#i had plans and i could not brute force any it to work :(

[ahsokahearteyes]

ok i cannot convince my 8 yr old laptop and shitty bamboo ink pen primarily used for college chem notes to work so goodbye low effort option to do digital art 😭

[missswritesalot]

Can i request some possessive, maybe even a little mean, Robb Stark nsfw? i need that man in a way that borders on obsession 😭

A/N hope you like it anon. Gets soft at the end. Will edit later for historical accuracy. Requests open.

"Your grace," you began nervously as your husband threw open your bedchamber door. Opening it was hard enough so thinking of the force it took to rattle the hinges made you wince. Perhaps you could finally see the King Robb that maidens swooned for and bards sang of.

"Like a dog? A beast? Numbskulled brute? Is that what you said?" He spat out. His anger, so hard to provoke but equally hard to quell. Now it was righteous too.

“I didn’t mean any of it,” you nervously said. “I only wished to entertain.”

Robb walked towards you and you took a step back. You were vulnerable, only wearing your shift.

“And what did you call yourself? Little more than a whore I paid two coppers for? A greedy little queen, at the mercy of the king?” Robb said. “I can’t even repeat what I heard. Yet you said it when I have done nothing but treat you gently with kindness.”

“It was only my ladies, and I didn’t wish to disappoint, husband.” You said. You placed your hand gently on his chest. “They dream of you, and I couldn’t appear jealous. I needed to show you didn’t lack passion in bed.”

“Wasn’t just the ladies. My men heard you recount your pleasure and now they’re the ones salivating.” He shouted.

“Cease this! It’s childish and I will speak as I wish.” You said, feigning annoyance.

Robb looked madder with each word out of your mouth. He gripped your wrists to the point of pain and spun you around. With a hand on your back, he pushed you face down onto the furs.

"You talk like a whore you get taken like one."

He pushed your chemise up and you felt his fingers find the most sensitive parts of you. He shoved two in roughly, making you scream. Thank the old gods, your plan worked better than expected.

“And what of my men guarding you? Did they have to hear your of escapades? Know how you enjoy in my chamber?” Robb demanded.

The twist of his fingers in your unprepared cunt made tears spring to your eyes.

“Who do you belong to?” He asked. You refused to reply. You shook your head.

“You’re mine, you hear me?” Robb yelled. He slapped your arse to make his point. No need to trigger him even more, you decided. “Who owns ye?” He asked again.

“You do,” you mumbled.

“And I am your King, and your husband. And you had better remember that.”

“Yes, husband.” You whispered. You heard the sounds of him undressing. You didn’t dare move.

Robb held your hips on either side of you and pushed you into the bed.

“Who’ll take you now?” He demanded.

“You, my lord and husband.” You replied submissive. His breathing behind you told you he was still furious.

His hands tightened around your hips and you felt the impossible thickness of his member at your entrance. He'd taken you before, he was your goddamn husband, but never in anger and never like this.

He began to push in, deaf to your cries.

"Robb," you pleaded, your will breaking. He was deep in you but not to the hilt yet. This new position was physically uncomfortable adding to your humiliation. "Please, please." You begged. You didn't know what you were asking for, for him to let you go or for a moment to adjust. But you were so hot you could barely see. You had never felt desire like this. You anticipated your release like Robb returning home.

"No," he said quietly. "You will accept this, wife." He sheathed himself to the hilt within your body. You were glad he'd let go of your arms, so you could twist your fingers into the furs on your bed.

He was deeper than before in this new position, you felt like you were being split open. You reminded yourself you were trying for this reaction. Some part of your heart hurt most of all, knowing that your husband didn't care about the pain he inflicted upon your body. He was mean.

He pulled out again and pushed back in slowly. The deep pleasure knocked the breath out of your lungs. It added to everything you felt from the stretch of his girth.

Your cries grew louder due to pleasure, and you were screaming in abandon at how good he made you feel.

“More, husband, Robb, please.” You begged incoherently. The snap of his hips against yours set a harsh pace.

He tried to stop, to tease you, but he couldn’t. He was too excited looking at your body beneath him.

It didn’t take long before you were clenched around his cock in your pleasure, and he spent in response to you.

Robb collapsed atop you. He rolled over to the side, breathing heavily. You took a moment to calm yourself down and turned to face him. You took his hand in yours carefully, you wanted to know if his anger had been quelled yet. You were pleased when he brought your hand to his lips to kiss it.

“I love you,” he said. “And I have no desire to share you. Not this. Not our time together when we get so little.” Robb confessed. Your heart broke for him. Perhaps you’d gone too far in seeking his passion.

His face grew tense as you didn’t reply. “Have I hurt you, love?” He asked, caressing your cheek. You leaned into his touch with a sigh.

“No, dear husband. I love you too,” you said softly, content.

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Pay the Piper v. 1

mdni

Summary: If the Red Haired Pirates would kindly fuck off, it would make your job a lot easier.

Pay the Piper Master Post

Chapter warnings: language, implied threat of murder at sea

“They’re stealing our wind.”

The mass of sails grew in your spyglass. What the crew had whispered might be a Jolly Roger clearly wore Redhaired Shanks’ stripes over the left eye, and the Red Force’s dragon figurehead bared its teeth in your direction.

For fuck’s sake. It couldn’t just be any pirates. You had to run across a whole-ass Yonko.

Lowering the glass, you blinked, taking the moment as your vision adjusted to consider your options. Without the telescopic lenses, the puff of white gradually eating the horizon could almost be mistaken for a cloud. It looked so harmless and far away.

“Even if your ship was faster, captain, they’ve taken the advantage.” You held the spyglass out to the beef-brained Marine you’d been bullied into accompanying.

Grinding his teeth, he ignored you, lifting his binoculars to see the same vision of approaching doom.

Apparently he liked you even less when you were right. “We can’t outrun them like this.”

“What’re you gonna do?” he growled. “Sing ‘em to sleep?”

A few of his favorites tittered, anxiously holding onto fading hopes that their commanding officer knew what he was doing. Marines usually buried their heads in the sand, up to the waist if need be. To be fair, it was what most were trained to do, and it kept (some of) them sane as they climbed the ranks from Entirely Helpless to Relatively Hopeless.

Without the constraint of rank and oath, you were much more realistic. The Red Force was gaining, and the pirates would close the distance even faster now. Your hand drifted to the railing, thumbnail digging into the paint. Even with the wind, you couldn’t win a race with that monster of a ship. The Marine’s tub was old. Even the mild breeze that kept the sails from falling entirely slack brought shrieks from the aging masts, and despite the good weather, the hull groaned like an old man.

You dug deep, working a splinter out of the rail to ruin the smooth white finish.

Fuck old men and the ships that sounded like them.

“This isn’t my first time sailing around pirates I’m ill-equipped to fight. We’ll try a few tricks and play it by ear.”

“Tricks, huh?” The captain’s voice dripped derision – for your lack of strength, for your very presence, for all the rules you could slide under without entirely breaking.

But even if you weren’t in the pecking order, you weren’t above yanking on the invisible leash of command.

“If Vice-Admiral Garp thought brute strength and speed would do it, would he have bothered with me?”

The ship shuddered as the Marines unfurled another sail, hoping to catch even half a knot’s more speed.

The captain grunted and dropped his binoculars to his chest. “Do what you want.”

He didn’t even glance your way as he left, and you smiled at the “Justice” signature scrawled down his back, spyglass tapping against your thigh.

“Oh, I plan to.”

You kept time with the captain’s receding footsteps, wandering the quarter deck with an eye on the billowing cloth overhead, tracking the sun’s path behind it. It would be dark in another three hours. Give or take. Enough time to launch Plan B, and Plan B almost always worked. The pirates would have just enough light to recover the wager, and once the pirates had what they wanted, everyone could use the moonless night as an excuse to lose sight of each other.

Plan B had never been tested against a Yonko, though.

It relied on giving the pursuers what they wanted with the least amount of fuss. No risk. All reward. The only gamble was that the prey had even more loot on board, but few crews were all that interested beyond a good haul. Seas knew if a Yonko wanted the same thing as any other pirate.

Still. Worth a shot.

You wrote a letter, a reverse ransom of sorts, and set it on top of the glittering Berries in the small chest brought for just this situation. Self-funded, of course, because if the Marines couldn’t spring for a proper escort, they couldn’t dream of providing expensive countermeasures.

You kept the message simple.

Apologies for our trespass in your territory. We are not seeking a battle and sail on a humanitarian mission. Please accept this modest token as toll and tribute.

The Marine captain would not see the letter. As amusing as watching him turn a dozen shades of puce would be, you had a job and a will to live besides. Stroking one man’s ego while sparing the other’s might be the difference between ending the voyage in a port or a shark’s belly.

The chest went in a barrel packed with straw, and you attached a tall rod with a yellow flag. Not white. Because the Marines would have a conniption. And the Yonko may get the wrong idea. Yellow caught the eye and reflected what bounty lay inside, so it would work well enough.

With a deck full of men staring at you, you rolled the barrel to the side and heaved it over. It landed with a terrific splash, and even at your tub’s leisurely speed, the peace offering soon floated far behind. You watched to ensure it flipped the right way up, flag streaming over the water with the demanding poise of a News Coo.

Half an hour. You watched the barrel sway and bob, picked out new details of the Red Force as it closed in, and kept time with your foot where you sat on the rail. The hiss of spray, the song of old wood flexing under its own weight, and the work of a dozen trained men boiled into something you could pick a tune through. Minutes dripped orange into the sinking sun, and you hovered in the rhythm of it all, caught in the song’s sway.

At last, your pursuers reached the barrel.

You kept your spyglass to your eye as grappling lines flew from the deck, hooking the prize and hefting it up, up, up to the deck. They’d drawn close enough that you could make out vague figures, but no faces, and you had a shit angle, besides. Once the barrel was aboard, you lost sight of it. The next move was theirs, but you’d prefer knowing what it was sooner rather than later. Any little move could tip you off. A reaction. Laughter. Signs of discord. Anything.

The Red Force didn’t lower any sails or shift course, but you’d doubted they would until dark. Nothing else seemed to change, and you swore under your breath.

More waiting then.

Dawn would reveal how screwed you were.

Just as you prepared to give up your watch and hunt down dinner, a glint near the pirate ship’s prow snared your attention.

You weren’t the only one watching.

For a beat, it wasn’t a game of survival between ships. It was you and a stranger linked by line of sight. You felt marked. Noted. Like if you spoke, the other would hear you. You’d begun a correspondence, and the reply glimmered back, intangible and compelling as a ghost.

You pulled away from the connection, lowering the glass, going below decks, and trying to shake the feeling of the pirate’s eye.

“Douse the lights at twilight,” you told the captain. “With luck we’ll lose them in the dark.”

“Already planning to.”

“Sure.”

_____________________

Morning came.

You rose before dawn, leaning on the rail with a cup of coffee to greet your fate. Even before the sun’s disk broke the horizon, you saw the Red Force in the pre-dawn gloom. You didn’t raise an alarm. No need. The warship hadn’t gone dark, and the men on watch must’ve seen the inevitable truth swimming along in their wake all night.

Poor things.

The coffee wasn’t terrible. Since you wouldn’t have time for a proper breakfast, you drank it down slowly, savoring the fresh air and spinning out next steps.

The captain likely wouldn’t listen to you after this failure, and that really was a concern. But the Red-Haired Pirates had such a mixed reputation – if the captain hadn’t insisted on flying the Marine colors, your hunters might’ve eased off. This ship really wasn’t a great prize in any traditional sense, and no rare wonders sat in crates below deck. But you made such a sad little target with your shitty boat and your scant crew that you must’ve sparked some curiosity.

The last of your morning brew hid a mouthful of grounds, and you nearly gagged forcing it down. At least there was something solid in your stomach now.

Rosy light flushed the world red and gold. The fanged face of the pirates’ ship was close enough you didn’t need the spyglass to make it out anymore. It looked hungry. You’d have to feed it some answers.

How much could you reveal without giving the game away? Finding the sweet spot between enough of the truth to bore someone and so much of the truth they took interest always frustrated you, and the stakes had never been this high.

“They didn’t go for your trick.”

The captain, binoculars up, appeared beside you. Even in a life-or-death situation, apparently you were only worth half his attention.

“They didn’t.”

Since he clearly didn’t care much about manners, you left the conversation at that and started crafting your back-up peace offering. No pre-packaged loot this time. You made the rounds with an empty box, asking for anything of value the Marines cherished less than their lives. Most sniffed in disdain (and poverty). A few shakily removed wedding bands, fetched little heirlooms from their lockers, and dropped in their scant wages.

You took the little hoard back to the workspace you’d stolen for yourself below deck and penned another letter.

Please fuck off.

The coffee burned in your gut, threatening to return as you considered your own sacrifice for the tithe. It was a gamble. One you didn’t want to make either way, but it might work. It wasn’t the sort of token someone would surrender lightly. And it might underline your point that there was nothing of value left.

If, on the other hand, this was purely about the fact that Marines dared sail through a Yonko’s territory… well, you’d all be dead, and it wouldn’t matter how much your heart bled to give up the thing, would it?

You pulled the pendant from around your neck and immediately missed its weight. Your shoulders were too light to hold down breath, and you chewed the inside of your cheek to banish the burning in your nose.

When had you last taken it off? To clean it, maybe, a few months ago? You hadn’t suffocated without it then. You'd live now.

But –

Two things mattered more to you than anything else in the whole world, and here you were, giving one up without a fight.

You allowed yourself a minute to look at the smooth stone and delicate silver, rubbing your thumb over the little masterpiece like you could press it into your skin. Keep it. Memorize it or absorb it or anything except –

You put it in the box.

A little cadet helped you find another barrel, and together you put together another flag to ensure your suffering wasn’t all for nothing.

Over the side and into the sea, the barrel rode the wake of your sad little tub until it was close enough for the pirate crew to snatch with hook and line. This time, you only had to wait ten minutes.

You were ready with the spyglass.

A figure approached the prow, and as he came out of the sails’ shade, you spotted the telltale hair. Red Haired Shanks lifted his own spyglass, looking straight back at you with your pendant glittering in his hand.

You snapped the glass from your eye and – confident he could see you – made a grand and exaggerated shooing motion. Ushering him away like a persistent gull.

Shoo.

Fuck off.

Please.

If his sense of humor was anything like you’d heard, maybe he’d spare you for the laugh.

But when you peered through the glass to see if he had an answer, you could’ve sworn he was laughing.

Laughing and shaking his head.

[star-girl69]

I Can See You

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!AphroditeCabin!Reader

—-

sypnosis: you and clarisse work together to get revenge on a mutual enemy, but when that plan involves pretending to date clarisse, something better than revenge happens. requested by anonymous!

a/n: I AM SO EXCITED FOR THIS ONE HOLY FRICK. the beginning is so bad and just like worldbuilding but i PROMISE!!!!! keep reading!!!!!! pls ignore the fact im reusing jackie and tyla i’m attached to them anyways i hope you all enjoy!!

I Can See You - Taylor Swift

(also Dress by tay was the original title soooo…..)

warnings: not proofread, the beginning is so bad i swear it gets better, a little suggestive haha…., kissing ofc, fake dating!!!!!!!!!, JEALOUS CLARISSE JEALOUS CLARISSE I REPEAT JEALOUS CLARISSE!!!!!!!, swearing, violence, mentions of murder!, protective clarisse the loml, ALCOHOL!!!!! reader gets drunk, allusions to sex, MENTIONS OF SEXUAL ASSAULT please be VERY careful, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

“What the hell are you all doing?”

You had waited until nighttime for a reason, for the light of the full moon and hopefully some peace. You and your siblings looked up at the voice.

Xavier Bones was possibly the rudest and most self-centered person you had ever had the displeasure of meeting. His father was Ares, which made sense, seeing as he had a wicked temper and was strong as shit. Most of the kids from the Ares cabin could probably snap you like a stick if they wanted, but what scares you about Xavier is that he might actually do it.

He’s rude to everyone he sees, but he particularly has it out for the Aphrodite cabin. Just because Aphrodite kids didn’t have skill in battle like Ares kids, or aren’t wicked smart like Athena kids doesn’t mean they’re worthless. Xavier just didn’t understand anything except brute force.

He didn’t understand any other kind of power.

The whole reason you’re out here tonight is to finally finish the potion you’ve been making. Amokinesis was strictly a spoken sort of magic, and it was hard to do it to more than one person. But, you and your siblings had decided that maybe you could try and follow in the steps of sorceresses like Medea and Circe, using spelled objects and potions to execute your power. You had been collaborating with a Hecate kid for weeks now, learning everything you could about potion making until you were finally ready to try and make a simple truth potion- love and desire also opened the door to truth.

Aster, the daughter of Hecate who had been helping you, said it was a relatively easy first timer potion and hopefully with your Amokinesis it would come together.

You look up at Xavier, watching as he smiles in disbelief.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re trying to make some sort of love potion, huh?” He sits down at the picnic table, curiously leaning in to look at it.

“Get back,” Jackie, your sibling, hisses waving her hand at him so he’ll back up.

“Okay, okay,” he smiles, some glint in his eyes. He holds his hands up in mock surrender. “I’m just trying to figure out why you’re wasting all this time, seeing as it probably won’t work.”

“Shut up, Xavier,” you sighed. You needed this bad. You needed to prove to everyone that love wasn’t a stupid power. You were so sick of Xavier, of everyone and their treatment of the Aphrodite cabin. Jackie wanted so desperately to learn how to use a spear, but no one would pay enough attention to her.

You need this.

“I thought you guys were supposed to be nice?”

You opt to ignore him.

“Hm, okay, definitely not nice. Good thing I’m not either.”

He spits his gum out and drops it straight into the cauldron.

“Fucking bitch!” Jackie screams, Tyla looks like she’s about to cry, and the wooden spoon you’re holding in your hands is about to crack under the pressure.

The potion changes an odd color, a murky brown.

“Oops,” he says.

He laughs and walks away, and you faintly wonder what happened to him to make him so cruel.

—-

The next morning you’re all stewing silently at breakfast. Jackie is glaring daggers at the Ares table, Tyla is ranting about how you need to get all the ingredients again, and you’re trying to listen and join Jackie at staring maliciously.

“I’m gonna murder him, I think.”

“I’ll help,” you murmur, favoring staring at your hands instead of being caught staring at him.

“Do you think Clarisse will let me borrow her spear? How much would that sting, getting killed by one of your Dad’s weapons, huh?”

“She probably would,” Tyla mumbles. “She hates him too, ever since he beat her sparring.”

You resist the urge to scoff. You were there that day, and Xavier had played dirty.

They were sparring, she was winning, when he suddenly pointed behind her and shouted that Ares was there. Of course, everyone had turned to look, and he had disarmed her and kicked her down while she was distracted.

Of course, the next day he was walking around sporting a black eye, but Clarisse had never lived that day down. Xavier had never lived that down, either, exactly why they’re sitting on opposite ends of the table now.

Jackie stares off into the distance. She lets out a small laugh.

“I have a horrible idea.”

“What if we make Xavier fall in love with one of us, right?”

You and Tyla both gag.

“Wait, wait! But then we just lead him on, and maybe Clarisse will do us a favor and pretend to date-”

Tyla snorts. “She would never do that.”

You remember seeing the anger on her face that day. The rage, really, the betrayal. But you remember seeing the sadness too. A part of her had really thought Ares was gonna be there. You remember feeling so, so bad for her.

No one should deserve to feel like that, but it comes with the territory of being a demigod.

“It wouldn’t hurt to ask, right?”

Tyla and Jackie stare at you like you’ve just cursed out Hades.

“I’ll do it. Tyla, no offense, but I think you’d crack under the pressure. And Jacks, you would just start punching him.”

“Yeah,” Tyla murmurs.

“I would,” Jackie agrees.

“I mean, it might actually work.”

—-

You corner her the next day.

She’s outside her cabin, practicing some spear forms when you walk over to her. This is all moving so fast, but you can’t help the fact that revenge is so fun. Why wait when you can get it now?

Revenge is supposed to be served best cold, but you’ve always been a little too handsy, a little too greedy for your own good. You want revenge and you want it now.

“Clarisse, hi.” You smile, she spares you a glance and doesn’t say anything. “I’m Y/N, you don’t know me but I was wondering if I could ask you for a favor.”

The spear stops in mid air. She moves from a offensive position to a standing position, and she looks you up and down so painfully slow that you think your organs are gonna burst.

“What?”

“So, you know Xavier?” you sit down on the picnic bench behind you. “I’m sure you know him, and I’m sure you know that he’s an asshole. He ruined something me and my siblings were doing, and he’s been so rude to all Aphrodite kids for so long so, we just wanna get him back.

She squints at you. “How?”

“We’re gonna use our amokinesis to make him fall in love with me, then maybe, hopefully, we can fake date to make him lose his mind.”

She stares at you blankly for a second. Your heart drops, oh, Gods, you never should have done this.

You’re gonna be the laughingstock of camp.

“‘Cause, you know, you both hate each others guts. And if he’s in love with me, but then he sees you and me together- it was this whole thing about making him see the power of love, you know, ‘cause like-”

She grabs you by your cheeks, pinching your face together, your lips puffing out.

“You can stop rambling, now.” She smiles in a demeaning way, and you would feel insulted if the way she wasn’t gripping your face right now wasn’t addicting. “I actually think it’s a pretty great plan. Surprising, but, whatever.”

You ignore that.

“So, you’ll do it?”

“When are you gonna spell him?”

“As soon as possible, tonight, at the bonfire.”

“Okay,” she nods, thinking to herself. “Come meet me before you do it.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Clarisse La Rue touched your face. Clarisse touched your face, and you really fucking liked it.

—-

The three of you sit by the edge of the bonfire. You locked eyes with Clarisse a few minutes ago, letting her know you’re here.

Tyla fusses with your hair, even though you all spent an hour making everything about you perfect. It would be nice to look hot if you were gonna make him fall in love with you.

You watch as she makes her way towards the bathrooms.

Her golden skin shines in the light of the fire, she adjusts her shirt, and you swear you see her abs just under the orange fabric-

“Clarisse is pretty, isn’t she?” Tyla says. “I mean, I almost wish I was the one fake dating her.”

And she is. She is so painfully pretty.

“I’ll tell you all about it,” you wink.

When you step into the bathroom, Clarisse locks the door behind you. You turn around and she’s there. She looks you up and down. You can’t make out the look on her face.

“You’re really trying to impress him, huh?” she smirks. You ignore that.

The ceiling is low in here, so you walk to the corner and reach up at the loose board. You slide it over, reaching inside and grabbing the small bag.

Aphrodite kid secret- makeup is hidden everywhere around camp.

She stares at you. “Has that always been up there?”

You go to the mirror, taking out the mascara and applying another layer.

“Uh… yeah.”

She leans against the wall next to the mirror, watching you with such an intensity it’s like you’re the one beautiful thing in some bloody war she can’t take her eyes away from.

“We should probably set some ground rules,” you say. She hums. “This will probably only be for a month or so.”

“That’s fine.”

You stare pointedly at yourself in the mirror. You, Jacks and Tyla had dumped almost all of your plates into the offerings fire at lunch, hoping for good luck from Aphrodite. With the way your skin seems to glow, your makeup flawless, it seems she’s pleased by your offerings.

