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winchesterwild78 · 3 days ago

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Daddy’s Girl pt 1

Master List

Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader (wife), Dean and Reader’s daughter, other characters from Supernatural

Warnings: None yet, just some fluff. Talks of monsters and nightmares

A/N: Another collab story with @cheekygirl2309. This one is about Dean and his wife and how Dean is a total girl dad. The reader and Dean are married and their daughter is 4.

This is a work of fiction and does not follow the Supernatural storyline. I do not own the rights to the characters used.

All work is my own and @cheekygirl2309, don’t take it or use it as your own. Reblogs and likes are appreciated.

Minors DNI 18+

“Delilah Rose, get in here and pick up this mess.” I stood in the Dean cave and saw her dolls all over the floor. My four year old came bounding in and looked up at me with her father’s green eyes and gave me the best puppy dog eyes she could muster. “I see Uncle Sammy is teaching you puppy dog eyes.”

I heard a deep chuckle behind me and felt my husband’s arms wrap around my waist. “Or was it you, Dean Winchester? Teaching our toddler how to get out of trouble?”

He laughed, “Nope, because my little pumpkin pie could never be in trouble.” I rolled my eyes, “Well your little pumpkin pie has been told five times to clean up her mess and she still hasn’t done it.”

Dean spun me around to face him, “We were still playing.” He chuckled and kissed my lips. “Sure you were. Any excuse to keep her out of trouble. You two are insufferable.” “Yeah, but you love us.” I playfully rolled my eyes, “I guess I do. You're lucky you’re cute, Winchester.”

He pulled me close and kissed my lips. Delilah was watching from the floor and giggled. “Daddy, can we play now?” He pulled away and smirked, “Duty calls.”

Dean let go of me and got on the floor with Delilah. I loved watching them together. From the moment he found out I was pregnant he was over the moon. When we found out we were having a girl his whole demeanor shifted.

I thought he was protective of me or Sammy, but nothing prepared me for the level of protection for Delilah. I still remember late night conversations with him about her future.

“She will never hunt and I’m cutting back on it. I refuse to have her grow up the way Sammy and I did. She will learn to protect herself, but I won’t let her live her life in fear. Oh, and no boys until she’s thirty, and they will be put through all the tests; holy water, silver, borax, background checks.”

I just laughed. She wasn’t born yet and he was already so protective of her.

When she was born it was a chilly day in late November. She was born a few days before Thanksgiving and Dean nicknamed her “pumpkin pie” because of it. He even bought her a onesie that had a slice of pumpkin pie on it and it said, “Sweet as (picture of the pie)”.

The nurses took turns holding her. Delilah had everyone, especially Dean wrapped around her finger from the moment she was born.

When we came home from the hospital my recovery was hard. There were some complications with me during birth, so the doctor told us to expect some difficulties after.

The first few nights home I cried every time Delilah cried. Dean was by my side, taking care of her and me. As I healed, Dean insisted on doing the late night feedings and changes. “It will help us bond better. Please, baby let me do this. You can rest.” He kissed my lips and shooed me to bed.

I would sneak out and watch him from the doorway of the nursery. Dean would feed her, change her and sing her to sleep while he rocked her.

I loved watching him with her. Dean Winchester was born to be a father, especially to a little girl.

Now here we were four years later and Delilah, or “pumpkin pie” as Dean called her, was growing into a spunky child.

“Daddy, play dress up with me. Please.” Her big green eyes fluttered and her lip poked out. I chuckled and rolled my eyes. “You two have fun, I’m going to make some lunch for us. Any requests?”

Dean and Delilah looked at each other and then at me with big grins, “Grilled cheese and tomato soup.” “Of course, why did I even ask?” I chuckled as I left the room.

The halls of the bunker filled with laughter coming from Delilah’s room. “Daddy, now I have to paint your nails.” “Pumpkin I don’t want my nails painted. Maybe you can paint mommy’s or Uncle Sammy’s.” “Noooo daddy, I want to paint yours so we can match.”

I laughed because I knew when I saw them he would have painted nails. I poured the soup in bowls and cut their grilled cheeses. Four little triangles with apple slices in the middle of the plate. Just the way they both like it.

“Lunch is ready for you two. Wash up and come on.” I called from the kitchen.

I heard giggles coming down the hallway and a few minutes later Dean and Delilah came into the kitchen. When I turned around I laughed loudly. Dean’s hair was full of bows and barrettes and his nails were painted.

He cut his eyes at me as I stifled the giggle. “Mommy isn’t daddy pretty?” “Yes he is baby girl, you did a great job.” “See daddy, I told you that you were pretty.”

I walked over to Dean and kissed his lips softly, “Daddy is very pretty.” He smirked, “She better be glad she’s cute.” I placed my hands on his chest, “She has you wrapped so tight around her finger she could shave your head and you’d love it.” He smirked because he knew I was right.

Dean Winchester, badass hunter, stopped the apocalypse, got rid of demons, vampires, and God himself, but would crumble and bend to the will of his four year old daughter.

The three of us sat at the table to eat lunch. Dean and Delilah sat across from each other and I sat beside Delilah. I stood up to grab napkins and when I turned around I saw Dean making silly faces and Delilah giggling. She started making them back and he laughed. “Dean Winchester! Teaching her how to make faces like that. You’re going to get her in trouble when she starts school.”

Delilah and Dean both laughed, but I noticed his jaw clench a little when I mentioned school. I knew he wasn’t looking forward to her going to school. He was scared and nervous about her being away from him. He has been by her side since the day she was born, never being apart from her.

After lunch it was time for Delilah to take a nap. Dean cleaned her up and carried her to bed.

“But daddy, I don’t want to take a nap. I want to stay with you and mommy.” “Sweetheart, you need to take a nap. Mommy and daddy will be here when you wake up. Want me to sing to you?”

Delilah climbed in Dean’s lap and nodded. Dean began singing a Metallica song to her, but in a softer tone. I loved hearing him sing songs to her and changing their tune to fit the situation. Before too long she was fast asleep. Soft snores coming from her slightly parted lips.

Dean laid her down, kissed her forehead, and left her room, closing her door slightly. I was in the kitchen cleaning up from lunch when he came back in.

He snaked his arms around my waist and kissed my neck, “She’s fast asleep. Nothing a little Metallica couldn’t fix.” I chuckled. After drying my hands I turned to face him. He pulled me close to him and kissed my lips softly. “Dean, honey, why did you get upset when I mentioned school? You know she has to start school next year.”

Dean let out a deep sigh, “I know. I just don’t like the idea of her being away from us. We both know what’s out there and I have to protect her. That’s my number one job and I refuse to let her down.”

I looked at Dean and smiled, I placed my hands on his chest, “Dean, you will never let that little girl down. You are her world and I know you would literally go to hell for the people you love so I can’t imagine what you would do for her. If you think we can do it, let’s look into homeschooling her. We can tag team it between work.”

Dean’s eyes went wide and he smiled, “Really? You would consider that?” I nodded yes, “Dean I would do whatever I could to keep you both safe and happy. If that means we homeschool our little girl, then we homeschool our little girl. Uncle Sammy is smart enough he can help us too. Besides, I don’t want to get a phone call from the school telling me you’re standing outside armed to the teeth on ‘protection duty’.”

Dean laughed, “You really think I’d stand outside the school every day with weapons?” I laughed, “Dean, baby, I don’t think it, I know it.”

We walked into the Dean cave and sat on the couch. Dean grabbed a blanket and draped it over the two of us. He pulled me closer to him and I snuggled to his side.

“It’s been awhile since we’ve just relaxed here. This is nice. Being in your arms, snuggled together, just the two of us.” Dean looked down at me and lifted my chin up and placed a soft kiss on my lips.

“Yeah, I miss my other girl. It’s been too long since we’ve just relaxed together.” “Yeah, you usually have a tiny human crawling in your lap. I love being in your arms, Dean, and as much as I love you, these bows and barrettes have to go.” I laughed as I started to take his hair down.

He pulled me on his lap and I giggled. I kissed his lips, “You’re an amazing daddy, you know that? Not many men would let their daughter put bows in their hair or paint their nails. We are so lucky to have you.”

I kissed him again. This time his hands pulled me closer and held tightly on my hips. I moaned into his mouth.

I felt him smirk, “What do you say about us taking a nap too?” He winked as he asked me.

“I think we won’t be doing a lot of sleeping, Mr Winchester.” “Is that a no, Mrs Winchester?”

“Oh absolutely not, let’s go.” I stood up and took his hands pulling him off the couch.

We walked into our room and Dean closed the door softly, locking it. I smirked. His lips were on mine again as he pulled me flush to his chest. His hands tangled in my hair, deepening the kiss.

“I’ve missed you, Dean, missed this.” “Me too sweetheart, it’s been too long.”

I smirked, “Dean, it’s only been two days.” He chuckled, “I know, but I miss my wife.” His hand slipped down and under the hem of my shirt. His calloused fingertips brushing my skin lightly and leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Dean walked us back to the bed and laid me down. He hovered over me, kissing me from my lips, down my neck and to my collarbone. Pulling a moan from my lips.

Dean pulled his shirt off over his head, and I leaned up letting him take off mine too. As he unhooked my bra I thought I heard something so I froze.

“What is it baby?” “I think I heard Delilah.” We stopped and listened carefully.

Sure enough we heard her whimpers and cries from her room. Dean grabbed his shirt and headed towards her room. I put my clothes back on and followed.

When I got to her door, Dean had her in his arms drying her tears.

“Daddy the monster got me and took me away from you and mommy.” Her green eyes were full of tears that spilled over onto her little pink cheeks.

Dean held her to his chest and rubbed her back, “Shhh, baby. I promise you nothing will ever hurt you or take you away from Mommy and me. I will always keep you safe. Mommy and Uncle Sammy will always keep you safe too. Remember Uncle Cas and Uncle Jack are always watching over you. They have since before you were born.”

I smiled thinking about the day Cas and Jack came to visit us and told me I was pregnant.

*Flashback*

“Dean, I’m not feeling well. I think you and Sammy should go without me this time. You said it yourself, it’s a simple salt and burn.” Dean stepped closer to me and kissed my lips, “If you’re sure. I’ll be back before you know it.” I nodded.

“Dean, Y/N. How are you?” We both jumped, “Jesus Cas. You scared the heck out of me.” Dean laughed, “Yeah Cas, what if we were having sex?” I playfully slapped his arm, “Dean!”

Cas looked at Dean and then at me, “I knew you weren't. I always listen in before we come in.” I looked at Dean and he looked at me, “That’s kind of creepy, Cas.” He shrugged. Jack appeared next, “Hello.” He smiled.

“Hey Jack, how are you?” “I am well, Y/N. How are you?”

“Oh, I’m okay. Just feeling a little sick. Probably caught a little cold.”

Jack stepped closer to me, “No, you have a baby in your stomach.” My eyes went wide and I looked at Dean. Dean’s jaw hit the floor. “Wait, what?”

Jack stepped even closer, “Yes, a baby. It’s going to be a girl. She’s going to look like Y/N, but have Dean’s green eyes.”

I gasped and touched my belly. Cas looked at Dean and I. Dean looked over at Cas, “Is he telling the truth? Is Y/N pregnant?” Cas shook his head yes.

Dean pulled me into his arms and kissed my lips, “We’re having a baby?” Tears filled our eyes and I nodded, “I guess so.” He kissed me again, “I love you so much, Y/N.” “I love you too, Dean.”

*End of Flashback*

Dean held Delilah in his arms until she fell back to sleep. Her tiny hands gripped his shirt and wouldn’t let go. I smiled as he laid her down and he laid beside her.

I walked over and kissed him and then her. “I told you, best daddy ever.” He smiled, “I try.” He grabbed my hand as I started to leave the room. I turned and looked at him, “What’s wrong Dean?”

“Nothing, I just want you to know I fully intend on finishing what I started.” I bent down, kissed his lips and said, “I’m counting on it.”

He chuckled softly, “Good.” I turned on my heels and walked out the door.

I busied myself with cleaning, organizing and reading while Dean and Delilah took a nap.

I had walked to her door a few times to check on them and the last time I saw Dean laying on his back, one arm under his head and the other holding Delilah close to him. She was laying in his arms with her arm and a leg flung over him. Both of their mouths were slightly parted and soft snores filled the room. Delilah was definitely a carbon copy of Dean, and I loved every second of it.

About an hour later I was sitting in the library reading when I heard Dean and Delilah talking. Dean walked out of her room covered in sweat. It puzzled me because it wasn’t that hot in her room.

“Dean, is everything okay?” He nodded and went into the kitchen. I wasn’t sure what was going on, but I had a gut feeling something was wrong.

I got up and walked in the kitchen. I saw Dean standing at the sink, his back to me, and his t-shirt was soaked.

I walked over to him and touched his arm and he jumped. “Whoa, I’m sorry. It’s just me. Dean, are you sure you’re okay? You’re soaked and jumpy.”

He moved slightly away from me. My brows furrowed. “Yeah, I’m fine. Guess I got hot in pumpkin’s room.”

I wasn’t convinced. Dean grabbed his water and left the room, heading towards our bedroom.

I hesitated, not sure if I should follow him or not. I ultimately decided to follow him. I’ve known him for years and I know he keeps things to himself. It’s really one of the only things we argue about.

I walked into our bedroom and found him sitting at the desk, writing. Standing at the door I watched him for a few minutes. Dean was focused on writing and I noticed he had tears falling down his face. A few falling and landing on the paper.

I gasped softly and walked over to him putting my arms around his neck. “Dean, baby. Please talk to me. You can’t keep whatever this is inside. I’m your wife, your partner. The one person you’re supposed to share your burdens, your fears, your love with. Please let me help you. Please.” Tears filled my eyes as I pleaded with him. I hated seeing him like this.

All those years of being mom and dad to Sam, being so brave and stoic for his father taught him how to push his emotions down and not show his vulnerable side. Since we got married and even more so after Delilah was born, Dean is learning how to embrace and show his emotions.

He sometimes needs to be reminded that I’m there to help him.

I felt his hands on my arms and his body shaking as he cried. One hand slipping down and picking up the picture he took of Delilah and I at the park.

My heart was breaking as his whole body shook. “Dean, honey, please talk to me. Whatever it is we will figure it out. I promise.”

Dean sat the picture down and stood up. He turned and faced me and pulled me in his arms.

“I just don’t want to lose you or Delilah. I couldn’t survive that. You two are my world and I can’t lose you too.” I placed my hands on his chest, “Hey, look at me. You’re not going to lose either of us. You’re stuck with us Dean. Forever. Remember what we said when we got married? It’s you and me until the last star falls. I meant it, Dean. Now where is this coming from?”

He took in a deep shaky breath and let it out, “Just a bad dream. You and pumpkin were gone and I couldn’t find you or get to you. The two of you just vanished.”

I wrapped my arms around him tightly, “Well I’m right here, and she’s in there playing. We aren’t going anywhere. Remember what you told her, we’ve got Cas and Jack looking out for us. Not to mention a dad who would go to hell and back for us. We are two very lucky girls.”

He nodded, kissed my lips and let out a little bit more of the breath he was holding.

“You’re right, baby. I’m sorry.” “Hey, no. Don’t be sorry. You’re entitled to your feelings and fears. That’s what makes you human. I love you, Dean.” “I love you too, Y/N.”

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#hes gorgeous #so damn sexy #jensen ackles #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester x plus size!reader

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holylulusworld · 2 days ago

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How to cure a grump (6)

Summary: You’re losing your job on Christmas.

Pairing: CEO/Boss!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: grumpy Bucky, mistaken identity, kinda fake dating trope, snowed-in trope, mom plays matchmaker, needy/cuddly bucky

How to cure a grump (5)

How to cure a grump masterlist

Bucky’s hands didn’t wander, but he did. You wake to him snuggled in your back, playing the big spoon. His face is in your neck, and his arms are wrapped tightly around your body.

“You’ve got to be shitting me, Barnes,” you huff loudly, frustrated. He nuzzles your neck and whispers pet names you never wanted to hear leave his lips. “Let go of me. I’m not one of your one-nighters.”

Bucky mutters in his sleep before moving impossibly closer to press himself against you. “Doll,” he whispers lowly. “Hmm…so soft.”

“BARNES!”

He stiffens behind you but doesn’t move. “HUH?” Bucky clears his throat and slowly releases you. He moves to the edge of the bed, grumbling under his breath.

“That is enough! I let you sleep the alcohol off, but you had to get handsy. This is not some rom-com movie. You’re still the asshole firing me before Christmas. Now get out of my bed.”

“You’re loud and grumpy in the morning,” he snickers but hisses soon after. “My head hurts, and I’m still stuck here. The only person I call family ignores me on Christmas, and you’re not nice.”

