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sexlapis · 1 year ago

Text

- house decor

꩜ nanami x reader

synopsis: you & nanami go home decor shopping and your methods for choosing furniture are…interesting to say the least.

suggestive, heavy sex implications, crack fic, fluff, gender neutral!reader, nanami & reader are married, reader embarrassing nanami

a/n: inspired by this tiktok video ^_^

masterlists

you do not enjoy shopping.

the bustling crowd, the loud, busy atmosphere, the blinding strain of artificial light and constantly moving around on your feet for hours on end when you desired the comfort of your home.

you do not enjoy shopping.

unfortunately for you, your newly wedded husband nanami did and being the good partner you are, you willingly put aside your mild discomfort to make him happy.

it’s so difficult being a good, loving and caring partner for your husband, really.

after shoving all of your previous shopping in the trunk of the car, relief floods you. finally, this day is over. it’s only 4pm and a long, cosy afternoon nap awaits at home.

instead, nanami waits beside the car, holding his hand out for you to hold. “come on. we still have one more place left.”

“what!” you groan. “i thought that was the last one!”

“nu-uh. just this one and we’re all done for the day.”

grumbling, you place your hand in his. nanami smiles softly at you and your frustrations ease just a little.

he drags you along the buzzing car park all the way to a large, furniture store.

furniture, huh?

“oh! furniture shopping!” you gleam, a mischievous glint in your eyes that nanami fails to notice. “i’m okay with this.”

“i think that is the happiest you’ve looked since we left the house.”

“yeah, i can tolerate shopping for furniture. not your five billion candles! also, i get to sit down.

“ah, _____,” nanami sighs fondly, pecking your temple quickly, “you are so lazy…”

you huff, but your attention is grabbed by a two-seater, emerald coloured sofa of velvet material. it looked comfortable and seemed like a good deal.

you glide your hand along the rim of the furniture. “what’d you think of this one, kento?”

“hm..it’s alright.” he replies, walking around the sofa and inspecting it like it needs a good fix. “it’s a little small, though.”

“yeah. yeah, that true,” you say, standing behind the lovely, exquisitely made piece of furniture.

you then place both hands onto the outside back of the sofa, and lean forward, effectively bending over. you shift around, seeing how it feels.

glancing back, you see nanami tilt his head and squint his eyes at you.

“…what are you doing?”

you smirk. “you know, jus’…seeing how it feels,” you grunt, standing back up and dusting your hands off like you did a job well done, “it’s too short for me anyway, it would hurt my hips when we..y’know…”

nanami lifts a brow on his perfect face, waiting for you to elaborate.

but you just turn to the kitchen section, skipping away to see what other pieces of furniture and house decorations you can terrorise.

“this one is nice.” you say to nanami, who followed you all the way even in his confusion, of course.

the kitchen setup was modern and sleek, taking on neutral tones like beige, white and brown.

“yes, i do like this one. i can see myself cooking on here.” nanami replies, referring to the electric oven.

“yeah, yeah..” you speak, opening and closing the kitchen cupboards. “hm.”

“what is it?”

“i dunno,” and then, you’re bending over again, this time over the kitchen counter display. “this area is a bit small too,” you jerk your body exaggeratedly, repeatedly moving forwards and backwards like you were being fucked, almost hitting your head on the cupboard above, “yeah, i don’t-”

“_____!” nanami hisses, face morphing into a incredulous expression as he marches over to you, quickly putting a stop to you act, “what are you doing?”

you look up at him from where you’re bent over. “wh-i’m testing it out. seeing if it’s what we need and whatnot,” you turn back around, still in the same position, “okay, now do a few practice thrusts on me, i need to see if-”

“_____!”

“okay, okay.” you huff, laughing a little. you stand up straight, taking a good look at nanami.

a pink tinge coats his cheeks and nose while he frowns at you, almost pouting.

how cute.

you grin and latch onto his fingers, pulling him along with you. “let’s see the bed section now.”

nanami sighs. this day will be longer than he thought.

you plonk yourself down on the alaskan sized mattress, body bouncing with the bed itself. sprawling out like a starfish, you hum, letting yourself sink into the comfort of the bed.

nanami stands, seemingly unimpressed. “_____, that’s the sixth time you’ve done that.”

“yeah, kento, i need to see if it’s good to lie on after a long day of work or something..” an idea springs to mind and you sit up quickly, “okay, try throwing me on the bed, but not too hard.”

“_____, no-”

“come on! nobody’s around. look.” you were correct, there was hardly anyone in the store at this time, considering it was a thursday and nearing late afternoon. “just indulge me. just this once,” you beam up at him, “please?”

nanami stared down at you. he and you both know that he will give in. he can’t say no to you, really.

nanami rolls his eyes at himself, holding his hands out and beckoning you over. “come here then..”

you spring up, practically running to him and throwing yourself in his arms. “throw me!”

he shakes his head at you, looking around before throwing you onto the bed. you bounce, cackling and smiling widely as you lay on the bed. nanami shakes his head fondly, looking down at your delighted face. “how is it?”

you breathe heavily, making a face. “eh,” you jump off the bed, “too bouncy and too loud.”

“really?” nanami blanks. “you’ve been jumping on this bed for ten minutes and you don’t-”

“ooo, come look at this armchair, kento!” but you’re already off to your next piece of furniture. you kneel down a little, “this one looks comfy.”

“yeah,” huffing, nanami strolls over, “yeah, it’s nice.”

your hand finds nanami’s back and you prompt him forward. “sit on it.”

he gives you a look. “and you won’t do anything ridiculous?”

“nanami.” you look at him pointedly. “sit on it, i wanna see what you think.”

nanami stared at you for second and obeys, walking to the couch and sitting, legs spread and arms resting.

“what’d you think?” you ask, admiring his thick legs and arms as you stalk closer to him.

“yes, it’s comfortable,” nanami stated and shifts a little. he feels the leather material of the armrest, “and good quality i’d say.”

“hmmm.” that’s all that is said before you’re plopping yourself onto his lap.

nanami sputters. “_____, wh-”

“shh, shush, i’m not gonna do anything this time. just wanna see how i feel sitting on your lap in this chair,” you look back at him from where you’re seated, smiling innocently, “yeah?”

nanami’s eyes thin, clearly not believing you and not a fan of displaying such intimate affection so publicly, but he sighs, “alright….”

you nod joyfully, rubbing his knee and turning to look at the layout of this particular living room. a large, black, smart television that nanami would definitely deem unnecessary, a cream, ruffled rug laid out across the floor, a mahogany, oval-shaped coffee table.