Maybe her and Ares are having a fight up on Olympus, and she’s itching to see him knocked down a peg, however vicariously through someone else.

“Well, you can do whatever you want to me.”

“I- what?” you blink, staring at Clarisse like she just turned into a cyclops.

“You can kiss me, hug me, whatever. I mean, we should really do this if we’re gonna do it. Sell it, or whatever.”

“Oh, okay. Yeah, I guess you can do whatever too.”

Clarisse can touch you wherever she wants.

You look up discreetly. Please, Mom, you think. Don’t let me fall in love with Clarisse La Rue.

It’s fine to admit to yourself that you’d like to jump on top of her, but she’s still an Ares kid. She’s a bully, if you’re being honest. But can you say that you’re not one too after this?

Love can burn down cities, love can start wars, love can end them. Love is always there from the beginning of your life to your beginning. The doctor who delivered you loves their career. The woman who makes flower arrangement for your funeral loves flowers, even if she hates making them for funerals.

Love is always there, and when it’s used as a weapon you know it is one of the deadliest things.

But you’re too deep in this now.

She walks around so she’s standing behind you, adjusting her hair in the mirror.

She puts her hand on your hip. You take a deep breath, you pretend. You pretend so hard it might become real.

She smiles brightly in the mirror. “See you out there, baby.”

—-

You pull your top down. That’s the easiest way to get a man to look at you. Pull your top down. You get a few looks as you move through the tree trunk benches, careful that you don’t accidentally trip, because that would completely fuck up the plan.

There’s a part of you that comes from your mother. The part that some may call vain, but how is it your fault to enjoy the attention that other people are giving you? It’s not your fault they’re looking. It’s not your fault you look like your mother’s daughter.

You walk a little longer, finally setting your eyes on Xavier, sitting across the fire from Clarisse and her group. You eyes meet hers. She pretends to itch her nose, but you can see the laugh she’s hiding. You take one more deep breath, say one more please to your mother.

“Xavier,” you say. “Can I sit?”

He already seems a little shocked that you’re talking to him on purpose, but he quickly recovers and pushes his friend down the trunk.

You sit, your thigh touching his, folding your hands over your legs.

“I just wanted to say, Xavier, that you were right. The other night… the potion would have failed anyways. Thank you so much for ruining it when you did. Who knows what could have happened? It could have exploded everywhere.”

You laugh, putting your hand on his arm. He looks up at you, mouth slightly parted.

You said his name twice and he’s already sucked in.

“Really, Xavier, thank you.” You smile softly, looking at his lips before back up to his eyes.

His hand lands on your knee.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

You watch Jackie walk by. He doesn’t hear her whisper. But you see it in his eyes.

You pretend to blush, brushing your hand down his arm before it lands back in your own lap. He leans in closer, until his lips are brushing your ear.

“Why don’t I give you some more things to be thankful for?”

Tyla walks by. He doesn’t hear her whisper either.

“Oh, I should really get back to Clarisse. Sorry, Xavier,”

His hand tightens on your knee and he pulls back.

“C-Clarisse? What would you be doing with her?”

You feign innocence. “Well, she’s my girlfriend. I do a lot of things with her,” you giggle. “I just wanted to thank you, but I should get going. Bye, Xavier!”

You blow him a kiss as you stand up, and you can practically see the hearts in his eyes right along with the blazing rage. You can feel him stare as you walk away, hips swaying.

Clarisse is still trying to hide her laugh when you start walking over to her. The tree trunk around her is all full of people, and a few more are even on the ground.

You stand in front of her, smiling softly.

“Are you not gonna let your girlfriend sit down?”

“Of course I am.”

She leans back and pats her knee. She draws you forward by wrapping her big hand around your hip. When you sit down, she rests her hand flat against your stomach, pressing you right to her. Her other hand rests on your thigh.

Please, Mom, don’t let me fall in love with Clarisse La Rue. Don’t let me like her touching me like this.

Everyone is staring.

It’s exhilarating.

You twist your face into something serious, trying not to break out into a fit of embarrassing giggles.

Her breath tickles your neck.

“I gotta admit, you little witch, that was impressive.”

You smile and place your hand over hers.

“I know.”

—-

The day after the bonfire, everybody at camp is talking about you and Clarisse.

How long have they been dating? Why did they decide to become public now? I swear I saw Y/N and Xavier getting close, though, what happened?

You’ve been trying not to break out laughing all morning. During breakfast you blew Clarisse a kiss and heard one of your siblings gasp dramatically and mumble about how sweet young love is.

Jackie and Tyla made paper hearts for you during arts n’ crafts, talking loudly about how you were such a lovesick little thing. You know Xavier heard about all of those things, because he stares at you every chance he gets and glares at Clarisse at the same time.

You keep exchanging subtle glances with her, small smiles, secrets in between your gazes. It’s nice to have something like this.

After dinner, the two of you go to the woods to pretend like you’re having a secret date. Clarisse brings her spear and you bring a blanket.

You’ve been laying there comfortably for a while, arms under your head like a pillow.

“I wanna know how you did it,” she says, turning her spear in her hands. You open one eye to look at her.

“I say his name a bunch of times. With, like, a lot of intention. Then Jackie and Tyla came by and whispered “you’re in love with the girl in front of you” and other stuff like that. It’s hard to explain. It’s just, like, this power.”

“I was imagining, like, one of those mortal movies, you know? A potion, or something.”

“Oh, we’re trying that too. Medea used her amokinesis in the form of potions and spelled objects, so me, Jackie, and Tyla have been talking to Aster, who’s a child of Hecate, and we tried to make a truth potion.” You laugh, thinking of that night. “That’s why we’re doing this, actually. Xavier found us and stuck his gum in it, so… completely ruined. We have to wait for the next full moon and get all the ingredients. It sucks, whatever, I guess.”

She listened intently the entire time you were talking. Aphrodite kids are always jumping from one thing to another. Clarisse is so focused and single-minded. It feels good to be the center of just one person’s attention. Not having people look at you, but just one person look at you.

“Every time I see him I think about stabbing him 20 times. Now I’ll think about sticking gum in his ear, too.” She turns to you and smiles.

None of that stupid smirking shit she always does, or those over-exaggerated demeaning smiles, she really smiles at you.

Her smile is really pretty.

You laugh along with her after a second.

“I would love to see that,” you murmur, propping yourself up on your forearms. “What really made you agree to do this? I mean, I know you guys surface level hate each other but, come on, I was just rambling and you were all ‘let’s do it’.”

“I hate him,” she shrugs. “Why do you care, anyways? You got what you wanted. Enjoy my beautiful self while it lasts.”

“Yeah, okay,” you chuckle.

You don’t leave until the stars come out.

—-

The second day after the bonfire, Clarisse invites you to sit with her at lunch. Usually, you’re supposed to stay at your cabin tables, but Chiron is busy all day and no one would snitch on Clarisse.

You walk over with your tray in hand, watching as she whispers something to her siblings. You smile at them before she pats the seat next to her.

“Hey,” the boy next to you greets. “I’m Matty.”

He points to the girl across from him. “That’s Marjorie,” he points to the other boy with dark skin across from Clarisse, “That’s Daniel,” and finally your eyes land on the blonde girl sitting across from you.

“I’m Sarah,” she smiles. She seems nice, at least. So does Matty. The rest just seem sort of standoffish. There’s a scuffle under the table, then Daniel glares at Clarisse.

“Hi, Y/N,” he says. “Nice to meet you.”

Matty is sickly sweet nice, handsome too, and you almost wonder if he’s really a child of Ares. But he’s got that same focus like Clarisse.

He asks you questions and listens to your answers.

He had the bad stroke of fate in accidentally getting you going about your experiments in potions and amokinesis, and you find yourself shuffling closer to him.

“Sorry,” you laugh. “I’ll stop torturing you now.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I love a passionate person.”

You weren’t sure if he meant that to be flirting.

Usually you’re good at picking up these things, all Aphrodite kids have a knack for it, but you think he’s just really nice.

You stare at him, tilting your head to the side when Clarisse suddenly grabs your waist and pulls you closer to her. Her breath tickles your neck, just like the bonfire.

“You’re supposed to be my girlfriend, not his,” she whispers, her chin resting against your shoulder.

You roll your eyes. “Am I not allowed to have a conversation?”

“Not when he’s looking.” You spare a quick glance. Xavier is looking at you, a mix between glaring and starting longingly.

“He looks like a cross-eyed dog,” you giggle.

And to your surprise, Clarisse presses her face into your shoulder to muffle her laugh.

—-

All the time you spend with Clarisse is like some stupid board game you play with Tyla and Jackie when there’s nothing else to do. Jenga. That one where you crack the ice and try not to make the polar ball fall.

The games where you chip it away slowly, one by one, wondering if this time will be the time that it falls, if you’ll be the one to lose the game.

You push a little more each time with Clarisse. Each conversation, you learn a little more, you chip away a few of her walls.

It’s addicting to open her up slowly, to get to know her like this. And when it’s just you and her alone, when Xavier isn’t around to torture, you swear it doesn’t feel fake.

—-

The eighth day after the bonfire, you skip arts n’ crafts to follow Clarisse to the archery range.

While the Apollo kids have all that effortless, natural skill with archery, Ares kids are still deadly. You faintly remember seeing Clarisse shoot once. Even though it’s not her weapon of choice, her aim was deadly and she didn’t miss one shot.

You’re okay with a bow.

Clarisse sees the perfect opportunity to flaunt in front of Xavier.

As soon as you crest the hill, your eyes find his, and he beelines towards you.

“Y/N, sweetheart, what can I do for you?”

It’s easy to switch on that stereotypical persona. You twist your fingers into your shirt.

“Yeah, can you help me?” you look up at him, trying to be as disgustingly sweet as you can,

“What’d you need?” he takes a step closer, about to cage you in between him and the cart full of bows and arrows.

“Can you help me pick out a bow? I don’t know what one would be right for me, I don’t know anything about archery. Please?”

He reaches past you, coming close so your back hits the wooden cart. You can’t help the way your eyes widen. He’s bold, you’ll give him that. Everyone reacts differently under the spell, but their true personalities still shine through.

He picks one up, running his hand up and down the curved wood. He plucks at the string, nodding to himself.

“This one’s fit for a lady.”

You take it, fingertips brushing his. “Oh, thank you so much, Xavier.” You give him a small side hug as you run past him, eager to get away from him.

You just need to find Clarisse.

“Hey, don’t you need some help shooting?” you glance over your shoulder, watching him advance.

Where the hell is Clarisse?

You’re about to say you’re fine when you suddenly slide into someone’s arms. You would have slammed into her, if not for the way Clarisse softly reached out to touch your arm, and Gods, you recognize the feel of her skin.

You knew she was there and you gratefully walked forward, your chests touching, her arm around your shoulders.

“I’ll take it from here, Xavier.”

You look up at her. She’s smiling in that same demeaning way.

You’ve grown to like it.

He doesn’t say anything else. You hear him stomp off.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. When you open your eyes after a moment, you realize how close you are.

You’re so close it’s just one move and that’s it. One move and you both know that’ll change it all.

You think she just worked out. You can feel the muscles of her arm against you, you can see the sweat on her hairline, you can see her breathing heavily.

You could just press your ear to her chest and feel everything.

The way her brown eyes reflect the sunshine is mesmerizing. You’ve been looking at her for so long, but it’s like you’re looking into the surface of a lake you swear you recognize, slightly green murky waters, but there was a whole world under the surface if you cared to look.

But you didn’t care to look for the Clarisse under the surface. You don’t care. You don’t want to.

She clears her throat and let’s go of you.

You back up.

“Put that thing down, he probably fucking poisoned it.”

You turn the bow in your hands, but when you look up, she’s already walking towards the far end of the field.

“Wait, wait, what am I gonna use then?”

“Mine, obviously.” You drop the bow.

—-

After taking a few deep breaths, and Clarisse going over the basics again, you filled your mind with images of a bow and arrow and not of her eyes. Not of her lips.

Clarisse La Rue hates Aphrodite kids too, just not as much as Xavier, and not enough to resist revenge.

You focus on that. That’s why you’re here. Revenge.

Revenge for every fucked up thing he’s said, revenge for every time he’s come too hard at you during capture the flag, revenge for all of your siblings and everyone he’s ever tortured.

“Ok, there, that’s a good stance.” She’s raking her eyes up and down your body. But you’re here for revenge. She glanced over her shoulder. “Except for…”

She presses her body to yours from behind, molding against you like she was made to protect you like this, her hand covering yours, her stance just a little wider. She glides her hand across your arm.

“Up, up, just a little.” She’s whispering right into your ear. You let her hands guide you. Your mouth feels dry. “Then let go.”

And how badly you want to let go. You want to let go of these feelings rolling around in your stomach like stones, you want to let go and let them become butterflies and fall into Clarisse.

You prayed to your mother not to fall in love with her, but maybe you should trust your mom. Maybe you should let go.

But you don’t.

You let go of the arrow instead, you keep your tumbling feelings inside, and to your shock you only hit a few inches from the bullseye.

The bow swings in your hand.

“Holy shit. Did I- did I just do that?”

Clarisse laughs. “You did, baby.”

You turn around and throw your arms around her neck, smiling wide and laughing hysterically. The bow was the one weapon you thought you could never master, and here you are after one lesson with Clarisse.

She wraps her arms around your waist, and even though you’ve hugged like this a million times, you both know it’s different this time. And you both ignore it.

But for one second, you’re pretending so hard it’s almost real. It’s almost a real date.

—-

On the ninth day, it all goes to shit.

Sword practice is held just after lunch, when the sun is still high in the sky. The Ares and Aphrodite cabins share the field first, and you, Jackie and Tyla take your time stretching to enjoy the show.

Tyla has to turn around to hide her laugh as you bend over slowly, making sure Xavier is watching, then when you face comes up flushed you smile at him. He smiles back.

You wave to Clarisse and he glares at her.

Jackie says it will take him 5 minutes to ask her to spar. Tyla says 5 too. You say it’ll take him maybe 3 minutes.

He spars with one person, a two minute match, then marched right up to Clarisse.

“How about we go, huh? Want another chance to try and beat me?”

Clarisse was smiling before he walked over, talking to her friends. Her smile fades and is replaced by the dark mask of pure focus.

“I’d love to beat you, Xavier.”

She walks past you to grab a sword from the rack.

Her eyes meet yours. You reach out and put your hand on her face, softly pressing her lips against yours. It’s a peck. It’s barely there. At least now you can check off a box and say you’ve kissed Clarisse La Rue.

She seems so shocked that you’ve actually kissed her you swear she loses her footing for a second. You swear her cheeks are a little flushed. By she stands up taller and ignores it, just like you’ve both been doing for so long.

“Good luck, baby!” you call as she walks off to the circle marked off for sparring.

Xavier looks like he’s about to light the grass on fire.

“She’s gonna beat his ass,” Jackie whispers.

“If he loses, do you think I should comfort him after?”

“Oh, Gods, yes,” Tyla smiles. “That’s so mean. We’re so mean.” It feels too good to stop.

Kissing Clarisse almost felt too good to stop. Even that second, one more longer and you would have been sucked in. You decide not to kiss her for however long this goes on.

Once you start kissing her, you’re scared you’ll never stop.

Revenge feels to good, and you need this.

As soon as they face each other Xavier springs out with a million offensive attacks, slightly sloppy- you can see his anger. Everyone knows you can’t let your emotion get in the way of battle.

Clarisse is calm and counters all his attacks. She even smiles, which makes your stomach flip in a way that isn’t fake.

Her sword flicks along his cheek. It’s a paper cut, barely.

“Oh no,” Clarisse fake frets. “You need me to walk you to the nurse?”

He grunts and launches an attack that’s just plain stupid. It’s messy. He swings too wide. She knocks his sword out of his hand.

He goes to dive for it but her sword is already at his neck.

He breathes heavily, staring at her, and it’s suddenly dead quiet. No more talking, no more swords clanging.

Your eyes are flicking in between them like a ball bouncing up and down. But they linger on Clarisse. Of course they linger on Clarisse.

It’s so quiet you swear you can hear her heartbeat.

“Daddy’s behind you,” he whispers.

She whips around, taking her sword with her, but no one is there. Of course no one is there.

Xavier runs away laughing, and Clarisse turns around. Her cheeks are flushed, she’s gripping the hand of the sword so tight you’re surprised it hasn’t broken off.

Clarisse is not your girlfriend. Clarisse is not even your friend.

But she’s someone, she’s someone to you, and you can’t stand to see her like this.

You walk forward and put your hand on her wrist, taking the sword from her. You’re not even in control of your arms and legs.

She stares pointedly at the distance.

“Let’s go,” you whisper, giving her no choice and pulling her along. You throw the sword at the rack.

—-

You end up in Clarisse’s cabin, door clicking shut behind you as you press your back to it. She stays silent for a moment, until she screams and throws someone’s pillow at the wall. You don’t say anything.

You don’t say anything but you follow her to her bed.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, watching as she sits down, fists clenched so tight you hope she isn’t bleeding. “I’m so sorry, Clarisse.”

“You weren’t the one who fell for it. You weren’t the one who fell for that stupid, stupid, childish trick. I did.”

“You wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for us and our plan. If it wasn’t for me.”

You sit down on the bed next to hers.

“Why are you even here? We’re not actually dating, dummy. You can go.”

“I know,” you murmur. You know. You know you aren’t dating. You know you shouldn’t be here. “But you’re still something, Clarisse.”

She slips off her armor.

“I’m not something to you.”

She wants someone else to hurt like she does. She wants someone else to take the fall, to be embarrassed and the center of everyone’s attention so she doesn’t have to.

“I’ll never be something to you, Y/N, just- just go away. This is over, I’m not doing it anymore.”

“Yeah, okay,” you mutter. There’s something wet in your eyes and your throat tightens up. “That’s fine.”

You leave silently and you cry in the woods.

—-

When you finally make your way back to your cabin at nightfall, everyone is fussing around you. Your hair’s messy, mascara streams down your face, your shirt is wet with tears.

“Where have you been?” one of your brothers asks, and the rest of your siblings echo the sentiment.

Tyla doesn’t say anything when she sees you. She just wraps her arms around you. Jackie stands just behind her, eyes locking with yours. She knows. She doesn’t move. She can see it on your face, she can see it in your eyes.

Aphrodite children are predisposed to fall in love fast and hard. You’ve all gathered around your siblings time and time again when their hearts inevitably got broken.

No one wants to date an Aphrodite kid. Not really.

They all think you’re vain and self-centered. They all think you’re weak and useless.

When it comes down to it, that’s what you are.

How can you claim to wield the power of love when it brings you to your knees too?

You thought Clarisse was hot. You thought you could leave it at that. You thought you could pretend, you thought you could ignore it.

But the more you think about it, the more tears fall down your face, the more you realize you were ignoring the wrong thing. You spent so much time trying not to want Clarisse you forgot that she doesn’t even want you. It stings, like a knife in the chest, it hurts to know you’re making it all up.

But it was always pretend. It was always fake. That’s what fake dating is. The Aphrodite side of you just forgot that you couldn’t find comfort in her arms, you couldn’t memorize the feel of her skin, you couldn’t hear the sound of her heartbeat and pretended it beat for you.

You look up at the sky and you want to curse your mother. You want to know why she has abandoned you. But in your heart, you know she hasn’t abandoned you. The Goddess of Love is right next to you, and this is what it feels like.

Knives in your heart. Memories of heartbeats, memories of skin, memories of soft voices and secrets and the feeling that something was yours, something was quiet and shared.

“Y/N,” Jackie breathes.

The words hurt. You say them anyways.

“I fucked up,” you sob. “I fucked up, Jackie. She doesn’t- she won’t, she never will-”

“Y/N,” Tyla coos.

“I fell in love. I fell in love, and it’s over.”

—-

You give up on wearing makeup. The sadness still seeps through your face, and you end up crying most of it off anyways. A few of your hoodies are just permanently stained with mascara with how much you cried. The tears stream down your face and carry the little black specks with it.

You try to visualize everything you feel leaving with the black specks. The love, the anger, the sadness, the regret. But it doesn’t leave, and you’re too tired of trying to hide from it.

Everyone thinks you miserably broke up, and it’s mortifying to know that Clarisse knows you’re like this, she knows you’re absolutely ruined over this- and it was never even real.

You keep telling yourself that. It was fake. It was never real.

But it feels real, the memories feel real. You know they happened, you know Clarisse touched you so often it’s like you’re burned with it. You say she had to have felt it to, because the more you remember the more you remember the electricity, the charge in the air.

But you might just be making that up.

Lunch is the worst time. She’s always so happy at lunch, her and her table laughing loudly. She mentioned to you once, one of those fake star-studded dates in the woods, that she’s always to tired by dinner time because she trains so hard for most of the day.

You stare at her when no one’s looking, and everyone can see you better in the bright light of day- and you can’t look away.

Tyla mumbles that they’re gonna get up to make their offerings, she doesn’t ask if you’re gonna come. You’re probably not even going to eat more than a few bites again.

You’re alone at the stone table.

Xavier sees that as an opportunity.

Love spells are best to break on a full moon. You thought it would go on longer than this, and he’s only become more emboldened by what everyone sees as a breakup.

He sits down next to you, smiling sadly. You prop your head up in your hand.

“Y/N, you sad angel.” His hand grazes your shoulder, you can’t be bothered to tell him to stop. He places a flower in front of you. “To cheer you up.”

“Thanks, Xavier,” you mutter. He stares at you for a moment longer. Jackie comes back, slamming her tray down onto the table.

“Go away, Xavier,” she says, the same thing she says every day. Jackie has this look in her eyes that lets you know she’s ready to jump on you if she has to.

You think he would stop trying, but he can’t. He can’t because of this stupid love spell that ruined everything. And you can’t even take it off of him, not until the full moon.

You wouldn’t feel like this if it wasn’t for that love spell.

—-

There is one a day a year that Chiron turns a blind eye to parties. The summer solstice all of the cabin leaders come together to throw a huge party, mostly centered around the bonfire, food and drinks and even music. It’s the one night a year where you’re allowed to be teenagers, and it’s not taken lightly.

It even makes you feel a little excited.

“So what if all that shit happened?” Tyla asked. “We’re gonna make sure you look as hell at this party, and then you’re gonna go find someone and make out with them in a dark corner. Don’t even look who it is. Just grab the first random person and kiss them.”

“Okay, well, I’m not doing that, but I will do something of the sort. There is definitively some making out on my list tonight.”

“Oh, as long as it’s not with Xavier,” Tyla frets.

Jackie kicks her. “If Y/N makes out with Xavier, I will personally pay Chiron a million dollars to feed both of them to some horrible monster.”

“Supportive,” you muse.

Jackie gasps. “I forgot about this dress.”

“For which one of us?” Tyla asks.

Jackie turns around, holding up the back dress. It’s sparkly, a slit up the side, going just to your knees. It’s ruffled at the chest, thin spaghetti straps for the top. You can’t wear it. It’s too much, too revealing.

You look around the room.

Most of your siblings are wearing worse.

And you need to get your mind off her.

“I’m wearing that.”

Tyla squeals and Jackie lays it out on your bed.

You’ll forget about her tonight, you promise yourself.

—-

The bonfire burns high and bright, and even 20 feet away from it the feeling is burning. It’s so hot you’re glad you wore this barely there grass, it frees up your skin to touch the cool summer air.