“You’re a whiny man-child when hungover,” you bite back as you slowly sit up. “What do I have to do to get rid of you?”

Bucky looks over his shoulder, giving you puppy dog eyes. He doesn’t say a word when he slowly gets up to leave your room.

You huff. Now you feel bad—but why? He’s the villain in this story, not you. Bucky fired you, hijacked your Christmas vacation, and cuddled you. How dare he act like the victim!

“Morning, James,” your mother coos while offering coffee to your unwelcome guest. You only shake your head as they easily fall into a conversation. How Bucky enchants people around him will be forever a mystery to you. “What do you want?”

“He’s hungover,” you grumble and claim your favorite seat at the kitchen counter. “Mr. Barnes wanted to have a drink last night and fell into the bottle.”

“James, that’s no reason to be ashamed,” your mother softly says. She pats his hands and offers a warm smile. “Holidays can be hard without your family. I know how you feel.”

Sighing deeply, you try to ignore the ball of fury growing inside of you. Bucky wormed his way into your mother’s heart, and you don’t know how to tell her she won’t see him again after this Christmas.

“Munchkin, stop making that face,” your mother tuts. “I know it’s not nice if your man gets drunk, but he had a moment of weakness last night.”

“A moment of weakness. Right,” you sniff and look at the cup of tea your mother offers to you. “We all have these moments.” Before you can say something wrong, you take a sip of your tea. “Let’s hope there will be no more of these moments.”

“But you liked it, cuddle bug,” Bucky dares to step behind you to wrap his arms around you. You have to admit, he plays his role well. “I get all needy when drunk, and you love to take care of me.”

“You two,” your mother sniffles. “Oh my, you are like my Y/F/N and me when we first met. You’re too sweet to handle.”

“Mom.” You make a face. Bucky still hasn’t let go of you, and your mother is all too happy to see him with you. “What are your plans for today?”

“It’s time to unpack the gifts,” she smiles, and you can’t help but smile back. She’s so happy having you and Bucky at home. You don’t have the heart to disappoint her by revealing the truth. “But first—” she smirks, we will eat our breakfast.”

“Mom, that’s too much,” you sniffle as you look at the thoughtful gift. “I told you to not waste so much money on me.”

“I know you wanted the (the gift you wanted) for years. Because you didn’t buy it for yourself, I got it for you.”

Bucky watches you hug each other. Your mother whispers something in your ear, and you choke on unshed tears. He assumes it must have something to do with your father.

It takes a few moments before you can part. You wipe your eyes and kiss your mother’s cheek. “I love you, Mom.”

“Love you too, munchkin,” your mother sniffles and points at the gifts under the tree. “Oh, I got something for you too, James. I don’t know you well, but I hope you’ll like it.”

“Mrs. Y/L/N, you shouldn’t have—” Bucky swallows thickly when you grab a gift and push it into his arms. You glare at him, silently telling him to not hurt your mother. “That’s very kind of you.”

“You’re my munchkin’s special one,” your mother replies with a wink. “It’s my pleasure to get you a gift.”

Bucky nods as you tell him to open the gift. He rips it open, laughing as a scarf, a pair of warm socks, and hand gloves fall out of the wrapping paper.

“You’re stuck here for a while, and I thought you’d need it.” Bucky picks up his gifts. He smiles because someone he barely knows made him a thoughtful gift.

“Thank you, these are great,” his voice sounds odd when you look at him. “I got nothing for you. I-I…” He stammers and nervously looks at you. “I came here unprepared and got nothing for you.”

“Jamie, that’s alright,” Bucky gasps when your mother wraps him in a hug. He’s not used to people being kind to him. “You’re part of the family now. That’s the best gift.”

He looks at you for help, furrowing his brows as your mother pats his back.

“We are huggers in this family,” you awkwardly reply as Bucky hugs your mother back. “You should get used to it.”

“Oh, I got an idea!” Your mother suddenly says. She smirks while looking at you. “While I take care of dinner, you and Y/N can go to town. Y/N loves ice skating.”

“MOM!” You groan. “Please. I don’t think Bucky wants to go figure skating with me. It’s cold, and he’s not very…”

“I’d love to,” Bucky hastily says. “Figure skating is great.” He grins, and you swear, he looks like a handsome devil when he says, “Especially with my lovely Y/N.”

You are fuming once again. Bucky played you well, but you will pay him back. He won’t smile any longer if he landed on his ass on the ice for the first time…

#How to cure a grump (6)#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #x reader #business au #ceo!bucky barnes

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stickyspeckledlight · 1 day ago

Note

“Indeed, dear mister Stoneheart! My wonderworking will take effect in a few days, and your good luck streak will end! That’ll be 100 000 credits :)”

For da gambler man

Snake oil? Only if you don’t look at it the right way.

(Speckled's End of Year Interaction Prompts, 12/2/24 ~ 1/1/25)

The Stoneheart’s smirk grows, a quirk just at the corner of his lips. It teeters on a careful precipice of amusement and threat, of control and chance. It’s nothing new to you, though. Smug confidence isn’t new to you, but it’s the first time you’ve seen it on someone dressed in such finery.

“That’s a first,” he purrs, resting his cheek in his palm. “In all my time, I’ve never had anyone offer me bad luck. Curses, yes—but not a…blessing.” He comfortably leers at you through his sunglasses, lazily tracing the rim of a cloudy, cracked glass filled with something closer to piss than whiskey.

“The only difference between a curse and a blessing is intent,” you wink, “And with what you told me, Mr. Stoneheart, that luck of yours IS a curse! I mean, what kind of luck is winning a lifetime supply of toothpicks? That luckiness of yours is no good!”

His grin widens, “Indeed. Why, before I say anything else, I must commend you for your generosity!” He lightly claps, putting on all the theatrics you’ve come to expect, “100,000 credits in exchange for curing me? Why, I can’t fathom a deal better than this…”

“Right you are, Mr. Stoneheart!” You snap of your fingers, calloused and rough, almost alien in how bony it is these days. “But careful: my power is a…finicky thing, so we can only do this NOW!”

“Oh?” Suddenly his smile grows sharper, “That’s new.”

“I can’t reveal all my tricks,” you smoothly reply. You catch yourself tapping your foot hurriedly against the pavement and stop. You shouldn’t think about what you can do with that money; you can simply do with the money, after this rich sucker forks over his cash. Luck, as a curse? Who is he kidding? Why would he throw that away, when you and everyone else you know would kill for it?

“Shame.” He says with completely insincerity. He stands and pushes his chair back, “I was hoping you’d find a creative way to explain your con. I was looking forward to what you’d come up with so much, y’know?”

You lock up and stiffen. This rich playboy was acting stupid before! Why’s he suddenly calling you out?! “H-huh? A con? Mr. Stoneheart, you must be—”

“Don’t.” He smiles, “You know, I did introduce myself as ‘Aventurine, of the Ten Stonehearts: a cog in the machine of the Strategic Investment Department.’ Do you actually know who I am?”

“An IPC executive,” you hastily reply; you can’t get on his bad side, you CAN’T.

But he only continues to look at you, looking above you with a foxlike expression.

“That’s correct, but dig a bit deeper,” he peppily nudges. “You’re a smart one; I’m sure you can do it!”

“Uh…” you frown, “You…you make investments?”

“That’s something everyone does.” He shakes his head, “So: no. How about I give you my formal title? I’m a Non-performing Asset Liquidation Specialist.”

…You do not understand whatever that corporate mumbo jumbo means.

Well, phooey. You’re fucked, man. Your con is bust. If anything, this guy had all the cards before you even saw his face.

“Oh, Mr. Stoneheart…” you smile again, standing to meet his eyes, “You it said yourself: we’re friends,” his grin does not fall, but his eyes crinkle with cheshire glee, “So, let’s not bei business into this. And that applies to me too! I should’ve known better; this blessing’s on the house, friend.”

He does not say anything, letting your words hang in the air, and stress gather in your chest before he finally speaks.

“Slow recovery, but it’s not half bad. Especially for someone who hasn’t been in business long. You’ve got some potential,” he whistles. You must’ve had a ridiculous expression on your face, because he just laughs. Mirth dances in his eyes, tinted pink by his sunglasses. “Oh, my bad; I’ll play along just for you, my jewel.”

You’re not given any time to react to the sudden new nickname. “Yes, I can’t believe how astute you truly are, my friend,” he sighs wistfully, clutching his heart and smiling like you two are really, really, really good friends. The whiplash hits you with a crack, and now, you aren’t sure if you’ve ever seen him without a mask. “Still, I would feel bad about just getting a blessing from you for free, so…how do you feel about becoming my employee?”

An employee? What? You were trying to CON him, and now he wants to hire you?!

“W-what?”

“That’s right,” he bows, “I meant what I said, my friend. You’re a diamond in the rough, and it’s my job to polish you up—we at the Strategic Investment Department prioritize long term over short term, you know.”

“But I—” tried to con you, you almost stammer before catching yourself, “—have, uh…”

Well, you never liked him even when he was playing the part of a rich fool, but seeing how that in of itself might’ve just been a mask…you don’t want to be near this guy, period. And now that you think about it, you’ve never seen his eyes.

He makes a zipping motion with his fingers and across his mouth, “My friend,” he kindly winks, “Don’t bother objecting! Tell me: what are two things you now know about my job?”

…All of the whiplash and sudden questions seemingly unrelated to anything said…you think you’re going to get a headache, once your mind is clear from panic and stress.

“Um…you’re a liquidation specialist and…go for long term investments.”

“Perfect; 10/10!” He claps, “Now let’s dig even deeper—dig into you, [Name].”

Time stops.

“[Name]?” You scoff, mouth twitching, “Mr. Stoneheart…are you projecting onto me?”

“Don’t lie, my jewel,” the nickname makes you bristle, and he sighs, “Now’s the time to drop the platitudes and acts. There’s always a time for veiled conversations, but ah, I think there’s no need for that, now.”

For some reason, even though your cowardice has already been shown, now’s the time you decide to keep up the cheery salesman act. In the back of your mind, you shake your head. How could you immediately prove what he just said?

But that’s just the back of your mind.

“Oh, Mr. Stoneheart! Why would I ever lie to you? We’re friends.”

“Indecisive, are you?” He hums, “That’s alright. That’s perfectly fine. Indecisiveness doesn’t erase debt either way.”

“D-debt? Oh, but Mr. Stoneheart—!”

“You can’t erase what your stupid father did.” He plainly states, taking a coin out and playing with it, “Mx. [Name], my condolences for what happened to you; falling into poverty like this wasn’t your fault, but…fault also doesn’t erase debt.”

This time, you’re shaking. You can’t do anything but watch. He was just supposed to be a rich, stupid fool to wring money out of—who—how—how did things go this way—

“Here’s what I was thinking. Work for me, and you’ll be able to pay off your debt without worry. You’ll be provided a reduced salary, of course, but you’ll have enough to…” his mouth quirks, “…get by.”

He saunters around the table, and leans against it lazily. He leans closer, “You understand that there’s no other choice, right?” At your continued, fearful silence, he chuckles, “Don’t worry, Mx. [Name]. I’m the one hiring you; you know I’ll treat you well! Like you said, we’re friends. Good friends, even.”

You hear the sound of a coin flick; you move your head to see it fall onto the table, covered by the Stoneheart’s hand.

A leather clad finger hooks under your chin and drags your gaze to his, “But I’ve got another idea,” he offers, “Gemstones are made to be cut, sold, and coveted. You’re no different…but you’re still rough. You’ve barely been lodged out of the cave walls. So, I have a proposal…just for a beauty like you,” he winks playfully, but it does nothing to alleviate the sheer intimidation and power he’s exerted on you.

The hand on the table slides off, hovering by your wrist.

“Follow through on that bad luck of yours,” he gently leers. Something cold and sleek and heavy slips to your grip, “If you do…100,000 credits? No; that’s wouldn’t be enough to convey my generosity. I’m going all-in. A carefree life would be yours in an instant. But if you don’t…”

The revolver’s holster clicks against his chest.

“I’ll be free to shape you however I like; and covet you with these lucky hands.”

#speckled end of year interaction prompts #yandere aventurine #yandere aventurine x reader #yandere aventurine hsr #yandere aventurine Honkai star rail #yandere Honkai star rail #Yandere hsr #yandere hsr x reader #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x you #this is a bit shit I’m tired so maybe I’ll revisit it to make it better lol

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buck-star · 8 hours ago

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for the stucky bingo!! “showering together”

either smutty or angsty! if you go angsty I’m always a sucker for the whole “just got bucky back” civil war era trope.

maybe steve helps bucky shower for the first time since getting him back! he prob didn’t have running water in bucharest so is a lil grimey but def doesn’t really have any positive associations with showers or bathing so he’s on EDGE the entire time but steve just mama birds him.

or alternatively bucky mama birds steve! maybe he gets sick somehow and bucky is full blown 1940’s “stfu and let me take care of you mode” and drags him into the shower

sorry for the rambling bye

Shower and comfort

Steve helps Bucky not just with a shower but also to calm his anxiety during the shower.

Pairing: Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Boyfriend!Steve Rogers

Wordcount: 2.330 Words

Warnings/Tags: anxiety, Bucky with ptsd, crying, comfort, established relationship, petnames [baby], kisses, nudity (none sexual), fluff

Authors Note: Thank you for the request. It really sparked the muse to write, hope you like it. Divider made by me.

Masterlist | Stucky Masterlist

The warmth of the hot steam of the steady shower spray fills the room, mixed with the sound of the water dripping down onto the cool shower tiles to warm them up.

“Stevie, I don’t think… I don’t need a shower,” Bucky stutters, hugging himself tightly while he sits on the closed toilet where Steve placed him a few minutes ago. “I—I can just… I will just use a bit of soap and a sponge to wash me.”

Steve shakes his head; he hates to see Bucky so afraid and unsure. But as much as he loves his boyfriend, he can’t ignore that Bucky’s looking like he hasn’t had a shower in years — he probably hasn’t.

Bucky’s brown hair is stuck together, dirty, and causing pain already when Bucky tries to comb it. More often than not, Bucky scratches his dry skin until it’s a wound that has to be fixed by Steve, or else it would inflame itself.

“Buck, I know you don’t like it, but your hair is so dirty; we can’t fix it with just a bit of soap and a short wash,” Steve tries, but his boyfriend shakes his head, refusing to undress himself for the shower.

“But I don’t want to,” Bucky whines. As cute as it might sound, Steve notices the deep fear that’s in the tone of Bucky’s rough voice. His ocean blue eyes are pleading to let him get away with just a short cleaning. Steve would agree to it, and Bucky would agree to having a shower a week, but he hadn’t had one in months, maybe even years.

“When was the last time you really cleaned yourself? A full-body cleaning?” Steve asks, his voice remaining soft and understanding. He would never say that Bucky’s disgusting for having such a lack of self-cleaning, but he wants his boyfriend to feel better, and showers are supposed to feel better. Once you’re clean and pretty, you mostly feel not just fresh but also better.

“I don’t know… But I… I can clean my whole body without having to step inside there,” Bucky tries to argue. He only earns a soft shake of the other man’s head with a smile on the plump lips of his boyfriend. “Stevie, please. I will wash my body. But I don’t want to go into the shower.”

“How do you want to clean yourself then, baby?” Steve knows how Bucky would do it; he would undress and use some soap on either his hands or a sponge to rush it over his skin and use a bit of water to wash it away. The amount of water Bucky uses to clean himself fits in a small glass. And then he would dry himself with a towel before dressing himself again.

“Stevie…” Bucky mumbles, hugging himself even closer. The brunette shakes his head, whimpering quietly. “Please…”

“How about we undress you?” Steve suggests turning the shower off. Bucky immediately relaxes and nods. He lets his hands fall to his sides, and Steve uses the opportunity to help Bucky out of his sweat and dirt-covered Henley.

Bucky then gets off the toilet, looking down at Steve on his knees while he pushes down Bucky’s sweatpants and gets up to take a step backwards.

“Take off your boxers and I will get you a clean towel and a sponge,” Steve says, kissing Bucky’s forehead before he leaves the bathroom. Bucky does as he’s told, pushing down the thin fabric of his boxer briefs and stepping out of it. He then sits back down on the toilet, waiting for his boyfriend to come back into the bathroom.

Steve walks back into the bathroom, a towel thrown over his shoulder, new boxer briefs, a Henley, and sweatpants, as well as a sponge in his hands. He watches when Bucky pulls his legs against his chest and wraps his arms tightly around them. The usual broad and big man looks small and fragile when he sits there like that.

“Sit down in the shower for me; the tiles should be warm,” Steve says as he puts the clothes down on a counter. Bucky watches him with widened eyes, shaking his head. “Please, Buck. Sit down in the shower for me; I don’t want to drag you in there.”

