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greenglowinspooks · 1 year ago

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To be honest. DCxDP where the reason Danny meets the bats is Ace the Bat-hound

Like, just think about it for a second. Danny is in Gotham for college, or maybe he just moved out to find a city where having mad scientist parents isn’t actually that unusual.

He can see ghosts.

The ghosts know this.

Now he’s getting harassed left and right by spirits trying to get closure. Fine, whatever, most of them are a one-and-done type deal, and the amount of ghosts trying to get his help steadily decreases.

Except for this one very stubborn dog.

It just keeps showing up and leading him to crime scenes! He doesn’t know how many “anonymous tips” he can call in to the cops before they trace his phone! And this dog, this incredibly good boy, will not stop trying to help the city. He’s never met anyone with such a strong sense of justice, let alone a dog. Can dogs even have a moral compass?

And so Danny just accepts the fact that Ace isn’t going anywhere and becomes his reluctant sidekick/dedicated medium. He leans into the whole thing, dressing up in a mix of traditional magic-user attire and accessories that pay homage to the ghost dog.

He becomes somewhat well known. The psychopomp detective following around the shadowy figure of a German Shepard? That’s unusual! That’s weird! I mean, it’s not the weirdest thing in Gotham, sure, but he’s a new vigilante and he’s got a ghost dog that people can only see when it’s around him. Someone’s gonna notice.

Damian, as Robin, is the first to reach out to him.

Ace doesn’t know Damian but he does know a Robin, and while this isn’t his Robin, he’s still friendlier than usual. Danny’s panicking because oh god the bats are here and also is this kid gonna steal my ghost dog, Damian is absolutely delighted by Ace, and Ace is just happy to see a Robin again.

Damian decides that the psychopomp isn’t a danger to anyone, and there’s no reason to put this encounter into his reports, really, and perhaps Danny can help with some of his cases in the future.

Danny is sweating bullets because Damian basically tells him that he’ll keep him secret as long as he gets to play with Ace. Ace is happy that he’s finally getting some bat affiliated crime-fighting assistance.

And so, Danny is now both Ace AND Damian’s reluctant assistant. At least whenever he’s in trouble, he can always call a middle schooler to help him.

(Is Robin even in school? He’s out patrolling damn near every night, and he stays out late as hell. Does he have a bedtime? He should.)

Eventually it gets to the point where Damian is going over to Danny’s house. When he first sees it, he has a damn bitch you live like this moment, to which Danny responds that not everyone has the money to afford a nice place. Damian counters that he could at least take the time to clean up, and Danny replies that he’s working, going to school, and being a vigilante assistant to a ghost dog, something’s got to give.

Danny nearly has a heart attack when he checks his bank account the next day and sees that someone transferred him 10,000 dollars.

And so they get into a routine. Danny and Damian fight crime with Ace at night, and occasionally Damian stops by during the day to play with Ace and have Danny help with his homework.

(Damian is smart enough to do it on his own, but some of the instructions are written incredibly confusingly, and he would never admit to needing help to his family. Danny is just glad that the kid is in school and cares about his education, blissfully unaware that he’s basically emotionally adopted him.)

Damian is used to being in Danny’s company.

Eventually, when going over a case with the family, Damian absentmindedly remarks that he’ll have to ask Danny about some of the clues that they might be missing. Nightwing asks who he means and Damian makes a face like he just swallowed a lemon.

Cue shitstorm.

Who is “Danny?” Why is Damian willing to ask for help from anyone, much less someone outside of the family? Does he know who Damian is? Has Damian been compromised? What the hell is going on?

Damian now has to explain that Danny is the psychopomp with the ghost dog who he might have met hunted down while on patrol and conveniently not mentioned, but he’s not a bad person, really, and he lets him play with Ace, and he’s been quite helpful on certain cases due to his ability to talk to ghosts.

Bruce insists that the family meet Danny. Damian, hoping that he won’t just skip town the second he hears the news, relents.

Danny is surprisingly eager to meet the bats, considering his earlier fears.

Damian, blissfully unaware of what’s coming, sets a time and place to meet.

Once everyone is there, he gives Bruce the earful of a lifetime.

Robin is in middle school! Danny knows that there’s no way to stop the boy from going on patrol, but you could at least shift his schedule so he gets enough sleep on school nights! Does the Bat even know where he is half the time?! (No) And why isn’t he comfortable asking his family for help with both cases and homework? Did they ever even notice how much time he was spending at Danny’s house? If Danny was a bad person, he could have seriously hurt the poor boy! Shame on you!

Nightwing is mortified that Damian didn’t trust him enough to tell him about any of this. Red Hood is laughing his ass off, because yeah Danny is making good points but he’s also chewing out the literal Batman. Tim is recording the whole thing. Steph is delighted by the absolute gall of this Danger Twink™️, and already planning to add him to several groupchats. Damian is more embarrassed than he’s ever been in his entire life.

You, he points to Nightwing, did your academic life feel supported when you were a Robin? Nightwing is too stunned to speak. Red Hood, eternal shit-stirrer, says that oh, we all prioritized patrol over our education, that’s just how it is. Red Robin actually dropped out of high school to avoid distractions, did you know that?

Danny honest-to-god shrieks at this.

He finishes his angry rant and leaves, everyone too stunned to stop him.

And as it turns out, Tim wasn’t the only person recording the whole thing.

The entire internet is blowing up with Psychopomp The Danger Twink™️’s rant. People are taking sides. Things are getting messy. Red Hood literally admitting on-camera to previously being a Robin is somehow not the main focus here.

Eventually someone connects some dots from the video, as well as stories circling the internet about the psychopomp. A ghost dog named Ace, who is the literal only reason that the psychopomp is fighting crime at all, which seems incredibly fond of Nightwing and Robin.

A crime-fighting dog who wants constant attention from both the current and original Robin.

Oh my god, Ace the Bat-hound died and became a crime-fighting ghost.

And, somehow, that’s still not the strangest thing going on in Gotham.

#dcxdp #dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp prompt #literally Ace is too good a boy to pass on #this veered wildly into ‘Danny emotionally adopts Damian’ but really it’s what he deserves #sometimes family is an ex child assassin an undead college student and a ghost dog #also Danny gives literally no shits during investigations because he Cannot Die #he will just casually take 40 bullets to the chest like it’s nothing #if he encounters a rogue he will beat the everloving hell out of them and then give them Jazz’s card #(she’s doing confidential therapy for vigilantes and rogues)#except for the ones who are too far gone. like the joker #he’s a bitch and Danny hates him #if given the opportunity Danny would gladly kill him but Clockwork says he’s not allowed to do that #so he settles with beating the hell out of him and then covering all his stuff in glue #and of course alerting the authorities

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muntitled · 1 year ago

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𝘽𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙣 & 𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩

: ̗̀➛ Mattheo Riddle x Fem!reader | Brief!Harry Potter x fem!reader

: ̗̀➛ Summary: Jealousy makes the heart grow fonder.

: ̗̀➛ Warnings: Alcoholism, Dark!fic, Ravenclaw!reader, Bullying, Unrequited Love, Shy!reader, Toxic Relationship, Jealousy, Narcissism, Weaponizing!Harry (sorry boo), Fluff, A bit of Angst, Smut +18 (Minors DNI), DubCon, Semi Public sex, Unprotected Sex, Oral Sex, Masturbation, Dom/Sub, CNC, humping, Spitting, Degradation, Dacryphillia, Choking, Gagging, Subspace, Slapping, Sadism, Breeding Kink

5k words

A/N: Hell truly is empty. I apologise in advance.

You have made peace with the incomparable fact, long ago, that if the muggle God existed - if he is known to shepard Muggles and Wizards alike, then he was far too busy to attend to you. There is just too much going on all at once. The wizarding world is caught in its archaic intolerance of Half-Bloods. On the mortal side, you were informed from your private tutoring with Professor McGonagall that their smartphones are threatening devolution.

“It’s the closest thing they’ve got to a wand, Lovie, so we can’t really fault them on that, can we?” 6 years into your schooling at Hogwarts and you would continue to shadow Professor McGonagall, hoping you might one day soar to her heights of academic prestige in the wizarding world. You needed to be a Professor as much as a mortal needs to breathe….

You cannot let him, of all people, ruin things. Your reputation is a fragile, flammable thing - and he is freaking Kerosene.

It's difficult to pinpoint when it started or how your sensibilities rushed away from you so swiftly. One moment you’re planting your textbook on the face of a wooden desk - the sound reaching the rafters in the highest peak of the deserted classroom…

“A Guide To Advanced Transfiguration.” Mattheo read the title aloud with a tedious uninterested drawl. “Seems a bit presumptuous to shove this down my throat so early on. Shouldn't we be starting from the beginning?"

You ignored him promptly, using the silence to arrange your colour coordinated stationery on your desk beside Riddle's,

“I had no idea," You began, brushing off your blue lined robes and flattening the invisible creases on your skirt, "-That the person residing under my tutelage would be a first year."

Riddle stabbed the inside of his mouth with his tongue, while his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Your face remained passive as you continued, "You are a sixth year, correct?” You asked with a snide tilt of the head before planting yourself on the desk beside him.

“You are a big boy capable of understanding big boy books,” Unbeknownst to you, your words managed to stir something foreign within Mattheo but he conceals it with his usual veneer of arrogance as he swings his head lazily in your direction.

"May we begin?" You asked, with your back straightened - inches away from his hand now hanging on your chair.

"In a bit…" he says, "Just..." his voice trails off as his eyes scan over your visage, likely assessing it like an unseen tapestry. The truth is, Riddle did not know you prior to being forced under your tutelage. His droopy brown eyes appeared even more so as he broke the distance between you two and studied you closer. A tense silence grew pregnant in the ancient classroom, and your resolve was beginning to slip. Only one thought inflated a puddle of anxiety in your stomach:

Could this be your first kiss? Is this what first kisses looked like? Could this be your very first brush of intimacy overall?

Your brain failed to rationalise and compartmentalise his attraction, but your heart pushed your head closer.

"Call me a big boy again..." He had whispered… which evidently led you here.

Your lesson had ended with your hand covered in his release and a breathless smirk painted across his face. "This goes without saying," he breathed out with a satisfied smirk, "But tell anyone about this, and you're dead."

Ever since that day, your tutoring has been but a veneer of something much more sinister. When you were thrusted into the light of day, Mattheo overlooked you as did lots of his Slytherin friends. Besides the occasional threat and vague insult, you mean nothing to him.

When you two are alone, however, as you are right now, he would enchant you into servitude, lightly pushing your head down while he kissed you silly until your knees were planted on the hardwood floor.

Mattheo briefly opens his eyes to peer down at you. It is then when you notice the fresh bruise dotting the side of his face, and his pillowy lips split by a small incursion. He had very clearly gotten into another fight..

“Your mouth feels so fucking good when you're not using it to be a smart ass,” His words illicit a bubble of heat inside you.

Despite all this, you are clearly aware of the fact that you should not be enjoying this at all. Not one bit. For starters, you can feel the old wooden floors digging into the meat of your knees and the crisp winter chill is unkind to your scantily dressed state. Your shirt is unbuttoned because Mattheo was like a moth to a fucking flame when it came to your ample breasts and his hand is buried tightly in your kinky curls, forcing his cock even further down your throat. The very bones of Hogwarts seem to be in vehement protest of your blatant whorishness.

3 silver chains hang from his neck as he plants his other hand against the wall behind you, blocking your kneeling frame between both him and cold, hard stone. You crane your neck back, keeping a half lidded gaze on the jewelry that drives you feral with lust. You are content imagining that perhaps, when he is getting ready in the slytherin common rooms, he wears the silver for you. A fanciful thought but one that consistently has your intestines weaving themselves into knots.

That, paired with his striking, jet black blazer, which is discarded somewhere in the abandoned classroom, has you keening and fighting to take even more of him into your mouth. Perhaps you were peacocking a little - flatting your tongue so his cock slid seamlessly to the back of your throat while you fought to ignore the pain blossoming on your scalp. He had turned you from an inexperienced nun to something you're not quite ready to examine yet.

"You're finally putting this head of yours to good use…" Despite his feigned arrogance you're utterly delighted knowing that only you can bring Mattheo to such an utterly restless state. He does not really know what to do with himself.

Not when you took so much of him, so well.

You clench your toes.

Feeling himself get too close, Mattheo eases his cock fully out of your mouth, languidly stroking himself but still assuming a firm grip on your scalp. He is operating on that very specific plain of narcissism that was special to Mattheo. He is aware of your presence, physically, but his words are spoken into the open air, like you are an inanimate object. A glorified toy.

"Are all Ravenclaws as compliant as you are?”

You bring a crisp white sleeve up to your lips, wiping away the excess drool as you remain kneeled in front of him, knowing he has yet to finish.

"If you ever think of finding out," your voice is hoarse, "this will be the last time I offer you any free study sessions."

"Is money all you seek?" He attempts to feign composure, continuing to languidly stroke his cock. "How utterly greedy. I thought- fuck… - I thought you were far more philosophical than that"

You watch hungrily as Mattheo bites on his pillowy bottom lip. He is prolonging the release, taking his time as he usually did... "If you plan on edging yourself in my mouth instead of actually finishing the job, I do have other commitments to attend to-"

He ignores you... his brows furrowing and smoothening at odd intervals as he continues to touch himself while studying you.

"We may not be studying… but I still intend to pass Transfiguration, hope you're aware." He punctuates his sentence with an breathless laugh- it blossoms across his usually stoic visage, raising his buttercup cheekbones towards his smiling eyes.

As he talks, you examine his scars and feel the slow essence of admiration seep into the pit of your stomach. An arguably pathetic feat, given that your feelings will not ever be reciprocated.