You, Tyla and Jackie had gratefully taken a few too many sips of the alcohol someone had managed to sneak in and was now passing around.

Everything is so funny in the firelight.

Tyla’s tall heels keep sinking into the grass, and you keep giggling when your own do the same. You’re all holding onto each other, barely able to stand.

There was more nail polish fumes in the cabin than usual, and you’ll swear on your life that it gets to your head.

“Noooooo,” Tyla moans, sinking yet again into the grass. She gasps, pointing at the logs currently abandoned. “I’ll just walk on those!”

Your heels sink into the dirt.

“Me too,” you say, smiling as you grab Tyla’s hand and begin your ascent. Jackie ran off with an Apollo boy a minute ago, the first of your group to leave.

You grab onto each other, laughing boisterously as you keep almost falling.

“I-I can bare-barely stand!” you shout, giggling as you throw your arms to the sides.

“Me either!” Tyla shouts back. She jumps off, walking between the end of that one to the beginning of the next log.

“Hey, do you think I can jump and make it?”

Tyla judges the maybe 4 foot jump.

“I don’t know.”

“Well, I’m gonna try,” you giggle. “I’m gonna jump!”

“Whoooo!” Tyla shouts, laughing too. This entire night is just about you and your friends and laughter. She starts clapping. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,”

You jump, eyes screwed shut, slamming into something mid air and being brought to the ground.

“Wh-” you mumble, and Tyla let’s out a gasp.

“Are you trying to kill yourself?” Clarisse scolds, her hands quickly falling from your waist.

And, of course, the first instinct of your intoxicated brain is to start screaming.

Clarisse grabs your arm and drags you off, past the light of the fire and into a space between the cabins. She slaps her hand over your mouth and you shut up.

“Are you going to stop being such a baby now?”

She lets go of your face and you immediately stumble forward so she has to catch you, pressing your finger into her chest.

“You, demon, are not my mother! So, I don’t know what you’re doing.”

She laughs, holding you up.

“Oh, you’re drunk.”

“Tipsy,” you correct. “As I was saying, don’t you remember, Clarisse, we will never be something to each other.” You push her away from you, heels sinking into the ground and keeping you upright.

Her face falls.

It’s so dark in here but you’re so close to her you can tell.

“Y/N, I-”

You can’t listen to her talk so softly. Being away from the heat of the fire clears up your brain.

“Where’s Tyla?” her hands fall from your hips. “Tyla?!” you dig you heels out of the mud, finding her sitting on the log, talking animatedly to Matty about something. “Oh,” you mumble.

They’re both so absorbed in each other they don’t hear you. And suddenly, you’re the last one left.

You head to a nearby table and chug a bottle of water, shoving a cupcake into your mouth.

“I’m not gonna be alone tonight,” you mumble to yourself. You look up at the almost full moon. You eyes scan the crowd. Xavier isn’t exactly bad looking, and you just need someone tonight. You need anything.

You don’t know where Clarisse is. You tell yourself you don’t care.

You move through the crowd, adjusting your hair, breathing in and out. You won’t be alone tonight. You won’t.

You spot him sitting off to the side with his friends, the group of them sharing a bottle just like you did.

“Xavier!” you shout. His eyes turn to you immediately. He shoves the bottle into his friends hands, standing up and walking over to you like it was his entire purpose to.

“Y/N,” he eyes you up and down. “You look- you look fucking hot.”

“Thank you. Now, dance with me.”

He follows you, his arm gripped in your hand, you can feel him staring at your ass and you don’t care, dragging him towards the music, towards the dance floor.

His hand is all over your ass, your thigh, your hips, drawing you closer to him as you spin and his other winds it’s way around your face.

He’s not her. You can’t bring yourself to feel guilty about imagining her hands on you.

You put your arms around his neck, dancing in a way that would probably make your mother blush.

When you open your eyes, they’re locked with hers.

She seems to have made her way back to her friends, sitting on a log, leaning against her arm and staring at you. Her hands are clenched the same way they were that day. You can see her, you can see her perfectly and she can see you perfectly. She can see you and him.

Good.

You smile at her, waving the way you would have done to Xavier, except now the roles are reversed. He gets to have you, and she has to watch.

His mouth finds your neck. You laugh, throwing your head back, you don’t imagine her lips there. You just sink into the moment.

When your lips crash against his, there’s nothing except hot, hot desire. Like a blue flame, you’re all teeth and tongue, clashing together in a way that is purely carnal.

His hands are everywhere and you love it. It’s like a game, trying to guess where he’ll go next, and it keeps you so wonderfully distracted.

He tugs at the slit of your dress. You pull away for air.

“N-not here. Not yet.”

His greedy hand remains where it is until you shove it down, laughing lightly.

“Maybe later,” you whisper.

“You’re so beautiful,” he mumbles into your neck. “Just let me…” he spins you two around, his hand slips under your dress, against your bare ass.

“Xavier-” you push at his greedy hand again.

“So, so beautiful, like you’re a witch-”

He’s ripped away from you.

You watch in horror as Clarisse grabs him by the front of his shirt and punches him square in the face.

You start screaming obscenities at the top of your lungs.

Xavier only seems to find it funny.

“You fuckin’ jealous, Clarisse?” he laughs. “Fuckin’ jealous, wonder if he’d be proud of you now, beating up his own son for a daughter of Aphrodite?”

She punches him again. Again.

“Fuckin’ jealous?” he says again, laughing, spitting out blood. “Are you fucking jealous?”

One of her siblings finally grabs her and pulls her away. She shoves them off of her.

“I’ll kill you,” she whispers to him. He doesn’t seem scared at all. You stand there and watch, stupidly, feeling like a bird from the skies watching it all unfold, unable to do anything. “Stay away from her. Stay the fuck away from her.”

She looks at you, you faintly realize the music’s stopped.

“Clarisse-”

“She’s not yours!” Xavier laughs from the ground. “The weak Aphrodite girl doesn’t belong to you, that’s gotta sting, Clarisse-”

A love spell only change’s one’s emotions towards a person. Their personalities are the same. They way they behave under a love spell is the same way they’d behave in a regular relationship, except with a lasting relentlessness.

“Shut up, Xavier!” you shout. You’re so sick of him. Sick of his bullshit. He can’t even make out with you without thinking about the next step.

You see it fade from his eyes.

It shouldn’t be.

You watch in horror as the spell falls, you realize this all wasn’t supposed to happen. You were never supposed to actually kiss him.

“Witch,” he mumbles. He was just moaning that against your cheek a minute ago.

He holds his hands to his already red face.

“You’re a fucking witch.”

Everyone is looking at you, for once in your life, you hate it.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” you whisper.

Your eyes meet Clarisse’s. You can’t tell what’s on her face. You walk away.

—-

She finds you under the stars. Of course she does. You didn’t know where else to go. Cabin too stuffy. The lake is too far. The only place left is the woods, the spots where you would go with her.

She stands behind you. You can hear her breathing.

“Do you need something?” you mutter.

“I was selfish,” she starts.

You snort. Clarisse La Rue is a lot of things, you’ll be here all night.

“And I was hurt. So I took it out on you, which I really, really regret. You didn’t deserve that and it wasn’t true.”

It wasn’t true.

“Um, I was scared. So I made a decision for the both of us. But I’m not scared anymore.”

You place your hand on the grass next to you.

She sits, you don’t look at each other.

“That was all I had planned, but more has happened, so… uh, I was watching you the entire night, I guess. Not in a creepy way. I mean, you look, that dress… I couldn’t take my eyes away. Then you almost killed yourself on the logs.”

You smile.

“And I touched you again and I just, it was so much. Then you were on the dance floor, and he was all over you and- I was jealous. I was so jealous, like, I was actually about to go insane. And I saw you push his hand away, I saw him do it again, and I…”

“Went insane, berserk, crazy? Lost all proprietary?”

“Yeah,” she murmurs. “All of that. I’m not gonna apologize for punching the shit out of him. But I am sorry for the things I said.”

“Did you mean it?”

She just seems grateful you’re talking to her.

“Mean what?”

“That it wasn’t true.”

“It wasn’t true.”

You finally look at her. It feels so good to let go. To finally look at her, finally see her.

“I-I was just angry, and I-”

You’re sick of hearing her talk.

It’s nothing like the kiss with Xavier.

Its slow and sweet, heady like syrup, and you feel like you’re sinking beneath the current of some river. Your hands are on her face, she rests hers on your neck.

The kiss was Xavier was pure passion, no love, just bodies and bodies and no thoughts between them. This is all care, this is all slowness, this is all appreciation. It’s faces and faces, singular focus, one intent.

You pull away.

“I was so jealous,” she breathes, like it’s an explanation for the way she grabs you closer, harder, more, kissing you like Xavier did except it’s all erased. You can’t even remember what it feels like for someone else to touch you, let alone kiss you.

It just feels like her. It all feels like her, before her and after her.

When she finally starts to kiss down your neck, it’s so slow again, it’s like she can’t believe you’re in her arms, it’s like she can’t believe she’s got your hands on you. You grab her shoulders, you have her.

You look up towards the sky. Sorry I ever doubted you. Thanks, Mom.

You could see her across from you, you could see her on the dance floor, but now you can see her.

—-

y/n, talking to matty: yes i’m like about to slay amokinesis in a way it has never been slayed before

clarisse, who is NOT catching feelings: what the hell is this bitch doing to my girl

clarisse: ykw… im just gonna…. take her back thank you oh wdym no he’s looking we gotta fake date obvi (clarisse does not care if he’s looking)

—-

y/n, about to fucking die: i’m a bird! i’m jumping!

clarisse: no the fuck you’re not!

—-

clarisse when y/n is dancing in THE DRESS: oh i’m bricked up

—-

clarisse: if this bitch doesn’t get OFF my girl i’m gonna KILL SOMEONE

literally everyone: YOUR girl????

clarisse: nvm i’m just gonna fight him

everyone: not a logical solution???

—-

shoutout to jackie, tyla, and matty the loves of my life COULD NOT DO THIS WITHOUT THEM

also the tyla and matty agenda WILL be pushed

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison

[aventurineswife]

HIII!! May I request teen reader with parental figure!Jing Yuan? Reader is friends with Yanqing (I was thinking that reader is a cloud knight directly under Yanqing for missions... maybe? They got close as they're around the same age). They get even closer which lead him to invite reader to meet Jing Yuan, then that gets more frequent and Jing Yuan starts to go "mhm second child" and reader also goes "mhm parental figure"

This was just a random thought lmao, thank you!!

“The greatest gift a parent gives is the freedom to grow”

Summary: You, a teen Cloud Knight working alongside Yanqing, grow closer to Jing Yuan, the Arbiter-General of the Xianzhou Luofu. Through missions, training, and casual visits, your bond with Jing Yuan deepens, with him affectionately referring to you as his "child." The relationship evolves from respect to familial affection, with Jing Yuan becoming a parental figure to you.

Tags: Jing Yuan x Reader, Yanqing x Reader, Platonic, Parental Figure!Jing Yuan, Teen!Reader, Family Dynamics, Humor, Affectionate Relationships.

The soft glow of lanterns illuminated the training grounds of the Xianzhou Luofu as the sound of clashing swords echoed through the air. A faint smile tugged at your lips as you carefully observed the sparring between Yanqing and his opponent. You were supposed to be resting after a mission, but you couldn't resist the temptation to watch your friend in action. His strikes were quick, precise, and filled with the energy of someone who had been training relentlessly for years. You, however, preferred a quieter approach to combat, relying on strategy and careful planning rather than brute force.

"Hey, ready to join in?" Yanqing’s voice broke you from your thoughts.

You grinned, raising an eyebrow. "You want me to go easy on you?"

Yanqing scoffed, lowering his blade and flashing you an impish smile. "As if I need your pity."

"Don't worry," you said with a smirk, "I wouldn't give you pity if you begged for it."

He laughed, a sound that was light but full of confidence. "Well, you're on then."

Before you could step forward, Yanqing's gaze flickered to the side. His expression softened, and he quickly straightened up. "Ah, it's General."

You turned to follow his gaze, spotting Jing Yuan standing at the entrance to the training area, his sharp eyes surveying the scene with quiet attention. The serene aura that always surrounded him was like a calming breeze, and his presence was enough to make anyone pause in respect.

"General." Yanqing called out with a respectful bow.

Jing Yuan gave a small nod, his calm demeanor never wavering. "How are your lessons going, Yanqing?" His voice, though soft, held a weight to it that could silence any room.

"I’m progressing well," Yanqing replied with a bright smile, then turned to you. "Oh, and this is my friend, [Name]. They've been on missions with me for a while now."

Jing Yuan’s gaze shifted to you, and for a moment, you felt the weight of his eyes studying you—assessing, calculating. "It’s a pleasure to meet one of my student's companions. Yanqing speaks highly of you."

You straightened up, offering a polite bow, though the air between you and Jing Yuan felt a little more intimidating than you had expected. "The pleasure is mine, General. Yanqing is a skilled companion, and it’s an honor to work alongside him."

Jing Yuan smiled, but there was a certain mirth in his expression. "I see. Well, I trust you’re keeping him in check, then?"

Yanqing rolled his eyes, but you could see the pride in his stance. "I don’t need anyone to keep me in check, General."

"Of course not." Jing Yuan replied dryly, the slight amusement in his tone making you chuckle.

The next few weeks saw more and more of you accompanying Yanqing to meet the General. Jing Yuan’s calm, almost lazy demeanor intrigued you. Despite his reputation as the "Dozing General," there was a wisdom in his eyes, a depth that you found fascinating.

One day, after another successful mission together, Yanqing invited you to join him for a brief visit to Jing Yuan’s quarters. You hesitated for a moment, but curiosity won out.

Inside, Jing Yuan was as composed as ever, sitting at a low table with a scroll in hand, his eyes flicking up only when you and Yanqing entered.

"Ah, [Name], you’ve returned," he remarked, though his tone was casual, as though you’d been coming and going for years.

"I’m just stopping by," you said, with a small grin. "I’ll be out of your hair soon."

Jing Yuan’s lips quirked up slightly, but he didn’t comment. Instead, he set the scroll down and beckoned you over to join them. "Sit, sit. Yanqing, I trust you’ve been teaching them well?"

You chuckled, settling into the seat next to him. "Well, I wouldn't say teaching per se... But I’ve been keeping Yanqing from getting too reckless."

"Reckless, you say?" Yanqing shot you a playful glare, clearly not offended, but you could see the glimmer of pride in his eyes.

"Reckless is an understatement," you teased back.

Jing Yuan leaned back slightly, eyeing the two of you with a thoughtful expression. "I can see that you’ve become quite close. It’s good to see Yanqing surrounded by such capable people."

You nodded, trying to hide the small blush that crept up on your face. "Thank you, General. It’s been... an honor to work alongside him."

"Mm," Jing Yuan said, his eyes twinkling with a knowing look. "You’ve done well, both of you."

Over time, your visits to Jing Yuan’s quarters became more frequent, especially after missions or during downtime. At first, it was just casual conversations—discussions of recent missions, lighthearted banter, or even moments of silent reflection. But the more time you spent with him, the more you began to feel a strange sense of belonging in his presence.

Jing Yuan often referred to you as his “child,” though he said it with a fondness that made your heart warm in a way you didn’t quite understand. It wasn’t the strict, authoritative tone that most might use with a subordinate, but more like the gentle prodding of a parent who cared deeply but didn’t need to say it outright.

And you, in turn, began to call him "father figure" in response, sometimes with an exaggerated bow or a playful grin, but it was always said with genuine affection.

"You've been practicing your swordsmanship well, I see," Jing Yuan remarked one day as he watched you and Yanqing spar. "But remember, [Name], there is no shame in using your mind as well as your strength."

You paused mid-strike, a sheepish smile tugging at your lips. "I know, I know. It’s just hard to put down the sword sometimes."

He chuckled softly, his eyes filled with warmth. "Take your time. You’re still learning."

There was something about the way he said it that made you feel seen—not just as a warrior or a Cloud Knight, but as a person. Someone who was growing, who still had room to learn, and most importantly, someone who mattered.

"I will, General," you said, the familiar teasing tone in your voice. "I’ll try not to disappoint."

"I know you won’t, my child." Jing Yuan replied, the corners of his lips curving upward.

And just like that, the unspoken bond between you and Jing Yuan grew stronger. The calm, wise, and patient leader of the Xianzhou had become more than just an ally or mentor—he had become a father figure, and in turn, you had become a beloved part of his ever-expanding family.

[livelaughloveluffy]

darling - sir crocodile

a/n: thank you everyone who filled out this poll, due to extremely popular demand, i figured i would start writing for crocodile first, but i'm definitely planning on eventually branching out to more one piece characters!!

a/n: also apologies for not posting in awhile!! i really thought i was spared from the fanfic writer curse, but this past week i've been recovering from a concussion since i randomly collapsed 💀

a/n: but to bring some sense of normalcy back to me posting, i couldn't help but recommend this song for this read. i listened to it on repeat while writing this and it perfectly encapsulates the vibe of this fic.

it gets a bit smutty under the cut 🖤 viewer discretion is advised

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when you were initially brought to baroque works, you had never imagined that you'd be working so close with the man running the organization. sir crocodile had an extensive and well-known reputation. he was mostly known for having ambitious desires and how he'd do anything to reach them.

even if that meant using brute force.

his position and power alone was something to flinch at. the very idea of it makes your skin crawl. you don't get to be an emperor of the sea without stepping on the toes of many other people.

maybe it was sheer stupidity or optimistic naivety that lead you to believe the same wouldn't be true romantically....

• ♡ •

it wasn't until your first day on the job at rain dinners that you found out you weren't just an ordinary member of the cleaning staff, but a privately selected member to clean for sir crocodile himself.

to say you were intimidated was an understatement. everything about crocodile had you walking on eggshells; from his age difference to his personality. the stone-cold stern expression that was practically embedded into his face instantly made you weak in the knees.

and it didn't help that crocodile relished in any opportunity to tease new employees.

• ♡ •

with one glance at your mandatory uniform, you could just tell it was designed to just slightly degrade you. from the tightness of the fabric to how the skirt was slightly shorter in the back. the frilly maid dress that was now adorn on your body was just another test of your confidence and endurance.

it's only once you mustered up all your courage, did you open the door to sir crocodile's office.

• ♡ •

the first thing you noticed as you walked into crocodile's office wasn't the extravagance of it all. the lavish antique wooden furniture with deep velvet cushions go unnoticed. a personal library that must've cost a small fortune was also ignored.

everything else in the room just seemed to pale at the fiery gaze of the very man himself. crocodile's face donned in an unrelentingly dour expression while his eyes seemed to dance with lust and fervor.

once you're able to get past the shock itself of being this close to a man such as sir crocodile, a slight panic crawls over your body. embarrassed at the awkward silence and unintentional staring contest you've been having with your boss, your cheeks flush. it isn't until crocodile finally utters out the command "you can start with organizing the papers over there." that you remember how to move your body again.

luckily, the table he was referring to was in the corner of the room, allowing you to turn your back to his prying stare. with your face concealed and vision clear from crocodile, you're finally able to compose yourself and focus on the task at hand.

you take a moment to surveil the mass hoards of paper, seemingly thrown onto the desk without a second thought. hundreds of financial documents, contracts, and reports were stacked with no particular system. you definitely had your work cut out for you.

• ♡ •

your hands moving swiftly from stack to stack, placing the papers in their consolidated group. you were so engrossed in your newfound organizational system, that you didn't even notice how close sir crocodile was. until his sultry deep voice reached your ear as a delicate whisper. "darling... you should know just how dangerous it is to be here looking that gorgeous.." you could feel the hot air of his taunt tickle the inside of your ear due to the closeness of his lips.

once you finally build up the courage to meet his eyes, gaze sharp and piercing, his hand had already found a firm grip on your hip. and with his hook engraved in the wood of the table, enclosing your body in between his arms, you were left utterly helpless to his whims.

you could practically taste the cigar smoke radiating from sir crocodile as he spoke. "a pretty girl like you doesn't stand a chance alone with me..."

it took all the strength in your body to not crumble to the ground as you felt his hand begin to move at a painfully slow pace. his touch was firm and unabashed. sir crocodile was the kind of man who had no issue making his presence be known. you couldn't help but be utterly absorbed into him. every gasp of air you took was drenched in the fragrance of smoked cedar wood that emanated from crocodile. the warmth of his body pressed against your back and towering over you was all consuming.

the most you could do was choke out a faint whisper of the word "sir..." before your brain did backflips to try and process the sudden breeze and emptiness next to you.

you frantically turn your head side-to-side and do two 360 degree spins before noticing crocodile was back in his desk chair. his feet crossed at the ankles and thrown on top of his desk, as if he was just lounging around. you watched as his seemingly disinterested expression turns into a wide smirk.

the sound of his deep bellied laugh and the searing hot burn of blush on your cheeks was ingrained into your memory.

• ♡ •

when you finally make it back to your designated room at rain dinners, you instantly collapse into the plush mattress of your bed. drained from a long day of work and emotional whiplash, you lay sprawled on your back. and it's only then, with your eyes heavy from exhaustion, sleep about to overtake you, that you indulge in your deepest darkest fantasy of feeling sir crocodile's touch again.

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tags ♡: @vamphoria

a/n: hopefully the long fic made up for my absence!! i had way too much fun writing it!! do not fret, there will definitely be a part two for this fic!!!

want to join the taglist? click here!! (it's just been updated with more characters to choose from, if you've already filled it out before, feel free to submit it again if your heart desires!!)

a/n: enjoyed this fic? here's my masterlist!!

[therobotmonster]

What does the Comic tell us About the Brute Force Toyline that Never Was?

Brute Force was Marvel's failed attempt at joining in the toy-cartoon-comic fun back in 1990.

What isn't often talked about (if ever) is how much effort Jose Delbo (and whoever else was doing character design work in pre-production) put into planning for the realities of toy design, because it's not hard to suss out what was intended from the art alone.

Parts Reuse Was Planned From the Start:

The metal production molds are the most expensive part of toy production, so any time you can reuse parts across multiple figures is a savings. Each side has two unique members (Hip-Hop and Lionheart for Brute Force, Armory and Ramrod for Heavy Metal) three that share obvious parts with an opposing figure.

Uproar and Wreckless appear to use the same upper arms, upper legs, pelvis and probably chest. Uproar's bullets were likely planned as an accessory.

Surfstreak and Bloodbath appear to just have different heads, maybe tails, and either different accessories and limbs or just different accessories depending on execution.

Soar/Slipstream and Tailgunner appear to have unique add-on armor for the wings, heads, and legs. The wings might also been different, but I'd guess that when time came to mold plastic they'd have used the same ones.

Size Classes are Easy to Guess:

The "charge into battle" shot gives you every indication of what size everyone was going to be sold at. My guess, based on the art and the action features later shown off, is it would break down like this:

Small - Soar, Surfstream, Bloodbath, Tailgunner

Medium - Lionheart, HIp-Hop, Ramrod, Uproar.

Large - Wreckless, Armory, the toxic mutant (if they planned on making the off-theme guys)

Super Large - Heroic and Evil Transports

It's harder to place Heavy Metal since they don't seem to have add-on vehicles, but the art represents Armory as being huge and a major threat...

