#2100 words.. help...

[winter-parrot]

went and saw the les mis nat tour. thought i maybe wouldn't cry so much this time, was wrong. having lots of thoughts and feelings. i'm gonna dump them here in whatever tangle they come out in because i want to document some of it while it is still Fresh.

act 1

did not expect the prologue (esp on parole) to hit me that hard. i almost cried and that was when i knew i was in for it tonight.

there were!! little brick moments esp in the prologue!!! that i really loved!!!

valjean stealing a coin from a kid. this has to be a petit gervais reference even it it came early during on parole instead of the brick-accurate what have i done

baptistine and mme. magloire were there with myriel!

fauchelevent got his leg wrecked by the cart and specifically had to be carried off, which doesn't feel like a detail i've seen often

the entire town coming out with pitchforks to see valjean arrested was A Lot.

they didn't do the parole slip rip-to-the-beat thing!! they just did one (1) at the end i miss it.

they gave?? most of the factory girls solo over to the foreman??? that was a weird choice

they made fantine's firing more personal for valjean, mainly by having her try to talk to him and be brushed aside during the factory fight. valjean also paused to look back before he walked offstage. i dislike this.

lovely ladies was so brutal. oh my god. i felt her degradation and despair in the lovely ladies descent a lot more viscerally than i usually do. and but god i wanted to punch bamatabois so bad. good work to the actor, but fuck that guy

tiny tiny nit but they kept saying monsieur mayor which was driving me nuts. pick a langaug dammit!

runaway cart continues to feel choppy bc of all the lines they cut out of it.

it's not by the face, it's not by the voice, no, it's by the lifting that you recognize a man. this will always be funny to me.

there was!! a french flag!!! flying over the courtroom scene!!! it had words on them but i couldn't see all of it. the middle looked like egalite as you'd expect, but the far right was justice?? fraternite seems like a weird one to replace with justice, so maybe the whole thing was different? I couldn't even see the left where liberte would go bc of the stage lights.

little cosette was so good. oh sweet child you desrve all the hugs.

surprisingly managed to mostly enjoy master of the house. hated the opening more than i ever have before, specifically watching the audience laugh at mme thenardier abusing cosette. i realize it's not entirely the audience's fault, the show is absolutely playing it for laughs, but the ick was high today.

i will never not find show me where you live funny

look down broke in while jvj and cosette were stil having their sweet moment. idk if it was intentional but it felt very ominous and it worked

oh god gavroche was so tiny. i've never seen a gavroche feel so viscerally young, with all the invincible courage and rashness and childness bravado. i almost cried when he first appeared just because he was so small and so young and i knew what was coming.

i did a lot of crying in not-technically-sad scenes because i knew what was coming. oh god.

gavroche seemed to have a bit of hero-worship of enjolras, a la his relationship to bahorel in the book. this did become relevant in the most painful way that i feared.

i love enjolras's red waistcoat in look down

on the topic of enjo's costuming, i make fun of him for being half naked a lot. but i realized today that all the students are fully dressed (buttoned up, waistcoat + cravat, jacket) in act 1 but end up at more-or-less enjo level of (un)dress on the barricade.

is?? state of (un)dress being used as a visual shorthand for revolutionary fervour???

i think??? enjo almost got arrested after the look down scene. i missed the actual onset but i looked back towards him to find an officer waving a truncheon menacingly in his face, so.

in my life felt very ick!! which is not what was expecting. mostly it's the staging where cosette is trapped inside the courtyard pushing out at the bars, valjean comes in, unlocks the door for himself, and then locks the two of them back in. it brought back beeblemis trauma honestly.

(obligatory???) acknowledgment that vlajean does kind of become cosette's jailor in the brick, but the musical doesn't really have the room for that kind of nuance. not when we see so little of them.

courf just?? randomly grabbed a gun at the from nowhere?? at the end of red and black???

enjolras then shouted to the streets! raising said gun right before do you hear the people sing. this isn't the baricades yet!! this is a demonstrably bad choice like one (musical) day before your planned rebellion. especially if he's already been almost arrested. boy, what are you thinking???

i miss the revolve. they had to do some weird snaky maneuvers to keep marching without walking off stage. it looked stupid honestly.

garoche & enjolras's deaths area also elevated by the revolve imho

also the barricade revolve is just cool

oh god how am i not at the end of act 1 yet.

the one day more overlapping medley at the end felt werid disjointed and i'm not sure why?

one day more also made me cry not bc the song itself is particualrly sad but i couldn't stop thinking in one day more most of you will be dead which was. heartbreaking.

okay now i'm done act 1

act 2

i have less to say about act 2 i mostly just cried a lot

the tragedy of on my own really struck me, i think bc eponine felt more defiant?? like more angry about her fate, less lovestruck.

i cried at now we pledge ourselves to hold this barricade. more anticipatory grief knowing what was coming.

enj felt like a very good leader which i always appreciate. i love him, my boy.

javert's uncovering felt so violent in a way that i'm not used to seeing on stage. they fought. several times. it was very physical and tense.

also gavroche was so fucking proud and i was so fucking proud of him too and so fucking sad.

the audience laughed at now hat i know that you love... me as well which was. weird??? is that normally a laugh spot???

a little fall of rain wrecked me, partly for eponine's death, but partly for gavroche showing up just in time to see her die. musical gave no indication of their relation but i know and i was sad.

the progression from they will see the people rise to the people too must rise to the people have not stirred. god!!! this is not new but it did strike me anew today!!

courfeyrac??? told valjean well done, sir and like banged his gun against the barricade as a gesture of respect/praise??? that was weird on so many levels. idk where that came from.

i started crying near the end of bring him home and basically did not stop for the rest of act 2. only lessened in intensity at times.

grantaire's verse in drink with me was very belligerent and enjo was not putting up with it. i'm used to seeing this as a moment for enjo to comfort/soothe r (at least in the last ~10 years of productions) but this enjo was not fucking having it. it was more hostile than comforting. gavroche ran off to comfort r after.

oh my god gavroche's death. sans revolve they obviously couldn't show him on the other side of the barricade. so we just hear some shots, and then he throws the ammo over, and then he gets to the top of the barricade -- and then he gets shot down, right into enjo's arms. he then gets passed to grantaire, who stands there holding him for the entire lead up to the final battle.

enjolras was?? the first to die??? he ran up to the top of the barricade not to shoot but to wave the red flag, and then was the first to get shot down. then the rest of the amis in the standard cross-beam of spotlights thing. and then, last of all, grantaire puts down gavroche, runs up to the peak where enjo died, and is shot.

i'm not exactly upset about grantaire getting that moment, but him getting it alone -- esp after enjolras was the first to die -- felt like a weird choice.

the oboe solo pause after the final battle continues to be my downfall

thenardier says [God's] as dead as the stiffs at my feet while standing over marius. i have yet to decide if this is an intentional staging choice as commentary on "God may look dead but he's alive, i promise" or just a coincidence

they dropped valjean's there is a life to save line, no idea why

javert was so unhinged during his suicide. he was waving a pistol around for the first half and i briefly but genuinely feared they were going to restage his suicide to be by gun. thankfully it was an unfounded fear.

the candles are still my undoing!!!! i knew exactly what was coming when they brought them out during turning and yet. and yet. the simultaneous blowing out made me bawl.

side note, ghost!grantaire and enjolras appeared flanking gavroche and my first thought was are they his parents now??

dear god please do not let them parent anybody. they're bad enough individually but as a pair??? unthinkable.

i almost laughed during valjean's confession bc all i could think was ahh yiss story time with papa. i was still crying but it did not stop me from snorting.

can we cut that weird opening to beggar at the feast. you know the one.

this one's a jew is more ick than usual given current events

tacking on i might try it too after this one's a queer does not, in fact, make it gay liberation!!! it just makes it gross!!!

you've already cut so many lines from this show, why is this bit still here

take it away and give me back the i remember eponine lines in the same damn song!!!!

i think that's all for act 2??? even if it it's itls fucking late and this post has exceeded 2k words so fuck it.

general notes

i can trace the 2012 movie influences in places, that was unexpected

splashing waves as the opening imagery of work song

were the msurm factory uniforms always that blue?

did fantine's death always have that white curtain?

fantine spitting on valjean was a hathaway thing, wasn't it?

gavroche gets to keep his this is the land that fought for liberty line! i'm torn about this bc i love those lines but also this is my school, my high society bit was good too

the harmony at the end of red and black!!!! it was like my favourite music change for the move i love that they kept it

entire master of the house scene staging felt very movie-ish, just in the ~vibes~ of it

nose boops!! valjean boops cosette like four times i'm p sure that's a movie popularization

actor / character interpretation thoughts

valjean was good! i liked him better in the first act 24601/madeleine side than on the act 2 fauchlevent side, but still good

fantine was angry and i liked that.

thenardiers were mostly good. weird that they made mme obviously lust over other people??

marius was fun! good balance of earnest lovable genuine and idiot himbo booby.

did not like cosette. this is the first time i've actively disliked a portrayal of cosette and it was a big pity. the musical does enough infantalizing of adult!cosette already, i really did not need the actress to play that up.

mixed opinions about javert. honestly i think he's a fine musical javert i just like my book javert too much. obsessed with jvj, openly defiant to madeleine, very Godly, that kind of thing. but his voice was good and his suicide was extremely unhinged in a good way.

i fucking adored enjolras. he felt older?? which is not exactly the right vibe but it came with the right vibe of authority and calm that i super super appreciated. also he sounded beautiful and his hair was a glorious mane of curls.

grantaire is a delightful garbage bastard man.

i've already talked about gavroche but god gavroche!!!

courfeyrac kept catching my eye in both good ways and bad. kind of felt like he became ami #3? (after enjo and marius, per the musical). very often on enjolras's left, the first to seize a gun, the first to praise jvj on "killing" valjean (that was weird, what was that), etc etc.

song list in playbill was not incorrect but kind of weird. notable mentions:

the entirety of prologue was just listed as prologue

both what have i done and javert's suicide were just listed as soliloquy (not even x's soliloquy)

confrontation wasn't listed at all?? i'd think it was folded into come to me, odd as that seems, except that just has fantine and valjean listed.

drink with me became drink with me to days gone by???

all the little bits and pieces of song missing was expected, but seeing none of the battles listed at all felt a little weird. not even the final battle.

the spotlights on stage were mostly yellow/warm white, except for when someone died/was near death, where they got bright cold white spotlights. except javert -- he got the cold white spotlight in stars, too, and in one day more.

was this an intentional choice to make a statement about javert??

was this just an accidental coincidence??

did other non-dying people get the white spotlight too and i just didn't notice??

#les mis #oh god this got so long #2100 words.. help... #i had to go back and update several times bc the wordcount is making tumblr editor unusable on my browser rn #and i was afraid of losing 2k words #so i had to write and save in chunks #did you know there's a 4096 character-per-block limit??? #i sure didn't until today #if anyone wants to Talk To Me about this PLEASE DO #sylvie says

[superstitiousteven]

guys i could seriously never be a published author

like all day i’ve been pushing aside seeing what my editor friend(also a published author) had to say about a short story for a silly little local contest. like im terrified to see what she has to say esp bc the story is so special to me and half of it is just personal.

#shitpost #irl stories #send help #she posted 17 comments on a 2100 word story i’m scared

[jonny-b-meowborn]

I think I'm done with the Jonny/Tim cannibalism fanfic? I'm still gonna like, read though it a few times and edit it, and I still wanna do some drawings for it before I share it, but overall I'm pretty satisfied with it. Big win for the me community

#im not confident enough about it to like. send it to anyone for them to check if its fine lmao #im just gonna trust myself and post it when i think its okay #besides i don't think anyone i know would want to read it kdndbdjxnxjs #maybe except my cousin and one friend but they're both also from Poland so they wont be much help when it comes to grammar and stuff #writing in english is hard sometimes lmao #but honestly even if it isnt perfect english i dont think anyone would really care #like. im not worried about the quality im worried about the contents #still not sure if i wanna share a link to it here once i put it on ao3. ill think about it #and you know its that thing when youre fine with showing weird stuff to strangers cause there's less consequences to that #but you wouldnt show the same thing to your frienda because youre worried it could change how they perceive you #and i do have friends here so. idk #anyway. its around 2100 words and nasty lmao #bee buzz

[peachesofteal]

Can we please please please get some more Simon x single mother au? Possibly him helping in the garden/ keeping emmaline out of trouble while Mom works in the garden

Light on - single mom/neighbor fic Simon Riley/female reader 18+ mdni / mild sexual content

“Ow! fuck!”

Your hand jerks, drawing back to your mouth with a hiss. 

“What is it?” He forces himself still, staring daggers at where the tip of your finger has started to leak blood, a thick drop dripping down the side before you bring it to your mouth, lush lips wrapping around your injury. “Are you alright?” His tone is tightly controlled, even keeled, nonchalant, but on the inside, worry gnaws away at his stomach, chewing through the organ until it’s spilling free and running rampant through his body. 

“There’s a piece of glass in here.” In the garden bed? “Some of the other tenants, hang around up here at night. They usually leave bottles or cans behind.” The worry turns to anger, a simple plan slowly taking shape in his mind, a strategy to find the rooftop partiers, and ensure they never leave glass in your garden again. 

Emmaline cries, nose and brows wrinkled in irritation, and you turn to coo at her, finger still half in your mouth. 

“It’s okay, little pea. Just give me a second.” She continues to fuss, and you sigh, wilting like one of your own little flowers, left too long in the sun without water. You blink, and it’s like you’ve shed your sunlit skin for an exhausted shell. Oh, sweetheart. I know it’s hard, but you don’t have to do it on your own anymore. 

I’m here now. 

“Can I?” He asks softly, warming at how your face lights with relief. 

“Yes, please.” You point to the bottle that’s tucked in the side of the backpack, and he unbuckles her from the bouncer that you lugged up the four flights of stairs earlier, even though he had texted you an hour before and politely suggested you wait for him to be finished his phone call, so he could help you. 

You went up anyway, much to his displeasure. Displeasure, that he had to swallow, permanently. 

You’re not his. Not yet. He can’t be disappointed by resistance or refusal when you don’t even know all the ways he can be there for you yet. He knows you’ll learn. You’re a smart girl. His smart girl. 

Emmaline lays nestled in the crook of his elbow, slightly elevated on her back, and he pops the cap of the bottle easily, rubbing his index finger against her cheek to trigger the reflex that will open her mouth. When it does, he keeps it at the right angle to ensure the formula doesn’t flow too fast into her belly. 

“You’ve done this before.” You murmur, reaching into the backpack for a band aid. You’re studying him, tracing over his face, his hands that are nearly the size of your baby, and he can feel the scrutiny, the curious intensity of your gaze. 

“Had a nephew. I was around a lot, when he was this age.” He had a brother too. And a mother. A sister-in-law. A family. 

Emmaline gurgles around the nipple, and he slips it free, sitting her mostly upright, giving her a gentle pat on the back amid her protestations, little grunts that he’s sure she means as ‘feed me’ and ‘more’. He waits for you to ask him the dreaded questions, the focus on the word had, the inevitable conversation about loss and family and pain, guilt and grief that can make a man feel like he’s been buried alive. 

You don’t.

Instead, you simply say, 

“Emmaline had a dad once, too.” 

It’s nearly 2100 when you knock on his door later, baby monitor in one hand, two amber colored bottles in another. 

“Hey. You busy?” His heart does a double tap inside his chest. Bad timing, the worst. Your sweet mouth is slightly open, hopeful, teeth parted just barely to reveal a flash of tongue, and his jaw clenches against the wild need that catapults through his veins to his cock. What do you taste like? What do you feel like? You motion to the monitor. “Just went down. Figure I have about an hour before I pass out myself and could use some adult time.” Shit. The duffel bag next to the door practically speaks for him, irritatingly reminding him he has a plane to catch in less than two hours. 

“I can’t, I’m about to head out.” Your brow furrows, confusion churning into understanding within a moment, disappointment flickering across your expression before it smooths out. 

“Right. Okay.” 

“I want to.” He hurries the words. “But I travel… for work and I have to be on a flight in a few hours.” You’re already half turning away, slinking off to your apartment, giving him a soft agreement as you go. 

“Sure, yeah.” 

“Wait, sweetheart,” You startle at the pet name, eyes going wide at the inferred affection. “when I get back, let’s… have a drink.” You nod, and he smiles a real smile, barely tugging his lips upward, probably hardly visible to you. The kind of smile he’s been wearing around you these past two weeks, the kind of smile he tries to give Emmaline when she stares at him. 

“Alright, sounds good then.” Your key finds your lock, and he steps out into the hallway, trapping your gaze with his own. 

“You girls be good.” He says, a parting instruction, and a bashful, bewildered smile of your own curves across your mouth. 

“We will.”

#light on #peaches asks #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #peaches writes

[blacknailsandheartbreak]

Imagine Zuko is working at the Jasmine Dragon and you are a regular :)

I love the small town coffee shop/ cafe feel, and when you throw in a romance trope- I will smother that MF in butter and eat it for my final meal. I love my grump x sunshine tropes, if you couldn’t tell. 

This one isn’t really following a proper timeline or story, cuz I’m not using Zuko and Irohs fake names and they really are just chillin in that tea shop for this story, BUT just a fluffy idea I really like. Anywho, fluffy and some steam ;) that gets steamy. (WINK WINK)

WC: ~2100 words

So let’s imagine…

Age of Admission: 18 and Wrinkled

Zuko is a server at the Jasmine Dragon tea shop owned by his Uncle Iroh. It became super popular very fast and you thought you would check it out. You walk in one morning and come to meet the owner, he introduces himself as Iroh. He is very kind and as you two talk, you find it is only himself and his nephew who work there. Iroh points out his nephew and when you turn to look where he motions, a figure disappears into the back. You thank Iroh for his kindness and say you cannot wait to come back. You would end up becoming a regular that would come in and read for a long time when the shop was quiet but leave when it got busy.

