#I'm on my knees for you Valeria please

[ghouljams]

Idea spinning in my brain like a rotisserie chicken.

Fae are deal makers and debt takers yes?

For your consideration. For the people.

~Valeria~

You sit at her feet, eyes half lidded as her fingers comb through your hair, scratching lightly. You occupy her hands with something other than a weapon, and you're all too happy to do it. You rest your head against her knee, drawing an acknowledging hum from the woman above you.

"Your pet have to be here?" The court dickhead asks, it's an innocent question, or it would be if it were anyone else.

"They go where I do," Valeria tells him easily, "Don't worry, they aren't listening." You nod against her knee, and her fingers leave your hair to snap next to your ear. The sound rings, bouncing around your head unpleasantly, before her fingers soothe over your furrowed brow and everything goes silent.

Not that you mind. You've never cared much for the court. As Valeria has said, they don't care for you, why should you care for them. Still, they make a lot of house calls. Someone is always eager for a favor from El Sin Nombre, especially the dickheads that think they're holding all the cards.

You run your tongue along the back of your teeth, eyes focusing on the fae across from you. The increasingly nervous shifting. The way they move their hands with more enthusiasm. The lines around their mouth, the harsh pull of Valeria's fingers in your hair.

No, it's not your job to care about court politics. You only job is to attack when Valeria snaps her fingers to bring you back into the conversation.

"I think we're done here," Her voice rings clear through the room as your teeth tear through the other fae's jugular.

#I'm so gay #I'm on my knees for you Valeria please #valeria cod #valeria x reader #fae!Valeria #I think I mentioned ages ago that I would be down to write for valeria #that she'd be good in the fae au for these exact reasons #congratulations to her darling attack dog that is at her feet where I want to be #move bitch I'm about to get it #is immediately eviscerated #el sin nombre #valeria garza

[octopiys]

Some incorrect quotes and scenes for the pies

Roach: *Screams*

Ghost: *Screams louder to establish dominance*

Capt. MacTavish: Should we do something?

Capt. Price: No, I want to see who wins.

-

Alejandro: You lying, cheating, piece of shit!

Valeria: Oh yeah? You’re the idiot who thinks you can get away with everything you do. WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD

Alejandro: I’m leaving you, and I’M TAKING RODOLFO WITH ME

Rodolfo, picking up the monopoly board: I think we’re gonna stop playing now.

Price: You know, not every problem can be solved with a knife.

Ghost: That's why I carry two knives.

-

Soap: I made tea.

Ghost: I don’t want tea.

Soap: ....I did not make tea for you. This is my tea.

Ghost: Then why are you telling me?

Soap: It is a conversation starter.

Ghost: That’s a lousy conversation starter.

Soap: Oh, is it? We are conversing. Checkmate.

-

Gaz: Is letting someone win at chess sapiosexual bottoming

Price, putting his head in his hands: Does anyone in this goddamn team ever think before they speak-

-

Graves: Must be hard not being able to laugh

Alejandro: I do have a sense of humor you know

Graves: I’ve never heard you laugh before

Alejandro: I’ve never heard you say anything funny

Graves:

Graves: fuck you

Alejandro: fuck you

-

Soap, motioning to a Halloween display: All these ghosts! All these ghosts! I still can’t find a boo.

Ghost:

Ghost: is it because I said I didn't want your tea-

Soap: YES ITS BECAUSE YOU SAID YOU DIDNT WANT MY TEA

-

Ghost: Schrödinger’s cat is overrated. If you wanna see something that’s both dead and alive you can talk to me any time of the day.

Gaz, just finding out that Ghost is legally dead:

-

Gaz: Why isn’t the statue smirking at me?

Price: It isn’t smirking at anyone, they’re all just imagining it.

Soap: Three of us saw it, Cap. How do you explain that?

Price: *points at Soap* Sleep deprivation. *points at König* Paranoia. *points at Ghost* Delusional personality disorder.

Gaz:

Gaz: damn.

-

Roze: What’s something you guys are better than Horangi at?

Hutch: Mario Kart.

O'Conor: Yeah, video games.

König: Emotional vulnerability

-

Graves: *Gets down on one knee*

Alejandro: Oh my god, it’s finally happening.

Graves: *Falls over*

Alejandro: The poison is kicking in.

-

Gaz, after falling out of a heli for the third time: Do you take constructive criticism?

Nikolai: I only take cash or credit.

-

Soap: Can you keep a secret?

Ghost: Do you know anything about my life?

Soap: No I do not. Good point.

-

Gaz: Hey heads up if you try to make a candle with food coloring, the food coloring will just sink to the bottom of the glass, and when the flame eventually reaches the bottom all the food coloring will catch fire and become one giant tall flame that you cannot possibly blow out and the glass will start to crack and then you'll throw your tea on it in a panic and then the extremely hot food coloring will boil and sizzle horribly and then the glass will shatter. Please take my word on this haha-

Roach: What did you-?

Gaz: A MISTAKE WAS MADE

-

-

I just wanna say thank you all sm for 300 followers! You all r loved and I'm not good with responses but I appreciate them all so muck, thank u again :DDDDD

#call of duty #cod mw2 #modern warfare 2 #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghostsoap #incorrect quotes #captain john price #alejandro vargas #alerudy #rodolfo parra #kyle gaz garrick #gary roach sanderson #könig modern warfare #horangi #nikolai cod #phillip graves #valeria garza

[victoryverse]

can I please have some dom valeria content w lots of degrading, brat taming, and just, filth 😕🫶🫶

Valeria smirked as she watched you squirm under her intense gaze. You were her latest conquest, a bratty sub who needed to be put in their place. And Valeria was more than happy to do the honors.

She sauntered towards you, her hips swaying with each step, her heels clicking against the floor. You couldn't help but feel a little intimidated by her, but also incredibly turned on.

'Kneel, pet,' Valeria commanded, her voice dripping with dominance. You eagerly dropped to your knees, eyes trained on her as she circled around you. 'You're just a little slut, aren't you? Aching for my touch, desperate for my approval.'

You nodded, unable to form any words as Valeria reached down to cup your chin, tilting your head up so you were forced to meet her piercing gaze.

'You're going to be a good little slut for me, aren't you?' she purred, running her thumb over your bottom lip. 'You're going to do exactly as I say, without question.'

You nodded again, feeling a rush of excitement and submission coursing through your body. Valeria's dominant energy was intoxicating, and you couldn't wait to see what she had in store for you.

'Good girl,' Valeria praised, before yanking your hair back sharply. 'But you're still a brat, and I'm going to have to tame you.'

With that, she pushed you down onto your hands and knees, her hand gripping your hair tightly as she positioned herself behind you. You could feel her heat radiating against your back, and you let out a low moan as she ran her hands over your ass.

'You're mine now,' Valeria growled, before delivering a sharp slap to your ass. 'And I'm going to fuck you until you can't even remember your own name.'

You whimpered as she pulled your panties down, her hand rubbing your wetness before she plunged two fingers inside you. She set a punishing pace, driving them in and out of you as she whispered degrading words in your ear.

'You're just a little slut, taking whatever I give you,' she hissed, her fingers curling inside you and hitting that sweet spot that made you see stars. 'You love being used, don't you? You love being my dirty little plaything.'

You could only nod in response, unable to form coherent thoughts as Valeria continued to pound into you with her fingers. She was relentless, driving you closer and closer to the edge until you were begging for release.

'Please, Valeria,' you moaned, feeling like you were about to explode.

But Valeria wasn't done with you yet. She pulled her fingers out, leaving you feeling empty and desperate, before flipping you over onto your back. Without missing a beat, she entered you with her strap-on, the size and girth of it taking your breath away.

She set a brutal pace, her hips slamming into yours as she fucked you into oblivion. And all the while, she whispered filthy words in your ear, reminding you of your place and how good it felt to be completely owned by her.

You could feel your orgasm building, and Valeria must have sensed it too because she leaned down and whispered in your ear, 'Come for me, slut. Show me how much you love being my little toy.'

With that final command, you let go, your body shaking as you came hard around her. Valeria continued to thrust into you, drawing out your orgasm until you were a quivering mess beneath her.

When she finally pulled out, you were completely spent and utterly satisfied. Valeria pulled you into her arms, kissing you deeply and whispering praises in your ear.

'You were such a good girl for me,' she cooed, stroking your hair. 'But don't forget, you're mine now. And I'm going to keep fucking you until you can't even remember your own name.'

. . .

let me know if you want a longer, more detailed version!!!!

#call of duty x reader #call of duty smut #cod smut #call of duty #cod #cod fanfic #cod x reader #valeria garza #valeria cod #valeria mw2 #valeria x reader

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Character x Reader (Fluff) (Drabble)

(Alternative Angst Ending Included)

Context: You like giving/making trinkets to/for the love of your life (Character list below)

Links:

TLOU Masterlist

My rules for requests and characters I can write for

ꕥ HOPE YOU ENJOY! ꕥ

Disclaimers/warnings: Typical fandom things (read tags), OOC characters???, Unrealistic, Some suggestive themes and language, I'm so sorry but English is not my first language so please don't come after me. Most of the content I've seen are on TikTok and Tumblr I don't actually play the game but I love the characters so much, same with any other content I have for other video games.

Fluff:

You giving them a keychain or something of the sort and you think they clasp it on their belt loop or keep it in their pocket but that's actually not how they take it on missions with them because something from you is too valuable to actually be taken out like that where they could lose it.

Same thing goes if you make them jewelry, they think it's too fragile so instead they keep it back in their quarters/place underneath their pillow.

They pull out whatever trinket you gave them that meant a lot to you or you made yourself and they just stare at it reminding themselves that they have you. They hold it close to their heart as the found themselves finally able to sleep, still was difficult away from you.

With all the cruel and fucked up things they've seen in their life, you are by far the only light they have when they are stuck sulking in the darkness.

The one time you gave them a necklace, your favorite one and you begged them to bring it on missions because it was extremely sturdy and was in good condition after all.

They, in turn made a chain and clasped it on that so they can have it hanging by their belt loops so that enemies don't rip it off their neck. (The chain I'm describing are similar to the picture at the top but with chunkier and sturdier chains)

God forbid they actually lose or break something you gave them, they would cry or sulk because they know how much you value it and how your feelings would get hurt.

They were extremely surprised and relieved that you weren't mad at all at them because things like that just happen especially on missions. Instead of being mad, you gave/made them another one. They'll cherish it, that's for sure.

Angst ending below:

They swore to keep it with them to their graves and they did, the shouldn't have made that promise. It cemented their fate...

With their last breath, it was you they thought of. Apologies running through their head for being so weak that they know they're going to fail to come home to you.

Their cold body found in battle, tear and blood stained face while their eyes still open but no signs of life. In their fist was found of a memory of your love that kept them alive till then. The closed fist being held against their heart when they were found..

You couldn't help but fall to your knees, the world around you felt like it was spinning. Your lungs refuse to let you breathe along with the rest of you body betraying you, you choked out a sob. Clenching your hand against the pain in your chest withholding the item you gave them, only having realized that it returned into your hands once more...

Characters in mind:

Call of duty: John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra, Valeria Garza, Farah Karim, Kate Laswell, Alex Keller, König, Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin, Keegan P. Russ, Gary "Roach" Sanderson, Nikolai Belinski, Philip Graves.

Resident Evil: Leon Kennedy, Claire Redfield, Chris Redfield, Carlos Oliveira, Jill Valentine, Ada Wong.

The Last Of Us: Ellie Williams, Abby Anderson.

A/n: The amount of tags I used on this post is ridiculous, it was a fucking miracle that I managed to fit everything in. This was originally just supposed to be a fluff fic but my mind was wandering off and I thought of making a part 2 but that seems like too much work for a little paragraph so there

ꕥ I DO NOT GIVE CONSENT TO ANYONE WHO WILL TRANSLATE MY WORK AND POST IT OR POSTING IT IN OTHER SITES WITHOUT MY PERMISSION. ANYTHING LIKE INSPIRATION IS FINE, JUST TAG ME BECAUSE I'D LOVE TO SEE IT. THIS GOES TO ALL MY POSTS IN THE FUTURE AND BEFORE THIS ꕥ

#cod x reader #resident evil x reader #price x reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #rodolfo parra x reader #valeria garza x reader #farah karim x reader #kate laswell x reader #alex keller x reader #konig x reader #horangi x reader #keegan russ x reader #roach x reader #nikolai x reader #philip graves x reader #leon kennedy x reader #claire redfield x reader #carlos oliveria x reader #jill valentine x reader #ada wong x reader #ellie williams x reader #abby anderson x reader #chris redfeild x reader #cod drabble #resident evil drabble #tlou drabble #Aethelwyne Lia writes

[callsign-bunnie]

I’m not requesting Rudy owning a motorbike hc’s I’m on my knees begging for them. (This wasn’t something I knew I needed)

Please and thank you

I wasn't expecting to get that many asks but I'm grateful!

