#shes kinda just always covered in dirt or blood or both

[solargeist]

YES BEAU IS BACK!!!!

yeah loL i said i was gonna draw her more and then forgot .

she's always having... A time.

[e-m-ma-lmfao]

Ruin My Reputation

pairing : cooper howard (the ghoul) x (fem) reader

summary : he’s soft for you

warnings : blood, drug use kinda, talk of shooting

a/n : just something short and sweet so the fallout brainrot subsides.

“You know damn well I hate when you show up like this.” You let your medical supplies clatter onto the table where the ghoul sits, waiting like a hurt dog. Eyes awfully resemblant of the animal.

It’s likely that the only reason he’s here, looking this run down, is cause he’s got no vials left. If you knew better, you’d hide yours. Or better yet, get rid of them all together.

“Now c’mon darlin’,” he pauses to sputter out a cough and take a deep breath, “I thought you loved seeing me.” Shakily, he grabs his hat off his head and places it on the table.

“I love you a whole lot more when I don’t have to worry about you showing up at my doorstep on the brink of death you old..” Your words trail off and whatever insult you were ready to throw at him is taken away by the stream of air you let slip past your lips.

“I told you to quit your worryin’, I ain’t gonna die on ‘ya.”

“Oh yeah? And what do you suppose it is you’re doing right now?”

“Well if you’d quit your yappin’ and get to fixin’ I’d be doing a whole lot better, wouldn’t I?” He offers an unwelcome smile, which disappears when he winces in his pain. You hand him a vial of his favorite yellow liquid before you get to unbuttoning his shirt. After downing the vial he opens his mouth again but you're quick to cast your eyes his way.

“Looks like I didn’t need your medical attention after all, huh? ‘S a damn shame.”

“Mhm, waste of my time. Well then, I’ll cut right to it, thought I told ‘ya not to come around anymore after the last time.” Your voice trails off as you disappear to the back room to grab him a shirt that isn’t littered with holes and dirt and a shit ton of blood. Most of which probably isn't even his. And he follows behind, limping, like he’s in a trance and can’t help himself.

You hear a grunt from the other room as you rummage through a small storage box of his discarded things. Anything he left over the months he had been making himself a frequent quest in your home was in this box. You wanted to burn it. All of it. Use those little bottles of yellow liquid as a fire starter and make him watch while you did it. But anytime you tried, you couldn’t actually bring yourself to part with the tiny symbols of his presence.

“We both know you didn’t mean that,” he appears in the doorway behind you, blocking your exit, “besides I always come to my girl for help when things get rough. She's got all the good chems.”

You throw the shirt into his arms, a bit harder than intended, but he catches it with the reflexes of a man who kills for a living. Because, well, he does. You’re not sure why but every comment is making you angrier about him being there. A chem stash, huh? That’s all he thought of you?

“I wish you wouldn’t. I ain’t got time to sit around and tend to you, wait for you to get all better and leave again.”

The shirt now hangs on his body loosely, buttons open, “Now what’s got you so sour tonight. Usually you're a lot kinder to little ol’ me.” He leans against the doorframe

“Maybe the fact that I’ve got a half dead cowboy making himself comfy in my home every two weeks doesn’t sit well with me. You ever think about that before you kick your dirty boots off on my carpet?” You pause to stare at him with a raised eyebrow, “Oh, which reminds me, you owe me a new carpet.”

“What’re you talking about, woman?”

“You got blood on my carpet.”

“It was already covered in blood and dirt anyway!”

“Well, you got more on it. I liked how it was. So now you owe me a new one.”

“Are you hearing yourself? Where would you like me to go for said carpet? Anything I find you is gonna look exactly the same as the one already sitting on your goddamn floor!” He moves in slowly, cautiously like he’s practiced the art a million times. “Now I know you’re not worried about that piece of fabric out there. What is the problem?”

He swoops in close, close enough to wrap his arms around your waist with his hands clasped together at the dip in your back. You don’t push him away, though you want to. Although, all you think about is how your gun is sitting merely 5 inches away on the end table beside you. You could shoot him, if you wanted. But you probably won't.

Cooper’s eyes find your avoidant ones, the rough pads of his fingers grabbing at your chin to make you look at him. He’d never raise his full hand to you, smart man. God knows you’d think he was moving in to slap you, and his hand would be gone before he could yell ‘yeehaw’.

“You know damn well that I worry about you Coop.” Your arm finds his forearm, tugging his hand away from your face, “I just want you to stay for once, so I won't have to worry about you dying in the middle of the wasteland somewhere.” His hands find the dip in your back again, running along your skin until they rest on your hips.

“Hey now, you know I can’t stay, I got business to take care of out there.”

“Yeah, it’s always business. Always. Well you know what, so do I. So go on and get ‘fore I shoot yer sorry ass.” You step away from him, pushing him out of your way but his hands are quick to find your hips again and pull you back to him. Works like magnets.

“Now you're just being dramatic.. Alright alright, if you ask me nicely I’ll stay for a little longer than usual.”

You stare at him, eyebrows flexed in annoyance but the rest of your face has seemingly cooled down. You don’t need to say anything, he’s already agreed. He looks down at you with a soft smirk, thumbs rubbing into your hip bones.

“You are the easiest woman to please in the whole wasteland.” You feel your eyebrows relax as one of his hands reaches up to cup your cheek in his rough palm. His lips part, gazing at you with deep adoration.

“Think you’re making me go soft darlin’, gonna ruin my damn reputation.”

[sailing-through-hawkins]

✧ 1 ✧ 2 ✧

"What if - ooh, what about Patricia?"

Robin rolls her eyes, picking at the grass by her ankles. She's tempted to throw some at Steve but she doesn't really wanna see the blades phase through him right now, even if he'll play up his outrage to distract her.

He's been doing that a lot lately. Trying to distract her from the fact that he's - that -

"Okay, okay, hear me out - Chrissy Cunningham."

"The cheerleader?" Robin wrinkles her nose. "Steve."

"It could happen!" Steve says defensively,  sticking his tongue out when Robin gives him her most 'seriously?' face she can muster. "Don't judge a book by its cover, or whatever."

"You're literally meant to do that, that's what the cover's for!"

"Well then, why do people even say that?!"

"I don't know!"

"Is it always like this with you two?" The grouchiest voice cuts through them and Steve spins around in place, floating up even higher so he can stare down at Eddie.

Robin just snorts. "Pretty much."

"Don't be too jealous, Munson," Steve coos, turning himself upside down with a wide grin. "You'll find your soulmate at some point, probably."

"Oh wow, probably," Eddie grouses, and Robin has to bite back a laugh when Steve, still upside down, floats behind him with a silly face stretching out...the scar on his chin. "I am ever so gracious for your faith, oh Generous King."

"This guy's a riot," Steve laughs, poking a finger through Eddie's shoulder and making him jump in place. "Bobbie, can we keep him?"

She wrinkles her nose and shakes her head. "I'll end up being the one taking care of him if we do."

"I'm right fucking here," Eddie glares at the both of them, which is just prime material to get them snickering. "Whatever, did it work or not?"

And with that, the laughs cut off.

Robin remembers.

Steve's dead.

"Hey," The ghost of Steve floats over to her, sitting down beside her on the grass. "It's okay -"

"It didn't -" Robin chokes out, avoiding Eddie's eye, staring down at the dirt that she's plucked bare of green. "It didn't. They couldn't see."

The air is silent.

"Probably for the best," comes a sigh and Robin feels rage boil through her blood.

"What the hell?" She glares up at Eddie, who holds his hand up in surrender.

"Look, I know you're both desperate to get your little 'Party' up to speed but like...I mean, just look at him." Eddie waves to all of Steve's ghost, who looks more and more affronted with every word Eddie says. "Do you really think it's a good idea for actual children who watched him die to see him again in the exact same get-up? With the same wounds?"

Robin pauses but Steve just glares harder. "Oh sorry, I didn't know I was supposed to go shopping at Ghosts-R-Us and pick a whole new outfit! What, you think I want to be stuck in this uniform? In the shorts?"

Eddie's face goes red and Robin distantly thinks 'serves you right' as the echo of "watched him die" cycles through her brain. "Well I - I don't know, you're a fucking ghost, you should have ghostly powers or something!"

"Have you ever met a ghost before?!"

"Have you?"

"Stop," Robin chokes out and she immediately gets the chills as Steve waves a hand through her shoulder. "Just stop."

She can't feel him, because he's gone. He's gone. He's gone -

"I'm right here, Rob," Steve's voice murmurs to her and she sobs. "I'm always with you, promise."

"I'm so sorry," she cries, burying her face in her hands and curling up, grief pulling down at her heart. "I'm so sorry, Steve -"

"Shh, it's okay, birdie," he says and she almost feels the warmth he should have. "It's not your fault, it's okay."

"I thought - I just - if we tell everyone, maybe they'll know what - how to - I'm sorry -"

"Wasn't your fault, Bucks," Eddie says gruffly, sitting down next to her roughly. "Just what happens sometimes. That kinda shit...'s out of our control."

She sniffles, burying her hand deeper into her own skin, hoping it'll suffocate the tears out of her, or maybe make her pass out so she doesn't have to think about all of it for a bit, or scratch away the endless void of pain inside her chest -

"Birdie, hey, look at me."

She doesn't.

"Robin."

She can't.

"Please?"

With another choked out sob, she looks up to see Steve Harrington, smiling at her like he never left. Like she didn't leave him.

"No matter what happened, or what happens," he says softly, nearly see-through fingers trying to brush her hair out of her face. Maybe she should get bangs. "I'm always with you, Robs. Not even until death do us part. Platonic soulmates for the rest of time."

She wails and shoves her face into his shoulder, not even caring if she passes through him. A hand pats her back, probably Eddie's, and she sobs louder because why did he get to see Steve? Why did she force him to know? Why couldn't they just be happy?

"Woah, how the hell -"

Robin blinks.

She's sobbing into Steve's shoulder. He's patting her back.

She quickly moves back and stares, Steve's own surprised face staring back, no bruises or scars or Scoops uniform in sight.

"What -"

And in a snap, his face turns back to battered and the warm red sweater he was wearing just a second ago turns back into the bright blue sailor shirt. His hair loses its fluff and goes back to that sad, wiry, bloodied mop.

He changed.

"So you do have ghost powers!" Eddie says triumphantly, as Steve sputters.

"I guess?!" He looks down at his hands, reaching out to touch Robin's fingers, but all she feels is the cold. "How did - why did it stop?"

With one last sniffle, she cups the air around his fingers and looks up at the both of them, her Steve and their spontaneously adopted Eddie (in retrospect, maybe they are weirdo magnets? Better think about that later). She says, with as much determination as she can muster, "This isn't over. We're getting you back."

[slashers-and-rats]

Could you make Michael Myers' reaction to entering a house during a hunt and see a mother and her two children sleeping hugging on the couch?

rat chat: micheal seems like the type that would have some general morals. that’s kinda what this fic in general is demonstrating.

micheal myers x fem!reader | sfw |

micheal felt the autumn leaves crunching underneath his boots. no matter how silently he crept through this backyard, the sound still managed to escape into the quiet of the night. he was lucky that the wind was blowing, hard and loud, as it covered up any of his footsteps.

he was careful as he slithered up to the back of this house. there wasn’t anything special about it, nothing that drew him in and made him sure this was the target. there was no rhyme or reason in what micheal did, not always. sometimes, when hunting, he just needed to make a choice based on nothing but his own instincts. there was nothing different about this home. the only thing he noticed was a few balls strewn about the backyard.

‘must have a pet to watch out for’, he thought to himself.

he pressed himself up to a window, peering into the dark of a random room. upon further inspection, it seemed to be a living room, since in the very middle there was a couch. on the couch, laying as if she were bait in a trap, there was a woman.

micheal didn’t see much of her, only her head laying back against the top of the seat. she was dead asleep, clear by the way her mouth hung open in silent snores. he took note of her position, lingering for a moment. she seemed peaceful. he almost felt as though he shouldn’t ruin this moment- maybe he could find another house, and satiate his needs that way. but, it was too late into the night, he had to commit. didn’t he?

he pried himself away from the pane, stepping back and going to a nearby door. he found the knob and tried a few times, finally feeling it creak open and swing out near him. this neighbourhood was notorious for unlocked back doors (as if an intruder would only try the front).

he stepped up into the house, glancing down at the welcome mat he was met with. ‘remember to wipe’, it read in colourful, bubbly font. he tilted his head, amused that some woman would not have grown out of such childish things. he shrugged, deciding to amuse this little request, and he wiped some of the dirt from his boots off onto the mat. he then began his ascent into the home, weaving his way through the halls until he was back where he needed to be.

right there, sitting on the couch, was the woman from the window. micheal could hear her soft breathing now, and see the way her shoulders rose and fell with each breath. he examined her from the doorway for a minute, tracing over the shadows that adorned her face.

something tugged at him, urging him to leave and abandon this prey to its warren. he didn’t understand it, thinking that there was some… performance anxiety, or something of the like. it usually happened when he was walking into a bad situation, like a trap or a victim that liked to fight, but this didn’t seem like something he should be nervous about. it was just some lady, a sleeping beauty unaware of his presence. this was an easy target. it should be, at least.

he stepped up closer to the couch, and rounded it so that he was at the front. it’s then that he learned what the feeling was, or what it was trying to tell him.

sitting at both sides of the woman were

two kids, one to each hip. they laid over her lap and nestled into the warmth of their assumed mother, sleeping just as soundly as she was. upon closer look, micheal could see they had fallen asleep while reading a story book. a version of red riding hood, warning of wolves in the forest, and intruders like him thirsting for blood.

he was a villain. he had been well aware of that fact for a long time. he had abandoned his own virtues, deciding to find comfort in unforgivable sins, but seeing such a sight made him feel… dirty. it wasn’t common for him to be so self-aware. he usually targeted people that could be justified, a bully or a selfish landlord, but this. he could feel hell nipping at his heels.

micheal stared down at them. if one could see through the holes in his mask, they would see the intense focus in his gaze. he tried to untangle the knots that had developed in his stomach. regret, apprehension, the need to retreat- they swirled around inside of him and made him step back towards the middle of the room. doing this only gave him a greater view of the home. toys strewn about the floor, a child sized table littered with photos of the kids and this mother, and the same sort of balls from outside sitting in a heap near the same window he looked through. he should’ve known when he’d seen the yard there were kids here, he should’ve listened to his own intuition, but…

he shook his head. micheal had standards. he had needs, sure, but somewhere deep inside him there were morals, buried under years and years of neglect. he couldn’t do this, he couldn’t raise a blade to these people. yet he still felt the need to disturb, to bring some fear. maybe… maybe he could.

he went over to where they all lay, resembling the corpses he had seen many a time before, and picked up the two children. he was gentle, and they seemed to nestle into him, most likely mistaking him for their mother. she stirred only for a moment, but settled relaxed against the couch. he then got to work.

in the morning, when you were awoken by the birds singing sweet tunes, and the sun shining on your face, you found yourself on your couch. it wasn’t rare that you’d fall asleep in your living room, but this felt different. you recalled the night before, and how your children had been their with you, and it made you pat the seats beside you.

they weren’t there.

for a moment you panicked, eyes widening as you sat up and began scanning the room. it had been cleaned. toys were put away carefully in their bins, pictures had been pinned to their proper cork boards, snacks had been swept off the rug- this was not how this room had been left. you knew the kids wouldn’t have cleaned it either, not without a bit of a fight. it filled you with dread. someone had been inside, and had decided to… clean? such a kind action, and yet you were filled with unease. your home had still been entered, after all.

you pushed yourself up from the couch, beginning to look around the home, calling out for the kids. the more you called without answer, the more your chest tightened. room after room you checked, until you finally shoved your way into their bedroom, and-

there they were. they were still asleep, blankets tucked tight to their chins and peace on their faces. you made sure they were breathing and all in one piece, before sitting down on the edge of a bed. your heart was still racing, the pounding filling your ears.

you had to take a moment to breathe, to reassure yourself that it was all alright. maybe you had done this and didn’t remember. you had been so exhausted yesterday. it was a weekend, and the children had been particularly energetic. maybe, in your own half-asleep state, you had put them to bed and cleaned up the living room.

you insisted that must’ve been it, nodding your head and looking up to the window.

it was open.

you stood up quick, going over to it and leaning outside over the sill. you never left their window open, as one of the children had believed there to be fairies that would whisk them away. no, no you wouldn’t forget such a thing. you couldn’t have.

you looked outside, seeing nothing in the horizon. it seemed safe. you leaned back into the room, shutting the window tight and closing the curtains.

micheal watched from the tree line.

