#silverfox!au

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Stranger at the Door 20

Warnings: this fic will include dark content including rape/noncon, predatory behaviour, just on the border of stepdad fic (this is a one time exception because this dynamic isn’t really for me but you know, brain makes no sense), mentions of mental health, bullying, isolation, bad parenting, age gap, allusions to self harm, violence. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re nineteen and life is standing still, that is until your mother meets her dream man, then everything changes. (innocent!reader)

Characters: Loki (silverfox)

Note: As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Donkey love Waffles. Take care. 💖

You can't move. You don't want to. Moving means this is real. Moving means you have to open your eyes.

So you lay as Loki's left you, cold, hollow. You hear him in the front room of the suite, he's made several phone calls. A business trip for him but nothing of the like for you. 

You shiver and clamp your eyes tight. You can still feel him inside of you. The intense pain of his intrusion, the tingle still in your thighs, the ache in your pelvis. You smell like him. You can't stand it.

His pacing stops. The silence pricks your ears but you won't break your tableau. His footsteps come again, this time quickly into the room.

"I know you're awake," he snaps without pretense.

You don't react. If you do, he might want to do it again.

"Open your eyes," he stomps over to you. You refuse to obey and he shakes you by the shoulder, hard enough that you bite your tongue, "now."

You fall onto your back. Don't look. If you don't look, it's not real.

He clears his throat as his shadow retreats from over you, "'Hi princess, did you think about my offer? Here's some photos.'"

You frown as confusion furrows your brows. What is he talking about? He's quiet, waiting.

You open your eyes at last and look at him. He holds your phone, the beaten up case with only a few sparkles of glitter left, a terse expression across his sharp features. You push yourself to sit up, the chemise crumpled around your middle and the thong crooked on your hips. You hug your legs and rest your chin on your knee.

"Why do you have that?" You ask dumbly.

"Better yet, why are you messaging my brother?" He retorts, "hm?"

"Your brother? How–" you blink, "I haven't. I swear, I didn't give him my number. I don't know how–"

"And the other night he was in your room overly long," he scowls, "I'm most certain it amounted to nothing but you entertain his hopes."

"You know–"

"I know everything that goes on under my roof, should I say under my nose," he sneers, "so it is best you think before you lie to me."

"I didn't lie. I don't know why he's messaging me," you murmur, trying to think of how he could get your number 

"And this offer? What exactly was it?" Loki prompts, "he sends photos of his house, I can surmise you spoke of relocation. With him? You know he would throw you out like a used rag."

"I never said yes," you utter, "please, don't be mad."

He shoves the phone towards you and you cower. You cross your arms before your face and wince, waiting. Nothing happens. You peek at him through slitted lids.

"What are you doing?"

"Don't hit me, please." You beg, "I'll be good, promise. I've been good."

"I’m not going to hit you," he scoffs, "you want to be good, you take this and tell my brother you're not interested."

You stare at the phone and take it. Your hands tremble as you steady it and look at the conversation; several pictures of a beach house and the surrounding landscape. You sniffle and start to type.

"You know I wouldn't hit you, don't you, precious?" Loki asks.

You try to focus on what to say. No might do but you suspect Loki wants more than that. Your fingers sweat around the plastic case.

"My mom…" you say, "I thought–"

"Your mother gives it as good as she gets, never you worry," he hisses, "but she is good for appearances; she is what is acceptable, a woman of my… generation."

You nod, unsure how to answer. Your mother doesn't deserve any of that, even if he says she's just as bad. She can be mean but she's not violent.

You thumb in your meagre refusal and shrug. Loki takes the phone before you can hit send. He reads your words, ‘thank you, Thor, but I can't. I have to stay with my mum.’ He tisks and pushes his thumb down, "it'll do, I suppose. Very… you."

You pull up the straps of the chemise and wince at the pain deep inside. You breathe slowly and move carefully to the edge of the bed. Loki watches and you meet his eye, afraid of what glimmers in them.

"Loki," you quaver his name as his hand casually rests on the belt of the hotel robe.

"Precious?" He arches his brows.

"Can I take a bath, please?"

He considers as his cheek twitches. He almost looks amused.

"Ask me again," he smirks.

"Please, can I take a bath?" You appease him as you run your hand over your thigh and cringe at the tenderness.

"Say my name again, precious. Please." He demands.

"Loki, can I–"

"You may," he interrupts, "I will join you. The bath is big enough for two."

"Oh, uh," you hang your head, your hope of a respite lost. "Alright," you accept.

"Why don't you go get it all ready?" He purrs, "I shall be but a moment."

You stand and wobble on your feet as he moves closer. You tense as he frames your chin and turns you to him, bending to kiss you, soft but diligent. You let him, afraid to anger him with any sign of reluctance.

He lets you go and you stiffly walk away, peeking into the bathroom before stepping onto the white tile. You can't help but marvel at the immaculate porcelain and marble, a large window casting the evening hue across the space. You turn on the light and a vibrant white glow permeates the room.

You tiptoe to the large square tub and bend to turn on the faucet, testing the water with your fingers until you find the best temperature. You pull the slender lever for the stopper and stand straight. The water ripples into the basin as steam roils into the air. 

You look down at yourself and peel away the lace. You feel brittle, ripe to shatter, as you step unsteadily out of the satin thong. You groan as your thighs meet again, you can feel the bruises where his fingertips kneaded them, and along your hips, chest, shoulders; all over. 

You go to the counter as your eyes wander. There's a small case there marked with the hotel logo. You open it, a set of nail tools. You take out the small scissors and open them, holding them up to the light. You press your fingertip along the blade and your vision focuses on the reflection of yourself in the mirror. 

You close the scissors and slip them back into the kit. You push it away from you and exhale the dark urge. Anything you did, he would see. He'd already seen enough. How he had touched the scars himself…

You go back to the tub and climb in, easing down into the water as it rose around you. The heat is soothing but cannot reach all that aches. There are some things you know will never be as they were before.

Loki breaks through the thin serenity as he enters. You bend your legs and hug them as he swiftly unknots the belt of his robe. You look away as he opens it and drapes it from a hook on the door. His shadow looms before he steps into the tub.

He nears you and urges you away from the wall of the tub. He lowers himself behind you and draws you back against him. His length twitches along your back at the proximity. You sit rigidly as his touch scalds you.

"You must relax, precious," he coos as grips your shoulders, letting his long legs sprawl around you, "enjoy our getaway while it lasts."

The last of your strength evaporates, not that you had much to begin with. You think of your mother and her glass of wine. Maybe that was your fault too. She drank because you drove her to it, just like you drove your father to…

"Something the matter, precious?" Loki kneads your muscles. Despite your disgust with yourself and him, it feels wonderful. Just to be touched.

"What about…" you can't even say it.

"Marlena?" He uses her name, "I'll have to marry her now, to keep you close but she will be content with all that I give her. Precious, there is a side of her I think she has hidden from you for a long time and only now is she letting it through. You can see how toxic she is, can't you?"

Is she? Or is it him? She wasn't like this before him.

"Do you know about the other men? Before me?" He keeps your mind from reeling too far.

"Other men?" You lean back unthinkingly as he rubs your sides.

"Oh, yes, before me and even at the start of seeing each other she dated quite a number of suitors. One discovered us on a date and made certain to inform me of our shared interest. Well, I spoke wit Marlena and she swore that it was only me," he cups your chest and kisses the crown of your head, "I wish that had been true."

"What?" You heart beats, you're certain he can feel it.

"I could show you all the messages I've found, recount the calls I've overheard, but I couldn't expose you to that. She's done a poor enough job raising you as it is," he teases your nipples as he reclines and pushes his legs beneath you, laying below as he floats your body above his. "Can't you see, I want to take care of you? I would've never proposed if I hadn't seen the dire need you live in, precious. That you need someone like me."

You don't know if it's the heat making your head spin or him. His hand crawls down your stomach, exploring the soft flesh. 

"But… aren't you– we–" your eyes burn, "just as bad?"

"If I could have you at the altar, I would but in my profession, that wouldn't reflect well upon me, you are too young, rather I am too old. "

You swallow. He speaks as if he loves you, though your understanding of love is paltry. You know, or think, that you don't love him. You fear him. Right? 

"It only feels wrong because the world tells us it is," his hand slips along your pelvis and tickles the curly hair, "you feel it's wrong because you believe them but… doesn't it feel good?"

He rubs your bud firmly and you moan. You grasp his wrist as your toes curl. Your heart beats even louder in your ears. 

