#Information Retrieval Assignment Help

[helaintoloki]

Safe Space

pairing: avenger!Bucky Barnes x avenger!reader

warnings/notes: themes of ptsd and trauma, violence, mentions of torture, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff

a/n: another request piece that was sent in! this took me a while to come up with but i hope you enjoy !

summary: you struggle to return to a life of normalcy after being kidnapped, but Bucky is there to help you pick up the pieces

The morning sunlight that bleeds through the curtains rouses Bucky from his sleep, and the first thing he is greeted with is your loving smile as you gently push his hair back from his face.

“Happy birthday, Sarge,” you coo softly before pressing a kiss to his cheek. Bucky hums tiredly as he stretches out his limbs and shifts to face you in bed.

“Is that today?” He prompts groggily while pulling you into his arms.

“Same day as it was last year, I’m afraid,” you tease softly, giggling at the way he playfully nips your neck in response to your sarcasm.

“Can’t we just treat it like a normal day and stay in bed?” Bucky groans into your neck, relishing in the feel of your warmth against his skin.

“And miss the birthday party Steve worked so hard to put together for you?” You reprimand him with a raised brow. “Not a chance.”

A small huff of amusement leaves Bucky at your comment. After everything he’d been through and all the years he’d lost, he never once thought it necessary to celebrate the time of passage marked by his birthday. Why bother when he’d already missed so many of them? But then he met you, and suddenly Bucky had a reason to look forward to each new day with you by his side. You were patient and understanding of all he’d been through, you never pushed him to do anything he didn’t want to, and you gave him the courage to take charge of his new start as an Avenger.

“Just give me ten more minutes with you and I’ll get up,” he promises, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head as he cradles you against his chest. You hum appreciatively at the gesture and entangle your limbs with his own.

“Anything you want,” you murmur, already feeling yourself being lulled back to sleep. “I love you, James.”

“I love you, y/n. More than you could ever imagine.”

Bucky’s solemn gaze has been glued to your photo in his hand ever since Steve took over piloting the quinjet. The edges of the polaroid are frayed from being kept in his vest pocket, but your face remains unscathed and allows your permanently etched smile to haunt his every waking moment.

You’ve been missing for over a month.

It had been a simple assignment that you were more than capable of handling on your own. Fury had assured you it would take no longer than one day to retrieve forgotten files from an abandoned weapons dealer’s warehouse; all you had to go was get in and get out. You had kissed Bucky goodbye before he waved you off, and that had been the last time he’d seen you. Your one-day mission turned into three days, and on day five you’d officially been declared MIA. Your tracker was turned off and no one could reach you, and Bucky was left to grapple with his guilt over your disappearance.

The team had received an anonymous tip with information on your current whereabouts, and without hesitation the Avengers had suited up and made their way to your supposed location. Bucky was restless throughout the entire flight, his only goal being to find you and have you back in his arms once more. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do if the tip turned out to be false or, even worse, it had been too late.

A gentle hand on his shoulder breaks Bucky from his contemplative daze as he’s forced to remove his eyes from your photo and look up into the remorseful face of his friend.

“We’re going to find her, Buck,” Steve says resolutely.

“What if we’re too late?” The man utters, agony clear on his features as he looks up at his friend with tears that threaten to fall. “What if this is all for nothing?”

“You can’t talk like that, like there’s no hope,” the blond insists adamantly. “The tip said she’s still alive. That’s gotta be worth something.”

“Sometimes that’s worse,” Bucky murmurs knowingly. A haunted look washes over his features that unnerves Steve, but the Captain isn’t able to discuss the matter further as the team finally makes their arrival to the given coordinates.

The tip had been sent to Fury by a supposed mole from an unnamed terrorist organization. They sought protection in exchange for your whereabouts, and the information led your teammates to a warehouse that had previously been deemed abandoned. No one would have ever thought twice about checking for you here, and that was what made it the prime the location for a secret base.

“We have no idea what we’re up against here,” Steve states as he debriefs the team. “All we know is that y/n is somewhere inside that building, and we’re not leaving here without her. Everyone knows what their job is today.”

Per Steve’s orders, every person is on their own as they spread out across the building and clear the rooms one by one. Bucky’s entire body is frigid with tension as he makes his way down the desolate corridors with his gun raised and his mind on high alert. The soldier is out for blood, heart pounding in his chest and mind frenzied with the endless possibilities of the state he might find you in.

The first few rooms are clear, but it isn’t until he turns the corner that he encounters an unsuspecting guard making rounds through the building. Bucky is on him in an instant, metal arm grabbing him by the throat and hosting him in the air before slamming his body against the wall. The guard’s eyes widen in fear while his fingers desperately claw at the metal arm that slowly crushes his windpipe, but Bucky is unrelenting.

“You have five seconds to tell me where you’re keeping her before I snap your neck,” he all but snarls through gritted teeth. He loosens his hold just enough to allow the man to speak and watches in annoyance as the man takes in spluttering breaths.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” the guard insists desperately before immediately being slammed back against the wall.

“I know you have a woman here against her will. An Avenger,” he reiterates bitterly. A flash of recognition washes over the guard’s face that Bucky is quickly able to detect, and the unease it fills him with causes him to falter on his hold.

“I… I know you,” the guard breathes out shakily much to Bucky’s chagrin. “The Winter Soldier...”

“Shut up!” Bucky barks furiously, prompting a faint smirk to form on the guard’s lips.

“You got away, and they decided to take her in your place. Her torture is your penance for your betrayal.”

“Who took her?!” Bucky demands, fist closing tighter around the man’s neck. His patience is thinning as the seconds drag on, but the man finally manages to give his answer despite the pressure to his throat, and the soldier’s stomach immediately fills with dread.

“Hail Hydra.”

The man dies almost instantaneously as Bucky tosses his body aside, but he can’t find himself bothered enough to care as he’s hit with weight of this new revelation. This wasn’t the work of some amateur villain or low level organization; this was Hydra. Hydra had you in their hold for over a month, and Bucky didn’t have to imagine what horrors you’d endured during your time here. He needed to find you, and he needed to find you now before they had the chance to lay a hand on you again.

He’s on the warpath, taking out guards left and right as he storms through the building in search of you. All he sees is red, his ears ringing from the pressure pounding in his head while his sight tunnels to focus on the mission at hand. No one will stop him, no one can stop him, and it’s for this reason only that he finally finds you.

A single door at the end of the hallway is all the stands between you and him. The neatly organized patient chart that hangs on the doorway bares your name, but Bucky doesn’t have the stomach to read any further than that. He uses his metal hand to break the lock on the door with ease before slowly pushing it open. He isn’t sure what he’ll find on the other side, but he just hopes he isn’t too late to save you.

Your still figure lies strapped to a metal table, and the steady rise and fall of your chest assures Bucky that you’re still breathing. The medical grade hospital gown is the only item of clothing you have on, allowing the multitude of bruises that cover the expanse of your skin to be on full display. Your face is sunken and drained of color, and your frail figure indicates clear signs of malnourishment. This is not the same y/n that Bucky had kissed goodbye after seeing her off from the compound, and his heart tightens in his chest at this horrible realization.

Bucky makes careful work of undoing your restraints and notes the scarred skin hidden underneath. It’s evident you’d fought against the straps frequently, and he knows better than anyone the fear that must have consumed you from being held down against your will. He doesn’t even want to think about what else they could have done to you in your time here, so he wills the thoughts away and instead carefully brushes his fingers against your arm in an attempt to rouse you from your sleep.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he hushes softly, harshly swallowing down his anxieties for your sake. “Open those pretty eyes for me. Wake up.”

Bucky watches on with bated breath as you begin to stir, eyebrows furrowing in discomfort and lashes fluttering until you can finally will your eyes to open. You groan, blinded by the harsh lights hanging above you and sore beyond belief from your previous bought of torture. It takes you a moment to grow accustom to your surroundings, and after what feels like ages your gaze finally settles upon the man hovering over you.

“There you are,” he utters softly, eyes brimming with tears as a smile of relief washes over him.

You start to scream.

Bucky is taken back by the shrieks you let out as you immediately begin to fight against him, blindly thrashing around like a caged animal while using your feet to kick him away.

“Please, don’t!” You sob in pure terror. “Get away!”

“Y/n, it’s me!” Bucky insists desperately as he takes hold of your wrists to stop your assault, but this only agitates you further.

“Let me go!”

“It’s me, it’s James!” He reiterates firmly despite the tears that fall down his face. “It’s your Sarge, remember?”

You falter at his words as if clarity has finally taken over your frenzied mind, and after a moment your terrified faces morphs into one of desperate relief as you quietly choke out, “Bucky?”

He feels as if the wind has been knocked out of his chest at the sound of your voice. You look absolutely broken, and it unnerves him to no end to see you so hysterical. Bucky knew exactly what they had done to make you this way because he’d once endured it himself, and he ached with agony at the fact that he hadn’t been there to protect you from any of it. It was his job as your teammate, as your partner, to keep you safe, and he felt like he had failed.

“I’m here,” he assures you, catching your trembling figure as you collapse off of the table and into his arms. He sinks to the floor with you in his hold and keeps you close to his chest while you sob, your screams echoing throughout the building and permanently etching themselves into his mind forever. Tears steadily fall from his eyes but he makes no attempt to clear them away. His focus is solely on your comfort as he carefully rubs circles into your back. “I’m never going to let them hurt you again.”

“I wish they would have just killed me,” you manage to confess while digging your fingers into the fabric of Bucky’s tactical vest. Despite the dread that pools in his stomach, the man merely presses his lips to the crown of your head and nods.

“I know,” he shushes you gently, a look of solemn understanding washing over his features. “I know.”

“Bucky,” a voice calls from the doorway, prompting you to stiffen in his hold while he looks to its owner. Steve stands there with a look of quiet realization on his face as he takes in the sight of your disheveled form in your savior’s arms. You begin to tremble in fear at the new presence in the room, and it’s clear that you don’t register the fact that it isn’t a Hydra agent here to torment you but a friend who longs to reach out for you.

“It’s alright, it’s just Steve,” Bucky hushes in your ear before meeting his friend’s disquieted gaze. “Gather the others and get the quinjet ready. We’ll meet you there.”

The Captain gives a solemn nod before making his exit and hastily following Bucky’s orders. Alone once more, you peer up at your partner with exhausted eyes and trembling lips as you meekly ask, “Do I get to go home now?”

With a watery smile, Bucky gently brushes his knuckles across your bruised cheek and offers you a single nod. He decides in that moment his sole focus in life will be to help you overcome the torture you’d endured and provide you the comfort he’d never been given during his time as the Winter Soldier. Your scars were his to bear, matching the ones he had already held on his own for so many years. His support would be unconditional and unwavering, and despite the long recovery that lay ahead he knew you’d be able to endure it together.

“I’m bringing you home, sweetheart, and no one is ever going to take you from me again.”

~~~

It takes an hour for Bucky to settle you down enough so that Bruce and the team of medics can properly examine you. You’d become frenzied at the sight of doctors and had pulled a scalpel on a poor nurse, but none of it was your fault. How could you be expected to willingly accept care when you’d spent an entire month being physically tormented?

Along with the multitude of bruises and cuts on your body, you were found to be extremely dehydrated and malnourished. You weighed fifteen pounds less than when you last left the compound, and you barely had the strength to keep yourself upright. You couldn’t walk for long distances without help from Bucky, and it made you feel absolutely pathetic. You once had been considered a top agent, cunning and powerful without an ounce of fear in your bones, and now you couldn’t go a minute without jumping at your own shadow. Hydra had ruined you, and you feared the effects might be permanent.

Bruce decides enough testing has been conducted for the day and releases you into the care of Bucky. For now, your main priority is to rest and regain your strength, but that’s easier said than done.

You struggle to remove your clothing while Bucky runs you a warm bath. Your muscles still ache from the beatings you’d endured, and each movement of your limbs sends jolts of pain throughout your body. You let out a quiet cry of frustration at your inability to remove your shirt, tears pooling in your eyes and sweat beading on your forehead as the room suddenly becomes much too hot. Your ears start to ring and you begin to panic at the suffocation your clothes cause you, but the feel of Bucky’s cool metal hand against your arm has you immediately relaxing.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs softly while carefully wiping away the tear that had fallen from your bought of panic. “Do you want me to help you?”

You give him a meek nod and allow him to undress you. Bucky is careful when pulling the shirt over your head, and he tries not to stare too long at the deep purples that stain your skin or the gashes that litter your abdomen. You’d managed to get out some details of your time as Hydra’s prisoner with loving encouragement from Bucky, and you told him of their attempts to coerce you into revealing sensitive information about the Avengers and, more importantly, about him. Your loyalty was unwavering, and though your silence only earned you brutal beatings in return, you never once let them break you. You were incredibly strong even if you didn’t feel that way, and Bucky made sure to express that to you during your assessment with Bruce.

The warm water burns the cuts on your skin as Bucky slowly eases you into the tub, but you try not to let that show. The last thing you want to do is worry him further, and you hate the fact that you’ve put so much on his already full plate for him to bear.

“Does that feel alright?” He murmurs gently while reaching across the way for your bottle of shampoo. You nod.

“Thank you,” you whisper shakily, shutting your eyes as silent tears begin to fall. “I don’t… I’m sorry for putting you through all of this.”

Bucky frowns, faltering in his movements as he sets the shampoo down and kneels beside the tub. He reaches into the water and gently grabs hold of your hand. You flinch on instinct without meaning to, but he doesn’t let show the sadness it brings him.

“None of this is your fault,” he assures you earnestly. “I wish I could take away all of your pain, go back in time and trade places with you, but the best I can do is be here for you. I want to be your shoulder to cry on, your hand to hold, your rock. The same way you’ve always been mine, because that’s what a relationship is supposed to be. Will you let me do that for you, honey?”

You let out a quiet sob from the overflow of emotions that wash over you in response to Bucky’s confession. You can’t get out any words and are only able to offer a nod in response. You’re in anguish from your trauma yet still grateful to have Bucky by your side, and the amalgamation of emotions you feel leaves you overwhelmed. Bucky lets you cry it out while he lovingly washes your hair for you and provides gentle reassurances every now and then. You don’t know what you’d do without him, and thankfully you’ll never have to find out.

You think that maybe you’ll survive this, so long as you have Bucky.

~~~

“My patience is running thin, Agent y/l/n,” the woman hums while filing her nails with disinterest. She never once meets your eyes, behaving as if you are beneath her and her time. You know you could snap her neck with ease if not for the chains keeping your arms hovering above your head; she knows this too, and it’s for that reason she feels cocky enough to torment you from her spot across the room. “I will ask again. Where can I find the Winter Soldier?”

“His name is James,” you murmur lowly before spitting at her. The blood that had pooled in your mouth splatters across the floor and lands on the toe of her boots. She looks down at the mess lamely before lifting her head to her counterpart and giving a single nod. You hold in a cry and grunt through the pain as your smacked across the face by the open palm of a Hydra soldier. A punch to your gut follows, knocking the wind out of you and prompting you to slump forward in agony.

“I have all the time in the world, my dear,” the woman says with a pleasant smile that fails to reach her eyes. You watch with wide eyes as the soldier walks towards the nearby table in the room and picks up a a taser. “Now let us try again.”

Bucky is in the kitchen when he hears you start to scream.

He drops the glass of water in his hands and pays no mind to the way it shatters behind him as he sprints back to your room. Your cries echo throughout the hallway and have probably woken up the entire floor by now, but he’s sure it’s something your teammates are used to by now. Night terrors have plagued your sleep since you were rescued, and though Bucky does his best to ensure your comfort, even he can’t erase the memories that continue to haunt you.

He makes it to your room in record time and finds you struggling to remove the sheets from your body. The kick of your legs is panicked and uncoordinated, and Bucky can tell you’re still in the midsts of sleep and consciousness. He’s at your side in an instant, peeling back the suffocating covers before carefully taking hold of your wrists in order to prevent you from hurting yourself.

“You’re dreaming, y/n,” he hushes you gently as your movements begin to slow. “Wake up, sweetheart. I’m right here.”

You open your eyes with a panicked gasp and shoot up in bed, nearly knocking your forehead into Bucky’s. Your chest heaves as you try to still your racing heart, and it isn’t until you meet his worried gaze that you register your surroundings. The dingy interrogation room has been replaced by your bedroom, and in the place of the callous Hydra operative is your loving boyfriend.

“James?” You whisper shakily, harshly swallowing down the bile that had risen in your throat. Your face is wet with tears and sweat, but this doesn’t stop him from carefully cupping your face in his hands and pressing his lips to your forehead.

“I’m right here, doll. I’m always right here,” he assures you softly before meeting your fearful gaze.

“I… I think I had another nightmare,” you murmur shamefully. “Can I even call it that if it… if it really happened to me? If it wasn’t a dream?”

Bucky sighs softly and wipes away your tears before helping you settle back into bed. He makes note to kick the covers far away in order to keep you from feeling suffocated and engulfs you in his arms. You cling to him like a child clings to their favorite stuffed animal and find immediate comfort in his warmth.

“It was a dream,” Bucky assures you, “because you’ll never have to live through that again. I won’t let that happen. We survived, and Hydra doesn’t get to take that from us.”

“We survived,” you repeat quietly to reassure yourself, a grounding technique Bucky had taught you. He smiles faintly and gently runs his fingers up and down your back until you’re lulled back to bed.

In his presence, you’re able to sleep through the rest of the night.

~~~

A month has passed and you’re finally starting to show some signs of improvement. You’ve slowly but surely gained back some of the weight you’d lost, and you can walk around the compound without growing tired or needing to hold onto someone else. Most of the bruising has faded and your wounds have morphed into scars, but you’re still not on the same level of strength you had been when departing for that wretched mission months ago. However, Banner has cleared you to participate in training again, and soon you’ll begin conditioning with Natasha.

The mental wounds haven’t healed as easily, and they probably won’t heal for some time. You still can’t be alone in a dark room, can’t sleep without Bucky beside you, and flinch at any loud noise or sudden movements. The therapist you’ve been seeing at Bucky’s request is slowly helping you work through your trauma, but there’s only so much journaling and meditating can do for you.

You want an easy fix or the ability to speed-run through your cognitive healing. You’d even begged Wanda to warp your mind and rid you of your pain, but she had gently denied your request at the behest of Bucky and the rest of the team. Hydra had already scrambled your mind so much with their methods of mental torture, and your partner knew better than anyone that a mind wipe could only keep the memories away for so long before they began to resurface.

You don’t think you would have had the motivation to survive all of this if not for Bucky. He’s been your greatest comfort and your biggest supporter throughout your recovery, and you adore him endlessly for the unconditional love he gives you every day. No one understands what you’re going through better than him, and he has helped shine light on your darkest hour when you thought it to be impossible.

It’s a quiet morning in the compound as Steve and Sam prepare a nice breakfast for the team. You sit silently at the kitchen counter while they work, the music that plays from the radio hardly registering in your mind as you dissociate. Your mind feels foggy, your body on edge with anticipation despite the absence of any threats. This state of mind had kept you sane during your bouts of isolation when Hydra kept you locked in the dark for days at a time, and you still found yourself disconnecting from your environment at times without realizing.

Bucky notes your sudden silence with a worried frown, keeping an eye on you as he drinks his morning coffee but leaving you undisturbed. He found it was best to allow you the chance to break out of your daze yourself so long as the situation didn’t put you in harm’s way.

“I hate to ruin the mood, Buck,” Steve voices while mixing his oatmeal, “but we have to start preparing for our next assignment. We leave a week from today.”

“There isn’t any way for me to sit this one out?” Bucky pleads after casting a nervous glance in your direction. The conversation doesn’t seem to register in your mind, and for this he’s grateful. He doesn’t want to frighten you or send you into a panic so early in the morning. “I can’t just leave her.”

“Natasha will look after her,” Steve assures him. “I know it’s not the same, but she’ll at least be safe.”

“She needs me, Steve.”

“We need you out in the field, especially for this next assignment.”

“She’s tough, Bucky,” Sam reminds him. The man has just finished plating your breakfast for you and sets it down on your placemat- two eggs with pieces of bacon shaped into a smile and a bowl of fruit. You blink slowly before registering the food in front of you and absently reach for your fork. “And she’s been doing so well. You have to give her credit.”

Innocently and without a second thought, Sam rests his hand on your shoulder to give you an encouraging squeeze. The physical contact startles you back into reality, and almost as if on autopilot you clench the fork tightly in your grasp and swing without warning. Bucky’s eyes go wide in shock, but he’s able to move quickly enough so that his metal hand blocks the impact of the utensil from hitting Sam. It falls to the floor with a deafening clatter that sounds throughout the room, and the three men can only stare at each other in shock.

You come to your senses immediately and look down in horror at the crumped fork that lays at your feet. Your frightened eyes look from the fork to Bucky then back to Sam. Your features are apologetic despite the tears that well in your eyes, and you reach for the man with trembling hands.

“Oh my god, I- I’m so sorry,” you weep, “I didn’t mean to, I swear!”

“I know you didn’t,” Sam utters solemnly, accepting your sorrowful apologies with a hug as you begin to weep into his chest. “I’m alright. No harm, no foul.”

Your quiet cries fill the room as the men exchange uneasy glances. The breakfast is now long forgotten in exchange for the dented fork that Bucky retrieves from the ground and sets onto the counter. It is a harsh reminder of the reality you find yourselves in and the fact that despite your progress, you still have a long way to go.

“I’ll talk to Fury,” Steve murmurs quietly enough for only Bucky to hear. “You’re right.”

“I wish I wasn’t.”

~~~

Your therapist suggests a change of scenery might alleviate the restlessness you feel when being benched from missions. Tony graciously offers you one of his many vacation homes to use at your discretion, and you end up in a secluded cabin nestled next to a peaceful lake.

You sit in front of the bay window with a cup of tea in your hands and watch as Bucky chops wood for the fireplace. His muscles are highlighted by the tightness of his red Henley, flexing with the effort he uses to swing the axe down onto the logs. You hum in quiet appreciation for your handsome boyfriend before leaving your place to join him outside.

It’s not often you get to play house like this with Bucky. Your life as world saving heroes doesn’t leave a lot of time leftover for domesticity, so you enjoy these stolen moments when you can. Your kidnapping served as a reminder that the peaceful lives you’d built together could crash down in an instant, and this thought haunted Bucky daily.

“Is my woodsman ready for dinner yet?” You call teasingly from the porch, prompting Bucky to pause his work so he can focus his attention on you. You look radiant with the golden hues of the sun reflecting on your face. Your eyes are the brightest he’s seen them in months, and here at the cabin it almost feels like the old you is slowly starting to peek her head out from the shadows. You’re healing, and nothing makes him happier than that.

“Just about finished,” he grins, meeting you on the porch to pull you into his arms. You melt into his embrace and allow yourself to enjoy the rare moment of tranquility you feel. You haven’t had any nightmares at the cabin, no moments of dissociation, and you don’t shy away from his gentle touch. You’re happy here, and this was a feeling you thought might never be attainable for you again.

“I like it here,” you hum pensively, peering up to meet his gaze. “It’s quiet.”

“You seem a lot better here than at the compound,” Bucky notes considerately, affectionately running the back of his hand against your jaw.

“It helps being separated from anything related to the incident,” you note with a disheartened frown, “but I have to go back at some point. I can’t run away forever.”

“Would it be so bad?”

Your brows furrow with uncertainty as you pull back to meet his stare. “What do you mean?”

“What if we get ourselves a cabin like this? Maybe we go into early retirement, settle down and start a new life together.”

“Do you really mean that, James?”

“Of course I do, sweetheart,” he grins while grabbing hold of your chin with his thumb and index finger. “That’s always been the goal. I help keep the world safe so that I can wake to another day with you by my side. It doesn’t have to be now if you’re not ready, but just know that my plan is you. It’s always been you.”

You gift him a saccharine smile despite the tears that flow down your face, but for once they are tears of hope and happiness. All you thought of during your imprisonment was Bucky, about not getting the chance to see him again or say goodbye. You loved him with your entire being, and you knew that there was no future for you without him in it.

“I love you, Sarge,” you utter softly, draping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer to meet you in a kiss.

