#soldier boy x original female character

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Head Canons:

Love After Death

Yandere Skeleton x Fem Reader

I’m obsessed with Kate Bush’s song ‘Army Dreamers.’ So I decided to write a story about a soldier who died during a war, but he came back to life just to fulfill his promise of coming home to his lover…

There was a Great War many years ago between monsters and humans. A war that took countless innocent lives all due to the human’s greed. A war that took the life of your lover, Zered. Your childhood sweetheart.

Zered was a young sorcerer from the magic tower. A prodigy and pioneer of magic with a heart of gold. He was the man you had planned to spend the rest of your life with. You wanted to run your fingers through those blonde curls until the two of you were balding and wrinkly. To look into those sea foam eyes until you couldn’t. To press soft kisses against his full lips until your lungs burned. You loved that man more than anything in this world… but the war took him from you.

Zered may have died a hero of the empire, but you couldn’t help the bitterness that seeped its fingers into your heart. Your beloved was no nothing more of a war story. A great sorcerer who was able to take down the dragon enemies to give time for reinforcements to arrive. A war hero. And they couldn’t even bring a single remain of him back to you…

You sighed as you sipped on some homemade ale. Your eyes glanced at the sun’s rays that danced across the hay fields in sorrow. This was the cottage the two of you were going to live in for the rest of your days. The one you’d start a family in that was now cold and empty. It didn’t matter that the sun hit it perfectly each time, Zered wasn’t here.

You rock back and forth in the rocking chair. The birds weren’t singing their melodic tunes like they normally did. Which was odd. Why weren’t the birds singing- you almost screamed when you see a dark figure slink through the meadow towards your cabin. What on earth was an undead doing here?!

You quickly sprang up from your chair and fell over since you were a bit tipsy. Crap. Crap. Crap! You needed to head inside before that creature got to you.

You let out a shrill shriek of terror when the skeleton stood in your porch. Its red eyes stared into your very soul as it tilted its head to the side. Oh god… this was it. This was the end. You were going to be ripped apart by this hideous creature-

You went still when the creature threw itself into your arms as it released weeping noises. The skeleton whined and shook as its arms wrapped around your body in a tight hug.

“H-home. I… home.” The skeleton’s voice was a spin chilling rasp. A small tuft of blonde on its head showed that it was once human.

What did it mean by being home- wait. This cousin possibly be?

“Zered?” You gasped when the skeleton pressed its teeth onto your cheek like it wanted for press a kiss against your cheeks. “Zered, what happened?”

“Home… home.” Zered was barely to rasp out legible words. The skeleton cupped your face in its palms. “Love you… I home.”

[bittersweetarts]

How to Disappear - Chapter 4

Soldier Boy (The Boys) x OC

Word count: 3132 words

Summary: Eden Reid can't help her curiosity, and Soldier Boy can't help but take advantage of that curiosity.

WARNINGS: Swearing, minor violence

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - AO3 Page

Chapter 4: Talk

“Good morning princess. Tea or coffee?”

Eden’s body was sore, and her neck and arms ached. The room was cold, like a freezing cold you could feel in your bones, and as Eden’s vision returned and sharpened, she found herself in an unwell-lit, vacant windowless room, and stood in front of her were two figures; an average-looking curly-haired Joe, and the large, dark-haired, bearded man who had attacked her in her home.

Immediately Eden tried to stand, adrenaline now coursing through her veins, but she found herself restrained, with one of her hands handcuffed to a pipe behind her. This would not be a problem, but as she kept roughly pulling, trying to break out of the cuffs or to break the pipe, her wrist started to hurt, and after thrashing about for too long, Eden noticed that her strength was missing. An annoying foreign accent, feigning friendliness, brought Eden’s attention back to the men in front of her.

“I’m guessing neither tea nor coffee.” Eden ignored him, continuing her futile efforts to break free.

“Careful not to hurt yourself, love. You’ve got more than yourself to think about now.”

“What the fuck have you done to me?”

Eden’s tone was filled with venom, angry that her powers were gone. As she spoke, she stared up to the pair, and she noticed how the lankier man was nervous in comparison to the foreign one, and she intended to take advantage of this.

“Nothing permanent, don’t worry. Just a little concoction to keep you at bay, but we aren’t going to hurt you, as long as you don’t give us a reason to.”

“Well, you’re doing a fucking fantastic job, assholes.”

As Eden sarcastically responded she raised her handcuffed hand, which were already tender. Eden now noticed that she wasn’t wearing the office clothes she remembered putting on last, but a black sweatsuit set that she had gotten cheap from Target the previous winter.

Kidnapped, stripped and drugged – what else have they done to me? Eden thought panicked.

Realizing the dire situation she was in, Eden quickly switched up her attitude, and instead of thrashing about, she pulled up her knees and placed her head on them, looking up at the two men, face flushed, letting her eyes water from the very real fear she was feeling now.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean it. Please, just let me go. I don’t know what you want, but you don’t seem like bad men. I don’t have much, but I’ll withdraw everything from my account, you can have it all, I won’t say a single word to anyone. Please, just let me go.”

Eden’s voice cracked as she finished, choking down a sob.

Eden was scared, and if there was one lesson she learned from the Supe conflict resolution course that she took for one semester in college, it’s that she needed to gain the sympathy of her kidnappers, and she needed to capitalize off of her fear to do so. Unfortunately for her, in contrast with the lankier guy, the dark-haired man in charge was not fooled by her theatrics, and clapped as he spoke.

“I can see why he fancied you, love. You are a real damsel, a lady like Vivien Leigh, and the face for it too. Sadly, we’re not in Hollywood.”

“We aren’t going to hurt you Eden, we’re really not the bad guys – ”

Eden was waiting for the smaller man to speak, and immediately turned to him, with her brown hair falling on her face.

“So please then, just let me go.” Eden pleaded directly to her target, who she stared at with rounded eyes.

“Hughie, the pamphlets.”

The dark-haired man ignored Eden’s pleas, and turned spoke to the other man with a definitive tone. Apprehensively ‘Hughie’, took a bag that was on the table next to them – Eden’s bag. The young girl’s stomach turned as she saw him rummage and pull out some familiar papers.

“Stop, who do you think you are? What right do you have to do any of this?” Eden pleaded again.

“I’m Butcher, this here is Hughie. Fabulous, we’re all introduced. Now, how about we tell you what we know about you, and you can fill in the blanks. Your birth name is Eden Michelle Reid, twenty-five years old, blood type B, Capricorn, so you’ll be turning twenty-six soon, happy early birthday.”

The man paused for a moment, as though waiting for a response, but Eden said nothing, and stared with hatred at him.

“Clever girl, got into Godolkin University despite having not very extraordinary super abilities. You were never going to be in The Seven, that’s for sure. The charts say super strength, but it’s not the strongest, at least based on your assessment reports. That’s maybe why you dropped out, and ended up living in some random city in Jersey, working as a receptionist and not making very much. But it’s an honest life, and I can respect you for that.”

Eden looked up at the man, her face frowning. The man turned back to the table, picking up a file with papers, and taking them out to show Eden as he continued speaking. The first paper showed CCTV pictures of a dressed-down Soldier Boy, driving her Mazda, its car plate number clear as day.

“… what we cannot figure out is how Soldier Boy came into the picture. You’re a woman who lives a relatively remote, no social media presence for the past five years. Your manager thinks you’re shy, your co-worker considers you a bitch, the doctors at your clinic praise you, meanwhile it feels like practically no one else knows you. So, love, how did such a lone wolf meet Soldier Boy?”

Feeling the violation of her privacy, with a clenched jaw, Eden answered.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play dumb, love. It’s not a good look on you.”

The man then took the papers from Hughie, and dropped them onto the ground near Eden, one-by-one, pictures of Eden from the past weeks, at her workplace, arms wrapped around Felix, their last kiss, pregnancy advice pamphlets, and her results. Eden felt sick, and the only reason she wasn’t throwing up was because she had physically nothing in her stomach.

“Congratulations by the way, a miraculous conception given the IUD. This ain’t the baby shower you imagined, but desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“And we’re trying to save people.” Hughie blurted out, as though he were searching what to say, and evidently said the wrong thing, based on the look the other man gave him.

“That’s what you’re doing? Saving people by stalking, attacking, kidnapping and drugging a pregnant woman?” Eden said spitefully, chin up in defiance.

“Well, love, we won’t have to do any of that if you listen. We only need one thing from you, and then you can be on your merry way. We don’t need to harm you – in fact,” Butcher declared. “… if you promise not to hurt us, we’ll uncuff you, after you do one little thing for us.”

“You’ll remove this?” Eden suspiciously asked, eyes narrowed.

“Consider it a gesture of good faith. We can’t let you go right now, hope you understand, but if all goes well, you’ll be out of here in no time.” Butcher answered in a lighter tone, while Hughie looked at Eden with guilty, pleading eyes.

Eden weighed her options, but her current physical predicament was uncomfortable, and if she was going to be here for some time, might as well reduce the miserable-ity she has to endure. Defeatedly, she responded.

“What do you want?”

With a smile, Butcher answered, whipping out a phone from the pocket of his jeans. Eden’s phone.

“Nothing crazy. Just a little phone call to one of America’s favorite historic heroes.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Eden flawlessly lied between her teeth, but it fooled no one.

“Eden darling, here we were being honest with one another.”

“We were there when he called you …”

Hughie interrupted, going on his knees and sorting through the papers in front of Eden. If she had wanted to, Eden could have grabbed him by the hair, made him bleed, but she didn’t. Instead, she watched as he sorted through the documents and photographs, before pulling out photographs of her on the phone, on the night that Soldier Boy called her. Eden had felt eyes on her that night, and other others, but she dismissed it for paranoia. She felt like slapping herself for doing so.

“… and intercepted the call, we heard it all. Please don’t make me play the recording.” Hughie finished, with apologetic eyes

Eden felt overwhelmed and had to lean against the wall to stabilize herself. Even though it was the Butcher-man that was not as nice to her, something about Hughie made her feel vulnerable, maybe because unlike the bearded-man, Eden could tell that Hughie was good.

“But it’s not his.” Eden said meekly, as though she were trying to convince not the two other men, but herself.

“Ah, yes, Felix, the new boyfriend. See love, I don’t care if you are carrying his baby, or your little boyfriend’s, or if it’s the spawn of Satan.”

Eden ignored the bearded man, and continued, looking only at Hughie.

“Felix is going to notice I’m gone, we see each other every day, and he’s got family in the force. The clinic will notice I’m missing, I always tell them when I take a day off. Please Hughie, just let me go now and I won’t breathe a word about this to anyone.” The pleading didn’t work though, as Hughie looked to the ground, avoiding Eden’s stare.

“Do you really think we wouldn’t tie loose ends? Your boyfriend already thinks that you’re driving back home – that’s a two day drive, mind you – and we’ve texted him that you need space. You’ve also taken a sabbatical leave from work, resignation email sent last night, and your car – which is shitty by the way – is also parked elsewhere now, for safe-keeping of course. Are we missing anything?”

As Butcher finished, he seemed pleased with himself and the work that evidently his team (a larger one than just the two of them, Eden deduced) made. Eden, on the other hand, felt defeated, and meanly spoke up to him, chin tilted upwards in temerity.

“You’re just like him, you know? You and Soldier Boy.”

“We’re nothing alike, love.”

“You’re selfish and use people to get what you want. I’m surprised you guys aren’t friends.”

A knowing look flashes before Butcher’s eyes whilst Hughie’s eyes widen, and that was enough to confirm Eden’s suspicions that they all, at the very least, knew each other from before.

“Frankly, your opinions don’t matter to me, princess.” The large man paused for a moment, before coming closer to Eden, putting her phone between them.

“I’m calling now, it’ll be on speaker phone, so use your voice.” As the dark-haired man unlocked Eden’s phone and began swiping on it, Butcher quickly spoke again.

“And maybe don’t mention your boyfriend – Benny Boy’s of the jealous kind, and Felix isn’t a Supe. Understand what I’m getting at.”

Eden didn’t get an opportunity to respond, because as Butcher finished, the phone, on speaker, began to ring, and rang only once before it was answered, and a deep voice echoed through.

“Morning doll, what do I owe the pleasure.”

From the other side, Eden could hear TV noise in the background. It was silent for a heartbeat, and the tension in the room was palpable. Butcher cleared his throat, kneeling over even closer and bringing the phone nearer to Eden; the brunette nervously spoke up on impulse.

“Ben.”

“Eden, what’s wrong?”

“Ah, fantastic, you guys are on a first name basis. This hopefully makes things faster for us. Eden love, will you tell him, or should I?” Butcher didn’t give Eden much of an opportunity to decide. “Oh, I can’t keep the secret any longer ¬– Eden is pregnant, and guess who’s the daddy?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Soldier Boy’s tone drastically shifted, cold and calculated now, like how it was the night he woke up in the cabin. Eden forgot that he spoke like, and she felt like she was having an out-of-body experience, observing the moment like an audience watches a stage.

“Well, if you don’t know, then I guess Eden here probably got knocked up by someone else. My mistake, I’m only human after all. We’ll have to dispose of her though, since she’s of no use.” Butcher declared, and Eden sensed no lie in his speech.

“You’re bluffing, you guys don’t hurt innocents, not when it’s unnecessary.” Soldier Boy responded, his voice sounding like he was speaking through clenched teeth. Butcher however found delight in this and answered almost joyfully.

“But Eden here is not innocent from where I’m standing. She’s a Supe for one, and she’s also helped you, a far cry from a regular old civilian. And who knows what she gets up to in her spare time.” Successfully baited, Soldier Boy immediately reacted, threatening in his usual hostile cadence.

“Don’t fucking touch her, don’t even fucking look at her. A single fucking scratch on Eden, and I’ll make sure to painfully kill not only each and every one of you, but also your entire families. Goldilocks’ mom, I’ll skin her, and I’ll do the same to your entire crew. But your wife’s boy, my bad, your ex-wife’s boy, will be the first name on my list.”

Soldier Boy’s tone was venomous, but rather than being frightened, Eden found herself even more detached from herself, stunned completely.

“Listen here, Ben. There is no place on this Earth from Homelander two-point-O. If you do as I say though, I may just let Eden go unscathed. What do you say, granny-fucker?”

The phone was silent, and Eden thought that maybe Soldier Boy decided to hang-up and leave Butcher to do as he threatened. As Eden watched him, she realized that the lanky man, Hughie, was gone, but she hadn’t even noticed him leave.

Was it because Butcher was telling the truth, and he intended to murder her if Soldier Boy didn’t agree to his demands. The thought of dying the death she was imagining made Eden’s eyes uncontrollably water, and tears started streaming continuously as her sinuses became congested. And the dark-haired man before her noticed this immediately.

“Eden love, don’t cry. Tears aren’t good for the baby.” Butcher loudly pronounced, entirely calculated, and from the other line, Soldier Boy’s voice returned, filled with colorful swearing.

“Fuck you, bastard – are you fucking deaf? A fucking imbecile, that’s what you are. Cheer her the fuck up, and if you make her fucking upset again, I’ll shove a gun so far up your asshole that when I pull the trigger, you’ll explode like a fucking pinata.”

Butcher only rolled his eyes, before responding.

“Sure thing Benny, but you see, I don’t give a fuck. Do whatever you want, but if you don’t do as I say, then Eden here will soon be returning to her namesake, I promise you.”

Still detached, Eden thought maybe she vaguely heard Soldier Boy repeatedly swear some more, even more loudly this time. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Calm down Ben, you can have your Eden back, you just need to do one thing for me, just one job.” Butcher spoke over the ex-American hero, until he became quiet.

“All we’ve got to do, is take out congresswoman Neuman.”

“The brown bitch on TV? I’ll get it done on my own. Just fucking let Eden go.”

“It’s not that simple. She’s the head popper.”

“The head-what?”

“The head popper, the moment she sees you, it’s game over, distance doesn’t matter. She’ll burst your old wrinkly brain before you think another thought, just like how you burst your pimples as a teen, and she can do it to anyone.”

“I’d be stupid to help you then, not to mention that you stabbed me in the back.” Soldier Boy’s voice echoed through the room. Eden, still detached from herself, was staring wide-eyed at the ground.

“You think Eden’s baby will ever be safe? The baby is half you, and it’s only a matter of time before people, including Neuman, find out and target it. These people have no fucking moral qualms about killing babies, they’ve killed and ruined countless already, and babies are easier to manage than adults.”

As Butcher responded, he started to kneel over closer to Eden, and stared at her with a burning gaze.

“… and I’ll throw in a final treat. After this is over, I’ll let you kill me.” Soldier Boy laughed before responding, and his laughter bounced off the walls, a perfect manly laugh for the supposedly perfect man

“And the others?”

“Consider it a temporary truce, which ends as soon as the job is done, and our interests are no longer aligned.” The bearded-man responded, and Eden could feel his musky breath on her skin. The room is silent for a few moments, before Soldier Boy’s answer echoes in the room

“Fine. But I get Eden back, immediately.”

“I can arrange for that; we’ll be working together after all.” Butcher responded obligingly with a smirk, and Soldier Boy ignored him.

“Pass the fucking phone to Eden, right now.”

Eden was still sat speechless and hallow, staring wide-eyed at the ground, and as Butcher brought the phone closer to Eden, the only thing Soldier Boy could hear was her shallow breathing. Butcher let out a humorless chuckle before responding.

“The Mis'ess doesn’t seem to want to talk to you. Oh well, you’ll have plenty of time to catch up. Tomorrow, three pm, world's largest frying pan, North Carolina. Alone.”

Not giving Soldier Boy time to respond, Butcher hung up and threw the phone across the room, shattering it into fragmented bits, before stepping closer to Eden and unlocking the cuffs. Eden was vacant as this happened though, and as soon as her hand was free, it dropped to the side.

“Sorry ‘bout the phone, love. We’ll get you a replacement.” Eden didn’t respond, and Butcher let out an exasperated sigh.

“There’s breakfast and a magazine on the table, and you can rest on the sofa. When you need the loo, give a shout. There’s someone outside.”

Eden still stared at the ground, and despite Butcher’s cold-heartedness, he still felt pity for her, and leaned down, hoping she’d turn to face him.

“Chin up, mama. You’ve gotta stay strong and look after yourself, because there’s two of you now.”

Eden still sat motionless, and giving up, Butcher walked out the room, picking the fragments of the broken phone on his way out.

Author's Note: I've got a busy week ahead of me, so please bare with me if the next update takes some time

– Chapter 5 (WIP)

[oh-koenig-my-koenig]

(to the tune of Avril Lavigne's sk8terboi)

He was a human battering ram.

She was a recon sniper.

Can I make it any more obvious?

Headcannons - Fit for a King - König x fem!OC fanfic

Instead of making a y/n fic, I decided to create an original female character because I ususally write all of my stuff in POVs. Due to posting the chapters often right after I've written them some of the context and the characterization might not be explicit in every single piece, some of the information is only gonna get revealed down the road.

(TW: alcoholism, death, violence)

Karina Müller is almost 30 years old, she served in the Norwegian military from right after school until the death of her brother who was KIA on a mission together. She fell off the wagon after that, feeling responsible for his death and effectively being shunned by her family after that. Her pick of poison was alcohol and it got so bad that she more than once was drunk on the job which led to her getting kicked out.

The years after that she spent getting help, trying to get clean and going back to a civilian life, but the military was what she knew, so the civilian jobs didn't stick and she started to work as a mercenary, now a dry alcoholic. Which might be an issue for some contractors, but KorTac doesn't really bat an eye.

She's a compassionate person who loves to laugh, she's seen enough shit not to take any from her teammates and can stand her ground when faced with any challenge thrown her way. She's still working through some stuff, coming to terms with her past, but she has an optimistic spirit and a strong will.

Even though the Colonel seems scary at first, she learns pretty quickly that he is to be respected in training and on the battlefield, but on a personal level he's really not that bad. The 6'10'' killing machine, Austrian war criminal (insert "what murdeeer?!"-meme here) is quite an anxious person when it comes to basic human interaction.

Shouting orders at his team, stomping his enemies into the ground is more comfortable to him than just talking about mundane stuff with other people, he mostly keeps to himself (except for Horangi because that little shit would never leave him alone). And for the first time in a long time, Müller makes him wish that he could just go up to people and strike up a normal conversation like a normal person (don't we all).

König is 38 years old (we don't know his full name) and has the biggest metalhead dad vibes without actually having any children himself (his favourite band is Death, although he listens to a bunch of different ones, it's also their merch shirt Müller steals in "Are you wearing my t-shirt?").

When he started out in the military, he shaved his long metalhead hair off because that was the way to go back then, but he let it grow back when he was older and already Colonel. He has gauged ears and a plethora of tattoos all over his body because the soft pain of body modifications and working out until he almost passes out are his ways of dealing with his anxiety and stress. His body is a testament to that.

He has a huge scar on the right side of his face from when he got beaten to a pulp by his bullies at school, something he never let happen again after that (five on one was really unfair). His nose has been broken two times and sometimes his tattoos get destroyed by battle injuries, but he doesn't really care about that - or his looks in general. He's a soldier and not a model.

So the reason why he's always wearing the selfmade hood is not the scar. He prefers not to show his feelings to others, staying hidden underneath the mask for his own comfort, even if it makes him scarier also in situations where he doesn't want to be.

(CW: some nsfw headcannons ahead, talk about not wanting to have children) They're both switches, though König is leaning more on the Dom-side while Müller is a sub who likes to brat a little too much, just to see her man falter (for example when she calls him a good boy in random scene #1).

Müller is bisexual, something she discovered when serving in an all-women-taskforce of the Norwegian military (we don't really know about König's sexuality though). She decided a long time ago that she doesn't want to have children (she doesn't see herself leaving service again anytime soon and given her past, she doesn't see herself fit to become a mother), so she got her tubes tied. Which also comes in handy when a certain Colonel's favourite pasttime (well, actually second favourite) is leaving creampies inside her (no 'unexpected pregnancy' trope in this household).

König definitely eats pussy for his own pleasure, begging Müller to let him eat her out in "Sit" or losing a little friendly competition for a sexual favour in "But no funny business" (oh and he definitely steals her panties at any chance he gets). She's totally not opposed to servicing him as well, but the size of his dick makes this a whole endeavour (like seen in "Open wide, Prinzessin").

They match each other's energy pretty well, just going at it like rabbits at every chance they get, which sometimes proves to be difficult as they're sneaking around in secret.

Their arrangement is kind of a fuckbuddy/fwb-situation, they fuck hard and rough, without ever really kissing (the mask stays on), but after a while feelings start to get in the way... After all they do belong together <3

Read more at the Fit for a King - Masterlist or keep an eye out for the AO3 link - coming soon.

[thebiggerbear]

Soldier Boy x Reader - Prompt Response - "Sleep. I'll keep you safe."

Summary: You're tired of running and you go to Soldier Boy for protection. He agrees to do it but not without a price.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Female!Reader

A/N: Prompt from @thelonelyempath. The original character I wanted to respond to this prompt with before deciding to make it multi-character. This scenario immediately popped into my head reading the line and I just had to write it. Hope it's okay.

Thank you to my beta Em for her services. You rock, girl!

Warnings: violence/murder; implied assassination attempts; sexual propositioning; Soldier Boy being himself; starts out as a blackmail type dynamic that appears as if a little dubcon at first; language?

Word Count: 2528

SB Taglist: @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl; @brightlilith

"Sleep. I'll keep you safe."