Brewing inside you is the need to take care of him. You knew the rest of the student body viewed Mattheo as a glorified parasite. Something that is only capable of thinking within the capacity of its own means. Something that takes, and takes, and occasionally jokes around, and takes. But how could he know anything different? You suspected that his home life was built on the foundation of survival, on needing to be the loudest, and proudest, and worst of them all.

"What the fuck are you doing?" The sharpness of his words slice through your thoughts, bringing you back to yourself. Mattheo's gaze is placed firmly on something down below. Throughout his mindless tirade, your hand had taken to rubbing soft, comforting circles against the leg of his pants, quite literally on its own accord. Mattheo is bent over, head tilted as he watches you questioningly. Seconds stretch to a minute, and your stomach sinks as time passes.

Eventually, he dismisses you. He shakes his head. "Whatever," He says, tilting your head back and lining your mouth with the head of his cock once more. His visage darkens into a cruel sadistic grin. "Tell me you want me to come in your mouth."

Almost instinctively, you do as he orders and like clockwork, you swallow his cum, wondering if he knew how deeply and truly your words actually were. There was a moment, perhaps imagined, in which his fingers gripping your hair, melted to the side of your soft, supple cheek. It stays there for longer than necessary, leaving bits and pieces of your composure scattered in its wake.

Mattheo soon straightens his posture, stuffing his flaccid cock back into his pants before making himself as presentable to the student body as they know him to be (which admittedly is not a lot) And before he turns to walk away, he leaves you stranded on a glacier with his ice cold words cutting deep into your beating heart.

"Tell anyone about this-"

"And I'm dead," You interject, "I know."

And with that, you pull your ruffled collar over your lint-free school jersey and check your reflection to assess the damage Mattheo and his iron grip might have left. You needn't wait for an extension on the conversation because your job here was done, (pun so malevolently intended).

As far as Mattheo is concerned, you are an easy conduit to release his frustrations through because your unpopularity makes you so incredibly inconspicuous. You blend into any given crowd at any given moment, your name seldom reaching the heights of ridicule among his group because you are so unforgettable… There had been no reason to point out your flaws, not because you did not have any, but because you were simply invisible.

It is particularly strange to have any social interaction beyond the bounds of group projects and class discussions… so Harry Potter gifting you even a sliver of attention had been violently unorthodox. So unorthodox, in fact, you failed to look up from the weathered pages of your novel when his gentle voice wafted in your direction during a rare free period in Study of Ancient Runes. Your professor has been summoned quite promptly by the headmaster and has yet to return. The class has been in a state of havoc ever since.

"I don't know if you're aware of this but…" A deep shadow over the pages alerted you to his presence, "They both die at the end."

It was incredibly rare that Potter, who sat at the desk directly in front of you, ever felt the need to strike up conversation that was not purely academic. Gryffindors made use of Ravenclaws as often as Slytherins.

So naturally, you peer curiously up at him…

"Sorry?"

"Y-Your book. It's a muggle book, isn't it? I haven't seen anything with a cover like that around here. It's refreshing. Everything in the wizarding world is ancient and leatherbound." He mumbles as his index finger slides into the collar of his red quidditch jersey. He finds himself suddenly overcome by a wave of embarrassment even though there was nothing at all to be embarrassed about… he turns his chair slightly in your direction, his eyes darting to the door and the empty teacher's seat before meeting yours once more.

"'They Both Die At The End." He says, pointing towards the title.

"Oh…" You affirm, rocking your head back and forth, "You were making a joke?"

"No," Harry snickers before waving a large hand in dismissal, "Evidently, the only thing I 'made' was a complete and utter fool of myself."

You're not sure when it happens but you feel the lower half of your face melting into what you suspect is a smile. You can feel your shoulders relaxing and your novel lowering imperceptibly.

"Work on your delivery next time and maybe we'll be getting somewhere."

"Is that how it is!?" Harry asked, pleasantly surprised by your banter, "- I could've sworn I had a shred of dignity before the start of this conversation. Now I'm not quite sure where that went."

Mattheo's feet pass over the threshold as soon as the sound of your laughter rushes past him. It is almost charming in its familiarity but incredibly curious in its rarity. He can't recall ever seeing you with your head thrown back while the instinctive sound of amusement races through your throat. He does not know he's staring until Draco shoves past him, to get to their own seats in the front of the class.

His eyes remain on you as he makes his way to his desk, hoping, perhaps, that you would turn your head infinitesimally, in acknowledgment of his presence.

You do nothing of the sort, and it not only fills him with a weird sort of dissatisfaction but it bubbles into full blown vexation when he realises who is capturing your attention so viscerally.

Mattheo has never prided himself on his patience or tolerance.

Overthinking is something he consistently lives without.

Most of his actions were spurred from things he felt in the now, and he was really fucking uncomfortable with what was happening now.

His glances at the front of the class before finding you once more in the very back corner of the class. He notices that Harry is stationed in front of you but the seat beside you is completely deserted.

Did you not have friends?

And more importantly; how did he never notice until now?

What if…

Perhaps if he…

"You didn't let me know we were having a picnic," The sound of a chair scraping against the tiles had both you and Harry rallying into silence. Mattheo appears at your side, pushing the chair against yours so he, too, sits facing Potter - who suddenly appears incredibly uneasy. Gone is the comfortable atmosphere cooked by easy and amicable conversation. Mattheo injecting himself into your little bubble created a suddenly charged and suffocating atmosphere. You cannot keep your wide eyes off Mattheo as he lowers himself to his chair beside you with his legs spread as he slouches down, like he always does.

"Don't stop on my accord," He exclaims, completely oblivious to the fact that your professor might walk in at any minute. "What were we talking about?" Your heart wrestles in your chest as you see him turn to address you. His slouching puts him a level lower than you, but it does nothing to lessen his intimidation.

"Maybe I should ask, Potter?" Mattheo turns his attention to the front, "What were you lot talking about?" There is not a trace of friendliness present in Riddle's tone. In fact, it's the very opposite. Your nerves, swelling with anxiety, only escalate into full-on panic when you feel him place a large hand on your skirt under the table.

Harry's voice is low and his eyes are trained on the floor, "Books-"

"Books!" Mattheo cuts him off with sarcastic fervour, "How utterly fascinating!" The hyperbolic wonder in his tone is utterly rude and unbecoming, but you look down at your desk in blatant anger. Refusing to be a part of whatever this is.

"And tell me, Potter, how many books have you read so far?"

It is then that Riddle's once stationary hand begins the faintest trace of movement. He begins slow and tame, his callouses barely registering on the soft fabric until his fingers prod the lining of your skirt…

Your breath hitches in your throat.

Never had Mattheo ever displayed a desire to touch you. Not in the way he made you touch him. It was made explicitly clear that only he would benefit from your secret rendezvous' and so you were left to deal with your aching cunt alone, with the image of the face he made when he came, still burned into your mind. It had never been about you.

"A couple,'' says Harry, fighting to show this bully that he was unaffected by his intimidation. If only he knew that with every advance Mattheo's palm made, you were slipping farther and farther away.

"A couple books?" Asks Riddle for clarity. He remains lax and languid on the inside, but the nature of his wandering hand underneath the desk tells a new story.

He finally slips under your skirt.

His palm connects with the softness of your thighs and he seems utterly pleased by it. His hand is immediately restless to explore how far you would let him go. Which isn't very far.

Not at all.

If he thought he could suddenly touch you after myriad occasions of using you like a discarded toy… he had another thing coming.

The tips of Mattheo's fingers make gradually increasing strokes along your thigh until his fingers prod the stretch marks on your inner thigh. It is there when you stop him, clenching your legs together, blocking his hand from any further movement.

Mattheo's voice is strained as he says, "And you like reading, Potter?"

Sensing something brewing between the two of you - your withdrawn, hazy gaze, staring directly through the desk and Mattheo's overabundance in questions, has Harry reeling backwards.

"I asked you a question, Harry."

"I like reading."

"Good! That's really good!" Quite suddenly, Riddle tilts the ends of his half-moon nails into your thigh. His nails bite into your skin, forcing them to weaken and unclamp. Before you're even able to think, his palm is cupping your cunt through your panties- forcing an indecent yelp from your throat which you quickly (and very badly) disguise as a cough.

Mattheo is utterly pleased while he continues mindlessly stroking your cunt. Not for the purpose of any glorious stimulation. His hand is just there to show you (and perhaps maybe himself) that he has access to the most private part of you.

That thought alone has an unforeseen and sudden wave of lust coursing through his veins and surging straight to his hardened cock. He thinks of all the things he could have done to you but failed to do. He thinks about how, up until this point, he had ever been satisfied with using your mouth alone, not when he was denying himself the softness of your pussy all along.

He felt angry with himself, for being so fucking stupid, he is angry at Potter for seeing whatever it is he saw in you, way before he did and, possibly most harrowing of all is the fact that he is angry with you. And he can't help but be angry at you. How easily you whore yourself out to any and every man. If this thing with Potter had gone far enough, would you replace him? Had you even fucked Potter before?

You bite down on your lower lip as your head bows even further into your book. The words blend into one another, and all you can feel is a rise in temperature and Mattheo's suddenly restless fingers, pressing rudely against your clit - for the sole purpose of ripping an orgasm out of you right then and there, at the very back of an unsupervised classroom, with Harry Potter still very much a part of the conversation.

"You've got so many books to read in your lifetime," Says Mattheo. He sits up slowly, likely spurred on by the dampness seeping through your panties. "Don't cut your long life short by trying to entertain other people's girlfriends, yeah?" Gone are any traces of feigned friendliness. "Fucking Mudblood,"

Your skin feels like you are bathing in magma and you hope Potter could not see the slight tremor in your hand as you gripped the sides of your book with more force than necessary.

Mattheo's words… they have you shifting forward and widening your legs minutely. You crave for nothing more than to roll your hips in tandem with the circles he's pressing against your clit.

"Understood?"

Your orgasm is dangerously close, with the promise of sheer, disgusting shame and embarrassment if he continues. You feel Harry give you one final curious look, perhaps pleading for an interjection of denial at some point but you've taken to bouncing your knee under the table, hoping the vibrations might create enough friction to aid Mattheo's hands. He is keeping you trapped in a space of wanting. So much so, that this almost feels like a punishment.

Once Harry is turned back around and facing the front of the class, Mattheo lowers his lips to your ears. The damp smell of firewhiskey floods your nostril and you realise that he is completely drunk. In the second lesson of the day.

However, you're so completely stimulated, even the warmth of his breath as you fight the urge to hump into his hand like a lost little puppy until you make a mess all over his hand.

"You're such a fucking slut, you know that?" Your book drops to your desk - muffled by the sounds of the classroom cacophony. "You like being humiliated like this?" He asks, almost in complete awe. It takes everything in you not to moan outright.

"Fuck," You whisper to yourself, blinking your eyes shut, warding off the need but to no avail. His fingers are long and limber, and they have you nearly cumming right there, in front of your entire fucking class. Had it not been for your Professor's haphazard arrival into the class, and the swift removal of Mattheo's fingers from between your legs… you might truly have become the slut he labelled you as.

Instead of moving to his designated seat, Riddle raises his hand for the professor… the very same hand that has previously been in between your legs.

"Yes, Mr Riddle?" Asks the Professor, his voice as lacklustre as his appearance.

"May we be excused? We were excused by Professor Slughorn to assist him in-"

"Fine, fine," Says the professor with a wave of dismissal before turning his attention to the rest of the class. "The rest of you, open your textbooks to page 56."

Riddle's hand is clamped around your forearm, already leading you swiftly out the door in a long and wide stride. Had it been any other teacher at all, they might have recognized this for what it so clearly was.

"Here," you have barely made it fully into the boy's bathroom before Mattheo is stuffing his fingers down your throat, making you gag and yelp at the sudden intrusion. "Tell me how good you taste." He doesn't even bother to make sure you're truly left alone in the bathroom before pushing your front against the bathroom sink.

"Is that good?" His voice is as sweet as honey as he forces his fingers deeper down your throat, causing you to cough and gag around them.

Mattheo has half his sense to pull his wand from his back pocket, and without turning around, whispers "Colloportus," and the heavy doors snap shut.

You're supposed to be afraid because you've never seen him like this. Mattheo is always a ball of sarcastic energy between trysts, but it's usually an energy he can somewhat contain.

You don't know what to do with him, not when he's watching you choke on his fingers through the mirror, while his other hand fondles at your breasts and rips your bra down until your nipples are poking through your school shirt.

The figure in the mirror distorts as your eyes begin to water. Thick beads of tears grow pregnant at the ends of your eyes before rolling down the side of your face.

"My girl," Mattheo presses his face into your hair, breathing you in, pressing his body into your side. His hard cock in unmistakable through his school pants, "My messy little girl,"

You finally moan candidly while your fingers grip the countertops and your hips buck into nothingness. Your eyes plead with him in the mirror, hoping they relay how utterly useless with lust you have become. It would not take hard work to make you cum, you're sure one more flick against your material-clad nipples might send you over the edge.

"Fuck, why didn't I think of this sooner,"

This is all new, even for the two of you.

"Spread your legs." He commands, even though his feet are already kicking them apart.

"Come here," you break eye contact in the mirror to face the boy behind you. Mattheo removes his fingers sitting in your mouth, leaving a trail of sticky saliva in its wake before replacing it with a long and messy kiss- one that has his tongue forcing itself inside.

Mattheo weaponizes your distraction to reach around and slide your panties to the side with one hand while he rubs your soft nub with his other, spit-coated hand.

You break away from the kiss, neck craning back and mouth hanging open while your eyebrows dissolve into crescents. You cannot look away from him, as you hump his hand.