"It can't be wrong if we both get off, can it?"

📼

You lay awake. Loki's beside you. You're not used to the idea of someone on the same bed. Worse, you can't sleep knowing your mother's fiance is right there.

It's been hours. For a while, you envied his sleep, his carelessness, better deemed callousness. Then despair haunted you again and left you in a puddle of self-pity.

You relent and get up, cautious not to disturb him. You tiptoe through the dark, the short cotton nightie brushing your thighs. You take the other robe from the hook on the door and creep out.

You go to the small kitchen off the left side of the hallway. You flip on the clear kettle and search among the colourful variety of tea bags in the drawer. You keep the water from whistling and brew a cup.

You take it into the front room and pull the chain on the tall floor lamp. You put the cup down and grab your backpack to unpack your computer. You sit at the desk, the chair uncomfortable and stiff, and slide out a textbook. You may as well catch up while you can.

It's hard to read through the glaze of tears that rises over and over. You make yourself swipe them away and jot down notes in your ragged notebook. This is your only way out now. There is no running away, no you have to wait, build yourself something to escape to.

Or maybe, like everything else, it will all pass you by and leave you wallowing. Trapped in your own misery and under the thumb of another.

You quaver out a breath as you sniff and take a sip of tea. You peer over at the balcony and the quiet dusk of the city. 

Maybe you could still message Thor and tell him yes. He might not be any different than Loki, not deep down, but you wouldn't be betraying your own mother. Not so deeply.

You haven't seen your phone since Loki took it. You frown. That beach house looked nice and now it doesn't matter as much. It wouldn't hurt that bad and Thor can be nice, nicer than Loki. He smiles and helps you. He doesn't expect you to help him.

You could do it. He's not that old. And you're an adult after all. He's kinda cute, his hair isn't as grey as Loki's. You could try to love him. You couldn't ever love Loki and he made it so your mother would never love you if she knew.

"Precious," Loki rasps through his dry throat, frightening you so your pen rolls from your fingers, "you are awake early."

"I'm working on an assignment," you say and open the laptop.

"Why are you doing that?" He comes up behind you and plays with your hair.

"Because… it's almost due," you answer dumbly.

"You can do that at home–"

"This is a work trip, that's what you said," you shrug and try to focus as his fingertips caress your scalp.

"You still believe that lie?" He chuckles, "even Marlena saw through that one."

"What? What do you mean?" You watch the screen as your account signs in.

"Like I said, she has all she ever wanted," he leans in and kisses your head, "and she is willing to pay the price."

You blink as the desktop loads. You grimace and scoff, "I don't understand–"

"You do," he insists, "do I really need to spell it out?"

"I don't…. She wouldn't," you click on the browser and shift forward in the chair, "I know her. She's my mom."

"She's human," he pulls you back roughly, "and greedy and selfish. What kind of mother lets her daughter travel alone with a man? A man she's known merely months?"

"No, no, you're lying," you try to shove his hands away. He grabs yours and twists them behind you.

"She only made me promise to wear the condom," he says.

You still and stare at the front page of your browser. You let your arms go limp and he drops them. You stand clumsily, grasping the back of the chair as you turn and stumble.

"Precious?" He watches you smugly.

"I…" you peek up at him and cover your mouth. 

You clamp your lips shut and across the room as your stomach revolts. You stagger into the half-bath attached to the front of the suite and fall to your knees as you retch.

You want to scream that he's a liar, but all you can do is hug the toilet. It all makes sense. All of it. There's no other explanation for your mom, her drinking, her denials. There's only the truth and the bile on your tongue.

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #thor #dark thor #dark!thor #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #stranger at the door #marvel #mcu #au #avengers #silverfox au #silverfox!au

[darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor]

wallflower masterlist

Summary: Your mother meets a new man, but he doesn’t seem very interested in her. (Thor)

Status: Finished

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

Part 16

Part 17

Part 18

Part 19

Part 20

Part 21

Part 22

Part 23

Part 24

Part 25

Part 26

Part 27

Part 28

Part 29

Part 30

Part 31

Part 32

Part 33

Part 34

Part 35

Part 36

Part 37

Part 38

Part 39

Part 40

Part 41

Part 42

Part 43

Part 44/Ending 1

Part 44/Ending 2

#thor #dark thor #dark!thor #thor x reader #drabble #drabble series #silverfox au #silverfox!thor #mcu #marvel #avengers

[cloudofbutterflies92]

I just think about making in the Fallout AU silver fox!Ghost since there is a 16 age difference between them 😌 ( she is 28 and he has 44)

#silver fox Ghost for the presidential 😌 #x: children of the war #pairing: ghost & eden #oc: eden park #call of duty oc #cod oc #call of duty #original character #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #simon riley #cod au #cod/fallout au #call of duty au #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty modern warfare #silverfox!ghost #cod fanfic

[imaginedreamwrite]

Brave New World: Part 12

A/N: Trigger warnings for mentions of misogyny, sexism towards women, forceful confinement

It was the sharp cry that pierced the dark wing that had initially woken you up. It was a sharp and startling sound that broke you from your slumber, drawing you upright in your bed with a sudden jolt.

Immediately, you reached for the sides of your bed and curled your fingers in the sheets as a method to ground yourself. To hold yourself to the thin and old mattress, one with springs that were poking through your equally thin nightgown.

You have recently been thrown into a new yet seemingly endless, hellish environment. The move from a private room to the shared room was necessary to make space for another influx of omegas who had been brought to the facility.

Through the thin walls of the shared women’s ward you were thrown into, it was glaringly obvious that some pregnant omegas, used as surrogates and breeding machines, had given birth early.

There was an urgency to give birth before the due date, a necessity to try to save both mother and child from a fate that was unfair for both of them, however, the child would fare much better than she would.

“Shut up! Shut up!” One of the other omegas on this crowded floor raised her voice harshly, caring neither for the other woman in another room nor the consequences that would come to the poor mother.

You reacted quickly and threw the blankets off you, stumbling and falling to your hand and knees due to the process of them administering more drugs to your body. As your knees and hands had banged against the creaky wood, another sharp cry had been heard through the walls of this place.

Your weariness had made you crawl, initially, and as you traversed your way to the next rows of beds, that same woman screamed again, thrashing against the holds that kept her in place.

You could see her struggling, the latest douse of serum altering her brain chemistry and inducing temporary psychosis. Despite her aggression toward the mother and child in the birthing unit, you wished the other omega luck on getting past this debilitation. You knew full well that if she hadn’t recovered from this aftereffect, she would have been thrown into one of the many pleasure houses and used as a toy.

If she hadn’t recovered, she would be discarded as if she was nothing more than a heat receptacle for alphas.

“Please, you have to be quite. Please, if you don’t they’ll come down on all of us!”

There was a steady thud of her back against the bed as she violently rocked herself back and forth, creating her own despotism hold of her world as she saw it. She was so far in her head and in her madness created by this last bout of the serum, she hadn’t realized that rocking back and forth as violently as she had would create more hell for you all.

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” She screamed three more times before another omega had risen to her feet, stumbling just as you had, and started toward the bed.

With the one omega woman behind dealt with, you felt secure enough to rise to your feet after reaching for one of the rails of the metal bed. Your hands gripped the end of the footboard, and you slowly pushed yourself to stand, your legs and feet aching to the point where it felt like they were burning.

Still, despite the aching in your bones, you pushed yourself further. You took every step cautiously, fearing that at any point one of the guards would come for you, for all of you, to deliver swift punishment. It wasn’t just you that would suffer for being out of bed, rather harsh consequences would come to every omega.

Even those that were sleeping.

“Shut that thing up!” there were hurried whispers in the room that followed an outburst, the direct order coming from the oldest omega in the room and focused on the woman in a mental break. “Shut her up, or we’ll all get it!”

You paid no mind to the order and focused on getting out of the room you were in, to head to the birthing ward. While you had known the door would be locked and access was denied to you and anyone else in the room, you also knew that one of the panels on the left-hand side of the wall was fabricated and easy to remove.

With the thinness of the walls and this falsified covering, you could easily slip from one room to another, and once you’d gotten to the other room you could help the omega who just gave birth. Or at least you could attempt to help, you could attempt to console her and her child, make an effort to extend what little kindness you could while being trapped here.

“I said shut her up!” The oldest omega yelled again, her voice carrying as you removed the panel and began to slip into the crawl space, keeping yourself as small as possible in order to make your way from one room to the other.

