#like last time for anyone who wants to follow him^_^

[ilovolderman]

Caught on Camera

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Sam drags you and Bucky to stakeout duty and tries to expose your secret relationship.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: humor, fluff, secret dating, mild language

A/N: this can be read as a standalone even though it's part of a series called "You Said What". it doesn't necessarily follow a specific order, but if you want to check out the other parts, here they are: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13. thanks for reading, i hope you like it :)

You knew this stakeout was doomed from the moment Sam brought a whiteboard.

Not a mini dry-erase board. Not a tablet with a stylus. An actual, full-sized, collapsible, wheeled whiteboard.

Bucky stared at it. “Why does that have string on it?”

Sam clicked a marker with the flair of someone about to unravel a conspiracy or get tackled mid-presentation. “Because it’s time,” he said ominously, “to connect the dots.”

You closed your eyes. “Oh no.”

“Don’t ‘oh no’ me. You two have been weird. And I—your trusted friend and field partner—will get to the bottom of it.”

“You think we’re Hydra sleeper agents?” you asked, mostly just to gauge the level of chaos today.

Sam didn’t hesitate. “Worse. You’re dating.”

Bucky blinked. “That’s your worst-case scenario?”

“You’re Bucky,” Sam said. “She’s… tolerable. It’s unnatural.”

You and Bucky exchanged a glance. He did that little eye-squint he thought was subtle. It wasn’t.

You cleared your throat. “We’re in a surveillance van. On a mission. Maybe focus on that?”

Sam threw an arm toward the monitor bank. “Nothing’s moved in two hours except a suspicious delivery guy who turned out to be carrying vegan muffins. Vegan muffins, Barnes.”

“That’s not illegal,” Bucky muttered.

“It should be,” Sam said grimly.

Natasha’s voice crackled over comms. “I’m stationed outside the north stairwell. The target is inactive. You’ve got time to argue about snacks and feelings or whatever this is.”

Sam pointed a marker at the speaker like she’d just validated his entire existence. “Thank you, Natasha.”

You sighed. “Can we please do anything else? Read a book? Pretend we’re asleep? Watch literally anything besides—what even is this?” You pointed to the whiteboard.

Sam turned it so you could see. In neat but slightly chaotic handwriting were phrases like:

“Elevator Incident?”

“Two coffee mugs — ONE MORNING?”

“Barnes: suddenly moisturized??”

“Y/N’s tactical vest adjusted @ 0800 by WHO?”

Bucky pointed at that last one. “That was self-care, not seduction.”

“Tell that to the helmet cam footage,” Sam muttered.

You groaned and slumped back into your seat. “Why do you even care so much?”

“Because,” Sam said, turning slowly, dramatically, “if I am the last to know… I’m bringing slide transitions to the roast.”

You opened your mouth to protest—but Bucky leaned forward, elbows on knees, and said, “Fine. You want proof? Real proof?”

Your heart jumped. Bucky, what are you doing.

Sam straightened like a bloodhound that’d just caught a scent. “Go on.”

“Okay,” Bucky said calmly, “when I got out of cryo in Wakanda, I was emotionally closed-off, unstable, and could barely sleep.”

“Yeah. We know. That’s not new.”

“Well,” Bucky continued, “guess who taught me mindfulness, made me journal, and introduced me to oat milk?”

Your eyebrows lifted. This was true… but it was also your cover story for sneaking into his room every night. As in, yes, I taught him mindfulness, and also how to sneak a second pillow into your bed without anyone noticing.

Sam blinked. “...You’re saying she therapized you?”

Bucky nodded.

Sam opened his mouth, then paused. “You do seem weirdly well-adjusted.”

“Exactly,” Bucky said.

You chimed in. “I’m basically a wellness program in combat boots.”

Sam rubbed his temples. “I’m too tired for this. You’re either dating or you’ve joined a cult. Either way, I hate it.”

Just then, the van monitor beeped. Movement.

Natasha’s voice buzzed back in. “Eyes up. We’ve got two incoming—unmarked car pulling into the garage. Heads down, stay sharp.”

You all ducked slightly. Silence fell.

And then—buzz. A second beep. Sam’s phone.

He glanced at it, then frowned. “Weird. I just got a Venmo request from Natasha. ‘$12 — for emotional labor.’”

You smothered a laugh. Bucky cleared his throat and looked very interested in a gum wrapper on the floor.

Sam narrowed his eyes. “Okay. That’s it.”

He stood and whipped around the whiteboard. “Forget the dots. Time for the web.” He pulled back the curtain on the second side of the board.

It was a complete red-string conspiracy map. Photocopies of you and Bucky in seemingly mundane situations: walking down a hallway, sparring, looking slightly too happy in a debriefing. In one, you were handing him a protein bar.

Underneath it read: "The Protein Pact?"

You just said, “That’s a very organized delusion.”

“Thank you,” Sam said proudly.

Natasha’s voice crackled again. “FYI, the suspects are exiting the vehicle. And also, you guys are being recorded right now. There’s a camera in the corner of the van.”

Everyone whipped around.

There was a camera in the corner.

Sam screamed.

“WHO PUT THAT THERE?”

“Security,” Natasha said casually. “Fury installed them after the incident with the karaoke machine and the flamethrower.”

“That was ONE time,” Sam shouted.

Bucky turned to you and murmured, “I bet she’s saving the footage for leverage.”

“She’s definitely building a blackmail folder,” you replied.

Sam pointed wildly between you both. “WHISPERING. SECRET WHISPERING.”

You reached for your comm. “Nat. Can you confirm that whispering is suspicious?”

Natasha replied smoothly, “Only if it’s romantic. Otherwise, it’s standard spycraft.”

Sam looked like he was about to cry.

Bucky stood, walked over, and patted Sam on the shoulder. “Listen, man. If we were dating—which we’re not—it wouldn’t be your business.”

Sam looked up at him, eyes wide. “But I’d be right.”

“Maybe. Or maybe you’re just tired. And alone. In a van. With string.”

Sam collapsed onto the floor dramatically. “Fine. Keep your lies. But I’m putting this in the mission report.”

“No one reads those,” Natasha said.

“I DO!” Sam yelled.

Outside, the target was already being cuffed. Natasha waved casually at the building’s security camera. Mission: complete.

Inside, Bucky took your hand under the table—quick, quiet, and hidden from the whiteboard of doom.

You smiled.

Sam didn’t see.

He was too busy sketching his next whiteboard masterpiece: “Trust No One: Except Maybe Nat. (Still Investigating.)”

As soon as Sam stomped down the ramp and out of the van—still muttering about “betrayal” and “at least Tony would’ve let me interrogate the toaster”—you and Bucky just… sat there.

In the silence.

Watching the whiteboard sway slightly from his exit.

After a beat, Bucky reached over and gently nudged one of the red strings off a pushpin.

“That’s better,” he said.

You snorted. “I’m honestly shocked he didn’t have a slideshow with animations.”

“Oh, he did. He just couldn’t figure out how to get the HDMI to work.”

You turned toward him on the small bench seat, tucking one leg under yourself. The van’s interior lights buzzed faintly, casting a soft, warm glow across Bucky’s face. He looked calm now. Not mission-mode Bucky, not suspiciously-neutral Bucky. Just… yours.

“Think he’ll ever stop suspecting?” you asked, voice low.

He tilted his head slightly, thinking. “Doubt it. But I think Nat officially joined the conspiracy, so we’ve bought ourselves time.”

You smiled. “Good. I like our secret.”

“Me too.” He paused. “But I wouldn’t mind if it wasn’t a secret someday.”

You looked at him, really looked. There was that little furrow in his brow again—the one that showed up when he was being sincere and slightly terrified about it.

Your heart did a slow, quiet somersault.

“I wouldn’t either,” you said gently. “But for now... this is kind of fun.”

Bucky smiled—that real smile. The soft one that crinkled the corners of his eyes and made your stomach flip. The one Sam claimed was statistically impossible without “emotional compromise.”

Without a word, he reached behind him, grabbed the emergency blanket from the supply bin, and draped it over both your shoulders. Then he leaned into you, shoulder against yours, warm and solid.

“You cold?” he asked, even though you weren’t shivering.

“No,” you said. “But I’ll allow the dramatic gesture.”

He nudged your foot with his. “You always allow my dramatic gestures.”

“Because they come with blanket rights.”

He chuckled, then reached over and laced his fingers through yours beneath the blanket. His metal thumb gently brushed along your knuckles in a slow, grounding rhythm. It made your chest ache—in the good, heart-melting way.

For a while, neither of you said anything. The van was quiet. Peaceful. The outside world was just a blur through tinted windows. Inside, it was warm, and calm, and yours.

Then Bucky said, very seriously, “We should keep one of Sam’s whiteboards.”

You blinked. “Why?”

“For our future apartment. I’ll write ‘Reasons I Like You’ on it.”

You grinned. “Oh yeah? What’s reason number one?”

He squeezed your hand. “This.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder, feeling his breath shift as he leaned gently into you too.

“Number two?” you mumbled.

He kissed the top of your head, soft and quick and secret.

“Still working on the list,” he whispered.

You smiled against his arm.

The emergency blanket was still around your shoulders when you remembered.

You sat up straight, eyes widening. “Wait.”

Bucky blinked at you. “What?”

You slowly turned your head toward the corner of the van.

The camera stared back. Silent. Judgy. Still recording.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, horror dawning. “The blanket moment. The hand-holding. The forehead kiss.”

Bucky followed your gaze, then visibly winced. “Right. Fury’s spy cam.”

You both froze in place like kids caught stealing cookies on a security feed.

You buried your face in your hands. “We’re toast. Fury is going to give us the dad talk.”

“I’m not afraid of Fury,” Bucky said automatically. Then he paused. “Okay, maybe a little. But I’m more afraid of Natasha.”

As if summoned, Natasha’s voice crackled over comms again. “Just to confirm—yes, the camera caught all of that. And yes, I’m saving it for your engagement slideshow.”

Bucky groaned and dropped his forehead to your shoulder. “We’re gonna die.”

You laughed. “She has footage, Bucky. We are so compromised.”

“Maybe if we act super professional now, she’ll delete it,” he said, sitting up straighter and clearing his throat. “Agent Barnes, commencing protocol alpha. Tactical—uh—tactical recon blanket deployment successful.”

You snorted. “Copy that. Agent Y/N initiating hand-holding for… morale support.”

Natasha’s voice came through again, deadpan. “Truly inspiring. I’ll put it in your performance review.”

You made a face at the camera. “You better at least edit in music. I want violins if this goes public.”

“Please,” Natasha said. “You’re getting a slow piano montage and a ‘Mission: Love Possible’ title card.”

Bucky made a strangled noise somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “We should’ve stayed emotionally repressed.”

You nudged his side gently. “You say that, but you’re the one who initiated the blanket cuddle.”

He squinted. “That’s slander.”

“Camera says otherwise.”

Bucky turned to the lens like he was negotiating with a supervillain. “Nat. Come on. Can’t you just pretend you didn’t see that?”

There was a pause.

Then: screenshot sound.

Both of you groaned.

“Okay,” you muttered. “New mission. Break into Natasha’s room and delete the footage.”

“Impossible,” Bucky said. “She probably has laser traps.”

Natasha’s voice chirped one last time. “Correct. And a pressure-sensitive chocolate drawer. Touch it, and I release the singing drones.”

You blinked. “The what?”

“Don’t ask,” Bucky said immediately.

After a beat of quiet dread, you both looked back at each other—and just started laughing. That quiet, ridiculous kind of laugh you only get when you’re this in love and this caught.

Bucky shook his head, reaching for your hand again. “You know what? Fine. Let her record it. Let Fury analyze it. Let SHIELD make it into a training video called ‘Advanced Emotional Espionage.’ I don’t care.”

You smiled. “Wow. That’s bold.”

“Besides,” he added, leaning in, voice low and smug, “if we’re already being filmed—”

“Don’t,” you warned, laughing as you held up a finger. “We are not making out in front of the security camera.”

He grinned. “What if it’s just a dramatic hug? For morale.”

“Morale my ass,” you said, but you still let him pull you in.

You sat there together—arms wrapped tight, blanket still draped around your shoulders, faces half-hidden from the camera’s angle.

And as the monitor quietly beeped with another “all clear” signal, Bucky whispered in your ear:

“Reason number two: You always let me have the last muffin.”

You laughed softly and tucked your head under his chin.

“Reason number three?” you asked.

He kissed your temple. “You make this feel easy.”

And from her position on the roof, Natasha took one last photo—then switched off the comm and muttered to herself, “God, they’re disgusting.”

Then she smiled.

And added the file to a folder on her encrypted drive labeled: ‘BLACKMAIL or BEST MAN SPEECH’ — TBD.

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[barefeet-only]

Shakespeare in the Park Got Nothing on This

Danny felt death in the air. He first felt it when Talia started following him. It was like he wanted to cough but just couldn’t. His ghost sense wasn’t fully activating but he knew someone death touched was near. One of the ghosts in the area gave him a description of who was following him and he knew it was her. 

Despite his first instinct being to run, Danny quickly realized that it wasn’t like Talia could hurt him anyway. Being half-ghost had its perks, and his life away from the League of Assassins had taught him some perspective on threat levels. Besides, it had been nearly twenty-two years since he last spoke to her, and he had some things he wanted to say to Talia. 

So Danny wandered randomly throughout the city as he thought of all the things he wanted to say to his mother. When he finally felt confident, he walked into a random coffee shop and ordered a drink that would signal to her that he knew about her presence. He couldn’t force Talia to sit with him and talk, but he hoped that she had just enough interest in him to try. As they had their conversation he could tell Talia was on edge the entire time. His presence was making her nervous, and for the life of him Danny could not figure out why. 

But when she said the name Damian and the teenager walked into the coffee shop, Danny instantly knew. 

“He’s your son isn’t he?”

Talia tensed, her back had been to the door of the cafe so she didn’t see the boy walk in, but she definitely heard the door chime ring. In a moment of weakness that she would normally never allow, she turned away from Danny to look at her son. Their green eyes met and Talia made a reckless decision. 

The assassin pulled the knife from Danny’s hand and moved to puncture his larynx. Just as the tip of the blade reached his skin, Signal appeared next to her, forcefully grabbing her arm and slamming her onto the table. The drinks spilled and everyone in the coffee shop took notice of their situation. People quickly either took photos or fled from the scene, the baristas only stopped for a moment before continuing their work. 

Spoiler stepped forward to direct the scene. 

While Talia was being held down and restrained Danny got a closer look at the boy who had entered. Initially the guess had nothing to do with the teenager, but the closer he looked at ‘Damian’ the more it became clear that this was Talia’s son. The same death-touched aura that surrounded Talia was shared by this boy, likely the Lazarus Pits. Beyond the metaphysical traits, their physical traits were very similar as well. They both shared intense green eyes and warm brown skin, their lithe frames were practically identical and the sharp nose was a dead ringer. Damn, Fenton luck strikes again, Danny thought. The chances of running into his unknown half-brother had to be near impossible, and yet here he was. 

Danny looked down at Talia who was seething, not that anyone but him would be able to tell. Danny would always be able to tell if his mother was angry; it was about the only feeling besides hate or indifference he was ever able to associate with her. So, in true Danny fashion, he did something reckless. He leaned down towards Talia’s ear, despite Signal loudly telling him to step back, and began to whisper. 

“Good talk Talia, kind of nostalgic the way it ended.”

Danny knew there was no way to keep her away now that she was aware of his presence. But he also knew that he didn’t fear her the same way he did as a child. He no longer worshipped her as the faultless assassin, instead he felt an indifference towards Talia. She wasn’t the woman who raised him, no longer the tormentor of his childhood, just a hateful woman with no bearing on his life. If she wanted to interject herself in his life then Danny had plenty to say to her. And if she tried to hurt anyone he cared about: well let’s just say that there were plenty of ghosts that Danny could call on to hunt her down with. 

Danny stood up and looked towards Damian, the teen seemed to be in a fluid flux of emotions. Indignation for the treatment for his mother, condescension at the heroes (likely because he knew that his mother could easily escape the cuffs that were put on her), and a calculating eye towards Danny himself. He was clearly League trained, and was very quickly sizing up Danny’s threat level. Danny wanted to laugh at the idea, but then he saw how viciously Talia was staring at him for even looking at Damian and all he could feel was bitterness. So she can love a child, he thought ruefully. Danny and Damian looked so similar, yet so different that a part of his soul hurt. Danny was pale in comparison to his brother (ever since he died he had never been able to get back to the darkness of his youth) and where Danny’s proportions were a little awkward, Damian had the figure of a supermodel. Whoever the teen’s dad was clearly had some killer looks, the father’s genes were clearly strong in him. 

Wait, isn’t that Damian Wayne? 

-

When Duke had seen the vision of Talia attacking their mystery man he had acted quickly. He grabbed Steph and shadow travelled them into the Batty Grind. When they reformed inside Damian entered at the same time. Signal didn’t spare him a glance, he pulled at his powers again to reform next to the table. He caught the blade just before the tip punctured the man’s neck. Quickly, Signal slammed Talia down onto the table (very satisfying by the way) and cuffed her. 

Spoiler grabbed the knife that had been dropped on the table in the grapple for Talia. 

“No sharp objects for you. Didn’t your dad ever teach you not to point these at people?” She teased. 

Signal knew that he couldn’t keep Talia there forever, but Spoiler was quickly directing the scene to get the civilians' attention off of them. This gave him enough time to readjust his grip on the assassin and observe the target more closely. 

The man had deep blue eyes and sharp facial features, Duke still couldn’t tell if he was Middle Eastern or White. He reminded Duke of Damian, so he could be mixed. However the most striking feature of this man was that he had no aura. Everyone has an aura, it’s normally just a small flicker of colour that emanated from a person. But this man has nothing, it was almost like Duke wasn’t allowed to see into this man’s soul. The same thing happened when they were in the alley as well, his Ghost Vision hadn’t let him see the potential victim, only Talia attacking. Even now when he tried to use his telescopic vision he couldn’t observe the man before him, he was too smooth, almost into the uncanny valley. Duke’s abilities kept sliding off of him like water off a duck. It was honestly kind of frustrating. 

He was so distracted by his powers not working that he overreacted to the man leaning down to whisper in Talia’s ear. Signal held tighter onto Talia after the man stood up. Something about him made the hero tense up and his fear seemed justified as the man stared down Damian. 

-

So Talia fucked Bruce Wayne…Why?

If there was one thing that Danny knew about his mother it was that she never would have a child willingly after he was born. And she clearly seemed to care about Damian, since she didn’t even want Danny to look at him. So Talia obviously had to care about Bruce Wayne to have his child but that brings up the question of why. There had to be something special about him for Talia to have a child with him. 

Part of Danny wanted to ask her what about Bruce Wayne made her happy to have his child but his father made her consider filicide. But he knew he would never get the answer, just like Ra’s would never tell him who his father was. They were truly father and daughter in that aspect. So instead of cursing himself to a lifetime of what-ifs, he left. 

“Thank you Signal and Spoiler, I would have been a goner if you guys hadn’t stepped in. Guess this will teach me about stranger danger.”

The vigilantes were trying to corner him and get him to give a witness statement or get medical attention for his hand but Danny wasn’t part ghost, and an ex-assassin, for nothing. He evaded them before they could get him in a bad position and gave them a salute on the way out. Danny had less than a week left in Gotham and then he was heading back home to Illinois. This would be the last time Danny would ever see an Al Ghul if he had anything to say about it. 

-

Signal and Spoiler brought Talia to an abandoned warehouse owned by Wayne Enterprises and waited until everyone could converge in suit for a discussion. Talia had tried to escape three times in the hours they had to wait for everyone to get there. Duke’s abilities allowed him to predict what she was going to do but it did not help the stress of the situation. Especially since the assassin seemed determined to escape. 