"You wanna cum?" You nod enthusiastically. "And what if I told you, you can't cum until I've fucked that little pussy of yours? Hm? What then?" His words have you mewling from the sheer pleasure they bring and your orgasm threatens to snap once more.

"Fuck," He hisses, feeling unable to remove his hand from your wet cunt but needing to, in order to undo his belt and pull his aching cock out. "Don't you dare fucking touch yourself," He says in a deadly quiet voice before bringing his hand up to your mouth. "Spit." You don't ever think of disobeying him, not when you're swimming so deeply in your subspace, not when he's the one to bring you here.

Mattheo collects every bit of saliva you offer him before coating his cock in the stuff.

Deciding not to waste anymore time, he does what his body is screaming for him to do: he bends you over the bathroom sink and pushes cock right through your slippery folds. It's tense and painful and your voice is hoarse from doing all that screaming but the sudden contact strokes a deeply sated part inside yourself. His curved and pretty cock rams your insides with reckless abandon, all while he delivers small slaps against your cheek. Riddle keeps a firm grip on your throat. His mouth is inches away from you while his hips rut into yours. His words are being delivered through clenched teeth.

"You think you're so fucking smart but you're just my little whore, arent you? A little whore thst fucks anything that gives her the slightest bit of attention?" It doesn't even register that Mattheo wrongfully suspects that there had been something between you and Harry but you keep your mouth shut. For all his indifference in the past, this is how you would make him pay.

"Oh~ fuck." His cock bruises your cervix, leaving him balls deep and feral inside you. "Fucking Potter?! You wanna give what's mine, to fucking Potter?!" His voice is utterly depraved and animalistic and it has your orgasm cresting.

He is panting, while he mumbles into your ear.

"What would Potter think? If he saw you like this? What would he think? Would he still want your slutty pussy knowing I've been inside it? Knowing that I've cum so deep inside you? Completely ruining you for anyone else, huh?"

"You…" The tears threaten to spill, "It's only ever been you, Mattheo -oh my god! I'm so fucking close!" You fight down tears as the lava begins to bubble at the pit of your stomach.

"S-Say it again. Tell me you want me!" He exclaims, "Tell me you fucking need me."

"Oh my God, Mattheo, I fucking need you." You push your hips back to meet his thrusts.

His voice wavers after your confession. His strokes became sloppy. His mind is flooded with the tightest of your cunt around his cock- how someone so smart could possibly ever say they need him. It has a flood of heat pooling at the base of his cock. "You're so fucking pretty… my pretty girl - my pretty whore," He nods to himself while his heavy cock finds purchase in a specific clump of sensitive tissue inside your cunt. It has you clamping your own mouth shut, your arms wavering while your back arches towards him, only allowing him better excess.

"I need you," You say once more, swallowing a ball of saliva as you nod towards him through the mirror, "I need you to cum inside me."

"Oh my fucking god," Mattheo's eyes soften in their desperstion, "M'gonna fucking breed pussy right here- fuck!" His grip on your throat grows tighter until you're wholeheartedly cut off from your air supply. You hump his cock until you feel it twitch inside you.

"Y-Youre making me cum, baby- fuck-" You feel his hot cum spurting inside your walls, triggering your own orgasm that has you gripping his cock like a vice.

"So… so pretty" His hips stutter against yours until you've completely drained him of his cum. A sharp tremor settles over your bones and you gasp in vague increments, waiting for the overwhelming state of euphoria to subside… but it never does.

The weight of what you had done comes crashing back down but you are unable to feel anything besides an immense wave of satisfaction at having your deepest need satiated.

"I think I nearly killed Potter today." His voice is a hoarse echo within the school bathrooms.

"There is no Harry Potter," You say, watching him through the mirror, "In my whole world, there is only ever you, Mattheo."

And a part of him believes you, but he refuses to affirm something as emotionally stifling as that. Instead, Mattheo's eyes flutter shut as his nose finds your hair once more. His cock is still buried inside you, and you hiss as he moves his hips slowly, almost insitinvely. He loves being so wholly enveloped by you. He loves feeling you everywhere.

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mrsparrasblog · 5 months ago

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I just listened to "My Tears Ricochet" and had an idea.

TW: Angst *laughs in free therapy*

So, imagine the boys need to fake their deaths. How macabre it is that they attend their own funerals, wanting to watch their loved ones. (These are standalone scenarios they don't fake their death together)

Price: You were his wife for all these years, always waiting for him to return. The funny thing was you could clearly remember the last argument before he left.

"Love, just one more tour, and I'm coming back to you. Then we can start a family and all that, but the boys need me."

"It's always the last tour with you. When is it really the last?"

"This time, I promise."

To some extent, he was right. You thought it was his last tour, but it wasn’t fair. You knew it was over when you got the call from General Shepard. Your husband was dead. You lost the love of your life, and all you got were his dog tags and a check large enough to end world hunger. You slapped your friend after she said at least you were financially secure now.

Price watched you from behind a tree. He saw how you clung to his grave, hugging it tightly and lying on it as you always used to with him. Your dress was dirty, and the tears wouldn’t come anymore.

When Laswell and Nik approached you, you screamed at them, blaming them for not protecting your husband. You trusted them, and now you couldn't bear to let anyone else near his grave. John wished he could comfort you, tell you he would come back to protect you, but he couldn’t. Instead, he sent Simon, who endured all your insults, screams, and even a punch to his crooked nose until you were ready to move on.

Kyle: You and Kyle were born on the same day, in the same room, in the same hospital. It was like a movie; he was your best friend since forever, your first everything, and you were his. It was a love like in all those movies. The only thing separating you was the military, but you stayed home waiting for him. Not even war could separate you. Last year, he brought you that ring. You remember lying in bed, cuddling him as he promised you that you were allowed to die first. He knew you wouldn’t survive his death. So he made the silly promise that you would die first. He thought it was the first promise he ever broke to you.

Kyle had to be held back when he saw you crying at his grave. “Guess I’ll find you in the next one, love. Sleep well.”

Ghost: He was never good at love, and he was sure no one would come to his funeral. No one knew "Ghost," and Simon Riley had been buried since 2009. But then he saw you, the cute medic he always tried to push away. He was afraid of hurting you or corrupting you. How could he have known that pushing you away wouldn’t stop you from loving a dead man?

All the conversations came flooding back:

"Here, Lt. I made you red velvet cookies, your favorite."

"You're going to sit down and let me fix that, idiot."

"You're beautiful, Ghost."

"You're enough."

"It's kind of silly to be in love with someone whose name you didn’t even know. I hope you find your peace, big boy." You placed lilies on his grave and left. In that moment, Simon Riley realized he was loved, and he would burn the world down to come back from the dead just to return to you.

Johnny: Contrary to popular belief among the team, Johnny wasn’t a whore. He was a loving husband and father. That was written above "Sergeant" on his grave, at least.

His funeral was crowded with people who wanted to pay their last respects. Most of them were blue-eyed MacTavishes. Then there was you, holding your three-year-old in your arms. He didn’t understand why everyone was crying or why Dad wasn’t there anymore.

Johnny watched you sit at his grave, sighing as you talked to your husband. "James doesn’t understand what’s going on, but he misses you. He wanted me to give him a mohawk. It looks ridiculous, just like you. I know you’re rocking it in heaven. Just please wait for me, okay? Don’t want you to hoe around in heaven," you chuckled, holding back the tears. "You watch us from there, right? Can’t miss the birth of your princess, can you?"

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dynamitegun · 1 month ago

Text

I have this dumb mental image of an aged Liara, now in her Matriarch stage centuries after the end of the games leading a diplomatic mission into Krogan space. Upon arrival her staff are horrified by a band of Krogan soldiers that meet them at the landing zone led by a grizzled leader. His scales marked by a hundred battles and a demeanor to match, roaring out a 'request' to speak to "the one in charge."

The mood is tense. Krogan space is civilized but along its border bands of renegades, holdouts of the old ways of war aren't uncommon. The mission has a few Asari commandos providing security but they're outnumbered two to one. Should they turn back? Stall for time and try to plan an escape?

Instead, Matriarch T'Soni holds up a hand, calming her staff and without a word, walks down the ship's ramp towards the Krogan completely unarmed, in nothing but her gown, ignoring the cries behind her begging her to come back.

She reaches the band of Krogan warriors, looks the leader up and down and places her hands on her hips.

"Is this anyway to greet your mother, Grunt"?

A tumbleweed passing makes the only sound

The Krogan grins, and scoops Liara into his arms for a hug, lifting her off her feet and spinning her 'round.

"I missed you." He says softly. She pats his shoulder as he places her down again.

"It's good to see you again too Grunt. You've got quite the command here it seems." She feels a smile on her lips as she waves her hand at the Krogan milling about, all trying their best not to stare, just as stunned as the members of the Asari mission.

"Yep. I've got my own brigade now. Aralakh Brigade. Over 2'000 strong. All under my command." His voice rings with pride. Liara nods.

"She'd be proud if she were here you know. Of what you've become Grunt. Following in her footsteps."

Grunt laughs. "She would, wouldn't she"? He doesn't wait for an answer and Liara knows he doesn't need one. They both know the answer. Shepard had taken Grunt in, seen past the tank bred warrior exterior to the boy beneath and had taken him to her side.

When Liara learned of this upon meeting Grunt for the first time on Utukku (Learning her bond mate had an adopted son that she'd never seen fit to mention) she had been surprised, but surprises were something she had grown used to with Shepard.

"Kid just needs a bit of direction Liara. Give him a chance." She could still hear Shepard's voice in her memory reassuring her.

She had been right "on the money" as she was fond of saying.

Liara ran a hand down her front, straightening the folds of her dress as she put back on her 'matriarch face'. "Well then. We have a schedule to keep. A meeting with the planetary overseer. Would you escort us"? She asked aloud.

Grunt nodded, with a slight twinge in his own voice putting on his 'Commander' voice. "I'd be honored, Matriarch T'Soni." Turning he bellowed out to his troops. "Form up!"

Liara walks back to her staff, almost all with wide eyes at what's unfolded before them. She crosses her arms. "As I recall we have a schedule to keep, do we not?" Breaking the trance they rush to their duties. She turns her back to them, hiding a small smile and watches Grunt form up his troops. The way he orders them into formation reminds her of no one but Shepard, a small piece of her still alive all these years on.

She would be proud.

...

I'm of the option that Femshep is Grunt's adoptive mom, and realized that even if she won't be around forever with Grunt, a romanced Liara certainly would be.

#mass effect #liara t'soni #grunt #fandom showerthoughts #fanfic #post me3 #Krogan #asari

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7ulpix · 3 months ago

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Simon Riley with AAF! Reader + Skincare 🫧

🫧 warning(s): girly/very feminine reader, very messy, not proofread!

paring - simon riley • reader

word count: 561

🫧 request - not one!

🫧 author's note - FIRST WRITING POST ON HERE?? HI HELLO just me rambling....british military man save me......reader is Simon's gf at the time!!!!! PLEASEPLEAS leave criticism, this is my first time writing for COD idk how to write for older guys 😞💔💔

- 🫧 -

After having a very busy day, Simon cannot wait to come home to his very bubbly girlfriend and adorable puppy, Riley. No matter how much of a bad mood he is in, the two always manage to soothe it instantly. As he opens the door he is welcomed by a very excited puppy and his girlfriend, both in the kitchen.

"What are yer' two up to?"

"Nothing much. Trying a new skincare remedy."

Simon had moved from his position by the door to leaning over your shoulder. He peeks down at the bowl you're currently stirring to see a brownish mixture of ingredients and the smell of.....coffee........

"Those my coffee beans yer' got in there, too?" (🤨)

"Needed them for the recipe to work."

"I need them in order for me to work."

You look up at him and stick your tongue out before continuing your stirring.

"It's supposed to help clear your skin and reduce redness and eyebags."

You finish stirring. Turning away to get two smaller bowls.

"Don't think Riley can eat this."

"The bowls are not for Riley silly, you're doing it too!"

"Me?"

"Yeah! We're both trying this out, pretty boy. Go get cleaned up."

Simon sighed very loudly in a sarcastic way as if he was so tired of being bossed around, walking to their shared room. After 20 minutes, Simon came out freshly clean after a shower, switched into black basketball shorts, and a black baggy shirt. His outfit was the complete opposite to his girlfriend: pink robe, pink bonnet, pink nails, black tanktop, pink minishorts, and bunny slippers. Even Riley, the scary German Shepard their neighbor downstairs hated, had a light pink collar. You had now moved into the bathroom with the two bowls, Riley sitting by the tub, most likely bored.

"Ready?"

"M' ready."

"Okay, just rub it all over your face. Avoid your mouth though, not very tasty."

"Tasted it, didn't ya?"

".......not the best, you can definitely taste the coffee beans."

You push one of the smaller bowls towards him. He grabs a bit of the mixture, slowly rubbing it on his face as much as he can. You do the same, rubbing it around your face.

"Okay, now we leave it on for about 15 minutes!!!"

"So what do we do in those 15 minutes?"

".......watch Teen Wolf?"

The next 15 minutes were spent on the couch, finishing season 1 of Teen Wolf with riley enjoying the headpats received. If Soap witnessed Ghost sitting and wztching a show like this, he would lose it. Simon never thought in his entire life, he would be sitting on his couch watching a young teens show about being turning into a hybird wolf. He also never thought he'd see Riley rolling around on the rug, while his girlfriend gives the most praise he's ever seen.

"Timers up! C'mon we gotta wash this off our face."