“this one’s pretty boring, right?”

nanami runs a hand down his stubble covered jaw. he forgot to shave, but you can’t say you don’t like it. “yeah, the only thing i like is the armchair.”

before he even finishes his sentence, you’re momentarily bouncing on his lap like a pogo stick, not even giving nanami time to process what just happened before you stand up, placing your hands on your hips. “yeah, yeah we should definitely get this one. comfy, quiet, nice looking. will fit perfectly into our living room, don’t you think?”

nanami stares at you, still planted on the armchair, unmoving. “i have nothing to say to you. you’re unbelievable.”

you cackle. “do you even know me?”

he mumbles, rising from the seat, adjusting his jeans slightly. you smirk, biting your lip and go to say something teasing, but he stops you, “not. a. word.”

a brand new, comfortable and most importantly, durable, leather armchair sits in your living room by the end of next week.

a/n: i luv when reader is a little tease 🤭🤭🤭

#husband!nanami #nanami x reader #nanami x gender neutral reader #nanami x gn!reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #nanami fluff #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x y/n #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento x gender neutral reader #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x you #kento nanami x y/n #kento nanami fluff

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swifty-fox · 3 months ago

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writing prompt request: buck/bucky or rosielemmons & domesticity - muse a rests chin on muse b’s shoulder to read/see what they’re holding

congrats on ur fic !! 💕 /solittles

this is so old but thak youuu ee

sorry i wrote them slow dancing im in a fluffy mood

if you were the only girl in the world

"sometimes when I feel bad, and things look blue..."

Gale taps his pencil against the paper in front of him and tries to decide if this was a sad song.

"I wish a girl I had… say one like you. Someone within my heart to build a throne"

He's sat on the sofa, feet tucked up underneath him like a child and trying to headache himself through the sort of mathematical problems that left even him feeling stupid. Bucky's supposed to be in the kitchen cooking a roast, but Gale isn't sure how much singing a slab of beef really needs in the cooking process. He's been banned, regardless of the signing, because the mess John left behind every time he cooked left Gale twitchy and irritable. He doesn't think it's hard to clean as one goes, but John thought it was faster to do it all at once.

"And what if you need something that's dirty?"

"Then I'll wash that one."

The singing draws nearer, bringing with it the smell of woodsy cologne and cigarettes.

"If you were the only girl in the world, and I were the only boy," John croons.

Gale looks up to find him leaning in the doorway, shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows and hair flopping out of its careful gel from steam. He looked good, looked healthy and whole and Gale thinks maybe five years out they were getting somewhere close to okay.

He recognizes the song now, an old Great War ditty that he'd heard crooned from open saloons and bars as a child.

"Bucky," He sighs, hunching over his work defensively, "I told you I'm all yours after supper."

John smiles at him, sweet and broad and eye-crinkling guileless and Gale isn't fooled by the beast underneath for a single second.

"Nothing-" He slides around the sofa and holds a hand out for Gale to take with a challenging smirk, "-else would matter in the world today, we would go on loving in the same old way."

His voice was still awful, but when it was less quiet and booming there was almost a melody to it, something Gale found pleasant if he were pressed to admit. Maybe it was rose-colored affection, maybe John just loved him enough to make the words sound good.

Gale takes John's hand but he makes sure to sigh at him enough to show his reluctance but John presses a bristly kiss to his cheek on the tug up and places his hand at a respectful spot on his waist and gets them swaying.

"A garden of Eden, just made for two," John says, leading him around their small living room, "with nothing to mar our joy."

Sometimes they bicker about it with their hands and their steps, who was leading. Nothing beyond playful, but they were both pilots both left-seaters and giving up the yoke wasn't something they did without good reason. But tonight Gale is content to give it over to John, starving for any moment where the other man's eyes were bright and clear and present. Better every year.

"I would say such wonderful things to you, there would be such wonderful things to do."

John gives over the lead to him, passing it off flawlessly and Gale sways them as John nuzzles his way into his shoulder.

"If you were the only girl in the world, and I were the only boy."

"Think those guys on base know you're such a softie?" Gale asks.

John scoffs, pulling back and freeing Gale back to his seat, "They think I'm somewhere between God and Captain America himself. I don't think it's even crossed their minds."

Gale hums, adjusts himself as John wraps arms around his waist, chin hooking over his shoulder to peer down at the paper.

"It's done wonders to heal your issue with humility"

"mm," John's lips press against his neck, "You're off by two numbers."

Gale pauses and then squints, curving his mouth into a crooked smile.

"So I am."

#swiftywrites #i wish i could write rosielemmons but it would just be bottom on bottom action #buck x bucky #clegan

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fluorescentbalaclava · 8 months ago

Text

training season's over

Chapter 5: R&R

Summary:

R&R, military slang for rest and recuperation (also rest and relaxation, rest and recreation, or rest and rehabilitation)

TF141/female reader

spy reader, forced bonding, slow burn, slow build, militar inaccuracies, sugestive language, language, canon typical violence, second chance, domestic fluff, enemies to friends, becoming buddies, they can't help but check you out

previous: chapter four "C.R.O.W."

▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀

"Shouldn't you get a secretary for this?" You asked as you put her another paper through the shredder, watching the thin lines of paper fall into a bin underneath.

"I have four secretaries, and two of them happen to be busy yelling at rookies while other is away," Price said, as he passed you yet another block of paper to be destroyed. "I talked to your parents this morning."

"Fair enough," you said as you divided the big block into smaller groups of paper, not wanting to get the paper shredder stuck...again. You lifted your gaze to watch Price, curiosity spiked. He had his back turned at you, going through archives searching for old files to destroy and fill its drawers with updated and more useful intel. "Did you?"

" They're moving back to their house today, we concluded that they're not in immediate danger, but we'll keep them on watch, just in case. Sent help, so don't worry." He said as he looked through a folder to see if the papers were worth keeping.

"Yeah, they texted me this morning, thanks for that...who did you send, though?"

"Ghost." He said as he threw the files to the floor, amongst other useless paper.

"Why?" You couldn't help the sceptical tone slip from your mouth.

"Believe it or not, he is very good with families,” he said picking up the files he threw on the floor, putting it next to you on the very large piles of archives for you to run through the machine.

"Your mom renewed her invitation for us, you know?" Price said with a hint of tease, making you smile softly in amusement.

"We will see about that" You answered, running more paper through the machine, getting it stuck.

Despite your avoidant tendencies, it would be nice to be back home, at least for one night. A voice in the back of your brain made you think you didn’t deserve to go back there, your tainted hands would just ruin everything they touch. “Sei nicht albern, maus.” König said once to you, just before giving you the number of his therapist, “The things we’ve seen, sooner or later get to your head. You should talk to someone about it.”

You’ve learned to push the thoughts away, most of the time at least. But frequently talking to your family was something you still couldn’t get around. Baby steps.

Another reason to keep pushing that invitation was that your relationship with your colleagues was still a work in progress.

At first it was trying to get the trust of a stray cat, they could come closer, observing you, trying to figure you out, but one sudden movement to reach out and it would flee and disappear. You were sitting on the couch of the common room. It was cozy enough, a big couch where you were curled up with a cup of tea, and two one-seater sofas in each end, a coffee table in front of you, and behind it the television where you were currently watching the Great British Bake Off, as you did every Tuesday. Behind you, a small kitchenette with a metal dining table and five chairs. As if we ever sat all together there.

The first time Gaz approached you he stood behind you, looking at the TV in silence.

"What are they baking?" He asked after a few minutes of silently watching how the contestants ran through the kitchen.

"Devil's food cake" You answered before taking another sip.

"Oh, nice." He said, before becoming silent again. A few more minutes passed, as he remained stood behind you, watching someone struggle with their ganache.

"Uh...do you want to join?" You said quietly, looking up at him from over your shoulder, moving your legs off the sofa to give him space. When he heard your voice, he seemed to snap out of the trance caused by the amateur bakers.

"Oh, no, no. Don't worry, I have things to do. Thanks anyway." He said taking a last look at the TV before leaving the room. Damn it.