Your heart is lighter than it’s been and months, and for once you are filled with hope for a better tomorrow.

~~~

“Like the new suit?” You prompt, shifting left and right to let Bucky take in all the angles. “Tony’s letting me take it out for a test drive.”

“Looks good,” Bucky compliments with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. Noting his sudden shift in demeanor, you sigh and carefully rest your hands on his chest.

“I’ll only be gone a day at most,” you utter softly while smoothing out the wrinkles in his shirt. “Fury says it’s a quick job.”

“It’s not that,” he sighs as he tightly takes hold of your hands in his own. Hesitating, Bucky casts his troubled gaze to the floor before meeting your somber eyes. “I just don’t like that you’re going alone, and I wish I could come with you. Someone needs to have your back.”

“I’ll be okay. I know what I’m doing, and if all else fails this suit has a tracker that will send you an alert if I’m in trouble.”

“You sure your trip doesn’t have room for one more?” He attempts again only for you to shake your head.

“Afraid not, Sarge,” you sigh before pressing a quick peck to his lips. His sullen features make your heart tighten in your chest, and as much as you don’t want to leave him behind you know you have a job to do. “I promise I’ll come back to you. Don’t I always?”

“You do,” he relents with a faint smile before wrapping his arms around your frame and giving you a tight squeeze. “Have a safe trip.”

“I’ll be home before you know it.”

The memory of your goodbye is fresh in Bucky’s mind despite it having taken place six months ago. You’ve both changed so much since then, but he thinks it’s been for the better. You’ve only grown stronger despite what you’ve been put through, and he couldn’t be more proud.

“How’s that feel?” He asks after adjusting your thigh holster. You hum appreciatively and flex your leg to test the range of motion it gives you. “Too tight?”

“Fits just fine,” you note with a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes.

“You don’t have to go if you’re not ready. Steve and I can cover your slack.”

“No, I want to,” you insist firmly with a shake of your head. “The doctor says I’m ready, and if I don’t get back out on the field now I never will.”

It’s your first assignment since being sent away by Fury to retrieve those files. You’re nervous, but you’re ready to finally return back to your old life again. Being an Avenger had been everything to you, and you weren’t going to let what Hydra did to you take that away. You’re joining Steve and Bucky in a low stakes reconnaissance mission, and despite your eagerness to be back in action you can tell your partner is worried.

“I’m proud of you,” he utters suddenly, gently brushing back a strand of hair that had come loose from the rest. “And of how far you’ve come. I don’t doubt your ability to hold your own, but as your boyfriend it’s my job to worry.”

“I know,” you affirm with a nod. “I won’t lie to you and say I’m not scared to be going on this mission, but I can’t hide forever. Besides, I’ll have you and Steve with me, and neither of you will let anything happen to me.”

“I have your back,” he reaffirms with a faint smile before leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. Despite his worries, he knows that this has always been the goal- to take back the life Hydra had stolen from you both. Your traumas bonded you together, but so did your recovery. Finding hope and positivity after the horrors you’d endured would always be a struggle, but it was a challenge the both of you were willing to take head on.

Bucky was your safe person just as you were his, and together you would always make it to the other side.

[noheadcanons-juststories]

Vampire!141 x fledgling!reader, who was found abandoned and starved. intro

Ever since the Merge, all sorts and manners of creatures have made themselves comfortable in the realm that humans called home. While most were already longtime residents, others came from pockets, nooks, and crannies previously hidden from mortal eyes. Yet despite the efforts to peacefully integrate non-humans into human society, there have been instances of “unfortunate casualties”.

Like you for example. And with one of the worst you could've encountered: vampires.

There was a risk to living a solitary life in the countryside, in that no one would hear your cries for help. Not to mention some vampiric myths didn’t apply to the undead. Such as the “no entry without invite”, which led to you being attacked in your own home. The vamp who attacked you was only a few decades old. Experienced but no sage. His bloodlust controlled, but he lacked discipline for his age. He got the jump on you as you were entering your cottage, 6 pm sunset. An unfortunate circumstance. Took a bit too much and didn’t want to leave a dead body behind. More or less.

Afterwards, he was gone.

You spent the next few days isolated in your home. Laying in bed, clutching your stomach in pain as you starved. Emancipated and paler than you should be with your new complexion. You didn't call anyone, friends or family. Not that you had many left after you decided to go off-grid.

Not even your place of work. If you told them what happened, it would be over for you. Your boss was required by law to inform authorities of any “incidents” involving monster attacks. In your case, they would send someone from the Night Council to retrieve you. A fledgling without a sire is a disaster waiting to happen. You'll either be assigned to a “foster clan” or put down, depending on certain factors.

You hear that the latter is a common practice, as very few clans will take in a fledgling that isn't their own. Even then, it's not guaranteed that the clan will treat you well.

It's better to wither away, you tell yourself. Don't be a problem. Don’t be a burden.

Of course, your boss noticed your absence long before a month. The old man, a faun, had immediately taken a shine to you when you first walked in his shop, “Pots and Kettles”. You, a small thing, asking if he was hiring two years ago, perfectly timed after one of his employees moved out of town. You, one of his best baristas at the café, suddenly gone, without a call or a letter or a note.

Sweet and silent as you are, your missing presence was mourned.

He goes to your cottage within the week, ready to knock upon your door when he smells it. Like copper and rot, it lingers in the doorway. He calls for you, worried for your well-being, your health, you.

“Go away,” you tell him, your voice weak and quiet. “I'm unwell.” When he asks what happened, he's met with silence. He assumes the worst, and he's ready to put his training into use.

But he stops himself. If he calls the Night Council…

No, he won't do that to you. And he won't let you wither away.

You need care, support, and guidance, and he knows just the people to give it to you. They owe him a favor anyway. The old faun just hopes the contacts are still the same after so long.

It was two weeks later.

You're practically skin and bones. Your softness and weight, gone. Your eyes, deep crimson and sunken in. Your fangs, constantly itchy and in pain. And your stomach feels like blades, twisting and jabbing to carve out room for a meal that will never come.

Turns out that starving only amplifies the bloodlust, frantically urging the body to feed for nourishment. Yet despite the agonizing hunger and the creeping madness, you will yourself to remain home. Still wrapped in your bed sheets and letting yourself go to waste.

That was the plan.

Until a knock at your door sounded. Possibly the Night Council, you assume. Boss must’ve called them.

Not wanting to delay the inevitable, you force yourself off the bed, keeping the bedding wrapped around your body as you slowly creep to the front window. Peeking through the curtains, you see four gentlemen in odd gear. The one in the skull-plated mask catches your attention first.

They aren’t from the Night Council.

Another knock from the man in front then your name. “We know you’re at the door, kid. Just open up.” He’s got well-groomed chops and blue eyes with wisdom far beyond his visible years.

Enter the 141, a subclan of the MacMillan House. The old faun, a soldier in his youth before the brass booted him with honorable discharge, knew them in passing. The four men, with decades to centuries under their belt, were also let go, but they stayed in service with their loyalty to Lord MacMillan.

John Price, the elder and Captain, yet MacMillan's youngest. Simon Riley, Lieutenant and right-hand, second-oldest. Johnny MacTavish, Sergeant and tracker, a few decades younger than Simon. And the youngest, Kyle Garrick, also Sergeant and John's only progeny.

Countless years on and off the battlefield brought more than just friendship between them. It gave love, stability, and belonging. Which you would definitely be better off with.

next Masterlist

[milkoomi]

how to study effectively. ᥫ᭡

sometimes we get caught up in trying to memorize all the material rather than study and learn the material. we also may come to realize that the way we currently “study” isn’t actually studying at all. i’ve fallen into this way of studying, but i’ve learned some really helpful tips and tricks to make sure that i actually learn and understand the material and get it to stick rather than memorize it just to forget everything later.

let’s begin …

୨ৎ — incorporate study methods

there’s a variety of different study methods that have been proven to truly help students learn the material and have productive study sessions.

some study methods:

active recall - retrieving information from your memory

some active recall techniques include…

practice tests/questions

flashcards

summary sheets

teaching others/Feynman Technique (more on this later)

take notes with questions related to the topics

whiteboard recall: write down what it is that you’re learning on a whiteboard while using as little words as possible; summarizing

record yourself explaining the material & listen back to it, be sure to make note of what you missed in your recording

blurting method (more on this later)

eat the frog - completing the most difficult task first

how to eat the frog…

start by identifying your most difficult task. whether it’s a chapter you’re struggling with the most or an assignment that might take you longer to complete.

finish that hardest task first. focus on it, understand it, complete it, and get it out of the way before reviewing any other chapters/topics.

make sure you have a full grasp on whatever it is that you’re studying before moving onto something easier!

pomodoro method - working for a set amount of take & taking breaks in increments

25 minutes of working/studying , 5 minute break

50 minutes of working/studying , 10 minute break

set timers for both the time you study & the time you take a break!

the two options i provided don’t have to be what you decide to do! choose whatever time limits you want and will work best for you!

feynman technique - teaching others the material

how it works…

start by choosing what material you want to teach to someone else (that ‘someone else’ doesn’t have to be a real person! honestly, if my cats were all sitting somewhere or near me, i’d pretend my cats were my ‘students’!)

without reviewing your notes and going based off your memory, begin your “lecture”

fill in any gaps in your memory by going back to your notes and make note of what you’re struggling to recall/teach so that you can review it again later

remember to keep your “lectures”/explanations simple! as a medical student myself, i try to stay away from using medical terminology so that my “students” can also understand. reteaching the material in layman’s terms will also help you better understand the material!

blurting method - an active recall technique

how it works…

start by reading through your notes, textbook/lecture slides, etc. & try to remember all that you’ve read

once you feel like you’ve got all the information in your head (or as much as you can! don’t feel like you have to memorize it all!) close your notes, textbooks, lecture slides, etc.

on a separate sheet of paper or a whiteboard or anything that you can write on, write down everything you remember from what you just read and reviewed

after, review what you blurted out onto that separate sheet of paper and reopen your notes/textbook/etc. & see what you might have missed and note what it is that you still need to work on

୨ৎ — work in a beneficial environment

they key point here is that where you decide to study needs to be beneficial for you. meaning that your environment needs to be an area where you feel like you can study and work at your full potential. if you need a quiet place, maybe you might want to go to a library. if you need a brighter study environment, maybe you need to open up your curtains & blinds to let sunlight in or you need significant overhead lighting. if you need something more calming in your environment, maybe you might want to have soft and calming background music playing and maybe a nicely scented candle lit with dimmed lights.

figure out what it is that you need to study productively without any distractions and without the feeling of discomfort. your study space should allow you to focus completely!

୨ৎ — study groups

study groups are extremely helpful! i’m usually one who wishes to work independently, but recently i’ve been connecting with my classmates to form study groups and have a session together! i’ve found it to be extremely beneficial and i thank the study groups i’ve been in for my success during the semester!

you don’t have to work in a big group! most times i worked with 1-2 other people, and that was enough for me! study groups allow you to share your own study techniques with others while also learning some new strategies yourself. it also helps to have someone who’s also learning the same material so that you guys can quiz each other or incorporate that teaching method with one another. also, having others there to study with might also give you some more insight on different topics! you might be struggling with one topic, but whoever you’re studying with might be close to mastering it and vice versa! as a group, you can review and share notes and helpful tips & tricks!

୨ৎ — other resources

i want to share a few posts that i, and others, have created that i feel might help with studying effectively!

my posts:

stop procrastinating: school edition

this post is pretty self-explanatory from the title, but i just go over a few things that help to get rid of that procrastination habit!

coming out of academic burn out

i feel like this is an important post to mention because studying can cause a lot of stress and lead to burn out! i highly recommend reading this to help prevent that from happening for you!

my personal study methods

i posted this earlier this month, and while i believe my study methods will be changing for my incoming spring semester, i feel like this would still be helpful to look at! it might give you some insight on how others might study and their successes with their methods!

other bloggers’ posts:

posts by @glowettee —

preparing for next semester series

one of my wonderful mutuals, mindy, has created a series on preparing for a new semester! it’s a great series filled with really great information from school supply guides to note taking secrets! definitely recommend this series for those who are still preparing for the new semester!

executing your comeback plan

this is a post from another one of mindy’s amazing series about getting yourself back up from a bad grade (because that does happen, and god this series was so helpful and reassuring!) this post that i linked specifically talks about getting back into the grind and provides really helpful tips!

posts by @glowup-princess —

how to study like hermione granger

i’m personally a huge Harry Potter fan, so this one caught my eye when i saw it on my dashboard (and honestly, i’ve always admired hermione for her educational prowess) so if you need something inspiring, then this is it! lila’s also got other posts similar to this one on her page inspired by other iconic it-girls in the academic world!

how to romanticize study

we all want to romanticize our lives in one way or another, and so why not start by romanticizing your studies? this is a great post with helpful tips on how to do so!

youtube videos/podcasts:

how to study effectively - The Zach Highley Show

study tips that got me through pre-med, mcat, and phd in immunology - GinnythePoooh

become a top 1% student - StudyToSuccess

୨ৎ — final notes

this is one of my lengthier posts, and if you read through it all: 1. thank you so very much for reading! i really appreciate it! and 2. i hope this helps you in your studies! i know we all want to be the best students we can be and receive high grades and achieve great things in our academic careers. it’s important to stay motivated and to have confidence in yourself! you will succeed in your schooling, i just hope you remember to believe that for yourself!

with lots of love, faustina 🌷

[pinescent-and-gingerbread]

✧Night Moths

✦ Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader ✦ Summary: Arthur has a simple task to do, searching for any lead possible at the Mayor's party. Only problem? You also have a job of your own. Based on “The Gilded Cage” ✦ Warnings/tags: guns, strangers to…sinners?, SMUT 18+, reader is part of a St Denis gang, cover names used at first, smoking, Arthur is extremely horny and a little rough with you (you pushed his limits), cursing, outdoor sex, fingering, tits play, multiple orgasms, unprotected p in v ✦ Words: 9,8k ✦ a/n: YES. I KNOW. This is super long. I have absolutely zero excuse. I feel like this is my best piece yet, but I'm so nervous about posting it! Once again, a big thank you to the incredible @zae-heeyyy, my jedi master, my confidence-booster and patience Queen, who beta-read this big baby and helped me so much with so many things, as always. (Go check her blog I'm begging you)

Glasses are twinkling and clinking all around you. Words are spoken, laughs are let out, champagne drank.

You're leaning against one of the stoned garden walls, fancy decor of the Mayor's house, the perfectly cut bushes looking just as fresh and neat as every guest at this party. You can hear the distinguished music coming from a quartet playing under a gazebo a few meters away from you, and smell the fresh air of the night blending with aromas of flowers, expensive alcohol, hint of vanilla and sweet scents hiding a stronger note of sweat and cologne. Around you, all the richest, wealthiest, and noteworthiest of people in St Denis. You can hear them talk; their conversation as dull and superficial as an empty chrysalid, an abandoned cocoon emptied from all substance, from all interest and life.

You hated those kinds of discussions. Hated those kinds of people, the ones that have the easiest and simplest life one could ever have; being fed, being cared for, even being told what to think and do. You almost envied them in a way, they didn't have to worry about a single thing apart from losing their power. It seemed comfortable somehow, worry-free. The exact opposite of what you had always known.

And yet, you had to bear with them. A very specific task had been assigned to you by your gang. A simple job, one you were often sent off to as you had grown by the years into a great thief and a terribly efficient shapeshifter; blending into any type of party, or gathering, always making a good impression, putting people at ease. You were now an expert at this little game, especially with rich men. They were all the same, always wanting more, demanding the same thing from you. You had learned how to play with their greediness and lust to turn it into your advantage, saloons becoming your jungle as you sneaked easily between your prey to rob them, a deadly and redoubtable leopard in a world of apes.

You needed to steal some important documents from the mayor's office. The main informer of your gang had specified it was a pretty strong lead, and that you could gain a lot from it; something to do with Leviticus Cornwall's dirty deeds with the mayor, a blackmail opportunity. 

Your boss had decided to send you, knowing you would easily integrate the party, and even more easily steal the documents. So here you were, feline eyes looking all around you, scanning, observing, evaluating. You couldn't just come, steal the papers, and go; it would have been too suspicious. All the contrary, you needed to be seen and leave a good impression like you always did, maybe stay for a couple of hours, and then smoothly retrieve your goal before disappearing in the secrecy of the dark night. A flamboyant, harmless butterfly… on the surface.

You sighed, trying to pay attention to what was being said to you. Right in front of you, a middle-aged man was talking, explaining something about how he had acquired his incredible wealth. His speech was sadly boring, his eyes glum, his clothes basic, his face awfully bland.

The empty chrysalis in all its gloomy glory.

You forced yourself to nod and give the man a charming smile. This was your job. You had to at least do it properly. Why was tonight a lot harder than the others? Were you frightened to be right under the Mayor's nose, fooling him into his own home? Were you tired, or sick? 

In a way, you were. Sick of this life, of this constant pretending, of being here listening to the literal hollow vessel bragging about himself, sick of needing to appear actually interested, charmed even. 

Suddenly, the music coming from the quartet is too loud, sharp violin blending with his words, making you even less focused. You were here for too long already, you needed a break and to finish your mission.

You politely interrupted the stranger, placing a gentle hand on his forearm, a gesture that you had noticed was prompt to soften most men. Along with your most charming smile, you excused yourself from him and quickly walked to a less crowded area, praying that no one would interrupt you.

You made your way up to the exterior stairs of the luxurious mansion just before the patio door and windows, and stopped on top of them, placing your hands on the central low wall, between two Greek columns. Another fancy facade, the house itself was just an imitation from another culture. Did any of these fools have any personal identity at all?

From here, you had a good view of the whole party. Countless fake smiles, masks, a literal scene of a play that could have its place at the Théâtre Râleur. A play of pale phantom shells.

You reached for your purse, taking a cigarette out, mindlessly putting it between your lips. Maybe smoking would help. You searched for a match, silently cursing realizing you hadn't any left.

"Ya need some fire, Ma’am?"

A deep voice said behind you, making you turn, surprised. It was unusual for people to startle you, your ears had been trained to notice the faintest of footsteps in order to survive.

You got even more surprised considering who had talked. A man was standing before you. He was taller, and largely wider than you, his black suit struggling to contain what looked like a well-built body; which made you wonder how could he have been so quiet. His shoulders especially looked way broader than the men you had the habit of running into at those sorts of gatherings. A very classical white bow looked like it was strangling him. His black tailcoat and white jacket looked larger too, making you wonder how much did he had to pay for the tailor to sew them custom-made.

His hair had a soft indescribable color, somewhere between a light brown and a sandy blond. His face, the work of a brutal draftsman, rough edges and strong squared jaw gratified with some scars. One on his chin, another on his nose, nose that seemed broken now that you were thinking about it. It looked like the artist that had drawn this man had sharpened his pencils too much and traced lines in a hurry, piercing through the canvas, his features ending up rugged and scared, some trace of graphite shrapnel that would have damaged the portrait.

What disturbed you the most were his eyes. They looked out of place considering how robust his features were. One could have expected them to be dark, black even. But they were the exact opposite, their bright and soft indigo color leaving you disarmed, two sapphires locked on your own pupils.

He was handing you a match, and you slowly took it, your fingers slightly discovering how his palm felt under them. Firm, calloused.  Another stone-like feature of him.

He looked like those Greek statues carved by artists. His beauty so singular and yet enticing. So different.

"Why, thank you, kind sir." You showed your gratitude to him with a grin, lighting the match by simply rubbing it against the cold stone of the fence, a little flame appearing instantly. You brought it to your mouth, the cigarette finally catching fire, and you breathed in.

"Ya don't smoke much?" He questioned, voice deep. You hadn't noticed how deep it was the first time, nor how pronounced his accent was, dragging and drawling every word, a slow melody of his own.

"Not too often, indeed." You informed him. It was the truth, you were basically just smoking during jobs to blend in more easily, most people doing it. It was an easy way to start a conversation with anyone. Just like he had done with you, you noted.

"Needed a break from high society?" He inquired, a sarcastic tone in his voice.

"I guess you could say that." You answered, exhaling a long drag of smoke. 

You were now completely turned to face him, your cigarette making back and forth from your mouth to the air where you tossed the burned ashes with a little movement from your thumb to the cigarette’s end. Your motions were elegant, distinguished but looked natural. It caught his interest.

"What's your name, sir?" You spoke again, curious about this uncommon newcomer.

"Tacitus Kilgore. What is yours, Ma'am?" He asked you back before placing himself on your left, both of you leaning on the low fence of the patio. 

You contained a chuckle. There was no way in the World this man was named like this. You knew something was odd about him. The scars, his knuckles redden and subtly wounded as if had fought recently.  His strong stature, miles away from a lazy bourgeois being served, his wild hair longer than the actual trendy haircut, his stubble fitting more a countryman than an actual St Denis gentleman. 

Years of playing with people and observing them had made your eyes alert and expert, and you could see when someone was pretending.

When someone was playing a role just like you were, not belonging into this World.

"Rose Schultz." Of course, it wasn't your real name either. You had to be a really poor thief to give him your actual one. He didn't react to it though, his face impassible just like the start of your whole conversation.

Apart from this vague feeling you had about him not being a rich gentleman, you found trouble in reading his emotions. His facial features were closed, impenetrable, mysterious. This also disturbed you as you had the habits of figuring men out right away; he on the other hand was a whole challenge by himself, his intentions hidden behind an emotionless face. This man probably was a champion at poker.

"Nice t' meet ya, Missus Schultz. Are you, erm, hidin' from someone here? Or jus' judgin' everyone from your perch?" He went on with a more amused voice.

"Just know that I'm not the type to hide from someone, Mister." You replied, a little grin curling up your lips.

"Yeah, you sure don't look like it..."

"You wanna know what I think you look like, Mister?"

"Go ahead."

"A wild horse who's trapped, and can't wait to be freed again."

Silence. His eyes stared deeply into yours, stabbing you in sharp blue flashes of Apatite, as keen as the blade of a knife. After just a few seconds, you finally see his mouth moving, his cold expression changing as a slight grin made his way between the stillness of his features.

"You sort of a witch or somethin' ?" He asked you, amused once again. His little smile is even more evident in his eyes, his lower eyelids crinkling slightly in amusement.

"Maybe." You answered cockily, feeling more at ease with him now that he was slightly more open. 

Still, there was something that was making you feel weak in the knees; maybe it was his tall stature, his strong build, or the palpable tension you could feel beaming out from him, as if he was ready to jump on someone who would have crossed him at any second.

In a way, you liked it. It was almost exciting.

"I better not mess wi’chu then. Don't wanna end up cursed or somethin'." He joked, features relaxing, body leaning slightly more against the low wall in a more comfortable position.

"Oh, I wouldn't dare. You also look like the type of man you don't wanna mess with..."

"I'm surprised how well you already know me, darlin'." He admitted, internally enjoying your conversation more and more.

Your heart swelled at the surname. It felt so good in your ears, it sounded better than from any person who ever said it to you. You wanted to hear it again. You wanted to hear him say it just to you.

"I'm kinda talented at figuring people out." You simply replied, before taking another drag at your cigarette.

"I too. And I also think you're not here to jus' play nice with everyone and enjoy yourself." He suddenly confessed to you with a knowing gaze, eyebrows raising as if he was trying to make you understand something.

He knew too. You both knew you weren't from this world, like two predators from the same species, recognizing themselves, circling, judging, from one individual to another. Your breath stopped for a very short time, nobody could have noticed it, but somehow you were sure he did.

"Don't ya worry little "rose", I won't tell no one..." 

You didn't miss how he was playing with your false name. On top of being astonishingly handsome, he had some spirit…

He's still looking intensely into your eyes. "In return, I expect you to do the same...", he added in a low voice, his tone firmer and even more resonant than earlier.

A threat. His presence only intimidates you, and it's working so well that you're almost sure he must be an expert in terrorizing too. He must be one hell of a weapon all by himself.

You slowly nodded your head, trying to swallow as naturally as possible to look unphased. 

"Guess we have a deal here, "Tacitus"." You emphasized his name, making it clear you're more than doubtful about it being real too.