--

So, he's had the motorcycle since he was in his early twenties

He found it after finishing a raid (this was shortly before he became SIC) and marked it with a tracker to come back to it, later

It was very run down, an unfinished project by one of the Narcos that he, himself, had killed, so his first action with it was to scratch off their name and put his own on it

It was a very basic run down yamaha, nothing really special about it, besides the fact that it was a very pleasant blue color, and it wasn't very heavy due to the fact that it was missing quite a few of its parts

He had to sneak it onto the base, and later would relocate it to Alejandro's ranch

When Valeria's betrayal happened, his team ended up with a lot of free time due to investigations

So, he spent most of it trying to get that motorcycle to work

One of the first things that became very apparent was that it was neglected for a clear reason, that reason being that it was in VERY poor condition

Besides the outer bits, everything inside needed to be replaced

He's very tedious with cleaning it up and fixing it until it runs perfectly and with no issues, though this takes close to three years to do so

Money wasn't an issue, he found ways to steal the parts he needed if he couldn't afford them

The biggest issue was time, since he's made SIC somewhere in the middle of this and his time suddenly drops to having very little, if any at all

Eventually, though, he gets it finished and after new paint (he freshens the blue), it's ready to ride around

Alejandro isn't actually that anti-motorcycle, but he does express a lot of concern when Rodolfo drives it, so Rudy just learns to drive when he's not around

He puts hella illegal mods on it, and Alejandro isn't happy about that

If he can't sleep, he'll take it around Las Almas on "Patrol", just sort of keeping an eye on everything

Doesn't call it his baby, but everyone else does

He refuses to put stickers on it, and any Sergeant caught putting stickers on it gets a very loud and stern talking to. Of course, this means it becomes a game to see who can put the biggest sticker on it without being caught (the winner was Rodriguez with a massive Care Bear sticker) they're all removable, thankfully

Some Narcos are very hesitant to do things at night, since it's hard to know when Rodolfo Parra is gonna roll up on his bike and knock your lights out

If Alejandro is around, he wears a helmet, but he usually won't bother

He does know the risks of driving a motorcycle, but he's at an "if I die, I die" mentality, so he doesn't care

However, he doesn't want to listen to a lecture from Alejandro, so he will still be careful to wear one around him

He forgot ONCE and still hasn't heard the end of it

He's very meticulous in upkeep with it

#call of duty #rodolfo parra #rodolfo cod #alejandro x rodolfo #aledolfo #headcanons

[herzgeist-writes]

Hey I'd love to request a knight!Lawx princess!Female!Reader if you're comfortable writing that? Your work is so amazing 😍

And NSFW if you're ok with that too!

Pairing: Knight Law x Princess fem!reader | Word count: 8.5k | Warnings: violence/gore, angst, smut in the end - praise kinkish

Synopsis: As princess of the Red line kingdoms, life is peaceful. So you thought. Neighboring empires are in desperation, threatend to be overtaken by an infamous family - the Donquixote. After the king of Flevance passed, the successor, Trafalgar Law, asks the ruler of the gate keep kingdoms for support, your father. There is no way you can trust this man, can you?

A/N: MEDIEVAL AU! - I'm glad you like my works! I must apologize for the long wait, I got too invested in this. (I was close in making a multi chapter out of this one) Hope you like my little epiphany I had here, dear Wolfe! Big thanks for the request

(Before I forget, I'm german and I was CRAVING to write Law with snippets of his apparent native tongue - because medieval screams germanic)

Dividers by cafekitsune ~

The ambience is omnious . .

Each step taken reverberates through the imperial walls of the castle, your home. The air is filled with the scent of candles, oak wood and old leather bound books, herbs and lavish silken fabrics. Ornamented in bronze and golden flowering, pillars reach up high, standing tall in the castle's halls. Every now and then, the sunlight gets caught in the shimmering metal, reflecting directly towards you, blinding and restricting your vision to the slightest.

Down the corridor, leading to the throne hall, you hear a man announcing the arrival of a person unbeknownst to you. "My king, Lord Trafalgar, the knight of heart seeks your presence!", the voice raspy and old, calls out to your father, Eric VanDoth the third, ruler of the Red line empires, who gleefully receives the arriving: "Ah, Trafalgar old friend! I am glad to see your safe return. How are matters in the north?"

Leaning against the massive door, opened to free the way to the throne, you listen to the familiar tone, chills running down your spine - how you despise him. "Your highness, I am inconsolable, the north is at it's worst state - I wasn't able to fullfil your bidding, for that I must humbly apologize."

The north - a place as cold as it's former king, so you were told. It was supposed to be ruled by this very man, kneeling before your father, lowering his head in reverance. Trafalgar Law, rightful heir of the now shattered kingdom of Flevance. To this day, he is nothing more than a wandering knight, known for his cunning and controlled fighting strategies.

"Tis a shame indeed. Do not fret, I am fully aware of your homeland's situation, so please, quiet down your concerns. Were your followers successful to cognise the countries suffering?", the king straightens, lifting himself off the throne and approaches Law, him still remained on one knee.

Nodding his head, he confirms and raises from the ground, properly facing his highness. "My scouts managed to discern my land's circumstances. It is a matter of a forced overtake from my father's bloodline.", he explains, low and audibly torn.

"My Lady?", a feeble voice tears you out of focus, an indication for you to stop your eavesdropping immedatiely. In a quick spin you turn around and your gaze falls upon a young woman, it is your chamber maid, bowing courteously. "Apologies my Lady, I do not mean to pry, but isn't it unheard of listening to the unknowing people's conversations?" - "Valeria, you scared me. But yes, it isn't exactly a very profound manner. I'll see to my father and the knight this instant."

Before you make your way to the halls, you glance over your shoulder with a soft smile: "Oh please, would you be so kind and prepare my outdoor garments and parasol? It is a beautiful day outside." Your chamber maid bows once more, her head low in respect: "Of course, Princess." - "Thank you, Valeria."

Thus you tread nearer to the two men speaking of reports and strategies to win over the north - it is then where you take a closer look at Trafalgar, the wandering knight. His armor is made out of white cold steel, the flourish ornaments on his chestplate formed into a curling heart, beginning from his sternum. The cloak swaying from his shoulders is as pitch black as his hair, white spots spread over the dark fabric here and there.

Hanging on his back appears to be the cloak's hood, it's rim sewed with fur of a white animal to protect from the cold at northern plains. To your notice, now that Law's gauntlets are off, you see letters punctured into his knuckles - saying: DEATH.

It leaves you appalled, come to think this is a highly regarded knight and the king's ambassador. Not to mention his sinister glare, freezing your blood. His face enframed by raven sideburns and a chin beard, only enhancing those storm grey eyes to your horrification. And the skin, as expected from a northerner - as pale as snow.

It is only a matter of time, until your father might consider to grade this shadow of a man as Commander of his garrison. How terrific . . purely to your misery, you already know it is bound to happen.

"What about the barriers, are there enough- ah my dearest (Y/n), Lord Trafalgar and I were merely discussing the current state of afairs in the Flevance kingdom.", the king greets you with open arms, as soon as he comes to realise your approach. All the same goes for Law, his demeanor stiff and haughty, yet still respectful.

"So I heard. Lord Trafalgar?", you give a deft curtsy to the knight, who turns to you and bows in return, greeting with a low 'your grace'. Mid movement, Law lifts his head, his stare meeting your deep e/c eyes, eliciting a skip of your heart in response. Absurd, you detest this man, so much so your skin bares in gooseflesh. Something about him tells you - he has seen and done things. Not to your kingdom's benevolence.

Your father continues: "Be that as it may, you are welcome to stay, friend. And I dearly hope you to consider my offer."

Offer? Did you overhear that part of their conversation, while talking to Valeria. Keeping your composure, standing straight, though the corsette wouldn't allow otherwise, you supress the urge to shoot a glare towards your dear father.

"You shall hear my answer the coming day, your highness.", Law reassures, saluting to the king as gesture of declaration. So the king brings his servant over to lead the knight to his chamber. "Silas will show you the way. You are free to join us at tonight's dinner, I'll look foward to more detailed matters of plans."

The tall man follows the compared to him dwarvish seeming servant, waving his thanks. To the rhythm of his metallic sabatons, the chainmail clinks against his armor with each and every step, letting your neck hair stand on end. The black cloak on his back sways from left to right from his fast paced walk.

As he vanishes, this is where your utmost worries unfold: "Father, I don't trust this man! He is dreary and cold, there is that sinister feeling about him." - "My sweet, calm down. I am aware you aren't fond of him, but he is in need of our assistance. I cannot decline an old friend's legacy. Please have faith, (Y/n)."

Exhaling deeply, you losen up and place your palm onto your father's shoulder, accepting his decision. "I truly hope you are right . . I will see you tonight." - "Yes dear.", and with those words you go ready yourself for a stroll in the castle gardens.

-_

Roses, tulips, violets . .

. . all flowers pool over the royal backyard like an ocean of colours and shapes. In midst stands a enormous fountain, adorned with a sculpture of your country's symbol, the bronze dove.

The sun's radiance warms you from within.

Sitting on an stone bench, adjoining the gravel path leading back to the castle, you flip through the pages of an newly received novel, reading "Deceitful Silhouettes".

It's prologue roils up emotions inside you, the letters weaving you in and reaching for your now alarmed instincts regarding the knight of the north.

Speaking of the devil. In the distance, Law saunters through the garden, his gaze hovering over the red and violet sea of flowers. He is headed your direction. Nervous, you stick your nose deep into the pages, not keen on meeting the king's ambassador one on one.

Although the golden orb in the sky grants you the needed warmth, the freezing cold coming from this human being deflects it without effort, to say the least.

"Your grace, still spell bound by mere black on white as always I see.", it's too late, he calls out to you, defining your weakness for literature. Peeking over the bound papers, you scoff: "I see you didn't change from the last time we met, Lord Trafalgar."

Quick to retort your remark, the tall man huffs a short 'perhaps', pulling aside the cloak to seat beside you. The last sun rays cast upon his armor, making you whince subtly from the light's sting. "I believe things haven't changed between you and me, Princess." - "How troublesome, there I thougth there was hope for the both of us.", your sarcasm throws a shadow of contrast against Law's more serious statement.

The knight's eyes land on your book's label, deciphering the name and persuming it's content. A smirk grows over his lips and he comments nonchalantly: "If you are in attempt to school yourself in deceitful doings, I suggest you to undertake the trainings somewhere your victim cannot see what you are up to."

An eery aura looms over you, staring down the man on the neighboring seat. He lifts his hands in defense: "Oh, with all due respect, your highness." - "Save your courtesy for tonight's dinner, knight of heart."

How much you despise his sarcastic mannerism, not that you are any better, yet it won't get over your head, that it actually enlightens you, a rather exciting banter given the fact how eyes mirror the truth. Nonetheless, you decide to set aside the undesirable, he is not to be trusted.

About to make your way back to the castle, you close the book with a loud snap and open the parasol, leaned against the stone bench. "I hopefully won't see you tonight, my Lord." - "You might.", as you click your tongue, you turn on your heels and carefully tread the path.

However, you hear a mused voice chuckle behind you: "I am looking foward to further intriguing discussions with you, your grace."

The gravel underneath your feet cracks and pops by the impact of your soles, quickening your step, the sound grows louder.

This man . .

Law shakes his head in disbelief, internally smiling to himself. Just when he was to get off the bench, a shadow scurrying along the forest's edge catches his attention. Squinting his dark circles enframed eyes, the feeling of unease makes a vacant appearance.

"Wie beunruhigend . .", he mutters in his native language, rubbing his neck before sighing in discontent.

(Translation: "How concerning . .")

-_

Safran pastry, wine, dried vegetables and fruit, ham and rosemary potatoes . .

. . fill the table, plates assorted over every empty surface. The loud snaps coming from the fireplace echo in the dining room.

"You are the first to arrive my Lady, shall I bring anything to drink?", Valeria leads you towards the bountiful table. Thanking your chamber maid, you ask for a goblet of wine in hopes to shorten the wait for the other's arrival.

Taking a seat by side the chimney, you watch as the flames dance and flicker, hypnotizing you to a certain extent. The smell of the delicacies lets your insides growl in hunger, impatience growing stronger each second.

Valeria returns with your beverage, a smile tugging on her lips as she hands it over to you. One sip of the red liquid is enough to make your head spin, given by an empty stomach.

Behind the closed door, you hear a well-known voice laughing and discussing vividly. "I'm sure she'll be delighted to hear- oh you're already here love!", who would have thought it to be your father, entering with none other than Trafalgar?

Didn't you politely wish for him not to attend earlier this afternoon? Must be something about his hearing. Your pout enhances your sour mood, leaving Valeria amused - smirking to the display of you practically burning holes into the king's ambassador.

"My Lady, he is quite the looker no? I heard he's much so adored amongst women.", she snickers, leaning towards you. It is only until now, that you notice Law wearing a black vest, buttons undone far too low for your taste. Is that the same symbol like the one on his armor's chest plate, tattooed on his torso?

The lines embellish his porcelain like skin, enhancing the muscles. Every breath shows over his heaving rib cage. Heat shoots up your face. You're not certain wether to blame it on your rage or . . abashment from your insolent staring.

Steel eyes catch your slip, lids falling and forming into an intrigued glint, with a hint of curiosity. Law's blown pupils avert back to the conversation he's holding with your father.

