#i gave him his fair share of scars

[map1e-1stru3]

behold, Branzycraft! It is a bit different from the hermits I usually draw, but he’s cool :p

Eyes close-up

[ponderingmoonlight]

Satoru Gojo purposely keeping the scar you gave him instead of using reversed technique

Pairing: husband! Gojo x reader

Word Count: 1,6k

Synopsis: When his skin gets busted by your sheer excitement, it doesn't feel right to Satoru to use his reversed technique and simply heal.

Warnings: fluff fluff fluff, Yuji's "death" scnene in season 1, blood lol

Thank you dear anon for aggressively reminding me that it's canon for Gojo to not have any scars, it really helped me cooking up that fic! 🤍

Every step feels like hell, the only thing that keeps you from collapsing onto the floor being the reassuring hand of your husband on your shoulder.

This can’t be true, it’s just impossible. Yuji Itadori was a member of Jujutsu High for a few weeks, just started to get to know this world better. This was supposed to be an easy mission, the three of them should have made it out alive with ease. But apparently, Sukuna decided to show up. And apart from injuring Megumi, he violently took Yuji’s life by ripping his heart out. A heart made of pure gold, a heart so precious that you couldn’t help but care for that boy the minute you saw him.

But now he’s dead.

Your hands start shaking immediately the minute you step into this cursed room you visited far too often, gazing at Yuji’s body covered by a cloak. This isn’t a bad dream. No, the blood covering the white cloak tells you more than urgently that Yuji Itadori isn’t there anymore.

“Please tell me that there’s a chance he’ll come back”, you mutter.

Oh, how much both Shoko and Satoru hate to see you like that. It’s not a secret to anyone at Jujutsu High how deeply you care about your students, loving them like your own children. Of course, this isn’t the first time you’ve seen a student die in front of your eyes. In times like these, jujutsu sorcerers pass away like flies. But Satoru knows what you’ve seen in Yuji, that he somehow reflected parts of yourself. And still, you weren’t able to protect that boy, both Satoru and you coming too late to rescue him.

“I really wish I could, but he shows no signs of life. I’ll move on to autopsy now. If you want to say goodbye…Maybe do it now and leave afterwards.”

Satoru wraps his arms around you just in time before you slide onto the ground, holding you tightly against his chest.

“This is not fair”, you breathe out, head still not able to accept Yuji’s farewell.

He was so young, so full of life. He doesn’t deserve to die, he still had so much ahead of him. There needs to be something you are able to do. Aren’t Satoru or Shoko able to use their cursed technique?

“He didn’t show any signs of life for hours by now, (y/n). Not even Shoko or me are able to bring him back to life. I’m so sorry”, he mumbles against your ear out of nowhere.

So this is really how it ended? With Yuji getting killed by none other than Sukuna himself? Like in trance, your wobbly legs carry you to the autopsy table his lifeless body lays on. You want to stretch out your arm, want to look at that precious boy one last time before Shoko does her job.

But you can’t.

“I can’t look at him”, you blurt out.

With a swift motion, you turn around and burry your face against your husband’s chest.

“It’s okay babe, just look at me, okay? You don’t have to do this.”

Satoru’s arms keep you from losing yourself completely, soak up your falling tears while his head rests against yours. Oh Yuji, you’ll never be forgotten. All the laughter’s both of you shared, his potential, how he always cared about others. You will think about him every time the sun starts to rise, when new students get greeted, when you kill another curse-

“Hey, what’s up? Huh, what are both of you doing here, Gojo-sensei?”

This voice…

That was Yuji Itadori.

Out of instinct you turn around rapidly, not even noticing how the back of your head crushes into Satoru’s forehead with full force. He sees starts, blood taking his sight in an instant while his mind isn’t even able to comprehend it was Yuji who just spoke.

“Yuji! Are you okay? Are you hurt? You’re back!”, you babble out, embracing the boy in a tight hug.

“To be honest I don’t even know what happened last and I’m pretty hungry…Oh, you’re bleeding Gojo-sensei!”

You’re…bleeding? You turn around in confusion, following Yuji’s eyes.

“OMG SATORU!”, you cry out, the sight of your husband covered in his own blood shocking you to your core.

When did that happened…Was it…you?

“I guess you were so happy to see Itadori that you’ve forgot about me standing behind you”, he mutters amused.

“Babe I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just got so carried away and-“

“Don’t worry about me. Reversed technique, remember? I’ll be whole in seconds. Just look after Yuji, I love you.”

You let out the breath you were holding, the bright smile forming on your gorgeous face making Satoru forget the world around him for a moment. You are so caring, so passionate. And you are his wife.

“I’m a lucky man”, he mutters to himself while pressing the tissue Shoko handed him against his wound.

There you sit, gently caressing Yuji’s cheeks and asking him over and over if he’s okay.

“You really are. This isn’t a problem for you, right?”, Shoko questions with one glance at the laceration on his forehead.

The shocked look on your face replays itself over and over in his mind, lets a chuckle escape his lips. With the help but his reversed technique, it would be way too easy to get rid of that minor wound. Within seconds, there wouldn’t even be a scar left, just his flawless skin. But…it was you who did this to him out of sheer excitement. It sure would be nice to look into the mirror and get reminded of you daily, right?

“Oh, I might as well keep that”, he replies with a sly grin.

- a few weeks later -

You sit on the edge of the couch, desperately waiting for that time of the day. Even after being married to that force of a man for 4 years now, you find yourself getting all excited when he announces that he’s going to shower. Because going to shower means that he’ll come out just wearing boxers with his body still a little wet and his hair sticking to his face in that delicate way.

“Still waiting for me, huh? It’s not like you can see me naked every time you want, babe”, he finally purrs.

Your heart skips a beat. This man…How is it even allowed to look so breathtakingly gorgeous? The way a single droplet of water runs down his cheek, how he gently strokes his damp hair back.

Wait. You squint your eyes a little harder. What is that on his forehead?

“What do you have there?”, you question, rubbing your own hand against the ride side of your forehead.

This almost looks like a scar. But Satoru shouldn’t have scars. After all, he’s able to use reversed technique, healing himself in the matter of seconds. Is it just dirt? No, that definitely looks like scar tissue.

“Oh, it’s nothing”, he immediately tries to brush you off, pulling his hair back into his face.

“No way Romeo, come back here right now”, you demand.

With a swift motion you lift yourself off the couch and hunt after him.

“Is that a scar?”

“It might be…”

“Why didn’t you just heal it? Show it to me!”

When you finally catch him, you slick his hair back again. Only to be greeted what indeed looks like a middle-sized scar. But why and how did this happen, why didn’t he just heal like he usually does?

“You really don’t know where this came from?”, he challenges you.

You blink a few times. What the hell is your husband talking about?

“Why would I know where this came from?”

“Because it was you, (y/n)?”, he playfully bites back.

You? Your mind races, searching for a single moment you ever hurt your husband. You were never really able to even hurt him, no matter how berserk you went in training. When was the last time you even wounded him? But wait, there was this one time you made him bleed, that one time when…

“This was when Yuji woke up-“

“EXACTLY!”, Satoru cries out and gives you a round of applause.

“But why did you keep it? You said you’d be able to heal it…”

“Because I didn’t want to. This scar right here”

Gently, he takes your hand in his and traces the soft scar with your fingertips.

“will always remind me of what a wonderful human being you are.”

Oh. Your eyes turn glossy in an instant, staring up at your loving husband while he gifts you with the most breath-taking smile you’ve ever seen.

“Satoru”, you breathe out.

There is no time to waste. You wrap your longing arms around his tall frame tightly, aiming to never let him go again.

“Every time I look into the mirror, I think about my wonderful wife”, he mutters into your hair.

“Y’know, you could just take a picture of me or something-“

“No. I would rather just keep that scar of my wonderful wife smacking me over a student.”

You hit him playfully over his comment, a giggle escaping your precious lips.

“Come on, it wasn’t like that…”

“I’ll always tell the story like this.”

Tags: @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @hellkaiserinphoenix @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee  @froufrousnowman @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp@localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @satoreo

Dividers by @saradika 🤍

[rangerbarbz]

Serving Up Romance

Author’s Note: Guys holy FUCK y’all have blown up my account!! Thank you all so much! I just can’t believe it like i'm going bonkers. Thank you so much for all your kind words and everything!! Also, I can’t believe I’ve never written for 80s Stan that’s crazy. (Also i know he’s never worn a denim jacket but i had a vision) 

“Serving up Romance”

You had been working as a waitress at Greasy’s Diner since you first moved to the strange town of Gravity Falls. While others might turn their nose up at waitressing, you loved it. You got the opportunity to know everyone in town, hear their gossip, and meet passer-bys driving through on road trips. You never knew who was going to walk through those doors or what incredible story they were going to tell you. One slow day at the diner, you were making a pot of coffee when you heard the bell above the door jingle. 

“Welcome to Greasy’s! Sit wherever you want, and I’ll be with you in just a sec,” you called out, pouring water into the coffee maker. You heard someone sit at the swivel stool behind you. 

“Take your time, doll. I’m in no rush,” a gruff voice responded. Hm. You didn’t recognize that tone. You turned around to see a man with dark brown hair in a white t-shirt and denim jacket, chewing on a toothpick. You noticed that there were patches of different fabrics and patterns all over the jacket. He hadn’t noticed you were looking at him because he was reading the small menu that was attached to the metal condiment holder. 