However, over the following days bumping into him became a common occurrence. He would hold the punching bag for you, and vice versa, while making small talk.

"Do you want tea?" You heard behind you, your attention switched from the explanation of the new recipe to the man behind you, you were in the same position as last week.

"Yes, sure. Chamomile, please," you answered, before turning back at the TV, slightly taken aback by the sudden offering. But then you reminded yourself: They're your team, you have to get comfortable with each other, otherwise the next few years will be hell and you'll have to move into the infirmary to hear someone talk to you more than two sentences. Then you went back to the cat logic. You had to wait for them to approach, not the other way around, or they will pull away as they don't fully trust you yet.

Back in KorTac, you would have considered König somehow close to you, or so you thought, as you seemed to be his main target for long excited speeches about bombs, and you also opened about your feelings, when they became too overwhelming, and he was surprisingly understanding, sharing a bit of his experience on the matter. Calisto was nice too, a bit posh sure, but she had great and expensive taste for both military equipment and clothes and---

"Here's your cuppa" You were snapped of your thoughts as Gaz passed you a warm mug. You moved your legs off the couch, just to test the waters, and to your surprise he did sit on the other edge of the couch this time. "What are they baking today?"

"Thanks, Gaz" You said before eyeing the mug that said ‘DEATH BEFORE DECAF’ with a very silly drawing of a grim reaper, making you smirk slightly before looking up at him and then the TV again. "They're doing pavlova.”

"Pavlova was always a bit too sweet for me" Gaz replied, taking a sip of his own tea, his mug had a yellow sign that had ‘I cause safety briefs’ written on it. Making small talk? Nice.

"Yeah, well, they're making a lemon one, so I think the sourness balances the sweetness a bit." Am I really at a military base talking about pavlova?

"Do you bake?" He looked at you for a brief moment before looking back at the TV.

"Oh, fuck no" You answered chuckling, taking a small sip of the hot brew. You let the flowery scented vapour fill your nostrils, feeling the warm liquid going down your throat, before adding. "I always end up messing the measurements and it comes out edible but a bit off. Do you?"

"Not at all. It's precise work, like disarming a bomb. I would rather disarm the bomb, though." He said, in a slightly playful tone, amused at your reply. "Why do you always watch this then?"

“It's fun, and besides it's an easy watch to distract yourself a bit," you said shrugging, still watching the TV. Helps me not to think.

“Good point," he said before going back to a slightly more comfortable silence than the usual one. And you had to admit, it was nice to have company next to you.

"Are ye fuckin' her?" Soap suddenly said, loudly enough to make other tables turn around, making Gaz choke on a piece of broccoli.

"What?! No!" Gaz answered, sounding like the thought didn't even cross his mind.

It did actually, once, when you were leaving the gym and you took off your oversized shirt throwing it over your shoulder, standing only in a sports bra and drying the sweat from your neck with a small towel. But this wasn’t the time or place to admit that.

Ghost and Price were sitting next to them, eating silently, looking at the exchange. A glimpse of amusement in Price's eyes.

"Then why are ye with her all the time now?" Soap said in the same accusatory, pointing at him with his fork.

"I'm not! We just train sometimes and watch TV on Tuesdays, that's hardly all the time" He answered with a shrug before taking another bite from his lunch. After some more contemplation, and still under the judgemental gaze of Soap, he added. "Besides she's nice. A bit brutal, though. Should see how she punches the bag sometimes, sounds like a gunshot.”

"Kid's fine, just need a bit of guidance" Price quipped in, still looked amused at the exchange. “And you can’t do that if you don’t talk to her.”

It was cold around you, the frozen breeze seemed to go straight through the heavy layers of clothes and gear, your throat getting dry and sore. You looked around only to see a dark and humid cell, you tried to move your arms, but the coldness was so intense they were numb. Suddenly the heavy metal door opened, and a figure walked in. You tried to talk but no words came out, your mouth so dry it felt incapable of muttering anything. He's saying something, you can't figure out what. The figure towers over you, the light coming from behind him covering his face with shadows. When he lifts a hand, you notice he's holding a gun, with a quick movement he lowers it harshly against your forehead.

You wake up with a gasp, your hand moving quickly to your head to cover the place where he hit you, only to find an old scar on your scalp, covered by your hair. Your movements are a bit clumsy and erratic as you look around. Dark and cold, but not a cell...close enough.

You're agitated as you look around, recognizing the place as your room in the barracks, you see the couple of decorations you pulled out, closed boxes pilling on a corner, the dim light of your lava lamp. As you sit up in your bed, you notice that at some point of the night your weighted blanket fell from your bed, as you got too warm, and your unconscious brain decided to kick it off. Your heart rate went down slightly, but the feeling of alertness wasn't wearing off. You lazily stood up, still feeling slightly on edge, put on your slippers, and walked to the common room.

Soap on the other hand, had to double check if he wasn’t hallucinating when he saw a girl, with her hair down and messy as if she just woke up, fleece and fluffy pyjama pants with a heart pattern and a matching top walking to the kettle turning it in on. He even stopped chewing on his biscuits to focus on her, as you were taking deep breaths with your hands on the counter. The lights were off except for a lamp next to the TV that was always on.

"Lass?" He said confused, sitting on the dining table on the other side of the room, making you jump at the sound.

"Bloody hell!" You said letting out a shaky breath, hands gripping the kitchen counter as you turned to him.

"Jesus Christ, calm down, it’s just me,” he said furrowing his brows, raising both of his hands in surrender.

"I just woke up and you scared the shit out of me." You huffed a deep breath, massaging your neck in an attempt to sooth your nerves. Soap could tell from the moment you walked in how tense you were, and he tried to approach it as casually as he could.

"Midnight snack or nightmares?" He asked with a mouthful as he stared back at you.

"The latter" You answered in a mix of resignation and tiredness, as your hand went up and started tracing the scar on your scalp. The kettle stopped. "Tea?",

"Well, welcome to the club. I think no one here slept eight hours straight in ages" he said putting another biscuit in his mouth. "Coffee."

"No, it's late. I will make you a chamomile" you said in a groggy tone, not leaving room to discuss.

"Whatever you say, ma'am" he said with a chuckle in return, but didn't complain.

He tried, he swore he did…but as you stretched to grab the mugs from the cabinet, he couldn’t help his eyes from trailing down to your body. Not that he hasn’t looked before, he wasn’t blind after all, and you usually walked to you room in a white undershirt and your tactic pants, fresh off the shower after training. But the loose uniform didn’t do you justice. His glance trailed down from the way your top stuck to your waist, and how your fluffy pants hugged your hips…and when he caught a glimpse of a tattoo on your lower back, made his jaw drop lightly, his eyes were glued on it. But he quickly snapped out of his daze when you turned around, making him quickly look away.

You walked back to the table with the two hot brews, sitting across Soap on the table and passing one mug to him. He looked at the cup, lifted it up and sniffed the vapour coming out of it.

"Smells nice. What is this for?"

"It helps you sleep and calm down" you said before taking a sip, looking up at him.

"Sounds useful" he said taking a sip first, visibly processing if he liked the taste, before taking another more generous one. He put the mug down, handling you the package of biscuits, Rich Tea. "Want one?"

