#soldier is Just power. nothing needed to be changed

[omegapropaganda]

The Armpit and the Pendulum

cw: dubcon, power imbalance, armpits, mostly unedited horny rambling

Captain John Price x Trans Male Reader

2.6k words

for @ferindencadash

The first time Price put you in a headlock you were just doing some simple sparring. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just two bodies fighting for dominance like good soldiers do. Your response was out of the ordinary though. Face smushed into the captain’s armpit you took one last desperate breath and the fight left you.

Price was surprised at how quickly you submitted to him. He held you there for half a second longer than necessary. He was testing you. Wanted to see if his theory was correct. You tried to hide how affected you were by the proximity to what you had coveted for so long, but the quick flutter of your lashes as he pressed your nose deeper into the sweat soaked fabric covering his armpit told him everything he needed to know.

The next few days were a whirlwind of training and there was something about your commanding officer that was throwing you off your game. Price's wardrobe was slowly changing. The normal T-shirts he wore began slowly evolving into cut off sleeveless monstrosities that all but yelled at you, begging you to stare at the juncture where his arm met his chest and the little wiry brown hairs peeked out.

Price also became more... tactile with you. A high five here and there after a successful take down in hand to hand or an arm slung around your shoulders on the way to the showers after weight training, all of these motions giving you tantalizing glimpses of his sweat soaked skin.

It was driving you crazy. You were becoming desperate for another chance to get up close and personal with your captain's scent.

Your desperation would prove to be your downfall.

One day while training in the Task Force's private gym Price stripped his sweat soaked shirt from his body and tossed it onto the nearest piece of equipment. He continued his jog on the treadmill, and you did your best to focus on your own workout rather than letting your eyes follow the lines of his back and the way his hair stuck to his body with fresh sweat.

That way lies madness.

Price finished his run and wiped the sweat from his brow with the towel he had around his neck. He made for the door, warm hand rubbing the short hairs on your head on his way out, letting you know he was headed for the showers.

As soon as the door was shut your eyes zeroed in on the forgotten shirt.

It was just sitting there all alone, draped across some fancy work out machine that you had only ever seen in public gyms.

The rest of the team were off at the shooting range and most likely wouldn't be back for hours.

And Price was headed to the showers, so nobody would be in here for a while.

You had time.

You waited a few moments, listening for footsteps just in case, before getting up from the bench and grabbing Price's forgotten shirt. It had begun to dry, no longer soaked through as the sweat evaporated in the heat of the gym, but the scent was still there.

It was heady and pure, no trace of synthetic fragrances, just the spicysweet clean musk of a man. Not just any man though, this was your captain, your boss, your superior. You were not supposed to be lusting after him. Craving him. You were in dangerous waters entertaining these thoughts, but that seemed to only make you want him more.

With the scent of your captain invading and making itself at home in your senses you were lost. You were huffing it down like a drug, getting high off Price's dirty laundry like some kind of pervert. There was a part of you that wanted more of him. You wanted to take this scent and taste it straight from the source. Wanted to bury your nose in his hairy armpit, lick him clean until there was no trace of sweat left and then start on the other side. You wanted to worship that man, pay tribute to his body in the only way you knew how.

Without much more thought your hand traveled into your exercise shorts and under your boxers, heading straight for where you wanted to be touched the most. Your fingers were met with moist heat as they slipped just far enough into your slit to gather that moisture and begin stroking your dick. You no longer cared that you were in the middle of the gym with your face buried in Price's dirty shirt and your hand down your pants. The only thing that mattered now was finding that release you had denied yourself for so long.

This wasn't going to take long at all. You were already on edge and panting into Price's shirt. You were trying to be quiet, but in the silence of the gym your moans could only be muffled so much by the dirty cloth. There was a buzzing in your body starting right behind your navel warning you that the end was near. You were going to cum. You were so close, just a little bit more pressure and you would be sent over the edge into oblivion.

“Can’t believe I forgot my- Oh!”

Your entire body froze. Like being submerged in a bathtub full of ice water. All the blood left your face as your eyes shot open to find Price just inside the doorway. His eyes were flitting between where your hand had disappeared in your shorts and the shirt currently pressed against your face, hiding everything except your shame filled eyes. “What do you think you’re doing, soldier? Out in the open like this?"

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What were you supposed to do now? You prayed to any god that would listen for them to take that moment and strike you down, putting you out of your misery. Your captain had just caught you jerking off in public, and there was no way to hide that you were thinking about him. And he was slowly getting closer. His gaze dark and stormy as he stalked towards you.

He was still shirtless, but the towel he left with was missing, giving you an unobscured view of Price’s hairy chest. You couldn't stop your eyes from dipping down to get a glimpse of his form once more. If this was going to be the end of your military career you wanted one last look before they sent you packing.

His hand gripped your chin tight, forcing you to meet his eyes. “You haven’t answered me, soldier. What were you doing? Tell me.”

You couldn’t speak. It felt like your tongue was plastered to the roof of your mouth, still frozen from the moment you were interrupted. Tremors wracked your body and your heart felt like it was trying to leave your chest. This must be what an animal feels like being hunted for sport. Toyed with, dragging out the hunt, delaying the inevitable only until the predator was left satisfied.

“Your hand is still in your pants.” He pulled his shirt out of your grasp and let his eyes settle on the waistband of your shorts. Now Price’s expression changed to something you hadn’t yet seen from the man. It was smug and condescending, but at the same time hungry.

“If you won’t tell me, I guess I’ll have to figure it out on my own.”

Price grabbed your wrist and started pulling. Finally your self preservation instincts started to kick in.

You struggled and fought against your captain, but he had you pinned on the floor under his large body in no time. His hips pressed down hard against yours, one of his muscular thighs wedged in between your legs. Any more friction there and you would be going off like a rocket, but you didn't dare move.

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment when he finally freed your hand from the confines of your pants. Your fingers were drenched and shiny with your slick when he brought your hand into the light.

Price softly tutted under his breath as he moved your hand this way and that, inspecting every inch of your wet skin, before bringing your fingers into his mouth.

"Mmmm..." Price hummed low in his throat as he savoured the taste of you on his tongue. "Think I know what you've been up to now."

Price slowly began rocking his hips against yours, and you could feel something firm and weighty through his thin grey joggers.

"Such a dirty boy. You just couldn't help yourself."

His gentle thrusting wasn't enough to get you off. Just enough to keep you on edge, though his voice alone was doing a good enough job of that, you didn't need that added friction. If he kept this up for too much longer you were going to explode, and not in a good way.

"Been teasing you all week. Wondered when you would break."

Price's words brought you back to reality. Back to every memory from this past week. All the extra friendly touches. The wardrobe changes. All the flashes of armpit too close to your face that you thought were accidents.

They had all been planned.

"What the fuck, Price?!" There were so many emotions bubbling in your chest, but the easiest to latch on to was anger.

Price's grip on you tightened and his hips were working just a bit faster as he growled in your ear. “What? You going to tell me you didn’t like it? That you don’t want me to smother you with my scent right now? Are you going to try to tell me you’re not drenched right now like a dirty fuckin’ slut waiting to be used?”

"Bastard." You mumbled without much heat into your shoulder as you tried to hide your face from your captain. Sure, all of this had been by his design, and you weren't really in trouble, but he had still scared the shit out of you. You were embarrassed and horny and still riding the adrenaline high from the fear. It was an intoxicating mixture of emotions.

You couldn't stop the deep moan that left your lips when Price's bristly beard scraped against your sensitive skin as he kissed up and down the column of your neck.

"So glad you took the bait," he whispered into your skin. "Didn't think I was going to last much longer. Loved seein' you like that. Such a sweet boy actin' like a slag."

You felt bereft as the weight of Price's body against yours was stolen from you, but his hands were back on your skin in no time as he pulled your pants down and off of one leg, leaving them to dangle from the ankle he pulled up and over his shoulder.

Price's mouth was divine. It was a gift from God. Maybe you had actually died in a freak gym related accident and this was what heaven was like.

He sucked your dick like it was his job. Just as focused on licking up and down your slit, tasting every bit of you, as he was on any mission out in the field.

His arms wrapped around your hips keeping you from bucking up and away from the terrible wonderful overbearing sensations.

Your eyes had closed the moment his mouth was on you, but when you finally opened them all you could see was the top half of his face, brows furrowed and eyes unblinking as his moustache moved in time with the ripples of pleasure coursing through your body.

"Please..." you gasped. Everything felt so good, but you wanted, no, you needed more. "Please let me taste you, Sir!"

Price's mouth left your cunt after a few last slurping sucks to your cock that left you shuddering and in one dizzying movement he had you flipped.

Price was now laying on his back, one arm tucked behind his head as he pulled his cock out of his pants, tucking the waistband behind his balls. He pulled the foreskin back and forth over the ridge of his glans. Not enough friction to cum just yet, but enough to ease the ache in his balls just a bit.

Once your eyes locked on to the man's pit and its garden of coarse hair you couldn't think of anything else. You dove face first into it, snuffling and licking, your attention solely focused on tasting more of him.

He was savoury and salty, pungent with musk, but not bitter with antiperspirant. He really had been planning this. Your captain wanted you dumb and drooling over his pits. Maybe even craved it just as much as you did.

You moved to straddle his hips, grabbing the hand that he was currently using to slowly jack himself off and raised it above his head. You had thoroughly licked over every inch of one pit and now you needed the other. In this new position you could now rub your dick up and down Price’s, leaving a warm wet trail in its wake. Price’s free hand went to your hip and pressed you down further against him. You both groaned at the same time when your folds slipped open and rested on each side of his cock. The slip and slide of your cocks against each other sent shock waves of pleasure through your body.

“Good boy,” Price murmured against the top of your head, hand running up under your shirt exploring your heated skin. “You my good boy?”

Your mouth was too busy licking and leaving sucking kisses against his fragrant skin to answer, so all he received in response was a muffled whine of affirmation as you frotted against him.

Between the slick friction on your dick, the scent and taste of Price overwhelming your senses, and his praises you were back to that sweet spot before you had been interrupted, right on the edge of oblivion and then some.

“I… I’m gonna…” you whined into his skin, huffing down more and more of his scent as your hips moved in a desperate staccato against his.

“Go on, be a good boy and cum for me.”

You felt his words more than you heard them. The rumbling in his chest vibrating against your face as stars erupted behind your tightly closed eyes. It was like the snap of a rubber band stretched too tight, pure ecstasy filled your veins and overflowed where you were connected to your captain.

Price let you ride out your aftershocks and folded you into his chest before bending his knees to plant his feet flat on the floor. His arms moved to grip you tight around the waist, clutching you even closer to his body as his hips pressed you up into the air. He began rolling his hips in fast and powerful thrusts, moaning and grunting into your ear as he whispered dirty promises to you.

“Gonna fill you up one day. Fuck you till you’re full and leaking. Watch it spill out and fuck it back in you again and again.”

You had only just cum and yet Price’s words had you on that precipice once more, overstimulating you, riding that edge of pain and pleasure until you burst again. This time gushing all over his cock as you felt thick ropes of his cum erupting between your bodies.

Neither of you moved afterwards. Both taking a moment to bask in the afterglow and catch your breath before you even thought about trying to clean up. Worried thoughts tried to rise up about what this would mean for your future in the Task Force, but you batted them away. You could think those thoughts later. What mattered right now was the warmth of the man beneath you.

[drawingcrows]

csm x tf2 au, ft some Boys

[thesilmarillionblog]

𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

Series Masterlist is here.

Summary: You and Soldier Boy want to create a family and move on from everything, even the Vought, but you also know that he has to face Homelander one last time to keep his vow to Butcher. However, nothing turns out as you had hoped.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: +18! (MINORS DNI), Heavy angst, hurt, memory loss, forced abortion, implied pregnancy, obsession, Soldier Boy gets hurt, reader gets hurt, established relationship, manipulation

Word Count: 4842

A/N: English is not my first language.

This is inspired by the song 'Remembrance' by Memoria Futuri.༊

You were alone in the coach watching TV when you heard the door open. You instantly got up and stared at Ben when your ruminations started to take over. He shot you a little smile that made your heart race. 

Ben sent you a meaningful look, and you followed him to his room just as Butcher and the others were getting into a fight.

His broad, powerful arms wrapped snugly around your entire body as he left his shield behind and gave you an instant hug. It was unclear who rushed to get into the arms of the other one first. You planted a gentle kiss on his neck, your fingers trailing behind the ends of his messy hair. 

With his gloved fingertips gently brushing your cheek, he whispered, “I missed you so fucking much.”

Between his hard kisses, you laughed and said, “It's only been two days. But I missed you too.”

After giving you a gentle kiss on the forehead, he began to remove his suit and smirked at you, saying, “Yeah, I'd miss me too. So, what did you do when I was away?”

“Actually, nothing. Kimiko and I just played some video gaming all day. I was losing all the time.” You laughed, “Well, I wouldn't want to win against a supe anyway.”

“How dare she?” he asked, smirking, as you stood up and gave him a hard-back hug. You then planted a strong kiss on his bare back and rested your cheek against it. 

“You act like you didn't miss me as much as I missed you, but you can't just keep your hands away from me, right?” Ben laughed, turned around, and gave you a tight squeeze while firmly holding your ass and giving you a passionate kiss. 

Your hands on his beard went into his hair and pulled, trying to stop him, as he pressed his shaft to your body a little too roughly and eagerly. You were moaning softly into his mouth. 

“Fuck, baby, don't you even tell me-.”

“I'm sore, quite a lot,” you said as soon as you smiled into his mouth. 

“I hate this word. It's been two days already,” he grumbled while keeping touch your body and applying a light pressure, showing his need for you. 

Your fingertips trailed seductively across his tense chest to make him go a little bit wild. “Well, you shouldn't have fucked me all day until I couldn't move just because you would be staying away for only two days,” you said with a giggle. 

He whispered, “You're enjoying this, aren't you?” and planted long kisses on your neck, seemingly trying to convince you change your idea. 

“Of course not,” you muttered as you watched adjusting himself in his sweatpants while maintaining eye contact and then abruptly letting you go with a grunt after giving your ass a little slap. 

“I'll...give you something,” he said, as if he had suddenly remembered a certain thing. “I actually bought you something.” 

With an excited question, “What is it?” You tried to see what was hidden in his hands as he gave you an affectionate little smile. 

“You know those cocksucker CIA bitches pay me well nowadays, as they should, and I'm aware of the fact the fact that I didn't buy you a gift at all, though we have been together for almost a year,” he said. He threw the box aside, showed you a nice ring, and took your hand gently into his, placing it before you could even react. “Do you like it?”

You eventually said, “It's so beautiful,” as you gazed in awe at the ring on your finger. “Ben, this is the most beautiful gift I have ever received. Thank you.” 

Ben took a breath of relief and stilled his hand around your belly. When he was watching, you were looking admiringly at the ring. A proud smile appeared on his face. “You know, once I'm done with Butcher, his crew, and Homelander tomorrow, everything will be different, right?”