You smiled at him. “I like your jacket,” you complimented the handsome stranger. 

His attention quickly diverted to you. He chuckled. “Oh, this old thing?” He lifted up his arms to show off more of his patches. “Thanks. It’s been through the ringer let me tell ya. My ma taught me how to hand stitch so that any time I ripped it, I could fix it right up.” 

“That’s so sweet.” You reached out to point at one that was yellow with small, red flowers on his shoulder. “I like this one.” He looked over to see which one you were talking about and laughed. 

“That one I got from a motel pillow case! I accidentally caught my shoulder on fire.” You raised your eyebrows at him. His gaze became stern. “I learned to keep my distance from candles that day on.” 

You burst out laughing. “Now is this a true story?” you asked, propping your chin up on the palm of your hand. 

He grinned, moving his toothpick to the other side of his mouth. “True as you are pretty, sweetheart.”

You giggled as a blush started to spread across your cheeks.“Alright, slick, what can I get you?” you responded, removing a notepad from the front pocket of your apron. He picked up the menu and gave it a quick once over.

“Uh… Give me the bacon and eggs. Scrambled, please, and one cup of coffee.” You finished scribbling his order and turned to put it in the window. 

“Can I get a name for this order?” you asked, winking at him from the coffee pot. You began to walk back over to him with a mug of black coffee. 

He gave you a wide smile. “Stan Pines, proprietor of The Mystery Shack,” he answered, hand outreached to you in greeting. 

“Y/N Y/L/N, waitress at Greasy’s Diner.” You shook his hand; it was firm, calloused, and felt very nice against your smooth skin. You turned over his hand to take a look at his scarred knuckles you noticed when he was holding the menu earlier. You dragged your thumb over the puckered, white lines.

“You got fighting hands, Stan.” You gazed at him through your lashes and grinned.“Sexy.” Now it was his turn to be flustered. His face grew red at your bold statement and laughed nervously. 

“Thank you.” He cleared his throat. “I, uh, used to box, and I’ve gotten myself into a fair share of…scuffles.” You gave him a small smile. You were about to comment on that until the bell dinged from the window signaling that his food was done. 

“Bacon and eggs are up!” the chef barked. His loud voice startled you which made Stan laugh. 

“Sorry, let me get your food real quick.” You let go of his hand reluctantly and went to get his plate. What you didn’t see was him smirking to himself and touching the scars you grazed. He couldn’t remember the last time someone genuinely complimented him. 

Things started to pick up after you served Stan his food, so you didn’t get to continue your conversation. However, you made sure that when he paid for his meal, you got to talk to him one last time. 

“Will I be seeing you again, Stan?” you asked, getting his change from the cash register. “You should come next Tuesday! We serve waffle tacos then.” He laughed as you dropped the coins into his hand. 

“Well, I obviously can’t miss waffle tacos,” he responded with a smile. 

“I’ll see you then. It was nice to meet you, Stan! Don’t go catching yourself on fire on your way out!” you joked as he began walking towards the exit. 

“No promises, doll.” 

Over the next couple weeks, Stan continued to come into the diner and sit in the same swivel stool as he did when you first met him. He ordered a different thing on the menu each time making it his goal to try everything you had to offer. Your conversations were playful, flirty, but, most of all, interesting. He had quite the colorful past, but that didn’t scare you off. In fact, it made you more intrigued. 

One day, during a particularly busy shift, Stan walked in as always. “Hey, hon!” you greeted him while placing a plate of pancakes in front of a fussy toddler. “I’ll be right with ya!” You then noticed he had one of his hands behind his back, and he seemed a bit nervous. 

He didn’t sit down this time, but instead stood at the cash register. You walked over with a confused expression on your face. “Stan? Are you not eating today?” 

“Um, well, no. Not today, doll. I, uh, wanted to give you these.” His face was bright pink as he presented you with a large bouquet of wildflowers. You gasped. “I hope you like them. I found a whole bunch of them in a field near one of the backroads.”

“Oh, Stan,” you said softly. You took the bouquet from him and held it gently, admiring it. “It’s just beautiful, but why?” 

He started to rub the back of his neck and looked down at his feet. “There’s a drive-in movie happening tonight outside of town, and I wanted to take you with me,” he murmured shyly. “I think you’re real nice and fun to talk to and you got a knock-out smile.” He paused. “I would…like to get to know you outside the diner.” He finally made eye contact with you to see your reaction to everything he had said. 

You hadn’t stopped beaming at him since he handed you the flowers. “Stan, I would love to join you.” You reached out to cup his face with your free hand and gave him a peck on his cheek, his stubble tickling your lips. “What time should I be expecting you?” 

His eyes widened at you, his hand touching where you had kissed him. “Um, I. The, uh, movie starts at 7:45, so I’ll pick you up at 7:00,” he stammered, face as red as his Diablo. 

“Sounds good, sugar,” you replied, giving him a slip of paper that you had written your address on while he was talking. “I can’t wait to see what tricks a romantic like you has up his sleeves.” 

Stan let out a giggle before quickly covering it up by clearing his throat. “I guess you’ll have to find out tonight. I’ll see you then, sweetheart.” He gave your hand a squeeze before walking out the way he came in. 

“I’m going on a date with Mr. Mystery,” you whispered to yourself excitedly, burying your nose in the bouquet. 

PART 2 COMING SOON

[lunarw0rks]

I feel like Graves would end up with a really soft and innocent s/o just because he loves being the 'strong man' lol and even though they're maybe even smaller than him all sweet and shy- he is absolutely whipped for them! Especially if they can cook and be a lil housemaker for him??

♡♡♡ warning(s): nsfw + sfw, fem!reader

─── graves and his homemaker s/o ❤︎₊ ⊹

there's no one on earth more loved and adored by him, despite the stigma surrounding the dynamic you two have. he doesn't pay any mind to their judgements. in his heart, he knows how tender he is with you behind closed doors. and in yours, he hopes.

you never pictured it to end up this way. before, you were like any adult. busting your ass at work, ending each week exhausted and struggling to buy yourself groceries.

and then you met him. chivalrous and borderline self-obsessed. but you weren't being patronized when he acted with traditional courtesy. you weren't a body to be claimed or a trophy to hang on his arm.

you were merely his. all his within months of meeting, and that meant you were to be taken care of. spoiled rotten, some would say. what better way to have it? compared to your old life of hardship, it was paradise.

everything paid for, without a second of hesitation. what little savings you had idle in your bank account, untouched when he's around.

he can and will take care of you — in every way. it's in graves' nature to provide.

no different than he does for his men, only you've been appointed the privilege of seeing the gentler side of him, when the uniform of a commander is rid of his scarred body.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈nsfw under the cut!

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙˖⁺₊˚⊹♡ it's only fair, to be taken care of in every way possible. you've been so good to him, so good for him, right? there's no quicker way to his heart, than someone who enjoys being smothered with his praise.

what better sight, than opening the door and seeing you concerning with such trivial things. he spent the day making life or death decisions, and you're there; concerned with which centerpiece looks best on the dining table. some men would see it as a means for competition, or a degrade — but graves finds it irresistible.

the house smells divine; your scented candles, the fragrance you spritz, and whatever you have baking in the oven. he can practically feel the tension leave his shoulders, how his senses come alive when greeted with the comfort of your shared home.

you've dressed nice for him again, though he always gave no pressure for you to do so. clothes to match the summer heat, hair styled and pinned back to stay out of the way.

you, in your domestic, relaxed state — the one thing better than all the trivial pleasures in life, better than the house you were both standing in.

though you usual greet him, you're immersed in the centerpiece debate. you hold the two pieces up to him, "do you think I should go with the silver candle candleholders? or how about the brass ones?" it's a genuine question, but it's only met with an amused scoff — a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

graves sets aside his luggage, stepping closer to you and your very concentrated gaze. "why do you ask me, sweetheart? it's up to you. and if you don't like 'em, we'll go buy more." he examines the decor in your hands briefly, but his eyes end up back on you permanently.

"just want it to look nice in here," you sigh at his dismissal, turning away to resume contemplation. "we have that supper planned in a few weeks, don't we?" you add, setting the options back on the oak table.

as if the place could be more meticulously decorated. there was barely a trace of him in this house, except for his nightstand and office. you had free reign to adjust the home to your taste, considering you were the one who spent most of your time there.

a gentle chuckle rang from him, followed by a click of his tongue, "don't think it can get much nicer in here, darlin'. i reckon you've left a touch on just about every inch of place, haven't you?" you shoot a flustered look, even though his words are truthful.

it was a silly dilemma, considering not a soul would be criticizing your centerpiece decision. "oh, c'mon, don't do that face... my guys will eat anything you slide in front of them, you know that? could host the damn supper in the closet and you'd charm the daylights out of 'em." he says, soothing every worry down to a simmer rather than a hard boil.

he's definitely good at shutting you up. only, in the most embellished of ways. without fail, a charmed smile spread on your face — as did a surge of warmth. graves cupped one of your cheeks, running his thumb along it, "see? much better than a scowl. now, tell me, what's cooking?"