Her tenacity to presumably finish off her target had everyone on edge. Especially since the man in the cafe was nowhere to be found. Oracle hadn’t been able to get a visual on him as the footage from the cafe was too low quality and both Signal and Spoiler’s cameras weren’t able to clearly get his face. They had been forced to use a sketch made by Damian to try and find him. Not ideal but better than nothing.

Duke and Steph had been trying to get Talia to reveal who her target was with no luck. But the roar of the Batmobile let them relax, Bruce and Damian were always better at getting Talia to loosen up than the rest of the brood. Batman stepped out of the vehicle with Robin in tow. 

“Signal, Spoiler, any updates?”

“Three escape attempts and no answers on who she was trying to kill.” 

“Hmm.”

Batman looked at Talia and approached her. 

“Talia, why are you in my city?”

Talia leaned forward and looked up to Batman through her lashes, a seduction technique she had used with him many times before. 

She hummed, “Can’t I visit my beloved and child, or am I barred from even that?”

Batman growled. 

“Don’t play games with me Talia, who was the man you tried to kill?”

Talia rolled her eyes and sat up straight, knowing she wasn’t going to get out of this. She’s never been so sloppy before and this was the price she was going to have to pay. However she needed to get out of here quickly, the longer she wasted time here the more time she gave to her target to plan. 

“He’s an ex-league member. He escaped twenty years ago and now I must complete the task that should have been done when he left.”

“Twenty years ago, that doesn’t make sense,” Spoiler interrupted, “I saw him myself and that guy was barely into his twenties. You telling me a four-year-old waddled his way out of the League of Emos?”

Talia glared at the blonde girl. 

“Danyal is in his thirties, though I do not know why he is so youthful. He might have found a Lazarus Pit for himself and harnessed its power. However it is not his physicality that concerns me, he demonstrated a phase shifting ability as I was following him, and the knife I stabbed him with had no blood on it when I pulled it out.”

Batman looked to Spoiler and Signal, Signal showed him the dagger that had been put in an evidence bag as proof. There wasn’t a drop of red on it.  

“Beloved, I know you don’t kill but you must let me complete my task. Even if you must assist me in capturing him we have to take Danyal out before he is allowed to act. If not for me, then for our son, Damian cannot be tainted by that man.”

-

It was not the last time Danny saw an Al Ghul. 

Danny didn’t want to know how, but for some reason, Damian Wayne had cornered him while he was on a walk through Gotham Park. Now, Danny was here because it was one of the few places in Gotham that shades didn’t bother him every ten seconds. There was something about an agreed neutrality zone that some spirit told him about in relation to the park. In the end it didn’t really matter, Danny just wanted to sort out his thoughts after seeing Talia and finding out he had a half brother. Frankly, he wasn’t super thrilled about discovering he had more family from his psychotic genetic creators. Maybe the kid was chill but not likely, the League was a stifling place that made a person freeze their heart instead of cope with their feelings. In the end, Danny just didn’t know if he could keep the bitterness of his mother away from the association of Damian. 

Frankly the only reason Danny had recognized the boy was because Sam had called him about some article about a gala thrown to raise money against animal testing. She even made a joke about how the goth vegan rich kid tradition did not die with her when she left her teenage years. To which he joked that he wasn’t sure if the kid was goth or just angsty. 

Danny had just stood up from the bench he was occupying with the intention of returning to his long term hotel when his brother dropped down before him in full Robin regalia. 

Great, more information I didn’t want to learn today.

Once again the taste of death had spoiled the identity of Damian but Danny was going to elect to pretend that he had no clue who the teen before him was. Ignorance was a gift and he certainly wasn’t going to throw it away. 

“Danyal, alias Daniel Fenton, here in Gotham to supposedly sell his security device company Spectral Protection to a well-known subsidiary of Lex Corp. A valiant cover, especially with the devotion to stay in Gotham for three months, however all your effort was for nothing when a League of Assassins member spotted you. Whatever your plans are, reveal them to me now and I shall not let you fall into their hands. We both know what they do to traitors.” 

Robin’s voice was cold and confident, but his unease with the situation was apparent; his hand rested on the pommel of his katana, ready for any sudden moves. For a moment, Danny was tempted to play dumb, mainly because that actually was the reason he was in Gotham. However, it was clear that his mother had spoken to his brother and told him of who he was. Well, probably not everything; because a) Talia didn’t know anything about Danny and b) she was an Al Ghul through and through, if there was an opportunity to be cryptic and withhold information she would do it. 

Danny sighed and resigned himself to the idea that his last week in Gotham was going to be way less peaceful than intended.

“Just call me Danny, I hate my full name being used, gives me the heebie jeebies.”

Robin narrowed his eyes, “You did not answer my question.”

Danny rolled his eyes and put his hands in his pockets. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m sure Talia gave you some bullshit reason about why you should kill me, or let her kill me. But do you think you could do me a favor and let me go home? I promise I’m not here to take over the world or something stupid like that. I’m just a guy trying to get a sweet paycheck so that I can achieve my lifelong goal of retiring by thirty-five.”

Robin did not move, if anything his glare got more intense.

“I’ll promise to never step back in Gotham again. I can even sign a contract. Lord knows I’ve been signing a lot of those lately.” He mumbled the last part. 

Robin still did not move.

“Want me to throw Metropolis in there too? I know the big bat has some kind of homoerotic situationship with the Man of Steel, would that make him happy?”

Danny swore he heard giggling in the distance, but it was hard to tell if it was a ghost or a snooping vigilante. Both were likely options, in fact both might have happened since Danny could see some spirits very badly pretending not to listen in. Damian however, did not seem to find his semi-joke very funny. If anything the shaking seemed to be from anger if anything. His half-brother did not seem to develop a sense of humor in his time outside the League. Damian breathed deeply and released his hold on his katana. 

“Do not try to distract me by making light of the situation. What are your plans?” His voice was cold and steely. Effectively cutting to the core of the problem with as few words as possible. 

Danny sighed. “Exactly what I told you before, and highly unlikely but do you think you can keep the information you have on me away from Talia? I tried really hard to disappear from the League of Assassins and specifically her influence. It really sucks that a stroke of bad luck is what got us back in touch after all these years.”

Unfortunately that hope died pretty quickly because Talia’s presence was immediately detected by Danny. She had just arrived and was getting into position over by the trees to their left. Danny has spent years perfecting his ghost sense, no longer did he just have a vague awareness of when ghosts were in a general radius. Now he was able to tell their exact position once they were close enough and he was even able to get their intentions by probing into their energy. If only that trick worked on the living, it would make his life so much easier. 

Danny shushed Robin, who was ranting about his foolish behaviour, and turned to where Talia was. 

“Twice in one day? Really trying to make up for twenty-one years of missed birthdays aren’t you?” Robin, who looked infuriated at being silenced quickly turned to his mother who was taking aim from the tree line. “Do emancipated children qualify for child support checks, or does that only count for genetic donors?”

Three things happened at once. The assassin shot a blow dart out from her hiding spot, Batman dove down from wherever he was hiding to tackle her, and Danny dodged the projectile before making his way to his mother. Robin quickly chased after Danny, making a motion to tackle the man to the ground. He missed. Danny wasn’t sitting on his ass for all his years outside the advanced ninjas club, he knew how to dodge a tackle. Robin landed on the ground but quickly rolled and popped up next to Batman. Who had a slight death aura, but that was to be expected after nearly thirty year of vigilante work. Danny ignored both and squatted before Talia.

“Two failed assassination attempts in one day, getting rusty in your old age.” He teased. 

The assassin glared at him.

“You were fortunate enough to find refuge in a city where those who protect do not kill. Had I found you elsewhere, we never would have had a conversation in the first place.”

Danny felt a rueful smile grace his face. 

“It’s not like I chose the setting; if it were up to me, we never would have met.” Danny stood up and looked at Robin. “You would have continued with your life thinking I was dead, and I never would have learned you had another son.”

Batman and Robin stiffened at the information, both so identical. Almost like they were father and son. Batman took his eyes off the man in front of him and looked down at Talia. 

“You did not inform me that Danyal was your child.”

Danny scoffed. “Of course she wouldn’t, she hated me from the day I was born. I’m not really her child, just the unfortunate thing she was forced to give birth to. But instead of throwing me away like any rational parent would do, she tries to kill me.”

Danny looked up to Batman, who was very stoic despite the information that was being thrown at him. 

“Look, I know you have no reason to trust me, but I’ve spent my life trying to escape from the shadow of the League. Please, if you have any sympathy let me go back to my normal life far away from here.”

Well, as normal as a half-ghost’s life is, but he doesn’t need to know that. 

-

Batman stared at him for a long time, thinking deeply. He was seriously considering letting the man before him leave. However he knew it would be fruitless to let him go now, Talia was aware of his presence and his team had given her that information. Batman knew they were being hasty with the knowledge they shared but when Talia said his son was a risk he believed her. Talia never played with Damian’s life, for all her failings as a mother she did love her son. Her hysteria and paranoia had fed his own, and now the consequences of that choice were staring him in the face. 

Danyal, or rather Danny as he liked to be called, clearly operated as a civilian. His bangs sat too far down his face to be practical, the piercings in his ears were minimal but identifiable, and his clothes were professional but not fitted. Cheap and not name brand. The “cover story” was looking to be a reality and not a fabrication to get access to the city. It was tempting to believe that the young man before him had actually escaped the life of bloodshed.

Talia scoffed. “You can’t believe his story can you? He’s playing to your weakness, beloved. Your want for the violence of the world to be gone. The desire that a person could change from their upbringing. Danyal may be a blunt sword but he is a sword nonetheless.”

Danny glared at her but it didn’t cover up the raw hurt in his eyes. It would seem parents always knew how to hurt their children no matter how long they are apart. Batman turned to Robin to gauge his son’s reaction. Damian seemed conflicted, while he had long since become disillusioned with his mother there was still the hurt of finding out she had a child before him. That he was once again a shadow for someone else.

Bruce pressed harder on Talia. 

Clearly she was worried that Danny would kill Damian. It was a fear Bruce shared as well. The prodigal son versus the one who was forgotten, a story of David and Goliath. Yet Batman wanted to believe in a world where someone who learned the trade of bloodshed, and decided to drop the knife. Someone who had seen the violence of the world and said they did not want to add to it. It was a naive thought, not suited to someone as old and jagged as him, so he looked towards his son. 

“Why did you let Danyal go, mother?”

Talia stopped sneering and looked at her son, her gaze softer as she looked at Damian. It was impressive since her stoic features never betrayed her, yet something in her eyes softened looking at him. A flaw that both Bruce and her shared when it came to their son. Her brow arched at the question, the what do you mean was implicit. 

Damian steeled himself and met her gaze. 

“Never once in my life have I known you to leave a job unfinished. There is no world in which you would have let this man leave unless you wanted it to happen.”

“It’s because she didn’t know.”

Danny spoke up, Batman focused his attention back on the man before him. Danny seemed tense and ashamed, all the bravado he had earlier was quickly draining from his body. The broken boy was slowly being revealed. 

“Her attention was drawn away from me. Some new recruit to the League that had impressed Ra’s. I was already quickly losing favor between the two, and when the new guy on the scene seemed like he was a potential successor to the Demon’s Head, I was to be discarded.”

Bruce felt his blood turn to ice. He was the reason that the man before him had to flee from the League of Assassins. 

Danny smiled, but it was grim and weak.

“I had already been planning my escape for months, since Talia and Ra’s weren’t around to monitor me. The assassins pushed up my schedule, but I knew that those two were going to try something sooner rather than later. So I ran. They hunted me down and cornered me, left me bleeding out in the middle of a bazaar.” Danny shoved his hands in his coat pockets as a poor way to hide how they were shaking. “I guess they pitied me since they didn’t stay to confirm the kill and a passerby found me and brought me to the local doctor.”

Moments passed as his son took in the new information. Conflicting feelings passed through his eyes and Batman knew that this was one time where he could not help Robin. Damian looked to Talia. 

“Would you have done the same to me, mother?”

Bruce felt his heart break. While he might not have approved of Talia’s teachings, he knew she cared about her son. That she was a ruthless instructor, but it was because she believed that was what Damian needed to survive. It didn’t excuse all the horrible acts she had committed towards her son – sons. But it gave context to the woman’s actions. With Damian it was never about hatred, but pride and fear. And now all of her choices were being brought back and presented in a new light, not for the first time Damian was doubting if all he had been put through had been worth it. Bruce longed to take his son away from here, where he could feel the love of one parent who would not give up on him. Unfortunately Batman could not present that weakness for all to see. He had to remain impassive to his son’s struggles else he risked getting distracted. 

Talia squirmed below him, getting some leverage to force her torso upwards. She stared at Damian with all the love a murderer like her could muster. 

She spoke softly. “No, habibi,” Danny flinched, turned away from his mother like the words burned him, “That never would happen to you, Damian, because you were so talented and because you are my son.”

“I was your son too!” Danny shouted. 

Everyone flinched at the outburst. They turned to see the shaking form of Danny, his eyes glowing a familiar green. It seemed like air around him turned to ice as Batman tried to assess the threat before him. He still had a hold on Talia, but it was loosening. If Danny began to fall under the influence of the Pit then he would have to release her. Batman could not let Robin face a raged out ex-assassin alone. 

But then the strangest thing happened, Danny calmed down. Like the strings being cut off a marionette puppet, all the tension left his body and Danny’s eyes returned to their ice blue. The man before him took a deep breath and then stepped back. He took one last look at his mother and half-brother before turning around. Danny barely even turned his head to deliver his last words. 

“I’m done playing this game, I tried to do this peacefully but I’m only going to say this once. Talia, if you ever try to find me I will kill you in a way that not even your soul will reach the afterlife. Stay the fuck out of my life, enjoy the son you finally wanted and leave me alone. That goes for you two as well.”

And with that Danyal disappeared into the night. Fading far too quickly to be natural yet none of them could do a thing to stop it. 

[depressedtifosa]

summary: When the Front Man's girlfriend is a recurring VIP, the stolen conversations become a lot more valuable. pairing: Hwang In-ho x reader

“You know what they say. All work, no play—”

“My name’s luckily not Jack, so I’m safe,” you tell the fellow VIP with a mean smile.

All of you had dinner together, and they have just decided to keep the night going, raising the stakes a little. If they want to play poker, let them play poker, but you’re not sticking around for their stupid, shallow chatter. 

Instead, you wander out of the room, looking for a familiar face that you were beginning to miss. The stupid little cat and mouse game he’s been playing is getting on your nerves, but you’re nice enough to keep playing along for now.

You don’t miss the way a guard’s head turns as they follow your every move, but you can’t be bothered by the attention. He wouldn’t let them hurt you, so there’s nothing to be afraid of.

“Getting bored of your VIP friends?” 

Without turning to look at the man in gray, you let out a sarcastic laugh. “Friends, right,” you note dryly. 

It’s there in the air, the tension that’s hard to miss, even by people who share the room with you. One guard, your assigned waiter who’s making sure you always get what you want, and some poor soul who has to stand there and look pretty. It’s ridiculous, but sadly, that’s what the other VIPs need. 

“So, you’re looking for me then?” he wonders quietly, his voice distorted by static. 

You don’t want to make it easy for him, you want to play hard to get, but how could you? You know him, you’ve seen that face and body so many times in the past that you could recall every imperfection, every scar. 

And just thinking about really seeing him again after those four dreadful months apart, you can’t promise not to blow your cover with a move that couldn’t normally happen between a guest and the Front Man.

“I’ve met some of them before, and trust me, the last thing I want is their company when I can have you too.” There’s a quiet scoff leaving his lips. It’s easy to miss, but you pick up on it. “You want it too.”

The mask can’t get in the way of you finding out he just rolled his eyes at you. It’s been a while since you’ve started dating, by now you can tell how he reacts to things instinctively. 

Yet, he refuses to admit it. “I’m here as the Front Man, not as your boyfriend, and you’re here as a VIP, not as my girlfriend,” he points out.

“You’re smiling under that mask, In-ho, I can tell,” you say, doing your best to keep a straight face. 

His mask hides his whole face, but yours only covers the upper half. The guests are usually having a blast being here, so it’s not unusual to smile and laugh, but he’s always a professional, always keeping a certain distance. 

The Old Man was different, but that’s okay. It’s better this way.

“Oh, so you think you know everything?” When you let out a hum of agreement, he lets out a sigh and turns his eyes away from the screen the two of you have been seemingly watching. “What am I thinking about right now?”

It doesn’t take too much brain activity to figure out. “Me, in your bed, naked, preferably kissing my way down to—”

“Enough,” he warns.

“What? You were the one who asked,” you inform him. “Was I right, though?”

In-ho looks at you, and once again, you can tell what expression he has on his face. It’s one full of love and affection, the kind of look you only see when he’s alone with you. But tonight, it only feels like it was the two of you in a room full of people—and cameras. 

But it’s there.

And it’s real.

“As always,” he says eventually.

Letting out a dreamy sigh, you lean a little closer to him. “I wish we could have some alone time here without anyone noticing,” you whisper.

He takes a deep breath before responding, but whatever he wanted to say stays bitten back. Something catches his eye, drawing his attention away from you, back to the screen where the night cameras are sweeping the dormitory, and are now focusing on Player 456.

“What is it?” you ask as you turn your full attention to the screen. 

There has to be a reason why this particular player has caught his attention. From what you can see, he’s handcuffed to the bed, and he looks sick, or depressed, or maybe both at the same time. Whatever happened to him? You can’t recall ever seeing a player being treated like this.

But In-ho remains silent, deep in thought, probably already forgetting you’re standing there. 

Just when you make up your mind to ask again, this time being a little more specific, a familiar and very annoying voice calls out for you from the private room’s direction.

“Hey, missy, we thought you had business to take care of,” the other VIP yells. “Stop chatting, and come back to play with us. It’s so much fun!”

That guy certainly won’t remember anything tomorrow based on how drunk he is. No wonder a stupid game of poker is this exciting to him, despite you all being there to watch people slaughter each other for money. But he’s always been like this, caring more about the social part of this visit then the actual endgame.

In-ho tenses up on your side as he finally pays attention to what’s happening around him and looks at the man across the room. 

“Nah, I only stopped to ask for a hint for tomorrow’s game, but our beloved Front Man decided to zip his lips for the rest of the night,” you shout back with a fake laugh. The man waves, then disappears behind the door as suddenly as he appeared. “I’ll go back to my room and do some unholy things in there while I think about you,” you whisper with a wicked grin. 

[lostbookmark]

MDNI 🔞

Main Masterlist here

Game Masterlist here

Summary: After the death of your brother and his wife. You find yourself adjusting to a new role in your life. A single parent to your teenage nephew. How do you help him heal? How do you help yourself heal? You're not sure. You don't think you can, until an annoying basketball coach enters your life and turns everything around.

Pairing: Basketball Coach Yoongi x Single Aunt F. Reader

Genre: Romance, Angst, Smut, Strangers to Lovers,

Warnings: Death Of Parents / Brother/ Family, Car Accident (Cause), Swearing, Explicit Sex, Arguments, Physical Fighting, Past Abusive Relationship, Talks Of Domestic Violence, Unprotected Sex, mention of grandparent passing

SMUT!!

Bangtan Ravens

Undefeated

8-0

“Okay,” Yoongi says, rounding everyone up on the bleachers after practice. “Just a few reminders before everyone leaves tonight. Monday is a holiday, and since it's a long weekend for the kids with no school tomorrow and Monday, we will have no practice those days, nor will there be a game this weekend. Does anyone have any questions?”

“No questions, but I want to invite everyone to my house this weekend for one last cookout,” pizza dough mom says, and then she leans over tapping you on the shoulder. “And I mean EVERYONE's invited.”

You give a tight-lipped smile and nod your head, acknowledging her invite. However, there was no way in hell you were going. You guess you could be grateful for the … intentional invite, but that was it.