And uproar seems to have mass equal to Lionheart on his cycle, though he might have been packed in with the villain's large transport or had another add-on vehicle planned later.

It's likely that the vehicle-attached figures would have gotten solo releases, likely with different decos. As was the style at the time.

They Planned for Action Features, and I think I know what they were.

Furman and Delbo knew how to make a toy-comic, and everyone gets to show off their action feature in a toy-comic. Brute Force leaves some solid clues for what those features would have been. Now, there would probably have been launchers (Wreckless's Bearzooka), water-shooters (Surfstream almost certainly had one), etc, but I'm talking more about the showcase feature.

Surfstream and Bloodbath Were Low-Effort Transformers-

-or else they were biting MOTU Dragstor's style. Surfstream and Bloodbath clearly had both swimming/rolling configurations and upright figure configurations.

Soar (and likely Tailgunner) Had Blast-Away Armor

You don't do this trick twice in 4 issues if it's not your gimmick.

Wreckless and Uproar loved Hugs

My guess is there was at least some thought put into the possibility of Wreckless and Uproar having a "bear hug" feature that could work as general limb-swinging and chest pounding. In addition to the grabs Wreckless does a lot of right hooks and, oddly Uproar mainly fights with his mace for a character with bullet bandoleers. This one's harder to nail down because the actions are very obvious for bear/ape characters, but either a weapon-swing or a grab/bear hug seems really likely.

Wreckless's gun is the kind that you could mount on a figure's shoulder without them needing to hold it in-hand, so the arms might have been free for the action feature if my guess is right.

This Octopus Bastard Spins

You can't tell me Armory doesn't spin. perfectly radially symmetrical middle section designed in such a way the central body could spin while the legs and head stay stationary. arms that grip weapons or other figures, he's huge and clearly meant to be Heavy Metal's mega-weapon. He spins.

Hop-To Heroes

Now, if there's one thing the Brute Force characters do, it's leap. But the characters with the larger lock-on vehicle armor all leap out of the vehicle to attack a foe at least once.

I have to wonder if the vehicle figures were intended to be ejected from the vehicle as a leaping attack. (this would seem thematically in line with the armor-shed gimmick from Soar) This would be in addition to some general reconfiguration between low-riding "speed" modes and upright battle modes.

Ramrod would have had a headbutt gimmick.

It's literally all he does in the comic. I don't think he even has a gun.

Conclusions

Brute Force was intended into be a not just an action figure line, but a feature-heavy character driven line. The play patterns imagined were ambitious. I see Starriors, Transformers and Centurions DNA in there, and it would have been a lot more fun than Captain Planet for an eco-themed franchise.

The Marvel crew clearly learned a lot from the toy industry from working with Hasbro, Kenner, Mattel, Mego and numerous others through the years, and it shows. This concept started with toy ideas, it's just a pity no one was incentivized to make them.

[muwapsturniolo]

Hockey!matt

First post in the AU!

MATT STURNIOLO: PASSIONATE OR A HOT HEAD?

"Matthew Bernard Sturniolo, a 24-year-old triplet native to Boston Massachusetts. According to his parents, from a young age he and his youngest brother Christopher Owen Sturniolo, were always interested in sports. Seeing this, the parents decided to throw the boys in any sport they could. They started off playing for their town's soccer team, a typical thing for most kids to do. However, it seemed as if the sport wasn't enough for a young Matthew. It was too easy, he cleared all the other kids without even trying. Seeing this, his parents threw him into another sport, lacrosse. Now this held Matthew over for a long time until it became boring, he needed something more.

That's when hockey came into play, a sport most boys in Boston find solace in during the cold months. The sport seemed to be Matt's calling, the ice feeling like a second home. His talent was natural, something most people couldn't obtain no matter how much they trained. He ended up loving the sport so much, he made it his full-time career.

At age 17, he graduated high school alongside his two brothers and their childhood best friend. All four boys managed to get full-ride scholarships to Boston University, a school that had many NCAA wins, and has sent many players to the NHL. Matt took control of the Terriers by force, quickly becoming the captain when only being a freshman. Many of his former teammates and coaches had good things to say about him, but something stood out to me. That something was his anger.

"He was a hothead, always shouting and yelling at us during practice"

"There were a couple of times where he broke his stick and punched a locker after losing a game"

"I remember he argued with our coach one day. The argument was so bad, both of them just ripping into each other. It escalated so quick, one second they were shouting and the next Matt was throwing punches."

All of these are quotes by old teammates who would like to stay anonymous.

It was an evident pattern that managed to follow him to where he is now, the lucky star of the Boston Bruins. I had the specialty of sitting in on some of the practices, seeing how the men work with each other. Just like I expected, Matt was a force to be reckoned with. He yelled and berated some of his teammates, even going as far as getting into an argument with his own brother. It's hard to tell if it's just him being driven by passion, or if he simply has anger issues. I chose to go with the latter considering what I saw during the first game of the preseason.

The Bruins were losing against the New York Rangers, not that the score mattered. The preseason is mainly for the coaches to evaluate their team and see who fits where. So why was Matt Sturniolo causing fights, yelling at refs, and being an overall hothead? He resembled the Hulk, the brute green giant who was also a hothead when angry. It seems as if no matter the situation, training, preseason, or the actual NHL season, he was locked in and out for blood.

He's passionate about the sport, perhaps too passionate. Would it be his downfall? Would the Bruins let him go and leave him to reminisce about his glory days while he rots? We will have to tune in to this year's NHL season to find out."

Y/n Y/L * october 3rd, 2024

AHHHHHH A NEW TROPE/AU!!!!! I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY THIS! IF THIS IS CONFSUING IM SORRY! I TRIED TO MAKE THIS INTRO THE ARTICLE READER (AKA YOU) WROTE ABOUT MATT WHICH JUST SO HAPPENS TO BE HOW YALL MEET! I HOPE THIS GIVES A GOOD BACKGROUND! I PLAN ON DOING FICS FOR THIS AU BUT IM ALSO WILLING TO DO BLURBS JUST HOW I DID FOR BUNNY!READER!!!

LET ME KNOW WHAT YALL THINK!!

[luvt0kki]

INTERLUDE | OPENING SEQUENCE

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧ s.w.m masterlist ୨୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ taglist ⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨୧

This scene that locked me up The sequence that's like forever Stay for me, stay for me, stay for me I can't get used to it, used to it, used to it

🎧: Opening Sequence - TXT

previous | INTERLUDE | next

pairings: ot8 x f!reader (san x reader)

w.c : 10k ( im sorry for any errors)

cw: mature, ,minors do not interact, nsfw, reader is afab, slow burn, polyamory, smut , bittersweet, angst, MC's background is inspired by Black Widow's background with the Red Room, reader is called sweet heart/baby, hints of abuse/manipulation, mc’s past, mention of their training days, injuries, scars, loss of virginity, first time, very very very longgggggg chapter I’m sorry

REMINDER: my works do not represent the irl members in any way, this is purely a work of FICTION.

a/n : surprise? SPECIAL CHAPTER!!!! I hope you guys like this one. I didn’t initially plan to write this but after posting chapter 005 I wanted to write something different or something else and this came about. I hope you guys like. Thank you for being so patient with me 🥺💗

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE, OR OTHERWISE REPURPOSE ANY OF MY WORK HERE. I DO NOT NOR WILL ALLOW IT.

“How long do you think before they find us here?”

The young assassin paused, his heart dropping. Never has he ever heard you, YOU, out of all the graduated students of the Academy, sound like this.

You were always so sure of yourself but now, he was hearing a completely different person yet so familiar. When was the last time he heard you like this? He was quick to recall it and that ache in his chest began to feel as if he was burning from the inside. This small, unsure, and weak voice belonged to the little girl he grew up with before the academy changed everything and he never heard you like this again.

Til today.

He was scared to turn around.

If your own resolve was shaking then the situation was worse than he thought.

San shook his head and continued to look around the padded room looking for any signs of a possible escape. Even if you two did get out, you two would have nothing but your knives and your fists.

“No one’s going to come for us, aren’t they Sannie?” You choked out his nickname so softly, that he felt his heart broke. “At the end of the day…” you went on, the fears of a little girl that San had failed to protect breaking through the facade the Academy molded and chiseled you in. “I’m just one of their many weapons. The other girls in the Academy…they’re good. Better. I will be of no use soon.”

San’s hands were beginning to tremble uncontrollably as he reloaded the gun. You were the Academy’s proudest creation, you had set the standard. Though those things were true, these were your fears. They were just as real.

“We’ve sent a Morse code to them. They’ll find us soon. They won’t let you go as easily.” San swallowed the lump in his throat trying to maintain composure and not let the impending doom of you both get to him.

What made him sadder was that he was right. The Academy won’t let you go. You were chained to them in a way, he wasn’t.

“Sannie…”

They could afford to lose him. He was a part of the top three of those who graduated with him but he wasn’t the first of the batch.

“They’ll come for you.”

The room that confined you two was dim. The skylight let some moonlight shine through to illuminate what it could in the darkness you two were submerged in. Did your captors really believe the Academy would buy their ransom for two of their assassins? They would come with a brute force that would leave them nothing in ashes. If no one came for the two of you, they’ll kill you both or worse, sell the two of you off to the market.

San would kill them before they even thought of selling you as a slave.

“Sannie, it’s cold.”

His composure broke then.

Gone was the weapon the Academy created.

Without any hesitation, San went to where you had been sitting (on the white sheet mattress in the room they threw you two in) then pulled you onto his lap with his arms wrapped around you. Your skin was cold to the touch and his desperation to hold you only grew. He cradled you so gently in his arms, scared that if he embraced you tighter you’d shatter.

“It’s going to be okay,” he whispered, resting his chin on the top of your head as he kept his gaze up, fighting back tears and the urge to press his lips on the the crown of your head. “I’m here. I'm not going anywhere.”

You were taught to never take anyone’s words seriously. Always doubt them, they once said. Doubt them until they prove it because you can never know what they mean and yet, you believed every word San said.

Every promise he has ever made, he kept them. Everything he said he would do, he did. But even if he didn’t prove to be a man of his word, the part of you that you pushed in the dark, would believe him blindly.

His strong arms held you in a way you never knew you needed to be held and the warmth of his body was giving you, melted away the armor you didn’t have the luxury to take off.

“Sannie,”

He loved it when you called him Sannie. Since you two met, he was your Sannie. If you asked him now, just once, to be yours, he’d be yours forever.

“Yeah?” He caressed your back in gentle circles, taking note of how your shivering lessened and your breathing calmed.

You didn’t continue your thought. It got stuck in your throat. How could you possibly say what you wanted to? Instead, you opted to bury your face into his neck. You’ll think about it for a bit…because what if it was the wrong time to say it?

“Can I hold your hand?”

Your voice was such a soft whisper, that San almost didn’t hear it. It was like you were embarrassed to have even asked, even though he’s held your hand so many times in secret during your training days when it was an evaluation day.

San hummed in response and carefully, still cradling you in his lap with your head leaning on his chest, slipped his hand with yours. He stared at your hands as he did. His hand was bigger than yours and his heart dropped when he realized you had taken off your gloves. Such delicate hands were bruised at the knuckles and hands that only ever touched or brushed him so gently.

He knew in your head you could only see how stained your arms were with blood.

“Your hands are cold,” he pointed out, pouting a little at the fact and like he did when you were younger, he took both your hands and brought them close to his mouth to breathe warmth into them.

You felt your heart thump particularly strong in your chest. The feelings you’ve had for San that you had hidden away because you were told you could never be loved nor love for you were only a weapon, returned.

Because you are a weapon, you would only ever hurt the people you love.

“How are you so warm?” You chuckled, falling into a comfort you denied yourself for so long. “If I remember correctly, you were such a small petite thing when we were younger. I was afraid you wouldn’t make it past the selection.”

He laughed softly at the memory. “I didn’t want to be left behind. I need to be with you no matter what.” He let himself speak freely and honestly, letting his hands warm yours.

“I would’ve purposely failed if that was the case. I wouldn’t want to continue on without you.” You admitted, feeling the ache of your muscles finally hit you.

“They would’ve known if you did.”

“That’s true.”

“I would catch up to you no matter what. To be by your side…” San paused, afraid to say what he wanted to in fear that you may not feel the same. “For a long time, I believe that’s where I belong.”

His words caught you off guard. Did Sannie know? Did he know that you loved him? There was no way he could but the possibility of attraction between the two of you could not be ruled out so easily. It was there. You both knew it. You two just never spoke of it.

“Do you still believe that?” You asked, feeling a little braver and desperate.

What if this was it? It had been four days since the enemy got the upper hand and immobilized you and San and sealed you two up in this room. What if the Academy did abandon you both? Weapons are replaceable.

“I’m here with you now, aren’t I?”

He’s always been there.

You lifted your head off his shoulder to gaze up at him.

Gone was the little boy you worried about whenever you two trained separately. The one who was easily thrown and bullied around by his much stronger contenders. You were afraid of losing him even then because you had wondered why someone with such a gentle heart could ever hurt people. For goodness sake, he continued to let himself get beaten up just because one of the much younger trainees out of desperation and hunger, stole a piece of roasted sweet potato.

Before you now was a man. San still had the handsomeness he’s had since he was younger except it matured and bloomed into sharp features and a striking beauty that lost all the softness of his younger self. His body was no longer frail and sickly. His back and shoulders became broad, lean muscles had grown and given him more shape that reminded you of the prowess of a black panther.

But when he smiled.

He was the Sannie you cared for and loved so deeply…so quietly.

“Can you promise me something?” You asked, feeling your heart begin to ache.

“Anything for you.” He smiled softly down at you and you wished he hadn’t because it’d made your heart want him even more.

“If we get out of this alive…” you felt tears begin to form in your eyes. “Promise me you’ll leave the academy.”

“Y/N—,” he began to protest, sitting up a little bit you shushed him gently and changed your positions.

You cupped his face gently with your hands and looked straight into his eyes.

“When we get out of here, you need to disappear. Leave this life behind.”

San has never seen you cry since the Selection. Your eyes which were usually blank and cold, and that only ever warmed when you looked at him were glassy with tears and there was fear in them. Pure fear and hurt.

“P-please, Sannie. Leave the Academy.”

Why were you asking him something so difficult?

“You deserve more than this life. You should be able to live freely and to love freely. Leave all this behind. Leave me behind.” You were begging him now, your hot tears falling onto his beautiful face. His eyes were so gentle as they looked up at you.

“Don’t ask me of this, Y/N.” He tried to be stern to mask the breaking of his heart. “You know I can’t do that!” He wrapped his arms around your waist. “I can’t. I can’t…I can’t.” His voice was trembling, both your fears breaking you down.

“Do it for me, Sannie.” You wiped his tears away with your thumbs, fighting the urge to kiss the beauty mark on his upper cheek. “If one of us gets to be free, it should be you.”

“That’s not fair, Y/N.” He grabbed you by the back of your neck while his other hand brought your leg to be able to wrap around him, consumed by the need to be close to you. He pressed your forehead against his.

“We both deserve to live. If we’re talking about who should be free, it should be you.” He said through gritted teeth, still not letting all his composure go. How could you think so little of your life? “You’re not a weapon.”

He took your hand and placed it over where his heart would be. “We both have hearts that beat. We both have tears to cry. You breathe just like I do. You feel just like I do…you can love just like I do.”

San’s words echoed in your head, they rang like an alarm as those words breached the codes that the Academy programmed into you.

You couldn’t think straight. None of you could.

‘You can love just like I do.’

Could you, really?

Your bleary eyes searched San’s glimmering onyx orbs. You were scared to find nothing but conviction and such surety that made you believe him that you could. The hope in his eyes frightened you.

You didn’t know how to love. You only assumed to know that love was a precious emotion you could never have. The Academy said love was a weakness but all the training and programming they did, seemed to not exist at this very moment. Neither did it for San.

Well in his case, you had always been his exception to every rule. He’d break rules, laws, and bones for you.

“I don’t know if I can,” you sobbed softly. The fact you don’t even know how to love makes you feel as if you weren’t human.

Love was different from lust. You knew that. Everyone, even those under the Academy, had needs and everyone was left to handle it themselves as long as it didn’t compromise their abilities or get in the way of missions.

To put it simply, they just fucked for the feeling of it.

But no one touched you. You wouldn’t let it happen. You couldn’t. The other girls were nice enough to tell you how to do it yourself and you wondered if San has ever needed to get those needs out of the way…and the thought of who it could’ve been with made your chest ache at the thought.

“You can.” He smiled, so soft and gentle, it made you wonder if anyone else in the galaxy could look at you that way. So fondly and not the monster and killer you really were.

San held your hand that was against his heart tightly, still smiling up at you so sweetly you didn’t think you could handle that look. It was so foreign to you.

“Y/N, if you’ll let me,” San didn’t care anymore. If you two were going to die tomorrow and if he was going to do as you made him promise, he’d hold you and speak as if this was his last night in this life. “Let me make you feel. It doesn’t have to be love. But please, let me make you truly feel.”

You knew you could say no and it would be okay. All your time in the Academy, you realized the only time you ever felt safe was when you were with San. You didn’t have to keep your guard up with him and you didn’t have to lie to him.

Throwing all caution out the window and focusing on San, just him, you exhaled softly, unaware that you had been holding your breath.

“O-okay.” You held his face softly once more, telling yourself he was real. That he was here, he had never left you not once and he wouldn’t leave you til you told him to. “P-please Sannie.” Your voice quivered. “I want to feel alive.”

“Don’t cry, my darling,” he cooed, wiping your tears away. “You know I’ll do anything for you, right?”

You nodded, letting yourself enjoy the soft touch of his hands in your hair and on your face, and the warmth of his embrace.

“Can I kiss you?”

You felt heat bloom in your cheeks at the question. San knew you’d never been kissed. Well, he knew because first of all, he was your closest friend in the Academy and you told him everything, and secondly, he may or may not have scared off anyone else who wanted to.

“O-okay.” You’ve never felt so shy.

“I won’t ever hurt you, Y/N.” He leaned closer, your heart racing you felt as if it was going to jump out of your chest. “With everything I am and as long as I’m around, I won’t let anything hurt you.”

Your lips parted the slightest bit as his sweet words overwhelmed you with a sensation you’ve only ever felt in tingles whenever you were with him and now they were bursts of warmth that radiated throughout your body.

The plumpness of your lips and that innocent and pure way you gazed at home made him lose all his resolve. Softly as if handling the finest and most fragile porcelain, he pressed his lips against yours, their softness and their warmth, and the closeness of it all, made him feel as if the world had stopped.

You didn’t know what to do but when his lips gently moved against yours, a part of you made you do the same. It’s like your body needed to reciprocate his actions naturally. Maybe it was because you had thought about kissing him and wondered about it late at night til your face was hot and you were flustered at the imagination of what it’d feel to be closer to Sannie in a different way…

Gently, San helped you sit comfortably on his lap, supporting your back as he kissed you, tasting the sweetness of your lips that had a hint of metallic taste from the small cut on your lower lip. He’d kiss away all your cuts and bruises if you’d let him. He’d kiss them to make you forget the pain.

San was still holding back though.

He didn’t want to do anything you didn’t want.

But the way you had begun to kiss him back with the same need as he did, only made it harder for him to not lose himself.

Pulling away reluctantly, he looked at you. Your pretty lashes fluttered so prettily as you blinked dreamily at him, your lips were a glistening pink and your cheeks were glowing.

What made San fall even harder in that moment was the way you shyly looked away when he had been staring.

“Sannie…” you murmured, squeezing his shoulders nervously and completely aware that you were sitting on his lap, straddling him.

You just had your first kiss. San had just kissed you.

“Can I touch you?”

You felt your ears grow hot. “Aren’t you already?” You murmured. His hands were already on your waist and when they weren’t there they were in your hair or caressing your face.

“Let me rephrase that,” He chuckled and pressed his lips onto the corner of your mouth. “Can I…” he kissed your cheek, each kiss making warmth bloom wherever they touched you. “Touch…” He caressed the curve of your spine, your lower back tingling at the gentle touch. “All of you?”

“Y-yes.” You had uttered out so quickly and softly, that you felt embarrassed. You didn’t even think twice.

“You can touch me too,” San began to kiss along the column of your neck, the sensation making you shiver. “You can touch me however you want, Y/N.” He gripped your hips just a little bit tighter, enjoying the way you cutely squirmed.

“Sannie,” you softly called out to him, making him part from your neck which he had been kissing and licking.

His brows rose at your call, waiting for whatever you needed to say but in all honesty, you just needed to feel his lips on yours again.

So without a word, you cradled San’s handsome face in both hands before crashing your lips onto his, surprising not only him but also yourself at how greedy you had become. You didn’t know you could feel such sensations and the kiss just sparked a flame you never knew could come alive, and now that it was lit, it began to burn.

“T-touch me,” you whispered desperately between kisses, his own lips hungrily kissing you back.

San felt as if he was dreaming when those words slipped past your lips and even more so how prettily you moaned when caressed the underside of your breast with his thumb. He was surprised with how sensitive you were. You were still in your cat suit and yet you reacted so quickly to his touch.

His lips and your lips messily danced with desperation to drink each other's heat and passion. Your own hands had begun to tug at his armored protective suit while he also made quick work of your catsuit. San not wanting to leave the warmth of your lips, took his time to unzip the front of your suit. He wanted to be gentle with you despite the lust that was burning him from the inside out he just wanted to feel you and make you feel.

His lips finally left yours only to attack your neck with hot kisses, making you moan out softly. Gently he laid you on the worn-out mattress, parting from you completely so he could kneel between your thighs. Your eyes remained on him as he removed his protective vest, discarding it somewhere in the room before he peeled off his long sleeve over his head. His muscular chiseled body was illuminated by the moonlight, every ridge and ripple of muscle was accentuated by the shadows of the room. You felt a familiar heat pool in your lower body the more you stared at San’s physique and you blushed and turned away when he caught you staring.

The edge of San’s mouth twitched into a small smile, finding your timidness to be rather adorable. He liked how flustered you became because of him. San reached for your hips to pull you closer, your eyes widening when he did.

San found the zipper of your catsuit again, his heart thrumming in his chest as he slowly pulled it down. His breathing grew heavy as yours quickened with how the suit slowly opened revealing glimpses of your naked skin beneath. The rise and fall of your chest along with the sight of the valley of your breasts and hints of your body before him, made his throat dry.

He wanted to take his time but at the same time, his long infatuation that had turned to something more over the years made it difficult.

When the cold air kissed your bare skin, you felt your nipples pebble and harden against the fabric of the suit, making you want to rub your thighs together but that was impossible when San was knelt between your thighs.

“Can I keep going?” He asked you, pausing the pull of your zipper before it could go lower than your belly button. He searched for any uneasiness in your eyes but instead, he found such a sweet yet sinful look in them.

You nodded. “Y-yes, please.”

Gently, he helped you slip your arms out of the suit, his breath hitching at the sight of your bare pretty breasts bouncing free as he bunched the specialized Kevlar-like fabric at your waist. His palms were at least a micro-centimeter away from your skin. Almost afraid and hesitant to truly feel you. An assassin without their suit was just as deadly as them having one but with you, he felt as if without it, you were just a woman. A woman who wanted to be loved…a woman he loved.

Kissing you drove him crazy enough but to get to touch you? He’s going to crumble.

