#THE WAY MY HEART SUNK WHEN I REALIZED 20% IN THAT THERE WAS NO WAY THIS COULD BE A STANDALONE

[bananakeiky]

This isn't about Hoyo I just needed to vomit some AFTG thoughts into a public space and I just finished ToS and I'm rabid. I have no idea how many of y'all even read this series but spoilers. And trigger warnings. Anyways.

Okay what the fuck ever the thing about ToS isn't just about of the extra trigger warnings and things that made me wanna throw up and cry at the same time. It's about how horribly, tragically awful it is that Jean is full of so much love. He always has been. It's not just haha what a pansexual no. Jean craves affection so fucking much. He's weak to pretty people and devastated by kind people. He clung to Kevin. He clung to Renee. He even clung to Thea, who affectionately called him Paris as he trailed her like a little duckling. He spits and rages and claws at them all, calling them every rabid name in the dictionary and beyond. He has a laundry list of insults for Neil, who freed him, one of the only people he truly trusts. It's just that he never expects it back. He never wants it back because it hurts so much worse when it's gone. People hurt him when it's gone. He says "I can take it" and "this is normal" because he would burn if he couldn't.

This is why he rejects the Trojans. Every "don't you see" and "why do you look away" is well-meaning but twice as hurtful because accepting it would mean Jean didn't hurt because he deserved it. Without that crutch it means he suffered for nothing. He hurt for nothing. Accepting it would mean that Jean would have to open up and fully comprehend the absolute horrors that were done not just to his life but to his personhood. To him. He was a child and a victim and he deserved to be saved and he wasn't. Not until it was too late. All of those years after being sold by his parents, yearning, aching to be loved by somebody and used as a toy and a scapegoat in return by anyone who touched him. Love is painful. Trust is painful. And Jean will love and love and love until it kills him and he knows it.

But this is why Kevin sent him to the Trojans. They may not understand survival and suffering the way the Foxes do, but they're genuine. They may be misguided with some of their efforts and need to take time learning how Jean works but they try and try and keep trying. They understand their own faults and healthy coping mechanisms and how to treat your worst enemies with respect. Hell, nearly the entirety of Jeremy's inner circle are in queer relationships with each other except for himself because he's too busy thinking about other people to work on that. This is what Jean needs to learn, that people can give without asking for anything in return. That people can be selfless and care for one another without ulterior motives. That love can be healthy and beautiful and not cruel.

And listen. I've been rooting for Jerejean for eight goddamn years. You have no idea how hard I fell when I realized that the ship that embodies the entire idea of healing, self-growth, and respect had been actualized and it's everything I ever wanted and more. The fact that Jeremy helps Jean buy his very first possession. The fact that he's so protective of Jean and thinks he's more important than exy, that Jean will be his success story. When he holds his hands and begs him to open up and backs off when Jean needs space, but never leaves and never gives up. How he spends so much time organizing people and schedules and events just so Jean can feel safe walking around campus. He never pushes too hard, but he never stops pushing. He's so patient. He wants Jean. He wants him so bad, but more than that, he wants Jean to love himself above all else. He's there when Jean has a panic attack at the pool, and sticks around as close as he can after Jean gets attacked. He stays up by the door all night when Jean goes out with Neil to an unknown location. All of this on top of revitalizing the Trojans, dealing with his shit family and the shittier rumors, having to train Jean out of killing his team and teaching his team to trust Jean in return.

Even after all of that his number one priority is always Jean, his head is filled with Jean, making the world comfortable and safe for Jean. It's making sure all of his friends know Jean. Never letting Jean be alone. Getting another twin bed so he can room with him. Always correcting himself, slowing down and speeding up so he can match Jean's pace. Fucking Barkbark. And yes, Renee could have done this too. She was the right person, and yes, the wrong time. But Jeremy found Jean at the right time, a time where he would dedicate everything to Jean. And if Jean one day turns around and wants to give that back, he'll be there, but he'll be just as happy knowing Jean is going to be okay.

ToS is a story about healing. It's about growth and battling the consequences of a life you did not choose. It's about unfairness. It's about what happens after a tragedy, and how to cope with yourself as much as you cope with the outside world. It's about becoming. It's about demons. It's about loyalty. It's about love. It's not about romance. Not yet. But it's about a romance that couldn't exist without it. It's setting up a story about someone who learns to accept that, tragically, he deserves to be treated like a human being. With love. And that he can still have it. That it's right there, waiting for him, when he's ready. He just has to reach out and take it.

[azzibuckets]

This is sort of a long and specific request but I just have this idea of an ansty fic idea for pazzi or reader.

azzi gets her wisdom teeth out and she’s like all loopy and when paige takes her home, they are all cuddled up. Azzi talks about the love of her life in third person and paige doesn’t realize it’s her until she does… but basically she’s like heartbroken until then.

loopy in love [pazzi]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

a/n: i know i said i was taking a break from pazzi fics but god bless anon for giving me the best prompt i’ve ever read

word count: 1.5k

masterlist | part 2

“Make sure she takes acetaminophen or ibuprofen if she feels any pain,” the nurse instructed. “She can also sleep with an extra pillow tonight to support her neck and help circulate blood flow.”

“Alright, thank you. I’ll keep all that in mind,” Paige said gratefully. She looked over at Azzi, who was slumped in the chair. Her eyes were dazed and her cheeks swollen with numbing from anesthesia, but Paige’s heart warmed. Azzi had never looked cuter, she thought.

“I understand you guys are basketball players?” The nurse looked up from her clipboard of sheets with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah. How long is she out for?”

“No strenuous activities for at least three days, and definitely no cardio for five. We don’t want any rebound swelling or bleeding,” the nurse explained. “Other than that, you just need to sign her release form, and then you guys are good to go.”

Paige nodded, accepting the paper the nurse handed her and starting to work her way down the page. The nurse walked over to Azzi. “Make sure to keep biting on the gauze, okay hon? Your girlfriend can help you replace it with a fresh one every 20 minutes.”

Paige’s head snapped up from reading the fine print. “Oh, uh, we’re not dating.”

The nurse looked taken aback. “Oh! I’m so sorry! I just assumed…” she stared uncomfortably between the two of them. Paige flushed, knowing that the way they’d entered the office a few hours earlier hadn’t exactly looked very friendly. Paige’s hands had been wrapped around Azzi’s waist as she’d whispered reassurances in her ear.

“No, it’s okay.” Paige scratched the back of neck. “We kinda get that a lot.”

The nurse nodded awkwardly before hurriedly making an excuse to leave the room. Azzi wrinkled her nose, eyes following her out. “Did she think I had a girlfriend?” she slurred.

“She thought we were dating,” Paige breathed out a laugh as she signed the form.

“Ew!” Azzi gagged on her saliva. “I’m sorry, but we could never be together.”

“Geez,” Paige muttered, trying not to let the younger girl’s words sting too much. “I didn’t think I was that that revolting.” Paige turned the form into the receptionist before helping Azzi out of her chair. “Up we go,” she said softly. Azzi stumbled, but tightened her grip on the blonde’s arm to keep steady.

In the car, Azzi stared moodily out the window. Paige chuckled; she’d expected for the anesthesia to make Azzi more quiet and subdued, even though a part of her had wanted a loopy and crazy Azzi to laugh at. “You okay?” she asked.

Azzi started sniffling, and that’s when big tears started rolling down her cheeks.

“Woah.” Paige almost braked the car. “Hey, Az, what’s up?”

“I miss her!” Azzi cried out, folding her arms like a grumpy toddler. “Everything hurts and I can’t feel my tongue and there’s blood and I just want her.”

Paige’s heart sunk. She knew she should be supporting Azzi right now, who was so out of it from the drugs, but she couldn’t help but welcome back the burn of jealousy she’d gotten so familiar with the past few years. Pining over your best friend in secret was not an easy thing, but it was something Paige had become awfully good at.

“Miss who, babe?” Paige asked gently. “I can call whoever you need.”

Azzi dramatically threw her head in her hands. “Nooooo!” she wailed. “You can’t. Or else she’ll know.”

Paige bit her lip. “Know what?”

“That I’m in love with her!”

Paige sucked in a breath. Lately Azzi had been acting distant, coming back to their apartment late at night and making excuses for missing their movie nights. Paige had had a creeping suspicion that Azzi was talking to someone new, had been spending her hours with a new girl or guy she’d met. She’d tried to respect it - she knew Azzi would come to her and tell her if the relationship ever evolved into something serious. She always did. And now here Azzi was, confessing in her stupefied state.

“You’re in love with someone?”

Azzi leaned her head gloomily against the window. “You don’t understand, Paige.”

Paige hesitated. “I understand. I’ve been in love before.”

“No,” Azzi insisted. “You don’t. You don’t understand.”

Paige laid her hand over Azzi’s in an attempt to pacify her. “It’s okay, Az,” she soothed. “We don’t have to talk about this right now. Let’s just get you home first, yeah?”

Azzi snatched her hand away. “Of course you don’t wanna talk about it,” she grumbled, shifting in her seat to move further from Paige.

Once they reached their apartment, Azzi seemed to be in a slightly better mood. “I’m hungry!” she exclaimed as soon as the door closed behind them, immediately making a beeline for the kitchen.

“Uh uh,” Paige denied, running so she could stand between Azzi and the cabinets. “You’re not allowed to eat anything for a few hours.”

Azzi pouted, her bottom lip sticking out. “Pleaseeeeeee?” she whined.

Paige stifled a laugh at how adorable the younger girl was being. “I’m sorry, but no,” she said firmly.

“Ugh!” Azzi aggressively brushed past Paige, knocking her shoulder as she stormed out of the kitchen. “You hate me.”

“Quite the opposite.” Paige followed Azzi as she flopped angrily down on the armchair. “Stay here, alright? Imma go get some pillows and blankets for you and we can watch a movie?”

Azzi didn’t respond, staring grumpily at the dark TV. Paige rushed to gather the softest and biggest blankets she could find. She cursed at herself for not setting up the couch earlier. Now Azzi had to sit there waiting for her. Once she got everything, she threw it on the couch and tried to make it the most comfortable, padded blanket and pillow ridden couch in the history of all couches. “Come on Azzi,” she encouraged in a sing song voice. “Sit on the couch. It’s super comfy.” She patted the couch.

“Will she be there?” Azzi asked hopefully.

“Be where?” Paige’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“On the couch. With me.”

The blonde rolled her eyes, trying to hold in her exasperation but failing mightily. “Are you talking about that girl again?”

“Yes,” Azzi breathed out dreamily. “I think she’s it. She’s the one for me. I can’t stop thinking about her. Even before the surgery she was the last thing on my mind.”

Azzi sounded way too detailed right now to be talking randomly from being hopped up on drugs, which finally confirmed Paige’s suspicions. There had to be an actual girl that Azzi was talking about. She made a note to ask about it later, when the anesthesia wore off. Azzi had never spoken about anyone like this before, so this girl must be a big deal. A hot shot, Paige thought moodily to herself. But she’d support Azzi, like she always did whenever she started something new with someone. Don’t let her know, Paige reminded herself.

“So? Did you call her?” When Paige didn’t respond, too lost in her thoughts, Azzi’s bottom lip started to tremble. “You said you would!” Paige rushed to her, rubbing her back in the way she knew the dark haired girl liked.

“I don’t have her number, Az,” she said gently. “I’m sure we can get her to come over later, though.”

“She’s so pretty and she’s so kind,” Azzi said, now sobbing again. “I just want her here. Everything is always better when I’m with her.” She leaned into Paige’s embrace.

“Come on, Az, let’s sit on the couch, alright? Let’s put on a movie and you can try to sleep the anesthesia off,” Paige prodded. At last, Azzi got up from the armchair and sat reluctantly on the couch. Paige grabbed a blanket and wrapped it tightly around the younger girl. She made sure to stuff extra pillows under Azzi’s neck. “Comfy?”

Azzi nodded. Her tears weren’t flowing as heavily anymore, which Paige took as a good sign. “What do you wanna watch?”

Azzi perked up. “Cinderella.”

“Cinderella? When did you get into Disney?” Paige laughed, but she put it on.

Azzi nestled into Paige’s chest. “Cinderella looks like her,” she sighed happily. “Which is why I like it.”

Paige’s heart started beating rapidly. “What does she look like?” she asked slowly.

“She’s blonde. Has the bluest eyes ever,” Azzi murmured. “And she’s sooo good at basketball. You would love her.”

Paige bit the inside of her cheek. Was this really happening? There was no way this girl Azzi was speaking of was her. She felt excitement rush through her, but she tried to tamp it down. She wasn’t the only blonde, blue-eyed basketball player in the world. Feeling slightly guilty that she was interrogating her best friend in this state, she asked, “What’s her name, Azzi?”

Azzi inserted her leg between Paige’s so that their bodies were now intertwined. “Why does it matter?” she muttered, her words muffled by Paige’s shirt.

Paige softly traced the parts in Azzi’s hair with her finger. “I’m just curious, babe.”

Azzi yawned, sleepiness taking over her. “I can tell you later. If you want. Maybe.”

“Oh, we are so talking about this later,” Paige said under her breath. But for now, she continued playing with Azzi’s hair as Cinderella played in the background, lulling the girl to sleep.

[grayson1996]

Just a little ficlet I thought up! ***

“I miss my mom.”

The admission was quiet, but Dick saw Jason’s head snap up from his phone, gaze indiscernible as he surveyed Dick. Probably trying to figure out what brought the confession on.

“Ok.” Jason said it like a statement, but Dick could hear the question in it.

“I miss how warm her body felt when she hugged me. I miss being able to bury my head into her stomach and breathe her in…. I miss breathing her in. I miss having a mom and knowing what it’s like to be loved by someone unconditionally. I miss growing and having her there to notice.” Dick got quiet a moment, a little unsure if he should continue sharing, but he felt the need to anyway. “Sometimes I miss being the youngest. My cousin was a few years older than me, all my friends at the circus were. Hell, even the Titans were. I miss being the one cared for. You know?”

Dick saw Jason set down his phone and turn to face Dick head on. After a moment Dick turned as well and matched his brother’s gaze. The confusion that was there making way to understanding.

“Yeah. I know what you mean.”

Dick felt himself relax slightly at the reassurance, closing his eyes he sunk deeper into his living room couch that the two were currently occupying.

“I miss wearing clothes that weren’t replaced as soon as they got holes. And I miss dishes made with cumin and cinnamon. And I miss my dad. God, I miss him so much. He was so calm Jay, he always smiled, he always knew that things were going to be ok, you know? He sang all the time, and no one sings here.” Dick felt his throat close at the realization, not even realizing all this was weighing on his heart until he let himself feel it. “No one sings here, and sometimes I forget about all them. It’s like my life is on auto-pilot and I just don’t think about it. But then I remember and it’s like my body is ripping itself open from the grief and I can’t... I can’t- just”.

Jason shifted in his seat, pulling Dick toward him as he started to get worked up. Breathes coming out quicker than intended. Dick let himself be manhandled into an awkward sideways hug. Unsure of where all this was coming from. For a moment it was quiet as Jason held him until his younger brother let out a heavy breath.

“Sometimes I miss my old apartment. Stupid, you know? The place was filled with water damage and mold and my Ma and I shared a shitty lumpy 20 year old mattress that should have been torched years ago…. But it still was mine, and now it’s gone.” Dick felt Jason shrug, arms still wrapped around him.  “I think what people forget is, that to be human is to find the good memories in bad. It’s how we go on. That’s why everyone says grief is a gift, it means you loved someone so much that you get to miss them.”

“That’s stupid.” Dick muttered defiantly, grinning slightly when Jason laughed. “Grief isn’t a gift, it’s the cost of getting to love.”

“Careful Dickie, your dangerously close to sounding cynical and that’s my shtick.”

“I didn’t say it was a cost I was unwilling to pay.” Dick pulled himself back, leaning onto the side of the couch to face Jason once more. “I just wish I had more time to save up before I had to cash in.”

 Jason nodded, leaning back himself, though still watching Dick with a careful eye.

“You don’t talk about this often.” Another statement, one Dick knew to be true. He never talked about his parents, not since his current family started to grow.

“Bruce never talked about his parents, for awhile I think I thought grief was locking away memories until they faded into existence. When I realized that wasn’t the case you guys were here and I didn’t want to bring them up in case you felt like… I don’t know… I didn’t love the family I had now?”

Jason stared at him dumbly for a moment.

“That’s the stupidest fucking thing you’ve ever said Goldie and that’s including the time you tried to convince Wally, B was a vampire.” Dick snorted at the memory, which Jason smiled at. “Remembering what you lost doesn’t negate what you have, and the adage that time heals all wounds is misconstruing. It doesn’t mean the injury stops hurting, hell your fucked up knee acts up every time it so much as showers. Just because something isn’t actively gushing blood doesn’t mean its fine, doesn’t mean you don’t still need to take care of it.”

Dick let out a heavy breath, he had forgotten how intuitive Jason could be.

“Yeah. You’re right.”

“Course I’m right, I’m the only one of you fuckers who consistently reads books without pictures in it.”

Dick pushed him roughly but without any heat, dodging the pillow Jason tried to lob at his face in retaliation. For a moment the two tussled, feeling younger than they had in a while. Only stopping when a wayward elbow sent Dick’s lamp thudding to the floor. Slightly out of breath Dick nudged Jason with his foot, the joviality making way for genuineness.

“Thank you. For letting me talk about them.”

Jason gave him a small smile, one without the useful veneer of snark.

“Anytime.”

[piratesfromspace]

The Escape (Joel/Reader)

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader Rated: Explicit Word count: 2.9k Summary: You've been captured by slavers and thrown into the same cell as Joel. Note: I've been through a severe lack of energy and inspiration, but here is my take on Joel, featuring some sweet smut of course! This happens roughly 10 years after the Outbreak, so Joel would be in his 40s and Reader is in her 20s. Content: hurt/comfort, smut, almost-virginity loss, p-i-v, praise kink, alcohol, overall canon typical violence

MASTERLIST

When you’re thrown into his cell - an old bathroom, all broken tiles and rusted pipes - Joel gets tense, hand clenching harder on the shiv he improvised a couple days ago. He has no idea what the slavers are plotting. He’s been held in here for maybe one week now, hard to tell when the days are blending into each other, long boring hours only punctuated by a bottle of water and some food left on the floor without a word.

He knows his worth is in his strength and the slavers have no interest in letting him starve to death - that’s the only positive thing in his whole ordeal. He can’t believe he’s been stupid enough to let himself be captured. But he had reacted one second too late, and there were too many, and here he is, waiting to be sold to the highest bidder. 