[crushedsweets]

What do the proxies think of each other?

this is gonna be kinda messy and disorganized but i got it HANDLED

again, THIS IS ALL MY AU!!! there is a streamline, detailed plot that intertwines, so these characters mingle and grow in ways they probably wouldnt in canon, since different events follow them here O/S Syndrome = Operator/Slender Syndrome, aka slender sickness

Toby: He thinks of Brian and Tim kinda like shitty uncles who only come around every now and again . they used to taunt him a lot cuz toby was always like. annoying, selfish, sarcastic - so it would piss them off, and they'd piss toby off, and then it would be pretty bad. but as toby gets older and calms the fuck down, it gets better between them . he gets pretty sad when they eventually cut him(and everyone) off to move to like, canada or oregon or something.

he likes kate. theyre both outcasts even in a group of creeps and killers and literal monsters.... so toby's always been nice to her. when she refused to come to the cabin, he ended up dragging a mattress over to the mines for her. brings her food, gallons of water, t shirts. she owns random band t shirts that she doesnt even listen to cuz toby gave it to her LMFAOOO . he's the reason kate starts coming and staying at the cabin

Kate: she hates tim. completely cannot stand him. she hates when slendy makes them work together. he's been a dick to her since he met her, because their first time meeting was um. her dragging tim through the forest while he was unconscious. and she was generally part of what tormented him during the events of marble hornets (IN MY AU OBVIOUSLY). he's also uncomfortable because when she kills people she does it with her bare hands. will lick the blood and dirt and grime off her fingers. generally freaky.

she's better with brian. he doesn't remember her tormenting him so much during MH, but he still knows - but he's better at empathizing with her situation. he kinda pieced together what happened to her, while tims just blinded by like. anger and trauma. dont get me wrong, brian is still uncomfortable around her (again, she acts really scary when working), but when she's not working and she just sits there. she looks so tired, and she's so quiet, and its sad. he feels for her.

she likes toby, too. first person to treat her fully like a person after becoming a proxy without her having to like, beg for it (directly or indirectly). again, he brings her things, he's kind to her, laughs with her. he'll tease her and make fun of her but she can tell it's not with ill intent so she'll do it back - she considers him her best friend for a while.

Tim:

HE'S A HATER HE'S A HATER HE'S A HATER ok i know i call him an asshole and say he's mean a lot but i legit am not mad at him and i think he is within reason (like 60% of the time) since like. kates dragged his unconscious body through the forest and left him covered in scratches/bruises, toby's almost always throwing the first punch, he's had his entire life derailed for so fucking long, and these kids don't make it any easier- he could've been in kates position, which is the one thing that makes him kinda hesitate when he wants to say smth mean. he usually isnt an asshole unprompted, but he'll always take it the second step.

a lot different for brian. he wanted him dead for a while too. blamed him for a lot of stuff, but at this point he........... has nobody else. brian is his friend. i feel like writing too much about the complication of their relationship kinda takes away from it. theyre roommates, they leave together, they'd fight tooth and nail to stay in eachothers lives. despite everything

Brian:

i feel like i dont have a lot to say about brian since I already described everyone else's relationship...

just to sum it all up with him, he cares more about all three of them then he lets on. but he's also a lot better at showing he cares. he brings some basic groceries and beer and shit over to the cabin pretty frequently, he'll hang around toby and if kates there, ask if she needs anything. she usually just shakes her head, but on the off chance she says she wants like. a specific drink. he kinda feels like he got +1 friendship points with her LMFAOOO . and obviously he jokes around and messes with toby when they're not fighting

and again, same thing with tim. that's his friend. he's missing a LOT of memories from the events of MH, but tim hasn't hesitated in telling him how he feels about it... and he feels bad. it all sucks. even now, he says things he doesnt mean, just because all of the guilt and anger and trauma gets him and tim both riled up. then they go get a drink together and move on

overall, the proxies are pretty messy. brian and tim arent very present anymore, toby and kate are sort of taking on their 'in charge' roles. their relationship slowly mends itself over time, since my AU largely focuses on improvement and recovery and redemption (HOWEVER MUCH THEY CAN ALL THINGS CONSIDERED...), but its still pretty bad

[birdmitosis]

Are you still dining the ask game? If you are what are your thoughts on the pristine blade

[ask game here]

LOL okay I will definitely do this one. This is a very cool ask actually and I am so excited to share my thoughts on the pristine blade itself!

First impression

This is just our implement. We had to have a weapon of some sort available to us to be able to slay the Princess, right? Mostly I just kinda dismissed the blade as a storytelling convention and that's about it.

Impression now

Much more intrigued, honestly! The pristine blade is one of the only parts of the Construct besides us, the Princess, the Narrator in our head, and the environment. It is almost always there (besides in The Wraith, interestingly enough) and it is always "pristine" -- even in the dirt or covered in blood. Is it a piece of us? A piece of the Princess? A piece that came from the messy tear that separated us? And does it have any connection to the Princess's chains -- the only other part of the Construct besides those things? What does its being "pristine" signify? There is definitely something about this blade...

Favorite moment

When you hold it the "cool" way by default if you take the blade in The Apotheosis. That combined with the swell of epic music and us facing down a Biblically Accurate Princess large enough to have her own gravitational pull just made me cheer out loud when I first saw it!

Idea for a story

This one's a bit harder. I haven't had any real ideas up to now, except to explore in various fic how the voices might choose to arm themselves post-Construct, who would continue to choose blades, or if they managed to have the blade when they left who would most often have it (or be allowed to)...

I could also, though, see a fun fic coming from the idea of "what if the blade was available in The Wraith?" Or maybe what if it wasn't available at all in The Den or The Thorn?

Unpopular opinion

IDK if this is super unpopular, but I think it is even more interesting and fucked up and badass of her if you go the route of screwing up so bad with Thorn that she swallows the blade whole. If nothing else, it really shows how much of Witch is still in her, and I love that!

Favorite relationship

I can't narrow it down to just one!

I love the relationship Cold has with the blade as almost an extension of himself, as both being weapons. I love Contrarian's dedication (until the Stranger ending) to throwing it out the window and also his insistence to hold it the other way that comes back in The Apotheosis even though he's not there! I love Hunted's relationship to the "steel claw." I love Paranoid's moment of "steel can't lie to us," and how she's perfectly willing to use it to slit our own throat despite desperately not wanting to die before. I love Skeptic refusing to let you not take the blade and being willing and able to stop your heart if you don't use it in the leadup to The Grey!

I also love Adversary wanting us to stab her with it. How Damsel is perfectly willing to let you chop bits of her off with it (how metaphorical), and accepts her death if you slay her with it with tears in her eyes, and has it firmly in her heart as the Burned Grey, and if you reach for it she gently holds your hand there. How Prisoner uses it to cut off her own head. Everything about Witch and Thorn's relationship to it, whether things go well or terribly. How in The Wraith it just disappears entirely, for the only time in the entire game!

And I love how desperately the Narrator clings to it, needs it to be there. And I love the relationship the Princess (Harsh, Soft, or Stranger) in Shifty's heart has with it; her line that since you chose to take the blade, it has to be used, just gets me right in the heart.

I guess if I had to chose, out of those three... "categories" I suppose? I'd choose Skeptic, Damsel -> Burned Grey, and Shifty's Heart.

Favorite headcanon

I mean, it's not confirmed, but I think I like the idea that the pristine blade and the Princess's chains are similar things. Only you can use the pristine blade to attack with, though the Princess can use it against herself (Prisoner and Thorn most obviously), she never stabs you with it even when she winds up with a blade of her own; you have very little effect over the chains, only being able to be trapped in them in The Prisoner, while Prisoner can attack you with them, several of the vessels can free themselves from them, and the ones you free from them plant the idea in your head first (Damsel, Tower). The chains, like the blade, are always in the same place until certain Chapter IIIs, where sometimes they disappear.

The pristine blade is tied to the Long Quiet in some way, may be a part of him, while the chains are tied to the Shifting Mound in some way. Again, not confirmed, but I really like the idea.

ETA: @salty-an-disco pointed out a thing that makes EVEN MORE sense and is super cool: the idea that the pristine blade is actually a piece of the Shifting Mound (a piece of death that you can use to kill with), while the chains are a piece of the Long Quiet (stagnancy trying to trap her)! So the pristine blade is actually tied to the Shifting Mound as a part of her, while the chains are tied to the Long Quiet likewise.

Again, not confirmed, but this idea rocks so much that I am immediately adopting it forever.

[blingblong55]

Tall Child- 141

Based on a request:

Currently thinking of feral R/n (my specialty, the shredded wall saga) then sort of started to sort of reflect on my childhood and got sad :( Could I request like a feral R/n origin story (if we can call it that lmao) of like R/n always being told to grow up even from being young? And never really being able to do child things, and then they joined the military which is dehumanising in its own right, so then when they go to the 141 and end up stabbing a wall or desk of something repetitively and gets caught, they’re expecting to be marched to Price’s office to be reprimanded, but instead whoever found R/n is just like “come on kid, let’s get you something to do that isn’t property damage,” and they go and get like a little archeology set or go dig holes outside together? And that’s how R/n ended up being feral it’s just because they’re finally allowed to be a kid again. This is such a long-winded ask I’m so sorry 💀🫧

A/N: R/N is like Penelope Garcia from Criminal Minds in my opinion...kinda

GN!Reader, some angst (don't think so...but just in case), fluff

Long ago, r/n was a child who never got to enjoy the word. Never grew up being covered in dirt, laughing over silly little things, destroying stuff and enjoying it, and living life as any normal child would. You see, long ago, the r/n we know of today never grew up with such memories. Always forced to be an adult in the mind of a curious and innocent child. The days when r/n would want to run through a pile of leaves during autumn, blow bubbles and try to burst as many as possible, never to be lived just be dreamed. Never did they get the chance to live a life most adults now long for.

Life, what a funny word.

Back then, you wanted a castle, tea parties, jump-through puddles, plastic dinosaurs on the floor, and race car toys to be used as a child would. Now that you are an adult, that life is more than a faint memory. Instead of watching cartoons in your pyjamas, at times, you wake up in a trench, snipe in and some dead comrades or enemies in your area, a dead field is your new show. What would you ever tell your younger self if that 6-year-old r/n would be standing there, looking up at you with tears in their eyes because mum and dad said no more cartoons?

For a while now, your team Task Force 141 have noticed how things in their part of the base have been 'damaged' no clue how walls, floors, or doors are being damaged. Until one night when Captain Price walks into the common room. There you stood, giggling at some wall you were making holes to. Ahhh, his very own little monster, having fun as a child would.

He knows you, knows how you are and as a soldier himself, he understands why you are this way, how bubbly you are, just like a child. His whole team was like this behind closed doors, especially you. As you giggled and made jokes to yourself, he stood there, arms crossed over his chest and a small smile on him. He doesn't have any children to spoil or watch grow, he only has you and Soap, the youngest in the task force. His very own children, maybe not by blood or adoption but being in his team makes him a father to both of you.

He never admits your little actions bring him a sense of happiness and the fact that he has accidentally talked to Laswell about you, showing pictures and sharing stories as a father would. She makes fun of him for it, "The man who didn't have time for wives or kids, having two tall children by his side, what a sight, John." she chuckles.

He taps your shoulder, "Grim, what're you doing?" Always the father younger you felt safe with. "Nothin'" you, like a child about to get scolded say. A small smile on you, trying to convince him you were still his innocent kid.

He sighs, how could ever be mad at you. Never could he stay mad, those puppy eyes looking up at him.

"...Sorry...?" you softly spoke, he chuckles and offers a hand. "C'mon, let's get out of here before Ghost gets us both scolded." You get up, his hand at your back, guiding you out. "you know, that is considered damage to government property, lucky for you...I'll get you some stuff to avoid any charges" he winks and guides you to his office. For a good hour or two, you two searched the internet, looking at things that maybe he could order for a grown soldier and said soldier use without looking weird.

He found a large sandbox that could be used as a kids' archaeology box kit. His excuse if anyone asked what Soap and you were doing would be "assigned on a mission where they have to dig some things up, it's a two-person mission, classified." What a great lie he'd give Ghost.

At times, when he'd "help you two train" he would sit on a lawn chair, rest against the fabric and chuckle when either of you found a "dinosaur" bone. There was a moment when he was so entertained he joined the two of you. For hours as Soap and you giggled, Price took the job seriously, dusting off sand, a smile on him, "I found it!" the missing bone to the dino Soap and you called 'stuffin'.

From a scope, Ghost and Gaz watched you three 'train' telling jokes and taking pictures. "Old man desperately needed that." Ghost comments. "Bet they go for ice cream after this," Gaz adds.

"Yeah." a sad sigh from both of the men followed along.

"Want to join them?" they said at the same time.

Price ended up buying a bigger sandbox because this time, his whole team would be digging up some stuff on a mission. His children, you being the favourite and Soap competing for that title win.

A tall child crying as they sat in their bed, looking back at the old photos of a 6-year-old. Now they can look back and think, 'Maybe I was raised to be an adult because I'd find a family who would let me be that child who is now let out of the shadows.' This is the life you earned after suffering for years, watching people die, and losing so much. Now that life you dreamed of, is there.

Life, what a mystical word.

[territorial-tarot-tahr]

I was bored. It was meant to just be Cyberpunk-2077 smut but I got carried away.

Word count: 9.3k+

CW: kinda suicidal and depressive thoughts. There's also sexual content inside though it is not the focus.

Summary: V tries to relieve stress after bottling up emotions.

If you found my A03 from this, no you didn't. Shut up.

There are spoilers for the game Cyberpunk-2077.

🚨Go to my main account "rorschach-retrograding-rotary" for commissions or requests🚨

🚨This was not proof read and I hate reading my work so I have no intention of proof reading it🚨

Feel free to commission me or donate

𝕙𝕥𝕥𝕡𝕤://𝕜𝕠-𝕗𝕚.𝕔𝕠𝕞/𝕤𝕒𝕪_𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕖𝕤𝕖

The hiss of water as the shower turned on sent a sigh from her lips, the warm steam hit her in the face and promised a quickly achievable sense of cleanliness and relief after days of running through the filth covered streets of Night City. Blood, sweat, dirt and grime had made themselves at home in forming a layer, akin to a second skin underneath and on top of her clothes. Her hair practically crunched when she brought her hands to run through her tresses and push them out of her face. She gripped the sides of the sink, staring down the face that greeted her in the mirror as condensation covered the surface.

Dark bags under her eyes, an almost gaunt quality had taken over her face. A few weeks prior when she'd held her job at Arasaka tower through exploitive or deplorable manners of it needed, but typically through tossing enough money at whatever problem arose. The "old" V would've probably thought her current situation as unthinkable. Her? Running through alleys and picking up random jobs for cash to try and keep alive while also tracking down a way to keep a haywire biochip from eating away her brain. Nah. Lowly behavior. A cruel joke. Well hardy har-har. Funniest shit known to man.

She pulled back her gums for a moment, checking the small dribbles of blood that she spotted trickling from different cuts she'd scored from an almost constant set of scraps. The most recent fight with Razor had left her with enough respect on the streets than she knew what to do with, but an ache in her bones and muscles that left simply climbing the stairs to her apartment as a Herculean task.