“Stevie, you wouldn’t. Please, you don’t want to drag me in there,” Bucky whimpers, pulling his legs even closer against his broad chest. “I’m strong—“

Steve sighs, wrapping one arm around Bucky’s back, and the other slides underneath his legs, lifting his boyfriend up. Bucky whines, wrapping his arms tightly around his boyfriend's neck while he lets Steve carry him to sit on the floor in the shower.

“Stevie, you’re mean… I’m not gonna shower in here,” Bucky mumbles and tries to get out of the shower, but Steve blocks the way and gets on his knees to push Bucky back into a sitting position.

“Please, I know you’re scared, but please let me wash you. Let me undress; I will join you, and I will wash you. We can keep the door slightly open if it helps; the water isn’t gonna hurt you. And I’m not gonna hurt you, either,” Steve mumbles, running his fingers over Bucky’s cheekbones to his jaw to tilt his head slightly. “I will make you all the hot chocolate your heart desires, and we can watch all the movies you want with all the food you want to order, which can be fast food or whatever you want. But first we shower.”

Bucky’s eyes fill with tears, and he curls himself together as small as he can while Steve sighs and gets out of the shower to undress himself. Bucky muffled his quiet sobs with his arms, moving into the corner of the shower to press his back against the cool tiles of the shower.

When Steve turns back, his heart aches, and he quickly gets into the shower as well, crouching down and closing the door behind him. He reaches his hand out to pull Bucky closer and turns him in his arms so Bucky’s back is tightly pressed against Steve’s broad shoulder.

Steve runs his fingers softly up and down Bucky’s sides and over his thighs, trying to soothe him. “Buck, baby, take a deep breath for me, please.”

Bucky tries to take a deep breath, but another sob wracks through his body. The brunette is trembling; his fingers dig into his thighs while he leans against his boyfriend, his head against Steve’s shoulder.

He whimpers quietly. “Out of the shower, Stevie, please,” he whispers, more tears rolling down his cheeks. Steve keeps storming up and down Bucky’s soft skin, slowly taking both of his boyfriend's hands to keep him from digging his fingers into your thighs to cause bruises. “Stevie, please.”

“Take a deep breath, Buck. Deep breath, hold it, and slowly exhale,” Steve mumbles, his heart squeezing with Bucky’s pleading tone and begging. “You can test the water if it’s too hot or cold, and I will be as soft as I can.”

Bucky shakes his head. His fingers curl around Steve’s hands, grounding himself. “Please,” he begs, trembling and crying softly, but he does as Steve asked him and takes a few deep breaths and watches Steve take the showerhead. The blond-haired man turns on the water.

“So, hold your hand underneath, Buck,” he says softly. He wants to take off the shower and not shower with his boyfriend, but he knows he has to. When Bucky reaches his shaky hand out and lets the soft spray of the water fall on his hand, he flinches but nods. “Good, then I will start with your hair, and after that you can wash the rest while I clean your hair.”

“But… Stevie…” Bucky whispers, turning his head slightly to look at his boyfriend. His eyes are red and teary. “Be careful, please; I-it hurts when I comb through my hair.”

“Of course, I will not hurt you, Buck,” Steve explains before he brings the head of the shower to Bucky’s head. He uses one hand to lean the brunette's head back, letting the water dribble down on his messy hair. “You can relax; it’s just you and me in the shower, Buck.”

They both sit there in silence for a moment; Steve wets Bucky’s hair. His fingers combing as carefully as possible through them while Bucky sits there all tensed and still softly crying. When his hair is wet enough, Steve holds the shower head in front of Bucky to take it, and he does, letting the warm water flow down on his legs to keep him warm.

“If you don’t want to have the water on, let me know, and if anything is uncomfortable, you tell me,” Steve says, using some of the shampoo Bucky loves so much to put into his hands. He rubs them together for a bit before he brings them down on top of Bucky’s head and rubs the shampoo in the brown hair.

Bucky stays still; he keeps the showerhead over his legs and sometimes slips his head underneath to collect some water before he lifts his hand and lets it run down his chest.

Steve washes his boyfriend's hair softly, massaging Bucky’s scalp and neck while he rubs the shampoo in his brown locks. “Can you give me the shower head for a moment? Your hair is pretty stuck together; guess we need to wash it out and put a bit more shampoo in it.”

The brunette holds the shower head out for Steve to take. He’s still tense, his body still trembling, and Steve knows that Bucky’s on edge — ready to break down. But somehow he manages not to and remains still. Steve washes Bucky’s hair out, taking care that no shampoo lands in Bucky’s face or eyes.

“You’re doing so good, Buck. I’m proud of you, baby; you’re doing so good for me, letting me wash your hair,” Steve mumbles, using Bucky’s praise kink a bit to his advantage. Bucky’s lips twitch slightly for a short moment, his heart fluttering at the sound of Steve’s words.

“Thank you, Stevie,” he mumbles, taking the shower head again. Steve puts shampoo in Bucky’s hair again and repeats to rub it in the brown locks while he massages Bucky’s scalp and neck.

The longer they sit there, the more he massages Bucky, and the longer the water drops down on Bucky’s thighs and he plays a bit with the water, the more he relaxes.

“So, do you want to wash yourself or want me to wash you?” Steve asks after a while, his thick fingers still tangled into Bucky’s hair. He takes the showerhead once more and washes the shampoo out, Bucky’s hair way cleaner and not as messy anymore.

“You, p-please?” Bucky asks; he's still feeling unsure and on edge in the shower. But with Steve’s soft touch and his assuring words, it makes the shower easier and more comfortable.

“Of course, just relax,” Steve says with a soft smile and kisses the top of Bucky’s hair. He takes the sponge and some soap, then he washes Bucky’s body. Beginning on his shoulders with a slight massage included to his arms and down his muscular chest and abs. Then he moves to Bucky’s back, massaging the tensed muscles while he rubs the dry skin off and cleans Bucky. “Mhm, doing so good, baby. Showers can be really relaxing for tense muscles, and you will feel all fresh, and your skin will be soft like the one of a baby.”

“Stevie…” Bucky whines, playfully this time. The brunette's lips twitch slightly, and he leans further back against his boyfriend's firm chest. “Don’t say that; that’s embarrassing.”

“But it makes you laugh,” Steve argues. He snakes his hands to Bucky’s legs and finishes cleaning his boyfriend, who’s starting to play with the showerhead. Bucky smirks when he washes away the soap the moment Steve inches a moment away. Then he turns the showerhead and holds it at Steve’s shoulder and face, causing the blond-haired man to groan when the water hits his face. “Bucky!”

“Stevie!” Bucky smirks, turning the shower head back. Steve laughs softly and takes the showerhead to wash the soap away, then he turns it off and clicks it back in its place.

The blond-haired man gets up, opening the door of the shower and stepping out. He keeps an eye on his boyfriend, who’s slowly getting up as well. Bucky’s still smiling, his whole body less tense, and he walks out as well.

Steve holds a towel in his arms, grinning as he walks closer and wraps Bucky in the towel before he grabs himself a towel and wraps it around his own body.

“I’m proud of you, Bucky. I know it’s not easy for you to shower with all that stuff that reminds you of your past. But I’m proud of you for taking the shower,” Steve says, placing his hands on Bucky’s waist to pull him closer. Bucky smiles softly, his cheeks heating up, and he leans closer to press his lips softly against Steve’s.

“You’re my rock, Stevie. And you owe me fast food, hot chocolate, movies, and cuddles,” Bucky whispers against the plump lips of his boyfriend. Steve nods, knowing that’s Bucky’s way to say thank you and I love you when it comes to stuff that includes his past trauma. “Burgers… and more burgers, and those cute dino nuggets — these are great, and you love them just as much as I do.”

“I do, but I still love you the most,” Steve smirks, causing Bucky to blush further. He brings his lips to Bucky’s once more, chuckling into the kiss. Steve’s hands remain on Bucky’s waist while Bucky wraps his around Steve’s neck — the metal arm making Steve shiver slightly when the cold hits his skin, while Bucky’s other hand is so warm and soft — and pulls him even closer, growling playfully.

Taglist: @rogersbarber @loki-laufeyson68 @etherealdisneyvillainness @winterschildren8 @pono-pura-vida @kimmie113080 @sergeantbarnessdoll @sebastianstanisahotmf @mercurial-chuckles @holylulusworld @randomawesomeperson102 @looking1016 @multiversefanfics @kpopgirlbtssvt @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @alexxavicry @gremlin-girly @iris-xoxo-juhu @fckedupandbeautiful @casa-boiardi @blackhawkfanatic @mrsalexstan @thesarcasmqueen-22 @blackhawkfanatic @casa-boiardi @kandis-mom @armystay89 @blackhawkfanatic @queen-honeybee-stories @hisredheadedgoddess28 @princesscore-angel @bamitzzsam [tag yourself]

#wintershieldbingo #Stucky #Steve x Bucky #Bucky x Steve #Bucky Barnes x Steve rogers #steve rogers x bucky barnes #stevebucky #buckysteve #steve rogers fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #stucky angst #Stucky fluff #stucky oneshot #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fluff #stucky fic #stucky fanfiction

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animeyanderelover · 9 hours ago

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May I request NSFW his for ryuken(bleach)

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, controlling behavior, afab reader, Nsfw, brontophilia

Nsfw Hc's

◻️Ryuken is one who takes things slow and meticulous. Everything has a plan, everything has a purpose. From the biggest displays to the smallest gestures. His rather controlling nature is at one point within a relationship of no secret to you, his strict attitude surprising and shocking as you are an adult capable of making your own decisions. He hasn’t entertained the thought of having sex with another woman since his wife passed away and truthfully speaking, he has been getting by fine. He’s a busy man after all and has been able to keep himself occupied with his work over the many years. If there have been incidents where he had a persistent boner which didn’t go away he just quietly took care of it and went on with his work. As the owner of a hospital and armed with quite a bit of knowledge about the human body, Ryuken understands after all that sexual urges are a normal biological response. It’s nothing he should feel ashamed of when he is unable to ignore his erection and it’s nothing he is going to shame you for either when he happens to realise that you’re masturbating. Instead he chooses to be kind enough to never mention it to you to safe you the burning shame.

◻️There’s no need to rush sex within a relationship with him. Ryuken is incredibly patient and whilst certainly forceful in some aspects, this is something he knows better than to urge you into. It would be very much something below his honor and duty to put you into a situation where you’re forced to get intimate with him. However, the longer the two of you live together the more he finds himself being more sexually affected than before. Not by a ton but just enough for him to notice and to get somewhat bothered by it but he keeps quiet about that. After all that is not your fault and just his body reacting due to his feelings and attraction to you. Usually more direct and honest when he feels the need to talk with you about something more important, Ryuken practices the art of sublety whenever he wants to figure out how you are feeling with the topic of getting intimate with him. He neither wishes to make you feel pressured nor does he want to risk coming over as someone starving to have sex. So this is a decision that he makes entirely dependent on you, meaning that the first time with him and every time after that with him is fully consensual.

◻️That man has experience when it comes to pleasing a woman and he is the type of person who never forgets once he has learned something. Ryuken just oozes confidence and patience to the point where you actually feel somewhat nervous, especially during the first time. Your first time with Ryuken is generally something you are never going to forget about as he spent a painful amount of time making himself familiar with your body and its reactions. Your body is unique after all and as your partner and lover Ryuken believes it to be very important that he knows all of it. Perhaps you just aren't prepared for the way he experiments with his fingers to see how quickly you are pushed over the edge or how fast it takes for you to come undone when he uses his tongue on you. By the time he actually finally pushes his manhood inside of you, you have already gone through a few orgasms and Ryuken actually asks you if you are still alright with continuing. That habit to explore and to experiment continues for a while until Ryuken has figured out how your body reacts best and through what means you receive the most pleasure. He's very capable of satisfying you.

◻️There is one thing that you notice over time but that takes you quite a lot of time to understand is the fact that Ryuken seems to have a certain preference for making love to you when it's stormy outside. In his mind though it creates a rather cozy atmosphere when both of you are at home where it's warm and comfortable whilst the rain is drumming against the windows. As you notice that pattern you actually start noticing other things as well. He always gauges your behavior when the sky is hidden behind dark clouds, most likely trying to figure out how you would be feeling if he were to initiate something in that moment. Over time it actually becomes somewhat of a tradition for the both of you whenever a thunderstorm looms over the city, skin pressed against skin whilst the cold wind rushes through the street and the occasional lightning illuminates the darkened bedroom. Ryuken is a busy man, he doesn't have an abundance of time that he can spend with you. So whenever he is allowed to indulge in you, he usually strives to make the most of it for the both of you. He would after all never be able to forget it if he were to do a sloppy job.

◻️Work tends to be stressful, his son tends to be stressful, life sometimes just tends to be stressful. It's rare for Ryuken to show that within his body language though as he prefers to solve his own problems by himself. Honestly, he doesn't hold the idea of using sex as a way to unload everything very highly. It's a mere distraction and not a solution after all. If at all, it just wastes precious time. So the first time you actually offer to give him a blowjob when sensing that he seems to be stressed, he is somewhat sceptical. Up until that point you have never given him a blowjob and his mind partially switches to the one of a doctor as he considers that this might trigger a gag reflex or hurt your throat, especially since his cock is on the longer side. Still, if you insist then he will eventually give in and let you do as you wish to do so. He does keep an initial watchful eye out on you in case you do end up feeling the need to gag until he deems it safe enough to actually focus more on the sensations than your well-being. He appreciates the gesture deep down but he still holds himself to his principles and focuses first on a problem before he allows himself any indulgence on which he can then fully focus on.

◻️Ryuken isn't much of a vocal type and he doesn't expect from you to be either. People react differently to sexual pleasure and as long as he knows that you are having a good time he doesn't really mind if you are the loud or the quiet type. Since he makes sure that Uryu isn't at home during sexual intercourse you can be as loud with your moans as you need to be. Hygiene is very important. That man owns a hospital and for that he is very much finicky about kepping everything sanitary. Sexual activities are strictly reserved for the bedroom and nowhere else. He doesn't want to make a mess on any surface that isn't a mattress and the only place you could talk him into is the bathtub. A ten out of ten for the aftercare that he provides though because that man knows what he is doing. Both of you spend a few minutes recovering before he is the one to get up and offer you something to drink since you just lost a lot of bodily fluid before he encourages you to get up and clean yourself. Those bedsheets are changed quickly by him whilst you either take a shower or a bath before he joins you so that the two of you can then return to a fresh bed.

#yandere bleach #yandere ryuken #yandere ishida ryuken #bleach x reader #ryuken x reader #ishida ryuken x reader #yandere x reader #x reader

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winter-hoof · 6 months ago

Text

We had to stop by my boyfriend’s parents house today to drop something off & it’s just so sad to see his mom’s garden so overgrown and messy ☹️

#you can’t be upset about it b/c his dad was spending all day every day at the nursing home w/ her #for over a year so he hasn’t had the time to take care of it #but it’s just sad to see b/c she LOVED that garden & was out there every day taking care of it ☹️#once I get my own messy overgrown yard cleaned up I want to take some flowers from her garden & plant them at my house #p

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lazychimken · 8 days ago

Text

Here’s some more art I had for my TFO + TFA inspired au, I should really start posting these separately instead of these doodle dumps 💀 some context:

This is after the events of TFO but before the events of TFA/Bots on Earth

- B-127 has been training for years at the Autobot boot camp to become a soldier and is currently doing deliveries for the Autobots alongside Cliffjumper, Mirage, etc

- He still aspires to be part of the Elite Guard, and a chance meeting with Elita-One during a shipment of energon rations had him ecstatic to see her again (he hasn’t seen her since Megatron was banished from Iacon and OP left him in the care of others)

- Elita-One, while secretly happy to see B-127 again, fears that she’ll lose him if he becomes part of the Elite Guard, so she immediately denies B a promotion and tries to have him keep doing deliveries (not very successful so far)

- B-127, while initially shocked by the rejection, doesn’t really take it to heart and so every time he runs into Elita he immediately bombards her with demands over joining the Elite Guard; he has yet to see OP

Here’s a relationship chart of the four disasters that are the protagonists of this story:

B is a little scared about how this will all end, please someone send these bots to a couples therapy 🙏

Also here’s a doodle of Starscream and B:

- Over the course of the war and the Deceptions commit a few war crimes, B eventually looses the hero admiration he had on the High Guard

- Doing deliveries, while not as dangerous as outright fighting, is still a perilous job with resources becoming more scarce

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rafekisser · 5 months ago

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Had this idea about Rafe’s best friend! Reader who hasn’t been with anyone in like a year and is getting really worked up. Maybe she had a terrible week and there was a last straw and she’s yelling and yanking on her hair and throwing things and Rafe is kind of realizing she just needs to be totally dominated and taken care of so he does

rafe x bsf!reader

a/n: i totally love that idea anon !! first time writing ever i just didnt want to let sweet nonnie down, so apologies if its not that good !

cw: smut, swearing, drool.

rafe knew you haven’t had a hookup in ages. you would vaguely mention it, when it would be just the two of you in either one’s rooms. if he was being honest, he pitied you. he even wanted to be the one to help you…

you were pissed off the whole week. maybe it was your hormones, with the way you would get annoyed at everything.

whether it be traffic making you late to events, or people at the country club being rude, steam was coming out of your ears.

you were like a ticking time bomb waiting to explode anytime now. good thing your bestfriend kept you grounded whenever you were feeling overstimulated.

so there you were, in your room getting ready for dinner with your family and the camerons. rafe on your bed scrolling on his phone, patiently waiting for you.

you were quiet while doing your makeup on your vanity table, not your usual chatty self. normally you would go on and on about anything and everything under the sun, yapping for hours on end.

rafe knew something was up.