“Thank you for that,” Yoongi says, trying to turn the attention away from you.

“Well, it wouldn't hurt for you to show up either,” she continues, giving him a pointed stare. “You never show up.”

All the kids laugh at the call out, and you have to admit, it was kind of funny. You suck in your cheeks to stop yourself from smiling.

“Unfortunately, I already have plans to go camping with my friends, but thank you for the invite. ANYWAY,” he clears his throat. “If there are no more questions about the schedule, then I'll see you all on Tuesday. Have a safe holiday.”

The kids all jump up bags already in hand, racing toward sweet freedom. Parents follow quickly behind them, not wanting to waste their four day weekend. Standing from your seat, you walk down the steps as Nicky and Mark's son race out of the gym together, laughing. As you reach the bottom step, a body suddenly knocks into you, causing you to quickly grab the middle handrail to stabilize yourself so you don't fall over. Ara doesn't even look at you as she continues to walk past you.

“Are you okay?” Yoongi asks, coming up to you.

“She knows,” you tell him as you watch her leave the gym.

“We don't know that,” he replies, tossing some balls to Jungkook on the other side of the gym, who catches them and puts them on a rack.

“Sure,” you say. “I still can't believe you're going camping. How is that even fun? There's bugs and no Wifi.”

“Spending time with my friends in nature, drinking and eating,” he laughs. “What's not to enjoy? We've been doing it since college.”

“Isn't Yeri about to pop that baby out at like … anytime?” You ask.

“She's still got about three weeks, but Joon is only staying one night,” he tells you, and you nod. “You know … just in case.”

“Well,” you sigh. “I have to get home and pack Nicky.”

“Pack Nicky?” He asks, looking confused. “Where is he going?”

“Oh, he's going with my parents to visit some family for a family reunion that they go to every year,” you explain, rolling your eyes. “I'm not allowed to go because I beat this cousin up once. Anyway, they won't be back until Monday.”

“You never told me that,” he says, eyes wide, mouth open.

“I didn't?” You tap your chin acting like you were thinking back on past conversations. “I was going to surprise you, but you spoiled that by going camping. Too bad, we could have had a lot of… fun.” He opens his mouth to argue, but you cut him off. “I'm not mad. I hope you have fun with your friends. I'll just enjoy the peace and quiet for once.”

“Maybe I can…” he begins, but you shake your head. The last thing you wanted to do was ruin a tradition for him and his friends.

“No, tell everyone I said hi and … don't get eaten by a bear,” you smile and pat him on the chest. “I'll see you when you get back.”

Laughing to yourself, you leave the gym making your way to your car and your waiting nephew.

“What's so funny?” He asks as you climb into the driver's seat.

“Nothing,” you say. “Are you ready to get packing?”

“Do I have to go?” He whines. “Grandma's family is weird.”

“I know,” you say, starting your car and pulling away. “But, yes, you have to go. Now listen, your dad was the favorite grandkid. So, really play up being sad around great grandma and grandpa, and I bet you get some cool shit from them.”

“Gottcha, I can do that,” he nods. “Hey, sunshine?”

“Yeah?” You reply.

“WIll you be alright while I'm gone?” He asks. “Coach will be gone too, and I don't want you all alone.”

“What did we talk about?” You question him. “You are not to worry about me. Go and have fun. Be a kid, get in trouble … not too much trouble. Leave all the worries to me.”

“Okay,” he agrees quietly.

You reach over and ruffle his sweaty hair. Sticking your tongue out in disgust, you proceed to wipe your wet hand on his shirt and continue your drive home. Maybe having some time alone wouldn't be too bad. Maybe it would be just what you needed.

Spooning some chocolate cream in your mouth straight from the carton as you laid on the couch while watching what you wanted on the tv felt … boring and almost exhausting. You missed Nicky, you missed Yoongi. Hell, you even missed your brother, and that was saying something. Another spoonful of sweet cream has you shaking your head at the tv.

You've cleaned your house from top to bottom, did a load of laundry, went grocery shopping, and now you're on your sixth hour of trashy reality television. You've never envisioned this being your life, but here you are. It's four thirty, and you're having an early dinner of ice cream in your pajamas while laying on the couch.

“Idiot Mary, you are 56 he is 27 he is only marrying you for a green card,” you say outloud to the black device on the entertainment system. “Morons, you are all a bunch of morons.” Before you dig your spoon into the wax coated carton again, Yoongi crashing through your doorway has you almost dropping everything. “What the fuck…”

Without warning, Yoongi's body covers yours, and the ice cream box hits the coffee table. Lips attaching to yours, tasting the chocolate ice cream that you were indulging in. Moaning as his tongue slips past your lips to entangle with your own.

“What about camping?” You ask breathlessly, pulling back.

“I was so fucking hard lastnight thinking about you,” he groans attacking your neck. “I had to sneak away to my tent early.”

“Oh,” you laugh and pull at his hair as his teeth nip at a sensitive spot just behind your ear. “That doesn't sound very gentlemanly.”

“I have zero plans on being gentlemanly right now,” he informs you, looking you dead in the eyes, making you blink in surprise. “How does that sound?”

“Thank fuck,” you breathe out.

Pulling him down, your lips meet once again in a frenzy of moans and a clash of teeth. You didn't care that it was sloppy. Let it be. Let it be sloppy and wet. Let it be … RAW. Pushing him off you to a sitting position, you straddle his lap and immediately pull your shirt over your head, revealing your very naked torso to him.

“Should we move this to the bedroom?” He asks, sounding just as breathless as you feel.

“No,” you answer, pressing your lips to his neck.

Your fingers find the zipper on his thick fleece jacket, quickly pulling it down and off his shoulders. The both of you struggle to remove the jacket completely off him in your current position. Cursing, you pull back and fuss with pulling the jacket off him before glaring at him.

“How many damn layers are you wearing?” You ask, eyesing the second zip up.

“It was cold,” he defends himself, unzipping this one himself and throwing it across the room.

“Well, you won't be cold for long,” you say, kissing him again, running your hands up and under his shirt against his bare skin until you drag them down to the waistband of his sweatpants. “Don't hold back. I won't break”

“I won't,” he promises, licking his lips and watching your hands toys with his pants. “I'll give you anything you want tonight.”

Smiling, you stand and hook your own thumbs in your flimsy shorts before you slowly drag them down your legs. Standing straight, you kick them to the side and kneel between his legs, pulling his pants down his thighs. You bite your lip, trying not to laugh at how hard he was. He was not lying about getting worked up.

“Did you not take care of this last night?” You ask, jokingly as you take him in the palm of your hand and lick the underneath of his shaft from base to tip, making him hiss as you swirl your tongue around the sensitive tip.

“No,” he groans. “I just willed it away. It would have been too messy.”

“That's no fun,” you tell him before bobbing your head down on him, slowly taking more of him into your mouth each time as you go.

“Fuck, yeah,” he whispers, runnign his fingers through your messy hair. Moaning around him, you take a deep breath through your nose and slowly take him down your throat, causing him to drop his head back against the couch. “Goddamn, doll.”

You swallow around him a couple of times before pulling off him with a gasp and twisting your hand around him. Licking your lips, you take him back in your mouth and work alongside your hand, bringing him to the edge. Looking up at him through your lashes, you almost feel yourself lose it at the way his eyes are closed, and his tongue pokes at the corner of his lips.

Moaning around his length, you double your efforts, speeding up your movements. Watching him, he blinks rapidly as he grabs at his own hair trying to hold onto what self control he had and you knew with that fucking patience of his … he would be able to hold out.

It was a blessing and a curse.

Pulling off of him with a pop, you smirk at him with swollen lips and a wet face. He smirks back at you, eyes focus on your reddened lips. Dropping your head down toward your chest, you push some saliva that has pooled in your mouth out between your lips, making it drip between your breasts.

“What are you doing?” He asks, gazing following the wet trail.

Without answering, you place his still hardened member in the middle of your breasts and envelope it between your ample flesh.

“Having fun,” you answer, dragging his cock up against your body. “What about you?”

“You're too much,” he groans, watching intently as the tip of his cock peeks out at the top of your tits with every shove of your body.

“Should I stop?” You tease, backing away from him. “Are you bored? Maybe you should go back to camping. Go roast marshmallows, sing Kumbaya around the campfire.”

Yoongi grabs you under your arms and lifts you up onto the couch, effectively cutting off your teasing. Dropping to his knees onto the floor, he yanks your body so your ass lines up to the end of the cushions. Looking smug, he reaches over his head and tears his own shirt off, and casts it away somewhere in the room.

“This is familiar, isn't it?” He asks, drawing his tongue down the expanse of your inner thigh. “Except you don't have your dress hiked up over your hips this time. I like this better.”

Bringing his head down, he gives you the sweetest kiss right on the top of your sex before winking at you and letting that wicked tongue of his loose. As his tongue licks and slurps, his hands travel up over every curve of your arching, wiggling body.

“Put them inside me,” you beg.

Bring his hand to his mouth, Yoongi licks his middle and ring finger before running them through your wetness. Slowly, he spreads you open and eases his digits inside of you, causing you to sigh. Sitting back on his knees, he watches as his fingers slide in and out of you with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth.

“Yoongi,” you whine,rocking your hips into his hand. Chuckling, he bends, flicking your clit with his tongue as his fingers curl up just right. Your hands fly up, grabbing the arm of the couch as you push your hips into him harder. “Fuck, yes, Yoongi!”

Moaning against you, his vibrations set off that beautiful spin tingling sensation. His sharp, dark eyes watch as your chest starts to turn red and flush as his fingers press inside of you a bit more firmly. You look down at him, grabbing his blonde hair and press his face completely against you, causing him to groan more deeply. Your toes curl, and your head drops back against the couch as sob escapes your throat when you finally fall off that satisfying cliff. Yoongi wraps his hands around your legs, keeping them apart. Lapping hungrily at your center, not wasting a single drop of your release.

Placing your hand on his forehead, you gently push him away and watch him lick his lips as he moves away from you. He looks drunk on you and dammit, if it wasn't a sight to behold. Half lidded, shiny chin and completely…. in love? You weren't ready for that yet. At least, you didn't think you were.

As Yoongi stands, you slide off the couch, probably ungracefully onto your knees before him once again to pull down his pants all the way. He finally kicks his shoes and remaining clothes off for you to push him into a sitting position where you had him before. Climbing into his lap, you attach your lips to his, as his hands trail up and down you naked back before settling on your bottom, squeezing your plump form.

Reaching between the two of you, you adjust his still very hard member so you slide yourself over it. Yoongi gasps and grasps your hips, trying to stop your movements. You lick your lips nervously as you study his face.

“Are we being stupid right now?” He asks, chest raising and falling quickly.

“I'm not,” you say, leaning forward to rest your forehead on his. “Are you?”

“No,” he says quietly. “Are you sure?”

Reaching back between you, you take him back in your hand and line him up to your entrance. Molding your lips to his, you sink down onto him bare and raw…trusting him fully and completely. That warmth of him spreads through you as you sigh into his mouth, bottoming out on him.

Tilting your head back, you bring your hands back to rest on his knees and roll your hips. It's not a gentle, romantic sway of your hips. No, it's a steady rhythm that you get lost in. A rhythm that has his hands everywhere on you, needing to touch you.

“You're so fucking hot, doll,” he goans, eyes focused purely on your face.

Swiftly, you move to link your arms around his neck, pressing yourself closer to him. Bouncing on him, Yoongi snakes his hand down to strum his fingers against your still sensitive clit. Whining, you thrust your hips faster, pushing his face into your neck. You gasp at the sensation of his lips nipping at your overly heated skin.

“Fuck, Yoongi, fuck!” You exclaim, stiffening on his lap as your second wave of pleasure washes over you. His arms that encircled your waist hold you close to him while you catch your breath. Falling forward, you hang your head over his shoulder, lightly pressing your lips against his own heated skin. “Shit.”

“Can we go into your room?” He asks, voice sounding tight, and you lift your head, peeking at him. “The first time I come inside you. I don't want it to be on the couch where we eat half the time.”

Nodding in agreement, Yoongi tightens his grip on you and stands. You hurriedly wrap your legs around his lower back, trying not to fall. Thankfully, your shoebox house was small, and the trip down the hall was fast. Now, on your back, on your bed, Yoongi kisses you and kisses you and kisses you. Pulling back, he takes a moment to admire you, running a finger down the side of your face.

“Yoongi?” You question, looking up at him.

“On your knees,” he orders.

Rolling onto your stomach, you push yourself up onto your knees for him in the middle of the bed. Resting your head on your hands, you close your eyes and take in the way his hands grab your waist, pulling you back to him. The way his fingers sink into your flesh perfectly before they lovingly stroke your naked skin as he lines himself back up to your core.

“Fuck, you're still so wet,” he rasps, running the tip of his cock through your folds. “Are you sure you're okay for more?”

“Yes,” you say, wiggling your hips impatiently.

Pushing forward, you both moan when he enters you. With a hand on your upper back, he pushes the top half of your body down more, causing your back to really arch. His free hand back on your waist, he finally gives you what you need. Pistoning, in and out of you, your mouth drops open at how deep he manages to get inside of you.

“Holy shit!” He swears, bringing both hands down by your head, hovering over your back as his hips still smack away at your ass. “The moment I come inside of you, I'm not letting you go,” he warns, his warm breath fans across your cheek.

“I've been yours,” you choke out, body jostling. “I'm not going anywhere.”

“Y/N, doll, fuck,” he huffs and you reach to run your hand through his sweat soaked strands of hair as his slaps the overly sensitive area between your thighs causing you to sob out his name. His fingers expertly circle the slippery flesh, making you clench around his length. “I need to feel you come around me one more time. Please, doll. Can you do that for me? Can you let me feel that again?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant, with the side of your face pressed in your bed, your inner walls already starting to grip him rhythmically.

“Shit, shit, I….I…,” he doesn't finish his thought before pulling hastily out of you, almost ruining your euphoria. Tossing you on your back, he thrusts back into you hitting that sweet spot with every drag of his cock with exact precision causing you to see stars. Your back arches as high pitch whine escapes your throat. You'll be embarrassed about that later. You don't think you've made that noise before. “Look at me!”

Your eyes snap open, trying to focus on your handsome boyfriend, but you feel delirious. His nose comes down and nudges yours, trying to get you to focus on him. You watch as his jaw clenches and how he fights not to close his own eyes, but it is a losing fight. Dropping his head into the crook of your neck, he comes with a long gravelly groan. If you hadn't finished just a moment before, that definitely would have set you off.

As he fully collapses on top of you, pushing you further into the mattress, you wrap your arms around him. Letting your eyes close, you let yourself take in the moment of the afterglow. How safe and secure you felt after something so … intense and vulnerable. Taking a deep breath through your nose, you smile to yourself, rubbing your face across his shoulder. His wonderful warmth spreads over you.

“I love you,” you sigh.

How in the holy mother fucking shit did that slip out!?!

Yoongi's head snaps up to look at you in surprise. You stare wide-eyed up at the ceiling, frozen, unable to look at him. Where did that come from?

“What?” He asks, still looking lost in a haze. “I think I, um…. heard wrong.”

Looking at him, you can feel your heart pounding. Biting the inside of your cheek, you could blame getting caught up in the moment. You could lie and say that he must have been hearing things but dammit, his fucking warmth seeps into your bones. As much as you have tried to deny it, you know how you feel. You know what that warmth really is. It's his cooking for you, his comforting you, his caring for Nicky. It's the way that he always seems to know what you need, even when you don't know what you need. It's everything you've tried to run from.

“I love you,” you repeat, even softer than before.

“I love you, too,” he replies instantaneously before cupping your face with one of his hands. He presses his lips to yours. “I love you, too.”

“You're odd,” you laugh lightly.

“So you've said,” he laughs back. “Come on, we need a good shower before I take you out.”

“What?” You ask. “We can stay in …. sleep. Sleep is good.”

“Nope,” he disagrees, pulling out of you carefully. “We did things a little backward, but you deserve a date.”

“You really want to take me out? Now?” You ask, and he nods. “Fine, fine. What do you have in mind?”

He smiles like he just won some prize, and it makes you want to roll your eyes.

You need to stop giving in to him but … fuck.

He just gave you multiple orgasms.

He deserves it!

Plus, you know …. you love him.

You chuck the empty frozen drink cup you were drinking from in the trash can as you walk by it outside the door. Your other hand was held by Yoongi and was slightly swinging between the two of you walked down the hallway of the packed movie theater.

“Did you see those explosions?” He asks, looking down at you.

“Yeah, they went boom,” you say, and he lets go of your hand to wrap his arm around your shoulders.

“I'm sorry,” he says. “It was the only movie that hadn't started yet. There was a little romance, though.”

“Yeah, dude was married and had some weird emotional affair with that other chick. I laughed when she died,” you say with a smile causing him to laugh. “It's fine. I got to eat popcorn and candy.”

“No kidding,” he agrees. “You went after my candy, too.”

“Fuck off, you were not going to finish it,” you joke.

“Don't talk to the man you love like that,” he teases, leaning down to give you a quick kiss. Making it to the lobby, he parks you by a pillar and lets go of your hand. “I'm going to use the restroom. I'll be right back. Don't move.”

“Where am I going to go?” You ask, rolling your eyes. “You have the keys.”

“Just stay here,” he tells you as he turns and heads for the bathrooms.

Leaning against the pillar, you grab your phone from your bag and swipe through several unimportant notifications. You're going to have to remember to go through and get rid of a lot of useless crap on your phone. Rising your eyes, you scan the strangers around the area before going back to your phone, but unfortunately, that didn't happen. As your eyes sweep over a group of men at the counter, your blood runs cold as your grip on your phone tightens. Your gaze zeros in on one man in particular. One that looks all too familiar. One that comes straight out of your nightmares.

His hair is longer.

His beard is gone.

Fuck, you can't even be sure that it's him from this distance but he looks about the right height. He also has the same athletic build but you can't see his tattoos under the long sleeve shirt. Moving behind the pillar, you peek around and squint your eyes, hoping to get a better look.

“Turn around,” you say softly to yourself. “Come on, turn around.”

The group of men stand there talking, collecting their items, not noticing that they were being watched by you. The more you watch the one, the more you doubt that it's him, but what if it was? You think that his hair might be lighter than Jay's, but maybe … not? Jay might be a little taller, but it was too hard to tell.

The group moves to the drink station. It right there. In perfect eye shot. But his back was to you, but you knew. Everything inside of you knew. Watching with bated breath, he pushes his sleeve up his arm to reveal the tattoos hidden underneath, and suddenly, your hands start to shake.

You were there when he got the large pocket watch tattooed on his forearm, and there it was. The black and gray ink reading 9:05 the time his grandfather passed. It was right there. It still looks clean and crisp as if he just got it done.

It was him.

“What are you doing?” Yoongi asks

Turning from the pillar, you throw yourself at him. You hug him tightly while pushing him toward the exit.

“We need to go,” you say. “We need to go now!”

“What's wrong?” He asks, clearly picking up on your panic.

“Yoongi, we need to go,” you say again. “Please!”

“Okay,” grabbing your hand, the two of you quickly make your exit into the cold night air. You look over your shoulder a couple of times during the short walk to the car, hoping that he didn't come out of the building, hoping he didn't see you. As you get to Yoongi's car, you practically throw yourself at it, not giving him time to open the door for you as he normally does.

“Please hurry,” you tell him as he gets in.

“Will you tell me what's going on?” He asks, starting the car and driving away. “You're freaking me out again.”

Sitting back against the passenger seat, you take a deep breath and look out the window at the headlights from the passing cars driving by. You can't hold off any longer. You have to tell him, but you don't want to ruin this night.

It was supposed to be special.

“Not tonight,” you say, and he taps his thumb on the steering wheel. He's annoyed. You know it. You don't blame him. “Tomorrow, not tonight.”