Audibley gulping, you curse inwardly for letting your guard down this way, asking Valeria for more wine to deter the matter. Your chamber maid titters.

The food is as delicious as ever. "My compliments to the chef. This is Alfred's work I assume?" - "Yes, your highness.", the king praises the culinary experience, fowarding them to Valeria, who bows deftly and begins to bring the amassing empty plates back to the kitchen.

As if prey to the predator, you avoid Trafalgar's cold glare, him fleetingly observing you by noticing your each and every move.

"(Y/n), I would like to announce rather good news!", is what you hear, coming from the other end of the table. A proud grin plasters over your father's mouth and he continues: "Lord Trafalgar will be your guard for the time being." Did your hearing just falter?

Back and forth, switching between your father and Law you gape at them in disbelief. Without a word, you sip on your golden goblet and set it onto the table - provocatively slow. "Father, I cannot accept this.", you hiss and straighten yourself, about to leave the room.

Out of patience already, the king uses his privilege of hierarchy: "This wasn't a question young lady! It is final, he will be your guard!"

Close to throwing a tantrum, you control your burst of emotion - deep breaths holding in the bitter words lingering on your tongue.

Diffusing the tension, the knight gets off his seat and approaches you, dispersing the undeclared: "Your grace, it is only for the time I stay at your castle. It won't be for long, I can assure you."

The way he stands infront of you, his head held in veneration, which you doubt is in honesty, he places his palm against his heart. Loud enough only for your ears to hear, he hushes: "I'd be honoured, if I gained a mere speck of your trust, Princess."

Discomfort is vacant on your demeanor, fidgeting and twirling your fingers - it is then, where you come to realise that Valeria was right, he is a looker. In addition, his voice brings your body to unknown territory, feeling weak to the knees out of the blue.

No! Stay strong (Y/n). He is not to be trusted. He is not to be-

"Ich stehe Euch zu Diensten, euer Hoheit.", Law hums in his native tongue, his hand asking for yours in order to demonstrate his respect - his seriousness in all this. This truly isn’t not a joke, is it?

(Translation: "I am at your service, your Highness.")

Gently, you put your trust in him, though with abiding doubts, however the lips that enticingly sought your acceptance, press onto the silken skin on the back of your hand. At that, it lasts far too long to your liking.

The gooseflesh that usually forms out of pure horrification, now bears a completely different meaning - you are flustered, roused even. "Th-That's enough Lord Trafalgar! Quit making an utter fool of yourself, I accept . ."

-_

People gather and follow the brightly lit lanters, leading to your kingsdom‘s capital. The air stings your skin - winter's first greeting this year.

Horses pull wagons, filled with wares and goods to be sold on the market, their hooves clopping over the cobble stone streets.

Passers by look at you in curiosity, for you pulled the rim of your hood a tad bit too further down your face. Annoyance growls your way, as Trafalgar mutters: "Are you trying to torture me? It's the fourth time this week we tread among civilians."

"Why isn't that tedious? I thought you are at my service, my Lord.", is what chuckles out of you, fidgeting at your cloak. Law only clicks his tongue to your insolent and conceited behaviour, these walks to the capital not exactly being in his book.

The high pitch and grating squeals from a group of women rips the both of you out the conversation, or instead distasteful chaff. You turn to see the source of commotion and notice a green haired man seated on his charger, leading a patrol team.

Three fully grown stallions take a halt beside you two and the leader addresses you: "Up and about to visit the markets, my Lady?" - "Commander Roronoa! What a pleasant surprise! Indeed, I am headed to see the jewelery and pottery stands. And I assume you are here to keep everything under control?"

Nervous, you shuffle in place, feeling lightheaded and your heart picks up the pace by the sight of your royal guards' high chief. The red tint on your cheeks begins to glow and you give your brightest of smiles.

The king's ambassador isn't a fool, fully comprehending that you are fond of this man. Law watches you closely, realising how your demeanor changed in a sheer instant - leaving him to question 'why you nuture such hatred towards him?'

Trafalgar's attention averts to the green haired smirking bastard. His armor is shimmering onyx, adorned with a dark red cloak falling from his shoulders. Counting three golden earrings on his left ear, in addition, Law is taken aback by the long grazing scar eternalised onto Roronoa's left eye.

You practically swoon for this simple Commander. How ridiculous, the raven next to you thinks to himself. Nonetheless, why do you seem so . . approachable, loving? It goes beyond your temporary body guard's comprehesion.

Now confirming your assumption, Roronoa nods and grins over both ears. His horse's impatience shows by it's uneasy scuffs of it's hoove against the ground. Reins are getting pulled to calm the stallion, all while in the process of giving Law a long lasting stare, the Commander scoffs: "The scary dog privilege should keep you safe. Be seeing you, Princess."

"I beg your pardon?", the knight of heart tears open his eyes, shook about the term that lowly 'Soldier' Roronoa spat at him a moment ago. Yet, the occassion to counter his insolence passed it's point, as the patrolling group rides ahead to the capital.

You beckon: "Come along now, my Lord. It isn't far now." Walking the path, heavy footsteps catch up to you and the raspy voice of the man you oh so curse gives you more reason to incite. "Interesting, your highness is about to drop the hankerchief for a mere royal guard.", Law muses, not a care in the world of exposing you.

"Oh hush, this is none of your business, mere ambassador.", is what you pout, lifting your nose in arrogance. There is a feeling of success, subconsciously aware that you are victorious in this game of childish ribbing.

Admittedly, this sinister man has grown on you, given the fact he ended up as your personal guard about two months ago. Still, never would you concede to those hidden innuendos in his steel glare, looking at you in ways you wish to misinterpret from the beginning.

There is that certain . . spark.

Your body guard isn't keen on being called a 'mere ambassador'. Why, you do seem to know your way in hierarchy, (Y/n). Ignoring your insult, Trafalgar escorts you further to the village, only minutes away on foot.

-_

Merchants call out to the potential customers, roaming across the market's streets.

The smell of freshly baked bread, mead, smoked ham and all kinds of herbs fills your nostrils as you pass stalls.

Sauntering, you take in the ambience, inhaling the scents and enjoying the peace and calm the time brings.

Occupied with the opposite concept, Law worriedly lets his gaze hover over the crowd, not wholly indulging in the cheerful of this event. "My lord, you appear distant. Something the matter?" - "Just vigilant. The situation isn't as tranquil as it looks.", his concern is contagious, your question bounces off a wall of stubborn and discipline.

Suddenly, a piece of turkish delight restricts Trafalgar's vision, for you hold it up right infront of his face: "Calm your senses and taste this! I am sure you simply are too overattentive."

Eyebrows furrow, skeptical about your offer, the knight declines. "I can turn this into an order very quickly, if you won't abide.", using your hierarchy card against him, there is no use in refusing you.

The powdered sugar gathers around his chapped lips, spreading over his black chin beard. If you wouldn't know it any better, this display of your guard chewing on the sugary delight is more than appeasing to you.

There he stands. A fully armored knight, carrying around a long sword on his shoulders. A man so intimidating, people genuinley think of him to be an evil creature, the princess's scary guard dog.

The so called scary guard dog apparently is tamed by your unexpected gesture, suckling on the honey and wiping away the sugar from his chin. "This isn't very lady like to feed someone lower than you, your grace.", he utters, but his comment falls on deaf ears. So you retort: "It isn't very guard like either, to eat out of the princess's hands."

Logic is non existent in that case. Rolling his eyes, Law turns away from you and steps away from the merchant stall.

The more time you spend together like this, the more you learn about the knight of heart. All forenoon, until the sun reaches it's highest peak, teasing banters and chaffs dispersed into thin air, as if there were none to begin with . . as if Lord Trafalgar was a good friend.

Friend? Is that how you wish to call him that?

Your heart sets out a beat, considering the idea of declaring your point of view of this relationship between him and you. Law walks a few feet before you, making sure anything in front is secured, yet it is his position to be at fault in less crowded alleys you find yourself in, not noticing the following immediately.

About to speak your mind, a giant and calloused hand slams onto your mouth, to silence your muffled gasp of shock.

You can hear your blood rushing through your ears, the lungs in your ribcage tighten and push out the remaining air in panic.

"You are far too pretty to wander around these parts of the kingdom, Lady VanDoth.", sounds from the back, a nasty snarl hushes over your shoulder and the tinge of alcohol wafts around you.

Black silhouettes your vision, recognizing Trafalgar turning around, instantly unsheathing his blade: "You! Get your filthy hands off the princess!" - "Princess?" The stranger snorts in gutteral gloat and presses a dagger against your throat, responding in Law's native language.

"Habt Ihr es nicht gehört, Ritter des Todes? Der Herrscher dieses Königreichs ist tot. Diese Frau, die Ihr hier seht ist nun die Königin, Narr!", he spits in amusement, the blade gnawing on your skin, blood trickles down your gorge from it‘s puncture.

(Translation: "Didn't you hear, knight of death? The ruler of this kingdom is dead. This Woman here is now the queen, fool!")

Noticing a distinct tattoo on the masked man's hand, a grinning skull being split in half, your guard gets enraged and approaches the maniac behind you in threateningly slow motion, his sword ready to slice it's target: "Scheisse . . ich bin derjenige den Ihr sucht, räudiger Sohn einer Hündin! Lasst sie gehen! Sie hat nichts mit dem Grinsenden Schädel, weder der Donquixote Familie zu tun!"

(Translation: "Shit . . I'm the one you're looking for, son of a bitch! Let her go! She has nothing to do with the Grinning Skull, nor the Donquixote family!")

The stranger chuckles sinisterly, deftly paying no mind to Trafalgar's threats. "Did you hear that little girl? Your father is dead!", so he states, earning a whimper of distress out of you. Dread widens the windows to your now vulnerable soul, emotions forming into salty droplets flowing down your cheek. You don't trust your hearing.

Out of impulse, you aim your fist for his groin, but there is no chance you are able to reach him, his stronghold keeping you in place. "Now now, let's not get hasty, bitch. My master will be pleased upon your arrival in Flevance."

"I said hands off!", you hear the atagonizing scream coming from Law, who storms at you in full spead. The dagger fends of the longsword, though only barely and the maniac pulls you along, yelling to back off. Fingers claw into your neck, limiting your ability to breathe - already close to passing out.

The knight is tied, he cannot advance without you getting fataly hurt, thus he stays at a safe distance.

So the masked one grabs you by the wrist and makes a run for it, throwing insults and curses at you among the escape attempt. You hold out to your guard: "Law!" All is left to see, is Lord Trafalgar clenching his teeth and sprinting the opposite direction.

No . . please. This cannot end this way. Those words cloud your thoughts, bringing you to a state of overwhelming doubts and fear, your limbs becoming numb.

In terror, you see how your people get assassinated by other countless men with hoods hiding their faces, the grinning skull imprinted on either their arms, hands or necks.

Women screech out of horror, children cry and men fend off the ambush with all the power they're able to muster. It is a picture of nightmares, blood and intestines spread across the ground to those bastard's sheer pleasure, hearing them snicker as they murder one after the other.

The assassin roars at you furiously: "Run faster you whor-" Just before he gets to end his provocation, the stranger's head rolls over the cobble stone next to your feet, for a blade quick and sharp separated it from those ragged shoulders mid movement.

"Princess, we must make haste! The king has been assaulted and the castle is still under siege!", a loud voice calls out to you on the back of a horse, riling in place from the hectic. It's Commander Roronoa. His hand holds out to you, heaving you onto his stallions's back and animates it to gallop straight to the palace.

Scurrying and aimlessly running from the danger, the village folk seek shelter, dodging Roronoa's charge. In the distance you identify an archer, the bow taught and prepared to shoot it's arrow, aimed towards you.

In fret, you squeeze your eyes shut and you hear the Commander cursing under his hitched breath.

Yet, the arrow doesn't find it's target. A tall man, armored in cold steel thrusts his longsword through the enemy's stomach, shredding the archer's bellows. Boneless, the body sinks to the ground and the man saving your getaway yells: "Go secure the castle! I will hold the line here!.

Trafalgar enables your escape, covering your back and ridding anyone who dares to follow you. In the corner of your eye, you watch as he fights a group of assassins trying to come after you.

He saved your life . .

-_

Countless moons passed since the Donquixote intrusion.

Luckily, your army was prepared for such atrocious attacks. It wasn't enough to save your dearest father whatsoever.

The goodbyes were painful, the grief only grew by the fact you weren't able to protect him. Doubts about Lord Trafalgar overwhelmed you, to think it was his doing, which turned into a burden he understood will never be forgiven that easily by you.

The knight of heart, or as it came to pass, knight of death, was in fact seeking shelter for the time being, instructed as an under cover body guard of yours. Your father took him in, granting him shelter, to gather and plan the reclaim of his kingdom.

Where security was surmised, chaos induced along this man's path. You knew he wasn't to be trusted, however was he truly to blame? Eric VanDoth was a generous and peaceful man, a king to look up to, although the risk of being used for kindness - which in this world was never a good weapon to begin with - not ever was disputed.

Lord Trafalgar appreciated VanDoth's support, deeming him a honorable and trustworthy man, these words said to you in his utmost condolensces.

