#plus look at what russia is trying to do

[shattered-pieces]

For everyone who thinks the war in Ukraine is just a regional issue and thus "none of our business"--

Putin isn't the type of person to be satisfied with just one country

His appetite is Hitlerian

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Not All Bad

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~3k

Warnings: smut, sexual tension, car chase

Summary: You and Bucky are called out for a mission involving a very powerful and very dangerous nuclear bomb. The thing is, you two hate each other yet you two are the best for the job. Tensions skyrocket when you have to get closer than normal in order to make a safe getaway.

Squares Filled: adventurers/explorers (2021) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

You know why you’re going on this mission. You know why Bucky is going on this mission. You don’t know why you’re going together. You don’t care what Bucky has done or is capable of, you can’t stand the man. He’s quiet and minds his own business but you two clash every time you’re around each other. 

You’re normally a mellow person but there is something about Bucky that makes you want to commit violence. You two are very competitive against each other, you’re always trying to outdo the other, and you’re always bickering. You think you’re always right and Bucky thinks he’s always right. You don’t like his attitude because when he’s not being quiet, he’s cocky and arrogant like an old man is. The same thing could be said about you, but you’re not as bad as he is. The other Avengers have put your bedrooms on the opposite side of the compound so they wouldn't have to hear you two.

This mission is quite simple: get in, grab a nuclear bomb, and get the fuck out. That’s easy for you because you’re a shapeshifter who can shift into anyone just by looking at them, and that power has gotten you into every sketchy situation that the Avengers have thrown you in. Normally, you pair up with Steve because he has the super strength but he’s on another mission right now.

The only one who has his level of strength is Bucky. Plus, his vibranium arm is a major advantage for you both.

Shadow Corps stole a nuclear bomb from Russia and smuggled it into the States. The government wants you to grab it before they can use it. Whether or not the Accords were passed, you were still gonna take this case because no bomb should ever be put on American soil. After getting the bomb, the next team which includes Clint, Natasha, and Sam, will go in and arrest as many as they can.

The getaway car is waiting in position on the other side of the warehouse in Tony’s stealth mode. It will only activate when you and Bucky get close to it. There are bracelets that you two are wearing in order for the car to scan. The place is crawling with heavily armed guards with probably twice that inside. You have to do this quietly.

“Wait here. I‘ve got this,” you smirk.

Bucky growls lowly but does as he’s told. He knows his way will only end up with blood soaking everything. You’ve done some recon for Shadow Corps in the past, so you’ve seen what the big boss looks like. With ease, you transform into the big burly man and walk down the small hill toward the only entrance. The guard posted there stands up straight when he sees you walking toward him. Good. This man you’re impersonating demands respect.

“Sir,” the guard nods once.

“I need the bomb to be moved now. Someone tipped the police off. Get everything ready for transport. Go tell the others.”

“Sir--”

“Do I strike you as a man who likes to be repeated? Go, now.”

“Yes, sir.”

The guard scurries off to presumably tell the others. Once he is gone from ear and eyeshot, you turn to Bucky and give him a thumbs up. Bucky comes out of the shadows as you turn back into yourself.

“You’re welcome for making your job easier,” you grin.

“Bite me,” he growls.

You follow Bucky inside and keep your eyes peeled for any guards who might be coming your way. Tony provided a map he got from Friday, so you’re using that to get to the bomb the quickest way. This mission is all about time. You have to be fast. When word gets back to the actual boss, he won’t be happy that they’re moving the bomb. Luckily for you, he’s in another state doing business.

You turn the corner onto a straight and narrow hallway. The only way to get out of the hallway is either to go back the way you came or through the door on the other side of the hallway. You take two steps when the door on the other end is being pushed open. You turn to run the other way when you hear voices around the corner. If you don’t do something now, you’ll be caught and probably killed.

You can get out of this. Bucky can’t. As much as he irritates you, you kind of need him. There is a supply closet to your right that you’ll have to squeeze into if you want to make sure this mission is a success. You yank the door open and shove Bucky inside before sliding in yourself. The door barely closes when both parties on either side of the hallway come into view.

The closet is small enough as it is for the supplies in there, but it’s claustrophobic with you and Bucky. He’s too large of a man for you to fit comfortably. Your chest is pressed against his chest so you can either focus on the feel of his body against yours or you can focus on his eyes. You look up to see him already looking down at you.

You’re an idiot if you don’t admit there is some sort of attraction between you two. You know there is. You can’t do anything about it. Not only would that probably create problems for either of you, but it would only fuel his ego.

You can’t have that.

The closet is dark enough so you hope that he doesn’t notice you looking at his lips. As soon as your eyes lock onto his mouth, he licks his lips slowly. He’s the subject of your dirty dreams and now all you’ll be thinking about is his tongue.

“The coast is clear.”

Bucky opens the door and slips out with ease. You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding and force your breathing to return to normal. You follow Bucky down the hallway and to the room where the bomb is being held. There are no guards around because they think this place is so secure that they don’t need to guard the one thing people can’t steal. Not that they could if they wanted to. There are so many guards here that it would scare the average person.

“Okay, you’re up,” you say.

As much as you’d like to be, he’s the muscle.

“Just be a good girl and make sure no one comes in while I do the heavy lifting.”

You roll your eyes but do as you’re told. You stay by the door and listen for anyone who might be coming. Bucky approaches the bomb and studies the best way to handle the device. For something that packs a massive punch, it’s not that big. Tony crafted a container that could hold something this powerful, so the only thing Bucky has to worry about is transferring it without setting it off.

You look out the small window on the door and see a big guard with an even bigger gun coming your way.

“Bucky, someone is coming.”

“I’m kind of busy at the moment. Take care of it.”

You transform back into the bossman and step out of the room. The guard stops walking and becomes ashen when he sees you.

“Boss.”

“What the hell are you doing here? Do I pay you to wander around? Do you have a brain inside that thick head of yours?”

“Sorry, sir, but--”

“But nothing. Do I have to do everything myself around here?”

“Sir, the cars are ready for transport. I was on my way to secure the package.”

“What about everything else we have here?”

“We’re having trouble securing some of the product in such a short time. I figured we should get the bomb out as soon as possible.”

You step closer to the guard and he does the smart thing and backs up in fear.

“If I have to leave here and do your job, I’ll have to call your wife and let her know you’re not coming home. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Get everything packed up now. We will get this bomb out when it’s time. I need everything out of here.”

“Yes, sir.”

The guard leaves and you slip back into the room as yourself.

“Okay, I’m ready to pack it.”

Bucky carefully lifts the bomb and places it into the open container on the ground. He closes and locks the case knowing the wires in there will keep the bomb from moving. Bucky picks up the heavy case and allows you to leave the way to the car. As soon as the car senses both of your bracelets, it shimmers into view, and you unlock the trunk. This car was made specially to carry bombs such as the nuclear kind. It has a lead lining so that scanners won’t be able to pick it up, and the traction on the car is durable so if you hit a pothole or go over a bomb, the car won’t shake or move.

“Hey!” You and Bucky look behind you and see two guards running at you with radios to their mouths. Shit, you’ve been made. “Stop right here!”

“We gotta go.” The alarms sound throughout the facility and red lights flash brightly. “Just shove it in there!”

Bucky carefully puts the bomb in the trunk and you slam it shut before hopping into the passenger seat. As soon as Bucky is in the car, he starts her up and peels out of the place. Three cars immediately start chasing after you, and you look behind you to see how close they are.

“Looks like I’m not the only one who hates you. You’re insufferable to everyone,” you smile sweetly.

Bucky makes a sharp turn which causes you to grab onto the “oh shit” bar.

“Don’t act so innocent, Doll. They’re after you, too. I guess we’re both insufferable.” He looks in the rearview mirror and sees them getting closer. “Do something!”

You unbuckle your seat belt and roll the window down all the way. Before Bucky can question what you’re doing, you heave yourself out the window so that you’re sitting on the frame. You have the seatbelt clutched into your hand so that you have an anchor point, and you aim your gun at the cars. You shoot twice and run one of the cars off the road. Their tires blow and they go crashing into the tree.

“You might want to try the sunroof. It might be easier,” Bucky says.

“Now you tell me,” you roll your eyes.

Two guards start shooting at you, and you quickly duck inside to avoid being hit. Bucky opens the sunroof and points to his gun in the backseat.

“Try mine on for size. It’s bigger than yours,” he smirks.

“That’s the only time you’ll ever be able to tell a girl that.” You grab his gun and make sure it’s loaded with a few hundred rounds. It’s a machine gun so once you hit that trigger, dozens of rounds come out at once. You’re about to stand when the car jerks to the right. The second car in line has hit your car, and you almost went through the open window. “Try not to kill us, will you?”

“Shut up.”

You stand through the open sunroof and aim the machine gun at the second car. They don’t even have a chance. You fire dozens of rounds at the car and shatter their windshield. The car jerks so hard that the car flips twice before skidding to a stop.

“One to go!”

The last car has taken a different route instead of staying right behind you. Instead, they are zooming through the trees which makes it hard for you to get a shot from where you are. They are gaining speed and if you don’t do something soon, they are going to ram their car into the side of yours.

“Okay, new plan.” You duck back inside and look at Bucky with a sigh. “I’m gonna need you to trust me on this one.”

“I don’t.”

“Too bad. Just make sure we don’t crash.” You toss Bucky’s gun into the back seat and grab your much smaller one since it’ll be easier to use it with your plan. With light difficulty, you hop over the center console and right into Bucky’s lap. You’re facing him and his shocked eyes meet yours briefly. “I know you’re enjoying this but eyes on the road, Barnes.”

You roll down his window and aim your gun at the car that’s heading right your way. Bucky wraps an arm around your waist to keep you steady and presses on the gas. You aim at the tires and blow one of them but that doesn’t stop the car from barreling right at you. You empty your entire magazine and manage to shoot right through the windshield and into the driver’s head.

Bucky speeds up so that the car doesn’t crash into you. Instead, it smashes into the tree on the other side of the road. You sigh in relief and look at Bucky who is looking between you and the road. It’s like you’re back in the closet with him. Tension is high and adrenaline is coursing through your veins.

You can feel the tension on your inner thigh.

“That better be a gun in your pocket.”

“Nope,” he smirks. You roll your eyes but he’s done putting up with your shit. “Cut the attitude before I give you a reason to roll your eyes.” You shift to get off his lap but the arm that’s wrapped around your waist tightens. “Don’t move.” He drives like that for ten minutes before pulling over knowing they’re not following you two anymore. He leans his head back and stares into your eyes, allowing the tension to grow. “Fuck it.”

Bucky grabs both sides of your face and pulls you into him so he can kiss you. The second his lips touch yours, it’s game over. He growls when you grind your hips down on his either in frustration that you’re getting his cock hard or in lust for the exact same reason. He reaches to the side of the seat and pulls on the level that puts the seat back even though he pretty much has it all the way back. You reach over and pull the lever that lays the seat back, and he moves his hands down to your hips to grip you hard.

Even without that vibranium arm, his fingers will leave bruises on your skin for you to admire later.

You kiss down his jaw and to his neck where you nip at his skin, hard enough to leave behind marks. This between you two has been a long time coming so Bucky doesn’t want to waste any time with you right now. He pulls you back up to his lips and kisses you while snaking his hands down to between your legs. With an effortless tug, he rips your pants in half at the seam.

“What the fuck?” you mutter and pull away from him. “Your cock is so desperate to get wet that you couldn’t wait for me to take off my pants?”

“Shut the fuck up,” he says and pulls you back to his mouth.

You reach down and undo the button and zipper of his jeans before reaching in and gripping his cock with one hand. God, he’s so big that your entire hand can’t fit all the way around him. Good thing you’re a shapeshifter and can stretch as needed. It also means you can make it as tight as you want.

You pull it out and pump twice before moving your panties to the side. You position him right below your entrance and only slide the tip in. Bucky slams the back of his head against the seat in frustration but you’re not gonna make this easy on him. Unfortunately for you, Bucky is a lot stronger than you. He braces his feet on the floorboard and thrusts up while pulling you down on him. You don’t even have time to react because he’s filling you up deeper than you thought possible.

“Fuck!” you gasp and brace yourself with one hand on the seat by his head.

He starts with a ruthless pace, pounding up into you like his life depends on it. The car immediately fogs over at the increasing tension, and you slam your hand on the window which leaves behind an imprint.

“God, you’re such a good girl taking all of me. You’re so tight.”

“I can go tighter,” you smirk.

You lean down and kiss Bucky sloppily while he reaches down and slides his hand into your pants so he can thumb your clit. That plus the angle in which he’s thrusting is enough to push you closer to the edge. You know you’re close when the pressure is increasing, and you start to clench around him to show him you’re getting there.

“Awe, does my Doll want to come?”

“Mmhmm,” you whimper.

“Not yet.”

“Please, Bucky.”

“I said no.” He reaches up and grips your throat with his flesh hand. He slows down his thrusting only to go deeper. “Fuck, I’m close.”

“Then come.”

“You first,” he grins. “Come for me.”

Bucky rubs your clit in hard circles and that’s enough to push you over the edge. You gasp and moan as the waves of pleasure rush over your entire body. Your pussy spasms and clenches his cock, and he moans as he shoots his load into you. He thrusts a few times to ride out your high before relaxing into the seat.

“Fuck, you’re good at this,” you chuckle tiredly.

“Just wait until you see what I’m like in a bed,” he smirks. “Let’s go home so I can worship you properly.”

“Lead the way,” you smirk and move off him.

Well, Bucky’s good for one thing. He’s not that insufferable.

x

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[generational-atrophy]

hiii can i request russia, canada, germany and greece seeing their s/o wearing their clothes for the first time? good luck on ur finals :D !!

hetalia russia, canada, germany, and greece seeing their s/o wear their clothes

1.0k words ~ gender neutral headcanons / scenarios

tw: none!

a/n: holy shit tthis request is so old that its a new finals season :sob: guys im trying. ALSO idk how to write greece. but hopefully its ok

Russia

Ivan wouldn’t know what to do with himself if you wore his clothing. Like, he just never expected anyone to ever… want to do that?

Plus, if you’re any shorter than 6’ 5”, his clothes are more like blankets than anything wearable.)

Mornings at Ivan's house were always cold. His dacha had been built long before the invention of home heating systems, and he had always refused to modernize anything he owned.

So, when you finally woke up, you grabbed one of Ivan's jackets to keep yourself warm while you made breakfast. It was huge, on him and you, and lined with fur from animals killed centuries ago.

The house was quiet aside from the quiet sizzling of an egg on a pan. Or at least, it was until you heard the dull thuds drawing closer behind you.

In an instant, Ivan wrapped his firm arms around you, picking you up off the floor for a second.

“G-Good morning to you too,” You tease him softly. All he responds with is a quiet grunt, muffled as he buries his face in your hair.

“Should I make you something too?”

He shook his head, “You are too perfect to be cooking right now...”

“Aww, Ivan...”

”Please wear things like this more often...“ He mumbled, seemingly embarrassed.

”What, your things? Should I steal more jackets?“

“Yes... please...“ He said, and you could feel his smile, even if you couldn't see it.

He just can't get enough of you wearing his stuff. He thinks it makes you two look like a real couple. Then everyone will know that you're his (:

Canada

From the start of your relationship, Matthew had been trying to subtly coerce you into wearing his clothes. It's like, one of his main relationship goals.

So if you did it without him asking, his brain would fry.

“D-Dear, what are you- a-are you...?” Matthew's shaking voice makes it way past your earbuds, which you promptly rip out.

You turn away from your desk to face him, and his face immediately lights up.

”Sorry, I- I didn't have an-“ Is all you sputter out before you're interrupted by a hug that sends you tumbling backwards. He's warm as he curls around you, resting his head in the crook of your neck.

”Oh. Uh-”

“W-Wait, sorry... I- I didn't mean to um-”

“You're f-”

“No- I mean-” He pulls away, letting go of you completely.

“Math-”

“Sorry!”

“MATTHEW,” You finally manage to break him out of his stuttering state, “It's fine.”

He averts his gaze as he stands before you, awkwardly playing with his hoodie cuffs, ”I- I just really think you're um- cute in that...“

”Matt, it's just a hoodie.“

”Yeah but it- it has um... that...“ He points to the maple leaf pattern covering the hoodie. That makes you pause, looking up at him like he said something weird.

“It's just leaves.”

His cheeks immediately turn the same shade as the leaves on his hoodie, ”W-Well! It's better than stars and stripes!“

Seriously, anything that shows that you're showing him over America will make him go crazy.

Germany

Ludwig doesn't have a lot of casual clothes, so you're kind of limited in your “stealing t-shirts for pyjamas” options

And sorry to disappoint, but his stoic demeanour isn't getting majorly cracked even by that.

It was a rare occurrence for Ludwig to let you do anything around the house. He cooked the meals, he cleaned the dishes, he did most of the laundry, and the sweeping, mopping, and literally any other task that had to be done. So, in a moment you thought would never come, you were actually excited to be doing the dishes for him.

But, because of his disaster of a “modern, ergonomic” sink, that meant getting water all over your shirt. And seeing how you were wearing something nice for a date night with him, you only had one choice. Throwing on one of his torn and faded old t-shirts.

After a few minutes of washing the dishes alone, Ludwig took his place beside you, leaning against the counter and watching you intently.

“Yes?“ You prompt him, and he immediately looks a little embarrassed.

”Thanks for doing this.“

”You do this every night, so like, it's fine?“

”Y-Yes, but, I still appreciate it.“ He tells you quickly, before placing a hang on your shoulder. You turn off the water for a moment, plunging the kitchen into silence again.

Before you could register it, you were pulled closer to him. 

“You should wear my things more often…” He mumbled before leaning down to kiss your cheek.

“Buy more normal person clothes then.”

Then he pulled away with a groan, “OK, the moment is over.”

Greece

Heracles probably didn't even notice until you said something. Anytime he's looking at you, your clothes are the last thing he registers.

”Oh, wait... uh- sorry,“ You blurt out once you look down and remember what you're wearing, ”I forgot to ask if I could...“

He looks over you as your hands fidget with the hem of his oversized t-shirt. The design said something in Greek, but all you could make out were the words ”FOOD“ and ”CATS” (It was more important that it was comfortable than stylish.) For his part, he looked completely disinterested in whatever you were saying.

“If you could what?” Heracles asks, his tone dry and tired.