A shiver ran up your spine when your feet hit the other panel, the cold metal piercing your skin through the soles of your feet. The sensation was temporary, it had evaporated the moment you kicked the panel loose and managed to pull yourself through, coming into the other room.

You struggled to stand, a shake to your knees and thighs had almost made you tumble back to the floor, your hand already outstretched before you caught yourself.

The newborn was hastily wrapped in a thin blanket, squirming and still squawking with a great set of lungs that would have aided a career in entertainment further down their life. You had heard the omegas in the other room struggling to stop the maddened omega from raising too much of a complaint while this poor woman had just given birth.

Your approach was slow and calculated. You didn’t dare try to cause another sound to alert the betas and controlled alphas who ran this facility. You were already on their radar, already someone they wanted to study and watch, an omega who they had wanted to get rid of.

“Please,” she pleaded with you, simpering soft voice almost a wail, “they’ll take my baby. If they hear…”

The chirp of an alarm somewhere else in the facility prickled your skin, your stomach bubbling with unease and caution.

“Shh,” she rocked her child, her eyes wide and her lips parted with every attempt at quieting her child, “please…please-!”

“You’re a breeder,” you already knew she was and yet, it felt as if this reality was just hitting you, “they’re supposed to be coming for you but-”

“— I gave birth early, without medication. Without-”

Your heart nearly leapt from your chest as another bang had resounded somewhere in the building, a ghostly echo of something nefarious happening somewhere else. You stepped closer to her, hands shaking and your eyes growing wide in size, unable to truly think or react to what was going on around you.

Women, omegas, restrained to beds with what had once been softened cuffs but had now become rough, were lining the room from one end to the next. They were laying on nothing more than tufts of stuffing bound in thin canvas, a state that even cattle wouldn’t be permitted to lay on.

“They’ll take my baby, help me.” The omega was whimpering, and it wasn’t until now that you’d realized she was weakened by giving birth.

It hadn’t been until that moment that you’d even been aware that she was bleeding. The tang of copper hits your nose, mixing disgustingly with the smell of mildew and stale dust.

“You’re dying.” You crept closer and sank to your knees beside her bed, your hands curling against the cheap canvas bed. “You don’t have time.”

“Take my baby,” she turned to look at you, eyes losing their light and her breathing becoming shallow, “don’t let them have her. Don’t let her fall to the fate.”

“I can’t, don’t give her to me. I can’t take her. I can’t keep her, I can’t-” you stumbled over your words, fumbling as you tried to speak and make your case for not taking the child, for not taking the baby to be punished.

“Find someone, please promise me-” the babe was pushed into your arms, instincts leading you to cradle the child, and with a purpose thrust upon you, you rose to your feet and balanced tenderly.

“Thank you, Y/N. You,” the omega heaved, desperately fighting for breath, “you’re my family…my sister-”

Hours bled into days, and days had shifted into the next week.

While your heat had come and gone, while you had been marked and mated, you had never let go of the expectation that you would become pregnant. It was what you had been altered to do, to become a vessel for pups to boost the population that was faltering.

Whether it was this reality or the one you had escaped from, the result was the same. Your body and your DNA, your every genome, was geared toward fertility and pregnancy.

Even now, you could feel it.

Even now, only a week after you had been marked and mated, you knew your body was flush with life. You had narily placed your hand upon your belly, still unaffected by your growing child, and knew you were expecting.

If it hadn’t been the nesting you had done when you expressed your anxiety about being a mother, to the empathy of your mates, then this would have been every indication that it had happened.

Your stomach turned once, just once, and your sense of smell had increased with the changes in your body, and you knew. It was obvious, it was painstakingly clear that you were now doing what they had always intended you to do, only now it was by your choice.

Now, you have the decision to keep the child while in a safe and loving environment.

It’s the soft rapping on the door that audibly announces their presence on the other side of the door, but it’s hardly the first indicator that they were going to find you. With your new heightened senses, already increased from the serum before you were pregnant, you already knew.

It was their scent that carried, it was the sounds they made as they walked around and throughout the cabin. It was the soft mumbling of Bucky as he reiterated his annoyance and temporarily forgetting where he put things, and Steve whispering to himself as he sketched or painted.

You could hear it all; you could smell every shifting difference in the cabin.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Steve was the first to speak, the first to come and sit beside you.

You had negated to look at him immediately. Instead, you curled tighter on the outdoor chaise, tucking the blanket you took up and under your feet. You pressed yourself against the back of the lounger before you tucked your chin into your chest, and then you spoke.

“I’ve been thinking. A lot.” You spoke to them, addressing Steve verbally, and Bucky physically.

“Are you okay?” Steve was on your right, Bucky was on your left, both had been figuratively shielding you from a nonexistent threat. “Omega-“

“I’m pregnant.” Stagnant silence, unwavering quietude and the bubbling intensifying gleam of hopefulness and want had clashed in the middle, as if two beasts had represented the two sides of an emotional state of mind, with teeth and claws.

“Y/N,” Bucky crept in, a smile bursting on his face with eyes wide and vibrantly pulsing, “omega…this is everything we’ve ever wanted, this…”

Their happiness was unbounded. Their dreams of becoming fathers and having an omega was finally and wholly a completed reality. Puzzle pieces that hadn’t been set had finally clicked into place, with everything they’d wished and longed for becoming theirs.

There was a short time between you three wherein Bucky and Steve had let their raw emotions out to air, their happiness and loving statements settling upon you like the warmth of the sun and the soft breeze of summer.

It was further removing the corrupted chill you felt had been running through your veins, extinguishing the final clutch the organization, that wanted to make you a possession, had on you.

With Steve and Bucky, you were freed. Your baby was safe, your baby would grow up happy and healthy in a world that cherished it.

And you.

“I want this, I’ve decided. I want this baby, but…” you bit down on your bottom lip, teeth digging into your flesh while your eyes had become instructed by fat tears. “You may want to get that.”

The phone rang clear through your ears, a sharp yet melodic chime breaking the conversation, and you waited with bated breath as Steve walked to his phone and picked up the call, eyes locked on you.

“Cap,” Sam’s voice hit your ears, and you knew, “we need you back here.”

#silverfox!alpha!Stucky x omega!reader #alpha!silverfox!steve rogers x omega!reader #alpha!silverfox!steve rogers #alpha!silverfox!Stucky x omega!Reader #silverfox!alpha!Steve Rogers #alpha!silverfox!Bucky Barnes #silverfox!alpha!Bucky Barnes x omega!Reader x silverfox!alpha!Steve Rogers #brave new World Series #brave new world #brave new world part 12 #brave new world masterlist #a/b/o #alpha/beta/omega #au #trigger warning #mysoginy trigger warning #sexism trigger warning

[inkedaztec]

Getting notes together for NaNoWriMo and knowing I'm gonna try to write 50k words in a month is always so daunting.

Don't forget to send asks if you want to! If I'm able to I'll make a drabble/short. You can find what I write here

#bucky barnes x reader #ari levinson x reader #biker au #curtis x reader #nanowrimo #nanowriting #jefferson x reader #SilverFox Au #stucky x reader

[agentmarcuspike]

"a minute from home"

biker!Joel x f!reader no outbreak au

cw: creepy date, reckless driving, tommy kinda cockblocks, soft joel, idk a/n: this was just a thought i had when i saw a silverfox with a motorbike and was too shy to ask if i could go for a ride with him, so i wrote this instead. kinda juvenile but you love it wordcount: 3k

The chill air of the evening brushes your skin as you push open the door from the restaurant. You’ve been swallowing the lump in your throat all evening, but the second you reach the parking lot outside you can’t hold back anymore, and a sob escapes your throat as you heave for air.

Through watery eyes, the city lights become a blurry haze. You get a glimpse of a gang of bikers outside the diner down the street as you look around to see if Colin has followed you outside. You don’t have time to assess before he grabs your arm and pulls you towards him.

“Where are you going?” His voice is harsh, demanding. “I paid for your meal and you’re just gonna run off? You think I’m some kind of charity or something?” 

He stands too close, looking down at you, holding onto your arm hard enough to leave a bruise. 

“Everything alright here?” A dark voice suddenly booms from behind you. It’s one of the men from the small group of bikers. 

“Yeah, mind your business,” your date replies, pulling you towards him.

“Wasn’t talkin’ to you,” the leather clad man says as he steps towards you both. He’s looking at you, trying to meet your teary gaze as you whisper a “yes”. 