“something wrong bunny?” he asked, using the nickname he gave you referring to the time you dressed up as a bunny for halloween when you two were little.

“no,” you replied with a pout, voice barely above a whisper.

rafe knew better than to push you, so he just sighed and kept quiet.

a few moments have passed, and rafe hears a soft ‘oh fuck’, a thud, and heavy breathing from your vanity. he looks up from his phone and sees your head down, soft sobs coming from the table.

when he got up to come closer, you shot up. screaming, crying, wailing even. rafe could see your problem now: you smudged your mascara. you started yanking out your hair curlers, figuring they were useless if your makeup was ruined anyway.

“woah woah- hey bun!” he yelled, pulling you by your waist. he placed you on your bed, rubbing up and down your arms to soothe you.

rafe guided you gently so you were laying your head on your pillows. he was in between your legs, arms caging your frame.

“shh calm down baby,” he whispered, wiping your mascara stained eyes with his thumbs.

he petted your hair, large hands slowly making their way to your cheeks.

“i’m here, i’m here.” he cooed as your cries hushed, turning into soft hiccups.

in this position he could feel you wet through your bloomers. he looked at your eyes as if to ask for permission silently, before he cupped your mound through the frilly fabric.

“what d’you need bunny?”

“need you rafey,” you whined. he carefully pulled down your bloomers, a string of slick connecting your pussy to the fabric.

rafe grew hard at the sight, taking his thumb to run across your slit. his other thumb trailing to play with your nipples through your top.

you mewl at the simultaneous sensations, given you haven’t experienced them in a long while. he took that as a sign to circle your clit, causing your eyes to shut and your legs to close, only to be blocked by rafe’s broad figure.

he then plunged two fingers in and out of you, thick digits stretching your tight hole. rafe’s hand that was previously playing with your tits find their way to your mouth, muffling your lewd moans.

“let’s be quiet bunny. your parents might be downstairs” he shushed, deep voice making your pussy clamp down on his fingers.

fingers curling up to hit your sweet spot, rafe could feel you getting close.

“you can cum baby, go ‘head,” he signals, feeling you gush all over his hand. eyes rolling to the back of your head, you felt euphoria rush through you.

as you rode out your high, rafe removes his hand from your mouth, drool dripping from your mouth and his hand.

“sorry,” you squeaked. he didn’t mind anyway, just happy you probably had your first orgasm not from your own fingers in months.

it never occured to you that this was an option, to be touched by your own bestfriend. this wouldn’t be the last time it happens, you could tell.

“thank you rafey.” you smiled weakly at him, looking through your lashes. he didn’t say anything, just kissed your forehead.

“are we late to dinner?” you asked, suddenly remembering why you were getting ready.

“i drive fast, we’ll make it,” he smirks, grabbing your small hand to cup the bulge through his pants.

dinner could wait.

likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated !! love, scarlet.

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casuallytalkingtothevoid · 4 months ago

Text

Thinking a very normal amount about Tim being joker junior.

Thinking about Jason dying and Tim becoming robin out of necessity.

Thinking about Bruce not noticing Tim has been kidnapped because surely, surely his parents would file a report. Surely Tim must have been dragged into going on a trip with them and just didn’t mention it.

Thinking of Bruce not questioning things correctly because he is too busy grieving the previous robin.

Thinking of Bruce just thinking Joker Junior is a random kid.

Thinking of Barbra being the one to notice instead.

Thinking of Barbra consoling Tim after he kills the Joker.

Thinking of her taking Tim and letting him heal in the Drake estate.

Thinking of a file Bruce Wayne makes called Joker junior, one that Tim never looks at, that talks about a kid who killed the Joker and has been missing ever since.

Thinking of, months later, when robin returns to Bruce’s side, it just so happens to coincide with the return of Jack and Janet.

Thinking of Tim thinking Barbra must have told Bruce, but he just never came to see him. And that’s fine, because it isn’t as if they are family, Tim is just here to make sure Bats doesn’t go off the deep end again.

Thinking of Barbra not telling Bruce, because surely he already knows, he’s the world’s greatest detective. Plus she isn’t one to talk about other people’s trauma when they aren’t around.

Thinking of Tim hiding his laughter, because Batman would never let him keep patrolling if he knew he was still having fits.

Thinking of Dick not being there most of the time, and when he is, he mostly spends it arguing with Bruce.

Thinking of Tim knowing that Dick must know because he hears them fighting about the joker being dead once, although he did leave pretty soon after when he feels the laughter bubbling up in his throat.

Thinking of Jason coming back, attacking him at the titains tower, and telling him that he’s read all his files and knows everything about Tim. Obviously Tim takes this to mean he knows that Tim killed the joker as JJ. Because why wouldn’t that be in his file.

Thinking of Jason not having time to question when the little Robin who replaced him starts manically laughing once he sees him, because as soon as he hears the familiar laugh the green takes over completely.

Thinking of Tim finally feeling in control of himself, but then worst year ever happens. His parents are dead, Bruce is lost in the time stream, all his friends are dead, Robin is stolen from him, and everyone thinks he is crazy. He starts to relapse.

Thinking of Tim actually going a little bit crazy after that, trying to clone Bart and Kon, joining the league of assassins, doing all those crazy things he did during worst year ever.

Thinking of Cass learning after saving Tim from the daughter of Acheron. There isn’t much he can do but explain after she witnesses one of his fits.

Thinking about years later, when everyone has relationships more akin to Batman: Wayne family adventures, Tim still feels a little out of the group.

Thinking of everyone getting mad when he talks about the Joker, especially if it’s in front of Jason.

Thinking of Tim going silent or making himself scarce everytime the Joker is mentioned.

Thinking of a Tim who finds an excuse not to go out when Harley Quinn is.

Thinking of a Tim who hasn’t had an episode in years.

Thinking of a Tim who watches Jason get all this support for his trauma, while he doesn’t.

Thinking of him going to Barbra or Cass anytime he has a set back because they are the only ones who seem to care.

Thinking of a Wayne family who doesn’t know.

Thinking of a Tim who Knows they Know, but they just don’t care.

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runraerun · 3 months ago

Text

Steddie Amnesia Ficlet: 2/3

-> Part 1 | Part 3 | AO3

cw: more head trauma/concussed!Steve discussions.

Steve hears Eddie call after him, but he doesn’t stop—he can’t face it. Not right now, anyway. Not when his eyes are stinging and his heart is pounding in his ears, each pulse more painful than the last. His legs take him to the building he’s supposed to go into, fueled purely by muscle memory. Not brain memory, of course, because nothing up there works properly anymore, apparently.

The Brain Injury Recovery Center.

It’s where Eddie expects him to go. He’ll catch Steve if he goes in, or he’ll wait for Steve by the doors until he comes back out—both options involve facing Eddie after Steve had made a total idiot of himself. Both feel utterly mortifying.

So he ducks into the alleyway beside the familiar brick building instead, just to catch his breath. It takes Steve longer than the average bear to sort out his feelings now, after all. Jesus, who’s he kidding? Everything seems to take him longer.

Steve feels hot tears streak down his cheeks before he angrily scrubs a sleeve over them. Of course Eddie isn’t his boyfriend. Eddie’s funny and cool and he’s in a band and he lights up every damn room he walks into—and Steve… well, maybe Steve was something a few years ago when he was in high school, and maybe he was even something before his accident, but now…

There’s a sharp clapping noise that sounds like thunder. A door slamming, Steve’s brain sluggishly supplies. It’s followed by shouting.

“Steve? Steve!” Eddie calls from somewhere on the street.

Steve’s heart feels like it’s going to fall out of his ass. His face is probably still blotchy and wet, his breathing hasn’t evened out yet and his eyes are still leaking like a goddamn faucet. He’s pathetic.

Can’t let Eddie see him like this…

He ducks behind a metal garbage bin, careful not to let anything but the bottom of his sneakers touch the sticky looking surfaces around him. It stinks, like rot.

“Steve?” Eddie’s voice echoes off of the alleyway walls. Steve claps a hand around his mouth to muffle out any of the pathetic sounds that seem determined to escape from him. So much of his body just does whatever the hell it feels like now. Out of Steve’s control, like everything else.

For a few, tense seconds, there’s silence. Eddie’s listening for him, maybe. Steve shuts his eyes and waits him out.

It feels like an eternity before he hears Eddie’s hurried, retreating footsteps, continuing his shouting for Steve. He sounds almost as panicked as Steve feels. Almost.

Steve gives a noisy, wet sniff and does one final scrub of his face before getting to his feet. He starts walking.

As he goes deeper into the alleyway, he thinks back on all the things he’s been wrong about. The fact that Eddie had some of his band t-shirts mixed in with Steve’s clothes… well, that was because they were both guys who wore about the same size, and Eddie left his shit everywhere. It’s no wonder some of his stuff got mixed into their laundry. And the times Eddie’s driven him places? That’s just… what friends do, Steve supposes. And all those times Eddie made Steve laugh? Made him feel like the center of the universe? Well, that’s just… Eddie. He must make everyone feel that way. It’s like his super power. But it isn’t romantic… It doesn’t mean anything more than Eddie being a magnetic person.

Steve is just so stupid. Painfully so.

He blinks as the sun hits him. He must’ve reached the other side of the alleyway.

Steve cups a hand over his eyes and grimaces. His migraine wasn’t backing down. He sighs. Time to head back.

Steve turns back into the alleyway he’d emerged from, only he’s about halfway through when he realizes the color of the buildings on either side of him are wrong. They’re brown on one side, painted green on the other. That isn’t right…

His heart jackrabbits in his chest, but he keeps walking forward. Maybe he’ll recognize the street once he’s back on the other side.

But when he gets there, it’s as unfamiliar to him as the alleyway. Steve turns, looking up and down the road to see if he could spot Eddie, or his van, or the Center. But there’s nothing.

And when someone shoulder checks him, Steve supposes he was sort of asking for it, standing in the middle of the sidewalk like that. He apologizes, but it’s too late. The person’s already out of range to hear him.

It’s as if everyone else is on fast forward while Steve’s stuck on pause. The world keeps moving along while all he seems to be able to do is watch it go by.

Why would he ever think someone as dynamic and spirited as Eddie would hitch his horse onto Steve’s busted up, barely mobile cart?

Stupid, stupid, stupid…

He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes and wills himself not to start blubbering again like a goddamn baby. His life is already one big, painful lesson in humility as it is, he doesn’t need to wallow in it.

Steve keeps walking. Figures he’ll spot something, or someone familiar to him eventually. The pounding in his head’s eased off to a dull ache, at least. Maybe there was something to this exercise and fresh air thing the doctors were always going on about, after all…

The thing is though, Steve doesn’t spot anything familiar. Not even vaguely so, and it’s not until the streetlights turn on that he realizes he’d spent the majority of the day wandering around the streets like some lost dog that managed to slip his leash.

It’s cold too, and all he’s got on is jeans and a polo. It’s October, isn’t it? No wonder he’s got goosebumps all up and down his arms.

Then, he finally spots something familiar; a phone booth. Steve breathes a sigh of relief. He’d just call his parents. They’d come pick him up.

He gets the booth and lifts the receiver before he blanks. A quarter. He’d need that. Duh, Harrington. So he hangs up the phone and pats his pockets until he finds a wallet, but all that’s inside of it are a couple of crisp bills. He’d need to break one.

Steve turns, scans the street until he spots a well lit, invitingly warm looking diner. The joint looks so damn cozy that he forgets to make sure the street is clear before he steps out into the middle of it.

Tires screech, harmonizing with the horn that’s blasting at him—Steve flinches, reaching up to cover his head and braces for impact.

To his great relief, the hit never comes. Which, thank fuck. He can’t afford anymore accidents. As it is Robin’s threatened to make him wear a helmet full-time.

Steve doesn’t listen to whatever the person yells at him, he just hurries to get the hell out of his way of the other moving vehicles.

“Smooth, Harrington. Real smooth.” He mutters to himself as he catches his breath.

He pushes the door to the diner open with shaking hands, but it’s blissfully peaceful inside, and he can actually feel his insides unclench as he stands inside of it.

“Sit anywhere, hun, I’ll be right with you.” A woman’s voice tells him. Steve nods and slips into the nearest booth overlooking the street. Watches the cars go by. There’s even a couple of cop cars, sirens blaring, lights flashing. Steve wonders briefly what sort of emergency they’re rushing off to when the waitress comes to his table.

“What can I get you, handsome?” She asks, cheery and warm like the rest of the diner.

“Uh…” Steve frowns, taking a few seconds to process the question, “nothing. I’m just waiting for my parents to come pick me up.”

The waitress taps the side of the notepad. “Well you gotta order something, hun, or you can’t stay here.”

Steve wants to stay here. It’s warm and smells fucking amazing, like “pancakes?”

She waitress smirks. “Yeah, we got those. You want a stack?”

“Yeah, please.” Steve smiles back, laughing along with the waitress like he’s in whatever joke that’s currently so amusing to her. “I’m starving.”

“You want some coffee too, to help you sober up, maybe?”

“Oh, I’m not drunk.” He huffs out a little self deprecating laugh, “I wish. No, I—uh, my meds, they’re the kind that you can’t mix with alcohol. Coffee too. Bummer, right? Yeah… But, uh, it is what it is, I guess—so…”

He can feel it. The way his mind so often wanders. He’s lost his train. His track. He frowns, eyes drifting towards the street again, watching the headlights zip by.

“…so just the pancakes then?” The waitress asks, jolting his train back onto its rails. His attention snaps back onto her.

“Yeah, pancakes. Sure.” Steve flashes her what he hopes is a charming smile.

She returns his smile and leaves him be, and he lets himself relax. Props his head up on a fist and watches life go on for everyone else but him.

He gets his pancakes, and some juice too that he doesn’t remember ordering, but hey, that’s nothing new. And damn, the pancakes taste even better than they smell. He needs to remember the name of this place so he can come back with everyone. What did the doctors say? Repeat something in your head over and over until it sticks. Repetition. Repetition, repetition, repetition…

It’s around the time his fork hits an empty plate that one of the police cars stops in front of the diner window, lights on, but the sirens are off now.

Hopper steps out.

Huh. That’s weird. Steve wonders what sort of emergency he’s here for.

When Hopper enters through the glass doors, the bell hung over the entry way rings out pleasantly. An angel getting their wings.

His eyes land on Steve and the older man sighs, shoulders falling. Relief, Steve recognizes. Hopper pulls the radio from his belt and says something into it before stomping over.

Then it clicks.

Oh. Steve’s the emergency.

He feels his face heat up. The handful of other patrons scattered across the diner are all looking at him.

“There you are.” Hopper sighs, gruff and exasperated.

Steve sinks into his seat, just a little. “Shit. I fucked up, didn’t I?”

“Just a little.” Hopper chuckles dryly. He takes off his hat and slips into the booth across from Steve, apparently not in any sort of hurry now that he’s found the runaway dog.

Steve runs a hand through his hair, a nervous tic he’s developed. “Sorry.”

“Nah, don’t be sorry. Just strangle Munson for me when you see him next, will ya?” Hopper drops his hat onto the table and waves the waitress down. He orders a coke.

Munson. Eddie.

The memory of how he made a total and utter fool of himself comes rushing back, slamming down onto him like one of those cartoon anvils. Jesus, how did he forget that..?

Suddenly the pancakes aren’t sitting so good in his gut. Feels like he’s gonna ralph.

“Was he freaked out? Eddie, I mean.” Steve asks, cautiously approaching the question. Did Eddie say anything about why…?

“Yeah, him and Robin both. Then the kids found out too—don’t ask me how. I suspect the curly-haired one has an illegal transmitter.” Hopper leans back in the booth as the waitress drops off his coke. He takes the straw out and drinks it right from the glass. Steve waits for him to finish, doesn’t say a word.

