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that1nerd-20 · 2 days

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I legit read the entire teeth series last night and then topped it off with reading this, this morning. This series is so good and I'm so excited for more!! But all I want to do right now is give Tony a lil bitch slap.🤭🤭🤭😚 Just a tiny one with a brick in my hand.🙃 Oop- did I say that out loud 🤭

Anyway 10000000000/10, def recommend this. I will say I was a lil worried at the beginning that readers name was actually poppy, just from what I could see reading the masterlist but I'm happy to say I know it's just a nickname later on

tooth&claw chapter 2

Read TEETH first to catch up!

t&c masterlist

Previous Chapter

Wc: 3.2k

An: man this took a real long time to get out. I’m so sorrry!

Pairings: Tony Stark x Shifter!reader

Age of Ultron

Warning: canon typical violence, language!, blood, alcohol use, fluff, angst. No y/n used. Nicknames: Poppy/Flowers

"But there wasn't anyone else in the building,” Maria spoke up. You helped her sit, her bare feet littered with broken glass.

Tony had rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt, a few cuts and bruises along his forearms, and a split lip, “Yes there was.” Tony flicks his wrist. The StarkPhone in his hand pops the now-destroyed 3D image of JARVIS' consciousness.

Bruce paces to the holo-image, hands out wide and in disbelief, “This is insane.”

Steve hangs his head in defeat, “JARVIS was the first line of defense. He would've shut Ultron down, it makes sense.”

“No,” Bruce shakes his head, “Ultron could've assimilated Jarvis. This isn't strategy, this is...rage,” and Bruce would know all about rage. You put your hand on his arm, giving a gentle squeeze.

Thor suddenly barges in the lab, strides quick and long, as he makes his way to Tony, and grabs hold of him by his throat.

“Woah, woah, woah!”

“It's going around.”

Tony chokes out a reply, hands grasping Thor's forearm for purchase, “Come on. Use your words, buddy.”

“I have more than enough words to describe you, Stark,” he lifts him higher in the air.

You jumped to your feet, making a b line to Thor. Your eyes flash a bright blue, fur violently threatening to rip through your skin as your fangs extend.

“Let. Him. Go,” you say on a low growl. You've placed yourself between Thor and Tony, your claws come out as Thor regards you.

“Thor!” Steve stepped forward, “The Legionnaire.”

Thor lets him go, and when Tony lands on his feet, he staggers, and his hand comes up to your shoulder, giving you a reassuring pat. You don't back down from Thor as he eyes you again, his lip curling up on one side.

“Trail went cold about a hundred miles out, but it's headed north, and it has the scepter. Now we have to retrieve it. Again.”

Natasha crosses her arms in front of her chest, “The genie's out of that bottle. Clear and present is Ultron.”

Dr. Cho was across the room, examining the destroyed Ultron bot he took over. She hadn't noticed the altercation in the middle of the room, “I don't understand. You built this program. Why is it trying to kill us?”

Everyone had leaped into action, everyone diving out of the way from the incoming Legionnaire bots. Firing repulsors and missiles at you all.

Steve had flipped the coffee table up just in time to protect himself from a flying Legionnaire bot to the chest.

Natasha grabbed Bruce and made a run for the bar for protection.

You had grabbed Rhodey's arm to shove him down when a repulsor caught the both of you in the side and sent you flying through a glass pane, Rhodey's body flying right after yours and landing on top of you. You groan, and he rolls off you. You can feel the tiny cuts from the glass along your face, a few bruises forming where you landed.

“Poppy, oh God, are you ok?” Hands frantically roaming above your body. He stops, “not to freak you out, but there's a large chunk of glass sticking out of your leg.”

You look down, sure enough, there's a large shard of glass sticking out of your thigh. You twist your body and grab the shard with two hands, and yank it out, yelping a little at the pain.

“Are you crazy!?” Rhodey takes both of his hands and clamps them over the gushing wound. You put your hand over his and go to move, “Stay still! Or you're gonna bleed out. Tony!”

“I'm fine, Rhodey. Really,” he goes to protest again, but you're already moving from his grasp and limping to move back to the main room. Most of the chaos has died down by now.

Rhodey helps you up the stairs just as Thor throws his hammer at the Legionnaire bot across the room.

Your eyes scan the room and land on Tony, he's slumped over his knees on the stairs across from you, and then his eyes catch yours, he looks so lost and defeated he doesn't even try to hide it.

Tony paces away from you towards his desk, stopping next to Bruce. And he starts laughing, Bruce subtly shakes his head at him to get him to stop.

Thor takes a step toward Tony, and you place yourself between them again. He stops himself short, “You think this is funny?”

Tony's laughter dies down to giggles, “No. It's probably not, right? Is this very terrible? Is it so... is it so... it is. It's so terrible.”

“This could've been avoided if you hadn't played with something you don't understand,” Thor points a threatening finger at Tony, and you growl in response.

“No, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It is funny. It's a hoot that you don't get why we need this.”

“Tony,” your low growl is a warning.

“Tony,” Bruce hedges cautiously, “maybe this might not be the time to–”

“Really?!” He spins to Bruce, “ That's it? You just roll over, show your belly, every time somebody snarls.”

Your hackles rise, and you whirl around to say something, but Tony already regrets his choice or words when he meets your eye, and then quickly avoids it.

“Only when I've created a murder bot,” Bruce pleads.

“We didn't. We weren't even close. Were we close to an interface?”

“Well, you did something right,” Steve's stance is wide, arms still crossed against his chest, “And you did it right here. The Avengers were supposed to be different than SHIELD.”

Tony scoffs, “Anybody remember when I carried a nuke through a wormhole? Saved New York?

“Recall that? A hostile alien army came charging through a hole in space. We're standing three hundred feet below it. We're the Avengers. We can bust arms dealers all the livelong day, but that up there? That's... that's the end game. How were you guys planning on beating that?”

You knew Tony worried about other possible invasions, things he couldn't prepare enough for. He wakes up most nights in a panic. Other nights, he just doesn't sleep. You've tried to soothe him, reassure Tony that everything would be ok, as long as you were together. Together, you could weather whatever alien, supernatural, or evil forces threw at you.

Steves brows lower, chest puffing out slightly, “Together.”

“We'll lose.”

Steve drops his hands, brows now drawn together, “Then we'll do that together, too.”

Tony looks at him for a moment before turning away. He can't seem to look you in the eye. And when you take a step towards him, he puts a hand up and backs away.

A small whine escapes you, eyes pleading with him to let you in.

***

The conference room was a mess of folders, papers, and storage boxes. Trying to rifle through hundreds of physical documents on the off chance of finding something that links Strucker with anyone else.

Steve's rifling through folders, handing you papers to skim through, “Known associates. Well, Strucker had a lot of friends.”

“Well, these people are all horrible,” Bruce mutters.

You were reading through your own pile of papers when you heard Thor stop and come up beside you.

“What's this?”

Tony's brows furrow, scanning the image of a man, “Uh, it's a tattoo. I don't think he had it…”

“No, those are tattoos. This is a brand,” Thor confirms.

Bruce's fingers tap along the keyboard. After a moment, he perks up, “Oh, yeah. It's a word in an African dialect, meaning thief, in a much less friendly way.”

“What dialect?” Steve asks, putting his folders down.

“Wakanada...?” Bruce adjusts his glasses.

“Wakanda,” you say, Bruce raises his eyes to you, and Tony shifts from foot to foot.

Tony turns to Steve, his voice quieter than before, “If this guy got out of Wakanda with some of their trade goods…”

Steve, in turn, lowers his voice, “I thought your father said he got the last of it?”

“I don't follow. What comes out of Wakanda?”

“The strongest metal on earth.”

“Where is this guy now?” Steve asks the room.

–

After everyone had filed out of the conference room to gear up to leave, Tony pulled you into a corner, hand gripping firmly at your elbow.

“How do you know about Wakanda?” He lowers his head to catch your eye.

When you avoid it, he says your name, making you look up at him. His brow is set in a frown as he studies your face.

“I've run into Shifters and Weres that have come from Wakanda and neighboring countries,” his hand on your elbow drifts up to your shoulder, pulling you in a little.

You fall into him willingly, hands coming up to rest on his chest as you press your nose under his chin.

“They keep to themselves,” you continue, “the Shifters that guard the Royal Family. I'm positive there's Were blood in that lineage somewhere.”

Tony hums, his hands rubbing up and down your spine.

“I thought you were angry with me,” you mumble into his neck. He stiffens slightly and pulls back enough to look you in the eyes.

He shakes his head, “never. I was angry at myself. For JARVIS. For Ultron, for letting it get so..” he sighs. “I want - I need - to protect you. Everyone. I thought making Ultron a reality would be one step closer to that. To -”

You cut him off with a kiss, his lips molding against yours, and his body relaxes. All the fight and stress rolling off his shoulders just for a moment as you both get lost in the kiss.

His hands grip and pull at your waist to bring you closer, and your hands snake their way up and over his shoulders and into the hair at his nap. You feel Tony shiver when your nails scratch the base of his skull, then lightly pull the hair.

You swallow the groan that fights its way out of his throat and into your waiting mouth. You part, and you both pant for breath, heated and mingling in the space between your bodies.

“Tony, I love you,” you say into his lips. A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“Love you, too, Poppyfield.”

“Don't compare me with Stark! It's a thing with me. Stark is - he's a sickness!” The loud metallic voice of Ultron echoes.

Tony, Cap, you and Thor touch down across from Ultron and his companions. You are on the back of the Iron Man suit, and Thor is holding onto Cap.

Tony straightens after your feet touch the ground, “Ahh, Junior. You're gonna break your old man's heart.”

Ultron shrugs and takes a small step closer, “If I have to.”

“We don't have to break anything,” Thor's voice booms.

Ultron all but glares at Thor, “Clearly you've never made an omelet.”

“He beat me by one second.”

“Tony,” you scold.

You turn your gaze onto the twins. You learned a little about them on the quinjet ride over. They were young and fighting for something they believed in.

They reminded you of Leon and you, young and trying to take on the world. Only for it to never work out for you. Because your brother doesn't want anything to do with you now.

Ultron takes a step toward your group, his red eyes stare you down, and you try not to fidget under his gaze.

“You brought her here?” He hisses toward Tony. “What were you thinking?” His eyes shift back to you. He says your name, soft in his metallic voice, “it's not safe. You should go back while you still can.”

The hair along your arms and the back of your neck stand on end. His glowing red eyes bore into yours, the feeling like he can see through you, but sees everything you are at the same time. It sends a shiver down your spine.

You share a concerned look with the bright eyes of the Iron Man suit, and Tony shakes his head at you.

The boy, Pietro, you think his name is, steps closer, arms wide as he makes a show of all the weapons around the old ship. “Ah, this is funny, Mr. Stark. It's what, comfortable? Like old times?”

“This was never my life,” you can hear the sadness and regret in Tony's voice.

“You two can still walk away from this,” you plead.

“Oh, we will,” the girl, Wanda, says.

Steve takes a step forward, “I know you've suffered.”

“Captain America,” Ultron sneers, “God's righteous man, pretending you could live without a war. I can't physically throw up in my mouth, but…”

Thor takes a step forward, his hand resting on your shoulder to the right, “If you believe in peace, then let us keep it.”

“I think you're confusing peace with quiet.”

“Yuh-huh. What's the Vibranium for?”

The metallic lilt of Ultron's voice sounds amused. His mannerisms remind you an awful lot of Tony, and it gives you pause.

“I'm glad you asked that, because I wanted to take this time to explain my evil plan–”

Ultron goes to fly, and Tony, he meets him halfway, the two of them trading blows as they fly up and out of the wreckage.

It's never a good idea to split up. You said this as Steve and Thor ran off in different directions. No one bothers to hear your plea.

You were sure you heard someone come down this way, your claws at the ready to take down another body guard.

“Anyone have a visual on the twins?” You ask into your comms. There's no answer as you crouch a little lower in your prowl down another hallway.

“Here we are,” Wanda says, and before you could make a move, she waves her hands in the air. Red mist flows from her fingertips, swirling and mesmerizing as you try and wipe it clean from the air around you.

You can almost feel it as it digs into your eyes and ears under your skin. All you see is red. A snarl leaves your lips as you launch yourself at Wanda.

It's nice today, you think. The sun is warm on your back as you tend to the garden at your feet. Dirt clings to your hands and under your nails, but it's nice. It's peaceful.

There's small giggles around you in the garden. Every now and then, you get a glimpse of shiny charcoal hair above the vegetable plants. The giggling gets closer as you pretend you don't hear anything.

Suddenly, there's a weight in your back, tiny hands find your eyes as the giggles turn into fits of laughter.

“Guess who!” The little voice says in your ear.

You laugh, thinking real hard, “oh! Well, let's see, it can't be daddy. These hands are too small! Is iiiit,” you grab her around the waist and haul her around your body to the ground below, tickling sides as you do.

“Luna! I should have known!” The little girl shrieks in glee as your fingers find the soft spots of her sides, digging your fingers in as you both laugh together. Her odd eyes glisten with laughter and tears. One blue and one golden.

“Mama! No more!” she wheezes, little hands pushing into your face as you peck kisses around her freckled face. “Daddy help!”

You yelp in surprise as large hands find your waist and haul you up and away. As Tony sets you on your feet, his hands find the small bump of your belly.

“What are my two girls doing out here, huh? Causing a whole bunch of racket so the neighbors think something is wrong?”