Simon's out of his daydreams and into the bathroom with you. You both wash your face, you even lean up to leave kisses on his chin and rubbing water onto Riley's face so he doesn't feel left out. You look back into the mirror, smiling noticing that small blemish from earlier, is gone. Simon doesn't see much change done to his face besides glowing a bit more. Kinda sad only you get to see that glowing face. <3

#cod #ghost cod #cod x reader #cod x you #cod x female reader #cod x f!reader #x female reader #x reader #fanfic writing #call of duty #call of duty x reader #x y/n #x you fluff #fluff #cod fluff #7ulpix #jellyfish cove - !#black reader

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alittlebitofloveliness · 4 months ago

Note

can you please write something angsty about dally helping out darry after discovering how stressed he is or maybe finding him crying

Hi anon! Sorry this took so long, but here it is. Gonna tag @chained-sweater and @johnnyburntcake because they both asked to be tagged when it was finished after reading my out of context snippet. As with most of my stuff this is unbetaed so sorry for any mistakes or typos

*******************

Dallas Winston needs a lot of things. His boots are held together with duct tape and about fourteen different layers of mud, his jeans are worn, torn, patched, and torn again, and his number of material possessions is probably something less than twenty- he never had much in the first place and he pawned just about everything he had when he ran from New York five years ago. But despite all the things he is lacking, all the things he’s never had and the things he could use, what he wants most right now is a fucking break.

Dammit but he didn’t think moving out to rodeo country would involve caring so much. His gang back in New York had been a proper gang- more organized and even crueler than Shepards outfit, a group of tough as nails dealers and muscle, who’d just as soon shoot a kid as they would give them a chance. Hell, he’d been scared of them back in the day, for all he’d been smarter than most of them, because that kind of casual violence only came from the joy of hurting something, not from necessity. Only an idiot wouldn’t be scared of those sorts of people. Here though, in sleepy little Tulsa Oklahoma his gang is…a drunk, a dropout, two high schoolers, one recent high school graduate, and tagalong middle school kid- and yet, Dally finds himself far more loyal and goddamn committed to the ragtag group of big hearted losers than he ever was to old Alfie and his ring of coke dealing miscreants. It’s maddening. It’s wonderful. It’s horrible. It’s tiring is what it is, and Dally needs a goddamn break. Who wouldn’t after the night he’d just had, which involved practically dragging a nearly hypothermic Johnny Cade out of the cold and trying to warm the kid up? And as if that hadn’t been bad enough, he’d then had the dubious honour of driving Ponyboy to school this morning. Something about the kid’s zombielike stare and hunched shoulders had left him thinking of how bright those eyes used to be, just three months ago, which led to him thinking of Mrs. Curtis’ stern demeanour but kind face, and it was all just too much. Dallas needs a break. He wasn’t meant for this sappy caring shit. He’s done his mourning- he doesn’t need to be knocked all off kilter because of two kids who think of themselves as gangsters but in reality are nothing more than battered kids, bruised in different ways. This is the problem, Dally has found, with gangs that are more family than function- they’re made of people instead of parts of a machine. You can’t care about someone who is replaceable- but no one in the Curtis gang is replaceable, not by a long shot. That wasn’t the case back in New York.

Whatever. He’s done thinking about this now. He’s going to go back to the Curtis house and watch shit tv and maybe steal some food if the kitchen doesn’t look too skint this week. He is not going to think about kids who aren’t his problem (and yet completely are because he’d joined this stupid excuse of a gang and made them his problem in the first place), and he is going to stop being so fucking soft. Geez. If Tim could hear his thoughts right about now he’d lose just about all his street cred.

Of course, because he’s Dallas Winston, and life has never thrown him a fucking bone in all seventeen years of his life on earth, his hopes for a peaceful afternoon are dashed the second he steps through the door.

Darrel Curtis- six foot two, two hundred pounds of pure muscle, cool headed Darrel Curtis- is parked at the worn kitchen table, head in his hands, a water bill and something Dally is reasonably sure is property tax forms sitting in front of him.

And he’s crying.

Darry Curtis doesn’t cry. In all the time Dally has known him, he’s never seen the guy so much as sniffle- not even at the funeral three months ago when Darry buried both parents in one horrible day. Soda had broken down immediately, and Pony had stared wide eyed, rivers of silent tears pouring down his cheeks- but Darry hadn’t. He’s crying now though, and not just a little bit either, huge gut wrenching sobs tearing from his mouth and shit Dallas doesn’t really know what to do. What he wants to do is pretend he never saw this, pretend it never happened and leave, let Darry have his well earned breakdown in the solitude he clearly believed he had. Of course, he would have had to have the foresight not to slam open the screen door for that to even be a possibility.

Darry jumps at the noise, shoulders squaring immediately, letting out one last sob that he could easily explain away as a gasp of surprise as he regains his barings.

“Oh,” He clears his throat, valiantly trying to pretend like his eyes are bloodshot and his stubble covered cheeks covered in tear trcks, “hey Dal. There’s sandwich stuff in the fridge if you’re hungry.”

In that second he sounds so much like his mother that it punches Dally in the chest a little bit. Something about the ocean of feelings quickly locked behind a kind word and a carefully controlled expression is so reminiscent of Mrs. Curtis that Dally almost finds himself nodding a yes and escaping into the kitchen. He can’t though, because as much as Darry acts like her, he will never be his godlike mother. Instead, he is his kind hearted self, a twenty year old with the custody of two kid brothers he couldn’t bear to be separated from, and all the pressures of adult life most people don’t even start having to worry about until they’ve had time to really live. Mrs.Curtis had taken care of all of them, even Dally when everyone else only ever looked at him as a lost cause. Darry can’t do that though, can barely look out for Soda and Pony. Anyone with eyes can see how he’s been struggling since the funeral, nevermind the way Soda’s endless energy has turned anxious and resentful, grades slipping, while Pony gets quieter and moodier, a thirteen year old ticking time bomb.

“You stay outta trouble for me Dallas,” Mrs. Curtis said to him once, “I know you ain’t a good boy but you’re a loyal one and sometimes that’s more important. So don’t go gettin’ yourself locked up for a bit, savvy? My boys need you more than they know.”

She hadn’t just been talking about Darry, Soda, and Pony. The whole gang was Mrs.Curtis’ boys and everyone knew it, but Dally had held those words close to his heart more times than he could count, a balm on his perpetually blackened soul. Mrs.Curtis had known the score, known that goodness wasn’t the same thing as love, and she’d loved him anyhow- unconditionally and more than his own sorry excuse of a mom ever had. She’d trusted him too, never babied him or tried to fix him the way every other adult was always trying to, just patched him up when he got into trouble, and scolded him for not being smarter. You wouldn’t have survived this long if you were stupid Dallas, so don’t go pullin’ a stunt like this again. C’mon and git some dinner now, there's casserole in the fridge.

It would break her heart to see Darry like this now, so small and defeated, two things her eldest son was never meant to be. But she isn’t here right now, never will be again.

But Dally is.

My boys need you more than they know.

Damn Mrs.Curtis and her all knowing ways, because she knew what she was doing when she took him in because now he’s stuck with this stupid gang in this stupid town forever because she made him love her and love them all too.

“What’s goin’ on Darry?”

“Nothing,” Darry lies, fingers twitching a bit to pull the papers closer to him.

“I ain’t Soda, you don’t gotta lie to me like that.”

Shame twists his handsome features and he looks down, fidgeting with his high school ring.

“I don’t got enough.”

“Enough what?”

“Money Dallas,” he snaps, “I don’t get my first paycheck from that new job until next week, and both these are due on Friday. I bought groceries yesterday, and paid the hydro on Monday, no matter what I’m short.”

There’s such fear in his eyes. Dally remembers what the social workers said when Darry got custody, how militant they’re going to be checking up on him. One missed bill could have Soda and Ponyboy taken away before any of them could cry ‘unfair’.

My boys need you more than they know.

Dally can’t let that happen. It would kill Darry, Soda might go full crazy and Ponyboy…the kid was already sensitive. He’d never make it in a boy’s home.

“How much?”

“What?” Darry blinks at him and Dally rolls his eyes. Darry Curtis has never been stupid, so he doesn’t know why he’s acting stupid now.

“How much money do you need?”

“Four fifty.”

Dally winced. That was more than he had on him right now, more than he could get from Two-bit and Steve if he asked on the down low. None of them ever had that kind of scratch just lying around- unless Steve’s dad had recently paid him to come back home, but the old man had booted Steve out two days ago and chucked a bottle at him yesterday when he went back to grab spare clothes so they probably weren’t back to playing happy family yet, and likely wouldn’t be for while.

Still. There’s other ways to get money.

My boys need you more than you know.

“Leave it to me.” Dally promises.

“No.” Darry shoots him down immediately, “It ain’t your responsibility Dallas-”

“It ain’t all yours either.”

“That’s exactly what it is!”

“Are we a gang or not?” Dally glares, “I know you Curtis boys are wicked at acceptin’ help but like it or not you need it right now! I ain’t watchin’ the state take Soda an’ Pony away because of your fucking pride Darry!”

Darry stares at him a moment, eyes hard before he sighs, shoulders drooping, suddenly looking the same type of bone deep exhausted that is becoming an all too familiar look on him.

“Just…don’t do anything illegal, ok? The boys can’t handle you bein’ locked up right now.”

For some reason the words sting. It’s true the gang’s all been a wreck since the Curtis parents died, but Dally is under no illusions as to his place in their ragtag little group. They survived well enough before him, and they’ve survived every time he’s been in the cooler since knowing them, and it won’t be any different if he gets locked up now.

He must have scoffed or something because Darry glares at him. “I mean it.”

Whether he’s talking about the gang needing him or about him not doing anything that could get him into trouble with the cops, Dally doesn’t stick around long enough to find out. Instead, he turns on his heel, a plan already forming in his mind.

Buck Merril is just about the most pigheaded cowboy Dally’s ever met in his life, but he’s always running about half a dozen money making scams at any point in time, and he jumps anytime Dally offers to help because he gets stuff done and keeps his trap shut good. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, working for a guy he hardly likes and doesn’t respect, but money is money and Darry needs money desperately right now so he swallows his pride and asks Buck what needs doing.

He ends up two towns over, at a rickety trailer park off the main road, two kilos of smack stashed under the seat of Buck’s car. He makes the drop, bullies the buyer who wasn’t willing to cough up Buck’s agreed upon price, and ignores the way his stomach twists at the way he just gave someone else the very thing that destroyed his sister’s life, a million years ago back in New York.

Buck claps him on the shoulder when he gets back. Dally shoves him off, takes his cut of dirty money, and leaves before he can punch someone.

Warm light spills out the window of the Curtis house when he gets there. Ponyboy is leaning against Johnny on the porch steps, smoking a cigarette and staring at the sky, Johnny murmuring something to him that the kid doesn’t seem to be really hearing. It’s frightfully domestic and frightfully sad, the bruise on Johnny’s cheekbone almost black in the dim evening light, Ponyboy looking so skinny and tired Dally has the urge to tell him to go to bed. He doesn’t of course- it’s not his place, and Pony isn’t his brother. Instead, he ruffles both kids' hair as he passes them, tells them to get inside so they’ll have enough folks for a round of poker, and goes to find Darry.

Darry’s in the kitchen, scrubbing purple mac’n’cheese off a saucepan when Dally finds him. He watches for a minute, sees the tension in Darry’s broad shoulders, the viciousness in the way he’s scrubbing the pan. Desperation, Dally knows Is all consuming, bleeding into every thought, every action, every facet of life. For all he’s a different kind of desperate, Darry Curtis is as desperate now as Dally himself is.

He spares a quick glance over his shoulder. Johnny and Pony have trooped inside, the latter robotically shuffling a deck of cards, while Soda and Johnny chat quietly. Steve is flipping through channels on the radio, and Two is nowhere to be found. None of them so much as glance at the kitchen. Good.

“Dar.”

Darry jumps, turns.

“Glory Dal, scare a man to death, why dontcha!”

He rolls his eyes. “Ain’t my fault you weren’t payin’ attention. Here.” He holds out an envelope, and Darry’s eyes light first in understanding, then in hope.

“Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t be offerin’ if I wasn’t.”

“Dal…”

“Take it,” He shakes the envelope, “before the others see.”

Hesitantly Darry reaches out, but as soon as his hands close around the paper he all but snatches it from Dally’s hand.

“Dal…I…thank you. I can’t tell you-”

“Whatever man,” Dally can feel the discomfort that comes anytime he is thanked or treated half decently raring in his chest, “I told you I’d take care of it and I meant it.”

“I’ll never be able to repay you for this.”

“It ain’t a loan, it’s just helpin’ out.”

“That’s not what I- nevermind,” Darry shakes his head, mouth twisting in a rueful half smile, “There’s dinner in the fridge, I made sure Soda saved you some.”

Dally fixes himself a plate, glaring down at pasta that was never meant to be purple, and he and Darry join everyone else in the living room. Johnny grins when he sees him, scooting closer to Ponyboy to make room on the sofa, and Steve steals the cards out of Pony’s hands to start dealing, having finally found a station playing half decent music.

Dally eats his dinner and plays poker, pretending he doesn’t care half as much as he does when he loses. He wins half of Soda’s cigarettes and quickly loses them all to Johnny, pretending the feeling in his chest isn’t softer than anything he usually lets himself feel.

These boys don’t know it but they need him more than they know, and he’ll keep them safe. For Mrs, Curtis, but for himself too.

After all, he’s always been a selfish bastard.

