#'wrong' [sign that looks exactly the fucking same to me as the one i did]

[larnax]

i think i could handle the horrors better if my asl teacher werent so smug. like girl you dont even have a dictionary. you dont even give us actual instructions on how the sign works. when i make scripts i have to screenshot every part of the sign bc you cant be fucked to put a reference outside of a video embedded in your hellish unusable college interface where rewinding is a fucking herculean task.AND you remove credit for the entire sentence if we make a single mistake AND you take forever to grade AND your corrections arent helpful bc you literally just say 'wrong' and then show the sign again when like i wouldnt have gotten it wrong if i wasnt having trouble with the sign. and then ON TOP OF ALL OF THAT you have the audacity to be smug about not giving us any lenience for late work and just link to "time management skills" resources. every assignment for this fucking class takes an hour to script three hours to film and six years off my life time management is not the issue

#c.paradisi #'wrong' [sign that looks exactly the fucking same to me as the one i did] #also like i do get asking us to have clean backgrounds but like i dont. have anywhere to do that. #i dont really have a choice but to have my camera in a weird position where its hard to capture the whole signing area #so i try to sign in the area thats most visible to the camera which is higher than normal #so shes like WRONG and keeps marking me down for signing too high when like if i do it in the right place it is off the fucking screen #also idk if youre telling us to never use an asl dictionary bc theyre full of mistakes #and then you keep giving me signs that a bunch of the other asl dictionaries say are wrong #how do i know YOURE not teaching me a weird dialect or outdated signs #yeah idk. i do suck at asl and im making very slow progress but im making even slower progress than i would otherwise

[ghouljams]

I just saw a tiktok where the caption was “pov: your situationship just kissed you in the forehead, said ‘I left you a backstrap in the fridge’, and left for work” and the videos is of the woman checking her fridge, seeing a piece of meat, and then looking like she’s reconsidering her whole life. My city slicker suburbs ass didn’t know this but apparently backstrap is the equivalent of beef tenderloin for hunters, each deer/elk has like 1-2 pieces so giving someone a backstrap is downright a marriage proposal.

I have no idea where this would fit into Ghost and Goose's relationship (definitely before they get together officially), or even if it would be (would Ghost hunt?) but all I can think about is Goose staring at the meat on the countertop when Duck walks in and is like "what's wrong?" and Goose just points to the backstrap and goes "Ghost gave me this." And now both of them are staring wordlessly at it when Price comes in and goes "what are you two gawking at?" and they both point at it and say in unison "Ghost left this." and now the whole family is staring at this declaration of undying love on the kitchen counter.

God the backstrap, I've seen that tiktok and that's the most beautiful cut of meat I've ever seen in someone's fridge.

I know I just made a post about Ghost being an animal guy and not hunting like a normal person, but I also think hunting is something he would take a lot of pride in. He likes the survivalist element, but he also likes the feeling of being a provider in a very primitive way. He went out and got food, killed it and butchered it himself, just for his little family. Anyway *throws fic at you*

"Left you somethin' in the fridge," Ghost tells you on his way out for the day. You give him a look of quiet confusion and he tips his hat a little lower over his eyes, not looking at you.

"It's not another frog is it?" You grimace, thinking of the last time you went gigging.

"One frog, one time," He grumbles, not bothering to answer you as he walks towards the stables. You sigh and go to clean up whatever mess he'd left. You wish he'd stop leaving things in the main house's fridge, if he wants to put live animals somewhere he should put them in his own damn house. You shiver remembering the frog you thought was dead leaping at you as soon as you'd opened the fridge door. You're not squeamish with cold blooded critters but that would scare the pants off anyone.

You brace yourself as you tug the communal fridge open. Nothing jumps at you, which is a good sign. You crouch down to sort through the contents for whatever Simon left and freeze. Sitting right in front on the top shelf, neatly covered with cling wrap, and a post it with a hastily scribbled out heart, is the most beautiful cut of meat you've ever seen. Brilliantly red and marbled. You tug it out to inspect, push your finger against the plastic film to check that it's actually meat. There's no fat, and the cut is a lovely sort of tenderloin. Where did Simon...

He went hunting recently. You remember the deer in the back of the truck, the marrow filled bone he'd tossed the dog. Jesus fucking Christ, you know exactly what this is. You quickly stuff it back in the fridge and slam the door to go get your mom.

You both stand in front of the open fridge as she inspects the meat. She stiffens, apparently coming to the same conclusion you did and forces the plate back into your hands.

"What is this boy doin' givin' you the best cuts off his venison?" She asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Momma, I swear to you I don't know," You carefully settle the backstrap back in the fridge. If your brain wasn't so stuck on the fact that Simon is the one who gave it to you, you might be cooking up recipes already.

"Where's your daddy, he needs to see this." She looks out the kitchen window, surveying the pasture for your father's horse. The last thing you need is her calling him in to see Simon's... declaration.

"No momma," You pull her back, "Momma please, you're gonna scare him off."

"I'm not scarin' anyone off, he's-" She gives you a look, her smile scrunched to one side and her brows drawn in confusion, "Baby, you think I'm gonna scare off the man giving you prime cuts from his hunt? Please-" She waves your concern off and you groan. It's not like he's proposing, you doubt Simon even- He probably doesn't even know he's giving you something the butcher won't even sell.

Actually how did he wrestle this away from the butcher? Usually the guy in town will pay through the nose for good venison. You've never seen a cut this clean from the usual guy though.

At least Simon has the good sense not to look startled that you're in his house at the end of the day. There is a sort of silent confusion around your cooking in his tiny kitchen, but he's nice enough to stay quiet as he goes to shower off the day's dirt. When he comes back he's smart enough to take a seat at the little round table, but just stupid enough to ask, "What's this?" When you set a plate in front of him.

"Backstrap," You glare at him, "with some veggies and potatoes. Why? What is it to you?"

Simon glances up at you, waiting for you to elaborate on this line of questioning. You know he doesn't like these games. You sigh and drop down into the seat across from him, he crosses his arms and leans back in his chair.

"Why're you giving me the best cut?" You ask, trying not to sound like you're expecting anything.

"What'm I suppose to do with it?" He responds.

"Didn't the butcher offer to buy it off of ya?"

"Didn't go to the butcher," He tells you evenly. You stare at him. This fucking- God you could wring his neck. He killed a deer, went through the trouble of butchering it himself, and he still gave you the best cut. All the work just to- to-

You press your hands against your face with a groan.

"Ghost."

"Princess." His low rumble makes you shiver, how pleased he sounds to have caught you off guard...

"You know my momma thinks we're gonna get married now," You tell him through your fingers. He hums, and you hear the click of his silverware as he starts eating. Done with the conversation apparently. You truly hate how much you love this man. He's going to be the death of you.

God but what a way to go.

#x reader #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #x oc #simon ghost riley x reader #cod x oc #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #simon riley cod #simon ghost riley x oc #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost cod #ghost x oc #oc: goose #cowboy!ghost #oc: duck #hi duck!!! #Ghost you fucking menace of a man #he's gonna marry you Goose watch out #cowboy au

[abbyromanoff]

YOU’LL ALWAYS BE MINE

PAIRINGS: Wanda Maximoff x reader

WORD COUNT: 2,475

WARNINGS: angst, cheating, divorce, depression, fluff, mind manipulation, the hex being created, pregnancy, kinda dark, think that’s all :)

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

Wanda hummed as the flavors hit her taste buds, her eyes directed at you as she smiled warmly.

“How do you like the dinner, sweetheart?” You grinned beneath the fork inside your mouth, instantly returning your lips back to a thin line when her eyes left you.

“Well, I hope you’d like it, I spent many hours prepping this.” She chuckled, giving your hand a squeeze from across the table. You still didn’t utter a word, she was growing concerned.

“What’s wrong, baby?” You shrugged, nervously playing with your food as you bit the inside of your cheek, a habit you started and failed to stop, much to Wanda’s liking.

“C’mon, you can talk to me, that’s what I’m here for.” You looked up, noticing her intense gaze that showed she knew exactly what you were going to say.

“You still haven’t signed the papers.” Her body tensed, her eyes shutting as she sighed. Her hand balled into a tight fist as she continued to eat. She could see you were lacking the ring on your finger, the sight making her want to crawl into a corner and cry her eyes out. There was no way out of this, she realized, so she had to make one.

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

“My fucking God, Wanda,” You slammed your hands down, standing as you paced urgently. She refused to look, instead finding her meal all the more interesting.

“You’re pathetic, you know that? You can’t sign some fucking papers, really? This marriage has been ruined the moment you slept with that tramp.” The realization made her throat tighten, tears nearly ready to spill from her loopy eyes.

“I told you it was a mistake, it meant nothing-”

“That doesn’t stop the fact that it happened, Wanda! Do you think it’s easy for me to have to live here daily? To see you and constantly be reminded of what you did? I worked so hard to even convince myself I was worthy of you, and you go and do this?” She cowered down, wiping her hands on the small cloth in her lap while you stared at her, nostrils flared and eyebrows furrowed.

“I’m sorry-”

“Sorry doesn’t fix what you did-”

“God, will you let me fucking speak?” She yelled, growing frustrated with the constant interruption. You didn’t refute, instead placing your hands on your hips as you waited for her voice to return.

“I told you, I was drunk and she looked so much like you. We were fighting, I was upset, you were too, so I went out and got wasted to the point I could barely walk. I saw her there and I…I let her take me home, but when I woke up I- I realized what I did and I knew I fucked up.”

“Yeah, you did.” You already heard the story before, the same one that haunted you in your dreams. You imagined someone else being able to hear the moans she promised were only for you, it made you violently ill.

“I made a promise to you, and I plan to keep it. I will never, and I mean never, touch a drink again. I won’t even look in another woman’s direction because I don’t need to when I have my wife right in front of me. My perfect, breathtaking, loving wife that I care for so much.” She wrapped her arms around your waist as she dropped to her knees, placing her forehead against your thigh.

“Please, baby, I don’t know how many times I have to apologize before you forgive me, but I’ll continue to tell you for the rest of my life.” She placed small kisses against the covered skin, feeling the warmth that you supplied, the same warmth that brought her comfort at night. Now it brought her shame and guilt, but she’d rather carry that burden for the rest of her life than lose you for even a moment.

“I don’t want to have to be reminded of what you did for the rest of my life, Wanda. I’m constantly having someone down my ear telling me how terrible you are, and how I should never forgive you. For fucks sake, even our friends have told me to leave you! How am I going to look them in the eye again knowing all they see is someone who’s too gullible to even leave their cheating wife?” You sobbed, and the look on your face only brought misery to the woman. You seemed so lost, so exhausted, and she was the cause.

“I know, I know, and none of this is fair to you, and I’m so sorry I caused this-”

“Stop saying sorry. Please, I can’t do this.” You begged, your voice cracking as you drew more emotions.

“But I mean it! I never want you to feel like I don’t want you because I want you more than anything. I need you, Y/N, I need you in my life.” It was true, she didn’t know how to properly function without you. You were the only one who kept her going, you were the one who held her when she felt like she couldn’t stand. When she was ready to give up, she had you holding her back. Without you, she’d be nothing.

“You say you need me, but you don’t consider what I need. And what I need is for you to let me go, and sign the papers.” You wanted to give in, to fall into her embrace and let her make it up to you. But you couldn’t, your mind would never let you forget the scene you walked in on. And maybe you’d still remember it vividly without her, but at least you wouldn’t have to be in the exact place it happened with the person who did it. At least you could move on and find someone who wouldn’t hurt you like this, intoxicated or not.

“No- no, I won’t do it.” Tear stains painted your shirt from where her head rested, you knew you’d have to throw this out sooner than later.

“Wanda, please, just do it.” You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing yourself to ignore her pleas.

“But-”

“I’m begging you, Wanda. If you truly loved me, you’d want me to be happy.” She rushed towards you when you tried to escape her tight hold.

“You’re happier with me-”

“I can’t be happy with you, not when I can’t stop thinking about what you did. It ruined me, Wands, and it continues to haunt me every breathing moment.” The nickname brought a crack to her rotting heart. Her body felt like it was decaying the more you pulled away and the more she tried to hold on.

“You’re going to sign the papers. And then I’ll be gone. This is best for the both of us, you’ll learn to live without me.” She felt as though she was going to be sick, why were you still denying her? She couldn’t let you go. No, she couldn’t.

You leaned down to her level, moving the hair that covered her face out of the way. You cupped her cheeks, smiling sadly as her sobs caused her hands to shake lightly. She reached out hopefully, copying your action and bringing herself closer.

“Can I- can I have one last kiss, at least?” You looked down, sighing as you shook your head before returning her gaze.

“If I kiss you, I don’t think either of us will be able to stop.”

“That’s not a bad thing, is it?” You chuckled, and it felt like music to her ears. She smiled warmly, even though her chest tightened and her breath cut short.

“I love you, Wanda, I always will. Maybe we were just never meant to be, and that’s okay. But if I don’t let you go now, I’ll never be able to be happy.” But you could’ve been meant to be, she realized. You could’ve been the best, most loving couple. Your kids would’ve grown up in a healthy, safe household full of love. But that all came to an end when that night left her hopeless, she pleaded with God constantly to rid her actions but they were never heard.

“I love you too, Y/N, and I want you to be happy, I just wish I could’ve been the reason.”

“You were.” The past tense was what caused her body to crash into yours. She lost all control as your arms brought her a sense of comfort she lacked for so long.

“I’m sorry I failed you.”

In a few months, the divorce was being settled and you officially moved out. You had been staying with a friend for some time, and she was more than happy to help you out. She had been in a similar situation before, so it was clear what she had to do when she saw you standing on her front porch. Wanda thought she would be able to see you when you would gather your stuff from her place, but a multitude of your friends went instead, all of them giving glares to the older woman as she refused to look at the empty home. It seemed wrong without your stuff here, and all she had were pictures of the two of you that she couldn’t remove.

She felt hopeless as time progressed, and the lack of messages or calls from you only made time move slower. Every day felt like a decade as she failed to execute basic human needs. She often struggled to get out of bed or brush her teeth, and now it’s been two days since she last showered. She wondered how you were, she hoped you weren’t in such a horrid state like herself. But a part of her also hoped you were, just so she knew you still cared.

Eventually, it all became too much. She hadn’t slept in her bed in over a year, the constant reminder that another laid where you once were disgusted her. The couch had become her home, but even the couch seemed to shame her. Her favorite movies didn’t feel the same without you laughing with her. The sitcoms she loved so much now annoyed her; she had changed completely, and it was all her fault.

She couldn’t hold it back anymore, she broke. Her small, empty home in the town of Westview became full once again. She didn’t know what happened. One moment she was sobbing uncontrollably while huddling close to the stuffed animal she had won for you on your first date, then the plain walls filled with hope. Her heart slowly gained a beat, and her hands felt warm again. She stood in front of a door, her fist finding the wood and creating a small knock.

“It’s open!” She heard, and she stopped in her tracks. It was you, it was your angelic voice that was slowly fading from her mind. She gulped fearfully before twisting the knob, letting her legs take control as she stepped forward.

“Love, you’re home!” You greeted with a smile, turning to face her as Wanda’s eyes fell on the toddler being held in your arms. She had the same hair as Wanda, and while it wasn’t easy to spot from so far away, she could see her green, piercing eyes looking back at her. The child giggled and pointed her chubby finger her way, causing a smile to break out on her face.

“Everything alright, sweetie?” You asked when she didn’t move, her mouth agape and her hands nearly releasing the briefcase she held.

“Yes…everything is just perfect, my love.” She mustered out, rushing towards your figure and embracing you in a tight hold. The replica of her was left with a small kiss to her forehead before she took her into her arms, blowing raspberries on her exposed tummy. Alana giggled again, and it felt like Wanda’s ear would explode. She felt like she was dreaming, only this wasn’t the nightmare she fought with every night. No, this time you were here to cure her.

“Momma!” She heard from a distance, seeing a young boy running to greet her. He hugged her leg tightly, causing Wanda to stumble before she leaned down, ruffling his hair before she gave him a small side hug, the baby in her arms restricting her from embracing him as much as she wanted to.

“Hey, kiddo! How was your day?”

“It was amazing! Me, Mommy, and Alana made dinner!” She gasped, showing her appreciation towards the excited boy before he ran off to the kitchen as she requested. He was still too young to carry his little sister, so she continued to do so.

“And hello to you, my sweet baby.” Wanda placed a small kiss against your stomach, placing her hand against the bump and rubbing her thumb in small, soothing circles.

“Have they been giving you any trouble today?” She asked, resulting in a small sigh from your end.

“They’ve been kicking all day. I swear, if they’re not professional soccer players, I don’t know what else they’ll do.” Wanda laughed before leaving multiple pecks to your lips, grasping your hand in hers before leading you to the kitchen.

