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phyrestartr · 5 months

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Divine Favour | Sukuna x Kitsune!Reader (Pt.2) NSFW

W/C: 3.2k #NSFW, THEY FUCKIN', bottom!reader, top!sukuna, mild yuuji/reader, yuuji and gang are v early 20s, heian sukuna, male reader, typical kitsune shapeshifting, canon typical violence, morally grey reader, sukuna ignores feelings through the force of sheer willpower, unhealthy relationships, power imbalance, dubcon elements, blood as lube (SORRY), Sukuna unhinged horknee, ABO elements

A/N: I wanted to make this include more parts, but I am so flabbergasted and in awe of the response to this fic that I feel the need to feed y'all feral creatures LMAO. JKJK but 👀 Thank you for all the feedback and support! It really gives me the motivation to continue writing and to interact with the JJK community. I'm having a lot of fun!

tags: @kamote-kuneho @kamote-kuneho @nyanwko @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9 @3zae-zae3 @chibiduck @kiiyoooo @lukaijah

“What the fuck is this?” Sukuna drawled, an intense fury simmering through his being. His gaze couldn't tear free from you, not even to size up the blindfolded weirdo watching him intently.

He shattered the coffin, freeing you from the makeshift cursed bath some freak had forced you into. He smoothed damp hair from your sickly face and searched for sparks of life somewhere in the cold stillness that'd overtaken you. And there was something. He found it, a little glimmer of vitality in the smallest, shakiest inhale.

“Good,” he praised, brushing your hair back more and more to get a better look at your face. You looked like the frail little thing he saved all those decades ago.

“You know,” Gojo interrupted, but Sukuna paid him no mind, “If I didn't know any better, I'd think you actually cared about that kitsune.”

“Then you don't know what this is,” Sukuna decided blandly. “Figures.” Kenjaku kept him off the record, huh? Guess that's a bonus.

“Oh? Do you wanna enlighten me before Yuuji comes back?” Gojo smiled, as if he really expected Sukuna to play nice and be honest with him. “Come on, come on, it's your chance to be vulnerable~”

“Tch. Pretty damn sure the fox'll be the one to tell you.” His hand smoothed over your stomach and rubbed slow, gentle circles against your skin as reverse technique sought to bring you all back to him. “He yaps about as much as your insufferable ass does. Granted, he talks a lot nicer.”

“Wow, rude.” Gojo sighed and clapped twice as if clapping on a light. “Okay! I've had enough bullying. Yuuji–”

“Brat, don't you fucking dare–”

Yuuji inhaled sharply. He blinked owlishly at your calmed expression, your eyes now closed and breathing now steadied thanks to Sukuna's aid.

Aid. That wasn't something the king did.

“Sensei,” Yuuji managed, voice quivering under the weight of memories’ emotion. “Can you fix this?”

Somehow, you were stuck in the throes of flirtation with the malevolent king of curses.

“It may be courtship,” Uraume guessed, soft smile brightening their cold exterior.

(They'd been smiling more recently, actually, ever since you completed that overcoat and presented it to them. Nary a day went by when they did not don the sentimental garb.)

But you weren't so sure; the event of courtship was serious business across all lucid creatures. Animals and creatures of primal existence sought out partners with favorable genes and strong constitution, whereas humans and the like yearned for merit or love in their coupling. You didn't quite grasp the way humans thought. Not yet.

Well, save for flirting. You decided it was a sort of pre-courtship where nothing became serious and nothing was on the line, but frivolous touches and haughty words of praise ran rampant when those concerned crossed paths.

Much like today.

(Much like the days before and after.)

You walked along the stone-paved path most mornings, lost in thoughts and mumbling to yourself bits and pieces of poems. Most were unfinished, but in their own time, verses would find one another and complete the incomplete.

A groggy yawn hummed from the palace entrance. And moments later, Ryoumen Sukuna fell into step with you, grumbling and mumbling complaints about the nippy Spring morning while he tucked his arms away into his sleeves.

He followed you, idly looking around the expansive space you'd helped curate and maintain when you weren't busying yourself with the girls or decorating clothing. The gardens weren't a mess before, not at all, but now they had a certain taste–trees and flowers were planted with specificity, stones were moved, paths reworked. You took the outside over completely. The king didn't mind.

“Sukuna-sama,” you said, voice melting in kind with the morning frost. “I'll need to leave for a short while.”

Sukuna quirked a brow and looked at you. You gazed upon the large, thick koi flashing their beautiful scales and ornate patterns of orange and white as they swam and followed you. Tch. How come even the fish were drawn to you?

“And how do you think you'll accomplish that?” Sukuna tossed a rock into the koi pond, making the fish scatter. “Getting away from me isn't something you can do.”

You huffed and looked at him. “I understand. I simply seek your permission.”

“Denied.”

“Ah.” You deadpanned. “Why?”

“You're mine; I decide where you go, how you breathe, if you eat. Or are you forgetting that?”

You sighed and let your ears droop sadly with your tails. “Surely you jest.”

“Are you laughing?”

You whined like a sad, sad street pup before cozying up to him, slipping your hands up his stomach and chest like you were supposed to. “Please?”

“No.”

You chittered and pressed your face against him, but didn't protest and complain much more.

Sukuna’s thoughts whirled. The show was amusing, sure, but you didn't do anything without reason, especially when it had to do with breaking character and acting out like this out of–

Oh?

Sukuna leaned down and sniffed you, searching for the intriguing coil of flowery citrus he nearly missed on the warming breeze. It was so, so faint, but decadent and alluring in a way that made the master of toxins cautious–most poisons tasted sweet, after all.

You pulled your head back, shrinking down the slightest bit with your ears flattened against your skull. Your eyes, wide as a full moon, stared up at him, expectant. The touch of your hands on him never left, though.

“Brassavola nadosa.” Sukuna tilted his head. “You smell like it.”

You blinked curiously, relaxing. “Is that so?”

We don't have that orchid in the garden. Sukuna hummed and lifted a lock of your hair, catching another weak waft of the flower's faint scent.

It's coming from him, then. Hm.

“Tell me again why you want to leave the palace?” Sukuna asked on a hunch.

And that hunch doubled down when you fidgeted with the cloth of his haori and looked aside.

“I wish to bear children," you admitted, shy and quiet. "To try, at the very least. Perhaps find a mate, too.”

Children. You wanted children. After everything those sorcerers put you through for who knows how many years, you still wanted to mother a runt of your own. And you were willing to run off into the wild to, what, let some random man knock you up? Fill you with seed of unknown origin, unknown value, unknown potential?

Sukuna's ego flared. He leaned down to you, tilting your chin up to make you look him in the eyes regardless how small you felt in that moment. He deserved to witness you. You deserved to witness him.

“You're not leaving,” he breathed, and he swore he could hear your heart break. “If you want a brat, you'll get a brat–only if you stay here 'n give up on those shitty thoughts of finding a sire out there.”

Your eyes scanned his face, tracing over serious lines and honest creases. Clearly, you searched for an answer–

“How?”

–one that Sukuna didn’t have. Or maybe he did. Perhaps he just couldn't find the words for it.

He scoffed and ruffled up your hair, unable to answer you. “You're not leaving. Not unless I say so.”

The first time he let you go, he left scars.

He found you in your chambers come early evening. Your tails swished and flicked as you sat amidst a nest of his robes and the missing linens from his chambers while you futzed over the embroidery of another haori, this time adorning the plain thing with the darkest scarlet one could find. Sukuna could already guess why.

Your being burns as wildfires do. Lively. Emphatically. Devouring more and more so long as the earth lets you. Yet where you do not lay ruin, you grant warmth and light in a divine way. Wildfires are not such horrible things if one stays a respectable ways away.

Your poetic nonsense irritated him to no end, but he fell enamored all the same; you spoke to honor him with every utterance of his name. You didn't try to kiss his feet nor did you bask him in compliments–you only spoke into existence that which hummed through your mind, unprovoked. It just so happened to be everything Sukuna liked to hear.

So when he found you secluded away, beckoning so sweetly with intoxicating scents of citrus and gardenia, what choice did he have but to lay claim, to give you the brat you so sorely yearned for?

You sensed him. Your gaze flicked to him, stoic and unmoved as ever, as the energy in the room built into suffocating silence, something like tectonic plates caught in deadlock, holding their disastrous energy, waiting for the right moment to devastate the world with a single, cataclysmic shift.

And of course, it was the impatient predator that moved first, setting a catastrophe into motion.

The hours blurred together.

Every minute of the chase was thrilling, invigorating, surprising–you were filled with tricks and traps, never slowing down for a second to think or doubt as the beast of a sorcerer pursued you through his palace, through the city below, and now into the looming forest in the mountains.

Admittedly, he'd gotten carried away. He lost himself in the rush of it all, the adrenaline and pure, destructive desire pushed his self-control into unraveling just the slightest bit; honest attacks tore through space and time, hoping to maim and cripple you if they were to hit. And, honestly, the way you avoided his attempts to strike you down enthralled him as much as it enraged him–he was seconds away from unleashing his domain until a less-than-satisfying ripple of cursed energy tore across your thigh and put you down.

It was then, walking up to you, to his prey, that Sukuna remembered you weren't a sorcerer. Most would be able to stand and walk it off, maybe even heal with reverse technique, but you could only grasp at your weeping wound and grimace. Because you were not a sorcerer, you were a kitsune: a trickster, a creature full of mischief and void of cursed energy.

Yokai. Not a human. Not a curse. Not like the rest of the boring souls wandering his earth.

Sukuna pinned you the second you tried to make a break for it. Fangs and claws gnashed and tore into him while his hands strained to keep you down and rip those damn clothes free from your burning skin.

Mating's never a pretty thing when it comes to nature. Humans like you made it something more.

Sukuna clasped a hand over your mouth and forced his weight onto you, ripping reedy yowls from your core as you twisted and turned, primal mind urging you to run, run, run, don't make this easy, make him prove his worth–

Rip.

Ribbons of what were once your robes fluttered to the ground, useless and unsalvageable. They were plain black, so unlike what you usually wore. You wouldn't miss them.

“Make this as difficult as you want, pet,” Sukuna whispered as he loomed over you. His hand slid from your mouth to your throat when you stilled.

“You know how this ends.”

His pants were pulled down while another hand wiped slippery blood against your pliant entrance–and that was the only warning you got before he pushed into you.

Where you should have screamed, you instead sighed. Your back arched off the ground like a work of art. Two hands gave up on holding you down in favour of gripping your waist and hips, pulling you closer to him, forcing you flush against his body.

He noticed it then: a litany of old scars and discoloured marks shining against your skin. Marks left by those who did not deserve to taste such a delicacy.

Unsightly.

Blood painted the grass. Cleaves and slashes ate away at those tainted scars, painting over the ugliness left hidden for too long–now, his marks would decorate you. Now, those hidden scars would mean something. They’d mean everything.

Yet Sukuna's selfish maiming wasn't fitting the bill, and your antsy-ness was proof of it. You tried for the last time to pull from him, but his grip tightened around your throat. You gazed at him, then, eyes so wide and hungry, eager to fight or fuck–whichever came first.

He braced over you and nearly winced as he dragged out of your suffocating heat. A sharp snap back inside loosened you, the glide of blood and slick aiding him.

“I'll take you the way you need it,” he drawled as he built the pace quickly, already feeling his own obsession and excitement reverberating through his body, filling every fibre of muscle with electricity.

“Then,” he growled, leaning closer to your face. “I'll fuck you the way you want it.”

“More,” you sighed, digging your nails into the pillow you had your face buried in while the beast fucked you from behind. Sukuna groaned in compliance and lanced into your guts deeper, harder, faster than before–you were the only one that could handle the brutal way he let loose, and he was more than willing to indulge in that privilege.

The hands all over you rose to the occasion, too; one had your tails fisted in his ruthless grasp, rudely holding you still and pulling you back against his hips; another rested on the curve of your ass, only moving to give a sharp slap or to knead your soft, perfect skin; the last two held your hips in a crushing force, his calloused fingers digging into your plush sides and sharp hip bones like you might disappear at any second.

A sharp, sweet whine signaled the beginning of the end, as did the restless fidgeting and shifting in the king's grasp. Seeing you, a poised, powerful, mischievous being, come undone beneath him came to be one of Sukuna’s favourite sights, especially knowing it could only be because of him--only him.

He leaned over you, his heavy chest pressing into your back as one hand released your waist in favour of fisting in your hair and tugging your head back and out of the futon you so desperately clung to.

“Ah-ah,” he scolded breathily. “No hiding.” It was a familiar sentiment, one he had no problem reminding you of now and again. You had a horrible habit of trying to vanish when overwhelmed, after all.

“Terrible beast,” you snapped back, scoffing indignantly when the deep bassy laugh of the man rolled through your body. “Horrible.”

“You love it,” Sukuna growled back, grinning through every word.

Something about it clearly struck a chord with you, judging by how fast you choked on your voice and came undone, legs trembling and body tightening around the too-big intrusion. The king groaned and bit at your neck, licking whatever blood beaded at the surface in between rushed, hushed words of praise for you and your efforts–most, if they heard the things he said, would call it out of character for the beast. Most didn't get to see beyond his raw power and crippling cruelty, however.

Sukuna grunted and spilled inside you, pulling you back by your hair, hips and tail to ensure he forced every bit of his offerings deep into your core. Your body rocked and twitched against his, accepting all he had to offer you at the end of yet another coupling, before he let go of your locks and let you collapse face-first into the futon.

He pulled out slowly, watching as every inch slipped from your abused hole before popping free and uncorking a dribble of whiteness from inside. He tutted and scooped it up with two fingers before stuffing it back in.

“Oi, oi, are you even trying to keep it in?” He teased, smirking as you huffed.

“You've exhausted me. I have no energy to attempt the impossible,” you lamented, nuzzling your nose further into the soft sheets smelling of cedar and fresh blooms–something so uniquely Sukuna.

Your king sighed and gave your ass a firm few pats. “Guess I'll have to spoil you even more.” He settled onto his back and easily pulled you onto him, yanking you up to straddle his waist right where that second mouth laid open and eager to taste you.

“This is uncouth,” you sighed. But you rocked back against the thick, heavy tongue pressing into your pliant heat, licking deep into you with a mind and hunger of its own.

“Seems couth enough for you,” he commented, watching you ride his centre with rapt attention. “Little harlot's getting off on this, hey? Such a needy little brat.”

His hands smoothed up and down your legs and sides as you shamelessly chased a second high. Your hands clasped over his as he took you into his hand and stroked you back to ample stiffness, the soreness of too many rounds of fucking making you far too sensitive to touch.

“S-Sukuna-sama,” you stammered. “I can't–”

Sukuna's head tilted with a pleased smirk. “Ho? I thought you wanted to bear children? Are my offerings not enough for you?”

You scrunched your face up into something of a prissy glare, but the shine clinging to your lashes and the shuddering of your body against his betrayed your crumbling demeanor. Of course, he was impressed with how his fox was fairing considering everything he put you through.

He maneuvered you onto your back, grinning as you growled and weakly struggled against him. You looked perfect–stomach swollen, hair fanned out behind you, eyes teary but unable to tear away from the creature that’d tormented you for hours upon hours with no desire to give you a break.

“Greedy god,” Sukuna lamented. One hand came to rest on your bruised neck again, fitting around so perfectly. “Nothing’s ever fucking good enough for you.”

“You are.”

That gave Sukuna pause. He stared down at you, all eyes looking over you with rapt attention as he tried to think. Tried to understand. Tried to parse those words and uncover what exactly you tried to convey.

But it didn't click.

“Tch. You're lucky I'm a generous god,” he scolded, releasing you from your torment in favour of collapsing down beside you for some much-needed rest. Not only did your beautiful body wear him out (not that he'd admit it), but your whimsical words wore his sanity thin. The worst part was you didn't even intend to damage him so.

“I am truly honoured to merely be in your presence,” Your voice, light and dreamy as petals fluttering, laughed, and Sukuna's soul did something odd.

He stared at the ceiling as you shuffled beside him, quickly returning to his side, donned in one of his haori and determined to make a comfortable nest of blankets and clothes around you both for the rest of the night–ah, morning? Huh. What an ordeal.

You curled up next to him, shoving your back firmly against his side the way you often did when resting as a fox, and Sukuna huffed.

“Turn to me,” he commanded, and you obeyed.

He, too, turned to face you to envelope your lithe form with invincible arms and divine protection. Your soft purrs rolled through him, settling his wild spirit into a lazy tempo of an early morning stroll through a garden filled with one sort of white orchid:

Brassavola nadosa. “Lady of the Night.” Your calling card. Your divine essence.

"Brassavola nodosa (Lady of the Night) is a medium-sized epiphytic or lithophytic orchid species boasting extremely fragrant flowers throughout the year. The blossoms, 4 in. across (10 cm), emit a citrus fragrance at night. Each flower features long, slender, pale green or creamy-white sepals and petals and a large, heart-shaped lip sometimes adorned with purple or dark red spotting." - gardenia.net

#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x male reader #sukuna x m!reader #sukuna x you #jjk x you #male reader insert #male reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen reader insert #jujutsu kaisen x male reader #jujutsu kaisen x you

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ddollfface · 8 months

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𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭

𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗦𝗶𝗰𝗸!𝗔𝘁𝗵𝗹𝗲𝘁𝗲 𝘅 𝗮𝗳𝗮𝗯!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

"You should stay up, I wanna keep flirting with ya';)))"

Trigger Warnings: reader is describe as "good girl", yandere behaviors, insinuation of abduction, some unwanted groping (not done by yandere), LoveSick!Athlete is delulu, possessiveness, a shit tone of manipulation, talking about LoveSick!Athlete's childhood (it was bad), bad writing, yandere invalidating reader's rightful anger/emotions. If I missed anything, then please let me know ♡ Just a yandere alphabet about my favorite boy. If you want more on him, or having any ideas, then send some requests! Or if you want to see a yandere alphabet for any other characters I've written about, then do that too!! (not proofread btw)

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Okay, so I've touched on how LoveSick!Athlete shows their affection, but to expand on it, he is very, very touchy. He's always gotta hand on ya', never letting you further than a few feet away from him. It's not nessarily out of possesivness as he's pretty laid back as a yandere, but it more so comes from a place of wanting to take care of you. Not in a fatherly way! God no, that gross lol, but it's more so in the way of a husband providing for his wife. He wants to take care of you, watch over you, and just show you that he's the best option for you. He knows he's the best, but he's just gotta make sure that you know that too!

Another factor is that he comes from a very, very big family that's very physical with each other. His mother would always greet him with a hug, she still does now! He's the same. He's very touchy with both his friends and his darling. With his friends, he's patting them on the back, ruffling their hair, or wrestling with them. It's the same with his darling. LoveSick!Athlete is naturally playful, so he'll want to playfight with you. He wants to mess around with you! He wants to hold your hand, loop his arms around your shoulders, and pull you close. LoveSick!Athlete just finds the warmth of another person to be comforting, just knowing that your heart's still beating, and your brain's working puts him at ease.

Now, does it get intense? Well, it depends on the person. Say, you're not a very touchy person and you show your love through other means, then yes, it will be. Being with LoveSick!Athlete will be a constant tug-of-war as he'll have a hard time understanding your boundaries of not wanting to be touched. I mean, you're friends, right? Yeah? So then what's the big deal?

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Surprisingly, he won't get too aggressive with others. He's literally the embodiment of 'wear whatever you want, I'm tall and I can fight', no joke. He doesn't care too much what you wear. If anything, he prefers it, seeing as he gets to show you off to all the losers on campus.

If a guy gets too touchy or makes you uncomfortable, then he'll step in and teach the guy a lesson. He's an athlete, so he's strong and capable of fighting someone. Will he kill someone for you? Sure, depends on the situation. LoveSick!Athlete leans more towards mental forms of manipulation than physical violence. He gets enough of that in the rink too much to be bringing that into his relationship. For a brute, it's surprising how level-headed he is, or how he seems to be.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Hmmm, how do we define "abducted"? 'Cause LoveSick!Athlete doesn't techinically kidnap his darling, instead he slowly isolates them from their social circle, gradually becoming their only safety net. It gets to the point where you'll come over to his house and just never leave.

But let's just say we're counting this as abduction (I do lol), then nothing really changes. LoveSick!Athlete treats you the same. He's still touchy, affectionate, happy, and laid back. He's pretty confident in his ability to convince make you stay with him.

LoveSick!Athlete doesn't do mocking, especially not toward his darling that's reserved for the pigs who perv on you. He's a little more forceful with his affections, only if you aren't behaving like a good girl. If you aren't fitting into his ideal view of a relationship, then he won't be too pleased, but he's patient. He can wear you down.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

He'll force you into a relationship, into giving him affection, etc. Though you don't really realize this until it's too late. The thing with LoveSick!Athlete is that he's a mass manipulator. Honestly, he should get paid for how good he is at it.

LoveSick!Athlete will trick the people around you into believing that you two are in a relationship, not denying any allegations against you two. He'll brag to his teammates that he's got the sweetest girl in the uni. You'll be confused as hell when a bunch of hockey players are sneaking glances at you from the bench, trying to creep a peek at the Captain's new girl. Though he won't tell you, just stating that people must see the chemistry between the two of us. It must be a sign, yeah? And blah, blah, blah.

He'll whisper some sweet words laced in honey, causing your cheeks to grow warm and hands to become clammy. It's the same with affection. When you're just friends, he'll wrap an arm around your shoulder, intertwine your hands with his, and place a hand on the small of your back. All these actions are too small to think anything of, but they just put you off. I mean, it's nothing to get too worked up over.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bear to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

You see, LoveSick!Athlete does love you, no, really. He does, with all his heart, but that thing is that he's used to wearing a mask. He's constantly playing up the "popular jock" stereotype. He has to be cool and get all the ladies. That's just his 'mask', if you will.

But with you, it feels like he can be real, y'know? Of course, this will take time and will likely only happen after he's abducted you and you've figured out all the shit he's been doing behind your back. Once he feels like he's gotten all the hard stuff out of the way, like the threatening, lying, and more, he'll drop the mask. The persona isn't too far different than the real him. The real him is a lot less cocky, more self-assured, and calm. LoveSick!Athlete, the real him, is far less brash and cheeky, instead, he's more sluggish. He acts more like a smitten fool, feeling secure in his relationship with you. Without the mask, he's just a normal dude who wants all your affection. He doesn't know how to handle this overwhelming sense of need he feels for you, the need to provide for you, protect you, and prove himself to you. And this primal need to feel useful is what drives his yandere tendencies.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Meh, he doesn't care too much. If anything, he finds it amusing. He might tease his darling, but not mock them. He'll try to resolve the situation with a level head, trying to calm you down. He'll use different manipulation tactics like gaslighting, guilt-tripping, playing the victim, and more. It all really depends on what you do, honestly. LoveSick!Athlete is a very patient person, surprisingly, so it'll be difficult to make him overly pissed off. You'd have to do something very, very bad.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

Nope, not really. Listen, LoveSick!Athlete wants comfort, he wants you. He wouldn't be pursuing and locking you away providing for you if he didn't see you as a viable partner! That'd be a waste of time, which he doesn't have.

Though, he won't deny that he finds it somewhat amusing when his darling tries to get rid of him. He more so, just wants to know the reasoning behind it, wanting to get in your head. He wants to know how you tick, what makes you think. This way he'll know how to break you down and make you his help you understand his point of view. He also just wants to know who you are.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Hmmm, okay, so this is going to get pretty grim, but reader's worst moment with LoveSick!Athlete would be when he let his teammates rough 'em up. You both had just gotten into an argument, something about you're relationship. Let's just say that you may have claimed screamed that you didn't need him. That you were fine on your own, that maybe, just maybe, you're friendship or relationship, in his eyes, was holding you back, and you may need to see different people.

Obviously, LoveSick!Athlete wasn't pleased with this, but he'd make you stand by your word. You think you don't need him? Okay, fine then. Try it.

And that's what he does. When his teammates, around three of them, begin to crowd you, their hands getting a little grabby, and eyes layered in lust. He doesn't do anything, I mean. Afterall, you don't need him, right? You don't need his protection, yeah? You're a big girl. Act like it then.

He watched as his buddies fondled you, touching you in places only he had. Your eyes flooded with tears, blurring your vision. You called out to him, begging him, wanting him to help you. You confessed, you needed him.

He made you repeat yourself, wanting you say it again. You do. That's all you had to do. Really, it was pretty simple. You need him.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Well, LoveSick!Athlete is a college student, so he's not thinking too far ahead. But he does know that he loves you. He wants you. He wants to be with you for the rest of his life. He wants to get a good job, not in athletics. He's good, obviously, but he knows that it's stupid to grasp at straws, so he's pursuing a program that'll help him get his associate degree.

He doesn't know if he wants kids, yet, but he won't deny that the idea of a mini him and you running around is a nice thought. But you're young. You've got time. Nothin' to rush, yeah?

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

I've already written about this in another post, soooo refer to it right here.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

I'm pretty sure that I've already gone over this in the previous letters, but I can kinda expand on it ig.

LoveSick!Athlete likes to show you off. You're his girl, his ride-ordie, y'know? He's proud of you and your accomplishments. He'll rave to anyone who'll listen, going on and on about your recent successes and such. He'll tell a random cashier about you, proceeding to get yelled at by the old lady behind him. In total, he's a lovesick puppy.

He's clingy but confident at the same time. He has to be touching you at all times, seeing it as his way of showing affection. He buys you things, you sucks up to you, and more. He's the definition of a simp, but he's more laid back. He's not necessarily in your face as he has a chill vibe to him, if that makes sense lol.

Idk really what else to say on that so yeah :)

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

He'll drive off any competition, scaring them off with his broad shoulders, and lean muscles. However, he doesn't really need to scare others off as most people get the hint 'cause he never stops talking about you.

Anyway, he'll force you to study with him, pretending to be stupid so that you'll take pity on him. This way he'll get you talking, wanting to listen to you just speaking. From there he'll ask you out to coffee.

Or he'll suddenly interject himself into your friend group, but no one will question it as he's too smooth. LoveSick!Athlete is very charismatic and a lot of people like him, so they wouldn't think much of it.

Overall, he'll listen to his darling, absorbing everything they say like a sponge. He'll try to see you often, this way you'll be absentmindedly thinking of him. He might even convince some of his buddies to talk about him to you, hyping him up and such. If you have any siblings, then he'll become buddy-buddy with them, especially if they're younger than you both. (He's good with kids btw).

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Literally, talked about this exact thing in letter E lol

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

LoveSick!Athlete doesn't really do punishments, y'know? It's mostly taking away privileges that you've given previously. For example, you'll have your favorite food taken out of the pantry, forcing you to eat oatmeal or something idk. Maybe, he'll take away your phone, make you do a shit tone of push-ups or something like that. The majority of the punishments he does are just inconvenient, nothing too scary.

But that's just for minor things. You try to run away or something, but there are certain things that make him "snap" if you will. Things like hurting yourself, trying to kill him, and insulting how well/well he takes care of you. Like the situation I described in letter H, if you insult it capabilities of providing and taking care of you, then he will spiral. And that won't be fun...