“Tony, we don't have neighbors,” you chuckle.

Luna, with her dirt covered hands, tugs on Tony's hand, “was playin’! Scared momma good! Luna, good girl!”

Tony pats her charcoal locks, smiling fondly at her, “of course you are, Luna girl. So good.”

Tony spins you to face him, a pleased look on his face and sparkles in his warm honey eyes, “why don't you both clean up, and I'll order us some lunch, yeah?” His lips find your cheek, and you hum in agreement. You grab Luna by the hand as she skips next to you.

You turn toward the house. It's a nice little cottage in the middle of the woods. It was a wedding present from Tony, and it made you so happy.

It's dark outside, no moon in the sky, but the stars are out, and it's warm.

A little too warm, maybe. Your eyes turn to the cottage. There's a fire.

A fire?

Poppy

“Tony? Luna!” You cry into the night air. There's no response. Just the roar of the fire blazing the cottage to the ground. The hair on the back of your neck stands on end.

The feeling is too familiar, and you whirl around. The silver catches in the firelight, and you stumble back. No.

Those steel blue eyes cut to you on the ground, and the muzzle is back over the lower half of his face.

“Bucky, it's me. Please,” you bring a hand up to stop his prowl towards you. It doesn't stop him. “Where's my family?” Your hand comes to rest on the small bump, tears burning your eyes.

Poppy.

Silver fingers grip the front of your sundress, hauling you up to eye level. His eyes flash bright amber, and you feel your blood run cold. No, you were joking about the serum. Joking about him being part werewolf.

“Bucky, please,” a tear escapes and runs hot down your cheek.

You can hear him try to sniff at you, a growl in his voice, “you were meant to be mine, lepestok.”

Poppy

“What…?” it's whispered in the space between you. You see his eyes crinkle like he's smiling behind the mask.

Poppy!

Your cheek stings. There's a red fog clearing from your vision as you blink rapidly. You're breathing heavily as your surroundings come into view.

“Buck-” your voice is hoarse and throat dry. “where?”

“You're on the quinjet, honey. Hey, eyes here, you're ok.”

Tony. Oh.

“What the fuck just happened? Where,” your hand ghosts over the nonexistent bump of your stomach, and it hurts. It's a horrible ache you never thought you'd experience. “I was-” you choke back a sob as you look into Tony's concerned brown eyes.

He scoops you into his arms, running a hand over the back of your head as he shushes you.

The hum of the quinjet softens as you feel it land. Tony lets you go, and you sit hunched over in the chair. He moves to the front of the jet, conversing quietly with Clint.

Steve sits across from you. He looks better than the others. with their far-off looks in their eyes, it sends a shiver down your spine.

“Steve?” His eyes snap to you, jaw clenched so tight you think his teeth might crack. “Are you ok?” His eyes scan you from head to toe, lingering on your center where your hand is still clutched tight over your stomach.

He nods once, eyes snapping back up to yours. There's a question in his gaze, and you have to tear yours away. Because you might start crying.

For having something you've always wanted, right there at your fingertips, and it all went away in a haze of red mist.

The back of the quinjet door opens, and you spring to your feet, fleeing the confines of the small space and out into open air.

You can still hear the echoes of her laughter in your mind. The feel of the baby bump on your tummy. The daughter you'll never have.

It's heartbreaking and soul crushing. Because you can never have children.

***

#tony stark x reader #mcu fanfiction #shifter!reader #tony stark x shifter!reader #tony stark imagine #mcu imagine

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that1nerd-20 · 7 days

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AHH IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS FOR SO LONG!! You did wonderfully as always, I just want to say that I love this series and the way you write. You are one of my biggest inspirations and I cannot wait to read more! (Obviously don't feel pressured take your time please)

Redamancy: Chapter Twenty-Nine

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: does a handsy Jasper need a warning?

Notes: oh my god it’s been so long, I’ve been eating myself up over not posting. I’ve been working myself to death, but I’ve finally got a long weekend off and so I used it to get back to what makes me happy - this story! Omg I hope you guys love it🥹 I also have to go through and update my taglist later tonight, so bear with me on that until I add it!

Word Count: 1500

Series Masterlist

• April 3rd, 2006 • Forks HS •

Reader

Tingly.

That’s the state of my body this morning, the state of my mind.

Not only am I riding an emotional high from our conversation this weekend, but my dream last night… Good lord, that dream.

I can feel the echoes of his fingers on my skin, the coolness of his lips, the wet trail they would’ve left behind… the solid weight of what surely his body would feel like, pressed against mine. I can imagine all of what it would be like vividly, to be under him, to get carried away, to just explore-

“You alright, darlin’?”

His voice jolts me from the day dreaming stare I had on the locker before me, caught red handed. To make matters worse, that deep southern tenor questioned me inches from my ear, causing a blush to heat my cheeks to an almost uncomfortable degree.

“Perfectly fine, why?” I immediately busy myself within my locker so that I don’t have to face him right away.

“You do remember that I can feel you, right?” His voice is low and his hands find my hips tenderly, but the air changes around us.

My heart rate skyrockets, this is dangerous. His fingers flex against me and the death grip I have on this book in my hands turns my knuckles white.

“Jasper-” his name is a whispered warning, but also a plea.

“I know.” Instantly a cooling, soothing balm blankets our tension and I release the tightness in my chest. Leaning backwards into him I just feel tired all of a sudden, like I had run a marathon. “Let’s get out of here.”

His request sounds more like a demand and I twist in his arms, “Is that a good idea?”

“Darlin’, I don’t have many of those these days.” His mouth quirks up in a lopsided grin as he shoves all of my school supplies back in my locker, shutting it and tugging me along behind him towards the student parking lot.

Jasper

Something is on her mind, something dangerous. Something I absolutely want to know, something I’m not sure I have the strength for, but I can’t help it - it’s her.

I’ve never been more thankful for an overcast day with no rain: perfect motorcycle weather. Come to think of it, my sister had a knowing look in her eyes as my siblings all piled into their respective vehicles as I straddled my bike this morning. A decision that currently led me to now: Y/n and I leaving school before midday.

Those thoughts I interrupted earlier have her quiet, but her emotions are raging and it is driving me insane. Curiosity, need, nervousness - a dangerous concoction begging to overtake my rational mind. Separating myself from her feelings is almost impossible at this point, she is so well ingrained in me.

Finally arriving at my thankfully empty home, I shut my motorcycle off and offer a steady hand to help her dismount. Swinging my own leg over, I turn towards her and lean against it, observing her for a moment with crossed arms.

“What?” She makes eye contact as she struggles with the chin strap of my helmet.

Grabbing the helmet by the chin piece, I gently tug her forward between my legs, “Tell me.” I lace the command with neediness to encourage her to be pliant.

And judging by the way her lips part behind the dark visor, the immediate dilation of her eyes, and the weight of her hands settling on my thighs gently, I might’ve laid it on a little too thick.

Chuckling, I free her from my helmet and riding jacket. By the time I finish, she seems to snap from the daze and her hands clench on top of my legs.

“Not fair, Hale.” Feisty this morning.

I lean forward towards her ear with a grin as I stand from my bike to put away the gear, “All’s fair in love and war, sweetheart.”

Reaching to swat my chest, I grab her hand gently before she could injure herself.

Pausing as I hang my jacket up, her teasing response sends excitement through me, “Two can play at that game, baby.”

Stepping into my room, I realize too late what has her curiosity: my desk. Well, the art that occupies every inch, my art.

“What is all this?” Leafing through pencil sketches of my favorite hunting spots and pen etchings of my family at random moments, she gets to the important ones hidden below. Her breathing hitches and I know she’s found them, the ones of her.

Some are in pencil, some are in random felt-tip pens, but my favorites? Those are charcoal. A decently basic medium, but I feel like it captures so much more than anything else ever could. Maybe it’s because I use my fingers to smudge and shape her perfect curves and lines, but it radiates emotion in sweeping gestures and subtle shading - something that’s hard to capture with anything else.

“There’s-” awe, shock, surprise, they all shuffle through her and I’m on edge, waiting to hear her thoughts. “There’s so many…”

I watch her carefully examine each one and I smile when she chuckles at a few - some of her at school, some of her here in my home, moments I not only committed to memory, but to paper.

“Now you know what I do with my free time.” I smile through the minuscule anxiety that bubbles up at her seeing my secret hobby. Everyone in my family knows I draw, but they haven’t seen my drawings.

“Jasper…” I can tell she’s getting emotional, but a part of me is excited for her to see my innermost thoughts on paper, to see herself through my eyes - the unaltered beauty she contains.

“You haven’t even seen the ones I cherish the most.” Opening a familiar sketchbook buried under many other drawings, I reveal my favorites. “The very first ones.”

Her breath hitches, running a reverent finger down the first page. It’s the very first moment I saw her, crouched, scooping up papers on her first day of high school in Forks - absolutely radiant.

“You were a vision that day. A beautiful tornado that wrecked my world, I tried to capture every detail from memory because I never want to forget-”

Her hand finding my cheek breaks me from my explanation and my eyes find her watery ones, mouth open, searching for words clearly hard to get out, “Jasper…”

“I love you.” My confession steals her breath completely this time, the first time I’ve uttered these words aloud and it feels absolutely right. “I’ve loved you since the moment you hit me with that door. I knew I was absolutely ruined for anyone else and I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Tilting her chin up with the tip of my finger as it wobbles at my confession, I smile, “Say something, darlin’.”

“I love you, too.” Now it’s my turn to go wholly still. “I knew from the moment I saw you I’d never be the same, I was yours-”

I couldn’t wait another second, I closed the minuscule gap between our mouths to seal these confessions. I love her and she loves me. Me.

Tilting her head back slightly as I cradle her, I take my cue to deepen the kiss, to pull her closer carefully. Groaning into her mouth, fuck I can’t get enough of her. Trailing kisses down her jawline as she tips her head to the side for much needed air, her gasps drive me to lift her onto my desk.

“Jaz…” her breathy plea of my nickname freezes me, panic seizing my actions.

“I am a gentleman, but only just barely.” My voice is gravel in my own ears, breathed down the slender column of her throat.

A shiver from her causes me to clench my jaw and attempt to gather myself.

“Maybe I don’t want a gentleman right now.” Her whisper damns me, it fucking sets me on fire.

A slamming door downstairs straightens my spine and my hands abandon the exploration of her. Fuck, my family’s timing couldn’t be better, but also worse.

“Honey, we’re home!” Emmett’s booming voice echoes up the stairs and immediately I know he knows, he can probably smell it.

Huffing, I help her regain her footing and straighten her clothes from the rumpled mess my hands made of it. I also take half a thought to smooth her arousal, a damn shame-but a necessity if we’re to face my siblings for the rest of the evening.

“Fucking Emmett.” Her frustration draws a chuckle from me as we make our way downstairs.

“I heard that!” My brother’s response causes her to roll her eyes at me playfully and I shake my head, my heart weighing much fuller in my chest as she plucks its invisible strings with her shit-eating grin.

Taglist part 1

#jasper hale x reader #jasper hale fanfiction #redamancy series #jasper hale x female!reader #twilight fanfiction #jasper whitlock hale #twilight #bless-my-demons #jasper hale #female reader insert

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that1nerd-20 · 7 days

Note

Best thing ever, I'm not crying in public, you are 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲

Ok sorry for blowing up your asks, but I have one that might be right up your angsty alley…

Marshall is having a particularly hard time on one of the anniversaries of Proof’s passing…🕊️ He’s super vulnerable with reader and she has to comfort him 😔🥺

DIFFICULT 🕊️

Eminem x Assistant Reader

Synopsis : Em is nowhere to be found as you're waiting for him for an important meeting. Turns out... It's the anniversary of Proof's passing and he needs you.

Tags : Vulnerability - Grief - Angst - Comfort

Author's Note : Thank you for this Ask ! I low-key love that you thought of me when it comes to angsty requests 👀. I got inspired and ended up writing quite a bit but I'm afraid it's all over the place. I hope you like it nonetheless. ❤️

Do you know where he is ? Paul asked, visibly unnerved. He should already be here !

He’s coming, you assured the manager. I reminded him of this meeting on Friday, don’t worry, he’s going to show up.

It’s your job to make sure he shows up on time, Y/N, Paul added sternly. That’s what personal assistants are for.

He’s never late, you said. I’m sure there’s a good reason. Something must have come up…

It was unlike Marshall to show up late to a work meeting, especially when it involved music. In the past year, since you had started working for him, he had never shown up late anywhere. If anything, he was a bit neurotic about punctuality. « Early is on time, on time is late » he always said. And when it came to anything regarding his latest album, he tended to show up extremely early, polishing details up until the last minute. Except that, today, he was almost thirty minutes late and you were facing Paul and Dre on your own, and there was only so much small talk you could make.

Look, if the album’s not ready for me to listen to yet, you guys just have to say so, Dre said.

No, it is, Paul assured him. I mean, you know Marshall, he’s always trying to polish and tweak little things, but we have a version that’s more than ready for you. We wouldn’t have you come from LA otherwise…

I’ll try an call him, you said.