All this, Law explained to you through the years of renewal and acceptance of your rulership. What would have happend, if you knew these plans sooner? It is uncertain to you why they have been kept from you, but you assume it was for your own protection.

So to this day, you are the queen of the Red line empires, (Y/n) VanDoth the fourth, ruler of the gate kingdom. A great responsibility has been bestowed upon you, as the keeper of the celestial directions and seas.

And Law? It was a great announcement, one you actually were glad and overjoyed to hear - Trafalgar Law, reclaimed his place as king of Flevance, for him and his people countered the Donquixote overtake.

Life turned for the better - peace once more was restored to the northern empires, as the rightful ruler returned home.

Nevertheless, you unlikely admit that a feeling of longing filled your mind, as your thoughts spinned around the king of heart. Only letters, inscripted with the obvious interest and lovable banters, a spark, left you yearning for more - and the day of his visit was finally about to occur.

-_

"My queen, Lord Trafalgar has arrived!", Silas reports while walking towards the throne, on which you are seated.

"Bring his followers to the gathering halls and let Trafalgar enter the gardens, I'll await him there." - "Yes, your highness.", you thank your servant with a warm smile, nodding at him and straightening yourself off the throne.

Valeria follows you silently, her attention never wavering from you. You turn to face her: "Please dear, bring me my parasol." Deftly accepting your request with a low 'my queen' she makes her way to the cabins.

The sun's grace enlightens the castles halls, crystal clear windows deflecting the rays in all kinds of colours onto the bronzen embellishments. It reminds of the times you entered the throne halls, whenever he sought your father.

Today wasn't any different, for at long last you are able to see him again.

Greeted by the usual garden of red and purple, you breathe in the crisp and warm air surrounding you, reminiscing the past and looking foward to the future all the same. The parasol provides you with protection, it's shade cooling your skin.

You take a seat at the stone bench and admire the scenery before you. It hasn't changed, not at all. After all these years, it is as if time stood still, solely for this moment.

"Your grace, I think you are missing your usual literature. Shall I bring it to you?", a voice deep, makes your head spin hastily to the source of familiarity. His name hushes out of you in whisper and you cannot help but laugh at his remark.

There he stands, Trafalgar, the king of heart. Of course you haven't forgotten your courtesy and get off the bench to bow subtly as greeting.

Glimmering in the afternoon's shine, his armor reflects the heart upon his chest, which he wears in pride. It's colour has been changed to anthracite grey, the pauldrons heavy on his shoulders and every edge of noble plate is adorned with fine lines of bright gold.

Only the cloak remained the same, haging on his back elegantly, throwing off a threatening shadow beneath his feet. How you wish to pull the hood over his head and draw him in . . yet, what makes you think you are allowed to?

His hand gently holds out to yours and leads it to his lips, respecting the regards a queen of your calibre deserves to earn. "Except for your title, nothing has changed about you, my lord." - "I can say the same about you, your majesty.", knowing glints of hidden love interest is what you share, seeing the man in front of you kiss the back of your hand with utmost care.

Strolling through the royal gardens, you walk side by side of one another, speaking of your empires' new era, Flevance's reclaim and the Red line's capital restoration. Much has happend the time Lord Trafalgar saw you last - in honesty a shame, he thinks to himself, nonetheless the saving of his kingdom was inevitable.

"Have you considered entering the bond of matrimony, your grace?", Law questions you out of the blue, a shiver running down your spine in surprise. It wasn't what you ought to hear from a man of his stature, thus you answer earnestly: "Not yet, not properly. I must admit it would be of convenience."

Heavy footsteps inch your direction as the both of you come to a stand, sturdy chains clank against his sabatons in the rhythm of his approach. He lowers: "May I have the honor?"

Dumbfounded you watch him kneel down before you, embracing your tender palm: "I humbly ask for your hand in marriage." Full of expectations, his steel eyes wander up to witness your reaction.

It skipped, the beat of your heart - blood rushing through your veins in high speed, the air bearly leaving your lungs. All your nobility, all the the royal grace you have to represent melts off of you. Emotions strongly washing over, hearing his declaration.

Will you accept?

-_

He remembers it as if it was yesterday.

You, in a gown competing the beauty of nature, it's white silk embracing your delicate frame. The bells rang and people cheered in glee. It was the happiest day of his life, for he swore an oath to his loving bride, to protect her, to be her supporting hand and shelter.

This is the day, the Red line empire has been united with Flevance, emerging as a powerful kingdom over the northern seas. Bound by marriage, a king and a queen reign over the lands that once were shattered, rebuilding hope and solitude.

At that, it is a strong bond, a matrimony sought in reason of love, which is a seldom, but not uncommon case. You welcome the warm feeling of your doting husband being your pillar, your base of unwinding.

The white fabric glides off your shoulders, exposing your soft skin. A shiver runs down Law's spine, entranced by your allure. Pupils dilate due to tremendous attraction towards you and he gruadually steps closer. "Ich habe keine Worte um Eure Schönheit zu beschreiben . .", he mutters in his tongue, to that you solely manage to chuckle in reply.

(Translation: "I have no words for your beauty to describe . .")

This is where you decide to prove your ability to provide an answer in kind: "Kein Grund, so förmlich zu sein, mein König. Ich bin ganz die deine." - "Auch noch sprachbegabt? Ihr steckt voller Überraschungen." The man looks you up and down, a shaky breath escaping him, knowing too well, what is about to occur.

(Translation: "No need to be so formal, my king. I am all yours." - "Also gifted with languages?" You are full of surprises.")

Lips, that Trafalgar yearned for to taste, finally conceal his, silencing every thought in his mind. To think, that the both of you harbored such hatred for each other, love has conquered your hearts in the end, the sense behind it inexplicable.

Hands, that longed to touch you, graze your waist and neck, pulling you in nearer, as if holding on for dear life. Close, is what he needs you to be this instant, his warmth engulfing you as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss.

A voice, that whispers your name and foreign words as if chanting a spell. Not all is beknownst to you, however one sentence reverberates in your ears as he purrs: "Ihr seid das Schönste, das unter der Sonne wandelt, meine Herzdame." His sweet nothings elicits a low moan out of you, what Law deems as a melody to his senses.

(Translation: "You are the most beautiful thing that walks under the sun, my queen of hearts.")

Garments are spread across the floor. Two lovers found their way to the bed, intertwined, driven by desire. For the first time, your eyes feast upon his lean body, embellished with dark, fine lined tribal ink all across his torso.

Tracing the imprinted ornaments, your fingers hover over them with utmost care, earning a satisifed sigh out of your spouse. "I dearly hope you are not all too appalled by-", before he can finish his sentence with hinted sarcasm, you hush him with your index, pressing those precious lips shut. So you coo: "Quit your foolery, you know I love you, all of you"

Affectionately, he lowers himself onto you, heart to heart, chests heaving against each other - nervosity evident in both of you. Peppered kisses along your ear let your back arch, leaving you in languish as he pulls away to groan huskily: "Dann gehört dies Euch, meine Königin."

(Translation: "Then this belongs to you, my queen.")

Leading your palm to his wildly beating muscle in his ribcage, he romantically offers you his heart, confessing his feelings towards you yet again, knocking the air out of your lungs.

Now one, his length penetrates your velvet walls in a painstakingly slow and passionate manner. You squirm and tremble to the rhythm of his grinds, filling you up completely. Cresent prints trail down his back, the scrapes flushing in a sarutated red.

You purr his name into the crook of his neck, sideburns tickling you in the process. Subsequently, you tug on his golden earrings, taking Law off guard, as he moans in response. Those gestures madden the former knight, bringing him to gain in volume.

Sweat trickles along his hairline, for he picks up the pace and lifts your leg by grabbing the plush of your thigh. Now deeper, the tip of his hardness hits you in spots that lets you see stars, in combination with his delightful hums of pleasure it sets your core ablaze.

A bit more forceful, his hand takes hold of your breast, squeezing it out of pure lust, watching you as your head rolls back in bliss. You are reaching your climax, lulling incomprehesive words to your lover. Gently pulling on your hardened and pink tinted bud, he cannot supress his vast impulsives, listening to your pleas: „Yes, let go for me . .“

From overstimulation, your free leg slings over his thrusting hip, drawing Law‘s frame even closer. Lips clash onto one another, muffling the enticing sounds of your high. His teeth prod against the plump and the tongue twirls along yours.

A rush of sensation washes over you - feeling animal, feral - as your orgasm spills out of you, dripping down his groin. Law is chasing, not far from his own release for the scene infront of him lures him into all out ecstasy.

Giving in the crave to make you his entirely, he pours out the love he long dreamed about indulging you in. Weakend, his whole physique stutters and quakes, overwhelmed with the idea of claiming his beloved queen.

Warm air brushes against your skin, coming from Law nuzzling your cheek, panting: „Ich liebe dich.“

(Translation: "I love you.")

#one piece #one piece law #law x female reader #law x fem!reader #trafalgar one piece #law x y/n #x reader #fanfiction #one piece request #one piece requests #law as a knight is pretty dreamy #will you be the queen of hearts?

[smalls-words]

Chapter Nine: You Ready to Go to Church?

Summary: Whilst working, Natasha makes a few discoveries about herself. 1 - she's lonely. 2 - people come from all walks of life.

Pairings: Devil!Natasha x Fem!Detective!Reader, Natasha x Wanda, Reader x Steve (exes, co-parents), Yelena x Natasha (sisters).

Warnings: Blood, guns, drugs, death, mourning, therapy. Please let me know if I've missed anything!

A/N: This episode was quite a trek to write but semi-important. I won't be writing every episode of Lucifer for this series but I do seriously recommend watching it.

Series Masterlist

*not my gif*

The partying devil lay flat on the therapist’s couch, explaining the events of last night in great sensual detail. A pizza delivery boy getting his first experience on the job in a lingerie party, the party itself having three Brittanys, or Brittanies if you wish, and drugs, sex and alcohol of course. 

“But I didn’t join them. Three Brittanies in a jacuzzi, three! And I didn’t join them.” Natasha grumbled, dressed in one of her more flattering suits that had a black, lace-hemmed corset top beneath her suit jacket, the buttons undone and tempting the doctor on the other side of the coffee table. 

“Why do you think you didn’t join them?” Kate asked, sitting up straight in her chair with a neat pair of jeans and a long-sleeve shirt, her raven locks tied back in a bun. 

“I don't know, Doctor. That's what I pay you to figure out, isn't it?” Natasha huffed, sitting up.

“Have you ever considered that all of this… excessive partying… may be your attempt to fill a void?” Kate offered. “‘Attempt’? I filled five voids last night.” The devil smirked, folding one knee over the other.

The doctor sighed. “That’s not what I mean.” When Natasha looked at her with a confused expression, Kate further explained. “A void in your emotional life. You sound… lonely, Natasha.” 

The redhead almost cocked her head to the side like a confused puppy. “‘Lonely’? Have... have you been listening to a word I've said? I am never alone, I'm constantly surrounded by people, you know? I party whenever I desire, my bed is never cold.” She said with an exasperated sigh.

“Natasha, being alone and being lonely are two entirely different things.”

“Are they?”

“Of course. You may be surrounded by others, but… do you truly consider any of those people your friend? A peer you respect, someone you like to spend time with. Someone… with whom you share a meaningful connection.” Kate softened her voice, seeing how this was new territory for Natasha.

In classic devil nature, Natasha smirked. “Well, you and I connect quite well.”

Kate immediately shut it down. “I'm talking personally. …What about Wanda?”

Natasha’s smirk fell flat. “No. She and I are on the outs, I'm afraid. Long story filled with betrayal. You actually make a cameo in it.”

“How about Detective Valeria? Do you consider her your friend?” The doctor replied, staying calm despite the frustrated woman in front of her.

“Well, quite honestly, I... I'm not sure what we are.” She murmured.

Kate smiled gently. “Why don’t you try finding out?”

⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖

After her therapy session, Natasha made her way back to Lux to enjoy a glass of her newest scotch ordered from Scotland, though it didn’t help that someone was already there. As she walked along the corridor, Wanda came running up the stairs in a strapless dress and thigh-high fishnet stockings. “Natasha? Listen, can we tal-?”

“I don't have time for traitors.” Natasha cut her off, her words almost a hiss.

“Look, I get that you don't want to talk to me. But someone else is here to see you for a favour.”

“Not in the mood, Wanda.”

“Trust me.You don't want to miss this one.” 

When Natasha finally looked down at Wanda, there was a flash of demonic happiness in her eyes. Her irises glowed their swirling red, and she gently turned Natasha’s head by her chin to see a man waiting for her in the main club area. 

“Be gone.” Natasha muttered to Wanda, a simple wave of her hand before Wanda made herself scarce.

Natasha slowly came down the stairs, tying up her hair whilst she buttoned up her suit jacket. If this was official business, she’d look official for it.

“You wanted to speak with me?” She declared herself known to the man.

As he stood, his bald head and dark skin tone reminded her of someone she knew by blood. He wore a suit, much like her own, though far more formal - and she didn’t wear a clerical collar either.

“Natasha Romanoff. I’m Father Frank Lawrence.” He introduced himself politely, a smooth slick to his baritone voice as he held out his hand to shake.