“If I could wear your shirt...”

“Oh,” Then he glances over your direction, barely looking over his tea, ”Yes, I see that now.“

”Do you... care?“

”No.“ He says as if what you had just asked was as obvious as the colour of the sky. Despite that, it didn't seem to bother or excite him in the slightest.

He might find it a little amusing when his clothes don't fit you, but generally he doesn't care. He believes strongly in the idea that ”What's his is yours, and what's yours is his.“

Because of that, he'll steal your clothes too. And he might rip them. Oops.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Don't cry. || Nikto

[MASTERLIST]

Rating: E Words: 3K~ (this one got away from me) Pairing: rogue asset!Nikto x civilian!Reader cw: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT., bad/incorrect medical care, injuries (described), being held at gunpoint, verbal and physical threats, blood and gore. other tags: you/your pronouns. fat/chubby!reader, no russian. Summary: A stranger takes you hostage in your own home and demands medical care... But you might have gotten more than you can chew. a/n: YES, Nikto’s voice actor is only 5ft10 but he’s 6ft5 in my mind, and I’m in charge sooo.

It's cold as all fucking hell in your small town. No. Not as all hell. Because you're pretty sure hell is supposed to be boiling hot.

Why did your family have to come from this small town in bum-fuck-nowhere Russia? And more importantly why did you decide to move back here after college?

Oh, yeah. The house. The little home that your grandma lived in since she was a child, that was fully paid and required no rent, and had very low property taxes due to it being ancient… And was left to you in her will. 

Well, in days like these, you can't help but despise the stupid fucking house. 

The pipes are frozen, which means you've resorted to getting water from the local firehouse every morning, as do the rest of your neighbors. Plus, it's freezing even with multiple layers of clothes and socks and scarves on. You sleep in front of the fireplace all winter and still fear you'll be dead in the morning.

Every year it's the damn same.

Maybe going to study in Moscow and then doing your master's and doctorate abroad softened you up. But you didn't remember it being so fucking cold.

Having as much meat on your bones as you do, it really shouldn't be as difficult as it is to withstand the cold. Sometimes you wonder if all those damn studies about how fat helps preserve body heat didn't apply only when people had heat to preserve.

Those are the thoughts in your head as you throw your last log in the fireplace and realize you need to get more from the woodpile outside. "Mother fucker goddamn piece of shit..." You complained.

Throwing on a winter coat over your robe, you stuff your double-socked feet into your winter boots, cover your head with a beanie and wrap yourself in a scarf.

Then you venture outside with the flashlight from your junk drawer, to illuminate the way. The wind outside is biting and the snow is tall, causing you to almost trip over your own feet.

"Fuck... fuck... fuck... cold." You grumble under your breath.

Sticking the flashlight between your teeth, you grab a few logs of firewood and slip them vertically into a black milk crate at your feet, trying to hurry so you can go back inside.

As soon as the box is stacked as full as you can carry, you bend at the knees and hurl it up by the handles, gritting your teeth against the flashlight between your teeth.

That's when you feel something hard press against the back of your head... and you hear a muffled voice. "Don't scream. Don't look back. Just move." The command chills your spine more than the -17ºC weather outside.

Your eyes shoot wide open in a panic and you have to force yourself to resist trying to look back. Instead, you nod and wobble your way along to the backdoor while carrying the heavy crate of firewood.

Once you slip inside, you set the crate down in the kitchen floor and take the opportunity to look out of the corner of your eye at the the stranger that held you hostage. 

He slams the door shut behind you and deadbolts it shut, then he rushes to the window, ripping the curtains shut.

He's wearing a flight suit and military gear but it's all in a navy color that you don't recognize… Maybe the Navy? But what would a Navy soldier being doing here alone, in the middle of the woods in your land locked town? Plus, he's clearly armed, carrying a pistol in one hand. The other wraps around his midsection and he's leaving a trail of small blood droplets on your floor.

His face is covered by a mask that looks more like a bunch of denim patched together than anything, leaving only his eyes showing. It’s even bolted to itself to not be easily removable.

“Where?” He asks you, eyes and gun trained on you as you straighten up and show your hands in innocence.

“Where… Where what?” You ask in confusion. Your body trembles all over and you’re pretty sure that you’re going to piss your pants if he keeps staring at you like that and barking vague orders at you.

“WHERE?!” He insists, raising his voice in a growl that sounds more animal than human. “WHERE. ARE. WE?” He adds, his voice boiling with anger and condescension.

“P-Provrsk!” You shout the name of your town as you flinch away from his own raised voice. Your gaze is locked onto him, taking in his mask and the blue eyes that stare at you from behind them.

You’ve never had to worry about a masked intruder in your home, ever. This is a small town, this sort of thing doesn’t happen here. Especially not one that looks like he’s deserted from the FSB.

“DATE?” He shouts at you again, making you flinch once more as your whole body tenses and curls into itself in fear. 

“8th of February… Thursday.” You reply, your eyes beginning to well up in tears. “Please… don’t hurt me…”

You’ve never been the crybaby type, in fact, you’d say you’re pretty good at staying contained in your day-to-day life, even when life is beating you down… But something about a 2 meter tall man in your kitchen shouting at you while waving a pistol around terrifies you to your very core…

With a deep breath, he leans himself back against the kitchen counter and another animalistic growling escapes him as his left leg straightens and twitches under him, his knee likely weakened. He’s still clutching his side with his hand and more blood puddles at his feet, dripping between gloved fingers.

He looks like he’s immeasurable amounts of pain and considering he seems to have walked here with an injury that’s still bleeding, you can’t help but wonder if the adrenaline isn’t starting to wear off.

The sight of him is pitiful… And for a moment he’s not some terrifyingly “You need… a doctor?” You ask him, more in a tone of affirmation than of question. He needs a doctor and you know it.

“No doctor.” He replies sharply, showing he still has all his mental faculties in place… Somewhat.

“You’re hurt.” You remark softly. “Bleeding all over my floor.” You add. You’re trying your best not to shake and cry and you’re not quite sure you’re succeeding.

“No doctor.” He insists as he shifts his weight around on his legs and hisses. "Needle, thread and alcohol." He demands of you and you’re not stupid enough to disagree with the armed man.

“In the upper cabinet behind you… The metal tin.” You instruct while barely pointing your finger at the cabinet door on his left side for fear that any more sudden movements will cause him to take you as a threat.

He sets the gun very carefully on the edge of the counter so that his free hand can reach up and over, patting at the cabinet, throwing the door open and feeling around inside for the aforementioned metal tin.

He’s been smart enough to put your small kitchen table between you either way, preventing any sudden lunging activity from you.

He never once turns his back on you, not even his face. His eyes are still locked on you, sending shivers down your body, making sure you don’t try anything… Not that you’d be stupid enough to dare.

He finally grabs the repurposed butter cookie tin and sets it next to him on the counter before grabbing the pistol once more and aiming it at you. “Metal spoon.” He demands.

“Over there… second drawer from the left…” You point discreetly at the drawer by the stove. 

“Get one.” He demands again and so you do, hands raised, taking very tentative steps across the kitchen, your heavy snow boots thudding against the floor.

Carefully, you lower your hand and pull open the drawer. Before you can even try to grab a spoon, you hear him bark at you again. “Only a spoon. Don’t try to grab a knife.” He warns you. 

Nodding very slowly, you reach inside the drawer and retrieve a metal table spoon and show it to him. “Stove.” He orders you again.

“Heat it up?” You ask softly and he grunts in what you assume is confirmation as he nods curtly at you. “I need matches.” You point at the drawer again and very slowly fetch the box of matches before closing the drawer.

Turning very carefully toward the old stove, you turn one of the knobs and strike a match, lighting the burner before extinguishing the match. “Heat the handle.” He demands and you nod in understanding as you peek at him sheepishly.

Slowly, you grip the spoon by the bowl and hold the metal handle over the flame, moving it ever so slightly to ensure an even heating up of the tip, your eyes locked on the flame and the slowly reddening type of the metal spoon.

While your back is turned, you can hear some rustling and a heavy thud on the floor. You assume he’s getting rid of his heavy gear in order to patch himself up… “Hurry up.” He barks.

“I can’t speed up the fire.” You reply softly, too afraid to speak too loud. 

“Watch your tongue, or else I’ll cut it off.” He adds, his voice grunted through as you hear some more rustling. His threat was enough to send chills down your spine and sent you back into muteness. 

Another minute or so later, you can feel the heat spreading across the whole spoon and even the bowl is too hot to hold. “It’s ready.”

“Move, quick.” He demands and you turn to face him, finding him still in the same spot, across the kitchen, leaning against the wall. He’s shed his plate vest, and undone the zipper of his flight suit, removing the sleeves and leaving it to hang around his hip. That exposes his torso completely, per lack of any undershirts or other layers. You wonder how he hasn’t frozen out there in just a flight suit…

The sight of him is so shocking and… disgusting. You feel your stomach turning, the warm meal you had an hour ago threatening to come out the way it came. He’s covered in scars, his chest speckled in patches of red skin or pale, melaninless skin, something you can only assume are burn scars.

The right half of his torso is covered in dried blood, sporting a hapharzard, thick suture that you can only assume he did a few days ago considering how swollen and red the skin around it is… Infected.

And, of course, the pouring, wet, red blood that escapes from his left side… It looks like he took a gash on it… maybe a gunshot, maybe an explosion, who’s to say… But he’s definitely got a hole and he’s leaking like a faucet.

“MOVE!” He barks at you, causing you to jump, startled out of from your shock-induced trance and you quickly rush over. He grabs the spoon from you with more aggression than you expected and shoves you away with a swift elbow to your side, to force you away from him. You fall on your ass, grunting softly upon landing. 

When you were younger, kids used to joke that all your fat would serve as an airbag in the case of a car crash, but the truth is, as you landed on the floor, you ass and legs hurt… As did you side from the elbow you took to it.

Your eyes well up in tears at the soreness on your body, as well as the sound that escapes him and reverberates through your kitchen as he sticks the red-hot spoon handle onto his open wound, gritting his teeth behind his mask as he cauterizes the wound shut. The sound is terrifying, like a gurgle mixed with a shout and an animalistic growl. (find the scream inspo here) 

You don’t want to look. But he’s doing this inches away from your face. You can’t help but watch in horror.

HIs legs shake underneath him and he struggles to keep himself upright but succeeds by landing his elbow and forearm on the edge of the counter. The hand that’s holding the pistol, the left one, flexes around the handle, fingers trembling with the pain. He struggles to stay on his feet as his right hand keeps softly twisting the spoon handle in his wound before pulling it out.

He grunts as he lets the bloody spoon fall on the floor at his feet and his head falls back with a couple more grunts and huffs, resting on the upper cabinets, his right hand clutching the wound again for a moment. You’re sobbing on the floor. Something about the sight you just got broke your resolve for a moment. You’re afraid… Very much so.

Just as you’re trying to calm yourself down, crawling backward over to the table to use a table as support to stand up from the floor, the sewing supplies tin crashes onto the floor at your feet with a ruckus so loud you can’t help but squeal.

Looking up at him, you notice him glaring at you. “Suture.” He demands angrily.

“I-” You attempt to speak but you can’t. Too afraid and too choked up to succeed in more than a light stammer.

“SUTURE!” He repeats his demand, his voice loud and sending chills to the innermost part of you as he leans forward a bit to look at you.

“STOP YELLING AT ME!” You shout in return through whimpers and whines.

“Stop crying. You have no reason to cry yet.” He warns you, his voice bitter and mean.

Your whole body quakes as you sob and scramble up on all fours, to grab the tin of sewing supplies from the floor.  You pop it open with shaky hands and rummage inside, searching for your pink pin cushion and, upon finding it, you plucked out a needle.

“You’re scaring me…” You were able to get out through trembling lips as you grab a spool of black thread.

“We will do much worse than scare you if you don’t start moving faster.” He tells you. “Do not test my capacity for violence.” He adds. “Now move.”

Slowly, you crawl over to him and kneel between his parted legs. You’re so close, you can smell him… And he smells gross… He reeks of sweat and piss, which mixes with the metallic scent of his blood, and gunpowder that lingers on his flightsuit which he now wears as pants only.

Your trembling form makes you struggle to thread the needle but after a few attempts, you succeed and unfurl much more thread than you’d realistically need. While you do so, his pistol changes grips and his right hand holds it aimed right at your head.

Slowly, you push the needle through his skin, grimacing at the wet noise it makes as you drag it through and you hold back a gag and a sob as you try your best to suture him shut. 

You don’t know much about medicine… But you’re pretty sure you’re supposed to do a ladder stitch so you can pull the thread taut at the end and ensure the injury closes… So that’s what you start doing, trying your best to not tremble all the way through it.

He’s holding himself surprisingly calmly through it as you stab his skin/wound multiple times… You risk looking up at him, your eyes still teary, your lips trembling, your face red from holding back tears and a gag. 

All you find is a pair of soulless blue eyes staring down at you through the two holes of that mask. They seem as cold and unforgiving as the snow outside… They’re bloodshot and the pupils are dilated. And he seems to be looking at you with a predatory gaze that makes you feel small and insignificant.

"Who are you...?" You ask tentatively, surprising yourself at how small your voice sounded, how meek.

"Nobody." He reply  as he leaned the pistol against your temple. “Finish.” He demands. 

Gulping and nodding, you finish the stitching and pull it taut, which earns you a hiss from him. You tie off the thread and snip it off with a pair of little scissors from the sewing supply box.

Just as you’re about to pull away from him, the needle between your pointer and middle fingers and your hands raised in an act of peace, he pistol whips you across the temple.

You squeal in pain, and throw your hands on the floor to support yourself from fully falling on your side, losing the needle somewhere in the tile floor of the kitchen. Your eyes are cloudy with tears again as you whimper in pain, unaware of what caused that violence. 

Is he going to kill you? Steal from you? Make you prisoner in your own home?

“Don’t move.” He demands. “It’s not finished.” He warns you as you struggle to get back on your sore knees.

You watch in horror as he shifts position, to no longer be kneeling on his elbow on the counter, and instead straightens up. His right hand continues pointing the gun at you and, very slowly, the left inches his flight suit down some more.

Slowly, you’re exposed to the sight a large gash across his left thigh, that draws down diagonally to his left knee which is swollen red and bruised…

As well as an obvious lack of underwear and a semi-hardened cock laying against his right thigh, the hilt surrounded by bushy blonde pubes. Your eyes double in size and you have to once again contain yourself from gagging and crying in disgust.

“Get back to work.” He demands as he points at the wounds on his leg. “And don't you dare cry." He adds. "Or else I'll give you other reasons to cry about.” He warns as his hand glides over his cock.

This is fully inspired by the beautiful work written by @391780, gotta love all the nikto ficlets and all the fat!reader stuff! Also wrote this a bit as a request by @ms-rayray who asked me for fat!reader stuff, and also a shoutout to @xxshadowbabexx and her eternal love for nikto.

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Beneath Miles of Stone XXIII

•John Wick x Plus Size Female Reader

• Howdy, I don’t know anything about guns or Russia besides the little research I’ve done. Please don’t be mad at me if I get facts wrong or say something dumb. Laughing at me, however, is completely acceptable :3. Also, I’ve been going down a rabbit hole of high table & John Wick lore for this story, and there’s lots of references to other JW media (the comics, the Continental TV series, wiki pages).

• Thank you so much everyone who is reading/commenting on/liking this story, it means a lot to me and I love you guys. I started writing this one year ago and feel like I’ve improved so, so much that it’s insane. I’ve been learning to pick out my own style and make it coherent by reading all the other brilliant fanfictions from everyone on Wickblr/Keanublr and I’m insanely grateful I found this little hole of internet. Divider is by @thecutestgrotto

• TW: blood, death, bodies, HEAVY NSFW, gore, guns.

She does, eagerly, jumps under the covers, and he tsks, pulling off his sweater with one hand. “No, honey. Spread your body out for me. I want to see you.”

She almost starts to protest, but the dark look he gives closes her mouth, and she lays flat, naked, looking anywhere but at him, pushing the blanket off on the floor to avoid its tempting sanctuary.

He chuckles. “Spread your legs, babydoll. Wider. There you go.”

She whines, fisting the bed sheets and closing her eyes tight while her pussy pulses uselessly, sure he can see the slick glittering on her lips and unkept hair.

“Look at me,” he tells her, and by god she tries despite the fact that his cock can’t get much harder without fucking exploding into pieces. He undoes his belt, then slips his jeans down, and the outline of his leaking length makes her mouth water.

God, he’s beautiful. She’ll never get used to it.

He says aloud what she thinks. “You’re beautiful. I could stare at you all night.”

She laughs. “Please don’t.”

“Why not?”

“I want you.”

“I can’t stare at you while you have me?”

“Just come here.”

“Or what?”

“I’ll cry.”

His palms catch the end of the mattress, and he kneels down by the edge. The pride he feels in light of this titillating manipulation, as if he single handedly taught her how to sin himself, should be worrying. Corruption looks so pretty while she wears it and nothing else.

He grabs for her ankle, and catches it despite screeches and giggles and protests and pulling.

The phone at their bedside rings, and his teasing teeth stop just short of her neck.

“Did you just break that?” Her fingers twirl into his beard.

He leans into her touch while they both steal an incredulous look at the landline he just ripped from the wall and threw across the room.

It’s not ringing anymore, that’s what really matters. He goes back in for flesh—will kill, with his bare hands, whoever makes his cordless sound off over her needy whimpers.

She looks up at him for a long moment, trying not to laugh or cry, and then says: “can I break that one?”

He has to go.

“Why do you wear a suit?” She asks him, fumbling with the tie.

He guides her fingers, showing her how to cinch it. “Professionalism’s sake.”

“Oh,” she smiles, tracing the indent of his cock with her thumb. “This is professional?”

They’re on the bed again, pressed in tight, tongues rolling together. He pulls away and she wipes saliva off his beard, tugs him back by the tie he just so neatly put together.

“I have to go,” he says, grinding against her, slicking up the crotch of his pants.

“Yeah,” she agrees, digging her fingers into the dip of his beautifully sloped back.

“In the Morning,” he promises, pressing her mouth against his clothed erection with palm threaded through her hair.

“Can’t have you going to work messy,” she says, eating her own cum off of his dress pants.

“You-ah, ah-John. You have to go.” As he teases open mouthed kisses up the seam of her puffy pussy, whispers praises over the den of her clit.

