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asheurbanipal · 1 day

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If I have your wife, then kill me and eat me whole

on A03

<<Previous Episode

Summary:

As Logan and Wade move out of their honeymoon phase, more complex relationship issues emerge. For Wade, it's a surge of jealousy. A jealousy that Logan is doing everything in his power not to reflect back, reigning in its destructive power. It takes a harrowing encounter with a bolt cutter to get them on the same page.

Deadpool/Wolverine

Explicit

Words: 7044

One-shot in series

Content: angst, oral, jealousy, violence, mild torture. kidnapping

Should have gone to the gay bar. Those vibes look immaculate over there.

Wade laid his hands loosely around a chipped highball glass and a bottle of the shittiest beer imaginable, the bar dark against his back. He ran through the last few days, double checking everything off the list.

Day one: recon. No issue. Their security was garbage.

Day two: copy the data. Easy. Just slap that bitch on a flashdrive.

Day three: flash drive delivery to a drop location but not before making a copy to pass off to the X-Men. Not that the client knew about that part.

Day four: attacked by a group of ninja? Samurai? Some kind of a fighting force all in black with a weird overtone of anti-Asian stereotyping. They were clearly pissed off about the whole "stealing information" thing, and he and Logan kind of accidentally killed them all before finding out the details.

Oops.

And not even any hand-written letters laying out revenge plans to scavenge from a corpse.

In order to do mercenary work while still upholding the moral standards of the X-Men, Logan had a set of rules and compromises to follow if he was going to join Wade on a job. No politics. Nothing that harmed a pro-mutant organization. Nothing that got in the way of scientific progress (that was a special request from Hank). The X-Men got a copy of any data obtained during corporate espionage. They may not need it, at the moment, but knowledge was power.

And as few corpses as possible with the ideal number being zero.

Oops, again.

I'll take the heat on that one with Mr. Lazer and Wheels.

If Logan slipped up too much on a mission or let Wade get too far afield, they might lose access to the little cottage on the edge of the mansion property. Xavier, at some point, had conceived of a version of the school that was a little more…general? Something like that? And that meant non-mutant teachers, maybe? Wade was still unclear on the reasoning, just that it meant there were little two-room cabins scattered at the far extents of the grounds. These had been offered as a place for him and Logan to live as long as they behaved.

It had been very hard to behave.

They had been able to get a drop-off from the Blackbird on its way to whatever business, but they had to drive back over the next two days. They had taken off right after dealing with the vaguely racist commandos, so they were still dressed in their suits from the neck down. Logan needed a "goddamn drink" before they settled in for the night at the nearby shit-fuck motel. The only place that would take cash and not ask questions. No credit cards when someone was on your ass.

And Logan had pulled him into this place. Dark. Depressing. Okay, yeah, maybe perfect, honestly. Wade slammed back a swig from his bottle, then rolled it along its bottom edge.

A body dropped onto the barstool next to him. Wade gave the guy half a glance but didn't linger. He didn't look like someone out to kill him. Not a recognizable antagonist. Kind of weird that he sat right there, but then people were allowed to be weird in a perfectly mundane fashion.

Still…

He flicked a knife on the inside of his wrist and waited for shit to get stupid.

"You here alone?" the fucking weirdo asked. This time Wade actually looked at him. Big guy, soft and jowly, trucker cap on backwards, greasy with a sort of mullet thing happening. Patchy, gross-ass goatee. Just a real mess of a man.

"No, here with my boyfriend. But he's taking a piss." Wade tapped the edge of the glass of Wild Turkey that he was guarding for Logan.

"Boyfriend?" Gross-dude took a swig of his Coors Lite.

"Yeah. He's The Wolverine. The X-Man Wolverine."

"I'm sure he is." They guy leaned in, moving his body into Wade's space.

"No, I mean that literally. And he will kick your ass." Wade flexed his wrist, tipping his knife into place.

Gross-dude dropped his hand from the bar then started sliding it across Wade's thigh.

"Maybe you give my little wolverine a try?"

Oh that is the dumbest fucking thing I've ever heard.

Wade twitched the knife. He saw the image in his head, blade through the man's hand into his thigh. His reaction would be worth the pain and annoyance of repairing his suit.

Then out of the corner of his eye, the bathroom door opened.

Oh no let Logan do it. That'll be hilarious.

#####

What an absolute nightmare of a job.

And now some asshole had his hand on Wade's thigh. He knew that was Deadpool, right? That he was about twenty seconds away from massive amounts of pain?

But Wade wasn't doing anything. PTSD reaction? Freeze response?

No, Wade was fucking with him, probably. Some kind of weird goof. Better to step in before the guy got knocked down and didn't wake up again. He moved across the room to Wade's other side, slid a thumb through a loop on the back of Wade's suit, and plucked the worst bourbon he'd ever had up from the ring of Wade's arms.

"Hey, babe, are we ready to go soon?" They hadn't opened a tab, paying in cash, so they could just leave if this was going to be a problem.

"Yeah, I was just talking to my new friend." Wade's eyes narrowed at him in annoyance. Logan glanced down to see the man's hand slowly retreating. He had gotten the message. They were good to go. The man started backing away, hands up.

But Wade kept looking at him. Then back at Logan. Then back at the man as he moved away. Then back at Logan. There was something there, like he was attempting to communicate without words. He could barely communicate with his words, so this wasn't effective.

"Really?" Wade finally said.

"What?" Logan took another sip of his drink.

"Fucking…fine."

The mad had made it back to his group of friends. Wade broke from Logan's light hook on his suit and took two steps to close the gap. With a single downward motion, he slammed one of his wrist knives into the guy's shoulder. Nothing vital, but something that would hurt like a sonofabitch going in and coming out. The guy spun around, falling back against the hightop behind him.

"It was a joke!" he gasped. "Hundred bucks for whoever pretended to hit on you."

"Oh. So you have to pretend? Not hot enough for a truck-stop impulse buy Billy Ray Cyrus?"

Logan hooked his arm under Wade's. There was a stack of cash on the table; the payout for the bet. He snatched it and tucked it into his belt.

"Payment for me not letting him kick your asses," Logan growled. "Wade, let's go." He dragged him across the room.

"Consent motherfuckers!" Wade barked as Logan managed to wrestle him through the door. They stumbled out onto the sidewalk, something saccharine and poppy but tantalizingly addictive drifting from the neon-colored club across the road.

Their motel was right down the street, a planned walking distance.

"You good?" Logan asked, wrapping his arm around Wade's waist. He pulled away.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he whined.

"With me ? What's wrong with you ?"

But Wade just huffed, taking off into the darkness.

It was going to be one of those nights.

"Like I just love how you see a man flirting with me, and you don't do anything."

There it was. It was two in the morning and Wade had been laying there next to him in their shitty motel bed, fuming silently. Logan had drifted into a very light sleep, but knew this was coming. He pressed his palms to his eyes and sat up a little, bed complaining under his weight.

"He wasn't actually flirting with you."

"You didn't know that when you came out of the bathroom. I didn't even know that. You just saw a guy with his hand on my thigh, and you didn't do anything."

Logan took a few deep breaths. Wade always worked from an internal logic. He just had to figure out what it was.

"I came over. I put my hand on you. Acted intimidatingly. He left without a fight." He tried to be measured without sounding condescending or sarcastic. They couldn't both be bad at this, and he was trying so hard. "What else would you have liked me to do?"

"Stab him in the face."

"I'm not going to go straight to stabbing if I can de-escalate. We de-escalated….until you stabbed him, I guess. We talked about this. Stab first and ask questions later is something I'm trying to move away from."

"No, okay. I get the little code of ethics and anger management routine you're stuck on. That's not the problem." Wade lifted his hands, gesticulating in the dark.

"Was there something I didn't see? Were you in danger that I didn't notice?"

"No! He was just some asshole." He was getting madder and madder, but this line of questioning was working. He was narrowing in on the actual problem. And even under the anger he could hear Wade forcing himself to work out his issue verbally. As frustrated as he was, he was still managing to peel away layers.

"Then I don't understand. What did you want me to do?"

"I wanted you to be mad!"

"I was upset."

"No!" He shot up in bed. "I want you to be so mad that a guy is touching me that you inflict massive bodily harm."

Logically, that wasn't going to happen. Yeah, he had sliced and diced for lesser things, but he was actively trying to not do that, now. Trying to rein it in. Create some fucking longevity instead of being ready to go out guns blazing at the next given opportunity.

But, holy fuck, maybe he actually saw what Wade was upset about.

"You want me to be jealous of other people showing you attention."

"Yes! Yes oh my god! Yes! Thank you. What is the point of having a super hot X-Men boyfriend with metal for fingers if he doesn't use them to scare other men away?"

"Is it just men?"

"What?"

"What if a woman hits on you?"

And that short-circuited him, body-slumping over to think.

"Okay, come on, lay back down." Logan opened his arms, and Wade crawled in obediently. He was a creature of habit if nothing else. "We'll talk about it more in the morning."

Wade nodded against his chest. He would either forget about it completely, or this was going to last for a week. Only the next day would tell.

#####

"Jelly bean, buy me this shirt."

"Why?"

"Because you love me."

"Well, yes. Obviously." Logan's hand found a place in the small of Wade's back as he leaned in for a closer look at the display through the window. "But you have literally a dozen shirts with that fucking cat on it. You don't need another one."

"Yeah, but this one has Kuromi." Wade swung around the archway into the store and made for the t-shirt wall, hoodie up, one hand in his pocket, the other around his drink. He didn't actually want anything. They had only stopped at the mall to grab some food and shake this black van that had been following them the past hour. Dragging The Wolverine into Hot Topic was just the top five funniest things of all time. He looked ridiculous in work boots and tight Levi's and t-shirt stretching taught over his chest

fucking stop it you're in public

I'm gonna tear that ass up later, though.

Logan was better at compartmentalizing his horniness and letting it all out at once in an appropriate place. Maybe that was part of the issue.

Because the bar thing was still needling at him.

They had resolved it last night. Logan understood why he was upset. He, in fact, went out of his way to try to understand why Wade was upset. That therapy shit was working. Maybe he ought to start going again. Because goddamn they were killing this whole communication business.

He watched Logan sip his fountain drink and gently flick through the metal grate of earrings. Logan pulled one off the display.

"You think Laura would like these?" he asked, showing them to Wade around the side of the grate. They were little bloody daggers that dangled, so yeah probably. One problem.

"They're one hundred percent her vibe, but her ears aren't pierced." Wade sipped on his bubble tea loudly. Logan stared at the earring card.

"They aren't?"

Wade leaned in to speak in a low voice. Fuck if he wasn't going to occasionally practice a modicum of decency in public.

"Remember when we were talking about dick piercings?"

"Right, healing factor." He slid the earrings back.

"That is some excellent fathering, right there."

"Shut the fuck up."

"If your daughter can't get piercings, you can order clip-on converters online." The girl came out of nowhere, anime shirt and baggy jeans and oh my god was scene hair coming back? She was with a small group, maybe seventeen or eighteen years old.

And all of them were staring at Logan as they milled around the store. Hungry eyes. Undressing him in their minds. He knew that look because he did it all the time. Only he was allowed to do it. These girls…these minors… weren't.

The rage was hotter than he expected. Like… a lot. Like if he had his guns on him, there would be a non-zero chance of brain and blood splatter across the Nightmare Before Christmas display.

"Shit. Okay." Logan pulled the earrings right back down then grabbed a few more sets, a variety of skulls and other cutesy depictions of deadly weaponry. "Did you actually want that t-shirt, babe?"

"No, I was just fuckin' with ya, honey bunny." The girls looked between them, taking in the implication of the exchange. Good.

Yeah, I get it. I look like a hairless cat in drag. But I'm the one that pulled that hottie. That ass belongs to me. That mouth? Around my dick. Conversations about our deepest fears and lingering traumas? Yeah, I'm the one he has those with.

That last one was the sexiest.

"Wade?" Logan was at the door, already checked out and shoving his wallet back into his jeans.

"Coming!" Wade shuffled back out through the door, glancing around the edge of his hood at the nearest girl.

Coming for me TONIGHT more like.

fuck, chill out, Wade

"You were giving that girl in there the evil eye," Logan said quietly, knocking his body against Wade's.

"She was making eyes at my boyfriend." Wade slipped his arm into Logan's forcefully. Logan chuckled.

"I think they were just being friendly. They saw a useless old man and tried to help."

"You cannot be this fucking dense, you immaculate asshole."

"I…okay…I'm flattered you think teen girls would be into me, but you might be a little biased."

"I'm certainly bi about that ass."

"That was a really bad one."

"They can't all be winners." Wade sucked down the last of his drink and tossed it in the trash as they passed. Logan reached over to do the same, and kissed Wade on the cheek in the process.

"Does it make you mad to think of other people being attracted to me?" Logan asked, fishing.

"Absolutely livid. If I so much as think about someone looking at you with a lustful gaze, it's like…flames…shooting…off the side of my face. And I think about it all the time. When we're out in public I just know that people are looking at you then looking at me and being like 'oh, the bar is in hell, I guess.' But I'm sensible enough to know this level of obsession isn't normal, so I haven't stabbed anyone. Yet."

"Hm, okay." Logan's voice settled into a cadence of contemplation.

no no no that makes me feel icky inside

"'Hm, okay' what? I don't like it when you think inside thoughts."

"I'm allowed to have those."

"Not around me you aren't."

"Jesus fuck, Wade. Okay." He moved them into a side hallway that led down to the bathrooms and other backside navigation. "I didn't understand why you were upset last night because I don't think the same way you do. I don't get mad about people hitting on you. I don't even really think about it. It's not something I worry about at all. So-"

"Why don't you think about it?" Wade shoved his hands in his pockets. There was that sick feeling. The one that lurked in the back of his head. That this was all temporary. A happiness that he wasn't allowed to have.

"That's what I'm getting to-"

"You don't think I'm attractive enough? That other people wouldn't look at me like that?"

"Wade-"

"I mean I get that I look like a piebald moose testicle-"

"Please don't do that-"

"-but to actually hear it from you."

Logan slapped his hands around Wade's shoulders.

"Wade, I-" Wade didn't hear the other side of the statement, his vision going suddenly black.

#####

Wade crumpled in front of him, and he only just managed to catch him as he fell.

The people in the black van had found them, but where the fuck were they? There were too many people here. He couldn't get a scent on them. No sound.

Something sharp bit into his neck and he slapped at it. Tiny blow dart. His vision swam, but it would take more than that to bring him down, the healing factor working immediately to purge it. Another one caught him in the middle of his back. Where the fuck was it coming from? He scrabbled along his own spine, trying to pry the dart out while still holding Wade against him. This one had more of a punch, and the sway started overtaking him.

No.

This was a bullshit way to go out.

He hit his knee, bringing Wade down with him.

"Wade…wake up. Fucking heal already." But then he felt his body fumble and fall into blackness.

"They're waking up. Dose them again."

"These motherfuckers are heavy."

Ropes around the wrist and knees. Laying in the back of a van. Moving down the highway fast. Another bite on the ankle and the world faded again.

"Hey, pookie bear, wake up." Something bonked lightly into the back of his skull.

"Fuck." He startled back into consciousness. They were tied up back to back on chairs in a dark, nondescript room. "Oh this is stupid as fuck. Are these the people we stole the data from?"

"Probably," Wade said idly. There was a one-way window to his left, and he looked at Wade in the reflection. He was slumped a little but alert.

Logan tested how he had been tied to the chair. It was tight. Something stronger than it looked. Any old asshole could get adamantium and vibranium and all that shit, anymore. He flung out a claw, but the angle was wrong to do a direct cut. Together they should be fine to get out, though. Wade had a dozen knives on him at any given moment.

"Alright. What's our plan?" Logan asked.

"What do you mean you don't worry about people hitting on me?"

"Are we really doing this, right now?"

"We've got time!"

"Gentlemen. You're awake." A nondescript man dressed in black sauntered in through a gray metal door. A pair of bolt cutters were slung over his arm. This was one of those kinds of sessions.

"Can this wait?" Wade asked with a pout. "We were in the middle of a relationship altering conversation."

This gave the man a bit of a pause, but he kept moving slowly, circling around to Wade.

"Now, I recognize some professionals when I see them. So I'll cut to it quickly." He tapped the bolt cutter to Wade's hand. "Who sent you to steal from me?" He poised the cutter over Wade's pinky.

"Bruh," Wade tsked. "I don't fucking know. Logie, my question."

"Wade, honey. Please pay attention to what's happening, right now." Logan wriggled their lashed together chairs.

"Oh what's he gonna do, take a finger?"

And he did, the cutter moving through Wade's pinky with a crack and squish. Wade jerked with the pain, but moved right back into the conversation.

"I need an answer, Logan."

"Christ," Logan muttered. "No you're not conventionally attractive. Okay? So realistically I wouldn't expect you to get hit on by randos compared to, I don't know, fuckin' Ryan Reynolds."

"AHA! I THOUGHT SO!" The chairs jumped with his movement.

"But that's not the point, goddamnit. I think you're hot as fuck, and that's all that should matter. I'm the only attention you should care about."

"Oh. Hm." Wade rocked their chairs a little.

"Okay, as adorable as this is, I still have my own questions." Bolt cutter guy positioned the thing over Wade's next finger. "Who are you working for?."

"Your mother," Wade replied. "She hired me after I was done blowing her back out then providing appropriate after care."

The sound of the crunch on his next finger got lost under Wade's next complaint.

"So you wouldn't be mad if someone tried to pick me up in a bar?"

"No…not really...Because you're going home with me, in the end."

"I really need an answer to my questions, so let me remind you," bolt-cutter said.

CRUNCH.

"Okay, that one fucking hurt a little," Wade said then turned back to the window to look at Logan in the reflection. "So you just…don't care? You don't care if some drunk dude slides his hands down my pants."

"I don't understand what's happening here," bolt cutter guy said.

CrUncH?

"I know that if some drunk guy slides his hands down your pants, he's not going home with a hand, Wade. If he goes home at all. So, yeah, I'll be mad that you had to go through something like that, and take revenge as needed, but I know you'll fucking deal with it. You're supposed to be the one I don't have to worry about." He hadn't said it out loud. It felt like too much pressure to put on the relationship. But now things were getting dire.

cr-u-n-ch

"What the fuck does that mean?" Wade tried spinning, but he was stopped by the strapping on the chair.

"I swear to God…" Bolt cutter guy started moving away, but Logan was too focused on Wade in the reflection to keep tracking him.

"Everyone I love dies. Or gets converted to sapient space dust. Or didn't actually exist because the memory was implanted by some asshole. You just lost five fingers and still have the energy to bitch at me. I don't have to worry if my claws come out at the wrong time around you. If anything, you like it."

"I do. I'll admit that."

"I don't have to worry about you 24/7. I don't have to constantly think about how I'm going to protect you or if I can rescue you in time if a merc job goes wrong. Because you can take care of yourself. I can just breathe and focus on just being a person. Being a couple. Because I know you're going to come home at the end of the day."

"Maybe I want to be saved, sometimes." Wade squirmed in the chair, trying to get his face around to Logan's shoulder. "Maybe I don't want to have to take care of myself and let someone else do it. Maybe I'm also tired of having to protect everyone that I Iove all the time from goddamn mystical, world-ending bullshit. It's literally the reason I came and got you. To help me. So that I wouldn't have to do it alone. Maybe I don't want to have to carry that weight all the time either. It's too heavy."

"Fuck," Logan sighed. "You're right. I get what you're saying. Let's take some time after this to work it out."

"Maybe you stab a barista that smiles at me too long."

"We'll circle back to that."

"You people are fucking insane." They both jumped, briefly forgetting bolt cutter guy was there. "But I still need my answers. So maybe I switch gears." He moved from Wade to Logan, and tapped the circle of blade to Logan's hand.

"Oh, no, those little piggies are mine, " growled Wade.

With the disgusting crunch of a dislocated shoulder and elbow, Wade managed to wriggle out of the bindings around his arms.

"Could you do that the whole time?" Logan asked.

"We were having a conversation," Wade replied.

Loose from the bindings, he had enough space to pull the knife from the hidden space in the pocket of his hoodie and swing it hard into the side of bolt cutter guy. These idiots hadn't fully patted him down. Rookie mistake.

The bolt cutter guy had thought this would go his way. He didn't have a backup plan beyond screaming about the knife now in his pancreas, swinging the cutter around in a panic. This left plenty of time for Wade to reach down and break the chair legs free of the base. This didn't release the bindings around his ankles, but he could walk. He snapped his joints back into place with a series of cracks.

"Who the fuck are you people?" Bolt-cutter backed up against the wall.

"You really don't know? Holy shit." Wade pulled the knife free. With the force of that he lost his grip on the bolt-cutters.

Wade sliced down through the bindings keeping Logan to the chair.

"I'm Deadpool, and that's the goddamn Wolverine."

The bolt cutter guy reared back to swing the cutters, aiming for Wade's head with the rest of his strength.

Logan was as fast as Wade, ripping free from the chair, claws coming out in the time he crossed the room. A single movement up through his ribs, and bolt cutter guy dropped like a rock. They stared down at him, both covered in splatters of his blood.

"How much do you actually want to fight your way out of here?" Logan sighed.

"My swords and guns are in the car, so it won't be nearly as fun." Wade leaned against the wall, wiping his knife on his hoodie.

"Thinking the same thing." Logan moved toward the one-way window. Someone had to be on the other side. He tapped on the glass with the tip of his claw. "You got ten minutes, and we're busting through that door. We will be leaving. You decide what that looks like. This is the chance you get to go home to your kids tonight."