“Well, it’s only a few more months until they’ll be out of you, I know you can do it.” You stopped in your tracks, eyeing her and causing the taller woman to stall. Nobody wanted to see you angry, especially when you were pregnant.

“First of all, I don’t see you carrying two demons in your stomach, so I’d shut up if I were you. And, second of all, this is the third time I’m doing this, you are no longer allowed to go without a condom.” She placed her hand on her chest as if she was offended and you grinned, leaving a kiss on her cheek before walking through the kitchen door where your son laid out all the dishes for you four. You thanked him before he climbed onto his seat, still finding himself to be too short for the chairs you had. Wanda placed your daughter in the high chair before taking the seat next to her. You noticed her smiling large, her eyes being filled with more joy than usual.

“What’s got you all happy?” She admired the scene in front of her, Pietro Jr and Alana sitting peacefully, both of them sharing the genes she was blessed with. Her partner, smiling back at her while they carried her twins, she couldn’t have asked for anything more.

“Oh, nothing, I’m just thinking about how lucky I am to have all of you.” You blushed, tilting your head slightly as you bit your lip.

“Well, that’s never going to change, sweetheart.” ‘I’ll make sure of it’, she thought.

#wanda maximoff oneshot #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fic #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff comfort #wanda maximoff x reader smut #wanda maximoff x reader angst #wanda maximoff x gender neutral reader #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x reader fluff #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x f!reader #dark!wanda maximoff #dark wanda maximoff #dark wanda x reader

[romanoffsbish]

Clandestine Meetings

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!R

Prompts / Request

 “Go and lock the door for me.  I don’t want anyone to walk in while I’m balls deep.”

 “Go get one of your toys.  Let’s make this even better.”

“Is that gonna fit?”  “I’ll make it fit.”

Warnings: Jealousy, Emotionally Stunted Natasha

Smut: Natasha has a penis, Daddy(N), Detka/Whore(R), Nipple Clamps, Vibrating Egg, Oral(R), Unprotected Sex/Breeding, Choking, Edging/Teasing, Orgasm Denial.

18+ | Minors DNI

"I want love Nat, you just want a quick fuck."

The words you whispered to her over a month ago have been bouncing around her mind the entire time, plaguing her very soul. It got to the point where while away on her mission she couldn't even focus on the objective anymore.

Who were you to just come to a conclusion like that without so much as a conversation?

——

Not a, "Nat, we need to talk," or a "I'm not sure we want the same things Nat, correct me if I'm wrong here," and she would've corrected you. Because you were so far off base, all Natasha wanted was to love you, she just didn't know how to do that outside of worshipping you in deeply passionate moments that usually ended just as fast as they began, and left you alone.

Now here you lay on the compounds couch in your sleep shorts, a sight the redhead would love to see every morning in her own room. Waking up beside you would be a dream new experience, potentially challenging, but she knows that she'd grow to love the situation.

Natasha already loved you—desperately so.

The only obstacle here had been her inability to make her loving intentions clear to you. She'd always been a bit more on the vulgar side, and you seemed into it for awhile, but one random night you shoved her away and that was just it.

As soon as she figured herself out, she was going to make things right with you. But there was apparently a new obstacle, because right now your head was settled into another's lap.  Carol was listening to you ramble on while mindlessly stroking your cheek. Natasha envied the blonde's ability to offer such an intimate moment without any real effort.

When she saw how much the woman enjoyed your presence she felt her heart shattering into tiny, jagged pieces. With her jaw clenched she rushed out of the kitchen and went straight to her room where she allowed a stray tear to fall. Then she reached for her phone, and sent you a text message: Meet me in my room in 5 !

Carol smiled down at you knowingly when she heard the ding of your phone, "I told you to go after her Y/N, she didn't seem very pleased."

"Yeah, and I don't give a fuck," you huffed, arms crossing over your chest, and the blonde cackled wildly at the sign of faux indifference before she returned to a more serious state.

"Y/N, ever since she's been gone all you've done is mope around this place, but oh look, the day she's back you suddenly appear before me with a sunny disposition and expect me not to see right through it? Answer her text and maybe even go get laid, you're insufferable."

"Carol," you groaned, hands flying to your face to hide the mortification in your eyes at the brutal call out, "She doesn't want me," you pouted, "at least not in the way I want her to."

"Did she say that?" Carol asks while lazily drawing circles on your shoulder to calm you.

"She didn't have to say it out loud..."

"Oh Y/N," she tilted your head so you would be facing her, she caressed your cheek then spoke, "Natasha isn't exactly known for expressing her feelings in ways that make sense, so how about you put your big girl pants on, and force her to say the words she couldn't manage to before."

You huffed while glaring up at her, knowing she was right, but in the same breath you snatched your phone up, and read the message while rolling your eyes, a bitter chuckle leaving you as you saw the song that happened to have been softly playing at the time of arrival.

After a moment of soul searching you took off to her bedroom in a frenzied ball of nerves. Entering her space felt both comfortingly familiar, and extremely uneasy. Seeing her sat on the bed in sweats with her legs manspread, leaning back on her exposed muscular arms as she wore a cami without a bra you felt your body tingle with need, and your mouth go dry.

With a sly smirk, and a crook of her finger you made your way further into the room, but she left you to be blanketed in an awkward silence. It was clear she didn't actually expect you to be here, and now that you were she was weighing out her options, but just like usual, she was not able to articulate the right words like: I missed you, I love you, or please, don't leave again...

"Go and lock the door for me. I don't want anyone to walk in while I'm balls deep," the redhead commanded dryly, and though the thought of her inside you alone nearly brought you to your knees, you rolled your eyes instead and went to hurriedly walk away again.

Natasha ran after you, catching you by the wrist to prevent you from leaving, "Y/N, stop doing this okay," she pinched the bridge of her nose, and softly sighed, "I don't know how to do all of this, vulnerability isn't my strong suit, okay? Just let me show you instead..."

You furrowed your brows, and she sighed exasperatedly, "Give me a chance, please."

Saying no to her would be in vain, because it was all you wanted to finally be beneath her, so you nodded without really much hesitation.

Natasha leaned in to kiss you, the first time in your whole arrangement that she'd done it with any semblance of care present. Normally it's all teeth clashing, and tongues sloppily gliding over the other while she brought you to bliss.

Up until now Natasha has only ever offered you quick moments, with only her hands or mouth diligently bringing you over that glorious edge. Never had she actually shown you tenderness, but more importantly, she had yet to fuck you with the bulge poking you through her pants.

Natasha wasn't ready to give you all of her, it was actually something she'd never done with another person that she loved before. She's screwed girls before, usually as a means to an end, with their faces smushed into a mattress, but she couldn't bring herself to do it with you. No matter how desperate she was for release after hearing and seeing you come undone for her, or how prettily you'd beg to help her out each time, she just couldn't cross that line.

But now, she knew it was all she could do to make sure you understand, that you feel her in every sense possible, and feel her love for you.

"Na-Natasha," breathlessly you stuttered out her name as your hips reflexively canted into hers, "I need you daddy, please, fill me up."

Natasha groaned, pulling away from your lips she smirked devilishly, you could see the flicker of mischief in her gaze as she leaned down to suck a mark onto your smooth skin, "Go get one of your toys. Let's make this even better."

The knob twisted in her hands this time, she watched in amusement as you scurried across the hall to your room in your mussed up state.

"Look at how desperate you already are detka," she slammed you back into the door as soon as you crossed the threshold, the door slammed close with the impact and you moaned weakly.

Surveying the items in your hands she softly chuckled, "Oh, you're in for it now Y/N, gonna give you all of me so you can finally understand what my true intentions with you are."

This time when she kissed you it was with a bit of urgency, her hands contrastingly gripped your hips softly, and without ever breaking the kiss she walked your body over to the mattress. Natasha lowered you down gently, and as she rose back up she collected the nipple clamps and the vibrating bullet from your hands.

"May I?" Natasha gestured to your body, and you smiled gratefully, no matter how quickly she usually took you, she'd always been keen on hearing consent. "Please, do it already."

The sleep clothes were quickly discarded, and her lips latched onto your risen buds instantly. Her tongue rolled around your nipple slowly, causing your breath to shallow as you were overrun with pleasurable anticipation. After a moment she released your nipple with a pop, giving you only seconds to adjust to the chill on your wetted skin before she attached a clamp.

Natasha caught your hand before it could mindlessly tug the clamp off, "It's okay detka," she shushed you softly, tenderly smiling down at you as she slid her fingers between yours, "You're okay," she gently brushed her lips over your knuckles before laying your interlocked hands on top of the mattress. A whimper left you as you were overrun with a overdue sense of comfort from her, then you were moaning when her lips returned to your heated skin.

"I'm going to ruin you Y/N," she growled around your other nipple before she bit into the hypersensitive skin, "No one will ever touch you again after I leave a mark on what's mine."

"Say it," she growled as she hovered over you, but before you could even try she was clamping your sore bud, effectively making you wince.

"Oh shit," you gasped when she gave the chain a harsh tugging to ensure it was properly attached, the accompanying pain was dizzying.

"I asked you to say something," she leered over you, hand now wrapped around your throat in a way that not only intimidated you but left you absolutely dripping onto her expensive sheets.

Natasha watched your brainless eyes searching for a response, it took you a minute, but you were finally about to open your mouth, but all that came out was a lewd moan as she pressed the vibrating egg into your slicked up cunt.

"Come on now detka, you know I don't like to be made to wait," she tightened her hand around your throat, something that only ever adds to your pleasure, and she knew that, it was honestly her favorite, slowly draining the life from you as she brought your body to euphoria, only to spare you in the last second.

She was a bit of a sadist. You didn't mind...

Something about that control was exhilarating, seeing your eyes grow hazier with every second as you harshly choked never failed to make her cock twitch. Maybe it was the underlying way in which you trusted her to never go too far, it had her overwhelmed with unwavering joy.

After allowing you a moment of pure bliss she deemed it enough, so she tore it away from you, ripping the vibe out of you and watching in amusement as your eyes filled with tears, and your lip was now caught between your teeth, "Daddy no, please, I-I was so close."

Your whimpering always affected her greatly, she gets off to the memory of you begging all the time, so it's no surprise to her that her cock was painfully straining against her boxers.

"Whores that forgot how to speak don't get to cum!" Natasha spat, the underlying tone full of pain telling you she meant more than in this moment, your constant distancing hurt her.

"Natty," you tried to apologize, but she only grew angrier, her hand harshly gripped your face, and she hovered over you with a furious gaze, you hated to admit it but it sent a pang of arousal down to your already dripping cunt, "That's not my fucking name slut, try again."

"Daddy," you whimpered, and she softened momentarily as she leaned in to kiss your lips, "Better, but I no longer want to hear you, so lets shut that pretty brain of yours off," she pecked your lips once more before her lips trailed down your body in quick succession.

The sound of buzzing as she now faced your cunt left you with widened eyes, this new dynamic was throwing you off honestly. So used to a quick release this newfound joy of hers spurring from teasing you was alarming. You began to wonder if the loveless sex was better, but deep down you knew it wasn't, especially when she edged you so deliciously.

Natasha held the vibe just out of reach of your clit, a test of sorts that she wanted you to fail. "Daddy's gonna get a taste now detka," she murmured against the lush skin of your thighs as she moved to further mark her territory.

After minutes of torture, where she barely swiveled the egg over your bundle of nerves you finally caved and canted your hips up. Natasha bit harshly into your thigh, blaming you for moving as she moved to hover over your face, "There's a time and a place for your pleasure, and this isn't it, now stay still Y/N!"

"Sorry daddy," you sniffled wetly, drawing her back out of her lust driven haze, and the sight of you so broken was honestly picturesque, it brought a lopsided smirk to her plump lips.

Natasha usually moved only to please you, but in this moment, she wanted you desperate. So needy, hopelessly dependent upon her touch, this way you'll never look for anyone else again. Looking into your eyes now she saw that was already your truth, you were so lost in the pleasure that she was hardly giving, "It's okay detka, you know daddy will take care of you."

Natasha kissed you until you were breathless, then when you were reduced to a heaving mess she returned to your thighs, she placed a few soft kisses there before finally diving into you.

With the vibrator pressed firmly into your clit, and her tongue deep inside you it was all you could do to make a mess of her face, a scream of pleasure echoed off her walls, and Natasha pulled back with an accomplished smile. The sight of her as your slick was dripping down her chin made your body shiver, that unraveled coil started to retighten, and your hazy eyes slammed shut as you tried to calm down.

Natasha teasingly rutted her hips into yours, you could feel her straining against her boxers when she stilled, and you couldn't help but to squirm when she made no move to fuck you.

Natasha chuckled as she felt your desperation, she softly continued to push her sizable bulge down against your slit, the irritating fabric separating your sexes actually brought you a slice of pleasure when it grazed over your clit. It would never be enough though, your hips began to jerk up to meet hers, desperation fueling you, and Natasha could feel it wholly.

She truly loved teasing you, feeling the way your aromatic slick soaked through her boxers, it only became too much for her once you were whining pitifully in her ear, making her twitch without reprieve, so without much warning she jumped up, leaving you to cry at the loss of friction, but the protests died on your tongue when you saw her dick spring free, it was huge.

"Is that gonna fit?" you visibly gulped, wide eyes watching as the tip of her cock hit her abdomen as she slowly sauntered over to you with an obnoxiously hot smirk overtaking her face as she hovered over you, "I'll make it fit."

Her lips pressed to yours, instinctually yours parted, Natasha's tongue slid into your mouth as her tip pushed passed your entrance, and you latched onto her tongue as you moaned. A shiver ran down the redheads spine when your walls simultaneously squeezed her thick shaft making it near impossible for her to fill you up.

The way that your warmth enveloped her cock made her fearful that she'd bust without even thrusting as she bottomed out, "Fuck, you feel so good Y/N, you're taking me so well detka."

Her hand sought yours out for grounding, and when you felt her interlock her fingers with yours again your eyes fluttered open to see her deepened green pair staring back into yours. The eye contact was intense, and arousing, but incredibly hard to keep when you felt her begin to thrust slowly, and relatively deeply into you.

"Keep em open," Natasha panted, your eyes slowly fluttered back open, fighting against the insurmountable pleasure, "Wanna see you."

It was a struggle, but you somehow managed to keep your eyes partially open for the ferocious women pounding into you with strong hips. The brutal pace she set was building you up quick, you never knew how much you needed her until now, she felt too good, the way she stretched you out left you gasping, and with every thrust her bulbous tip drove you wild.

With her hand in yours, and eyes locked you were overwhelmed by a love you were truly convinced didn't exist. The one that pulsed inside you the closer she got to her release, the love she needed verbally reciprocated to finish, "Say it detka," Natasha whispered breathlessly just as she twitched inside of you, "Please..."

"I'm yours Nat," you dopily confirmed with an amused tone, the moment was however short lived as a scream was torn from your throat, your eyes rolled to the back of your head as she let go inside of you, hot spurts of white filled your womb to the brim, and your body trembled without reprieve. "I-I need you Y/N, please don't leave me again, I'll do better..."

"Nat," you managed to squeak out her name in between your pants, "If you don't run, I won't."

"I'll never run again detka," she pressed her lips to your cheek, then trailed them down until she was resting in the crook of your neck, "I promise, we'll learn how to love together."

"Oh, I know how to love," you teased with a deliberate clenching of your walls, "Shit Y/N."

You flipped your positions before she could even recover, harshly grinding down against her as you did, did the trick when you could feel the way her cock hardened once more.

"It's my turn to show you," you winked, and the redhead smirked, a long drawn out sigh leaving her lips as you began to grind down into her.

———

3,075 Words

❤️ Kaitlyn 😏

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff pov #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha x fem!reader #gxg #black widow #black widow smut

[glitterjay]

ー picnic date

minors dni

jake x fem!reader

warnings public sex, pet names, fingering (reader receiving)

for @magyuhye <3

you were in your room, looking at your self in the full sized mirror in front of you. your boyfriend jaeyun had proposed a picnic date, and asked you to wear the prettiest dress you could find in your closet. you stood there admiring the flower pattern that went perfectly with the nice weather, and how it revealed just enough skin.

without thinking too much, you got yourself a nice water bottle downstairs, and waited for your boyfriend to arrive. soon enough, you heard keys jingling right outside your door. you boyfriend revealed himself as soon as the door opened, showing you that peculiar smile that accompanied him all the time. “you ready?”

on the way to the park, jake kept repeating just how amazing you looked, and how you were all his. the compliments never failed to make you feel extremely pretty, and also make your heat throb. your hand rested in the gear stick with his hand right on top. you loved that no matter what, jaeyun always kept contact.