It seemed you had noticed his hesitation and driven by your silent desire, you took his hand and splayed fingers and pressed his palm over the middle of your chest, close to where your heart would be.

You didn’t say a word as his eyes snapped to meet yours. All it told him was that this was consensual, that you wanted him to touch you, and that he could keep going.

If this was truly yours and his last night in this world, none of you wanted to hold back.

“Sannie…” his heart stopped when you softly called out his name. Your eyes looked into his as if he brought you peace, there was no turmoil nor anxiety in them. The cold and dark blankness that they held when you’re on a mission or on Academy grounds was absent.

Right here, before him was just you. The young girl he once knew that the Academy caged and programmed to be a weapon in their beck and call, a woman who did not have the time to love or be loved, nor was allowed to. But if you were to tell him you were incapable of loving, he’d prove to you that you were wrong.

Maybe you didn’t know it then but the compassion you had shown him during your trainee days when he was nothing but the runt of the litter of kids with no future chosen by the Academy to be given a chance, that in its own way was love.

The way you stuck by him, took time to check if he was okay and to defend him from higher ranking assassins, even if it was platonic or more, it was love.

You slipped your fingers into his, intertwining them.

“Keep going.”

There was a hint of sadness in your smile despite the way you looked so longingly at him as if he were the warm shining sun.

He continued to unravel you. Gently, he rolled the fabric to slip past your hips. Despite your line of work, your skin was close to perfect in his eyes. No deep scars nor wounds that left a memory of your missions plus the Academy took good care of their favorites.

But the sight before him proved him wrong.

His heart dropped into his stomach and he felt your hand squeeze his.

Below your belly button and not fully hidden by the waistband of your black underwear, a long jagged scar curved along your lower abdomen. The scar was healed but it left its mark. It sickly smiled at him in a deeper shade than your complexion with pinkish hues.

“W-what is this?” He held your hip gently, his thumb caressing your hipbone afraid to touch that area skin, should you not like it.

He felt his heart break when you only looked at him sadly. “Y/N, w-what is this?” He croaked out hoarsely, his heart breaking when you looked at him that way and continued to hold his hand in yours.

“My graduation.”

The world stopped and he heard nothing but a dull ringing in his ears.

The Academy.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it didn’t matter. Why should I speak of something that I could never get back.”

“D-don’t talk like that. Y/N you should’ve told me.”

You sat up, heart breaking when you heard his voice crack. San didn’t even realize that tears were falling from his eyes as he stared at that mocking smiling scar. Just when he thought the Academy couldn’t take any more from you, they took everything.

Well, almost everything. But not him. They were not taking him away from you. Never.

“Sannie, don’t cry.” You smiled, wiping his tears away. “I didn’t tell you 'cause I knew you’d cry.” You took a deep breath, finally telling your closest friend of so many years the secret you’ve kept from him. “This is why you should leave the Academy and live a life you truly deserve. You have a chance for a future you want. Mine…well…mine was taken from me. It was a silly dream I had when we were kids.”

“When we spent time around the towns and I’d see people getting married and having families, I thought I could have that. I thought I was going to marry you and have a family. At twelve years old.” You laughed softly at the childhood memory. “At twelve years old, I looked at you, my best friend, and thought ‘I’m going to marry San’ and that we’re going to be as happy as the families I’ve seen. That I would have a child and give them the life I never had…but then the Academy happened.”

San’s tears streamed down his handsome face and you held his face in your hands once more, making him look at you.

“I don’t want to think about that tonight. I don’t want to think about what I went through to stay alive.” You leaned down to kiss his jaw and your breath was hot against his ear as you uttered words that shattered his heart even more. “So don’t touch me like I’m made of glass. You can’t break something that’s already broken. Make me forget, Sannie.”

You kissed him again then took his hand that was on your hip and guided it to cup your breast, your body tingling and warming at the touch. The simple gesture told him one thing. Throw caution out the window. Nothing else mattered now except you and him. If both of you were going to die tomorrow, you both wanted to feel love and act on desires that both of you held back on.

Driven by the love he harbored for you for so long, he attacked your neck with heated kisses and caressed your bare torso with such a need to feel your skin.

Your warmth and your scent, he could die in it.

Sloppily, he licked and nibbled at the juncture of your neck and shoulder before going lower, and hungrily taking the soft peak of your breast into his hot mouth.

You gasped and moaned at the sudden and new sensation, your body tingling over and your hips mindlessly grinding on San’s thigh. You shivered at the spark of friction and loosely wrapped your arms around his head, your fingers combing through his hair as his tongue flicked and swirled over your sensitive nipple while his other hand gave your other breast attention. He squeezed and massaged them just as greedy as his mouth was latched onto your right tit.

Soon, clothes were haphazardly thrown away and you were on your back completely on display for San’s eyes and his eyes only. The coldness of the room was forgotten as your bodies began to burn with lust and yours continued to grow hotter as he kissed along your inner thigh, his slit cat-like predatory gaze never leaving your face.

Your thigh was hooked over his left shoulder and San took his time kissing your soft plush thighs, nipping and biting where he wanted and enjoying the way you squirmed and trembled. But when he came face to face with your pretty pink pussy before him, he felt like he could cum untouched.

His gaze was hot as he stared at your core and you wanted to close your thighs but it was impossible with San’s position. He rested his hand over your lower belly as he licked his lips.

“You’re dripping,” he said lowly, eying your slick pink folds and your little pulsing hole that pushed more arousal out the more he teased you. He brushed his thumb over your clit and your hips bucked.

Fuck, he swore to himself. You were so sensitive.

Biting his lip, he collected your arousal and messily spread it all over your cunt. You could feel the warm sticky slick over your skin and you only grew more needy for his touch. You’ve touched yourself plenty of times when you needed to…but it was different when it was someone else, it was different that it was San.

“Fuck,” he hissed softly, feeling how wet you were and how easily his thumb was able to circle around your sensitive clit, enjoying the reactions he was eliciting from you. “Does that feel good, sweetheart?”

You nodded, shamelessly.

“Have you ever been touched here?” He asked, wondering if you were like the other assassins who deal with their desires by sleeping with another assassin. If you answered yes, he’d be jealous. He’s already jealous at the thought of someone else being as close as he was to you right now.

But your answer was more than he expected.

“N-no. Just me.” You breathily replied, biting back a moan when he pressed a little more as he massaged your clit in slow languid circles.

“Yeah? Just you? All alone?”

“Mhm Hm.” You bit your lip, your hips bucking into his hand for more.

You were driving him crazy. He was imagining you touching yourself in your room. Pretty little hand in your panties playing with yourself underneath the covers and biting back your moans like you were right now.

“You know…there’s something better than just your fingers,” he inched closer, his breath fanning over your pussy, the heat of it making you clench around nothing. He hooked his arms underneath your thighs to hold you down and keep your hips still.

“Your fingers?” You guessed, blinking at him and watching his every move. You found it rather embarrassing that he was this close to your intimate area.

“Definitely,” he chuckled at your response. “But not that, sweetheart.” He kissed the top of your pubic bone. “Something even better.”

Before you could ask what, his pink tongue peeked from his lips and licked a long stripe from your dripping hole and up your clit. You moaned at the feeling, squirming in his hold. Not one second did his eyes leave yours, the intensity of them made you need him more, and when he slowly flicked his tongue around your clit, tasting you, the pleasure went straight to your head.

“A-ah, Sannie,” you gasped but it didn’t end there.

As he had done with your breast, he latched his hot lips onto your core and began tasting you.

San moaned against your pussy at the sweet taste of your cunt, slurping and hungrily licking at your arousal as if he didn’t want to let a single drop go to waste.

It was downright dirty. Pornographic.

He kissed and made out with your core like he had with your lips. You never knew that you could feel such mind-numbing pleasure like this. His tongue was so hot and his lips were so soft, and just when you thought it couldn’t get better, you felt the tip of his finger tease your entrance.

It was almost too much.

You gripped his dark hair and tugged when you felt him slip a digit inside of you. His finger was thicker than yours, longer too. A rush of arousal washed over you when you heard him moan against your pussy when you pulled his hair.

“You’re so wet, fuck. You taste so good.” He briefly left your clit then licked at the pearl before saying. “My finger slipped in so easily, sweetheart. I think you can take another one already. Can’t you?”

“Y-yes. San, please. I-I need more. Please.” You panted breathlessly. Just as you asked, he delivered.

He added another finger into your hole, slowly slipping them in and losing his fucking mind at how tight you were sucking his digits in. He could only imagine how heavenly it must feel when it was his cock instead.

“So fucking tight, sweetheart.” He bit his lip, slowly beginning to pump his fingers in and out of you, his fingers completely covered in your slick. “You like that, darling? Love how my fingers are filling you up?”

You nodded, gripping the mattress below you as your hips moved on their own, and words you’ve never thought you’d say out loud slipped past your lips. “W-want to feel you deeper. M-more please.”

San could only smile at your reaction before he latched his mouth again onto your clit while fingers curled inside of you. You swore at how easily he found that spot you desperately tried to find on your own in the privacy of your room. His fingers were thicker and your chaste walls welcomed them so easily. The way he touched you and pleasured you felt so good, you didn’t care about the lewd squelching sounds your pussy made as he fucked his fingers into you. You could even feel your arousal drip from your hole and onto the mattress.

His eyes were peacefully closed shut as he tasted you. It was as if he was savoring every single bit of you and this kind of attention was making a familiar warmth bloom in your chest.

“S-San, w-wait, I-I’m,” you stuttered out, feeling your core tighten, the familiar sensation of being on that edge far more intense than when you touched yourself alone.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s okay,” he murmured against your core, releasing your overstimulated clit with a soft wet pop. “Cum for me. Be a good girl and cum for me.”

Something about what he said and how he flicked his tongue against your clit as his fingers mercilessly pumped and curled inside of you, sent you over the edge. You gasped as your hips trembled and your walls convulsed around his fingers, your climax making you shake and your mind go blank momentarily.

San hummed deeply, the vibration of the sound along with how he slowly lapped your release and moved his lips as he did, made some part of your brain melt.

He couldn’t get enough and he quite literally was acting as if this was his last meal on earth.

“S-Sannie, wait—ah!” He prolonged your organs with his lazy kisses and languid kitten licks.

Once he had gotten enough (though he doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough), he parted from your lower lips to look at you through hooded eyes full of hunger and lust. It made your heart race.

With his eyes locked on yours, he thought his two fingers that had been inside of your heat to his lips and licked your essence off of it, a sudden heat passing through your body at the visual.

“You taste like heaven, sweetheart.” He moaned deeply, taking his time to taste you on his fingers.

“H-how about you?” You asked, your voice breathy and higher than its usual tone.

He caressed your thighs, lovingly as you came down from your high. “What about me sweetheart?”

Your hands caressed his toned stomach, tracing the lines of his abs and stopping before the waistband of his briefs.

“Do I get to taste you?”

San’s cock throbbed at your question that sounded so innocent from your lips. He wants to make this all about you but you were making it difficult for him to not be selfish and focus on making you feel good.

Still lightheaded from your orgasm, you sat up and crawled to San, the man before you gulping at the visual of you on your knees and seeing the beautiful shape of your back, it was like looking at a cat. You knelt by him, meeting his height before placing your hands on his shoulders and moving him to sit on the mattress with his back against the wall.

“I want to taste you, Sannie.” You purred, sitting a top of your folded legs, his own legs spread to make room for you.

He raised a brow watching you, amused at your actions. Even like this, he looked so attractive.

San smiled softly at you and caressed your cheek as you looked at him with round wide eyes. “Are you sure, sweetheart?”

You nodded, experimentally teasing the imprint of his length in his briefs. His breath hitched at the mere touch of your fingertips, his excitement making his thighs tense.

“Teach me how?” You looked at him through your lashes and the sweet determined look you had turned him on even more.

You were rather shy that you asked him to show you but little did you know, that just sent his mind places. Was he really your first?

Curiously, you palmed his length making a shaky breath leave him. “Did that feel good Sannie?”

“F-fuck… y-yes. It felt good sweetheart.”

“Can I take it off?” You tugged at the waistband lightly and he nodded eagerly.

You pulled down his boxers and once the garment was down past his hips, his cock sprung free from its confines. It slapped against his hard abdomen and you felt your mouth water at the sight.

Not knowing what it’d do to him, you slowly wrapped your hand around his length to gauge his size and San hissed at the warmth of your soft palm. He was hot and stiff, and the pink head was glistening with a slick liquid. With your other hand, your fingertips spread his precum all over the bulbous round tip.

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re torturing me.” He groaned the more you massaged this sensitive tip.

You felt your core tingle at the sight of his furrowed brows and his parted lips as you touched him. You wanted to make him feel good too.

“What do you want me to do, Sannie?” Your voice was so sweet.

“F-fuck, baby, spit on it a-and then wrap your pretty hand around me, okay?” His hand gently cupped the back of your neck.

A little hesitant but doing as he said, you spat on his cock, and the dirty sound and act of it made his cock twitch. You were guessing that you should spread it around and when he hummed, it told you, you were doing something right.

“Such a good girl, sweetheart.” He cooed. “Now wrap your hand around me. Fuuuck. Just like that.”

Feeling excited with all the praise he was giving, you kissed his neck slowly, doing as he did to you earlier.

“M-move your hand up and down, sweetheart.”

“O-okay.”

Your saliva mixed with his precum gave lubrication for you to easily glide your hand up and down his shaft.

“That’s it, baby. That feels so good. Fuck.” He moaned. “Come here, let me kiss you.”

You do as he says and kiss with his, moving your lips with his, and your core clenched when you could taste a sweet yet slightly salty flavor on your lips. Was that you? The fact you were tasting yourself on his lips turned you on.

The two of you stayed like that; making out while your hand pumped his cock, feeling his girth and his length. You couldn’t help but wonder how he’d feel inside of you but you wanted to taste him first like you said.

You pulled away from his lips and they pouted at the loss of them but he couldn’t stay disappointed for long, not when your tongue just did a kitten lick on his sensitive tip.

“Fuck, sweetheart, are you really sure?” He moaned, not wanting to force you. He was happy enough that you had been jerking him off. You really didn’t have to return the favor if you didn’t want to.

“Mhm.” You hummed, following your instincts and taking his leaking tip in your mouth, while your hand continued to move up and down his shaft.

His taste made your head spin and your clit throb. You liked the taste of him, it was a little salty but it was just him.

“Shit-,” he threw his head back, his other hand gripping the mattress as you licked and suckled at his tip. “That feels so good. Fuck. Don’t stop. Such a good girl using your pretty mouth on me. Do I taste good?”

You hummed so cutely as a yes. God, he’d do anything for you. How were you this cute?

“Do you think you can take more of my cock in your mouth? You think you can take it?”

His dirty talk made you even wetter and you were sure that you were dripping at this point.

Could you take it? There was only one way to find out.

Breathing through your nose and flattening out your tongue, you slipped his cock deeper almost choking when the hot tip touched the back of your throat but you against your gag reflex and tried to mimic what your hand had been doing. You slowly moved your head up and down, bobbing rhythmically on his cock.

San moaned breathily. This was your first time taking cock in your mouth? “You’re a fucking natural, baby. Fuck. That feels good. You look so pretty like this. Could cum just watching you.”

What you couldn’t take in your mouth, you made up for with your hand, earning more moans from San. You liked this. You liked making him feel good. You liked having his cock inside your mouth, you wanted to taste more than his cock.

You wanted more.

“Fuck,” he swore when he felt you bravely take a little deeper, feeling the way the start of your throat constricted at the intrusion of his cock. “Sweetheart, if you keep doing that—,”

You bobbed your head faster, not caring that you were making such lewd slurping and sucking sounds. He had done the same for you and at that moment you understood why he had enjoyed tasting you.

San’s thighs began to clench and his core tightened further. His knuckles were turning white at how hard he was gripping the mattress in one hand while the other grabbed your ass, making you yelp and take more of him deeper in your throat, which pushed him over the edge.

There was a cute surprised squeak that came from you which was the cherry on top of him spilling his load inside your mouth. Your eyes widened as you felt his hot release go down your throat and they fluttered close as you savored the taste of him.

San was losing it when he felt your throat move as you swallowed his cum. He didn’t know you were going to do that. What’s making his head spin further and making his hazy orgasmic bliss last longer was how you kept him inside your mouth, just the tip, and licking the slit of his cock head.

You pulled away, his cock falling on his stomach, still hard and you sat so cutely in between his legs as he panting and coming down from his high.

You wiped the edge of your mouth and licked what was left of him on your lips.

“Sannie tastes good.”

You didn’t know you had said that out loud in such a soft manner that made San swoon.

San like a cat, pounced on you.

He was once again all over you. Your back was against the mattress as he found his place between your thighs. You eyed his cock, still hard and glistening from when it had been in your mouth. Your walls clenched when San wrapped his own hand around his pretty cock and pressed the head against your clit making you whimper.

San rubbed the tip of his cock through your slit, spreading your slick and coating himself with it. You were so drenched that it was driving him crazy, he wanted to bury his cock deep inside you so bad but when his eyes met the long scar smiling from one hip bone to the other. He wanted to take his time. For you.

“Y/N,” he said softly, holding your hips with care. Even though you told him that he couldn’t break what was broken, he wouldn’t want to think of breaking you. In fact, he wanted to make you feel full, whole, and complete. He wanted to care for you in a way you deserved. “Am I your first?”

The sudden question threw you off. It made you realize that he was going to be your first. Concepts like those shouldn’t matter to you especially since you didn’t have the time to think of such a thing.

“Y-yes…” you admitted, relaxing a little. “You’re the first person to ever kiss me too. I want you to be my first, Sannie.” Your heart was aching while your body burned for him. “And if this is our last night alive, I wouldn’t have imagined anyone else being my first and my last. I’m glad…it’s you.”

San didn’t know if this was the right time to say the three words he’d been dying to say to you for so long. “For me…” he slowly moved his hips, rubbing his length between your slick folds, making your face relax into that flushed blissful expression.

“It’s always been you.”

You didn’t have time to think or question what that meant. Not when the tip of his cock teased at your entrance, just pressing against it.

Slowly, he let the head pop inside your cunt, both of you gasping. The girth of his cock stretched you out more than you could ever with your two fingers and there was a slight sting as he entered, making you bite your lip and whimper.

But he was attentive.

San intertwined his fingers with yours while his other hand held your hip still as he slowly, little by little, inch by inch, pushed his cock deeper into your tight wet heat. The velvety warmth of your walls made his head spin and the way they hugged his cock was heaven. The carnal part inside of him wanted nothing more than to thrust deeply into you and have you falling apart for him.

“S-Sannie, m-more.”

He growled lowly. Despite this being your first time, the wetness of your heat made his cock slip in so easily. Both of you watched as his cock split your lower lips apart and how his length slowly disappeared into you. You were bewildered that San was inside of you. You never knew just how badly you wanted to be close to him until tonight.

The circumstances were dire, it was hopeless but you had him.

“I want to feel more.” You squeezed his hand as he pushed his hips a little further. “Y-you’re so thick.”

San must be dreaming.

You brought your free hand over your mouth as the sensation of being filled up was such a pleasure you’ve never felt before. It was too much and not enough at the same time.

“You’re taking me so well, sweetheart. You’re doing so well.”

He cooed and praised you for each inch you took of him and there was something about the heat of him inside you, spreading apart your chaste walls that made your thighs shiver as he bottomed out.

San let out a long exhale, cursing as he felt his whole length be snuggly embraced by your velvety warm walls. He could even feel your arousal coat him and drip out of your entrance. He was ascending. He was the closest he could ever get to the person he’s only ever seen as the love of his life.

You looked so beautiful before him. How could you be so bashful yet exuding such allure? Your hand squeezed his as you adjusted to his cock inside of you, he could even feel the way your walls squeeze and contracted as you did. Fuck. He was your first. The first man to ever have the privilege to be this close to you, to feel you, and to see you in a state so vulnerable that you hid from everyone.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” San asked, massaging your hips to help you relax. You were squeezing him so tight. “Does it hurt?”

His sweet voice and the care in them made your heart crack. What did you do to deserve someone like Choi San?

“N-not really. It’s just…new.” You whimpered when the head of his cock that was in your mouth earlier was snug against your cervix. “I-I can feel you.”

That made San’s head spin. “Y-yeah?”

“Mhm.” You nodded, holding his hand and looking into his eyes. “I…feel…you.”

Each word held so much weight and emotion that San couldn’t stop himself from leaning down and crashing his lips on yours. He could feel you too and he loved the feeling of you. He drew his hips back just a little, slowly giving you shallow thrusts to get you used to him. You gasped at the sensation of his cock gliding and scraping your walls, the friction so sinfully and mind-numbingly good.

San continued to kiss you, his tongue delving into your warm wet mouth, the two of you kissing messily as his cock eased its way out of your walls leaving only the tip in. You squirmed. The first taste of the motion of his length inside you sparked a rush that felt addicting and when he easily slid back into you again, it confirmed that growing addiction.

“S-Sannie!” You cried out, arms wrapping around him, holding onto him as he stroked your walls deeply.

“F-fuck, Y/N, you feel so good.” He groaned, burying his face into your neck, kissing the spots he hadn’t marked with love bites.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, your lust mixing with greed as you needed more of the feeling that San was giving you. You’ve never felt so much in your time of being alive. It was new. It was something you never had before.

The deep passionate rolls of hips with every intention to make you feel pleasure, the hot kisses on your neck, the sweet nothings he’d whisper, and the gentle caresses on your body. It made you dizzy, you’ve never lost yourself in something so…euphoric.

As San continued to glide his cock in and out of your tight heat, with his forehead against your chest, his eyes met that scar on below your belly once more, his heart aching. Why did they take that away from you? It was so cruel of them.

His emotions were all mixed up. You two might not live to see another day after this night and the two of you acting on your emotions and passions that had been suppressed for so long were both overwhelming. Plus the truth of what happened to you during your Academy days hurt him.

All he knew was he wanted to you to feel all of him. To make you feel his love and desire for you with every touch, every kiss, and every strong drive of his hips.

The passion and the way you two had been showing it to one another became more carnal as the lust muddled both your brains with nothing but unspoken love and the need to just fuck.

San’s hips picked up their pace. He thrusted and drove into you so deeply, each scrape and glide of his length inside you made his fat cock head kiss your cervix and pound into that one spot that sent you shivering and moaning.

San liked those sounds of yours. Accompanied by the lewd wet squelching and the sound of skin slapping against skin, it was driving him crazy.

“You feel that, sweetheart?” He placed his palm just below where your scar was, where he was fucking you. “That’s me.”

“C-can feel you, Sannie! Oh god,” you cried out, nails digging into his back. You could feel him waking up every fiber of your being with pleasure. “Want to feel more of you. D-don’t stop, please. Want you. I want you.” You were rambling mindlessly too lost in the pleasure, too lost in the heat of his thick cock filling you up.

“I won’t stop, baby. Can’t stop. I need you so bad. You need me to right? Fuck,” he felt you squeeze him tighter. “I’ll make you feel good, Y/N.” He moved his palm lower to find your sensitive pearl all puffy and sticky with your arousal.

Your back arched into him as he massaged your clit.

“You look so beautiful,” he whispered, fucking you til you both get your fill. Even if you both came now, he doesn’t think he’ll have enough of you. He wanted to fuck you so passionately. He wanted to drink what he could of you as this might just be your last night together. “Are you close, sweetheart?”