You land hard on your knees, unable to stop your pathetic fall on the hard floor, as the door of the cell is closed shut once again. He watches, ready to strike, as you scramble to get back in a sitting position - and then you finally notice him, standing tall in one of the corners, the glint of something undoubtedly lethal in the hand he’s hiding behind him. You try to get up on your feet, but your muddy boots are sliding on the tiles, your legs shaking with the effort - you’re clearly exhausted. Your hands are bound behind your back, leaving you with very little option. You push yourself back until the wall hits your shoulders, until you have nowhere else to go. 

Joel is assessing your form very calmly, a stark contrast with the frantic terror pinching your brows. You look young, younger than him for sure, body lean from years of privation (like everyone else now), and he’s sure you could be mistaken for a teenager from afar - maybe you were when the Outbreak happened 10 years ago, but he can see the way your eyes are sunk, the fine skin under them puffy from a decade-worth of bad sleep and dirty conscience. Nah, you may be a child of the Apocalypse, but you’re definitely old enough to realize you’re in a shitty situation. Something like pity tugs at his heart - or more like recognition, the fire in your gaze despite the fear washing over your features, the will to push through the tiredness, the need to fight until the very end, even cornered and tied up. A mirror handed to him of what he was like at your age.

Maybe you can be useful, you can help him escape, surely you know a trick or two, or you wouldn’t have been able to survive this long - he tries to convince himself that’s the reason why he helps you. Why he walks up to you, crouches in front of your scared face and orders you to turn around. He has to repeat himself because you don’t want to listen but he does his best to not sound as harsh as usual, and finally, you understand and offer him your bound hands. He tugs on the dirty scrap of fabric, unties the knot with skillful fingers. He takes hold of your wrists before you can even move your arms, and for a second you feel the icy stab of panic and treason in your throat. Since when do you trust strangers? 

“Easy there…” his warm voice rumbles in your back “Guess you’ve been like this for more than an hour, ‘gonna hurt if you move too fast.” he explains, while bringing slowly your hands in front of you. He’s right, you hiss a pained fuck when your shoulders protest at the change in position. He’s freaking close, his chest almost flush to your back, the rough skin of his palms still on your wrists. He suddenly lets go of you, gets up on his feet, and you turn on your knees to face him. He looks older than you, his temples already turning to gray. There is a gravity in his expression, like he stopped smiling 10 years ago and never did it again since - but still you catch a distant warmth in his soft brown eyes, behind his steely demeanor. His whole persona is a mix of hard and soft, exposed forearms showing off the chords of his muscles under a skin littered with scars, contrasting with the mundane patchy beard and the soft curls on his nape. He’s kinda handsome in his own way, even though he looks like someone who can do ugly things.

—

That’s the beginning of your cooperation. You had helped him, baiting the guard in pretending to be sick, and then he had used the makeshift knife to slit his throat, without so much as a second of hesitation. You remember the bright red blood spilling on the dirty tiles, staining the dried grout vermilion. It had been a while since you had seen a healthy human get killed up close. You had stood there, bile at the back of your tongue, ringing in your ears, until the firm command - move, come on - had made you join him. He had slashed his way out with too much ease, and had made you run for so long, you got sick the minute you finally stopped inside an abandoned house. You spat all the bile that had been bubbling in your guts, folded over the moldy kitchen sink. You had expected him to get disgusted and just leave you there to a very certain death, but he just took out a bottle of water from the backpack he stole during your escape and wordlessly handed it to you. He did not have to do that, he could have kept the precious resource for himself. You still wonder why - it wasn’t out of selflessness, definitely not out of kindness. You guessed he needed someone to stay awake and keep watch so he could sleep a little. Useful - you were useful. 

He brings you back to the QZ because that’s where you’ll be safe - safer at least. Shielded from the slavers and the raiders and the biters. Definitely not from the corrupt FEDRA guards, the local traffickers, the ruthless fireflies - and really, any individual ready to take advantage showing how thin the veneer of civilization truly was in the first place.

You stay in his small apartment because you have nowhere else to go. Even after you start working and earning your part. At first, he slept on the couch so you could have the bed. But one day, after a gruesome double-shift, he comes back home so exhausted he just crashes on the mattress without realizing you’re already there. It’s not the first time you sleep next to him. You had to during the trek back to the QZ. Only way to keep warm. It was utilitarian, nothing else. Still, it meant you trusted him enough to close your eyes in his presence. You still do. 

When you wake up the next morning, you feel him pressed against your back. Either him or you had sought the other’s warmth during the night. You have to admit you slept pretty well. You’re usually freezing and he’s just… warm. A solid wall radiating heat behind you. His slow breathing is keeping at bay the usual rush of anxiety you get when you wake up every day to discover this too long nightmare is indeed reality. You guess you had to have a similar effect on him because dawn is already lighting the room with its dull glow and he’s not awake yet. 

That’s the beginning of another level of your relationship - you don’t want to give a name to whatever strange alliance is going on between you. Still, night after night, he keeps going back, and you let him, welcome him silently in your bed (actually it’s his). You should be scared, he’s but a man, and if he was any other man, you would know that he’d been expecting something from you. Expecting you to offer your naked skin and your warm body in exchange for his protection. But it never comes. Joel seems very content in being able to lay there on his mattress and share his warmth with you. You can even see how he glares darkly at that FEDRA guard who keeps talking to you for any reason possible. How he makes sure you’re home as soon as the sun sets. 

And then, one day, you’re on his sofa sharing some whisky - the nice one, the real one, a 20-year old bottle he traded - and it says a lot he’s even sharing it with you in the first place. Joel is in a good mood, he cracks a couple awful dad jokes, and you laugh, so hard tears leak on your cheeks. He doesn’t think, just swipes them with his thumb, calloused pad of his finger on the sensitive skin just under your lashes. He lingers there, looks at you with hooded eyes and you know you’re royally fucked. He looks so good, the warm light of sunset on his tanned skin, his hair mussed, making him look a bit younger. It makes you forget he’s almost two decades older - but what does that even mean today? Life - death - is no longer this linear thing, and there is no one left to scold you about your partner’s choice. Nobody cares anymore. Yet he cared for you. So you decide to indulge in this desire that has been brewing in your chest since the moment he untied you in that damned icy cell. 

He’s kind of a jerk with it, lets you do all the work. Maybe he’s just too scared you would feel forced to accept what he wants to offer. But you soldier on, you kiss him with all the fervor of your youth, climb on his lap, and keep licking his tongue until he finally dares to take charge. Joel tastes like the bourbon discarded on the floor - sweet and rich, smoked spice and the desperate furor of someone whose will to live only surpasses his devastating grief by a short inch. 

You sigh in his mouth, the relief provided by his touch welcome but not enough to quench the pent-up thirst you’ve been harboring for years now. He must feel it because when your slightly shaking fingers are hastily working the buttons of his shirt open, then diving straight to the fly of his jeans, he stops you.

“Wait”, he rasps, a hint of worry mixed in the molasses of his voice, “please tell me you have done this before”.  

“Yeah -yes, yes… just -it’s been a long time. Like, not since the ‘break…”

“Fuck.” he answers, head lolling backward against the sofa, and you’re sure you screwed up. No way he’s gonna want to do it with an almost virgin. For your defense, after a few experiments with your then-boyfriend from before the apocalypse, your possibilities were quite limited. You focused more on staying alive than romance. More on avoiding men than courting them. Years went by and no one came who you could trust enough. Until him. 

“Please, Joel” you kiss his cheek, his neck. “I want to feel good just for a bit”, you beg him, because the thought of him leaving you like this makes you wanna die of shame. 

You feel more than you hear him growl, the rumble of his chest making you shiver against him. He grounds his hands on your waist, presses the rough pads of his fingers into your supple and warm flesh. 

“Remove your clothes”, he finally commands. Your jeans and sweater are thrown on the ground without second thought. You’re naked while he just pushed his pants low enough to free his already leaking cock. 

“Joel…” your gasp dies in your throat when he crashes his mouth on yours again. He’s… big. You haven’t seen a lot of cocks in your life, but you’re pretty sure he definitely has bragging rights. He feels burning hot and surprisingly soft in your palm, pulsing in time with the frantic beating of your heart. 

He’s not especially careful when he parts your folds, long fingers pressing against your clit in a couple of crude circles before pushing inside you. The intrusion is nothing like you remember. It burns in an addictive way, and when he crooks his index toward your belly, and presses his thumb on your clit, you let out a whimper that makes him groan in response. His other hand has threaded itself in your hair, and he uses it to hold your head steady. 

“Eyes on me sweetheart” he urges. His lips are parted, the glint of his canines echoing the predatory gaze he’s pining you with. It’s been barely a minute and you’re already panting, feeling your orgasm build up at an impressive pace. You muffle your cries against your palm, unwilling for anyone on the other side of those cardboard thin walls to hear you.

“Come on, don't get shy now.” he rasps, voice thick in his throat. “Wanna hear you when I make you come”. Reluctantly, you remove your hand, finding purchase on his shoulders where you sink your short nails, trying to contain the molten wave of pleasure washing over you. The orgasm is brutal, your whole body seizing as Joel keeps on grounding his thumb cruelly hard on your clit, the fist on your hair tightening even more as he praises you throughout. It hurts so good you don’t remember sex could even be like this. 

You’re barely down from your high that Joel manhandles your pliant body until you’re under him on the couch. He’s still clothed, his jeans scratchy against your bare legs. His fingers follow an ugly scar on your flank - you got this one pretty early after the end of the world, it’s still itchy sometimes, you don’t really want to talk about it - and you hear him mumble how pretty you are, more for himself than for you. “Joel” you plead again and he snaps out of his haze, voracious glint back in his eyes. 

“I’m here, I’m here” he repeats, guiding his cock against your wet slit. He stops just a second to ask if you still want this, and you beg his name again. Finally, he pushes inside you, fills you in one slow motion. You can’t stop the litany of fuck escaping your mouth. It feels like he’s splitting you in two, molding your flesh to him. The stretch is a lot, makes your brain short-circuit. “Breathe” he instructs, his fingers - still wet from your desire - finds your cheek in a soothing gesture. “Stay with me”, he adds, voice low against the dainty shell of your ear. 

Joel fucks you slow, way more gentle than when he had his fingers buried in your cunt a few minutes before. He pushes your knees apart, hikes your legs high on his waist, almost folding you in half. It still hurts a little, but the pressure feels good, even better when one of his hands finds your clit again. Your soft moans fill the air between you, warm with whiskey and need. One particularly powerful snap of his hips and his cock touches something bright inside of you, awakening feelings you had even forgotten about. He keeps rubbing the delicate and swollen flesh just above there you’re joined, and you already know your second orgasm is not far. 

You seek his mouth, demanding for him to kiss you, as you bury your hand in his soft curls, where early swirls of gray ring the end of his youth. A sudden burst of need and yearning and almost sadness shots through you. It’s not only about being intimate with someone after all those years. It’s the emotion of trusting another human enough to bare your body, to let them come close, to show vulnerability - not in the form of the pain and the gruesome you’re both accustomed to - no, the real vulnerability that lies in the will to share something good, something mundane and beautiful, sinful and sacred. The illusion that everything will be alright, that, in the next seconds, you both have nothing else to care about than your common pleasure, than the warmth of the other’s skin, than this silly and dangerous thrill you’re willing to offer. You’re opening your legs as much as your heart, and you know it’s going to wreck you in the most stunning way. 

You come with a whisper of his name against his lips, like a secret prayer, an oath that in this instant he is all you believe in. He follows you in your bliss just after, considerate enough to pull out and cum on your belly. You forgot how messy all this can be. But the sight of his cum on your skin is also a bleak reminder of reality - you better not get pregnant now. He must sense your distress because he cups your cheeks gently, kisses you again. 

“Stay with me” he says, echoing his words from a few minutes earlier, when you were stuffed full with him. Except this time, you think you understand what he means - what he truly means. 

You think you feel him smile in the kiss.

[heartthrobin]

making merry, oh my little fairy (2)

sam winchester x fairy!reader

wc: 5.3k

warnings: soulmate!au (partners share scars), fem!reader, implied age gap (reader is early 20's), hella pining, tooth-rotting fluff, destiel is canon, town being mean to reader, some shaky police jargon, references to thick reader (everyone cheered) but can be ignored, dean being dean, canon-typical warnings (child kidnapping, violence ect.)

an: part 2 of my little fairy series! it's been sitting in my drafts for weeks and part 1 was pretty unpopular so i've been hesitant to post it but then i realized i write for myself and not for recognition! so enjoyyyyy. remember to comment and repost to support your favourite writers :)

summary: you flew around Sam's mind with your pretty little wings all night and all day, it doesn't help that you're popping up around every corner of this case. he's trying not to think about it.

part one part three part four

They'd sat in the car parked out front maybe longer than they should have. Sam noticed you peak through the curtain at the twenty minute mark, he only noticed because he could feel your curious gaze.

It disturbed him enough to allow Dean to fly down the neighbourhood road noisily at too many miles an hour.

Naturally, sleep became a stranger.

Dean was long passed out on the questionably lumpy motel bed and Sam was still at the desk. The white light off his laptop made his eyes itch.

A dryad is a tree nymph, commonly inhabiting oak trees, and generally born into the form of beautiful women. Many dryads were considered to be originally human or children of the nature Gods and it is widely believed that they take on the physical characteristics of the trees they protect.

Your eyes returned to him again, if not for the hundredth time that day. The way the greenery reflected off of them at him. The strength of your legs, how they were wide and grounding like the tree that engulfed your house. Your movements, your walk, how you floated like how the leaves shivered in the forest beyond your garden walls.

Sam had given considerable thought to his soulmate, as most people did.

He was turning thirty-one in a few months time and it had occurred to him that maybe you were on the other side of the world. Maybe you were dead. But people had warned him that he'd know if that were true. He'd feel it, like a gaping wound in his soul.

Castiel had appeared to Dean in a flash of light. In a heroic swoop of love, and Sam thought maybe that could happen to him too.

His thumb was warm where it ran over the scar down his arm.

He wondered if you thought the same.

If you dreamed of his arrival the way he'd dreamed of yours.

It was a silly thing, to dream of meeting your true love. Far too trivial in the life of someone like Sam Winchester when the fate of the world, of good versus evil and heaven versus hell was always in the palm of his hand.

But your figure was burned into his corneas like a blinding torch.

It scared him. Not an easy feat for the man who'd seen it all.

Sam had asked Dean a few years back.

Can someone live without their soulmate?

Dean had shrugged. "Sure, plenty of people do."

Sam had sunk back another sip of his beer at the time, they were somewhere in Florida.

"What if they'd already met them? Can they decide that they don't want to be with them?"

Dean chuckled at that. "I doubt that works out very often."

It was already long after Dean had met Castiel. Long after he'd survived his "my soulmate is an angel and a man what the fuck--" stage.

"What makes you say that? I'm sure some people have a strong enough willpower."

Dean had answered him by referencing some movie, one that Sam knew he loved and it took a bit of pestering for Dean to admit he knew the quote by heart.

He'd blushed nearly red and shrugged, accompanying it by another long slug of his beer.

"It's like at the end of the movie--" When Harry Met Sally, specifically, "When they're at that New Years party and Billy Crystal goes up to Meg Ryan and gives that whole speech, and he says that line."

Sam was grinning by then. "What line?"

Like he hadn't seen the movie enough times to know.

"You know, he when says ... when you realise you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible."

Sam had long made peace with the fact that even if you did ever come around, that it would be better to leave you be. To leave you in the safety of a life different to his own.

At least he had.

In the slim hours since leaving your doorstep he'd found himself choking over the thought of never seeing you again. Of his eyes never laying again on your face that gazed so happily up into his own, like you felt his warmth in a cold winter.

He was plagued, possessed, by the thought of never knowing more.

Never knowing the way you liked your tea, how you looked first thing in the morning, or worse, how your lips would feel slow and warm against his own.

He wanted to know your favourite song, and your worst fear. He wanted to know where you came from, how you found Fernglade, Washington. What's your favourite book, do you like to read? Would you like it if he read to you instead? Maybe you would, you'd be tucked against his side in bed and he'd tell you about his favourites. His favourite movies and the way he drinks his coffee and the shampoo he used. Maybe you'd play with his hair, braiding little flowers into the ends--

Sam groaned. His face fell into his hands.

This wasn't supposed to be happening. Not now.

But he supposed there would never be an adequate time for your arrival.

And god, you weren't even human.

Cross species soulmates weren't impossible - improbable, sure (about as much as being hit by lightening) - but not impossible.

It was only Sam's luck, the Winchester's luck, that they'd both been struck.

Castiel was an angel, but the concept seemed to fade off Dean quickly at the time.

Dean himself had been little help on the matter during the blurry drive back to the motel. "Hey. I mean, all things considered, fairy sex must be crazy."

Sam closed the tab on Dryads: A Modern Day Delve into Greek Mythology. Another page blinked up at him.

When the sun was still setting and Dean was still seated across from him, he had managed to do some work.

It distracted him, barely, but he managed to somewhat narrow the list of potential suspects.

The filters helped. Creatures that steal children. Creatures that live in the woods.

In all the webpages and in some text from John's journal he'd found a common thread. A thinly veiled one, but a lead regardless.

Goblins are generally found living in communities in burrows of forests across Western America. They are known to be mischievous and malignant spirits which often feed on small animals or easy prey and hunt during the warmer months before hibernating in Winter.

Children are easy prey, Sam thought.

Some subspecies were believed to be able to shift into the form of naughty children and sneak into nearby villages to prey on young humans.

It was the last thing his eyes ran over before he slipped the laptop shut. He crawled to the bed, wishing more than anything that his mind would cut him a break, before sliding under the sheets: seeking respite from the crisp autumn Washington

-

"Rise and shine, Sammy."

The hangers reeled noisily against the rod where Dean had ripped open the curtains and the stark light brought Sam to gasping consciousness.

Sam pulled the pillow up over his face, grumbling into it.

He made out the sound of Dean setting a coffee mug on the side table.

"What time did you get to sleep?"

Answered by another indiscernible whine, Dean sunk into the chair at the tiny table in the room. "Fine, fine ... but did you find anything helpful? Besides fairy porn probably."

It earned him a well-aimed smack in the face with a pillow.

Dean laughed jovially, "Okay, okay."

Sam rose up into a sitting position with a moan. He ran a hand over his face, the other grappling for the already cooling coffee mug on the table.

"Goblins." He muttered around the rim.

Dean paused his own sip, face falling into incredulity.

"Did you just say "goblins"?"

Sam nodded. He didn't elaborate.