“Promise?” He questions, moving his hand to lay it gently on your leg.

“I promise,” you nod. “Tomorrow. I'll tell you everything tomorrow.”

You feel like you're going to be sick.

You hope tomorrow never comes!

《Chapter 17》

Tagged Readers

@busanbby-jjk , @meelismee @jajabro , @wicked-game-black-butler

@wobblewobble882, @damn-u-min-yoongi @mintedagustd , @Granataepfelchen

@yoongiiuu93, @jimeg629 @jincapableoflove , @minghaosimp

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[jamieroyjamieroy]

Musing Monday

Tagged by the lovely @chococara25

Following on with my Tommy buys an engagement ring that off from this

Tommy desperately wants to check in with Evan, with anyone from the 118 really, to see how he is coping. If he needs a shoulder to cry on, a friend who knew Bobby and what’s been lost. He unlocks his phone for the hundredth time in the last 10 minutes, his thumbs automatically opening the long ago texts with Evan before he chickens out. Sighing and locking his phone like every other time. Evan has the 118 to lean on, they are a family. They are always there for each other. Evan in no way needs him. Tommy wants to throw his phone at the wall, he hates this useless feeling. It’s not in his nature to sit idly by. But what else can he do when Evan doesn’t need or want him. Tommy feels like the ring is mocking him from its hiding place. He is going to return that stupid circle of metal. Tomorrow though. It looks like it might rain today.

It’s not a phone call or a text the next time Tommy encounters Evan. It’s not a noisy bar and a night of passion. It’s a soft knock that comes, what feels like, seconds after Tommy falls asleep. His shift ran long, that damn earthquake just had to hit 20 minutes before shift ended, the calls were non stop and his body has been screaming for sleep but somehow he heard. Tommy heard that timid knocking deep in the depths of his slumber and just knew Evan was on the other side of that door before he opened it.

NP Tagging @racerchix21 @theotherbuckley @atevanfool @loulou-land @bidisasterevankinard @peppermintquartz @winterbuckwild

Tag list for people interested in this story

@leashybebes @loulou-land @wee-fuckin-woo @ceeceekayblog @hubcaphalo @racerchix21 @dashing-disaster @hcrm @monstream @cliophilyra @harmonic-intervention @eosfog-btsideblog @adian-ua @chococara25 @sherlockismarvelous9-1-1 @fenrirscarsback @betterthanfakemouthstatic @mrhappyjavaman @tommylovingho @bigsoftiejunkie @lissa612 @eliotwaughdeservesbetter @bidisasterevankinard @fuk-it-i-tried @tevantarlos @itsnourm @manifestingchaoticvibes @o0anapher0o @dashing-disaster @percyjackson-winchester @911coded

[slutty4jk]

KISS ME! | JJK › TEASER/PREVIEW

Summary: You and Jungkook have known each other your whole lives. Childhood best friends turned almost something more. He’s charming, popular, and scared of commitment. You’re ambitious, guarded, and tired of being a maybe.

After one kiss changes everything, you realize wanting him isn’t enough if he won’t choose you back. But walking away is easier said than done.

University brings distance, jealousy, and new people. You’re ready to move on. He’s finally starting to realize he can’t. Not when it’s always been you.

pairing: childhoodbestfriend!jungkook x (fem) reader

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, slow burn, childhood friends to lovers, kinda toxic but delicious, mutual pining, fluff & eventual smut

rating: 18+ (mdni!!)

warnings: emotional whiplash, jealousy, possessive behavior, fear of commitment, unresolved tension, mutual obsession, brief mentions of sex, hurt/comfort, pining, lots of yearning

A/N: WHEW! Here’s a teaser for my upcoming Jungkook fic and I’m sooo excited (and nervous lol). This little preview gives you a taste of what’s coming in Part One. It’s the only part getting a teaser btw, so enjoy it while it lasts 😭 I honestly don’t know if anyone will read this but if you do, let me know what you think!! – Ivy ₍^. .^₎⟆

please like, reblog and follow for more!! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

KISSME!MOODBOARD | KISSME!PLAYLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST ⭑.ᐟ

TEASER/PREVIEW FOR PART 1

(ONE YEAR AGO)

you hadn’t seen him in months. not really. not since the daily texts stopped. not since life started pulling you both in different directions.

you were the girl in the pressed uniform with a schedule full of deadlines and essays. he was the boy who showed up to class late, hair a mess, stories on his tongue like he lived in a different world entirely. and maybe he did.

so when jungkook invited you to a house party, it caught you off guard. you thought maybe it meant something. that maybe he missed you too.

you spent an hour getting ready, slipping into your pale pink dress, smoothing down your hair, hoping he’d notice. hoping he’d say something.

he didn’t. he barely even looked at you.

and when you found him later, it was with another girl already wrapped around him, her hands in his hair, his mouth on hers like they were the only two people in the room. it stung. more than you thought it would.

you stood alone by the drinks table, sipping a coke zero to drown the lump in your throat, pretending you didn’t care, even though your chest was burning.

you went outside for air. for silence. for space.

and then eunwoo showed up.

he was easy to talk to. a little cocky, a little too smooth, but kind in a way that didn’t feel fake. he asked your name. he noticed your shoes. he said you were pretty and didn’t laugh after.

and when he kissed you, you let him. maybe you wanted to feel wanted. maybe you just wanted to forget.

what you didn’t know was that there was a bet. that his friends were watching. that they had put cash down to see if he could get you to fall for it.

you didn’t know until jungkook stepped outside and saw it all. you didn’t see his fists clench. you didn’t see his jaw tighten. you didn’t know you were his until you weren’t anymore.

he told you to leave.

you fought him on it. angry, confused, hurt. you threw the same words back at him that had been stuck in your chest all night. you asked why he brought you if he never planned to talk to you.

he didn’t have an answer.

but then he kissed you.

and it was different. not gentle. not patient. just honest. like he’d finally remembered who you were, who you’d always been. like he hated himself for forgetting.

you kissed him back. you shouldn’t have, but you did.

and later, in the backseat of his car, you let him in for the first time. not just your body, but your heart. the part of you that had waited years for him to see you again.

and for one fragile moment, you thought maybe he did. maybe this time he’d stay.

KISS ME! Coming soon on July 5th. 💋

[hayleygrrr]

but it truly happened like this...

⁞based on the movie clue, the reader and the other slytherin boys are invited to nott manor, where dinner, mystery, and murder await.

characters; mrs. white!reader, wadsworth!theodore, scarlet!pansy, plum!mattheo, green!lorenzo, peacock!astoria, boddy!blaise

words;800

warnings;smut, oral (fem rec.), theo x female reader, semi public, death, weapons, not proofread

author's note; i'm soooo excited to write this!!! i wanted to do clue but with some smut mueheheeh... enjoy!!! also definitely want to write some more stuff with this au, perhaps darker smut. send requests! and if anyone wants it I can write some background info hehehe

you were an expert on men's bodies. their dead ones, of course, many 'missing' husbands will get you that.

but the blackmail that you have been paying for it has lead you to an... interesting situation. at nott manor.

the butler, who has introduced himself as theo, brings the group of you to the study. there are some interesting faces in the group, such as a professor, under the alias of plum. but alas, you musn't be fooled, you know their real names.

"as you may surmise, I have brought you all here to discuss the means of your blackmail." theo's voice is a deep, accented rumble that sends shivers down your spine. he can tell. "tonight, you will learn exactly how your host will eliminate your blackmail. until you are given instruction, you are free to roam the manor as you please. but beware, the dogs do bite."

a sudden locking sound of the main doors echoes through the hallway. "was that... locked?" the shrill voice belongs to peacock, who you identify as astoria greengrass. a daddy's money nepo baby, who is only successful through her dads position in government.

"yes, you are not to exit this house until there is an agreement. in the meantime, you may explore." theo explains one last time, before attempting to rush the group out of the door.

you find yourself in the billiard room, the green table laid out in front of you. some peace and quiet, finally. a rope lies on your hand, from dinner's surprise. each of you were given a weapon, a shock considering the circumstances.

while lost in your thoughts, theodore sneaks up behind you, grabbing your waist. "so you're among the crowd tonight?" his arms wrap around you, turning you toward him. he then lifts you up onto the table. "you look gorgeous, might i add." you look like a queen, his queen, he thinks as he places a chaste kiss on your hand.

"your charm wounds me." you watch him place the kiss, wishing it was elsewhere. "i told you i would assist you, so allow me to play the role. or would you like to end up like the others?" you add, referring to your past husbands.

he thinks for a moment, head slightly tilted to the side, his dark curls burst to the side, showing his eyes. and his striking suit, the one you picked out for him. he is a vision, something you'd wish to see before death, if it was ever swift.

merely a week before, you had agreed to help theodore. to act in his charade to arrest all of these government riddled people for murder and money. hiding his identity was the easy part. no one could know the manor was truly his, so playing the role of 'butler' would have to do.

"we're alone..." his hands trail up your thighs, feeling the soft, supple flesh. his lips go to your jaw, the feeling euphoric. "theo, this isn't-" "shhh, don't you make a sound."

your eyes follow him as he falls to his knees, at eye level with your arousal-soaked panties. he swiftly rids you of them, the cold air hitting your wet pussy only adding to the sensations. further down, you see the obvious bulge in his dress pants. and he is throbbing for you.

hands fly to his hair as theo licks a slow, agonizing stripe through your folds, teasing. "theodore aeacus no-" you start to tell him off for teasing, but he quickly shuts you up when his lips wrap around your clit and suck. the feeling has you squealing.

"be quiet..." he groans as he continues to work you, thrusting his tongue inside of you, his nose nudging your sensitive bud. he has you so close, almost there-

and he stops. before you can protest, he's standing, unzipping and ridding himself of his pants and undergarments, and stuffing himself inside of you. the upper half of your body falls against the billiard table with a thud, some of the balls rolling at the impact.

his hands find purchase under your knees as he bends you in half, thrusting with desperation. you whine and take your nails, sharp as claws, against his strong arms, trying to prevent yourself for screaming.

the table rocks with every thrust, the two of you staying uncharacteristically quiet to not disturb the others. your tits bounce enticingly, and it takes all of his might not to shove his face in them. but of course, he has no strong will and pushes his face against them, orgasming inside of you immediately. you soon reach your own, panting and trying your hardest to not squeal.

"you're next..." is whispered while you catch your breath below him.

"i'd like to see you try, my love."

tags; @sweetestfaiszts

click here to be added to the tag list!

[formulafanfics13]

The reader ends up having sex with Lando after a McLaren event. He leaves before sunrise because he thinks she'll wake up and kick him out. And she thinks he left because he just wanted sex, so she pretends nothing happened. And he goes CRAZY because she's ignoring him. He confronts her and they make up in a special way (🔥)

You Didn’t Stay - LN4 🔥

Masterlist

Summary: After a drunken hookup, Lando panics and leaves before sunrise — so she pretends it meant nothing. He loses his mind trying to fix it, eventually confronting her in the McLaren garage. It ends in furious, desperate sex against the wall, and this time, he stays.

Warnings: Angst, miscommunication, soft heartbreak, emotionally unhinged confrontation, public semi-risky sex, aggressive fingering and oral, wall sex, dirty talk, creampie implied, soft aftercare, possessive Lando, crying, pain-tinged resolution, and a lot of feelings barely disguised as hate.

It started at the McLaren party. The kind they threw after a sponsorship launch, all glowing orange lights and expensive tequila, PR reps pretending to be fun, engineers pretending to be drunk, and drivers pretending not to want to fuck. He hadn’t pretended, though.

He’d been watching her since the second she walked in, not even trying to hide it. Leaning against the bar with that stupid, cocky grin, fingers playing with the rim of his glass, head tilted just enough to let his jaw catch the light. And when she’d walked past him to grab her coat, only to have him catch her wrist and pull her in instead, she’d let him.

Because it wasn’t new. Not the tension, not the way he said her name like it tasted better than anything in his glass. Not the heat in his eyes when he pushed her back against the wall of the hotel hallway and kissed her like they hadn’t been circling each other for months. Like he was starving. Like she was fucking oxygen.

And she let him. Let him follow her back to the room McLaren had comped. Let him press her into the pillows and push her legs apart and whisper absolute filth against her lips. Let him see the parts of her no one else got to. Let him hear the soft sounds she never made for anyone else.

She didn’t let people in. But she let him. And he left. Before sunrise. Before she could even reach for him. No note. No text. No trace of him in the bed except the warm spot he’d left behind and the ache still pulsing between her thighs.

So when she saw him again the next day, she said nothing. Said nothing even when he hovered beside her in the paddock hospitality suite, asking if she wanted coffee.

Said nothing when he texted her later, something too casual - had fun last night, hope you’re okay xx - and she left it on read.

Said nothing when he passed her in the garage, eyes flicking to hers like he was waiting for a reaction. Like he expected her to do something.

She didn’t. Because what the fuck was she supposed to do?

He left. He got what he wanted. And she wasn’t about to be the girl who got attached to a night that clearly didn’t mean shit.

She wasn’t fucking stupid.

But Lando? Lando was losing his fucking mind. Because the thing is, he hadn’t left because he wanted to. He’d left because he was terrified she was going to wake up and tell him to go.

He hadn’t known how to stay. Hadn’t known what to do with the way she looked curled up in his arms, naked and soft and real in the glow of the pre-dawn light. He hadn’t known if she wanted him to stay.

So he panicked. Got dressed in the dark. Shut the door as quietly as he could and walked out like he hadn’t just had the best night of his fucking life.

And now she was icing him out like he was just another fuck. Just a body to use. And it was killing him.

He tried everything. Waited by the coffee machine in the McLaren suite until she walked in, just to ask her how she’d slept. Got her a VIP paddock wristband for Saturday, pretended it was from the team. He even had Oscar ask her if she was seeing anyone, hoping it would somehow fix the fracture he’d caused.

But she was distant. Polite. Cool. Completely unbothered. And it got to him. Twisted something feral in his chest.

By Sunday, he snapped. He waited until the garage was empty, everyone else off at media, or celebrating, or drinking, and he found her leaning against the wall near the back exit, phone in her hand, eyes glassy like she wasn’t even present.

He stalked toward her without thinking. “You’re really gonna pretend it didn’t happen?” His voice came low, sharp, cutting through the silence like a blade.

She blinked up at him slowly. “Didn’t what happen?”

He scoffed. “You’re not funny.”

“I’m not trying to be.” She shrugged, pushing off the wall, trying to step around him. “You left. End of story.”

“I left because I thought you’d want me to,” he snapped, blocking her path with his body. “Because you’re the one who doesn’t let people in. Because I thought if I stayed, you’d shove me out before I could even say goodbye.”

Her throat bobbed. “Bullshit.”

“I didn’t use you.”

“You didn’t have to. You just left.”

He stepped in closer. Too close. “You think I wanted to leave you there? That I liked walking away?”

“You did it.”

“I didn’t know what else to do!” He was practically vibrating now, chest heaving, hands clenched at his sides. “I woke up next to you and freaked the fuck out. I didn’t want it to end like that, but I thought you’d-fuck, I thought you’d laugh in my face if I said I wanted to stay.”

She stared at him, lips parted.

“I liked waking up next to you,” he whispered. “I wanted to do it again.”

And she didn’t even realise she was crying until his thumb brushed the tear from her cheek. His touch was gentle. Reverent. Nothing like the chaos he was radiating. “I missed you,” he said. Quiet now. Raw. “You’ve been right here, and I’ve missed you all fucking week.”

She swallowed hard. “I didn’t mean to ignore you.”

“Yes, you did.”

She nodded. “Okay. I did.”

“I don’t want this to be just that one night,” he said. “I don’t care how messy it is. I don’t care if you never say it back. But I’m not gonna stand here and let you pretend it meant nothing.”

She didn’t answer. Didn’t have the words. Not when his voice sounded like it was unraveling. So she kissed him instead. Hard. Desperate. Like she’d been holding back all week and couldn’t anymore. And Lando lost it.

He spun her back against the wall, hands flying to her face like he needed to feel all of her. Their mouths clashed in a tangle of heat and breath and teeth, and he groaned when she bit his lip, fingers twisting into the collar of his team shirt like she wanted to tear it off.

“You hate me,” he muttered against her mouth.

“No, I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I don’t,” she gasped as he pushed his thigh between hers, pressing into her in a way that made her knees buckle.

“I thought about you every fucking night this week,” he whispered, dragging his lips down her neck. “Thought about the way you moaned my name. Thought about the way your cunt clenched around my fingers like it was the only thing that ever made you feel good.”

She whimpered.

“Did you think about me, baby?”

“No,” she lied, breathless.

He grinned. “Liar.”

His hand slid beneath her waistband, and she arched into him with a gasp, thighs parting instinctively. “Soaked,” he murmured. “Fucking knew it. Bet you’ve been wet for days thinking about me.”

Her head fell back against the wall. “Lando-”

“I’m here now,” he whispered, curling his fingers just right, making her cry out. “You don’t have to pretend anymore.”

She was already coming apart in his hand, panting his name, nails digging into his arm like she needed him to anchor her to the fucking earth. And he didn’t stop. Not when she came, not when she begged. He dropped to his knees and pulled her jeans down in one brutal motion, licking into her like she was the only thing that had ever mattered.

He made her come twice against the wall of the McLaren garage before he even took his trousers off.

When he finally shoved into her, it was raw and angry and perfect. He held her up with one arm, hand fisting in her hair, mouth against her neck like he wanted to mark her from the inside out.

“You think I fuck like this when I don’t give a shit?” he growled, thrusting harder. “You think I leave when I don’t care?”

She cried out, thighs trembling.

“Say you missed me,” he hissed.

“I-”

“Say it.”

“I missed you,” she gasped. “I missed you, I missed you-”

He kissed her like a fucking promise. And this time, when they collapsed in bed later, bruised and breathless, he stayed.

He stayed until morning. Stayed when the sun came up. Stayed when she opened her eyes and looked at him like she couldn’t believe he was still there. “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered, voice hoarse, hand brushing her cheek.

She didn’t answer. But she didn’t make him leave, either. And that was enough.

[shonafee]

Here it is. My own attempt (translated by my beautiful wifey @cinnonym )

The Day Emma And Regina Went To The Bar For A Bit Of Context

Regina and Emma had woken up in their own beds this morning. That was relevant, because next to both their beds lay the exact same note: I know your secret. Come to the Rabbit Hole, 6 o’clock. The word Alone was only added to Emma’s note. Whoever had written the message knew the two of them well: Regina didn’t plan on bringing anyone.

Emma on the other hand traipsed through her flat and debated fervently if she should follow the demand or not. David was leaning against the kitchen counter, watching her closely.

“If you continue like that, you don’t have any steps left to walk to the bar,” he joked, but Emma only raised her eyebrows before she continued her path from the stairs back to the bed.

“What kind of secret would it even be?” David started another attempt. Emma had called him after going through her options. “Come alone” didn’t mean nobody could know about this. Therefore, nobody could blame her for telling her dad, she’d decided.

“I don’t know either. That’s exactly the problem.”

“Maybe it’s so secret that you don’t even know it yourself…”

“Dad!” Emma’s voice was reminiscent of an annoyed teenager’s.

“Just show up there and see what happens,” David proposed, but Emma vehemently shook her head.

“That would be stupid and irresponsible.”

-

At 6:01, Emma opened the door to the Rabbit Hole. It smelled musty and the room seemed foggy, but that wasn’t what caught Emma’s attention. The bar was completely deserted. She didn’t come here often, and the last time she’d been, Mary Margaret had punched a bunch of people, which was why Emma had avoided the place for a while. Besides, there was always some curse to keep her distracted.

Only at the second glance, Emma saw the silhouette at the bar. She would have liked to say that it was impossible to recognise the person, but even before her voice cut through the fog, Emma knew who was standing in front of her.