"you know the rules. i can't tell you until the timer beeps. besides, it's supposed to be a surprise." you replied, making a meek escape from his gentle grasp. displayed on the small screen; eight minutes remained.

with a hasty yank and then a stumble on your end, your back was against his chest. "i don't like surprises, do i?" you felt the sensation of his teeth nibbling along the side of your neck, all in the midst of his patterned kisses. when he was this close, he got deep whiffs of your intoxicating perfume, the freshly shampooed hair on your head, the detergent you insisted he buy. heart-stopping — like it was every time he pulled you close.

it was true, he hated them. the tickle of his lips made you squirm — a futile attempt to slip away and leave him hanging. that never worked, and you knew it. "we're down to five, time's a-wastin'."

somehow, someway, neither of you made it up the stairs this time. all he did to prepare was send the stacks of mail flying from the island; the one you found yourself sitting on. graves stood between your legs, his caressing fingers your means of preparation. though, by the times your legs were exposed to the breeze — you and your body were eager enough for him.

the minutes decreased no matter how hurriedly he moved, and he always stuck to his rules. if there was a time limit, he'd get it done before zero.

"been thinking about you all day," he breathes. "by the looks of it, you have too, sweetheart." his tip prodded at your slick entrance, while the other hand hooked around your thigh to keep it hiked up with ease. wasn't the first time he ravished you on the kitchen counters, it certainly wouldn't be the last. slowly at first, then all at once — he thrusted inside of you.

once he got situated, there was no stopping him. every rock of his hips was purposeful and deep, yet his kisses remained delicate and tender. your moans muffled against his mouth, his lips pinkish and coated with saliva as it roamed your warmed face.

soon, your back was flat against the island with your legs still hanging off and in his grip. with every methodical movement, your walls tightened around his length and edged him closer to a finish. by now, you were certain your appearance was faulty; either ruined by sweat or the constant hands graves had on you.

despite being close within the first few minutes, he had gotten carried away ogling you. your gasps, your squinted eyes, the teeth indents on your bottom lip from how harshly you sunk into it. however, now there wasn't any restraint left in him. the tight coil in his abdomen begged for release, no matter how much stamina that remained in his body.

as the clock struck zero, he bottomed out with the force of his whole body — spilling every last drop inside of you. the oven beeped three times, as if on cue.

a string of curses against your lips as he leaned down to kiss you, sneaking in a few sloppy thrusts afterward. "i'll make it up to you later, make it worth your while." he pecked along your jaw, adjusting the strap of your top that had slid down your arm.

"it was worth my while." you replied between catching your breath, voice still quivering slightly.

he chuckled, fingers still playing with the fabric, "so, what's cooking? have i earned my right to know?" he was right; you always told him once the meal was ready, and that's what it was right now. the aroma hit your nostrils, as intoxicating as he found yours.

your eyes flicked over to the digital screen, still flashing and urging you to remove the pan, then it beeped for a second round as a reminder. "just a roast your mom taught me. thought you would've recognized the smell by now." you uttered, tracing your fingers along his blond stubble.

"hm, something must've distracted me, darlin'," he ran a tongue along his bottom lip, now gazing with admiration rather than hunger.

then, his brow raised with interest. both in humor and intense dread he added, "you've been calling my mother?"

[solaireez]

untitled 2

Luke castellan x reader

warning: its js fluff🥺 one bed trope, enemies to lovers

wc: 554

a/n: i couldn’t sleep😭😭😭 y/n’s kinda crushing on luke (who isnt) its pretty much gender neutral, i dont describe reader at all. im sorry i named this untitled again, im not creative😘

You keep tossing and turning beneath the sheets, the sheets you happen to share with Luke Castellan. The beam of moonlight creeping through the sheer curtains. The sound of his breathing kept polluting your ears.

“Can’t sleep?” his voice broke the silence. you had my back to him, refusing to face your sworn enemy. It wasn’t supposed to go like this. You specifically requested twin beds. To be fair, Luke did offer to sleep on the floor, but your feelings got caught between your pride.

“Shut up.” You kept digging your face into the cold duvet. “You’re making it worse.” Groaning, you finally turned to face him.

As you turned your body, you see that he was already facing you. His scar seemed more prominent in the nightlight. His hair was pointing in different directions, some covering his face. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he looked very beautiful.

“What’s on your mind?” His voice was sore. You felt your self respect slipping away the more you look at him. Maybe if you gave him a chance he wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe.

All you could do was shake your head. It’s not that you didn’t want to share. It was just that the thoughts that was keeping you awake, was all about him.

When Luke got the quest, the last person you’d expect he’d choose to come with him, was you. You two rarely talked, when you did, it was just him trying to egg you on, and then you throwing a few insults at him. And those interactions usually occur during sword fights.

“Why’d you choose me?” Your voice was barely a whisper. You could see his face contort. You waited for his answer. Maybe he would just say ‘I don’t know.’ and you could finally go to sleep.

“Do you seriously not see it, y/n?” He let out a laugh. you felt his hand go beneath the covers, snaking between your fingers. You had no idea what he was talking about. You didn’t hide your confusion. He could clearly see it on your face.

He moved closer to you, still holding your hand.

“I’m crazy about you, y/n.” He let go of your hand, moving it up your body until he reached your flustered cheeks. You couldn’t get words out of your mouth. Maybe it was shock, most likely it was the overwhelming happiness you were feeling.

He was about to say something, before you crashed your lips to his. You slid your hands to his dark curls, entangling your fingers to his locks. He kissed back with more fervor, placing his hand on your waist.

You were the first to pull away, your forehead resting on his. heavy breaths clouded around you. you finally looked up at him, separating the touch. He was already admiring you, a smug smirk on his lips, before his smile broke into laughter. His laugh igniting fireworks within you.

“What?” You laughed with him. His laugh died down, hands moving back up to your face, and pulling you back in for a kiss. You could feel his smile pressed to yours. You couldn’t contain your laughter as you kiss him, making you break away. You dug your face to his neck, breathing him in, as the sound of his chuckles fill your ears.

[spacedace]

@proshipper-on-ship​ thank you for the Dick & Dan idea you added to my other post, please enjoy some of the fall out your comment resulted in haha

“So,” Bruce tried, looking hesitantly pleased at the surprisingly light atmosphere around the table. “Anything new and exciting going on with anyone?”

There was a smattering of answers from around the table. Jason didn’t offer anything - which wasn’t surprising, that he was even there and largely not starting a fight was more than enough as far as Dick was concerned - but with some ribbing from Steph, Tim eventually admitted to finally asking that boy he’d been interested in out. Dick joined in on teasing his little brother - and even Jay gave, for him, some gentle ribbing over finally getting the balls to do something, eh Timberland? - while very carefully avoiding mentioning his own sorta-kinda thing with Dan in Bludhaven. He’d deal with his siblings making him miserable and embarrassed over it all when he actually scored a date with him thanks very much.

Things were going good.

And then Damian cleared his throat, looking imperious and uninterested at the same time as he waited for everyone to turn to look at him.

“I have an announcement on an alteration to my personal life.” He declared, chin up and looking like he was already over this whole family-bonding-time thing, which was fair. Damian had gotten better over the years, but he was still not exactly the cute and cuddly little brother. Dick still had the scar from the last time he tried to hug Dami without warning a year ago and got stabbed for the effort. Still, he was sharing, willingly even! That’s progress!

At the head of the table Bruce tilted his head, looking as cautiously hopeful as Dick felt over the youngest Wayne actually offering to share something personal. “Have you decided on what college you want to go to then?”

“No.” Dami dismissed easily, without more than a glance in Bruce’s direction. “Night and I have decided to take some time to travel before continuing any further schooling.”

Huh, honestly, Dick was kinda surprised. With how much of a perfectionist Dami was, he’d thought he’d throw himself into college with the same ferocious, competitive drive he did everything else. But then again, if Elle Nightingale was going to be taking a gap year or two, it wasn’t as if it was that much of a surprise that Dami would go and join her.

The two gremlins had been practically inseparable since they were twelve and discovered a shared love of stabbing people and adopting every animal they see. If Dami’s best friend was going to go gallivanting across the world like she always dreamed of doing, Dick couldn’t actually be that  surprised that Dami would be going with her.

Dick took a sip of his drink as Dami opened his mouth to continue with what was probably going to be to most people the world’s most harrowing game of “how many incredibly dangerous animals can we see before we end up dead on our gap year” that the two demons were undoubtedly planning.

He regretted taking that sip almost immediately as Damian said, “Night and I took our marital vows yesterday. She sends her regrets that she was unable to join us for family dinner tonight.”

Predictably, the room broke out into utter chaos.

Dick choked on his drink, spraying across the table and splattering Babs with a shower of wine. She didn’t even seem to notice, dropping her own glass as she snapped her head over to stare at Damian, the sound of breaking glass and a deep red stain pooling across the table following as she did. At the end of the table, Jay made a noise like a dying goose as the samosa he’d just popped in his mouth threatened to kill him. Cass, perhaps the most outwardly calm at the proclamation, only stared with wide eyes at her younger brother as she hit Jason on the back in an attempt to make sure he didn’t die.

Dick could practically hear the old shrieking AOL dial up noise that was Tim’s brain attempting to process what his little brother had just said, while sitting next to him Steph gave a small shriek of you what? Duke’s head was on a swivel, eyes darting from Damian, to another family member, to Damian and back again as if unsure who to even look at in the moment.