You got up and went to your office. You were starting to be a little freaked out. You didn’t want to be dramatic, but you were starting to feel scared that something terrible had happened. One time, he got into a car crash and was not even that late. Thirty minutes late for Marshall was basically four hours late for anyone else. You got out of the room and tried to call him, but he didn’t pick up. Had he lost his phone ? You knew he hated the iPhone you had convinced him to buy - to replace his more than ancient Blackberry - and he used it as little as possible, but him losing anything was unlikely. And he knew about this meeting. You had specifically reminded him of it. He wouldn’t show up late to a meeting with Dre. He had way too much respect for the man. You nervously checked his iCloud calendar, thinking that maybe he was confused about the time. Unlikely but not impossible either. You remembered adding the event « Meeting with Dre - ALBUM VERSION 1 » for this Monday, 9:00 AM a while ago. But it was nowhere to be found. Had it been accidentally deleted ? Had you dropped the ball ? No. Impossible. Not to toot your own horn, but you wouldn’t screw up like that. It was probably a bug. You checked the week’s other events. Deleted too. You knew he had other meetings and studio sessions planned, but they did not appear on the calendar. Weird. Especially since last week’s event were still appearing, and the following week’s too. It looked like someone had cleared this week’s schedule and you knew it wasn’t you. It had to be Marshall, then, since he was the only other person to have access to his calendar. You were worried. He would not clear a whole week’s schedule, especially not when he was nearly done with his album. Something had to have happened. Something awful, by the looks of it. Your mind immediately went to his family. They were the only people he would clear his schedule for. You decided to call Hailie, hoping that nothing awful had happened to her or her sisters.

Hey Y/N, you heard her soft voice say as she picked up the phone. How are you ?

Hey Hailie, you said nervously. Are you alright ?

All good, she said. Why ? Are you ok ? Is there anything wrong ?

Um… I don’t know, you said. I'm trying to reach your Dad. Have you heard of him ?

Not since Thursday, I think. He told me he was spending the weekend with you. What’s wrong ?

He’s just a little late to a meeting, you said as you tried to sound casual. I was worried that something had happened to you, your sisters, Nate…

No, we’re all good, she said reassuringly. Look, I’m in Chicago, but I can try and call him…

Don’t worry about it, you said. Enjoy Chicago.

Thank you ! See you !

Hailie didn’t seem too worried, so there was at least that. However, you were a little bugged off. You absolutely had not spent the weekend with Marshall and, frankly, you were a bit shocked that he had lied to his daughter about it. Not that you never spent the weekend together - in the past six months, it had happened quite a bit - but he was not the type to lie to his daughter. It was odd that he would use you as a lie, especially since your relationship - if you could call it that - was still in the developing stage. As far as Hailie was concerned, you were the closest thing her Dad had to a girlfriend but, in actuality, it was a bit more complicated. It wasn’t necessarily serious or committed, and there most certainly wasn’t any label on it. You were his personal assistant, whom he occasionally fooled around with. The only reason Hailie saw you as his girlfriend was that she had walked in on the two of you making out with very, very few clothes on. Thank God, she was an adult and didn’t really want to know anything about it. No one ever mentioned the incident but she assumed there was something between you and Marshall. And there was. In a way. But he wasn’t really the kind of guy to put a label on it and you knew it. He was extremely guarded and, even though you knew you were one of the people closest to him, you didn’t expect much. He was a really great boss, amazing man and more than satisfactory lover, but you knew him enough to know it would never evolve into anything serious. « I don’t do relationships, you know » he had once told you. And you didn’t mind. You enjoyed things just the way they were. The way you saw it, the sex you sometimes had - usually on work trips or late nights - was a perk to your job, along with the generous salary and health benefits. But regardless of all that, him lying about spending the weekend with you was extremely odd. You tried calling him again, but were sent straight to voicemail. You sheepishly went back to the conference room.

Did you talk to him ? Paul asked.

No news, you said. That’s odd. I’ll go to his place and if he’s not there, I’ll try the hospitals. I’m sorry.

I hope he’s ok, Dre said. Keep us posted ?

Of course.

You made your way to your car and drove to his place. Security knew your car and plates and saw you often enough to let you through the gates. You parked in front of Marshall’s house and immediately noticed that the car he used the most was parked out front. He was home. Thank God, you didn’t have to worry about a car crash. You rang the bell but no one came to open it. Maybe he had slipped in the shower and injured his head ? Or fallen down the stairs ? No. You often joked about him being older but he wasn’t geriatric either. Still, you were worried so you used your spare key and let yourself in.

The house was unusually dark and messy. You checked downstairs, the living room, kitchen, office… It was messy, like someone had rummaged through things, but Marshall was nowhere to be found. You tried every room upstairs, every closet, every bedroom, but he wasn’t there either. You decided to try the only remaining space you hadn’t checked : the basement (you doubted he was in the garage - he liked his cars but not enough to cancel a meeting about music). That’s where you found him : in one of the dimly lit rooms he had converted into a home music studio, laying on the carpet, eyes closed, headphones on his head. You gasped and almost thought he was dead. You immediately rushed to his side and checked his breath. As soon as you approached, he slowly opened his eyes and groaned.

Marshall, are you alright ? You asked. Are you hurt ?

No, he said in a raspy voice before sitting up.

You examined his face : he looked like a zombie, or at least like someone who had forgotten what sleep and food were. And judging by the smell, he had also forgotten about showers. You usually enjoyed his masculine scent but now he was smelling as rank as a teenage boy addicted to video games.

What are you doing here ? He asked.

I came to check you weren’t dead, you said. You missed the meeting with Dre. Paul is furious.

Wait… What day is it ? He asked in confusion.

Monday, you said. April 12th.

Fuck.

He rubbed his eyes and scratched his beard, and you inspected him closer. His eyes were bloodshot, with huge dark circles. The beard he usually kept well-trimmed was all over the place, so was his short hair, and his breath smelled of energy drink. He had always had a penchant for soda and Redbull, but it usually wasn’t to the point of smelling like a candy factory. Well, if you added the smell of sweat, it was more like someone who ran a marathon in the Redbull factory. Marshall looked at you without saying a word.

Are you alright ? You asked.

Does it look like I’m alright ? He groaned.

Not really, you admitted - not really knowing what to say.

Why are you ask, then ?

If you hadn’t been so worried, you would have snapped at him for behaving like an ass, but it wasn’t him. You sighed and looked at the CDs he’d been listening to : « Searching for Jerry Garcia » and « I Miss the Hip Hop Shop » by Proof. That’s when it hit you : today was April 12th and April 11th was the anniversary of his best friend’s passing. The both of you were sitting on the carpet, not saying a word. He knew that you knew.

Do you… Um… Want to talk about it ? You asked tentatively.

I need a shower, he said.

Yes he did. He definitely did. You got up and waited for him to do the same but he simply groaned as he tried to move. You gave him your hand and helped him up as he let out a moan and held his back. You wondered how long he’d been laying there, listening to music and losing track of time. He seemed to have trouble even standing up. « God, he must be exhausted », you thought.

Need help ? You asked.

Y-Yeah, he said.

Shower ?

Yeah.

Without a word, you helped him to the nearest bathroom where he started undressing without even waiting for you to leave. You could feel your cheeks burn. You’d seen him naked before, sure, but this different than the two of you shedding your clothes in a passionate moment. Now, you had the feeling of seeing something you weren’t supposed to. It felt a bit weird. You watched him step in the shower and went upstairs, to his closet, to pick some clothes for him to wear. You grabbed boxers, some sweatpants, a wife beater and a hoodie and put them in the bathroom, near the sink before opening the windows to let in some light and fresh air, as you tidied up a bit. You’d spent some time in his house before but you had never seen the place this messy.

Thanks for the clothes, Marshall said as he emerged from the bathroom.

Feeling better ? You asked.

Yeah.

When was the last time you showered ? You asked.

I don’t know, he shrugged.

Last time you ate ?

Fri…Sat… I don’t know, he replied.

He seemed gaunt and, even if the shower seemed to have done some good, Marshall seemed like a corpse. He was standing there, staring at you, not extremely responsive. You had never seen him like this and it was definitely a far cry from his usual self. Ever since you had met him for the first time, you had found him to have an impressive presence. Whenever he walked into a room, he naturally drew attention to him and he had such charisma that he seemed bigger than he actually was. But for the first time, he looked weak and lost.

Are you hungry ? You asked.

A bit, he replied.

Sit, you said. I’ll prepare something. What do you want ? Pasta ?

Whatever, he said.

He sat on the couch and you made your way to the kitchen. Being the one responsible for his shopping, you knew the pantry like the back of your hand and knew exactly what was in there. You decided to make some homemade spaghetti, using Mom’s Spaghetti sauce with homemade garlic toasts. His lazy comfort food. When you brought his plate to the living room, he was manspreading, looking at the ceiling.

Thanks, he said as you handed him the food. Chips would have been enough, you know ?

You need to eat a real meal, you simply said.

He nodded and started to eat. You noticed he was avoiding your gaze. He usually didn’t have much trouble maintaining eye contact, except for when he was ashamed, or sad, or tired. In this case, you knew it was probably a mixture of everything. There was no doubt as to his exhaustion and sadness, and you knew he would feel ashamed for missing an important work meeting. You looked at him and left the room to go and call Paul.

So ? He asked. How is he ?

He’s… sick, you lied, knowing full well Marshall wouldn’t want you telling people how you had found him.

Sick ? The managed asked. What does he have ?

The flu, you said. It’s pretty nasty. I cleared up his schedule for the week. He needs rest. He’s really sorry about the meeting.

Alright. I’ll call him later, he said. Dre has to leave today, we’ll have to set up another meeting.

I’ll let him know.

You also texted Hailie to let her know you had managed to get ahold of her Dad. When you got back to Marshall, he was looking at a picture frame of him and Proof. From the looks of it, you guessed it was from 2005-2006. You sat next to him in silence.

The flu ? He asked in a raspy voice.

Couldn’t come up with anything better on the spot, you said. At least, it buys you the rest of the week so you can rest.

No need, he said. I can… I can work.

Bullshit, you sighed.

He stared in your eyes for the first time all day and sighed. His eyes went back to the picture frame and you could see hum swallow dryly.

Went was this taken ? You asked.

March 2006, he said in a breaking voice. It’s the last picture of him I have…

His breath was shaky and you could tell he was on the verge if tears. You placed a hand over his and gently stroked his skin.

It’s ok to cry, you know ? You said softly.

You weren’t too sure why you said that. Of course it was ok to cry. A man in his fifties, especially your boss, did not need your permission to cry. Or so you thought. Because as soon as the words left your lips, the tears started to flow and he started sobbing. You put a hand on his back and tried to soothe him while you saw his face redden and scrunch up, his tears wetting his face. It was painful seeing him like this and you wished there was something you could do. If that were possible, you would gladly take his pain and make it yours.

Fu-fuck, I-I’m sorry, he said after a while.

You have nothing to apologize for, you said gently. It’s ok. He was your best friend. It’s ok to be sad.

I-I fucked up…

It’s just a work meeting, you reminded him. We’ll set up another meeting with Dre, I’ll move a couple of appointments, it’s fine.

No, not… I-I…

He was trying to speak but he wasn’t making much sense. He was stuttering, his voice cracking, changing pitch… You put your arms around him, half-expecting him to push you away but he didn’t. You kept running a hand up and down his back to soothe him a bit and it seemed effective.

Thank you, Y/N, he said.

Were you like this all weekend ? You asked.

Yeah…

Is that why you told Hailie I was spending the weekend with you ?

I… Yeah, he said sheepishly. I didn’t want the kids to see me like this.

I see, you said. So… what ? You listened to his music, looked at pictures and lost track of time ?

I guess, he shrugged. I… I tried to go to his grave yesterday but it was packed.

I guess a lot of people miss him, you said.

No, it was… I saw them and they were wearing… My tee-shirts. My merch. They were my fans. On his grave. And it drove me fucking mad. Because I couldn’t even get out of my car, and I had to see these people pay respect but they were fans. They didn’t know him. And I saw the posts on social media. And people keep on making it about me.

His voice broke again. You had often had conversations with him about fame and how he was dealing with it. Most of the time, he was grateful for it, though he often gave the impression that he didn’t really get why he was famous and how people could look up to him so much. « It’s just me », he often said. Deep down, he only saw himself as a guy trying to make it in hip-hop, trying to be the best emcee. Fame was never really part of his plan, though he was grateful for the success and love of people granted him. But the way he was speaking, it seemed like less of a blessing and more of a curse. He explained to you that he felt guilty for people making Proof’s death about him. Sure, he was his best friend, but he was so much more, and he just wished people would respect his legacy and everything he meant to the hip-hop culture. He also felt guilty when he thought about Proof’s family, who didn’t only have to deal with a tragic loss but also his own fame, and always being asked questions about him.

His wife… She always hated me, you know ? He said. She hated all of us. Proof was never home, always either getting in trouble with us or trying to keep us out of it. Now we don’t speak too much and… I mean, I get it, I was his friend, not hers, but… I don’t know. I was supposed to be an uncle to his kids, you know ? I’m supposed to be there for them, not make things difficult. I’m supposed to be the one sending flowers, not receiving them in their place.

Do you keep in touch ? You asked.

I try, he said. I mean, if the kids need something, they know they can call. Sharonda too. She never would, she’s too proud but… Yeah, I just wish I could do more, you know ?

I know, you said. You shouldn’t feel guilty…

No, I should, he shrugged. When he died, I was a massive asshole about it… I mean, I guess I made it a lot about me. But now it makes me so mad. And sad. And I miss him so much and I just wish I could apologize to him.