“Ms Swan.” Regina sounded surprised, as if she hadn’t expected Emma. Which was odd, considering she was the one who had asked Emma to come. Or wasn’t she?

“Madam Mayor.”

Regina looked a little too breathtaking in this light. Instead of brooding, she’d apparently used the time to make sure she looked fabulous. Emma wasn’t surprised.

“So?” she asked.

“So, what?”

“So, what do you know?” Emma specified, if not clarified.

“What do I know?”

“Well, you’ve ordered me here.”

“That I have not, Ms Swan.”

Usually it annoyed Emma when Regina addressed her like that. As if they hadn’t known each other for years. As if they hadn’t almost climbed each other against Granny’s back wall just a few weeks ago, as if they hadn’t stopped only when Pongo had startled them apart. Since then, Regina had avoided Emma, and vice versa. Was that the secret they were talking about? But why would Regina ask Emma here then?

“Who was it then?” Emma voiced the question that hung in the room. Just a few years ago she would have added a playful ‘Rumplestiltskin maybe?’, but Storybrooke had rid her of that habit very quickly, for obvious reasons.

“No idea, but whoever it was, they left this message for us.”

Both women’s eyes went to a note on the counter.

You can only uncover the secret - which I already know - together.

Emma’s eyes flicked to Regina’s lips, which curled in distaste. Lips that she would like to see do other things, lips that…

“Emma.”

Her head whipped around to Regina. Emma. She wished she didn’t know what it sounded like when Regina sighed that name while pressing her lips to Emma’s neck.

Inadvertently, her hand moved to that very place - a motion that didn’t escape Regina either.

“You don’t think someone has seen us?” she asked.

“Would that be so bad?”

The words were out before Emma could filter them. Regina raised an eyebrow.

“I’m just saying, it didn’t mean anything.”

Regina’s eyebrow rose higher.

“Except, of course, you want it to mean something.”

If Emma hadn’t been watching Regina’s eyebrows so closely, she might have missed Reina’s gaze going to her chin.

“Do I still have sauce somewhere?” Emma’s hand went to the corner of her mouth, but Regina intercepted it and pulled it closer to her. Sometimes, Emma forgot how short the brunette was. The heels and the attitude disguised it well, but now, standing this close to each other, Emma’s mouth was at the level of Regina’s nose.

“Sometimes I wonder how I didn’t notice you were a Charming right away.”

“You think I’m charming?”

“A Charming, Emma. You listen as badly as your mother and are as naive as your father.”

“What do you want to tell me with that?”

“You know, people always accuse me of not letting people in,” Regina ignored the question.

“So?” Emma had no idea what Regina was getting at.

“What’s your secret, Emma?” Regina asked bluntly. “Because I know what mine is.”

“What is yours?” Emma wanted to know, but Regina shook her head.

“We can only solve this together. And I have a feeling that your answer could be relevant to the solution.”

Emma felt like there was a clear difference in the level of information between them, and she didn’t like that it wasn’t in her favour.

“Just tell me.”

“Always so impatient,” Regina teased. Only now Emma realised how close they had gotten in the last minute. She had been so focused on the secret that she was almost overwhelmed with Regina’s scent now. Her dark eyes were watching Emma defiantly.

“Say it, Emma. Say what you’re thinking,” Regina became more demanding.

“I…”

“Say it.”

“I…”

“Say it!”

“I want to kiss you,” Emma burst out.

A smile stole onto Regina’s lips.

“That makes two of us.

-

Emma and Regina had woken up in the same bed this morning. That was relevant because they had unveiled their secret.

“Say it again,” Regina purred into Emma’s ear.

“No way.”

“Oh, come on. It’s just the two of us here, and unlike your mother I can keep a secret.”

“Fine… You’re the mightiest queen and most powerful sorceress in all the worlds.”

Regina grinned and pounced on Emma.

In the room next door, Henry grinned as well. Operation Bunny had been a success.

Crack Fanfic Idea:

Short chapters that are called after a specific pattern. For example:

The day Emma and Regina...

But instead of clever ideas you use autofil and see what's going to happen that day. You probably need help with different algorithms, but I think it could be so fun and silly.

[birdofwildness]

♱Stay.

♱Dark lord!Tom Riddle X death eater!reader

Sumarry::You told him you were done. You meant it—until he made you stay.

Warnings::18+,smut,manipulation,dark themes

The castle walls were cold, as always, but tonight they somehow felt even colder. The shadows stretched longer, the silence rang louder, and the Dark Mark on your arm almost burned. Not physically—you had long since grown used to that—but from within. As if it were warning you that any thought of leaving would not go unpunished.

There was a time when wearing it had felt like pride. Back then, you believed in what Tom said: a new world, power, order, chosenness. And of course… there was Him, too.

But that attention had long since turned into a prison.

The recent missions had become bloodier, more senseless. The screams no longer calmed your soul, and victory no longer felt like triumph.

The others didn’t notice. Most of them were too far gone, too deep into the cause. But one person had.

Bellatrix Lestrange had always seen too much.

For days now, she’d followed your every move like a shadow. She said nothing, did nothing—but her gaze felt like it wanted to crawl into your soul. And tonight, finally, the silence broke.

“You’ve been strange lately,” she said softly, as you sat in front of the fireplace, trying to block out the night’s memories. “Quieter. You drift off. And you don’t scream in battle anymore like you used to.”

You didn’t answer. Your fists clenched in your lap.

“You know,” she continued, her voice laced with that childlike mockery only she could wield so chillingly, “if I were you, I’d be grateful. The Dark Lord doesn’t look at just anyone the way he looks at you. But you... you're wasting it.”

You looked up at her. Her dark eyes glinted.

“I’m not you, Bella.”

“Oh, obviously. If I had the attention you do, I wouldn’t throw it away like some worthless trinket. Do you know what I’d give to be his favorite?”

You stood. Didn’t say a word. Just turned on your heel and walked down the hallway. Your footsteps echoed on the stone floor like an unspoken decision:

You wanted out.

You didn’t know how. You didn’t know how much time you had left. But one thing was certain—you no longer wanted to be a Death Eater.

The door clicked softly shut behind you, and at last… there was silence.

Your room was perhaps the only place in the manor that still felt somewhat yours. Dark wood paneling lined the walls, the fireplace now only held glowing embers, and the scent of burning candle wax hung in the air. Beyond the window, darkness sprawled—a world you understood less and less. A world you no longer wished to be part of.

You sat on the edge of the bed, and beneath your skin, under the Dark Mark, your flesh throbbed—like it could sense your thoughts.

“This isn’t the life I wanted,” you whispered to yourself, though you weren’t even sure who you were talking to. Maybe yourself. Maybe the old version of you that still believed in something.

Your thoughts wouldn’t stop spinning.

What had happened to you? What had happened between you and Tom?

You collapsed back onto your pillow, staring at the dark spots on the ceiling as moonlight spilled through the window. Memories swirled—broken fragments: a battle, a Killing Curse, a quiet smile from him, a burning house, a stolen moment in the hallway.

Strangely… none of them gave you answers. Only more questions.

Who are you without him? Without them?

And if you leave now... can anyone survive that? Would he let you?

Dawn was slowly breaking outside. You hadn’t slept a minute.

But by morning, you knew—this night had been the last.

...

The castle corridors were especially dangerous at this hour, under cover of night. Not because of the real dangers—though there were plenty of those—but because of what the silence brought to the surface. Thoughts. Doubts. The whispers in the walls, which could only truly be heard when you were alone, and quiet for too long.

As you approached Tom’s study, your footsteps nearly vanished against the cold smoothness of the stone floor. Every second, every step rang too clearly. As if the very air were trying to warn you that what you were about to do could not be done without consequence.

But there was no turning back. The decision—no matter how hard it had been—was already made within you. The only question now was whether you would still be alive by the time you left that room.

You didn’t knock. You paused just a second before the door, then pushed it open. The creak of the hinges felt like a wound, so harshly it broke the deathly silence of the corridor.

Inside, the room was bathed in warm light. The fireplace cast a golden-orange hue across the spines of old books on the walls, the maps scattered on the desk, the ornate dark furniture. And there he sat, as always—utterly in control of the space around him. He didn’t look up immediately, just slowly turned the wine glass in his hand, as though trying to see to the bottom of the red liquid.

Then he raised his head. His eyes met yours, and in that moment, you felt as though all your thoughts were laid bare before him.

“Y/N.”

Your name left his mouth as though he had known you were coming. There was no surprise in his voice. No anger, no joy—only something unsettling, a quiet anticipation.

You closed the door behind you softly. Every move was measured. You didn’t dare walk too quickly, but not too slowly either. You stopped in front of his desk, a few steps away. He didn’t move, just watched.

You broke the silence. You didn’t try to be polite, or indirect.

“We need to talk.”

Tom’s eyes closed briefly, then focused on you again. His face remained emotionless. But you had long since learned: his silences were more dangerous than any scream.

“Speak,” he said, his voice soft, almost soothing—but with something hidden beneath it.

“I don’t want to do this anymore. I want out.”

The words you’d run through your mind a thousand times were finally spoken. Bare. Irrevocable.

Tom didn’t answer immediately. The wine glass in his hand remained still. His other hand—almost casually—rested near the edge of the desk, close to his wand. He didn’t reach for it, but you knew he could, at any second.

At last, he spoke. Quietly. Firmly.

“No.”

That was it. One word. A final verdict. As if there was nothing to discuss.

But you didn’t bow to him.

“This wasn’t a request. I didn’t come to ask. I came to tell you.”

Tom slowly stood. There was something unsettling in the grace of it. Like a predator moving toward its prey—not with the intent to pounce, but to observe. To circle.

“Everything you are today... I made you.” His voice was no longer calm. Not raised—but colder. “You wear my name. My mark burns your skin. You fear who I tell you to fear. I gave you strength, knowledge, opportunity. And now you think you can just walk away?”

“Not just. But yes. I’m leaving.”

Tom stopped in front of you. Too close. You could smell the wine and smoke on his clothes. His gaze didn’t leave yours. His eyes were deep—unsettlingly focused.

“You killed in my name. Your blood stains everything you touch.”

“And you asked it of me. You taught me how.”

A long silence.

“You lay in my bed.” His voice was a whisper. “You touched my skin. You whispered my name in your sleep.”

The air between you tightened. You took a slow, deep breath.

“And not for a moment did I believe it was anything more than what it was.”

The power behind his words rippled. You saw it flash in his eyes—not pain. He didn’t know pain the way others did. This was possession. The threat of losing what he believed was his. And in his world, what was his had to remain his. Forever.

“You’re lying.”

“Maybe. But at least I’m not lying to myself anymore.”

You began to step back, slowly, not rushing. Your hand closed around the doorknob. But before you could turn it, he was there. So fast, so silent—it was as though he had always been standing behind you. His presence wrapped around you, though he didn’t touch you. Still, you felt it: he would not let go easily.

His voice barely grazed your skin as he leaned in.

“If you walk out that door, Y/N… I won’t kill you. Not right away.

And when you’re on your knees, begging to be let back in… I’ll be there. And I’ll remember.”

You pressed the handle down.

“Then remember this too: I was the only one who dared to leave.”

The lock clicked. The air shifted. And you stepped out.

...

The room was cold when you returned. You didn’t light the fire. You didn’t want light. You didn’t want to see anything you were about to leave behind.

Your coat slipped to the floor, but you didn’t bend to pick it up. It was too heavy. Everything had suddenly become too heavy. You sat on the edge of the bed and stared into nothing—the shadows cast by the moon on the wall. As if you still couldn’t decide whether this was the moment you started living... or the moment something in you finally died.

Minutes passed. Or hours. You didn’t know. Time had unraveled.

And then you felt it.

No footsteps. No opening door. And yet… you knew he was there.

The air thickened. Heavier. As if the room itself was holding its breath.

You didn’t need to turn around—but you did.

He stood in the doorway. Said nothing. Didn’t ask to come in—he never asked. He stepped closer, soundless, and stopped before you.

His eyes were dark as the night. His gaze didn’t accuse, didn’t plead. It just watched. As he always had—like he knew exactly where to reach inside you to break you apart again.

“I won’t beg you to stay,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. Yet it echoed inside you. “But I won’t let you go either.”

You didn’t answer. Your heartbeat was too loud. Too… alive.

He stepped forward. Then again. Until he knelt before you. His hand moved—slowly at first, then with purpose. He lifted your chin, forcing you to look into those eyes that once enchanted you.

“You know what you said in there wasn’t true.” His eyes flicked briefly to your lips. “Because if it were… you wouldn’t be looking at me like that.”

“How am I looking at you?” you asked quietly. There was no real resistance in your voice. Only exhaustion. Longing.

“You said you never believed it was more,” he murmured. “But you lied. You’re lying now.”

His thumb brushed over your lower lip, slow and precise. You should have pulled away but you didn’t.

His mouth was on yours before the silence could stretch too far. Possessive. Demanding. Not a kiss to convince — a kiss to claim. And gods help you, you let it happen. You kissed him back, your hands fisting in the fabric of his robes as he stepped between your knees and pulled you flush against him.

Your breath hitched as he pushed you gently back onto the bed, his body settling over yours with impossible control. Every inch of him was deliberate — a predator’s grace, a lover’s precision.

“You wanted to walk away,” he said against your throat, teeth grazing your skin. “You wanted to forget. But you can’t, can you?”

“No,” you breathed, the word slipping out before you could stop it.

His hand slid down your side, slow, mapping your curves like a familiar path. He tugged at the fabric of your shirt — not impatiently, but with purpose. You arched into him as he bared your skin, his mouth trailing fire in its wake.

“You’re mine,” he said, voice dark with something almost reverent. “You always have been.”

You should have resisted. You should have fought the way his touch made your body melt, the way his voice broke something open in your chest. But you didn't. Because part of you — the part he built, the part he owned — still wanted to be wanted by him.

Still wanted him.

He didn’t ask permission when he undressed you, piece by piece, like unwrapping something precious. And when he slid into you — slow, deep, unforgiving — it wasn’t just possession. It was punishment. Worship. A reminder of everything you said you wanted to forget.

Your nails raked down his back. His lips found the hollow beneath your ear.

“You could never leave me.” he whispered.

You gasped as he thrust deeper, your body trembling around him, your mind a blur of memory and heat and need.

“Say it,” he growled. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m—” you choked, your voice breaking on the edge of release. “I’m yours.”

He swallowed the sound of your climax with his mouth, thrusts growing erratic until he followed, burying himself in you like he never meant to leave.

You were still beneath him, chest flushed, skin damp, breath catching in small, silent gasps.

The room fell into heavy silence. He didn’t move right away. Just hovered over you, eyes open, studying your face.

Then, his hand came up slowly, brushing a damp strand of hair from your cheek. "You have to understand that I need you to stay"

You kissed him then — not like a follower, not like someone breaking again for him. But like someone falling, willingly. For the boy, the man, the monster — all of him.

When he sank back down beside you, arm around your waist, you let him hold you. For the first time in forever, you felt something terrifying in his touch:

Peace.

[moody-alcoholic]

Cross My Heart

Chapter 5 - Not So Safe Safe House

Summary: poly141 x reader. Enemies to lovers. WC: 6.3k Original abridged version HERE

CW: death, descriptions of injuries, alcohol, suicide bomber, war, terrorisom.

Previous - masterlist - next AO3

Enjoy <3

You’re thrown off your feet. The fire coming off the smoldering car is hot making you shield your face, the smoke makes you cough as you pull yourself up. You look around, you see Soap pulling himself off the ground, you go over to help him. He grunts in pain, there’s a throbbing in your side now. You don’t have time to worry about it.

“Are you okay?” You ask as he straightens himself up, his hand goes to the top of his arm. You can see burnt fabric. Shit, you can see the red flesh. 

“Soap!” You hear someone shout. You don’t have time to do anything about his arm here.

“Over here!” You call back and pull him to where you heard the shouting from. You spot Gaz coming towards you. 

“You okay?” He asks. 

“Yeah, Soap got burnt.” You say, you look back at him. 

“Don’t touch it!” You snap, swatting his hand away.

“It fucking hurts like a bitch.” He says through gritted teeth, you throw his good arm over your shoulder letting him lean on you.

“Yeah it will.” You look over at Gaz who’s talking into his radio trying to get in contact with Price or Ghost. You can’t hear anything in your ear, just the ringing from the explosion and static.

“They were right next to us, they can’t be far.” Gaz flashes you a look of concern, what if they’re hurt? You’re not really in the mood to play medic again, especially with burns. The smell of burnt flesh always turns your stomach.

“Let's check this way.” Gaz says. You nod and go to follow him when shots ring out. You can’t see anything past the truck fire. You all immediately turn and head back towards the tree line you came from. You throw Johnny behind a tree before dropping to the ground. You hear shots hit trees but you can’t see anyone. 

“What do we do?” You shout, turning to look at Soap taking cover behind another tree. 

“Gaz!” You hear someone in your ear. It’s Price you think. 

“Cap! Where are you?” He asks back. The shooting dies down, maybe they’ve run out of bullets, maybe they’re just reloading. 

“On the other side of the truck. I’m with Ghost. Head to the safehouse, we’ll meet you there.” Price says. You’re trying to see where the shots are coming from if they’re on the other side of the clearing. It has to be from the access road. You can’t see anything though, wherever it is it’s clear you can’t stay here.

“C’mon let's move.” Gaz says, you nod getting up and help Soap get his balance before following Gaz deeper into the forest.

…

It feels strange being back here. In the safehouse they found you in. You got there before Ghost and Price. Gaz said he would keep watch while you checked out Soap’s burn, the place hasn’t been restocked since you were here last and they’d already used most of the stored supplies on Price. 

“What’s the prognosis doc?” Soap asks as he sits shirtless on the bloodstained sofa. You took your heavy vest off too, you’re sat next to him with some tweezers and wet cloth’s. You need to pick out as much of the debris and chard fabric stuck in the wound. 

“It's not too serious. Lucky.” You say, it’s not as deep as you thought it was, not as large either. You can’t remember the system for classifying burns, you just need to get it wrapped up and keep an eye on him, shock is common with burns, that you do remember. 

“Stings like crazy.” he says gritting his teeth as you pull another piece of fabric off.

“Yeah, it will, burns are the worst.” You dab the red flesh with the wet cloth, you can almost see the relief in his face, it doesn’t last long, before he’s back to gritting his teeth.

“What do you think happened?” You ask him, looking up at Gaz who’s been looking out the window since you got here. 

“Don’t know, someone wants us dead though. My guess, Konni or Al-Qatala.” He says, great , so they have no idea other than the obvious. 

“Did you find out where Makarov is?”

“Yeah, he’s in Russia with Jamal and Khaled, some place called Volgograd.” You explain as you finish cleaning the last of the burn. You reach over to pick up the aluminium foil.

“What are we going to do now? Cook my arm?” He asks, smiling.

“It’ll keep the wound contained, traps fluid which helps with the healing process. I’ll wrap it in bandages. It’s all we have for now, no burn cream unfortunately.” 

“They’re here.” You both turn to look at Gaz opening the front door. Price and Ghost walk in. 

“What happened?” Ghost asks as soon as he sees Soap.                                                                                                                    

“He got burnt.” 

“We’re marinating my arm for when we run out of food.” Soap says as you wrap the foil round him. You tut shaking your head and look over at Price who has his hand on Gaz’s shoulder. 

“What happened?” You ask looking up at Ghost, maybe they have more answers. 

“Don’t know.” He says. Great, no one knows anything and now we’re trapped in a safehouse. 

“Are we going to go back to Farah?” You ask as you switch to wrapping bandages round Johnny’s arm. 

“No.” Price says coming over. “Not until we know who’s after us.” 

“It’s more likely to be Al-Qatala than Konni.” Ghost says.

“What makes you think that?” Gaz asks. 