Coughing up blood, bile and vomit had become a common occurrence as well. A migraine always tracing along the edges of her brain as she navigated different requests and jobs people tossed her way. She rubbed her fist over the mirror, clearing her face properly and allowing her eyes to trace her trembling form before the condensation devoured her visage again. Her right hand shook as she placed her pointer finger on the mirror and drew a shaky smiley face, almost in spite of herself.

"You're the reincarnation of Van Gogh. Mind turning on the radio?"

A disgruntled sigh left V's lips as her mental hitchhiker made his appearance. She spun on her heels with a spark of energy she hadn't realized she'd had, leaning against the rim of the sink as she watched the final pixels of Johnny's appearance settled in for the most part. Every few seconds she'd see him phase in and out of detail as he paced a few feet, lounged about on whatever debris or simply stared disapproving at whatever V was doing. A flash of bright cyan pixels that covered the entirety of his being occured as if on cue with V's train of thought.

"Just listen to the channel I've got." V brought her hand to her eyes, rubbing them a few times as if she might chase the fatigue away with a few scrubs.

"You've got shit taste in music. As a double, I've got no interest in feelin' like a wet cat."

There was always something that made things difficult with his almost parasitic relationship. If he was visible, great. He got to enjoy the same sensations that she did. Tapping into the receptors that the biochip had managed to already consume and replicate or that they were currently fighting for control over. The rollercoaster had been a fun treat for both of them and V would find herself often thinking about bringing up whatever giddy yelps he'd vocalized when the coaster had taken a nose dive down the tracks, the wind whipping through her hair and the smell of sea salt practically palpable. Whenever he decided to show his mug, he'd get to feel the the sun on his skin through V, get to feel the tang of liquor on her tongue, and the rough leather on her skin as she navigated the streets. During these times, he'd manage to tap into whatever technology she had wired into her skull, in turn her music and radio.

However, he could cut himself off from the sensations if he so chose. Slinking out of her body to leave her alone with the splitting hangover, leaving her to feel the violent punches of her opponents alone while he occasionally tossed out a comment or some kind of sarcastic encouragement. This usually resulted in a far lesser connection on his end as well. Staying out of her dopamine receptors, and nerve endings that would've given him the sensations, also resulted in a loss of connection to just about her entire head until he reestablished the connection.

He didn't want to feel the sensation of water on his skin but he still wanted music...great. and this was her problem how?

"It'll only be a couple minutes. You'll live." V rubbed the corner of her mouth as she waved a hand dismissively at him. She was met with a grimace from him as he opened his mouth, snapping out of and then into existence but in front of the curtain of the shower this time as he wiped his dry lips.

"Radio. Or I ain't screwing off and you get an audience for your shower."

𝘽𝙞𝙩𝙘𝙝. 𝙒𝙖𝙨 𝙝𝙚 𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙪𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙜𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙥𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙮?

His arms were crossed and the glare he was shooting her from behind his mirrored shades clearly stated that he was. He was still as a statue, determined in his decision, his jaw was set, a few strands of hair that lay in front of his eyes as he stared down at her. He wasn't particularly tall. V was sure she could point out a few people on the street who could easily trump him in size. And yet he was still held usually to the whim of V and where she decided to go and what she decided to do. She was sure his ego always took a beating whenever she shut down his ideas or suggestions, though he made sure to get his jabs in no matter what. Small battles he could win such as this.

V felt her eyebrows twitch as she leered at the engram, her hands ball-ed into fists at her side. She could always pop a few of Misty's pills, sure, but she was sure he'd come back with a passion whenever they wore off. Maybe even allowing himself to dip back into the violent and suicidal side he'd shown off in their first meeting.

"𝙋𝙪𝙩 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙞𝙧𝙤𝙣 𝙞𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙢𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙝 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙪𝙡𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙜𝙚𝙧."

She was cautiously optimistic now that he wouldn't parrot the sentiment again if put into the situation again. That they'd grown too close of "friends" for him to actively say he'd rather they both die together instead of exist with the notion that he a passenger in her brain and not at the wheel. Though a small part of her usually chimed up that she was giving too much credit. He may have found his vocabulary to involve more begrudgingly complimentary verbage and vocab towards her, but she was sure if pushed, he could find it in his heart to turn cruel and sour again. Maybe he didn't even care in the slightest about her well being and he was just buying time with a nice persona, hoping that she'd grow too attached and chicken out of getting rid of the biochip. Instead, letting him take over. Maybe he was-

"Earth to V." Dry humor in a haphazard tone. He snapped his fingers in front of her face before turning his pointer finger to the box on the counter by her couch.

"Radio. Water bill 'ill be sky high pretty soon."

She blinked for a few moments and flipped him the bird before storming off to the radio, tracing her fingers along the few buttons before flipping it on and listening to the music begin to fill what silence the static-crash of water droplets against the wall provided.

"Retro station. Might hear something of yours or some other fossil tune." Her snark was palpable but her fairly blank visage seemed to more than prove that it was more annoyance instead of anger that sparked her comment.

The distinct auditory cue of Johnny's disappearance resounded as V cast a glance over her shoulder. She managed to catch the final flashes of bright blue as his engram vanished from in front of the shower curtain and rematerialized on the couch, legs kicked high up on the back of the couch.

His face was upturned to the ceiling, his attention apparently too important to even toss her way now that he'd gotten what he'd wanted. Though he did give her a thumbs up, the metallic coating catching the light but not reflecting on anything properly on account of him not even being there. For something that didn't have any proper affect on the world as he was right now, he was an attention whore and still managed to cause her more strife than he had any right to on occasions.

She waved a hand absent-mindedly at him as she made her way to the shower sloughing off her jacket and boots which soon found a new home in a small pile by the sink. Her thumbs found the hook of her jeans, quickly finding herself casting another glance at Johnny, seemingly just to ensure his gaze had stayed intently focused on the ceiling, instead of a straying glance her way. Luckily, she was correct and his gaze was on the ceiling, the only proper change in behavior being he was making random gestures with his hands as he mouthed along the words to a song he seemingly recognized.

V wasn't sure if she could define the song by a genre even if held at gun point. In all honesty it just sounded like every other grunge rock band but evidently, Johnny enjoyed the sound enough to have not only listened to the song years before, but recognize it on a "retro" station after half a decade of hanging around in the mind-fuck that was "Cyberspace" as a whole.

She quickly yanked her top and pants off before slipping past the curtain and into the warm embrace of the water. Her gaze was low, focused on the stream of water as it stole the dirt, sweat and grime from her skin, leaving it to swirl on the floor of her shower before disappearing down the drain. She huffed softly, and dragged her nails along her scalp before slipping them through the strands of her hair, working knots out of her tresses.

The simple acts such as that were now things that seemed to be practically luxury now that she had barely had time to breath between jobs. There was always some Cyberpsycho causing a rampage, a race that needed to be run, or the emperor recent one, "Kerry's manager had signed a label without his knowledge and now all of a sudden it was her problem that needed solving too." After a few heated words had been shared, she'd found herself taking a picture for them, all together and smiling as if he hadn't been holding a gun at them and yelling like a loon mere moments before.

On the way home, she'd managed to find herself hit by a car after a few carless steps in the wrong direction and a few seconds spent focused trying to read a text from Claire and she'd found herself thrown across the street. The driver had quickly left and no one had said anything, 'course when she so much as made her ride jump the curb, every available unit had been on her ass before she could yell.

"Everyone, no matter what! Keep your eyes peeled for the gonk with the pink hair and Samurai jacket! No matter what she does, if you see her driving for even a split second, start shooting or T-bone her car!"

"Understood!"

Fuck off.

To be fair though, the last time she'd managed to mess up her driving, the police hadn't been there for a good long while, Instead johnny had also been keen on her about not scratching his ride after materializing in the passenger seat, insisting that she was being too reckless and should let him drive his Porsche instead.

"Show her how to really make it purr."

Screw off.

While Johnny taking over wasn't the worst thing known to man, it did leave her wife a killer headache and a queasy stomach. Especially the performance she'd allowed herself to be talked into as a last "hurrah" to Samurai. Her finger tips had been worked red if not bleeding, sure, but she could've sworn her ears had still been ringing, even hours after the gig had ended. Adrenaline still coursing through her body and making her feel more weary than she had any right to be when the high eventually ended.

She wiped water from her lashes, running her palm across the wet-canvas of her face as she exhaled. The warmth of her breath being lost in the swirl of steam that wafted form the steady flow of water. She blinked, a few droplets hanging on hard to her lashes as she stared down at her forearms as she held them firmly against the smooth tile of the shower wall. The vibrant colours of the Tyger Claw tattoo she'd gotten as well as the insufferable heart and arrow tattoo Johnny had gotten without her knowledge. She couldn't decide which tattoo made her more uncomfortable. The Tyger Claw's tattoo brought up memories of Wakako Okada and to some extent, Takemura, before he'd met his demise in the collapsing debris. If he'd managed to survive that, the Arasaka agents had probably ensured his brain had become well acquainted with a metric shit-ton of lead.

Takemura. Now that was someone she hadn't thought about in a hot minute. Why hadn't she? His blood was practically slathered on her hands, each handprint a deep crimson with all the other unfortunate souls she'd ended up killing on her own accord or simply as collateral damage. She'd planted bullet after bullet between the eyes of more people than she could count. Goro, Sampson, Jackie-

Jackie. That one still hurt. When they'd been sliding down the glass, the case containing the chip gripped tightly in his hand, she'd been sure she was going to die. The fall to the pavement below had driven a scream from her lips and she would've sworn up and down that she was was in more pain than she could put into words. Though the feeling that caught in her throat like bile when she'd seen Jackie clutching at the wound under his suit? Incomparable. His steps getting heavier as he trailer further and further behind, his breathing falling uneven as he attempted to continue shooting at enemies. The way his eyes had searched hers when they say in the car, a solemn expression on his face as he went limp. The way her breath had caught in her throat as she stared at his body- his mother. She had to tell his mother- she had to tell Misty- she had to- she had to-

Her throat tightened and her stomach churned as her knees buckled. A moment longer and she was forced to to watch whatever she'd recently ingested move down the drain, leaving her with a pale complexion and feeling grateful that Johnny had hopefully been too engrossed with the radio to hear her losing her lunch. It shouldn't have hurt so badly even this far past the actual event. Everytime she had saddled Scorpion's Apollo, she found herself feeling guilt gnaw at her mind. She owed it to Jackie to use his motorcycle, did she not? Though at the same time, she was terrified at the prospect of scratching it. Ruining the pristine condition he'd been convinced it had to be in. A bright coat of a paint and an engine that roared.

No. She didn't deserve to ruin that.

She would just fuck it up like she always seemed to.

As her stomach settled, she shoved her hair from her eyes again as she focused on the sensation of the tile against the tips of her fingers. The condensation clinging desperately to their section as V slid her hands back and forth across the tile. She was here. What was done was done. She could only hope she could do better in the future. A heavy exhale passed her lips as she blinked rapidly, the sound of the water slapping against the tiles filled the room, drowning out the sound of the radio in the other room.

Though the quiet chirp from her implants broke the monotony of the water before it could gain any proper standing. Panam. A nonchalant text about hearing about how the Aldecaldos had just moved again, a swift description of the environment before saying that she wished V was there. It set her stomach in knots again. Something she'd never managed to put into words was how desperately she had wanted to stay when Panam had offered. A moment of proper vulnerability as she attempted to explain why her staying would simply cause more strife than mirth. Though the Relic had malfunctioned and she'd fallen to her knees, waking up hours later. The explanation hadn't seemed in good place to put into words there. "I know you're worried that I'm dying but I'm not looking to burden you, bye!"

Panam wouldn't have allowed that excuse for a second. So instead, she'd gotten the concise phrasing that V had tried her best to keep to a script about. She was going to fix this. Fix the screwed up mess in her head and then she'd make her way back to Panam and she'd love among the nomads. Watch the setting sun fall beneath the dunes of desert rock and cacti, hear the wind whistle and the animals announce their presence during the dead of night. Spend hours around a campfire with people she could call family. But not right now. And not in the way V would like. Panam had rejected her advances before, seemingly downright uncomfortable much to the distress of a quickly apologetic V. V wanted something from Panam that she couldn't give, and she couldn't blame Panam for that. But she'd blame herself for being foolish enough to think it would work out.

V turned to the side, her back against the wall as she allowed herself to sit down on the shower floor, her gaze trained on the grout of the tiles as she laid her hands on her biceps, knees tucked to her chest as the water continued. She'd thought of them getting together since really the moment they'd met. A few anxious comments about beds or one room had been enough to tip Panam off, and V had spent that night laying in the twin bed staring at the wall, her back to Panam. Long hours spent envisioning and hoping that at some point she'd look over her shoulder and see Panam by the side of her bed, or that she'd find her lips meetings hers as she took a perch on the bed. But her sleepless night had ended with nothing except a few chortles from Johnny and a damp spot in her underwear.

The call came from the other room, though she didn't seem to care at the moment. "V! Mind toweling off and changing the station?" She was half-heartedly aware of the sound of the radio, the tune sounding more akin to something from a stereotypical boy band.

V moved a hand from her bicep, resting more on her hip as she tilted her head back to stare at the ceiling. An hour spent envisioning and day dreaming wouldn't hurt anybody. She brought her pointer and middle finger to rest slightly below her navel. It wasn't as though she was a virgin. She'd spread her legs more than a few times and allowed herself to be charmed by a few folks at bars. But she has never been big into masturbation.

"it's for lonely losers who can't get a proper lay." Would've probably been her response a while back. Well guess what, now she couldn't get a lay without having an almost perpetual spectator and commentator throwing in his two cents. A few moments chatting up a guy on Jig-Jig street had earned her a few comments from Johnny about how "This choom probably lets himself be cucked. Teeth like a beaver and hands that shake like a leaf. You really about to sleep with 'im? Everyone's got a low point I suppose." For the girls he'd jested about their tits, their hair, have much of their face was even 'ganic. Until eventually V had given up. Even if she'd managed to work through those comments, she'd have still be left with him casting judgement the minute the Omega Blockers wore off.

"Hundred eddies says you came faster than a choir boy getting dicked by a priest."

"Standards really got that low, huh?"

An endless barrage of condescending comments would probably be what she was met with whenever she came back to reality. Though in all fairness, it been a while since one of those comments had passed Johnny's lips. Or at least he made it more obvious that he meant it as good natured teasing as opposed to rabid mockery. Guess she was one of those sexually lonely losers now though.

"V! Station change. They're playing genuine shit now. I didn't listen to some of these songs when they came out so why the hell would I want to listen to them now?"

She ran her fingertips along the length of her vulva for a few moments, giving her clit a few flicks before sinking her fingers into the warmth of her cunt up to the second knuckle. It drove a startled grunt from her mouth, though she stifled it as best she could. A fake cough also being utilized Incase somehow Johnny heard her over the sound of the radio and the sound of the water. She felt like a skittish teen again, looking at pictures of things she's shouldn't have been, hands below the covers of her bed as she attempted to listen for the sound of her guardians footsteps.

Why the hell would Johnny care anyways? She'd already had the misfortune of viewing a memory of him screwing his old girlfriend, albeit that was from Brigitte's will and Johnny had held just as much influence over the viewing as V had. That is to say, they'd tossed a memory in his face and he'd been forced to relive it. Whether he considered it as a source of shame for his prior actions or a source of pride for his "glory days" she couldn't tell. It was always hard to pin things down with him. Though the point had still been that he had no control over what she saw or was tossed to watch in that instance. She on the other hand, was very much aware and in control of her actions.

Whatever. It was her body. After a few more moments, she went back to slow and tedious work with her fingers. Her thumbs rested on her clit, as she used her point and middle finger to work in and out of her cunt. She'd been expecting more of a reaction from herself in all honesty, some further flurry of arousal as she attempted to work herself up to an orgasm. Though she suspected her aforementioned views and the coinciding habits had very well left her as rusty in this area of expertise.