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Nope, out of all my OCS, I would say that LoveSick!Athlete is the most laid back. He doesn't care for too many things. Honestly, he's probably the best yandere to have if you're a brat. He'll humor you instead of squashing you, even though he could easily do so.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

I've already gone over this multiple times throughout this post. Lovesick!Athlete has the patience of an angel, which is surprising due to how aggressive he is in the rink.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

No, God no, he'll shut himself out. He'd likely quit his sport and never play away. He wouldn't be able to enter a rink again, there's no way. If you were to somehow die, then he'd fall into a manic depression, all of his patience wearing away slowly. He wouldn't know what to do with himself. When you were with him, he knew what he wanted in life. He had a picture of you and him, together with a little boy. The baby would've had your eye shape and his hair, dark curls. His whole life was there, just right there in his reach.

But say you were to successfully escape, he'd immediately going to try to find you. He knows that you wouldn't be able to go to the police, he's not stupid. He knows how to cover his steps, besides, he's a master manipulator. He's probably ruined your mental fortitude and he can do the same to the cops.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

No, not really. He doesn't believe that he abducted you, instead, he thinks that he just convinced you. That he just led you down the right path, to him. Everything does is fueled by his love for you, all he wants to do is be happy with you. That's all.

Sometimes he'll feel a little remorseful if his darling begins to close themselves up and lock him out (metaphorically), but he doesn't process the abduction as being the reasoning for the behavior. He just thinks that you're going through something, there's no way that he could be the problem, right?

He does feel bad, as he does have feelings, but he just doesn't associate your negative reactions/emotions with his actions.

And, about letting his darling go, no he wouldn't. He doesn't think he's holding them hostage in the first place! He just believes that he's keeping the relationship thriving. He doesn't think that your relationship is toxic (despite the constant gaslighting he puts you through), so he just wants to mend your relationship. I mean, just talk to him, there's no reason to be so rash!

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Let's just say that LoveSick!Athlete didn't have a father in the home, causing him to drift away from his family and spiral (at certain times). He never grew up in the most stable home, money was tight, and his mama was exhausted, having to care for four kids and all. And seeing his mama struggle so much caused him to want to be a provider, someone his loved ones could call for help. He wants to be the breadwinner, the person keeping you safe (both physical and monetarily).

The only problem is that he...well... doesn't really know what a healthy relationship looks like, seeing as his mama was never in one. Before his pa left (when he was two), he would beat his mama and siblings. Though LoveSick!Athlete doesn't really remember, as was just a babe at the time, y'know?

After that, his mama never stayed in one relationship for very long, besides him mama also wasn't the most stable person. She had BPD (Bipolar disorder), so she'd always have high highs and low low, never staying emotionally stable. Though LoveSick!Athlete doesn't have BPD, he did inherit some of his mama's habits, from watching her maneuver in her relationships.

Her habits imprinted on him, and let's just say that they weren't the healthiest thing in the world. This is where he got his good manipulation skills. At this point in his life, LoveSick!Athlete absentmindingly will use manipulation to get what he wants. Love bombing and gaslighting seem to be his main tactics he uses on others. (if people want to know more, then I'm totally open to an in-depth of his crappy childhood)

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Refer to letter R for this)))

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere

Noun. yandere (plural yanderes) (chiefly Japanese fiction) A character, usually a girl, who has an obsessive and possessive side in regards to their crush, ready to use violent and murderous means to maintain an exclusive bond. This is what google defines as a yandere and I'm going to use this as my basis for this question. Now, LoveSick!Athlete differs from this definition in the last part. He doesn't really resort to violent or murderous tendencies, instead using his manipulation skills to keep you close.

He doesn't feel the need to get violent, seeing as he's the best (in his mind). Don't get me wrong, he will if he needs to, but usually not.

I suppose that's something makes him different. Another thing is that he's very, very lenient with his darling, never putting too many boundaries on their shoulders. In his mind, he's in a normal relationship with you, meaning he doesn't need to act super crazy. Though he won't hesitate to take this privileges away from you, so just behave like a good girl, yeah?

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

The fact that he let's you go out into put freely or, more so, how many privileges you get. It's really easy to escape, no joke. But the only problem is that he has connections. Though he's only in college, and he's young, he has a lot of connections through his athletic scholarship and such. He knows a lot of people, due to his charisma (or rizz lol) and they're all under his thumb.

So it's easy to get out, but staying out is the hard part 'cause he'll hunt you like a dog on a misson.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Maybe he'll grip you too tight or give ya' a little spanking (if you know what I mean pffttt), but he'd never lay a hand on you. He wouldn't cut you, stab you, or anything like that. Nope. He watched his mama get hurt far too many times.

He just wants to be your protector, not your abuser. Though he can get a little out of hand. If you were to ever accuse him, or just plainly call his a woman beater, abuser, etc. etc. then he'll go a little... crazy?

He wants to feel needed, loved, and cared for, so if you start going on about how you don't need him, then he may be a tiny bit mad. Situations like the ones I talked about in letter H will happen far more often if you take this sentiment.

If you don't realize that you need him, then he might need to make you realize it. Of course, he won't be touching you so violently, but that doesn't mean he won't get someone else to do it for him.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

He doesn't worship his darling, but he does respect you. He sees you as his equal. If he didn't, then he wouldn't even be pursuing you. He wouldn't be spending so much time tyring to get with, going through all the work to infiltrate your life, and make you notice him. He doesn't have time for that, but he's making time just. for. you.

Now, how far would he go for you? I don't think he'd murder someone, he'd just rough them up, make them know their place. He doesn't really do violence, preferring public humiliation and underhanded tactics. He'll threaten people, blackmail them, and just plain gaslight them. He won't go any farther than that, unless he's provoked I suppose. Like if it's a dire situation where you, or him, need defending, then he's more than capable of putting a guy six feet under.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

As long as it takes, baby. He's young, you're young, you're both young. You guys have time to waste, time to life and such. You're both in college, so he thinks that he's got time to convince you, to reel you into his arms.

I've said this previously, but he's very patient. He's willing to wait if it's for you. But something that would make him snap is if you try to move away, though this won't push him to kidnap your necessarily, it'll just put him on edge. He'll begin to be more forward with his advances if this were to happen.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Accidently? Maybe. Purposefully? God, no. I'm even skeptical about the accident part, I don't think he can break you. He's far to calm and gentle of a yandere to break his darling.

You'd have to get him really, really mad for something drastic to happen. Even then, compared to other yanderes, it's not even that bad. Or that's what he tells you at least.

#𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡'𝙨 𝙮𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚'𝙨 #𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙠!𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙡𝙚𝙩𝙚 #yandere oc #yandere x you #yandere x reader #x reader #afab reader #lovesick #bad writing #obsessive love #yandere alphabet #yandere male #long post #tw; toxic love #manipulation #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc x you #god this took foreverrr

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randomshyperson · 9 months

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I Wanna Be Yours - Heart Shaped Series

Chapter Summary: Once again separated, Wanda calls and brings news that changes everything, whether for better or for worse, it's still too early to say.

Warnings: (+18), making out, shapeshifting smut, intimate and unprotected s*x, creampie, fingering (both), slightly power dynamics, fluff and mild angst, avengers fighting like a family, brief mention of violence and injuries, some humor. | Words: 7.087k

A/N-> Am I getting too addicted to writing Shapeshifter Reader? Maybe. What can I do, it's so fun. Also, this is kinda late 'cause I spend the whole weekend watching Orphan Black (it's amazing). I hope you all like this, it took me some time, good reading!

General Masterlist | Wattpad | AO3 | Series Masterlist

-&-

Limping and bleeding, you kept moving. The suspenders of your uniform were unbuttoned and hanging around your waist, and you grunted in pain as you leaned against the wall of the secure apartment, needing a moment to overcome your fatigue to open the door.

Cleaning the wound in silence was the worst part; your powers were messed up by the whole thing, and even though you tried to change, the blood kept coming out and you were forced to find a sewing kit and solve the problem.

Half an hour later, on the living room carpet still trying to stop shaking, your cell phone rang.

You thought it was Valentina, wanting to know if the whole thing had worked out. You almost cursed under your breath, this checking habit of hers always irritated you; the jobs always worked out, especially if the payment was made in advance. You were a professional, and the attitude carried an insinuation that you would fail, and if Valentina continued with it, perhaps it would be better for her to find someone else for the job.

But in a way, you knew that all this lack of patience had other reasons: with every stray bullet, every insult, and more difficult fight, you wondered what was the point of it all. You remembered Wanda Maximoff smiling at you, kissing you, and started to wonder if taking all that risk was worth anything, especially when crime made it so difficult to have moments with that witch who wouldn't leave your thoughts.

And as if guessing, it was Wanda calling. You smiled immediately, feeling a little excited for the first time that morning.

It had been so long since you heard her voice. After everything that unfolded with the Avengers splitting up and being chased, and this latest intense mission which, despite being very well paid, made it practically impossible for you to visit her. At last, Wanda was calling.

"Little witch." You greeted as soon as you picked up, only to hear a heavy sigh on the other end that made you frown in confusion. "Wanda?"

She sniffled, and you ignored the pain in your body to sit up straight. "I have to tell you something."

"Is everything all right? Are you hurt? Are you with your friends?"

"Detka, please." She interrupts you. "Just listen, okay?"

"Wanda, you're scaring me."

"I'm all right." She assures you straight away. "I'm safe, I promise. But I have... to tell you something. And I need you not to freak out, because I'm scared and if you get scared too, I don't think I can manage."

You sigh uncertainly, but end up agreeing. "I'm listening."

It takes Wanda a whole moment where the only sound is her breathing on the line. Until finally; "I think I'm pregnant." Your immediate reaction is to frown in a mixture of confusion and surprise. You don't say anything because you don't know what to say, and your silence makes Wanda sniffle again. "You have to say something."

You open your mouth, only to let out a short, nervous laugh. "I know, I just... I don't know what."

Wanda sighs, looking like she's trying to control her emotions. "Okay, I didn't expect, well I don't know what I expected. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do, we, I can take care of this and then-"

"Wait, what?" you interrupt. "Wanda, take a deep breath, okay? Just give me a second to think." You struggle to get to your feet, and with the injury, let out an involuntary grunt of pain.

Wanda grips the phone tightly. "Where are you? Are you hurt?"

You chuckle weakly. "It's nothing, I've taken care of it."

"Detka..."

"No, that's kind of funny actually." You continue, stumbling around the apartment after your suitcase. "And I don't say this to worry you, love, but I've barely made it out of this mission. I'm losing my touch, I guess, or maybe I just don't want this anymore. And when I was shot, I just had this really sad thought that if I died on that island, no one would care. The shooter would probably be very glad, and my boss would be annoyed at losing money but would surely find someone else for the job. What I'm trying to say is that I had no reason to get up, but then I thought, if I die here, my little witch will see my picture in the news and I don't want to go without saying goodbye. Wanda deserves at least a goodbye. So I got up, shot a few more assholes, and managed to escape to this dingy apartment and sewed myself back together, all the while wondering if this is what I really want to do with my life. The answer is no, Wanda. I don't want to have hundreds of people targeting me and risk my safety for a handful of jewels or whatever other shit I have to steal from narcissistic billionaires scattered around the world. I just want to lie next to you, and watch you laugh at some joke on TV, or have meals next to you and kiss you, you know? And now you call me, to give me the best news in the world over the goddam phone. That's not how it should be." You zipper up a suitcase with a few changes of clothes safely inside. "My only purpose is to be with you, Wanda Maximoff. I don't want to have this conversation miles away from you, so just hold on. I’ll come to you.”

This time, you know she's crying with happiness. She laughs tearfully as she says, "I'll be waiting, detka. Don't be long."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

Not surprisingly, the hardest part was getting to Wanda. Being a fugitive in the majority of nations has its disadvantages. It took almost two whole weeks for you to finally arrive at the address Wanda texted you, and unfortunately, you were late.

Only a very angry black widow was there to welcome you.

"I'm going to kill that girl." Nat declared as soon as she laid eyes on you. You tried to wave but ended up jumping in fright when a man's hand touched your shoulder.

Steve Rogers and his nomad beard chuckled at your reaction. "You shouldn't be here, kid."

Recovering from the shock, you grimaced and pushed his hand away with a pat. "Don't kid me, Mr. America. And this is a free country, I can be wherever I want."

Nat chuckled, a hologram coming out from her watch reflecting brightly in the dimly lit room. The Avengers needed better safe houses, not even in your first years of crime did you stay in such a crappy loft.

"That's a great one coming from an Interpol fugitive." He sneers back, but you lift your chin proudly.

"And what's it like being in this position? Have you come down off the moral high ground or do you still think you're better than the rest of us, Rogers?" You challenge, and although you sigh, Steve surprises you.

He chuckles, shaking his head. "She's just like Wanda." He says to Nat from across the room, who clicks her tongue.

"Yep, same punk-ass attitude." Grumbles the widow, but despite the grimace, it sounds more like a compliment than a curse. "I can't believe Wanda thought it was acceptable for her to share the location with anyone."

You snort incredulously. "I'm not 'anyone', Romanoff! I'm her…girlfriend!"

Nat rolls her eyes, ignoring your protest and Steve steps out of the doorway to approach his friend. "So Nat, is the place clean?"

The widow forces a smile. "Apart from the shapeshifter intruder, yes. We've left no clues behind. And considering the agent's new agenda, we're going to have a peaceful few weeks for the time being. Wilson and Maximoff can stop moving for a while."

"Good news at last." Steve commented, but you cleared your throat.

"Any chance of me catching a ride to the place Wanda won't have to flee from?" You ask, and their expression doesn't give you any more confidence. "Okay, I'll wait for her to give me the address and I'll go by myself."

Nat chuckles incredulously, taking a step forward. "It's astonishing how irresponsible you two are." She says. "I know it must be hard for you to think of anyone but yourself, but you need to stop putting her at risk."

You snort. "The only astonishing thing here is your judgment, Romanoff. Acting like you were born a hero. Have you forgotten everything you did before the Avengers or Shield?" You retort. "You're no better than me."

But Nat snorts, nodding. "The difference is that I never had a choice. I was trained from birth for it, I didn't know any other life until Barton and Fury gave me a chance. You revel in chaos."

You don't lose posture, even as emotion begins to rise in your chest. "You know nothing about me."

"But we know about Wanda." Steve interrupts the conversation, as accusatory as the widow. "After everything that happened in Sokovia, she's our responsibility. Our family. It's not something anyone who isn't an Avenger can understand. And I know that she was vulnerable with the loss of her brother and that you took advantage of it."

You take a step forward, shocked by such a low accusation. "Take that back! I would never-"

"Oh, cut it out." Steve insists. "We all know about the kind of work you do, manipulation and lies are your specialties. Your signature is to deceive." He accuses, and for the first time, Nat flinches. Because the whole conversation could easily be handed back to her, and perhaps already has been by other people. "What's all this about? What do you want from Wanda?"

"Not everything is about work. Maybe I just fucking love her!"

Steve laughs incredulously. "Oh please-" But Nat interrupts the whole thing with an annoyed snort.

"That's enough, both of you."

The captain looks at her with some surprise. "Come on Natasha, you don't really believe she's serious." He is careful to lower his tone, like a private conversation between the two of them, an almost silent agreement about letting you go or not. Still, in that empty place, it's easy to hear what they're saying. "Weren't you the one who always says that love is for children?"

The joke is not well received. Natasha takes on a hard expression as she faces Steve. "Do you really want to discuss this, Rogers? When we're all risking our necks over your feelings for Barnes?"

Steve steps away dumbfounded. "It's not like that! We're freeing someone innocent! The right thing-"

"Would be to bring him to justice." Natasha interrupts without losing her tone. "The morally and legally right thing would be to bring the person responsible for 100 years of crimes to justice. There's no other answer, no other way around it. But he's family, and you're family. And that's why I'm here, and all the others who will stand by your side and go against the law and risk their necks, jobs, and safety. Things aren't as black and white as this right and wrong discourse and by now I'd hoped you'd be able to recognize that better, Steve."

He looks away, embarrassed and thoughtful. Nat sighs and takes the opportunity to approach you again.

"I can give you a ride. Just don't make me regret it, okay?"

For the moment, that's all Natasha offers in solidarity with you. It's the kindest thing an Avenger - excluding Wanda of course - has ever given you. It instantly makes Nat your favorite.

Steve doesn't accompany you two to the safe place. He says he needs time to think, and from the looks he exchanges with Nat, it's not hard to deduce that he's going after the Winter Soldier. You don't know where Sergeant Barnes is, but you have the impression that they do. It's not your place to question or monitor Steve Rogers' movements, so you just respond to the polite nod of farewell he gives you.

He takes the stolen airship, which is a shame because you love riding in those - Valentina's vehicles were never that sophisticated, but you've already managed to steal one of those from Shield and the ride was a lot of fun until you had to dispose of the aircraft in the Caribbean.

Natasha gets a truck, which makes you assume that the location can't be that far away. It's an incorrect conclusion because she comments on buying train tickets.

You fall asleep in your seat. That must win you some points with Nat, who is surprised that you trust her enough to sleep because when you wake up from a very nice dream with Wanda, she starts small talk.

Accords, favorite crimes, and the morally superior attitude of some agents. Natasha giggles at one of your stories - about getting compromising items from government leaders - and you consider it a personal victory. She herself has stories about missions from her time as Black Widow which, if you don't consider the horror of her childhood, were kind of amusing. It's probably that you're the only person Nat can tell these things to without any kind of judgment. Equal to equal.

She's almost at the nearest station when, at the signal, she surprises you completely.

"I know about the baby."

You blink at her surprised eyes. "Did she tell you?"

But Nat denies it, without taking her gaze off the road now that the two of you are reaching a busier area. Even with the different appearance, the blonde hair being something to get used to, she has to be careful.

"They ran tests before admitting her to the raft. With all of us that they managed to capture at the airport, in fact." says the widow. "It was to categorize skills, check for injuries, but they ended up finding something else."

You sigh, also paying attention to the surroundings and any curious civilians who risk looking inside the vehicle. Everyone seems busy with their own problems, but you also check the streetlights for surveillance cameras.

"She must have been so scared." You whisper, and the guilt surprises Nat. You swallow dry before adding: "I should have been with her."

"What happened, happened. It wasn't really an outsider's fault."

You smile sadly, it's not exactly reassuring, Natasha doesn't seem to be very good at these things, but she's kind enough. She means that the Avengers' fight was something between them and that it wouldn't make sense for you to blame yourself for Wanda's imprisonment. Even so, you feel you could have prevented it if you'd convinced her to run away with you. But again, how different would the life you could offer her would be?

"When I heard about the Raft, she was already gone." You say. "I guess I should thank you for being so fast in getting her out."

Nat chuckles briefly, turning the steering wheel towards the streets beyond the parking lot. This car will probably be abandoned there.

"It wasn't me who got her out, so no." Retorts the widow. "You must have seen the fight on television, the way we were divided." She waited for you to nod in agreement before continuing. "The team that was left standing, Tony’s side I suppose, helped capture the others. Fighting with Steve. But when the tests were done, General Ross got very nervous. He was afraid the story would leak, and the image of a young terrorist that the media had planted would turn against him, now that it was a pregnant woman being beaten and handcuffed in front of the cameras. His anxiety alerted the others, and well, Stark may be many things, but as soon as he knew the truth, he got her out of there. Vision confirmed the whole thing, he's got some scanning abilities or something. And I think they come up with some story and Vision was supposed to chase her after the vehicle she was in left the route, but Wanda was never found by Ross again. I know Vision and Tony help her. And then she was the first of us to catch up with Steve."

Natasha parks the car. She almost thinks you're busy absorbing the story when you pull something out of your pocket and hold it out to her.

"It was sent to me while I was in Greece. I guess this is my way of making us even." In your hand is the file of a job you rejected a few weeks ago. To track and recover a package of stolen vials, of a defector last seen in Morocco. Unknown contractor, but payment of half a million dollars in advance.

"You should have taken it, the money was good." Nat commented as she grabbed the photo of the vials attached to a small one of her face with her hair still red, carrying market bags somewhere in Norway, the place where the last trace and possible suspect was seen.

You gave her a short smile, now that Nat had parked the car, she busied herself flipping through the old file.

"I missed my chance." You mutter. "What about you, Romanoff? Did you miss yours?"

She mimics your smile, shaking her head. "No. This time, I finished off the bastards." She assures you, nodding. "I didn't get the chance to kill Dreykov myself, but someone who deserved it more did it for me."

You nod, respecting Natasha's choice not to delve deeper into that painful subject. You know just enough about the Red Room, and one of the few things is that General Dreykov was the leader and that Romanoff should have killed him years before. If she did it now, the mission must have been to put an end to the whole thing.

"I kept monitoring Ross, after everything that happened. I heard you made a fool of him when you ran off alone from the team he set up for you."

She shrugged, a smile hiding the pride of her own abilities. From the car, you took only a backpack that she had prepared, and you weren't surprised to see Natasha take out a lighter and burn the files before throwing them in the nearest garbage can.

Side by side and with your heads down, you walked to the station.

-&-

Wanda has a bit of a meltdown. It's the hormones, you're sure of it.

She jumps on your neck, expelling a sort of magical wave of excitement that makes you almost too cocky to recognize how happy she is to see you.

Natasha gets worried because the windows rattle and the last thing anyone needs is to draw more attention to themselves. She and Sam exchange a quick nod, and the widow mumbles something about the two of them heading out to restock supplies and you know it's a favor so you and Wanda have time to talk alone. The Falcon is confused by the whole thing, and you hear some distant questions along the lines of "Since when do we call the bad guys to the team" before Natasha closes the door.

Not that Sam Wilson's opinions are worth anything when Wanda pulls your face to hers and kisses you with all the longing she's been feeling.

It's passionate and intense and makes your heart soar. You break into a dopey smile like hers, nearly dizzy with love to the point of not being able to say anything. Wanda, as close as humanly possible, speaks first in a husky tone:

"You took your time."

The teasing makes you smile, and without stopping smiling, you start playing with the loops of her jeans.

"Sorry, darling, you changed your address too quickly. You're getting good at this fugitive life, aren't you, Maximoff?" Your question almost goes unanswered when you decide to make a path of chaste kisses from her cheeks to jaw and to her neck. Wanda sighs affectedly, trying to keep her eyes open.

One of her hands goes to your hair, and she giggles when she feels it grow a few centimeters between her fingers. You nibble her ear before looking her in the eye and are greeted by dilated, curious pupils.

"Why have you changed?" she asks quietly, her fingers still assessing the new length of your hair.

You scrunch up your nose, a gesture that has become habitual with the witch snuggled up to you. "I'm just following your friend's safety tips." You explain casually. "All I need is a cap and sunglasses and my Avenger disguise is complete."

Wanda snorts good-naturedly, knowing full well that you're making fun of the bad disguise she was wearing when you two first met. To be fair, Natasha has always believed that the simplest is the most effective, and so far, most Avengers have managed to go unnoticed with just glasses and a cap, no matter how ridiculous it may seem.

"Maybe I should follow her example." Wanda then comments, and although she seems to be focused on what she's saying, you're surprised to realize that her hands have reached down to remove your belt. "What if I get some blue highlights?"

Your laugh is a little hoarse and distracted because Wanda has thrown the belt into some corner of the apartment and is pulling you both backward, probably to where her bedroom should be.

"I guess you either go big or go home."

She hums thoughtfully, perhaps making some mental note of the matter. You're more focused on the way she slips her hands inside your blouse and scratches your stomach, biting her lip as she feels your muscles twitch.

Wanda closes the bedroom door with her foot, and you don't put up any resistance to feeling her lips on yours, hungry and impatient this time.

The kisses are too hot for you to think coherently, but you hear the last remnants of reason to hold a half-naked Wanda by the waist.

She, as breathless as you, looks at you with some concern and confusion at the interruption.

"Is something wrong?" Wanda asks hoarsely.

You swallow dry, your hands on her waist. "It's okay, it's just..." And suddenly, you seem very shy. You can feel your cheeks flushing, and maybe you should force your body not to have this kind of reaction, but you never do that with Wanda. You don't have to hide things from her. She looks at you expectantly, her hands caressing your shoulders as a way of reassuring you. "Hm, I was wondering, are we supposed to be doing this when you're...." And you looked down a little, at her belly, until Wanda understood.

She broke into a shy giggle, then looked up at you. "Oh, darling, you're so adorable." She declares, stealing a kiss before tenderly explaining; "It's still early, very early. I imagine it's only going to start being a problem towards the end, and well, I'm going to be a nervous, angry, horny mess by then and I think you'd better not dare deny me that kind of relief!"

You nod foolishly, panting that you will certainly do whatever she wants. Wanda's face takes on a new color, and she bites back a smile, her eyes darkening.

"Whatever I want? I like the sound of that." She retorts, leaning in to break the distance again. The next kiss is almost a shut-up, charged with naughty intentions. She sucks on your tongue and you practically whimper. It's such a submissive sound that it surprises you both for a moment. "Oh, moya lyubov (my love), parenthood has turned you into a whiny mess..."

You groan in a mixture of embarrassment and arousal, turning your face away. "And it made you quite mean, apparently."

She doesn't allow you to be grumpy. She grabs your chin and pulls off your pout with a kiss that's dirtier than the last. You can only moan in response, and when Wanda determinedly gropes her way into your pants, not bothering with foreplay, and is greeted by a dampness so massive it could be embarrassing, it's she who breaks into a moan.

"Fuck, I almost forgot how damn hot you feel on my fingers." You even try to regain some control of the kiss, to get that cocky attitude out of your girlfriend, but there's no way to do it when Wanda sinks two fingers inside you, as deep as the position allows. All that rips through your lips is a throaty moan. Wanda giggles mischievously at your reactions. "I really can't choose, baby. Having you squeezing my fingers or buried inside me. If you can keep up the pace, do you think we could try the second one later?"

It wasn't really a difficult request to comply with - until it was, because Wanda was more insatiable than usual. The first orgasm on the armchair was not even close to being enough for her. Neither for you, to be fair.

Wanda seemed to have discovered something new - a dominant attitude that you both hadn't yet explored. As far as you're concerned, whatever Wanda wishes will work for you. You're there to please her, simple as that.

She seems to have no restrictions on the ways this can happen. With her fingers deep inside you, her tongue swirling across your clit or changing positions, and sitting on your face and coming messily until she's squirming all over the sheets.

She already came four times when you sense a change of attitude, and the connection between you and her is so intimate, that Wanda has barely adjusted herself on the bed and you're already hugging her from behind, your arms around her and your mouth busy marking her neck. She gives you a sleepy smile, looking truly ruined for the first time all night. It suddenly occurs to you that she'll tire more easily now.

You kiss behind her ear and adjust your hips. Wanda sighs as she feels the familiar hardness rubbing up against her ass.

"Don't tell me you don't have some energy saved up for your own challenge?" You tease next to her ear, grinding gently into her. The friction elicits heavy sighs from both of you, and Wanda grabs your hand that rests on her belly before entwining your fingers together.