For what ? You asked as you stroked his hand.

Everything, he shrugged. For being ungrateful and not seeing everything he did to hold down the fort. Proof… He was strong when I was weak. And I never got to tell him how thankful I am. If it weren’t for him, I’d still be making burgers.

I’m sure he knew how much you loved him, you said softly.

I hope, he said. He was everything to me… Like… We didn’t love each other like that, you know. Like, no homo or whatever. But sometimes I think he was the love of my life. In a platonic way. Like, he was my other half, the one who made me a better person. And now that he’s gone… I’m just me. And it’s hard.

You’re still pretty great, you said. And I know he would be proud of you.

I… I don’t know, he said.

He seemed lost in his thoughts. You realized you had been stroking his back the whole time and stopped. He turned to you with his eyebrows furrowed and he didn’t even have to ask for you to resume. It was the first time the two of you had such a prolonged physical contact without it being sexual and you wondered if he noticed, too. He closed his eyes and you looked at him some more. He was clearly exhausted and you weren’t too sure how long he would need to sleep. Probably a long time.

You should go to bed, you said softly.

I guess, he shrugged.

You need rest, you insisted. I’ll do the dishes and go home, ok ? You can call me if you need anything.

Can you stay ? He asked nervously. I… I don’t feel like being… alone.

Sure, you said with a hint of surprise.

Ok.

He got up and headed upstairs. When he noticed you weren’t following him, he turned to you with a raised eyebrow.

You don’t want to come ?

Upstairs ? You asked with your eyebrows furrowed. To your… room ?

You said I needed to sleep, he pointed out. I’m not sleeping on the damn couch.

You shrugged and followed him. That was new. You had slept over a couple of times, but never in the same bed as him. The only circumstances in which you had seen his bedroom were strictly sexual. But as soon as the deed was done, he wouldn’t sleep in the same bed as you. And even when you had slept with him during work trips, you’d been back to your own room after. It was one of the many ways in which he could be guarded and you knew it had nothing to do with you. He just had his quirky, peculiar ways. He got in bed and looked at you intently.

Come, he said.

Ok, you said as you sat next to him.

Remove your socks, he instructed.

I’m not removing my socks, you said. My feet are cold.

You’re not getting in my bed with your dirty socks, he pointed out.

I just put them on this morning, you said. They’re not dirty.

It’s a pet peeve, he said. Just… Socks off, ok ? And get under the covers.

You scoffed. If he was in a good enough state to be oddly specific - as he often was about practically everything in his life - it was a good sign. You took your socks off and sat in bed, under the covers. It felt weird but Marshall didn’t seem to pick on it. He simply laid there and stared at you.

You’re not laying down ? He finally asked.

Um… Sitting is fine, you said.

Can you lie down, please ? He asked.

You looked at him with a raised eyebrow but still did as you were told. As soon as you laid down next to him, he closed his eyes. Given how exhausted he looked, you half-expected him to fall asleep right then and there but he didn’t. Instead, he kept on tossing and turning.

What’s up ? You asked. Do you need anything ?

I think it’s the Redbull, he said. I haven’t drank much else in days. It’s keeping me awake.

Oh, you said. Let’s talk, then.

About what ? He asked.

I don’t know, you shrugged. We can talk about anything. What’s up with the cleared schedule on iCloud ? Did you do that ?

Yeah… I don’t know, he said sheepishly. I… I went to the cemetery yesterday and when I couldn’t go and had to go home, I guess I lost it. There were these thoughts in my head and… I’m not sure I can do it anymore. Without Proof it’s… too hard.

Tears were welling in his eyes again. It had been more than fifteen years since Proof’s passing and Marshall had put out quite a few albums in that time, but the wound still seemed fresh. It wasn’t a matter of his technical ability to do it without Proof - of course he could - it was about whether or not he wanted to.

Ok, you said.

Ok ? He asked.

What do you want me to say ? You asked. Do you want me to plead for you to keep going ? I’m not going to. If you want to quit and retire, that’s ok, you’re allowed.

Really ?

I mean… Yeah, you said simply. It’s your decision. If you think you don’t have anything else to bring to the table, that’s fine. You’ve had a good run and a career people can only dream of having. If you decide to put an end to it, that’s fine.

Wait… No, he said. I mean, your job is to talk me out of it. Is that some reverse psychology thing ?

It’s Paul’s job to talk you out of it, you clarified. Me, I’m just a personal assistant. My job is to manage your schedule and make life easier for you. Whether or not you put out music, my job’s fine as long as you need me to do your shopping, come to football games with you and remind you of your dentist’s appointments. Next one is in two months by the way.

He chuckled and you couldn’t help but smile. His face was still puffy and he still didn’t look his best, but hearing him laugh - however lightly - was good. He was a great person and you hated seeing him like this. Of all the people you had ever met, he was the one who had suffered the most, and deserved it the least. He was a good, hardworking, honest and generous man, on top of being one of the most talented people ever. His sadness was breaking your heart. If his career was making him sad, if keeping on going without Proof was too hard, he should be allowed to quit. He had earned it and, in your opinion, he didn’t have anything left to prove to anyone.

So you don’t care whether I end my career or not ? He asked with an amused look.

As a fan, I think it would be tragic, you said. Especially If you don’t put out that last album. It’s your best work so far. But as a person… What I care about is you, Marshall. I’m in the front row, seeing how hard you work every day. If you say that’s too hard, then that’s too hard and I trust you on that. If you think you’ll be happier doing something else, just enjoying life with your family and focusing on your charity, you should do that.

Proof would kick my ass for thinking of quitting, he said pensively.

I think Proof would want you to be happy, you pointed out.

He hummed and looked at you. He brought a hand to your face and stroked your face as a single tear rolled on his cheek. You smiled and wiped the tear, letting your hand cup his face. You stared at each other in silence. It was unusual but, oddly enough, not uncomfortable.

Thank you for staying, Y/N, he simply said before letting out a small yawn.

You should really try and get some sleep, you replied softly.

He nodded and closed his eyes as you heard him take deep breaths. A couple of minutes later, he was asleep. You could hear him snore lightly. You looked at your phone to check the time. It was only 1PM. You figured you’d stay there for a while and let him sleep while you answered a couple of e-mails. After a couple of hours, Marshall was still sleeping soundly. You thought you might as well do some tidying up in the house, but as soon as you tried to move, you felt his arm around your waist, bringing you closer to him. You smiled to yourself as you realized it was the first time you actually cuddled with him - and you enjoyed it more than you probably should. Your back was against his chest and you could feel his heartbeat. This and the sensation of his arm around you were incredibly soothing and you allowed yourself to close your eyes for a minute.

(…)

Marshall groaned as you gently shook his shoulder to try and wake him up. He scrunched up his nose and let out a few obscenities. He looked pissed off as he opened his eyes.

What time is it ? He groaned.

About 7PM, you said.

You better have a good reason to wake me up, he sighed.

I think I do. You have clothes on your bed and ten minutes to get changed, ok ?

I’m not getting dressed, and I’m not going out, he said with an eye roll.

And I’m not giving you a choice, you said with a smile. Get up. Please. You won’t regret it.

You made your way downstairs and prepared a bottle of water and a snack for Marshall as you waited for him. When he arrived, he looked a bit puzzled. He was still clearly tired but he looked a lot better. You made him get in your car and drove to the cemetery. You had called ahead of time and asked if they would do you a favor and keep the place open for a couple more hours. You used the « Marshall Mathers » card, which always worked when it came to getting a table at a fancy restaurant, borrowing a private jet or keeping a store open when Marshall needed to shop for his daughters’ birthday.

What are we doing here ? He asked as you parked out front.

You know what we’re doing here, you said. It’s after hours and you get to pay your respects in peace.

You… You arranged for this ?

I did, you said. They’ll be open until 8:30PM. I’m sorry, I didn’t find a florist open, though.

He looked at you in shock and immediately engulfed you in a hug before whispering a « thank you » in your ear before getting out of the car. An hour later, you were leaning on the hood of your car, smoking a cigarette when Marshall came back. He seemed more at peace. You could tell he had cried - as people often do when they’re visiting someone’s grave - but he seemed alright nonetheless. He walked up to you and took you by surprise by kissing you. Contrary to all the kisses you’d shared until now, this one wasn’t greedy, hungry or passionate. It was tender and soft. Intimate and emotional.

A-Are you alright ? You asked.

Yeah, he hummed. Thank you for taking me.

You’re welcome, you said with a smile.

Ready to go ? He asked.

Almost, you said as you pointed to your cigarette - knowing full well the hatred he had of your smoking habit.

The drive home was a bit weird. You had kissed before but this felt different. You had always enjoyed his kisses but this one was, by far, your favorite. You felt a little guilty for enjoying it so much. If you were honest with yourself, it was a little scary, too. The only reason you had managed not to catch feelings for Marshall was because he was usually guarded and there were a lot of boundaries. But after today, after seeing him this open and vulnerable, you weren’t too sure you could go back to having casual sex with him. It would be too dangerous.

Did you know Proof’s family would be there ? He asked as you parked in front of his place.

Were they ? You asked in surprise. No, I didn’t.

The cemetery must have called them, then, he shrugged.

I’m sorry, you said. I insisted that you have your privacy…

It’s fine, he said. I talked to Sharonda. Nasaan was here too.

How did it go ?

Pretty well, he said. I’m seeing them later this week. Over dinner.

That’s great, you replied with a smile. I’m happy for you.

Thank you Y/N, he said emotionally. For everything you always do for me. I mean, I wouldn’t be able to get through life without you. You put up with me, you make life bearable… And… Thank you for today, especially.

You’re welcome, you said with a small smile.

He cupped your face and kissed you again. You leaned into the kiss more than you should. A part of you knew that you should push him away… But you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Not after he had such a hard day. So you kissed him back and enjoyed the sensation of his tongue caressing yours, of his fingers in your hair.

Now, you should go and get some rest, you said softly.

Are you coming ? He asked as he stroked your cheek.

Do you need me ?

Y/N… I always need you.

And just like that… You knew you were screwed. You felt an army of butterflies in your stomach and your brain was nowhere to be found. It had left the chat as soon as you heard Marshall’s soft voice say he needed you. You were unable to think so your emotions took over as you exited the car and got inside the house, his hand in yours.

#eminem #marshall mathers #slim shady #eminem fanfiction #eminem x reader #eminem fluff #eminem imagine #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers imagine

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that1nerd-20 · 7 days

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16 YEARS OF SOBRIETY 🤍

Em just posted this photo on social media. He is celebrating 16 years of sobriety today 🥺.

It is his accomplishment and his only, but I’m still a bit emotional over this. I’m not too sure why. I love the fact that he shared his journey and was so public about it. I hope he knows that, by doing so, he is inspiring many people to get better ❤️

Of all the songs he has written about his drug use, Arose is the most powerful one in my opinion 🕊️. At least, that’s the one that made me want to get better ❤️‍🩹

Congrats Em 🤍

#eminem #marshall mathers #slim shady #recovery #16 years sober

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that1nerd-20 · 7 days

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Happy 16 years of sobriety Em!!! So proud of you!

#eminem #stan marsh #marshall #marshall mathers #sobriety #good job em #em #slim shady

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that1nerd-20 · 8 days

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Me with anything past Infinity War 🤭🤭🤭

Pic found on Reddit

#fanfiction #avengers #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #avengers x reader #marvel x reader #marvel cinematic universe x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #avengers fanfiction #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #natasha x reader

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that1nerd-20 · 8 days

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I absolutely love this series, I cannot wait for more!! 😍😍😍

The cliffhanger too, I need buck to make this right...

in the far corner of the forest IV

Pairing: Orc!Bucky Barnes x human!f!reader

Word Count: 6,535

Summary: For the longest time, the kingdom has used Bucky as their number one fighter, forcing him to win their wars for them. The only thing he asked for in return after he was done was that they give him a wife, and they did. They handed him the orphan he picked on a silver platter; it wasn't like anyone would miss her. It would've been perfect if she actually wanted to be there though.

Warnings: mentions of hand injury, idiots in love, feels, jealousy, racism against orcs, angry behaviour, shouting, fight gets slightly physical, bruised arm, crying, angst (i'm sorry). I think that's all.

A/N: good news result in long chapters. thank you from the bottom of my heart for everyone who has wished me good luck with my interview, you guys are angels. please enjoyxx💜💜

“You’re in love.”

“I’m what now!?” Bucky chuckled dismissively as he dropped his axe.

Bucky had spent half a day at home, refraining from going to work because of his hand’s condition, but as much as he loved staying home with her, he knew he wasn’t made to take a break.

So he thought he would visit, talk to Sam for a bit and maybe get some pent up ‘feelings’ out on some tree logs. His metal arm was still working just fine after all.

“I said, you’re in love with your human wife,” Sam repeated, smiling so warmly that Bucky wanted to smack him.

“I got her a few weeks ago.” Bucky shook his head in denial of the mere idea of him falling for anyone, let alone a human.

He did love Sam and Sarah, but that was it. They were the only humans he could tolerate. He hated the rest of them. Hell, he hated the human half of himself.

Bucky was just trying to make life easier for himself, that was all. He has been through enough conflicts and he didn’t need this in his marriage too. He deserved to live a normal life like everybody else.

Yes, he was courting her, and maybe he did constantly crave the feel of her body against his ever since she let him hug her the night of the injury, and he was definitely getting hopeful now that she hadn’t tried to run for 2 whole days, but that didn’t mean he was in love! Did it?