“Gotta go,” he grunts, lifting his hips up so she can wrestle his cock free from its confines and suckle the leaking cum from his tip.

“Can’t let you stain your nice professional pants.” She cleans him so nicely with her tongue that it creates even more of a mess.

She cleans that up, too.

“Please—please don’t stop,” she asks, arching her back, words jumbled and urgent, willing with a deep whine for the increased tempo of his tongue and fingers.

All these delicious plans he has for dominating her benevolence with the elusivity of release, reducing her to begging and bargaining and selfish demands, immediately crumble under the beautiful, breathy way she asks for an orgasm, and he growls at himself and her gushing, clenching pussy for giving in so easily. Still, he eats up her mess and brings her down nice, easy, soft, crawling up her trembling body until he can make her taste herself on his mouth, which she does eagerly and delightedly.

“Don’t go,” she says, post coital bliss somehow softening her up even more. She’s melting into the mattress and pulling him down with her, like sticky boiling sugar enveloping a curious fly.

“I have to go,” he says, clinging to her, still full on suited and with his aching cock tucked back in.

She huffs, reaches for him, to wrap those plump little fingers around where he is crying, twitching, furious.

“Just one more taste,” she asks, rubbing languidly at his pronounced head.

He is cold, calculated, unbreakable, steadfast. He has endured hours of torture and pain and blood and agony. He is an impenetrable force, the enigmatic feared entity of the Bratva, and he bucks and shivers and—

whines, pressing the sound into her throat as she smiles with pride and adoration and idly twirls his hair around her fingers.

If he were a weaker man, or maybe a stronger one, he wouldn’t unstick himself, kiss her cheek, smooth down her wild hair before pressing his face into the thick of it and memorizing the smell.

“Come back to me,” she orders, as he puts on his other shoe.

“Don’t die, okay?” She pleads, as he’s tucking guns and knives into his clothes.

He places one last kiss to the middle of her forehead, unsure of promises, unsure if he can fulfill her request. The only sure thing in his life is the tangible heat and want between them that is burning him alive. He says, after a few seconds pressed against her damp skin, “okay.”

——————-

Winston must have looked through her own closet somehow, because comfy cotton T-shirts and leggings and sweatpants are the majority of what he sent for her. She can’t stop being eternally grateful for his hospitality, despite the resistance she’s put up against it.

She takes a long, hellfire shower, winces when she gets to her pubic bone—her hips are sore, bruised, labia red and raw from beard burn. Inner thighs chafed to hell. It hurts, but she wants to keep all of it as a reminder of her John.

The Continental comes to life at night. The lights dim blue and deep red, music pumps behind colossal forbidden doorways, patrons of all ethnicities and ages and cultures accumulate at tables and cluster on lounging couches.

Bookstore library stranger greets her in the silver-coated dining room. She has a bit of alcohol on her breath and blouse. Despite this, she’s very happy to see her again.

“Hello Ella.”

“Would you like a drink? My treat. They have everything. Straight, narrow, sugar.” Ella puts her hand over her mouth and hiccups. “Excuse me. Get anything you like, dear.”

She orders simple, A fruity cocktail, and sits with Ella for a bit while hearing stories about growing up wealthy and admired. It’s so differently fascinating from her own life, these tales—she’s utterly captivated and brimming with jealousy.

Addie is here, too, graced by inhuman strength in her lithe frame, when she pulls her away from story time to speak privately.

“Do you know who that is?” Addie asks, holding two fingers up at the bar tender.

He delivers two crystal glasses of sparkling water. “She’s my friend, I met her at a bookstore. Her name is Ella.”

“Elena Jovonovick,” Addie corrects with a concerned frown and drawn eyes. “She is the head of the Ruska Roma.”

She blinks at Addie a few times, understanding curtaining over her face. “Oh…”

Addie opens her mouth, but the voice that speaks does not belong to her. Ella—Elena—sidles between them, and motions for another drink. “Addie, sweet girl, what is wrong?”

Addie’s flushed cheeks bleed all their color, but she does not tremble nor fall back despite the look of abject fear held in her face for this tiny woman.

She doesn’t understand the fear, but does understand that the woman she has become friends with is…what? John’s adoptive mother? A slew of emotions typhoon through her. The first, humor. It’s funny, that she she’s meeting his family without his knowledge. Second, anger. Anger because this is the person who took tiny, defenseless, innocent John—her John—and turned him into a harbinger of death.

She starts to say something seething, something that she will regret later, but when she looks at Ella and opens her mouth, she sees a familiar expression—sorrow, regret, profound sadness. Like an abandoned, filthy dog on the street corner. And her jaw snaps back into place.

“Please,” Ella says, sipping at her drink. “I need John Wick’s help.”

—————————————

The doctor was right, he is distracted and sloppy. A mind at war. A hit that glances off someone’s sternum, not killing them. A failed attempt at kicking one of his colleagues away from a butterfly in the femoral.

He grabs some flyaway blood, throws it in the knife wielder’s face, then presses a bullet into his skull.

He tugs a foam plug from his ear to hear what Marcus is yelling from across the room. It’s done, anyway. Twenty two men in, twenty two men out. He wipes sweat off his brow and leans against the cool wall to bring himself back to baseline.

“Did you hear me, John?”

“Yeah, I heard you.”

But he didn’t, and still doesn’t, occupied by the message on his phone that blackens his vision around the edges—whether in fear or rage, he cannot tell.

Rage is simple, clean and cut, as slick as the jacketed bullet he sunk into the skull of Yuri Morozov when one of his bodyguards flexed their finger on a trigger.

“The car’s loaded with dynamite,” Marcus says, swiping some sulphur off his cheekbone, panting from the jog over. “What—what’s wrong?”

It’s an unusual conversation to have while splattered with blood and surrounded by the bodies spilling it. Marcus continues despite the situation.

“Jesus Christ, tell me why you look like that.”

John blinks at him, almost asks him to explain what expression he sees and this concerned reaction to it. He already knows, though, doesn’t he? That his face has become a breeding ground for pesky emotions. “Elena Jovonovick is staying at the New York Continental.”

“Who—“ Marcus guffaws in disbelief. “Who told you that?”

“Does it matter?”

“No—what the fuck. Where are you going?”

“Back home.”

“You can’t kill her John! You can’t kill the head of the fucking Ruska Roma! You know that?” Marcus takes a few leaps after him, but ultimately decides against intervention.

“Where is he going?” Kirill asks over the earpiece when he first hears the snarling squeal, then sees John’s mustang peel onto the boulevard.

“Diarrhea,” Marcus replies.

[sopiao]

could i request a human heat pack reader with our favorite 141 boys?

i’m very unusually warm. like every time i travel to russia to see family my mom and brother always use me as human heat pack.

have a great day!!

i just had this idea >:0

(great minds think alike >:)).

it would be so cute, they’d be so unconsciously touchy just to try to warm their hands during a mission in a cold area. where? Siberia. i don’t know that was just at the top of my head.

(Callsign: ‘Shark’ :3)

When they first land their all already swaddled like babies in layers of clothes. A long sleeve, whatever t-shirt, thin jacket with a thicker one over it, extra layers of socks. Whatever could spare them of the harsh winter of the country.

Their all huddled in a position to try and conserve warmth. Except for Price who insist that “It’s not that cold” and to “Get over it already”. But they can all see his subtle shake in his crossed arms pose.

“You got a heat pack or something?” Gaz asked, cupping his hands over his mouth, hoping to get some warmth from his breath. Seeing Shark’s still and relaxed figure like this weather was nothing. Gaz was hoping that they’d had an extra one and could toss one to him.

“No?” They shook their head and began to look around. Kicking snow to kill time when they hear their captain speak to a local about directions.

“Jesus, fuck. How are you not freezing you’re arse off?” Soap asks, pulling the collar of his jacket higher to cover more of his neck. Shark just shrugs. They really don’t know how. It just didn’t bother them as much. It was sorta cool since it fit their name, sharks can change their body temp to a certain range to adapt to their surroundings.

Gaz wasn’t even thinking, just desperate for warmth. Taking his chances for even a bit of comfort, he stood closer to your side, leaning on you with his cheek to your temple. Once he felt the small relief from the sudden cold, he leaned in more, covering more body surface. Relaxing, the more he did the more toasty he started to feel.

“Ahh-” Gaz sighed silently, Shark patted his back to further comfort him. Soap and Ghost looked at the two, who looked like a couple trying to keep themselves warm as an excuse to cuddle in public, then back at each other, silently questioning what to do or say, or if they should.

Soap shrugged and did the same to your other side, sighing in relief when the harsh and tight coldness of the snow felt like ice cream melting in the sun when he felt Shark’s body heat. Shark didn’t move but just shifted their eyes to see him. Couldn’t do anything but accept their fate.

Ghost is naturally a cranky and grumpy guy already and chilly, an understatement, atmosphere didn’t simmer him down a bit. He didn’t even try to fight it or reason with his thoughts and subsided. Wrapping his arms around their middle and resting his chin on the top of their head. Sighing when he felt his comrade’s warm back defrost him (hehe). Sighing for them was like the unconscious ‘ding’ to the microwave when your food finishes heating up.

Shark can’t really move even if they wanted to. Plus who wouldn’t wanna be sandwiched between three beefy guys?

“A’ight team. It shouldn’t be too far from here—” Price cut himself off, seeing his soldiers surround one like an overstuffed burrito. He crossed his arms, not registering that they were using Shark for warmth and just randomly decided to simultaneously bear hug them at the same time. Even Simon was joining in.

“Wha— Why?— What’s happening?” Price chuckled slightly, more out of confusion than amusement, crossing his arms once again with the subtle shake from the natural instinct of his body to find energy for heat.

“Warm” Only thing that Soap says, short but filling explanation. Causing Price to chuckle even more. Shark brings their hands forward, offering a fraction of their warmth to their captain, since it’s really the only thing that’s not occupied. Price holds their hands, at first to humor them, once he felt how unusually warm their hands are at this weather. He unconsciously lifted their hands up to his face, toasty palms pressed up against his cheeks.

—

“Fuckin’ hell” Price whispered under his breath before thanking the citizen for her time and cooperation, grumbling about the lead being a dead end. Price calls out for his teammates, signaling to continue on.

“Back to bloody square one” Soap grumbled, cranky from all the running around they had to do to catch one guy.

Both Price and Gaz immediately reached for your hand. At this point they didn’t even care, or notice what they were doing. It was just a natural instinct to swarm towards anything slightly warmer. Shark didn’t mind though, swinging their hands as they walked.

Two girls walking past them. Having to do a double take when they see the three. Before looking at each other wordless message of ‘How lucky!’.

—

During the cramped car ride, both Soap and Ghost had their heads resting on Shark. Soap resting his head on their shoulder, having to slump down slightly, while Ghost rested his temple on the top of their head. Both soldiers clinging onto and hugging on their arm for more cozy protection.

—

As Shark, Gaz, and Price watched and waited Soap and Ghost from across the building. They finally got a lead on the perp but if they all went in at once it would seem suspicious. They all watched intently, Gaz starting to get more bored.

Price unconsciously wrapping his arm around Shark, pressing them close to keep himself warm, resting his head on theirs as he got bored too. Shark figured out a while ago not to be too bothered with how clingy their being, figuring out that their just a human heater for them.

[the-froschamethyst4]

My Daddy is My Hero

𖤐Pairing: Husband! Price x Wife! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: TOOTH ROTTING fluff, slight angst, language, married couple, children, codenames,

𖤐Summary: Your daughter Iris had a project for her school and it was ‘Who is your Hero’ and picks someone close to her

————

————

"Mama."

Y/n heard the tiny voice of her 7 year-old daughter Iris. She smiles and turns to look at her daughter.

"Yes, baby?" Y/n asks.

"We're doing a project for school, called 'My Hero' and I decided to do daddy, can you help me?" Iris asks.

"Okay, what do you need me to do?" Y/n says, wiping her hands and placing her hands on her hips walking to her daughter.

"What did daddy do?"

"For the military?" Iris nods in response. "Well, why don't I help you with your paper first, okay?"

"Okay, mama."

"Alright let me see what you got."

This was a week ago, Y/n helped Iris with her paper for hours and kept the project a secret from John.

"My Hero is my daddy, John Bravo Six Price. My daddy was part of the Military as a Captain, he is also the member of the British SAS. Sometimes my daddy is away for months, and I miss every time he leaves, but he tells me he'll come back safe and he always brings me a souvenir from his adventures." She digs in her backpack and pulls out a few things to show off.

"This is a picture of my daddy and some of his work friends, this one is Ghost and this one is Gaz." She puts them back and then grabs a few things that Price has brought back for her.

"This is a mini pyramid, when he went to Egypt. This is a tin art piece from Mexico, they traditionally have art of landscapes of them and pretty flowers. And this is stein from Germany, they usually put their drinks in it." She puts everything back in her bag.

"My daddy is currently in Russia right now and is coming back today, I am excited to see my daddy, and he is my hero."

"Wow! Thank you Iris for sharing, a round of applauds for Iris," her teacher says.

--------

At the end of the day Iris had walked outside to see her mom standing in the car rider line.

"MAMA!"

"Hi, baby," Y/n bends down kissing her daughter's temple, Y/n noticed her paper in her hands. "What's this baby?" Y/n asked.

"My paper for my hero, I got a 100% and a gold star," Iris smiles.

"That's great baby," Y/n kissed her daughter's temple again, before they walked to Y/n's car.

"Mama, is daddy coming home today?"

"Yep," Y/n says, buckling her daughter in her car seat.

----------

Once Y/n pulled into the driveway and helped her daughter out of her car seat they go inside and Y/n placed Iris's paper on the fridge, so when John comes in, he'll see it.

--------

Iris and Y/n played some board games before Price came home. Price was stuck in traffic and just wanted to go home to his family, Y/n smiled at her daughter who was still trying to understand the rules of the game.

"Honey you move 4 spaces."

"But when I play with Anna, she says I'm suppose to move 8 times."

"Why?" Y/n asked with a confused look and a slight giggle.

"Because four plus four equals eight."

"Honey, you're not adding anything. What you roll is what you roll, you rolled a four so you move four places."

"Okay, mama," Iris says with no more argument.

"Daddy has finally arrived," John says as he comes through the front door, Iris pops her head up and Y/n looks over her shoulder at her husband.

"DADDY!" Iris yells, running towards him. He drops his stuff and picks her up.

"How is my baby girl, huh?" He asks Iris kissing her cheek.

"Good," Y/n gets up off the floor and walks over to him, her hands running over his shoulders and hugging his neck.

"And how is mommy doing?" He asked in a bit of a seductive tone before kissing Y/n's lips.

"Just fine." She says to him.

"Oh daddy, look," Iris wiggled from his hold and ran to the fridge, pulling the paper off the fridge.

"What's this?" He asks her, looking at the 100% with his usual big smile and then reading 'My Hero'. "Oh...I remember doing a project like this when I was younger, my hero was Aunt," he smiles and bends down to his daughter. "Who was yours, baby?" He asks.

"Read it daddy," she giggles and hands him the paper.

"My hero is my..." Price looks at it thinking maybe he was reading it wrong. "My daddy...Captain John Bravo Six Price." He reads the papers, tears wanting to fall from his eyes but he held them, choking on some of the words.

Iris hated seeing her father so upset...The last time she's seem him upset is when her grandpa passed away. Iris took her small hand wiping her daddy's tears that did soon fall on his cheeks.

The sight melted Y/n's heart. Price's big hand cupped hers and kissed her knuckles.

"Thank you, baby," he says, pulling her into the biggest and longest hug. "This deserves to be framed," he jokes and looks at his wife who has been crying since Price started reading the paper. He pulls her into a hug as well.

----------

9:00PM

Price couldn't help but constantly re-reading the paper, he was laying in bed, Y/n was doing her nightly routine and Iris was asleep peacefully in her bed.

"John?"

"Why did she pick me?" He asked.

"Because she loves you," Y/n says, crawling on the bed.

She cups his face and kissed his lips. "Did she tell you, she was going to pick me?"

"Yes...but...she loves you...she loves the little things you bring back for her, she took one of your bucket hats to school because she missed you so much. You are her hero, Price and you always will be, I hope you know that."

----------

Price couldn't sleep, he looks at the ceiling and then at his sleeping wife next to him, he caresses her face kissing her forehead and getting out of the bed. He puts on a t-shirt and headed down the hall

He goes to the kitchen, he notices the light on in the kitchen and then seeing a little someone with a glass in her hands.

"Iris...baby, what are you doing up?" He asked.

"I can't sleep, and I was thirsty," Iris says, looking up at him, but he bends down to her level. She walks to him, his arms wrapping around her as she was still holding her glass of water.

"Come on, baby," he rubs her side and kiss her temple as she followed him back to her bedroom. He opens her bedroom door and she walks in, placing her glass on the nightstand and getting back into her bed but Price rests on her right side of her.

"Daddy."

"Yes?"

"Can you stay home, tomorrow?" Iris asked, looking at her daddy. She rolls on her side and plays with his dog tags.

"I can see," he says, placing his arm over her side rubbing her side again and patting her small leg.

Iris's eyes felt heavy, and she ended up falling asleep, Price looked to his right and looked down at his tired, sleeping daughter, he smiles kissing the top of her head.

He ends up falling asleep in Iris's bed, Y/n woke up to an empty bed and walked to her daughter's bedroom seeing a sleeping Price and Iris.

Price holding Iris and her face buried into his side. She smiles at her husband and baby girl, she walks in kissing his forehead and kissing Iris's temple.

--------

The next morning Y/n and Iris were in the kitchen and Price was still asleep in his daughter twin size bed. Iris's princess blanket draped over him.

Y/n pushed a mug of hot chocolate to Iris and Y/n stood next to Iris to help her with homework. Price had came out of his daughter's bedroom yawning and looking at his daughter and wife.

He kisses Y/n's neck and kisses Iris's forehead, he fixes himself some tea and leans over the counter watching his two girls.

Iris was writing down what Y/n was telling her, Y/n's right hand moved Iris's dirty blonde hair from her face, looking like the girl version of her father but the feminine features of her mother.

Price sees the paper on 'My Hero' on the counter and placed it back on the fridge, he kisses his daughter's temple and wife's temple before walking into the master bedroom and grabbing his phone.

He was going to fulfil his daughter's wishes and he will stay home today.

