#until i finally looked at it and was like '. . . wait. it's different!"

[swappermanent]

Normal Kids

“I’m 19! I’m old enough to make decisions about my own body!” I yelled, my voice echoing off the kitchen walls. My chest heaved as I stood across from my parents, their expressions a cocktail of disbelief, frustration, and something I couldn’t quite place—grief, maybe?

My mom crossed her arms tightly over her chest, looking anywhere but at me. “I’m sorry, we just… we can’t let you do that.”

“Let me?” I spat, the word tasting bitter. “You can’t let me? Do you even hear yourselves? This isn’t something you control! This is my life. My body.”

Dad rubbed his temples, his fingers digging into his skin like he could will the conversation away. “You’re too young to make a decision like this,” he said finally, his voice low but strained. “You don’t even know what you’re doing.”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life,” I shot back, feeling my hands shake. “I’ve spent years figuring this out—every sleepless night, every time I looked in the mirror and didn’t recognize myself, every time I wanted to scream because I couldn’t be who I am. Don’t tell me I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Mom finally looked up, her face pale but her eyes blazing. “This isn’t about us not loving you. We just…” She paused, her voice trembling. “We don’t understand why you have to keep doing this to us.”

My stomach dropped, but I held my ground. “This isn’t something I’m doing to you. This is me—this is who I am. It’s not a phase or a rebellion or whatever else you want to call it. You’ve already been through this once with Liam. Are you seriously telling me you didn’t learn anything?”

Dad flinched, and I knew I’d hit a nerve. Liam, my older brother, had been their golden boy until he came out as gay a few years ago. It wasn’t pretty—he’d waited until he was moving out to tell them, probably because he knew exactly how they’d react. The disappointment in their eyes, the long silences, the occasional outburst when they thought no one else could hear… it had been brutal. But Liam had stood his ground, just like I was now.

When he left, I’d thought it couldn’t get worse. But then, a few months later, I’d come out as a lesbian. Their reaction had been less dramatic that time—probably because they were already so exhausted from Liam—but it wasn’t exactly warm, either. They’d treated it like a wound that would heal if they just ignored it long enough.

But this… this was different. A few weeks ago, I’d finally found the courage to tell them I was trans. And the look on their faces when I said those words—it was like I’d detonated a bomb in the living room.

“First Liam, and now this,” Mom had whispered that night, her voice shaking. “Why can’t we just have normal kids?”

That phrase had been replaying in my head ever since. Normal kids. Like there was some checklist of qualities that made you acceptable, and Liam and I had failed to meet every single one of them.

Now, as I stood in the kitchen, I felt that familiar mix of anger and sadness bubbling up. “I’m sorry I’m not the daughter you wanted,” I said, my voice breaking despite my best efforts. “But I can’t keep pretending to be someone I’m not just to make you comfortable.”

“Why can’t you wait?” Dad said, his voice softer now. “Just give it a few years, until you’re older. Until you’re absolutely sure.”

“I am sure,” I said, looking him directly in the eyes. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. And I’m not going to waste any more time being someone I’m not.”

Silence hung in the air like a heavy fog. My parents exchanged a glance, but neither of them said anything. For a moment, I thought I saw something shift in my mom’s expression—something that looked almost like understanding. But then it was gone, replaced by the same tight-lipped resolve.

“We just need time,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “This is… a lot.”

I nodded, biting back the sharp response I wanted to give. I knew I wouldn’t change their minds tonight. But I also knew that I wasn’t going to stop fighting. For Liam, for myself, for every other kid who’d ever been told they weren’t enough—I wasn’t going to give up.

For months, I begged and badgered my parents to let me start transitioning. Every conversation ended in a brick wall—excuses about my age, about not understanding the “gravity” of my decision, about the costs. They controlled the insurance, and they paid my college tuition. Without their approval, I was stuck. Trapped in a body that didn’t feel like mine and a life that didn’t feel like it fit.

But then, one evening, they relented.

“We’ve… been thinking about your request,” my mom said hesitantly over dinner. I immediately froze, my fork halfway to my mouth.

My dad chimed in. “We found a clinic that might be able to help.”

I blinked, surprised but cautious. “Really?” I asked, my voice laced with doubt.

“Yes,” my mom replied, forcing a smile. “It’s… unconventional, but we think it might be what you’re looking for. They specialize in full-body transformations.”

Something about her tone set me on edge, but I didn’t press. I was too desperate for their approval. If they were finally agreeing to help me, I wasn’t about to question it. The only condition? Liam had to take me.

I love my brother. He’s my rock, the only person who truly gets me. So, I didn’t mind the idea of him tagging along. In fact, I was relieved to have him there. I told myself that having his support would make this feel less terrifying.

The clinic was nothing like I expected. It wasn’t a sterile hospital or some dingy back-alley operation. It was sleek, modern, and impossibly fancy. Marble floors, pristine white walls, the faint smell of lavender in the air. The kind of place you’d expect celebrities to visit for some high-end spa treatment.

A woman in a crisp white suit greeted us at the front desk. Her smile was warm but unnervingly perfect. “Welcome,” she said. “We’ve been expecting you.”

Liam raised an eyebrow at me, but I shrugged. We were led into a private lounge, where they offered us water and reassured me that the procedure was safe and effective. A doctor arrived shortly after and explained that Liam and I would be separated for a brief consultation. That seemed odd, but I didn’t overthink it. Maybe they wanted to talk about medical history or something.

The moment I stepped into my consultation room, my gut told me something was off. It wasn’t the room itself—it was just as fancy as the rest of the place, with plush chairs and soft lighting—but there was an odd energy in the air. The doctor who entered was an older man with kind eyes, but his words sent a chill down my spine.

“This isn’t your typical hormone therapy clinic,” he began. “What we offer here is… revolutionary. Instead of months or years of transitioning, we provide an immediate solution.”

I frowned. “Immediate?”

“Yes,” he said, leaning forward. “We specialize in body-swapping technology. You would be able to inhabit a different body entirely—one that aligns with who you truly are.”

My stomach flipped. “Body-swapping?” I repeated, barely able to process what he was saying.

The doctor nodded, his expression calm, like this was the most normal thing in the world. “In your case, your parents have arranged for a body that they believe would suit you. Strong, male, conventionally attractive. We’re ready to begin the process, provided we have your consent.”

My heart was pounding now. “What body?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Your brother’s,” the doctor said simply.

The room spun. “What?” I croaked. “You’re saying… you want me to swap bodies with Liam?”

The doctor nodded again. “Yes. Your parents thought this would provide you with the life you’re seeking—male, straight, and socially acceptable. Liam has already been sedated and prepped for the procedure. He’ll retain his memories and sense of self, but he’ll wake up in your body.”

My mind raced, trying to piece everything together. “Does Liam… does he know about this?”

“No,” the doctor admitted. “He doesn’t need to. He’ll adapt in time. All we need is your consent.”

I felt like I couldn’t breathe. This was insane. They wanted to rip apart my brother’s life without his knowledge, without his consent. It was horrifying. And yet… the image of Liam’s body flashed in my mind. He was everything I’d ever wanted to be—handsome, muscular, confident. I imagined the life I could have in his shoes. The ease, the acceptance. The chance to finally feel right in my own skin.

“You’ll be happy,” the doctor said, as though reading my thoughts. “This is the opportunity of a lifetime.”

I clenched my fists, my heart racing. Every fiber of my being screamed that this was wrong, that Liam didn’t deserve this. But at the same time, the temptation was undeniable. How could I say no to something I’d dreamed of my entire life?

“I…” My voice wavered. I glanced at the door, imagining Liam just a room away, completely unaware of what was happening.

But the thought of waking up in his body, of finally feeling at home, was too powerful to ignore.

“I’ll do it,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “I’ll do it.”

The doctor’s smile widened. “Excellent. Let’s get started.”

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the weight. Not the kind that dragged you down, but something grounding, solid, like my body was finally my own. My eyelids fluttered open, and my heart skipped as I caught sight of my arm resting against the pristine white sheets. Strong, defined, dusted with dark hair that caught the soft light streaming in through the window. I flexed my fingers experimentally, watching tendons shift under the skin.

It felt… right.

I sat up, the sheets pooling around my waist, and ran a hand over my chest. The sensation of my fingers brushing through coarse hair was electric. My pecs were firm, rising and falling with each breath, and I couldn’t stop myself from tracing the ridges of muscle down to my abs. Every touch felt like discovering a secret, a hidden part of myself I’d been waiting my entire life to meet.

Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I caught sight of my reflection in the full-length mirror across the room. My breath hitched. Liam’s body—no, my body—looked even more incredible in motion. Broad shoulders, a tapered waist, the kind of build that turned heads. I stood slowly, marveling at the way my thighs tensed with the movement, the muscles taut and powerful beneath the skin.

I stepped closer to the mirror, placing a hand on the glass as though I needed to prove this was real. My other hand drifted up to my jaw, rough with stubble. I dragged my fingers across it, savoring the gritty sensation. The shadow of a beard framed my face, making my features sharper, more defined. I tilted my head, flexing experimentally, watching my shoulders and arms ripple with strength.

A shiver ran down my spine as I splayed my fingers across my chest, the dark hair soft yet coarse against my palm. My nipples stiffened under my touch, the sensation sparking an unfamiliar but intoxicating heat. I trailed my hand lower, tracing the faint line of hair that led down my stomach, feeling the muscles shift beneath my fingertips.

I turned to the side, marveling at the broadness of my back, the way it tapered into my hips. My hand skimmed over the curve of my biceps, then down to my forearm, where veins snaked beneath the skin, pulsing faintly with life. Every inch of me felt alive, thrumming with energy I’d never known before.

A sudden laugh escaped my lips, low and rich, surprising me with its depth. I couldn’t help but grin, running a hand through my hair, which was thick and slightly messy from sleep. The movement flexed my arm, and I turned back to the mirror, caught up in the intoxicating sight of strength and masculinity. This was me—finally me.

The knock at the door was soft but purposeful, and when I turned, the nurse from earlier stepped in. She was petite but poised, her blonde hair swept into a neat ponytail, her cheeks tinged pink as she glanced at me. I realized I was still shirtless, standing in all my glory, and I couldn’t help but smirk. The confidence in this body felt second nature, like slipping on a well-tailored suit.

“Just checking to see how you’re feeling,” she said, her voice warm but a little breathy. Her eyes lingered on my chest a beat too long before darting away, her blush deepening.

“I’m feeling incredible,” I said, letting my voice drop an octave. “But you probably hear that a lot.”

She chuckled nervously, her hands fiddling with the clipboard she carried. “Well, we do aim to please.”

I stepped closer, the smooth strength of my legs propelling me forward effortlessly. “You’ve done more than that.” I flexed my arm casually, the muscles swelling under my skin. “I’m guessing Liam—uh, I—had an arms workout yesterday. Feel that.” I offered my bicep, and her eyes widened slightly before she hesitantly reached out.

Her fingers brushed my skin, and I tensed the muscle, watching her expression shift as she gave a quiet, appreciative gasp. “Wow,” she murmured. “That’s… impressive.”

“Thanks,” I said, grinning. “All yours to admire.”

Her blush deepened, but she didn’t pull away. Emboldened, I let my hand rest lightly on her waist. Her breath hitched, and I could feel the warmth of her body through her scrubs. My touch was gentle, but I knew the strength behind it was unmistakable—controlled, deliberate, intoxicating.

“You’re incredible,” I said softly, my thumb tracing small circles on her side. She shivered under my touch, her gaze locking with mine. The tension in the room was electric, every second stretching out tantalizingly. My hand drifted lower, just brushing the curve of her hip.

I reached for the waistband of my pants, ready to strip down and revel in this moment fully when—

The door burst open with a crash, and I whipped around to see myself—my old self—standing there, wide-eyed and furious.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

[posttexasstressdisorder]

So much this.

And yes, it has an effect in destroying our Solidarity and our Morale, breaking our Collective Spirit as a Nation.

Our emotional responses are coded in until we realize they aren't. We can change them. We can resist having our Spirits broken and our Morale tanked.

The motherfuckers haven't won totally.

He doesn't have enough goons to pull his treachery off, and I am sure there are probably some high-ranking military who will resist him as well.

Something that my late bro' brought up over and over and it finally sunk into my thick skull: "You ALWAYS go to the WORST POSSIBLE PLACE with EVERYTHING!" And, yeah...it happens. But I'm not running around like this:

No, it's now a smoldering rage, mouth set in a line of grim determination not to let the bluster destroy my serenity.

Be aware, of course, but unhook your emotional response from their evil bluster, because bluster is what it is, at the moment. That's all. They've unveiled themselves. We see their Evil.

Now we wait and observe, we let the lawsuits and legal yada yada play out. We connect with like-minded citizens and we organize.

We still have people fighting for us. We each have to fight this as best we can, in the best way we individually can. The fight is going to look different for each of us. Fight smart. Fight efficiently. Use your best talents.

Use your mode of communicating through The Art and The Music. Whatever-your-talent-is-in-the-world...be it architecture or accounting, or cooking and baking, or sewing or whatever. You will fill a need that is going to arise. You will help the greater Fight.

Fight the way YOU know how to fight. Fight the way that will best help your community, those around you, those you are connecting with to build whatever communities we will have to build as this plays out around us.

Executive orders do not change the Constitution or laws passed in Congress.

Push back. Use your voice. Stay engaged.

DO NOT SUBMIT IN ADVANCE.

There are more of us than them.

[lazysoulwriter]

Yes, it's her. - Lewis Hamilton.

Summary: Y/N and Lewis Hamilton have always been spotted together, hand in hand, leaving people to speculate about their relationship. While they found the rumors amusing, Lewis wanted to make it official. It was just a simple request to date—no big deal—so why was he so nervous? With his usual charm and a lot of cheesy jokes, he takes a leap, hoping she’ll say yes.

The evening had started like any other. The two of you had ordered takeout and were sprawled on the couch, lazily scrolling through Netflix to find something neither of you would actually pay attention to.

“Rom-com?” Lewis asked, scrolling past 10 Things I Hate About You.

“Too predictable.”

“Action?” He paused on a Marvel movie.

“Too loud.”

“Horror?”

You shot him a look, and he smirked. “Too scary for you, babe?”

“I’m not scared. I just don’t feel like spending the night listening to you scream.”

He laughed, tossing the remote onto the coffee table. “Fine. No movie. Let’s just sit here and bask in each other’s presence.”

“Oh, how romantic,” you teased, pulling your legs up onto the couch.

Lewis shifted beside you, his knee bouncing ever so slightly. You noticed but said nothing. It wasn’t unusual for him to fidget—he was always full of energy—but tonight felt different.

“You okay?” you finally asked, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Yeah, of course,” he said quickly, his voice just a tad too high-pitched to be convincing.

“Lewis…”

He turned to you with a grin that was a little too wide. “What? Can’t a man enjoy some quality time with his favorite person?”

“Are you sure you’re not hiding something? You’re acting weird.”

“Me? Weird? Never.” He reached for his wine glass, taking a sip that lasted just a little too long.

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you nervous about something? Did you crash another car?”

He nearly choked on his wine. “What? No! Why would you even say that?”

“Because the last time you acted like this, you accidentally ran over my potted plant with your electric scooter.”

He groaned, covering his face. “You’re never letting that go, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

He chuckled, but the nervous energy didn’t leave him. Instead, he leaned back, pulling you closer until your head was resting on his chest. His fingers played with the ends of your hair, and you could feel his heart beating faster than usual.

“You know,” he started, his tone lighter now, “the paparazzi think we’re already dating.”

You smiled, recalling the many headlines you’d seen: ‘Lewis Hamilton and Mystery Woman: Romance or Friendship?’ or ‘Spotted Again: Are They or Aren’t They?’

“They’re pretty creative,” you said. “Remember the one where they said we were secretly engaged?”

“Oh, and the one about us having a secret baby?”

You both burst out laughing, the tension in his body easing slightly.

“I mean, it’s kind of funny,” he said. “They’re all desperate to figure it out.”

“Well, let them keep guessing. It’s more fun this way.”

“Yeah… but what if we didn’t make them guess anymore?”

You froze for a moment, lifting your head to look at him. “What do you mean?”

He cleared his throat, suddenly looking everywhere except at you. “I mean… what if we, you know, made it official?”

You stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate. “Lewis, are you asking me out right now?”

His cheeks flushed, and he laughed nervously. “Okay, this is not going how I planned.”

“You had a plan?”

“Kind of. But then I got nervous, and now I’m rambling, and I don’t know why because this should be easy, right? It’s just… I like you. Like, really like you. And I know we’ve never called it anything, but I want to. I want to call you mine, officially. So… will you?”

For a moment, you just blinked at him, trying to process his words. Then, a grin spread across your face. “You’re such a dork.”

“Is that a yes?”

You rolled your eyes, leaning forward to kiss him softly. “Of course, it’s a yes.”

The relief on his face was palpable, and he let out a dramatic sigh. “Thank God. I was about to start sweating.”

“You were already sweating,” you teased.

“Okay, rude.” He pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “But you said yes, so I’ll let it slide.”

Later that night, after the excitement had settled and you were both curled up on the couch again, Lewis grabbed his phone.

“What are you doing?” you asked, peeking over his shoulder.

“Posting something,” he said, his tone casual.

You groaned. “Lewis…”

“Relax, it’s nothing big.”

He showed you the screen. It was a photo he’d taken of you earlier that evening, laughing mid-bite of your dinner, entirely candid. The caption read: “Yes. It’s her.”

You covered your face with a pillow. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” he said, grinning as he hit post.

You couldn’t argue with that.

[lizziesangel]

RAFE CAMERON ⟢ waiting on you

xPOGUE!FEM!reader ⟢ MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: based on this request ⟢ you and rafe have a date, but when he doesn't show up, you decide to leave

WORD COUNT: +2.k

GENRE: fluff

CONTENT WARNING: /

rafe wasn’t sure what had changed in him. maybe it was the endless longing looks he’d cast across the beach, the rare glimpses of you tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, or the soft way you always greeted people with a smile, even when they didn’t deserve it. whatever it was, his ingrained disdain for pogues had crumbled like a weak sandcastle against a rising tide.

but you were different.

for months, he’d watched from afar, debating whether he had the courage to approach you. and when he finally did, fumbling over his words like an idiot, you’d agreed to dinner without hesitation, flashing that sweet smile that made his heart stumble in his chest.

so ‘why’, rafe thought bitterly as he stared at his totaled car. did life seem determined to ruin everything?

you sat in the dimly lit corner of the restaurant, your once-bright smile fading with every passing minute. the flickering candlelight reflected your unease as you glanced at the time on your phone for the hundredth time.

you had debated even going to the restaurant in the first place.

as you stood in front of the mirror earlier that evening, nervously smoothing the fabric of your dress, kie’s voice echoed in your mind.

“are you sure about this? it’s rafe cameron, of all people. he’s a kook, and not just any kook—he’s, like, the kook. you don’t think this is some kind of game to him?”

cleo had chimed in, her tone skeptical. “girl, i don’t trust him as far as i could throw him. guys like rafe don’t change, no matter how pretty they smile.”

you’d waved them off, laughing nervously. “i know, i know. but he seemed… different. he was so shy when he asked me out. i think he really meant it.”

kiara had shared a pointed look with cleo. “just… be careful, okay?”

now, as you sat at the small table near the window of the restaurant, watching the candle on the table flicker, their words played on repeat in your mind. you’d arrived ten minutes early, too nervous to be late. but now, rafe was ten minutes late.

you told yourself not to panic. maybe he was stuck in traffic. maybe he’d lost track of time. he’d show up.

right?

you checked your phone again, scrolling back through the single text he’d sent earlier in the day: “can’t wait to see you tonight. :)”

you stared at the smiley face until it blurred, second-guessing everything. was it genuine, or was it mocking? was this all a setup?

a waiter passed by, glancing at your empty table. “can i get you something while you wait?”

you smiled weakly. “just water, please.”

another twenty minutes passed, and your heart sank lower with each tick of the clock. the couple at the next table kept stealing glances your way, whispering. you felt their pity like a heavy weight on your shoulders.

you glanced at the time again. forty-five minutes late.

the lump in your throat grew as you looked down at your hands, neatly folded in your lap. you’d spent so much time getting ready—choosing the perfect dress, applying your makeup carefully, even borrowing a pair of heels from kiara because you wanted to look just right. for him.

but now, sitting alone, you couldn’t help but feel foolish.

rafe was late.

almost an hour late.

the words you’d tried to push away resurfaced:

“guys like rafe don’t change.”

your phone buzzed suddenly, and hope flared for a split second, only to be crushed when you saw it was a text from cleo: “how’s it going? he show up yet?”

you stared at the screen, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. finally, you typed back, “no. still waiting.”

her reply came almost instantly: “you deserve better, babe. leave his ass.”

you bit your lip, blinking back tears. maybe she was right. maybe this had all been some sick joke.

you grabbed your bag, your stomach twisting as you stood. the waiter glanced over as you waved him down. “i think i’m just going to head out,” you said quietly, your voice trembling.

as you stepped out into the cool night air, a single tear slipped down your cheek. you wiped it away quickly, furious with yourself for letting it get to you.

by the time you got home, you’d convinced yourself of one thing: you should never have trusted rafe cameron.

back at home, you kicked off your heels the moment you stepped through the door. the sting of disappointment still sat heavy in your chest, and the first thing you did was strip out of the carefully chosen dress and toss it onto your bed.

the mirror caught your reflection as you pulled your makeup wipes from the counter. you looked tired, the streaks of mascara and the smudged lipstick serving as a cruel reminder of how much effort you’d put into tonight—for nothing.

you sighed, muttering under your breath as you scrubbed at your face, “should’ve listened to kie and cleo. God, i’m so stupid.”

once your face was bare, you slipped into your favorite oversized sweatshirt and a pair of worn sweatpants. the cozy clothes were a stark contrast to the effort you’d put into dressing up, and yet you felt oddly comforted by the familiarity.

the pang of humiliation hadn’t dulled, though. you grabbed your phone, scrolling aimlessly for a moment before finding cleo’s number.

it barely rang once before she picked up. “girl, tell me you left.”

you sank into the couch, cradling the phone to your ear. “i left.” your voice cracked despite yourself.

there was a pause before Cleo spoke again, her tone softer. “oh, babe. i’m sorry. you don’t deserve that.”

tears prickled your eyes, but you blinked them away. “i just… i don’t know what i was thinking. i sat there like an idiot, waiting for almost an hour. everyone was staring at me, cleo. it was humiliating.”

“first of all,” cleo said firmly, “you’re not an idiot. he’s the idiot. secondly, you deserve so much better. kie and i said it before—rafe cameron is a walking red flag. i mean, the guy’s got more baggage than a damn airport.”

despite your mood, a soft laugh escaped you. “i know. i just… i thought he was different this time, you know? he seemed so genuine when he asked me out.”

cleo’s voice softened again. “sweetheart, you’re the nicest person i know. it’s not your fault you wanted to see the best in him. but now you know. lesson learned.”

you nodded, though she couldn’t see it. “yeah.”

the ache in your chest flared again, and you sighed, pulling your knees to your chest. “i feel so stupid. i should’ve never gone.”

