#height difference wrong but i realise that now

[konohamaru-sensei]

Congrats on the dual milestones Nisi! You def deserve all the love! You’re a brilliant writer, a wonderful artist and a good pal to boot! A true triple threat !! ✨For the request I was thinking maybe Sayuri and Satoru from your Courtesan Au with either one of these refs— or whatever else inspires you! Cheers to you and many more milestones to come!! <33 X (For this ref I was thinking the larger full fig. image —all the way to the right—with her hand pushing his chest, all flustered and looking away)  Or!  XX

Why not both?

[emptyjunior]

Enough random notes that have a written story on them as environmental storytelling, explore the space, get crazier with it.

You move into a house and aw cute, it has the kids height on the walls but you notice there's a three foot difference in height between measurements, you check the date, they're a month apart. The final measurement is on the ceiling. It's dated two days ago.

You're part of a recovery team that have finally found a stranded ship, they were found too late and have all passed a long time ago. They all died of starvation. You enter their storeroom, it's filled with food. In the dining hall you find the tables laden with perfectly fine looking breads, cakes, cured meats, jams, candies. Your medic says all the people sitting at the table didn't eat a Thing.

You wake up in an apocalypse. You can't find anyone at all as you wander the streets but you do hear faint music playing from somewhere. You stumble into a supermarket, to see all the aisles still full, except for the shelf that was full of ear plugs, which look to be the only thing that was looted.

Like there's light, sound, props. Having a street where every house is decimated except for One. Landing on a planet known for having No Water and a plant is growing and you don't know where it could have possibly gotten moisture from but you can't find the citizens Anywhere.

I'm sorry, I'm just kinda over the "graffiti on the wall to show the bad guy is around". That's not environmental storytelling that's just normal story. Show me I'm in the villains territory by the rain suddenly cutting out above me as I'm driving, even though it's meant to be raining all night. I park the car and step out, and realise the constellations are Wrong, until I see they're Not constellations, they're the blinking lights of a massive ship-

I Will stop now because everytime I go to write a sentence it devolves into another prompt but I'm just saying we have a Lot of senses, engage them, show me the Environment in environmental storytelling.

[mapis-putellas]

Flu shots

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x reader

Words: 2100

Warnings: needles

Summary: Alexia Putellas; two time Ballon D’Or winner and le reina of football was not scared of anything. Not the dark. Bugs. Clowns. Heights. Not even spiders. Or well, that’s what you thought. It was only when the barça squad have to get their flu shots do you realise there is something she’s scared of after all.

Notes: I might have to start writing every other day because this took like four hours bro.

[prompts]

Alexia Putellas; two time Ballon D'Or winner and le reina of football was not scared of anything. Not the dark. Bugs. Clowns. Heights. Not even spiders. Or well, that's what you thought considering she'd told you no different. It was only on a random Thursday during the month of October when the team were told they all had to get their flu shots the next day do you realise that maybe that wasn't the case after all.

Though her face remains as stoic as ever upon being told, you see the way her jaw tenses; the way her hands tighten around the edge of her seat. Your immediate response was to reach for her. To pull her into a hug or take her hand, but neither you or Alexia were fond of any sort of PDA outside your home so you were forced to simply watch her try and pretend nothing was wrong.

When you had gotten into the car, a part of you had admittedly wanted to question her. To ask if it was needles that she was afraid of or something else entirely. Not in a way that would make her uncomfortable, but to simply understand just what was going on through her head so you could do your best to reassure her.

You choose to remain silent however, because Alexia was notorious for denying any and all negative feelings she had and the last thing you wanted was for her to lie to you.

Instead, you simply reach over the console and take her hand in your own, feeling the way she squeezes tightly before settling on trailing the pad of her thumb over the back of your hand. The drive home was silent, and not much was spoken from beyond that point either. You did, however, make sure you were the big spoon that night, holding her as tightly as you could.

Alexia was definitely much stronger than you, but there was only a few inches between your heights allowing you to hold her throughout the entirety of the night without getting uncomfortable. Surprisingly, she was still in your arms when you wake up the next morning, although now she was facing you and curled up against your chest.

Her face was half buried against your chest, her leg thrown over your hip as her hands cling to the material of your shirt. Her breathing was soft, her quiet exhales seeping through the material of your shirt and hitting your bare skin. 

Waking up before her was not a common occurrence despite very much wanting it to be, so you make an effort to be as gentle as you can as you reach your free hand out to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Alexia does no more than scrunch up her nose, and you can't help but quirk your lips up into a tender smile as you place a delicate kiss to her forehead.

This, unfortunately, does cause her to start waking up, and you wince a little in regret as you watch her eyes slowly flicker open. She lets out a quiet groan at the brightness of the room, tightening her arms around your waist and completely burying her face into your chest.

You feel the way her hands creep up the back of your shirt, resting against the bare skin at the small of your back for a small second before she dips her fingertips just beneath the waistband of your pyjama shorts.

An instinctive shiver flows through you at the action as you reach your own hand up to cup the back of her head. "Good morning, baby." You greet, determined to be extra gentle with her today.

At the sound of your voice, Alexia tilts her head back, heavy lids blinking tiredly as she puckers her lips. You kiss them gently. Not once, or twice, but three times before Alexia hums in content and nuzzles her face back into your chest. You tighten your grasp around her, grazing gentle circles across the length of her back as she dozes in and out of sleep.

Eventually, however, it soon becomes time to get up and face the day. Despite the fact you usually shower together to save both time and water, Alexia requests to shower by herself today which of course you encourage her to do without question.

Whilst it wasn't rare for Alexia to shower by herself, it wasn't exactly a common occurrence either. The shower was her thinking space. The place she could let her defences down without fearing anyone would see or judge. Allowing you in there with her was exposing in both senses of the word, because not only do you see her, but you also see her. She often reverts back into old habits when she’s stressed or anxious, and getting a flu shot when you’re terrified of needles would definitely make her feel both of those emotions.

To save time, you head through to the guest bathroom to have quick body shower, forgoing washing your hair until tonight when you and Alexia would inevitably shower together. When you make it back to your shared bedroom dressed a simple jeans and T-shirt, you see Alexia sat on the edge of your bed with her head in her hands. She too was dressed, clad in a pair of black shorts along with a grey zip up hoodie.

Immediately, you were concerned, feeling that familiar tug in your chest that always seems to appear whenever you see Alexia upset. You make your way over to her, gently nudging her elbows off of her knees before easing yourself onto her lap. She avoids eye contact by immediately hiding her face in your neck, her arms looping tightly around your waist as your own settle around her shoulders.

"I think I know why you're upset," you murmur after a few moments of silence, cupping the back of her head and grazing the pad of your thumb against her scalp. Alexia immediately goes ridged beneath you, but due to your position on top of her, she was forced to remain still and not bolt. "It's okay, ale. I promise. I'll be with you the entire time."

Alexia says nothing, and you highly suspect your words had gone through one ear and out the other.

"I'll hold you through it, if that would make you feel better?" You offer a few moments later.

Alexia peeks up at you, cheeks shiny with the residue of her tears. "Qué?"

You cup her face and gently wipe them away before pressing your lips against her forehead. "On my lap, like this. No one would ever know. It'll just be between us." You offer.

Alexia looks visibly embarrassed at even the suggestion of allowing someone she doesn't know to see her in such a vulnerable state, but at this point, you don't really see any other choice. If you left to her own devices, you were pretty sure she wouldn't even leave the house.

"Amor..." she trails off unsurely, and you're quick to try and sooth her by gently resting your forehead against her own. Your hands rise to once again cup her cheeks, delicately trailing your thumbs over the warm skin.

"I know," you murmur in understanding. "It's just a suggestion, ale. I promise you the nurse is not going to care. They're there to do a job, not to ask questions." 

Alexia sniffles as another tear streams down her cheek, "I just wish...no estaba tan asustada." She whispers, and you're immediately forced to swallow the tightness in your own throat as you cup the back of her head and coax her back to your chest.

"I know, baby. I know. But it's okay to be scared. Even of something that feels as silly as this. You know I won't ever judge you. Neither will anyone else."

Deep down, Alexia knows you're right, but she just can't fathom the thought of a needle being in the same room as her let alone one being injected into her body. She finds herself shuddering at thought, skin rising with goosebumps that were thankfully hidden beneath the material of her hoodie.

"I know it doesn't seem like it now, but I promise you'll be okay my love. I've got you."

"Always?"

Always."

*

"Baby, you're gonna wear a hole in the floor." You warn lightly as you watch Alexia pace back and forth, your elbows on your knees and your chin resting in the palm of your hand.

You'd been at the doctors office for not even ten minutes, seated in a private room for which you were thankful. Despite encouraging her to sit multiple times, Alexia had done everything but. In fact, you were pretty sure she was becoming dangerously close to running.

To prevent her from doing so, on her next lap of the room, you reach out and grasp a handful of her shirt before tugging backwards onto your lap. She yelps in surprise as she lands, your arms looping tightly around her waist and holding her back flush to your front. Her feet hang a few inches from the floor, and you allow her to gently kick the heels of her feet against your shins to get all that anxious energy out.

"Relax, darling. Let's take some breaths, yeah?" You murmur into her ear.

Alexia clutches the hands on her stomach as she complies, taking a big breath in through her mouth and exhaling out of her nose.

"Again." You encourage, and Alexia complies, her eyes darting nervously around the room.

"Once more," she does, her head coming to rest against your shoulder. You press your lips against her cheek as you tighten your grasp around her. "Good girl. Now relax, okay? I've got you." You whisper, and Alexia takes one last deep breath before she stills in your arms.

Well, that was until the door opens. At the sound of it, Alexia immediately tries darting out of your arms. Due to your tight grip, she was not successful and the panicked whimper that escapes her lips does not go amiss.

"Hey, hey, ale, it's okay." you attempt to sooth as the nurse greets the both of you, pushing a metal trolley that held two flu shots. You wince at the sight, but Alexia only becomes more panicked.

"No, no por favor. No quiero." Her voice cracks, hands desperately prying at your own still clasped against her stomach.

"I know, I know. It's okay." Thankful over the fact you'd gotten her to take her hoodie off whilst you were in the car, you make eye contact with the nurse before silently gesturing to one of Alexia's arms. You receive a subtle nod in response, allowing you to bring your attention back to your upset girlfriend.

As her desperation grows, you're forced to pin her arms to her chest before wrapping your own around them. She wasn’t fighting you much now, but she was clearly still very upset.

"Alexia? Alexia, hey, look at me. Look at me." You bounce her on your lap slightly to get her attention, the blonde letting out a soft sob as she throws her head back against your shoulder.

"There we go, good girl. Take a deep breath for me, my love. As deep as you can."

Alexia shakes her head, eyes stubbornly screwed shut.

"Deep breaths, baby," you kiss her wet cheek. "Remember? I've got you. I've got you." You nod to give the nurse the go ahead, her gloved hand reaching over to clean the area on Alexia's arm with an alcohol wipe.

Alexia violently startles, but before she could yank herself away, the nurse squeezes her arm and quickly  gives her the shot. It happens in less than two seconds, not giving Alexia chance to work herself up further.

"All done, baby. It's over." You release her arms, shifting her on your lap slightly so she was sat sideways before pulling her into a tight hug. She lets out a deep, body shuddering sigh of relief as she hooks her arms around your shoulders and burrows her face into your neck, the tears of relief now falling down her face hitting your skin.

The feeling of the cold wipe against your bicep suddenly reminds you that you're here for a shot too, and you make an effort of relaxing your arm slightly so it wouldn't be as painful.

"I'm so proud of you." You whisper into her ear, and Alexia presses a gentle kiss to your neck in response.

**

Tags:

@simp4panos @goldenempyrean @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @marysfics @liloandstitchstan

[garoujo]

hiiiii !!! what are your thoughts on reader bumping into ex!gojo at a party, after not having seen him for years? his unboxing has taken a toll on me i’m patiently waiting for anyone to write fics for him 🤸🏻��♀️

✩ ˛˚ . GOJO SATORU — you don’t realise how much your heart still calls for your ex until you see him again, years later.

ஜ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ contents! sort of angsty but mostly fluff! ex!boyfie gojo, ex’s to lovers sort of vibe, very much right person wrong time ♡ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ note! i’m so sorry this took me so long to get to nonnie, i’m also sorry this turned out sad snifle! i wrote it to this song so i blame that! i’m sorry i just had to post for him tonite!

maybe you should’ve just stayed at home, you think despite the way you know you don’t mean it, as you let the drink in your hand swirl around it’s cup a few more minutes longer. it’s lost its bubbles slightly, it’s leaning more towards an hour old— still untouched as you lean yourself against the kitchen counter while your friends catch up around you.

it’s been a while since you’ve seen everyone like this, a few years atleast you’d assume and it was fun, recalling back the memories— the drunken nights and the time you spent together, the seasons you experienced. there’s a sentimental sort of feeling to it all, you realise.

everyone’s different now, not only in looks— in spirit maybe, married and settled down, running their own business or jet setting abroad. your childhood bestfriend is taller, she smiles softer now— maybe it’s the ring on her finger or the love in her life. it suits her.

“hey! you still with us?” she calls to you, just as you hear the apartment door close again— alerting you to more guests despite the way there’s probably around fifteen of you here already. you jolt slightly, sending her a smile before you’re placing down your glass and excusing yourself to the bathroom.

you allow yourself a few breaths to relax before you smile at yourself in the mirror, it’s nice being able to see everyone again— not realising how much you’d missed them and suddenly you realise that you’re so happy to have lived.

you pat yourself on the cheeks as you give yourself a silent little nod, soft sort of smile in place as you push your way through the bathroom door again— maybe a little too determined to seize the night when you send yourself into a hard chest as you clumsily leave the room.

“ah! sorry, are you okay?” you begin as you try to steady yourself but there’s hands there to keep you from falling before you even realise you’re on your way down.

“oh? it’s been so long you’re jumping into my arms already?” familiar, you think as the teasing response sounds smoothly and you can’t help the way your body seems to stiffen at the sound— like instinct. you look up and there’s a warm sort of squeeze on your heart at the crystalline gaze that looks back, cheeky grin in place.

you should’ve expected to see him here after all, gojo satoru had always been a constant in your past, up until a few years ago. he was your now ex-boyfriend after all.

he always had this air that seemed to follow him around — this noble sort of presence but he was even more handsome now, unfortunately. he’d grown a little more in height but he filled it out better now. his hair is longer but his gaze is just as pretty, as breathtaking when it meets yours.

you’re pretty sure if this were a movie there’d be a trail of women at gojo’s feet — back of their hand against their forehead and fawning for his attention.

you can still recall the nights you cried on your kitchen floor for him.

“hey, after all these years, you’re getting shy on me?” you didn’t realise you’d zoned out until you blink up to see gojo looking at you, teasing tone and his long fingers flicking gently at your forehead until you’re sending him a cute frown. he remembers that look all too well.

“no, shutup! i just didnt expect to see you.” you fall back into the dynamic quickly, like he’d never left— both of you parted ways gradually you think. it’s not that the love wasn’t there, but you just felt like your life had taken you down separate paths.

gojo satoru was your right person, wrong time is what you’d tell strangers at parties.

“are you sure? it seems you had an attack planned for my arrival, pretty suspicious i’d say.” he goads, teasing you again and you roll your eyes before you’re shoving playfully at his chest.

“you’re still so annoying.”

“hm? are you just embarrassed i figured you out? did you really think you could catch me off guard with a move like that?” you wish you could say you hate gojo, truly. but it’s been years and instead you realise that it’s quite the opposite, because he’s already got you laughing like you’re both teenagers again.

sometimes you wish you’d known him sooner, even just so you could love him longer than you can now.

“yeah right, i could totally beat you if i tried.” you laugh again, teasing as a cheeky grin settles on your expression and gojo squeezes at your shoulder playfully before you’re both finding yourself returning to the group. but the laughter doesn’t falter.

“you want a beer, satoru?” your friend asks as you both enter the lounge and you cast the snowy haired man to your right a glance before he answers. he won’t take one, he never was a drinker.

“nah, aren’t i fun enough already? it wouldn’t be fair.” he jokes, you all laugh. like old times.

the night continues and you catch yourself looking in your ex boyfriends.. in gojo’s direction a little more frequently than you’d like to admit. but you’re having fun, you realise as you all exchange jokes— even going as far as to pull up videos from your old phones, little vlogs from your days at the beach, shopping trips and more.

you breathe again, nestling back into your place on the couch as the rest of your friends get up to dance to one of your old playlists from a few years ago. you remember it well, like the soundtrack to some coming of age movie.

you allow yourself to look at him once more, to take in the cut of his features— the way his lips still upturn at the corners when he grins and the way he still talks with his hands. you think it’s cute that he still wears his hair down, still doesn’t do the top button of his shirts— you wonder if he still takes four sugars in his coffee.

you feel something twist in your chest with the thought before you look away again. you think it’s embarrassing in a way, the way you’re wanting must show when you look at him. maybe it’s because you already know the feel of his hand on yours or the soft voice he’d always use to call you out of sleep, the taste of his coffee on his lips when he’d kiss you as the sun woke up.

you liked the now, but then you remember how gojo satoru loved you and it’s like you’re aching all over again.

you breathe deep before the couch cushion to your left sinks as someone sits down and you know it’s him when it grounds you.