She didn’t shake it, instead chuckling. “A priest walks into a bar. I've heard this one before. Never seen it, though. At least, not here.”

She dawdled around to the other side of the bar, pouring herself some whiskey since the scotch had yet to be unpacked. “Padre, how did you of all people find me?”

“Don't let the collar fool you.” He gestured to it minutely. “I have friends from all walks of life. And some of these friends tell me you're the woman to see when you run out of options.”

“Ooh, what kind of nasty trouble have you gotten yourself into then? Pinched too much from the collection basket?” She teased.

“I'm here about a neighbourhood youth center.” Father Frank explained.

“Sounds dreadful.” Natasha grumbled, sipping the whiskey.

“It is... especially when you realise it's being used as a front for an illegal drug operation. The center's director, Lenny Arietta, is recruiting kids from my church to move his product.”

She tsked. “Ah, so this is about young boys, of course it is.”

“One in particular. A kid named Connor. He's had it rough. Lost both his parents at six. Bounced from home to home, some juvie. But deep down, a good kid.” He paused and pulled out his cell phone, a picture already loaded once unlocked.

The devil put down her whiskey and studied the image. A white young male, no more than 16 or 17. A blue beanie covered blonde hair, a grey shirt with a skull on it and blue collar hems, whilst he had a black zip-up hoodie with white drawstrings.

“So, diddling this one, are you?” She asked, handing the phone back.

He chuckled dryly, taking the phone back. “How about I not dignify that with an answer, and instead ask my favour?”

“Thank fuck, I was wondering when you'd get to it.” She grumbled, pouring another glass of whiskey.

“I want you to talk to Arietta before Connor gets involved.”

“And why not go to the police? Got something to hide, do you?”

“They were useless. Couldn't find anything on Arietta.”

Natasha felt a bit protective when he said that the police were useless. She knew that if you had been given this case, you would have tried your damned hardest to solve it. She just knew it. 

“Why not ask your boss then, hey? The Almighty Himself.” She smirked, pointing at the ceiling but not looking at it.

“I already have.” He answered.

“Oh, no luck?”

“On the contrary - I believe he led me to you.”

She chuckled heartily. “Oh, I highly doubt that. So that's it, is it? Stop a drug ring to help some kid get out of trouble.”

Father Frank sat down as Natasha rounded the bar again, coming closer to him before she grinned lightly. “What's in it for you? What is it you really want? That dirty dark desire I can see you struggling to hold in.”

She watched with glee as her mojo worked on the priest, his eyes glazing over slightly. “What I really want… is to put my fist through Arietta's face.”

“Ha! And there it is. Wrath.” She grinned deviously, pleased with herself. “Ooh, not so high and mighty now, are you?”

“We all have demons inside.” He murmured, like he was shamefully admitting that fact.

She shrugged. “My demon tends the bar. So come on, what else are you hiding? Hypocrites like you always have something.”

“You don't know anything about me.”

“Oh, I know plenty. You and I are natural sworn enemies.”

He sighed. “Let’s cut to the chase - you gonna help me or not?” 

“My answer to you, Father, is a big fat no. Handle it yourself.” She said, mocking his title before she walked off. “Wanda?! Are the Brittanies still here?!”

“No - but Valeria called.” Wanda echoed through the halls.

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“You're lucky I don't have any active cases, or else I'd send this to Narcotics.” You grumbled as you walked with Natasha up the ramp of the youth centre, dressed in your black jeans, jacket, a blue-black striped long sleeve with your badge and gun in its holster.

“Narcotics? No, no, no, no. I don't give a damn about the drug dealer. We're here to investigate the priest.” Natasha clarified.

“Priest? I thought we were here to talk to the youth director.” You raised an eyebrow at her, questioning her motive for this case.

“We are. To get dirt on the priest. He must be hiding something. And what better way to stick it to dear old Dad than prove that those who speak on His behalf aren't as virtuous as they pretend to be?” She grinned.

You sighed as you approached the youth director’s office. “You thought it'd be a good idea to rope me into your imaginary family feud? Great.”

“Look, am I mistaken or do you catch bad guys? Now, this priest is up to something. Something nefarious... I can feel it.” Natasha said, looking at the passing children with a slightly disgusted expression.

“Last I checked, your feelings don't count as probable cause.” You remarked, knocking on the double doors to the office.

“Well, isn't the fact that he came to me probable cause enough? Or I could just interrogate this youth director by myself.” Natasha shrugged, knocking the door before you could stop her.

“No, just let me do the talking. Mr. Arietta?” You called through the door, checking the handle to find it locked.

“Hmm. Well, if I were trapped in here with these vile children, I'd lock my door as well.” She smirked. You bent down and looked through the small glass gap of the door, scattered papers littering the floor as well as some knocked over science glassware. But just when you were about to pull away, you spotted a pair of legs lying face down on the floor.

“Back up.” You muttered to Natasha before you raised your foot and kicked in the door, the lock snapping on its way open. 

“Well, Detective.” Natasha grinned before following you inside, momentarily staring at your legs and wondering about the strength they held.

“Look.” You said, alarmed at the sight of Arietta’s limp form on the ground.

You knelt down, stunned at the pool of blood by his head, and pressed two fingers to his carotid artery. “He's dead.” You uttered before pulling out your phone and calling it in.

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“M.E. puts the time of Arietta's death between 11:30 and 12:00 this morning.” You said to Natasha as she stood by you, crime techs working the scene methodically.

“Cause was multiple hits with a baseball bat. There are some abrasions on his face, so it looks like he struggled before he died. And I found this.”

“Ooh, what's that?” Natasha cooed like a pirate finding treasure, taking the small device but being careful to keep her fingers on the latex glove around it.

“It's a voice modulator. Hey, can you not do that?” You grumbled as she spoke into it.

“Detective, I am your father.” Her voice came out deeper and incredibly modulated, her chuckle afterwards making you shake your head.

“It's not a toy, Natasha. It could be evidence.”

“Well, I'm impressed. Looks like the priest handled it himself after all.”

“We don't know if the priest did this.”

“Well, maybe you don't.”

“Detective Valeria?” A crime tech called for you at the door just as you were about to get annoyed with Natasha.

You handed off the voice modulator to a crime tech and went to the door, a person waiting for you yet you didn’t wait for Natasha to follow.

“Hey, you're the head counsellor, right?” You said just as Natasha went under the tape.

“Uh, yeah. I’m Eric Doyle.” The man introduced himself, an overweight yet ‘gentle giant’ nature to his stature with a cropped haircut, a grey polo and jeans on whilst a clean watch was clasped on his wrist.

“Any idea who might've done this?” You asked him, folding your arms.

“No. I mean, everyone liked Lenny. He was a good boss.” He replied.

“So, he had no enemies whatsoever, no? Especially any who wear clerical collars?” Natasha snickered lightly at her obvious meaning.

Doyle’s face showed that he recognised the name. “So you know about the priest.”

“Oh, yes.” The devilish woman nodded, excited now that there was another lead in her favour.

“Yeah, that guy's always coming around here and getting into arguments with Lenny. But he's a priest, so… not much I can do about it.” 

“Right. Mr. Doyle, where were you between 11:30 and 12:00 this morning?” You questioned, getting on with it.

“Uh... here. In counselling sessions with, uh, Nikki and Connor.”

“Connor? That's the altar boy from the priest's photo.” Natasha murmured.

Behind you, two officers were keeping away two teenagers. As you approached, you relinquished the officers and asked them for their names. Funnily enough, they were Nikki and Connor.

“So, is it, is it true Mr. Arietta's dead?” Connor asked slowly.

“Well, duh, dumbass.” Nikki scoffed, dressed in very emo-esque clothes, particularly the ‘SKATE OR DIE’ on her shirt next to a Dia de Los Muertos skull.

“It is. Yeah. Did you know him well?” You asked, trying to be gentle.

“A little, I guess. He- he- I mean, he ran the place.” Connor shrugged.

“Do you know if Mr. Arietta was involved in any drug activity?”

“Drugs?” Nikki laughed. “I mean, I wish he was. That would've made him more interesting.”

Natasha chuckled. “Okay. Enough about the dead guy. Tell me everything you know about Padre Pederast.” She pointed at Connor.

“Who?”

“Father Frank. Did you see him do this? Do you think he's capable?” She sighed, annoyed at his young teenage boy's mind for not catching up.

“Father Frank? Kill Mr. Arietta? No. No way.”

Nikki scoffed. “What do you mean "no way"? The guy's a creeper and totally obsessed with you.”

“He's just overprotective. Ever since my parents died, he feels like he's got to watch out for me or something. But he's a good guy. He's just a little... just a little annoying.” Connor shrugged.

“See? Annoying.” Natasha looked at you.

“Mm-hmm.” You lazily answered her. “When was the last time you saw him?”

“Uh, he... Here this morning.” Connor stuttered.

“Yeah, preacher seemed pretty pissed.” Nikki added.

You sighed, thanking the two before you went with Natasha to the station to look up the preacher, using the devil to help ID him visually.

“That's him. Frank Lawrence. The most evil of people have the most normal names, I've experienced. Beware anyone named Keith.” Natasha warned you, to which you nodded sceptically.

“Well, his criminal record's pretty extensive. assault and battery, disorderly conduct, drug charges.”

“See? Not very priest-like.”

“But nothing in the past ten years.” You added, searching the screen to find a very important document. “Ah, a restraining order filed by Lenny Arietta last week.”

“Ah, well, it's funny how Padre Punchy failed to mention a restraining order.” Natasha snickered. “Please tell me now we have enough to bring this priest down.”

“We have enough to bring him in. You ready to go to church?” You grinned, grabbing your jacket.

“Bringing down a priest is the only reason I ever would.” 

“In. Bring him in.”

Natasha rolled her eyes lightly. “Yes, bring him in so we can bring him down. You’re no fun sometimes.”

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In the underground police parking lot, Malcolm stood and waited impatiently for his visitor. “I know you're there. What, are you watching over me? Like my own guardian angel.”

From the shadows, Yelena appeared, expressionless, in a neat blue suit with a white corset top, along with a few simple-banded gold rings on her fingers. 

“Yeah. Grumpy guardian angel.” Malcolm mumbled.

“Forgotten about our deal, Malcolm? Because I brought you back from the dead for a single purpose.” She said, her accent making the man uneasy.

“Yeah, about that, I've... been meaning to ask. Why me?” 

She raised a single eyebrow. “Why you?”

“Yeah. I mean, uh, I must be something special for you to go to all that trouble.” He grinned.

She chuckled darkly. “Don't flatter yourself. You're simply… in a unique position to do what I need done.”

His ego deflated at her words. “'Cause I'm a cop.” 

“That, yeah.” She nodded, circling him. “And because… I know you'll do anything to avoid going back to Hell.”

When she stopped behind him, he stiffened at her breath on his neck. “Now, stop bothering me with these questions and just finish the task I've given you.”

Malcolm stepped forward to get away from her, turning whilst chuckling sheepishly. “Don't you worry your pretty little head. I'm already on it, all right? Everything's going according to plan.”

Yelena began to walk away before she stopped and looked over her shoulder at him. “Don't keep me waiting. Patience…” She chuckled. “She is not one of my virtues.”

Malcolm sighed, closing his eyes. “I promise you, I... I got this.” He stuttered because when he opened his eyes…

Yelena was gone.

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“Miss Valeria, Miss Romanoff, surprised to see you again.”

“Oh, I wouldn't miss this for the world.” Natasha grinned deviously at the priest.

“Father Frank, when was the last time you saw Lenny Arietta?” You asked him, ignoring Natasha’s jokes.

“This morning.”

“Despite the restraining order.”

“I answer to a higher authority.” He argued slightly.

“Not today you don't.” Natasha sang teasingly.

You gave her one glance and she rolled her eyes, putting her hands in her pockets as she let you question the priest. “What happened when you saw him?”

“We exchanged words. Things got a little heated.”

“What were you fighting about?”

“That altar boy of his, of course.” Natasha chuckled.

You ignored Natasha again. “Why were you fighting over Connor?”

“Because I'm worried that Arietta's gonna pull Connor into his drug ring.” He said, the words suspiciously identical to his last reasoning.

“So, what, you give him a right hook?” Natasha smirked, pointing at his bandaged hand.

Father Frank lowered his head. “Sadly, I did.”

“And then what?” You asked, folding your arms.

“And then I left.”

“Ooh, no, no, no, I think you skipped a part, didn't you?” Natasha chimed in. “You know, the part where you beat him to death with a baseball bat?”

“He's dead?” Father Frank asked, shocked. “Oh, Heavenly Father.” He murmured, painting the cross on his chest.

Natasha rolled her eyes (it seems she likes doing that). “Oh, come on. How gullible do you think we are?”

Father Frank shook his head. “I had troubles with the man, but he didn't deserve to die. And I certainly didn't kill him.”

You sighed, trying to de-escalate the situation. “Can you account for your whereabouts between 11:30 and 12:00 this morning?”

Father Frank thought for a moment. “Uh, I was here. Taking confessions. Mrs. Madison had a lot to say, took up the whole hour.”