“Just one more, dorogoy (sweetheart).” She whispers as she guides your hands into her chest. Your free one helps yourself fit into her, and the same moment you grope her naked breast, playing with the hard nipple, you bury your cock inside her. Wanda lets out a sinful moan, her velvet walls welcoming you with a breathtaking heat. You nearly came with the mere state of being inside her - the way she squeezes you takes you off orbit for a moment.

You wanna be gentle, she’s a pregnant lady for god’s sake. But it seems that Wanda expects just the opposite the second you move - She takes the lead of the movements, your hips serving as a lever for her to rock back into your cock. You have to bite her shoulder to keep yourself from coming, and her response is to hold your hand thingly against her breasts, a single request for you to keep stimulating her nipples.

There’s no way to keep this peace for long - Wanda herself feels her body betraying her a short moment after, the deep strokes of your cock taking her to blinding pleasure now for her to do more than drool into her pillow. You found a sweet spot and she arches her back, a new wave of arousal dripping down her thighs.

She struggles to catch a breath - trying to tell you she's close. There’s no need, really. You can feel the tightness increasing, and it’s impossible for you to hold it when Wanda finally comes. She cries out your name and her body goes stiff the next second. Your cum stays inside her, just like your cock.

“That was… fuck…” She tries to form a thought, all tingly, with numb, tingling legs. You kiss her shoulder, slowly rocking your hips only to hear her soft protest. “Too much, babe.”

After so many orgasms, that’s not a surprise. But Wanda feels so tender, it’s so addictive. You move a hand down, to play with her clit between her fingers and she can’t help but whine.

“Who’s the whiny mess, now?” You tease and Wanda's attempt at response turns into a deep groan when you thrust into her powerfully, enough to shake the bed. She chokes into a moan next when you start to catch a rhythm. Your fingers, toying with her neglected clit almost bring her to insanity.

The next climax comes faster than the last, and it’s harder. You have your face buried in her neck, your bodies entangled together as you move inside her. Wanda presses her face into her pillow when she comes, pleasure tears wetting the bed like her squirt. You groan against her skin when you fill her up this time, balls deep into her.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Your rusky moans in her ear prolong her climax - she can feel herself squeezing the emptiness when you pull out. A mess of white cum coming out from both of you. It’s such a dirty sexual act to stroke yourself a little longer, to spread out every drop of your pleasure into her skin.

Everything, every drop, belongs to Wanda. It’s all hers, because of her.

Suddenly, she wishes she could do the same. Fill you up too, and own every version of your pleasure. This thought is written into her brain and pushed away so she can call your name. Your warm arms are around her before she can miss them.

“I should get you clean up.” You whisper and she holds closer.

“Later.” It’s all she whispers back, being defeated by her exhaustion next.

You kiss the top of her forehead once she falls asleep, a smile on your lips before you allow yourself to give up on the tiredness as well.

-&-

If it hadn't been for the memories of last night and the sweet scent you knew, your natural reaction would have been to jump away in alarm at the soft caress in her hair. But you knew it was Wanda, and instead of running away, you sank your face against her neck and felt her giggle slightly, her heart racing before settling down.

She adjusted a little a minute later, and with a husky voice in your ear, whispered; "You have to get up, darling. We should talk."

Despite the soft tension that rose in your shoulders, Wanda's request was really just that. As a matter of course, it made you almost displeased that she would hold something like that back so as not to bother you.

You hummed in agreement and placed a chaste kiss on her neck before pulling away. Wanda watched you expectantly, but you just stretched and pulled the covers off as if nothing important needed to be discussed.

She couldn't contain her own anxiety. "Are we going to talk now?"

You chuckled briefly, glancing at her for a second before looking around the room for your clothes. "I think we need to eat something first."

"Y/N..."

"I'm not avoiding the conversation." You interrupt her sincerely, to reassure the fears she can't hide from her eyes. You offer her a smile, your hands clutching the pants you've just found. "I'm just hungry. And I know you are too. This isn't an unpleasant topic, Wanda, it's just going to be difficult. For obvious reasons." You gesture softly, signaling to the hideaway room, so different from the fancy one she lived in in the tower. By instinct or not, once your pants are on, you also gently stroke the knife scar on your abdomen. Wanda knows exactly what you mean. "I think we're going to need a real plan. But I really don't want to come up with one on an empty stomach."

She nods, trying to smile but almost grimacing. Wanda is so nervous. All the passion of last night and the excitement of meeting you again are now calming down, and reality is coming back to her. You finish dressing and offer one last smile of reassurance before leaving the room in search of something to eat, and Wanda's immediate reaction is to put a hand over her belly.

She gasps softly. Her magic is able to feel life growing there. Her eyes fill with tears.

Looking around, she spots some mold on the walls. She notices some of Natasha's stolen surveillance equipment tucked away in a corner so they can track the agents and breaks down a sob.

How could she let this happen? How could she be so irresponsible as to think of having children in such a condition? Even before, she no longer had a home. Living with the Avengers was almost a favor, an employment contract. And what kind of mother could she be in a superhero routine anyway?

And on top of everything, her child won't be able to meet her uncle either, buried in a land she once called home.

Wanda only realizes she's in the middle of an anxious thoughts spiral because suddenly a voice is calling her name. Your face comes into focus again, and she realizes that you're trying to help her breathe.

Great, a panic attack was all she needed.

"Hey, baby, it's okay, I'm here with you. Just breathe, okay?" you guided, gesturing for her to imitate your breathing. In a corner of the room, a breakfast tray smelled very good. Wanda tried to follow your lead, naming five objects she could see. She could see eggs, bacon, waffles, and orange juice. She could see a shiny chain with a small ring around your neck.

"Where did you get this?" She asks breathlessly about the item, and you smile pleased to see that she is coming to her senses.

"China, three years ago. I was working at the time, and I had a bad habit of keeping souvenirs." You say, stroking her hair. "It was in my pocket, and I put it back while I was in the kitchen. That's why you didn't get a chance to see it last night. Do you like it?"

She hums in agreement, having to close her eyes for a moment. You wait, wiping away her tears until Wanda has calmed down completely.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." She starts as soon as she can speak without crying. You mumble that it's okay, but Wanda keeps talking. "I just started thinking about how we're going to do this. How are we going to raise a child in this kind of life? We don't even have a home, let alone money. What if I end up in prison again, and they want to take my baby away and-"

"Wanda, calm down, nothing like that is going to happen." You interrupt but she shakes her head.

Just a second later, she breaks into a sob. "I'm so scared." She confesses tearfully.

You look into her eyes.“I’m scared too.” You confess in the same, a relief laugh escaping your lips now that you’re both being honest with each other for good. “I’m nearly petrified, to be fair. But it’s alright, Wanda. It is. Because for the first time in my life, I am not alone. I have you and you have me, and as luck would have it, a bunch of grumpy superheroes as well. We don’t have to be so scared, we got this. I’m here for you, sweetheart.”

She sniffles, getting shy all of a sudden. Her gaze goes to her lap before she finds your eyes again. And then she whispers: “I love you.”

You blink widened eyes at her, caught off guard. Wanda swallows, but then she smiles. She never needed words anyway; Your actions towards each other were always more than enough, not only for her but for the whole world to see exactly how much you cared for one another.

“You don't have to say anything-”

“I love you too.” You cut her out, a bit out of breath. Wanda can feel her cheeks growing pink and it doesn’t help that yours are doing the same. But you giggle shyly then, letting her go to cover your red face for a moment. “Shit, why does that feel so weird? My chest is so warm…” Your reaction elicits a hearty chuckle from her.

“Perhaps you’re allergic to love confessions.” She teases, receiving a playful warning stare before you bring your arms around her once more, to pull her closer and on your lap. Wanda doesn’t waste time in pressing her lips to yours, smiling into the kiss like yourself.

You break apart to tell her: “Don’t get so cocky, but you’re the first person I said that to.” She hums contently, her fingers playing with the hair on your nape. You stare at her eyes for a moment, just memorizing every aspect of her face as if she would ever leave your mind, until both of you are scrunching up your noses, making funny faces at each other and breaking into shared giggles the next.

You could marry her, right now at that second. Instead of asking, you just let out a deep breath and hug her again. The atmosphere of the room changed to a comfortable so intimate that for a second, you could believe that dirty hideout room was actually a home.

"We’re gonna be alright, Wanda." You whisper next. “I won’t let anything bad ever happen to you again.”

She sighs, breaking the hug to look at you. Her soft hands caressing your cheeks. “You can’t promise that, and it’s okay. Because I love you and I can do anything with you here.”

You kiss her briefly. “I can promise. I just did, the universe can fuck off, I’ll stand by my girl.” It’s your stubborn response before you break the distance again to kiss her.

For the first time in a long while, Wanda doesn’t feel so scared. She trusts you entirely, even if your promise is impossible and the future holds a nearly dangerous uncertainty. You’ll take care of her and she’ll do the same for you.

She allows herself to push away real life, at least during breakfast. Sharing food in bed, giggling like two love-stuck teenagers. Making love in her bed all day, whispering sweet nothing to each other.

Until it’s time to get up and face reality.

Despite the evidence of your previous activities - matching set of hickeys and borrowed clothes - none of the Avengers pay any mind to that. Sam is clearly getting used to your presence, but he offers a grin at Wanda’s state before focusing on Natasha’s repeating security tips for him.

The widow is about to ask you and Wanda for a chat, you both can see in her expression that she wants to know how the whole baby thing will work out from now on when her cell phone rings. She steps out for a moment, muttering to whoever is on the other side - Wilson tells Wanda that’s probably Steve wanting to share locations and wondering if everything is alright. But when Natasha comes back to the room, she’s tense and serious.

She takes a deep breath and looks at Wanda.

“Clint decided to make a deal. For his family.” She says. Doesn’t take much explanation for you or Sam to understand that the Feds got him and instead of going back to the raft, he got himself some special conditions considering his service history. Wanda, out of surprise or denial, stares back at Nat with confused eyes. The widow sighs. “He’s not coming back.”

You don’t know everything about the Avengers dynamics, but you know about Wanda. And how much she cared for Clint since the man was some sort of mentor for her. That and well, Pietro gave his life for him so that has to mean something. Clint was supposed to take care of Wanda, not just turn his back on her like that. She didn’t need to join the team or this fight, but she did, at his request, and now he didn’t even bother to look after her, to make sure she was safe and well before taking deals that wouldn’t allow them to see each other for quite some time.

The saddest part is that Wanda understands it. Family comes first, after all. So even though it made her sick to her stomach, she wasn’t his daughter. Not really.

“It’s okay.” She forces a smile, trying to look “okay” for Natasha’s pitiful eyes. “Seriously, Nat. It’s fine. I hope it was a good one. Maybe Sam should try it too, he has family as well.”

Wanda is clearly taking the focus out of her, and because you can see her shaking, you take her hand. She instinctively leans into you, finding some calming comfort in your heat.

Sam scratches behind his head, a little unsure of how he became the center of attention suddenly. “Hm, yeah, but… I should wait a little. I mean, my sister is fine. She has nothing to do with any of this, so I think she can manage to be without my help for a few more weeks.”

Natasha merely shakes her head in knowledge, her attention on the witch pretending everything was fine. “Sure thing Wilson.” She mutters. “Wanda, I know Clint wanted to say goodbye, but he just… needed to make a choice.”

Yep, that definitely didn’t help Wanda feel any better. You offer Nat a look, but the widow is almost too terrible at the whole consolation thing.

“What I mean-”

“He chose his family. I got it the first time, Nat, I didn’t need it to hear it twice.” Wanda cuts off, very harshly. Hurt. “Like I said, it’s fine. I’m not a fucking child, I can understand why he did it. He was three kids and Nathaniel is just a baby.”

You try to ease the tension on Wanda’s shoulders by kissing the exposed skin of her neck. She smiles sweetly, still upset but appreciative of your gesture. The scene seems to make Nat remember something very important.

“Well, speaking of babies…”

Turns out the other Avengers forgot to mention that to Sam. He got very loud and excited.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda maximoff fics #heart shaped #marvel imagines #wanda maximoff smut

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audreyscribes · 8 months

Text

Ω PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS:

⚔ ARES: God of War and Violence 🐗

author's note: I had a sudden idea about writing some headcanons Camp Halfblood demigods being claimed and what it's like for each respective god and cabin, followed by a small blurb afterwards. Thank you for reading and please like and reblog! The order is not in order of the cabin numbers. [PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS MASTERLIST]

When you get claimed, it’s either during or after a victorious battle. If it’s during a battle, like Capture the Flag, it’s when your blood is pumping and you’re on adrenaline high. You could be losing or winning, but you hit that point of state where you’re just so in the zone before you realize you’re covered in red. You decimate the other team, striking fear in their hearts as they see you running over their teammates, your weapon swinging like it’s your own limb. Everyone looks above your head as they see the floating red boar above your head and then you hear a roar of cheer from your now half–siblings. They let out whoops, howls, and cheers, slapping you on the back and some wrestling you if you’re still battle high, before they lift you up and carry you around.

When you’re shown the cabin, you’re immediately nerved by the boar head posted above the door, its eyes following you…but you can’t focus on that because you’re immediately told and made to remember where the live mines are around the entrance. They didn’t clarify if they were actual mines or alternative mines…they said it was classified information and you didn’t have the clearance level yet. Either which you didn’t want to find out the hard way.

If the Hephaestus cabin is the forge, you bet you can imagine that the Ares cabin is their armoury. It's not on the scale as theirs, but its pretty close. Weapons galore. It's a weapon maniacs dream. You have equipment here to upkeep and maintain weapons and if you pick out a weapon that you're not sure how to maintain? You have siblings jumping up the chance to show you.

You wanna try and wield different weapons? Go on ahead! Every Ares’ member has their own mini armoury and collection of weapons.

Y'know how siblings like to push each other and get into play fights? Yeah, the Ares cabin is like that constantly. It goes from rough housing to actual sparring. If you're not a big fan of participating in it, you're going to learn how to redirect people's movements. Don't worry about it getting the heat off you, as long its not entirely personal, you have another Ares’ sibling ready to switch with you.

You also begin to take on bets because with the amount of rough-housing and sparring, it's just too good of an opportunity. The currency ranges from actual dollars, drachmas, candy bars, or what have you. All currency is accepted.

People often like talking with their fists, but it's mostly getting rid of the pent up emotions when you guys do some talk to talk. Got to be fair you know.

If you're not particularly looking for a fight, don't worry about it. While it is true, you're a war god child, you're also good at de-escalating. After all, there's a reason in the book, "The Art of War", Sun Tzu says "The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting".

Blood was roaring in your ears with eyes red as you gripped your weapon high. Your veins were pumping with adrenaline, almost making you shake but you never felt more alive. You had just won and you thrust up your weapon high in the air, and let out a yell. Immediately, a cacophony of cheers and yells joined you, sending another spike of adrenaline and you faintly saw the claim of Ares above your head. People swarmed you and in the zone, you attacked them which they gleefully returned back the favour. Then they lifted you up in the air, cheering that about another child of Ares as you were carried back to the Ares cabin where your siblings plopped you in front of it, and Clarisse at the head.

She grinned at you, her figure imposing but you kept your chin high.

“Not bad, but expected as a child of Ares. Don’t let it get to your head because there’s plenty coming” she said.

“Bring it on” you fired back with a grin as she gave a smirk.

“I’m Clarisse Rue, cabin leader of Cabin 5. Welcome to the Ares cabin.”

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ginkgo-phyta · 7 months

Note

heyy do you write for hotch? If yes can I request a fic with hotch falling asleep on reader's shoulder on the jet. like there are so many fics with reader sleeping on his shoulder and he's all soft about it and lets her. how would the bau react to see their tough boss just cuddle up with his girlfriend after a long case (it can be established relationship or before that too). thanku!

A/N: im screaming HAHA i LOVE THIS! i made this an established relationship hehe i hope you enjoy, my love!

tagged spencer reid x reader because i want more people to see this teehee pls dont hate me i have spencer fics yall should read if you havent already but also you should still read this too

fluff, BAU!reader, gender-neutral reader, mention of cannon type violence/hostage situation/nothing explicit or detailed, 1.8k words

“Hey, you okay?” Your tired eyes peered up at Aaron as he neared your seat on the jet, tie loosened and top button of his shirt undone. He had just gotten off the phone with the section chief, who, undoubtedly, scolded him as if he were a wayward adolescent. Although the smile he offered you in response was tight lipped and less-than-giving, his eyes told a different tale. They softened as they met yours, shedding their cold and hard façade to reveal a weary truth, littered with hints of desperation.

This case had been long and grueling, tensions insurmountably higher than usual with Erin Strauss breathing down Hotch’s neck, scrutinizing every decision he and the rest of the team made. You barely got a chance to talk to Aaron about how he was doing, always being waved off by the older man with “We can talk later,” or “It doesn’t matter right now, let’s focus on the case,”. Begrudgingly, you obliged, understanding there was no point in pushing him. It would only add to his stress. Although the case was solved, the end was arduous. The unsub had taken a hostage and, with the rest of the BAU’s input, the negotiation tactics went a different way than what Erin deemed appropriate.

A heavy sigh parted Aaron’s lips as he slumped into his seat, you could practically see steam of stress billowing off of him. “It’s fine, everything’s fine.” He spoke quietly, eyes closed, but you could tell he didn’t believe it to be true.

“Strauss tear you a new one?” Rossi piqued from across the table.

The unit chief huffed out a short laugh. “Nothing out of the ordinary.” Rossi just nodded at this, turning his attention back to his notepad. Hotch looked to the rest of his team as they settled into their desired spots, “Let’s all get some rest, alright?”

Everyone wordlessly nodded, not having to be told twice.

Aaron lazily turned his head to you with a book in your lap, “You, too, Agent.” He gave you a playfully pointed look.

You breathed out a quiet chuckle, “I will, don’t worry.” You shut the book and turned to give your beloved undivided attention, gazing into his suddenly undecipherable, deep hickory eyes. “You wanna talk about it?”

He gently shook his head, eyelids feeling heavy as his blinks became slower and slower, “At home,” he whispered, your stomach doing a somersault at the notion. Aaron tried to fight sleep for just a few seconds longer, wanting to just stare at you for a bit.

You faced him, head leaned against the headrest, smile so warm and endearing. The way you chuckled at him was like getting a glimpse of heaven. He couldn’t wait to go home and have you all to yourself. The feeling of your arms wrapped around him was his life raft in the tumultuous storm of his emotions. It was hard for him to express what he was feeling all the time, but with you around his walls of reinforced concrete tumbled. Aaron gave you a small, sleepy smile.

Before he could say anything else, you spoke up. “Sleep,” it was a simple command, and the usually stubborn man melted into his seat at your word.

You took a couple minutes longer to watch him immediately fall into a deep slumber, his breaths becoming deeper and longer, lips parted ever-so-slightly, eyebrows twitching here and there. With a breathy laugh, you fought the urge to reach up and caress his face and move the little stray strands of hair off of his forehead, still aware that your coworkers could witness such an intimate moment. The two of you had begun dating five months ago, but it wasn’t until three months later that you broke the news to the team.

It had been a long time coming; for quite a while everyone knew about the feelings you harbored for your boss- even Hotch himself knew. You didn’t do a very good job of hiding it, taking every opportunity you could to blithely flirt with him. Some might just assume you did so in a similar way to how Penelope and Derek toy with each other, but the profilers knew in the back of their minds it wasn’t the case. Aaron fought you at first, pleading with you to stop calling him “handsome”, “big man”, or even “honey” in one case. You never gave in, though, buckling down on your efforts upon seeing the way he would chuckle caught off guard and almost blush in many instances. Slowly yet surely, he gave in to your teases. You burrowed your way into the stoic man’s heart, creating a place you would die before giving up. Aaron didn’t even realize it was happening until his world came crashing down on him one fateful evening.

A routine questioning of a suspect had led to you getting held hostage, the man whose house you went to turning out to be the unsub. This had happened many times before in the history of the BAU, but for some reason Aaron was more on edge. There was no covert entrance into the home and the unsub refused to open up a line of communication with the agents, leaving everyone in the dark wondering what the state of your wellbeing was. Aaron had begun pacing back and forth in the tent they had set up outside the house you were being held in, hands held to his head.

“Hotch, it’s going to be okay.” Derek stepped forward, trying to calm his superior’s nerves.

“He’s right, Aaron.” Rossi piped in. “We’ve dealt with this before, we can fix this.”

“No,” Hotch murmured back, “This isn’t the same. It’s not the same.” His pacing didn’t let up. “This is my fault, I should have told someone to go, too. I could have prevented this.”

The others held unspoken conversations within the glances they shared.

“Hotch-” Emily tried to speak up, to convince him that wasn’t the case.

“NO!” He yelled suddenly, stopping in his tracks. “You don’t understand, I can’t lose them!” His voice was heavy with despair, eyes wide in anguish.

All eyes were trained on him, his coworkers at loss for words at the confession.

“I can’t lose them…” Aaron mumbled this himself before roughly pushing out of the tent.

You smiled to yourself as you took a last glance towards the sleeping man next to you before turning back to your book. Safe to say, you were incredibly shocked when Aaron showed up on your doorstep in the dark of the night all those months ago, soaked in the rain, kissing you with a sense of urgency before you could even ask him what he was doing there. You bit your lip at the memory, but shook it out of your head to try and focus in on the jumbled words swimming in your lap. From the get-go, the two of you decided you would remain extremely professional around your coworkers, and you did just that. You stopped your teasing, for the most part at least, and made sure to never initiate physical contact on the job. Anyone that didn’t already know you were in a relationship would never have guessed. The most you allowed yourselves was sitting next to one another on the jet, just like you were doing now.

An unintelligible murmur and huff sounding from your side drew your short-lived attention away from the delicate pages in front of you. Just as you were about to look over to Aaron and make sure he was okay, a heavy weight thumped onto your shoulder. His head. You were taken aback, a giggle slipping through your lips before you could help it. Your fingers flew up to your mouth, trying to keep yourself quiet as you noticed him shift a bit, making himself more comfortable. Sure, you’d accidentally fallen against Hotch’s shoulder in your sleep a couple times before the two of you entered a relationship, but never in a million years did you expect him to do the same to you. On the jet. In front of everyone. Of course, he couldn’t control his actions in his sleep, you reasoned. And maybe you should gently shrug him off to help retain his authority around the teasing profilers. But, this time, you fought off that thinking and gave in to your instinct. He had been so tense and strung out this entire case, you knew he needed this.

To hell with professionalism. You thought with a devilish grin, happy in your resolution. And so, you gently closed your book and slid it onto the table in front of you, trying your best to move as little as possible before leaning your head against his own and closing your eyes. With the gentle hum of the jet engines and the comforting sounds of Aaron’s breathing, you were lulled into a wonderful slumber in no time.

“Oh my God,” Emily breathed out, garnering the attention of Spencer who rested in the same group of seats as her. He looked up at her with one eye from where he was slumped over in his window seat, trying to get some shut-eye.

“Huh?” the sleepy doctor grumbled, pushing himself a bit more upright when he noticed Emily looking at something on the other side of the jet, her face a mixture of shock and glee.

The raven-haired agent began slapping Derek’s shoulder, who sat peacefully next to her with his eyes closed and headphones over his ears. His eyes flew open, looking over to Emily with annoyance as he took off his headphones, “What! What!”

Immediately Emily shushed him, “Look!” she whispered, hand flying wildly in the air, eyes still unmoving.

Derek followed her line of sight the scene before him pulling a laugh of disbelief from his lungs. “Well, well, well…”

Emily’s hands covered her mouth in astonishment. “JJ!” she whispered over to the blonde who lay curled up on the sofa next to them. “Ugh,” she groaned quietly, unable to wake her coworker.

“I can’t believe this,” she whispered mostly to herself, settling back in her seat, garnering a shake of Morgan’s head.

The view of their hard-headed unit chief sleeping peacefully on the shoulder of his subordinate, the latter’s head resting sweetly back on his was suddenly blacked by the side of Rossi’s body as he stuck his arm out, trying to get the best angle to immortalize this moment on camera.

“Good for them,” Morgan grinned, his voice proudly announcing his amusement as he put his headphones back over his head.

“Rossi, you better send me that!” Emily spoke up just a little bit louder, the old man looking back and motioning his phone towards her in acknowledgement.

“What? What!?” Spencer whisper-yelled, unsuccessfully craning his head above and between the seats to get a glimpse of what all the hubbub was about, “What are you guys looking at!?”

“Penelope’s gonna flip,” Emily mumbled to herself, a teasing smile playing on her face as she looked down at the picture Rossi sent her. Without a second thought, she saved the photo onto her phone. They’re never gonna live this down.

A/N: i hope you liked this!! i had a fun time writing it ehehe hotch is such a dilf, like an ACTUAL dilf im not even attracted to fathers but hotch?? all day, every day, baby!

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch imagine #spencer reid x reader

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a-soft-hornytiny · 2 years

Text

False accusation.

Summary: They accuse you of betrayal. Little did they know they were making a big mistake.

Word count: 1.5k+

Genre: Angst (good? ending)

Pairing: Ateez x neutral!reader

Warnings: Mafia!Ateez, toxicity, distrust, mention of a gun, slight violence (let me know if I missed something) be careful while reading.

Notes: my first ever mafia!ateez fic! The request was for a female reader but the gender is not mentioned. I hope that's alright! And the fluff fell really short, like almost non existent but this is how it felt right so it is what it is.. and yeah idk this feels rushed but I’m way too insecure about writing angst so feedback is very welcome.

Taglist: under the cut (let me know if you wanna be added)

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Come on come on come on Your back was turned to the door as you nervously fiddled with your hands. It had already been a few months since you had found out about your boyfriends‘ jobs and at first you were shocked but it was them or going back to your boring everyday life. And even though it was morally questionable, you decided to stay with them.

It didn’t take long until they decided it would be best for you to live with them, to protect you. And although they never told you directly, you knew it was to control you as well.

You had worked hard to gain their trust but recently they grew more suspicious of you. It was that you flinched when they came near you, that you always seemed to hide something and how nervous you were when they asked you what you were doing. You knew it would be troublesome for you if they found out but you were bad at hiding your emotions. Which was not ideal for the partner of eight highly experienced criminals.

Steps were heard in front of your door and you barely managed to hide what you were doing before Yunho entered your room. You turned around, sweat running down your forehead.

“W-whats up?” You asked, nervously stepping forward before taking a deep breath. You needed to calm down, if you told on yourself now it would ruin everything.

“Come outside.” Yunho’s voice was cold, giving you the shivers. He was scary. When you first met him, obviously outside of their work environment, you got to know him as a sunshine, but when you saw him angry for the first time, he was your personal nightmare.

You stared at the ground as you followed him out of your room. You didn’t know where he was leading you but before you could ask, you were pressed face first against the wall. Your heart was beating up to your throat.

“Do not dare to resist.” You whined quietly. You could recognise that voice anywhere. Another member that you rarely knew angry. He had pinned your hands against your back, pressing his whole body against you to fixate you against the wall.