"Aren't those Ghost's?" You asked hesitantly grabbing the package, looking at him narrowing your eyes.

"Nah, bought them myself" He said shrugging, and that was enough for you to grab one, the idea of a sweet treat too tempting to pass. "Ah! You ate one. Now you are an accomplice to theft, and you can't tell Ghost."

"Should have known, you never buy anything" You answered playfully rolling your eyes but grabbing another one anyway. Damage is already done. "Gaz always says you steal his coffee."

"Well, yeah, but Gaz just scolds me and never does anything. If LT knows I found his stash he'll use me as a target practice" he said taking another sip, to swallow the biscuit he had in his mouth. Once his mouth was empty again, he added in a soft tone. "So…"

"So?" You replied in a confused tone.

"Warming up to us, bonnie?" He leaned back on his chair, with a grin. Something in his attitude made you both roll your eyes but smile.

"Guess you could say that.”

"So, this is what you watch all the time?" Soap said in a confused, sitting next to Gaz on the other end of the couch. "Why is that bloke crying?"

"He did the macaronage wrong, so his macarons came out hollow, crumbly and have no feet" Gaz answered focused on the show rather than in Johnny.

"The fuck are you talking about?" Gaz groaned at Soap still-going questions, making you chuckle.

"He didn't mix the batter enough, so they came out wrong." He replied in a frustrated tone.

"You bake?" Soap asked him again.

"No, but if you shut up and pay attention you would know they literally explain it at the beginning of the show."

"Oh no, don't start over" You mumbled in a concerned tone, seeing the contestant leave the failed batch aside and grabbing the remaining ingredients and starting to mix them again.

"Well, he has to at least try, the others will look terrible when he serves them" Gaz answered, now in a softer tone, leaning back on the couch.

"Yeah, but there's no way he's going to get them in time, he has to do the batter all over, let them sit, put them in the oven..."

"You bake, bonnie?" Soap piped in again, looking at you over Gaz.

"Uh, no."

"Why are we watching this then?" Soap said again, sinking again on the couch, returning his attention to the TV, where some were already finishing the macarons for their presentations. "Those look good though, wonder what they taste like."

"Never had them?" Gaz answered to him, furrowing his brows, to which Soap shook his head. You kept quiet, never really tried them either. "We should go to the town and get some."

You just kept watching the show, assuming they were just speaking between themselves. This situation happened before, people would make plans next to you, you would just play dumb.

"Aye, we should, I have to get more deodorant too" Soap said, and he looked over Gaz at you again, and you were surprised when you heard him add, "You can go out of the base if you're with us, right?"

"Technically yes, you just have to tell the Captain first," You tried your best to contain your excitement at the possibility of being out again, to walk around other people that weren't soldiers, to visit shops, to breathe another kind of air.

"Don't worry about that, will promise him to get you home at nine" he said in a playful tone, with a grin.

"We'll show you around" Gaz said with a smile, and a probably harder than intended pat on your back. "We will get you your own mug too."

"Can I pick it?" You said making obvious you're glancing judgementally at Gaz ‘I cause safety briefs’ mug and at Soap ‘MAD SCOTTISH BASTARD’ mug.

“It's tradition that your superior officers pick it for you, in this case, us” Kyle replied with a grin, matching Soap. You smiled but looked at them suspiciously.

“You’re making that up.” You said narrowing your eyes while looking between them.

“Dead serious” Soap said, lifting his mug. “Ye think I would have picked this?”

“Yes” You answered without thinking.

“Wrong. I wanted the highland cow one.” He then added, in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Shh! They’re judging now.” Kyle said, leaning in, his body like a wall between Soap and you, as your attention quickly returned to the TV.

As you heard them both loudly arguing with the decision of the judges, you thought to yourself that being in jail wouldn’t be this entertaining.

next chapter: chapter six "Contact"

taglist: @no-lessthan3

if you like it leave me some kudos or suggestions on ao3! <3

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #kyle gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #gaz cod #soap x reader #soap cod #john soap mactavish #soap mw2 #john price x reader #john price #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley

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cosmal · 2 years ago

Text

𝐄𝐠𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐠 — 𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

day six of my christmas drabbles advent calendar

summary — james looks after you when you’re drunk on eggnog and craving a christmas kebab.

warnings/tags — fem!afab!reader, she/her, drunk!reader, mentions of throw up

James has spent the last twenty minutes looking for you.

Remus said you were in the kitchen. When you weren’t there, Alice, who was in the kitchen, had said you’d moved to the sofas with Sirius. Sirius, sat by himself on a three-seater, said you’d up and left five minutes ago.

James goes crazy searching Mary Macdonald’s house for you. Eventually, when he almost starts to panic, he finds you sitting down against the far wall in the lounge room like he hasn’t looked for you there three times. He sighs, a little annoyed, a lot relieved.

You’re giggling in your lap when he reaches you. He thinks you’re fucking adorable. “Hey, lovely,” he says, all sweet and natural, like the charmer he is.

You look up from where you’re fiddling with a ladder in your tights, right above the top of your white leg warmers. Something that James thinks are terribly cute every time you put them on.

You seem head-spun when you catch him. Then, you seem awfully happy. “Jamie!” you hiccup. It’s so cute James swears he’s dizzier than you.

Your leg warmers. Your small, tipsy hiccup. Everything about you tonight radiates everything lovely.

“Hey, cute thing.” He’s never called you that before. You wrinkle your face.

“Cute,” another hiccup, “cute thing?”

He crouches down so he’s at your level, splaying his hands over your knees, squeezing the fat there. “Yeah,” he says, “y’cute.”

You pull your legs closer to your chest and James wobbles. He stops still when you start kissing his knuckles. His hands tighten in their selfish grip and if he thought you’d bruise, he’d stop. But you’re kissing him like you really, desperately need to.

You pull your mouth away like you’re a little embarrassed and his knuckles tingle.

“You know you shouldn’t be on the floor this drunk.” He really can’t tell how drunk you are just yet, but at one of Mary MacDonald’s parties, he’s too aware of how you could be.

“You have really pretty hands,” you tell him, blinking slowly at him like you’ve never actually seen his hands before. He pretends you don’t ignore him.

“Thanks, lovely,” he says, “you smell like nutmeg.”

You snort, “You don’t know what nutmeg smells like.” You laugh because he’s terribly funny — or maybe you are.

“No,” he agrees, “but I know what eggnog smells like.”

You gasp like you’ve been caught with your hand in the biscuit tin. Your cheeky smile grows into something worse. James loves it.

“Marlene is really pervasive,” you say, suddenly stern like you’re entirely serious.

“Pervasive?” he snorts. He doesn’t mean to.

“Yeah,” you nod gleefully, disheveled hair falling in places that look annoying. He moves to tuck them away like the lovely boyfriend he is. He ignores the rumple in your face when he rubs your cheek for a little too long.

He knows, obviously being the sober one, that you mean persuasive. He truly thinks it’s adorable but his knees are starting to ache and he wants to move past it without disagreeing with a drunk you. He also wants you home, in bed, asleep and you’re makeup off. Not in that order, he knows better than that.

“Right, well,” he sniffs, standing upright so he’s above you, “tell Marlene that we appreciate the eggnog,” James doesn’t, he thinks is horrible, “but we must be going.”