When he spoke of the following day, the atmosphere grew more dense. Since he was growing harder to handle every day, you had been under a lot of stress for the past few weeks, but you tried not to show it to him in order to keep him from becoming more concerned. 

You nodded to him and said, “I know.” 

“Hey, it's going to be easy, and I'll be finished with all of them. Like we planned earlier, we'll begin a new life somewhere else. Just you and me.”

Ben's hands lingered around your neck and bare shoulders, giving you the most genuine smile. 

To break the tense air, you teased, “Are you sure you want to share a life with me, away from the company?” as he gently pulled you up and laid you down on the bed in between your small laughs. 

“I shouldn't think about that for the second time,” he muttered, smirking at you as he noticed your face falling. 

You asked him, “What would happen if you thought about it for a second time, though?” and gently hit him, taking care not to injure yourself. 

“Well, I guess you'll never know, so I better not think about it at all,” Ben said, his smile widening as he saw your reaction to it. 

“Asshole,” you gave him a chest slap. 

He grumbled, “I just gave you a ring, and your ungrateful mouth has already started to bite me,” taking advantage of your weak spot to begin tickling you. 

You were so oversensitive that you cried while laughing and shouted in between when he kept tickling you mercilessly. 

“Try calling me names like that once more. Do you want to speak now? Did your tongue get caught by a cat?” As he was on top of you and you were attempting to shove his hands away as if you could ever manage it, he chuckled. 

You choked out, “Bear Dick. Idiot,” and he gave you even more tickling. “All right, please forgive me. I promise not to speak such vile words to you again, sir, Soldier Boy.”

He ended his game with you and said, “Oh, yeah?” He was obviously amused that you addressed him by his supe name. “Are you going to be a good girl?” 

You spoke softly, “I will,” in between gasps. “Aren't I always?” 

Ben pushed himself between your thighs and said, “I don't know; I need to be reminded,” making you feel his hardness. “I might have a weak memory.”

Although you both understood that you couldn't give him everything he desired at this time, that didn't mean you were unable to fulfill his needs. 

As you put your palm over his cock through his sweatpants and muttered, “It's clear,” It was insane that he hadn't softened at all. “I guess I might have to show you how good I am at this point.”

He groaned softly and watched as he removed his huge cock from his pants, placing his hands on both sides of your head. Considering how little your hand was in comparison to his hardness, it made you feel even more horny. 

You made him go a little bit crazy by asking him, in an innocent tone, “What do you need me to do?” Even though you knew you were going too far because you knew he was dying to get inside, you couldn't help but torture him. 

Your thumb pushed the sensitive tip of his redened cock before he could say anything, causing him to growl loudly and curse. “You like it, don't you? You like driving me insane by refusing to let me fuck your cunt.”

Whispering, “Maybe,” you gathered the pre-cum and placed it on your lips while staring directly into his eyes. 

“Fuck that,” he grumbled, quickly picking up your nightgown and ripping off your underwear before tossing it onto the bed. Perhaps you were pushing your luck a little too hard. 

“Ben, I really want it too, but I'm sore,” you muttered, your hands coming to a stop on his rough flesh. 

With a moan, he murmured, “Calm down; unfortunetely I won't fuck you,” and spread your legs. You both groaned as you felt his cock on your pussy. “But it doesn't mean that I can't enjoy feeling you.”

“Use both hands,” he said, and you promptly followed his instructions. When he took over, his body temperature was really high. “Tighter.” 

“Are you sure?” you questioned in a doubtful tone. “I don't want to hurt you.” 

“You think you can hurt me, baby?” he said, placing a possessive fingertips on your chin as the corner of his lips curled. “Now, use both hands to hold it tightly as much as you can.”

His moan was satisfied when you hesitantly followed his instructions, and his strong grasp on your chin caused your heart to speed up. He began to move his hips and slide into your hands between his groans, fucking into them since your palms were slippery with his pre-cum. 

The sound of his heavy balls hitting your clit filled the bedroom, making your cheeks flush. 

Ben moaned, “Come on, baby, do it tighter,” and in an effort to maintain control, he placed both of his hands firmly on both sides of your belly on the sheets. You were getting hornier seeing him try to be gentle with you when all he wanted to do was be rough. You sensed that your pussy was already wet. 

You were doing everything in your power to hold him as tightly as possible in compliance with his orders, but his power was unmatched and was quickly fucking into your hands, making it more difficult for you to grip his cock. 

He immediately groaned in protest when you withdrew one of your hands, but he waited for you to make another move. You both gasped as you began to give him a hard, forceful pump. His veins were clearly apparent, and you could tell he was getting close because he felt considerably heavier. 

He gently moved your hand away with hardness before you could ask him anything. Ben pressed himself on your pussy, moving himself up and down with forceful movements, both fisted hands on both sides of the sheet as he stroked his cock against your wetness. 

Your walls clenched, and you lifted your hips to match his motions. When he began kissing you, you tried to stop your moaning in his mouth by placing your hands on his biceps and holding on tightly.

Ben watched you with an intense glare as your walls began to tighten around nothingness and you started shaking from your climax.

He mumbled, “Yeah, just like that, baby,” as you continued to scream and orgasm.

As soon as your orgasmic effects subsided, Ben grabbed your torn underwear from the bed and began to spill himself over it in front of your startled eyes. Between his grunts, you kept your hands on his flexing biceps as he continued to spill his thick ropes on your torn underwear.

He gasped and beat his cock a little harder to totally spill himself. “I'll come inside you next time,” he said. 

You teased him, “You better,” as your fingers worked over his tense muscles. 

“You little tease,” he said as he finished throwing your ripped underwear on the ground and planting a forceful kiss on your forehead and neck. 

You yawned, and Ben embraced you in his warm arms and adjusted your nightie very gently, right after he'd shoved his dick back into his sweatpants. 

“You smell exceptionally nice these days,” he said, continuing to smell your neck and hair. 

“So you're telling me I smell bad normally?” 

“Of course, that wasn't what I meant, my dear. You're also a little more sensitive than normal, huh? And pretty  dizzy.” To calm you down, Ben planted a kiss on the corners of your mouth. 

You silently said, “Maybe it's because you're touching my nerves, old man,” and buried your head in his heated chest. You must have felt exhausted in such a short period of time due to the powerful orgasm. 

“Behave. You were so docile and obedient moments ago.” You gasped in surprise as Ben gave you a light slap on your bare ass and said, “Now your claws are back, I see.”

You moaned out, “Let me sleep,” resting one leg on his. 

He laughed as he saw you practically nod off in a matter of seconds. 

Ben immediately whispered, “I love you,” causing your lips to curl with happiness and your heart to melt. He was undoubtedly aware of how these three words would affect you. 

“I know, and I love you.”

You felt Ben's lips curve on your hair as his arms tightened around your entire body. 

You gave Ben a small smile, hoping that this day would end as soon as possible, while Butcher, Ben, and the others were talking about what to do in Vought Tower when they encountered Homelander.

“Now, you're all going inside, behind this door, and waiting for us, ladies.”

“What are you doing?” Annie answered immediately, and Hughie gave her support against Butcher and Maeve.

“We don't need any more issues than necessary. It's Vought Tower that we're going to go to, not some ordinary place. Now, get inside, dear one.”

Hughie, Frenchie, and Annie began to argue with Butcher, telling him they wouldn't divulge what they were commanded, but Ben threatened them all by simply touching his gun, so they all gave in.

Just as you were taking a step back, Ben slapped your ass and urged you gently into the vast space with a mischievous smirk on his face.

“You get inside, especially,” Ben muttered, disregarding all of your complaints. “Be a good girl.”

Ben gave you a wink before they closed the door. You wished you could have assisted him there; you wanted to be with him.

Annie and Kimiko finally succeeded in breaking through the thick, locked door after a great deal of effort.

You immediately said, “I'll come with you too,” in a serious manner. Before anyone else rejected you, you stated, “I'm not the only regular human here. As a member of the team, I will be coming.”

You sighed with relief as Frenchie and MM finally nodded at you after exchanging an odd look.

Thanks to Annie, you were able to enter Vought Tower despite its difficulty. Given how easily Ben was able to smell you, you intended to keep an eye on the issue from a distance so as not to burden or distract him. On the other hand, your eyes grew wide as you noticed Ben and Butcher fighting. Actually, Butcher was the one who attacked him nonstop. Annie looked on in disbelief as Frenchie and MM hurriedly fled the area with some things in their hands.

You cried out, “Butcher!” with fury as soon as you witnessed Butcher unleash his super lasering powers on Ben. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“And what the hell are you doing here?” Ben shoved Butcher to the ground, gave him a disgusted look, and roared back. “Get the fuck out of here.”

His shield was shattered.

When you went to Annie and Kimiko to tell them to take action and find a solution to this situation, they both attacked Ben as well, backing Butcher. Your heart was racing behind your chest as Butcher and Ben continued to fight and hit each other.

When her eyes began to shine with maximum intensity, you cried as loudly as you could, “Annie, stop this madness,” but no one was paying attention. You could have found and utilized one right now if you hadn't injected yourself with enough Temp-V.

Ben violently grabbed Kimiko by the neck and threw her. Before you even knew what was going on and attempted to break up Butcher and Ben's intense fight, Butcher threw you against the closest table with such force that your head was hurting so badly that you were unable to find the strength to get back up.

It felt like the back of your head was bleeding, as was your lower stomach. You continued to mumble Ben's name until you lost consciousness. You were quite concerned for Ben when you last saw them trying to put gas on his face in an attempt to get him to fall back asleep. He was betrayed by his team another time, and you couldn't even stop it.

It was unfair and cruel because, if you could only get it through today, you and Ben would have too many dreams come true.

Ben watched you lose consciousness as a result of Butcher throwing you away, acting as though it didn't matter that you were a frail human and that you would die there. His chest began to glow—it was actually burning—at that moment. He was completely out of control just by looking at you, even though you were still breathing.

He knew that you needed him, so he wanted to stop himself. If he had blown up right now, he wouldn't have cared if he killed everyone in his immediate vicinity, but he could have killed you in less than a second as well. Yet Ben's reasonable rage towards Butcher and everyone else persisted. He began to lose consciousness, but thankfully, Queen Maeve grabbed him and leaped out of the window before he exploded. You would be alright; at least your heartbeats were still strong.

As the gas put Soldier Boy to sleep once more, Butcher and the others inhaled deeply as they observed his hauntingly dozing body on the bed, prepared for his return to Russia. When Butcher first spoke with the CIA about it a year ago, it was already part of the plan. However, because Homelander was still alive and they all risked everything for nothing, Butcher just didn't know it would be carried out in this way, and the whole operation was a complete failure.

Kimiko began speaking hurriedly in sign language, concerned for you, as she carefully picked up your unconscious body and laid it on the table.

Frenchie exclaimed, “Kimiko is right. We have to take her to the hospital. She is bleeding from the head and everywhere.”

“Alright, you're right. Since I'm the one who did the job, I'll take care of this, right?” Butcher muttered in a rough tone. “Frenchie and Kimiko, follow me. It looks like cleaning up this mess is going to take some time. Right now, we can't go to the hospital.”

Butcher had contacted a long-time medical acquaintance of his who handled sensitive cases with undercover agents in order to maintain confidentiality when necessary. He knew two doctors to solve this mess, fortunately. Once they had a conversation and you had given them the information they required, they put you in the cold bed, and Kimiko did her best to wipe the blood off your head.

One of the doctors stated after an hour, “She seems fine, but I can't guarantee that her brain is functioning properly.”

“What the heck do you mean?” With a glance at your sleeping body, Butcher asked.

“Her brain injury appears to be rather severe. Memory loss is quite likely. Of course, we can't be certain of anything. She is, nevertheless, physically alright.”

“Well, as long as she's alive, it wouldn't be all that horrible.” Butcher smirked and put his hands in his pockets with a smug expression on his face. Kimiko gave him a hideous look and was clearly upset with him. “I'm sure there are many things she wants to forget anyway,” Butcher said.

“But it's going to be difficult for her to accept her pregnancy at this point,” the doctor said, looking at him perplexed.

“The fuck?” Butcher cried out, hands on his hips, gaze locked on your abdomen as he studied your unconscious body. “Are you fucking with me? Are you positive, for sure?”

“Mon Dieu,” the Frenchie muttered. “That's not good.”

The doctor added, “Of course we are sure,” as he held the files in his hands.

“However, she is still extremely early in her pregnancy. Perhaps not even she knows it herself.”

The doctor continued, even before Butcher reacted. “There's more. It does not appear to be a typical pregnancy.”

“For god’s sake, give me some slack. What do you mean at this point?” Butcher yelled out.

“I'm trying to say that it appears to be a fully developed fetus developing inside her. The fetus appears to be in excellent health based on what I can tell from her results. It's definitely a supe baby.”

Kimiko and Frenchie exchanged a look, and her eyes grew wide. For a minute, silence engulfed the room, and none of them could think of anything to say.

Butcher inhaled deeply and narrowed his gaze as he studied your figure, his mind racing with ideas. “So you're telling me she's pregnant with a supe baby, right?”

The doctor said, “That's exactly what I'm telling you. Who's the father, by the way?”

The doctor stared at Butcher, Frenchie, and Kimiko curiously while they looked at each other, troubled. They weren't entirely certain about the nature of your relationship with Soldier Boy, but they were aware that you two had a sexual interaction. They were aware that you only ever saw him and that you didn't know other super heroes than Soldier Boy.

“It's classified.” Butcher immediately cut it off. “All right, prepare her for the abortion. She must get rid of this thing right away to prevent the situation from getting out of hand.”

“What?” Frenchie yelled; he was horrified by Butcher's callousness and his discussion of killing your unborn child as if it were no big deal.

With a furious look on her face, Kimiko grabbed Butcher by the chest and began yelling in sign language.

“Kimiko is exactly right. You have no business deciding what to do with her body. It's between her and him. Fuck off, Butcher. You're being too much.”

“Are you two fucking out of minds?” Butcher screamed, his nerves already raw from what had transpired. “Obviously, I wouldn't make this choice if she was carrying a typical fetus rather than the most dangerous one. Are you even mindful of what happened to my Becca?”

Butcher had never considered talking about Becca and had disliked discussing his past, but with Kimiko and Frenchie staring at him with disapproval, he realized that he had to. He had to try, even though he knew they would never be able to understand fully.

“She was treated by the most skilled physicians in Vought when she became pregnant by—you know who. Do you know what happened? The monster that was growing inside her womb destroyed every organ and tore her stomach apart when her water broke in an attempt to go out. There, she fucking nearly died in her bloody bed. Almost.” Butcher spat forth his hatred, emphasizing every word in order to make clear the gravity of the situation. “Y/N will never survive this. She also took a great amount of Tempt-V in the past few months. Her body is already too fragile.”

“Don't give me that kind of look. I'm not enjoying this, but someone needs to make important decisions for the better,” Butcher angrily remarked to Kimiko, who remained expressionless and continued to gaze at him with hatred, as though he were her biggest enemy. “It appears that she will likely suffer from memory loss without realizing it. Since we already took care of the matter there, she can start fresh. That man will never enter her life again after all, okay?”