[notlhecxzsa]

Wings - N.R

An angel on earth? Sounds very impossible for the avengers, especially to Natasha who doesn't believe that god exists, but the most impossible that had happened was what Natasha felt. Love.

Warnings 🚫: None.

~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~~°~°~°~°~°~°~~°~°~°

Natasha's POV:

"An angel?" I ask, disbelief and amusement is lacing through my voice, as Fury debrief us on a new mission.

"Yes, Romanoff, it was last seen in russia, we don't know where as we can't find it, but we know it's just in the perimeters in some parts of ohio." Fury explained once again.

"How can you say it's an angel? Does it have wings?" Tony ask, genuinely confused like me.

"It is, but words are not enough, so i brought the video. Friday, can you show them the video i inserted earlier?" Fury said, in wich the a.i commanded to.

A video was shown to us, and we watched it with full of disbelief, but i know we're all amuse by this. It was caught from a CCTV, flying around, and walking on some part of russia, clearly looking lost, it seems like she's a girl, but i can't really guess as it's slightly blurry.

"How can you be so sure that it's really an angel, or that video is real, and not just edited by some random person?" Vision ask, completely not believing what he is seeing.

"Do you think we didn't scanned it all over and checked it twice if it's real or not, Vision? If it's not real, i wouldn't have come here to waste my time. Now suit up, we don't have time, we have an angel to get." Fury said in a hurry, and called Steve, maybe to debrief him because he's the captain.

We all went to our own rooms to change, and pack the things that we would need until we found this angel.

________________________________

"Are you sure that it's here, Stark?" I heard Steve whispered on the comms.

We're now here at an abandoned building, somewhere in russia. It's out first day here, not wanting to waste our time, we decided to start looking. But, i know, many of us are just too excited to see the winged creature.

I mean, we know gods are real. But, we've never seen an angel, so...

"Yes, i see the radiation and heat, and it's not very human. It's all alone, just keep moving forward, then take left when you're at the end." I heard Tony said, once again through comms, but i payed no mind on his instructions, as sometimes he could be wrong, plus, its like my feet have their own brain, its moving where it wants to be.

Tony, Wanda, Vision are on the air, while me, Steve, Sam, Bucky and Peter are inside the building where Stark and Vision had detected something. Thor and Loki are not here, since something came up in Asgard.

An unfamiliar quiet sniffle stopped me from walking, as my head whipped around on the direction where it came from. Walking slowly, not making any sounds, i heard the sniffles turned louder, following by a shuffling.

I stopped at the end corner, taking deep breaths before walking left. And my breath caught on my throat as soon as i saw a girl, curled up in ball, wearing a white dress, with gold lacing through it, she has no shoes or slippers to cover up her feet, and it actually looks sore and have cuts already.

I can't clearly see her face, because of her long hair covering her face. She has a pale skin and-.

Oh shit.

I was snapped out off of my trance as soon as i realized and saw her looking at me. Pale white skin, pink plump lips, that is wobbling and quivering, a well defined small cute nose, and god, those deep brown eyes. She's looking at me with full of fear and confusion.

My face turned into a frown when i didn't see any wings, where's the fucking wings?

Maybe she's not the angel?

"Hey..." I started, taking a step forward but soon stopped when i saw her afraidly shuffled backwards. "It's okay, i won't hurt you, okay?..." I was again, met by silence as she kept scanning me through her lashes, knees buckled up to her chest, with her arms hugging it.

"My name's Natasha, Natasha Romanoff, and im here to help you..." I said ever so gently, then trying to take a step forward, but, this time, thankfully, she didn't backed away, so i took it as an advantage to reach out my arms, but still not invading her personal space.

"Your feet is bruised, and it's clear that you need help, is it okay to touch you? Don't worry, i won't do anything, i just need to touch you so i can help you..." I explained softly, looking at her with gentle eyes and a small smile, reaching out my hand more as i took another step.

I saw her look to my hands, then my face, trying to contemplate if ever i mean any harm or not, i just wish im doing a good job on being soft and gentle as this is the first time im ever like this.

"M-my n-name's Y/n..." Oh god, her voice, i felt myself so lulled at it.

"Oh wow, that's a very beautiful name, Y/n..." At that, i caught the blushed on her face, but thought nothing out of it, so i continued, "Okay, how about i carry you to where we are going, or do you want to walk instead? Don't worry, we're just gonna go to my friends so they can treat you wounds, they're nice, they can be noisy and annoying, but they're nice." I said as i pulled a face, which i think made her snort a laugh a little.

"Now, come on, Y/n. Would you like to come with me?" I ask softly, with encouraging eyes and smile. I saw wheels running through her mind, a few seconds her eyes flash a glint of something trustful.

I smiled, as i saw her hands reach up to mine slowly, but it was soon stopped, and we're both startled when the loud boom of Tony's voice called my name.

"Aye! Romanoff! What are you- Oh..." The realization soon hit her, and i look back at Y/n, silently cursing Tony under my breath as i saw her all curled up again.

"Is that the angel?" Tony ask so casually, walking over to us.

My head snapped at his direction, glaring at him, and putting a hand up to stop him from walking, which he did. I look back again at Y/n, my hand is still in the air.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, it's just my friend... I told you they can be noisy and all annoying, but they're nice. Come on, Y/n, you don't have to be scared, don't worry, I'll stay by your side if you want me to." I said gently, to make her look up, which i successfully did.

She look at Tony, who sent her a smile, and me, who smiled softly at her.

"There you go, see, he's nice...Now come on, here..." I said, and stop myself mid sentence to take my shoes off, and show it infront of her. "Wear this so your feet won't hurt." I said, and she frowned.

"W-what a-about you? You-you're feet w-will hurt..." She said, and before i can answer i look at Tony and sent him a small nod, which he returned with one before flying off.

"No, don't worry about me, i have socks, now come on, it's getting abit dark and it's cold here, don't you think so?" I said, reaching up my hand for her to take.

"I- uh, i don't k-know how t-to put those o-on...." She quietly that i can barely even hear it.

"Oh, it's okay i can help you. Can i touch you?" I ask, and i smiled when i received a nod.

She stretched out her foots, until it's enough for me to put the shoes on. I carefully put it on her, trying not to hurt her because of the bruises.

The idea of finding the angel is now long gone, all i want is to get her out of here, save her and give her what she needs.

"There you go.." I said softly, slightly chuckled when i saw how big it is compared to her feet.

"It's big..." She said and wiggled her feet, which made me laugh and think about how cute it is.

"It is, isn't it? Now, let's go, Y/n, we've got to get going." I said, and stand up then reach out my hand for her to take, which she took.

The moment our skin touched, i felt how soft and smooth her skin, but the sudden small electric wave can't be unnoticed by me. Instead of overthinking it, i just lead us to where the quinjet is.

My left hand is on her lower back, and i was holding her hands with my right hand. I can tell that she need some support, so i just let her lean on me. But, i can't help but worry on how much her feet might have hurt, so without thinking, i ask her,

"Do you want me to carry you?" I ask, stopping our walk.

"W-what- i-, n-no, it's umm, it's fine, im fine." She stuttered, but i picked her up either way, causing her to let out a squeal.

Continuing our walk, ignoring the slight pain that the ground is causing my feet. She's surprisingly not that heavy, and i can't feel any wings on her back either, making me think again, if ever she's the angel or not. Choosing not to ask her, not wanting to make her uncomfortable, i continued walking towards the quinjet, where the team are waiting for me.

"Look, there they are..." I said to Y/n, causing her to look at the team, who is looking at us.

I saw her cheeks burned, and put her head on my shoulder, avoiding my friend's gaze.

"It's okay, they won't hurt you, i promise. I'm here, I'll stay by your side.

_________________________________

No one's POV:

1 month.

It has now been 1 month since they took you in, you stayed in a cell in the first 2 weeks, but with your harmless and innocent actions proved them that you brought no harm to them, especially to Natasha.

From the very first day you were brought in to the SHIELD facility, she tried everything in her power to not let Fury lock you in, but unfortunately, he's the director, and she knows he's just doing what needs to done. She didn't even know why she wouldn't want you being all locked up like a prisoner as she didn't even know a single thing about you, but something inside her bubbled with protection at the thought of you.

Natasha had always been there with you, just like how she promised. It made you more comfortable around her, making her almost the closest thing you have, after you watch with your own eyes how the devil killed your family.

They always tried to take some words out of you, asking here and there if you're an angel, as they don't want to make you take a medical test, as you are still clearly inside a traumatic phase. They can see it by how you act, the way you flinched, and get scared easily was enough to make Natasha's heart break, it even almost made Fury soft.

You gave them no answer, you gave them zero answer to all of their so many questions. Afraid that they would do something bad to you, because that all you felt, as soon as your parents put you in that pod and landed here, you have no one to protect you.

Here, on this planet, you're not the princess who you used to be, you're a complete stranger from the other side of the universe, a complete naive stranger who knows nothing about the human beings, an angel who were hidden by her royalty parents, in order to 'protect' you from the cruelness of the multiverse.

You felt completely alone, almost as lost.

But, with Natasha by your side, you felt safe, comfortable. With Natasha by your side, you didn't felt lonely, she even made you smile and laugh with her corny dad jokes. She taught you so many things, even the board games you both always played whenever you two would always hangout, which is everyday.

Well, Natasha being Natasha, who is a like a daughter to Fury, he commanded Natasha's wish on becoming you guard, helper, guidance and all. Fury saw how you were whenever you're with Natasha, so he knows that agreeing with Natasha's wishes was not a bad idea.

You identity is still hidden, even to Natasha, but you know that sooner or later, you are gonna tell her who you are. I mean, she's been a really great company- friend to you, she's always there for you, and she showed no harm or any signs of betrayal to you, so you know that in any other way, you could trust her with your life.

Now, in the present time, you're with Natasha, getting ready to go to the 'amusement park', saying she wants you to have fun, as you were lock in a four walls for 2 weeks, but, mostly and truthfully, she wants you to have fun, she wants to hear you laugh and smile more, she wants you to discover more things.

She almost felt bad when she heard that you know nothing about amusement parks, i mean, you clearly know nothing, as you were always lock up in your room at the castle you lived. With guards and maids always following you and all, the places you go are limited, you're almost not allowed to go anywhere far without your parents.

"You ready to go, detka?" The red head asked you with a smile, eyeing you up and down, almost making you shrink down with the way she looks at you.

You're wearing a denim high waisted shorts, and Natasha's hoodie, which is big compared to your body, it was almost hiding your hands, and it all the way down to you upper knee, and a converse high tops. You always steal her clothes, even though she already buy you enough clothes- which you are very thankful for- you can't help but feel more comfortable with hers, and ofcourse, Natasha lets you, she always thought about you it looked better on you than it did to her.

"Yes, all ready!" You said excitedly, slightly jumping on your toes.

"Okay, come on, i already started the car." She stated, reaching out her hand for you to take which you did.

_______________________________

The night to the amusement park is full of joy, happiness and laughter, with Natasha being your favorite game player on game booths. The both of you would play games here and there, but unfortunately for you, you always lose, that's why she decided to take it in her own hands to play it, which ended, thankfully, very well. She won all the prizes you wanted, and ofcourse, Natasha being Natasha, she gave it all to you, she spoiled you rotten.

There's one game that she won two prizes, the firing gun game, where the player will have a pellet gun, and the player needs to shoot the plastic cups. And obviously, being a very well veterinarian agent, ex-assassin and ex-spy, who is constantly saving the word using only a fire arm, she cleared all the plastic cups out of the way, leading her to a winning game.

The intimate loving gesture and signs between the two of you is completely unconscious, not that you didn't want it, you love it.

The way you hands would automatically entangle, the way the both of you would hug, witch occasionally kissing each others forehead and cheeks whenever a game that you- Natasha had played, turned out winning it. The way the both of you would occasionally feed each other with their own foods, smiling at each other unconsciously, and completely getting lost in it.

Now, you both are sitting side by side, in a ride called 'The Dream Twister', Natasha didn't really wanted to join, apart from being a not really fan of this things, she didn't want people seeing 'The Black Widow' sitting on a ride, being all smiley and laughy. But, with your face, and with the reassurance she received from you, she immediately gave in.

"Already?!" A loud excited voice came out from the speaker, making the people who's also on the ride with the boat you, scream 'yes' with excitedness, including you, while Natasha just chuckled, still holding you hand tightly.

"Very nice, beautifuls, the ride is getting started in...3....2....1! Get ready to get you dream twisted!" The voice came out just as excited as it is earlier.

The vehicle machine started, making your giddiness run up high. It started out slowly, then after some time, you could feel the adrenaline rushing through you body, as it started to get more faster. By then, the people you're with, started screaming, including you, while Natasha just shut her eyes close, and tightened her grip on you hand.

As time passes by, the ride started to be more aggressively fast, and somehow, you started to feel something off. You felt the way how the securing belts started to loosen, same with Natasha.

It all went so fast, people screaming, the belt automatically loosening off the making it's way up to you heads, making the people around you feel off. And you, not thinking of anything except Natasha, hugging her body tight, as your most kept secret freely escaped behind you back. Flying off to somewhere unsecluded, just the two of you, fear that you might scare people off, just how you will might scare Natasha off.

You're arms around her middle part, your head on her chest, with close eyes as you hug her tight, you wings automatically wrapping itself around her. While Natasha, clings to you just the same, but her eyes wide, with so many thoughts running through her mind.

Tears started to flow out of you eyes, for a few minutes of being frozen in same position as you did.

Fear of losing your best friend, the only person you have, the one who you found yourself feeling something romantic for. You can't lose her, you don't want to, not now, not ever. She's the only one you have, you can't bear losing her too.

Your sniffles, and choked sobs brought Natasha out of her trance, the feeling of disbelief (not in the bad way) is not changed with worry. The feeling of your white, with a trace of gold colored wings around her, made her feel safe, the most safest she felt for the first time, she almost wants to stay like that, but when she felt your wings started to fall solemnly on the ground, her worry started to grow.

"Hey, hey, hey, what's wrong, lyubov?" She as softly, almost a whisper that it almost bring you to a very much needed comfort. But it's still no use, as the thought of losing her, being scared and disgusted of you, started to grow.

"P-please, d-don't leave me, i-im not b-bad, i-i promise, please, don't...l-leave me, Natasha...." You begged in between of you broken sobs.

Natasha felt her heart ache as she felt your body rocked by the sobs you made, the way you desperately beg her to not leave you, the way thought she would think badly of you after this revelation.

Ofcourse, she wouldn't, she could not do that to you, she won't leave you, even if the gods themselves decided to part the both of you, she will not let you go. You're the best thing that had happened to her, you gave her a much bigger meaning to be alive, and stay alive on the missions she had gone.

"Natty, p-please, p-please, i-i can explain-" You choked out, still hugging her tightly

You don't need to explain anything to her, you didn't need to. Because, she already knows, from the first time you both met in that abandoned building, she knows.

She just didn't want to share it, and decided to keep it to herself, she didn't even told you, nor her best friend, Clint. She gave you no signs that she knows you're different, she treated you just the same like when you both met. Even with those so many interrogations that you hate, she didn't speak a word on knowing that she knows.

She wanted you to said it yourself, she didn't want you to rush into things that you don't want to, she didn't want you to do something you're not open and comfortable with. For a spy, and an ex-assassin like, who was thought that love is only for children, for someone like her who knew nothing about love, she is the most understanding person, the most lovable person in her own way.

"Hey, hey, can you look at me?" She ask softly, rubbing your back and arm, asking for your attention which she received.

You pulled away you head to look at her, but still not letting her figure go out of you arms.  You saw how she smiled when your eyes met under the starry night, you saw no expression of disgust and fear in her eyes, she didn't looked at you the way those people looked at you when you first landed her on earth.

She looks at you like you're the most fragile thing she had seen, she looks at you with so much love and adoration, she looks at you as if her eyes speaks so much word that you couldn't seem to understand, but you know, it's a good thing, an amazing thing even.

"You have nothing to worry about, angel. I'm not gonna leave you, not now, not ever, no matter what happens. And stop thinking that im scared of you because of this..." She motioned her hands around your wings. "Because no, im not scare, nor disgusted, im not thinking of anything bad to you, understand that, my angel?" She explained softly, caressing your cheek lightly as she did so.

My angel.

The way she said your specie came out so perfectly, she said it with so much passion and love, you can heart it rolling of her tounge. And you know by then, it's now you're favorite word from her.

"Y-yes, Natty, i-im sorry i lied-" She cut you off.

"Shhh, it's okay, it's all fine, you didn't want to say it so why would i need you to say to me what you really are? You don't have anything to apologize for, sweetheart. Besides i already knew, so, i don't want to hear any apologize from you about this, okay?" She ask, and you nodded as she wipe you cheeks.

"But, still, you haven't done anything but be good and kind to me, Natty, i still should've atleast told you-" Once again, you were cut off by her.

"Shhh, shhh,you didn't need to tell me anything that you don't want to, okay? Do you understand me, dove?" She ask and you nodded.

After that, a complete comfortable silence fell at you surface, neither of you wanted to say anything, as once again, like the both of you always do, you got lost in each other's eyes. Both green and the deep brown eyes, glimmering under the moonlight with so much love.

So much love that even the gods from the above will be shy to break the two of you apart from each other, oh, how pure your love with each other, for forever and eternity.

_____________________________

Want a part 2?

Damnnn, this one is 4000 words.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

RED-WING BLACKBIRDS AND DARK DAHLIAS (XVII)

|| COV MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER XVIII ||

PAIRING: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x F!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 4.3k

WARNINGS: Blood, wounds, angst, guns/weapons, injury, abduction, talks of abduction, talk of interrogations, protective/worried Gaz, Gaz's POV, etc.

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

They called him back to the US the second word got out that you and your mother were gone, and all through the flight, Kyle couldn’t stop clenching and unclenching his hands.

His eyes stared straight ahead, jaw so tight that he could feel his molars screaming at him to let off the pressure. All he did was bite down harder. Leg jumping in one of the metal seats of the C-17, the Sergeant had already run through his gear multiple times just to try and pull some semblance of surety from them—a weight of normalcy. 

He had his magazines, he had his med pouch, and lines connecting his radio. Straps and ties, scissors next to wire cutters. 