Bruce just…stared, frozen in place, face caught in the most open look of shock Dick thinks the man has ever shown in his life.

—

Damian sniffed and cast a caustic look towards - of all people - Jason, “Unlike some people, I share my good news with the family in a timely manner.”

Jay sputtered, “You know what, fuck you! Fine, you want me to share the news?” Jay snapped his head towards the rest of them. “Jazz is pregnant, baby is due next month on the sixth. Baby shower’s next weekend at Robinson Park, show up or don’t, I really don’t give a fuck.”

Or maybe he was just going to try to kill them with a heart attack.

“What the fuck?!”

“Language!”

“Who the fuck is Jazz?!”

“Language!”

“Night’s elder sister and guardian, Drake, keep up. You should know this, you’re dating her brother.”

“I’m what?”

“And Grayson is having flirtations with her other brother.”

“Dan is Elle’s older brother? Wait - how do you know about that?”

“Todd and I are in the Nightingale family group chat. We have endured far too much waxing poet about your posterior over the past months.”

“Why do they all have variations of the same name? Who gives all their children the same name?”

“He likes my ass?”

“Oh my god, bigger picture Dick, focus.”

“Seriously, do they all have the same name outside of the older sister? I feel like we need to acknowledge they all have the same name.”

“Can we go back to the fact that Damian got married? To Elle? Yesterday? How did you even do that without anyone knowing?

“Dr. Nightingale is a notary.”

“…Dr. Nightingale as in the woman Bruce is investigating Dr. Nightingale?”

“Okay but the name thing? Please tell me you’re not naming the baby some variation of the name Daniel.”

“If the gremlins get their way it will be. Do you know how many lists we’ve made that they keep sabotaging?”

“So you have Dan’s number? Could you give it to me?”

“Jesus Christ, Dick I’m begging you.”

“Why did you guys even get married?”

“For the diplomatic immunity.”

“You don’t have diplomatic immunity.”

“I do now.”

“What does that mean?”

[bunnys-kisses]

Hello bunny!!!! I love your bakery series, it's so cute! I have zero clue if you even write for it. But is it possible to get a Jason Todd from DC? Can I get cinnamon rolls with a side of martini & energy drink!

Thank you so much <33333

bakery menu

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu! there's tons of items on there along with all the guidelines for submitting an order! as for this anon, thank you for submitting it! i haven't received a dc or marvel request so this is very exciting! so thank you, i hope you enjoy!! (if anyone else wishes to submit anything comic related, please do!!)

cinnamon rolls ("no one needs to know.") + martini (mafia au) + energy drink (doggy style) served by jason todd/red hood (dc comics)

cw: smut/pwp, mafia au, doggy style, mafia boss!reader, boxer!jason todd

you wouldn't consider yourself a bad girl. you in a lot of ways were servicing the people of gotham. you were doing what you felt was right in a broken system.

but even one of the most dangerous women in the city needed a little assistance. that was when your beloved boxer came into your life. his name was jason, a boy thrown out then became a broken man. but, you liked to fix broken things.

you gave jason purpose again, even going as far as to tend to his injuries he got in the ring. kissing along his side and across his knuckles. the red hood was your pride and joy and he in turn adored you more than weeds on the sidewalk loved the sun.

you had returned from the art gallery that evening, it was open late on wednesdays and jason wished to come with you. you held his hand the entire time and kissed him gently when he gazed at a picasso.

"did you have fun?" you asked as you slipped your shoes off.

jason nodded, "i did, i mean, you were more beautiful than anything in that gallery." he chuckled as he took off his sweatshirt and put it over the side of the couch.

you looked at him and walked over to him. you placed your hands on his chest. in all fairness, he was more beautiful than anything in that gallery. if a true artist could capture him in a piece of work, they could probably make millions.

even with all the scarring, the damage on him. to feel his heartbeat under your palm felt nice. you leaned up to kiss him on the lips. he wrapped his strong arms around you.

when you pulled away, you ran a finger across a scar on his face and said, "thank you for coming with me." you had to get up on your tip-toes to get closer to his face.

he chuckled, "ah well, who else would go with you? isn't my job to protect you?"

you chuckled, "no, your job is to punch very hard for me." you joked before you pulled him in for another kiss. you did very little to hide your relationship with jason, you didn't feel the need to. as head of the family, who you were with was not a concern to those below you.

one time you had heard an insult fall from the lips of a a rival family and you simply upper cut the man. jason may be at your side as your defender, but you were more than capable of taking care of yourself.

it was just nice to have a companion.

you both ended up in your shared bedroom. jason got you onto the bed and you started to unbutton the blouse you wore. and he took off the white undershirt he wore. you got a better look at all his scarring and once your shirt was off, you reached for him and grazed your fingers across the scar down the middle of his chest.

he never told you what happened, and you didn't want to pry too much. you believed it would all come out at one point or another. even if it didn't, you'd still love him.

"you're looking at them again." he said softly.

"no one needs to know." you said as you met his gaze, "what happened. you're still my jason, whatever happened to you." you said softly in return.

jason felt his chest tighten as he said, "thank you." before he started to get his jeans off, followed by your skirt. then he was on top of you on the bed, his hands planted on either side of you as he pulled you in for a kiss.

you both took off your undergarments down to your socks and laid in be for a moment, naked in each other's embrace.

jason then got you onto your elbows and knees, his strong hands on your hips as he rubbed his cock up against your slick slit. he groaned through his teeth as he continued to do so. it felt so good against him.

the most dangerous woman in gotham in bed with a boxer. what a sight. you felt the love for him cloud your chest, leaving it tight.

"you have my entire heart." you admitted.

"and you have mine." he replied. he slowly slipped his cock into your pussy and held onto your hips. he sank into you with ease. he knew that he was much bigger than you, so he had to be careful as to not harm you.

he kept his pace steady the more he rutted against you.

jason had never felt more alive then when he was with you. he thought that his life revolved around punching the shit out of people in the boxing ring. the sound of his fists hitting against flesh, that was his purpose. that was what made him feel alive.

but you lit a flame in him. the spitfire woman who handled the family with ease. he wanted you, yearned for you in ways that he never thought he would with another person.

his cock nudged against your cervix and you whimpered against the sheets a little with your back arched. you felt like a dream, the perfect woman for him. he sped up the pace a little bit, keeping a steady rhythm against you.

"you feel so good." he said, "i wish i could nail you up against the wall of the gallery. since you're the most beautiful thing there." he chuckled a little bit.

you arched your back a little but, "you're so fuckin' cheesy, jason."

he chuckled a little, "only for you, babe." the sounds of your love making filled the room, he felt hot all over as he continued to move against you.

"please." you panted, "shit." you gripped onto the bed tightly and moaned a little bit, "you feel so good. no one else does it like you, jason." you whimpered.

he clutched onto his hips tighter and moved faster. he swallowed back the pleasure as he continued to move. he buried his nose into the back of your neck, his broad chest against your back. his arms now wrapped around your middle as he bullied his cock into your pussy.

it all felt so overwhelming, hot all over and he thrusted up into you. you felt protected by your lover, he'd always keep you safe. always love you in ways that neither of you could put into words.

you gripped onto the covers under your body and panted wildly into them. you felt the curl of heat in your gut as you raised your hips further to give your lover a better angle.

the solid mass of a man with that streak of white hair hit against the softest parts of you. it made you whine into the bedding. such a submissive position for such a strong woman. jason would always take care of you. with a few more thrusts, you came around his cock.

"please, jason." you panted.

he continued to rut up into you, feeling the pleasure up and down his spine. he gave a few more hearty thrusts before he finished inside of you with a loud groan. his chest was pressed against your back as he yearned to be close to you.

skin to skin. lover to lover.

he slowed down and laid on top of you when you dropped your hips. he then peppered your shoulders with kisses before he pulled out and laid next to you on the bed. his strong body exposed in the low lamp light of the bedroom.

"jason."

"yeah, hun." he said as he tried to level out his breathing.

you were both panting as you rolled to your side and up against his side. your hand on his chest, fingers grazed the scarring. between heavy breaths you said, "my number one."

he chuckled a little as he pulled you closer. he kissed your sweaty brow and replied, "of course, only the best for my girl." then laid a sweet kiss on your lips.

the mafia boss and her boxer, tangled in the sheets. you guessed that he saved your life as much as you saved his. because you'd always find comfort in the beat of his heart. <3

[themotherofhorses]

‘22!simon riley x fem!reader x ‘09!simon riley

warnings: smut. threesome. fingering. allusions to an age gap relationship/relationship between a superior and subordinate. ending open to more future smut.

As I was discussing with @cloudofbutterflies92:

Imagine being sandwiched between ‘09!Ghost and ‘22!Ghost.

Somehow— to be fair, you still don’t know all the details —Ghost’s variant appeared on base; just randomly one October evening, when the 141 was hunkered down in a break room, piled around a TV replaying a previous football match (“Soccer. It’s called soccer, fucking heathens.”).

Well, at least, you assumed him to be his variant; he bore a striking resemblance to your Simon—only years younger, and a tiny bit shorter in height. Yet, the skull-patterned balaclava, shades, and grey-hooded, zipped sweatshirt with the Union Jack patch and insane amount of pockets were the exact same. The sight gave you butterflies in your tummy. 