Wade sidled up to him, slipping his arms around Logan's waist.

"I've…uh…I've lost a little more blood than I realized."

Logan went to the bottom of his shirt and ripped strips away.

"Give them here," Logan said. "Wrap your hand while I see where your fingers got to." He wandered back to the chair, searching the floor.

"You don't have to do that, chicken tender."

"It's faster, right? And they're all right here." Logan scooped them up from the floor. "Pretty clear cut. What fucking brand are these?" Logan also grabbed the bolt cutters, throwing them over his shoulder. "See if this brand makes hedge clippers." He held the fingers out to Wade.

"Why the fuck are you thinking about hedge clippers, right now?"

"The bush in front of the main window is too tall."

Wade held the first of the fingers in place, waiting for it to attach.

"I thought the kids on landscape duty took care of that."

"They just run the riding mower. We do the hedges and edging. Well, I do. You haven't done shit."

"Ohh, when I get all these fingers back on we should do some edging." Wade bit his bottom lip as he worked on the next finger.

"Hilarious."

"Wait, who put in the dog-run for Puppins? I assumed that was one of the kids." He had made it through all his fingers but didn't dare stretch them, yet.

"That was me. Laura helped."

"Oh…thank you. That was nice." Wade pecked Logan on the cheek.

"Those fuckin' zoomies…" But Logan didn't know what the rest of that sentence looked like and just sort of vaguely mimicked the act of running with his fingers. The crackle of a speaker came from somewhere above them, and a voice blared out.

"Okay, you might talk a big game, but if you think you're getting out of here-BLACHT"

The voice through the speaker cut off violently with a wet, choking sound. Splatty and gross. Wade jumped against Logan with surprise at the scream, clutching Logan's chest with his still healing hands.

"Oh. Wait. It's the X-Men." Wade set his head against Logan's shoulder. "No big deal." Wade knocked on the window. "We're in here, you sexy little spandex aficionados." Logan slapped his hand from the window.

"It could also be someone more annoying to deal with, and we just lost our escape window."

"Oh, no, it's totally them. I have a microtransponder in my shoe that I set off when I woke up here. These people did not pat us down well, at all."

"You have a transponder…in your shoe…"

"Mhm. They don't want to lose you as an asset, so if you come with me on a job, I have to wear it. But I also wasn't supposed to tell you. Oops."

"How long were you awake before me?" Logan canted his head toward Wade, pieces coming together now that the tranquilizer was working its way out completely.

"A while. Ran my mouth at them so they'd torture me first. Figured I hold out longer than you. Also…you know…Don't like other people putting sharp things in you."

"Wade," Logan sighed. The bolt on the door cachunked , and Logan spun, claws clicking out.

"Hallo! Please don't kill me." A furry blue hand slipped out the gap between the door and the wall and wiggled its fingers.

"Kurt, holy shit." The door swung open and Logan met Nightcrawler across the room. They shared a quick hug. "You haven't been at the mansion."

"Business to attend to." He leaned around Logan. "Good to properly meet you Wade. Bad circumstances." Logan turned. Wade had gone a bit slackjawed, thinking. He snapped back, grinning.

"Let's get the fuck out of here, huh?"

#####

I didn't like it. I didn't like him hugging the little blue man.

Wade, what the fuck is wrong with you? He's known them longer than you.

I guess technically not, because it's not actually the same Nightcrawler. But conceptually he has. Fucking hate this multiverse shit.

Just need to get my hands on him to feel better.

Get my fingers in his flesh.

The Blackbird might have swooped in to save them, but the team wasn't actually done with whatever weird little diplomatic mission they were on. Wade had been told that if he left the plane he would suffer dire consequences. Logan could join them if he wanted.

He didn't.

Suck my dick, X-Men. Logan keeps choosing me.

Why am I in goddamn competition with the entire X-Men?

"Wade, you stopped talking." They were in the cargo hold. Logan was doing arms and ammunition inventory. Wade was cleaning the rifles. It was something to keep them busy.

"You always tell me to shut up."

Logan turned sharply.

"Then I won't do that anymore. I don't actually like it when you're quiet for too long. It means you're upset about something." Logan moved across the cargo hold and dropped in front of him on the floor.

Wade put the rifle parts he was cleaning back in the bag and shoved them to the side. He opened his arms and that was the cue for Logan to crawl into his lap. He rolled forward over his knees and nestled his head into the pillow of Wade's crossed legs. Wade ran his fingers through Logan's bangs and combed them up over his crown.

"I'm still thinking about the bar thing and the torture chamber stuff. I'm not mad, though." Wade waved his hands a little to shake off that presumption. "Just trying to sort myself and why I felt the way I did. And I'm not quite there, yet. I'll get it together, eventually."

"I'm not stabbing any baristas."

"Just a little pokey poke if her hand lingers on mine and we share an unexpected moment?"

"I'll compromise by severing the ACL of the next waiter who laughs at your jokes just to get a bigger tip."

"Oh wait. No let them flirt for, like, one minute. Then crck. " He gestured across his throat with the back of his thumb. Logan chuckled, then his eyes flicked in thought.

"To be perfectly clear, I'm not actually going to do that. However, I will have a bigger reaction to you getting hit on, and I will include minor threats of violence if they're being handsy. If that's something that makes you feel good about yourself."

"Eh. I don't know why I'm making such a big deal about flirting in a bar, anyway. Not like it's a regular occurrence. Mach speed blobfish isn't exactly a look that gets a lot of play."

"Hey." Logan reached up and poked him hard in the cheeks. "What have I told you about insulting my boyfriend?"

"Self-deprecation is the foundation of my comedic genius, sugar bean. Take that from me, and I lose half my material."

He's so pretty like this. Deep, creased laugh lines. Little crinkle between his eyebrows. Long nose.

Wade ran his hands down Logan's jaw. Then he leaned down and kissed him upside down.

Spiderman style.

Wade pulled back just enough to talk.

"I don't actually need or even want you to protect me. You clearly need me to protect you, though."

"Oh, what makes you say that?" Logan reached up to peck him on the lips.

"I'm the one with a radio in my shoe."

"That they forced you to wear."

"That I was clever enough to actually wear when they told me to instead of…not…doing that…" Wade ran his hands down Logan's chest, studying the place where he'd reattached his fingers only a few hours before. There was still a thin line as the flesh continued to knit itself together. He sat back up a little, drawing his hands back to Logan's temples.

"So neither of us want to carry the weight of the world," Wade said with a drifting hum. "But we worked together on that TimeSplitter motherfucker, and we saved all of reality." Logan curled his hand over the top of Wade's.

"And we did it holding hands." Logan brought Wade's hand to his lips and kissed his palm.

"Fucking gross. When did we get this disgustingly cute?"

Logan lifted his hands to catch the sides of Wade's head.

"I've always been cute, you just had to catch up." He pulled Wade down to kiss him. He broke the kiss too soon, and Wade was about to complain before Logan turned over on his knees. He moved Wade's legs to part around him.

Oh ?

Logan hooked his thumb around the zipper of Wade's jeans and drew it down.

Yep.

His lips pressed to Wade's bulge through his boxers. He nosed open the fly and brought Wade's cock into his mouth, tongue running small circles over the tip. Wade wove his fingers through Logan's hair, locking into place, steadying himself against Logan's rhythm.

Logan Logan Logan

The refrain started up like it always did, a rattle that snaked around his brain and wiped everything else away. When Logan was touching him, he stopped thinking. He just was . He just existed as body and sensation. As nerve endings and neurochemicals.

Words that were already stupid became more senseless, that part of his brain going on autopilot.

"Take me deeper, daddy."

God, why the fuck did I say that?

Logan obliged, though, pushing into him until Wade's cock was brushing the back of his throat. His fingers went tighter in Logan's half-curls..

Sweet baby Jesus, this man is going to kill me.

#####

Wade's dick was rough, calloused like the rest of his skin. He loved it. Every time he put his mouth on Wade in some form or fashion, he fell a little more in love. In love with Wade's body. His form. In love with the pulse and beat of breath underneath.

Every time Wade talked, even when he spiraled out into nonsense, Logan found himself falling a little farther down into him. It was becoming harder and harder to imagine the version of himself that had hated him. That grew rabid with rage at his voice.

Now? He wanted to devour him. He had spent so many years suppressing his rage just for it to explode and destroy everything at the exact wrong moment. He'd spent every moment since then trying to prevent something like that from ever happening again. Even if it didn't mean anything. Even if it didn't matter. And he'd almost done it. He'd packed every emotion away into the deepest part of himself and drowned it so he'd never have to feel anything.

Then this motherfucker opened everything up again. And it became a tumult, emotions crashing over each other.

He tucked his hands up under Wade's shirt, pressing his thumbs into Wade's stomach as he took him deeper. All the way to the back of his throat. The friction of his jeans on his own erection was bringing him to a mini-climax as he ground on Wade's shin.

It rose like an ember, tensing his hands. Wade moved one hand out of his hair to touch his knuckles.

"Let the claws out if you want, peanut. No organs, please."

The double sensation of Wade in his mouth and the dry, half-orgasm was enough to overwhelm him after the day so far, and he lost control of himself before he could change his hand shape. The claws came out his palms, instead, digging into Wade's lovehandles.

It hurt like fuck, but Wade's shiver underneath him was worth it.

#####

And he might as well kill me now, because I'm already in heaven.

He clenched around the blades in his side, trying to focus on both the pinpricks of pain and the center of pleasure rising in his pelvis, wallowing in the combined rush of dopamine and endorphins.

There was the tiniest puff of sound somewhere toward the front of the jet. Through his haze of ecstasy, Wade found a way to focus his attention in that general direction.

Kurt.

He had realized what was happening mid pulling a bag down from the rack and froze. Wade lifted a finger to his lips and gestured violently with a throw of his head for him to leave. At the same time, Logan took a particularly long drag on him, drawing an absolutely unearthly sound out of Wade's body.

Kurt puffed out of existence.

That'll learn ya.

Fuck. Shit. Logan Logan

Distraction gone, his brain started shutting down again.

Logan Logan Logan

"Logan," he whispered, the sound barely forming around his lips. Logan pulled away, and Wade almost cried. Logan looked up at him through his lashes, keeping his lips barely half an inch away from the tip of Wade's cock.

"If you're going to say my name, say it properly instead of so quietly you think I can't hear you." He kissed the head. "Because I always do. Every time." He took him in again.

"Logan," Wade moaned. The moan turned to a whine as his stomach and pelvis went alight, his toes curling his shoes, tension breaking around his body. He came hard in Logan's mouth, pulling his face against his body until Logan's nose was touching where his pubic hair used to be.

He released his hands with a hard sigh and gasp, falling back against one of the bulkheads. Logan pulled back, cum and spit creating a bridge between Wade's cock and Logan's lips. He lifted up, pressing those messy lips to Wade's

"I need to do you," Wade panted into Logan's mouth.

"I'm fine," Logan said.

"Did you come in your pants, ground bear?" Wade grinned.

"No," Logan said, but there was a shade of embarrassment.

He totally did.

There was a clanging knock on the access hatch on the side into the cargo hold. Storm's voice followed.

"Entering the ship!"

"Good timing," Logan said, zipping up Wade's pants. "Imagine if they were just a few minutes earlier."

"Hahahah yeah."

Oops.

#####

Logan stood on the back porch, shirtless, letting Puppins out for her last romp of the night. The cherry red of his cigar burned out against the night sky and the glow of the mansion up the lawn.

No smoking indoors, and Wade didn't really like the smell. So he'd reduced the frequency considerably. The booze, too. He hadn't felt the need to drink nearly as often, but it was never going away completely. After the last few days, for example, a high quality scotch and a cigar did just the trick.

His phone buzzed on the side table, and he picked it up. It was Kurt. All Logan read was the word " Entschuldige" before his phone blew up with text messages from everyone on the team.

"Babe," he called back into the house. "Are emojis the same in this timeline?"

Wade drifted into the open doorway in just boxers and his off-brand Barbie hoodie that was printed off-center.

"What the fuck are you talking about, happy feet?"

Logan held up his phone to give him a better look.

"I just got a whole lot of text messages, but they're all just an eggplant, a knife, and a plane. I don't know what that means."

Wade's nostrils flared.

"Oh, I have another little German man to kill."

#poolverine #deadclaws #deadpool x wolverine #smut #fanfiction

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krafterwrites · 12 days

Text

Wait now that I think about it, have Silver and Jet ever interacted? I feel like they're a pretty popular rarepair, but I can't think of any times they've spoken to each other

#He's in Zero Gravity and Free Riders but he doesn't appear in their story modes #So I'm guessing they've interacted in one of or multiple of the Olympics games?#Bc I can't recall them ever being in a story together in Archie and while they were both in the final part of the Metal Virus arc in IDW #They were only in the same location for an issue or two #Krafter Talks

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luvjunie · 1 year

Note

earth 42 miles reaction to reader hanging up the phone on his face mid argument?

— facetime

pairing: e-42!miles (aged up) x fem!reader

contains: arguing, minimal cursing, slightly toxic behavior lol

summary: you love miles, but his overbearing nature is beginning to irritate you. the two of you get into an argument over it on facetime, and you snap at him and hang up the phone. wc: 1,537

a/n: ik the pic might not make sense regarding who hung up on who, but i like it so we finna pretend it does lol. miles/reader are only aged up for plot

“look mami, you not hearin’ me. i’m not tryna control you, i’m just saying maybe it would be best if-“

“that is literally you trying to control me.”

you cut miles off from another one of his mini tangents as you stared at him through the facetime call on your screen, so far beyond the point of caring to hear the same thing he’d told you a million times.

you loved your boyfriend with everything in you. honestly, you did. but in the last few months he’d grown to be so much more controlling than he was in the beginning, a result of his ridiculous need to protect you and it’s got your head spinning on your shoulders. you couldn’t do anything without him looming over you, and you’re fed up. it was suffocating, and you needed him to know that you could handle yourself.

you heard his voice come in again from your phone’s speakers.

“aight fine, if that’s what you wanna think, then that’s cool. but i don’t want you going out that late, chiquita, simple. ain’t no discussion.”

“alright, bro.” you sighed, and he tutted at you.

“i’m not your ‘bro’. don’t do that.”

while you knew your boyfriend only wanted the best for you, you didn’t really understand the extent to all these rules he’d given you. like no going to the corner store at night, having to keep your location on at all times, or having to send a picture of yourself when you’d gotten back into the house— so he could really make sure it was actually you texting him from your phone.

since then, you’d deemed it safe to assume that he most likely had immense trust issues, and that was why he acted so strangely, because any other reason for this kind of behavior seemed ludicrous to you.

miles had yet to tell you he was the prowler, that certain people had bounties on his head, which included anyone who may be involved with him, anyone he holds close to him. he saw everything that went on in this city— when night had fallen and the streets became far too dangerous of a place for a defenseless girl like you to be out in them. you had no idea the kind of people he dealt with, the things he’d seen, the things he had to do. he just didn’t want you to get hurt, but he wasn’t the best at expressing the sincerity of his words, and they often came out too rough, too harsh. it was the best he could do, he was trying to communicate effectively, he really was. but time and time again you’d failed to try and understand his pleas past the words spoken to you; to actually listen to them, and comprehend them, and not just listen to respond.

so, being you, you retorted like the stubborn girl you always were. the stubborn girl he’d fallen so helplessly in love with and was only trying to protect with his entire being.

you scoffed, rolling your eyes at him in disbelief. “look, you can’t tell me what to do, miles. i can do what i want.”

he didn’t hear anything that came from your mouth, because the expression on your face had completely distracted him from the conversation at hand.

“hol’ on, did you just roll your eyes at me?” his brow raised, daring you to answer that question with anything but a ‘no’.

what you responded with wasn’t necessarily a ‘yes’ per sé, but it definitely wasn’t any better.

“oh, so you wanna control my face now, too? dictating what i do with my life or the shit i say isn’t enough for you?” you challenged.

his head dipped back as he laughed, a deep, provoked laugh— though the both of you knew nothing was funny, and that this was always how he reacted before he actually got angry. laughing it off was a means for him to screw his head back on right, as if a warning to you to not push him too far, because anybody who spoke to him with this kind of gall just had to be joking.

he exhaled heavily, a hand scrubbing down his face.

“can’t lie, you talkin’ mad crazy right now, ma. i think you need to cool it with that.” he warned, corners of his lips turned into a forewarning leer. “ima let that lil’ shit you just said slide, cause i love you, and ion wanna hurt your feelings, but we done talking about this.” he decided, leaning forward to prop his phone back up on his desk before scooping his playstation controller back up into his hands.

“and watch your mouth.”

chin retreating towards your chest, you were taken aback at how quickly he decided for the both of you that the conversation was over, as if you had to agree with him, as if things were decided simply because he’d said so. and somehow, you found it in all your unbridled nerve to make things worse.

“yeah, you’re right. we are.”

thumb pressing to the red X, you hung up the phone, leaving miles to gape at the black of his screen with shock etched into his features. he waited for you to call back and tell him it was an accident, and sat there for a minute, leg bouncing to maintain what little patience he’d managed to cling onto during this entire ordeal. he swallowed his pride and called you back, only for the screen to read ‘facetime unavailable’ after just two rings. you declined it. squaring his jaw, he calmly nodded to himself, phone snatched up, jacket thrown on and controller tossed onto his bed— game forgotten about.

“bet.”

____

you were fuming after you’d hung up the phone, steam probably would’ve been puffing from your ears if something like that were possible outside of the cartoons. there was a tiny part—no, a huge part of you that knew you shouldn’t have hung up on him like that; that regretted it. a part that knew miles’ was genuinely trying his best to speak to you calmly in the way he’d learned how, specifically for you, when calm was something he rarely ever felt. but you couldn’t help your anger either, and figured a break from the conversation, and a shower to calm you down would do the both of you some good.

you sauntered out your bathroom after about twenty minutes, a towel tightly wrapped round your damp torso and a heavy, depleted exhale departing from your lungs.

you felt relaxed. the heat of the water had washed away most, if not all of your anger towards the situation and you sighed to yourself, ready to come back to the discussion with a level head, and to apologize to your boyfriend for snapping at him and ending the call so abruptly. it was rude of you, and honestly you hadn’t thought it through until you had already—

“you know, ion usually fuck with cats like that, cause y’all kinda freak me out. but you cool.”

the inner dialogue of your thoughts were cut off by a familiar voice, muffled through the shut door of your bedroom.

“what the fuck—“ you hurriedly started towards the door, hand barely remaining on the doorknob for a second as you flung it open, to see none other than your boyfriend, miles, sat in your desk chair with your cat, bella, in his lap.

he was leaned back, his large green puffer jacket still on, legs spread in his grey sweats. he looked very comfortable for someone who had just broken into a home.

“how the hell did you get into my house, miles?”

you stared at him unbelievingly, quickly shutting the door behind you. he was in no rush to lift his head to address you directly as he scratched the underside of bella’s chin with his pointer finger.

“window. you should really lock that.”

“even if i had, you would’ve picked it.” you argued.

“true.”

his eyes eventually met yours, and they gave you a drawn out once over, gaze following the drops of water that rolled down your skin. there was a hint of a smirk on his lips, and he almost forgot what he came here for. almost.

you felt your face heat up, grip tightening over your bath towel as you shifted on your feet, suddenly feeling flustered from the boldness of his gaze. so he looked away.

“let’s hope that shower gave your mama some of her sense back, huh?” he dipped his head down to address your cat in a sweet voice, before gently lifting her off his lap and placing her back onto the floor, only for her to drag her head and body along his calf with a purr. traitor.

he leaned back once more, hands patiently clasped between his open legs and head cocked to the side, twin braids swishing behind him when he did so.

“so wassup? you wanna try that conversation again?” with a brow raised he studied your features, as if he were silently challenging you to talk that same shit you did over the phone to his face.

“do you know what boundaries are?”

“nah, not really.” he admitted.

you swallowed, gesturing towards the open room for a reason you didn’t know why.

“can i at least get dressed first?” you cringed at how your voice sounded when you spoke, but the way he was looking at you had your mind reeling and you could only focus on one thing at a time— the argument long forgotten. to be honest, you don’t even recall what you had a problem with.

he shrugged. “sure, if that’s what you’d like.” arms crossing over his chest he spun around in your swivel chair, now facing the same window he’d come in through. “lemme know when i can turn around.”

you sighed.

this boy was going to be the death of you.

- please do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my works to other platforms!

likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated 💗

#junie’s works ᥫ᭡#across the spiderverse #miles g morales #miles morales #earth 42 miles morales #miles morales fanfiction #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles morales prowler #42 miles morales #miles morales x reader #miles morales x y/n #earth 42 miles x reader #miles 42 #prowler miles fanfic #atsv prowler #prowler miles #prowler miles fluff

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secretmellowblog · 1 year

Text

On the subject of the Titanic ‘submersible’ that was lost in the deep with all its wealthy tourists— it’s so insane/eerie in hindsight to read this article from the Smithsonian that interviews the CEO Stockton Rush long before the disaster.

Despite the Smithsonian supposedly being an organization that cares about science and truth, and the fact that there were SO MANY obvious red flags from the beginning and so many people criticizing the company…..the article is a puff piece uncritically glorifying the CEO’s obviously terrible submersible project. It compares him in glowing terms to Elon Musk. It is an article about how private ventures like those of Stockton Rush and Elon Musk can and should be the future of the world.

We’ve obviously learned now that there were whistleblowers at the company who were warning for a long time that Stockton Rush’s submersible was unsafe— only to be fired and then sued. It makes sense the submersible was so unsafe, because the CEO in this interview is open about how he has no background in underwater engineering and is annoyed by quote “regulations that needlessly prioritize passenger safety.”