~

you guys arrived at the beautiful park and settled down. the colors of the wonderful green grass and the tall trees went perfectly with the colors of your dress. jake sat himself right next to you, hand on your thighs at all times. you both giggled at random things, and admired the view before you.

as you watched some kids the birds eating a few feet away from where you were sitting, you felt something move under your dress. you looked down and realized your boyfriend’s hand was moving dangerously close to your heat, which was not a good sign considering you missed him. a lot.

“whats wrong, love?” jake asked, knowing exactly what he was doing. you simply shook your head, afraid your voice would betray you and crack if you spoke. he smiled at your actions, moving his hand in a blunt movement, making contact with your core. you couldn’t help but squirm a little, putting a hand over your mouth to stop any noise from being too loud.

this gave jaeyun the queue to slide your underwear to the side, caressing your folds with his finger. he covered your legs with another blanket he had brought in advance, this being his plan all along. “your legs must be cold, am i right? the breeze is a little chilly today” he pushed just the tip of his slender finger into you, teasing. he leaned in, nibbling your earlobe before speaking again “you look so pretty when you’re embarrassed”

you could feel your face turn even redder than it already was. you held onto his shoulder, hiding your face there. “j-jaeyun, don’t do this to me”. he giggled at your words, carefully inserting his full digit slowly into you. this made you bite his shoulder in response, scared of being way too loud and getting caught. “careful there, darling.”

he continued moving his finger, picking up the pace with every thrust. your entire world felt dizzy. you didnt know if the birds in your field of vision were real or part of your imagination. jake cooed at your fucked out expression. he decided to be a little bold, and with a smooth movement, he was hovering over you. with this new position, he was more free, and so, he added another finger.

you bit your lip, reminding yourself that you’re still in a public place. to some people, it might’ve looked like you both were playing. little did they know you were about to come undone right there and then.

“can- can’t hold it anymore”

your boyfriend smiled big, knowing damn well he was the one doing all of that. he wanted to take the blanket off of you, he wanted you to cry and scream his name at the fop of your lungs, he wanted everyone to know HE was the cause of such pleasure, but he held himself.

“go ahead, love. cum for me”

the pet name was enough to throw you over the edge, hand flying to your mouth to muffle your moans and cries. body left shaking at the adrenaline, embarrassment, and pleasure you felt at the same time. he left a kiss on your forehead, sitting straight on your side again, leaving you laying on your back. “fuck baby, we might have to go home soon and deal with this other problem.”

© glitterjay | tumblr

hello! one of two things here. first of all, i know today is october 2nd. i missed the first day, so i will be posting twice today. second, i suck at writing long scenarios so i apologize for that. if yall do like it tho, feel free to request more scenarios for other enha members (besides ni-ki and sunoo) in my ask! help this poor soul, i won’t be able to come up with things all on my own for the whole month

#— ✿ c's work! #kpop #kpop smut #enhypen #enhypen smut #jake #enhypen jake #sim jaeyun #sim jake #jake smut #jaeyun smut

[enditen]

birds of a feather

summary: a bit of understandable anger toward your fiancé for— in your eyes— unwise decisions leads to hurt feelings and avoidance. thankfully, the two of you come back together in the most interesting of places.

word count: 4090ish.

rating: m

warnings: public sexual acts. talk of death ( rooster's, goose's and carole's ). angst. two adults being stubborn fools. talk about breasts. talk about ruining hawaiian shirts and dress whites. kind of playing around with naval deployments and what not.

pairing: bradley ( rooster ) bradshaw x female reader ( callsign vulture )

author's note: hi, first fic in this fandom that was simply supposed to be hot titty fucking with a title of a tit for a cock and then turned into 4k of angst then some titty fucking. some of you might recognize me from another fandom on here on tumblr to which if you do, hi y'all. also i feel like i missed tags and i'm sorry about that. assuming i write more for this because i've gotten over my nervousness i'll learn. and special thanks to @blurredcolour for being a little cheerleader

You’re beginning to wonder if there’s just something about Maverick that just turns everyone around him a bit stupid. You like to think that most of the team surrounding your fiancé aren’t idiots and yet there you were being proven completely wrong as you listened to Bradley explain what exactly had happened on the mission.



“That’s not what he meant when he said don’t think!” You remembered screaming into the phone, knowing fully well that while Mav was his own special brand of stupid- and deliriously lucky he wasn’t the same level of pure unadulterated idiocy Bradley was displaying.

“It worked out!” Was somehow his raspy defense and it had taken all your self control to not hang up the phone right then and there, the sheer unmitigated aggravation seeping through your pores As it stood, what you did end up doing was letting out the world’s most put upon sigh as you rolled your eyes.



“You’re just lucky Mav didn’t have to bury another bird.” At Rooster’s sharp inhale you started to speak again. “I didn’t mean it— I’m just—”



“No. I get it, Vulture,” he spat out your callsign, a definite sign that he’s pissed and you had struck a nerve you honestly shouldn’t have right in that moment before you heard something in the background. “You don’t have to come get me, I’ll get home fine.”



The silence after he hung up feels almost as all consuming as the idea of him dying was.

It’s always been a thing that when one of you comes back from deployment or from a mission or from visiting friends who are stationed somewhere else that you pick one another up. Some of your friends call it silly, but for you and Rooster it works. You’ve always wanted to be together all the time but at the same time— when opportunities present themselves you’ve never been the type to ignore them. Hell, even if you wanted to, the other one would just argue against ignoring the opportunity. That’s why you found yourself here, waiting for Rooster to come back from what should have been a mission he didn’t come back from. What was almost a mission he didn’t come back from. You wonder if this is how his mom felt with his father and if the reason she never wanted him to become a pilot like this is to avoid anyone else having her fate. You see Rooster walking with Hangman and are about to lean out of the car to tell him to get his ass in the car before he sees you through your windshield. The look he gives you is one of aggravation and hurt that you’ve so rarely seen on his face that it practically pins you to your seat in the car. You've seen those brown eyes look at you with so much love and you've made jokes comparing them to warm chocolate more than once but in this moment— all they do is remind you of a hardened and unbreakable tree.



He shakes his head before turning to keep talking to Hangman, laughing at some probable dumb joke the man said and you swear your stomach drops through the floor of the car. You hadn’t thought he was serious about not wanting you to come get him and here he was getting into someone else’s car to go— home? Maybe, or maybe he was going to crash on Hangman’s couch or find— no. No, for all that Rooster was angry with the slip of your tongue he would never cheat on you. He loves you in a way that makes other people sick and makes Maverick and Penny tell you that yeah, you kind of remind them of his dad and Carole.



Still, he’s never been this angry at you and that terrifies you in ways that you can’t put into words. You’ve flown dangerous missions that didn’t terrify you as much as the look on Rooster’s face did right in that moment. After what feels like hours, but is only really ten minutes you pull out of the area you were parked in and head home. You don’t realize Hangman hasn’t left and that Rooster watches you leave from his side of the truck. 



“She couldn’t have done anything that bad, man.” Jake tries to reason as he puts the truck in reverse. 



“You don’t know her like I do," he scoffs, shaking his head and slipping on his aviators. "I forgot why she’s called Vulture. Just— Just drive.”

You suppose it's a mercy that you see Rooster the next morning, making coffee as if he didn't break your tradition with one glance through a car windshield. Suppose you should be thankful he's back home and in your kitchen and not back home in a casket, but you've never been one to allow yourself simple pleasures like that when you're hurt. When your heart's twisted into the version of itself that only releases anger and toxic fumes to push away everyone you hold dear.



That anger has your mouth moving before your brain can catch up and make you see sense. All you know is that the man you love hasn't said one word to you since that phone call and he's only making one cup of coffee and not two. Another tradition broken and you can only see red.



"Are you ignoring me?" You ask the moment he turns around, sipping his coffee without seemingly a care in the world.



Bradley isn't necessarily the more verbose out of the two of you, but he's never particularly short with you. Today is the exception, much like everything about the past two days.



"No." A pause as he sets down his coffee cup and you see a bit of coffee clinging to his upper lip and that stupid little mustache you've grown to love over the years. "Maybe."



"Maybe," you parrot, moving over to where he's standing and watching as he moves just far enough away to allow you to grab your own cup and your own specific pod to make your coffee. "You nearly die, I say something stupid and now you're acting like a moody teenager. Cute, Roo."



Roo. Not even Rooster and certainly not his name because he certainly doesn't deserve it in this moment. You watches as his eyes drift over your body, noting how you're wearing one of his favorite Hawaiian shirts with the top buttons unbuttoned, revealing skin that normally he'd have covered in kisses a thousand times over since he returned last night. Instead it's unmarred by his lips and teeth and you're as vicious as can be. Two can play that game. Two can be childish.



"I'm sorry, something stupid. No— no, you didn't say something stupid. You said something cruel. That's a big difference, babe. One is normal, the other is you reminding me that I could have left you alone just like my mom was. Like that didn't go through my head. Like Maverick didn't tell me that much while we were heading back. "



A laugh erupts from deep inside your chest as you turn to look at Rooster. "Did it really go through your head? Did you think I'm throwing away my life with Vulture because I need to save someone who ruined parts of my life? Or did your brain get scrambled from the G's?"



You watch as eyes that you love start to fill with something resembling tears as his hand clenches the coffee cup. He loves you, he knows that to be a simple fact. He loves you. His father loved him and his mother. Mav loves him and loved his father and his mother. And you love him. In this moment though, that last one feels like a joke, feels like a dagger twisting in his chest. Maybe you don't love him if this is what you want to spew at him. You're a woman who should have had a callsign of Viper but only gets Vulture because you can handle things other people couldn't. You take care of things other people wouldn't or couldn't. He supposes you taking on all of those things is what makes you the way you are.



"It's what my dad would have done," he forces the words out and tries to not cry because you know what that means to him. You know know better than anyone. "I was his wingman."



"And what about my wingman, Bradley?" Your question comes out softer than you mean it to even as you slam your coffee pod into the machine. Somehow tears start to tease the edge of your eye line. "You were just going to leave me without mine. You really are your father's son. Guess I should be happy we don't have a little you running around. That's a little too on the nose."



The slam of the coffee cup startles you more than anything you've thought was possible in that moment and yet without missing a beat you turn to face Rooster once again in time for you to see angry tears falling from his eyes. "I'm not doing this. You're— I didn't leave you. You're not having to bury me and you're not having to be by my side as I bury the closest thing I have to a father now. That is what should matter. Not what I did. What I know you would have done for some people. What you'd have done for Phoenix alone. I'm here in our kitchen wearing my engagement ring and you're just wearing my shirt and not sobbing into it because it's the closest thing that smells like me. Let it go." He takes a moment to take a shaky breath and starts to move toward you. "I made a mistake but I don't regret it. Let. It. Go."



If you were younger, if you were the same girl Rooster met all those years ago you'd have taken your ring off and slammed it on the counter right next to his coffee cup in a fit of anger. You're older now, same as Bradley and you stop yourself even as your hand inches toward your ring finger. Bradley's always been taller than you unless you're in heels and it forces you to look up at him. "You forget who you're wanting to marry, Bradshaw. I'm— I'm not letting this go. Just— you know what, sleep on the couch, do whatever. I don't care— you're not sleeping in our bed. Especially if you want to act like I meant to say what I said in the first place. You want to ignore me? Fine. Then do that."



You see Bradley's jaw tense, and watch the way it moves as you normally would enjoy before he speaks. "Wasn't planning on sleeping there for a while anyway. Enjoy your coffee, Y/N."

Ever since you had started dating, you and Bradley had talked every single day. No matter the fight, no matter what happened between you two you would never let something like this drag on for so long. Life was short after all and you two were both vividly aware of that.



This time though, this time it drags on for two weeks and you have a half right mind to stand in front of Bradley until he talks until you realize from how even Phoenix looks at you while at the Hard Deck that it wouldn't help. It truthfully might make things worse. So you let him stew and he lets you stew. You miss him and you like to think he misses you but you're both very stubborn people who know how to hold grudges with the best of them.



It's strange, ignoring someone you love in your own house but sometimes you'd like to argue that you and Bradley are strange people. Normal most of the time but with those small little scars inside and out that make you do strange things. Strange things like make sure your dress whites are ready to go the day of what you think is a ceremony— honestly you hadn't paid attention for once to the notice. That's what you do with someone you love and someone you care about— not someone you're still so angry with that it hurts to talk to them.



You arrive separately to questioning looks from most of the Dagger Squad and Maverick but you both shrug and smile them off even as you stay apart most of the night. What you both don't realize is that the other is sneaking glances when one of you looks away. Your eyes take in the man who you think— you hope— is still going to be your future husband and bemoan the fact that he can't wear this uniform everywhere. There's something special about seeing him all dressed in white and looking every bit a dashing naval aviator.



His eyes? Oh, his eyes take in the woman he knows he's still going to marry if one of you would just break already. They take in you in white which you hate wearing because it shows off everything and stains and all those silly things you say. They take in how your jacket contains your chest but how the buttons strain just a little and how he knows that you're probably wearing a lace bra that he loves underneath it. He knows how that bra feels against his hands when he cups your breasts and squeezes them in his hands. Your chest is a work of art sometimes— all the time really and he hasn't touched in over two weeks.



Jake is the one who notices how Bradley's eyes haven't left you for a few minutes and notices how he's shifting in place— fidgeting in a way he's never seen him.



"She's been staring at you too," the blonde chuckles. "This is— This is every bad high school dance and military ball I've ever been to rolled into one. Go over to her, Rooster. Stop pining, man."



Bradley wants to defend himself but he turns to look at you again only to catch your eyes and how they slide down his body before stopping at his crotch and— he finds most logic and sense goes out the window. Like two magnets drawn to one another you both find yourselves by each other's sides, with hands grazing each other's hips.



"I—" He starts before you shake your head.



"I was being cruel. You've— We both know I get like that and I was terrified, Bradley. I saw our lives flashing before my eyes the second I found. It was gone in an instant. That doesn't excuse—" Your words are cut off with a soft kiss that you're both endlessly thankful no one sees.



"Babe. Trust me, I know I was an idiot and that same vision you had? Yeah, you weren't the only one. I swear I heard my mom and my dad yelling at me." His words are soft as he nuzzles his nose against yours, laughing softly when you scrunch up your nose because of his mustache. "I'm sorry."



You sniffle a little, partially to prevent a sneeze from his mustache hair and to cover up the fact that you're a little emotional. "I'm sorry too." You take a moment to look up meet his eyes only to see how his eyes are trained on your breasts. "Lieutenant Bradshaw, are you staring at my boobs in public? At a function?"



You watch as a light dusting of color reaches his cheeks before he bites his lips. "And if I am?"



A breath leaves your mouth slowly as you move the hand that's been on his hip toward the front of his dress pants, giggling softly at the slight hardness you feel. "I'd say you should stop unless you want me to take care of this in the bathroom."



His eyes dart around the room checking to see if anyone will notice you're both gone for a bit before he laughs. "Meet you there in five?"



You practically give yourself minor whiplash as you nod quickly. "Can I keep the bra on?"



His groan almost gives the two of you and your plans away.

The great thing, you think, about this bra, is that it makes it so easy to have Bradley stick his cock in between your breasts without taking it off. You know by the end he'll want it off, want to squeeze your breasts as he slides his cock in between them but in the beginning he's fine with this.



"I missed my girls," he groans as you press your arms against the side of your chest, pushing your breasts together even more. "Should— Should've gotten over myself and fucked you in my shirt that morning."



"You would have gotten come on your favorite Hawaiian shirt, Bradley," you try to reason with him even as your voice takes on an airy sort of quality the quicker your fingers move in between your legs. You should have taken off your pants but you realize it's a little too late for that now.



"We're probably getting come on our dress whites, babe." It's a joke but one that's likely very true from the way you can see his cock pulse and from the way your fingers— even through the articles of clothing you're wearing sound so obscene as they squelch and slide between your folds. "Would've made it better. Fuck, swear this bra does something to your tits."



"It's a bra? A dressy one? That's the point?" You can't help but giggle as he moves faster, his cock gilding against the soft skin of your breasts. "You getting close baby?"



"Lil bit," he grunts out, his hand moving to try and grasp at one of your nipples. "You wanna free them? Let your nipples join in on the fun?"



"You just wanna smear them with precome, Bradshaw, you're not slick." It's not a no, and your hands move to start undoing your bra even as you look up and see Bradley with the dumbest smirk you've ever seen him have. "Why are you—"



"You're slick though," he pulls his cock out from between your breasts and bends down to kiss you as your bra releases your breasts. "Bad—"



"Bad dirty dad joke," you cut him off with a fond shake of your head. "At least wait until we have a little birdy before you stoop that low."



A shrug is the only answer you get as he lines his cock up with your breasts and waits for you to press them together before saying a single phrase. "Sorry. It's in my blood."