For the most part, though, you maintained a respectful distance from him—that Ghost, that Simon Riley. 

“Can I refer to him as Poltergeist?”  “Eh, love. Do whatever the hell you want.”

You were Simon Riley’s girl, but he was not your Simon; far from it, in fact. Your Simon was years older, rougher around the edges, with a foul mouth, dry humor, and scars that littered his temple and left cheek. 

Would it still count as cheating? 

Whatever. You refused to think more of it, instead choosing to stow that thought away in the far corner of your mind as you continued on with your main duties and day-to-day routines. By all means, such thinking teetered into dangerous waters — it could be seen as infidelity, which meant a likelihood of losing Simon. You couldn’t survive without him, not without your Simon; he was your soulmate, the same way you were his. 

Which, by extension, meant you were that Simon’s soulmate as well. 

Not that it registered to you, of course. Simon says you’re a bit clueless when it comes to recognizing those little signs; it makes sense — prior to your relationship, you had no idea how obsessed your Lieutenant was with you, and that those lingering touches, soft glances, and praises were not normal between a superior and his subordinate. He calls it endearing (“You’re so clueless, baby. God, what would I do without ya?”). 

Simon— your Simon —knows that his variant wants you. 

It was easy for him to see. Simon Riley loves you so much; he is so unbelievably obsessed with your pretty self, so it made perfect sense for his variant to be equally obsessed with you, too. How could he not be? From the delicious curve of your hipbones, twinkling eyes, and soft hands (so much smaller than his) to the way your plush lips pout, everything about you is utter perfection to him. 

(There is probably no universe out there where he isn’t so fucking deeply in love with you, he tells himself.)

So when his variant’s own blue eyes start following you around anytime you’re in the same room as him (Simon knows he’s licking his lips beneath the balaclava, dirty bloke), instead of feeling jealous, Simon feels— 

—something else. 

Pride. Satisfaction. A bit devilish.

Simon won’t ever share you with anyone else. You’re his. Only he is allowed to see you breathless and whining beneath him, cheeks flushed, soaking the bedsheet as your body ruts against his, soft voice begging for his cock. Other men can dream, but only he lives out those wet dreams. 

But that Simon is still Simon. 

His eyes are almost the same; the bright blueness carries the exact trauma, hardness, and wariness, made from years of childhood abuse and depression. He has the hands once used in the butcher shop, and the long, thin scar on the back of his neck, where his bastard of a father slammed a beer bottle down during a drunken frenzy. The only difference, however, is that his variant still hasn’t found his main reason to live: 

You.

You’re the medicine to Simon’s soul. The first time he gazed into your eyes, he knew he found his reason to continue living in this shitty world; and the first time he stuffed you full of his cock, molding your previously untouched cunt to the shape of him, he told himself there was no way for him to live without you. How he survived this far without you, he’ll never know.

Therefore, he’ll call it a dosage.

You’d call it a threesome. 

He has you seated on the living room couch, legs spread apart wide as both Simons have their hands buried deep in your pretty cunt—stretching you out more than what you’re used to. You take turns sloppily making out with both men, their massive cocks held in your hands as your tongue entangles with theirs.

“Oh…oh my god,” you mewl, suddenly flinging your head back as their thick fingers piston in and out of your tiny hole; there is a soft, squelching sound that fills the room as they repeatedly slide through your juices.

“Bloody hell, she’s fuckin’ gorgeous,” the younger Simon groans, bending down to suck on your nipple. He runs his free hand over your other breast, teasing your sensitive nub with his thumb. “Lucky bastard.” 

Your Simon smirks at that. “She loves havin’ her pretty pussy played with. Aye, don’t ya, love?” His fingers curl to hit that spongy g-spot that causes you to shriek and squirm and see stars, your pussy tightening around him. Simon grits his teeth. “Look at ya, baby…all flushed and panting.” He picks up the pace, thrusting his two fingers faster.

“C’mon, pretty girl," he further coos, tucking a strand behind your ear. "Be a good girl and cum all over our hands, yeah?” 

You nod, bucking your hips to follow their thrusts, in sheer desperation for your orgasm. The younger Simon leaves wet kisses along your jawline, lathering the skin around your mouth with his tongue. “God, you taste so fucking good,” he murmurs against your skin with a deep, guttural moan, his fingers continuing to fuck your pussy, with his thumb rubbing your puffy, little clit roughly. 

“Tastes good for a Yank, huh?”

“I could survive off of her for life.”

Your back arches from the overstimulation, a puddle of salva pooling at the edge of your swollen lips. “Si—SIMON, FUCK.” You’re not sure which Simon the moan is meant to be for, and you’re also not sure how much longer you’re gonna last; your pussy is only becoming wetter, and you’re unable to muster out any words. “P-please, please, p-please.”

“Good fucking girl. That’s it. Cum for us. Cum for your men.” 

Meanwhile, younger Simon kisses the side of your mouth, pumping his fingers inside your poor pussy faster. “C’mon, love. Lemme feel you cum.” 

“Cum on our fingers—” your Simon mumbles in your ear again, pausing to suck your earlobe between his lips. He gives it a gentle tug with his teeth, making you squeak.“—like a good girl, and you’ll get your pussy eaten. Sounds good, yeah, don’t it, baby?” 

“Simon,” you whine out, oh so prettily. 

He grins. “C’mon, baby. That’s my good girl. Gimme  it—I know you can, pretty girl.” 

His words do it for you. With a loud, high-pitched moan, your mouth drops in a perfect, little ‘o’ as you shriek, gushing around their fingers, feeling a sharp orgasm raking across your body. Your legs shake while you fall limp against the couch’s cushion, breathing heavily. 

“Holy shit,” the younger Simon breathes while pulling his fingers out of your pussy. Would you look at that? In the room’s lighting, he can see the way they glisten with a mess of your juices, staring down at it with a mix of admiration, awe, and pure lust.

“Fuck.” He raises them to his mouth, slowly sucking off your essence with a low mmmm. “So fuckin’ good.” 

"Yeah?"

"Bloody fuckin' lucky bloke you are, mate."

"I know."

Their back-and-forth banter makes you giggle. "God," you pant, all flushed and covered in countless hickies. “Can’t drive for shit but knows how to give a girl a damn good orgasm.” 

“Hey,” your Simon chuckles, squeezing your thigh. “Don’t start with that shit, love.” He gives your forehead a kiss before gently caressing your chin, “Why don’t ya spread your thighs again and give him a taste, right from the source, hm?”  

[jarofstyles]

Stay Right Here - Just a Touch

It’s been ages since we updated this one I’m so sorry! But I had a part already on Patreon I don’t think I put up here and since I’ve been dealing with something I figured I’d hand it over along with the one shot hopefully in a few hours lol.

Here is the Masterlist for a refresh!

Check out our Patreon for early access and 190+ exclusive writings

Warnings- a/o/b dynamics, alpha Harry, royalty etc

——

Harry had taken that permission and ran with it.

Y/N had been slowly adjusting to calling him Harry in the safety of his chambers, and Harry had taken to clasping their hands together in the privacy of the rides to and from events. Y/N had nearly choked the first time, but she had warmed up to it nicely now.

“Harry..” she warned as they pulled from the curb, keeping her hand hidden in her skirts. “You must wait until we are properly on the road. If people see-“

“I know, I know. You worry too much, darling.” He grabbed her cool, smaller hand, greedy for the touches as they got into the busier part. “I like the color today.” His eyes examined the mint green varnish on her nails. She had told him that the maids do them sometimes after hours in the courtyards, sharing bottles since it was easier that way. He had liked the lavender last week, but the mint green was winning his favor.

“Thank you.” She smiled lightly, looking at their joined hands. It was odd to see. His decked in jewels and scars and hers lithe and small compared to his own. The compliments the prince so freely gave tended catch her off guard a lot of the time. Never had a man been so open and blunt with her about the things he liked. To be fair, she didn’t have a lot of male friends or… whatever this sort of relationship was with the man… but he was by far the most open with her that she had ever experienced.

“It’s only the truth.” His hand brought hers up to his lips to kiss the back of her knuckles, smirking to himself at the tiny shiver she gave him. Y/N had a hard shell to crack, she was terrified in some ways about people seeing their affections and her getting into trouble, but he had helped ease her nerves the more he did it. The privacy was something he cherished, looking forward to retiring to his chambers at night because it meant Y/N would sit with him as they discussed or read books. He hated when he got tired quickly and she would leave once he was settled in bed, wishing he could convince her to crawl under the warm blankets with him and curl into his side as he always wanted. He had many dreams for their connection and, admittedly, never imagined it would be this hard. He usually had people falling at his feet, flaunting their necks and propositioning him to fall into bed. Y/N was the exact opposite. Surprisingly, it was one of the things he liked the most about her.

It wasn’t easy to gain her trust, but it would make the reward so much sweeter. Just like how his heart beat hard in his chest each time she would squeeze their hands together, or he felt her shiver when he brushed his thumb over the back of her own.

Baby steps.