Natasha sighed. “By chance, does Mrs. Madison have a limo driver?”

The priest looked at her, confused at how she knew that. “She does.”

“Damn. Just spoke to his alibi.” Natasha said to you. 

“You- What?” You muttered.

“The MILF in confession.” She added, pointing to the confession box where a woman stepped out, fixing her ruffled hair and dress as well as her lipstick.

You sighed, poking your finger on the bridge of your nose three times in frustration. “Oh, great. Yeah, as much as I'm sure that followed protocol, I'm still gonna have to question her myself.”

You turned to the priest. “Father, I'm gonna need you to come into the station for a statement.”

After Father Frank collected his jacket and valuables, you and Natasha walked with him outside of the church to your cars. However, your head perked up at the sound of screeching tires, and you spotted a handgun being pointed out of a car window.

“Get down!” You called out, shoving Natasha and Father Frank to the ground before getting down yourself.

A full round unloaded from the gun, a stray bullet hitting the bus stop shelter glass before the driver took off. You jumped up, and though you tried, you could not get a full plate number off of the speeding car. 

“And you wonder why I don't go to church.” Natasha sighed, readjusting her suit and corset top.

After three police vehicles turned up and cornered off the church main entrance as a crime scene, you went inside to talk to some people. You sent a crime tech to search the partial of the plate you had, along with the model of the car before finding Natasha by the pews.

“So I spoke to Father Frank's alibi. Checks out. He was in confession with Mrs. Madison from 11:00 to 12:00. He's not our guy.”

Natasha sighed. “Well, maybe she's lying. I mean, you know the sort of people that go to church. Sinners.” She tried to joke, but you didn’t seem to be in the mood.

“Lab results from the voice modulator came back empty. No prints, no DNA. Whoever did this is good.”

“What, so you think this shooting and the youth director's death are connected?” 

“We know they have at least one thing in common.” You said calmly, walking up to Father Frank as he sat in the front pew.

“Father, you will be relieved to know that no one was injured.” 

“Oh, thank God.” He sighed in relief.

Natasha grumbled. “Please don't.”

You looked sternly at the priest. “Now, Father… this wasn't a random attack. They were shooting at you. But you don't seem surprised. What aren't you telling us?”

He stood whilst pulling out his phone, holding it out and putting it on speaker. “Keep your nose out of our business or else.” A distorted voice came through before the voicemail ended.

“The voice modulator from Arietta's office. You should have gone to the police with this.” You scolded lightly.

“I assumed it was Arietta, and I'm not afraid of him. But if it's The Spider…” Father Frank trailed off.

“Spider?”

“I've heard whispers of another dealer trying to take over Arietta's business. People call him ‘The Spider.’ Scary, violent reputation.”

“Do you know who this Spider is?”

“I don't.”

You studied him for a moment. His eyes couldn’t meet yours and his shaking head showed fear. “You're holding something back, Father. I can tell.”

“I have a confession to make.” He hurried out.

“Finally!” Natasha cheered. “Well, the truth will set you free... isn't that what your beloved book says?”

“I lied when I said Connor was in danger of becoming involved. He already is. Dealing for Arietta.”

“What, that's it? Oh, please don't tell me that's what you've been holding back all this time.” The redhead looked disappointed.

“Wait. If Connor's already in deep, why go to all this trouble to protect him?” You asked.

“He's had it rough. Thinks he can only rely on himself. He's a good kid, Detective. There's still hope for him.”

You shook your head. “Father, you were today's target. We need to worry about your safety first. Do you have a place to stay? We can offer police protection.”

“I'm fine right here. This... is my sanctuary.” He sighed, sitting back down.

“Well, your sanctuary just got shot to high heaven, Padre.” Natasha chuckled. “But if you're looking to lay low, I believe I know just the place.”

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Natasha smirked at Father Frank as he sat in the same booth he met the devil in, strippers dancing in front of them dressed as nuns… initially. They had kept the veils and coifs on, but underneath was nothing but dark red lingerie as they danced to Do Ya Thang Girl by DJ Jubilee.

“Thought this might make you feel more at home, you know.” Natasha smirked at the priest as she sipped on her scotch.

“Sure you did.” Father Frank chuckled.

You walked past the strippers and into the booth, sliding in next to Natasha. “Hey.” You greeted her, to which she gave you a gentle smile.

“Malyshka.” She greeted you back.

“So, partial plates from the shooter's SUV came back with a couple matches. But this is interesting, one of them was recently reported stolen outside the youth center.” 

“Oh, so you think someone inside's responsible.”

“I think it's too much of a coincidence not to be, but I ordered traffic cam footage, so hopefully it'll show us who was driving.”

“Hopefully.” Natasha grinned, her eyes falling onto the stripper in front of her.

Your eyes even had a little wander before returning to the task at hand. “Couldn't resist, huh?”

“Well, the man deserves some fun.” The devil grinned.

“Or you still want to prove he's a hypocrite.

“Well, what can I say? Temptation's in my nature.” 

Natasha’s eyes fell onto yours and you held her gaze for a moment. In that moment, you felt safe, like being in this lustful partying bar was the safest place on Earth purely because Natasha was there.

“Hmm. And how's that working out for you?” You grinned, looking at Father Frank.

His head was nodding along to the music, his hand tapping on his thigh. Natasha seemed confused by his clear delight at the sensual song. “Padre, does this not bother you?”

“What can I say? I love this song.” Father Frank chuckled.

As the night dragged on, the three of you were having a wonderful time. You even had a drink with them, Natasha ‘accidentally’ making herself sit on your right whilst Father Frank was on your left, keeping you safe.

“You sure you're gonna be okay in here, Father?” You asked, the case coming to the forefront of your mind.

“This? Oh, absolutely. I grew up in places like this.” He excused.

“Oh, I find that hard to believe.” Natasha snickered, sipping on a new whiskey flavour.

He shook his head at her before his posture looked like he was starting a story. “No one's born a priest. Before the cloth, I was just Frank Lawrence, a touring musician.”

“Really? Let me guess... cowbell.” She replied.

“Close. Piano. Good old rock and roll. Opened for Dylan, Bowie, the Stones…”

“The Rolling Stones?”

“Yep. It was a crazy time, let me tell you.” Father Frank chuckled. “I was a lot like you, really.”

As Natasha finished her whiskey, she shook her head with a wry smile. “That's literally impossible.”

“Thought the fun would never stop.” He sighed, a sad expression filling his eyes. “Then, uh…”

“Father, you don't have to…” You murmured, putting a comforting hand on top of his injured hand’s wrist.

“No, no, no, no. Go on.” Natasha interjected.

The priest nodded, giving you a comforting smile. “Car accident. Ten years ago. I was travelling with Connor and his family. Uh, Connor's dad was a drummer, we used to play together. Another car swerved into our lane and, uh… Connor lost both his parents that night.”

Your expression fell into a remorseful one. You couldn’t imagine losing someone like that. 

“My daughter was with us, too. She didn't make it, either.”

Let alone your child.

“Thought I'd seen some dark days. Nothing compared to losing my little girl. My heart just... cracked right open.”

His whole body went still. His eyes didn’t blink, his chest barely moved. The memories were as fresh as yesterday’s breakfast for him, even if they were a decade ago.

“That pain…” You muttered, shaking your head. “I’m so sorry, Father.”

“Well, you must have been awfully angry at your beloved God.” Natasha said, a slight anger to her tone but not directed at Father Frank.

“I was so... untethered. Lost. Turning to Him is what saved me.” He replied, wearing a fake but gentle smile.

“So... hold on. God stole your spawn and then you decided to worship Him?”

“I can't really explain it, but somehow it made me feel that she was safe. That's when I discovered my faith. The church gave me purpose. It was there that I crossed paths with Connor again. Me, a parent without a child; him, a child without a parent.”

You smiled softly. “You connected with him.”

He nodded. “We might not always understand it, but God has a plan.”

Natasha sighed. “Yes. I know. But why does everybody always think it's a good plan?”

Suddenly, your phone began to ring and you cleared your throat from the emotion that Father Frank’s story had brought up. “Please excuse me, Father.”

He nodded, though you didn’t need his permission, and you left to take the phone call. 

“So, can we just go back to this absurd notion that you and I are in any way similar?” Natasha asked.

“You're right. We're not.”

“Thank you!”

“I'm probably a much better piano player than you are.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow before she looked around the club. Her piano was in the centre of the floor but it was too packed and loud for the two. She turned to the human bartender and told him that she’d be upstairs if you needed her.

“Well come on then, Padre. Let’s test your silly theory.” She smirked, leading him up to the penthouse.

Of course, she let Father Frank play first, his fingers dancing over the keys with the practised grace of an experienced player; though, Knocking on Heaven’s Door wasn’t wonderful for her ears.

“D-Do you know anything that doesn't make me want to, you know, impale myself? Like, uh... Something more upbeat. Something a bit, um... I mean, like, uh…” She shrugged, sitting down on the top side of the piano seat.

Immediately, she grinned as a song came to mind, playing a wilder melody of Mess Around by Ray Charles.

“Oh. I think I know what you mean.” Father Frank matched her grin, beginning to play the bottom side of the song in a similar jive and rhythm.

“Something like that?”

“Yeah.” She smirked.

“Okay.”

As they played, Natasha was impressed. “Father has got soul.”

“You ain't seen nothing yet.”

“Oh? Would you like to take the top?”

“Why not? Excuse me.”

As they swiftly swapped places, with Father Frank playing a glissando up the keys whilst Natasha spun around him to sit on the bottom side, she laughed heartily. 

Though she wouldn’t admit it aloud, she was having fun with this soulful priest.

It was then that you appeared in the elevator, though neither of them noticed. You were happily surprised by the sight before you, tapping your finger in your pocket to the rhythm as you came to lean on the bar beside the piano. After a few more seconds of playing, Natasha noticed you out of the corner of her eye and immediately stopped playing.

“Oh.” Father Frank chuckled, looking between the two of you.

“Hi.” Natasha said after clearing her throat, putting her stoic face back on.

“Hi.” You greeted softly, giving her a knowing warm smile as if to say ‘I caught you having fun with the priest, hypocrite’.

Natasha cleared the air with her shrug. “Yeah, well, I suppose that wasn't completely terrible.” She directed at Father Frank.

“Not completely.” He laughed, patting her shoulder gently.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but Father Frank's story about The Spider checks out, and I got a lead so we should go.” You said, looking at Natasha.

She nodded and grabbed her jacket, patting Father Frank’s shoulder. “Well, you stay here. You need the practice.”

And the two of you left with the priest’s hearty laugh echoing in the penthouse.

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Upon exit of your car into a hidden skate park, you walked beside Natasha and mentally noted how she scanned the premises. “I talked to Narcotics and one of their CI's said The Spider's rumoured to hang out here.”

“Well, I don't know why you had to bring me along.” She said.

“What, are you anxious to get back to your new friend?” You teased.

She scoffed. “Please. The Devil friends with a priest? That's absurd.”

“It's absurdly adorable. You know, it's okay to admit you like the guy.”

“He's everything that I stand against, Detective.” 

“Yeah, well, sometimes we get along best with the people we're most different from.” You shrugged.

As you scanned the place, Natasha observed you. You looked tired, a bit frazzled even. when she saw a man looking at your ass, she took a step towards you, glaring at him with the fury of a thousand suns.

If only her eyes were glowing. That would shock him into being a decent member of society.

“Look.” You said, pulling her out of her glare to look through the crowd.

“Oh. Little Miss Sunshine from the youth center.” She chuckling.

“Yeah, Nikki.”

“What's that she's doing?”

You watched her hands move swiftly between people before sighing. “Drug deal. And a smooth one. Maybe she's The Spider.”

“Ooh, black widow, then. Lovely.” Natasha grinned, about to stride forward and confront her but you held her back.

“Wait. She's giving it to someone else.” You muttered, pulling her back.

You pressed up against her chest, trying to minimise your visibility from Nikki. Natasha looked down at you, perplexed, her cheeks a little red as she tried to keep it down.

“To Connor.” You realised, seeing the boy accept the money from Nikki.

Then his eyes fell on you. With fear or rage or something in his eyes, he pulled out a gun and shot into the ceiling, sending the crowd into a frenzy.

“Get down!” You yelled, pulling out your own.

Though the crowd was working against you as you tried to squeeze through a gap between the people rushing out of the fenced skate ramp and the fence itself. You raced through the back door where Nikki and Connor went through, but the alley was empty.

“Gone. Great.” You sighed, putting your gun back in your holster.

“Why was the black widow giving her cash to altar boy?” Natasha asked, checking the alleyway with her glowing eyes as you checked your ringing phone.

“You never want to carry dr*gs and money on you at the same time. Makes you a target.” You opened your phone. “Or because Connor's The Spider.”

Natasha stopped glowing her eyes, satisfied that nobody was nearby, and looked back at you. 

“Traffic cam footage.” You showed her your phone, a clear photo of Connor in the driver’s seat with a gun in hand.

“Ah, from the church shooting. So the boy the priest was trying to protect is the one who tried to kill him? Well, isn't that an ironic kick in the cassock?”