“you’re not stupid,” cleo said firmly. “you’re brave. most people wouldn’t have even given him a chance. and hey, at least you looked amazing. his loss, not yours.”

before you could respond, a sharp knock at the door startled you.

you frowned, glancing toward the front of your house. “who…?”

“who’s knocking at this hour?” cleo asked, her voice cautious.

“no idea,” you murmured, standing up. “hold on, i’ll check.”

yout heart thudded in your chest as you crossed the room, your phone still clutched in one hand. peeking through the peephole, your stomach dropped.

rafe.

he stood there, looking like an absolute mess. his clothes were rumpled, there was a scratch on his cheek, and he was clutching his motorcycle helmet in one hand. his expression was riddled with something you couldn’t quite place—was it guilt? desperation?

“is it him?” cleo’s voice came through the phone.

you swallowed hard, hesitating.

“Yeah,” you whispered.

“don’t let him in,” she said immediately. “i swear, if he tries to sweet-talk you—”

but you’d already unlocked the door.

as it creaked open, rafe’s head snapped up, his blue eyes meeting yours. he looked… wrecked.

“hey,” he said softly, his voice rasping.

you just stared at him, unsure whether you were angry, confused, or on the verge of tears again.

“what are you doing here, Rafe?”

“i—i screwed up,” he stammered, his words tumbling out. “can i—can i please explain?”

you kept the door open just a crack, leaning against the frame, your phone still pressed to your ear. cleo’s voice came through, sharp and protective.

“is he still there?”

you glanced at rafe, who shifted awkwardly, running a hand through his messy hair. his gaze darted to you, then down to the ground, like he couldn’t quite meet your eyes.

“yeah,” you murmured.

“listen to me,” cleo said firmly. “if he even tries to make some lame excuse, slam the door in his face. and text me how it goes, okay?”

you hesitated, glancing at rafe again. something about the way he stood there, looking almost… broken, softened the edge of your anger.

“okay,” you said quietly. “i’ll call you later.”

“don’t let him off easy, babe” cleo added before hanging up.

you slipped your phone into your pocket and crossed your arms, leaning against the door. “why are you here, rafe?”

he flinched at the coldness in your tone, his jaw tightening. “i—i had to come explain. please, just—can you give me a second?”

you raised an eyebrow, your skepticism clear. “explain? what’s there to explain? you stood me up.”

“no, i didn’t mean to,” he blurted out, his voice desperate. “i swear, i wanted to be there. i was on my way, but—”

“are you seriously lying right now?” you interrupted, your voice sharp. “because if this is your idea of damage control, it’s not working.”

“i’m not lying!” he said quickly, his words tumbling out so fast they almost tripped over each other. “i was driving to the restaurant, and some guy rear-ended me. out of nowhere. my car’s totaled, my phone died, and i—God, i didn’t know what to do.”

you stared at him, your anger faltering slightly at the sincerity in his voice. his hands were trembling, and he looked genuinely distraught.

“look,” he continued, taking a step closer. “i swear to you, i wanted to show up. i’d been looking forward to tonight for weeks. but after the crash, i couldn’t call anyone, and by the time i figured out a way to get here, it was too late.” he gestured vaguely to his motorcycle helmet.

“so i got my bike and came straight here.”

you studied his face, searching for any hint of dishonesty. Instead, you found something else—shame, regret, and a deep, unshakable sincerity.

“why didn’t you just go to the restaurant?” you asked quietly.

“i… i was afraid you wouldn’t be there anymore,” he admitted, his voice cracking. “and honestly, i felt like i’d already ruined everything. but i couldn’t just leave it like that. i had to see you, even if you slammed the door in my face.”

your heart twisted despite yourself. the frustration was still there, but it was tangled with something softer now—an ache you didn’t want to admit.

“so, you’re telling me you got in a car crash, lost your phone, and then scrambled to find a way to come apologize?”

he nodded earnestly. “yes. i know it sounds like some ridiculous excuse, but it’s the truth. i’m so sorry.”

you bit your lip, debating whether to believe him. every part of you wanted to cling to the anger and disappointment, to shove him out the door and lock the feelings away.

but the way he looked at you—like you were the most important person in the world—made it hard to hold on to the hurt.

“why didn’t you just say that in the first place?” you muttered.

rafe’s lips twitched into the faintest, nervous smile. “because i’m an idiot. and i was scared you wouldn’t believe me.”

you sighed, running a hand through your hair. “you’re right about one thing. you are an idiot.”

rafe winced but didn’t argue.

“fine,” you said finally, stepping back to let him inside. “but you’re explaining everything. and if i find out you’re lying—”

“i’m not,” he promised, his voice low and steady. “i’ll tell you everything. i swear.”

as he stepped inside, you closed the door behind him, your heart still racing. you weren’t sure where this was going, but for some reason, you weren’t ready to let him go just yet.

you crossed your arms as rafe stood awkwardly in your living room, helmet still clutched in his hand. the tension between you felt thick, but he looked so earnest, so desperate to make things right, that you found yourself willing to hear him out.

“so?” you prompted, raising an eyebrow. “start talking.”

rafe shifted his weight, glancing down before meeting your gaze again. “okay, um… so i was on my way to the restaurant,” he began, his voice low but steady. “i was already running late—i was trying to get there faster because i didn’t want to keep you waiting.”

you narrowed your eyes, not fully buying it yet. “and then what?”

“and then… some guy slammed into the back of my truck at a stoplight,” he said, frustration creeping into his tone. “it wasn’t anything major, but my truck’s bumper was a mess, and we had to pull over. the guy wanted to exchange insurance info, and i was trying to deal with all of that when i realized my phone had died.”

you watched him closely, searching for any sign that he might be making it up. but the scratch on his cheek, the way he kept fidgeting, and the genuine regret in his voice told you otherwise.

“i couldn’t call you or get a ride,” he continued, his words tumbling out now. “by the time i got everything sorted, it was too late to show up in my truck—it wouldn’t even start properly. so i went home, grabbed my bike, and came straight here. i didn’t want to leave things like that. i couldn’t.”

you stared at him, your anger softening despite your best efforts. “and why should i believe you?”

“because it’s the truth,” he said firmly, his blue eyes locking onto yours. “i swear, i’d never stand you up. i’ve been wanting this date for so long, and the thought of ruining it… i hated myself for it.”

he ran a hand through his hair, exhaling shakily. “i know i messed up, and i don’t blame you if you’re still mad. but i just wanted you to know that i wasn’t trying to hurt you. you mean too much to me for that.”

his words hit you harder than you expected, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. the sincerity in his voice, the way he was practically trembling with nerves—it was impossible to ignore.

finally, you sighed. “okay. i believe you.”

rafe’s shoulders sagged with relief, and he let out a breath like he’d been holding it the entire time. “thank you,” he murmured. “seriously. thank you.”

“but,” you added, holding up a finger, “you’re not off the hook completely. you still owe me a date.”

his face lit up, and for the first time that night, you saw the faintest hint of a smile. “i’ll make it up to you,” he promised, his voice soft but full of conviction.

“one hundred percent. no more making you come alone, no more waiting around for me—i’ll pick you up this time.”

you raised an eyebrow. “you mean that?”

“absolutely,” he said, stepping a little closer. “and, uh… i was thinking maybe i could make it extra special. like, i’ll pick you up on my bike, and we can ride out to the beach. watch the sunset. maybe grab some ice cream after?”

his words were tentative, like he was testing the waters, and you couldn’t help but feel the smallest tug at your heart.

“a motorcycle ride to the beach?” you repeated, pretending to think it over.

he nodded, his expression hopeful. “yeah. just you and me this time. I promise it’ll be perfect.”

you let the silence stretch for a moment, watching him squirm slightly. finally, you cracked a small smile. “okay. you’ve got one more chance.”

rafe’s face broke into a grin, the relief and happiness practically radiating off of him. “thank you,” he said softly. “you won’t regret it. i promise.”

“don’t make promises you can’t keep, cameron,” you teased, though your voice was light.

“i won’t,” he said firmly, his eyes shining. “not this time.”

for the first time that night, you let yourself believe him.

MASTERLIST

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[dinogoofymutated]

Okay, since requests are open, I wanted to ask for something, especially after seeing that you are comfortable with most male characters.

I present:

Scott Summers x fem!reader who's just a little too rebelious and annoying for his taste but he still can't help but love her? Like, enemies to lovers kind of style?

If you want to do a oneshot or headcanons is up to you, I'm just starving for Scott content.

Don't know, if you wanna do is, especially since he's not everyone's cup of tea, but I thought "hey, give it a try, maybe she wants to try someting different" so here I go

Anyway, love your work, you#re amazing <3

Cyclops/GN!Reader I've had this prompt saved in my drafts for SO LONG. Basically since the moment it came in!! I was so happy you sent this in bc i had been thinking about writing for Scott, but then I couldn't think of a good enough way to carry this out so I waited on it for a good bit until I had it down to a science!! Hope you enjoy!! Man, I started writing this and then realised I had to make a banner for him too 😭 I did this to myself tho Most of the characters I write for are written as combinations from different x-men media, but I'm still figuring out how I want to characterise Scott since he's a new character for me. Just wanted to put this out there in case I change how I write for him in future fics. (also, let me know how you feel about him in this one! Tell me if yall think I should tweak his attitude a bit :) ) Edit from the future: I started this draft so long ago and damn did it turn out long. TWs: Idk at the moment, will add if I think of any! Reader has a specific power that is kinda vague at first. I've written them out at the very bottom BUT if u read u will spoil the surprise of the fic so fair warning

Scott does not like you. At least, not anymore.

You've known each other for a long time, both coming to Xavier's school within weeks of each other. You used to be friends- or at least friendly. But as you both grew and learned more about yourselves and your powers, a gap began to form, and then continued to grow once both of you became members of the x-men.

It's not like he didn't notice your tendency for rebellious behavior before, but on the field? the two of you clashed more than ever. He's doing his best out here, and the last thing he needs as a leader is both you and Logan going out of your way to put yourselves in dangerous situations because you think you know better.

And the moment you get back to the mansion? You clash all over again- and over the dumbest things. You practically avoid him all of the time, refuse to spar with him unless you're forced, will scoot away from him if he has to sit next to you on game nights. It's like the very thought of brushing against him is enough to get under your skin.

The moment the blackbird lands, you should have known what to expect. But you're in such a good mood, with the mission having gone well despite all odds. Sure, you didn't exactly follow Cyclops' foolproof plan, but when did you ever?

Scott is standing at the end of the ramp when the doors open, watching with a rather sour look on his face as you laugh with Jubilee, the others trailing shortly behind. He crosses his arms, and you barely stop short of him, acting like you had never seen him in the first place as you sigh, nodding at the others to go ahead before finally turning to him and crossing your own arms.

"Go ahead. Say your piece." You say. It only stokes the irritation in him, and he scowls.

"You can't go one, single mission and actually listen to what I say, can you?" He snaps. You roll your eyes, knowing that if he had it his way, you'd never have gone on the mission at all. Still, you stand defiantly, unwilling to back down.

"Look, you weren't even there, you can't expect me to-"

"It would be different if I was there, but I wasn't." Scott interrupts you, and the aggravation it lights in you is practically all-consuming. You can't hold back your scowl. "You were the only senior member of the team on that plane, do you understand how detrimental it could have been if you had gotten hurt, or worse?!" Oh, what a load of horseshit. It's alway the boy scout schtick with him- I'm the leader, do what I say, If I was there none of this would have happened- what an asshole! Hell, in the second half you might have actually thought he was concerned for you and the team, but you knew better.

"Don't act like you actually give a damn, Summers." You snap. "Everyone is fine, no one got hurt, I don't see your problem." You're done with this. You're tired, sweaty, exhausted, and the last thing you want to be doing right now is talking with him. You knock shoulders with him as you brush past, but he reaches out and grabs you by the arm. You feel a mix of strong emotions- anger, concern, frustration- and thoughts swim in your head, before snatching your arm away from him like you'd been burned. He pauses for a second as you whip around and look at him, a rage in your eyes. He still looks at you with that stupid, stubborn look on his face.

"I get that you think I'm just some stuck-up asshole, but there's a reason I get angry when you do something reckless." His voice has lost the smallest a bit of fire. You scoff at him immediately, before turning away to storm out.

"Eat shit."

So no. things weren't exactly cool between you two.

It's not like you weren't friends at some point though, back when you were kids. You didn't know what happened to cause this rift, but he only really thought of you as some reckless idiot as of late, and you didn't care to learn anything else about what was going on in his brain.

Unfortunately, that didn't mean you could avoid him forever. Not when the both of you are on a team.

You only realise how much pain you're in when the blackbird's autopilot clicks on. Your suit was scuffed and worn in some areas, starting to burn at the edges of your sleeves as the protective coating started to wear away. You noticed it in the midst of battle, trying to focus on manipulating debri to a colder temperature rather than a hot one, but sometimes you can't afford to be picky in fights. Your suit may have been temperature resistant, but you were temperature invulnerable. Besides, heat did the most damage anyway.

You frown a bit at the sight of your burnt sleeves. Normally, you'd be worried that Hank would be mad at having to make a new suit again, but if anything you were sure he'd be grateful for the challenge of improving it. Scott was really the only one who would scold you for it, always coming back to the same arguments of being too reckless, ect, ect... and speaking of Scott, he was being awfully quiet right now.

The cockpit is empty exempt for the two of you, being the only two assigned to the mission. Scott is sat in the pilot's chair, and you can't really see much of him besides the top of his head. He's silent, and it makes you worried.

When you stand and walk. over to him, his face looks pained. You're sure his eyes are closed under his signature visor, his head leaning back limply in the chair, hair tussled. You furrow your eyebrows. You knew he'd be tired, but he's not usually this burned out.

"Scott? You alright?" You ask. he only hums in response. It's then when you realise what's wrong.

"Migraine?" You ask, and he hums in the affirmative. You wince at the thought. You knew he got migraines often, especially when using his mutation more than usual, and having migraines yourself, you knew he was hurting. You take a look at where the emergency aid box usually is, knowing it had painkillers, but the space is empty, and you sigh to yourself when you remember you used it on a local- Scott agreeing with you for once when you wanted to leave it with them for any more emergencies. You look back at Scott, and think for a moment more.

Scott jumps when you place a cold hand on his forehead, having settled your weight on the back of the chair behind him. It sparks a feeling of surprise.

"What are you doing?" Scott asks, and instead of his usual accusatory tone, he just sounds tired.

"Don't be a baby." You respond, chilling both hands and combing through his hair gently. Scott is confused as all hell. Why were you doing this? You go out of your way to avoid him at any cost, and then... this? What even was this?

But... he'd be lying if it didn't feel nice. Scott begins to relax underneath you as you continue to comb through his scalp, pressing gentle touches to his forehead as you do so. It's... it feels good.

"My mom used to do this when I was little." You say softly, after a long moment of silence. "Whenever I had a migraine, she'd run her hands under cold water for a long time, lay my head in her lap, and run her hands through my hair. The cold usually helped." Scott's shoulder's are sagging now, and he sighs every once in a while. Although he doesn't say anything, you don't need to ask. There's a question beginning to brim, but you answer it before he can even speak- saving him the effort of talking in the midst of his pain.

"...And it just felt nice to feel her play with my hair, I guess. 'figured it might help you, too."

You try not to dwell on whatever thoughts begin to swirl after that.

It's hard to tell when things shift after that. Even harder for Scott to understand why.

Eventually you go from avoiding him at any given chance, stiff and petty with your actions, to casual. Not quite friendly, but almost.

"And... Right hand red!" Jubilee calls from the couch, having entirely too much fun for someone who isn't even playing this game. Everyone who's already lost has dispersed, either playing a different game or having good conversation. The game of twister had started with four? Maybe five of you? But at the moment, it was just down to you and Scott. -The two of you being way too competitive to let the other win. At the moment, both of you were in a bit of a strange position, with Scott managing to crawl over you at some point. Aside from that, the game had been going on for uncomfortably long- long enough for the pizza to get here.

The doorbell rings and it's pretty instantaneous when people start to flock to the kitchen for the feast, Jubilee included. There's a flicker of panic in both of you as she quickly leaves.

"Hey!-"

"Jubilee! Wait!"

"You'll be fine, you big babies!" She calls out, giggling in her pursuit of the cheesy goodness. That just leaves you and Scott on the matt, pressed together in some places and a but uncomfortable, but awkwardly? Still competeting.

"God, that pizza smells good." Scott groans from above you, the smell of food becoming more and more tempting. You think about it, for a half a second maybe, but that competitive little devil on your shoulder gets to you before your stomach can.

"You know what? why don't you go ahead and grab a piece!" You say, causing Scott to cock an eyebrow at you.

"What, and let you win? Not a chance." He huffs. You shrug best you can, it was worth a shot! Neither of you were going to budge any time soon, determined not to let the other win. But the longer you stayed pressed together...

It's not like you hadn't noticed how handsome Scott was. Hell, who wouldn't? Even Logan isn't immune to his good looks, but obviously you weren't going to be... wierd, about it. You're just playing a game, right? But the sight of him above you, slightly flushed, shifting every once in a while while keeping his balance? It was... tempting.

It doesn't take long for other thoughts to begin swimming around, worming their way into your mind. The two of you in various states of undress... gasping, gripping onto one another... marks on his neck, your lips swollen and stained by the lipstick your wearing tonight.

Each and every thought leaves you more flustered than before, slipping on the plastic mat and accidentally knocking into one of Scott's weight bearing arms and sending the two of you colliding into the floor. You hear Scott let out a noise of pain and you're not down there for long before you shove him off of you, face burning as you grumble about his win. You stalk off without much fanfare, leaving Scott a bit befuddled.

"What was that all about?"

But regardless of how aggravated you made eachother sometimes, everyone has their breaking point...

You're surprised when Scott kisses you in the hall some weeks later, less than a second after a heated spat started to take a bit of a turn, but to be honest? You were into it.

His lips are soft, if a little chapped, heated kisses full of force and urgency before they soften just a little. You kiss him back in a similar manner his hands falling to your waist as you grab him by the collar and pull him even closer. You're quick to start moving the two of you backwards fumbling for a closet door you could have sworn was right... there.

As soon as the door swings open, you pull him inside, pushing him against the wall once it closes again and cupping the back of his neck as you pull him into another kiss. An unfamiliar feeling of warmth shoots through you as you do, and you almost giggle as his thoughts start to flood with more and more tempting situations for the two of you to be in.

After each and every dirty thought he has, you start to wonder if he even remembered your touch telepathy after having known you for so long- but hell, even if he didn't, you weren't complaining.

If u made it this far, I wanna give u details about the Reader's powers some more!! Specifically, the powers are temperature manipulation/temperature invulnerability/touch telepathy! They get a bit complicated bc reader can't light shit on fire or make ice out of the air, but they can melt shit and freeze existing water though! As long as reader touches it in some way! Due to this they're invulnerable to heat/cold for obvious reasons. Touch telepathy was added bc i love mutations with unnecessary layers (Emma frost) and... u really think I was gonna let scott get away without banging another telepath? wrONG

[daryltwdixon]

I want to give Joel Miller a lap dance. Feel his hands all over my body as I grind into him and he moans my name. He'll be begging to be inside me and I'll finally give in and ride him until he fills me up with his cum. That's it. That's the request. (Jesus, it's suddenly hot in here, huh?)

Joel x Reader Happy Birthday

warnings: straight smut MDNI

I listened to I See Red by Everybody Loves an Outlaw while writing

a/n: oh, anon. you did something to me here. I've been thinking about it all day. I took it in a slightly different direction but anyway. another note: I am not the kinda woman who gives lap dances, so this could actually be terrible. enjoy x

It started with the heels. Those fucking heels. You couldn’t say no to them. They were just sitting there on a shelf in the middle of a patrol gone sideways, taunting you.

A rainstorm had hit mid-September in Wyoming, and you and your patrol partner had taken refuge in an old strip mall. The clothing store you holed up in was mostly picked over, but there were still odds and ends for the community back in Jackson—stuff to stock the closet for kids and newcomers.

And then there were the heels. Black, shiny, the kind of tall that bordered on dangerous. They might’ve been ridiculous for patrol, but god, you’d always loved how they looked in those pre-outbreak magazines. The kind of shoes that made women look powerful and untouchable. So, with a “fuck it” shrug, you’d stuffed them into your backpack and thought, Joel’s birthday is coming up anyway.

The idea had snowballed from there. You’d scavenged through the library’s dusty stock of CDs and hit the jackpot: the perfect song. The rest fell into place, one piece at a time, until tonight. Now here you were, standing in front of the mirror, nerves simmering under the surface as you took in your reflection.

The heels did exactly what you’d imagined, making your legs look miles long. The black lace panties you’d picked weren’t the practical kind you usually wore—these were high-cut, with delicate details that felt scandalous against your skin. The bralette matched, sheer enough to leave almost nothing to the imagination, with just enough wire to push your breasts up like a dare. You swallowed hard, heat pooling low in your belly.

To steady yourself, you grabbed one of Joel’s plaid shirts from the bed and slipped it on. The soft, worn fabric still smelled like him—earthy, warm, familiar. The contrast between the shirt and what was underneath made your pulse quicken. It was the anticipation, the audacity of what you were about to do, that left you breathless.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you moved to the living area. Dragging one of the armless chairs from the kitchen table, you placed it squarely in the middle of the room. The boombox was already prepped, the song queued up and ready. With one last deep breath, you perched on the chair and waited.

Waited for Joel to walk through the door.

Joel trudged up the porch steps, every bone in his body aching from patrol. It had been a long one, the kind that left him bone-weary and ready to drop. He pushed the door open, boots heavy against the floor as he shrugged out of his jacket.

“Hey,” he called over his shoulder, voice low and gruff, more out of habit than effort. He didn’t look up, his focus on loosening the laces of his boots, mind already wandering to the promise of a hot shower and a quiet night.

“Happy birthday, handsome.”

Your voice stopped him mid-motion. Warm, teasing, the kind of sound that made him glance up without thinking. He froze, the boot in his hand forgotten as his brain struggled to catch up with what he was seeing.

You were sitting in the middle of the living room, legs crossed like you had all the time in the world. And yet it wasn’t just you sitting there—it was everything else. The heels. The shirt—his shirt—hanging loose over your frame, barely buttoned, leaving enough undone to make his pulse stutter. His eyes followed the long line of your legs, the curve of your thighs, and those damn heels. Shiny, black and undeniably sexy. And then his eyes trailed up, stopping at the curve of her neck, her collarbones, the delicate lace peeking through.

Joel’s throat went dry. He blinked once, then again, like maybe he was seeing things. But no, you were real. You were there. And goddamn, you looked like that.

“What...what’s all this, baby?” he managed, his voice rougher than usual, the words scraping out like he barely had the strength to speak.

You tilted your head, playful and soft all at once, and he hated how it made him feel—off-kilter, like you had all the control in the room. “I told you,” you said, your voice light, teasing but edged with something else. “Happy birthday.”