“Y-yes!” You croaked out, panting with each thrust of his cock. “W-wanna cum, Sannie. P-please.”

“Don’t worry, pretty. I’ll make you cum. I’ll fucking make you cum.” He growled, his hips picking up their pace. Your mouth fell open. The new pace had his cock hitting your g-spot at such a rapid pace you couldn’t think at all. All you knew was you wanted him to keep fucking you.

“H-harder. Need to feel you deeper.” You whined, hugging him close and your words only made the man before you go feral.

The snap of his hips shook your whole body with pleasure that only crescendoed your bliss further into euphoria. That tight knot within your tummy was reaching its limit. With how San was moaning and groaning against your neck, and how his fingers on your clit glided so easily with your slick was sending you over the edge.

You chanted his name over and over so breathlessly, your nails digging deeper into San’s back.

Snap!

Your mouth fell open in a silent scream as your walls clamped down around San, your thighs and hips convulsing uncontrollably as pleasure swooped through your body. You couldn’t help the way your nails clawed down his back which made the man before you moan brokenly as his hips stilled and glued against you.

Heat began to fill your walls and your womb as you came hard. San’s thigh muscles were taut as he emptied what he could into you. It was driving him crazy. Your walls were sucking him in a way where his cum just kept flowing til he had nothing more to give you.

“S-Sa—,” you didn’t have to finish calling out for him before he leaned forward to capture your lips. The kiss was slow and lingering…it was gentle and deep.

“I’ve got you,” he said briefly leaving the kiss to take a moment to straighten his back to look at you before him.

You were glowing. Your beautiful skin was covered with a thin sheen of sweat that made you glisten beneath the moonlight and your face was flushed. Your eyes looked up at him hazily, blinking prettily as you were still in your high. His eyes then drifted to where the two of you were still connected. Your puffy lips were split around his cock and you couldn’t help but look down there too.

Slowly, he slid himself out inch by inch. You whimpered at the loss of fullness but when you saw the pink cock head slip out and his length slam against his abdomen coated in your slick and pearly white release? Your walls clenched around nothing. With his thumb, he pulled one of your lower lips gently to get a good look at your pink pussy and his eyes darkened once more when he saw his cum leak out your pulsing hole.

San spread his release all over your pussy, his cat-like eyes curious and staring deeply at where he ‘marked’ you in his way.

“M-more.”

Did he imagine that?

“S-Sannie,” you spread your lips apart for him, making him swallow the lump in his throat. His eyes went to your face, his head spinning when you looked at him with such want and need. Could you look at him like that forever? “M-more. Need to feel you more.”

With San….you never had to ask him twice.

With the same passion and desire as he did earlier if not more, he was on you again. This time the two of you didn’t care about being gentle. You two were desperate for one another. Utterly desperate.

Then you found yourself locked against San with his arm around your waist, your back pressing against his body as he fucked deeply into you without thought. Your bodies were sticky as your shared heat kept you both hot, the cold forgotten as he pounded into you.

You moaned over and over for him, the sound a beautiful melody to his ears.

“I-I don’t think I can stop.” He rasped against your ear, slamming his pelvis against your ass filling your cunt up to the brim with his cock. “I don’t want to stop,” San growled while you cried as he slammed particularly deep, the new position making him reach that spongy spot inside you so fucking easily.

He’s gonna make love to you til you both are absolutely spent. Til he was empty and til you fell apart and had enough of him.

In that little walled-off prison you two were in, the two of you indulged in ways you both could never have during your time in the Academy. Boundaries they programmed into you were broken, lines were crossed and two beating hearts were fully awakened…and for the first time, truly, alive.

Then…when it was done…when that night passed and dawn broke. Those two hearts remained in each other’s arms, embracing one another as they feared for what the morrow would bring.

Not knowing that San would have to keep the promise he kept you.

“You deserve more than this life. You should be able to live freely and to love freely. Leave all this behind. Leave me behind.”

But he wasn’t going to leave you behind.

He could never.

-- feel free to scream in my askbox!

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[myrleius]

beneath the surface — sevika

councilor sevika x spy fem!reader│word count: 1.9k

synopsis: You were supposed to be Sevika’s downfall, a spy wrapped in silk and sweet lies. But falling for her? Yeah… that wasn’t part of the plan.

cw/tags: female x female, enemies to kinda lovers (?), spicy but no smut, suggestive themes, tried to make the tension thick but I don’t think it’s enough to cut it with a knife

The mansion in Piltover was far too quiet.

Heavy drapes swallowed the city’s distant hum, leaving only the measured tick of a gilded clock and the occasional creak of shifting wood. Even the air felt stagnant, thick with the scent of polished mahogany and expensive cigars—luxuries that didn’t belong to you, nor to the woman who had been forced to accept them. A hollow kind of wealth, wrapping its occupants in golden shackles.

You lay in the massive bed, eyes closed but far from asleep. The silk sheets felt cool against your skin, but comfort wasn’t the issue. It was your mind that refused to settle. 

It wasn’t the first time this had happened. You had always been patient, used to playing the long game, but tonight wasn’t about the mission. It hadn’t been for a while now.

You weren't waiting for Sevika to return because you had to, you were waiting because you wanted to. To know if she was safe, if she was still alive, if she’d still return to you.

The realization should have unnerved you. After all, your purpose had been clear from the start. You were a tool—handpicked, carefully placed in Sevika’s life under the guise of a gift. A distraction. A temptation.

The councilors had never trusted her, not fully. To them, she was a filthy Zaunite who had clawed her way too close to power, a threat that needed to be eliminated. And so, they sent you. A spy wrapped in silk and charm, meant to dig into her secrets, to expose the cracks they were certain lay beneath her armor. To bring her down before she could rise any higher.

It wasn’t a new role for you. The game was familiar, its rules well-worn, the steps rehearsed.

Push, pull, bait, retreat, and repeat.

You’d lean close, let your touch linger just a little too long, whispered sweet nothings that had unraveled lesser men and women. 

But Sevika wasn’t an easy target. She never fell for the traps, never let herself be anything more than indifferent. A scoff here, a deadpan rejection there.

“If you’re done wasting your time, the door’s over there.”

“You’re not my type.”

“Get off me.”

And yet, her coldness never frustrated you. Truthfully, it intrigued you. The challenge was intoxicating, the pushback a delightful burn under your skin.

Then came the gala.

You had expected the sneers, the hushed whispers from Piltover’s elite. Expected the way they looked at you, painting you as a gold-digging harlot, a pretty thing draped over Sevika’s arm—even your own employers weren’t subtle about it. But you were ready to play along, to smile through the veiled insults like you always did.

Until Sevika spoke.

Not in your defense. Not in some grand display of defiance. Just a single, blunt remark.

“At least she has the guts to do her actual job.”

Simple. Unembellished. And somehow, it rattled you more than any flattering remark ever had.

After that, something shifted. 

You started noticing things you had once overlooked—the exhaustion lining Sevika’s face when she returned late at night, the tension in her shoulders, the absentminded way she rubbed at her mechanical arm. The way her gaze lingered, a faint smile tugging at her lips when she spotted the small doodles on the metal, no doubt left by Undercity children. 

She wasn’t just some power-hungry brute clawing her way up. She worked in the shadows, not for personal gain, but for Zaun.

And before you knew it, you had started to see her as something more.

It showed in the smallest of gestures. Setting a glass of whiskey by her usual spot before she even realized she was thirsty. Picking up a tool she had tossed aside, setting it back within reach. Lowering your voice just slightly when you caught her rubbing her temples, easing the tension without calling attention to it.

Nothing was spoken of it, but you knew Sevika noticed.

And in return, she tested you.

One night, she "misplaced" a document—something critical enough to cost her everything in the council. You scoffed at the drastic measure, but a smile tugged at your lips. You saw it for what it was: a deliberate trap, a silent challenge to test your loyalties. And you hadn’t taken the bait. The moment your eyes skimmed the header, you stopped reading. You hadn’t even considered it.

It had been a turning point.

Over the next few months, Sevika’s distance became less absolute. She still met your advances with unwavering indifference, still dismissed your flirtations without a second thought—but she no longer pushed you away completely.

The door to her room, once always locked, now gave way with an easy turn of the knob. When you settled beside her, she adjusted—just enough to make space, though never enough to acknowledge it. And every now and then, she was the one seeking you out. A casual, offhand “You seen my lighter?” as if you’d always been part of her routine.

Then, a distant door creaked open, breaking your train of thought. Heavy footfalls followed, signalling Sevika’s usual return.

You remained still, listening. The door swung open, then clicked shut with careful intent. Back then, she would’ve slammed it just to piss you off when she caught you sneaking into her room. Now, she lets you stay.

The bed dipped as she sat on the edge, the quiet whir of her metal arm filling the space as she flexed its joints. 

With that, the tension you hadn’t realized you were holding eased. She was back. Safe. The thought settled over you, and sleep finally began to tug at your senses.

Until her voice cut through the dark.

“I know you’re awake.”

Her words were gruff, spoken between the faint sound of her adjusting her prosthetic.

You huffed a quiet laugh, letting your eyes flutter open. Turning onto your side, you propped your head up with one hand, lips curving into a lazy smirk. The moonlight gleamed off the silver edges of her arm, but your attention lingered elsewhere—the sharp lines of her face, the dip of her collarbone, the steady rise and fall of her chest.

“Aww, you caught me. What gave it away?” you drawled, your gaze dragging over her like a slow caress. You didn’t even bother hiding the appreciation in your eyes, not when she was sitting there looking like that.

But Sevika barely spared you a glance. “You weren’t starfished across the bed, and the blankets aren’t on the floor.”

Your smirk faltered for just a second. “I do not sleep like that!” you scoffed.

Sevika arched a brow. “And you just know how you sleep?”

“And you do?” you shot back, leaning in slightly. “Looks like someone’s been watching me.”

Sevika snorted. “I can’t exactly miss it when you kick me in your sleep.”

That one got you, and you gasped in mock offense. “Lies and slander!”

“Uh-huh. Go to sleep.”

But you weren’t done yet. Shifting just enough, you let the silk of your nightwear slip off one shoulder, baring warm skin to the cool air. You stretched, slow and deliberate, letting your voice take on a more sultry lilt.

“But I was hoping you’d join me,” you murmured, “and tire me out properly.”

Sevika didn’t even look up. “Goodnight.”

You pouted. “That’s not a no.”

Sevika’s only response was an unimpressed grunt as she continued working on her arm.

You expected as much. Always so damn difficult and serious. It was amusing, endearing even.

For once, you didn’t push further. 

The air was easy, thick with a silence that didn’t need to be filled. Sevika’s rough presence had a way of soothing things—your thoughts, your breathing, the restless energy you carried everywhere else. Lately, you found yourself craving these moments the most. The ones where neither of you had to say anything, where the world felt far away, and all that was left was this quiet, steady thing between you.

In moments like this, it was easy to forget the game you were playing, the lines you were meant to toe. Easy to pretend she was yours to keep.

And then she shattered it.

“You’re slipping,” Sevika murmured, voice deceptively casual.

Something in your chest tightened, a sharp instinct telling you to fix your mask. You have always been careful. Always calculating. But lately… you’d been reckless.

“Am I?”

Sevika’s gaze flickered toward you, sharp and assessing. But beneath the scrutiny, there was something else.

“Nobody stood in my way today.” A pause. “You didn’t report my whereabouts.”

Ah. So that’s what this was about.

“Whoops,” you said smoothly, stretching again before rolling onto your stomach, hugging a pillow beneath you. “Must’ve slipped my mind. Long week.”

Sevika didn’t buy it. Of course she didn’t. The woman was too perceptive for that.

“You haven’t been doin’ your job for four months.” Her tone was flat, but there was an edge to it, something closer to certainty than suspicion. “No reports. No sudden bullshit. The council used to be up my ass every time I made a move, but now? Nothin’.”

Silence stretched between you two. Heavy, charged. You felt yourself standing at the edge of something—a line you’d already crossed but still refused to acknowledge.

Your fingers curled slightly against the pillow. Then, tilting your head, you offered a slow, measured shrug. “What, I can’t let them sweat a little? It’s fun watching them panic.” You glanced away, busying yourself with the ceiling. “Plus they were getting annoying.”

At the corner of your eye, you caught the slight narrowing of Sevika’s gaze. Her stare felt different tonight. Heavier. It made your skin prickle.

A beat.

Then—

“Figures.”

Another pause. Then, quieter, like she hadn’t meant to say it at all.

“Thanks.”

You almost missed it, but you didn’t. And god, if it didn’t send your heart into a shameless, fluttering mess.

Warmth bloomed in your chest, creeping up your neck—a dangerous, traitorous thing you weren’t ready to name.

You shifted, biting back a smile, desperate to smother the feeling before it showed. “You could thank me in a different way, you know,” you teased, voice light, playful, and maybe just a little too hopeful.

You expected the usual reaction. The exasperation. The dismissal.

But this time, Sevika moved. 

The mattress gave beneath you, and before you could process it, something cold pressed around your shoulder. Her metallic hand pushed and your world tilted—your back meeting the sheets, trapping you beneath her.

Then, heat.

A rough palm slid up your thigh, quick and purposeful, parting your legs like she owned the space between them. Your breath hitched, but before you could find your voice, her fingers were already moving—skimming higher, tracing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, never quite reaching where you needed her.

Sevika loomed over you, broad shoulders casting shadows in the dim light, her gaze dragging over your face with unhurried interest.

Her lips quirked upward, amused. “That what you want?”

You swallowed, pulse jumping. “Just an idea,” you murmured, feigning confidence.

Sevika hummed, low and indulgent. “Mm. And what exactly are you hoping for?”

“Use your imagination.”

She laughed. “I don’t think you’d survive my imagination.”

“Try me,” you said, too quick, too desperate. The words tumbled out like a plea instead of a challenge.

Sevika grinned. That was all the invitation she needed.

She leaned in, her breath teasing against your mouth. “Sure.”

Barely a whisper. Barely a touch. Just the ghost of her lips over yours—enough to set you alight, to make you chase after something she hadn’t even given yet. Anticipation coiled hot and heavy in your stomach, unbearable and unrelenting.

Holy shi—

Yeah. You’re definitely betraying those councilors.

[scariusaquarius]

rehab. 44.

Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Winter Soldier! Fem! Reader

Summary: While on a mission to find any more possible super soldiers that were a part of the Winter Soldier program, Steve and Bucky make a discovery in an abandoned HYDRA base that was cleared out a few years prior to their mission. They discover the Reader, a long-forgotten soldier that was still asleep within a functioning cryostasis pod; still awaiting orders. While Bucky isn't happy about it, he is put up to the challenge of helping to rehabilitate the soldier in Wakanda where she may be able to become a person again.

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A/n: I recently redid my hair and it made me feel so good and gave me a good mental health boost that i've been needing for months, and it's also kinda boosted my motivation to write :D I hope you guys enjoyed that I included the X-Men! X-Men is one of my favorite franchises (even though Fox loves to royally fuck up the continuity). So, the timeline that I'm doing is 'First Class/Logan Elements' and yes, everyone is still be a bit young. I hope that makes sense haha also, i hope you guys noticed the really small detail with the candle ;) that's all i'm saying mwuahahah

Also, if you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee! If you would prefer to read Rehab on Archive, you may do so right HERE!

This is an au where Bucky joined the avengers but still rehabilitated in Wakanda (sometime before Infinity War [canon divergent cause NOPE]). I am NOT fluent in Russian, so I did use google translate cause I couldn't find a good translator that I trusted. If anything is wrong, PLEASE let me know!! Also, I tried to list as many warnings as possible so you know what the story will contain as chapters are posted. Stay safe!

NOTE: I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR ANY OF MY WORKS TO BE FED INTO AI FOR BOTS, I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORKS TO BE TRANSLATED, REPOSTED, REWORKED, ETC, IN ANY WAY, SHAPE, OR FORM!!!

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Genre: Slowburn, Enemies to Lovers/Friends to Lovers, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Humor, Drama, Dark Content Rated: Explicit Warning: Angst, Dark Content: Graphic Depictions of Sexual Assault, Blood and Gore, Mentions of Manipulation, Kidnapping, Canon-Typical Violence, Body Horror, Nonconsensual Body Modification/Scarring, Emotional and Physical Abuse, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts/Ideation, Graphic Depictions of Human Remains, Mentions of Sexual Coercion/Manipulation, Death, Misuse of Drugs/Forced Drugging, Self-Harm (Graphic Depictions and Mentions), Nightmares

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Author: ScariusAquarius

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rehab masterlist. / rehab masterlist 2. chapter 42 / chapter 43

The atmosphere in Charles Xavier's office had become tense and quiet. From outside the office, Bucky could hear the children talking amongst themselves, the sounds of what seemed to be teachers talking to each other about lesson plans and potential events for the students, and the sounds of powers being used.

The environment on the outside was completely mundane; ignorant to the turmoil within the office, and Bucky clenched his fist tightly. The plates in his arm whirred and shfited, Logan glancing at him with an almost questioning look as he watched Bucky's metal arm adjust itself, and Logan glanced back at Charles as the Professor turned around within his seat.

"Alright, so what do you wanna do? You just wanna let her sit there and magically deprogram herself?"

Hank shook his head, adjusting his glasses.

"It doesn't work like that, unfortunately. With the programming being encoded into her DNA itself, taking it out is going to be a bit like surgery."

Charles sighed and stated.

"This whole process must be done carefully and precisely. No brute force, no magical or psychic overrides, and no sudden shifts in reality that (Y/n) will not be able to comprehend or her body to respond to. We will need someone to reach her...and someone extract her from HYDRA."

Tony looked up and asked, raising his brow as he spoke.

"How do you expect us to extract her when she's sitting somewhere that the Avengers can't touch? If we try to force our way in, we might as well just storm the White House. Hell, Strange can't even get in. From what the wizard says, the HYDRA base that she's being kept in has magic VPN's that keep him from being able to go in."

Strange glared at Tony when he called him a wizard, and he shook his head before further explaining.

"While Lukas Meiers is a simple human, he is a man of power. With power comes connections, and whoever he had magically reinforce his home knew what they were doing. Astral projection didn't work, and my astral body was almost torn apart trying to get through without tripping the alarm system. Moreover, the magical reinforcements that were placed on (Y/n) were somehow reversed the second she stepped into the base, most likely from the dormant failsafe that was finally activated when Lukas and Nagel worked on her."

Hank looked fascinated, asking.

"Astral projection? How intriguing..."

Logan rolled his eyes before shaking his head, looking at Charles again.

"Alright, Charles, who the hell are we gonna send in?"

Charles hummed in thought before he finally theorized.

"I believe that Kurt might be our best option. With how instantaneous his gift is, Kurt would be able to get in and out quick enough that the physical and magical security would not be able to detect him in time."

Peter looked confused on the name 'Kurt' and he scratched his head a bit before asking.

"Professor, who is Kurt?"

Charles' face became gentle and fond as he gazed at Peter, regarding the young man with an expression that a father would their child, and he stated.

"Kurt Wagner. Some, however, may know him as Nightcrawler."

Peter's eyes practically became stars as he asked.

"Wait, you mean the blue guy who can teleport and has a tail?"

Charles couldn't help but to chuckle at Peter's enthusiasm, confirming with a fondness in his voice that wasn't there before.

"The very one. Kurt has a very unique gift. His relationship with the space around him is almost unprecedented. His teleportation bypasses physical dimensions that most sensors, whether technological or mystical, can't anticipate. It's not just his speed, but the unpredictability that makes Kurt perfect for this mission. By the time he would have been detected, him and (Y/n) would already be gone."

Peter was in awe, and Bucky couldn't help but to comment.

"I thought Stark's stealth shit was impressive...guess Kurt's got the jump on you."

Tony glared at Bucky, pointing a finger at him.

"Don't make me put a sprinkler in that arm of yours."

Bucky just rolled his eyes, and Logan snorted. Tony huffed before shrugging.

"So, good old-fashioned magic. That's cool. Yeah, no, that's perfect, except the fact that Lukas' mansion is literally warded against that."

Strange sighed, becoming fed-up with Tony as he stated firmly.

"It’s not magic. It’s biology."

Hank perked up again, his eyes lighting up as he explained.

"It’s true. I’ve studied Kurt’s physiology extensively. He really is such a fascinating case of mutant biology. His abilities are tied to an innate mutation—he traverses through a separate dimension momentarily. The dimension itself is largely untraceable to conventional instruments, which is likely why it wouldn’t trigger magical tripwires or wards."

Peter whispered under his breath, a hand to his chin.

"So he’s like a ninja…but fuzzier."

"Fuzzier and holier,"

Logan interrupted, giving Peter a thoughtful look.

"Kurt’s a good man. You’re not gonna find anyone more loyal or willing to risk himself for someone else. Let alone the fact the kid is probably the only one who can."

Bucky stated protectively, Logan glancing at him with a small frown.

"That's great, but I can't just take your word alone. I want to meet him."

Before Logan could open his mouth, Charles nodded.

"Of course. If you would like, I can have Kurt come right now...or, if you'd like to meet with him privately, I can advise everyone to leave...perhaps Hank could take Tony and Peter to his lab?"

Hank's excitement was poorly hidden, and he looked at Bucky, whispering.

"Please?"

"I ain't going nowhere, bub, so don't even bother asking."

Logan was gruff, and Bucky gave the man an expressionless expression. It was obvious that Logan didn't trust Bucky, and Bucky briefly wondered if Logan was aware of his past. Charles hummed thoughtfully before he wheeled away from the window, asking gently.

"Sergeant, would you take a walk with me?"

Bucky became uncomfortable, and Logan stepped forward. Charles kept a hand up, glancing at Logan.

"It's alright, Logan. Hank, I'd like for you to take Tony and Peter to your lab. Strange, I trust you to make your own decision whether to follow or not...but I think you would take great interest in the Mysticism class that we teach here at the Institute."

Strange's lips curled up slightly as he adjusted his cloak and the sleeves on his arm.

"I'll consider it, though I need to warn you: I'm a difficult student."

Charles chuckled, winking slightly.

"So was Logan. You'll find the class on the second floor."

Tony sighed and stood, gesturing to Peter as Hank smiled enthusiastically.

"Come on, Peter, maybe Best has a DNA printer or something similar."

Peter's excitement was poorly contained, asking.

"Do you think he'd let me use it? Oh, man, this is so cool!"

Hank was proud, stating with a wink.

"I assure you, neither of you will be disappointed. Right this way."

As everyone filed out, Logan hung back for a moment, thinking to himself before he began to subtly follow Bucky and Charles as the two began to traverse down the hallway.

Bucky was slightly uncomfortable, but his eyes were darting around the environment, watching the kids and taking in the mundane living that was around him.

Charles was quiet, giving Bucky a moment to become comfortable, and he spoke after a pregnant pause, stating.

"I would like to reassure you, James, that I did not ask you to walk with me to interrogate you. Quite the opposite. If you would allow me, I would like to understand you without jeopardizing your privacy."

Bucky didn't know how to respond. He wasn't really used to people wanting to understand him just to do so, but Charles was different. While Charles wasn't exactly like him, he was still a super human; someone that was considered an outsider. Well, not the way Bucky was, but Bucky guessed it was still the same thing.