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When you returned to Lux, Father Frank was evidently shocked at the news by the way his hands shook whilst he held your tablet in his hands. “This doesn't prove Connor's The Spider.” He said firmly, giving you back the tablet which had Connor’s photos on it.

“It's pretty damning, Father. And it's enough for the APB that just went out. Connor's been declared armed and dangerous.”

“Armed and dangerous? The boy needs to be helped, convinced to turn himself in.”

“Father, he shot at you. He fired into a room full of kids.”

“Yes, but he shot up, didn't he?”

You sighed, knowing he felt for this kid as if he was his son. “We'll do everything we can to bring him in peacefully. I promise you that.”

Father Frank sighed too. “If you'll excuse me, I... need some air.”

Natasha wandered over with three drinks of whiskey in her hands, offering to the priest but denied. She then turned to you, smiling gently. “Drink, malyshka?”

You shook your head. “I have some digging to do. Will you watch over him until I get back?”

“What?” She huffed. “You want me to babysit the priest?”

You smirked as you retreated into the elevator. “I babysit you all the time.”

Natasha mumbled grumpily to herself as she walked towards her balcony, standing right next to Father Frank as he held a cigarette in the other hand.

“Need a light?” She offered.

He chuckled dryly. “No, thanks. Quit years ago. Still enjoy the ritual, though. Always keep one on me.”

She nodded, putting her lighter back in her pocket. “Please tell me you didn't come out here to talk to Him.”

“God? Why not? This is as good a spot as any.”

Natasha laughed, shaking her head. “Right.” She did pause though, looking at him with curiosity. “Does He, uh... does He ever talk back?”

He was quiet before answering. “I don't need to hear Him to... hear Him. If you know what I mean.”

“Well, yes, He never talks to me, either. Listen, um…” She said to quickly change topics. “Sorry about the altar boy. Surely you know you're not to blame. I mean, some people are just... beyond saving.”

“That's where you're wrong. There's still hope for him.”

She sipped on her drink, giving him a doubtful expression. “He shot up your church, he's most likely running a drug ring behind your back, and, oh, yes, killed a man.”

“I don't believe that.” Father Frank countered.

“Look, what if it's true?”

“Then he needs me even more.”

She scoffed, looking at him like he was a freak. “How can you still have faith in this boy?”

“God has faith in him. In all of us. Even in our darkest moments.”

“Oh, you really believe that.” 

“I do.” He answered back quickly. “Why don't you?”

Her face fell stoic once again. “Because He didn't have faith in me.”

“Hmm.I felt that way once, too. But now I know, deep in my heart, God has a plan for me.”

“Oh, His plan for me was quite clear.” She scoffed, glaring at the cloudy sky for a moment.

“How do you know it's finished?” The priest chuckled.

Natasha stood there in silence, pondering his words and views. In her head, it possibly made sense that the plan for her wasn’t over. But the hatred and betrayal in her heart threw that thought into the garbage disposal, hoping that it could be as easily forgotten as it was learned.

“Excuse me. One of my parishioners, uh, a lot of them are still upset about the shooting.” Father Frank held up his phone.

Yeah. Don’t… Don’t worry about it.” She muttered, leaning on the balcony as he entered the elevator to take the phone call.

Pressing the ground button with determination on his face.

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After finding out Father Frank was no longer in Natasha’s custody, you quickly drove to the club and found Natasha.

“Why would he do that? Why would he just run away?” You scoffed, collecting the devil to the bar.

“Wanda, the priest, have you seen him?” Natasha asked the demon at the bar doing stocktake.

“So you're talking to me now?” She said bitterly.

Natasha glanced at you before glaring her glowing eyes at Wanda. “Have you seen him?!”

Wanda relinquished and bowed her head slightly, just enough for Natasha to be pleased and stop glowing her eyes. “He was down here on his phone. Heard him talking to someone named Connor. He left to go meet him.”

“He left? Where to?” You asked, though Wanda ignored you.

“Maybe he's trying to convince Connor to turn himself in.” You said to Natasha.

“No. He's probably trying to hide the little miscreant. Put his faith in God, not the police.” She scoffed.

“Why do you care about a priest?” Wanda sneered.

“I don't.” Natasha bit back, tempted to glow her eyes again.

“Where would he hide him? Where would he hide Connor?” You muttered to yourself.

“Somewhere he considers safe, I assume.” The devil shrugged.

It clicked in your head. “Sanctuary.”

You stormed out to your car, thankful that the valet hadn’t moved it, and jumped into the driver’s seat. You kept your lights and sirens off, and drove quietly along the street to the church.

“Malysh.” Natasha said quietly, trying to steady your shaking hand by putting hers on top. “Are you sure it’s a good idea for you to get involved with a shooting again? Jimmy did a number on your shoulder.”

You looked over at her briefly before driving, though not moving her hand from yours. “I’ll be okay. I did some extra exercises at the department.”

“Okay.” She said, though still worried.

As you stepped out of the car, you stormed up the stairs and pulled Natasha in behind you. “Behind me, always. You are not getting shot on my watch.”

You leaned in by the window of the front entrance door, seeing Father Frank with his hands in the air, with Connor pointing a gun at him. You snuck in quietly through the door, crouching to the floor so that you were no higher than the pews.

“You don't want to do this. I know you. This isn't you.” Father Frank reasoned with Connor.

“Sorry, I don't have a choice, okay? I have to do this.”

“I get it. You don't think you can rely on anyone else to survive... but you're not alone. I'm here for you, whenever you need me, son.”

“I don't need you! Okay? I don't need anybody!” He said, with a strained tone to his voice.

“Go on, then, shoot the altar boy.” Natasha murmured in your ear. “In the leg or something, obviously.” She added after you shushed her.

“Just do it, Connor. Pull the damn trigger already.” A voice said before a familiar face came from the right side of the church.

“That's Eric Doyle. That's our Spider.” You realised.

“The counsellor.” Natasha muttered.

“You know, Nikki… I trust her. But you? I think you're too attached to this preacher. You're gonna have to show me that you're not.” Doyle spoke to Connor, like a devil on his shoulders.

“No shot from here.” You told Natasha, moving closer to the scene.

“I know you, Connor. That drive-by, you intentionally missed me, didn't you?” Father Frank asked calmly.

“Stop talking. Please.” Connor whimpered, his hand shaking around the gun.

Doyle sighed. “Make him stop talking. It's really easy.”

“You couldn't do it then, and you don't want to do it now. God's giving you a second chance right here.” The priest whispered, trying to coax the boy towards him.

“E-Enough with the sermon, preacher! Connor, just shoot this son-of-a-bitch already.” The Spider huffed.

“Just follow your heart, son. I have faith in you.”

You slowly crept behind the front pew, gun in hand and eyes lasered onto Connor’s gun.

With a few trembling breaths and shaky hands, Connor lowered it and faced Eric. “I can't do it, Doyle. I'm sorry.” He said, dropping the gun.

Doyle sighed. “I'm sorry, too, kid. I can't allow weakness, not when I've just taken control.” 

As he pulled out a gun, Father Frank pulled Connor backwards and behind him, stepping in front.

“No!” He yelled as Doyle fired the gun.

Straight into his heart.

You shot Doyle in the stomach, rendering him useless as you kicked away his gun. He wouldn’t die, though he would hurt. 

“Hands up. Get down on the ground.” You told Connor, trying to be firm but gentle as he did exactly as you asked.

“Father!” Natasha yelled, rushing to his side. “No, no, no, you idiot! The bloody hell were you thinking?!” 

“This is Unit 831 at St. Morgan's Church. We need two ambos, code 4.” You called into your phone, putting the phone down but letting it continue.

“Don't go anywhere, you moron!” Natasha growled at Father Frank, his suit quickly becoming sticky with blood as she put pressure on the front and back of his chest.

“It's okay. I'm not afraid of dying.” Father Frank muttered, spitting out some blood.

“Well, you should be. It's really boring where you're headed.” She said, pulling off her jacket and pressing it against his chest.

“I hope so. I've had enough excitement for one life.” He chuckled.

“Stop talking like that. You've got more to do here. You've got more people to annoy.” She said, her voice becoming shaky.

“Pressure on the wound, Natasha.” You told her, keeping your gun facing Doyle.

“I am!” She growled. “Just come on, Frank, stay with me, stay with me.”

He groaned as she adjusted him in her grip, time ticking by as all they could do was wait for an ambulance. Natasha had no first aid experience, and you didn’t have any equipment necessary for such a wound.

“Oh, uh... at first… I didn't understand why God put you in my path. But then it hit me.” He chuckled, blood spilling onto the cuffs of Natasha’s long sleeve shirt.

“Maybe... He put me in yours.”

“I… highly doubt it. He gave up on me a long time ago.”

“You're wrong, Natasha. Remember… your father... ha-has- has a plan.”

“My father?” She asked, confused.

“Yeah.”

She realised what he meant. “You know?”

Lightning flashed and thunder clapped above the church as she looked at the blood spilling beneath Father Frank. Though when she went to speak to him again, his eyes were in the back of his head, lying limply.

“Frank? Frank!” She yelled, still keeping pressure on the wound.

Though it was futile. 

“Frank.” She whispered, lying him down on the ground.

Tears pricked her eyes as she closed his, looking up at the ceiling briefly before her sadness became anger. Frank was a good man, a loving father figure to Connor, but someone preyed on him.

“Natasha…” You murmured, trying to get her attention.

She looked over her shoulder at Doyle, blood seeping into his shirt and zip-up hoodie. “Time to pull the legs off The Spider.” She seethed as she walked over, picked him up and held him two feet off the ground by her hand around his neck.

“Natasha, stop!” You yelled as Doyle choked.

“Why did you do this?”

“I don't know.”

“Why?”

“He was bringing too much heat!”

“Why?! WHY?!”

Doyle’s choking began to grow quiet, his hands weakly scratching at Natasha’s hand on his neck.

Natasha, stop. Father Frank wouldn't want this.” You said, your breath shaky as you saw the scorned woman.

“Stop.”

She yelled out in anguish and let Doyle drop to the floor, not caring for his safety as his legs crumpled beneath him and he gasped for air.

You quickly came to her, holstering your gun as ambulance and police arrived outside. “Natasha…”

Her whole body went still. Her eyes didn’t blink, and her chest barely moved.

You watched her retreat out of the church towards the crime techs, speaking her part of the scene before you did the same. After what seemed like half an hour, you watched Natasha leave the scene in her car, with one of her valets at the wheel.

⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖

Resting at home with Steve on the couch beside you, you turned the TV off and sighed. Steve, I know I wanted to talk, but, um... my mind, it's just…”

“Somewhere else?” He murmured, looking at you with a small smile.

“Yeah.”

He sighed. “Yeah, mine, too.”

“Can we do this another time?” You asked, smiling softly.

“Yeah. No problem, Y/N.” He answered, gently kissing your forehead.

He agreed to stay at the house to watch Peggy whilst you drove to Lux. You had seen the emotion in Natasha’s face, how hard her heart had shattered when Frank died. 

As you entered the club, you smiled at the security guards who knew you by memory now. You casually made your way to the elevator, dressed in your work clothes but jacket in hand. As it opened, you smiled gently as the keys to Knocking On Heaven’s Door played from the piano.

You watched her for a moment, listening to how she played. The liquor in her glass told you she’d been there either for a moment or for hours, since there was a bottle beside the glass.

You were tempted to hum along but instead put your jacket down and walked over to her, leaning over her shoulder to get her attention.

She immediately stopped playing and looked at you - with every ounce of attention she had. 

“Hi.” You said softly, your hair hanging down like a beautiful waterfall for the redhead to admire.

She didn’t know what to say for a little while, but when you sat beside her on the piano chair she spoke. “Bit late for a new case, isn't it?”

You laughed quietly, shaking your head. “I'm not here for a case. I'm here for you.”

“Oh. Really?” She smirked, leaning slightly towards you as she tried to use her mojo.

“Yeah. Thought you could use a friend.” You murmured, gently brushing some hair out of her face with a focused expression before looking at her again.

She exhaled softly before clearing her throat. “Do you play?”

“Mm. No. No, I don't.” You replied with a light smirk.

“Come on, you must know something.” She insisted.

“No. Uh... All right, well... let me see. I had three years of lessons… and this is all I remember.” You said, beginning to play the melody to Heart and Soul.

Natasha laughed heartily. “Surely, you must be joking.”

You stopped, shaking your head at her with a cheeky grin before playing again. To Natasha, you had the funniest little expression of focus, your eyes carefully looking at the keys to remember.

“Alright, then.” She muttered, beginning to play the accompaniment to it.

Through the night, you sipped on her drink and she gladly refilled it when necessary. Fatigued and warm from both the alcohol and Natasha, she took you to her bed and let you rest in it for the night.

“Goodnight, malyshka.” She gently kissed your forehead, heading out to her balcony for a smoke.

She looked out onto the marvellous landscape of the city, lifting her lighter to the end of her cigarette but it would not light. In frustration, she threw the lighter off of the balcony, not caring who or what it hit when it landed.

She glared up at the sky. "You... you cruel, manipulative bastard! Was this all part of Your plan? It's all just a game to You, isn't it? Well, I know punishment, and he did not deserve this." She gestured to her sleeves and the bottom of her shirt, covered in blotches of Father Frank's blood.