Joel’s gaze stayed locked on you, his boots still half-off, his body halfway between exhaustion and something else entirely. He shook his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips despite himself. “Darlin’, you didn’t have to do all this.” His voice was low, a teasing edge there, but the heat behind his words was undeniable.

You felt your stomach flip, but you held your ground, stepping closer to him until your hands rested gently on his chest. His warmth seeped through the fabric of his shirt, the steady rise and fall of his breath grounding you even as your own felt unsteady.

“I know,” you murmured, your tone soft but steady. “But I wanted to. And you deserve it.”

Joel’s smirk deepened, his hands instinctively finding your hips, rough fingers grazing the fabric of his shirt draped over you. “You sure about that? ‘Cause all I’m thinkin’ is takin’ you straight to our room and thankin’ you proper.”

His words sent a flush of heat through you, but you held firm, giving his chest a gentle push. “Not yet,” you said, a teasing glint in your eyes. “Sit down,.”

He raised a brow, his grip on your hips tightening just enough to let you know he wasn’t fully on board. “Darlin’, I’m not exactly in the mood to—”

You pressed your palms more firmly against him, your voice dropping to a whisper. “Sit, Joel.”

The quiet authority in your tone made his resistance falter. He let out a low chuckle, more breath than sound, and leaned back, allowing you to guide him into the chair. His knees spread as he settled in, his arms resting loosely on his thighs, but his eyes never left you.

“One rule,” you said softly, holding up a finger. You sauntered over to the boombox that had been waiting on the side table, taking your finger and hovering over ‘play’. 

“No touching.”

And then the music started.

Your heart was in your throat by now, pounding in time with the heavy thrum of anticipation in your veins. Each deliberate sway of your hips felt like a challenge, and Joel’s eyes tracked every movement as you took slow, pointed steps toward him.

When you reached him, you placed your hands on his knees, leaning down just enough to let the hem of his plaid shirt ride up slightly. You arched your back, pushing your hips out and rolling them in a way that made the lace of your bra peek tantalizingly through the gap in the shirt. His eyes were locked on you, dark and intent, and when you glanced up, you caught him biting his lip, his gaze riveted to the skin you’d left exposed, as though he was imagining how it might feel under his hands.

With every movement, you swung your hips, each roll precise and deliberate. Your hands slid up to your hair, combing through it as you turned your back on him, walking a few slow, teasing steps away. Your hips dipped low with each step, your movements fluid, your intention clear. When you turned back to face him, your fingers found the buttons of his shirt still hanging off your shoulders. You began to undo them one by one, each step bringing you closer to him until the last button came undone.

The shirt slid from your shoulders, pooling at your feet. You kicked it aside, standing before him in nothing but the black lace he was now openly staring at. Joel’s pupils had blown wide, his chest rising and falling with barely restrained tension. He leaned back in the chair, his arms locking behind his head, biceps flexing as though he was physically restraining himself from reaching out. For now, at least, he seemed willing to play along with your game.

Turning around, you hovered just above his lap, bending forward as you rolled your hips, letting your ass dip and brush teasingly against his legs. Your hands trailed over your own body, mapping the curve of your waist and hips as you moved. The heat of his gaze burned into your skin, and you smiled to yourself before finally lowering onto his lap, spreading your legs as you settled against him.

You leaned back slightly, letting your ass press firmly against him, and you felt it—the undeniable hardness straining against his jeans. Your heart quickened, and a teasing smile curved your lips as you glanced over your shoulder at him. His jaw was tight, his teeth clenched, his dark eyes fixed on the way you moved against him.

Joel let out a low, guttural sound as you bent forward, tracing your hands along the floor, your body folding in half over him. His hips bucked up against you then, a reflex he couldn’t seem to control, and you smirked, slipping to the floor and crawling forward on your knees until you turned to face him.

Sliding your hands onto his knees, your eyes met his as he finally spoke, his voice rough, edged with tension. “Oh, so you can touch me, huh?”

“Obviously,” you murmured, the smirk on your lips daring him as your hands trailed up his thighs. He sucked in a sharp breath, his arms still locked behind his head as though anchoring himself, but his hips twitched up toward your touch. Your hands slid higher, over his chest, as you pulled yourself back into his lap, facing him chest to chest.

Your hands slid to your hips as you rolled against him, each movement slow, deliberate, and purposeful. You thought of all the ways he’d gone crazy for you before, the rhythm that always left him undone when you rode his cock, and you worked it now with an extra swivel, a teasing twist to your hips.

“You’re a nasty little thing, baby,” he muttered, his voice thick and gravelly, like he was speaking through clenched teeth. His eyes zeroed in on the straps of your bra as they slid down your shoulders with every roll of your body. The hunger in his gaze made your stomach flip, and you could almost feel the weight of his restraint, like he was moments away from tearing the lace off you with his teeth.

A soft whimper escaped your lips as you ground harder against him, unable to ignore the growing wetness between your thighs or the way your body clenched around nothing. You pushed against his denim-clad hard-on, slow and deliberate, and watched as his eyes squeezed shut, his head tipping back as though he was holding on by a thread.

Sliding your hands up to his neck and then down to flatten against his chest, you leaned closer, wanting to kiss him so fucking bad, but keeping yourself away. If you kissed him, your resistance would falter, and there’d be no going back.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, his head tipping back slightly, his neck arching into your touch as though chasing the warmth of your hands. His breath was shallow now, his chest rising and falling beneath your palms as the tension between you thickened, taut and electric.

You barely catch him breathing your name, a whimper, before he was begging, “Please,”

“Please what, Joel?” you whispered back, teasing, even though your own restraint was slipping. You stood then, turning away from him slowly, your hips swaying in time with his ragged breaths. Bending over, you slid your fingers to the waistband of your lace panties, tugging them just enough to reveal a hint of bare skin, only to let them snap back into place.

His head snapped up, his eyes glued to your hands. “I need—” His voice broke, and he dragged his hands down his thighs, rubbing them as though desperate to release some of the tension coiling in his body. “I need to feel you, baby. Please.”

You looked over your shoulder, your lips curling into a soft smile. “Not yet,” you said, your voice low and teasing as you turned back toward him. You lowered yourself into his lap again, back to his chest and your movements slow, deliberate, savoring every inch of contact as you rolled against him.

Joel groaned again, the sound rough and primal, his hands still locked behind his head as though holding onto the last shred of control. You pressed harder against him, rolling your hips deliberately, savoring the friction of his rock hard cock beneath you. The sensation sent a jolt straight through you, and before you could stop yourself, a soft, breathless moan slipped from your lips.

That was all it took.

Joel’s restraint snapped. His arms moved like lightning, one snaking around your waist, pulling you flush against him, while the other slid up, his large, calloused hand curling around the side of your neck. His grip wasn’t tight, just firm enough to hold you in place, to make you feel completely surrounded by him.

“Breakin’ your own rules, huh?” His voice was a low rasp in your ear, thick with desire and edged with the kind of authority that made heat flood through your entire body. His scruff brushed against the curve of your jaw, tickling and scraping in a way that sent sparks down your spine, every nerve alight. “Makin’ all those damn rules and can’t even follow ‘em yourself.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine as his lips barely grazed the shell of your ear. “You want me to be patient,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin, “but here you are, grindin’ on me, moanin’ like you’re beggin’ me to lose control.”

Your breath hitched, your hands instinctively flying to his forearm where it rested against your neck. His grip didn’t falter, holding you there as his hips shifted beneath you, just enough to press his hardness firmly against your core. The sound that escaped your lips this time was a mix of surprise and need, and it only made his hold tighten.

“You feel that?” he growled, his lips brushing your ear again, the rasp of his voice sending waves of heat through you. “That’s what you do to me, baby. You keep teasin’ me, and I’m gonna give you exactly what you’re askin’ for.”

Before you could respond, his grip on your neck shifted slightly, firm but careful, his other hand trailing up from your waist. “Now let’s see what you’ve been hidin’ from me here, huh?” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous in your ear.

His fingers found the lace of your bra, tugging it down until your breasts spilled free. The sound that rumbled from his chest was almost feral, a deep growl that made heat pool low in your belly. He cupped one of your breasts in his hand, the warmth of his palm making you arch into his touch. His thumb brushed over your nipple, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure through you before he pinched and rolled it between his fingers.

You gasped, your back arching further into him, but he wasn’t done. He brought the same hand to your other breast, the calloused pads of his fingers rough against your sensitive skin. He squeezed gently, then let his palm deliver a quick, stinging slap that made you jolt in his lap.

“Fuck,” you whimpered, the sound barely audible over the pounding of your heart. The sting melted into warmth, the sensation sharp and thrilling, and you couldn’t help but roll your hips harder against him, desperate for more.

Joel’s lips found the side of your neck, brushing hot, open-mouthed kisses against your skin. “That’s it,” he growled, his voice rough with need as his hands continued to explore you, alternating between firm, teasing squeezes and sharp, delicious slaps. “Let me hear those pretty noises. Don’t hold back now.”

The way he rolled and teased your nipples made your head tip back against his shoulder, a soft moan spilling from your lips as his mouth found the curve of your neck. His teeth scraped lightly against your skin, making your nerves spark, your hips bucking in his lap.

“You’re so damn sensitive,” he rasped against your neck, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine. His hands trailed lower, brushing over your ribs, fingertips grazing your stomach as they worked their way to the waistband of your panties. “Been drivin’ me crazy all night, wearin’ this...all for me, huh?”

You could only nod, your voice caught somewhere between a gasp and a plea. Joel chuckled low in your ear, the sound rough and teasing, as he hooked his thumbs under the delicate lace and tugged it downward, inch by inch, exposing you to the cool air and his burning gaze.

“Use your words pretty girl,” he muttered, his voice full of reverence and something darker, more primal. He shifted beneath you, one hand returning to your waist to hold you steady as the other worked the panties down past your thighs.

“All yours, Joel. I’m yours.” you breathed, hips rolling as his hands worked the fabric slip past your knees, pooling on the floor as his hands returned to your bare skin. He traced the curve of your thighs and pulled them open wider across his lap. The heat of him pressed against your core, and the rough denim only heightened the aching need coursing through you.

“Joel,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you gripped his forearms, trying to steady yourself.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he murmured, his hands steady and warm as they explored the newly exposed skin. His fingers slid up your inner thighs, deliberate and slow, brushing so close to where you needed him most but never quite touching. The tease was unbearable, your hips shifting instinctively to chase his touch.

“Not so fast,” he growled, his grip tightening on your thighs to hold you still. “You wanted to take your time, didn’t you? You’re gonna sit here and feel every second of this.”

His words made your breath hitch, the commanding edge in his voice sending another wave of heat pooling low in your belly. His hands trailed higher, his fingertips brushing just shy of your center, so close you could feel the heat of his touch but not the pressure you craved.

“Please,” you whimpered, arching back against him, your body practically trembling in his grasp.

“Patience, darlin’,” he said, his lips brushing against your ear again, his voice nothing more than a rough whisper. “I’m gonna take my time with you. Gonna make sure you feel all of it.”

Joel’s hands finally slid higher, his rough fingertips ghosting over the slick heat between your thighs. The barest touch sent a shiver through you, your body instinctively arching into him, desperate for more. He hummed low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your neck as his lips brushed over your skin.

“So wet for me,” he murmured, his voice a gravelly whisper. His fingers parted your lips slowly, exploring with a deliberate tenderness that made all the breath in your lungs tighten. “Could feel this pussy on me the whole time. Makin’ a mess of me.”

You whimpered, your hands gripping his forearms as his touch grew more confident, circling your most sensitive spot with slow, teasing precision. The pressure was just enough to send sparks shooting through you, your hips rocking into his hand as your breath hitched.

“Easy now, baby” he growled, his other arm tightening around your waist to hold you steady against him. “Daddy’s gon’ take good care of ya.”

He pressed a finger inside you, slow and deliberate, his thick, calloused touch stretching you just enough to make your head fall back against his shoulder. A low moan escaped your lips, your body trembling as he began to move, each stroke deliberate and unhurried.

“Look at you,” he muttered, his voice full of awe as he watched the way you writhed in his lap. “So beautiful, baby. You feel how good you’re takin’ me?”

You nodded, your words lost to the pleasure building deep inside you. He added another finger, the stretch making your toes curl as his pace quickened just slightly. His thumb brushed against your clit with every stroke, drawing a strangled moan from your throat as the tension in your belly coiled tighter.

Joel’s lips found the shell of your ear, his breath hot and heavy. “That’s it,” he rasped, his voice thick with desire. “Let go, darlin’. Let me feel this pretty pussy,”

His words sent you over the edge, the pressure finally snapping as your body tensed, waves of pleasure crashing through you. You cried out his name, your hands clutching at his arms as he worked you through it, his fingers moving steadily, drawing out every last ounce of pleasure until you were left trembling in his lap, boneless and breathless.

He finally slowed, his movements gentle as he eased his fingers from you, his arm still holding you close. He pressed a soft kiss to the side of your neck, his voice softer now but no less heated. “Good girl,” he murmured, his tone full of pride and affection.

Joel’s lips lingered on your neck, his breath still warm against your skin as his hand slid back to your waist, grounding you. The tension between you was electric, your body still trembling in the aftermath of his touch, but the need hadn’t faded—it had only sharpened.

You shifted in his lap, the friction of his jeans against your sensitive skin making you gasp softly. His grip tightened on your hips, steadying you as his lips brushed your ear. “What’re you doin’, darlin’?” he murmured, though his voice was rough, and his hips twitched up into you despite the question.

You turned slightly, your lips curling into a teasing smile as you met his dark, hungry gaze. “Taking care of you now,” you whispered, your hands finding his chest as you pushed yourself upright.

Joel’s eyes followed your every movement as you reached for the button of his jeans, your fingers working with deliberate slowness, savoring the way his jaw clenched and his chest heaved beneath your touch. When you finally slid the zipper down, the strained fabric gave way, and you couldn’t help the way you always were caught by surprise as his thick hardness sprang free, hot and heavy in your hand.

He groaned low in his throat as you wrapped your fingers around him, giving him a slow stroke that had his head tipping back against the chair. “Christ,” he muttered, his hands gripping your thighs, his voice rough and unsteady. “You’re gonna kill me, baby.”

You smiled, a mix of nerves and confidence swirling in your chest as you lifted yourself onto your knees, positioning yourself over him. His hands moved instinctively to your hips, guiding you, steadying you as you lined yourself up. The heat of him pressed against you, and you bit your lip, slowly sinking down until he filled you completely. You’d never get used to his size, the sheer stretch of him.

Both of you let out matching groans, the sensation overwhelming as you adjusted to him. Joel’s hands tightened on your hips, his grip firm but reverent, as though he was trying to hold himself back from taking every inch he wanted.

“Fuck, baby,” he rasped, his voice low and wrecked. “Always so fuckin’ good for me. So tight.”

You braced your hands on his chest, your breath hitching as you began to move. Slowly at first, rocking your hips in a rhythm that had his fingers digging into your skin. The way he stretched and filled you sent shivers through your body, and you couldn’t help the soft moans that spilled from your lips.

Joel’s eyes were locked on you, dark and intense as he watched every roll of your hips. You leaned forward, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered, “Feel good, daddy?”

“Fuck yes,” he growled, his hips bucking up to meet your movements. “Don’t stop, baby. Don’t you fuckin’ stop.”

You didn’t. You rode him harder, the friction and fullness building to a crescendo that had your breath coming in ragged gasps. Joel was unraveling beneath you, his groans and growls spurring you on as you chased the pleasure coiling tight in your belly.

His hands slid from your hips, one trailing up your back to steady you, while the other moved with purpose, his palm curling around the side of your neck. The pressure was firm, his fingers pressing into your skin just enough to make your breath catch, the sensation sending a sharp jolt of heat straight through you, making you clench around him.

“Fuck,” you gasped, your movements faltering for just a moment before the delicious contrast between his grip and the fullness of him inside you pushed you further. Joel’s dark eyes burned into yours, his expression one of pure control, his lips curling in a low growl.

“You like that, huh?” he rasped, his voice rough and commanding as his thumb brushed lightly over your throat. “Your pussy sure seems to like it, hunny–clenching around me like a fuckin’ vice with my hand around your pretty throat.”

You whimpered, nodding as the tension in your body coiled tighter. His grip tightened slightly, not enough to hurt but enough to remind you of his strength, enough to make you feel completely at his mercy.

“That’s it,” Joel murmured, his hips bucking up into you as you moved faster, harder, chasing the fire building between you. “Take what you need, baby. Let me hear you.”

The intensity of his hand on your neck, the way he filled you completely with every thrust, and the heat of his gaze locking you in place—all of it came together in a rush of overwhelming pleasure. The tension snapped, and you cried out his name, your body trembling as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over you.

Joel groaned, his own release hitting him as your body clenched around him. His hand remained on your neck, holding you steady as his other hand gripped your hip, anchoring you to him. His voice was low and broken as he growled your name, his body shuddering beneath yours.

As the last tremors faded, his grip softened, the hand around your neck sliding up to cradle your face. His thumb brushed tenderly over your cheek, a stark contrast to the raw passion of moments before. You collapsed against him, your breaths uneven, your heart still racing as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence filled with only the sound of your ragged breathing and the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear.

Then you tilted your head slightly, pressing a soft kiss to his collarbone before murmuring, “So, a good birthday then?”

His chest rumbled with a quiet laugh, his hand cupping the back of your head as he kissed your temple. “Best damn birthday I’ve ever had, darlin’.”

[gh0stsp1d3r]

-MAYBANKS SISTER

part 4, chapter 5- anytime

WARNINGS: mentions of drinking, mentions of daddy issues

SUMMARY: ding dong, Wes is dead. The cops question all of you about his death as soon as you pull up to goat island, and an odd encounter with Groff has you all feeling uneasy

Previous chapter | Series Masterlist

So, you had a million different problems in your life at the moment.

Rafe was blowing up your phone, you could feel it buzzing in the pockets of your pants. Messages asking about where you were, how he was worried, etcetera.

Your brother was currently in the hospital, sick with the literal nitrogen bubbles in his blood, you feeling completely helpless in that aspect.

You had listened to the voicemail your dad had left over 10 times now- you memorized each word at this point. It cut off before he could say anything meaningful- and you wanted to know what he had to say to you, what was so important that he had to call you? After all this time?

And now, as soon as you got onto goat island, you were all thrown into another situation.

“If these people are willing to kill for this amulet, I wonder how much it’s worth.” Pope pondered, his hands on the wheel of the boat.

“We should show him the piece and then just throw out a price.” You replied, a small grin on your face.

“A million dollars.” Sarah added.

“I like it.”

“Go big. My dad taught me that.”

“Wait a minute. What the hell? Is that Shoupe?” Pope mumbled, looking at the boats on the dock.

“No. Nope. We’re gonna turn around.” John B spoke, you looking over your shoulder.

“Don’t.” Pope replied.

“Oh shit.” You grumbled.

“What? Pope, no, you don’t voluntarily go towards cops.”

“I agree with John b. Let’s book it before he even notices it’s us.” You spoke. “I can’t end up with another charge or my future is literally done for.”

“I agree. It’s too risky.”

“If we run now, we trigger the chase mechanism. Just stay the course.”

You groaned out in annoyance. “Fuck.”

“Okay, okay.” John B hesitantly agreed, everyone hiding everything and you glancing at your phone when it buzzed again.

rafe 🚩

Hey, call me when you can, please. I’m worried about you.

“And here he comes.” You murmured, watching him step closer to the edge of the dock, giving you all a small wave. You pocketed your phone again, shaking your head to yourself.

“Not scared of cops.”

“We didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I didn’t.”

“Well, I did.” You replied.

“There they are!” Shoupe shouted out, calling over his partner.

“Shoupe.” Pope waved.

Shoupe chuckled, “Great treasure hunters.”

“Yeah…”

“Bring it on in, toss the line.” The sheriff said, you standing up and tossing it to him.

“Oh, lucky me. I was just coming to see ya.” He said while trying the line, you furrowing your eyebrows.

“Oh, yeah? Why, uh…. Why would you come see us, Shoupe?” John B asked.

“You know, uh, the old guy who lives here? Who you talked to yesterday?”

“Yeah…”

“Okay. So you did talk to him?”

Cleo looked at pope, and so did you. She rolled her eyes and sucked her teeth in.

“Yeah, glad you confirmed that. Well, that old guy is up there… dead. And except for his son in law, you were the last ones to see him.”

You all looked back at each other, confused.

“I’m sorry? Repeat?” You were the first to speak.

He turned to you, “He’s dead, Maybank. And you guys were the last people here.”

“…Shit. Yeah, that’s what I thought you said. Just had to… make sure.” You nodded.

“The curse?” Sarah whispered.

You turned to her, shrugging. “He was just really old, too.” You whispered back.

“So, um, y’all ain’t going anywhere.”

You guys inched closer to the dock, now. Standing in front of Shoupe. “We got a lot to talk about.”

You were once again led inside the house, walking through narrow and dimly lit hallways into the room.

You were all questioned and grilled by the man, until finally it was your turn.

“Why is it that every time something happens, you are there…?” He asked with a sigh.

“Wrong timing at the wrong time, sheriff. I’m like a legend at that. Plus, ever since I started hanging out with these… fuckers, I can say that I’ve gotten in more trouble than ever.”

“You’re just always with an odd crowd, aren’t you?”

You shrugged, leaning back in the couch. “Are you just gonna ask me about my record all day or are you actually gonna question me?”

Your phones began to ring again, both you and him glancing at it sitting next to you. You glanced at Shoupe, him nodding his head towards the object.

“Go ‘head.”

You looked down at the screen, seeing that it was Rafe, again. You declined the call, before looking at your notifications.

“That’s an awful lot of notifications.” He chuckled from where he sat, you turning off your phone and shaking your head.

“That’s not your business.”

“I could take a couple guesses who it is.”

“Well, be my guest. If you wanna waste my questioning time guessing who is blowing up my phone, go right ahead.”

The both of you always had a playful relationship. Maybe it’s because he felt pity for you, after the entire situation with your dad.

Ever since you were young and he was a rookie cop, he always found himself back at the Maybank residence.

He always had a bit of a soft spot for you and JJ. He’s seen everything that’s gone on since you were a kid. The domestic cases, the constant noise complaints, the drugs, the addiction, all of it.

And while, sure, you hadn’t been the best kid, always getting wound up in some sort of fight or into some petty theft, he knew that it was only because you knew nothing else. You knew nothing outside of that life.

“Right, right. Well, let me start asking the real questions. Where were you last night…?”

“Well… let’s just say I… you know,” you spoke suggestively, pursing your lips together. “At a friends.”

“Would this friend happen to be…” he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “A certain Cameron?” He spoke rather quietly, thankfully, quiet enough to where the others didn’t hear.

“Maybe.” You shrugged your shoulders with a smirk.

You’d have to tell Rafe to cover for you. You knew he would. He felt like he owed you.

“And where is your brother?”

You pursed your lips, “Honestly, Shoupe, me and him had a bit of an argument… I haven’t seen him since we last met up here.” You lied, him furrowing his eyebrows, not quite sure if he believed it.