When you would come in, Zuko was always conveniently the one to help you. He would take your order, he would give you your tea and come by your table to check if you needed anything. He was nonchalantly cold to you but… not…? You would always smile and thank him and try to make small conversation, but Zuko never really engaged, he wasn’t rude and would agree with you then quickly move on. But over time, you noticed Zuko never stopped at any of the other tables to check on them, only yours. 

Over time it is very apparent that Zuko has the biggest soft spot for you but tries not to show it. He constantly stares at you, but glances away before he gets caught. Iroh obviously takes notice fairly quickly and tries talking with Zuko, but it is short lived. Iroh comments “You two would complement each other quite well. Not to mention the smile she brings out of you, now that's quite the achievement.” Zuko only rolls his eyes as he walks into the back. 

On another day you had been sitting for almost an hour finishing your second cup of tea, in the last few chapters of your book, Zuko was glancing at you from behind the counter as he dried a teapot. Iroh tried again, “You should talk to her.” Zuko visually tenses, “What?! No! What would I even say??” He said in a harsh whisper. “You are overthinking nephew, she always tries to spark a conversation, just let your conversation rivers flow and intertwine!” Zuko looked at him blandly, Iroh gave a soft smile, “A compliment can go a long way.” Iroh patted his shoulder and went to walk among the tables conversing with the customers.

One day you had stayed particularly later than you had thought as a rush didn’t happen and you were very into your book. Eventually Zuko walks over to you and places down a small dessert, it was some sort of pear tart. You smiled up at Zuko and thanked him for the kind gesture. “Yeah, we are closing soon and there happened to be some left that didn’t sell.” Zuko said. You shot up, not noticing the time, “Oh! I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize the time. Can I take it to go?” You say standing and gathering your things, you start apologizing for holding them up but Zuko was only half listening as he looked out the window at the dark street. He was worried about you being out so late and walking home alone. He cuts you off and insists it's fine and to wait till after they close and he would walk you home. Your heart flutters as it was something you knew you wanted but didn’t realize how badly. You smile and nod your head in thanks, but Iroh had overheard and insisted that Zuko could head out now as he could close himself. 

Zuko and yourself walked along the main street, the night was dark but the street lamps lit your way. You hold your book with both hands in front of you as you talk about what happened in the many chapters you read tonight. Zuko and you walk side by side, you smile as you explain the events, Zuko listens but is watching around for anything to be cautious of. You both make it back to your apartment and you thank Zuko for the kind gesture and offer him to come in. To your dismay he declines, you were sad as he turned away and waved goodnight, knowing it was out of good chivalry. After what felt like the longest walk home of his life, Zuko returns to the tea shop. Iroh welcomes Zuko back and asks how it went, Zuko snapped “Do you stick your nose into everyone’s business, or just mine?” Iroh looked at Zuko for a moment, “She asked you to stay, didn’t she?” Zuko scrunched his nose and didn’t reply, he walked back to his room.

You had come down with a cold and didn’t return to the tea shop for a couple days. But little to your knowledge, through those couple days Zuko found himself waiting for you to walk through the front doors. He found himself looking at the door every time someone walked through but disappointment cooling his veins when it wasn’t you. 

After almost a week goes by you show up again, Iroh welcomes you back warmly and insists your regular order will be out swiftly before walking into the back. You smile and take a seat, pulling out your book, not long after Zuko is at your table with your tea. Zuko makes a comment about your absence and you explain how you had gotten a cold and then tease him about missing you. Zuko starts to try and back track his comment, you can see a bit of embarrassment peek through as he tries to cover up his feelings that showed through his concern of you missing. You decide to take a leap and try to show him it's ok. “Well, I missed your company too.” you said warmly, as Zuko composed, someone walked in and up to the counter. Zuko added it was nice to have you back before heading to serve the customer.

A rush started that afternoon so you marked your place in your book, paid and left. You spent some time in the market and on your route home you passed the tea shop. You walked by slowly to see Zuko sweeping by the front door, he looked up and questioned why you were out so late. You smiled and explained about the market, told him about the shops and liveliness. While you were talking Iroh pops out from the back mid question for zuko, but pauses when he sees you. He exclaimed how nice it was to see you again with a warm smile walking to you and Zuko. You return the gesture and brief him about the market that you explained to Zuko. Iroh agreed it sounded fun and insisted You show Zuko, all closing was basically done and could finish up by himself. 

You and Zuko made your way to the market and walked around, there were many food stands, flower stands, jewelry stands, fabric stands, anything you name it was probably there. As you both walked and you talked, a cool breeze started setting in so you looped your arm through Zukos and walked closer to him, commenting on his warmth. Zuko only hummed and continued on with you, even though his heart was totally a butterfly exhibit at that moment. Once the market was fully explored, Zuko offered to walk you home again as it was very late and he should get you home.

Once again you both ended up on your apartment door step. You thanked him for a great night and him walking you back, you unlocked and opened your door, offering again for Zuko to come in. Zuko starts to insist he leaves but you cut him off with a kiss. Zuko was surprised for only a split second, but kissed you back, placing his hands on your waist. You pull away and look up at him through your eyelashes, “Please, stay for a bit”. He looked at you, “Are you sure?” he asked, keeping his hold on your waist, your shirt parted slightly from your pants and the warmth of his hand hummed against your skin. You held his gaze while you grabbed his hand, taking him inside. 

Once you were both in, you handed Zuko the keys, he closed the door and locked it. The second he turned around you moved in, you placed your hand on his jaw and chest. Zuko lavished in your kiss and put his hands on the small of your waist, bringing you in as close as possible. You felt the warmth of his body against yours, but craved more. You grab the bottom of his shirt and pull up, Zuko releases you and grabs his shirt, yanking it off quickly, returning to your lips. But this time his hands didn’t fall on your waist, they reached to the back of your thighs, hiking you up with ease as pleasant yelp of surprise from you as you wrapped your legs around his waist. The kiss was so hot you pulled away, your head falling to the side as Zuko moved to kiss your jaw and neck. “Zuko…~ah!” He hummed in response, “Zuko, bedroom… behind us…” Zuko promptly moves to the door you mention, pushing it open with his foot, stepping in and swiftly closing it with a firm but gentle kick.

Zuko set you down on the bed, you eagerly took off your shirt and you laid chest bare, not having worn underclothing today. Zuko’s hands were immediately on your torso, and chest. As Zuko kissed along your neck and collar bone, you scrape your nails down his shoulders and slide your hands along his arms, feeling the lean build of his muscle. Zuko asks if this is ok, what you both were doing, you wasted no time in confirming you were more than ok with it. You grab the waist line of his pants and pull him close, he grunts and pushes himself further against you, you gasp. Zuko goes to remove your pants, you raise your hips to quicken the process. You now laid bare before Zuko, everything for him to see. You could feel the vulnerability creep in and the natural urge to cover, but you knew you were comfortable and this is what you wanted. Your hands worked his trousers and slid them off. Zuko stood proud as he hovered over you, laying between your legs. Anticipation slid around your stomach, you kissed deeply, you could feel Zuko at your entrance, you gasped. He leaned back and looked down at where you met, grinning. Pushing forward slightly, his head pushing against your kitten. “~mmh… ah!” You moan out as he pushes further in, Zuko lets out a breath as he rests on elbows over top of you. He pushes in all the way and an audible gasp leaves your mouth as you could swear he hit an organ. He pulls out and slides back in, in the most devilish way of feeling like he is hitting deeper with every thrust. Your eyes roll back as his hips move in the perfect way, feeling his skin against yours, his muscles move against your body. Zuko puts his arms under your knees and spreads your legs wide and pushes them up, giving him better access as well as deeper penetration, which is baffling to you in that second until he continues. Now nothing is going through your mind except Zuko's breath and your moans in the air. You felt a knot in your stomach form, you tapped on his shoulder and told him you were close. He groaned and kept going as you fell apart under him, almost reaching his peak as you became so sensitive you couldn't contain the moans coming from you. But before you could think, he was about to climax. Zuko cursed and pulled out, cumming on your stomach. You both are absolutely racked from the events, Zuko takes a deep breath in, kisses you and says he will be right back. He comes back with a towel, cleaning you up and laying next to you. 

You lay on his chest and relax, both being out of breath, Zuko said something that shocked you. He exclaimed how he missed you the week you were home sick, and not at the tea shop. You smiled sweetly and cuddled closer to his warm body, explaining how everyday you couldn’t stop thinking about him either.

#prince zuko #zuko #atla #zuko fanfic #zuko x reader #atla fanfic #avatar zuko #fluff #smut #grumpy x sunshine

[roosterforme]

Stud On Board | Bob Floyd x Reader

Summary: You're nervous to meet Bob's friends for the first time. Initially you think they are poking fun at you, but then you realize that's not the case. When it becomes obvious that it's your boyfriend they're picking on, you make it a point to let them know just how much of a stud he really is.

Warnings: Fluff, implied smut, swearing

Length: 2100 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female Reader

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"I'm a little nervous to meet everybody," you whispered to your boyfriend as you zipped up his jeans. You wiped the corner of your mouth, making sure your lips were clean before climbing onto his lap. You'd gone on four dates with him before he very nervously asked you to be his girlfriend, and since then, for the past month, you'd been so happy.

"Don't be nervous, Sweetheart," he replied, leaning closer to kiss your nose as he cradled you between his body and the steering wheel of his truck. "Everyone is going to like you. What's not to like?"

"Bobby," you said, adjusting his crooked glasses on his nose. "They are a tight knit group. If one of them doesn't like me, none of them are going to like me."

"Well, I like you plenty," he promised, and you turned to look out the window at his friend Jake's house where the Memorial Day party was in full swing in the backyard. "And Nat knows I'm wild about you. She told me she's happy you're coming with me."

You kissed him softly and then opened the door and started to climb down with his help. "I can't believe I get to meet the famous Phoenix."

Bob laughed. "She's larger than life. Hang on tight." 

And you did. You laced your fingers through his and let him lead you around the cute little ranch house and into the cozy backyard. Someone was grilling, there was music playing, and you saw a couple of kids blowing bubbles. But before you could take in anything else, there was a woman with dark hair and wide brown eyes in your face. 

"Bob. She's stunning."

Your boyfriend chuckled and pulled you a little closer. "Sweetheart, this is Nat."

"Oh!" you said brightly. "I've been looking forward to meeting you!"

"Holy shit," Nat replied, just shaking her head. "Good job, Bob. I mean, it's nice to meet you," she said, offering her hand and shaking yours. "Bagman is grilling some burgers, and there are drinks in the cooler."

"You want me to get you something to drink?" Bob asked, pecking you on the cheek. 

When you nodded, you watched Nat drag him away as she whispered, "Fucking hell, Floyd. You could have warned us that your new girlfriend looks like that." 

You rolled your eyes. Nobody usually made much of a fuss over you. When you turned to see what the group of kids was up to, you nearly bumped into a tall man sporting a mustache. Like a pornstar from the 80s. You almost laughed as he said, "Hey, I know we didn't come here together, but how'd you like to leave with me?"

"Excuse me?" you asked, bursting out laughing. "Did you really just say that?"

He shrugged at you, looking very smug. "My name's Bradley. We haven't met before. I'd definitely remember you."

You told him your name, and you were about to add that you came here with Bob, but then your boyfriend strolled back over with two cans of beer. He handed you one and kissed your cheek again.

"Oh, Rooster, this is my girlfriend," Bob said, and you watched Bradley's jaw drop as he looked at you, his eyes dipping down below your neck to the top of your dress as he blushed. 

"Sorry," he muttered, and he fist bumped a confused looking Bob as he walked away. 

"What was that all about?" your boyfriend asked. 

"Nothing," you replied with a smile as you sipped your drink. "Can we get some food? I'm starving, and I need to put something in my mouth right now."

"Really?" Bobby asked, cheeks flushing as he ran his fingers along the back of your hand. "You didn't get your fill in the truck?"

"Bobby!" you gasped, always a little surprised when he said something dirty to you. He was such a gentleman... usually. "I got my fill of you in the truck, but I need to make sure I have energy for later." You winked, and he was practically tripping over himself as he followed you across the patio toward the grill.

And that was where you met Jake. "Hey, pretty lady," he drawled. His accent was southern and cute, but nothing like Bob's, which you'd already gotten used to hearing whispering the sweetest things while he made love to you. 

"Hi," you said carefully as he studied your face. You were already feeling like maybe you didn't get off to the best start here, and the look he was giving you felt like a confirmation. 

"Damn it, Bob," he groaned, turning to look at your boyfriend. "Well done." Then he handed you a burger and told you to help yourself to some potato salad and snacks on the picnic table. 

"I don't think they like me," you told Bob as you dumped some pretzels onto your plate and sighed. 

"They do!" he insisted. "Just give them a chance."

"I'm trying," you promised before you bit into your burger. And thankfully Phoenix came back over and started chatting with you which made you feel a lot better. She asked you about work and told you how good Bob was at his job.

"He always makes sure he keeps everyone safe," she said, looking at Bob with appreciation in her eyes. "He's a great team player."

You smiled at her as Bob blushed. "He told me I could come visit him on base someday," you said as you wrapped your arms around him. "I'd love to see your Super Hornet."

"Bob, you'll have to let her check out your cockpit one day," Nat said with a chuckle. "Maybe she's not familiar with that yet."

"Oh, I'm very familiar with that," you whispered, just for Bob, and his cheeks turned a deeper pink still. 

"Sweetheart," he muttered, and you promised him you'd behave. 

Then someone was reaching for your hand and pulling you away from him. "You're Bob's?" he asked. And before you even answered, he said, "I'm Fanboy. I mean Mickey. Come play horseshoes with me. I'm terrible and nobody else will be my partner."

You waved goodbye to Bob and Phoenix while you laughed and joined the game. "If you're terrible, what makes you think I'd want to be your partner?" you asked as he finally let go of your hand. 

"I'm sure you don't, but I didn't give you a choice. That's Payback and Coyote," Mickey told you, and two more men waved at you. "We're playing against them." 

"Damn," they said in unison before the taller one added, "You're Bob's new girlfriend?"

"Yeah," you said, waving awkwardly. "It's nice to meet you."

"Are you sure you didn't get lost or something?" Jake asked you when he strolled over. "Really? Bob?"

You looked at all the guys and then over to Bob on the patio. "What do you mean?" you asked Jake.

"Don't listen to them," Mickey said loudly, cutting him off and handing you a horseshoe. "They're just jealous."

"Jealous?" you asked, starting to feel sick. They didn't like you. For some reason, you'd done something wrong. You tossed the horseshoe, but it was a terrible throw, and now you were embarrassed. "Can I ask what I did wrong? Because Bobby is so sweet, and I really wanted to make a good impression on his friends."

Mickey's eyes went wide. "You didn't do anything wrong!"

And that's when you heard Payback tell Coyote and Jake, "It's like beauty and the geek. I don't understand how it happend."

"Are they talking about me?" you asked Mickey, and he parted his lips like he was going to say something to you, but he turned to them instead.

"Guys, knock it off."

"I don't understand," you whispered, and finally Mickey showed you some sympathy.

"They all think you're hot. And they can't believe you're dating Bob."

You felt warmth flood your cheeks, and the other horseshoe almost slipped from your fingers. "Oh."

"Seriously, just ignore them," Mickey said, shooting the others a nasty look. "I like you. Everyone likes you. Let's play horseshoes."

So you played for a little bit as his words started to sink in. It just didn't make any sense. Bob was every bit as handsome as the rest of them. And he was sweet. Even sweeter than Mickey, who was currently trying to include you in the conversation. And Bob was so funny; last night he had you laughing so hard you had hiccups. 

Not to mention, Bob gave you the best sex of your life. Sure, you hadn't been intimate with him for more than a few weeks, but he was very attentive. He gave you everything you asked for. 

"Hey, Sweetheart," he said and you turned to see him strolling up to you. Your heart skipped a beat, and you wanted to kiss him until his glasses steamed up. 

"Bobby," you whispered, handing the horseshoes to Bradley so you could give him a proper hug. 

"You having fun?" he asked, rubbing his hands in soothing circles on your back. 

"Yes. Mickey and Phoenix are really nice. And the rest of them... I think they must grow on you over time?"

Bob started laughing and said, "You're not wrong."

"Hey, Four-Eyes, you and your girl want dessert?" Bradley asked, tossing one of the horseshoes up in the air and catching it.

"Um, y-yes," Bob said, clearly flustered now. 

"Four-Eyes?" you asked, scoffing at him. Were they making you feel a little awkward because they thought Bob was nerdy? "Wait, are you making fun of Bobby?"

At least Bradley had the decency to look a little embarrassed as you glared at him. "Yeah," he answered quietly.

"You think he's a nerd?" you asked the other guys, gesturing at Bob. 

Bradley shrugged. "Yeah, kinda." Jake, Coyote and Payback all looked like they wanted to agree.

You looked up at your boyfriend, and you could tell he was still embarrassed. He could barely meet your eyes as you pressed your palm against his chest. Then you could feel a smile creep across your face as you made sure you were loud enough for everyone to hear. "I think he's a stud." Then you kissed him hard in front of everyone, and sure his glasses were crooked when you were done, but you liked that about him.

"You do?" Bob asked softly. "A stud?"

You nodded up at him as you fixed his glasses. "You wanna leave, Bobby? I keep thinking about sucking your cock in the truck like I did earlier. I'm dying to feel your big dick down my throat again."

Jake let out a little strangled noise, and Bradley dropped a horseshoe on his own foot. Now the other guys were gaping at Bob, and they seemed to stand a little taller in his presence, suddenly impressed. 