"Listen, I know it's a conversation you probably don't wanna have ... but are you sure we're ruling out your little garden fairy from this equation? I mean, it really doesn't look good for her--"

"You're right. I don't want to have this conversation."

Dean shrugged. He fiddled with the coffee mug against his hand.

"It's not her." Sam added quietly.

Nodding slowly, Dean watched his brother with tentative eyes. "Have you thought about that? What you're gonna do?"

Sam rose from the bed, stripping off his shirt. "I don't know man. I don't even think she knows."

It had been a thought that occurred to him at some point in the previous night, that you didn't know. That it was probably selfish to keep it to himself.

"Right, well anyway," Dean reached into the tupperware you'd gifted them the previous afternoon. He'd already cleared out his own and was starting on a pastry from Sam's box. "I was thinking we should go speak to the third vic's mom. Kelly Williams. We haven't spoken to them yet and maybe they can tell us more."

Sam nodded. "Sure. You got an address?"

"No, but she's working a stall at..." Dean picked up a leaflet from the table that Sam assumed he'd found on his coffee run before he was up, "The Fernglade Sunday Market. We can find her there."

"Fine."

He disappeared into the bathroom, Dean heard the shower turn on.

"And you can tell me about this goblins story on the way there!" He called after him.

The door slammed shut.

-

"So you think goblins are coming into town and stealing kids out their back yards?"

The morning was warm and the market made it more so. It was out on a farm a couple roads down from the boys' motel.

There were little set-up stalls as far as he could see over lush green grass, selling cakes and jewellery and home-made soaps. Couples strolled hand-in-hand and children chased their parent's ankles.

Sam shrugged. "I mean yeah, it makes sense. Dad mentioned about the trees, Y/n mentioned about the forest too."

Dean nodded, his eyes rolling over the scenery. "Sure, but goblins? I've never heard of that anywhere, I mean, how do you even kill it?"

"Them." Sam corrected. "They live in groups."

Dean sighed. "Well that's gonna be fun."

Somewhere down the row, a man was singing behind a set up microphone with a guitar in his lap. A small crowd had formed to watch him.

Sam's stomach had begun churning with that feeling that made his organs feel like jelly again. He shrugged against the collar of his shirt.

"Right, well, there's Kelly Williams' stall." Dean glanced again down at the pamphlet, "Rings and Things ... how creative--"

But Sam's eyes had found on another stall. One further down from Kelly Williams', a little set-up of vases and stain glass sculptures. Rather ... they found the woman standing in front of it.

Of course it was you.

Standing against the breeze in another, unsurprisingly, light green dress. It was ruffled and shimmering and glittery and short. It made Sam's airways tighten to a shut.

You seemed intent on avoiding wearing anything that draped any further than just over the curve of your ass, and Sam prayed to anyone listening that it would stay that way.

"Sammy?"

Dean's face shrunk in confusion, he followed his brother's line of sight. He began to laugh, clearly finding you, and jostled Sam with a hand on his shoulder. "Well, isn't this just your luck."

Sam was sucking in deep breaths again. Dean shoved him in the side.

"Go talk to her, I'll speak to Mrs Williams."

Jumping back into semi-consciousness, Sam shook his head, "No, no, it's fine. We'll go--"

"Stop being a baby, Sam." Dean shrugged him off. "You're gonna have to talk to her eventually. And I hope you do a better job than you did yesterday, because that was a train-wreck."

"Thanks."

But Dean's figure was already retreating.

"Asshole." Sam muttered under his breath.

Eyes found you again, they strained against the sunlight. He could make out your face from where he stood: it was twisting, falling into a creased brow that Sam didn't like the look of.

His legs began moving before he had chance to instruct them and it only took a couple paces of his long structure to find your side, heart thumping violently in his ears.

Your eyes lifted from the table, there was an elderly lady sitting in the shade of the cover and looking unimpressed.

"Sam." You smiled up at him and he swore in that second he could listen to you saying his name forever on repeat and never grow bored. "What a pleasant surprise."

"Hey." He sighed, it was louder than he anticipated and he could feel his cheeks growing warmer. "W-What are you doing here?"

You stuttered, "Well, I was just looking at this cute little crocodile--"

His eyes found where your hand was motioning over the woman's table. He was unsurprised to find it littered with stained-glass sculptures of animals. Lions and fish and elephants among others.

But the woman interrupted before you could find the end of your sentence.

"I don't sell to kidnappers."

Her elderly face was curled up in disgust. Sam was taken aback by her directness.

He was more taken aback by your polite smile at her.

"That's fine. I'll be on my way." You nodded kindly, looking back up to Sam. "Wanna take a walk?"

Sam's bones had begun aching with fury in the small seconds since he'd arrived. His brow-bone was heavy set against his eyes.

He glanced over at the crocodile you'd referenced. It was about the size of a shoebox, glassy in bottle green tones and grinning a mouthful of sharp teeth up at him. He could already see it sitting happily on a spot between your books and photo frames, maybe up on the mantle above your fireplace.

Brushing softly against your elbow with his hand, a movement that sent a stone cold shiver up his whole body, he shook his head. "Just one sec--"

He turned to the woman, sticking his finger in the direction of the lifeless creature.

"I'd like to buy that crocodile please."

"Oh, Sam, you don't have to--"

But the woman was unmoved, "No. I'm not selling anything to anyone associated with her."

She stuck a shaking finger in your direction and Sam suddenly wanted to rip the stall to pieces.

"We should just go..." Your voice was small and he fought hard against pulling your frame into his side.

Instead, he reached into his jacket pocket for his FBI identification: flipping it out into the daylight for the woman to see. Her eyes widened behind thinly framed spectacles.

"I said I'd like to buy that crocodile." His voice was stern, heavy laden with his trembling aggravation. "How much is it?"

The woman's face flickered between emotions, before settling on vexation. "Forty dollars." She mumbled.

"I'm sorry?"

"Forty dollars." She replied more clearly, face turning red in embarrassment.

Sam slipped away his badge and dug for his wallet in his pocket, he flipped between the notes and handed her two twenty dollar bills. The woman was quiet while she wrapped the creature, avoiding your and Sam's eyes in the process.

She handed it over with a scathing, "Get away from my stall."

"With pleasure." He turned to you, your face was a cherry red shade. "I'll take you up on that walk."

You stepped away, offering a small sheepish "thanks" to the woman scowling at your and Sam's retreating figures.

"Here." He handed you the crocodile gently, and you took it with tentative hands. "Get a lot of that?"

But you shrugged off his question, grabbing for your purse. "You really didn't need to do this, Sam. Let me just pay you--"

Sam stopped, taking your forearm into his hand - the tingle it sent up his body again didn't go amiss - and he huffed. "Please, please. Don't. It's a gift."

The sun was shining off your dress and it made your face seem lighter. "Sam, really, I can't ask you to--"

"Please?"

You paused, lashes blinking carefully up at him and god he could really kiss you right there--

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

Smiling again, easing the tightness in Sam's chest, you nodded. "Fine."

You held the crocodile up to your face, "What are we gonna name him?"

"We?" Sam laughed and you laughed back at him.

"Sure, he's ours now." You tucked it under your arm again.

Ours. He was fragmentally taken away with the thought of something belonging to them, to us. A house, a couch, a dog (or a fox if that's what you wanted)--

"Anyways, where's the other one?"

Sam was brought back to the conversation.

"Oh, uh, Dean?" his eyes grazed over the stalls, pointing over to where Dean was talking with the tall Kelly Williams behind a tray of seashell necklaces. "Talking to one of the victims."

"Right, I almost forgot." You fiddled with your bag over your shoulder. "He decided whether he's killing me yet?"

His mouth tilted teasingly. "What makes you think that I've decided I'm not here to kill you?"

You shrugged, teeth flashing in a gut-wrenchingly beautiful smile. "Well, you bought me this, and ... you don't seem the type."

"The type?"

"Nah, you're too sweet on me already."

Sam's stomach did a somersault in his chest. "I--"

"Besides, you couldn't do it here. Too much blood, too many witnesses ..."

Sam's hair flicked over his shoulder where he tossed his head back to laugh. "Right. You've thought about the logistics already."

"Sure have." You nodded. "Any headway on the kids?"

"Some." He shrugged. "There's this fairy--"

"Dryad."

"--living in this petting zoo in this cottage on the outskirts of town..."

"Fine." You conceded. "I won't ask."

"No, but we have--"

"Ah, look at you two. Getting along like a house on fire."

Sam hadn't noticed his brother's approaching footsteps. Dean clapped a jolly hand over his brother's arm.

You smiled in greeting. "Good morning Dean."

He nodded. "'Morning Tinkerbell."

"Dean."

Chuckling you nodded. "Good one. Haven't heard that before."

The sun was hot on Sam's shoulders, Dean was making it hotter with his conspicuous side eye.

"What's that you got there?" He motioned over the figure under your arm.

You lifted it up proudly, "It's my crocodile. Sam got it for me. The lady wouldn't sell it to me."

"Oh, Sam got it for you, huh?" Dean smirked, relishing in the admission.

"Yep."

The glitter in your eye was making Sam's knees buckle.

"W-We should get going ..." He shifted from his one leg to the other. "Work to do ... and stuff."

"Right," you agreed, fixing the strap over your shoulder again. "I should also head home, not very welcome 'round here anyways."

Confusion glazed briefly over Dean's face but he said nothing on it.

"Yeah, stuff to do." He nodded.

You began your walk past them, finding Sam's gaze. "Thanks again, Sam. I'll see you boys around."

His eyes followed you where your crystals were clinking around your neck. "Yeah. No problem."

Barely out of your earshot, Dean turned to Sam. "A crocodile, huh?"

"Shut up."

-

It wasn't another two days before Sam saw you again.

The boys dove head first back into research, Mrs Kelly Washington hadn't much more to add beyond the fact that she heard another child's voice in the moments before her daughter's disappearance.

"I mean, there was some mention in the lore about goblins being able to turn into kids. Naughty ones at that."

Dean sighed over his bar-top lunch. He took another swig of beer.

"Okay, so what, these ... goblins are coming into town as children and grabbing the kids from their yards? Maybe they'd met somewhere before then, at school or the park?"

Sam shifted the salad around his plate, bored. "Yeah, maybe."

There was a depressingly thin amount of information in John's journal on goblins and the website lore was too broad to even begin sifting through it before another child was taken.

"Well we know that eight kids are taken each time, right?"

Nodding, Sam took an unenthusiastic bite of tomato.

"That means there's still two kids to be taken. I mean, there's only been six victims and autumn is two weeks away from ending, if the story is true that they hunt before winter."

The boy's didn't have to wait long. They were less than an hour clear of the dilapidated bar they'd stopped in for lunch when the call came over the police monitor in the car.

"Units, this is dispatch. We have a suspected 134 at 98 Calvary, requesting assistance."

Code 134. Kidnapping.

Dean found Sam's eye across the front seat before taking a screeching turn into the next street.

Cavalry road was just a few streets down and the scene was as they'd expected. Burning red and blue cop cars littered the street and Dean pulled the Impala into a space between them.

There was a scuffle of officers, in the corner of the driveway a man holding a sobbing woman to his chest. The parents.

Dean and Sam flashed their badges at the nearest deputy.

"What's the situation?"

The officer huffed, tightening his grip on either side of his belt. "We think the kid was taken, Frankie Moore. Disappeared about two hours ago, the parents only called in the last twenty minutes. They thought he'd just run off."

Dean nodded and Sam watched over the scene around him.

"Any witnesses?"

The cop shook his head, Taylor, his badge read. "None. Right out the backyard, just like the others."

"Did the parents see anything, hear anything?" Sam pressed.

"Not from what we can gather from them right now, they're pretty out of shape." Taylor motioned back to where the Mrs Moore was desperately pushing out sentencing between racking sobs. "But we've got a suspect, they're out fetching them right now."

Dean glanced over the officer, "A suspect?"

Sam's hands were starting to itch. He twisted them against his the cuffs of his sleeve.

"Yeah, neighbour saw them out in the forest about an hour ago. Called it into dispatch. They never took it seriously until this call came in."

Somewhere behind them a short siren yelped from one of the cars.

"Did they have the kid or what?" Dean's face was laden with confusion, the story twisting around his brain.

"No, but they've been taken in on suspicion. Talk of the town and such." Taylor responded and Sam's heart sunk to his knees.

There was a click over the officer's radio. "Suspect is in custody."

He pulled it closer to his mouth, "Copy that."

Sam tugged up on the end of his sleeve, revealing his wrists in the afternoon light. They were turning a pinkish red. Handcuffs.

"Dean."

Dean's back stiffened at his brother's tone, eyes finding his wrists. He sighed. "You've got to be kidding me."

Sam's brain was turning muddy. "The suspect, is she a woman?"

Taylor nodded. "As far as I know, yes."

-

There was nothing else said.

Sam fled the scene as if the perpetrator himself. He flew into the passenger's seat with the force of an attacking bear.

Dean chased after him, slotting the key into the ignition: setting the car alight.

"Sam, I know what you're thinking--"

Houses flew past the car, streets and pedestrians, but Sam had no space to consider them.

"You don't know what I'm thinking."

But Dean was persistent, knuckles white around the wheel. "She's your ... your soulmate, I get that, but our leads are thin. Have you considered that she could really be doing this?"

The station came into view at the end of the road. Lights from the cars were flashing in Sam's eyes. His head spun.

"She's not a monster, Dean."

"But she is, Sam! She is! She's not a human."

Dean pushed down on the brake in front of the sheriff's station and Sam was out the car before it had fully pulled to a stop.

He threw the doors open. Officers were flocking around like seagulls over an abandoned hot dog.

Sam grabbed the arm of the nearest one, firm in his grip.

"The suspect, where is she?"

"Uh, they've just moved her to--"

The doors swung open again behind him and the rumbling of the station was overpowered by a loud low whine. It was followed by an equally distressed yelp.

Sam turned to find a row of officers, leading one after the other like ducks, each with a rattling metal cage of a different animal. Your animals.

Goose was yipping wildly in the confines of the box. A woman holding Lydia followed him. They come in procession: the rabbits, the ferrets, the ducks, the budgies.

"What the fuck!" An officer close to the door jumped out the way where Lydia hissed angrily at him from between the bars.

"No, please!"

Sam spun on his heel. His hands felt heavy with helplessness. It was your voice, echoing across the station and reverberating in his brain.

"Please, just leave them! They're not gonna hurt anyone. I haven't done anything--"

His feet chased after the sound. Sam found a long corridor near the back of the room, there were two officers tugging on either of your arms. Your eyes were bouncing wildly between each of the officers where they disappeared into the evidence room with your pets.

Your gaze found his own. "Sam!"

"Y/n." He was bounding down the corridor, long stretches of leg, but the officers were adamant in their grip.

"Sam, I promise I didn't-- it wasn't me. I swear--"

There was a loud huff and a heave and you stumbled backwards into a closed holding cell. Your hands wrapped between the bars.

"I know," Sam was breathless. "I know you didn't--"

Suddenly there was hands on his chest. "Sir, you need to get out of here."

"I need to speak with her--"

"Sir you can't do that. You need to speak to the sheriff."

Sam's chest was rumbling with a frenzied desperation. He couldn't pull his eyes off the fragments of your figure behind the bars.

The officers shoved him again. "Sir--"

He ripped himself off their grip, hair flushed back against his reddening face and he turned back down the corridor.

Dean was already at the sheriff's desk.

"--suspicious behaviour--"

"What the hell is going on?" Sam's voice rumbled across the room. "On what basis are you holding her?"

The sheriff was a small man and he looked smaller under Sam's furious stature.

"It's like I was telling your partner here, agent," He was patting a handkerchief over his balding head. "Y/n Y/l/n is being held on the basis of suspicious activity."

"What exactly is your definition of suspicious activity?"

The sheriff shrugged, "Well we got a call in of her roaming around the forest--"

Sam could feel his fists tightening at his sides, "What are people not allowed to go into the forest in this town or does that make them all kidnappers? You have no evidence--"

"Sammy, calm down." Dean's hand found Sam's chest but he shrugged him off.

"Release her. Right now."

But the sheriff shook his head. "Unfortunately, not even FBI have the power to do that. State's laws say she can be detained for 12 hours pending investigative procedures."

"Investigative procedures--?"

By then, Dean had him by the arm. "Okay, okay. Let's go cool off--"

He tugged Sam towards the door, surprising both himself and Dean by allowing him to do so successfully.

The cool dusk air rushed over his face. Sam took a deep breath.

"They have no evidence, Dean--"

"I get that, but you need to calm down. You're not helping the situation by threatening the sheriff."

An officer passed them with another cage. Three hedgehogs.

Sam ran a hand over his face. He took a deep breath.

"You don't even believe she's innocent, Dean."

There was quiet for a long moment.

Sam fell into a bench bolted against the side of the building. His hands found his face again. After a moment, Dean crouched into the spot beside him.

"Look." He sighed. "If you believe her, I believe you. Alright?"

Sam's eyes were watching his shoes. He nodded, only half believing his brother's claim.

They sat like that for nearly an hour with evening settling over Fernglade around them and the autumn crisp seeping into their suits.

After a long resounding silence, one that had stretched on past Dean's wide yawn, Dean rose to his feet.

"Sammy, we should go home. Get some headway on this goblins angle."

At that, Sam shook his head. "I'm gonna stay."

"What, until she's out?"

"Yeah."

Dean's eyes were dripping in pity and it made Sam's blood boil.

"That's--" he raised his watch into his eyeline, "She's still got another ten hours. It's only six o' clock now."

Sam nodded. "Yeah."

"Sam--"

"Dean."

Another cold silence.

Sam pressed his hair back with a wide hand, conceding. "Look, I'm sorry. But I'm gonna stay. You head back to the motel, do some work and get some sleep. I'll be fine."

Dean considered him, but he made no further argument and Sam thought momentarily it was maybe because he knew he couldn't budge him in the same argument with Cas.

"Alright. Fine." Dean nodded, tugging his jacket closer against the cold. "I'll see you in the morning."

Sam watched his brother's retreating figure all the way until the Impala had disappeared down the next street before going to stand.

The doors swung open with a whine, the station had cooled to a quieter buzz than when he'd first burst in. The sheriff had disappeared into an office off in the corner of the room.

Finding the nearest officer, Johnson, behind a short wooden desk, Sam approached him.

Officer Johnson glanced warily up at him from the papers he'd been filling out. He'd probably been witness to his first outburst.

"Uhm," Sam cooled his voice to a deferential timber. "The animals at the back, what's gonna happen to them?"

The officer set his pen down, "Well I'm doing the paperwork on them now. They'll be released if and when she does."

"If?"

He shrugged, "Yeah, if they don't find anything they'll let her go. Only got twelve hours."