“I promise I won’t!” Seonghwa’s face was right next to yours so you could feel his breath on your skin. “You better keep that promise.” He responded before pulling you away from the wall and guiding you into a room. But it wasn’t just any room. It was the room you had never been allowed to enter. The room out of which you sometimes heard loud voices in the middle of the night.

Seonghwa harshly sat you down on a chair before leaving the room again. You were still in shock, unsure what was happening. It was an interrogation room. The chair you were sitting on was connected to the ground, just like the metal table in front of you. The gray walls were empty and the room generally felt cold.

It didn’t take you long to recognise more familiar faces. One two three…. seven eight. All of them were here. Seonghwa and Yunho were standing right next to the entrance, Yeosang and Wooyoung covered the wall right behind you. Mingi, Jongho and San stood at the opposite side of the room.

Before you could further inspect the room, hands slammed onto the table in front of you.

“Eyes on me.” Hongjoong growled, making you flinch. Fear was filling your body as you looked up to him. He stared right into your soul. This was the room where they uncovered all secrets, where they had no scruples. You were shaking.

“What is it.” He asked, although it sounded more like a statement. You had question marks in your eyes. “You’re hiding something from us. What is it?” You looked down onto your hands, all your nerves were overloaded with impulses. Too early. They couldn’t find out yet. Your plan would be ruined.

“I-I’m not hiding anything.” A lie. A straight up lie. And you could feel that they knew. Suddenly you felt warm air on your neck.

“Don’t lie to us. We’re not dumb, little one.” You hadn’t even noticed how Wooyoung creeped up to you. You didn’t dare to turn around and look at him. His voice shook your soul. Little one. That cute nickname he had given you at the start of your relationship, usually making you feel precious, was now making you feel helpless.

You felt tears swell up in your eyes. Don’t cry, you can not cry. You tried to tell yourself but it had no use. You felt horrible. You had let them into your heart and their distrust was hurting you deeply. But you couldn’t even be mad at them. You were hiding something. And they had made themselves vulnerable too.

“No need to cry love.. just tell us what you’re hiding.” San was kneeling down next to the table, resting his arms and head on the cold metal plate. He was smiling at you. But his eyes were cold. You felt a sting in your heart.

“I-…” Tears were uncontrollably running down your face now. “I’m sorry!” You cried out before burying your face into your hands. You didn’t want it to turn out like this but you should’ve known that they would misunderstand it. That they would think you would betray them.

There was only one way out of this. You had to show them. But reaching into your pocket was a mistake. You heard a gun being armed.

“Don’t move.” You froze immediately, only to look up and see Jongho holding his gun, pointed to the ground.

“Please.. I just want to show you! You need to see it to understand.” Your voice was cracking with every word you were saying. Yeosang appeared behind you, putting both of your hands onto the cold table. “Where?” He demanded deeply. You shivered. “In my back pocket.” Your whole body was tense as Yeosang fished something out of your pocket and put it on the table.

You let out a deep breath of relief as you saw them realize that the object wasn’t meant to harm anyone.

“A bracelet?” Hongjoong asked, obviously taken aback. You nodded hesitantly. You felt the tension in the room slowly disappear.

“It’s for Mingi.” You said, causing him to look up curiously. “It’s the last piece of my.. my present for you. The rest is in the little casket under my bed.” You confessed. Yunho immediately stormed out of the room to see if you were telling the truth, leaving you in an uncomfortable atmosphere.

But as you looked into their eyes, one after another, you saw the instant regret take the place of anger.

“I thought about it for a long time.. I can’t gift you anything that would be obviously linked to me or would connect all of you.” You slowly regained confidence to explain your behavior. “I wanted to surprise you.”

Yunho came in, putting the open casket onto the table. Their shock grew as they realized that you were telling the truth.

A belly chain, a ring, a necklace, earrings, a choker, an anklet and a belt buckle. With the bracelet that was eight pieces. All of them were obviously self made.

You forced a smile as you saw guilt forming in their eyes. The first one to apologize was Seonghwa. He stormed forward, embracing you into a hug. You were still tense but you slowly felt your fear fade away.

“Put that damn gun away Jongho!” You heard Hongjoong whisper aggressively before you were let into the living room. You were now sitting on the couch, all eight of them in front of you, looking at you as if they just commited the most horrible crime. And in their minds they did.

“Listen Y/n, there is nothing we can do to make this up to you.” Hongjoong started talking but you interrupted him. “Just take them.” You tried your best to forget the fear you felt and put all your love into that smile.

You stood up, all your self made gifts in your hands. You stepped forward. The belt buckle for Hongjoong, the choker for Seonghwa, the ring for Yunho, the belly chain for Yeosang, the anklet for San, the bracelet for Mingi, the necklace for Wooyoung and the earrings for Jongho.

Looking at them you wanted to feel love but the shock and pain was still sitting deep in your bones. The atmosphere was awkward, uncomfortable. You didn’t know how long it would take to work through this, the sound of a gun being armed still echoing in your brain. You had never realized how much danger you were in all the time.

But you were willing to forgive them, no matter how much time it would take to heal.

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Tags: @jonghoisbabie @multidreams-and-desires @little-precious-baby @yunhofingers-writes @serialee @crimsonbubble @cometoceantrenches @em--ilysm @deja-vux @kawaiiloli00 @ddeonghwva @aaaaajonghooooo @sansbun @cookies-n-joong @plonys @hijirikaww @nari-nim @yunkiwii @mingi-ivity @racheloveyunho @seongsangsgf @jhmylove @lizsvcks @yunhobabygurl @leoninadecorazones @kerra-that-one-random-fangirl @star1117-archives @hoshischeekss @yeosangsbiceps @euphoric-emily16 @anyamaris @shinestarhwaa

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#ateez #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez story #neutral!reader #ateez angst #kpop #kpop angst #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #fanfiction #poly!ateez #kpop imagines #mafia!ateez #request #anon #📌

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 2 years

Note

Callouses on his gentle hands was absolutely adorable! It kept making me thing of a continuation of the sorts where some years pass and the reader actually enlisted in the military earning the code name Bird too without Price having any knowledge. Only to show up when he's a captain maybe even to be part of 141 or something important.

Idk if this is a possible request as I don't want to bother you but it would be amazing if there was some well timed banter and just generally happy.

Again your writing is so good it leaves me speechless I love it so much! 👁️〰️👁️

Calluses and Milky Scars

Pairing: John Price x F!Reader

Synopsis: It's been years since you've seen or heard from John and yet you still can't get him out of your head. But can a chance meeting rekindle old emotions? (18+)

Word Count: 16.1k

Warnings: Angst, typical violence & gore, talks of human trafficking, vulgar language, eventual fluff, banter, smut, honestly I think I wrote switch!Price without even realizing it, p in v sex, fingering, teasing, breeding kink, etc.

A/N: Imma be honest I hate the first part of this duology - it was one of my earlier works - so I made this as standalone as possible. So if you don't wanna read the first part (please don't) you can still understand this one just fine by itself. (this is also an excuse for more smut practice). Anyway, enjoy! Part 1

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

They only saw the glint of a blade, the metal reflecting the light of a mist-filled night back into the whites of their eyes. You could see the result of your form in their terror-stricken visages as, one after one, they succumbed to the ministrations of your unyielding determination.

You had forgotten when the act of taking a life had become so easy for you. It was as natural as breathing, now. Elementary. Your fingers could pull a trigger just as fast as they would raise for a handshake or a wave. There was little need to be shy about it – your days as a victim were far behind you, and ‘Bird’ was nothing more than a callsign uttered under hushed breaths. Said behind back alleys by Human Traffickers with fear-slick eyes.

It was no longer uttered in a deep British accent, the word making your skin tingle and cheeks heat. No matter how much you longed for it to be.

You were a Captain in the military now. Working hand-in-hand with the CIA under the direction of a certain Kate Laswell. You even commanded your own Squad that specializes in getting others out of the very situation you had been in years ago with no mercy or hesitation.

Revenge, you decided, was most likely why this was easy for you.

You enjoyed it.

“Perimeter clear, Captain,” Wren speaks into your earpiece as you step over the bodies at your feet, boots splashing through puddles of blood so starkly contrasting the grass it makes you smirk.

“Move up.” A balaclava covers your face, and sweat dribbles down your brow before you blink it out of your eye.

Around your chest, the M4A1 sits with its familiar weight, and you wipe the life-fluid from your crude combat knife before sheathing it at your thigh. You had taken out three stragglers at the South End of the current Targets territory, your blood singing sweetly in your veins at the prospect of finally crossing another name off your list.

“Eagle,” Your voice bounces off trees and low shrubs, and you continue forward as your fingers press the button on the old-issue radio. There were better versions nowadays, and you got teased for still using the ancient one you have currently strapped to your chest, but it was sentimental to you. An old friend had given it to you for safekeeping a long time ago…How many years now was it since you had seen or heard from John Price? Ten? Fifteen? Who could really tell, anyhow? Time moved quickly, and you ran through it even quicker.

Your sharp eyes flick out over the view as you exit the brush, standing on the top of a large ridge – a series of warehouses lit up with large spotlights below your perch makes you frown.

“Let’s get this started then, shall we?” You mutter, shifting your feet and rolling your shoulders. “Blackout in 3.”

“Roger that, Ma’am.”

You watch the guards walking like obsidian ants below, your predatory gaze missing nothing – you spot the mannerisms fairly quickly; who limps, who favors their left over their right. Who’s sleeping on the job. A first victim was almost immediately chosen as you tilt your head and feel the chilled breeze on your visible skin. Your Unit knows the procedures you’ve ingrained into them and they’re watching just as closely and predatory as you are.

All four, including you, are stationed in a circle around the area, with Eagle, the man with the sniper rifle, taking point far off into the trees on a higher portion of the topography. Three seconds of prep time come and go quickly. And so do the lights.

A series of muffled pops and a shattering of glass break the night into chaos, and then the illumination goes out entirely. The area is plunged into an inky darkness of your own command – you revel in it. And then the screams begin.

“Take ‘em.” You mutter through the open channel, and your feet then propel you forward, dodging trees and jumping downed branches as you skid down the slope. Your heart beats with adrenaline, the hunt making your nerves twitch.

In your grip, you ready your weapon, flicking off the safety as shots begin to ring out over the land. Eagle was taking off the ones he could, but if you had to guess, Shrike was already in the fray, letting her face get bloody from the close quarters she favored. You only hoped the woman wouldn’t go overboard this time. Thrush was usually the one to help keep her head on, but the man was across the territory with his own hostiles to wipe the board of.

You fire at the first shadow with a light finger, watching it drop and pivoting to pull the trigger at two more before they knew what was happening – too panicked by the sudden assault seemingly out of nowhere.

“Shrike,” Your voice wafts over the buzzing line, “mind yourself. I don’t need you put on Suspended Leave again.”

“Don’t worry, Ma’am,” Thrush’s light voice meets your ears as you take cover behind a vehicle directly in front of one of the warehouses, “I’m making my way to her now.”

“Ah, Fuck off, Thrush!” Shrike growls, and there’s a distinct sound of someone’s gurgling last breath in the background. It makes you let out a huff of demented laughter. “I know the limits!”

“I don’t think she knows the limits, Ma’am,” Eagle grunts over the call, and a shot sizzles past your head and takes out a charging man that was making his way to your hunched and hidden form. “I really don’t.”

Rushing forward out of your cover, you chuckle breathlessly as Wren’s dignified voice pipes in.

“I’m making my way to the main building and getting set to download the data. Target’s nowhere to be seen, Captain.” Your lips thin under the fabric and you grunt, feeling a bullet graze your bicep. Ducking in an instant, you set your feet and fire, running past before the sound of the body slamming to the ground behind you can reach your ears. A burning heat enters your arm, but you barely acknowledge it.

“Eagle, cover her until I get there.”

“Affirm.”

“Shrike, Thrush, report. How’s the other warehouse lookin'?” Your body skids across the ground, and your hand connects with the warehouse you needed to clear before making your way to Wren and the Mainframe.

Half of the Op was data retrieval, and the other was taking out a human trafficker only named in his file as Buck – bastard’s been running for a long time, and you needed to leave him a bloody mess before he kept his ‘business’ going. Laswell only sent in your Squad because she knew you could get it done with an efficiency no one else could. Nearly a perfect success rate got the attention of people worldwide; your waiting list was long of the places the CIA wanted to send you and your team.

But you didn’t care, as long as your own list was getting checked off they could fly your ass to Antarctica for all it mattered.

“Our warehouse is cleared out. Must not have expected us…they were running around with their heads chopped off.”

Shrike snickers. “Just like chickens.”

“Good. Join up with Wren and make sure she can get the download completed. Copy?” You grasp the large metal handle and growl, locking your arms and pushing with all of your strength. The weight makes your thighs shake, but you only open it enough for you to slip inside, gun at the ready as breaths puff from your mouth.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Boots shuffle over the concrete floor, and your ears twitch in the quiet darkness at the crunch of stray gravel underfoot. Your finger shifts slowly to the trigger, glaring into the nothingness.

It was silent.

You heard it then, like a spike to the heart – the panicked breathing; the sounds of shaking lungs and grasping hands. Sounds all so familiar it made you pause, mind for an instant blanking at the implications.

There were people here. Drowning in fear.

You could see them in the corners, scores of bodies piled on top of one another to find some semblance of comfort. Their eyes wink in the moonlight of a single window in the roof, and the stench nearly makes you want to gag. Blinking, you lower your gun, feet shifting to stand straight like a statue; heart racing. These people weren’t supposed to be here, and already vicious comparisons to your own rescue by a certain man a long time ago invade your mind. Calluses seem to burn your hands under your gloves, and a gentle imaginary prod at an injury on your forehead makes the milky scar ache.

He readies the wipe in one of his hands, the other coming up to your jaw. When you tense he freezes, but as soon as the hesitance leaks away from you like a wave, the slow motion returns to his limbs; his fingers come to grab at your chin, gently holding your head in place. When you place more weight into his hold and release a deep-chested sigh of content he quirks a dark eyebrow.

“This might sting, Doll,” John whispers.

“That’s alright,” You mutter back, staring into his beautiful eyes as the wipe comes into view in the side of your vision. “Not your fault.”

He only releases a puff of air from his lips before adding the smallest amount of pressure to your forehead, running the wipe over the red and swollen flesh.

Taking a deep breath one of your hands goes to your radio stiffly. Eagle needed to know about this so he could send a message to Laswell – get an immediate Medical Evac for these people.

In your hyper-focussed state, memories you wished would stay away rear their head; infect your intuition and common sense. You missed the click of the safety until the barrel of the pistol was level with the back of your head. Freezing, your fingers tense over the device, your body going rigid and muscles tight as the people in the corners gasp and cry out into the night.

A panting man stands behind you and you feel his hands shaking as the barrel digs into the balaclava’s fabric.

Well, that’s unexpected.

“Show me your hands,” He breathes heavily, and you feel his puff of air echo out over the open space. Tinged with fear. Dripping with adrenaline.

Your lips pull back into a steady, hidden, smirk, head tilting as your hands slowly drift from your radio and let your weapon hang from its strap around your chest; feeling it bounce off the various packs and supplies you carry with pride. They splay beside your head, fingers lazily loose and leather gloves squealing into the night.

Selene herself holds her silver breath, the winds sucked down into Hades as Cerberus breaks sinner’s bones with his savage jaws and blood-slick teeth. It was silent.

Born and bred to violence, there truly wasn’t a better place for you to be than in the CIA. This was Hell, but you could play that black-clad ruler’s game just the same. You’d been dodging him for years.

“T-toss your gun to the floor.”

“You know that won’t matter.” You look behind you, side-eyeing that shaking would-be threat. Phobos lives in his very being. Coward. Pathetic. Red-hot anger lights your nerves, iris narrowing to black slits. This thing – he was little more than an entitled boy in a man’s body. Using others for his gain just like others had used you. This was your Target.

This was Buck.

“So this is the one who made an empire on the suffering of innocents.” You mumble, unafraid and unbothered with a scoff. “I really expected more than a man who plays with his food.”

Yes, the adrenaline was running in your veins; you were human. It was natural. But the way the wailing birds rampaged in your chest wasn’t – you should be afraid, not angry. Not enraged to the point you were shaking; fingers twitching for your knife. For spilled blood to coat the earth.

Phobos was this man’s ruler, but that Fear God’s father was Ares. And Ares was yours.

“I…I said drop your fucking weapon you bitch–!”

Your opposite hand knocks Buck’s wrist to the side and your body twists. In a single fraction of a second between the loud misfire that hits the floor and the ringing in your ears, the knife at your thigh finds purchase in his pliable neck. Crimson sprays over your eyes; staining the balaclava as your body falls to the ground as you jam the blade deeper – all the way to the crossguard.

Buck grumbles wetly from under you, hands coming to weakly grasp at your arms and attempt to pry your unyielding body from him. His grip is as strong as a child’s, and as blood spurts from his mouth and entry wound, you slap your free hand over his face and twist the knife. Strangling the hilt in your grasp, you viciously jerk your limb, sending the edge sliding over his neck; cutting tendons and arteries. Creating a red-lipped smile from ear to ear that explodes with gore.

Buck was already dead before the puddle over the ground grew an inch in diameter.

Ripping your weapon out, you shove your boot into his chest and push off, stumbling to your feet as you stare down wide-eyed. Your digits shake, but the flickering of your gaze goes from the dead eyes to the open mouth of the corpse. Flicking your wrist, you splatter more blood on the floor to rid some of it from your blade before sheathing it.

Gripping your radio, you speak clearly into the line.

“Eagle this is the Captain – get in contact with Laswell immediately. Civvies in the far South warehouse. Ask for Medical Evac.”

Say to bring only women, you want to growl but refrain. That was impossible to manage.

You stare at them now, the innocents, and see your own path reflected in the many colors and the feral glints in their irises. In the way their bodies huddle like cats with their backs flared. If life had been different, would you still be in a situation like this – waiting for your own John Price to break you out? It was a difficult question. Far more challenging to answer than why the body behind you was staining the concrete with blood and tears.

…What would have happened if he had never kneeled down before you that day? Offered you his hand stained with calluses and gunpowder residue?

You blink at the thin bodies, gaze flowing to each and every one in turn. With a slow motion you begin forward, hands at your sides and visible; you draw the memory to you. The one you think of often.

You had stayed there in fear, curled up in the corner, shaking like a leaf in the wind. Until John.

“Ma’am,” He had said, kneeling on one leg while his hands clutched his M16 to his chest, the muzzle still smoking, “I’m Lieutenant John Price in Command of Unit Bravo. You’re safe now.”

Unit Bravo? Safe? You had wondered, looking up at the man with confusion. How can I be safe?

Nonetheless, when he offered you a hand, you had taken it, looking in awe at how gently he gripped your limb in his own; John’s limb completely swallowed yours and yet held you like delicate glass.

You stopped before a woman far too young to be in a situation like this and kneeled. She watched you with a shaking body, the others curling away in fear. They didn’t know you, and so they feared you. Taking a breath, your hand raises, and the woman’s eyes are laser-focused on your form.

I should make myself smaller, you think. And so you do.

The fabric is sweat-heavy; laden with dirt and other substances, but you grasp it without hesitation and peel it off of you. It sits in your hand with the weight of the past in the thick polyester threads. Swallowing down saliva at the breeze that hits your face, you watch the lady blink at you, her gaze filled with confusion.

An easy smile comes to your face; if they hadn't just seen you murder a man, they would not believe you to be the same person. Yours was not the face of a killer – of someone who twists the knife deep and revels in death. It was soft beside the scar above your eyebrow, easy to look at. Innocent.

A simple Bird, no. A vulture perhaps suited you better, if they were to get into specifics.

You clear your throat and they all flinch.

“Ma’am,” Your voice carries. Again, not the voice of a monster. But even Ares marries a beauty. Could you not be a spawn of them? Beautiful and utterly bloodied by the rules of war? Oh, yes, that’s what you were, you had to be. Nothing else would make any sense. But they gravitate to you nonetheless – war and love often go hand in hand. Especially when one killed the ruler of their torment. “I’m the Captain of Raptor Squad. You can call me Bird, if you want. It’s alright. We’re gonna get you out of here and get you some help, okay? You’re safe now.”

The woman can’t help but nod sheepishly.

Who says no to an offspring of Gods themselves?

—

The helicopter ride back was silent, with everyone tired and covered in more blood, dirt, and sweat than they can recall. Buck’s body was stuffed into a black bag and sitting in the walkway at your feet – you needed it for positive identification back on Base. You had shuffled back into the balaclava, taking comfort in the security and anonymity it lent. Below, your eyes watch the word whizz past, one foot limply hanging off the side thousands of feet above the ground; you swish it back and forth like a child and allow yourself to think.

You had joined the military only a few years after John had rescued you – much against the wishes of your therapist, but seeing as you were of sound mind, it wasn’t that difficult to enlist. The brown-haired Brit had sent you letters for the first three months after you had left the Base you had been recovering at and then, inexplicably, they had stopped. No letters, no contact. The radio – along with you – was too far away to get a signal; that was how it ended.

Not with a kiss or a soldier’s goodbye, just nothing. Silence.

But you never held it against him. Perhaps, you reasoned and partially believed, he was already dead. At the end of the day, he had been a great motivator for you, and over the years your fists and skills had propelled you to top ranks. Laswell had been in contact soon after you had been promoted to Lieutenant and Raptor Squad had been formed when you had chosen the most violent and perfect bastards to join it.

From there it was win after win and the CIA soon counted this team as one of the most lethal in its roster. You’ve been all over the world.

More than I could imagine I would become in a concrete corner and locked in a cage.

Your eyes watched the expanse of forest outside, but there was still something missing. Why had John just…stopped? It was the one question you could never answer.

Did I really not matter to him at all? Around your vest, your fingers twitch as the helicopter bounces on airwaves. Blue eyes still haunted you – the ones that held silver starlight hostage. How they used to soften with care when they looked down at you. John shouldn’t have mattered this much to you.

Why can’t I just let go of him?

You bite at your hidden lip with sharp teeth, peeling back the skin as Wren shifts in her seat beside you. She speaks into the comms to avoid yelling over the drowning sound of helo blades and you lock your eyes on her form.

“You might want to look at the info I retrieved from the Target’s mainframe, Captain. Didn’t Laswell mention she had a separate Task Force going after someone named Casilda Kalpana? She’s mentioned in this file.” Wren hands you her tablet, and you hold it in one of your hands as your hard eyes slim down the screen, taking in compiled sources.

Casilida Kalpana was on your list of Targets to take care of, but Laswell had given the job to another Task Force – designated TF-141 – for the small difference that this woman had ties to multiple terror organizations. Raptor Squad was no stranger to that, but Kate had also stated that the Captain of that group had been incredibly instant on taking it himself.

Your head tilts in memory.

“Kate, I’m not understanding why you think we can’t handle it.” You huff, shaking your head with an exasperated expression. “It’s no different than anything we’ve done before.”

“I have no problem with you participating, but the Captain pulled in a favor. Said he ‘felt obligated’ or something like that.” You pull a face, and Laswell glares at you from behind her desk. “Bird, I really don’t have the time to argue today – I’m stuck with stacks of papers because Keller decided to get himself lost again.”

“I’m not trying to argue, Kate.” Holding up your hands you chuckle and roll your eyes. “The only thing that matters is that the Target ends up six feet under at the end of the day. You know what it means to me.”

The Agent looks up from her papers and pauses for a moment, a pen placed between her digits, and her eyes soften around the gray edges.

“I can personally assure you, Captain, that this Task Force will see it done…Now hurry up and get ready for your own mission – I hear South America is warmer than usual this time of year. Pack a cold drink.”

The words in the file make your stomach churn; leading to your eyes widening. You flip the tablet back to Wren and radio Eagle who’s blankly watching Shrike and Thrush play rock-paper-scissors across from you.

“Eagle,” the man’s head snaps to you and he blinks, “Patch through to Laswell. Tell her to gather Task Force 141 in the meeting room on Base and wait for me. Under no circumstances should they be allowed to leave on the Op for the HVT Casilda Kalpana. We’ve got vital intel.”

Eagle nods and gets to work on a secure call to Kate, as you turn to Wren, clapping her on the shoulder and leaning close to speak into her ear over the noise.

“Good work, Sergeant. Get all that transferred onto a flash drive for me, yeah?”

“On it, Ma’am.”

This just keeps getting better, doesn’t it? You sigh deeply, tilting your head back as the sun starts to slowly rise over the land, bathing it in an orange glow that spreads out like fire. The large Cargo plane following behind the Helicopter would carry the innocent victims of Buck back to Base, and you fight the urge to get in contact with the pilot's headset to ask how it was going for them. It was hard to not get attached – especially when you knew what was probably going through their fear-stricken brains.

Left wondering in silence, your fingers pick at themselves over your gloves, peeling at frayed threads and durable fabric. As the minutes stretch into hours, you lift a hand and run a digit over your scar, caressing the skin as the forest pulls back and buildings emerge. Turbulence overtakes the helicopter, and your hand grabs the net on the side of the wall to steady yourself as the descent begins.

Settling your nerves, you wait until the ‘all good’ from the cockpit before you hop out, signaling with your finger for your Squad to follow close behind. Someone else would come and grab the body bag – it wasn’t your problem anymore. Your feet pound the Tarmac, and you can’t help the look you send up to the sky, watching the cargo plane on the horizon as it comes closer. Frowning under your covering, you re-focus.

I need to stop thinking about it – I always get like this with civvies.

It was hard not to. You only wanted to bring them the same comfort that John had brought you.

God, stop fucking thinking about him! His phantom haunts your every step like the two of you were Orpheus and Eurydice – only one of you wasn’t dead in the first place. One had left; abandoned you to the wolves. You had said you held no bad feelings towards the Brit but was that true? And if he was really dead, would you ever even know it?

Your feet carry you forward as the helicopter blades slice the air, making your clothes ruffle and shake under the combat vest and around your ankles.

The last time you had contact with the brown-haired man, you had been reading his letter in a free-of-charge home given to you until you could get on your feet and secure a job. John had been sent back to the UK on another assignment, leaving you a nervous wreck surrounded by people you didn’t know the intentions of. You had been excited to go to the mailbox at the time – even if being outside still made you nervous. Everything was just so big to you back then. When your fingers had opened the small metal box and found the white letter with the elegant script on top, you felt a smile rip open your face.

But the contents had been less than they usually were. Stiffer; formal in a way you had yet to associate with the man. He had always been nice to you. But maybe he had grown past that – you feared that thought.

“This’ll be my last letter for a while, Bird. I’m going Black. Make sure to remember to go outside and drink water for me, yeah?”

-Price

There had been the start of another sentence before it had been scribbled out and then had been it. No updates; no return address this time so you could write him back. And then you had bever received another letter until you had gotten fed up with your life going nowhere and enlisted. John Price had disappeared, and whether he was dead or halfway across the world you knew not.

He had been the only man you had trusted until Eagle and Thrush had become a part of your group. Still, even now, the opposite sex made you hesitant – you didn’t like being alone with a man you didn’t know. Your line of work didn’t help that notion, either.