Bob licked his lips and stared at you, completely entranced as you kissed his cheek. "Yeah. You know what, I think we should head out," he managed, his voice a little hoarse as he tightened his grip on you. 

"You're leaving?" Nat asked, walking over with a slice of cake. 

"Apparently Bob isn't as innocent as we thought," Hangman drawled, looking at your boyfriend with new appreciation. 

"It was nice to meet everyone," you told them, lacing your fingers through Bob's. "I'm going to go take care of Bobby. But maybe next time we can stay for dessert?"

"Make Bob bring you to the Hard Deck on Friday!" Nat called after you as you led him away. "I need more estrogen in my life!"

"Will you take me to the Hard Deck on Friday?" you asked him sweetly. 

"I'll take you anywhere you want, Sweetheart," he replied, still looking at you like he couldn't believe you were his.

You turned to wave and said, "See you on Friday!"

And then Bob pulled you close as he led you back toward his truck. "You didn't have to say all that stuff in front of them and call me a...stud. I'm used to them picking on me a little bit for being nerdy and having glasses and everything. I mean, I know it's true, Sweetheart."

You just laughed and shook your head at him. "Come here, stud." You pushed him up against the side of his truck and kissed him, slipping your tongue between his lips and tasting him. You rubbed yourself gently against the front of him and whispered, "Do I look like I deserve anything less than the sexiest, sweetest boyfriend?"

He swallowed hard and grunted, "No."

"That's what I thought. Now get in the truck, Bobby. I have something I want to show you."

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

Bob is a stud. Just try to argue with me about that fact. Thanks to @bradshawsbitch and @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls!

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[running-with-kn1ves]

Rough Day

A/N: Hardly proofread this because I just wanted to be DONE with it. I'm a bit annoyed that i've kind of adopted a 'same face syndrome' style for my writing. 

Synopsis: Your strong, silent husband comes home late after a tough day at work ready to use you as a stress reliever. 

TW: implied noncon/dubcon, arranged/forced marriage, Implied deaths + stalking, general fear, yandere-ish themes

Word Count: 2100

You were once preoccupied by a magazine loosely held between your finger tips, lazily glancing at its contents as you laid on your stomach. But the slam of your front door twisted your attention away from its pages-- the sudden boom making you jump. Your grip tightened, eyes watching the doorway.  Sharp, familiar footsteps filled the hall accompanied by the rustling of clothes as your husband stormed in. He flung his suit coat to the bed, Oxfords still clicking against the wooden floor of your shared bedroom. His steps were heavier than ususal; something happened. 

“How was your day?” You ask, jerking back to stare at the magazine as if it kept you safe from his wrath.

“Fine,” He responded. “It was work.”

You avoided his gaze when he began to take off his tie with unusual aggression. flipping a page in the flimsy book in your hands, an advertisement showed floral perfumes while a blog section detailed lists of expensive items celebrities were using now-a-days. You stared blankly at the page, trying to look as natural as possible on the bed. 

Your husband huffed and sighed; you would’ve offered to help him with the tie he seemed so desperate but unable to get off, but your mind told you otherwise. His general aura made you want to curl in a ball under the sheets to avoid it. You always felt he was intimidating --ever since you met him after hearing you were to be married from your parents-- but moments like this were when you were truly nervous. 

“Everything go okay with the meeting?” 

“Yes. The investors were perfectly--” Your husband tore off his stubborn tie, dramatically throwing it across the floor. “Fine.”

The way his teeth clenched and his body tensed, you knew this wasn’t just his regular cruddy day at work. You guessed it was something to deal with the business meeting he had been planning for weeks. 

Not much could get him worked up, but you knew this meeting was something that drastically affected his behavior depending on how it turned out. 

You didn’t respond as he finished getting undressed, flipping the magazine page once more, and again pretending to read. You knew it was only a matter of time before he looked to you, but you were trying to hold off on that for as long as possible. You realized even if you tried your usual approaches of wiggling out of his affection, he was too wound up to not pounce on you like a raging animal in heat. 

So you bid your time, silently pretending to read and hoping he’d get in the shower before trying to tackle you so you could play the ‘fallen asleep’ card. Goodness knows you don’t have enough energy to take him. 

But as you heard his buttons come undone one by one, and his hands began to draw nearer, you knew your time was up. You didn’t say a word as he grabbed you by the hips to pull you close, snatching the magazine from your hands to toss it on the floor.

You would’ve protested, if this was your first time dealing with him. But you knew that never played in your favor. All you could hope for was that he’d be gentler this time; less rough, perhaps with a little bit of thought and rationality in the way he manhandled you. 

“How was your day,” He asked, though you could tell he wasn’t really interested. 

“Well… uneventful I guess.” You yelped once he laid you across his body, resting up against the pillows as your head laid against his chest. “I tried to clean…a little…” You found it hard to speak once his mouth was against your ear. The gruff sighs and clearings of his throat never failed to cause shivers to run down your spine. It even tickled your neck, the air from his nostrils hitting the back of your ear. 

He hummed in response to your answer, sounding disinterested but as if he was listening. 

You regretted having changed into your pajamas already. He slid your clothes around with ease, the loose fabric letting him do as he craved to your body. 

The male was already latching onto you, a hand across your chest holding your shoulder, while the other was securely gripping your thigh, groping the flesh as his heartbeat slowed. 

You could hear his breath gently hitch as you let out an anxious squeak.

“So uh… what did the investors think?” 

You tried to make conversation, to not stumble over your words as your husband softly ran his lips down your neck, nuzzling into your shoulder with a hardness you knew was from how pent up he was. 

‘They were reasonably upset,” he unfastened the top two buttons of your shirt with a swift motion. “But right now it doesn’t matter what they think.” 

 He effectively ended the conversation with that line, making you purse your lips together as you tried to ignore the ticklish circles he rubbed into your flesh. From behind, he had full access to you, unable to let go of your warmth. Or rather, unwilling. 

The sound of his lips pressing against your skin filled the quiet bedroom, the gentle hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen faintly in the background. Your husband wanted to squish and feel you, to squeeze the soft parts of your body and squeeze them like a stress ball. There was also an, admittedly, large part of him that wanted to violently make love to let out all of his aggression instead. 

It was hard for him to hold back when you made such cute little sounds, reacting to even the smallest things. It boosted his pride more than it reasonably should’ve, especially since he knew how unwilling you were in this marriage. 

He snaked an arm up your loose night shirt, grabbing at your stomach and preparing to palm your chest with fervor. 

“Shouldn’t you eat dinner first?” You asked wearily, already dreading the bruises and love bites you knew you’d find on yourself in the morning.  

“I’m not hungry for food right now.” He whispered. 

 Biting at your ear, he massaged bruises into your thigh with his thumb. 

You knew he probably meant that he didn’t have an appetite, but his phrasing couldn’t help but make you grow hot and squirmy. 

“Don’t say it like that,” You groaned as his hand lifted under your shirt, running his ticklish fingernails up the dip of your chest. “And don’t touch me there!”

“I’m your husband, I can touch you where I want.” He mumbled into your neck, using an arm to hold your jaw. He pulled your face towards his with an uncharacteristic amount of desire. 

Your husband's lips touched yours with a pressure that convinced you would crush your mouth. 

He yearned for the touch of you, to want to squeeze so hard that you’d have a constant physical and mental reminder even when he left for work. It didn’t help that he was so closed off, focusing much more of his time on work these days to where he’d be touch starved by the time he got home. He’d still be as stoic and stern as ever, but with the added flavor of barking orders at you to sit on his lap and feed him. 

“You’re allowed to touch me, too, you know.”  

“Yeah.” You say, if only to have him stop talking about it out of your embarrassment. He was never one for extreme methods of affection until it came to these stress phases, which is why you couldn’t wrap your head around how physical he had become despite his distant personality. 

But tonight he was warm and intense, enveloping you with his body to prevent your always perfectly timed escape. You couldn’t help but notice how his hips rocked to slide against you, the male lazily grinding upwards as you laid spread like a star fish for him. He forced your thighs open to become available for fondling and led your hands to a comfortable position. He guided you every step of the way, hardly giving you free will as he touched without hesitation. You didn’t dare move away, slightly enjoying the attention, but also feeling a strange sense of nausea as he got rougher with each grind against your backside and every tug at your hips. 

He was getting impatient with just this. He wanted more. 

Your husband removed the stronghold on your leg to play with the elastic hem of your PJ shorts, tugging at it so that it let out a small ‘slap’ against your skin once released from his fingers. 

You would've caressed him back, would've kissed him with genuine desire and held him If he was truly befitting of the title "husband." But you knew the monster this man was. Married couples were supposed to cuddle and embrace, and lie with one another. But that was for spouses who were together willingly. That was if they felt some semblance of love and care. But your marriage was full of lies and threats, with death and forced servitude. You were civil with your husband, you looked the other way when you heard of a distant acquaintance who got too close dying, or finding a shiny black car following you down the street. 

You could ignore his damage to your loved ones and his constant need of possession over you, but you couldn't seem to love him the way a spouse should. You could endure it, much like other things. But when it came to moments like this, you could only dread his powerful hands and the more than bruised body he'd leave you with in the morning. 

“A-are you sure you want to do this now? You have work in the morning, and it’s already ten-” 

“I’m sure.”

Your husband exhaled against your ear with relaxation, not acknowledging your hesitation. He was so close to you, your body nearly melting into his as his body heat mixed with your clean scent; the day's sweat still clung to him from when he rushed from meetings into cabs. He could smell the shampoo in your hair, the lotion you applied to your hands before lying down. The businessman couldn't help but lean into your neck and take a deep whiff, the smell helping him find comfort despite how much he desired to release his pent frustration. 

“Just stay still for me…” He mumbled, pulling your shirt to the side to make room for his mouth. He bit down on your skin, refusing ro hold back as he dug his teeth deep into your flesh. You knew if he could, hed bite your flesh hard enough to tear; hed be able to consume a piece of you, and mark you deep enough for it to last forever. But though your husband was ruthless, he wasn't entirely a savage. So he settled for using your body to rub up against and squish, his teeth dragging along your soft skin with a longing desire in his eyes. 

You could see behind the tired look and superiority complex, his lust sat waiting. It lurked in shadows during the day for when he could finally lay his paws on you-- his perfect spouse. And now, at night and alone with you, he wasn't planning on being gentle with his hunger.

Your husband's striking hands were brought to your flesh greedily once more, over his sudden sentimental mood and interested in one thing: relieving himself without a forethought. 

One for being used to this fate, you didn't show reaction when he twisted you around, forcing you beneath him in a flurry of loose unbuttoned clothes and kisses. It didn't phase you when his pants fell partly down from his earlier undressing. As he planted rough kisses up your legs you didn't dare to speak or flinch-- didn't move as his white button up nearly slipped off, the bottom button having not yet been released. 

You could tell with the way your spouses hands dragged you, gripping and pinching as they pulled you beneath him. He seemed so… needy. You'd never say that outloud, but it was true. 

He pressed his lips down hard onto your skin and trailed up your abdomen. They were kisses that pinched your skin between his lips as restless fingers tugged at your nightwear. 

Even if you wanted to fight back, your husband moved so fast it wouldn’t have mattered. You were practically a ragdoll in his hands, a stress ball that could hardly comprehend his lust. 

And so, you let him ravage you. He released his heavy desires upon your body, forgetting the mess he’d make of you ‘til the morning.

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[onestopfanficshop]

a fish with a bowtie

a simon "ghost" riley x reader blurb part two here!

no shock that i have fallen for yet another tall, muscular masked man. nothing new here! 😭

warnings/author's note: it feels so good to actually be able to write again omg. i included a very poorly drawn floor plan of the house in my head so you can visualize it better- nothing worse than not being able to see a story in your head! just some language and unreasonable amounts of fluff. your call sign is sparrow. simon being simon. gif not mine

word cound: 2100

"If any of you get boot prints on my tile, I swear to God…" you threaten weakly, kicking your shoes off at the door. The team knew better than to argue. You had saved their asses back at the warehouse breach–and unfortunately, you also took the brunt of the damage. Your head was throbbing, and your legs threatened to give out at any moment beneath you. The team had been successful with your help, but the attack was loud. They figured they'd lie low for a couple of days and let the smoke clear, but they needed a safe house. You debated it for a second before reluctantly telling the boys that you knew a place.

Unluckily for you, that place was your house.

The team silently marveled at your home. It seemed to be a perfect reflection of you but also not at the same time. For someone that claimed to be no frills, your couch sure did look fancy. But your collection of vinyls matched up with all the music recommendations you'd give them between missions. Soap geeked out over the movie posters you had framed around the living room, and Price squinted at your coffee table decor. He never took you for a candle person.

"Is that an original Back to the Future poster?" Soap asked in awe. 

"Mhm…" you mumble distantly, racking the fridge for food. You zone out on the bright lights of the fridge for a second before letting out a grim chuckle. Of course there was no food. You were barely ever in this house– if you kept food in the fridge, it would all go rotten. Seriously, how fucked up was your brain right now?

You decided to search for the pantry next. It was mostly empty, save for a few spices and boxes of tea here or there. Your eyes searched the shelves until you found what you were looking for: exactly five bowls of nearly expired Hot-and-Spicy ramen soup, which was just enough for you, Soap, Price, Gav, and Ghost. You thanked whatever higher power might exist out there as you stacked the bowls on top of each other, carrying them close to your chest to avoid dropping them.

"I have the finest delicacy here for you, boys," you say humorously. "Three Michelin stars,” you continue, earning a laugh from Soap and Gaz. You set the bowls down on the kitchen island, keeping one for yourself. You tear open the lid and untwist a water bottle cap, pouring the water up to the ridged line inside the bowl. After you poured the tiny packet of dehydrated vegetables and chicken, you stick it into the microwave and lean cross-armed on the kitchen island, waiting for the three minutes to pass. The rest dutifully follow your lead, taking turns with the microwave built into your kitchen and the other one that was plugged in on the counter. 

"Dinner" was eaten in relative silence. Not that anyone could hear anything anyways (you really needed to tell Soap to go easy on the frags before you all went deaf). You were too busy eating your soup to notice the team sneaking glances at each other and then at you, Ghost most of all.

After you all ate, you pointed everyone to their rooms. Soap went straight away, which is how you could tell he was really exhausted. Price and Gaz sat on the couch debriefing for a while before they headed to bed, too. Only you and Ghost were left. You were lying on the couch, half-tuned in to some old-time game show on the TV. Ghost sat on the loveseat to the right of you, polishing his gun and sneaking occasional glances at the TV—and at you. 

“Shit,” you exclaimed suddenly. Ghost halted his movements, watching as you got up to a sitting position, closing your eyes.

“What is it?” he asked you quietly, finger moving instinctively to the trigger.

“No, I’m fine. I just… I just remembered I have to wash my hair. It’ll be a fucking miracle if I don’t collapse in the shower,” you sighed. “It’s a whole process, and it’s gonna take forever, and it’s already late… I’d better start now,” you finish, rubbing your eyes.

Ghost sat for a moment, contemplating what you said.

“I’ll do it for you.”

“What?”

“I mean—only if you want. I could. Over the sink or... something.” It’s the first time you ever heard Ghost sound unsure of himself, and it completely threw you off.

“Are you... sure?” you ask, staring at him.

“Positive,” he replied, staring back.

“Okay… I’ll be right back,” you say, moving towards the stairs. Once you were in your bathroom, you grabbed everything you would need: a towel, shampoo, conditioner, and your beloved shampoo brush.

When you got back downstairs, you found Ghost ungloved and running water in the sink, absentmindedly touching his fingers to the stream of water as his eyes were fixed on the TV. It occurred to you that he was making sure the temperature of the water would be okay for you. You weren’t entirely sure why your stomach got light at the sight of it, but you stubbornly decided to ignore it.

“You ready?” he asked, eyeing all the stuff you were carrying. 

“Mhm,” you say, setting everything down on the counter. “I’ll just lie like this over the sink to make it easier for you,” you tell him, lying down and pulling your knees up on the unusually long kitchen island. The size of the island had been something that drew you to the house when you were house shopping, even though you weren’t home enough to cook on it.

“Is that a torture device?” Ghost said, jutting his chin at the shampoo brush sitting on the counter as he got your hair wet.

You laugh for the first time all day when your eyes land on what he’s gesturing at. “Far from it. You kinda just use it to get the shampoo into my scalp. Probably my favorite invention.”

“Your favourite invention?” Ghost repeated to you.

“Yeah. What’s yours?” you ask him. 

He’s silent for a minute as he squeezes the shampoo onto your hair and works it into a lather.

“Electric kettle,” he responds finally.

“You Brits and your tea,” you say fondly, laughing to yourself. Ghost let out a sound, and it took you a second before you realized he chuckled. He laughed. You had never heard him laugh before. You decided you liked the sound.

“What’s your favorite kind of tea, Ghost?” you ask, closing your eyes. He had started using the shampoo brush, and it felt like heaven. You could feel the grime and dried blood dislodging from your scalp; you didn’t even want to see what the sink looked like right now.

“Black tea, maybe earl gray. But I’m not picky,” he shrugged. His eyes narrowed at the nape of your neck where he saw a thin line of blood. 

“You have an interesting cut back here, Sparrow.” He started rinsing out the shampoo as he carefully moved your hair aside to examine it further.

“Well, shit,” you say, sighing louder than necessary. “How bad is it? Is it stitch-worthy? Am I gonna make it?” you ask sarcastically.

“No stitches. You’ll live. Unfortunately,” Ghost deadpans. You roll your eyes at him just as you notice his hands aren’t in your hair anymore. You turn your head to see him squinting at the conditioner bottle.

“The hell is this for?” he asked.

“The conditioner?” you replied incredulously. 

“I know what it is, it’s just—why is it separate?” 

You squint your eyes in thought, trying to understand what he meant when it suddenly clicked.