You look up at him through your eyelashes and sigh, ignoring how your heart twists a little at the faked twinkle in those brown eyes of his. Instead you bend your head down just a little to lick a small kitten lick at the head of his cock. "Doomed to those jokes for the rest of my life as Mrs. Bradshaw. What have I done?"



A shudder ripples through him at your lick and he has to force himself to not come right then and there all over your perfectly made up face. He wants to though, wants to see you debauched like you should have been the second he came home and was alive and in your arms. He should have painted your face white. Should have made it so there was a stain on his favorite shirt that he'd wear proudly because it'd tell everyone how needy you two were for each other. It'd remind everyone that he's taken by the most vicious, intelligent, and vivacious woman he's ever met. It'd remind him that you missed him that much that you couldn't bear to be apart from some part of him for too long.



He didn't though and he can't right now but tonight when you're home and laying across your shared bed maybe he can do it then and watch as your lips try and lick bits off your face. The image he paints in his mind is something else and it has him clenching the fabric of your jacket before his own hands move to play with the tops of your breasts. The action earns a low whine from you, wanting more of his large hands on you, his thumbs playing with your nipples as he kisses you. You two have to make this quick though and it shows in how Bradley's thrusts increase in speed and how he motions for you to do something— anything— with your boobs and your hands until you finally catch onto his meaning.



"You are so boob drunk, Bradley," you mutter as your hand wraps around the part of his cock not between your breasts. With every thrust up you manage a lick or two just to tease him until you see his thrusts getting messier and less controlled.



A breathless low chuckle leaves him. "Nah, just you drunk. Fuck, babe, Y/N. I'm— let him go. Gonna—"



"Cum on them. Just cum on them. I'll wipe it off."



You look up with all the confidence in the world to see him with blown out pupils and a wet lips from where he's bitten them to keep quiet. "You su—" You cut him off with an almost violent nod that has the head of his cock brushing your chin as he does. "Okay okay."



What happens next is a flurry of limbs and grunts and low whines from you and Bradley as you chase your respective highs. Bradley comes first, hips stuttering, painting your chest with his cum, pearly white and just uncontrolled enough that some lands on your lips and chin and another bit lands on your dress shirt, narrowly avoiding your jacket. Your name falls from his lips easily as you look up at him, your fingers curling just so inside of you as he reaches out to cup your cheek his brown eyes so full of love, arousal and adoration that you come with a silent cry, your body threatening to fall forward from the sheer intensity but his strong hands are there to stop you.



You both lean back— him against the wall and you on your knees- catching your breath before he moves to grab paper towels, wetting them just enough for you to clean his release off of you. He embarrassingly lets out something close to a childish whine as he watches you lick the traces of come off your lips until you raise an eyebrow at him and his hardening cock.



"When we get home." You both manage to say at the same time before letting out matching peals of laughter. After a moment where you both can't keep a straight face Bradley starts to tuck himself inside his dress pants and you start to button your shirt back up before he pulls you up with an ease that marvels you even to this day. You feel the warmth of his large hand through your shirt as he straightens it out, making sure it's regulation ready. He winces at the slight stain of his come near your shoulder before remembering you still have to get your jacket on. His hands make quick work of the buttons and he notes with pride the only sliver of come one can see is easily explained away as water.



You can't help but bite your lip at Bradley when you see him looking down at you, inspecting his handiwork. Almost as if he realizes you're staring he meets your eyes and smiles this stupid half smile that makes his mustache look far cuter than it has any right to be and has his eyes dancing with mirth.



"Come on Lieutenant Bradshaw, they're gonna notice if we stay here," he tries to school his face into something resembling a serious look before he chuckles softly.



"Aye aye, Lieutenant Bradshaw." A pause. "You can't call me by your last name yet, you know."



He shrugs, unlocking the door as he wraps his arm around your waist. "I almost died. I can do it if I want. Besides, saw your thighs tense up."



You tamp down on the urge to slap his arm playfully as your own arm moves to snake around his waist. "You're lucky I love you."



"Yeah,' he stops right before you reach the door to reenter the hall and presses you just lightly against the wall. "I love you too."

#bradley bradsaw x reader #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw smut #bradley bradshaw angst #rooster smut #rooster angst #bradley bradshaw fic

[acciocriativity]

-> When they reject you…

… but it wasn't a confession (MATZ Version)

Genre: angst (I'm sorry)

Warnings/tags: angst; unrequited love (?); Seonghwa being a little asshole; heartbreak; just betrayal guys

WC: 1,4 k

N/A: Yes, this is inspired by that Colin scene in Bridgerton, to be honest I still not forgave him for that.

Please reblog my work if you enjoyed it, it helps to reach other people <3

Ateez Masterlist

Park Seonghwa (박성화)

You had no reason to be up right now. Actually if anything, you should’ve been sleeping for hours now to rest for the early morning ahead of you, yet somehow you were still waiting to make sure he was safe and sound.

You heard them from the hallway, a combination of the dead silence in the building and their loud voices. You heard only sounds that didn’t make any sense to you, but it made you get up in hurry.

This isn’t good, there was something wrong with Seonghwa, you knew it.

The apartment was small, there wasn’t stairs to go down or a long way to cross to reach the door. In a few steps after you left your room, Seonghwa’s and Yunho’s voices became clear to you.

“Shh, keep your voice down, are you trying to wake everyone up?”, Yunho whisper-screamed, but his tone was far from angry, there was a residue of laughter on his voice.

“No”, he almost whined as you heard the constant jiggles from Seonghwa’s chains bag, like he was struggling against Yunho. “I told you I don’t want to live with her anymore, take me to the dorms for the night”.

That took you by surprise, you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

Ever since you two became roommates two years ago, he never gave you any signs that he needs some time away from your company, which would be completely okay, but to hear him say that to his friend made you feel so humiliated. You tried so hard to be friendly, to make him and all of his friends at home and all he did was pretend to do the same, welcoming you into his life.

Was this how he talked about you behind your back? Did they all know he hated living with you?

You feel something burning, maybe it was the bit of love for him, you had or the tears you refused to cry over this.

“Hyung, com’on, it's not that bad, you need to sleep and think clearly about this”, Yunho tried his best for a while, you could tell this wasn’t the first or second time he said those words.

They got closer to the door, only then you realized you were spying on them. If you were embarrassed before, now you felt mortified, but somehow you couldn’t move an inch.

What exactly made him feel uncomfy at home, because you were completely in the dark about those feelings, whatever they were. Did he seem off those days? You can’t remember, he was as sweet to you as he’s always been. But the man on the other side of the door was done, he was huffing and puffing like an immature child because he didn’t want to be at your home. The Seonghwa you thought was a friend couldn’t be more different than the man you are listening to right now.

“She is that bad”.

You breathe in.

There’s no way, absolutely no way.

“You should just tell her, y’ know”, Yunho said in that soft tone you hear more than once directed at you.

“I did”, Seonghwa raised his voice and that startles you. “She just doesn’t get the hint, I gave her too many signs to move on already”.

You don’t hear whatever answer Yunho gave him nor the sequential sounds of each number of the door code. You could only hear all the deep conversations you had together, where he told you he would be there for you anytime you needed, that he’d give a shoulder when you needed one. He was the one that made you open up to him and for what?

The door opened wide

They stood there like two idiots caught dirty-handed. Seonghwa couldn’t look at you in the eyes, a fucking coward he truly was. He was just like the others in your life, your worst nightmare became true.

There were tears pooling in your eyes as you closed more and more in your own head again, all of those months worth of improvement wasted.

Your mind screamed for you to move, to run out of there as fast as you could to as far as possible. But why should you? The voice in your head was bitter and angry. This was your apartment at first, even though you didn’t hesitate to call it ‘our’.

“Leave then, am I forcing you to live here with me? Did I even say I was interested in you? Get your shit by tomorrow night and get off my face.

You shut the door close on their faces.

Kim Hongjoong (김홍중)

The library wasn’t as empty as you wished it would be at 21:39, to study or do something near closing hours would be pointless for most, but you needed only more 79 words to finish your essay and your mama raised no bitch.

You watch the numbers change on your phone, exactly 20 minute from now you have to finish this. You’ve been here all evening, you can’t bring yourself to do it at home. No, you are going to finish this, get home, get a nice shower and re—

“I think you’re actually going insane, no offense though”.

You could recognize that voice anywhere. That fucker said he didn’t have time to study with you, again. Did he come to check on me? The thought crossed your head, but you shut it down just as fast, that wouldn’t make any sense, would it? He was ignoring you for a week now, no calls, no texts, nothing. Did he even know you were here? He would, if he saw the text you sent at noon.

You stared at your screen, the white was blurring your vision after so long. You took that as a sign to take a little 5-minute break.

Alright Hongjoong, this is your last chance to redeem yourself, this is the last time I’d bother to try.

You couldn’t see where he was from your seat, but his voice seemed to be coming from the sets of tables on the other side of the bookshelves. At the very least he deserved a little jump scare, he should have it coming as payback, so you don’t feel bad as you tiptoed to spy on where he was.

You moved a couple books to the side to see it better. He had his phone glued to his ear as he paced around. Distracted, as you needed, but the little mischievous demon on your shoulder disappeared as you paid close attention to his distressed disposition. There were few moments where you saw him so tense and stressed. Whatever the other person was saying, wasn’t good news.

“No, that’s… I see, but that makes it worse, no? I can’t tell her like this, hm…”

The lilac pencil case on top of the table distracted you from the big picture. The table was a mess from two people, the distinction was clear as day. Hongjoong wouldn’t be caught dead with anything other than black or red on his bag. It was clear it wasn’t his, so whose was?

The answer walked in with a concerned look on her face. Was that the ‘her’ in the conversation? He ended the call as soon as she got close. They stood near each other, too near for two people who just met.

“Are you sure she’s going to be okay?”, she leaned into him as if on instinct, a feeling you could relate to, he had something in him that attract people to him.

He took a deep breath. “I don’t know, I wish to keep a normal friendship with her someday”.

“It’s better to just call her, it’s been long enough for her to get over you”.

Is this ‘her’ me? You hoped not, whatever this was, you hated.

You felt sick to your stomach as they held hands, so you left Hongjoong alone, like he clearly wanted to. He wasn’t the type to open up to new people, she wasn’t new, and he never told you about it. There wasn’t secrets in your friendship, at least he said so, but there was a lot you don’t know, apparently.

If that’s you… if he was talking about you, did he just ignore you for almost two weeks because he thought you would get in the middle of his relationship?

You phone rang.

It was him, but you didn’t bother to answer, and he didn’t bother to try again. There’s nothing to salvage anymore.

Tag list: @h3arteyes4mingi

#ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez reactions #ateez headcanons #ateez masterlist #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #ateez angst #seonghwa reactions

[thefreakandthehair]

@eddiemonth prompt, oct 6th: Crush | You Could Start A Cult - Niall Horan | Sincere a/n: steddie, pining, post-s4. un-betaed because I’m challenging myself to write these in under an hour. read on ao3 | link to masterpost on ao3

A crush is called a crush for a reason, and Eddie Munson is learning this lesson the hard way. 

The very hard way. 

The Jesus Christ, all he did was laugh at my stupid joke and I’m going to collapse in on myself like a dying star kind of way. 

It’s been nearly a year of this and Eddie feels like he’s being squashed beneath the weight of the giant boulder that is his crush on Steve Harrington. A solid year of his hopeless, pointless, wonderful crush on Steve Harrington. 

Everyone knows– well, everyone above the age of 16 has figured it out at least. Eddie isn’t exactly known for his subtlety, after all. 

Jeff, Gareth, and Freak had their reservations at the start after years of being persecuted by the same genre of person Steve had been in high school but once Eddie spun them the tale of how Steve carried out from beneath the rubble of a collapsed building, they’d come around. Jeff took the longest, finally acquiescing  after properly meeting Steve.

You were always into jocks, dude, c’mon. Sounds like this one might have some redeemable qualities at least. 

He couldn’t quite tell them the actual truth, but it’s truth-adjacent and does the job. It paints Steve as the hero Eddie knows him to be, whether Steve wants to acknowledge the title or not. 

Robin knew before they’d even gone back into the Upside Down, before Eddie nearly died in Dustin’s arms and then again, in Steve’s. 

I was there when you called him Big Boy, Munson. You’re not subtle. He’s just oblivious. 

Nancy figured it out when Eddie was in the hospital, still a little loopy from painkillers and who knows what else. 

You were on another planet and couldn’t stop talking about his chest hair, Eddie. 

Argyle knew on sight the first time he saw Eddie with Steve. It was a little spooky, actually, how on the nose he was about two people he barely knew but on the nose, he was. 

You’re the only one callin’ him Stevie, brochacho. And he’s the only one calling you Ed so… take that for what it’s worth. 

Jonathan knew because Argyle knew and Jonathan and Argyle seem to have something there, too, but that’s none of Eddie’s business. All of the unrequited love bandwidth he has is tied up in Steve, and his smile, and his way with the kids, and his cologne– 

“You got something on your face.” 

Robin nudges him in the side behind the kitchen counter where he’s been leaning, watching helplessly through the kitchen window as Steve grills another round of burgers going for their We Lived And Can’t Tell The Tale Because We All Signed NDAs party starting soon. 

Eddie wipes his face frantically, hoping he didn’t have ketchup or something on his cheek from Steve’s trial run of the burgers. He pulls his hand back to find nothing besides Robin grinning, bemused and pitying all the same when it clicks.

“I’m not actually drooling. Just… metaphorically. God, let me cling to some shred of dignity here.” 

Steve flips another burger, this one landing square right-side-up. Eddie groans, Robin rolls her eyes, and he laments. 

“What the fuck is wrong with me that that’s so hot? He’s not doing anything special! He’s just existing in those too-tight jeans and plain tee shirt and I’m ready to lay waste to the evils of the world to get to him. And they say I’m the cult leader? I’d follow this asshole into the bowels of Hell.” Eddie sighs and drops his head back to stare at the ceiling.

It’s offensive, honestly, the popcorn ceiling and the way it mocks him. 

“I mean, you kinda already did.” Robin shrugs and bumps her shoulder into his, somehow softer than her initial nudge. “And look, it’s not my business, but I think you might be surprised if you talked to him. He’s not the same he was when he said all that shit to Jonathan, y’know.” 

Eddie whips to the side, too quickly as his head spins for a brief moment. He searches her eyes for hints or a glimmer of hope. Something. Anything. 

“What do you know, Buckley?” It’s less a question and more a statement. 

“I don’t know a damn thing, other than a conversation might do you both some good. But look,” Robin sighs and hops up to sit on the island next to Eddie as he turns his attention back to Steve manning the grill. He’s trying not to stare at the way Steve twirls the spatula… and failing, of course. How are his hands so big? 

“Hello? Munson, Earth to heart-eyes over there. This is information you might really want to listen to.” Robin waves a hand in front of his face and he jolts out of his thoughts. It’s for the best– the second he gets lost in Steve’s hands, it’s all over for him. 

“Sorry, sorry, I’m listening.” Eddie responds, vaguely reminded of his many years in school. 

“I was saying, Steve’s a good guy. The best guy, really. And I know he’s acted fine with being single the last year or so, but he’s lonely behind that facade. So if this is just like, a crush that’s gonna pass, keep it to yourself. But if you really like him, if you wanna like, be with him, then yeah. I think you might want to talk to him.” 

Eddie considers his feelings for a long moment, staring back out the window. This time, he watches Steve at the grill and sees so much more than a guy in too-tight jeans and a plain tee shirt flipping burgers. He sees jumping into the lake, rushing through the Upside Down, finding a quiet moment in the chaos traipsing through the Upside Down’s version of the woods. He sees what little he remembers of bleeding out and being carried by Steve through the portal, of waking up in the hospital, handcuffed to the bed and Steve sitting in the corner with Wayne. He sees every fleeting moment, every soft touch, every nickname and split joint and pizza with half pepperoni and half bacon. 

He looks out the window at Steve and sees his life. 

Maybe the weight of his crush has only felt so heavy in the way that holding your arms out for too long begins to feel heavy.  Maybe the forced, sustained tension would be relieved if he just let himself relax. 

“I’m with him already, for better or worse.”

Robin hums in acknowledgement before breaking into laughter as they both watch Steve transfer the burgers to a plate, only to accidentally knock the dish off the side of the grill. He must hear their laughter because his eyes shoot directly to the window and he points the spatula at them, free hand on his hip. “It’s not fucking funny, now I have to go to the store!” 

“It’ll probably be for the worse.” Robin looks at him and raises an eyebrow. 

Eddie just laughs and shakes his head, tendrils of hair falling into his face that he pulls further across his mouth. 

“Worth it.”