“No matter what,” Frenchie inhaled deeply. He didn't like what was happening and was concerned by it. “She'll be living a lie. This is wrong.”

Butcher interrupted him as he was getting close to your sleeping body on the white bed, saying, “Shut the fuck up. What she is unaware of is not going to hurt her. Here is where we are going to solve this situation. After all, we are in the business of killing supes. Stop complicating things and becoming overly sensitive.”

“Screw you.” Frenchie retreated a step. “You're discussing the murder of a baby. Whether or not it's a supe doesn't matter. I refuse to participate in this.”

“Are you truly aware of what will happen to her if she gives birth? First of all, she is not going to survive and will die in childbirth. Second, Vought will learn of the baby's existence and raise it to become their new puppet, capable of murdering others for amusement. Numerous people will be harmed by it. We cannot handle one more offspring of a bastard. Get your ass act straight and quit being so fucking emotional because she won't even know this.”

If Butcher hadn't been on Temp-V, Kimiko's hands could have crushed his chest from giving him such a severe shove by the chest. She kept the same expression on her face and kept on utilizing sign language.

“From now on, nothing can stop me, so you two go fuck out of here. She'll be alright when this nightmare is over. We are all fortunate to have discovered this crap earlier than she did, and her mental health will benefit even more from the assistance with her memory loss.”

“Come on Kimiko, let's go,” Frenchie mumbled while examining your body with sympathy. He understood that nothing would work out the way Butcher planned since it was now beyond disaster. This was not good.

Kimiko tried to talk to Frenchie, but he said, “It's not our job. This is bigger than us, Kimiko. Let's just get the fuck out of there.”

She had an expression of despair on her face, and despite her repeated attempts to speak with Frenchie, he begged her to get out of the chilly, desolate room as soon as possible. They unwillingly exited, leaving you in the room alone with three monsters.

A doctor said, “Butcher, we have known each other for years, and I know you are not a bad guy, but we cannot just kill her baby without her permission.”

Butcher inhaled deeply as he placed a finger on your covered abdomen and uttered, “That's not an innocent baby there; that's a monster, a natural Supe, and a potential killer. You already know that the CIA never approves such things. We will not permit the birth of any more Homelanders. Fucking do it already and keep your mouth shut; you'll be paid handsomely.”

The female doctor began to get ready to do the procedure. “We don't want to deal with an issue if she or the man she got pregnant by finds out this,” she stated.

“They won't; this will remain a secret, and nobody will ever discuss it, so let's be positive; she doesn't remember anything, am I right? How fortunate we are to live in a nation where medicine and technology are so advanced. That would be very helpful as well, my dear.” Butcher winked at the doctor, acting as though everything was normal.

Butcher scowled when he noticed the elegant green ring on your finger after they had both briefly left the room. He had no idea what this meant or even whether it was from Soldier Boy, but it was preferable to leave no trace and not take any more chances. He removed your ring from your finger and threw it into the closest tin in the room for this reason.

After what seemed like an hour of waiting, they eventually finished the procedure, and Butcher exhaled with relief when he was informed that it was finished. Where Butcher tossed your ring, they threw the dead fetus that was removed from your body in cold blood. Everything was in order.

Butcher spoke with the doctors about your condition once more, ensuring that you slept until you had fully recovered physically. He also paid them off and reminded them not to discuss what had happened with anyone else.

He knew you would soon be alright.

Next Chapter

⋆⋅☆⋆☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋆☆⋅⋆

A/N: Here we go… Comments are very much appreciated. I’d like to know what you think about this one.  ♡

Taglist: @smexydilflover @deebris @coolrobloxkid28 @endrfairy @libby99hb @raynamorono23 @cwutesygrl @ladysparkles78 @seokjinluvb0t   @deangirl96 @whendiditendalthoughenjoyment @mostlymarvelgirl

⤹ Let me know if you want to be tagged. ༊·˚

[headspace-hotel]

Researching herbicide resistance in weeds.

A decade ago, everyone said rotating applications of different herbicides was key to stopping herbicide resistance.

Then, around 2015, evidence from a large study emerged saying that this actually causes weeds to be MORE resistant, so the best thing to do is to spray a combination of multiple herbicides mixed together at once.

Now that is being called into question too. Whoda thunk it...

Herbicide resistance among weeds is only getting stronger. Recently, scientists found an annual bluegrass (Poa annua) on a golf course that was resistant to seven herbicide modes of action at once. Seven. SEVEN. Amaranth plants been found with resistance to six herbicide modes of action at once. Twenty years ago, the narrative was that resistance to glyphosate (Roundup) was unlikely to become widespread; today it's the second-most common type of resistance.

What's more, plants are developing types of herbicide resistance that are effective against multiple herbicides at once and harder to detect. Instead of changing the chemical processes within them that are affected by the herbicides so the herbicides don't work as well, they're changing the way they absorb chemicals in the first place. Resistant plants are producing enzymes that detoxify the herbicides before they even enter the plants' cells.

It took Monsanto ten years to develop crop varieties resistant to Dicamba (after weeds made 'Roundup Ready' crops pointless). Palmer amaranth evolved Dicamba resistance in five years.

So I asked, "Why are all the proposed solutions dependent on using more herbicides, when we know damn well that this is going to do nothing but make the weeds evolve faster?"

The answer is that chemical companies have the world in a death grip. They can't make money off non-chemical solutions, so chemical solutions get all the funding, research, and outreach to farmers.

But why do chemical companies have so much power?

One of the biggest reasons is the U.S. military.

In the Vietnam war, all of Vietnam was sprayed with toxic herbicides like Agent Orange, which was incredibly toxic to humans and affected the Vietnamese population with horrible illnesses and birth defects. Monsanto, the company that made the herbicides, knew that it did this, but didn't tell anyone. The US government didn't admit that they'd poisoned humans on a mass scale until Vietnam veterans started dying and coming down with horrible illnesses, and even then, it took them 40 years. (My Papaw died at 60 because of that stuff.) And the soldiers weren't there for very long. As for the Vietnamese people, the soil and water where they live is contaminated.

Similarly, during the "war on drugs," the US military sprayed Roundup and other chemicals on fields to destroy coca plants and other plants used in the manufacturing of drugs. This killed a lot of crops that farmers needed to live, and caused major health problems in places such as Columbia. The US government said that people getting sick were lying and that Roundup was just as safe as table salt. (A statement that did not age well.)

So chemical companies make money off arming the USA military. The American lawn care industry, and the agricultural system, therefore originates in more than one way from the United States's war-mongering.

The other major way is described in this article (which I highly recommend), which describes how after WW2, chemical plants used for manufacturing explosives were changed into fertilizer producing plants, but chemical companies couldn't market all that fertilizer to farmers, so they invented the lawn care industry. No exaggeration, that's literally what happened.

This really changes my perspective on all the writings about fixing the agricultural system. The resources are biased towards the use of chemicals in agriculture because the companies are so powerful as to make outreach and research for non-chemical methods of agriculture really hard to fund. All the funding is in finding new ways to spray chemicals or spraying slightly different chemicals, because that's what you can actually get ahold of money to look into. It is like the research has to negotiate a truce with the chemical companies, suggesting only solutions that won't cause lower profits.

Meanwhile my respect for Amaranth is skyrocketing.

Who would win: The USA military-industrial complex or one leafy boi

[rifari2037]

They talked about cultural differences?? Really??? I laughed so hard 🤣

Do they realised that air and water are different too?? That their cultural are completely opposite???

Water tribe people killed animals for food, furniture, clothes, etc. That's their culture! Air nomads don't killed animals, even a fly, for any reasons, they're vegetarian. That's their culture!!

There's nothing wrong with both cultures, but if we think about it with sense, can two people with extreme cultural differences marry and accept each other's cultures easily?

No, it won't be easy. Katara and Aang got married without any problems about cultural differences because Bryke were the writers!

Do they know that Aang/Kataang stand was aware about it and wrote this???

Do they even realise that in canon Aang doesn't really like Water Tribe culture?? Yes, that's CANON!!

Katara : Bato, it looks like home! [Bato, Katara, Sokka, and Aang file inside.] Sokka : Everything's here, even the pelts! Aang : [Sarcastically.] Yeah, nothing's cozier than dead animal skins.

Katara : [Surprised and delighted.] No way! Stewed sea prunes! Bato : Help yourself! Sokka : Dad could eat a whole barrel of these things! Aang takes a bowl of stewed sea prunes and sniffs it, but looks away in disgust and sets it to the side.

Aang : Hey everyone! Sorry I was gone so long. Katara : [Turns to face him.] Hey, Aang, I didn't notice you left. Aang : Yup, but now I'm back. [Sitting down.] Sure could go for some delicious sea prunes! Aang quickly takes some bites of sea prunes, but chokes them back up, yet he pretends to enjoy them. Katara, Bato, and Sokka look at him strangely.

Hama : I wanted to surprise you! I bought all this food today so I could fix you a big Water Tribe dinner. Of course, I can't get all the ingredients I need here, but ocean kumquats are a lot like sea prunes if you stew them long enough. Aang : [Sticking his tongue out in disgust.] Great!

Aang : [Whispering to Toph.] I'd steer clear of the sea prunes. Toph : I thought they were ocean kumquats. Aang : Close enough.

Oh, btw, An ocean kumquat is a small, round fruit often consumed in the Fire Nation. That's close enough with sea prunes, water tribe cuisine.

When Aang doesn't like water tribe cuisine, I can imagine Zuko and Katara having dinner, sharing water tribe and fire nation dishes and they enjoying it because it taste similar. 😂

Fire and water are the opposite elements, that's why they are compliment each other.

Yin and Yang shows a balance between two opposites with a portion of the opposite element in each section.

Remember what Iroh said about the elements? Let's see if fire and water don't mix together, especially for Zuko and Katara.

"Fire is the element of power..."

"...The people of the Fire Nation have desire and will, and the energy and drive to achieve what they want."

"Water is the element of change..."

"...The people of the Water Tribe are capable of adapting to many things..."

"...They have a deep sense of community and love that holds them together through anything."

Young Zuko : [Zuko is shown standing up.] You can't sacrifice an entire division like that! Those soldiers love and defend our nation! How can you betray them?

Zuko and Katara would bicker and not get along well, they said?? Really??

Every time Katara is mad, Zuko just silent and listen to her. Even when they're still enemies!!

Oh, btw, Katara not 'always' threatened Zuko to kill him if he hurt Aang. It happened once. She is still mad at him not because of Aang, but because he betrayed her.

That's personal to her, she is mad not because he hurt someone else but he hurt her. I mean, if she really mad at him because of Aang, why is she connected her anger at Zuko to her mom, not Aang (again)?

And after this moment, after Katara by her own choice, forgives Zuko, do Zuko and Katara always bickering and not get along at all??? No, they're not!!

Zuko gives Katara advice, Katara listens. Katara gives Zuko advice, Zuko listens.

They reassure each other at a very important moment.

Lastly, I don't understand how Zuko and Katara, who they said would never get along, always save each other lives, even Zuko sacrifice his life to her?

[trulyumai]

To Love and Forget

Pairing: Messmer x Reader

synopsis: The red haired knight didn’t love easily, but with his wife, it was thoughtless.

Warnings: None

A/N: Can you tell this man has me in a trance? Cause I’m Messmerized ;) (Okay I’m sorry enjoy the story)

Will his wife adore him, even with the scorched bodies left in his wake?

“We should visit soon, my love. I need to restock the kitchen.”

Messmer sat by the fire, watching as crimson and amber flames caressed the wooden logs. It crumbled under such intense heat, yet he observed regardless, as the pile turned to ash.

His beloved wife stirred a worn silver pot in the kitchen. The aroma of something savory wafted, momentarily drawing him from his troubled thoughts.

“Hm? Where to?”

Pale fingers brushed the man’s chin lightly, out of habit.

Truthfully, he hadn’t been listening as attentively as usual. On any other occasion, Messmer would be beside her, aiding and showering his wife with kisses as he deemed fit. She would giggle, flashing her bright smile, and likely try to push him away before resuming her culinary duties.

But this night was different

His patience wore thin; and so did his soldiers. They lay fallen in the yellowed wheat fields, swords piercing their backs. A surprise attack had sealed their fate, led by whom? Messmer didn’t know, flames began to dance across his pink and white knuckles with a methodical rhythm.

“The town, my love! I ran out of yeast the night before.”

“The town?” The knight gripped his knee harshly with his right hand. Unbeknownst to him, his wife hummed in agreement and turned to gaze at him.

“Mmh, I thought I would go in the morning. Save myself the trouble for—”

“Darling, I’m sure whatever you think you need can wait.”

His neck turned slightly towards her, earning a frown. She grasped the light blue apron around her middle, looking confusedly at her husband through her lashes. The room grew unbearably warm, a telltale sign of Messmer’s anger—disappointment, occasionally.

She could see his blazing eyes from here. Hells, they illuminated most of the living room.

“But… darling, our—”

“Enough. Wife.”

He stood taller now; she had to crane her neck back to meet his fiery gaze.

“It’s not safe. You’ll wait.”

Messmer approached, his maroon hair swaying with each step. In seconds, he was before her, appearing torn between worry and contempt.

She refused to meet his gaze any longer, unable to comprehend his displeasure.

Yet Messmer persisted. His index finger traced the skin around her chin, urging it upward with gentle pressure.

Now he stood with a gaze of love, mingled with sympathy. How swiftly he could change—she would never understand. His emotions had become less predictable lately; just the other day, he incinerated a field when a direbear had ventured too close.

She had regarded him then with the same eyes—worry, concern. He hadn’t acknowledged it, merely placing his hand back on her waist and continuing.

Just a he was doing now, ignoring the present.

“Forgive me, my love, I’ve been ah— distracted.” Noticing the change in atmosphere, his fingers found home in her hair, they stroked and smoothed over it with newfound patience.

“Distracted?” Her head rested upon his hand now, it engulfed it instantly.

“With what?”

He laughed.

It was small— and not the humorous kind.

“It’s nothing that should ail you, darling.”

His form bent over, and she felt the man’s forehead tap hers adoringly.

His eyes stared right into her own, they were half lidded and the knight held a light smile upon his face.

“Let me do the worrying, hm?”

His nose bumped with hers, and soon their lips touched. She felt his breath waft across her lips— her cheeks.

It was warm, and smelled of a cider he had made earlier that day.

“Kiss me, darling?” He pleaded.

And who was she to deny such a man of power?

The girl leaned in, now on her tiptoes as her soft mouth collided with his chapped one.

The maroon knight let out a groan, his knees almost buckled for how much he had to hold back from the poor girl.

So as a distraction, he pulled away, and began to kiss and suck the skin of her neck, making his way to her perfect jawline.

“But what about ah— “

A light kiss.

“The food—“

Another bite.

His chin met her shoulder, his lips grazed the bottom of her ear.