"He followed Your stupid rules and it still wasn't fucking good enough! So what does it take to please You? Break Your rules and you fall! Follow them and you still lose?! Doesn't matter whether you're a sinner! Doesn't matter whether you're a saint! Nobody can win, so what's the point?!"

She leaned her elbows on the balcony railing, her head folding down into her chest. "What's the fucking point?"

⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖

As midnight struck across town in a 24/7 diner, Malcolm sat with six plates of food around him and two empty milkshake glasses, another only half-full.

“Enjoying the life I gave you?” Yelena’s deep voice popped up from next to him, giving him a fright.

“Hey... did food taste this good before I died? ‘Cause I don't remember it being this friggin' delicious.” He chuckled, the angel beside him looking him straight in the eye.

“I don't care what you're doing with your new life, Malcolm... except for what I've asked of you. What's taking so long?” She questioned lightly, like she was his friend.

“Come on, come on, chill out, Yelenalady. Here, have some waffles.” He smirked, sliding over a plate of three waffles with strawberries and cream piled on top, though slightly melted.

After a flash of lightning outside, she was whispering right in his ear in a taunting voice. “Do you want to go back, Malcolm? Because I can make that happen.”

She watched the fear in his posture grow, his appetite slowing as he held a burger up to his mouth but didn’t bite it. “Yes… you're remembering it now, aren't you? I bet your 30 seconds in Hell felt like 30 years.”

Her voice became stern. “Imagine what eternity would feel like.”

“I'm sorry. Okay? Sorry. Look… I got it. An untraceable gun. It won't come back to me. I'm ready now.” He stammered out, showing a small pistol that had been removed from evidence, still in its bag.

“Good.” She smiled, patting his shoulder gently.

He cleared his throat. “So who do you want me to kill again?” 

“Her name... is Natasha Romanoff.”

#smalls words #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasharomanoff angst #natasharomanoffxyn #natasharomanoff x reader #natasharomanoffimagine #natasharomanoff #devil of my word #domw au #devil!natasha romanoff #detective!reader

[heard-nsfw-is-back]

you step on COD folks

Ghost: fucking loves it. He loves seeing you gleeful and powerful. You don't push him hard but fuck the thought of you going feral and stepping on him sends him to a frenzy.

Soap: wants you to step on him but you feel bad and you both try kicking him around pushing him down with your knees and boots or heels whichever you felt like wearing. He loves it and quickly becomes a babbling drooling mess

Price: this is a top y'all but mention it and he'll get you your favorite shoes and worship your legs and shoes and you'll get soft and fuzzy and he'll just smirk and pull you down and get you ✨️there✨️

Rudy: now he won't step on you or let you step on him but he will absolutely adore you being in charge. Big ol switch energy. Murmurs worship in to your hips and legs and massages any tension out. Anything for his god/dess

Alejandro: occasionally bottoms, just to keep it fresh. But he teases you the whole time. "Look at you trying to be all big and in charge my prince/ss. It's so sweet. Is this you calling the shots my love?" You try to kick him down, he lets you but will catch your leg between his. Anything you do in that position he craves.

Gaz: soft.dom. He undresses you and you try to be a bit more aggressive and push your foot in to his shoulder he just chuckles and kisses your ankle. "I know sweet thing. Let me take care of you."

König: oh fuck yes. Mark him down as scared and horny. This man will all but beg you to kick him around. Mark him. Put him in his place. He's quite literally so turned on it's endearing and sexy. Actually he is not above begging. "Please my love, my light be rougher. Be mean. I love it. I love you""

Valeria: you try to engage the conversation. You understand that she's in charge. She calls the shots. But she'll concede because you're interested in trying and she sees nothing wrong in you trying something new. You try to push her back from her kneeling position but she bites at your heel. "Harder my baby. You can do it. Like you mean it." Absolutely tops the whole time, even makes it seem like it was her idea the whole time.

Laswell: don't even think about it. She'll see you looking at videos or reading about it somewhere and bends you over her table. She leans down and whispers in your ear about how wrong you are. "You're my play thing. My toy. I tell you what to do and where to be. You're not in charge here are you baby?" Your legs turn to jelly and you plead through the haze in your mind. You beg her to be rougher and she laughs and pulls you to your knees where you belong.

Hey now I'm... hey is the heater still on I'm. Fidjskxkxihelpme

#cod mw2 #call of duty #modern warfare smut #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john price #alejandro cod #alejandro vargas #kyle gaz garrick #rodolfo parra #valeria cod #valeria garza #kate laswell

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

Snippets part 4

“Delacroix, I'm in possession of a remote to your anklet. It's recording my emotions, so don't try manipulating me, and it's calibrated to me and Valeria, so don't bother stealing it. Even if you somehow manage to do so, Mr Pullman has a second controller that will override it. Any attempts to destroy the anklet will cause a high voltage shock that will disable you and possibly kill you. If you attempt to sabotage the mission or attack either of us, I'll activate a shock,” he told me bluntly.

A threat? Or a warning not to upset them? I trusted Baker not to hurt me for revenge, but that didn't apply to Chong. The hurt in her eyes ran deep, a river that would gleefully sweep me up and drown me. I nodded. “Good,” he said. “Now that we understand each other, I'll deactivate the anti-magic effect on you. Ready?” 

My eyes widened, and I felt the urge to do a happy dance. I snuck a quick glance at Baker, and instantly I forced a dampener on my smile. Under his stoicism, he bore a look of weary sadness and reluctance. Celebrating was against rules of the pity party they were hosting, and cheering was going to get me booted out the window. I nodded firmly and said, “Yes, sir.”

He closed his eyes and pressed a button on the remote. And by the gods, I could feel again! It was like someone had locked me in a pitch black room for a week and finally let me out into the light, and I was ecstatic. Blinded and overwhelmed, but ecstatic. Emotions pressed against me, personalities blossomed into halos, dancing tentacles like jellyfish auras spreading out. 

The little ball of focus and contentment was the outfitter. Chong's grief and rage pulsated from the left, and the tightly coiled fury of Baker throbbed at my right. I almost flinched when I felt it. I had thought him less upset than Chong; dear dead gods, I was wrong. The hatred within him was held back by an iron will of a dam, and it was threatening to overflow. He hated me for joking, for pretending to be a person when I killed his friend. I caught glimpses of him and Dave. They were friends from childhood, bosom buddies ripped from each other's arms by fate and cruel, cruel me.

Now, I need you to understand that I don't normally do this. I don't break into tears in a fit of empathy. But my psychic sense was far, far too sensitive, and I wept for him like a little idiot, and fell to my knees, consumed by the passion Baker would not feel.

“Delacroix, are you okay?” Chong stared at me, utterly apathetic. If anything, she was mildly pleased. Beside her, however, Baker radiated contentment. He wanted to see me suffer with such a vitriolic rage, even if he wouldn't do anything to harm me directly. I made a note never to be in a situation where I was relying on him and him alone. (Actually, I made a note to run away from him as soon as possible.)

“Ye- Yes,” I said, making a show of clutching my head and acting as though the release had hurt me. “It's just a bit of a shock.” I stood up unsteadily, and dampened the input from Baker. “By the way, Mr Baker?”

Baker turned, and I felt the cold clamp of his discipline control the flood of bloodlust. I twitched slightly. “Yes, Delacroix?”

“Thank you,” I said, putting as much emotion as I could (without alerting the sensors, of course) into my voice. “And I'm sorry. I know it doesn't make up for anything, but I'm sorry.” I bowed my head in faux regret. (Of course, I didn't actually mean any of it. Why would I regret killing a man when he would have gleefully killed me? The world was harsh. People died. It was a lot more important that I survived than that someone else did. But I said it anyway because these righteous sorts lapped apologies up. Somehow it didn't occur to any of them that I was a pathological liar and manipulator. It was rather sad, to be honest.)

Instantly, I felt both Chong and Baker soften. Baker swallowed his grief, locking it back under his self-control, and said, “Thank you too, Delacroix.” People like you seeing the error of your ways is the reason I signed up for this job. Dave would have been glad to hear it, he thought. I really needed that reminder of why I joined the mercenaries today. Dave, I promise I won't kill this girl for revenge. I'm not as good a person as you thought I was, but I will try my best. I'll try my best to be honourable.

And I'd try my best to stay alive, I thought. Even if it meant lying to good people. In fact, especially if it meant lying to good people. There were a lot of worse and harder ways to make a living.

#writeblr #my writing #writing #creative writing #writerscommunity #fantasy #spilled ink #writing community #writers on tumblr #writing a novel #novel writing #my novel #writing snippet #Snippet of my novel #Yeah Luna's not a good person #But she's gonna get character development whether she likes it or not

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

About me and my blog

Hello all,

I hope you find the below information helpful (thank you to @thegayhimbo for providing a template on how to do this)

Below you will mostly find information on my writing but I want you to know who you're following so I'll let you know a little about me too.

All about me

I'm a twenty-four-year-old woman living in wonderful Australia (AEST). I have had this blog for a very long time but only became active over the last three years and only started writing early last year. I'm also busy studying to get a bachelor's in a helping profession. I have a dog and a cat and I love them more than anything.

My blog

First and foremost, please don't follow me if you're under the age of 18. I don't want you here, especially considering the content of what I post. I do not make exceptions even if you coming to talk to me about something that is safe for work.

I am passionate about many social issues and will share posts about them from time to time. I have been told from knee-high that I'm opinionated and I'm very happy to share said opinions. Bigots of any shape will be blocked.

I love talking to people about their passion, ideas and thoughts so if you're having to urge to info dump about anything, please say hello.

My writing

Main Masterlist

I write for lots of fandoms for both men and women. I do both reader and OC although I'm moving towards OC more and more. I only do requests very rarely, mostly for milestones. I prefer to use canon as a starting point and most of my work deviates very heavily.

What I write:

One shots Series Fluff Smut Angst

I write for:

Sons of Anarchy

Jax Teller Lyla Winston

Mayans M.C.

Guero Manny Angel Reyes EZ Reyes

Law & Order: SVU

Terry Bruno Joe Velasco Mike Duarte

The Punisher

Karen Page Billy Russo Frank Castle

Call of Duty (Video Games)

Simon 'Ghost' Riley Valeria Garza Phillip Graves Kate Laswell

The Gentleman

Raymond Smith

Peaky Blinders

Alfie Solomons John Shelby

Gangs of London

Sean Wallace

Many of my fics have very dark themes, and I fully believe that fiction should be used to explore the worst parts of humanity. However, it needs to be done well.

I will not write:

Any form of violence against women for the sole purpose of furthering a man's story. Violence against animals or children. Sexual assault smut. All my smut heavily features enthusiastic and mutual consent

General things for readers

I am more than happy to talk about my work, I will give spoilers and talk about my process if you want. Just ask!!!

I have a tag list and I'm happy to add you but if you are inactive for five posts, I will remove you.

You are under no obligation to read my work so please do not struggle through anything.

This is a hobby and I do this for free, I do this for myself so I'm happy to receive feedback but please don't complain.

Comments and reblogs are loved and cherished.

Thank you for reading this far, I wish you fun on your journey through my blog.

#sp talks

[ghouljams]

Valeria? Valeria?

I've been summoned and I'm on my knees for more Valeria. Pleasepleaseplease.

I'd give my left foot for more.

You're on your knees in front of her, head tipped back, her thumb pressing against your tongue, holding your mouth open. It's very important you don't have any blood on your teeth, that you look nice for her. Otherwise people might catch on to your purpose.

"Clean," She tells you with a smile, you close your lips around her thumb and suck. Always eager for her praise. Some days it seems you're the only one she gives it to. You've worked very hard to be her pet, you'd hate to disappoint her.

The fae behind you clean up the body you'd torn apart, one of Valeria's seconds briefing her on the latest debt exchanges, the latest blah blah blah. You're focused on licking Valeria's fingers clean. Dragging your tongue along each digit, pulling any traces of the former Court fae off her skin. Impressionable magic, contact transfers, handshakes.

The tight grip Valeria had on the Court Fae's hair when she'd pulled his head up from the floor, crouched to make sure they could see her as they drew their final breath. You lick the tang of blood from her palm until she pulls her hand away to check your work. You wait, feeling your ties to her vibrate with satisfaction. It's a good show for the other fae in the room, but you know she's pleased with your work. She usually is.

She hooks a clean finger under your collar and pulls you to your feet. Her approval is the only reward you need, but... "Later," she promises low against your ear, "we'll put your mouth to better use."

#valeria x reader #valeria cod #valeria x you #el sin nombre #I don't know the Valeria tags tbh #x reader #cod x reader #ah to be the pet of a powerful woman who will absolutely wreck my shit #hey thanks for letting me be a freak for this woman #I want her to lead me around like a dog #jk or am i #fae!Valeria #valeria garza

[sky-is-the-limit]

I'm on my hands and knees crying, PLEASE we need more Valeria works in this fandom. My little wlw heart can't take it anymore

Send in a specific scenario babe and I got you covered 😚✂️

#ask #would pay with a kidney to have that woman dominate me #I'm so tired writing about men all the time #valeria garza #cod