It made him laugh, and you almost lost it at the sound of it. It was as deep, raw, and genuine as his entire being seemed to be. You loved it. You loved it too much.

Exhaling some smoke, you noticed he had pulled out a cigarette too and had joined your smoking, holding it between his thumb and index finger. You had mixed feelings for this man. He was just as intimidating as he was enticing, and you let your curiosity win the best of you as you carried on your conversation with him.

"I hate it here." You suddenly confessed.

 There was no point in playing anymore, and even if you didn’t really know why you had told him that, a part of you felt like maybe, just maybe, he could have understood you.

"Yeah, I get what ya mean. Sometimes I think that those people are jus'… reptiles in fancy clothin'."

You had seen right. Your chest felt light, as if he had lifted a weight in you with just those simple words.

"I just want to be anywhere else but here. Somewhere nicer, more authentic. Like in Big Valley..." You went on with your regrets.

"You too know about this place uh? Yeah, I can picture ya picking flowers in Lil’ Creek..."

This time it was your turn to chuckle, your laugh creating a little puff of smoke in the air. Was he being serious or just teasing you? You didn’t really care. Now, you felt like something special was linking you both as you knew exactly where this spot was, a happy memory brought back in your mind thanks to his words. The wild and fresh river, the meadows covered in thousands of violet flowers, the snowy mountains in the background.

Your cristal-clear laugh made him smile back at you.

"So... What does a woman like you is actually doing here, then?" He asked you, his eyes roaming all along your body while he did. 

You were glad you had put on the prettiest dress you had, its dark burgundy color matching perfectly the tone of your skin, and its generous cleavage showing a delicious amount of your chest, underlined by a black translucent shawl covering your shoulders and twirling around your arms. You were offering a tempting sight for every man. You knew he had looked at it, his eyes lingering there had almost burned your skin, sent a warm feeling between your tights, and made your hand hold your cigarette tighter.

"You really thought it would be that easy, Mister?" You answered with another cheeky grin, looking at him with a sensual gaze, your words let out in a languorous whisper, knowing damn well he was trying to gain information, probably to probe if he could get something out of it for himself. "You really thought I would just confess everything to you about myself and what I'm doing here, just because you've got a firm tone and pretty face?"

He let out a dry single chuckle, his cigarette hanging in the air, smirking some more. This damn smirk, it was making you have more and more inappropriate thoughts about this man. The wildness, the dangerousness he was emitting should have made every girl flee, but you, all the contrary, were attracted by it like a moth to a flame.

Or maybe he was the Moth. Maybe he was the beautiful, singular, and ephemeral Moth in the world of chrysalides you were searching for all along.

"Oh trust me, I could make you spit out everythin' I want, Miss." He replied to your taunting words with the serious threatening tone he had used before. "Could make this pretty mouth behave..." He added, looking right into your soul, bending slightly towards you.

You felt like the tension was about to make your whole body burst. There was something between you two, you were sure he could feel it too. A sinuous, dark creature swimming and circling incessantly under the surface of a frozen lake; waiting, craving to be unleashed, to break the thin layer of ice that was keeping it caged.

He was inviting you to measure yourself to him. Bent towards you, wanting you to close the other half of the space between you both. A challenge, or a mark of respect, the case you didn’t want to venture into this territory.

But truth was, you wanted to. You wanted to break the ice yourself, you wanted to just kiss him, right here, right now.

Of course, it was a bad idea. And you were a professional, on a mission.

Instead, you put your hand on his bicep and brought your head inches away from his, not closing the space between your mouths. You’re accepting this silent fight, excited to show him what you’re capable of. You’re enveloped by his strong scent; your lips so close to his. You can see by his widening smirk how delighted he is you didn’t change your mind nor lost your guts. Responding to your bold move, he slowly snaked an arm around your waist. His hand landed on your lower back, just on the verge of being offensive.

Both of you stayed like this for a moment, your breath mixing, merging in a dangerous and exciting cocktail, but neither of you actually crossing the limit.

He could sense just how close he was to though, his muscles were tensed under your fingers, his forehead almost resting on yours with a light frown on it. You could see in his impassive handsome face a whole new emotion. 

Pure, raw lust.

"You're such a temptatious, thorny rose..." He mumbled in a hot whisper against your lips, the warmth between your legs now burning like a wildfire. Your pussy was aching for him, and you couldn't hold it anymore.

You felt his body twitching as he was going to finally do it, finally break the ice of the frozen lake, finally let his impulses and needs break free, his unholy, deep, atrociously torturous desires-

"Ah, Arthur !" A relieved voice interrupted both of you and he immediately let go of you, his head snapping to look at the man who had talked, eyes widening.

A tall gentleman with a perfectly cut mustache as black as his long curly hair and hat was looking at your companion with a contained,  amused smile.

"Will you excuse us, Miss?" He said unctuously to you, his voice polite and charming.

It was more of a statement than a question. He quickly took one of your hands and put a polite kiss on it before bending slightly towards you, as a gentleman would, and looked at your opponent with an insistent gaze.

Arthur was fulminating. He wasn't actually showing it, his face had come back to its usual cold, emotionless expression. But you could feel from where you were the unbearable tension and frustration that was dripping from his body language, almost as a halo of warmth you could physically touch with your hands. He took a last look at you, eyes expressing a mix of regret and bitterness.

"Goodnight, Miss." He coldly greeted you, walking next to you to follow his friend and go down the stairs, his shoulder brushing against yours while doing it.

"Goodnight, Arthur..." You answered him emphasizing his name once again, making it really clear that you remembered it was not the one he had given you and that you were pretty proud you had seen right. A playful, teasing grin on your face, you look one last time at him before he vanished in the ocean of guests.

Your Butterfly had disappeared just as quickly as he had materialized; leaving you alone with the empty cocoons once more. It was more than time for you to do your job and get out of here. Your cigarette finished, now feeling cold between your fingers, you tossed it away and headed into the mansion, feeling just as frustrated as so-called Arthur.

Arthur was pissed. He had never felt so frustrated in ages, and it was making his thoughts even less easy to discipline. His cigarette was on the verge of being smoked all at once from how intense he was getting and how heavy his breath had turned, the end of it constantly burning in a red shining little point as he was walking. 

This whole year he had felt like he didn't have any control over anything anymore and he hated it.

He was already feeling embittered in his everyday life, Dutch listening less and less to his opinion, Micah sneaking around him more and more, Mary coming back to him just to ask him to help her goddamn father who had always treated him like shit. 

On top of that, Dutch had made him look like an idiot using his actual name in front of you, making him wonder what was even the whole point of having a cover if he wasn't capable of sticking to it; which he had bitterly pointed out to him, but his superior had shrugged it off, seemingly happy to be here amongst the important people, looking as careless as ever.

Yes, Arthur was feeling frustrated, frustrated and tired of this. Tonight, instead of giving of himself, he wanted to take, for once. He needed to, even. He was about to before being interrupted, and this thought was gnawing at him from the inside. 

He was barely paying attention to what Dutch was saying to him and the others once Hosea and Bill had joined them. All he could see was your insanely beautiful face, your inviting lips, the perfect outline of your breasts from your cleavage, like engraved into his pupils.

The way you were talking, charming and teasing, the way you were smoking, all of this dreadfully turning him on during all your conversation. He had made an enormous amount of effort in order not to just kiss you.

He had joked about you being a witch, but it was the only explanation: you had bewitched him, threw your darkest, most sinful curse on him. Never in his life he had felt so attracted to someone after having talked with them for only such a short amount of time. What an insane fool he was.

On top of it, he was raging about the fact he probably wouldn't have the occasion to see you ever again. He had understood you clearly weren't just another rich man's wife, and he was certain you had given him a false name. His cock was throbbing terribly hurtfully in his pants, making his jaw clench, his brows frowning even more than usual. It was begging to be buried in you, between your legs, in your mouth, or your hands, even your breasts or your ass, anything but the cold feeling of nothingness he was feeling right now around it.

The sudden explosive sound and colorful lighting of fireworks had pulled him out of his blasphemous thoughts. 

He understood Dutch was ordering him something about following one of the Mayor's domestic, and gladly obliged, relieved to have another thing to focus on. Something about Cornwall sending an important letter to Lemieux, which he had to steal. Nothing difficult, he had done those sorts of things countless times. 

Nothing new. 

Nothing puzzling, like you had been.

As he followed the man, eyes locked on his white suit from afar, he quickly took a glance at the patio to see if you were still there. You weren't. His dick ached as he let out a deep exhale. Damn it.

Arthur rapidly found himself inside the Mayor's house. His servant had entered what looked like an office. He waited a few seconds after the room had felt silent, behind the corner of the walls, just to be sure, and entered it.

The room was indeed an office, a little desk with an armchair on his left, bookcases covering every wall, simply illuminated by a flickering orange lamp. Everything looked normal, except for the dark figure of a person in the middle of the place.

You.

He recognized your sensual dress immediately and witnessed you shoving some papers in what looked like a leathered little pocket held around your right thigh by leathered straps, just like a holster would be. His mind raced, a million reflections flying under his eyes. 

You were some sort of professional thief. And he didn’t have to be a genius to understand you had just taken the precise thing he was there for.

"That's why you were here, lil' rose?!" He asked you almost in disbelief, closing the door behind him.

You looked at him with a bold grin, looking almost amused by the situation. He, on the other hand, felt nothing but amusement. Anger, to have been fooled so easily, and that you had got ahead of him, losing the quiet game that had been played out between you. Envy, as you were now possessing two things he wanted to take away from you. Arousal, as his eyes were glued to the thigh that was now visible to his greedy eyes as you had pulled up your dress to put the sheets in your hidden pocket. Need, as his member felt hard again just by the sight of you doing it.

"Yeah, and you can only dream for me to give them to you if those papers were your target too, Arthur."

Damn, that teasing, cheeky mouth of yours. His fantasies came back in full force, and his gaze darkened. As temptatious as you were, he needed those documents. And he would do anything he had to to have them back.

"Give ‘em to me." He lowly ordered you, voice so severe you could have melted right into the carpeted floor of this damn office. But you didn't.

"Hell no."

"Give ‘em t’me, woman. I won't ask nicely a third time."

"If you want them, you'll have to catch me, pretty boy."

Lord, why was everyone so prompt to call him this way lately? He almost grunted at the way you had said it, and he would have lied if this time he didn't like it when it fell from your lips. He wanted to reply with something witty and even more threatening, but in a flash, you had opened the window, and easily jumped outside.

This Goddamn woman. What was she exactly? Some sort of feline? Yeah, probably a panther, agile, impressive, dangerous like one.

He instantly ran after you, jumping through the window too, landing in a loud thud. He quickly spotted your dress running away, escaping by the entry’s portal, then in the nearest street, disappearing behind St Denis's myriad of flashing lights. 

How could he had missed it? His mind was filled with images of it.

He had the common decency of grabbing back his gun from the butler at the party's entry, making him almost fall on the ground as he hadn't slowed but had grabbed them while running, the poor man wondering what the Hell made both of these people in such a hurry.

He was now flying at full speed around the luxurious streets, following the faint glimpse of your dress's color at the corner of every turn. He felt like he could follow your scent like a hunting dog, your sweet and peachy perfume confirming him you had passed there before.

He had enough, feeling his restrain and manners crackling more and more into little pieces. You were making him feel like a damn animal, reducing his whole being to primal needs and functions. He should have been disgusted with himself for that. But all he could do right now was thinking about the damn documents hidden against your damn alluring thigh.

"Stop now, you Goddamn... Evil woman!" He tried to call you out, but you just wouldn't stop. He started firing at you, getting angrier and more fed up by the second, a bullet exploding a piece of the bricked wall right next to your head, some splinters cutting slightly the top of your ear.

You bent over to dodge his bullets one more time and you heard him cursing again loudly behind you. On top of being big, strong and clever, he was fast. In a quick movement of your feet, shaking them, you removed your shoes, unable to run at your fastest speed with heels. You continued your frenzied course, way more at ease.

Arthur rushed in where you were just mere seconds after you, noticing the shoes abandoned on the floor. What the Hell was even this woman, he asked himself for the second time this evening. Some sort of temptatious, dark retelling of Cinderella?

He almost made himself laugh at the thought, understanding your move because his own polished shoes were frankly a pain to run with, making him slip with every shift as if he was walking on soap and regret his good old boots, before acknowledging he had lost your trace.

Shit!

He looked all around him, his eyes scanning every inch, his breath rapid and sharp, his forehead and neck a pool of sweat. No signs of you, unless... 

Something fell right on his face, but gently, as a caress from a fresh breeze. Your perfume filled up his nostrils and lungs and it made his heart race. He took it in his hands, the sensations pleasant under his fingerprints. 

It was your black shawl.

Tilting his head up, he found you.

You were making your way up to the roof of the town by climbing on a thin ladder.

Arthur exhaled deeply through his nose like a buffalo. He was used to this kind of high-speed chase, but this was a whole new thing, which made him regret his lasso too, his hand searching for it on his belt out of habit but closing on nothing. 

Damned party, damned suit, damned you. 

He climbed after you, refusing to give up, enraged like a wild beast. 

He would catch you, dead or alive.

In a way, this was making him even more aroused than any work-girl show he had ever seen.

"I'm going to kill ya, that's a promise!"

You could hear just how furious his voice was now, and you were starting to pray you would flee successfully from him, cause you knew he would eat you alive if he could get his hands on you.

Arriving on top of the building, you caught your breath for a microsecond, before searching for a way out, gaze frantic, heart beating out of your chest. You were considering climbing to another roof, but the deep, breathless sounds of your pursuer prevented you from doing more thinking.

Arthur had reached the top of the roof too, and was already aiming his gun at you. This time he didn't even bother to say anything, shooting at you again while getting up. He was so seething you wouldn’t have been surprised to see saliva bubbling from his mouth.

By divine intervention, you dodged again, and without any thinking, you ran all the way to the edge of the roof, and jumped.

You stayed in the air for a few seconds.

You felt like time had stopped, the air brushing against your skin, your heart hanging somewhere between the sky and the total void.

You landed on a fancy and illuminated balcony a few meters away. You hurt your feet and legs with the shock, but smiled proudly to yourself. You were out of reach, he was way bigger and way heavier than you, there was no way he coul-

A gigantic mass fell on you, as Arthur had proved you wrong and jumped from the roof you had just left and was crashing directly into you. 

Both of you fell on the ground and struggled for a few seconds; you tried to resist him but it was a fight already lost, this literal force of nature easily handling you like he wanted. 

You ended up lying on your back, Arthur sitting on you, towering over you with all his might, quickly grabbing your wrists to prevent you from fighting, his legs parted around your hips stopping you from escaping. You were trapped.

"You're a pain in the ass girl, you know that?!" He shouted at you, breathless, raging mad. You were both panting, sweating heavily. His face was entirely red, and your cheeks even more crimson.

You both looked at each other, eyes locked, and you stayed silent. The dark creature prowling under the thin floe had returned and it was getting bigger, stronger, out of control with each passing second. There was something extremely erotic in the way he was almost lying on top of you, both of you out of breath, sweaty, and burning red, both your hearts beating at full speed in the same erratic rhythm.

Just like before at the reception, you knew he could feel it too. You knew it from the dark gaze he was looking at you with, the shady swirls of the murky leviathan reflecting in the depths of his pupils, from the deepest well of his urges, forbidden territory to which no man ever had access.

A simple touch of his hand, that's all it took.

He put both of your hands into a single one of his, using his other one to pull up your dress, fingers roaming on your thigh.

You couldn't hold it anymore, you bent toward him and slammed your lips against his in the most powerful and decadent kiss you had ever shared with someone, almost biting him.

The moment you did, Arthur's mind exploded, and every poor drop of restrain he had evaporated as quickly as if it was on the Sun's surface. The beast had won, finally shattering the weak layer of ice into a million pieces; your two souls blending in what could have felt like a fevered dream.

The grunt he let out onto your kiss was animalistic, and the tension in his body just as powerful as a waterfall with a brutal, unstoppable current. The hand that was holding your wrist let go of it and slipped under your head, fingers in your hair, as his tongue licked against your lips, searching for a way in. You let him in, eagerly, wondering if he would have forced the way if you didn’t. 

He tasted strong, as if to match his whole being, a powerful flavor of tobacco, merged with a faint trace of sweetness and bitterness from the champagne he had drank. Like if you were smoking the finest and strongest of cigars. It made you love it even more.

Abandoning all your restraints too, your hands wrapped around his neck and your hips started pushing up against his, even if you couldn't move much, his two muscular thighs keeping you grounded to the balcony's paved floor. It felt so cold against your back, contrasting with the heat Arthur was burning with, consuming, devastating, raging.

He growled again when he felt your movement under him. He needed more of you, right now. This whole seduction game, the adrenaline rose by the chase, your bold charming attitude, your insanely insolent beauty, it was making him insane. He roughly ripped off his bowtie with one hand, needing some air; it felt like you two were under the desert’s scorching sun, stifling, dazing. 

The right hand he had on your thigh traveled even higher under your dress, devouring every inch of flesh it could, and his appetite was only getting worse the more he discovered you. He smoothly moved his legs from around yours to put himself between them, and you instantly, almost from instinct, hooked them around his hips.

The sudden contact of your blazing core against his equally hot bulge made you sigh in pleasure, and he loved it. Breaking your kiss for the first time since you had initiated it, he pulled back to look at you, his deep gaze devouring you, undressing you just by its stare. 

“What’s your real name?” He asked you, voice hoarser than ever, demanding it from you.

You told him your name, limbs feeling like mush under his intense eyes. He repeated it quietly, like a prayer he would recite on his own. You felt less and less like the panther you thought you were, and more and more like he was the predator alone. In a shaking tone, you questioned back to know his full, real name, needing to know what words you’d have to whisper in gratitude when he would finally take what he wanted from you. To whisper, or shout to the Heavens.

“Arthur Morgan.” He let out, his lips quickly returning to their current addiction, your skin. The way they were attacking your neck didn’t have an ounce of control now, his mouth opening widely to almost take a whole bite of your flesh there, letting kisses everywhere it could.

“Tell me if you don’t want this.” He added against your skin, between two greedy open-mouth kisses.

A way to escape. The predator stilling, letting a way out. But you didn't wanted it. Not at all. Not now that he had surrendered to you, trusting you with the intimacy of his real name, that would be stuck in your mind for God knows how long.

“I want it.” You asserted, voice almost cracking with the weight of your need.

He moaned a relieved sound in answer, his nose exhaling some air that tickled your neck.

You weren’t even sure he could stop himself if you had said no. He was consuming you, and he felt completely drunk, as if you were coated with a powerful whiskey. Strong alcohol that his tongue was now licking all the way from your shoulder, up to your ear.

You moaned, the feeling of his hungriness so good and perfect on you.

"Gonna take care of ya now." He growled in a rumbling whisper, making your legs feel weak. Another one of his promises, but this one was going to give you salvation, and you were thanking him for keeping it. 

The bold hand he had under your dress took another step towards insanity by landing on your undergarments, his thick fingers searching for a way in. You were trembling with anticipation. You couldn't even register the fact that you were really doing this, right now, with a complete stranger you had met only a few hours ago, and who wanted to kill you minutes before, on the balcony of what looked like a habited place.

The obscenity, the depravation, the boldness of it was only matched by his relentless thirst for you.

His fingers had finally pulled your underwear to the side, and you sighed seeing him on top of you, eyes drawn to your bare pussy, carnal features empathized by the obscurity of the night. The tip of his fingers traveled amongst your folds, wolves into the forest, a territory they were now claiming as theirs.

You almost begged for him, for the wolves to eat you up all and let nothing behind them, please Arthur, and he offered you this damnation, the desperate call of his name igniting another fire in his already infernal mind. A single, calloused finger pushed into your folds, making you spread your legs even more to grant it better access. It was stretching you pleasantly, his skin rough and firm inside. You started letting out sweet, quiet moans, showing him just how much you were enjoying this.

Your two hands now gripping his back, holding on for something, anything, his dark jacket suddenly feeling way too smooth to grab onto; you were wondering how touching his naked back could feel.

Arthur was doing everything in his power not to burst once more, grunting in response to your loving sound. Slowly, he pushed another one, thriving in how wet and hot your cunt felt around his fingers, craving for the moment he would finally be able to feel this downright perfection around his cock. He felt like he was ruining you, throwing you to these wolves, and you were thanking him for it.

For now, he focused on you, blue eyes glued on your face when he started curling his digits inside of you, searching for this so special, so delightful spot within your walls. He was observant, noticing every sound you were making, every muscle tensing, to know if it was the place you liked that he was brushing right now. Wanting it to be the place you liked most.

By adding his thumb on your clit and pushing a little deeper his index and middle finger in your desperate pussy, he realized he finally had found the Graill as your back arched against the ground, your own hands gripping harder on him, eyes shutting in pure pleasure.

"Oh, God! Yes, right there..." You rewarded him, voice high-pitched and filled with delight, a tingling sensation spreading on your legs and shoulders.

He exhaled deeply, your words making his own member gorging, pressing against the fabric of his suit that felt too small to contain him. He started pushing in and out, pulling a whine out of your throat with every movement, as the thick tip of his fingers rubbed against your sweet spot every time, wolves once again in a world of sweetness and honey, lapping your delight, feasting on your pleasure.

“Told ya I would make this pretty mouth behave…” He said cockily after one of your moans. He was enjoying this all too much, finally feeling in control again, being the one and only responsible for your ecstasy. 

The distance between his mouth and you seemed to be unacceptable for him as he had succumbed once more to his needs, his lips finding your skin again, tongue tasting, teasing your chest this time, everywhere he could on the cleavage he had desired since the first time he had laid eyes on you tonight. Bent over to you, looking like a curved beast feasting on its prey.

You were feeling your pleasure building, Arthur’s face hungrily searching for one of your nipples under the neckline of your dress, and sucking it once he had finally found it. His teeth and nose had pulled your dress, freeing your entire left breast, bare, defenseless in front of him. 

Maybe he was the wolf himself. He sure looked like it, his face a maw fed by your soft flesh.

Every nerve of your pussy screamed for deliverance, this familiar sensation taking form in your lower stomach. Your moans were becoming even more high-pitched, breathless, almost obscene, much to the outlaw's delight.

You had thought of him before being a terribly efficient and multi-functional weapon. You couldn’t have known just how right you had been, your hardening nipple still chewed by his mouth while his right hand was sending you to your edge, thumb skillfully circling on your clit faster and faster, the two other fingers tearing apart your sweet spot, in and out, in and out, again and again, until…

“A-Arthur, don’t stop, please!” Your voice slit the night open, tone pleading as if you were begging for your life.

“I won’t girl, it’s all okay… Give it t’me…” He encouraged you, even his breath feeling rough against the skin of your chest before he sucked hard on the skin of one of your breasts, accompanying you to your salvation.

It was enough to send you over your limit, your pussy clenching, throbbing, entirely consumed. You moaned so loudly it could have turned into a scream, hips jerking against his palm, his other hand quickly grabbing your hip to steady you and carry you through it as his fingers were dragging every last drop of your pleasure out of you. 

“Yeahhh, that’s it gorgeous, just like that…”

He was frowning, the sinful sensations of your wet cunt coating his fingers in a warm slick and tensing around them making his eyebrow and jaw just as tensed, his face just a hint of how fucking riled up he was because of it.

Your head was still spinning and your breath uneven when he finally pulled his digits out of your walls, the fresh air replacing them. Lost in your haze, you weren't capable of doing anything else but looking at him through lidded, heavy eyes.

He was absolutely beautiful, even more than at the start of the night. His true nature out at last, his white fancy shirt disheveled now that he had removed his bowtie and soaked from efforts. Cheeks and throat as red as a sanguine sunset. Pearls of sweat sparkling on his burning skin with the Ocean of street lights of St Denis, reminding you of a night sky, making his sandy hair stick to his forehead in the hottest way possible. 

You didn't knew how could all this had escalated so quickly, but at that moment, you felt like this man before you was your whole universe, his deep ultramarine eyes completing the stellar work of art he was, shining, shimmering, more than any star in the sky, as if the Gods had capture the entire Milky Way and imprisoned it in his being.

Arthur had ultimately pulled his cock out of his black suit pants, only piece of flesh out of his clothes, and your thoughts were immediately contradicted; there was no way any virtuous God could have made a man so depraved. He was the work of the Other Side, Lust and Temptation personified. King of the wolves, he could have had all the Hounds of Hell kneeling before him.