“Simon…” you say, a wicked grin spreading on your face as you move up to a sitting position, carful not to drip water everywhere. His eyes shot down to look at you. That got his attention. You almost never called him by his actual name. “Please don’t tell me you use it.”

“Use what?” Ghost pressed, getting mildly annoyed. Oh, how he wanted to wipe that stupidly adorable annoying smile off your face. He hated not being in on a joke, even if he rarely showed it.

“On today’s true crime episode,” you say, grabbing the conditioner bottle out of his hands to use as a makeshift microphone. He crosses his arms at your antics, seeming oblivious to the fact that he was getting water and eucalyptus-scented suds all over the arms of his uniform.

“We’re looking at one of the most prolific criminals out there, Lieutenant Ghost. It’s terrifying, it’s horrifying, it's downright disturbing. What are his crimes ,you ask? Using two-in-one… shampoo and conditioner,” you finish, lowering your voice for dramatic effect.

“Fucking hell,” Ghost rasps, voice tinged with exasperation. “Am I not supposed to?”

“No!” you whisper-shout, mindful of your sleeping teammates. “Shampoo strips all the oils from your hair and conditioner puts moisture back in! How could one product do that simultaneously? I mean, seriously, Ghost,” you say, squeezing a generous amount into the palm of your hand before smoothing it over your strands. “It’s common sense.”

“It’s not common sense. Tedious and unnecessary is what it is,” he replies gruffly, watching you put the conditioner on. “So what, you just–put it on, and… leave it there?”

“Yeah… I usually leave it in for 15 minutes while I do other stuff but I’ll just let it sit for a couple minutes since I’m-” you pause, yawning. “Tired.”

“Do you want me to wash it out for you?” he asks, his voice going unusually soft.

“Yes, please,” you responded, lying back down so your hair was over the edge of the sink again. 

His fingers thread through your hair, ridding it of the last traces of conditioner. You force your eyes closed, trying not to think about the fact that Ghost’s face was mere inches away from yours. You felt something cold brush by your face, and your eyes shoot open to see the gleam of his dog tags dangling over you.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he mumbled, tucking them back into his uniform like it was nothing.

Like it didn’t just get your heart caught in your throat.

You can feel his hands wringing out the water in your hair, strong enough to get your hair dry but not strong enough to hurt you. In a final act of pure kindness, he takes the towel sprawled out on the counter and throws it over your head.

“Done,” he says nonchalantly, ignoring your muffled protests from under the towel. When you finally get the towel off and tie it around your hair, you see him standing by the bottom of the stairs, leaning against the wall and watching you intently. Suddenly shy, you pull a stray blanket off of one of the chairs at the island and wrap yourself in it as makeshift armor from his icy gaze.

“You going to bed?” he asks as you walk up. You spin on your heel to look back down at where he’s still standing, arms crossed.

“No. I was actually just about to go for a six mile run,” you shoot back, rolling your eyes. “You should go to sleep too, Ghost. I could see your beady little eyes fighting to stay open at the dinner table.”

“My eyes are not beady.”

“Whatever. I’m going to bed. You can stay up until my neighbor's rooster Fish starts crowing if you like,” you say, fighting off another yawn.

“Your neighbor has a rooster named Fish?” he asks, amusement tinting his voice as he starts up the steps after you.

“Mr. Stricker is a strange man,” you reply. You’re met with a few seconds of silence as Ghost catches up to you.

“What do you call a fish wearing a bow tie?” he questions.

“Oh God.”

“Sofishticated,” he continues, not missing a beat. You were not expecting the laugh that erupts from your lips, and you clamp a hand over your mouth, wary of the rest of the team sleeping right above you. 

“That was so not funny,” you say, clearing your throat in a poor attempt to cover up your smile.

“Mhm. And yet you laughed,” Ghost replied. Even in the dim light, you can spot the glint in his eyes. You’d like to think that under his mask, he was smiling too. 

He fell into step with you now, his hands brushing against yours as you two made it up the rest of the stairs. There was plenty of room for both of you to walk without touching each other, but you didn’t pull your hand away.

Neither did he.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley fanfic #mw2 #modern warfare 2 #ghost x reader #onestopfanficshop

[guinea-pig16]

House Call

Harvey x Farmer!Reader

Fic is below the cut! Please enjoy!

Summary: Harvey gets calls from people in Pelican Town who are concerned for the new farmer's health. Harvey goes and pays the new farmer a visit.

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Word Count: 2100+

Warnings: Wounds, bruises, burns

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Harvey walked past the bus stop, medical bag in hand, enjoying the warm breeze. It was late spring, the days getting warmer and longer as summer attempted to take over. He was on his way to the old farm that had been taken over by a newcomer a couple months ago. The new farmer, named Y/N, had already gained the reputation of being incredibly friendly. They would come into town frequently to get tasks from the help board, buy supplies, donate items to the museum, or just to chat with the townsfolk. Harvey personally didn’t talk to them much, not that he avoided them of course, he just tended to stay inside his clinic, oftentimes missing their visits into town. 

He was on his way to the farm because he had gotten a series of calls from his fellow townspeople concerned for Y/N’s health. Apparently, they had gone to the saloon late last night appearing battered and bruised after an adventure to the mines. Harvey was fairly certain that they were fine as he’d heard they frequented the mines quite often, but being a doctor, he couldn’t say they’d be fine if he didn’t at least check on them. 

Harvey entered the farm and looked around in slight awe. The last time he saw the old farm it was overgrown with gnarled trees, weeds, and stones. Now it was nothing but a clear field (with the occasional large stones and logs) with plots of crops growing happily in the soil. Something was off though as he stepped closer. He was no farmer by any means, but the plots didn’t appear to be watered yet. He looked to his left. The mailbox still had its flag up, meaning the mail hadn’t been checked. He furrowed his brow and checked his watch. It was about 15 minutes past 9.

Odd… I thought they were usually up and about by this time. He thought as he climbed the steps to the porch. Their house was quite small, looking more like a cabin than a house. It seemed as though they had attempted to repair some of the cracks and holes on the outside themself. He knocked on the door. 

From inside he heard shuffling and a quiet groan, then a muffled coming. As he heard footsteps approaching the door, he quickly gave himself a once over, smoothing his coat and readjusting his collar. The door swung open and a tired (slightly annoyed) Y/N clad in pajamas greeted him. They stared at him blearily before recognition flashed in their eyes. They quickly straightened and cleared their throat.

“Uh, Dr. Harvey. What a surprise, I didn’t expect to see you.” They said, fixing him with a slightly strained polite smile. Harvey quickly glanced them over, trying to see any injuries. They were wearing a loose long-sleeve shirt and baggy pajama pants with slippers. He didn’t notice any physical ailments.

“Please, just call me Harvey. I came today because I’ve received several phone calls from people in town concerned about your well being.” He said. He watched as their face flushed slightly. They brought a hand to the back of their neck and glanced at the floor, shuffling slightly.

“...Ah, I see… Well, I’m doing fine, just a lil’ worn out from last night. Nothing some rest can’t fix, y’know?” They said sheepishly. Harvey raised a brow at them, causing them to shrink slightly.

“I was told you looked like you had gotten into a fight with a bear last night.” 

“...Oh… well… yeah…” They stared at their feet.

“Have you treated your wounds at least?” He asked.

“Um… yeah…?” They said, sounding unsure.

“May I check?” Harvey asked. He saw them hesitate to answer. “It won’t take long, I just want to make sure your wounds don’t get infected.” He clarified, giving them a small smile. He watched them consider his offer. After a moment, they sighed and stepped to the side.

“Alright, you make a good point. Come in, I’ll make some coffee.” With that, they walked inside letting Harvey follow. He closed the door behind him and looked around. It was fairly small, but cozy. Their bed was pressed into a corner, the sheets a mess. There was a fireplace against the far wall and a box tv sitting next to it with a pillow in front of it to act as a chair. Against the right wall was a small kitchenette, a table with two chairs, and a door which he assumed led to the bathroom. 

Y/N gestured towards the table. “Go ahead and have a seat, make yourself at home.” Harvey walked to the table and set his bag down. He sat and observed them as they rummaged around to find coffee grounds. A slight frown settled on his face as he noticed their movements. If they moved too fast, they’d wince and slow down. There was the slightest limp to their steps as they went to the sink to fill the coffee machine. They sat down in the other chair, moving slowly as if going faster would hurt too much.

They watched Harvey as he shrugged off his coat and opened his bag, pulling out a thermometer. He turned to them. 

“Alright, to start I’m going to take your temperature.” He leans close and places the thermometer against their forehead. “Have you been experiencing any headaches, tiredness, or nausea?” He asks. He doesn’t notice how Y/N begins to flush. 

“Um… no, not that I know of…? I’m just kinda… sore.” They say, letting out a breath as Harvey leans back and checks the thermometer. Their temperatures normal. That’s good, it doesn't seem as though they have an infection. He glances at them. I’d better still check where they’ve been injured though. He places the thermometer back in his bag and rolls up his sleeves.

“Your temperature is normal. Where have you been feeling sore?” He asks. They rest their head in their hand, drumming their fingers, appearing uncomfortable. 

“Um, mostly my back and legs. My arms are pretty sore too.” Harvey nods.

“So, what exactly happened last night?” He asks.

They look at the table, appearing embarrassed. “Well… I went mining and uh, might’ve gotten a bit in over my head… There were a lot more monsters than last time and… I think you can guess the rest…” They traced patterns in the wood of the table. Harvey grimaced. He knew the mines were full of dangerous creatures. Slimes, bats, rock crabs, huge flies, shadow people and more.

“May I see?” They stare at him for a moment.

“...See what?”

“...Your injuries…?” He says, raising a brow. Y/N flushed, eyes widening.

“Um, they’re not that bad! Don’t worry about them, I’m fine! Probably just need some pain pills to be honest…” They say quickly, tugging on their sleeve. Harvey had a feeling that they didn’t want him to see their wounds. Either because they were embarrassed, or they were that bad.

“I just want to make sure you’ve properly dressed them.” They looked down at the table. “I’ll leave as soon as I see you’re okay. That’s the only reason I’m here.” Harvey said. They nervously tapped their fingers on the table and then let out a sigh.

“...Alright…” With that, they began to lift their shirt off. He sees them wince slightly as they raise the shirt off their torso. He grimaces as he sees black and yellow bruises adorning their sides and stomach. They had shoddily wrapped a bandage around their middle and upper right arm, dried blood having bloomed to the surface. 

“May I remove the bandage?” He asked. Y/N nodded slightly, looking to the side, embarrassed. Harvey stood and gently began to remove the bandage from their arm. He stopped when they winced, and then proceeded even slower. 

Harvey winced himself when he fully removed the bandage. There was a large burn on their upper arm, it appeared to be an acid burn. Y/N glanced at him and cleared their throat, looking sheepish.

“Yeah… A slime got me when I wasn’t paying attention. Could’ve been worse, my shirt took most of the hit… Bastard ruined a good shirt…” They trailed off. 

“...I see. And you know how to treat burns like this?” He asked, opening his bag. He pulled out a fresh bandage and some petroleum jelly and a sterile cloth. They tapped their fingers nervously on the table.

“...Wrap it…?” Harvey smiled slightly and went to the sink and ran water over the cloth. 

“Yes, but you’re supposed to rinse off the burn first with water to clear any harmful residue. Then you wrap it loosely. You wrapped yours too tight. Wrapping it too tightly could cause it to swell.” He sat back down and began to gently wipe the burn. He frowned, the burn had already begun to swell slightly. 

“...Oh…” Y/N’s face was flushed as they stared at the floor. The two of them sat in silence for a few minutes as Harvey treated the burn, wiping it down and then spreading petroleum jelly on it.

“...You didn’t think to call me?” He asked quietly, wrapping the burn loosely with the fresh bandage. He waited for a response, not fully expecting one.

“...I didn’t want to bother you…” They said softly. Harvey halted at that. He looked at them incredulously.

“You didn’t want to bother me, a doctor, who’s whole job is to treat people?” Their face blazed red.

“I don’t know! It was late, the clinic was already closed! And I… I thought I could deal with it myself…” They trailed off, brows furrowed.

Harvey sighed and finished wrapping the bandage. He began to unwrap the bandage around their middle, taking care to go slow. 

“Y/N, I am your doctor. Even when the clinic is closed, you can always call me and I’ll take care of you. It’s my job, and I’m happy to do it.” He finished unwrapping the bandage and assessed the wound. It was a decently sized gash. He retrieved some rubbing alcohol from his bag and began cleaning it. Y/N was silent.

“...I know I don’t know you very well, but you can come to me for anything. Doesn’t matter if it’s because you’re sick, or if you’re just in need of some company, I’m here for you, alright? My door’s always open.” He paused. “Well, at least til’ 3, then you’ll need to call me so I can let you in.” Y/N chuckled at that, making him smile. He finished cleaning the gash and put some petroleum jelly on it as well, then wrapped it in new bandages. 

“There, good as new!” He said, leaning back. “Your cut on your side was shallow enough to not need stitches. Your burn should heal in a couple weeks, as well as the cut.” He pulled out some pain medicine from his bag and handed the bottle to Y/N. “Take this once every 4 hours for your soreness. It should help.” 

“...Thanks, Harvey. For checking on me and everything.” They said, a soft smile on their face. Harvey returned the smile.

“Of course. What kind of doctor would I be if I let a member of the town go without treatment?” At that, the coffee machine beeped, making the two of them turn their heads.

“Oh, coffee’s done.” Y/N stood and put their shirt back on. They grabbed two mugs from the cabinet. “Are you able to stay for a cup? I know you still have to run the clinic and everything, but it wouldn’t be long if you’d like to stay.” They asked. Harvey mulled it over in his head. He probably should be getting back by now… But Maru was working today, and he left a note behind explaining where he was. Besides, one cup wouldn’t hurt, right?

He smiled. “That sounds lovely.” Y/N returned his smile and poured him and them a cup as he packed away his supplies and set his bag on the ground. They set his mug in front of him and sat down. He picked it up and took a sip, savoring the warmth and roast.

“So…” He said, catching Y/N’s attention. “What’s it like in the mines?” A grin spread across their face, their eyes lighting up.

“Well, it’s pretty awesome! The caves are beautiful! And there’s tons of ores and minerals, oh! And if you like fighting, that’s the place to go!” They kept talking, Harvey listening, taking occasional sips of his coffee.

One mug, turned into two, then three. And eventually the pot was empty, but they both kept sitting there, talking about any and everything. Eventually, Harvey had to bid them goodbye and head back to the clinic. 

As he walked past the bus stop, enjoying the breeze, he thought back to their smile and laughter as they told him about their adventures to the mines. He smiled to himself. He couldn’t wait to see them again.

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Hello hello hellooooo !!! it's been awhile since I last wrote a fic huh?? This is my first time writing a Stardew fic too !! Hope yall liked it !! Ciao !!!

xoxoxoxo

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tagged people:

@dokoni-mo @minnieplier-blog @takashi747 @justsomedirt @kieropal @marvelluvv @0bs1d1ankn1ght @punkghost141

#x reader #gim fic #stardew valley harvey #stardew valley #sdv #sdv harvey #sdv fanfic #stardew valley fanfic #sdv harvey x reader #sdv harvey x farmer #stardew harvey #stardew farmer #stardew valley farmer #sdv farmer

[writtenfangirl]

I would love to see more Charles lecerc from you, the way you write him is so good. Maybe him trying to convince his girlfriend to move to Monaco with him and it’s all sweet and cute

Treasured Memories

Charles is literally so fine. I could stare at his face all day and not get tired of it. And it really doesn't help that his personality seems just as fine as his face.

I know his native language is French and not Italian but I always thought it would be so cute if I had a boyfriend who could speak a lot of languages and he chooses to call me a term of endearment in a different language than his native tongue.

Fic's only about 2100 words so enjoy!

Part 2

Charles Leclerc has and always will be a determined man.

He wasn’t the kind of person who rested unless he got what he wanted and he did whatever it takes to get the things he wants. 

Whether through his sheet grit, his determination, his talent or the bountiful resources that his family fought tooth and nail to give him, Charles did everything and anything to succeed.

It’s how he won the F2 championship in his first and only season, how he won rookie of the year during his debut with Sauber and why he was signed by the oldest and most respected team on the grid before he had even reached his second year as a Formula One driver.

He rarely ever heard the word no. And when he did, he always knew how to turn it into a yes.

So when he had asked his girlfriend of three years, Y/N Y/L/N, to move in with him, he hadn’t been expecting her rejection.

“Move in with me, amore,” Charles said, his voice cutting through the loud speakers that were playing Harry Potter’s orchestral theme song.

It was one of those rare days when neither Charles nor Y/N were off somewhere else around the world. With the season reaching their summer break and Y/N requesting time off from work to spend time with him, Charles and Y/N had opted to stay in Charles’ apartment and simply relax together. He wasn’t usually one for a lazy day but because he rarely ever got to spend time with his girlfriend, it was easy to forget about his training and his work outs and team strategy building for the day. It was even easier to forget those things when she was peacefully leaning against him, her eyes glued to the TV screen that was playing the first Harry Potter movie as their bodies were protected from the frigid air conditioning with a cozy blanket.

Charles felt Y/N tense before she pulled herself away from him, her weight supported by her arm as her attention shifted to Charles. Harry Potter was just about to tell Draco Malfoy off for being mean to Ronald Weasley and Charles knew it was one of Y/N’s favorite scenes. But she’d forgotten about it as she processed Charles’s simple request.

The words hung in the air and Charles paused the TV before the scene could progress further. He also knew that Y/N would make him rewind back to the scene if she had missed it.

“What did you just say?” Y/N said slowly, her eyes focused on Charles. 

“Y/N, move in with me.”

He fully expected her jubilant shouts or even a wonderful kiss of happiness followed by an ecstatic “yes!” but Y/N did none of those things. Instead she said a very emphatic, “No…”

“No?” 