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #eddie month #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #st fic #myblurbs #eddie month prompts

[thewritingofamadwoman]

To Forgive or Not To Forgive, That Is The Question

Part two of “Should I Stay or Should I go”

Pairing: Mark Sloan x Fem!OC

Warnings: some fluff, some angst, Mark being his usual handsome self.

Thank you for reading & Enjoy!

It had been exactly one month since Mark Sloan officially started working at Seattle Grace and honestly it has been the worst few weeks of my entire existence. My head and heart were all over the place, at war with each other whenever I saw, thought of, spoke to, or worked with Mark.

The more logical, realistic side of me was angry and hurt, betrayed that I had no choice but to work side by side on some cases with the man who had left both my daughter and I when we needed him the most. The emotional, more physical side of my brain couldn’t stop from preening whenever Mark complimented me or flirted with me. He once placed a hand on my waist to squeeze by from behind me I could swear that the entire hallway heard the how loud my fucking heart was beating.

I tried my hardest to be the bitch I needed to be to deter him. I would glare and roll my eyes, snap back and avoid Mark at all costs. But of course, somehow the largest hospital in Seattle had become smaller than your average kindergarten classroom. I couldn’t avoid Mark Sloan no matter how hard I tried.

I was currently standing at a nurses station, flipping through a chart while Callie stood next to me, signing a few papers. Cristina Yang was crunching on chips in front of us when she let out a low whistle. Callie and I turned our attention to her when she nodded her head towards the end of the hall. There Mark stood as he chatted with Derek, in scrubs and a lab coat. The men were whispering about something, and Mark let out a laugh, throwing his head back. Callie let out a breathy laugh of her own.

“Damn he’s hot,” she said, and Cristina hummed in response. I rolled my eyes but couldn’t take my eyes from Mark’s silhouette. They weren’t wrong, Mark was hot. So very fucking hot. But…he fucked up. And I couldn’t forgive him. I shouldn’t forgive him. Right?

“He’s alright, I guess. But he’s an ass,” I said nonchalantly and forced my eyes back to the chart in front of me.

Cristina snorted and continued to munch on her chips.

“Sure, but that’s a fine ass he has,” she chuckled and Callie laughed along with her, agreeing. I looked up to shush them but my eyes connected with Mark’s from across the hall and I stuttered. Make gave me his signature smile, eyes gentle, before turning back to Derek. Callie and Cristina turned around to stop themselves from giggling. Controlling my blush I closed my patients folder and slapped Callie’s arm with that same folder.

“You two are horrible. Just horrible,” I mumbled at them before I walked away.

——

The day continued and Mark always seemed to be in my peripheral vision. Everywhere I went, he was there. Whether he was with a patient or chatting with one of our coworkers, Mark Sloan was never more than 40 steps away from me at any given moment.

I reached my breaking point before lunch.

“Oh for fucks sake,” I muttered to myself when I saw Mark chatting with Alex Karev, MY intern for the month. I marched to both men and cleared my throat.

“Mark, can I speak to you for a second?” I bit out, doing my best to remain civil.

“Uh yeah, sure. Of course. Karev, I’ll see you later,” Mark nodded at Alex before turning to me, a friendly smile on his face.

“Mark, what are you doing?” I sighed, tired of all the emotional whiplash. Mark looked at me, seemingly genuinely confused.

“What do you mean? Karev? I was just chatting with him-“

“No,” I cut him off. “What are you doing here, in Seattle? At this hospital? You’re one of the best plastic surgeons in the country and you had to come to the one hospital I work at?”

Mark gave me a small, sheepish smile.

“In my defense, this is the number one trauma center in the west cost and Richard Webber really did give me an offer I couldn’t refuse. But the main reason? You know the main reason, Lise. I came to apologize. What I did was wrong. So fucking wrong,” Mark sighed, and the use of a nickname I hadn’t heard in a long time did not go unnoticed by me. I let him continue.

“I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you and to our baby girl. I was young and dumb and I know that those aren’t excuses, but you have to believe me when I say that I want nothing more in this world right now than to be with you and to finally meet my daughter.” Mark’s eyes pleaded with mine and I could see the sincerity within them.

But I couldn’t bring myself to forgive him right away.

“Mark, you broke me. I was ready to start a family with you. And you just ripped my heart out and stomped on it. I…I’m not sure I can just forgive you like that,” I said, my heart clenching at the thought of us being a family again. I didn’t notice the hot tear sliding down my face until Mark’s hands cupped both of my cheeks, his thumb brushing the stray tear away.

“I’m sorry Lise. I’m so sorry baby. I will spend the rest of my entire fucking existence trying to earn your trust back, if you’ll let me. I want to do right by you and our baby girl. I know what I’m signing up for here. And I’m willing. Please, just let me try to prove myself to you. I want to be the one who makes you happy again,” Mark pleaded, his own eyes watering with desperation. I reached up and grabbed both of his wrists in my hands before staring into those beautiful blue eyes of his.

After what felt like an eternity, I nodded.

“You get ONE chance. This is it, Mark. You fuck this up and we are DONE for good. You don’t get to talk to me or see our daughter. You disappear from the fucking face of the earth and leave us alone. Do you hear me?” I said. Last time, I let logic and reasoning rule my heartbreak. This time I was willing to let emotion take over. I was still raw from the heartbreak but I guess I loved Mark Sloan more than I was willing to admit.

Mark’s eyes widened and he smiled, squeezing my face in his hands just a touch and leaning forward to place a gentle kiss on my forehead. I closed my eyes at the sensation, opening them back up once Mark had pulled away.

“You won’t be disappointed baby, I promise.”

Part Three…? ;)

Tag List (thanks for reading):

@caseyandsloan @xjasam4lifex @spookyboogyuniverse

#mark sloan oneshot #mark sloan x OC #mark sloan fanfic #mark sloan x fem!oc #mark Sloan fanfiction #mark sloan x reader

[bravo4iscool]

the sacrifice (simon “ghost” riley x reader)

a little teaser for a one shot i’m currently working on👀

full version here!

(masterlist)

You lay in your bed, face down, thinking about what you possibly could‘ve done wrong to piss Ghost off that much. You couldn‘t live with not knowing what you did.

You get dragged out of your thoughts when you hear a curt nod. You groan and stand up. It probably was Soap, ready to annoy you again. You shuffle over to the door, rolling your eyes already.

„Fuck off Soap,“ you say while opening the door. Only problem, it wasn‘t Soap who knocked on your door.

You freeze when you’re met with Simon’s face. Not Ghost, no. He doesn’t wear his mask and also he was in sweatpants and a hoodie. This was Simon Riley standing in front of you and you were more than confused. What the hell was going on?

He stared down at you, clearly uncomfortable but he told himself that he finally needs to make things right with you. He didn‘t want to see you so hurt, knowing that it was his fault.

„Can I…come in?“ he asks, slightly tilting his head and for a minute you’re too perplexed to actually answer. Then you only nod and step aside to let him in. You wanted to know why he decided to show up at your door at a not really civil time…

You turn around to look at him and before you can get even one word out he starts to talk. „I’m sorry,“ he says, the words rolling off of his tongue like he‘s been practicing this for the last three hours. He had.

You want to say something but he raises his hand, not letting you have your say. „Please…“ he looks at you, a never before seen softness in his eyes. „Let me explain to you.“

You hesitatingly shake your head, heading over to your bed to sit down. He himself takes the chair, which is positioned in front of your desk, and places him a meter or two in front of your bed.

A chill runs down your spine as he looks at you, his eyes sharp but yet so soft and gentle. Something was going on with him but you couldn‘t name what exactly.

„I’ve been an ass,“ he starts and you can’t help but snort at that. Yes, he’s been an ass. A massive one. As you look at him you see one corner of his mouth slightly twitching. Was that a smirk?

„I want to apologize to you,“ and then he says your real name and you’re a goner. He never called you by your name, always your call sign… But you did the same with him, no? Always calling him Ghost and never Simon…

#writing #ao3 #fanfiction #archive of our own #call of duty #cod #ghost #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #ghost x you #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #wip #work in progress

[roosterbruiser]

Hi, please could I request a super fluffy, adorable and sickeningly sweet blurb for Bradley Bradshaw??

Sweet Rooster has a ridiculously tight hold on my heart right now

🐓

𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐲𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝

𝐚 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛

Rooster didn't realize how touch deprived he was until he met you. It's silly, really, because how could he not know? He was almost always alone and--more often than not--on a carrier in the middle of an ocean surrounded by testosterone. Maybe he didn't notice for so long because he didn't really care--or he thought he didn't care.

But then one night, only a month into what would become a very serious relationship, he was blinking himself awake as the two of you tried to get through Kill Bill: Volume 2 for the third time that week. He couldn't help that he was so tired, really. He got up at the crack of fucking dawn (which you thought was endlessly funny given his call-sign) and pushed his body to its limit all day on base in the hot sun. You didn't mind, really, and only teased him lightly about it. He obviously wanted to spend time with you, which was why you were sitting in his dark living room despite his desire to just sleep.

You're pretending not to notice him blinking himself awake and his big, brown eyes that are cartoonishly drooping. He's slumped over on the couch with his arm wrapped lazily around your waist.

In the middle of the movie, just after he dozes off for the third time, you turn to look at him. He's so dazed with exhaustion that he doesn't even feel your gaze, his thumb stroking long and complete circles over your bicep in a repetition that is surely aiding in lulling him to sleep.

"Roos," you whisper.

He slowly turns to look at you, raising his eyebrows, giving you a pathetic excuse of a smile. For a moment, he's worried you're mad at him. He really doesn't want to give you the wrong impression by watching the same movie three times in one week because he keeps fucking falling asleep while you're here. But when he sees your face, partly made up of shadows and partly made up of the flashing TV lights, he sees how open and gentle you look. Your eyes are soft and wide, lips tugging upwards, eyebrows blanched. You're not mad at all and he knows that immediately.

"M'so sorry," he says despite knowing you're not angry. He still wants to kick himself for not being able to just stay the fuck awake. "I really want you to know that I like you so much--like so, so, so much and you aren't, like, boring me or anything it's just that--!"

You don't know exactly why you do it, but you're glad you do. You have delicately tangled your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck and it has rendered him entirely speechless--sentence coming to a screeching halt. It literally takes his breath away when you begin to very lightly scratch his scalp.

"Found your off button," you whisper, a grin creeping up your lips.

He wants to say something back, something witty and sharp, but he is so overcome with the desire to lean into your touch that he can do nothing but. His head grows heavy in your hands and you accept it with grace, laughing softly. It's a laugh that tells him for once in his life, he shouldn't be worried about imposing himself on others. He should just let you play with his hair.

"That's...that's real nice," he whispers finally, his voice thin.

You love seeing him like this: his lips parted, his eyes slipped shut, his Adam's apple bobbing thickly, his eyebrows pinched just so. He looks even more beautiful to you now than he did before--and it's because he's letting you get closer to him.

"Why don't you lay on my lap?"

Any other time, he'd have some sort of retort. But he just complies in silence, reeling at the loss of contact when you situate yourself so your lap is open and free for his head to lay upon.

But just before he lays down, a fear grips every nerve in his body. He hasn't laid on anyone's lap in years--fuck, he can't even remember the last time he laid in anyone's lap. Surely it was his mother's all those years ago--before she got sick, before he grew up, maybe even before his dad died. He feels, suddenly, like he's giving into something he didn't even know was tugging him.

But then he sees your eyes gleaming in the dim light. And maybe it's because you have the most beautiful face he's ever seen and maybe it's because he's lonely and maybe it's because he really does likely and maybe it's because he's so dead-tired, but as soon as you nod towards your lap, he complies.

Really, it's the closest you two have been before. You've had your fair share of over-the-shoulder cuddles and some polite goodnight hugs and quick kisses. But this--his cheek pressed against your thighs with one of your hands tangled in his hair and the other laying peacefully in the middle of his back--it's the most intimate thing you've done.

"People could pay you to do this," he mumbles, slurring against the material of your yoga pants.

You have to bite a grin as you gaze down at his profile; his features have all gone slack and you know he's on borrowed time now, slipping easily and restfully into dreamland.

"First one's on the house," you mumble, delicately outlining the scar across his throat. His long eyelashes flutter against his smooth skin and his mustache twitches very lightly when his mouth parts. "You're a very beautiful man, Bradley."

Heat gathers in his cheeks. You've rendered him speechless again.

In response, he wraps his arm around your leg, the one he's laying on. The crook of his elbow rests flush against the backside of your knee and he draws a careful line down the line of your calf. And then, very gently and with quivering lips, he turns and presses a lingering kiss to the inside of your knee.

And that's when you know. Really, that's when you both know: you're it for each other. Everyone else can go home.

here is my tag list!!

𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐦𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛, 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧, 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬! 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲, 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐛!

#m answers #rooster bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x oc #rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw angst #bradley bradshaw top gun #bradley rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster x y/n #rooster top gun #rooster x reader #top gun rooster #rooster angst #rooster fluff #rooster x you #rooster drabble #rooster blurb #rooster fanfic #rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster bradshaw fluff #rooster bradshaw x you #rooster bradshaw x female reader

[bfiaflbox]

The only time I feel I might get better

Pairing: Matty x Reader Warnings: Mentions of Drugs, drug use, alcoholism and recovery Disclaimer: All I know about this is second hand knowledge and things I googled so don't get mad when I get something wrong. I just thought this scenario is an interesting one and wanted to type it out. I kind of hate and love it at the same time.

It‘s around 11 pm when your doorbell rings. You were about to go to bed and were definitely not expecting visitors, so you‘re hesitant about answering. The doorbell rings again. „Y/n, are you there?!“ you hear a familiar voice shout. It’s Matty. In the middle of the night. Frantically ringing your doorbell. This is not a good sign.

You open the door to a disheveled looking Man who seems like he‘s about to cry. He‘s breathing heavily and fidgets with his hands. „I fucked up“ he almost whispers. Without asking any questions you let him in and go into support-person-mode.

The second the door closes behind Matty, he starts rambling. „Fuck, I‘m sorry, I’m so SO sorry. I'm so fucking tired, I can't think. I fucked up. I don’t know what came over me, I just couldn’t fight the urge to use anymore so I went out and…“ tears start falling down his face.

„Okay, okay, breathe!“ you try to convey as much calm as you can and look him in the eyes. You notice he doesn’t look particularly high or out of it just… sad and tired. „Is it ok if I touch you?“ it’s the most important question in this friendship of yours, however fucked up and complicated it may be. He had to ask before he could touch you every time not to trigger something in you, and you extended the same courtesy to him. He nods and you start to stroke his arms. „How about you come in and we talk?“ and maybe calm down before going to see a professional about it.

He nods and both of you make your way to the living room and sit down on the couch. Matty buries his face in his hands, elbows on knees.

„Okay, Matty, tell me what happened“

„I don’t know, I haven’t really slept in days and I feel so drained and everything‘s too much and I just wanted something to make that feeling go away, to feel some peace and smack was the only thing I was able to think of. Fuck! This is bad. I don’t want to do this again.“ you know the feeling all too well. „Fuck. I couldn’t even score myself, the guy selling knew who l am so I paid another junkie to do it. I'm so pathetic.“

„Have you consumed any?“

He shakes his head. „I didn’t. I couldn’t. I came here instead. I’m sober right now. Please believe me“

„I do, I believe you“

He‘s pressing his palms into his eyes, probably a desperate attempt to stop the tears.

„Do you still have it?“

„Jup“

„Go on, hand it over“ you extend your open hand. He can’t have it near him. It’s like the first rule of addiction recovery: remove temptation. It‘s what he did for you when he got rid of all the alcohol that you were gifted early into recovery by people who didn’t know about your addiction. It‘s what he kept doing for you over the years, being there with you, frequently checking in during family gatherings, work events and birthdays, occasions that were typically linked to alcohol consumption.

Matty reaches into his pocket and produces a small packet of tinfoil wrapped in plastic and hands it over without question.

„That all?“

He nods

„Right, ok. I‘m going to dispose of this in the kitchen, do you want some tea?“

„Yes please“ he chokes out.

You go into your kitchen, put the kettle on and get the opioid disposal process started. How to get rid of heroin is one of the many things you had no idea of before your friendship with Matty, but now you know exactly what to do: you get out a glass from the cubboard, fill it halfway with water and dump the contents of the little packet into it. You go to your fridge and see if you still have any lemon juice left and find some that you forgot you had which also smells rank. Doesn’t matter, it will do. You add the juice to make the opioids dissolve in water like you learned in a fucked up chemistry lesson you would only get from a sober heroin addict and stir. Then you get a ziplock bag and go to the hallway cubboard where you store cat litter for exactly this occasion. You fill a good amount of the cat litter into the ziplock bag and return to the kitchen, take the heroin-lemon-water and dump it into the cat litter. It produces an absolutely disgusting looking brown mass, rendering the opiates completely unsalvageable. You zip up the bag and throw it in the trash.