You duck your head down again and James thinks you’re going to be sick. He imagines a pool of chucked up eggnog in your lap and momentarily feels sick himself. Then, you’re sighing, “God,” you throw your head back up and James thinks if you keep it up you might pass out, “I’m so fucking hungry.” You’ve moved past the persuasive talk, clearly.

“Well, if you let me help you up,” He doesn’t suggest you getting yourself up, knowing what happened the last time. The scar on your thigh an awful reminder. “I will take you to get food.” It’s cold, so cold his cheeks are a shade redder than normal, the snow hasn’t stopped all day, and he really shouldn’t, but his girlfriend is hungry. And he’s James Potter.

You look up at him, eyes and the curve of your neck glowing under the shine of the disco ball Sirius has hung up for Mary and you look the happiest you have all night. James would feel offended if he didn’t know what it feels like to be drunk and hungry.

“Really?”

He wriggles his fingers, arms outstretched to you, “Seriously.” Also feeling offended you think he wouldn’t take you to get food, would be stupid. He does though.

You reach your arms up like you might grab onto his and then they fall back down over your bent legs. “Kebabs?”

He nods, acting like he’s genuinely considering his options when kebabs have been on his mind all night, “Sounds good.”

Later that night, sitting in the best kebab diner in the whole of the UK (never argue with James or Frank about this, they’ll fight to the death) James thinks you’ve somehow gotten cuter.

The flickering LED light casts you absolutely warm, something that he swears should not make you look prettier, face shiny with grease and mayonnaise, he wants to savour this moment forever. It’s something so not Christmas, and also exactly what Christmas is about, all at once.

You’re half sober now, though your movements are still slow and sticky. Every time he watches a piece of lettuce fall onto the table below you, he grimaces, but you’re really trying your best.

Your motor spatial skills are worse than normal, he thinks with a total fondness, but he’s not one to stop you from stuffing your face when you’d told him how hungry you were the entire drive over. I’m so hungry, I could eat a donkey is what you’d told him, face pressed up against the cold window of his car. James laughed a little too much.

“Christmas kebabs are the best kebabs,” you tell him, mouth full of chicken, your eyes a little droopy.

James agrees but his mouth is just as full. He has the soberness in him to keep his mouth shut.

“You know what’s better, though?”

“What?” he asks after he swallows.

“Christmas pudding,” you smile.

“I have some at home,” he grins, way too knowingly of what you’re about to say.

You stand, too quickly for his liking when you wobble around. “Well c’mon then, what are we waiting for?”

“You’ve barely finished your kebab!” he says, standing anyways.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Right.”

You pass out still in your full face of makeup, and fancy clothes when you get home, the thought of Christmas pudding completely gone. It takes James and hour to get you clean and back into bed.

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x female!reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter oneshots #james potter imagine #james potter fanfic #james potter drabble #james potter headcanon #the marauders #the marauders fanfiction #marauder x fem!reader

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tgmsunmontue · 1 year ago

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Another Time (Chapter 10/14)

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE

Summary: Jake wakes up in Rooster's body ~30 hours post-Mission and they have to deal with it. They're adults. Apparently.

(Posting on Tumblr, chapter a day until it's complete (currently 14 chapters already written), after it's complete I will post it on AO3 once a day until it's completed there as well).

Odd chapter = Jake POV, Even chapter = Bradley POV

TEN

He wakes up warm, his arm firmly tucked over a torso, and he hums under his breath. He’s still not in his own body. As he’d predicted last night, Nat had commandeered his guest room. Coyote had gotten a lift home from Bob, both promising to return tomorrow. Now today. It had left him with the sofa, the lumpy as fuck one-seater or the floor beside Hangman. He’d considered the option of sliding into the bed beside Hangman, but there’s a big difference between doing it when he’s awake and asking (and okay, a bit loopy because of the drugs), and doing it when he’s fast asleep. He’d wanted to though. Being rudely woken in the middle of the night and being offered, no, told, that got what he wanted, well, that’s something he could get used to.

He stretches a little, nuzzles his nose into the nape of Hangman’s neck and just breathes for a moment.

“Mornin’,” Hangman says, voice rough and Bradley misses his accent.

“Morning…” He replies, hears the accent and it just isn’t the same.

“So, what’s on the list?”

“It ended up being quite a… quite a list,” Bradley states, because he’d read it over and felt uncomfortable just reading it, let alone discussing it. Although he knows they’re going to have to. He draws away from Hangman and reaches for the piece of paper and hands it to Hangman silently. Gets up and goes to the bathroom and comes back, sliding back under the blankets without being asked, Hangman having shifted to face him and looking at him isn’t going to make this any easier.

“Vulnerability. Trust. Communication… this is like intense couples therapy before we’re even a proper couple,” Hangman says and Bradley laughs quietly, because he’s not wrong.

“Yeah. This feels all backwards.”

“Hmm. You think we would have managed to figure this out if we’d been doing it the traditional way?”

“Well, I guess we’ll never know.”

“Guess so. Backwards it is. Well, at least we can cross off proximity and touch… I mean, we’ve touched plenty,” Hangman states and his lips twitch in a smile and Bradley finds his eyes tracking the movement. Also noting that his moustache really needs a trim. Hmm.

“And calling each other by our first names…”

“You got a middle name?”

“Uh, yeah. Peter.”

“After Mav?” Hangman asks.

“Yeah,” Bradley says on a sigh.

“Hmm. Well, okay then Bradley Peter Bradshaw, my name is Jacob Andrew Seresin.”

“Nice to meet you Jacob Andrew Seresin…”

They both go silent, looking around hopefully for a brief second before they both break into huffs of laughter, shaking their heads.

“God I wish it was that easy.”

“Guess we can’t catch a break huh? Well, how about… biggest fear?”

Bradley has to stop and think, because his immediate response is that he’s not afraid of anything. That’s a lie of course, but he can’t put it in words what it is he’s afraid of the most, feels like he’s lived through his worst fears coming true over and over to put a voice to them.

“Least favorite food?” Hangman asks instead, obviously reading something in his silence or on his face.

“Fruit.”

“An entire food group? Really?”

“Yeah. I’m really picky when it comes to fruit. My apples need to be crunchy, my bananas not too soft, pineapple still firm…”

Hangman snorts.

“Picky wee Rooster…”

“No, I just know what I like.”

“Do you just…”

Bradley laughs, wants to shove him, kiss him, straddle him and –

“Do you ever stop flirting?”

“Nope. It’s all part of my charm darlin’.”

“Part of something alright,” Bradley mutters and then Hangman is leaning forward, capturing his lips so soft and Bradley relaxes into it for the briefest of moments.

“So, the whole physical intimacy. So polite of Bob. I want… it’s the last resort. I want to be in my own body when we do… more.”

“More. Yeah… Although, if you jerk me off right now, would that count as you getting me off, or me getting off?”

Bradley groans and pulls away with a laugh, shakes his head as he feels his neck and chest go warm with desire and embarrassment.

“I have no idea… but I feel like we can put that down as a middle-step…”

“All part of your plan of attack hmm?

“Shut up. Like you have any better ideas.”

“It’s just like another mission. We’ll figure it out. Break it down.”

“Doubt this one can be fixed with a couple of well-aimed missiles.”