“Should you worry about that now, dear wife?”

His voice was deep, gravelly from the amount of lust bestowed upon his body.

The woman squeaked, embarrassed such an action would fluster her so.

“Its just ah— what would we do for to— morrow?"

Sharply, his arms sagged down, and his hands met with the back of her legs.

Quickly he acted, and pulled each of her legs across his muscled torso.

Now face to face, the man walked backwards, towards the well worn stairs leading to their shared bedside.

She laughed, her head bobbed to the side and he couldn’t help but let out a timber one of his own.

His wife’s arms looped around his wide shoulders, and met just behind his neck.

“Do not concern yourself with such frivolous tasks, my love.” He began his kisses once more,

each laid a different love bite.

One pink

One purple

“For tonight, I found my feast, mmh?”

She poked at the pale man’s cheek.

“Who knew you could hold such a flirtatious remark?” She teased, and Messmer clicked his tongue before tossing her lightly upon the mattress.

His wife’s hair engulfed the pillows, it surrounded her like a halo and he swore he’d remember such an image for the rest of his days. No matter the cost.

He’ll see her eyes before his future slumbers

Hear her laugh before the numerous fights to come on the battlefield

Eventually, when his last breath graces his lips, he’ll taste her there, feel the breath of hers brush past his vicinity.

He’ll remember such love filled eyes

He’ll remember what she smelled like— elder flowers and apples.

He’ll remember she loved him.

And that he loved her.

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

The Soldier Of Death (4)- Fighting The Enemy

Natasha Romanoff X Super Soldier Reader 18+

Summary: Soldat Smerti. The Soldier of Death. You were the perfect weapon: loyal, obedient, and merciless, or so Hydra thought. What happens when these traits are put to the test? Your captivity in the Avenger's tower and the presence of a redhead makes you realise you didn't have to be a monster. The question was though; Did Hydra make you the monster or were you always one?

This fic will contains dark themes. Please read these warnings before starting any of these chapters: graphic descriptions of murder, violence, gore and torture, heavy angst, mental issues.

Please consider these warnings before reading

Word Count: 2.3k

General Masterlist | The Soldier Of Death Masterlist

Chapter Warning: Graphic Depiction of Violence and murder, dark thoughts

—

Crimson stained your hands, the warm liquid slowly dripping down your forearms as you leaned over the body, fragments of skull blending with flesh and brain being held in your trembling hands.

Eyes pleaded you for their life as you stood over their body, words spilling desperately out of their lips as they stared up at you, begging for you to take mercy. Their pleas were cut short, blood splattering on the floor behind them, the life gradually draining out of their eyes.

A gut wrenching cry was torn out of their throat when your hand forced its way past skin and bones, fingers roughly gripping onto their intestines, squeezing with vigour for another primal sound to be ripped out of them before pulling hard, their body falling limp to the ground. A small squelch follows when you drop the organ next to their corpse, not even giving the scene a second glance.

Your hand hits the side of your head as you twitch it to the side, shaking the thoughts out of your mind, trying to focus on your mission.

Your mind was slowly fracturing into pieces, various memories flooding your thoughts as you walked through the eerie hallway, boots echoing in the abandoned space. You weren't sure what had happened, the only thing that you knew for certain was that you were to obey. You didn't have a choice. It was engraved in you. Listen to them. Kill for them. That was all you had to do.

No we don't.

We are better than them.

We aren't a toy for them to play with.

Your jaw clenched at the irritating voice sounding around in your head again, merging with the violent flashbacks, further adding to your unpleasant mood. You were a weapon. Weapons didn't need to think. They just kill. Yet, the incessant part of you was adamant we were stronger, more powerful than them, we could do anything if you just gave over control.

Yes, see, you're getting it now. Give me control.

"So what? You can murder everyone," you mutter out loud, the mask muffling your words as you argue with your alter ego, knowing that, despite the things you have done based on the flashbacks, the things they have done... They were darker, more sinister, they enjoyed it. You didn't. You never would. You did what you had to do to survive.

It's what they deserve.

You want to scream at the voice, begging it to shut up. Yes they deserve to die for what they had done to you but you weren't going to be the ones to kill them.

Every time you come back, you somehow try to be more virtuous.

It groans, a scoff leaving you. You were trying to make up for the things you had done, be a little more merciful, there was nothing wrong with that.

You can't. We can't be good anymore. There's no point in trying to redeem us. We're already a monster, there's no changing that.

At its words, you remain silent, doing your best to ignore them as you wander through the hallways, your eyes focussing on small indents on the wall.

A violent scream was torn out of you, your hands doing everything in their power to stop the guards dragging you back to your cell, your veins burning with agony as the serum entered your bloodstream. Your fingers dug into the concrete, leaving indents as you pried away at the stone, desperately trying to stop them from taking you back.

You shook your head once more, the painful memory soon fading away, leaving you confused. You suddenly seemed to recognise the building you were in, your fingers slotting against the marks, the handprints slightly smaller, your mind too broken to place the significance of the memory.

Pushing down the screams echoing in your mind and shaking off the further memories that invaded your thoughts, you worked your way around the building, searching for the room you were instructed to find. All you knew was that there was a flash drive in there that Hydra needed to keep out of the Avengers' hands, the team apparently gaining intel on this base.

You weren't expecting them to locate it yet nor for them to be in the base, but your general warned you to stay on guard, the order more difficult than expected due to the instability of your mind.

You were nearly at the room but a gnawing feeling made you pause in your tracks, head tilting curiously at the room you were stopped outside of, your hand moving without thought to open the door, revealing the dark and empty concrete cell. You swallowed nervously at the sight of dry blood staining the walls, the floor and even parts of the ceiling, another flashback painfully invading your minds, causing you to lose focus.

***

"I don't have a good feeling about this Steve," Natasha mutters while the two of them enter the base, Wanda entering through a different exit, the team confident in her magic ability and training to handle herself.

"Neither," he sighs out in agreement, their bodies almost silently walking through the abandoned building, Natasha taking the corridors to the left while Steve went right, splitting off to cover more ground.

Nerves etched away at Natasha, the spy confused at the sudden emotion she was feeling. She never got nervous, so why was she on edge? Her gun was firmly gripped in her hand, creeping through the hallways with it raised, ready to fire if needed.

Emerald green searched through various corridors, her eyes glossing over with crestfallen look at the marks all over the wall, indicating a clear struggle all the way down the hall until it reached the isolated steel door at the end. Natasha was already walking towards the room when a quiet, pained noise caught her attention, her finger ready on the trigger as she rounded the corner, pausing at the sight before her.

Your ominous figure stood facing an empty room, hands twitching by your side, unaware of the spy near you, or the Captain who rounded the corner on the other side of the hallway, pausing when Natasha signalled for him to do so.

"Don't make me kill them," you almost whimper out, lost in a spiral of memories, your mind replaying the broken memory. "They're just children."

"I won't repeat it again Soldat," his voice low and commanding at your ear, malice lacing his next words, "Don't leave the room until every single one of them is dead."

Steve raises his shield ready to throw at your words, confusion written across his and the redhead's face.

I told you. We're a monster.

Snapping at the voice inside your head, your fist collides with the wall, trying to express your anger, confusion and hurt, when the sound of metal gliding through the air reaches your ear, body turning to the side, hand catching the vibranium disk.

Steve's face pales a little at how unaffected you were by his throw, most people being knocked back a little, his expression swiftly switching to shock when it's thrown back forcefully at him. He has to take a couple steps back when he catches it to stay balanced, your body making it's way over to him, eyes slowly becoming lifeless as you flicker between having and losing control.

He uses his shield to protect him when your fist collides with the metal, a loud noise reverberating around the room, a gunshot being added to the mix when a bullet slices through your leg, jaw clenching at the pain. You grit your teeth, swinging your other arm to hit the side of the blonde man, a groan escaping him at your strength while he goes to parry your other punch, you injured leg swiping at his knee, knocking him back to the ground.

While the man climbs to his feet, a pair of thighs wrap around your head, trying to force your body to the ground, unable to beat your strength. Wrapping your arms around the back of her body, her elbow being brought down on whatever part of you she could reach, you push her body into the nearest wall, her back painfully banging against it.

The sound of boots approaching quickly causes you to pull away from the wall, slamming the body down against the floor, a small cry escaping her before you lower your body, merely evading the punch from the man and tackling his body to the ground, shield clattering next to him.

Your legs straddle his stomach, grip tight to prevent his movements while your hands goes to his throat, merciless with your grip as his face starts to turn red. Your thumbs dig in harshly against his airways, his hands prying at your own, fingers digging in painfully with the amount of strength he was using making your grip falter, hands reaching to the red and blue metal disk.

Fear glosses over in his eyes as you raise the shield into the air, attempting to bring it down on his throat when his hands clutch at the bottom of it, desperately trying to stop you. Your eyes are dark, no ounce of humanity left in them as you press down harder, the edge of the shield pressing lightly against his throat as he fights for his life,

To catch him off guard, you lift the shield, his fingers slipping off it and enabling you to abruptly bring it back down.

His hands only just block his neck in time, a muffle groan leaving you at the pain radiating throughout your body, electricity coursing through your body from the small device attached onto your neck. The device causes a sense of Deja vu to flicker across your mind, ignoring it as you stagger to your feet, turning to the redhead who raises her gun at you.

Blood oozes out of your leg from where she last shot you, Steve regaining his breath as he slowly pushes his body off the ground, your gaze locked on the woman in front of you, familiarity causing your head to tilt while you stare at her, waiting for her next move.

You can see her hesitation, her finger hovering over the trigger as the barrel is aimed at your face. You take a step forward, daring her to take the shot when she swiftly lowers it, another bullet lodging itself into your body, pain radiating from your side.

You fall to your knees at the pain, her gaze flickering to the man behind you, his hands grabbing the shield once again. You close your eyes, focusing on the sound of his movements to imagine his stance, visualising his body behind you and waiting for the gap to present itself. When he goes to swing the metal at you, you press your hand down into the ground, using it to spring your body off the concrete as you spin around, kicking your leg out to strike into his side.

A loud snap can be heard as the force of your kick splinters his ribs, his body falling to the concrete while he takes in sharp breaths, anguish evident on his face as he holds his side.

You're certain that if he was human the impact would have killed him, instead it merely immobilises him, your attention returning the woman you think you know.

When she keeps her gaze on you, the firearm still aimed at you, you can feel annoyance and anger enter your mind as she hovers her finger over the trigger, not wanting any more bullets to be lodged inside you. Your fingers deftly wrap around the handle of the blade in your pocket, swiftly pulling it and spinning it between your fingers as you wait for her to make the first move.

Confusion sneaks onto your face when she merely smirks at you, her gaze flickering behind you for a brief second. Without even thinking, you turn and launch the knife at the other figure, the metal blade being encased in red tendrils of magic before it clatters to the ground, the brunette's eyes glowing red.

There's a glint of recognition in her eyes when she sees you, her magic abruptly travelling towards you and wrapping around you, the tendrils seeping into the side of your head and into your mind.

You're powerless against her magic, an animalistic noise being torn out of you as more gruesome flashbacks swarm your mind, hands desperately clutching at your head to make it stop.

Natasha watches with a pained look, your cries of anguish stirring something inside her while Wanda lets out a small cry at the things she was seeing in your mind.

You fall to your knees roughly, fingers digging into the side of your head as you try to make it stop, you need to make it stop.

Ending the pain for the both of you, Wanda navigates her way through your fractured mind and eventually manages to get your body to fall unconscious, your body limp of the ground as the witch wipes the tears off of her cheeks, staring at the redhead opposite her who has curiosity written across her face.

"I don't know how long I can hold her," she says to the assassin, her magic still flowing around your head as she tries to keep you still.

"Can you hold her until we get back to the tower?" Natasha asks, making her way over to Steve who is still in agony on the ground. She slowly helps him to his feet, careful not to hurt him anymore while turning her gaze back to the witch.

"I think so," she says a little nervously, focusing on her magic.

"Good, let's get her on the jet, Fury's going to want to know what's happened." Everyone agrees with Natasha's plan, the magic encasing your entire body as you're lifted into the air, the redhead aiding the injured super soldier towards the jet.

What could possibly go wrong?

[tiddygame]

Ghoap god type AU.

Soap is the long forgotten god of death.

Ghost is his first follower in a very long time.

part 1 /// part 2 /// part 3 /// part 4 /// part 5 /// part 6 /// part 7

————

At first, Soap had been seen as kind and benevolent. The one to end someone’s suffering and help them along to the afterlife. However, as more wars began to break out, his perception changed into that of a bloodthirsty warmonger. The type that you sacrifice the blood of innocents to for luck in your upcoming battles.

Soap had simply ignored the brutish offerings. But then they spread. Like a plague, soon everyone was murdering their chosen victims in his temples in the hopes that it would bring them even more fortune.

Realizing that his presence was just causing more and more to die, he let himself fade away. He was reduced to nothing more than a comforting feeling people felt before they died. Over time, the so-called offerings stopped. Scared of what would happen should he return, he continued to fade.

A god is only as strong as their followers believe them to be. With no followers, no offerings, they are nothing. While mortal weaponry may hurt a god, may even get them to bleed, it cannot kill them. A god can only truly die when they are no longer remembered.

Soap is waiting for the day that he is truly forgotten and can pass on when he gets a feeling. One he has not had in an age. Though his worshippers have abandoned him, his temples and statues remained, though now significantly worse for wear. And someone just provided an offering of a single slice of bread on one of his statues.

A meager offering, sure, but it’s enough to get his attention. He has almost no power nor any energy left, but he sees a soldier sitting next to the statue as he ate his meal.

Meanwhile, Ghost hadn’t the faintest clue what god he just gave an offering to, but he felt a little better afterwards and so just hoped they weren’t evil. He took note of the statue’s appearance and when his troop was encamped near a town, he snuck away to a local library to see if there were any books he could find about it.

He was not apart of the army willingly, but he owed them a life debt and they had decided that it would only be repaid upon his death. Just a glorified prisoner, he was kept at the general’s side as his favorite weapon. Sneaking away was difficult, but definitely doable. The few times he was caught, he made enough of a disturbance that it was easier for everyone involved to let him do his thing.

They did not need to worry about him running away. If he was able, he’d have run the second he was given the chance. However, he was stuck. As long as he owed a debt, he could not leave.

The statue, at the very least, gave him something to do.

He was intrigued. He did not recognize the features at all, and his research confirmed that it was not a well known deity. It takes a long time of asking the right people and finding the right books to uncover the story of the forgotten god.

Having read everything — from loving poems about the being helping sickly children find comfort in their last moments to angry anecdotes about desperate townspeople sacrificing themselves in the hope that the god would show them mercy — he decides to give the god the benefit of the doubt.

He figures the world is shitty enough, why not find some good that had been tucked away? Ghost himself was seen more as a weapon than a person and couldn’t help but sympathize. He was never one for gods or worship, more likely to curse the heavens than ever sacrifice something of his, but he almost felt bad for the being. So, the next day, from one bloodthirsty monster to another, he gives the forgotten god more offerings.