Beau version | Dean version | Jenny version | Tom version | Jason version | Anael version | SDV Alex version

<-->

You never thought in a million years that you would be seeking out one of the most dangerous Supes in the world for protection. Then again, you never would have thought that a multi-billion dollar corporation would be after you, intent on seeing you torn apart and scattered to the four winds. You didn’t exactly blow the whistle on them, but you didn’t exactly tow the company line either—something Stan Edgar was less than thrilled with and now the evil son of a bitch wanted you dead.

It was no secret that Edgar and Soldier Boy had a falling out of sorts after the truth about his being handed to the Russians had come to light. His old team may have made it happen, but it was Edgar pulling the strings all along. Surprisingly, the Supe who had been so focused on revenge hadn’t hunted Edgar down after this revelation, which made you wary about going this route. However, after narrowly escaping the latest death squad sent after you, you decided you had no choice but to take the gamble. There was nowhere you could run that Vought wouldn’t find you and you just hoped this would be more of an ‘enemy of my enemy’ situation rather than a ‘handing you right over to your enemy’ situation.

Once you had managed to track him down in Hong Kong while you were busy running yourself, he had shockingly agreed to a meet, and even more shockingly agreed to help you. Not without certain stipulations, of course.

“Let me in that sweet pussy of yours and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

You should have known, especially from the way he had been eyeing you up ever since he caught sight of you. Screwing your face up in disgust, you flat out refused. “Not happening.”

He shrugged and began to walk away. “Then you must not need my protection that badly.”

You scoffed in disbelief. “You’re seriously turning me down because I won’t fuck you? Whatever happened to the ‘Soldier Boy is America’s son’ bullshit? The OG superhero who fought Nazis and protected people?”

Soldier Boy stopped and slowly turned back towards you. “I’d be putting myself on the line to protect you. For that, I deserve one hell of a payment.” 

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms. “So now you’re blackmailing me into sleeping with you? Unbelievable.” You had heard he was more like America’s Asshole than its Son, but you still couldn’t believe your ears. You had even offered to help him take Vought down with what you knew, so long as he kept you safe. You knew he’d want that kind of information. Why else was he hopping from continent to continent in the last few months, trying to shake Vought just like you were? Instead, his dick was taking top priority. Typical. 

“It’s the least you can do, doll.” He faced you fully again, shield hanging off of his arm as if it weighed nothing. “Like you said, I fought for this country, fought the Nazis, and now you’re asking me to play bodyguard while taking on Vought for you. I deserve something worth all that trouble.”

You ran through all other options in your mind. You still had a contact that could possibly put you in touch with someone that wouldn’t mind tapping into Vought’s offshore accounts that weren’t supposed to exist. You were already on Vought’s kill list; what would a few hundred thousand dollars of theirs matter? “I could pay you,” you offered.

“I’m not interested in money.” His eyes roved over you as he approached. “Besides,” he murmured as he came to a stop in front of you. You tensed as he reached up to tuck a strand of your hair that had gotten loose from under your ball cap behind your ear. ”I haven’t had a looker as pretty as you in a long time. Been locked away.” He gently gripped your chin in between his thumb and index finger, his eyes intent on your mouth before lifting to meet yours. A hint of a smirk started to appear on his handsome face when he most likely heard your heart beat starting to increase.

He released you and even took a step back from you, allowing you physical and metaphorical space. “Your call.”

You bit your lip as thoughts chaotically swirled inside your head. On one hand, you refused to be manipulated or pushed into sex with this asshole. No matter how physically attractive he might be, you weren’t willing to get on your back just so he would help you. But on the other hand, the cold hard truth was that you were tired — tired of running, tired of little-to-no sleep, tired of the paranoia that came with such a flight. Hell, at present, you hadn’t slept in almost two days and you were running on fumes; there wasn’t enough caffeine or energy pills in the world to get you through another day with no rest. Your reaction time was already dragging if your last narrow escape was anything to go by. If you continued this way, you’d be dead before the sun started to warm the sky; you were certain of it.

Soldier Boy stared you down. “What’s it gonna be?”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you glanced behind you at a small noise far off down the street. Thankfully, it was an old woman tossing something out onto the pavement, but you couldn’t deny it put you further on edge. You turned back to the Supe whose eyes stayed trained on you. You took a deep breath to steady your nerves and readied your response. His lips began to quirk upwards into a smile; he knew what your answer was going to be before you even said the words.

…

Vought Tower had been completely demolished. Luckily, it had been mostly evacuated before the destruction occurred. A fight between Soldier Boy and the now-dead Homelander had caused most of the damage, but the C4 that had been carefully lined throughout the infrastructure is what ended up bringing it down. 

Before it went boom, Soldier Boy had approached Stan Edgar, who refused to cower in a corner. The Supe respected that, but it didn’t change what he’d come here to do. He gripped Edgar by the throat and lifted him in the air, choking the older man and ignoring the fingers that desperately clawed at his hand.

“I thought we had an agreement,” Edgar rasped out.

Soldier Boy shrugged. “She made me a better one.” He then snapped the man’s neck and tossed his body aside like a rag doll. 

“Oi! We ought to get out of here,” Butcher warned after seeing Stan Edgar lifeless on the floor. “Frenchie’s about to blow this place to fucking hell.”

He glared over at the Brit and picked up his shield. He still didn’t trust him, not after what he and his merry band of assholes had tried to do the last time they’d teamed up, but he’d made a deal with you and he was intent on keeping his end of it. The only conditions Butcher and Captain Lesbo had given this time around was: no civilian casualties and Ryan was off limits. He did his best with the first and he could give less than a fuck on the other. As far as he was concerned, the kid was Butcher’s problem as long as the kid didn’t come looking for some payback once he got older, which Butcher assured he wouldn’t. That, and there better not be Novichok gas waiting at the end of this mission for him. They’d reluctantly agreed, knowing they had no other way to kill Homelander and take down Vought all in one swoop.

“After you.” Soldier Boy gestured for Butcher to leave first. The man scowled but obliged, keeping a wary eye out as he moved. Smirking, Soldier boy followed. The Supe might have enjoyed the reaction—or even tried to settle the score from Butcher’s previous betrayal—if he didn’t have you to get back to. He needed to let you know that you no longer had Stan Edgar or Vought to worry about. He’d kept up his end of the bargain you’d both made — now, finally, you were free.

…

You woke up to the sound of someone moving through the darkness in your room. You grabbed the gun from beneath your pillow and bolted upright as much as you could, trying to get your eyes to adjust so you could get a good shot.

“Relax, it’s just me,” Soldier Boy assured you. 

Recognizing his voice, you slowly lowered the gun and focused on his location. When your eyes finally adjusted, you realized he was near the foot of the bed, completely nude, his hair damp from a fresh shower. “Ben,” you breathed out in relief. “You scared me.”

Through the beams of moonlight shining into the room from the window, you saw him give you a smile and lay his shield down on the floor next to him. “Didn’t mean to.”

You slipped the safety back on the gun and stashed it into the drawer of your nightstand. You hated having it under your pillow at night; it was super uncomfortable and you only needed to do that when Soldier Boy — Ben, as he’d asked you to call him instead — wasn’t around. “Everything go okay?” 

“Better than okay.” You glanced back to see a smirk adorning that handsome face of his, with an all-too familiar gleam in those green eyes. You watched as he slipped on some sweats and then made his way to the opposite side of the bed. You moved onto your side to face him, smiling as he climbed in next to you and sat up against the headboard, turning to grin down at you. Within seconds, he had his arms wrapped around you, pulling you up against him, and he was kissing you a proper hello. He only pulled back when you needed air and tenderly rubbed his nose along yours, nuzzling you. “How about you, doll? Everything go okay while I was gone?”

You nodded and snuggled into his bare chest, letting out a relieved sigh when you felt his warm hands stroking your back. “Everything’s fine,” you assured him, closing your eyes. You’d never admit it aloud, but you felt so much better when he was around. Not only did you feel protected but you just felt better in general. You’d have to be under the pain of torture to admit to him (or yourself) that you actually missed him when he had to leave.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and let his lips linger there, continuing to rub your back just the way you liked. “Edgar and Vought are gone,” he murmured. “The Caped Cunt, too. You’ve got nothing more to worry about.”

Your eyes snapped open and you lifted yourself up to meet his gaze, your brows furrowed. “What?” You asked in shock.

“You heard me.” He stroked your cheek with his thumb, his grin now a smug smile. “You’re safe, baby.”    

Your eyes widened when the realization hit you. “That’s where you went?”

Your only answer was the lengthening of that smile. 

“Jesus, Ben.” So many thoughts and emotions swirled within you all at once. You were free, truly free. You no longer had to worry about Vought death squads hunting you down, Homelander coming for you, or Stan Edgar sending after you any ragtag Supes he could scrounge up. You were free. Although, Ben hadn’t told you that he was about to go on his most dangerous mission yet. He might be America’s original superhero and he might be tough to kill, but that didn’t mean he was completely invincible. He’d admitted as much to you over the last few months. “What if… What if you didn’t—”

He kissed you, effectively cutting you off. “I did,” he hummed against your lips. “Told you I would.”

You nodded, gently tracing his facial features with your hands before gliding down to his shoulders, dipping down the warm expanse of his back and then slowly returning to his chest. As always, he remained patient whenever you did this ritual of checking him for any wounds or injuries, knowing you wouldn’t find any but needing to assure yourself just the same. Truthfully, this man had come to mean more to you than you’d ever imagined would be possible. Hell, there had been a time when it wouldn’t have been possible at all.

When you were done, you met his gaze head on. “Do I want to know?”

Ben remained silent, but his eyes said it all: no, you didn’t want to know. You and Ben may have planned for the downfall of Vought and the ends of Homelander and Stan Edgar, the very same bastards that had put a target on your back in the first place, but that didn’t mean you wanted to hear the gory details of their deaths. You were just grateful Ben had come back to you alive and unharmed. 

You gave him a thin-lipped smile in understanding. “Thank you,” you whispered. 

Ben studied you for a moment, then pulled you in and kissed you again, his fingers slipping through your hair until he grabbed the back of your neck and urged you to meet him more fully. Just as you were getting into it, he broke away and chuckled. “You’re real eager for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?” You shot him a look and the smirk was suddenly back on his face. Without warning, he picked you up to rearrange you in the bed how he wanted you. “Too bad that you need to get some rest. We’re blowing the fuck out of here tomorrow and you’re gonna need to keep up.”

As if he would leave you behind if you couldn’t. “I thought you said Butcher would leave us alone after this.”

“I don’t trust that dicksucking Brit and I trust his bitch of a boss even less.”

You rolled your eyes, smirking when you felt him settle in behind you, knowing how much he enjoyed spooning you like this. “‘Kay,” you agreed. He had successfully protected you this far; you’d follow his lead on this one, too. You shut your eyes and snuggled into your pillow, content to feel his hands on your back caressing you once more. You were just about asleep when you heard him murmur in your ear, “Sleep. I’ll keep you safe.” You smiled when you heard the words he’d been saying to you every night now for many months and your heart lightened when you felt his hands trail from your back to cup protectively over your rounding stomach, rubbing gently. ‘Safe’ is exactly how you felt right in this moment, and the little girl moving to meet her father’s embrace—like she always did when she sensed he was near—only cemented the knowledge that this was the first night neither you nor she were in danger any longer. It gave you a sense of peace you hadn’t known in a long time.

[ghostgorlsworld]

Moondrunk Monster Pt 1 (Ghost x reader)

Hey so this is my first Call of duty fanfic, so the characters might be wack. The general idea for this one is based off of a Love, Death, Robots episode where werewolves are basically in the military.

You're a retired combat medic that made a mistake, costing you your cushy office job. As punishment, you're sent to an active war zone, where you meet the 141, a squad of werewolves that slowly accept you as their own. (I know, I know I'm bad at summarizing)

Warnings: Extreme violence, smut in the future

Part 1

It was odd to think of how much your life had changed in just a few weeks. At the beginning of the year, you were placed in a cushy job at a base where you were paid large amounts of money to stitch up red-faced recruits and perform physicals on the higher ups–it had been nice, a simple existence where you didn’t have to see blown apart soldiers or hold poor boys down while they screamed and screamed.

But things changed, and for the punishment of your mistake, you were flown here. An active warzone deep in the desert, where there were no boyish recruits eager to please, just grizzled soldiers that look at you like an intruder, a hen in the midst of foxes.

When you were younger, this was easier. You had liked the excitement and adrenaline of danger, of scurrying in the heat of gunfire with your medpack to save lives.

Now you’re older, grumpier, and generally out of shape. They hadn’t given you time to prepare before the Colonel shipped you out here, so here you were in an ill-fitting uniform, setting up your medic bay beside the wolf-soldier’s tent because the Captain insisted that was the only space left in camp.

Their original medic had died after both he and his supplies were blasted to pieces. Captain Graves shortly put in a request for an experienced combat medic, and you could imagine his surprise when he saw you step off the plane, a woman in her early thirties, soft from five years of office work.

The Captain, understandably, hated you. He was saddled with an overweight female medic and a squad of wolves, you were sure the combination put a few extra gray hairs on his head.

Ironically, wolf-soldiers were highly sought after in the military. They were quicker, stronger, and smarter than even the best of the best, able to walk barefoot in the desert without a blister or sniff out an enemy from miles away. You had seen a wolf blown nearly in half get up and walk out of your tent the next day. 

Captain’s group was a particularly intimidating bunch. There was Johnny–or Soap, as he preferred–a mohawked wolf with charming blue eyes and a deadly sense of humor. Gaz was the sweetheart of the bunch, smiling at you in a friendly sort of manner whenever you were forced to sit at the end of their lunch table.

Price was their leader, a wide man with a deep voice and commanding presence. Honestly, he reminded you of your father.

Then there was Ghost, the wolf in the skull mask. He was the biggest, all broad shoulders and muscles encased in a healthy layer of fat–and, from what you had learned from your patients, the most dangerous.  

On your first day, you had to dig a piece of shrapnel the size of your hand out of his shoulder. Ghost refused when you offered wolf-friendly pain medication, seeming to enjoy your expression as you watched the skin around his gaping wound knit itself back together.

The other soldiers disliked them, simultaneously jealous and fearful of their abilities . The 141 were excluded from the rest, much like you were, so you spent meals at  the other side of their table, minding your own business with a novel.

They didn’t seem to mind, after all, you spent half your time digging bullets out of them when the other medics refused to touch them. They weren’t used to humans being kind to them. 

You quickly adjusted to life in the desert, sleeping in the back of the med bay in a rickety cot while your patients tossed and turned through the night. You got used to the early mornings and the shitty food, the screaming, the blood, settling back into a life that you had thought you left behind.

This morning was no different. You wake to the noise of shouting, the dark sky telling you it was far from morning. 

“Where the fuck is the medic?” Price’s voice dominated over the others. You quickly stumble out of bed, shoving your legs through your pants and hastily buckling them as you hurried outside, wiping the sleep from your eyes. 

The scene before you was gruesome. Gaz lay prone on the ground, throat slashed and guts strewn out of his belly like noodles.

If he were a man, he would be dead.

But even a wolf can die, and a body can’t heal around its  own intestines.

You were awake in an instant, shouting orders to the men around you as you dropped to your knees. His pulse was slowing as more blood pooled into the dirt, his body unable to replace what he was losing so quickly. 

The thing about werewolves is that they are partially human, which allows them to take human blood in small doses if the need calls for it. But the issue was the blood itself. 

Every week, you get a shipment of fresh, cold O-negative blood, giving you ample supply for every occasion. But a sandstorm had interrupted the usual shipment yesterday, and while you knew that the shipment was supposed to arrive at noon later today, that didn’t help you now.

Gaz gagged, blood gurgling from his throat.

“Shit, shit,” Soap said, his mohawk slicked with his friend’s blood. “Is he gonna make it, doc?” Soldiers huddled around you, supplies in their hands. You ripped strips of gauze and placed them over his throat, slowing the bleeding before you started on his gutted stomach. 

“We’re out of transfusion blood,” you announced. “Is any soldier here O-negative?”

Silence. No human soldier would volunteer to give his own blood to a wolf. 

Except you. You nodded, swiping an alcohol swab into the crease of your elbow before connecting the two of you with an IV, the bright red of your blood flowing into his veins at the gasps of both human and wolf around you.

It would stir up the healing process so you worked quickly, Amon, another medic, joining you as you worked on closing his stomach.

It felt like hours before his pulse grew strong again, but you knew it could only be ten, twenty minutes. You slid the IV out of your arm, blinking as black spots appeared in your vision.

You might have given a bit too much. 

Gaz looked at you, his dark eyes replaced by an eerie yellow stare. A chill stole up your spine. 

 “Good morning,” you said through numb lips, taking a peek under the gauze on his throat. It was now only a pale scar, just a memory of a wound. “Look at that, soldier, you’re practically brand new.”

Gaz smiled weakly, his head falling back into the dirt. Soap whooped, gripping your shoulder in a vicious hug. “Good job, lass, I thought the pup was gone for sure.”

You stumbled at the weight of him, suddenly feeling exhausted. “Amon, will you get him set up in the infirmary? I think I need a moment.”

Price waved Soap off, gripping your elbow in a guiding hold. “Ease off the poor girl, Johnny, she’s dead on her feet.”

Soap merely grinned apologetically, ruffling your bedhead with a rough palm before helping the others move Gaz into the infirmary. 

Ghost stood behind you, a reaper in sand-colored tactical pants. Price pushed you gently into Ghost’s direction, “Get her something to eat, Lieutenant.” “I’m alright,” you tried to insist, a spike of nerves in your belly about being with Ghost. He was the least human of them all.

“That was an order, doc,” Ghost said, his voice a dry rumble as his hand fell on your shoulder. “Go on.”

You allowed yourself to be herded to 141’s tent, having half a mind to curl up in one of their bunks and sleep until dawn, free from the smell of blood and antiseptic. 

Their tent was neat and smelled, well, like an animal den–not unpleasant, just overwhelmingly…male. 

Ghost nudged you towards the sink without a word. 

It took you a moment to see that you were still wearing gloves, caked in Gaz’s blood. You stripped them off, then began soaping up your hands and forearms, scrubbing the red from your skin.

When you were clean, you hovered over a cot, about to take a seat for your shaky legs.

Ghost stiffened from where he was crouched, his hands in a tub of supplies. “Not that one.” You glanced down, seeing the Scottish flag on the wall, the photos of a couple that looked exactly like Johnny. “Oh, sorry.” 

He jerked his head to another cot, this one bare of any decoration except for a cold cup of tea. You assumed it was Price’s, perhaps he doesn’t mind the stench of a human on his sheets.

You took a seat, your hands trembling in your lap. Ghost tossed an army bar your way. “Eat,” he said, in a tone that didn’t invite an argument. 

“Ew,” you said, eyeing the packaging. He gave you a dark-eyed look, the kind that probably made wolves bare their bellies and whine. “Oh fine,” you huffed, tearing into it. It was awful, the kind of chalky that let you know they stuffed enough nutrition and calories in the bland, tasteless bar to keep a soldier going for days. You chewed and watched Ghost shift around in the makeshift kitchen, heating a pot of water over a spindly propane stove.

Was he making-

“Drink this,” Ghost said, passing over a cup of tea. He kept one for himself, pulling up a chair to sit across from you. He was still filthy from whatever mission the Captain had set them on, blood and dirt smeared over his gear and mask.

“Thank you,” you said, sniffing it doubtfully. You were American, so you didn’t have much taste for tea unless it was iced and sweet. 

But when someone like Ghost makes you a cup of tea, you drink the fucking tea.

He nodded, turning away from you so he could lift his mask over his mouth to drink his tea. You looked away quickly, focusing your attention on the Scotland flag on Soap’s corner.

The two of you sit in silence for a long time, long enough that your cup is drained and you’re blinking heavily at the darkness still outside.

“Go on,” Ghost said, slipping the cup out of your hand.

You hide a yawn, pushing yourself up from the bed.“It’s alright, LT, I’ve got my own bed somewhere.” “You have half a dozen men in your tent, love.” Ghost backed you up against the bed, his heavy hand on your shoulder. “Sleep. We’ll keep an eye on Kyle.”

It made sense. You kicked off your boots and curled up on the cot, hiding your throbbing head in a pillow that smelled like gunpowder and musk. 

Ghost ducked out of the tent as you laid down, your eyes falling on a skull mask folded up neatly beside the cot.

It was then that you realized this was his bed. 

[thewalkingwillowtree]

Safe Haven

Series Part Listing Found Here

Neteyam x Original Na'vi Female Character

Summery: Seeking refuge, Xilä and her father venture to the lands of the Omatikaya clan, in the hopes that the Toruk Makto would be generous in allowing them to stay. This is her story about not only finding her strength, but finding love. 

Warning: This story contains smut, violence & abuse (please don't read if these topics will affect you)

Some characters have been aged up. Neteyam in particular is 25.

Xilä is my own creation.

WAIT! Please note this part contains time skips.

~

Part 21 - Epilogue

‘Xilä’s in labor.’

‘My wife is about to have my kid.’

‘Holy shit, my kid. Mine…’

‘I’m going to be a father.’

‘Fuck, I don’t know if I can do this.’

To say Neteyam was freaking out was putting it mildly and- Oh fuck. His damn father-in-law was walking towards him. The last thing he wanted was for the man to see him like this. 

The first time Neteyam had a full conversation with Jxo, he was ten years old. 

To him, Jxo had always been a man of very few words. He never smiled, hated small talk and was extremely intimidating. But he was also incredibly respected throughout the entire clan, and well, Salveen liked him a lot, and so did bossy D’avi, so those were good enough reasons for the ten year old to think him alright. 

Being the chief’s son brought its fair share of challenges. There was a time when a group of boys tried to bully him over his “golden boy” status. Neteyam had fought back- and lost. 

He was ten, and a mess after. And instead of returning home, he ran to Sal’s but she’d already gone to the kitchens that evening. 

Jxo, seeing his cuts and bruises beckoned him in and silently cleaned his injuries- a split lip, swollen cheek, scraped knees and bloody knuckles. 

And when the man finally asked, “What happened?” 

Neteyam broke down and sobbed. He was hysterical and mad at himself for not being strong, mad that he was even crying. He was a man for Eywa sake! A soldier! A warrior! Just like his dad. 

But that day he was grateful that Jxo didn’t treat him like a silly kid- like everyone else did. Jxo calmed him. He was his usual gruff self and spoke to him straight. Treated him like an equal and imparted words of advice Neteyam needed to hear.  

Flash forward to fifteen years later, on the night that he would become a father for the first time, Neteyam was hysterical just like that very day. 

Xilä’s water had only broken half an hour ago and Neteyam was spiralling- or freaking out as his visiting brother had been teasing. Irritated and short tempered, he snapped at anyone who got too close to his mate who had been slowly pacing up and down the interior of the Tsahìk’s tent while her birthing room was being prepared. 

And just like he did fifteen years ago, Jxo and his no nonsense- never one to beat around the bush, pulled him outside and called him an idiot- a skxawng, telling him he needed to to get his shit together and stop snarling and hissing at everyone like a “fucking palulukan”. 

When he’d finished telling him off, he blew out a breath then continued- far gentler or as gentle the man could be, parting fatherly words of wisdom and advice with a comforting hand clasped on his shoulder. 

Neteyam humbled himself and took it all in, and by the end he felt lighter, calmer and far more level headed. 

With a final, “Don’t fuck it up. She needs you. So get in there, skxawng,” the soon to be father chuckled with a brisk nod, thanked the elder and headed towards his wife. 