“No. But I guess I can talk about myself for a bit…”

“Your favorite subject right?” Bradley says, and he means it as a joke before he realizes that no, Hangman doesn’t talk about himself. He’s a cocky arrogant fighter pilot, confident in his abilities and more than willing to talk himself up… but that’s all surface. It’s not who he is. “Tell me.”

“Hmm. Well. Vulnerable right?”

Bradley’s stomach does an unpleasant flip. He’d hoped there wasn’t a tragic backstory or trauma but…

“It’s not bad. I mean, my parents had me very late in life. My brother and sister are closer to Mav’s age than mine. Still, we’re all pretty close. I’m closer with my nieces and nephews… It’s just…”

“You don’t have to…”

“But I do, don’t I? What if it’s this that makes us switch back?”

Bradley lets out a long breath, because he has a point.

“We don’t have to do it all now though. Come on. We’ve got to get you ready for your hospital appointment and then we’ve got the debrief. We’ve also got something really important to take care of.”

“What?”

“I need to trim that moustache,” Bradley states and grins when Hangman laughs freely, some level of tension dripping away.

“Do you not trust me?”

“With my life? Yes. With my ‘stache? Not so much…”

“Afraid I might shave the whole thing off?”

“I think I could deal with that, it’s you trimming it crooked that would be world ending.”

“Well okay honey, take care of me.”

ELEVEN

#Hangster #Sereshaw #rooster x hangman #hangman x rooster #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fanfic #Another Time

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varunnehra · 2 years ago

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formulatrash · 2 years ago

Note

Do you think a trans driver should be allowed to race in F1 Academy?

This feels like a trick question or like, I don't know, some sort of weirdness but I'm going to take it as face value because this is an important issue.

Should a trans driver be allowed to race in F1 Academy? Absolutely yes, zero question, 100%.

The first reason trans women should be allowed to compete in F1 Academy is that trans women are women, the people the category is for. Any women eligible in the age and experience criteria (it's meant to be for younger drivers without significant single seater careers) should be allowed.

F1 Academy, as far as we know about its purpose, exists to provide stepping stone opportunities for women, at the F4 level because that is where most women drivers start losing out, losing funding or being unable to complete seasons, not having enough testing time, etc compared to the ones among their male peers who are likely to succeed.

The opportunities for women drivers are very slim because there is a lack of belief they are worth backing. Remember that court case with Nyck de Vries just before this season started? An old sponsor was suing him because they'd backed his Formula 2 career on the agreement that he'd pay them a percentage of his F1 earnings if he made it there. It's how a lot of junior series sponsorship contracts work, that the driver will repay the sponsor when they hit the big time - remember when Sergio Perez managed to force the Force India sale because of non-payments to his sponsor? That'll have been something like that. (obviously traditionally sponsors would pay the team, except in these weird cases where their name may or may not actually appear on the car by the end)

If you're a woman there's no confidence that you'll get to F1. It's been 30 years since a woman was entered properly into a grand prix weekend. It's been nine years since Susie Wolff did FP1 in Silverstone. It's more than five years before we'll see a woman there, according to Stefano Domenicali. (thanks Stefano, super helpful)

If no one believes you'll get to F1, no one will fund you on those contract terms. Which makes it very hard to raise the astronomical amounts needed to compete in junior series. If no one believes you can win races then it's hard to convince them to give you a seat, even if you do somehow find three million Euro down the back of the sofa.

Now, the fact trans women are women aside, if no one believes cis women are going to make it to F1 and they have funding problems why would a more marginalised group not need at least the same opportunities to have anything approaching a chance? Motorsport is so conservative it can barely contemplate anyone wearing a bra talking out loud, the sad truth is that although there are queer people around (I mean, hello, it's me) it's a lonely and mostly closeted place for it.

So yes, of course trans women - who are, in any case, women, the people the category was designed for - should be in F1 Academy.

Where does that leave nonbinary people? Well, I think - and I like to think Susie would think this too, from conversations with her - the main group missing, gender-wise, from motorsport is not men. So I would hope that nonbinary people would also be welcomed.

#motorsport asks

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megmischief · 2 years ago

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Sebastian x Farmer x Sam - Forbidden Affection Chapter 2

E RATED - Mature Themes

It had been four days since you left your large wooden home. The most you felt you could do was take care of the animals, afterall they still needed feeding.

You sat on your windowsill with your grey tabby kitten watching the rain, your warm breath creating a slight condensation on the glass. You wondered what Sebastian was doing right now. His things were still here. However, you assumed he was back at his mum's for now. You still hadn't fully wrapped your head around what had happened. You did know that you missed Sebastian dreadfully, though. The bed was cold without him. You knew there was no going back, though. Not after what had happened.

Pearl let out a loud meow, which started you, causing you to fall off of the windowsill and onto the floor.

"What the heck, Pearl?" You laughed, giving the small kitten some attention.

Pearl ran to the door with haste as you heard a loud knock.

"Coming!" Slowly, you climbed off of the ground and began to make your way to the door. Little did you know who was on the other side.

"U-Uh...hi..." Sam scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Can I come in? Its raining and I wanna talk..."

"No, the fuck, you cannot." You slam the door in Sam's face and begin to stomp away...until you hear another knock. This time, louder and with haste.

"Hey, please...Let me talk..." Sam called out from behind the door.

You huffed. You didn't want an explanation from your own husband right now, let alone Sam. "Why?" You whisper.

"Because...I need you to hear the full story. I'm sorry. We're both sorry. I know it's not going to make up for anything, but please just hear me out..."

Hesitantly, you walked over to the door, unlocking it once again. "You have five minutes, Sam...and I warn you now, if I don't like what I hear, I will not be letting you anywhere near the farm again." You walk away from the door, letting Sam walk in on his own accord.

You both sit down on your black three seater sofa, unable to look each other in the eye.

"So..." You sigh.

"Y-yeah..." Sam begins nervously playing with his thumbs. "Um...so... I wanted to come clean... What you saw...it's not the first time it's happened..."

"I know." You whisper.

Sam looks up at you, suddenly confused. "You knew?"

"Mm..." You nod. "I always thought something was going on, but was too scared to face reality and realise it actually was. That's what made me more pissed. I feel like an idiot, Sam."

Sam looks back down at the floor. He can't help but feel an undying sense of shame due to the pain he had brought to both you and Seb.

"How long though...? As in...how long have you been hooking up?" You can't help but nervously tap your foot, awaiting a response.

"Four months. We've only ever fooled around - never gone the whole way. Sebastian always said that was only for you..."

You laughed, unable to believe what you were hearing. "What a fucking Saint. And that makes everything okay then?"

Sam looked back at you, almost annoyed. "Look, I'm sorry. I came here to tell you the full story, and I'm giving you the truth. Sebastian and I can't change what happened, but we can try to make it better. Afterall...I love him too..."

You stare blankly at Sam. "You what?"

Sam stares back. "I said I love him. I can't change that, ya know. That's like asking you to stop loving him. It's impossible because there's a connection there."

"Sam, I know that! I've been married to him for four months! You had no right to be a home wrecker in the first place!" You stopped dead in your tracks. You and Seb married four months ago... but so too had Sam and Seb began their relations. "Sam...don't tell me you both hooked up on our wedding day?!"

"No, no, no! Not at all!" Sam shook his head. "It was about two weeks after..."