“Bird,” Shrike’s voice brings you back, and your eyes slide to your side to look at the smaller woman. You hum in question. “What was in the file Wren downloaded? And who’s Task Force 141?”

“All in due time,” You mutter back, your hand opening the front door of the main building. No one was bothering to remove their gear or clean themselves – they all understood from the way you were walking faster that this was important. “And as for TF-141, I have no idea. Never met ‘em.”

Wren coughs, and Shike looks over as Thrush and Eagle listen silently, the former handing a cigarette over to the other.

“One-Four-One is a Multinational Special Operations Unit comprised of operatives from all over the globe. Much like what we do, but on an infinitely larger scale. I believe Laswell asked our Captain to join it a year ago…” Wren trials, not bothering to look up from her tablet where she still reads through files and other intel from the mission.

Thrush’s eyes widened.

“Holy shit, really? And you passed it up?”

“Obviously,” You snort, itching at your bicep where the bullet graze still sits in dried blood and dirt. You repress an annoyed hiss of pain. “Why do you think I’m still stuck here with you lot?”

“Awe,” Shrike coos, scrunching her nose, “She loves us.”

“Loves to hate us,” Eagle whispers. You send a half-serious glare as Wren chortles to herself.

“I can always ask Kate for the offer again.” A loud uproar makes people in the hallway turn and stare, and you laugh under your face-covering, chest light.

You all arrive at the meeting room door and you don’t bother knocking, shoving your way inside with Shrike still giggling behind you. There’s the presence of five others in the room, and one stands at the head of a large table, a blank projector behind her in dim lighting. You don’t bother looking at anyone else – still keeping that habit of being nervous around new people.

Laswell sighs as she looks you over, crossing her arms over her blouse.

“We're all here, Captain. What was so urgent that you had to show us?” You slip past her and head to the computer atop a wooden stand, hearing whispers and muttered comments as your groups disperse around the room. Heavy stares that peel back skin like batter nearly make you sweat. They were boring into you, making your heart race.

They’re waiting for us, you remind yourself.

“Wren.” You call steadily and a second later you’re catching a well-aimed flash drive without looking and plugging it into the computer.

Before touching anything else, your hands reach up and grasp the balaclava, tearing it off your head in one quick motion and hooking it onto your belt. It was rare for you to wear it on Base.

A sharp inhalation of breath makes your fingers over the keys pause, but you only blink and return to typing – pulling up file after file. The air in the room was already tense, but whatever had just happened was setting off alarm bells.

Who are these people? What just happened?

Nonetheless, you get to work and turn to Laswell with the intel on screen.

“You’re going after a useless player. Casilda Kalpana is only a pawn in a much larger scheme.” Kate’s eyes snap from one digitized document to another as you continue, staring at her and no one else with a blank expression. “If you had sent your Task Force, they would have died. They already knew you were coming.”

“Well,” a distinctly Scottish accent makes your fingers twitch, but still you don't look as a comment is said into the air, “I’d have to disagree with that, now, Hen.”

Blood and sweat stain your skin, and you’re covered in more of it down your gear. Your gloves are stiff with dried crimson and even the small amount of interaction you had on the computer left stains over the keys. But you still find the energy to roll your eyes.

“Can you fight off upwards of one hundred hostiles while trying to sneak through a city so inhabited that it's practically a human ant hill? No offense, but if you answer that with ‘yes’ you may need a psych eval done.”

There’s a pause before a small masculine snort echoes out.

“Shut your gob, Garrick.”

“Laswell,” you remain on topic and the woman looks at you with inquisitive eyes, “The only way forward with this is cutting the head off the snake. I say we go one above Kalpana and take out the ring leader.”

“Abel?” Kate’s eyebrows raise, “Bird we’ve been looking for him for years – I don’t know what you expect us to do with noth–”

Your finger hits a key, and the next document pops up.

“You can thank Wren for compiling the sources. Lots of emails to go through on the helicopter ride. Some not as fascinating as finding coordinates for a Target.”

“You can say that again,” said woman huffs from the back of the room, “you know how many kinky photos these people send to one another. Shit’s disgusting.”

The Scot speaks up again, “really? On a scale of how bad it was – one to ten, Bonnie.”

“Fifteen. I need my eyes bleached.”

There is a gaze that doesn’t leave you; it hadn't since you had walked through the door. It is hard and unrelenting. It does not falter or blink away.

It makes you nervous.

Sucking down a deep breath you try to focus on what everyone is saying, but it becomes more difficult with every second. Your hand reaches up to your head, scratching at your scar as the presence follows your actions.

Who is this? You wonder, but clench your jaw and listen to Laswell speak.

“--reliable is this source?”

Shrike answers from near the door, chuckling, “very, Ma’am. Rarely do these people sugarcoat things. Small brains, you understand?”

“...At the very least I need more than a location and a vague date. Bird,” your head turns slowly away from the floor, “can you give me a week?”

The hairs on the back of your neck stand.

“A week?” You frown, eyes narrowing at the blonde, “He could be off in the wind by then. Do you have any idea how much this guy runs – I’ve been tracking him down ever since I joined, Kate. This is the most I’ve gotten in that entire time.” Splaying out one of your hands for emphasis, everyone hangs off your words. “He’s the source of all of it. When you cut a snake up, the head can still bite, sure, but at least you know where not to step. Kill Abel now, and all of them are left bloody in the dirt. Ready to be picked off.”

Before the stoic agent can say anything, the radio on your chest sizzles to life and you forget about the hot eyes and the thick air.

The people from the warehouse.

Hand snapping up, you turn your head down into it, facing forward as your eyes stiffen.

“Cargo plane is clear for landing, Ma'am. Just thought I’d let the Squad know.”

“Thank you, Cadet. I’ll be there momentarily to help out…” You blink, “Try to make sure only female medics work on them but make do if you have to.”

“Copy that. I’ll spread the word.”

“Rog.” You don’t bother to take the USB from the computer before you turn away – they’ll all go over it while you see to the Civvies.

“How many this time?” Kate asks seriously as you slip past, her body pivoting to orient herself as you pass.

“Warehouse full.” You grunt, itching at your bicep and shuffling to the exit. “Less than last time.” The agent knew better than to try and stop you.

“That’s an old radio you’ve got.” The British accent makes you falter for a second; it was deep, aged like a fine wine that coated the vowels with clipped authority. Familiar for some reason, but you took no notice of it. “Must be one helluva long story, eh?”

“Very long,” You say as your nimble hand connects with the door, “Unfortunately, I don’t have time to tell it–”

Your body freezes as you send a quick glance to the voice’s owner; stance suddenly locked tighter than a bank vault as your optics find familiar blue eyes.

…John? There was suddenly a violent silence in your head, a sheet of white paper held in front of your brain to block it from firing.

He looked older, but then again, it had been years. Many years. But the build of his face hadn’t changed so much to a point you’d be unable to recognize those blue eyes. Oh, that blue. Like deep water and sea foam on a cold shore. Was it possible to know someone only by their eyes? You had to argue that, yes, you could. Because the man sitting down at the table, flanked by three others that all watch the interaction with confused eyes, is not the Lieutenant you remember.

The beard was new – shiny brunette like his hair under his bucket-hat-covered head – along with the stature. Before, Price had been large, sure, but now he was built like a bear. Your tense eyes slip over the tight compression shirt covering his arms, the bulk of his thighs as he shifts in his chair to stand up firmly. John clears his throat, and your face heats under the flesh, but upon the doorknob, your fingers strangle the metal. He was taller.

In your chest, the aggressive pounding of your heart rivals a cheetah.

What the fuck is he doing here? You can’t help but glare when the man frowns, his eyelids half-down in a studying look as his eyebrows push in. Like he was just as surprised as you were. Hesitant. But I’m not the one who disappeared. I’m not the one who made the other think they died.

When your face shifts to anger, John freezes, his hands coming up to cross and grip the collar of his beige combat vest looking about as awkward as he can. When you huff out a breath through your nose, his feet shuffle shoulder length apart. Ever the soldier – waiting for a lip-lashing. You watch the wrinkles on his forehead with growing hatred.

“Bird, I…”

Breathe.

“Well, this just keeps getting fucking better and better.” Without another glance, you wrench the door open and shoulder though, tossing it back with a decent enough force to make the wall rattle as you disappear down the hall.

But he won’t leave your thoughts. John Price. Alive. Here.

What kind of game was this?

Your hands are shaking at your sides when the door, already far down the hallway, opens quickly. But the feet are not heavy. Wren slides up next to you, her feet pumping. She doesn’t say anything, just walks next to you as your eyes shutter closed and you take a deep breath.

“You up for helping out in the med ward?” You force yourself to say, hoping to distract yourself as your face once more moves back to a picture of innocent calm.

How can he be here? Fuck…h-how? John was part of the 141 for this entire time? Did he know I was here? He couldn't have, no. But what if he did…

Why didn’t he say anything?

“I’m certainly more inclined to lead my abilities to the nurses, Captain. You’ll find no resistance from me.” You liked that about Wren. She never pried about things she knew you didn’t want to talk about.

“Good. They’ll need them.”

—

“John!” You laugh, hands coming up to your head where the Lieutenant had placed his beanie, the chill outside had made your nose hurt and your breath puff out in clouds.

Standing just outside the main exit of the medical ward, you grab the fabric as your face turns up to the tall man at your side. He had just shown up from a meeting, and the door closed behind his back as he locked his arms on his vest collar and set his feet shoulder length apart.

“Well now, what’re you doin’ out here?” It was rare for you to be out of the building – open places still scared you. “You alright?”

But you needed to think.

Stiffly smiling, you try to hide your running thoughts from the man who narrows his deep blues at you. He shifts closer, and you can feel his heat melt into you, making your shivering slow for a moment. He made all of it better.

John huffs.

“You’re about as easy to read as anyone, Bird. Go on, then.”

“It’s really not that big of a deal,” You play with your fingers, skin pulling tight. “I’m just overthinking everything.”

“You’re nervous.” He states, glancing ahead with a tilted head and a raised brow at no one.

Under your feet, the snow shrieks as you shuffle, looking to the ground and sighing deeply. There was no point in hiding anything from him and his damn hawk eyes.

“It’s just…I’ve missed so much, y’know?” Your teeth bite your lips as you feel his firm eyes on you, locked onto the side of your face and caressing your visage with their path. You blink out over the base, seeing everyone move from one place to another with a purpose in their steps. “I have no idea what I’ll do with myself all alone.”

Whispering out the last sentence, you look at the ground, lips in a line.

It’s a good while before the Lieutenant speaks, and he sighs deeply before he does. You don’t suppose he’s ever had to deal with something like this before. But he’s learning. All the others at Base and in Bravo Unit had been surprised that the two of you had formed such a tight bond in the limited time you had known each other. John Price wasn’t known to be the easiest person to speak to – especially when traumatized victims were on the other end. His stoic and quite confident attitude was the main deterrent, usually, but his hard eyes and face that rarely showed any emotion were a close second.

But to you, he was the nicest person you had ever spoken to. He never made fun, poked, or prodded, and he certainly didn’t act mean or bossy toward you. John was kind and warm; gentle when you got to know him.

And you quite liked his company.

John’s sigh puffs out over the air, and you grab the sides of his beanie and pull it farther over your head to cover your ears. You send him a curious glance and watch his fingers tighten, one eyelid creasing farther than the other when he looks at you in turn. Locking eyes, you can’t help the small smile that twitches your lips, liking the natural handsomeness of his face. You wonder what a full beard would look like over his cheek beside the current scratchy stubble that you had always known.

His eyes flick to your lips, and his teeth grind against each other for a moment before they snap back to your face.

“They’re sendin’ you out in three days, yeah?” John asks, scratching at his jaw with three fingers before settling his hands back into his vest.

“Yeah.” You affirm, smile turning to a frown. The man tenses minutely beside you before clearing his throat.

“Well, where they shippin’ you off to? Someplace nice I’d imagine. Heard somethin’ about bloody Oregon, but they wouldn’t give me much more than that.” You tilt your head at that, expression turning amused.

“You asked?”

“‘Course.” He raises a brow, and his eyes crinkle down at you. “You expect me not to?”

Face suddenly hotter than the sun, you blink rapidly, snapping your head to look out at the base once more. You may have imagined it, but John’s chest jerks in velvety chuckles you miss due to the ringing in your ears.

What was happening to you?

A small silence wraps its arms around you before you gather the ability to speak again.

“I think it was Washington, actually.”

“Hm, that it?” John frowns to himself, “Lots of people, Love. How are you feelin’ ‘bout it?”

“I don’t really get a choice,” you chuckle, licking your chapped lips as your pulse rises, “whoever has space was kind enough to offer it, how can I say no to that?”

“By tellin’ ‘em you don’t want to.” Price shuffles so he’s standing in front of you, blocking the people you were watching. He splays his hands at his sides and waits, blinking with a loose jaw. You nod an approval, though feel confused.

His hands go to rest on your arms, holding them incredibly light; barely applying pressure but you lean into him anyways. You enjoyed it when he touched you like this – the only person you would allow to do so besides nurses. Your tension softens into pliable clay when he watches you.

You could get lost in them, you knew, his eyes, if you stared for too long. There was an undeniable attraction to the man that you wanted to push away, but couldn’t help yourself. John was everything to you – he brought you books to read, sat with you as you ate in the cafeteria; he sat up with you when you radioed him about nightmares in the small hours of morning.

That memory made you giddy. Price would stay in his barracks – unable to leave because of curfew – but would speak to you over your shared channel. Use that soothing tone of his to make your eyes flicker back into slumber until he hears your soft breath over the line and sighs.

John’s throat releases a grunt, bringing you back to the present. He was staring at you softly, a small smile on his lips. You try not to suck in a soft breath. How long had you been staring at him?

“Focus, Bird.” You can’t stop the mute giggle on your tongue.

“Sorry.”

The Lieutenant's head tilts, and his usual expression shifts back. He studies your face, eyes sliding over to the bandages above your eyebrow.

“If you don’t wanna go, tell ‘em, okay? No one can force you to do anything.” He sighs. “I need you to understand that.”

“...Where else would I go?” You mutter, keeping your eyes locked. “It’s not like I have a home, John.”

His eyes snap away to look at the wall behind you, narrowing. The expression makes you grin, finding it funny when the man thinks so hard. John blinks, cycling back to stare at your lips.

The air heats and in your chest, you feel your heart beat just a tiny bit faster. Grumbling, Price peels back and releases you before his hands travel up to his beanie. He pushes it down farther, lightly ruffling your head in the process.

“Hey!” You huff, annoyed. Your hands flap above your head, shoving his digits away as his chest jumps in low chuckles. “Jerk.”

You shove the fabric from your eyes and beam.

“Couldn’t help myself, Love. Here, let me.” John’s hands find your chin, fingers so delicately, brushing the chilled flesh that immediately warms at his work. One limb stays, while the other goes to fix the position of the hat.

Sucking in a slow breath, you look up into his eyes and blink as he focuses on your head with a concentrated furrow in his brow. How did he always manage to make you feel safe? Take away your worries as if they had never existed? If there was one man on earth that could make all of this better, it was the one standing right in front of you.

It would always be John.

“Will you keep in touch?” You whisper, nervous for the answer, and his eyes momentarily snap to yours as his motion slows. A pause.

“Do you want me to?”

“Yes.”

“Hm, well then, I'll write ‘til you tell me to stop.”

—

The reports make you want to bash your own skill in. In the dim light of your office, you sit into the deep hours of the night in your chair, spare reading glasses on your nose to help you force away the blurriness from fatigue. You had spent the whole day with Wren in the medical ward helping the civvies get settled and the nurses with the workload. Such a large influx of patients had set them back for weeks, but it couldn't be helped. They weren’t the people to push anyone away – you knew that firsthand.

You were still in contact with a few nurses from your own stay all those years ago. Good people.

Swishing another of your signatures on a confidentiality document, you slide it to the side and stifle a yawn with the back of your hand before picking up the next file. Your fingers flick the manilla paper open to where you plan to write gruesome details into the blank lines of the sheets inside, and you just begin to let your ink bleed into the paper when your mind suddenly runs to a brown-haired Brit. Pausing, you blink sleepily before pulling the pen back and setting it on the table with a long sigh.

“Fucking hell.” A groan escapes your lips. This had been going on for hours. You’d try to start something and then the thoughts would get blocked by that damn man.

He was even more handsome than you remembered him. Lightly tapping the tabletop with your nails, you can’t deny the heat that had entered your body when you had seen John again. The coarse beard. The writhing muscle of his thighs paired with that tapered waist.

He had aged beautifully down to the very atoms of his makeup to a point it made your breath go thin; pupils widened in a primal display of need. It was pathetic. But the carnal attraction had always been there along with the normal crush. There was something you had learned a million times over – it was never going to be anyone else but John Price. Even so, it wasn’t for a lack of trying. You’d had plenty of boyfriends throughout the years – small flings that never lasted.

None made you feel as secure as the once Lieutenant’s simple presence had. Wren had told you in the med ward that he was a Captain just the same as you, now. Captain Johnathan Price. If anything, it made you mad that the title had a nice ring to it.

Your face twists into thinly-veiled annoyance. What gave him the right to come waltzing back? You thought he was fucking dead. Instead, you had been ghosted so bad you joined the goddamn military to help cope. Fuck, maybe your therapist had been right all along.

You’re just about to let off a spring of audible curses when a knock on your office door makes you flinch, eyes scrunching before sense finally finds you again.

Can’t I wallow in peace? You ask yourself, hoping Shrike hadn’t gotten into a fistfight at the local bar in town again. I swear I need to put Thrush on watch duty for that woman. Maybe Eagle’ll convince him for me.

“Come in.” You stand as the door opens slowly, hinges echoing out as you slide the reading glasses off your face and toss them down. “I swear if Shrike got suspended again I’m going to hit her over the head with the code-of-conduct manual.”

Snapping your fingers and cracking your neck, you huff when no one responds before turning to the door.

“What’s going–Oh.”

John stood in the doorway, wearing nothing more than a thick black cotton shirt that covered his large arms and hugged just the perfect amount over his triceps. It showcased his large shoulders before being tucked into his cargo pants. For once in your life, you think you’ve seen him without some sort of hat on his person.

Freezing, you stare wide-eyed at him. John frowns from where he lets the door automatically shut, nodding his head towards you firmly in greeting as your heart kickstarts. His large hands enter his pockets like some guilty teenager as you gape at him.

John clears his throat.

“Bird.”

“Get out.” You deadpan, not bothering to hear the man out. Price groans, head tilting to the side to glare at the wall as his jaw clenches.

“Love, would you let me explain–”

“No. Frankly, I’ve had enough adrenaline rushes for one day, you damn jerk. Now, get out of my office.” You begin making your way from around the table; pulse flying through every point in your body.

You can’t be here, John, you clench your fists, please, you can’t be here.

Annoyance sparks in those blues that you love to stare into, but all you do is go to stand right in front of the man with a violet frown that he mirrors.

“Bird.” He says again, setting his feet.

“John.” You raise a brow and cross your arms. The Brit growls, gaze flicking away with a heat to it before wafting back like fog over water.

“What’re you doing here?” He says slowly, trying to keep the peace between the two of you.

“Well,” under your arms, your hands shake, “what the hell do you think? Working the same as everyone else. Or at least I was trying until you showed up.”

“That’s not what I bloody fuckin’...” John trails off, closing his eyes before taking a deep breath and letting the tension in his shoulders loosen. His hands exit his pockets, and you stare as they splay by his waist. “Please, Love. I’m not trying to argue with you.”

“Arguing is the least of what you should be worried about.” Grumbling under your breath you lick your lips as his eyes lock with yours.

There was something there you couldn’t name, but it sat on the tip of your tongue – perhaps close to the emotions of guilt and horror that left the Brit’s jaw tight and his eyebrows constantly furrowed. Had he really never expected to see you again?

Yes. You figure with a heavy heart and a spark of hurt. Had you really been so discardable? In your mind, you had thought that you meant something to him. But maybe that was just another lie.

Letting out a scoff, you roll your eyes before looking away.

“Weren't really many options for me.” You concede a small portion of yourself if only to get him to leave so the way he makes your lungs sputter and face heat can cease. The others would make fun of you for this. A pointless crush on a man you hadn’t stopped thinking about for ages and held a great deal of resentment toward. When would the self-sabotage end with you? “Thought it was a better way to help others like me.”

You turn back and raise an expectant brow. “Happy now?”

John just continues to stare, lips thin and pulling under his beard hair as he raises a hand to itch at his jawline. A growl digs at your throat.

“John. Leave.” Not able to help yourself, you spit out, “if you wanted to quit talking to me all those years ago – you could have just told me instead of making me think you were fucking dead.”

The man’s head immediately flinches back, face scrunching in genuine confusion as his mouth parts. Under his shirt, you see his heart skip a beat.

“What are you sayin’ Bird? I never did anything fucken’ like that. What are you on about?” He shakes his head, “you stopped answering me.”

“The fuck are you saying? No, I didn’t!” Reeling back, you throw your hands above your head in a display of surrender; about to slink back to your desk and try to forget the heat of John’s body and the blaze of his eyes. “God, I give up on you and your stupid accent. I have reports to get done without your presence making me want to vomit.”

“Oh, my presence,” The Captain throws out a humorless chuckle that makes you want to cry. “Eh, you’re angry at me – you have every right to be, Love. I fucked up,” He growls, teeth gnashing, “But don’t fuckin’ lie to me. That is not what bloody happened – I never stopped writing you.”

“What the hell do you mean that’s not what happened?!” Your scream surprises you, with your voice bouncing off the wall like a demented banshee was in the room. You snap back around on quick feet and stalk over to the man. John’s eyes widen at the enraged tone and he blinks in shock as you continue, backing up a single step when you get in his face. “I waited and waited for you to send another letter – I waited months for nothing! Do you know how that felt, John? To-to go over in my head that maybe you never made it back from that Black Op at all? That you were dead somewhere in a fucking jungle or a desert or anywhere? I tried to get in contact with everyone, and nothing panned out. They wouldn’t tell me shit. So don’t stand there and say it never happened like that, because that is exactly how it happened!”

You don’t realize you’re crying until the tears are dripping down your chin, hitting the floor with muffled plops.

John is slack-jawed, eyebrows all the way up on his forehead and orbs stuck on you – on your obvious panic. His breath is heavy, and you feel it spread over your face from how close the two of you were; you had ended up pointing a finger right into the Captain’s peck. Under your harsh press, your flesh felt his pulse flying off the rails. Your nose scrunches as you sniffle, aggressively ripping your limb back to your side. Oh, but he had been so soft under you; his skin beneath that fabric reacting to your own by pulsing to life. John’s tongue wetted his lips.

Scoffing, you take a step back, but the man speaks before you can get far enough away. It was quiet, how he said the words, and his expression was one of genuine confusion and concern. His eyes were brighter than the moon – that gray space rock put to shame by the rolling beauty of his optics that reflect light far better than she ever could. Gentle Selene, how did it feel to be beaten by a man covered in more death and blood than anyone? Who’s skin is tough and callused so perfectly that a child of Ares wants to feel those fingers caress her in forbidden places. Oh, to be kissed and loved by him. To be worshiped like a god.

“What in the hell are you talking about?” It was nothing more than a gasp, and you see his fingers twitch to touch you; to hold you to him as if nothing had ever happened.

“John, I’m not repeating myself.” You sob down a breath, looking away and shrugging pathetically.

“Bird, listen to me. Eh, eh. I…I never stopped sending you letters, yeah?” Blinking, you turn back to him and frown dumbly, your eyes furiously dancing from one wrinkle of his forehead to another. A minute passes where you feel more tears drop to the floor.

“...What?” Confusion laces your eyes, “but I never got anymore after…”

You trail off, letting the sentence die as your heart does.

What does he mean he kept writing letters? I…I waited and I never got any. None of this made any sense, but the man in front of you was never one to lie. Ever.

John takes a step forward and you tense. He freezes, face hard and jaw set beneath his beard. You can tell he’s still confused – just as you are, but his attention is fully on you.

“Can I touch you?” He asks lowly, hands outstretched but never even grazing your shaking shock-filled form. His thick fingers are all separated, the digits lightly curled inwards to the palm. Those hands. Would they even feel the same as they did back then?

But did that matter? Neither of you was the same person anymore. Both of those people had been lost in the annals of history – their story was already over and done. The pages turned. Cover closed.

Those two kind people had died. They were buried together under the ground, bones turning bleach white and wrapped in vines; nothing more than a ghost of a dream.

“Bird?” John whispers, his head tilting down to look at you closer as his chin bumps his chest. His feet move carefully as his hips shift and you feel his body heat like a noose around your neck. Your resolve was slipping, but it had already been fraying when you had first laid eyes on this changeling – this person wearing the Lieutenant’s face and eyes.

John.

You nod without looking at his creased eyelids, and he slips you into his firm hold without a second thought.

“Oh, c’mere, Love.” Standing heavily, you breathe in a deep breath as your head meets his chest, body wound tight. How many times have you dreamed of this? Finding him again despite all of it? It felt…wrong.

You had been sure he was dead. How was he not dead?

“Little Bird, I’m so sorry.” Your eyes widen, and a sharp gasp is ripped from your mouth; lips instantly begin to shake and pull tight.

No, you want to scream, no don’t say that to me, John. Don’t do that to me.

But he mumbles it again into your hair as his hand cups the back of your skull, weakly swaying back and forth in this dim office surrounded by blood and death. His body is like a rock all around you, and as your arms rise to wrap around his waist, you hear his breath shutter down over your forehead; his lungs hitch.

“I thought you died.” You hate the whimper that gets muffled by his shirt as you nuzzle into it. Hate it with a burning passion. When was the last time you had let yourself break like this? Left staining someone's shirt with tears and muttering fears into their chest. But this wasn’t someone, this was John – John had promised you he would come back for you, always.

And so John just holds you tighter and kisses your forehead. He lets you cry. He makes you feel safe where no one else ever could.

The man – a triumphant Orpheus – keeps you close until you can breathe firmly again. Only then does he carefully peel back, and you catch a glimpse of his soft face. The face that you missed ogling as you walked beside him. His hands go to cup your cheeks, thumbs slipping to wipe away tears that clog your vision with his quick eyes falling to study your visage; you liked when John took care of you, even if you knew you could handle it yourself now.

He made everything better.

Peering into his eyes, you catalog the new aspects of his face as your breaths mingle, bodies close and intimate. He had more wrinkles than you remember, and his eyes were even more cold. John’s beard was perhaps the change you liked the most besides the nicely trimmed head hair.

“MacMillan.” He grunts out and you frown as he continues with a sigh. One of his arms goes to slither around your waist, pulling you even closer as if he couldn’t be separated for one more second. “He didn’t like that I was writing you, Love. Said I’d been too distracted. Must have stopped the letters from gettin’ out…bloody fucken’ bastard, he is.”