“No…”

Charles wasn’t exactly stung by the rejection. He was more surprised if anything. He couldn’t understand why she would say no. They had been together three years. It seemed like the most natural course of action for Y/N to move in with him, the next step to bring their relationship to newer heights.

“Why don’t you want to move in with me, amore?” Charles asked.

“It’s not that I don’t want to. I just don’t think it’s a good idea, Charles. I mean, I moved to Monaco just a year ago. Now you’re asking me to move in with you.”

She did have a point. Y/N did leave London to live in Monaco but she had justified the move because it was better for her career. 

She was an international correspondent for the BBC, which meant she was often sent to different countries around the world. After Brexit, it became harder for her to travel around Europe and, at the time, moving to Monaco was the sensible response.

Being able to see Charles more often was just the added bonus.

“But amore,” Charles protested, “you practically live here already. You have clothes in my closet and skincare in my bathroom. You even have keys here. You see my family so often, maman and my brothers think you’re an honorary Leclerc. I don’t see the problem with you moving in.”

“What about my lease?” 

“I’ll pay for the rest of it.” He deadpanned. “You’re landlord is terrible, amore.”

Y/N winced. He got her there. Her landlord really was terrible. There was always something broken in her apartment, whether it was a broken heater in the middle of winter, a leaky faucet in her kitchen sink, a toilet that refused to flush or a TV that only played static, it took her landlord months to fix those things. It’s why Charles had given Y/N keys to his apartment in the first place. If something went wrong, she could always spend the night. But things went wrong so often that for the past six months, Y/N spent five months living in Charles’ apartment rather than her own.

Not that he was particularly complaining.

He loved having Y/N around.

Y/N’s schedule was just as hectic as his was, likely even more so. She always had three suitcases packed and ready to go just in case she had to leave at a moment’s notice. The rare moments when Y/N came straight to his apartment after a tiring assignment and Charles had been home to greet her were highlights of their relationship. He wanted her to come home to him. And the even rarer moments when he came home to her after his own hectic schedule? Those were memories he etched in his mind forever so he could relive them in his dreams.

“What about my space,” Y/N added. “I work from home a lot and I don’t have a space here to work.”

Fully expecting this, Charles’ next words were unhurried and reassuring. “I’ve already planned it. I can move my simulator and my gaming consoles in the living room. There’s plenty of space here. You can use the game room as your office. I even installed speakers there because I know you like to listen to Taylor Swift while you work.”

Y/N’s eyebrows shot straight up, causing Charles to grin. “Wow,” she said, mildly impressed. “You really have thought of everything.”

He did think about everything. He didn’t want to give her a reason to say no and the only way he could guarantee she’ll say yes was if Charles handled everything so that Y/N didn’t have to put in any effort. She always hated moving and he knew he would have to move mountains and cross seas just to ensure that Y/N would say yes and so he did just that. 

He tried his best not to sound so smug. “Oui. All you have to do is say yes. You don’t have to lift a finger. I’ll call the movers and plan everything and your things could be here by tomorrow if you wanted.”

And yet Charles could see the hesitation in her eyes. Something was holding her back. He knew his girlfriend enough to know that what’s holding her back wasn’t any trivial reason. This was something big. 

“What’s making you say no?” He asked patiently.

“Alright,” Y/N said at the question, her hesitation vanishing and steely determination filling her features. “Do you really know why I don’t want to move in with you? You might not like what I say.”

Charles nodded. He wanted nothing more than to know what horrible reason could possibly be stopping the love of his life from living with him so he could find a way to stop it.

“I’ve noticed a pattern with you, Charles.”

He pulled his brows into a frown. “A pattern?”

“Yes, babe. A pattern. You once told me that in your previous relationships, the love and magic between you two ended when they moved in.”

“What?”

“When you and Giada were together and she moved in, things ended between you two after a year. With Charlotte, it was two. Alexandra had six months. I love you, Charles, in a way that I had never loved anyone before. I don’t want things to end between us.”

He blinked at her once. Twice.

Y/N had always been blunt but she was never unfeeling. She looked as though she wanted to snatch the words from the air and shove it back in herself if she could. “Charles, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to off—”

Charles’ sharp bark of laughter interrupted her. 

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise as laughter shook his body, the sounds coming out from him echoing in the living room.

Her lips pulled into a frown as she took one of the pillows that rested on the couch and hit him with it. “It’s not funny, Charles!”

“I’m sorry!” He howled, not sounding sorry at all as his laughter choked the words from him, leaving him gasping for breath. Tears were beginning to collect in his eyes, further frustrating his girlfriend.

With a growl, Y/N hit him with the pillow again. Charles couldn’t even register the thump of the pillow with how hard he was laughing.

“Y/N, it’s not funny,” he managed to get out as he laughed. He clutched midsection, his stomach beginning to cramp from how hard herwas laughing.

“Then stop laughing!”

“I can’t!” 

“If you’re going to be that way, then fine!” Y/N pushed away the blankets that covered them and began to stand up. Instantly, Charles sobered up, his hand shooting forward to grab Y/N’s arm, pulling her to him. She landed on a heap on his lap, her hair tickling his nose, the scent of her shampoo enveloping him as he threaded his arms around her body and placed a kiss on her cheek. 

She huffed, rolling her eyes in annoyance, causing Charles to chuckle at her. Another kiss on her cheek and Y/N’s annoyed expression softened. “Y/N,” he said gently, “why would you worry about that?”

“Because,” she whispered, her previous annoyance vanishing like smoke, “usually what happens in almost every relationship is that the little traits that we once thought were cute and endearing about the other person become things we hate. I love that you ask me to cook for you whenever I’m at home but what if one day I wake up and I start to hate that about you. I don’t want that to happen.”

“You are being so silly, amore. That won’t ever happen to us.”

“How do you know that.”

“Because I’ve known you for so long and but I still find new things about you to love everyday. Even the things I don’t like about you, I love. And I love those things about you because I love you. Besides, of my past relationships you’re the girl I’m most compatible with. Every chore you don’t like to do, I like doing.” He said the words with a self-satisfied smirk. “You have no reason to say no. So say yes.”

“So long as you’re absolutely, 100 percent sure you want this.”

This time, Charles’ expression could only be referred to as serious. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I love you, Y/N. I want to spend forever with you and I can only do that if you let me. So please let me.”

“Oh,” Y/N sighed as a smile pulled at her lips, “you Frenchies and your romantic words.”

“Monegasque, amore!” Charles sputtered and this time, it was Y/N’s turn to laugh. 

“I’m just teasing, babe. You’ll have to get used to it since I’m going to be moving in.”

His arms squeezed her tighter, pressing her against him at her words. “You mean it? You’ll move in? You cannot take it back if you say yes, amore. I won’t let you.”

Y/N’s smile could only be described as incandescent. “Yes. I’ll move in. I’ll move anywhere so long as it’s with you.”

And just like that, what was once a normal, pleasant day, was now another treasured memory. He couldn’t imagine anything more amazing than hearing Y/N’s yes. And if he felt this way about her agreeing to move in, he could only imagine how he’d feel when she’d give him her yes after his proposal.

But his impending proposal to the woman he now knows to be the love of his life was another matter entirely. Right now, he wanted to bask in the moment and he couldn’t think of a better way to do that than by laying on his—their—couch, watching their favorite films and holding the girl of his dreams.

#charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x you #formula 1 #fomula one #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one imagine #formula one fanfiction #ferrari

[shalotttower]

Fractalize (part 2)

Title: Fractalize Fandom: Hunter x Hunter Summary: "You do this sometimes," he continues, tugging a bit harder. "When I ask a question and it takes you longer to respond. When we watch a movie, and I'm sure you stopped following at least twenty minutes ago." Word count: 2100+ Characters: Chrollo x Reader (female) Notes: yandere Chrollo, kidnapped, depressed and miserable Reader, Reader is dissociating, morbid pondering, morbid imagery, psychological manipulation, intrusive thoughts, non-con touching, non-con kiss. I start thinking that sad is probably my favourite genre to write at this point. Part 1 Part 3 is in question. I have some drafts, but not sure if it'll become anything.

Fractalize - making things into smaller copies of themselves over and over again.

Your mother always smelled of fresh linen and something powdery, like her face cream which you tried once in secret. The fragrance held you mesmerized, and when the jar accidentally dropped from your hand, shattering into pieces, it lingered everywhere: on the bathroom tiles, in the cracks and narrow space under the sink. Her silent disappointment was so overpowering that you cleaned the mess three times.

That scent clung to her knitting needles too when she sat with yarn on her lap. It made way into your mind place, waiting for the most inappropriate of moments to resurface: she would show you how to knit, loop after loop, and eventually you were able to create your own tiny scarf.

Hideous, that's what it was.

But also the first thing you ever knitted, so you cherished it, not caring for the holes and loose threads. She called it pretty, mothers do lie like that.

"I was thinking," Chrollo begins. Clean plates are stacked next to a dish rack, ready to be dried. You help him sometimes with this mundane chore out of boredom or a faint allusion to the life you had.

"Mm."

When you stand so close, his shoulder occasionally touches yours, and a lump forms in your throat, a very unimportant physical aspect of your being that you've stopped paying attention to long ago. You swallow it away, like every single morning before putting on the same shirt for the eighth day in a row.

Dry and repeat.

"Is there anything specific you'd like to do today?"

You pick up another plate. How odd. A few months ago this question would've made you ecstatic. Not that there was a real chance to sway Chrollo's plans, but it was a gesture, the pretence that your input mattered, and you took everything from it, until it started tasting stale. A shy kind of feeling, misplaced and fragile, would bloom in your chest, and prompt you say something soft, silly and naive: 'maybe we can have a picnic?', 'I'd like a carrot cake', 'yes, I want to watch that period drama for the hundredth time.'

And he would agree sometimes. Or suggest his alternative instead, which turned out more often than not to be less favorable, but you accepted it because what else was there? In-between the walls decorated with expensive paintings, books you already read three times, between Chrollo who listened intently to every word and a faint buzz of some high-end place, you chose to take whatever you could.

It doesn't bother you anymore, going or not going. Doing nothing or doing something. Being with him in a room or being alone, even though the last one is more compelling. The initial excitement that came with having small choices has passed. You think sometimes that if you took a knitting needle and sunk it deep into your chest, the surface around it would start crumbling and bare a hollow cavity with just ribs and dusty spaces.

Chrollo's suggestions are very thought out. Aimed to convince you that this arrangement isn't that bad after all, but also aimed to bring him something from it, be it sitting uncomfortably close to you on a sofa or holding your hand the entire walk. His presence is stifling in more ways than one, and you've been choking, choking, choking on it for so long, that finally all those cracks running across your insides started to feel liberating.

"No," you say. "Not really. Anything you want is fine."

Chrollo's been asking this more often lately. What you want to eat and what you want to do. Even whether you want to go out sometimes (with him, of course, never alone). Perhaps he's trying to figure any new preference you might have. Or a part of him can sense this deterioration that's slow to set in, but once it does - it stays.

"Dear," there's a tone in his voice. It's not worry per se. Chrollo doesn't worry for you, he worries for that little world of his, made of forced interactions, silk bed sheets and fake domesticity, which you're a part of, an intricate cog he can keep closely tucked to his side. Sheltered, protected, cared for - these words don't fit. So you use other instead, like imprisoned, kept, thing. He likes to have them, from trinkets he steals to human beings - you. Maybe it comes from years of owning nothing at all, having nothing at all, and now the allure of having much and more is like second skin.

You've heard stories about children abandoned to their own devices. Those who were left to roam the streets, scavenge through trash and fight other kids for a half-eaten sandwich or a can of beans. You wonder if he was like that, with messy hair, bony limbs and a desperate need to own something that no one could take.

Bit by bit you slip.

That tone means he's sensing it already, that bit by bit you're trying to leave him behind.

Chrollo always catches up with things easily. From the way he grips your arms, you wonder if that's what he did just now, caught up.

"Yes?"

The dishes are all done, clean and sparkling. The sink shines too, almost mocking you with its perfectness - there's nothing to do anymore. Your mind space of fake wooden floors and wide windows is waiting to be occupied, but it would feel wrong to retreat there so soon. Chrollo will ask questions, and if you're not able to keep up, he'll notice too. He slides both palms down your skin, squeezing a tad harder at the elbows; and so you stare into the sink.

His hands aren't soft at all. They're a little dry from soap, callused around fingertips. How effortless it would be for him to break your bones, one by one, starting from the wrist, but that won't happen; no, all that comes from him is words whispered in your ear, caresses and cruelty wrapped in kindness - it sounds poetic when phrased this way.

Your reflection stares back from the stainless metal. She doesn't look bad. Chrollo takes good care of her, makes sure she eats balanced meals and drinks enough water. She looks alright, with shiny hair and healthy nails.

The eyes is what doesn't match this picture of okay-ness. Not empty. Not vacant. Just frozen in time and very, very still.

Chrollo presses closer until his chest is touching her shoulder blades. You wonder if he considers it a victory, this silent compliance. It's not acceptance really, because that should be accompanied by a sense of peace or fulfillment and none of the two are currently present. It's not even resignation - that requires energy to acknowledge defeat.

If neither of those, what is it then?

"You've been awfully quiet today."

A drop of water falls from the tap and slides down the drain.

"The whole week in fact," his thumb strokes her stomach through the fabric. Slow circles, up and down. Chrollo enjoys physical closeness so much that it should be surprising for someone like him - reserved, calm and collected - to thrive on such things, but you suppose when it comes to her there's an exception.

"Not that I mind it, but if something's bothering you, you know that I'm always ready to listen."

There is something bothering you actually. Many things. You want your cat back. You want him gone, away, to see your mother again and bake with her. Eat fresh pastries while listening to old songs on the radio and talk about silly things or whatever she liked to ponder over before you were swept off your feet like in those old fairy tales. You want your phone and accounts unlocked so you could message friends. You miss your grandmother with her apron, the way she laughed at corny jokes and told stories about her youth. You want many things that Chrollo would never agree on - you're well aware of that, that's why you keep them safely tucked away and rotting.

You also want him to stop pressing against your back, and this is far easier to achieve. Slowly you untuck yourself from between his body and the counter, then turn around. He watches your face calmly like always, with this unblinking gaze full of strange fixation; there are small lines in the corners of his eyes, barely noticeable ones. You count them - six in total, three for each eye.

Then you blink.

"I don't think there is anything."

"Really," Chrollo hums, playing with the hem of your shirt, and you wonder if he knows something you're not aware of him knowing. "You've spoken less than ten sentences in two days, yet there's nothing bothering you. I must say I don't believe that."

So this is how it's going to start. This is how the conversation begins, and it'll flow from here until Chrollo finds what he's searching for.

"I've been paying close attention."

You don't doubt it.

"And what did you notice?"

"Nothing pleasant," his finger finds a loose thread and wraps it around. The pull is light, as if testing whether it'll prompt you to move closer into his space. "Quite concerning things actually."

You don't budge an inch.

"You do this sometimes," he continues. "When I ask a question and it takes you longer to respond. When we watch a movie, and I'm sure you stopped following at least twenty minutes ago. Or when you go over the same page until it's clear that I'm looking."

Chrollo's collarbone is a crisp line with a faint old scar; your attention skims over it to the sharp edges of his jaw. No smile today.

"And I wondered where you have been going."

He tugs a bit harder and the thread snaps.

It should've stunned you how fast everything crumbled - the imaginary wooden floors, Miss Whiskerton on your lap and the lizard, the wide windows - but no, it's surprisingly anti-climactic. Nothing breaks dramatically, just splits the middle, leaving you with cold kitchen tiles underneath your bare feet. You thought about this scenario - Chrollo cornering you, many times, and the words you would choose when he did, yet they fail to manifest and nothing fills the silence except a mute sensation of acknowledgement which settles over your head and shoulders. Your knees don't buckle. Your breath doesn't hitch, there is no shivering, and perhaps that's the most terrifying reaction of all.

So what, you think. And it's such a simple thought, plain and ordinary, so what.

Chrollo has his ways, but you have yours; they are slow and small, and squeeze you very tight. You can't comprehend this new expression on his face, haven't seen it before.

"My dear," he says in a quiet voice, so unlike his usual smooth, charming tone. "Broken thoughts and forlorn dreams can't fix what you want them to."

He taps your forehead, as if to engrave those words into the soft tissue of your brain. They slip away though, like running water.

"Wherever you choose to wander, there's not a single spot where I'm not right behind. Delusions don't suit you and it's simply sad to watch."

The kiss comes without warning; Chrollo doesn't bother to say anything else, just cups your face. It's warm and deep, a full-mouthed kiss that tastes faintly of tea you two drank during breakfast.

It's rot, you realize with a ten minute delay; and this slack mouth he's caressing isn't yours. There's a plant behind his shoulder, some small cactus with white needles sitting on a windowsill. The sunlight creates patterns on the glass, soft yellow circles and lines. They shift every passing second.

He's going to do this now, isn't he. Kiss you when you slip too deep as a way to break the pattern and remind that this is where you're supposed to be - with him. In the kitchen wearing a thin shirt above the knee, with cracks that spread across your insides, seeking for every small space they can fill. You'll grow older by his side, he'll bring you material pleasures to compensate for the lack of mental ones - books, clothes, jewelry, a pet if you decide to ask (you won't). Chrollo is going to kiss you often until age creeps onto your faces, and you'll watch each other turn old together.

The plant on the windowsill looks so dry.

"Dear."

He pulls back a few inches. You meet his eyes.

"Mm?"

You will let the rot dig under your nails and wait for it to eat away until his hands eventually become empty; rot is something to grab onto. It's slow to set, but spreads fast once does and never runs out of supply.