"Alright, just have to try something different."

V didn't own any sex toys. If she'd been horny, she'd find someone to sleep with. Instead, she let her eyes travel the walls of her shower in search of something to improvise with. Her shower walls were typically bare, though she'd bought a handled loofah a while back when she'd begun going to sleep in her undergarments and finding the stains of grime and blood that had been left in spots she couldn't reach. She reached up and over, unhooking the handle from the small hook she'd latched to the wall.

The whole item was probably a bit longer than her forearm, though she had little intention of pushing herself near that far. Instead, she attempted to mentally measure the length of the texture handle and the groves that sat in it, allowing someone's hand to grab hold of the tool easier. She'd never been the best at math or guess work but if she had to wager, she'd say that portion was maybe 5 or 6 inches long. She blinked and turned the item over in her hands a few times. She was desperate sure, but was she really this bored? ....yes

She turned the loofah part to face away from her, positioning the handle towards her cunt, where she began to languidly drag the handle up and down the length of her vulva. She watched the subtle twitch of her legs as the pressed and flicked her clit with the handle as she huffed softly. Another soft grunt left her lips as she sheathed the handle in the warmth of her cunt as she brought her left hand to wipe the droplets from her lashes. She tightened her grip on the handle before coaxing the ridge coated handle back and forth, a firm shove back in her pussy that made her brows furrow at the surprisingly unpleasant and dull pain that the contact made.

Maybe she was sore? Maybe this was how it was supposed to feel when she wasn't drunk as a skunk with the scent of liquor on her breath, enough alcohol in her blood to knock an elephant out and dull the feeling. A mental shrug fell over her as she pulled the handle out again, dragged further out and angled up so that the ridges bumped against her clit as it sunk back in. Another full pang. Fuck, what was she doing wrong? Seemingly out of frustration now, she worked harder, a thumb on her clit as she tried to fix her mistakes. A harder slam, a sharper angle. How was she this bad at something as simply as getting herself off? She-

"Knock it off or do it right." The voice was an uninvited intrusion, the sound of the pixels reforming hadn't even been heard by V as she cast her gaze to the voices direction to the form of Johnny standing in the doorway of the shower. V quickly yanked the handle out of her cunt, her eyes narrowed to allow a better leer as she gritted her teeth.

"Fuck off, Johnny!" It was barely a coherent sentence, blurted out in a way that sounded more akin to a tell of frustration rather than an attempt at communication. She'd let him use the radio. He was a lot of things, but she had at least expected to be able to count on him keeping his word for something as simple as staying out of the shower while she used it. What should've been basic courtesy had even been an exchange. Radio for alone time. And he couldn't even do that! He-

"Not happening. You're screwing yourself like a virgin." The reply was more matter-of-fact than what V enjoyed, though when she got her thoughts together to toss a mental message his way, she was cut off by his continued message. His arms were crossed, his head tilted so the crown rested against the wall that he was leaning against.

"Fuck, all the gonks in Night City and I still managed to get saddled with the only one who can't make 'erself see stars. You realize how bullshit that is? I-"

"Why is this any of your god damn business? Turned on the radio for you. Go listen to it."

She was met with an arched brow from him as he looked at her from over his glasses. The polarized aviators didn't have much light to catch from the surrounding environment, but the dull glow of her bathroom light still caught and brought an orange hue to the shades.

"Radio channel started playing shit. Asked you to come change it. You didn't. I figured you had to be listening to something pretty good if you couldn't hear me, so I tuned in only to find lo-and-behold, you were sitting there hammering that into your pussy. Wouldn't normally care, but considerin' I, as your glorious passenger have the luxury of getting tangled in your sensations, I figured I have a right and obligation to tell you: you're doing it wrong."

"Great. You told me. Now screw off."

"Options are, cheesy boy band radio, sensory deprivation, or feeling you try and jack-off. I pick the latest. And, since I'm such a generous brain tumor, I'll even offer you something."

"Unless it's you fucking off, I don't care."

"Whatever gonk it was that jammed that stick up your ass even further than it already was is a talented creature. I'll give 'em that." He fished in his pockets for a moment, absent-mindedly speaking as he yoinked a cigarette from the crumbled box on his pants. It wasn't as though his pack had nicotine or even gave any sensation when he smoked them, so V always ended up looking at him through scrunched eyes and a raised brow as he puffed. Small plumes of smoke curling in the air around him as he waved a hand to emphasize a point, ashes falling off the tip of the cigarette as his movements became more dramatic.

"Ain't like I'm asking you to pop one of the pills and let me grip the wheel. Just a little trust instead." His statement was followed by stare that made V's skin crawl as she haphazardly attempted to cover her breasts, her legs held close together in order to retain some form of dignity.

"Uh-huh. And what's this trust exercise get you? Another date with Rogue? Another 'boy's night out'?" The warm droplets of the torrent traced over the gooseflesh that had developed on her skin during the initial startle.

"Nothing more than what I'd be getting already. I'll just stay synced to you so we can actually screw off properly, unlike whatever the hell you'd call your activity. Plain impalement. Gonna bruise your cervix all wrong and make your hips ache. Though if you wanna bang yourself up enough so you end up wobbling around tomorrow like your boyfriend went overboard on you the night prior, feel free." Monotone. Deadpan....jerk. V's brows knitted together as she glared up at the musician. A few moments later and she found her nails digging hard crescents into her palm as the water pelted her.

His discomfort at the water seemed palpable, practically twitching at every droplet that hit her skin, though he held his ground as the offer filled the dead air with a pregnant pause. He'd made jabs about something as small as Kerry's offhanded tease about sleeping together. Her chastised her for her conversation with the Joy-Toy in Clouds. He'd insisted they should leave Judy to sulk in the cabin. A moment spent attempting to discuss her thoughts with Panam was met with him yammering away at how corny V was being or that Panam wouldn't be as understanding as V hoped.

Whoever spoke first, lost. It didn't matter what passed their lips at this point, whoever finished their "silent vigil" first, would be on the loosing end. And that wouldn't be V.

That. Wouldn't. Be. V.

Absolutely not.

Wouldn't be V.

No matter what.

Wouldn't be.....

"Pervert."

"Whore."

"Cuck."

"Skank."

Goddamnit.

V cursed herself as she watched take a knee in front of her in. The flecks of warm water droplets sending the pixels of his form into a frenzy as he squatted and situated in front of her. What the hell was he even going to do? The world's shittiest game of Simon Says? It seemed leagues stupider than it had been before.

"Well I mean- hold on-." Bashful didn't describe it properly, sheer embarrassed was probably the better word for her feelings at the moment.

"Gettin' antsy?"

"No, just-" Sorry, you just make me nervous and sometimes me heart feels like it's in my throat when I look at you. Hell no. Fat chance she would ever say that in front of him. Instead, she furrowed her brows and worked up an attempt at venom in her voice, trying to make the comment snide.

"Know sure as hell we aren't working with actual sex, so how do you have any 'perience with this style? Rogue and Alt prefer a dildo or a JoyToy and they let you sit in a chair to watch?" .....did that sound like anything? Shit, she hoped it did. Though Johnny's seemingly disinterested expression proved otherwise.

"I'm not the one fucking 'emself on a handle. Wanna keep running your mouth and I'll have no problem leaving you to whimper as you bruise yourself up." The gaze that he shot her was a narrowed eyed stare over the rim of his glasses. "You want my input or not?"

impudent. Unbelievable. Rather than attempt whatever staring contest he seemed intent on putting on, she turned her gaze to the side. Her line of sight lay solely on the shower wall now, watching the traces of condensation slide down the tiles in an race with endless opponents, ending with their demise as they hit the floor and joined the swirling mess of droplets that traveled to the drain, swept away in the pipes.

She was wasting water.

She was reminded of her time at her prior job, her shoes clicking quietly against the elevator floor as it took it's sweet time to bring her to higher floors of the tower. Files or miscellaneous papers had a permanent home in her hands, clutched to her chest or held by her side. But she always had somewhere to be and something to do. Another bonus assignment, another bullet to be subtly placed between someone's eyes. Another employee let go. Another ex-employee who seemed too lose lipped about company secrets needing a proper silencing. Someone to serve because her own wallet seemingly couldn't get fat enough.

She was wasting water.

She might've screwed up, sure. Gotten herself kicked out of the company. Gotten her privileges, her money, her status, everything revoked. She could live with that. It should've only affected her. She'd been sloppy. Should've covered her tracks. But it'd tossed her into Jackie's arms. Made her get more involved with the family. Made her bring him into further danger. Get him brought into a job he didn't need to take. Get him six feet under and her still alive. Why did she deserve to even live? She was a walking time bomb. Half her brain wasn't even her own, a Frankensteined mishmash of her's and Johnny's. She should've died in that car. Jackie would've known what to do. He would've had a better plan besides running around Night City desperately hoping someone could help. He would've figured something out. Or at least spent his last few months in a meaningful way. He had a mother and family that cared for him, that mourned him. What did V have? What would she have when she finally dropped dropped dead? What would Silverhand be met by? A stray cat that drank from the sink and a few motorcycles. She was a fuck-up.

She was wasting water.

"V?" A vibrant buzz of sensations along her face caught her attention. She might've jumped had it felt like her legs were willing, but instead she found herself simply snapping her gaze back to Johnny. She was met with a seemingly somber expression despite his recent snark.

"Everythin' good?"

Did she want to tell him? She didn't think he'd be winning any awards for sympathy anytime soon but it wasn't as though he was wholly apathetic to her. Divulge a bit. Share the psychological burden. It couldn't be that hard, right? Just say it. Say you felt guilty about Jackie. Say you weren't sure if you even wanted to be alive right now. Say sometimes you wished Johnny would take overall ready so you wouldn't have to live with a brain that seemed intent to make you feel like every second you were alive was a second wasted. Say it. Say-

"Just thinking about how you took your sweet fucking time before even deciding to offer help. Hoping that I'd be desperate enough for your input if you let me bang myself up a bit?"

"Don't lose your tits. Know damn well I don't have the luxury of getting your sensations the minute you do. Got your attention when I felt it." The sanely grin had returned to his face and she watched him pull his hand away from where he'd evidently touched at her face for her attention. As time had gone on and his own tumorous brain had begun to make the beginnings of nerves, they'd found that it was possible to get flashes of sensations of the other as if they were genuinely touching. His brain registered that he was touching something and as such attempted to make a copy of it for him to interact with in Cyberspace as he often did with stools, bottles or even when he leaned against or sat on something. Her brain, now half overridden with his, registered that and began to attempt to register his interaction with the copied item at the same time as it misfired and worked through the idea of seeing something touching her but not feeling it. His brain registered that he should feel her while also trying to copy her. Her brain registered trying to copy itself for him to interact with while also registering that she should feel something. All this culminated in a misfire on both their ends which usually manifested as a subtle buzz that traveled through her as though a dulled version of what happened last time she'd accidentally grabbed the metal prongs of a plug when she'd been pulling it from its socket.

It only lasted a second if that, but it was still something.

"Uh-huh, sure." Snide. Keep your tone level. V watched the way he had begun to flinch every few seconds. His face scrunching as if in disgust but quickly returning to what she considered his normally sneer not long after, flicking his face to the wall opposite side of the shower head when he did. V didn't envy his position, she couldn't be sure if his brain was registering all the droplets and slapping the sensation across his body every few seconds or if maybe he felt it as individual flecks hitting him. Whatever sensation it was, she found her mind likening it to Chinese Water Torture as she kept her gaze on his attempt at subtly or playing off his flinching as he kept his eyes locked onto hers.

V brought her hands to just barely grace the end of the handle, unsure where to rest her palms now that the attention was on her. Blush laid claim to her face as she attempted to keep her expression null, though he reached out all the same and brought his hand to rest on the hilt of the handle. Her hand snapped to attention as the same jolt was sent through her skin, retracting her digits to lay across her chest as though clutching at pearls.

Bzzzt

You're here? I'm here. You're here. I'm here?

Bzzzt

That was how V had chosen to envision the split second interaction between their brains as they confused themselves. Though it didn't matter much how she pictured the conversation. The "why" was not the main thought in her mind as she watched Johnny reach forward to try and put the sensation to use.

A momentary glance up at her seemed all the warning for his quick experiment before he rolled his point finger to lay curled on his thumb before snapping it forward to flick her clit with his chrome arm while his other hand resting gently on the handle.

A yelp had forced it's way from V's throat before she'd even registered the vocalization, leaving her seemingly just as startled by the noise as him. It hadn't burned and the sensation hadn't been entirely unpleasant, but the feeling had still shot through her in a white-hot burst. She could only suspect that the more unpleasant or seemingly more intense part of the sensation had now gone simply from the fact that the connection was moving through a simply more sensitive portion of her body. Similar, she supposed, to how a tattoo hurt more in certain areas than it did in others considering where you got it. Ribs, hands, neck, versus arm or legs. Her brows were scrunched together, almost in a scorn of disapproval as she attempted to keep a straight face and turn her attention to the side.

She believed he'd called it a "whore face". An argument had broken out between them over whether he could have the body to get a good lay. He claimed that 50 years of celibacy was more than any human should go through and she'd insisted he should drop dead. At that point he'd begun tossing out off-handed and almost off-handed comments in a way of coping with the disappointment. The fox calling the grapes sour as it were.

"Not interested in lookin' up and catching glance of the mirror above an' your whore face starin' back at me anyways." Had been his final comment, refusing elaboration before disappearing in an explosion of pixels and a flash of bright colours that lingered in the air for a moment or two afterwards. Regardless of if he'd meant it or not, the comment had stuck with her and she seemed intent to not give any of the illusive "whore face" if she could help it. If that meant staring like she'd had a lemon crammed in her mouth, so be it.

"Not even a smile? How'm I s'pose to know if I'm doin' a good job or not?" The snide smirk returned to his lips as he leaned to the left to try and keep in her gaze. A second later and she'd managed to wrangle her expression under control and she'd opened her mouth to speak, though he seemed acutely aware of this as his finger snapped forward from another nonchalant flick. Under normal circumstances she was sure she wouldn't find herself fighting the urge to yank her legs to her chest while she twitched from something as simple as her clit being flicked. Or at least not on the second or third flick. Though the seemingly spastic flurries of activity that his touch sparked in both their brains have V some kind of comfort and reassurance that this wasn't indeed normal circumstances.

"Just help already." An embarrassed whisper as she lay her left hand over her eyes.

"Couldn't quite her you. Gotta speak up for me, V." Jackass.

"Fuck me, Johnny!" Louder than she'd intended. Please don't let another noise complaint from her neighbors come her way. "...please." Less whiney. Curt. Good.

A roll of his eyes was the reaction she'd expected to be met with, and she was not surprised when he executed the action. His fingers rested on the handle again, the copy of the loofah forming almost instantly as the dull throb took hold of her cunt.

You're here? I'm here. You're here. I'm here?

Though now it worked from what she could only assume was Johnn's brain registering the use of cyberspace for objects as the same as himself.

I'm here. You're here. You must be me too.

You're here? I'm here. You're here. I'm here?

Whatever the fucking reason, V was glad it was in the coding or a glitch in the Biochip. Didn't feel like anyone had crammed a proper dick in her by any means but the dull shocks that came from the contact between his copy of the handle and her pussy were more than enough to make her yelp.

A soft whimper was dragged from her throat as she felt the languid motion of the handle dragging out slowly before sinking back in after making a circular motion at the end as if Johnny was cutting something with a knife. Pull back, lift up, push forward with motion in the hilt.

With her fingers lain across her eyes now, she turned her head to the side again. Her cheek brushing the wet tile of the wall as she let him repeat the motion a few more times over. The sensation of sparks zipping across and through her flesh as the contact continued, the hilt going as far deep as it could without bumping into one of her walls or her cervix sent a snap of sparks through her. The sensation made her clench her jaw and she might've sworn her heart had jumped into her throat if she hadn't felt it slamming like a truck in her chest.