You hum, content for the first time in a long while. John’s chest moves against yours – pressing into it and making you ache with every fast puff of air. Noticing the rapid movement of his heart, you look deeply into his expression and find his pupils blown wide, a deep heat taking root around the room.

“If I had known, I would have found a way to give ‘em to you myself.” Your body tingles, and your fingers dig into his skin from around his waist as your noses nearly brush. He doesn’t pull back. “You know that, don’t you? I’d have hopped on the first damn plane – shown up on your doorstep. Gear and all.”

“Now, I would have paid to see that, Captain Price.” He purrs, and the vibrations of his chest make your eyelids flutter. “Standing on my porch like a husband who came home from war. Pity.”

Chuckling breathly, you can’t help but giggle back, leaning into his hold on your cheek. You don’t remember ever feeling this happy.

A moment of stolen breaths and wandering touches ensues; beating hearts that make muscles writhe and inner tensions reach a breaking point. Finally together again after so long apart – there were so many things to say to each other.

“Hm, Love?” John mutters as his nose bumps yours, making your head lightly tilt to the side to make his lips brush yours with every panted gasp. You lick your lips and accidentally slide your tongue against the side of the Brit's mouth; you watch his eyes darken with a smirk.

“Yes?” You wonder aloud, eyes hooded, and his gaze narrows on you – a blatant enticing accusation making John’s skin thrum with electricity.

“Can I kiss you?” A breathless grumble.

“Yes.”

Your lips meet with a clash of hellfire and a song of lust, sparks like jumping embers lighting across lit flesh. Digging into his waist, you enjoy the way John’s ribs flare with large lungs as his teeth clatter into yours, the way his grip on your face trails to your neck, digging and making you gasp into his mouth when he slightly presses into your pulse point.

He chuckles pridefully before reconnecting his face to yours, feeling your heart pound outside of your body. The two of you were so close to one another that it was nearly like you were trying to melt into one being – an amalgamation of calluses and milky scars; violence and unspoken words.

The both of you had been waiting for this for years. Ages.

A swipe of his tongue over your lips and suddenly your mouth is wide open, letting the muscle delve into you before retreating once more; leaving strings of saliva as you let him separate. Face hot and breath panting, you both stare at one another with swollen lips, red and bitten. There’s a small moment of quick inhalations and banging chests before your nails suddenly dig into the small of his back, dragging him forward once more as he heaves under your hold.

No need for talking, you could get everything you wanted to say across just by how you bite into his bottom lip, how your knee brushes his crotch and leaves him jolting into you. Groaning into your mouth.

John’s fingers kneed your flesh, every brush like a cattle prod. Without even realizing it, both of you had started to back up, your feet skimming the floor as one of your hands went out behind you to connect with the desk edge.

“Lift.” You mumble into his mouth, and not a second later the man’s large hands grope at your thighs, squeezing once before he effortlessly manhandles you upwards. Your legs spread and go to wrap around his waist, locking at the ankles and producing a deep churning in your gut.

When your backside lands on the desktop, your lips have traveled to lay nipping kisses on John’s neck and under his ear; hand now over his abs and dragging down while your nails leave him shivering. He grunts and clenches his jaw when you bite into his flesh, the delicious tickle of beard hair brushing your nose as you watch with feral satisfaction upon the flush on his complexion.

The Captain’s hands run up and down your hips fervently, mapping out the flesh above your loose sweatpants. Before long there’s the feeling of pressure forming above your core, a deep imprint of tented cargo pants leaving a familiar feeling of passion leaking out into your panties. The both of you were utterly addicted to the other.

“Eager?” You breathily wonder, teasing, leaving another hickey on John’s pulse point as he side-eyes you with blown pupils. Your gaze only catches a flicker of a smirk before his hands suddenly bore down into the skin of your thighs and his hips cant into your core.

Gasping out a moan, your fingers twist into his shirt, face falling onto his shoulder.

“J-jerk!” You keen, face hot, and mouth open to help you suck down air before he does the same motion again, liking how you look when his erection rubs the right spots. Shaking, you feel John leaving hot open-mouthed kisses on your skin, beard coarsely stimulating your already warm skin. Under his unrelenting hold, your legs quiver to try and move faster.

Smug bastard, he was enjoying this.

“Now, then, who’s eager?” A confident superiority was stuck to the tone like the slick was making your underwear stick to your slit. It felt dirty, but you liked when he talked like that – tried to use your words against you as his own pleasure was making him go slack-faced.

How would it feel to have him moving inside of you? Leaving you sobbing from pleasure as your shared release dripped over the floor and his veins caught your ridges just right?

Your back arches into him, eyes wide and staring at the ceiling as his hand presses into your tailbone to angle you upwards into him as he groans into your shoulder and stutters his animalistic pace. The feeling was unlike any other you had experienced; you could feel the electricity every time he stimulated your clit, leading to involuntary jerks on your part and thin breaths. There was barely time to suck down air over the lightheadedness.

“I-” Your voice cuts as cold wetness slides down your folds, and you shiver despite boiling. “I think you’re the one rutting into me like a bitch in heat, John.”

“Well, you’d be right,” he growls, and your fingers slide down his shirt before you can slip into his pants. The Brit sucks in a sharp breath and his other hand, once on your thigh, goes to slam onto the desktop in a quick motion when you play with the strap of his boxers. “Fuckin’ minx.”

You smirk, angling your head to the side to watch his normally stoic face begin to break when your nails trace the trail of hairs that lead down. Close but not close enough to where his cock strains violently; twitching as the telltale leak of precum stains his underwear and pants. You doubt your appearance down there is any better. Everything sticks to each other so tightly that you were slightly worried your desk would need a deep clean.

John’s eyes are closed tightly, teeth clenched tight when your nails trace circles along his prominent ‘V’ line while his abdominal muscles tighten to an attractive degree of internal yearning. Around his waist, your legs are vibrating with eagerness, your skin so sensitive it was like every nerve was being fired. Oh, you liked that look on his face more than anything.

“You’ve got to say it, Love.” You watch as his biceps tighten and strain, hand over your desk clenching into a fist behind you. Your hand dips lower in his boxers as your core begs for something to fill it – anything to make the cum drip out of you and give overstimulated aftershocks. Your other limb goes to pop the front button of his cargos as your sweaty face angles itself to connect your nose with the Captain’s larger one, smashing against it desperately. “Open your eyes, John. Tell me what you want me to do.”

Breathing over his visage, he flickers his eyes open with a small struggle and you almost moan at the heaviness of them as they gaze at you. He says nothing to you, but his digits at your tailbone leave their position to mirror your own actions. Your confidence stutters when John deftly pulls at the string and slips his rough pads under your panties, stopping on your body where you wait on his.

Your eyes slightly widen and your heart beats impossibly faster.

So that’s what this is…some kind of cat-and-mouse game? Alright.

The desk is uncomfortable under you, but you find you don’t even care anymore. Staring into John’s unblinking eyes you raise a brow.

“Not saying anything?”

“I’ll leave it to you. Do what you wish, Princess.” Your fingers experimentally skim to the base of his cock, playing with the hairs and feeling his fingers mirror, stopping just above your aching clit and barely touching you. This would be easier with the clothes off, less awkward angles if you would just fuck each other like you both desperately wanted. Raw and fast, no time to breathe before starting another round to make up for lost time until the two of you were too tired and sensitive to even rut into each other without passing out. But the two of you were too currently obsessed with battling wills – this was a game that made you even wetter, and him harder.

But, fuck, it physically hurt not to have his dick inside of you right now. Maybe a substitute could work?

Your fingers grip him inside his boxers, and before you can laugh at his throat-strangled moan of carnal pleasure, his own are delving into your drenched heat relentlessly.

“Fuck!” You whimper, hips jerking as your mouth falls open, eyes rolling back. He has the audacity to steal your laugh from you and throw it back as it puffs out over your cheeks.

When John feels the drowning wetness stemming from your slit and he curls his digits, he can’t help the vile smirk that infects his lips; a raised eyebrow, and a comment on his hot breath.

“All this for me, hm?” You don’t answer, too lost in the blue of his eyes and the sparks that emulate at having another living being pulsing over your tight walls.

“S-shut it.” Groaning, you pant trying to move your hips before he growls in front of you, making you pause as your hand around his cock twitches.

“None of that, now.” There was no amusement in his eyes, but a steel-like determination and a demented tilt of his head as his forehead connected with yours. “We’re gonna help each other, yeah? Make it a little game of who can get off first. Can you do that for me, Dear?”

Where has your confidence gone? Has it leaked out of you?

You whine as your eyes crinkle, desperate for something on your clit despite the feeling of being stuffed by two of John’s large fingers. John frowns, and his thumb hits the perfect bundle of nerves like he could read your mind. Writhing, you feel your eyes wet with pleasure-tears.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Your mind is going so fast that it’s blank, only able to focus on John and how his hips sputter to try and fuck himself on your hand. He was just as needy as you were, skin flushed and muscles tight under his clothes.

“C’mon, Love.” He groans, nipping at your wet and red mouth and pulling at your lip as his calluses rub in small sparking circles, trying to get you to respond. Your hips careen forward to chase him. “Where’s my sweet Little Birdie gone, eh? She’s so wet for me, can’t have lost already. Listen, now, okay?”

He begins to fuck you with his fingers, moving painfully slow in and out, pushing and prodding as you moan and gasp when he runs over the tense walls. But you do listen – God, how couldn’t you?

“You hear that?” Your eyes widen and your hand tightens over his cock like a vice. Your own cunt was so soaked that every motion of John’s fingers made an obscene squelch, and your walls tighten in retaliation around him as he groans deeply, feet shoulder length apart. “There she is.”

You match his pace with your hand, collecting his precum at the tip and spreading it down the shaft as you both get each other off with fast breaths and locked eyes.

“T-that’s a girl.” John can’t help the way he moves faster, eager to release the strain on his balls, his fingers rapidly moving and thumb pressing tightly as you squeeze around him. “Fuck.” He growls, hunching over you and taking a peek down to where your sweatpants and panties strain to hold his hand inside as you work him. “Fuck,” he repeats, “such a lovely fuckin’ cunt of yours. Grippin’ my fingers like a damn noose, you are. Can’t wait to—”

A strangled whine breaks through his clenched teeth when you twist your hand, creating a rhythm of your own that makes sweat break out on John’s forehead.

“Bloody…” his head falls to your shoulder, where you lick and bite at the side of his ear with hard teeth, thighs burning as you jump every time his thumb weakly stutters over your clit. Your ankles dig into his tailbone.

“C’mon, John,” you gasp, sweat trailing your spine and soaking into your clothes as the sound of rabid slopping echoes off the walls along with loud moans and guttural grunts. “This is what you wanted, right?” He bites into your shoulder through your shirt.

The Brit was close, you could feel it in the fast careening of his hips; the way his dick in your soft hand was twitching and covered in just as much wetness as your splayed slit was, where John’s fingers continue to spread you violently wide. But his motions had faltered, but still, that tightening in your belly was there even as he slowed at his impending release. Your pleasure stemmed from seeing him lose it under the twist of your wrist and the lick of your tongue under his ear.

His groans were getting louder, body hunching in around you as the desk knocked into his knees.

“Little more,” you like the way his beard burns your neck flesh, how his body pulls you even tighter against him so you won’t take away his climax at the last second. “C’mon, let me feel it.” He gasps and twitches a whine stuck deep before it is expelled from his lungs as he shakes like a leaf against you.

He shoots his cum down to stain his boxers and cargo pants and you look down in a daze to look at the patch, but his locked fingers inside of you involuntarily curl all the way up, pressing into that spongy spot as you clit it pinched so tight your eyes widen. Before you can stop it, you're moaning out loudly and breathlessly, back arching and releasing just like that. Spazaming, it’s cutting through you like a knife, filthy stickiness coating John’s hand in a thick layer in an instant as your walls clench.

The both of you shake into one another, bodies coated and clothes wreaked – fingers and hands not willing to part from the other's wreaked pants.

Whining, you force your flicking eyes open and feel John breathing heavily into your neck. Sucking down fast breaths, you lick your lips and state, perhaps a little smugly, “I…I win.”

A panting moment of sweat-coated silence.

John starts laughing, deep bouts of shaking movements that make you follow. In the dim office atop a ruined desk, you both lean into one another, clean hands digging into the others’ clothes and hair. The lingering pleasure was addictive.

“Fucken’ hell…yeah, Love, guess you did.” The brown-haired man pulls back, and your hand falls from his cock and lands in your lap. You unlock your ankles and shiver when his fingers brush inside of you when he takes them out, teasingly running over your overstimulated clit and huffing, amused when you whimper pathetically and slap his hand away. Glaring, he smirks and you roll your eyes. Raising a brow as sweat falls from your nose, you shift over the wood and stare at John as his hidden emotions wash over you in the form of blue water.

You can’t really think that I’m done with you? You want to say.

“What do I get, then?” Your thighs twitch, legs still splayed around his wide hips. He frowns teasingly.

“What’s that?”

“I won, didn’t I?” Staring intensely, both of your hands go to hold you up behind you, leaning back so you can place weight on them. Already, your slit is aching again, your navel pounding as the room smells like sex and messy release. “I want a prize.”

“That how it works, then, Captain?” John sighs, crossing his arms and puffing his chest as your leg moves up and down his thigh, “You expect to be rewarded? Hm, you’re in the wrong profession, you are, Love.”

“No,” you smirk, “I’m not.”

Reaching, your fingers grasp the bottom of your shirt, feeling John’s eyes bore into your skin as you pull the article over your head and let it hit the floor. You hear his breath get shallow, and, disliking how the cum staining your lower body feels, you lift your hips and slide both your panties and sweats to your ankles with a quick motion.

Looking up at John, you smile innocently, only clothed in a bra.

“Take off my shoes for me?” His blue eyes are barely visible anymore, black already taking over as his piercing look stays on your shiny cunt like a dog with a bone. You see his breath get shallow and the hard-on under his clothes once more grow larger. “John?” Prompting him to move, you take one of your hands and spread your folds.

The man’s hands twitch, feet shuffling, but other than that he stays stone still until you speak once more, even if he’s almost physically vibrating at the sight of you.

“I’ll let you clean me up if you hurry up and get my clothes off.” His large hands snap to your laces, untying them expertly and pulling them from your feet so they clatter to the ground. The remaining fabric follows.

Giggling, your breath gets caught when John’s fingers trail up your ankle, his free hand going to lay firmly at your opposite knee. Using one of your hands you reach up and unclip your bra, slipping it off your shoulders. The reports on your desk are all most likely ruined – you’ll need to rewrite them tomorrow – but for right now you’re transfixed on the sight in front of you.

John looks into your eyes and utters, “you sure you know what you’re doin’ Sweetheart?”

“Take off your shirt.” You smile in return, your fingers going to slip into your eager cunt, still burning from John’s long-gone relentless digits. Your eyelids flutter at the fire. “And your pants. I wanna feel your muscles movin’ when your tongue cleans up my cum.”

His chest is heaving like a wounded animal, and you whine when you curl your own fingers in your heat, wishing it was John’s dick. Fuck, you needed him to hurry up already. Your digits couldn’t satisfy you as he could – when you had been stroking him you had marveled silently at the girth, the sizable veins that pulsed in your grip when you squeezed.

Watching like a hawk, John slowly moves and pulls off his shirt as you lazily fuck into your wet entrance. You spy his large pecs and nicely shaped waist as chiseled abs make your mouth water and lips part in soft puffs of breath. The coarse hair over him was the same shade as his beard, and you followed the trail with greedy eyes until it disappeared below his unbuttoned and stained pants.

Your chest gets just a little bit together; cunt tightening dangerously.

“You’re droolin’, lovely,” John smirks down at you, “careful now, don’t wanna finish on yourself. Just makin’ more of a mess for me, hm? Naughty.” He strips off his pants and boxers, kicking his boots off, and you stare wide-eyed at the spring of his dick, noticing the way it hits against his stomach with a molten red tip.

You would have gotten on your knees and sucked him off, but he beat you to it.

The Captain forsakes his own needs and does as he’s ordered – he kneels to the ground and levels his face where your cum stains your skin and nudges your fingers out of the way. He begins to lick along your thighs as your wet hand goes to slick his hair back, gripping the strands and observing the phenomena below you with a slack jaw.

Oh, hell.

He stares at you as he does it, cataloging the flesh that makes you jump and the places that leave you shaking with need. His tongue sucks and bites, but never goes where you want it to, instead, he just spreads your legs farther and makes comments as you grunt above him.

“Such a mess, Princess…I’ll have to take care of you.”

“That’s it, Love, fuck my face – try and get off. Good girl.”

“Fuckin’ delicious, that is, eh? Here, have a taste.”

You’re left a shaking mess by the time the remnants of your orgasm are traded for saliva, his muscle slurping up every droplet without complaint as his fingers leave bruises in your thighs from how tight he has to hold them to keep the limbs apart. This wasn’t going to plan for you.

Whining and whimpering, you ache for him, your lower body throbbing as more slick begins flowing. At this rate, he was going to suck you raw and leave beard burn all over your inner thighs.

“J-John,” you plead, disheveled as your hand grips his hair tighter, biting into the brown whisps. You were going to climax without him even entering you.

“Hm?” He groans out, licking a long stripe over your entrance but never sinking into it. Your body shivers and jolts, chasing that friction but he moves away too soon. You nearly sob. No, no, no. I can’t take it. “What is it, then?”

“Fuck me.” You feel the twist of his lips more than see it.

“Yeah? That what you want?”

“I swear to God, John–!” He stands so quickly that you yelp, legs wrapping behind him as his arms go around your backside and hike you into his hold.

Moaning loudly, you feel the press of his cock over your slit, whining and immediately trying to shift in his grip to attempt to slip him inside of you with a twisted face. But the Brit’s hand on the small of your back is tight, keeping you trapped against him.

“Not yet.” He growls in his ribcage, and you connect his forehead with yours and force yourself not to beg as he narrows his eyes at you. But you're not a fool, you can practically hear his cock trying to move against your heat; his thighs quivering. “Fuckin’ hell – you’re impatient. Your whole squad like that?”

“You’re a damn tease.” You huff, rubbing and pressing your nipples over his chest hair to stop the throbbing in them. “Ruder than I remember. Didn’t even let the girl suck you off.”

“Then you’re gonna hate what I do next.”

Your confusion bleeds into your expression as he situates himself in your desk chair, leaning back into it with a groan and squeezing you in his arms. His dick slaps at your backside when he lets you go and just stares. Furrowing your brow, he tilts his head down at you as your arms rest on his pecks, playing with the hair there and tracing scars.

“Go on.” The Brit prompts with a tilt of his head toward you, a nonchalant expression on his face that makes him look more like he used to – outwardly not caring but studying every move and twitch of your body.

He watches you like a wolf.

“What?” Questioning, your head pulls back as your legs fall limp at his sides to dangle above the floor.

He huffs. “You said you wanted your prize – take it, then.”

“...b-but…”

“Go on. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

You glance down, utter exasperation showing on your face, “how am I supposed to…?”

“I’m sure you’ll figure that out, Love.” John’s hands go to sit on the armrests, fingers swishing as they hang off the ends. Your face burns, annoyance filtering into your veins as your eyelids crease.

Trying to prove a point, you stave off the awkwardness of the angle and shift upwards, using John’s broad shoulders as a way to lift yourself up. Taking a shallow breath, your breasts are shoved into his face when you free one of your hands, going to grasp him to line the joining up. You feel him distantly nipping at the supple flesh, his hands over the rests jerking as his legs open wider under you. When you grab him, he grunts, and your nails leave crescent marks on his skin as you clench your jaw as it rests on his head. Huffing, you jerk him off a few times to make his body writhe before, in one fell motion, letting yourself fall onto his dick.

You both let out sounds that are more animal than human, deep wails and keens that shake the office walls.

“Fuck, John,” you make noise like a damn porno, head slotted in his neck as you shake and jolt this way and that with rapid nerves that shoot down your arching spine.

He was tearing you open – ripping you apart with the spearhead that curves so deeply you struggle to breathe correctly. Jesus, was he in your throat? Gasping, you feel so full in such a unique way it leaves you addicted, your cunt so tight around John’s cock that the walls inside of you quiver with every small movement. When he gasps out breaths with his closed-tight eyes, you notice the way your body convulses, red-hot pleasure rocketing to your brain and pumping endorphins before clenching around him.

Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. Shit, I can feel his goddamn veins digging into me! Your small mewls of pleasure spill out even as you both stay still to adjust. Sex had never felt like this before.

John spasms, hands immediately snapping to your thighs to keep you there as he wheezes.

“Fuckin’....christ!” Blinking rapidly, you bite into John’s neck to ground yourself, hips rocking despite his pleas. “So tight. Squeezin’ my cock just perfect. Take it, Love. Fuck, c’mon, take it.”

Your slick and his precum make it easier, the wet squelching once more resuming at a faster pace than before. You release his skin, intent on chasing after the orgasm building around this man’s dick that hits every spot like it was target practice.

“John, feel so good,” you moan, breathing loudly as the Brit watches you take him like it was nothing.

“H-hell.” He groans long, hands helping you jump when your legs shake too violently every once and a while. He’ll have blood dripping from his shoulders from how hard you dig into him, but watching your cunt swallow him over and over again is payment enough as a ring of milky white forms at his base. “Look at you. Fuckin’ good girl. Keep it steady, now.”

“P-please,” you sob, eyes shiny as your walls ache – your needy clit was burning. John watches wide-eyed; blues boiling. “Clit. I need…”

Trailing off you connect your lips to his when one of his thumbs goes to your nerve bundle, quickly working at it in tight circles that molds your lips onto a silent scream. John whimpers when your pussy clamps, his senses all covered in you – your scent and how your tits bounce so beautifully – a second later he can’t help himself any longer.

His feet plant themselves to the floor, and he’s slipping his tongue into your mouth as his hips rapidly thrust, skin on skin the only sound above high moans and muffle pleas of release.

It was far past words anymore, just feral animals seeking an earth-shattering orgasm at the other’s hand. Drool was slipping down both of your lips, splattering down chests and cheeks as sloppy kisses miss marks.

So close. So close.

The snake was coiling, walls shaking and alternating between squeezing too tight and letting John hit as far into you as possible. You suddenly wail into his hot mouth, eyes rolling back when he angles his thrusts back towards himself as he slouches in the chair.

“There it is. Bloody bastard.” John hits it again, leaving you collapsing onto his chest as his hands go to wrap around your back, large arms using you to stay still as he pants ferally, eyes wild as they stare down at your blessed-out expression. Fuck, were you even able to speak anymore beyond whines and gasps? The clench of your pussy?

“Don’t worry, Love,” One thumb still plays with your overstimulated clit, making tears splatter his chest hair and get stuck as every sliver of skin that’s coated in sweat and joined slick. “I’ll make it up to you, yeah, I’ll fuck you proper later.”

Your eyes roll back, back arching into him. God, was this not fucking you properly? But then again, John was a gentleman at the end of the day – his idea of proper was probably a bed and a glass of water on the nightstand.

But this was so much better. The neediness of it, the emotional release besides the physical. John could fuck you anywhere at any time, as long as you got to hear him speak to you like that. Breathless, whiny like he never was and probably never will be outside the company of just you – even after being separated, you knew he was never one to do things like this.

“Tell me you’ll let me cum inside this cunt, eh, Love,” his accent is stronger as he gasps, raspy, with muted growls, before his head tilts back behind the chair’s backing. He speeds up until you were sure the chair was going to break in two, the material squealing. “Let me breed you like I always wanted to, yeah? Watch that spent cunt drown before I pump back in and stuff you full again. Please, Bird, let me…Let me…!”

You're about to lose it, hands raking down his chest and legs numb before you can gasp out a single sentence before the rope snaps.

“God, John, don’t…don’t let any go to waste.” You moan and slot your head under his jaw, feeling his beard bristles burn your nose when you finally let the snake strike.

Freezing, your lower body jolts as if connected to an electrical line, walls constricting around the foreign entity inside of you as it continues to chase its own high. One firm thrust, two sloppy ones, before a groan so loud you feel it reverberate in your heart enters the heavy air. There is an undeniable fullness to your womb that shoots deeply into your being, splattering your thighs and staining John’s abdomen. From there it’s small instinctual thrusts as your ringing ears twitch at the sound of cum dripping on the floor. Panting, you can’t help the fucked-out way your mouth parts to release a satisfactory sigh at the feeling of euphoria in your brain and cunt.

It felt like you were floating on air when John finally started rubbing a hand up and down your back, shaky fingers hard and sure as they trace old marks.

Still short of breath, the two of you revel in each other's company with palpitating hearts and half-lidded eyes. Still slotted under his jaw, the brown-haired man mutters softly.

“New?” As he taps a bullet wound on your right side that’s been healed for years now.

“Hm,” uttering softly with a hoarse voice, you smile weakly with warm cheeks, “old. Three years.”

“...I have a lot to catch up on, then, yeah?”

“Very much. But don’t worry, I’ll be patient.” He chuckles, making your form move with him. You take a deep breath, finally feeling yourself come back to earth, albeit on unsteady feet.

A good bout of calming silence forms before you speak through a haze of fatigue. It had to be late by now – incredibly late. Maybe just using the pullout bed would be better than doing the walk of shame back to your barracks. John could join you here, you decide internally.

“How did you know I’d even speak to you in the first place?” You ask as the man shifts under you, lightly lifting your black and blue thighs as you begin to whine quietly; he shushes you with a calm presence. Delicately pulling out, he lets his spent cock exit your red and swollen hole as more combined fluid falls from you to run over his hips and pool below. Resettling you, he brings a hand to the back of your head and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“The radio. You kept it.” You grin shakily, feeling him run his fingertips down your spine, finding more milky scars and caressing them with callused hands.

You’d have to tell him all of your stories later, and in turn, he’ll tell you his. There was a lot to learn, but this certainly wasn’t a bad spot to start. Nuzzling farther into his neck, you sigh dreamily as his pulse sings you to sleep like a lullaby. Before you drift off you whisper out a reply that leaves John shivering.

“...I guess I did, didn’t I?”