“What’s that?” He asks again, hands on his hips. He’s bigger than Colin, and while he could probably take him out, he could take you out too, and you’re not sure who you’d rather be alone with: your terrible date or a strange man with a motorcycle. 

But something about his presence, the way he’s looking at you, makes you feel safe. 

“I just wanna go home…” you muster in a low voice. 

“Alright. And is this guy gonna take you home?” 

Colin is still holding onto your arm, but his grip is loosening now. Both men are looking at you, waiting, while you’re looking at the ground, not able to form a single word even though your body is screaming resistance. 

But then you lift your gaze to what you hope is your rescuer, and you don’t have to say anything for him to read between the lines. The answer is “no”.

“Right,” the man says, and takes a step towards the other guy. He’s holding a hand out, carefully nudging at him. “Why don’t you run off, mister, leave the lady alone.” 

He refuses to move, but lets go of your arm and staggers a little as the biker’s hand pushes him. 

“She’s literally my date, dude. Why don’t you run off.” His voice is nowhere near as confident as when he was alone with you, and the pitch a little higher, but it might just be compared to the other’s heavy bass of a voice. 

“I don’t think so, man.” The biker moves seamlessly in between you and your date, and you’re suddenly hidden behind his broad back.

You look behind you, and see that the rest of the bikers are paying attention, and they all look ready to pounce if anything escalates. 

Colin takes a few steps backwards, trying to get a look at you, but failing as the broad man moves to block his view. When he still doesn’t back off, the broad man takes a step towards him, and Colin finally steps back.

“Do you even know this guy?!” 

Colin’s talking to you now, backing away. When he gets no response, you hear him huff, and his footsteps disappear. It’s a few more seconds before the man turns to face you. 

He takes a step back, giving you space, and you finally get a good look at his face.

Dark eyes are boring into you, seemingly looking for any signs of injury. His lips are plush for a man his age, the streaks of gray in his hair giving him away as at least 50, but the scars across his crooked nose and his temple could be making him look older. 

Salt and pepper stubble give him a rugged look, which paired with the leather jacket and biker boots would have been too much, but the concern in his eyes softens him up just enough to not be scary.

“You okay?” he asks, eyes still on yours. You nod in response.

“Gonna need some verbal confirmation, sweetheart.” 

You clear your throat, not realizing until now how dry your mouth is, and give him a weak “yes”. He nods back at you, looking back to his gang. 

“Alright,” he begins. “I understand you not wantin’ to go off with a strange man right now which you shouldn’t normally, but my friend Maria and her husband Tommy are right over there, and I’d like to ask Al at the diner to fix you up with something to drink.”

 The words still don’t come to you, and you just stare at him.

“Somethin’ sugary, for the shock.” And then he adds: “A nod’ll do here.”

And you do. You nod, and he gestures to the diner behind you, which you walk towards together. He makes sure to keep a distance, walking next to you instead of behind so you can see him in your periphery at all times. 

The woman, Maria, stretches a hand out to you, and you take it.

“You alright, honey?” You nod for what feels like the tenth time in a minute. She gives you a warm smile, and the mustachioed man, which must be her husband, smiles as well. 

Maria caresses your arm as he points to the man who saved you. “That’s Joel.”

Joel gives you an affirming nod as he leans over to the other man, whom Maria tells you is Tommy. He leans in and whispers something in his ear, and Tommy heads inside the diner.

The woman’s hand on your arm calms you down, and it seems she can sense it.

“You’re safe here, sweetie. You’re safe with us.” 

Your eyes meet hers and she's smiling warmly. She’s probably right, and you do feel safe, but you’re still a little shaken up. Colin had paid for your meal, but you’d been too uncomfortable the whole time to eat much, and your low blood sugar is starting to make you a little dizzy. 

As if on cue, Tommy emerges from the diner carrying a cup with a straw and a paper bag. He holds them out to you. You look at him quizzically, and reach your hands out to grab the items from him. He nods, and goes back to stand next to Joel, who is leaning on his motorbike, arms and ankles crossed in front of him.

You’re left clueless for a second, looking from the cup to the bag, before Maria takes the cup from you so you can open the bag. The bag is warm and greasy, and peering into it you smell the french fries before you see them. Suddenly nothing has ever seemed more appetizing than greasy deep fried potato wedges, and you shove a handful of them into your mouth at the same time, washing them down with a big gulp from the cup Maria hands back to you, which turns out to be filled with strawberry milkshake. 

The relief is immediate, and you take a deep breath as you let the much needed calories reach your system. When you look to your liberator to thank him, he’s looking down at his boots, kicking at a crack in the asphalt. So instead you look to Tommy, who is already looking at you, smiling the same warm smile as before, and you breathe out a “thanks” between eager gulps. He nods, and looks down just like the man next to him. 

Joel clears his throat, and you take it as your sign to get out of their hair. 

“Thank you,” you repeat, as you crumple the top of the paper bag in one hand and wipe the other on your skirt. “For this and…” you lift your drink and nod towards the parking lot where you were rescued earlier. “That.”

“Yeah,” Joel says, finally looking up for you, lifting the corners of his mouth slightly. “‘course.” 

Your eyes lock. For a moment it feels as if he’s looking straight through you, and you really believe that standing up for you was no big deal to him.

The silence is broken as Tommy claps his hands together. “So!” he says, looking between the two of you, landing on you, rubbing his hands together. “Let’s get you home.”

You’re taken aback, you didn’t expect them to do you any more favors. “Oh that’s okay, I can get myself home! You guys have already done enough for me tonight.” 

“How?” Joel’s question is accusatory. 

“How what?”

“How’re you gettin’ yourself home?”

“The… bus?” You try, worried there’s a wrong answer. There is, and you just gave it.

He shakes his head. “No way.”

“Yeah,” Tommy adds. “We’ll take you home. We’re just riding around anyway, it’s no big deal.” He turns to Joel. “You’ve got Sarah’s helmet, right?” 

Joel gives a singular nod. “Shouldn't be walking alone this time a’night anyway,” he says, more to himself, as he fiddles with the extra helmet strapped to the backrest of his bike. 

As you watch his competent fingers loosen the strap and put down the extra pair of footrests, you catch yourself wondering if Sarah is the woman waiting for him at home, and why she isn’t riding with him. Maybe she’s too scared. Unlike you, because you’re not scared, you unconvincingly lie to yourself.

Pushing the nerves aside, another feeling interrupts your thoughts, and you can suddenly see Joel up against a wall with you, where the warmth of his electric touch sends shivers down your spine. His proficient fingers exploring every inch of you–

Shaking off the idea, you down the last of your milkshake, throw the cup into a nearby bin, and walk up to Joel and his big gray motorbike. 

Maria jumps effortlessly onto the back of Tommy’s, where he’s already sat. Joel holds out the helmet to you, and you grab it cautiously as he goes to put on his own. Sensing your insecurity, he puts it down again and takes yours back from you. He shoves it under his arm as he delicately brushes your hair behind your ears. 

“Got a hair tie or something?” he murmurs. “Gets windy.” 

You nod, taking the scrunchie off your wrist and pulling your hair together to put it into a ponytail, but Joel shakes his head, and indicates with his finger for you to turn around.

Gathering your hair in his hands, he divides it neatly into three sections and starts braiding them loosely together. His fingers in your hair makes the images return, and you catch yourself wishing he would pull it. But he’s careful and soft as he finishes, quickly caressing  the top of your head to smooth the hairs down, and he reaches his hand over your shoulder for you to place the hair tie in his palm. 

After securing the braid, he taps your shoulder to make you turn back to him, and he carefully pushes the helmet onto your head, making sure not to pinch your skin as he fastens the buckle under your chin. 

“Ever rode on one of these before?” he says as he squeezes your shoulder and turns to put his own helmet on. You shake your head. You’ve never really been interested in trying either, the only experience you have with motorbikes coming from rolling your eyes when someone revs one up and down your street too late at night. 

He reaches his hand out to you, and gently holds it while you throw your leg across the seat, helping your feet find the footrests. Then he seats himself in front of you, and he’s suddenly between your legs. “You just slide down a bit,” he urges you, and reaches behind him to softly guide your arms around his waist. “And hold on tight.”

“Where to?” Tommy yells from behind you. You tell him which part of town you live in, and Joel nods once before he kicks the kickstand and turns one of the handles causing the motorcycle to roar to life. It’s the same sound you’ve spent nights complaining about, but this time it’s different.