"You can try, but I don't know if you'll get very far."

Charles chuckled before stating.

"Well, if you're anything like Logan, I think I can manage."

Bucky frowned, glancing down at Charles as the man guided him around the institute.

"What do you mean?"

Charles hummed, shaking his head slightly.

"You and Logan are cut from very similar cloths. If there is any man that can understand you better than you, yourself, it is Logan. He is very rough around the edges, but he is still battling with the ghosts that still haunt him as well. Logan also knows the same loss that you do...it's why he's...hm, how do I put this...angry."

Charles then hummed, giving Bucky an inquisitive look.

"That's why he's finding it hard to be trustful. He's not only been you, but in the very same position. Logan knows loss and pain and what it is like to lose your autonomy, and this situation hits close enough to home that it has Logan's mind in shambles."

Bucky was quiet for a moment, confused, and he asked as he looked at Charles.

"Why are you telling me this?"

The two men paused, and Charles sighed. However, it wasn't a sigh of annoyance, but rather a sigh of understanding, and the man gave Bucky a gentle look.

"Because you need to know that you're not alone. You've spent a very long time being a weapon, and being seen as one. A threat, nuisance, anything that human's can say to make themselves comfortable in the presence of something they cannot understand. Perhaps, even a mistake to fix, or a problem to contain. But I see a man who was broken and is still standing."

Bucky's face was tense, but the man looked small; almost like a child as he stared into Charles' eyes, and Bucky swallowed thickly when Charles continued.

"And I think that man is worth knowing. Worth trusting. I also know what it’s like to believe that no one could possibly understand what you’ve been through. And yet... here you are. And here we are."

Bucky was moved by Charles' words, but he retreated slightly, stating to Charles.

"You know, you're real smooth for a guy in a wheelchair."

Charles laughed, a genuine sound that was light and warm that made Bucky's worry melt just the slightest.

"Well, it's a lot harder to walk away from me mid-conversation."

Bucky couldn't help but to chuckle, shoving his hands into his pockets, and there was a moment of silence before Bucky revealed quietly.

"I can't get her eyes out of my head...she was...it was like she was dead; just a machine that was trained to kill and obey, and I couldn't reach (Y/n). I know she's in there somewhere, but even if we save her and get her away from HYDRA...even if we destroy the failsafe...I don't know if she'll come back from this."

From behind a wall and out of sight, Logan was leaning against it with his arms crossed. His expression was firm and downcast, a furrow in his brow as he listened. Charles was quiet before his voice carried a weight in the air, Bucky listening intensely.

"Sometimes the hardest part about survival is believing that you deserve it. You know the stakes because you've been this woman. You've worn her eyes, you've worn her hands, and you've worn the weight of forced compliance...but just like you, she needs someone that is willing to wait for her on the other side. Someone that understands and loves her."

The choice of words that Charles used made Bucky's jaw go slack, and he swallowed thickly before looking away, staring out into the garden and watching as the wind blew slightly; white lilies catching the sunlight as they swayed, and Bucky chewed on his cheek for a moment.

"What if it isn't enough?"

"Then you adapt."

Bucky was looking at Charles, a look of worry across his face, but Charles was patient and kind as he looked back. Bucky then looked down at the ground, and he frowned for a moment.

"You said that Logan was...like me. What do you mean by that?"

Charles hummed, shaking his head as he winked at Bucky.

"I think that is a question better suited to ask Logan himself. Though, do not be offended if he does not open up to you. As I said, Logan continues to battle those ghosts himself, and it's difficult for him to be vulnerable."

Charles then cleared his throat and informed Bucky.

"I will leave you to your thoughts if you would prefer. I will retrieve Kurt, and if you find yourself in need of familiar company, Hank's lab is just down the hall."

Bucky nodded, and he sat down on a chair that was sitting next to the window overlooking the garden. Charles wheeled away, and when he passed Logan, he stated with a teasing tone.

"Logan, eavesdropping is very unbecoming."

"Like you can talk."

Logan scoffed. Charles rolled his eyes a bit before stating.

"Talk to him."

There was a finality to Charles' voice that left Logan unable to protest, and he growled to himself slightly before he kicked himself up off of the wall. For a moment, Logan watched as Charles wheeled himself away before he walked out to where Bucky was. Logan didn't say anything at first, but Bucky noticed him immediately.

"You always go around sneaking like that?"

Logan pursed his lips before relighting his cigar, muttering as he plopped down in front of Bucky.

"I wasn't sneaking."

Bucky raised a brow, wrinkling his nose slightly as the smell of the burning tobacco as he replied.

"Right, so listening while I spill my guts out isn't sneaking?"

Logan didn't respond. Instead, he stared out the window at the garden for a moment, seeming to contemplate his words as he became uncomfortable. He was never the kind to have such deep talks. It just wasn't Logan's style, but the mutant could feel it. There was a similarity; a resonation with the Avenger that was familiar.

"Earlier, you said that (Y/n) might not come back the same...it's pretty likely."

"If this is your way of being comforting, you're not really good at it."

Logan glared at Bucky, replying with a curled lip as he took a big puff of his cigar.

"It ain't supposed to be comforting, bub, it's honesty."

Bucky pursed his lips before he looked down at the table before he mumbled.

"I know I'm right. I've seen it before. I've been there before...but the programming they've used...it's completely different, and I don't know what to do."

Bucky clasped his hands together, rubbing the metal of his left hand with his thumb.

"With the regular programming, it was easier. You stay out of cryo for a while, they don't wipe you, and you start to remember. For me, it was a lot easier because I had Steve...I had something to hold onto, but (Y/n)'s family is mostly dead except for her Aunt Mavis. (Y/n) had nothing...and she was just starting to stabilize, to remember more, before fucking Fury and everyone decided to send her into HYDRA."

Logan frowned deeply, and he asked, tilting his head.

"Why did they do that, anyway?"

"Because the goal was to infiltrate HYDRA instead of HYDRA infiltrating us. Fight them on their own turf, and the only way they would do that would be for someone they know and trust to go in. I can't because HYDRA is already aware that the programming is gone. But for (Y/n)...deprogramming her was the point...and I still don't understand why."

Logan was quiet for a beat before he sighed, taking another big puff of his cigar before he spoke.

"I get it. I've seen people turned into weapons because somebody else decided that it was the 'right thing to do' and necessary. I was one myself, and bub, there ain't nothing clean or noble about it. It's just a bunch of bastards pretending like they're doing the best for their country cause they ain't got the balls to fight for it themselves the hard way."

Bucky became intrigued before he asked quietly.

"What...what happened?"

Logan stared Bucky down, understanding what the man was trying to ask. His jaw shifted slightly, the cigar smoldering and adjusting, and Logan sighed, his brow furrowing.

"Same damn shit as you, kid, just different labs, different coats, different people. They took everything from me. My memories, my thoughts, me, and all that was left was...was a monster that was angry. I followed orders, killed, all because one man was hungry for a power he couldn't handle."

Logan sat back in his seat a little, a wry little smile on his face.

"But after escaping, I started to remember...started to figure out who I really was...and I made sure to pay a visit to that man and remind him just how human he was."

Logan then looked at Bucky, who was listening intensely.

"Your turn."

Bucky was taken back, blinking slightly.

"W-What do you mean?"

Logan raised an eyebrow at him, a subtle annoyance coming over the mutant.

"I told you my scars, you tell me yours."

Bucky was almost taken by surprise. Did Logan really know nothing about him and the Winter Soldier?

"You really don't know about...me and...the Winter Soldier?"

Logan's expression darkened a little, the corner of his mouth twitching around the cigar.

"I know what they called you. And I know what they turned you into. But I ain't askin' for a file. I'm askin' what you carry from it."

Bucky looked surprised again before he looked down at the table, the sunlight shining on his metal arm and creating a glare that hurt his eyes a bit as he looked at the shining material.

"I...I can't sleep at night sometimes. I remember all of them...all the people I had to kill...all the people I've hurt because of my actions. Hell, I'm part of the reason (Y/n) was turned into the Winter Soldier. And...there's a part of me that still wonders if this is real or if it's just a fabrication, you know?"

Logan was listening quietly, crossing his arms as he gazed long and hard at Bucky, and Bucky took a calming deep breath.

"I was starting to make a bit more peace with what I did when I met (Y/n). I didn't want to help her, I knew what she was, and I...I hated her. I hated being faced with what I was...but Steve was insistent that I help. I guess he figured that if I tried to rehabilitate (Y/n) alongside the Wakandans, I might learn something. I did, in a way...and now, I'm so fucking terrified that she's lost forever because I didn't fight hard enough for Fury to send someone else in."

His eyes turned glassy, and Bucky desperately blinked the tears away as he brought his hands to his mouth, whispering.

"I'm so fucking terrified. I'm trying to keep a level head...trying to stay calm...cause I can feel it. I can feel that part of me that's still in there. (Y/n)...she's awake for all of this; all of what she's doing, and I'm so scared that once we get her back, there's gonna be nothing of her left. It's just gonna be a hollow machine that we're gonna have to...have to..."

His voice trailed off, unable to bring himself to say the words, and Logan wisely didn't finish the sentence for him. Bucky swallowed thickly before muttering.

"I've been alive for 101 years...and I was a weapon for around 75 years...and I don't have a single clue on how to go about this."

Logan scoffed, leaning over to put his cigar out in a bowl that definitely wasn't an ashtray.

"You say 100 as if that's old, bub. You're still a baby."

Bucky was offended.

"What the hell does that mean? You're like 40."

Logan smirked, a knowing expression on his face as he replied.

"Actually, kid, I'm 186."

Bucky squinted, quipping back as he stared Logan down.

"That's bullshit. There's no way."

Logan chuckled, shrugging.

"Healing factor, son, and some pretty damn good genes."

Bucky almost rolled his eyes before Logan's expression became serious again.

"Listen, kid...we'll get your lady back...but you better be prepared for what's ahead after that. You had Steve, but she has you, and you need to be ready to carry that weight for her until she can carry it herself."

I want to remember the sunlight, even if I don't remember what it is.

Bucky became serious, nodding his head as he agreed.

"I know, and I'm willing to do it. What we have to focus on first is actually getting her back."

Before either of the men could say anything more, Peter suddenly came skidding around the corner, panting slightly.

"B-Bucky! Oh, hi, Mr. Wolverine. Um, you need to come to the lab, like, now."

Bucky stood up from his seat, asking as dread suddenly filled him.

"What is it, Queens?"

Peter looked reluctant to say anything before he stated gravely.

"It's...It's all over the news, man. (Y/n)...they had her assassinate the Prime Minister of France."

Both Logan and Bucky shared a look, and the group hurried to Hank's lab where Tony, Hank, and Strange were watching the TV. Hank was holding a hand to his chin in shock, and Strange was clenching his jaw.

Tony was staring down at the ground with an angry look on his face, and Peter became anxious as he picked a spot by a table as the report on the TV continued, a zoomed in and extremely blurry image of (Y/n) holding a rifle on the screen.

"-Speculation has already begun to spread with many citizens wondering 'is this the infamous (Y/n) (L/n) from the United States vs Rollins & Holloway court trial from a couple weeks ago'? And if so, what went wrong? Is this a woman gone rogue, or is HYDRA beginning to rear its head once more?"

The scene changed to a man that was crying while speaking in French, English captions coming up as the interviewer took his statement.

"It's a tragedy! Our Prime Minister is dead! What is our country going to do? First, the Swiss President, and now ours. He was a kind man, why did this happen? Whoever did this deserves to die!"

The interview was immediately cut off from his vulgar words, and the news reporter looked grim.

"The Prime Minister of France, and many of his security detail were found dead at the scene. French officials have yet to comment, but sources close to the investigation suggest the possibility of a highly trained assassin operating under foreign influence."

Tony shook his head, running a hand through his hair in stress, and Strange muttered.

"We're out of time."

Peter looked anxious, asking in an almost panicked voice.

"What do we do? I mean, (Y/n) was seen this time. What is HYDRA thinking?"

Logan spoke up, making everyone in the room look at him.

"They're turning her into a message, and if we wanna do something, we better listen."

Bucky's metal hand clenched, the plates in his arm whirring again, and Bucky muttered.

"We need to get her out fast. There's no waiting or dragging this mission out. We have to get (Y/n) back."

Peter then asked, shaking his head.

"I'm not trying to be insensitive or anything, but what about HYDRA?What are we gonna do about that?"

Tony finally spoke up, pacing as he began to think out loud.

"If we're going to destroy HYDRA once and for all, then we need to do it ourselves. Gather evidence, data scrape, do anything we can to prove HYDRA is still around and are in the highest positions of power. And don't say a damn word to Fury about it. I'm talking full ghost protocol."

Peter raised his hand, asking with a confused look on his face.

"Um, what do you mean by 'ghost protocol'?"

Logan muttered with a growl that came from deep within his belly, startling Peter.

"It means we're on our damn own. Can't trust suits, agencies, nothing."

Bucky was cold as he muttered.

"Then let's start acting like it."

-(Y/N)-

Her head was swimming with pain. (Y/n) was kneeling on the floor, head pressed against the cold concrete and hands splayed out on either side as a cane came cracking down on her back. Despite the fact that she was trapped in her own mind, (Y/n) could still feel the physical pain.

She'd been here for what felt like hours, her new Handler cracking the cane down onto her back so hard that (Y/n) was surprised that her spine hadn't broken yet. She was sobbing internally, writhing on the floor of her snow-covered cage with every smack of the cane, and all (Y/n) could think about was how cold she felt and how much the pain was hurting.

The soldier, however, stayed obediently quiet; not a single sound coming out from her lips. Her eyes stared down at the floor, focusing on the blood splatter that had appeared when the cane struck her in the face, and (Y/n)'s mouth involuntarily salivated at the urge to lick it up.

A good dog always cleans up their messes.

It was getting harder to breathe with every smack of the cane, every kick into her side, and just as (Y/n) panicked at the sound of a belt unbuckling, the cell door swung open, and Lukas walked in. He made a noise of disgust, a slap sounding as he hissed out.

"What are you, a fucking dog? Get yourself together and get the fuck out."

The Handler rushed out, and finally, it was just Lukas and her in the room. It was quiet for a moment, the sound of a match striking making her ears perk up, and the smell of lavender and vanilla began to fill the room before Lukas spoke.

"Come on out, little Achilles."

Suddenly, her body relaxed, and for the first time in a while, the door to her cage was open. It felt as though she was being sprung into a wall, gasping a deep breath in, and that's when the pain really began to settle. (Y/n) grit her teeth, clenching her bloodied and busted knuckles, and she slowly sat up, coughing out as a sob ripped itself from her lips.

Lukas was uncaring, simply staring down at her as the candle flame flickered across his cruel expression. (Y/n) was beginning to shake and tremble, and she was terrified; unable to speak as she braced herself for whatever was about to happen.

"Sit up."

Despite the fear, somehow, her body still obeyed, and she sat up, her face betraying her fear. Lukas smirked, and he knelt down before her, tilting his head.

"The work you have done today will be remembered for years to come. In no time, the world will turn upon the Avengers...the public is already speculating that the Avengers were lying this whole time...harboring a weapon and using it to get back at the ones trying to control and regulate them."

Her bottom lip trembled, the tears falling down her face, and Lukas cooed in mock empathy, his hand coming up and forcing (y/n) to flinch as he wiped her tears away.

"Oh, save your tears, little one. Save them for the moment you kill them all."

The words hit her like a freight train; her chest caving in from the gravity of the sentiment, and (Y/n) became deathly still; not a breath or a word coming from her. There was something in her that cracked, something deep within that fractured and pulled away from her like sinew and bone.

It was a part of her that still remembered the sunlight; the sound of Doris Day playing on the speakers in Shuri's lab; the way Bucky looked at her as he held her hand.

And the memories burned like a fire within her.

Despite the desire to lunge; to claw at his eyes; to escape, her body refused to move. Her muscles were spasming and twitching, trying to fight the control, but the failsafe was still active and only momentarily loosened.

"No."

She turned her eyes up to him slowly. Glassy. Trembling. But in the depths of them, a spark.

"I refuse."

Lukas frowned slightly, noticing the change, and he suddenly laughed as if she said the funniest thing he had ever heard.

"Oh, little Achilles, what makes you think you can refuse? I hold you in the palm of my hand. With a single sound, you are under my control."

His hand went into his pocket, and the sound of the ringtone from the phone played. (Y/n) instantly stiffened, almost crying out as it felt as though she was violently shoved back into her snow-covered cage.

“Don’t forget. You are mine, and you will carry out your missions with utmost satisfaction...or shall I pay a visit to our lost asset?"

(Y/n) didn’t speak, her lips unable to move, but the thought of Lukas going after Bucky made her blood run cold. She was begging within her mind, grabbing the bars of her enclosure and screamed loud.

The soldier sat quietly. Lukas smirked before he waved his hand and walked out of the cell, locking the door as he called.

"Rest up, Asset. We have more work to do."

-

So, I went with the scent route because the avengers, Shuri, nor the Xmen (save for maybe Hank) would NEVER think that a scent could deactivate the failsafe. Sometimes, the best solutions are the simplest ones ;) hehehehehHEHEHEHEHEHEH!!!!

TAGGING: @ravenswritingroom @mggslefttit @softpia @thebl00dwyrm @buckvoidsyy @chonkybonky @seemsxsketchy @tilldeathripsusapart @vicmc624 @mgchaser @aash3 @samfunko @seventeen-x @valckenaux @babybeeelle @sc4rrc @cjand10 @bane-y-zane @notsostrangerthing @thenameswinter99 @bumblebeebutter @torntaltos @highhopes1008

[myherobkg]

THE ROLE OF A LIFETIME; dungeons & dragons au

Katsuki was born a half-giant and bred to roam the plains with his barbarian brethren. He was a foul-mouthed, ill-tempered, reckless brute adorned in fur and armor with his mighty mace hanging over his back. He was born to rule them all.

But fate had other plans, and his tribe was wiped off the face of the Earth after the King of the skies razed hellfire on them. Returning from a hunt, Katsuki arrived at his decimated home, ruined to ash and rubble.

His family—his people—were there one moment and gone the next, reduced to charred statues. After that, Katsuki wandered aimlessly until he became enthralled by the allure of alcohol.

A young half-giant, the last of his tribe, turned to mercenary work to fund his gluttony.

Katsuki's last payment came from a clean-up job, clearing out a small wooded area infested with monsters. The small village on the outskirts of the wood sent for him, requesting his help for a large sum.

It was an easy feat for a warrior of his stature, and his success wrought fruitful results—a free room at the pub and all the drinks he could ask for.

However, the offer had its contingencies, and Katsuki was forced to enjoy his pints amidst the celebration held for the village people. That's where he met the Businessman.

The Businessman kept two men at his side as he sat down with Katsuki. His companions remained standing behind him.

"Enjoying the festivities, Warrior?" The man started the conversation cryptically.

Katsuki doesn't look up from his pint. The party raged around him, but no one dared touch him in passing. "No."

Clearing his throat, the man decided to skip the niceties. "I have a job for you."

"Not interested," Katsuki gruffs out before touching his lips to the rim.

"I will pay you 100 gold," the Businessman bid.

"I want 300." Katsuki slammed his glass on the table and signaled for another. The man's jaw dropped.

"300 is outrageous. It's a simple delivery to the Earl." He laughed pathetically. "I'm sure the Earl will reward you handsomely for your efficiency."

"You pay me 300 now. I'll have the Earl pay me 500 when I get there."

"So, you'll take the job?" The Businessman clenched his hands into fists with a broad smile before remembering Katsuki's rate. "If you come with us, we can pay for the cargo. However, you must leave tonight."

Katsuki froze, lifting his topped-off drink. "Make it 400."

The man choked mid-breath. "Warrior, I implore you to reconsider your price. Think of the honor you'd receive for escorting such an important gift for nobility."

Katsuki lugged half of his drink down, spilling some down the sides of his face and neck. "It's 400, or you shut the hell up and quit bothering me." His ruby-red eyes glimmered dangerously in the lamp-light.

The Businessman shrank in his seat and waved his hand for his men. The guard on his right went off to get the payment.

"If you wouldn't mind following us as quickly as you can," the Businessman murmured nervously, avoiding direct eye contact. "We can settle you with the cargo, and you can be on your way."

Katsuki looked at the weak man standing behind his employer. It wouldn't take any effort to throw that man through the ceiling, but it somehow felt appealing for the Businessman to bring security.

With this in mind, Katsuki didn't expect any issues from a little side quest for money. Perhaps he was tired from his last battle, but the adrenaline and deep, crippling fear of loneliness kept pushing him to suppress it.

"Let's get this over with." He grumbled, disregarding his last sip of beer and pushing away from the table.

The Businessman and his guard led Katsuki outside to a barn on the edge of the village. The night was calm, and the skies were clear—a good omen for this task.

"The cargo is just inside here," the Businessman murmured, sharing an uneasy expression with his guard, which alerted a few alarms in Katsuki's head. As he led Katsuki in, the guard stayed outside the entrance.

The first thing Katsuki noticed was that there was no "cargo." Two more guards were standing inside, and you were chained to the floor. Your hair and face were dirty, and your clothes were covered in dirt and cow shit.

When you looked up at him, he took note of your cat-like eyes and pointed ears. The chains around your wrists had runes etched into them.

Magic?

"Is this a goddamn joke?" Katsuki asked loudly, making one of the guards flinch. "What do you goddamn hicks take me for?"

He turns on his heel and starts walking out when the Businessman shouts out for him.

Katsuki falters in his step, and something compels him to turn to turn around. He sees the Businessman sweating profusely—he must be desperate to get you off his hands, Katsuki thinks. He catches the two guards adjusting their grips on their weapons: a spear and a bow. The sight of them shaking in fear and regret almost makes Katsuki laugh.

He licks his lips and pulls out a dagger—decides it's expendable. When he winds his arm back, all three adversaries flinch, fearful of being the target. The knife flies through the air between their shoulders, aimed for the floor where your cuffs come together.

Katsuki's taken by surprise when you slam your wrist against the ground, breaking the cuff on your right in one attempt. You tear off the other cuff with ease. He stands back and watches you jump between each man, slaughtering them with your clumsy, desperate hands.

After the men are dead, you're left standing over their bodies with blood on your hands, panting heavily.

With his arms crossed, exuding confidence, Katsuki whistles for your attention. He knows he has it when your head turns, angling your ear to him.

"How did men like them get their hands on a magic-wielding elf?" He questions, sincerely curious.

You turn to face him fully, blood and hay falling from your tunic.

"Auction houses," you answer breathlessly, with sweat matting hair to your forehead. Wiping it out of your face, you trip on your shaky legs to the barn post and release a heavy sigh. "You would've delivered me to my sixth owner. You looked like a good one when you walked in, too."

You were still breathing heavily. Katsuki recognized it as panic.

"I'm not going back," you say quickly as he approaches you. Your eyes are wild, and your appearance makes you look hysterical.

"You aren't going back," he promises quietly, raising his hand for you. Your arm shakes when you reach for him.

When he brings his fur around your shoulders, you bat it away, spitefully refusing it.

"I want to leave," you whisper anxiously, pushing against Katsuki's arms.

"Then cover yourself," Katsuki orders firmly, wrapping his fur tightly around you. His fur, which drapes over his shoulder like a garment, wraps around you like a blanket. "There are still folk wandering everywhere."