~

“Swear I’ve gone back twenty-five years,” Jake murmured in disbelief at his grandson in his arms. “He looks just like you did, son.” 

Neytiri hastily wiped a tear that escaped her as she too stared transfixed. 

“He’s got Xi’s eyes,” Neteyam announced proudly as he lingered closely. 

“And her ears,” his mother noted with another sniffle. “He’s beautiful.” Neytiri gently stroked Sprout’s little fist. “Jake, you've had him long enough. It is my turn again,” she bossed her husband. 

Passed over to his grandmother, their baby made a soft sound. He whined and twisted slightly before settling back into sleep.

Jxo pressed another kiss to the top of his daughter’s head as she rested against his shoulder. “I’m so proud of you, darling,” her father told her for the third time since their parents were let in. “You did good.” 

Sal nodded in agreement, her own eyes swimming in happy tears as she tucked a few of Xi’s braids behind her ear and continued to fuss over her- pouring her another cup of tea to help with the pain. 

Xilä was exhausted but yet a soft smile still graced her face as she watched their parents meet their son for the first time. Jxo was the first to hold him after he’d greeted her with quiet words of praise. And just like Mo’at did, when she eased her son into her father’s arms, she didn’t miss the way his eyes glistened. 

The entire moment was heartwarming, yet slightly comical to a degree. She grinned as she watched her husband hover protectively, scrutinizing every move any of them made as they held their child. 

Even when Jake huffed amused, stating, “You know I had four of you right? I think I know how to hold a baby,” even then Neteyam didn’t care, he still fretted and lectured and adjusted their holds. 

“Oh Eywa, you’re going to be a father just like my Jxo, aren’t you?” Sal chuckled and gently adjusted her grandson with the unnecessary aid of her son-in-law who had told her for the third time to, “Watch his head.” 

“Huh?” Neteyam asked, baffled, the same time Jxo released a noise of offence. 

“Yes, yes. He never liked anyone holding our D’avi. So protective he was.” She hummed wistfully at the memory, eyes never leaving the little one who had taken hold of her finger. “You are so sweet, yes you are. Hi. Hi,” she whispered softly as he blinked up at her, waking from his doze. 

“This does not surprise me,” Neytiri chimed in. “Neteyam was never very good at sharing the things he loves. Xilä, and now our grandson will be included as well I’m afra- Oh Sal, look at his eyes.” 

“Mom!” 

But she ignored him since her and Sal’s attention laid solely on baby Sprout who was yawning, tiny body stretching in Sal’s hold.

“We’d be lucky if we ever get to see the kid,” Jake said, joining in on the teasing. “Knowing our son, he’d keep them locked away.”

Neytiri frowned at this. “My sweet Xi, you won’t let him hide the two of you away all the time, yes? I would like to see my grandson whenever I so pl-”

“Mom. Of course you’d get to see him.” Then after a long pause Neteyam continued with, “But there will be boundaries, and Xilä and I would expect that you all would… respect them.” 

Jake covered his grin of amusement behind his fist and Jxo hid his in Xi’s hair- both men’s eyes automatically cutting to their wives who both had identical looks of indignation. In their heads Neteyam might as well just said they weren’t allowed to see their grandson… ever.

The women looked about ready to protest, but in the end they gave their agreement without so much as a peep. Neytiri however did reach out and pull her son- who was twice her size- into a hug with a, “Eywa, my baby is all grown up now.” 

“Can I have him, mother?” Xi was itching to have her son back in her arms. It hadn’t been long but she missed him already. 

Neteyam was the one to pass him over. His palm found Xi’s nape, thumb stroking her cheek as he stole a kiss from her, uncaring of their audience. 

Sprout stretched with another yawn, fingers opening then curling back up before he nosed at her chest instinctively, cooing a tiny fuss as his legs kicked out. 

Xi tossed a thin cloth over shoulder, covering herself and the babe. She bared one breast and guided him to her nipple. Her baby latched eagerly, little mouth suckling with gusto. 

She knew it was probably a bit silly to want privacy since it was a natural thing to nurse one’s baby in the open. But she wasn’t there quite yet. 

Eyes closed, she listened to the quiet conversation around her and leaned heavily on her husband who curled around her. 

“What have you decided to name him?” Jxo asked his son-in-law. “Have you chosen yet?

Xilä felt smiling lips against her forehead. 

“Zyden. Our son’s name is Zyden.” 

~

Neteyam made his way towards the lively activity at the southern border of the clan- eyes roaming quickly to take in every inch of the scene. 

The mission fleet that had just returned were being aided- travel packs and goods were unloaded while ikran wranglers steadied the restless mountain beasts. 

After being months apart, riders were greeted with open arms by their waiting families and judging by the ease of their smiling faces, Neteyam breathed a small sigh of relief that there seemed to be no pressing worries. 

Tasam who’d led said mission was already talking to the chief. Jake nodded at whatever it was he’d said then clapped him on the shoulder before making his way towards another warrior. 

Neteyam had missed Tasam, he realized. Seeing him after so long filled him with nostalgia, and the memory of them meeting for the first time on their very first day of Iknimaya training played in his mind. 

“‘Teyam! You look good, brother,” Tasam called out. He met him halfway, crooked smile wide at the sight of his comrade and friend. “Fatherhood suits you.”

Neteyam couldn’t hide his pride as they clasped arms in greeting. “Tasam, welcome home. My son… Zyden,” he introduced, titling so that Tasam had a better view of the three month old strapped to his chest. 

A soft swear word escaped Tasam when he saw the baby. He reached out and ran a knuckle along the back of Sprout’s hand in amazement. “He favors your looks.” 

Zyden’s wide silver eyes tracked Tasam’s hand. He cooed loudly then promptly shoved his little fist against his mouth, making sucking sounds as he drooled all over his knuckles.

“I can’t believe I missed so much. How’s Xi? The birth went well?”

“It did, thank Eywa and she’s great. Tired but great.”

Tasam grinned at his friend’s expression. Neteyam was a hardass and as serious as they came. He always seemed to wear a mask of impassiveness that was near impossible to discern most days. Today however, the mask was nowhere to be seen. 

“It’s good to see you this happy.”

“Eywa has bountifully blessed me, how could I not be?” He jerked his head, gesturing for them to walk onwards, a large protective palm resting beneath Zyden. “Tell me, how was the trip? I’m sorry we missed you before you left. I didn’t know you’d be gone so long.”

“I share the same sentiments. As for the trip, it was… interesting. The Sarentu clan… they’re in a bad way. The couple months we stayed we managed to make some good changes, but they still need all the help they can get. I’m hoping another fleet can ride out before the end of the week.”

“It’s that bad?” 

“Their clan is but a fraction of ours and they’re unable to help themselves properly. They have maybe five- six, capable hunters?” he said exasperated. “The clan is exposed. Not enough warriors to provide protection. Not enough hunters to provide food. It is a wonder they have survived this long.”

Neteyam considered his words. “It is things like this that make me glad my father reached out and started this entire initiative. Their chief said as much back at Awa’atlu. He came mainly in the hope that would help.”

With the nearest cluster of communities in sight, Tasam slowed his stroll causing Neteyam to do the same. 

During their walk the father had kept periodically checking in on his son who seemed settled and content against him. Looking down, he saw that Zyden’s eyelids were slowly drooping, little mouth quivering in his sleep as though he were feeding. 

“Do you think Kiri would like bellsprigs? As a gift I mean… It's kind of rare here but bountiful near this clearing I found back at Sarentu.”

The sudden topic change had Neteyam blinking in confusion. 

“Um, sure? I think she’d like them. Wait, aren't those extremely dangerous to harvest?”

“They are- were,” Tasan held up his palm showing off a deep gash that was still healing, “but it’s Kiri. I’d do anything for her.” 

“Huh… You really like her, don’t you?” He got no response and halted, noting his friend was no longer walking beside him. “What is it?” 

“I-” Tasam looked uncomfortable now and was no longer meeting his gaze. “I-” He hesitated again and rubbed at his brow, frowning deeply, almost as if he’d forgotten what he was supposed to say. 

“Tas-”

“I wish for your permission to court Kiri,” he rushed out. 

A long uncomfortable silence proceeded before Neteyam found his voice again. “You- uh, well why are you asking me? Shouldn’t you be asking my parents?”

“I’m planning on it. I asked the chief if I could meet with him and your mother after I give my full report tomorrow,” he scratched his neck, “I suppose he knows what I’m going to ask. Your father gave me this weird, blank look then sort of reluctantly agreed… But I- you see…”

It was jarring and almost amusing to Neteyam to see his friend so scatterbrained and fidgety. Was he… nervous? Shit, he was.

“What I’m trying and evidently failing to say here, is- I care for your sister. She has my whole heart and… and although you are my commanding officer and my future chief and I have the highest of respect for you… You’re also my closest friend, and as Kiri’s brother, I’d very much like to have your permission in addition to your parents’.”

Eywa. Neteyam really wished his mate was here. He was not good with these kinds of situations. Not when it came to his sisters. No wonder Jxo always looked like he was about ready to punch his face most times. 

Kiri and Tasam…? His sister and his- well who was Neteyam kidding, Tasam was as good as his best friend. Why did this all seem like a surprise to him though? He somehow knew it would be coming… didn’t he?

He thought back to every interaction between the two. The man was smitten with Kiri, and Kiri… well, Kiri was near unrecognizable around Tasam. 

He made her happy. 

That was all that mattered, no?

“You have my permission.” 

Tasam’s jaw fell a little, then he straightened up when Neteyam’s face turned mildly murderous. 

“But you should know, my sister is precious. I don’t care if you hurt her unintentionally or not… you know what I’m capable of.” 

It should’ve been difficult to take the mighty Neteyam’s threats to heart when he had an adorable infant strapped to his chest. But Tasam still felt the sting of his words.

“Are you nervous to ask my parents?” Neteyam asked when they’d made it to the heart of Home Camp. 

“Am I nervous to ask the clan’s Olo'eyktan and Olo'eykte if I could court their eldest daughter? That’s a joke right?” Tasam huffed. “Course I’m nervous. But I’ve been wanting this for Kiri and I for so long now. That and I already told Kiri I was going to ask her when you all got back.”

Neteyam laughed, accidentally waking his son who woke with a startled cry. He was quick to comfort the baby with soothing strokes and pats on the back. He also gave him his index finger to hold which of course Zyden instantly put in his mouth. 

“You told Kiri you were going to ask her before you asked for my parents permission?” 

Tasam back slapped his arm, careful not to jostle the baby. “If I remember correctly, you did about the same thing with your Xilä.” 

“Shit, that’s right.” 

“And worse… It was all the clan could talk about for months, some still to this very day. No meeting of the parents, no announcements, no ceremonies, no-”

“Alright alright, you made your poi-” 

“You’re back!” a distant voice called excitedly. 

Kiri’s smile was almost giddy as she made her way closer and from the look of Tasam’s he was probably- nope, definitely worse. 

Ugh. Neteyam was suddenly nauseous. While the duo reunited- lovestruck gazes locked on each other, he focused on his son who was still biting away on his finger, drool leaking down his chin and along Neteyam’s palm. 

“Your aunty Kiri and her new boyfriend are going to make your poor daddy sick, aren't they,” he whisper-sang to his son. “Yes they are.” 

Zyden smiled up at this father as if he understood, gurgling while flashing his gums.  

“Oh here, let me help you with that.” Tasam swooped in with ease and hefted the heavy basket Kiri had been straining with. 

“Thank you.” Her cheeks were flushed and she bit her lip to tame her smile while she and the warrior continued to fail at being non obvious lovesick fools. 

Zyden’s coo broke their spell. 

“‘Teyam!” Kiri exclaimed as if shocked to see him standing there.

“Kiri.”

“And Zyden!” His sister snagged the baby right out of his carrier and held him close, squishing his cheek against hers as she rocked him.

Zyden looked slightly alarmed, eyes wide at the sudden movement but he did not cry.

Neteyam simply sighed at the pair all the while and of course, the mighty Tasam was just about melting at the sight. 

~

“What are you up to, my love?”

The baby turned and gave his mother a cheeky grin that showed off all four of his baby teeth and it just about melted her heart. 

But Xi wasn’t fooled by his cuteness, she saw the glint of mischief shining through his expression. 

The determined thing waited until she was busy folding another large sheet before he went off again, crawling towards his most recent fasciation.

“Zyden.” Xilä’s tone was soft but firm. “Uh-uh. No playing over there.”

Zyden released an unhappy whine at the reprimand. And despite his mother’s warning, he still reached and held onto the bottom of the wooden shelf to pull himself up on wobbly legs. 

Even though the shelf that housed her husband’s weapons was sturdy and Xi knew the baby couldn’t reach anything, she still corrected her son- letting him know it was dangerous. 

His little leg tried to lift, dangling with nowhere to perch. Not getting anywhere, he stomped his foot in frustration, though it didn’t stop him from trying again. 

“Zyden Sully!” Xi clicked her tongue and shook her head. “Uh-uh, mama said no. Come down from there.” 

At that, his tiny face scrunched up in anger, bottom lip pouting as tears rapidly pooled along his lash line. He pointed at the shelf and babbled his displeasure.

“I know. I know. But you’re too young for those. When you’re older I’m sure daddy will love teaching you to use them.”

Zyden drew a long, silent breath then promptly wailed louder with his head thrown back. One would swear she’d just ruined his entire life.   

“Aw, come here, my love.” 

She could sense a full blown tantrum brewing and since Sal had told her earlier Zyden missed his afternoon nap, Xi expected her son would turn tired and cranky right around this time. 

Laundry forgotten and scattered around her, she gave him her full attention, beckoning him over. 

“Zyden, my heart, come here.”

Listening, he carefully fell to his butt and crawled towards her. “Mma-ma,” he cried, tiny tail flicking back and forth as he moved.

How was he so perfect? 

Xi gathered him into her arms the second he was within reach and smothered him with kisses- forehead, cheeks, nose, angry twitching ears.

“See? This is why we shouldn’t miss nap time, my love. So cranky,” she cooed in a singsong tone.

He rubbed his eyes and yawned tiredly- proving her point, then impatiently pawed at the cloth that covered her chest.

“Hang on, hang on.”

Settling him against her breast, he nursed more for comfort than hunger and while he fed, Xi stared down at him in adoration. She hummed a song and wiped away his lingering tears, thumb sliding across baby soft skin.

She marvelled over his wild curls while brushing them off his forehead and laughed quietly when he offered her his little foot for her to kiss, tiny toes wiggling cutely. 

Nipple still in mouth, he smiled and reached up to pat her cheek, fingers gentle and stroking much like she’d done to him. 

The action caused a tiny pang of sadness to hit her. He was growing up so fast- too fast.

Every one of his milestones filled her with pride- his first smile, first laugh, first word. She may have shed a tear or two over his first tooth… and maybe over the second, third and fourth ones too. And although she was eager for all the other firsts- especially his first steps, each new milestone always reminded her that he wouldn’t remain a baby forever, so she made sure to relish every moment. 

The clanking sounds of their tent’s chimes alerted her that someone was here, and then the beaming face of her husband entering their home came into view. 

“I’m home!” 

Meal forgotten, Zyden grappled and used her top to help pull himself seated, legs and arms kicking and flailing excitedly at the sight of his daddy, gums and four little teeth proudly on display. 

“Look who’s here, Sprout. Who’s that?”

He glanced back at her and pointed at Neteyam who was hurriedly putting away his things.

Zyden prattled a garble of baby talk, tail slashing so fast, Xi thought it’d flick right off. 

Unable to contain himself any longer and with a loud gleeful shriek, their son crawled right out of her lap and charged full speed across the tapestry-covered ground, towards his father- all traces of his mini tantrum gone. 

Neteyam laughed while scooping him up and tossed him in the air before settling him high on his chest. “Why are you naked, huh little man?” He smacked noisy kisses to Zyden’s chubby cheeks making the baby squeal happily. 

“Your son figured out how to remove his tewng this evening.” Xi adjusted her top and picked up a towel to resume her folding. “Every time I put it back on, he took it off and the game seemed never ending, so I let him win for today.” 

“Oh yeah?” Neteyam grinned proudly, as if she’d told him his son had accomplished some massive achievement. “You’re so clever, Zyden. Daddy’s so proud of you.”

Xilä paused and simply stared at her two favourite people in the universe. Eywa, did she love them with her entire being. 

“Mmba-Da-da.” Zyden babbled, tiny palms smacking Neteyam’s cheek and nose and mouth until he spotted and made a grab for the lone string of beads in his daddy’s hair. 

“That’s right, Sprout, that’s me! I’m daddy.” 

Only recently and after a lot of coaxing, Zyden had started saying dada. Xilä didn’t think she’d ever seen her husband cry that much when he’d said it, but then again she herself was a sobbing sap when his first word was mama. 

Neteyam made his way over and crouched down to greet his wife. She kissed him back and they both broke out into laughter when Sprout leaned over to do the same- drooly lips open against her cheek in his version of a kiss. 

As soon as he was set down, Zyden crawled off towards a forgotten toy. He tossed it away then charged after it, finding fun in doing it over and again. 

“I spoke to Lo’ak and Tsireya this morning,” Neteyam said conversationally as he started helping her fold the laundry. 

“‘Teyam,” she interrupted, using her “mom voice” as her husband so liked to call it. Xi had gotten distracted by the article he’d chosen to fold. 

“What?” he asked in faux innocence. Neteyam snatched up another one after folding it to his best and shot her a naughty wink.

Her mate always went for her undercloths first, forever eager to handle the intimate, flimsy things. She shook her head and snickered while he continued on, telling her about Awa’atlu updates. 

The pair chatted about their day- him informing of the new shipment of goods they were preparing to send to the Sarentu and Ta'unui clans, and her prattling on about her early morning lesson with Mo’at and then filling him in on their son’s fascination with his shelf of weapons. 

At some point Zyden had grown bored of his toy and fussily demanded his daddy’s attention. Neteyam dramatically tossed him amidst a pile of clean furs, keeping him entertained as they fought playfully.  

Later on, it was a battle to get Zyden to put his tewng back on, much less keep it on, but soon after, the little family of three made their way to the communal dinner, with their baby babbling the entire way there.

As if he belonged to her, Neytiri plucked their son out of his father’s arms the second they entered the clearing. Zyden was passed around from grandparent to grandparent before he finally settled contentedly next to his aunty Tuk who fussed over him as if she were a grown up. 

It was honestly quite cute seeing her break off tiny pieces of soft root vegetables and feed them to him. She offered him sips of her water which just splashed right down his chest and scolded him lightly when he ate too fast.  

Neytiri, who was nearer, kept careful watch and intercepted fast grabby hands whenever Zyden went after something he wasn’t supposed to. Neteyam chuckled from his spot when his son made a dive for poor Tasam’s teylu. 

The baby was most unhappy when his grandmother lifted him away with a chiding. He even gave Tuk what looked like a glare of betrayal after she giggled saying, “Zyyyyden. You don’t even have enough teeth to eat that, silly.” 

Midway through their meal, D’av and her family showed up. L’eya- toddler on a mission, plopped herself into Xi’s lap to excitedly show her a bug she’d found on the way. “It- it prewdy huh, aunty Xi? An it-it glows and eberyting too. See?”

Xi oohed and awed over the bug in her niece’s palm and Neteyam did the same- pausing his conversation with Jake when she crawled into his lap as well, before eventually running off to do the same with her grandparents. 

“You’re late. You hate being late,” Xi teased her sister who settled beside her. She frowned when she really looked at her sister.  “Are you unwell? You’re pale. Here let me see your-”

D’avi brushed her fussing off. “Stop that. If mother catches you she’s going to come over here and I don’t need that right now. You’re forgetting Yalnïk and I have two toddlers to wrangle, can you blame me for being la- why are you looking at me like that?” 

The older woman dropped all pretense when she saw her sister’s shocked expression turn into a knowing grin. 

Sighing in defeat, D’avi glanced around their family huddle to make sure they weren’t being overheard by their parents. 

Their mother and father thankfully, both had their hands full. Jxo was eating while balancing Zyden on his knee- the baby focused as he chewed away on a massive piece of fruit and Sal had both L’eo and L’eya who she was fawning over and feeding out of her own meal. 

“You can’t tell our parents yet,” D’avi barely whispered. 

“D’av.” Xi’s tail couldn’t keep its cool, it sprung high in excitement. “So you’re actually-”

“Yep… pregnant. I’m pretty sure it happened the night when Bwiin went and snitched on us.” She scoffed. “Our party was not that loud.” 

Xilä remembered that night. She breastfed so she didn’t indulge in the sweetened wines that were being passed around… D’avi however had just stopped with her little ones, so she went all out, and was pretty much the life of the party. They’d gotten so rowdy, Bwiin, their mother’s nosy and grouchy friend had gone and reported them for disturbing the peace. 

Xi bit her lip. “The night you got drunk at Leati’s bacholet party? And Yalnïk had to come get you?” She butchered that word for sure- every time too.

It was a surprise that Leati even wanted to take part in the odd human custom, but Xilä realized that Ze’lu brought out a side to the woman that outshined her cold and somewhat mean disposition. 

“Yeah. I jumped my mate the moment he tossed my ass in bed... Ugh, and I’ve been so, so cautious, Xi and the one time, the one time I forget to have the damn tea. Bam. Pregnant.” She sighed. “Oh Eywa, truly I pray it’s not twins again.” 

“Are you happy about this though? I can’t tell.” 

D’avi’s eyes turned watery. “Of course I’m happy. To be honest I don’t think it’s completely registered yet, but yes. I’m so happy, Xi. And Yalnïk, ugh. The man is so damn excited. He’s already hovering and-”

“D’av! Do you want ovumshrooms?” 

“Yes, please,” she answered her mate who was currently putting out their food. “He’s the best isn’t he? I mean look at his face, and his body. I’m the luckiest woman in this entire clan, aren’t I?” 

Xi smiled, she felt the exact same way about her own husband. 

She turned towards her son when she heard his cry of frustration. Tuk had just taken something out of his hand when he tried shoving it in his mouth. Zyden seemed to be telling her off in his baby speech, and kept reaching for it, whines turning fussier despite Tuk calmly telling him it wasn’t food. 

“Zyden,” Neteyam called from beside her. 

Their baby pointed at Tuk, as if begging his daddy to make her give it back to him. 

Xilä knew he wouldn’t last much longer. He was tired and cranky and fighting sleep ever since he missed his afternoon nap. She watched him struggle to decide whether to cry or not. Luckily, Zyden was distracted by L’eo’s giggle, so he crawled off towards cousins. 

L’eya was all smiles for the baby. She poked his nose in greeting, mouth full as she chewed her food. L’eo offered him some of the buoyfish he’d been feasting on but Sal was quick to give her youngest grandchild a piece of a mashed bean pod instead. 

D’avi’s low groan pulled Xi’s attention away from their children. Her nose was wrinkled at the meat in her husband’s leaf plate. 

“Sorry, sorry.” Yalnik moved his plate around so it wasn’t too close to her and struck up a conversation with Tasam and Kiri who were on his other side. 

“How are you feeling this time around?” Xi asked. She handed her sister a piece of cider root to chew on.

“My morning sickness feels more like all day sickness and I’ve got this lingering headache that refuses to go away. I’ve drank every tea possible to help ebb my symptoms and they all refuse to work. Can I come by the healer tents tomorrow? So you can check me over, make sure everything’s okay? I’ve been putting off doing that.”