#hunter x hunter #hunter x hunter fanfic #yandere #yandere chrollo #yandere chrollo lucilfer #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo lucifer x reader #shalott fanfiction

[white-wolf-buckaroo]

In his own twisted way: Prologue

So here it is! First part of my new daughter of Ares fic! I hope you love it as much as I do <3

Word count: 2100 ish words

Warnings: mention of character death

Fic masterlist here!

Ares hated children.

He hated their whining, their crying, their clinging. He didn’t care for the drawings they did, or their “cuteness” or their wonder for everything new around them, and he hated when they cried like babies because of a scrape on their knee, or when they had nightmares and wanted to be held.

He didn’t like them, not even his own.

He hated how they reminded him of his own weaknesses. He hated how they made him feel something other than anger, something he couldn't name.

But he couldn't hate her. Not entirely. Not when she looked at him with those big eyes, so much like her mother's, and a grin every time she saw him at her doorstep. Not when she smiled at him with that gap-toothed grin, so innocent and trusting, a polar opposite as to how everyone else looked at him. Not when she held his hand with her tiny fingers, so warm and soft, completely trusting him to lead the way.

She was his youngest daughter. Her name was Emily, and just as his other children, he hoped she would grow up to be a troublemaker, a rebel, and a fighter. Someone like him. He had hoped she would make him proud, or, maybe more fitting for him, at least amused. Useful for his battles.

And at barely six years old, she was a true daughter of Ares: she loved adventures, exploring the wild, she didn’t mind getting messy or dirty, and she stood up to whoever opposed to her. However, she was also gentle, kind, curious. She loved nature, and stories, and the stars, and learning. Her little soul was still pure… something Ares bewondered, even if he wouldn’t admit it to himself.

But she was a mistake. A mistake he had made with a mortal woman, which he had tried to ignore, and he almost succeeded at it; he had visited her very few times, enough for her to know who he was, but not sufficient for him to get attached.

Until the day he found out she was dead.

Her mother, not the girl. The woman he had once loved… or, more like, had had a relationship with, was dead. The woman who had birthed and raised their daughter alone, without his help, without his care. She was now gone, leaving their daughter orphaned, alone, and unprotected.

Ares had been fond of her. He hadn’t loved her, no, not really, or at least, not in the romantical way. She had been someone he shared interests with, with whom he formed a connection with, and as a result of that, came Emily. As an immortal being, he was more than accustomed to death (it kind of came in the job description for being the god of war), and especially the death of mortals; their lives were brief, like the blink of an eye, and it rarely affected him anymore, if ever.

But Emily was alone now, without any family left, and even if he was the god of war, and all the brutality and horrors that came with it, he wasn’t exempt of having feelings (on the contrary of what he said about himself). They were the reasons why he found new lovers from time to time, and had children with them every once in a while.

Even the god of war longs for some sort of connection and human emotion.

So he had no choice. He couldn’t have Emily live with him, for obvious reasons, and he also didn’t want that. No, he’d take her to the only place where she would be safe from the monsters that would end up eventually finding her: camp Half-Blood. The camp for demigods, where his other children were. The children he hated, and who hated him back.

He was sure Emily would end up hating him as well. They all did… it was only a matter of time.

So there he was, driving a car towards Long Island, with little Emily sleeping in the backseat, her head leaning against her teddy bear, breaths even and rhythmic. He tried to not pay attention to her wet cheeks, still glistening with tears shed for her mother, or how she had raised her arms up at him upon seeing him when he picked her up, wanting to be comforted by her father; Ares tried to not think about how much she trusted him, with his rough exterior, and without really knowing him, and most importantly, he tried to not think much about how moved it made him feel.

The car stopped in the middle of the road, not too far away from the entrance to camp, hidden in the heart of the forest. Ares reluctantly turned off the engine, and silence followed, only broken by Emily’s breathing, and the faint sound of morning rain falling on the roof of the car.

Ares took a deep breath, pushing back the conflicting emotions that surged within him.

He didn’t know why he was feeling like this. It made him extremely uncomfortable in his own skin, and that was something he didn’t experience often. Perhaps Aphrodite had played some trick on him… making him actually feel something at the prospect of leaving his young daughter all alone at camp half-blood. Something like… dread, and pain, and not the one he was used to. This was pain that came from other feelings he had, that usually blossomed in his chest the few times he visited Emily, or when he looked at her from the rearview inside that car, watching her sleep soundly.

But he didn’t know how to do it. He didn’t know how to be a father, he’d never really had good role models to learn from. He didn’t know how to comfort children, talk to them… or hell, love them. And he didn’t want to even try to… because that wasn’t like him. He hated children. Why even care about his own? He was an Olympian, and Olympians didn’t do that.

When the rain stopped, Ares stepped out of the car, and went to the backseat; Emily only stirred in her sleep when he fumbled with the seatbelt, the unfamiliar task more challenging than he’d like to admit, and she kept on sleeping when he took her into his arms out of the car.

She had with her only her teddy and a small backpack filled with her essentials; Ares hadn’t grabbed more of her stuff when retrieving her.

On top of the hill, where the whole expanse of Camp Half-Blood could be seen for those who had divine heritage, Ares stood, listening: it was very early in the morning, the sun hadn’t risen yet, and the few people at camp were still sleeping; in a few weeks, most of the cabins would be full of demigod children, running around, training, and relishing in the beginning of summer. Emily would have settled until then, and she’d be ready to begin her training alongside her half-siblings to become a warrior, just as every Ares kid did.

His daughter woke up before sunrise, while he was still standing at the same spot. She mumbled something, her little eyes fluttering open, cheeks warm against the skin of his neck. She clutched her bear tighter, tired.

“Daddy?”

Ares hummed, not used to a small child talking to him in such tender voice. Like everything involving Emily, it made him feel that unfamiliar warmth he was uncomfortable with… but that he longed for when he didn’t have it, missing it.

Emily raised her head, slowly starting to look around, and at Camp Half-Blood. Her new home.

“This is where you’ll be staying from now on” he said, watching her. Her little eyebrows frowned, and then she looked at him, directly in the eyes.

“With you?”

“With people like you” he clarified, making sure she understood it “Demigods. Half-bloods. Remember what I taught you about the gods?”

“You are one. It’s your job”

She didn’t really get it, that was obvious. But she was still very young, and he didn’t really expect her to do so. Compared to him… well, his life had been already so long, that her presence in it was like a single grain of sand in the beach: small and imperceptible.

And yet, she was the only one of his children he had brought to camp himself. The only one who he had stayed around enough time for her to call him daddy to his face. The only, and first one, for many things.

At sunrise, a centaur emerged from the big house at camp, and noticed pretty quickly the silhouette of the god on top of the hill, and the small child in his arms.

Ares watched Chiron make his way slowly up to them, and he set then Emily down to the ground, helping her put her backpack on (which looked comically enormous on her little form); she grabbed his hand when she spotted the centaur, tiny fingers clutching his own, nervous. He couldn’t really blame her: she was facing many changes in a very short period of time.

“Ares” greeted Chiron, reaching them. The god acknowledged him with a nod, watching the centaur shift his gaze from him to the little girl by his side, trying to hide behind his leather coat “Hello there, young lady” Emily shyly waved back at him, and introduced herself after Chiron did “I assume… she is yours?”

“My flesh and blood” answered Ares “She will be staying at camp from now on, permanently”

Chiron nodded, and stretched out a hand for her; Emily, encouraged by a nod from her father when she looked up at him, went to the centaur, still uncertain.

“She will be taken care of here”

“I sure hope so”

Chiron looked down at Emily again, smiling at her, trying to ease up her nerves.

“Let’s go to your cabin then, young lady”

He gently guided her to the pathway that led to camp, Ares still standing there, watching them go. But Emily turned back around before leaving, searching for his eyes.

“Daddy?” she asked, with the same small voice from minutes before when she woke up “Aren’t you coming with us?”

He wouldn’t. He knew it from the beginning, of course, and Chiron also knew it. The pain in his chest, however, was unknown.

Ares told her no, and he bit the inside of his cheek when he saw sadness invading her gaze. She ran up to him, raising her arms up again, reaching for him with tears in her eyes. She was all alone, and he was abandoning her as well.

Chiron looked away, his heart breaking silently for the young demigod, while Ares stood there, conflicted by his feelings (those damn feelings he couldn’t handle).

“Listen kid” Emily still had her arms raised up, not budging, and he gave in, picking her up “You’re gonna stay here, you like it or not. Don’t go soft on me now”

Emily pouted at her dad, sniffling.

“But I want to stay with you”

“Yeah, but you can’t. You’ll stay here. That’s final”

She made a mad face at him (which made her look more like an angry kitten in his eyes, actually cute, but he wouldn’t admit that), frowning.

“You’re a meanie, Daddy”

There it was. She was starting to hate him too. Yep… All of them did.

“Sorry to break it to you, kid, but life isn’t fair”

He set her down, but she didn’t move, instead looking up at him with her big eyes. She looked like him, he noticed then, very much so in her way of staring at his face: she was fierce, but also vulnerable.

“Will you come visit me?”

Ares sighed, waving his hand as if to shrug it off.

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Maybe sometimes. Now go”

Emily sighed, mirroring him perfectly, and obeyed, going back to the centaur. She did look back at him one time before leaving, though, waving at him.

“Bye Daddy. Love you”

Ares felt that uncomfortable pressure in his chest as a response to her words, feeling like his insides tightened, constricted, twisted and turned all over. He watched her go in silence down the hill alongside Chiron, and he dared to take one last look at her before leaving for good, having completed his self-imposed task of taking his daughter to camp.

“Goodbye, little warrior”

Tough exterior be damned, Ares cared for his daughter.

In the quiet of the moment, where no one was watching him, being completely alone, he allowed himself to hope: He hoped she would be happy. He hoped she would be safe. He hoped she would forgive him for leaving her there.

And he also hoped he would someday be able to forgive himself for doing so too.

***

Taglist: @strawberryys-stuff @ladysybilchronicles

#percy pjo #percy jackson fanfiction #daughter of ares #ares #percy jackson #ares x reader #ares god of war #adam copeland #walker scobell #leah sava jeffries #annabeth chase #aryan simhadri #grover underwood #clarisse la rue #dior goodjohn #charlie bushnell #luke castellan #percy series

[b33zlebubz]

RIGOR MORTIS | CHAPTER SIX

SIMON RILEY X AFAB READER | 18+ MDNI | MASTERLIST | AO3 PREV CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER TAGS: reader uses she/her pronouns, fluff angst & eventual smut, blood violence & death, suicidal ideology, slow burn, enemies to lovers, forced proximity, toxic workplace environment, flashbacks “Abandoned in a battlefield with the one person you thought you would never see again; you're forced to come to terms with the ghosts of your past."

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 10TH 2016 NORWAY, 2100 HOURS

"You watch yourself, Riley.  Because the next bastard you work under ain't gonna be as forgiving of your attitude."

Was Walker's final biting comment as Simon stood in his office, towering over the other's desk with barely restrained frustration as his hands clench into fists.  He was being dismissed—a simple wave of the hand shooing off Simon's entire argument.  While normally, he was used to it, but when he knew that he was right—well—it was a different story.

He knew there was only so much he could do to defend you on your behalf.  He still had people to answer to, people whose opinions mattered more than his, and he knew that.  He could snap at every soldier who sent an unprofessional remark your way but, at the end of the day, if the captain did nothing about them—there was nothing Simon could do, either.

Your situation becomes much clearer over the course of the week as he starts to oversee drills and training.  You're struggling, that much is clear.  Your strength is lacking despite your rigid commitment to the job and although the torment from your peers spurs you on—your anger is explosive.  Fragile.  Prone to snapping, as the prick Captain who laughed when some Private tripped you would say.  Some humbling from the others would do you some good.

It's clear something happened before you went on leave; something that couldn't be so easily forgotten.  He swears he could recognize the signs trauma on anyone, nowadays, and perhaps the reason Simon was suddenly so hellbent on helping was because he saw himself in you.  

It took him ages to get back on his feet, after Roba—to fully dig himself out of the metaphorical and physical grave.  It took months to convince his handlers that he was fit to re-enlist to begin with, he couldn't imagine how it felt to be back on the field mere months after whatever happened to you—not that he knew what happened at all.  And yeah, maybe he was playing favorites.  Sue him.

He storms out of Walker's office without another word, and a few days later he's sitting at the bar; checking the time on his watch for what feels like the fifteenth time in twenty minutes.  

There's only one pub on the whole base.  It's relatively small compared to the ones he grew up with in Manchester; but the energy is the same.  Neon signs, grimy countertops, overpriced drinks and Slavic rock on the speakers—it feels almost adjacent to home.

Simon can't remember the last time he was stationed anywhere that was stable enough to have a bar, and he's sure the other soldiers around him probably think the same thing.  Still, it's early in the night, early enough that it's still relatively quiet so that you and him could speak in private. 

If you show up, that is.

He sits at the very end of the bar, away from other people as his eyes sweep the small, dark building.  He swirls a glass of whiskey in his hand, barely touched since he's sat down.  It isn't until the very second his watch ticks 2100 hours that the door opens again, and you step in.

It's different seeing you in civvies.  It gives Simon a glimpse of what you may be like outside the world of uniform camo and clipped professionalism—winter jacket swishing over a dark, fitted sweater and jeans as you shrug it off upon entering.  The bruises on your exposed collar have pretty much fully healed, Simon notes, as your gaze meets his from across the dimly lit room.  Your eyes flicker with an emotion he can't quite pinpoint before you cross the area to meet him, and Simon adjusts the jacket on his shoulders.

You slide in beside him with your brow furrowed before you talk in a low voice.  "What do you want?"

He smirks a little under his balaclava, smug with the fact that his little idea had worked—without the uniform, you were more open to talk without rank getting in the way.  "A conversation."

"With all due respect, Lieutenant, you couldn't have done that out on the shooting range?"

He raises an eyebrow.  "Would you have talked?"

Your mouth opens and then shuts again, left without a response.  You seem to realize, in that moment, his intentions; getting you somewhere you felt safe speaking.  Without the watchful eye of your superiors looming over your shoulder and without the difference in rank to shut you down.

"Thought so," he says, leaning an arm on the bar as he studies your indignant expression.  "Legend has it you got into a fight here."

You huff, rolling your eyes as you sit back in your seat.  "Walker's been running his mouth, huh?"

"Affirmative," he replies.  "But somethin' tells me there's more to you than just insubordination."

A moment passes where you just look at him.  Then, your eyes narrow, "you've read my record."

The edge of his lip ticks up in a slight smile, "fantastic observation, Angel."

You scowl at the nickname, and he realizes he likes this—getting a rise out of you.  Picking your brain to see what makes you tick.  Seeing what buttons he can press to slowly break down your thick wall of discipline, revealing the person underneath.

"Just cut to the chase, will you?"  You lean in a little, impatient.  "Why am I here?  You do realize what this looks like, right?"

That gets a low chuckle out of him.  "It looks like a concerned Lieutenant and his rowdy subordinate havin' a discussion, love.  That's all."

You raise an eyebrow at him.  "Over drinks?" 

He hums.  "Over drinks."

"People are gonna talk, sir."

"People wouldn't dare to," he reasons.  "Not about me, and not about you—if you hear me out."

Your tone hardens, stubborn.  "I don't need your tutoring."

"'Course you don't," he lifts his mask up to sit on the bridge of his twisted nose.  “I’m just curious…”

Not once do your eyes wander to his exposed jaw as he raises his glass to his lips.  With his off hand, he gestures to other soldiers across the bar—part of your regiment and just a couple of the many giving you trouble.  Your eyes flicker to them as he talks over your shoulder. 

"Today; that cunt tripped you," he says quietly, gesturing to the drunk Private at the very end.  "Why'd you let 'em?"

He watches your eyes darken on the group of soldiers at the other side of the bar as he drinks, and your hand on the table tightens.  You don’t answer, not verbally, and he doesn’t press—watching each small shift in your expression.  You swallow thickly.

"I don't know," you answer.

He raises an eyebrow, curious.  You're strong—strong enough to win against someone in a fist fight, obviously—so why did you do it?

He wants to ask, wants to pry and figure you out just like another problem that needs solving, but he knows better.  So he doesn't. 

“They can torment you all they want but as long as they don’t throw the first punch; the fight’s always gonna be your fault.”  he tells you lowly, eyes narrowing at you as you chew on the inside of your cheek in thought.  He places a hand on your shoulder and you tense, eyes shifting back to him.

“So let them throw the first punch, Angel," he tells you, gaze darkening.  "But don't let it land."

His words hang in the air for a moment, your expression resolute.  He watches the gears turn in your head; watches you mull over his advice.  Watches you study him as deep as you can through the mask and the leather and the cocky bravado.

Then, finally, you ask: "why?"

"Hm?"

"Why are you so interested in my progress?"  You press, brushing his hand away.  "I'm a complete stranger to you.  Never mind a lousy-ass soldier."

"You are far from lousy, Sergeant."

"But I'm not half of what I was, right now."

He hums in agreement.  Your question stirs something in him he can't quite explain.  He sees himself in you, obviously; sees the potential hidden behind anger and frustration.  Looking at your record tainted with bar fights and psych evaluations felt like looking in a mirror, in a lot of ways, and it struck something in him.  Something that drew him to you.

But, like most things, he shoves that feeling deep into the back of his mind, tacking his sudden interest in you to the simple fact that he knew you could be better with just a bit of encouragement.  Directing that anger of yours into work rather than a feud with your colleagues.  His mind wonders, for a moment, what you could've been like before whatever happened to you.  Were you just as fiery?  Less so?  More so?

"'Cause I've been there."

You raise an eyebrow at his answer, "been where?"

"Rock fuckin' bottom," he answers.  "There's nothin' else to do but dig your way back up, but it's damn hard to do so on your own…hm?"