“you’re not dancing, gojo?” you begin before he can say anything, giggle despite the turmoil in your mind, your heart, and he sends you a soft sort of look before he chuckles.

“oh no, after all those times you told me i was a terrible dancer? it broke my heart so much, i’ll never dance again.” still a drama queen, you think to yourself as you watch him press his palm to his chest — throwing his head back against the back of the couch as he sighs.

“yeah right, you had a great dance partner to level you out back then though.” gojo laughs at that one, nudging his thigh into yours slightly when he does, but neither of you seem to pull away at the touch.

he settles down and you let the silence hang in the space where you both take a breath before he speaks again,

“satoru is fine, you know. i was always satoru to you, no?” gojo questions gently, although still trying to make it more lighthearted than awkward, and you feel the tension leave your shoulders when you exhale.

“okay then, satoru.” comes more naturally than you’d like to admit, but you’re not ashamed of it either when you notice the soft sort of glow in gojo’s eyes when you speak it with fondness.

he looks at you, nods like he’s smug, then pushes himself up to stand. emphasising how tall he is as he sends you a cheeky sort of grin, followed by his arm outstretching to offer you his hand.

“well oh great dance partner, i may need your expertise. you wouldn’t want me to embarrass my handsome self infront of all our old friends, would you?” gojo whines playfully as he bows towards you, free hand on his heart like he’s begging you for his life.. just his pride this time though.

“‘toru..” you begin, a soft sort of breathe and you wonder if he can hear the hope in it— your own hand twitching by your side.

“come on, for old times sake. you said it yourself, i cant dance without my partner there to lead me, right?” gojo satoru had always been terribly convincing, you realise as you recall all the other moments he’d whisked you off into other great things. memories that you still look fondly back on now.

“fine, for old times sake, satoru.” you finally answer before your hand is resting on his, noticing that is palm still feels warm when he pulls you to your feet.

for the love that once was, and the love that remains. 

© 2023 GAROUJO. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[sunlightmurdock]

Ashes, Ashes | One | Bradley Bradshaw

masterlist | prologue | next chapter

Synopsis: In which Maverick didn’t make it home after the Uranium mission. He’s missing, presumed dead. There are things that have to be done — someone has to take care of the house, the bills.

So, Maverick’s daughter is back in Fightertown for the first time since she was in elementary school. There’s a gaping hole in both of their lives now, and somehow, the world’s supposed to just keep on turning without him.

Warnings: bradley bradshaw x minimally descriptive oc avery mitchell, age gap (23/33), smut, angst, hurt / comfort, mentions of character death, mourning, military inaccuracies. This entire fic and my blog is an 18+ space, minors do not interact. Do not repost.

…

Crossing the threshold into Maverick’s home doesn’t come naturally to either one of them. This place is something that they had both left behind. Outgrown. It’s solely his. It’s not their home and it has never been, until now. Now, Avery, at least, is stuck here until things are figured out.

On that fourteen hour drive down to San Diego, she’d had a lot of time to think. How long is a person supposed to wait for a body to turn up before they go ahead and throw the funeral without it?

Three paces into the hallway, brown wood floors and white walls, she is met with a smiling family picture. Only, she’s not in it. 

Because, it’s not a picture of Pete’s family. Pete doesn’t have a family. Pete Mitchell has a daughter from a one night stand with a married woman.

This picture is of a real family. Hung on the wall opposite the front door is a picture of Nick and Carole Bradshaw holding their infant son. He’s bald and gummy. They’re grinning and showing him off like a prize trophy — so proud of him even though all he did in those days was drool and pee himself. 

These days, their infant son is up to more important things. Their infant son grew to an upsettingly grand height and is carrying two of her bags in one hand behind her today.

“C’mon, Mitchell — these are heavy.” Bradley huffs softly from behind her, reminding her that she’s standing stationary and blocking his path. 

The nickname stings. Avery’s last name isn’t Mitchell because her biological father had wanted it to be. It’s Mitchell solely because her mother’s husband knew she wasn’t his and would rather die before letting her take his name.

She shrugs her duffel bag closer to her body and turns left. Bradley huffs under the weight of her luggage, watching her walk her cute butt in completely the wrong direction. “Wait, where are you going?”

Not struggling at all under the weight of her single duffel bag, she turns slowly to face him and frowns slightly. “My room.” 

Avery doesn’t remember Bradley. Not in her own memories, anyway. She knows he was around, she’s seen him in pictures but the image in her head doesn’t match. Not quite right. Like puzzle pieces bent and forced together.

He’s taller than he looked at his high school graduation, which sits pictured and framed above Mav’s mantle. Older, but that’s to be expected. Up close, he looks more like his mother than his father. A slight bump in his nose and scars, nicely healed, but jagged and raised nonetheless dusted his cheek and his throat. 

Even with all those differences, there’s a very slight familiarity to him that makes this all feel a little bit less suffocating.

Bradley’s brows draw together. He gives a small nod in the direction of the spare room. “That’s… I usually stayed in that room.”

“Oh.” Avery realises with a hum. With Bradley being ten years your senior, the room was his long before it was hers. With him growing up so close by, it was probably his much more frequently than it was hers, too. It’s not like she had ever kept anything here anyway. It’s just a guest room that she would occupy every now and again.

There’s a brief quiet between the two of them. 

“I just figured you could take the big room. ‘Til you get settled. I’ll go home once your car is fixed, if that’s what you want.” Bradley adds on. That sad little look on her face, right in front of him, is killing him. 

The big room. The loft room upstairs. Avery thinks about it and finds herself pretty sure that she’s never even been upstairs in this house.

“You’re staying too?” 

Oh. Yeah. He hadn’t addressed that point yet. Truthfully, he hadn’t even been planning to stay. He hasn’t even packed an overnight bag. But, from the second that she had stepped out of the car and looked up at the house with that look on her face, he hadn’t even considered leaving her here alone.

“Just ‘til we get your car fixed,” He offers with a small shrug. “I’ll be here to run you around until then.”

Like he’s doing this for her sake. Natasha has her own life to get back to and Bradley can’t stand the thought of going back to his apartment alone. 

“Okay,” Avery agrees, turning to peer down the hall towards the spare room. It’s nothing special — it really never felt like hers, anyway. “Alright, I’ll take Pete’s room.”

Pete. She calls Maverick ‘Pete’ now. 

Bradley just nods, shifting the weight of her bags and nodding for her to head for the stairs. All the floors in this house are tan oak. The entryway is now herringbone. With the help of a friend, Pete had done the entire thing himself. 

Of course, as they walk silently across it, neither one of them would know that. Neither one of them was speaking to him last May, which was why he had needed a project in the first place.

Natasha’s outside on the phone. Bradley’s footsteps thud on the wood of the stairs behind her, following her up. She stops at the top, leaving just enough room for Bradley to stand there behind her.

The door to Maverick’s room is open. His bed is made. There’s a book thrown on top of it, the spine cracked and used, the pages yellow from years out in the sun.

“No way is he still trying to fucking finish War and Peace.” Bradley steps around her and heads straight for the book. Pete started this book before Bradley finished elementary school. Bradley twists and looks back at her. “He always gets bored and stops reading, then forgets his page and starts again.”

Another slow nod. One foot in front of the other, her shoes along the tan oak floors. Her fingers trail the white walls. Maverick wouldn’t have minded. This place was always messy before. It’s not now. 

This house is vacant and quiet, but it’s far from empty. It’s filled to the brim, practically pulling apart at the seams with everything that Maverick was and planned to be. He was finishing War and Peace — he made it to chapter 253 this time; further than he had ever made it before. 

Suddenly, Avery’s throat is thick with the knowledge that all she knew Maverick to be, is now all that he’ll ever be. An absent father, a fantastic pilot, a lousy cook. A thousand more things that she’ll never know.

Four days of knowing, a fourteen hour drive down here, and it’s a book that stings like a cold slap to the face, reminding her of why exactly it is that she’s here.

Fire burns behind her eyes, blistering and stinging as Bradley sets her bags on the floor with a soft thud.

He turns with his attention completely on the book, his fingers extending towards the peeling cover of the paperback. His fingers curl around its weathered pages and he lifts it tenderly, examining the front at first.

It’s too early to start this process bawling her eyes out, and Avery refuses to let Russian Literature be your downfall, again.

That thick feeling sits in her throat like a stack of weights as she sits down on the end of Maverick’s bed. The mattress is soft, taking her weight without a squeak of complaint. Maybe he finally listened to her and got a bed that wasn’t so harsh on his back.

It’s been almost two years since she had even set foot in this house last. If she had known that Maverick was going to be gone this soon… she sits and thinks to herself about if she would have maybe visited more. Probably not.

“I’ll change the sheets and stuff, then I’ll get out of your hair for a bit.”

Lifting her head, she blinks at him. He has already started to pull back the comforter and strip the bottom sheet from the bed, awkwardly forcing her onto her feet again. 

Mobile once more, Avery turns slowly to take in her surroundings. This is Maverick’s room. It’s his house, she was prepared for that much — but this is his room. The last thing she wants is to be alone in it all night.

“Oh. Sure,” She nods, setting into motion to help take the sheets off.

He’s so methodical about it, like none of this phases him at all. But then, she hasn’t seen how he has been for the past few days.

“I was thinking of just ordering food tonight, since I’m kinda tired — and Pete never had groceries. Would you want… to maybe join?”

“Sure.” Bradley nods, tugging the pillows out of the cases. He glances up to her with a strictly polite, neutral smile. Quiet settles between the two of them until the bed is just a bare mattress and uncovered pillows. 

Then, there’s a moment of total stillness between the two of them. Her gaze flickers up, meeting his, and the realization settles between the two of them.

Maverick’s favourite cologne was a French thing that some woman in the eighties had liked. Citrus in the shade of cypress wood. The scent fills the room like he’s standing between the two of them.

Bradley glances down at the white sheets in his hands. The snowy white peaks of those mountains, Maverick’s aircraft spiralling into them, engulfed in flames. In a sick way, Bradley hopes that he didn’t manage to eject. At least then, it would have been instant. Maverick wouldn’t have felt anything.

Avery watches his adam’s apple bob in his throat from the other side of the bed. The last you had heard, Mav and Bradley weren’t on speaking terms. She wonders if this is as weird for him as it is for you.

“I’ll put these in the washer. You can… unpack, or whatever.” He decides finally, already taking one step backwards, headed for the door. She stands there, blinking at him. Even with those steeped, broad shoulders, he makes it through the doorframe unscathed before he turns to check where he’s going.

He probably knows this house inside and out, just like he knew her dad. Once. 

When it comes to wracking her brain and trying to remember Bradley Bradshaw, Avery can’t ever come up with anything. Maybe a glimpse, here and there. A blue t-shirt with green stripes. His school backpack accidentally left in the backseat of Maverick’s convertible beside her shoddily installed car seat. 

Truthfully, her experience with Bradley Bradshaw is limited. He’s just as real to her as any of the other guys in the stories she grew up hearing about. Her very own Peter Pan is downstairs right now, trying to figure out Maverick’s ancient washing machine, just so that he doesn’t have to stand up here and stare across at her.

He can’t hide from her forever, though. Evening comes, and so does hunger. 

He stares down at the pizza between the two of them as he chews through a bite, brows drawn together slightly. He hates thin crust pizza — it’s the worst kind of pizza. But, when she had suggested it, he had agreed with a tight-lipped smile.

Natasha has gone home. It’s just the two of them, now. Sitting in this unchanged, all too familiar kitchen. Avery has barely unpacked. She set up a couple of things in Maverick’s bathroom, but it doesn’t feel right to be in the big room upstairs. That wasn’t ever her space to claim.

She chews absentmindedly at the bite she had taken. The TV in the living room is off. The record player is coated in a layer of thin dust already. It’s dead quiet. The kitchen light is dim above their heads.

There’s a chip in the corner of the table on Bradley’s side. It’s there because Bradley was running through this kitchen when he was four years old and had tripped and knocked his front tooth out right here. His thumb trails the tiny mark, wondering how his teeth had ever been that small.

Wondering why she isn’t angry with him, too.

Maverick had picked him up that day, turned him around and held Bradley while he cried, stemming the blood and quickly introducing the concept of the tooth fairy. He had done all that he could, and Bradley still found a way to resent him for what had happened to his own father.

Bradley hasn’t ever done a thing for Avery. Except maybe pay for this pizza. And here she is, calm as can be. 

The sauce base feels tangy and coppery, and the cheese makes him want to puke. He sets the slice down on his plate and wipes his hands on the paper towel beside him.

Finally, he lifts his head and looks at her. Her hair is up differently now, tucked out of your way after an afternoon of manual labour upstairs, tidier than it had been earlier. She’s wearing a stretched out old t-shirt. Bradley assumes she got it from a boyfriend.

Really, he doesn’t think she looks that much like her old man. He would really have to search for the resemblance. But, briefly, when she offers him a polite smile across the table, he knows that you’re Mav’s kid.

“I’m sorry.” Bradley blurts out. They both look across at each other, equally surprised that he has spoken.

“…For what?” Avery asks quietly, lips tugging into a small frown.

“I’m sorry that I’m here and he’s not.” He’s just got to say it. He knows she probably wouldn’t bring it up on your own, but there’s a big elephant in this room. Bradley knows what it’s like to sit in her spot, and not know how to talk about it.

It’s his fault that Maverick didn’t make it home.

She stops chewing. That last bite sits in her mouth, doughy and dry all of a sudden. She stares across at him, awkwardly making herself swallow down the last of her bite of pizza and picking up the paper towel to wipe at her mouth.

“We weren’t that close.” She tells him, like that’s supposed to make him feel better. It doesn’t. It’s like a blow to the chest. She’ll never get the opportunity to fix things, because of him.

But, he knows what it’s like to be told how to grieve. He just dips his head and nods awkwardly. “Right.” 

“I got a call from an admiral the other day,” She picks up the slice of pizza and pick at its toppings. There’s no one here now to tell her not to play with your food. Mav never really cared anyway. Bradley watches her, unhungry. “Invited me down to Miramar. He said he was a friend of Mav’s and that he could talk me through… this whole thing. How it works.”

Bradley rubs a hand over the neatly trimmed hair above his lip. It feels like he has swallowed a golf ball, sitting here like it’s normal to be discussing the measures.

He knows how it works. It won’t be as simple as it was with his own father. At least Maverick had afforded him something to bury. For her, there’s nothing.

“I’ll have to be there around eleven.” 

“Sure,” Bradley nods, scratching at the back of his neck. His legs tingle with stiffness. Clearing his throat, he shifts in the little wooden chair and stretches, knocking his foot into hers under the table. “Oh. Sorry. I’m sorry.”

Her teeth press into the inside of your cheek. Maverick hadn’t ever described Bradley as this nervous.

“It’s fine.” She hums, pushing back in her chair and standing up from the table. “Well, I’ve been up since like… four, so I might just hit the hay.”

“Sure.” Bradley breathes out, hands braced on his thighs, eyes focussed on that tiny chip in the corner of the table. “Yeah. Goodnight.”

The downstairs bedroom seemed bigger when he was a kid. The twin-sized bunks on the carrier feel bigger than the wooden-framed bed that Maverick put in here. Bradley’s shoulder is practically hanging off the side, and the old frame creaks with each movement he makes.

It’s not like he would be sleeping much anyway. When he closes his eyes, the only thing he can see is the fireball Maverick’s plane had turned into as it fell.

Bradley’s hunched over the coffee pot by the time that Avery wakes up. He hears her coming down the stairs and straightens up like he wasn’t three seconds from throwing the stupid thing at the wall, clearing his throat and turning around.

It occurs to him that he should have put a shirt on. This isn’t his place. It’s hers, now, he guesses — either way, he hadn’t considered making her uncomfortable. He folds his arms over his naked torso as she strolls into the kitchen, hair mussed and rubbing at her eyes.

She’s wearing big socks and the same big t-shirt she had worn to eat the pizza last night. He can’t tell if she’s wearing shorts or not.

“Morning,” He offers up, making her lift her gaze from busily tapping at her phone. Her gaze lands squarely on his navel — more so, how low his shorts sit on his hips and the way a soft trail of brown hair ventures from there to his bellybutton. 

Blinking, she finds his face.

“Coffee machine’s broken, we can stop somewhere on the way to base if you like.” He leans down a little bit, like an awkward teenager shrinking away from a family picture. She locks her gaze on his, trying not to glance back down at his muscles. 