Sam shifted his weight, running his eyes over the station. Somehow it was colder inside than the bench he'd just abandoned.

"Right."

The image returned to him again of your tiny green dress, the satin sleeves that reached down over your arms - he wondered for a moment if you wore them to cover all his scars - and the shiny ends that left your legs a prize for the bite of the freezing air that nipped at him even through all his layers.

He dug his hands into his coat pocket, pulling out his badge and his wallet and his phone to slip them into his pant pockets. Then he shrugged out the jacket.

Sam held it out to the officer. "Would you mind giving this to her?"

The officer took it with tentative hands, he gave it a glance over but made no move to stand.

"There's nothing in it." Sam huffed. "It's freezing in here, and unless you want her to die of hypothermia before morning, I suggest you do what I've asked."

He was considering it, Sam could tell by how his eyes flickered over the office door behind which the sheriff was hiding, but eventually elected to stand.

"Fine."

-

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[live-love-be-unique]

Man vs Bear

Summary: Poor König is broken-hearted, luckily he has some new friends to help take his mind off things aka drunk König vs a bear.

My submission for @ghouljams King Killer challenge. And when Ghoul asks us to bump off the Austrian in stupid ways, I just had to answer the call!

The prompt I used was 10. Tried to pet a bear with a little bit of 42. “Trust me, I know what I’m doing” thrown in.

Parings: none

Warnings: spicy margaritas to the eyeballs, bear attacks, bad drunken flirting attempted by the large Austrian.

“Would anybody like to tell me why half of Colonel König’s body was found mauled by a bear in a tree outside of a local Hooters?” Laswell said as she stormed into Price’s office at two in the morning.

Price was seated at his desk running a weary hand over his tired face, lit cigar dangling from his mouth, while the rest of the 141 were sitting in a row in front of him, like naughty little boys who had been summoned to the principal’s office. Gaz and Ghost at least had the common sense to look repentant for their actions while Soap was still feeling the effects of the alcohol he’d consumed.

“I guess the bear couldn’t finish such a big meal?” Soap muttered, Ghost smacked the back of his head and Gaz groaned as Price pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. ���What? He’s huge!”

“One of you is going to explain exactly what happened and maybe I’ll think of shortening the time you’re on latrine duty” Price said through gritted teeth.

“You’re giving us the recruit’s job just because he couldn’t handle his bloody liquor?” Gaz whined.

“Start talking or I’ll make sure the only government job you three can get is as assistant cleaners in a local councilman’s office” Laswell chimed in.

“He said he broke up with his…frau? Isn’t that what he called her?” Soap looked between Ghost and Gaz for assistance.

“We thought a night on the town would take his mind off her” Gaz interrupted.

“I only went along with it because I couldn’t take anymore of his moping” Ghost shrugged, causing everyone to glance his way.

“Well somebody had better start from the beginning, I have a call with Kortac in 20 to explain this…situation” Laswell demanded, glancing at her watch.

…Earlier that night…

“Cheer up lad, plenty of fish in the sea” Soap said happily, pushing a large glass of beer towards König as he stared at the chest of a passing Hooters waitress.

“Drink up mate” Gaz smirked, gesturing towards the larger man with his own glass.

“Perhaps you are right my friends” König lifted his mask and took a large sip of his beer.

“Cause we are lad! Nothing like drowning your sorrows surrounded by such pretty lasses” Soap smirked up the pretty waitress who brought a plate of wings to their table.

As their night progressed, the four men found themselves crowded around a pool table, Gaz and Soap against Ghost and König; the Austrian proving himself to be an apt player “we have a pool table in our break room” he admitted as he sunk another billiard ball.

Raucous laughter flowed around the table “Oi, where’d did the big fella go?” Soap glanced around the room before spotting the larger man, towering over a pretty, curvy little redhead “well would you look at that, old mate’s getting back out there”

“Oh no” Ghost muttered as the very drunken late man fumbled in his efforts at flirting.

“You are very beautiful for a bigger woman” König stumbled out as the woman and her friends looked horrified “tell me, are you a redhead all over?” König asked as he he leaned towards the clearly uncomfortable woman.

The woman angrily threw the contents of her glass into König’s eyes and stormed off.

…“You should have heard the scream he let out! Didn’t realize she was drinking one of those spicy margaritas until it hit him in the face” Gaz interjected.

“What happened to the girl he insulted?” Price questioned.

“Who, Jennifer? Old Gaz here made sure she was well taken care of” Soap smirked and patted Gaz’s shoulder…

“König! König mate! Wait” Soap and Ghost followed after the larger masked man as he stumbled his way through the crowded restaurant, pushing past other patrons of the restaurant until he made his way outside. Gaz lingered behind, apologizing to the pretty redhead, pocketing her number before following his friends chasing the Austrian.

Gaz found them, frozen stiff watching as König stumbled towards the forest line “where’s he off to?”

His answer came soon enough as they watched as König made his way towards a large clump of shrubbery…and towards a large black bear.

“Mate I don’t think you want to be doing that” Ghost warned as König began stumbling towards the bear.

“It is fine, my friend, I know what I am doing, I have seen many bear before” König slurred happily as he reached his hand toward the bear, ready to pat it, like an overgrown puppy.

“In a zoo he means” Soap muttered to his colleagues as the bear raised its large paw and brought it down, scraping a large gash across König’ broad chest “Shit!”

The three men, along with a crowd that had spilled into the parking lot at the sound of screaming, could only watch in horror as the large bear reared up on its hind legs and latched its snarling mouth onto König’s neck.

…“The damn thing started flinging him around like a little girls dolly” Soap interrupted.

“Soap, shut it” Ghost snapped…

They couldn’t say how long it took before someone in the crowd had the idea to fire a rife in the direction of the carnage. At the sound or the gunshot, the bear raised its head from where it had been gnawing on König’s intestines, it gave a snarl as it took hold of the mangled remains and dragged it deeper into the forest.

“Bloody hell, how are we going to explain this to Price?” Gaz finally spoke.

Ghost sighed and pulled out his phone as both Soap and Gaz shouted “not it!” Hoping it would go to voicemail and allow the three of them to at least sober themselves up enough.

Price answered on the second ring.

…Back to the present…

“You’re telling me me he got drunk, insulted a woman he was trying to flirt with, had a…” Laswell looked down at the notebook in her hand “a spicy margarita thrown in his face and then decided to play a game of ‘fuck around and find out’ with a bear?”

“Yeah” Ghost grunted.

“Pretty much” Soap shrugged.

“Yeah, that’s what happened” Gaz nodded.

Laswell reached across the desk, snatching the glass of whiskey from Price’s hand “I need this more than you at the moment” she muttered at Price’s protest before downing the amber liquid in one gulp.

[reapers-lover]

See You Again~

Warren Worthington iii x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, yelling, mentions of death and murder but really fluffy at the end.

"What happens when Peter plays a horrible joke on y/n that leaves her sobbing for hours?"

Today was the day Warren was coming back and you couldn't be happier. It had been about 2 weeks since he left to go on a mission with some of the others and you have been counting down the days till he came back.

After an hour or so of waiting the jet had just arrived so you went down to greet them. However when you got there you couldn't see Warren anywhere.

"Peter! Peter, wait!" You yelled. 

He stopped and turned around to look at you. You rarely talked to anyone but Warren, not many people liked you much and Peter was not one who I did either.

"What do you want?" He rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Where is Warren? He came with you guys and I don't see him anywhere." You asked, ignoring his annoyed reactions.

"Oh yeah about that, I'm sorry I have to be the one to tell you this but Warren died."

Your heart sunk to the floor. Dead. Warren, your Warren died. This was his first mission with them and he died. He's gone.

"Sorry again y/n" Peter patted your back then left.

You ran back to your room holding back tears the whole way. As soon as you burst through the door you collapsed onto the ground crying.

He's gone. He's completely gone and he's never coming back. You felt like you couldn't breath like your own sorrow was suffocating you.

Somehow you made it to your bedroom to which you proceeded to sob into your pillow. Your cries were frequent and desperate to be held in his arms again. How could this be? Your Warren is gone.

You cried for what felt like hours but was truly only one when you heard the door outside of your room open. Which was followed by footsteps toward your room then the door opening to reveal a very confused Warren.

You looked up and saw him and nearly screamed. You ran and practically jumped into his arms. Sobbing even harder than before.

" Y/n, darling, what's wrong? What happened baby?" He asked clearly confused as to why you were so upset. He tried to pull away to look at you but you only buried your head deeper into his chest.

He realized he wasn't going to get an answer for a little while so he picked you up and walked over to the bed. He laid down and pulled you tighter into his chest. He sighed lightly and kissed the top of your head.

About 20 minutes later you had calmed down a lot more so he sprung up the question again.

"Baby, what's wrong?" He put his fingers under your chin and lifted it so he could look at you.

You sniffed. "When I went down to go find you after the plane arrived I couldn't see you anywhere. So I a-asked Peter where you were. And he s-said that you d-died." You sobbed into his chest.

Warren gritted his teeth as anger flooded through him. But he kept himself calm enough to comfort you.

"Darling I'm so sorry I wasn't there. They made me stay behind and clean up the jet because my feathers got all over the place. God you didn't deserve that. But I promise I'm right here and I promise not to leave you ok? He was just being an asshole." He said to which you nodded

He sighed again and rested his head on top of yours. "Soon enough we will leave here and go and live someplace better. Where it's just us and no one who would cause us pain. We will go live somewhere where it's more accepted to basically be a bird. He joked, to which you giggled. "Ahh that's what I like to hear darling, please don't cry I promise everything's ok." You nodded and mumbled a quick 'ok'. 

"How about we go pick up some food to eat and bring it back here so we can spend some time alone?" 

"Ok" you mumbled once again.

"You get to choose what we get darling." He said

"Fish and chips."

He laughed "could have guessed. Let me get my jacket and shoes on and then we will go alright?" He asked as he got up from the bed.

"Ok." You replied as you also left the bed. You grabbed your shoes and put them on and when Warren came back he had an extra jacket in his hands.

"Here use this one, I know you like it." He laughed, handing you one of his jackets. You smiled, it was your favorite of his. You put it on then you both walked out the door.

He held you close as you walked down the halls together but as you both got down the stairs and rounded the corner you stopped. Warren's crew were all sitting around a table laughing and joking loudly.

"Yeah dude her face when I told her was hilarious." Peter laughed

"Dammit I wish I could have seen it." Scott whined

Anger filled Warren. He dropped his arm from your shoulder and he stormed over to the table. He grabbed Peter by the color and pushed him back against his chair. 

"Don't you every fucking talk to Y/n again. Do you know how it fucking feels to be told that someone you care about is dead? How would you feel if I did that to you? Do you have any idea how much pain you fucking caused her?" Warren shouted

"Chill out man, it was just a joke nothing serious. " Peter said, rolling his eyes and chuckling. Warren slammed him against his chair again. Peter wheezed from the impact.

"Nothing serious? NOTHING SERIOUS?! That was not a fucking joke asshole! How fucking dare you hurt her! She has been nothing but nice to the lot of you. And yet you all treat her like shit and I'm not having it anymore! She deserves the fucking world and does no need anymore fucking pain in her life! If I found out one you play another joke like that on her I will kill you with my barefucking hands! Do you hear me?!" Warren shouted to which no one responded. "I SAID DO YOU FUCKING HEAR ME?!" He yelled. They all nodded trying their hardest to avoid eye contact with him.

"Good." He said letting go of Peter's shirt. "I quit. We will both be leaving as soon as we find a new place but for now leave us the fuck alone. Come on y/n, let's go." He said. To which you followed. He once again draped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you even tighter into his side as you walked away.

"Thank you Warren." You mumbled.

"Oh course darling. I love you." He planted a kiss on the side of your head.

"I love you too."

He smiled. "How about we go get our fish and chips now?"

…

Once you both got your food you walked back to your room and sat down to start eating. Dinner was quiet but not uncomfortable. You were so relieved that Warren was okay that it didn't matter if you were in conversation or not. You were just happy he was there. 

After you finished dinner and cleaned up Warren invited you to take a bath with him to help you both relax. You agreed and followed him into the bathroom.

While he fixed the bath you stripped yourself of your clothes then started lighting some candles so you didn't have to keep the fluorescent bathroom light on. Warren started taking his clothes off and by the time he was done the bath was full and all the candles were lit.

Warren slid into the bath and you quickly followed suit. Once you sat down you sighed and leaned your head back onto Warren's chest. You didn't take baths together often because of Warren wings. Which was also why the bathtub had been put basically in the middle of the bathroom. But when you did you both enjoyed them greatly. 

You helped wash each other. Then when you were done you both carefully got out, dried off and got ready for bed. Warren carefully scooped you up into his arms, carried you to the bedroom and lightly set you down on your shared bed. He quickly slid in next to you and pulled you into his chest.

"I love you y/n so much. I promise not to leave you." He brought your chin up and kissed your lips softly.

You smiled "I love you too Warren, more than anything in the world."

He hummed then brought you back to his chest as he rested his head in the crook of your neck. Before you knew it you had quickly fallen asleep to the steady heartbeat of the man you loved most.

Wordcount: 1,480

A/n: thank you if you got this far. I hop yall like the slight bit of content lol. And sorry if you don't like fish and chips. I absolutely adore it. Definitely my favorite food ever so I just went with that lol. Have a lovely rest of your day!<3

[sydney-grimes10198]

Wrong place Wrong time

Bucky x reader! Mentioned Steve x reader kind of! Mentioned Tony Stark

Warnings: blood, gore, angst, fights, civil war spoilers kind of.

Reader is a dark fae mutant, she is at the most 20 years of age; her first mission is civil war, when Bucky and Steve go up against Tony, she goes to help but ends up almost being killed by Tony. Steve and Bucky just about lose it, Bucky can hardly hold back while Steve is in utter shock at what just happened…

Reader’s POV

The fight has gotten incredibly hard, Steve at the top of the large opening that has just closed over the hydra base; he started to resume fighting, trying to get Tony to stand down. Bucky and you still trying to get up to where the both of them were.

“Bucky! Grab ahold of my hand I’m gonna fly you up!”

Bucky nodded half trusting, he reached his normal hand up towards yours; with all your strength you grabbed ahold of his hand pulling his entire body weight with you and flew him towards the fight. With a hard humph you landed with him next to you on the level where they were fighting. You painfully stated in a joking manner, “Jesus your heavy.”

Before Bucky could reply you both heard the grunting and metal hitting metal and rushed towards to help. Bucky started to make his way to where Steve was fighting with Tony and losing, you going to help as well but getting stopped by a metal hand resting in front of you.

“Don’t. Stay back.” You glanced over to Bucky and before you could say another word he looked you in the eyes with a sympathetic look. “Please.”

You gulped then nodded watching the soldier run his way over to his best friend. You watched them from afar hitting and throwing punches wherever they could. Your shoulders and wings slumped down; your feathers slightly brushing against the ground; you had to help. After Bucky got pushed back by the force of Tony’s punch; Steve went over to help; making sure he was okay; you made a mental note and realized they were in immediate danger.

You rolled your shoulders, and made your way over to Tony, you shouted out towards him, “hey!”

You slammed your fist into his faceplate wincing at the contact. Your wings giving yourself some shield against his blows. Steve yelled from behind about getting away but your main focus was their safety. Tony threw one hard punch your way and you dodged it by bending backwards a bit.

Tony most of the fight was so clouded in anger that he couldn’t even tell what he was doing. He had made sure you didn’t have enough time to get your next blow at him before he grabbed your left wing. The strength of his grip made you wince and your force faulter. His grip tightened so much that his metal fingers crushed to the inside of your feathers making many fall out. All you heard was a crack and next thing you knew he broke your main bone of your wing making you scream out in pain. Blood seeped through his fingers and before you could land a blow onto him he retaliated and readied his hand blasters shooting you in the chest throwing your entire body back landing it hard against the ground with a stiffening crack.

At this point your senses were all but non existent, you heard muffle shouts before your vision went black. The only thing you heard before everything went into nothing was a yell coming towards you. “Y/N!!!” Before the darkness seeped through what was left of your consciousness.

Bucky’s POV

I remember seeing Y/N race towards Tony after I fell from a hit by him; Steve by my side. When I saw her move her way to Tony and yell at him landing the first blow my heart sunk. I knew it wasn’t going to end well. My body being almost immobile; feeling my limbs almost not being able to be used as I see her land punch after punch. I got pulled up from the ground by Steve and him yelling her name to stop.

“Y/N stop! Get back!” Steve was all but screaming to get the young girl back but before we could even get back to the fight and help her we saw Tony grab hold of her wing; twisting it in an odd angle. I grabbed my side and tried to move towards her before he did any more damage; my voice non existent as I see her wing get crushed by Tony”s hand. Hearing a deafening crack in the silence followed by her ear piercing scream. Steve and I both run as we see her wing start to leak blood and feathers fall to the ground.

“Y/N!” Steve yelled. I rushed behind Steve to get over to the fight but before we even made it to her there was a blast and at the corner of my eye I saw her body go flying behind me slamming down against the ground with a slam.

My emotions didn’t even settle before my body started running to her. I barely know this girl but if anything happens to her it’ll be on my hands.

I scream out as her head falls to the floor in defeat “Y/N!!!” I race to her side, falling to my knees grasping her suit looking for the wound, or even trying to find a pulse. I could see her eyes close right after and I couldn’t hold it back anymore. Sobs racked my body for the first time since before Hydra. I yelled out again. “Y/N! wake up!!”

I have no idea what it was. The feeling of her being like Steve before the serum? Young and frail? Or was it something more. I’ve never felt this before; I almost feel like my soul is getting crushed whenever she’s in danger. She’s only just becoming old enough to drink and she’s risking her life for me. I can’t let her fucking die. Not another person is going to die for me.

I couldn’t even feel the next thing my body was doing. Without any confirmation of her results if she is even alive or not. I felt the blood in my veins boil, the feeling of anger taking place throughout my body. Before I know it I push past Steve and raise a strong blow with my metal arm into Tony’s chest with a stiffening smash.

The scream that rips through my entire body as I attempt to rip out his life source made Steve stand back. At this point it makes it my only mission at this point. The feeling of power and intuition and the needing to do this becomes top priority. There was no thoughts of the words if they were even said of the ones that initiate the Winter Soldier but I felt him on the inside of my bones. This was going to end right fucking now.

I clasp my right hand into his faceplate and try to push him against the wall and destroy whatever was left of his fighting strength. Without even realizing his hand raises and retaliates with the same force that knocked Y/N down hits me right through my metal arm throwing me back and hitting the floor.