None of his mind games were helping. He couldn’t run through his mental checklist any more than he already had; having to be up into the twenties of times he’d counted through items and packed goods. Kyle was always steady—he was always ready. Yet, he can’t say he’d ever been as thrown off his course as he had when he got the hurried phone call from Laswell. 

They’re gone. Get back here as soon as possible. 

There hadn’t been a moment of peace afterward—the man doesn’t even think he’s slept, much less eaten beyond a granola bar and a sip of water. Price had been side-eyeing him since his impromptu interrogation session back in Russia; the blatant disregard of orders. He’d been less than impressed about it, even if it had hailed them the answers they’d been looking for.

Gaz can’t even care to remember the hissed words he’d been passed in the car back to base—can’t think beyond the heavy-set fear in his breast. His heart beat hard in his ribcage, like a hammer shattering glass. The man’s eyes are beady and small. His shoulders wound high.

With a small growl under his breath, Kyle moves his spine back stiffly to connect with the back of the seat, feet resetting themselves. 

Johnny, across the way, spares him a glance, lips thinning. Over the noise is the hard assurance. “She’ll be fine, Mate, yeah? Just focus on gettin’ down there and finding ‘er.”

“Right,” brown eyes aren’t able to convey the same hope, and Gaz says the word on autopilot. He doesn’t want to talk—he needs to move. A man of intelligence brought down to the level of sprinting head first onto the scene because of a single woman. 

The Scot frowns, sharing a glance with Price. It isn’t any use, they know the Sergeant is restless. 

Even as the plane is landing, Garrick’s skin is stiff across his skull, scars pulling tight. When the cargo hold is open, he’s the first off the ramp. 

Kate waits impatiently a small distance away, eyes grim.

“Laswell!” Gaz calls, jogging lightly away from the friction in the air from the C-17. The woman stares at him, blue eyes glancing back as Price catches up easily. The last two follow, bringing down the bags with their gear plus Garricks. Kyle licks his lips before speaking, sunglasses at the collar of his vest swinging. 

“How did this happen?” He hisses, teeth bared. “Bloody hell, you said Alex was on her—I was told she would be under twenty-four-hour watch.”

“Sergeant,” Kate levels. “There’s been more activity here than I’d like to admit.” Her attention shifts to the Captain, who slips up and speaks stiffly. 

“What’s the situation, Kate?” 

“John,” the woman sighs, tilting her head. “It’s good you’re all here—we need as many eyes on this as possible. Follow me.”

“Kate,” Garrick moves forward, but a firm hand snaps to his shoulder, keeping him back. John’s unblinking eyes dig. The correction was as clear as day: show some respect—the information was coming. It wouldn’t help to rush into things, and, under that heavy blue gaze, Kyle won’t. 

When had the Sergeant forgotten his training?

Gaz darts his head forward and clenches his jaw in thin understanding.  

The flight from Russia back to Chicago was over thirteen hours, all four men were tired from running in circles and the time difference. But the job was the job. Gaz would drink as much caffeine as needed, even if he knew that he needed the rest more than anything, if not for his body then for his mind. The meeting room was a short and quick distance—the door barely shut and locked before business began in its regular grisly fashion. 

Gaz refused to sit, instead standing with his hands hanging from his combat vest, thumbs tapping in a repeated, and obviously anxious, manner. 

He needed to find you—safe. Alive. He needed to, and he can’t describe why out loud. The man had thought that maybe your lack of a phone call the night previous had been because of general fatigue and sickness; it would make sense with how you’d been nauseous all the time. On a few calls, you’d been falling asleep mid-sentence.

The flashing images of you possibly injured, bloodied, or even dead, left Gaz’s throat clearing quickly; face going from rage to fear to panic in a split second before forcing itself back to a practiced nothingness he reserved for interrogations. Except it felt like he was the one in the chair this time around. 

Please, he thinks. Please, for the love of God, let her be okay. Fuck…this never should have happened. 

He never should have left.

Laswell starts explaining just as the Captain lets off a grunted sentence. “What’s going on?”

“I went after her, but by the time I heard the gunshot, it was already too late.” The woman shakes her head. “This base was on an entire lockdown—no one was allowed close to our building.”

“Gunshot?” Gaz takes a step forward, head leaning closer as if he’d heard wrong. The others move past it, knowing there’s more. “Why was there already a lockdown in place?”

“Any cameras?” Ghost asks, partially interrupting. His intimidating form looms near the corner, casually leaning against the wall. 

“That’s why I called you back so quickly,” Kate breathes. “Look.” The laptop is grabbed from the side of the main table and dragged over as everyone mulls around. “I didn’t want to risk it over an open channel. Who knows who could be listening.”

“Kate?” John asks, a bit confused as the man’s legs shift weight. “Listening? Who are we talking about?”

“That fellow?” MacTavish asks, glancing at the others curiously. “Chiyou, was it?”

“If it is,” the woman breathes, “then every one of my hunches is proved right.” Blue eyes dart up as the projector whirs to life from above. The light blinks on, shining to the white screen along the wall. “No one else has seen this, and I’d like to keep it that way, boys. All of it from this point forward is completely Black. Off the books.”

“Then let's get to it,” Gaz states firmly, nearly shaking from inaction. His attitude is snappy; body eager to move. He has to do something. “We’re wasting time, Laswell. Every moment is a second lost where Spitfire could be hurt—”

“We all know how much you care, Kyle,” a stern face bares down into his, but the Sergeant’s gaze doesn’t falter for one instant. “But this is far more complicated than anything we’ve encountered before.” A pause. “Focus.”

“I am focused, Ma’am,” Gaz utters, clenching his hands again, feeling the scrape of rough material from his vest. His eyes are sparking with rage, brimming with a deadly promise. “Lazer.” 

“Good,” Is the easy response. “Because you’ll want to see this.”

The first image Gaz sees is you, and for that small instant, his pounding pulse stutters like a schoolboy. The grainy motion of your body as you sit down into the seat outside, placing down your journal and your laptop…brown eyes finch closed in confusion. 

Journal? 

Wasn’t that your father’s? When did you find that? Kyle’s mind runs, but all he can settle on is the possibility of you finding it back at your estate…and never mentioning it to him. Despite it all, there’s a quick flicker of something like a smirk across his lips before he watches you cough into your arm through the video. From there, though, Gaz’s attention becomes sharper, honing in like a blade the longer nothing happens.

Kyle studies every frame—every shift from the bushes and your hands pulling out your coin from your pocket, the item glinting in the low light. He’d never got to ask you why that thing was so important. A pang hits his chest, making Gaz’s sweaty hands twitch a bit harder. Seeing you there made his lungs crush in on themselves—there’s a need to try and break through the projection just to grab you back. 

Focus, the Sergeant has to think. Get her back.

But his mind jumps to every time you’d stared into his eyes up to now, your growing bond that he felt proud of being a part of—some semblance of healing. Your lips so very close to his in the remnants of a dark room. 

By the time the figure slips up behind you, the realization is enough to make Kyle’s hands drop seriously; Johnny, Ghost, and Price all going stone-still as their eyes snap back in slight shock. Gaz’s face drops.

Because it was no one else but your mother that now goes and points a gun at your head. 

“What the fuck,” the Sergeant hear’s Johnny whisper under his breath. 

It’s as if the fire is stolen from Garrick’s chest in one foul gust of wind. A chill so deep it leaves the hair on his arms standing pulls from the depths of his gut—intestines bunching; stomach writhing. His eyes stare so hard, that the tendons behind them pull like a tight string. 

Your mother. 

It all fit together so well, that the sudden realization made his mouth water with the warning of bile. Gaz wants to will the video to stop—and his teeth grind together as he glares at your pixelated form, none the wiser as your matriarch raises and levels the black barrel behind your head just after your fingers grasp at a something from the journal; dropping another piece of paper to the ground before quickly bending to retrieve it.

“Turn around,” Kyle harshly whispers to himself. “Fucking hell, Love, Please turn around.” 

He pleads to whatever God might be listening, no, even then, to any anti-christ or demon that grips at his blackened soul—any of them; any broken, rotten bit of his heart. Something had to move you.

The gun raises, it follows the shifting of your head.

Kyle’s legs wanted to bolt, to run to wherever this footage had been filmed on some off-chance-hope that this was all a big farce—some lie; a test. A test he can break apart and analyze, a test he can understand. But Gaz can’t understand the raw fear that makes his eyes snap from you to the gun like a quivering child.

Suddenly he’s a little boy again, and his mother is giving him his father’s watch and explaining why the man isn’t here. Kyle feels very, very small. In fact, the Sergeant had never felt like more of a failure in his entire life. 

“Please,” is all that he can mutter past numb lips, the others in the room irrelevant in the grainy shadow of a mangled woman trying to piece together her family's broken bits of polished glass. A kaleidoscope of crimson shards, dripping blood over her head; he knew how much it weighed on you, damn it, he knew. The things you’ve already gone through, he burned because of it. All of this is some great brand that sears his flesh: sinner.  

Kyle shakes his head, jaw grinding before his fingertips threaten to draw crimson crescents in his palms.

“Just turn around.” He snaps, voice grating in his throat like a dog—eyes tight.

By the grace of whatever God had heard him, just before the quick flare of the bullet being discharged from the gun, your body drops to the ground. 

John grunts beside him, arms shifting, and a great heaving sigh rattles through Gaz’s lungs. Your figure scrambles as pages erupt into the air—the journal on the table having been struck at the angle your mother had pointed the weapon; trailing down with her arm steady at the force. 

The sense that she’d held a gun before was a quick thought, nothing more, as Kyle’s brown gaze sears the projector screen. Scrambling, the Sergeant holds his breath as you break for the cover of some potted plants, limping because of your thigh before your mother turns her head and calls sharply to someone out of the camera's range—there’s no sound on this footage, so the command is lost. 

There’s a crackle on the screen, and the video snaps to black. Kyle’s heart breaks itself.  

“Bring it back up!” He barks, neck straining itself. Gaz rushes forward, grabbing at the computer as his Captain gruffly reprimands his actions. 

“Garrick!” 

“This is all we could grab,” is the even tone. “There were multiple arrests in our surveillance building, they’re all being questioned right now. No one’s spilling.”

The Sergeant’s hands run the keys, messing with the space bar. Brown eyes land on the silent woman in barely hidden desperation.

“Where’s the rest of it? Where’d she run off to—there needs to be more we can go through. A–” He trails, teeth snapping. “A direction, a lead, something, Laswell.”

“What the fuck is going on,” John grinds out, moving his glare from Garrick to Kate. 

“Her own mother?” Soap adds, raising a dark brow and making a noise under his breath. “Talk about a special family, aye?”

“Could say that again,” Ghost utters, huffing. “She got the package deal.”

“Bloody watch it,” brown eyes barely move from the screen as silence seeps into the room. Gaz’s fingers shift back the time to when you were rushing past that potted plant. A sharp sheen of horrified analysis was rooted like veins into Kyle’s sights now—a feral want.

You had to have left him something to find you. You were smart like that; you were devilishly sneaky when you needed to be—when there was only a second of lightning-strike action. 

You had to have.

An aggressive fire so rare to the Sergeant seems to easily overtake him every time your mother’s face is visible to the camera. A blood-red adding of his brain so much so his hands visibly twitch along the pad. 

“Major breach of all functions on base,” Kate answers the Captain, looking deathly serious. “We have no clue how long this has been going on.”

“The mother,” John levels. 

“I had a hunch,” the woman admits.

“Why didn’t you say anything,” Kyle’s body straightens from where it was hunched over the computer, anger getting the better of him. “Fucking hell, Laswell. Spitfire,” he breathes, “my charge is gone and you had doubts?!”

“Sergeant,” the Captain’s voice is deathly cold. “...Stand down.”

Blazing brown meets Kate’s deep blues—drilling.

“I left her here,” Kyle forces out, shaking hand moving into a slow fist over the laptop. 

The room is swept with a delicate pause. 

Laswell sighs, blinking. She looks to the side, averting her eyes. “There was no actionable intel on her mother. I did the best I could without support, but it was limited to what Alex could find out and relay to me.” The woman shakes her head, motioning with a hand. “Medicine was going missing from the hospital building, but the records never showed that was the case—it was word of mouth. Business dealings that didn’t add up from years back after the failed interrogation of Spitfire’s father; all of it not enough. The tracks were hidden so well, it would have taken a team that sat in the hundreds—thousands, even.”

“Needle in a haystack,” Ghost breathes. “The cell overseas?”

“East China?” Kate blinks, tilting her head.

“Only lead we’ve got,” John grunts, shaking his skull and glaring at the table. “Doesn’t help much, Kate. Whole country.”

“That’s if she’s still alive,” MacTavish adds under his breath, sharing a glance at Gaz. 

The other Sergeant isn’t even listening—the pointless babble of the ones who’d ripped him away from you; as if it wasn’t his own hands that had sent in that reassignment form. ‘

“C’mon, Spitfire,” Kyle bites his lips, fastly tapping the arrow keys to see every frame over and over again. 

Your quick duck, the whites of your eyes, that slackened jaw of terror—he doesn’t think you even realize that it’s your mother, just the threat of death enough to block it out. You turn, and the item in your hand bunches with the tightness of your grip. 

Gas interrupts the hurried speaking from the others. 

“The journal—the USB, did you find them?” 

“All of it was recovered,” Kate answers. “Except whatever it was that she was holding.”

Kyle’s spine hunches, looming closer to the screen. It’s the grain that blocks his vision from the truth—the utter shite of the quality pathetic even to him. 

“Where was this?” The Sergeant asks. “The camera recording?”

Laswell nods, giving away the information as if citing off a report. “It’s a small rest area off the back entrance of building C. We kept them both there as new personnel cycled through.”

Kyle’s already out the door, only blinking at the last image of your hand slapping the side of a potted plant and the glance backward as your mother once more raises the gun. A stupid hope was that you’d be here, despite it all. But the slam of his boots only echoed to his ears alone.

Brown eyes shifted from one area to the next, scanning table and chair—everything had been searched already; most likely by Laswell and Alex. 

“Anything,” Kyle turns a circle, hands sweaty. He needed you back. He needed you here minutes ago; hours ago. Your rare eye contact, your laugh that he had become addicted to drawing out of you like honey, the way you spoke, and walked. It had become too much for the man, and his affection for you was so deep now that it was impossible to deny—you’d snuck your way into his heart when he wasn’t looking, and even if you never returned the feelings that you’d infected him with like a poisoner, this agony was unlike anything definable by vocalization. 

This was torture that he couldn’t fight against. 

“You’re smart, Sweetheart,” he gasps, expression pained. “You left me something, I know you did. You left me something to follow.”

If you were the hare, then Gaz would become the hound. You wouldn’t be gone for long, mark every work he’d ever said and most certainly the ones that he hadn’t. He was getting you back beside him, and then he needed to look into your eyes and spill every secret that was ingrained into his DNA. 

Lashes moving, Gaz’s legs carry him across concrete and patches of grass, the crunch of it underfoot. He glances at the table, giving it a once over, bending to study below it—nothing. Kyle grunts lowly, growing more desperate as the seconds draw longer. 

The man passes the potted plants, shifting to run his boot over the grass and ruffle anything that might be stuck in the earth. 

Nothing. 

“Spitfire,” Kyle growls under his breath, backing up a step stiffly. He runs a hand over the base of his neck, fingertips dragging to stimulate the heated skin. 

When it’s all nearly lost, there’s a moment when the light of the sun perfectly aligns with something metallic from the corner of the Brit’s vision. A tiny glint of reflection from the sun leaves Gaz’s eyes flinching in a reactionary display. Grunting, the Sergeant’s head tilts away in annoyance, looking over with a growling ill-temper to the dirt of the first potted plant, ready to snap at it with vitriol. 

But the insult to the inanimate object dries like a desert storm slashed through Gaz’s mouth on the back of a lion. It’s a small thing, hidden under the deep brown of the dirt—the Sergeant doesn’t even know what it is or if it’ll even help before his hands are grasping and ripping away the top layer rabidly. 

His heart pounds, bruising his ribs with the frantic pulse of life. Dirt flies through the air, and Gaz’s grip slides over something metal—something cold. A sharp hiss is barked from him as he accidentally slices his fingertips as he snatches it, the crinkle of paper mimicking before that, too, is stolen with a fast thought. 

“That’s my girl,” Kyle chuckles, though it's serious—lacking anything more than a hurried second of relief. “That’s my fucking girl…okay. Okay, I can work with this, yeah?”

What is pressed into the soil is your coin, the one you always try to carry no matter what, and a piece of lined paper. 

Gaz thinks out loud.

“From the journal?” He asks under his breath, brows pulling in. His attention jumps from one word to the other, but the sudden color of red steals the only ounce of hope he may have gotten. 

Blood. 

Your smeared fingerprints spread along the page and Kyle’s face balks back with a blink of panic, eyes snapping this way and that until it’s clear that the display of gore was more than residual splatter—it was circling a sequence of numbers; if the contents of the letter were anything to go by, the date of your expected graduation from college. 

A sequence of numbers. 

Kyle’s jaw slackens, and he reacts much slower than he knows he should just off of the anxious shaking of his hands as he clenches the paper and the coin. 

“USB,” he utters, breathing heavily. 

And the coin—that tiny piece of your life, that small item you fiddled with but never showed beyond a quick glimpse when you were twirling it. Kyle flips the image as he stands fully, licking his lips as he begins to jog back to Laswell and demand the USB. 

Yet, there’s something that makes a startling amount of pained sense about the inscription on that coin. But he still takes it like a knife to the stomach with a sharp breath. 

‘TO THINE OWN SELF BE TRUE: UNITY, SERVICE, RECOVERY.’ A triangle with the image of the Roman numeral ‘I’.

It was a one-year Alcoholics Anonymous sobriety coin.

—

“Where was it?” Laswell takes the note and blinks down at it, face stiffening at the smears of blood. Kyle’s fingers grasp and drag the laptop to him, panting from how he’d run. The man doesn’t answer, muttering under his breath the numbers as the screen blinks to life. The USB was already plugged in—a result of the fast call that Kyle had thrown the woman’s way, needing it to be ready for him.

Kate passes the paper to Price, who walks to stand behind Gaz—Ghost and Johnny both following to see what the Sergeant had found before he busted back through the meeting room door. 

“She hid it,” Kyle grunts. Long fingers tapping, the keys give way as the numbers are typed in one after the other. “I knew she’d left me something—there was no way she wouldn’t.”