Soon after, the private [submersible] market died too, Rush found, for two reasons that were “understandable but illogical.” First, subs gained a reputation for danger. Working on offshore rigs in harsh locations like the North Sea, saturation divers, who breathe gas mixtures to avoid diving sicknesses, would be taken in subs to work at great depths. It was the world’s most perilous job, with frequent fatalities. (“It wasn’t the sub’s fault,” says Rush.) To save lives, the industries moved toward using underwater robots to perform the same work.

Second, tourist subs, which could once be skippered by anyone with a U.S. Coast Guard captain’s license, were regulated by the Passenger Vessel Safety Act of 1993, which imposed rigorous new manufacturing and inspection requirements and prohibited dives below 150 feet. The law was well-meaning, Rush says, but he believes it needlessly prioritized passenger safety over commercial innovation (a position a less adventurous submariner might find open to debate). “There hasn’t been an injury in the commercial sub industry in over 35 years. It’s obscenely safe, because they have all these regulations. But it also hasn’t innovated or grown—because they have all these regulations.”

The fact that Stockton Rush (who was piloting the submarine when the disaster happened) is on record complaining about the evils of regulations that prioritize people’s safety, and the Smithsonian uncritically regurgitated that rhetoric in their glowing puff piece about how rich tycoons like Elon Musk and Stockton Rush are going to save the world is just…..in hindsight of how everything ended it’s just so much horrible black comedy? It’s like a satire about the dangers of uncritically worshipping the rich.

It is mentioned in the article that Rush chose to make his submersible in a different shape, and with a different (cheaper) material than is usually used for submersibles. The article frames this as a result of daring innovation, and not of negligence/ignorance. This passage in particular, which in context is supposed to portray Rush’s critics as joyless naysayers who were proven wrong by the noble tycoon, is pretty foreboding in hindsight:

Rush planned to pilot the sub himself, which critics said was an unnecessary risk: Under pressure, the experimental carbon fiber hull might, in the jargon of the sub world, “collapse catastrophically.”

And then!!

The exact problem that happened to Titan this weekend, happened on Titan’s very first test voyage to the Titanic! The experimental carbon fiber hull had an issue and it caused communications to break down!

The dive was going according to plan until about 10,000 feet, when the descent unexpectedly halted, possibly, Rush says, because the density of the salt water added extra buoyancy to the carbon fiber hull. He now used thrusters to drive Titan deeper, which interfered with the communications system, and he lost contact with the support crew. He recalls the next hour in hallucinogenic terms. “It was like being on the Starship Enterprise,” he says. “There were these particles going by, like stars. Every so often a jellyfish would go whipping by. It was the childhood dream.”

Both Rush and the article writer treat this as a fun quirky story, instead of a serious safety failure and red flag with his experimental macgyvered regulation-flaunting submersible.

Other highlights from the article include:

Stockton rush saying that if 3/4 of the planet is water, why haven’t we monetized it?

Stockton saying we will “colonize the ocean long before we colonize space”

Lots of weird pro colonialism stuff in general??? This article loves colonialism and thinks it’s cool

Rush saying he plans for this to eventually help find more underwater resources for the US to exploit and profit from

Elon musk comparisons. The article writer does not mention that Elon Musk’s rockets explode and therefore it would be a bad idea to get in one of them, because that would imply it’s a bad idea to get into the submersible

Stockton rush seeing himself as Captain Kirk

The article writer comparing the tourists who plan to join Rush to Englishmen who went on colonialist journeys to Africa as if that’s like, a good thing. So much pro colonialism stuff in this article

So many sentences about Stockton Rush being handsome when he literally just looks like some guy

The article beginning with an editor’s note from years later disclaiming that the extraordinary submersible they’re advertising in this article is uh. It’s now uhhhh

But yeah it really does just bring home how so many organizations that supposedly care about scientific truth or journalistic integrity are willing to uncritically platform propaganda for wealthy CEOS. It’s frustrating how easily people fall for the fake myths that careless wealthy people invent for themselves, and even more frustrating that supposedly respectable institutions will platform irresponsible lies that end up getting people killed.

Rush is such an obvious and simple example of this, and his negligence is “only” killing five people including himself. But to me it feels like a cautionary tale to bear in mind when it comes to uncritical puff piece media coverage of similar “daring tycoon innovations” by people like Bezos or Musk.

#titanic #oceangate #titanic submersible #sorry this is just so fascinating to me #it’s like a parody or piece of satire #if it were in a novel it would feel like the symbolism was too obvious and on the nose

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spenceobsessed · 7 months

Text

post prison!spencer reid x fem!reader

genre: enemies to lovers, smut with a plot

summary: spencer can't help but despise his "replacement", especially during an undercover mission in a nightclub.

MDNI 18+

“this is insane.” penelope garcia mutters on the other end of the phone call. “there’s no way jeffery was able to absolutely take himself off the internet.” she huffs, the keyboard clicking in the background. “i’m gonna keep working. i’ll be back in a jiffy, i swear!” she says sweetly before hanging up.

the unsub, jeffery hogan had abducted then murdered four young women in los angeles california. the team had been in la for three days now, and jeffery had already killed two more women before they could stop him. all of them were getting antsy and a little angry.

you sigh, leaning back in your chair as the rest of the team begins talking amongst themselves, minus spencer, who had been staring at a map for twenty minutes.

“reid.” you say, catching his attention. he doesn’t look up, but you can tell that your voice startled him slightly.

“hmm?” he says, annoyance lacing his tone. you roll your eyes. he had been an absolute dick to you since day one. the whole team had described him as a saint, yet, you couldn’t see it. yes, he was attractive, but that didn’t distract from how hateful he was towards you. plus, you had been nothing but nice to him when you first met him, doing nothing to get on his bad side.

“did you make a connection between the locations?” you ask curtly. he huffs. “i don’t see you doing anything helpful.” he snaps, finally looking up from his map to glare at you.

“spence,” jj begins, joining the conversation unknowingly. “any connections?” he smiles and turns to face her, like you hadn’t just asked the same question.

“the one common location that overlaps with all the crime scenes and significant places in jeffery’s life is the ‘night owl’, a local night club.” reid says, smirking at you when he finishes his sentence like a teenager. you scoff.

emily gives them a look that says “act professional please”.

“we have no idea what he looks like, we only know bits and pieces of his life that garcia could dig up, how are we going to catch him?” matt asks, leaning against a wall with his arms crossed, a coffee in hand.

“i could go undercover,” you begin with a shrug. “most of the girls he abducted have been around my age and have my same features.” emily nods in agreement.

“one issue.” rossi says. “the unsub has always abducted women on dates.” you nod. that’s true.

“i could go with you.” matt says, standing up straight and taking a sip of his coffee. you open your mouth to thank him but emily cuts you off.

“no offense simmons, but what if we sent in reid instead? he closer matches y/n’s age and resembles the victims boyfriends more closely.”

spencer opens his mouth to protest but tara cuts him off with a smile. “great idea, you guys should leave in an hour or so, you better start getting ready.”

you watch as reid fights the urge to say something rude, but is quickly whisked away by emily.

jj helps you get ready in another conference room of the precinct, dressing you like the average clubber.

your outfit is a small, tight, red mini dress, with matching heels and accessories. you had to admit, you looked good. you found yourself wondering what they had put reid in and whether he would find you attractive in this tight dress.

“you look amazing.” a voice breaks you out of your trance as you’re putting in an ear piece. you smile, turning to face emily.

“thank you.” you say softly, using your hands to smooth out your dress. “i think i’m ready.” you add, slightly nervous. emily reassures you that you will do great and asks you to follow her outside.

that’s where you’re met with spencer reid. he looks unfortunately handsome, hot even, wearing the most casual “spencer outfit” you have ever seen: corduroy pants, converse, and a white button down. the white button down was sheer linen (very beachy) and allowed you to barely see his chest. you quickly remind yourself that he is in fact a dick, hoping that will somehow make him less attractive.

you watch as his eyes wander your body. emily seems to notice and clears her throat.

“you guys gotta get going.” she breathes out a smirk on her face.

reid walks over to the side of the car. you smile slightly as he opens the door, your smile fading as he slides in alone slamming the door behind him.

“petty bitch.” you mutter. your heels angrily clicking against the asphalt as you walk to the other side of the suv, ripping open the door and sliding in with your arms crossed. you slam the door behind yourself, eyes glaring into the side of reid’s face.

“look,” you begin, your tone angry. “if this is going to work you need to at least try to pretend not to be a fucking asshole.” he scoffs, turning to face you.

“watch your tone.” he says lowly, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. your arms are still crossed and you watch as spencer’s eyes go from your face to your tits, then back up again.

you remind yourself that indeed, he's just a man. he may be a genius but behind that, he’s simply just a man with needs. you were going to make tonight hell for him.

you smirk, eyes glaring into his. “do your fucking job and i just might comply, doctor.”

he turns his head away from you, staring out the window, a new type of tension in the air.

“can you guys hear me?” jj says through you ear pieces. “yeah.” reid says, you can hear how angry he is, just through one word.

the team gives you both a rundown and reminds you both of your parts.

“…remember you’re a couple!” garcia reminds you. the team agrees loudly on the line. “yeah,” alvez says. “pretend to like each other for one night.”

“we’ll try, alvez.” you reply as the suv pulls up in front of the busy nightclub.

you look over at reid. “open my damn door and look like you fucking mean it.” you say through gritted teeth. he doesn’t respond as he steps out of the car, shutting his door quietly and makes his way over to your side of the car. he opens your door with a fake smile on his face, putting out his hand for you to grab. you get out of the car, leaning in to whisper in his ear.

“grab my waist.” you demand. he huffs under his breath, reaching his large hand to rest on your waist. he leans in to whisper back. “you will not dictate this night. i have over ten more years of experience than you, on this team. you do not get to boss me around, y/l/n.” he says through gritted teeth, pulling away from your ear with a fake smile on his face. you don’t have time to respond as he says; “let’s go, baby.”

the nickname hits you like a brick, especially the way it comes out of his mouth so effortlessly. in an attempt to control your composure, you smile and lean against him as he rubs his hand lovingly across your waist.

you both enter the night club, the mix of bright lights and darkness temporarily blinds you as you grip onto spencer for support.

“don’t respond, but we see you’ve made it inside. go grab a drink from the bar then hit the dance floor.” emily orders. spencer nods, leading you towards the busy bar.

as you approach the bar, the bartender asks what you both want. “i’ll have a club soda with lime.” spencer says, turning his head to look down at you. “what do you want, baby?” he asks, rubbing circles on your waist softly. you smile back up at him pretending like you don’t want to kill him and subtly dig your ass into his crotch. he sucks in a breath.

“i’ll have a vodka soda.” you say with a sweet smile on your face. the bartender nods going to make the drinks.

you look back at spencer, his jaw clenched and his breathing heavy. you set your phone down on the bar and “accidentally” knock it off of the counter.

“oops!” you say dryly, bending down to pick it up, your ass now rubbing against his crotch. you subtly feel something twitch in his pants.

“y/n.” he warns you. you nod innocently. “hmm?” you hum. he moves his hand from your waist. you look back at him to silently scold him, but he quickly uses both hands to push you away from his crotch. he slides his hands down your waist, to your ass, then pulls down your dress in one quick motion. a man standing to his left begins complaining loudly about how he can no longer see your "fattie". you almost thank him, then remember that its fucking spencer you're dealing with.

he doesn’t say anything and simply hands you your drink, leading you away from the bar and the creepy men, to a nearby table.

you bite your lip to hold back hateful words that dare to spill out. you stand in silence, spencer sipping his drink while you chug yours.

"you look miserable." emily says in your ears. "do something." she adds.

"wanna dance, pretty boy?" you ask him, the nickname falling from your mouth accidentally. you pretend like it was on purpose as spencer looks up from his drink, slightly stuttering over his response.

"y-yeah, yeah." he repeats, regaining his composure. he grabs your hand and leads you towards the crowd of sweaty people dancing, only looking back once to make sure you were still there

spencer scans the crowd as he pulls you into his chest harshly.

"i'm not just some doll you can throw around, reid." you yell over the music, sick of his bullshit. he looks you in the eyes and shrugs.

as the song changes, couples around you begin to make out.

"kiss me, reid." you say, realizing the awkward dancing in a crowd of horny couples would defer the unsub's attention. spencer doesn't seem to hear you. "reid." you repeat, his eyes still scanning the room. "spencer." you say, the first time you've ever said his first name to him. this catches his attention. his gaze finally falls to you, his frame towering over yours as you wrap your arms around his neck.

"i need you to kiss me, spencer."

the usually dick-ish man makes no cocky response. instead, he simply tips his head down capturing your lips in a kiss. the kiss is awkward at first, but quickly turns heated as you press your body against his. his hands, which were loosely on your waist move downward, rubbing circles on your ass and somehow moving you closer to him.

you run your hands through his hair, feeling him moan softly into your mouth. his sweet noises immediately go straight to your now-wet-core. you break the kiss for a second, to catch your breath, your faces still inches apart.

spencer's pupils are blown, his hair is messy, and his lips slightly swollen, tinted red from your lipstick. fuck, you want to devour him.

spencer quickly resumes the kiss, this time you don't have to ask. you easily feel how hard he is already, with his cock pressed against your leg.

you groan softly as you push your tongue into his mouth, eliciting more sweet noises from the handsome man.

"nice job guys, we have a suspect at 3 o'clock." emily says into our ears, reminding us that we aren't alone.

“let’s go somewhere more secluded.” spencer whispers, his breath hot on your cheek. he wants to lure the unsub out. you nod, waiting for him to move. instead his hands are still on your ass, his eyes on you, like he’s taking a mental picture.

“pretty boy.” you say almost inaudibly. “let’s go.” he spins you around so you’re in front now, able to maneuver your way out of the crowd. one of his hands rests on the small of your back protectively as you head towards the back corner of the club, a stark contrast to the way he was treating you less than 10 minutes ago.

“the hypothetical unsub’s eyes are still on you guys but he hasn’t moved, we can’t seem to see his face on camera. you need to get him to move closer.” jj announces in your ears.

“she’s telling us to kiss again.” you whisper. he nods, placing his large hand on your cheek and swiping his thumb across your lips. you wrap your arms around his neck, leaning into kiss him. he picks you up slightly, just enough to allow you to sit on him as he takes a seat on a random couch.

as he moves from kissing your lips to your jaw and neck, you instinctively begin rocking your hips against his, feeling how hard he is under you.

he groans softly against your neck, his kisses becoming sloppier.

“y/n.” his tone desperate, the use of your first name alarming. “if you keep going i might not be able to maintain professionalism.”

you bite your lip excitedly. “do you want me to stop then, spencer?” his eyes stare into yours, his hands on your hips.

“no.” he breathes out, pulling you closer to him and kissing you again. he moves his hands upwards as his lips move downwards, slowly leaving kisses and rubbing your now-visible nipples through the thin fabric for your dress. you suck in a breath at the new sensation, your head thrown back in ecstasy.

“the unsub moved into the light, it’s jeffery. sending alvez and rossi in now to apprehend him. you guys can stand down, nice work.” emily says, startling them slightly. you pull away from spencer, your underwear undeniably wet and your cunt begging for attention. you awkwardly remove yourself from his lap, sitting next to him on the sofa, noticing that in fact he was hard, an outline of his dick highlighted in the odd club lighting. he squirms in his seat slightly, obviously trying to readjust.

“y/n,” he says, noticing your eyes on him. you hum in response, your eyes moving from his cock to his face. “bathroom.” he says simply.

he doesn’t give you an opportunity to respond, simply getting up and leaving the room. you wait for a few seconds, processing his words and attempting to wrap your head around the fact that an hour ago you hated this man and now you were dying for him to fuck you.

a few minutes pass and you make your way to the bathroom where you don’t even knock, you simply walk in. spencer is there waiting. immediately as you enter the bathroom, he locks it, then attached his lips to yours. you moan softly into the kiss, jumping up to wrap your legs around his waist. he, however, seems to as other plans as he sets you down on the sink and lowers himself between your legs.

he leaves soft kisses up your thighs, your legs now thrown over his shoulders. “spencer,” you beg, his lips dangerously close to your cunt. “please.”

he smiles as you beg, hooking his finger on your underwear and pulling them down your legs roughly. he lowers his head farther in between your legs, licking a slow stripe down your cunt, causing you to squeeze your legs around his head and moan.

hearing your reaction, spencer moans softly against your pussy, the vibrations making you gasp.

unfortunately the club music had been turned off and if anyone were to walk by, they would probably hear you making sounds. you cover your mouth with your hand to make sure you guys don’t get caught.

he moves his tongue farther into you, the sound of his mouth on your soaking wet cunt making lewd sounds that fill the small bathroom.

you moan into your hand, bucking your hips against his face.

he pulls his mouth away from you and without skipping a beat he inserts one of his large fingers into you, grinding his crotch against the edge of the sink to get himself off.

you open your mouth to tease him but he interrupts you by adding another finger into your pussy. you can’t help but moan loudly, feeling your walls clench around his fingers.

“so good for me.” he says breathlessly, his fingers’ pace rough inside you and his hips fast against the sink counter.

“spencer,” you say in between ragged breaths. “i’m so close!” he smiles at your words, removing his fingers from your pussy with a pop.

you groan softly, hating the feeling of emptiness.

“spencer.” you warn, sitting up to get a good look at him. he has a look in his eye, a smirk on his face.

“what’s up?” he says nonchalantly, licking you off his lips and his fingers. you ask yourself how he can be so calm when he was literally just finger fucking you and eating you out. his cock is still dangerously hard, a spot of pre-cum on his cute little pants. you catch yourself imagining how big he is.

“fine.” you huff, seeing how he didn’t seem like he wanted you to finish. you insert your own fingers into your swollen cunt, pumping them inside yourself like spencer had been only a minute ago.

you over exaggerate your moans watching as spencer begins to rub himself through his now tight pants.

“i’m not going to beg you, pretty boy, but i need your cock inside of me right now.” he smirks at your words, making his way back over to you, hands moving to your face, kissing you passionately.

“i’m pretty sure that was begging, y/n.” he says as he pulls away from the kiss, beginning to unbutton his pants.

however, loud knocks interrupt him. "spencer?? are you in there??" emily's familiar voice, fills the room.

"uh, yeah! i'll be out in a second!" he says, beginning to re-button his pants, his cock still visibly hard. emily says something inaudible from the other side of the door then walks away. you lean forward on the sink counter, resting your head on spencer's shoulder, his arms wrapping around you.

after a second of peace, you hop of the counter in an attempt to fix your appearance, sliding back on your awkwardly soaked underwear.

"can we please finish this later?" spencer speaks up, catching you off guard. you smile, your brain still processing the fact that an hour ago you wanted to kill this man.

"yes, please."

part 2 :)

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader smut #bau #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fandom #part one #smut #enemies to lovers #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spenceobsessed

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rumplereids · 2 months

Note

hii!! i’ve read some of your docs and they are just awesome !!

i wanted to ask you if you could write a fic (paring Spencer x fem!Reader) about the BAU chasing the unsub and they manage to catch him, tough he did fire some shots that didn’t hurt anyone except reader but reader doesn’t realise it until she starts to feel dizzy and feels her shirt wet only to find a gun wound on her side, spencer is really worried etc etc.. you know an hurt/comfort !! :3

sorry for my bad english 😞😞

take your time !! :33

tags: spencer reid x fem!reader. hurt/comfort. reader gets shot. blood. reader using sexual jokes as a coping mechanism. a/n: unedited! set around season 12, bcos i just rewatched the s11 finale lol. i also took some creative liberties but i hope u still like this :) masterlist. requests are open !

There’s something Spencer always did before the team goes out to take down an unsub.

First, in the car, in the calm before a probable storm, he would take two fingers into the collar of your bulletproof vest. He’d tug on the back, checking the tightness of the straps while confined in the SUV’s backseat. And then, the same hand would run down your back. A comforting gesture that grounds him more than he’d admit. And lastly, he’d take your hand in his. Squeeze it three times in a silent ‘I love you’. He’ll wait for you to squeeze back, and your eyes would meet for a second, words unneeded as your gaze tells each other to take care.

It’s a routine done even before you officially got together. Tonight was different.

You were on the way back to the station after re-interviewing a witness with Rossi. You’re sat on the passenger seat, notepad in hand, attempting to arrange your thoughts on the case. A ringtone coming from the car speaker distracts you from your musings. Rossi reaches over to accept the call.

“Yeah, Hotch?”

“We found him. Garcia sent the location to your cells. You’re 20 minutes away from the address, but do not engage. Keep your distance and wait for the rest of us.” Hotch drops the call after you reply with an “On it, boss.” You flip a switch on the console, turning on the sirens.

“I still hate how loud these things are,” you make a passing comment.

Rossi spares you a glance, a bemused look in his eyes, “I haven’t gotten used to it either.”

You turn to reach for your vest behind the passenger seat. After putting it on, you triple check the straps. And then, you unholster your standard issue pistol, thumb on the catch, before you check your mag.

Rossi’s turning the corner while you holster your gun, reaching over, you turn off the siren. Based on the profile, this unsub will not hesitate to draw guns if met with law enforcement. Best not give him a heads up. A few blocks ahead, you see the bright neon sign of the motel the unsub is hiding in. Rossi shifts the SUV into a slow crawl. He stops a block away, a safe distance that still gave you a good vantage point of the motel. You keep a lookout, Rossi putting on his vest while your eyes pass over each entrance, exit, and window on the two-storey building. You notice movement on the first floor. A shadow behind a curtain on the second floor.