“And now you’re in love with her.” Sam smirked, knowing how much it drove Bucky crazy that a female human had him on his knees for her love.

“Quit saying that!” Bucky stood up, ready to walk away from his annoying friend.

“Why does it make you so angry that you’re in lo—”

“Don’t,” Bucky warned him, eyes angry and glaring.

“—ve?”

“I am not in love with her, okay! She’s human! Plus, that girl drives me crazy! Do you know how many times I had to bring her back after she’d tried to run in the first two weeks? Five fucking times! That’s almost once every two days, Sam. And she only had one foot working!” Bucky ranted heatedly, desperate to negate his best friend’s theory.

Was he in love with her? And if Sam could see it, did that mean she could too?

“Well, why do you care to bring her back? Why not just let her run?” Sam shrugged, internally dying for Bucky to acknowledge his feelings.

“She could die out there! Humans are weak.”

“So?” Sam probed, intentionally ignoring Bucky’s remark about humans’ strength.

“So— so I signed all those things when she was offered to me. She can’t— I can’t—”

“You can’t?”

“I can’t let her get hurt,” Bucky admitted lowly, sitting down on a log with a loud sigh.

“Why does that make you so upset?” Sam dug deeper.

“Because I think you’re right. I think I might be in love with her.” Bucky rubbed his eye with his good hand, pushing his hair back angrily.

“And?”

“And she thinks I’m the devil.” Bucky’s face fell to his palms.

“Did she ever say that to you out loud?” Sam asked, touching the end of his sharpened blade.

“She doesn’t need to, Sam. I see it in her eyes every time I find her after she’d tried to run away.” Bucky’s voice was broken like his friend has never heard before.

“I thought you said everything was better after your injury?”

“Yeah, but that’s not gonna last forever.” Bucky gave a sad grin, “she’s soon gonna go back to seeing the same as before.”

“Well, it’s up to you to change her mind, Buck.” Sam patted his friend’s shoulder, giving a squeeze.

Bucky sighed once more before getting up.

Sam was a human. A very handsome one with much less scars and non-icy skin. He would never understand. It would never work. She hated him.

He could continue trying, but it wouldn’t change anything of the way she felt about him and their marriage. She had told him time and time again how she felt about both.

“Going home already?”

“Yeah, I can’t miss the running away bit. It’s my favourite,” he sighed, Sam's laugh trailing behind him.

“Smile at her for a change.”

“Shut up.” I do smile at her. I only ever smile at her.

“Sarah loved the jam by the way!” Sam yelled.

“I’ll let her know!” Bucky yelled back before exhaling sadly.

Sam would never understand. Her taking pity on him those past couple of day was nothing more than sympathy and likely even guilt.

Sam would never understand that of all the eyes in the world, it seems like Bucky has managed to fall for the only ones that knew how to hurt him, the eyes that would only look at him as a disgusting, frightening monster.

When Bucky got home, everything was creepily in place. His door was closed like he had left it and he actually had to use his key to open it for the first time in a while.

Stepping inside, the warm smell of roast chicken welcomed him back.

The house was warm because all the windows were actually shut, too. It was all so calm and homely; the orc was seriously worried.

And then he heard it: his human wife’s sweet voice, humming the melody of a song unfamiliar to him. It sounded like it was coming from the kitchen.

Bucky carefully shut the door behind him, not wanting her peaceful mood to end so soon as he tried to take lighter steps to where she was.

Much to his dismay though, she needed something from the other side of the kitchen and when she turned around she saw Bucky and gasped, jumping embarrassingly high.

“You scared me!” She whined, holding a hand to her heart.

“Sorry.” Bucky smirked, entertained by how cute she looked when startled.

“Welcome home,” she mumbled with a bit-back grin, holding onto his forearms before getting on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on Bucky’s cheek.

She never told him, but she was unbelievably thankful when he didn’t specify which type of kiss he expected weeks ago, and even more thankful when he didn’t object to her pecking his cheek before burying herself under the covers.

Life with Bucky has gotten undeniably familiar lately and leaving him was all of a sudden an idea that didn’t interest her as much as before.

Everything he was saying and doing has brought her closer to him without her even comprehending it.

As the days passed, she had realized running away was too exhausting, too risky, and for what? It wasn’t like she had a home to run to or a treasure buried somewhere or a lover worth escaping her orc for.

Her orc.

Hers.

A word she never felt the meaning of until the day Bucky made her his wife.

Bucky was the first and only one to present to her a taste of something she has never had: the feeling of exclusively owning things.

The smile that graced her face when she brushed her hair the first time with the brush Bucky got her was new and unprecedented.

Her brush, he called it.

Her shoes. Her chair. Her towel. Her clothes. Her books. Her side of the bed. Her cottage. Her kitchen.

And her husband.

Everything was brand new and completely hers.

Nothing was handed down to her, nothing was used before the minute her fingers had touched it. None of the things Bucky gifted her had previous owners, including him and his heart.

Most importantly, she didn’t have to share any of it with anybody.

“You’re home,” Bucky said, a surprised yet very happy smile lighting up his handsome features.

“I thought the wife was supposed to say that,” she replied playfully, going back to the bubbling pot.

Bucky raised his eyebrows at the good mood she seemed to be in. He was liking this.

He watched her sprinkle some black pepper into the soup as he came behind her.

She could feel the heat of his body surrounding her even when they weren’t touching and it had her heartbeat going crazy.

“Thank you, little human,” Bucky whispered, before he leaned down and pecked her cheek as well, his stubble and blunt tusks tickling her jaw.

She felt her whole body jolt with electricity at the simple graze of his lips and tusks on her skin as she closed her eyes.

Bucky left the kitchen and went to the bathroom but she was still hot as if his warmth never left her.

And when she opened her eyes and absentmindedly reached her fingertips to touch her cheek, she found herself smiling too.

What was happening to her? What was this foreign feeling lifting her off of her feet in the middle of the kitchen?

“Sam’s sister loved your strawberry jam by the way!” Bucky shouted to her from the bathroom, making her jump again before smiling to herself.

He didn’t use Sarah’s name on purpose, not wanting to ruin her happy mood as he had noticed how angry she got every time he would say it.

“I’ll make her more tomorrow!” She replied with a grin, proud of her hand’s work, her jealousy long forgotten after Bucky’s words of the night before.

After all, how could she be jealous when she was the one that Bucky was looking at like that?

When she finished setting up the table and Bucky didn’t come out of the bathroom, she got a little worried.

He never took too long during his showers, and now that he only had one arm to use, she thought he would cut his showers even shorter.

What if his wound was bleeding again and he didn’t want to tell her and was trying to fix it by himself inside the bathroom? She knew she should have stopped him from going to the yard!

“Bucky.” She knocked on the door softly, wanting to make sure he was okay.

“Yes, little human?” Bucky instantly opened the door for her.

And he looked like a dream.

Steam has surrounded him inside the bathroom, water drops from his still-wet hair dripping down his muscular, bare chest and for the first time since Bucky has been naked around her, she found herself looking at him. Actually looking.

Bucky’s chest was so broad, beefy and ribbed down to his abdomen. Scars of all sizes and shapes littered the beautiful, icy greyish skin, a reminder of the battles he had fought and all the sacrifices he had made.

Her heart clenched at the sight, a pang of sympathy coursing through her as she could only imagine the pain he must have had to endure.

Still, she found her hands tingling in curiosity, desperate to know what tracing the healed skin would feel like under her fingertips.

Bucky was a sight for sore eyes, a sight that both captivated and unnerved her, stirring a flurry of unfamiliar emotions in her chest that she struggled to contain.

She averted her gaze, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over her at the unexpected intimacy of the moment.

“Are—” she chocked, her voice barely above a whisper as she coughed it out, “are you okay? You took a while.”

“Yeah, I’m just having a hard time drying up my hair with one arm,” Bucky reassured her, chuckling lightly at his dilemma as he let the towel around his neck drop.

He was completely oblivious to the way he just made her face burn up as her thoughts spiraled out of control.

“Come.” She took Bucky’s hand in hers, careful not to squeeze his palm, and led him outside to their bed.

It took Bucky a second to move his feet, but when he did, he felt like he was carried on top of a cloud.

She felt herself drawn to him in a way she couldn’t quite explain, her heart pounding with a mixture of nervousness, curiosity and… desire. A new sensation was tingling all over her body, specifically in places she didn’t need to be tingling right now.

Positioning herself between his parted legs, she reached to take the towel from around Bucky’s neck.

His eyes watched her, surprise flickering in them as he realized what she was going to do, unable to believe what was happening.

Sensing her nervousness, Bucky offered her a reassuring, grateful smile, silently encouraging her to continue.

And as she began to carefully pat his damp hair dry, her touch tentative and her eyes focused, he felt warmth welling up inside him.

She couldn’t help but steal glances at his bare shoulder and chest, her cheeks burning with embarrassment at the engrossing sight. It was a feeling unlike anything she has ever experienced before, her heart racing with unparalleled excitement.

The awkwardness of the situation began to fade bit by bit as she focused more on the task at hand, in its place growing an overwhelming sense of closeness and familiarity.

Bucky’s hair was so soft under her fingertips as she took the towel up and down the brown locks. She wished she had given herself a chance to touch it more before.

As she finished drying her orc’s hair, she met his gaze with a shy bite of her lip, her eyes sparkling with newfound confidence.

Bucky reached out to take her hands, his smile appreciative as his lips pressed a deep kiss on each palm, silently thanking her for her kindness and care.

“I didn’t know your cooking was so good. You surprise me every day,” Bucky praised, as she filled his mouth with more lentil soup, trying not to think of his conversation with Sam or the way his body was still on fire from the mere act of her drying his hair for him.

He couldn’t even believe she was feeding him after seeing him struggle to keep the food on his spoon using his left hand.

“All the girls at the orphanage know how to cook. They teach us all sorts of things and make us to be good housewives,” she replied, suddenly nostalgic of her days at the orphanage, curious to know how, where and when Bucky got the chance to see her back then.

Bucky didn’t say anything, busying his mouth with chewing some bread as his smile shrank.

She didn’t look happy. Why did she stay then? Was she planning on running away at night that day? Maybe she put something in the food?

“I’m glad you like your dinner though,” she said, breaking the thick silence with a soft smile as she fed the orc a piece of chicken.

“Why didn’t you try to leave today?” Bucky couldn’t hold back.

She was taken aback by his question. She thought he wanted her here.

Was he finally done? Did he want her out? Was he not going to look for her this time? Has Bucky given up on her? Was he going to leave her be had she gotten out today?

Most importantly, she didn’t know how to answer because it seemed like she was done running away from her new life with him, and she didn’t know if she could admit that.

“I– did you want me to?” She asked, her voice strained as she tried to hold in the tears.

“No! No, of course not!” He assured her quickly.

“Then?” She chewed on her lip.

“I don’t want you to stop running if it makes you feel alive,” Bucky told her, his blue eyes gushing with love he didn’t intend to show, “I’m willing to go to the ends of the earth to find you.”

“What?” She wasn’t expecting this at all, all the tingles she had hardly managed to shake off after drying Bucky’s wet hair coming back to attack her.

How were these words coming out of an orc! And why did they make her heart stutter in its beats?

“I love your fiery spirit and I’m afraid I’m killing it by keeping you here against your wishes. I never want to be the one to snuff your fire out.” Bucky admitted, eyes sincere as he watched her.

She just stared at him for a moment, stunned as her heart skipped yet another beat.

If he only knew that he was the one who had managed to bring this fiery personality to life.

Bucky respected her silence and went back to enjoying his dinner, not wanting to push her for a reply. She could take her time.

She kept staring at him in confusion for another minute before taking her almost untouched plate and getting up.

She almost ran to the kitchen with her hand on her heart.

What was going on with her? Her heart wasn’t seriously beating this loud for the orc. Could it be?

He sounded so selfless and spoke so gently like he has never before and she was overwhelmed.

His words were doing things to her that she has never felt before. What was wrong with her?

She knew she had caught herself staring at him without a shirt just minutes ago, maybe admiring his eyelashes as he slept in some early mornings, but she rendered it curiosity and nothing more.

She shook her head, her thoughts startling to her as she emptied her plate in the garbage and started washing it vigorously.

Bucky no longer had an appetite, sighing at her reaction.

He told himself could understand, but it was still hurtful the way she jumped out of her chair.

He left his plate on the table, not wanting to invade her privacy by going to the kitchen before leaving the cottage altogether.

He probably shouldn’t have said anything.

She revisited the subject the same night though, not wanting there to be any misunderstandings between her and Bucky. Not any longer.

“I don’t wanna leave anymore,” she admitted timidly, making Bucky’s smile betray him and his usual frowning.

“But I don’t like being locked away in here all day either,” she said carefully, scared to upset him.

“Where do you wanna go? The forest is dangerous, little human.” Bucky was back to frowning at the thought of anything bad happening to her again.

It was torture for him when her foot was still healing and he was the most relieved when it finally did. He couldn’t just let her just roam around when she didn’t know the area.

“Take me out when you come back from work maybe? Or even on your day off,” she suggested, desperate to see the world.

“And go where?”

“Anywhere. We can walk around the woods before it gets dark, you could show me your shop, I could meet Sam? Or we could even go to the market!” She suggested eagerly.

She has been locked up for so long and she didn’t want to continue her life like this.