My mind clouded as I tried to gain my consciousness and feeling again. What’s going on? Everything is so blurry? Shit, where’s Steve. I glance to whatever was next to me and I stare straight into your unconscious form; your eyes that are now closed, hair tossed all over your face and your wings laying beneath your frail body. I tried to reach for your hand but realizing one crucial thing. I glance down and choke….no fucking way…it’s..gone. My arm, the weapon Hydra put on me was ripped off of me. I could almost feel the sensation but before I could even think more about what was happening I myself blacked out.

1 month later after the fight.

The fight left many people confused, hurt and torn. The ones on Steve’s side had to stay confidential since they practically went against over 20 countries for one man. In Wakanda a certain Super soldier is being treated for something that’ll be done soon.

Reader’s POV

“Shuri! I’m telling you it’s fine! It’s not like that.”

Shuri nudged you in the arm jokingly, as you both walked towards the lab which held both super soldiers and the king of Wakanda; King T’challa.

“Sure it is, have you seen the way he looks at you? , of course you haven’t you were in the icu for ages after that fight.” You rolled your eyes at her comment.

As much as she wants you to believe that Bucky has feelings for you there’s just no way In hell. “I mean I visited you on a daily but Bucky?” You glanced at her as she said his name.

“He never left your side.” As she said that last line we walked into the lab and saw Steve talking to T’challa and someone talking to none other than Bucky himself. Shuri waved you goodbye as you made your way to the man.

When your eyes met his he bid the doctor a thanks and paid no attention to him. His eyes were on you and until you coughed did he glance away and smile. “How’s the famous Sargent doing today?”

Bucky chuckled at your nickname and looked towards you. “Pretty good, asides from only having one arm.” He motioned towards his stub that was currently wrapped in a bandage. You smiled and walked closer to Bucky; pulling up a seat you sat down and played with your fingers thinking of something to say.

Bucky nudged you with his boot. “What is it?” You looked back up at him and smiled. “I’m just happy your going to be free and happy again, just like back in the 40s.”

Bucky hummed and gently said. “Hey, I mean just think of it as an ice bath but…asleep and no water?”

You chuckled at his joke. “If it makes you feel any better Barnes. I’ll be visiting daily telling you all kinds of things from Wakanda.”

Bucky smiled and spoke out. “I’ll be waiting.” You bit the inside of your cheek wanting to say more but you two were so bad at talking that it made it extremely difficult to get anything out. “How long will it take? The sleep stuff that is..”

Bucky looked at you and smiled “not too long hopefully.” His smile faltered a little when he looked behind you at your wings. It was still at an odd angle and was hardly moving at all. He wondered if it was still healing. Or if you were still hurting.

You glanced behind you a little flexing your wings. “If your wondering about these, they’re healing well…” Bucky couldn’t help but smile a little at that.

“Does it hurt? Can you fly yet?” You shook your head at the flying part. “It doesn’t hurt too bad, it hurts more when I try to move the left wing. And with flying? I’m practically human at the moment with a broken foot.” I laughed at my own joke half hurting because it is true.

Bucky felt like he’d been kicked, thinking if only he stopped before it got that bad during the fight…..”hey stop that.” Bucky looked towards you as you placed your hand on his cheek. “I’m fine, I’m right here.”

Bucky slightly leaned into your touch but nodding on and acting tough. “Yeah.”

You couldn’t help but want to hug him and tell him everything was okay and will be okay. The feeling of just wanting to confess to him was eating you out. Jesus, why was this all so hard!

“Bucky?” Bucky looked towards you keeping eye contact. “What is it?” You look into his eyes a second longer and then glance down at your feet and back up to him.

“Hurry up now, I wanna have a dance when you wake up.” Bucky chuckled at your words. Smiling wide at you.

“I’ll make sure of it. It’s only a matter of time doll.” This time it was your time to blush, your ears heating up at the nickname. Jesus why does he have such control over you! You reached over to him and gave him a small nudge in his left arm. “You got this, and you better hurry cause I’m waiting sarge.” You winked at him.

Bucky shook his head and laughed. “Sure thing I’ll keep that in mind.” You two have one last glance before he was told it was time. Bucky stood up from his place looking down at you, smiling and then letting you lead him over to the machine. As you walked over you finally stood beside Shuri and Steve as he stepped inside of the large human body machine. It would be an understatement of the years if you said you weren’t freaking out. Shuri glanced towards you annoyed you two didn’t have a moment but you just nudged her and whispered “when he wakes up.”

“Are you ready Sergeant Barnes?” We all watched hesitantly, waiting for his answer. Before he nodded he looked towards you outside of where he was. You smiled at him and let him know just by looks that everything will be okay. You watched a second longer almost watching him ponder?

Bucky pushed his hand onto the door frame of the machine and jumped out, and in one swift move he crossed his way over to your frame. He grasped your cheeks and pressed his lips against yours in one firm kiss. The feeling of his lips against yours was like magic.

Your heart swelled as you deepened the kiss. Your lips practically molding into each other. Bucky ended up having to hold the back of your head so you wouldn’t fall over, as his other hand held your waist. You two finally let go, as Bucky stared into your eyes. “I couldn’t fucking hold it in for any more time, I love you so Goddamn much Y/N”

you breathed out breathlessly hardly able to say anything. “I love you too Buck.” He let you go as he heard Shuri clap and yell praises about finally confessing. Bucky let you go and walked back over to the machine. He stood still and looked at you one last time, As he said; “I’m ready.”

The door closed with a wirr and Bucky was frozen in place leaving him there for the remainder of the time he needed to be.

[cassidystarks]

Rookie Moves (MJF x Reader)

This was requested by @okadaizoirl, sorry this took so long to post haha, but it's finally here! I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: degradation, humiliation, shower sex

Word Count:

10. "looks like we'll be trapped for a while"

20. "touch them again and I'll kill you"

23. "did you hear all of that?"

As a rookie in the wrestling industry, I have been mostly just a jobber my whole career, but after finding myself signing up to join AEW, life has been getting better and better. Everyone has been so kind to me, well, most of them. There is Max, who is pretentious as he is gorgeous. He is the rudest person I have ever met. Though somehow, I can't help but think about him. I push thoughts away all the time with ease, but he just seems to stay on my mind more than I'd like.

Though when Tony Khan called me into his office and told me I would be having a match with him tonight my heart sunk into my chest. I did not want to wrestle that dickhead, but at the same time if I pin him it would absolutely destroy him.

The time came for the match, which was set in the middle of Dynamite. The first two matches were completed and my walk-out music was about to start playing. I have only had a couple matches on Dark, but I am happy to have any matches. I walk out and do my entrance before stepping into the ring. Doing some last-minute stretches I could hear his godawful walk-out song playing and he walks out as self-entitled as ever.

The match lasts for about ten minutes. There is tension, and we both can tell. I manage to roll him up and pin him. I smile big as the referee raises my hand. Max looks as shocked as I feel and I roll out of the ring and make my way up the ramp. I flip him off before going to the backstage area and going to get some water from my dressing room. I tidy up a bit and take a little break before getting ready for a shower.

But of course, I don't have a towel.

I walk out of my room and go down to my friend Anna Jay's dressing room and knock on the door. She comes out and greets me with a hug.

"Hey! I see you won the match, how are you? And how is Max taking it?" She asked.

"I'm good, I have no idea how Max is, he seemed pretty pissed off when he realized I had won. But I mean oh well, what he gets to be honest but anyways, can I borrow a towel? I don't have any in my dressing room." I asked.

"Of course, I got you covered." She said walking back in and grabbing a towel. She comes back out and hands it to me.

"Thank you, you are a whole lifesaver," I said.

I head back to my dressing room before getting stopped by one of the staff members.

"Hey, great match."

"Thank you," I say, giving them a friendly smile.

"How about I take you out for a drink or two?" They said, leaning up against the wall.

"Thank you for the offer, but I'll have to pass," I say politely declining the offer.

"Oh come on, just one drink. It'll be fun." They persist.

"I said no," I say.

"Listen, all you have to do is have one drink with me, it's not that fucking hard." They said trying to grab at my wrist.

"Touch them again and I'll kill you," said someone with a familiar voice.

I look behind me and see Max. He seems even more pissed than before, and I can't tell if it's because of this or the match. I suspect both.

"Look dude, I don't want any trouble."

"Clearly you do, they said no. Respect that."

"Don't you hate them?"

"Did I ever say that? No. The only one who can touch them is me."

I widen my eyes.

"Excuse me? No one can touch me." I say replying to him.

Max gets the guy to leave. And it's just the two of us.

"You could say thank you," he says.

"I didn't need your help," I say rolling my eyes.

He smiles and nods. He's about to leave and my mouth moves before my mind could tell it to.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Why did you do it? I thought you hated me." I said, not looking at him.

"Did I ever say that?"

"No, but you always act like it. I mean the last few weeks, the frustration between us. Explain that then."

"I don't hate you. In fact, I'm pretty fond of you. But we are at different points in our life, I need to get over this feeling, but I can't."

I make my way into the shower after a conversation with Max. To think he is feeling exactly what I am feeling. I get in and turn the water on warm. I bask in the warmth of the water hitting all the right places. I hear a knock on my bathroom door.

"Who is it?" I yell, getting my hair wet.

"Me."

"Max?" I asked surprised.

"Yeah."

"Sorry, I'm kinda preoccupied," I say, starting to lather the shampoo in my hair.

"Come on, I gotta use the bathroom." He said.

I roll my eyes. It is always something with this man.

"Fine, the door is unlocked."

I hear the door open and close behind me. I get finished washing my hair a few minutes later. His presence lingers, so I know he isn't gone.

"Can you hand me my loofah? It's sitting on the sink." I ask.

I look and see his hand extend in the shower with my loofah in his hand.

"Thank you," I say grabbing it, and seeing his hand leave.

I hear the toilet flush and all I can think is 'shit.'

"MAX!" I say turning off the water.

"My bad," he said.

I grab my towel and wrap it around me, stepping out. I was almost done, but clearly, I'm gonna have to get back in when the water cools. I reach for the handle to grab some of my other skincare. I go to open the door. It won't open.

'Oh, come on," I think, giggling at the door handle to try and make it open.

"looks like we'll be trapped for a while," he said, unamused.

"Great," I said rolling my eyes.

I could feel him staring at me. I look over as he pulls me into his kiss. His kiss was soft and passionate. I gave in and kissed back.

What felt like ages, were only seconds. Soon enough his clothes were on the floor and my towel was thrown off my body. He grabs me by the hips and pulls me close. Leaving kisses on my jawline and down to my neck. One hand rested on my thigh, and the other on my waist.

"You want my dick, you dirty slut." He said, slapping my upper thigh.

There was pure bliss flowing off the steam and the rough kisses he was planting on my body.

He pulls me up on the top counter and slid into me slowly. I throw my head back, running my fingers through his hair. His hand runs up to my cheek and pulls me to face him. His eyes told everything. He wanted it just as much as I did.

He went faster and faster as his lips crashed into mine. I felt my climax come slowly, and then all at once.

"Fuck Max!" I yelled, letting my body go limp against his skin.

"For my enemy, you sure take me well."

"For my enemy, you sure do it good."

Sorry if this isn't very well! And also again would just like to apologize for the lack of posting, and how long it took to put this out!

[finitevoid]

in yyh’s last arc, it takes an abrupt and intense heel-turn in tone. the manga has never been, like, happy-go-lucky or anything. it’s sort of... edgy. it can be dour. it’s opening moments are of it’s teenaged protagonist getting vehicular manslaughtered and then deciding that he wants to be dead, because it’s easier than being alive. which all sounds really dark, but it’s not, really. one of yusuke’s first scenes is making a little kid laugh by making funny faces. there’s all kinds of crass jokes, jaunty musical cues and explosions of emotion from characters that wouldn’t be out of place with a laugh track behind it.

by the time yusuke dies the second time something is different. but it’s not really all that different from yusuke’s fight with toguro at the end of the dark tournament, so you don’t really notice. itsuki is proclaiming his love for sensui and yusuke is getting possessed and making jokes about how his heart isn’t beating, anymore. so you don’t really notice. and yusuke’s meets the first spirit detective and gets kicked out for being a demon, and you don’t really notice. and yusuke leaves keiko behind and hiei is called off on the promise of his own death and kurama’s family is getting threatened by a shadowy man and you don’t really notice.

i think, at least personally, the moment it sunk in that the final chapters of yyh are different was when yomi explained to us, the audience, how youko kurama, his boss, friend, and closest confidant, brutally mutilated him and left him for dead. i remember being 14 and not really knowing what to do with that, because yeah, kurama’s past life had always been implied to be an antagonistic figure, but here was the reality. in this character with all the cool confidence and control in the world, blinded by his best friend. and how kurama becomes embroiled in this tense, political fever-pitch of yomi’s iron grip on him because of kurama’s sudden gaining of the concept of compassion.

like, hiei’s (adult woman?) girlfriend who is also his boss explains how she was born into sex slavery by her lecherous father, and how her escape involved mutilating her own body to the point it was non-recognizable so that she could not be a prize any longer. yusuke’s ancestor slash father-figure tells him about how the only thing that sustains him is the flesh of living, breathing, fully alive humans, and how he fell in love with one such human he intended to eat. and how he then swears off the act of sustaining himself in her honor and memory. and all of this is just. there. for you to chew on.

the saddest about the three kings arc was that it was clearly meant to be something more than it was. it touches upon these grim topics as the status quo of the series shifts very rapidly from being about being a kid to about Being A Young Adult, and how that is complicated and messy and how there are no good answers. I want to see more of it. part of me wishes for a world in which that could’ve been realized. but, then, isn’t this a reflection of togashi’s mental state at the time, too? characters mutilated, scarred, begot with chronic illness and disability. is this not a reflection of the ways he was making himself ill just to write yyh?

it’s impossible, at least personally, not to notice this. and the series goes back to having levity once the tournament gets into full swing, but it never really recovers from that blip of just, pure despair, in my opinion. koenma controls spirit world and yusuke opens a little ramen stand and keiko goes to university, but everytime I finish yyh, i’m always left thinking about those 20 chapters or so in which all there was was pain. just pure, physical pain, pain of the body, of the physical form. as if the author’s pain was leaking into the pages, staining it. mukuro is scarred. yomi is blind. raizen is starving. i cannot help but think about it, even long after the characters have all gotten their happy endings.

[4sacrowd]

Miracles & Tragedies

When we were little girls we dreamt about a lot of different things; Some of us dreamed about what our weddings would look like, while others dreamed about being doctors and vets. There are those choice few that dreamt about being bus drivers or scientists, but the one thing every little girl has in common, is that we all had or desperately wanted a baby doll. Our motherly instincts kick in at such a young age, we don't even realize that our dolls, our wanting to play house, wanting to take our dolls to the doctor and care for them, was all preparing us for the greater act of becoming mothers. Some of us may not want children right after marriage, some of us want to start as soon as the rings are slipped on, and some of us may not want them at all. Whether you're a mama or an auntie, those instincts take over at some point and cultivate how we make certain decisions.

At 17 I wanted 10 children.. I know, a little crazy right? But the idea of a bunch of little versions of me and the person I loved running around was just so soothing. However, marriage didn't sound like the most appealing thing in the world to me. If you see my husband and I now, you would've never guessed that he had to put up a fight to get me to marry him. He was a boy who always dreamed of being a husband, trying to get the girl who thought marriage was too controlling and too much work being as though I now had to worry about someone else and THEIR feelings and emotions when I could barely handle my own. Somewhere along the lines of running from building to building to get to my next college class, I lost that idea of 10 kids and soon it became "I don't need any". My husband, just a young 19 year old boy, somehow was able to convince me that marriage could be a beautiful thing and me, who had just turned 20 the month before, was so infatuated with this new adventure, it became something I wanted to hold onto.. just the 2 of us. I knew he wanted children, I thought maybe I could do 1.. but I was so unsure of that.

A year into our marriage we became pregnant. He was so excited and surprisingly, so was I. It was the idea of my body being able to create and hold life that snapped me back into the reality of wanting my own little family. And then it happened.. at my very first ultrasound, I went in excited to see what my little peanut looked like. As the technician squeezed the ultrasound gel on my belly and moved the wand around, I could look at her face an tell something was wrong. She walked out of the room, trying hard to keep her poker face on, and when the doctor came in she told me my baby had no heartbeat. I remember my heart sinking all the way into my stomach and melting into nothing. My body felt like it sunk into the deepest hole and I don't think I could hear anything else that was said to me that day. It was during this time I realized what marriage came with... it came with a best friend. He stayed by my side, we leaned on each other, and as badly as I know he wanted to break down himself, he stayed strong for me. A year later, we got pregnant again, this time .. it was TWINS. We felt like God was giving us our baby back, and giving us a new one right along with it and again, we were excited. Then again we were faced with that horrible sentence: "Your baby has no heartbeat". My head started spinning, I felt myself falling back into the hole I just clawed my way out of, until I heard "Your other baby looks healthy". It was the most bitter-sweet appointment I have ever had in my life. We lost another one, but were blessed with one, our baby girl Jazmina. Before we could blink, a little less than 2 years later we became pregnant with our son Jibreel, and a little less than 2 years after that, another twin pregnancy; our baby girls who are both healthy.

Miracles happen everyday, you just don't realize that sometimes you have to go through a few tragedies that will ultimately prepare you for your beautiful outcome.

[ilamb1i]

My Guide - Soulmate

“Why won’t he take me?”

“Because he’s not ready.”

I looked down at myself, wondering what was there not to love. My heart then quickly sunk. What if there was nothing to love about me? Was I not enough? Am I ugly? HIDEOUS?!

My guide laughed, surprisingly joyous, yet her eyes showed playful scrutiny. She came up to me to hold my chin up and meet her gaze.

“My child. He already loves you. He will never find another like you. He will always remember you.” She spoke to me with such gentleness, almost a whisper. My eyes filled with unshed tears.

“Then why won’t he take me?”

“Because he is not ready. Just as you weren’t at 20 years old.” I lifted my eyebrows, urging her to continue. She laid her arms down, grasping her hands together at her waist.

“You are inseparable. No matter how far you go, there will be a string attached to the both of you. He will never love somebody else as much as he loves you. You want proof? It is in everything he does: the way he looks at you, the way he smiles, the way he lingers. He feels it. He just doesn’t know what it is. Who is to say that he will ever know, but someday he will realize….” She took a step closer. “You were made for each other. Don’t forget that. He is young and does not understand the beauty of you. You are his freedom.”

My guide turns around and grabs my hand to run towards a warped hole of green to stop in the Irish/English grass and show me….