The roar of the motor makes the seat shake under you, and you automatically close your legs together around Joel. Feeling your thighs clench around his own, he stretches out a hand behind him again to give your knee a quick comforting squeeze.

The bike stutters slowly forwards, Joel using his feet to move it. It’s vibrating violently between your legs, and you suddenly become very aware of the jeans covering Joel’s hips rubbing against the skin of your inner thighs.

As you glide out on the road, the vibrations from the grumbling motor move through your body to your head, and you feel like you’ve just been hit by a nicotine rush. Except it’s not nicotine, it’s adrenaline rushing through you where you’re sitting on a motorcycle with a stranger, in the middle of traffic with no seatbelts or doors or walls to protect you. Only Sarah’s helmet.

Your hands clench around the soft leather of Joel’s jacket, and you shut your eyes tightly. The visor protects your face from the wind, but you can still feel your eyes water, and you’re not sure why. When you turn your head to the side and finally look, you’re met with a blur. You must be going at least 75 miles per hour, not even on a highway, and the speed makes it impossible for your eyes to focus on anything you drive past.

Even though it’s summer, the wind is freezing at this speed, and the skin on your legs and hands feels frozen. For a second you regret not wearing tights or anything, but why would you, you’d shaved your legs today, and wasn’t exactly expecting this to happen.

You’re not sure why you trust this man, but you do, so you let yourself relax a little bit, trying to enjoy the feeling of flying down the road with him. Without loosening your grip around Joel’s waist, you lean back a little so you can see more.

To your surprise you’re almost home already, and you’re almost disappointed when the motorcycle slows down and turns onto your street. You let one of your hands move to your driver’s arm and tap it lightly to let him know he’s at the right house.

He swerves into your driveway, Tommy following close behind. Maria is off before you’ve even managed to move your hands from Joel’s waist. He pulls out the kickstand with his foot, and Maria grabs your hand when the bike tilts slightly. Joel gets off before you, and takes your other hand. You hadn’t realized how hard you’d been clenching every single muscle in your body, and you wobble as you manage to get off.

"Careful, honey," Joel murmurs quickly as he steadies you. His hand must be just as cold as yours, maybe colder, because it feels almost warm in yours. He doesn’t seem to mind, though, his eyes fixed on you, giving you the same look as earlier, looking for signs of damage.

Tommy walks up and puts a hand on Maria’s shoulder, and she grabs it casually.

"Alright," he almost yells, interrupting your little moment, and you both look up. "You feelin’ okay?"

You nod. You are. "Thank you," you say to all of them, Maria and Tommy nod and smile politely, and your eyes land on Joel, who is looking around. He sniffs quickly, running a hand over his stubble and clears his throat, before he meets your eyes. "Thank you," you repeat, and you think he understand you don’t just mean for getting you home.

"Yeah," he replies, shyly. "I’ll, uhm…" He gives Tommy a quick glance, who responds with taking Maria with him back to their bike. "I’ll walk you in. F’you want."

The silence is thick with expectation as you walk together the few steps to your front door, and your hands shake as you struggle to unlock it. Joel comes to the rescue for the third time that night, saving you from your date, getting you home, and now having to help you get into your own house. You give him a grateful but embarrassed smile as his turns the key in the lock without any struggle, but he just pushes the door open for you without any judgement.

Leaning on the doorway you try to decide on how to end the night, and it must be the adrenaline still in your veins that causes you to say what you say.

"Do you wanna… come inside? For a drink, or something?"

Joel shifts his weight from one leg to the other, and you swear you see a subtle smile before he speaks.

"I’m drivin’."

You almost roll your eyes at your own stupidity. Of course he’s driving, he just drove you home.

"Right," you grimace, and he chuckles back at you, which you only hear, because your eyes are fixed on your doormat, embarrassed.

"But, uhm…" he continues unexpectedly, and you look up at him.

"F’you ever need a ride…" He shrugs. "Or anythin’. You know where to find me."

You nod before your mind catches up. "Wait, where?"

"Al’s diner," he clarifies, another grin making a quick appearance on his face. "Right," you chuckle again. "The diner."

Something suddenly startles you both, and you realize it’s Tommy starting the motorbike. He revs the motor to get Joel’s attention, who turns to look, and takes a few steps backwards.

"Like I said," he says as he turns to leave. "If you need anything…"

You watch his broad form make his way back down your driveway towards the big motorcycle. Your stomach makes a jump as he straddles it, and right before he pulls his helmet down over his head you swear you see him wink at you.

#joel miller fanfic #joel miller fluff #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou au #the last of us fanfiction #adrenaline junkie joel miller #tommy miller fanfiction #i mean he's in it..... #have no idea how to tag #my writing

[shadeysprings]

Beanie's Lucky 7 Sleepover

Come one, come all, and join in celebrating this beautiful milestone with me with a writing challenge! Woot! Woot!

But before we get the party started, here are a few guidelines to consider;

🪩 You must be 18+ to join. Minors, please stay away.

🪩 Main concept of the event is to write a fic that is limited to 7 paragraphs only—no more, no less. But you can go crazy with the number of words. There is also no limit to how many works you want submit.

🪩 This is open to all genres but dark is preferred.

🪩 All tropes/AUs are allowed EXCEPT the following: underage, incest, bestiality, water sports, and scat.

🪩 Fandoms/Characters you can write for: MARVEL, Game of Thrones, Samuel Drake, Tommy Miller, Sebastian Stan, Pedro Pascal, Chris Evans, and Tom Hiddleston Characters. No RPFs, please. Though if you're unsure of a character, you can ask me through my DMs.

🪩 Reader inserts only.

🪩 Entries must be new and original. But if you really want to make it part of an existing fic you have, make sure that it can stand alone.

🪩 A list of tropes will be provided to help you kickstart your story. It is not mandatory though for you to use them.

🪩 I reserve the right to not read or interact with your work if it makes me feel uncomfortable or failed to follow the rules. Your work must be tagged accordingly as well.

🪩 Please use the tag #Beanie's Lucky 7 Sleepover when posting your work and tag me in it. If I haven't reblogged your work after some time, shoot me a message.

🪩 There is no deadline for this sleepover but the start date will be on the 7th of August.

🪩 Any questions that you may have, my DMs are open.

Tropes:

Meet Cute

Fake Relationship

Friends to Lovers / Enemies to Lovers

Soulmates

Only one bed

Auction

Roommates

FWB

Sugar Daddy

Boss/Employee Relationship

Professor/Student Relationship

DILF / Silverfox

Ex-Lovers

NPT : @mochie85 @lokiandbuckysdoll @sarahscribbles @imyourbratzdoll @targaryenvampireslayer @flordeamatista @navybrat817 @sgt-seabass @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @honeystevie @iraot @ironlady1993 @slyyywriting @cockslutpadalecki @buckets-and-trees @loopsisloops @fictive-sl0th @cocoamoonmalfoy @late-to-the-party-81

#Beanie's Lucky 7 Sleepover #writing challenge

[sunshinebuckybarnes]

Another month, another rec list! Please make sure you give these gorgeous stories and writers the love they deserve. As always, you are responsible for your own media consumption. This blog along with the majority tagged are 18+ only and contain adult themes.

Happy reading 💐

Bucky Barnes ✨

Lay me down by @navybrat817

Vampire Mob!Bucky Barnes x Gifted!Female Reader

Pinot noir by @cryptidcasanova

Detective!Bucky x Reader

Awake my soul by @foreverindreamlandd

Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Bring your wife to work day by @sidepartskinnyjeans

Bucky x Reader 'Sugar'

Hunger by @navybrat817

Bucky Barnes x female reader

Tension by @bucky-barnes-diaries

CollegeProfessor!Bucky x Student!Female!Reader

What's cookin' good lookin' by @slyyywriting

Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Ari Levinson ✨

Shallow(s) by @late-to-the-party-81

Beach Lifeguard Ari x Beach Lifeguard Reader

Sleepy hollow by @onsunnyside

Stalker!Ari Levinson x reader (College AU)

Feels so right by @geminixevans-stan

Mechanic!Ari Levinson x Female Reader

Eddie Munson ✨

Not the type by @quinnsbower

eddie munson x fem!reader

Just a reminder by @jobean12-blog

Eddie Munson x reader

Red light at the bowling alley by @chaseadrian

eddie munson x f!reader

Start me up by @jobean12-blog

Eddie Munson x reader (Mechanic AU)