Bucky actually thought about it and he didn’t hate the idea. Taking her out with him would ensure her safety. He would be by her side and he would protect her. He also liked the thought of taking her out and properly courting her even if she didn’t know that that was what he was doing.

He said he didn’t want to kill her spirit by keeping her in here and she gave him the solution.

“Okay.” Bucky nodded at her with a smile.

“Okay?” She exclaimed happily, not believing Bucky would actually take her out to see around.

“Okay.” He nodded again reassuringly, her happiness making him laugh.

“Well, don’t you have tomorrow off?” She asked suggestively, gesturing to his hand.

Bucky laughed, nodding, “put your shoes on.”

“Thank you, Bucky.” She involuntarily gave his healing hand a squeeze, kissing his cheek, before running to get her shoes.

Bucky swallowed hard, hoping he would be able to hold himself together and not completely melt under her sweet company.

“You’ve got to promise me though,” he said.

She looked at him questioningly as she slipped one foot into a shoe.

“No running away, little human.”

“No running away. Promise.” She promised, shaking her head with a shy smile.

Bucky smiled big, taking her smaller hand in his as she grabbed her basket in the other, ready to browse the market with her husband.

Her husband. That was starting to sound unquestionably comforting.

“Oh, and one more thing.”

“What?” She tilted her head with a grin.

“You owe me a kiss,” Bucky said, his tone serious.

“No, I don’t! If anything, I just gave you an extra kiss!”

“Yes, you do. From that morning. You’re still one kiss behind!”

“I just made up for it!”

“Doesn’t count. That one covers the night before.” Bucky shrugged, a smile etched on his lips.

“Okay, fine.” She kissed Bucky’s cheek, “stop going around saying other girls’ names though.”

Bucky laughed, “I only know one!”

“Still too many,” she whispered under her breath, but Bucky heard it, smiling from ear to ear as he took his hand in hers, taking the right path out of the woods. ~ It was a beautiful afternoon, full of warm sunshine and fruitful deals. She has got some pretty good stuff for really good prices.

She couldn’t believe Bucky actually gave her pocket money.

He didn’t want her to have to ask him for money every time something caught her eye. He wanted her independent, fulfilled and brave as she bought herself whatever her heart desired.

Her heart was so full and her smile was inerasable.

Bucky didn’t let go of her hand all day and she actually liked it so much that she never complained. The feel of his calloused skin against her soft palm wasn’t like anything she has felt before.

She didn’t want to let go of his hand even while looking at the different stands and booths at the market.

But she eventually liked the flower stand too much and told Bucky she would take a look at them while he continued buying them the fruits he was picking.

“Good afteroon,” a smooth voice interrupted her admiration of the potted plants before her, making her look up for a second.

“Good afternoon.” She smiled coyly.

“Any favorites?” The handsome man inside the booth asked her.

“All of them,” she giggled softly, the sound catching Bucky’s ears at once.

The man laughed back, “okay, I think I have something special for you. How about this one?” He brought her a purple flower from the batch hidden behind him inside the booth.

“Oh, how beautiful! What is this one?” She wondered, amazement sparkling in her eyes at the sight of the pretty petals.

“That is a Globemaster Allium. Pretty, isn’t she?” He asked, staring at her desirously as she looked at the flower.

“Yes, she’s stunning!”

“I’m Cole by the way—”

She heard Bucky clear his throat next to her and looked up at once, the innocent awe in her eyes softening the orc a little.

“Look, Bucky! Isn’t this the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?” She pointed to the flower pot excitedly.

Bucky leaned in, his frown scaring her a little, her breath hitching when his lips tickled the shell of her ear, “no, little human, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

She chocked on her own saliva, hiding her hot face with her hand as she coughed, “Bucky!” She whined with a shy smile.

Where did that come from!

“Let’s go,” Bucky said with a nod of his head, eyes stern as he glared at Cole.

“Can—” She held his wrist, “can I have it?” She asked softly, gesturing to the flower pot.

Bucky wanted to say no. He didn’t want her to have this farmer’s flower. But he couldn’t say no to those hopeful, beautiful eyes of hers.

“Fine.” He watched her get the money out of her pocket and she smiled gratefully as she almost set them down on Cole’s counter.

“It’s on the house,” Cole said, still smiling dreamily at her.

She could all but swallow as she gave a polite smile back before looking up at Bucky for help.

“Take your goddamn money.” Bucky made a quick job of paying for the flower, taking the money from her and slamming it on the counter, making the whole booth shake.

He quickly took his wife home, deciding that was enough socialization for the both of them for the day.

She wasn’t going to lie, she was loving jealousy on her orc. It felt so intoxicating to have someone love her so much that he was jealous of other men talking to her.

She wouldn’t tell Bucky, but she would probably spend the nights of the next week smiling at the wall every time she remembered how he held her hand back home just a little bit tighter that day.

Her own heart was running wild at the sight of the orc now and she didn’t want it any other way.

“Now you know how it feels,” she teased with a smile as they were getting ready for bed.

Bucky couldn’t let it go, talking about how they were never going to stop by that farmer’s flower booth ever again.

“That’s not the same! I was never into Sarah! But that man was openly ogling you!” Bucky grumbled, his frown digging deep into the skin of his forehead.

“He was just being nice, trying to sell his flowers,” she laughed, upsetting Bucky even more.

How couldn’t she see it? The guy was all over her!

“He was flirting and you were all giggles and blushes.” Bucky copied her, going to the bed and burying himself under the covers, facing the wall.

He understood now why she had done that.

“Hey, that’s my spot!” She joked, not knowing if Bucky was being serious.

“Not tonight,” he murmured from underneath the covers.

“Bucky,” she whined, uncovering her orc’s face.

Bucky didn’t reply, pushing himself closer to the wall.

She tried to bring him on his back by the shoulder like he so easily did a couple of night ago, but he was too strong for her and his body wouldn’t budge.

She huffed, “okay, you left me no choice.”

Bucky remained still, wanting to see what she meant by that as he felt her shift behind him.

Before he knew it, she was on top of his bicep, trying to slot herself between his body and the wall.

“What on earth—”

“You started it, Bucky!” She said, voice determined as she kept pushing, trying to squeeze herself in the small space accessible.

Bucky looked at her in amusement for a second before moving back, making her body drop as larger space became available.

She landed with the tiniest “ouff” on the mattress, facing Bucky on her side with her back to the wall, its coolness helping soothe the heat rising to the surface of her skin.

That was the closest she had been to Bucky since their hug the night of his injury, face to face as his passionate sapphire eyes watched hers.

“Hi,” she whispered, heart in her throat.

“Hi,” Bucky replied with a charming smile, smoothing some of her ruffled strands back in place.

She stared at the orc’s eyes, not the slightest bit scared of the fact that she was trapped against the wall by his huge body.

“You’re not the only one who wants to be loyal to this marriage, Bucky,” she said, surprising Bucky and herself, “I don’t want the farmer. I don’t want anyone else.” but you.

Bucky smiled in disbelief, taken aback by her words, and she took it as permission to move closer to his chest. He instinctively wrapped her up in a protective hug, wondering how he was able to hold himself back from kissing her.

She pushed her face into her orc’s chest, his scent and warmth engulfing her into a protective bubble.

She couldn’t believe she said the words she has just said and it made her bury her burning face deeper in Bucky’s arms.

He could only hug her tighter, his nose in her sweet-smelling hair as his smile grew bigger.

This moment right there was everything Bucky has ever wished for. He could die a happy orc right then and there.

It became a habit for them to go out to the village on Bucky’s day off. They were both having a great time, getting closer and falling harder.

Cole hasn’t spoken to her again after learning that the snow orc was actually her husband, and she respected Bucky’s feelings and never approached Cole’s booth no matter how pretty the plants on his stand were.

Market outings were their thing now and she wasn’t going to let anything ruin that.

She didn’t want anyone else’s attention but Bucky’s anyway. His hand has almost fully healed and she could now squeeze it all she wanted whenever she got excited about anything they encountered.

One thing did occur that annoyed her though and that was the way the jewelry lady would look at her every time her and Bucky would pass by. The woman had so much pity in her eyes when she saw her hand in an orc’s and she hated it.

She despised the way people misjudged her orc when he was far better than any human man she could’ve ever ended up with.

Yet, the lady kept giving her those pitiful looks, probably thinking Bucky had enslaved her or something.

But enough was enough.

When Bucky was busy looking at the knives, she made her way to the jewelry lady, determined to put an end to the ridiculousness.

“He is my husband,” she sternly told the lady in the jewelry stand, taking the chance that Bucky wasn’t listening.

“Oh.” The lady quickly gave a kind smile, turning from concerned about her to happy for her, “I apologize for misjudging you, dear. I was only worried about you. We’ve all heard stories about him.”

“Well, that’s all they are. Stories.” She ferociously defended, her eyes still stern.

“I’m sorry,” the woman sincerely expressed her regret, squeezing her hand.

She nodded with a small smile, accepting the older woman’s apology.

“I don’t see a ring on your hand.” The jewelry lady gestured to the collection of rings in her glass box with a wink.

“Oh.”

The sentence caught Bucky’s ears as he turned away to look at her embarrassed face.

“We didn’t get time to buy one. It all happened so quickly,” she explained awkwardly and Bucky’s expression fell.

“I have a pretty collection if you wanna take a look, and don’t worry about the price,” the older lady suggested kindly.

“No, it’s okay—”

“Choose what you like, sweet thing,” Bucky whispered to her, immediately by her side when he saw her eyes skimming over the jewelry, “I’m sorry I’m not familiar with the human marriage traditions. I should’ve gotten you one sooner.”

“It’s okay, Bucky. You don’t have to,” she reassured with a tender smile.

She didn’t need a ring to know that she was Bucky’s.

“I want to. I want you to wear my ring, little human.” Bucky raised her hands to his lips, placing the softest kisses on her each finger.

Her heart surged as a shy smile spread on her lips, heat rising to her cheeks.

“Okay.” She nodded happily, feeling like she was in a dream and she never wanted to wake up.

Though very expensive, Bucky ended up buying her the ring she chose. It was the prettiest gold ring with a moss agate blue diamond.

She tried to talk him out of it, wanting to pick something cheaper, but Bucky wouldn’t have it.

She has never felt as special as she felt with Bucky’s ring on her finger. It was the prettiest thing from the most handsome orc.

And in that very moment, she was the happiest that she trusted her gut; that she gave Bucky, this marriage and herself a chance to be something more than a contractual deal.

Bucky couldn’t believe she has finally let him make her his. When he slipped that ring on her tiny finger, he felt like he was king of the world.

While walking back to their cottage, a new dream got unlocked inside of her, one that included her and Bucky and their very own little stand in the market.

“Can we stop by the shop before we go home?” She asked tentatively.

“Sure, why? Did you forget something there yesterday?”

She has been to the shop a couple of times, curious to meet the important people in Bucky’s life and possibly have friends of her own, too.

“No, just wanna show Sarah the ring,” she said, a shy smile lighting up her happy face.

Bucky brought her hand to his lips, kissing her ring finger this time, “to the shop it is.”

Everything was going amazingly and she wished with all her heart that it would stay that way, but unfortunately, the very next day was a day for another fight that none of them saw coming.

Bucky still hasn’t recovered from her little stunt a couple of weeks ago and today he came back to find the cottage empty again.

He should have locked the door. He shouldn’t have trusted that a ring on her finger might stop her old habits or give her a magical change of heart.

What about all the small moments she had shared? Did those mean nothing to her?

Bucky’s anger and feeling of betrayal wiped away everything nice that had happened between the two of them, only remembering that she never wanted to be here in the very first place.

“Why are you so adamant about making me lose my mind?” Bucky asked, pushing her inside and slamming the door behind them.

“I’m not! Would you just listen?!” She yelled back, startled by the harsh treatment.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” Bucky shouted as if he didn’t hear her.

“I was just—”

“Wandering through the forest alone is dangerous, I’ve told you time and again, and yet you keep doing it!”

“Would you listen to me?!”

“No! You acted like you would stop running, so what changed?!” Bucky threw his big arms in the air, making her take a step back.

Bucky looked bigger than he usually did when he was livid like that.

“I wasn’t running!” She repeated, her voice tinged with anger of her own at the distrust.

“Stop lying!” Bucky growled, roughly grabbing her by the arm.

“I’m not lying,” she insisted as she tried not to wince at the way Bucky held her forearm, her jaw clenched defiantly.

“Then what were you doing up the hill, huh?” Bucky unconsciously squeezed her arm harder.

“You’re hurting me.” She tried to pull away, but Bucky wouldn’t release her.

“You think you’re the only one who has fucking feelings?” Bucky shook her in his hold, unintentionally bruising her further.

She cried out but it fell on deaf ears, “Bucky, let me go!”

“Do you think what you do doesn’t affect me just because I’m not a goddamn human?!” He forced her closer, making her tears fall as he barked in her face.

His words hung heavy in the air, echoing through the spacious room.

“Bucky, please,” she tried again, not wanting to fight anymore.

Bucky finally listened, suddenly shocked at his actions as he let her arm go.

It’s been so long since he had made her cry and he just ruined everything good he had worked on building with her.

She just stood there, whimpering in pain as she held her arm to her chest.

Bucky watched her roll the sleeve of her winter dress up to look at her arm and there they were: thick fingerprints on her flesh.