“This is your past life with him. This is the life you felt happiest. You adore him now because he adored you then. You never forgot each other. You both waited. He had his heart broken. Give him time. Soon enough he will see. He will feel. One day, he won’t resist. He cannot, even now.”

I close my eyes to breathe, remember, and relish the purity of us.

The calm. The happiness. The innocence. The laughter. The love. 

Soon, we are once again, engulfed in white. Without realizing, my breath was heavy, shoulders lifting, head in hands, crying….

Overwhelmed with everything.

“Stand up, my child.”

I wiped my tears and slowly stood up to meet my guide.

“You are beautiful. Your love is your greatest gift. You have been blessed to meet not one, but two of your soulmates. Do not frown because one does not want you. He will always be there. Take care of yourself. You are a queen. Give everyone a reason to believe so.  Shine and radiance is your true self. Don’t ever be afraid to show it.”

When you are bright

He will see the light

In you

And he will follow

[kurogane2512]

ahhh it's quite alright, if you want you can pick whoever you're most comfortable to write for with the same troupe (if it's okay that is)

Late Again

Character: CEO! Ningguang

Synopsis: Your stoic and serious wife comes home late once again and sees you asleep on the dinner table.

Warnings: (18+) NSFW MINORS DNI, soft sex, fingering, fluff.

The typing of keys resonated in the CEO's office of the famed Qixing Corporation of Teyvat. It was close to 10:30 pm and all employees had already left the building, except for the CEO. It was quite rare for CEOs to be so hard-working but this is exactly what made CEO Ningguang achieve this position so quickly. Her eyes scanned the computer screen in front of her meticulously, sipping her coffee in between.

Her phone screen lit up for the nth time and she squinted her eyes at it, that's when she realized how late it was. She had promised you, her wife, that she'd come home early today and have dinner with you since she had been coming late for the entire week. She had thought of taking you out to make it up but work swept her away and she didn't realize she broke her promise once again.

She saw the several messages you sent starting from 7 pm asking her what she'd like to eat, if she'd like to go out and when she'd come back. The last message arrived 20 minutes ago which was a simple "Are you okay? Don't overwork yourself, dinner is ready btw :)" She sighed and pinched her temples, this wasn't a good habit of hers and had in fact ended many of her previous relationships.

She had sworn she'll treat you better and proposed to you 6 months ago, your relationship was a bit shaky due to how workaholic she was but you were very understanding which enabled her to always ease up around you and made her fall in love with you harder. She quickly packed her things and made her way into her car to drive to your shared complex.

She picked up a tub of your favorite ice-cream on the way to eat together with you as apology. She unlocked the door and went in only to be met by a dark hallway, she switched the lights on while removing her footwear and keeping her purse on the sofa then came to the dining room. Her eyes widened then softened seeing you sitting on the dining table, your face nestled between your folded arms and snoring peacefully.

She glanced beside you and saw 2 covered plates and felt extremely bad for doing this. She slowly walked to your side bent down near your face to brush aside some locks of hair behind your ear then kissed your forehead, the feeling of her fingers gently running through your hair caused you to open your eyes and be met with the face of your lovely wife.

"Ning! When did you come back?!" you exclaimed and stood up from your seat then looked at the clock in surprise.

"Oh, it's not too late. Good thing I didn't keep the food in the fridge!"

You smiled and made your way to the other side and picked up the plates to warm them in the microwave. Ningguang watched you in disbelief then walked behind you and embraced you, keeping her head in the crook of your neck.

"I'm sorry..." she whispered softly.

"It's alright, you are back now so we can still eat together. That's all that matters to me."

Ningguang's heart strings tug at your words and she began planting kisses on your neck, trailing up to your ear and nibbling the edge of it while her hand slid down under your pants and touched your clit. You squirmed and arched back slightly from the sudden sensation.

"W-Wait, Ning....Let's eat first...."

"That's what I'm doing, my dear~"

She sucked on your neck leaving visible red marks while her fingers sunk down into your core and began circling your clit. You gasped lightly and bent forward on the counter as it was getting difficult for you to stand up.

"Turn around for me, dear." Ningguang ordered and spun you around then pushed you on the counter, making you sit on top of it and nestled herself between your legs. She kissed your lips passionately while her hands grabbed the hem of your shirt and took it off then went on to grab your boobs and grope them while roughly kissing your neck and chest.

Your head shot back from the overwhelming sensations, it had been a while since you two did this and you missed this feeling so much. Her soft lips nipped every part of your chest and left fluttering marks on it, her hand traveled down to your core once again and unbuckled your pants then dipped inside your underwear.

"N-Ning...mhm~" you moaned at her fleeting touches. She loved this sight of you so much and didn't realize how much she had missed it.

"Leave everything to me, my dear. I'm going to give you a feast today~"

2 of her fingers plunged inside you, parting your wet walls and scissoring inside you. You arched back and wrapped your legs around her to pull her closer while her mouth continued sucking at one spot on your shoulder. "You are so delectable, my dear~" Her velvety voice rang in your ear and made you entranced, her fingers were relentlessly thrusting in and out of you now.

"Aaahn~ N-Ning....feels g-good....mh-!" she pressed her lips onto yours and swallowed all your moans and sounds. Her tongue dancing with yours while her fingers curled inside you and grazed your most sensitive parts.

"N-Ning, I'm c-close-oh~!"

"Cum for me, my love~"

She thrusted her slender fingers deep inside you and made you release your sweet juices, she gathered them around her fingers then brought them out and licked them all clean while deviously eyeing at you, causing you to get flustered.

"Delicious, this is the best meal for me~" she smiled then kissed you softly.

"L-Let me also eat my meal..." you shyly said and she chuckled.

"You have all the time in the world my dear since I'm here tomorrow as well."

You loved your wife so much.

I'M SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG ANON BUT THANK YOU FOR WAITING!! <3 I hope it is up to your expectations! :)

[thewriterg]

Doing it all for Love|P.H

pairing(s): Pope Heyward x Maybank reader, Pope Heyward x fem!reader, JJ Maybank x Twin!reader

Word count: 3.7k+

Summary: You're JJs twin sister and take the blame for Pope even after knowing what lies behind those county doors with your Father Luke Maybank, But in the end you were Doing it all for love.

Warning(s): Domestic abuse, Reader standing up to domestic violence, angst, underage smoking, control craving, language, smut if you squint-more like a tease-, fluffy ending kinda? (Please tell me if I missed anything)

A/n: -GIF is not mine- This fic was inspired by @tweedlydumbtweedlydoo and I recommend to listen to this while you read :)

You and JJ always joked when you were little about having twin telepathy but that was you both were six and now you were sixteen and sometimes you believed it could actually be true as you stood with JJ watching and interrogating Shoupe as he had Pope held against a county truck reading off his rights

It was the way his lips parted and how his eyes held layers of guilt they looked as they were multiplying by the second or how his face held that look like he was excepting what was about to come next

now that could be telepathy or you just knowing JJ better than he knew himself when he was about to do something stupid.

Well let's say it wasn't JJ this time

It wasn't him!.. It was me I was the one who stole the plug and sunk Topper's boat” You ‘confessed’ you never expected yourself to be so love sick. But he had already sacrificed so much you wouldn't let him fuck up that scholarship. whatever it took

“What are you doing?!” Pope exclaimed eyes wide

“Shut up Pope just shut up, Him and Jay tried to talk me out of it and get me to chill out but I was pissed he had just got jumped by those fucking apes from the eight and I reacted..So arrest me I did it he had nothing to do with it. He's a good kid, you know where I'm from.” You stated looking up a Shoupe holding out you wrist

"Yea I do, But you Best to better not be lying Maybank" Shoupe warned looking down at the teenager with a Rosen eyebrow "No sir I'm not" you answered while putting you hands behind your back Shoupe only responded with a nod as you swapped places with Pope the silver cuffs placed on your wrist

"Y/n what the hell are you thinking" JJ finally came to realization of what you were doing and he was fucking baffled you had such a big heart and were so so selfless -maybe a little too selfless-

“Telling the truth for once in my dam life” It was anything but the truth your eyes dart between the two boy’s mouthing a quick ‘love you’ before Shoupe was slamming you door and driving you off to the station

“Shit!”

Pope gripped his hair through his baseball hat spinning a 180 before throwing it on the dusty road storming off as Heyward called out for his son picking up his hat from the ground here you were taking a blame for someone else yet again

JJ reacting similar muttering a "fuck' while kicking some random crate before walking of to the boat John B let him borrow for the day

The drive of 20 minutes could’ve been easily mistaken for two hours as you finally arrived to the Police Station when Shoupe opened your car door and walked you into the Station ones

He started walking you down a hall to the holding center as it didn’t take long to get to said center because You were In front of a cell as Shoupe unlocked your handcuffs a hand on your shoulder to ground you

“Get in there little Firecracker” He encouraged with one of that many names you had/earned yourself on the Island along with Mini Maybank -even though you were older-, The crazy one, Mayback, y/n/n, and Mama pogue

You slowly walked into the cell rubbing your wrist as the metal bars closed behind your back

you began to pace running a hand through your hair before you sat down on the cold metal bench embedded into the concrete wall You felt like you could cry. But you restrained yourself when you saw the red blinking light coming from the security camera in the corner of your eye But instead you smiled

Smiled because Pope still had his scholarship

Smiled because JJ wasn’t in this position

Smiled because your friends were okay and just because you could

You were in a office desk chair hands behind your head as you looked out of the cool toned white blinds enjoying the new scenery that wasn’t the cold gray room -even thought you were there for less than 2 hours-

“You and Your Brother are like Little Rock’s in my shoe” Peterkin snapped bursting through the door ruining the peaceful silence you found yourself enjoying

“I missed you too Peterkin, But maybe you should watch where your stepping” You Mumbled looking at the older woman in front of you as she sat down and began to pull out different file case folders

“Unlawful discharge with firearm” That was JJ

“Trespass on protected habitat” That was supposedly you

“Felony destruction of property” That was also supposedly you

“Motor vehicle theft” That was JJ

“Disorderly Conduct” That was actually you

“And Carjacking 2010 Malibu” That was you and JJ

“All in less than two weeks you two are on a role aren’t you? The future how you gonna feel when you sitting up in juvenile prison in Waynesburg” Peterkin continued when she didn’t get a response it was more of a statement than a question

you knew she was trying to get under you skin that was sealed tight but it was like she were going back and reopening the stitches

“How are you gonna feel little Firecracker how are they gonna Feel when you go hmm? Loose control, order, sanity even Especially that brother of yours with the road he’s going down he might follow right behind you”

Your head snapped up at the mention of JJ you didn’t care about yourself getting talked about but When it came to JJ fuck a different ball park. That was a different equator

“Don’t talk about my brother Peterkin” Your hissed glaring at the Older Woman behind you a scowl plastered on your face

“You don’t even like to think about it do you, the possibilities? Then you have to stop this Y/n your life is going to end before it even starts how their life will end” Peterkin continued as you stared out the windows eyes blurry with tears of frustration

She signed softly as she slid out of the office and into Shoupe’s letting you have a moment to breathe and pick up you thoughts “Find anything about that Merchant”

“No, but hopefully I got through that thick skull of hers” Peterkin muttered looking down at the pictures of the cut up intruders on Shoupes desk both officers deep in thought

It was a knock on the door that had the officers train of thought broken as the door slowly opened revealing another officer

“Someone’s here for her” The officer stated nodding her head to the other office that they could all see you through still staring out of the window

“Get out of my office somebody’s here for you”

At the sound of Peterkins voice your attention from the window vanished as you just respond with a nod as she walked you out the office letting the other officer take you up to the front desk

“Are you her guardian?”

“Sorry to say I’m her father” Luke spat and looked back at with you with a glare as his nose twitched but your shoes and the tiled floor seemed more interesting at the time

The officer summed up the charges and release with Restitution and if your father wasn’t upset than he was pissed now

“Restitution?!”

“Pay for what she broke, its apart of the plea” The officer confirmed as you father Looked back at you once more you took a second to meet his glare as you bit your lip while doing so while he signed the release papers growling at you to get out the door

“I’ll pay you back” you whispered hesitant to get in the car with your own father as you hands started to shake contemplating to make a run for it

“You dam right you will. Get you ass in the car now” Luke exclaimed as he gets in the truck and slams the door

TW: ABUSE

You took a shaky breath before you opened the car door sliding over to shut it as Luke started the car looking out the windshield “I’m gonna pa-” Before you could respond Luke through a jab to your jaw your blood splattering on the window as the car shook at the sudden movement

“THIRTY. THOUSAND. DOLLARS” You were getting blows thrown everywhere You cheek, Your Jaw, Your chest, Your Mouth.

You crawled up into the seat as he drove the both of you home looking out the window as you let silent tears slip from you eyes why couldn’t he just love you if he couldn’t love you, you at least wished he could love JJ you would sacrifice anything for JJ he was your twin your little brother

The first thing you noticed as you both pulled into the driveway was JJs bike ‘Not the time Jay’ As crazy as it sounds you and JJ were never together when your father decided to take out his frustrations on the both of you now you had to talk each other out of committing first degree murder but that was different story

you were deep in thought and didn’t immediately get out of the car which only angered you father more when he pulled opened your door yanking you by you hair as you groaned in pain before throwing you towards the dirt

“You stupid bitch! you cost me a lot of money tonight!”

“I know I’ll pay you back” you hissed coughing up some of the dirt that made its way to your lungs Luke didn’t respond as he threw a kick to your gut making you whimper at the newfound pain in your stomach as JJ came running out of the house

“Stop it! Leave her alone!”

“Stay out of this boy or I’ll beat you too!” Your ‘Father’ pointed a finger at JJ as his nose scrunched “Then do it Me instead of her!” He pushed Luke in the chest taking the attention from you onto his self

“JJ don’t!” You exclaimed as you brought yourself From the ground as Luke threw a jab to JJs Jaw

You didn’t know what it was but in the moment that wasn’t you father it could’ve been the way he stumbled back or how his head snapped back all you saw was red

You ran towards Luke jumping on his back and onto his shoulders wrapping your legs around his neck as you threw punches to each side of his jaw from the back of his own head your knuckles were sure to get bruised

“DON’T. FUCKING. TOUCH. HIM.”

you were full blown screaming at this point throwing punches anywhere that you could reach as you both were getting further away from JJ and closer to the house

When JJ closed his eyes waiting for another blow coming to his cheek and didn’t get one had him peeking through his closed eyes but once her heard your screaming from across the yard had JJ snapping his eyes open and sprinting across the yard to get to you

Luke ended up tripping over something causing you both to end up tipping over Luke breaking your fall completely as you didn't pay any attention to it as you kept beating the absolute shit of your father ‘Oh How the tables have turned’

“I. WILL. FUCKING. KILL. YOU."

You felt like if you threw one more punch you would break your fucking wrist but you were to busy running off of adrenaline to care when you suddenly felt a sharp pain in you calf

he fucking bit you.

You didn't know where you mind went but there were trash bags on the floor and Luke was starting to get the upper hand all you saw was that open trash bag..

With that empty vodka bottle.

That empty vodka bottle that was once In one piece shattered into a thousand pieces over your Fathers head as he fell unconscious blood was everywhere on his head, on the ground, on your hand, splattered on your face

You felt a pair of arms wrap around your torso picking you up from on top of Luke while your reflex to kick and scream -which you did- until you were turned around and met with the worried face of JJ

You hurriedly rubbed the small amount of blood from your hands to you blue Jean denim shorts and to JJs cheek making sure not to grab is jaw to tight as you searched his body for anymore bruises or scratches that weren’t noticeable at first glance

“I’m okay, I promise”

Of course he wanted to yell and scream how badass that was or how stupid you were for taking Popes place -that he was going to surely take himself- but he restrained himself you were in that mindset and needed everything to be quiet and simple so he was as quiet as he could bring himself to be

You responded with grabbing JJs arm not hard enough to drag him but Firm so he would follow you

Once you both reached the end of the driveway you hopped on the front of JJs bike ready for him to follow in suite, Now JJ wanted to argue because he thought you weren’t in the correct headspace to drive his baby bike but he also knew that arguing with you right now was a death sentence

And he chooses to live another day.

So he hopped on the bike as you sped away from your own house and driveway and to the chateau

You slowly slipped off of JJs bike the pain in your ribs becoming noticeable JJ doing the same behind you he couldn’t lie he was kinda scared you hadn’t acknowledged him since your frantic check over back at your house

“Don’t pull that shit again JJ because the next time that man puts his hands on you I will gladly go to jail for First degree murder” The tone that you held sent a chill down JJs spine as he wrapped his arm around your waist helping you walk towards John Bs house

Pope ran out of the Chateau John B and Kie hot on his heels “What happened?! Are you two okay?”

“Why would you do that?! Why would you take my place?”