“Oh. That’s not broken — if you hit it hard enough, it’ll work.” She heads right for him, fuzzy socks padding across the floor so softly that it really does startle him when she grabs the copy of War and Peace that now sits on the kitchen counter, and slam the book right into the side of the coffee machine.

He whips around as the machine whirs to life. Avery the book back down gently, and look up at him. He sets his jaw, brows knitted together, searching her face.

Maverick never taught Bradley anything like that. In fact — Bradley always, always was taught the opposite. You never take the easy way out; if something’s worth fixing, then you fix it right.

Then you, you on the other hand, beat the thing with the heaviest book you can find? He just doesn’t get it.

“Well. Thanks.” He guesses, turning his bemused expression back to the brewing coffee. 

He hadn’t been expecting you to do that. Doesn’t take a genius to figure that out, given the way he’s still glaring at the machine. That coffee pot is older than you are, and Mav never taught him that trick?

“So this guy, the one who called me,” Avery skims her fingers along the cool granite countertop, just to have something to do, “He was the guy calling the shots up there?”

Bradley blinks. He doesn’t know how much she knows about the way all of this works. He knew everything there is to know long before he ever enlisted, but that was because he wanted to know.

“Um,” Bradley grabs his mug and takes a step back for her to get herself one.  “He was our mission command so, kind of. He gives orders — but, y’know, everything happens fast, it’s… it’s hard to call the shots from back on the boat.” 

“Did he like Mav much?” She asks, head tucked inside the fridge door as you scan for anything to make her coffee a little less black. Nothing. A couple of beers and a block of good German cheese. She swings it shut with a resigned sigh, wondering if she’ll be here long enough to need groceries.

The thought flashes across her mind — what’ll happen to this place when she leaves it behind?

“Uh... No, not really.” After a routine training presentation at the very beginning of their attachment, Admiral Simpson had once become so agitated by Maverick that he snapped his own reading glasses in half. Mav got a good laugh out of it, at least.

“Great.” Agitation creeps into her tone as she curls her fingers around a plain white coffee mug. All of his kitchenware is plain white. 

“What?” Bradley tilts his head, trying to catch a glimpse at the look on her face, stuck between whether she’s sad or pissed off.

It’s an easy answer, rolling off of her tongue with a shrug of her shoulders and a deflated sigh. “People usually put us in the same boat — if they don’t like him, they don’t like me.”

That’s something that he thinks he can understand. There’s not an instant dislike, but there’s a pity that he finds in the eyes of people who once knew his father. 

He screws his mouth up, shaking his head and reaching for her without thought. His palm claps against her shoulder, platonic and soothing, but the first time he has touched you nonetheless. “I’ll be there. He won’t say a thing.”

Glancing upward, while his palm lingers on her shoulder, her eyes flit across his features. He doesn’t know quite what she’s searching for, or whether she finds it. His fingers squeeze softly against her skin before the touch is gone all together.

They drink their coffees in parallel, both subtly miserable in their silence but comfortable in it anyway. It’s difficult to prepare for a meeting like this — she doesn’t have a clue of what to expect. 

Bradley wears black jeans and boots with a plain white t-shirt, which convinces her not to wear the more formal dress she had thought she’d have to wear. She slips into his passenger seat in a skirt and Mary Janes.

He drives a loud, blue vintage Bronco. It sparkles inside and out, and makes her dusty old car look even worse. 

Bradley settles behind the wheel to the sound of chilled seventies music, the radio turned low. He drives with three fingers curled around the bottom of the wheel and the other hand resting absently on the stick shift.

Even though he seems calm enough behind the wheel, she watches him chew at the inside of his cheek for the duration of the drive. Gears tick away inside his head. His knee only stops bouncing nervously when it’s time to press his foot against the pedal.

He’s not as good at pretending as he thinks he is; she silently appreciates that he tries, either way.

Bradley, truthfully, spends the entire drive thinking about the last time he was face to face with Admiral Simpson. ‘Son, I’m doing this for you.’ He had sworn, face sullen, uttering the exact same words Pete Mitchell once had when delivering the words that had torn Bradley from him the first time.

Only, Admiral Simpson wasn’t pulling Bradley’s papers — he was just putting him on a month long bereavement leave. His protests had fallen on deaf ears once again, as they had fifteen years ago. He’s now a week into that leave, but it feels like longer.

It turns out that when sleep is cut from the equation, everything feels a lot longer. In his own apartment, his routine has been getting up at 2am after hours of tossing and turning, going for a run all the way down to the docks, coming back and showering, then waiting for the sun to rise.

Last night, he’d been awake in that creaky old twin bed, struck by the realisation that if he spent all night tossing and turning — one, he might actually break the old bed frame, and two, the squeaking of it would definitely keep Avery up. 

All it had taken was the focus of trying to sit still for so long to finally knock him out. It was the best that he’d slept since the mission.

He kind of hopes that it’ll take him a while to figure out something to do with her car; at least that way he’ll be able to sleep at night. 

“You ready?” His voice startles Avery from her daydream, the engine cutting out with a jingle of the keys as he stretches forwards in his seat to shove them into his pocket. “We’re headed just over there.”

“Yeah, let’s get this over with.” She’s stepping down and swinging the heavy door shut before she’s taking her next breath, leaving him to catch up to her. 

His long strides have him at her side before long, reaching ahead of her to pull open the glass door to the post headquarters. 

This process has already been easier with him at her side. He’d coolly handed over his service ID and greeted the guard at the gate by name, and he stops her from turning sharply down the wrong hallway with a soft bump of his shoulder against hers.

He catches her forearm as she tries to blow right past the front desk, his grip loose but firm. 

“Rooster.” The woman behind the desk stands up sharply, looking sharp in her service khakis, her entire face creased with a deep worry. She’s older, maybe around Mav’s age. “I heard, I’m so sorry.”

Rooster loosens his hold on her forearm, his lips flattening into a line. He stands up straight, his interaction with the woman nothing if not totally polite. His thumb trails across the bend of her wrist as he nods his head towards her.

“Thank you,” He says softly, seemingly unaware of the way Avery has stiffened in the presence of this woman. “We’re, uh… we’re just here to see Cyclone, Lynn.”

Her warm, brown eyes whip towards Avery, widening. Recognition floods her features as she pieces together who the girl at Bradley's side must be. 

Her boots hit the ground, Avery's lips parting slightly as she realises that this stranger is headed right for her. Bradley feels Avery's arm tug in his grip and turns his head, taking note of the way she's trying to shrink behind him.

Lynn is a hugger by nature, and she was a good friend of Mav’s for a long time. She means well, but Bradley isn’t going to let her touch Avery when he can see how unnerved it makes her.

“We’re a little late. I’ll catch you at the O-Bar this weekend?” His fingers uncurl from her forearm and his palm falls flat between her shoulder blades, giving her a gentle nudge and silent permission to avoid Lynn's hug.

The woman stops and there’s another polite, departing exchange between the two of them while Avery continues down the hall.

Bradley catches up to her as she raps her knuckles against the doorframe, fingers trembling when they come to settle back against her thighs.

“Miss Mitchell.” A chair scrapes along the tiled floor, Cyclone’s signature rumbling voice carrying out into the hallway. His boots tap across the ground, his face creased with sincerity and his hand outstretched when he notices Bradley standing behind the young woman he had arranged this meeting with. “Bradley Bradshaw.”

Avery checks back over her shoulder, glancing briefly at the man behind her, who has assumed his best bodyguard impression. 

Standing tall, his uniform crisp and his greying black hair combed neatly, Admiral Beau Simpson slips his palm into hers and shakes her hand curtly. The sunlight catches on his shining name badge, his face heavy with lines and sharp angles.

Letting her hand go, he then reaches to her right to shake Bradley’s. Bradley’s chest bumps her back as he leans into the handshake.

Avery steps away from him, angling yourself closer to the doorframe. “He just gave me a ride here. Is it okay if he comes in?”

“Of course,” Cyclone is far more polite to her than he has ever been to Bradley. “Anything you need. Please, take a seat.”

It feels a little bit wrong standing before his boss in jeans, and sitting before him. Everything about this feels a little bit wrong. Bradley rests his chin against his fist.

Avery sits in the chair beside him, shoving your trembling hands under your thighs, straightening up and trying to look as brave as you can. 

It shouldn’t be this stranger sitting beside you in this meeting — your mother should have come with you.

“Miss Mitchell,” The admiral takes his seat on the other side of his desk once again. “I want to first express my deepest condolences. Your father was a good man, and a… extremely skilled pilot.”

Bradley almost scoffs. Even now, Cyclone can’t manage to compliment him, not really.

“We are forever grateful for his service, and the sacrifices he made on behalf of our country. I understand that this is an extremely difficult time, and I’d just like to say that I’m going to personally make sure that this process is as easy as it can possibly be.”

Avery blinks at him. Jet engines rumble on outside of the window. People bustle on outside of the closed office door.

Cyclone glances towards Bradley. 

“When a man is lost in action, our resolve is to initiate a search and rescue effort as soon as possible,” The admiral explains, leaving out the part where that search and rescue effort had been delayed by seventy-two hours after Mav disappeared. “We’ve been working tirelessly, and our efforts to locate your father are ongoing.”

Her brows knit together, lips pursed, unimpressed.

“But— he’s dead.” She frowns abruptly, rendering Cyclone suddenly quiet. “He’s got to be. It’s been a week. No food, no water, sub-zero temperature. What’s the point in looking?”

Bradley grits his teeth. He looks across at her, her words like a jolt of ice-cold water, the muscle in his jaw ticking. There’s nothing in her expression, no fear or sadness. Pete deserved more than that.

“The point is to bring him home.” He bites from her side, staring straight ahead at Cyclone.

She shoots him a look. When it’s clear that she isn’t going to say anything else, Cyclone clears his throat to continue. 

“Miss Mitchell, we do have to prepare ourselves for the other outcome. If recovery efforts are unsuccessful, in two weeks time, he will be listed as formally ‘Missing in Action’. If that’s the case, we will honor him with a memorial service and all of his service records and personal effects are delivered to you.”

She drags her teeth across her plush bottom lip, swallowing hard and giving a small nod of her head. Closing her eyes for a moment, she pictures the moment that this is all over. She can get out of here and pretend it never happened.

“Okay. Two weeks?”

“This is going to be a longer process,” Cyclone warns her. He’d heard that she had come down specially for this, and he doesn’t want to mislead her about the time frame. “The recovery mission, if unsuccessful, will be suspended in two weeks’ time. After that, we’d like you to be local for the investigation.”

“Investigation?”

“Of ourselves. To ensure that the Navy had performed its due diligence, that kind of thing… I’d expect us to be here for a good few months.” He explains.

After that, it’s like Bradley can see a switch flip for her. 

She’s biting at the inside of her cheek so hard that she must be tasting copper, picking at the seam of her skirt and breathing like she’s trying not to cry.

He’s still confused when he’s all but chasing her across the parking lot, listening to her try to control her breathing.

“Hey, hey, hey,” He tries, approaching her cautiously as she crowds herself against the passenger side of his car. “It’s alright. We’ll get through it, it’s just a couple of months.”

“I— fuck. I don’t want to be here. I-I— I’m going to have to find a job, and I’ll have to call my mom, and— and my friends, and—“

“Hey,” Bradley mumbles, resisting the instinct to throw his arms around her. His brows draw together as he reaches out and squeezes her bicep, bending his knees so he can catch her eye. “It’s alright. I’ll take care of it.”

Avery knows that he’s just trying to be nice, but really, she’s sick of nice. It’s all that Maverick ever was and it left her with no idea of who he really is. “Of what? There’s so much that I have to—“

He nods, closing his mouth, swallowing dryly. Thinking of what he can, feasibly, take off of her plate for her. The idea sparks in him.

“You need a job. I can get you a job. Um, your friends, we can call them and bring them down for a weekend?” He squeezes again at her bicep, nodding his way through his plans, trying to will the tears in her eyes not to spill over.

She sniffs, turning her gaze towards the ground. The lump in Avery’s throat burns and bobs as she tries to swallow it away. 

Mav really is never coming back.

“I don’t want to go back to his house.” It comes out as a whimper, and really just reminds Bradley that she is in the same position that he was when he was just a little younger than her. It’s a scared kid type of feeling, being all alone in the world. Being in an empty house had made it even worse.

He licks his lips and glances towards the skies, watching the sun pass behind a cloud. 

“You could stay at my place, for a night or two.” 

…

[luveline]

hiii, can you do something for aaron comforting pregnant!reader? just lots of comfort and softness (ily<3)

You thought you liked being pregnant. Aaron says you're as beautiful as you've ever been, and there's something comforting about the bump forming. The knowledge that you have a new love so close, maybe. 

But there's something off about it too. Your body isn't solely yours, or that's the way it feels, and though you'd never wish for the baby to be away from you before it's time, you'd like a break. He's a heavy weight to carry, your little Hotchner. He makes your back hurt, your legs ache. Your hands shake before breakfast every day and the morning sickness gets old.

The hormones are intense, too. All in all, you're overwhelmed. It affects everything you do. 

A dropped cup becomes something else. 

“You okay?” Aaron asks. 

You've broken a glass before, you've done it twice in his kitchen alone, but this time it's the last straw. You bend down to clean it up, realise you can't really bend, and then that you can't do it without gloves anyhow. “What am I doing?” you say, your voice dripping with disdain. 

“What are you doing?” Aaron asks, quieter now. “I'll do it. Sit down.” 

He doesn't speak without love. In fact, you'd say that the very infrastructure of his voice is imbued with affection, like every sentence could end in a pet name. 

“I can do it.” You shake your head. “I can't do anything. I'm useless, I'm–” worthless, you want to say. Completely worthless, nothing to give, hardly functioning, and now you can barely clean up after yourself. 

You squeeze your hands together and take a few steps back. Aaron meets your eyes unflinching, impossible to look away from as he follows you, closing the gap. 

“You're not useless. You're less agile than usual for good reason.” 

“I'm useless,” you repeat, self-hatred (not hatred, something different, more pitying, more shameful) thick on the tongue. 

“Honey. You're not useless.” 

“I am.” The first tear wells and races down your cheek within the same second. Your lip begins trembling. “I can't do anything anymore.” 

“You think so?” he asks gently. 

“I can't do it,” you say. 

Your voice breaks. Aaron doesn't need much more instruction, gathering you into his arms for a hug, the bump of your stomach no match for his height. “It's okay,” he says, again so gently, “it's okay.”  

“It's not.” You cry and it aches. You cry like a little kid, wildly out of control of your life. 

“It is, honey, it is. I know… it's not only a glass. You've been rearing up to this for a while.” 

You cry harder, wrists crossed around his back and your face rammed hard into his neck. It must hurt. You're trying to hide from the ache of your panic but there isn't anywhere to go —you're pregnant and you want to be, but you're trapped, too. 

“Aw, I don't know what's wrong with me,” you choke out, spluttering into his collar. 

He doesn't complain. “Nothing–” 

“I know it's not easy–” 

“–is wrong with you. Exactly. It's not easy.” He's calm in the face of your bleeding heart. “Honey, this is one of the hardest things a person can do, and that alone means you're the opposite of useless right now. You're making a big change, a sacrifice, to bring someone new into the world.” 

He pulls your face back from his neck with a kind hand. “Your baby doesn't think you're useless. I can tell you that for sure.” 

“I wish I could take a break,” you admit, shamefaced.”I'm such a bad mom already.” 

He doesn't agree. It's in the line of his mouth, the stillness of his gaze. Aaron takes your hand from his back and pulls it slowly to your stomach, flattening your fingers over the very apex of its hill, his own warm and large covering it surely. “You're not a bad mom, not even close. I don't think so, the baby doesn't think so.” He smiles. “Jack certainly doesn't think so.” 

You take a deep breath. “Really?” 

“Jack couldn't have asked for a better step mom, honey. Wanting a break from the side effects doesn't mean you don't love him, does it?” 

Him as in the baby, the heartbeat, the little head and arms and legs, the tiny brain. Wanting a break from your pregnancy and its constant barrage of symptoms doesn't make you a bad mom. 

“You aren't useless,” Aaron says, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb. “You're my partner, and you're his mother, and if you can't do some of the things you'd usually do right now, that's okay, because I'm here to do them for you.” 

That makes you cry more. Aaron drops his face to yours and presses your noses together, shushing your sobs. You, much less composed, grasp at the swell of your stomach. “Sorry,” you say in a weak whisper, hot all over and not sure how to cope. “I'm sorry, baby.” 

“You don't need to say sorry to him. He's the one at fault, anyway.” 

A laugh slips past your lips before you can think about it. “Don't say that.” 

“No?” Aaron pulls away, taking the fat of your arm into his hand. “I suppose it could be my fault. But it was your idea.” 

“No it wasn't.” 

“No, it wasn't,” he says, his fingers sliding a slow path down to your elbow, “but you do want this, don't you?”