When Hopper puts the glass down, Steve just sits and watches the way the drops of condensation run down the cup, distorting around the fingerprints Hopper’s left. “Anyway, they’re all out on their bikes looking for you too.”

Hopper smiles fondly, like it’s something charming and not… pathetic. “You got a lot of people that care about you, kid.

Steve swallows around the lump in his throat, and nods. Tries for a grin, but it’s weak. Probably wouldn’t fool anyone, much less a cop. “Yeah, I’m a real lucky guy.”

Hopper looks like he wants to say something else, but he just takes a breath and nods. Steve’s grateful he doesn’t argue. Doesn’t think he has the energy in him right now to fend off the ‘but look how far you’ve come!’ ‘Your speaking’s gotten so much better!’ ‘It could be a whole heck of a lot worse!’ comments.

“What do you say we get you home? Unless you want dessert? My treat.” Hopper offers with a grin.

“No, I just want to go to sleep,” he says, before remembering his manners, “thanks, though.”

“Alright then.” Hopper glances down at the cleared plate of pancakes and the half finished coke before sliding out of the booth, followed by Steve. He takes out wallet, but Steve beats him to it. He tosses down a few bills, hoping it’s enough. Hopper doesn’t comment, so it must be.

The drive back to his and Robin’s apartment is a solemn one, but it’s strangely peaceful. Hopper’s got the heat on full blast due to Steve’s lack of coat, and the motion of the vehicle along with the darkened sky leaves Steve feeling wrung out in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time.

In fact, when they finally arrive, Hopper’s gotta shake his shoulder to wake him up.

“We’re here.” He rumbles out in his gruff baritone.

Steve lifts his head from his folded arm and looks up at the modest building. He wonders how far they live from the pancake diner. If they could walk there, sometime, him and Robin and Eddie.

But then Steve realizes he never got the name of it. He feels his insides sink. Another thing lost to him.

“Thanks, Hop,” Steve gives Hopper a nod and what he’s sure is a tired smile. “I’ll, uh—I’ll try not to run off again.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it.” Hopper says, diplomatically. “Let me walk you in.”

Steve cringes at the idea. He’s grateful for Hop and all he’s done—especially the part about not making him feel like a complete dummy—but he just wants this all to be over and for things to revert back to how they were. And at this point he’s so close he can taste it.

Steve busies his hands by undoing his seat belt. “No, it’s okay, really—“

Hopper looks like he’s about to argue but Robin damn near crashes out through the building’s illuminated front doors. She makes a b-line for Steve, who’s just barely gotten out of the cruiser.

She wraps her arms around him and doesn’t let go. “Steve! Holy shit, you scared me so bad. I’ve been out of my mind!”

Steve’s arms are trapped at an awkward angle, but he reaches around her as best he can, arms like flippers. “I’m okay. Seriously. Look, not even a scratch.”

She doesn’t laugh. Just squeezes him harder. Truthfully, Steve doesn’t know if he’s okay, but it’s what everyone always seems to want to hear from him, so he says it often.

“I’ve already killed Eddie like three times.” Robin murmurs into Steve’s chest, before finally pulling away. Her eyes are bloodshot, her nose stuffy, like she’s been crying.

“It’s not his fault, Rob.” Steve’s brows pinch together as he frowns, “is he…”

But when Steve looks up towards their building, he can see Eddie standing in the doorframe, his dark silhouette illuminated by the entry way lights. He’s still as a statue, holding open the door for them, arm extended out into the cold autumn night. Steve’s insides squirm.

“You got him from here, Buckley?” Hopper calls from his cruiser and Robin ducks to meet his eye before giving him a thumbs up. She loops her arm around his waist and they start towards their place—towards Eddie.

Before they reach him, Steve keeps his voice down as he asks, “Can I just go to bed? I don’t—I can’t talk about it right now.”

“Okay.” She nods, “I get it.”

But she doesn’t, not really.

Steve avoids eye contact with Eddie when they finally reach the building, and before he can say anything, Robin interrupts. “He’s going straight to bed. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” Eddie says in a small voice. He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t even follow them back up to their apartment. Maybe Eddie’s even relieved he doesn’t need to confront it tonight. Maybe they won’t ever confront it… maybe he’s hoping Steve’s brain will take care of everything and make him forget. Make it like it never happened. Part of Steve wishes—

No. He doesn’t wish that. His brain’s already functioning at half capacity, he doesn’t want to thank it for fucking up, even if it might make Steve’s life easier.

Whatever Eddie’s expression is, Steve doesn’t look back to find out. He keeps his eyes on his feet, focusing on putting one step ahead of the other.

When they finally arrive at Steve’s matchbox sized bedroom, he doesn’t even bother changing into pajamas, or even out of his jeans for that matter. He just falls into his bed, pulls a pillow over his head and wills himself to let go of the day and surrender to the sweet pull of blissful unconsciousness.

🫣 Oops, I made it worse. But I promise the Eddie and Steve confrontation is in the next part! 🙏 This is tagged angst with a happy ending for a reason.

Tag List: (message me to add or remove yourself.)

@morallyundefined @estrellami-1 @ollieolive @mugloversonly @wheneverfeasible @steddiefication @what-if-a-dragon @wrenisfangirling @yesdangerpls @flustratedcas @scarletyeager @snowstar2368 @starxlark @sofadofax @lawrencebshoggoth @stevesworldxx @jizzing-bastard-600and69 @bambibiest @queenie-ofthe-void @lilpomelito @bananahoneycomb @kaspurrcat @deadwhiterosesstuff @dame-zoom-a-lot @3vilpurpl3d0t @loudmariachibands @steddieislife

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deadsetobsessions · 1 year ago

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Danny Fenton is so damn sick of rich fruit loops. It’s worse now, since he’s one of them.

It’s not Vlad that he’s with, thank the Ancients, but Danny isn’t sure that this is better.

Because he’s Timothy Drake, a baby, and he’s been reincarnated after the Ancient of Reincarnation accidentally drank too much wine.

He’s going to kick their ass so hard when he gets back.

Danny huffs. He rolls over, ignoring the silent manor. Sure, he’s read the comics. Sure, he laughed and imagined being adopted by Batman- come on, Danny had black hair and blue eyes even back then, he was totally adoption bait- when his parents gave him reason to lose trust in their love. But that’s it, that’s all he thought it was. A day dream, a wish for a universe that didn’t exist.

Danny hadn’t understood the reality of the whole Infinite Realms thing, a place he was now the King of. Batman? Real. Danny? Reincarnated. Hotel? Trivago.

Like, this wasn’t what he meant, dammit.

And now he’s stuck as Timothy Drake, and Ancients, he was starting to see parallels.

——

Danny tried photography. He really did. He wanted to at least stick to the source material. But that’s not who he is. Even with the shiny new brain that memorized, catalogued, and put together clues at the snap of his fingers, but Danny’s never been one to take photos. It’s a respectable art, for sure, but Danny preferred to live in the moment instead of capturing it to remember forever. It’s just-

He watched the Graysons fall. He watched Dick Grayson turn into Robin. And Danny can’t and won’t ever betray his Obsession like that, ever again. He can’t let Jason die for his “story” to begin. That’s not how Danny works.

He’s there to protect.

Danny hasn’t ever been just Tim. Danny was also Tim and the Ghost King without a haunt. But now? Gotham is his haunt. He, in lieu of an actual city spirit, is Gotham. He’s also a Drake. And Drakes were meant to hoard.

Batman and Robin? They are his.

He claimed them, as a Drake. But that claim is weak. So he claimed them as their city, and that is a claim that will never be able to be challenged.

Danny’ll be damned before he allows some lanky starved clown beat the life out of one of his Robins. So, for the first time in his nine years on this planet, Tim-Danny goes ghost and flies.

“Who- who. Are you?” Robin slurred from his place in Danny’s hold. He is broken, yes. But not dead. Danny infuses some of his vitality, his ecto, into Jason’s injuries to help them heal.

“Gotham.” Danny replied, layering his ghostly voice with those of the city.

“Goth’m?”

“Gotham. Sleep, little bird. Your city has got you.”

When Robin, Jason, settled with a sense of trust that tugs at Danny’s core, Danny carried him to Batman, whose eyes were wild and manic. He glared menacingly at the green and white ghost in front of him, who was holding his broken and beaten son-

Well, it’d be menacing if Danny hadn’t watched him eat bricks and mortar, crashing into a building while using his grappling gun.

“You-”

“I am Gotham.” Danny cut him off. Despite his wary nature and natural paranoia, Batman settled at his city’s gaze rested on him. Danny knew that Batman recognized his city. Batman’s head bowed, but his eyes stayed on Robin. “You were supposed to take care of Robin.”

“I- I know.” And that voice was all Bruce Wayne the Dad instead of Batman the Vigilante. Danny gently placed Robin in Batman’s arms, taking in the tremors as he held his son close.

“Go back, Bruce. And make sure Jason knows how much you love him.”

He laughed as Bruce whipped his head upwards. “I am your city. You are mine as much as I am yours. I’ve known of you before you were born.”

Technically? Not untrue. But Bruce will chalk it up to weird magic shit. It’s not like it’s a secret that Gotham’s kind of curse. Besides, this way, Danny will be able to help out more often. And Bruce won’t be able to connect Tim Drake to the “Spirit of Gotham.”

“Return, my knight. This is not your city. I can not protect you as well as I can in Gotham.”

“Thank you… Gotham.”

Danny sighed. He wondered when he’ll have to field questions from a John Constantine. He’s pretty sure Bruce will call in magical help, even if it was his own city he was investigating.

Batman’s lucky Danny liked him enough to allow it.

#Danny is Gotham #danny phantom #Jason Todd #Jason Todd as Robin #joker is about to get haunted #bruce wayne #Gotham’s knight #batman #bamf danny phantom #ghost king danny #dc x dp #Danny is Tim Drake #he’s like nine #Jason Todd lives #joker? probably not #the bats: hmmm suspicious #also the bats: Gotham loves me! I’m doing the right thing!#dp x dc

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moody-alcoholic · 1 month ago

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Part 2 as promised.

Part 1

CW: Dead dove don’t eat, assault, mentions of SA, torture, suicidal thoughts, hurt/comfort.

_____________________

Ghost flicks the ash off his cigarette.

“Do we know who we’re looking for?" Gaz asks. It's a pointless question. They know who they’re looking for. You’ve been mentioning a guy at work who has been getting a little too handsy.

You were going to confront him in the new year with your boss. You didn’t want to ruin anyone's Christmas, now yours is ruined.

People are starting to leave the office building now, it’s just past midnight. They watch in silence concealed in the darkness down an alleyway a few buildings from your workplace. Maybe this was the alley you were found down. It’s dark and cold, the businesses are all closed, it would have been easy to coerce you down, it makes his stomach drop. Someone hurt you, he hurt you.

“Should have taken care of this sooner.” Gaz says. Ghost just hums watching as the lights in the buildings go off. The last few people are filtering out the building. Ghost straightens up flicking his cigarette but to the floor.

“That’s him.” Ghost says, blowing out the smoke before reaching up to pull the familiar balaclava down over his face.

_____________________

When the police arrive you feel somewhat sober. Your body is sore, your head throbbing. Seeing them walk in with all their gear makes you nervous. All of a sudden you feel like you’ve done something wrong.

Johnny never leaves your side, he holds your hand stroking it with his thumb while the female officer asks you questions you don’t know how to answer. You still can’t remember what happened. You can piece it together though, you can tell by the hushed voices and the somber looks from people.

The worst is the pain, the ache in your body every time you move, the bruises hurt the most. Sometimes Johnny runs his fingers over them, his eyes going dark and he lets out a sigh. John stands at the end of the bed still, his gaze never leaves you unless someone enters the room. You just want to go home.

The most embarrassing part is when they have to take pictures of your injuries. Your swollen eye is now turning black and blue. There’s bruises around your neck, talking hurts, swallowing’s worse. The nurse gives you more painkillers but it just makes you feel sick.

John talks with the officers and the nurse after they’re done. Johnny tries to keep your attention on him. You feel embarrassed, the nurse said they did a rape kit, you don’t even remember that, the police need to take it for evidence. That makes silent tears come, you can’t stop them.

“C’mon, none of that love.” Johnny says reaching up to brush them away.

“I want to go home,” you sob.

“We’ll be home soon, promise,” he smiles. You want a shower, you want to scrub your body clean. You feel dirty, your stomach is turning as your mind wanders to the unthinkable. You hope you never remember what happened, you fear you won’t be so lucky.

_____________________

Ghost’s fist meets his cheek, his nose is broken, his jaw will be next. Not now though, now they need him to talk.

“Price says he’s on his way.” Gaz says as he walks back over to him. “Asked you not to kill him.” Ghost just grunts.

Ryan, that's his name. You never mentioned that to them, you didn’t mention much just that he was making you uncomfortable. Gaz was right they should have dealt with this sooner. They shouldn’t have let you go to the party alone. Even before you left you had reservations.

Ryan hasn’t said much. He was very drunk when they picked him up. He seems pretty sober now, he’s scared.

Good, he should be.

Ghost wonders if you were scared, when you were assaulted. It doesn’t seem like you remember much, for your sake he hopes it stays that way.

The door to the secluded warehouse opens, the sound of slamming metal echoes in the space. John bought this place a few months ago, used to store scrap metal. The place still smells of rust, but it’s outside the city center, it’s quiet and that's all they need.

Price walks over coming out of the darkness. He doesn’t say a word, just takes in the scene. Ryan looks up, his eyes glued on the new person walking up to him. Price grabs the back of a chair and places it in front of him before sitting down.

“Ryan, right?” He asks. The man nods. “Had a good night? He doesn’t move.

“Do you like your job?” He nods again. Price leans forward. “So, let's have a chat about what happened tonight.”

“Nothing happened tonight,” he says, swallowing hard. Price smiles at him for a second before sitting back up.

“Let’s try that again. What happened at the party?” Ryan looks confused for a second. Blood is still dripping from his nose, Price sighs this is going to be a long night.

“Wait, is this all about her?” He asks looking up past Price at Ghost. “Look I don’t know what you think happened but she came onto me.”

Price hums his hands gripping his thighs before getting up and moving the chair away. “Thing is, I just don’t believe you.” Ghost steps back over to him.

“I’m telling the truth.” He pleads.

“Nope, try again.” Price says. Ghost’s fist crashes into Ryans face. His head snaps uncomfortably, he spits blood coughing.

“So what happened at the party?” Price asks again.

“Who the fuck even are you!?” He shouts looking round at the 3 men standing in front of him.

“That doesn’t matter.” Price says, Ryan scoffs spitting again.

“Why do you care?” He asks, looking around at everyone.

“It’s a simple question.” Price says bending down so his head is level with his face. “We can be here all night. Or you can be honest with us.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He says, there’s a shake in his voice. The adrenaline and alcohol pumping through his system is filling him with confidence. They have to break that first. Price sighs moving back to stand with Gaz.

This time Ghost’s fist slams into his stomach. He buckles over in pain, crying out as he pants. Price doesn’t wait, striding over to him grabbing his hair, pulling his head back.

“Okay, okay. But she was drunk!” He shouts, trying to fight Price’s grip. His arms and legs are tied to the chair. Price doesn’t let go of his head holding it back as far as it will go.

“No. Try again.” Price says through gritted teeth.

“I didn't do anything!” He says between breaths. Price looks up at Ghost and nods, Ghost unfolds his arms going back over to the car.

“We can make this very uncomfortable for you. All we need is the truth.” Price says, pulling his head again.

“I don’t know anything.” There’s a whimper in his voice, a crack in his confidence. They're getting there. Price forces his head straight as Ghost comes back over to them twirling the knife in his hand. Ryans eyes go wide, his arms and legs pulling on the restraints. Price keeps his grip firm on his head forcing him to look at Ghost’s hulking figure moving towards him.

“Last chance.” Price says. Ryan doesn’t say anything, his eyes still locked onto Ghost.

“I-I didn't-” He sucks in a breath of air swallowing. “She was drunk!”

Price sighs, shaking his head. He looks up at Ghost, he can see the disgust behind his lieutenants eyes.

Ghost plunges the knife into his thigh. Price lets go of Rhyn’s head as he screams.

_____________________

John left almost an hour ago. Johnny recommended a bath instead of a shower, so you could soak and warm up. He gets in the bath with you pulling your back up against his chest as you sit between his legs. The bath was a good idea, the water is almost too hot but you don’t mind.

It feels good to be in Johnny’s arms. He helps you rub soap over your body. He’s gentle, pressing kisses on your shoulders avoiding your neck. You sigh, relaxing back into him. Your head is still stuffy, it feels like you’ve been run over by a truck.

“Where is everyone?” You ask.