Alongside the whimper that surprised her by slipping past her lips, she managed to hear it met with a soft grunt from her compatriot over the sound of the splashing water. The distinct chorus of the pixels of Johnny and the loofah copy loading in and out of existence as he worked filled in just about every second of empty audio space.

The rhythm of his motions had been set into a mental rut in her mind, only to be abruptly interrupted by the sensation of the sparks on her clit again as he laid his thumb on top of it. Letting the sensation repeat as he just barely graced the top in subtle bumps that sent jolts through her body. What ended up shocking her was the mewl that clawed its way out of her throat after a few moments as the bolt of energy flooded through her body again.

Her hand quickly slipped from her eyes, laying across her mouth in an attempt to keep further noises off her lips. Though a glance from her newly uncovered eyes showed her that Johnny seemed less than excited about the new situation.

"Gettin' shy? Seriously?" He might've meant it to sound sterner than it did, or maybe he'd simply choked on something, but she could've sworn his own voice warbling did show that to some extent, that the overwhelm of her senses and the borderline overstimulation was getting to him too.

She couldn't trust her voice and tongue to not screw up whatever snide comment or retort to try and take him down a peg. A warble in her throat from his pace picking up or maybe shoving the handle forward with the intent of tripping up her speech. Instead, she held her tied tongue and kept her hand laid across her mouth, though the small flecks of tears forming at the corners of her eyes seemed to say enough. It wasn't as though it felt perfect or even entirely pleasant to that extent, the jolt through her body served amazing stimulation sure, but the force of it, and even the sensation in it of itself also hurt.

It felt as though she'd banged her elbow on a table and the dull yet simultaneously all encompassing shock of her nerves trying desperately to try and figure out how to register the sensation had been spread through her whole body. She wouldn't pretend that some amount of the sensation wasn't pleasurable, but the amount of pleasure compared to the overwhelming static of emotions didn't serve as a fair trade off.

The handle bumped against her cervix again and she practically yelled from behind her hand. An impromptu orgasm rocking over her and finally driving the tears from her eyes and chasing them down her face as her breathing hitched. What surprised her, was when the burning sensation left her suddenly, torn from her as though someone had ripped a burning torch from between her legs.

She already suspected the reason, but she wasn't soon going to let herself admit that it'd been too much. The minute she looked over at Johnny, she'd be admitting that she cried from a single orgasm. Regardless of the fact that it'd felt like someone had been tearing up her inside with a dagger. Regardless of the fact that she wagered she'd rather take a bow of celibacy than have to deal with that same sensation anytime she found intimacy in others. Regardless, she was certain she'd still find herself being teased by Johnny about this. "Her breakdown" she was sure was what he'd call it. Something condescending or-

The sound of him leaving the environment in a burst of pixels took her by surprise, leaving her sitting alone in the shower.

~

Crawling into bed to sleep drew images of a wounded dog crawling into it's well-worn bed to lick its wounds. She could only imagine Johnny had spent the time in-between the moment in the shower and now, laughing to his hearts content in Cyberspace. She was sure the insults he'd toss her way when he rematerialized during whatever time suited him would be demeaning. Condescending. Whatever it was, she didn't want to hear it. Though the distinct sound of him snapping back into the visual plane drew her attention.

The sound came from behind her and she imagined he was probably sitting with his back against the wall, snide grin on his face and a cigarette gripped between his fingers. Maybe he wouldn't even let her sleep. Just chat her ear off or mock her. Though she wouldn't roll over completely and was already attempting to compile a list of retorts, specialized to his narcissistic, bombastic, rocker boy-

"Y'okay?"

A second or two passed....Concern? Was he goading her into seeming more pitiful than she already did? He hadn't sounded curt. He hadn't sounded particularly snarky either. A few more cautious seconds passed before she cast her gaze in his direction, looking at him over her shoulder. He didn't look as though he was waiting on the edge of his seat for an answer, eyes wide and chewing his lips in concern. But his brows were still twitching and seemed further scrunched than they typically were in his scornful glares. Actual concern.

Say you're fine. Say you're fine, tell him to fuck off and then continue with your shower. Tell him to go back to his stupid radio and leave you alone. Tell him-

"No."

"Didn't mean to hurt you that much in the shower. Don't know entirely about your pain tolerance but I just thought-"

"Fuck, Johnny, no it's not just that." She'd already returned her head to her pillow, staring across her upturned and well lived in apartment at Nibbles as he sat on the back of the couch and slept peacefully.

She could hear him open his mouth to speak, though he stayed quiet. Seemingly not finding the right words. Instead, she heard the shuffle of movement and saw his boots come into view at the foot of her bed an the corner of her eye to realize he was simply laying down on his back next to her, staring at the ceiling of her bed.

If she wanted to speak, now was her chance. Don't screw it up.

"I know-..."

Don't trail off. Speak now or forever hold your peace.

"I don't think I even deserve to be alive."

Silence. Crickets. A passing car. Johnny held his tongue.

Keep going.

"Started with Jackie. Well I mean, it didn't start with Jackie. Felt this way for a while but Jackie was the first real solid stake hold. Been thinking about how I should've been the one to die in that car. Bleed out and have my body sent nowhere. He had a family. He had people who needed him. People who missed him when he died. He was wheezing, panting like a dog and pale as a ghost but still refused to really let on that he knew he wasn't making it. He was strong. Just about everyone at that funeral knew it. In one was or another they'd all seen him act like their own personal savior. Caring boyfriend, trusted friend. They all had the right to mourn him. But Mama Welles asking me over there? What did I know him for? I spent six months taking their food, stealing a mother's boy away from her in order in earn scraps of eddies with him. I took someone's lover. He was a fighter sure, but he had a right to his own happiness and I just couldn't leave well enough alone. I tumbled in there like a damn tornado and screwed up everything that could've been. A moment of Jackie at Mama Welles bedside as she said goodbye. A moment of Jackie slippin' a ring on Misty's finger. Me? I don't even know who Delamain would've sent my corpse to. Probably couldn't kicked me into a dump without much fuss from anyone else. Goro too. He had a goal. He only got into proper trouble and that building with Hanako because of me and Jackie. He might've managed to actually get away or-"

"V. Goro would've died a Corpo dog. Shot in an alley in then dumped in a trash heap like worthless scum. He would've died without justified sense on his end. Yorinobu would've killed him and Goro would've taken it because of his whole bullshit obsession with honor. At least with you, he died for a cause he at least gave a fuck about. Do you really think he wouldn't have said 'no' if he had wanted out?"

"No, I just-"

"And I don't believe for a single second you'd trade Jackie's death for what you're doing now. Blood on your hands, vomit on the streets, bullets flying past your skull and not thinking you'll be around to see next summer. You wanna be emotional? Be emotional, you'd be trading his death, his death that meant something to you, for a death where he didn't even get to stay dead because I'd be livin' in his corpse. Forcing his family to see that, know that they couldn't bury their boy because they'd be killing someone else and 'Jackie wouldn't want that'. You wanna say you'd prefer a place where Misty really got to see Jackie rot from the inside-out as he stumbled through each day in a collapse and seizure ridden haze like you do? You want to make his mom see him like that.You wanna be pragmatic? Be pragmatic, you'd be leaving Jackie to suffer for six months as he scampered for help like you're doing. You'd be making those he loved watch him grow desperate, make deals with people he wouldn't bring around his family in desperate hopes of kicking his death date further away. I know you're sad. And I know-....Look I know it hurts, V. But thinking like that doesn't help anybody. And if sure as hell doesn't help you. I ain't saying you're a saint. I ain't saying you ain't made mistakes. But I want you to understand this, "

She couldn't be sure if he'd paused for effect or if it'd been unintentional, but she still found herself listening intently, even if she wouldn't admit it.

"Even though you may be a proper gonk sometimes, you've got a right to live, V. Don't forget it."

...oh.

Her breathing was soft. Shallow kitten licks of air as she stayed silent in fears of disturbing the bitter-sweet quiet that had settled over them. The small buzz of energy settled through her as she felt him rest his hand on her shoulder.

You're here? I'm here.

[matixv]

Domme Natasha Romanov x Sub Reader

summary: Natasha’s missions as an Hero always take her away from you for a long time. After a long mission, she comes home being incredibly nervous and on edge, and end up taking out her stress on you. That behavior ends as soon as your safe word is used, making her understand she was dealing with her pain in the wrong way. You are there to support her during her breakdown.

warnings: sub/domme dynamic, safe wording, kinda of unhealthy scene at first, anxiety attack, panic/anxiety comfort, aftercare, love and fluff. Maybe don’t read if you are little. (This is not even a scene, it’s just everything happening quickly)

words count: 1.5k

Disclaimer: the situation written below isn’t healthy, but it will be dealt with care and love by the ones involved. You’ll see the character experience an high stress level, and wrongly taking it out on the one person she loves. Everyone can experience a burnout, but don’t confuse it with mental and physical abuse. If you think you are being abused in your dynamic, please, contact the authorities or leave immediately.

————————————————————————————

During the scene there was a strange atmosphere, it was not like the other times. When Natasha came back from a mission, she usually gave herself time to change in comfortable clothes, eat and get back in shape before relieving her stress on you, but this time everything went differently. It was sudden, too sudden.

The mission itself was tremendous. You watched from home all the Avengers' moves, asking for news every two minutes, and you soon realized it wouldn’t be easy to forget, for all of them, but mostly for Natasha.

Clint had informed you of her condition: she was physically debilitated, mentally broken, and definitely more on edge than usual. The mission had triggered many memories now lost in oblivion, bringing her anxiety and pain. You were looking forward to seeing her again, you wanted to help as best as you could, but this time you both crossed the line.

When she opened the door, she was welcomed by the lovely and calm environment of your perfectly cleaned apartment. You were patiently waiting for her, your outfit cozy; the bathroom was ready for her and you neatly washed and folded her clothes, it was your love language.

She limped to the center of the apartment, closing the door behind her and not greeting you, not even with a lift of her chin. You didn’t want to invade her space, so you just stood up and walked up to her.

You looked at her, she was not the same person from when she left: her clothes were ruined, covered in dust and dirt, her hair was messy, she had blood on her lower lips and her eyes were swollen and… sad. The only thing shining was her favorite necklace, a silver arrow, a symbol of her friendship

with Clint.

Her hand rested on the kitchen island, a nervous sigh escaping her lips as she wiped her chin with her leather jacket. You already made some food and displayed it along with some beverages on the counter, but she looked hungry for another thing, you recognized that hunger.

It wasn’t a good idea, but you haven’t seen each other for a long time, and you couldn’t deny you were looking forward to touching her body and feeling her close again. You just didn’t expect her to be so eager.

Deep, strong and green eyes barely met yours before your lips and body were crashing. You felt the dryness of her skin against yours, trying your best to deepen the kiss as she lifted you and lead you to the bedroom. You stumbled against the furniture and the door frame, until a loud groan escaped her throat. “For god’s sake, fuck this door”

She pushed you against the wooden door, your back collided violently with it, a sharp pain hitting your body. You hissed when you felt the contrast with the soft and fresh mattress, your lungs finally having access to air again. “Natasha…”

“Shut up” she quickly hushed you, her hand covering your mouth. “That damn mission was a nightmare, I spent days without sleeping or eating, no one was helping each other, I’m fed up with being the only one who truly fucking cares about keeping the Avengers together.”

She was angry, furious even. Her hands were already squeezing your breasts, as her lips made their way to your collarbones, leaving her blood on your soft skin. “You smell so good, I want to mark you”. And with that, she did. You felt her teeth digging in your skin, and soon you found yourself moaning to the pleasurable pain.

It was pleasure, but not healthy.

“And I’m not Natasha, you should know the rules by now” she reinforced with grabbing your chin forcefully. She ripped your shirt open, giving you no time to realize what was happening. “Your nipples drive me crazy” she whispered against the soft flesh.

You melted underneath her hot breathing for a minute, until you felt the sharp pain of her teeth closing around your hard bundles. You gritted your teeth, grunting and holding her head between your hands. “Fuck” you yelled.

You tried to push her away, to disconnect her from the powerful hold she had on you, but you realized it was almost impossible. She was lost in her head, too lost to continue the scene while keeping it safe and healthy.

She started undoing the buttons of your pants, roughly pushing a hand through the fabric, sliding her fingers in between your folds.

You both agreed with each other on what you liked and disliked during your scenes: roughness was accepted, slaps and grabbing too, marks and bites were your biggest kinks, but right now they weren’t making you happy.

“Nat, stop” You mumbled when she pulled her body into yours even more. Your request was barely audible, but brought her attention back to your face, not with the result you were expecting tho. She grabbed your face between her fingers, her lips close to yours.

“You think I had fun with all those men? Uh? You think it was pleasurable to be surrounded by people who don’t understand you or your needs? I had the most horrible month of my life, I had to walk through my past all by myself, it wasn’t fun, trust me” she angrily whispered one centimeter away from your face.

That wasn’t the Natasha you knew, she wasn’t the same person who massaged your shoulders every night and handled you with care at all times. That was the ruthless black widow, who had to complete her goal and end the day as soon as possible.

That wasn’t the Natasha you knew, she wasn’t the same person who massaged your shoulders every night and handled you with care at all times. That was the ruthless black widow, who had to complete her goal and end the day as soon as possible.

Your eyes were filled with tears at the sight of that person you didn’t even recognize. "Why are you taking out your pain on me like this? I waited a whole month to have you back, and all you are giving me is a reason not to trust you anymore" you whispered, looking away. “Budapest”

Your safe word was loud and clear, echoing in the silent room. It was the first time you ever used it. The only thing that filled the silence were your small sobs and her loud breathing, a great contrast to the prior events.

The panic in her was obvious, her eyes going from yours to the marks she just left on your body. Her eyes were shiny, tiny droplets of sweat adorned her forehead, and her lips were red as fire. That word seemed to have snapped her out of the “widow” headspace, your Natasha was back.

A soft hand caressed your right cheek, a lonely tear escaping her eyes. “What did I do?” She whispered painfully. “W-What- I’m so sorry, I”. Her breathing was becoming faster, and her hands were trembling against you.

“Baby?” You softly called her, trying to get her to focus on you. “It’s okay, we are both okay, we are just tired”. When you tried to get her closer tho, she stood up, leaning to the nearest wall, and collapsed on the cold wooden floor.

“You shouldn’t trust me, I’m dangerous” she cried.

You took a deep breath, sitting on the edge of the bed and thinking the best way to approach her. You slowly sat on the floor, taking small steps towards the wall she was leaning on. “You aren’t dangerous, baby, you aren’t dangerous at all. They trained you to be dangerous, but here” you pointed your fingers to her heart. “Here, you are good, soft and caring. You kept your heart pure, Natasha”

Loud sobs filled the room, her stress being finally dealt with in the healthiest way. You gave her her space to cry, to feel and to take in everything that happened, it was a lot even for the strongest hero and avenger in the entire universe.

“I’m not going anywhere” you reassured her.

She slowly crawled into your caring arms, feeling your heartbeat and following the movements of your chest. Her face was wet, her eyes were swollen and her body was trembling, but you didn’t care.

Your Natasha was home, with you. “You’ll be staying here with me for a long time, I won’t be sending you to fight enemies like this. You need to take care of yourself, and I’ll help you with it. You are not alone, Nat”

You nuzzled in her hair, taking her under your protective wing while she was showing herself vulnerable. You knew that neglecting her true needs was what she was used to, but things were going to change. Sometimes we need to fight the enemies we have inside before fighting the ones that are waiting for us on the outside.

“You are safe with me, I’ll take care of you.”

[wickedlywrittenwords]

Her Bloody Shadow

Summary: Y/N moves to Travis County after inheriting an old house from a distant relative. She then notices some strange things happening around her new home after helping her neighbors. Is it all in her head or is something more sinister going on?