You’re starting to get antsy when the rest of the team, and the local cops arrive. You quickly open your door, walking toward where Hotch, Tara, and Spencer were huddled by the trunk of a precinct car.

“Are you attempting to negotiate?” Rossi asks from your side. Spencer’s eyes meet yours from where he’s hunched over a map. Embedding the floorplan into his mind. You watch his eyes rake over your body twice. Eyes running to each strap on your vest. Your heart warms at the gesture.

“He has hostages,” Hotch’s voice breaks your eye contact with Spencer. The sheriff walks toward your team, a megaphone in hand. Hotch thanks the sheriff, turns on the speaker, and begins to call out for the unsub.

“Bryan Masen! FBI! Come out with your hands above your head!”

You see the shadow shift on the second floor. And then, a loud bang. Bryan Masen has an assault rifle, shooting out of the windows of the motel lobby, while a second unsub shoots their own rifle from the second floor. In all the chaos of gunshots and screams, your mind rotates through three things; Is Spencer okay? A partner wasn’t in the profile. My ribs hurt. Is Spencer okay? A partner wasn’t in the profile. My ribs hurt. Where’s Spenc—

The following silence was deafening.

And then, a group of uniforms led by Hotch and JJ move in on the motel. You begin to stand, intending to join the second group of uniforms with Luke and Rossi. Subconsciously, your hand presses against your side. It’s warm. And wet. You take one step forward. Hear Spencer call out your name. And then, it all turns black.

Spencer’s hands won’t stop shaking. He stares at it. The red on his palms. It’s drying, and all he can do is stare blankly at it. His knee jerks. It won’t stop. He feels a hand on his shoulder. Heavy. Comforting. Unwanted. He hears Luke ask him if he needed anything. He can’t hear his own reply. Hunched over his bloodied hands, he sees the boots peeking between his fingers. Black. Leather. Heeled. JJ tries to get him to wash his hands. He feels hands guide him to a sink. That same hand on his shoulder leaving when smaller hands take his in their own. The water is cold between his fingers. The hand scrubbing his knuckles is warm. He can’t afford to look away. Can’t risk his eyes closing for more than a blink. He needed to be distracted by something. Knowing that if mind was preoccupied by any other menial thing, he won’t be forced to see your body falling onto the sandy ground. Over and over. The scream in his throat. The thud. The frantic hands. Red, red, red. Pale lips and eyes closed. Over and over.

He has half a mind to stop JJ from cleaning his hands. But then, the faucet turns off. Paper towels are pressed into his hands, and JJ guides him back to where the rest of the team are waiting. Their silence tells him that there hasn’t been anything new. He falls into a chair. Numbers. Statistics. That can help him focus on something else.

The number of GSWs treated per biennium increased from 1,349 in 1996-1997 to 1,484 in 2014-2015, with a 59% increase occurring from 2010-2011 to 2014-2015. Overall mortality was 14.6%—

An unfamiliar name calls out your name.

He stands before anyone else can react. Like a wolf descending on a prey, he begins a barrage of questions; “Where is she? Is she okay? Is she ali—”

“She alive and well. The shrapnel missed any major arteries, and we were able to take every fragment out. Major bruising around her ribs. She’s currently sedated, but you can come and see her.”

Spencer bites back an attempt to snap, wanting to raise his voice and demand that they bring him to her already. But he doubts you’d let him get away with such a behavior. And so he silently follows after the doctor, fists pressed against his sides, thumb popping a knuckle.

When he enters your room, it’s dimly lit. But he can see your face, and the bruise on your cheek from when you fell unconscious. His eyes take you in, every inch of you. The hair pulled behind your ears. The medical gown covering pallor skin. The tube connected to the crook of your elbow. He reaches a hand out, smoothing your hair, before taking a deep breath in. He remembers your comment about the smell of hospitals.

“I’ll stay with her,” he mumbles. Two fingers pushing down the collar of your hospital gown. You don’t like it when your clothes bunch up around your neck. His fingers subconsciously move to trace the side of your throat. Moving to feel the beat of your pulse beneath his fingertips.

“I’ll bring your bags back in an hour,” he nods once to acknowledge JJ’s words.

“Thank you,” he coughs away the lump in his throat. You’re alive. You’ll be awake in a few hours. You can go home by the end of the week. He forces himself to feel optimistic.

“Get some rest if you can, Reid,” Hotch speaks from where he’s standing nearest to the door.

He nods, opting not to say anything. Unable to make promises.

Your eyes are heavy when you come to. You can feel the crust on your lids. The cool of the AC against your cheek. Slowly, you open your eyes. There’s a painting of a grassy field on the wall in front of you. You turn your head. Spencer has his socked feet up on the armchair. Curling into himself to fit better. He has his focus on your copy of Pride and Prejudice. You can tell it’s yours by the sticky tabs peeking between the pages.

“Spence?” your voice is throaty and hoarse. Struggling to crawl out. He still hears it, anyway.

“Oh, baby,” he drops your book on the chair, moving to sit by your side. His forehead presses against yours, his hands cup your jaw. Spencer presses a kiss on the apple of your cheek.

“You scared me,” he confesses with a whisper.

“I’m okay now,” you bring a hand into his hair. He moves his kisses down to your jaw.

“I was so afraid of losing you.”

You take his kisses as he freely gives them. He hides his face into your neck, kissing where it meets your shoulder. You move your hand down to scratch where his hair ends before his nape. “You could never get rid of me,” you say with a small smile. He presses a kiss where your neck meets your ear.

Right hand on your cheek, left hand going down to grip the flesh below your scapula. Slender thumb and finger pinching the softness behind your armpit. He breathes in the scent of you. Your hand starts to massage the muscle where his neck and shoulder meet. You know that he feels heavy there whenever he gets stressed out. You want to crack a joke at how tense he is, but keep it in and choose to give him comfort instead.

“I love you,” his lips whisper against your skin.

You sigh, the sound making him look up to meet your eyes.

“I was so scared too,” it was your turn to confess.

“You’re okay. We’re both okay,” he moves his hands to take yours into his. You squeeze his hands thrice.

“I asked Hotch to give me time off while you’re on medical leave.”

“You did?”

He squeezes your hand back. Three times like you both always have, and always will.

“I also had to call your family,”

He watches you grimace, “How did they take it?” He gives you a slight wince of a smile.

You let out a sigh, “I’ll call them in a bit.”

“Your mom is taking a flight to Washington,” he informs you.

“That sucks. We won’t have the house to ourselves for at least a month.”

He raises a brow at you, “Why would it matter? You’re not allowed any strenuous activity for three.”

You give Spencer a little pout, chastised that he easily called you out, “That’s just mean.”

He gives you a withering look, “Behave.” He gives you one more kiss on the cheek, moving to stand from your bed. He has to tell the team you’re awake. Taking your phone from the end table, he begins to draft a text.

“I still have my hands, you know.”

He turns to you, caught off guard. Disbelief painting his features.

“You did not just say that,” he says.

You stick a tongue out.

“Stop it. You’re injured,” he says with a slight reprimand.

“So? That didn’t stop us when your knee got shot.”

His mouth falls open, “I can’t believe you.”

“Three months is just a recommendation. You would know.”

You grin at the blush that takes over his face.

taglist: @i-live-in-spite @khxna please feel free to send an ask to be added to my general taglist!

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff

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greenglowinspooks · 11 months

Text

(DCxDP) The obligations of a rogue versus those of a parent (Pt. 3)

—

Tw: Vivisection mention, torture mention (GiW agent receiving), me not actually knowing how telegram works

Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually.

(Pt. 1 here) (Pt. 2 here) - (Pt. 4 here)

(Masterlist/subscription post)

—

It’s an average, ordinary afternoon in Gotham, and Jason is in hell.

Specifically, Jason is in hell because he’s been researching the GiW for the last week or so, ever since a cryptic message from Scarecrow of all people.

He still hasn’t gotten anything substantial out of it that Scarecrow hadn’t already provided. Most location data had been previously scrubbed from the database, weaponry details were apparently all stored physically, and the experiment logs seemed to be only accessible from within one of the bases, whose locations Jason did not have.

Apparently Babs and Tim were having similar issues with gathering information. He had sent a copy of the files over to them in a moment of weakness, but they were having the exact same results as him.

To make things worse, the GiW was more active than they had been previously, combing through Crime Alley and the rest of Gotham tirelessly. At least they weren’t harassing him anymore, he thought, but now he had even less of a clue what they wanted.

And to top it all off, the Joker had escaped Arkham a few days prior to Jason receiving Scarecrow’s note, and he still hadn’t done anything. That could only mean that he was planning something big, which meant more grief for Jason, because the clown was obsessed with him.

So yes, Jason wasn’t having the best week.

He got up from his computer, stretched, and walked over to the window.

The sky was Gotham’s usual grey, clouded with a toxic miasma made up of traditional pollutants and the aftermath of gas attacks both, which could generously be called ‘smog.’

The streets seemed busier than usual, or maybe that was just because Jason was having a hard time keeping his eyes focused.

With blurry vision and a dull ache in the back of his head, Jason paced through his apartment, going through everything he knew.

The GiW, or Ghost Investigation Ward, were part of a secret government project having to do with ‘ecto-entities,’ which were mostly made up of ghosts.

The GiW was able to kidnap and steal away anyone who was ‘ecto-contaminated’ to be dissected, and it was completely legal.

According to the non-censored patrol reports he was given, Jason himself was considered ecto-contaminated. So were Bruce, Damian, Steph, and Cass.

There were also several rogues that were in the same boat, but their names had been redacted, presumably by Scarecrow. He wasn’t entirely sure why, but he guessed it was either for leverage or privacy. Knowing Crane, it could be both.

Anything useful about the GiW seemed to be stored physically within their compounds, or on an operating system that couldn’t be accessed outside of certain areas.

Anything useful about ghosts was conveniently removed by Scarecrow.

And, lastly, he knew from capture logs that they had numerous captive ghosts which were definitely being experimented on. One of these ghosts was named Daniel, last name redacted, and had been turned over by his parents in return for allowing them to run their own experiments on the boy.

From what he could tell, it had been around fifty two days since he had been turned in.

Fifty two days of experimentation and dissection.

Jason had to find him.

But first, he had to find the locations of the GiW bases, and plan his entrance carefully. He couldn’t let them get away because of a simple mistake.

The only location data he had been able to find was on a picture of the boy, Daniel, a picture of a vigilante in a red suit, and a quick note left about Daniel which hadn’t been transferred into the main database.

The note was…

Jason had been around crime for a very, very long time. He understood it intimately, in a way most people would never hope to achieve.

He understood hatred, too.

And yet, the words in that note were almost incomprehensible to him.

They were mockery of a child in pain. A child that was not seen as human. A child that was seen as a threat, a monster.

The man had detailed the security surrounding the child being cut back. Apparently, the kid had some sort of sonic scream. They were removing the muzzle that inhibited it because he had screamed himself hoarse, and he couldn’t make a sound anymore.

He also mentioned that the kid was cut open at least once a day, sometimes multiple times. He was opened up, played with, and sewn back shut.

The man joked that they should just put a zipper on him, so they wouldn’t keep wasting their stitches.

Jason really, really wanted to kill that guy.

The metadata on the note traced back to a newly-bought building in Gotham’s financial district, while the photos both came from Amity Park, Illinois.

Amity Park, Illinois did not exist in any official capacity.

Tim, who had taken the Batplane to check the precise location listed in the metadata, had reported that there was a town there after all, and it was on complete media lockdown from the rest of the world. He hadn’t even been able to use Bat, Justice League, or Young Justice channels to message anyone outside of the city until he left.

Jason had checked the building in the financial district firsthand, and found that the man who had submitted the note had done so while resting on a patrol of the city. He seemed to go there often to avoid his superiors, and Jason found it easy enough to get the drop on him the third time around.

His advanced interrogation techniques hadn’t been enough to get the man to name any locations. Worse, the man definitely recognized Red Hood, and would definitely tell the rest of the GiW about what had happened as soon as he left.

So, Jason did something about that. He couldn’t kill him, unfortunately, so he did the next best thing.

The GiW sent him to a public hospital within a few hours of finding him with shattered hand bones, broken arms, and a throat with near-permanent damage. The man wouldn’t be able to speak for a month at least.

He might never write again.

Jason, having read the note over and over until the words stained the backs of his eyes, thought it was the least he deserved.

Jason sighed, stopping his pacing. He wasn’t getting anywhere with this. If anything, working himself up was only going to lower the chances of him magically coming to a realization about where the kid was or what in the hell was going on.

He walked into the kitchen, popped some leftovers into the microwave, and started them up.

Once they were done, he brought them out to his desk, intending to eat as he continued to work on the GiW case.

When he saw his screen, he froze.

Telegram had been opened to a new chat with someone he had never messaged before.

TooFine: who are you?

TooFine: why are you looking into the giw?

The messages were a couple of minutes old, probably sent while Jason was spiraling pacing. He just stared at the screen, dumbstruck.

Shakily, he responded.

RedDead: How the hell did you get my contact info

Whoever was on the other side of the screen paused for a second. Jason considered sending a quick text to Babs to tell her what was going on, but he decided that he could handle this by himself.

TooFine: got it from the backdoor I put into the giw system.

RedDead: Shit

TooFine: ok your turn

TooFine: why r u looking into the giw? seriously man

RedDead: I don’t have a single reason to tell you. Give me one and I might answer your questions

TooFine paused again. Clearly they both had issues trusting someone over the internet, and rightfully so. What they had both admitted to doing was incredibly illegal, and if someone turned them in, they would be in deep shit.

TooFine: ive been trying to take down the giw since it was created. I can help u if ur honest with me

RedDead: Oh yeah, because no one has ever lied to another person on the internet before

RedDead: But fine

RedDead: I’m looking into them because they’ve been shadowing me for over a month at this point, among other reasons

TooFine: other reasons?

Jason sighed. He shouldn’t have added that. He knew that the other guy would ask, but he said something anyways.

RedDead: They’ve got a kid. I don’t like it when people hurt kids

TooFine: Danny? he’s alive?

RedDead: From what I can tell

So he knew the kid. Or, at least, he was pretending to. It would make sense for him to be cagey about his intentions, and for him to be desperate enough to reach out.

TooFine: oh my god

TooFine: do you know what city? fuck

TooFine: fuck fuck fuck

TooFine: I need to find him man please

RedDead: He’s somewhere in Gotham

RedDead: I’ve been trying to find him for a week now but no dice. They keep everything important on separate servers

TooFine: listen man you’re a good hacker but you’re not as good as me. you need my help if we’re gonna find Danny

RedDead: Okay, what are you trying to get me to agree to?

TooFine: i’m coming to gotham and we’re going to meet up

RedDead: Hell no

RedDead: Stranger danger

TooFine: if I tell u who I am will you say yes

RedDead: ?? How am I supposed to verify if you’re telling the truth

TooFine then sent him what seemed to be a selfie. Jason’s jaw dropped at the kid’s sheer audacity.

RedDead: There’s something seriously wrong with you

TooFine: my name is Tucker Foley. i live in amity park. i’m in 10th grade

RedDead: ???????? WHAT THE HELL

TooFine: i can send u my address too

RedDead: PLEASE DON’T??

RedDead: WHAT’S YOUR FUCKING DAMAGE? DON’T DOXX YOURSELF TO ME

RedDead: WHAT IF I WANTED TO KILL YOU OR SOMETHING? WHAT IF I WAS A FED

TooFine: i have to take that chance.

TooFine: Danny is my best friend. they’ve had him for over a month and no one’s doing anything to help. mr. Lancer was the only one who cared and he gave up after they blackmailed him

TooFine: they’ve had him for OVER A MONTH. I THOUGHT HE WAS DEAD.

TooFine: Sam and Jazz and I are coming to gotham and we’re going to find him no matter what it takes

TooFine: you have to help us

Jason considered, for a second, the choices he’d made in his life that had led up to this moment. He also considered, if he was in this kid’s position at his age, if he would be doing the same.

He decided to throw the kid a bone.

RedDead: [4735.jpg]

TooFine: HUH

RedDead: I’m guessing you know me

TooFine: RED HOOD??????

RedDead: No I’m just a very dedicated LARPer

TooFine: am i gonna die for Danny right now

RedDead: If I were literally anyone else, probably

RedDead: But no, you’re not. I’m gonna help you find your friend

TooFine: your username is red dead and you’re. yeah ok

RedDead: Oh come on, it’s funny

TooFine: Danny would love you

RedDead: So Danny clearly has great taste in jokes

TooFine: nope. literally loves puns and wordplay

RedDead: Nevermind

They both paused for a second. Then, Jason had a thought.

RedDead: Wait you’re in the 10th grade and you’re hacking into government databases?

TooFine: please don’t tell my parents.

RedDead: And how are you supposed to explain a sudden vacation to Gotham to your parents?

TooFine: wait so you’ll help me?

RedDead: I really hate to say it but I’m not the best at hacking, and my usual help is busy trying to track down the Joker. So, yep, we’re teaming up

TooFine: LET’S GOOOOOO

RedDead: God. I’m asking a 16 year old to help me take down a government agency and save another 16 year old

RedDead: I feel like the bat

TooFine: oh my god this is awesome. Danny is gonna flip when the actual real-life Red Hood comes to save him.

RedDead: I already regret this

TooFine: too late.

TooFine: btw do u have any place for 2 teenagers and 1 adult teenager to stay in gotham? preferably without dying but yknow.

Jason groaned. He was really, really gonna regret this, and he knew it.

Still, the alternative was some overeager kid dragging two other idiots to Gotham to find their friend and getting themselves killed. At least this way he’d have help, and damn good help at that.

He really was turning into the Bat, wasn’t he?

—

#dcxdp #dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp fic #liminal scarecrow #Tucker doxxes himself as a power move and immediately regrets it #Jason knows for a fact if he doesn’t agree Tucker is gonna get himself killed trying to do this without him #Jason: holy shit I need to find this kid #meanwhile in Crane’s apartment #Danny: hey dr. crane would you still love me if I was a worm #sorry this took a long ass while btw I had no idea what I was doing LMAO

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dcxdpdabbles · 4 months

Note

I’ve been rereading you Royal Consort au and haven’t stopped thinking about it. I just know social media during that entire au was fucking insane

Dash Baxter opened his phone one school morning in his senior year after oversleeping for an hour—he may have worked out a little too hard, or he really did have a cold, like his mother claims—and was overwhelmed with messages from his friends.

They all say the same thing.

Have you seen this!?

Is it true?!

I can't believe this is happening!

Will we go to jail? I can't go to jail!

He scrolls through them with heavy confusion until, eventually, he clicks on the link Kwan sent him since the mention of jail seemed like a higher level of importance than whatever new gossip was going about.

Someone was likely pregnant. That was always what Pauline gossip the most about.

His best friend tended to catastrophize, so he figured it was better to help him calm down first.

The link takes him to a news clip showing a crowd of people surrounding a very familiar house. It wasn't the first time the Fentons had been on the news, but they were usually covered by local stations, and it was generally due to the damage the inventors had caused.

Dash knew they were only talked about when things were slow and a fluff story needed to be thrown in. Oh, back in freshman year, when ghosts first appeared, the Fentons were much more important, but now ghosts are a part of everyday life, and sometimes Dash forgot other cities didn't have the same issue.

Nothing the Fentons did was noteworthy, especially to have the Lois Lane covering their story. Yet, here in the palm of his hands, on the morning of a regular school day, he watched as Lois Lane did just that.

"Reporting live from Amity Park outside the residence of the Royal Consort to the Infinite Realms, I'm Lois Lane. Only a few minutes ago, the Justice League members- Batman, Wonder Woman, and Superman- had entered the building hoping to speak to the Consort on a diplomatic mission. The tension between humans and the Realms has been at an all-time high since the Anti-Ecto Acts were passed. Although they were overturned in the last United Nations session, there has still been no comment from King Phantom and no guarantee that a war is not on the horizon." The woman says, holding her mic close to her face while the cameraman pans over the crowd of people outside of Fenton Works.

Dash feels like someone dumped iced water on him and then slapped him with a rubber fish. He is scared, confused, and a little offended. Still, the video continues as Ms. Lane explains the Realms, the political backlash the USA put the rest of the world in, and a brief overview of the humans' chances of winning if a war did break out (not high).

She then admits that their team had gotten a tip, claiming that the Consort has been married to King Phantom for the last three years, and despite not publicly announcing his title, he had all the power of his status.

He.

There were only two "he"s in the Fenton household and Dash knew for a fact Mr. Fenton would never cheat on his wife. Which left only one.

Oh gods.

As Ms.Lane speaks, the door to the house opens behind her, and the three high heroes of Earth outstep.

Along with Danny Fenton, who is squished between Wonder Woman and Superman with a flabbergasted expression, the crowd goes wild as Ms. Lane loudly shouts, "The Royal Consort, Daniel Fenton, husband to King Phantom, is being escorted by some of the most important members of the Justice League to a secondary location for peace negotiations. There is hope for humanity yet."

The clip ends with a close-up of Fenton's wide-eyed stare, which shows him looking terrified—the same expression he used whenever Dash cornered him to vent some of his frustrations.

Dash is left sitting in utter silence and rapidly growing horror. He had been mocking a royal, physically harming a royal, and, worst of all, he had been attacking Danny Phantom's husband, the same being who had been his personal hero for the last three years.

"I'm going to jail." He whispers "I'm so going to jail. Or I'm going to be executed. That happens to people who almost start wars right? Oh, gods."