#the outsiders #dallas winston #johnny cade #ponyboy curtis #darry curtis #sodapop curtis #steve randle #two bit mathews #the outsiders fanfiction

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scr11bles · 2 months ago

Text

the masses wanted it and now you receive! part two to my little ghost and fucked up hybrid!reader is here!!!

here's part one!

a/n: reader is a german shepard hybrid! and will now be presented as fem! i hope thats okay!!!

cw: little bit of violence but idk if i'd even be considered that

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

"I'll take her."

Did you hear him right? You think that's what you heard the man say... How odd, he had only gotten not even a look at your battered form, not even seen how you fight, and yet he's going to take you. You slowly turn once more to peer over your shoulder at the man on the other side of the bars; Ghost- you heard the workers call him.

With narrowed eyes you know what's about to happen, it happens every time you're chosen for a job and must be transferred. Gas starts to come up from holes in your cell, making your vision grow hazy and slowly start to fall asleep.

Ghost watches from the other side of your cell, watching in discomfort as your gassed to sleep, your now lifeless body being manhandled by the workers that entered your cell the second you were down. Ghost shifts in his spot as he sees your wrists and ankles chained together in pair with a muzzle around your mouth that sits over your lower face and wraps around tightly to the back of your head.

"Is this necessary..?"

Ghost speaks up and glares at one of the workers bringing you to your feet and dragging you out the doors of the facility and towards the chopper. The worker that he got a hold of nods his head and makes a gesture for Ghost to follow him as they walk to the chopper.

"Yes sir- she's... Not always privy to being assigned to a new handler- this is just for insurance that she won't lash out."

Ghost just grunts in response, this was going to be a pain in his ass. You were going to be a pain in his ass. The Lieutenant watches as you're forcefully shoved into a cage in the back of the chopper, his dark eyes beneath his mask narrowing as you're locked in and your chains are secured to the hull of the chopper. With one last glance at the facility, Ghost climbs into the back of the chopper, choosing to take one of the seats near where you're caged.

When the chopper lifts off the tarmac, Ghost notices you flinch as you sit with your knees to your chest- the same position you were in back in your old cell. Trauma response? Maybe. Ghost thinks to himself as his eyes glaze over you, noticing every nick, bruise, and scar on your body that's obvious. After a few boring seconds of silence the Lieutenant finally speaks up, addressing you for the first time.

"My name's-"

"Simon."

Ghost all but flinches as the sound of your voice, the man steeling himself instantly. The hell did he jump for? You're just some mutt. Though, his eyes darken and narrow into sharp slits beneath his mask when he realizes you said his name; not his callsign or last name, his first name.

"Workers liked to chat about things on the down low away from us. Wrong thing to do around creatures with enhanced hearing."

To practically prove your point, one of your ears flick atop your head before flattening back down against your skull. Ghost honestly didn't know how to feel; he wanted to throttle the blabber mouths that even dared utter his name, while also basking in the sound of your voice. It was muffled from the muzzle around your mouth, but despite that Ghost notices the pitch is strained and scratchy as you speak in a quiet whisper that's barely audible above the whirring of the chopper's blades, while also holding some semblance of softness under all the grit and gore of your very being.

"Right. It should just be Ghost to you though, I don't really do familiarity."

Ghost hears your sigh and simply stares at you, giving you an expectant look conveyed through just his dark eyes. When you catch on to what he wants you give him your name, muttering it into the air quietly so that Ghost almost doesn't catch it. The Lieutenant registers your name, grumbling it out with his gravelly voice and accent before nodding stiffly and looking you up and down, staring at your tail wrapped around your thigh and ears atop your head.

"The hell are you anyways?"

The man before you questions. Probably not the best tone of voice in his approach, but Ghost didn't think you wanted to be babied, you don't look the type to him. Your eyes slowly trail up to Ghost's, simply keeping eye contact with the man before you murmur your species, German Shepard.

Ghost hums, breaking eye contact with you and looking down at his boots for a fleeting second before looking out one of the small circular windows in the chopper. Guess that was typical, it's the average breed of hybrid that enlisted into the forces.

Simon always did like German Shepards...

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

hi guys i'm alive!!! college got a little rough and i've started working out so.. my hands are full and all that. hope you guys are staying safe and i love you all :3

#fanfic #call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #cod headcanons #cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #hybrid au #simon riley x reader

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lamb-bait · 6 days ago

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good morning,

my little lambs, i hope you're doing well. it's almost nostalgic when I post here, thinking back to better times, but lingering in the past doesn't do anyone any good - right? right.

today's topic is a controversial one, 'omorashi'.

now, as we dive deeper into my depraved desires, I'm sure curiosity may be on the rise. 'what does that mean? how does it apply to me? is this something I can picture my Shepard doing to me without his actual presence?'

and it's something you can follow along to as you read this thought of mine. first things first, you have to have a need to go to the bathroom. to pee, specially. good, good. now that you're there, this is where the scenario actually starts. the act of omorashi is controlling when and where one's submissive partner (you, specifically) is allowed to utilize their bodily function.

now, how can we picture this?

simple. this is a lot more personal than you might imagine, more control than forcing my body ontop of you, more submissive than you might think you actually are. so let's put ourselves in this position, you and me, and no one else. my sweet little lamb, just like you ~ you have to go pee. it's normal, it's understandable, but your Shepard needs to give you permission to do so. so you look for me in the house, it's not normal that I don't take you out myself - conditioning you for when you normally relieve yourself. and when you find me, it's clear that I expected you to be ready to go.

of course, it's not going to be that easy. making you lay down on the bed, to spread your legs and lean back. I'd wonder how you felt, how your cunt feels when you have to go, when it'll start feeling bad. and there's the first touch, pressing my fingers against your panties, grinding my surprisingly soft touch against you. we all know you've tried it little lamb, touching yourself while you have to pee, if felt good - didn't it? we both know how disgusting you really are, digging my fingers against your panties, as if wanting to shove them in your cunt and ignoring the fabric concealing your body. using two fingers to spread your cunt open, my other arm forcing your legs to stay apart, smiling as I ask you, "you're not going to go until I let you, right little lamb?"

of course you're going to nod, you're barely able to think - focused more on holding it in than you are on the words coming out of my mouth. pulling your panties off and leaning over your cunt, opening my mouth and letting my warm breath brush over your sensitive little parts. moving down more to press my tongue against your clit, moaning against your body as I do - my fingers that were once desperately trying to push inside you, now unrestricted and rubbing against your cunt, slowly pushing in as I lap my tongue against your clit.

feeling you squirm, to let out pathetic moans and whines, a mixture of grinding your cunt against my face and wanting to pull away from the stimulation. only for me to stop abruptly and pulling fingers out from inside you, to move my head back and get up. Will you finally get to pee? of course not. you'll see me taking my boxers off, stroking my cock as I move over you, grinding the tip of it against your clit, rubbing it down to your cunt and pushing it inside you with each slow throb.

fucking you, while I look down at your face - the mixture of worry and pleasure, gasps of air you're desperately taking, my hands wrapping around your cheek as I force you to look up at me, getting close to that perfect climax, telling you that you have to do it - right as I feeling you tightening up for your own release, moving my hand down to your clit and rubbing it as I urge my cock in as deep as it'll fit in your cunt, forcing you to piss while I practice breeding you.

as you can see, it's not all sunshine and flowers. im sure my interests will start getting more, and more depraved. i haven't even talked about me pissing on/in you yet. but that's for another time, as we fall deeper into the void I call my mind.

and c~𝜗𝜚, you're not being ignored. my precious little lambs, if you have something to say message me yourself, anonymity doesn't get you my attention.

With abhorrent lust,

Your loving Shepard

#voice kink #1cky puppy #br33d1ng #cnc blackmail #cnc kidnapping #forced intox #intox #intox cnc #intox kink #rough cnc #corruption kink #1cky #1cky d@d #1cky daughter #r4p3 fantasy #r4p3 kink #omorashi #p1ss k1nk

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soapybutt17 · 7 months ago

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Labour pt.1

Summary:A mission has gone sideways, you find your husband compromised alongside Gaz and because of it you were tasked with handling most of the mess that came after. What you didn’t expect was to be chewed out and spat on by one Philip Grave. Character: John Price x F!Wife!Reader. Philipp Graves. Simon "Ghost" Riley, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish. OC Children (Joey, Katherine). Price's mother (Beatrice Price). Word Count: 2,160 Chapter Warnings: Misogynism. Sexism. Graves is being a complete peace of shit here. Angst. Reader is literally breaking down here. Only hurt no comfort until the second part. John is being a little bit of a POS here. Author's Note: Song Inspo is this

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part II

You tried you best, you truly did but it was not easy to keep a straight face as you were notified that both your husband and Gaz were compromised because of wrong intel. It was hard not to scream at Laswell because it was her intel that left your husband wounded and barely awake as the doctors were tending to his and Gaz’s wound. It was even harder to reassure both Ghost and Soap that everything would be alright even if it wouldn’t be.

“What the fuck happened?”

No, this was actually the hardest for you as you stared at the obnoxiously arrogant bastard of a man named Philip Graves. He was blaming everyone else but himself. His shadows all nodding along with his rant while you sat in the meeting room. You kept silent. You wanted to wait until he let out all of his steam before you began. But it doesn’t seem like he was stopping any time soon.

“We followed Laswell’s Intel. Someone might have caught wind of it and attacked first.” It was Ghost that decided to cut the ranting.

It’s been a long and far too tedious mission for everyone and it’s coming close to a year now since you and your husband have returned back home. Close to a year since you’ve actually seen your son and daughter and missing out on most of their milestones because of it. You were at your breaking point and men blaming you want not helping in the matter.

“Laswell’s intel was perfect it was the execution your team made that ruined the mission.”

You took a deep breath as the anger grew ten folds because of the man.

“Are you done?” You inquired knowing it was time to talk since the conversation was going nowhere.

As the man shuts up, surprised even with your calm tone even with the stress of the failed mission. You gave both Ghost and Soap a warning look. It was all they needed from you to know you could deal with this.

“The intel was perfect a day or two before we headed out for the mission. No one here would realize that their movement and plans would change.” You explained. “We will do our best to fix this.”

“I don’t fucking need you to do your best to fix this!” Graves spat slamming his hand on top of the table that separated the two of you. “I want you to fucking do your job! Or has motherhood and becoming Price’s wife turned you into an incompetent soldier?”

You blinked, genuinely taken aback by the man’s words. In the years since you and your husband had finally allowed everyone to know about your relationship and marriage, never once had anyone say something as malicious as the man did in front of you.

“I am the best soldier before I became a wife or a mother.” You spat raising from your chair to look at the man straight in his eyes. “Do not use my family for your sick plan to hurt me, Commander. You are not the one in control of this mission, you are merely a pawn that we will more than happily discard once the mission is over.”

“Then act like it.” He spat.

You cracked your neck counting to ten trying to calm the bubbling anger fighting to come out. You still had your resentment and apprehension for having Graves participate in the mission. More than just how he and Shepard has betrayed your team back in Las Almas, you never truly trusted a man that had openly admitted that a woman like you did not truly fit in the military. This moment has cemented it.

The meeting was eventually dismissed and you made a beeline towards your husband’s office—rather, your temporary office while you handle most of the paper works while he was unavailable. You had ensured that the door was locked before the first line of tears had fallen from your eyes.

It was frustrating, to have everything you had worked on since an early age and every single sacrificed you had to make for the family you had created with your husband to be wasted by such words. You were reduced to just being your husband’s wife and the mother of his children. You were not acknowledged as the Lieutenant that had spearheaded in Makarov’s capture all those years ago, not acknowledged as the best sniper in your generation, not acknowledged as the best medic of the team. You were nothing more than a woman that served her husband and children.

Your phone dinged and the sight of your mother-in-law sending you a video of your son taking his first step further broke you as you fell to your knees and wept. Everything was falling apart all at once and you didn’t know how to navigate everything on your plate without being questioned.

The moment John had opened his eyes, he was greeted by the sight of his beautiful wife sitting beside where he laid. You were buried deeply in what he assumed were the mission report.

The first thing he had noticed about you were your puffy eyes that weren’t just from the lack of sleep but for tears that he was uncertain what had caused it. Even in the pain that came from his wounded shoulder, his moved his arm gingerly and held onto your hand taking you by surprise.

“John!” You gasped placing the paper work you were signing on the opposite chair that was your impromptu table while you stayed with him. “How are you holding up?”

“Alive so that’s good news.” He tried to minimize what had happened. “How long was I out?”

“A week now.” You answered looking at the clock above the bed. “Do you want me to call the doctor?”

He shook his head, not wanting to deal with a doctor just yet. His time with his own wife was more important than having to deal with the coats.

“What happened while I was out?” He inquired knowing it was better to know what was wrong than having himself second guess and annoy you.

“Mission was completed with the few hiccups with what happened to you.” You began with a sigh. “Had to do the debriefing with Graves and Shepard while making sure to keep Soap and Ghost in a tight leash and stop them from lashing out.”

John tried to decipher the deeper meaning from your words. There was something more you weren’t telling him. It was always like this with you, you always try to minimize what hardship that rested on your shoulders even the lashing that was thrown at your direction at the expense of your own feelings.

“What happened?” He repeated hoping it was enough to have you telling him the truth.

“Nothing you needed to worry about, Captain.” You avoided but how you called him Captain when it was just the two of you.

John tried. He truly tried not to worry but even after he was discharged from the infirmary and he continued on with what you had left off from his paper works he noticed the distance that had wedged itself between the two of you.

No longer did you try to stay in his office longer than you usually did. You didn’t even try to approach him unless there was someone else present. Yes, he truly did try not to worry but it was hard when he knew something was certainly wrong.

“What happened during the debriefing?” John couldn’t help himself any longer and the first opportunity that he had caught sight of both Soap and Ghost without you present he took his chance.

He watched the shared look between the duo.