Their connection was undeniable, even for her. She shivered and blushed and found herself gravitating closer towards him every single day, something that baffled her. Her body had a mind of its own, leaning into his touches and having a very hard time letting go when he initiated the touching. Like right now. He had just spent time shopping and Y/N had stayed dutifully by his side, quiet but alert. Taking in their surroundings and making sure she wasn’t too close to his side despite the lack of perception the Prince had for personal space when it came to her. It was up to her to keep it in line.

He had only talked to her, asking her opinion on jewels and colors and fabrics, ignoring a lot of the people there meant to be the experts. She gave her honest one now, knowing now that Harry would much rather get the truth from her than a lie. A sickly green had been something she had vetoed along with a tacky embossed goose pattern that she didn’t think suited him- a rarity considering Prince Harry was the type to make quite literally anything work in his favor. His beauty was something even Y/N found to be intimidating.

“Thank you for coming with me today.” His voice snapped her out of her trance, eyes lifting from their joined hands back up to his eyes. Harry preferred eye contact with her when they were alone. “Shopping can be rather boring when people are just telling you to get everything, that everything looks good just because you’re royalty, you have the money, all of that. A truthful person is hard to come by.”

Even with all the money in the world, the most valuable thing to have is an honest person. Y/N had been nothing but truthful to him and he valued her opinion more than most already. The sweet little thing had her way under his skin without even trying. He’d been going slow and learning with her, doing his best to not spook her. He could scent her arousal at times though he pretended he didn’t. She was someone he wanted to keep around. As much as he wanted to be inside of her, he wanted her to have a clear head and no regrets when he did it.

“Of course.” She replied quietly, squeezing his hand back. “I don’t think it serves a purpose for me to lie. You won’t punish me for inserting my opinion so I don’t mind giving it.” Other staff had been in the past, but Harry didn’t seem like the other royals. That’s not to say she disliked or even resented the king and queen- they didn’t know her. They knew her mother and had been generous enough to keep her healthcare open while she wasn’t working, even if it didn’t cover everything it needed. But the prince? He was kind to her. Caring. On a personal level, he felt connected to her.

“Never. I told you, I chose you to keep around. I’d like for us to be close. No use in trying that if you aren’t comfortable telling me a fabric color is atrocious.” He joked, a tingle lighting up his chest when he saw her lips curl into a small smile.

“It was quite bad, wasn’t it?” She wrinkled her nose, shaking her head at the image of the color back in her head. “Don’t know who could pull off that sort of color. You have the ability to make anything look lovely but… even you, I don’t think couldn’t make it happen.”

The compliments from Y/N weren’t very plentiful and he understood why. She still had a bit of a mental blockage with boundaries that didn’t exist, but Harry didn’t mind. This compliment from her had him worked up, ego stroked and chest puffed. She thought he could make anything look lovely?

“Truly?” He asked. “You think I make things look lovely?” The preening was visible, making Y/N wonder why she hadn’t complimented him much before. The actual happiness on his face was like watching sunbeams melt snow. Of course he got thousands of compliments during his week, but none of them seemed to make his heart sing as much as hers did. Maybe it was the genuine nature, how she almost looked like she hadn’t meant to say it out loud- or maybe it was just her. The rarity of it all.

“Of course.” She replied, cheeks burning. It shouldn’t feel so humiliating to tell the truth, but his gaze was always going to slightly intimidate her. “You’re incredibly handsome. I’m sure you know this, Harry.”

Hearing her say his name and another compliment made him feel like he could burst. “I’m told all the time, sure. But you’re saying it because you mean it and think it. Not just because you think it's the proper thing to do or because you want something.” He replied. “It’s… nice to hear you think highly of me, is all. Sometimes I think all I do is annoy you.”

Y/N realized now that perhaps she had been a bit unknowingly cruel. She hadn’t meant to make him think she didn’t think highly of him at all, surely never meaning to make him think he was annoying. She was blown away by how beautiful he was at times, but it never felt appropriate to share that. He intimidated her even still. Coming to get to know him a bit, it was obvious he really wanted to be her friend, though, and she was curious why with all of the reassurance he had given her why she hadn’t been able to act more accordingly.

“I apologize. Of course I think highly of you. I’m still getting used to the idea of us being friends and more than just your servant but… I never think it appropriate to share those thoughts.” She swallowed nervously, meeting his eyes again. “You are incredibly handsome and kind. You’ve never once annoyed me or made me upset. I like your singing voice when you think I can’t hear, and I like that you treat me as an equal. I apologize again, for making you even think I don’t think the absolute highest of you.”

While she’s had her nerves about breaching those boundaries, it wasn’t ever truly about him as an individual. It had to do with the establishment and the things that could happen if she was caught treating him as an equal. He could do whatever he wanted, but Y/N was supposed to follow a group of strict guidelines. Things Harry said were thrown away but she hadn’t trusted him enough until now. She hasn’t been given a reason to think after all these weeks.

She wasn’t an idiot. She knew Harry was attracted to her.

Why?

That remained to be a mystery as he had been given the entire kingdom and surrounding to choose from, but chose to spend his time with her. There was no time to even sneak out to see other omegas because there were no more hours in the day. It would take her a bit more time to allow that sort of thing to even be broached, though. This pace was good.

[liminalmemories21]

Ficlet (911 - Buck/Tommy)

Inspired by this thirst trap

(and @cecilyv said this was sufficient unto itself and didn't need to go further)

He's three hours into a 48 when he gets the first one.

He's used to a string of texts, voice messages, videos from Evan when he gets back to base and has time to check his phone.  Doesn't think twice about clicking on this one.  Stares at it open mouthed, and then hits play again immediately.

Lucy peers over his shoulder and gives a low whistle.  "Damn."

From across the break room Garvey calls out.  "Share with the class."  When Tommy flips him off he adds.  "It's your duty."

He looks up at that.  "It's my duty to share the thirst traps my boyfriend sends me?"

Knows it was a mistake when Garvey gets up and comes over to lean against the back of the couch to try and see his phone.  He twists his head.  "Didn't know you played for this team, Garvey."

Garvey shoves at his shoulder.  "I don't, but I'm bored, and I wanna see what's making Donato's eyes bug out."  And, well, as thirst traps go it's ... well he's not sure what it is, but it's not showing anything Garvey couldn't see if he showed up at the 118 gym, so...  He hits play.

It is, technically speaking, a thirst trap.  Evan is shirtless, just wearing thin well worn sweatpants - and, Tommy suspects from how low they hang, nothing else.  Acres of skin and tattoos on display.  He's also vacuuming.  Garvey blinks at him when the video ends.  Finally says, in a faintly shocked tone.  "Kinky."

Tommy has to laugh.  Doesn't think much of it.  Except, there's another one waiting for him when he gets back to base.  This time Evan's folding a fitted sheet.  Tommy recognizes it as one of his, and then recognizes the edge of his couch behind Evan, and realizes he's used the key Tommy gave him a few months ago to go and do his laundry.  To be fair Evan'd had an equal hand in getting those sheets dirty, but still the thought of getting to go home at the end of his 48 to clean sheets, and clean towels, and neatly folded laundry, and, knowing Evan, a fridge full of neatly portioned food is ... it makes something warm curl and stretch in his heart, like a contented cat.  He doesn't need to be taken care of, he's been on his own for decades.  But, someone who wants to take care for him, that's something he'd been starting to think he'd never get to have.

They come at irregular intervals after that - Evan baking, Evan washing the dishes, Evan setting up coffee - always shirtless, always in those low slung pajama pants that get lower with each video.  If Garvey keeps looking over his shoulder eventually he might see something that'll scar him.  Tommy will enjoy it though. 

Garvey peers at the one of Evan washing dishes, and says dubiously, "And this does it for you?"

It does actually, to an embarrassing degree, but he doesn't actually feel like sharing that particular fact.  Lucy unexpectedly comes to his rescue, elbows Garvey sharply.  "Nothing is hotter than a man who does housework."

Garvey looks skeptical.  "Yeah, you think Carol would think it's hot if I did the dishes just wearing my boxers?"

Lucy and Marcus both snort.  Marcus slaps Garvey on the back.  "Garvey, you do the dishes without being asked and Carol's gonna call me and ask if you had a head injury recently she doesn't know about."  Which is rude, but fair.

He texts Evan / you're getting quite a following over here / .... / you might have to start an OnlyFans page /

/ Only fan I'm interested in is you / is the response he gets back instantly

[marigold-hills]

@wolfstarmicrofic | August 25th: win | 1000 words

CW: attempted mugging, mentions of broken bones

Remus Lupin is well aware what he looks like: the wrong side of lanky, with a nasty scar across his face from falling off a bike at five, and a nastier one down his sternum from heart surgery at fifteen. Weak knees, weaker ankles. Breakable wrists. He surrounds himself in soft things, wears sweaters and cardigans even in the summer, when his varied blood deficiencies keep him cold in the heat.

He doesn’t usually go out in the dark. His library desk job keeps his work hours to a respectable 9-to-5, and he’s not one for bars, or clubs, or any other sort of entertainment that would require him to be out in the evening.

Today? Well, there was a book signing at the library. It run late, and he was having a nice chat with the writer, managing to keep his fan-boying to a minimum (it was the James Potter, after all). There was wine, which he doesn’t usually partake in. So: it’s well past his work hours, he’s pleasantly buzzed and on a high from a successful social interaction. Then he sees him.