The rest of the A-listers are panicking all over the city but not nearly as Dash Baxter, who was wondering how much time Fenton would give him for a head start.

It didn't help that Wes messaged Everyone on the basketball team with a gif of a dancing cat wearing sunglasses and the words "I TOLD YOU" in bright, bold colors.

He had repeatedly told them to leave Fenton alone. If they didn't, Phantom would retaliate, but no one had taken his word for it since the boy had originally claimed Phantom and Fenton were the same person.

Dash put his phone down and stared at the wall of his room. He liked that wall. It was covered in posters, pictures of his friends, memories of his best games, and now, with the floating shelves, his teddy bear collections.

He would likely never see it again.

"Oh gods"

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #The royal consort #Part 1.5 #This takes place between part 1 and part 2 #Dash is having a crisis #He overslept and missed the news break #Wes is just doing the dancing cat meme because HE WAS RIGHT #Dash pov of the situation

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serejae · 4 months

Text

IF BY CHANCE ? | BND

WHAT ? - BND AS EXES WHO WANT YOU BACK (bnd realizing they messed up after you end things)

WHEN ? - (warning) this is not a REAL display of the members im just doing this for weeping entertainment:) attempt to unconsented kissing in jaehyuns, drinking in sungho’s, mentions of throw up/throwing up in leehans, major angst 😒

WHO ? - (a/n) i love angst but not like death but yearning and groveling, pls tell me yall relate. lowk went hard on jaehyun and leehans from personal experience 🤔🤔

uncapitalization intended and not proofread

theres a theory that you will always meet the same person twice

P.SUNGHO ; he was too focused on his career.

! - you knew and understood thst sungho’s job was very important to him but it started to feel like you werent his partner anymore. you started to feel like decoration in your guys apartment that he would just ignore when he got home.

! - to try and help your relationship you made him dinner, cleaned up the place, asked him about his day to which he blew up. his cold demeanor suddenly dropped as he yelled at you about constantly bothering him when he just wanted to sleep. you knew your intentions and knew you didnt want to bother but help sungho. you then realize you werent valued in this relationship and were pulling the whole weight by yourself, so you ended things.

! - it took him about 4 days to realize that he messed up. those 4 days his mind was constantly fogged up about work, after those 4 days he walked into the house and how he realized was when he alerted you (or tried to) that he was home with a “honey im home”, only to be met with silence. a bit confused not realizing his brain hadnt catched up yet, he walked into your twos room, or use to be. only to be met with the mess he left for himself in the morning. there is when he realized you weren’t there anymore. to shake his mind off of it, he decided to eat before doing anything ,he went to the kitchen to heat up some frozen dinner. as the meal heated he realized the house was so empty, cold, and quiet. the only sound was coming from the spinning microwave.

! - it’s safe to say the soulless house took a toll on him. everyday he dreaded going home, which is funny cause he couldve said the same thing before he realized how important you were. his friends who were tired of seeing him so lifeless decided to invite him to go to the bar to hang out…he wasnt much fun there either. that was until he caught a glimpse of you from the reflection of his empty shot glass. his eyes light up and he turns around to make eye contact with you. .

L.RIWOO ; trust issues.

! - you understood where riwoo was coming from, you knew that trust issues are normal , but it got to a point where his trust issues started to make you question him.

! - and it didnt help that each time you did try to reassure him that it somehow made it worse. “ri, of course im going to stay late, my boss asked me too. you have my location, i send you photos of me working, what else do you want?” maybe your approach wasnt the best but the way he snapped was when you knew no matter how much you tried to protect both you and his peace, he will try to tear it down again. “oh, so now your getting defensive. i shouldve known, especially from you.” he said it with no remorse or thought behind it. and to him he thought he was winning this argument but in reality he was going to make the biggest loss of his life.

! - it took him 5 hours to realize he messed up. when you left and packed your things he thought you’d run back and it’ll make him feel better about himself. but after 4 hours it was already 3 am and he realized maybe…you wouldnt come back as soon as he thought. but that last hour before he realized he messed up, he had a dream of you and him. you two were living that exact moment, before you left. you standing pacing back and forth as he sat on the couch. except this time, he talks to you about why he thinks the way he thinks and vows to do better. in that dream he sleeps with you in his arms. when he woke up he stared at the ceiling, and it was like it was talking to him. thats when he realized you werent coming back. you wont be in his arms again, you wont tell him about your day, and you wont constantly tired of arguing with him because of his doubts.

! - after trapping himself in his house and thoughts he decided to go on a walk, but to his suprise once he opens the door you stand there staring at him with a box of his things in your hands. his mouth goes dry

M. JAEHYUN ; girl bestfriend

! - you were the never the type of partner to care too much about the opposite gender best friends as you were very secure in your relationship, but in this case it wasnt him but rather her. you knew from the moment she laid her eyes on you she was no good. but you decided to give her the benefit of the doubt as this was jaehyuns childhood bestfriend, and if you didnt like her you could at least pretend for your boyfriends sake.

! - you were always calm and reserved around jaehyun and his bestfriend even on those dsys you wanted to push her off him. but today it was like a flip switched. you walked home soaked from the rain after not being to reach your boyfriend to pick you up. you get it he’s busy, but your blood boiled when you saw both of them sitting on the couch peacefully. she looked up at you and grinned as jaehyun ran up to you worried. “jaehyun lets talk in our room please” you simply asked. he followed you to you and his shared room with a towel drying you off as you spoke. “i really hate to do this to you but its either me or her.” he paused his movements of drying your hair “you know i cant do that. ive known her for so long do you not trust me?” he said defensive. “i dont trust her” you said blandly, he stared at you and started lecturing you on how his bestfriend gave you no reason to not trust her. you didnt argue back, you were too tired for it you just said “she likes you jaehyun”. he paused and continued lecturing you about how thats ridiculous. you shake your head and pack your things “clearly i know your answer.” he continues on and on on how youre being ridiculous. once you leave the door he puts his hand in his face.

! - it took him like 5 minutes to realize he messed up (bye.) his friend came into your room and sat down by him as he listened to him rant. “you know…” she said slowly “y/n’s not wrong” his ears perked up at that “ive always liked you jaehyun, your just too silly to realize.” he freezes at her words, feeling his blood run cold he feels her fingers on his chin and her leaning in. he backs up and kicks her out despite her protest. once he locked the door and is left in the empty haunting house alone he scrambles for his phone. after finding it he opens it to all your messages asking if he can pick you up. it made him nauseous at the thought he left you alone and cold for his ‘friend’ that was the cause of your breakup. he calls you to which you dont answer, he starts panicking at this point and paces in the house as he mass text and call you just wanting a answer. he pauses in front of him at the only room he hasnt stepped room in since pacing. your bedroom. he walks in and lays down only to be reminded of your scent when he lifts the blankets over his head. thats when he starts crying and realized you weren’t there to hold him like you normally did

! - he didnt have his safe space anymore.

H. TAESAN ; distant

! - you hated to admit it but one of the things that drew you into taesan was the thing that made you end things. his cold demeanor was what made everyone so curious about him, fortunately or unfortunately you were the one he picked to be into his very small circle to which you became his partner. during this you learned he loved his alone time which you were fine with, what threw you off was the way he signaled to you he wanted to be alone. he would ignore you in public and not reply to your messages as if you didnt know each other. you were okay with it at first since you loved your strange boyfriend but after a while you grew tired of it. tired of breaking down his walls and when you finally feel accepted by him only to be shut out again

! - and clearly it was a mistake bringing it up to him because it lead him to being the loudest you ever heard him, arguing back and forth. “i dont get why you just have to pretend you don’t know me. im fine with you needing your alone space but why do you have to act like you hate me?”

“im starting to if thats how your gonna react to me needing my time every so often.”

you couldnt argue anymore, especially when he just admitted he was close to hating you for communicating your feelings. the room went quiet, taesan looks over his shoulder to see you staring at the ground before walking off. after that day you didnt text first or initiate anything to see if he would, unfortunately to you. he didnt.

! - it took him about a month to realize he messed up (sorry taesan lovers:c). but dont get me wrong, its not like he went on with his life like normal. everyday it felt like he was missing something but he could never put his finger on this feeling so he just dismissed it. until one day by instinct he sat at your twos spot alone and your guys song started to play in his headphones. he was never one to communicate his feelings too well but that didnt mean he didnt care for you. he would dedicate songs to you and one just fit perfectly with you two. when the song played he looked around and realized where he was with what song was playing only to see something is missing

you.

and thats when it hit him, he didnt get his usual messages, his hugs, or his sneaky looks from you. he was alone, but wasnt this what he wanted?

he wanted to be alone right?

he loved it.

right?

he then realized

he loves you more then he loved being alone.

was it worth it to lose one thing you love more to prioritize the other?

K.LEEHAN ; too friendly

! - from the beginning you knew dating leehan came with a price. everyone wanted him. some more bold than others that would go up to him and ask him out even when he had a partner. his reaction to these admirers was a stranger then how a boyfriend would react to girls hitting on him. he’d entertain the girls in front for you just to see your reaction. you knew he loved seeing you jealous which was cute at first but after a while it got old. it started to make you doubt whether he really loved you or not. if the girls would compliment leehan he’d start asking for details, “oh yeah? how much do you like me?” “my arms are pretty strong arent they?” or he’d start teasing “calm down my partners infront of me, maybe later” to which the girls, including him would laugh as he looked over to see your fuming face.

! - but this one time, you couldnt take it anymore. if this is what dating someone admired upon was like, you wanted no part. it was like normal. girls would swarm around you and leehan and start flirting, but his one comment ticked you off. “yeah of course we can hangout, im sure my partner wont mind” he winked, he looks over at you expecting to see your puffy angry face but is met with you leaving the table. he follows behind you calling for you. when he finally catches up to you thats when you spew everything youve been feeling. “i can understand if your admired i get it your handsome! but your taken and you should know that, no normal boyfriend flirts back with girls who flirt with him. i have to deal with this closing feeling in my throat and chest all because you want a little enjoyment for your day and im done.” he looked at you confused with a hint of being offended. “youre overreacting yn.” he said before being cut off with you walking away.

! - he realized he messed up 6 days later. its not like he didnt care, but he was in his state of mind that youll run back like any of his fangirls would. during those days he continued to flirt back with them now that his flock was much bigger now that he was single. but this time he flirted back much less enthusiastic as he would before, because he had no reason to, no reaction, no partner to coddle after. he now felt sick with the thought of flirting with anyone to start dating if it wasnt you. he got up from the table to which he recieved a bunch of whines and pleads to stay. he just needed fresh air. he continued walking around campus until he heard a familiar laugh. he turned his head over and seen you with another person, laughing and getting all close like you and him use too. now staring from afar he understood what you meant. he felt his chest and throat closing at the thought sight of you reliving what you and him would do with someone that wasnt him. and his words replay in his mind

“you’re overreacting yn”

“your overreacting”

“overreacting”

in fact you were not overreacting but he knew he had no right to be jealous, when his urge for you to be jealous tore you two apart.

he was on the verge of spilling his guts and you looked happy. not angry, and thats what you deserved

K. WOONHAK ; always mad at you

! - woonhak has always been very open about his anger issues and you knew that. he was just a teen living his first life and you acknowledged that. on certain days he would hold grudges against you and not tell you why he was angry, leaving you alone to figure out and trace back to see what you had done. and it was always something small like giving him only 2 hugs instead of 3 for morning, afternoon, and night. and forbid you try to get him to communicate why he is mad at you. he’ll turn into a big angry ball yelling at every reason he should be mad

! - this one day you were so tired from school. you just wanted to walk home with your boyfriend and hopefully cuddle at home. but he wasnt waiting for you outside your class, instead you already saw him walking out of the school. catching up to him you say hi and start asking him about his day to which you recieve a mean face ignoring you. deciding to avoid that you talked about your day to which he paid no attention to. thats when you snapped “hey im talking to you!” no reply “why do you always do this, you just get mad at me and expect me to read your mind!” he turned over to you and yelled back “i dont know why you can never just think, is it that hard to realize what you did?” “no i cant read your mind woonhak!”. he just turned away and started to walk “woonhak if you keep walking were over!” he paused, to which you hoped he’d come to his senses but he kept walking

! - he realized he messed up 1 days after. day 1, he completely forgot about the night before as it was so normal for him to go back to not being mad at you when he felt like it. when you didnt walk to school with him he decided that was his reasoning for being mad you today. and when you didnt run up to him or walk up to him after school to walk together he started to be a bit confused. here is when youd start to cave but as he walked home he retraced his memory with each step and remembered what you had said when he was being petty.

‘ “woonhak if you keep walking were over!” ‘

he just kept walking, and now you werent his to walk anymore.

“is it so wrong of me to hope she breaks your heart, is it so wrong for me to pray she tears you apart?”

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eastbubble · 5 months

Text

you and 09!ghost were never really on good terms, things were always frosty and cold between you two. missions kind of connected you guys but that was notning special, it was the same with everyone else on the team so you wouldn’t really consider that extraordinary.. until something happened.

the location was already bad enough — georgian - russian border, what a blessing. a part of the task force was supposed to clear the house hidden in the woods in hopes of finding makarov as this was one of his possible hiding places. you could only hope for the best.

the mission didn’t turn out to be a success, though. the area was cleared and you shot what felt like hundreds of soliders, yet there was no sign nor trace of the man that the whole world was looking for — vladimir makarov. roach was downstairs copying the files from the central computer he found there, but it was taking extremely long and you just couldn’t help but start exploring the house out of boredom.

your heavy gear was sticking to your body like a soaked towel, your body sweaty from all the stress that was put on you. the wooden floor was creaking under your military-issue boots that were so uncomfortable on your feet after such a long day. however, after a while, you heard the sound of another pair of boots knocking against the probably rotten wood, making you turn your head and look up. ghost. it’s ghost.

“impressive. you did really good,” he mumbled under his breath, though he didn’t seem like he was actually serious. to be honest, you didn’t even know what he sounded like when he was dead serious. the balaclava on his face always somehow filtered the tone of his voice and you couldn’t guess what could be going on in his mind.

and the next thing you remember is him pushing you against the wall and slamming his lips against yours, the fabric of the skull-print balaclava obviously being in the way. both of your saliva made a little spot on the soft cotton, and what a funny touch because you imagined your panties looking the same — with a silly little wet spot on it. he held you tightly under your butt with one arm, your back against the wall so it would be easier for him to keep you up in the air.

just like that, he was already reaching down to your panties. unzipping your pants with shaky, gloved fingers as he seemed incredibly desperate. he circled the wet spot on your undies, outlining it with the tip of his finger as a horrible excuse of foreplay. just moments later he was in his pants too, needily taking his rock-hard cock out of his boxer briefs and not wasting any time to pull the fabric covering your pretty cunt aside, almost immediately sliding into you.

it was really weird that he didn’t say anything. it all just happened and it was weird. you laid you head into the crook of his neck, fingers gripping the gray wool-ish texture of his pullover. at first he only slid in with his flared tip but then seconds later he pushed more of his length in, letting you feel the raw veins on his slightly curved length. he was huge and you were sure that he would hit your cervix the moment he bottomed out inside you — and that was why you began protesting with soft little sounds coming out of your mouth, tiny and silent moans of his rank slipping out. not ghost nor simon, not even riley. you felt ashamed that the only thing coming out of your mouth was just “lieutenant, please..”

“ssh, we don’t want roach to hear you downstairs, do we?” he asked almost silently, but you could tell that he was holding back a few gruff grunts too, judging from the way he breathed. “do we, sergeant?”

“no. no, no. but it’s so-“ and you had to swallow the rest of your sentence down because of how you could almost feel his tip leaking inside you with every word you painfully uttered out. it was messy and sticky, the lewd sounds your pussy kept making were basically reverbating off the walls. and it was all dripping down into your panties, small droplets sliding along your slit and soaking into the thin fabric. “nasty..”

“fuck..”

and as soon as he mumbled that curse out, you heard a pair of boots againts the wooden floor — one that sounded identical to your and ghost’s ones. shit. shit!

looking over ghost’s shoulder you had to blink thrice to confirm that what you saw was indeed real. roach stood there in the doorway like a deer in the headlights, his goggles pushed atop of his tactical helmet as you could physically see his adam’s apple bob from how hard he gulped. he held a few papers and an usb memory stick in his hands, fingers shaking as he slightly raised it up in to the air. “it’s- it’s done, sir-“

#i love writing biblically accurate cod smut :3 #cod #call of duty #simon ghost riley #ghost #ghost cod #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost smut #ghost mw2 #modern warfare 2

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originalleftist · 27 days

Text

There are really just two issues that matter this election:

One is climate- Biden put us on a path to halve carbon emissions in 6 years and reach net zero by 2050. Harris will continue that. Trump will actually increase use of fossil fuels while gutting regulations.

Every person on Earth will be harmed and endangered by that, regardless of your identity, location, or views.

The other issue is the peaceful transfer of power. Whatever problems you may have with Harris, she'll leave peaceably in 4 or 8 years. Trump will not. This is not fear mongering or hyperbole. He has said that if he wins we'll never need to vote again. He met his last electoral defeat by inciting and enabling a violent insurrection. Sure, he's an old man, but he's surrounded by young men who share the same contempt for democracy and the rule of law- like his Vice Presidential nominee, JD Vance, who will assume power if he dies in office.

We were lucky to get him out once, barely. His people are much more prepared for a coup now, he'll have broad legal immunity now thanks to SCOTUS, and he's openly vowed to become "a dictator on day one" and deploy troops on American streets.

Any issue with Harris is a temporary problem, and you can try again in 4 or 8 years. With Trump, you can't.

THE ONLY REASON TO ELECT TRUMP IS IF YOU ACTIVELY WANT THE WORLD TO BURN. And don't care how many actual people burn in the process. And if that is your position, then by your own choice you are an enemy of all humanity.

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cordeliawhohung · 9 months

Note

HIIIII I love your Mafia!Price Drabble and headcannons I was wondering if you have any ideas that involve Mr. John Price proposing to his gal or even mentioning having a wee baby :3

hi! thank you so much! i hope i'm understanding your ask correctly in that this is mafia!price you're wanting, so that's what i'm going to write on but if you were wanting captain price instead let me know and i can do another bit <3 i have too many thoughts in this pea sized brain anyway lmao also i decided to give you both the proposal and baby talk <3 (but the baby talk gets smutty cuz i'm feral)

warnings: fem!reader, mafia!price, head cannons mixed with drabbles, fluff and nsfw content, smut, mentions of pregnancy, mentions canon typical violence, hope i didn't miss anything (:

you can find more mafia!price in my masterlist <3

Proposing

The thing about Mr. John Price, is that he can get you anything in the world. He's sent you to lavish destinations for holidays, gotten you gifts that seem too expensive for a simple boyfriend to want to gift their partner; there wasn't a rock in the world he would refuse to move for you. So when he decided he wanted to make you his, to make his sweet girlfriend his wife, he finds himself stumped as to what to do in order to really make it stand out from everything else he's already done.

First, there's the ring. He had actually managed to obtain your ring size a few months into seeing one another. A dazzling necklace in a local jewelry store had managed to catch your attention, and he insisted that you go inside to check it out for yourself. While you were there, a ring that you claimed to be similar to your grandmothers had caught your attention, and the jeweler had taken it out for you to look at. You tried to put it on your middle finger, only for it to be too small, so you moved it over to the ring finger instead. It was beautiful, and in a style you kept gushing about. John snuck a glance at the tag, reading and memorizing the size and storing the information in the back of his mind. In the meantime, he bought you the necklace, of course. He ended up going to the same store in order to purchase the ring he wanted to propose to you with.

Then there's the location. Every idea that popped into his head didn't feel right. He was worried about trying too hard, about it feeling unnatural if he planned every single detail out, and yet feared that if he didn't plan enough it wouldn't be special enough. He was always a detail oriented man, and yet he felt as if he would drown in them.

So he lugged the ring around with him for months. Always hidden in his pocket, just out of sight, and yet he could feel it weighing heavier and heavier every day. His worry is something that you can pick up on. You feel it when you rub his shoulders in his office and attempt to melt away the knots in his muscles with your thumbs, you see it in the way he rubs his chin and stares off into space during meals.

John has always been honest with you, and so he made you very much aware of what he does for work before even attempting to pursue a relationship with you. And though he refuses to tell you any specifics in an attempt to keep you safe, you hear some of his men whispering about issues settling disputes with another syndicate. Fearing his stress comes from work, you insist on getting him out of the house. Though he suggests eating at the Greek place you enjoy in the city, or even spending the evening drinking away at one of his clubs (which is just a place for him to hide his tax fraud and money laundering "business"), you insist that you just want to go for a walk. And well, who is he to say no?

Darkness settled over the beach by the time you and John set foot on the shore, but the lights of the city emitted a golden glow that illuminated your face and had you looking as beautiful as ever. Salty water threatened to kiss your feet as you strolled along, and you felt John squeeze your hand while the two of you talked about anything that came to mind.

It was a sand dollar shell that caught your attention. A beautiful, round, and unbroken specimen that you nearly walked right over in the dim light. Fingers slipping out of John's hand, you stopped and bent down to pick it up, ogling over how pristine it was. You held it out, the item small in the palm of your hands as you pointed out each arm on the fossil.

Though you were enamored by the shell, John could only look at you. The way your eyes lit up, how you couldn't help but smile as you told him everything you knew about it, how you always seemed to find joy in even the smallest things. You were radiant, the only light he had in his life. Always smiling, always so kind to him despite how dirty his hands were from work. He didn't have a choice anymore, about being a bad man, but he had a choice when it came to you.