Before JJ could warn anyone what mindset you were trying easing out of Pope ended up switching places with JJ making your nose scrunch up in pain as you closed your eyes taking a deep breath at the pain in your stomach

“Pope I am trying my best but I need you to get the fuck off of me” you practically pried Popes arm from yourself you were trying to fight against it but it felt like you were slipping deeper and deeper into you own mind as you walked away from the group and into the chateau

Everyone turned to JJ with a questioning look waiting for an explanation on what just happened leaving JJ to sigh and point to his head it took the pogues a minute but John B finally let out an “oh. Oh!” Of realization the other pogues doing the same

They followed you into the house to see you sitting at the counter on a barstool rolling up a J almost ready to smoke it as you finished rolling the thin paper with your tongue and finger tips before taking a lighter from the counter that JJ had probably left lighting the Joint taking it between your lips letting the smoke settle in your lungs

The pogues watched you carefully the whole time you never really smoked or drank not that you thought it was bad or anything -you didn’t mine a couple Js or beers every once in a while yourself- it was that you were usually the designated driver and caretaker of the pogues after a kegger or party

You felt their gaze on you and if anything it annoyed you when anyone else smoked it was a fucking party but when you touched a joint it always has to be something wrong it felt like a depression session

“Could you all stop looking at me like I need grip socks” you mumbled looking them dead in there eyes blood still splattered on your face you eyes looking dull and red

Before anyone could reply you were already walking towards the group grabbing JJ and dragging him to the restroom as you pushed him to the toilet grabbing the first aid kit under the sink

There was a good moment of silence before JJ had the balls to speak up while you were in between his legs cleaning the cuts on his face and body

“Thank you for standing up for me” He muttered looking up at you through his wet eyelashes that he may or may not have let a few tears through

You acknowledge him with a hum finishing up on his last cut with a bandaid before speaking “Your my little brother… there’s no reason for you to thank me”

“Your older than me by like twenty minutes y/n” He muttered playfully a small smirk on his face his eyes never leaving your own

“Twenty three if we’re being technical JJ” you muttered back throwing away the medical trash you used in the mini trash can on the side of the counter

“I love you” JJ was off of the toilet that you used as a chair and looking at you through the mirror

“I love you too Jay” you softly smiled at your brother, God did JJ love to see you smile especially when less than 10 minutes ago you looked like you never would again

“It’s that country club shit tonight, you should get going”

“I’m not leaving you here like this y/n” JJ argued pointing a finger at your bruising appearance

“It’s okay, you have to pay off the last kegger I’ll clean her up”

The pogues were standing at the door way of the bathroom as Pope spoke up from his position in the middle of John B and Kie the pair needed to get going as Kie knew her mom was going to get pissed if she was late and John B needed to meet with Sarah had to bail out Kie at the end of the event

JJ looked skeptical for a while until Kie gave him that look his eyes went wide for a moment before he terribly hid his smile before nodding his head and soon the trio left for the rest of the night

You and Pope just stared at each other for a minute before you cleared your throat snapping Pope out of his gaze

“I’m gonna take a shower” You muttered before closing the door as the sound of the shower could be heard from outside of the door Pope stood there for a moment before he decided to prep for what he would need to clean you up

So he got a hoodie and sweatpants from JJs ‘room’ and some underwear and a tank top from your own with a towel from the hall closet before he quietly slipped into the bathroom as he tried not to broil alive and sat the items on the sink and grabbed the first aid kit from under the counter and slipped back out of the bathroom and into the kitchen of the house

Grabbing a water bottle from the fridge and throwing some ice in a bowl Pope thought if you would need anything else but as he looked through the fridge and cabinets and only saw snacks he couldn’t really put anything together so he did what he could apples,oranges and strawberries a basic fruit bowl

You turned off the shower hoping out of the Tub as you stared at the clothes and Towel that sat on the sink ‘Pope was in here’ that was all you could bring yourself to think about as you took the towel off the counter to dry off slipping on your undergarments and what you concluded were JJs clothes

You walked to you ‘room’ drooping your clothes in the basket before making your way to the living room your socks protecting your feet from the cold ground

Pope was sitting on the couch scrolling through emails as you cleared your throat to alert him of your presence making him look up from his phone to you turning off the device adverting his full attention to you

“I um got stuff to clean you up with and some fruit and water” Pope moved slightly to the left revealing a small bowl of fruit, a first aid kit, a bowl of ice, and small towels

“Thank you”

Pope had you sit down on the couch as he started off with you face which shockingly wasn’t that bad with only a busted lip, a cut above you eyebrow and bruised cheek as you just signed in content nibbling on an orange slice

It took for Pope to hit the cut above your brow bone with the hydrogen peroxide that had your hands flying to his hips squeezing them tight as you groaned in pain and pushed your face into his shirt that distracted the pain with pressure

Your sudden movements had Pope coming to a holt with cleaning you cuts with your face pressed deep in his shirt and hands squeezing his hips as he held back a groan of his own because you had a fucking grip

“I’m sorry I should’ve gave you a warning” Pope apologized looking down at the back of your head because your face was still implanted in his shirt as he watched as your tense muscles fall before you lifted your head from the boys torso and dropped you hands from his hips and Pope would lie if he said he didn’t miss your touch even though if it was somewhat painful

If anything that made it better

“No It’s fine. I’m sorry I just didn’t expect it” You awkwardly muttered looking anywhere but Popes face as you somewhat missed the feeling of how his hips buckled into your hand

Time passed as Pope had to ice your ribs and this is the part where he had to get on his knees to look on what part of your torso he was icing because he was taller than you and even more giant when he was standing next to a sitting you

So there you two were

you just sitting there holding JJs your hoodie up while Pope was icing your torso with the ice in a hand towel so you didn’t get a cold burn or Frost bite Pope was holding the towel to different places on your stomach when he placed the towel just below the valley of your chest resulting you to let out a groan mixed with a moan

and It was more moan then groan

“Shit” you mumbled throwing you head back on the back of the couch as pope muttered a ‘sorry’

Now Pope don’t know what In the fucking universe possessed him to do this but he contemplated it in his head for a while before he thought to himself ‘fuck it’

-well not exactly like that it’s Pope for crying out loud-

When he removed the ice from the middle of your stomach as he swapped places with the ice replacing it with his lips as he prepared soft kisses down you stomach making sure to go slow in case you wanted him to stop -which you didn’t-

It was a sudden spot above your V line that Pope kissed his lips lingering longer than the previous places making your hands fly to his hair pushing his face closer to it

Pope went from kissing the Top of your V line to the bottom of your clothed cunt you let out a low groan at his sudden actions

“Pope shit what are you doing?” you mumbled as your knuckles began to turn light at how hard you were squeezing his head deeper into yourself

“Taking care of you” and thats exactly what he did the rest of the night take care of you

[mypoisonedvine]

𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖈𝖊 I || professor!helmut zemo x reader

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞 : history is so much more interesting when he’s teaching it.  you’d better be careful before the two of you end up with a history of your own.

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙 : 6k

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 : smut (incl. semi-public sex in an office and oral f receiving), significant age gap (reader is 20, zemo is 39; it isn’t actually mentioned though but it comes up in the next part), the slightest bit of angst?, nearly pwp at this point lol

                                    You wouldn’t know it by the way you were enraptured with his lecture, but you weren’t even a history major.  

Quite far from it, really, well outside of the college of liberal arts, and yet here you were in the front row, watching him gesture over a large map of Western Europe while he explained the sociocultural impacts of the Treaty of Versailles.

It was probably pretty obvious why you took such interest in all this, though.  After all, you were the only one who dressed as well as he did, your blazers and skirts and loafers standing out amongst a sea of hoodies and sweats and flip-flops; and, you were the only one who paid close attention and yet never seemed to be taking any notes…

Why would you, after all?  Looking away to write in your notebook would mean missing out on all the fun, and unfortunately you had found that when you copied down the words he spoke, his accent was not retained in writing.

Some kid in the back of the class had asked about his accent the first day; you thought it was kind of a rude question, if you were being honest, but he didn’t seem to mind too much (if perhaps a bit surprised that anyone cared).  He explained he was from a small country called Sokovia, but that his accent was a bit unique since he spoke Russian, German, Spanish, and Italian as well.

Because of course he did.  Like he was specifically designed to target all your weaknesses.

“Well, I could talk about that for the rest of the evening but I’ll spare you all and let you out a bit early today, how does that sound?” Professor Zemo offered.  The other students weakly cheered, a few claps here and there as you heard binders shutting and backpacks being zipped, but you were disappointed.  You didn’t want to go back to your dorm, all you were going to do there was think about him anyways.

Damn, I’ve really got it bad, you thought to yourself, shaking your head as you stood up and gathering your things, slinging your bag over your shoulder.  You glanced up at the podium where another student was chatting with Professor Zemo, and either he said something really funny or she was trying way too hard to flirt with him.  You rolled your eyes, irritated by the display and yet envious of her audacity to just go up there and talk to him.  Imagine having a crush and actually being able to look them in the eye and hold a conversation; you could barely do that with people you didn’t happen to find attractive.

Just as you were about to make it out the door, you heard your name and spun around.  You were shocked to realize it was the Professor trying to get your attention.  If only you’d thought to pretend you hadn’t heard him.

“Could I speak with you for a moment?” he requested, motioning you over with two curled fingers.  With a swallow and a nod, you stepped out of the flow of students exiting into the hallway and approached the desk at the front of the room.

“What is it?” you asked.

“I just wanted to discuss your most recent paper, if you have some time,” he explained, and your heart sunk.  Of course it was garbage, you’d written the whole thing last minute during a near-all-nighter.  “I still have the copy you turned in here in my bag.”

“Right, of course— sure,” you nodded.  By now the classroom was empty spare for the two of you, your words echoing slightly; presumably that was intentional, since these places were built for acoustics, but it made you worry you’d have to hear whatever criticism he had for you multiple times.

He pulled out the slightly-wrinkled paper and took his glasses off of his vest to wear (fuck, did he have to wear the glasses, just to personally attack you?) as he glanced over the top page before folding it over the staple.

“This essay,” he continued, “it’s—”

Ridiculous.  Idiotic.  A blight on humanity and a waste of printer ink.

“Fascinating,” he finished, surprising you.  “After I read it, I searched your student profile on my office computer—”

You gulped, trying not to take that as a compliment.

“I’m looking at your information and I’m seeing you aren’t even a history major— is this a mistake, when it says your major is computer science?”

“No, that’s my major,” you nodded.

“Well, that’s a shame,” he decided, “because you have some really interesting ideas in here, clearly you must have studied history before.”

“I mean, not really,” you shrugged.  “I didn’t even care that much about history until, you know, you...r class,” you finished quickly, realizing it sounded too odd otherwise.

And that smile, the way he looked down at the floor suddenly, was he blushing?  “Thank you.  I’m always… glad to inspire.”

If only you knew everything you’d inspired in me, Professor.

“If you didn’t care about history, what would motivate you to register for an honors history seminar?” he asked suddenly.  

“Well…” you trailed off, reaching up to scratch the back of your neck as you dodged his gaze.

“It couldn’t possibly be because I’m teaching it,” he realized.

“I came to your talk last year, the one you did about the Sokovian civil war,” you finally admitted, letting out a lungful of air as you said it and looking up at him sheepishly.

“Ah,” he nodded, “yes, that might make a bit more sense.  But we still haven’t found the real reason, have we?”  His eyebrow raised slightly and you felt like he was toying with you— but you liked it, the shiver that ran up your spine made that obvious.  “Because the question remains of what would possess a computer science student to take time out of her busy schedule on a Friday night— if I recall the night correctly— to listen to some stuffy visiting scholar talk about a bloody war in a country she may not have even heard of before.”

“My friend brought me,” you defended.

“Under what guise?” he pressed.

“She… may have mentioned something about… a cute professor with a sexy accent…” you stammered, cringing slightly as you spared a glance back up at him.  He was staring back at you with the most bewildering expression.  His eyes said ‘you thought I was cute?’, and yet his smile said ‘I knew it.’

“You must’ve been horribly disappointed when I took the stage,” he finally replied, voice a bit lower, softer, not echoing around the room anymore.  

“Not at all,” you returned, almost below your breath now, and suddenly you became very aware that you were standing too close to him, but you couldn’t move away, you couldn’t even look away anymore.  “I’m here, aren’t I?  Taking your class?”

“And you make it nearly impossible to focus, did you know that?  I swear your eyes never leave me, I can feel them on me.  It’s quite unfair, because I can’t stare back at you no matter how much I want to.”

Just as you looked down at his lips and back up to his eyes, which seemed to be following a similar pattern on your own face, just when you thought this might be it and you were about to do something you really shouldn’t (but really wanted to), you heard the door open behind you and you spun around so fast you nearly hurt your neck.

“Oh,” the man in the doorway mumbled, apparently surprised to see you enough to nearly drop the papers tucked under his arm.  “I’m teaching the next class in here— Honors History of Islam?”

“Professor Waters, yes, my apologies,” Zemo nodded, “we were just… our discussion ran a bit long, we’ll get out of your way.”

You and Zemo awkwardly gathered your things and made a dash for the door as the older professor took his place at the podium.  Once the two of you were out in the hall, you let out a sigh and gave each other a glance, like you were each waiting for the other to either acknowledge or ignore what had just (almost) happened.

“I have my next class across campus in a half hour,” he remembered suddenly, lifting his arm and pulling back the brown sleeve of his coat to look at his watch.  

“Right, you should… get to that,” you nodded.

“Walk with me?” he proposed, and you hoped your smile wasn’t as beaming as it felt.  

“I’d love to.”

So maybe you ended up skipping your evening class to sit in the back of his History of England course.  And, perhaps, he ended that one early, too, this time to buy you coffee at the student center; and your discussion ended up going on so long that the coffee shop closed and you had to go to his office to finish the conversation.

But, in a certain sense, it could be argued that you never really got a chance to finish that conversation after all… because a few moments after he shut the door to his office, you, for lack of a better term, jumped his bones.

“Fuck,” he mumbled against your lips as you pulled him closer by his jacket, “we can’t do this.”

You nodded, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck.  “Mhm, yeah, you’re right,” you agreed breathlessly.

His hands took their place at your waist as you both stepped back, the back of your legs bumping into his desk which you jumped up slightly to sit on.

“I mean, we really can’t do this,” he continued, kissing your neck instead now while your legs wrapped around his hips, your skirt riding up slightly, your fingers fumbling with the buttons on his collar.  “I want to, overwhelmingly so, but we can’t.”

“I know,” you sighed; your head fell back when his teeth grazed over your pulse, and his hand was right there to catch it and hold it up, gripping the back of your neck.

“This absolutely cannot happen,” he groaned when your legs pulled him closer, something hard and hot pressing up against your thigh through his trousers and you were really hoping it wasn’t just his cell phone.

Then he rocked his hips, just barely, and you felt the outline of the ridge of his head and it was definitely not his phone unless he had the most suggestively-shaped phone case of all time.  You gasped and grabbed his face to kiss him again, shamelessly desperate now, weaving your fingers into the hair just above the back of his neck.

By now you had managed to get a few of his buttons open so when you slid your fingers down from time to time, they ran over his chest and the patch of dark blonde hair there.  Funny enough, you couldn’t remember having any strong opinions on chest hair before this afternoon, but now you felt your walls fluttering around nothing.  

He helped you shed your blazer just before tossing his own coat aside, never breaking the kiss, holding your face gently while he pushed you down to lay on his desk— he reached behind you to clear a few stray papers out of the way first.  

Your back hit the glossy wood and his weight pinned you down, rough hands sliding up your legs and under your skirt as you tried to push your hips up for more friction where you needed him most.

He pushed your hips back down, not too roughly but definitely enough to get your attention, before sliding his hands up your skirt again where he toyed with the hem of your panties.

You wanted to say something, more specifically you wanted to beg him to touch you, but you had this fear that if you spoke now it would all become real and he would stop because, as he had so poignantly noted, this can’t happen.  And both of you knew that… so maybe it would be easier to let it happen if neither of you really acknowledged it.

Luckily, he didn’t tease you too long, reaching under the fabric and swiping the rough pads of his fingers over your slickened folds.  You choked on your gasp, accidentally digging your nails into his shoulders when he drew delicate circles around your clit.  All at once, he suddenly pushed those fingers right inside you and your back arched; you needed so much more than just his fingers but the way they twisted and curled against your walls was nearly perfect as well.  

They didn’t stay long, quickly pulling back as you watched him quickly open his trousers just before you felt the head of him pushing up to your entrance.

His eyes met yours, dark with need, yet somehow clearly asking you for permission, making sure this was what you wanted: and fuck, you wanted it more than anything.  The moment that you nodded, he began to push forward— slow and deliberate, but unyielding.  

Perhaps as a perfect healthy college student in a male-dominated major, you had no real excuse for it to have been so long since you’d had sex.  As you liked to put it: dating as a woman in computer science means the odds are good but the goods are odd.  Truth be told, you weren’t sure at this point if having had sex any time in the past year would’ve prepared you for him anyway.  It felt like he was forging a new path inside you— certainly a wider one than anyone else ever had since he was so thick.  

With his hips fully seated against yours, the tip of his cock just reached the end of you, just barely brushed over those sensitive spots you didn’t even know you had before.

It stung a bit to be filled this thoroughly, so it was no wonder you were biting down on your lip hard enough to bruise it, your fingers clutching at his shirt tightly.

“Am I hurting you?” he whispered, finally breaking the silence, voice strained like he was struggling just as much as you were (though in an entirely different way).

“A little,” you admitted.  “Please don’t stop.”

He groaned a few curses as he started to move back, and forth, and so slow you could hardly stand it.  

“Fuck,” you breathed, “oh my god, harder, please…”

A little smile crossed his face, a sharp exhale almost like a laugh, and it made your cheeks burn even hotter than they already were.  But, he obeyed, regardless, more aggressive in his movements yet not any faster as he held your hips to keep you from sliding across the desk’s glossy wood surface.

Your moans were starting to echo around the office’s beige walls at this point, and he snarled as he bit down on your neck.  “You need to stay quiet,” he hissed in your ear.  “Can you do that for me?  Can you stay quiet even when I’m making you feel so good?”

“I-I’m trying,” you whimpered, “your cock is… so deep…”

“Oh, I know,” he cooed, voice heavy with faux pity, “poor thing, you can’t take it?”

“No!” you yelped.  “I can take it!  Please, please don’t stop.”

“I won’t have to if you stay quiet, darling, we can’t have somebody hearing you now can we?” he chuckled, licking and sucking at your pulse point as your eyes rolled back in your head.  “We can’t have somebody hearing you cry for me, and coming in here, and seeing you laying on my desk getting fucked by your professor, right?”

What the hell was wrong with you that that idea actually turned you on?  Why did it actually make you want to moan louder until everyone could hear you?

And when his cock speared right against that spongy spot inside you, you did exactly that and he had to suddenly clamp his hand down over your mouth.

“Fuck,” he growled, “you’re going to get us both in trouble.”

Your attempts at apologies were totally incomprehensible with his hand over your mouth, not that they were likely to have made much sense either way.

Blinking your eyes shut, your legs began to quiver slightly as he rutted into you, your toes curling inside your loafers.  You felt so full you could hardly stand it, stretched so wide that you were forced to feel every detail of his cock as it filled you.  Already your walls were bearing down on him; you couldn’t help it, it was like your body was just his instrument now and instinct had taken control of your movements.  

His accent was definitely stronger now as he whispered in your ear, praising you gruffly.  You knew from the beginning that you loved high marks and encouragement from your teachers, but this… this was different, and you hadn't known how much it would affect you.

"Good girl," he breathed, "you're taking me so well, draga, you feel so perfect around me."

You whined from behind his hand and he chuckled at your obvious neediness.

"You like making me feel good, darling?" he presumed, his smile pressing against your neck between nipping kisses to your pulse point.  "You like knowing that I can barely take this tight cunt gripping me so well, that I'm already addicted to your precious body and want to fill it with my seed?"

With your eyes rolling back in your head you nodded feverishly, heavy in your state of total delirium as he pumped his cock deep into you over and over.

You reached up to try to pull his hand away from your mouth, and he met your gaze with fire in his eyes.

“If I take my hand away, will you be good?” he challenged, and you nodded feverishly.  He was a bit hesitant but slowly moved his hand down, and though you did have to keep biting your lip, you managed to restrain yourself.

Every drag of the ridge of his head inside you was somehow more intense than the last, somehow hitting right at your spot and it was like each rough thrust knocked his name out of your mind and onto your lips until you were chanting it like a prayer, or a plea.