It’s probably the most beautiful human specimen Remus’ has ever seen. He was stunning in the library, where he accompanied the James Potter for the signing, and he is just as lovely now, in the dim unflattering streetlamps. The hair, the bone structure, the shoulders. Everything about him made Remus decide not to say a single word to him, only gape half-open-mouthed and watch from across the room.

(Doing it now, as he as good as follows him down darkened South London streets, feels roughly stalkerish. Again, Remus knows what he looks like. He’s got too big ears and slightly too big front teeth and definitely too big a nose. He wouldn’t even try to talk to someone like this, not for all the embarrassment in the world.)

Remus is slower, especially with the crutch he has had to use since he broke his ankle a month earlier. His foot is still in the awkward boot-cuff. There should be no way of him catching up, so no chance of an interaction, successful or, more likely, otherwise.

Out of the shadows, appears a figure. Hooded, wide-shouldered, knife-wielding. The beautiful friend of James Potter doesn’t notice until the man is almost on him, knife pointed at the Nirvana logo on his T-shirt.

Remus can’t hear what’s said, but he doesn’t really need to. He’s lived in South London all his life, from Lambeth to Peckham - he’s seen his fair share of muggings.

Something comes over him. Maybe the late hour, maybe the wine. Maybe the impossible wrongness of a man so pretty being in such a situation. Whatever it is, before he even thinks about it, he’s somehow caught up.

Next thing he knows, he’s behind the mugger.

Next thing after that, the heavy, metal leg of his crutch makes heavy, violent contact with the side of the mugger’s head.

He falls to the ground in a heap of limbs and dark fabric and dropped knifes and for a terrible second Remus thinks:

“Fuck. I think I killed him.”

Through the wine-haze or adrenaline-haze, or maybe your-dodgy-heart-finally-gave-in-haze, he realises he said it out loud.

The pretty man leans down and checks the muggers head, then his pulse. “He’s fine. Well. He’s probably concussed. That was a mean hit,” he looks at Remus with something like appreciation in his eyes. “Thank you, Remus. Lucky you were here, or he’d have probably made off with my phone.”

“You know my name?” Remus asks rather dumbly. The answer is obvious and self evident because the man just said it.

“Of course I do. I’ve been watching you all night,” the cheekiest smile Remus has ever seen. The man prods the prone mugger with the tip of his shoe. “Who knew it’d take something like this to actually get you to talk to me.”

“Huh,” Remus says. (He has a degree in literature, he should really be able to string a sentence together with some intelligence, but apparently it has abandoned him.)

“Should probably call an ambulance.”

And that brings Remus out of his stupor. “You’re hurt?” He just stops himself from checking the man over, hands itching to reach out and feel for the damage.

“For this one. Can’t really leave him just lying on the side of the road.”

“Oh. Right, of course.”

“And they’ll probably arrest him, while they’re at it. Win-win.”

“Silver linings.”

The man – Remus doesn’t know his name – laughs at that. It’s oddly dog like and on another person it’d be too much, too loud, but on him? Perfection. Remus wants to ask to record it. Maybe playing it in the evenings will cure his insomnia.

Adrenaline wearing off, Remus realises that his broken ankle hurts way more than it should. More than it has for a while. The same amount as…

“I’ve re-broken my ankle,” he doesn’t mean to blurt out loud. There’s immediate concern in the man’s face. Remus half-sits half-slumps down to the pavement. “Yup. I’m pretty sure I’ve re-broken my ankle. Fantastic.”

That’s what he gets for chasing down would-be-muggers down the streets of London. It’s probably some cosmic price to pay for hearing that laugh. It must be delirium: Remus thinks it’s worth it.

There are gentle hands on the side of his face, guiding it upward, and gentle eyes full on sincerity. “Thank you for helping me,” the man says again, “let’s get you to the hospital, alright?”

Through the pain-haze or wine-buzz-haze or maybe you-just-assaulted-someone-haze, Remus becomes shameless. “Will you stay with me?”

“As long as you’ll have me,” the man says and the way he looks at Remus? Like he doesn’t have too-big ears and too-big a nose, or the scar, or the hair he can never get to behave.

Remus, more than shameless: “forever, then.”

The laugh he gets in return is somehow even better. There is nothing mocking about it. Instead, agreeable. “Alright. Forever.”

NOTES:

does this count as a meet-cute?

[skellseerwriting]

Pirates and Prejudice (and Dragons)

James Hook x GN! Dragon Rider!Reader Pt.2

Part 1

Reader is disabled (prosthetic foot) and I myself am not disabled. If anyone who’s reading this is, please let me know if anything seems weird or negative.

Word Count: 1,390

Warnings: Mentions of bullying from VKs, readers hair is described as being in a ponytail, Hook bullying Bridget, reader worries about perceived ableism targeted towards them, Hook gets embarrassed

Summary: Hook and his friends bully you due to thinking you’re ableist. After an encounter with Hook, he starts picking on Bridget. What do you do to help her?(what you do is actually pretty funny imo)

The next few weeks after the misunderstanding weren’t much better than the actual incident itself. The next day, the blue-haired one named ‘Hades’ tried catching your jacket hem ablaze (it didn’t really work, since your leather riding gear was made to be very durable against dragon flames). Considering that fire seemed to be his only skillset, he just resorted to verbal attacks after that. Maleficent -the one with horns- was much the same, jinxing you with some sort of clumsiness curse. She took it back only a couple classes later when you accidentally spilled an unfinished potion on her; staining her clothes. The other boy in the group was Morgie, who unlike the first two, didn’t have an affinity for magic (or just didn’t use it). His actions were more that of a normal bully, pushing your books and school supplies out of your hands along with the name calling the rest of his friends did. None of that bothered you too much, but the cruelest of the group did. Using magical, retractable tentacles, Uliana loved tripping you and seeing you land face first on the stone tiles. In class, she would sneak a slimy appendage to tie your laces together and steal your ingredients and supplies right off your desk.

But despite all the trouble they brought you, none of it compared to James Hook. Charming, dashing, irritating Hook. Most of what he did wasn’t any different, really. He called you ‘Scarface’ like the rest and did his fair share of trying to trip you up physically and emotionally (Although a couple times he did get up in your face and threaten you with his hook, saying that he’d “add more scars to your scarface”). No, it bothered you infinitely more because he thought you romanticized prosthetics when you told him his pirate hook made you want a peg leg. It was ironic, really, since in actuality you had a foot prosthetic. And you may be thinking: Why didn’t you just tell him that? Well, you tried, but him and his friends would talk over you whenever you did, so you gave up on that rather quickly. Due to their behavior and what they thought of you, you concluded that the truth wouldn’t change much; they were villains after all. But a small part of your mind said otherwise. It told you that since they didn’t act differently towards Hook because of his hand, that they were welcoming of disabilities.

But that didn’t mean they would suddenly be welcoming towards you.

Letting out a sigh, you made your way to the courtyard to read. It was the most peaceful part of the day for you. When the sun was high and the breeze streamed through the archways in the stone walls, you could pretend you were flying Beastie; you’ve barely been able to do that anymore since school started.

Hearing some familiar footsteps appear behind you, you slowed your pace to better hide your limp. As the sounds got closer, you just hoped he would pass by you.

That, however, did not happen. There was a sharp tug at the base of your neck where your hair was tied. In an instant, your body was yanked backwards and collided with something firm. A hand flew around your waist to seemingly steady you while warmth seeped into your back.

Your eyes flutter closed. Huh. This is nice.

The moment was over as quick as it began with your body being shoved away. Nearly tumbling as you turned around, you came face to face with a red-faced Hook. That definitely wasn’t what he wanted to happen. His attempt at catching your hair with his hook had unfortunately (or fortunately?) misfired.

You were tempted to tease him with a ‘If you wanted to hold me you just had to ask’, but before the words could even form, he stormed right past you like he accidentally left his stove on; cloak billowing behind him.

Was he attractive? Yes. Was he annoying? Also yes. Could those two traits coexist? Definitely.

But alas, he had his prejudices against you, and telling the truth wasn’t a guarantee to fix those. Still, you mused over the idea; perhaps you should try after all. At least then you wouldn’t have to feel guilty at finding your tormentor handsome.

Sitting down by the fountain you opened your book and pointedly tried to ignore the young pirate who wasn’t too far away. It was honestly a little infuriating; how quick he jumped to conclusions. What would have happened if your words hadn’t been misunderstood? Would he have been nice? Maybe even want to be friends? Or perhaps even-

No, no. You shook off the thought. No point in daydreaming in something that was impossible. For now.

You tried so hard to focus on your book. You really did, and it was a really good one to, but something about Hook being in your peripheral vision made it impossible to focus on anything else. He was just standing there, leaning against the wall. Almost like he was waiting for someone.

Well, someone -whether that was who he was waiting for or not- passed by with her pink hair bouncing up and down with each step she took. Hook waisted no time in blocking her path.

Poor Bridget. She smiled and tried to side-step him, but he mirrored her. She moved the other way and he did it again. Finally, she let out an “excuse me” and brought her hands forward to try and see if she could get him to step back. Instead, Hook snatched a hand of hers and brought his hook dangerously close to her face.