It’s still not much, just an apple and a ring the general wouldn’t notice missing, but he sets them there anyways. He damn near jumps out of his fucking skin when the feeling of an accepted offering floods through him. He stares at what would have originally been the face of the statue, but nothing happens. The trees behind him continue to sing their song in the faint breeze, with the sounds of a lively woods never fading.

There is no outside sound, no out of place movement, no indication that he hadn’t just imagined the feeling. A leaf falling from one of the branches and landing on the pedestal, where the offerings were now gone, snapped him out of his staring contest. He muttered out a gruff thanks and sat down to eat, ignoring the feeling of being watched.

[hellsitedotcom]

### Genshin Men & How They Kiss ###

Featuring Dainsleif, Il Dottore, Il Capitano, Neuvillette, Wriothesley, Al-Haitham.

warnings: shouldn't be anything too spicy/nsfw. Dottore bites people, do with that what you want.

english isn't my native language! this is going to flop so bad, but I'm bored; bone app the teeth.

DAINSLEIF

He is someone who - in my humble opinion - kisses you with such...devotion, such unwavering and suffocating devotion that it leaves you breathless and stunned even after the 100th kiss.

Dain has his way with words, we all know that, and as mesmerizing as his compliments and confessions can be, so are his kisses; they are like a beautiful, life-changing poem that leaves you aching for more.

He's not too frequent of a kisser, though - I want to think he's somewhat dramatic with his timing for kisses; before depatures, big battles, when you're apart from each other for longer times & greater distances.

Definitely one for goodnight kisses; he's such a gentle lover, I'd say. There's just something about him that makes it hard for me to see him as an aggressive, obsessive, or extremely passionate/intense lover (I hope you know what I mean).

You know those Princess x Knight stories? Where they finally have that first kiss, and it's described like something straight out of a fairytale? That's Dainsleif, basically. Also, definitely someone who kisses your hand/palm.

IL DOTTORE

Oh, he's a freak, alright. My ''aroace Dottore'' headcanons aside, he's...not your ''typical'' guy, I'd say. Well, he's not a romantic, I think we can all agree on that.

Dottore's kisses are most definitely possessive - they aren't there to show love or anything, but to claim - to ''mark his territory'', sorta.

I think he'd see ''kissing'' as an outlet of sorts; I don't necessarily see the ''real'' Dottore as someone who gets frustrated and lets it out on his lover, nor would he be someone to kiss his lover unprovoked, I think. He doesn't necessarily need it.

If we were to talk about a not-so-sociopathic Dottore (alias, a normal human), he wouldn't necessarily strike me as someone who thinks about kissing you much either. He gives me a rather uninterested vibe in that regard; he probably shows his love/devotion in different ways.

Maybe I'm just really biased because of my other headcanon; he just doesn't care about kisses in a romantic sense, that's it. He'll bite you, he'll devour you, but there's nothing more behind it but exerting power...or maybe he just wants to silence you, because your provocations/teasing is getting on his last nerve.

His kisses (I honestly just see him as a biter) are bruising, and the way he holds onto you during that time leaves bruises, too. And, again, not many of these actions stem from love, but possessiveness or to ''make a statement''.

IL CAPITANO

Initially thought was ''Does he even know what a kiss is'', but let's brush past that...anyway, why can I see him somewhere inbetween the likes of Dain & Dottore? lol

He's not much of a kisser, either. Which, uh, soldier and all, I'd say, but then, he is still capable of care and devotion in a way that others never could.

He's devoted in his kisses, and there's a pledge of loyalty behind each kiss, only solidified by their rarity. He swears fealty to you in that way - a firm, classy kiss on the lips; kissing the back of your hand while kneeling in front of you; a lasting kiss on your forehead before he departs.

Again, those kisses are rare and kept secret from the outside, but they exist and they hold such an incredible weight to themselves; they are his greatest show of vulnerability and weakness. Though, he does not view having a lover as a weakness.

As mentioned further above: His kisses are firm, they are lasting. He doesn't just give you quick pecks in passing, no. Each kiss takes its time, and each kiss is there to repeat the message the first one gave ''I swear fealty to you''. They aren't overly passionate, messy, or anything like that.

Definitely not one for many words, and their all pretty cordial and like some devoted rule-abiding knight would talk, lol. Quality Time and Acts of Service are more of his strongsuit.

NEUVILLETTE

I'm a bit torn here, though he certainly is a gentle kisser. On one hand, I want to say it is a ''lack of experience'' in that prospect, that could make him more hesitant and careful. On the other hand, I just feel like regardless of his experience level, he'd be a gentle lover.

He's more frequent in his kisses - he does not mind showing you love, regardless of where you are, though during important meetings (or trials) you'll never find him kissing you; only afterwards, when you've returned to the privacy of his office, he'll drop that mask again.

He'll pour all his emotions into his kisses - including those tragic, painful emotions after certain trials. Yet, his kisses are never hungry or aggressive. They'll still always keep their lightness.

Most of the time, you'll find him kissing your lips or your cheeks. In your sleep, he'll press a kiss to your forehead, and in public he'll often press a kiss to the palm of your hand.

His kisses are the kind to make you giggle, or smile all giddy. They are exciting, in a way. Though rather light and ''brief'', they leave you at a loss every time; like a beautiful dream. Paired with that soft smile of his? They'll have you melting right then and there.

WRIOTHESLEY

I just let out the most concerning ''hehehehe''; anyway, oh boy, I wanna be indulgent here, but I'll try to be as ''realistic'' as possible.

He's...a wildcard, of sorts. Wriothesley can be extremely passionate & hungry when it comes to his lover, but he can also be more classy & gentle about it, depending on different factors.

Now, focus on the more intense parts of Wriothesley. For anyone needing a visual/example; I'm sure there's fics out there where the reader is sparring with Wriothesley. And that's where I get the more intense version of him from.

He's the kind to pin you against a wall and devour your lips, tongue eventually down your throat as he got you at his mercy. He's not holding back with those kisses - he's hungry; hungry for all of you. His kisses aren't necessarily bruising, but they are suffocating; you'll be struggling for air when he is like this.

You'll find him his filled with desire only in private - and often enough there's something needed to trigger this...almost primal?...version of him; yes, this means he'll leave marks, but he'd never intentionally hurt you to get off.

On other occasions, he's more gentle, though that gentleness can sometimes stem from an absence of mind, too. Fleeting kisses on the cheek, barely sparing you a glance as he's too busy with work. His ''apology'' kisses are also the gentle, yet firmer kind. And you'll get them quite frequently, given...everything.

In conclusion, he's definitely capable of being both extremely hungry/intense and being gentle; it really depends on preference, I suppose, but I can absolutely see him being a perfect balance.

AL-HAITHAM

Definitely more on the calmer side; not necessarily ''gentle'' in the way I have described before, but he's not an aggressive/hungry kisser, unless for certain occasions, maybe.

He's so introverted in his voicelines, he's probably the same with a lover; barely any PDA in public, just because he's not a fan of it (you'll maybe get a peck on the cheek or a kiss on the forehead, but just fleeting).

His kisses are...somewhat distant, quite often. He'll kiss you on the lips, but you'll feel like he's not really present while kissing you. He'll also take your hand and kiss it absently whenever you sit beside him while he's studying.

Other times, he's nearly obsessed with kissing you; he'll be kissing you firmly, one kiss lasting minutes before being interrupted by shorter and lighter kisses, and then he'll go back to a firm, passionate kiss. He'll often have you on his lap during those.

Slow, sensual make out sessions. That's what I was looking for, I think. Lots of cuddling, holding you close, tracing his lips over your skin. That's how I see him sometimes.

Can I actually see him be more intense in his kisses? Maybe, but it takes a lot. A lot of pent up frustration, Kaveh getting on his last nerve, some issues with the Akademiya, etc.; and perhaps, if you provoke him on that day, you'll see a more hungry side...Or maybe he just did it to satisfy you for a while, who knows?

Makes me believe that Al-Haitham does not mind being more dominant, more intense, more hungry during make out sessions - he can if it means you'll be happy about it, but he doesn't prefer it, tbh.

[taecherries]

the princess bride | jungkook ( 1 )

synopsis. soon to be betrothed to a neighbourhood kingdom, you escape into the woods toward your freedom. there you find your calling in the hold of a dark and troublesome stranger instead.

pairing. jungkook | you + yoongi | you

genre. royal au, angst, smut, fluff

word count. 1.2k

rating. M

warnings. ❗️so far yn is only angsty about changing her fate❗️

a/n. chapters will be coming out whenever I'm able to post and they may vary in word count greatly ♡

chapters. 1 × 2 × 3

You had been waiting for this little escapade since you’d heard your father announce your marriage to the King of Ilya earlier that day.

The world came tumbling beneath your feet as soon as you heard it. No matter how much you protested your father, the King, was irresolvable. You were not shielded behind your title like your brothers… Unlike the youngest heir of Keirn who wanted nothing to do with the crown besides partying and living it up to his rake title, you would give a finger to rise to the throne. And yet, the oldest of you, your brother Seokjin, who would eventually sit atop of it wanted nothing to do with it as well.

You did not doubt that if you had been announced as a boy as soon as you’d been born your father would have done whatever it took to put you on the throne. He had always favored you. And not because you were a girl, but because Seokjin did not possess the natural leadership you demanded whenever you entered a room, and because Taehyung did not possess the cold heart needed to rule a kingdom.

And yet your father did not think twice before offering you as a form of alliance with the powerful kingdom of Ilya.

He did not think of his daughter but of the kingdom. He put the nation of Keirn first, as you still wage a war with Arden’s great warriors and struggle to advance on territory.

The worst part is as a born ruler you can understand why he made the trade. With Ilya’s help, the unfortunate middle position on the map of your kingdom becomes nothing but a past worry. The soldiers can concentrate on upholding only one side of the borders.

But as a daughter, as a woman of your own, you can’t fathom why your once-loving father would deny you the only thing you ever dreamed of having—your freedom.

The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows across the stone walls of the tiny cottage belonging to your secret lover. You met him years before this, thanks to his father’s high-rank position in your dad’s order.

Like his deceased father, Yoongi is also a commander; a general. His scars tell tales of many battles, yet his eyes, the soft ones he has only for you, tell you of everything he wishes your lives could be instead of this. That’s why in your rampant need to escape your newfound obligations, you found yourself atop your trusted horse, riding toward this. Toward him.

The air inside is thick with the sweet scent of pine and the lingering warmth of the fire. Your breath comes in soft, heated gasps as you press yourself against Yoongi. Your fingers tangling in the dark hair you worship, his hands roaming your back, pulling you closer, as your lips meet in a fervent unyielding kiss.

Breaking the kiss you rest your forehead against his, your eyes brimming with determination. “We could leave tonight,” you whisper, filled with hope, much different from the condition you arrived at the cottage. You had been a storm of betrayal and raging tears before Yoongi dwindled everything with his caress and soft-spoken words. “We could escape the castle, make a life for us in the woods… Just the two of us. No one would find us past the clearing.”

Yoongi’s eyes search for yours, his expression a mix you know of too well. Longing and apprehension. You could bet your own eyes were telling the same secrets. “Y/n, your father would never stop looking for you.” His knuckles caress gently your cheeks. “He would send all of the fleet to every damn corner of the kingdom, you know that.”

“They wouldn’t find us. You’re the best at what you do and I—”

“My love,” he pins you down with his eyes. There’s nothing but sadness in them. “You’re now to be-” He stiffens, if only ever slightly. “You’re to be Ilya’s queen. They won’t ever let you go.”

He won’t fight for this, for you. Why won’t he fight for you?

“But we’d be free,” you insist, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “Free to be together, to do whatever we want of our lives.”

Yoongi’s eyes close in a thoughtful wish. Maybe his resolve could wave after all. He pulls you into another kiss, deeper this time as if trying to pour all of his emotions into this very moment. “I want that more than anything,” he murmurs against your lips. He sighs and eyes you closely before adding, “We’ll have to be smart about it if we’re even to attempt it.”

You smile against his lips.

You didn’t think your heart could possibly be more his, and yet…

A sudden noise from outside breaks your wishful dreams. Your intimate bubble bursts as the unmistakable sound of boots crunching on gravel reaches your ears, followed by the clang of armor.

Yoongi is up in a second, his grip on you tightening as he steps to shield you even if the enemy is still outside the cottage.

“No,” you whisper, your voice trembling. The only person to have ever known about you and your knight in shining armor was Taehyung. If your father’s soldiers were here… “They- They found us.”

Your spirit is crushed.

Not letting you dwell on what could have happened, Yoongi turns to face you, his expression hardened. This wasn’t your Yoongi, this was the general demanding your attention. “You have to go,” he says urgently, his eyes locking into yours with fierce intensity. “I’ll find you. I promise I’ll find you no matter what, but you have to escape. Now, Y/n.”

Tears well up in your eyes. You can’t leave him, you don’t want to. But you learned the same techniques as Yoongi did when little. You know that if you don’t split now they will catch you both. And you also know that it’s your freedom put in jeopardy, not his.

There’s no time to argue.

Yet you do.

“I can’t leave without you-”

His large hands are cupping your cheeks in a second. All of the resolve in the world swirling in his cat-like eyes. “No one will ever set us apart, My love. You’re blood of my blood,”

You are caught by surprise as he chants the words. But there’s no time to spare, and so you finish reciting the vows you know by heart. “…And bone of my bone.” You answer him gently. “I’ll give you my body, that we two might be one.”

“I give you my spirit until our life shall be done.” He finishes with a bittersweet smile.

As you rest your forehead on his cheek, inhaling for one last time everything that he is, he places a cold piece on your palm and a kiss on your temple.

“Please be safe,” you whisper close to his lips, your voice breaking.

Yoongi gives you one last, searing kiss before pushing you towards the back door. “I’ll find you,” he repeats reassuringly.

You can still taste him on your lips as you slip out of the cottage, your heart pounding in your ears as you sprint into the dense forest. Behind you, the sound of soldiers crashing through the door and Yoongi’s defiant shouts fill the air.

You don’t dare look back, trusting in his promise as you disappear into the darkness, praying that once the sun rises yet again, you will be not only reunited but in charge of your fates.

In your palm rests the reassurance.

A silver dagger in the form of a wedding ring.

taglist. comment down bellow if you want to be part of it ♡

< next chapter >

[theangrycomet-art]

TFA: Ariel/Elita 1's Squadron, Team Orthia

I fell down the wiki rabbit hole last night and now I have these.

Everyone's heights are off/going to change in the future because I wasn't sure on everyone's alts when I was first drawing out the line up.

I mostly just wanted to get ideas down on paper.

COMMISSIONS OPEN

Transcript of my Handwriting Plus Other Lore:

Nothing here’s set in stone I just wrote down ideas/compiled thoughts as they came to me.

edit: Changed Lancer’s Profile Info to match new ideas I have

TFA: Sheild of Solus

Operation: Failsafe

Purpose: To sabotage any and all Decipticon efforts of gaining any headway in this war. First, start off with the infiltrators, next, hit them where it hurts.