“Out, they’ll be back soon don’t worry.” He says his voice is warm in your ear. His arms squeeze you closer to him. The memories of the night seem to be just out of reach, you remember a face though.

“I know who it was,” you say your voice catches in your throat.

“Shh, we don’t have to talk about it.” His hand comes to push hair behind your ear. You smile, you don’t want to talk about it but maybe it will help.

“I have work tomorrow.” Your stomach sinks. The thought of going back to that place with him there. Having to spend the days avoiding him, brushing off his hands as they squeeze your ass or his fingers press against your breasts. You were going to talk to your boss about him in the new year.

“No you don’t, don’t worry about anything.” He says kissing your shoulder again. You shiver, the water has lost its heat. Johnny shifts pushing you forward.

“C’mon let’s get you into bed. You’ll feel better after a good sleep.” You don’t know if you believe him but he gets out the bath leaving you alone and cold. You feel dirty, used. You feel panic rising in your chest. As soon as you hear the door to the room open you lay down in the tub closing your eyes and holding your breath.

Your mind goes back to the alley, it’s like flashes in your vision, the dump trash bin you’re uncomfortably bent over. A hand over your mouth then round your neck. The pain, the pain is unbelievable. You don’t remember how it happened, how you ended up there, the next thing you remember is a party of drunk women finding you. Then the paramedics showed up.

Your lungs burn but you don’t care. You deserve the pain. Hands grip your arms pulling you up out of the water.

“Christ love,” Johnny says, holding you against him as you pant sucking in breaths of air. The panting turns to sobbing. He reaches, pulling the plug out the bath and picking you up in his arms.

“I know, love I know.” He takes you into the bedroom putting you down on the bed. You pull your legs up to your chest. Johnny dries you, rubbing you down while you sob. He brings pyjamas over, he helps you change, pulling the fresh clothes on you. You still feel dirty, maybe it will always be like this. You don’t want it to be like this.

“It hurts.” You say as he climbs into bed behind you. His arms wrap around you pulling your back against his chest.

“You’re okay lass, you’re safe.” He kisses the top of your head. It’s not, it's not going to be okay. You just hope whatever the others are doing they’re safe. You miss them, you want to see them again. You want everything to go back to normal

…

Simon crawls into the bed with you and Johnny. You’re asleep on Johnny’s chest. He shuffles up against your back wrapping his arm around you both. His hair is still wet from the shower. He kisses the top of your head. Johnny stirs feeling a hand grip his hip.

“Did you get him?” Johnny asks, his voice still sleepy.

“Yeah, we got him.”

_____________________

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champagnefountains · 1 year ago

Text

LUCIFER MAGNE - H.H.

Prompt: Lucifer continuing to wear his wedding ring despite being in a relationship with you.

Genre: Angst and hurt; somewhat fluffy (but only for a brief while). Warnings: Swearing. Unhealthy relationship/coping mechanisms (?). Word count: 2.2k+

Lucifer had been courting you for a couple of months already, the King of Hell finally deciding it was time to make the two of you official. The tension was so incredibly thick, that even the hotel’s patrons were growing sick of having to watch the two of you dance aimlessly around each other. Charlie included.

The past couple of months were more than delightful – Lucifer treated you like a Queen, taking you out almost every other night, having nice candle-lit dinners, and dancing the night away. And if you weren’t really feeling the glamour, the both of you would stay cuddled up against one another whilst watching some cliche rom-com. It was like a dream. It was perfect…well, almost.

The very source of your concerns was the golden band that remained in Lucifer’s ring-finger.

You knew about the heart-break and torment that Lucifer underwent following his separation with Lilith. Understandably, having been together for many decades and centuries, the King had a difficult time trying to move on. Even in the earlier stages of your relationship, when he had been comfortable confiding in you, it was evident that he still deeply cared for Lilith, despite her absence.

You tried to be understanding – you really, really did. But every time you held his hand, the cold metal feeling against your fingers set a painful reminder that maybe he still hasn’t moved on completely.

It filled you to the brim with self-doubt. Perhaps he was just keeping you around just to fill in the void she had left. And if that were the case, were you even doing a good enough job in that? Hypothetically, if Lilith were to waltz in front of the hotel’s doors one day, was he going to throw you off to the side and run away with her? What if he’d grow bored of you all of a sudden?

Questions such as these would linger at the back of your head constantly, and as they did, you would cast a longing gaze in his direction. When he catches your eye, he would automatically send a smile your way, pearly-whites in full display. It would make you smile without fail, because how could it not? You loved that dashing smile of his. But everyday, you wondered if you could continue to maintain that smile in your life.

One night in particular, during dinner at one of Hell’s finest establishments, Lucifer noticed that something was off. Your smile hasn’t been reaching your eyes, and you seemed like you were anywhere but here. Your eyes had a distant look to them and whenever he’d ask if something was wrong, you would become dismissive. It concerned him a lot.

“Darling, are you alright?” Lucifer carefully asked once you both made it to the front porch of the hotel. “Was it the food? Was it not to your liking? Because the chicken was a bit off to be honest, it could’ve been a bit more seasoned–”

“Luci,” you intervened and grabbed his hands, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “The food was great, really. It’s just…” As your voice trailed off, you were quick to feel that damn ring around his finger. Because, of course you did, and it didn’t help your mood at all. You force out a huff and pull away, causing the demon’s frown to deepen, “I’m feeling a little under the weather tonight – probably just lacking a bit of sleep.”

Lucifer scanned your face all over, his brows furrowed in worry. “Well…I guess you have been working harder for the hotel recently.” There had been some truth in that – after all, there had been an influx of sinners in the hotel since the cancellation of this year’s extermination. But he didn’t seem to stop there, not fully convinced by your reasoning, “...But are you sure that’s all, my dear?”

You looked at him, surprised, as if suddenly caught red-handed. He was quick to pick up on that too, confirming his suspicions and making him all the more nervous.

“What are you trying to say?” You ask.

“Well, i-it’s just that I noticed that you’ve been acting a bit off recently,” he splutters. “And not only tonight. You’ve become a bit more…I don’t know, distant with me. And it worries me, y’know? I just…I really, really care about you. A lot.” He almost looks defeated as he rubs anxiously at his nape, “And if I’m being honest, it scares the absolute shit out of me that what I’m doing now isn't right."

Your brows crease in confusion, “...What are you talking about?”

Lucifer closed his eyes, dragging a palm against his face as an exaggerated groan leaves his lips. “Look, I’m not exactly experienced with all…all this – the one woman I’ve ever been in a committed relationship with left me. Just like that!” He lets out a humourless snort. “A-And I don’t know what I did to make her leave and I for sure don’t want to make that same mistake again. I…I want to be assured that I’m making you happy.”

Lucifer looks up at you, eyes filled with warmth, as he places a gentle hand against your cheek. He breaks the distance between you to press his forehead against yours. You automatically lean against him out of habit. “I don’t want to lose you. And if I’m doing something wrong, tell me. Please, don’t shut me out.” He pleads, his voice almost falling into a whisper. The unexpected confession left you speechless, your chest feeling all the more tight. It was making you feel worse than you already did.

You let out a shaky sigh, trying to keep the pending tears at bay. “Luci, I’m sorry. I didn’t know…I-I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. Trust me when I say that you’ve been nothing more than a gentleman, and every moment we’ve spent together has been magical. I appreciate you so, so much, and I could never, ever ask for anything more.”

You shut your eyes tight, shame filling your very core. “I’m just being a little silly–”

“No, no. Don’t say that, darling. Please tell me what’s going on. It’s okay,” Lucifer encourages softly, his thumb rubbing reassuringly against your cheek.

You grab his wrist and gently pull your face away from him. With the hand on his arm, you slide it down to grab at his own, bringing it up into view and in-between the both of you. Almost instantaneously, both your eyes lie on the golden band on his finger – to Lucifer, it suddenly clicks. But he couldn’t help but feel an internal conflict brew within him.

“I-I know how much that ring and Lilith means to you. I really do and I feel awful having to feel this way, but I just…I can’t help it,” you mutter, finally allowing the first couple of tears to fall, “I-I often find myself counting the days and hours when you’ll suddenly realise that I will never be good enough for you. It feels like I’m constantly having to compete with her–heck, what am I even saying? I know I’ll never be able to compete – because, I mean, come on. I'm a nobody!” You chuckle tearfully whilst gesturing to yourself with a free hand.

“And I don’t think I’ll ever understand how you’d ever settle for someone like me. I’m not nearly as important, nor am I the best-looking demon out there. I’m just me.”

“But Lucifer, whenever I’m with you, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. I smile more. Laugh more. I even enjoy the little things more. And I don’t want that to go away. And I’m just hoping– Satan, I’m fucking hoping that it’s the same for you. And if it is, then how long is that going to last with me?”

Completely shocked, Lucifer watched in silence as his love sobbed their heart out in front of him. He wanted nothing more than to go and wrap you in his warm embrace, and whisper reassurances and hush down your cries. Because, you were right – you did make him happy. So unbelievably happy. You had been the light that casted away the shadows in his darkest times. And yet, why? Why did he remain where he stood, unmoving as tears pathetically poured from his eyes? Why wasn’t he saying anything?

There was a brief, stagnant moment of contemplation where the both of you just stood there. It was the realisation that Lucifer didn’t make any effort to formulate some form of response, that disappointed you even further. It only made the doubtful voice in your head louder.

It was you who ultimately decided to make the first move, wiping tiredly at your reddened face as you glanced at the hotel’s door. “I’ll be heading off first. I’ll be in the guest room tonight – it’s been a long day,” you raspily say, hiccuping as you pushed through the doors and disappeared into the hotel, leaving Lucifer alone outside.

As you entered the hotel, you immediately noticed Husk’s presence by the bar, who had been polishing some glasses by the counter. In front of him was Angel, who was making some sweet, small talk with him. They were both alerted by your entrance as the doors flew open, and as Angel was about to greet you in his usual playful fashion, his voice fell flat when he saw the depressed state you were in.

“Woah, there. What the hell happened to you? You look like shit,” Angel asked, standing to meet you half-way, “I thought you and Short-King were out on a date. Did something happen?”

“We were but we had a fight or something,” you tiredly shrugged as you walked past the arachnid and plopped yourself down on one of the bar stools. You swirled yourself on the seat to face Husk. “Give me the strongest shit you have. And make it double,” you waved absently at the feline-demon, who raised an incredulous brow at your bluntness. “Damn, it must be that serious considering you don’t even drink,” he grumbles as he turns to start brewing a glass of something, “...do you wanna talk about it?"

You contemplated his offer for a second and realised that you did. For the next five or so minutes, you ended up recounting everything that happened earlier tonight, all the while shedding even more tears. Angel was kind enough to supply you with a mountain of tissues to cry into.

“Well, it sounds to me that your man’s got a whole lot of thinking to do,” Husk clicks his tongue. “But what you’re feeling is completely valid.” “Yeah, who the fuck wears their ol’ wedding ring while dating someone else? What an asshole,” Angel hisses.

“S-So you guys think there’s a possibility that he might consider ending things with me?” You question dejectedly. Husk and Angel share a look of uncertainty, suddenly feeling the need to be careful of their words. Because they genuinely weren’t sure.

“I–Look, that’s not something we should be focusing on at the moment– I mean, of course, let’s hope that that’s not where this is going. I just think he needs some space to think things through properly,” Husk says.

“And I know I was talking a whole lot of shit before but let’s take the benefit of the doubt and look at things from his point of view. He was in that boat for more than a couple thousand years. And shit, that’s a lot of fucking years.” Angel points out. “It might take him a while longer to adjust to that, y’know?” Angel places a hand on your shoulder, grinning at you reassuringly, “But there’s one thing for sure that myself and everyone else knows: the guy loves yah, toots. Anyone with eyes can see it, and you guys are really fucking disgusting about it too–ow!”

Angel suddenly lunges forward against the counter as one of Husk’s wings swipes down to slap the back of his head. “‘The fuck was that for?! It’s true, ain’t it?!” Husk rolled his eyes at his dramatics, before turning back to you. “He’s right, though. Just…just give him a bit more time. I’m sure in the end, the both of you will be fine.”

Meanwhile, Lucifer decided to head back to his own castle, wanting to be alone to sort through his cluttered thoughts. He was beyond upset with himself for making you cry like that, because it was the last thing he wanted. But he was more upset at the fact that he didn’t know how to navigate through his emotions, despising that he found himself second guessing his feelings.

As you explicitly implied, was he really still unconsciously longing for Lilith? Was that why he kept wearing his ring? Why was he still wearing it? Was it just for his own comfort? But why would he need it anyways? You were there, weren’t you? All he had said to you tonight, he was contradicting himself, wasn’t he? Perhaps he’s scared. Maybe he isn’t ready yet. But, why would he be with you if he didn’t think so? What exactly were you to him? And what exactly was Lilith to him now?

Lucifer was a complete mess, and that night he couldn’t find a single blink of sleep as these thoughts plagued him. And neither could you, as you scrutinised every aspect of your relationship, thinking of what this could mean for the both of you, moving forward.

Yeah…perhaps you both needed some time.

Chapter II [x]

#lucifer magne x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer magne #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel

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kissitbttr · 4 months ago

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frat!sukuna is a fucking asshole

he rolls his eyes each time you confront him about his alcohol consumption and weekend parties. demanded you to stay out of his way because he doesn’t belong to you and vice versa. so he’s free to do whatever he wants

frat!sukuna is a fucking asshole

who goes to classes whenever he pleases, ignoring your advice about taking care of his grades because you want to see him excel in everything. not just football. he refuses to have you mentor him because he doesn’t want to be babied

frat!sukuna is a fucking asshole

who throws or give away every cookie and home cooked meals you make for him for lunch. he hates the little notes you give him, so he crumples the papers and put it in a bin. he hates how you smile each time you see him on hallways or campus park, calling by his nickname ‘kuna!’ it’s so embarrassing. jesus, can you shut the fuck up?!

frat!sukuna is a fucking asshole

who flirts with girls during parties and classes, inviting them over to have sex despite knowing how you feel about him. what the two of you have is a casual thing, he’s not your boyfriend! so why should he gives a shit about you crying when you see him holding a girl’s hand, guiding her upstairs.

frat!sukuna is a fucking asshole

who promises that he’ll change as long as you stay the night after a fuck session. he break down your walls by giving you an aftercare and a glass of water. he lets you cuddle into his chest and kisses the top of your head… only to kick you out the next morning because he’s seeing yorozu and he doesn’t want you around.

frat!sukuna is a fucking asshole

who pretends like he doesn’t know you exist except when he’s hitting you up late at night. smirking to himself at just how easy it is for you to respond immediately. god, it’s too easy.

frat!sukuna is a fucking asshole

who’s expression remains stoic when you pour your heart out to him… telling him how much you want to be his despite everything that he did to you. all because you are certain that he cares about you. but he denies it. telling you to fuck off because he doesn’t want you beyond sex. so either you stay as his fuck buddy or leave.

frat!sukuna is a fucking asshole

who throws a party thirty minutes after you left crying from his room. shrugging it off and decides he’s going to fuck different girls that night by the help of his friends. gojo and geto.

frat!sukuna is a fucking asshole

who feels like something is wrong not having you by his side. it has been weeks that you left and he hasn’t seen you a lot on campus. discreetly trying to find you through your friends, the classes you’re taking, even stalk through your social medias. only to find you have already blocked him out of your life.

frat!sukuna is a fucking asshole

who sees you at the campus park after going missing from his life. you were wearing a smile that he finds so pretty annoying and a look of glow that he has never seen before. you were laughing with your friends and your hand was… wait a minute…

gojo satoru?!

frat!sukuna is an asshole

who marches to gojo after practice and punch him straight into his jaw until he tumbles. yelling at the white haired man for stealing you away when he was supposed to be sukuna’s best friend. how long has its been going on? when did you guys meet? are you two dating already?

gojo doesn’t care. he doesn’t care about being sukuna’s best friend. all he cares about is you. the sweet gorgeous girl who he had his eyes on throughout junior year. even during the times you were hooking up with sukuna… he still has his eyes on you.

and gojo loves you. dear god, he loves you. there is nothing in this world he wouldn’t give.

frat!sukuna is a fucking asshole

who quiets down when gojo admits his feelings about you. because he could treat you better than that pink haired bastard who doesn’t care about you. because gojo notices everything. he notices the food that you cooked, the notes, the nickname, the coddling, the sweet cheery voice when you see sukuna… what kind of man would give that up?

you have so many flowers to receive and gojo is not going to miss out on that chance to hand them to you.

and sukuna releases his grip around gojo’s collar, backing away from the man without another word and out of the locker room. frustrated with himself and curses himself in the head for being this way.

frat!sukuna is an asshole…

…who’s too late to say he actually fucking loves you

#frat!sukuna #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna angst #jjk #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna blurbs #ryomen sukuna angst

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soaps-mohawk · 1 year ago

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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 1 - The Introduction

Summary: Captain Price has been fighting the requests to add an omega to his team until those requests become commands. You find yourself traveling half a world away to join a pack of highly trained soldiers to balance out their dynamic. Not all of them are quite so happy about your arrival, but you're a good omega who does as you're told.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, language, brief moments of panic on the reader's side, scenting, military inaccuracies, let's be real this is so unrealistic but it's a/b/o you're not here for accuracy.