“Still hasn’t told you what happened?” Soap inquired.

“I wouldn’t ask if she had, would I?” John quipped right back.

“Just some misogynistic bullshit being spewed by Graves.” Ghost was quick to end the to and fro that was evidently happen when it comes to Soap.

“Thank you.” John nodded and a plan was already formed in his head for what needed to be done.

“My darlings.” You couldn’t help but almost be in tears at the sight of your children in the airport with your mother-in-law.

With the mission over and done with, you and your husband were finally allowed to be home for the next few months—more so with your husband still recovering from his injuries.

You had wrapped your three year old and nearly one year old into your arms peppering them with kisses as your husband greeted his mother. You took a good look at them, so pained by how grown they were in the seven months of not being able to see them.

“Mama!” Your son, Joey mumbled at you with his small hands gripping onto the collar of your shirt.

You heard your husband grunt, bemused by the fact that your son’s first word was you instead of him. Turning to your mother-in-law, Beatrice, you gave her a quick hug appreciating her help with keeping the fort up for you and your husband. You owed her a good vacation with your father-in-law.

“Hope John would be alright now that he’s back. You know how he is with injuries.”

You peered at your husband that was forced by the doctor to wear a sling for the next few weeks while his shoulder heals. You definitely know how much of a baby the man could be every single time he’s injured. He would do anything but rest and heal. You just hope your children could keep him busy for the mean time.

“I’ll deal with him, Mum.” You reassured her with a smile. “Now, what don’t we go and treat you and Dad to some boogie five star dinner like we promised?” You inquired earning a peck from your mother-in-law in the cheek.

Eventually after dinner with your family, you had drove your husband and children back to your home. John had been becoming moodier as the minute passed, with the pain finally kicking in. Now you had to deal with three children that were getting uncomfortable being confined in the care for more than an hour.

Your patience was already laying thin with your husband not helping with your children crying at the backseat. With your children both in the confinements of their car seats and not being able to move as much, they were no help to your growing fouler mood. Your husband was silent in all of this, living in his own world dealing with his own discomfort for having to deal with the bullet hole to his shoulders and his refusal to drink painkiller to deal with it.

“John, the kids. Please.” You finally spoke, hoping he could finally take the hint.

“What do you want me to do?” He snipped and your felt your blood boil and ready to snap and before you could even do, the sudden ring of his phone interrupted you.

He moved slightly from his seat beside you to pull his phone up and immediately answered a call from Laswell, disregarding your request to keep the kids quiet and talked to the woman with your children crying in the background.

Once again, you felt so alone in this situation. It felt so unfair. So fucking unfair to you having to deal with both children, hoping and praying that bribing them with ice cream or sweets would appease them both, but it only made things worse and John demanding you to shut them up was enough for you to stop the car in the middle of the road.

Without another word, you turned the car off, unbuckling your belt and leaving the car slamming the door shut finally silencing both your husband and children.

In the middle of the deserted road, with the cold breeze of the midnight skies you screamed at the top of your lungs. You punched the closes tree that you could see. Punched the fucking trunk over and over as everything you had bottled up has finally overflowed and you were genuinely worried if you were finally going through a psychotic breathe because of it.

In your screams and punch, you halted as the wetness finally fell against your cheeks. You were truly losing your sanity as you sobbed over and over again for everything you had to deal with in the base and mission. Graves’ words that were meant to belittle your incompetence as a soldier dug through your heart more than you had ever thought it would.

You were tired. Just so tired.

When you could barely feel the tears falling anymore, you let out one last pained scream before finally wiping your tears and making your way back into the car. The silence in the car was a relief as you turned the car back on and continued driving.

“Darling…”

“Don’t, John. Just fucking don’t.”

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millervrse · 3 months ago

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𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐑! BY THE COFFEE MACHINE ! javier peña x reader

summary: Javier Peña doesn’t like you. You’re too nice, too bubbly, and you get on his last nerve. He didn’t get how anybody in this line of work could be so goddamn cheery all the time. Though aside from your, in his eyes, forced and fake kindness, you had no bad features, and perhaps that, added to your beauty, is what ticked him off so much. Could he learn to like you the more time passes, or would you do this dance of hatred forever?

pairing: javier peña x afab!reader

warnings, notes: EVENTUAL 18+ smut, reader has a bit of an established backstory, a few uses of y/n but only when necessary, r! has a dog, references to narcos and thus real life people and occurrences (pablo escobar, the cartel, etc), ENEMIES TO LOVERS but it’s one sided because javier hates r!, r! has an established personality, grumpy x sunshine

word count: 500-

LYN SPEAKING! so this is an already finished piece that i wrote nearly a year ago, a word count of 20k+ to boot! holy fuck! this is a series from javier’s pov, though if people are interested, i’d like to throw in more chapters from reader’s pov using second person, especially for smut as the original piece was written as an sfw work. if people like this, i’m down to share much, much more! anyway, enjoy this little prologue. lyn out!

edit: read the next part HERE!

My name is Javier Peña, and I work as an agent for the DEA in Bogotá, Columbia.

I’ve never been a commitment kind of guy. Not unless we’re talking about work, anyways. For the longest time, the only thing I’d ever call myself loyal to was just that: Work, with a side of coffee and cigarettes.

And tracking down a Columbian drug lord, but we’ll talk about that later.

I’ve seen this job do a lot of things to people. I’ve seen it better them as a person, and I’ve seen it tear them to shreds even more. I’ve seen it end up in friendships, just as much as it ends in divorce.

And I’m no genius, but if you look at the odds, the latter happens way more often.

I never would’ve guessed that, of all the goddamn people in the DEA, I would be one of the ones to experience the phenomenon that is this job bringing people together.

If you think the odds of people in the DEA either making friendships, or divorcing, or even becoming enemies is low, the odds of them falling in love is ridiculously lower. It’s almost laughable.

And let’s just say: Javier Peña was not the kind of guy who those odds would fall upon.

A year ago today, I was bullying the woman who would soon become my girlfriend, and hopefully, one day, my wife. Now that I look back on it, it doesn’t seem palpable that it even happened at all.

That same woman is in my line of vision now, playing with her dog as they run around in front of me. She’s laughing as she throws a frisbee around, chasing the Shepard mix as it runs after it. From time to time, she’ll turn back to me, flashing that brilliant smile of hers that made me fall in love with her in the first place.

“Hey, Peña! Are you coming over here or what?” she yells at me with that witty sass that’ll always bring me to my knees.

Or, in this case, my feet.

I get up from where I lay in the sand, shaking my head at her as I approach. She looks even more gorgeous than usual as she holds her hands on her hips, hanging fire for me as the sun is setting behind her.

I don’t like getting sappy. I didn’t like getting sappy, I guess. But every love with no end, surely has a beginning.

Allow me to give you ours.

if you made it to the end of this, i really hope you liked it! please consider leaving a reblog, as they help my work immensely <3 kisses!

#javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #javier pena narcos

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bellarkeselection · 6 months ago

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Hey I was woundering if you could do a Derek shepard short were hes comeing out of Surgery. And he sees the the reader crying cuz she feels like she is loseing everyone to new jobs but he We ensures her that he will always be there and he's not leaveing

We Will Always Stick Together

I enjoyed being a resident at Seatel Grace Hospital and helping patients that came through the doors. Up until the time it rolled around for people to be getting cut because of the merger. I had seen many of my friends already get cut and were forced to go find another job at a different hospital. At the moment I was currently standing by the nurses desk trying to not start sobbing at the fact another friend named Mandy had gotten cut. “This whole merger thing is ridiculous. You are a great resident.”

“It’s okay Y/n. I’ll still keep in touch with you.” She sniffed through tears, holding my hands in hers.

I croaked through heavy tears flinging my arms around her. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

“Hey, you are going to do great even when I’m not here. You are honestly a better doctor than me.” She reassured me squeezing me tightly in a bear hug. We had instantly became close on our very first day here. She finally broke the hug holding me by my shoulders. “Now serious talk. You must keep me updated on you and McDreamu you hear me?”

I rolled my eyes wishing I didn’t agree with the Meredith and the other interns nickname for him. “Ugh! I despise that accurate nickname.”

“I’m being serious Y/n. I want to be the maid of honor at your wedding.”

I gave her one last hug hearing the doors open behind us. “I promise you. I’ll see you later Mandy.” We finally fully separated by the time I saw Derek coming out of an elevator wearing his surgery scrubs walking over to us.

Mandy waved bye needing to fill out paperwork. “Bye Y/n.”

Leaning my elbows on the countertop I sighed feeling tears welling up in my eyes watching her leave through the doors and not look back at me one last time. I knew why she wouldn’t, because it would make it more painful than it already was. But it didn’t make the fact that I wanted her to do that any less painful. “Hey Y/n, I know that you were wondering about the surgery and I’m happy to report that everything went perfectly normal.”

“Yeah…that’s uh great.” I mumbled out still watching the doors wishing this wasn’t happening today.

Derek touched my shoulder seeing that something was off with me. My hands were all clenched up and I was slightly shaking even though I was leaning most of my body against the nurse desk so I wasn’t off balance. “Hey are you feeling okay?”

“Yep I’m fine.” I quickly answered which was another telling sigh for the brain surgeon.

He takes my hand in his turning my body to face him. “Y/n, tell me what is wrong or hurts otherwise I can’t do anything to help fix it.”

“This isn’t something you can fix, Derek.” I told him knowing he wouldn’t understand the constant worry I felt over this merger. He was already a highly skilled surgeon so he had nothing to worry about when it came to this sort of thing.

He brushed some hair out of my eyes seeing some tears sliding down the sides of my face. He knew I was very good at keeping it together around patients and staff but when I was alone with him he had seen me let out all my emotions from the whole day and he course was there to comfort me when I was done. “Try me. I know how deeply you feel things and how you hold them in.”

“Can we go somewhere privately, I don’t want anyone to see me like this.” I begged him and he draped an arm over my shoulder leading me into the nearest on call room.

He let me go inside the nearest room and shut the door behind himself locking it so we weren’t disturbed. I sat down on the bed running my fingers through my hair when he sat down beside me. “Tell me what’s going on?”

“All of my friends are basically getting cut from their jobs here. I’m the only one who hasn’t- and it’s only a matter of time before it might happen to me. I - I can’t handle the thought of it. I don’t want - want to leave you.” I felt tears beginning to fall down my face and my hands clutching into fists.

Derek whispered in my ear, leaning my body towards his, wrapping his arms around me. “You’re not going to lose me. Y/n, we are always going to be there and have each other."

"You really believe that?" I sniffed into his shirt.

He nodded while I laid my head on his chest and we just stayed that way. "Yes I am. Nothing is gonna separate us." I was somewhat more hopeful that he could be telling the truth.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

#derek shepherd #derek shepherd x reader #derek shepherd imagine #greys anatomy #greys anatomy x reader #requests open #ask box is open for anything #comments really appreciated #greys anatomy imagine #greys anatomy one shot

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faggotmox · 9 months ago

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something wonderfully important has happened! my "wrestling dad" josh shepard got his book of wrestling erasure poems published & it is up for sale (either 10$ or "name a fair price"). this is incredibly important to me as im one of the first people to have gotten the privilege to read these poems as josh wrote them. josh is incredibly important to me as a friend, he is the guy who introduced me to wrestling & gave me a deep, unrestricted passion for it.

josh is so fucking talented, & creative. he is also my favorite poet, not just bc he's my friend. the book's flow is dedicated to the flow of a wrestling match, following all the hallmarks (the lock up, big heat, the comeback, ect) with the themes of his poems to create a match like narrative for the book.

there are like three specific poems in the batch that i want tattooed on me, a stone cold one, a mick foley one, & a briscoe brother's piece. the aj lee pipebomb poem moved me to actual tears, even when i read it now. the macho man poem abt being bipolar struck me so hard i rethought my own feeling on my mental health. josh pushes impressive themes of capitalism, mental health, poverty, & family theoughout many of his poems. i know ive got a few wrestling fans here, & if you're also into poetry please considered josh's work. or just if you want to support a friend of mine.

a cool way to support josh's work is by requesting it at your local library! even suggesting to bookstores that have poetry sections or interacting with the work thats already published. following/reposting josh's work for exposure also is great.

bruiser zine said this:

The second volume in the BRUISER Zines series, Cutting Promos is a collection of pro wrestling erasure poems by the Oklahoma City poet Josh Shepard. Printed and assembled in Baltimore, this limited edition zine collects 26 poems previously published in BRUISER, HAD, The Daily Drunk and many other fine publications.

After being laid off at the onset of the pandemic, Shepard found comfort and inspiration in the glow of professional wrestling and its performers—their violent struggles, fighting spirit, and electric language—and from their speeches and promos that have inspired wrestling fans across the globe he delivers Cutting Promos, a collection of erasures that echoes the personalities, pursuits and perseverance of pro wrestling’s greatest, standing as a testament to life lived during Hard Times and deliverance through them.

[ IN CASE YOU MISSED THE LINK ABOVE TO BUY JOSH'S BOOK ] [ JOSH'S TWITTER | INSTA | LINKTR.EE* ] *a lot of the links don't work bc the publications went under :( but there's still quiet a few up for free here

support my kayfabe father!!! i watched him turn his hard times into beautiful pieces. even in the beginning when he only had 3 or 4, before he even thought he could make the book i saw his passion for these pieces. i was there for every heart wrenching rejection letter & every hard earned spot. every time he was working late at the library sending me new ideas bc he couldn't watch dynamite. every single wrestling poem josh has written has now been published & that is a huge success. he puts in the work like a wrestler puts in the work in the ring. hard hitting, gritty, & beautiful.