TAGLIST SIGN-UP || Here

TAGS:

@blueoorchid, @jxvipike, @revrse, @shuttlelauncher81, @bruhhvv, @kittiowolf210, @antigonusyuki, @aerangi, @spikespiegell, @lora21, @330bpm-whiplash, @michirulol, @john-pricee, @cl0wncxre, @jade-jax, @anna-banana27, @lothiriel9, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghost-with-a-teacup, @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore, @bespectacledhuman, @uberraschungg, @neelehksttr, @wolfyland07, @shoe1412, @jaimiespn, @dilfsaremyfavourite, @astronaut2029, @shmaptin, @levietc

(if anyone has any idea why some aren't working I would love to know lmao)

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peachiieu · 3 months

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Heyy, I really like your writting. You're really talented making these fanfictions/headcanons (or I don't don't know how to call them). Can you make "the ninja with sensitive reader". How would they deal with and treat them? Thank you for reading it! Have a nice day<33

the ninja with sensitive!reader

pairings: main 6 x reader (separate, ninjago)

warnings: insecurity, cussing, slight mention of violence

authors note: yayy first request!! sorry i haven’t gotten to this request quickly. thank youu, i’m trying to get good at writing and i love doing it :) i hope u enjoy, sorry this is so short 💗

word count: 1.1k

COLE BROOKSTONE

cole is probably one of the most understanding people when it comes to emotions

he’s somewhat a nurturing person and is proud to validate you and many people’s feelings

he tells you feeling more than others do is a gift although you don’t think it is, others are too apathetic and selfish

gives you ways to deal with disrespectful people in situations, walking away personally helps him and telling someone what they said made him upset so they can resolve it, apologies are shared

if someone offends you on purpose and it’s obvious, they insult you and continue doing it then he’ll confront them

“dude, what’s your problem?”

if you crave touch when you’re upset, he’ll cuddle with you in bed so you’re warm and feel loved in his arms, under the soft and fuzzy blankets

JAY WALKER

jay’s sensitive too, often becoming jealous and upset when you talk to other guys without him

it’s not that he doesn’t trust you, he just gets insecure sometimes

he can get a bit frustrated if you become worried about him talking to other girls, not romantically of course, but understands where you come from

if someone says something degrading to you, he’s immediately standing up for you and even starts talking crap about them and insulting them right in their face

constantly voices his love for you, shows it through every possible way you can imagine; touch, words, acts, time, etc

because he rants and talks quickly, most of the time he doesn’t realize he’s said something to hurt you until you start sniffling or your eyes are visibly red

immediately apologizes and feels bad, reassuring that you’re perfect and the only person he could ever truly love

KAI SMITH

kai gets nervous when he upsets you, if he says something rude he’ll apologize while stuttering, unusual of him

“wh— what, no, that’s not what i meant… sorry babe…”

he gets overprotective if anyone dares to say something slightly offensive about or towards you

right after someone disrespects you, his eyebrows furrow as he turns to them, a cold look on his face as he tries to intimidate them

“you wanna repeat that again?”

he’ll gladly beat that persons face in if you ask him to, only wanting you to feel confident in yourself and to have good self-esteem

mostly reassures you by telling you everything will be okay and that not all people in your life will be respectful, that some will be asses and there’s nothing you can do about it besides remove them from your life

in attempts to make you laugh, he insults the one who made you feel bad and kisses your cheek, rubbing your shoulder in a comforting way

LLOYD GARMADON

lloyd can be sensitive too because he gets insecure about things, so he understands exactly how you feel

he gets awkward when you’re in need of words of affirmation and reassurance but tries his best, he didn’t have much love when he was younger so he doesn’t have much experience with comforting others or being comforted

when someone’s rude to you, he’ll try to calmly talk to that person and tell them to knock it off but he’s secretly upset about it

the only reasons why he attempts to be as polite as he can with that person is because he believes in second chances and doesn’t want you to see him in a bad mood

he realizes when he’s said something to upset you and apologizes for it, says he won’t say it again and feels ashamed

helps you write things down and voice your emotions, tells you not to take what people say or do personally because they’re probably just having a bad day, it doesn’t validate their actions but lets you know they don’t necessarily have something against you

NYA SMITH

nya’s a bit sensitive but is good at hiding it, she doesn’t want others to worry about her and believes she’s fully capable of taking care of herself

she’s extremely protective of you and like her brother, won’t hesitate to go after anyone who disrespects you

although she gets impatient easily when things don’t go her way, she won’t back down until the disrespectful person apologizes and admits their wrongs

reassures you whenever you feel bad about being sensitive, tells you people are dickheads but you can’t control what they say or do

gives you hugs and kisses on your temples, saying she understands why you’re upset and that it’s okay

she’s such a loving person and cares so much, that makes her an amazing person but she doesn’t always know how to comfort you

what she knows how to do well is just be in your presence, not talking unless you want her to or if you want her touch

ZANE JULIEN

zane always tells you it’s okay to feel how you feel, you can’t control it, and you should be proud of being able to have feelings because there will be ups and downs in life

whenever you get particularly upset about something, he’ll make you your favorite comfort food and drink while you talk about your feelings

as he knows some people prefer emotional validation over logical ways to deal with emotions and scenarios and vice versa, he gives you both

helps you learn to walk away from situations if you don’t feel good about a conversation or how someone’s acting

if someone says or acts disrespectfully to you, he’ll either walk away with you or have a full-on argument with the person, depending on how upset you are about it

he thinks about what he says before he goes through and says it, sometimes not fully thinking it through and accidentally hurting your feelings

when he realizes he upset you, he apologizes and says he’ll do better not to hurt you next time the two of you talk

he’s overall really sweet to you if you’re upset, is surprisingly understanding with emotions, and always lets you know your feelings are valid

what he will criticize you about is how you act based on how you’re feeling, for example, if you’re sad and lash out at someone, he’ll talk to you so you can comprehend the full extent of your actions

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the-amazing-digital-guardians-au · 3 months

Text

The Amazing Digital Circus: Guardian AU

My TADC AU is now up and running! I will be making a poster, character cards, general art, and possibly comics based around the storyline. Here’s the information!:

Description:

Caine is the ringmaster and ruler of The Amazing Digital Circus, but there are some things that even he can’t control. NPCs go rogue all the time, often acting out and trying to genuinely hurt the circus members as they go on adventures. Because of this, Caine has always appointed two circus members he deems the most worthy to protect him and others from danger. They have been different over the years (mainly due to abstractions), but currently Jax and Ragatha are his Guardians. The two of them are more privileged than the regular circus members: they are allowed to wield weapons, swear, indulge in vices, and the like as long as they do so in private, do their jobs well, and don’t disrupt the "family-friendly" atmosphere of the circus. Caine trusts them…or so he says. And to make matters worse, it looks like NPCs are forming an uprising to overthrow Caine, led by none other than a revived Gummigoo! Travel through the colorful world of TADC, but covered in a grimy layer of violence, corruption, and deception.

Who will the story focus on:

Caine

Abel

Pomni

Jax

Ragatha

Kinger and Queenie

Princess Loo, Gummigoo, and other/more NPCs as the canon Digital Circus web series progresses

Genre:

Religious and psychological horror

Comedy

Action

Philosophical(?)

Content Warning - Anything produced for this AU may have any of the following elements:

Religious themes

Implied/referenced torture

Blood (No gore, but this may change in the future)

Mental health issues

War themes

Gambling

Alcohol and Drugs

Foul Language

This AU is recommended for ages 16+

…Wait, there’s more?!

FAQ:

Can I make fanart?

Yes, fanart is encouraged and always appreciated! Just make sure to credit me as the creator when needed. Do not use my creations if you are hateful/racist/sexist/anti-LGBTQ or just problematic in any other way. I don’t want what I make to be associated with these things. As for NSFW stuff…I would prefer if you didn’t. (Okay, well…now that I think about it, sure, go ahead, go crazy. But please don’t send it to me, I don’t really wanna see it. And tag it appropriately! Be mindful of others!) Ocs are allowed!! Ships (Canon x Canon, Canon x OC, OC x OC, whatever) are allowed! Tag me in anything as long as it’s SFW. Seriously, do whatever you want!

What are the religious themes?

Christianity. I am a Christian myself, but I also really enjoy religious horror and researching different religions. Does Pomni represent Jesus in this story? Not really. But, I will be using themes/images of Christianity (like angels, for example) to enhance the horror. I also like studying Japanese and Chinese mythological figures, purely out of interest. I will never try to push my beliefs onto the audience in any way. People can believe in whatever they want!

Are there any ships?

Bunnydoll (Jax x Ragatha) is the main ship. It is mostly implied/referenced and nothing overly romantic happens. The story focuses on their emotional bond since they are both Caine’s guardians. If you don’t like the ship, please don’t be rude to people who do. And if you do like the ship, don’t be rude to people who don’t! There’s enough hate on the internet already. Just be mindful that we all like different things, and have fun!

How will the story be told?

Through comics, probably. It’s easier for me to write things in a document (as a script) and then draw, so it will take time. I will also make art on the side that may or may not have canon information or events. It depends.

What inspired you?

The 70s (lots of yellow, orange and brown colors), Skinnamarink, religious horror, vintage Las Vegas, vintage snacks, and other random stuff. I have specific inspirations for different characters. But my inspiration to even start this project is definitely @burrotello and The Amazing Digital Fight Club AU. It’s awesome!

Can I ask questions about characters, the story, etc?

Yes, but if it’s an answer I don’t want to reveal yet…well, we’ll see what happens. Sometimes, I will make drawings where a character reacts or responds!

#the amazing digital circus #tadc #tadc au #tadc original character #horror #the amazing digital guardians

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another-lost-mc · 1 year

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Hii, first of all, i love your writing 💕 and I hope you're doing well.

How do you think the bros would react watching the movie Se7en?

I think it would be interesting to see their reactions since the theme surrounds the seven deadly sins.

a/n: I love this movie! I re-watched while I worked on this since it's been a while. I wrote the blurbs in order of the sins as they're portrayed in the film.

➤ watching the movie se7en | the demon brothers

1k words | x gn!reader | nsfw | violence and dark/disturbing themes, demons thinking about demon things, movie spoilers

BEELZEBUB | the gluttony scene

Any other time, he'd be joking that if he had to die, he wants to die eating. He understands that now's probably not the best time to tell you that.

He feels a bit sad for some reason. He's not sure if it's the poor bloke's death on screen or the movie's gritty atmosphere in general.

Ravenous hunger has its downsides, but most of the time he enjoys eating food. He can understand why being forced to eat would be emotional and literal torture for someone.

He knows he could eat that much pasta without breaking a sweat, but he doubts it would be comforting to you so he doesn't say it out loud.

He wonders how much he'd have to eat for his body to break down in protest of finally being too full, but he keeps that to himself too.

MAMMON | the greed scene

It's not a horror movie but the dark vibe still gives him the creeps.

He hasn't had to look away (yet) but he tucks you closer to his side so you can cuddle. You can hide your face in his chest for the gross parts if they bother you, he won’t tease you.

He sorta gets an inkling about the greed motif— something about a scummy lawyer and money trading hands is his first guess about why this guy was targeted.

Eh, close enough.

There are a lotta ways to kill someone with greed without actually killing them, y’know.

(He doesn’t wanna talk about ‘em though. He doesn’t want you to think badly of him.)

BELPHEGOR | the sloth scene

What the actual fuck.

He was feeling a bit sleepy watching the movie up to this point, but he's not anymore.

He understands the interpretation of his sin, but he's surprised to see such an ugly version of it in a human world movie like this.

If he senses that you're uncomfortable, he tries to distract you until the scene ends.

Now seems like a great time to pause the movie so you can both get up and get a drink, or stretch—or maybe go for a nap if you're tired and don't want to finish it right now.

(He's going to make sure you don't have bad dreams after this.)

ASMODEUS | the lust scene

He's had custom sex toys made before, but something like this? Yeesh.

Literally fucking someone to death seems so brutal, so unromantic. This isn't how he would do it, but he doesn't tell you that; he doesn't want to scare you.

(If he had to kill someone using his sin, he'd fuck them before ripping them open from stomach to sternum.)

(If he had to kill you with his sin, he’d make love to you until you eventually fall asleep. Your death will be instant and painless before he cuts out your heart and eats it.)

He notices that this part of the movie made you squirm in your seat more than the others so far.

Maybe a warm bath and cuddling in his bed will help you relax once the movie's over. He’s suddenly overcome with the urge to hold you.

LUCIFER | the pride scene

It feels anti-climactic compared to some of the other portrayals of sin so far, but he appreciates the simplicity. He was afraid it would be needlessly gruesome like the others.

Pride is insidious, the mother of all sins, the first deadly bloom that causes all others to fester and rot on the vine.

He can’t help the way his mind wanders after this. As an angel, he tried to resist sin. As a demon, he embraces it. Humans are weak and he knows for many, pride is their downfall.

You might not believe you could be pushed to make such a fatal choice, but Lucifer senses the way your own blend of pride lingers within you too.

He keeps silent about those thoughts and he wraps his arm around you for the rest of the film.

LEVIATHAN | the envy scene

He’s unusually quiet. He doesn’t complain or whine about how boring it is, and he doesn’t reach for his handheld either. Sometimes he looks puzzled by what’s on screen, and other times he seems contemplative.

He’s a little surprised by the ending. Speechless almost. He understands envy, but to do all this?

And the part with the wife, well...he thinks it's just a bit of an overreaction, don't you?

He can’t help but glance at you once the movie's over. He thinks about life before you and life with you now; he can't imagine life without you in it anymore.

Would he be capable of that type of jealousy if you didn't choose him? If he had to watch someone else live their own happily ever after with you while he suffered alone?

Huh.

When the movie ends, he distracts you with an impromptu game night in his room and he cuddles with you in his tub after.

His tail curls around your leg as you drift off to sleep, and he realizes he'd do so much worse just to keep you by his side.

SATAN | the wrath scene

For the most part, he's been less interested in the portrayal of sins. He's totally wrapped up in the mystery aspect of the movie instead.

Throughout the entire film, he's muttered under his breath about certain things he noticed or his guess about what might happen next.

(He’s read all the books mentioned in the library scene too.)

He figured that the cop with the short fuse was going to be involved somehow with wrath. He actually thought the character was a bit annoying.

He does sympathize with the cop's behaviour at the end—all he has to do is think of someone hurting you and it makes him seethe with rage.

The reveal about the wife caught him completely off-guard but thinking about it later, it seems so obvious.

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mynameismckenziemae · 2 months

Text

A Little Bit Stronger

Part 4

(previous part here, next part here)

Bradley Rooster Bradshaw x OFC

Summary: You get more bad news but it turns out to be a blessing in disguise

Just like everything else I write/post: this story is for 18+ only. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. It will contain smut, adult themes, situations and language. Please also note this story may be triggering due to the topic of domestic abuse (physical, emotional, sexual) violence-feel free to message me with any questions before reading.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Smut, mutual masturbation, a little voyeurism.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

The front door closing quietly wakes you the next morning, well, more like Hank jumping off the bed to see the person who opened it.

“Alright,” you yawn, stretching before you get up, feeling again well-rested. “Let’s go.”

He races down the stairs ahead of you, excited to see Bradley.

“Did I wake you?” He asks as you enter the kitchen, continuing when you shake your head. “Sorry, I get up early. Went for a run this morning.”

“You’re fine,” you smile, “Hank was just excited to see you. I usually get up early too, must’ve just been tired from yesterday. Is that why you’re called Rooster? You’re an early riser too?”

“Uh, yeah,” he says, turning pink as he rises from petting Hank to look in the fridge.

Now you’re totally convinced that there’s more to the story by his avoidance.

“I don’t have much besides eggs and toast,” he sighs, looking at the loaf of bread on the counter, “I’ve gotta get to the grocery store. I should warn you too, I can’t cook for shit.”

“That’s okay,” you reply as you open the door to let Hank outside, “I used to love cooking.”

“Yeah?” He doesn’t need to ask why you stopped loving it, assuming (correctly) it was because of Chad. “My mom was a great cook. I’d do anything to have one of her home-cooked meals again…that I complained about at the time, wanting McDonald’s or pizza instead.”

You laugh as you fill Hank’s food bowl, “I did the same thing, I think most kids do.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, grabbing the eggs and pulling out a pan. “The best was her meatloaf and homemade Mac and cheese. She left me a whole book of her recipes but it never ends well when I attempt them.”

“I could try making it,” you reply as you let Hank back inside, “if you want.”

“Really?” He lights up as he cracks an egg, “that’d be great.”

“Yeah,” you smile, “it’s been a while so I might be a little rusty, but I’d love to try. It’s the least I can do since you won’t let me pay you for staying here.”

“That’s not a big deal,” he murmurs. “Her recipe book is in there if you wanna take a look,” he nods to one of the drawers. “Do you like your eggs scrambled? Cause that’s all I can do.”

You laugh again, “Scrambled is perfect.”

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

“Wanna invite Reese, Jake, and Drew over?” Bradley asks as he packs the groceries into the back of the Bronco, “I know the recipe makes a lot, we always had a ton of leftovers.”

“Sure,” you reply, buckling your seatbelt as he gets in the driver's seat. “Do you mind stopping at the post office? I should check my PO Box.”

“Not at all,” he replies, heading that way.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

“Everything okay?” He asks when you frown, reading the letter from the court.

“The divorce hearing is scheduled for next Friday,” you reply.

“Isn’t that good?”

You nod, “It is, but I have to work. Thankfully it’s being conducted over the phone, but I don’t want to ask for time off when I’ve only been there a few weeks.”

“Reese will gladly take off,” Bradley assures you.

You sigh, “I hate asking her to, but I don’t think I have a choice. I don’t want to delay this any longer.”

“Do you have a lawyer?” He asks.

“Yes, but I’m not asking for anything from him; no alimony, nothing from the house…I don’t want or need any of that. I just need him to sign the papers and leave me alone.”

“Do you think he will?” He asks softly.

“I don’t know,” you whisper, “I hope so.”

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

Bradley plays outside with Hank while you start the food; both recipes are easy enough to follow.

“It smells amazing,” he comes in just as you’re closing the oven. “Jake and Reese will be here any minute.”

“Good. Hopefully it tastes amazing too,” you smile, looking at him over your shoulder.

“I’m sure it will,” he replies, stepping close to dry his hands on the towel hanging on the oven door. “It’s looking better already,” he murmurs, his deep brown eyes on the fading bruise on your cheek before meeting your own.

Your eyes flick to his lips, fingers twitching as you fight the urge to bring him down to yours for a kiss.

You both jump when the doorbell rings.

“They’re here,” he says, before clearing the huskiness from his throat. “I’ll let them in.”

“Yeah,” you nod, “okay.”

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

Bradley brings a round of beers outside while the food cooks inside, Drew’s giggling at Hank’s antics, and Reese is telling you and Jake about the trouble she and Bradley got up to with Andy back in the day when your phone rings.

The relaxed smile falls from your face when you recognize the number as your new landlord.

“Excuse me,” you say, stepping inside to answer it and check the food.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

The oven timer goes off just as you hang up the phone.

Somehow you manage not to get any of your tears on the food as you take out the dishes.

“Wow, everything looks great-hey what’s wrong?” Bradley asks when he sees your tears.

“That was my landlord,” you tell him, wiping your tears with the back of your hand, “he terminated my lease…that hadn’t even started.”

“What?” He asks, handing you a paper towel, “Why? How can he do that?”

“Said he overlooked something when I applied,” you sniff, “it’s just a bullshit excuse. This has Chad written all over it. God only knows how he figured out that’s where I was moving,” you inhale shakily, “I’m guessing he either bribed or threatened the landlord.”

He hesitates for a moment before gently wrapping his arms around you in a hug.

“Shit, that was stupid. I’m sor-“ He starts to let go when you stiffen instinctively but you shake your head once before allowing yourself to melt into his embrace. All of your anger, sadness, resentment, grief, and fear hitting you at once. Your shoulders begin shake from your suppressed sobs as you bury your face into his solid chest.

Neither of you hear the back door open again.

“Actually Drew, can you take Hank out one more time?”Jake says when he spots you, “I think he might have to go potty.”

“Sure! Come on,” he says, and the door closes a moment later.

“What’s wrong?” Reese asks, stroking your hair.

“I l-l-lost my apart-“ you take a deep breath before reluctantly pulling away, “I lost my apartment.”

Reese tears up and there’s a tick in Jake’s jaw as you explain everything.

“Oddly enough, I was thinking of taking next Friday off anyway,” Reese says when you tell her about the divorce hearing.

“Liar,” you laugh wetly, “but thank you.”

She just smiles.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

“This is exactly like she made it,” Bradley murmurs, mostly to himself. You pretend not to notice the tears in his eyes.

“Roo, is Shae your girlfriend?” Drew asks a few minutes later.

Reese snorts as Bradley chokes on the food in his mouth, “No, she’s just my friend. Why?”

“Because she slept over last night,” he shrugs.

“Well, are you my boyfriend? You sleep over sometimes too,” Bradley asks, raising a brow.

“No!” Drew giggles, “I was just wondering. I thought when adults sleep over it means they’re dating. Jake sleeps over all the time in Mom’s room. He leaves really early in the morning though. I don’t know why he doesn’t just move in.”

You bite your lip to keep from laughing at the shocked look Jake and Reese share.

“Busted!” Bradley bursts out laughing, “not as sneaky as you thought, huh?”

“Oh fuck off,” Reese says, her and Jake laughing now too, “Drew, don’t repeat that.”

“I won’t,” he giggles.

“Shae is just a friend and she’s going to stay here for a while,” Bradley explains before clarifying, “in the guest room.”

Your lip quirks at that.

“But why?” Drew asks.

“Drew-“ Reese starts but you interrupt.

“I just moved here and it’s hard to find an apartment that allows big dogs,” you explain, not lying…just leaving out some details.

“That’s dumb,” Drew scoffs, “he’s such a good dog.”

“I think so too,” you smile.

“Do you like baseball?” He asks, changing the subject, “I love baseball…”

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

You begin the apartment search again the next morning, requesting tours and submitting applications to anything that looks promising.

But by Thursday evening, you’ve gotten zero responses.

While discouraged, you weren’t exactly disappointed. It’s been a week since you’ve been staying with Bradley and you two already have fallen into a routine together; he quietly opens your door every morning to let Hank out so he doesn’t whine and wake you. Already gone by the time you got downstairs but had coffee, toast, and eggs waiting in the microwave. He’d gone home to let Hank out without you asking one day when you didn’t have time to take lunch. His delighted reactions to your cooking makes you remember why you loved it.

“Still nothing?” Bradley asks as he sits across from you while scrolling for a movie to turn on.

“Nothing,” you confirm with a sigh, “I promise I’ll be out of here soon though.”

“You don’t have to be,” he turns to you, but his eyes won’t meet yours, “I mean, there’s no rush.”

He hesitates so you wait for him to continue.

“It’s been really nice having someone else here,” he admits, “It gets…quiet living alone.”

His admission tugs at your heartstrings; you got lonely too.

“I understand. I do like having someone around. For little things like talking over dinner, watching movies together…and I can finally sleep. I don’t keep myself awake overthinking every little sound.”

“Good,” he murmurs, “you can stay for a while if you want. Until you find an apartment you like, or until things get better with your ex and you feel safe again.”

“Okay,” you agree, “but only if you let me pay you.”

“Sure,” he says as he returns to scrolling, “we’ll figure something out.”

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

Bradley’s Bronco is already in the driveway when you pull in the following afternoon.

It was a long, exhausting day, but it’s over. You’re free.

It was conducted over the phone, so while you didn’t have to see Chad, you still had to hear his voice. He behaved though; his daddy must’ve been present.

“Bradley?” You call when you open the door, feeling better already as you step inside.

He doesn’t answer but Hank is relaxing at the top of the stairs. His tail thumps heavily as you make your way up.

“Hey pup,” you murmur, kissing the top of his head before passing him.

You realize where Bradley is when you enter your room and hear the shower running.

Having every intention of taking a nap, you flop down on the bed with a sigh and close your eyes.

Just to open them a minute later when you keep hearing something; a wet, rhythmic slapping.

Is he…? No. It’s none of your business if he’s jerking off.

Then he moans softly.

You ignore your body’s reaction.

It’s wrong…right?

There’s a thump above your head and you can’t help but picture him bracing his arm against the wall as he strokes himself.

“Oh,” he groans, then, “Shae.”

There’s no ignoring the arousal that rushes through your body before settling between your thighs.

You slide your hand down the front of your pants, gasping when you touch your clit, swollen and pulsing.

Your eyes fall shut as you circle your clit, listening to the sounds he makes and picture him while he’s apparently picturing you.

It’s been so long since you’ve had an orgasm that you’re on the brink in no time at all.

His gasped “fuck” above your ear is all it takes.

Your mouth falls open as you shudder through wave after wave of pent-up pleasure. Tears stream from your eyes at the long-overdue emotional release.

The shower turns off as you come back into your body and by the time you muster enough strength and coordination to get up to close the door, he’s already walking past.

“Shit!” He jumps when he glances into your room, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t think you’d be home until later.”

But you hardly hear him; your eyes follow a droplet of water as it runs down his bare chest, wanting to follow it with your tongue. It’s absorbed the towel wrapped loosely on his hips.

A light tug would make it fall.

“Hey,” he notices your disheveled appearance and drying tears, “you okay? How did it go?”

That snaps you out of it.

“It’s-yeah,” you shake your head to clear it, “I just got here a minute ago. I’m…it was a long day.”

“I bet,” he nods, “I’ll listen if you want to talk about it or there’s beer in the fridge if you want to drink about it?”

“Drink about it,” you smile.

“Alright,” the way he grins makes your heart (and other parts) flutter.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

A/N: posting 2 chapters in 2 days-who even am I? I think I wrote over 5,000 words today 👀

Anyway…Shae is a single woman and things are s l o w l y heating up! What did y’all think?

As always, any interaction is appreciated but I LOVE hearing what you think in the comments/reblogs! Seriously, feedback helps me more than anything.

Please let me know if you want to be added to (or removed from) my taglist…and if I forgot to add you-it wasn’t intentional.

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#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #top gun maverick #top gun maverick smut

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crazyunsexycool · 6 months

Text

Heart’s Munition

Chapter 7

Pairing: Mob boss!Steve Rogers x Maid!reader

Word count: 6.3k

Warning: mention of blood/blood splatter, gun use, gunshot, knife use, non-con touching (not Steve), SA, attempted rape, bruises, beating, angst, protective Steve

A/N: I really liked writing this chapter. Here we have a situation in which reader knows that Steve is in the mob but has never been in direct contact with any type of violence or anything until she is… We also find out who the woman that broke Steve's heart is (Are we surprised who it is?) We'll find out why later on so here we go....

Series Masterlist

“One more piece of tape.” You said as you held your hand out.

“Here you go.”

You place the tape on the last corner and then smooth it out to make sure it stays in place.

“Mom are you done?” Eli pops his head into the room you’re in. “They’re downstairs.”

“Yes, come on.”

You and Eli were two balls of energy. Everything was in place and Regina was more than supportive in your excitement. For the last two days you had been working on getting a room ready for Peter. He was finally being released from the hospital and considering how things were going Steve thought it would be better if Peter stayed for a while.

There’s voices coming from the hallway so you and Eli stand together and wait for the door to open. Steve smiles as he opens the door and steps inside. Peter is right behind him.

“Welcome home.” You and Eli yell at the same time. Peter, still being medicated, is startled before he starts laughing.

“Thanks guys. Did you help decorate?” He asks Eli who walked up to Peter and hugged him gently.

“Yeah. Do you wanna watch a movie?”

“That sounds like a great idea bud.”

“Eli, let Peter get settled first. Why don’t you go help Dom make some snacks for the two of you?”

“Ok ma. I’ll be right back.” Eli says before he’s running out the door.

“It’s good to see you’re back.” You said as you gave Peter a hug of your own.

“Glad to be back too.”

You smile as you help him get comfortable in bed. Regina helps by getting his bags from Sam and sorting out the items.