After discovering a spy had infiltrated their ranks, Alpha Trion took it upon himself to assemble a team to sabotage any Decipticon efforts to gain a foothold on Cybertron, hoping that they would be able to counter any threats on Cybertron.

Ariel/Elita-1

Commander and the Leader

High-ranking member of the Elite Guard

Alpha Trion’s inside eyes

Alt Mode: Cybertronian Heavy Duty Truck -> Monster Truck

Special Upgrade: Classified

Good-Morningstar Mace: Morning star with detachable head

Laser Kusarigama: This weighted chain serves Elita well when she needs to tie up the enemy (or retrieve your teammate as her gravity fluctuates again)

Tidbit: One of the few of the Elite Guard to not have gone to the Academy, Elita rose through the ranks through her skill and ingenuity, despite other’s misgivings. A bit rough around the edges, she is always there for her fellow bots. When her former mentor requested her aid in his mission, she had no hesitation joining. (It helped that it got her away from her more tiresome coworkers)  

Chromia

Second in Command

Recon Specialist, Infiltrator

Former Intelligence Officer; she retired when she was not allowed to investigate Highbrows abrupt disappearance and opened a private investigator business.

Alt Mode: Cybertronian Trike -> Trike (like Harley-Davidson Tri Glide Ultra)

Special Upgrade: Lockpick: with enough time she can pick any lock and hack into any systems with the extensions in her servos. However, this can takes a lot of her processing power and leaves her vulnerable.

Laser Sabre: Good for clashing blades and slipping between the seams of an enemy’s armor

Tidbit: Despite her worrying over her teammates, Chromia has a habit of diving helm first into her work with little disregard for herself, whether that be forgetting to refuel and recharge or tempting fate with more self-sacrificial tendencies. She’s been working on it, but bad habits die hard…

Novastar

Search and Rescue, Transportation and Retrieval

Served in the tail-end of the Great War

Worked previously in Search and Rescue with her partners Inferno and Red Alert

Through this line of work, she developed extensive connections.

AltMode: Cybertronian Truck -> Narrowbed Truck

Special Upgrade: Furnace: Nova is able to generate massive bursts of flame, and she has refined the practice into an art. The flames on her head are no only an aesthetic choice, but an outlet for the excess heat she generates. These are easily extinguished; a fact Inferno took great joy in abusing the damn firetruck bot.

Blowtorch: During her time in field during the Great War, Nova lost her left servo to a Decpticon when retrieving soldiers from behind enemy lines. She had it replaced with a blowtorch prothesis that allows her to pinpoint flames to temperatures that can cut through even the toughest of materials- temperatures that otherwise would melt her frames

Tidbit: Novastar has been trying to locate Inferno, who has recently gone MIA after responding to an off-planet distress beacon with a new recruit with little to no luck. She is hoping the new job title will grant her greater resources to expand her search.

Greenlight

Engineer

“The Miracle Worker”

A student of WheelJack’s

Greenlight’s inventions can be brilliantly or devastating (or if she’s lucky) both. She tends to get attached to her devices, however, and gets rather despondent when they are broken or do not work as intended.

Aloof, she doesn’t see the need to waste much time with small talk. It requires a bot with a lot of patience (and ability to pester) to get her to come out of her shell

Alt Mode: Cybertronian Offroader

Special Upgrade: Tasers: Though not a combat bot, Greenlight saw fit to mod herself out with some decent defense. The tasers stored in her arms can generate enough volts of electricity that can through bots thrice her size flat on their backs.

Boom Cannon: A weapon still in its testing phases, she has been building it up from stolen Decepticon specs in her free time.

Tidbit: If asked, Greenlight will say that she agreed to sign up to get out of community service for accidentally demoing a perfectly good lab with one of her inventions. While partly true, a larger part of why she joined was because she didn’t want Lancer doing this alone.

Lancer [Edited]

Researcher

Unofficial Medic

Student of Perceptor

Alt Mode: n/a, missing T-Cog

Special Upgrade: FlipScreen: her “skirt” doubles as computers, monitor and keyboard included. This grants her access to ALL of her files and more importantly allows her to run any necessary scans, analysis, or algorithms she needs when or wherever she needs. It is also a bold fashion statement

BackPack Variety Hour: She has a variety of “backpacks” each serving different purposes, though if you ask anyone but Lancer they all look identical. Despite their incredible weight, she carries them with ease.

Backup Generator: Via the generator on her back, she could keep a city fully powered without straining her spark. Most of this energy goes into the powering the extra processors she has stored in her “skirt”

Star Splitter: a powerful laser spear, though she more often then not uses it for pole vaulting than actual combat

Tidbit: Lancer has been a researcher for the Autobots for longer than many bots have been alive, mostly regarding projects Ultra Magnus would rather not go public. Despite the JetTwins being by far the most successful of these endeavors, Lancer quit shortly after. When Alpha Trion offered her a more savory research position with Twam Orthia she was quick to accept and get out from Ultra Magnus’ thumb.

Moonracer

Sharpshooter/Sniper

“Best in the Whole Galaxy!”

Graduated top of her classes at the Autobot Academy but has struggled to keep a longterm position due to her impulsive behavior, with her last job being messenger-bot for Security.

Alt Mode: Cybertron Compact Car -> Vector W8

Special Upgrade: Internal Gravity Manipulator: As labelled on the tin, she has the ability to shift her gravity, decreasing AND increasing. Typically, she uses this to “float” or “moon walk”. The change in gravity can be extended to objects she comes into direct contact, but maintaining it drains her very quickly.

Velicotron Build: Speedster Though not as fast as the infamous Blurr, Moonracer is incredibly quick both as a bot and her alt form. Combine this with her gravity-defying abilities leads to some devastating results.

Custom Ion Pistols: Dual pistols that can combine into her sniper rifle.

Tidbit: Moonracer is a good bot with a good head on her shoulders. She will always do what she thinks is right- but she tends to jump the gun on things which gets her into trouble. With inexperience comes naivety, but how is she supposed to learn anything if nobody gives her a chance to do anything?  

Individual Shots

[thesilmarillionblog]

IN BAD DREAMS

Summary: After having a bad dream, Soldier Boy finds peace in your arms.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: fluff, comfort, soft Soldier Boy, established relationship, sweetness

Word Count: 1260

A/N: English is not my first language.

This one-shot story is inspired by the song 'In Bad Dreams' by Crippled Black Phoenix

⪩ Thank you for 300 followers! This one is for you. I hope you like it. 𓆩♡𓆪

Lost in thought, you sipped the water from your glass, got up from the chair, and headed to Ben's room. Everyone had gone to sleep by midnight, with the exception of you.

Ben and you had not spoken much since this morning, after he found out he had a son who was Homelander. Ben warned you about it and didn't want to discuss it with the rest of the crew. He had been acting more aggressively than usual, so you didn't want to press him to speak. You also didn't want to do anything that might damage your recently formed friendship because you were aware of how fragile his trust issues were.

Cautiously, you sneaked into his room, trying not to make any sort of noise. Although he was sleeping noisily, he didn't appear peaceful at all; instead, he appeared uneasy, as if he were having a nightmare. 

You just mumbled, “Ben?” because he had told you not to touch him while he was sleeping so that he wouldn't grab your arm violently and accidentally hurt you. 

He opened his eyes instantly and looked around, confused. Then your eyes met his emerald ones. He breathed deeply, as though he were relieved, and then extended his wide arms and rubbed his face. 

“What time is it?” he said in a hoarse voice, trying to figure out if it was morning or evening by peering out the window. 

“It's almost morning,” you remarked as you sat on the bed and ran your fingertips over his rough hands. 

His eyebrows furrowed as he inquired, “Why aren't you asleep yet?” 

You held his hand firmly and muttered, “I don't know; I just couldn't sleep. You looked quite uneasy when you were asleep. I’m worried about you, Ben.”

At least try to get him to talk about his dreams because you didn't bring up the Homelander issue and get him to push you away. It was incredibly difficult for him to open up to you. Being a man with PTSD, you knew you had to be patient with him, but you also wanted him to trust you as much as you trusted him. 

He hesitated and said, “Yeah,” as if speaking was difficult. “Just a bad dream.”

With a sympathetic tone, you said, “Again?” and cautiously settled upon the bed. He swiftly proceeded to around you with his powerful arms and planted

solid kiss on your lips before kissing you firmly on your forehead. “What was it about?”

“You.”

“Why do you always see me in bad dreams?” You whispered to him, running your hand over his full beard, and leaned in to feel the warmth of his chest.

With a smile, he said, “I'm not sure. It has become somewhat of a habit these days.”

Assuming he would talk about it this time, you inquired, “What are they about, though?”

His hands came down to rest on your stomach, and his fingers lightly caressed your skin. You also felt he wouldn't want to talk about it, so you kept silent as you measured his expression.

Finally, he stated, “I would never let anything happen to you,” as though he didn't know how to fully open up to you and you understood.

You told him, “I know you won't,” hoping he would realize how much you trusted him and that you also wanted him to have faith in you. “No matter what, nothing that happens will ever be your fault, and I will never hold you responsible for anything. Ben, I need you to fully understand this.”

“Nothing will happen,” Ben said with a rough voice, ignoring what you've just

You nodded to him and sighed. Not sure how to start the conversation, you asked him politely, “How are you feeling about today? About him?” 

You weren't sure if Ben's emotions or ideas about Homelander had changed in light of today's news, even if he was a horrible person—the worst person alive; in fact, he was still Ben's son. In the end, Homelander turned out to be Ben's son. There was no need to be in denial. 

He cut it short, obviously not interested in talking. “I don't know,” he said. “But that changes nothing. That's just not how I pictured myself several decades ago. There were a ton of various possibilities.”

With a heavy heart, you asked, “With Countess?” Even though he killed her, you knew he loved her. Back then, he must have envisioned a life with her and a family. You hated her since she was the cause of his current trust issues.

“You know I don't like talking about such stuff, especially her, right?” He was dissatisfied with your question. Even though he didn't mean to, it still made you upset. 

You said, “Fine,” losing interest and wanting to stop asking questions. 

You made an attempt to break free and gain some distance, but he simply stopped you with an irritated sigh, trapping your body between his strong arms. "Stop moving," he said playfully. “Why did you get sensitive now?” he inquired. 

“I didn't.”

“You sure didn't,” he said, teasing you more and making you laugh with quick tickles to the stomach.

Upon witnessing your afterwards silence, he took a deep breath, uncertain about where to begin. He never felt completely at ease opening up to you, even though you were the easiest person with whom to have a real, sincere talk.

“It's true that decades ago, I had dreams of starting a family with her, but as you have seen, I ended up killing her because she was a cunning, dishonest bitch. I'm not even sure if I really liked her.” At last, he said, “Maybe I just wanted to do what was required of me. Now that it's all over, you can stop feeling jealous.” 

With a clearly deceptive smile, you said, “I'm not jealous.” Your pulse was racing, so you knew he could understand. But his words brought you relief. That was the first time he had told you honestly about how he felt about her. 

You wanted him to want for the same visions with you and to trust you with his life because you knew you would never betray him, but you were unsure of how to show him how much you loved him. If you told him, you were worried he would push you away. That's the reason you haven't brought up the Countess issue until now. It would be best if he just moved on from the past and forgot about it. Whatever had broken inside of him—Countess, his father, Vought, and Payback—you wanted to fix.

You proceeded to brush his bare chest with your hands, whispering, “I just need you to know you can trust me just like I trust you with my life. You are very dear to me. You also need to quit seeing me only in your bad dreams. I have no doubt that a mighty supe like you could even control his dreams.”

Although you are unable to express your affection for him, you can reassure him of your trustworthiness.

He nodded and gave you a small chuckle before playfully remarking, “You talk too much tonight, sweetheart,” without adding anything. “I’m sure that cute mouth of yours can do other things to that mighty supe.”

“Like what?” you said in amusement.

“Like kissing me.”

⋆⋅☆⋆☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋆☆⋅⋆

A/N: I hope you liked this one. You can check my MASTERLIST for more. ♡˚.

[auspicioustidings]

At Ease

Summary: Ghost trains you to take commands. Basically a big ole power play to get you into sub space without him needing to play with you to do it. Words: 1.2k CWs: smut (light I think)

“Corporal.”

“Lieutenant Riley, sir.”

“Drills at 1900.”

“Yes sir.”

Fuck, you hated drills.

—

“Fall in.”

You took a breath and sank into soldier mode. You could do this, you’d impress him this time. No mistakes. The bed was made with the same crisp grey sheets that yours was, but owing to his rank he had a double and no other people sharing with him. You hoped you’d have a room like this one day as you crawled up onto the bed, kneeling facing him and awaiting further orders.

“Present arms.”

You turned away from him, feeling unsettled when your eyes weren’t on his. That skull mask had scared you at the start, but now it was like a comfort blanket of sorts. You hated not being able to see if he had his attention on you or not as you sank onto your elbows, keeping your ass up towards him with your head resting on the mattress.

“Inspection arms.”

You let your knees spread further and tried to undo the button on your trousers as quickly as possible. Hesitation was weakness, hesitation would make him grunt in disappointment and bring an end to drills and you hated when that happened. You hated how you could never get to the end, hated that you’d never gotten praise because you’d never earned it.

His hands were quick and practiced in ripping the trousers down off of you, leaving you fully exposed to the cold air as he took his time folding them and putting them on the bedside table. You focused your breathing, trying not to move even as you felt a trickle of moisture escape your hole, the sensation of that liquid traveling slowly through your slit and towards your clit making your cunt clench.

“Attention.”

You rolled onto your back and planted your feet on the mattress, knees wide apart and hands by your side as you stared at the ceiling. It was torture, being at attention while he just stood and said nothing. The silence made your breathing so much more obvious and you fought to calm yourself.

He must be able to see the slow throbbing of your clit as your poor cunt got more and more needy. It has shocked you the first time that your body had such a visceral reaction to this, to him. But now you knew that it didn’t matter, you had to follow orders regardless of how you ached. You could do it this time, you could withstand the mounting desperation.

You vaguely felt your right leg tremble and fought to get it to still. His hand planted on your knee and the jolt of the contact went right through you. He had never touched you during this before.

“Stand fast.”

You gritted your teeth, trying to stay still even with the warmth of his hand feeling like it may as well be him sliding inside of you. God, you needed something inside of you. You needed to be touched. When the warmth left, your eyes tried to slide forward, to see him.

“Eyes forward!”

You stiffened and your eyes shot back to the ceiling, hands by your sides now white knuckled gripping at the sheets. You could do this. It must have been a half hour before he gave another order and your whole body was wound tight. You felt swollen, like a balloon that’s latex was stretched so thin it was ready to burst from the slightest change. Your clit throbbed in time to your heartbeat.

“At ease corporal.”

This was new, you had never gotten this far. You visualised the position in your head and felt tears fight to fall. You would need to clasp your hands behind your back and the movement was going to give friction you were terrified of.