“Of course, D’av.” 

“Eywa. Mother will be mighty pleased. Just look at her now.”

Sal was in her element. The grandmother had all three little ones surrounding her. It was impossible to miss the happiness radiating off of her.  

At home, Zyden was usually clingy with Xilä and she relished in the feeling of him being attached to her, whether it was to be carried or simply wanting her attention at all times. But she wouldn’t be lying when she said she also loved seeing Sprout socialize and bond with their family- especially with his grandparents. It was something she certainly never had growing up. 

Another fifteen minutes passed before it finally happened. 

“Xiiii!” Tuk groaned dramatically as she hefted and carried a wiggly crying Zyden from under his arms. The baby was already reaching out and calling for her. “Sprout wants you. Oof! He’s getting so heavy,” she half laughed, half huffed when handing him over. 

“Hello, my love, are you being a naughty Na'vi for your aunty Tuk?” 

Zyden didn’t waste any time, he stuck his little fist right down her top and gave a frustrated grizzle. 

“Thanks for taking care of him for us, Tuk.”

The little girl beamed at Xi’s praise, and giggled when Neteyam attacked her with his own brotherly affection before she dashed off. 

Xilä quickly tugged down the front of her top and Zyden eagerly found and latched onto her nipple to nurse. She smiled when his small sticky hand rested on her breast as his eyes instantly began to droop. 

“I’m surprised he lasted this long,” Neteyam joked. He leaned over to kiss and nuzzle Zyden’s chubby cheek as he suckled, soft feeding sounds and breathy baby gulps making him and Xi smile at each other. 

L’eo appeared not too long after, food grease shining all over his face and chest. “I all done wid my food,” he told his mother proudly.

D’avi chuckled. “Good job, baby.” She pulled him closer and wiped his face and hands despite his squirming. 

When he made his escape, he approached his aunty. “I play with Zyhen, pwease, addy Xi.”

“Aw, I’m sorry, sweetie, but he’s falling asleep.” Xi caressed his cheek in apology. “You’ll get to see him tomorrow, okay?” 

Poor L’eo looked so disappointed. His pout deepened when he turned to find his sister amongst their family, only to find she was already dozing in her grandfather’s lap. 

“C’mere bud,” Yalnïk reached out and scooped him up and D’avi turned to give them both her attention. 

Xi covered herself back up when she felt her nipple slip from Zyden’s lips.

“Oh he’s out,” Neteyam laughed. He gathered their milk drunk baby in his arms and wiped away the trail of liquid that ran down his chubby cheek and into his little neck folds.

“He’s growing up too fast,” Xi sighed, leaning against her husband to peer at their son. Their baby was sprawled without a care in the world, sticky coated skin, pudgy little tummy on display, tail curled up contentedly. “I feel like I blinked and now look at him. Gosh I’m going to miss this age.”

Neteyam nodded in agreement. He kissed her forehead then whispered, “I know the feeling all too well... But you know there’s a solution for that, right?” 

“What do you mean?” she murmured, perching her chin on his bicep. 

“You could always let me put another baby in you. Then another when they grow out of that age, and another when-”

Xilä pressed her fingers to his lips and snickered at his response. “May I remind you we are surrounded by our family. Don’t start with that if you’re not able to do anything about it right now,” she teased back. 

A dangerous glint shined in his eyes, nostrils flaring at her words. 

“I’m not teasing, Xilä. I'm completely serious.” 

“Oh I know. If it were up to you you’d keep me round and pregnant for an eternity, right?” She tucked a braid behind his ear, not so accidentally brushing the tip of his pointed ear with her thumb and smiled when he gave a subtle shudder. 

“You’re playing with fire, baby,” he warned but she simply gave him an innocent look and pretended she didn’t know what he was talking about. 

“But on a serious note,” she whispered, “is it terrible that I just want to enjoy it being the three of us for now? I’m not saying no indefinitely, after Zyden I know for sure I want more, but he’s not even a year old yet, he hasn’t even taken his first steps. I want to give him as much attention and love as I can until we decide for sure to grow our family.” 

“Nothing’s wrong with that, sweetheart. I like that plan.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm.” He sensed a lingering sadness from her, so to lighten the mood, he teased, “And anyway I’ll get to focus on getting my practice in while fucking you senseless.”

“Neteyam!” Her face bloomed in mortification and she glanced around to make sure he wasn’t overheard. 

There’s that smile he so loved to see. 

~

True to her word, L’eo got to see Zyden the next day. 

The boys played loudly with the many block pieces their grandfather had crafted for them. L’eya seemed to find them too rowdy for her, so she sat in her own little world with her toys until Tuk had come by and joined in with her. 

Xilä loved the sound of her son’s laugh and she loved the sounds of her home filled with children playing. 

Zyden squealed and clapped excitedly when L’eo knocked down their pile of wooden blocks and then the two went back to building it all over again- it was mostly L’eo, but Zyden sure helped by handing him each piece. 

They were so stinking cute. 

A little later on when he seemed to have grown bored, her son sought her out. He crawled after her and patted her calf, tiny palms opening and closing- asking for up. 

The second she lifted him, he cuddled her, little face snuggled into her neck and Xi soaked it all up. It was her favourite feeling in the universe. 

Neteyam looked up from his whittling and was quick to join the two. He tried burying his face on the other side of her neck, but Zyden wasn’t having it. 

Their son pushed his daddy’s face away along with a mess of protesting gibberish that had sounds like mama and dada scattered in between. 

“I want cuddles too, you can’t have her to yourself,” Neteyam quarrelled with the biggest grin on his face. 

“Ma-ma!” Zyden argued back fiercely. He leaned his head against hers- their cheeks squished together while he kept batting away his father’s affections for her.  

“Ah,” Neteyam dodged another fist. “I’ll have you know she was mine first.”

“Ma-ma!” Zyden’s both arms locked around her neck. He gave her a wet sloppy kiss on the cheek and grinned wide, and those four little teeth just about killed her. 

“Alright, alright. I’m jealous now. Come here, little man, I’ve got a bone to pick with you.” Neteyam stole him away and dramatically rolled them around on the floor. The baby shrieked and burst into breathy giggles as they play-fought. 

Feeling like he was missing out on the fun, L’eo ran and jumped in with a roar. “I rescue you Zyhen!” To which Neteyam pulled him in too. 

Xilä watched on and called out “oh no’s!” from the sidelines. Through her laughs she couldn’t help feel a bit emotional. Neteyam was an incredible mate, but he was an even better father. 

When he cried out asking for her to come save him, she eagerly and happily joined in until they were all a pile of giggling limbs. 

~

Pillow muffling her screams, Xilä arched as her mate licked her into another mind shattering orgasm. 

It was the middle of the night and she’d already woken on the cusp of one, finding her legs thrown over his broad shoulders with his head bobbing eagerly between her thighs, licking and sucking like a starved man… and he hadn’t moved since. 

“‘Teyam.” Shuddering as she came down from another high, she feebly tried to push his head away, hips failing to escape his clutches. She was too sensitive and he didn’t seem like he wanted to stop any time soon. 

Yet he only tightened his grips and spread her legs wider, holding her firm with a bossy growl. “One more.”

One more. One more. That’s what he’d said the last two times. 

Her voice hitched when he nipped then sucked her clit hard, silencing her protests. He stretched her with his fingers, adding one after the other until she was stuffed with all three- digits curling and fucking her just right. 

White noise clouded her ears and her eyes rolled into her head. Body seizing up as it quickly prepared to shatter again, she struggled to keep her moans at bay. Her poor knuckles were painfully white from their tight grips- one fisted in her mate’s hair, holding on for dear life while the other squeezed the pillow she was biting into. 

She could just about cry when Neteyam slowed his pace. The wicked man wanted to draw out her pleasure and no matter how much she tried to ride his fingers faster, she failed. 

He pushed her hand away when she dared to reach for her throbbing clit. Eywa. She was near delusional at this point. 

“Mine,” he’d snapped when she tried to touch again, and then as if teaching her a lesson, he simply reduced his actions even further, fingers curling deep and dragging torturously slow while he lazily lavished her clit with his tongue. 

Turned into a mewling weepy mess, she was completely at his mercy. It seemed almost never ending.

Embarrassingly loud slick sounds emitted with every motion of his fingers making her arousal drench everything- his hand, face, her thighs, their sheets- shit, she’d just changed these sheets. 

Xilä’s orgasm blindsided her, making her cry out and damn near suffocate her husband with her thighs as her entire body seized up. 

She was almost sure she’d momentarily blacked out too, because when she finally came to her senses, her deep, heavy panting had calmed and the strong ripples of pleasure and orgasmic aftershocks had ebbed away, leaving her with lingering tingles. 

Neteyam, as if he had all the time in the world, was sucking his fingers dry. It shouldn’t have been a sexy sight, but damn if it was. 

Damn him.  

Then the asshole dived back down to lick her clean. 

WACK.

“Baby!” His jaw dropped and he was staring at her in surprise. 

Xi had actually smacked him with her pillow when he had the audacity to run his tongue across her oversensitive clit. He got the message this time. He snickered and just moved along to lick away the slick that coated her inner thighs instead. 

Through their bond, tsaheylu still intact from when they went to sleep, she felt him. Like a rolling storm, he was all consuming. He was so pent up and clouded her with his intensity, she wouldn’t be surprised if he combusted just then and there. It felt good to be the cause of it, honestly. 

“You didn’t come?” Shit. She’d tried to move but her legs felt like flopping fish. 

He shook his head and got up on his knees. She was greeted by an angry leaking dick, throbbing and needy in front her face. 

Xilä licked her lips, and between her thighs pulsed at the sight of him. Sitting up, she watched him wrap a hand around himself and give a firm stroke, thumb swiping across his tip before dragging back down again. 

Although she was still a bit light headed, just like he’d done earlier, she batted his hand away to grip him herself. 

At this he let out a pleased little groan and threaded his fingers through her hair. His hips gave a sudden snap and his dick twitched when she pressed a teasing kiss to the head of it- barely even making contact. 

Xilä smirked when she felt his fingers tighten in her hair, pulling slightly at her roots. “Xilä,” he growled, sending a rippling shiver down her spine. 

“What?” she asked cunningly, “No teasing?”

Through their bond she felt his building frustration, his impatience, his need. Tail circling her wrist, he got her moving. 

So bossy.

She stroked his length and found her pace, setting a rhythm that had her mate quickly blowing out puffs of air as he seemed to be trying to keep his composure. 

Cute, she thought. With her free hand she stroked his tail- its tip still wrapped around her wrist, both hands moving in tandem. 

“Xi-”

Reading his mind, her eyes found his own, locked and dangerous and just what he needed to get closer to his peak. 

He was practically fucking her fist by now, and damn near exploded when her other hand left his tail to squeeze the base of his dick. 

Xi licked him again, tongue running up the underside of him, along a vein, then circling its head. That was it, he couldn’t control himself any longer, he came with a blinding force- a strangled endearment, falling from his lips. 

Hot seed spluttered from him, painting his stomach, Xi’s hand and her pouty lips, a drop even landed on her nose. 

A feeling of victory flooded Xilä. She loved seeing her mate come undone, loved seeing him lose control. A side of him she was the only one to ever see. 

She stroked him all the way through, till his shudders ceased and his body grew lax and so pliant she was able to pull him down, his massive frame covering her entirely. 

Their lips met in the middle for a searing, all consuming kiss. Xi could taste herself on his lips, she was sure it was the same for him. 

Breaking apart for a much needed breath of air, Neteyam nipped her bottom lip. “Sorry I woke you up.” 

Xilä laughed. “No you’re not.” 

He grinned too. “No I'm not.” 

After they basked in the afterglow for another couple minutes, they cleaned themselves up, using water and washcloths to bathe each other, mouths unable to stop stealing kisses and hands unable to stop caressing. 

Returning from checking on their son, he helped her strip their hammock and fasten a clean pelt before they both climbed in- him pulling her on top of his chest immediately. 

“Sprout was still asleep?” she asked, breaking him from his thoughts. 

“Mhmm, out like a light.” He kissed her forehead and she snuggled closer. 

~

Somewhere between sleep and wake, Xi heard a hushed whisper. 

“Mama?”

She felt a familiar weight sat on top of her and the gentle pat, pat of a little palm on her cheek.

“Mama. Mama! Mommy wake up, I have to tell you something really portent.” 

“Mmm, I’m up, I’m up.” Xilä blinked awake to the view of her son’s sweet face. Exhaustion momentarily forgotten, she pulled him into her arms and across her chest, peppering kisses all over his cheeks. “Good morning, my love.” 

Zyden struggled a bit under his mother’s smothering, trying to wiggle out. “Mama stop,” he giggled. “Guess what?” His voice was dramatically hushed despite it only being the two of them in the room. 

“What?” she asked just as quietly to match his energy.

“Daddy say I can go fishing today!” Zyden shared, tail flicking in uncontrollable excitement behind him. As if reminding himself, he made a shhhh sound and pressed a finger to his lips before continuing softer. “And- and I get to use my new bow too. You know the one mama? The big boy one granpather Jxo make me? An- an L’eo and L’eya go too but no Js’avi, cause he-he too small still and then daddy show me how to catch the fish!” 

Xilä gasped dramatically as if she didn’t already know all of this. “Oh my Eywa! That’s all so exciting, my love!”

“Yah! I- I catch you a really big fish, mama. Den you cook it.”

“I like that idea. What kind of fish should I make?” She smiled tiredly and smoothed her hand over his hair. He looked so much like his daddy. 

“Zyden!” Neteyam walked into their room, hands on his hips with a disappointed expression. “I thought I told you we’d tell your mama later. She just fell asleep, son.”

Zyden jumped at being caught, his sweet excited face turning into one of guilt. Brow puckered into a tiny frown, he pointed at his mother, then said as if it made all the sense in the world, “But mama awake now daddy. So I tell her now. Later is too far.”  

Both parents couldn’t hold their amusement. 

This kid. 

“Alright little man, come on.” Neteyam grabbed him up and hung him upside down. Tickling his tummy, he made their son break out in a fit of uncontrollable giggles. 

“Da-ha-ddyy!” 

When he set him on his feet, his father said seriously, “Go on and have your breakfast. All fishermen need to have a good meal before they set off for the day.”

“Ohhhkaaay! Bye mama!” 

Neteyam blew out a breath and made his way over to Xi. “Sorry. I swear I only turned my back away for a second and then he disappeared.” 

“It’s fine,” she assured, stretching her neck and puckering her lips, begging for a kiss as if he hadn’t kissed her only three hours ago when she’d gotten home. 

Her husband obliged and when he pulled back he said, “We missed you last night.” 

“Me too. I'll try not to make it a habit, but I was really needed for the night shift. I’m sorry it was so last minute too.” 

“Stop,” he ordered, nipping her lip in rebuke. 

“But it was date night… We made a promise to never miss a date night. I feel terrible. I promise I’ll make it up to you and-” She was about to apologize again so he silenced her with another kiss. 

“Xilä. It’s your job, baby. You were needed. It's okay. And anyway, Sprout and I had an awesome guys night.” 

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” His voice drew to a deep whisper, “Although if you keep insisting on making it up to me, I’d really really like to fuck you later. It’s been ages.” 

Xi’s snicker was interrupted by a yawn. “You’re being dramatic. Oh that does remind me though, I need to get more Qla’ira root. I’m running out.” 

Neteyam got quiet. He perched his head on her chest, golden eyes almost pleading. “Or you could… not?” 

“Behave.” She batted him playfully and ran her fingers through his braids. 

“I’m being serious. You know Zyden’s been asking for a sibling lately.” 

“I know, but we agreed when he turned five, to start trying again, remember?”

“Technically, it’d be the same thing… If we get a head start from now, he’ll probably be five by the time-” 

“Zyden will be four in a couple months,” she laughed, cupping his face.

They heard a crash, followed by a, “Daaaddy! I had a naccident!” 

“Duty calls.” Neteyam lifted and hovered over her. “Get some sleep, alright? We’ll see you later. And we’re definitely not done talking about this.” 

“Daaadeeeee!” 

“Coming!”

Xi frowned, when he left. She didn’t know why she was even fighting this decision. She herself was ready for another child- and not just because of her mate’s pleas or their son’s little saddened face when he asked them how come he, “didn’t have a baby like L’eo and L’eya had Js’avi.”

Eywa had told her as much that she was ready as well. Her bond with the Great Mother had been growing stronger and stronger everyday. 

So what was stopping her?

~

Later that night, during a family dinner, the kids excitedly ranted about everything that happened that day- all talking over each other and fighting over the attention of the adults. 

It was a full family night. Neteyam and Xi’s home was not only filled with Jake and his family or Jxo and Sal. There was D’av, Yalnik and their three little ones. Also Yalnik’s twin and his mate along with their brood of five kids- who had also gone fishing. 

Xilä saluted the men for having to take on so many of them. She wished she got to see them at it, since apparently they’d roped along Tasam and Ze’lu to get in some practice. 

Speaking of, Tasam and Kiri had even joined their rowdy bunch tonight- newly mated after their courtship. Their story was incredibly sweet. They’d gone the traditional route and followed through the steps of the Omatikaya’s customs.  

Their love was blinding and Xi was so happy for them. Although it had been years now, she still noticed the one or two times poor Spider would shoot them concealed glances. She was rooting for her friend to find his happiness too.   

“An den I shot my bow like,” Sprout made a dramatic reenactment, “an VOOSH! My arrow went so far into the water, and- and-”

“And the same time I shot mine too!” L’eo chimed in. “And it hit a fish!”

“Oh my! You caught one, L’eo?” Sal asked, intrigued by their story. 

“No,” the boy said sadly. “The fish swam away. L’eya got one though.”

The little girl blushed when the room broke out into cheers for her. 

Xilä loved nights like these. Their family dinners were always a boisterous affair. She felt entirely whole- as if she belonged. A feeling she fought to find for years. 

She watched her son seated in the cradle of his dad’s legs. They were both talking animatedly with Mo’at whose aged face was nothing but smiles. 

Something within Xi suddenly clicked. That uncertain emotion that had been plaguing her now had an answer and a flare of guilt followed the revelation. 

Stephan had taught her an expression once, “Waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

It made sense now why she herself kept putting off having another baby, because that’s what she’d been doing, wasn’t she?

Waiting for the other shoe to drop?

Waiting for things to go wrong, waiting to be told she no longer belonged. Waiting to see if she and her son would be casted out.

A weight lifted off her shoulders now that she knew what was holding her back. Stupid thoughts that would bear no fruits.

She had her whole life ahead of her. One filled with the joy and love of her and her mate, and of their children. Xi stared at her son, her son. Of course she’d wanted more of him, she Neteyam truly made ridiculously cute babies. 

Before she shook off her thoughts and returned to the present, she gave herself a mini metal pep talk- the reassurance that always seemed to help the times her mind clouded in darkness. 

She was here. 

She was safe. 

She was loved.

And she had found, her Safe Haven. 

 ~

Once again, my deepest thanks goes out to all of you who have taken this journey with me, to all of you who have read, and liked and commented.

Special thanks to all who gave suggestions and ideas. I love interacting and hearing your thoughts!

I poured my heart and soul into this story and the unbelievable feedback I've gotten- there's no greater gift.

Although there is one more part I'd like to put out- "a slice of life" to specify, I am officially marking this story as Complete!

Here's to more stories in the future ahead. 💛

Tags:@jakesullyfatjuicypeen@granddearduck@riatesullironalite@strawberri-blonde@earthling55 @innercreationflower @duckworthbean @gyuventure @btsiguess-kpop@blkmystery@neteswife@luvteyams@isnt-itstrange@erenjaegerwifee@faatxma@ivysully@bakugouswaif@pinkpantheris @mntx666@ironcaptainnataliabarnes

[littlemisspascal]

Rockford & Roan Pt. 6

Pairing: Tim Rockford x Female Reader/OFC ‘Roan’

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: “You’re probably thinking, this is crazy. Being whisked away through a portal for a clandestine meeting with my match’s brother–what the hell is going on? Am I right?”

Rating: T. Heed the warnings y'all!

Warnings: Language, Reader has a dog, Reader has military background, Superpower AU, They Were Roommates AU, self-esteem issues, soulmates-ish, original characters, worldbuilding, sort-of threat of murder, Reader has a made-up place of birth, stress, anxiety, named Thief character

- Reader has no first name and no physical traits described in detail except for being shorter than Rockford. Reader is mentioned to have hair

Author Note: Thank you always for the kind support💗

Special thanks to @beecastle for beta reading and encouraging me 💜💜💜

Series Masterlist

The Brother

It takes a moment for you to shake off your shock, mutely staring at the man–Rockford’s brother, his flesh and blood relative–before stooping to reclaim Banjo's leash, giving it a firm tug. Your dog obediently, albeit begrudgingly, returns back to your side where he sits with a paw on your shoe. A hugely possessive action for such a small creature. 

The man in the floral robe (and what’s up with that? His entire outfit looks perfectly tailored, every last crisp detail painstakingly crafted to suit his broad frame) inclines his head, looking cordial if not for the slight calculating sharpness in his gaze. “You’re probably thinking, this is crazy. Being whisked away through a portal for a clandestine meeting with my match’s brother–what the hell is going on? Am I right?”

“Took the words right out of my mouth,” you say flatly, and he actually chuckles at that.

“When one is avoiding the attention of Timotheus Rockford, discreetness is the name of the game. Hence the one place he refuses to set foot in again.”

Well, that certainly doesn’t sound ominous at all. A memory flickers in the back of your mind of a knife stabbed into the apartment’s wall. Rockford’s first and to date only mention of his brother.

“Which is a shame,” the man continues with a put upon sigh, “because all his things are exactly where he left them in his room.”

“What?”

“Mamá insisted,” he says plainly, as if those two words are enough to erase your confusion. He scoffs then, nose scrunching. “No matter what I say, the old bat thinks her darling boy will find his way back home one of these days.”

Home? Rockford’s never struck you as the filthy rich type before—the man owns exactly one (1) ratty brown trench coat that he’ll probably take with him to his grave, for crying out loud. You’d assumed he’d had a modest upbringing similar to yours, but standing here in a lavishly decorated room larger than half of your childhood home…well. It’s crystal clear you were wrong about him.

Brown eyes narrow in consideration. “You seem upset.”

Your spine tenses up, not liking the shift in subject of the conversation. “Yeah well, you seem–”

Your empathy spasms painfully when you reach for it. A pins and needles sensation that has your fingers flexing instinctively. You can barely sense the faintest of glimmers from the woman’s mind behind you, empathy feeling strained as if she’s hundreds of miles away. Horror begins creeping into your bones as you turn your attention to the man who’s begun to smirk at you. 

“I was wondering when your soldier instincts would realize something was amiss,” he says, looking at you the same way you imagine a scientist looks at a microscope slide, putting you on edge.

Gritting your teeth, you sharpen what little of your mind-gift you can concentrate on into a blade. Even if you can’t pierce through all his defenses, at the very least he’ll have a migraine from hell.

But lashing out reveals no target. Just a blank, gaping void where his aura should be.

Your lips part in a silent gasp, all coherent thoughts fleeing your head. If you weren’t looking directly at him, you wouldn’t be able to tell he was here at all. How…how is that possible? 

Every living being has emotions, even those with the coldest of hearts can’t evade your mind-gift’s detection. And this man—this man wearing your match’s face—he’s obviously experiencing feelings. One look at the crinkled lines along the corners of his eyes, the flash of his white teeth in a smug grin, is proof enough. So why the fuck is he invisible to you?