Warnings: Stalking, blood, animal death, gore, bondage, possessive behavior

It was a hot, dry, Texas morning when she had arrived in Fuller. She had driven several hours from the city before pulling in front of a small, abandoned house. It had belonged to an uncle she had only met once as a baby and, as the only remaining relative, he had left it to her after his death. Receiving the call from an aging lawyer with a thick accent telling her of her new property had been a surprise she was not expecting but one that was welcome.

She originally lived in a city and to say she was unhappy was an understatement. She had a shitty job with a shitty boss, her apartment was smaller then said bosses dick, and she had just gotten out of a messy relationship with a cheating prick. It had felt like the whole city was sucking the life and joy from her. So when the opportunity arose to cut ties with her old life and start a new one, she didn't give it a second thought. And thanks to her meager savings and a little money included in the inheritance, she wasn't starting her new life penniless.

Which was a rather good thing considering her new home was...well...kinda decrepit. The moment she stepped inside, she new she had her work cut out for her. Spiderwebs, dust, and dirt covered every inch of her new abode. The windows were boarded up and she highly suspected that a family of raccoons were living in the attic. Well...might as well get started.

A few days later, and Y/N was sure her lungs were 50% filled with dust. But her house was feeling more and more like a home. She had un-boarded and opened the windows, dusted, swept, and chased the raccoons from her chimney for good...hopefully. She had even got the old stove working. Which was a blessing considering both her love for baking and her plan to get her new neighbors to like her.

Y/N's new home was quite literally in the middle of nowhere with a small grocery store a small drive away and a rather large farmhouse 5 minutes down the road no doubt belonging to her new neighbors. And one thing her mom had always taught her was to try and get along with everyone she met. So what better way to introduce herself then some baked goods?

After a quick drive to the store and an hour of baking, Y/N had a little over a dozen chocolate chip cookies in a Tupperware sitting in her passenger seat as she drove up the dirt driveway of the large home. As she got out and made her way up the porch steps, she couldn't help a chill go up her spine. The house was old without a doubt. But that wasn't the problem. The atmosphere of the place...it was almost suffocating. It was causing her fight or flight instinct to scream at her. She shook her head and smiled. She was well passed the age of being scared of haunted looking houses. She knocked on the door and straightened her clothes, wanting to make a good first impression. After a few minutes of waiting, an older woman answered the door. She was a little shorter than Y/N, with white hair pulled into a messy bun and old triangle framed glasses sitting on her nose.

The woman looked Y/N up and down before smiling and speaking in a sweet southern accent.

"Why hello there. I havn't seen you around before!"

Y/N grinned. "Yes ma'am. I just moved into the house down the road. I'll be your new neighbor. My name is Y/N." She held out the plastic container holding the baked goods. "I made you some cookies to help break the ice."

The older woman took the cookies with a slight surprised look on her face. "Well isn't that sweet! My name is Luda Mae Hewitt. We don't get many visitors around these parts, let alone new neighbors. Im sure my boys would love to meet you. They are all out and about right now but I'd love to have you over for dinner to meet them. How does that sound?"

Y/N was about to accept the kind invitation when her eyes drifted over Luda Mae's shoulder. She thought she saw the silhouette of a man standing in the hall. But there was no way someone could be that big right? She looked to the older woman and then back to shadow only to find that it was gone. Was she seeing things? Maybe she was more tired than she thought.

Y/N smiled. "Im afraid I have to decline for tonight since I'm still moving in and am rather tired. Maybe another time?"

Luda Mae's smile seemed to falter for a second before returning.

"Thats no problem at all! Well I better get back to chores. So much to be done around here. We'll see you soon, dear." She said before closing the door abruptly.

Y/N just stood there for a second in confusion at the quick dismissal. She shook her head and contributed it to maybe the lady not being used to new people. Thinking nothing more of it, she returned to her car and backed out the driveway to head home.

Within the old farm house, a large shadow stood at the window and stared at the woman who was talking to his mother as she got into a car and drove away. His mother had failed to lure her into the house as usual whenever an outsider wandered into their town. Usually he would be excited for an opportunity to kill any strangers that stepped foot in their home and add their skin to his collection, but a part of him was glad the woman didn't enter the house. He didnt know why but seeing the way she smiled made his chest feel tight. She didnt seem any different than any of the others that wandered into town and ended up dead and on his table in the basement. Thankfully, his momma had said to go and keep an eye on the woman. She may be a new member of the community, but she was still an outsider. Maybe now he could find out why she made his chest feel so heavy.

The last few nights had been very tense for Y/N. She had been focusing cleaning and repairing the house so she didnt notice anything strange at first but then the signs started to be hard to ignore. First it was small things. She had her windows open at night due to the cool evenings but she had started to feel like she was being watched and hearing rustling at night. So now she kept the windows closed tight. Then she started finding things left on her porch steps. It started out as flowers and small stones but then it evolved to old pieces of broken jewelry and animal bones. Then animals started showing up. Dead ones. Raccoons, coyotes, and even some stray cats and dogs were killed and placed on her porch. Thats when she went from concerned to downright terrified.Was this a threat? Was someone trying to get her to leave? She didnt know but now she made sure her doors was locked tight and made a point never to be outside at night.

Thomas watched as his lady went about her nightly ritual of locking the doors and windows. He was kinda hurt that she didnt seem to like his gifts. He had to work very hard to get those animals and leave them at her door. But the more he watched her, the more he realized he couldnt stay mad. How could he? She was so beautiful, kind, and looked so soft. He wasnt sure but he thought he might be in love. Luda Mae had told him what love was like when he was young. She said it felt like you couldnt live without the person and would do anything to be with them. He never felt that way about anyone but his momma so he thought he'd never feel that way. But then he saw her. He knew he had to have her and keep her safe from the rest of the world. She would return his love...eventually. He was sure. He just had to show her how much he loved her and then she would love him too.

Y/N checked the locks one more time before heading upstairs to her room. She was exhausted. On top of all the repairs and cleaning, she had been stressed with the "gifts" being left at her home. Maybe moving here wasnt such a good idea... She sighed as she changed into a thin nightgown to help with the hot night. Maybe it wouldnt be a bad idea to take something to help her sleep. She went tinto the bathroom and took a sleeping pill before crawling into bed. Soon her mind grew groggy and she slipped into blissful slumber.

Thomas waited a few minutes after he saw the last light going off in the house. He snuck to the back of the house and broke through the backdoor window, opening it from the inside. when he got inside he stopped and listened to see if she had heard the noise. Being quiet wasnt easy for someone his size but with how important this was, he was going to do his best. Hearing no movement, he made his way upstairs without a sound save for his heavy breathing and the creaking of the stairs. He found the room he knew was hers and pushed the door open slowly. It was dark in the small room except for the moonlight that streamed in through the thin, lace curtains. As he finally stood over her sleeping body, Thomas felt that funny feeling in his chest again. It was like his heart was pounding out if his chest. He watched her chest raise and fall with every breath she took. Reaching out, he ran a finger down her cheek. She felt so soft and smooth. His heart stopped when she moved and mumbled in her sleep but he breathed again when she went still again. He stood up straight and looked watched her for a minute more before leaning down and gently scooping her up in a bridal hold. She mumbled some more but otherwise didnt seem to notice. He was secretly thankful that she seemed to be in such a deep sleep so she couldnt out up a fight. Now he just had to take her home. To their home.

Y/N felt a chill go through her thinly clothed body as a draft swept over her. Her blanket probably fell off her again. She moved to cover herself up again but found she couldnt mover her arm. This caused her jolt awake and immediately knew she was in trouble. She wasnt in her room anymore, hell she was sure she wasnt even in her house. She looked around before quickly realizing she was bound to an old bed. Her wrists were tied to the bars of the headboard while her legs were equally bound to bars at the foot of the bed by old ropes that bit into her limbs as she tried to pull them loose. The room was dark but not dark enough to hide the horror she was in the middle of. There were bloody hooks hanging from the ceiling with bits of flesh clinging to them. To the side of the room, was what looked like a table covered with knives and flesh. The room reeked of blood and rust. Where was she?

Her breathe came out ragged as she heard a door slam open and heavy footsteps coming down stairs. Panic coursed through her body when a large man came into view. He had long dark hair and wore a leather mask that covered most of his face. He a dirty shirt and pants covered by a tan apron covered in...was that blood!?

She tensed as he moved closer to her, his large frame casting a shadow over her smaller one. Was he going to kill her? He leaned down, causing her to flinch. Instead of pain or a strike, she felt a large, warm hand on the side of her face. She opened her eyes and saw that the man was staring at her as he ran his thumb over her cheek, heavy breathes coming from the mask and washing over her face.

"Please...let me go...I won't tell anyone about this, I swear." Y/N gasped out the words in fear, hoping against hope the hulking man would listen to her.

A soft grunt came from him as his thumb paused. Instead of answering her pleas, his hand moved down her face. He traced over her lips with feather-light touches and continued down her throat to her chest. There he placed his hand flat as though trying to feel her heartbeat and the rapid rise and falls her breathing caused. The heat from his large hand, spread through her chest along with the panic at his every movement. His gaze roamed over her body, as if he was taking in every inch and committing it to memory. Y/N closed her eyes and willed herself to be still, afraid that any movement or sound might turn his soft touches into pain.

Thomas was having a hard time keeping himself under control as he felt the soft skin under his hand. He didnt want to scare her or rush but he couldnt help himself. She was finally in his home. She was finally his. Of course he noticed how terrified she was and how fast her heart beat at his touch. But she would learn. Momma said that love sometimes took time. And she would have a long, long time to learn to love his touches, his presence, his ways. To love him. He'd make sure of it.

[h0nkch0c0late]

hiii, bestie<33 i'm sure you didn't expect me here at all. it's not like i said a moment ago that i’d do it 🙄

i would like to ask for another angst, because my soul feeds on my suffering. i was thinking of dean x reader, where our dear sweetest reader, who is also a hunter, has feelings for dean who is a role model and such a hero to her and she finally decides to tell him everything and he is like "🧍‍♀️" because he only sees her as a younger sister 🫣

thank you!!<3 byeeee

AAAAAAAAA YESSSS

Like a Sister

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: As a hunter, you learned from a very young age that you shouldn't get into relationships. Meeting the oldest Winchester brother changed this idea for you, but unfortunately, he doesn't feel the same.

WARNING(S): Unrequited love, rejection, mild swearing, angst

Dean Winchester was your biggest role model, and practically a hero.

You were only four years younger than him, being Sam's age.

And, just like the brothers, you had been in the hunting life ever since you could walk.

You had met the brothers during the first time they had been up against Lucifer, and since then, had always been a phone call away.

To your luck, they always needed your help. At least, that's what Dean always told you.

And this time it was no different. Well, not so different other than you had developed feelings for Dean over the past couple of months and had been working up the courage to tell him.

You were sure that he felt the same about you. The way he hugged you was different than how he hugged other people, and, in cases where you had almost died, well...let's just say there were tears and lots of yelling involved on his part.

...well, that's what you thought at least.

So, here you were, hunting down a nest of vamps. Sam and Dean were in the middle of a very petty fight, and had separated from doing hunts together, so it was only you and Dean this time.

And you were determined to tell him your feelings.

-----------

The hunt was going fairly well, you and Dean had killed (what you thought was) all of the vamps.

As you both breathed heavily, covered in blood that was definitely not your own, you began to build up your courage to tell him everything.

"Hey Dean?" You began, your voice uncharacteristically quiet.

He turned to you, "What's up?" He asked, his eyebrows quirked in curiosity.

"I...have something important to tell you." You say as you begin to walk closer to him.

He chuckled, "What could be more important than celebrating our win?" He questioned, clueless as ever.

You gulped, noticing how close to the two of you were as you looked at him, "I...I've looked up to you for a while. You're practically my hero! In fact...as of recently, you've kinda...become more than a hero to me? And I...just wanted to tell you..."

His eyes tore away from you as he noticed movement. An extra vamp you two hadn't accounted for was beginning to sneak up behind you, no doubt trying to catch you by surprise and failing. "Move!" He yelled at you before you could finish what you were saying, slightly pushing you out of the way and making you stumble as he he lifted his machete and took off the vamp's head.

Having your heart racing once more from the scare of the vamp, and now being covered in even more blood, you shook off your nerves, wiping away the imaginary dirt that littered your knees.

"Sorry." Dean apologized, turning to you once again, "what were you gonna say? Other than the whole "you're my hero" thing?"

You tensed, blinking furiously at him a couple times as you tried to regroup your thoughts and gather your courage once more, "I...I-uh, I like you. I have very very strong feelings for you. And I really hope you feel the same because then I'll just feel like an idiot, but I am really really into you." You ranted, making sure that nothing could cut you off again.

Your confidence in his feelings began to run thin as you watched him freeze, dropping the blood covered machete to the ground as he stared at you wide eyed.

The air around you fell thick with silence as Dean gathered his thoughts, clearly shaken by the confession that had just taken place.

You saw his chest rise as he took in a deep breath, his eyes going from wide to now guilty as his lips formed a frown, "Look, kid, I..." He began.

You felt your heart begin to crack as you knew where he was getting at. He wouldn't have called you "kid" otherwise.

"You're cool and all, I'm I'm glad you think of me as some sort of role model, but...listen, I don't feel the same. I think of you as a younger sister, you know?" He told you, trying to let you down as gentle as possible.

You felt your eyes beginning to get glazed with tears as the man before you broke your heart even more.

"I don't want this to change anything between us, okay? You'll always be a little sister to me. Can we just...pretend like this never happened?" He asked. He felt horrible, hurting you like that. But what choice did he have? He didn't want to lie to you, and it was impossible for him to see you in any other light than as a sister.

You quickly wiped away the tears that had managed to fall as you attempted to gather the broken pieces, clearing your throat as you nodded, "Yeah...can we-uh-can we just go? I wanna get cleaned up." You dismissed, your voice cracking.

Dean nodded, turning and making his way towards the impala.

You followed behind, staring at the ground as you plopped yourself into the backseat, not even daring to look at the man before you.

The ride to the bunker was silent, and as the both of you separated (you getting into your own car, and Dean making his way to the entrance of the bunker), not a word was spoken. No goodbye, no "thank you", you just left.

You wanted to believe that nothing would change between the two of you, but the thought of seeing him after he broke your heart...it was an impossible task.

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

:))))))) @pinchofhoney <33

[devouringbodies]

Hey I'm Rain. Here I mostly post about hannibal, horror, and various rural, gothic and darker aesthetics. This is a side blog technically, but I'm on this one full time. I follow back from @florihist.

24 | she/they | bisexual

General warnings for this blog, I don't tag gore or animal death, both of which you will find here, along with various horror content, bones, blood, taxidermy, meat and organs, sex, murder, cannibalism, necrophilia and incest.

I've got various aesthetic tags, most of them are always a work in progress tbh. I'll go back and retag things sometimes if I either forgot or think it needs to be in another or new category. My tag meanings are loose and maybe only make sense to me lol, but I'll try to explain most of them here.

Mind Stream - will graham core

Memory Palace - hannibal lecter core

If You Died Tomorrow I Would Eat Your Corpse - my hannigramcore tag, also just cannibalism and dark eroticism in general

Raincore - personal aesthetic posts

🪰(fly emoji) - original posts

Abigailcore - posts of or that remind me of abigail hobbs

Mylimacore - mischa lecter core, in a somewhat au version of her that lives in my head where she survived and grew up with hannibal

In The Stag's Footsteps - anything specifically deer related

These Feral Things - anything animal or insect related

God Owes Me - religious imagery, reflective of my exposure to religion growing up and the mindset I developed about it in retaliation

Return To Dirt - western, horses, cowboy aesthetics

The Home That Misses You - homes and houses, creepy or otherwise

The Woman In The Wallpaper - reference to the book 'the yellow wallpaper', mostly imagery or art of abstract women, women facing away from the audience, or any art depicting haunting or mysterious women

Exsanguinate Her - women or any people really, covered in blood

Tear Me Apart Start With This Heart - organs, anatomical hearts mostly

I Still Feel Your Teeth - teeth imagery

And Being You Must Be Hard To Swallow - kinda hard to describe, but relates to my own self destructive tendencies, a visual manifestation of violence and low self esteem. Usually weapons and blood in this tag.