“Alright…” he nodded. “Why were you at the Genrettes, anyways?”

“He hired us. And then we came here.”

“Hired you for what?”

“Don’t know. He was talking about something, like a necklace thing. And he thought he was cursed-“

“Cursed?”

“I don’t know. He just said he was cursed.”

“And you believe it?” He asked.

“Listen, I may be a little off my rocker, but even that is too crazy for me.” You replied.

“If we found the amulet, we broke the curse. And he was gonna pay us like a shit ton of money to find it. You know how useful that would be to me? Shit, man. It would have been nice.” You continued.

He paused, taking a glance at you at the mention of money.

“How are y’all holding up?” He spoke rather quietly as he referred to you and your brother.

You looked up at him now, a small scoff escaping you. “Doing as well as we can, I guess. You know, I never expected to still be living with my brother when I was 22 but… here I am.”

He gave a slight nodded, looking down at the notepad again, skimming through the pages before looking back up at all of you with a sigh.

“That was a close call. Being around cops makes me nervous.” Cleo spoke as you all walked down the stairs.

“Being around cops makes me wanna punch one.” You replied.

“Oh, shit, he’s right behind us.” Sarah murmured to the both of you, you glancing behind you and shrugging.

“Shh. Quiet. Sorry.”

“Now make sure you don’t wander too far now, you hear?” He called out to all of you, you rolling your eyes at the cop.

“Yes, sir.” Sarah replied, all of you walking away from the stairs.

“You guys gotta admit, that was weird.”

“I mean, do you think the curse he was talking about was real?” You pondered.

“I mean, is it murder if the killers dead?” Sarah asked.

“No. We’re not entertaining that. There’s no way this guy died… from what’s her face ghost, okay?” Pope replied to the both of you. “He probably just died from like, old people stuff.”

“Jesus,” you snorted, “you’re really starting to sound like Jay.”

Pope glared at you, you holding up your hands in defense.

You all began to walk into a shed when you came face to face with Groff, a sniffle escaping him. You all stood there, looking at him.

“Oh. Hey.”

“Hey.” Cleo replied to the man.

“We’re sorry to hear about your loss, Mr. Groff.” Sarah told him, a pitiful smile on her face.

“Thank you, Sarah. I appreciate it.” He smiled and gave her a nod, shuddering slightly. “It’s, um…” he let out a chuckle as he stood up. “It’s been a shock.” He turned to start walking, before pausing and turning back to the rest of you.

“I, uh… I know Wes made a deal with you. I intend to honor it. If you come up with anything, let me know.” He paused, “For Wes’s sake.” He said with a chuckle and a sharp inhale.

“We’ll let you know if we find anything.” Pope assured the man, Groff giving him a small smile.

“Please do.” He turned to walk out.

John B watched him walk away, pursing his lips together. “I’d like to get away from here.”

“Yeah, me too.” You mumbled, slapping the boy on the shoulder as you walked past him.

All of you piled onto the boat, you taking one last glance at the island to find a man, the servant, staring out at you all. It was creepy.

“Just when we thought it couldn’t get any weirder.”

“Yeah, the old man dies and Groff still wants the amulet? That’s… weird, ain’t it?” You questioned.

“What do you think, John B?”

“There’s a lot more going on that we don’t know about.”

“Well, it is breaking.”

“I had science, Pope.”

“You are a mad scientist.” John B murmured, sitting next to the boy. “Where did you learn how to do this?”

“Chemical reactions. Chemistry.”

“I was in chemistry.”

“We didn’t take the same chemistry.”

You let out a snort while Sarah chuckled.

“What..?”

Your phone rung once more, and you glanced down at it. John B turned to you now, Popes comment forgotten.

“Okay, your phone has been ringing like all day. Who is calling you that much?”

“None of your business.” You stuck your tongue out, standing up and glancing down at your phone once more. “But I’m gonna take this.”

They watched as you opened the door and slammed it shut behind you.

“Okay, is it me or is she being super secretive?” John B asked, eyeing you from the window.

“I haven’t noticed anything.” Sarah replied.

“Me neither.” Cleo chimed in.

You pressed the phone to your ear, a familiar voice coming through the phone.

“Y/n.” You heard him sigh in relief, “Fuck- where are you? Why weren’t you answering? I was so fucking worried, I was this ready to file a damn police report-“

“I’m fine, Rafe. What did you want?”

“Well, after you didn’t answer any of my texts or calls for like, two days, I got worried and I went to your house. I remembered where you put your spare key and-“

“You broke into my house?”

He let out a scoff. “I didn’t break in- alright?” You could practically see him press his fingers to the bridge of his nose, a habit he had grown.

“I was worried about you. And I wanted to check in. But you weren’t home.”

You sighed, sitting on the furniture on the porch. “Well, thank you, Rafe. I’m fine. I’ve just been… busy, you know? I have two jobs- and, you know, JJ is still technically my-“

“Your responsibility.” He said, tone flat as if he’d heard it a million times before. “I know that, but he’s nineteen, y/n. He can make decisions for himself, yeah?”

“I know.” You sighed out. “But- I mean, can you blame me? I’ve taken care of him my whole life. I don’t know anything else.” You spoke genuinely, and you could hear him let out a soft exhale.

“Just- be careful, okay? And, don’t worry about him so much. He can take care of himself.”

“Thank you, Rafe.” You murmured out.

“Anytime. Can you just.. you know, call or text me next time?” He asked, and you let out a soft chuckle.

“I will. I’m sorry.”

“I’ll see you, y/n.”

“See you,” you replied, before pulling the phone away from your ear, and hanging up. You leaned back in the chair you sat in, a heavy sigh escaping you.

“I need a drink.”

TAGLIST:

orange: could not tag

@cassie0sstuff @rafesgiirl @fals3-g0d @tiaamberxx @callsignwidow @saintnourah @calmoistorm @ethanthequeefqueen @theoraekenslover @just-levyy @hallecarey1 @wh0re4drewstarkey

[crowsofdarkness]

Soldat: Chapter Four

-gif not mine. credit to owner-

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Agent! Reader. Slight Steve Rogers x Female Agent! Reader

Content Warnings: language, 18 + implied smut, angst, fluff, kidnapping, violence.

Summary: Agent Y/N has worked alongside Steve Rogers at SHIELD for some time all while keeping a dark secret from everyone. Until one day that darkness faces her head on and she's forced to make a choice. Continue fighting along side Captain America? Or find her home once again with Soldat?

Authors Note: This was originally published on my old blog as a trilogy so I will be in the slow process of adding it to this blog. This is the first of the trilogy and will take place during The Winter Soldier. If anyone is interested in being tagged, let me know!

Tags: @globetrotter28 @sakuracyberhex @chinggay85-blog @bookofriverr @misatxox

Soldat Masterlist

“Steve told me you were a pilot,” I scoffed towards Sam. 

We were sitting at a table outside of a restaurant, waiting for our target to walk out. Steve and Nat were a few blocks over, waiting for word from us when we would be moving. 

Sam laughed, “I never said pilot.”

“Is it hard to fly?” I questioned with curiosity. 

“You get the hang of it after a while. And no, I will not teach you how to fly it,” Sam said. 

I faked pouted while I crossed my arms. “You’re no fun.”

He went silent only for a moment before he spoke, all jokes aside. “I know we just met and my opinions don’t matter but we’re bound to see him again. I just want to make sure you’re one hundred percent on taking him down. Like Steve said, he killed someone you all looked up to.” 

I nodded. “Can I be honest with you?” 

When Sam nodded, I continued. “I don’t know if it was because of how dark it was on the roof but when we saw each other, he acted like he didn’t even know me.”

“How long has it been?” 

“Uh-a few years. Maybe I look different or something?” I muttered. 

Our attention snapped towards the restaurant as our target walked out, Sam immediately dialing a number on his phone. I sat in silence, placing my sunglasses over my eyes and sat back in the chair. 

Maybe that was the reason why he didn’t recognize me that night. It was dark and had been a few years since we saw each other but yet, my heart still dropped when the realization hit that he didn’t recognize me. Was I that easy to forget?

“Let’s move,” Sam said while standing up. 

“Steve, do we actually have a plan here or are we just kidnapping this guy?” I questioned from a spot in the middle of the back seat. 

We were driving along the highway, trying to make it to Shield Headquarters in time to stop the helicarriers. We had learned from Jasper Sitwell that Project Insight would be launching in less than twenty four hours and we suddenly found ourselves with a change of plans. 

Hydra’s plan for the helicarriers was to use them to eliminate millions of people who were any sort of threat to them. All thanks to Zola’s algorithm. 

“I’m thinking,” Steve said, not turning his attention towards me. 

His eyes were trained to the road ahead of us as Sam continued to drive. 

I had tried talking to Steve but he had ignored me; only saying that we would talk about this later. 

“Hydra doesn’t like leaks,” Sitwell informed us. 

“Then why don’t you try sticking a cork in it,” Sam snapped before changing lanes. 

“Insight is launching in sixteen hours,” Natasha pointed out leaning towards Steve, “We’re cutting it a little close here.” 

“I know. We’ll use him to bypass the DNA scans and access the helicarriers directly,” Steve directed to us. 

He finally looked over his shoulder to me, only briefly, and I gave him a small smile. The thought of my past with Soldat was still bothering him, I could tell by the way his jaw was clenched tight as he returned the smile. 

We'll talk later, I mouthed, promising that I would indulge more about my past to him. 

All he did was nod before looking out the front windshield again and I leaned against my seat noticing that Sitwell had an exasperated look on his face.

“Are you crazy? That is a terrible, terrible idea.” 

Suddenly, a loud thud from the top of the car sounded and I couldn’t help the small scream that left my throat as I watched Sitwell being pulled from the car window and tossed to the other side of the highway, immediately being hit by a semi. 

My eyes grew with horror as the quick flash of metal glimmered in front of me causing Natasha and I to jump towards the front of the car, her landing on Sam’s lap while I landed on Steve’s. Gunshots echoed through the small car and Steve wrapped his arms around my waist in a tight grip as he hastily put the car in park, causing the man to roll off the car. His metal fingers dragged along the pavement before coming to a stop a few feet away from us. 

“That’s him?” Steve whispered in my ear. 

My throat went dry, no words being able to come out so all I did was nod.

A car slammed into the back of ours, pushing it towards him. The Winter Soldier jumped over the hood of our car landing on top with a thud. Sam slammed on the brakes as my hand reached around for my gun and smiled in victory when I pulled it free. Aiming it to the roof of the car, I shot a few rounds. 

“Shit!” Sam screamed when the metal arm busted through the front windshield and ripped the wheel off with ease. 

It was Natasha’s turn to fire a few rounds and I looked over Steve’s shoulder as the soldier was riding on the hood of the car behind us. They slammed into us a few more times before Steve busted open the door, pulling us to safety as the car hit the median, rolling a few times and coming to a stop.

“Nat!” I bellowed as I watched her and Sam roll away from us while Steve and I were safely sitting on his shield that protected our fall. 

She gave me a small wave, indicating that they were alright, and Steve helped me to my feet and I watched his face distort in pain. 

“Are you hurt?” I asked. 

“I’m fine. You’re bleeding, though,” His fingers gently grazed over my forehead before showing me the blood that covered his hand. 

“I’ll live,” I shrugged and turned towards Sam and Nat who had caught up to us.  

We all watched as someone handed the soldier a grenade launcher and without a second thought, Steve pushed me out of the way, blocking the shot with his shield. 

“STEVE!” I screamed as I watched him fly off the bridge and straight through a bus. 

Suddenly, hundreds of bullets cascaded around us, Sam and Nat taking cover behind a van while I hid on the side of another car across the median. The bullets ricochet against the metal of cars and my body shivered when one flew past my face, my hair flowing with the wind. 

My eyes scanned my surroundings, trying to avoid any of the flying bullets, and after fighting with my consciousness, I ran out from behind the car and jumped over the median to the opposite way of traffic. Thankfully with everything going on, cars had decided to exit the freeway long before reaching us. 

Weaving my way in and out of the cars that were there, I dared to glance over my shoulder and watched in fear as he launched a grenade at the car in front of me. The heat of the fire engulfed me as the power of the blast sent me flying over the bridge, me landing somewhat safely on an abandoned car. 

“Fuck,” I groaned, feeling the wind get knocked out of me. 

I laid there for a split second as the pain slowly subsided, wondering why he still couldn’t recognize me. My heart was breaking, realizing that the memories of us might have meant nothing to him. 

“Now’s not the time to be a little bitch, Y/N.” I cursed to myself before rolling off of the car. 

I ran with a small limp, knife clenched tight in my hand, as I waved people away from the scene. 

“Get away! Get back!” I ordered. “It’s not safe!”

Seeing his shadow from the bridge above me, I came to a halt, aiming my gun towards him. I breathed as the bullet hit exactly where I wanted; his goggles. 

Not daring to stay back, I scurried over to a fallen bus as I fired a few more rounds behind me, not sure if it was a direct hit this time. I continued to run as fast as I could, hoping I would find Steve soon. 

“Fuck!” I screamed out in pain when I felt a bullet rip through my thigh, sending me plummeting to the hard ground. 

Biting back the tears, I slowly but hurriedly dragged my limp body over to the car in front of me. I leaned back against it, allowing the coldness of it to cool down my warm body. Glancing down to the wound in my leg, I let out a few large breaths before a guttural scream scratched its way out of my throat as I plunged my finger in the wound, fishing out the bullet with little to no ease. 

“Damn it, Steve. Where are you?!” I sobbed, tears brimming my eyes. 

If anyone saw me crying right now they would be appalled. Big, tough, Shield Agent, former FBI special ops, former swat member, was crying over a man? I wasn’t crying over a man, per say. I was crying at the thought that Steve was in fact right. If this truly was him, what I had known about Soldat was just a lie. 

Without warning, more rapid gunfire sounded in front of me and I watched almost in defeat as someone jumped out of the bus, my spirits lifting only a tad. 

“Steve!” I gasped slowly rising to my feet. 

He looked over his shoulder after blocking the shots with his shield and ran over towards me, immediately throwing my arm over his broad shoulders. 

“Are you alright?” He cooed. 

“For now,” I admitted. 

The bullets continued to bounce off the shield as Steve and I tried to find safety. 

“Stay close,” Steve ordered. 

Obeying, I gripped his shirt as we started making our way towards the men that were shooting at us. One of the men to my right fell to the ground, gun clattering away from him. Looking up to the overpass, I gave a small wave of thanks to Sam who had clearly been watching our backs. Steve knocked the last shooter to his feet before coming to my side again. We both looked up to Sam. 

“Go! I got this!” He yelled. 

Nodding, Steve wrapped an arm around my waist while mine snacked its way around his neck and I tried my best to hold the majority of my weight as we tried to gain our surroundings, looking for Natasha. 

“Over there!” I pointed when I saw the soldier had his gun aim at Natasha and was about to pull the trigger. 

Steve ran towards him and I watched as the two fought. Shield vs knife. My leg dragged behind me while I used the last bit of my strength to help Natasha off of the ground. 

“You’re shot,” she observed. 

“No shit,” I groaned, feeling the sudden rush of blood run down my leg. 

We both watched Steve as he tried to land punch after punch to the soldier, always coming up empty. We watched in fear as they continued to fight, Steve throwing the soldier over his shoulder, the mask rolling a few yards away. 

My body went rigid as he slowly turned around, his unmasked face meeting ours. Blood flooded in my ears while my mouth ran dry, trying to find the right words to say. 

He stood a few feet in front of me and he looked exactly the same. Those eyes that haunted my dream for months were suddenly in front of me and everything around me vanished. I wanted nothing more than to walk into his arms. 

“Soldat?” I breathed. 

“Bucky?” Steve questioned at the same time. 

I snapped my eyes over to him, my heart getting caught in my throat at the mention of that name. “Bucky? As in best friend who you thought fell off a train seventy years ago, Bucky?” 

“Y/N, this is Soldat?” Steve croaked, realizing that the man who had saved my life years ago was his best friend. 

“Who the hell is Bucky?” Soldat questioned Steve before his gaze softened on me. “How do you know me?” 

“You don’t remember me?” I blinked, surprised. “Russia. 2009. Zola.” 

Soldat’s eyes bounced back and forth between Steve and I. 

“Y/N,” he whispered, “I know that name.” 

I nodded, hoping he would remember, however, The Winter Soldier returned as fast as he had disappeared and raised his gun to shoot but Sam came flying in, literally, and knocked Bucky a few feet away from me. 

He quickly stood and stared at Steve, something unreadable coming across his features. He lifted the gun again but was stopped when Nat got a hold of the grenade launcher, sending one off in our direction. 

We all jumped out of the way in different directions, me rolling far away from Steve. 

“Y/N, watch out!” 

Hearing Steve’s voice, I looked behind me, my scream being muffled by a pair of leather gloves while my body was being dragged away from my friends. My wounded leg dragged along the ground as I tried to kick my captor with my good leg. 

My efforts were useless as my body was spun around, eyes locked with one of the gunmen working with Soldat. 

“Get in the van. Now.” 

I continued to fight against him. “Let me go!”

“He wants you,” the gunmen struggled against my punches and kicks. 

My fighting seized when I felt a blow to the back of my head causing my body to go limp against his chest.  

[secretlittlerandezvous]

Breaking The Ice - Matt Boldy

Summary: Matt and Y/n work together but can’t stand each other, are forced to reevaluate their feelings after Matt saves her from a drunk man harassment.

Words: 1175

Trigger warning: Mention of harassment

Matt believed in hockey, hard work, and the kind of discipline that got results. What he didn’t believe in was getting along with Y/n, the annoying PR assistant who had an uncanny ability to drive him up the wall.

She’d been working with the Minnesota Wild for almost a year now, and since the moment they met, the two had clashed. Y/n wasn’t shy about pointing out his tendency to show up late to interviews or the fact that he treated PR duties like an inconvenience. In her eyes, Matt was arrogant, used to getting what he wanted because of his star status.

Matt thought Y/n was uptight and overly critical. She had this maddening way of making him feel like a misbehaving schoolboy, and every time she opened her mouth to criticize him, he felt the overwhelming urge to prove her wrong or to shut her up entirely, though not in a way he could ever admit to himself.

It all changed during a Wild charity gala. The event was one of the team’s biggest nights of the year, and Y/n had been put in charge of organizing everything - from the guest list to coordinating which players interacted with which donors. She’d been stressed for weeks, and when Matt showed up fifteen minutes late, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else, it was the final straw.

“Boldy,” she hissed, pulling him aside. “Do you know a thing called watch exists?”

“Nice to see you too, Y/n,” he said, completely unbothered.

“Do you know how important this night is for the team? For the organization?” she pressed. “I swear, it’s like you don’t care.”

He raised an eyebrow. “It’s not that deep. I’m here now, aren’t I?”

Y/n glared at him, crossing her arms. “Just try not to ruin anything, okay?”

“Your faith in me is truly amazing,” he said sarcastically before walking away from her.

The rest of the night passed in silence between them. Matt charmed the donors and signed autographs for the fans like a pro, but every so often, his eyes would drift to Y/n as she moved from guest to guest. She looked different that night. Her usual professional demeanor had softened slightly, her hair styled in loose waves and her dress hugging her figure in a way that made him catch for his breath.

But the moment their eyes met, she shot him a look that could have frozen an entire rink, and whatever strange thoughts he had quickly disappeared.

It was late when Y/n finally stepped outside to wait for her Uber. The night air was cool against her skin, and she hugged her arms around herself as she scrolled through her phone. She barely noticed the man approaching her until he was too close.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he slurred, his words thick with alcohol.

Y/n’s head snapped up and her body tensed. “Excuse me?”

“You’re way too pretty to be out here all alone,” the man said, stepping even closer.

“I’m fine,” she said firmly, taking a step back.

But the man didn’t take the hint. His hand shot out, grabbing her arm.

“Don’t be like that,” he said, his grip tightening.

“Let go,” Y/n said, her voice trembled despite her attempt to sound calm.

Before she could pull away, a voice rang out from behind her.

“She said let go.”

Matt stepped into view. His usually relaxed posture was gone, replaced by a tense, protective energy that sent a shiver down her spine.

The drunk man hesitated, his gaze flicking between Y/n and Matt. “What’s it to you?” he muttered.

Matt took a step closer, his towering frame casting a long shadow. “Go away,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

The man took a good look at Matt who was towering over him, his jaw clenched. The man hesitated, sizing Matt up, but one look at the hockey player’s clenched fists and glare was enough to make him back off. He muttered something incoherent and stumbled away into the night.

“You okay?” Matt asked, his tone softening as he turned to her.

Y/n nodded, though her hands were still shaking. “Yeah, I-I think so.”

Without a word, Matt took off his jacket and placed it over her shoulders. The gesture caught her off guard, and for a moment, she couldn’t find the words to respond.

“Come on,” he said. “I’ll wait with you until your ride gets here.”

The next few weeks were strange.

Matt found himself noticing Y/n in ways he never had before. The way her eyes lit up when she was passionate about something, the way she laughed when she thought no one was watching. She was suddenly so annoyingly captivating.

Y/n was equally thrown off. She couldn’t stop thinking about the way Matt had looked at her that night, his protective instincts and strength made her stomach twist.

Their banter continued, but it softened. What once felt like sharp jabs now felt more like playful teasing, and the shift didn’t go unnoticed by their coworkers.

“You two finally getting along?” one of Matt’s teammates joked during practice.

Matt just smirked, though he didn’t have an answer.

It wasn’t until an away game in Denver that everything came to a head.

Y/n had joined the team on the trip to handle media responsibilities as her boss stayed home sick. After the game, she found herself in the hotel lounge, sipping coffee and going over her notes. She barely noticed Matt approaching until he sat down across from her.

“Hey,” he said, his voice quieter than usual.

“Hey,” she replied, setting her notebook aside.

For a moment, they sat in silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” Matt said finally.

“About what?”

“That night,” he said, his eyes meeting hers. “I hated seeing you like that. I hated how scared you were.”

Y/n swallowed hard, her heart pounding. “Matt-”

“Let me finish,” he said. “I thought I hated you. But the truth is, you terrify me. You’re smart, driven, and you don’t take crap from anyone. Not even from me. And it’s been driving me insane because I don’t know how to deal with it.”

She blinked, completely caught off guard. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I like you, Y/n,” he said, his voice barely heard. “More than I should.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “I… I like you too,” she admitted, her voice shaking.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, slowly, Matt leaned in, his gaze flicking to her lips. “Is this okay?” he asked softly.

She nodded, and he closed the distance between them, their lips meeting in a kiss that was both tender and intense.

When they finally pulled apart, Matt rested his forehead against hers, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“So… does this mean you’re done calling me insufferable?” he teased.

“Don’t push your luck, Boldy,” she said, laughing softly.

But the warmth in her eyes told him everything he needed to know.

[gotham-daydreams]

The Dawn

Day 5 {Challenge Masterlist}

Has come, but of course, not every day is meant to go as planned.