When you come back to the living room from the kitchen, two mugs of tea in hand, you find Matty laying down on your couch, blanket over his legs. You put the mugs down on the coffee table and sit down on the floor in front of the couch. You reach your hand to his face and stroke his cheek with your thumb. He sighs and absolutely heartbreaking sigh.

„I know“, you whisper. And you do. You know how hard it can be to be a recovering addict, being on the brink of relapse.

Matty seems to calm down a bit. He's stopped crying and you just sit with him and the emotions in silence.

„Thank you“ he whispers after some time.

„Always“ you reply softly.

„Can I stay?“

„You know you can“, you smile.

He audibly exhales and timidly asks „can you please not tell George?“ oh yes, the accountability system. No keeping secrets, owning up to your mistakes, making sure you don’t isolate, etcetera, etcetera. It‘s not an official program, more like a thing you both came up with on your own.

„You know I have to tell him, it‘s part of the deal, remember?“

„I know, but I want to tell him myself.“

„Okay. But I‘m gonna make sure you do!“

„Tomorrow?“ he sounds so drained and exhausted.

„Tomorrow“, you agree. You don’t think you‘d have it in you to ask anything of him that he doesn’t want to do. You’re soft like that for him.

You sit in silence for a few minutes, admiring his face. His annoyingly handsome, lovely face and his slender but strong body. You long for him. And you long for him to get better. If only you could crack open his ribcage and personally fix everything that gives him grief, you would do it.

„I‘m so sorry“ he whispers again.

„I know. Trust me, I know“

„I feel like this right here is the only place where I can exist without judgement“, he admits and it makes you proud that you managed to create such a safe space for him and at the same time it breaks your heart knowing that the world is full of people watching and judging him. But truly, you feel like you‘re only returning the favour. He‘s been there for you through the worst parts of your life, always turning up for you when it mattered. A part of you fears you might no longer be here had it not been for him.

„Maybe here with you is even the only place I might get better… being with you makes me feel less helpless“

„Next time just come over without stopping at the dealer‘s before, yeah?“ you joke but on the inside your heart is burning. You want him and you want him to want you.

Matty smiles and you can feel him relaxing even more. Your hand is still tangled in his hair, thumb still stroking over his cheek. He closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths. He‘s exhausted and his body is begging for sleep. „It‘s okay, you can sleep, I‘ll stay here“ you say softly and you‘re not sure if he heard you because all his muscles are relaxing and he‘s lightly snoring, seemingly fast asleep.

You just sit here and watch him. You think about that one time he told you he didn’t feel worthy of any love or affection coming his way which makes you acutely aware of all the love you hold for him, that you don’t know where to put, that has nowhere to go. You wish you could tell him. Tell him that you‘ve never loved anyone like you love him. That you feel like you‘re missing an integral part of yourself when he‘s not there with you. That you love every part of him, even the ones he himself hates, that his vulnerability only makes you respect him more.

It is there and then, sitting on your living room floor in front of your couch with a sleeping Matty on it, that you decide you‘re gonna tell him. Tomorrow. You lay your head down on the couch, telling yourself you‘re only going to rest your eyes a bit before you fall asleep as well.

Little do you know that when Matty wakes up from a weird dream in the middle of the night and finds you asleep in what must be an uncomfortable position on the floor next to him, he decides that in the morning he is going to get over himself, be brave for once and just tell you that he loves you.

#matty fic #matty healy #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fanfic #the1975fanfic #matty healy x reader #this is horrible but whatever

[dave-me0wstaine]

HIII Okay so, I'm going absolutely fucking feral over bad boy!80's Dave x innocent!reader, can you make a full fic on it pleaaase?

ofc!! i was planning on making a full fic + a few blurbs of badboy! 80s dave bc i've legit been thinking about this scenario for a few weeks!!

like i imagine that the two of you meet at a record store he works at, and the instant he sees you he's smitten. you just look so soft and sweet, and the little babydoll dress you have on drives him insane. it doesn't take long for dave to start speaking to you, asking you if you need help with anything, or making flirtatious small talk, giving compliments, etc. your shy responses only make him that much more obsessed with you; your demeanor matches your exterior; you're so kind and soft-spoken, and so innocent.

to dave's surprise, you're surprisingly eager to befriend him. truth is, you've only been coming into the record store the past couple of weeks to see him. you couldn't put your finger on it, but something about him was just so...alluring. anytime he looked at you, you instantly felt butterflies in your tummy, and whenever his calloused hands would brush against your soft ones while handing you whatever you purchased, the butterflies seemed to move in-between your legs. and sometimes, you'd go home and wiggle your cunt around on your pillow, trying desperately to get the feeling to go away, but always end up frustrated and confused at what you're feeling.

not long after you meet, the two of you are inseparable, much to your parents' dismay. you're always hanging around the record store, talking to him while he straightens the shelves, while he's smoking on his break, etc., and he does the same at your little part-time job at the bookstore, always hanging around if he himself doesn't have to work.

eventually, he starts sneaking into your window at night, under the guise of just "hanging out". which is true, for a while at least. until, dave starts suggesting that the two of you lay together, cuddle, maybe share the occasional kiss (or makeout session). and you, ever the innocent girl, are convinced by dave's assurances. "this is what friends are supposed to do, baby."

and one night, just like always, you hear the tell-tale sign that you have a special visitor; you hear your window slowly creak open, and hear the familiar gruffness of dave's voice.

"hey, sweet girl," he drawls out, making his way to where you're stretched out on your stomach on the bed, reading a book.

"hi davie." your voice rings out sweetly, and a shy smile is on your lips. you feel his weight on shift on the bed, and his hand rakes gently through your hair. again, you begin to feel butterflies low in your stomach, and as a result you unknowingly squeeze your thighs together. dave, ever the observant, takes note of this.

"what's wrong, sweetheart?" he questions, and when you simply shoot him a confused look, he elaborates. "you're wigglin' around."

"s'nothin'," you slur out, hiding your face, which is getting hotter by the second, into your bed covers. you always seem to get flustered each time you hang out with dave, and you're not quite sure why. dave however, gets a sly look on his face as he realizes exactly what it is you're feeling.

"oh, i think i know, hun." dave purrs out, running his hands over your hips. he ghosts his fingers across your lower back, across your slightly-too-short pajama bottoms. slowly, his fingers start to dip underneath the fabric.

"d'you trust me?" he whispers to you, fingers hesitant and antsy. as much as he'd like to act on impulse, he doesn't want to scare you away from him. dave doesn't think his heart would take it if you pushed him away because of something he did.

"of course i do," you chirp happily. "you're being silly, davie."

"yeah? then lemme make you feel good," his fingers begin pulling the fabric of your pajama shorts and underwear down your ass, and he feels you tense underneath his touch. "if you wanna stop-"

"n-no! no, please, don't," you cut him off, perhaps a bit too eagerly, and you start to feel embarrassed. but before that feeling can truly set in, another one emerges; the same feeling you get whenever the two of you kiss, except this time it's stronger. much stronger.

"fuck, you're so pretty, baby." dave mutters, almost to himself. with a large hand, he spreads your cheeks apart, marveling at the glistening slick coating your cunt. just the sight alone makes his brain feel like tv static, and without thinking, he lowers his head down and sticks his tongue out to get a taste of you.

you yelp out of surprise, and before long, dave's manhandled you so that your ass is up in the air, and your face is shoved into your soft, pink blankets as he eats you from behind. the noises that the sound of his mouth on your cunt makes your legs quiver, and you whine even louder into the blankets.

"gotta be quieter, baby," dave pulls away momentarily, out of breath, to gently scold you, but really, he doesn't care. as far as he's concerned he's on cloud nine, eating out a girl that he's had a crush on for months at this point, making her cream on his tongue. if he died in the next 10 minutes, he'd die a happy man.

"m's-sorry!" you squeak out, and bite down on the blankets to muffle out any of your noises. it's a miracle you had enough sense to do this, considering how out of your mind with pleasure you were. so out of your mind, in-fact, that your orgasm took both you and dave by surprise (not that you'd really know what that felt like anyway, considering you've never had one before).

dave continues to lap at your clit while you come down from your orgasm, and overstimulates you to the point that you're trying in vain to wiggle your hips - which are held tightly in his grasp - away from his mouth. eventually, after delivering a sharp tug to his hair, he begrudgingly pulls away, flipping your body over so that you're on your back, looking up at him with unfocused, sleepy eyes.

"feel better, pretty girl?" he asks you, softly brushing stray hairs away from your face and behind your ear. you can only nod, your voice hoarse from the whines and moans you desperately tried to muffle.

he huffs out a small laugh through his nose at the sight of you, dazed, flushed, and out of breath, and plants a chaste kiss to your lips.

"let's get you in bed, sleepy girl."

#also anon ilysm for this ask!! #also im definitely making this an au #its criminal if i dont make it an au atp #dave mustaine #dave mustaine smut #dave mustaine x reader #dave mustaine fanfiction #bad boy! dave #megadeth #megadeth smut #megadeth x reader #megadeth fanfiction #asks

[nerdpoe]

In the Shadow of Speculation Part 3

Part 1, Part 2, Ao3

The chapter TW blood tw broken bones tw description of a flashback abled verbiage tw self hatred tw (mild) forced parenthood equivalent (but in a ghost culture way.)

Ellie peeked at her older brother from behind her physics textbook.

Danny was surrounded by notes, a treatise on ancient magic’s uses in modern medicine spread out in front of him. He’d been studying it longer than she had, and showed no signs of stopping.

Frostbite had not only been delighted to teach Danny medicine, but he’d taken it so seriously that apparently, her older brother had involuntarily signed up for basically ghost college.

Ellie felt a thrill at being able to share the experience with him.

She knew it had bugged him, to miss out on going to college at the same time as his friends.

But!

She was now going to college at the same time as Danny! So it was up to her and whoever she chose to share the college experience with him!

She’d drag Danny to all the keggers! She just…had to find them first. The one’s without drugs, or the ending with a shoot-out thing.

“Ellie,” Danny interrupted her thoughts, and she realized she’d been staring directly into his eyes for a bit, “How about we take a break? I found a recipe for those cranberry-almond bread crisps things you like from Costco.”

Ellie felt her jaw drop.

There was a recipe for that?

Before she could pull herself together enough to answer, Danny was already laughing and standing up.

“It’s the first batch I’ve ever made, but you seem to like them enough to tell me if I did it wrong.”

Ellie quite literally tripped over her own feet following him to the kitchen, only to stare reverently at the tupperware he presented to her.

Then she dug in, of course, because her job was to taste test and she took that job very seriously.

The score was: perfect.

They weren’t exactly the same, but they were homemade, which made them better automatically.

Ellie sat on the counter and enjoyed her snack as Danny puttered around the kitchen, making actual lunch.

His big brother instincts hit hard when they hit, and it looked like Ellie was going to have some leftovers going home with her. Danny tended to…overcompensate.

Which was stupid, because his ages didn’t change him being her bro.

“…You know you’re my brother no matter what, right?” Ellie asked between mouthfuls of baked goods, “Like, I don’t care what age you are or what form you’re in; you’re my brother.”

Danny slowed down.

Then he started for the flour.

Ah, fuck. He was going to bake away his feelings again.

“Danny wait, please, I only have so much room in my pantry and fridge-“

~~~~~~

Alfred paused in front of the hallway mirror.

Mask firmly in place? Check. Amulet against scrying? Check. Special jacket meant to act as a talisman against offensive magic? Check.

He was as ready as he would ever be to enter the same room as the Justice League Dark.

The butler pushed the trolley into the elevator and began his descent.

He had to admit to himself, he was…curious. Normally, Master Bruce did not allow the Justice League Dark into the Cave.

It wasn’t his place, he knew that, but something quite serious must have happened for them to be allowed so close to Master Bruce’s home.

In fact, his employer hadn’t even had time to specify if it was the entire Justice League Dark or just a few people from it. Master Bruce had just dropped everything-quite literally-and made for the Cave.

The elevator made a soft chime as it reached it’s destination, and the door opened.

Alfred pushed out the trolley, completely silent.

It was meant for the cave; cushioned wheels, rubber padding to absorb the little bumps.

Which meant that Constantine had absolutely no idea Alfred was standing behind him, waiting for him to stop talking so he could offer refreshments.

“Bats, you don’t bloody understand; our entire dimension was nearly wiped out!”

“I would love to understand. You won’t explain. A text message saying the world was about to end was not explaining, it was fear-mongering. This entire conversation could have been an email.”

Constantine threw his hands up.

“Phantom was holdin’ the Infinite Realms back! An entire dimension, Batman! It’s denizens are built for combat, and if Phantom decides to turn from small-time villain theft to Actual World Ending events, that’s it! End game! Is that email material for you?”

Master Bruce grunted.

“Five years ago, mate, five bleedin’ years ago your government nearly buggered all of us. So yeah, alright, allow me to explain; how did this slip by you? You? The great Detective?”

“We were unaware-“

“Mate I cannot begin to explain how little that matters to spirits and demons strong enough to be gods.”

“Constantine, we are taking measures to ensure this does not happen again.”

“We need to do more than that, Bats; I’m sayin’ we need to…to do something to get their trust! Get on Phantom’s good side, turn ‘em to the side of good, whatever it-“

“Phantom is on the Justice League Roster, Constantine. He’s on the list of potential allies in emergencies, and we have already established a good relationship with him. He’s not actually a villain, he’s a trainer for young heroes. You would know this if you kept up with that list.”

The ‘like you’re supposed to’ went unsaid.

Constantine opened his mouth. Closed it. Pulled out his phone and frantically pulled something up.

Dropped the phone.

Stood there staring at his own hand as he processed what he realized everyone had known but him.

Alfred took advantage of his distraction to place a cup of tea into the man’s hand.

“Perhaps you should sit down, sir,” the Butler suggested.

Constantine drank the entire cup of tea in one go and sat on the floor.

~~~~~~

Dan crossed his arms and stood his ground, careful to keep his face blank as he stared at Danny.

“You know you can’t do this in human form,” Dan sighed, “So the costume needs to be for the ghost one.”

“I think I can do great in human form-“

“It’s not healthy to keep your other state of being locked away, Runt. Plus, it’ll make it a hell of a lot harder to pinpoint who you are.”

“…I don’t want to.”

Dan felt steam hiss out of his nostrils, and tried to reign in his temper.

Ellie stepped in while he calmed down.

“C’mon, Danny! Please? Please, please, please? It’s super cute c’mon!”

Danny’s face turned red as he tried to deny that, covering his face as he sank down on the couch.

Dan carefully did not mention that Ellie was…kinda right. Dan was possibly biased due to fucked up ghost instinct, though.

“Danny,” Dan said quietly, “Robin was thirteen when I squared off against him, and he was really the only threat out of all those kid heroes. It’s fine; no one will bat an eye.”

This was important. The little Twerp would get more to feed his obsession if he was in ghost form while he did it, and it would give him time to actually be in his other form.

Both things he’d been trying to avoid.

But Dan was, as usual, willing to be the Bad Guy for Little Him.

Danny’s face grew redder.

The kid sighed.

A flash of light filled the room.

And a twelve year old looking ghost kid in a hospital shift sat in his place. The prosthetic, meant for an adult man, flopped to the side, unable to stay on the leg far too small for it.

Ellie made a soft, cooing trill and started patting at his hair.

Dan bravely held his own chirp in.

Danny, for his part, glared at his hands.

“Alright kid, let’s get you suited up,” Dan said after composing himself, instinct screaming at him to coddle the Twerp.

He wouldn’t do that, naturally.

It wasn’t like Danny was actually his kid, and neither of them would know how to recover from a lapse like that.

He turned away from the pouting kid on the cough and went into said kids bedroom instead, finding the prosthetic for his ghost form hidden in the back of his closet.

Dan frowned.

Hidden away like it was, that shit was indicating Little him hadn’t even tried to transform since he’d gotten to Gotham.

That…was so unhealthy. It was probably going to set back his recovery if he kept it up.

He’d have to ask Red Hood to keep tabs on how often the new Medic-hero went out, so he’d be able to chart how often he was transforming.

He knew the kid had issues with…well, all of it. His time as a core had reversed his age, and he’d only stopped regressing a year after Dan had left him with Frostbite. As far as Danny knew, he’d fallen unconscious a sixteen year old and woken up as a ten year old.

His mortal body had continued to age, chained by the constraints of the Timeline. So when he did transform, he was going from one form to a drastically different one.

Dan knew that the changes were probably extremely uncomfortable.

Dan also knew that he’d pushed far enough that night, convincing Tiny to transform against his will.

So he opted to say nothing about it to Danny, instead focusing on attaching the tiny prosthetic to the tiny leg.