When you pulled away from him to wash the sand dollar off in the water, John found himself falling onto one knee. It was as if he wasn't in control of himself, like his body was telling him the time was right. Cold, damp sand seeped through the fabric of his pants, but he ignored it as he reached into his pocket and pulled out that small, velvet box that had been haunting his clothes for months. Despite all the bad things he had done in his life, he never found himself as nervous as he was in that moment.

Once you were certain all the sand had been washed off of your new possession, you turned around only to drop it to the ground in shock. John Price, the man who headed the most dangerous and effective mafia in the country, the man who always took care of you, who always stood tall and bowed to no one, was on one knee in front of you. The question in his eyes and stance was obvious, and yet you found your hand reaching up to cover your mouth.

"John?" you spoke, as if you were unsure of what he was doing.

He always promised himself he would never make you cry. Would never be the one to cause you any anguish or pain. So when he saw the tears starting to swell in your eyes, he couldn't ignore the way his stomach twisted.

"My whole life I've had whatever I've asked for given to me," he said, thumb brushing over the top of the box, "but I've never wanted something as badly as I want you."

His fingers gently flipped the top of the box open, revealing the dazzling ring you had looked at all that time ago; the one you told him reminded you of your grandmothers ring. A part of you couldn't believe he even remembered that moment, something that had seemed so insignificant at the time.

"I want to cherish you," John continued, "to care for you, to love you. To make you mine. Will you marry me?"

Your answer tumbled out of your mouth faster than you intended it to, nearly cutting the man off before he could fully get the question out.

"Yes!" you nearly sob, your own knees digging into the sand as you throw your arms around your now fiance's neck.

He wraps his arms around you in return, and his chuckle is low and rumbling and deliciously familiar in the way it vibrates through your chest. You can't wait to be able to feel that every single day for the rest of your life.

Baby Talk

Coming from a family born of violence, John was always a little scared to have children, but oh, did he crave being a father. More than that, he craved making you a mother.

But there were these worries that loomed over his head, terrified of dragging his children into the same life he was forced to live. So whenever he did mention children, he only ever sounded half serious.

"This room would make a nice nursery someday." "Maybe we could take our kids here someday, if we have some."

But you saw the look in his eyes. How his gaze lingered on a father playing football with his son in the park, how he chuckled at a young girl lecturing her father about something. Yet he never seriously sat down and talked about kids with you.

So you were the one who ended up really bringing the conversation up. Though, you didn't fully dive into it. Just simple little comments here and there. Ones that were more serious and promising than his own.

"John, look at these! Aren't they just adorable? I can't wait to dress our kids up in stuff like this." "Do you think we'll need a baby monitor? Might be a good idea if we set up a nursery, huh?" "Oh, I love this color. Do you think this would look good on the walls in the nursery?"

Half the time you spoke as if you already had kids or were pregnant, and your words left John's mind spinning. Torn between worry and want, his mind went back and forth between telling himself he shouldn't have kids, and giving into the desire to make you a mother.

And you certainly didn't make it easy on him:

John's cock always knew how to reach the deepest parts of you that turned your brain into nothing but mush. Legs thrown over his arms, he thrusted into you with such force he drew breathless moans from your mouth. His lips brushed against the side of your neck, breath hot and heavy against your skin as he grunted in effort.

Your hands pawed at his back, fingers digging into the rich muscle that covered his shoulder blades and neck. Sweat beaded in the dip of your throat just from the sheer intensity of it all; that burning feeling in your stomach, the tense muscles that shivered all throughout your body, and especially the words he grunted into your skin.

"So goddamn beautiful. Just can't get enough of you," he said, punctuating every word or so with a sharp snap of his hips that left you mewling.

When he was on the brink of his orgasm you could feel the neediness of his thrusts - the strained breaths against your ear - and you felt your cunt clench around him at the thought of him finishing inside of you. Before you knew it, your hands carefully danced across his skin until your palms enveloped his cheeks. You gently moved his head away from your neck, forcing him to look at you as he continued to push himself closer to the edge.

"I wanna give you a baby," you said breathlessly.

Never before had you seen your husband freeze so suddenly. His movements ceased as he buried himself so deep inside of you, you swore he was nudging against your cervix. The sensation ripped a tight moan out of your throat, but it didn't stop you from expressing your wants.

"Please, John, I want it so bad. Wanna be a mum so bad, wanna have your kid," you said, nearly begging. As you continued, you pulled him down until you were close enough to kiss him between words. "Please, let me do this for you, baby, I- fuck!"

John's thrusts continued with little warning, and they were just as passionate as they had been before, if not more. His lips silenced you as he smothered you with a kiss, and he ate up your moans like it was the only sustenance he would ever need.

"Yeah? Fuck darling, you don't know what you do to me," he muttered, voice strained with effort.

As he continued to pound into you, the sounds of skin on skin filling the room, all John could think about was you. You with a swollen stomach and breasts. He could imagine your giggle when you first feel your child kick, or laying in bed together rubbing your back when it ached too much. The thought of it all had him moving with a new sense of vigor, hellbent on filling you until there was no doubt at all that he'd make you a mother.

After all, whenever his wife wanted something, he would move heaven and earth to give it to her.

so i have a confession to make - in this previous mafia!price piece i wrote, i really wanted to put in wife!reader begging price to let her have his kid to thank him for all he does for her, but i wasn't sure if that was too feral so i left it out. but then i put it in here instead and, well yeah. anyway i hope you all have an amazing day, and merry christmas if you celebrate! <3

#captain price x reader #price x reader #cod smut #captain price smut #john price smut

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starlightazriel · 2 months

Text

bee 8

desc: modern day bestfriends>lovers azriel au (fem reader)

warnings: lots of time jumps, rhys being rhys, arguing/angst, lying, az being unhinged in vegas (leave my bby alone he's not used to serious relationships), reader being insecure , SMUT ! (oral, az eating the booty like groceries (we been over this guys hes a freak), raw dogging, soft dom, self gratification,vibrator, squirting, spanking, cream pie), fluff, drug/alcohol addiction

A/N: IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG MY LIFE IS V V MESSY AND UNHINGED ALSO THIS ISNT FULLY PROOF READ

MOOD FOR THE BEGINNING OF THIS

wc: 5.9k

other parts can be found on my masterlist under azriel

eight

"I got us a massive suite at the four seasons for our trip this weekend," Rhys is grinning while showing Cassian a photo of what he had booked for them. Azriel suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, only Rhys would drop that big of a bag on a weekend work-stay, they were supposed to be location scouting. He didn't want to be ungrateful, but him and Bee were in their honeymoon phase... Everything was just going right, everything except the fact that Rhys wanted to move him hundreds of miles away.

"This weekend?" Azriel grimaces, leaning against the reception desk in the shop. Kat had gone home already and it was just Rhys, Cass and Azriel left. "What if I don't want to uproot my entire life here and move to Vegas?" he asks then, Cass shifts uncomfortably on his feet, looking between his two best friends.

Rhys' jaw flexed and he leaned back, tilting his chin up at Azriel in that power tripping way that he did so often. Azriels jaw flexed, his hands balling up at his sides as he stared Rhys down, not shying away from his intimidating frame. He knew challenging Rhys never ended well, sometimes he just couldn't help himself.

"You do realize that you have a contract, right Azriel? A contract that you signed, a contract that includes relocation if I see fit," Rhys voice is cool and unwavering as he assesses Azriel. "Maybe, if you had been sober while reading the contract, you would have known that was included," Rhys eyes narrowed, the tension in Azriels jaw grew, his temper flaring. "And maybe if you had been sober when we were talking about this trip weeks ago, you would have remembered that we were going this weekend to scout out a few potential new spaces," Rhys tone was unwavering, Cass winced behind him, it was always his job to keep the peace, usually between the three of them it was almost always Rhys and Az butting heads.

"Fuck this, I got dinner plans to get ready for," Azriels voice was a near growl now, and he didn't even bother to say good bye to either of his closest friends before he left them in the shop with a slam of the front door, the bells rattling at the top as it slammed shut.

His annoyance and Rhys' sheer entitlement had him needing to take the edge off. Az loved Rhys, of course he did, he was basically his brother- but that didnt mean they always agreed. Azriel tried not to think about Rhys' jabs at his sobriety while he took a quick sniff from his vile before heading home.

With Bee, it was just easy. Azriel didn't seem to have the same issues he did in the past with other women, being faithful to her came easy. He guessed it was because he always had been loyal to her in a sense, since they were just kids.

The past weeks had been a type of bliss that Azriel had never known, a different kind of high than the one he got from his drug of choice. They were fucking constantly, waking up together every morning, going on dates whenever they had time, fuck, he had even posted her which he had never done for anyone else... It was a picture of her at the beach, grinning so brightly it made his chest feel tight because he put that smile on her face. ive been so blind, was his only explanation under the photo.

And still, he wasn't able to bring himself to tell her about Rhys' Vegas plans for the next year. Everything was too perfect right now. Granted it had only been a few weeks since their first date, but he just didn't wanna mess everything up so soon, he wanted to live in this perfect little bubble just a little longer.

"Az? You with me?" she giggles softly, her dirty martini pulled to her lips, her eyes glowing as she looked at him from under dark lashes. "I think I want to get the vodka pappardelle," she places her glass down again and points to the menu.

"Yeah, whatever you want baby, sorry," he ran his finger through his hair, leaning back into his seat, flicking his eyes back down to the menu. "Just- I know it's last minute, I'm going on a little Vegas trip this weekend with Rhys and Cass," he waited a second before looking up and studied her face, absentmindedly messing with the straw in his own drink.

"A Vegas trip?" Bees eyebrows draw together, her attention was already on him, the menu forgotten, he swallowed. "Like Las Vegas?" she asks, a little more slowly this time. "Why are you guys going out there?" the concern, the uncertainty in her eyes made Azriels gut wrench. He knew he should tell her everything now, tell her that the possibility of him living there next year was becoming less of a possibility and more of a reality. Sure, when she was done with school, she could be a nurse anywhere... But that was still a ways away.

"Boys trip," he shrugs, and it wasn't exactly a lie, it just wasn't the full truth. She looked back at him skeptically, and he knew he had to change the subject soon.

"Boys trip, huh?" she leans back, raising an eyebrow skeptically. In the past- boys trips were really only meant for single Az.

"I'll be good," Az flashes her a smile, he knew he may have used the wrong choice of wording. A year ago, a boys trip to Vegas would have meant unlimited blow, maybe even a threesome, hooking up with randoms, losing all of his money. "Gonna gamble for sure though," he sips his drink, she's still looking at him with a skeptical look as if she knew there was more to the story. Luckily for Az the server came back for the rest of their order.

"Have we made some decisions?" she asks, looking between the two of them, Az only jerked his chin toward Bee, he liked the smile it put on her face to be able to choose everything for them so they could try it together.

"Yes we are going to share the duck pizza and the vodka pappardelle, you want oysters Az?" she lifts her eyes from the menu to look back at Azriel, he smirks and glances up at the server.

"Yeah, we'll start with a dozen," he shrugs and the waitress beams, making sure she had everything correct before leaving the table. "Thank you," he adds, but his eyes are back on Bee.

"So boys trip to Vegas, kinda last minute huh?" she quirks her brow again, leaning forward, her elbows on the table, Azriel tried not to let his eyes settle for too long on her breasts as they spilled slightly out of her top. Of course he wasnt lucky enough that she'd already forgotten about it.

"Yeah, I mean, I knew about it.. Just forgot," he shrugs easily, nudging her foot under the table, her eyes are hazy but he can still see that skeptical glint in them. He didn't want to lie, or leave parts of the truth out... But he also wanted to have a good night before he had to leave in a couple days, plus, she was working the rest of the week until he was gone anyway.

"Interesting," she murmurs, rubbing her finger against the base of her glass. "Anyway, you better bring something back for me," she shrugs before taking another sip from her martini.

"I wouldn't dream of coming back without something for my girl," he licks his lips, nudging her foot gently again under the table, her cheeks warm at his words and she rolls her eyes playfully at him. Az knew he was good at distracting her, though he wasn't sure if that was really a good thing or not.

"Yeah, yeah," she laughs softly, the sound made Azriels chest swell. "Thank you so much," she smiles softly as the runner sets the oysters down on the table between them.

"Can I grab you anything else?" the boy flashes her a cheeky grin that Azriel doesn't miss, he clears his throat as if to remind him he was sitting there across from her.

"More lemons," Az says boredly but there was an edge of annoyance in his tone, making the boys head snap to him and he blushed slightly, nodding his head. He didn't need more lemons, he just wanted to be difficult, the level of jealousy he felt when anyone even spoke to her was something he'd never experienced.

"Oh, of course, I'll be right back," he swallows, before running off back to the kitchen. Azriels eyes snap back to Bee, who's looking at him with pursed lips.

"Azriel, lay off the poor kid he's like eighteen," she shakes her head slightly, he noted that her martini was almost gone now, she was definitely feeling it. He only shrugs, smirking at her, stretching his legs out under the table so they were more than in her space, the skin of her bare calf pressed against his pants, she's nibbling on her lip, her eyes growing darker with lust. He loved how easy it was for him to get her going.

"Here you are, enjoy," hes back quickly and he places the small dish of lemons in front of Azriel.

"We will," Az only nods, Bee makes sure to utter a rushed thank you to him, shooting Azriel another look. "Don't look at me like that, lemme see you swallow," he smirks suggestively and she lets out a little puff of air her jaw dropping slightly but she couldn't help but smile.

"Azriel, don't be gross," she giggled quietly but she was still squeezing lemon onto the first oyster, he watched as the juice dripped off of her fingertips and she picked up the oyster, her eyes meeting his.

"That's it," he murmured, watching her tip her head back slightly and open her lips, her cheeks warmed at the gravelly tone of his voice. "Good practice for when I make you swallow something else tonight," he smirked, sipping from his drink while he watched her rest the shell on her lower lip, he watched her throat bob as she swallowed, humming softly in approval.

"Mmm those are good ones," she giggled softly, turning the shell over and placing it back on the ice.

"Youre a good one," his lips twitched in a sheepish smirk and she held his gaze, her own full of so much love it made his heart rate pick up.

"Az Im worried about you, cheesy much? youre definitely going soft on me," she grinned so brightly it made heat crawl up the back of his neck and onto his cheeks.

His cock was aching in his pants, he couldn't wait to get her back home. His jaw flexed before he muttered "you're going to be my end I swear."

"I should have stopped after the first two," I giggled quietly as I stumbled into my bedroom, kicking my heels off behind me, Azriel was right behind me, I could almost feel his eyes burning into my backside.

"I told you," he says in that low husky tone he often used with me these days, it was laced with so much need it made my head spin. "Anyway, Im glad now because it will give you courage for our reenactment."

"Reenactment?" I ask, turning to look at him now my brow slightly furrowed. "Of what?" I ask curiously, taking each of my earrings off, I had obviously been wearing the ones from Az, I had every day since he had gifted them to me. I had learned that he liked to get rough often, I didnt want to chance losing them so I tucked them away carefully in my jewelry box.

"Of the day I walked in on you," his voice was so calm and commanding it made my toes curl, my breath hitched, a warm tingling sensation spreading throughout my pussy. My cheeks warmed at the thought.

"Az- I can't..." I breathed out, my heart rate picking up at the thought of just purposefully touching myself in front of him.

"I didnt ask if you could. You will," he says, his voice so sure, and he was right. Knowing what he could do to me... Anything he told me to do, Id do it. Especially when he sounded like that. "I'll give you about five minutes to get situated, ten if youre lucky but I don't think I can be that patient. Im going to show you what I wanted to do to you," he adds, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. I was already moving before my brain could even process. My throat bobbed, my cheeks embarrassingly red as I retrieved the toy I had used that day from my top drawer and I left him alone in my room. It was annoying how easily he could render me speechless these days.

I slipped out of my dress and my panties, leaving them both on his bedroom floor, I didn't dare look at myself in the full length mirror he had. I let myself fall back onto his bed, inhaling his cedary scent just like I did that day he walked in on me.

My heart was racing as I spread my legs and placed my rose toy on my clit. I let out a small huff my eyes on Azriels open bedroom door as I let the toy suction softly to my pussy. My hand traveled up, caressing my skin gently before settling on my nipple, I rolled it gently between my fingertips. My breath hitched when he appeared in the door way, looking handsome as ever, my cheeks warmed at the sight of him. How had I gotten so lucky?

"That's my baby," Azriel chuckled darkly as he leaned against the door frame to his bedroom. I moaned softly when our eyes met, my cheeks turning pink. "Now if I had been bold enough that day, I would have got down on my knees like I'm about to now,"

"Az," I whimpered softly in desperation, the need for him starting to outweigh my nerves. It was hard to want to hide when he made me feel so sexy. A single look was enough to do me in.

"Shh baby," he hums softly and in one fluid motion, pulls me to the edge of the bed and slowly drops to his knees. I whimper softly as he brushes the sides of his face against my inner thighs, inhaling my scent before spreading my legs. I gasped softly my hand shaking slightly as I held my toy between my legs.

Azriel sucked gently and bit at the sensitive skin on my inner thighs, a guttural moan escaped my lips at the contrasting feeling. The sting of his little nibbles mixed with the soft buzz and suction from my toy had my back arching up. "Please Az," I gasped softly, I knew there would be little bruises peppered over my delicate skin.

"Please what baby?" he breathed out, his breath hot against my sensitive skin. My head was spinning, I didn't know if it was from the alcohol I'd drank at dinner or from the way he touched me, the way he took control, guided me. It just felt so right, so perfect.

"Please," I let a heavy breath pass through parted lips, my heart beating rapidly against my chest. "Please taste me, I need you," I begged softly, gasping as he pushed my legs up, the delicious scrape of his rough hands against my skin sending heat slithering down my spine.

"That's my good girl," he licked his lips at the sight of me, my legs spread and up in the air, bared to him except for my clit, the vibrator still buzzing around it. I was already so close, my cunt pulsating with need for him. My breath hitched when I felt his mouth on me, the slow lazy roll of his tongue on my second hole sending stars dancing in my eyes. I hummed softly, tossing my head back and letting my eyes squeeze shut, goosebumps raising all over my skin.

"F-fuck Az," I breathed out, the new sensation making my mind go numb. His thumbs pressed harder into the backs of my thighs, I arched my back slightly, gasping again for breath as he circled his tongue around and around my opening. He held my legs open as they threatened to close, quivering pathetically underneath his touch. It was only a matter of seconds before I was cumming, his name ringing out through the room, making him moan against me. My vibrator fell from my hand, gently hitting his cheek before rolling onto the floor next to him. I panted, my hips wriggling underneath him as he sucked the sensitive skin between my pussy and my ass before covering my entire cunt with his mouth. "Ohh my- fuck-" each word came out in a pathetic broken moan as he shook his head between my legs. I couldn't hold it back anymore and I was squirting all over his face, he moaned against me, pulling off of my pussy with a soft sucking sound.

He gently licked me down from my high, my body jerking with the aftershocks of my intense orgasms. "Damn baby I didnt know you could do that," his eyes are so dark and hazy with lust as he kisses back up my body, hes back on his feet now, hovering over me. "My little sprinkler," he teases before biting down softly on my nipple, I yelped softly, my body jerking.

"Az, I need you so fucking bad," I breathed out my eyes meeting with his. He grinned in that lazy way he did his face still glistening with my cum. He looked so damn happy, it made my heart sing. It had been a bit of a rare sight these last couple years... But these past few weeks? He had been nothing but happy, it made my chest swell knowing I was the cause of that happiness.

"I was gonna put my cock in your mouth first but since you've been so good we'll save it for later," he stood up straight, looking down at me hungrily, my legs laying lazily over the edge of the bed now. He undid his pants, his eyes never leaving me as he dropped them to the floor. "Lay on your stomach," he commanded, his voice gravelly. He watched me readjust myself, cursing quietly under his breath as I lay on my stomach across his bed before him.

I let out a moan when his hand unexpectedly connected with my ass with a loud slapping sound, the sting sending my toes curling. He gently lifted me up, his arm wrapping around my torso and lifting up with ease. He slid a pillow underneath to prop me up perfectly. Azriel gently rubbed his rough fingers over the tender spot he had smacked, humming in approval. "Ive wanted to do that since I watched you walk away from me in the hall that day," he admits, only earning a whimper in response from me. I was so ready for him to fuck me into nothing.

I shivered as Azriel slowly slid his fingertips over my shoulders and down my arms gently wrapping his large scarred fingers around the tips of his fingers pressing into the insides of my elbows as he pulled my arms behind my back. He used one hand to pin my wrists to my lower back, I whimpered softly, begging him for his cock again as his hand tightened on my wrists, his large hands finding no trouble.

He used his other hand to guide his cock toward my pussy, not bothering with a condom. If it was one thing about Az, we were fucking raw, every time. He slid his tip over my slick cunt, teasing gently before sinking into me, cursing softly under his breath as he did. "Yes please fuck me, please," I begged desperately, the side of my face pressed into his bed.

"That's my girl, so wet and tight for me," his fingers were gripping the bed beneath me, his mouth almost by my ear now as he moved in and out of me his cock filled me up over and over.

I moaned his name again, arching my back up for him, he hissed under his breath and spanked me again, I felt my ass jiggle under his big hand, the sting made my body jerk. "I love how you fuck me," I whimpered softly, feeling like a puddle beneath him, he still my hands pinned to my back, he let out a low groan from deep in his throat, up on his knees as he slammed his hips over and over against my ass.