Dealers choice by @ohcaptains

eddie munson x female! reader

Steve Rogers ✨

Overstimulation by @sidepartskinnyjeans

Steve Rogers x Agent!Reader

Ethereal by @oh-my-damn

TWS!Steve Rogers x neighbor!reader

The unexpected valentine by @cockslutpadalecki

SilverFox!CEO!Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Andy Barber ✨

Preliminary by @navybrat817

Sugar Daddy!Andy Barber x Female Reader

Sweet heartache by @oh-my-damn

DA!Andy Barber x Intern!Reader

Steve Harrington ✨

It's nights like these by @supernovafics

steve harrington x fem!reader

Multiple characters ✨

Private party by @late-to-the-party-81

Steve x Reader (established), Bucky x Reader x Sam

The perfect life by @sweater-daddiesdumbdork

Dark!Steve x You x Dark!Bucky

A price to pay by @navybrat817

Mob!Steve Rogers x Female Reader, Ransom Drysdale x Female Reader

#february fic recs #fic rec #bucky barnes #eddie munson #ari levinson #steve rogers #andy barber #steve harrington #sm wilson #ransom drysdale

[fandomfluffandfuck]

i feel like i havent been reading enough omegaverse lately so ive been imagining an au of your au where alpha silverfox!steve and younger beta!bucky doms this big beefy alpha and makes him cry 🥴 just the thought of steve's knot in a cockring and being told not to cum gives me the vapors whew!!! being told to cum on command instead, knowing how painful that would be without a hole to unload in... *coughs* uh yeah so that's my Thot of the day :)

I feel you! I haven't been reading enough fanfiction, in general, but especially not enough omegaverse lately.

I absolutely have to recommend to you, if you haven't read it, this series on AO3:

"Breaking Tradition" by AndreaDTX

It's literally what you're describing minus the age difference (sadly).

God.

I really, really would love to read (or write, when I have time, lmao) something where Steve is this big, hulking alpha who's aging, going grey, and he just fucking aches to get out of the typical rhythm of relationships so he seeks out a younger partner, knowing there's less stigma against changing power dynamics with younger omegas. At first, it's just overwhelmingly good sex but we know Steve and Bucky, of course, they fall in love. There's too much chemistry.

Also, I would love to add this layer of shame or embarrassment to Alpha Steve. He's always had needs for his omega to be pushier, but he's never known how to voice it--it's so, so untraditional and unexpected--so it's easier to just get it from a stranger. Yet... this stranger, this bossy, brunette omega, is so fucking alluring and he takes power so well, Steve has to keep coming back to him 😮‍💨😮‍💨

Jesus Christ, thank you for that thought, though 🥴🥴

#asks #fic rec #bucky barnes #steve rogers #stucky #omegaverse #alpha steve #omega bucky

[peachypede]

All this silverfox Ingo and Emmet....what about silverfox! ocs??

So here's an au where Pecha is late thirties, almost forty. Her life went differently that it did in this au. Instead of making her own brand, she worked for her Tita at the restruant for a while before finding her passion as a seamstress. The twins are often her clients, and Ingo has started to gain a crush on her (much to Pecha's obliviousness).

And here's an older ref of her I made:

#oc pecha #old fashion love shipping || Ingo x Pecha #older pecha au #my favorite part of older pecha is the worry lines #very becoming

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Stranger at the Door 18

Warnings: this fic will include dark content including rape/noncon, predatory behaviour, just on the border of stepdad fic (this is a one time exception because this dynamic isn’t really for me but you know, brain makes no sense), mentions of mental health, bullying, isolation, bad parenting, age gap, allusions to self harm, violence. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re nineteen and life is standing still, that is until your mother meets her dream man, then everything changes. (innocent!reader)

Characters: Loki (silverfox)

Note: As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Donkey love Waffles. Take care. 💖

You’re in a hectic scramble. Textbooks scattered over your bed, room silent and forgotten as all that you see is the font before you. You have an assignment due at midnight and you haven’t even started. You can’t believe you forgot it.

You work on necessity alone, the pressure of failure urging you. Something is better than nothing, right?

You sit among the papers and pages, legs crossed as the gentle tapping on the door barely cracks your focus. You ignore it, thinking it nothing but then it comes again, louder. You sigh and get up, ready to face your mother in another of her drunken rambles. You don’t have time for it right now.

You close your textbook and carry it under your arm as you cross to the door. You inch it open, bracing for the storm, but a squeak of surprise leaves you before you can suppress it. Thor grins at you past the doorframe.

“Oh, hi,” you say, “what’s…”

“Hope I’m not disturbing you,” his deep voice rumbles through you, “I only came to see if you needed help hooking up that converter.”

“Well, I… I’m just doing some homework so…” you let your voice trail off. The silence wasn’t helping much, only letting your anxiety flurry, “if you don’t mind me studying while you get it going, I guess–”

“Sure, it shouldn’t take too long,” he looks down at your textbook then your pajamas decorated with unicorn and old Gap tee, “got a test?”

“Paper,” you answer as you slowly let the door open and step back, “first one of the year.”

You go back to the bed as he steps inside. He gives a long glance around but you’re already searching for your place in the book. You pick up your pen and tap on the pages as you bite your thumb and read.

Thor goes to the TV and you peek up at his broad shoulders as he takes the converter from your shelf of tapes. He tears through the plastic noisily as you try to focus on your assignment. Just a couple of hours to get it all done.

You settle back in your nest of books, laptop and pillows and hunch over. You type between your speed reading and click between the assignment outline and articles. Thor hardly seems to notice you as he fiddles with the TV. He trails the cord down and untangles the red, white, and yellow of the VCR as he clicks the connectors into place.

He turns the TV on with a flicker and hits the power on the VCR, “you don’t mind if I test this out?”

“Sure,” you say carelessly, fingers flitting over the keys.

He takes a tape from your collection and slips it in the slot. He stands back as the whirring of the VCR begins and you glance up as the warning comes up in siren red. He puts his hands on his hips and blows out through his lips as he faces you.

“Well, it’s working,” he declares proudly, “still got the magic touch.”

“Thank you,” you say as you flip through the textbook.

He lingers and you stop. Your mother would say it’s rude to just ignore him. He just did you a favour and you’re just sitting there, reading. 

“I’ll just get going–” he begins.

“Um,” you perk your head up and gulp, “well, you already put a movie in, so… why don’t you, er, watch it with me?”

“Yeah?” he raises his brows hopefully, “you sure?”

“If you’re okay with all this,” you wave at the clutter around you, “there should be enough room.”

“Why not? I got nothing better to do,” he nears and sits on the other side of the bed, the mattress dipping beneath his immense weight. You immediately regret your invitation. Having him just sitting in your bed feels wrong, “I hope you don’t mind this one, I didn’t really think when I chose it.”

You look up at the previews and try to put it to a title. You’ve watched the tapes enough to know them almost by rote.

“Mrs. Doubtfire?” You ask.

“That’s the one.” He chuckles as he leans against the low headboard beside the post and crosses his arms, “you’re good.”

“What kinda skill is that though?” you mumble and look back to your textbook.

“Cherish your memory while you got it,” he kids, “you get to my age and you forget your glasses on your forehead.”

You type a little more and pause, “you wear glasses?”

“When I can find them,” he lets out another peel of laughter.

You nod and allow yourself a smile. You bow your head and pull the laptop closer. You really have to get this done.

He wiggles slightly as he settles into the mattress and hooks one foot over the other. The promos end and the movie begins. You tune most of it out as you work away at putting together sensical sentences. It might be a C+ but you’ll do better on the next one. You’re only drawn from your intent squinting by a knock of wood and a long groan.

You pause and listen. It’s from down the hall, two voices. Embarrassment pricks at your cheeks as you keep typing, pretending you don’t hear. Thor clears his throat and grabs the remote, turning up the TV to drown out your mother’s whining.

“Another thing,” he intones, “your ears start to go.”

You appreciate the lie. He’s good at easing the tension. You send him a smile but don’t say much as only the legal jargon runs through your mind. A few more pages, you can do that before midnight.

📼

Your eyes sting as you yawn and wait for your upload to finish. At last you hit submit and sit up straight, rubbing your lower back. It’s like you broke a trance as the room returns to you. The TV is a bright blue as the tapes run out and there’s a soft rumble from beside you. 

Thor’s head lolls against the wall as he dozes, snorting with every other breath as his chest rises and falls suddenly. You should wake him but you can’t. You hate waking people up. Most of the time, it just makes them mad.