#hope i got all the info and claims right in here lmao #ny memory aint so good #and hes been working on thus for FOUR YEARS #god im so proud of him #please please please reblog this #poetry #poems #poet #wrestling #pro wrestling #aew #wwe #poetry book #book #abt ranger #im also rb the fuxk out this #twice a day

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midnightjewel · 4 months ago

Text

Plushy Surgery

Did the puppy get to your favorite plushy when you weren’t paying attention?

A/N: this is a very real thing that just happened to me I swear I was sobbing. My Jack Russell (bless his heart) thought that my weighted pink Dino was one of his toys and now my Dino is missing a tail. So poor Strawberry Lemonade will have to be a brave boy and go into surgery. Anyway! Enough of my oversharing!

Kirishima x Fem! Reader

I can do more parts with more characters!

You and your husband had recently gotten an Australian Shepard named Riot. He was a cute puppy, don’t get me wrong! But, he was very mischievous as well.

It had been about 4 months and he was doing very well with his potty training. There was a few mishaps here and there but all it was at this point was just you and Kirishima trying to find out his schedule and what times he particularly likes to go outside.

Riot was basically you guys child. You two didn’t have kids yet so he was the perfect first step until you two decided you were ready to discuss that topic. But because Riot was the puppy son of pro hero Red Riot and his spoiled little wife, that meant Riot got spoiled rotten. Any toy, treat, or accessories you wanted him to have is what he got. He had a little basket full of bandanas to wear and he even had his own little pajamas and a shark bath towel!

But nothing could compare to the massive bucket of toys that sat in your living room. That dog was living the absolute dream, a big house with a pool and a huge backyard, all of the meat and treats he could ever want, and any dog toy he could think of was right at the tip of his paw!

Riot was so well behaved! Well… most of the time…

You we’re cooking up some chicken and rice for dinner and according to the time on your phone it was 7:30 so that meant it was 30 minutes until your husband got off of work.

You were a bit nervous about leaving Riot slightly unsupervised while you cooked but it had to get done! You turned bluey on in the living room and you thought he would stay still because he loves that show. But Riot was learning how to climb the stairs as of recently so you were keeping your ears open for that.

As you checked on the rice you heard and felt your phone buzzing on the counter next to you. As you glanced over at the screen you saw that it was your husband. Of course, you always thought the worst so you immediately picked up.

“Kiri?” You inquired as you picked up the phone fearing it was one of his sidekicks and he had gotten into an accident or something

“Hi baby!” He spoke cheerfully “I’m alright! I hear the tone of your voice” he reassures you

“Oh ok” you breathe out in relief “So what’s up?” You ask him as you keep an eye on the stovetop

“Well I ran out of body soap last night and I was going to pick some up on my lunch break but I was swamped with paperwork” he tells you “So essentially what I’m asking is do you need anything while I’m at the store?”

“Oh I could’ve picked it up for you” you tell him “But actually, I’m running low on my sugar scrub can you pick one up for me?” You ask

“Of course baby! I’ll see you soon! I love you and Riot!”

That’s when your stomach dropped. Riot…

You hadn’t heard him walking around the kitchen looking for scraps

“Okay! We love you too!” You quickly hang up the phone and call out for the puppy “Riot?!” You peer into the living room bluey was on the tv but there was no sign of Riot.

“Riot!” You called out once again and you heard his paws practically jumping down the staircase to see his mommy. “Oh there you are” you sighed in relief “Wait.. what do you have in your mouth?!” You saw a indigo fabric that looked all too familiar

You got him to give you the piece of fabric and then you dashed up the stairs only to find that you had left your bedroom door open and your beloved shark… the one Eijirou had bought for you for your first Valentine’s Day together�� it was slightly destroyed…

It was missing a fin that you were holding and it’s tail was halfway hanging off of his body. Your stomach was a pit as you picked up all of the stuffing and the pieces of small fabric off of the hardwood floor.

You brought it back downstairs and showed Riot what he had done and boy did he look guilty! As much as you hated to be stern with him, he wasn’t going to learn otherwise.

“Riot no! This is not Riot’s Toy!” You scolded him as you walked over to the toy basket “This is Riot’s toy!” You firmly state as you hand him a plush of a popsicle with a squeaker

You quickly bagged up all of the pieces to poor Mr Cuddles and continued to work on dinner. It was on low heat so luckily, nothing burned. You couldn’t help but notice how the un-involuntarily tears pricked your eyes.

Some people would say “it’s just a stuffed animal” but it wasn’t just a stuffed animal. It was an object that you cherished and loved. It had sentimental value.

As you began to plate the food and get drinks out of the fridge you heard the front door become unlocked and opened followed by Riot’s happy barking and squealing signaling that his father was home

“Hey gorgeous” he set his grocery bags down on the countertop and urgently came to kiss your lips as if he hadn’t done that just before he left for work. To be fair, it felt like an eternity being away from you.

“Hey” you tried your best to mask your sadness but of course he saw right through that. Could you blame him? You two had been together for almost 10 years now and married for 5 of them.

“What’s wrong?” He gently tilted your head to look up at him with a warm smile. “Well Riot broke Mr. Cuddles” you tell him as you point to the bag that was holding the contents of your stuffed shark

“Oh I see” he examined the broken plush “I’m sorry that happened” he pulled you into an embrace. “Tell you what, I’ll make some calls and we’ll get this fixed” he rubbed your back and you nodded in response

“Let’s eat” you smile at him “You’re probably hungry from saving the city all day” you pat his forearm as you hand him his plate to take to the dining room

Kirishima had gotten ahold of Bakugo and he was fortunately willing to fix it. Growing up with his mom as a fashion designer had its perks.

“Hey man” you hear your redhead husband talking to his best friend on the phone.

“What do you want it’s 10 o’clock!” The blonde scolded his friend

“Yeah I know it’s past your bedtime but I need a huge favor” he pleaded with Bakugo

After a deep sigh from the blonde he responded “go ahead”

“Thanks man! Can you sew good?” Kirishima inquired and the ash blonde laughed

“Can I sew? Is your hair unnatural? I’ll answer that for you! Yeah I can fucking sew and I’m pretty damn good at it!”

“Awesome! The dog got to (Name)’s plush and it desperately needs to be fixed. I’ll pay you!”

“No, shut up, there’s no need for that. Just drop it off in my office tomorrow morning and I’ll fix it on my lunch break”

———————————

After cleaning up dinner, getting showered, and ready for bed you two could finally settle down for the night. “Riot come up” Eijirou patted the bed and made kissy noises for the puppy to jump onto the king bed. After spinning in a few circles he finally settled down.

“Goodnight honey” you smile and kiss Eijirou as you turn off your bedside lamp. “Goodnight sweet girl” he smiles and turns his off as well.

As you turned over to sleep you felt Kirishima grab his phone off of his nightstand. It was a habit of his to go on his phone before bed and you didn’t mind but you knew that could never work for you. You needed to distance yourself from the phone if you wanted to get some rest.

But something just felt wrong. You weren’t holding onto your shark. To be fair, you had slept with it for almost ten years now. You tried to subtly get comfortable but you just couldn’t. You knew you couldn’t sleep with it, it was broken and you didn’t want to risk breaking it even more in your sleep.

“I can’t sleep” you sigh out into the open as you turn your head around to look at your husband who just smiles and shakes his head while grabbing the remote “come cuddle and watch some tv maybe that’ll make you sleepy” he pulls you close to him so that you’re laying your head on his chest “I’m probably not as good as Mr Cuddles but I assure you, I’m the next best thing” he rubs your back gently

“You’re the best” you smile at him as you feel yourself becoming sleepy

#anime #bnha #my hero academia #mha kirishima #mha bakugou #eijiro kirishima #kirishima x reader #domestic kirishima #pro hero #my hero academy fanfiction #kirishima fluff #kirishima x you #kirishima eijirou #bnha eijiro kirishima #bnha kirishima #kirishima x fem!reader #x reader

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sol-consort · 3 months ago

Note

Hello commander, I return with the ask for some crumbs of Thane in citadel dlc ideas/headcannons if he'd been there (he would've been perfect. Wouldn't he have just been perfect to join in the citadel dlc mission? I think he would've been perfect) Admiral anon out 🫡

Thane deserved to see that party and deserved the spotlights when it came to saving Shepard's ass. Who is better than a literal assassin to track you down from the shadows and swoop in all badass to make sure his siha is safe and sound. He would've been adorable at the casino, all shy and unsure under the spotlights. I love you Anon. I will name my firstborn after you.

[Fluff, romance, established relationships, Citidal DLC mission/party]

[Reader is Shepard, Gender neutral - NB!reader]

Citadel Wards: Ambush

"Siha, I came as soon as I could. Are you alright?"

Breaking out of his hospital stay mid checkup wasn't hard at all, especially after he caught hint of the fact you might be in danger. All alone with only a pistol against hundreds of enemies.

Thane was on a mission as he headed your way, heart racing, praying for the gods to protect you.

He knows you're more than capable, but he really wishes you didn't have to suffer through failed assassination attempts.

And a rather clumsy one at that too. Thane almost feels insulted.

But you're safe and he's not leaving your side anytime soon. He already left a message for Kolyat not to worry him while driving the shuttle he hijacked to your location.

It almost feels good to have a chance to pull all of his tricks again after such a long stay in the hospital with nothing to do.

In the scene where you meet him, his features visibly soften up when he looks at you. For a second, you could see the worry in his eyes. Contempt at his condition for not allowing him to be more of help to you.

"I've only a few loves left, and you are my last. Let me do what I can for you."

His hands lift up for a second before he reluctantly lets them down, clearly going for a hug hesitating and changing his mind.

You get a paragon interrupt to hug him, feel him melt against you. How long has it been since your last visit to him? Busy with preparing for the war and all, he was very understandable and content with the little time you offered him.

But now, oh you're finally here in his arms.

"I've missed you more, more than words could convey."

The hug is bittersweet, full of longing and untold fears.

You lost yourself in the war and the preparation for it, you almost forgot who you were fighting for in the first place.

The person who lost himself in you.

Thane always imagined his end to come first, for his story to end while your legend is still being written.

And he accepted it long ago, bitterly like any other pill he had to swallow.

It was just a fact of life.

All he could do was make sure he didn't leave any regrets behind.

But the idea of your life ending before him? Of the angel who guided him through a suicide mission and ensured everyone's survival to simply fall prey to some no-name assassins?

It filled him with burning rage for your enemies. Emotions he thought had died down since he gave up his previous job.

The same fire which consumed him back when he saw Kai Leng pointing a gun at you—overwhelmed his senses, twice as intense.

It's one thing for you to face soldiers nearly your equal on the battlefield.

It's another for some assassin to come and think they can best you while your guard is down during shore leave.

You were always fair in war. Assassins never are, he should know.

Gaining leverage no matter the cost.

Using every trick in the book to avoid a fight and get the upper hand before you realise they were there.

He memorised all the steps; a lifetime to perfect this song and dance of death.

Thane swore to himself not to let a single one of them reach you as long as he could still lift a gun.

Or simply weild a knife. Both were just as deadly in his grasp.

And now, standing with his arms wrapped around you so tightly, he almost feels ashamed for failing you. For not protecting you like you've always watched over him.

He doesn't voice those feelings; he never wants to worry you.

The mere soothing touch of your fingers against his face is enough to put all of the voices in his head to rest.

But you can see it in his sad eyes. You can sense the guilt in the desperate hold against your waist.

You get a renegade interrupt to kiss him, hush all of his worries away.

Everything else can wait. You'd damn the whole world if it meant you got to comfort your beloved just a moment more no matter what dangers lurked close by.

Ever since the time you kissed him during your initial hospital visit, you've been dying for the chance to do it again.

Eventually, it has to come to an end as Brooks voice sounds from your omni-tool, asking if you're still there. Warning you about the enemies heading your way.

Thane clears his throat with a smile curling in the corners of his lips. Apologising for getting distracted.

He follows after you as you investigate the car shop, a newfound determination to his steps. Knowing he will follow your lead to the end of the galaxy if you asked.

Reaching the closed gates, your attention turns to the closed shut office where they trigger to unlock them must be.

Telling Thane to step back, you raise your gun without hesitation as you aim the glass windows.

"Siha, there is another way."

His hand covers your own, gently coaxing you into lowering the gun.

Kneeling down to be on the same level as the volus hiding behind the desk, Thane asks them if they could open the gates.

He's patient as the shaking volus considers his request before clicking the button to lift the gates.

When you meet his eyes, he doesn't look smug at all, instead he seems very thankful to you for granting him this mercy of not carrying the guilt of endangering an innocent life.

Especially after all the time he has spent repenting for his past mistakes. All the innocents he has ever put in danger.

You realise how much the man in front of you has changed in the past months. The times he spent praying for forgiveness for each life he has taken, turning his own life around to be a good model for his son.

You can't help but voice your thoughts, not so subtly praising him for following his wishes for a stable, honest life with action.

The determination it must have taken, all the effort and hard work.

He brightens at your words.

"I even started paying taxes for my investments."

Now those words, he does look smug about.

☆

Citadel: Identity Theft I

Back at the safety of your apartment, Thane can be found next to the piano. One hand behind his back, another resting atop the piano cover.

Staring out the wall windows, the ones adjacent to the main entrance.

He's doing a breathing exercise when you approach him, slowly inhaling, then exhaling, in and out, in, out.

If you express worry, he reassures you that he's fairing well.

"It's you who just escaped danger. I should be asking you that instead."

He mentions how beautiful the view outside is, how it's nothing compared to his own apartment in the citadel that's more on the modest side.