[Yandere Batfam × Gender Neutral! Cop Reader(?)]

[Warnings: Gore-esc descriptions (a lot of mentions of flesh, flesh moving, muscle, teeth, growth like that and being described being where they shouldn't be), eldritch horror sort of description, ooc characters (?), implied death, alien reader, monster reader, confusing and vague description, obsessive behavior (at least implied), hardly a sprinkle of possessiveness but it's there if you squint, an almost-end-of-the-world scenario. Suicide in the form of self-sacrifice, there is fighting but nothing in detail, harm is done to the reader, body horror.] (Note: If I missed any, I apologize but I think you get the gist. This one is a doozy. Might be a little confusing, and isn't my best work, but I tried my best and once again apologize for the delay. For all those reading this, I hope you enjoy and this has been an interesting short series to try and write with you.)

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Of a new day has come, and all the residents of the Earth could feel it. Before the sun showed itself, the skies seemed to lose their blue undertones for one half of the world, and the other could see the effects as people – imitators and humans alike – with patches of stars etched into their skin, offered themselves to the sun when it shined down on them, all just to join the vessel who had given promises it never intended to keep. With their essence going into the ground of the Earth, slipping into every crack and crevice, dropping into the near boiling waters as brown, near reddish undertones overtake the atmosphere.

You don’t wait until morning, not with everything in place and nearly everything prepared.

The detective that came with you from Metropolis was lost, but a few miniscule organisms being lost compared to the large amount of other lifeforms on this planet meant little. He served his purpose, just as the rest had – and of their own volition no less. All for the chance to get closer to whatever their heart and mind desired most, a promise you never made but they believed in anyway. It was a funny thing, how something like that worked, but it’s something you’ve come to expect and have worked with numerous times. It’s helped you before, especially with the last few planets, and a little planet such as Earth didn’t seem to change that. Not that such a silly little thought had ever crossed your mind.

Even if the effects seemed to differ, and your encounter with this world’s strange anomalies seemed to only prove that further – you can’t say it wasn’t… enlightening in a way you hadn’t considered before. Which was saying a lot since you’ve had this ‘effect’ on living things for a long time, and yet you still learn more about it as it helps you feed and grow all the more. Admittedly, you didn’t notice it much at first – but after that day, you haven’t forgotten about it. You couldn’t. Not when it held the potential to finally satiate your unending, painful, excruciating appetite.

The memory is a fond one, and you can’t help but recall it each and every time you’re able to feast once again. After all, it’s done you so much good – and without it, you never would’ve been able to even fathom being where you are now. Let alone imagine how utterly satisfying a good meal could really feel. Not with how your own people treated such things, and certainly not with their inability to move from such idiotic customs and traditions – always looking towards a future they never truly worked towards. Though, you had no such problems, and if there was anything you had to thank them for – it would be that one fond, meaningful memory you hold that’s allowed you to see the error of their ways, and be the one to break the cycle of such foolish nonsense. They were lazy, almost arrogant with how confident they were that a good meal large enough to fulfill all of them would come someday and fall right into their laps. It was honestly embarrassing that you were supposed to be the same as them.

However, unlike them you have drive, ambition, and the will to actually try and achieve what they so desperately wished for. To say you had a ‘good meal’ was putting it lightly – as you’ve heard humans put it, in their terminology, you feasted like a king that day. Although the price was high, it was to be expected as food such as that didn’t come easy, nor did it simply grow from the ground. No, such a thing didn’t even exist on your planet.

The results alone were worth it, that much you knew – and it was enough for you to do it again, and again, and again.

One tradition from your species did stick, for it was the only thing that actually made your meals feel better with time. Especially as each and every feast made it easier to endure such things, and this own ‘habit’ of yours became more than just a means to an end. More than just a way to fill your gut and move onto the next planet – no, no, no. It was about feeling the rewards of your efforts, and being able to truly take it all in. You’ve heard a few humans refer to it as ‘chasing a high’, and you can certainly agree that it feels similar to that, just on a much larger scale.

Hence why now, your excitement knew no bounds. You could feel the sun just about to rise, but could feel all those already under its haze begin to fall rapidly, and that alone sent tingles down the spine of your current form. If there was one thing you appreciated about humans, it was their need to please – something that, in a moment like this, certainly changed things enough to where you would surely remember them after this. Their planet may have been small, but you could feel the thrill of the coming feast edging you on. These were certainly the most confusing, annoying, and impatient species you’ve ever worked with – but you couldn’t deny how helpful and fascinating they’ve been. You’ve learned a lot from this little preparation of yours, but now? Oh, now you’re able to finally relish in the reward for your efforts.

The small group of officers you came in with from Metropolis await outside the door for you, and line the hall in straight, parallel lines with their backs to the walls, and after them are the devout members of your little gathering you’ve had placed in Gotham a long time ago. You’ve honestly forgotten most of their names by now, but none of that mattered, and they didn’t seem to mind regardless.

A more natural smile rests on your face, and as you take one step out of the door, their bodies unravel right before your eyes. The very essence that made you, the thing your planet was mostly made out of, replaced the very humans who had followed you so diligently until this day. Most of them had described it as a sort of red dust, but you’d compare it more to the pollen plants on this planet produced, the ends of dandelions – but you could see the comparison, especially when it was more condensed. Something you had to figure out in order to even have them touch it or interact with it in any meaningful way. That was annoying at best, but once it was all figured out… well, you could appreciate humans for at least one other thing. Nevertheless, this was your reward to them, and they all took it with such ease that all you could do was smile wider and continue on with the rest.

The particles begin to swarm you, not one touching the ground as you breathe them in. Even tasting it on your tongue as you pass by more organisms, and they add to the growing haze around you.

By the time you step out of the apartment, it's hard for any other human to see you amongst the storm that seems to be forming around you, but you just continue to walk calmly. Each and every particle sinks into every pore of your body, and as much as you liked this vessel – since it was from one of your most devout followers, and you honestly had a bit of favoritism for it – you knew you’d have to let it go. Human bodies weren’t made to hold you, and could hardly withstand a fraction of your shifting abilities as it is. Like this, you knew it would only be moments until you shred this body to pieces with the mass you’re going to accumulate. Hm. Maybe as a true sign of respect for being such a wonderful host, and offering a body that could actually withstand the transfer while being able to last so long, perhaps you could save them last. For ‘dessert’, as humans called it.

You personally didn’t understand it fully, but it seemed like a good thing. So it’d have to do for now, and seemed honorable enough.

Licking your lips, the sun peaked above the horizon, and while it was still mostly white – the ring around it was a faint red, and the once blue skies were stained and tainted with murk, looking no better than the waters of the Earth. The clouds almost looked dirty from down below, and the world flooded with an odd silence it was never capable of before.

No screams sounded, but as you made your way to the heart of Gotham, many humans approached you to become part of the swirling particles around you that were growing into a sort of cyclone. All in an attempt to feed you, to give or gain whatever your mere ‘presence’ had told them. Their eyes began to leak with water, and they bore their teeth at you in such an odd way – with the corners of their lips still turned up, as if trying to smile with the bone underneath revealed. Something akin to ‘cheering’ filled the streets, and even if you didn’t fully understand the sound itself, you knew what it was supposed to convey.

Joy.

It was then that you knew this planet would truly be one to remember, as it too would relish this day – just as you were going to relish it. 

Before you could risk more damage happening to this vessel of yours, you stripped yourself from it – tucking it away in a nook between buildings before letting the swarm fully attach itself to you with no barriers left in between.

Finally, you could eat to your hearts content. 

— — — — — — — — — —

In full honesty, they should’ve anticipated that you’d be excited for this. That the very moment the first person decided to jump ship, you’d be itching to start, and get things going early – but they had hoped they’d have more time regardless. Your little countdown said as much, but clearly you were impatient, or simply just hungry – but those two things weren’t mutually exclusive, and it was sort of cute how excited you seemed to be. Even if the cost itself was great, and only growing steeper.

They were so close to finishing, and just on time too, but they’d just have to work with this. They didn’t have much of a choice, and even if they could hear the siren’s song from here, could feel the temptation in the very marrow of their bones as it practically ached to be released – they knew what awaited them would be much greater if they resisted and played this right. They’ve gathered as much help as they could, and with your effect washing over everyone on the planet at full force… well, if no one wanted what they did, they were useless anyway.

Getting started was easy – they had begun that part hours ago, and while you were taking your little ‘nap’ no less. A little over half of them were working on little to no sleep, but whatever you did…? It gave them just the energy boost they needed to continue regardless. As if their bodies have been freed of their limitations – or they just couldn’t feel the repercussions as strongly. Regardless of what it was, they weren’t complaining, and took full advantage of this. Barbara was even able to stand from her wheelchair, and even as her legs shook, she could nearly run like this despite still being unable to feel them entirely. Almost.

Those who were most needed on the finishing touches stayed, and the others went to greet you properly.

Finding you wasn’t the hard part – especially not when civilians were practically running in your direction, and all organic matter slowly seemed to fade away, and float towards where you were as well. Like just you revealing yourself made life corrode and rot away at the seems, almost like you had an amplified version of death’s touch, or perhaps were the manifestation of death itself – not that they believed such silly nonsense. You were a hungry little thing! You just needed a bit of discipline, and a very good teacher.

Luckily for you, they were many things – and they’d help you. Just as you’re going to help them.

The swarm looked mesmerizing from afar, and really matched the more earthy and dirty undertones the whole city seemed to take. Like roots from the ground, moss on walls, or vines hanging down from any high point they could reach – masses of flesh and veins seemed to form and grow. Latching onto buildings, and coming from the ground and every crack in the pavement below. Any other life that wasn't close enough to you, such as pets and so on… well, the crawling, writing masses from the ground and various buildings seemed to take care of it, and consumed what you immediately could not. Stemming from the very soil of the city that was once a dark brown, and now seemed oddly red – as did everything else the others seemed to touch before this day.

Small bits of vein and thin bones formed in food, with small pieces left in coffee beans, flour, and similar things having small spots of red in them. No one had to touch any of the baked goods to know the rot forming inside, and it's almost curious how all these small pieces writhe and wiggle, trying to reach one another in order to grow and form a larger mass. As if, even like this, such tiny pieces knew where other small fragments were. How to recognize each other, and had a natural need to be close. To fulfill its purpose.

Reaching the center of the city was easy, the lack of distractions was helpful – not that anything could take their eyes off of the spire forming right before their eyes.

Rising above the skyline, and as if trying to touch the sky and grow closer to the warmth the star it held, provided, was a sculpture in the making – and almost felt inappropriate to see it now, incomplete, unpolished, flawed in a way nothing human could be. Like strings of life, twisting in a braid, flesh from the ground began to rise up and formed something that was shaped like the top half of a human but lacked all the necessary features of one. Various rows of teeth, arteries, muscle, tendons, bone, and so on appeared all over the spire, with it growing much bigger the closer to the ground it was – where most of the feeding was done, as various mass of flesh dragged themselves across the ground and flung themselves to the center piece, allowing it to grow, and for the particles around you to take on a much brighter shade of red. The storm forming around you from the sheer amount of feeding you were doing all at once was nothing short of fascinating, but also made it easier to spot you, even if said ‘storm’ drew more dense around your form.

They couldn’t do much with the storm acting as a sort of barrier between you and them, and they knew the moment they crossed… well, their bodies would make the choice for them – and they couldn’t have that, so they started to cut off your supply from the outside.

Soon, smoke joined the clouds as fires began to spark, and nearly everything was set ablaze — something that immediately caught your attention. To say you weren’t happy was putting it mildly, but your actions afterwards were predictable.

You immediately went in for the attack, and chaos spawned from there. Noises never meant for human ears sounded, and it only further confirmed how alien you truly were – even if your most pure form tried to shape itself as a human at the top. Tendrils and other masses from buildings close to you shot out, and began attacking outside of the swarm of particles. Little to no thought was put behind the attacks, just simply charging forward, and trying to either grab ahold of or take out whoever was being attacked. All with the intent to kill, to consume no matter what – that much was obvious, and so was the fact that despite such smaller organisms holding no brain, they didn’t attack or run into each other. Working in tandem, acting as smaller parts that worked to keep the bigger, much larger and complex machine running.

The fight that broke out was messy, but thanks to you, the family was able to work in sync much better as well – and still being connected to you was very helpful in this instance. For once, the amount of damage they’d cause to the city was of little concern to them, as the flames roared on, and they used their most destructive methods yet. Others were extra messy with it compared to the rest, but there was a certain delicacy in their actions as the swarm slowly grew smaller and more dense, but ultimately got them closer to the center.

Naturally, your temper and mood was only worsening. Making you rage all the more and still try to consume as much as possible, but also growing more petty as you destroyed building, streets, and so on with your roots as an attempt to kill them, get them away from you, and or just rid of them entirely – but also to see something they had cultivated and tried to shape over their short lifespans, destroyed.

If they were all human, perhaps it would’ve worked – but they weren’t, and at least had partially expected this. After all, you were more akin to a child or wild animal when it came to these things. They didn’t exactly know how many times you’ve done this, or where, but had a good enough idea to suspect you didn’t expect much to begin with. Maybe this sort of thing had come easy to you before, and they didn’t necessarily see that as a bad thing, but that also meant your defenses were down, and they fully intended to use that.

Eventually, the few left at the manor had come back to join the battle, with a note being made to Bruce, and some things being discussed as majority of the action was kept elsewhere. After, was when the real plan began.

They started at your roots, which you immediately tried to defend, but you had to focus on all other things as you couldn’t sacrifice the organisms closest to you for growth you could get back quickly. Food was the most important thing to you at the moment, everything else was secondary. Yet, it seemed like these damn Wayne’s knew that as they deliberately went after your food, and also burned your defenses.

This was supposed to be the easiest city to handle, the one that would allow you to pass the first stage with ease – and move in more food without anyone catching on too quickly. They had no powers, they were at the disadvantage besides a few flimsy contacts, and had only noticed anything was wrong during their final moments – but they somehow managed to learn of your greatest and most shameful weakness, knew where to attack, and were still able to coordinate and think clearly enough to form plans?! It wasn’t fair!! It isn’t FAIR!

Another loud shriek fills the air, and when you begin to feel a tingling ache – you finally take things a little more seriously, and more of your mass forms into muscle and bone. Yet, you swear you hear the smallest sounds of amusement from below through the smaller piece that had yet to reach you, coming from various members of this little, pathetic excuse of a so-called ‘family’. Something akin to anger sparks again, and you target all who dared to find anything about this ‘funny’.

You were so focused on targeting anyone who insulted you with such pathetic noises that you hardly noticed when you were low enough to swipe at some individuals – but eventually, you tire of this game.

“ENOUGH!” You shout, voice booming and loud as it echoes down the overwise quiet streets. Taking all the mass you could, you place yourself atop the spire of flesh, bone, and writhing life again. Forgetting your reasons for even doing this, you take in all of the particles that swarm around you, with them swirling around you in a whirlwind before it all stops, and you finally let out a sigh. Having to remind you that these foolish little creatures that dare stop you are made of only a fraction of what you have, that they are merely human, weak, and nothing more. A language without scripture falls from the countless mouths etched and stitched across the beautifully erotic form you call a body, but whatever you said, it makes the small pieces that were left in even the furthest parts of Gotham bolt towards you, and help grow the mass. There, much better.

Looking down at the pathetic life forms that tried to strike you down, you curse them in the only way you know how, and all the windows of the buildings around you shatter into fragments of glass. Whatever mass was able to grow in them. Formed together in large tendrils, and slammed down on the concrete below – beginning their own attacks, and rooting in the building they overtook. Like a parasite clinging onto its host long after death.

Anger itself wasn’t something you were entirely familiar with. You yourself didn’t seem to realize it, but they could tell – something like that is easy to pick up on in their usual line of work, and especially when one of them can read body language as easily as she can. It didn’t seem like an important detail, and it certainly didn’t make your attempts any less ruthless, but it made way for them to have the confidence that you’ve had all this time up until now.

Unfamiliarity can make one messy, uncoordinated, and unable to notice things they wouldn’t miss otherwise. Naturally, they should’ve been that way with you, but because of your very… ‘presence’ – it was nearly impossible for them to feel that way.

The air becomes harder to breathe as smoke continues to fill the air, and the smell of chemicals is mixed in. You hardly notice, not having such senses in a form like this, but you can feel the heat, and it only makes you more agitated – and thus more violent in your attempts to snuff out such insulting efforts to interrupt your feeding.

Your roots move further into the ground, and spread – parts of the braid that make up the lower half of your body untangle themselves and provide whatever defense and offense they can. More of your body hardens, and from down below, you look like a tree that’s slotted itself into the earth and just uncovered the fleshy, bone-like structure inside. People keep trying to run towards you, and fewer are succeeding, but those that do turn to particles for a brief moment before their immediate consumption. It’s clear you're taking this a little more seriously, and the family responds by doubling their efforts.

Then, the strangest thing happens as an oddly familiar shape moves in the sky, and soon blocks out the sun. Illuminating the pulsating, red mass that is your true and most captivating form. Yet, as much as they’d like to stand around and simply stare in awe, they take this opportunity while you’re disconnected from the sun.

Sounds of gunfire, roaring flames, indescribable shrieks, and occasional communication from the remaining heroes increase in volume as you only seem to grow bigger and bigger – yet clearly more agitated as well. Who knows what exactly is getting on your nerves, but it’s enough for you to swoop down and swipe at them. Something akin to animalistic growls escape the countless misshaped ‘mouths’ on your form, and your so focused on attacking and getting these pesky bugs away from you that you fail to realize a few areas on your roots begin to secrete a substance they aren’t supposed to. Though, when you finally do and are about to pull away – one of the younger ones, an anomaly you notice too late that is dressed like the pathetic family pulls you closer to them with a force you can hardly account for, and just as you try to retaliate, you realize you can’t right away.

The bottom half has been severed from you, and you only come to realize what, exactly, that substance may have been as an explosion ruptures throughout the city.

Of course, you try to over take the body of the being that grabbed you – only to get pulled off once again, and flung away from any nearby bodies. Only screams leave the body they severed you from, and all you can do is scramble as each part of you that’s left tries to latch onto something, anything, and that desperation nearly splits up the upper body you have left.

Some of it does split off, and as you lose multiple senses, you form very grotesque eyes on the neck of your form, and they move – trying to look in every direction possible for something to latch onto – and then you spot it.

Not a single question runs through your mind, as you rush and latch onto the body of the human form you had worn all this time. Which now laid out in the open, looked deprived and like it was nearly about to rot away at the seams – but as the smallest of tendrils from your body touch it, life returns to the corpse.

Of course, some damage is done to it, but you have no time to think about that as the sun begins to peek through the moon once more – only for it to get cut off once more. You can barely feel the warmth of its rays over the cold metal that both binds and burns you, but despite it all you try to fight it, and call to the pieces of you that remain.

Reaching out to the sun, you’re dragged across the rough concrete as you try to claw toward the sun. It’s harder than they expected to move you, but with enough effort, they’re able to pull you away.

At the sacrifice of some of your form, you try to shape whatever defenses you can and fight against whoever is dragging you and lash out against them – but more chains are formed as a response, and their grip on you is anything but kind and tender. They feel as if they’re about to rip you apart and melt away whatever’s left over, but nothing grants you that mercy.

Your sensations are dulled with the dark cloak that surrounds you, and you can hardly even register as you're thrown into a box that’s air tight. There is no telling where you’re going, if anywhere at all, but you can feel the call and connection to the pieces of you in Gotham City beginning to sever. Not once do you stop struggling and screaming. An endless stream of your own curses – both foreign and familiar to this planet accompany you until you're roughly tossed into a dark space you can hardly make out, but it feels as comfortable as the pavement in the human city.

The cloak falls, and you can only glare at the sight that greets you – but they can hardly focus on that, not when majority of the color in your iris has taken on a light shade of pink that surrounds your pupil in the shape of a large star, with the gaps in between each corner being filled with your original eye color. Mass of muscle is stuck to half of your face and around one of your eyes, as if the tendons themselves are attached to the skin and grew out of it. It trails down to your arm – with your hand being similar to Greenwood’s after his little ‘reveal’, only smaller and reduced to the same size as your human hand. It's clear the transition from your true form to a human one has come with its downsides and its own flaws, and even if at least one of them was sorry, a few weren’t and almost preferred you this way. It felt like the best of both worlds, and at least this way you were more comprehensible, and easier to understand. Less of a headache to look at – not that they had minded, you were utterly breathtaking regardless.

Still, with you down here, they had a lot of cleaning to do upstairs, and as right as it felt to be down here with you, they couldn’t let you get to their heads too much just yet. There would be time for that later.

“LET ME OUT!” You demand, and honestly it almost works – as did all of your commands prior to this, but just as all those previous moments, they’re able to resist. Their own drive and will trumping yours. Their need to have what’s been promised to them taking over any and all sense.

So, those that brought you in begin to leave, moving to the elevator they had used to come down and head back up to the batcave. However, the last of them stops for a moment, and turns to glance at you. “Just sit tight, and we’ll be right with you. Don’t try anything too drastic- I’d hate to return to nothing but a puddle of goop- and the others too, I guess.” He didn’t seem too thrilled on the subject, as if the concept of sharing with the rest upset him somehow. “But, go ahead and knock yourself out. Because you’re going to be staying with us for the rest of your time here on Earth. So, if you’ve got any other space buddies?”

He turns to face you better, though only by one additional step. “I hope your last memories of them were good enough.”

When he turns and leaves, another shriek tears through your throat, but by the time they all reach the bat cave, it’s hardly even audible. They can sense it more than they can actually hear it, which is an odd sensation but one they’re willing to adapt to. The payoff already feels more than worth it, and just knowing you're around makes them feel so good they don’t know how they’ve been able to survive without you until this point in their lives. Like they’ve all been missing something, and whatever it is, you have it, and are the key to gaining it.

So even as you scratch at the damp, cool walls – deprived of a meal you were so close to fully devouring, and your senses can hardly pick up on anything as the sun's rays are far, and all other extensions of yourself are being dealt with, you scream until you can no longer afford to sacrifice the amount of energy you were able to consume.

Earth will regret this. They will regret this, and you will do everything in your power to ensure that each waking moment of theirs is nothing but utter torture…

However, in spite of all the dark promises you make and vow to see through, your glorious feast is cut short, and life on Earth is allowed another day to flourish.

[madhattervanessa]

Contemplate

Summary: Reunion sex hits different - Simon and you feel out your boundaries.

Warnings: SMUT- like, absolute filth, oral, squirting, thoughts about a threesome, overstimulation, masturbation

Words: 1489

A/N: This is turning into a whole beast of a series. Send help. (I'm running out of gifs, too)

Requests are open as always.

Masterlist - Mobile Masterlist

prev. Part - next Part

-

When you return to bed that night, Johnny’s cologne is still lingering on your skin- the masculine, clean scent, a bit of cheap deodorant… The smell had immediately brought you back to the scene of Simon making out with you and groping you while Johnny had watched with that smug look, his chest still wet from the shower.

So, yeah.

You do go to sleep that night thinking about Simon fucking you on the kitchen counter and his friend watching.