As you ponder what to do, you tidy up your papers and books and stack them with your laptop on the shelf of your nightstand. You stretch and look at the door as you curl and uncurl your fingers. Thor grumbles and hunkers down as his snores get louder.

You grab the remote and turn off the TV then the lamp, casting the room into darkness. You take a pillow from your side and your housecoat from the foot of the bed. You toss down the former and wrap the latter around you before lowering yourself onto the faux fur rug beside the bed. 

You could sleep beside him but it didn’t feel right. You’ve never slept beside anyone, not even your mother. You’re not very good at sleeping as it is. 

You close your eyes and hug yourself and bend your legs, curling up against the draughts swirling from beneath the bed. Your last-minute study session has left your eyelids heavy enough to slip into a shallow sleep, only vaguely aware of the presence above you.

📼

The earth shifts and you open your eyes as vertigo spins your vision. The dark shadow holding you has you crying out. Thor sets you down on the bed and shushes you as he stands in the light of the lamp. He draws his arms out from under you and takes a step back.

“I’m sorry, princess,” he whispers, “I was only moving you off the floor.”

“Oh, uh,” you look down at yourself, still tangled in your robe, “thanks.”

He backs up and takes the pillow, throwing it on the bed beside you, “what were you doing down there?”

“What time is it?” you avoid answering.

“Two, three?” he shrugs, “you could’ve woken me up, princess.”

“I… I’m sorry,” you utter as you sit up.

“Don’t be,” he waves you back down, “go to sleep.”

“I–”

“I need to get some too,” he yawns and edges away, “in my own bed. You have a good night, princess.”

“Night,” you say dumbly, head still thick with sleep.

You watch him go, the door clicking quietly behind him. You reach for the lamp, hoping to cling to the blanket of fatigue still on your lashes. You pause. Your dresser drawer is open, that one you haven’t opened since you arrived. The one where Loki left his… gifts.

You shake your head and turn off the lamp. It’s too late. You roll over and try to forget the drawer and the toys. All that can wait until tomorrow. Or maybe you could just sleep through it all.

📼

Your door swings open so quickly, you don’t have a chance to react. You’re dizzy as you flip onto your back and sit up as your mom tosses a suitcase in the middle of your bed. Your mouth is dry, your tongue sticks to your gums as you try to summon words. You blink at her as she goes to the window and pushes the curtains apart.

“Honeybun,” she chimes as you watch her, “you should start packing. Loki’s waiting.”

“Wha–” you sniff and push the blankets off of you. How is she not hungover? Judging by her bloodshot eyes, she might be.

“We talked,” she smiles, “last night. You really should go with him. It’s good experience.”

“Mum,” you rub your eyes, “I have school–”

“Take your computer with you, it’s only a couple days,” she counters as she opens the suitcase, “it’ll be nice to get out of the house, won’t it?”

“What about you?” you murmur.

“I won’t mind having the house to myself,” she chirps and you frown. What about Thor? “Oh, the brother,” she rolls her eyes, “he’ll be off with his ‘business partners’,” she bends her fingers in quotations, “anyhow.”

“Oh?” you watch her stride to the closet and slide it open. She takes out a handful of the new blouses and carries them to the bed.

“Well, you know it’s all a lie, don’t you?” she says venomously, “he doesn’t have any business in the city. Unless you call sugar babies business. He meets all sorts online since the divorce. You know he’s a nasty man.”

“What?” you sniff, “I don’t–”

“Oh, but you learned your lesson, huh?” she pulls the blouses off the hangers and folds them neatly into the suitcase.

“Mhmm,” you hum, trapped in the dull haze of your awakening.

“It’s why I told Loki he shouldn’t be here, he can afford a hotel, I don’t want any of those women coming back–” she marches to your dresser but you see the open drawer too late. 

She stops short as you stand and cringe. She’s silent as she stares inside and takes out a pair of the skimpy panties. Then she lifts the dildo and scoffs, wordlessly.

“Mum,” you squeal, “please, it’s not–”

“Where on earth did you get these?” she puffs as she drops them back into the dresser.

“Mum,” you near and she recoils.

“Tell me it’s not him,” she snarls, “Thor? You’re still–”

“No!” you gasp, “mum, it has nothing to do with Thor, it’s–”

“You’re an adult, alright? You can… explore,” she tuts, “I just hope you aren’t spending your loan on that–that stuff. And not for him.”

“Mummmmm,” you groan, “I haven’t done anything with Thor, okay? I haven’t.” You slam the drawer shut, “it’s none of your business.”

“None of my business?” she huffs, “you’re living under my roof and–”

“No! It’s Loki’s. It’s not your business because you won’t listen to me!” you snap, “you don’t listen! I don’t want to go with Loki, I don’t want to live with Loki, we were just fine on our own and then you fucked it all up–”

“You don’t talk to me like that,” she raises her voice and steps closer, jabbing her finger towards you, “I am still your mother. You will go on this trip, do you understand me? And be grateful for everything that Loki has given us.”

You gape at her and push her hand away. You shake your head. Not this, again.

“Take your pills, you’re getting yourself worked up,” she hisses.

You stare at her. Her eyes are dull, distant, almost dead. She doesn’t look like your mother. She looks empty.

“You know, don’t you?” you whisper.

“Know what?” she snarls.

“What Loki’s been doing. What he wants to do. To me–”

“Shut up!” she grabs the front of your tee shirt and shakes you, “shut up! You little fucking liar, you shut your mouth.”

“Mum,” you grab her wrists, “what– let go!”

“I know what you’re doing. You’re lying. Trying to ruin everything,” she shoves you away and you hit the dresser, the corner of the drawer jabbing into your back, “you don’t ever want me to be happy. I’m going to marry Loki and we are all going to be a happy family.”

She throws her hands up and spins away, tisking as she grasps her hips.

“Look at all this, I wish I had all this when I was your age. Or ever!” She stomps past the TV and flings your VCR onto the floor, the cords detaching and jolting the TV mounted on the wall, “pack your bags. Now. I need you out of this house.” She marches to the door and pauses, “and when you come back, I expect an apology.”

She leaves as you stand in the aftermath of her carnage. You grip the edge of the drawer and slowly touch the tender spot where you hit your back. Your lip quivered as slowly you moved away from the dresser and neared your VCR. The top came off and the tape was cracked, a wheel loose on the floor. You bend to gather up the ruin.

You hear another door. You drop the pieces and scurry to the door. Not quick enough. Thor meets you there and keeps you from shutting him out.

“You okay, princess?” he asks as he tries to see past you.

“Yup,” you croak as you nod, “I, uh, I’m so clumsy.”

“I heard voices–”

“The TV,” you lie, “I… tripped and knocked over my VCR, is all.”

“Oh, is it broken?” He’s tall enough to see the floor behind you. You inch the door shut as you sidle along with it.

“I can fix it,” you assure him, “sorry for bothering you.”

“You didn’t, princess, maybe I can help–”

“No,” you say curtly, “no, thank you. I’m fine. I… have to pack.”

“Pack?” he wonders.

“Mhmm,” you nod, “going on a trip. Work. So, guess I’ll see ya.”

“Work trip?” his forehead wrinkles, “did you think about my offer?”

“Sorry, I just can’t right now,” your chest sinks as you say the words, “I have so much going on. I– I’m running behind, alright?”

You don’t wait for a response. You shut the door and turn your back to it. You drop your head against the wood and let out a heavy breath. The open suitcase stares back at you. You’ll need something lighter than that.

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #thor #dark thor #dark!thor #series #stranger at the door #au #silverfox!au #silverfox!loki #mcu #marvel avengers

[darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor]

When the Hammer Falls Masterlist

Summary: The old king faces doubts from his jarls and himself. (Thor/Viking AU)

Status: In Progress

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

#thor #dark thor #dark!thor #thor x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #avengers #mcu #marvel #au #viking au #silverfox!thor

[solittles]

Scrambles to your ask box BRIDGLAR. FOR THE SHIP MEME

bridglar is the opposite of a fucked up ship. theyre perfect, amazing gorgeous. married. invented love. love them to bits ! i love em in canon, and in modern aus!! i love henry peglar and his disabled dilf hunting ass who just wants a silverfox to call him baby boy. i love john bridgens and his anxiety about how henry is wasting his youth on him, while in reality, john is exactly the person henry wants to have very kinky sex with, and also get married to and live happily ever after with

#asks

[prpfs]

🫀 Hi! 24 F looking for a Steddie RP, Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson from Stranger things. I don't mind playing as either of them.