His Captain’s fingers push away dark particles of dirt, but his blues blink up to stare at Garrick as, finally, that password screen breaks away to the pop-up of the file selection. 

“Yes!” Gaz says under his breath, eyes intense; nearly unblinking. 

There isn’t much left to do except look—study. But there wasn’t time for that. Wherever you were, if your mother had you, there was an urgency that couldn’t be overlooked. There had to be something in this USB that gave the answers that everyone was searching for—what you had been searching for.

The location of a hub. But now…there could be something even more valuable in these files—a place where Gaz could bring you back to him.

Brown eyes slip from one file to another, all labeled from ‘2006 Dealings’ to ‘Reports from 04-03: Row’. All organized neatly, maybe no more than ten plainly visible.

“Sergeant,” Kate shifts closer, reaching. 

“I’m getting there, Laswell,” he breathes, “I need to find her before she’s gone forever.”

Kate and John share a look. The woman breathes, “This needs to go to the proper channels for analysis. We can’t rush this intel—one wrong step and the USB could wipe itself if there’s a failsafe hidden in the code.”

Gaz huffs, clicking through documents ruthlessly. “Bullshit.” 

Soap blinks in shock. They all knew that Garrick could be hotheaded and stubborn, but it never extended itself so much as to be a repeated hindrance to the team—in Russia and now were the exceptions. 

“Gaz,” Price says under his breath, watching tightly. “We all know you’re worried, but until we get solid intel, we can’t move after her. Location is only a part of what needs to be understood, Sergeant.” 

Long fingers flinch to slam into the file near the very bottom, and the screen freezes before Gaz blinks at it in anger—in rage—as his palm slaps the table, eyes spearing the individuals behind him.

He barks, “You’re not the bloody people who promised her she’d be safe!” 

The second the sentence sparks electricity in the room, an explosion of blueprints, diagrams, and progress charts move over the laptop screen. Attention snapping back, flinching wide, Gaz’s face pulls as all of it settles on the very last image—the only one he needs to see. 

It was an aerial view of Eastern China, and along the vast coastline, there were markings in the tens of navy-colored pinpoints. Port locations, maybe; warehouses and factories. But all locations.

Gaz stands up, blinking down at the map slowly. 

Taking a slow breath, Kyle swallows down the saliva in his throat and grinds out lowly into the deathly silent room, “When are we starting, Sir?”

TAGS:

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[rxmqnova]

Hello there!

Can you write one with Wanda x Reader, like they are together for i don't know, seven or eight months, yn is russian and practically lived her whole life in there but two years ago her parents had to move for work.

So they are in college, they knew each other in there, and then a new student came to their class, Nat.

Yn introduced herself and her girlfriend, and when Nat told her that she is russian, they inmediately became friends, the country was a connection for both of them, they missed it a lot.

Wanda was happy for Yn, because she saw the way she talked about it with Nat, but sometimes she thought Yn was happy with Nat, not because they are for the same country, she was a bit jealous, not that Yn gave her motives for that, she always respect Wanda. When the three of them went to have lunch, Wanda didn't want to go, even when yn tried to talk to her in the conversations they have, she felt out of place, she never went there, she didn't understand the things they were saying. So when they finished, they said their goodbyes to Nat and went to their room, yn felt something was wrong and then Wanda talk to her about what was bothering her and Yn reassure her that she only saw her life with her, told her about she introduced Nat to a friend of her, Maria, she doesn't have to worry about it. (You know, a little love speech) and she gave her a promise ring she supposed to give it to her in their first year anniversary.

The right one

Y/N: 20 years old ——————————————————

NO ONE'S POV It's another school day and Y/N with her girlfriend only just stepped into the classroom. As usual, they sit down at their desks and start planning what will they do after their lessons.

"Hey, hm. Sorry to interrupt. Is this seat free?" A redheaded girl approaches the pair, making both, Wanda and Y/N, look up at her.

"Yeah. It's free" Y/N speaks first, the russian accent still hearable in her voice as she's been living in New York for only 2 years. "Are you new here? I don't think I've seen you yet?"

"Oh yeah. I switched classes. I'm Natasha, by the way" Natasha smiles at the pair with hope to find new friends.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Y/N. This is my girlfriend Wanda" Y/N smiles warmly introducing both of them to the new girl.

"Hey" Wanda smiles too, giving Natasha a small wave.

"Natasha… that's a typical russian name" Y/N tells, smiling at the thought of her hometown.

"Yeah, well. I'm Russian, so" Natasha shrugs, making Y/N gasp immediately.

"No way! Me too! I only just moved here about 2 years ago" Y/N squeals happily.

"Wait. Like actually? I'm here for a bit longer, but this is really cool. Did you move here for college?" Natasha asks, continuing the conversation while Wanda just watches them, happy for her girlfriend that she has someone to talk to about her hometown.

"Nope, my parents had to move here for work, but it's really nice here. And I ran into Wanda, so that's a big plus" Y/N says, interlocking her fingers with Wanda under the table which makes the brunette smile even more.

"That's sweet, how long are you together, guys?" Natasha asks, switching her gaze to Wanda to involve her into the conversation.

"About 8 months now" Wanda answers, her smile never leaving her face.

———

That's how Natasha and Y/N became best friends. The two constantly talk about their lives in Russia which makes Wanda really happy. She loves the way Y/N's eyes always shine when she talks about her hometown with Natasha, though she feels a bit left out lately.

"Do we really have to go, Y/N/N? I'd much rather stay home with you" Wanda sighs, holding her girlfriend's hand and trying to get her to stay home tonight.

"Wands, we promised it to Natasha. She's already waiting for us. We can't just cancel it" Y/N sighs too, rubbing her thumb over Wanda's knuckles.

"Can we at least go home earlier? We haven't really been together lately and I really want to spend some time with you… alone" Wanda gives in, knowing there's no chance Y/N would stay home with her tonight.

"Sure" Y/N smiles, leaning in to kiss her girlfriend's lips. "Come on now, we're already late and I'm hungry" She says, dragging her girlfriend away.

The pair meets with Natasha in front of the restaurant which luckily isn't that far away from Wanda and Y/N's apartment, so Natasha didn't have to wait for long.

As always, Y/N greets her friend with a warm hug on which Wanda can't help but feel a little jealous. She knows Y/N would never cheat on her, but the feeling of jealousy is just there. Especially when Y/N gets so lost in a conversation with Nat and Wanda's just sitting there and listening.

This time Y/N noticed Wanda's discomfort though, just when they sat down at the table. Y/N listens to Nat carefully, trying to find an opportunity to involve Wanda in the conversation.

"Well, and then Yelena-"

"Yelena? That's your younger sister, right?" Y/N jumps in, earning a nod from the redhead. "Cool. I'm an only child, but Wanda has a twin brother" She says, looking at her girlfriend and hoping she'd say something.

"Wait, really?" Natasha asks surprised.

"Mhm. Pietro" Wanda smiles at the thought of her brother.

Unfortunately, that's all what Wanda said, so Natasha got back to her story. Y/N tries again and again, hoping her girlfriend would eventually join, but that just never happens.

It's not like Wanda wouldn't want to, but the brunette has no idea about the things the girls are talking about. Of course Y/N told her a lot from her life, but she still can't really imagine what's Russia really like when she's never been there herself.

After a few more failed attempts of trying to involve Wanda in the conversation, the pair says goodbye to Natasha and go back to their apartment.

As soon as the door of the apartment shuts, Y/N decides to break the uncomfortable silence that's been with them ever since they left the restaurant.

"Are you okay? Is anything wrong?" Y/N asks, looking at her girlfriend with worry in her eyes.

"… I just… You and Nat seem to have such a great connection and I just… I always feel a bit left out and I'm scared that one day you'll realize that I'm not the right one for you. I mean… you and Natasha just seem to be a perfect match and I always just sit there and watch you" Wanda admits, her eyes filled with tears by now.

"What? No. Wands, of course you're the right one for me. I love you… I love you so damn much and I couldn't imagine my life without you. Natasha is just a friend and we might seem as a perfect match, but that's just because we both miss our hometown and love talking about it. We're completely different people, but you and I… we are the perfect match, Wanda" Y/N smiles softly, taking Wanda's hand in hers and rubbing her thumb over Wanda's knuckles as tears are quietly running down Wanda's cheeks.

"Really?" Wanda asks quietly, a small smile formed on her face from Y/N's last words.

"Really. Do you know Maria? Maria Hill from the other class?" Y/N asks, earning a nod and a confused look from her girlfriend. "Well, I kinda introduced her to Natasha and the two actually seem to get along really well. Natasha even told me she liked her, so you really have nothing to worry about. My heart belongs only to you" The girl smiles, making Wanda chuckle a bit at how cheesy that sounded.

Y/N suddenly drops Wanda's hands, rushing to the bedroom to take something and then quicky rushing back.

"And to prove you I'm really serious about us, I have here something for you. My original plan was to give it to you for our first year anniversary, but I think this is the right opportunity" Y/N smiles, opening the little black box she's been holding. "This is a promise ring. There's no one else I would love to spend the rest of my love with than you, Wands. I'll change it for a real engagement ring one day. I love you so much, Wanda Maximoff"

The ring is now on Wanda's finger and the brunette can't help herself but immediately hug her girlfriend tightly, pulling her in for a kiss right after.

"I love you too, Y/N Y/L/N"

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

Wanda Maximoff masterlist

Masterlist

[cod-dump]

Time (another monster au fic)

———

Price hadn’t foreseen ‘non-human handler’ in his future. Two vampires, an insectoid, whatever the hell Nik was (a lycan of some kind?), and a demon? Definitely wasn’t how he thought his days would go. He especially didn’t plan on sort of adopting the vampires both being older than his grandparents. Well, Soap was. Gaz was much younger than that but still older than Price.

But, their youthful appearances have most certainly made him feel like they needed guidance even though they had far more life experience. Well, Gaz seemed to return the familial connection, at least. He would often come join Price in his office just sit and talk. It was nice having that connection since Price wasn’t in contact with any of his family, distant relatives or close family members.

“Cap… I have a question,” it wasn’t often when Gaz wanted to ask Price something.

He was smart, had seen more things than Price. He was also the type to try to figure things out on his own before asking questions (thankfully he doesn’t do this on the clock).

“Question? About what?”

“Well… Ghost.”

Price felt his heart beat quicken, he knew where this was going, “What about him?”

“Why is he here? He’s a demon, they don’t do this kind of thing. Especially not on their own free will.”

He could hear what Gaz was wanting to say. The thing he hasn’t about to actually say out loud, the thing this was all about. Laswell had the worst reaction when she had found out. Tears, yelling— The works. Nik was much calmer in appearance but Price could tell he was devastated.

Price knew the risks, he knew what he was getting himself into. It was his soul after all, he could do what he pleased with it.

“I… contracted him. He’s a mercenary, after all. He works for me, and when the job’s done he gets his payment… then he’s gone. That simple.”

Gaz’s jaw as clenched, a pain in his eyes that just pierced Price’s soul, “That’s a funny fucking way to call selling you soul to him.”

Price had years to accept it. He’s the one who summoned the Ghost to this plane, the one who offered Simon Riley’s corpse for him to root him here so he had a physical form. Price gave him rank, this human mask that he could wear. Whether he kept it when everything was said and done is uncertain. Price had feeling he could make a hell of a business off of it.

“I had my time to accept it, I don’t expect you to get it.”

Gaz couldn’t look at him, choosing to stare at the wall instead. The angle allowed Price to see the light glint off his eyes, giving away his inhuman nature. Gaz was much more emotional than other vampires. He remembers being human, he cares about humanity. He was stealing blood bags almost his whole vampiric existence before Price found him and recruited him.

“You don’t have to worry about anything, Kyle. When I’m gone Nik will be taking you and Soap with him to Chimera. Kate will make you two disappear and can go on to Russia.”

“That’s supposed to be comforting?”

“Russia does have the highest population of any non-humans in the world. Plus Chimera is nothing but non-humans.”

“Fucking- I don’t care about finding somewhere safe!” Gaz stood quickly, knocking his chair back, “You fucking sold your soul to a demon! You have a timer on your life!”

Price watches Gaz wave his arms around, tears pricking in his eyes, “You’re dying!”

Price sighs. He had accepted this himself, he knows his fate. Unless the demon themself decides to break the contract, spare the human who made it with them… Price’s fate is sealed. There has been some recorded incidents where demons completed the contract only to just leave, not taking their client’s soul. It is possible to survive, but making a demon genuinely like you to the point they let you keep your soul is near impossible.

Ghost was going to kill him in the end. Eat his soul in probably the most painful way possible before fucking off to do whatever.

“Kyle…”

“How can you be so fucking calm? Did you even consider how anyone else would feel!?”

“I made that deal a long time ago. Before I had anyone in my life worth living for. I do not regret sacrificing my life for the greater good.”

Gaz was shaking, now quiet. Price swallows before standing, going around to the vampire and pulling him into a hug. Gaz almost instantly clung to him, a quiet sob in his chest.

“I don’t want you to die…”

“I’m sorry, Kyle. I can’t change anything.”

“There has to be another way.”

“Heh, you know trying to cheat a demon out of a soul is dangerous. You know how dangerous Ghost is.”

Gaz pulls away, wiping his face, “Fuck… Yea, I do…”

Price felt dread in his chest. The first time in years he had to truly acknowledge what he had done. He felt like this after he told Laswell, after Nik, and now Gaz. Their emotions reminded him how deeply upsetting this was. But Price couldn’t take it back. He wouldn’t if it meant he would still be able to do it. Save this world from it’s own self-destruction… all at the cost of a single soul. What he’s doing wouldn’t be permanent, the rot would always crawl back. but at least his soul would buy everyone some time.

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

❤️ Loved By You ❤️

Summary; Eddie's ghost haunts Hawkins, Lovers Lake, The Hideout, the benches in the woods near Hawkins High, and especially the Trailer Park.

All your life you've heard of the poor souls who died in Hawkin's earthquake of 86.

Most passed on, Eddie wasn't so lucky he's been stuck in limbo for thirty-four years, fading in and out as time passes, trying to find companionship but failing.

That's until he meets you.

Love transcends death and happy endings can happen even when all hope seems lost.

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending. 18+, minors dni. Soulmate au

I don't give anyone permission to copy, repost or reuse my work.

If you enjoyed this pls consider reblogging, etc. It's much appreciated. ❤️

I hope you all enjoy it, it's a long fic and I hope you all love it as much as I do. ❤️✨

❤️

All your life you had heard about the great earthquake of 1986 that happened in Hawkins.

Every year the town held a vigil for those that died, your best friend's parents Nancy Wheeler and Steve Harrington held a special service along with Dustin Henderson and Robin Buckley for one person in particular.

Eddie Munson. The ghost of Hawkins, an urban legend whose name was whispered about by adults and whose legend was infamous.

Once accused of killing three high school students from Hawkins High, those of whom were in his (third) senior class.

Until Jim Hopper, Hawkin's most famous sheriff for a whole lot of things, the most amazing being coming back from the dead- or escaping the prison he was held at in Russia.

Anyway, Jim had cleared Eddie of any wrongdoing after his death, in fact, according to Dustin, and many others he had died a hero, helping save others during the earthquake.

Dustin told a lot of stories about Eddie, you'd heard a few when you hung out with Alice, it was bittersweet though because you could see how much pain it caused Dustin to talk about Eddie but he said he had to talk about him because he never wanted Eddie's memory to be forgotten.

You wondered what Dustin thought of the Urban Legend regarding Eddie's ghost. Over the years many people claimed to see Eddie, some were stoned, drunk or a little bit of both.

Others were curious, trying to find out if the tales of Eddie's ghost were true. Double dares to go deep into the woods and call out his name, mentions of the faint sounds of a guitar playing when everything was silent at The Hideout, the cave in Lovers Lake was a hot spot for activity too.

Some part of you yearned to know if it was true, even though the logical part of your brain dismissed it as nothing more than an urban legend.

Plus, you had seen how upset the rumours made Dustin, how much he hated that his friend was used as a laugh for dumb teenagers and even some adults looking for a scare.

Unfortunately, as much as you didn't want to entertain the rumours, some people were all for finding out if the ghost of Eddie Munson was real or not.

❤️❤️

Todd Carver was your ex and to say he was a dick was an understatement. You had dated him for two months and grew tired of his arrogant and boastful demeanour.

Graduation was fast approaching and you wanted more out of life than Todd and his asshole tendencies.

It was just your luck he was still part of your friend group however you did your best to avoid him.

He had been trying to get you to date him again but you just weren't interested.

You hear him goading someone and your stomach fills with anger when you notice its Dustin's son Ben.

He was exactly like his dad, you were very protective of him and follow Todd as he and his friends Calvin and Sam push Ben into the woods.

You can hear their laughter and it infuriates you.

"Come on dude, call out for Munson, didn't your daddy give you Eddie for a middle name? Talk about morbid man"

"Shut up" Ben snaps and you hear those morons laugh again as they tease Ben.

"Leave him alone!" you march up to Todd and he snorts.

"Come on Babe, we're just messing around" you glare at him. Steve said he was like his Uncle Jason in miniature, he didn't like to speak ill of the dead but apparently, Jason was an asshole, Todd was just like him.

"It's not funny Todd, Get lost asshole" Todd snorts.

"What? we just wanna know if Eddie Munson's ghost is real or not? What's wrong with that?" he replies innocently but his eyes are full of malice.

He imitates a ghost and at that exact moment, a branch falls and hits Todd, leaves fall on him and his eyes widen in shock and a small hint of fear.

"It's Munson! Let's get out of here" he rushes away with Calvin and Sam at his heels.

Ben smiles, relaxing as he watches them go.

"Thanks for helping me" You ruffle his hair and tell him to get back for his last lesson.

As he heads away you turn to look at the fallen branch and leaves and frown curiously. There's no wind? Was it an old branch or something else? Something spookier?

Then there's a voice behind you and you freeze on the spot.

"God, that Todd dude was a dick right?" when you turn around he's standing near the benches, arms folded across his chest.

His hair is wild, dark brown and long. Big brown eyes filled with annoyance, some of his tattoos visible and he's wearing a Hellfire t-shirt and jeans just like you saw in the pictures Dustin has on his mantelpiece.

What the fuck.

"He's related to Carver? Can spot that asshole smirk anywhere" Eddie grins at you.