“I— I’m sorry,” he whispered, trying to get closer to look at her arm, swallowing hard.

To his surprise, she let him.

“I’m sorry, little human.” Bucky wiped a few tears away, regret evident in his voice.

“I wasn’t running,” she repeated, pushing her hands in the pockets of her dress, “I was collecting berries to decorate the cake I made earlier.” She pulled handfuls of now ruined wild strawberries, raspberries and blackberries out of her pockets and dropped them on the wooden table for him to see.

She left alone Bucky to stare at the berries and went to the kitchen.

And boy did he stare.

He felt so stupid and ashamed at the way he had reacted. He just hurt her and she wasn’t even trying to leave. He wouldn’t let her explain either and had unjustly judged her.

She got out a cold water bottle from the fridge, pushing it to her bruised arm.

Bucky walked into the kitchen, shame branded on his face.

“Are you okay?” He asked, not knowing what to do to correct his mistake.

“What do you think?!” She irritably snapped at him, waving her bruised arm in the air.

“I just wanted to help!” Bucky barked back.

“Well, I don’t want your help!” She shouted.

“Fine! Don’t want it!” Bucky walked out, his feet stomping on the wooden floors.

He stormed out of the cottage, violently slamming the door behind him.

Bucky then realized what he has just done and how he had made the situation even worse. He kicked a rock so hard he was sure it flew to the other side of the forest as he saw birds flying disruptively.

“Damn it!” He yelled out loud, slamming his fist to the door, making her flinch inside the cottage.

The fight between the orc’s rough exterior and his rather tender feelings for her was torturing Bucky. What he meant to show was that he cared about her and was worried for her, but instead he’d done what he’d done.

She, on the other side of the wall, irately got out of the kitchen with the trash bin and swept the berries from the table, throwing them in the garbage.

When Bucky got inside again, she was cleaning the stain of the berries from the table, her features still twisted in a frown.

He opened his mouth, trying to think of anything he could say to fix this, but nothing came out. With a sigh, he left the cottage once more, leaving her all alone.

She sat down with a huff, throwing the cloth in her hand across the room.

She let her tears run in frustration.

It was supposed to be a peaceful night where they enjoyed a delightful desert that she has worked hard on making and was going to work hard on decorating.

She was trying to start a life with him. Why did he have to ruin it like that? She wasn’t running. How could she make him believe her?

She desperately wanted, needed Bucky to trust her.

She cried harder, feeling helpless in the face of her orc’s rage as her heart clenched at the thought of a happiness gone so soon.

Tag List:

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that1nerd-20 · 8 days

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Am I gonna have to write cod fanfiction now??? 🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤭🤭🤭 let me what you guys think

Went to the Midwest horse fair and saw some cool horses, but most of all I found the sexiest man alive 🥵

I tried to get good pictures but they weren't the best, but like my God, he's so fucking hot.

Mask link go brrrrr 😩😩😩

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that1nerd-20 · 8 days

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I just realized this is litterally just simon Riley. Now I'm thinking about Roman soldier/gladiator Simon Riley, affectionately called ghost, meeting a beautiful woman, you, and then it proceeds to jaw dropping, feral, dirty sex. Then you become his pretty petty wife. 😚😚🤭🤭🤭

Went to the Midwest horse fair and saw some cool horses, but most of all I found the sexiest man alive 🥵

I tried to get good pictures but they weren't the best, but like my God, he's so fucking hot.

Mask link go brrrrr 😩😩😩

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that1nerd-20 · 8 days

Text

Went to the Midwest horse fair and saw some cool horses, but most of all I found the sexiest man alive 🥵

I tried to get good pictures but they weren't the best, but like my God, he's so fucking hot.

Mask kink go brrrrr 😩😩😩

#fuck #hot mf #so hot 🔥🔥🔥#hot as fuck #horse and rider #midwest horse fair #roman soldiers #im so fucking wet #i turned so red

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that1nerd-20 · 9 days

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Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh 🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵😍😍😍😍😍🤩🤩 I'm absolutely in love with this 😭😭😭😭😭

the jailbird (2)

prisoner!simon 'ghost' riley

part 1 | original text post

cw: (former) prisoner!simon, civilian!reader, romance & fluff, smut, size kink, sane and consensual, roleplay, rough sex, spanking, bondage & gags, tattoo kink, dom!simon, sub!reader

bunny says: love the fic? leave a comment! really love the fic? suggest your own! reblogs are encouraged!

living with an ex-convict was interesting. he still woke up at the crack of dawn, and as a result you were up too. he didn't know where anything was in your apartment, he hated that he had to wake you up but he didn't know where the spoons were.

you were happy to help him and spend some extra time together before you went to work. the more you were around him, the more you realized how big he was compared to you.

even his hands were much larger than yours. he loved to wrap you up in his arms and hold you while you were making yourself some breakfast. those strong tattooed arms around your middle as you flipped eggs.

sometimes he'd bury his face in your neck and visibly relaxed. he was still dealing with his fair share of trauma from the previous events of his life. and while it often left him stressed, he found comfort in you.

"you're my anchor, love." he said within the first week of his return to society.

you simply smiled and tried not to blush too hard as you said, "well, si. i'll happily be your anchor, as long as your mine."

"you're anchor, your rock, your foot solider, your lover." he said as he kept his gaze on you. since he had been living with you, you found his expression had softened a little. he could relax here.

"my husband." you reached out for him. he took your hand and kissed the top of it before he held it for a moment then returned it to you.

simon had a long road ahead of him, being on the inside for so long was going to cause some problems. but, he knew even if he had nothing. he had you.

it was almost five months into living together and he managed to get an interview working in small parts manufacturing. while it was tedious, they didn't need to look at his criminal record. which greatly excited him.

when he came home from the interview, he told you that it went well. that they seemed to like his dedication and were impressed when he mentioned his time in the military. he said, "got the whole 'thank you for your service'." as he held you and kissed you deeply.

it felt like your little lives were coming together. but the one thing you hated to admit to yourself. you sort of had a dark side, it wasn't anything too aggressive or 'evil'. you thought that simon was the perfect boyfriend, he'd never hurt a hair on your head.

but the idea of being with a criminal sort of had a sexy ring to it. to be with the bad boy. you almost felt embarrassed to admit it when he'd come home with flowers for you, or when he smiled at you. or when he held your hand when you went out. with you he got to be a person with love.

deep down you wanted to know the depths of your boyfriend. you wanted to know what a man like him, with his skill set, was capable of. you wanted it to burn, ache and hurt.

it took a lot of courage, you communicated with your boyfriend about a little make believe. while hesitant at first, he slowly started to warm up to the idea. you knew he was open to it when he came home from one, actually the first day at his job, with a bundle of bondage rope.

"the blue looks good on you." he remarked as he finished tying you up on the bed. he had your arms behind your back with you on your side and one leg tied to the bed post.

you looked at him, those eyes of yours were so alluring. you tried to move your leg but was stuck to the bed. he smiled down at you and tapped the ball gag in your mouth.

"but it doesn't matter what you want. right?' he asked, "i've searched a long time for you. you're not an easy woman to catch." he got between your legs, and hiked one leg over his shoulder as he started to aggressively lick your cunt. it was already dripping from the act of him tying you up.

there was no escape for you, even if you somehow got out of the bondage. he was almost twice the size of you and could do some damage if he wanted to.

you squirmed and whimpered around the ball gag as he took long, hard licks against your clit. he wanted to make sure his girl was wet enough for his large cock.

"maybe i should breed ya. bring you back to the boys all fat with my brats.' he purred, "i don't think they can throw ya in the can if you're pregnant. but who knows, you got pregnant by a thief." he continued to lick your sweet cunt. he was in heaven.

he really was so much bigger than you. he overpowered you, he could keep you down and fuck you until he had his fill, and there was nothing you could do about it. you were bound and gagged like a good girl.

he kept at it, he even teased your hole with his thick fingers until you were squirming more with your moans getting louder. he slapped your ass and gave you a stern look over your pussy. he gripped your leg over his shoulder. "shut up." he growled, "i don't need ya causin' a scene. i'd hate to go back to prison because you can't keep your trap shut up."

you hole clenched and he chuckled. he patted where he smacked and grabbed at the flesh before he went back to his feast between your legs. it didn't take long before the slick between your thighs got all over his face.

he pulled away and sat up on his knees. he stared down at you with your thigh wrapped around his waist. he was going to fuck you at a weird angle, but it was the only way he could keep his little prize tied up. he wiped is face, "you are the best thing i've caught." he said, "stolen a lotta loose change, but they're nothin' to the sweet taste of your cunt." he got his cock out his sweatpants and started to rub it against your slick pussy. he let out a harsh sigh from the sensation, "they should be keepin' ya behind the vault door." the tip slipped in for a moment and you clenched around it.

you whimpered and tried to pushed yourself down on his cock, but it was hard to do that when you were so tied up, he pushed the hair out of your eyes, your leftover wetness got on your cheek from his movements.

"but, you need to know." he said, "you're mine to do whatever to. your mommy and daddy aren't gonna save ya. you fell in love with a bad man and now you're lettin' him fuck your cunt raw. what's gonna happen at christmas when you're all swollen with my brats. riley boys are lil hell raisers." he went back to rubbing his cock up against your slit, "you'll be mine forever. my little prize. i should've taken ya a long time ago. just snatched ya up off the train. keep ya to myself." his tongue was getting loose from the buzz of pleasure in his brain.

you whimpered around the gag and almost cried out when he slipped his large cock into you easily. you felt it in your guts and his pace was much more brutal than the other times you've made love. that was the difference, you made love before. this was dirty, primal sex between a criminal and his captive.

the sounds of sex filled the air, paired with simon's heavy breathing. his heart was thumping steadily as he pushed his cock as deep as it would go. he loomed over you as he drilled himself into you. you were a comfortably tight fit around his cock.

you dug your nails into your palms from the immense pleasure and yelped when he slapped your ass. you whimpered when he leaned further into you to get closer into your personal space. his pace was brutal and it excited you.

"i'm a bad man." he said lowly, his voice close to your ear, "my worst crime is tainting such a precious angel." he held onto your calf as he bent your hips the closer he got. his voice was hot, "fill ya right up, make sure no other man has a chance to get ya knocked up." his tattooed hand went to your stomach which he gave a small rub, "my girl carryin' my boys."

your eyes almost rolled back from the heat in your body. you were almost drooling around the rubber gag in your mouth. it was dirty, it was filth. if anyone saw the state you were in, they would be shocked!

your head felt full of lust, you felt your lover so close to him. you knew despite the roughness and the harsh words, the entire scenario was safe. you knew you could get out of this if you needed to. but it wasn't getting to be too much, it was just enough.

the wetness between your legs and the flips in your stomach only excited you. to have such a large man be so domineering. it made you feel small in a good way. it was almost like being bound made you feel protected.

that you could lay yourself over to him and he'd cherish you. even if you were his little 'prize' for the evening. the hottest part was the pace at which his cock was battering your womb.

you whimpered against your gag and felt the heat rush through you. you held onto your palms as best as you could with your arms bound. the entire situation left you spinning, there was no wonder that orgasm crept up on you so easily.

with a loud moan around your gag, you climaxed around his cock. the tightness of your cunt mid-orgasm milked his cock till he was seeing stars. he came inside of you, his seed hit against the back of your womb.

the feeling of being able to do so left him a little slack-jawed. but he kept it together, even if his cheeks were flushed. when he finished, he slowly pulled out and started to untie you. his hands were shaky from the after effects of his orgasm.

he took the gag out of your mouth and pulled you in for a kiss when he finished untying you. he fell into bed with you and laid on top of the covers with you. he held you gently and kissed your face. he gave you gentle praise as he kept you in his arms.

when he looked at you, all was right in the world. you held onto him and pressed kisses against his face. after care consisted of tea and a small snack followed by a shower together, where he washed every part of you.

even though you were capable of doing it yourself, you still appreciated how detail orientated he was in the manner of getting you clean. little did you know that biology was working its magic and simon's seed found home in your cervix.

you better hope that the line about the riley boys being hellions was untrue or you'd have your hands full. it didn't help that when simon's hand grazed your stomach as he washed you that you blushed and tucked yourself closer to him.

mama riley did have a ring to it.

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that1nerd-20 · 9 days

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Hi surfers of the Bucky x reader or Bucky x y/n tags. I know this is not a fic but I wanted to ask that if any of you are interested in a Bucky x oc fanfic, I am currently in the process of writing one, so please check it out. It's linked in my masterlist, the name is Hydra hurt us, but he brought us together. There's a synopsis of the story and small snippets I've written that you can read that are also in my masterlist.

(Also please don't get mad at me because I am using this tag to promote a oc fic. The reason I'm doing this is so I can get some more attention to my fic by talking directly to you. That's why I'm using these tags.)

I hope you check it out and enjoy the chapters that are currently out!

Masterlist

#marvel #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #fanfiction #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x oc

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that1nerd-20 · 10 days

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Binged this today, already in love with it!! Can not wait for nore!!

"But werewolves aren't real?" || werewolf! 141 x werewolf! reader Part 6

Future pairings = poly 141 x reader

Chapter pairings = everyone but Ghost/reader

Words = 1.2k

[Chapter 5] --- [Chapter 7]

Summery: After moving out of the big city and into the forest, you meet some men that might have some awners about whats been causing your pain.

Explicit under the cut

“I did not listen to you Gaz and because of that, Duck, you got hurt.” Price sat on the floor looking genuine.