“The base was abandoned, Ivan sent everyone home, important people probably left with Makarov. The missiles were fired from within Urzikstan, Al-Qatala fired them.” Price says. 

“Great so we’re back where we started?” Gaz says. 

“Not necessarily, we know where they are. We just need to get there.” Price says.

“You want to go to Russia?” Soap asks. 

“It’s that or we wait for them to come to us. Farah will have her own problems pushing back the Al-Qatala attack on the missile targets. We can use that to our advantage to sneak over the border.” Price says. 

“Sounds easy.” You say sarcastically. To your surprise Price smiles. “It’s never easy.” You sigh looking down at Soap’s arm. It’s the best you can do for now.

“Are you okay?” Price asks, you look up at him frowning. He nods down at you, you look where his eyes land. Shit, your wound is bleeding through your shirt. 

“Yeah, I probably pulled some stitches.” You say getting up. You pick up the first aid box you’ve been using. 

“I’ll go get cleaned up. One of you should keep an eye on Soap, he could still go into shock.” You say as you head for the stairs.

“Come hold my hand Ghost. I might fade away.” Soap says half-serious. You smile as you head for the stairs. 

“Need a hand?” Gaz calls.

You don’t even brother turning to look back at him, “No, I'll be fine.” 

You turn into the bathroom, it’s barely a bathroom, the bathtub looks like it’s seen better days and like the rest of the place there’s a thick layer of dust on everything. You rest the first aid kit on the sink and look through it for what you think you could use. You pull your shirt off, when you stretch your arms you feel your skin tugging on the stitches. You can feel the pain relief wearing off too.

When you look down at the damage you think maybe you could have used a hand. You don’t exactly have a suture kit to fix the pulled stitches. Not that you think you could grit your teeth through the pain like Price did. You have to settle for using way too many steri-strips and bandages. It’ll hold, at least for a while. If you’re going to be moving up into Russia, you’re going to have to bring enough supplies to keep on top of your wound changes and Soap. 

“Hey.” The voice makes you jump, you look up to see Soap standing in the doorway. “You good?” 

“Yeah, I'll be fine, what about you? Feeling okay?” You don’t have time to be embarrassed about sitting in front of him topless, you’re too focused on finishing off bandaging the wound. 

“Tired.” He says coming into the room. You pull your top back over your head. 

“Did you need to use it?” You ask to get up off the toilet. He shakes his head. “I’m finished anyway.” You say closing the first aid box back up. 

“I’m good, I wanted to talk.” You frown, looking up at him. You feel nervous all of a sudden. Soap looks behind him and closes the door. Now you really feel nervous. 

“What about?” You ask, trying to keep your cool. He takes another step towards you, your heart is thumping in your chest. 

“You could have betrayed us so many times, why didn't you?” He asks, you swallow the nerves, for some reason your mind is drawing a blank. 

“I don’t know. I guess I trusted you guys.” You say. Maybe this is a test, maybe they still think you’ll betray them. You can’t really blame them, you were the enemy. 

“Why did you pick us? Would have been easier to side with the ULF.” 

“Al-Qatala and the ULF, they’re both as bad as each other. You guys, you have a goal, you’re not affiliated with any one person. You know what you need to do and you do it well. I guess I wouldn’t mind working for someone like that.” You don’t know what he’s looking for. “I would rather be on the front lines than stuck in a war room watching.” 

“You’re a doer.” 

“Sure.” You say your mouth suddenly feels dry. He smiles at you. You look up at him, he’s moved closer while you’ve been talking, you’re finally getting a better look at him. He’s handsome, well they all are. Ghost you don’t know he always has his mask on. You’ll need to ask him about that at some point. 

Soap has deep blue eyes, they complement him, his hair is always perfectly messy, like all he needs to do in a morning is run his hands through it. 

“Are you sure you’re okay? You look a little peachy.” Soap says. You nod.

“Yeah, all good. It’s hot in here.” You say. It’s a lie, it’s the closest you’ve been to them, any of them. There’s a twinkle in his eye, a cheeky grin on his face. You’re blushing, and he can see it. One of his hands runs up your arm, the other lands on your waist. 

“Soap.” You say, this is definitely not appropriate, but you’re not stopping him. You don’t want to.

“Johnny, please.” He says, you can feel his breath on your face as his hand moves up your shoulder to your neck then your face. You swallow hard and your mouth tips open.

“This is definitely not appropriate.” You breathe, you don’t care, your hands reach out for his waist.

“Definitely. Can’t stop thinking about you though.” He says, you smile, your heart is hammering in your chest. You grip his hips pulling him towards you and as you do he reaches down to kiss you. 

It shocks you at first, it feels like he’s sucking all the air out your lungs as he pushes his tongue past your lips. You close your eyes, wrapping your arms around him. You forget where you are and who he is as you play with his tongue.  

Before you can really relax into the kiss there's a banging on the bathroom door. 

“Soap.” Ghost calls. He breaks from the kiss and you clamp your hands over your mouth. His hand drops from your face and he turns his head.

“Yeah?”

“Hurry up, Price’s waiting.” 

“Christ, can’t a man take a piss in peace.” Johnny calls. You hear Ghost leaving and Johnny turns back to look at you. You slowly drop your hands, his thumb comes up to brush your lips. He hums, his eyes scanning round your face. 

“Sweet as sugar you are.” He says, dropping his hand. He turns to leave, opening the door. “Don’t wait too long, or you’ll miss the fun.” 

You don’t know what to say, you just nod and sit back down on the toilet seat. You swallow the unbelievable amount of saliva that’s built up in your mouth.

Holy shit, you kissed Johnny, and you liked it.

…

You make it back downstairs, your heart still thumping in your chest. You can still taste him on your lips. You can’t believe he kissed you, you can’t believe you kissed him back. It was a good kiss, one that you could sink into and forget your worries. You look over at him sat on the sofa next to Gaz. 

You can feel heat rushing to your cheeks. Price is stood with his arms crossed, in the center of the room. You’re not sure where Ghost is, probably in the kitchen.

“Okay, let's get started.” Price says as you go over to sit down on a chair. 

“We know where Makarov is, Konni is splintered and Al-Qatala are focusing their resources on creating a new border. Now is a better time than any to move in.” You hear Ghost come out of the kitchen, you watch him stand behind the sofa. John turns to look at you.

“You and Soap are going to go back to Farah, give them then intel we have-”

“Like fuck. There’s no way I'm going back while you push into Russia.” Johnny says protesting. 

“You’re both injured, and we need someone to tell Farah what’s going on.” Price says.

“No way. I want to stay.” You say. Price sighs pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“It’s not a request. We don’t even know if they’re still going to be in Volgograd.” Price says. You lean forward in the chair shaking your head, you look over at Johnny he looks just as pissed. 

“If we find him you can fly out, meet us there but you need proper medical treatment.” Price says.

“I’m fine.” Johnny says standing up. Price takes a step forward opening his mouth. Whatever he was going to say is halted by a knock at the front door. 

No one moves for a second, silent glances are shared. It’s like no one wants to believe what they just heard. You let out a slow breath, the pain in your side is suddenly forgotten about. You shift your weight and there is another knock. 

Everyone silently moves into positions, they look between each other, moving in near silence. There’s hand signals you’ve seen people use before but you don’t know what any of them mean. Soap grabs your arm pulling you over to the sofa, you turn frowning at him as there’s another knock at the door.

“Hello? I was told to come here. I could really use some help.” A voice calls in Arabic. Price turns to look at you.

“They’re asking for help.” You say, your heart is thumping in your chest. They sound young, you feel sick. Price and Ghost stack up on the door. When it opens there's a boy standing there, he’s older than a boy, a teen maybe 17, 18. He has an Al-Qatala headband on. He’s holding his hands up.

Price reaches forward, gripping his arm and pulling him in. Ghost closes the door then lets go of his weapon letting it swing down next to him. His hands run up and down his legs. His eyes are locked on to you, you feel guilt. Maybe you smuggled this guy for Al-Qatala, maybe he knows you, you don’t remember everyone.

You doubt it. It doesn’t take long before Ghost’s hands stop. He pulls the coat on the person open. Your breath catches in your throat, you gasp. He’s got a bomb vest on. Ghost backs up.

“Christ.” Soap’s voice is almost angry as he walks past you over to man. You don’t know what to do or what to say. Al-Qatala do this, you’ve never seen someone with one on before. You’ve seen them on tables, you’ve smuggled C4 and over explosives for Al-Qatala before. You could have been directly responsible for this, there’s always such a disconnect when you’re just handing things over. None of it ever feels read. 

This is real though, now you’re seeing it in person.

“What’s going to happen?” he asks, he sounds scared. You swallow the lump forming in your throat.

“You’re the one with the bomb.” You reply. It’s all you can think to say. Price comes to stand next to you.

“What’s he saying?”

“He wants to know what’s going to happen.” You say looking up at him.

“Soap?” Price calls.

“It’s on a timer, it’s not pretty but it shouldn’t be too hard.” He says he sounds confident. Gaz moves over to help him. You feel sick, you’ve helped cause this. He looks young, he probably had no idea what he was signing up for, just like most of the people Al-Qatala or the ULF recruit.

“Who sent you?” You ask him. It’s a stupid question but you don’t care, talking keeps you calm, it’ll probably keep him calm too.

“The Butcher. He said it was my time.”

“I thought he was in Russia?” You say, he doesn’t say anything. You take another step towards him trying not to spook him.

“Did you blow up the car?”

“The ULF are traitors!” he snaps, putting his arms down.

“Woah woah, eazy.” Soap says as he and Gaz stand back, your eyes flick over to Ghost who still has his weapon trained on him.

“Tell him to keep still.” Price says.

“Keep still or they’ll shoot you.” You say to him. He stops moving, turning to look at Ghost.

“Good then I will take you all with me.”

“We’re not ULF.” You snap at him. He looks back over at you frowning.

“You blew up the base, you’re in a ULF safehouse.”

“This is a ULF safehouse?” You ask, trying to play dumb. He doesn’t say anything, his hands come black up as Soap and Gaz approach him again.

“The ULF killed my father and my brother.” He says, you sigh sympathetically.

“Mine too.” You say. There, that's how they do it. When you’re young and vulnerable looking for someone to blame. You tried to run and leave the country you called home all your life. Some people, the unlucky ones end up like him, scared, following orders they probably don’t even agree with. All they need is the promise of a better afterlife, one where they don’t have to worry about war, the loss of their family, everything is better in Jannah.

In another world you might have ended up like him. Married off to an Al-Qatala general helping the cause to take down the people you blame for both your parents death. Maybe it was a good thing you were too scared to stay, war scared you as much as the next person. You weren’t exactly willing to die for a country being torn apart by terrorists.

“What’s going on?” Price asks, leaning in closer to you.

“He was sent by Al-Qatala, he thinks we’re ULF. They killed his father. He planted the bomb on the car.” You explain, you feel sorry for him, he thinks killing you is going to bring him and his father peace. That couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Alone?” Price asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Are you alone?” You ask him.

“No.” He says, that makes your stomach drop. He’s being watched, someone making sure he completes the job. Making sure there are no loose ends, or he could be lying. You hope he’s lying.

“He’s not alone.” You say. You hear Price sigh. You take another step towards him watching Soap and Gaz mutter cutting wires.

“How old are you?”

“17.”

“You look older for your age.” You say, you see a little smile form on his lips.

“I was the tallest boy in my village.” He says.

“I bet you were.” You smile back. Keep him calm, let Soap and Gaz work and everything will be fine. Innocent blood doesn’t have to be spiled today. 

“Shit.” Soap’s voice cutting through the air makes you stop. He stands up straight looking at the boy before walking over to you and Price.

“I can’t stop it. If I cut anymore it could go off.” Soap says, he looks serious, his face dark, eyes sullen. It’s the first time you’ve seen him like this. Price lets out a long sigh.

“Can’t we just take it off him?” You ask.

“It’s hardwired into the clips, pull them and it’ll go off.” Soap says.

“What do we do then?” You ask, you know you’re not going to like the answer.

“I managed to disconnect the shrapnel, when it goes it’ll be contained.” Soap says. When, When it goes. It makes you feel sick. You look back over at him.

“There has to be something you can do?” You ask urgently. You can feel your heart pick up speed.

“We can make sure we survive.” Price says. “How long do we have?”

“Five minutes,” Soap says. You look up at him shaking your head, you can’t believe what you’re hearing. You can’t believe you kissed him.

“What do I tell him?” You ask Price as Soap goes over to Ghost.

“Tell him he’s going to be okay.” Price says darkly. You look at the boy, he’s frowning watching Soap and Ghost talk.

“He’s just a kid.” You whisper, you don’t mean for Price to hear you just hate it. You hate what’s happening right now.

“They always are.” He breathes, crossing his arms.

“Are you sure they know what they’re doing?” He asks.

“Of course, they’re experts.” You say, you force a smile. He nods the frown leaving his face. You can’t see the timer from here. Soap said 5 minutes, you’re trying to count in your head.

“Where are you from?” You ask him, you need to keep him distracted. 

“Sakhra. What about you?” He asks.

“A little town in the south, it was destroyed when the fighting started.” You say swallowing the tears back. You need to keep your cool. You watch as Ghost moves ever so slightly, his weapon dipped in his arms. Soap opens the front door.

“What’s going on?” He asks, suddenly straightening up.

“Nothing, it’s going to be okay.” You lie, why does lying come so easily even now? You’re not sure how long is left, you stopped trying to count. Soap and Ghost move, getting into position to pull him out the door and leave him out there until the inevitable happens.

It’s cold and calculated, self preservation. He would be dead anyway, at least this way only he will get hurt. You hope there's an afterlife, Jannah or heaven, even just some kind of limbo, you hope he can see his father again.

You see Soap nod. It happens fast. Gaz steps out the way and Soap grabs him from behind. You don’t mean for a yelp to leave your throat as his screams breaks the silence in the air. You feel Price grab your arm pulling you across the room and into the kitchen. You stumble letting him push you behind a wall, Gaz joins you next.

You can hear him shouting, shouting for help, banging on the door that has been locked in his face.

Soap and Ghost come round the corner next. There’s a few seconds of silence then an explosion. It shakes the house, the smell of gunpowder and sulfur fills the air. Everyone walks out the kitchen. You take a second to collect yourself. Price letting go of his tight grip on your arm.

When you make it out the front door has been blown open and the window smashed in. There’s surprisingly still a body, you can’t look at it for too long.

You feel ill, he was just a kid, 17 years old. You never even asked his name. 

You turn, going back inside the house. Someone’s hand lands on your shoulder. 

“You did well.” It's John. 

“He was just a kid.” You say. He sighs, squeezing your shoulder.

“Get some rest, we’ll deal with this.” He says, dropping his hand. You feel like you should help, it’s the least you should do but you don’t the smell of burnt flesh hits the back of your throat and before you know it you’re heading up the stairs. 

You’re laid in the same bed Soap found you in, you stare up at the ceiling, there used to be paint but it’s all chipped away. Soap came up and offered you something to eat, it surprised you, you didn’t have the stomach to eat after what happened. He stays and talks with you though while he munches on a protein bar. He explains that Ghost and Gaz cleaned up the body, putting it in the shed. Price promised the ULF would come by and deal with it. You didn’t believe him.

Price and Soap did a sweep of the area he’s convinced if there was anyone watching they’re gone. Regardless, Price still said someone should be on guard just in case. He hasn’t talked about his plan to go to Russia again, he just ordered everyone to get some rest.

“We’ll be leaving early tomorrow.” He says squeezing your leg and getting up. You hum, yawn and turn over in bed. 

“Sleep tight.” He says leaving and closing the door behind him.

You can’t sleep though, your mind is plagued, you can’t get his shouting out of your head. They just threw him out in the cold to die. He must have been terrified. Maybe this was a bad idea, maybe you’re not built for this type of job. Soldiers kill people, so do the ULF and Al-Qatala, maybe you wouldn't mind being stuck in a war room right now. It’s easier to hear about these things then witness them first hand.

You get out of bed, you can’t sleep. You might as well see if Price is still awake, maybe he’ll let you keep watch and then he can get some rest. Besides, he probably sleeps better after these kind of things than you.

When you make it out into the hall every door but the bathroom is closed, you can hear snoring coming through one of them. At least someone is sleeping. You make it down the stairs and see Price leaning back on the sofa with a bottle of something on the table and a half filled glass. He doesn’t have a hat on, he’s almost always wearing one. He watches you walk and sit next to him on the sofa.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asks. You lean back, nodding. “Want one?” He asks leaning forward to pick up his glass.

“I don’t drink.” You say, he hums finishing his glass and putting it back down on the table.

“You should get some sleep. I can keep watch.” You say pulling your legs up onto the sofa.

“It’s okay, we’ll be leaving in a few hours anyway. You look over at the window Soap board up with some wood you found out back. There’s a chill in the building now.

“Do you still plan on going to Russia?” You ask. He nods.

“We have intel Jamal and Khaled are still in Volgograd.”

“How?” You ask frowning.

“CIA contact, they were able to do some snooping for us.”

“What about Al-Qatala?”

“They’re still moving south, it looks like they’re going to be targeting ULF bases, Farah and Alex will have their hands full.” Price says as he reaches over to refill his glass.

“How did they know we were going to attack the base, they blew the car and sent a suicide bomber after us.” You say. He sighs again bringing the glass to his lips.

“Konni has more info than we think. Makarov is normally smarter, this isn’t like him.”

“What do you mean?” You ask.

“Sending Al-Qatala after us, something’s changed. Why Al-Qatala and not Konni? Why not people he trusts? He’s desperate.” He says sounds like he’s talking to himself a stream of unbroken thoughts, you almost don’t want to interrupt him.

“Or maybe he just really wants you dead.” You sigh.

“Then he would have done a better job.” He looks over at you.

“You did good today.” He says, you shake your head looking away.

“I wish we could have saved him.”

“We can’t save everyone.” He finishes his drink off, putting the glass back on the table. “A Lot of the time it's us or them, we don’t always have the luxury of a choice.”

“So I guess you still want me and Soap to go back to Farah tomorrow.” You ask changing the subject. He nods. “We’ll be in contact, let you know when you should come up.”

You don't say anything, turning away and looking back over at the stairs, you’re not in the mood to fight with him.

“If you’re still willing to work with us?” He asks, you turn back to look at him. He's got blue eyes like Soap, his look darker, the circles under them deeper. You nod, he smiles, his hand comes to lay on your thigh. You freeze at the contact, his hand is warm, he squeezes it then gets up.

“You should try and get some rest, you have a long trip tomorrow.”

“So do you.” You say swallowing the saliva that’s built up in your mouth. You can feel heat rushing to your cheeks, he smiles at you then heads into the kitchen. You close your eyes, squeezing the bridge of your nose. You’re emotional, you’ve had a long day. 

There’s no way you’re crushing on Price too.

He’s right less than an hour later before the sun is coming up people are getting up. You help them pack, Johnny is mysteriously absent though. Ghost said he was still sleeping and he didn’t want to bother him. Price leaves you with a list of instructions and enough ammo he thinks you and Soap might need. 

They’re ready to leave in less than half an hour. It’s all a well practiced routine, that's the military in them. Their plan was to get over the border then commandeer a car or something. Price said it could be a few days before you hear from them but they will send word. 

Soap sulked down the stairs an hour or so later, when the sun was just peaking through the clouds. You can’t wait to leave here and never come back. The whole blood soaked place can burn to the ground for all you care.

“They left already.” You say as he comes to sit on the sofa next to you.

“I know. Si- Ghost came to say bye.” He shuffles on the couch rubbing his burnt arm. You’ll need to change the dressing before you leave. “We should get going soon. We need to get a car. It’s easier to do while it’s still dark out.” 

You follow Soap’s orders in silence, the lack of sleep is finally catching up with you. You change the dressing as Soap grits his teeth complaining about itching. You have no idea if it’s healing or if it's still supposed to look the way it does. It’s only been a day or so anyway. 