You stand up and begin pacing. A mixture of emotions begins to wash over you. "Sam, I actually can't believe you. You were my closest friend, too. What have I ever done to you to deserve this?" You look down at him as he sits on the sofa. Your eyes are glassy as you feel the saltiness of tears begin to roll down your cheeks.

Sam, gets up and pulls you into a warm embrace. "I know...you've done nothing wrong. Ever. I promise, Seb and I will make it up to you as best we can. We haven't spoken since all of this happened, but I know Abi said he's in a bad way about the divorce..."

As much as you hated Sam right now, you were missing Seb and were touch starved without him. Therefore, you allowed Sam to continue his embrace. "I haven't filed the papers, Sam..."

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marytvirgin · 2 years ago

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↬ 5 – If only you had wanted me.

"They wash your wounds with their tears. My tears must fall when theirs dry." — Romeo and Juliet.

In the corner of the darkened room there is a masked figure attentive to the details of the place.

Eyes shielded by white lenses moved across the television attached to the wood panel, the three-seater brown leather sofa. On top of the small coffee table in front of the sofa there is a gun and a pack of cigarettes next to a lighter of appearance old. The kitchen is small but well organized. The only two visible doors are closed, despite the fact that the resident of the place is already at home.

Alice tracked him there as soon as possible. Fortunately, she didn't need to invent any lies to quickly get out of Wayne territory, just like he did with Dick, Bruce dismissed her shortly after both were checked by Alfred. Then, as Dick was in his way back to Bludhaven, Alice took off on her motorbike without prodding.

Her trained eyes moved to the door to the obviously occupied bathroom as soon as the handle was turned and opened. That was obviously the same man she'd been following less than an hour ago. His big, muscular build was all she analysed, but what caught her attention were the scars that covered his entire torso down to the hem of his sweatpants that hung on his narrow hips. The man suddenly stopped in the middle of the room just as he stopped rubbing the bath towel over his head. Immediately Alice realized that he, even without looking, knew that someone was there uninvited.

— Nice place. — Alice commented, still hidden in the shadows of the place.

The big body relaxed slightly at the sound of the female voice. A shuddering breath escaped her soft lips as the scent of the man's bath products reached her. All very familiar.

— It's too tidy for a safe house. — The man's muscular chest rose and fell, he still held the towel tightly over his head obstructing the view of his face. — Denial is a really hard thing to deal with. I mean, being forced to accept something is awful. I've been through this twice before today. — Alice stepped out of the shadows with hesitant steps and watched as he tensed at her last word. — So after five years of pain and failed attempts to move on with my life, I found out the hard way that my dead boyfriend might not really be dead after all. — Alice stopped five paces away from him, her feminine fingers tingling with the urge to touch the man's scarred skin. — Look at me.

When the man didn't move, Alice asked again in a shaky voice. The man hidden by the soft cloth has to be him. Have to. She can't be so affected, even years later, that she hallucinates. Those movements, that familiarity.

It has to be him.

As the towel was slowly removed from over the male face, Alice felt her own eyes water at the sight. Strands of once dark brown hair are now as black as coal, and near the forehead is a medium band of hair as white as snow. The eyebrows have also darkened and now look more toned — there's a new small scar that divides the left eyebrow into two parts, giving it a dangerous look. The nose has changed a little, there is a slight inclination to the right side — perhaps the blow that cut the eyebrow was the same one that broke the nose. Lean cheeks and high cheekbones, a square, razor-sharp jaw with a cleft in the chin — she can remember the feeling of resting her hands there when she was younger. Medium pink lips slightly dry, cupid's bow well drawn — soft.

And the eyes, dammit, they're almost the same.

Gray, blue, green and brown were what were there before. But now, when she looked into the man's eyes, Alice found that those eyes almost glowed in a magical way. The grays and blues seemed to get lighter, the green ring of the coloured iris was lit as if exposed to black light, and the auburn had never been so crimson before. Hesitant, Alice took a step forward waiting to see if he would move away, not receiving any kind of negative reaction she walked again until her female body was almost touching the man's.

—Jason? — Alice's voice was nothing more than a watery whisper.

A small nod led her to touch the pale scars of the other's skin. Slowly her hands reached Jason's shoulders and that's when she pulled him into a hug. A hug that waited five years to happen. Hell, she'd wait forever to touch him again if need be.

Slowly, Jason dropped the towel on the living room floor and wrapped his arms around Alice's waist as well. Her fingers crept up to the nape of black hair where Alice pulled the male face closer, the female breaths ragged and quick. Jason was as quiet as he could, the shock of finding his one and only love had come three years ago when he'd broken out of the League of Assassins and sought her out for the first time since coming back to life. That day when he saw her leave the Gotham University campus, Jason thought he would die again with the speed his heart was beating. Alice held him close for a while before pulling away slightly and bringing her hands to Jason's face.

— You are alive... — Alice murmured, looking into Jason's eyes.

— I am. — The man's eyes roamed the face of the woman he loves even after everything. — You shouldn't be here.

Outch.

—How long? — Alice ignored the dismissive phrase he directed at her.

— As soon as I died, Ra's Al Ghul himself had his League followers take me to Nanda Parbat and put me in the Lazarus Pit. And then I was back to life. That's the short version. — Jason explained with a resigned sigh.

— That was five years ago, Jason. — Alice took a step back. — Why didn't you come back? If you had come back, I would have…

— Would have done what? — Jason interrupted, frowning hard. — Hmm? Take me to Bruce? To a fucking therapist? Moved out with me? Oh yes, what a wonderful idea! You would have done everything but the one thing I needed! — Alice flinched again when he practically shouted the last sentence.

— I would have helped you get well again. — Alice completed the sentence before cut by the angry brunette.

— You couldn't do that.

— How can you be so sure? — Alice asked, trying to ignore the way the pieces of her heart broke again at Jason's lines.

— Because you didn't. — Jason ran his fingers through his hair and turned away from her. — You didn't kill him.

Alice took a deep breath at the statement. Jason couldn't even say the clown's name.

—I wanted. I tried.

— But he keeps breathing, he keeps hurting and terrorizing and killing innocent people, and you keep letting him live! — When Jason screamed again, Alice finally realized that death didn't just affect him physically. Jason had never yelled at her before he died, but now it seemed like an easy thing for him to do.

— My parents died and I had nothing. So Bruce, Dick and Alfred took me in and I got a family. And then you came along. I had it all when I had you all. But you died, Jason! — Alice raised her voice looking hard at her ex-boyfriend. — You were my fucking safe place, the person I dreamed of having a future with, but you died! And again I had lost someone I loved, only this time I still had my family. Killing that monster would take that away from me. You can't judge me because I was and still am afraid of being alone! Having nothing again! — Both faced each other like two rabid lions. — Killing him wouldn't bring you back!

— But that would stop you from doing the same to other people.

— Let's be honest here, Jason. — Alice took three steps forward speaking through gritted teeth. — Bruce and Dick are the altruists here, not me, not you! I already lost my family once, it won't happen again, even if the rest of the world burns to ashes.

Jason looked surprised by the revelation. Years ago that sentence would not have been said by her, however the world is cruel and at some point you learn to be cruel too. As most people would, Alice will keep everyone else's family safe as long as her own is not at severe risk.