Or maybe even joining in.

Fuck.

He does have a very pretty mouth. You’d love to see if you could wipe that cocky smirk off of it.

You had woken up horny and valiantly held out until after you’d had breakfast and texted Simon a quick Good morning, handsome. 

You’d hoped he would come over but you also knew he must be exhausted.

So, despite your intention to wait for him, you had eventually given in to the hot pulse of lust.

Your phone buzzes next to you but you ignore it, too wrapped up in chasing your orgasm.

You writhe and press your vibrator down a little harder against your clit.

When the door of your bedroom creaks open, you drop the vibrator and immediately reach for your nightstand.

You fumble a little and your pulse beats in your throat as you lean over to the drawer.

“Easy, love.”

You turn your head immediately and feel your panic ebb at the familiar, tall figure you spot in the hall.

Simon is leaning against the doorframe, completely relaxed, as if he weren’t aware of the gun in your nightstand.

“Goddamnit Simon”, you cuss, your heartbeat in your ears. You struggle to find the buzzing toy in the sheets in an effort to turn it off. 

“Y’didn’t answer my text.”

“Fucking-” you finally manage to turn the buzzing off and lift your head towards him. The flush on your cheeks feels like it’s burning hot at this point. “-christ. I was uhh… busy.”

“Mh. I can see that”, he murmurs, still leaning against the doorframe. He keeps talking but it’s like your pussy has taken over your mind, any of his murmured words don’t even reach your brain.

He is in that black workout shirt again, the one that makes the black ink of his tattoos stand out, the flex of his bicep seeming even bigger somehow, the width of his shoulders accentuated by the way the fabric stretches over them.

You clench your jaw.

“... and that bloody idiot seems to be stayin’. Don’t even want to know the trouble ‘e’s in at this point. Doubt he’s gonna find a flat anytime soon.”

Your eyes flick back up to Simon’s face. But he is already smiling, like he knows exactly what he is doing to you.

“That bad, love?”

You cringe at yourself but your clit is still swollen and you can feel your heartbeat pulsing between your legs.

“Yeah.”

He hums and pushes off of the doorframe. When he reaches the edge of the bed, he briefly shoots a look towards the abandoned vibrator.

You reach for it and snatch it before Simon can make for it. But you see him lunge for a moment. It makes you laugh and he grunts. When he grabs your ankle and tugs you down towards the edge of the mattress, your giggles only intensify.

“Si!”

He grunts your name as you kick at him, adrenaline already spiking in your blood as you fight his grip.

You like making him work for it- though eventually, he lets go of you in favor of ripping the blanket off to expose your naked body to him. 

You are breathing hard as you watch him shuck off his shirt and pants.

Completely naked, he lunges for your legs again.

You gasp at the brute force he uses this time, flawlessly overpowering you as he tugs you close. He is looming over you as he pins you down.

You can feel your heartbeat in your throat as you come nose to nose with him.

“Feeling feisty?”

“Yeah”, you murmur and nudge your chin up towards him. He retreats a little and you growl at him.

“Little firecracker”, he hums before indulging you- he just kisses you for a moment but it’s already heated. “Dreamed of you.”

You feel the grin curling your lips immediately and hurriedly tug him into another kiss.

His hands roam- firm, but adoring touches, that finally stop when he cups your breasts.

“Gonna let me eat you out?”

You let your head fall back to the pillows and watch with hooded eyes as he gently squeezes your tits.

“I just want you to fuck me Simon- I- I need it.”

“Yeah?”

“Uhhuh.” You try and fail to rub your wet pussy against his hard cock.

He hums and leans down to let the broad plane of his tongue drag bottom to top over your tit. It makes you whine and you struggle against him as he does it again before he bites at your collarbone. 

“So loud, love, do you want Johnny to hear?”

You are stunned by the low murmur, freezing.

Simon’s eyes are on yours immediately. His hand is still cupping your breast.

There’s a moment of stunned silence where neither of you move.

“I, uh- hah- uhm..”, you stutter, feeling more exposed now that that intimidating, silent look is on Simon’s face. “I-I can try to be more quiet if it’s embarrassing for you.”

Simon keeps watching, head tilting slightly as his fingers start playing with your nipples again.

“I like showing off what’s mine, love.”

You inhale sharply.

“Yeah?”

He grunts an affirmation before he leans down to take your stiff nipple into his wet, soft mouth.

You let your head fall back and bite your lip as he starts to flick his tongue over your nipple, eliciting more high whines from you.

When he leaves off, you’re ready to protest- but then he is already turning you over on the bed. He cages your legs underneath his, crudely pulling your ass cheeks apart.

You wriggle underneath him, trying to lift your face off of the mattress.

When you hear him spit into his hand, you turn your head to look at him.

He is towering over you and his arm flexes as he strokes his hard cock.

You bite your lip and shake your ass a little. His eyes flick up to yours and you smile at him.

He smacks one of your cheeks and you moan, still caught in the intense eye contact.

“Are you going to fuck me or not?”

He just uses his second hand to spread you open, his thumb catching on the opening of your pussy. You watch his face as he slides the first inch of his cock inside. You watch the exact moment his breath catches in his throat and he stops.

“Simon-!”, you urge, trying to push back against him. You manage a few inches before he lets his head fall back and stops you in your tracks.

“Fuck- give me a minute, love.”

He lets his palm rub over your lower back before taking a deep breath.

When he gives you a little thrust, you sigh in relief.

He bends over you and presses his nose to your shoulder as he slowly starts to fuck you, barely moving you as he hisses through his teeth, fighting for some control.

You let him have all of it, patiently waiting for him to calm down.

“Fuck, love, I- I need you to turn around.”

You scramble up to your knees. He helps you turn to lie on your back. When you finally meet his eyes, you can’t quite read the emotion in them.

So you just draw him close, kissing his cheek and chin as he wraps your legs around his waist.

“I really missed you, Simon,” you murmur and he groans before almost aggressively kissing you. You moan into it, letting him muffle your sounds as he pushes into you again.

It’s heaven: he fills you just right- and then he puts his thumb on your clit. Your jaw drops, your lungs heaving for breath as he fucks you while he rubs his thumb up and down in a steady motion over your clit.

“There you go,” he groans and you bite down on your lip hard as you feel your first orgasm coming on, wrenching through your body.

“Fuck, Simon! Ah-!”

“That’s right love, just hang on.”

You bury your face in the crook between his shoulder and jaw, desperately trying to quiet down.

“Let’im hear you love,” he grunts and presses you back into the mattress. “Give ’im somethin’ pretty to jack off to.”

The thought alone makes you whimper and another harsh snap from Simon’s hips makes you follow his command.

He barely stops fucking you when he grabs your leg to make it rest on his shoulder.

“Oh god, Simon, wait-”, you chortle and your eyes start to well up with tears as he starts fucking you deep.

“You got it kid, come on.”

You sag against the pillows, your arms dropping to hold on to the fabrics strewn around you while he keeps pounding you.

“There’s a good girl.”

You feel a tear slip out of the corner of your eye.

Simon doesn’t stop but instead leans in closer, fucking you even deeper and hitting raw heaven.

When he drags his tongue over the tear track left over your cheek, it all becomes too much.

You fall apart and your voice cracks on a deep, primal moan as you feel yourself gush all over him. He groans and tastes your bottom lip as your mouth hangs open.

He bites down on it as he jerks into you with a few more stunted thrusts before he himself groans, then whimpers, as you feel him paint the inside of your cunt with his cum.

Your chest heaves with heavy breaths and you get another glimpse of what can only be described as an awed, almost love-struck look on Simon’s face, before everything starts to blur a little.

“Love?”

You manage to open your eyes, a herculean effort, truly, to look at Simon.

You can still feel him inside of you and as he leans back a little, the twitch of his half-hard cock makes you whimper.

“Fuck,” he breathes and gently presses his palm against the bottom of your thigh. His thumb gently rubs over the slick lips of your pussy, still framing his cock. “You going to let me eat you out or are you too sensitive?”

“I need a break,” you murmur.

“Right.” 

The loss of body contact makes you feel queasy, but then Simon is already picking you up.

He manages to deposit you on the toilet to pee with a minimal amount of grumbling from you.

He wipes you down with a warm, soapy washcloth after.

After carrying you back to bed, he drags you to lay on top of him, quickly dragging a blanket over the two of you.

As soon as his fingers bury themselves in your hair, your eyes slip closed.

He keeps massaging your head with one of his large hands as you drift, telling you about some of the things he had seen in the last few months, the stupid jokes he has learnt while away, which you are now convinced are mostly Johnny’s fault.

Eventually, he makes you shift into the crook of his arm to take a gulp of the glass of water on your bedside table.

You keep your cheek on his chest, drawing idle circles on his stomach as he holds you.

“So did you and Johnny ever…?”

He swallows and you watch his brow furrow for a moment. He sighs as he lies back down and folds his arm behind his head to rest on it.

“Not like that. But we’ve… had a fair share of nights where we went and shared a girl who was into it.”

You hum into his skin, busying yourself with pressing kisses to his pec as you turn that new piece of information over in your. After making sure his heart is well covered in them, you take a deep breath to speak.

“I’ve never… uhm… I’ve only ever done that with two girls and a guy.”

Simon hums, feigning disinterest. But you’re familiar with that tone. 

“I didn’t know you liked girls.”

You turn to sneak another look at him.

“Do you like guys?”

He is staring at the ceiling and you study the curve of his wispy lashes as you wait for his answer.

“‘s complicated who I like.” 

“That’s alright. You like me, yeah?”

“Yeah, love. I really like you.”

He pulls you closer to his face and you scrunch your nose as he rubs his prickly cheek over yours.

You smile and press a wet kiss to his scarred cheek.

“I really like you, too.”

He hums before pressing a wet kiss to your temple that makes you grin. 

“So. Brunch?”

You hum and turn your head, not even having to pull him down to get a peck on your lips.

“I don’t know if I can make it, honestly.”

“Good thing I have a coffee waiting for you, then. You can have a little pick me up before we go.”

The kitchen counter is still cool underneath your thighs as you hold his hand in one of yours, the other cradling the cup of coffee he had brought you- iced latte, your favorite.

As you cradle the cup, you let your eyes flit over the colorful array of flowers- some of the petals look mushed, like he had held them too hard on his way over. You try to ignore Simon looking you up and down slowly, like he is drinking you in.

“D’you like the flowers?”

“Mhm.” You pull him closer and press a kiss to his lips, fully intending it to be innocent.

But when Simon lets his palms rub over your naked thighs, you can already feel your body responding to the careful touch, goosebumps rising on your skin.

There hadn’t been any messages exchanged while he had been away. It’s obvious in these moments when he just stares at you, in a way that you know others find unsettling.

You offer him the coffee in your hand but let him finish his staring, first. Eventually, he hums and grabs it from you. You let your eyes trail over him as he takes a big gulp.

He locks eyes with you and swallows hard around his sip. He pushes the cup back into your hand before he quirks his lip in that way that always gets you.

“Would you like to skip brunch, love?”

You nod and set the cup down next to the sink before you reach for him. He grabs your wrists and makes you wrap your arms around his neck. His hands follow the line of your arms, down to your shoulders and your waist. You wriggle in his grip and bury your nose under his jaw, shamelessly inhaling his scent.

He wraps his hands around your thighs and for a moment you think he is about to carry you back to the bedroom, but then he just grinds his half-hard cock against your pussy. You mewl into his neck at the pressure against your puffy pussy.

He does it again and again, leisurely rolling his hips while you bite at his neck, using it as an outlet as he grinds against you.

It makes you embarrassingly wet and after a few minutes, the blunt press of his cock turns into a drag of the wet fabric of your panties against your clit.

When he suddenly stops and backs off a little, you slump forward, your lips slick from your harsh breaths into his neck.

He falls to his knees without another word and lets his mouth open just a tad before he drags his lips over your wet panties. His hot breath ghosts over the soaked gusset. You dig your fingertips into the underside of the kitchen counter, clawing at it, as he rubs the bridge of his nose against your pussy. It nudges in between your puffy lips and your knees jolt to close when the hard bridge of his nose rubs against your clit.

“Fuck- Simon-”

He inhales deeply before fitting his lips over where your clit is hidden underneath the fabric.

You let your head fall back.

He’s murmuring something into your pussy before finally dragging the fabric to the side. He spreads you open and drags the flat of his tongue over your pussy.

It’s a firework of sensations, the warmth, the rough texture of his tongue slowly dragging over your hard clit.

He seals his lips around your clit, then.

It makes your whole body jolt. He soothingly rubs his thumb over your mons as he starts to gently suck on your clit. 

When his tongue starts to flick against it, too, you press your fingertips into the underside of the kitchen counter until your knuckles turn white.

After another breathless sound from you, he pushes his mouth against you harder; it forces you to bury one hand in his hair. You put your other arm behind you for balance as he groans into your pussy. You scrunch your eyebrows together as your thighs twitch in time with his ministrations, until you are all but shaking, desperately trying to gulp down air.

Your desperate breaths leave you in a sobbed out sigh when you come with his mouth fused to your clit. Your thighs are clenched around his head as you ride it out, going back and forth between tugging him closer and pushing him away as he laps at you.

Eventually, he pries your legs away from his face. He presses another gentle kiss to your pussy before getting to his feet again.

You pet at his neck and blink a few times before meeting his eyes. However, your gaze immediately falls to his slick lips, down to his chin.

It’s a slippery slope that leads you to ogle his chest, before your attention is caught by the obvious tenting of his boxers.

“Hungry?”

You lick your lips and raise your eyes back from the wet spot on his boxers to his eyes.

“Starving.”

When you start pulling at his underwear, he huffs out a laugh into your neck.

-

[just-dreaming-marvel]

A Terrible Accident ~ Part 3

A TERRIBLE ACCIDENT MASTERLIST

< previous part

Summary: The Team works on a plan to help you and Bucky.

Word Count: 1,875ish

Warnings: talk of rape, abuse, trauma

Notes: Been awhile for this update... sorry about that... read with caution...

Bucky wouldn’t allow any of the Wakandans inside his cell, including Shuri. Luckily, Shuri had the technology to be able to still run the needed tests. It took her a few hours to finish running what she needed to before gathering the team into one of the conference rooms. Shuri didn’t put any of the information she gathered on the screens yet. Not wanting any of the team members to read ahead.

“What have you found, Shuri?” Steve asked, unable to wait any longer. He was worried for his best friend.

“As I feared, something has happened to the rewiring that we had done to Barnes and the Winter Soldier was able to return,” she admitted. Steve’s face dropped while the other team members tried to keep their composure. “My team and I are coming up with a plan. We think that we can do the same protocol—“

“The protocol that didn’t work?” Tony questioned with a scoff.

“There are tweaks that can be made. I was hoping to have your help, Stark, as well as Dr. Banner’s.”

“How will you do the protocol when Barnes won’t allow anyone in the cell with him?” Asked Sam.

“With the previous protocol, we put him in cryo until I could—“

“No. No,” Steve interrupted. “Bucky cannot go under again.”

“Let Shuri finish, Steve,” Nat said.

“As I was saying,” Shuri continued, “we put Barnes in cryo and then woke him up to do the protocol. With his resistance to even having people in the same room as him, I believe we need to have him under the whole time and wake him only to test it.”

“He won’t agree to this,” said Sam. “Not at all.”

“He’ll do it for Y/N,” Steve defended. “He’ll do anything for Y/N.”

“He believes that shutting himself away is for Y/N’s sake,” Wanda said. “I don’t know if he will believe that this will actually work after this.”

“Y/N can convince him.”

“Y/N’s not allowed to go anywhere near Barnes,” Tony said. “As per his orders and mine. It’s for the best.”

“She may be the only one able to help Bucky.”

“She’s also seriously injured in the med bay thanks to your friend.”

“He wasn’t—“

“It’s Barnes’ prints and sperm that were found all over her! It was him! I don’t care that you believe him to have two separate personalities, it was still him! He is not going near her and vice versa. End of discussion.”

~~~

You knew that the Team had been pulled into a meeting. This was your chance to sneak away and see Bucky. You knew that Tony would be incredibly pissed at you, but you needed to see Bucky. It was harder to get down to the detention cells than you had originally thought, all due to your injuries. 

Walking as quickly as you could, which wasn’t very fast at all, you searched for the cell that Bucky was in. It broke your heart when you found him in the farthest cell away from the elevator and stairwell. Holding your breathe, you took the final step needed to stand in front of the one-way glass. 

Bucky looked awful. He was in the corner on the floor. His hair was hanging over his face, but failing to hide the dark circles under his sad eyes. Clearly, he hadn’t changed and your blood was still splattered over him. The only thing missing was his metal arm. You ran your eyes over the room to see that his arm had been tossed across the room. It broke your heart to see him like this, yet… there was a tiny voice inside your head telling you to run away. You hate that the Winter Soldier had made you scared of the man you loved. You knew that they were different, but ran now your head was beginning to trick you into thinking otherwise.

With a shaky hand, you went to press the button that would allow you to speak to him. Before you could press the button, you were stopped.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Tony’s harsh voice made your head snap in his direction. He was bounding down the hall, with Steve, Natasha, and Sam behind him.

“I need to speak with him,” you responded, getting emotional. You backed up against the console, unknowingly pressing the button that would allow Bucky to hear what was going on. “He has to know that it’s not his fault. I have to tell him that it’s not his fault… I have to…” Tears were streaming down your face and you had begun trembling. “I have to make this right… I have to help him… I—“

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Natasha cooed, stepping past Tony to get to you. 

“No! It’s not okay!” You tried to lean away from Natasha’s caring hands. “It’s never going to be okay! I—I have to tell him that it’s not his fault! I have to convince him of that to help me believe it!”

Stunned silence echoed through the hall. The realization of what you had said—what you had admitted—hit you like a freight train.

“Oh my…” You suddenly broke down in tears and collapsed on the floor. “I didn’t mean that!” You cried. “I didn’t mean that!” Natasha followed you and pulled you into her. “I love him! I do!”

“We know, sweetie,” Natasha said as she tried her best to calm you.

“I know it was the Soldier,” you sobbed. “I know it wasn’t Bucky… He would never hurt me like this. But… But…”

Natasha glanced up at the men who were staring at the scene with sad, desperate looks. She turned her focus back to you. “Let’s go back to bed, Y/N. You need more rest.”

You didn’t have the energy to argue with Natasha. You let her help you to your feet and guide you out of there. Tony, Steve, and Sam were frozen in their spots for a moment trying to process what you had said. 

“Shit,” Sam muttered. He quickly went over and pressed the button that turned off the sound for Bucky.

Steve’s eyes widened and he rushed over to the window to check on his friend. Bucky was standing in the center of the room, head down. The men could see the tears trailing down his face and falling onto the floor.

“How do we fix this?” Steve whispered, eyes never leaving his friend.

“I don’t know if there’s a way, Cap,” Sam admitted. 

~~~

Staring at the ceiling became your new thing to do. Members of the Team kept coming up to talk to you, but everything they were saying was fuzzy. You kept replaying the last few days in your head. Every action. Every word. The shift between Bucky and The Winter Soldier. The fact that you had admitted that you were scared. 

“She needs help,” Sam whispered, watching you from outside your room. “Professional help.”

“They both do,” Natasha replied. “Hell, all of us do.”

“Shuri’s planning on forcing Bucky into cryo. I absolutely hate it, but there’s no other way.”

“We have to trust that she knows what she’s doing. She’s the only one who has a chance of ridding him of the Winter Soldier programing permanently.”

“Maybe we take them both to Wakanda. They have technology there that could help both of them in a way none of us are able. Shuri’s probably alright thinking about taking Bucky there anyway.”

“It’s not a terrible idea, though I don’t know how Tony would feel about taking Y/N away from here. You know she’s basically his sister.”

“He needs help, too. He hasn’t fully healed from the fact that The Winter Soldier killed his parents and then this happens… Tony may never let Bucky in the compound again, let alone near Y/N.”

“This is an impossible situation.”

~~~

The team had been called by Shuri into a meeting. Everyone was sitting around the room, the tension thick.

“I’ve placed Sargent Barnes in cryo,” Shuri informed. “I will be moving him to Wakanda for further treatment.”

Steve stood next to Shuri. “I’m going with them and will be supervising everything,” he explained. “I will still be on duty and will do what is necessary from Wakanda, but I need to be there for Bucky.”

“Natasha and I were talking,” Sam spoke up, “and we think that maybe Y/N should go to Wakanda as well.”

“Absolutely not!” Tony immediately argued. “She will never go near Barnes again. Understood? You heard her, she openly admitted to being scared of him.”

“They wouldn’t need to talk. Wakanda just has better resources—“

“That we can bring here if needs be! I’ve already contacted the best therapists that money can buy and are moving them to the compound for the time being. She needs to be home to heal and away from that monster.”

“It’s not a monster, Tony!” Steve shouted. “He’s my friend! He is all of ours friend!”

“Not anymore he’s not. Who ever wants to go with them can go, but Y/N will remain at the compound. End of discussion.”

~~~

Steve sighed as sat on your bed. You were still awake, but staring at the ceiling like you had been since you came back into this room. It was dark outside and the only light coming into the room was from the hallway.

“Bucky and I are leaving in the morning,” Steve whispered, unsure if you could even comprehend his words. “Sam’s going to join us in a few days. He wants to make sure you’re alright. Wanda and Vision said they’ll come, too. We might be able to use their powers to help Bucky finally be free of the programing, so that’s hopeful.” He stared at you for a silent moment. “I’m so sorry about everything, Y/N/N…” Tears collected in his eyes. “I wish that I could fix this more… I know that the two of you love each other. And I have to hope everything will work out. It will.” He stood up and leaned over you. He pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. “I’ll keep you in the loop, no matter what Tony does, I promise.”

Steve turned away and almost missed your quiet, “don’t.”

He spun back around and hurried back to your side. “What?”

“Don’t keep me updated… please,” you rasped, growing emotional. Steve thought his heart couldn’t break any further. “I… I need time… and I… I don’t want the pressure… I’m sorry, Steve.”

“No, no, no, no,” he shook his head. “Please don’t apologize to me. If that’s what you want, then I will respect that.”

“I’m so sorry.” Tears slipped down your cheeks.

“Don’t be. I will be calling to check on you though, okay? Can’t let you think I forgot about you.”

“Okay.”

“You’ll get through this, Y/N, no matter what. And don’t let Tony force you into doing anything you don’t agree with. Alright?”

“Okay.”

“Please let the know if you need anything.”

“Okay.”

Steve gave your forehead a kiss before he got up and left. You went back to staring at the ceiling, letting yourself drown in the weight of it all.

next part >

[0zingt0n]

Oc has been created! (Still a work in progress, with the lore and coloring and such, but these are all the doodles I have—I’m just like way too excited to wait to post them💔)

This is Ellys (El-iss) Belmont! Most of their info I have to share is in the drawing…so here’s some details!