“Decided to go apocalyptic style,” Dan hummed, testing the edges to ensure it was aligned properly, “Modified gas mask, only on the lower face, goggles optional, basic kevlar, medical satchel from the Far Frozen, all black, no identifiers.”

“Yeah, about that; are you sure you don’t wanna put like, a red cross or something?” Ellie cut in, her patting stopping as she leaned over their tiniest sibling.

Danny shook his head, a pout that Dan pretended not to notice on his face.

“No; identifiers work both ways, villains would be more likely to target me.” 

“Smart; keep them off your back long enough to move people out of the way. And what’s the plan if you get dragged into a fight?” Dan asked mildly, leaning back and looking up into a face that was far too young.

“End it.” Danny’s face was far too young to look that serious and dead-eyed, and Dan’s core lurched at letting a weak and injured ghostling free to enter into fights already.

“Not in a way that’ll hurt you, though,” Ellie sang as she danced towards the kitchen to raid Danny’s fridge.

The serious look faded, and Dan’s core eased a little.

“Don’t worry, I’ll dip as soon as I can.”

Dan nodded and stood up, reaching down to help the kid up.

“Well, get the fuck out of your own house then. Time to get to work.”

Danny gave him a shit-eating grin and tugged the gas mask into place, already fading from view.

~~~~~~

Danny floated down the streets of Crime Alley, not even bothering to hide himself with invisibility.

He’d already performed triage on bystanders in a gang fight, set a muggers broken leg and ensured he knew the physical therapy he’d need to prevent it from becoming a chronic issue, and had gone over pretty much every homeless kid checking for lice or sickness, and treating it as he saw signs of either.

He was loathe to admit it, but Dan had been right. Doing acts of ‘protection’ while in ghost form fed his core far more than doing it in human form.

It was just.

He just.

His hands were too small.

His voice was too high.

He was too vulnerable.

The shadows were too big, too dark, and he hated it when they turned off the lights, he could never see what they’d done to him this time-

“Hey, new supes-you’s a medic, right?”

Danny blinked, and he was standing on a sidewalk in Crime Alley while a concerned Prostitute stared down at him.

He shook himself.

“Yea, do you need treatment?” Danny winced a bit as his voice cracked, and he clutched at his bag a little tighter.

Her eyes bored into his own as she searched for something, before her expression got softer.

“Me’n some of th’ girls were boutta turn in, but Joanne had some rough Johns t’night. Need some bones set and some stitches. You game?”

Danny tilted his head, assessing her.

She was not lying.

He allowed his body to deny gravity and floated up, nodding.

The woman led him to one of the better hotels in Crime Alley, and Danny caught a glimpse of a rather large man shouting at some other men.

From the pieces of conversation he could gather, that man was Joanne’s pimp, and he was ultra-pissed that she’d been hurt.

The woman in front of him gave a short whistle, and when the man’s head turned towards her she held a finger to her lips.

Her other hand made some sort of subtle gesture, but it wasn’t ASL and Danny had no idea what it could have meant.

It must have meant some variation of ‘calm down’, though, as the man stopped yelling, and even went so far as to keep a respectful distance from Danny as he was tugged past older man.

The yelling didn’t start up again until the door to the hotel closed behind him.

Then Danny was taken to Joanne, and…she could probably do with a hospital instead of some kid hero.

Multiple lacerations, visibly broken arm and fingers-it wasn’t pretty. But Danny had seen worse.

His right hand made an involuntary fist before he stretched out his fingers.

“She ain’t comf’table with hospitals,” Danny’s guide explained quietly, “If we don’ treat her here, she’ll jus’ treat it herself at home, an’ we all know that won’t end well.”

Danny let out a small breath through his nose and stepped forward.

“Hello, I’m just a medic, but what are you okay with me treating tonight?”

~~~~~~

There was a new hero in the Alley.

Well, sort of.

The kid was clearly a Meta of some sort, but he was only focused on medical treatment.

Jason was also pretty sure he wasn’t a Super.

He’d know that glowing white hair anywhere, and the kids blue-ish complexion and pointy ears?

Nah, this was clearly Phantom’s kid.

Shortstack was older than he’d thought he would be, but Jason wasn’t an ectobiology expert; he had no idea how Infinite Realms Beings worked.

But this one wasn’t Phantom, that much he was sure of.

He felt the temperature drop, just enough to be unnatural.

“Your kids doin’ good work.”

Phantom hummed in agreement, slowly filtering into the visible spectrum beside Jason.

“Why Gotham, though?”

Phantom tensed.

Jason waited.

He was patient like that.

“The kid’s…sick. He can’t fight like I can, not yet.”

Jason couldn’t help but feel relief at that admission, if he was being honest with himself.

“But he’s a protection spirit. He has to protect, or he’ll do the ghost equivalent of starve.”

“Okay, alright; so have him help people and protect them as something that wouldn’t draw too much negative attention.” Jason nodded, starting to see the full picture.

“Yeah, and Gotham’s got uh…good ghost juice. For ghosts. You wouldn’t really get it, it’s a ghost thing.”

Jason turned to face the intimidating War Machine of an anti-hero, only to find the man wearing a perfectly serious expression.

He’d really just let that abomination of words tumble out of his mouth with a completely straight face.

“Fine, I get what you’re really here for. We’ll watch out for him.”

“Bats might have an issue.”

“Fuck Batman, a medic is a good idea.”

“No, I was saying if he had an issue that you should point him to me.”

Jason let out a wordless hum, watching the tiny head of glowing white hair bobbing on the streets below them.

“You think you could win against the Bat?” 

“In my previous world I not only won against him, but I murdered his friends and family. Yes, I can win against the Bat.” Phantom drawled, truth in every word he said.

Truth, and regret.

“Damn, threat received loud and clear. I’ll tell Batman where he can take his complaints, then.”

They tailed the kid for a bit, and Jason watched as Heather broke the kid out of a flashback on her way to Leslie's.

Heather, smart woman she was, recognized what was happening and did what Heather was prone to do; take immediate steps to help someone in need.

She distracted the kid.

Flashed the sign for ‘inside voices’ at Cody to make him shut up, and got the kid off the streets and away from those who would have taken advantage of Phantom’s protege’s lapse in concentration.

Phantom was a tense livewire next to him, energy shimmering at his fingertips.

“He started out in Crime Alley, Phantom, and we watch out for our own. He’ll be safer here than he would in Bristol.”

Phantom forced himself to nod, and with a deep, shaking breath the energy dissipated.

“…I guess I’ll just have to leave him to it, then.”

Jason watched the man turn away and leave stiffly, and found himself wishing Bruce had enough trust to do the same for his own children.

Then he shoved the thought from his mind and turned his attention back to the hotel; he had a toddler ghost to babysit.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #phanfic #in the shadow of speculation #finally wrote the next part #lmfao i did not realize how much time had passed fml #allusions to past torture #blood tw #broken bones tw #forced parenthood tw #description of a flashback #abled verbiage tw #self hatred tw #long post

[iiconicxpersona]

Whatever It Takes.

Javier Peña x f!Reader

Warnings: this fic features a scene from s02e03 Our Man in Madrid and that episode is a trigger warning in its own, but if you need specifics then this fic includes ANGST, mvrder, su!c!d3 attempt, depression, alcoholism. MINORS DNI & READ AT YOUR OWN RISK (I cannot stress that enough)

Word count: 3.4k

Summary: You and Javier get tagged along in a manhunt gone wrong with the return of Colonel Carrillo. After the tragedy that occurs, you look to Javier for comfort only to get heartbroken when he seeks comfort from another woman.

From the moment you were assigned the Escobar case in Bogotá, you prepared yourself for the best and the worst. You knew that once this case was finally over, and God only knew how long that would take, you would not return to Texas like the woman you were when you left. However, it didn’t seem to matter exactly how much you prepared yourself ahead of time in all aspects; nothing was ever going to prepare you for all the horrors you had witnessed and the ones still yet to come.

“We’re all in. Whatever it takes.”

Words you, Agent Javier Peña, and Agent Steve Murphy repeated to each other almost frequently to remind yourselves and each other that this is what you signed up for when you agreed to do whatever it took to catch Escobar and every single person whoever took a single dollar from him. Of course, Messina and the entire force did everything they could to keep your missions restricted, but to catch a bad guy; you must be willing to break some rules.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

Colonel Carrillo was the King of playing by his own rules. His methods were cruel and relentless, but they were effective in one way or another. But those same methods ultimately led him to be transferred to Spain. When he was brought back on the team by the Colombian government, it shook you to the core, and the only problem was that you could no longer tell if that was good or bad.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

The first mission at hand with Colonel Carrillo is to track down every spotter Escobar had hiding in the area. It seems simple enough, considering the spotters were mainly children under eighteen.

“Peña, Y/L/N, you come with me.” Carrillo orders.

You and Javier exchange looks of concern to each other and then to Steve, who's disappointed when Carrillo tells him to stay behind for radio contact.

“You be careful out there,” Steve adds as you and Javier follow Carrillo to one of the unmarked cars.

“You got your vest on?” Javier asks without looking at you.

You nod and pat your stomach hard enough to make the bulletproof padding audible. “I never leave without it.”

“Good. This could get ugly, so I want you to always stay beside me. Understand?” He finally looks at you while still walking forward.

“Jesus, Javi, this isn’t my first rodeo.” You scoff.

He rolls his eyes, clearly not amused by your comment. “Cariño, I’m fucking serious. These kids are dangerous, and the last thing I want is for you to underestimate one, and he holds you at gunpoint or worse.”

Just then, you remembered what Javi had told you the day Steve’s adopted baby girl, Oliva, was rescued, and you instantly regretted trying to be sarcastic. He never told Steve, but while they were chasing down the two men responsible for murdering Olivia’s biological family and you were in the house guarding her, Javier came close to catching one of the men until a little boy caught him off guard from behind and held him at gunpoint. Javier was sure that at any moment, the kid would pull the trigger and kill him, or worse, he would miss his shot, and Javier would have to kill the kid instead. Thankfully, once the guy he was chasing got away, so did the kid, and ever since then, Javier knew that with the right amount of money and power, Escobar could make anyone do anything.

“Always stay beside me. Understand?” Javier demandingly repeated.

You nod. “I understand.”

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

One by one, each kid that Escobar hired as a spotter was taken into custody. However, Carrillo had other plans instead of taking them straight to the station for interrogation like you and Javier thought.

Given Carrillo's extreme methods in the past, you should’ve known that this wouldn’t be as simple as you had hoped. Though you figured that because they were just kids, what could go wrong?

Everything.

One right next to the other, at least seven boys are lined up in the middle of a dark alley with their hands behind their heads and sitting upright on their knees. You stand next to Javier off in the distance while Carrillo paces slowly in front of them. As you examine their faces, it breaks your heart to see how young they are. Some look at least sixteen, but the youngest looks six or seven.

They try to keep stone-cold faces on while Carrillo attempts to scare them straight. A couple of the boys laugh at him and make insults in Spanish.

“Shut up, kid.” Javier mumbles.

You do your best to look as emotionless as possible, but mentally, you are frightened to know what is going through Carrillo’s mind, especially when he pulls out his gun and begins loading it in front of them.

One of the older boys laughs and asks Carrillo if he should be scared.

“No,” Carrillo replies.

BANG.

You stood there and watched the now young lifeless body slowly fall to the ground. Aside from the streetlights, the alleyway is pitch dark due to the summer evening, but you’d swear you could see everywhere the boy’s blood had splattered as if it happened in daylight.

It took every fiber in your being not to lose your cool or vomit at the scene. You were even too afraid to reach for Javier, who was only a couple of inches away from you, for some comfort. Although judging from how his body tensed up and the look on his face, he was just as distraught inside as you were.

What was Carrillo thinking? Even if the kid tried to be a fearless macho man about it, he was still just a kid. There were plenty of other ways Carrillo could’ve tried to prove a point to them about the dangers of working with someone like Escobar. Regardless of whether you liked it, he gave them a harsh reality check.

Carrillo then takes one bullet from his gun and hands it to the youngest boy, telling him to give it to Escobar and let him know who it is from. You watch helplessly as the boy takes the bullet with tears running down his face and stuffs it in his pocket. Then Carrillo finally sets the remaining boys free. You immediately cling to Javier once they are out of sight.

He hesitates for a moment before slowly wrapping his arms around you, still in shock from what just happened as you tried your best to hold back your sobs.

“Cariño…” Javier struggles to find the right words. How could he comfort you when he couldn’t convince himself that everything was fine? “We have to go.” He finally said.

Whatever it takes.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

This is one of those nights you wish Javier wouldn’t depend on a cheap hooker to help him forget.

About six months ago, after almost losing you during a shootout mission, Javier suggested that you move in with him “for your safety,” which you hesitantly accepted two months later. Murphy always teased how Javier always had a soft spot for you, and although you couldn’t deny you also had a soft spot for Javier, you tried to keep your crush precisely that: just a crush. Even if it nearly killed you inside when he would come home late smelling of sex, cheap perfume, and cigarettes.

While staring blankly at a pile of paperwork, your mind couldn’t stop replaying what happened less than an hour ago. Steve tried talking to you about how frustrated he was about Carrillo not trusting him to tag along with the mission, but his words only went in one ear and out of the other.

“You should be grateful.” You finally spoke up, still not taking your eyes off the paperwork.

At that moment, Steve gave up on his argument. As much as he hated feeling like an outsider because of his looks, nationality, or poor Spanish, he knew his troubles were nothing compared to what you and Javier were going through at this very moment.

You could hear Javier mumbling under his breath on the phone at his desk, which generally meant he was talking to one of his hookers. At that point, you were already two shots deep in tequila and resting your head on your arms to hide your face like the game you used to play at school as a kid.

You hated the jealous feeling that crept up inside you as he talked to her about meeting with her in the next half an hour.

Why tonight of all nights? Or if he needed a good fuck to help him forget, then why couldn’t it be with you? You were there. You saw everything happen just as he did. Did it ever occur to him that maybe you needed a night of meaningless sex to help you forget everything too? In all the years you had known Peña, he had no shame in screwing every woman in sight, but he never once offered to put his hands on you. Sure, you flirt with each other almost every day, but would there ever be more? Were you not pretty enough? Or not skinny enough? Or because you didn’t open your legs to every man in sight?

“Cariño, you all right?” Javier’s low voice startles you out of your thoughts. He places his hands on your shoulders and begins to massage you once you sit up and lean back into your chair, feeling your body relax under his touch.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You lie. Your voice is now hoarse from choking back all the tears and emotions.

Javier leans down and wraps his arms around your upper body with his chin resting on your shoulder. “Don’t you disappear on me, okay?”

You nod, and he kisses your cheek and gives you one last squeeze.

“I gotta run a few errands, but I’ll be home late.”

Desperation kicks into high gear, and you cling to his arms for dear life. “Wait, you’re leaving?”

“It’s just for a few hours. I need to clear my head. You understand, right?” He pulls away from you once your grip loosens, but you still reach for him.

“Well yeah, but…”

“But what!” He snaps at you in frustration.

Then it hits you in that very second like a ton of bricks: you and Javier Peña will never be more than just friends.

You let go of his hand when the tears build up again. “You know what? Just go. I won’t wait up.”

Realizing what he had just done, a wave of guilt washes over Javier, and he slowly steps towards you. “Shit, cariño I’m sor…”

“I said go!”

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

By the night's end, you had already downed most of the tequila. Murphy knew Javier would kill him if he had let you go home by yourself, so being the southern gentleman he is, he gave you a ride home.

On the inside, you were trying to fight off too many emotions. You didn’t dare to let Steve see you cry, especially after witnessing your little moment with Javier. For what? So that he can tell Javi, and they can laugh at how pathetic you are behind your back? Though you knew they would never do that, it was still a fear that helped keep your emotions in check.

“Thanks for the ride, Murphy.” You half smiled at him.

“Of course.” He could hear the pain in your voice, but he tried his best to keep cool. You’re already going through enough as it is. “Hey, just know I’m right next door if you need anything.”

“You’re a good man, Steve. Connie’s a lucky girl.” You lean in to give him a small peck on the cheek before letting yourself out of the car.

You dread every single step toward your shared apartment with Javi. You dread it so much that if you were stable enough, you’d walk to your old apartment two buildings over. Most of your stuff is still there, considering you had just moved in with Javier four months ago. You had only brought essential things like clothes, makeup, bathroom stuff, and a few sentimental values. But the fact that you were barely making it on your own to Javi’s front door was enough to make you rethink.

Once you stumble inside, the first thing you noticed was how quiet it is. Too quiet. Not that you and Javi were noisy people when he didn’t have women over, which thankfully wasn’t often ever since you moved in. But even then, the apartment is never this quiet. You hate the silence. It only made the events of tonight replay louder and louder in your brain.