— What you don't understand is that if you'd come back to me, not Bruce or Dick or Alfred, but just me, I would have stayed with you, stayed for you, even if you weren't the same anymore. I would have stayed because that's more than anyone else in the world would have done for you. — Alice's bright tears escaped her crystalline eyes and ran down her cheeks until they fell from her chin. — I would have done all that and more if you'd only wanted me the way I wanted you.

Without waiting for an answer — which probably wouldn't come — Alice turned her back on the expressionless man and left through the same window she used to enter. She just ignored the heartbreak she'd left in the apartment along with the man she'd once known. For the next two weeks there were no alarming activities in Gotham and the little things that happened Alice left up to Bruce. In those days there were no signs of Jason, and Gotham for what could be the first time in history did not have a case of homicide followed by robbery registered by the police. Everyone was too quiet, including Black Mask who had recently sworn the Red Hood to death.

Unfortunately, all good things come to an end, and peace in the city is no exception. Alice jumped slightly when the cell phone started to vibrate on the vacant sofa seat, Bruce's name was what convinced her to answer the call, only to find that one of the nightclubs protected by the Red Hood had been attacked and a hostage taken. Despite her reluctance to wear the costume, Alice got up and did, after all what would she say to Bruce? "He's Jason, I've known for a few weeks now, but I haven't told you and I don't want to meet him"? It certainly wasn't a good idea, even if she had doubts that Bruce didn't know yet. It didn't take long for both of them to jump down the train bridge to stop the mercenary quartet from finishing the job, ie killing Jason.

— What took you so long? — Red Hood, or Jason, asked as soon as he saw her. Sarcasm dripping of his voice.

— Shut up and fight. — Bruce ordered starting a fight with two of them at the same time. Jason and the only woman in the other group got into a violent fight while Alice went for the man with the bat.

The Huntress ducked, dodging the long weapon and jumped, turning her right leg towards the man's face. He was momentarily unbalanced, but his training quickly gave him stability. Alice easily defended the blow that should hit the region of the ribs — where the cut made by Jason was still sensitive — but his next move hit the back of the vigilante's knees throwing her back to the ground. Ignoring the lack of air for survival reasons, Huntress rolled to the side avoiding the stick that would hit her in the face and immediately planted one of her feet on the dirt floor, making a 360-degree turn, knocking him down just as he had done with her. Immediately, Alice touched the newly acquired device — with the famous Deadshot, aka Floyd Lawton, an anti-hero who acts as an informant for her at times — and triggered the automatic crossbow. Knowing that the amount of shots is limited, she made of everything to hit the mercenary without errors in a non-lethal way, however the man is relatively good at what he does and with little difficulty managed to deflect all the small arrows.

Alarmed by a loud noise, the Huntress jumped forward, dodging the car that was thrown at Bruce and that narrowly missed hitting her too. When she got up, the tip of the staff hit the side of her face, throwing her back to the ground. Amidst the vertigo, she cursed her choice not to pick up the throwing knives when she left the house. As she watched in slow motion as her own blood oozed from the cut in her mouth and dripped onto the dusty floor, Alice remembered the Glock clipped to the back of her utility belt. Even knowing that Bruce will be angry with the use of the firearm, Alice took one of her hands to the place hidden by the purple cape and grabbed the gun. In a matter of three seconds she is already on her feet with her heart pounding in her ears pressing the trigger three times on the chest of the man who was about to hit her again.

Alice dropped the gun and ran towards him, the first blow threw the stick that glowed blue — the fucking stick was glowing blue — on the ground disarming him. The second punch hit where the bullets had been previously embedded in his armour. In the third hit she trowed her kevlar-protected elbow in his face cracking his helmet. On the fourth blow Alice took the mercenary's stick and used it to hit him in the face again, the blow was strong enough to knock him back to the ground with his knees even hitting the side of his head.

Damn, the guy was bent in half like he was being fucked. Alice thought, watching the strangely contorted body on the floor, That must have knocked some vertebra out of its place, this one will never walk again.

Alice tossed her staff aside, seriously considering getting one as well, and walked over to the two men who had finished their fights at the same time as she had. A feeling of familiarity washed over her as she saw the two of them standing side by side like they had years ago before everything went wrong.

— I must admit I missed seeing you in action. — Jason's voice filled the momentary silence.

Before an answer could be given, one of the mercenaries returned and fired a laser beam towards them.

— Watch out! — Jason screamed, stepping in front of Alice and getting hit instead.

Both were thrown a few meters back, Alice blinked slowly in bewilderment after being hit in the face by Jason's helmet. The two squirmed on the ground as Bruce tackled the mercenary, failing faster than expected. Alice lifted her face from the ground recovering only to receive another fierce kick. When she looked up again, she saw Jason immobilized by the mercenary who was ready to blow his head right there.

Jason's name caught in her throat along with a desperate scream.

— Let him go. — Batman ordered standing up holding a high voltage taser. — And it's better to stay away.

At that moment that Alice realized that Bruce knows who is under the helmet and that if she hadn't found out on her own she would probably have been blindsided for quite some time as Bruce would obviously keep it a secret and possibly take her off the case.

How typical.

— A Taser? — The mercenary practically mocked. — If you shoot, you'll fry us both!

— No! — Alice exclaimed, standing up right behind the two men.

— Maybe that's what he wants. — Jason muttered before shoving a device into the mercenary suit's single eye.

Jason was immediately released as the other man was electrocuted by the object, not long after his head exploded. Alice, who was just a few steps away, was showered with the splattered blood. She stood still, feeling the thick liquid of iron smell and taste run down her face, hair and attire.

Slowly, Alice brought a trembling hand to her mouth where she weakly wiped away the blood that covered her lips. Alice had seen people die before, but knowing that Jason had done something like that scared her in a way it hadn't in years.

— You should thank me for killing just one of them. — Jason said staring at the dead man's headless body. Behind him, Bruce stood in shock. — They're all murderers.

— And you are what? — Batman scolded, squeezing his hands into tight fists. Alice thought of several answers, but the one that stood out the most was the word son.

— I'm cleaning up Gotham. It's so much more than you've ever done.

— You're stealing Black Mask's territory and killing everyone who gets in your way!

— Black Mask is only part of the plan. — For some reason, Jason’s answer sent a fearful shiver through Alice’s body, who by then was just a spectator to the two men’s conversation.

— Plan? You're turning into a Crime Lord.

— Yes, I am! There is no way to stop crime. This is something you never understood! The only way is to control it, and that's what I'm doing, I'm controlling it. — A part of Alice can't disagree with Jason.

— You want to dominate them with fear, but what do you do with the ones don't fear you? You finish them off!

— Tell me what happened to you, I'll help you! — Bruce’s proposal stiffens Jason’s body slightly.

— Too late. You already had your chance.

— Jay… — Alice called quietly, only for the man almost beside her to hear.

Alice looked at him ready to approach, but Jason shook his head in denial before throwing a smoke bomb on the ground and running away.

When the smoke dispersed, Alice stood in the same place, trying to understand how things got that way. What did they do wrong to deserve this. And once again in her life, it was as if Jason had slipped through her fingers and there was nothing she could do to get him back.

Jason needs space. He needs to go his own way… But Alice can't breathe as they walk at his pace.

#Jason Todd x Reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x oc #jason todd x oc #batman x oc

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