And each time you said it, he fucked you harder, snarling and whispering your name back to you a few times, in between little praises; "Beautiful," he mumbled, "such a sweet little girl… such a perfect cunt."

“I— fuck, I’m gonna—” you stammered your warning.  

“Will you come for me?” he finished for you, and you nodded quickly.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you hissed.

It was obvious just by the build-up that you were going to come hard, pleasure tightening in your core until you were sure that it would spill over but it just kept going, making you wonder if it would ever reach the breaking point.

And oh boy did it, it slammed into you in fact, and your legs quivered as you struggled for air.  He growled in your ear, fucking you harder through it all, stroking every place that had only become even more sensitive.  The moment you could form words again, you were wasting the ability on a string of swears and promises you couldn’t keep.

“Yours, fuck, it’s yours,” you sobbed.  He chuckled a little, pulling back to examine your face which must have given away how fucked-out and cockdrunk you were already.

“Say it again,” he demanded darkly, holding you tighter, fucking you a bit more deliberately though not any less aggressively.

“Yours,” you gasped, cut off by a rough and dominating kiss.  Your moans were lost to his tongue but he didn’t need them to know you were coming, the way your body gripped him tighter than ever was sign enough.

“So good,” he whispered against your lips, “you’re doing so good for me…”

His words washed over your skin and soothed you like a salve, bringing some relief from the overwhelming feelings his body was assaulting yours with.

All things considered, he was still moving rather slowly, each of his thrusts measured and patient, and never really changing speed even as you were coming around him.  Weak little cries fell from your throat each time his hips met yours and the tip of his cock kissed the deepest parts of you.

Your body went limp in his arms and you hadn't noticed before how good it felt for him to hold you, for his strong hands to support you like it was nothing.  His thumb gently stroked your back through your shirt and you mewled weakly into his shoulder.

"So good, draga, so fucking good," he mumbled, holding you closer.

"Please… faster," you whimpered, "I want you to come."

"Is that what you want?" he taunted, ignoring the way you nodded immediately.  "You want to make me come, darling?"

"Yes, please, want it so much," you gasped.

He finally sped up, though it was still nothing like the lightning-speed jackhammering you were used to from guys your age: it was better, certainly, especially when he lifted your leg onto his shoulder and pushed so deep you saw stars.

The second one seemed to hit you all at once, almost out of nowhere, and you heard yourself mumble, “Professor, I’m coming.”  It sounded a bit pitiful, the way you said it, but he apparently didn’t mind as you felt him nod encouragingly in the crook of your neck.

You felt totally drained by now, exhausted even though all you’d been doing was lying there and taking it, but you knew he wasn’t done with you yet.  But, if the way his thrusts were becoming more desperate and erratic were anything to go by, he might be done with you soon.

"I'm going to come inside you," he groaned against your ear.  You were, like, 99.9% sure that if you told him not to, he would pull out, but the way that he phrased it, like a demand, like you didn't have a choice and he would do it either way… it had an effect on you, one he noticed when your channel tightened around him instantly.  "Oh, you like that idea, hm?  You want to be full of my come?  Your sweet little cunt is already trying to milk every drop from me."

"Yes," you breathed, "fuck, I want your come in me, please!"

He sped up quite a bit then, each slam of his hips into yours making you choke on a whine, your arms weakly clinging onto him for dear life.

You could feel his cock swelling, flexing, pushing your body to its limits as he moaned lowly through his teeth, streams of come making you feel warm and full.

He didn't stop until every drop was in you, thrusting in time with each pump of his release until he slowed to a stop.

Strands of hair fell into his face as he hung his head, panting hard and fast.  You melted back onto the desk, realizing this might be the first time in a solid half hour your back wasn’t arched.

It was a bit of a struggle to keep your eyes open against the heavy fog of afterglow that filled your mind; you couldn’t remember the last time you felt so… satiated.  As a college student, you were always thinking about the next assignment, mentally re-evaluating your calendar, or preparing for something— and usually all on less than six hours of sleep.

But now your mind was as close to a blank slate as it had been in at least a decade.  Even though you probably should’ve been, you weren’t even thinking about the potential consequences of this, the implications, the risks.  No, you were just staring up at him, thinking about kissing him again.

He would have to lean down for that, though; there was no way you were going to sit up now.

You hadn't even noticed that you had closed your eyes, almost falling asleep right there on his desk, until you felt his hand cradle your face softly, a calloused thumb rubbing over your cheek.

In unison, the both of you sighed deeply.

As much as it felt like a real effort, you blinked open your eyes and looked up at him, watching him comb his fingers through his hair.  It only messed up the style even further yet he looked better than ever.

He slowly moved his hips back, leaving you annoyingly empty, and readjusted himself until he almost looked put together again… but his collar was still uneven and his lips still looked bitten and there was still that precious pinkish hue on his cheeks.  If anyone else saw him in this state, they’d either know what happened between you two or think he’d just run across campus or something.

If anyone else saw him in this state, you’d be a little jealous, to be totally honest.

You got back to work trying to right your appearance as well, though you knew the best you could hope for was only mildly presentable; he looked at you like you’d never looked better, though.

“Well, this was fun,” you chuckled breathlessly, “but it’s getting pretty late and I have an eight a.m. tomorrow…”

“Yeah, so do I,” he nodded, glancing away.  

You picked up your bag from where you’d dropped it by the door, lifting the strap over your shoulder and starting to turn to leave.

"I… I should walk you back to your dorm," he announced, making you smile.

"That's sweet, but save your chivalry.  I can take care of myself just fine."

"But—"

"I think it's safer if we're not seen together walking together by my dorm," you interjected, "especially when I'm walking a little funny…"

"I hope I didn't hurt you," he winced sympathetically.

"No, trust me, that was… exactly what I needed," you breathed.  He smiled a little, looking down at the floor.

"Then I'll see you in class," he nodded, watching you closely as you stepped back and picked up your bag, starting to leave his office with one last small wave goodbye.  “Wait, wait!” he whispered harshly just before you could let go of his door, and you giggled as he leaned out into the hall and glanced around to make sure no one was nearby.  

When he confirmed the coast was clear, he smiled and grabbed your face with one hand, pulling you into a sudden kiss.  And you smiled too— you couldn’t help it— as you kissed him back, almost ready for him to drag you back into that office and start this all over again.  He did let you go, though, with one more whispered ‘goodnight’ and a look that made your heart do little somersaults.

As you finally did make your way back to your dorm, you tried to figure out if that was a goodbye kiss or a ‘see you soon’ kiss.  Or maybe a ‘thanks for the one-time office quickie’ kiss?  But you didn’t know enough about this sort of thing to know if that was even an option.

All you did know was that you really hoped it wasn’t the last kiss you’d have with him.

Can I speak to you in my office today after class?  Thank you.

-Z

You may ask yourself: can one simple email, in only thirteen words, strike fear into the hearts of those who read it?  And the answer is yes, assuming that email is from Professor Helmut Zemo and read by the lovestruck student who slept with him two days ago and hasn't stopped thinking about it since.

Only one of a few things could happen in his office after class, and there was a massive gap between the best and worst case scenarios.  You dressed for the best but prepared yourself psychologically for the worst.

You caught him staring as you walked past the teaching podium to your seat in the front; you just hoped nobody else caught him.  And if you'd thought paying attention in class was tough before, boy oh boy was it a challenge now.  The nerves of what he wanted to discuss with you were bad enough alone, but that combined with memories from two days earlier randomly assaulting your psyche was just overwhelming.

When he pointed at the map with two fingers, you could remember exactly how those fingers had felt inside you, twisting and curling and getting you ready for his cock.

When he spoke, you could hear the difference in his voice compared to how he groaned out his praises while he was fucking you within a damn inch of your life.

And every once in a while, when he couldn’t help but glance at you for a moment, his gaze burned right through you; you were helpless to those brown eyes, completely paralyzed by them, and it must’ve been hours of that before class finally ended.

For the first time, you were the first person out the door when he released the class.  As much as it was going to be a little bit weird to beat him to his office, it was certainly better than any of your other options.  There was a chair in the hall beside the door, and you took a seat and pretended to read a book just to look busy (there was no way you could actually turn symbols on a page into readable language right now, not when you knew he’d be here any minute to talk about… something).

Your peripheral caught him coming down the hall, but you pretended to be deeply immersed in your book until he was right beside you, unlocking his door and opening it for you and himself.  Tucking your book away and following him inside, you found him already staring at you, expression completely unreadable.  Your gut sank in anticipation of whatever conversation this was going to become, and a moment passed in heavy silence.

"Hi," you greeted plainly, letting out a quick breath.

"Hi," he returned.  "Close the door behind you."

You nodded and did as you were told, quietly pushing the wood back until the door latched before approaching where he had come to stand beside his desk.  Though you didn't originally intend to, you found yourself standing a bit too close.

"I'm not quite sure where to start," he admitted, chuckling breathlessly as he reached up to rub the back of his neck.  He looked cute flustered, which was a shame because his tone seemed to imply you needed to not be thinking about how cute he was.  “Listen, you should know that what happened before… it was a mistake,” he sighed.  “It can’t happen again.”

“Do you regret it?” you asked point-blank.

“It can’t happen again,” he repeated in lieu of a real answer, and you looked closely at his face; you didn’t find as much confidence there as you were looking for, it wasn’t the face of a man who knew he was making the right choice.  You certainly didn’t think he was making the right choice.

“Why did you want to have this conversation alone in your office, then?” you challenged.

He cleared his throat slightly.  “So no one would hear us.”

“Hear us talk?” you pressed.  “Is that all?”

“That’s… definitely the plan,” he nodded, swallowing dryly.  "Like I said, it was a mistake— my fault, not yours.  And I just hope we can put it behind us respectfully."

“All the best mistakes are made at least twice,” you whispered, reaching up to trail your finger down his lapel.  “Don’t you think?”

“Don’t do that,” he requested tensely.

"Do what?"

"That," he hissed.  "Stop being… irresistible," he clarified, eyes darting from your lips to your finger to your eyes and back again.  "A man can only take so much.  I'm trying to do right by you."

"You already did when you fucked me that good," you smirked.  "Nothing else could be as right as that."

Your fingers were just barely brushing over his belt when he grabbed you by the wrist.  Jaw tight and eyes solemn, he shook his head.

You wrenched out of his grasp with a nod.  It was worth a shot, but you didn't want to be that person who couldn't take no for an answer— so, you gave him a little smile and readjusted the strap of your bag.  “Well, if it was just the once, then you should know that I’m still glad it happened.  Even if it shouldn’t have.”

He nodded, strategically not speaking— but you knew he would agree, if he could.

“And if it’s any consolation to you now, you were the best I ever had.”

You reached for the doorknob, just starting to turn it and open your way out when he suddenly slammed it shut with a hand right above your head, making you gasp and spin around to look up at his dark gaze.

“Professor…” you whispered.

“The best you ever had?” he repeated, grinning proudly when you nodded.  “Oh, sweetheart, I wasn’t even trying.”  He leaned down to brush his lips against your ear as he whispered to you: “You don’t even know yet how good I can make you feel.”

A shiver ran up your spine; your tongue darted out to lick your lips.  “Are you going to get on with it and show me?”

He didn’t even let you step away from the door, dropping to his knees right there and pushing up your skirt to kiss and bite your thighs.  “Only if you ask very nicely,” he taunted with a brow raised in challenge.

“Please,” you breathed, “fuck, please, want you to taste me.”

His hands slid up your legs, grabbing the hem of your panties before sliding back down.

It wasn’t like you’d never been eaten out before, but this still felt like a first considering your skirt was pushed up to your waist, your panties were pulled down to your ankles, and even just one slow lick over your folds made it obvious he knew exactly what he was doing.

“F-fuck,” you choked, reaching down to weave your fingers into his hair.  He grinned against your skin and kept going, exploring you carefully before finally sucking on your swollen clit.  Your knees threatened to buckle, your head fell back against the door so hard it almost hurt, but all you could really feel was his mouth on you, moving like he knew your body better than you did.

So it was no wonder, then, that you already began to spiral towards your release, legs shaking around his head as he devoured you mercilessly.

"Oh my god, I—" you tried to warn him, but he already knew, and he pulled back to wipe his mouth with his sleeve and stand up.  He grabbed your jaw and kissed you roughly, stopping to whisper to you so close that his lips brushed against yours.

"I'm sorry, draga, but you've spoiled me… now that I've felt you come around my cock, I can't imagine making you come any other way.  I need to feel your cunt grip me so fucking tight… it's all I've been thinking about since I last saw you," he admitted.

"I thought about it, too," you sighed.  "I was up all night trying to make myself come as good as you did but I couldn't… your come was still leaking out of me."

He growled and leaned in to nip at your ear.  "Oh, poor thing… I can imagine it so easily, you laying in your bed with your legs spread, fingers getting exhausted from playing with your little pussy too much, these perfect lips whining for me because you need me to take care of you."

"H-Helmut, please," you whimpered.  

"Yeah, something like that," he smirked.

"I can't wait any more, just fuck me.  Need you inside me," you breathed.

"Then bend over my desk."

{part 2}

[njpuckbunny]

instinct and impatience

rooster (bradley bradshaw) x reader

summary- hangman says some rude comments that upset you and rooster is there to comfort you

warnings- angst, dead parents, swearing, and fluff (not a warning ig)

word count- 1286

the soft clicking of your matte black combat boots echoed through the hard deck as you walked through the front doors to meet your fellow aviators waiting around the pool table. you had met some of them before, but there was one you could never forget. bradley “rooster” bradshaw. bradley was your crush throughout every single goddamn class you had together in school. he had only seen you as his best friend since the day you met. you could never shake off the feeling of jealousy as you coached him before his dates. the way his eyes locked with yours when he was heartbroken over another girl every single time.

you quickly introduced yourself to the newer faces, eager to get yourself a drink. the music in the bar and the overlapped voices was well enough to drive you insane sober. you (attempted to) calmly walk over to the bar and order a drink to soak in the agony of being reunited with rooster. the thing about your relationship with bradley is that it never happened. you had stayed in touch throughout the summers and hung out a few times over the years, but not this one. this whole summer had been a blur, and you had no time for a reunion with your favorite pilot. it was painful how much you wanted to see him after your mother died, only 4 months after your father. 4 months that went faster than you thought it would. your father was a well respected man in the engineering community in california and he initially encouraged you to pursue your love for flying. you tried to get over it as fast and as healthily as possible so you could help your mother herself. those 4 months were the only thing you wished you had back in life.

“y/l/n,” rooster awoke you from your reverie and looked at you with concern, "hun, you okay?"

fucking rooster with those nicknames of his. they drove you crazy just thinking about them. you hadn’t realized he was waving his hand in front of your face until penny asked if you wanted another drink.

“sorry,” you started “i was just thinking.” you reassured him with a loving smile and stood up from the bar stool to look at his full appearance.

there he stood in front of you, dressed in a gorgeous hawaiian shirt that squeezed his shoulders so softly it made you want to faint. the chain of his dog tags hung over the top of his white tank top that was covering his bronzed california tan.

the both of you walked over to the pool table full of aviators that you had just introduced yourself to.

“you two know each other,” a man, who you knew as hangman, questioned in the most disgusting tone you had ever heard in your life.

“yes we do bagman,” rooster replied nonchalantly, “so don’t be trying to get in her pants.”

hangman rolled his eyes and retorted, “whatever, just play the game y/c/s.”

you backed up from the table as hangman walked around to gather the previous shot balls and rack them up. rooster was behind you when you backed up too far and bumped into him, feeling his toned chest against your thin shirt.

“oh my god, i’m so sorry brad,” you choked out, still mesmerized as you turned to face him (totally close enough to kiss).

“no need to apologize, sweetheart,” he added. once again, those pet names tugged at the strings in your heart, longing to be loved by the man you never thought loved you.

hangman called your name and exclaimed that it was your turn for the past 5 minutes while you were trying to “eye fuck” rooster. you rolled your eyes and got on with the game.

after what felt like a millennia, and 20 billion rude comments from hangman, there was the 8 ball left and it was your turn. so far, none of hangman’s comments really went to your soul, which was unusual for hangman to not be such a fucking dick. on your first try, you successfully sunk the 8 ball and joyfully bounced up and down, cheering about your win with rooster.

you heard hangman sigh and grumble, “well at least i have parents to cry to about my loss.”

you stopped bouncing and turned right to hangman with the most heartbreaking look on your face. he stared back with an amused face and stated, “it’s true though.”

“what the actual fuck seresin,” rooster hissed, “are you fucking serious?”

bewildered with hurt, you sprinted to the back porch of the hard deck with tears welling with your eyes. inside of the hard deck, rooster whispered to hangman, “you’re lucky i care about her, or i would beat your ass right now,” while walking forcefully to the back porch, where you sat on the swing.

silent sobs slipped past your lips when rooster sat next to your curled body on the swing. your were knees hugged into your chest until you felt rooster grab your shoulder and pull your whole body into his so you were grasping his back and hugging into him now.

“do you want to go home,” rooster suggested because all of the aviators were stationed at a hotel and he knew you had taken an uber here.

you hummed in agreement as he picked you up bridal style knowing that you had no desire to walk after sobbing into him. he carried you all the way around the wrap around porch of penny’s bar and softly set you down in the passenger seat of his bright ocean blue ford bronco.

the sound of the ocean and the music filled your ears for the period that you were in roosters car. the time flew feeling the wind blow through your hair and roosters fingers trailing along your fingers on the stick shift of his car. he sung along to a couple of the songs on the radio and hummed the others. when you arrived at the hotel he had quickly walked into the elevator with you, guiding you to your room and leaving you to enter your own room while he went to his own. before he left he gave you his room number and told you to knock if anything was bothering you.

the next hour of pain was unbearable that you looked at the clock from your bed every single second. your instinct and impatience pulled you away from your room and down the hall to the roosters. before you could bring your fist down to knock a second time, rooster had opened the door and you seized the moment to jump into his embrace, nuzzling into his chest with emotion.

his hands made his way to the back of your head, rubbing your neck with one hand and your back with the other.

“i’m sorry,” you coughed out through breaths and sobs, “thank you for driving me and helping me. it means more than you know and i wanted to finally confess that i’ve loved you ever since the moment i met you when—“

he cut you off with a soft kiss and replied, “i love you too doll.”

you embraced him once more, crying, as he slowly turned you both to his bed and crawled in with him. you felt his hands pull you on top of him while you both got comfortable in each other’s encirclement. you wrap your arms around his waist and his palms make their way to your back to rub his soothing touch into your skin. as soon as possible you fall fast asleep in the scent of his whole aroma.