For a moment, it looks as if you're about to argue—to deny his accusations.  He watches as you realize it's no use, that he's read your file and he watches you chew on your cheek as you glance away; ashamed, maybe.

Then, after a moment, you nod.

"Maybe…"  you sigh, rubbing the side of your neck sheepishly.  "Maybe I could use the extra help, yeah."

He hums.  Satisfied, he sits back again, dropping the subject for now now that you've agreed.  Instead, he picks up his glass and downs the rest of it before turning back to you.

"Good," he says.  "Now what can I get you to drink?"

@crazy-phan-girl13

#simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty #call of duty fanfiction #cod #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #call of duty modern warfare #ghost fanfiction #simon riley fanfic #ghost x reader #cod ghost #simon riley

[girlfailure-smut-hour]

Silk Ropes and Crackling Fire

Nsfw content MDNI

Characters: Lucifer X Fem!Reader

CW: Soft Bondage/Dom, Nipple play, Oral (Giving and receiving,) Penetration (Receiving,) Overstimulation, Hickeys. A little rough, but you can find romance in there. Some gendered language (Use of "good girl,") but ambiguous genitals as always.

A/N: I've been putting this one off for a while (like, over a month,) but it was a lot of fun! I don't know why I waited so long! Anyway I hope you enjoy it. It's basically all smut, no fluff so, yeah. Light BDSM sex with Lucifer ~2100 Words

Please check out my fic masterlist <3

The silk ropes dig lightly into your skin as your breath hitches. Though the room is lit only by the crackling fireplace, you can make out the beautiful face of Lucifer, as he adjusts his vest before sitting on the bed with you. He runs his gloved hands up your naked body and all the way to your hands to link fingers with you. In your excitement, you moan as your arms involuntarily jerk, tugging on the bedposts he tied your wrists to.

He smirks and chuckles lightly. He leans in, brushing your lips with his. The smell of his cologne overwhelms your senses. “You’ll be good for me tonight,” He whispers against your lips, “Right?” You nod. “You’ll be patient?” He asks. You nod again. “Good.”

Without unlinking your fingers, he kisses you. It’s intense like it always is with him. Deep and passionate in a possessive kind of way, with just the right amount of tongue. He kisses like he’ll lose you if he lets go.

He releases you from the kiss and looks at you with those burning eyes of his. It’s too intimidating to maintain so you look away, but he grabs you by the chin and turns your gaze back to him. He kisses you again briefly before pulling away and running his hands up and down your body with a desire and intensity that’s almost frightening. As he caresses your skin, you can’t help but squirm. He gently runs his fingers against the soft skin of your arms first, then moves down to your chest, but stays far from your nipples. His fingers trace a path down your ribs, then the side of your stomach, but stop there before circling around and following the same path they ran before.

Electric tingles run all down your spine, igniting an excitement down between your legs. You squirm and jerk against your restraints as he smirks. His smug satisfaction is hardly unexpected.

You’re already starting to get impatient, rubbing your legs together, even though you know he’s just getting started. He knows what he’s doing, but nonetheless he leans down and whispers in your ear. “You promised to be good.”

His chiding tone irks you, even as his cold breathy voice in your ear  sends shivers all through your body. You know that if you talk back he’ll only go harder on you so you just nod and hope that he accepts that.

Thankfully he does, kissing your cheek and making sure to breathe into your ear. He moves down to your neck, leaving soft, gentle little kisses at first, but gradually he starts suck on the skin. You can tell that he plans on leaving a few marks so that everyone knows who you belong to.

Moving further down, he places little kisses on your upper chest, then kisses down the middle to reach your tummy. Gradually he makes his way to your belly button. He stops here and starts to make his way back up your body “accidentally” brushing your nipple with his fingers on his way.

He kisses you on the lips again, inciting whiny little moans from you.

“What’s the matter?” He asks coyly.

“P-please,” You say, looking away, “I can’t take anymore.”

He runs a finger from your lower stomach all the way up your chest and to your face. Grabbing your chin he pulls your face harshly to meet his gaze. “You promised to be good. If you can’t behave,” He says cooly, “Then should I get up and leave you here? I’m a very busy man.” He’s nearly growling.

Your heart pounds as he starts to get up from the bed. “I’m sorry!” You say. “Please don’t go!”

He smirks. Of course he was never going to really leave, and you knew that, but it works nonetheless. He turns those intense burning eyes back on you and asks “Then can you behave?”

“I promise!” You say, nodding vigorously.

He sits back down on the bed looking up and down your body. He goes back to exactly where he was before. Kissing your cheek, then moving down your body as you shiver and writhe under him.

He doesn’t neglect your nipples this time, leaving a trail of soft kisses on his way. He wraps his lips around your nipple, flicking his tongue vigorously over it as he pinches the other gently between his finger and thumb. A gentle twist of his fingers and soft bite causes you to buck your hips involuntarily. He smirks moving on to your tummy and then your hip bones, which he spends plenty of time placing little kisses on.

He’s so close now that you can barely contain your excitement. Soft kisses lead him to your legs. He spends plenty of time there, cherishing every moan, whimper, and squirm. By the time he reaches your inner thighs you feel like you’re going to explode. You just want to beg him to go down on you already, but he’d just tease you more, or worse, get up to do paperwork and leave you to cool down.

You can feel his hair and face occasionally brush your genitals as he kisses back and forth on your thighs. Just when you’re about to beg him, you feel his lips suddenly touch down. You gasp and writhe as he wraps his arms around your thighs to get better control. His tongue feels heavenly as he flicks it against you and twirls it around. You want nothing more than to play with his soft, wavy locks as you press your thighs against his face. Having your hands tied up is agony, but you know he enjoys your frustration.

He pulls away for a second to spit on his fingers, which fills you with nervous anticipation. He rubs his fingers gently on you, before pressing them in. You gasp in pleasure, tugging at your restraints again to no avail. Intense as it is, it feels amazing as he curls his fingers up inside you, pressing against your walls to hit that delicate spot.

He moans as he goes down on you, sending vibrations through you and heightening the sensation. He had to know you wouldn’t last long with the way he teased you, and you’re already moaning louder and whinier as he fucks you with his fingers and runs his mouth up and down on you.

You’re writhing and moaning as he pushes you even farther until you scream out in pleasure, cumming on his tongue. Warm sweetness spills out as you squirm and moan. He pushes you even further as waves of pleasure spill over you.

“That’s enough,” You beg. “I already came.” It slurs out of you, your tongue already going dumb from pleasure.

He doesn’t stop though, continuing to press you even further until the overstimulation subsides and ordinary pleasure sets back in. It doesn’t take long for you to cum again. You let out one long moan as your back arches.

He finally pulls back, watching you pant and squirm. “Good girl,” He says. “You came twice for me.” He looks down on you with that look of smug satisfaction you’re so used to.

You just nod and try to catch your breath. He smirks at you as he leans over to untie your wrists. He helps you sit up on your knees, before taking your wrists and quickly tying them behind your back. Kneeling on the bed now, he unbuttons his pants and undoes the zipper revealing his hard cock. He puts a finger under your chin and turns your head up to meet his gaze. “Be a good girl and suck my cock.” He caresses your cheek as you lean over to lick the tip of his cock. He moans, finally getting to feel some pleasure himself.

You wrap your lips around the head, careful not to lose your balance with your arms tied behind your back. With his warm, stiff cock in your mouth you swirl your tongue around it, feeling it all. As you press down further, he sets his hand on the back of your head, pulling your hair out of the way in the process. He guides you with his hand, pushing down slightly until you wrap the base with your lips. He growls in pleasure as his cock rubs the back of your throat.

Feeling his entire length fill your mouth, you start to pull back, letting him guide your pace with his hand. You suck him down, making use of your tongue when you can. His strong hand on the back of your head presses you down occasionally, reminding you who’s in control. You can feel him getting close so he releases your hair and cups your cheek, bringing your eyes up to meet his.

“Good girl,” He says.

You smile at his praise. He gets up from the bed and sits behind you. He puts a hand on your back and lowers you gently so that you are laying face first on the bed, but still on your knees. With your arms still tied behind your back, you can’t hold yourself up. You’re at his mercy.

He runs his hands from your shoulders down to your ass, soaking in your body. He places one hand firmly on your waist, squeezing a little as he does, and grabs the silk rope around your wrists with the other. You feel his still-wet cock appear at your entrance.

As rough as he often is, he gives you time to adjust. Pressing in, he gives you a second with each inch to prepare for the next. You gasp in pleasure as you feel his legs meet your own, meaning his entire length is inside of you; your hole swallowing the base of his shaft. He squeezes your waist again, moaning as he reaches your depths. He starts to pull out, and as he pushes back in, you feel a tug at your shoulders as he pulls your tied wrists for more leverage.

He starts to fuck you faster, pulling you back by the wrists with each thrust. Each thrust is just a little faster, a little harder. “Luci!” You moan, “That feels so good.”

He just fucks you harder, the sounds of slapping skin interrupting the peaceful crackle of the fireplace. You feel his length sliding nearly all the way out before being plunged all the way back in to the hilt each time.

You’re already sensitive from cumming twice, so it takes little work to get you close. “I think I’m going to cum again,” You moan.

“Good girl,” Lucifer purrs from behind you, removing a hand from your waist to trail a finger delicately down your back. It pushes you over the edge and You convulse as you cum again, turning your face into the sheets so you can moan as loudly as you want.

He doesn’t stop though. Even after getting so close while pleasuring himself with your mouth, he keeps going, returning his hand to your waist so he can fuck you harder. He keeps pushing into you, getting faster. You notice too that his moans are getting louder and closer together. His growls turn into more vulnerable whimpers as he gets close.

“I’m going to cum,” He growls.

“Please cum inside me,” You moan, nearly whining.

He gives you three hard thrusts spaced further apart, making sure to push his cock all the way into you. You feel his cock start to throb inside of you, its twitches pushing against your walls. Hot cum spills out of it and into you. It pushes you over the edge, your shaking legs ready to give way. “I’m cumming,” you moan again before collapsing. You fall off of his cock, feeling his cum spill out of you slightly.

He’s still kneeling behind you, looking perfect in the dim light of the fireplace. He tosses his hair out of his face and zips his pants. Getting off the bed he unties your wrists and kisses you on the forehead. “What a good girl,” He coos. He picks you up in his strong arms and places you rightways on the bed, tucking you in before kissing your forehead again.

He disappears to the fireplace for only a second, returning with a mug of your favorite hot beverage. “Here, drink up,” He says softly as he hands you the drink.

You smile and say, “Thank you Luci.”

“Anything for my princess,” He replies.

As much work as he probably needs to get to, he strips down and lays in bed to cuddle with you as you sip your drink. He presses his warm naked body against you as you slowly drift off.

#obey me smut #obey me Lucifer X Reader #obey me Lucifer smut #Lucifer smut #obey me #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me x reader #om! Lucifer #obey me Lucifer #Lucifer x reader #obey me nightbringer #obey me nb

[desert-fern]

A Gun Amongst Daggers - Jake “Hangman” Seresin X Fem!Navy Seal Reader

Part 5: Flyboy On My Mind

Summary: When Jake meets a woman at the Hard Deck, the last thing he expects is for her to be a Navy Seal. And not just any Seal, the Commander of Seal Team 3. She’s beautiful, smart, dangerous, and everything about her just makes him want to get close. Her name? Bear. When the Seals need backup, Cyclone puts the Daggers on their radar and now, Jake has to work with Bear and her team, all the while trying to stay professional. Can he do it? Or will he end up falling for the Navy sniper and mission Commander?

MINORS DO NOT ENGAGE! 18+ ONLY. MINORS & BLOGS WITH NO AGE/EMPTY BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED.

Warnings: swearing, mentions of death (it’s a training exercise, so not really), guns of the paintball variety, 'hostage taking' (Please let me know if I missed anything!)

Word Count: 2.8k

For reference, 2100 is 9 pm to all of you who don't know or use 24 hour time.

Read on Wattpad or AO3

Masterlist >> Part 4 >> Part 6

===

Because Bear was nice, she gave her people the day to complete the intel searches and paperwork that was necessary for the mission. But she didn’t account for the Dagger pilots catching up to them and spending the next hour chatting and exchanging stories. “Bear, you good?” Bug asked, nudging her Commander in the side. 

“Hmmm? Oh yeah, I’m fine,” Bear said, checking her watch. “Just keeping an eye on the time. We have dark training tonight, so I hope that y’all get to your paperwork soon.” She shared a grin with her second, knowing full well how shitty late night dark training could get. 

“Aww come on Bear!” Hangman’s complaint rose above the din of the group. “Let them have some fun.” 

The woman just raised an eyebrow before replying. “Last time I checked, you pilots had paperwork too. Or did you forget?” There was a playful edge to her voice, one that teased yet still commanded. 

“We do, but Mav gave us the day to finish it,” Fanboy chimed in, peeking around Coyote to be seen and heard. 

“Mav also gave permission for you to help us in a few drills over the next few weeks. Ones that require your active participation.” 

A groan rose from the pilots, interweaving with the snickers from her Seals. It made her smile, watching her team get along with the pilots. And if she was being honest, the view wasn’t terrible. The sunlight glinted off of muscular, toned arms and shoulders, and if she was being honest, one pilot was set apart from the others. The light turned his blond hair into something resembling spun gold, green eyes hidden behind sunglasses that had slid down his nose. The man had a reason to be cocky, Bear thought as she stood and observed. But this was not the time, nor the place for that. “Team 3, say your goodbyes. We will see the pilots tonight, at 2100,” she spoke, eyes glinting in amusement behind her own sunglasses. 

Hangman maintained his eye contact with the Seal Team Commander. He’d caught her staring and shot her a wink in response. All the response he received came from a crooked smirk and the woman uncrossing her arms to usher her team away. “Damn…” he muttered as he followed her retreating figure. 

“Like what you see?” Coyote teased, clapping his friend on the back. “You might have a staring problem.” 

Jake huffed. “Can you blame me? Look at her.” 

Phoenix cleared her throat, making Jake freeze. “Really? This woman just handled a meeting like a fucking boss, has excellent control over her team, but is also extremely fair and is genuinely a decent person. And your dumbass is like ‘she’s hot’?” The woman in front of him shook her head in disappointment. “You’re lucky that I found my forever girl, otherwise you’d have some serious competition, Bagman.” 

Bear wasn’t quite out of earshot when Phoenix tore into Hangman, making her snicker. “Take them to the room we’re usually in, Bug. I have a flyboy to straighten out,” she remarked with a mischievous grin.

Her second mirrored the grin. “Sounds good, Bear. Be gentle with his ego.” 

Bear turned to walk back towards the group. “Whoever snagged you is a very lucky woman, Phoenix,” she said once she’d gotten close. 

“Shit…” Hangman exhaled, making Rooster laugh. 

“You're screwed, man,” the older man said with a chuckle. “Bear.” 

“Rooster, give me a moment with him?” 

Glancing at his friend, Rooster gave her a knowing smirk before walking off to rejoin his group, each of them stealing quick glances in her direction, amusement dancing in their eyes. 

“You know,” Bear began. “I don’t mind you looking, but I’ll be damned if my ass is my best quality.” She knew that the look on her face was teasing, but Jake still looked chastised. 

“Well then, Teddy. You should know that it isn’t just your ass,” Jake flirted back. But it was a lot less self-assured than usual. 

A smile crossed her lips. “Oh yeah? Like what?” 

“I don’t think we have enough time for that, sweetheart.” 

“Careful there, Jake. Can’t have someone overhearing you, especially since I outrank you and I’m in charge of our mission,” came her playful reply. But under her sunglasses, her cheeks and ears had flushed pink at his words. 

Jake’s face heated at her words. She never used his name, always his call sign or rank, so it felt like a step in the right direction. “Well you know where to find me when all is said and done.” With one final wink and appreciative glance, he turned and walked back to the group. Jake could feel her eyes burning holes between his shoulders, before she finally walked off. 

“Smooth bastard,” Bear mumbled as she followed after her team. “Making me feel things.” Her blush must have still been present when she walked into the room because a few chuckles sounded upon her entrance. 

“All good, boss lady?” FAK asked. They had a mischievous look in their eyes and from experience, Bear knew that that was just begging for teasing. “You’re looking a little pink there.” 

Bear shrugged. “It’s warm outside. What can I-” 

“You done eye-fucking the walking Ken doll?” Hazard spat, cutting her off. The man looked thoroughly put out by the whole situation. 

Her stare had him backing down pretty quickly. “Watch your tone, Lieutenant. I am your superior, so you would do well to get over whatever prejudice you hold around women in charge. And who I, as you said, eye-fuck is none of your business.” The edge in her tone left no room for argument and the air had quickly become suffocating as Hazard stalked back to his seat, glowering at the floor.

Hazard grumbled something about women and incompetence before Fireball reached over and slapped the back of his head. 

“Well then. That took a turn,” Bear remarked casually. “Finish up the forms, and Flare, send out that message to your contacts for that data, and you all can have the rest of the day to do whatever you need to. I need you back and dressed for night ops training at 2100, sound good?” 

“Yes Ma’am.” 

“Great. Get to work, I’ll be in my office if there are any questions or concerns.” With one final glance around the room, Bear left, shutting the door behind her. Walking down the hall, she had a chance to ponder Hangman’s words. You know where to find me echoed through her head, making her curse silently. That smooth fucker practically had her tripping over her own tongue whenever he was close. It was only thanks to the Bear personna that she had cultivated over her years in service that allowed her to flirt and tease back with minimal blushing. She sat down with a groan, burying her face in her hands as she thought about the mountain of papers to sift through. Guess there was no time like the present to get started. 

===

It was some time later that a knock sounded at her door. Glancing up from her papers, Bear checked her watch before calling out “Come in!” 

“Commander, I was hoping to go over a few things before night training tonight. Just so my people know what to expect,” Maverick said. 