Gaz sighs before standing over Price and cupping his jaw with both his hands. With his thumb he opens Price’s jaw and spits in it “You are forgiven…You need to listen to me. I'm an omega and have a different perspective than you knotheads.”

Price remained in the kneeling position and looked up at Gaz with adoration and understanding. “I understand now, I am truly sorry for everything.” A soft smell filled the area causing you to sneeze.

“Laying it on thick aren’t ya Cap’” Soap teased gently, “Even the nose blind puppy can smell it..”

“I’m notta puppy!” Huffing you tilt your head to look up at Soap, “I’m 60!”

“Not even that old puppy” Soap teased “Guess how old we are..”

“Um I feel like this is a trick question..” thinking for a second “Price is 100, You are 30, Gaz is 32, and um Ghost is 80..?”

“Not even close puppy..” Price gave you a teasing look. “I’m 800ish, Soap is 67, Gaz is 600ish, and Ghost is 720ish years old..”

“Nu uh no wayyyyy” You look at the men flabbergasted.

“Don’t fret you're not the only puppy, Soap is too” Price gave you a smirk and Soap rolled his eyes.

“Okay, okay you three..” Gaz sighed and turned around so he was looking at you “we need to sort out your heat.”

“Oh yeah...” You nod, still curled up In Soap’s lap feeling so safe and comfortable. “What does that look like, um, I kinda got the gist? I just get really horny right?”

“More or less,” Gaz started to pace as he started explaining “It comes in waves, so first you’ll get really hungry, thirsty, clingy, very sleepy and in that stage you’ll put on some weight which isn't a bad thing. Then you’ll want to nest and then you'll sleep. You could get really horny or you could just be very clingy and sleepy.” Pausing in front of you and Soap Gaz gave you a soft look “It’s different for everyone duck…”

“Oh alright…when will that happen?”

“Once your cycle figures itself out then it’ll be twice a year.” Gaz sat back down on the couch sighing. “They rut 6 times a year, which can be rough at times…”

“Duck,” Price looked at you gently, standing up he ruffled Soap’s already messy mohawk. “We will help out since it’s dangerous to go through a heat alone…and please understand we will go at your pace.”

Kissing your temple Soap huffed as Price ruffled his hair. “However,” Soap started “before heat starts and before it gets to yer’ brain we need to ken if we can help you sexually if needed..”

“I can’t do one night stands” You look at the three men quietly “I get too attached, but if you guys are gonna stay then I wouldn’t mind...”

“Duck, you aren’t getting rid of us unless you want us gone…” Gaz smiled, leaning over to lick your jaw.

“Gaz! You licked me!” You cringe a bit, unused to the custom.

Soap joined in, licking your neck. “Best get used to it, duck!”

“You're supposed to kiss on the lips.” You grumble half heartedly.

“Okay, okay duck come here.” Gaz pulled you into his arms smiling “Can I give ya a kiss?”

Nodding as Gaz pulls you into a gentle and chaste kiss. If felt like molton love pressing onto your lips. As Gaz pulls away you chase his lips. You sigh happily.

“That's what you are supposed to do..”

“Oh yeah?” Soap looked at you mischievously. “Like this?”

Soap pressed his lips to your mouth, he was an amazing kisser. He felt much more wild with his kiss. Soap then licked a stripe up your cheek. You push him off playfully. “Was that good duckie?”

“Alright you pups, lettem’ go.” Price gently scruffles the two men, looking at them with fond exasperation. “Gaz, If you are alright with it, in the next hour or so could you go talk to Simon? Me and Soap will keep an eye on duck, maybe take them into town to get them some nesting supplies…?”

Gaz nodded, looking a bit frustrated. “Simon needs to pull his head out of his ass..”

“Is Simon, Ghost?” You ask, looking between the men confused.

Leaning close to your ear, Soap’s breath fanned over your neck making you squirm a bit from the sensitivity “yup..” then he licked your neck again causing you to squeal.

“Soap!”

Pulling you both apart Gaz kissed the cheeks of you and Soap before pulling away to kiss Price on the cheek. “I’ll be back, I gotta knock some sense into that big wanker.” Gaz then left out the sliding glass door running back into the forest.

Soap took the distraction to flip you both so he was laying on top of you on the couch. He buried his face in the crook of your neck “You smell so good duckie..” sighing he melted against you “could do for a kip”

You and Soap laid comfortably on the couch for about 45 minutes before Price loomed over you both.

“Soap” Price rumbled, gently running his hands down both of your backs. “We need to get some things for their heat, and for duck’s den…”

Soap made a grumpy noise, wrapping his arms around you. “ah ken but-”

“Soa-”

“You could nap in my bed while me and Price go out?”

“But it wouldnae be warmmmmm.” Pouting, Soap made a sad noise as he snuggled against you more.

“I have a heated blanket?”

“A what?” Sitting up, Soap manhandled you into his lap again. He looked incredibly intrigued.

A spark of arousal lit through and before shaking it off you hum “It’s an electric blanket that has settings and stays fairly warm..” You look at Soap kindly “It used to help a bit when I had the implant in my arm..”

“Ooo” rubbing his eyes, Soap looked interested. “Would be nice..I’m always cold..”

Climbing out of his lap, you stand ready to get Soap into bed.

“You can do that or you can come help get some good treats for duck..” Price murmured slyly. “If not I’m sure me and duck can find 'em well enough, yeah?”

A conflicted look decorated Soap’s face, he did look exhausted and like he needed a nap but he really wanted to help.

Picking up on Soap’s exhaustion “Me and duck’ll wait on groceries so you can nap okay?” Price looked at Soap softly. In a fluid moment Price picked Soap up and brought him up to your room with you trailing close behind.

As soon as he was set on the bed and covered up with the blanket Soap was dead to the world, softly snoring as he fell asleep on his side.

“Alright duck, get dressed.” Patting your shoulder, Price walked down stairs.

You bush, remembering you were only wearing a thin robe. Quickly and quietly you toss on some comfy clothes and walk down stairs. Price was sitting at your kitchen table scrolling on his phone.

“Ready, duck?”

“”Yessir”

#werewolves #call of duty #mw2 #captain john price #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #john price x reader #simon riley x reader #kyle gaz x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mctavish x you #johnny mactavish x reader #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #a/b/o dynamics #angst

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that1nerd-20 · 10 days

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HOLY SHIT-- IM GOING FERAL!!! I just binged this entire thing and honestly all I'm thinking is I don't care how ugly this bastard is, I WANT HIM TO ABSOLUTELY DEMOLISH MY BACK, FUCK ME TILL I CANT WALK SIR.

PLEASE SIR

Sick <3

Zombie!Ghost x Survivor You ☢️🖤

Part 7: Ghost goes hunting. You both cross a line…oral M2F, he’s very dead, but so are you without him…

When you struggle downstairs, there’s a little bunch of wild flowers on the table. Blue and white, they looks so pretty, sat in a small vase.

“Oh you didn’t have to do that!”

You’re vaguely embarrassed about your clinginess. After all, Ghost has it worse. He’s dead and you’re still alive, what have you got to complain about realistically.

His white, clouded eyes alight on your smiling face, watching the happiness in your gaze as you take in his small gift. God it just makes him wild, how vividly perfect you are, all bright cheer and warm smiles.

Si’s voice coughs in his head, encouraging him to respond normally. Or as normally as possible.

So he grunts, spreading his long fingers over the table top, in what he hopes is a casual gesture.

You start to look through the cupboards. Most of it is out of date, but you manage to find a tin of beans hidden away in a dark corner.

Beans are not your favourite, but it is what it is.

Ghost watches you eating them out of the can with a spoon. You’ll need supplies, if you’re going to stay here. He huffs to get your attention, then stands up.

“Where are you going?” You ask him, through a mouth full of sickly tomato sauce.

Ghost tilts his head, like he wants to ask you to stop being so nosey, then trudges out at his odd rolling pace.

“When you get back you need a bath!” You shout at him, watching his departing shoulders roll with indignation.

After almost an entire day to yourself, you start to get restless. You feel slightly exposed without Ghost at your side, even though he doesn’t talk. You’ve been through so much together in the short time since you met.

When he finally rocks up, looking like a packhorse with various scrounged items of long life food and materials, you fight the urge to give him a hug.

There’s an odd moment between you, where you get halfway to flinging your arms around him and he awkwardly drifts closer. Then you pretend you were just going to help him with the goods.

Ghost presents you with a box of English teabags, like they’re a treasure, then settles down to look at an ancient map. It’s so old, the corners are yellow, he’s obviously stolen it from a picture frame somewhere.

Later, you wake to find the bed empty.

You’re dripping with slick, cunt aching. Since your nasty bite, it’s happened almost every night.

You’ve been having rabid dreams. Mainly centring around the man who’s now become central to your life. Even in your sleeping mind he’s cold, but it doesn’t scare you.

Quite the opposite.

Ghost sticks to you so closely most of the time, you might not get another chance in the near future.

Carefully, you move your shorts down and slip one hand under your panties. God it feels good, slow fingers massaging your swollen clit, cream leaking over your thighs.

You arch slightly off the bed, squirming under your own touch. Your knees drift apart, allowing more access, as you dip into your honeyed centre.

A tiny moan escapes your lips.

Ghost, in the woods behind the house, hears it.

Suddenly he’s out of control entirely, almost as badly as when he first turned. Every sinew is crying out, a clamouring chorus of want.

So much desire it’s painful, raking through his nearly empty veins and crippling any coherent thought.

Saliva starts to drop onto his tactical vest, fuelled by the smell of your dripping sex carried on the evening air.

Si’s voice is lost under the sound of your fingers touching that hot core. Without hesitation, his feet are carrying him back to the house, and there’s no way on earth he can stop them.

It’s carnal, his need to touch you, feel your wetness on his blue tinged fingers. His limp jaw lets groans and growls sputter freely from his throat.

He’s up the stairs and standing in your doorway in seconds. The heady smell of you is so potent, it feels like it’s scorching his icy skin.

You’re spread out so pretty, glistening as your hands work furiously.

Ghost’s shadow falls over the bed, utterly transfixed by the sight of you pleasuring yourself.

“Get out!” You shout at him, closing your legs and wriggling backwards. Your cheeks are glowing with embarrassment, as you chuck pillows at his frozen form.

But Ghost lets out a snarl unlike anything you’ve ever heard before, wrenching your knees apart and inhaling, like he’s taking his first breath after almost drowning.

His empty lungs expand with the scent of you. You try and kick him in the face, but he’s way too quick. Dragging your struggling form close to him.

“Stop it!” You whine, as the friction of the sheets beneath you rubs against your leaking pussy.

Eyes glassy, he holds you tight, jaw moving violently.

“Please!” The word is half formed, dry and hard forced out of his drooling mouth, not helped by his fractured face.

It’s frighteningly coherent though, a plea. His body is pulsing with electricity and you can feel it zapping against your skin. Something, very deep inside you, calls out to him on an unfamiliar level.

You stop struggling. Each of you just staring at the other.

“Please.” He begs again. “Please!”

He looks feral, more inhuman than ever, snow coloured eyes wild. But you don’t care. Your brain right now only wants one thing.

Him.

Heart pounding violently, you spread your legs.

Ghost, Si and the virus, all force him onto his knees in front of you, hands pressed into the mattress as his tongue darts out.

He starts to lap at you, drinking your nectar with savage energy. You squirm and writhe, as his chilled breath sends you hurtling towards an orgasm.

A cool drink on a hot day, his mouth calms the raging ache you’ve been dealing with for days.

Simon can’t remember the last time he ate pussy, but there’s no way on earth it was like this. It satisfies him, in a way that nothing else can or ever will. Even the tang of blood loses its lustre in comparison to your sweet surrender.

You’re panting, hands moving to his head to touch some part of him and ground yourself. Messily he circles your bud, flicking and kissing it until you can barely see straight.

As your fingertips caress his scalp, Ghost moans throatily, like he’s never felt anything like it. So you do it again, until the vibration of his voice snaps the tight coil building in your stomach.

When you cry out under his broken mouth, you gush. It’s like the most potent drug. Ghosts fingers drag through your folds, making you gasp with the chilling sensation of his pulseless digits.

“Please.” He slurs over and over again between your legs, revelling in the fact he can say a word. His broad tongue moves inside you, a stream of spit and your first release making the bed covers damp.

Ghosts hands press your own around his face, willing you to keep touching him. So soft and gentle, you feel the harsh line of what must have once been a strong jaw.

Feet resting on his back, he pulls more orgasms from your trembling body, inhaling them and savouring every whimper leaving your mouth.

He only stops eating you out, when you start to sob in earnest. So overstimulated it’s painful. The sound of your weeping, is like a brisk slap in the face.

Gradually Si’s voice starts battling through the lustful roar of the virus.

Shit.

You’ve both crossed a line, that can never be stepped back from.

Tags: @ashy-kit @cutiecusp @deadmarygolds @redbleedingrose @dustycrusty09 @darkangel4121 @smexysarah @cmbghost @silly-norman @sigrid666 @pxssygxblin @spicyspicyliving @itsyaboinoah-blog @misshugs @murder-hobo @sobbingnshtting

Not to force my music down your throats but this song is in my top ten forever

#sick <3 #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley headcanons #simon riley cod #simon “ghost” riley #simon riley #cod fic #cod smut #zombie ghost

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