“Of course I do.” 

Your quick answer makes him smile. He wipes your wet cheeks dry with an infinite carefulness, thumb trailing down the apple of your cheek to catch a last little tear. “Let me sit you down, sweetheart. I bet you feel even more tired than you did to begin with.” 

Pregnancy isn't always (or really often) fun, nor is crying your eyes out into the unfailing arms of your husband (though that had it's redeeming factors, mainly the smell of him, and the way he held you like he knew exactly how to make it all better), but you feel better for it, rather than worse as he's suggesting. Still, you soak up Aaron's quiet doting, a hand pressed to your baby bump as he kisses the side of your head. 

[obsessedwrhys]

SCIENCE VS MAGIC

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ Donnie disapproves your magical abilities. Sort of enemies to lovers trope, lots of bickering, reader has telekinetic/telepathic powers (origin will be explained throughout the fic), fluff, angst, this fic is kinda long (didnt proof read I got lazy). Reader is fem!!

ᯓ★

To think that all of this started from a normal dumpster that you ended up crashing into after falling out of the sky was like a cliché opening to a movie. Even from the height of the fall, due to your superhuman abilities, you managed to survive but however you endured some severe injuries that left you unconscious.

The crash was loud enough to catch the attention of the four mutant brothers just a few blocks away. Once they made it to the scene, it was like a scene from E.T. They were actually convinced they just witnessed the crash of a spaceship, but there was no spaceship of any kind, just a girl inside a dumpster bin.

"Did she just fall out of the sky?" The eldest asked out of concern.

"Ooooh, do you think she's an alien?" The brother in the blue nudges his brother with a playful smirk.

"According to the visual evidence before me... no, she is NOT an alien Leo"

"Awwww c'mon, maybe aliens also look... humanly!"

"Then does that mean we're aliens?"

"Alright, enough chit-chatting. All this alien talk is making my brain itch. Let's bring her somewhere safe" The eldest suggested which the rest easily went along with.

Just like that you were brought into their lair, you were instantly taken into Donnie's lab to have your wounds treated. Since the brothers trusted him, they left to let him do his work. With his goggles on, he carefully applied medicine on some of your wounds with the help of his tweezers. It was when you hissed that it made his body jump.

"A bit gentle will you?" You asked and he stares at you for a while.... before skedaddling to his monitor to check on your current health status.

From how fast he ran you almost thought you scared him. Just then it came to the realisation that you weren't in your home realm, you were in a completely different place. You could tell because you couldn't detect anyone of your kind with your telepathy. You watched as the... turtle? A walking turtle? Wait turtles walk. A humanoid turtle? Man what realm is this...?

"You're in stable condition even though you fell from about 100 kilometres from the sky. How is that even possible?" He stroked his chin as he taps on the side of his face while trying to make sense of all of this.

"Well... I drank some milk before I ran away. Maybe it made my bones stronger"

"That is absurd. Milk does not make your bones stronger! That supposition is unjustified and irrational. I refuse to hear any of it" He said, or more of the word, yapped. He then took off his goggles and put it aside to continue typing whatever it is on his keyboard.

"Okay, sorry... but I need to get going" You got up but the pain from your injuries made you stutter in your movements, you hiss from the pain.

"That won't be possible. You will need time and energy to heal due to your condition. Besides, what can be more important?" He said, forcing you to lay back down on the operating table.

"Well... would you believe me if I told you I'm a being with superhuman abilities who also happen to be on the run from some space cops because I was accused of breaking realities by travelling in between too much?" You asked. Your question having him bat his eyes at you a few times. Suddenly he starts to examine you with his eyes sparked with intrigue but it was for the wrong reason.

"Ah, hallucination, one of the most common causes of brain damage. How could I have failed to notice this? Could you stare into this light? How many fingers am I holding up?" He continued on trying to examine you but you just stare at him in disbelief.

Of course he thinks you're crazy.

Guess there's only one way to prove yourself.

"Now if you'd just—" The second he sees all of his things floating from the table was when he finally shut his mouth close, his eyes wide from shock as he began to freak out on what to do in this situation.

"I'm not hallucinating and neither are you... this is all magic" You simply said before putting all his things back to it's rightful spots.

He stands there, his eyes not blinking even once as he seems to be having a very hard time digesting your words. Magic?

M.A.G.I.C.?

His left eye twitched which made you wonder if you had just struck a nerve.

"Magic. Does not exist...!" He said, grabbing what seems to be his tool. A staff?

"Magic roughly translates to the art of manipulating natural forces. Annnnnd that's exactly what science does. Magic is just a thing people make up to downplay the works of scientific discovery because SOME people happen to not appreciate the gift of wisdom but rather on fantasy. It's quite self-centered if so to speak" He crossed his arms with a faint smug. Did he just look at you when he highlighted the word some?

"That sucks... but you can't deny that what I have is magic" You said, using your telekinesis to grab a bag of candy from the shelf.

"DONT TOUCH MY STUFF!!"

"I'm not touching!! Look!" You held up both your hands in the air as you used your power to feed yourself the candy roll. He glares at you as he snatches the bag of candy from the air.

"That's it! If you will be staying at MY lair living in MY lab, you will be living under MY rules missy!"

"Missy?!"

"Yes you heard me louuuud and clear!" He said. Ah some part of you is telling you this is gonna be a complicated stay compared to the rest you've had.

For the next few days, you were able to properly get to know the people who have saved you. They introduced themselves as brothers. The one who seemingly always checked up on you was named Raph whilst the other two brothers who are always hanging out with you were Leo and Mikey. That leaves the brother who was... well... constantly eyeing you being Donnie.

The reason why you'd phrase it like that was because every time you found yourself simply resting or spending time with his brothers, you could always catch him spying on you. Most of the time he'd just be peaking from behind objects or if he's feeling brave, he'll straight up choose to stand on the other side of the room with his eyes locked on you like a hawk.

If the staring wasn't weird enough, he would also ask you multiple questions that he seem to have written down in his notebook. He would have the end of his pen pressed against his chin as he asks his questions.

"Well, with your gifted talents, are you able to read minds?" He asked, seated on the ground as he faces you.

"Yes" You responded with your arms folded.

"Confident, but that doesn't mean you're correct. In order to comfirm that theory, we must carry out a test. Now, what number am I thinking?"

"7"

He'd stay silent, his brows slightly narrowed as he slowly nods to himself.

"Interesting... buuuuut 7 is the most common number people would think of in this scenario... it could just be a lucky guess" He said, brushing off your showcase just now while he jot down on his notebook.

You tried your hardest not to roll your eyes once you heard his response. Why does he even bother asking these questions if he doesn't like the answers you give him? Something tells you he's probably just messing with you.

"Alright, next question, are you able to carry out mind control?"

Multiple times, you've told yourself to be patient but as days go by, his behaviour was really driving you insane... to be fair you've also been driving him insane by sharing his room. He seems crazy obsessed with privacy. Which you get. But he's on a whole different level.

"Seriously?" You'd stand in front of his invention. You have no knowledge of what it's even made out of but you were sure it was programmed to keep you out of his side of the room. See it as a semi-transparent wall that he can activate and deactivate.

"I'm not gonna touch your things. You act like I'm some kind of criminal"

"Which YOU AREE!! Your story of being wanted by these space cops easily proves that point. I will NOT risk my tech to be stolen by a space criminal!!" He'd say, pointing at you before crossing his arms with his body facing the other away.

"..... no hard feelings" He'd add in the end.

Riggggght. No hard feelings.

"Well then, I guess I'll just go and have a goodnight sleep" You'd turn on your heels but after taking just a few steps, you'd stop in your tracks. Your back still facing him.

"Oh and by the way, the name space criminal sounds pretty cool. Don't you think?" You'd ask as you show him the remote he needs to deactivate the wall he has set up. The second he sees he has lost it, he began to panic and check for ways out.

"Nononono...! But how?!" He'd question since he was sure it was on him the entire time you've talked.

"A criminal never reveals her tricks" You'd grin as you happily hopped away. The sound of him slamming on the wall making the satisfaction in you grow.

"NO!! DON'T YOU DARE LEAVE!! COME BACK!! HEY!!"

Despite you slowly getting use to his behaviour, you still wonder why he has this much dislike towards you. You wouldn't say it's hate since he's still generous enough to let you stay in his room. But who knows? What if he did actually hate you? You laid down on the skateboard ramp as you stared up at the ceiling.

Your peace soon interrupted once you sensed the familiar presence of someone approaching you. You tried to ignore him when he suddenly sat down beside you. It was awkward silence for a moment.

"... what are you doing?"

"Resting"

"Resting? Does your abilities cause you to grow tired quickly?" He'd ask, whipping out his notebook from out of nowhere.

"Is it like a video game where you have an energy bar for each time you use it? Does it happen to also drain your life force? Do you age faster?" His questions were being asked quicker than you could answer. It was really annoying you like he was a fly that wouldn't leave you alone.

"Do you happen to burn calori—"

"Shhhh" The sound of you shushing him mid sentence made his eyes go wide. It was like he wasn't sure what had just happened.

"Excuse me I wasn't—"

"Shhhh"

His brows twitched almost out of fury once he realised what game you were playing at.

"I—"

"Shhh"

"Now you—"

"Shhhhhhhhh"

"LISTEN—!"

"SHUUUUUSHHH!" Your words causing him to be so frustrated that he had to turn around and mutter whatever that it is to himself. From a few words you could only pick up being 'Dumb dumb' and 'You're the better person here'. You had to admit watching him lose it was hilarious to watch.

When he turned back around, you quickly stopped yourself from grinning and went back to your poker face. He takes a deep breath before he exhales painfully slow to sooth himself. You're pretty sure he's gone insane.

"It seems there's no use arguing against someone who doesn't listen" He'd speak but you chose not to say anything this time. Your absent of words irritating him bit by bit.

"I see. The common tactic of giving me the cold shoulder in an attempt to make me seem like I'm the idiot, well I hate to disappoint you but i will not easily fall for such trap" He said as he ends up crossing his arms with his chest slightly puffed out. His head facing the other way and his eyes shut from his pettiness.

It's bizarre how you're both the same age but he acts like such a kid compared to you. You sighed.

"Why do you even hate magic so much? Or just me in general. Do you have some sort of grudge?" You questioned and he opened his left eye to look at you, then his right eye. You could see his face relaxing slightly at your question.

"What makes you think I'd tell you?"

Ah what were you thinking... of course he wouldn't tell you...

"... fair point. Have a good day" You got up and ended leaving him there. Your powers helping you sense the disbelief he was experiencing at that moment.

Days passed by and each second that goes, you began to miss the realm you were originally from. Your family, your friends, they must be worried sick about you. Yet you're stuck in this world where you feel caged inside the sewers. There has to be a way to jump back into the realm of your home without triggering the system the space cops have set up.

You'd spend your time drawing out strategies and calculating the possibility of the chances of it succeeding. All of those plans written on plain paper you may or may not have stolen from Donnie's pile but oh well, it's not that you took that many anyways, besides he won't find out since you hide it under your pillow.

After countless tries, you still couldn't find the answer. The security is tight since those space cops are really out to get you. The thought of this being your new life really gives you the shivers. Just as you went in the kitchen to grab a drink, you were then approached by Raph.

"Hey (Y/N), you don't seem to be in good shape" He'd point out the frown on your face which you were quick to drop.

"Oh, that's nothing. Just still adjusting to this world. I haven't really gotten the chance to explore" You said before taking a sip of your drink.

"Well... in that case. How about you join us tonight for patrol?" He'd suggest. The offer so good that obviously you couldn't pass it up.

Which brings you on the rooftop with the four brothers. You had to admit it was nice to finally breath fresh air for once in this realm. The city seems so alive and although the tech isn't as advanced compared to where you're from, it still made the place look so fast paced and pretty. Is that a hotdog stand? You stood at the edge of the rooftop as you admired the streets, failing to notice Donnie who's been glaring at you since you've arrived.

"Alright boys.... and uh... girl. You get the drill!! Let's get this—" Sounds of a scream interrupted his words. All five of you duck to see a woman getting cornered by a gang of thugs in a dark alley.

"Oh no... we gotta help her!"

"Do not worry brother, for I have just the right tool—"

Before he could even finish talking, you have already jump down to the alley with the use of your telekinesis to help you land safely. You threw punches and kicks while simultaneously dodging the attacks thrown at you. Your moves catching the brothers off, each having a reaction of their own.

"Helllll yeahhh!! Save some for me!!" Leo said as he was quick to join you in the fight.

"Wait! Careful!" Raph following close by.

"Man! Who'd knew (Y/N) could fight like that?" Mikey was utterly astonished while Donnie who stands beside him had his teeth gritted out of annoyance.

"Yeaaah... who would have known...." His eyes sharp when examining all of your moves.

It didn't take long until all of the thugs were unconscious on the ground, you used your powers to tie them up with the rope that was conveniently nearby. The woman was safe and had managed to run away safely away from the danger. To avoid anyone from seeing you guys, you were all quick to leave. On the rooftop is where you celebrated your victory with them.

"That was awesome!! Up tops (Y/N)!!" He'd put his hand up and you were fast to high five him.

"What do you say we go celebrate this over some pizza?" Raph suggested which almost everyone went along with, all except Donnie.

Even back in the lair he was quiet. His expression blank like he doesn't seem happy about the pizza or anything. It peaked your interest almost instantly. That's why once the hangout was over and that everyone has gone to sleep, you felt awkward trailing behind him to his room. You could tell from his body language he had his guard up.

"Rough night?" You tried to start small talk with him. Something you didn't think you'd find yourself doing.

Even though he heard you, he still remained silent. This is starting to feel like karma for how you treated him all the time. You watched as he removes his armour to reveal his soft shell. Even though you'd normally just go to your side of the room, you couldn't bring yourself to walk away, you didn't know why but you felt involved with whatever it is he's dealing with right now.

"Is something wrong?" You questioned but he tried to ignore your presence by putting his equipments away.

"You're not your usual self... did something happen?" You asked and you could see his shoulders tense at your words.

"Hey I'm—"

"Just— Just stop!" He'd shout, suddenly turning around to look at you. His gaze deadly cold as he stares into your irises.

"You think you can just come into my life and try to take my spot?! All these countless years of building and inventing machines for my brothers, only for a fairy tale like YOU to pop out of nowhere!!" He'd say, putting out hand gestures to express his emotions.

You didn't say anything but listened with your eyes slightly wide. So this was how he felt about you...?

"It's not fair!! How is it that you can just do all these things with a flick of your wrist while I have to spend restless nights to even achieve that little?! You—!" He'd stop short, unable to finish as he takes a break to catch his breath.

You frown.

Ah you really feel like a terrible person right now... and it's not that you could control how you were birthed with your powers... but it was mostly because of the way you were pushing his buttons ever since you came. You joining their patrol tonight must have been the last straw.

"You're right. It's not fair" You'd utter and he stares at you, a bit taken aback from your sudden confession.

"It's not fair I get a head start compared to the rest... but that doesn't mean you can put out that anger at me! It's not my fault! Besides, you're clearly a smart dude and a very good brother from what I've seen. So why are you comparing yourself to me? It's like comparing a shark to an orca! It was never meant to be fair" You said. His eyes slowly trailing away like he was no longer able to look at you directly like he did before.

"I... sigh you're right... I'm... s—sorry" He muttered, his voice faint but you heard exactly what he was trying to say.

"Don't worry about it... I'm also sorry for the way I've treated you. Let's start over?" You asked, a slight smile on your face and he couldn't help but admit it was a good look on you.

"Yeah"

Ever since then, his behaviour around you seemed to change little by little. His questions seem to become less as he was now more attentive when listening to your answers. He'd also quit his weird staring habit... well just almost... he still stares at you but instead of looking so focused like you're a strange object, he looks at you with a more friendly expression.

His drastic change really got to you.

It was like a whole brand new person.

He began to act kind towards you. Even going as far as to offering to help with your strategy planning, it definitely threw you off guard when he told you he was willing to help. Obviously his constant yapping and disagreements are still there but they seem more playful compared to before. It was when you realised how he has made you laugh multiple times that you start to notice these feelings developing in you.

You almost hated yourself when you came to the conclusion you had fallen for the guy.

The same guy you could barely tolerate weeks ago.

The question now was that, did he feel the same for you? You could try reading his mind but would that be crossing the line? You'd be evading his privacy and that's the last thing you'd want to do. Inside the room where you laid on your bed, you couldn't help but think about these thoughts while also having your papers of plans scattered across you. How did all of these feelings even came from...?

"Well you're up early" He'd come in the room with a cup of coffee. You nearly jump at his voice.

"I'm early?" You chuckled, noting he was the one to be first out of bed.

"Jokes on you I didn't even sleep" He then placed his cup on his table before joining to examine your mess of papers.

"Now, shall we continue?" He asked to which you nodded.