• Ellys is a newcomer, and goes by the stage name “Blue Lightning”

• You can’t tell because there’s no color, but they’re supposed to have a blue streak in the middle of their bangs that goes all the way down their hair

• Their attire is all blue (guess what their favorite color is), and there are lines on the sides of their tank top that connect to lines on the sides of their shorts…it makes a lightning bolt (you understand where the name came from now?)

• Ellys trains with their twin brother, who is the reason they box…

BOOM HE’S HERE TOO!!

Introducing Myles Belmont, Ellys’ twin brother! (“hey…twins in boxing..?” I know…so unoriginal…but there’s a twist!)

• Myles was originally supposed to be a boxer, but before his first match, he got performance anxiety and got sick, desperately begging Ellys to take his place

• Myles is the confident and extroverted twin (which made it surprising to Ellys that he chickened out before his fight), contrasting with Ellys’ naturally calm, self-reserved, and introverted personality

• Myles and Ellys get along really well! When they changed their names during their transitions, they wanted to match in a way (both names replace i’s with y’s)

• After Ellys won the fight as Myles’ sub, Myles was blown away with their skill. He tried to convince Ellys to keep boxing in his place. Ellys worried about revealing they weren’t actually Myles—because they were afraid that the WVBA wouldn’t allow a nonbinary boxer to fight the male boxers (turns out the rules are pretty loose, though…)—so they continued to fight under this “alter ego”

• Another one of their worries was that the audience wouldn’t like Ellys over Myles. Ellys had to put on a show to be their loud and outgoing brother, which was…kind of freeing. Ellys feared that if they went out there as themself, the fans would think they were weird. And strange. And awkward. And—

• While this charade was going on, the twins concocted a plan! Ellys would cut their hair shorter to look like Myles, and Myles would add a blue streak in his hair to look like Ellys (a fair trade, since they both loved their own hairstyles).

• Ellys would fight in the ring as Myles, while during interviews, Myles would just be himself! Ellys was too afraid to be on camera and mess up…but apparently Myles was just fine (oh. he must ENJOY the attention…even though he got sick due to stagefright…<hey it’s different okay? you don’t have to fight the guy interviewing you.>)

• The plan works well, aside from one crucial detail that obsessed reporters point out. Blue Lightning in the ring has a tooth gap, but not during interviews…what can this mean?

At some point, Ellys is tired of pretending to be Myles because they don’t want to pretend to be someone they’re not, and they’re afraid of getting caught and getting in trouble.

And also because Myles takes credit for everything during the interviews. Sure, that shouldn’t be a problem seeing as they look to be the same person, but deep down, Ellys wishes that was them in his place. They get into arguments over this, until finally one day Ellys impulsively reveals their identity. (Today is NOT that day, though!)

I stayed up until 2am drawing all of these. I had SO many ideas welling up inside of me…I’m glad I’m spilling them all finally😭

Anywho! If you want to ask any questions about them, feel free to send me some!! I’d love to annsswweerrr theeeemmmm!!!!!

[witchezandwonderz]

The Northman and the Noble

Summary: Ivar meets a Saxon woman, and things escalate very quickly. Request: Can you make no19 with Ivar 🥰 "You’re a great swordsman, but I’ve seen better charm from a rock." Word Count: 2.6k @leftoverp1zza @somebody6468 @cheesesandwichsanto Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.

Masterlist

Ivar adjusted his crutch with practiced ease, attempting to ignore the ache in his arms as he crossed the Saxon king’s hall. Though the attendees greeted him with forced smiles, their eyes betrayed their unease. Fear was something Ivar recognised easily; he’d seen it in the faces of his enemies for as long as he could remember.

He loves the way it tastes, but hates it all the same. Like most of his own emotions- he could not fathom why he felt things so differently and deeply.

He stood, wondering how he had ended up here. In an odd attempt to reach a ‘peaceful’ alliance, the king had offered for him and his men to stay there for a short while. He did not trust this.

The Saxon king’s voice droned on as he introduced the gathered nobles, speaking of alliances, truces, and terms that Ivar only half-listened to. He had become quite good at speaking the Saxon’s language- but that did not mean he wished to listen to all that they said. These men, cloaked in fine wool and adorned with gold, perched on their seats uncomfortably- suspicious, silent, waiting to see if the delicate peace would hold. Ivar gave a sharp grin. It wouldn’t.

Then she stepped into the hall.

She wasn’t introduced at first, just a figure moving through the crowd with the ease of someone who had grown up among kings and courtiers. Her gown was deep green, trimmed with golden embroidery, and her dark hair fell in loose waves over her shoulders. She carried herself with an elegance that made the other women in the hall seem like pale imitations.

Women did not catch Ivar’s attention often- especially women of Wessex.

But, she and her presence caught his attention.

As she walked through the hall, all attendees stood as a way of showing respect to her importance. She did not look at any of them though, she did not care. Her gaze stayed firmly in front of her. When she neared the front, she allowed her eyes to flicker to the left, and looked straight at Ivar, who stood watching her with a smirk on his face.

“Ivar.” The King Aethelred beamed, through a smile which Ivar thought was most definitely a facade. “This is my daughter, Y/N.”

The kings daughter gave Ivar a curt nod, and a small smile, before politely curtsying before him. Ivar watched as her body swiftly moved downwards, and then back up. He did not understand the odd formalities of these people.

"It is a pleasure to meet you" She smiled sweetly, but Ivar detected the sarcasm within her tone.

Ivar returned her nod, but found himself struggling for words on how to greet her. His embarrassment grew as he felt the stares of everyone watching.

“The pleasure is mine, my lady?” He finally spoke, not knowing how to greet her.

She giggled slightly, not being able to hide her amusement. She thought he was very handsome indeed.

“Please everyone, be seated, let us feast.” The king bellowed happily. “Ivar, come and sit with us, we can get to know each other more.”

Ivar was not usually one for small talk and false intentions, but knowing that he would be sitting with this curious girl, meant that he could at least try.

He moved toward the table, his steps deliberate and confident, the tap of his crutch against the stone floor echoing in the hall. The king’s daughter, Y/N, was already seated, her hands folded neatly in her lap. She didn’t spare him another glance until he lowered himself into the seat across from her. Only then did her gaze rise to meet his, her lips curved into a slight smile.

“I hear you are quite the warrior,” she said, her voice low enough that only he could hear. She tilted her head, watching him closely as if testing how he might respond.

Ivar leaned back in his chair, resting his hands on the arms as he studied her in return. “I suppose you’ve heard many things about me, Lady Y/N. Do they not also say I am a monster?” He wiggled his fingers in animated fashion, laughing and throwing a piece of meat into his mouth.

Her lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “Oh, I’ve heard that too. But I am just a woman after all, and we are taught to fear all north men" She spoke softly, amusement laced throughout her words and then raised her cup of wine, as if to cheers the air, before finishing the ruminants.

Her answer caught him off guard, and for a moment, he was at a loss. Most people either cowered before him or pretended to ignore him entirely. She was different—fearless in a way that didn’t feel like arrogance. It seemed as though she was also tired of peoples perceptions.

Before he could respond, the king, seated at the head of the table, raised his goblet to address the gathering.

“To new alliances,” Aethelred proclaimed. “May we find peace between our people and build a future free of bloodshed.”

The attendees murmured their agreement, though Ivar could feel the hesitation in their voices. He smirked, raising his own goblet in a mock toast. “To peace,” he said, his tone laced with sarcasm and his grin wide.

Y/N’s eyes flickered with amusement, though she said nothing, choosing instead to fill her cup up with more wine. While everybody that surrounded them began their conversations, Ivar leaned towards her, his chin resting on his hand.

"Your father's words amuse you?" He inquired, searching for her eye contact.

Y/N let out a small laugh, "Often." She stated, once again sipping her drink. "You really expect me to believe that you want peace?" She set her cup down, and mimicked Ivar's actions, leaning closer towards him. Ivar watched her, not knowing how to respond. He instead let out a dry chuckle, and turned his attentions to the man perched awkwardly next to him.

As the meal went on, Ivar found his attention drawn to her again and again. She spoke little, but when she did, it was with a quiet confidence that made the other women at the table seem dull by comparison. She laughed freely, unbothered by the tension in the air, and once or twice, he caught her glancing at him when she thought he wasn’t looking.

Towards the end of the meal, Ivar turned his attentions to her once again, "you are not what I expected." He stated.

Her smile didn’t waver, but something shifted in her gaze, “appearances can be deceiving, can they not?”

Ivar tilted his head, "I suppose so." He looked around to ensure that no one was listening, for if they were, he would be embarrassed, "is my appearance deceiving?"

Y/N let out a small giggle, not expecting the question. She thought for a moment, admittedly making her thinking time last longer in the attempts to put him on edge, slightly.

She leaned closer, her voice a low murmur meant only for him. “Your appearance?” she echoed, tilting her head slightly. “No, if anything, it’s too honest.”

Ivar’s brow furrowed, his lips curving into a faint smirk as he searched her face for the meaning behind her words. “What does that mean?"

Her gaze flicked over him, deliberate and slow. “That you are exactly as you seem. Strong. Unrelenting. Dangerous.” She paused, her lips curving into a teasing smile. “And too aware of how striking you are.”

The smirk on Ivar’s face grew wider, though there was a flicker of surprise in his eyes. He definitely was not accustomed to such directness, especially not from a woman. His cheeks flushed slightly. “Striking, you say?” he drawled, his tone laced with amusement. “And here I thought the Saxons found us northmen crude and barbaric.”

Y/N shrugged lightly, lifting her goblet and swirling the wine within. “Saxon men say that, yes.” She sipped her wine, her eyes never leaving his. "But we are not all the same."

Ivar leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table as he studied her. “And the men of your court? Are they not striking?”

Her smile widened, a flicker of mischief in her expression. “They try, bless them. But no, they are not. They’re too… polished. Polite.” Her hand raised to his cheek, where a scar sat, and her fingers gently traced it. "There’s something to be said for a man who doesn’t hide his battle scars, especially a man who has no use of his legs.”

Ivar’s chest swelled slightly at her words, though he quickly masked his reaction with a dry chuckle. “And here I thought Saxon women only cared for silk and gold,” he remarked, his tone light but his gaze sharp. She had not an idea of just how much her words meant to him- he had spent his whole life feeling less of a man because of his differences.

Removing her hand from his cheek, Y/N looked back into his eyes. “Silk and gold have their place. But they don’t inspire stories. They don’t linger in the mind long after the banquet is over.”

“And I do?” Ivar asked, his voice dropping low as he met her gaze head on.

Her smile softened, and for a moment, her playful demeanor gave way to something more thoughtful. “Perhaps,” she said simply, her voice quiet. "But I do think that it is unlikely I will forget this interaction."

Ivar leaned back in his chair, his smirk returning as he watched her. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Lady Y/N.”

She laughed softly, setting her goblet down with a quiet clink. “Am I?”

Before he could press her further, the king stood, signalling the end of the feast. Ivar rose reluctantly, his mind buzzing with questions about this enigmatic woman. He was not ready to leave the conversation yet.

As the hall emptied, Y/N lingered near the door. She glanced back at him, her expression unreadable, before slipping into the shadows of the corridor.

For the first time in years, Ivar felt something stir within him-something beyond the hunger for power or the thrill of battle. He had never understood his brothers strong attractions for women, but was now beginning to get an idea.

He watched her carefully- debating whether to follow or not.

Ivar hesitated, his fingers gripping the edge of the table as he watched Y/N vanish into the corridor. The decision to follow her felt both impulsive and ridiculous, yet he couldn’t ignore the pull she had on him.

With a sharp breath, and a quick curse, he adjusted his crutch and rose to his feet, looking around to see if anyone was watching him before making his way towards the corridor that she had disappeared into.

The corridor was dimly lit, the flickering torches casting long shadows on the stone walls. He moved with purpose, his steps quick despite the ache in his arms. He caught sight of her just as she turned a corner, her gown swaying with each step.

“Lady Y/N,” he called out, his voice low but commanding.

She paused, glancing over her shoulder with a raised brow, smirking as she did so.

“You followed,” she said, turning fully to face him. Her tone was not one of surprise, but rather amusement, as if she had expected nothing less.

Ivar stopped a few paces away, his sharp blue eyes locking onto hers. “You walked away without saying goodbye. Where I come from, that is considered rude.”

Her laughter was soft, echoing in the empty corridor. “And where I come from, following a lady into the shadows is considered… unkempt and quite bold."

He smirked, tilting his head as he studied her. “Even when I know that the lady wants to be followed?"

Y/N crossed her arms loosely, leaning against the cold stone wall. Ivar pressed one hand onto the wall, next to her head, leaning closer to her.

"And why would you think that?" She asked softly, her eyes flickering to his hand as he pressed closer.

“I suppose my charm was just too much." He grinned, half jesting and half serious.

She looked up at him, her smirk solidified. "Oh, Ivar, You’re a great swordsman, but I’ve seen better charm from a rock."

He leaned closer, the distance between them becoming smaller and smaller. "Is that so?" He whispered.

Before she could respond, his hand moved to her hair, threading his fingers through her dark locks with a surprising gentleness. Slowly, he pulled a strand to his lips, brushing it gently before letting it fall back against her shoulder.

Her breath hitched, her chest rising and falling in rhythm with the quickening pace of her heart. His hand trailed from her hair to her jawline, as he traced it gently. She didn’t move, rooted in place by the way his piercing blue eyes bore into hers, filled with a hunger she hadn’t expected, but absolutely wanted nonetheless.

He leaned in further, his lips ghosting over the sensitive skin just below her ear. His breath was warm, in turn making her shiver, a soft sound escaping her lips- half gasp, half moan.

“You’re trembling,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, the words vibrating against her skin.

Y/N bit her lip, her head tilting slightly to the side, begging him to continue. His lips finally brushed against her neck, making her breath hitch and causing another quiet moan to escape her.

His hand slid from her jaw to the nape of her neck, holding her there.

He pressed a kiss just below her ear, his breath lingering against her exposed skin. Despite her slight embarrassment, she couldn’t suppress her obvious pleasure. Not being able to control herself any longer, her hands reached for the back of his neck, with a force that she hadn't intended, exposing her desperation. Without a second thought, she pulled him towards her, crashing her lips onto his in a hungry and desperate kiss.

Ivar suddenly broke the intimacy, using his force to pull her back by her hair and look into her eyes.

“Ivar…” she breathed, her voice shaky and unsteady.

The sound of his name on her lips seemed to ignite something in him. His mouth moved lower, leaving a trail of slow, deliberate kisses along her neck, each one drawing another soft moan from her. Her nails dug into his chest, and he smirked against her skin, clearly pleased by her reaction.

Her breath was ragged now, her body pressing against his as if seeking more, despite the unspoken tension in the air. His lips returned to just beneath her ear, his voice a low growl.

“Tell me to stop,” he said, his breath warm against her skin, though his hands and mouth continued their exploration.

"No way in hell." She quickly responded, causing him to chuckle before reattaching himself to her neck.

She let her head fall back against the wall, her eyes closing as another moan escaped her lips.

A loud crash rang out from up the hall, causing both of them to tear away from one another. She stood, panicked, her lips swollen, and her cheeks a deep shade of crimson. Her hair, now messy from the events.

Y/N smoothed her dress, attempting to steady her breath and straighten her appearance.

The sound of footsteps grew closer, and Ivar instinctively shifted, positioning himself to block her partially from view. She placed a hand on his chest, steadying him, a silent plea for calm.

“We’ll continue this... conversation later,” he murmured, his tone promising and filled with intent. "I will see you again, won't I?"

Y/N’s lips quirked into a subtle smirk, her gaze meeting his once again. She leaned up, planting one last lingering kiss.

"Ivar, when I claim something as mine, I do not let it go. I hope you know what I mean by that." She stated, a sweet smile on her face, but determination in her eyes.

Ivar listened to her words carefully, pleased by them. He thought that he was a possessive person, but the passion laced within her tone told him that he may have met his match.

"Y/N, regardless of what happens between us and the Saxons, you must understand that when I claim something as mine, no one takes it from me, or they pay a price."

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

Likes, reblogs and comments are unbelievably appreciated. TLK fandom, I have not forgotten you! My next two fic's are Sigtryggr x reader and Finan x reader <3

[skrunksthatwunk]

Not Only is he a bisexual icon but he also Cannot stop framing his demonic encounters as dubiously romantic without anyone or anything prompting him to

[crowsofdarkness]

Soldat: Chapter Seven

-gif not mine. credit to owner-

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Agent! Reader. Slight Steve Rogers x Female Agent! Reader

Content Warnings: language, 18 + implied smut, angst, fluff, kidnapping, violence.

Summary: Agent Y/N has worked alongside Steve Rogers at SHIELD for some time all while keeping a dark secret from everyone. Until one day that darkness faces her head on and she's forced to make a choice. Continue fighting along side Captain America? Or find her home once again with Soldat?

Authors Note: This was originally published on my old blog as a trilogy so I will be in the slow process of adding it to this blog. This is the first of the trilogy and will take place during The Winter Soldier. If anyone is interested in being tagged, let me know!

Very slight implied smut in this chapter, very tame. Also, there are three chapters left! Once Soldat is complete, I will begin posting the next in the series.

Tags: @globetrotter28 @sakuracyberhex @chinggay85-blog @bookofriverr @misatxox @that-blonde-girl

Soldat Masterlist

Day One 

Eyes fluttered open softly, allowing the light to blind me for a few seconds as I stared up at the crackling ceiling. I followed the lines, hoping that it would lead me to an idea where I was but came up empty as I realized I was in a room with no windows, one door, and the lone cot I was currently laying on. My heart thumped in fear as I tried to remember how I ended up here. 

I was drinking in a bar in Siberia as I was going over my notes for the local terrorist group I was following. I was alone for most of the night until a strange man came up beside me, gun pressed to my side, muttering in my ear that I had to go with him or else.

The last thing I could remember was getting thrown into the back of a van and darkness. The watch on my wrist indicated that happened..

Sixteen hours ago?!

“What the fuck happened to me?” I groaned, clutching my forehead. 

The door clicked open, men dressed in European military uniforms catching my immediate attention. 

“Where am I?” I spoke in the native tongue. 

They ignored me, continuing on with their own conversation and paid no attention as they stood guard at the door, guns slightly drawn. 

Discreetly, I slid my hand down my calf trying to feel if the knife I stashed into my boot was still there. 

“You think we would leave you with a weapon?”

A small man entered the room now, glasses perched high on his nose. He gently removed his hat, handing it to one of the guards before sitting on a chair in front of my cot. 

“Who are you?” I questioned. 

He merely tsk’d before pulling a grey folder from his briefcase. “Y/N L/N. You’ve been an agent with the FBI for almost two years now and you’ve only been on one case. Why is that?” 

“Is that a file on me?” My eyes landed on the file.

“You were on New York SWAT for three years before this but had to leave for ‘different opinions’ pertaining to a rather personal case.” 

“That’s no one's business but my own,” I snapped. “You shouldn’t even have that information.” 

“I’m a very powerful man, Ms. L/N. I have many ways to get the information I want. Just like how you got info about me.” 

“Am I supposed to know who you are?” I squinted my eyes at him. 

“You’ve been looking for me for the last six months. I thought we could finally meet.” He gave me a small smile. 

“Wait,” my eyes widened. “You’re Dr. Zola? I thought you were dead. That’s why it’s been so hard to find you.” 

The older gentleman clicked his tongue against his teeth. “No, not Zola. But his apprentice. You can call me Dr. Berge” 

“Why did you kidnap me? To shut me up?” I crossed my arms over my chest, foot shaking with nerves. 

Dr. Berge handed one of the guards the folder before shaking his head. “Our last student didn’t make it. We needed someone new.” 

“Stu-student?” I stuttered. 

“Yes, for Soldat.” Bergenodded. 

“Soldat?” 

He answered my question with a wave; a new man entered the small room. My tired eyes raked in his appearance from head to toe. He was dressed in combat boots and black cargo pants. His broad chest was covered in a black vest, various pockets that held God only knew what, his long brown hair was falling into his eyes but did nothing to fix it. The only thing that held my gaze, however, was his left arm. It wasn’t like his right; this one was made entirely of metal. 

“Who’s this?” I questioned, voice shaking with fear. 

“Ah Soldat, meet your new student. Hopefully she’ll last longer than the last one.” Berge clapped his hands before leaving the room. 

Soldat remained in place, a few feet away from me, and he slowly nodded to the guards. 

“Leave us,” he demanded in Russian. 

Suddenly, it was just him and I, my fear being the only thing you could feel in the room by my heart beating faster and faster. 

“What am I your student for?” I mustered to ask. 

“To fight.”

Day 23 

“I need a minute,” I gasped for air as I tried to gain some space. 

“You don’t have a minute.” Soldat reminded me as he flipped me over his shoulder, my own falling hard to the mat below. 

It had been a hell of a couple of weeks. I had been captured by who I had come to find was the terrorist group I had been searching for; Hydra. 

Every morning and night, Soldat would come to my room and train me for hours, fighting non stop. I had yet to find out why I was being trained to fight. 

Soldat barely said a word to me during these training sessions. He was instructed to train me not to make small talk. I couldn’t get a read on him, what his story was or how he ended up here. 

“Mother fucker,” I cursed, clutching my shoulder. “I think it’s dislocated.” 

Soldat remained silent, roughly pulling me to my feet and snapped my arm back into place causing a scream to erupt from my throat. 

“That’s enough!” I screamed pushing my palms into his chest. “I’m done! No one has told me why I’m here, getting my ass kicked by a guy with a fucking metal arm!” 

A small smile pulled at his lips and all the anger from being held captive here built up causing me to bring my hand back, wiping that smile off his face with my fist. 

Regret filled me when I saw the quick flash of anger cloud his eyes but his deep laugh relaxed my shoulders a tad. 

“That’s more like it.” He muttered while rubbing his jaw. 

“I already know how to fight. I don’t need someone to teach me,” I admitted, fists clenched at my sides. 

Soldat nodded. “Then next time should be easy for you.” 

Day 37

The chill in the air caused me to wrap the blanket closer to me as I dug myself deeper into the bed that I started calling my own. I was unsure of the time but the tiredness in my bones made me believe it was time to let sleep succumb to me. 

A soft sigh left my lips as my mind wandered yet again to the man that had been clouding it the past few weeks. 

It had been almost two weeks since my last training session with Soldat. He stopped coming by in the mornings and nights which made me wonder if our sessions were over and what that meant for me. 

That thought was short-lived when Berge brought in someone else to train me. He didn’t want me to forget anything while Soldat was away. 

Rumor had it, Hydra sent him away from some mission. 

Besides the one old guard that would bring my food twice a day, Soldat was the only constant thing in this prison that had become my home. 

Heavy eyes fluttered shut, breaths becoming deeper and heavier and the long awaited sleep was so close. But the door to my room slamming open caused my eyes to snap open and I pushed myself to my knees. I watched as Soldat entered, anger clear on his face. 

“Where have you-.” 

The air to my lungs was constricted as Soldat wrapped his metal fingers around my throat, slamming me deeper into the cot. 

I trashed against his body, nails digging into the skin of his flesh arm, not bothering him an inch. I racked my brain for all the training he had taught me to try and get out of this. I attempted to wrap my legs around his waist to flip him but he was two seconds ahead of me, his flesh hand pining my hips down onto the bed. 