The idea is completely inspired by valentines910 on twitter about their silverfox! Steve AU.

Eddie in his late 20s/early 30s is a baby dom that ends up knowing professional switch Steve and it starts there.

Obviously, for this RP NSFW and BDSM themes are included, but I'd also like to develop a plot around it all. Obviously be aware of the kinda big age gap if you don't like it, but they're still both adults.

Please be +20 years old. I always RP on discord and I'd like to have at least two paragraphs or around 200 words. I write in third person and past.

And I think that's all! Interact with the post and I'll contact you!

like if you're interested and op will reach out

#stranger things rp #stranger things roleplay #fandom rp #fandom roleplay #1x1 rp #dead dove #20+ rp

[wardenswateringhole]

Posting this before i pass out and forget tomorrow. I'm about to start making my own notebooks~ I'm excited~

Gonna be working on Shadowed Cross AU content and refining my new style more. I will be asking for ya'll's opinion on something related to the Date with Silverfox Emmet. Keep your eyes peeled for that.

#wardenspeaks #My meds are working better.

[thatcheeseycandle]

//tw for mentions of war, death, breakdowns, fighting, hurt, and Buckle up Buttercup ITS TIME FOR THE FIRST FANFICTION I'LL EVER BE POSTING

Now before reading I'd like to point out the possibility of the characters here being somewhat out-of-character since each bit was written in 10 minutes (IT WAS FOR A SPRINTING BOT DISCORD SESSION OKAY- But I did clean it up a bit by redoing some of the bits) and then to add on I used a wheel to pick what I should do

And the wheel chose "do a story where a side character actually shows emotion for once" so uh would explain why Spencer might might be like half out-of-character

To add on this is basically my take on the whole.. "Irl History affects the plot" thing (also being set in my Candle-lit Railways AU which also explains the humanoid descriptions) so yup, PREPARE FOR WAR-

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

As the candle dimmed down it's light, The shed doors would close with silence filling the air, simply another night to rest then waste all that energy again.

Spencer would let out an exhausted sigh. He knew how devastated Mallard would be once he heard the news  about Gadwall, the more innocent one among the Gresleys, always naive yet a charming one in his own unique way.

Unique enough to get Great Northern, of all people, to soften up to him. It still surprised Spencer til' this moment that he got North to become soft. Though that uniqueness left a gap in reality, a horrible reality, that's now began a world war.

Which was the same exact thing that led to Gadwall's demise. The demise of the only light that was left in darkness. They killed an innocent engine just because of humanity's selfishness.

They killed his brother. His youngest brother.

The Shed doors would open, snapping Spencer out of his thoughts as he looked to who was near the doors. He would see it to be Sir Nigel, in his humanoid form.

He would sigh in relief, maybe Sir Nigel could keep him from his night terrors for just this night. Just for an hour at least.

Sir Nigel would look up to Spencer, sitting on a stool next to him. Simply looking out the shed into the moonlight knowing that Spencer needed some company.

"I miss him too."

Sir Nigel suddenly said in a mournful voice.

"I-.. I miss him more than.. More than anything, honestly."

Spencer replied back, depressingly.

As the two sat there, simply tranquil together, they would mourn in silence. For their brother. Because nothing was louder than their younger brother's joyous aura.

That aura was gone for good.

———

He was in the rain, running as fast as he could towards Top sheds. He knew his crew would say something about Gadwall's death. He can't be held back by his engine form, not now. Even if he wasn't steaming he was able to shift into his humanoid form.

Spencer’s fire kept burning and burning inside his chest as he ran through the rain. Running like someone who was rollerblading, technically he was skating with his wheels.

But he kept running and running. He didn't care if his crew would scold him, he wouldn't care if Sir Nigel Gresley himself would come to scold him after. He needed to save what was left of Mallard's innocence, what was left of his hope.

With World War II currently escalating into more madness, Spencer had to hold onto each bit of hope he could keep or at least save. He had to hold onto Mallard's innocence more, even just for a week or a day he had to hold onto it a little bit longer.

As he got to top sheds, he already felt the atmosphere shift as he caught a glimpse of Quicksilver and Mercury's mournful faces. Silverfox was in Polly's arms, sobbing, grieving as the news sunk into her mind. He knew that his crew told them as well, he already knew by the shift, by the faces.

He would bust open the doors to Mallard's shed, his black silver-lined coat falling to the floor, but he wouldn't bother to pick it up as he saw Mallard's fallen face. Spencer saw the tears slip down Mallard's cheeks more quicker than water pouring into an engine's boiler. It was too late.

Mallard had the news sunken into his mind and Spencer knew that well enough to not take one more step near Mallard, afraid that he'd lose his mind more than he looks like he already has.

He simply stood there, letting Mallard grieve as his crew comforted the glossed-black locomotive as he grieved for his younger sibling. Spencer would take off his hat, in respect of Mallard currently breaking down.

Spencer didn't even need to look back to know that the others were watching Mallard slowly breakdown, he already could vision how Merlin would react to Mallard breaking down this much.

The thoughts inside Spencer's mind would inflict more anxiety through his veins as his breathe became shaky and his chest heavy, though wouldn't even flinch a single bit out of respect for Mallard.

It was a known rule that if you show weakness around someone who's in terrible condition physically or/and mentally, it is a sign of selfishness slipping through your mind.

And Spencer held that rule more higher than his pride, it was the only rule that really stuck to him underneath all his pride and “glory” for some reason. He didn't know that reason.

But he does know that, as of now, he needs to show his respect towards Mallard in his time of grief.

———

The rain would be pouring heavily atop of Top Sheds as the engines rested in their assigned sheds, some of them shivering from the cold while the rest would be sleeping tired of the workload for today. Though some engines wouldn't be either of those.

Silver Fox and Pretty Polly were the only ones awake at the time, Donovan was doing his last runs of the night so technically he counted as awake too. The two would sit in their sheds, which were next to each other. Polly would be looking up at the sky, not trying to guess any constellations, simply grieving silently.

Silver Fox on the other hand was trying to hold back tears from what's happened today, it was devastating seeing Silver King having to get hurt, even worse that Quick Silver started to lash out. She just wanted all this to stop.

She wanted everything to go back to normal, she didn't want to be apart of this war, even if it meant her being in her shed for decades. She never wanted to face all this. She thought frustratingly to herself.

She wouldn't realize until now that she started to have warm tears flow down her eyes onto her cheeks, dripping onto the ground, which would be heard due to the silence that hung over Top sheds.

As she blinked away her tears she would look over to Pretty Polly, who wasn't backed in her shed not caring for the cold, she simply rested outside as her gaze was focused at the sky above.

Silver fox would watch her silently, slowly going forward to get a better glimpse as her. Though Polly would sense her warm aura come near her.

“What do you think of the stars, my dear Fox?”

Polly asked Fox, in a soothing tranquil tone, Silver Fox would flinch a bit at Polly calling out to her, though would go forward a bit going next to Polly. As she got closer she would see tears flowing from Polly's eyes as well, shining in the moonlight as she gazed at the sky above them.

Silver Fox would be surprised at this. Though she couldn't really blame Polly, she thought to herself. With the war going on, and all the deaths that's been happening she must've felt the warmth of each soul disappear by the days passing by, Silver Fox thought as she continued her train of thought.

Finally she'd gaze up to the dark-royal blue sky, with the stars shining like the sparks of fire from an engine's firebox, a new star popping up by a few minutes. Each group of stars forming a shape, a symbol, a constellation.

It's.. It's gorgeous. Silver Fox thought through her grief. Though it didn't feel like the right words to describe the sky somehow, the view felt more than gorgeous. It felt serene yet overwhelming with all the stars in the sky.

Though she'd finally come up with a phrase, that almost, perfectly describes the feelings she has about the sky.

“It makes me feel at home, Ms Polly.”

————————————

YKNOW REREADING THAT IT MADE ME REMEMBER TOO MANY HEADCANONS I HAD FOR THE CANDLE-LIT RAILWAYS AU BEHAHDBXBX BUT YUP IT WAS NICE TO REWRITE THIS PIECE TO IT'S (near) POTENTIAL

SO YUP I'LL JUST POST ANOTHER FANFIC RIGHT WHEN MY BRAIN GETS AN IDEA-

#cheesyversial rants #ttte fanfic #ttte young iron au (??) #technically this is inspired by how the war played out in YIAU but just with my designs BUT YEAH CREDITS TO YIAU- #candlelit storytime #cheesey writes