He pumped himself a few times, unable to resist the call his member had been screaming for hours, reinforced by the way his fingers had tasted your wet cavern. Some precum had already leaked from his big pinkish head when he was fingering you and was now glistening in the night, making you think about the stars again. Your breath got caught at this sight and you couldn't stop yourself from letting out a praise.

"Perfect..." You simply stated in a whisper, eyes glued to his throbbing, veiny member, relieved he had already pulled an orgasm out of you because there was no way he could have fit in you otherwise. Your eyes followed the dark path of his hair, from the glimpse you had on his chest between the open collar of his shirt, all the way down to his pelvis and at the base of his shaft. 

You could only imagine what it looked like without any clothes on, and you were dying to know.

"Trust me, you're the perfect one, darlin'." He asserted, firm tone leaving little to contradiction. 

He positioned himself in front of your entrance.

You weren't even completely back from the world your first relief had brought you to, and he was already at your door again. But this time, Arthur couldn’t stop himself.

He had given once again, just like always. Now he wanted to take. He needed to take. The starving, depraved wolf. Slowly pushing, teasing himself, making his cock’s head sink into your dripping territory, creating wet and soggy sounds, a hardened spear into honey. 

He couldn't hold back a baritone moan, the feeling was even better than what he remembered. He hadn't taken the time or allowed himself to lay with a woman in ages, and God, what a return to this primal bliss.

He slowly moved some more, his hands spreading your legs a bit wider from around his waist to allow him to penetrate you more easily. Once you had entirely enveloped him, his tip deep inside, he let out another deep throaty grunt, the feeling making it hard for him to keep his thoughts clear. 

"Ahh... Shit, darlin’... So tight…"

Considering how his length was stretching you, you bet he felt your pussy tight. The first word that came into your mind was “complete”. So complete with his huge cock inside of you; you felt like you could have died happily like this. One of your hands slipped from the top of his back to the lower part of it, just above his ass, pressing there, showing him just how much you wanted him to move, to let go. 

Arthur didn't need much more as he pulled back slowly only to snap his hips back against yours, his cock pushing again all the way through your cunt in one hard single time, giving you another wave of pleasure as you both moaned together, unable to resist the intense sensation he was creating for both of you.

Hearing you whine, finally feeling your perfectly tight and warm pussy around him, it was making him lose all sense of restraint, and as your other hand ran through his hair, your angelic voice whispering his name as if he was your Lord and savior, he lost it. 

He started to pull in and out of you faster, harder, your bodies colliding in a delicious way, obscene noises echoing through the silence of the darkness. His increase in pace made your body scream in pleasure and you buried your face into the crook of his neck under the collar of his shirt, biting his skin there.

It made him grunt loudly, and one of his hands roamed from your hips to your rear, grabbing a fistful of your ass in an instinctive response. His other hand was on the ground next to you, keeping him from crushing you against it. It made your head blank with pleasure.

"Shit, Arthur! M-more!" You begged, feeling like you could die if he stopped, your voice turning into high squeals.

"Anhh- God... More? Don’t worry girl, I'll g-give you more...-Mmh!" 

His voice was heavy with pleasure, words cut off by moans and grunts you were delighted to hear, the most unholy and arousing music you had ever had the honor to listen to.

True to his words, he obliged, hips thrusting endlessly, member empaling you with each move. You could feel the flesh of his pelvis against yours with how deep he dived into you, and around it the stiffness of his suit, rubbing again the breast he had pulled out of your dress before, nipple sensitive after his previous treatment. 

If what was between you was once a frozen lake, it had now turned into an Ocean of lava, magma exploding, engulfing both of you in the most burning and devastating passion you'd ever experienced, a volcanic explosion of desires.

The hand he had on your asscheek reluctantly let go of it, but you ended up thanking him for it, cause he was now using it to put your left leg above his shoulder, grabbing under your knee, allowing him to fuck you in an even better angle than before. He was ruining you once again, but this time felt like the pack of starving enraged wolves had taken him with you to consume him entirely.

You leaned against the floor, back of your head feeling the paved coldness, only hint that everything was actually real. Arthur's eyes locked with yours as he kept on fucking you hard and fast, this intimate contact making his member twitch.

You felt so goddamn good around him, and looked so goddamn gorgeous like this, your cheeky grin long gone, replaced by a delightful frown of pleasure, mouth open in a quiet scream. Arthur felt his peak coming dangerously close, but his pace hadn't slowed, his fat cock thrusting in and out of you. In and out, like a furious, sacred metronome. In an out, like a blessed psalm you'd both be reciting together.

“Come on girl, I know you have another, -Damn it!-, another one in ya. Give it to me, come on, jus’ for me…”

Words and voice drowned in a flood of pleasure and curses, of deep grunts and growls, his possessiveness sending you over the edge once again, your inside closing its trap around him, squeezing just how he needed to.

His eyes shut close, eyebrows furrowing in utter pleasure as he sank so hard and deeply you could have felt him splitting your guts in half, his dick throbbing and harder than ever. It reached a spot so deep and good inside of you, burning it, your pleasure bursting as you felt your orgasm coming for the second time.

"A-Arthur!" You cried out as you came around him, creaming him, walls clenching in a delicious sensation that made him reach the stars.

"God, damn it!" He shouted, voice deeper and rougher on the curse word before quickly removing himself from you in a flash of lucidity, finishing messily, cum spilling from his red sensitive member in white spurts that ended up right on your belly as a feral, powerful growl escaped his chest and his head tilted backward, letting you see his throat covered in sweat and veins.

For a moment, both of you had turned into beasts, shattered all the limits, broke all the shackles, diminishing you into your more primitive instincts. The Wolves of Lust had devoured your being into the very last delicious bone.

And that’s how you felt. Boneless.

Now, stillness. A cold breeze enveloped the pair of you, the only sounds now being the distant agitation of the city and your pantless breaths. He slowly brought his chin back down and opened his eyes, mesmerized by the sight of you returning from the realm of pure pleasure he had provided for you for the second time.

He felt powerful. He felt good. Better than he had for months, finally satisfied. Like a God, a King. King of all the Wolves, Cerberus, the only guardian of your unholy realm.

He wanted to do this again with you, as soon as possible.

He carefully put his softening dick back in its clothed cage, fingers fumbling with the buttons of his pants as he felt completely spent, his hands shaking slightly. He wanted to help you get cleaned up, but you had already brushed what you could of his release off your dress. 

It would probably leave stains on your clothing nevertheless. 

A twisted, dark part of him, the part that came from the same pit as the dark creature and the Wolves, felt almost aroused and proud at the thought you would keep an imprint of him on it. This part was relishing noticing the big ruby mark it had left on your breast as you were putting it back under your neckline; he grinned to himself knowing it would make your memories of him more difficult to forget. 

He didn't want you to forget.

He slowly got up, offering you his hand to help you stand. You quickly put back your dress in its usual state, and wiped the sweat off your forehead. A silence settled between you two, thousands of questions floating in the air, but none of you ready to ask them out loud yet.

Finally, as you started shivering, only realizing now how cold this night was without Arthur's burning hot body on top of you, he spoke, voice even hoarser from having pushed on it too much, accent making every world sound heavy when they fell from his mouth.

"When can I see you again?" More than a demand, a promise. An order even. Cerberus needs his territory.

You already knew he kept them; his promises. Except for the one he had made to kill you. But in a way, he did, because you felt like you wouldn’t be able to ever feel so alive again without him. 

Like a condemnation.

"You won't." 

Certainty in your voice. But he didn't mind it. He had already broken you before.

"Oh, but I think I will, darlin'." Was all he said before stepping over the fence of the balcony, ready to jump off it. Before doing it, he pulled something out of his jacket and waved it at you.

The fucking papers.

A lightning of understanding and panic struck you; what you had thought was a lustful touch on your thigh, the one that had set everything on fire between the both of you, that had unleashed the Wolves, was in reality his sneaky hand retrieving the document from your hidden pocket.

Shit!

He gave you his cocky grin, blue gaze sparkling with mischief, greeting you with a two finger’s salute then jumped, disappearing in the night, away from you once again. You could have gone after him, as much as your weak and spent body would have allowed you to, but somehow, after all that he had done to you tonight, you felt like he had well deserved those damned letters.

tagging: @a-court-of-valkyries credits: Arthur's pic is not mine, belongs to fv8tt on Pinterest. Dividers and little moths doodle by me.

I reall hope you liked this one! I'm thinking about writing another part where the reader could confront Arthur again... Tell me if you'd like that! -Pine 🌱

[wandasslut3000]

Are you desperate for me?

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, car sex, sub!reader, thigh riding, fingering, sex pollen, breast play, marking, praise, cum play, semi clothed sex, mentions of drug trafficking and death.

WC: 2.24k

               ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You and Wanda are currently in Bari, Italy, on a mission to find locate and arrest a dangerous drug dealer that is rumored to be heading towards London for an important deal.

Your goal is to find his base of operations and destroy his current supply. The suspect in question, Cecil Adams, otherwise known as 'The Count', has been injecting his victims with his test products.

Almost all of them ended up dead within minutes.

"Oh come on."

"It's for the good of the people" Tony said and you rolled your eyes.

"So me and Wanda have to cancel our honeymoon just to find some wack ass Peter Piper? Why can't the police just deal with it?" 

"They've tried, but every officer they sent has come back in a casket. You know we wouldn't have asked you if we didn't need to, but the rest of the team is already assigned elsewhere." Steve informed, crossing his arms and expressing a look of sympathy.

You groaned as you buried your face in your hands in annoyance. Wanda grabbed your hand, stroking the back of it her thumb as an attempt to help you calm down.

"A week in Italy wouldn't really be so bad, just think of it as a last minute change of venue." She whispered and you brought your head up to look at her and her bright green eyes.

"I... alright, fine." You couldn't bring yourself to argue with her, turning back to look back at Tony and Steve.

"You owe us two weeks off after this." Both men nodded in agreement.

Four days into your stay, you and Wanda had found his headquarters, an abandoned wear-house at the edge of the city.

You and your wife are rigging the place to blow. Members of S.H.E.L.D waiting just outside of the property as backup.

Wanda had used her magic to knock out the guards surrounding the area, putting handcuffs onto each of them, and with a snap of her fingers, she'd sent them straight into the secured van.

"You done, baby?" You ask Wanda through your earpiece.

"Everything's all set over here"

"Alright then, just make sure you're safe ok?"

You back away from the building with the remote trigger in your hand, your backpack filled with product in the other, you'd managed to sneak in prior and retrieve some per S.H.E.L.D's instructions.

"I will be detka, are you?"

"I'm safe" You assure her as you take small steps backward and away from the building.

Suddenly you feel a cool piece of metal brace itself against your throat, strong muscular arms wrapping themselves around you.

You sigh, reaching for the man's wrists and throwing him on the ground, the knife in his hand flying into the distance.

You hear him groan before you flip him on his back, grabbing a pair of handcuffs from your bag and putting his hands behind his back, locking him in place.

"For someone who's created such a hassle, you really need better fighting skills." You mutter, Wanda picking everything through the mic.

You cuff him and grab him by his hair, holding his head up. Pulling a chloroform-laced cloth from your pocket, you knock him unconscious.

"Luybov? What happened?"

"We've caught our culprit." You chuckle as you picked the man up, throwing him over your shoulder and heading towards the front of the warehouse.

You set Adams down, his body limp against the cemented ground.

"Ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."

"5... 4... 3... 2... 1..."

Boom.

The warehouse erupts into a riot of flames, painting the area in orange and red.

You notice a puff of smoke head in your direction but it's unlike anything you've seen before, it was... pink?

You tried your best to avoid it but you couldn't, the cloud reaching you and the moment you inhaled it, you cough heavily.

Wanda uses her powers to contain the fire and puts it out, red wisps of her magic encasing the remaining smoke, clearing it into thin air.

Once you can finally breathe, you turn to pick Adams up and hand him into S.H.E.I.L.D's custody. A group of agents taking him into the back of the van along with rest of his henchmen.

You hand one agent your bag of evidence, receiving a nod in thanks before they get inside and drive off.

"You alright?" You feel Wanda's hand grab your shoulder from behind you, her voice is laced with so much love and a hint of worry that makes you fall even deeper for this woman.

You nod, turning to face her and wrapping your arms around her neck, pulling her in for a desperately lustful kiss.

The moment your lips make contact you can't help the moan you let out at the sensation. When you pull apart, she noticed how of how your pupils have dilated drastically.

"I think it's time we go back to the hotel, don't you agree?" Your fingers playing with the pendant of her necklace, Wanda smiles back at you and nods, giving you another peck that makes your heart skip a beat.

You'd never felt this needy before.

She brushes her hand past your ear making your breath hitch, disappoint running though you when you realize she was only trying to grab your earpiece, taking her's out right after and putting them in her pocket.

Hand in hand, you both head to car that Tony had lent you for your time here. Wanda opens the door for you, a blush painting your cheeks at her chivalry.

She then heads into her spot in the drivers seat, starting up the car and putting the hotels address in the built-in GPS system.

Once on your way, you feel Wanda's hand on your thigh, giving it a light squeeze. You were starting to lose your composure, though the act was innocent, the heat in your pants was becoming unbearable.

"Oh my poor baby," she coos, "I can read your thoughts; they're quite loud."

"Are you desperate for me?"

You feel your eyes shut for a moment at her accent slipping into her words, your thighs clenching at the rasp in her voice.

You grab her hand, bringing it down to your clothed pussy, making her feel how your wetness had already stained through your uniform.

Wanda bites her lip, making a sudden turn, slowing down, and coming to a complete stop in an empty lot. You look at the screen on the dashboard, your hotel a fifteen-minute drive away.

You awkwardly shift towards her, straddling her lap, and reaching to the side for the lever of the seat, pushing it downwards.

She cups your cheeks and kisses you deeply, your tongues meshing together in a familiar dance.

Wanda unzips your suit from the front, smiling at your lack of bra. You pull apart so you can slip it off and throw it somewhere into the backseat, leaving you in just your panties.

You gasp when she sucks different marks onto your neck and collarbone, teasing you.

She's looking at you with innocent eyes, batting her lashes and pressing kisses against your skin, she then takes your nipple into her mouth, her free hand toying with your other breast, making you throw your head back in pleasure.

You move your hands to the back of her head, moaning lightly whilst treading your fingers through her silky strands. "You want me to touch you detka?" She mumbles against you and your breathing gets heavier. 

"Please."

You buck your hips against her, grinding on her thigh pathetically, the friction of your panties brushing against your clit in the just the right way, little gasps and moans escaping your throat without permission.

Wanda releases your nipple, a string of saliva being the only thing connecting her to your chest, the sight making you whimper.

You look down at her with dewy eyes, the ache in between your legs becoming unbearable. Your breath shudders when you feel her fingers slip your underwear off, making contact with your wet folds, and you bite your lip at the feeling.

"So wet for me." She whispers, your eyes shutting when her slim digits make contact with your clit, and you can't help the noises that escape your lips. "You like when I touch you like this princessa?"

"Yes- fuck." You moan when she starts to tease your entrance, spreading your wetness thought your folds. When her fingers finally enter you, your eyes roll to the back of your head as she starts to pump them in and out of you.

"Such a pretty girl." Wanda coos, placing hot open mouthed kisses on your neck and jawline, her fingers curling ever so slightly on every pull out driving you insane, a familiar hot coil building up in your stomach.

Wanda repositions her hand, placing her two fingers on her pubic bone, using her free hand to help guide you into riding her.

"You make such pretty noises my darling, make some more." she smiles sweetly at you, making you groan at her words.

Your hands fly to her shoulders to help hold you up, your nails digging into the fabric of her suit, her lips back going to suck onto your nipples, your hips bucking frantically in your effort to chase you upcoming climax.

"Mm- mhmm, yes- Wanda, right- right there!" You squeal when she moves her thumb to put pressure on your neglected bundle of nerves.

"You're so beautiful" she murmurs against you before she pulls away, moving her other hand towards your ass, squeezing it gently.

"I'm gonna cum... fuck, baby I'm gonna cum! " Your eyes roll as you let the pleasure faze through you, you hide your face into her neck though your orgasm, pressing a light kiss there as your body trembles around her.

"You did so good detka, such a good girl." You hear her praise, rubbing up and down your back soothingly, as you slowly start to come down from you high.

When you lean back and open your eyes, they land on a lust ridden Sokovian, her pupils completely enlarged as she pulls her digits out of you.

Wanda brings her fingers towards her lips before slipping them both into her mouth, You feel another surge of wetness flow through you, slightly coating Wanda's thighs with my you slick.

She hums, "So sweet." She says as the swipes her fingers through your folds again, your head falling onto her shoulder as you shudder at the feeling.

You feel Wanda hold you up slightly, digits coated with your cum, you moan when she starts to pull at your nipples. "You like that, don't you?" She smiles before pulling you into another kiss.

She moves her lips downwards towards your chest, taking each bud into her mouth, tasting your juices as she swirls her tongue around them.

"Do you think you can do one more for me?" You nod, and she positions you onto her left thigh, guiding you hips as you start to grind onto her.

You whimper as your clit comes into contact with her skin each time you move your hips, Wanda pulls you into another lip lock, grabbing you by the back of your neck with one hand while her other one helps your movements.

"God- you feel so good..."

Wanda smirks against your lips before moving her hand from my hips towards your overstimulated clit, rubbing tight circles around it before pinching it, sending you into a deeper state of pleasure.

You scream her name and a string of curses, trying to steady your breathing. "So perfect for me." She whispers as she kisses your forehead.

"I love you" You say as you kiss her nose, watching how it scrunches adorably.

"I love you too" She returns, pecking your lips and hugging you close. Both of you sighing in content at the skin on skin contact.

[lincolndjarin]

hollow star ⊹₊⟡⋆ ch. one

chapter one : when flesh meets steal

ao3 kofi main masterlist (series masterlist coming soon )

pairing: din djarin x scientist!reader

rating: 18+ mdni - check chapter tags for cws

word count : 6.1k

summary: Din agrees to help you when he's sees the credits you're offering in exchange for protection, after all, it's a simple mission. Artifact retrieval and data collection.

That's what you told him.

And why wouldn't he believe you?

tags: strangers to lovers, horror, non-consensual voyeurism, slowburn, psycological horror, fear

70,000 CREDITS - PRIVATE ESCORT DETAIL : FREELANCE OPERATIVES ONLY

SERVICE TYPE: Discreet Escort / Protection Detail 

DURATION: 2 weeks (approximately) 

LOCATION: Classified - Outer Rim, unregistered planet (coordinates provided upon meeting)

COMPENSATION: 140,000 credits, 70,000 upfront, and the remainder upon completion of the job. (an additional 10,000 credits will be provided for every day of service required after the initial 2 weeks.)

BONUS: Hazard pay negotiable based on situational escalation.

REQUIREMENTS:  Combat experience, (soldier or soldier adjacent is preferable) must be familiar with navigation and willing to travel through hostile terrain. Preferably a ship that does not require a crew and has a solo operator. (negotiable) Must not be affiliated with the New Republic, or any Jedi-aligned factions. 

Private client requiring an armed escort for the purpose of a personal research trip. The objective being artifact retrieval and/or data extraction. No combat is anticipated but the client requests protection against potential scavengers or environmental threats. Client will not be armed. No questions asked, no answers expected, discretion is non-negotiable. 

There’s several blocked lines of text at the bottom of his monitor, encrypted information about the client that makes him furrow his brow. The black screen flickers a bit, his thoughts accompanied by the quiet hum of the space that surrounds the Razor Crest. 140,000 credits is nothing to scoff at, it’s the type of payment he’d expect on a high risk job, or something far more sinister than this. That kind of money is often offered up for jobs that most people wouldn’t choose because of its morality. Hit’s put out on children, or the defenseless. Or at the very least something that would take well over a few months. 

Not this, not a simple in and out escort job. 

The redacted information is concerning. Too concerning, even with the payout promised. His fingers type into the system for a few moments, trying to push through what he knows to be simple defenses put up by the guild before the screen blinks and the text is easily revealed to him. With a pleased sigh he sits back in his chair and reads. 

Client shows signs of previous Imperial affiliation, though not flagged for war crimes. Known history with a classified archives division. Linguist, no combat personnel history. Last known activity listed as an unexplained incident with a vault located at Station Mourna 2. (now sealed.) Was assigned to the Imperial Historical Recovery Taskforce, or I-HRT, division 12. No last known location. No existing warrants or bounties on head. 

The Imperial affiliation stands out to him but it reads like they had very little to do with anything more than their history department. Which seems benign enough and would explain the exorbitant fee. They can simply afford it. 

But there’s just something off about the listing. 

It should be so simple, it’s a clean cut job, a bit clinical, but nothing of the sort would be required of him. It’s the top left corner of the screen that makes him the most hesitant. 

36 applications received, 0 accepted. 

The client clearly requires someone experienced, it can’t even be seen by anyone without a certain guild clearance level but 0 acceptances out of 36? It’s unheard of, even with the pickiest clients. Anyone who would have applied at this point would have been more than qualified. 

Maybe the client is particular about certain things, or maybe they already found someone and forgot to remove the listing. Either way it’s simply too tempting to resist any longer. He needs the money, or at the very least he needs the distance. 

He can’t just keep waiting here, burning through fuel, for something that is never going to happen. 

He enters his guild code, fingers lingering above the send button before finally clicking it. Rocking back in the pilot's seat he lets his head fall back. Accepting the fact that he won’t be receiving a response before the message has even been fully sent out. 

So the immediate chime made by the ship's notification system is more than a shock as he sits back up. 

Congratulations! Your application has been accepted! The client will be waiting for you on : CORUSCANT 

Attached you will find the message provided by the client, best of luck!

I would like to be retrieved as quickly as possible from the Kaelen Memorial Travel Port. Payment will be exchanged immediately after boarding. Your haste is appreciated. 

Dr. Thorne

The response makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He can’t place the sense of dread this all fills him with but unfortunately his mind is made up. A lot of things fill him with dread these days, so he might as well make a little money. 

It’s not like he has anything left to lose.

⊹₊⟡⋆

Sleep doesn’t come easy to him.

It never has, but especially not these last few months. Almost always it’s just simple restlessness, a refusal to turn off the hunters instincts and relax. Waking up in a sweat after a dream of just barely snagging a bounty, or finding himself at the end of a blaster being wielded by one of the many nameless faces he’s turned in over the years.  

Tonight is different though. Tonight he sinks into sleep slowly, but deeply. 

When he wakes up he’s met with a feeling he hasn’t felt in decades. 

The wind. 

Cold, and sharp against his face as he cautiously gets to his feet. He’s standing in a field of ash, no visible sky above, only more grey and smoke. 

He manages to pull himself together enough to realize he’s dreaming but it doesn’t make him any less disoriented. His hands find his face, scratching at the unfamiliar sting of air on his flesh. Looking around and trying to take in his surroundings proves fruitless until something slowly slips through the smoke above him. Swaying back and forth in the breeze until it gingerly lands in his open hands. 

A feather. 

A dainty, black feather.

When he shifts his gaze upwards to find the source he finally finds something else in the endless expanse of space around him. A star. 

Although it’s barely that at all. 

Hanging from a mess of wires is a poorly made steel outline of a star, desperately trying to stay together as a few sparks twitch out of the exposed cables within. It tries to flicker, to turn on but all it manages is a pathetic glow from the hollow space within. It isn’t a normal light it emits either, he immediately recognizes it as the same glow made by the darksaber, instinctively he reaches for his hip to find it but only grabs air. Looking down in search of it forcefully makes him drop down a foot into the ash. 

Before he can find his footing he sinks again, another jolt down so that he’s up to his knees in ash. Frantically, he tries to hold onto something, anything, but there’s only more grainy ash, he finds no purchase as he sinks, quicker, and quicker, unable to hold on any longer he takes a deep breath, preparing for the punishing lack of oxygen he’s about to be faced with. 

And then he wakes up. 

Gasping, and clawing at the single sheet that lines the mattress in his bunk. 

It’s a tight squeeze when he leverages himself out, falling to his knees in the cargo hold of the ship, wildly ripping his helmet off before the air can properly depressurize, giving himself a sharp pain in his temples. He’s too desperate for air to care about the headache he’s gonna have for the rest of the day. 

⊹₊⟡⋆

It’s late. 

The port you’ve requested boarding at isn’t one he’s familiar with. Coruscant is a large planet though, and there’s plenty of places in the galaxy that he’s never been to. As he approaches the first thing he notes is how dark it is. The entire planet is lit up, especially from a distance. The mass of cities and the vibrant nightlife keep the planet well lit. Unfortunately for him, it seems you’ve chosen the only dark patch on the entire planet. It isn’t easy to calibrate the landing because of the lack of light, he can’t see anything clearly but it appears to be completely empty so he picks a random spot and prepares himself. 

The ship hovers above the crumbling refueling station, slowly descending before landing with a hiss of air. For the price attached to the job he certainly wasn’t expecting to dock in such a shitty spot. Unsure of what to expect he makes his way to the loading dock and lowers the ramp, before it even reaches the stone pathway a pair of boots land on the edge. 