“Who are you?” you ask, raking your gaze over him. 

“I answer to many names.”

“He’s a dramatic bitch,” the nameless woman chimes in with a voice like smoke and chocolate. Banjo growls a low, grumpy note, still distrustful of her. 

“Your commentary, as always, is much appreciated, Saturn, thank you.” The man’s tone is sharp, and his glare sharper. If looks could kill, Saturn would be a bloody stain on the floor right now. 

Instead, she shrugs off the retort like a duck flicking water off its feathers. “No problem, boss.” 

Your lips curl into an unimpressed scowl. “Who are you?” Then, more insistently, “What are you?”

“I’ll let you call me Cassius, Miss Roan. We are practically family, after all,” he says with a wryness that has your temper flaring hotly. “As for what I am, well. I like to think of myself as something of a master thief. It’s got a nice ring to it. Much better than a suppressor, in my opinion.”

A ripple of shock spasms across your face, heart lurching heavily in your chest.

Suppression is widely considered one of the rarest of gifts. Rare like one born every ten years kind of rare. You’ve only heard news stories about suppressors, how they can steal the abilities of others with just one look or touch. Sometimes for mere minutes. Sometimes for several years. They’re reported as heroes saving the day as often as they are criminals who need to be isolated from the rest of society.

Regardless of his relationship to Rockford, Cassius’ status as your ally or enemy remains to be determined. His personality leaves much to be desired, but really it all boils down to how long he intends to lock away your mind-gift.

Your empathy has always been a vital part of you. The way you can feel it fading away, a dying candle flame devoid of oxygen, makes your skin crawl. Reminds you of childhood summers at the beach, futilely grasping at sand slipping through the gaps of your fingers. You didn’t realize the full extent of how much you rely on your mind-gift until right this moment, forced to guess what Cassius’ is feeling just from his body language alone. Is this really how the rest of the population lives? You shudder at the thought. 

“Relax,” Cassius tells you, though it doesn’t have much of an effect. Not until he adds, “I won’t keep your mind-gift long. And if I really meant you harm I would’ve had Saturn portal you off a building.”

“Messy, but effective,” Saturn agrees.

Your eyes grow impossibly wider. (Did she just confess to murdering people? Surely she’s joking. Yeah. You’re gonna tell yourself she’s joking.)

“I really did just bring you here for a chat,” the thief says, ignoring his…assistant? Business partner? You haven’t quite pinned down what they are to each other, relying only on Saturn referring to him as ‘boss’ as a clue.

“Why?” you ask, voice still a little shaky before you make yourself take a deep, steadying breath. “Clearly you and your brother aren’t on the best of terms with each other. I matched with him, yes, but other than that I’m a nobody. Why waste time talking to me?”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Sergeant Roan. You’re far more interesting than any old nobody.” Cassius sticks his hands into the deep pockets of his robe, expression annoyingly inscrutable. “Born in Rabicano. Enlisted at eighteen. Discharged earlier this year following a lapse of control. Though you did manage to save your camp and fellow soldiers from falling into enemy hands during a midnight raid. You deserve kudos for that.”

Your lips purse, fighting to remain calm. Those details are supposed to be confidential, known only to you, the military, and Dr. Odair. 

“You’ve done your research. Good job.” You flash a sardonic smile. “Are you trying to scare me off? Is that what this is?”

“Not at all. On the contrary, I quite like you staying at 445D Albatross Lane. Gives you close eyes on Timotheus—his comings and goings, his health, his cases.” He pauses, wetting his bottom lip. “My sources tell me you’ve been searching for a new source of employment. I’d be happy to pay you a large sum of money.”

“In exchange for what?” you ask cautiously.

“Information,” Cassius answers, eyes gleaming. “Just…tell me what my brother’s up to. Despite our differences, I do care about him. Somewhat.”

“No. I’ll never be a spy.” You shake your head. Things may be strained between you and Rockford at the moment, but you’d never betray his trust. Not for all the money in the world. 

The thief blinks, something that looks an awful lot like surprise there and gone in the span of a heartbeat. You bite back a smug grin. It’s pretty nice being the one catching him off guard for a change.

“I haven’t mentioned a figure.”

“Don’t care.”

“You…don’t care?” Cassius echoes faintly, and it genuinely appears as if you’ve short-circuited his mind. He recovers quickly, squinting with a knowing air. “You’re protective of him.”

“He’s my match,” you say firmly. “And he’s my friend.”

There’s an awkward stretch of silence, nobody saying anything. Even Saturn doesn’t have a quip prepared. You find yourself wondering about Rockford, if he’s noticed you’re missing. You hope so. You hope even more to mend what’s been fractured. A long talk is in order once things wrap up here.

And then Cassius sighs—a single puff of air, yet it has the impact of a bullet hitting your gut.

For the first time since meeting him, his expression isn’t one of blankness or arrogance or humor at your own expense. No, it’s something else aging him several years, deepening the wrinkles of his brow, shoulders sagging from their perfect posture.

You’re scared to realize it might be disappointment.

“His friend? Nonsense. That tells me you don’t really know who he is.”

The moment Cassius says them, you want to take those words and stuff them down his throat until he chokes. Because that’s your biggest fear– plucked from the darkest corners of your being and exposed like an open wound to be mocked and prodded–that everything you’ve been learning about Rockford is wrong. No, maybe not everything, but the intimate details. All the itty bitty pieces gathered and studied and fitted together in hopes of understanding what makes Rockford Rockford. 

“It’s a work in progress,” you admit. “We’ve both got trust issues and baggage we don’t talk about. And maybe he’s got a bit of a head start with his gift when it comes to knowing me, but I can be patient. Good things come to those who wait, so they say. And he’s worth waiting for.”

Cassius hums, thoughtful, then asks you, “And if it’s not a good thing in the end. What then?”

You frown. “I don’t understand.”

“I think there’s another popular phrase you’d do well to remember.” He steps closer, indifferent to Banjo scampering onto four legs with a disgruntled woof and the way you bristle when he clasps your shoulder in a firm hold, thumb pressing down ever so slightly. An unspoken warning to shut up and listen. Leaning in even nearer, his mouth drifts mere inches above your cheek, breath warm, and then he’s whispering in your ear, “Ignorance is bliss. Be very careful, Miss Roan, which truths you seek to learn about my brother.”

You say nothing, staring at the wall over his shoulder, heart pounding in your throat.

When he steps back, hand dropping to his side once more, the thief is smiling again, dimpled and cheery, expression cleared of stoicism. “I’m glad to have finally met you. It was an enlightening experience. No need to worry about finding a cab at this hour, Saturn will drop you back safely at your apartment doorstep.”

The Card

Your second trip through one of Saturn’s portals is as chaotic and disorienting as the first time, but you land on your feet at least instead of rolling across the sidewalk. Even better, your arrival back home comes with the return of your mind-gift, rising like the first sunrise after months of pitch blackness, burning away the numbness plaguing your brain.  

The portal closes up behind you with a quiet whooshing sound, leaving you and Banjo alone on Albatross Lane, not another soul in sight. Banjo gives himself a full-bodied shake from nose to tail tip, yawning once he’s finished. Seems like you’re not the only one exhausted by the last few hours.

This night feels like one of the longest ones of your life, full of unexpected twists and traumatic trips down memory lane, culminating with perhaps the strangest encounter you’ve ever had with another human being. You’re still not sure what to make of Cassius. What kind of man offers to pay someone to provide information on his own brother? Is their relationship seriously so hopelessly broken that they can’t even fake a civil conversation on the phone like many siblings do? 

Only two people can answer those questions. And one of them’s a short elevator ride away. You can sense Rockford’s emotions from down here, almost like a distant thunderstorm on the horizon, rumbling with irritation.

You stick your hands into your jacket pockets, mentally bracing yourself for what’s next to come, but the discovery of something brushing against your fingertips makes you pause. Eyebrows scrunching, you pull out a green patterned playing card and flip it over to reveal the three of hearts. You’re baffled by its existence for all of five seconds before remembering Cassius’ abrupt closeness at the end of your conversation. A cover to hide his parting gift unnoticed. 

That settles it then. Mysteriousness must run in the Rockford family genes.

“C’mon boy,” you say to Banjo, stuffing the card away. The yellow door beckons you closer, friendly amongst the nightly shades of grays and blacks. It’s a shame what awaits you inside isn’t nearly as soothing. “One more conversation to go before we sleep.”

[mar3ggiata]

professional help, c2. preview

simon riley x original character.

abstract: this is Jude, this is a little bit of information about me since you care so much, I don't even know you… anyway yes, I really like being mysterious, what you gonna do about it, punch me in the face? I'm not even real, grow the fuck up. see ya.

trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault, mentions of rape, trauma, sexual themes, swearing, use of alcohol and drugs, eating disorders, depression.

song to listen to when reading this: *The Chain*, Fleetwood Mac.

Sometimes, she just fucking hated her life. She supposed it was normal like that, it happened to everyone to absolutely fucking despise their lives, no? She wakes at the same hour everyday, does her makeup. Not too much, just enough so she looked like she had slept the night before. She conceals her identity under eyeliner and blush. She looks like a doll. She likes her makeup, she's quite good at it. She plays with her hairstyles, sometimes a bun, sometimes braids, sometimes loose with a headband, depending on the mood. She walks her dog and cleans his poop.

She always comes in dressed in dark colours, dark red, dark blue or black. She has 10 male patients and 8 female soldiers. Some of them are combat medics, some snipers. Demolition experts. She works till lunch time, eats alone, sometimes skips lunch just to make her body feel something and indulge in disordered eating, then goes outside to smoke and comes back in. After the afternoon sessions, she sometimes has groups together for some group therapy.

She didn't work for the entirety of 2022. She had an accident with one of the patients, classified information. She survived, but man was it hard to live after that day... Spent time with her dog, visited a friend in San Francisco, taught ballet at the local dance school. Price and Laswell felt so guilty they continued to pay her even if she wasn't working. Why she decided to come back she really didn't know. She thinks the truth is she likes helping people, makes her feel good. She liked crazy stories and she had a reputation at the base, she was starting to be respected. She craved that. And it really started to bore her, the routine. Until Arash.

She was used to raising her voice and presenting herself as stoic and cold. She knew perfectly how to be violence. She noticed a familiar face once she opened the door of the briefing room. A familiar face mask. The skull guy, she had seen him before. Was he the guy… She could't get distracted. Her little mission went smoothly. She always knew Price liked her and feared her at the same time, and when it came to his little soldier boys, she really didn't care what they thought about her. The guy from the day of her accident even spoke to her. Poor thing. She was really amused no one told him about the reason why she didn't want to go home alone. He did really good that night, she remembers him well. He didn't try to speak too much, he sounded gentle. A gentle giant. Unfortunately for him, no one was gonna tell him about that day. When she left the room, she went straight home. She doubted someone would ever contact her again about the situation, they would handle it themselves, and probably very badly.

notes: full thing on sunday!! let me know what you think <3

love, mare.

taglist:

@ummmmmwat @ghostlythots @sweetfemmefatal @natxpat @chavarriakeren647 @ravenmoore14 @farther-than-pleiades @internallyscreamings @hwromi @atoxicrat @cuti3maddi3 @deafeningkittenblaze @its-celeste @serene-hills @lexidoll12 @poohkie90 @lunatiquess

@warmedbythebody @katzykat @iristhemuse @azkza @keiraslayz @abbyandermine @jennyjencakes @dest-nai @corset-briefs @nutze-kekse @ilytsukiw @b3anspr0ut

@pondsblog @missyouzoe @fallenkitten @bigauthorrascalturkey @bethtay @angelynn-nicole @starluv @stargirlisworld @giyuuslittleslut @impossiblecupcakelight

@rkrivees-blog @ghosts-hoe @kam1snotverysmart @gauky76 @freyjaaasstuff @spicyspicyliving @scottpilgrimvsmyfists @courtney0-0 @shinchanboi

[martellprincess-writes]

0NE NATI0N UNDER BL00D AND H0NEY

SERIES MASTERLIST: HAIKYUU FULL-LENGTH FIC

synopsis. At an all-women's college, soldiers take siege during martial law.

aesthetics. psychological thriller, 80's/90's japan. haikyuu!! soldiers vs. female students, martial law, hostages, war-torn society, dark academia, stockholm syndrome, military AU, tragedy, loss, angst

warnings. EXTREMELY DARK CONTENT // 20+ // minors + under-20s DO NOT INTERACT please // NONCON // GRAPHIC CONTENT // PHYSICAL VIOLENCE // nsfw, abuse, twisted and toxic relationships, stockholm syndrome

pairing. various haikyuu boys x multiple f! characters

authors note. this is my attempt to bring more full-length fics to this fandom and to explore more depth with original female characters instead of x readers. one-shot x readers … i’m tired

auth. note 2. links go to ao3 because i’m not putting myself through the hell of posting a full fic on this site

status: ongoing

CHAPTER LIST  ━━ ━━ ━━ ━━ ━━ ━━ ━━

01 ━━ WIND BEFORE THE STORM: AKAASHI, BOKUTO

02 ━━ WE'LL SAVE YOU: MATSUKAWA, IWAIZUMI

03 ━━ CALL US LUCKY: IWAIZUMI, MATSUKAWA, AKAASHI, DAICHI, MEIAN, ENNOSHITA

04 ━━ CAN'T SAVE YOU NOW: ENNOSHITA, OSAMU, KAGEYAMA, IWAIZUMI

05 ━━ NOWHERE TO CALL HOME: IWAIZUMI, OIKAWA, AKAASHI, DAICHI, AONE

06 ━━ SO MUCH INNOCENCE: ENNOSHITA, MATSUKAWA, BOKUTO, TANAKA, AKAASHI, ATSUMU

07 ━━ NIGHT HAS COME: BOKUTO, AKAASHI, TANAKA, ATSUMU, MEIAN, MATSUKAWA, OIKAWA

08 ━━ tbd

09 ━━ tbd

10 ━━

11 ━━

[the-traveling-poet]

hellooo! Could I request a Levi x member of the special operation squad reader, where after they go back to the HQ the reader, who has always been a strong soldier broke down in a panic attack? Like, she usually doesn’t even cry for her comrades’ deaths but after losing half of the original squad, and especially Petra, and seeing their bodies being sacrificed for nothing she can’t take it anymore and break down in Levi’s office after maybe having to report? Thank youuu <3

Comfort

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The 57th expedition outside the walls was a bust, despite the information about new threat of the Female Titan the Corps had gathered.

And with information, came many lives lost.

Upon returning to the abandoned HQ with Eren and Captain Levi, Y/N did her best to keep her composure after losing all of her closest friends. But at the end of the day, what she really needs is the comforting reassurance of the man who holds her heart.

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Pairing: Levi x Reader

Warnings: Character death, angst, language.

SFW, angst-to-comfort, S2

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A/N: ofc anon! I love this idea so much, rip the og s.o.s. T-T

Maybe a little ooc Levi, but I tried my best to keep him both true to his canon character and a little more on the softer side for reader.

As always if something isn’t to your expectations just let me know and I’ll re-write whatever!

Enjoy~ 🤎

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Deep breaths. Deep breaths, and don’t think about it.

You’d repeated this to yourself in your head for the past several hours, to no avail.

You were thankful you’d made it back alive from yet another expedition, of course, and was relieved to have successfully brung Eren back mostly unharmed with your squad. Well, what was left of it, at least.

As a soldier, you knew the risks you and your comrades took every time you swung up onto the backs of your horses and charged out of Maria’s gates. You’d seen death countless times. Bloody, mangled corpses littering the ground or sticking half out of steaming titan corpses before they could be fully devoured.

Over time, the overwhelming fear you’d feel every time ebbed away. It still grieved you to see familiar faces lying unmoving at your feet, but you no longer would lock up or break down on the spot.

You always saved that for later, when your assistance wasn’t needed and you had privacy to mourn on your own time.

But now? Now, that had all changed.

The deaths of your squad, the Special Operations Squad, was something you couldn’t just tune out until you reached your room for the night.

You’d been there, the moment steel met flesh and severed Gunther’s nape. You’d been there, when Eld’s body was crushed between the titan’s teeth. You’d heard Petra’s horrified screams and the sickening crunch of her spine shattering when the female titan slammed her petite frame against a tree. You’d tried to hold Oulo back, but his rage blinded him to the giant’s hand swinging towards him.

You’d frozen in fear, unable to make your fingers pull the triggers of your gear to race forward and avenge your comrades. Your friends. You’d hung in the air motionlessly, breath ragged and heart pounding. You urged yourself to move, to fight, to get out of the way and grab Eren as he zipped past you, screaming in rage.

But you hadn’t. You could only watch with tear blurred vision as the boy transformed, taking the female titan head on in combat.

It had been years since you had lost yourself on the field of battle, but here you found yourself; dangling there uselessly with your eyes stuck on the scene of the mangled redhead at the base of the tree below you.

You had dropped to the ground, barely feeling the impact that stung your feet and crouched beside your best friend. You knew it was pointless, you knew what you had seen. Yet still you reached out a shaking hand and checked for a pulse.

Gone. Just like all the others.

Unable to kneel any longer, you had collapsed to your knees, silent sobs racking your body and making your ribs ache with every jagged breath you drew.

The only thing that eventually snapped you out of it, was the sound of Eren’s titan screaming in the distance. Numbly, you’d gotten to your feet and took one last look around the forest. Though you couldn’t see Gunther’s body from where you stood, you made a silent promise to yourself to come back for their bodies.

Once the battle was won and Eren was retrieved, you had done just that. You led a small patrol to the spot in the large forest where their bodies remained, just as mangled as you’d left them.

You tried to keep your composure for your living comrades, but the dead squad’s glassy eyes staring blankly ahead, paired with their twisted expressions of agony frozen in time, you couldn’t contain the tears that rolled down your cheeks.

You’d personally carried them all in your arms, one by one, and wrapped them carefully in white sheets before setting them down comfortably in a wagon brought along for this very purpose.

You’d made it back your Captain, Levi. Taking note of his barely noticeable limp, you’d walked near him, just in case.

At the moment, your feelings towards the man were overridden by your grief, so you thought nothing much of the way he had shuffled closer to you, a worried look in his eyes aimed your way.

You never saw him eyeing you out if the corner of his eye, emotions being shown freely for once on his stoic face.

But all too soon that look was wiped away, when two scouts had gone back to retrieve the remains of their fallen friend, only to being danger hurdling towards what was left of the Scouting Legion.

You’d fought for several long minuets at titans spilled out for the forrest after the two soldiers who alerted their gaze, guarding the rear of the formation. But distinctly you heard the command being given to toss the bodies. You blood had run cold as your head snapped back towards the direction of the carts, watching on in despair as soldiers lowered the back gates and started heaving up soldier’s dead bodies to throw off the cart.

You understood this was to lessen the load, and ensure faster travels back to Wall Maria while trying to escape the titans nipping at your heels.

But the moment you caught Levi’s eye from on up ahead, and caught sight of stark red hair peeking through the white sheets of a body being trampled under foot, you again lost your composure.

It was a miracle you hadn’t been severely injured; at least physically, during the whole ordeal.

Eyes wide and a scream stuck in your throat, you watched as your closest friend, Petra Ral, was thrown over the wagon and trampled over by the hoard.

You’d wiped at your face and zipped back to your horse, landing with a barely concealed sob and raced forward after the rest of the formation.

Shaking your head once more, you straightened out your uniform and repeated that same phrase in your head.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths, and don’t think about it.

Steeling yourself, you raised a hand slowly and knocked on the door before you.

You’d returned to the old HQ some hours ago, alone with your thoughts as you helped settle an unconscious Eren into a spare bedroom to rest. His comrades had come in to check on him, but you hardly paid them any mind. At any moment, you knew you would break. Try as you might to store away your emotions for later, every minute that passed you by only made the task harder and harder.

But you had duties, as a scout. A scout of the Special Operations Squad, nonetheless.

So here you stood, before the old and worn office door, raising your fist to lightly knock on the surface.

“What is it?” a muffled voice responded to your knock.

After a short pause, you drew a shaky breath and spoke. “Cadet Y/N L/N, sir. I’ve finished the report I was assigned to.”

Though it was an oral report, as both you and your Captain knew, you’d spent some time alone to gather the right words to say in order to prevent yourself breaking down in front of someone else. Much less your Captain.

A tired and low voice granted you entry, and you slowly twisted the brass knob and entered the old office space.

Near the back wall of the office facing a window, stood your Captain. He was rigid, unmoving as he stared hard out the window. Giving a crisp salute, despite his turned back, you began the speech you’d preformed in your head hours prior.

“Captain, I’ve come to give my report on the happenings of the Special Operations Squad during the Fifty Seventh Exposition while your squad was under my care.” You started off boldly. Perhaps too boldly, you thought, as Levi spun on his heel and shot you his trademark glare.

Except this time, you didn’t detect annoyance or malice in his cold look. This time, all you saw was pain; mental, emotional, and physical, as well as a poorly hidden grief.

“Spit out then, L/N,” he scoffed, not quite looking you in the eye.

Taking a moment to compose yourself, you tried to continue.

“Yes sir. After your departure from the squad to rejoin with Commander Erwin, I took charge as ordered. We tethered the horses, as asked, and took a rest within the tree tops far away from the titan. After a rest, we were alerted by a smoke signal, one that told us you were on your way to regroup with us.”

A sudden pang of guilt coursed through you as you continued to recount the mission. Guilt for not figuring out the flare was a trap ahead of time…

“By the time we neared the cloaked individual who shot the flair, we realized…I realized…I was mistaken. When we thought it had been you; it had really been the trailer. She…She slit Cadet Gunther’s nape, before transforming and running us deeper into the wood.”

Here you voice started to waver, but you tried your best to push through your emotions and do your duty as second in command.

“Gunther Shultz fell, leaving the rest of us to guard Eren while coming up with a new course of action. Originally, we sent him away; for his safety, of course, while we dealt with the threat. By the time Eren was out of my sight, Eld Gin was slain by the Female. And soon after…After…”

Your breath was coming in rapid inhales and exhales, making you dizzy and light headed. Recounting this verbally was much more difficult than it had been earlier in the day when you recited your practiced lines in your head.

Verbalizing the events made them more and more real to you, reminding you this wasn’t some horrendous nightmare your subconscious had conjoined up.

Shifting your eyes down to your feet, you blinked back tears and tried your best to continue. During this time, you hadn’t noticed the change in expression on Levi’s face as he silently listened to your report.

“I attempted to restrain Oulo, as he lost control of his emotions during the battle when…When Petra…”

You swallowed thickly, your saliva doing little to coat you suddenly dry throat.

“Cadet Petra Ral…She fought valiantly. She attempted to cut out the bitch’s eyes, and avenge both Gunther and Eld. But before she could…She….She…”

You swallowed down your nausea as your mind went back to the memory of her twisted spine and splintered ribs. The way her uniform glistened with her own blood, tore apart by her shattered bones poking through her skin and the fabrics she wore.

“I was unable to aid them. Though I tried, I was too late. Eren Jaeger had taken matters into his own hands in my stead, taking on the female in combat…”

By now your voice wavered on every word you spoke, and your knees shook as they attempted to hold up your full weight. Your head spun, and your heart was frantically pounding in your chest; skipping beats and causing your diaphragm to ache and spasm with how you held your emotions back by a thread of restraint.