"Shit, you're really... I thought you were a myth or some urban legend passed around by stoned guys and campfire tales" he snorts.

"I'm as real as it gets princess... The smile falls away from his lips, still very much dead though, which is shit"

You sit down on the bench feeling a little bit dizzy, you can barely believe what's happening.

"The branch" you ask faintly and he smiles, it's heart melting, all dimples and a hint of cheekiness.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. Just that dick Carver. You dated that douchebag? Could do a lot better princess" you stare at him still processing everything.

"How did you know that?" he shrugs and sits beside you, the temperature drops a little.

"I'm a ghost, I hear all kinds of shit. Disappear for weeks on end, then come back again. It's confusing being stuck in this limbo world"

"I'm sorry" you reply feeling his sadness so acutely that it takes your breath away for a second.

"It's kay, not your fault. It's nice sticking around sometimes, even if I can't do much. Haunt the dickheads that come out here sometimes though the bullying little shits, keep track of Hellfire Club which is cool, amazing how massive it is now" he looks so proud.

"I know Dustin, Steve, Nancy, Robin. They've told me all about you. You died a hero" he gets up and smiles faintly.

"Decided to stop running, sometimes I wonder if it was sheer stupidity more than bravery"

"Bravery, not stupidity" you assure him and there comes that dimpled grin again. It makes you feel out of sorts, tingly.

"Must have been an awful earthquake" you sympathise and Eddie nods wincing.

"Yeah, was more concentrated on dying at that point though" this confuses you and you say so.

"It wasn't the earthquake that killed you?" he stares at you puzzled.

"No, it was the bats that killed me' he points to the tattoo of the bats on his arm. Ironic right?"

Wait... What?

"Bats?" his eyes widen.

"Shit you don't know?" he cringes and then turns on his heel and disappears. You call him back, curiosity piqued.

What the heck didn't you know? What was going on? More importantly, you just talked to Eddie Munson.

It's a thought that should terrify you but it doesn't and you find yourself anxious for the chance to speak to him again.

❤️

Eddie must be as curious about you as you are about him because he appears again at the edge of the woods while you are talking to your friends.

Anticipation fills you and you want to talk to him so badly, quickly.

You're a little breathless as you catch up to him and sit on the bench.

"Can you tell me what you meant about the bats, please? If you're okay to talk about it. I understand if you don't. The memories must be awful" he pauses for a few seconds then nods.

"Okay, I'll tell you but be warned. This shit is crazy. You might not believe me" you pay him rapt attention.

"Try me" and with that he begins to tell you everything.

You just talk a lot, he opens up about what really happened in Hawkins in 1986 you're stunned and have so many questions.

Demobats, Vecna, The Upside Down, The Mindflayer, The earthquake that rocked Hawkin's was caused by Vecna killing four people, their friend Max was the last death and it literally opened the gates to hell, where The Upside Down bled into Hawkins.

There was a massive group in Hawkins including Dustin, Nancy, her brother Mike, Steve, Robin and a super powers girl named El that fought against the monsters.

The evil was defeated but Max passed away and that caused a huge fracture in the group as well as Eddie's death.

"Sucked watching all the shit going down, doing my best to help when I could. When I wasn't vanishing for months at a fucking time" Eddie murmurs and his tone hurts your heart.

"Thank you for telling me Eddie. I really appreciate it" he offers you a warm smile and sighs as he looks to the darkening sky.

"You should get home, it's been hours" the darkened sky surprises you and you swear.

"Shit. Dad is going to be so pissed" You gather your things and Eddie clears his throat.

"Can I see you tomorrow sweetheart?" your heart melts at his hopeful expression and you find yourself aching to see him too.

"Count on it" you assure him. He sticks around to make sure you get to your car safely, he's gentlemanly and it's so sweet that you are smiling all the way home.

❤️

Even though you are still stunned about talking to a ghost you enjoy talking to Eddie, you talk a lot about many things and even though he disappears sometimes he always comes back.

The time between his disappearances begins to shorten as he mentions to you one day.

It's the first time he appeared outside your window you were just in your nightie and it was kinda cute watching Eddie stammer out his apology and turn around while you pulled on your robe.

If he could blush you're sure he would.

"Come in" you call to him and it's still pretty cool watching him go through things. He's beaming, something has made him happy and it makes you smile too.

That cute grin of his is infectious.

"The disappearances are shortening princess. It's like an hour now compared to hours or even weeks before we met"

It's amazing this is happening because you miss Eddie like crazy when he isn't around.

"This is amazing" You reach out without thinking and grab his hand, you except to feel cold, nothing at all.

Instead there is only a tiny chill as your fingers interlace through his and he is gazing at you in shock.

"You can feel me?" he whimpers and you nod tightening your grip on his hand as he squeezes your hand back, both of you are at a loss on what to say but it's also so wonderful what happened that you're both grinning at each other in a happy bubble.

❤️

Betty stares at you curiously as you doodle in your notebook, you don't mean to but you're doodling Eddie's name in little hearts.

Fuck. Over the weeks and weeks you had been getting to know each other, his form more solid with each passing day you're feelings are deep and growing by the day.

The truth was you were in love with Eddie.

"You've been lost in thought, daydreaming and smiling to yourself. What's going on? Are you in love with someone?" she asks excitedly.

Your heart speeds up but then comes crushing heartache and tears spill down your cheeks.

"It doesn't matter. It can't ever happen" she looks so confused as she rushes to comfort you.

"I don't understand honey" she wouldn't be able to.

How could you explain that you were head over heels in love with a ghost?

💕

It was a quiet night. Just you and Eddie. His body so close to yours, you bridge the tiny gap between the two of you and lay your head on his chest.

He feels so solid so real and for a few precious seconds you forget that you don't hear his heart beating. That it can never beat. All that matters is that Eddie is here with you.

That's until your doorbell rings and you groan getting up, you can hear that its Todd before you even see him and feel pissed. What the hell did he want?

You open the door just wanting to get this over with.

"Babe! It's been weeks and weeks. Graduation is next Friday! I've been super patient but when are you going to take me back?" you gape at him.

"Uh, how about the first of never? We broke up for good Todd because you're an arrogant bully" he looks stunned for a second.

"This is bullshit! You've met someone else haven't you" There's a shadow upstairs near your room, it's Eddie.

He's protective and you know he won't take Todd shouting at you lightly. However you're well versed in dealing with this dumbass.

"It's none of your business. Go away, Todd. You and I are never going to happen again" he scowls and reaches towards you to grab your arm.

"What are you doing! Let go!" his eyes darken and your heart sinks but then he comes to when you wrench your arm away and he snorts.

Then the next second he's literally flying out the door and lands right on his ass outside. You slam the door shut and head back upstairs knowing Eddie is annoyed.

He is quiet as you head into your room, still fuming that Todd thought you would ever want him back.

"Of all the arrogant, conceited assholes" you huff and you turn to Eddie who is resting on your bed his face blank.

"Eddie?" he gets up, he looks so tense and you move closer to him and gently take his hand.

"Eddie?" he turns to you and he looks forlorn, it makes your heart ache so deeply when he hurts, you hurt.

"What's wrong? Is this about Todd? I don't want him back. You know that right? He's such a douchebag and... He turns away and when he turns back to you his gaze is cold.

"Yeah, he's a dickhead but not every guy you meet will be. You'll find someone special, look at you. You're amazing, sweet, kind, beautiful" his words warm your heart and yet you still feel anxious.

"I don't want some guy. I... You're all I think about Eddie" It's the first time you've admitted out loud even though it's been obvious between you two for a while now.

He shakes his head, his eyes shining but his face set and angry.

"You can't sweetheart. I'm not even here, not really. You can feel me and I can feel you, yeah but it doesn't change the fact that I don't even have a fucking heartbeat"

"It doesn't change the fact that you have no future with me"

There's silence and he begins to fade.

"Please don't go" you beg and he smiles sadly.

"I can't be selfish sweetheart, you deserve someone real, someone who can be with you properly, that can't happen while I'm hanging around. Goodbye princess, thank you for making me happy for the first time in thirty five years" his hand gently strokes over your cheek.

"No, no" you beg but he disappears completely and he doesn't come back, not even for your heartbreaking calls.

Even if it breaks the heart that no longer beats inside of him, he knows he has to stay away.

❤️

It's been a week since Eddie left, sometimes you think that you catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye, smell his cologne when you wake up in the night but it's all just wishful thinking you realise.

You can't even explain to anyone why you're heartbroken, you feel so alone.

Graduation passes by and while you're happy that you and your friends will be together at the newly built Hawkins academy, there is still a heaviness in your heart that is left by Eddie's absence.

For a second you swear you see Eddie at the edge of the forest but he's gone the next second and you're sure much to your disappointment that you imagined it.

He really wasn't coming back. The thought broke your heart all over again.

❤️

The next night you find yourself wandering around Lovers Lake. All your friends are here and it's a massive party for all seniors.

As they party you head off on your own and find the cave that Eddie supposedly haunts, you just want to feel close to him for a little while.

The tears you've been holding in since yesterday fall and you cry it all out, all the heart ache and pain.

"Please don't cry," you think you imagine Eddie's voice but when you look up he's watching you, he looks agonised.

"What are you doing here, I thought you were staying away?" you wipe your eyes and stand up shakily. He swallows and moves closer to you.

"It's hell. Like a physical constant ache, it never goes away, the longing to be with you. When I'm not with you I'm in agony. Didn't know being dead could hurt this much. Hurt even worse than when I died"

Your whole body shakes with tears.

"I feel the same way, it feels like I can't breathe Eddie, it hurts so badly" he reaches out to you and his hand rests on your cheek.

"How can I stick around though? I'm just keeping you from moving on, finding someone who...who can really be with you" he spits out the words, the devastation in his eyes breaks your heart.

"This isn't fair. Life sucks ass you know that?" this brings a smile to his face and you cuddle into him, then you peer up at him.

"I love you Eddie, I'm in love with you" his expression changes, it's like happiness radiates from him and it fills your heart with joy.

"I love you too sweetheart, I'm so in love with you" his lips meet yours and you kiss passionately, pouring all of your love for each other into the kiss.

The kiss is incredible, perfect. You kiss for what seems like hours until you slowly part, Eddie's lips press to your forehead.

Then something weird happens, and Eddie's eyes widen. He stares at you for a second and whispers "Princess"

Then he's just gone.

❤️

Eddie expects to disappear and then re appear within an hour or so.

Instead of an hour it's barely a minute and something feels wrong. One minute he's in The Upside Down and he's bones and dust, the next minute, as if by magic he can feel his body coming back together, bones forming once more, skeleton then his body piecing itself back together, he opens his eyes and he can hear the most wonderful sound that he's heard in thirty five years.

The sound of his own heartbeat. He can't even comprehend how this happened. How he is alive once more.

Maybe magic did exist? If those creatures, the demobats, MindFlayer, Vecna and another dimension under Hawkins then who's to say that magic wasn't real?

A miracle had happened that's for sure. Tears burn in his eyes and he knows so much has changed over the years, his friends are grown up, his uncle an old man.

And yet he was given a second chance, another chance at life and he wasn't going to waste a single second.

At first he's unsteady on his feet, he cuts himself some slack. Shit he's been dead for so long.

Somehow though he gets out of the cold desolate world of the destroyed Upside Down.

He crawls his way out of hell and into the light.

❤️

It's a couple of hours later, you're at home and the sun is beginning to rise. Bird sing fills the air as sunlight fills your room.

That perfect kiss with Eddie fills your mind. Was it a goodbye kiss? Something didn't feel right when he disappeared and it's troubling you what it is.

"Princess" you peer up and Eddie is at your window, you race over to open it and he comes in.

"I thought you were gone" tears blur your vision and you throw your arms around him.

It takes a second for you to realise that he's warm, so warm, Eddie smiles through tears as he says something to you.

He's beaming, absolutely radiant,his whole body is solid and through your haze of tears you hear the words he's been saying to you.

"Princess, listen" he places your hand on his chest and you lean in close.

Thump, thump, thump.

You can feel the steady thump of his heart beat. It's the most beautiful sound you've ever heard.

"How?" you're barely able to gasp out and he shakes his head, he has no idea either.

"After our kiss, I woke up in that place, everything was desolote and there was barely any sign of an exit but I crawled my way out of where my Uncle's trailer used to be" he closes his eyes.

"I was down there in the upside down but then I got to the surface, I could feel the sunlight, hear birds singing and could feel my heart racing, by some fucking miracle I was brought back"

"I've been given a second chance to have a new life, connect with Dustin and the others, spend my life with you if you'll have me, you're the woman I want to spend my life with" you kiss him elated.

"Yes, yes, yes. I'll be by your side through all of it Eddie". His eyes darken in a delicious way that makes your whole body tingle.

"There's so many people I want to see but first I really want to spend the morning making love to my girl. Does that sound good to you Princess?"

"Yes", you manage to say as his arms wrap around you pulling you close to him.

For the first time you make love, feeling Eddie's body close to you, the way he makes you feel is everything.

Mind-blowing orgasms sweep over you both but the absolute best part is when you cuddle into his arms sleepy, when you wake up he's dozing peacefully, there's a smile on his face and you sigh content as you rest your head against his chest.

His heartbeat lulls you back to sleep once more, a smile on your face as you slumber.

❤️✨

[sleepingdeath-light]

OH. MY. WORD. I had no clue you were into Hetalia as well!

Might I request some dating headcanons for Russia and/or America with a fem! S/O? Fluff or smut is up to you really!

Smut Headcanons | America & Russia (18+)

thank you for requesting, anon!

reader is assumed as being female and (separately) in a relationship with the respective characters

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

Alfred F. Jones / America

alfred is a dominant leaning switch who has a bad habit of getting a bit too big for his boots, so to speak

like he’ll present himself as this experienced masculine dominant who can give you everything you want and more — but he’ll be rather tightlipped about his bratty submissive side until it comes up

massive sadomasochist with a preference for branding and biting over other forms of marking — though he’s always up for using swatches and paddles if you ask him to

as a dom he has no preference for positions so long as he’s in control and is happy to be a top or a power bottom — just as eager to have you ride him as he is to flip you over, fold you nearly in half and ravish you to his heart’s content

as a sub he’ll go for one of two things depending on if you’re penetrating him or if you’re using him to penetrate you; for the former he’s a fan of doggy style and for the latter he’ll go for anything where you’re on top

if you ever call the safe word he’ll stop immediately and become rather sheepish and apologetic as he checks you over for injuries — he gets it, though, even he forgets his own strength at times

is a big fan of risk taking in the bedroom so he’ll be up for any public or semi-public acts you bring up (hell one of his biggest fantasies is you going down on him during a meeting — under the table where nobody can see you, of course)

isn’t shy about your sex life and is incredibly prideful about his body and abilities — so he’s both happy to brag about how good you feel and how many times he made you come and eager to send/receive sexts and nudes

phone sex is a damn near must — as is mutual masturbation (he just really likes watching you get off)

is open to pegging or any other use of toys in the bedroom

if you want to get him on his knees for you (and don’t mind getting your clothes ripped off of you), then just wear some lingerie or otherwise sexy clothes in the colours of his flag

Ivan Braginsky / Russia

ivan tends to bottom out of necessity — letting you take the reins as to ensure that he doesn’t forget himself and hurt you

is happy to guide and manhandle you into whatever position you’d like, but he won’t do anything to hurt you too much or risk doing so (he loves you too much to do that)

he’s rather well endowed so thorough foreplay and preparation is an absolute must if you want to be up and walking after the fact

he’s vocal during sex but he isn’t loud, mostly limiting himself to grunts, groans and deep whispers in both russian and english about how good you feel and taste and look for him

enjoys having you sit on his face when receiving oral — both for the view and the assurance that you have the space to move away if it gets too much

that being said he does have a distinct sadistic streak that he’ll only bring out if you ask him — and even then he’ll hold back out of fear of going too far (as he has in the past)

you’ll end up using the colour system during your rougher sessions (green=go, amber=shaky, red=stop)

spanking is used as a punishment and he’ll happily deliver it to your ass or your sex depending on what you’ve agreed on

marking for ivan tends to correlate with knife play and cutting — but he’d be happy to let you mark him in whatever way you prefer

is neutral to thigh riding itself, but loves it when you try to take control and get so needy for him that you’d resort to that (plus the view is a bonus)

the easiest way to fluster him is to send him a picture of you nude or in a state of undress on his bed — guarantee that he won’t be able to focus for the rest of the day

[gazsluckyhat]

Sarah's House *TW* - from this chapter on

Six - Chest Hair

Masterlist

Hey guys! I know I said there'd be consistent updates but apparently my brain doesn't work like that. Chapter six is a lot of talking and some sad things. But its getting good. Get a little banter in this one. I hope you guys enjoy!

Price knew he shouldn't take the mission. The outcome seemed obvious, or so he thought. Until he wasn't anymore.

or

Like calls to like. Or something of the sort.

Ghost and Gaz have the table set and ready when Sarah makes it downstairs. The food smells amazing and her stomach growls as she walks in, both boys looking over at her. Ghost finds her hand, pulling her to him and kissing her head before pushing her towards a seat.

"Good to know you're hungry." She nods towards Gaz. Starving. She doesn't say it. Doesn't want to admit how hungry she really was. Had wanted to steal the MRE Johnny had offered her on the flight, but she couldn't bring herself to do it.

"Made something simple, easy on your belly we hope." Gaz has such pretty hands, she notices when he sets her plate down. His fingers aren't too small or big, just right and long. Manicured nails showing just how much he actually cared for himself. She wonders what else those pretty fingers were capable of. Shooting? Fighting? Strangling? Fingering? Would he shove them down her throat to shush her while forcing the other ones inside her?

It's not until a hand touches her thigh that she realizes she was staring, or daydreaming. She shoos the thoughts away with the idea they're wildly inappropriate. These men saved her and have agreed to get her back on her feet, nothing more. What she's feeling is normal, she tells herself. Most woman saved like she was develop attraction towards their heroes, but she should not act on it. Plus, she doesn’t even know if her vagina works anymore. Hadn't been used since before she'd went missing. Even then finishing was rare. No, she needed to focus on herself and not the increasing need to frisk the men sitting around her.