It was hard to even focus being so close to him. Gosh you really are incapable of thinking now. You gulped, trying to remain calm. This was not you. You never act like this around anyone. All of this stressing made you zone out that Donnie took notice after realising you hadn't been listening to a thing he's been telling you.

"Hellllooooo? Have you used your telepathy to block me out? That's really typical" He'd say and it quickly took you back to the present.

"What?"

"What?" He laughs at your confused state. Ah this is giving you even more mixed signals...

"Sorry, just tired from waking up, let's continue" You said, trying to ignore what just happened, feeling as though you were slightly embarrassed.

"Nononoo, you've been constantly daydreaming everytime I talk to you. Something's up" He'd say.

Oh man some part of you wished he wasn't this observant.

"I guess... I'm just missing home...?" You lied, trying to excuse your behaviour. If he ever finds out you might just bury yourself.

"So you're homesick?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Don't worry, there's no shame to it, the sooner we solve this the sooner we get you home" He said confidently.

He then moved closer to you, his actions causing you to freeze. You were unsure what he was trying to do as he inches closer and closer to you.... just to get a pen? You were embarrassed the second he moved back to his spot. With the pen in hand he continued on writing. Ah that was awkward.

All this beating around the bush was driving you crazy.

"I figured it out!" Donnie exclaimed and it got your attention. You turn to him to look at his plan. It was a bit complicated but with the right timing it could work.

Then you wondered what will happen after you finally found a way home.

Are you just gonna simply leave?

"You don't look awfully happy about this. Is the joy too much that you're struggling to express it?" He grinned.

You sigh.

Now would be the best time.

"No I just... uhm... I have feelings for you?" You awkwardly confessed. Your words making the grin on his face drop.

"I'm saying it now so that if you reject me I can just simply go and we can pretend none of this happened" You tried to lighten up the mood with a weak smile but the shock on Donnie's face made you wonder if this was a bad idea.

Suddenly he was blushing.

You had to blink twice to make sure what you seeing was true.

"Ah... why'd you have to make it worse for me? I was trying to get rid of these feelings" He ran his hand across his face.

What?

"Do you not love me?" You asked and it made him panic.

"Nono! It's not that, it's that... how will I love you if you're never with me? You have a home and I realised it's not here" He frown.

Maybe, it was in the heat of the moment, but you suddenly had a solution to solve this problem.

A solution you would blindly do for love.

"Then I'll stay"

"Sta—stay?! You can't—"

"But I can. Those space cops are out to get me and as much as I miss my people, I'm afraid I could put them in danger if I head back. Maybe... I can stay a little longer?" You said and for a second he stares at you... but soon his eyes sparkles with gleam.

"You wanna stay with me?" You smiled at how awfully innocent he sounded when he asked.

"I guess you've grown on me"

"Well wow... haha... okay... um..." He stutters, struggling to even put the right words in the right order.

"Do you want to um... eat lunch... together? I assume that you're starving right now" He said, trying to play it off.

"Sure, will you be cooking my meal?" You joked which he was quick to return with a smile.

"I'm starting to think you're gonna be more of handful now that we're dating"

"Likewise"

[xo-cod]

angst w simon where he's worried about his civilian gf after an accident caused by her recklessness😢💔

hope you enjoy, it's rushed and probably ooc but i hope you like it :") <33

"how many goddamn times do i have to tell you to watch out for your surroundings y/n??" ghost was seething, one arm wrapped protectively around your waist while the other unlocked the front door.

"how many times do i explain i didn't even see the guy there" you glare but it is quickly replaced by a hiss of pain when you accidentally knock your leg against the wall. he holds you in his arms, taking you to the living room where he is better able to examine your injuries.

under different circumstances, you'd be smitten by his adoration for you that never seems to cease. however right now, the air could've been sliced by the blade strapped to his leg while his eyebrows crease further. his balaclava was thrown on the back of the sofa as his jaw was clenched tightly by your state

"that's the issue. you don't think, you just do. you strut to an unknown area, not once thinking about the dangers that lay right around the bloody corner. what, you think you're immortal or somethin??" his teeth are gritted, gently peeling apart your jeans to see a horrible cut that was bleeding freely down your skin and soaking into the fabric. cutting a bit of fabric, he does his best to wrap it tight to ensure no more blood while making a mental note to take you to the hospital

"alright simon, enough. you've made your displeasure more than clear tonight" you hold your tongue as best as you can but his eyes bore into yours, his normal dark brown irises have now darkened with anger. he stands to his full height, his face pensive as he glances down at you.

"no, don't turn your words on me. you made a mistake tonight, you were the one that recklessly walked into the trap, you're not a damn soldier armed to the brim with weapons! i won't always be there to protect you-" he begins but you cut him off, a light thumping taking place around your temples. all this pain and adrenaline made you want to crawl into bed and sleep for years.

"believe me, i'm paying the price for it. is that what you want to hear?? me to say that i was in the wrong?" you hissed, moving your leg away from his hands. he frowns, tilting his head in that disapproving glance that you're used to seeing him show to the recruits and occasionally his team members. it felt strange seeing it directed to you.

"can you just let it go already, what's happened has happened" you speak coldly and he bites his tongue, throwing the rag he cleaned the remainh blood with on the floor in a rage.

"i can't, fucks sake!" his voice becomes louder but you're not afraid, matching his tone of voice as you ask the next question.

"why not??" "because i love you, damn it! i fuckin love you and seeing you like that... it makes me so angry because i realise that i can't protect you as well as i thought!" his hands clenched tightly around the desk so much so you're sure it's about to break under his grasp, his tone sharp as it rang through your ears

"si..." your voice has dropped significantly, any anger dissipated into concern and worry. but he doesn't listen, instead taking several deep breaths. you can see from the shaking of his hands that he's overworked and scared, worried sick of his mind about this accident.

"don't wait up for me" he brushes past you, quickly wiping his face with the back of his hand while he grabs his balaclava from the couch again. his form is stiff as the skull mask goes over his face, ghost

you hear the door close behind him, the faint smell of his cologne in the air as you sigh softly with your mind overrun by thoughts. you're not used to simon being so worried, this accident rattled his cage and now he was out seeking vengeance for you. you walk lean back against the couch, looking at the time while the seconds ticked slowly. only hoping that he's safe and he comes back soon

[whereireid]

𝐃𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐃 - 2/2

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨

pairing: dark!ex-boss!steve rogers x fem!reader

WORDCOUNT: 4.6k warnings: dubious consent ! - sexually naive reader, rough p in v, oral sex [m + f receiving] - height difference [6'6 steve, 5'3 reader] -, misogyny, sexism: breeding kinks -daddy kink, captain kink. choking, pregnant!reader: spanking, gaslighting- especially shein at the end LOL - emotional abuse, assimilation, kidnapping slight mention - steve gets his happy ending

PSA: YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. THIS CONTENT IS CONSIDERED MATURE. 18+ ! If any of these topics trigger you, please do not indulge in this content! This is a DARK!FIC, and is intended to come across as such. Minors, please dni - this content is 18+ and is under my #WOMNSFW tag.

summary: Once Captain America's assistant, you're now the up-coming mother of his child. After Steve's jealousy finally becomes out of hand, you snap at him, only to realise that's the very last thing you should do to a Super Soldier. He decides that your defiance lights a match to spark the fire of you being a brilliant mother.

-

It’s not like Steve to get this riled up. It’s just difficult watching you discuss initiative with a rookie rather than paying attention to him. He watches as your small hand falls down to brush over your stomach, wondering if your fingers splay over it as a means to reassure yourself that the baby growing inside of you is okay.

Jealousy isn’t a good look on Steve. He’s not a complete airhead - he knows dames usually don’t like it when a man gets stupidly possessive and starts trying to control them, but he just can’t help it. You’re his - literally. Not only are you literally his personal assistant, but you’re also his fiancé and the mother of his child.

“Sweetheart, don’t you think it’s time we get home now?” His voice booms across the training room, his thick hands coming up to massage your shoulders softly. “This much standing can’t be too good for the baby.”

You're terrible at analysis, Steve realizes. You hadn't even noticed he had approached you - evident by how his touch makes you flinch. He feels your nerves jolt beneath him, but to the regular human eye, nothing appears wrong. Steve admits that you’ve grown incredibly wary of his touch recently, only engaging in displays of affection when around other people. In the comfort of your shared home, though, it’s like when he touches you, your body slithers with disgust.

“I am growing slightly tired.” You throw an apologetic smile over at the rookie you were speaking to, all whilst leaning into Steve's touch willingly. He doesn’t miss the prickles of goosebumps that ripple up your skin, the fear which prickles at the back of your neck. He frowns - has his touch ever been unloving, unkind? “I think it’s best I go home and rest up."

Your mutter a few apologies, which forces an eye roll from Steve. Why are you apologizing to people who aren't even worth your time? Frustrated, he begins to steer you out of the compound quickly, irritated as you shuffle away from his touch as though his mere skin is poison.

The drive back to your shared home is silent. Steve is seething as he drives, his grip on the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles are beginning to turn white. He’s tried to be patient and understanding - he really has. But he’s blessed you and he doesn’t understand why you’re so hell-bent on rejecting him and then repenting as though he's a curse. You’re throwing tantrums similarly to what a toddler would, sitting next to him in silence and stewing in unspoken anger, and Steve can’t help but feel slightly hurt by your actions.

Is he not good enough for you? Is that it? Or have you grown tired of him? He has been more than kind, allowing you to still attend work despite the fact you’re growing his child. He has bent and adapted so you do not break, shrugging away every single urge to force tradition upon you.

Perhaps what you need is a sense of tradition. Maybe that will stop the fiery defiance you display, both in public and at home.

“We’re home.” Steve’s voice booms loudly in the car, and you stir from your position, your eyes fluttering open at him.

“Good. I’m tired,” you sigh heavily, forcing yourself out of the car quickly before Steve could come around and open your door for you. “Today’s been exhausting.”

“How so?” Steve almost sneers, grabbing your bag from the car and slamming the driver’s side door shut loudly. “All you do all day is make appointments for me and flirt with other men. It can’t be that difficult.”

You groan, waiting for Steve to unlock the front door before following him into your home. “I don’t flirt with other men, Steve. Stop being so delusional."

You drawl his name out with such annoyance it makes Steve’s jaw twitch. “Really? So you weren't all over that rookie earlier today?” He turns away in annoyance, flicking the light to the living area on. The house keys sway in his fingers, and he chuckles dryly, “give me a break, sweetheart. You were practically begging him to fuck you.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, sighing exasperatedly. “So what if I was begging him to fuck me, Steve?" Your hands fall to your stomach, holding it protectively whilst staring at him with furrowed brows.

Holding something he made.

He stills. “Excuse me?”

The calmness in Steve’s tone makes your blood run cold. You try to ignore how he stops still in the archway of the living area; how his large frame tenses and his fists clench. You suddenly feel as though all the air has been sucked out of the room, and you stumble out (in one last act of pitiful defiance), “so what if I was begging him to fuck me, Steve?“

The drawl of his name is what finally makes him snap. It’s like he sees red - like he can’t believe how you’re actually treating him, despite everything that he’s done for you. Steve’s palm is quickly splayed across your throat, and he growls, sounding similar to that of a wild animal as he begins to try and force you to your knees.

It's not like you don't go down without a fight. You try to resist, somewhat, anyway, but you can’t, because he is so, so much stronger than you are and it’s fucking scary. His hands are so strong that they diminish any force of fight you had within you, as trying to resist him makes you actually feel like your shoulders are going to snap. You whimper pathetically as you kneel before him, staring up at his pupils, which are blown and blackened.

You know better than to irritate him by now, so why do you keep doing it?

“You’re mine,” Steve snaps, his blue eyes icy as he pulls his zipper down. The sharp noise makes you flinch beneath him, trying to shuffle away, but the grip he has on the nape of your neck is tight and holds you in place. “You must be fucking crazy if you think I’d ever let another man touch you. If you think I’ll ever let another man look at you again without consequence.”

His fingers grab at your jaw, forcing your mouth open and you cry out. Steve is visibly angry - furious is perhaps a better word, given the fact he’s practically shaking as grips your face whilst also aggressively pulling his thick, hard cock out of his boxers. “You’re going to have to learn how to put that mouth of yours to better use, doll. It's wasted on those shitty opinions of yours, anyway."

Hands roughly grabbing at your hair, pulling your face towards his cock, you have not much choice but to take him in your mouth. It’s intrusive - terribly so, and Steve manhandles you so roughly it makes your tears prick with tears, but it shamefully sends a throbbing to your pussy. You clench your legs together as you take him, choking as he slides in and out of your mouth until you’re a blubbering mess below him, spit and tears painting your cheeks as he fucks your throat relentlessly.

“Who do you belong to?” He grunts out, pulling so hard at your hair your head pulses. Steve’s hips stutter as you choke around him, your eyes doe-like and wide, covered in wet mascara. “Who the fuck do you belong to?”

“Y-you, Steve,” you choke out as he pulls out of your mouth with an uncomfortable POP!, relishing in the breaths he’s allowing you. “I belong to you.”

Steve's cock is so big it's actually painful. Your throat constricts around his cock as he forces your head down again, grumbling out, “I bet that rookie couldn’t treat you like this. I bet he couldn’t fuck you full of his babies like I have, doll.”

You whine beneath him as he continues to use your throat. Steve is driven entirely by his own pleasure, tiring quickly of your pathetic crying around his cock. With angry thrusts of his hips, Steve watched you gag around him, his cock twitching in your throat as you take all of him in; every inch, and his length is actually somewhat visible in your neck. And it’s driving him crazy- so crazy that he can’t hold back anymore, his rough hands grasping at your hair as he finishes, painting your tongue with his cum.

Steve watches as you choke and thrash against him in an attempt to get away, because his cock and his cum is stuffing your mouth in ways it’s never been stuffed before. It’s suffocating you, and blackness pricks at the corner of your vision - you’re just about to pass out before you Steve mercifully pulls his cock out of your mouth with a disgusting squelch and delivers you a hard slap.

The stinging from his hand sends a sheepish insatiable throbbing to your core that you know will never be satisfied. The tingle which tickles your core makes you clench your thighs, knowing no matter how hard you repent, tonight he will not forgive you.

“This throat is mine to use,” he seethes, his tip still leaking as he presses his cock against your cheek, satisfied with the discomfort that flutters throughout your features. “Say it.”

“This throat is yours to use,” your bottom lip quivers, your eyes spilling tears, some of which fall on Steve’s cock. And it’s shameful how wet you are - how the heat between your legs has grown uncomfortable and how you’re certain your pussy is slick with arousal because somehow it’s all you can focus on. You melt into a weeping puddle, your hands tiny compared to Steve’s cock, desperately trying to push his length away during your tantrum.

It doesn’t work. If anything, it makes him much so much harder - his cock throbs against the skin of your face, and you sniffle as he speaks. “Good girl,” Steve’s praises, his fingers curling in your hair, watching as your eyebrows contort in pain as he tugs gentler than you deserve. “Look at your pretty little face. Covered all over with cum and tears.” He coos, smoothing your hair down gently, a soft pang of love throbbing within his heart.

Your face flushes red, and you blink up, your wet, long lashes batting up at him ridiculously. “I’m sorry,” you murmur, your throat incredibly sore from his invasion, your hands desperately clasping at his thighs, and he watches you in amusement, unable to bite back the excitement as you brush your lips over his length meekly. “Please forgive me, Steve, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know if I can, honey,” he tells you, his big hands making gentle, loving motions in your hair. It’s a sharp contrast to the aggressiveness of his touch moments beforehand, but you bask in it nonetheless. “You were flirting with that rookie, baby, you said you wanted to fuck him. How am I supposed to forgive you for that?”

“I didn’t say I wanted to fuck him!” you whine, and Steve shakes his head.

“That’s what I heard, baby.”

You sniffle, and Steve shakes his head. Why do you have to lie to him? He doesn’t like making you upset - he certainly doesn’t like hurting you. His pretty girl, sitting in front of him with raw, red knees and an even rawer throat, whose ass is yet to be spanked until the pain renders you unable to move. He hates it, and he wishes this pain on nobody, especially not his little girl. Steve is meant to protect you, not hurt you. He’s your saviour, the one man in your life you can rely on and trust with all of your secrets, and yet you lie to him, again and again and again.

Steve hates making you upset, but he loves watching you cry. Conflict tugs at him from the inside, his thumb making gentle strokes in your hair as you speak to him. “I’m sorry, I really am,” you finally say, sinking beneath him obediently. “I didn’t mean any of it. It’s - its probably just the hormones.”

Steve hums in agreement. “It probably is, doll, but just in case it isn’t…I’m going to have to teach you a lesson.” He sucks in a breath, muttering, “let’s see how sorry you really are, doll.”