Ochre - brown, yellow, and warm toned aesthetics, kinda a catch all tag for the uncategorizable, sometimes more about vibes tbh so if the actual pic is truly cool toned shhhh idc

Azure - just the opposite of the above, cool toned imagery

[sayurifellfrost]

Warmth

Someone killed Haeferic, apparently. Grym decided it was my job to check it out.. I just wanted some fucking sleep.

Vex quietly wanders the area, gaze glued to the shrubs below as she kicks around in the dirt - moving the occasional bush with her foot seemingly in search of something. The ground by her is stained with blood, dried and at least a few suns old and weather worn. She seems to be stuck in her own little world, for now.

Mahi'a had stuck close to the cliffside for the vast majority of their journey, taking what protection it could offer while avoiding the main roads through Thanalan as well as the shade provided in the hottest part of the day. Only once catching sight of the waterfalls did they veer away, semi-certain of the direction they were headed - more so at the sight of a figure not far off, an indication of civilisation once again. They kept their distance for the most part, pausing once catching sight of the stained ground at her feet. A little more caution thrown to the wind, they move closer to get a better look. "Are you alright?" they eventually call out, both the ground and Miqo'te given looks of mild concern.

Vex's ears swivel as a voice calls out, head lifting and gaze scanning the area before she turns herself to look in the direction the voice came from - a look of surprise on her features. “... Yes.” Her response is brief, her gaze moving down to the stained ground before returning to the Keeper a short distance away. “.. It’s-.. not.. mine.”

.. I didn’t expect any company. Maybe a Brass Blade or two to harrass me until they saw Grym’s mark.. Or maybe Gala’ra and Burwenna to check on me to ensure I was actually working.. But not this person.

Mahi'a nods, drawing closer still - a response enough of a friendly gesture for their liking. A frown appears on their features as they're able to get a better look at the bloodstained earth. "I should hope not, that seems like a fair bit of blood," they muse. "I can see why you might stop to look. It could be an animals at least?"

Vex raised a hand to her neck, lightly scratching at it. ".. It was a guy." Her hand dropped back down, her foot shifting in a small swing to kick a nearby pebble across the shrubs. "-- I'm not involved, for the record. Was just.. someone I knew of. Folks weren't sure what killed him so.. here I am."

"...Oh." Mahi'a stares a little longer at the old blood, slightly more uncertain than they had been beforehand. "That is... sad. I wasn't going to assume you were involved, though! No, don't worry. I mean, they do say criminals return to the scene of the crime, yet I always assumed that was something they made up for stories. Easier for fictional investigators to catch them..." they trail off, looking back to her with a small smile. "Then I suppose you are the investigator in this case."

"It's good that you're looking out for them."

Vex grimaced slightly, a hand rising to rub two fingers under her eyes. She looks quite weary, up-close. ".. No? People tend to be quick to jump to assumptions in these parts. I'm sure a Brass Blade would've harrassed me for being here." A small shrug followed, Vex's tired gaze settling atop their newfound company. ".. Not by choice, admittedly. Guy who's dead was.." She paused, thoroughly considering her next words. ".. A bit of an ass. Kinda had it coming."

..”A bit of an ass” doesn’t bloody cover what Haeferic was. One of Lumir’s initiates. Torturer. One can only hope whatever - or whoever - killed him made him suffer.

"Thankfully I am not a Brass Blade!" they say brightly, before pausing. "Do they know this happened here? A fair way from the road, but even so, it could indicate the area is less safe than they're aware of..." Mahi'a dwells on the thought for a few long moments, tuning back into her explanation afterwards. "Enough of an ass to warrant being murdered? What did he do?"

".. They know. One of them.. let us know." A faint look of distaste settled on her features, albeit it quickly faded once more. Her hands shoved into her pockets and her brow furrowed, a prolonged silence lingered as she considered her words much longer than she probably should've. "..Hurt people." Her attention settles upon Mahi'a anew, head tilting. "..What are you doing out here? Most people.. tend to stick to the roads."

.. I fucking hate refering to them as ‘us’.

"That's good, probably," Mahi'a reasoned with a nod. "Apart from the fact that means they may send more people down here, don't get harrassed by them if you can avoid it!" They spare a look beyond her in the presumed direction of the road, thankfully no Brass Blades in sight as far as they could tell. Her explanation is given yet another frown, gaze remaining thoughtfully on the foliage ahead until a question is directed back to them in turn. "Well, I am starting to get an idea of why."

"In theory it's a shorter way through, and spares me the embarrassment of struggling with the heat where everyone can see me on the roads," they explain with a shrug, loose as fast with their focus on the question. "And I have to hope that my previous assumption was correct, and you won't take the opportunity to make more of a mess here!"

".. I mean-.. fair." Vex couldn't help but to offer a weak smile, albeit brief. She shakes her head, then, letting a small frown settle on her features. "No, I won't hurt you.. There are enough people like that in the world.. Granted the word of a stranger isn't much go to by, I suppose."

Mahi'a returns the smile, seemingly having no deep doubt that they were in any danger to begin with. "It is enough, and I will take it! I assume it would have happened before now if it was going to anyway, I doubt most attackers stop and have a chat in the middle of nowhere if they don't have to. It may even deter anyone who would dare to see two here instead of one!"

".. Kinda dangerous, don't you think?" Vex lofted a brow, shoulders drawing into a small shrug.  ".. Some people bide their time. Let your guard lower.. Then strike." She paused, eyeing the staff Mahi'a kept with them. ".. You can probably defend yourself, though."

I know enough people who use that as an M.O... Lull victims into a false sense of security and fuck them over when they expect it the least.

... Lets hope that staff isn’t just for show.

"A bit! It's hard to avoid every bit of danger, however, plus that would be rather boring. If a murderer decided to attack me after talking for half a bell or so, wouldn't that make for a better story to tell afterwards? Assuming I lived, anyway," Mahi'a added after a brief thought. "I would like to think so! Nothing to worry about, you see. The same for you, obviously, your own weapon is... interesting." Their head tilts, observing what they could of the shape of the sheathed weaponry.

".. If it's a murderer. Could just as well be a kidnapper." Vex rocked lightly on her feet, hands still on her pockets and her posture relaxed enough that she probably doesn't consider Mahi'a a threat. ".. Telling someone that someone tried to kill you.. is an interesting story..?" She questions, a curious brow lofting. ".. It's.. a scythe. Not the most.. common weapon, I suppose."

Mahi'a grimaces at that thought, ending up shaking their head dismissively, more so to rid themselves of it. "Unlikely, I'd like to think I am more trouble than I am worth," they quickly joke lightly. "It could be, it would depend what happens. And everything would be equally as good for bragging considering my survival!" They talk on while continuing to examine the scythe from where they stand, eye following the length of it passing behind her back. "No, not really. Why not a sword? Or... axe?"

".. That makes two of us." The words left her as a sigh, brows furrowing just a touch. "I.. suppose..?" Another rock, back and forth. ".. It wasn't by choice. A scythe was simply.. put in my hands. I was told to learn how to use it as a weapon."

They dip their head in a nod, smiling despite their curiosity over her own expression. "Told to learn to use a scythe," Mahi'a says to themselves thoughtfully. "How does that work? Who would tell anyone to use a specific weapon like that? Especially such a unique one. Does that mean you had to learn all by yourself?"

Vex's ears pin back, gaze directing elsewhere. She spends a prolonged time quiet, taking another moment to consider her words which leave her with some hesitation. "..Scythe put in my hands, then me in front of an angry beast. Someone nearby to keep the beast from killing me if I failed." Her gaze returns to them as she speaks. "None specified in the weapon to help me learn, just someone to watch me."

Her answer prompts a period of silence, Mahi'a staring at her as they process it, landing somewhere between faint horror and outrage. "What - why?" they ask, once words start forming again. "Why would anyone do something like that? Even with someone nearby that's... all far too much."

.. I couldn’t fight them. Ariq was unwilling to have the mark’s grip eased of me..

Azeyma knows I’d burn him alive the moment I got the chance to.. Even back then.

A hand leaves her pocket and rises to her face, scratching at her cheek ever so slightly. Another silence follows, as Vex carefully considers her next words. ".. Didn't.. care." She mumbled. ".. I couldn't f-.." Her voice halts abruptly, a faint grimace of pain taking to her features before she turns her head aside, the hand which had bee scratching at her cheek moving to instead scratch at the back of her neck, a finger cramming in between the collar and her skin. She stays quiet for a little longer, before exhaling a sharp breath. "..None that I could.. spar."

.. I hate this fucking collar.

Mahi'a concern rears its head once again at her grimace, yet without any noticeable danger in the area around her they slowly let it go - for that thought alone. "Are you well out here?" they end up asking, examining her expression. "Or have I - I'm sorry if I've made you answer what you'd rather not dwell on. It all just... seems terribly unfair from what you've said so far."

Vex's gaze dipped to the ground at the question, head shifting into a slow shake. "You've not made me answer anything, I could've chosen not to if it bothered me." She once again, rocked on her heels. ".. And you're right. It -is- unfair.. But there's not anything that can be done for it."

They seem a little relieved by that at the very least, diverting their attention away from her in an attempt to help, eyeing the blood on the ground instead. "Are they people that you still see now? If they are, maybe something -can- be done about it, somehow," Mahi'a offers. "Though if you've moved on, best not to dig these things up again."

".. Not by choice, but yes." She grimaced, then shook her head. ".. No. I have tried.. They're not keen on.. letting things go."

.. Or people.

Mahi'a gives a quiet hum, frowning to themselves. "Even if someone else helped? With... whatever could be needed. Was this guy one of those people?" they ask suddenly as an afterthought, a hand gesturing with a wave down to the blood.

".. The said person would put themselves in danger." Vex's gaze lowers to the blood at the gesture, a brief pause lingering before she nodded. "He was."

"But they could help, maybe? Some danger to stop it from continuing is hardly a poor trade, it sounds rather worthwhile to me," Mahi'a determines, looking back up to her briefly with a smile. "I understand even more why you considered him an ass. Yet you still need to come here and look into him?"

".. Danger for an attempt that is likely feeble." She frowned. "They won't.. let go.." Her head lowered, frown deepening in a more saddened manner than anything else. ".. Yes."

"It's hard to say unless someone tries, right? And even with what little you've said, it doesn't seem right just to... leave it all and not bother. Not when it's a situation you so clearly don't want to be in." Mahi'a shifts their weight from one foot to another, frowning to themselves while they think. "I mean, I could ask... friends. I am not saying it could only be one person trying to do something."

.. It kills me to turn away offered help when people understand my situation.. But with the numbers Grym have, I-..

I do not want to be the cause of someone’s death like that.

Vex shook her head slightly. ".. Too many. I appreciate it, truly.. But you, or your friends, would.. likely suffer dearly for it."

Mahi'a frowns further, for a moment they almost launch into another argument, yet pull it back before it can be voiced. Instead they hesitate. "Will you be... reasonably safe? Are you going to be hurt?"

".. Safer than normal, but.. I'll probably get hurt, yes." She rocked back and forth once more, gaze settling on the blood. "..Worst of them is.. occupied with another."

.. Grym himself is busied with X’llaya’s presence. He’ll leave me alone for the most part, but.. I dread what he has in store for her.

"...Right," they say quietly, disappointed yet unsurprised by the answer. Mahi'a's interest is piqued further, however, and they tap their fingers against a hip while thinking. "Someone else like you? That they won't let go?"

".. There are many like it. Stuck." Vex's explaination seems.. a touch vague, brows furrowing in thought for her next words. ".. We are.. alike, yet not. I am allowed outside." Her hands connected in front of her, fidgeting as she again glanced at the blood.

Mahi'a nods once, more so in acknowledgement than understanding, the vague answers both frustrating and unnerving. "Why can't they go outside too? Can none of the others who are stuck come out here?"

Vex furrows her brows, seemingly struggling to put her words together as she again lingers in a prolonged silence. ".. Some. Members can. But-.. not.." She exhales a sharp breath, frowning at her own limited speech of the matter. ".. Caged."

.. People like me, who have been made to join the ranks by force..

.. Or people who have been caged, meant to be sold as slaves.

.. But I can’t tell you this. Not in as much detail as I’d like.

"He was a member?" Mahi'a asks to clarify, pointing a hand towards the blood. "Or... different? Worse?" They chew on the inside of their cheek meanwhile, putting together what they can. "You can't talk about this very much. Because of these people? Would they do something?"

Vex nodded slightly, gesturing towards the blood. "..Willing." She stated, then motioned to herself. ".. Not." She looked over to Mahi'a, pausing.. Her brows furrowed and she took a deep breath, looking as if she was about to regret -something-. "..Sl-.." Her voice cuts, as it had done once already - pain taking to her features and both her hands raising to grip at the collar around her neck, yanking it several times in an attempt to show that it is preventing her, and won't come off.

... Slavers.

.. I can’t even say the word. They made sure I couldn’t. I can’t explain what this collar does.. but I could show it.. even if just a little..

Mahi'a gives a faint sigh. "Right, I see," they murmur. As she speaks again their gaze returns to her, only for their eyes to widen at her reaction. There's no misunderstanding her explanation, as wordless as it is, and they take a few worried steps closer. "Can I not do anything about that, at least? Can it be broken? Stopped?"

Vex shook her head slightly, letting her hands release the collar and fall back down to her sides. ".. Have.. tried.." She exhaled, her tone hinting at the pain that had been caused by her attempt to speak.

Mahi'a expression falls further, the collar gaining a glare as they briefly examine it before returning their attention to her. "I - I'm sorry. There has to be something, though, this can't be forever," they insist.

A pause lingers, brows furrowing slightly. "Already.. been.. a long time.." She sighed, lowering her head. ".. I will.. endure."

"There'll be a way to stop it, to stop them," Mahi'a says with a nod, as well as a faint smile. "I'm sorry that I made it hurt you, I won't... ask anything else about them. It's not going to do it again if I ask for your name, is it?"

".. It's okay." Vex forced a small smile, ears drooping. ".. No, it won't. My name is Vex."

Mahi'a appears relieved, smile brightening a bit even if hers may be forced. "There's that, at least. The... unfortunate circumstances all around, it is still good to meet you, I'm Mahi'a. Hopefully your investigation is going a little less painfully than answering my questions."

".. Nice to meet you too, Mahi'a." Her smile turned a touch more genuine, at that, although fading quickly. "Yet answering your questions was more preferable.. I don't.. care what happened to him.. But they want answers."

"How are you meant to find out in the end? It feels as if they've given you an impossible task, unless that was the point of sending you out here in the first place," Mahi'a says with a shake of their head.

".. It wouldn't be the first time." She peered down at the blood. ".. The Brass Blades have already been here, stomping all over it.. anything I could've found was probably removed, or ruined, by them."

"Can you go back and explain that? Or will they be angry? That's probably a fairly stupid question," they sigh.

"It won't satisfy them.. But at least being out here lets me be away from them.. for a time."

"Yes, that's true! A desperately needed break, even if it does mean staring at an old patch of blood on the ground..." Said helpful patch of blood is glanced to. "Hopefully you can draw it out as long as possible. A -very- thorough investigation, even if it may not lead to anything substantial."

"I've already come back several times the past three suns or so since it happened.. Any trail is long gone, and already was the first sun.. But I will keep coming here until they realise."

Mahi'a grins at that. "You are very good at wasting their time. Do you not get bored, though? Or is the quiet enough to enjoy it?"