“Not going to tell you again, at ease!” Ghost barked and it felt like praise, felt like he wanted you to succeed.

The shift was almost painful as you fought to get into position, to follow commands instead of curling up and shoving your hands between your legs to relieve the ache. Your heels lifted as your hands clasped behind your back and your back arched. The movement caused an absolute flood from your cunt, some dripping down onto the sheets and some following the contours of your body to pool at your tighter hole.

You don’t know how much time passed as you struggled against your own body. You were denying it and it screamed at you, every muscle tense as your blood rushed around your ears and slammed into your core, plumping up your clit with every beat of your heart. You were sure he must see how swollen it was, glistening still with the wetness that had swirled round it from when you had been presenting.

After a while it was like you were floating, your body so rigid and needy that your brain had to detach to avoid giving in. You would follow orders, you would do this.

—

Ghost smiled. Finally. You probably didn’t even realise you were sobbing now. Despite how much the intense arousal was starting to hurt you, you had found that place that let you stay still, let you think about nothing but following his orders. He looked at the mess between your legs, all swollen and wet and throbbing. He could do anything to you right now, take whatever he wanted, and you would stay right where he had ordered you to. He knew he had been right about you when he had put your record on Price’s desk as a person of interest, you just needed some training.

“Ok corporal, relax” he said as he bent over and blew a puff of air on your clit.

You fell apart beautifully, the permission meaning that even the stimulation of that puff of air sent an orgasm crashing through you. Your muscles spasmed as your back bowed, mouth twisted in a silent scream. Ah fuck it, good soliders deserved rewards no? Three of his thick, gloved fingers jammed into your greedy cunt and she accepted them eagerly, sucking on them as if trying to milk them as your bliss just kept going and going and your limbs thrashed.

By the time it was over your body was loose and useless, crumpled onto his bed in exhaustion. He grinned seeing that you sluggishly tried to rearrange yourself back into some form of parade rest. It didn’t say much for his own self-control that he quickly got his hard cock out and tugged himself off using your own arousal as lube. It didn’t take long for him to spill on your pussy.

“Fall out soldier” he cooed, brushing wet fingers across your cheek as you passed out now that you had permission.

He watched you for a while, just content to see the rising and falling of your chest. You had done so well for him. Price arrived at some point, pleased with his report at how the training was paying off. He hadn’t been entirely convinced when Ghost had first suggested you, but as the lieutenant fed his fingers to Gaz to suck the combination of you and Ghost off of them and Soap began gently cleaning you up and stripping you out of your top so he could dress you in clean pyjamas, he was thankful Ghost was a stubborn arse who insisting on training you anyway.

Once you were clean and settled they left the room to let Ghost shower and crawl into his bed next to you, maskless and content with his success, wrapping you up in his arms and enjoying a dreamless sleep.

[ewingstan]

I do wonder how much the perception of cape culture in the fandom would have changed if Wildbow hadn’t made the story so Brockton Bay centric.

The story of Worm (and Ward to an extent) has alluded to the fact that Brockton Bay is notably an exception when it comes to cape violence and brutality, with Taylor shocked that a Ward she met had 3 fights in 6 months. And how several Wards and Rime had no idea what she was talking about in regard to “counting coup”.

We see this with Victoria too, when she’s shocked about the Majors not seeing any action in 6 years and Tristan being overwhelmed with the amount of violence in the Fallen Raid despite being a hero for a few years himself. Foil also mentions how most of her career was really calm until March would occasionally poke her nose in things.

Mal posted some Ward updates! While I understand her pov, I do disagree with her:ilebow has also stressed, pre-Ward, that Brockton Bay was not indicative of the wider cape scene as a whole but rather a domino of things going wrong due to outside factors.

If Wildbow had extended interludes to show the dynamics of other, average, cape cities or had Taylor be in a city where things were so much calmer that she found it disturbing… well, it’s hard to say how things would change, but I think it would have made it far more clear that Taylor and Victoria’s life experience should not be applied across the board.

Or maybe nothing would have changed. Just spitballing an idea based on your let’s read so far.

Brockton Bay may be exceptional to an extent. But maybe just in the sense that it had so much happen to it before it was abandoned. Madison and Ellisburg only needed one bad day. Several countries in Worm were just straight-up destroyed.

The Bay may have been a notably large hub of nazi capes. But they were part of an internationally-connected network of capes with similar agendas. Hell, the Fallen mostly operated outside of Brockton Bay. Most of the exceptionally violent groups like the Fallen, the Slaughterhouse Nine, Heartbreaker, the Teeth, etc. were roaming problems. Yes, Brockton was unique in that it was hit by all of them, but the world was full of those types of groups. There were similar groups of enough importance on a world stage to get an invite to the cauldron meetings that we only get the barest details of.

But the most important thing is that the low-level fights Victoria's specifically nostalgic for was itself always worse than she's remembering. It wasn't a bunch of kooky characters clashing with straightmen heroes. It was a bunch of very desperate people trying to survive in a system that found them either expendable or better off dead. Even without all the specific things that hit Brockton Bay, Rachel probably would've ended up in the birdcage. Victoria would've kept relying on Amy to fix up the crooks she broke, assuming she never ended up accidentally killing someone. Both of them would continue living under the crushing responsibility and isolation that came with their cape personas. Vista would've ended up as maladjusted as a marketable celebrity child soldier would always end up being. People like Dinah and Lisa would keep being hunted for their skills by more powerful forces. The Taylors of the world would keep getting bullied, the Mr. Gladlys would keep looking away. The rot would be same.

[aysegust]

JUST A HEALER. - K.B

Pairings: (Kaz Brekker x Reader) A/N: Hey Everyone! I hope you all are fine and feel good. May goodness be with you… So this is a new fiction of mine. About Kaz Brekker… Well, I was so stressed about my studies so I wanted to write something to keep my mind occupied. English isn’t my native language, as reminding it again, I might have mistakes. If you saw it feel free to correct it with kindness of course! I hope you’ll like it. There will be a part two. Warnings: Kidnapping, Pekka Rollins, mention of Kirigan. It is mostly based on the first season of the series but I changed things. Word Count: 1.997

You can read the last part here: More Than A Healer. - K.B

A soldier, a healer.

That was all you were to him. A soldier, a healer. Well, the story of you and his crossed in a different path. You escaped from the Little Palace and took a ticket from an unknown ship, with that you went overseas.

As the ship sailed to the shore of Ketterdam, the city where every young-blooded Ravkan wanted to see, you were finally there. Freshly dressed and eager to see a new world. Other than forced to work under king’s command. Well, the missing state you were in probably put a traitor stamp on your name but you didn’t care.

Your parents died, because of Ravka. Because of their policies about taking Grisha’s away from their parents. Your parents die because they never wanted you to be taken from them. They died, because you were a Grisha… You blamed yourself for it from such a long time. But in reality, the blame wasn’t on you, it was on them.

A week passed since you were in Ketterdam, hiding your powers and blending into public. Well, it was safe to say that you were expecting difficulties. You had nothing so it would obviously difficult.

However as the weeks passed, you were able to find a shelter to stay, foods to feed yourself and a job. Well, you were taking care of wounded people, they thought you were talented. Not a Grisha. They thought this woman, you, are just talented and hardworking about what you do. But inside of every touch of yours, you were slowly recovering them faster.

Of course, you bandaged them, cut them, stitch them, clean their wounds but without the people of Ketterdam’s knowledge, as every slight touch of your fingers did the magic.

However, as you were so good at what you do, people talked. Pekka Rollins, offered you a job which you declined smoothly a time. He was pissed but you told him you work openly. But you treated his wounds so that’s why you were still alive.

Even Pekka Rollins didn’t realize you were a Grisha but a certain man, who likes to stay in silence and sees everything in a different gaze, such as reading between the lines, he noticed it.

That night you were going to your home, you heard a sound. It terrified you, so you touched your gun. Then you understood the sound of the cane, was on purpose.

The alley was empty. It was just the two of you, you thought. “It is not a daily thing you see a Grisha in Barrel.” As hearing his words, you turned to him slowly.

“Who are you?” You said to him coldly. He looked at you ruthlessly. As you were looking at his eyes, it was harsh, you felt goosebumps. “The right question is… why a Grisha is doing in the Barrel, Miss L/N?”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “I don’t know who you are, but you surely are mad.” He smiled to that. But the smile didn’t match his eyes. “I wouldn’t say that.”

He stepped firmly into your way, you didn’t back away. You wouldn’t show any weakness to him. You were a soldier.

“There’s no need for fighting, I present you an offer.” You looked at him with curiosity after hearing his crooked voice. “I’m listening.” You said firmly.

“You can work for me, and I’ll keep your secret.” You looked at him bitterly. “I don’t work for anyone.” You looked at his eyes. “Believe me, Miss L/N, in the Barrel, a woman like you would be a great investment.” He stopped briefly. “I have been watching you, and it wasn’t hard for me to understand of your little powers.” He looked at you so smoothly.

“Bold of you to assume, that I’ll work under you.” You said it confidently. He looked at his gloves for a moment. “If they finds out you are a Grisha, you won’t last long.” You squinted your eyes. “Is that a threat?” You said.

“No, it is just a warning.” His glances wasn’t disturbing it was frightening. “I give you a day, you can find me in the Crow Club.” Then he disappeared into shadows without even waiting for you to say anything.

After that night, you thought many things. You didn’t know the man, so you pulled strings and searched his name. The Dirtyhands. Bastard of the Barrel. The owner of the Crow Club. Kaz Brekker.

Kaz Brekker.

The Dirtyhands.

He had people work under him. The Wraith, The Sharpshooter… The Dregs. The informations you learned about the infamous Kaz Brekker, led you to his Club.

As you stepped into the Club, it was lighting with warm but sharp colors. You heard every laughter on gambling tables. Some smiling like devilishly, some whine in losing.

You stepped surely to inside. As your gaze fell upon to the upstairs, your eyes met in a brief moment. From the moment you stepped inside to the Club, he knew you arrived.

He made a small gesture, the way his face turned slightly to side, it was a gesture for you to come closer.

You walked slowly into his way, as he lead you to his office. Your gaze wandered the room. The walls were covered in a thick layer, the furnitures are covered in black as the way he dressed. The room looked tidy but his desk was filled with full of papers which looked pure chaotic.

The light of the room was dim. It was weirdly calming but as his body turned to you, your gaze met his. He looked like a wall. No emotion, not even a slight expression.

As you looked at his face, two days ago, looking at him briefly on the streets was not enough for you to look deeply into his features.

Now that you see him, well, he looked beautiful. In a disturbing way, he was looking good. Except for the fact that, he knows your secret and he is threatening you. Also, adding the fact that he is the Dirtyhands. You heard rumors about him before.

“So, you heard about me.” As he broke the silence, you nodded. “The Dirtyhands.” You said with a straight impression. “I heard about you.”

He leaned back on the edge of the table. “Then you heard all the things they said about me.” He replied.

“Look, Mr. Brekker, I don’t work for people. I don’t want to make enemies.” He almost laughed at that. “No, Miss L/N, the clear thing you don’t understand is…” He paused briefly. “Eventually, when people find out who you are, you are not gonna survive a day in here.” He looked at you sharply. “I won’t expose you, but, imagine if Pekka Rollins finds out?”

As he said it, you turned your gaze into one of painting on the wall. “Okay..” It was reasonable. You turned your gaze back to his. “I’ll work for you but under one condition.” You said. “I want a good check.” He looked at you.

“Then we have an agreement.”

-

Yeah, after that day a year passed as you worked under the Dirtyhands. Well, he didn’t trust you a bit and you weren’t trusting him too but you just had to trust the promise he made.

You were clearly a good asset to him. You treated Inej and Jesper’s wounds. Other members of his crew too. Also you were a great soldier so when a mission arrives, after some time of him trusting you about coming to his thefts, you were quick, strong and loyal.

He even gave you a new identity. Helped you to have a new identity in Ketterdam. So, you wouldn’t suspected to be a Grisha, a Ravkan.

But Pekka Rollins wasn’t happy about the idea of you working under the Bastard of the Barrel, which caused you some headaches. However, Kaz was cautious about everything.

A soldier, a healer.

You were all that to him. Well, you got along with Inej and Jesper. They had unique characteristics. You could feel the joy around Jesper while feeling safe around Inej. She was quiet but she made you feel comfortable.

You can’t say much things about Kaz. He was complicated. Never trusting you much, always prepared for everything and too cautious, too careful. As you observed him through the months, you saw how he deprived himself from touching. You saw the sour face of his after someone in the crowd bumped him with no intention. They thought it was just Kaz hated people. But to you, the way he looked with every little touch the furrowing brows of his tells a different tale.

Which you were curious about it. However, you never had the intentions of learning it. So you slipped the thought away and got along with your life.

You were walking around the corners of the Barrel, you wanted to be alone, as you blended in with the others, the crowds noise was silencing your thoughts. Well, under Kaz’s command, it wasn’t very easy but you felt safe and powerful. The threats of Rollins wasn’t new, but it didn’t scare you that much. Since you were a traitor in Ravka. You flied away from there and left the Army.

Of course, over the time passed Kaz learned why you were in Ketterdam as you told him the story of your life. You thought he would judge you but he was no better man. So he just didn’t mind it.

You earned his respect with how much you cared for his crows. How you treated their wounds after a fight very gently and how you were loyal to him and his team. It didn’t slip from his gazes.

As you turned around the corner, you felt a pair of hands grabbing your mouth harshly. You panicked just for a second. Then you tried to fight back to the man who held you tightly. You took a knife out of your pocket and hit him on his belly, as he whined in pain, you freed yourself from his prying hands. As you turned to look at the man, you heard a strong accent.

“I can say, I was very disappointed to hear you began to work under- Mr. Brekker, aye?” As you heard his voice, you turned to the owner of the voice. Pekka Rollins.

“What do you want?” You said sternly. He approached to you. “It is such a clever move, I say,” He looked terrific. As meeting his gaze, Pekka’s gaze didn’t seem to move away from you. “Hiring a healer? A Grisha.” He smiled. “A traitor…” You look at him disgustingly.

“Well, I don’t know what you are talking about.” You said it dumbfounded. He looked at you with range. “What should I do to you, Dame Blanche, huh? Or should I say… Miss L/N?”

You looked at him with anger. “I don’t care what you’ll do. I won’t back away from a fight.” You said it confidently. He looked at you with smug smile. “Oh, I won’t do you harm, The Black General, I think he is going to do.” You looked at him disbelief. As two of his guy grabbed your shoulders, you fought to get away from their grip but you couldn’t succeed.

Pekka approached to you and squeezed your cheeks in a hurtful manner. “After what would done to you, you are gonna regret to work under that bastard, lass.”

The next minute, you felt pain on your back as slowly, your vision blurred and your eyes went black.

As couple of hours passed and you opened your eyes, the sharp pain on your head was making you feel uncomfortable. You tried to open your eyes but your eyelids were too heavy and you feared.