Maybe he can take you there to show you after this is done, over a dinner? Kolyat is a surprisingly excellent cook, and sharing a meal with the two of you would make Thane very happy.

When it's time to discuss the next step with Liara and the group, Thane can't be picked for the vents' mission because it's hard to breathe in such a tight space.

You remember how the first time you met him was when he crawled down out of a vent.

The grim realisation of how much his health has deteriorated since sinks on you like cold water.

He makes a remark on how this mission almost takes him back down memory lane.

Infiltrating casinos to look for a target is his bread and butter–well the drell equivalent to that.

☆

Silver Coast Casino: Infiltration

"I never thought I'd actually get the chance to dress up and walk you down an aisle during this lifetime...it's always been a wishful fantasy. You look wonderful, siha."

He's wearing a very stylish suit, light breathable material.

It has a deep-ocean like shimmer when the light hits the black fabric just at the correct angle.

A thin shirt underneath, pearly white and unbuttoned down his chest.

He said it's necessary to compensate for the lack of cutouts in the suit so his skin may breath better.

Yet your eyes can't help but wander to his cleavage, even more noticeable now than his usual clothes ever showed.

If Thane had noticed your gaze, he never made a comment about it.

But he straightened his posture more, chin lifted a tad bit higher as he walked by your side ever soelegantly

Maybe he did reveal in your attention to his body.

His arm was around your waist, holding you protectively as he brought you closer to him.

You tired to tell him to just leave his hand in his pocket and let you "cling" onto it instead.

That's how humans usually do it to show statues, appear dominate, all the necessary facade to fit in with the usually casino crowd.

But he was greatly displeased with the idea of having you holding him without him returning the gesture.

He doesn't want to wear you like an accessory.

He never understood the human concept of playing things cool or acting hard to get.

Why deny his feelings and pretend he isn't over the moon at the idea of being with you in here? Why pretend you're not the most beautiful angel he has ever seen?

You could do anything to him on that red carpet, and he wouldn't protest nor shy away.

Lifting his chin between your fingers.

Be it cupping his cheek tenderly.

Giving him a sensual kiss.

He would've even kissed your hand if you wordlessly extended it to him.

The cheering crowd made him feel a bit uneasy, he isn't used to being in the spotlights or under so much attention.

Sure he infiltrated casinos, but by blending in with the background or disguising himself as one of the staff.

You'd be surprised by how easily drell are dismissed by the other species, assuming he must be the gaurd of some prideful hanar nearby.

Yet the way you held yourself so confidently, smiling and waving like it was your birthright to be under so many sparkling lights. It made Thane admire your strength even more.

Finally getting inside the casino, Brooks made a comment on how it's a good thing you brought Thane since drell-human couples are practically unheard of.

This means people will focus on the two of you rather than any suspicious activities on her end.

All of his uneasiness and hesitation fizzled out the second the mission began. Taking his role seriously and doing the job that must be done.

As you went around mingling with the crowd, he seamlessly blended in the shadows and background.

Always keeping an eye on you and staying within earshot. He made it look so easy how much he evaded attention and acted natural in such a new environment.

That's professional assassins for you.

It did amuse him a lot when you ordered the weeping heart cocktail from the bartender.

Whenever you needed him to distract a gaurd, he'd approach them and say one of the followings

"Excuse me, but would it be possible to find a quiet room for me to pray in?"

"I accidentally dipped my fingers in someone's drink, and now they're stripping to swim in the fountain."

"I'm here on behalf of the Hanar entertainment association, and I need to file a complaint on the lack of proper hydrating nourishments for my employers."

"Someone bumped into me and dropped this wallet. Can you help me return it to them?" *after searching for a while. "Oh, my mistake, I just remembered it's my own wallet, I must have had too much to drink"

"I hope you don't find this weird, human, but how can you possibly manage with just two eyelids? Don't your eyes get very dry?"

"Are you from earth? I've been there recently. It's a very beautiful planet, I'm very sorry about the recent news. Did you have any family on earth? I see..would you like to tell me about them?"

"Do you have any children? Ah good. I have a son but he doesn't have any significant other yet, I was wondering if you have any advice regarding this subject and how i may subtly push him towards finding someone?"

He thought about faking a coughing attack to try and distract the gaurd, but he decided against it for the low chance you might get worried or panic.

Also he had terrible luck in every machine he tried.

He'd just end up losing time after time so he decided against it not to drain your money.

Part of him died inside when you kept insisting on touching the fountain.

He just stood by and didn't have the heart to tell you what's it actually used for.

If you inquire about his past missions that took place in a casino, he tells you that he usually blended in with the servants and not the guests.

Find a secluded spot then quietly take security down one after one and ensure they get swept up in the chaos not to notice him slip by them.

Finally reach his target and go for the neck. The quicker the better. He wasn't looking for a fight or a confrontation, swifly making them meet their end was ideal.

It was contractual work, he always put his emotions aside during these times.

alongside his morals.

That's why this mission feels so...different in comparison to the past.

He is here because he wants to he here, rather than out of any obligation.

And dare he say, he is enjoying being your pretend date while playing dress up a bit too much.

Is it even pretend when the two of you are already together? You argue.

he can't deny that, but he'd rather take you to a proper date one day.

The two of you had never been on one, after all. despite everything you went through together, even risking death by each other's side.

Life happened too much, and too fast.

There simply wasn't time to catch up with Thane in a cafe.

Mundane things were akin to a luxury in your respective lives.

Thane found himself genuinely enjoying the art hanged around the place, the lights and decorations.

But his absolute favourite was the dancing.

Seeing you let loose and freely move even for a little while made him focus on the moment, on the few lighthearted memories he got to make today.

No matter how awful you were at it.

Memories he will surly treasure, replay whenever his mind got too muddy and clouded by the inevitable.

He was thankful for the gods to allow him this small extension on his life.

This small kindness of having just a little more time with you.

The opportunity to witness this, experience it by your side.

To get and walk you down the aisle while you looked the most beautiful he has ever seen you.

Even if it was just play-pretend on a mission.

...and a red carpet rather than an actual wedding chapel.

For the way he held you and felt about you couldn't be more true.

After the two of you enter the office only to find your target already dead, Thane can't help but have this gut feeling that something feels off here.

When you check the computer for whatever files the assassin must have forgotten to erease, he realises how clumsy this assassination attempt is.

An amateur work at best... too rushed.

How unusual. The office was guarded the whole time, what possibly could've made them leave in a hurry?

Thane looked around, there weren't any escape routes. No nearby vents, no possible second exists.

He almost voices his thoughts to you, but Brooks steps in first and talks about how this is a dead end.

Something about her feels familiar.

Yet even with a perfect memory, Thane is sure he never heard of this name or seen her face before.

Which just puzzles him even more.

The bullet wound in the corpse's chest is still fresh.

This wasn't the work of an experienced assassin who wanted to leave no trace behind, but the work of soldier in a hurry.

☆

Citadel: Identity Theft II

Back at your apartment, Thane can be found in the same spot.

Talking to him lets you know that he informed Kolyat not to wait for him during dinner tonight, wishing him a goodnight and reassuring him that he's managing fine.

Clear endearment in his voice at how much the relationship between him and his son developed, how it feels nice to have someone waiting for you home at the end of the day.

The information revealed by EDI only makes Thane feel more uneasy.

He keeps searching his memory for anything he might have missed, any small detail that could've slipped him by.

Your comment about bringing everyone along with you on the mission makes him smile.

Your determination never fails to impress him as equally as it amuses him.

☆

Citadel Archives: Escape

If you didn't pick him up for your team, then he ends up joining team Mako instead of Hammerhead.

Mostly to balance things since a sniper is already in the other team.

He enjoys listening to the bickering but doesn't participate much.

Until Tali brings Thane up to dig at Garrus for being the inferior sniper.

This really gets under Garrus's skin...plates?

He tries to get Thane into a sniper competition to see who takes out the most targets the quickest.

Thane, of course, politely declines and immediately conceads, handing him the win on a silver plate.

This just pisses off Garrus even more.

The turian starts talking about how assassins aren't even that cool, and Thane clearly doesn't have a cool face scar like him. Therefore, Garrus is the better sniper.

It keeps escalating with Tali adding fuel to the fire.

Eventually, Thane is pressured into accepting the sniper competition as both teams have already started betting credits on it.

You can affect the outcome if you take out the targets before the other person can get to them.

Garrus targets have a blue sniper dot show up on them while Thane's is green.

It is clearly cheating, and the losing team calls you out for helping, but you pull rank and remind them this is a mission; you're just doing your job.

You can either help Thane win, Garrus or leave them be.

If you leave them be, they end in a tie.

If you help Garrus win, Thane takes it in stride and admist he might be getting a bit rusty.

Garrus is full on boosting however.

If you help Thane win, he's actually surprised and very amused. He tries to remain polite and downplay his delight when Garrus loses.

"Thank you, Siha, for watching over me."

If you take Thane on your team, the competition only happens if you bring Tali or Javik with you who challenge Garrus on behalf of Thane.

Otherwise there is no one to pressure Thane into joining after he conceads.

If you bring Garrus and Thane with you, then Garrus is the one boosting about Thane to the other teams.

Saying how with two snipers, this team is overpowered and the other two teams have no chance.

If you use a sniper rifle, Garrus changes it to three.

His enthusiasm slowly infects Thane.

For a single mission, they suddenly lifelong bestfriends.

The two of them complimenting each other skills and equipment, Garrus impressed with Thane's zero hesitation methods and immense stealth. Precise and quick.

Thane in awe of Garrus endurance and how the sniper rifle feels like an extension of him rather than a seperate weapon.

The competition doesn't happen, or a very low stakes version of it happens where team mako and hammerhead suddenly unite for a second and Tali challenges Garrus.

Thane and Garrus easily sweep the competition, you can't lose or help the other team cheat because any kill you steal is counted towards your team.

Citadel: Party Aftermath

In the morning, as you stretch out in bed expecting to feel the body of your beloved next to you, you're greeted by the empty spot on the bed.

In fact, there is no sign of Thane around the house amidst all the scattered groups of your crew going about their mourning routine, nursing their hangovere, or a mix of both.

The front door to your apartment is ajar.

You step outside and see two figures standing at the far end of the hallway.

Thane and Kolyat staring out the hallway windows, enjoying the relative peacefulness of the early morning atmosphere.

A clear contrast to the chaotic mess of hangover and headaches inside your apartment.

Or, more precisely, it was just Thane enjoying the peacefulness while Kolyat scolded his father for leaving the hospital so suddenly and causing the asari doctor to freak out when she saw him break out of a window and land on top of a moving car.

Clear worry was barely masked underneath Kolyat's angry speech.

Maybe that's why Thane was in such a good mood, a rare smile gracing his lips as he gave his son his full attention, listening to his words and apologising for making him worry.

You're reminded of the first time you've seen Kolyat.

Of the first meeting between him and his father during your time at Cerberus.

They've really grown closer.

Somehow, they managed to overcome all the obstacles and difficult past they had.

Kolyat forgave his father, and Thane was grateful for being offered a second chance after everything he put his family through.

And yet, he risked it for you, his life.

A second time.

The life he just rebuilt, remade from the ground up.

You notice a plastic bag in Kolyat's hold, several pill sheets could be seen inside.

The open water bottle in Thane's hand.

His son must have came here first thing in the morning, just to deliver his father's medicine.

You give them their space, not wanting to interrupt Kolyat's lecture.

The last thing you see before going back inside is Thane pulling his son into a hug. Reassuring him that everything will be alright, his dad is right here.

Going to check with the rest of your crew and passing the hangover medd around. You gather them for breakfast.

Thane enters shortly after, you stand up from the table and go to meet him at the door.

Offering him to bring Kolyat inside, to join you and the rest for breakfast.

You've saved them a seat next to your own.

Much to the complaints and objections of other crew members who the seat next to the commander.

"Siha...I wouldn't want to impose."

"Nonsense Thane, you're a part of this team as much everyone else here."

You step closer to the man whose extended lifespan feels nothing short of a miracle, the man you've come to love with all of your soul. If it wasn't for the war, you would spend every second you could spare with him until his last breath.

His hands feel cold against yours, his touch so familiar and full of longing.

Your eyes are full of promises when you meet his deep green ones, surrounded by abyssal darkness like the deep ocean. Promises to fight this war, to make the world a better place.

For Kolyat. You'll make sure his son gets to grow up in a safe world. That even when Thane is gone, he can entrust you to be a guardian to his son and look out for him after the fight is won.

But for now, you ask nothing more of this life than this one chance to share a meal with the two of them. Sit around a breakfast table, have a glimpse of what a normal life with Thane must have looked like in a different world.

A world where you took this for granted, calling him your husband, eating at the same table with his son everyday.

With a nod, Thane accepts.

At first Kolyat is shy and unsure at sitting next to so many people, most of them legends...and hungover.

It's endearing how much this scene reminds you of how Thane first acted at the start of the casino mission, like father like son.

But after some time, Kolyat starts opening up to others and answering their curious questions. Surprisingly, it's Grunt who is the most interested in him, continuesly asking him about sharks, and if he has seen any.

Kolyat answers that he has swam with many.

Just like that, with one simple sentence, Grunt is hooked.

The young krogan eagrly pushes James out of the seat next to Kolyat so he may claim it for his own.

The two of them clicking immediately. By the end of it, they have exchanged contact information with Grunt promising to share his secret stash of shark videos with Kolyat who turned out to be very knowledgeable about marine biology.

Thane whispers to you that his son used to have a marine life encyclopedia as a kid. It was laminated and waterproof, much like all the books produced by the hanar usually are. His son cried so much after accidentally losing during a beach visit once, so much so that a passing hanar offered to go swim down and retrieve it.

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