Instinctively his hand twitches to his blaster as he assesses the figure. 

Alone, cloaked, and calm. Before him stands who he is certain must be his client. He was expecting a stony faced doctor, someone older, someone that looked like they’d spent plenty of time out in the field. 

Which is why he’s taken aback by the sight of you. 

Doe-eyed, looking out of place in the dark robes that adorn your body, the only out of place thing about you is the small pale scar along your jaw. In one swift motion you drag a large suitcase up onto the platform behind you. 

“Worn, but efficient.” Are the first words out of your mouth as you take in the sights of the ship, as if he isn’t standing directly in front of you. “I suppose this will do.” Nodding to yourself you finally let your gaze settle in him, a smile that doesn’t quite meet your eyes adorns your face. “Hello, Mandalorian.” It’s almost posed as a question, you want confirmation that you’re in the right place despite the fact that he’s standing before you in full beskar armour.  

He isn’t sure how to respond. The client information section of the listing flashes through his mind as he stares. 

Imperial affiliation. 

Your outfit surely suggests that but the rest of you screams inexperienced. He hasn’t ever seen someone who looks so unprepared for a field job. And he finds himself experiencing a feeling he’s only ever felt a handful of times in his life. 

Surprised. 

But you can’t know that. 

He’s supposed to be the seasoned bounty hunter who can handle anything thrown his direction. At least that’s what you’re paying for. Convinced his voice will betray him, he only nods at you. 

“Good, I’m Dr. Thorne, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Stepping further up onto the ship you hold your hand out towards him. With robotic movements he gives you a quick and firm handshake before immediately withdrawing. Even through his gloves he can feel just how cold you are. 

With every passing second he’s regretting this decision more and more. 

“I appreciate your punctuality.” You rock slowly, back and forth on your heels as you size him up, making no attempts at being subtle. “And you’re taller than I expected. Not an issue, just something of note.” You force a laugh but he still doesn’t speak. Partly because he isn’t the chatty type but also because he just doesn’t know what to say. Your tone is too clinical, like he’s a patient and you’re his doctor. “And you haven’t interrupted me once, which is… polite, I suppose.” He can’t decide if you’re joking so he continues to nod. 

Everything about you is odd, it gives him a queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. This is why he doesn’t usually take escort jobs. They require too much talking, it’s been so long since he’s had someone aboard that wasn’t a bounty he can’t even discern if this is typical conversation. You’re too clinical, too detached from your words, if it weren’t for your constant twitching and unpredictable muscle spasms he’d have thought you were a droid. He has to remind himself that you’re just a person, and he’s met plenty of people, some over twice your size, and never once felt intimidated. 

With an indiscernible shiver he shakes off the feeling, after all there is no direct threat here, just discomfort, and he’s more than well equipped to handle a little discomfort. 

“Would you mind directing me to my chambers so that I might deposit my belongings before we proceed?” The naivety of your statement makes him scoff, and briefly his walls break down. You’re about to be in for a rude awakening as he tilts his head to the left, the airlock doors open on a small storage compartment. Clearly a space used to store weapons or fuel, that has been cleaned and haphazardly refurbished with a cot, a steel dresser, and a storage trunk. 

But you are completely unshaken. 

Despite your neatly kept robes and hair pulled back is a strict tie you show no signs of distress at the tiny living space. 

“Well this is easy enough.” You grunt a little, dragging your large bag forward, tossing it into the compartment before turning to face him once more, riffling around in your robe pockets and presenting him with a large satchel that jingles with the sound of credits as you hold it out politely towards him. 

“You don’t seem up for conversation so I suppose we should just get on with it then.” You click your tongue, softly, it doesn’t seem like you even realized that you did it. “Perhaps I should try speaking your language. My plans are as follows; I would like safe and comfortable transportation to my desired location. When we arrive I would like you to accompany me as I conduct my research. It is nothing of great importance, more of a personal project of mine, I’d like to retrieve an artifact for my personal collection. It isn’t considered particularly valuable by any means, it’s just something significant to the niche of research that I’ve devoted my life to. While I am willing to share more information on it I’d rather not and I’d be willing to bet that you don’t want to hear it anyway so I think it would be for the best to keep it that way. I am not anticipating a need for protection, the site was condemned ages ago, but I find that preparing for the worst case scenario is best. You will accompany me. I will examine the ruins, collect samples and data, and when I’m done, we will board the ship and you will bring me back here.” 

Your eyes dart down to the credits and then back up to his visor. 

“70,000 credits, as promised upon arrival. With another 70,000 to be transferred electronically automatically at the end of the two week period along with a bonus for your discretion.” The end of your sentence drifts off to a whisper as you wait for him to accept. 

You barely breathed during your ramblings and his brain is fighting to process everything at the same speed as your voice. 

A moment of eerie silence swallows the space around them, something of significance that he can’t quite place, nor can he discern if you feel it too. A sour taste in his mouth and the feeling of bile rising in his throat, a feeling of being watched, all eyes on him. Waiting for him to make the choice, the right choice. 

And as he thinks it over you react with enough tiny tells to finally let him know that you’re just as nervous. 

You’re in a constant state of motion, even when you appear to be still, as if there’s something under your skin keeping you going. 

But it was foolish of you to even think you could hide from him, he was trained to do this, to read a situation like this with deadly precision, despite how low stakes it might look to an outsider he can feel the weight of the situation, heavy on his chest as his eyes roam the oncoming storm that is you. 

The way your jaw ticks, the subtle flex of the muscles in your cheek as you fight the urge to grind your teeth. Your nails chewed down to the quick, and the skin around them red and angry from nervous scratching and picking. The color of your undereyes is just a little too bright, you’re covering up something with makeup, almost certainly dark under eyes. The scar that runs along the bottom of your jaw is barely visible when you’re facing forward but he can tell it’s old, it healed long ago but everytime you look in the mirror you’re reminded of whatever it was that gave it to you. Oddly enough, the culmination of all of this is enough to finally relax him a bit. It’s what finally makes you human in his eyes.

You put on a good show. 

At first glance he was entirely convinced that you were this mysterious, calculating Imperial doctor, but he can see through all of that with a closer look. You’re a survivor. You’re scared of whatever mission it is that you’re about to embark on, but you’re not the threat you try to discreetly present yourself as. 

“Trust is expensive out here.” The stare of wide eyed innocence you give him makes up his mind as he holds his own hand out and accepts the credits. You visibly exhale when he does. “I just hope that with this, I’ve earned yours.” 

The nod he gives you provides no promises, you’d be stupid to think that he trusts you, but at the very least you’re putting some trust in him. 

And that’s enough to make him speak his first words to you. The question that’s been on his mind since he saw your listing. 

“Where are we going?” He can immediately tell that how ragged his voice is from disuse is startling. He can’t seem to recall the last time he had to speak. 

Politely, and anticipating this question you reach into your robes once more before producing a small slip of paper with coordinates neatly written on them. 

“I don’t know the name of the planet, it’s old and I haven’t been able to find many records of an official title.” He’s quickly realizing that you speak like you rehearsed this all, it’s an odd, robotic, tone. It makes him want to ask more but he knows that he probably wouldn’t like any answer you gave him, the way you speak unsettles him. Instead of dwelling he tries to map out in his mind how long the trip will be from here to this mystery planet based on the coordinates. 

“Should be about two days of travel, is there anything else you need before we leave?” He has rations set aside for the two of you but with the possible end date of this job being ambiguous it’s troubling to think that all you have is one bag. “I have enough rations stored away for four weeks worth of travel, with four days total in round trip travel time I’d advise you to make sure you’re properly equipped.” You aren’t looking at him anymore, instead your eyes wander and begin to study the ship around you. 

“I have everything we’ll need.” He watches as your temperature rises, just a degree or two, wondering if it’s your nerves that are causing this reaction. “I’d like to leave as soon as possible.”

There’s no reason to draw this out any longer than necessary, with his pockets weighed down with his payment he makes a beeline for the bay door panel, with a deafening groan the steel doors slide shut. Ignoring the feeling of your eyes on him he pushes a series of buttons, ensuring a proper seal on the airlock. No going back now. 

“Shall I join you in the cockpit? Perhaps I could properly brief you on the mission and we could exchange pleasantries.” You give him a polite smile but he shakes his head. The last thing he wants right now is more conversation with you. 

“Get some sleep, it’s gonna be a long trip.” He tries to control his tone, attempting a cordial manner of speaking. 

He can’t get to the cockpit quickly enough. Careful to lock the hatch behind him he starts to set the course. It’s a fifty hour trip there, fifty hours until the unknown. Setting the ship for an auto pilot trip he leans back in his chair, taking deep breaths until the blinking light on the control panel breaks him out of his silent meditation. 

The ship's motion detectors. 

He’s never used the security system, he’d had it installed as a sort of baby monitor for the kid but he’d never needed it. He so rarely has anyone on the ship to monitor. 

He fiddles with the controls briefly until the monitor to his left hums to life with the grainy image of you, standing alone right where he left you. 

As you look around the room, taking your time to note everything around you he finds himself fascinated by the sight of you. Being able to watch you from the outside makes you much more interesting. 

When you finally move it isn’t too rushed to your chambers.

Instead you move slowly, drinking in the space. You lift your hand and your robe flows like water around you, and you touch the closest wall. Pacing, circling the room you brush your hand up against everything, not searching or scheming, just feeling. Mapping out the space. You pause in front of one of the many supply lockers crammed in against the interior wiring of the ship, tilting your head as if you’re listening for something. A small, private smile tugging at the corners of your mouth before you move on. 

His gloved hands flip through the switches, cycling through the different feeds until you’re back on the screen, stepping lightly into a cargo hold. 

You’re so careful. You don’t pry or rummage through his things, instead you just do a lap around the room, fingertips dragging along the seams of the walls that conceal panels, the cold steel of storage crates. 

You linger over things like the emergency oxygen masks and the first aid kits, like you’re memorizing their placements. Everything in the room feels your featherlight touch as you slowly trace every edge and curve. He feels like he watches you move from room to room for hours until you finally make your way into your quarters. Instinctively he changes the feed again only to be met with static. A frown forming on his face until he realizes why. 

When he’d purchased the ship he had to calibrate the system to his liking, and he’d marked any rooms used as sleeping quarters as private. He didn’t normally have guests on the ship but he wasn’t a creep. His thumb hovers over the manual toggle anyway, and a thought crosses his mind. 

He shouldn’t be watching you, you clearly have no ill intentions. It would be wrong to keep watching. 

But you’re wearing all those layered robes. 

A concealed weapon isn’t just a possibility, it’s smart. And with your intelligence it should be expected. 

And of course he hadn’t searched you upon boarding, you’re a paying customer, it would have been rude and might have lost him the job. 

He flexes his hand. 

Something about you was off, even the listing had been strange. The wise decision here would be to make sure that everything appears typical. His mind argues back and forth with itself as he tries to justify this, eventually his curiosity gets the best of him. 

Just until you’re done changing, he tells himself. Just to be sure. 

The feed cuts to an unblurred view of your room. 

For a moment you just dig through your bag, and his jaw tightens. You pull out a few notebooks and pens, tossing them onto the cot. Your movements are so much more fluid now, without rush, more natural looking than you’d been in front of him. 

Standing with your back to the camera your fingers find the ties at your waist, loosening them, the fabric falls off your shoulders. Slowly and methodically you slip off each layer, catching them before they hit the floor, and folding them neatly. It’s a long and arduous process as you go layer by layer until you’ve got a stack on your dresser and you clasp your hands together, finished. 

Now revealed is a thin underlayer, a close fitted tunic and pants that end just above your knees. Clothes meant for sleeping, nothing else. Tight enough to make it obvious that you’re concealing nothing. 

He tells himself again that this is all just a precaution  

His throat feels terribly dry. 

He should turn it off. But he can’t.

Reaching up, you undo your hair, arching yourself back in a stretch that makes his entire justification for watching you suddenly feel twisted and dirty. 

There are no weapons. Nothing hidden. 

Nothing but you. 

And then, you froze in place.  

Halfway through a groan of relief as you stretch, you turn towards the wall. 

Head tilting up until your gaze is facing the camera. 

Not just towards it, right at it.

Your eyes are calm, not accusatory, not shocked. 

That somehow makes him feel worse. A bead of sweat sliding down his forehead and over the bridge of his nose. 

And you tilt your head to the side, just a smidge. Like you’re staring right at him. Like you’re the one observing him. 

He cuts the feed. 

Turning the monitor off entirely as the cockpit goes silent and he’s staring at his own reflection in the now blank screen. Helmeted, emotionless, guiltless. 

He certainly doesn’t feel that way, as shame is starting to set in like cement in his chest. 

Leaning back in his chair he exhales slowly. 

He certainly isn’t going to sleep soundly tonight. 

⊹₊⟡⋆ 

The familiar scent of the motel room fills your head as you rush back in, slamming the door shut behind you with a panicked breath, scrambling for the lock before relaxing. 

It’s a shitty place to stay, with even shittier neighbors. Your research is too important to be kept here, you know that, but you don’t have any other choice. This was and continues to be the cheapest option. Just as you’re setting your bag down your tablet across the room chimes. For the last three months you’ve felt your heart race at the sound of that notification dozens of times, only to immediately be disappointed. Tonight is no different. Your breath quickens immediately, almost to the point of hyperventilation as you dart across the room, kneeling in front of the bed as you type your password into the device. 

[ YOU HAVE : 1 NEW APPLICATION - WOULD YOU LIKE TO REVIEW IT? ]

Out of habit you’re tapping the space where the “yes” icon is going to appear before it’s even there. The screen changes to the applicants guild code, but that’s not the information you’re after, your eyes skip over it the redacted information portion, you’ve already put a system in place that reveals it and you desperately search for the one word you’ve been waiting for. 

And for the first time since you put out this damn listing, you find it. 

Mandalorian 

It feels like your heart stops, you know you shouldn’t get your hopes up, but this could be the one. 

Male, 40 years of age, (estimate) combat capable, well experienced, specialties in location and extraction of bounties, Mandalorian, solo operation. 

He fits all the parameters, even if they’re vague. It isn’t a guarantee that he’s the one you’ve been waiting for but you don’t even think about it as you type in your response, signing it with the name you were given during your time serving the Empire. 

Dr. Thorne 

You hurriedly pack everything you can into your bag before laying down, heart racing, the moment you get a response you’ll be checking out of this hell hole. If the guild member arrives and isn’t the Mandalorian in full silver with a mudhorn signet on his pauldron you’ll just turn around and try again. 

… 

In the morning you have an estimated arrival time and it’s all finally coming together. You tell yourself over and over again to not get ahead of yourself. It’s more than likely that you’ll be checking back into hotel hell tonight. 

There’s nothing left to do at this point but wait. So that’s exactly what you do, you sit by the small window and wait for the sun to set, your eyes locked onto the clock on your tablet. Until finally, a little after ten o’clock there’s another notification chime and you know he’ll be landing soon.

You dress yourself in the only nice clothes you have left, your robes, and travel to what you know to be an abandoned space port. Pulling your cloak more tightly around yourself as the cold settles into your bones. You aren’t standing in the dark for long, soon enough there's a rush of hot air as a ship materializes out of the darkness, landing directly in front of you. You’re absolutely wired at this point. It feels like there’s an electric current running under your skin as a loud hiss fills the quiet air around you and a large ramp lowers itself to the ground and you can see the soft golden light within. 

You’re too fired up to wait for it to hit the ground, careful not to lose your balance you hoist yourself up. Taking in the sights of the ship, forcing a smile, preparing yourself for the wave of defeat that will wash over you when you see him. 

And then you do. 

And he sees you. 

And the weight of the world is lifted off your shoulders. 

Your brain stops working but thankfully your mouth doesn’t, you’re on auto-pilot, introducing yourself, shaking his hand, greeting him. 

Him. 

Standing before you just as you’d dreamed. In a full suit of silver armour, the signature Mandalorian helmet adorns his head. He’s taller than you thought he’d be, more menacing. You aren’t scared of him though, you couldn’t be. Your eyes drift to his shoulder, the mughorn symbol visible from where you’re standing. 

You finally manage to shake off the sense of awe and ask him where your chambers are and he scoffs, how odd. He nods to an open room to your left and you drag the bag carrying your entire life over, tossing it in. It’s a palace compared to the types of places you’ve been living in. It’s clean. It’s safe.

He doesn’t seem to want to talk to you yet, that’s fine, he needs to warm up to you. You just need to get him to accept the payment and then there’s no going back. You grab the credits, the precious compensation that’s going to be your salvation and hold it out towards him. When he doesn’t react, panic starts to rise like bile in your throat. 

He’s just staring at you. 

Suddenly you’re terrified. 

Terrified that he’s changed his mind.

Terrified that he’ll want to negotiate for more money, something that you can’t afford. 

Terrified that you’ve said something that’s convinced him that this isn’t going to work. 

And most of all, you're terrified that he sees right through you. 

That he can see this facade you’re putting on solely for his benefit, this image of a weak and helpless girl, desperately in need of help. You’ve worked too hard to look broken, like a damsel in distress, you’ll be damned if this crumbles now. 

“Trust is expensive out here.” The words tumble out of you before you can stop them. Stupid! He just needs a little time, if you keep pushing him you risk losing everything before you’ve even begun. 

Your heart flutters as he closes his hand around the bag. 

Of course he accepted. He’s going to protect you now, you knew he was the one. 

“I just hope that with this, I’ve earned yours.” You give him a much more relaxed smile. Of course he doesn’t trust you. That’s why he’s perfect. None of this would work if he trusted you immediately. It needs to be slow, gradual, and earned. It needs to be real. And with what likely awaits you at the station you know you will need that trust soon. 

You know you shouldn’t push it, you should go to bed now and leave him to his work but you want him to trust you now, you want him to be everything you know he can be. 

But he doesn’t want that.

He isn’t ready. 

He tells you to get some sleep but you aren’t tired, how can you be expected to sleep at a time like this? You don’t argue though, and you don’t follow him when he retires to the cockpit. You know you likely won’t see him until you land so you familiarize yourself with the ship. 

Taking deep breaths to ground yourself. 

You can’t remember the last time you felt at ease like you do now. 

You’ve spent the last decade in and out of highly hazardous working conditions, and then for a few years after that, you were in and out of the worst hotels in Coruscant. Always running from the thing that just won’t leave you be. 

It’s a breath of fresh air to enter your chambers and know that you can sleep soundly tonight. 

Careful not to wrinkle your only presentable clothing, you fold it all neatly, setting it aside for the days to follow. You’re ready to get into bed when the hair on the back of your neck stands up mid stretch. The all too familiar feeling of being watched. 

That can’t be right, not here, not now. 

Nothing should have been able to follow you here, turning and scanning the walls of your room you don’t see any obvious signs of danger. 

A patch of discolored paint in the corner catches your eye. It vaguely resembles a shadow and your blood runs cold, ever so slowly you tilt your head, trying to see if it’s a trick of the light. Slowly, the feeling of being surveilled eases. It’s just paint, dark patches of paint. 

It’s normal to be nervous. That’s what you tell yourself. 

Good things don’t happen to you.

They never have. 

You deserve to enjoy this fleeting sense of peace, for however long it lasts. 

After messing around with the buttons near the door you manage to turn the lights off. Leaving you in complete and total darkness as you slide under the wool blanket that’s been left on your cot. 

You have no control over the smile that creeps across your face as you deeply inhale the air on the ship, allowing yourself to savor it. 

Oil, iron, gunpowder, sweat. 

With the lights off and your vision completely obscured, your other senses are enhanced. You don’t just smell his sweat, you taste it. The distinct and metallic tang. Him. 

A combination of flesh, and leather, and something deeper, something so uniquely him. So familiar. 

Something that lit up that sharp and all consuming fire inside you. It started as a quiet hunger but has been growing for days, for weeks, for years. 

You feel your pulse quicken and fight to keep your breathing steady. How are you supposed to maintain your composure when you aren’t afraid? When was the last time you didn’t feel a constant underlying sense of dread? Unable to contain yourself any longer, you whisper into the silence of your cabin. The name that you’ve been repeating in your head for ages. 

“Din Djarin.” 

The name that has lived only in your mind reverberates around the small space, as if the galaxy itself was whispering it to you. You’d never spoken it aloud before now. You’d been saving it for a special occasion, it had taken time to learn it, patience, a deep dive into records, and rumors. It had taken quite some time but it hadn’t been hard. Not for someone who knew where to look, not for someone who was meant to know it, not for you. 

You’ve spent nearly a year on his trail, your studies, your life's work, they'd all lead to this moment. To him. 

You don’t have to be afraid anymore. 

He’s real, he’s here. You can feel his presence here, taste him, smell him, feel him. All of him, as he fills the space, you bury your face in the blanket and deeply inhale. The stress and the panic that have been building in your chest for Maker knows how long, starts to melt away bit by tortuous bit. 

You found him. 

And he’s going to save you.

a/n : I'm super super rusty so if this is bad let's blame it on that and hope it gets better lol, love y'all and thank you for reading if you made it this far <3

follow @lincolndjarinnotifs for updates!!

[axolotl-in-highheels]

,, Demon made man"

CoD x f! "Violent" reader

Featured characters:

König

Krueger

Horangi

141 as a collective

Note: this is very self indulgent, I only really made this because I am sick and tired of all those x reader hc where you are being walked all over by these men.

So to counteract this i bring you hc for a reader that is just a violent, selfish bastard who has no problem hurting her team-mates if it means finishing a mission.

TW: violence, sadism, bullet wounds, meanies :(, just be prepared for some nasty shit

If you like this kinda stuff let me know, i'd love to go in-deph in a possible part 2.

◇◇◇◇◇

König

At first, he didn't spare you a second glance, hell not even a first one. Just another part of an everchanging team no more no less

However, he noticed quickly that you had a problem with authority, his to be precise.

You blew him off at every given chance. Butting into his commands, going off on your own to solve the problem at hand and then take all the glory

It also didn't help that you behaved similar like his old bullies. He though about just shooting you if you weren't so god damn slippery

One of his most memorable memories were is a small russian town where you kidnapped a hostage you needed information out of

The interrogation was left to you, he was planning on you being the good cop and him the bad one

However, that quickly de-railed when you started to peel the victims skin off. Eating up every cry of pain with a sick grin

Since then, every time you are paired with him his pulse skyrockets

Sebastian Krueger

Similar to his Austrian collegue, he didn't notice you at first, maybe he'd scoff at having to drag a girl around as another weight on his boot but nothing more

But his tune changed abruptly when you two were on a solo-mission

It began on the helio to the drop-off zone. He had been cleaning one of his knives when you made fun of his technique.

Later when you entered the town, the order was to retrieve a suitcase filled to the brim with important info on the ultranationalists

It was never officially stated but you both knew that whoever secured the case would get all the glory, so you two were butting heads all the way there.

It all came to a head when you were just one room removed from the case. He had shoved you back, intending to take it himself, when all of the sudden...

You shot him, right in the back of his knee downing him. Sauntering over in the most casual way, like one would take a stroll through the neighborhood.

Oh he saw red but couldn't do much of the account of a bullet wound in his leg.

After the mission was over he was waiting to smother you in your sleep, unlucky for him you got the praise of the higher-ups and a month vacation for yourself.

The next time you saw eachother was in passing but by then he couldn't have done anything no matter how much he wanted to.

Horangi

For some more positive vibes, you got along quite good actually.

You two hit it off, albeit a bit klunky since your voices were drowned out by the loud-ass helio

Your missions together were embossed by good teamwork and a quick completion

Even then, Horangi noticed you were off, after peticularly bloody missions you were unusually chipper and in high spirits like a child who got gifted a candybar

But one assignment really cemented his suspicions.

It was in a chinese mafia den. The entire mission was already going to shit from the get go, you, Horangi and one other soldier were hiding behind a crate, surrounded by lower goons

When all of the sudden you grabbed the soldier and brutally used him as a meat-shield to advance to the offenders.

Ever since then he decided to never stand within arms reach of you. Ever.

141 Extra

You only went out with the taskforce once before their captain refused to work with you anymore.

At first the boys were quite welcoming, bit hesitant, but welcoming nontheless.

Seargent Soap and Gaz were very chatty with you, ingaging in endearing small talk.

L.T. Ghost was pretty stand-offish but that was to be expected by his reputation.

It all went south quickly after you were rounding up cartel members, shooting them down after you were given the order to leave no one alive

At the end, you encountered the son on the leader, a teenage boy maybe 15 or 16.

The 141 was debating what to do with him since they couln't eliminate a child. You however saw the foreboding danger.