Author's Note: I couldn't help it and I've found myself falling into the Call of Duty brainrot once again so here I am to bless you with some poly 141 a/b/o goodness. It's just part 1, I promise things will get better as the story goes along.

MASTERLIST | Next ->

“I don’t like this.”

“Believe me, John, I know. But the higher ups are putting a lot of pressure on us with this initiative and I’ve pushed back as much as I can. They’re convinced it will be good for morale and team dynamics.”

He wants to protest, but he’s been protesting this idea for three months. “What more can you tell me about her?”

“Not much that isn’t already in her file.” Her tone is not lost on him. She can, but that’s not a conversation to be held over the phone. “She’s quiet and polite, a bit jumpy but she relaxes once she gets to know you. Remember, I picked her out myself.”

That doesn’t make him feel any better.

He flips through the file again after he hangs up with Laswell. He almost has it memorized by now, having looked through time and time again since the letter was dropped on his desk three months ago.

He stares at the photo, the headshot taken by the institute in her file. She’s cute, as most omegas are. American, but she had grown up on military bases. At least this world wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to her. He grimaces as he looks over her DOB below the photo. She’s young, younger than he would have liked, but at least she was old enough to drink.

He sighs through his nose as he flips through her records. She’s been in the institute for nearly ten years, likely sent as soon as she presented. He flips through page after page of test results, notes from her instructors, personality and temperament analysis, essays and essays worth of information written on her and also by her. He didn’t care so much about what her instructors thought, he was more interested in her.

“Christ.” He breathes as he pauses on the page with her statistics, rubbing his eyes. The file has everything in it, down to heat tracking and her early signs it was starting.

As if he doesn’t have enough to worry about, now he’s going to have an omega under his care.

He hasn’t considered taking an omega in well over a decade. Back when he had been young and reckless, he had once considered starting his own pack, but then his career in the military began to take off and he let that dream go. It became too dangerous, and he had seen many times what happened to omegas who were left behind during deployments for too long.

His team didn’t need an omega. He had briefly considered it in the beginning as they adjusted to the new dynamics, but he knew it was too dangerous and their schedules were far too unpredictable for the sort of stability omegas needed. He had fought time and time again against the push to add an omega to the team. They had settled into their roles easily, and operated perfectly fine with the missing dynamic.

Then the Omega Initiative was born and he found himself with no grounds to refuse anymore. Task Force 141 was getting an omega whether they wanted one or not.

He can’t help the tickle in the back of his mind that something else might be going on. He flips back to the first page, staring at the omega’s photo. They’d be here in a week. She’d be flying with Laswell to London where she’d be given a few days to adjust before they’d fly in here and she’ll be left with her new pack.

Price closes the file, leaning back in his chair. He has a lot to do in the next week.

You stare down at the files laid out on the table. Four of them, hardly more than a single page each, most of which was blacked out. They’re all older than you, their birth years at least visible to you. Most of the things on the file you don’t understand, and you weren't even sure how tall they were since you can’t convert meters to feet in your head.

You’re tired and on edge, nervous about tomorrow when you'd meet your new pack. You sit back in your seat, letting out a long breath.

“I know.” Station Chief Laswell, Kate as you had been told to call her, takes the seat across from you. “You’re going to have to get used to hearing the word classified. What they tell you about themselves is, of course, up to them, but the things they do, the places they go, even with your security clearance as high as it is, that will all still be-”

“Classified?” You finish for her.

Kate smiles. “Exactly. It’s mostly for your safety. The less you know...”

The less there is to make you a target.

You’d been given that speech before you left D.C. You’d been given a lot of briefings, as Kate had called them, since you had been pulled into the director’s office at The Institute and told to pack your bag. You remembered Kate and the interview you had done a few days prior. It hadn’t been any different than the other interviews you’d done before, except that you were chosen this time.

What had come after was three months of intense briefings and training, for what, you hadn’t really known at the time. They had told you little, at least until last week when Kate pulled you into her office and told you what was happening and why it was happening and where you were going.

“You don’t have anything to worry about, though.” Kate continues, something you’ve been told over and over again during your briefings. “They’re all good men. John and I know each other well. I wouldn’t have picked you if I didn’t think you could handle them.”

You continue to stare at the files. Two alphas, two betas. It wasn’t an unusual pack, evenly balanced, except for the missing omega. If the situation were different they may have elected to have two omegas to keep the even balance. This wasn’t a normal situation, though. This was a military pack, special forces at that. It wasn’t unusual for packs to form on bases, especially those stationed together for long periods of time. Alphas and betas united together with one purpose, one collective goal.

That was why so many alphas were drawn to the military.

That, and the excuse for violence.

Omegas weren’t allowed to enlist, omegas weren’t allowed to hold many jobs at all. It was usually only in special circumstances, and even then, they were more likely to be assigned into a pack than be allowed to work and care for themselves. In a lot of ways you were lucky. You wouldn’t have to fight to find a pack, fight to find a match, fight for one of the few decent alphas left in the world. Your road had been chosen for you as soon as you presented.

In a lot of ways, though, things were worse for you.

“How do you feel?” Kate asks, looking you over. You’ve grown to like the beta Station Chief in the weeks you’ve spent together.

“Tired.” You run a hand across your face.

“The time difference will do that to you.” Kate says, giving you a sympathetic look. “Not to mention everything else.” Kate stands, stacking the files and pushing them to the center of the table. “I have a couple more errands to run, so get some rest. I’ll pick us up some dinner on the way back.”

You look nervous.

He can’t blame you. He’d felt a bit of a nervous twist to his stomach this morning as he’d finished ensuring everything was in place. He doesn’t often get nervous anymore, years and years of experience giving him the ability to expect anything and react accordingly.

This is different, though. This isn’t a soldier he’s greeting, this is an omega.

His omega.

As Pack Alpha he had more of a claim to you than anyone else. It was his mark you’d wear, his scent that everyone would notice first. It was his duty to protect you, to ensure you have everything you need. You’re not another member of his team, you’re not even a soldier. You’re just a poor civilian that’s been thrust into this world of danger and secrecy.

“Captain Price.” Laswell greets him, shaking his hand.

He greets her back, but he can’t help his gaze as it flickers to the omega. You’re small, as expected of an omega. Your sweatshirt hides most of your curves, but your jeans hug your full thighs. Most omegas are small and soft, designed to be held and healthy enough to bear children when cared for correctly.

He doesn’t even want to think about that.

Laswell introduces you, your feet shuffling a bit as you step forward toward him. Coming from an institute, you likely hadn’t had much contact with alphas before now. You try to stand taller, look braver as you stand before him, but he can smell the tangy edge of anxiety surrounding your scent.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” You say, shaking his hand. It’s small and warm in his, your skin soft and slightly clammy.

“The pleasure is mine.” He says, releasing your hand.

You let it drop to your side, pulling your sleeve down over your fingers. You shift on your feet, your body language betraying your nervousness. Hunched shoulders, fingers tugging your sleeves over your hands, shifting your weight foot to foot as if you might take off running at a moment’s notice. Your eyes dart across the airfield taking in the movement around them. You’re on edge, alert, and likely a little overwhelmed.

“I’ll show you around and let you get settled.” He says, his eyes shifting to Laswell. “You and I have some things to discuss.”

You follow behind him with Laswell as he leads you towards the building that served as the 141’s home base. He points out different places you might find yourself visiting. The gym, the rec area, the mess hall, and finally their barracks. He leads you down the hallway where their rooms were located, pointing out each door before he gets to yours, sandwiched between his own and Gaz’s, with Soap and Ghost on the other side.

He opens the door, letting you enter. He stays in the doorway, letting you explore the small space. Your bags had been brought in, the faint hint of the beta Corporal that had brought them in still lingering in the air. There’s four shirts folded neatly on the desk, one from each of them that they’d slept in for the last couple days to give you a chance to get used to their scents.

“The lads are still running a simulation, but they’ll be done within the hour.” He says, drawing your gaze from the bed. “We’ll let you get settled in and I’ll come get you when they’re ready.”

“Thank you, sir.” You say.

Laswell steps in as he steps away for a moment, letting the two of you say your goodbyes. You’d likely see Laswell again, and soon, but he knows after three months you’ll have bonded with her just a bit.

Price leads Laswell to his office after she leaves your room, his ears picking up the sound of the lock clicking into place as they walk away. He’d left it on for a reason, wanting to give you the ability to feel safe and secure as you adjusted, even though you had nothing to worry about.

“So.” Price says as he sits behind his desk, reclining back in his seat. “What can you really tell me about her?”

Laswell gives him a knowing look. “The CIA has had their eyes on her for years now. The Omega Initiative as it is now, isn’t how it started. They were going to train omegas as agents, and she was one of the first names on that list. They had FIOT put a hold on her file once she came of age.”

Federal Institute of Omega Training. The name was stamped on the front of your file. It was the highest rated institute in America, the place where most omegas born to politicians, government workers, and some military went.

“They had agents go in and pretend to be interested parties just to make it seem like there was interest in her.” Laswell continues. “But, you know omegas aren’t cut out for this kind of work, so they changed the Initiative. She was still at the top of the list, but there were some...hesitations as to where to place her.”

“What sort of hesitations?” He asks.

“You saw those scores, John. She’s a good omega. Those purebred instincts are strong, and that makes her an easy target.”

Most omegas born from an alpha/omega pairing were good at listening to their instincts. That was why they carried such a high standing, even among omegas. But, being so closely intune with their instincts made them more sensitive, more vulnerable. They were more likely to give in to an alpha, if the alpha knew how to play them right.

Laswell pulls a file from her bag, sliding it across his desk to him. “She’d get walked all over in a larger pack, and the last thing she needs is to get hurt by an overbearing alpha.” There’s something hidden in Laswell’s words, his mind filing that away for later. “I need someone I can trust with her. She’s smart, learns fast. She needs a challenge, but also someone that won’t take advantage of her.”

“It sounds like you’ve grown rather fond of her.” He says, flipping open the first page of the file. It’s the CIA’s data on her, everything they’d done in the last three months to prepare her for her life as a Special Operations pack omega.

“Like I said, I’m the one that picked her for your team.” Laswell leans forward against his desk. “She knows what she’s in for. She was well prepared for this kind of life. She’ll let you mark her, no questions asked because that’s what she’s been told to do. She’s obedient, John, almost to a fault.”

“That could be dangerous.” Price says.

“Yes, it could.” Laswell says. “I’m leaving her in your capable hands. She has my number, and so do you.”

Price walks her back to the airfield, his head reeling a bit as he replays their conversation over and over. The hidden messages in Laswell’s words aren’t lost on him, and his gut feeling that something else was going on had been correct.

“Take care of her, John.” Laswell says. “I’m putting a lot of trust in you.”

He hasn’t failed her yet.

Your body is tingling. You’re not sure if it’s nerves or something else. You haven’t been around an alpha since the day of your presentation, when you had been pulled from your home and taken to the institute. You had nearly wanted to keel over when you came face to face with Captain Price. Your alpha. He’s a commanding presence, the tickling at the back of your neck still not quite gone even though the door is shut and locked.

The bed is comfortable, not any worse than what you slept on in the institute. There’s extra pillows and blankets stacked at the end, likely for your nest when you finally settled enough to make one. The door to the private bathroom is cracked open, facing the end of the bed. There’s four shirts on the desk next under the window next to the bathroom door, and your bags are sitting in front of the dresser and closet situated on the opposite wall from the bed.

You push yourself to stand, ignoring the way your legs wobble as you stare down at the four shirts on the desk. They’re all olive green, folded neatly in the exact same way. You wouldn’t have known any different, except for the scents gently wafting from them, and the names on the tags.

Price. You pick up the one that will be the most familiar, bringing it to your nose. Tobacco smoke, aftershave, something sharp like whiskey. All things you had scented on him in your short time together. Underneath you catch a whiff of his natural scent. Something woody, fresh. A tingle crawls up your spine, prickling in the back of your neck again. You drop the shirt on the desk, taking a step back to breathe in the unscented air for a moment.

You’re breathing heavily as you go for the shirt next to Price’s. Garrick. You press the shirt against your nose, inhaling. Aftershave, different from Price’s. Some kind of lotion. Coconut oil maybe? You can’t pick up more than the base scent of beta, the soothing almondy scent.

You take another deep inhale of it, letting the beta scent ease you before you let it drop to the desk beside Price’s. You grab the one next to it, looking at the tag. MacTavish. You lift it to your face, scenting another aftershave. There’s something citrusy mixed in as well, slightly watered down compared to the scent of the aftershave. Again, you can’t pick up more than the scent of beta, letting it ease the tickling on the back of your neck again before you let it drop back on the desk.

One more to go.

You pick up the last shirt. Ghost. The faceless one. You bring the shirt to your nose, wincing slightly at the sharp tang of gunpowder and metal, smoke and a lingering aftershave. You try to smell deeper, but your nose burns with scent blocker spray. You let out a huff, dropping it back onto the desk.

This Ghost was dedicated to his anonymity.

He’s going to be a problem.

You sink back onto the bed, eyeing the shirts. Your senses have heightened, picking up the scents wafting off of them, mixing in the air. You pick up the sound of boots approaching, three pairs of feet making their way down the hall. You can hear them talking and laughing as they approach. There’s a pause outside your door and you hold your breath, sitting as still as possible.

Of course they can smell you. You had sprayed yourself down with scent blockers before you left the hotel, but it had likely worn off by now. Even with the blocker, the scent of unmated omega wasn’t hidden easily. The entire base had probably caught a whiff of your scent by now. Caramel, vanilla, strawberries with the undertone of pure omega that made alphas go insane.

“Coming, Si?”

Your lungs burn as you hold your breath, and for a moment you’re afraid your heartbeat might be audible from how hard it’s pounding. Steps recede from your door and you don’t breathe until they’ve disappeared.

You decide to unpack to keep your mind busy as you wait. You don’t have much, mostly clothes from the institute and toiletries. You don’t even have a photo of your family, that part of your life behind you. You put your clothes away, venturing into the small bathroom to put away your toiletries. There’s towels already inside, along with a few things like shampoo and soap. They’re all scentless, like the things you had brought from the institute.

Nothing that could dampen your natural scent.

You almost don’t hear the knock on the door, lost in your own thoughts. You take a steadying breath, hand hesitating over the lock. What if it wasn’t Price? What if it wasn’t anyone from your new pack?

“Just me.” Price’s voice comes through the door.

Of course he would notice your hesitation. He’s a trained soldier, he’s always going to be aware of his surroundings. You unlock the door, opening it slowly.

Price greets you with a small smile, your nose picking up the scent of his aftershave and the lingering scent of tobacco smoke now that you’re attune to it. “They’re ready, if you are.” He says.

You nod. “Yeah, I guess.” It wasn’t like you had much of a choice to say no.

You slip out the door, closing it behind you. You’d ditched your sweatshirt, wearing a scoop-necked shirt to give them easy access for the scenting. Price leads you down the hallway, back towards his office. You’re not quite sure what to expect, the nervous twisting in your stomach coming back.

“I thought we’d do it in a meeting room.” Price says, likely picking up on the change in your scent. “Somewhere neutral.”

It’s smart, it’ll keep you from getting too overwhelmed by other scents or sounds. The last thing you need to do is panic and send them all into a spiral. Talk about a first impression.

Price pauses outside a door, looking down at you. His gaze is kind, almost sympathetic as you take a deep breath. “Ready?”

Not really, but you wouldn’t dare say that. You have to do this, and the sooner you got the awkward part over with, the easier things will get. You nod, hands tugging nervously at the bottom of your shirt. “Yes, sir.”

Price opens the door, stepping in first. You’re glad for the few moments you’re hidden behind him as the scents in the room slam into you. Alpha and two betas, scents you recognize from their shirts. They stand as Price enters, and for a moment you want to stay hidden behind the alpha but you know you have to be brave. You were made for this. The words drilled into your brain over and over again at the institute flash through your brain. You have one job in life and this is it.

You can hold power over them.

The words from the book your bunkmate had smuggled in flash through your mind. “The Powerful Omega”, it had been titled. Authored by a progressive omega, it talked all about how powerful omegas could be, even those forced into traditional roles. You can get them all wrapped around your finger if you wanted to.