Throwing off your coat and shoes, you let them land wherever as you make your way to the radio and turn it on to a local rock station with the volume on full blast. You swerve over to Javier’s liquor cabinet and mindlessly scan around at each of his selections. The one bottle of bourbon he saved for special occasions had caught your eye. Judging from how rich the bottle looks, it must be one of his most expensive liquors. Your conscious told you to stop, but the music and your drunk state of mind were enough to tune it out. You grab the bottle from the glass shelf and gnaw the cap off before downing the liquor like water.

You never smoked a cigarette, but once you found Javier’s carton in the cabinet, you pulled out a fresh pack and ripped off the plastic wrap. Javier was already a heavy smoker as it was, but he seemed to smoke a lot more when he was stressed out, and you wanted to know what it was like. If it helps Javi calm down, why wouldn’t it help you?

You flick the first white stick out of the small paper box as if you were already a natural to smoking. Not that you would admit it out loud, but after seeing Javi do it a few times, you were tempted and tried it for shits and giggles.

Lighting the stick between your lips, you inhaled deeply only to choke out the nicotine and smoke immediately. “I can’t believe Javi likes this shit.” You gag.

The first few puffs were disgusting, and if it weren’t for the bourbon making it easier to wash down the horrid taste, you would’ve thrown up after the first puff. But soon enough, you were already on your second and third cigarette. Each smoke is smoother than the last.

Dancing around in the living room in a tank top and panties, with a cigarette in your mouth and another bottle of whiskey in your hands, you were on cloud nine, and for the first time that night, nothing else mattered. You weren’t aware of how much you had already drunk or how you were already almost finished with the first pack of cigarettes. You even forgot you were in Javier’s apartment until the clock caught your attention. It’s 2:30 am, and Javier still isn’t home. If you were sober, you probably would’ve been worried sick about him, but his delay made you angry. He didn’t have to spend the night with another cheap hooker, and if he did feel the need to, he could’ve at least called you to let you know he wasn’t coming home.

How dare he? After everything you two had been through tonight, how dare he leave you alone? How dare he not be here so you two can try to comfort each other? How dare he yell at you in front of Murphy, embarrassing you when you only wanted him to stay? How dare he be a typical douchebag and leave you just to get his dick wet by some random bitch he barely knows? How dare he not see that you care about him so damn much? How fucking dare Javier Peña!?

At that moment, you refused to reason anymore and instead let your anger-fueled adrenaline take complete control of your body.

His precious liquor cabinet is the first item to fall victim to your rage. You push it off the wall with full force and watch it slowly crash to the ground, just like the little boy did in the alley. Then you grab every bottle that didn’t break in the fall and throw them in random areas of the living room. Only the shattering noise, your cries, and the loud music fill the void that is Javier’s apartment.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

You don’t remember how you wound up on the bathroom floor next to the toilet with more bourbon in one hand and your pistol in the other. Your adrenaline was still pumping through your veins uncontrollably, and you couldn’t feel any of the cuts that formed all over your body from the broken glass. Miraculously, none of which were too deep to leave a permanent scar.

There’s no telling how long ago your rampage began, but suddenly the radio that was once blaring rock music had gone silent. You didn’t care. You sat there hugging your knees with the hand holding the pistol while continuing to drink.

You could hear heavy footsteps slowly inching closer to the bathroom, and then he turned the corner with his pistol pointing directly at you.

“C—Cariño…” Javier mumbled in shock.

He was about to rush to you, but then he froze in place the second you extended your arm and aimed your pistol at him. “Don’t. Come. Any. Closer.” You demand.

Suddenly, every ounce of color was flushed from Javi’s face. He slowly put his gun down on the sink and raised his hands in surrender. The image made you chuckle as he slowly dropped to his knees before you.

“Baby, plea—”

“SHUT UP!” You scream, and it catches you both off guard. “All I wanted was for you to stay with me. To help me forget. But no! Typical Javier Peña; you had to think with your dick! You didn’t even care enough to call me to let me know when you’ll be home or to see if I was all right. Do you realize that I probably would’ve never made it home if it wasn't for Murphy? Thank God he’s a fucking decent human being, unlike you!” At this point, you couldn’t hold back the tears as you cock the gun, making Javier tense up in fear for the second time.

“Cariño, I’m sorry. I fucked up, and I’m sorry. I should’ve been here for you, and I know that now. But please don’t do this.” Javier pleaded.

“It’s too late.” You choke out.

Javier felt his heart stop when you pointed the gun barrel at your temple. In his mind, he had already snatched the gun from your hand, but physically he couldn’t move.

However, once you pulled the trigger, the only sound filling the apartment was a click.

You gasp at the reality of what you were about to do and drop everything in your hands. Only then did Javier find the strength to stumble over and embrace you tightly in his arms.

You hyperventilate and bawl into his shirt as Javi tries to calm you down. Once again, your hands cling to him for dear life. “I’m so sorry, Javi!” You cry.

“Shh. Shh. It’s all right, baby. It’s all right. I’m here now.” He strokes your hair and slowly rocks you back and forth in his arms until you finally fall asleep.

Javier gently picks you up bridal style and carries you to his room, where he could grab a wet towel and some hydrogen peroxide to clean some of your cuts off before tucking you into bed. He took a second to sit there and stare at you as you slept peacefully. If he didn’t feel guilty before, he does now.

Javier sometimes liked to think of himself as a sharp man, but he was blind when it came to you. Murphy often told him that anyone could see you two were head over heels for each other, but he never accepted it as the truth. He never thought you cared about him as more than a friend. And he blew it when he finally had his chance to prove to you that he was worthy of your heart.

There was no telling how long it would take you to forgive him, but he was willing to do whatever it took to regain your trust. He’s all in now, and this time, he wouldn’t make this mistake again.

#narcos #narcos fic #javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña x y/n #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction

[anystalker707]

Admiral, my Admiral

Pairing: Portgas D. Ace x [gender neutral] Admiral! Reader Words: ~ 2 500 Summary: An unusual relationship that starts with a deal. Tags: no talk to him (ace) he angy / he gets to be babied tho / um, there's angst if you don't mind

MASTERLIST

• Ace could remember passing out during a fight. His division wasn’t able to defeat the marine because they happened to run into a fucking strong division

• He tried his best to fight, but he just ended up getting weak when the spear of Sea-prism stone touched his chest and there was nothing else he could do, not even burn the ship so he would die uncaught, in the bottom of the sea; the last thing he could see was the fucking admiral walking towards him before he passed out. Where did the admiral come from, anyways?

• He woke up in a room he didn’t recognize, but could feel the familiar movement of the sea under him, so he was a little relieved he hadn’t been taken anywhere on land. Or maybe it was actually worse, if he thought well

• The whole place was too... patterned. Minimalist. It seems like a guest room and, when he leaves the room, the place keeps the same dark gray, white and blue colors. He keeps going until seeing a sign with the Marine symbol on it makes him shout and try to start lighting everything on fire until he notices the anklet on his leg and it is made out of that goddamned stone

• It is stupid, but he still jumps on you in an attempt to kill you with his bare fists at the moment he finds you at the desk only to be sent flying into the sea with a kick and rescued by your subordinates

• Ace is so full of anger, so small compared to you as he stands on the deck and stares at you—if only looks could kill...—while you don’t even bother to order him to be chained or anything. He feels like he will combust when you look at him and have the audacity to grin

• Your subordinates seem to know something that Ace doesn’t, but none of them pipe a word about it, all of them always talking the minimum possible with him and ignoring his comments whenever they get him food. He almost feels like when he was taken in by Whitebeard all over again, but this time, the feeling isn’t exactly welcoming because the only one being nice to him there is the fucking admiral, even if you can get on his nerves with your sarcasm and superiority complex. That is living hell

• At first, he thinks you will execute him—doesn’t happen. Then, you’re probably taking him to some headquarters to make him prisoner or something—also wrong. He tries to bribe one of your subordinates into telling him, but it never happens; not like he has anything that may interest them

• All he needs to stop fussing around so much is a letter from Garp telling him to trust you; not really the most convincing thing, but surely does leave a thought in the back of Ace’s head

• If you don’t kill him and have a goal, then the logic is simple; you need Ace alive, so you won’t kill him even if he’s the most insufferable fucker in the whole world

• Spending a few weeks on your ship does make Ace soften, though. He ends up finding himself in late night talks with you on the deck because, as much as he doesn’t want to chat, your sweet talk does keep him going. Not to mention the way he finds comfort in you, somehow

• Ace softening up doesn’t mean peace. His way of showing he is more comfortable around you resolves itself around Ace suddenly falling asleep in the most inconvenient spaces and following you around while making the most annoying comments. It doesn’t matter that you’re an Admiral and the power you have—he will get on your nerves because that’s just how he is, even more knowing he won’t get killed no matter how much he annoys one of the strongest, best known marines and warriors out there

• “What’re you doing?” “...Paperwork.” “Well, that I can see. What’s it about, though? Can I see the files about me? You better have everything right. I’m sure my bounty would be higher if you knew everything I’ve done!” “Why don’t you go take a nap or something? Leave me alone, fire boy.” “You’re so annoying! I can’t even—” You look up from your papers and he is... sleeping again. Okay.

• “You must be receiving a great amount to be taking care of me.” “Oh, I wish I were...”

• The relationship between you two turns into something like; Ace: Yo, I’ve broken about 20 important things, almost sank your ship again and made one of your subordinates almost give up on being a Marine You: I know this and I love you

• Ace is a little suspicious if you really have any real destiny—you’re sailing without stopping at any island for longer than a couple of days and never going to any of the headquarters. Are you going against the rules and acting in secret? Really??? For real??? Damn it, someone for once should tell Ace a word about what’s going on. Not only would half of his doubts go away, but also something interesting would happen in that godforsaken ship before he went crazy

• Although, watching the admiral is quite interesting. Well, the admiral is quite interesting...

• He grows quiet for a while, spending some days processing how you are always checking on him every morning and every night before he goes to sleep, sometimes bringing you food in person and spending some of your time with him

• Why do you want to know if he is emotionally okay and has everything he needs? It's almost like you care

• Then there are those long, uncomfortable silences in which he doesn't know what to do because, maybe unintentionally, those little comments of yours and light smirks have his face turning bright red and something stirring inside his chest

• How did he even allow the admiral to get into his head like that? He can't let it continue this way, though

          “(Y/n)!” Ace whined as he walked into your office and didn’t even care about what you were doing before he threw himself on your lap, holding onto your shoulders as he dramatically leaned back.

“Ace—”

“I am afraid I am about to die! Your ship is so, so boring and your subordinates never talk to me!” He closed his eyes, making a face as if he were under a lot of pain—or at least trying to—, with no regard for the documents he almost made you ruin. “Like, why can’t they give me the combination to the vault? Or let me mess with the sails? That’s no fun!”

You would’ve chuckled if Ace weren’t being so obnoxious, so you just leaned back on the chair and observed him; he pouted at the silence and sat up properly on your lap. He takes in a breath, but you never allow him to voice whatever it is.

“Look, I am throwing you in the sea if you continue like this!”

“As if!” Ace chuckles. “You can’t k...”

Oh, it can’t be. Still, the soft snoring that comes from Ace confirms your theory and you roll your eyes, bouncing your leg lightly.

“Oi! What do you think you are doing, Ace?” You finally let go of your pen and your papers, shaking Ace a little. “Get lost, fire boy! I already forbid you from interrupting me while I’m on my paperwork! Why don’t you go read the books I lent you, hm? Go sleep in your room, at least. In the kitchen. I don't care.”

“It’s no fun without you.” Ace groaned, and you couldn’t help but to smirk and raise an eyebrow; a red tone took over his cheeks. “I—I mean, you’re the one who—”

“The one who?” You nodded for him to continue, resting your cheek against your palm. “Go on.” Ace exhaled, pressing his lips together as he looked away, and the lack of answer made you chuckle while wrapping an arm around his torso. “Oh, you don’t know what to do now that you have my full attention? Just wasting my time? I gave you rules to stay on my ship, Ace.” Your fingers held onto his jaw so he would look at you. “And I—”

Lips pressed to yours interrupted your words. Ace’s lips. You couldn’t help but to kiss back because he kept pressing his lips to yours for a few seconds, dismissing your hesitance, and even daring to hum softly once you started to kiss him back.

None of you stop. It started a chain of kisses that was enough to make you forget about your paperwork, lost in kissing the lips of a filthy pirate that fell in your hands because of a deal. Both of you had this same feeling; the spark of knowing that this was wrong and forbidden was what ignited your feelings for each other. Ace’s lips tasted like the sea, like the sweets he was eating earlier, but also tasted like freedom. A little bit of power that you had over the Marine and the World Government because no matter what you did, you knew no one would agree to have you dismissed from the Marine and they couldn't control every single action of yours.

Your fingers hooked with the hair on the back of Ace’s head to pull him away from the kiss a little. “You are down bad,” you mumbled into his ear.

• Once, Ace hears you talking to Sengoku. He sees you in your office, back to the door and with a den den mushi in hand. Your voice is calm, but not the sort of calm like you are when you raise an eyebrow at Ace then shrug in dismissal before you tell him to do whatever he pleases, no; it is the type of calm when your subordinates do something you don’t like, so you suppress your annoyance to long glares and pursed lips

• “No...” You say to the snail, “I am busy. I won’t be there for the next meeting. You already know my position in this. It is the same as Garp’s. And you know I haven’t seen Fire First. I would’ve reported already. Has he disappeared or something? You haven’t heard a thing about him for weeks.”

• And he doesn’t listen anymore. He doesn’t want to. Either way, it is enough to change the context again, from “stop locking me here” to “thanks for keeping me safe”

• You don’t understand what’s up with Ace being softer around you, but it is well welcomed. There’s something sweet about how he places a chair next to your desk and folds his arms over the table with his head on them, quietly observing you work until he falls asleep

• Actually, one night, Ace knocks on your bedroom’s door. He just walks past you and collapses on the bed at the moment you open the door. And fuck. That boy’s audacity. Whatever. It’s nice to hold onto something while you sleep

• And the fact your subordinates will walk into you making out with Ace on your lap while you’re in your office and just ignore what is happening is just... Hell, you love it

• There’s a whole new routine with Ace by your side

• The moment Ace has to leave comes quicker than you expected. It’s already time for you to return to your usual admiral duties and also for Ace to go back to the sea because there’s no longer a threat

• He can’t believe that keeping him was a whole plan to keep him safe while you, Garp and a few others did your best to convince the Marine that Portgas D. Ace was not a threat, so he shouldn’t be executed

• Ace is at loss of words, unable to formulate a thanks that’s genuine enough and expresses all of his feelings because you only fucking let him know about it when you’re dropping him at an island where Whitebeard already awaits for him. He wants to cry, to hug you, to kiss you, to ramble about how thankful he is, all at the same time—but he can’t

• You chuckle at how lost he seems, grinning happily and telling him he can go because he is safe now

• Ace doesn’t leave without giving you a kiss, a deep one

• What seemed to be a short-term thing, ends up leaving your hearts aching for more once you’re away from each other, in the sea. It is risky, it is dangerous, difficult to manage, even, but you’re picking Ace up in a random island to spend the night with you whenever you are able to, with excuses to the marine that you ended up letting him escape because your priorities were others. Sometimes he will just show up randomly with that devilish smirk on his face

• As much as you’re an admiral, your little relationship does reach the Marine’s eyes and ears, and it doesn’t seem to help them in the slightest bit because you’re not only with one of their highest potential enemies; your behavior also encourages other pirates a little too much, as if it gives them some sort of excuse or extra freedom. You’d always been a little rebel considering the Marine and World Government’s rules, so maybe you’ll go a little too far soon—if you haven't already

• Getting rid of Ace wouldn’t mean just getting rid of a big threat—it also would have you under the Marine’s control once for all

• First of all, the Marine can’t get rid of an admiral so powerful like you, so it isn’t a choice to dismiss or execute you, so that leads to Ace. Given the way you are lovesick, getting rid of Ace will teach you a lesson—and a lesson to every other marine and pirate as well—, and your head will be focused on doing your job. You won’t rebel against the only people who know your weaknesses and help you be stronger

• The new census doesn’t need you and Garp to vote; it doesn’t matter what a small biased minority things about such a threat

• You already suspect what's going on when they send you across the ocean, and it gets worse when they start to guide you to a weird island you’ve never seen before

• Held. You’re being held across the ocean because they know you can save Ace if you have the opportunity, because you’re too precious to be wasted for such an insignificant matter. You’ll just be force– I mean, invited to a confidential meeting later to establish that your relationship with Ace will be forgiven and forgotten since they know it won’t happen again and you’re such a great admiral that they can’t risk losing you. You will have to sign a few documents and be under constant watch for a few months after it

• For now, you will just sit in this cold cell knowing your love is being executed

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

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