What if Kaz couldn’t find you?

What if Kaz wouldn’t find you?

What if he doesn’t care about your sudden disappearance?

What if he,

if he thinks you betrayed him too?

[mrsparrasblog]

Mission save the human race Pt1.

Pt2

2090 Days since it happened since your life changed completely. You can still remember the day of the outburst like it was yesterday. You were stuck performing an appendectomy on a five-year-old, and then there were shots – the military evacuating us. You didn't take it seriously at that time; thought it would be like every pandemic, and there would be a cure soon. But after weeks spent with your family in a military camp, you knew it was nothing like this. You remembered how the military shot women who even got near to a zombie – too much of a risk that they could get infected. The irony of the whole thing was that women were the carriers of this unknown virus, while men only turned when they got bitten. Women turned by a simple scratch of a zombie, or when they died of any cause, they would turn in a glimpse of a second into these brainless creatures.

After it went completely downhill and more healthy people got shot without any remorse, your dad, brother, and you tried to flee out of the military base, resulting in your dad and brother getting shot, screaming you should just take their gun and leave as fast as possible. You never felt more remorse than leaving their corpses behind, but you had more than enough years to mourn them and pray for forgiveness. On the way to a safe place, you noticed small details, weird details. You got scratched, even bitten on the way, expecting to fully turn into a brainless monster – but you didn't, and to this date, you didn't know why. Well, there wouldn't be a lab anymore to find out anyway, so you just accepted it as a blessing first. But after a while, you learned the true curse of living in this shithole.

The survivors were scarier than the zombies and almost as inhuman as them – while most didn't try to hurt you since a surgeon always could get handsy in a zombie apocalypse, you still saw the horrors of self-proclaimed "Leaders" who killed in the most inhumane way just to prove their dominance. They weren't better than animals. You saw how different groups tried to start wars with each other to win resources and territory. There was still enough place and enough resources in the world for both of them to survive, so it was just a power play. If you had had a say in this, you would have tried everything to start a civilization with many people trying to rebuild humanity with strong people as guards, people farming, and people working in the infirmary, but no one ever listened to you. Why should they, as the Apocalypse proceeded, the hatred of women got only worse – "The reason for the apocalypse," resulting in women getting used, tortured, and raped if they weren't useful in other ways, and you thanked every day your mother who practically forced you to study medicine instead of law.

After months, you finally had enough and ran away from the camp – not tolerating the inhumane ways. You wondered if you were the inhuman one for leaving people there who you could have healed if you had stayed, but sometimes you needed to be egoistical, and you at least tried to stay as innocent as possible through the apocalypse. You lost everything but not your good heart which made you incredibly proud of yourself.

You didn't know how you survived this. You didn't have a particular skill set; sure, you were a pediatric surgeon before all of this, you were capable, you were smart, which probably led you to survive. But you weren't something that was of use like a soldier or police officer. God, before this Apocalypse, you didn't even carry your groceries to your apartment. You were screwed but somehow you still survived, with your one handgun that you nicked off the corpse of your dead dad. The irony was you didn't even use it in three years; you never used your gun – god, did you even know how to use it? You highly doubted it.

You claimed yourself a small cottage in the forest. It wasn't much but pretty well-hidden, and you built-in safety measurements so no walker could surprise you by night. You lived in a shithole but at least in a comfortable manner. The house had three small bedrooms, a kitchen with a tiled stove, a fireplace, a water source, and enough space outside so you could grow all sorts of vegetables and fruits. Pumpkins, potatoes, cucumbers, tomatoes, strawberries, and raspberries highlight your perfect garden. You even had some apple and cherry trees you took great pride in. Before all started, you couldn't say you were good at gardening; even your cactus didn't survive the neglect you put them through – but you used all your remaining time learning about farming and providing for yourself, growing plants you can use as medication. In your imagination, you would somehow manage to have some chickens and cows, but you knew it would draw way too much attention, and you liked your hidden lifestyle way too much for this to happen. You were quite naive; you thought this would stay this way until-.

You heard sounds from your garden – nothing unusual since some local animals came and tried to steal a carrot or two, but then the sounds of multiple men echoed.

"Fuck."

They blundered in weird ways, talking about finding a safe place and raiding something. You ran upstairs, grabbed your handgun, and hid in the closet.

"Fuck, here isn't anything useful," a man with a hoarse voice and a British accent cursed all my cabins violently.

"Johnny, you will get through this; you won't die on me," a man said with a worried voice.

"He has a fucking bullet in his shoulder; how can he fucking survive this?" A bullet in his shoulder, probably not gone through. If it didn't hit anything major, his survival rate would be 80% in a normal world, depending on the material of the bullet; he could survive or die. If it's lead and stays inside his body, he will be dead in at least 4 days from lead poisoning. If the wound isn't properly cleaned – blood poisoning. If they take it out of him and don't properly sew him – death. This man hasn't a high chance of surviving. You could at least triple the chance of his survival, but if you get out there, you would probably lose the chance of survival by several digits. Your morale was high; you swore an oath to help every human you were capable of saving, but was it worth more than your own life?

"Shut the fuck up," the worried man screamed at the other.

You decided to stay in the closet, a choice you'd later regret, your lack of courage weighing on you as survival seemed uncertain. Tears slowly started to fall from your eyes, running against your soft rosy cheeks. Your handgun was clutched tightly in your sweaty palms, your breath trembling from pure horror, convinced that today might be your last.

With a sudden grunt, the closet door swung open. Before you stood four imposing men, each holding big machine guns, and a fifth man, held by another, similarly armed.

In front of you was a middle-aged man with brown hair, a fishing hat atop his head, and the most amazing blue eyes you had ever seen. He was tall and muscular, with a well-groomed beard for an apocalypse. Handsome and scary simultaneously.

The second man was one of the most attractive individuals you'd ever laid eyes on. He had brown-golden skin, trusting brown eyes, and a cap perched on his head. His gaze held a mix of awe and confusion as he looked at you.

The third man was colossal, ripped with muscles, and possibly the tallest person you'd encountered. He sported a blonde buzz cut and blue eyes that glowed red, giving him an intimidating aura. With an unhealed scar across his eyes and some stubles, he probably was incapable of growing a beard because of the scar tissue.

The fourth man looked similar to the one with the fishing hat; the only difference was his dirty blonde hair and tattoo sleeves. You noticed the prosthetic leg and wondered whether it had been dealt with properly – you sure as hell could help him too.

The last one was the man who got shot, and held by the scary men. He was the shortest of the group but still taller than you by several inches. His hair was in a funny mohawk, and he was ripped – not a bit; he was built like a fucking powerhouse. You couldn't shake the thought away that if you had known him through med school, learning anatomy would have been different – all those muscles – focus.

You thought that your potential killers were all good-looking, each in different ways. Despite this, you still pointed your gun at them, and they held their machine guns at you.

"A woman – I thought they were all dead," the man with the cap said, making you curious. All dead? When you last left your forest two years ago, there weren't many women, but there were still some out there.

You gathered all your remaining courage, shaking as you said, "Leave me alone, or I shoot." They laughed at you. Okay, they had more people and bigger guns, but you could still harm at least one of them.

"Oh, dove, your gun is still secured," the man with the fishing hat said, trying to hold out a laugh.

You tried to fidget with your gun, but you didn't know how to unsecure it. So, you just lowered it and held your hands up in the air.

"We don't have time for this shit. Knock her out or something; we need to fucking save Johnny," the scary man said, sending shivers down your spine out of fear.

"If you don't kill me, I'll save your friend." Win-win situation; you'll survive, and your morals are saved.

"Shut the fuck up. How could a stupid girl who can't even use a gun save him?" the scary man screamed. You were sure that he had a special bond with this Johnny, sure as hell best friends or lovers by how he acted.

"I'm a surgeon; I can remove the bullet," you said.

"You're a surgeon?" the tattoo man asked in disbelief at your claim.

"Which field?" the scary man asked you.

"Uhm, I was a pediatric surgeon."

"Does he look like a fucking child to you?"

"Simon, we don't have much choice. It's better than nothing; he will die if we don't do anything," Fisher hat man tried to convince Simon.

Simon agreed. "What do you need?"

You were afraid to be a bit rusty, but you'll make it. "Okay, one of you will bring me as much water as he can gather, one needs to guard the door. I don't need any interruptions in my surgery. One needs to stay in the room; this will hurt as hell without proper numbing. My surgical equipment is in the closet by the bathroom, as well as the medication I produced. You need to tie him to the bed; I don't know how, and I don't care, as long as he doesn't try to kill me while I try to fix his shoulder, and I need a promise that I won't be killed if he doesn't survive."

"Yes, ma'am," the tattoo guy said and was on his way. All the men worked efficiently, making you wonder if they had some military background since they listened better than my old residents, at least.

The man who introduced himself as Kyle - by the way, the only one who introduced himself to you - tied Johnny to the bed. Everything was now prepared, and you tried to make this place as sterile as possible.

You sat down on Johnny since you couldn't stand properly by the bed for the surgery and had the advantage of holding him down with your body weight.

"Hey Johnny, this will hurt a bit, okay, but you need to be strong, okay?" You talked to him like with your child patients, but that didn't matter right now. Right now, it mattered to save him.

Johnny spoke completely drowsy from the pain, "Am I deid, Lt? Or how come dae I see an angel oan tap o' me?" You chuckled; even in pain, you noticed that that man was a total flirt.

"Shut up, Johnny, and survive," Simon said.

"Love ya, Lt."

"I love you too, idiot." You were right in your thoughts; they were indeed a couple and a handsome one. You couldn't shake the feeling away, though, that he probably would kill you in the most vicious way if Johnny didn't survive.

You slid your scalpel through him and started the surgery after at least six terrible hours of fear and exhaustion; you were finished; you saved him. You were a bit envious of Johnny; Simon stayed the whole time by his side without being grossed out or yawning for a second; they loved each other. You never experienced that kind of love and never will...

Now he only needs to survive the aftermath of the surgery, which will be harder for his body than the actual surgery since the adrenaline wore off. You were glad that you were able to nick some antibiotics and real medication from a nearby emergency station. You were always better safe than sorry.

You removed the blood from yourself and washed yourself with cold water, which felt like an eternity till you pronounced yourself clean enough. You put on some cozy clothing and walked to the living room where three men sat sandwiched on the small couch. Simon stayed by Johnny.

You planted yourself across from them and looked at them until Fisher Man Hat spoke.

"Thank you for saving our man; I'm John, by the way."

"Alex."

"Well, you already know my name; how can we call you?" Kyle asked you.

"Uhm, everyone always called me Dr. Angel, since the kiddies compared me to one," you replied, telling them the truth.

"Beautiful nickname for a beautiful woman," John said.

You couldn't hide a blush, and Kyle asked you how it came that you lived alone. You explained your life story without boring them for one second.

"Tell me something about the six of you."

"Uhm, we were special forces back in the days before everything went downhill. We protected some scientists who worked on a cure, but they didn't make it and died in one of their experiments. We are originally seven, but the other two are on a raid right now for our camp. I know we probably scare you, but if you want to, you can stay with us, no strings attached. We know how humanity changed, and being the only woman alive makes it even scarier, but we will protect you since you saved one of our own," John explained. You were still confused, only woman alive? How is this possible? Well, you were immune to the virus, but you didn't need to tell them right now since this would make you even more vulnerable.

"Only woman alive?"

"Yes, dove, the woman's got instinct with them, the human race." You gulped; your moral codex spoke to you again. Shouldn't you prevent that from happening? Or is this nature's plan? You didn't want to think about it further.

"Does anyone of you want to eat something? I'm starving," you exclaimed, trying to change the subject to something less uncomfortable.

"You don't have to feed us; you already did enough," Kyle said.

"Nonsense! I'm hungry, and I have more than enough vegetables to feed a whole army," you protested and walked towards your kitchen. You took out the preserved tomatoes and potatoes and wanted to slice them, but a tall figure already removed your knife from your hands.

"Let me help; it's the least thing I can do after you did so much for us," Alex said and started to slice the vegetables while you tried to heat your pot. The other two put plates on your small kitchen table, making it feel incredibly domestic for you. They looked like husbands caring for their wives, and you wanted to shake out the thoughts in your head. You were just underfucked from the whole apocalypse, but deep down, you knew they did something to you, made you feel a tight knot in your stomach.

You took one portion up to Simon, who still gathered around Johnny's bed. With a sudden movement, the tall man hugged you tight, almost crushing you with his sheer strength.

"Thank you for saving him and sorry for being mean to you."

"I understand; I'd do the same if someone I dearly loved would be injured in this hell of a life," he tried to pull a smile at my words. "Here's some hot food, and give Johnny his antibiotics in an hour, okay?"

"Hot food? I haven't had that since forever."

I laughed, "Get used to it, big boy." He raised a brow but didn't question it.

You went downstairs and saw the men laughing while waiting for you like true gentlemen. Kyle blushed a bit when you came down, and they instantly stopped their talk. You asked yourself what they talked about, maybe something that would be dangerous. They ate like starved men and told you how long they didn't have anything warm in their bellies, making you realize how lucky you were in your cottage with your grown food. The only thing you were missing was someone to warm your bed—stop it, you said to your inner thoughts.

You gave the remaining boys some blankets and showed them enough places to sleep, and as they didn't mind sharing, everything went perfectly. Alex took the patrol for the night, telling you it needed to be done even if you never patrolled for the last two years. The other men called you naive for it. You checked one time on Johnny if he had a fever or anything like that, but to your luck, he was fine, still asleep and high on medication. Simon slept beside him, and you couldn't stop yourself from putting a blanket on top of him. He deserved the comfort after taking care of his boyfriend that way.

John walked you down to your room, talking a bit to you, which gave you more comfort than you wanted to admit. You were a human after all, and humans missed humans when they lived two years in isolation to survive.

"Did you ever think about what it means for you to be the only woman alive?" he asked you.

"It's pretty weird to think about it."

"Kinda."

"I guess the human race will go extinct then."

"There are ways if you decide to—you know, save the planet and everything. You seem like a girl who always wants to do the right thing."

"You mean getting pregnant?"

"Exactly, saving the human race and everything."

"Would it be selfish if I let it die?"

"A bit, but it's your choice. I will always protect you from everyone who wants to take advantage of you. You're part of the team now."

"And what if I decide to want to save it?"

His eyes lit up. "Then, of course, I'd support you, like every man on this team. I think most of my boys wouldn't be repulsed by helping you to reach this goal." You blushed hard. Did he just tell you—shit.

"And what about you, John?"

"I'd be more than willing to participate. You're incredibly looking, dove, and I'm just a man behind all this."

"I'll think about it," but you couldn't shake away the feeling of them—you could have all of them.

"Take your time, dove." He kissed you on your rosy cheek and left you completely crazy alone with your thoughts. It was too long ago, and you felt the familiar feeling building up inside of you. Fuck it, you thought and decided to speak with them about it tomorrow. You're a good person after all, right? And that's what a good person does?