"Where are we right now?" You ask as he ushers you out of the barn.

"A village. Heldenfaire," Katsuki answers.

"There's a town in this land. I wish for you to take me there."

"We can discuss the details of our arrangement later." Katsuki threw his cloak over his shoulders and pulled his hood over his head before steering you toward the nearby stables. "Let's first focus on getting a horse."

—please reblog & comment if you like it! do not copy or repost ©

[starlightshadowsworld]

Honestly my favourite thing about Fyodor is that he never learns. He makes so many mistakes, has his plans ruined constantly.

But he will never learn.

Fyodor can’t fathom the idea that he’s anything less than perfect. He will bullshit his way into thinking all of this is going according to plan.

When it isn’t in the slightest.

Judging from his reaction Dazai getting arrested wasn’t his plan.

His plan involved having Sigma and Nikolai killed and that didn’t happen either. The entire Mersault breakout wasn’t anything he prepared for.

And these circumstances do not change that technically Dazai beat him during that battle. But Fyodor will pretend this was all meant to happen.

In a series where people are constantly changing and breaking the cycle. Fyodor stands as alone as someone who refuses to change.

Something that’s perfectly summed up by his ability. No matter what he learns. No matter what happens to him. He will always remain the same.

And this is why I believe Fyodor can never see Dazai as an equal (other than he doesn’t have white hair of course.)

Because Fyodor has such a fixed idea on what humanity is. To him humanity is flawed, full of sin. The irony that he’s unchanging but demands that they change.

And no matter what he sees or experiences will change that. He expects Dazai to feel the same but he doesn’t.

Because Dazai knows without a shadow of a doubt that humanity can change. Because he’s seen it first hand from Odasuku. It’s the same lesson he tells Kyouka that allows her to join the Agency.

Dazai has let himself be changed, to be proven wrong and learn from it. He thought Chuuya was nothing but an angry brute when they met.

And learned that was far from true. He is constantly in awe and surprised by Atsushi and his kindness.

Even with others at his side Fyodor has only ever worked alone but Dazai never has.

It was Atsushi’s idea to propose an alliance with the Port Mafia. The Mersault plan was between Dazai, Ranpo and Chuuya. Double Black was formidable because they were a team.

Dazai whose hands were full of cards that he couldn’t predict. Dazai who sat in jail and trusted his friends and allies through it all.

Dazai who once couldn’t fathom anyone going so far for their friends now doing the same.

But Fyodor doesn’t get that.

He constantly undermines the bonds of others. He calls Dazai and Chuuya’s bond shallow. Even when it’s those same bond that beat him. He thinks relying on others is weak and foolish.

He can’t trust anything he can’t control because everything has to go his way. There can’t be any uncertainties nor flaws.

Fyodor’s so focused on what humanity does wrong that he can’t fathom what they do right. His perception of them is fixed in this almost black and white kind of thinking.

But unlike other people like say Akutagawa who also had a fixed perspective on others, Fyodor won’t allow himself to be proven wrong.

And that’s why he keeps losing because he keeps doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.

Hell the one and only time we learn of Fyodor using Amenogozen is to look into the past.

And well if he thinks Atsushi, or rather the tiger will share his views on things. He is in for a rather rude awakening because Atsushi’s kinda the driving force for change and growth in this series.

I mean even from the start he and Akutagawa was actively trying to understand each other’s views. He taught Kyouka that she could live in the light.

Atsushi has touched the hearts of others in many ways. And allowed them to touch his and change him. And Fyodor’s not gonna be happy to learn that.

And yeah, there’s not many things about Fyodor I like. But his unwillingness to get with the programme and do some reflecting is definitely fascinating to me.

That Fyodor’s so convinced that he’s won and that’s going to be his downfall. Just like it always is. And he will never recognise that the fault lies in himself.

Or to put it all simply in Dazai’s words to Shibusawa in Dead Apple, you would understand if you actually had friends.

[thegoldencontracts]

The Daintiest Man Alive

Summary: After a few unfruitful attempte at strategizing, you and Jack finally come up with a plan to try and force Azul to let the anemones go. Things quickly go topsy-turvy.

You and Jack had both been trying to make Azul free all the students he'd enslaved. And frankly, it wasn't going well.

You'd already signed a contract with him, and now you had three- no, two days left to steal some field trip photo from an undersea museum.

It was safe to say you were starting to get a bit desperate. After all, someone as talented as Azul had to be super hard to beat!

"Ugh," Jack said, shooting you a disgusted look. "You're fawning over that Cephalopunk again, aren't you?"

You just sighed dreamily.

"He's pretty, and smart, and he's so talented, and-*

"And he scammed you out of your home."

"He didn't scam me, Jack, I'm not stupid. I'll kick his ass if I need to and get my home back."

Truth be told, you already had a plan. You felt a bit bad for not telling Jack yet. Especially since he seemed like he was genuinely trying to help you - but hey, at least you could go through other plans before trying out your last resort.

But you were running out of options. That was becoming pretty clear from the plans you were trying out.

"Are you sure we wanna do this?" You asked.

"Why not?" Jack said. "It'll be easy. He seems pretty weak."

True, but- there were so many things to worry about here. Everything that could go wrong with your plan of physically overpowering Azul and, well, basically holding him hostage. It was crazy! How did you two even think of it?

"Are you really sure, though?" You asked. Jack just nodded.

"Yeah, yeah," he said. "I'm sure. Aren't you? After all, this was mostly your idea."

And you beginning to worry it was a dumb idea. Were you two seriously going to get Azul pinned down? Hold him hostage? This was crazy, God, you were crazy-

"Listen," Jack said, as your thoughts began to spiral. "I know this is a bit of a crazy plan, but hey, we can make it work. And it's better than losing your home to some scumbag."

That was... weirdly comforting, especially coming from Jack.

"A hot scumbag," you said. "But hey, it's too late for second thoughts anyways, right?"

Jack nodded. It really was, considering that the two of you were right outside Mostro Lounge. Now, you just had to wait for Azul to-

The door slammed open as if the room itself had heard your thoughts, and the two of you sprung into action.

"What is the meaning of-"

And before Azul knew it, he was pinned. He gave you and indescribable gaze, before huffing.

"Release me at once," he said. You just shook your head.

"I bet you already know what you'd have to do for that to happen, sweetcheeks."

Jack's face puckered at your nickname. Whatever. It was a good nickname, right?

"You won't get away with this," Azul hissed.

"And you won't get away with anything you've done either." Jack said, before turning to you. "Keep his hands tied down; it'll make it easier for us if he tries to get out."

"On it."

Come to think of it, Azul wasn't struggling at all. He was just... Laying there. With a mildly indignant look on his face. What happened? Did he just realize how futile any attempt at escape would be?

"You seem awfully calm for someone in such a precarious position, pretty boy," Jack groaned at your continuous use of - perfectly average and rather clever if you really thought about it, in fact - nicknames. "Why? Got a trick or two up your sleeve?"

"Not at all," Azul said as you tied his arms together with some random rope Jack had summoned. It was pretty meh in quality, like the kind used as a prop in a kid's play. "I simply know brutes like you will be brought to justice."

He seemed a bit uneasy, though.

"The real brutes here are you and those twins of yours," Jack said. You nodded.

"Yep! The real devil's the way you use those gorgeous eyes of yours to lure unsuspecting students in, blinding them with your beauty."

Silence. Then, the sound of Jack smacking his palm again his forehead.

"Do you have any idea how stupid you sounded just now?" He asked.

You just laughed.

"You think I'm super witty deep down inside, admit it."

Azul just scowled.

"You two have some nerve, taking advantage of my weak and fragile nature!" He said with a huff.

That sounded a bit suspicious. Was Azul really the type to do openly admit how weak he was? Wasn't this a complete contrast from his usual demeanor?

Jack seemed to notice the same thing.

"You really didn't need to emphasize how weak you are," he said, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"My stature doesn't allow for musculature," Azul said, but you couldn't help but notice the slight bit of sweat that seemed to form near his cheek.

Wait a minute.

Was he- strong enough to get out of this? Was he just pretending he was weak because it made him feel small and he liked that or something?

"You could get out of this easily," you said in realization. Azul looked around awkwardly.

"No. I couldn't."

"Yes you could."

Jack's eyes widened. He'd realized the same thing you had.

"You could've gotten out of this all along?" He said. Azul looked around in panic.

"N-No I couldn't, I'm much too weak, I assure you," he said. Like you believed that for one second.

"It seems like you can," Jack said, brow twitching in irritation. "Then go on. Do it."

"I'm too frail," Azul said.

Before you could continue this weird tangent, the door slammed open again, and there walked the Leech twins. Jack seemed even more irritated than before.

"Now those guys're here too," he said. You were more worried about what they were going to do.

"My, my," Jade said with a mocking laugh. "It seems we've encountered a damsel in distress."

"Yep!" Floyd said. "Don't you guys know that's our Azul?"

Hard to believe when Floyd looked like he was about to die of laughter.

But in an instant, Azul shoved the two of you off, snapping the rope like it was nothing before walking up to Floyd and shaking him by the uniform.

"I know you recorded that! Give up your phone or I swear to the Sea Witch you won't recognize your own body-"

You and Jack just stared in shock. What was going on with Azul? He was the biggest barbarian out of any of you! Just hearing the way he threatened Floyd made you shudder a little, even if Floyd himself just seemed amused.

There was one conclusion to draw here. This plan was definitely a failure.

[msilwrites]

Papa Bear Material Ch 5 - (Captain Price Fic) Background Check

Chapter 1  Chapter 1 (Shorter Version)   Chapter 2 Chapter 3  Chapter 4 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10  Chapter 11 (Last Chapter)

Summary: Y/N is a reserved former constable and master sniper in the London police force, now working full-time as an artisan. She reconnects with old colleagues at a grill house for a catch-up, where her former junior, Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick, tries to play matchmaker. Gaz’s attempt to set her up with the retired SAS and Papa Bear material, Captain John Price, is met with resistance as Y/N is caught off guard by the unexpected attention. @darkangel4121@teenagellamaangel@madzzz0797@callsignferal(To the other’s who want me to tag you when there’s an update, just tell me at the comments)

Warning: Mention of abuse

A quick A/N:

Before jumping to the conclusion that Y/N’s victory was unrealistic or labeling her a "Mary Sue," it’s important to note that her win is grounded in practical, researched tactics. Y/N is an SCO19 sniper with urban warfare expertise—an environment where methodical planning and familiarity with tight, complex spaces trump brute force or traditional military tactics. Her role emphasizes precision, adaptability, and outthinking her opponents, which made her success plausible in this exercise.

On the other hand, Captain Price is a seasoned veteran with broad expertise, but his experience as a generalist operator wasn’t perfectly suited to the specialized demands of urban combat in this scenario. He underestimated how critical environmental mastery and sniper strategy were to the outcome, which reflects real-life situations where even the most skilled operators can be outmaneuvered in domains outside their specialty.

P.S.: I looked into this a lot (and spent time watching actual combat exercises) so I could make it as realistic as possible. 😊

Background Check

The faint buzz of the fluorescent lights overhead was the only sound in the otherwise silent room. Price sat at his desk, staring at the screen of his computer, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. The glow from the monitor cast a pale light on his furrowed brow as he replayed the events of the exercise in his head. He had lost, and not just in the way a typical soldier loses a battle. No, this loss gnawed at him in a way he wasn’t used to. It wasn’t just about tactics. It was about the person on the other side—Y/N.

He hadn’t seen it coming. The way she maneuvered her team, the way she used the urban environment like it was a living, breathing thing. Price, a seasoned veteran with more combat experience than most men could dream of, had been outwitted by a sniper whose reputation, he now realized, was far more than just a title. She was a specialist in a way that went beyond his initial expectations.

Underestimated, huh? He thought with a grimace, his gaze falling to the glass in front of him. He’d poured himself a drink earlier, though it felt more like a reflection of his frustration than anything else. He downed the whiskey in one smooth motion, the burn of it doing little to ease the tension in his chest.

His mind wandered to the way Y/N had handled herself—stoic, calculated, always thinking three steps ahead. She had been quiet during the entire exercise, a stark contrast to the boisterous, competitive atmosphere around her. That quiet precision, though… that was what set her apart. A trained sniper who knew how to stay hidden, blend into her environment, and take her shots at the perfect moment. She was more than just a "tortoise," she was a master at urban combat, a niche so many seasoned veterans struggled to adapt to.

But what irked him even more than losing was the mystery around her. No one in the unit seemed to know much about her personal background. On the surface, Y/N was just like any other operator—quiet, focused, and deadly in her own right. But it was the little things that made her stand out. She was incredibly dedicated to her team, always putting others first, making sure everyone was covered and watching each other’s backs. In a way, she was more dependable than anyone he’d ever worked with.

Her work ethic was impeccable—Y/N had a way of getting the job done without fuss or fanfare. She didn’t need to prove anything to anyone, yet she constantly exceeded expectations, even when the odds were stacked against her. Her teammates respected her for that, and though she wasn’t one for idle conversation or personal revelations, they could always count on her to show up when it mattered.

Still, despite the respect she commanded, there was something distant about her. She kept to herself, didn’t share much about her past, and preferred to stay out of the spotlight. She had no need for recognition, no desire to be celebrated. Her actions spoke louder than any words ever could, and that was the way she liked it.

But for someone like Price, who was used to reading people, that lack of transparency only made her more intriguing. He’d been around long enough to know when there was more to someone than met the eye. And Y/N? She was a puzzle—one he was determined to solve.

----------

Subject: Background Inquiry - Y/N (SCO19)

To: [Recipient Name] CC: [Relevant Personnel]

Body:

I need you to dig into the file for Inspector Y/N, codename "Tortoise." I know the clearance restrictions on her record—believe me, I'm well aware—but I have my ways of bypassing that. The thing is, she’s been in this game a lot longer than anyone's let on. I’ve seen her in action, and if I’m honest with myself, I’ve underestimated her. Urban warfare is her domain, and from what I’ve seen, she’s more than just a sniper. She’s tactical, calculated... and frankly, she’s left me rethinking everything I thought I knew about this line of work.

I need everything—her previous deployments, training, any contracts or associations with PMC units, and anything that might explain what makes her tick. I’ve got a feeling there’s more to her than meets the eye, and I don’t intend to keep looking the other way. She’s got a certain... presence, and it’s time I understood what drives her.

Be discreet about this—no issues with clearance or security. You know the drill.

Regards, Price

----------

As soon as Price hit send, he leaned back in his chair, the weight of his thoughts pressing on him more than the usual operational headaches. He had a habit of never letting anything—especially people—slip under his radar, but this was different. Y/N was different. It wasn’t just her tactical expertise that had caught his attention; it was something intangible, the way she operated with quiet precision, and how her mind seemed to anticipate every move before it happened.

He shook his head, trying to focus. But that damn patch she wore—the snapping turtle patch—kept coming back to his thoughts. The way her team rallied behind her, despite her quiet demeanor, spoke volumes. They clearly respected her, even if she didn’t show it. And then there were the glimmers of a deeper edge beneath her calm exterior—a sniper who didn’t just take the shot, but took the time to understand her environment and her enemy. " That’s something I can respect."

But then there was the matter of what had happened during the training exercise. He thought he was winning—had been winning, until it all came crumbling down with one last sweep. Her team had used the environment to their advantage—exactly how she’d been trained. And she? She’d been silent, invisible in the chaos, only to hit him square in the head when he’d least expected it.

He poured himself a glass of whisky, staring at the amber liquid. "No one had ever gotten the drop on me like that," he thought, taking a slow sip. He’d been fighting in these kinds of environments for years, but here she was, operating with a kind of patience and intuition he couldn’t shake. There was something compelling about that, something that made him want to know more. "Maybe I need to rethink my own game. "

As the glass clinked gently back on the desk, Price exhaled slowly. He’d sent the email—he’d find out what he could about her background. The more he knew, the better.

The sharp buzz of his phone interrupted his thoughts. He picked it up quickly, eyes scanning the message.

[Recipient Name]: I’ll look into it, sir. I’ll be discreet. Should have something for you within the next 24 hours or less. Don’t worry about the clearance, I’ll handle it.

Price stared at the screen for a long moment, his thumb hovering over the reply button. He considered typing something back, but decided against it. No need to overcomplicate things just yet.

---------- As Captain Price sits back, nursing a glass of whisky in his office, the chime of a new email cuts through the quiet of the night. He straightens, his gaze narrowing as he clicks open the message.

----------

Subject: Preliminary Information – Y/N (Codename: "Tortoise")

From: [Recipient Name] To: Commander John Price Date: [Insert Date, 00:10 AM] CC: [Relevant Personnel] Priority: High

Body:

Commander,

Here is the preliminary information on Inspector Y/N, as requested. This is a brief summary, but the full records are still being processed. I will ensure everything is pulled through, but here’s what we have so far:

Family Background: Y/N was born in Portsmouth, raised by a former Royal Navy officer who became an MI5 operative. Her father’s career gave him certain leverage, both in the Navy and with intelligence services. While there is some indication of her mother being complicit in the abuse, details are scarce.

Domestic Abuse Incident: There’s a documented case regarding domestic violence within the household. Social services were involved in the past, though much of the intervention was limited due to the father’s influence.

Missing Persons Report (Age 14): A police record from when she was a teenager indicates a missing persons report filed after a violent argument with her father.

- Missing Persons Reports (Age 14–19)

Frequency: Three documented incidents. Reason: Reports filed by concerned third parties (school staff, neighbors, or local authorities) after witnessing escalating domestic disturbances or after Y/N was seen leaving home for extended periods following physical or verbal altercations. Outcome: Each report ended with Y/N either being found staying with friends or local shelters. Upon investigation, she was repeatedly returned to her family home despite indications of domestic abuse, citing lack of concrete legal evidence or parental assurances. (Reports and Records as per attached)

I’ll send a follow-up once the full profile has been compiled.

----------

Price leaned back in his chair, the glow of the computer screen reflecting off his face as he read the email. His brow furrowed, the lines on his forehead deepening with every word. The contents were brief but revealing—a glimpse into a past that no one had spoken of, not even in passing.

The mention of multiple Missing Persons reports spanning Y/N’s teenage years hit harder than he expected. It wasn’t just the reports themselves, but what they implied: a life lived on the edge of survival, marred by conflict long before she picked up a rifle. The term "domestic disturbances" felt sterile, almost dismissive, compared to the reality it hinted at—physical and emotional wounds that couldn’t be bandaged over.

He scrubbed a hand down his face, his usual composure slipping as he stared at the screen. Her father, a Royal Navy officer. A man who should have been a protector, but instead was the source of her suffering. And her mother, passive at best, complicit at worst. It painted a grim picture, one Price wished he could unsee.

It was personal. Too personal.

The idea of Y/N—a woman who carried herself with such quiet strength—having endured that kind of upbringing stirred something in him. Anger, yes, but also a deep sense of admiration. She hadn’t just survived; she had risen above it, carving out a place for herself in one of the most grueling professions in the world.

He glanced at the timestamp on the email. Midnight. This wasn’t the kind of thing you could read and forget about, especially not at this hour.

Price sighed, his hand drifting to the glass of whiskey on his desk. He picked it up but didn’t drink, instead letting the weight of the glass anchor him. He knew he shouldn’t dig deeper—it wasn’t his place. Yet, the thought of leaving this half-finished made his stomach twist. There was more to her story, and now he couldn’t ignore the curiosity—or the quiet protectiveness—that had taken root.

"Y/N…" Price muttered to himself, setting the glass down as the memories stirred unbidden. This wasn’t new. If anything, he’d been aware of her long before she’d proven herself in the field.

It had all started with Gaz’s cheeky attempt at matchmaking, showing Price that picture with a grin and the bold claim: “She’s your type, Captain. Strong, smart, and she’s not the kind to immediately fall for your charm. Bet you’d have to work for it.”

He’d glanced at the picture, expecting nothing remarkable, but it had stopped him in his tracks. She was a beauty— petite, but a strong profile, and a kind of quiet confidence that spoke volumes even in a still photo. Gaz wasn’t wrong; she was his type.

"Drop by her stall," Gaz had urged a week later, nudging him during a casual chat. “She’s at the she's at stall 30, Just don’t make it weird.”

Price had rolled his eyes but eventually humored the idea. He’d wandered through the rows of vendors, trying to look casual as he approached her table. And when he’d seen her in person? Hell, the photo didn’t do her justice. She was a beauty in an understated way—focused as she sorted her wares, her movements deliberate and graceful. It wasn’t just her looks, though. There was something magnetic about her presence, something that had rooted him in place longer than he’d intended.

Of course, none of that mattered when he’d tried to strike up a conversation. She’d been polite but curt, clearly uninterested in his charm or his rank. She wasn’t rude—just distant, the kind of distance that said don’t even try.

And yet, here he was, unable to let it go.

What had started as light interest had deepened into a quiet admiration, especially now. Watching her in action during the exercise wasn’t just impressive; it had been humbling. She wasn’t just competent—she was exceptional. Calculated, efficient, but fiercely protective of her team. The Tortoise nickname wasn’t just a joke; it was the way she operated, outthinking and outlasting her opponents with sharp precision.

And then there was her past. The cold, hard facts from the report still lingered in his mind, their weight pressing heavy on his chest. She wasn’t just tough—she’d had to be.

Price exhaled, a short, bitter laugh escaping him. He wasn’t sure if he admired her more for what she’d endured or for the fact that she’d let none of it define her. Either way, it made him want to know her even more—a thought that unsettled him, because this wasn’t just professional. It hadn’t been for a long time.

"Damn it, Kyle…" he thought, shaking his head. The lad had been right, and he hated it.

The screen dimmed as the email timed out, but Price remained seated, lost in thought. Some questions could wait until morning, but he doubted his mind would let him rest until he knew the whole story.

Price reached for his whiskey, staring into the amber liquid. “Well, John, you’ve stepped into it now,” he said quietly, the weight of what he’d uncovered settling heavily.

Next Chapter ------>

[wolfcat-hybrid]

i havent been internet roadtripping can you tell me how you got denyed entry to canada. does the website just have usa data.

I may have been doing one of my classic lies when I blamed border control for not letting us into Canada. I mean, the existence of controlled borders is definitely the main reason this happened in the first place, but they aren't directly responsible.

What happened is, the car can only take routes that have been mapped on google street view. Not every road has been mapped, and sometimes coverage can be spotty.

There weren't any border crossings with great coverage in Maine. They all had gaps that the car wouldn't be able to jump. The crossing in Limestone had a smaller gap, and through testing (including confirmation by the actual developer) it was determined that the car COULD make the jump across this specific check point.

We got to that check point tonight, and no dice. We had to turn around.

The devastation at the border happened around ~1am EST, so making a new plan (and figuring out why the Limestone crossing failed in the first place) has been a bit slow, since most folks are asleep. For the last hour or so the car has been basically circling around the crossing, buying time while those awake theory craft and debate new plans.

I don't think we're going to come to any conclusions tonight, personally, unless the night shift manages to solve the mystery.

I'm gonna go to bed for the night, we'll see how things stand in the morning.

UPDATE: The current theory I see floating around is that an update that let the car go a bit faster may have caused the issue. There seem to be ongoing attempts to retry the crossing to see if we can brute force it to work.