It takes everything in Steve not to finish all over again when he pulls you atop of him and you gasp in shock, his big hands forcing your hips down, and before you’re even aware of it, your walls are sheathed around his cock. Tight - so tight, and wet, too: ridiculously so. Shameful squelching sounds flood the living room as Steve fucks up into you with long, even thrusts.

The mewls that escape your throat as your small fingers dig into Steve's frame makes him want to impregnate you al over again. If he could, he would - your pussy is addicting, gripping him just right. You’re like Goldilocks. Your walls are so tight that you're practically milking his cock for his cum -, and he bites your neck slightly as you shake and tremble against him, your first orgasm crashing over you like a wave. Hot flashes come over you as your core tightens, the coil inside of you snapping- your little legs shake and you hold onto Steve for support, who rides you through your orgasm.

“This pussy is mine,” he practically growls, his fingers clawing around your throat, palm splayed against it uncomfortably. You thrash wildly when he squeezes, but Steve doesn’t care: you don’t deserve him, not at all, not one bit - he is Captain America! He can do what he wants!

“This pussy is yours,” you rasp as his cock nestles against the spongy spot inside of your pussy, your hips desperately rolling to get any source of friction. “Please, Steve! It’s all yours! Wanna cum again! Wanna cum!”

As you cry desperately, your frame pressing up against his, Steve grins, thrusting up into you painfully slow. The motion is enough, though. It sends sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine, and your coil tightens - it grows tighter every single time he moves, the brush of his cock against the insanely sensitive spot inside of you making your legs quiver.

“You love it. I know you love it, sweetheart. Being filled with my baby. It makes you real wet, doesn’t it, doll?" His voice is gentle, and he peppers soft kisses against your neck, eradicating the pain he had left behind earlier.

"Mhm. I love it and I love you, Steve," you agree eagerly, your hands digging into his shoulders, your timid body taking every slow, dragged thrust of his. “I’m so close.”

Your whimpers make his cock twitch inside of you. You sound heavenly - angelic, the gentle moans that slip past your lips making him wish he could just give you his baby all over again. And he will, after you’ve had this one - god, he can’t wait to pump you full of his babies again and again and again. Steve's hands grip your hips gently, his eyes fluttering shut as your velvety walls squeeze him again, so soft and perfect, and he lets out a hearty moan which makes the knot inside of you tighten.

"I want it," you whimper, your nose brushing against his, and you gaze up at him through wet lashes. “Please.”

Your begging makes Steve bloom with pride, and at your words, he thrusts up into you harder. It's not long before you're bouncing quickly atop him, mewls and cries of pleasure slipping past your lips. Your curls fall messily in front of your eyes, and he sucks in a breath at the ecstatic state of you: you’re desperate - so close to your edge, again. Your cheeks are warm and messy, and the sounds of slick bouncing off of the living room walls makes you feel more cockdrunk than you already are.

And then you begin to come undone atop of him.

He does, too. Steve loves it. Your velvet walls squeeze him so tightly that you’re milking him - you take in every drop of his cum, and as his hips still inside of you, Steve places gentle kisses against your nose.

Your big, beautiful eyes stare back at him, your hips juddering against his. You pant, your nails digging into his chest as you steady yourself atop of him. For a second, you can’t believe it - you really let Steve use you again.

But he loves you. And then conflict tugs at you all over again, because he is a good guy, incredibly so! He’s Captain America, his job is literally to protect you - and hasn’t he done exactly that? You’re the most protected person in America right now, considering the fact you’re pumped full of his babies.

“Do you trust me, sweetheart?”

You nod. “I- I do, Steve.” Your voice trembles, leaning your body weight against his, unable to hold yourself up.

“Good girl.” He brushes his nose against yours, smiling as you tremble against him. “That’s all you’ll ever have to do.”

As Steve carries you to bed, tucking you in tightly, he smiles down at you. He’s glad he’s finally changed the locks, and he’s glad that you don’t have one of the new keys.

He can keep you here now until he thinks you’re ready to go. Until you’re ready to accept your place as Mrs. America.

—

What you used to call kidnapping, Steve called assimilation.

You’re not locked in his house, unable to go home, unable to contact any family or friends. No, you’re just in an educational program, learning how to be a perfect housewife. That’s what Steve says, anyway, snickering away to himself as he does.

It’s lonely, and it’s scary. Yet you have nothing to fear, especially when Steve comes home. He wraps you in his arms, engulfing you in his scent, pressing you against his brawny body as though you’re his world. You breathe him in, clutching at him desperately, thankful that he’s coming home safe and sound.

It’s been so long the thought of escaping no longer even brushes your thoughts, but still, Steve wonders if you have realised your place. He can’t risk letting you out if you haven’t - but then again, who would believe you? A pregnant woman whose husband represents all of the stars and stripes?

Still, he can’t help but worry about you. Have you assimilated? Have you learnt? It’s a question that Steve isn’t sure of the answer, but as you curl into his big frame, he believes that you have. Perhaps you’ve finally learnt it’s easier to comply with the Captain’s orders than to defy them.

“How has your day been, Steve?” you ask, nudging your head into the corner of his neck as he presses his palms against your stomach. He’s big and warm, comforting and strong, peppering gentle kisses against your face, praising you for being such a gorgeous girl.

You’re bulging now. Practically ready to give birth at any second. It sends a gentle ache to Steve’s length, his lips pressing lovingly against your stomach. He loves coming home to you. He always has, even when you defied him and cried and begged him to just treat you like a colleague again. It’s selfish - Steve knows it’s selfish - but he just couldn’t ever go back to not knowing you. Now that he has you, he can’t let you go. Ever.

“Work was fine. Buck and I had to do introduction training with some rookies. They didn’t even leave a scratch.” Steve laughs, hooking his fingers in your sweatpants, tugging them down slightly so your entire stomach is on display. “How was your day, mama? Productive?”

It is slightly distracting as Steve kisses your belly. You scrunch your eyebrows in concentration, your fingers resting in his blond locks. “I painted some of the nursery.” You say shyly, face flushing as he begins to murmur sweet nothings to your stomach. “Just did the trims. There was a few deliveries that came, too, but they were too heavy for me to move. Didn’t wanna hurt myself.”

“Good girl.” Steve’s breath fans against your stomach, his head nestling against you, his hands tugging your sweatpants down some more. “I’ll move them after dinner, get ‘em all sorted,” he tells you, eyes eagerly trained in on your panties as your sweatpants drop to the floor.

It takes everything in him not to let an audible groan crawl out of his mouth. The panties you’re wearing are lacy and baby pink - similar to the ones you wore the first time he fucked you, and it sends another terrible ache to his cock. You squeal as Steve presses a soft kiss to your clothed pussy, and he can hear how quickly your heart begins to race in your chest.

“Steve - Steve, stop, I have a question. Steve, it’s serious!” He stops, looking up at you with his big blue eyes which glisten with mischief. You almost don’t want to ask because he seems so giddy - but then you have caught him in a good mood, so you’ll risk it anyway. Your heart tightens in your chest, and your lips set into a frown when you ask, “I was wondering - uh, when I have our baby - could I - could I go back to work?”

Steve reacts like you’ve just slapped him across the face. His smile drops, and his eyebrows furrow. Just when he thinks you've learned, when he thinks he’s finally flushed you out of this ridiculous twenty-first-century feminist bullshit, it drags you back in.

A woman’s place is not at work. It’s in the home.

"Why do you need to work when you have me?" Steve's voice is eerily calm, and his stubble brushes against your inner thigh. You still against him, tense as your fingers stop in his hair, and he can hear your heart gently racing in your chest.

"It's - it's just something I'd like to do. To keep myself occupied."

Steve groans, rubbing his nose into your skin. "You will be occupied, doll. You'll have a baby to raise."

You gnaw at your lip. Steve’s eyes are intense, and he tries not to bark out an order for you to stop. gnawing on your lips. He despises it when you do that. “We could always get a babysitter so I could go back to work,” you suggest, voice faltering when you notice his eyes darken slightly.

"No. It is your job as a mother to look after our children, sweetheart.” He shakes his head. “Besides, I don’t trust anybody else to raise them.”

"Steve-"

"I don't want to talk about this anymore." Steve grunts from below you, his blue eyes darkening as he gazes up at you. "In fact, I don't want this mentioned again - ever - do I make myself clear?"

“Steve-“

“Do I make myself clear?”

You pout, nodding silently, and Steve lets out an exasperated sigh. His cool breath fans against your thigh, and his thumb doesn’t stop brushing your stomach. He wonders where he ever went wrong with you. You’ve been so good recently, and he ponders on why you have to ruin it. Steve thinks you do it on purpose, rile him up as a way to show one last act of fiery defiance.

He’ll be the bigger person today.

“I can work for us. I can provide for us. Your job as my personal assistant is irrelevant now that you’re carrying our baby.” Steve peppers another gentle kiss against your clothed pussy, and you shudder, your eyes fluttering shut slightly as his fingers hook around the waistband of your underwear, gently beginning pulling them down. “You’ll have everything you’ve ever wanted. Everything you’ve ever needed. Put your faith in me, doll, that’s all I ask.”

“Okay, Steve.” Your throat feels tight when you swallow, your knees buckling slightly as Steve’s tongue licks a stripe up your pussy. It sends you by surprise - a hot white flash shoots up through your spine as you tighten your grip in his hair.

“You're soaking, doll,” he murmurs as he parts your thighs with his hands, pressing gentle kisses against your heat. It does feel good - Steve's entire focus is you, and he gently rolls his tongue against your nub, circling his tongue from your clit to your hole and then back up to your clit. "Do you just love the thought of having my babies and taking care of them, baby? Does it get you as riled up as it does me?”

It's embarrassing that Steve's words make your pussy throb. It's even more embarrassing that he knows, a satisfied smirk painting his lips as he dips his tongue into your sweet nectar again. His tongue darts around your clit, and your knees wobble slightly at the action, your hands gripping onto him for support. "Roll against my face, baby, it's okay. I know you want to." His words of encouragement make you mewl, and you do just that - roll your hips against his face, your vision going starry as his tongue swirls against your clit perfectly, the stimulation making the knot in your stomach tighten.

"Steve," you whimper out, your eyes fluttering shut as your legs wobble, his large hands coming up to hold them in place. The feeling of his fingers darting across your thighs sends butterflies to your stomach, and you whine as his tongue keeps flicking against you, making sure to hit every angle of yours he knows that you like.

You hate how much he knows you. You hate how he knows that you're about to cum as your legs give way. Steve hums, the vibrations sending shocks to your pussy, your fingers curling in his hair, the grip tight. You see stars, and hot flashes shoot through you - the knot inside of you tightens and tightens until you feel it snap, to which you cry out, flooding Steve's face with your wetness. And he loves it - he fucking loves it, soothing praises escaping his lips as he quite literally licks your clean, his fingers rubbing soft circles on your thighs.

It's terrible how much you ache when he pulls away from you, how much you miss the feeling of his hot breath fanning against your pussy. Steve stands, his head nestling in your neck, his hands rubbing smooth circles against your stomach. You pant against him, still coming down from your high when you hear a timer ding in the distance of your kitchen.

"Dinner's ready," you murmur, looking up at Steve, flushing as his deep blue eyes stare down at you.

"Dessert before dinner. Not my usual go-to," he comments, to which you laugh.

When he enters the kitchen, the table is already set. You both eat with no mention of your old job - it’s like all defiance within you has melted away, opting to believe that Steve is right. Opting to believe that Steve will do right by you.

[sunjaesol]

soljae | different timeline, adult!soljae, melancholy | prompt: thrive

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

Mindlessly scrolling through Twitter, Sunjae paid little attention to the hair and make-up artists flitting around him with brushes and hot tools. As long as he kept still, they could work efficiently and he would leave his dressing room immaculate.

Beside him, other actors were getting their hair and make-up done. Some Japanese rapper was blaring from someone's speaker, drowning out the noise of the hair dryer. Some were napping, going over their lines, or, like him, doom-scrolling online.

My Colleague Made Me Blush A Thousands Suns was a drama he was currently filming, playing the second male lead. A role he often got typecasted as. Which was... fine, if not a slight blow to the ego.

He figured he had enough experience on his resume for a casting director to give him a chance, but he knew the fickle nature of the industry. It was already a miracle that he was a relatively known and respected actor in the field. His manager said he had his height to thank.

After filming, he had a networking dinner tonight. Sunjae rather looked forward to diving into bed and watching some American sports movie, but alas—appearing at social events was part of the job description.

He couldn't complain, he reminded himself. He had the job of his dreams, financial security, a nice place, a tight-knit group of friends and a flawless reputation. People would kill for a life like his.

And yet.

For a while now... he couldn't really describe it... but in the last couple of months, he has been feeling empty. Or rather: never-quite fulfilled, like someone had stolen the last bite of a meal. He felt himself looking over his shoulder, or watching the front door late at night; waiting, expecting. But there was nothing to expect. He had his life in order.

Inhyuk would immediately assume that what Sunjae was missing was a girlfriend, but that felt too simple of a statement and it didn't encompass that odd, melancholic feeling. Besides, he wasn't looking for a relationship; he was a content single man.

(Quietly—embarrassingly—he did wonder at times if something was wrong with him. Why didn't he crave companionship? Why did his attraction to women stay surface-level? Was there something inherently broken or—if he were to take a romantic's perspective—was his very soul waiting for The One?)

He wished to shake off this feeling, but it stuck to him like glue.

"Sunjae-ssi?"

Snapping out of his thoughts, he realised his thumb had been hovering over his screen for a while now, unmoving. He looked up at the make-up artist. "Yes?"

"You're ready. You can wait for the director's directions now."

"Ah, thank you." He rose from the chair.

As he walked out of the room, the male lead passed him by with a large, iced Americano and the script rolled under his armpit. He was shorter than Sunjae, but he had the face that all male leads had—something unattainable, masculine, and relatable all at once. The actors were amicable, but Sunjae doubted they'd hang out much after promotions wrapped.

(And yeah, Sunjae was a little jealous of him. Why wasn't he 'unattainable, masculine and relatable' all at once? That would maybe solve his issue.)

Walking onto set, he watched as two actors from the ensemble were in the middle of adlibbing a comedic scene. A production assistant walked up to him with the latest director's notes and script changes. An on-set make-up artist immediately checked him for any imperfections. It wasn't like this on every set, but this one ran like a well-oiled machine.

Again, he had nothing to complain about. Ryu Sunjae was thriving.

... And yet.

His eyes skimmed over the notes, perplexed. "He wants to remove the kiss between Doha and Minju?"

The assistant shrugged. "Some executive producer doesn't think it's a good idea."

Sunjae frowned. "But we've been leading up to it. That's what my character is for. To confuse the female lead."

"I know." The assistant cringed. "I'm just relaying the message."

Nodding, he read the notes again. Those executive producers loved to throw around their opinion as though it held the same merit as the money they possessed. Now his character's arc made no sense.

With a huff, Sunjae tucked the notes into his script. He would for sure talk to the director about this once it was time to film his parts.

"Can you believe it? They totally removed his arc!" A voice behind him perked up, indiginified, speaking to someone else.

Looking over his shoulder, he watched two crew members speaking to each other. Or rather: one was, animatedly so.

"Remind me again why executives have all the power?" the same person asked, miffed.

Her colleague shushed her. "Because they have all the money. Now be quiet. You're the intern, don't start shit you cannot solve."

The woman looked much older than some twenty-year-old intern, Sunjae observed. More about his age. She had a short stature and a square-ish face, long hair piled in a claw clip at the back of her head. Like all of the crew, she wore dark, unassuming clothing.

She pursed her lips. "I'm not saying I'm going to solve it, but I'm just saying... even if they have all the money, doesn't the director... or even the actors... have some say in the matter? The character of Doha is so integral to Minju's growth. It would be a shame if that kiss was scrapped."

"I think so, too," Sunjae found himself saying, grabbing the attention of the women. Walking towards them, he got a better look of them.

The experienced crew member turned as pale as a ghost and bowed her head, apologies about gossiping spilling from her lips.

The intern also bowed her head, though less pronounced, and mumbled a similar apology. Yeah, she definitely wasn't twenty years old. Someone younger would've been peeing their pants about now.

He dismissed them, his gaze sticking to the intern. "Don't apologise. I agree. It's a shame my character's arc is possibly getting reduced."

The intern nodded. She seemed quite pleased that he agreed with her, a slight grin growing on the edges of her lips in the same way that lured people to view the Mona Lisa. "You're going to speak to the director, right?"

"I will."

"Good." Her colleague elbowed her. "I mean, that seems like a smart decision, Sunjae-ssi."

It was almost imperciptible, the way his head tilted slightly after she said his name. He heard that a million times a day. Sunjae-ssi. Sunjae-ssi. Sunjae-ssi. Yet hers... no, he found it too embarrassing to admit. (He found that she said it the sweetest.)

Sunjae coughed, feeling a lump in his throat. "Oh, uh, what're you interning for, by the way?"