I let out another broken moan, his considerable length dragging over my g spot every time he thrusted himself into me, I couldnt hold it in anymore and I came all over his cock with my third orgasm of the night, stars danced behind my eyes my body tensing underneath him. I couldnt stop the scream that left my lips as he continued fucking me, cursing again softly and squeezing my tender and red flesh from his spanks. "Ohh yesss Az..." I moaned again, his thrusts lost their rhythm as he grew closer, his breath heavy and erratic behind me.

"Mmm baby you're so fucking sexy," he breathed out before letting out a low guttural groan. "I'm gonna fill up that pretty little cunt," he grunted in my ear and with a few more thrusts I cried out softly at the feeling of his thick ropes of cum spilling into my pussy. So damn good. "Fuck," he breathed slowly pulling his hands from my wrists, my arms fell back at my sides and I whimpered softly as he slowly pulled his cock from my pussy. He swore again under his breath, "Stay just like that," he muttered, leaning over and grabbing his phone from the bedside table, and I felt him slap his still semi hard cock on my ass cheek. "For later," I could hear the grin in his voice as he snapped a picture of his gleaming cock against my ass. I just whimpered softly in response, my body feeling limp my mind numb. He tossed his phone aside on the bed and flipped me over onto my back and placed a soft kiss to my lips.

I had been waiting to get fucked like this for years. None of my past lovers had ever been able to compare to the way that Az made me feel, though if things hadn't gone the way they did with Az I probably would have ended up giving Eris another chance.

"You're so damn good at fucking," I huffed out, looking up at him with hazy satisfaction. "It's not fair," he just laughed and leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead and then my lips. I let my eyes flutter shut again as he tucked my hair behind my ear before he muttered "let's get you cleaned up baby."

"Send me lots of pictures," Bee flashes her biggest grin, hugging Azriel so tightly. He smiled down at her, squeezing her back and pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. He was glad she had brought them to the air port, it gave him just a little extra time with her.

"I promise baby I will, I'm gonna miss you," he rubs small circles into her back, savoring the last few minutes they had together before he was on the plane.

"Be good okay?" she drops her voice lower, Rhys and Cass were standing off to the side waiting for him while he said his last goodbyes. He could tell she didn't want them to hear this part. "Just like- stick to drinking and bud okay? Just don't want you to buy something without knowing what it is for sure first.." she mumbles softly, biting down gently on her lip.

Az sighs quietly, pulling away slightly at her words, he knew she meant well but he couldn't help but get the tiniest bit annoyed. "I'm gonna be fine, chill off me," he chuckled quietly but leaned down and pressed one more kiss to her lips, because he know she was only saying that because she cared about him... She had never exactly supported his extracurricular activities. "I'll be good, and you better be good too," he warns playfully, but there was a slight edge in his tone so she would know he did mean it. "You're mine now, I don't want to hear about any red headed visitors," he raises an eyebrow and she pursed her lips, glaring lightly at him.

"Azriel. You know I would never-"

"I know," he cuts her off, brushing a lock of her hair behind her ear. "I gotta go baby, text me when you're home safe alright? I'll text you when I land," he opens his arms one last time to crush her in good bye hug, she hums softly tucking her chin into his neck and inhaling his scent.

"I love you," she mumbles softly, he just grinned and hugged her even tighter, he kissed the top of her head, not daring to utter it back yet. Some things he just wasn't ready for.

He had told her he loved her dozens of times, but he knew the next time he said those words to her, they would carry a whole different weight.

It was evening on the second day when they finally made it out onto the strip, the first day had been filled with scouting out locations. Rhys had already signed a lease, much to his own surprise, he thought he'd have to come back a few times before finding the perfect spot for their new shop. The signing was followed by a very late dinner and a few bottles of champagne before they retreated back to the massive suite Rhys had got for them.

Azriel had to admit, he liked it here. He was having a blast with his brothers, and he hadn't wanted to admit it before but he could see himself living here. He knew this would be a level up for him, he would make way more money out here... Plans were already stirring in his head for how he would convince Bee to move out here with him, she would have to transfer schools, quit her job... He knew that was a lot to ask. He couldn't imagine not living with her anymore...

"Sin city baby!!! AZ! Get outta your head man do you see this shit?" Cass had been excited since the moment they stepped off the plane yesterday, they were all quite fucked up now. They had been gambling all night, winning and losing money and had now settled in one of the nicest clubs Azriel had ever been in. There was half naked bottle girls everywhere, and of course Rhys had got them a VIP section with bottle service included.

"Oh I see it," Azriel laughs softly, catching the eyes of the bottle girl who was leaning very close to him as she poured shots for the three of them. She was definitely giving him the eyes. Azriel had to look away then, turning his head back toward Cass. "I'm just fucked up," against Bees wishes, the first thing he had done this morning was purchase a gram.

"Better hope that shit didn't have fenty in it," Rhys turns his head to look at Az, who rolls his eyes in response.

"It's doesn't," he snaps back, before downing another shot, he didn't even know how many he'd had at this point. "It's just good shit you want a line?" he raises his eyebrows, there had been a time the three of them did this all together. Az just never grew out of it...

"I'll take one man, I'm in fucking Vegas!" Cass shouts, earning a laugh from Az who simply passed the little white bag over. This was one thing about Vegas he liked, the freedom of just being able to do a line in the club and no one even batted a single eye because it was Vegas, and obviously one of them had money if they had a VIP here.

"Some day the two of you will grow up," Rhys sighs before beckoning the bottle girl over for the list of bottles they could purchase.

"Get the Clase Rhys we are celebrating!" Cass voice boomed out and he shot to his feet, shaking his head with the effect the drugs had on him. Azriel just laughed and snatched his little bag back from him.

"Easy," Az laughs again, catching the bottle girls eye again, he didn't mean to, she was fucking staring. She flashed him a seductive little grin before retreating to get the bottle that Rhys had ordered.

He knew a few months ago he would have flirted a little and ended up taking her back to the room. He wasn't single anymore though, and the pain it would cause Bee just for him to get his nut off for a night while he was on his boys trip, it just wasn't worth it. Plus, he needed her to know he wasn't that guy anymore. He wanted to be everything for her.

"No fucking way," my phone tightened in my hand as I stared down at it, Kat and I were out to brunch, she figured we should have a little girls weekend while the boys were away. So finally we were able to do something since I had Sunday off, Az wouldn't be landing back home until late tonight.

"What is it?" Kat asks, lifting her eyes from her plate.

"Go look at fucking Cassian's instagram," I said through gritted teeth as I swiped through each photo from their apparent escapades lastnight.

There was my Az, my Az... Grinning wickedly, leaning over, face smushed between the tits of two bottle girls who were wearing nothing but lingerie to cover their most intimate bits. He had his arms around each of them, a drink nearly spilling over one of their shoulders. His pupils were blown out, clearly he hadn't listened to me about staying away from drugs out there. My heart was sinking further with the scroll of each photo. There was another snap shot of him dancing with one of them, she was bent over, her ass shaking on him, one of his hands loosely on her waist.

"Oh fuuuck.." Kat drew out the word, her eyes widening as she looked down at the photos on her phone.

"Yeah fuck is right," I locked my phone, tossing it on the table next to me before downing the rest of my mimosa. "I fucking knew it, he hasn't changed even a little bit- As soon as he said boys trip I-"

"Boys trip?" she asked, drawing her eyebrows together. "That's what he told you?" she asks, biting her lip and gnawing on it a bit. What the fuck did she know?

"Kat...?" I say slowly, meeting her eyes, her cheeks are flushed as if she had just said something she knew she shouldn't have.

"I- I'm sure Az is going to tell you- I don't think it's my place to-"

"Just spit it out," I was starting to get more angry, the gnawing feeling of shame starting to eat at my stomach. "What do you know?!" I demanded and she loosed a breath, leaning back in her seat.

"Bee- I swear I thought he told you- Please don't tell him it was me that said anything I'm sure he's just waiting for-"

"Just spit it out Kat," I repeat, an impatient edge to my tone. What had he kept from me?

"It was a location scouting trip- For-for the new shop that Rhys is opening up with Az and Cass in Vegas," her voice is soft now, and she's almost wincing as she waits for my reaction.

Just like that... It felt like everything had been some sick game to pass the time. My stomach turned, I felt like I was going to lose everything I had eaten on our little brunch date.

"I'm so fucking stupid," I breathed softly, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill from my eyes. I really thought I knew him better than that... I never expected him to pull some shit like this. To keep something this big from me.

Azriel groaned loudly as he rolled over, the silky sheets slipping from his skin as he reached for his phone. He smiled, noticing the few notifications he had from Bee, his face quickly fell, and he was sitting up straight in an instant rubbing his eyes.

good morning!! can't wait to see you tonight

Normal, but the message below that one, and the notification that she stopped sharing her location? Definitely not normal. They had been sharing location for years, basically since it had become an option.

going to visit my family for a couple days i'll talk to you when i get back.

He quickly typed out a response.

everything okay baby?

He knew he had forgotten to face time her lastnight before he went to bed, but he was so fucked up he couldn't even remember getting home. And it had to have been almost 5 am when they had gotten back to the resort. She had asked him before they left to face time her before he went to sleep both nights, surely she couldn't be that mad over that, could she?

As he padded into the little kitchen that was built into the suite, his eyes were glued to his phone. He opened instagram next, and his stomach twisted slightly when he pressed her story and it was one of those dumb quotes girls tended to post after getting dumped about never really being able to know someone.

Fuck what did I do? his face had gone a little pale, the contents of the michelin star dinner they had lastnight and all the alcohol he had consumed bubbled in his stomach, he was racking his brain, trying to piece together the night, he couldn't really remember much of anything once they had left the casino and got to the club.

All he had to do was scroll down to the top post on his feed and his face paled. "Cass are you fucking dumb?" he's in Cassians part of the suite before he can even think shaking him awake.

"What the fuck man?" Cass groans, rolling over and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Rhys was behind them now, he had been up for an hour or two already.

"You saw the instagram post didn't you?" Rhys chuckles from behind him, holding his coffee cup in hand, leaning against the door frame.

"You think this shits funny?" He demands, whirling around to direct his attention to Rhys. As angry as he was at Cass, he knew it was only his fault that he had bought coke and got completely black out shit faced drunk. "Man fuck both of you," he growls and turns on his heel, storming to the bathroom and slamming the door behind him.

a/n: sorry but if it's one thing abt me yk i love drama

taglist: @smalljasper289 @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @scorpioriesling @userxs-blog @lilah-asteria @abadfantasybook @judeduartewannbe @lindsayscottagebythesea @velarisdusk @serxndipity-ipity-blog @julesvanslutta

#acotar #azriel smut #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #acotar smut #azriel fanfic #azriel fic #azriel spymaster #azriel fan fiction #azriel fluff #azriel x you #azriel fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel au #azriel acotar

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baddest-batchers · 3 months

Text

Crumbling Walls

hi loves, I’m back at it again with another Tech x fem!reader ficlet. this one almost became two smaller chapters but I couldn’t wait to post the entire thing, so enjoy!! reader is CF99’s assigned medic, fic takes place before Order 66. Not entirely proofread!

Summary: You have been hopping star systems and taking care of the Batch for a several months, but upon first meeting them you instantly fell for Tech. But you’re not giving into your feelings for him so easily and have tried to build a wall around your heart to keep the adorable bespectacled clone out and at a safe distance. That is, until Tech comes back from a mission with a more serious injury than ever before, your walls begin to break down. Reader has trust issues/insecurities from a past unrequited love situation and is in hella denial about Tech feeling the same way about her.

Tag warnings: MDNI! TW for anyone uncomfortable with descriptions of minor medical procedure involving removal of a foreign object, description of injury, needles. Angst, angst, angst. Insecure reader. Other than that, there’s just hella kissing lol.

Word count: 4.2k

Taglistist: @alegendoftomorrow @techwrecker

Dividers: @general-ida-raven

The Marauder was all but silent except for the soothing hum of the ship’s systems. You and Echo were on guard duty while the rest of Clone Force 99 was dispatched to a Separatist base located a few klicks north of the closest village. You had just finished making a list of needed supplies and rations when suddenly Hunter’s voice broke the calming silence.

"Tech's hurt, bad." Hunter's voice crackled to life through the comm on your wrist. Your heart immediately jumped up into your throat.

"What happened? How badly is he injured?" You struggled to keep your voice even and steady.

"Pretty bad. There was a rogue explosive and it sent him flyin—" Hunter began to say before Tech cut him short, his voice coming through the comm.

"Hunter is exaggerating. It is only a sprained wrist and a few shrapnel scrapes-agh!" Tech groaned in pain as he clung to his brother for support.

A small wave of relief washed over you at the sound of Tech's voice. He was talking and that was a reassuring sign. Walking briskly over to the compartment where the medkit was stored, you opened it and began counting it's contents to be sure you were prepared to treat Tech's injuries

"I thought this mission was supposed to be relatively lowkey?” You said into your comm in between your mental count of the med supplies.

"The intel we received was grossly misleading." Tech panted out. “But we successfully recovered the droid factory schematics and blueprints.”

"We were outnumbered. There was a group of Separatist insurgents accompanying the droid battalion. They were definitely trained fighters." Hunter said quickly. "We need a pick up. Tell Echo to hurry it up."

"On it. Standby." Echo affirmed through his own comm. The Marauder rumbled upon ignition and took off smoothly from their landing zone, Echo piloting with ease to his brothers' rescue.

While the mission had been a success, you couldn’t help the irritation that took hold in your gut at the Jedi’s inaccurate intel. But Tech was hurt and that was the only thought that was pushing all other feelings aside.

You tried to steady your breathing as you took the bacta patches out of the medkit along with a gauze roll, magtweezers, and the medscanner.

You laid them out neatly on a tray so that you'd be ready to patch Tech up the moment Hunter and the rest of the squad boarded.

This wasn't the first time you'd patched Tech up nor would it be the last, but something inside you ached at the thought of him getting hurt more seriously than he ever had been on previous missions. Rationally, you knew that you shouldn't feel this way, but your blaring affection for Tech made your heart drop at the mere thought of him being injured at all. Hastily, you shoved your feelings for the bespectacled clone back down over the wall you had built so high around your heart.

Your crush on Clone Force 99’s most brilliantly minded and skilled pilot was almost immediate upon your assignment to them a few months back. But you did everything in your power to push those feelings away. Getting involved with someone you were working alongside was not on your list of things you wanted to ever happen…again. It had bit you in the rear before and you were definitely not going to find out if it would again this time. You had fostered a crush on a former coworker during your stint at the Kaminoan medbay a few years back and it turned out that your feelings had been entirely one sided. You had been strung along like a loth-cat chasing a string. You swore after that you’d never pursue any kind of romantic relationship with a coworker again. Never again.

Echo lowered the Marauder to hover just above the pick up point and opened the hatch from the cockpit. Wrecker and Crosshair bounded in first while Hunter hauled Tech up last.

The sight of him sucked the breath you had been holding right out of your lungs, a quiet gasp escaping your lips. For a moment, you were stuck where you stood, legs feeling like they were magnetized to the metal deck of the ship. But before you knew it you were rushing to help Hunter get Tech to one of the lower bunks so that you could begin treating his wounds and assessing any further damage.

Hunter laid Tech out on the bunk and carefully lifted his brother's helmet from his head.

"I've got him, Hunter." You reassured him without taking your eyes from Tech's wounded form.

"Alright. I want an update when you're done with him." Hunter spoke with the masked worry you had come to recognize over the course of many missions with his squad.

"Of course." You affirmed him, this time tearing your gaze from Tech to nod at Hunter.

Hunter returned the nod and turned on his heel toward the cockpit.

Once safely gliding through hyperspace, you immediately got to work on Tech. Pulling on a pair of sterile gloves, you looked over the shrapnel wounds scattered down the left side of his body. Thank the Maker that his armor had taken a majority of the jagged pieces of metal and debris. But there was a larger fragment stuck in his abdomen where his armor didn't cover his body. His blacks were soaked with blood around the wound. Upon your first scan of the area, you immediately got to work. Grabbing the hypoinjection from the tray, you held it up to ensure the proper dosage of the strong painkiller was loaded into it before injecting it into Tech’s bloodstream.

“Here, this will help with the pain.” You said while carefully pulling down the collar of his blacks and lining up the hypo with his carotid artery.

“Keep still for me.” You said gently and injected the contents of the hypo into his neck. He groaned through his teeth at the intrusion of the needle into his skin but kept as still as he could.

“I’ll assess your wrist when I’m finished with removing all of this shrapnel.” You informed him while gently prodding his wrist with your skilled fingers.

Next, you had to remove his armor so that you could begin to remove the large bit of shrapnel lodged in his side.

"Tech, I'm going to remove your armor, okay? I need better access to these wounds, especially the one in your abdomen." You said slowly, making sure he understood.

"Yes—agh! O-of course." Tech managed to get out before attempting to sit up and assist you with the removal his armor. He gently shook out his sprained wrist as he pushed himself up from the cot.

"No," You laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You just lay there and let me do the work. I've got you. Please don't fight me on this." After easing Tech back down you hastily got to work on the fastenings that held his plastiod chest and back armor in place, slowly easing them off of him. You removed his utility belt, and leg armor and pouches next, gently placing all of his things in a neat pile on the floor at the foot of the bunk.

Now that Tech was down to his blacks, you were able to get a better look at the rest of his injuries. The sight of him in only his blacks sent a shock of warmth through you but you shook it off dismissively and continued assessing his wounds.

Your eyes roved over him, taking note of his slowed breathing by the rising and falling of his chest. After pausing for a moment to make sure the pain medication was working, you took another scan of his vitals. You smiled faintly, thankful that they were beginning to stabilize.

"How is the pain now, Tech?" You asked while setting down the medscanner.

“Better than it was previously." Tech’s voice was hoarse and something about hearing him in pain like this threatened to crack the wall around your heart further. Shoving the thought aside, you cleared your own voice before speaking again.

“Good. Alright, I’m going to remove the shrapnel stuck in your abdomen.” You said steadily while grabbing the scissors off of the tray so as to begin cutting away the fabric surrounding the wound. Once you had a better visual on the shrapnel, you reached for the alcohol pad and gently swabbed it clean as best you could. You grabbed the anesthetic gel and gingerly dabbed it around the wound.

“You won’t feel a thing, I promise.” You paused to look at him again, noticing the sudden change in the coloring of his face.

Tech had gone considerably more pale and you noticed his hand began to tremble slightly, most likely due to the loss of blood. Stripping off a glove, you instinctively reached for his hand and closed your fingers around it, rubbing soothing circles into the back of his hand through his glove.

“It’s going to be okay, Tech. I’ve got you.” You reassured him in a hushed tone, leaning in closer to him.

Through half lidded eyes he looked at you and nodded, “I have every faith that you do.” His voice was so ragged. Your heart ached hearing him like this. You begged the Force for the ability to just snap your fingers and have him be healed instantly. But, unfortunately, you were not gifted in such ways and only had your medical training to rely upon for the task of healing Tech’s wounds. Despite that, something warm began to spread through your chest and before you could stop yourself, you lifted his hand to your lips and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of his trembling, still-gloved knuckles.

Realizing what you had just done and inwardly chastising yourself, you quickly began to loosen your grip on his hand, but Tech tightened his fingers around yours before you could pull away. He brought your hand to his mouth and pressed an equally gentle kiss to the backs of your fingers.

Your eyes widened at him returning the gesture and you felt your cheeks begin to grow warm before remembering to remain focused on the task of healing him. Before he finally released your hand, you gave him a shy smile, eyes flitting back and forth between his, trying to tell if he was merely in a haze from the pain meds or if he had returned the kiss intentionally. Another crack in your stronghold spread.

“How is he?” Echo’s voice suddenly pulled you from the moment abruptly. You nor Tech had noticed him standing off to the side near the berthing door.

“He’s stable, I’m removing the shrapnel now.” You turned suddenly to look at the ARC trooper while simultaneously pulling your hand back from Tech’s grasp, “I’ll let you know when he’s all patched up.”

Before Echo turned around to leave you to it, he raised a quizzical eyebrow, a slight smirk tugging at his thin lips. You blushed furiously, knowing he definitely caught the tender moment between you and his brother. He shook his head and chuckled lightly before turning on his heel to walk back toward the cockpit.

“You’re in good hands, Tech.” Echo called back behind him before the cockpit doors slid shut.

A small sigh escaped your lips before you turned your attention back to Tech’s injuries. Tech watched you intently, then briefly caught your gaze.

“I concur with Echo. I believe I am in very capable hands.” Tech smiled weakly, his eyes conveying an intense sincerity. But you weren’t looking at his face. You were too focused on the delicate work before you and burying your feelings to realize the sincerity in his words.

“Let me get you patched up before you can say that for sure.” You half smiled, letting your eyes flick back to his face for a moment before turning to the tray of medical instruments. No, no, bury it. He’s just dazed out from the meds. He doesn’t have feelings for—

Tech reached out and placed a hand on your wrist. He had noticed the twisted look of frustration on your face. You froze, the contact bringing your thoughts to an abrupt pause as you slowly shifted your eyes from his hand to meet his own.

“You have saved my own life and those of my brothers countless times. I believe I have gathered sufficient data to be able to say so for certain.” His tone was so sincere. “There is no one I trust more with my life, aside from my own brothers, than you.” Tech held your gaze as he spoke, his timbre soft.

“That’s the pain meds talking. I’m just a GAR medic and I’m not especially gifted in my field.” You shook your head in disbelief. There was no way he means any of this. Tech had never shown much interest in you before this, at least none that you would even consider perceiving, so you concluded that the higher dose of pain medication was to blame for him speaking like this.