"Do you like it?" Ghost and Jesus, everyone else are watching her. She looks down and actually looks at the food. Pasta. Alfredo with what looks like chicken and broccoli. It looks like what she imagines Heaven will look like. She takes a fork full and tastes it. Fuck me. It tastes like what she imagines Gaz tastes' like. Fucking Heaven. She moans, doesn't mean to but the food is euphoric. She hasn't had anything decent in two years. Slop and molded food that only kept her alive and never fed.

"I'll take 'at as a yes." The men are all smiling. Watching her eat being the first step in a long recovery.

Sarah listens to the boys talk as she eats. Her dad chiming in with facts and stories. She finished her first bowl and got another, just listening and watching the people around her. How normal it was. Conversations not pertaining to murders, rape, or torture. How it felt to sit and eat and not be gawked at or have things thrown at you. What it was like to not have food used as a bargaining chip. She enjoyed food before. Loved to try new things. Sushi, BBQ, pasta, anything. The only reason she was as small as she was, was because of her training. Russia had ruined it. Took away the love and smothered it. She ate only because her body screamed for it. Had done horrible nasty things for scraps. Allowed herself to fade to the black and whatever happen, happen. She'd forgotten what it was like to be human. To talk and eat and relax. Relaxing was still far away but this, this was nice. She was safe, fed, clothed, and happy. Maybe happy? Wasn't sure what that was anymore.

"Do you remember Rabbit?" Head snaps up as she hears her pet name. Cheeks flaming as she realizes she's missed the whole conversation.

"Hop away did we?" Price is smiling, no anger or malice in her voice. He's asking her if she's okay without making it a spectacle. She gives a quick nod and looked down to take a bite. Failure. It's loud and in her ear. She jumps, head whipping around to face nothing. She doesn't clock the eyes on her. No, she's too focused on the loud sounds in her head. Whore. It's across the room. Shape dark and standing taller than her. Face clouded in mist, swirling around. It's speaking to her. Useless. She crinkles her napkin. Worthless. Scoots her chair out. Traitor. Standing she goes to run. The thing closer now. Russian garbage. Used like the whore you are. She's running before it finishes it's sentence. Footsteps pounding behind her, she goes to hide in her room. Sobbing she's in the closet in seconds. Hit's the back and crawls into the corner. The clothes concealing her from view. Hands over her ears she rolls herself into a ball. The voices in her head getting louder and louder. Someone's banging on her cell door. The guards are trying to get in. They're gonna hurt her, tear her clothes again and try to touch her. Her team is gonna find her though, no man left behind. They'd promised.

"Sarah!" Her name is strange agaisnt her ears. She curls tighter and sobs louder. There's a loud noise and some light. They've found her. They're gonna kill her. Sarah is screaming, loud and hoarse.

"Flower, c'mre." Hands are coming towards her, rough and calloused. Hands that have held a gun. Sarah screams louder, begging for help. Feet kicking as she attempts to crawl away. Her side still aching from the last guard.

"Price!" The person behind the one trying to grab her is built just like the one below. The light behind him casting a shadow. She's praying her team finds her soon, terror racing through her veins.

"Move, she can't see our faces." The shadow is gone and suddenly she sees her tormentor. Brown eyes. She knows those eyes. Dean. She reaches out to him. Tears soaking through her uniform.

"You found me." Why is her voice so gruff? And she's wrapping her arms around his neck. Clinging to the man she'd spent years bunked beside. "You saved me." She's being picked up, carried to safety.

"We found you. You're safe, flower." Flower? No, raven. Her name is raven, Dean came up with it. She's set on something soft and pulls back confused. The face she sees is not Dean's, no but it is familiar. Flower. Someone else calls her that. Someone with a skull mask. Her fingers touch the baklava. She catches those eyes again and notices the difference in them to Dean's. Instead of gold she sees chocolate. Deep and smooth. Those eyes did save her, they carried her away from the horrible pain. Her lip quivers and shes shaking.

"Ghost?" Voice so low he almost misses it. Hands on her face he nods. She leans into those hands.

"Right 'ere. Haven't left you." He can see the tension in her bones. She's wound so tight she could snap. She looks over his shoulder to the other boys watching, her father in front.

"I'm - so-rry." She hiccups. Ghost is shushing her, hands holding her to him.

"No, don't do 'at." He throws a look over his shoulder and her dad is there in a instant.

"Rabbit?" She nods. Doesn't know what to say. Refuses to tell him what happened. Instead she points to the bed.

"I wa-an-na sl-e-ep." It's broken but more than she'd said in years. Her father nods and kisses her head before rushing off down the hall. She catches the boys and tears well in her eyes again. She makes grabby hands and Gaz and Johnny join Ghost's side. Sarah holding each of their hands as she leans on Ghost's chest, breathing slowing down. She tenses for a second when she feels the dip in the bed, before instantly relaxing when Price's scent hits her nose. She's safe like this, boxed in by the only four men who'd not hurt her. Who'd only ever offered kindness and safety.

"You need to sleep, lovie. We can talk about tonight in the morning." Price is rubbing her hair, she can feel the exhaustion taking root as the adrenaline fades out. He's right, she's picking up that he usually might be. But she doesn't wanna be alone. She's been alone for two years. So she tugs on the hands and looks up.

"Not alo-ne." Gaz is tugging her hand away in a second, her eyes going wide and breathing picking up. He's leaving. Tears well up in her eyes until he takes her chin and shakes his head.

"Need to get ready for bed if I'm laying with you." She smiles as he kisses her head watching as he pulls away and goes to change.

"You wanna change too?" Ghost is turning her face up.

"Pl-e-ase."

"Course." He's in her closet right after leaving her to sit with Johnny and Price. Price who is still rubbing her hair, and shit, she could fall asleep like this.

"Gaz wins this round 'aye?" Johnny is joking, his need to always make people happy even in the worst of times. Sarah doesn't agree and instead tugs him closer.

"You t-oo-o." Her cheeks are crimson even asking. The idea taboo but she can't sleep alone. Not yet, not when she can still feel the cold of her cell in her bones. Johnny nods, because of course, he'd do anything she asks. "Cha-nge?" Johnny nods before he too exits. Ghost comes back with a pretty purple set that looks like a dream. Price gets up to leave.

"I'll leave you to it." Turns to say goodnight and she's already stripping. He freezes, not because she's naked but because she's naked. It's the first time he's seeing her clean and treated. Her wounds and scars on full display. He catches sight of a nasty scar on her side. He doesn't mean to stare, doesn't even know hes walked closer until he's brushing his fingertips agaisnt the scar. She freezes for a split second before looking at him, gauging his reaction. She expects disgust or pity, but instead finds anger? She leans away and he finally notices her face. Shame. "No, never. You 'ave nothin to be shamed about? No ones angry at 'ya. We're mad at what happened, at the people who did it. Never you." Ghost slips the shirt over her head and pushes her into Price who hugs her. Squeezes her and places a kiss on her head.

"Get some sleep. Long day tomorrow." She nods and nuzzles into Ghost's black hoodie. Gaz is back, slipping in behind her and grabbing her arm. She allows him to pull her into the bed, slipping under the blanket and making room for Johnny. Johnny who is only in a thin pair of sleep pants. Sarah looks away, hoping he doesn't notice her red cheeks.

"Better watch out, Johnny snores." She giggles and she curls into Gaz, grateful for the warmth. Johnny scoffs as he scoots close to her and slips a arm over her hips.

"Speak for yourself." Gaz laughs and Sarah can feel the vibrations in his chest. Its calming somehow. Johnny kisses her head and nuzzles into her back, his breath warming her neck. Its comfortable, being touched like this. She knows she doesn't have to worry about them hurting her. They actually care for her and wanna see her thrive. And here wrapped in both of them she knows she's safe. She can sleep and not worry about waking up to hands around her throat or thighs. This is relaxing, she realizes. Wrapped up and warm. Both boys breathing evenly and holding her. She slips off thinking how this is her version of home.

Johnny does in fact snore. Extremely loudly at that. But she's fully rested, the sun dim through the curtains. Gaz is gone, must have gotten up earlier. She curls closer to Johnny, his warmth on the verge of easing her back to sleep. And she would've too, if Johnny hadn't slung his arm over her chest and squeezed, nuzzling into her back. It cuts off her air supply and she has to slap at Johnny. Clawing at the fat of his arm, pinching him.

"So-oap." He moves a bit. "So-o-oap!" A little louder. "Soap!" That's it. He's up in a instant. Eyes finding her and helping her sit up.

"What is it lassie?" She giggles a little. He's cute. Mohawk a mess, dried drool on his chin and sleep in his eyes. "What?"

"Cute." She squeeze's his cheek for added effect. "Yo-ur lo-ou-d. Squi-sh-ed me." Johnny blushes. Sarah smiles and snuggles into his chest, nudging his arms out of her way. The light hair tickling her cheek. She sits there and listens to his heartbeat. The rhythmic thump, thump, thump quieting the voices. Johnny rubs her hair as he hums some old song his mum used to sing to him. Sits there for as long as she wants, her touch calming his nerves. Easing away the terror he felt last night.

"Oi! You're awake." Gaz is still in sleep clothes but looks wide awake. He climbs in beside her and kisses her head that is still pressed to his friends chest. "Sleep good?" She hums in response.

"Sn-ore l-ou-d." He chuckles and smacks Johnny's arm.

"Told ya' mate." Johnny is grumbling.

"Can't 'elp it!" Sarah chuckles and pry's herself off him. Her eyes staring into the sparkling blue of Johnny's. She rubs her nose agaisnt his, causing him to shiver and nip at her own.

"C'mere. You're dad made French toast." She happily climbed out of the bed and into Gaz's waiting arms. Mention of her dads favorite breakfast food causing her stomach to growl.

Breakfast is simple and no one asks questions about last night. Letting her eat and wake up. Ghost gives her a cup of coffee, gawking as she dumps sugar and milk in it. Grumbling about "coffee is black" and "already too fukin' sweet". She just giggles and sit back beside Price and her dad. Almost moaning once again when the toast first touches her tongue. Memories of Sunday mornings and laughter bubbling up. Tears come to her eyes when she first takes a sip of coffee. The warmth is brings reminding her of her mom, the coffee she'd make her every morning. She take a second, closes her eyes and lets herself actually feel. The ache from losing her and from not having her when she needs her the most. Price catches it, catches everything really. It is his job after all. He takes her knee under the table. Three light taps to let her know its okay. That she's okay. And she taps back. Giving him a smile when she opens her eyes. Thankful for his understanding.

"I'm gonna head back home today." She stares at her father. Shock in her eyes. Maybe a little hurt too.

"Why?" Ghost grunts it out, going between looking at him and watch Sarah for a reaction. All she does is a slight dip in her shoulders.

"I can do more from there then I can here. Last night was proof I'm not capable of properly helping. And I feel I'm only in the way here." She looks away. Out the back door and into the forest. The sun shining bright. She wants to feel the warmth. So she promptly gets up and walks out the door. Letting it shut behind her. There's a lawn chair not to far from the patio in front of a fire pit. She sits down and brings her knees to her chin. Turning her head up she closes her eyes and just basks in the warmth. The sunshine bright even agaisnt her closed eyes. She evens her breathing and tightens her hold on her legs. The burning in her throat the sign tears are coming. She can feel the person before they speak, but doesn't open her eyes. Knowing if she does she's gonna break.

"Your mom was sick before you were born." He doesn't try and touch her. Just speaks. "Her childhood was rough and her time in the Marines gave her enough problems. I didn't quite understand until it was too late. She'd disappear in her head for weeks at a time. Found her with a razor a couple times, nothing too serious. She stopped after a while, though she was getting better. You were born and she seemed so happy.  We both were. You were the light of our lives. Around your second birthday it got bad again. She would go to bed and just lay there. I'd find you in your crib, playing with the air. I tried to talk to her and help but it just didn't work. When you were two years old you walked in on her cutting words into her arms. I went to look for you and found you crying at her feet, your little hands bloody. You were asking her why she was doing it. I took you and cleaned you up, put you to bed. Then I went and called nine-one-one. She was gone for two days before coming back. I tried to get her help. But I wasn't enough. I lost your mother because of that, and I refuse to lose you for the same reason." Sarah chokes back a sob, allowing herself to fall into her fathers arm and cry.

"Mis-s her." He rubs her head, nodding with her.

"I do too. But she loved you. She may have had her problems but you brought her so much joy." She breaks harder at that. "I can't wait until you come home. But I know you are safe here. I trust you with these men more than you being home. They care for you, I can see it. I love you and want for you to be happy."

"Lo-ve y-ou dad." She knows when he's leaving, feels herself being handed off. Smells Price's musk and cries even harder. Knowing he was leaving to keep her safe.

"C'mere sweet girl. I've got ya'." She clutches onto him, sobbing into his chest as he rubs her hair and whispers in her ear.

[sillyunknownkitkat]

Nikolai and price x ftm!headcanons sfw & nsfw pls & tyy

Ofc!

Nikolai and Price with an ftm!s/o hcs

NIKOLAI :

sfw

He doesn't care at all of what's in your pants or how you identify

even if you dated him before coming out, it's the same to him

he loves you for you and that's it

now he's still carefull to not make you uncomfortable

Like maybe avoiding your chest area if it makes you uncomfortable

he'd help you with your T shots, paying surgery/ies, ...

also just spats insult in Russian if someone purposely misgender you. it doesn't matter if the person doesn't understand what he's saying, the expression on his face and tone of voice are enough to get the point

now if you guys had to go to a family dinner or something but you don't want/can't come out to them, he'll be weird

it's just that he respects you way too much to disrespect you but he understands the situation

I'm pretty sure the LGBTQIIA+ movement isn't really known in Russia but the man travels a lot

100% would go to a pride convention(?) with you

nsfw

I think he's done to try almost everything at least once

so if you rather put on a strap/use your dick, no problem at all!

while I think he prefers to be top, he definitely doesn't mind being bottom/sub

He'd be a bit sad if he can't eat you out anymore but once again he understands and respects it

plus you still have another hole so....

if you're still okay with your birth genital then he's all for it

"Such a pretty boy cunt", "mmmm, so handsome looking while I play with you", ...

PRAISE, PRAISE, PRAISE

he's the best if you ever feel dysmorphic (pls tell me if it's the wrong word) but still horny

doesn't matter if you still have more "feminine" boobs

something with a nipple is good no matter the circumstances

PRICE

Sfw

He knows what trans means but he's a little lost okay?

in this he dated you while you were already transitioned but he doesn't really know per say

when you first tell him he's like "okay..? good job."

yeah...

I'm sorry but he can't stop himself to ask you that one question

"So you still have a fanny down there or...?"

hdhzjzkzkzkz

sorry.

same as nikolai, it doesn't really matter if you do or don't

nobody even dares to misgender you while with him

I'm also very sorry but he won't go to a mride convention unless you really insist on him being there

it's just that he works a lot so he just want to relax and do almost nothing

please don't take peepaw to a family reunion if they're transphobic because it won't end well

nsfw

this man hasn't been pegged or rimmed before and didn't like the idea at first

but even if you respect his choice, you're still a bit sad

he agrees after a few recherches but he's still a bit nervous

so you talk him through it and he ends up really liking it !

now he's okay with being a switch but he still needs to do the fucking so hopefully you like anal too

but in the case where you don't really mind he's the same as Nikolai

"Squeezing me so tight luv'", "Mmm good boy, keep doing that."

I believe this man also enjoy tiddies no matter your genre or you "genital attribute"

heck he even enjoy his to be played with!

sorry if this was a little short but I'll probably write a oneshot for this later because I really liked the idea.

please tell me if anything seems offensive, rude,... I really don't mean too!

have a great day/night and be safe everyone!

[hetalia-club]

Share the plot sis!

YOU GOT IT!

Here is the Hetalia fighting game I have thought about for nearly a decade now.

I have spent too much time sitting around thinking about what a Hetalia fighting game would be like/ I think a dating sim was a dumb idea for a game and a fighting game would just be better tbh. So the game would play like a typical fighter akin to Mortal Kombat so like a side facing fighting game. They would all have their own skill sets, finishing moves and what not that was heavily influenced by their culture & personalities. Now I don't think it would be as violent as Mortal Kombat (Though I think that would be fun and play into the absurdity that is Hetalia and it is an M rated series and they could get away with it if they wanted. Plus they are all immortal so that would be a good 'yeah he's fine' type thing, you may have gotten cut in half but rub some dirt in it, tis but a scratch.) They would have outfits you could choose from & unlock as you play. Costumes would be based on things like Magical Strike, Cardverse, Gangsta, Historical, Pop Culture references. I also think it would be fun if they could all wear each others clothing. So the outfits were not all character based and you could put let's say Russia in America's Cowboy outfit and that would be fine.

A mechanic I imagine is a Specials Bar

Specials Bar- would be the meter you build up In order to do your special/finishing moves. You would build it up by landing hits and combos. And successfully evading hits and someone else’s special attack by timing it just right.

Fighting styles would be something like this England: Would use magic almost entirely. Would have a wand. Mostly a mid-long range fighter but would have a ‘vanish’ type move you could do to make a quick get away. Arthur and a few others would have a separate bar called a ‘magic meter’ that could be used for separate things like the vanishing in a cloud of smoke or combo breaking. A full magic meter could be used to cancel a special/finishing attack. He would have to charge the magic meter making it difficult to build up but worth it if you could pull it off.

Italy: would have really good evading, a quick dash you would have to time just right to avoid and would have quick high hit count combos. He would be a speed fighter for sure. Would mostly use his fists but would pull a knife out of his boot during combos. Unlike other characters who need to hit other characters to build up their specials bar. Italy’s specials bar would build up very slowly as he’s hit as well.

America- would be a slower character but a really heavy hitter to balance him out. His combos would now be high hits but instead like 2 or 3 really good punches. Would have pistols you could use to stagger and block cancel.

So The game wouldn't be set in an actual war because that would be fucked. But instead it would make up it's own scenario that I think would work really well.

They game would focus as Italy as the starting main character in the story. It would start off as Italy waking up one morning and realizing from watching the news all the other countries are gone and have replaced by doublegangers. He travels around the world freeing the other countries from their captors. Which are, you guessed it the 2p characters. As you free other countries you gain the option to use them in fights instead of Italy, but Italy will still be the main character. The 2ps are not recolors but are instead totally separate characters with their own move sets & finishers. You are trying to solve the mystery of who these people are, why they look like everyone, where they came from and who is in charge of it all. It's reveled that 2p Italy is the ring leader behind the whole thing & they are from an alternate dimension.

so yeah...that's it