My body began to sweat with the fear of what was about to come. 

I wrapped a hand around his metal wrist as I looked into his eyes, the light far gone from them. 

“Soldat,” I choked out. 

The air suddenly rushed back into my lungs causing me to cough uncontrollably as he finally let go, the bruises already starting to form I was sure. 

His hand and hips kept me locked into place on the bed and his other hand gripped my chin, forcing me to look in his eyes. 

“You only train with me. No one else can have you.” His voice demanded through gritted teeth. 

Once I could breathe again, I gave him a sorrowful nod. “I’m sorry.” 

We stayed in this position for a few more beats, his hips locking mine into place while his eyes bore into my own. His chest rose and fell with each breath, mimicking my own in the small tank top I wore; it was one of the few clothes that Hydra had lent me. 

Soldat’s eyes traveled over the swell of my breasts and I felt the heat spread down to my core as he slowly ran his tongue over his bottom lip. 

“Get some sleep. We’re starting early tomorrow,” he breathed before pushing himself off of me. 

The room had a sudden chill to it as soon as he left the room and after wrapping myself into a cocoon with my blanket, I found myself falling asleep wishing it was his arms

Day 56

Chains dragged behind me as I followed the path the two guards were leading me on. We turned a corner and continued down another long hallway. They had dragged me out of bed this morning, muttering something about getting some “fresh air”. 

I chuckled at their definition of fresh air; it was a small sunroom with a few potted plants and one large bench seat. Thankfully the bright sunlight beamed through the glass windows, spreading warmth into my skin. 

“Ten minutes,” one of the guards demanded while tossing me a book. 

They took their post on the outside of the door, backs turned to me, and I opted for not reading the book deciding I would rather stare out of the windows. This was the first time in almost two months that I had been granted access to the outside world. 

Sort of. 

The beautiful images of mountains scattered the skyline, the fresh snow blowing in the wind. I walked closer to the windows, peering down below and that was when I realized I was high up. 

Wherever I was being held captive was on top of a mountain. 

“Beautiful.” 

Jumping at the deep voice, I looked over my shoulder and a small smile came to my face. 

“Soldat, you’ve returned.” 

He nodded, tucking a strand of hair out of his face. “I returned last night.” 

“How was your mission?” 

His silence was enough of an answer I needed. 

“Have you been training?” He questioned, still keeping a safe distance between us. 

Immediately I shook my head, the chains rattling. “They won’t let me while you're away. You’re the only one I can train with.”

Soldat turned his head, eyes taking in the appearance of the chains around my wrists and ankles. A scowl appeared underneath the stubble covering his mouth and he beckoned me over with a finger. 

Swallowing thickly, I tried the best I could to walk over to him, feet coming to a halt in front of him. He gripped the chains with his metal fingers, breaking them off of me with ease. 

“You’re not a monster,” he muttered. 

I rubbed away the red marks on my wrists while giving him a smile of thanks. “What will happen to you once they find out?”

“You should get some rest, we have a big training session tomorrow.” Soldat spoke, ignoring my question. 

I wondered with fear what exactly they would do to him. Every time he would arrive back from a mission, his screams would echo through the base, keeping me awake at night. I yearned to be with him, comfort him. He was the only constant in my life now, I would do anything to be with him; to keep him from pain. 

“Will you sit with me?” I nodded to the bench. “We don’t need to talk, just your company is enough.” 

His body tensed, a bit hesitant, before he nodded and we both sat down with our knees a few spaces away from each other. I reached for the book and felt his gaze burn deep into the side of my head as I quietly read the pages, Russian almost becoming a second language to me. 

We sat in silence, Soldat’s eyes watching me as I carefully turned the pages of the book, enjoying the quiet company of the man who would scare others. 

“Soldat, do you know what this word is? I haven’t come across this one yet.” 

I pointed towards a word in the book that was giving me trouble and felt the heat radiate off of him as he leaned closer to me, his shoulder brushing against my own. 

“Dorogaya. It means my darling.” 

My core twitched at the Russian translation and I coughed, trying to mask my arousal. “Thank you.” 

“Dorogaya,” he repeated, this time more quietly to himself. 

Day 85

“Faster! Harder!”

I let the screams of slight encouragement fuel me as I landed my fists into Soldat’s bare stomach, the force behind my punches doing nothing to phase him. 

He reached for my neck but I swiftly ducked while spinning on my heels, tripping him in the process. Soldat landed hard on his back, the wind being knocked out of him, and I straddled his hips with my own, my hands pinning his own above his head. 

Our breaths matched in sync, eyes boring into each other, and the sight of the smirk on his face made my heart nearly burst out of its cage. 

“I win,” I breathed, my breath fanning over his bare chest. 

My fingers itched want to run all over his grooves and muscles. Resisting the urge, I released my grip on his hands but felt the world turn as Soldat gripped my hips, slamming me on my back. His dark eyes stared down at mine, tongue rolling antagonizing slowly between his lips. He leaned closer to my own, his warm breath breathing life into me. 

“I let you win.” 

“Oh really,” I cheekily asked, a flirtatious smirk pulling at my lips. 

Soldat nodded with his nose brushing against my own. “Of course, dorogaya.” 

My heart fluttered at the pet name he had given me. Ever since our time in the sun room together, we had slowly started becoming closer with each and every training session. I was, however, afraid to take it farther than our flirtatious comments and soft touches. I wouldn’t allow him to get in trouble, or worse; hurt. Just because of how I felt about him. 

His metal fingers traced down from my cheek to my neck and rested above the lines of my breasts. My breath became erratic when the lightly brushed over my left nipple, perky already due to the coldness of the building. Fingers dug through his locks and gave a slight tug causing a groan to vibrate low in Soldat’s chest. 

“Are you leaving again?” I asked. 

He shook his head while palming my breast and I allowed a moan to slip through my lips.

“I told them no more missions until our training is done,” He spoke low. 

I nodded. 

“We really should stop. Before they find us.” I stuttered, not wanting him to stop kneading my breast with his hand. 

“Let them, they can’t do anything to hurt me that they haven’t done before,” Soldat breathed into the skin of my neck. 

He nipped and sucked there, leaving his mark to show the others here who I belonged to. My hands ran down the thickness of his back and I pressed my hips up into his, a loud hiss breaking its way out of his throat. 

“Dorogaya,” Soldat moaned. 

My fingers traced up his back, slowly fading over where his skin met metal. His body tensed, the lust in the air immediately dissipating as he pushed his body off of me. I was left alone on the dirty floor of my room as I watched him grab his shirt, throwing it over his chest. 

“Did I do something?” I questioned, sitting to my knees. 

“I need to go,” he grunted. 

“Soldat,” I stood to my feet now, “Please tell me if I did something!” 

He ignored my cries of wonder, letting the door slam behind him and drowning out my quiet sobs. 

Day 124

No more training sessions. 

Berge had told me that I was done training with Soldat. He had too many missions to go on and not enough time to give to me. Doubt racked my brain if that was truly the reason why they wouldn’t allow him to train me anymore. They must have found out about us. 

I couldn’t dwell on it for long, Berge assigned another guard to my training. He wasn’t anything compared to Soldat; he was quiet and wouldn’t allow me the chance to improve. Only wanting to show off his strength. We had moved the training sessions in the main area of the compound, in front of every eye. But the only eyes that mattered were the ones that I wanted approval of. 

Soldat would watch from a distance, not bothering to step in when the new trainer would hit me a little too hard. I wouldn’t let that phase me, though. I gave it back a hundred times harder which would only anger him more. 

Which is how I ended up sporting a black eye for the last week. 

Soldat almost stepped in when the new trainers hand grazed lower and lower from my back with each session. Earlier today, we had been sparring in front of all of the other guards and I did my best to ignore their gawks of stares as I attempted to land a strike to his stomach. He was a step ahead of me, twisting my wrist behind my back and pulling me into his chest. I felt his rapid breathing against my back as he leaned his lips against my ear. 

“I love the way your ass fits against me,” He groaned. 

I knew if I tried anything he would twist my arm higher up so I stood frozen in fear while my eyes traveled to the man in the corner, giving him silent pleads for help. 

Soldat turned his back on me. 

After the sparring session, I retreated back to my room, a broken woman. My ego was hurt that I had succumbed so low to these beatings in front of other men. My heart was broken that the one man I had fallen hard for wanted nothing to do with me.

A soft groan left my lips as I stared out into the darkness of the room, sleep being the farthest thing from my mind. 

“God, Y/N you’ve got to move on from him,” I ran a hand over my face with a very unattractive groan leaving my lips. 

“Talking to yourself again?” 

Sitting up in bed, I turned on the bedside lamp and made out a large silhouette standing by the door. But even in the soft darkness, the metal arm was hard to miss. 

“What are you doing here?” I questioned. 

Soldat stepped closer, stopping at the foot of my bed. “I’ve come to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye?” My voice shook with fear. 

I then noticed he was dressed in his tac gear which meant only one thing. 

“You’re going on a mission?” 

He nodded. “I’ll be back by tomorrow night.” 

Pulling my knees to my chest, I raised my brow at him. “You’ve never said goodbye before.”

“I wanted to see you.” He gave a small shrug of his broad shoulders. 

“Oh,” I mouthed.

I allowed silence to overcome us as we both stared at one another, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. My palms began to sweat seeing the fire behind his eyes and I absentmindedly bit my lip. 

Soldat ran a hand through his hair before a quiet fuck it slipped from his lips. He kicked off his boots before crawling his way towards me on the bed. 

“What are you doing?” I asked. 

He ignored my question, only rolling onto his back while pulling me into his chest and his arms wrapping around me. The rapid beating of his heart told me that he was nervous but still kept his arms tightly around me. 

“I’ve been on hundreds of missions but now,” Soldat started, “Now, I’m worried about leaving you. With them.” 

“I’ll be fine. You’ve taught me well.” I gave his sides a small squeeze. 

“I’ve never felt this way before. It’s all new to me.” He admitted. 

“What is?” 

Instead of using words, Soldat’s fingers grazed my chin and pulled my face up to look into his eyes. He took a deep breath before he gently placed his plump lips over mine. The hairs on his chin and face tickled me as our lips moved slowly in sync. 

My heart thumped through its cage in my chest as I ran my fingers through his hair, deepening the kiss. His own hands found their way over my stomach, down to my core and slowly ghosted over it. 

“Soldat, please.” I moaned. 

“You’re mine.” He grunted, fingers finally touching my heated core over my shorts. “All mine.” 

“Only yours, I promise.” 

My breath hitched in my throat when I felt the heat of his fingers against the skin of my stomach, brushing over the waistband of my shorts. While his flesh ones worked with the ties of my shorts, his metal one pulled the ends of my hair, forcing my eyes away from his work on my shorts. 

“I’ll come back to you.” He vowed. 

I nodded. 

“I know you will and I’ll be here waiting for you. Always.” 

Soldat brushed his lips against mine, tongue delving between my lips and danced with my own as the kiss intensified. 

“I have to go.” He groaned against me. 

“Stay.” I begged, clutching onto his arms. 

“It’s my mission.” 

Pulling away reluctantly, I gripped his chin and stared into his eyes. “Please be safe.” 

“Of course, dorogaya.” 

Day 131

Seven days. 

One week. 

168 hours. 

That’s how long it had been since I last saw Soldat. 

He had yet to return from his mission and what originally was supposed to be a one night mission turned into one week. 

I sat on the edge of my cot with my knee bouncing in worry as I chewed roughly on my bottom lip. I feared that Berge had found out about Soldat and I, which was the reason why he had yet to return. 

“Where the hell are you?” I muttered. 

I waited a little while longer, eyes trained hard on the door, hoping that he would bust through any moment. But after a few minutes of nothingness, I turned my back to the door only for it to open a second later. 

“Come with me.” 

My eyes squinted towards the guard, confusion well on my face. “Where are you taking me? I haven’t left in a whole week.” 

“Soldat’s orders.” The guard ordered. 

My heart rate sped up at the mention of his name. “Is he back?” 

“No but he’s requested that you stay in his living quarters now.” 

“Wh-what? Why?” I sputtered. 

“As a reward for completing his mission. Come now.” 

The guard quickly waved me to follow and not wanting to live another minute in this tiny hell, I scrambled to my feet and followed. Not bothering to take anything with me, I tracked close behind the guard as we turned a few more corners, coming to a stop at a lone door at the end of the hallway. 

The guard grunted towards the door before leaving me alone, my steady breaths coming in and out of my nose as I took a second to gain my bearings. In the months that I had been held captive here, I had never seen Soldat’s room; or anything else besides my room, the sparing center, and the “outside” room I was allowed to sit in every few days. 

My hand gently grasped the cold knob and taking one last breath, I slowly pushed the door open. Before my feet crossed the threshold, I gazed around the room taking in every inch of Soldat’s private space. 

It wasn’t big by any means, it would definitely be crowded with the two of us, however it warmed my heart knowing that we would be sharing that bed together. The bed was only made for one and was even small for Soldat. 

Next to the bed was a table that mirrored the one I had in my room. On the top of the table rested a small lamp and a book that looked like it was read ten times over. On the other side of the room was a small dresser that had more books resting on it and next to the dresser was a door that led to somewhere I was unsure of. The large window on one wall allowed the sunset to stream in, painting the entire room in a golden light. 

My gaze rested on a pair of clothes that were neatly folded on the chair in the other corner of the room. Taking a breath, I crossed over the threshold into Soldat’s room and grasped the pair of clean clothes in my hands. It was only a new pair of jeans, underwear, and a long sleeve shirt but the soft fabric was enough to bring me to tears. I had only been given new clothes once since being here and that was the first night. 

“It’s not much but it’s home.” 

Jumping at the deep voice, I turned on my heels and felt my heart leap to my throat. Soldat stood at the doorway, his body a clear indication of the toll the mission put on him. Stray hairs had fallen from the low bun he had pulled them in, the lines on his face screamed that he hadn’t slept in days, and his tac gear was covered in dirt and blood, the blood had also covered his metal arm in streams. Fear raked my body, wondering whose blood was all over Soldat and I bit my lip to stop from asking. 

“You’re back,” I breathed. 

He remained silent, his intense gaze taking over my body. His body tensed when he fell on my lips, the sight of the two cuts burning into his brain. 

“What happened?” 

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I shifted on my feet. “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.” 

“What happened?” Soldat questioned again, this time closing the distance between us. 

Metal fingers gripped my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes as they danced over my face. Anger flashed across them when the soft words left my busted lips. 

“Ben didn’t appreciate getting beat by a girl.” 

“What did he do?” Soldat demanded. 

“He just hit me a little too hard. I’m fine, Soldat.” I reassured him as I gripped his flesh arm. 

The anger still flooded his veins and I linked my fingers with his metal ones, fearing he would leave me and do something we would both regret. 

“You need to get yourself cleaned up,” I encouraged. 

Soldat was still silent, only giving me a small nod as he pulled me with him towards the closed door. 

“What?” I questioned. 

“You need a bath.” He demanded. 

Licking my lips, I let the fear of him seeing my bare flesh push away the thoughts of us in the bath together.

“No, you can go first Soldat. The blood is going to take awhile to clean.” I lied, hoping that would keep the thought of us naked together out of his head. 

I was afraid of what he would think when he saw the bruises and scars that covered my body. 

His eyes hardened, seeing right through my lies, as he gripped my arm causing a loud hiss to pass through my lips. 

“Fuck,” I cursed pulling my arm to my chest. 

He didn’t grip me that hard, I knew that. It only hurt because of the bruise that covered half of my forearm. 

“Take off your shirt.” 

The soles of my shoes were frozen to my spot, being weighed down with the fear of what Soldat was about to see.

“Sol-.” I started. 

“Take it off,” his voice was deeper and rougher. 

Gnawing on my bottom lip, shaky fingers gripped the bottom of my shirt, slowly raising it over my stomach and head, letting it fall to the floor in silence. Instinctively my arms wrapped around my chest, trying to cover as much as I could. Soldat didn’t make me uncomfortable; the idea of showing him my battle scars is what did. 

His dark eyes were now almost black as he looked over my bareness of flesh, taking in every inch of bruises and new scars that had yet to heal over my stomach, chest, and arms. The blood had dried hours ago but the exhaustion of today’s training had stopped me from cleaning my wounds. 

My mouth dried with the intensity radiating from Soldat’s body. 

“We-uh, Ben decided to start the knife training today. He wouldn’t let me get a chance to prove myself. He kept stabbing and slicing,” I admitted quietly. 

Soldat's tongue grazed over his bottom lip and nodded to the door behind me. “We need to clean those wounds.” 

“Are you upset?” 

The tone in his voice answered my question before I even asked it but I needed to make sure he wouldn’t leave, do something stupid. 

He remained silent, beckoning me to follow him with a snap of his head. Obeying with a soft sigh, I trailed behind him into the bathroom that was connected to his room. The soft breeze coming from the vents caused me to wrap my arms around my bare chest, trying to keep the warmth in. I could see the way Soldat’s muscles in his back tensed as he leaned over, running hot water and letting it fill the tub. The steam danced around his head as he peeked over his shoulder, nodding towards my pants. 

The silence was thickening and my fingers gripped the top of my pants, slowly pulling them down my legs; the new visions of bruises and scars clouding Soldat’s vision. The only thing keeping me from bearing it all to him was a thin piece of fabric. Soldat turned on his knees, face inches from my core, and goosebumps rose to my skin as I felt his finger slide my underwear down over my knees and I stepped out of them. He tossed them to the side while keeping his eyes trained hard on me as he looked up into my own. 

“Get in.” Soldat’s flesh fingers tapped the back of my thigh, his warm breath brushing against my heated core. 

The water immediately eased the sore muscles and wounds as I submerged myself, pulling my knees to my chest. Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see Soldat stripping himself of his own clothes before I felt the water slosh behind me. Metal fingers wrapped around my middle pulling me into a hard chest. We sat in silence as he first cleaned me then him. 

“I should have been here,” his words mumbled against the skin of my shoulder as he pressed a soft kiss there. 

“You needed to go on your mission.” I reminded him. 

“I will kill him.” He vowed. 

I hushed him with a soft squeeze of his thigh, fingers resting easily over the mass of them. “I’ll be alright.” 

“You’re coming with me on the next mission.” 

I smiled at the softness in his voice. 

“I don’t think Berge will like that.” I admitted. 

Soldat took a damp cloth to my legs and stomach, cleaning the wounds with soft touches. 

“They can kill me to try and stop me.” Soldat deadpanned. 

I opened my mouth to protest but he silenced me with a kiss to my forehead, whispering promises of him saving me, protecting me, no matter what the cost will be. 

“I missed you, dorogaya.”Soldat breathed, his cock hardening against the small of my back. 

“I missed you too,” I moaned. 

His fingers grazed over my core underneath the water, rubbing circles over my clit. His lips attached to my neck, leaving his mark for all to see. 

“I need you.” 

The water splashed out of the tub as Soldat lifted me out and carried me bridal style into his bedroom. I fell to the bed with a soft sigh and my eyes took in the God-like form of Soldat, his dick twitching with anticipation. I took in every groove and line of his muscles, the way they tensed under the light as he stood in front of me. 

“Soldat,” I begged, “I can’t wait anymore.” 

“Say your mine.” He commanded. 

“I’m yours.” 

“Good girl,” Soldat praised while his metal fingers stroked his already hard cock. 

He slowly climbed up the bed, laying soft kisses over the skin of my legs and thighs on his way up. My body shook with the want of his body on mine, skin on skin underneath the moonlight from outside. 

That night, our bodies linked together in pure bliss and adoration for one another. Our moans that bounced off the walls were a proclamation of our growing love for each other. 

That night was the first and last time Soldat and I made love.

 Day 132-The last day. 

Eyes slowly blinked open as I patted the spot next to me, finding it empty and cold. My brows pulled together in confusion as I looked around the room trying to figure out where Soldat had gone. I groaned at the soreness between my legs as I sat up in bed, clutching the sheet tighter to my chest. The memories of last night clouded my vision and my cheeks reddened remembering all the ways Soldat’s fingers and mouth had pleasured me. 

The door had burst open causing me to jump at the sight of the man that had entered. 

“Where did you–?” 

“You have to go; leave.” Soldat rushed while handing me my clothes. 

“What?” Tears started to well up in my eyes. 

“You need to leave, now. It’s not safe for you anymore.” Soldat demanded. 

Rising from the bed, I let the sheet fall to the floor before quickly dressing. 

“What are you talking about?” 

Soldat ran a hand over his tired face before a loud sigh left his lips. “Berge has plans for you that I will not let happen. You need to leave here.” 

“Plans?” I croaked. “What plans?” 

“There’s a door on the other end of the compound that I always leave through to go on my missions. I left it unlocked last night. Once you’re outside, run west for 5 miles. There will be a gas station where you can call for a ride.” 

Soldat ignored my questioning pleads as he handed me a pair of his boots and a jacket to keep me warm once I was outside. 

“No, Soldat. I’m not leaving you.” 

“It’s not up for discussion. You’re leaving.” He demanded. 

“I won’t leave you. I love-.”

My confession was short lived as we heard voices yelling from down the hallway. Soldat cursed before pulling me into his chest. His plump lips brushed against my forehead while his hands wrapped around my back, giving a hard squeeze. My fingers gripped tight his vest, the fear of leaving him weighing heavy on my chest. 

“I can’t leave you, Soldat.” I confessed. 

“Wait ten minutes then take a left at the end of the hallway, the door to your escape will be the last one on the left.” 

Soldat pulled away from me, strong eyes staring into my sad ones. His pink lips stood out from underneath the stubble that had grown since the last time I had seen him. I unknowingly reached out for him as he took a step away from me. 

“Soldat,” I sobbed. “Please don’t make me leave.” 

“Stay safe, Dorogaya.”  

We shared one last loving glance before I watched him turn his back on me, walk down the hall and out of my life. 

Those ten minutes had passed by antagonizing slowly and now matter how much I wanted to stay here with Soldat, I knew that he was looking out for my safety. We both knew the kind of man Berge was and if whatever he had planned for me scared even Soldat, I knew I had to trust him. 

Regretfully, my feet took me down the way that Soldat had instructed me. They froze, however, when I noticed commotion coming from the room to my left; the one I had to pass in order for me to reach my freedom. 

“Get him in the chair!” 

“Sir, it’s been months since we’ve wiped him. We don’t know the risks!” 

“I don’t care about the risks! He needs to forget her!” 

Slowly peeking from around the corner, I watched in fear as four men struggled to get Soldat in a chair that sat in the middle of the room. No matter how much he had fought the men, Soldat gave up in the end, falling into the chair with a groan. 

When his broken eyes landed on me, his chest rose in fear and he motioned to the door, begging me to leave. 

“I’m sorry,” I mouthed. 

Not wanting to stick around and see what they were about to do to him, no matter how much I loved him, I ran down the hallway and out of the prison I had called home for the last 132 days. And away from the one and only man that would haunt my dreams every single night for the next three years.