The assassination of his family would undoubtedly lead to revenge, something that will be dangerous.

So, without hesitating, you killed him. A bullet point-blank to the skull.

The aftermath was ugly, first stunned silence then outrage. Soap was on you first, going on and on about ethics, Gaz quickly joining.

After much verbal berating and a lack of guilt from you cemented their disdain.

Since then, they avoid you like the plague.

_________________________________________

So, I hope you enjoyed that. Like I said it's kinda violent but I feel like that is what this fandom needs. If you are curious the reader is based off an OC if you want to know more about her or want her to be the focus of a part 2 let me know.

Let me know your opinions, good or bad in general. Construcive critisism is also very welcome.

Anyways, thank you for reading

[silvergyus]

straight a students- h.kk

pairing: university students! hueningkai x reader

summary: you and kai are the top students in competition for a coveted spot on a study abroad. what happens when acceptance emails go out?

warnings: this fic is all-ages!/ academic rivals trope/ reader cries in front of kai

word count: 1,100+

author's note: this is drawn from my own life experiences (guess which ones lol). hyuka and reader's major is kept intentionally vague and if the set up isn't actually how study abroad programs work, just ignore it. requested by @lunesdesire as part of my 500 followers celebration

Childhood dreams of studying in castles with vast libraries and cool, foggy mornings were so close you could almost taste them. You’d worked hard the last three years to perfect your application. You wanted this, no, you needed this. And you weren’t going to let big, stupid, perfect HueningKai get the spot over you.

The trip pulled from multiple universities so there was only one, highly coveted spot allowed from yours. Kai was your unofficial opponent in the competition for it. The two of you had been in nearly every class together all three years of undergrad, and were locked in an unofficial competition for top student. Who could write the best reports, who could earn the highest test scores. It was neck-and-neck as to which of you would get picked to study abroad. No matter how hard you worked, he seemed to work just as hard.

----

You settled into your seat, nerves twisting your stomach into knots.

Acceptance emails went out at 11a.m.

Class ran from 10 to 12.

You weren’t going to learn a thing.

----

Class dismissed with the professor smiling warmly at you and then at Kai. What could that mean? Did she know already which one of you was triumphant, which one of you would pack your bags for a semester away? Was yours a pity smile and his a smile of congratulations? Or was it the other way around?

You shook your head. No time to think like that. You smiled politely back before rushing out of the classroom, down the hall and into the courtyard.

You opened your phone. There it was. Arrived in your inbox at precisely 11:03a.m.

You didn’t dare take a breath. Chest tight as you hurriedly opened the message, eyes racing over the formal words.

“...many strong candidates…”

“...we regret to inform you…”

You felt the world stop, the breath you’d held so tightly escaping in a ragged huff. What were you going to do now?

----

A heavy feeling of dejection had settled over your body in the hours since the rejection email shattered your dreams. You hoped that the quiet and repetition of shelving books would help to calm your mind. You loved your campus job: putting books back in their assigned spots in the library. The stacks were your safe space, just you and the books.

And HueningKai.

He was hunched over an array of textbooks, pouring over their contents. He hadn’t noticed you yet, half hidden in the rows of books, legs obscured by your rolling cart.

Anger and disappointment flashed in your chest. A lump formed immediately in your throat. The news was still fresh, the wound still raw. And there, in your safe haven, sat the man that had taken it all away from you.

You hurried to get away before he saw you. The thought of having to face him when your chest felt this tight and your eyes this watery was too much to bear. You pushed the wobbly cart around the corner, towards the safety of the next aisle. In your rush, a large textbook tumbled from your cart, crashing to the floor and piercing the near silence.

Kai looked up towards the sound, recognition flashing across his face when he spotted you. His voice was slow, unsure, and awkward as he whispered loudly across the space. “H- hey.”

You didn’t look up, eyes trained on retrieving the fallen book. You didn’t trust yourself to reply.

“So uh, emails went out.”

Tears threatened to fall as he spoke. It wasn’t fair, the universe playing a sick joke on you like this. First it took away everything you worked hard for, then it put Kai here to rub it in your face?

“That was um, maybe not what-” You couldn’t let him finish before tears began to stream silently down your face. Shame burned as hot as the tears down your cheeks. You’d done everything you could and yet you weren’t as good as him.

Kai stuttered, confused, before standing up in a rush. The chair scraped across the tiled floor, loud in the quiet room. He seemed unsure of what to do as you wiped your eyes, embarrassed at the falling tears. You tried to turn away, to run from this embarrassment, but suddenly his arms were around you in a tight hug.

He was warm, was what you noticed first, soft cotton t-shirt pressed against your cheek, soft flannel sleeves holding you close. He was big, his broad chest the perfect height for you to hide away in. His voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke, “hey, it’s alright.”

His hug was so incredibly comfortable, and if it was anyone else you’d ask to stay there forever, but it didn’t feel right, being comforted by the guy you lost to. You struggled out of his hold to look him in the eyes. Soft, brown eyes stared back, slightly confused.

“It’s fine Kai. I don’t need your pity.”

He cocked his head at your words. “What do you mean? You got in.”

Your head spun, gears turning as you tried to make sense of what he just said. “What? N-no.” It broke your heart to speak the next words, “I didn’t.”

“You didn’t get in either?” He asked.

You were sure you looked as confused as you felt, struggling to piece together what really occurred. “No, I- no. I thought you did.”

A beat of silence hung in the air between you before a broken laugh erupted from your chest. “Then who got in?”

He laughed, something loud and deep and silly. “I don’t know! I thought it was you.”

The air was light between you now, years of silent rivalry ended by one email. You were no longer two perfect students competing for the top spot. Now you were just two students in the same program.

He smiled at you warmly before reaching up. “You’ve got a, uh.” His thumb gently brushed against your cheek, wiping off the tear that still stained it. 

“Hey, um, do you want to study with me and maybe figure out who got in over us? When you're done with your shift I mean.”

You smiled. “These are actually the last books I have to put away before my shift ends.”

“Cool, cool.” You noticed a twinge of pink blooming across his cheeks as he kneaded his lips together. “Cool.”

The lump in your chest subsided a bit. Maybe you weren’t going on the trip, achieving the dreams you’d put in your journal since childhood. But maybe through this, you could gain a friend.

taglist: @lunesdesire, @dearlyjun, @moamidzyism, @miupow

send a message to be added or removed from my taglist!

[armystrong980]

Taking The Bullet

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Characters: Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, & Wanda Maximoff

Word Count: 6,530

A/N: Not too sure why but I've had so much motivation to write. Here's another Bucky Barnes story. Again, I would love to know everyone's feedback on how you liked it and what I could change! 

_______________________________________________

In the Avengers compound, the briefing room was filled with a mix of excitement and anxiety. Steve Rogers stood at the front of the room, briefing Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff, Sam Wilson, Y/N, and Bucky Barnes on their latest mission.

“Alright, team, listen up. Our objective is to infiltrate a HYDRA base in Sokovia and retrieve critical files. These files will grant us access to HYDRA’s database, which contains information about a nuclear weapon they’ve got stashed away in Siberia.”

Steve’s gaze briefly met Bucky's, noting the subtle shift in his friend’s demeanor. Bucky’s past with Siberia was filled with dark memories, and Steve could see the unease in his eyes. Steve continued with the briefing.

“Natasha, you’re with me. Wanda, you’ll team up with Sam. Y/N, you’re with Bucky. We’re splitting into teams to cover more ground. Let’s make this quick and clean.”

With their roles assigned, the team prepared for departure. They boarded the quinjet, each of them gearing up and checking their equipment. In the back of the jet, Natasha, Wanda, and Y/N settled in, while Steve, Bucky and Sam took the front seats.

As the quinjet soared through the sky, Natasha turned to Y/N with a playful smirk. “So, Y/N, how’s everything going with Bucky? Any special plans for after the mission?”

Wanda, sitting beside Natasha, gave Y/N a knowing look. “Yeah, you two have been getting pretty close. What’s the deal?”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed slightly. “We’ve been talking about checking out a new café that’s opening this weekend. I was thinking of asking him if he’d like to join me.”

From the front of the jet, Sam turned around with a grin. “Seems like Y/N’s got something planned for you.”

Bucky, trying to suppress a smile, leaned in toward Sam. “I heard that. It’s not like I’m eavesdropping, but super soldier hearing, you know?”

Sam chuckled. “Yeah, yeah. Super soldier hearing strikes again.”

Bucky laughed softly. “Can’t help it. I catch everything.”

As the conversation continued, Y/N and the others chatted about their weekend plans and the mission ahead. Despite the lively exchange, Bucky’s focus remained on Y/N, his mind buzzing with a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation about their upcoming plans.

The quinjet finally landed in Sokovia, and the team quickly got into position. Y/N and Bucky entered the HYDRA base, moving stealthily through the dimly lit corridors. They were engaged in quiet conversation when suddenly, alarms blared, and HYDRA agents poured into the building.

The base erupted into chaos. Y/N and Bucky fought side by side, their movements synchronized and precise. Amidst the battle, Y/N glanced over and saw a HYDRA soldier aiming directly at Bucky. Without thinking, she threw herself in front of Bucky, taking the bullet meant for him.

The impact was jarring, and pain shot through Y/N’s side. Bucky, momentarily stunned, quickly eliminated the soldier who had fired. His eyes were filled with a mix of horror and determination as he knelt beside Y/N.

“Y/N, stay with me!” Bucky shouted into the comms. “Steve, Natasha—Y/N’s been hit. She’s losing a lot of blood. I need immediate extraction!”

Bucky carried Y/N back to the quinjet, his concern evident as he fought to keep her stable. Natasha, Steve, Wanda, and Sam were already on board, their faces reflecting worry. Natasha quickly assessed the situation and grabbed some gauze from her med kit. She applied it firmly to the gunshot wound, pressing down to stem the bleeding.

Bucky’s hands were steady as he carefully turned Y/N onto her side, his expression tense but hopeful. He breathed a sigh of relief when he spotted the exit wound, indicating that the bullet had passed through.

"Hang in there, Doll," he said, his voice filled with both concern and determination. "You’re going to be okay." The quinjet flew back to the Avengers headquarters, racing against time.

When they landed, Y/N was rushed to the med bay. Bucky followed closely, his anxiety palpable. The doctors took Y/N away, leaving Bucky and the rest of the team in the waiting area. The hours seemed to stretch endlessly.

Finally, a doctor emerged, looking exhausted but relieved. “Everything went well. Y/N is in recovery asleep. You can go see her now if you'd like.”

Without hesitation, Bucky, with Steve by his side, hurried to Y/N’s room. As they entered, Y/N was unconscious, her breathing steady but shallow. Bucky and Steve began discussing the mission.

“I don’t understand why she would take the bullet for me,” Bucky said, his voice strained. “I was so scared. It’s not like she needed to…”

Steve placed a comforting hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “It’s clear she cares for you. She probably acted on instinct, wanting to protect you from further pain.”

As Y/N drifted in and out of consciousness, she heard Bucky’s words. “I love her. I can’t live without her.”

The words felt like a distant echo. Y/N, still in a semi-conscious state, slipped back into unconsciousness, unsure if what she heard was real or just a dream.

When Y/N finally awoke, the room was softly lit, and Bucky was by her side. His expression was a mix of relief and frustration, his concern evident.

“Hey,” Y/N whispered, her voice weak. “Bucky…”

Bucky’s face softened, though there was a hint of anger in his eyes. “Hey." He paused. Tears welling up in his eyes. "I should've been more alert. I should've seen it coming." Y/N shook her head. "Dont you dare blame yourself for this. This was not your fault." He hated the way he felt. Y/N was the love of his life. "That shot wasn’t meant for you. It was meant for me.” He looks into Y/N's eyes and holds her hand in his. "I could've lost you today." A tear races out of his left eye.

Y/N looked at him with her heart heavy. “I’m sorry, Bucky. I couldn’t let you get hurt. I saw the way you looked when Steve mentioned Siberia in the meeting—the pain and memories. I didn’t want you to suffer more. I love you, and that’s why I took the bullet. I can’t bear the thought of losing you. I can’t face the world without you by my side.” Tears streamed her face. 

Bucky’s anger melted into tenderness as he absorbed her words. “I love you too, Y/N. More than you know. I was terrified I’d lost you, Doll.”

He leaned in, his lips meeting hers in a kiss that was tender and full of unspoken emotions. When they finally pulled away, both were breathless, their hearts aligned.

In that quiet moment of recovery, amidst the aftermath of their mission, Y/N and Bucky found a renewed strength in each other. Their bond was stronger than ever, and they knew that together, they could face whatever came next.

[izxz-is-deranged]

Baptism by Fire | Matt Murdock x BAU!Reader

Summary: You love your position at the BAU, but your life is uprooted when Hotch sends you on a temporary assignment to the FBI field office in New York. Apparently, someone had the bright idea to make a deal with a crime boss named Wilson Fisk, and now it's your job to build a profile to determine if the information he gives can be trusted. As you realize quickly things aren't as they seem, you must find a way to protect yourself- If protecting yourself has something to do with a masked vigilante... That's no fault of yours.

A/N: Starts about ep3 of S3 of Daredevil! Reader uses a fake name, and can be seen as an original character if desired. Future storylines may involve Reader's past coming back to haunt her (Supernatural) and the trials and tribulations of her day job (Criminal Minds)

< ao3 link > <Masterlist>

6: A Bloody Way Out

The prison hallway is twinged with a sickly yellow light. It’s divided into two paths, and just as Matt predicted, three inmates stalked forward from the shadows. One in one hall, and two in the other. Your heartbeat thrums and your fingers feel electric with dread and the anticipation of the fight coming a mile away. You pull your firearm from your holster, a tactically trained aim flicking between the inmates.

“FBI. Return to your cells before-”

The first one rushes forward, not even giving you time to finish your sentence. Matt catches his head before he reaches you, and slams it into the corner of the wall. The other two inmates barrel into action before you can get a clear shot of either. Matt’s reactions take milliseconds before he’s in a fight with both of them.

The downed inmate stands surprisingly quick. With Matt occupied with the others, you grapple onto this inmate’s shirt, using your leverage to throw him into the wall, barely keeping him from landing a blow on Matt. You hold your gun to his back and he looks over his shoulder, baring his rotten teeth at you. You punch at his face with the handle of the firearm. It connects with his nose in a spray of blood and snot. His head lolls from the impact. 

Matt blows behind you as one of the inmates pushes him back into the nurse's room. Your attention falters from the man under you for a second too long and he yanks you off him with a bony hand, grabbing your wrists and twisting the gun from your grip. A cry of surprise leaves you but it quickly turns to obscenities. The metal of the gun clatters across the floor, and you and the inmate dive for it. 

He’s slightly closer, and panic surges in your chest as he rips it from the ground. Out of nowhere, Matt appears, delivering an incapacitating kick to the man’s legs. He drops and the trigger is pulled. A gunshot booms. The bullet lodges itself somewhere in the ceiling. You barely have time to duck your head before Matt has the man unconscious on the floor, standing above him, breathing ragged.

Your adrenaline doesn’t dwindle. Matt spits blood, wiping his face with his hand. He staggers and catches himself on the wall.

“Jesus!” You jump to him, hands finding support as you help him steady. He feels surprisingly solid under your touch. Your voice is breathy. “Fisk was right about your reflexes. Where the hell does a blind man learn to fight like that ?” 

“No time… Later,” Matt huffs, beginning to stumble forward. You’re gonna hold him to it.

After retrieving your gun from the limp grip of the unconscious man and holstering it, both of you continue down the hall, but an inmate in a spare cell lunges against the bars. You’re in his unfortunate path and his hands reach your scalp, yanking at the hair there. You yelp, jerking in his tight grip.

“Come here baby! Let me out-”

Matt whips around, dislodging the mans arm from you and wrenching downwards with a gruesome amount of force. It’s caught between the metal bars, causing a sickening crack of breaking bone to ring out. The man screams, retracting back into his cell in pain and fear. 

“You alright?” Matt asks softly, contrasting to the brutal action he just took. He places himself on the opposite side of you, like men are supposed to when walking on sidewalks. But instead of protecting you from cars, it was handsy men in cells.

You bring a tentative hand up, rubbing the sore spot near your scalp. “Yeah… Yeah. Thank you.” It was an odd feeling to be defended and avenged so swiftly, especially for meeting Matt properly only 20 minutes ago. A dark part of you revels in it.

You both push through a doorway, ending up in one of the cell blocks. 2 guards come around the corner. Matt begins to kneel, hands up.

You stay standing, but hold your hands up as well. “FBI! I have an injured civilian here! We were attacked-”

As they approach, they continuously yell: “Get on the ground!” You do not listen, and stay standing, repeating your credentials. It takes you longer than it should’ve to realize that they didn’t care, and only when you see one of them crackle a radio to life as they march, do you recognize the danger.

“Got ‘em. We’ll take care of them here.”

With their batons out, they descend on you and Matt; One for each of you. The first blow connects with your shoulder, then your bicep as you try to defend yourself. You can feel the pain blossom underneath each hit, predicting a wicked injury that’ll last a few weeks. Matt gives his attacker a run for his money and yours notices, shoving you down the hall so he can focus on Matt as well.

You recover instantly but keep your distance. Matt can barely keep up with the baton works, and you pull your gun. Despite the riot gear, you aim for the exposed soft spot of tissue in one of their shoulders. With precision, the shot clears through in a spray of red. He screams in pain, and Matt uses the distraction to pry his baton away, and beat in the head of the other guard.

Once they’re both on the ground, Matt raises up. Alarms start. Red light flashes the hallway as an announcement booms, repeating over the intercom.

“ Code 33. Code 33. Lockdown now in effect .”

He wobbles, and you find yourself under his arm to support his weight. You think he’ll protest, but instead he leans into you, legs weak.

“ I got you. You’re alright ,” you whisper a gentle assurance almost as second nature.

Matt nods almost imperceptibly. Together, you both continue on. Inmates in the cells beside you demand keys, shouts becoming louder as they light things on fire and toss them into the hall. The flashing of the lights distorts your vision, and keeps you from noticing the two men who are hiding the shadows of an alcove.

Before you can process it, they have their hands around you and Matt, prying him off you and dragging you both into the dark. Your gun, which you’d tried to keep hold of, tumbles down to the floor, leaving it in the hall. You curse and spit but can’t get free, struggling becoming more desperate with each passing second.

“Let go! Get your hands off me!”

“ Don’t hurt her! Don’t you hurt her -”

Matt’s yelling as he’s being pulled into a room with you close behind. A hand clasps over your mouth to quiet you and you bite . The owner shouts in another language you don’t catch.

Matt, who’s pinned against the wall by a man almost twice his size, yells again. “Fisk betrays everyone! He will turn on you- Fisk will turn on you, too!” Matt is leaving a smear of blood on the wall as he struggles.

His captor holds a small blade to his throat and fear floods through you. You lunge forward in the iron grip of the man restraining you. “ Don’t do it! ” You near scream. You kick against him to no avail. You’re powerless. 

“Somebody shut her up!” A third man, obviously in charge, demands. He’s bald with sunken eyes and he steps forward into the light like a supervillain reveal. Your man shifts to forcibly hold your jaw in place, having learned from the wicked bite earlier. 

The leader speaks up again. “Who are you? Why does Fisk want you dead?”

He then turns to say something to the man holding you, what at first you think is gibberish, then registers as Albanian.

“Hey… Wait- What is that? Albanian?” Matt sputters out, voice strained. “Are you Vic?”

‘Vic’ responds. “You’re an idiot coming here. Fisk still controls half the guards and prisoners. The Fed especially should’ve known better.” He cocks his head at you.

All you can muster is an animalistic growl.

“Yeah- But Fisk doesn’t control you. Not- Not the Albanians.” Matt’s breathing is uneven and every word seems forced. “Not since he ratted your people out to the FBI.”

Vic steps to Matt, and calmly places a hand on the man with a blade’s shoulder. He drops Matt unceremoniously. He collapses downwards, collecting himself as he takes shuddering, deep breaths. You worry about the drug in his system as you can tell he’s losing steam. How much longer is he gonna last?

“What’s it to you?” Vic asks.

“Fisk hates me as much as he hates you people. Her included,” Matt gestures at you. “I helped get him locked up. And I’m gonna do it again.”

While you were still on edge, you had relaxed slightly. Matt seemed to be talking you both out of this, but that didn’t quell the fire in your gut that told you to break the nose of the man holding you.

Vic shakes his head, voice resolute. “Nah. I think you’re gonna die in here.”

“Why did Fisk flip on your people?” Matt asks, still on the floor.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters enough that you’re desperate to kill him. You missed him in here and then you tried again on the outside.” It’s at this moment you remember he argues professionally. 

“That is a very serious allegation- And wrong, ” Vic emphasizes. “We never tried to hit him… in here. She knows.”

When Vic points at you, the man holding you takes the queue to let go and shove you to the floor. You gasp then groan, knees colliding solidly with the tile. You take a couple deep inhales of air. Then, you look up, gaze icy. “A man… A man named Jasper Evans shanked Fisk. I was here to question him. He’s in solitary.”

Matt tilts his head at you, eyebrows furrowed. It’s news to him. Blood is caked on one half of his face and you know yours mirrors it. You can feel the warmth of the liquid, and the tackiness as it drys.

“Also wrong. Not about the name- But about where he is and why,” Vic comments, looking between you both.

Matt begins to stand unsteadily. He reaches a hand over to you, and he pulls you up like he’s defusing a bomb. He might as well be, trying to make sure the three Albanian mobsters don’t see a single action as a threat.

“Listen- If I succeed, Fisk ends up right back here with you and your men. After that, you can do with him whatever you please,” Matt bargains.

Vic looks as if he’s checking his other men’s opinions before he talks again. “Fisk bribed the lifer to stab him.”

“I was right,” You breath out, vindication pooling in your gut. 

“Yeah well, a little late, sweetie. You and your people were still convinced in the first place,” Vic sneers.

“I had nothing to do with that. I just got here yesterday,” you words are casual and delivered with a tiredness that could rival sisyphus.

Vic’s eyes train on you, a darkness behind them. “You’re lucky then. If you’d been involved with the motorcade, I wouldn’t let you walk outta here. Blood was lost. My baby cousin’s blood.”

“You said Evans was bribed- What was he offered? He got to live?” Matt interjects.

“Yeah, he’s alive. And better than that,” Vic shrugs, “He’s free.”

“He’s not here ?” You sputter, wiping your eyes. You really came here for nothing ? No wonder you got pulled into this shit. You might as well have placed a target on your back as soon as you walked through the door and asked to see Evans. 

“Nope. Fisk cooked the books and let him out.”

Matt steps forward, expression hard. “Okay, there are guards coming. Her and I have to get out of this safely. We can find Evans. He’s the only proof we have that Fisk set this whole thing up-”

“So what?”

“So if I can get to him-”

“-You can barely get to your feet!”

“Vic, please ,” Matt’s voice drops, “You took a shot at Fisk and you missed. I won’t . Not if you can get us out of here.”

There’s a finality in Matt’s words that itches at something inside you. A deep wrath and loathing towards Fisk so thick you could spread it on toast. What on god’s green earth happened between them to cause it? This was beyond principal, this was purely personal. Was it the hits on his friend, Karen? The attempts on his own life? Something told you that’s just a very small piece of a very large puzzle.

Vic finally nods and shouts an order at the men in the room. They drag in the unconscious guard from the hallway and begin to transfer clothes.

Matt breathes out a sigh of relief, leaning his head back against the wall and closing his eyes. You knew you had maybe a few more minutes before the roofie dose, however small, couldn’t be fought off any longer. You step beside him, placing an encouraging hand on his shoulder… but he waves you off gently, muttering, “ I’m fine .”

Vic talks to both of you. “Find the inmate who shanked Fisk. Make good on your word. Or we’ll come find ya.”

Matt nods once. Vic looks at you to agree as well. Fuck. 

You nod too.

Vic gives a final command: “Get em’ outta here.”

One of Albanian inmates, now dressed in the riot gear of the guard, takes Matt’s left side, arm slung around him to keep him vertical. You step forward, prepared to take his other, but Matt shrugs you off, hand trailing down your arm. “No. The hallways are too narrow. Stay behind me.”

With how fast everything is moving, you don’t have time to argue that he’s in no condition to be protecting or leading you. Instead, the Albanian’s poise to open the door, before Matt tells them to wait.

“Hold on a second- There’s two guards.”

Another instance of how the hell he could know that, yet you couldn’t find it in you to care right now. You’ll pick his brain later. A second passes.

Matt tenses. “Now.”

As soon as the door opens, you’re thrown back into the chaos of the prison. Red lights wash the halls while the same tinny announcement booms overhead. The Albanian pulls Matt to the left, but he pulls back, insisting there are two guards. The three of you walk down the hall. The alarms wailing hurt your ears, and the low light is hard to see through, so you grasp onto Matt’s suit jacketed shoulder. You hold the bunch of fabric like you’re following your friend through a haunted house.

“We need to go through this door on the left. Here,” Matt directs, slowing your group to the barred door.

“It’s locked!” The Albanian complains. An inmate and a guard are throwing each other into the walls a few paces down the hall.

“There’s a key- In your top left pocket.”

The Albanian fumbles, and sure enough he pulls a key. Matt sways, leaning into the wall. Since the Albanian’s busy, you come back up under Matt’s arm. He feels heavier than before, and you can feel the drug induced lethargy creeping in. Your mission driven side of you knew you’d risk life and limb to get him safe now. Fighter or not, he was just a civilian.

Guards begin to barrel down the hall. “There they are!” They shout into the air as the door in front of you opens. You push Matt through first to safety. You then turn to kick with full force the chest of the guard charging at you. He stumbles backwards just enough to slam the door on their faces.

As soon as you’re back through, Matt’s back draped on your shoulder like a 5’10” scarf. The next door unlocks faster, and Matt urges you on. One way is blocked by skirmishing inmates, so he directs your trio the opposite direction. The Albanian holds Matt by the collar, even if you had him just fine yourself, and was trying to drag him to increase the pace. It agitates you quick, especially when you feel Matt trip over his feet trying to keep up.

“Quite manhandling him! I’ve got him!” You shout over the noise at the Albanian. 

He drops his grip. Matt mutters soft thanks under his breath. 