Oh how wrong you were. Tech had fallen hard for you and he had tried to show you in numerous ways, but you were more stubborn and closed off than even Crosshair at times. If you noticed him showing you any bit of more than what was required attention, you quickly shook it from your mind. Brick by brick, you enclosed yourself behind the wall that had risen around your heart.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean, Tech. Please.” You said quietly, trying to blink back the tears that suddenly threatened your vision.

“I do not understand.” Tech said slowly, tilting his head ever so slightly in confusion. “I endeavor to never say things that I do not mean.” His grip on your wrist tightened gently.

Looking at him would only make your tears spill over, so you stared at the medical tray to your right and shook your head. “You’re under the influence of the pain meds I gave you. It’s making you say these things.”

Pausing for a moment, Tech brought the hand that was wrapped around your wrist slowly to your chin and tipped your face gently to look at him.

“You forget, cyar’ika, that my mind is not as susceptible to the muddling effects of most pain inhibiting medications.” Tech imparted softly. His thumb rubbed slowly over your chin, almost coaxingly, as if he were trying to draw you out of your disbelief. The soothing feeling of his thumb drew another blush to your face.

“Tech, I…please..please don’t string me along like this, don’t touch me the way that you are right now. I can’t handle it, not when I’ve spent the last several months trying to bury my feelings for you.” Your confession tumbled from your lips before you could stop it. Tears spilling over your lashes and down onto Tech’s gloved hand that was still cradling your chin, you gently pulled yourself free of his grasp. You roughly wiped your tears with your sleeve and blinked back the rest of them that were treacherously close to spilling over. Half the wall had crumbled now.

“You, uh—“ your voice faltered a bit before forcing composure and speaking again. “You need to relax and let me finish removing the shrapnel stuck in you.”

Tech nodded and slowly lowered his hand back to his side. His expression was etched with visible confusion, but he did not say another word.

Over the next few rotations, you made yourself scarce around Tech, or at least as scarce as you could be within the close quarters of the Marauder. You avoided being alone with him and had even asked Hunter to switch watch shifts with you during the night so you didn’t have to awkwardly make small talk with Tech when relieving him from his shift.

However, you had noticed that Tech had attempted to catch your eye a few times and even went as far as to bring you a cup of caf the morning after the mission that had left him injured. But you did your best to limit your interactions with him to only following up with the aftercare of his wounds and to check the progress of his healing.

Two full weeks had passed by the time the next mission for Clone Force 99 was sent in. The Batch had been able to spend a little bit of downtime on Kamino while you took up a few shifts in the medbay. Avoiding Tech was much easier on Kamino than it was on the Marauder and you were grateful for the space. But there was this new, nagging feeling in your chest that secretly hoped he would come and find you, yet you feigned annoyance at it and tried to shove it away by completing mundane tasks around the medbay to keep your mind distracted. Building back the wall around your heart was getting more and more tedious as time passed.

After the orders for a new mission on Kashyyyk came through, you dragged your feet at preparing for the haul through hyperspace in very close quarters with Tech. Hunter had even pulled you aside before boarding in the hangar and asked if things were alright. You lied, even though you knew he could feel that you were with his enhanced senses.

A quiet knock on the durasteel wall startled you from your inventory intake down in the Marauder’s hold. You looked up from your datapad to find Tech standing a few feet away, his expression was neutral, except he was coddling his right wrist in his left hand, the one that he had sprained when that rogue explosive blew him against the wall of a nearby building.

“Might I interrupt you for a few moments?” Tech asked before crossing the threshold into the cargo hold.

Your eyes tracked from his face down to his wrist, then nodded before turning momentarily back to your datapad.

Tech offered a small smile and took the few steps that would bring him to your side.

“My..wrist seems to still be of some bother. I was wondering if you would consider taking another look at it.” Tech held out his wrist, somewhat shyly trying to catch your gaze.

“Uh, sure, o-of course.” You swallowed the lump that took up residence in your throat. “Let me just finish this last bit of data input.” You uttered more so to your datapad than to Tech.

“Of course.” He responded and dropped his wrist down to his side.

You idled for a moment, tapping mindlessly at your datapad in a desperate attempt to stall for time to think of something, anything to say to him, but your words were failing you miserably. Knowing you couldn’t avoid him any longer, you let out a breath and set the datapad down onto one of the crates.

“Okay, let me see.” You gestured to his wrist that hung at his side. He lifted it and placed it into your outstretched hand. Gently, you prodded your finger around it, feeling for any swelling or tender spots. Tech didn’t wince or pull away, but rather stood staring at his hand in yours.

Feeling more emboldened than he had when he decided to seek you out, Tech took a slight step closer. “I…believe you should remove my glove to get a better look at the sprained area.” His voice was low, his tone sounded more suggestive than he initially intended it to be.

Tech’s words caught you off guard, making your mouth fall slightly agape while your eyes shot from his wrist to his own in surprise. They were soft behind his yellow-tinted goggles and your heart started pounding harder than it had when Tech first appeared in the lift of the cargo hold.

Without protest, you slowly began to slide off his glove before you could think better of yourself. You gently pulled at each finger tip to loosen it from his hand and once it was loose enough, you slowly slid it off.

Your face was flushing furiously as you bid for any shred of composure you could muster inside your whirling thoughts.

The act of slowly pulling off his glove seemed entirely too intimate, even though you had done it countless times before to all of his brothers when needing to treat their various injuries. You let out the breath you had been holding and turned his wrist slowly in your hand, taking in the way his bare skin felt against your own in such a burning, intimate way.

As you went to open your mouth to tell him that you didn’t see any visible signs of lingering injury, Tech spoke into the small space between you, “Forgive me, I am not very well adept at reading other’s emotions nor expressing my own feelings outwardly. It was never my intention to make you believe that I had taken no interest in you.”

“Tech..wh-what are you saying—” You stammered out when Tech paused to pull his wrist gently from your grasp, watching as his hand came to cradle the side of your face.

“I often times do not know how I should express my feelings. They are quite perplexing to me, but it is my hope that you are now able to see clearly what I do happen to feel for you.” His voice was so astoundingly soft, matching the adoring way he was looking into your eyes.

Tears began to well in your own eyes at his sweet admissions. You brought your hand to cover his own that was still cupping your face.

“So…you really did mean what you said before…” You managed to get out between shuddery breaths. A single tear slid down your cheek but Tech slowly swiped it away with his thumb.

“Well, of course I did, mesh’la.” Tech murmured sweetly, tilting his head ever so slightly.

The wall finally came crashing down.

Before any more words could be exchanged, you reached up and pulled Tech in close, kissing him with all of the fervor and admiration you had been trying to deny since the moment you met him.

Tech froze for the briefest of moments at the sudden contact of your lips against his but then leaned in to deepen the kiss, matching your passion with his own. His hand dropped from your face to reach for your waist, enveloping you into his arms. Your hands found their way to the back of his neck, gently splaying your fingers into his short auburn curls.

None of what was happening felt real, yet the only thing grounding you in the moment was the heat Tech was causing to build in your core. The feel of his arms around your waist, his hands reverently caressing your back, and the way his lips moved against your own tethered you to the reality of the moment .

Seeking to be even closer to you, Tech gently lifted you up onto one of the crates behind you with ease and strength, pushing his toned form against your knees, all the while never ceasing his fervent kisses. This drew a light gasp from you as he settled you onto it, bracing yourself against his shoulders. His hands fell to the tops of your thighs as he began trailing kisses down your neck to your exposed collar bone. With one hand, he slowly slid it down to rest atop your right knee, wordlessly asking if he might push them open to slot himself closer to you as you sat on the crate.

You hummed your consent and let Tech push your knees apart, closing the gap with his body, your legs hanging on either side of him. You squeezed them against his sides, his armor and tool belt digging into your skin through your pants, but you didn’t care if it was uncomfortable. You didn’t want to let him go.

Tech was dressed in his armor from the waist down, the top of his blacks clinging to his toned upper body so perfectly. You let your hands fall to his chest, then dragged them up across his shoulders and biceps. He was so much stronger than meets the eye, especially when he was fully armored. Quiet strength of body and loud strength of mind. Those two things were on the long list of qualities that drew you to him and made you instantly fall for him all those months ago.

The neediness of each kiss began to melt into something more reverent and slow. Tech was savoring each sensation he felt, from being pressed to your body to the softness of your lips moving against his. He had never kissed anyone like this before, nor had anyone ever kissed him in this manner either.

Your fingers scratched lightly at the nape of his neck, weaving into his short curls, then up to the strap of his goggles. You didn’t risk removing them from his face, even though they had been digging into your cheeks when his kissing had been hungrier.

Finally, Tech pulled away, breaking the contact with your lips with a gentle smack. Both of you were panting slightly and breathless in each other’s embrace, foreheads pressed together. Your heart was still pounding in your chest when you finally let out a small giggle in the little space between you both.

“Oh, Tech…” You sighed happily, hands coming to rest lightly on his chest, “I’m so-just—wow.” Your mind was a completely scrambled mess. You couldn’t focus on anything but him and the way he felt slotted between your knees, his hands planted firmly on your waist.

Another brief moment of silence washed over you both, only the hum of the Marauder and your slowed breaths filled the air. Tech broke away from your forehead, his muted honey colored eyes slowly roving over your features as if he were searching for something.

“Am I correct in assuming that you finally believe my feelings for you to be true, then?” Tech finally asked, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

This pulled a soft giggle from you as you slid your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer so that his forehead was now resting against yours again.

“Yes, Tech, I believe you.” You whispered contently.

“Good.” He sighed, drawing you against him a little tighter, “Because I do not know how to make it any more obvious.”

Before you could playfully push him away, Tech pressed his lips to yours in another wanting kiss, his bare hand coming to rest gently on the side of your neck. You shivered at his delicate yet deliberate touch. The walls you had built around your heart to keep him out had crumbled completely. Tech was now lodged firmly in your heart and you had no intention of letting him go.

•••

#I’m unwell #the bad batch #the bad batch fanfiction #star wars #tbb #tbb tech #tech x fem!reader #tech x reader #tech x medic #star wars fanfiction #star wars the bad batch #baddest batcher writes

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toxicanonymity · 1 year

Text

just the tip (really)

2.4k / Joel x f!reader / master list

A/N: This follows: Just the tip and surveillance.

Warnings: MDNI I8+. Angst. Handsy, horny, persistent manipulative, toxic Joel. Dubcon (high pressure, power imbalance), uninvited touching, jacking off, just the tip (literally) P/V. Reader blue balls. Pet names, praise. AU, you're a maid.

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

As Joel's nose drags up the side of your neck, the strong suction of his nostrils makes your hair stand on end and your nipples harden. "Won't do anything you don't wanna," he murmurs into your hair as he gently cups your breast from behind. He bends his knees, one hand on your hip, the other still cupping your breast. He presses the hard bulge of his pants into the back of your dress then drags it up your crack. Arousal stirs madly between your thighs, and he knows it. "C'mon, sugar. Lemme make you feel good."

You close your eyes for a moment, then try to compose yourself. "Haven't finished the dishes," you say.

You wonder if you’re being too hard on him. After all, you only had sex once. You never defined your relationship or even went on a date. You were the one who pulled away afterwards, feeling self conscious and introspective. As badly as you wanted to be filled by him again, you wanted him to love you first. So you started declining his advances and he seemed wounded but didn’t press the issue or make you explain. He might've thought he was respecting your space, but meanwhile, you hoped he'd properly court you. Instead, he just started keeping his hands to himself.

It wasn’t long before you found a condom in his trash, and your chest physically ached at the sight. During the time you’ve been cleaning for Joel, you’ve seen women come and go from his house. None since he took your virginity on a rainy day in his living room, but seeing the condom was worse. You didn't confront him about it, but he figured out what was bothering you. He never outright denied it, but at first, he asked why you assumed it was his. He didn’t use one with you. It was in a guest bedroom, not his. The location didn't mean much, considering he'd never once done anything in his bedroom with you.

Once he admitted it, he was apologetic. He said he didn't think you wanted anything with him anymore. He was trying to be true to his word: before you agreed to just the tip that time, he promised if you didn't like it, he'd never ask you again. Since you pulled back afterwards, it seemed like you didn't like it. Sex was a need for him. He couldn't not get off. By having meaningless sex with someone else, he was trying to help himself leave you alone. You believed him that it was meaningless, but it still hurt.

The same week as your talk, two hundred white roses were delivered to his house when you were there. Your heart sank until you saw they were for you. Then your heart slowly, begrudgingly warmed over the next few weeks. Not because of the flowers, but his other little gestures. He helped around the house, encouraged you to take breaks, said he just wanted to spend time with you, get to know you. He ordered takeout, insisted you eat with him, then cleaned up after both of you.

This is much closer to what you want, but you’re still trying not to go down this road again. Not yet, anyway. You no longer bristle at his touch - quite the opposite - but you don't want to be naive.

Arms still wrapped around you, arousal pressed up against your dress, Joel takes the dish towel out of your hand and puts it on the counter. "Do 'em myself later," he murmurs. It's sweet, but you're trying not to fall for his charm. It's too easy to get emotionally invested. He softly presses his open lips into your neck.

“I’d rather finish them now,” you say half-heartedly, and stop short of physically shrugging him off. You don’t want him to stop, not really.

"You're killin' me, baby," he murmurs into your skin as hand slides down your stomach, then between your thighs, and he ghosts your clit over your dress. He grinds his hard package into you and asks, "What do you want me to do with this, hmm?" His hardness makes you purr. "Know you don't want me to stick it in someone else," he mutters.

"I don't know, Joel,” you say, quietly exasperated. Your eyes water.

"Sorry," he says, composing himself. He backs away and leans against the counter. "I’m an asshole. It’s not your problem." He looks borderline embarrassed. You pick the rag up again, and he rolls up his sleeves as he watches you work.

“You’re just so damn sexy,” he says, his voice returning to a hornier pitch as he leans against the counter on his forearm. "You don't mind if I take care of myself, do you?" He lowers his head and devours you with his eyes from under his brows as he rubs his arousal over his charcoal pants.

Your face heats up and your core tingles at what you think is a rhetorical question, but he expects an answer.

"Of course not," you scoff quietly without meeting his eyes. It feels like the only answer.

“Good,” he whispers, then slides back into your space. “Sorry, baby.” He hugs you from the side, and while he’s at it he rolls his hard-on against your hip and kisses your neck. "I was outta line talkin’ like that." He backs off and pours himself a glass of whiskey. Your eyes fall to the ample bulge in his slacks as he walks across the living room to put his drink down on the cigar stand and sit on the chaise.

You try not to watch, but you have to face his direction as you finish the dishes. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Joel spit into his hand then wrap it around his thick cock. His eyes bore holes in you as he slowly strokes himself. You tell yourself to go do another chore, but you can't pry yourself away when he's trying to do right by you. Plus, you’d be remiss not to consider how hot it is watching him jack off. So you continue the dishes, stealing occasional glances. Surely he notices.

"Come show me somethin', sugar," he pleads. "Don’t have to touch ya. . .’less ya want me to." He takes a deep breath as he watches you darkly and pumps his hard cock. Your body’s dizzy with desire. "gotta see that perfect pussy, baby. All I need."

You force your eyes to look right at him and you wet your lips mutely in thought.

“C’mon, sugar. You can have the chair.” He nods across the room, out of his reach. Then he gives you a look that manages to penetrate your wall. Like you’re right back on the chaise with him inside you. Like he knows you intimately. Like you both know this is what’s meant to happen.

You find yourself slowly walking around the kitchen bar to the chair and sitting down. You tell yourself you’re in a position of relative power as long as you’re not physically engaged. You can stand up and walk away at any time. You look at him shyly and watch his eyes scan your body. He looks so hot with his brow furled, perfect cock in his hand.

“Can ya open those pretty legs for me, sugar?”

You uncross them but hesitate to go further.

"Can ya show me, baby?" His voice is weakened by want. "All I need.”

You work up the courage to slowly spread your legs a few inches, but your dress still hangs between them and offers you some modesty. “You don’t gotta wear those stockings here, baby. Shit, wish you wouldn't wear anything under that dress.”

You can’t take your eyes off his cock, and you’re salivating. You slip your shoes off.

“Yeah, go on, get comfortable,” he urges breathily.

With your arousal intensifying enough to take over, you reach under your dress and hook your thumbs into your stockings, then slowly pull them down and off, glancing up at him as you do it. He groans softly. Taking them off is a rush. You feel sexy and relatively safe, like it's a taste of the forbidden fruit without actually doing anything.

“Yeahhhh,” he nods, eyes widening. “Now lemme see somethin’, sugar." He spits in his hand again. “Maybe just those gorgeous tits if you’re feelin’ shy?”

You want to, but you’re frozen. He waits patiently for a few seconds, then senses your nerves and says, “Lemme help ya, baby.”

He stands up with his cock in his hand. “Can I do that?” You nod almost imperceptibly. He strokes himself as he crosses the room. When he gets to your chair, he kneels on the floor. “God, you're beautiful,” he whispers, entranced.

You’re as wet as ever when he asks if he can help with your dress. You nod timidly. He lets his thick cock hang heavily between his legs, over his pants, as he unbuttons your dress and spreads it open to show your bra. He takes in a chest full of air as he admires the view. Then he spits in his hand again and resumes stroking himself as his free hand reaches for your bra.

He starts to slip a finger under a strap, and you begin to protest, “I-”

“It’s okay, sugar, you can keep it if ya want,” he whispers as he removes his finger. “Can I see your panties?” he lightly pinches the hem of your dress and drags his fingers a few inches across the fabric as though examining the material. Your clit is throbbing.

“Yeah,” you whisper. Your knees are still spread from his initial instructions.

“Just relax, baby. It’s okay.”

He lifts your dress and inhales sharply through his nose when he sees the damp spot on your panties. “God damn, sugar. . .So hot, seein’ you wet for me.” He’s drooling, almost literally. The corners of his mouth shine. He gently nudges your knee and you open a little wider.

“Can I see her, baby? Just a little?” He looks up at you, his eyes begging for permission as his hand slowly moves up and down his cock. If he touches you there, you’re a goner. So you reach down yourself and pull your soaked panties to the side. Joel groans at the sight and his eyes look weak. “Just gorgeous.”

He spits in his hand again, then asks, “you know what’s a whole lot better than this?” nodding toward the spit in his hand before massaging it into his stiff, aching shaft. "If you wanna help me out, I mean."

Your cheeks burn at the thought.

“You can say no,” he reassures you. “Or you can lemme get just the tip wet.”

His eyes are so sad and desperate as he strokes himself. By now, you want his cock inside you more than anything. Your reservations are fading away, replaced by excuses for him. The fact that you see your resolve crumbling in real time doesn’t stop it from happening. The look on his face opens something inside you, like your body,'s making room for him. Creating a void only he can fill.

“Okay,” you agree.

“Can I kiss you first?” He asks, which makes your heart flutter.

“Yeah,” you whisper. He kisses you tenderly, then long and deep, licking into your mouth affectionately, then hungrily. Until now, you forgot how special it felt when your mouths were joined. He breaks the kiss and urges you to the edge of the chair. Then he crouches down and leans over you, bracing himself with one hand on the backrest while his other hand remains on his cock. The stretch of his long, strong arm puts his armpit near your head and gives you an arousing whiff of his natural scent and deoderant. You pull your panties more to the side and open your legs wider.

“Good girl,” he whispers.

You inhale his musk as it gets closer then the large tip of his cock nudges your entrance, and desire shoots through you, branching like lightning into every part of your body. Without a view of where your bodies meet, he drags the swollen head of his cock down, then back up, pausing to gently prod your entrance before dragging it up to your clit where you wonder if he can feel you twitch. He returns the tip to your entrance, where he nestles it just inside your folds but doesn’t push in.

He closes his eyes and breathes deeply as he stays there for a moment. He rocks his hips ever so slightly, gently pressing the tip against but not quite inside your warm, wet hole. Your body tries to grab him, but he drags up to your clit one more time, then exhales dramatically as he takes his cock away.

It feels like such a loss. "I want it," you whimper. “I want it all.”

He kneels in front of you on the floor. "I know, baby," he says soft and low, stroking himself with your slick. "But we can't. Don’t want ya to regret it." He’s saving you from yourself, and that only makes you want him more. “Might break my heart if I lose ya this time,” he adds, giving you butterflies.

Your eyes grow watery. You fix your panties, then close your legs.

“Baby," he breathes. "I want it so bad.” His expansive hand squeezes your thigh. “Just want you to feel good about it.” He wets his lips and his breaths become labored as he strokes himself with your slick. His forearm flexes as he pumps himself.

He shudders and sighs loudly as he tips forward and spills a huge, silky load onto the wood floor to the side of your feet.

You move to clean it, but he stops you. He tucks himself away then gets a towel and cleans it up himself. He stays there squatting for a moment, looking at you, then caresses your cheek.

You sit there, face burning, clit throbbing for attention. “Thank you,” you tell him.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he whispers gently. "You're doin' great, baby." He doesn’t make any move to pleasure you, but to be fair, you’re the one who closed your legs.

“Listen,” he says, closer to his normal talking volume. “I’ve gotta go out of town for about a week. When I get back, how ‘bout we do somethin'?” He watches your face expectantly.

Your face lights up and his eyes smile in response.

“Yeah,” you say. “I’d like that.”

“And why don’t you stay here while I’m gone?”

You hesitate.

“If you want a break from your roommates, I mean. You can sleep wherever ya want.”

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I have a vision for one more 👀. As always, thank you so much for your support and engagement 🖤🖤

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