“Who’s she?” Peter nods in her direction.

“This is Regina, the newest member of our staff.”

Peter gives her an awkward smile and his eyes dart to Steve. He thought he’d find the boss checking her out but his eyes were only on you. Peter knew from the first moment Steve liked you but he was stubborn. He wouldn’t let emotions cloud his judgment. Steve had warned him to keep a level head and to keep feelings out of the business. But seeing him now it would seem as if his boss was going against his own advice.

“Nice to meet you. Let me know if you need anything.” Regina offers. “I’m going to get back to work.”

“Thanks.” Steve says as he moves so that she can reach the door.

You stay for a few more minutes catching up with Peter before you excuse yourself too. Bucky and Sam walk out with you.

“We’ll let you get settled but we do have to talk about what happened at some point.” Steve says.

“Of course boss.” Peter nods. “I’m glad you brought them here. Y/N and Eli I mean. It was just the two of them and with Eli as sick as he is Y/N needs all the support she can get.”

“And she has it now. Why didn’t you tell me about her and her son?”

Peter looks down at his hands.

“You’re not in trouble.”

“She asked me not to. Simple as that. Eli is her priority and I respected that.”

“You’re loyal, I like that about you kid.” Steve says. “You’re not keeping any other secrets from me are you?”

“No sir. Eli is the only thing I’ve ever kept a secret.”

“Good. Now get some rest.”

Steve flexed his hand, assessing the damage on his knuckles from the interrogation he’d been a part of. He hissed when the cold alcohol swab touched the open skin on his other hand.

“Don’t be a baby.” You murmur as you throw away the used alcohol pad.

You turn away from Steve to grab some ointment and when you turn back he’s lighting a cigarette.

“Hey.” Steve protests when you snatch the unlit cigarette from his mouth. “What the hell, I need a smoke. I'm stressed.”

“No smoking in the house.”

“It’s my house.” Steve argues back.

“Elijah can’t inhale smoke so either quit or go outside to the other end of the yard where he doesn’t play.”

“So now I can’t do whatever I want in my own house?” Steve glares at you but you aren’t intimidated by it.

You roll your eyes before taking his hand again and finish cleaning it up before moving around to the next one.

“I didn’t ask you to move in. You brought me here and told me this place was safe for me and my kid. Now if you go and trigger an asthma attack it won't be good for him.”

Steve huffs but agrees. He sits silently for a moment as he watches you.

“You know maybe I should get you a sexy nurse uniform.”

“And who would I wear it for?”

“Your only patient.” Steve says, matter of fact. “Do you think I’d let anyone else see you dressed in something like that?”

“I don’t know, I thought it was my choice who I let see me with or without clothes on.” You turn your head to look at him over your shoulder, a smirk playing on your lips when Steve’s jaw clenched. “What? Does it bother you that I could go out there and find someone and let him take me home?”

Steve stands abruptly and spins you so that you’re chest to chest with him. His hands lay flat against the flat surface of the desk behind you, his eyes darkening at just the thought of someone else putting their hands on you. Your breath hitches at the intensity in his gaze.

“Do you really think I would let that happen? Let some asshole touch you.”

“It’s not up to you, Steve. I’m a grown woman, I can do whatever I want. Why do you care anyway? Are you still just trying to get me in your bed? Is this why you’ve been so helpful, you think that helping me with Eli will get me to sleep with you? I won’t risk it. My job is much more important than a one night stand with you. Besides I thought we were past this you sleeping with your maids thing.”

Steve groans in frustration, his head falling to your shoulder. You smile and play with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“No. I’m helping you with Eli because I genuinely care.” He pulls back to look at you, his gaze much softer now. “Maybe I wasn’t clear enough before but I will be now. I want you. Not just for one night.”

“Well two nights isn’t going to cut it either.”

“You’re being a brat, you know that? I'm going to win you over.”

You laugh and get closer to his face, his eyes immediately going to your lips.

“Well I’m not going to make it easy for you.” You murmur and kiss the tip of his nose just as the door opens.

Bucky walks in, his steps falter as he watches the two of you separate yourself from one another.

“Hey Buck, right on time I was just finishing up here.” You say as if he didn’t walk in on the two of you in a compromising position.

“Uh-ok cool.”

You pick up the first aid kit and place it back in its spot within Steve’s office. As you head for the door you stop and turn to look at both men.

“How much longer is that mess going to be downstairs?” You asked about the nameless idiot that shot Peter.

“It will be cleaned up soon.”

“Ok, just let me know if you need me to take Eli out for the day. I don’t want him to see any of that.”

“Of course.” Steve smiled and you walked out.

“What was that about?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Steve waves his hand dismissively.

“Ok? Anyways, Beck still won’t talk. We’ve tried everything.”

Steve sighed as he ran a hand over his beard. “We’re going to have to call either Lloyd or Loki in. But we’ll move Beck first. I don’t want that done here.”

“I’ll figure out where to move him to.”

“Thanks, I’ll make the call.” Steve leans forward and grabs the phone while Bucky heads back out.

You heard Steve’s voice before you walked into Elijah’s room. Almost as soon as you had moved in, Eli requested that Steve read with him at night before bed. You told your son you weren’t sure that was possible but in the short time you’ve been there Steve hasn’t missed a night. Although reading didn’t take long, all of the medication Eli was on made him sleepy. It didn’t stop him from fighting it and trying to stay awake for just a few more minutes. You lean against the doorframe and watch Steve tuck Eli in and turn off the lamp next to his bed.

“Hey.” Steve says as he walks out of the bedroom.

“He didn’t put up much of a fight did he?”

“No.” Steve shakes his head. “I think all of the excitement of having Peter here wore him out.”

You smile while looking back into the darkened bedroom. “I’m not surprised. He loved when Pete would come over and play video games.”

Steve’s eyes were still on you when you looked back up at him. There was an intense feeling of need between the two of you as you stood in the quiet dimly lit hallway. One that pulled you closer to each other. He cleared his throat and you looked away.

“I have some business to attend to at one of my clubs. Will you be alright here alone?”

“Yeah. Peter is sleeping too and I think Dom had a poker game. I’m just gonna enjoy a nice bubble bath before bed.”

Steve groans and closes his eyes. You bite back a laugh.

“Do you need a hand with this bubble bath?”

You smile and shake your head before starting to walk backwards toward your own room. “I’m good, thanks. I can take care of myself just fine.”

“Tease.” Steve mutters as he watches you walk into your room.

****

Steve shook hands with his newest associate, Erik Killmonger. They had worked together before but this was going to be on a more permanent and lucrative basis. The two men were in the vip section with a drink in hand celebrating their new business deal.

They looked down at the sea of people dancing and drinking as they talked about logistics and expectations.

“Good evening gentlemen.” A sickly sweet voice called out from behind them.

It was a voice Steve recognized and immediately tensed because of it. He turned slowly, anger already rising within him. A glare was sent in the direction of the uninvited guest but she was unphased.

“What are you doing here, Sharon?” Steve demanded to know.

“I just came by to say hello, see how my old friend was doing.”

“You shouldn’t be here. Not my club and not in New York.”

She rolled her eyes and sat at one of the plush couches, motioning for a waitress to get her a drink. “I heard you were doing business and I have a proposition for you.”

Erik looked between the two and excused himself after mentioning something about someone catching his eye. It left Steve alone with Sharon although Bucky quickly and quietly joined them.

“So what do you say, Rogers? Want to make a deal?” Sharon asked as she batted her lashes at Steve.

“No. You shouldn’t even be in New York but I’ll be a gentleman and give you twelve hours to leave.” Steve nods at Bucky who moves and grabs Sharon by the arm.

“You can’t be serious? Is this because of Peggy?”

Steve tensed at the mention of her name. It brought back bitter and hurtful memories. He kept his expression unreadable though and looked back at the blonde.

“I’m a man of my word. I said I’d never work with The Carter Family again and I intend to keep it. I also told you that you have twelve hours to leave.”

Sharon pulls her arm away from Bucky’s hold. “It’s a shame you’re letting your emotions get in the way of a very lucrative deal.”

“Sharon-” Steve raised his hand to stop her from talking when she opened her mouth.

“Steve.”

“What Buck?” He looked over a Bucky, annoyed that he was being interrupted.

“We have to go. Check your phone.”

Steve pulls out his phone to find a few missed calls and texts from your phone.

Y/N: Steve mom needs help.

Y/N: Come home now!

Y/N: Please!!

Y/N: Answer your phone.

Steve immediately called you back but you didn’t answer. The urgency came from the first message that was obviously from Eli. He wasn’t sure how he missed yours and Peter’s calls but he left Sharon forgotten in his VIP section and headed back home with Sam and Bucky.

Eli and Peter were sleeping. Dom had gone to a weekly poker game with his friends. The house was quiet and you have wanted to take advantage of the bathtub in your room for a while. So that’s what you did. You lit some candles and added epsom salts and oils into the water. It was perfect. With some music playing softly in the background the only thing missing was a glass of wine. You grabbed your robe and headed downstairs with the intention of pouring yourself some.

It was while passing Elijah’s room that something felt off. While you left the door ajar it was opened a little too wide. Then there was a smell of cigarette smoke that bothered you. Especially after asking Steve not to smoke around him. You knew that request bothered him but he wouldn’t go do anything to harm Eli either. So you crept up to the door and peered inside just to make sure Eli was still asleep. You could see him on the bed sleeping soundly but the cigarette smoke clung in the air heavily. Since the room was dark other than the sliver of light that illuminated the bed you struggled to make anything else out.

You hear it before you see it. The deep inhale in the corner of the room. Then the lit cigarette. The person smoking takes a step out of his hiding place and you can barely make out his short slicked back hair and large frame. Your breathing stops as you stare at this stranger in your son’s room.

“Well what do we have here?” It’s almost a whisper but it sends an unpleasant shiver down your spine.

“Get out of this room right now.”

The stranger walked closer to you. He was tall and obviously strong. You were sure he would overpower you but he was a threat to your son. You’d do anything to protect him. With every step he took you took one back in the hopes of leading him out into the hallway.

“Aren’t you a pretty little thing? Rogers must be treating you well if you walk around like that.” He motioned toward your robe which had loosened and revealed your bra. He licked his lips as he eyed you. “The kid might be a bit of a mood killer though.”

You wrapped the robe around yourself tightly and headed towards the stairs. He stalked towards you with a predatory gaze in his eyes. Before you could get to the top of the stairs he grabs the back of your neck, pressing his body against your. One hand wraps around your throat and the other starts roaming your body.

“That’s no way to treat a guest, Honey.” He whispered in your ear before sniffing your hair.

“Let me go.”

“Show me a good time and maybe I will. Or maybe I’ll keep you.”

He started dragging back into the hallway and opened the first door he found.

“No. Please don’t.” You tried to push against him in hopes of avoiding being thrown into the bed. But he was taller and obviously stronger than you.

“You should cooperate sweetheart. Maybe I’ll go easy on ya.”

You're thrown onto the bed. The robe you were wearing is now open, exposing your bra and revealing the shorts you were wearing. You cry and beg as your attacker moves to crawl over you, his lips find their way to your neck as he holds your hands above your head with one hand. His grip is hard and painful. The other he uses to keep your face still as he kisses you. He pulls back and smirks down at you.

“Look at you, you’re so pretty when you cry.” He laughs as he moves around in order to undress you. In a moment of desperation you kick your feet up and manage to kick him in his groin. “You fucking cunt.” In his moment of weakness you kick higher this time and your foot connects with his face. He grabs his nose and starts cursing at you but you’re moving away from him.

You ran faster this time in hopes of getting down the stairs. As long as he was away from Eli you didn’t care what happened to you.

“Dumb whore. I was going to be good to you but now you’re fucked. When I’m done with you, you’ll never see the kid again.” He yelled as he followed you down the stairs. “Stop running or I’ll go back up there and shoot the kid.”

Turning to look over your shoulder slowly you saw the gun aimed at you.

“I really only came here for one thing. You see your little fuck buddy, Rogers, he has an associate of mine.” He says while taking a few steps down towards you.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Elijah creep out of his room. He stood there unmoving as he watched a stranger pull a gun out on his mom. You prayed he would go hide again and were relieved when he moved away from the railing.

On the landing that led to the second floor you stood looking up at the intruder. He takes slow deliberate steps just to show you that he was in control. Your tear stained cheeks do nothing to deter his attack.

“If you tell me where he is,” he pulls his phone out and shows you a picture. “I won’t have the kid watch what I do to you. I won’t sell him off to the highest bidder either.”

A door opens up at the end of the hall. He stops on the last step so that he’s hidden from whoever is there.

“Y/N?” Peter’s sleepy voice breaks the tense silence. “Y/N, I need some help.”

The stranger takes a peek around the corner and sees Peter making his way down slowly. You take his distraction and charge at him full force hoping to at least knock him down and get the gun away from him. Barreling into him, shoulder first, he falls back. It wasn’t so much your strength but catching him off guard that helped you. He groaned as he grabbed his head, a small amount of blood started to trickle from the apparent gash at the back. While it looked like it hurt it didn’t completely knock your aggressor out.

“Peter, get back in your room. Call Steve or anyone tell them to get back now.” You yelled before running down the stairs with the gun in your hand.

Not even hitting his head against a few steps slows down your attacker. It forces you to head into the kitchen instead of outside. You turn on your heel and hold the gun up, pointing it at him.

“Don’t move or I’ll shoot you.” You say.

“Really? I don’t think you’ve ever used a gun before.”

“First time for everything.” You reply. “On your knees.” The gun is still pointed at him but it shakes almost violently in your hands.

He smirks and takes another step closer. The gun goes off but it hits the floor. It makes your hands shake even more.

“Don’t. Move.” You say through gritted teeth.

There’s movement behind him and then Peter is telling you to move. The intruder turns around to face Peter knowing you won’t be able to shoot. He still gets shot once in the shoulder and in each kneecap forcing him to the ground. When you stand from behind the kitchen island you see Peter standing with a gun in his hand, suppressor attached.

“Are you ok?” He asks while keeping his gun aimed down at the intruder.

“I think so.” You say with a shaky voice while looking him over. “You’re bleeding.”

“I think I ripped my stitches.”

“I’ll get you cleaned up. Let me just-“ you look around unsure of what you can use to restrain him. “I’ll be right back.” You run down the steps to the basement on wobbly legs.

“We can use this.”

You say as you get to the top stair with some rope. Peter nods but grimaces at any slight movement.

“What do I do?” You look up at Peter.

“Y/N, Peter?”

“In the kitchen.” You yell out.

Coulson’s quick steps echo throughout the otherwise quiet home. He stares at the scene in front of him bewildered for just a moment.

“Give me the rope.” He says and moves into action.

You help Peter get to the couch. “I’m gonna get the first aid kit ok? I’ll be right back.”

“Hey,” he catches your hand. “Go check on Eli first, this can wait a few minutes.”

He saw the relief in your eyes and the way your tense shoulders slumped.

You run up the stairs and head directly to his room where you find the door locked.

“Elijah, baby it’s me.” You knock. “Baby please open the door. It’s ok.”

The door opens and Eli’s crying face comes into view.

“Mom.” He rushes to you, burying his face in your stomach and wrapping his arms around your waist.

“It’s ok, it’s safe now. Are you ok?”

You feel him nodding against you. The only thing you can do is hug him back and assure him that he’s ok. After a few minutes you pull away, kneeling to get a better look at him and make sure there are no marks on him.

“Why was that man here? Why did he want to hurt you?”

“I don’t know, baby.” You brush away his tears. “Let’s go sit.”

Eli takes your hand and walks back into his room. You aren’t sure if it’s him shaking or you but it’s almost uncontrollable.

“I tried to call and text Steve but he didn’t answer.” He holds out your phone.

“You did a good job, come here.”

You take your phone and call Steve immediately but there’s no answer. Then you call Sam and Bucky and still nothing. You send them all a few texts and you start to worry that they have been hurt. Dom answers right away and he tells you that he’ll be back in a few minutes. After that you sit against the headboard and bring Elijah to sit on your lap and you hold him tight like when he was a baby. The only thing you could do now was wait.

Steve flew through traffic in order to make it back as fast as he could. His mind raced as he tried and failed to get an answer from you. He came up with the worst case scenarios of what could be happening. All Steve hoped was that you and Eli were ok no matter what the issue was. He would never forgive himself if anything happened to either of you.

Sam and Bucky weren’t far behind when Steve finally pulled into the driveway of his mansion. Immediately he knew something was way off. The normal guards that were posted around the perimeter were missing. He grabbed his gun as he stepped out of his car. When he looked backed, Sam and Bucky also had their guns out.

Steve rushed to the door, opening it without warning. His gun was up as he walked in with Sam and Bucky behind him. They walk into the living room only to find Peter sitting back on the couch, his hand putting pressure on the area where he had been stitched up previously. Dom was fussing over him trying to help stop the bleeding.

“Peter? What happened?” Steve asked, getting the attention of the semiconscious young man.

“There’s this guy. He broke in.”

“I have him down in the room.” Coulson stepped out of the kitchen. “I got an alert from the security alarm. I got here just as Peter shot him. It seems he had his eyes set on Y/N.”

“Where is she?”

“Upstairs.” Peter answers. “With Eli.”

Steve looks back and Bucky lifts his chin up towards the stairs.

“We’ll go see who this idiot is.”

“Get Peter medical help and find out what happened to the guards.”

“Clint and Nat are on their way.” Coulson says. “I’ll have them take Peter in.”

Steve nods and heads upstairs. He takes two at a time until he reaches the third floor. His heart is beating out of his chest as he walks up to Eli’s room, worried about the state he would find you in. He knocks but doesn’t get an answer so he opens the door and takes a peek inside. The cigarette smoke still lingers but he doesn’t find either you or Eli. Steve walks out and heads to your room, knocking a bit more harshly than he intended too.

“Y/N? Can you open up?” Steve calls out. After a minute the door opens and your tear stained face peeks out.

“Steve.” You whimper when you finally see him.

“C’mere, baby.” Steve pulls you into his chest. He feels your whole body trembling and his arms tighten around you. “Are you ok? Is Elijah?”

You nod against his chest and begin to sob now that Steve was there.

“It’s over. You’re safe.” Steve murmured.

He kept as calm as he could but he felt nothing but rage. Not only did someone think they could just walk into his home without any repercussions, they also terrorized you. There would be hell to pay once he was downstairs to get the necessary information.

“Do either of you need to see a doctor?”

“No. We’re ok, just shaken up a bit.” You reply as you finally look up at him again.

“Alright. What about you? Are you sure you’re not hurt? Did he do anything to you?”

You avert your eyes and Steve’s stomach drops.

“What did he do? Did he touch you?” Steve’s voice hardened. There was this underlying and unsettling sharpness to it.

You nodded. Steve took a deep breath while he slowly pulled away and turned his back towards you. He ran a hand over his beard as he thought about all the ways he was going to rip the asshole that dared touch you apart.

Steve turned back to look at you. “Did he force hi-“

“Tried to. I got away from him before he could.”

“Ok.” Steve takes a deep breath. “C’mon let’s get you back to bed. You need to rest.”

Once Steve realizes that you’re asleep he leaves the room quietly. He walks down to the first floor to find out what the hell is going on in his own home. There will be hell to pay for this, not just for the disrespect of breaking into his house but for what you went through.

“Update, now.” He demands.

“The idiot that broke in is none other than Jack Rollins. Apparently he was looking for Beck when he stumbled upon Eli’s room.” Bucky says. “He’s a sick twisted bastard from what Peter told me he heard.”

“Did he say anything else?”

Bucky shakes his head. Steve starts rolling up his sleeves. He heads for the basement door with Bucky on his heels.

“What are you going to do?”

“What do you think?” He growls but continues toward the basement door.

“Steve, think about this.” Bucky says. “We could get information out of him if we do this right.”

Steve stops and turns to look at Bucky and the rest of his team.

“He put his hands on Y/N. I don’t give a fuck about information.”

Bucky’s eyes harden at the new information.

“I’ll come with you.”

The two men walk down to the basement and into the soundproof room. Sam was standing over Rollins, who already had a few cuts and scrapes along with the gunshot wounds. Steve doesn’t waste any time at all as he connects his fist with Rollin’s jaw. The man, who had been tied to a chair, falls backwards.

“I’m guessing that pretty little thing you have upstairs told you about our time together.” Rollins chuckles. “She was real sweet.0

Steve lands a few more hits before he stretches his hand out behind him. Bucky already knows what Steve wants and hands him a knife. Steve inspects it carefully before looking down at the man below him.

“Oohh should I be-Aahh.” Rollins screams when Steve plunges the knife into the bullet wound on his shoulder. Blood splatters into Steve’s face but it doesn’t deter him.

****

When Steve finally stopped his assault he was covered in blood. Steve’s anger hadn’t subsided even as he walked back into the kitchen. The others were gathered around the island talking about what happened when he joined them.

“Has anyone checked in on Y/N?” He asked.

“Still sleeping boss.”

He nods and starts walking out. “I’ll be back in about 10 minutes. I want to know everything when I come back.”

Steve goes up to his room to shower and change quickly. Then he heads back down to the kitchen. Dom has a cup of coffee ready for him. The sun was just starting to light up the sky. Steve grabs his cup and takes a sip.

“What do we have?” He asks as he takes a seat at the kitchen table.

“Rollins killed some of the guards around the perimeter, enough to slip by undetected. He hacked the security system. He couldn’t completely deactivate it but he delayed the notification Coulson would get.” Clint said.

“He was looking for Beck. But he won’t say anything else.”

“What should we do now?” Bucky asks.

“First I want him out of the house. Get him some medical attention, I’m not done with him just yet.” Steve orders. “Let’s double up the guards. Let’s have Jensen double check the security system and upgrade whatever needs to be upgraded.”

“How is Peter doing?”

Steve and the rest of the group turn to see you standing at the entrance to the kitchen. Even though you slept most of the night you look exhausted. Eyes are red and slightly swollen as if you’d just been crying.

“Peter’s fine. He just ripped some stitches, he’s in his room sleeping.” Nat tells you.

You nod as Dom walks over to you.

“Want some coffee, Mia Cara?”

You shake your head. Dom opens his arms for you and you step into his embrace. The older man pats your back in a comforting manner.

“You’re safe now, Mia Cara. We won’t let anything like this happen again. You hear me?” He reassures you.

You just nod against his chest. Everyone silently shuffles out of the kitchen. Dom places a chaste kiss on your forehead and leaves, giving you and Steve some privacy.

“How are you feeling?” Steve asks as he gets up and moves towards you.

You shrug. Other than being worried about Eli you were numb to the whole situation.

“Baby, look at me.” Steve says softly. He tucks a finger under your chin and pulls up so that you have to look at him.

You’re fighting back tears for what felt like the millionth time.

“Tell me what you need?”

“I don’t know.”

“How about some time away from here? We can get away for a weekend and take Eli somewhere fun. What do you say?” Steve offers.

It angered him all over again to see you like this. A shell of who you really are. Your arms wrapped around yourself. Steve didn’t like seeing you down like this although it was completely understandable.

You shrug again in response and he sighs.

“Why don’t you go rest for a little bit longer and I’ll have Dom make you something and bring it up.”

“I can’t.” You mumble as you look around the room.

“Why?”

“I have to work.”

“You’re joking right? You aren’t going to be working today. Regina will be in any minute now, she’ll do what she can. You worry about taking care of yourself and Eli.” Steve says as he leads you out of the kitchen and into the living room.

In the distance you hear the door that is normally used by the house staff to come in and out.

“See, that's probably Regina right now. I’ll talk to her.”

You gasp when Regina appears in the doorway. She’s sporting a black eye, busted lip, bruises around her throat and she’s holding her side as if it hurt. You rush over to her to make sure she’s ok.

“What happened?”

“The-these men they-they broke into my house early this morning.” She sobbed before hiding her face in your shoulder.

“Fuck. Bucky, Sam.” Steve yells for them. The two men rush out of the hallway that leads to Steve’s office.

“What happened?” Bucky asks once he sees Regina crying.

You tell them what she had just said since she couldn’t control her crying. Both men look back at Steve, the same anger in their eyes. Dom and Coulson soon join the others.

“Do you know who did this?” You ask her as you guide her to the couch.

“No. I’ve never seen them before. I was sleeping when they broke in.” Regina sniffles.

“Did they say what they wanted?”

Regina nods. “They told me that I had to get whatever information that I could on you and report back to them.”

“I have a few questions.”

“Ask away.”

“How did they know you work for me?” Steve asks and you look between him and Regina.

“I don’t know, maybe they had been following me?”

“Why tell me?”

Regina swallows thickly as tears well up in her eyes again. “Well everyone here has been so nice to me, and this is the first job I don’t have to get almost naked to get money for,” She sighs, wincing due to her injured ribs. “I didn’t want to ruin what I had here. But my grandma, she’s in a nursing home and they had pictures of her. They said that they’d hurt me and make her watch.”

“They said the same about me and Eli.”

“Wait what?” Regina looks at you confused.

“Someone broke in last night.”

“What is happening?” Regina asked. She was scared and so were you. The only difference was that you knew Steve would make things right.

“I don’t know but I’m going to find out. In the meantime you can’t go back to your place.” Steve tells her. “We’ll have someone pick up some clothes for you and have a doctor look you over. Do you think you could recognize these men if you saw them again?”

“Maybe. Oh wait,” Regina grabs her phone. “Would a video help?”

“You have a video of them?”

She looks at Bucky and nods. “I installed a doorbell camera and a camera in the living room. Here, you can definitely see their faces.”

“You have a camera in your living room?” Sam asks suspiciously.

“I live alone and I’m single. There have been some break ins around the neighborhood. I was trying to protect myself.” She says as she hands the phone over to Bucky.

Sam and Steve huddle around Bucky to look at the video Regina had. They see her being dragged out of her room and beaten. Unfortunately they didn’t recognize the men in the video but they would find them nonetheless.

“Thank you for this. I don’t know who they are but we’re going to find them.” Steve tells her. “Y/N can I talk to you for a minute?”

You get up and follow Steve into his office where he closes the door behind you.

“What’s wrong?” You ask Steve after watching him pace back and forth for a few minutes. “Is it about whoever broke into Regina’s place?”

Steve leans against his desk and crosses his arms over his chest.

“I’ll most likely have to be out more. At least while I track these sons of bitches down.”

“Ok, and?”

“Will you be ok here? After last night… I’m doing everything to make sure this place is more secure.”

“Ok.”

“I’m also going to assign Nat to be with you whenever you go out. I know you’re independent but I need you to do as she says if something were to happen.”

“Do you think someone would try to hurt me again?”

“Honestly? I don’t know. I mean look at what they did to Regina and she hasn’t even been here that long. I’m not going to risk you and Eli being in danger again.” Steve pushes himself off the desk and walks over to you. “It should’ve never happened in the first place. I’m going to handle this.”

“I’m more worried about Elijah than myself.”

“Of course you are because you’re a good mom.” Steve cups your face when he sees your eyes start getting glassy. “You just take care of him like you always do and I’ll keep you both safe.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

Ch. 8

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