“I…I tried…I checked…I couldn’t…I…”

At this point, every word that left your chapped lips was accompanied by a deep gasp of breath. You felt as though you would collapse at any moment, and your hands shook uncontrollably.

You knew this sensation well, yet you’d never had had to suppress your emotions in front of someone like this before. The idea that you were losing control scared you shitless, but you still tried to push on.

“I’m sorry,” you finally managed to whisper, your head hung low and your vision obscured by unshed tears.

The office was silent for a long time, save for your strangled gasps as you forced oxygen into your lungs. Finally, the sound of Levi’s footsteps drawing closer toward you caused your gaze to snap up and meet his.

His expression was unreadable, as per usual. But for once, you could have sworn you caught the faintest flicker of sorrow mar his features. He slowly walked closer until he was standing before you, his eyes trained in your downturned face.

Once he came to a stop, you felt a hand gently grip your shoulder, causing you to flinch ever so slightly. Even still, he caught the motion.

“Y/N,” he whispered softly. “Look at me.”

Slowly, you dragged your gaze upwards to meet his, guilt and despair shining brightly in your teary eyes.

“You did your duty. You followed through with your orders, and helped ensure Eren’s safety. Most importantly, you made it back alive.”

His soft tone caught you off guard, causing your eyes to widen as you stared intently into his grey eyes.

“Captain-“

“No. None of that,” he cut you off. “You cannot…You will not, blame their deaths on yourself. All of you knew the risks. You all knew. Their deaths are not your fault.”

His whispered words finally broke the ever building dam in your heart, and you fell to your knees. His hand remained in your shoulder as you silently wept. Faintly, you registered his thin fingers tracing faint circles against your shoulder, but the grief you felt canceled out the feeling of butterflies in your stomach from his touch.

“I-I’m sorry. I couldn’t-“

“Don’t make me repeat myself, Y/N.”

Kneeling down in front of you, he placed a calluses hand under your chin and forced your head up to meet his gaze.

“I shouldn’t have left my quad; orders or not. If anyone is to blame, it’s me. I failed my squad, not you.”

His words sent a shudder through your heart as you attempted to compose yourself.

“N-no. Not your fault, Captain.” you mumbled.

“Levi. Just Levi.” He whispered softly, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

Stiffing a hiccup, you looked up at him in surprise. “I’m sorry I couldn’t lead them better. I froze. I shut down and I shouldn’t have-“

“It happens. To all of us. You did what you could, and for that I am grateful.” He spoke in a stern voice, but no anger was to be found in his tone.

“What has happened, has happened. All that we can do now is honor their memories and their sacrifices by continue on in their stead.” He continued on, looking directly into your eyes. Wiping at your nose, you sniffled and tried your best to slow your tears.

“We cannot live to regret the choices we have made.”

His words sent a shock through system, but despite the grief you felt you knew he was right. Unable to resist any longer, you threw your arms around his shoulders and buried your face against his chest.

He stiffened slightly at the contact, but then slowly brought his arms up to rest upon your shoulders as he knelt with you in the office floor. Faintly, you registered a trail of warm liquid rolling down your cheek, alerting you to your tears. Without a word, Levi wiped them away.

“I’m glad you made it back to us. To me.” He whispered softly against your hair. “You are strong, and through you their strength shines. You did what you could, and you did your duty as a scout. No one could ask any more than that.”

You embraced him tightly, your anxiety ever so slowly subsiding. Never fully, but enough to choke out a few words of your own.

“I’m sorry, Levi. I’m sorry for your squad…Our, squad.”

“As you said, they fought valiantly. Up until the very end. Their loss grieves me as much as it does you, but we have to remain strong. We have to keep fighting. For them.”

You nodded your head against his chest, only subconsciously noting your tears had dampened his shirt. He ran his fingers delicately through your hair, as though trying to sooth you. Though his movement were awkward, you appreciated his attempting comfort and leaned your head snugger against his chest.

“Thank you, Levi.” You whispered.

You felt his hand trailing soothingly down your back as he sighed, holding you ever so slightly closer.

“I’m here, Y/N. I’m not going to leave you, and I’ll be damned if you try and leave me, too. We’re in this together….I’ve got you.”

[onceuponastory]

aftermath - bucky barnes x reader

There's a room in a hotel in New York City That shares our fate and deserves our pity I don’t want to remember it all, The promises I made, if you just hold on. - twin skeletons by fall out boy

Plot: Five years since her boyfriend Bucky Barnes got blipped and disappeared along with half of the world, Y/N still finds herself trying to pick up the pieces and deal with her new life alone. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Warnings: Mentions of death, grief, nightmares, and the reader seeing and hearing things that aren’t really there. It’s angsty but with a happy ending. As always, if I miss any triggers, please let me know.  A/N: This is one of my fave (and in my mind, one of the most underrated) Fall Out Boy songs, so I wanted to write something inspired by it. And here we are!

“Yes, Tony I know. I’m in my hotel room now…. No, I won’t have a late night. I know we’re up early tomorrow.…Yes, I promise. Okay, bye.” Hanging up the phone, Y/N sighs with relief as she kicks her heels off. After the stressful day she’s had, she’s ready to soak in the bath, order some room service and relax. As a personal assistant slash PR person for the Avengers (and now an occasional babysitter for Morgan), Y/N has followed along to every press conference and government meeting across the world. And ever since the Blip wiped out most of the population five years ago, Tony and the rest of the surviving Avengers have been in high demand. Both as the only ones able to save the world, and as the only ones who have a chance of bringing everyone else back. Which also means that she’s extremely busy too. This past week, she’s had to go to about five different press conferences and twice as many meetings. And that’s not even including all the TV interviews.

Yet even though she feels like she’s being pulled in multiple directions, part of her is glad to be spending so many nights in hotels, away from her home. Ever since her boyfriend Bucky Barnes was blipped, her home has been so empty and quiet. All being at home does is remind her of just how lonely she is, and how much she misses Bucky. Of course, she’s always alone in her hotel rooms, but at least she’s not surrounded by photos of her, Bucky and their friends. She doesn’t have to stare at their smiling faces and remember the good times, and how they’ll never happen again now that they’re gone.

But at least now she can finally get some much needed rest before it’s time to do it all over again tomorrow. Y/N honestly does love her job, especially getting to spend her time with such a…varied mix of characters, but there’s one part of it she loves most of all. That it’s where she met Bucky. They met on her first assignment, tasked with reintegrating the reformed assassin into modern life, and ensuring he was ready to become the Avenger everyone wanted him to be. Despite their original apprehensions towards each other, she was smitten with the super soldier from the beginning. And from what Bucky told her after they started dating, he was just as smitten with her, too. From there, the rest was history. Bucky came to visit her as much as he could (which turned out to be every day he wasn’t on a mission) under the guise of helping her with her work, even though everyone knew it was just to spend time with her. Not that anyone ever stopped him, though. Those were the best days. The ones where she got to hang out with her boyfriend and call it working. 

Y/N’s eyes glance down at the ring on her finger. It’s small and simple: a silver band with a small diamond set in the middle. Some might find its simplicity embarrassing, yet Y/N adores it. Bucky gave her the ring before he and the others went off to fight Thanos. He told her it was to symbolise their love for each other, how he thought of her constantly while he was away, and that he would always come back to her. When she got it, Y/N almost burst into tears. She was so full of love for Bucky, and she knew she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. When he’d get back, they’d start planning their future together. 

Only this time, he never returned. And now, he might never come back. As emotion overtakes herself once more, Y/N wills herself not to cry, even though she knows it’s impossible. Besides, what else are you supposed to do when your boyfriend’s gone?

In the first two years after the Blip, Y/N still had high hopes that Bucky was alive and would be back. She used to stay up every night, waiting for a phone call or the sound of their front door opening, signifying his return. Because whenever Bucky was away, even if he was late, he would always phone or get someone else to contact her. Yet as time went on with no sightings or other reappearances, Y/N slowly lost hope that he’d come back. After all, there’s only so many nights you can stay awake for hours, waiting on a call that never comes, or scouring through your mail, looking for the handwriting that you know by heart. Of course, Y/N still has hope he’ll be back, but since it’s been five years with no word from any of them, her hopes have faded into almost nothing. 

Y/N has tried her best to keep an open mind, because she knows Tony and the others are doing their best to fix everything. After all, she’s had to sit through multiple meetings and draft endless reports about the surviving Avengers’ plans to fix the mess Thanos left. Still though, a part of her wants to cry and scream at every single one of them, to demand where Bucky is and why they haven’t found him or the others until her throat is hoarse and her voice is gone. Of course, she knows it’s not their fault, but she has to let out all her pain and anger somehow. And more often than not, Y/N wishes she was the one who disappeared instead of Bucky.

Once her bath water has finished running, Y/N peels herself out of her clothes and lowers her body into the water, sighing happily as the warm water laps around her skin. As she relaxes, letting out all the stress of the past few days, her mind drifts back to happier times. Bucky always used to love undressing her and joining her in the bath. He especially loved running the cool metal of his arm down her back and pressing it against her to cool her down as he massaged her body wash into her skin. Even imagining the sensation is enough for her body to heat up. She closes her eyes, and suddenly, she feels Bucky’s cool touch against her once more. Shivers run across her body, spreading all the way to her fingertips. “Mmm….” She murmurs. The sensation is soon followed by the warmth of their bodies pressing against each other, and the feeling of him kissing her shoulders and neck, leaving no part of her skin untouched. It’s as if he never left. “Bucky….” she breathes. It’s the first time in years that she’s said his name. She forgot how nice his name sounds in her voice. After so long without him, it’s the sweetest sound she’s ever heard.

Yet when no reply comes, Y/N opens her eyes. For a moment, she expects Bucky to be there, the same smile on his face. Ready to tell her he loves her and to pull her close for another kiss. But of course, he’s not there, and Y/N realises she was just imagining things again. Her mind likes to do that: torturing her by immersing her in her happy memories with Bucky, keeping her in a tight enough grasp to make her believe they’re real this time. And then, just as she’s about to reach out and touch him, to pull him back to her…the true reality hits her and she’s alone again. This time, she’s sitting in a lukewarm bath in a hotel room after her friends and co-workers failed to find her boyfriend and friends again. As the full realisation dawns, an anguished sob finally escapes Y/N’s lips. The sob that she’s been trying to hide from everyone for the past five years, so the Avengers didn’t lose hope or feel even more guilty. But now, the full extent of her grief and guilt is released, as are all her unshed tears. As the flood of tears streams down her cheeks, Y/N grips the sides of the bath, trying to keep herself upright as her body shakes. She's crying so hard she can barely breathe, and she soon begins to hyperventilate. By this point, she’s sure most of the hotel can hear her sobs, but she can’t stop herself anymore.

She lays there for what feels like hours, crying for the love she lost, and the future they can’t have together until the bath water is freezing cold. Even then, it takes her a while to find the strength to get out. Her legs almost give way when she stands and as she wraps a towel against her still shaking body. Once she’s finally ready for bed, she makes her way back through to the bedroom, ready for another sleepless night.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A Few Weeks Later

“Are you sure about this?” Y/N asks, watching the Avengers busy themselves before their next attempt to defeat Thanos. In all honesty, she doesn’t fully understand their plan. All she really knows is they’re using time travel to go back and save the others. As they continue to pack and prepare, Y/N can feel the anxious pit growing in her stomach. The last time she said goodbye before a mission, she ended up losing so much, including the love of her life. Who’s she going to lose this time?

“Not really. But we’re going to try, anyway.” Steve admits, laughing awkwardly. But despite his attempts to seem optimistic, she can see uncertainty and grief behind his eyes. Steve does that a lot, she’s noticed. Since the Blip, he’s done it even more. Hiding behind his Captain America persona, the symbol of hope and bravery, hoping that it masks his fear and that he doesn’t have to talk about his true feelings, or the amount of loss he’s been through. After all, it’s not just her who’s lost Bucky. 

“Steve….” Y/N begins, but he cuts her off with a wave of his hand, signifying that he’s okay. Or perhaps it’s just to tell her not to ask him if he’s okay, because he doesn’t know the answer to that anymore. But then again, neither does she. 

“Well, I think we’re ready to go.” Steve announces, receiving comms on his earpiece. Immediately, Y/N rushes forward, pulling him into a tight hug. He gasps slightly, letting out an “Oof!” but accepts the hug nevertheless. “What’s this for?” When she pulls back, Steve notices the tears in her eyes.

“Bring him back for me, alright? Please?” She whispers. With a sigh, Steve nods.

“I’ll do my best.” Before she can say anything more, a voice sounds:

“Ooh, are we doing goodbye hugs? Can I get one?” Wiping her eyes, Y/N giggles. 

“Yes Scott. Of course you can.” Then, after a round of hugs and well wishes, the Avengers are off to save the world again. And Y/N is alone once more. As time goes on and on with no news, the wait becomes more and more unbearable. Especially since, as their PR person, everyone keeps asking her for information that she doesn’t have. All she can do is reassure people that they’re trying their best, and should be back soon, hoping that it is actually soon, and that there won’t be another five years of loss and grief.

One day, a few weeks after the Avengers left, Y/N sits alone in her office, working through her emails. The door opens, and she sighs. “If that’s another request for comment, stick it with the others. My answer is the same as it always is: no, I don’t know when they’ll be back.” She orders, not looking up from her laptop screen. Instead, though, a voice says:

“Y/N?” The same voice that she’s missed hearing for five years. 

The same voice she hears in her dreams and nightmares every night.

The same voice she’s longed to hear in person ever since it left her five years ago.

The voice of Bucky Barnes. 

Immediately, Y/N’s head snaps up. Bucky stands in the doorway. He looks just the same as he did when he left, his shoulder length hair falling around his face and his metal arm glinting in the light. Y/N gasps, and slowly, she gets up, walking towards him. Despite her hope though, and that she’s been waiting years for this day, she’s been so used to disappointment, to her visions of Bucky being nothing more than a daydream, that at first she thinks it’s still a cruel trick by her mind. “No. No, it can’t be. I’m still dreaming. I have to be. It’s always just a dream.” She pinches her skin delicately, expecting to be awoken from her dream and be alone again. When that doesn’t work, she furrows her brows. “Bucky? Is it really you?” she asks, and Bucky chuckles, shaking his head. 

“No, you’re not dreaming. Hey love.” Love. Dream Bucky never calls her that. Still, Y/N reaches out and touches his chest. Even though she can see each breath and even feel the faint murmur of his heartbeat through his shirt, she still wants to make sure that he’s real. After all, she’s experienced more than enough heartbreak by dreaming about holding Bucky again, then waking up and expecting to see him by her side, only to be met with disappointment. She touches practically every inch of his face, tracing over every mark and freckle. She even runs her fingers through his hair, twirling brunette strands around her fingers. Bucky stands there and lets her do it, understanding how important this is to her. Then, her eyes study his face. His lips are just as pink as they’ve always been, still so kissable. And his eyes. Oh god, his eyes. They’re just the same blue she remembers. Because he is the same Bucky Barnes. She’s not dreaming this time. Bucky’s really back.

“It is you.” She whispers, immediately starting to cry. “You’re back! You came back to me! You’re alive, you’re here, you’re-” She cuts herself off with a sob. Bucky lifts his hands, cupping her chin and wiping away her tears, even though his own tears are falling too. 

“When I was away from you for so long, it tore me up inside. All I could think about was you and if you were safe. I didn’t care what happened to me, I just wanted you to be alright.. I missed you so much.” He glances down at the ring on her finger, and he smiles widely. “You’re still wearing it.” He gasps.

“Of course I am. I love you Bucky. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” Still grinning, Bucky traces a finger along her jawline, making her moan softly. 

“God, I’ve missed that noise.” He murmurs, before leaning in closer and kissing her. At first, he kisses her just as softly as before. However, their pent up grief and heartbreak is quickly released, and the kiss deepens, so much so that when they stop, both are giddy and breathless.

“Bucky…please don’t take so long to come back to me next time.” The pair giggle. 

“You won’t have to worry about that, Y/N. I will never leave you again. I promise.” He pecks her lips again. “I’m yours forever.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Just a reminder I don’t do taglists anymore, so please follow @onceuponastory-library​ and turn on notifications to be notified when I post!

[globetrotter28]

Another Cover Up (Part 6)

Fandom: The Boys

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Fem!Reader

Summary: After Herogasm, Butcher, Hughie and Soldier Boy realise they might need more reinforcements. After doing more research, they discover the woman who was also injected with Compound V alongside Soldier Boy back in the 40’s. Everyone also thought she was KIA that day at Nicaragua. But if Soldier Boy was still alive… maybe she was too?

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Tags: @msbadgirl @queenofspades20 @mimzy1994 @erinnkenobi @goldngguk @ateliefloresdaprimavera @roseblue373 @acarboni21 @sexyvixen7 @buckybarnes-1917 @valkyrie418 @multishipper @bxwitched @capswife @bluedragonflylady @leigh70 @xxemoluverxx @quixscentsposts @junie-keene @depressed-kay @deansbbyx @just-levyy @lacilou @ladysparkles78 @kat-nee @themerc-with-a-mouth @howlerwolfmax

Chapter warnings: Mentions of past torture, past sexual assault, past relationship between Fem!Reader x a surprise canon character

Series Masterlist - Part 5

You drove and drove, only one destination in mind. The music from Butcher's fucked radio was playing something from the sixties. He had been able to get it to the lowest volume when you were together, and you couldn't be bothered to turn it off. You also didn't mind the background noise from the storm taking place in your head.

Did you go too far with Ben? You knew he was affected by what he went through in Russia, he told you as much, that he was reacting badly to certain triggers. And after your talk with Butcher about this PTSD, you knew that was what he was experiencing. Maybe even a bit yourself... so why did you throw that out? That he was too busy blowing people sky high?

You knew it was an emotional reaction to your feelings towards him. Damn it, if you'd just told him years ago, maybe you'd be together, maybe not. But you would have worked through it all at least. You knew he was too important to you to ever lose. You would have made it work... no matter his response...

Over the years... the many... many years... you felt you had become so close to being more than just best friends who grew up together. You were the only person to ever see each other in their best and worst state a number of times... the only one who had been a constant to each other. So why was it always so difficult for you?

On the other hand... you couldn't believe him! Ben angered you so, saying such misogynistic shit. That you needed a good fuck?

"Are you fucking kidding me?" You can't help but growl out, your hands tightening on the steering wheel.

Yes... you knew Ben had this macho front. He was a walking, talking, breathing definition of misogyny... but you knew he was always more than that. When you were young, he never acted this way. You knew it was played up for the camera's, this image that Vought wanted to portray... but there were a number of occasions where you just couldn't tell what was real and what was an act.

Did he really believe those things? Did he really think that about you?

Well, fuck. 

You try being abused your entire childhood, mentally, verbally, physically, sexually... and you come back at me and tell me you aren't just a little bit fucked up.

You knew that control was something you struggled with. When you've had it taken from you, then get just a little bit back, you find it hard to let go.

But did I need someone to screw me to calm down?

No. I think I'm fine.

Do I enjoy it? Hell yeah! But just because it's been forty years...

Your internal battle comes to an abrupt holt when you find yourself approaching your chosen destination. You pull up, parking in the abandoned car park outside the matching abandoned pizza restaurant. You sigh heavily and get out of the car. You take a moment, looking up at the jolly cartoon beaver smiling down at you, a smile filled with promises of a simpler time...

You make your way towards the building, walking around the back to find the back door you used to enter through all those years ago. When you find it, you see it had recently been opened, proven by the dirt and dead leaves collected over the years being pushed back, leaving a smear of mud against the concrete.

You pull the door out, softly cursing at the loud screech it makes dragging across the cement. You pass through the doorway, taking a look at your surroundings. The dark store room you walk into has a few old cardboard boxes, the smell of mould pungent in the air, spiderwebs and some other creepy crawlies, you're sure. But you try to make your way through, as silent as you could be.

Just as you're moving through the hallway, your telepathic powers pick up another mind. Only a moment later, you see a reflection of the sun through a crack in the wall hit something in the corner of your eye.

Time immediately slows down, where you see a silver blade swing towards you, aimed directly at your throat. You quickly bend backwards, throwing your head as far back as possible. You feel the breeze on your face form the air moving around the sharp steel as you watch it glide past your face, only a hairs width from your skin.

Time snaps back, as you pull yourself forward, bending down and swiping your leg out towards those of the attacker. They jump quickly to avoid being knocked over, as you roll forwards. You jump to your feet, hands out with violet light shining from them, your powers at the ready. The attacker approaches you, clearly not intimidated by your evident Supe abilities. You shoot a violet coloured blast at them, which they quickly dodge.

You notice they reach towards their waist, and in a flash, they throw something at you. Your keen eyes are able to see another steel blade and you twist your wrist, sending a forcefield out. The throwing knife bounces off the forcefield, clattering to the ground. You bring it down, seeing the dark figure still storming towards you with their katana at the ready. Their movements are short and fast, displaying their knowledge combat.

You raise your hands once again, using them to snatch the sword out of their grip and throwing it back towards them. Again, their combat abilities are well practiced as they roll sideways. You see another blade being retrieved from their boot.

"ENOUGH!" You yell, sending a blast towards them. They shoot back onto their behind, not a sound leaving them.

You walk up to them, seeing the figure covered, literally, head to toe in a black suit, not showing a sliver of skin. You listen to their mind, knowing exactly who it was the moment you heard it earlier. But you recognised it had changed significantly since you last heard it forty years prior.

"Erving." You say, towering over Black Noir's body as he moves to rest on his elbows, face tilted up to you.

You can hear his internal voice.

"Y-Y/N?" He sounds different to what you remember.

"Like seeing a ghost, huh?" You say.

"You're not really here... you... you died." He almost sounds like a child...

"You know damn well I didn't die, Noir." You growl, anger rising up inside of you.

He looks up at you, sadness colouring his thoughts, along with shame.

"I didn't mean it." He sobs internally, as if he was a child apologising to their sibling they just hurt.

"But you did it." You say, feeling the sadness and betrayal break through, causing your voice to crack.

Black Noir looks down in shame. Good. You think to yourself. He should feel shame.

"You did it even after you didn't want to."

He looks back up at you, moving to stand up. As he does, you can see his shoulders slumped.

"I did."

"Why?" He looks back down to his feet. "Why?" You push, anger evident in your tone.

"Because Edgar wanted Soldier Boy out of the picture... and he knew you wouldn't let that happen... not without a fight."

What he says makes sense. You know you would fight till your dying breath to save Ben... and you knew your powers outdid anyone else on the team... if you knew what was going to happen... they would not have succeeded.

"I thought we were friends, Erving... even after... everything..." You say, your anger mixing with sadness as you recount the short period you and he were involved with each other.

"Y-Y/N... we were." He says sadly.

"No... friends don't do that, Erving. Friends don't betray each other and send them off to be tortured... burned with fire and acid... to be starved... to be stabbed... to be cut with blades, wires... blasted with radiation… to be raped..." you swallow thickly, tears filling your eyes. "Friends don't do that... they don't do that... to people they claim to love. No matter the context. You knew where Ben and I were going... and you helped make that happen... I may not have been able to love you the way you needed... or deserved... but, Erving... I never deserved any of that..."

"I know, Y/N... I know and I can never tell you how sorry I am..." he's says this, knowing you would never forgive him. "Soldier Boy...?"

"Is alive. As I am sure you are aware, seeing as you are hiding out here." You gesture to the derelict building.

You see the memories pass through his mind you and he shared here together, in the days when you were once close. Once lovers... memories of a simpler time... fond memories...