“Of course, take a seat,” Bear gestured at one of the chairs by her desk. “What did you want to know?” 

Maverick nodded. “Just whatever you can tell me. I’ve had nonstop questions all afternoon and didn’t want to send them to harass you. All I said was that you would explain it to them tonight.” 

Bear chuckled “No worries at all, Maverick. It’s a hostage rescue scenario just to test the skills my people already have, basically a refresher course.” She gestured at the stack of folders on her desk before continuing “They will get more difficult as time goes on, but your pilots will likely be hostages or maybe poorly trained enemy forces, it really depends. If I decide on the latter, I will come and meet with your people and give them very basic weapons training.” 

“Are actual weapons being used for this?” 

“Oh god no. Sorry, I should have made that clear,” Bear replied hastily. “We basically have these retrofitted paintball guns that look like our service weapons to use in these exercises. The worst injury you can get from one of those is a gnarly bruise.” 

“Okay good. I was worried. I really don’t need Hangman or any of them really being weapons trained,” the pilot laughed. 

Bear gave him a grin. “That is a legitimate concern of mine too. I just won’t tell them that the skills are applicable to real weapons.” 

“Please don’t. Oh, and do they need to be in uniform?” 

“Nope, civilian clothes will work. Just make sure that they are comfortable and easy to move in.”

Maverick glanced around the office almost suspiciously before stage-whispering “Don’t tell anyone I said this, but thank fuck.”

She laughed. “Is there anything else I can do for you?” 

“I think we’re good to go,” came his response. “I will see you and your team at 2100.” 

“So you will. See you then.” 

He slipped out the door leaving her to the quiet office. It was nearing 1800 and she still hadn’t eaten, so she figured that taking a quick break wouldn’t hurt. 

Stretching as she stood, Bear grabbed her phone, wallet, and keys before leaving, locking the door behind her. The air was still warm when she ventured outside, the setting sun coloring the sky a beautiful orange that bathed the base in swaths of the color. 

The mess hall was quiet. Only a few stragglers remained on base, she noted. It took her no time to grab something to eat and she settled herself at the table in the far corner of the room. Bear hadn’t been there long before a loud clatter rang out, shattering the bubble of stillness she had been reveling in. 

Jolting up, Bear glanced over to watch a new recruit pick up the cutlery that had hit the ground. Willing her heart to slow its frantic beating, she went back to her food. 

Time slowly ticked by and eventually Bear realized that she had to get going, much to her chagrin. The peace had been nice, but she had a warehouse to arrange and equipment to locate. 

===

2100 came quickly. Night had fallen and only a little residual light cast a haze over the warehouse. Dressed in full tactical gear, Bear stood outside the large warehouse they used for indoor raids. Most of her team had arrived, all dressed identically to her in a deep dark blue gear, helmets tucked under arms as they stood and chatted. “Bear!” 

Turning towards the voice, she saw Bob and Flare leading the group of pilots over. They had all dressed in loose fitting, comfortable clothing, making it look like they were ready for bed. “Bob. Daggers. Welcome to your first night exercise,” she said with a grin. “You’re right on time, I was just about to start the explanation for tonight’s proceedings.” 

“Awesome. Glad we didn’t miss it,” Phoenix replied. She was excited for this, ready to see her friend in her element. “Been looking forward to this all day, haven’t we boys?” 

“Hell yeah.” 

“Totally.” 

“Damn straight.” 

“Great. Let’s get into it.” Bear clapped her hands and waited for the pilots to approach. “My people, same teams as last week. Platoons three and four are our hostage takers, the red team. Which makes everyone left to make up our blue team. Pilots, you guys have the honor of playing our hostages. Make sure you grab a vest before heading in there,” she told them, pointing at the pile of vests by her feet. “Hostages, hostage takers, head on in. Check your scenario, make sure you know how this plays out. Daggers, there are cards inside that have ages and certain characteristics that you need to remember. Once you have everything, fasten the card to the vest. I’ll be by in a second. Does that sound good to everyone?” 

“Yes Ma’am.” 

 “Red team, take your prisoners away,” Bear announced with a broad smile. Hangman had a stupid grin on his face, clearly loving the opportunity to get this close to Bear, seeing how she worked. 

Once the group had disappeared inside the building, Bear turned to the remaining platoons. “Alright. You know the drill. Bottom to top. Stick together. Two strategy attempts this round. No heroes, and no killing hostages. The goal here is to get everyone out alive, you know, the usual. I follow Bug’s lead. I know what has to happen, and therefore I make no calls, I follow what she has,” she informed them, glancing around at their faces. “You have until I come back to make a plan.” 

Bear pivoted on her heel and strode into the building, weaving through the maze set up inside to reach the open space on the topmost floor in the makeshift layout. “Flare! You ready?” 

“Hell yeah!” The woman yelled back, head poking out around the corner to watch her Commander approach. “You finally let me be the mean one, not Shrike.” 

“I did, so don’t abuse your power,” Bear laughed. Flare had always had a dramatic personality. It didn’t show much, but when given a role during the exercises, she always made it work. “Or else I’m giving it back to her.” 

Flare let out a feigned gasp. “You wouldn’t.” 

“Oh I would and you know it,” Bear retorted. “Is your team confident with your method?” 

“Yep. We got this.” 

“Great. Let me check in on the ‘hostages’,” Bear told her, throwing air quotes around the last word for emphasis. “Gotta make sure everything is all good on their end.” 

“No worries, boss lady. We tucked them through there,” Flare told her, pointing at the small opening in the corner of the room. 

“Maverick, you guys have yourselves sorted in there?” She called out. 

Silence. Then a small “maybe” sounded making her snort. 

“I’m coming in.” The sight made her laugh and turn away for a moment. All 13 of the pilots were crammed in the tight space, forcing Fanboy to be sprawled on top of his teammates. “Okay. I guess I thought some of you were smaller than you actually are.” 

“Yeah, there is definitely no room in here,” Rooster replied, gesturing with his head as his hands, which, like everyone else’s, were tied loosely in front of him. 

Bear hummed in amusement, crouching down to peer at them. “Before we get started, do you guys have any questions?” 

“Ummm yeah I have one. Why are we tied up?” It was too dark to make out the speaker, but it sounded like Payback. 

“Because you guys are playing your roles, and also you are not allowed to fight back. The bonds make sure of that,” Bear answered honestly. “It’s for your safety as well as ours.” 

Hangman, who was settled right next to the opening where Bear was crouching, spoke up. “You sure it isn’t just because you don’t want to get hurt?” He was looking at her face, but his gaze wandered down, down, down to her legs and how her tac pants were pulled taut across her muscular thighs. His eyes fell to her sidearm holstered to her leg, giving the impression and warning that she was far more dangerous than she appeared. If he wasn’t already turned on seeing Bear in her gear, the gun definitely did it. It finally made sense to him why women (and some men, let’s be honest) were all over the uniform, because if he looked even close to a fraction as hot as she did, it was a miracle any thought happened at all. 

“Watch the ego, Flyboy. Mouthing off might not be the best idea in this scenario. Flare gets to be mean, and she may or may not… react strongly,” Bear chided, but her face split into a grin. She caught his appreciative gaze, especially noting his fixation on her thighs and it made that small part of her brain start whooping and hollering at the fact that Jake had noticed her. 

Phoenix called out from the back of the room “What did the tactic thing on the back of the card mean?” 

“Oh, right. That’s the communication tactic that the rescue team needs to use in order to gain your trust and get you out safely. Some of them should say things like ‘proof of affiliation’, which just means proving who they say they are. Or they might say ‘female interaction only’, that one is self-explanatory. Does that clear it up?” 

“Yep.” 

“Great. I did forget to mention that you guys are allowed to talk quietly, and that live video of our movements will be played on the wall here for you guys to see. Was there anything else before we got started?” Bear asked one final time, standing up to lean against the entryway. “No? Awesome.” The woman gave them a wide smile, so very unlike the demeanor she used when first interacting with Hangman only days earlier. 

He was in for a real treat.

===

A/N: I decided to give you all a treat! Thanks again to @startrekfangirl2233 @sarahsmi13s and @dakotakazansky for giving me your feedback!

Any errors are mine though 😂

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[roosterforme]

The Gray Sweatpants | Rooster x Reader

Summary: For you and Bradley, sharing a home comes easily. He is always willing to put in the extra work to make you happy, and he will do it wearing his gray sweatpants and a smile.

Warnings: Fluff and smut

Length: 2100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots! (But it can be read on its own) Check my masterlist in my profile for the reading order! Based on a request.

Living with you was an interesting change of pace for Bradley. He had gotten so used to tiny living quarters and never sharing anything. But now you were here in this big house, along with all of your colorful stuff, and your perfume, and your kitchen gadgets. And you wanted to share everything with him. 

Not a day went by that you weren't wearing his clothing and using his shaving cream in the shower. And you always offered to share your food with him, holding up a sandwich or forkful of food for him to take a bite. You always seemed to be around asking about his day and giving him all of the details of yours, delivered with your own brand of wit and humor that never failed to have him wrapping his arms around you. 

It was one of the first Friday nights after you moved into his house, and now it was your house, too. Every time he got to use the word "ours", it made him happy in a way he couldn't really explain. 

"I was thinking we should plant a garden in the backyard," you said, feeding Bradley a bite of your dinner from your perch on his lap. You were wearing one of his Top Gun shirts and nothing else, and Bradley couldn't imagine living here without you. "I mean, San Diego kind of sucks for flowers, but we're hardy east coast people. We should have a garden."

"We would have no street cred if we didn't have sad, dying, east coast people flowers," he replied, delighting in the sound of your laughter. 

"Exactly! Plus, the backyard is a little scary, Roo. I'll help you clean it up on Sunday, if you want."

"Sure, Baby Girl. We'll see."

But he had something else in mind now.

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

You woke up on Saturday morning to an empty bed and groaned. Bradley knew you had particular rules concerning him staying in bed with you on Saturday mornings. And you expected a certain level of compliance. 

"Bradley?" you called as you stumbled into the kitchen where you found him brewing coffee and eating some toast in just his gray sweatpants.

"Morning, Sweetheart," he rasped, but your mouth had gone dry. You must still be in bed, asleep and dreaming. That was the only way this would make sense.

You made a soft, strangled sound as Bradley reached up into the cabinet and grabbed your favorite mug. "Want some coffee?"

"Bradley," you whispered. He wasn't even wearing any underwear. You could see the outline of his cock pressing against the soft fabric as the pants hung low on his hips. 

You were taking a step closer to him, ready to drop to your knees when he said, "You'll be late for brunch with Cam and Maria if you don't leave soon." You had completely forgotten about your plans.

Your eyes slid up his naked torso until they met his smirking face. "Why are you not wearing underwear?"

He suddenly looked embarrassed, cheeks flushing pink. "I actually need you to show me how to use the washing machine. I'm almost out of clean clothes. Can you show me after brunch?"

You glanced at the clock on the microwave and sighed. You didn't even have time to properly blow your boyfriend like you wanted to. "Yeah, I'll show you after I get home, Roo," you whispered, running your fingers along his length through his pants.

"Oh fuck," he grunted when you cupped him and squeezed softly. He pressed you against the edge of the counter, and you could feel him getting hard for you. 

But you just stuck your chin in the air. "Next Saturday, make sure you stay in bed with me longer." You ducked out of his grasp with a grin while he groaned your name. "Oh, and I don't want to be late for brunch."

You got ready to go out, and when you passed him in the kitchen before you left, he was eating more toast and glaring at you. 

"You gonna come back and take care of this later?" he grunted, gesturing to his semi.

"Sure, Roo. Right after we do your laundry," you said with a wink. He just grunted in response before you added, "And make sure you don't go out in those pants. They are indecent!"

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

As soon as you were gone, Bradley thought about jerking off, but he knew he had a limited amount of time before you would be home again. So he quickly put his old sneakers on along with his aviators and traipsed out through the sliding glass door to the backyard. You weren't wrong; it was in pretty rough shape.

Bradley kicked over a faded lawn gnome and opened up the shed. He pulled out some shovels and a rake that the previous owners had left, and he got to work. An hour later, he was shocked to find that there was in fact a garden bed buried back along the privacy fence. He dug up dead plants and weird lawn ornaments, tossing everything off to the side to get taken out with the trash. 

He stopped working for a minute to wipe the sweat from his brow. The sun was strong even for early December, but at least it wasn't too hot outside. And now, as he looked around, Bradley was pleased to see that the whole space looked a lot better. His girlfriend wanted a garden? Well then she would get one.

"Roo?" you called from the sliding glass door. You were grinning and heading his way with a cold water bottle. "What are you doing?"

He took the drink from your hand and downed the entire thing before he answered you. "Making the yard nicer for you. Check it out. A garden bed."

But you weren't really looking at the yard as much as you were looking at him. You wrapped your arms around his sweaty torso and kissed him. "You're so sweet."

He grinned down at you but didn't dare touch, not wanting to get your cute dress all dirty. "We can go to the nursery tomorrow and pick out some flowers if you want. We can plant them...." His word trailed off as you bit your lip and slipped your hand inside the front of his sweatpants. 

"I've been thinking about this since I left for brunch." Your voice was soft and breathless as your fingers teased his length before you wrapped your small hand around his cock. "Been thinking about these gray sweatpants."

Bradley let you ease the fabric down until he was fully exposed. You were licking your lips and moaning softly. He knew exactly what that meant.

"God damn it," he groaned as you dropped to your knees on the grass in front of him. He was standing in the center of the yard, looking around to see if there was any way one of the neighbors could see what was going on. But when you kissed and licked away his precum before parting your lips and taking his tip, he decided he didn't care. 

Bradley reached one big palm to the back of your head and guided you along. You took him a little deeper, looking up at him as your mouth filled up with each inch of him until your lip was brushing his coarse hairs. You gagged a bit, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked on him. "You're such a good girl. I'll give you anything you want."

You moaned around him, your tongue swirling along the underside of his entire length until you pulled him out to the tip. You kissed him sweetly and softly asked, "You know what I want, Roo?"

Bradley shook his head a little bit, dazed as you let his cock rest against your plush tongue. He was panting now and twitching as your hot breath teased his dick. 

"You tell me what you want, and I'll give it to you."

You giggled and smiled up at him with half lidded eyes as your tongue caressed him. You kissed his swollen tip and nuzzled him with your nose before you said, "I want you to fuck me. Right here. In our backyard."

Bradley hauled you to your feet by grabbing your elbows. You squealed with delight, but he hushed you with one hand over your mouth. "I'll give you what you want, but you have to behave. You want our elderly neighbors calling the cops, because they think I'm back here trying to murder you?"

You groaned and licked Bradley's palm, gripping his cock with both hands. "Please, Bradley. Please make it so good that it sounds like that!"

His hand drifted down to your neck, and he led you to the side of the shed, stroking your soft skin as you practically purred for him. His hard dick bounced along, hanging out over his sweatpants as he backed you up against the small building. "Okay."

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

You were so turned on for him, and you blamed it all on his sweatpants. He had no idea what he was capable of in those things. But without underwear? Bradley Bradshaw should have been illegal. 

And now he had your back pinned against the shed with his huge hand on your neck while he reached into your underwear and started to finger you. 

"Oh," you gasped, admiring the way his aviators were sliding down his nose while you rode his middle finger. The pressure on your throat wasn't enough to hurt, but it was enough to make you feel like you were no longer in charge here. And that feeling excited you. 

Bradley's thumb stroked your clit, and you cried out for him. "Shh, be a good girl," he whispered, kissing your lips one time while his middle finger pressed forward on your most sensitive spot. When you whimpered, he kissed your forehead and said, "Yeah, nice and quiet, Baby Girl. Show me how good you can be."

You kept your little noises as quiet as you could, moving your hips in time with his thumb stroking you. When you were close, Bradley slipped his finger out of you, leaving you whining his name. He spun you to face the shed, yanking your underwear down so the lace brushed along your legs before they hit the ground. You planted both of your palms against the siding as Bradley pulled your dress up to your waist, fully exposing you to any neighbor who could have potentially been a little too nosy. 

"Oh my god," you groaned as Bradley planted his left hand above yours and guided himself inside you with the other. 

"You're so fucking wet." His voice was deep and needy as he fucked you, placing his hand on your pussy. He let you rub yourself against him as he bumped you along with his thrusts. 

"Bradley." The second syllable was much louder than the first, your voice rising in pitch with pleasure. "Fuck!"

"Shh," he scolded once more. "Quiet, or I'll stop."

It was an empty threat, you were sure of it. He must be beyond the point of no return, but just in case, you covered your own mouth with your hand. He had you pinned tight between his pelvis and his palm, grinding against your butt, and holding you in place.

The beautiful friction of his palm had you clenching and cumming as your orgasm washed over you suddenly. "It's so good," you whined, needing both hands on the shed to keep yourself upright. "You're so good, Roo."

The string of obscenities he muttered next to your ear were nowhere near as filthy as his cock slamming into you and filling you with his cum. He used your pussy to drain him of every last drop as you pulsed around him, and when he withdrew, you felt your thighs get coated with his mess.

You spun around to face him, eyes wide. "I can't believe you fucked me in the backyard." Your eyes dipped down to his cock, softening and dripping your mixed ejaculate all over those gray sweatpants. 

He tipped your chin up and looked at you over the top of his aviators. "You tell me you want something, I'm going to give it to you. Especially if it's my cock."

You grinned and kissed him before adjusting his sunglasses. "Let's go inside. We have even more laundry to do now." You tucked him back inside his sweatpants before stepping out of your underwear. "Don't forget those," you said, pointing to the scrap of lace in the grass.

You watched Bradley bend down and pick them up, bringing them up to his nose with a grunt as he followed you inside.

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I hope you enjoyed Rooster's gray sweatpants @thedroneranger

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