"Oh, I'm sorry." This time she bowed for real. "I didn't introduce myself." She smiled. "I'm Im Sol. I'm an intern in the writer's room for the show."

Sunjae blinked.

Oh.

Im Sol.

A sudden swell in his stomach, his chest, his head bloomed at the sound of her name. Im Sol. The physical sensation made him dizzy.

Im Sol.

A short, breathy laugh puffed from his lips. "Right. Um. Hi. Im Sol." The name came out like it was his own. "Welcome on board. Um." The disorienting feeling wouldn't fade. She, however, simply looked at him in confusion. "I have to get ready."

He walked away in seconds, grabbing his racing chest.

Im Sol.

Im Sol.

Why did it feel like that name has left his lips as many times as he has breathed?

Im Sol.

Im Sol.

Im Sol, where have we met before?

[w1shes43]

Forbidden Proximity

- (TMR) Newt x reader

Summary: Takes place in "The Fever Code", before an examination test, you meet the beloved Newt. After meeting him, things start to be different and someone warned you to watch your proximity. But you think you're doing just the opposite.

Taglist: @heliads

A/N: AHHH, IT'S FINALLY FINISHED!! This fic took me so long. Motivation came and left like 1000 times. Sorry about that, and here it is!! Also, let's just imagine that newt is not like a minor here and is his movie age ;_; The ending is a bit rushed as I just wanted to get this fic finished tbh.

----☆----

Wake up, examinations and tests, eat food, maybe add a hint of some learning and then sleep. And it's repeating the same routine every day, over and over again. It's been like this for you ever since you got taken in this facility called W.I.C.K.E.D. They're not so harsh towards you but you saw and heard from others of what they can be like when they're angry so you usually do what you're told to be on their good side.

But life in this facility is very repetitive and dull so you always opt to do something fun once in a while, being extremely discreet of course. Whether it's going to see your friends in their rooms during night or sneaking to catch a look at the other group, Group A. You have to admit you don't know why you all have to be separated into different groups, maybe they don't want certain people interacting with each other? You found the question lingering in your mind for a while, so you plan to ask at your next examination, which is tomorrow, that very question.

You sat on your bed, waiting in your room for Dr. Paige to do some tests on you, observing around your room trying to pass time. You always seem to land on the clock. Time ticking like usual, you wondered how the clock can be so perfectly timed to the real time, but then again just another question to add to your pile.

"Questions and questions" you sighed, looking down at your feet, swinging them back and forth. You realised you were getting taller which makes you glad because Harriet used to tease you about your height, saying how you won't be able to reach anything. Guess you could prove her wrong now, you slightly chuckled at that.

The door opens and you look up thinking you were going to see Dr. Paige but instead a tall lady with round glasses. She had a firm look on her face as she approached you,

"Y/N, Dr. Paige is quite busy for a while so she won't be able to do your test right now."

She stated, looking at her clipboard which had some files on it, "She will do your examination in about half an hour. Please come with me to another test room."

You nodded as you got up from the bed to follow her out the door. She shut the door and you walked beside her as she brought you to the elevator and pressed a few buttons, you waited for about a minute and the doors opened to the 2nd floor. She ushered you to walk beside her as you looked around the 2nd floor, you've only been here once before and that was the first time you got examined.

You followed her into the first room on your right, and she told you to sit down and that she would inform you when Dr. Paige was here. As she left, you looked around the room and noticed that there was a blonde haired boy on the other side of the room, he had his head in his hands and he seemed to be the same age as you. You assumed both of you were here for tests.

You walked over to him and sat down on the empty chair beside him, the sound of the chair made him look up and he met your eyes.

"Oh hello there." The blonde smiled, you noticed he sounded a bit different, he definitely had an accent, not that you minded though it sounded nice. "You here for an examination too?"

You nodded and smiled back, "Yeah I am, how long have you been waiting here?" You asked, curious to talk to this boy.

"Probably been waiting for about 10 minutes?" He said, stretching his arms "I'm not really counting the time to be honest with ya, just waiting for this to be done and over with. So I can go and hang with my mates."

You raised an eyebrow, "Mates? What do you mean by that?"

"I mean my friends," he laughed, but then leaned in to whisper "We all usually hang out after our tests, obviously wicked doesn't know that, so keep it a secret for me and you could join us too." The blonde boy winked as he whispered the last part.

You chuckled, a corner of your lips developing a small smile. "Don't worry, your secrets are safe with me. And I didn't catch your name?"

"Name's Newt, pleased to meet you.. ?"

His sentence trailing off at the end in hopes of getting your name.

But before you could answer his last statement, the door swung open and you were greeted by two people, Dr. Paige and the other lady from earlier. They looked at the both of you and nodded to you, Dr. Paige calling your name as she was about to take your examination.

You nodded back to her and stood up from your chair, turning to Newt before you approached them, "Y/N. Pleased to meet you too." You smiled and waved at him as you followed behind Dr. Paige.

Your walk back to your room was silent, you usually would talk to Dr. Paige about a lot of things, how you were doing with learning and food or something along the lines of vital sign check ups. But this time you were silent, smiling to yourself as you thought about your encounter with the blonde boy, Newt was his name. Well not his actual name, as you knew they gave everyone different names but you thought it suited him, it was an oddly interesting name. To be honest you thought he was pretty cute too, you haven't talked to a boy your age since forever, before you even came to this place.

Smiling away to yourself must have caught Dr. Paige's attention as she talked to you as you both turned the hallway, heading to your room.

"Something on your mind Y/N? You look rather happy there." She spoke as she opened the door to your room, holding the door open so you could walk inside.

As you entered the room you sat on your bed, nodding to Dr. Paige's last statement.

She took a seat in front of you and got ready the equipment for your tests.

"Yeah I would say so, although I have a weird feeling in my stomach when I think about this certain … thing." You admitted, looking down at your feet and watching them swing back and forth again.

"Weird feeling in your stomach about a certain topic you say? Is this very recent or has this been happening for a while?" As she questioned you, she got ready the syringe for your injection and you took that as a sign to roll up your sleeve on your left arm.

"Quite recent. Actually right before you came to the room on the second floor."

She stopped and gave you a look.

"It's about Newt isn't it? That boy you met there?" She asked and her thoughts were confirmed when you looked at her and nodded. She sighed, "Y/N, that weird feeling you are talking about is called attraction or well starting out as a liking. We are specifically trying to prevent this though, it might interfere with your progress in tests. So please try not to think about him or even try to see him for that matter."

Dr. Paige had this firm look on her face, the one you heard about when Wicked employees got angry, you definitely didn't want to aggravate her even more but you still had to ask one more question, a very risky one considering the topic of the conversation.

"Dr. Paige, why do we have different groups, like why do you have to separate all of us?"

You looked at her eager for her answer as it could explain things. But she just pinched the bridge of her nose as she let out an annoyed sigh and with a sharp tone dodged your question.

"Y/N, enough questions. Remember you are here for one reason and that's to save the world. Everything we do is for your own good, be grateful you are even alive after what's going on out there." She snapped and looked you dead in the eyes.

Your eyes widened, you were stunned, Dr. Paige never raised her voice at you before. What was so wrong about the question you asked? You just wanted to understand their ways of running things, surely that's not a bad question but you assumed it was since she yelled at you.

She swiftly injected the needle into your arm, taking a blood sample for your test. And quickly put it into a plastic bag and sealed it inside another bag.

She turned around and headed for the door,

"I'll have some food delivered to your room so no need to go to the cafeteria for lunch. Remember Y/N, you're here to save the world, not question how things are."

And without another spoken word, she left and closed the door to your room.

You just stared at the closed door, pondering on what she said. You've always heard those words before 'Save the world.' How though? And wouldn't it be easier to save the world if we understood what's going on inside and outside? You scrunch your hair in annoyance and lay your head in your hands and thought for a bit.

You know what?

You were going to see Newt again.

But you have to think of a discreet way to meet up with him. How in the world are you even going to find him?

You could try and go back to that waiting room you were in earlier but chances are he's already gone and done his examination.

You usually catch a look at Group A, but that's through the vents and you don't really know your way around there as well as Harriet or someone else in your group.

As you try to think of ways to find him, your thoughts are interrupted when someone knocks on your door, it opens and it is one of your great friends, Harriet. You both smile and run for a hug, "How did your examination go?" Harriet asked, pulling away from the hug.

"I don't know what to think, I just hope I haven't angered Dr. Paige. But before the examination I was in a room and there was a boy there." You explained the whole thing, from meeting the boy Newt and to asking Dr. Paige about the 2 groups.

And this conversation led to Harriet coming up with a plan to sneak you into one of Group A's testing rooms in hopes of finding and meeting someone from the other group, or even better Newt.

She would start off by going to get some "lunch" and while doing that she would distract the guards so you could sneak into Group A's testing rooms. But you had to watch out for other employees that might leave the rooms and also cameras. But you would check every room and see if Newt is there.

Hiding behind corners and dodging employees wasn't easy, you were suprised that you even got this far. You looked around, no one. The employees may have taken a break or something, not that you minded, it made this a whole lot easier for you, less hiding.

...

"Well, hello there." A voice from behind you spoke. You jumped at the sudden sound, swiftly turning to see who had spoken and you had hoped that it wasn't Dr. Paige or any of the employees for that matter.

To your suprise, you were met with honey brown eyes, the same eyes of the boy you were looking for. At least you didn't have to look too far to find him.

"I thought I'd see you again, just didn't expect it to be so soon?" He raised a brow, inspecting you. But before he could ask any further questions, you pulled him into a nearby room.

"Okay before you ask anything, I need to make sure this room is safe before we get caught being somewhere we're not supposed to be." You explained, closing the door quickly and glancing around the room.

"Technically, you're not supposed to be here, but here we are." He smirked while you just rolled your eyes, he continued, "I mean, I'm not complaining and I think this room will be perfectly safe, considering that it's my room." He chuckled, and when you turned around with wide eyes, he just smiled.

"Well," you started, "I thought about your offer to join you and your friends and I gladly will." You smiled softly, but your smile grew even wider when you saw how the boy in front of you had a slight red face with another smile.

"You did all that effort to tell me this? You seem very dedicated Y/N."

Oh, you have no idea, you thought.

You spent what felt like hours with him, laughing along and chatting about anything under the sun. Even hearing a bit of his past but you didn't want to pry too much into it.

Your first meeting with Group A went quite well you would think, you quickly made friends with most them of them and even if Gally and Minho were quite skeptical of you at first, they warmed up to you eventually and even shared a couple of their jokes with you.

But as quickly as you made friends with them, the quicker your relationship with Newt grew to be stronger and you had hoped, he felt the same as you. Days turn into weeks and your time spent with him made your whole life better even if you weren't supposed to be of close proximity to him.

But as good things come, they always have to go. You found yourself running through the long bright lit corridors of the wicked facility.

Hoping to get there in time.

Hoping to get that one last chance.

Hoping you weren't too late.

With tear filled eyes, you start remembering the one memory you hoped would never leave you - Newt's confession.

One day, he pulled you aside when you were about to sneak out to go see all your friends.

He softly took your hands and placed them in his own.

"Um.. I don't know if you felt the same, but it did take me a while to realise it wasn't just some weird feeling I had about you, you made me feel like I could trust you, I felt..."

He scrunched his eyes in search of the right words to tell you, "Comfortable around you and safe, mainly safe. My point being, I like you. A lot, in fact, I can't really fathom why my brain works that way, but I hope you understand what I mean." His hope filled eyes begged you, not moving his worried scene that danced around his face.

You thought it was adorable and were quick to calm his worrying thoughts.

"Yes, I understand what you mean," you said with a laugh. "I feel the same way Newt."

How did wicked find out? But then again, they always are monitoring you. They always find out, or maybe they always knew.

Maybe you should have seen this coming.

But nothing always goes your way, you were aware of the Maze, they started sending your friends into one, a few weeks ago.

You were quickly made aware by some of your friends that they were going to send Newt into one. And not at the usual time he was supposed to go in. He was supposed to go a few weeks after.

You ran to the one place you knew you would find him before it would be too late. The hideout.

When you entered, you found him pacing around the room. He heard your footsteps and looked up and locked his dark eyes with you.

Just by looking at him, without even saying anything, you knew what he was thinking, and you wanted to save him from all this.

"Don't leave, why can't you just stay here?" You pleaded with him, grabbing his hands to curl them up into yours. "We could leave, run away right now, or even -"

He pulled you into a hug, wrapping his arms around your waist and hugging you like you're his source of life. You went silent and returned the hug. It was quiet for a good while, and you felt as if the white noise could swallow you both whole until Newt spoke.

"I want you to know that even if I die, or something happens and I might never see you again," his breath hitched in his throat, eyes dreading even the thought of it, "Nothing would ever make me forget you. I would go to the ends of the earth just to do this all over again if it meant being by your side, being here with you is the best thing that has ever happened to me."

Tears that have flowed down his cheeks have now dripped onto the cold floor. The same room, same building that you first met, the sweet hearted boy. Even if you didn't know what would happen next, you knew for certain you loved him.

You knew you were never meant to be near him in the first place, but you did just the opposite.

"I'll love you forever and always."

He wiped the oncoming tears from your eyes with his thumb and smiled. You wish you could just capture this moment and stay with him forever.

The doors opened, and your warm hands quickly became cold as the warmth from him slowly drifted away from you.

[a-killer-obsession]

It's a SMUT Blog so I'm not shy to ask 😋.. Kid and Killers dicks..how do they differ from eachother? Length and Girth? Piercings? Hair? Circumsized with thick veins? 🤤

I saw this right before going to sleep but I was too eepy to answer, so instead I just kept thinking about it which means now it's gonna be a whole thing *flexes fingers*

I won't talk on circumcised tho cos its not really a thing in my country so I don't know much about it, in all my years of slutting around I never met a circumcised dick, but I'll include some other saucy details

Anway, now presenting:

☠️ Kid Pirates ☠️

Equipment headcannons 🍆

🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

Kid

Smallest of the gang in length at barely 7" but built like a fucking monster energy can with a girth that'll split you right in fucking half

No piercings, thick prominent veins. Hes pale as hell and that extends to his dick, with skin that translucent its practically red when it's engorged

I think since he never even has stubble after being in prison that he can't actually grow a beard, so by that thinking I reckon he doesn't actually have much hair on the rest of his body other than a thin ginger scattering. So his bush is bright fucking red and untrimmed but there's not that much to begin with

The biggest balls you'll ever see on a man, he's built for breeding

Decently big loads when he comes, but they're super thick so they don't go far

Absolutely rancid dick tho tbh, it'll have you gagging for all the wrong reasons. Someone get this man in a bath fr

Grower

Killer

Second longest after Wire at 8", slender and fairly smooth, the prettiest dick you'll ever see with a slight curve (like his scythes, ha)

One piercing at the end that Kid convinced him to get, he'll use his devil fruit to vibrate it if he wants Killer's ✨️attention✨️

Slightly darker than his tan skin, pretty in pink at the head

Thick blonde pubes that stand out against his tanned skin, with a lovely happy trail, but he keeps it tidy and clean 👌

Cums a shit ton, long thin spurts that'll cover your whole torso and maybe even get your face if he's pent up. Masturbating is a whole fucking ordeal for him cos of the cleanup

Grower, but impressive flacid anyway

Heat

7.5", somewhere between Kid and Killer's girth, slightly more bulbous towards the end.

Strange colour considering his strange grey-brown skin. His dick is almost purple brown, more purple at the head.

Set of three piercings like a ladder up the underside. Veiny but not as prominent as Kid.

Full bush baby, and its WILD down there. Thick blue pubes to match his hairy legs and happy trail, he's never even considered trimming.

The most average cumshots of the crew, a pretty regular amount, generic consistency, short spurts, maybe long enough to hit your tits if he's pent up. Absolutely drips precum though

Shower (I realise now that word has two meanings. I mean show-er. Obviously)

Wire

An absolute fucking monster to match his height. 10" and THICK. Got into BDSM purely because it takes so fucking long to prep someone to take him that he needed something to spice up the long foreplay. There's no possibility for a quickie with this man, its a whole ordeal (please ask me about my Kid Pirate kinks please please please 🙏 edit: here they are)

Dark brown, almost chocolate at the tip. Veiny as hell. So big and heavy that it can't support it's own weight so its always dropping even full mast

Clean shaved, Wire is a man who takes the upmost pride and care when it comes to his dick. No piercings because his dick is already so massive he's scared the pressure would rip them clean out when he fucks

Hes like a endless fucking volcano when he cums and it's THICK. He prefers to finish inside but it's always so much that combined with his size it simply won't all fit. You'll be dripping for hours afterwards

Shower, I don't know where this man is keeping it in those shorts, tucked for sure

[luv4georgie]

this is what makes us girls.

slightly toxic!Daniel Ricciardo x female!reader

in which formula one star, Daniel Ricciardo, and his girlfriend, Y/n Y/l/n, go to a party to celebrate one of his 2024 wins (pretend) and drunk Daniel doesn’t realise he isn’t dancing with dear Y/n.

warnings: smoking, mean!Danny for a-bit, shouting (kinda), crying, fluffy towards the end (also kinda gaslighty?!)