You would come here when you both wanted to avoid the spotlight and Vought. He used to share his memories of the place he spent a large chunk of his childhood. A place he used to find comfort in. Which in turn, provided you with comfort. But you promised you would never share this with anyone else.

Noir moves his hand up to his neck, fingers pulling his face mask from beneath the suit on his chest, and begins to lift it off his head...

It takes a lot for you to not react to his once hansom face now badly scared, barely recognisable to who you remember.

Memories of him sitting with you in Nicaragua on that fateful day, lightly joking before he covers your face with a mask. The bitter taste of a chemical strong enough to make you, a Supe, become drowsy. You remember struggling with him, shooting your powers out in attempt to remove him and the mask from your body. You managed to throw him back, his head hitting a rock, but he was able to recover quickly due to his own abilities.

"That wasn't from me..." you say softly, referring to his injury.

"No... Soldier Boy fought back. Even with the rest of the team, without Gunpowder... he was so strong..."

"He was never a saint... and... not all of his actions are inexcusable... but I find it hard to care right now, Erving..."

You move to walk past him, heading to the entrance you entered through.

"Y/N, wait!" You hear him call out in his mind. You stop, back still facing him. "You're... you're just leaving...?" He asks and you read that he's really wondering why you aren't killing him, like he expected you or Ben to do.

Before you answer, you take a deep breath, before letting it go.

"Listen to this carefully, Erving..." you swallow thickly. "I will not be the one to kill you...," you turn your body to look over at him, "at least not today. But I will not be the one to stand in his way." You say, referring to Ben. You see the fear in his remaining good eye. "I may change my mind. And I will know where to find you. Because don't you forget...," you move closer to him, staring directly into his brown orbs, one more cloudy than the other, "I've been inside your mind, Erving... you let that happen... you let me see into every corner of it... even now... I know you more than you probably know yourself... so you have two choices...

You can stay and fight knowing Ben is coming and I will be right beside him... or you can run and hide, living with the knowledge that at any moment... I might turn up... either way, dear, sweet, Erving... your days are numbered." You see his scared jaw clenched tightly before he swallows heavily. "So choose carefully."

You turn and walk out of the building, heading straight to the car before starting the engine and making your way back to the house.

Part 7

Ooooh past relationship between our dear reader and Black Noir? Whaaaaaa???

I’m really enjoying reading your comments guys! So interesting seeing your thoughts and opinions. Across all the sites this is on, there’s a good range of ideas and opinions, and I’m loving them!

Considering this was meant to be a one-shot, I feel like it’s coming together alright. I think I have an idea of where I want to end it, but no idea how many chapters left.

I should be starting a new job shortly too, so I might not get much time to keep up my (not so) regular updating schedule. But in the meantime, I’ll keep writing and try updating when I feel it’s ready.

Thanks everyone! Appreciating the love and support like you wouldn’t believe right now <3

[minefield-of-a-ninja]

Summary: Being with Soldier Boy is like watching a slasher flick or riding a roller-coaster — except you’re actually in the movie, and there are no guard rails.

Characters: Soldier Boy x female reader

Tags/warnings: 18+ ONLY, Soldier Boy in full tactical gear railing you in a three-way mirror, light humiliation, name-calling, Dom/sub undertones

Words: 1400

Author’s notes: thank you @brrose-apothecary​ for the late-night convos dissecting my brain hemorrhaging filth RE: this asshole.

Title from the song A Mistake by Fiona Apple.

I've acquired quite a taste For a well-made mistake I wanna make a mistake Why can't I make a mistake?

“It’s the kind of thing you hear about happening in graveyards at midnight, not in the brightly lit fitting room of a shopping mall clothing store.” is in reference to Satanic panic, which originated in 1980 with the publication of Michelle Remembers, a book co-written by Canadian psychiatrist Lawrence Pazder and his patient, Michelle Smith, which made claims about satanic ritual abuse.

It’s 1982 and the number one song in America is blaring from the speakers in the mall corridor, like a massive transistor radio, but inside the men’s clothing store is a much better sound system.

She’s the only one left in the store for the night. There’s a storm blowing in, and customers have dwindled. She’s contemplating using her one emergency early-close when he strides across the threshold.

Her breath stutters and she freezes where she stands.

He’s broad-shouldered and narrow-waisted with hands and arms that bear the proof of that 600-pound shield he wields so effortlessly. His ass and thighs alone have fueled the fantasies of every male-attracted individual since 1944.

And when he opens that sinful mouth...

“Well, well, looks like it’s my lucky night.” He pulls his bottom lip between his sharp teeth as he saunters closer, raking her suede-encased curves with his forceful gaze. “Do I have you all to myself here, princess?”

He looks around the space, pointedly tightening his fingerless gloves. She knows that it doesn’t really matter to him; he’ll get what he came for either way. She can’t say no to him and she doubts he’d take it as an answer if she tried.

“Yes, sir,” she replies. Her throat is dry so she attempts to swallow the drool accumulating in her mouth.

Soldier Boy chuckles and crowds her against the counter. The stiff leather of his uniform grazes her bare knees.

“Oh, I like that. Good girl.” His voice flows over her like warm molasses and his heavy boots brush the sides of her soft, cream pumps.

The heels level her eyes with his mouth, and she draws a deep breath as she stares at his plump lips. He wraps his gloved hands around her waist, covering the wide belt that matches her shoes and the rest of her outfit.

“Fuck, it makes me so hard when you wear white. Little slut, playing the virgin. Who’re you trying to kid?”

He dips in to trap her lips with his as he shoves the jacket from her shoulders. She’s gripping the edge of the counter so hard the suede pools around her tense wrists.

He stands upright again looking down at her with heavy-lidded contemplation. His tongue dances behind his teeth, and her breath catches in her chest.

“Want me to fuck you right here?” he rumbles, clenching his jaw as he fingers the delicate fringe of her bra top. “Rip this pretty little outfit to shreds.”

She trembles. It’s wrong to let him treat her this way, but the hot shame his words and touch incite makes her so high.

“Can we go in the back?” she asks, breathless. She flicks her eyes up to meet his and licks her lips. “There are mirrors back there.”

He smirks and takes two steps back. “Dirty girl. Lead the way.”

When she reaches for her jacket, he tells her to “leave it” with the same tone of voice that makes her drop to her knees, open her mouth, and take him inside without question.

Once they’re behind the wall and out of sight, he drags her toward a three-way mirror.

“Oh, baby, look at you,” he breathes, towering behind her in their reflection. He slowly peels the bra top upward until her breasts bounce free. “You have the juiciest tits and ass I’ve had in 20 fucking years, you know that?”

She whimpers and her abdomen visibly tightens. She leans back against him and sighs.

He cups and squeezes her breasts. His gloves abrade her smooth skin as he rolls and pinches her nipples between his bare fingertips.

“I can smell how much you want my cock,” he mutters, and she closes her eyes. “Uh-uh.” He clutches her face and her eyes fly open. “Fucking watch me wreck you.”

His other hand disappears between their bodies. She obeys his order and watches as he unzips his pants and rucks her skirt up. When their eyes meet in the mirror again, he’s panting and his gaze is lascivious.

He sways behind her, crouching slightly as a hungry superheated grin splits his face. “Right foot on the bench, hands against the glass.”

She does as she’s told, balancing on one wobbly leg. He loops one arm under her to stabilize her.

“No panties, good little whore.” He guides himself to her wet opening.

“Oh, fu-hu-huck,” she sobs as he slowly screws her open, grinding along the path he’s forged for himself alone over the last seven months.

Before she met Soldier Boy she’d had limited and very ordinary experiences with sex. Then he showed up at her store one night for a last-minute purchase, charmed her into giving him her address, and proceeded to teach her what sex was like for the extraordinary.

She’s doing her damndest to keep her eyes on the mirror. She watches him in full tactical gear, yanking her hips backward, searing into her over and over.

“Up,” he grunts, gathering her wrists in one hand and stretching her arms over her head. He takes a step forward to the side, dips a hand between her thighs, and presses her breasts against the cold glass.

She hisses and her back sags.

“Both feet on the ground,” he murmurs, nuzzling her temple.

She gingerly sets her foot back to the ground and he’s fully blanketing her back and enveloping her. He breathes in her ear and pulls the shell of it between his lips as he draws light circles around her clit.

“Beg me,” he murmurs.

He’s barely notched inside her at this point, holding her wrists against the glass up high. Her back is painfully, blissfully arched, and she can feel him from her fingertips to her toes. Her cunt rhythmically throbs, beckoning him back inside. She cants her hips and he pulls back.

“Beg,” he enunciates.

“Empty,” she whines.

He nods and presses a kiss to her temple. “I can feel how hungry you are for my cock. You want me to rail you fucking stupid, so just say it.”

“Please,” she whispers.

She has no pride, no modesty. He’s chased it all away. One day, he’ll ruin her, and she’ll thank him for it.

“That’s it,” he sighs, dragging his hand from her wrists to her shoulder and the other to grip her hip.

He starts to drive up into her slow and hard, sending shock waves up her spine and punching sobs from her chest.

Of all the pornographic films he’s shown her, she’s never seen anything like this.

“You love my dick. Say it.”

“I love your dick.”

“That’s right. No one else, you hear me?” He grabs a handful of her hair, igniting a hot sting that sends her over the edge.

She shouts, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.

He ruts up into her like that until she stops convulsing, then slows his thrusts before pulling out and spinning her to face him. He grins at her and then takes her in a bruising kiss. When he pulls away again, his eyes are dark and wide.

“On your knees,” he breathes, pushing her to kneel. “Hands behind your back.”

He wraps her hair around his fist, feeds her his cock, then sets a pace, drilling her warm, welcoming throat.

He taught her how to take him like this. The feel of his hot, smooth cock snaking along her tongue and down her throat is unspeakable. It’s the kind of thing you hear about happening in graveyards at midnight, not in the brightly lit fitting room of a shopping mall clothing store.

“Best little fuck toy I’ve ever had,” he seethes, mercilessly driving into her. “Gonna come so hard. Fucking take it.”

She chokes and gags around him but he doesn’t let up. Instead, he doubles down until he bursts. He spills from the corners of her mouth as she gasps for air.

He huffs a laugh as he squats in front of her and studies her face.  “Such a good girl,” he mutters.

He licks his lips as he uses his fingers to swipe his come from her chin and throat to push it back into her mouth.

“Get the store closed up. I’ll see you back at your place.”

Without another word or touch, he stands, tucks himself back in his pants, and swaggers out of the fitting room, leaving her slumped on the floor, gasping, and shaking.

The Boys Fic

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[thebiggerbear]

Jason Teague x Reader - Prompt Response - "Sleep. I'll keep you safe."

Summary: Jason has just helped you escape the clutches of his nefarious mother. Where will you go from here now that you know the truth?

Pairing: Jason Teague x Female!Reader

A/N: Prompt from @thelonelyempath. I wanted to dabble in the darker side of Jason's arc in the show and the mention of the stones, Lana, and his mom. There's such a clear line cut of when he turns from being a character that has your sympathies who is striving hard for some redemption we don't yet understand into being revealed as a calculating murderer who has severe mommy issues (I say that with love of course). The original ending was going to be much darker but I'll admit, once I got to it, I just couldn't do it. To Jason or Y/N. So I apologize if this has the feeling of crawling up to the dark edge to peek over it but then a backing off. Hope it's still okay, though.

A huge thank you to my beta Em for her services. You rock, girl!

Warnings: mentions of gun, implied violence, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of injuries, mentions of possible murder scenarios, mentions of infidelity

Word Count: 4761

Jason Taglist: @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl

"Sleep. I'll keep you safe."

Soldier Boy version | Beau version | Dean version | Jenny version | Tom version | Anael version | SDV Alex version

<-->

Jason unlocked the motel room door and urged you in first as he glanced around, making sure no one else was around. Once you were in, he flipped the light on and moved towards the windows to draw the curtains closed. You remained where he left you, frozen in shock, and dripping on the cheap and questionable-looking carpet.

Both of you were soaked through. You’d gotten caught in the storm when Jason had freed you from captivity, hence beginning the run for your life. Thunder cracked above, causing the motel to shake, and you jumped slightly. You’d been hearing thunder for the last half hour, running in the downpour as lightning ripped through the skies overhead once Jason dumped the car he’d been driving. It was too risky to keep especially since he’d likely stolen it just for this mission alone, thus he’d simply grabbed a bag out of the trunk, tossed it over his shoulder, took your hand, and threw the keys out into the surrounding grass. Ever since, you’d been on the run, Jason leading you to the next town over. When you were both exhausted, Jason had decided on this motel, paid cash for a room, and now you were here. Alone. At any second, you could be taken away again since a certain someone wanted you out of the way and you had a figurative price on your head. Something told you that if you were taken again, this time it would be ensured that you wouldn’t actually survive it. They didn’t want to keep you tied to a chair or temporarily removed from the board — it was clear that they wanted you gone completely. 

You watched Jason move around to further secure the place and, the shock wearing off, you slowly brought yourself to sit down on the edge of one of the beds, not caring that you were probably soaking through the bedspread. You stared into space as flashes of memories began to assault you. You hadn’t been physically tortured, but the things you were told, the things you’d been shown…well, all of that, you’d rather forget. 

You heard a click that made your eyes snap up in Jason’s direction, seeing him checking his gun. That was something new, Jason not only being armed but also apparently being an expert marksman, something he’d proven when coldly and efficiently dispatching your guards. You highly doubted that either of them would ever walk properly again, and it was just one of the many new things you’d learned about your boyfriend these past three days; never in a million years would you have ever thought him capable of wielding a gun. You’d been dating him for six months and it turned out you never really knew him — the real him. Sure, you knew his name was Jason Teague, but you didn’t know just what kinds of things actually came with that name. And to think, you thought the Luthors were soulless, dysfunctional, greedy monsters. 

You stared ahead at the dresser. In a small voice, you stated, “I should call Clark, let him know I’m safe. The Kents can call my parents and let them know I’m okay. Or I can call Lana…if you want.”

Jason stopped what he was doing and his gaze landed on you. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his jaw clench and his lips press together. Truthfully, you were surprised he had even bothered rescuing you since it turned out you weren’t the only Smallville native he had been dating. How he managed to pull that one off you couldn’t be sure. Then again, he had managed to keep this side of himself under wraps up until three days ago when all the while, you’d never been the wiser. You were in love and happy, only seeing what he wanted you to see — how could he not be successful at keeping the fact that he was seeing one of your best friends hidden from you, too?

“You can’t,” Jason answered, his tone icy. “It’s too risky right now.”

You managed a slow nod, your eyes never lifting from the dresser. You’d expected as much and honestly, you didn’t want to drag your parents, the Kents, Clark, or anyone else into this mess. You refused to put them in danger; you’d die first, something that was likely going to happen soon anyway. It was probably better for them not to know the truth about what was going to happen to you. Lana… Well, Lana was already caught up in this whether she knew it or not. You just hoped she had a better chance than you did and that she got out of this. And you really hoped that if she found out the truth about Jason (and you really wanted her to) that she would be stronger than you to get past the pain of his betrayal and get as far away from him as she could. He was a walking death sentence and even though she had unknowingly participated in your heartbreak, you didn’t want that for her at all.

Jason crouched down in front of you but you refused to meet his eyes, instead looking down at your lap. “Let’s see those cuts.” You were numb when he pulled your hands to him and studied the indentations and burns the ropes had made on your wrists. He glanced up at you but you kept your gaze on your injuries. “They’re not as bad as I thought they’d be but they should still be cleaned.” He reached over to his bag and pulled out a first aid kit. You watched in confusion as he proceeded to clean your wounds and then bandage them with great care. If you didn’t know any better, you would almost think the old Jason, the Jason who’d come into the coffee shop you worked at every summer day to flirt with you until you agreed to a date, was starting to show through. But you did know better, and you knew that he was a far better actor than you’d ever given him credit for. 

When he was done, he tenderly rubbed a thumb over one of the bandages. “There,” he murmured. This time, when he lifted his eyes to yours, you didn’t avoid his gaze. You tried to see the man you once knew who had actually held you as you cried when your divorced parents’ bickering and dramatics ruined your 18th birthday dinner; you had already been nervous-yet-excited beforehand because you were announcing that you and Jason were going to travel to Europe for two weeks. You’d always wanted to go, but it seemed to be only a dream — one that was out of your reach until Jason surprised you with two tickets to London as a birthday gift. The trip ended up being canceled later anyway because Jason suddenly had to fly to Paris on an urgent business matter for his mother, something that she was going to pay him for. He needed the money since his father had cut him off and he was starting at CKU in the fall. You’d offered to go with him, but he said he wouldn’t have any time for sightseeing, promising he’d call you often and bring you back some French souvenirs, swearing he’d pick out the best spots for you two to return to at a later date. He’d kissed you goodbye and gave you that brilliant smile of his, waving as he moved further into the airport. He ended up staying in Paris for weeks and when he came back, he seemed distant and a little busier, but you chalked it up to him starting classes and his new job right away. Now, obviously, you knew that that wasn’t the case, but as you stared into his jade-colored eyes, you didn’t see a trace of the Jason you’d met before that trip to Paris. He had never really existed, had he?

The real Jason, the one you’d come to know now, cupped your chin and studied your face from all angles. “We’ve been so busy running that I haven’t really had a chance to look you over. Did they hurt you?”

“Not physically.”

Jason’s eyes snapped to yours. “What does that—”

You got to your feet, the action knocking his hand away, and you moved towards the table he’d left the gun on. You stopped right before it and stared down at the weapon, almost as if it was mocking you by being there. 

“Y/N.” You heard the familiar soft call of your voice and you briefly closed your eyes. If only you had never met him… Gentle hands landed on your shoulders and turned you around to face him, seeing the cold aloofness from before had all but vanished. “I need you to tell me. What did they—”

You decided you were done holding back. You’d been through hell the past few days, you were exhausted and depleted of any energy or motivation for anything else, and who knew how long you had? “You never really loved me, did you?”

His eyes widened. “What? Of course I love you, Y/N. I’m here, aren’t I? I went and got you out of there. I—”

“I wouldn’t have been there if it wasn’t for you.”

Jason’s face fell, appearing as if you’d slapped him, and then his expression hardened. “What did my mother say to you?”

Your gaze remained on him. “She told me everything.” You watched as that realization played over his features and his jaw tightened. “So, yeah, I know about the stones, you and Lana…” His eyes appeared to be slightly glassy (or maybe it was the lighting from the lamp behind you) as he cocked his head a little, looking at you, yet he didn’t even try to deny it. How could he? It was nothing but the truth, and worse, his mother had been the one to tell you that truth; how was that for irony? “When you canceled our trip, when you didn’t want me to go to Paris with you, how distracted you were when you came back, how busy you were — it really explains everything, doesn’t it?” His gaze softened slightly and he briefly hung his head. “I was just too stupid to see it.”

His head snapped up. “No,” he insisted, laying a hand on your cheek. “You weren’t stupid. I was. I should have let you go the moment I met Lana in Paris.”

Even though you thought your heart couldn’t break any more than it already had these past three days, it turned out you were wrong. Your eyes began to sting as tears built up in the corners. While you already knew of his two-timing, you didn’t think he’d come right out and just say it, and in such a blase manner to boot. And how easily you would have been tossed aside, as if you’d meant nothing…that hurt.

A hurt that mirrored your own flickered across his face as he gently cupped yours. “But I didn’t want to.”

“Why?” You choked out.

“Because you mean the world to me,” he murmured, placing his forehead against yours. “Because you’re what I want and I was too selfish to give you up.” He ran his nose along yours just like he used to and you involuntarily shivered. “I love you, Y/N. Always have.” His eyes dropped to your lips and when he leaned in, you pulled away and stepped closer to the table. 

“No, you don’t. If you did, you never would have put me in danger or let me become mixed up in all of this while you pursued one of my best friends behind my back. You would have just left me alone in that coffee shop,” you gritted out, a tear slipping down your cheek that you quickly wiped away. “What was the point of it all, Jason? Was I just some distraction for you that you could drop at a moment’s notice when your mother called? And Lana,” You scoffed and wiped away another tear. “It would be one thing if you actually loved her, but you’re just using her to get the stones. You’re doing the same thing to her that you did to me. You used both of us! And for what? Some ancient stones that your mother believes are supposed to give her some sort of power? So that you make Mommy Dearest happy and can go back into the unhealthy Teague fold? What’s the motivation here?”

He swallowed compulsively as you laid bare his transgressions, yet his eyes never left your face. “I never used you.”

You huffed out a laugh of disbelief. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

His jaw tensed but he stayed silent.

You slowly nodded and after a moment, your eyes trailed to the gun on the table between you. “So when do you use that on me? When your mother tells you to, or when you’re finally done with me?”

You heard a tiny choked sound and you glanced up to find Jason staring at you in horror. He rushed over to you, causing you to stiffen, and he gripped your face as he searched your eyes. “I would never hurt you!” Too late on that count. He watched as another tear rolled down your cheek and his expression softened. “Y/N, I need you to listen to me,” he entreated softly, wiping away the tear with his thumb. “You were never supposed to know about any of this. I kept you at a distance when I came back because I didn’t want you becoming mixed up in this. My mother, she promised she’d leave you alone if I just…” He took a deep breath to compose himself. “I’ve done things I’m not proud of. I never wanted you to see this side of me. Ever. My plan was just to get her what she wanted, this last thing, and then I’d be free to come back here, be with you, and start over, live my life, but…” He shook his head. “I guess that’s all a moot point now, isn’t it?” A tiny smile played upon his lips, devoid of any mirth, as he let you go and turned his back to you, running a hand down his face.

You glanced once more at the gun, wondering if you should try to grab it but you weren’t sure if you were fast enough. And if you did get the gun, what then? Would you really be able to use it against him, to pull the trigger?

“If you want to walk out that door, I won’t stop you.” Your gaze snapped up to Jason’s back. “Just promise me you’ll take it with you.” You briefly flicked your eyes to the gun once more. “It’s fully loaded. And there’s plenty of cash in the bag. Take it all with you, run as far as you can until you can get safe, stay off the grid, and I’ll do everything I can to keep her from going after you. I’ll distract her with the stones, lie and say I killed you so she’s satisfied, whatever it takes.” 

Your eyes widened at his words. Run? You didn’t know how to run or stay off the grid. Maybe you’d seen something like it in a movie once, but that was fiction, not reality. Did he really think Genevieve Teague would believe his lie about you? Granted, he was good at lying as you now knew but he wouldn’t be able to fool her. Unless she was right in what she had told you, that you never really mattered to Jason in the first place, so it wasn’t too far-fetched for her to believe that you’d be so easily disposed of without a second thought by her son. “And how long is that supposed to buy me, Jason?” 

“There’s enough money in there for you to start over, to get a new life. You could go anywhere in the world you want. Canada, Cape Town, Tokyo, England.” At that, your eyes burned once more but you huffed out a breath of disbelief. “Anywhere you want to go.”

“And my parents?” You bit out. “My life? Graduating high school at the very least?”

“You making it out of this alive is more important than any of that.” Jason let out a sad sigh. “It’s my fault you’re in this now, that you’re in danger, but I promise I never wanted this for you. I never wanted to hurt you. I’m sorry, I really am.” He turned his head slightly back towards you. “I do love you, Y/N. I always have. I hope you believe me when I tell you that I always wanted to come back and have things be like the way they used to be. I miss those days more than you know,” he ended in a whisper.

“You can’t go back,” you whispered back.