Vex manages to flash a genuine smile, then. "Wasting their time. Pissing them off. Always been good at it." She rolls her shoulders slightly. ".. Sure, I get bored.. But the silence is good, and.. I can have the occasional nap, as.. my sleep keep getting disrupted back there."

.. Vairg enjoys tormenting my neighbour too much..

Twelve, I hope someone wipes that bloody smirk off his face.

"Important traits, I wager! Little victories, yet I hope they don't get you too hurt if they rise up to them," they add, with another small amount of concern. "I'm glad you can find the benefits to it. As long as the Brass Blades don't catch you napping beside a bush and suspicious pools of blood, anyway..."

".. I live yet." Her shoulders dragged into a small shrug. ".. Better hope it's the right Brass Blade, take one look at me then leave me alone."

"That sounds like it's happened before," Mahi'a points out with another grin. "I... hm. I should probably continue my journey at some point, unless I really am destined to come across the same fate that this ass did. Are you going to be alright out here?"

Vex nodded slightly, before tilting her head. ".. Don't let me keep you. If you're lucky.. it's someone seeking these." She raised a hand to her red marked cheek, tapping at it. ".. So they won't touch you. And yes, I.. will be fine."

Mahi'a gives a hesitant nod. "If I'm lucky, maybe, not so lucky for yourself," they comment, adding afterwards with a small smile: "But you've been out here, I'm sure you can be careful. It has been good speaking to you, and I... really do hope that there is a change for you in the near future."

".. I'll be fine. I'm a decent enough fighter if someone decides to attack me.. I appreciate the concern, though." One ear flattens, while the other perks up. ".. It's been good speaking to you too, travel safe."

"I will do! Enjoy your silence, or a nap, whatever you choose to investigate next!" Mahi'a says, dipping their head in a small bow of farewell. The blood on the ground is given another look, briefly, though they don't linger and continue to head off.

.. Good bye, Mahi’a.

I pray they leave you be.

[peakyblindersxx]

hey can you do one in which Tommy and his wife are fucking but are interrupted by their many children

take care -  tommy shelby x wife!reader

gif by @eriklehnsherryes tysm for blessing us w/this cause i fuckin needed it

a/n: ok domestic!tommy is slowly turning my brain into mush cause that’s how much i love him. but i really loved writing this, it’s super fluffy and cute cause tommy as a dad makes my heart hurt (in a good way) and i hope you enjoy!!! 

love, abi xxx

my masterlist

tagging: @lilymurphy03

warnings: nsfw!! smut, tommy is very skilled with his hands ok have you seen them, just a bunch of fluff at the end :)

Soft wasn’t a word many people used to describe Tommy Shelby. Yet, in the glow of the early morning light shining in through the windows, with his arms gripping you tightly to him, dark, thick eyelashes framing his face, that’s the word you would use to describe him. For a man who had been wracked by pain his entire life, he looked so pure sleeping next to you, you couldn’t help but press a kiss to his lips, causing him to grunt slightly, tugging you even closer, calloused hands running against the soft skin of your hips.

“Wanna fuck?” He mumbled, voice raspy with sleep, and you couldn’t help but laugh in response. 

“Jesus, Tom, is that all you think about?” 

He grinned earnestly. “Kinda hard when you look so pretty all pressed up against me, Mrs. Shelby.” Tommy loved the blush that spread across your face when he called you by his name, reminding him that you were his. Sometimes, he almost couldn’t believe that out of all the people in the world to be with, you chose him. You saw the blood on his hands, the dirt on his feet, and you still chose him. The most beautiful thing in the world, and you picked him, a ruthless, notorious gangster to have your children with. To hell if he was going to let anyone get in between the two of you. He had to show you how much you meant to him, needed to make you feel what he felt by just looking at you. God, you were still irresistible to him even after five years. He didn’t think he’d ever get over the way you felt around him, crying out to God as he made your eyes roll back in your head.

Just thinking about it was enough to motivate him into moving, quickly covering your body with his, lips messy against yours, letting out a groan as he felt your hips push up against his stiff cock. 

“Miss how you look with my cock in you,” Tommy grunted, pressing kisses down your neck.

“We fucked yesterday, Tommy.”

“Feels like it’s been weeks,” He muttered in reply, teeth nipping at your collarbone, causing you to shudder. His fingers found your clit easily, rubbing slow circles as you let a moan escape your lips, biting down on his shoulder as he slipped a finger inside of you, pressing up against your g-spot. You squirmed underneath him, prompting him to let up only to replace his fingers with his tongue, dark brown hair messy from where you were tugging at it as he teased your slit with his mouth. 

“Need you,” you managed to get out as he dipped his tongue into you, sending your vision spinning. “Tommy, please..”

You were exactly how Tommy wanted you, desperate for his touch. He reveled in the way he could rile you up, drinking in every inch of you whining for him, and only him. His name on your lips was almost too much for him, yet he held out, practically growling into your cunt out of lust for you. The vibrations sent your hips bucking wildly, pleas falling out of your lips freely as he refused to let up, lips firmly around your clit as you came on his fingers, taking in the sight of you pleading for him to do something, anything with hungry eyes. 

“Don’t worry, love,” Tommy grunted, pressing the head of his cock into you slowly. “I’ll take care of you.” He had just fully entered you, the burn of him stretching you out fading into pleasure as he started to thrust himself inside of you when you heard small footsteps padding against the carpet and a soft knock at the door. You sighed, momentarily caught up in the irritation of being interrupted. Tommy chuckled at your reaction, quickly slipping off of you and tugging on his underwear that he’d previously discarded and tossing you his crumpled dress shirt from last night, you pulling it over your shoulders.

“Don’t be too upset, beautiful. M’not done with you yet,” He drawled, causing you to smile as he opened the door to reveal your three year old, Anna. 

“Daddy, I woke up, and I can’t go back to sleep,” she pouted, as Tommy picked her up, balancing her on one arm. The way he looked at her made your heart melt, blue eyes adoringly trained on her small frame, fussing over her hair.  

“S’alright, darlin’, let’s get you dressed, yeah?” He cooed in response, pinching her cheek lightly as she giggled.

“Mommy, are you coming too?” Another voice chimed in, a head of messy brown hair peeping in from the doorframe. You should have known that John wasn’t far behind, the already mischievous five-year-old always up to something. 

“Of course, honey. Just let me get dressed, and I’ll be there in a minute, okay?” You replied, both kids taking the opportunity to scramble into the bedroom, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before running out, determined to get into some kind of trouble.

“I’ll go after them, don’t want John trying to ride the dogs all over the house again,” Tommy rumbled, walking to your closet to quickly dress himself, clad in only an undershirt and pants as he pressed a passionate kiss to your lips. “And we’ll get back to that later, eh?” He grinned cheekily.

You couldn’t help but smile in response, rolling your eyes as he made his way out of the room, an insatiable grin still plastered to his face. God, you were fucking lucky.

[colossalcriminal]

You asked for ideas so here’s mine. You don’t have to write it I just thought it was cool.

An unsub kidnaps y/n and spencer when they go undercover

They make y/n choose between her life or Spencer’s. Spencer begs her not to but reader chooses to sacrifice herself. To buy time (she has a hunch or gut feeling that the team is coming) she confessed her love to Spencer to delay her death at the unsubs hands.

Does the team get there too late or just in time? I’ll leave that up to you

Suicidal Ideation - s.r

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Death isn't something to fear, but it can always be stalled.

Content warnings: Violence, so much talk of death its unreal, kidnapping, near death, kinda unreciprocated feelings, not really a happy ending.

Dennis Rollins was a textbook narcissist who took pleasure in murdering the young women of Richmond, Virginia.

After six long hours of reevaluating their profile, doubting their outcomes, the BAU had once again succeeded in finding their culprit, sending in Agents Reid and L/N undercover.

Their 'mission' had been going fairly well, until the pair escaped to a more secluded area to report back to the team, only to black out and wake up in an empty barn of some kind.

Death had always been a lingering subject. Y/N didn't fear death, no, instead she pondered it during the mundane hours of the day, perhaps even predicting her own demise. Some would say this isn't normal.

Would she die in a tragic car crash? Possibly while on a grueling case at the hands of an unsub. Maybe she'd endure the embarrassment of getting hit by a car.

She didn't even shed a tear, despite her hostage situation. Wrists bound together behind them by insultingly coarse rope, both agents on their knees covered in dirt and splatters of blood from the several strikes they'd endured.

"Alright." Dennis' gruff voice had echoed throughout the barn. "I'm going to be very polite, and let you decide who gets to die, hm?" It was his sickly sweet tone that made her stomach drop.

"Me."

Spencer's head snapped towards his friend, mouth agape and brow raised in worry. "No, Y/N. We need you. I need you." All training he'd learned, all he had read about dealing with unsubs such as Dennis had disappeared.

"The team can do without me, Spencer. They need their resident genius." Her minuscule smile was pained.

"Y/N, please."

His begging wasn't enough. Why wasn't it enough?

How was he supposed to tell her he could never be the same without her?

A shiver ran down her spine as a faint clicking of a gun was heard over Spencer's quiet whimpers.

Cool metal pressed against her forehead, the reason for her untimely death. She wouldn't fear death, instead she would welcome it with open arms like an old friend. A sudden change in heart, Y/N's eyes snapped open. "I, uh, I need to say something first."

With a nod and a roll of his eyes, Dennis kept the barrel of the gun planted firmly on her head.

She turned her head to look her colleague, her friend, in the eye. "I've always loved you, Spencer. I always will."

Vision clouded with tears, his body had been overcome with shock at the confession, just about flinching at the sound of a gunshot, then another, and Hotch kicking in the door.

-

Everything was too bright, the slight buzzing of the lights contributing to the major headache she woke up with.

Y/N wanted to chuckle at her skill, staring death right in the eye and kicking its ass. Thankfully, when Dennis went to pull the trigger, she'd grabbed the weapon and pulled down. Her swift defense had resulted in a minor wound on her thigh, and a very injured unsub.

She turned, letting out a relieved giggle at Spencer's half asleep frame, confirmation she truly wasn't dead. "You're awake." He rasped. "Are you okay? Do you want me to call the doctor?"

"I'm fine, don't call yet." She placed her hand over his, heart soaring at the boyish smile that graced his lips.

"About what you said-"

Nodding, the woman sighed. "I hope we can move past it, I needed a distraction for Dennis and I knew the team would be there in time." Why was she lying? Surely both of them knew that the adoration in her eyes and lovesick grin on her lips couldn't be anything less than legitimate.

Stomach churning, Spencer silently agreed.

"Hey." Anderson walked into the room, greeting his wife with a kiss on the cheek. "How are you feeling?"

Y/N pursed her lips, nodding, hoping he'd leave the subject alone. "Did you bring juice?" It was the one thing she always asked him to bring.

The agent groaned in frustration, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, babe. I forgot."

Disappointment evident in her voice, her response was curt. "Okay."

"I'll go get it." The genius volunteered, already standing.

"Thanks, Reid." Anderson smirked.

"Yeah, thank you, Spencer." She smiled, tears troubled her sight.

Spencer never forgot anything.

[thefanbasewhore]

Jealous

Summary || Bucky gets jealous on a mission

Warning || implied smut, jealous Bucky, a little rough towards the end

Paring || Bucky Barnes x reader

His jaw his set sharp, locked into a teeth grinding grimace. Clearly unamused as he watches the way his girl leans over the bar, flirty eyes make even him breathless.

The poor man at the bar is at the ends of her affection, even though Bucky wishes it was himself, the dirt ball has no idea what's he's getting into. She's too woman for anyone to handle.

The club is crowded, bright neon colored lights shine through the shadow of darkness. It's loud, between the music and chattering. There's way too much movement and noise and Bucky can't stand it, it's sensory overload. He doesn't take it very well, kinda dizzy but shifting on the uncomfortable, sad excuse of a booth, eyes never leave his girl, even when she reaches over to stroke the man's arms, up until she cups his face.

"Bucky, you look pissed." Sam laughs through the mic and as a result Bucky rolls his eyes, finally ripping his gaze away to press the ear piece closer.

"Shut up, Sam."

"You know, she's doing a pretty good job. Touching his cheek, a nice touch." Bucky frowns at his words, looking over to see just that, rubbing the globes of his cheeks as she pushes herself closer, whispering something into his ear.

Bucky knows the feel all to well, being under the mercy of this woman. She's beautiful and kind, it's hard not to fall instantly in love but the problem is, she is his. She should be stroking his cheek, enjoying the burn of his beard when she kisses it, whispering naughty things into his ear, not the stupid, drug criminal they've been assigned to hunt down.

His eyes never leave the sight, even when her eyes flicker to his own from across the room. The sight alone is enough to have her shaking in her heels, Bucky's displeased, she can tell by the way the steel blues stare right into her soul, the muscle moving in his jaw as he clenches his teeth together. He watches one more time as she places a kiss to the shell of his year, no doubt whispering words that will run his blood cold.

"She's quite good at that." Bucky's snaps his head to the blonde man in front of him, lip rising in distaste at the choice of words.

Zemo only smirk, understanding the man's frustration. "She's a beautiful girl, clearly only has eyes for you though, keeps looking over here. Seems good at her job."

"Shut up."

"You are jealous, no?"

"I said shut up."

"Better look, here she comes now, James."

Bucky is unprepared, quietly starting to freak out as he watches her near. With every step and clank of her heels, his heart beats faster and faster until she stops right at the edge of the table.

With her this close, he's finally able to look at her. The colors shine so beautiful against her skin, small specks of glitter, no doubt from her lotion shine across her shoulders, down the valley of her breast and disappear into her dress before decorating her bare legs again.

Bucky gulps, actually gulps as she leans over. No doubt maintaining her cover but as she does so,pressing her breast together, and when Bucky sees Zemo glance down, just for a second, something just snaps.

His arm hits the table so loud that the majority of the club turns back to look over at the sources, in an instant Bucky is reaching over the table, metal arm wrapping around his throat. "Look at her again, I'll kill you."

"Bucky." She grits with clenched teeth, hand curling around the metal wrist, "Let him go, now."

Bucky huffs, leaning back into the booth. The annoyance is clear and written all over his face as he looks up, testing her with his eyes. Scolding eyes threatening him but he clearly does not care. "Don't look at me like that, honey, you're testing my patience today."

"We are on a mission." She whisper-yells, face pinching in annoyance.

"Yeah, we were supposed to talk to him. Not kissing him." Those kisses were meant for him, not done criminal sleeze ball.

"You're impossible! He wouldn't talk to me until I flirted a little."

***

Hours pass, and finally, finally the man cracks. Telling all of his secrets and Bucky is more than relieved. The car ride back is filled with silence, tension fills the air between all four of them, Zemo and Sam try to break it a few times but Bucky doesn't matter a word.

Bucky continues that streak throughout the night, silently heading for the shower the moment he steps into the house.

It's late, her feet throb from the heels, but it's just a small ache, nothing she can't handle.

"Are you jealous?" She finally asks after laying in bed for what seemed like a good hour, shifting onto her side to look at him.

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"No."

She snorts, hands roam the musclar planes of his bare chest. Feeling over the swell pecs, up his throat until both hands cup his face. The thought of doing the same to that man makes his jaw clenches under her fingers.

"Buck, you know no matter what I'll always want you, right?"

"Doesn't mean I have to like it, you are my girl, mine." He brings her wrist to his mouth, soft lips pressing there. "These hands." Lips find the tips of her fingers, up her arm, shoulder, nipping at the sharp bone of her jaw. "These lips, are mine."

The kiss is rather hard, rough as teeth clank her own. Fingers tug her air, not though to hurt but for a loud gasp to part lips just enough his tongue slides in. His lips are brutal, possessive as he sucks her bottom one purple, until it's almost painful.

He nips at the skin of her neck, biting and sucking until she's cover in his love bites, marked as his own.

"Mine." He snarls one more time before hands pull her shirt over her person, lips crashing together with urgency.