You steady your nerves, clenching your hands into fists at your sides and step out from behind Price. Your skin prickles as three sets of eyes are set on you. Price is speaking but you’re not really listening as you take them in. You recognize the two betas from their files.

Gaz, you pick up Price doing introductions, has kind eyes. He’s tall for a beta, almost the same height as Price. He waves to you, offering you a small smile.

Soap is the shortest of the four, more what you would expect from a beta. “Good to meet ya, lass.” He greets you, giving you a charming smile. He’s going to push your boundaries, you can tell.

You’re beginning to see the dynamics already.

“And Ghost.” Price says, your eyes finally moving to the place you’ve been avoiding since you walked in.

All hulking muscle, Ghost seems to take up the entire room. Your heart flutters nervously as you meet his dark gaze, his face hidden by a balaclava with a skull painted on the front. His presence is oppressive, tickling the back of your neck. You’re not sure if you want to run or submit to him, every inch of him screaming alpha.

Price’s hand on your back nearly makes you jump, your gaze finally drawing away from Ghost and back to him. “Come on, take a seat. Tell us about yourself.”

Price sits at the head of the table, Ghost, Soap and Gaz to his left. You take the seat on the right, staring at the other three members of your pack. You jump into your spiel, things that they already knew if they’d read your file. There’s not much else to tell, since everything about you was in that file. That was its purpose, to make you look as appealing as possible to potential alphas and packs.

“What about your family?” Soap asks, the sharp scent of your nervous energy spiking for a moment. “Do you still talk to them?”

You shake your head. “Not for a few years. Institutes don’t really encourage keeping ties with previous packs, but I know there were a few omegas that did. It was hard to keep track of where my family was.”

“Your father was a Marine, correct?” Price, even though they already know the answer.

You nod. “Yes, sir.”

“You lived on base?” He asks.

You nod again. “Yes, sir. We moved a lot, but we lived in pack housing on every base. We were a family pack, and I was number four of eight by the time I presented.”

“When did you get sent to the Institute?” He asks, almost regretting answering it.

It’s a sore subject, he can tell by the change in your face and the slight souring of your scent. “The day after I presented.” You say.

The tension in the room is palpable, Soap and Gaz’s eyes widening in shock as Ghost's shoulders tense just slightly. Price stares at you with a sympathetic look in his eyes. He knew it was likely shortly after, but that soon? Most would wait until the presentation had finished at least, and usually there was some downtime when it came to getting into an institute as well.

“My father was a traditionalist alpha.” You say, something they also knew by your status. It was printed all over your file, squeezed in every place it could be as a reminder of your worth to whomever was reading it. “It was because we were already on base that they got to me so fast.” You explain. “It was my dad’s status in the Marines that got me into FIOT.”

“What was it like, in the institute?” Gaz asks, wanting to change the subject a bit, if only to ease the sourness in your scent.

You huff out a laugh, the corner of your lips lifting in a smile. “Not unlike the military, I think. We had strict schedules we stuck to every day. Everything was dictated for us, what we wore, what we learned, what we did with our free time and how often we got it. Even what we ate was chosen for us. We always had to be ready to be tested at any time, and we were always being observed.”

“Your test scores were high.” Price remarks.

You shrug. “I’m a perfect omega, or so my instructors always said. It comes easily to me. I don’t really have to think much about it.”

“Did you really kneel for two hours straight?” Gaz asks.

You huff out a laugh. “Yeah. There was one day...it was a couple years ago. I don’t know what caused it but there was something in the air. We were all on edge and worked up. The director got tired of us and made us all kneel in the mess hall during our two hour afternoon break. No cushions, no pillows. Just all forty of us, kneeling on the marble floor for two hours. Not everyone could do it. Quite a few got too fidgety, couldn’t handle the pain. Three even passed out.”

“How did you manage it?” Gaz asks.

Price wasn’t a fan of using instinctual habits as punishment. It left a bad taste in his mouth, and he can only imagine what else you could say they forced you to do with such nonchalance.

“To be honest, I don’t remember most of it. I just let my mind go somewhere else and before I knew it the time was up.” You shrug.

“We won’t make you kneel for two hours.” Price says. “And definitely not without a pillow.”

You smile softly. “Thank you, sir.”

Price watches you, the way your eyes dart around the room again, the sour edge of your scent gone, but the tang of anxiety remains. You’ve relaxed some, though, your shoulders are not quite so tense and you’ve stopped picking at your nails.

Ghost has remained silent the entire time you’ve spoken, eyes glued on you. You’ve tried not to look at him, finding your words get stuck in your throat whenever you meet his gaze.

He’s going to be a problem.

“There’s some rules we need to go over before anything else.” Price says. “You have freedom to roam this building as you please, but one of us will escort you if you need to go elsewhere at least until you’ve been marked. There’s other alphas on this base and I don’t want them getting any ideas.”

You knew well enough omegas frequented the barracks on bases often. You don’t want to be mistaken as one. Even with their scents on you, you know that won’t stop some. You’re not even sure a mark will stop them either.

“I want full transparency. If something happens you come to me, or you call Kate if we’re gone. If you need anything too, the same order stands.” You’re beginning to detect the edge to his voice, The Captain slipping through his more casual demeanor. “We have some downtime to adjust for now, but sometimes we may leave for weeks at a time. It will be rough, I won’t lie to you, but Kate pulled some strings and there’s an Omega Specialist that’s been brought in for you. You’ll meet her later, I’m sure she wants to do a full workup.”

You’ve met many Omega Specialists in your time. The beta medical professionals that go through specialized training so they can assist and treat omegas better than regular doctors and medics. Most of them go through a residency at Institutes, studying and practicing on young omegas. The thought of having at least someone who might understand you on a deeper level is comforting.

“I’m starving, let’s get the scenting over with.” Soap nearly whines, rubbing his stomach.

His words strike a chord of nervous energy in you again. You had been prepared many times for the scenting. You’d seen instructional videos and done mock practices with your fellow omegas. Yet you feel like it’s not going to be enough. These were real alphas and betas, your pack. What if you don’t like the way they smell?

What if they don’t like the way you smell?

“If you’re alright with it?” Price says, looking at you.

You’re taken aback by the offer for consent. You weren’t expecting it, as this was something you have to do. What would happen if you said no? Would they respect your boundaries? The fact you had been asked at all is shocking to you. You won’t say no, because you’ll have to do it eventually, and at least this way you’ll be walking around smelling like them. If nothing else, it might make this transition a bit easier.

“Yeah.” You nod, swallowing down your nerves. “I’m okay with it.”

All five of you stand from the table, your stomach churning with nervous energy. You try to clear your head, try to calm yourself so you don’t stink them out with your anxiety. You need your scent to be clear, to be as tantalizing as possible.

“Don’t look so worried, lass.” Soap says as they gather around you. “We won’t bite.” He winks at you playfully.

Your cheeks warm as Price steps up to you. He is right, that would come later. Likely during your first heat when Price would give you his mark and claim you as his. It wasn’t unusual for packs with multiple alphas to let more than one claim an omega, but judging from what you’ve seen of Ghost, you’re not sure that’s going to happen.

He had a right to claim you too, but from the look of it, he was the least excited about your joining their pack.

You tense as Price’s hands settle on your waist, lifting you up so you’re seated on the edge of the table, putting you closer to being eye-to-eye with them. They’re all so big, the natural consequence of genetics and their jobs.

“Ready?”

You turn to look up at Price, close enough you can see the freckles on his nose and the grey in his blue eyes. You nod, pressing your hands into the table as you bare your neck for him. Your heart is fluttering in your chest as he leans in closer, pressing his face against your neck. His beard tickles your skin as he rubs his face against your scent gland, warm breaths fanning against your skin.

He pulls away just slightly, baring his own neck to you. You press forward, gripping the edge of the table as you press your face against his throat. You catch the scents you had picked up on his shirt in your room, the surface level scents that were environmental. You close your eyes, inhaling deeper. Woody. Pine? Spruce? It reminds you of a candle your mother used to burn. There’s another scent, the one that lingers. Petrichor, you think, rubbing your face against his scent gland.

His hand on your side pulls you back from your scent-induced haze, and you force yourself back from him. You take deep breaths of the sterile air in the meeting room, picking up his scent more clearly now as it mixes with the others.

“Good girl.” He says, squeezing your side gently. Something flutters in your stomach at his praise, some deep primal part of your brain preening at the thought of making your alpha proud. “Ghost.” He says, stepping back from you.

You’re snapped back into reality as the hulking alpha steps up towards you, moving almost silently. You try to keep yourself calm as he stalks towards you, his sharp gaze burning into yours.

He’s testing you.

You won’t satisfy him, holding his gaze as he reaches you, his thighs pressing against your knees. One hand comes to rest next to your hip on the table, his body leaning in towards you. You’re enveloped by the black fabric of his sweatshirt as his other hand reaches up to tug his balaclava up. Stubble tickles your skin as he presses his face against your throat, breathing in deeply. He lets out a quiet sound as he scents you, almost akin to a growl.

He shifts his weight, pressing his uncovered scent gland against your face. You close your eyes, inhaling deeply. Gunpowder and metal stings your nose again, along with the scent of his body wash. You press deeper into his throat, seeking out his natural scent. Something deep and musky washes over you, like suede or leather. There’s something fresh in there too, almost like eucalyptus. You press your face closer, inhaling it deeply. Your head spins, and you’re sure your knees would have given out if you hadn’t been sitting.

Something rumbles in Ghost's chest as you scent him in a daze. While all alphas’ scents carried a natural musk, Ghosts seems to shoot directly to some deep part of your brain even Price’s scent hadn’t reached.

You let out a quiet whine as he’s pulled from you, his mask back in place by the time you pry your eyes open. Ghost is leaning back against the wall, eyes back to their icy stare as he watches you. Your head is still spinning as someone steps up next to you, taking Ghost’s place.

“How ya doing?” Gaz asks, eyes assessing you. “Hanging in there?”

You nod, taking a couple deep breaths to try and clear your head.

“You’re halfway there.” He says, leaning in closer. “Got through the hard part.”

His breath fans your neck as he leans in, the familiar scent of beta flooding your senses. He was likely doing it on purpose, trying to calm you after the intensity of being scented by two alphas. You breathe in the almondy scent, relaxing into him as he scents you. Your hands raise, gripping his shoulders as he presses his neck close to your face. You seek out the source of the calming scent, pressing your nose into his scent gland.

You’re drawn from the room and to the time your family took a trip to the beach when your father was stationed in North Carolina. Salty sea air, briney and clean, and something else, something soft. Like the clean linen scented spray your mother used on the laundry. You’re clinging to him, his arms around you as you relax into his scent. The tingling energy that had begun to build up at the proximity to the alphas fades as you melt into the calming energy of the beta in front of you.

“Easy.” He says, his hand on the back of your head as he pulls you away from him. You take a deep breath, trying to clear your head. “Still with us?” He asks, meeting your gaze.

“Yeah.” You say, sounding breathless. You knew scenting could be intense, but you hadn’t expected it to feel quite like this.

“Almost done, hen.” Soap says, taking Gaz’s place in front of you. “Lucky there’s only four of us.”

He’s right, you think as you bear your throat for him. You’re not sure you could have handled it had there been more of them. You already feel like you’re floating, enveloped in so many scents you’re not sure what to do. That tingling has begun at the back of your neck as Soap scents you, your eyes meeting Ghost’s. The look in them has changed, his body poised like he’s ready to strike at a moment’s notice.

Soap pulls back, blocking your view of him as he bears his throat to you. You press your face into his neck, pushing past the scents you knew, and that beta scent, looking for him.

You inhale deeply, the scent of warm spices invading your nose. It smells like the holidays, cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger enveloping you. You can almost taste the apple pie, see the gingerbread houses. You cling to his shirt, holding him against you as you rub your face against his throat.

You’re trembling just slightly as Soap withdraws from your hold. It’s subtle, but to them, highly aware soldiers, it’s likely clear as day. Your skin is buzzing, like the fluorescent lights above you. You can hear it now, the buzz of electricity. Your pupils are blown, the room suddenly clearer and sharper.

“There she is.” The low grumble of Price’s voice begins to pull you from your heightened state, your eyes turning to him as his hand cups your cheek.

You press into the rough palm of his hand, eyes picking up the grey in his beard and hair as he stands in front of you. He’s older than you, they’re all older than you. Older than you, bigger than you, stronger than you. A small tickle of fear begins to itch in the back of your mind, drawing you from your daze.

You’re vulnerable, entirely vulnerable and incapable of defending yourself against them. Forgetting second genders, they’re all much stronger than you, not to mention trained fighters. You’d be fucked if they decided to try anything, if they wanted to do anything. You’d be entirely helpless against them.

They could if they wanted to.

It would be well within their rights. Even though you had just met, even though you bore no claiming mark, there was nothing stopping them. You couldn’t stop them, and no one would help you.

“You hungry, pup?”

Price’s voice cuts through your fearful daze. There’s a slight furrow to his brow, likely picking up the sharp edge seeping into your scent. Omega fear and distress was the one defense nature gave to your kind, aside from the omega itself. It’s a putrid scent meant to ward off alphas and betas. You’ve heard it described as smelling like sulfur, burning coals, gasoline, melting plastic, and sometimes even the ozonic scent that accompanied alphas in a true rage. It was a warning, but it doesn't always work.

Pup. Price called you Pup.

You haven’t been called “pup” since you were a pup. It’s a commonly used nickname for any status. You remember your father calling your older brothers pup, even after they presented. It could be derogatory, but it’s more commonly used affectionately. He’s trying to ease your discomfort, the fear welling up inside you.

The door is open, the fresh air of the hallway watering down the heavy mix of scents that had become trapped in the room. Soap and Gaz have already stepped out, Ghosts hulking figure blocking the doorway for a moment as he follows them, leaving you alone with Price for a moment.

“Alright?” Price asks as your gaze meets his again.

You nod, still leaning into his touch. “Yeah, ‘s a lot.”

“I know.” His thumb strokes your cheek, a knowing glint in his eyes. He leans in closer, lowering his voice. “Don’t tell him I told you this, but Soap nearly passed out when we scented him.”

You cover your mouth to stifle your giggle. It wasn’t unusual for scentings to become so intense that the receiver passes out. You’re sure if there had been more than four in your new pack you would have passed out.

“Come on.” He says, wrapping an arm around your waist to lift you off the table and onto unsteady legs. He doesn’t even grunt with the effort, moving you easily. The thought sends a shiver down your spine, but it’s not entirely one of fear.

His hand is warm on your back as he leads you out of the room, the clean air in the hallway clearing your head further. Most bases have circulating air systems, constantly filtering out scents to keep things as neutral as possible. They’re less effective in smaller areas though, especially after scents were intentionally projected. Most military members wore scent blockers, at least while performing their duties. You remember your father coming home at the end of the day with the dull burn of scent blocker still on his clothes.

Your head is still spinning a bit as you follow them out of the barracks and towards the mess hall. They seem to almost walk in a formation, though you suppose with years of having it drilled in your head, it’s almost second nature. You’re sandwiched between Soap and Gaz in the middle, Price in front and Ghost bringing up the rear.

The other personnel on the base give your group a wide berth, and even in the mess you can feel the glances, but none of the stares linger. Price guides you next to him as you get your food, adding things to your tray for you. That tickling feeling starts again at the back of your neck as he makes your plate, your omega preening happily at the knowledge of what he’s doing.

He’s proving his ability as a provider.

In more primordial times he might have gone out and hunted for food to bring back to you to prove his capabilities. Even in more modern times, he might have hunted as some alphas still did, or he would have gone to the store to keep the fridge stocked full of food. Alphas are good at adapting to their surroundings and situations. He’s proving his capabilities in the way he can.

You’re also silently grateful to not have to think too hard about the choices in front of you. Even after a week, British food is still a bit unfamiliar to you. It’s not entirely indiscernible, though, and you’re sure you could pick out things that sounded good if you had to. At this moment, though, with your head still reeling a bit and the unsettling energy of a new place filled with unknown alphas and betas, you’re happy to let Price do it for you.

He carries your tray and his to a table, sitting you next to him. Gaz takes your other side, Soap and Ghost sitting across from you. The choices in their seating arrangement don’t feel quite so random to you, and you quickly realize the arrangement is similar to the room setup in the barracks.

A beta for each alpha, you think. Gaz and Price. Soap and Ghost.

Then there’s you, stuck somewhere in the middle of them. Somehow you’ll fit between them, squeezing into their perfect dynamic. Omegas are supposed to help balance packs, but as you sit with the four members of your new pack, you can’t help but feel like you’re only going to make things more difficult.

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I'm willing to put together a taglist if people are interested...

#call of duty #call of duty fanfic #141 x reader #task force 141 #task force 141 x reader #cod x reader #captain price x reader #john price x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #soap x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #a/b/o

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