You saw his shoulders drop slightly and he nodded. “I know.” His tone sounded defeated. “And that’s why you should go. But before you do, I need you to know one thing.” 

You waited for him to say whatever he was planning on saying.

“You were never a distraction. That trip to Europe we were planning, those nights under the stars, everything we talked about, us…that was the real deal.”

Your lip wobbled and you bit down into it, trying to keep the tears at bay as a memory resurfaced of you and Jason lying on the hood of his car under the clear night sky. He showed you where all of the constellations were (initially, you only knew where the Big and Little Dippers were), and you’d both spoken about each of your dreams for your lives. After you’d excitedly pointed out a shooting star, he’d told you to close your eyes and make a wish. You did and that was when he kissed you for the first time. He’d breathlessly asked you about your wish afterwards and you’d smiled right at him, saying it came true. He’d given you that bright smile of his in return and leaned in to kiss you again, murmuring, “Mine too.”

Another memory shook loose of a night you’d stayed with him. He had been staying at a local B&B over the summer before his trip to Paris. When you two began to get serious, you’d taken to spending more time with him there, even sneaking out a time or two to stay the night unbeknownst to your parents. Nothing ever happened between you during that time but he would hold you and you both would laugh and talk and just enjoy being together. One such night, you’d fallen asleep but you had a nightmare. Someone was chasing you and you were running for your life. You ran into Jason telling him that you both needed to run, but he didn’t seem to understand the danger you both were in. He seemed distracted and looking elsewhere, not at you or where you were pointing. It wasn’t long until this unidentifiable assailant caught up to you and at the last second, Jason stepped in front of you, telling you to run right before he was killed in front of you. You’d woken with a loud gasp, your scream caught in your throat, and shot right up in bed. 

Jason had immediately awoken and was trying to calm you down, to get you to breathe as he tenderly rubbed your back, and he kept telling you it was just a nightmare. You didn’t tell him what the dream entailed but you’d thrown your arms around his neck and held him close as he attempted to comfort you. Eventually, he’d laid you both back down, his hand gently running through your hair as you kept your head on his chest, your ear positioned perfectly over his beating heart to reassure yourself. 

“It was just a dream, sweetheart,” he had hummed against your forehead. “I’m right here and you’re okay.” Hearing his soothing words and heartbeat, feeling the tender caresses of his hand up and down your back, you did start to drift back off, hoping against hope the nightmare didn’t continue. You weren’t sure how you’d endure a world without Jason in it, even just a dream world. Just before you’d fallen back into slumber, you’d heard him murmur sleepily to you, “Sleep. I’ll keep you safe.” You’d smiled and whispered that you loved him which caused him to smile as well and whisper the sentiment back to you. And he had — kept you safe, that is.   

And now here you were, considering taking the gun and running for your life like you had in that nightmare, though this time was real and you would now also be running from his mother, from him. How had things gone so terribly wrong in only a few months’ time? 

Another tear slipped down your cheek but this time, you didn’t wipe it away. “It was for me, too,” you admitted in a whisper.

Jason slowly turned back to you and you could see a recent tear track on his own cheek. “This was never supposed to happen,” he said softly. He drifted towards you and perhaps you were so caught up in memories that you didn’t back away or even tense up. Instead, when he laid a hand against your cheek, you leaned into it. Despite everything he’d said and done, despite how much he hurt you and your life had become a casualty due to his choices in his mother’s obsessive quest for a particular set of artifacts, your heart still yearned for him. When he moved even closer, leaning in to kiss you, you welcomed it. When more memories began to wash over you, of everything you had lost and would lose, you threw your arms around him and kissed him more passionately, tears rolling down your cheeks. Gone were the plans of you attending CKU with him; gone were the plans of you two moving in together, spending the holidays with your family, and traveling abroad to see all of the places you both wanted to see; gone was the future Jason had talked about wanting to have with you eventually down the road — all of it was just gone in a single moment of Genevieve Teague revealing who her son really was and just how much control she had over him. You supposed you hadn’t really had time to properly mourn the end of those dreams, of your relationship, everything you believed it had been — it only made sense to kiss it goodbye. Literally.

When you both broke apart for air, he laid his forehead against yours and closed his eyes. “I don’t want to let you go,” he whispered.

“Then don’t.”

His eyes snapped open in surprise. Truthfully, your words surprised even you. He lifted his head and looked down at you, his brows furrowing and his face lining with a mix of suspicion and confusion. Still, his green gaze lit with a dim gleam of hope. 

“You don’t have to be this person anymore. You can give it all up and walk away. You said yourself that there’s more than enough money in that bag to start over somewhere new.” He went to say something when you framed his face with your hands, gazing up at him as earnestly as you could. “So do it. Make a different choice.”

He stared into your eyes. “Y/N,” he murmured. “I don’t know if I—”

His cell phone began to ring on the table, near the gun. You both turned to glance at it before turning back to each other. You silently pleaded with him to do as you’d suggested. He had made it sound so easy, that you could walk out that door and start all over — if it was that easy, why couldn’t he do the same? Your heart sank when he gently removed your hands from his face and began to move towards the table.

You swallowed the lump that had lodged itself in your throat and though your eyes burned with new tears, they didn’t fall. He watched you as he approached the ringing phone and picked it up in his hand. You felt numb as you took a step forward and picked up the bag, slinging it over your shoulder. It was clear that he wasn’t going to make a different choice, and it was clear that you were also screwed and needed to run like he’d told you. If his mother was calling him, then that meant she already knew he had helped you escape and she could be on her way right this second, or worse, right outside the door. You picked up the gun and you hated how it felt in your hands. It was heavy, sure, but also light enough that you could easily lift it and fit your finger inside the trigger handle at a moment’s notice. You’d never shot a gun before so you probably wouldn’t hit whatever or whoever you targeted, but at least you’d be able to wield it to an extent.

The next thing you knew, Jason hurled the ringing phone at the wall, making you jump as it loudly cracked into two pieces.

You turned wide eyes on him but he quickly approached you, his jaw clenched. For a moment, you wondered if you’d actually have to try to use the weapon in your hand to try to defend yourself, though you didn’t know if you had it in you to hurt him. Sure, you’d fight to survive, but your traitorous heart still loved him. Luckily, you were spared from having to make that decision when he snatched it out of your hand (which did make you a bit nervous at first) and cupped your face, his green eyes staring into yours, that slight hope from earlier now a blazing inferno mixed with determination. “A different choice,” he whispered, almost as if he was sounding out the words for the first time. After a moment, he gave you a slow nod, put the gun away, and leaned in to brush his lips against yours. “Let’s do it.”

“Really? You’re sure?” You breathed, your heart starting to lighten inside your chest.

A tender smile stretched across his face and he kissed you again. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Yeah, I’m sure.” He kissed you one more time and took your hand, leading you to the door.

You stopped in your tracks, though, when a thought hit you. “My parents…”

“Let me get us out of here and we’ll decide what to do about letting them know you’re okay without tipping off my mother.”

You nodded, still beyond surprised that he had actually listened to you considering how tightly his mother seemed to have control over him. “Jason, are you really sure? Won’t your mother be even more upset if you leave and don’t help her with the stones? And what about Lana? I don’t want her to get—”

He laid a gentle finger on your lips and kissed your nose. “Like I said, let me get us out of here first. We’ll handle everything else after. Okay?” At your nod, he smiled again, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “If you could go anywhere in the world today, where would you go?”

You nearly smiled at the familiar question — it was similar to the one he’d once asked you, beaming right before he’d pulled out the two tickets to London from behind his back, making your eyes widen and you practically squeal with glee before launching yourself at him and pressing kisses all over his face, making him laugh. You could see his eyes soften slightly as you realized he was reliving the same memory.

This time, you gave it some thought before answering, “Iceland.”

“Iceland?” He asked, sounding pleasantly surprised. 

You nodded. “It’s supposed to be beautiful there. I’ve seen pictures and I’ve always wanted to go. Plus, it never gets fully dark there.”

He tenderly stroked your chin with his thumb. “And we could see the Northern lights when it does,” he murmured.

“We’d never be fully in the dark, there’d always be light.” You pressed your lips together and stared up at him meaningfully. “I like the sound of that.”

He ran his hand gently over your hair and his affectionate smile grew as he nodded. “Then Iceland it is.”

[your-highnessmarvel]

cotton candy | s. riley

Pairing: Simon Riley aka Ghost x Original female character

Warnings: Rated M for Mature. Violence. Gore. Eventual smut. Language. Mentions of abuse. Ghost being Ghost. Dub-con. 

Chapter Summary: In the dark of an abandoned building, Ghost comes across the most delicious site of all. A prey. 

A/N: Here I am, coming out of my cave after almost what, two years of absence to write some fanfiction about a masked assassin who would probably kill me in an instant if he had the choice. But hey, we gotta do what we gotta do!

This is one part of an ongoing series. SLOW BURN. Yes, this is just plot so i can get to smut, but i’m a sucker for slow burns.

DUB-CON topics and scenes in upcoming chapters. I must TRIGGER WARN everyone that this story is loosely based on the events of COD, but will NOT follow campaign. AGAIN, DUB-CON topics and themes in this story, so if that is not your thing, please DNI. 

Masterlist

Taglist: Open

Will be posting on AO3. 

Chapter one

Bangkok - June 16th, 2022. Operation Prince.

Ghost knew the trap he laid was one even Laswell would congratulate him for. It was meticulous. It was cunning. 

Adjusting his mask so that it didn’t block his line of sight, Ghost settled into the far corner of the building, crouched, his back against the cement wall. An echo of a bird taking flight travelled through the abandoned floors, where dust collected at the soldier’s feet, his boots imprinting in the soot. 

He’d had to wait before. He’d spent hours, days, weeks holed up in the tiniest of places for recon. This - this little trap set for no other than an annoyance  - was nothing to him.

He watched the bag, the one he was instructed not to touch but to surveil. His eyes scanned the building, methodical and practiced. Hunting was fun.

Inside the bag was an amalgamation of Thai currency, lethal drugs, and two ingots of pure, cold gold. Some Chilean drug lord, that taskforce 141 had followed all the way here, had hidden this bag in this building, niched deep within a Bangkok village. Only Alvarez’s crew would come pick this up, and that’s when Ghost would pull from the shadows and take only one of them alive. 

His favorite sport had always been interrogation, especially when he’d been handed a blank card. 

The sun had cooked the walls of this building to dust, and as the rays began to deepen into bruise-like purples and blues, Ghost morphed into the moniker he loved so much. 

Somewhere, someone laughed.

It started as a phantom echo, brushing against the shell of Ghost’s ear. A rumble followed, rolling up the walls. Someone was here. 

Ghost tactfully pulled a knife from his ankle, silently making his way to the door. He was hidden by the gathering shadows, a lone figure no one would pay attention to. His breath was quiet as he settled, crouched, ready to pounce as the door slowly opened. 

The second he was ready to spring forward, every muscle in his body screamed at him to pull away, to revert to the shadows.

A young girl, no older than mid-twenties, sauntered in. For a split second, she turned to see who came behind her, and Ghost caught a glimpse of her smile. Crawling across her face was nothing but innocence, a youth that clung to those who were just that - young and dumb. 

She wore black trousers and a black tank top, and the heat of the day had turned her skin to a buzzing, shining hue. 

Ghost gripped his weapon, turning the knife in his palm. In the shadows, the setting sun, this girl was just absolutely gorgeous. Midnight hair, loosely curled, dripping down her back like tar. Ghost was hypnotized. 

He spiraled back into his thoughts the moment another young man and two others walked in, both male and female. They were four total, two females and two males. 

Americans. 

How? he thought. 

He slunk back into the shadows, calculating, skipping through one tactic and another. 

“So where is this thing?” one of the girls asked, the dirty blonde one. Ghost’s eyes scanned from one American to the other. 

The tall, brown-haired boy shrugged. “I bet this is it,” he said, pointing to the bag. 

The girl with the midnight hair stood beside it, hip jutted out, arms crossed over her chest. “So this is what that weird dude from the club asked us to pick up for him?” 

Brown-haired boy pushed her aside. “Only I get to touch, Laura,” he growled, and his tone of voice, the way he put his hands on her shoulders and shoved her, made Ghost want to rip his throat out. 

The girl - Laura - threw her hands in the air, brows furrowed. “Then why did you even ask us to come, Ben?”

Ben chuckled. “He asked me to do it, right?” He turned to face the other two, who were just standing there, eyes wide, frozen in half fear and awe as Ben opened the bag. “And I’m going to bring that back to him.”

The second after Laura let out an exasperated sigh, a loud shot echoed furiously across the room, Ben’s head snapping back, blood spraying gloriously across the dust. As his body flew back, Laura screamed, backing away, watching as her friend went limp on the ground. 

Ghost’s instincts kicked in, dropping the knife and gripping his assault rifle, bringing the visor up to his eye. But there was no one else, and as the girl scrambled for her friend, another shot clipped the air and the other girl crumbled dead to the floor. 

“Ghost!” It was Soap. “Shots! What’s your ETA?”

But Ghost didn’t answer. As soon as he saw the body of the other boy snap back, blood dripping from a hole in his head, Ghost sprang forward. 

He was like lightning, scrambling across the small expanse of dust and wooden floorboards, wrapping an arm around Laura’s waist and sending both him and her sprawling to the floor. 

She weighed as much as a bag of flour, and when she hit the ground below him, the air was sucked from her lungs, a scream lodged somewhere between her ribs. 

Methodically, acting on pure instinct, Ghost hooked an arm under her shoulder, dragging her away from the windows. A clear shot ripped the air, nipping his ear. Blood was copper on his tongue, acid in his nose. 

Laura thrashed, trying to wiggle herself out of his grip. In the light of the setting sun, he saw her face, contorted in fear, glistening with tears. 

“I’ve got an American civilian with me!” Ghost yelled into comms. “No sign of Alvarez!”

Another shot sliced the air, lodging into the wall next to his shoulder, pieces of drywall falling in chunks. 

Laura screamed. Ghost hauled her into a corner, crouching down in front of her. She tried to scrambled further, back pressed against the wall. The soldier reached out, grasped her face in his hand, and pulled her eyes to his. “I’m not here to hurt you!” he shouted, shaking her by the jaw. Her mouth was agape, hiccupping, her big brown eyes shot wide open. She was assessing his mask, drinking in the sight of his gear, his helmet, his arm stretched out to grasp her face. 

She didn’t say anything, but she nodded, and let him pull her to her feet. 

“Soap,” the solider drawled into comms. “Sniper. North end of the building. Can you root him out?”

“Sure thing, L.T,” Soap answered. 

He shuffled the girl down the stairs, holding her by the bicep in a bruising grip. She followed silently, trying to keep up with his long strides. Ghost was so much taller than her, dwarfing her arm in his hand, basically dragging her along the walls. Avoiding the windows. Keeping their heads down. 

Right before the door to the back alleys was visible, Ghost rounded on the girl, crowding her to the wall. 

She breathed in hard, chest heaving, skin of her neck stretching along a gulp. Ghost didn’t care. He had a job to do.

He forced her against the wall, one hand beside her head, the other pushing her shoulder into the cement. She looked up, and something sharp glided in her eyes. With the darkening night, Ghost couldn’t tell what it was. It snapped across her features like a bolt of lightning. And so soon, it was gone, only her big doe eyes staring up at him in fear. 

“Who sent you here?” he asked.

She swallowed again, and Ghost had to fight the urge to press his thumb across her windpipe. 

“Some guy we met at a bar,” she whispered, fear lacing her tone, drowning out her eyes as a few lone tears fell on her cheeks. “He said to come here, to this place, that we just had to pick up a bag. Ben was going to do it. He said he’d get a cut from what was in it.” She was starting to panic, her voice quivering. 

Ghost used his hand to jerk her chin, guiding her eyes to his. She was quivering in his grasp, one hand bracing against his belly, the other curled against her chest. “Who sent you?” the soldier asked again. 

“This guy from the bar!” she reiterated, but this time her voice wavered on a sob, and Ghost believed her. He’d get the rest out of her later. Now, he had to get them both out, alive. 

“Soap. How copy?” 

There was a crackle. And then shots. “Ghost!” Across comms, a few gun shots. Across the vacant expanse of the building, echoes of bullets spraying against cement. “They’re everywhere! It was a trap!”

“Get out of there, now, Sergeant!” Ghost ordered, grasping the brunette in another vice-like grip, hauling her behind him. He crouched down, dragging her with him. He turned on his heel, examining the street as he slowly opened the door. 

A vacant, darkening alley offered no hidden shadows, no lingering mafia, no lone stranger with a gun waiting to kill them both for whatever was in that bag. 

He turned back to Laura, putting a big wolf hand over her head. “Keep your head down.”

She sniffled, obeying him. 

But as soon as they stepped out into the alley, the girl bolted. Ghost turned, half expecting her to shoot him, half expecting someone else to come for his throat. But all he saw was her retreating form, absolutely gunning it for the next alley. 

“The civvy!” he called into comms. “She’s running.”

“Get after her, Lieutenant.” That was Laswell, clear and crisp in his ear. “If she’s telling the truth, she’s the only one who’s seen Alvarez’s face.”

Ghost groaned, slinging his weapon at his back, and took off after the midnight-haired girl. 

She’d made quiet the ruckus as she bolted through the alleys, knocking back tin cans, accidentally kicking crates, and making a few lone souls shout in surprise. Ghost followed the trail, but she was fast. She was tiny, but she had managed to put enough distance between her and him that Ghost feared he could lose her in the maze of Bangkok alleys. 

But she was a lost little American girl, far from home, who’d just witnessed her friends being shot to death before her very eyes. She’d start to panic eventually.

He caught up to her, Northeast, seeing her form skid across gravel and bolt down another street. She was breathless, Ghost could almost hear her panting, but she kept going, pumping her arms, her shoes kicking up rocks and dirt. 

Ghost groaned every time she made a last minute dip n turn into a new alley. “Laswell,” he called. “I need to ambush her!”

“Take that alley coming on your left,” she answered right away. “If she continues straight, once you take the next right, you’ll run right into her.”

And like magic, Ghost wrapped his arms around her entire form, wrenching a god-awful cry from her lips as he tackled her to the ground. Rocks and dirt scratched at his face, but he slithered her little body underneath him, trapping her under his thighs, both her wrists in one of his hands. 

She was crying, hair mussed from running and the dirt he’d thrown her in. Her neck was badly scratched, bleeding from her fall. Her shoulder was dripping red as well, and when Ghost shook her, she cried out. 

“Stop it!” he commanded. 

“Let me go!” She bucked her hips, but the soldier weighed so much more than her that all it did was cause her to cry even harder. 

“Why did you run?” Ghost asked, leaning down so that the edge of his balaclava brushed her nose. They were so close, her hot, heavy breath fanning his eyes. He could see every fleck on her skin, the waterline of her endless black eyes, and the way her eyelashes stuck together from the salt of her tears. “Why!” He shook her, and she cursed loudly, opening her mouth, clamping her teeth on his wrist. 

It stung. She had a mean, mean bite, and when she tasted blood, she did the one thing any cornered prey would do. She smacked her elbow right between his legs. 

Ghost was used to pain. He’d lived it countless times, endless hours, spiraling down every form of torment possible to mankind. He’d inflicted it to himself, he’d seen it done to others, some he loved, some he didn’t. He’d felt every needle, every knife, every bullet wound possible for him to still be standing. 

But God damn, getting elbowed in the balls was some type of pain. 

The initial bolt of pain snapping across his spine loosened his grip, instinct guiding his hands to shield his crotch. He leaned forward slightly, and Laura used that advantage to wiggle from under him, muttering something that sounded French, and then staggered to her feet. 

Ghost struggled to get to his feet, and by the time he was fully standing, his balls throbbing harshly, he was back to running after that damned girl. 

“Ghost, please tell me she didn’t do what I think she did,” Laswell drawled. 

“You’re God damn right, she did!” he yelled, chasing Laura to a building door, which she wrenched open and disappeared inside. 

“She’s a civvy, just be careful,” Laswell muttered. “But by all means, apprehend her.”

“Copy,” Ghost grumbled, following the girl, slamming the door shut. “Going dark,” he mumbled, sliding on his night vision. 

From then on, it was easy to spot her. It was night, all their shenanigans through the streets had wasted enough daylight, and Laura had made the dumbest decision ever. She was crouching by the far wall, eyes wide open, blindly searching the darkness. Her hands goaded on the floor, feeling but not seeing. 

Ghost slid across the empty room, taking the night vision off at the same time that he grabbed her bicep, hauled her up, and slammed her hard against the wall. 

“Easy, L.T,” he heard Soap’s drawl in his ear. He must have heard either Laura’s sob or the force of her body meeting the cement. 

“Stop running,” Ghost growled. “Or this is going to get so much worse for you, love.”

“You’re wearing a skull mask,” she whined, hiccupping on a sob. “Of course I’m going to run!” She tried to kick him, so he slid his hand under her knee, lifted it, and sent her tumbling down to the ground. 

“I’m just trying to help you,” he breathed out. “But now you’re just being difficult.” He bent down and retrieved her, sliding a hand around her belly and pressing her back against the length of his chest. The top of her head knocked against his collar bone, and Ghost sneered despite his aching testicles. 

“I’m just scared,” she mumbled, pressing one of her hands against his gloved digits, trying to pry his hand from its spot on her belly button. 

“Are you going to behave?” he asked. 

She was heaving, chest rising hard, her breath echoing sharply in the air. And deep down, under the instinct and the decades of trauma and training, Ghost registered the way her body fit against his. Niched against his chest, despite his tactical vest and the millions of things hanging from him, she pressed against all the right places. 

“I don’t wanna die,” she mumbled, falling limp against him, giving up.

Ghost sighed, clenching his teeth. “You won’t if you stay with me, now come on.”

He grabbed her bicep again, ignoring the look she threw up at him, and hauled her once again behind him. “Leaving the premises,” he mumbled into comms. “Laswell, get me out of here.”

“Copy Lieutenant.” There was a pause. “Evac site is eight clicks north.”

Ghost tightened his grip on Laura’s arm. “Copy.”

[thoughtslikeaminefield]

From Wikipedia: Flash fiction is a fictional work of extreme brevity that still offers character and plot development. Identified varieties, many of them defined by word count, include the six-word story; the 280-character story (also known as "twitterature"); the "dribble" (also known as the "minisaga," 50 words); the "drabble" (also known as "microfiction," 100 words); "sudden fiction" (750 words); "flash fiction"; and "microstory".

The way I do my flashfic is to take a prompt that inspires me and type until I'm done. Most recent examples are here, here, and here.

Here's one that started as a flashfic but is now on my list of WIPs lol.

I need some fresh prompts to keep my brain limber while I finish my existing WIPS:

28 Days - (epilogue) AU Dean Winchester goes to rehab

Combat Baby - (epilogue) canon-divergent Dean x Jo

If We Make It Through December - (epilogue) post-Chuck, there was no rebar Dean x Donna

Leaving Heaven - (Part Two - 6 chapters) canon divergent/AU S10 with an original female character

Unopened At Your Feet - (1 chap + epilogue) - AU Winchester love triangle

Black Tie Optional - (2 chaps) canon-compliant Dean x Vanessa, follow up to Plus One

Libertine - (4 chaps) Soldier Boy dreaming in containment

Here's my master list so you can take a browse to see if I've already written what you have in mind.

Hit me up with anything you'd like to see me tackle. I may not talk about the fandom, but I still may be inspired by your prompt.

Got any ideas?