When you’re done Soap steals some supplies- mostly food -from the safehouse and you set out to look for a vehicle. It doesn’t take you long to find a rather old looking car, you keep an eye out while Soap hotwires it like he’s done this a thousand times. Before you know it you’re on the road driving back to Sakhra.

“What’re you thinking about?” He asks after at least an hour of silence, you were starting to doze off. His question jolts you awake and you look over at him. 

“Why did you kiss me?” You ask. He smiles.

“I just had to, you’re stunning lass.” He says, it makes you blush. You turn to look out the window of the car. 

“Don’t falter me, a few days ago you would have put a bullet in my head.” 

“Yeah, we’re not merciless killers though.” You scoff, they’re soldiers, they're trained killers. You sit there in silence. 

“You’re a good kisser.” He says suddenly. 

“What- I mean. It was just a kiss.” You say feeling embarrassed, he just laughs. That annoys you, he’s being so chill about it, what if Price found out? What if he finds out then decides you’re a liability?

“You all seem close.” You say trying to move the subject on from you and Johnny. 

“Closer than you think.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“We’re a close unit. Worked together for years. When you spend so much time together, you develop a strong relationship.” He says switching between watching the road and your expression. You have an eyebrow raised, you expected him to continue. 

“Brothers in arms right?” You say, you’ve heard that before from soldiers.

“More than that.” You shake your head scoffing. He’s playing with you, trying to wind you up. What's closer than brothers? 

“You fucking each other or somthing.” You joke back. He doesn’t say anything, you turn back to look at him frowning. He’s just smiling, the cheekiest grin you think you’ve ever seen. “Really? You’re messing with me.” He just laughs, it doesn’t help you decide if he’s joking or not.

You let out a sigh looking out at the winding road. You’re not far now.

____

When you make it back to the ULF base the place is almost empty. You both head straight to the doctor who fixes your stitches and tends to Soap’s arm as well as giving him a pot of burn cream and instructions. 

When you’re done you both go to see Farah. Alex is with her, they both look tired. The table is filled with maps dotted with big red X’s. You look round as Soap catches them up on what happened. You wonder if Price has sent word yet, you hope they’re okay.

“-We take out Konni, before they make it any further south.” Farah says, you look over at them, catching the end of the conversation. 

“We don’t know if Konni are moving or not. Price will be able to give us some idea.” Soap says.

“We could be waiting days for that.” Alex says crossing his arms, he doesn’t have a sling anymore, maybe his arm was just sprained.

“They attacked their own bases?” You ask pointing at the map. 

“They want to shift the blame to us.” Farah says.

“The fact they used American weapons on civilians has got the US all wound up.” Alex says.

“They’re spreading us thin, I’ve already lost 20 men. We can’t fight them on the front without leaving ourselves open to attacks.” Farah sighs.

“You have weapons from the US, why not fight back?” You ask. There’s silence, people look around at you like you’ve just asked them to do something impossible. 

“If we fire on them we lose our advantage.” She says.

“Which is?” You ask with a raised eyebrow.

“If the Americans come, they won’t be after us.” She says. You look down at the map, the new line Al Qatala have formed. There’s no news if Konni or Al Qatala forces have made a move from the border, it seems like they’re waiting for the ULF to make a move first. 

It’s too many targets for Farah to handle alone. 

“What about hitting them at the source? Take out the rest of their weapons.” You say pointing at the farm you know they’ve been storing munitions and rockets.

“They were fired from Russia.” Alex said.

“No, they were fired from inside the country. I bet if it's going to be anywhere it’s there.” You tap the map. Farah and Alex look at eachother. 

“A full scale raid is not possible.” She says, stepping back from the table.

“We could go in quiet.” Soap says. “Just the 4 of us.” 

“The place will be heavily guarded. They could have also moved them elsewhere.” Farah says.

“Even if we don’t find the missiles we will deal a pretty big blow to their resources.” Soap says. “You need all the help you can get.” 

“Okay. Tonight, you should get some rest.” Farah says. Soap smiles at her and Alex. He grabs your arm gently pulling you out of the room. You’re heading down to the sleeping quarters before Soap grabs your arm pulling you into a store room. 

“Hey!” You call, you almost trip over something as his hands grab your shoulders and he pushes you up against the wall. Before you have a chance to say anything his lips lock onto yours. His kiss is needy, his tongue pressing into your mouth. You hum, closing your eyes and letting your hands drop to his waist. 

“Johnny.” You breathe as he pulls his lips off you, his mouth moving to your neck. His hands 

“What?” He asks, he’s not stopping though, running his tongue up your neck.

“What if Price found out?” 

“What do you mean?” He says. “Want him to join, I reckon he’ll be down for that.” He chuckles, now you’re convinced he's winding you up. You push your hands up his shirt and he grip your waist, his fingers digging into your skin, you’re sure he’ll be leaving marks. You run your fingers up his chest, feeling each muscle and scar. He’s hairy, you don’t care, now you’re getting needy, his lips running over you sucking on the sensitive spots on your neck. 

He looks up down at you, his hands come to hold your face. “I’m so glad I got you first. I thought I was going to have to fight off Gaz, or Price.” You frown at him but before you can press him further he kisses you. You drop your hands from his chest, gripping his waist and pulling him closer to you. 

Suddenly there’s a knock at the door. You freeze, you didn’t think anyone knew you were in here.

“Soap? There’s word from Price.” it’s Alex’s voice. Johnny smiles down at you.

“We’ll finish this later.” He says quietly before reaching over to open the door. You feel yourself blushing as Alex raises an eye at you both. Johnny slaps him on the shoulder and they walk away.

Banners by plum98

[venusscore]

Batfamily gets neurodivergent reader with bat hyperfixation/special interest

Includes: Bruce Wayne’s biological child getting overwhelmed at a concert, Batdad calming them down, general headcannons

Oh my gosh I wrote this so quick. I loved it sm.

This is from something in a previous post I made, where I took the theories I’d seen of Batman being autistic/neurodivergent, and let him and biological child reader relate to each other.

(this will be more Autism/ADHD centered than anything else. I really wanna do one for ASPD later, so lmk if you’re interested in that)

(Reader is ages 6-8, as requested <3)

When you first came into Bruce’s life, it was just you with what little belongings you owned.

He helped you settle in, of course, but what he didn’t expect was to see while unpacking your stuff was so many bat-themed objects.

Your little toy Bat, your books, the shirts… he quickly could see what genetics you got from him.

Bruce, as always, got attached quickly. Of course he did. You followed him like a duckling to its mother, carrying that little stuffed toy and getting excited when you saw every bat-themed item in his house. He was such a proud father.

One day, he took you and your siblings to some concert that he’d heard about while visiting the Kents. It ended with the families deciding to meet up and go together.

Everything was going well! Tim and Conner were making bets on something, Damian and Jon were bickering while also stuffing their faces with snacks, Dick was playing cool older brother while Jason was the annoying one, Cas and Steph were betting on Tim and Conner’s betting, and Duke was busy getting stuff at the concession stands.

Bruce had you perched on his hip while talking to Clark and Lois. Jason liked to tease him about how you’re gonna get too big to be carried one day, but he swears that’ll never happen.

The concert starts, he sees all the kids getting excited, and he’s beaming. He’ll never be able to explain how his heart warms when he sees their smiles.

However, the second the first cord of the song starts and the bright lights flash, he feels you tense up. He looked at you a second, assuming you were just surprised or something, but then he sees your hands go to your ears while your face hides in his side, and he knows something’s wrong.

He quickly excuses himself, carrying you into a family bathroom.

He’d settled on the floor and sat you on his lap. Bruce spent a while gently reassuring you and rubbing your back, giving you hugs when/if you needed. After enough time, you’d calmed down enough to say quietly “it’s too loud and bright.”

He’d immediately understood. In fact, he brought himself ear plugs for the concert because he also tends to get overwhelmed with the noise. He felt so bad for not considering that, with how much you’re like him, you’d also share some of his problems with extreme environments.

He’d luckily brought an extra set of earplugs. If you went back in the concert and felt fine after putting them on, he’d just carefully watch you most of the time.

If you were still upset, he’d take you home. Anything to keep his baby from crying. His heart couldn’t take it.

Regular head-cannons:

I’ll mostly be expanding on what I wrote in the last version.

He 110% calls you “baby bat,” “little bat,” etc.

Dick heard the name(s) and quickly started saying them as well. Eventually, anyone who liked nicknames used them on you

If you DARE to ask Bruce not to call you that as you get older, he’ll never listen. If you say it embarrasses you in front of friends or something, he’ll deliberately say it in front of them. He still thinks it’s cute.

When Alfred met you, he was shocked by how much you reminded him of Bruce. You one day walked in, wearing a tiny bat costume (Dick and Barbara teamed up to choose your clothes that day), and Alfred stared at you for a solid minute before finally finding his voice.

That’s all for now! I have more I want to write, and definitely will on this topic. Feel free to send me/comment ideas!

Thanks to @ahhhhhhhghghhhgg for commenting on this post (link below this)

[azonewithu]

Relugios get what they deserve all of them. The God i know the best one ai t so big onnstupid asx religion. And they act like they know something or ate higher wrong. You just get lurdwred more. Gods regions perfect perfect weather agsin this season how everyone else doing. Yeah i fo t give a fuvk byrn up and die. If God lives uou so kuch how come everyone on thos fuckn planet wants you dead? Nobidy likes religios kuch yhst i ever tslk to. Humanitynis more important thsn relugion by far. Thats ftom God. Michael Gabrirl hit them so hard thet dont recover ever. The middle east has lost do luch money and general realect it never recovers. Theyre trying not to advertise what theyve lost. That was a swt up if i ever saw one i would know. A set up the whole fucon thong 100 percent ots easy to tell when you follow the money. Nobody in the world likes those peopke no one likes americants. Youre people are yelliye Jenna bad. Those film goifs you know are yelliw hated by God yhose fyckn soldiers ftom tour nation. Fycon whiny lik bitches in the battlefield they alre like 43rd beat soldiers on earth. Fuckn yellow cowards who cant fight at all. Theyll piss the pants if they hear russians are around. What the russians lets gwt out of here. Shoot quick then run for your lives. Let the Ukranians fight them. Cowards. Im Azriel the god of war i would know. Americsns ate fuckn cowards thats it. Your veterans ate alk cast out of wven purgatory for general cowardice and alliance with the devil. You wont fo well people who cant fight worrh dhit kn my earth never fo. Hows keaton doun he fesl like another round in the ring? Ask him Jenna. No on es sll right do peoole look all right. Therell be a time when none of you can act doon snd no one cates. Im slready thete i cant sit through any of ghese movies. Its the sane stupid x ript releated and if nit i fo t wanna see it anyway. Thetes nothing new coming no kne gets along i think im gonna close the book kn himanity. Cowards i sayof in Gids eyes.i jilled do many of you challenge your faggot goof domdiers every day theyre nobody now. You csnt bsvk doen that many times in a row and be resoected by God. The russians told ne fuck you smerucsns this workd is theirs. Theyte tryi g yo save face and ssy youte still the inly super power. Nah youte the last stypid power on earth thete ate no such thing. Youre all fuckn wesk and the russisns march west will never stop. They want it all you see yhem start moving yowards the middle east. Theyvwant vontrol of most of the workds oil and minerals. They slready know smericans are cowards and will not fight. Yiuve proved uoyrsrlves ciward hell i beat your stupid assrs senseless and dirextky challenged every bitch ass troop uou lisers have got. Not ine wants to duel Azriel. The workds fone doomed Jenna but dont lwt that upset you. Its about time to God. Hes warned us fir too long yo no avail. And those fi called leers of yours im s way better writwr like a hundred times bettervthan you ir anyone youve dver come in contact eith byrton sny if ghise kverrsted sssholes. Hows the palisafes lookn burton still burned foen? Good fuvk you and fucknthose peopke too. Thats ehat they get for stealing from Gid. You know its true fuck them and fuck you too. You wanna duel skinny weirdo lookn bitch? Yeah do shut the fuvk up thrn goof. Ilm tid h uour region agsin soon do t you eiery bitch. Fuck with ne look ehst you did you dud yo thisebpeiples houses. All those kids their schools gine. Their houses gone. And not kne of them took anything from me. And i marked the people shomdid iver the years. Kuds they burned your houses down for crimes agai st God. If youre sore at snykne be angry at yhem the knes ive matked. I warned them many times geirge lucas ftom dmsat wars primarily that guy us the guy you go see about your mussing everything. Abd im not done i eoukd t rebuold thete is thete are etill outstsnding debts yo God ill anihilste the pkace as doon as you finish rebuilding. I heard its going slow its too expensive to replace at current rates. Hey ibwarned these peopke sll of them

Jenna Ortega.

[rats-n-roaches]

tav relationship chart!

(sorry for no minthy - i’ve never recruited her)

amadea’s thoughts on her companions below (warning for a WHOLE LOT of yapping)

Wyll: Who would've thought I'd become the object of a hero's affections? I feel so silly around him; so weightless and loved. My dad once told me I fall in love too quickly - that I mistake kindness and affection for real romantic love, which I know to be true. I realise I'm far clingier than anyone deserves, suffocatingly so, but I do think Wyll likes it. I hope he does, at least. I'd say spending so long with only that she-devil for company would make anyone starved for affection. I am, too, though. He sometimes pushes his forehead into my lips, not unlike a cat. Oftentimes, we share a tent, as I'm not so keen to be by myself anymore, and Wyll uses me as a pillow so he can sleep comfortably with his horns. Speaking of which, I find them utterly gorgeous, and I only wish I could convince him of their beauty. Maybe he'll let me dress them up some? I saw some piercing scarring on his ears, so perhaps he isn't totally against jewellery. He's definitely made for gold - I think ruby would suit him too. Or maybe prehnite, so we can match? He's good with children, I should add. Something for me to tuck away for later. I assume it's from his own childish, for lack of a better word, nature. There's a certain...naivety about him. He is every storybook hero I have read to Indigo - surely the same stories he was read as a boy. Courageous and unfaltering, never one to back down. In other words, a mite egotistical. I don't say that maliciously, of course, I say it with pity. He has such boyish pride - something I don't think is so common for someone only two years my junior.

Shadowheart: Shadowheart's nice...when she wants to be. When she told us she was Sharran, I was taken aback. First, I was worried. Shar's followers are hardly merciful. Time and time again, Shadowheart has been rather negative and graphic. She and the undead are close, and they speak lowly of us in elven. Sometimes I am thankful that my mother taught me her tongue; other times I am not. I digress - back to Shar. I, personally, find the whole cult religion of Shar to be quite...edgy. All salt, vinegar, and everything sinister. Gloomy people who decided to wallow in their grief rather than get out of it. No, I'm being rude. Most Sharrans, from what Mum said, have lost so much that they feel there is nothing left except the darkness. Maybe Shadowheart had felt that way? But she's so young...in elf years, at least. I find myself wondering what she'd gone through to turn to Shar. I see a light in her; a light that Shar has yet to diminish.

Karlach: It's nice to be travelling with a fellow tiefling. Karlach is loud and hot-headed, but she is so very sweet. Now, with my blood being pitch, I am very sensitive to heat. I can't sit too close to the hearth, I can hardly stay outside during summer and spring, and I can't be near her, lest my blood clots. I had a heart attack very young because of that. I (try to) keep my distance, but she...draws me in. She is everything I fell for in Ma him. Strong and sweet, and Hells, she even looks a bit like him. Strong jaw, wine colored skin, cat-like pupils...hers are gold, though. His were silver. I find myself staring quite often, and I can hardly turn my eye away when I watch her and Wyll in battle. I've had few infatuations with women, most stemming from my youth. Still, I can hardly decipher if my feelings are those of affection and admiration and not real love. My dad tells me that I mistake those often. I can't help but think of Wyll among this. I know it's not uncommon for people to have multiple partners, but I don't know if either would be okay with that. I'm certainly not about to broach the issue. I don't think she'll be around much longer, much as it pains me to say. I don't want her last memories of me and Wyll to be awkward or uncomfortable. Lord Death, keep her safe when she makes her journey to your domain.

Lae'zel: I don't really know much about her, but she is very scary. Understandable, considering what I know of her upbringing. in a cresh crech cresch To my surprise, she's keeping the egg we obtained. In the nursery, I was hesitant to take it. I, foolishly, assumed its parents would worry about its absence, but Lae'zel explained to our party in great detail the customs of not only how Githyanki are raised, but also their...procreation...rituals. We (sans our darling Blade) were all mildly discomforted. Digressing, she is not completely cruel. Blunt, yes. But she cares. She never had to stick with us or try to cure our parasites, but she did. I think her egg has softened her up a bit. Maybe I can help her with her kid when it hatches?

Jaheira: She knows my mother. Apparently, they were both at Moonrise one hundred years ago. I asked Mum, and she said she also laid her husband to rest before that; his name was Khalid. In many ways, Jaheira reminds me of Mum. Scary, old elven travellers, both haunted by things I doubt I could comprehend. Jaheira is more expressive than Mum has ever been, though. She's fun to talk to; we trade snarky remarks on the road. I keep forgetting she's sort of famous and not just Mum's friend, though, and Karlach is more than kind enough to remind me with a glare and stepping on my tail.

Minsc: So that statue that was a common meeting spot for Indigo and her friends turned out to be a whole living man. And hamster. I don't really have many thoughts on him. He's loud and not very smart, but he's quite fun. I will say, I was impressed and mildly nauseated when he wrestled his way out of a mimic.

Halsin: He knows my mum too. Knows of her, at least. He witnessed her performing rites at Moonrise 100 years ago. I like Halsin. He reminds me of my dad, though Dad is much less...au naturel. Scent aside, I do think the two would get along. Both are adept at healing and nursing plants. Speaking of, while in the Underdark, Halsin made a brew for me so Shadowheart wouldn't have to put me under a calming spell every hour. It was disgusting, but I believe it held the same properties as the medicine I take at home. We talk about birds sometimes. He likes that I named Indigo after one of - my little bunting.

Gale: At first, I was catty to him. I ribbed at his wizardry, at how he had to learn magic, unlike myself, who was born with it. Of course, I did have to learn magic as well - as a branch grafted onto another family tree, my parents had no way of knowing about my draconic lineage (my scales only sprouted during puberty). When I accidentally burnt a leaf off one of my dad's plants, they realised I had sorcery in my blood, and hired me a tutor so I wouldn't burn anything more valuable, such as myself. Anyways, I still poke fun at Gale, but it's all good-naturedly. Like Jaheira, we often banter back and forth, trading droll insults to one another. One time, he described me as the sister he never wanted, though he grinned as he said it.

Astarion: Kelemvor guide me. He is an undead - an abomination by your decree. In my waking, he is cruel. Our first meeting, he pinned me down with a blade. I had memories of Malieos that had not resurfaced in years. He reminds me of those in my youth (and maturity, I fear) who call me foulblood and unbirth. In my slumber, he is worse. I woke to his teeth at my neck. I can't recall what I said, but he left me alone afterwards. Did you speak through me? His eyes pierce me like his knife once did. He watches me. No others hear my pleas for his undeath to end, so I plea to you, Lord. I pray you will grant him eternal rest. I pray you guide him through the Fugue swiftly and safely, and allow his soul to sleep.

[chosaraki]

Mine forever

—————————————————————————

Gitae Kim x R.femele.

—————————————————————————

(Y/n) as a close friend of Jake Kim

—————————————————————————

The metal sound echoed softly in the shed. The smell of oil, grease and burnt steel mixed with the humid morning air. You were down, focused, with your fingers dirty with oil while changing the chain on Jake's bike. He had left with you trusting that he would take good care of it - and you always took care of it.

Being his friend meant many things: listening to his outbursts, covering up illegal fights, protecting the younger boys from the Big Deal, and - of course - fixing his motorcycles every time he came back with them destroyed.