NOT FROM READER NOR DANIEL’S PERSPECTIVE IT IS FROM A RANDOM GIRL!!!

“then she starts to cry, mascara running down her little bambi eyes”

it was pretty late. around 11pm, i’d say. i had been invited to this party by one of my friends, Y/n, you see… her boyfriend is a Formula One driver for… hm? i forgot the name but it is quite a long one. ah! Visa Cash App RB Formula One team. but let’s just call it.. RB for now.

as i was saying… it was late. around 11pm. i was looking for said driver and couldn’t really find him i just assumed he was somewhere in the middle of the massive crowd dancing with Y/n. i was wrong. sort of? he was dancing. in the middle of the crowd. but… not with Y/n. with a different girl. she was blonde and tall, around the same height as Daniel, and Y/n on the other hand was not. she was short and had (your/hair/colour) hair.

as i watched them dance -from the top of the balcony- in rhythm my eyes trailed along the people and spotted Y/n… she was standing there, absolutely furious. her eyes were glossy. she said something that i couldn’t hear nor read but i could tell she was talking to herself and her voice was shaky. she stood there watching. her bottom lip trembled and she left…

my eyes followed her as she ran out of the front door, her silky white dress flowing around her and her tight curls bouncing as she did so. a few seconds after she ran off i decided to go and find her. i walked, but quickly, down the stairs. “hey have you seen Y/n?” a thick Australian accent sounded in my ears. i just rolled my eyes and walked out the door.

i pulled my cigarettes and lighter out of my bra, lit one, took my heels off and put them down somewhere. i smoked and walked down the sandy path. i saw a girl. sat there. white silky dress. tight (your/hair/colour) curls. Y/n. her knees were pulled up to her chest and her chin rested on them. “Y/n?” i said. she whipped her head around, clearly unaware i was there, and wiped her tears quickly.

“oh Lana” she sniffled and laughed slightly at the same time. i took my cigarette from between my lips and sat down next to her on the cold sand. “what’s up sweet?” i asked. she just smiled and i noticed the black streaks down her face. “not much” she answered. i gave her a pointed look and raised my eyebrows. “ya sure?” i asked again, handing her my cigarette and letting her take a puff, then a tear rolled down her face. she just broke down into sobs that could rip a heart open. “oh Y/n” i said and wrapped my arms around her.

“Lana how i hate those guys” she said sobbing still. i buried my face into her curly hair and it smelt nice. “Y/n!” we heard. we both turned around to see the tall Australian. my eyes hardened when i saw him and my upper lip lifted, into a disgusted look. suddenly Y/n got up taking her heels with her. “what do you want?” she asked sternly. “why did you leave?” he asked almost jokingly. “because of you! because of your stupid fucking friends! because of that stupid fucking blondie!” she shouted at him. “what are you talking about!” he said, the question almost rhetorical. he knew exactly what she was talking about.

“im sorry” he said and walked over to her. she just let him. Y/n looked up at him unsure. he gave her a soft look which told her he was really sorry. she just sort of fell into his arms and stayed there. he lifted her up, grabbing the back of her thighs in the process. then he just looked up at me with a grin that told me he was not sorry. i was angry. so angry. but she was happy. but i just want to get her out of this mess. but i couldn’t. she wouldn’t listen anyway. but… after all… that’s what makes us girls.

-

thanks for reading! ♥️

this is a-bit different to my other works but guys!! please tell me if you like it and sorry this whole story barley even makes sense.

[onesidedradiostatic]

You know, I really hope that in season two Alastor and Lucifer become reluctant friends.

Those types of friends that everyone sees hate each other but when they team up they are a force to be reckoned with.

I imagine Lucifer mocking Alastor for losing to Adam and Alastor feigning respect only to end any interaction with a joke about Lucifer's height.

I imagine them fighting it at first, until they can no longer deny that they think the other is funny. Little by little they notice what they have in common.

I actually have the headcanon that Lucifer offers pancakes at the end but doesn't actually know how to cook since he can make everything appear with magic. And that brings me to the fact that Alastor is an excellent cook and for some reason home-cooked food is better. I want Alastor, just to be petty and because he can, to give Lucifer the best pancakes he has ever eaten in his entire existence and for Lucifer to hate every second he enjoys it. In revenge, Lucifer makes a rubber duck for Alastor and, without wanting to admit it, he is impressed by the work.

I want that when Lucifer meets Vox, at first he is willing to join him against Alastor, until he realizes that Vox is insufferable and that in fact television does melt your brain. I imagine Lucifer and Vox mocking Alastor for losing to Adam until Lucifer sees that Vox is taking everything too far and responds "Hey, you damn coward, at least he fought."

And that ends up selling for Alastor, now this guy is his friend...but he doesn't have to like him.

While for Lucifer it is the realization that, yes this guy is just a sinner, but he was willing to take on Adam alone and got seriously hurt for it, and even though his motives are unclear, he protected the hotel and his precious Charlie as much as he could, so now this guy is his friend...but he doesn't have to like him.

I can see it, I mean it's not like their beef was ever anything DEEP, like these two met for the first time and started immediate beef with each other I need to know what the fuck is wrong with them. I think with something as surface level and petty as whatever the fuck hell's greatest dad was, it wouldn't be difficult for them to realise hey the other actually isn't that bad (being petty to each other is still funny though). like it's a different case from like alastor and vox where they USED to be friends and have actual history with each other and reasons for falling out with each other, causing their rivalry. you could almost call it an inverse where they used to be cool with each other before realising hey the other actually SUCKS (I like to think it's more reasonable on alastor's end though where he actually started to disagree with vox's attitude whereas vox got petty cause alastor rejected him)

[nahoney22]

Hello! Sorry, back at with a nother request. Definitely no stress! I just thought something cute between Wrecker and a female reader who is super short and tiny would be cute or funny. I could see h just being fascinated and amused at the size difference. Again, definitely no stress. Hope your doing well and practicing proper self care!

Double, no Triple

Wrecker X F!Reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings: none, mainly fluff. Short female reader. Meet-cute. Not proofread. Flirting. Teasing. Slight mentions of stereotyping short reader.

Authors note: I’m glad that you’re willing to request from me again. Thanks for the kind words. 😌 Queued Post. Sorry the wait.

"And there we have it."

You grunted, struggling to maintain your balance as your boss carelessly added another box to the towering stack you were already carrying. The load was now so immense that it obscured your entire head from view. Suppressing your frustration, you couldn't help but mutter under your breath, "Why couldn't someone else handle this?" Your bitter remark elicited a chuckle from your boss, who promptly sent you on your way.

Usually, you didn't mind taking on delivery jobs. They provided a welcome respite from the stifling atmosphere of the shop and allowed you to breathe in the fresh air. Moreover, you did enjoy taking a leisurely stroll through the bustling city stalls on your return.

However, today was an entirely different story. The towering boxes you were burdened with made it impossible to indulge in such pleasures. You could barely see where you were going, and with every accidental collision, you found yourself offering apologies to everyone.

If only you were a little taller, this wouldn't be such a challenge. Although your stature was far from commanding, what you lacked in height, you made up for with personality and heart.

Although you thought you knew the route like the back of your hand, the darkening streets, engulfed in the shadows of towering buildings, gave you an inkling that you might be heading in the wrong direction. Letting out a sigh of frustration, you dropped the boxes with an exasperated huff, cringing at the sound of something shattering inside. In that moment, your focus shifted entirely from the contents of the boxes to your surroundings, desperately trying to figure out where you had ended up.

As you glanced at your data pad, frustration evident on your face, you decided to take matters into your own hands. Setting a waypoint that would emit a reassuring ding each time you moved in the right direction, you turned to the scattered boxes on the ground, placing your hands on your hips and letting out another exasperated sigh. "How am I going to pick all of you up?"

Suddenly, a booming voice echoed from behind you, causing you to jump in surprise. “Need some help there, ma’am?”

You turned around to find a towering figure approaching. Clad in dark armor with a helmet adorned with a painted skull, he exuded an aura of intimidation. If it weren't for the desolate street and the absence of bystanders, you might have felt more at ease. However, as he halted in front of you, you couldn't help but gulp, craning your neck to meet his gaze.

He was far taller than you, doubling, no, tripling your height. But as he removed his helmet, revealing kind eyes, your apprehension began to fade.

"I said, do you need some help, ma'am?" he repeated, gesturing towards the scattered boxes. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you realised you had been standing there, silently gazing up at him instead of responding. Pausing for a moment, you felt a hint of apprehension.

"That depends..." you replied slowly, glancing at him from the corner of your eye, noticing the prominent scar across his raised eyebrow. "Are you just going to pretend to help and then steal them? I'm a lot tougher than I look, I'll have you know."

He let out a warm and hearty chuckle that instantly brought a smile to your face. "I don't doubt tha’ for a second," he chuckled, raising an eyebrow before extending his hand down towards you. "Name's Wrecker."

You reciprocated with your name, shaking his hand firmly with your own, feeling the strength in his grip. "Nice to meet you, Wrecker. But yeah, I could definitely use some help. I took a wrong turn and now I can't pick them up."

"Not a problem for me!" he exclaimed with a grin. You watched, impressed, as he effortlessly lifted the boxes, balancing them atop one another with just one hand. "Where are we headed, lil’ lady?"

You rolled your eyes playfully at the nickname, a common one you often received, but somehow, the way he said it seemed endearing.

As you both set off in the correct direction, the weight of the conversation became as light and easy as the burden of the boxes had been lifted from your hands. Engaging in small talk, you discovered that Wrecker was not only talkative but also strong and incredibly likable.

"So, why didn't your boss assign someone, you know, bigger for this task?" Wrecker asked, his deep voice carrying a hint of amusement.

"Funny, I actually asked the same question," you replied with a sigh of relief, grateful that the boxes were now safely in the hands of this gentle giant. "I suppose they trust me enough."

He chuckled, his laughter resonating warmly. Then, he inquired about your line of work, and you learned that Wrecker was a soldier—a clone for the GAR. "You're much larger than the other clones, if you don't mind me saying," you remarked, genuinely curious.

"Not at all. It's only fair that ya talk about my height when I've mentioned yours multiple times," he replied sheepishly, puffing his chest out proudly as you continued walking together. "I actually serve in a different unit than the 'Regs'."

"But enough about me," he said, his gaze locked with yours as you approached the drop-off point. There was a twinkle in his eye that caught your attention. "Are you single?"

You took a sip of water from the canteen attached to your hip, nearly choking on it in surprise, which only elicited another hearty laugh from him. "Well, are you?" he pressed, his curiosity evident.

"Slow down, buddy," you giggled softly, feeling a warmth spreading through you at his question. It amazed you that he seemed genuinely interested in such a short span of time. "We've only just met."

"Just an innocent question. You don't need to answer," he replied softly, placing the boxes down as you reached your destination. He turned to face you, his expression open and attentive.

"If you must know," you began shyly, realising that there was no reason to shy away from the possibility of a friendship or even a romantic connection, "I am single."

A coy grin played on his lips, and he nodded appreciatively. "That's surprising."

"Oh, really?" you quipped, raising an eyebrow in playful curiosity.

"Yeah, you're cute," he said casually, though a touch of nervousness crept into his voice as he rubbed the back of his head.

You smirked, meeting his gaze directly. "Cute as in 'I could put you in my pocket because you're so small cute,' or...?" You raise your hands using air quotations.

He let out a soft chuckle, his eyes filled with sincerity. "As in, ‘I think you're a beautiful girl. And I'd like to take you out one evening’. If you're free." His words were gentle, his nerves palpable.

As you gazed up at him, a myriad of emotions swirling within you, you found yourself considering his proposition. The blush on your cheeks deepened as his smile widened, and your heart danced with excitement. Giving in to the temptation, you decided to take a leap of faith and accept his offer. You shared your contact details with him, your grin mirroring his own.

"I'd like that, sure," you say, your voice filled with genuine enthusiasm. His eyes sparkled with delight as he nodded, a happy expression adorning his handsome face.

"W-Well, that's great!" he exclaimed, his words accompanied by a slight stutter, clearly surprised that you had agreed. "But I'd also like to put you in my pocket sometime too," he added with a mischievous smirk, his playful remark drawing a giggle from you.

A gentle warmth spread through your heart as you returned his smile. It was as if Wrecker could read your thoughts, because you wanted to lean up and kiss his cheek for both a farewell and for helping you out. But seeing as there was a significant height difference, he takes the lead and takes your hand, leaning down and kissing it gently.

"I hope to see ya soon," he murmured softly. "Don't go asking other guys to help you with more boxes anytime soon, unless it's me." His words held a touch of fake possessiveness, his playful tone and genuine smile making your heart flutter even more.

You chuckled, feeling a newfound connection forming between you. "I promise, Wrecker. You'll be my go-to guy for any box-carrying needs.”

With a final exchange of smiles and a lingering sense of anticipation, you both parted ways, leaving you with a mind full of excitement for the future.

Masterlist

More Wrecker Works

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[hansensunshine]

Could you please do a mommy Daenerys x little sister reader please where some lords were hitting on reader and making her uncomfortable so she goes to Dany and she takes her up to their room and takes care of her(some smut maybe) then later burns the lords that hit on reader please.

I hope you had a lovely start to December and don’t feel pressured to do this if you don’t have enough time I just love your work 🙂

omg i’d love to write that, loving mommy! daenerys hours!! and thank you so so much, i hope you’ve had a lovely start to december too <3

— 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐃𝐎𝐍’𝐓 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄 𝐀 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒.

pairings: mommy! daenerys targaryen x little sister! reader

synopsis: you are daenerys’ last alive sibling and frankly, she loves you more than a sibling should.

tw: mommy kink, indication of smut, death

summary: after feeling uncomfortable by being hit on by some lords, you run to daenerys for comfort.

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you had been outside in the gardens greeting some lords on their arrival here. as much as you didn’t really want to, you did it so people can see you as someone who isn’t by her older sisters side all the time.

you have found the lords quite friendly, maybe a bit too friendly. “welcome my lords, i hope the journey wasn’t too harsh.” you spoke with a soft tone, having a smile across your face. “i’m sure you’ll all enjoy your time here.” as you were briefly showing the lords around, you noticed a few speaking about you but you paid no attention to it, still having a smile across your face. “as you see, we have arrived at the—“ “i’m surprised a lord hasn’t come to marry you yet, or at least fucked you.” a few of them laughed, making you feel slightly uncomfortable, before another lord spoke.“she’s a precious little thing.” he put his hand on your cheek, with you flinching away. “and delicate, apparently.” you couldn’t help but feel tears coming to your eyes, nobody talking to you like this other than your older sister, daenerys. a different lord approaches you and starts to play with you hair. you wish daenerys was here to protect you.

“such silky hair. she’s a true princess. sad that she’s in her sister’s shadow.” you couldn’t help but look down. “but good for one of us, as we’ll get a chance to marry her and fuck her every night.” he chuckled loudly as the others do before looking up at them all, with a tear falling down your face, feeling extremely uncomfortable. “dany would never marry me off to one of you!” before you could help but breakdown you ran away from them, leaving them in the gardens.

as you were going to your own room, you bumped into daenerys and immediately wiped your tears away with your sleeve. daenerys gave you such a big smile as she hasn’t really seen you all day before noticing something was wrong. you didn’t want to say anything at first because you know how protective she is of you.“y/n. what happened?” she crouched to your height before letting her hand caress your soft cheek. “some lords they—“ you could help but cry. she took you in her arms and picked you up, letting your legs wrap around her waist. she took you off into her bedroom before closing the door behind her. she walks over to her bed before sitting down on it with you straddling her.

“some lords.. they kept making me feel uncomfortable, mommy..” you buried your face into her neck, now realising her nickname rolled off your tongue so smoothly, you felt so small with her in your presence. you looked back up at her as she looked at you with worry but also anger, which you knew wasn’t directed at you. “they flirted with me and— and.. they touched me and played with my hair, i wish you were there, mommy!” you wrapped your arms around her as she didn’t let go of your small body. she placed a kiss on your forehead before you calmed down slightly. you looked up at her with a small smile of yours before an idea pops into her head. “how about you let mommy make you feel better, yeah?”

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daenerys made sure you were sound asleep in her bed before making a move. “they don’t deserve a sweet soul like yours, only i do. she knew she had to get revenge on those lords who touched her little sister, her little baby.

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“i want you all to beg for your life, none of you deserve it.” daenerys spoke whilst drogon was towering over her, the lords begged, the lords compromised with her, they did everything they could. but none of them knew what was coming to them. “dracarys.”