Through the next door is a whole new room of horrors. Guards and inmates battle it out. Blows landing and howls of pain echo like a cacophonic symphony of the riot. One inmate immediately punches at the Albanian, knocking him out of the picture. Matt beats into the inmate, landing quick and solid hits to the face before another guard decides to finish the job. He stumbles back, but doesn’t lose his grip of you.

The Albanian finds you both again, this time just as unsteady on his feet. He leads you both to the door, and you watch in horror as an inmate tears open a guards throat in a success of stabs.

You feel your blood rushing in your ears. Your vision distorted from the lethal amounts of adrenaline racing through your veins. Somewhere in your path, the guards begin to deploy tear gas. You cling to Matt like a lifeline; His grey suit clenched in your grip. 

You can’t follow the twists and turns logically anymore. You react on pure instinct and the shouted directions from Matt when tear gas stings your eyes. You begin to blink. There’s sunlight up ahead.

“I got civilians here!” Yells the Albanian, shoving you both into real guards hands. “Get them out! Go! Go!”

If these guards want to kill you, they don’t try. They just do their jobs, surrounding you and Matt as you’re borderline dragged through the court yard. From the blinding white sunlight, to the gas blotting out the scene, all you see are vague silhouettes tearing into each other. Smears of orange and black. 

“ Open the gate! Open the Gate! OPEN THE GATE!” The guard to your left shrieks into the scene. 

You hear the angel’s voice of rattling chain link fence and know that you’re almost out. The guards take their hands fully off Matt and you now, ushering you through the opening. The tear gas is too thick however, and you cant see 2 feet in front of you.

“I can’t see!” You strain out.

“Left- The door to exit is… 6 steps that way,” Matt answers. His voice is distant, and at this point it feels like towing a boulder on your shoulders. Your legs scream in pain. You cannot fail now. Not at the end.

The exit door appears like a mirage. It buzzes to let you through. You thank whatever’s looking out for you as Matt gets enough of a second wind to stumble to a comical yellow taxi waiting like a dog for it’s owner. You follow close behind, pulling the old door handle for him and letting him slide in first. Then you clamber in next to him.

“ Drive… Drive! ” Matt slurs as he lays over the seats.

“Where do you need to go?” You demand quickly, knowing he had seconds of consciousness left.

“Just… Home. Get me home.”

And then he slips away.

The taxi driver starts to roll on, pulling the old rattling machine out of the prison drive. It allows you the first moment of respite and you breathe deeply. Your forehead is still split, blood smeared down your face. Your shoulders hum in low, growling pain from the impacts of the batons. Exhaustion made your limbs heavy, but over all, you got out semi-intact.

You couldn’t say the same for Matt.

He’s sprawled on the two seats next to you, entire self disheveled. Hair a mess. Tie loose. Blood staining the white button down of his suit. You can’t imagine what bruises were watercolored under it. Red paints from his nose, from his ear, from multiple cuts in his skin… And even then, with his eyes closed, his dark lashes stark against his cheek, he looks peaceful. Like relief flooded him as soon as he could give in to the sedation. You find yourself lingering for a second too long, eyes gently memorizing his expression. It warrants an internal reprimand.

Your sixth sense starts to whisper. Something's off. Maybe this was just residual anxiety pent up from the experience you just had… No. Something was definitely off.

The driver. He hadn’t spoken yet. He hadn’t even asked where you were going. 

“You know where you’re heading?” You ask innocuously. As discreet as you can be, you pull a seat belt over to buckle Matt’s limp body.

The driver doesn’t answer. You make eye contact with him through the rearview mirror. He gives a grimy smile. The wrongness of it crawls down your back.

The taxi is still rolling at at least 45 down the two lane road when he pulls a gun from his jacket.

Fuck .

He tries to aim back at you but you spring into action. You grab at his hand, forcing the gun to veer to the right. A bullet sings, shattering the rear passenger window. Matt doesn’t even twitch. 

The car begins to swerve, and you take your grip on his arm, using your weight to catch it against the plastic divider. During one of the turns of the car, you’re sent rolling across the seat, bending the arm with you. The bone shatters like a cheap toothpick. The driver shrieks and drops the gun into the backseat.

You retrieve it, holding it to the head of the driver. You slowly click the hammer. He’s whimpering like a baby by this point, clutching his arm.

Your voice feels cold. “You have three seconds to exit this vehicle or your brain paints the windshield.”

“The cars still going-!”

“One.”

“You broke my arm-!”

“Two.”

“Fuck, you crazy bitch-!”

“Three.”

“Fuck this-!”

The driver dives out onto the moving pavement. Lucky bastard. Your finger was white hot on the trigger. Tossing the gun into the passengers seat, you jump through the middle space of the cab, keeping the car steady as you take over. This was an old hunk of junk, a checker cab from the 60s. You’re pretty sure Bobby has at least 2 hidden in the salvage yard.

Your hands wrap around the wheel, foot finding the gas. You check your mirrors to see the previous driver standing in the road. You exhale, leaving him and the prison in your rearview. Alright. So you have a stolen taxi with a bullet hole in the right window, a roofied lawyer bleeding in the back seat, a mob boss gunning for your head, and a prison riot in the rearview… And it wasn’t even dinnertime yet.

You really deserve hazard pay.

taglist <3: @echo-dreams-of-recs @juskonutoh

[nahoney22]

hi! congratulations on 3k followers, massively deserved. I was wondering if you could do a request with a female reader? I loved ‘Need a hand?’ And I can’t stop replaying the scene where reader kisses echo to escape the guards and was wondering if you could do the same with the rest of the batch and who initiates it first? But can it be a little more on the suggestive side 👀… Up to you of course! I adore your stuff, especially echo works 😊 thanks! Take your time. 💕💕💕

The Perfect Plan***

All Bad Batch Boys X F!Reader

warnings: rather suggestive so 18+ only please, female reader, first kiss, kissing to escape guards/empire, touchy-feely, implied sexual content, explicit language, strip club, neck kissing, dry humping, lap dance/strip, mutual pining, non established relationships.

authors note: thank you! That fic is one of my favourites ever so I’m glad you like. Also, @clu-ven did something similar to this and they’re amazing so check theirs out too! 🤍

Echo

Echo was the one who initiated the plan, driven by the height of the chase and long-burning emotions.

"Echo, they're right on us. We have nowhere to go," you gasped, sweat trickling down your face. Assigned to retrieve crucial information from an imperial base, your discretion had failed and a swarm of guards were hot on your tail.

With determination, Echo took a cue from Fives (whether he bullshitted the idea to him before he wasn’t certain) and knew what he wanted to do. He silently took your hand, and you looked at him with wide, confused eyes, realising the danger of getting caught. "Echo-?" you started, but he drew you into an alcove in the dim alleyway, pressing his lips against yours.

The adrenaline rushed through you as the guards moved away, and you found yourself melting against his mouth. Neither of you pulled away despite now being in the clear after seeming like a couple having an intimate moment. Eagerly, he held your jaw, capturing your sweet whimpers as he pressed himself closer to you, seizing the moment that he may never get again.

“Echo,” you say his name again but this time it was sultry and needy, just saying his name felt amazing as your hands tug on his armour to bring him closer. He’s flushed against you now, his knee pressed between your thighs that leaves you hot and flustered. “Fuck,”

You whimper at the sensation, not being able to help but grind down against his limb that earns a low chuckle in response. “You’re making me so hard.”

When he pulls away, you gasp as he nips at your bottom lip as he parts, leaving you wanting more. “Shall we get out of here, sweetheart?” He asks, both flustered and a little smug at your reaction.

You quietly nod your head, linking your arm through his and take off. You had a lot to talk about on the way back to the Marauder.

Hunter

The club music blares, strobe lights flashing against your bodies as you and Hunter squeeze through the crowd, staying close to evade your pursuers.

"Hunter!" you shout over the music, and he looks over his shoulder, taking your arm and guiding you through the exotic dancers with the both of you feeling out of place. "We need to blend in!"

When the two of you get to the dance floor, surrounded by heated bodies that flushed and grinds against anyone, Hunter asks through gritted teeth, "Blend in how?" He senses the enemy getting closer.

You quickly assess the situation, scanning the dancing couples and then the more intimate couples… and an idea pops into your head. "Pin me up against the wall,"

“Huh?!” He stares at you wide-eyed and completely shocked at what you just said.

“Pin me up against the wall,” you suggest again moving closer to him, breath hot against his face and fully aware that it's a risky move that may even affect your relationship but you feel desperate to not get caught. "Now."

His eyes shift, but he complies. He grabs both of your hands, pushing you back into the corner of the club, pinning your arms above your head. Rougher than expected. Your heart races, not anticipating this to be so alluring, and you hope the music masks the sound of your pounding heart.

"You... you need to hide your face," you say, loud enough for him to hear, his long hair and tattoo being an obvious giveaway. When he gazes down at you, something in him snaps. He leans down, his breath hot against your neck…

“Hunte- OH!” You whimper in pleasure, his lips sucking and kissing along the exposure of your neck. His kisses like fire.

Your back arches in pleasure, flushing your body against his which only has him groaning in ecstasy, his length noticeable as it presses to your crotch. Has… has he wanted to do this as much as you wanted to? “I love hearing you whimper darling, don’t stop.” His hot tongue licks along your neck, up to your ear lobe that had you doing what he loved to hear as he gently starts to suck on it.

But, the plan worked.

Not only had the pursuers turned a blind eye to the both of you, you and Hunter went to find somewhere a little bit more private. His lips had moved to yours by now and your hands had moved to somewhere else too.

Wrecker

Wrecker's world stops the moment your lips touch his. The urgency of the pursuit fades away as he stands there, caught up in the unexpected moment. You had asked him to kiss you as a form of public display, but he hadn't fully grasped the seriousness until you literally jumped into his arms, your legs wrapping around him as your lips met.

"Kiss me back, please," you whisper against him, a hint of desperation in your voice, seeking both safety from the guards and perhaps some deeper connection that is above his average flirting.

He responds, wrapping his arms around you, holding you close as the two of you blend into the shadows, using the act of affection as a cover. The guards might be searching, but they don't seem to suspect anything between you two.

With one eye discreetly open, you notice the guards still in the area, and you realize you have to escalate the act. You whisper softly and enticingly, “Touch my breasts.”

“Are ya sure?” He rasps shakily, savoring the taste of your lips as he briefly pulls back to look down at your breasts, covered by a shirt. Nodding in confirmation, he slowly moved his hand over your stomach before he cups your breast in his large rough hand.

You gasp under the touch, loud and wanton as he starts to fondle them. “They feel so fucking good.” He grunts, not caring if this was just a small ploy but as you keen into him, your tongue begging entrance to his mouth, he knew it was more than that. He swallows your moans and claims your mouth with his own.

“Move along citizens!” One of the guards called out to the two of you but paying them no mind, they soon grunted in almost disgust and disbanded.

The Marauder shook pretty hard that night.

Tech

"We seem to have hit a dead end. These directions from Cid's buyers are, unsurprisingly, incorrect," Tech's annoyed tone echoes as both of you stand in front of a towering wall that was supposed to be your way out.

"I couldn't dislike her more than I already do," you sigh, rubbing your temples, trying to devise a plan to escape from the angry Weequays you just stole from. Normally, Tech would have a solution by now, but as he looks around, silent, you start to feel hopeless. Then, an audacious idea strikes you.

"Tech, I have an idea, but it's a bit bold," you announce.

Curiosity shines in his eyes, visible behind his helmet. "Speak quickly," he urges.

"You need to..." you hesitate, feeling a swirl of nervous anticipation as you notice the innocence and intrigue in his gaze, "you need to act like my boyfriend. Or, to put it plainly, like we're a couple."

"I'm not entirely certain how that will help," he responds, seemingly puzzled.

"Think about it. Girls are always fawning over Hunter at bars, and we cringe and look away," you explain rapidly, hoping he grasps the hint.

"A public display of affection," he nods, acknowledging that it might be the best alternative. "But I don't see how merely holding your hand will be effective in this situation."

You gulp, your heart racing. "You need to take off your armor. They'll recognize it, but they haven't seen your face." Although hesitant, he quickly starts stripping off his gear, and you struggle to control your breathing as he does it in a way that leaves you a bit weak-kneed. You've always found Tech attractive and harbored a small crush on him, but you wish it didn't take such circumstances to get a little closer to him. You can only hope it won't jeopardize your friendship.

With his armor out of sight, Tech turns to you, standing tall as he pushes his goggles up his nose. "What's next?"

Anxious and apprehensive, you take his hand and pull him closer, backing up until your back presses against the wall, causing his throat to bob nervously as he swallows. "Place your hand here," you whisper, guiding his hand to your waist and then the other to the wall beside your head, concealing both of you in shadows.

His breath is warm on your face, and his eyes scan the surroundings. "I estimate they'll be here in approximately thirty-seven seconds," he rasps, unexpectedly getting a little closer, his chest brushing against yours. "I need to tell you something quickly," he says suddenly, catching you off guard.

You blink, nodding for him to continue.

“I have always imagined pinning you up against a wall like this.”

Before you could even have time to react to his alluring tone, the sound of hurrying footsteps were heard nearby and that’s when Tech took action. His lips press to yours, frigid but warm but as you let out a very soft moan, his body relaxes into yours and soon he’s kissing you with an intensity that scorches your insides.

The sound and the thought of the Weequays had completely vanished from your mind, just relishing the feeling of you and Tech together as his fingers gently bite into your waist that had you flushing yourself against him in response.

“Such a good girl,” he rasps against your mouth, trailing his tongue along your lower lip that makes you almost keel over but luckily his hold on you keeps you stable and you burn hot as you feel the ache in his pants press against you. Hard.

After a short while, the kiss is broken and it comes to both of your attention that the pursuers were long gone. And they had been for a while but the two of you clearly got caught up in the moment. He smiles kindly at you before gently kissing your cheek, genuine and soft before pulling away.

“Allow me to put my gear back on and then I’ll be more than happy to hold your hand as we head back to the ship.”

This man surprises you more and more each day. Maybe your plan had spurred you both in the right direction after all.

Crosshair

As Crosshair and you were tasked with keeping a lookout on top of a building, you never expected your cover to be blown. As he observes the approaching enemies through his scope, Crosshair curses and urgently pulls you to your feet, rushing you inside the building.

"They're going to find us!" you express worry as he guides you through the stairwells until you both reach a door with loud music blaring from within. To your surprise, the settlement you were on top of is actually a club, specifically a strip club.

"Oh," you squeak, but before you can react further, Crosshair has already dragged you inside, heading towards the exit. However, both of you freeze as the door is flung open, the pursuers searching for you both, while the patrons and dancers continue to revel in the club's ambiance.

Then, an idea strikes Crosshair. "You can hate me later, but we have to do this."

Confused, you're about to ask what he means, but suddenly, he firmly grabs your waist, backing you into a dimly red-lit corner of the room and forcefully makes you sit on his lap on a nearby loveseat.

"Crosshair, what-.” you begin to question.

"We have to blend in," he grunts sternly, cutting you off and wrapping his arms around your body, pulling you close. "Hide your face."

You’re completely flustered, never been so close to Crosshair before but you couldn’t lie and say you didn’t enjoy it because you did. You and Crosshair seemed to tip toe over each other's true feelings for one another quite often lately.

“We have to blend in properly in that case,” you whisper against him before quickly sitting back and he’s about to curse at you for not following his orders but his words are caught in his throat as you begin to slide your shirt off your body and grind your hips down on him.

He’s rendered speechless as he watches you but hey, if it does the trick… why not? His hands set on your waist, eyes now blown with lust as he gladly accepts this little lap dance from you, watching your hair fall past your shoulders as you tilt your head to the side, moving against him slowly.

“Look at you,” he starts with a coy smile, hand moving down to your arse and giving it a small squeeze, “have you done this before?”

“Not at all,” you rasp, a little nervous but feeling a heat course through your veins under his touch. You lean closer, nose just brushing against his, “are they still looking for us?” You whisper. He looks up carefully and nods his head, the enemy still in close range.

“Yeah. But you’re doing well.” He mutters, smirking in pleasure as he feels himself strain against his codpiece. He then groans as you grind down harder, his vision blurring with stars. “D-don’t stop.”

The cord had snapped and you launched forward, capturing his lips with yours to create the perfect plan of distraction. He kisses back feverishly, whispering your name. “That’s it, grind yourself against my cock.” He breathes into your mouth and you let out your own whimper of ecstasy.

“Anything for you.”

With the enemy way out of range now, this still didn’t stop the pair of you and in fact found somewhere more discreet to carry on this naughty moment.

Masterlist

Tags: @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @oohyesplease @theroguesully @mustluvecho @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @rain-on-kamino @either-madness-or-brilliance @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @kixs-husband @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @seriowan @imalovernotahater @kaminocasey y @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @raevulsix @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder r @mysticalgalaxysalad @photogirl894 @fantasyproductions

[thatfandomslut]

Janis's Ending

Janis's part two ending to It's a Competition.

Word Count: 1.2k

Trigger Warnings: descriptions of making out

Cady Heron wasn't the best at holding in information as she sat next to (Y/n) in their English class. As soon as the bell rang, the teacher instructed them to start on their writing assignment, but Cady couldn't focus on the work in front of her. This was something (Y/n) quickly came to realize as their desk began to shake with every bounce of Cady's knee. "What's wrong, Cady? You're making my 'r' turn into an 'm.'" (Y/n) said, placing a hand on Cady's shoulder to hopefully provide some aid in calming her down. However, Cady almost became more tense under (Y/n)'s touch.

"I need to know who you have a crush on." Cady blurted out, causing (Y/n)'s eyes to widen as she eyed Cady suspiciously. She sat there in silence, slowly retrieving her hand from her shoulder as she processed Cady's blunt request. "Okay, I know I kind of blurted that out, but I've been struggling to keep my thoughts on a few things to myself, but if you tell me who you like, I can focus better. Of course, I know that's personal and something you probably don't want to share, so don't feel forced."

(Y/n) bit her lip to hide her snicker over Cady's rambling as she cleared her throat in order to catch Cady's attention. She gave herself a moment under the strawberry blonde's watchful gaze as she considered the possibilities that might occur if she told the person she liked her feelings. "Okay, but don't laugh… I know that she'll never like me back." (Y/n) sucked in a breath as she looked around to make sure no one else was listening. Unlike Gretchen, she trusted Cady with a secret like this. "I like Janis. Which, I know, is crazy. She's so cool and always has an opinion on everything. I really admire how outspoken she is." (Y/n) sighed, resting her cheek on her fist.

Cady took a moment to let the information sink in as she examined (Y/n)'s face gently. She had never heard (Y/n) get so vulnerable with anyone before. A slow smile snuck up on her face as she nudged (Y/n) gently. "I think you're amazing and Janis would be lucky to have you in her life." She said softly, watching a small smile tug at the corner of (Y/n)'s lips. There was a brief moment of realization that Regina was sure to go into a frenzy, but Cady stuffed that fear away. "Maybe you could just talk to her. I know it sounds scary, but Janis appreciates bold people. Why not be bold?" She questioned as her eyebrows wiggled playfully.

(Y/n) tapped her knees gently as she looked over at Cady in thought. "I don't know," she hummed softly, glancing out the window for a moment. "I mean, Janis does seem like the person to like bold people, but I don't know if I'm bold enough to tell her how I feel. Very cowardly, I know." (Y/n) sighed softly, looking down at her paper that barely held anything on it. She was now too distracted to work on the prompt given to them by the teacher. Normally, she was good at writing prompts, but right now, with Janis on her mind, it was safe to say she wasn't sure how to proceed with her paper on 'What Does Love Mean To You?'

Cady knew it wasn't her place to tell Janis, but she did accidentally let it slide to Damian after English class when they were heading to meet with their resident artist.

"She what? Tell me exactly what she told you, Cady." Janis had her hands on Cady's shoulders as she looked deeply into her blue eyes. She was searching for any hint of a lie on the girl's features. She didn't want to find a lie, of course, but that's what she felt like she would find. "You have to tell me now, Cady. You didn't think Damian would just keep this information from me, did you? He's literally my best friend and the biggest gossip we know."

Janis was right, but Cady couldn't help but narrow her eyes at Damian briefly, even as he held his hands up as if to say he was innocent. Which he wasn't. "Fine, just loosen your grip on my shoulders." Cady winced as Janis sent a sheepish, apologetic grin and let go of her shoulders, offering them both a small rub when she did. "Thank you… She said she likes you and admires how you're outspoken. Speaking of outspoken, I think you should just talk to her. I was your middle man, I gave you the information, now it's your turn." Cady told Janis, crossing her arms gently as she looked over to where Regina, Gretchen, and Karen were waiting for her. "I have to go now." She said timidly as she walked off to meet with the Plastics.

"She's right," Damian spoke up with his signature smirk. Janis knew that Cady was right, too. She now just needed to figure out how she was going to ask (Y/n) out officially. That's when an idea began to formulate in her mind. Texting (Y/n) to meet her in the park, Janis decided she would ask (Y/n) out while teaching her how to skateboard. This was something she promised to do a couple of months back but hadn't had the chance to.

When the time came around, Janis smiled as she stood up from the picnic bench when she saw (Y/n). "Hey, stranger," she greeted as she held out a board for (Y/n). For a moment, (Y/n) looked confused before realizing what was going on. Janis watched a giant smile break out of (Y/n)'s face as she placed the skateboard down, trying to get on it. Janis helped her, taking her hands softly. "I remembered you wanted to learn, and I finally got the chance to teach you. You're going to want to kick gently. Lean forward to go left and lean backward to go right. We'll go slow." Janis said as (Y/n0's fingers laced between her own.

"Am I doing it right?" (Y/n) asked as she began to kick off, her knees wobbling as she tried to maintain her balance. Janis quickly stabilized her, causing her to grow confident as her knees stopped wobbling as much. "So, lean this way for left… and this way for right." (Y/n) tested it, the board slipping from under her. A small yelp escaped her lips as her eyes squeezed together, however; the fall she expected never came. Instead, she was carefully wrapped in Janis's arms.

Janis smiled down at her as she processed that she was no longer falling. She tried to thank Janis but nothing left her lips. Instead of her crashing and burning, her lips came crashing onto Janis's, who quickly reciprocated the kiss. Janis kept her in a solid grip as they kissed, (Y/n) gaining more of her balance as she wrapped her arms around Janis's neck. "I've been waiting a long time to do that," Janis said with a cheeky smile playing on her face.

"Me too," (Y/n) whispered a bit breathlessly. "We don't have to stop though." She added and the two reconnected once more.

By the end of the night, Janis had sent Damian and Cady a text that said 'Guess who has a girlfriend bitches?' The competition was won by Janis, not that she cared about it. She only cared that sitting right beside her, telling her about a new movie she saw in theaters, was her girlfriend.

[zeroannn]

Whispers & Shadows

A yume fanfiction of

Canon "Simon 'Ghost' Riley" 💀 x My OC "Badger" 🦋

June 19th 20xx

It’s been ten days since the last time the task force was assigned on a mission, thousand miles away from their HQ. A joint force between the British Air Force and US Special Forces. The mission took place in the high mountains of East Siberia. Where an illegal mining site was informed to contain intel of Makarov’s Confidential Files. The task force had been on a recon for days before they finally found the compound.

The mission went well so far, as the team managed to infiltrate the facility without getting spotted. Achieving to retrieve some documents and DMS for their further lead. One step closer to take down the world infamous terrorist. 

“All units, we have our package secured. I repeat, package has been secured.”

A firm tone of the captain stated through the intercoms, followed by the nods of the other personnel. 

Just as they were about to leave the facility, another crackle from the radio was heard, along with a voice of concern.

“Captain, we found a room full of explosives at the lowest level. This place is a set up, we need to leave the compound immediately!”

“Dammit! How many times do we have left?” The captain responded, his senses heightened as he raised his wrist to check his watch. “20 Minutes, 24 seconds.” The other line answered. The dread on each of the soldiers' faces were painted across their faces, realizing they only have so little time to get to safety.

“Everyone move out! We have to get out of here before this place explodes!”

With his strong command, the teams started to rush to the main level, where the mouth of the exit held to the surface. 

Unfortunately, luck was not on their side. The guards of the facility had already blocked some of the exit, equipped with high defenses and turrets to prevent the task force from getting out alive. As if the devotion of Makarov’s men were rooted to their heart, they were willing to sacrifice themselves inside the mining site. 

The Task force was desperate as the enemy launched a rocket, shot at their direction. Everything was a blur, a spinning rang lingers in each of the personnel's heads as ashes filled the air. Ghost, who was standing near the blast point, got flinged to the other end of the hall, with a stack of large wooden crates stuck between a wall, threatening to crush him from above.

“GHOST!” 

His eyes flickering, slowly opened to the sound of his name being shouted.

“GHOST, GET UP!”

Badger shouted once again, kneeling to his level as her hand hurriedly gripped the backstrap of his vest, forcefully pulling him out from the possible strike point of the crates. With all her strength she had, she managed to drag his body away just in time before the crates collided and slammed to the cold metal floor, a few inches away from his feet. She hauled him to the nearest cover as the enemy continuously showers them with bullets.

“Come on Ghost, I need you alive.” Badger pleaded as she sat him up to the wall. She could tell from his face that he was still dazed from the blow. “Where the hell is our backup!?” She roared, checking her magazine before peaking out of her cover, engaging a suppressive fire to the enemy.

“10 Miles away!” Gaz shouted back whilst checking through their GPS system. 

“Well we don’t have much time here, this site is about to blow! We need air support ASAP!” Soap yelled in frustration as sprayed through the enemy before rebounding to his cover. Reloading his empty magazine with the remaining ammunition in his vest. “I’m running low on magz!”