You heard low music on the phone, so you didn't notice the shadow until it completely turned off the light around you.

He looked up.

And there he was.

A man so tall and wide that he seemed shaped by war. He wore black from head to toe, no symbols, no marks - just presence. The type of presence that forces anyone to straighten their posture. His eyes examined you as if they knew too much, even without ever having seen you.

You got up calmly, wiping your hands on the cloth. His gaze was direct, without fear - as it always was.

- "You're lost?" - you asked, simple.

He smiled. A cold, elegant, soulless smile.

- "Actually, I'm looking for someone. Jake Kim They say he's number one here."

The mention of Jake's name has already put you on alert. This man was not from the police, nor from the local gangs. You felt that. He didn't use threats - he was the threat.

- "He's not here now." - he replied, trying to keep the tone neutral.

- "You lie badly." - he tilted his head to the side, like a wolf studying the prey.

You didn't back down. But the tension was palpable.

He took another step. Now, between you and the exit. His body radiated danger. Still, his gaze was not on his face - it was on his body, on his every line, as if he was calculating how long it would take to break each part.

- "Are you just his friend?" - he asked.

You crossed your arms, keeping your chin up.

- "Yes. And why? Jake is not afraid of anyone. If you came to fight, you'll leave here with more broken parts than this bike."

That should have the angry one. He smiled. A smile that was not warm - it was of perverse interest.

- "Braved." - he murmured. - "I like that. And now I like you."

He approached once again. You took a step to the side, but he cornered you against the tool bench, the big hand landing next to your waist.

- "Jake has so many things and doesn't even know what to do with them. Maybe I'll show you how a real Kim treats a woman."

His heart raced - with fear and anger.

You looked into his eyes.

- "Do you think you can intimidate me? Jake may be your brother, but you're nothing like him."

He didn't move. But his eyes darkened. His pride had been touched.

And he liked it.

- "Jake will hate me more than he already hates... when I make you choose me. Of my own free will."

With a last intense look, he retreated.

- "Tell him that Kitae passed by here. And that now... he has something of mine."

He walked away without looking back. But you knew: that conversation wasn't over.

It was just the beginning.

———————

Next day — Big Deal Shed

Jake entered the shed with his step hurried and his jaw locked. The other members could barely follow him - he only walked like that when he wanted to kill someone.

- "Where is she?" - he asked one of the boys, who indicated the back area without daring to face his leader.

You had your hands in the pockets of your sweatshirt, with headphones in your ear, but you noticed his presence as soon as he entered. Jake's energy was different - hot, intense, protective. But today it was loaded.

He stopped in front of you. The look was worried... and furious.

- "(y/n)... is it true?"

You took off your headphones. - "If you're talking about your sick brother surrounding me yesterday... yes. Yeah."

Jake was silent for a moment. His fists closed slowly, as if he were holding himself.

- "What did he say?" - his voice was low, dangerous.

- "I said that now you have something of him. And he seemed to be talking about me."

Jake turned around, kicking hard a toolbox, which ricocheted and fell scattered on the floor. The others moved away.

You weren't scared. He approached him, firmly.

- "Jake. I'm not your possession. And I'm not fragile either."

- "I know." - he replied quickly, still not looking at you. - "But he's not like the others. Kitae... he pulls out everything he likes and keeps it to himself. He doesn't joke, (y/n). He destroys."

You held his arm, squeezing it.

- "So let me fight. Let me be part of it."

He finally looked at you. And you saw: real fear in his eyes. Jake Kim, always protective, was scared to death of losing you.

———————

NIGHT — BIG DEAL ROOF

You needed to breathe. The night was cold, and the sky, without stars. You went up to the roof, the only place where you could think. The city seemed calm. It just looked like.

A voice broke the silence behind you.

- "You searched for me in your thoughts all day."

You turned slowly. Kitae was there, like a shadow that emerged from the concrete. He wore black, his hands in his pockets, as if he wasn't the most dangerous thing alive in that block.

- "Did Jake tell you that I would kill for what I want?"

You took a step back, but firmed your feet. - "If you want me, you'll have to kill me too. Because I'm not something that is stolen. And I don't even see myself easily."

He walked up to you, slowly.

- "You still don't understand, (y/n)..." - he stopped inches from your face. - "I don't want to hurt you. But I will. If that's the price to have you."

You faced him. There was no fear in you. Just repulsion... and a strange spark. Something that Kitae also noticed.

He growled low.

- "Jake never looked at you the way I look. He protects you like a brother. But me? I think of you with your hands tied and your neck full of marks."

You pushed him hard, but he held your wrist before it retreated.

- "And that's why I won't give up. You will be mine, (y/n). Even if it costs my brother's head."

And then he let go. As if you had all the time in the world.

- "See you soon."

He disappeared into the shadows of the building as if he had never been there.

But you knew. That wasn't the end.

——————————

Any night - Empty street, near the Big Deal shed

It was late. You came back alone, headphones in your ears, thick coat and the thought away. I had just argued with Jake. He wanted to take you away from everything, send you away, as if hiding was a solution.

And you hated it.

You weren't a maiden.

But at that moment, even full of anger... you felt it before you saw it.

A black car stopped a few meters away. No license plate. Dark windows. The passenger door opened slowly.

And before you could react - strong, fast, cold as steel arms wrapped around your waist. They pulled you as if you were light as paper.

You fought, kicked, screamed. But there was no one on the street. And that damn perfume - the masculine, woody, clean smell - made you want to bite your own tongue.

You were in his arms.

Kitae Kim

Inside the car. Locked. Prison.

- "I'm been thinking about doing this for days." - he murmured, calm. "You think about me, don't you?"

You snorted, staring at him. - "You're sick. Let me go now."

He looked straight into his eyes, as if he saw through his defenses.

- "I saw how you looked at me. On the roof. And before that. You try to fool yourself. Try to hate me. But I'm inside your head."

You wanted to spit on him. I wanted to punch. But...

... I didn't want to admit, not even to yourself... that he was fucking hot.

Those veins bounced in the forearms. The way he spoke with his chin locked. The predator's look.

"Imagine if he grabbed you hard, threw you against the wall, made you shut up with his mouth..."

- "WAKE UP, (Y/N)!" - you said loudly, hitting your own face with the palm of your hand. "He's a maniac, psychopath, human trash!"

Kitae laughed. He heard.

- "I liked the sincerity. That makes you even more mine."

You turned around, trying to open the door. He stretched his arm and locked it with a snat.

- "You're going to spend some time with me. Go talk to me. And you will understand... that all this you feel - the fear, the anger, the tension - all this is just the first stage of obsession."

You were silent. The car went through streets you didn't know.

Kitae watched you sideways.

- "You're going to fight. But in the end, (y/n)... you'll stop running away. Go look at me and accept: you want me."

You turned to him with a cold look.

- "You'll never be Jake. And I'll never be yours."

The smile he gave was slow. Dangerous.

- "I don't want you to be mine by force, (y/n). I want it to be... for the will."

And that was scarier than any threat.

Because part of you... was afraid that, deep down... he was right.

———————

How did all this start?

It was hard to believe that everything had started just a few weeks ago.

You remembered perfectly: the first day you saw him was quick - a strange presence during a tense meeting between gangs. You were standing next to Jake, arms crossed, without smiling, but watching everything. A girl among dangerous men, and yet... confident.

His eyes crossed with yours. It was fast. A still, cold, emotionless look - and at the same time... curious.

You thought it was just another bored mobster. Any look.

But it wasn't.

——————————

FLASHBACK —

THE BEGINNING

Kitae Kim didn't forget faces.

But yours wasn't just recorded - it was fixed.

You had something that messed with his control.

Your posture... your speech... the way you didn't look away from him like everyone else.

And for the first time in years, something in Kitae got out of control.

-

That same night, he already knew your name.

The next day, your address.

In less than 72 hours, your apartment had already been invaded while you were away.

Cameras installed in discreet corners.

Motion sensors.

Microphones hidden in sockets.

You didn't know... but you were already inside the cage, even walking free.

Observation

Kitae watched everything from a dark room, on split screens.

You in pajamas.

You cooking with your hair up.

You singing softly in the shower.

And then...

You alone in bed, rolling impatiently.

Hands sliding through their own body. The breath getting heavy.

The private pleasure, the eyes closed, the muffled moan on the pillow.

He saw it. Everything.

And that... made him burn inside.

- "She has no idea..." - he murmured, his fingers closing around the coffee mug.

- "...that already belongs to me."

——————

You were his new project.

But it wasn't just desire. It was possession. Fascination. Addiction.

—————————————————————————

—END OF THE FLASHBACK

The silence in the car was almost unbearable. The engine roared low while the city lights were disappearing little by little through the window.

You watched the path carefully - no point seemed familiar. They were leaving Seoul.

The seat belt pressed your chest as a reminder: you had no way out. And he knew that.

Kitae drove with a frightening calm. The long fingers rested on the steering wheel, firm, quiet, as if he hadn't just kidnapped you in the middle of the street.

You tried to keep your voice stable, but the fear choked inside.

- "To where are you taking me?"

He answered without looking at you.

- "To where no one will take you away from me."

His heart shot.

- "You're crazy."

- "No." - he murmured, now turning his face. The dark eyes shone with a sick certainty. - "Crazy is the world that ignores you. Jake keeps you as a friend, as a shadow. I see you in full."

You wanted to laugh nervously.

- "You kidnapped me. That's not seeing someone. This is obsession."

- "Right." - he turned right, taking a deserted road surrounded by trees. - "That's courage. I do what other men only fantasize about. I take what I want. And I want you, (y/n). From the moment you looked up at me without fear."

His stomach turned.

But worse than fear, it was the heat on your cheeks. The sweat on the back of the neck. The damn thought that came back:

"Why is he so handsome? Why doesn't my leg stop shaking?!”

You closed your eyes and tried to concentrate.

The house appeared after twenty minutes of tense silence. Isolated. Huge. Automatic gates. No neighbors nearby.

A luxury captivity. A prison tailor-made for you.

The gate opened slowly and he parked calmly.

- "Leave." - he said, without violence, as if he were inviting you to dinner.

You hesitated.

- "If I run, will you kill me?"

He smiled... with his eyes.

- "If you run, you'll find out what I'm capable of."

You left.

The night air was dense. The house was silent. He put the card on the door and let you in first.

The house was clean, modern, large. But... there were pictures of you on the walls.

You froze.

It was you in ordinary moments: reading, laughing with friends, sleeping. Photos taken from afar. Or maybe... from the inside.

- "You have cameras in my house." - you whispered, disgusted.

- "I had." - he corrected. - "Now I don't need them anymore. You're here."

You turned around, your heart in your throat.

- "I will never love you. I will never want you."

He stared at you for a second... and then took a step forward. The voice came out low. Intense.

- "Then learn to hate me with each of your cells. But do it close to me. Here. Where I can see you feel."

And the worst? Part of you... trembled with something that wasn't just fear.

——————

Days passed in that house.

You've tried everything. Ignore him. Face it. To provoke. Pretending coldness. Vomit sharp words whenever he approached.

But Kitae Kim was a patient monster.

He didn't need to run. Because I already knew: what burns, consumes. And what consumes, dominates.

You slammed the door. He smiled.

You ate in silence. He was watching you.

You said "I hate you"... and he just answered:

- "One more step."

He was winning, and you knew it.

Because deep down, between fear and anger, something in you burned. Something unthinkable.

That night, you decided to try one more time. The plan was simple: to provoke so much that he would retreat. Make him feel disgusted. Make him let you go.

You came down with a short dress. Cold eyes. Firm steps. He sat on his couch, with his legs crossed, as if he were in control.

- "Do you want me that much?" - you said, sarcastically. - "So take it. Enjoy. And then he gets sick of me right away."

Kitae didn't answer right away. He looked at you in silence.

Then he got up.

Came to you.

And before you could react - he pulled you by the arm, throwing you on his shoulder as if it were nothing.

You screamed, hit his chest hard, kicked.

- "You crazy! Let me go!!”

But he carried you to the room. He opened the door with his foot. He threw you on your back on the bed. His body came on top, like a shadow, like fire. The heat of his body, the wild eyes.

- "You want to provoke me until when?" - his voice was low. Hoarse. Burning.

- "You're playing with fire. But I am the fire."

You tried to turn your face, but he held your chin tightly. The glued faces. The eyes fixed on yours.

- "Do you hate me?" - he whispered. - "Or are you just pretending to keep your pride?"

You were breathing fast. And I was tired of running away. Tired of pretending.

Because the desire overflowed. Because he dominated you inside even when you said no.

You pulled him by the shirt. He tore the fabric between you. His hands are warm. Firms. His body is heavy, solid. His raw, impatient touch. No mercy.

And in that bed, in the middle of the emotional war, you got lost.

You moaned loudly. There was no control.

You shouted his name.

You bit his shoulders, scratched his back, arched his body.

- "You're mine." - he said through his teeth, with failing breathing.

- "My. Only mine. Until the end."

And even if the world rushed around, at that moment... you didn't want to escape.

I wish he never stood.

————————

The truth was simple, cruel and addicted: every time you tried to resist, you ended up in bed.

You said "no" with words, but your body screamed "stay".

And he knew. Kitae Kim read you like no one else.

You tried to keep control. She tried to learn something new from him - defense, escape, emotional domain. She tried to be cold. Sarcastic. Offensive. I wanted to prove to be stronger, smarter.

But he always found the loophole.

And you... always slipped on her.

———————

You were in the center of the room, with your arms crossed, trying to learn a new defense technique that you had read in a manual left by one of his guards. He watched from the couch, shirt open, eyes half-closed.

- "I'm trying to learn, damn it." - you said, frustrated, after missing the movement for the third time.

- "You look beautiful when you get angry." - he said with a crooked smile.

You spun on your heels.

— "Go fuck yourself—"

He was already up. It was already too close.

His hands slid to his neck. Not with violence, but with control. Domain.

The firm, warm fingers, forcing you to look straight into his eyes.

- "Every time you start screaming..." - he murmured - "...it ends like this."

You shuddered.

Your body responded before your mind.

The legs became weak. Breathing failed. The lips parted.

He had found it. Your weak point.

You tried to resist. He used words like a knife:

- "You're disgusting. Coward. Psychopath. If you think you own the world, but you're just a... of a—”

He squeezed lightly, just enough for his voice to become a moan.

His eyes closed. His body arched.

- "You don't know how to lie, (y/n). When I play here..." - he pressed a little more, with his thumb on the side of his neck - "...you undo it."

You wanted to curse. I wanted to hit.

But all that came out of his mouth was a low, broken, shamefully real moan.

- "Damn..." - you whispered, your knees almost giving way.

He held you with his arms, sticking your body to his.

- "Do you see? You are my favorite lesson. And I'm the only one who really teaches you."

The clothes were torn off in a hurry. The floor turned into a bed. The world has disappeared.

You got lost in the screams, in the dirty words, in his smell.

And once again... you were defeated. For a touch. By a command. For him.

⸻

You could hate Kitae Kim.

But your body?

Your body... had already surrendered.

—————————————————————————

After weeks of secret surveillance. She tried to resist with hatred, provocations and strength - but Kitae discovered her weak point: control. Each confrontation ended in desire, tension and physical surrender.

Despite everything, she feels pleasure with him, even fighting against it. What began as kidnapping became a mutual, dangerous and explosive addiction.

He wants her body and soul.

And she... is on the verge of not being able to escape anymore.

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[thevoicefromanotherworld]

"YOU HAVE NOTHING TO BE ASHAMED OF, DOLL"

I WROTE ANOTHER FIC WITH BUCKY

I hope you like it! 😊🖤

Although he didn't want to admit it to anyone, Bucky had been watching you ever since Iron Man introduced you as the new member of the team.

Since that day, the soldier couldn't help but spend most of his time watching you, and without you realizing it, he left you little touches that brightened your day, like underlining the most important information in mission reports so you could see them better, or leaving the last piece of cake in the fridge uneaten because he knew it was your favorite.

That day, Stark had organized a party in honor of Peter, who had been part of the team for a year now.

For the party, they went to one of Tony's houses in a select corner of New York City, with its pool, a huge terrace, and, of course, tons of food.

When they walked in, everyone was amazed by how big everything was.

Even though they were already used to Tony's ostentation, everyone agreed that this house was on another level, even for him.

Without a second thought, Natasha, Steve, Wanda, and Pietro shed their clothes and jumped into the pool.

The sprinter didn't before picking up a running start to dive in, splashing everyone.

Bucky wasn't in the mood for a swim, so he decided to start slowly and have a drink from the bar on the terrace.

While he drank, he looked around for you until he found you leaning against one of the tables, alone, with your hands on your chest in a clear protective pose.

You looked at the boys in the pool with a mixture of pain and anxiety, as if it physically hurt to see them having a good time.

Bucky waited a few moments to see what you would do, and when he saw you enter the house, he followed you.

He walked a few steps, and after climbing a flight of stairs, he saw you sitting in an armchair in front of one of the windows.

He knocked on the door a couple of times, causing you to turn sharply toward him, colliding with his large, expressive blue eyes.

"Hi"

"Hey, doll" he greeted with a kind smile. "I saw you leave, and I wanted to know if you were okay"

"I'm fine," you nodded vigorously, looking back at the view in front of you. "Thanks for worrying, I'll be right there"

Bucky knew something wasn't right the moment you were so curt and sharp with him.

That wasn't you, you weren't like that.

He entered the room and gently stood beside you, just enough to see several tears sliding down your cheek.

"Oh, honey" he whispered, holding your chin between his fingers "What happened?" he murmured. "You know you can tell me, right?"

"Yes," you replied, angrily wiping your tears with the back of your hand. "It's nothing. Just a bunch of things piled up, and I couldn't help but break down. That's all." You waved your hand towards the door. "You can go back downstairs with the others. I'll… I'll come as soon as I can."

"I'm not going anywhere," he whispered gently. "I'm not going to leave you alone, especially not when you're like this," he murmured, searching your gaze with his eyes. "Who did this to you?" he asked very seriously. "I'm sure it was some idiot who broke your heart, is that it? Right?"

"No, it's nothing like that," you murmured. "It's just… I…" You swallowed hard before speaking. "I wanted to get in the pool with the others because I'm dying of heat, but I can't… It's not…"

"Hey, easy" Barnes murmured, gently holding your shoulders. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." I didn't mean to pressure you

"You're aren't Buck, really" you assured me. "It's just that I've never said this to anyone out loud, and it hurts and it's scary, and I don't know what you're going to think of me when I say it, but…"

"What?" he asked, his voice as delicate as a feather.

"Sometimes I'm ashamed of my body," you finally blurted out. "I think I don't deserve to do certain things because of it, and I feel worse the more I think about it," you murmured. "I really want to get in the pool, but I don't know if I'll be able to…"

"I'll do it with you."

"What?"

"I'll get in the pool with you, Y/N," he whispered, looking at you delicately. "You have nothing to be ashamed of, you… are…" he murmured thoughtfully. "Beautiful," he finished. "You have no idea how beautiful you are, and the fact that you won't let yourself see it makes me want to hit someone."

"You always want to hit someone, Buck," you joked. "Yes, but even more now," he said, making you laugh. "Seriously, doll, I'll get in the pool with you. Don't worry about the others," he whispered. "Just think we're alone, you and me."

"Alone," you repeated. He nodded.

"That's it," he murmured, smiling before offering you his hand to help you up. "Shall we?"

"Yes" you replied, letting him guide you down the stairs. "When you reached the pool, he took off his clothes, leaving him only in his underwear, and turned around while you took off yours.

He didn't look at you again until you were in the water.

Bucky's blue gaze reflected pride and happiness in equal parts, making a huge smile spread across her lips.

You spent the rest of the afternoon talking and laughing, all without once thinking about your body or the demons in your head.