“We’re surrounded!” the other team mate was getting devastated. “Hold your ground, help is on the way. We just need to push through the tunnel!” The captain asserted, advising the task force to venture through the hindrance of the enemy. They have made it this far, they couldn’t back down now.

“7 MINUTES!”

a team member yelled out, reminding the task force of the time they had left. 

“Can you fight?”

Badger asked the skull-masked lieutenant with a fret. She checked through his body for any physical injuries. “Yeah, I still have my limbs attached.” 

Badger was unpleased by his nonchalant response, but knew better that Ghost could push himself to his limit. “Don’t bullshit me around, Ghost. You feel anything hurt?”

“Solid. No pain at all.” Ghost crawled his back behind the wall to get back to his feet. Badger gave him a helping hand by dragging him by his shoulder. When he was about to take a step, he fumbled forward with Badger catched him by his arm.

“Oh sure, Solid my arse, Lt.” 

She grumbled, leading him to lay back to the wall. “You’re not even in a good shape to walk.”

“I can still fight, this isn’t something to worry about.” Ghost repulsed, steadying his weapon to his side. “We still need to run if you don’t want your body to blow into a million pieces.” Badger argued back with a frown. Though worry could be seen through her eyes. 

“Can we save the bunfight for later? We need to get out of this shithole first!”

Soap intervened through the comms. 

The teams split into groups as they took turns to change through covers and give suppressive fire. They were able to advance a few feet closer to the mouth of the tunnel but time was running out. 

“3 MINUTES!” a member spat out. The determination in his voice began to mix with desperation. “We’re done for.” Another one muttered in distress as the rest started to feel discouraged about the situation. The enemy won’t stop spraying them with bullets. 

“I guess this is it huh? One final moment of our life?” Gaz repined, his tone filled with desolation. “We still have time boys, keep your heads up! Don’t let fear get the best of you.” Captain Price spurred bluffly, maintaining his faith to the completion of the mission.

No matter how much they tried to push forward, the enemy remained to hold the upper hand. The units were running out of bullets, some even relying only on their sidearms. They were at the end of one’s rope with each passing seconds.

Badger glanced at the lieutenant who hid behind the cover to her side. His body was already exhausted from all the turbulence of combat, not to mention he had his leg injured from the previous blast incident. Ghost could feel her eyes on him as he slowly shifted his gaze to meet hers. 

They both stare at each other for the following seconds, the jarring sound of bullets hitting through metals became a distant noise as they fade to the background. Every tick of seconds that passed felt longer than it should. 

Badger gave him a smile as she stated,

“It was nice to know you, Lt.” 

He raised one of his brows, disagreeing with the nonsense she spat out during this critical moment. “You say it as if we’re about to part ways.”

“There’s a possibility, chances are low for us to make it out of here. Therefore, I want to thank you, for all the things that we have, everything that we’ve been through. You’re the most reliable ally I have ever known for my entire life. I just want to say that I adore you. A lot. More than you could ever imagine.”

His eyes widened in surprise at the sudden confession. He was baffled, frozen in place without a single word. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest, aside from the effect of his adrenaline of course.

“You really are a pessimistic cynic, eh? Always expect for the worst.” he scoffed under his mask along with a head shook. “I don’t believe this is the last for the both of us, or for any of us. But if it does, then I will find you in another lifetime.”

Badger snorted in return, cackling to his delusional statement. “You believe in such fiction? I thought you’re the logical-type of a man.” 

“Maybe, but when it comes to you, I started to believe in fantasy.”

She couldn’t help but chuckle as she thought this stoic man who refused to even believe in dreams had gone wild in their final minutes. “At least I can finally convince you to believe in something.”

The whole forces were ready to meet their fate, as dead as a sitting duck covering from the rain shells. Alas, when hope began to fade, a loud sound of rotor blade swirling outside of the tunnel as it turned silent. The enemy finally stopped firing their firearms and turned to the swirling noise.

“Everybody take cover! Danger close!” Captain Price ordered as the chaingun of the Apache sprayed through the tunnel. Hydra rockets were fired, destroying most of the enemy vehicles parked around the tunnel. Even big trucks to carry loads of mines were obliterated.

Price turned the channel in his intercom to the Pilot of the Apache “Took you long enough, Eagle-one. Direct hit, target destroyed.”

“The mountains are not helping with the signals, Bravo-six. We have a hard time finding your location.”

“ONE MINUTE!!!” a shout from a team member dragged them back to their unresolved situation. They were still far from a safe position in the compound. The facility was only seconds away from being destroyed by the explosives planted below. The task force needed to make a run to the exit. 

Badger immediately dashed to the side of the skull-masked operator as she strapped his arms across her. Providing balance for his wounded leg. “Don’t even say anything, just run.” she refused to start another session of quarrel with him as they sprinted towards the light on the end of the tunnel

5… 4… 3… 2… 1…

A blinding glow flashed through the compound with a thundering blast traveling through the air. Dust mixed with snow filled the atmosphere of the frosty mountains. The sound of cough and wails echoed as soldiers made it out alive in one piece, leaving only minor injuries from the battle.

Ghost had his body face down on the ground from the impact. Getting his consciousness back, his eyes darted around the scene, slowly finding her to be dragged a few inches away from him. 

“Badger…” he weakly called for her callsign.

“Badger, do you copy?” the lieutenant repeated, his heart pounding faster, mind already swirling with any outcomes and what ifs. He slowly kneeled and pulled himself up to stand on his feet. When he made his way closer to approach her, his intercom crackled.

“Solid.”

She replied through their channel. Rolling her body to the side, she now faced him eye to eye with a smile slowly crossed her face.

It’s a firm solid unlike yours.”

A scoff escaped from behind the black fabric of his balaclava. “Cheeky bastard. You still have the energy to goof around after all those explosions?” his skull-pattern gloved hand stretched out to her, offering to help her stand up.

“Nope, that’s all I’ve got left for now.” she accepted his aid, gripping to his hand tightly as she pushed herself off the ground. Sweeping the dust and snow away from her garments. 

“Alright ye lovebirds, can you flirt somewhere else? I need a peace of mind from all the loud noise and outbursts. I’m submitting a request for a leave right after this.” Soap grumbled as he walked past them with a light tap to Ghost on his shoulder.

“A vacation sounds like a great idea.” Price tuned in with a nod, ideas started to flow through his head, imagining the warm breeze of spring, a contrast to the frosty temperature in this site. “You approve of our leave then, Captain?” Gaz asked for the captain’s validation, his eyes already gleaming with excitement as the fatigue slowly washed away from the intriguing news.

“We can discuss it when we’re back. For now, let’s get to the extraction point. I’m sure our boys need a good rest from all these complications. Now move out, before I’m freezing my arse off over here.” Captain Price instructed as the task force strode away from the compound, walking a few more miles to the extraction point and eventually return to their base.

April 19th 20xx

Task Force 141 finally got approved for their leave and planned to take their spring vacation to Edinburgh, visiting parks and gardens to enjoy the blooming flowers and the green view of the landscapes. They go on picnic, take pictures and even run around the fields. 

After a few more hours of walking with the team, Ghost nudged his elbow to Badger as he pointed at a different path through the garden. She stopped in her tracks and looked at the direction that Ghost pointed before she shifted her gaze to him with an acquiescence nod. They silently parted their way with the rest of the team and strolled to a different area.

There, they found a beautiful, quiet place with trees lined around the area like natural fences, offering them some personal solitude. The sun ray stood perfectly just above the line of the trees, a golden tinted warmth illuminating their skin. 

They stood close together in silence, savoring the beauty that nature held for their eyes. The tranquility was cut through as Ghost raised his hand and asked her “Would you like to dance, m’lady?”

Badger had her eyes widened at his request, her heart melted by his gesture as she couldn't help but smile and placed her hand on top of his. Their palms clasped with each other as she answered, “Certainly, m’lord.”

They danced in the midst of grassy soil, each step synchronized with one another as her white cottage dress bloomed with every swing they made with their motions. The radiant glow of the golden hour casting through their stirring figures, dazzling each of their surface, enchanting the view to their eyes. 

With a round of twirls, he disturbed the silence to ask her, 

“Would you fall in love with me again?”

She chuckled, twirling into his arms and rested the back of her head to his chest,

“I will. I will fall in love with you, over and over again.”

Author's note:

Oh I love pushing myself to use 100% of my brain capacity and complete this one shot fanfic of my yume ship in one night without sleep. (Yes started to write this fic around midnight and complete it around 10 AM in the morning) (My eyes were bloodshot red but it was worth it).

This was made for a yume collaboration event on X held by a friend of mine @/ Foxyinhere with the entry of "Whispers of Springs, Shadows of War" the event was held to celebrate spring post-war (fictional one). I was originally wanted to make a comic strip but given the limited time I have and stuff I obligated to do in real life, I couldn't do much. So instead, I made an illustration of Ghost and Badger dancing at the hidden garden of Edinburgh to the first whisper of spring.

[bones4thecats]

Hello ^-^ may I please request the housewarden's reactions to their s/o working REALLY hard on a paper for a school contest, but it gets stolen and turned in by someone else. On top of that, the paper wins the contest and the thief gets the credit. Thank you in advance ❤️

A/N: Apologies that this took so long to write, I've been getting ready for my classes starting up again. But I do hope you enjoy this Anon!!

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❤️ Riddle knew you were working hard on this next assignment, and it made him very happy to see you finally taking a lot of time to make the paper perfect. And seeing your nose scrunch up in concentration made him chuckle inside.

❤️ Without your knowledge, your tart-loving boyfriend had read you paper, and he swore on the inside that this was going to be the winning paper! It was so good, the way you explained the topic was amazing!!

❤️ He had expected you to run back to the dorm with a very happy look, which seeing you frowning was something he did not expect in the slightest.

❤️ Hearing about the student who dared to do this to you made his blood boiled, if his cherry-red face didn't scream 'behead trial', welp!

❤️ Riddle obviously yelled at the student and beheaded him, along with informing the headmaster and contest's leaders about the 'incident', which, because of his reputation, they got punished severely for this.

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🦁 This lion could care less, at least that's what he says. Seeing you work tirelessly away on this paper was quite hilarious to him, he didn't even put that much effort in his familial relationships!

🦁 He didn't doubt you abilities to write, which is what he did enjoy you for, as if he was having a hard time sleeping somehow, he would just read a short story you wrote, it was like a bedtime story for adults!

🦁 When he heard from Ruggie about what happened, he was angry, just not visibly. He walked up to you and asked who it was before sending out another Savanaclaw student to retrieve the 'victorious' bastard who dared to hurt his S/O.

🦁 Leona didn't even have to use his fists against the student who had used your hard work, all he did was glare and scold them in a far more violent manner than the previous did.

🦁 Afterwards, he just lets you stay the night and sleeps the night and parts of the next day with you.

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🐙 Azul is a hard-working man, octo-mer? Whatever! He had built his life of his effort and amazing social skills, he can read people like open books, and he definitely understood how hard it is to win something of this caliber.

🐙 Your boyfriend was someone that you had read the article over and over, making sure it sounded good and flowed like, in your words, the sea that he swam in.

🐙 He had expected you to get the first place because of how excellent it was made, but when you came back alongside Jade and Floyd attempting to hold your emotions back, he immediately understood.

🐙 He had seen the student parading himself around the hallways alongside his buddies, laughing about how easy the mission was and how he was finally going to get the spotlight he deserved. Though, Azul could careless at the time, he recognized the paper once he saw you and sent the twins off to 'assist the student in manners'.

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☀️ Kalim is a very devoted lover, so, even when you were busy writing this paper for the contest, he was right there next to you, reading whilst you wrote the words down.

☀️ He wanted to appoint Jamil to help you out, because normally Jamil would help him out on a difficult subject, but every time you turned his offer down, he learned to just accept it and watch the words flow down on the papers.

☀️ Seeing you cry was something Kalim never liked, he loved seeing others smile and have fun, not sobbing their eyes out. So when you came running into his room crying, he grabbed onto you like a piece of tape to your fingers and didn't let go.

☀️ Eventually, he sent Jamil to grab the student, which he gladly did, knowing how much you were valued by the Al-Asim heir, and let's just say they weren't spared from a rare Kalim-yelling.

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👑 It was hard to make anything for Vil, but with this subject, he'd be not in an average, 'Vil is angry' mode, he'd be in a whole different level of pissed off.

👑 Because of how much he values his beauty, he would make sure whilst you spent hours upon hours on the paper that he'd check you face for any markings from concentrating and staring at the dreaded screen. (if you wrote it on a computer)

👑 He knew you would win the contest, you were his S/O after all, why wouldn't your effort prove victorious?

👑 Vil didn't see you immediately, in fact, he had heard from Rook that someone had stolen your paper and submitted it, and in the end, winning the contest without being caught, which caused him to freeze and glare at the hunter, obviously not mad at him, but at the person who did this heinous action.

👑 If they were in his dorm, he'd punish them accordingly, but if they were in another member's dorm, he'd speak with them and eventually trap them into punishing the guilty student with as much power as they would use.

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🎮 Idia was one of the first to see this happening, but he couldn't react accordingly, at least, the way 'normies' would.

🎮 He had seen you at his door the next day after submitting the paper that you had work graciously on and he believed you were attempting to trick him with the 'fake sadness to shock' trick.

🎮 Well you weren't, and that scared him tremendously.

🎮 Who would do this to you?! You were literally the nicest person he had ever met! And, thankfully from his availability to the school's cameras, he found out who did it and ended up sending the video to the contest's heads anonymously

🎮 This Shroud brother may be a very shy and reclusive person (don't tell him I said that, he'll flush and get upset again), but when it comes to the people he cares about, Idia would go through a massive crowd for them all.

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🐉 Malleus has no words.

🐉 He valued your hard work nearly more than anything really, it was fitting, as you were with him, and in turn, were destined to rule Briar Valley alongside this powerful dragon fae.

🐉 It surprising that somebody had the balls to face any potential harm by hurting you. Everybody has seen you and Malleus talking in either the halls or in Diasomnia's main lobby, so hearing about this was shocking.

🐉 Malleus definitely has Lilia stay with you, unless you requested his presence. If you did the latter, he'd send out Silver and/or Sebek to find the certain student who did this and would give them the scariest warning ever.

🐉 If you allowed him to confront the student himself, he'd have Lilia (most likely) stay with you as he hunted them down like a hawk.

🐉 Either way, the student gets the shit scared outta them. There's no stopping him here.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

(I think I'm pretty early to the event, but I can't help myself when you open a new request event :3 Anyway, before I request, I just want to say that I really enjoy your writing, and I really like the way you write the characters, and please don't pressure yourself and stay safe!♡)

"Trien-sensei... I was looking for your sir.... Ah, I'm sorry for bothering you, but can you give me some advices about how to study the history of magic?" I smiled awkwardly as I have been always nervous to ask for help when it comes to studying.

"As someone that comes from a different dimension, it's hard to study a history different from my own original place." I kept smiling nervously since the elementary school I have find it hard to talk with teachers as I get scared that I will annoy them.

Aaaah, thank you, thank you! 😭

A Storied Past.

"It is no bother." He waved a hand. "I am always willing to aid a student seeking knowledge."

"A-Are you sure?" you asked anxiously, stomach churning with unease. Nothing in Trein's demeanor or tone suggested annoyance--but you were sitting on a mountain's worth of nerves "I wouldn't want to impose..."

"I assure you, you are not imposing. A teacher's duty is not only to teach and to grade. We are also here to instill a love for learning and to nurture that sentiment in our students.

"You are a student that comes to us from another dimension. It is only natural that you would need to spend more time studying in order to catch up to your peers."

Trein cupped his chin, his gaze passing over to the shelves lining the library. "Surely you will be able to find suitable supplemental materials for reading here. If I were to make a few recommendations, hmm..."

He retrieved a few slim books and formed a pile of them in your arms. "You may begin with browsing these volumes to familiarize yourself with the basics. Should you have any questions, you may of course come to me with them. Ah, however... While I am an advocate for reading up on the History of Magic, it may also behoove you to experience the world for yourself.

"Why not pay a visit to Foothill Town and speak with the locals? Your peers will also do. You will be able to glean a wealth of information from that alone. Sage's Island are quite diverse--there are countless stories to be told, delicacies carried over from far-away hometowns, cultures and traditions that span centuries... Yes, I think that shall be your homework assignment for the weekend."

[felixcloud6288]

Dungeon Meshi Chapter 76

It's him! It's our boy!

Here's some ideas I got based on the title image:

The Lugantes appear to be dwarfs. They have a connection to the gold peelers. Maybe they hire people to assist with mining operations.

One of the gold peelers is dead. He kind of looks like the corpse retriever from chapter 31 who cast that illusion on Kabru's party but I'm probably not right.

The half-foot next to the Shadow Lord looks like the one from the bar in chapter 9. If he is, then that bar was likely owned by the Shadow Lord. I wonder if the people the orcs killed were ever resurrected.

The Shadow Lord appears to have some connection to the corpse retrievers Kabru killed. If true, then the Shadow Lord may have been helping them track adventurers and cover up their actions for a cut of the profits. Maybe he even sent his own men to kill adventurers and sent the corpse retrievers to "discover" the bodies.

That informant isn't an elf, but they're wearing the same cloak the Canaries wear. The informant has a connection to Fionil so I double-checked her appearance and she's also wearing the same cloak the Canaries wear. Fionil and the informant might be working for the Canaries, but the informant might also be acting as a double agent by giving information to the Lugantes as well.

Had to review the last few chapters cause I wasn't sure why Lycion was okay and just chilling with Laios's party.

He wasn't able to help the other canaries last chapter cause he was busy restraining Izutsumi.

Enough time passed since the end of chapter 74 that Izutsumi was able to get dressed. I don't know if I'd rather take the reasonable assumption that Kabru convinced Lycion and Izutsumi to stop fighting and she got dressed after, or if I'd rather take the silly approach and say the two of them just decided to stop fighting on their own and were just sitting around eating the leftover bavarois until Kabru showed up.

Izutsumi's scarf is tied in a bow and I refuse to believe she would have done that, and I am therefore going to headcanon that Lycion tied her scarf into a bow.

Fleki isn't dead so the lion obeyed the letter of Marcille's command to not kill anyone but not the spirit.

Mithrun survived by teleporting into a giant spider. The thing that hit the wall last chapter was the spider's guts.

That's...really gross.

And the teddy bear spider had teeth.

Mithrun can't teleport when making a lot of contact? So this means a grappler opponent is a hard counter if they can manage to grab and pin him before Mithrun teleports them.

Did Kabru choke Mithrun out? And was Mithrun the one who made the cuffs?

The giant spiders having non-spider heads really does just make them creepier. Especially when their bodies get crushed. Spiders have a decentralized nervous system, so limbs can react independently even after the brain is destroyed. And the rabbit-head spider's ears can still move despite being dead.

Is there a name for the way Laios is carrying Cithis? The best comparison I found was the piggyback carry where the rider is supposed to wrap their arms around the carrier. But since she's unconscious, Laios is holding her arms criss-cross to secure her.

Don't ever think Laios is stupid. He had enough intuition to figure out what happened after Cithis hypnotized him.

I don't know why, but I feel like Lycion would get along great with Laios's party. If they didn't have opposing goals, he and Fleki would probably be best buds with the gang.

I keep forgetting that Lycion is a beastman. I jokingly said he was the Canary's Senshi (because of fanservice), but he's actually more like a reverse Izutsumi.

On that train of thought, I'm going to assign Mithrun as the anti-Senshi (Doesn't care about his health or well-being at all), Fleki as the anti-Chilchuck (She seems like a snarker who complains about everything), Pattadol as the anti-Marcille (both are really high-strung and by-the-books), and Cithis as the anti-Laios (She's just evil). I don't know where to fit Otta in this so I'm just going to call her the anti-Namari cause why not?

On a completely pointless note, we can say that Cithis and Pattadol are heavier than Otta because Izutsumi could carry Otta but Laios and Senshi had to carry Cithis and Pattadol.

This image is really disorienting.

The dungeon doesn't adhere to Euclidean space but this just lays bare how nonsense the layout was. In particular, we can see the entrance to the fourth level on the left center of the image. You have to exit out of the bottom of a tower with no other discernible entry points.

The secret town on the sixth floor is in the background and we can see the top layer of the dwarf city ruins under it.

Falin's body has been moved.

Several early chapters in the series brought up the ecologic balance of the dungeon. In particular, I remember Senshi explaining that the golems on the third floor serve as a deterrent to keep the stronger monsters from moving to higher levels.

With all the levels now on the same plane, we're seeing something like that scenario play out. The natural bottlenecks the old dungeon structure had are broken and flying monsters have immediately attempted to expand their territories.

Some monsters can't survive in the upper levels because the mana concentration is too thin. If monsters are managing to move across different environments, that could mean that the amount of mana in the air is increasing as well.

I can't tell if the reason Laios is worried is because Marcille's actions will get people killed or because she's doing a bad job building the dungeon.

Fleki got brain damage when her familiar was killed, but Marcille wasn't affected by her familiars' deaths. It's probably because Marcille's familiars were constructs while Fleki's aren't.

Marcille's familiars were more like drones she was piloting remotely. When the first two were killed by the hippogriff, she had a stressed look to her eyes so the sudden disconnection might be mentally taxing, but it doesn't actually affect her.

Fleki's familiars are conjured by her. She has at least two familiars: the raven familiar she uses in battle and white dove familiars she uses for scouting. I want to guess that the white doves are more similar to Marcille's familiars; they're drones that let Fleki scout in wide areas and likely won't harm her if they get attacked.

Her raven familiar is definitely an extension of her. I mentioned in chapter 74 that she has a tattoo of some sort on her chest. That might be what lets her summon her raven. And she's able to control how much her soul exists in the raven. In chapter 73, she was unconscious until the raven flew back into her. But in chapter 74, she was just remote piloting it.

I realized while talking about Fleki that she wears a hawker's glove.

And again, the Canaries refuse to actually work with non-elves. It might be beneficial to work with Laios, but Lycion told him to not get involved. And as soon as Laios said no, Lycion immediately escalated to violence. Laios doesn't even know why the situation is worse than it seems.

Initially, Laios was in shock when Lycion showed off his power but then he was enthralled.

Kabru does not have a weapon. And I'd say he hasn't had a weapon since returning to the surface. He probably thought he wouldn't need one since he was just going to try negotiating with the Shadow Lord. And then everything happened.

Kensuke was all confuzzled and curious because someone else was holding it.

It's probably a mix of urgency and only recently meeting Kabru, but Laios got over Kabru lying to him really quickly. It's probably happened plenty of times where he met someone, thought they hit it off and quickly learned that wasn't the case. Shuro hurt far more because they'd been together for years. Laios had only known Kabru for about a month, so he could just brush it off as another failed interaction.

Kabru is a manipulator, and Laios is the one person he's never been able to successfully manipulate. He took an interest in Laios because Laios's party had been the most successful at navigating the dungeon, and Kabru wanted to know what might happen if he were to conquer the dungeon.

But at some point, that interest turned into an obsession, especially since he could never ensnare Laios with any of his usual methods. Kabru's conspiracy board shows how all the other figures, adventurers, and organizations tie together; but the Touden siblings sit in the middle of that board because Kabru can't figure out how they connect to anything.

His only avenue to getting close to Laios was by eating monsters, which he hated and it drove him so crazy that Kabru started picturing Laios as a deranged madman who is a threat to mankind.

And with the charade revealed, Laios is figuratively and literally slipping out of Kabru's grip.

Apologizing for his deception gave Kabru one chance to plead with Laios, but he had no idea what to say because none of his manipulations and honeyed words will work. He tried to explain the situation but he knows deep down that Laios doesn't care about the world or the greater good. Nothing Kabru says about the situation will convince Laios to leave a friend behind.

So Kabru decided to be genuine.

Laios's obliviousness to how others feel about him works in two ways. Not only was he clueless to Shuro not wanting to be Laios's friend, he was clueless to Kabru wanting to be his friend. Shuro dealt with a lot of grief because Laios thought they were friends the whole time. And Kabru suffered a lot in his efforts to become Laios's friends.

And they both did the same thing when they reached their tipping point.

And then he airs out all his grievances about Laios's obliviousness.

CANNONBALL BREAKER!!!

It's been a serious chapter and the tension got broken up by Kui reminding us that Izutsumi and Lycion were fighting each other right off-screen during this entire heart-to-heart.

Kabru didn't manage to stop Laios, but he managed to get his point across. While Laios is determined to save Marcille, he will not side with the lion. And when this is over, he and Kabru will sit down and get to know each other.

They all forgot that Thistle's house was converted into a floating island.

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