“Now where do you think yer going, lass?” He asked her, voice smooth and suave and filled with threats. Her smile wavered just a bit as she looked at the gleaming sharp metal.

“I’m just trying to meet up with Ella.” She told him, which was likely the actual truth. He turned his hook farther and caressed its side against her cheek.

“Now why hang out with that silly girl when you could hang out with me?” He purred, clearly enjoying her fear. You should do something. You need to do something. Handsome or not, he was tormenting her.

There was no way you could run over in time. You glanced at the book in your hands. The library would never let you in there again if you damaged it. After giving your shoes a thought, you realized they were laced extremely tight -couldn’t risk them falling off while dragon riding… Focus!

Looking back at Hook and Bridget you saw how close the the metal point was to her eye. It was moving closer.

Grasping at straws, you look down again.

Wait.

The gears in your head turned swiftly.

And swiftly, you shoved your pant-leg up.

Swiftly, something flew through the air and clocked James Hook squarely on the side of his pretty head before hitting the floor with a clack.

Swiftly, he whipped around to see what had just hit him.

He sees a leather boot with something grey sticking out of the ankle. He turns to the direction it came from. He sees you. Then, he sees the empty space where your left foot should be.

You can see the whites of his eyes from here. His jaw was practically on the floor, just looking back and forth and back and forth. Bridget used the opportunity to escape his grasp and run away. He didn’t even notice.

Part of you expected him to apologize; he seemed sorry enough now in a certain way. However, he didn’t seem prepared to do that. So, instead, you got up and hopped over to him to grab your foot. He stared at you the whole time, dumbstruck. You made your way back to the fountain edge, strapped it on in lighting speed, grabbed your book and walked away.

Taking a moment to look back, you saw the exact same frozen face of shock. Part of you didn’t want to leave him like this, but he clearly needed some time to think before they even talked about it.

Would he even want to talk about it?

As you exited the courtyard, you let yourself, for the second time that semester, to fully let your limp show.

Part 3

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you enjoyed, if you'd like to know what happens next, and anything writing-wise that'll help immerse you into the story!

[seniaasaysstuff]

Drunk reader gets caught by Toji. Toji fushiguro x fem! reader.

Cute fluffy interactions with toji are all I write at this point.

“Put that down!” Toji ordered with a tired sigh. “Yer even worse than my son,” He muttered as he caught you drinking at 4 am.

You looked as if a deer was caught in the headlights and froze. “Haha, I was checking how much was left,” You nervously chuckled as you lifted up the bottle.

“Doll yer speech is all slurred,” Toji spoke, looking at you incredulously.

“M’not drunk,” You tried to defend yourself. Toji crossed his arms over his chest and quirked a brow.

“Walk in a straight line then,” He ordered. “Whaa that's not fair! I cannot walk straight even when I'm not drunk,” You whined.

“So you're drunk right now?” He gruffed. You furiously nodded then placed a hand on your mouth. Whoops! Toji let out a throaty chuckle. “Gotcha,”

You got up and tried to make a run for it. You stumbled and were about to fall flat on your face when his huge arm grabbed your waist and steadied you.

You turned around and kissed his scar. “Thank you, Mr hulk,” You slurred your words.

Toji shook his head and chuckled, “That'll work. C’mon, let's get you to bed.”

You gave him a dazed smile. “When we cuddle can I be the big spoon?” You exclaimed. Toji didn't respond and carried you to your shared bedroom.

He slammed the door open and threw you on the bed making you gasp loudly. “Yer such a cheeky brat,” He grumbled.

“M’your brat,” You mumbled as you pulled him on the bed. “Yeah yeah,” He grunted as he reluctantly lay beside you on the bed.

You turned towards him and pressed your chest against his back. You wrapped your arms around him and happily sighed. “You're so baby girl,” You smirked as you whispered in his ear.

He groaned and shifted so that he was on top of you. “Yer gonna get it now.” His breath tickled you as he leaned closer to your face.

You giggled, “Really?” He smirked and bit your collarbone. You let out a needy cry.

“I can do better than that,” You whispered as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down.

His body was lying on top of yours as you latched onto his neck and sucked the skin. He let out a short breath as you left lovebites on his neck.

After you were done, you looked at your masterwork proudly. “Hope yer happy with what you've done.” He rasped. You furiously shook your head up and down. “Very, very happy.” You beamed at him.

He hummed and shifted you on top of him. “My naughty doll,” He smiled wickedly, his eyes forming little crescents.

You let out a yawn, your eyes drooping a bit. “G’night toji, love you.” You sleepily whispered and laid your head on his chest falling into a deep slumber.

Toji ran his fingers through your hair, “Love ya too hun.”

[st-eve-barnes]

Servant (Part 2)

(Aemond x fem Reader)

Part 1

Summary: Aemond's absence weighs heavily on you until one night he finally works up the courage to ask you to stay and share a bath with him.

Word count: +3900

Warning: 18+ for explicit content and language. Fingering, sex in the bath tub. Reader and Aemond just taking care of each other and relieving some stress. This turned out a lot softer than I originally planned, so if comfort smut is a thing this is it, with some fluff and mild angst thrown in. There will be one more part after this one! Thank you everyone for the likes/comments/reblogs for part 1. I hope you'll enjoy this one as well ;)

***

All my fics are also on AO3

***

Ever since that night with Aemond it felt like your world was slightly off balance. Even during work you couldn’t seem to keep your focus, you had bumped into more furniture during the past two weeks than you had in the past 12 months. You kept forgetting where you put things and this morning you found yourself cleaning the mirrors in Aemond’s bedroom only to realize you had already cleaned them an hour earlier. 

You were constantly distracted and on edge. And Aemond wasn’t helping. 

To be fair, he wasn’t doing much of anything. Since that night you had only seen him twice and every time he was on his way out when you arrived muttering some excuse about meetings after which he’d be gone all day.

You were beginning to believe whatever happened between you two that night had been nothing but a dream, that it didn’t actually happen except inside your head.

It was that or the prince regretted that night so much he just wanted to pretend it never happened. You weren’t sure which of those options hurt the most. You just needed to put it behind you and get on with your life. You had always loved your job and life outside of work was pretty good too, with or without Aemond. 

But that was before. 

Now being just his maid didn’t feel like enough anymore. You craved him so badly it was starting to impact every aspect of your life, you knew it had to stop but you had no idea how to get him out of your head.

You were pulled from your thoughts when the door opened and Aemond stepped inside. It felt like so long since you’d last seen him that for a moment just the sight of him took your breath away. You needed a few seconds to find your voice.

“Good evening, your grace,” you greeted him politely and continued with your tasks.

“Good evening, Y/N.” His voice was weak and he sighed deeply while taking off his coat. 

“Long day?” you asked.

“Long week,” he answered and he gave you a weak smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He looked absolutely wrecked.

You had assumed he’d been avoiding you but looking at him now you realized you may have been mistaken. You recognized that exhausted look on his face that came with too many official duties and endless boring meetings. Maybe he had actually just been busy and not hiding from you.

The thought filled your heart with joy for a moment but you quickly pushed it down again and focussed on the task at hand.

“My prince, Aegon came around earlier to ask me to prepare a bath for you.”

“Oh, he did?” Aemond’s lips curled up in a tired smile and he seemed surprised by your words.

“Was that not at your request?” you asked.

“No, it was not, my brother is…I did not send him. But thank you, it is most welcome.”

Aemond was going to regret the day he told Aegon about his little crush on you, first the wine and now this, he was obviously meddling where meddling was not wanted. Aemond’s love life had always been pretty much non-existent and his brother Aegon loved to tease him about it ever since they were young. If it were up to him he’d have Aemond bedding whores every day of the week. But Aemond never cared much for sex, or female company for that matter.

When he was younger he may have thought about maybe having a wife some day, but then who would have him now? He was the scarred dark prince and he was very well aware of how most women feared him or looked at him in disgust.

But not you.

Ever since he first met you, you had treated him with so much kindness and warmth. He couldn’t help but start to feel affection for you, no matter how misplaced it was. He told himself over and over again that you were just doing your job and that he shouldn’t get his hopes up for anything more.

But that night by the fire, when you were on your knees for him, you had looked at him with so much admiration and lust it changed something deep inside of him. Suddenly he wanted things he had never wanted or needed before. 

And he had no idea what to do about it.

“Your bath will be ready in ten minutes, your grace.”

Your words pulled him from his thoughts and he nodded. “Thank you, lady Y/N.”

Your eyes met his briefly and he smiled the softest, most grateful smile that made your heart skip a beat.

You were both quiet for a moment, not looking away from each other until Aemond moved and sat down on the edge of his bed.

You left the room to prepare everything and take the last buckets of water from the fireplace to the bath tub. When you were done filling it up you put down robes and essential oils and made sure Aemond had everything he needed.

“Will there be anything else, your grace?” you then asked.

He gave you another tired smile but shook his head,”No, I…um…that will be all, thank you.”

Gods, how many times was he going to thank you tonight? Aemond wanted to kick himself, for someone who had read so many books and knew all the big words he felt completely  illiterate when it came to expressing his feelings towards you. 

Stay. For Gods sake just ask her to stay.

But he said nothing, just gave you a polite nod as you stepped back towards the door.

You watched him move from the bed, a painful expression on his face as he stretched and started unbuttoning his vest.

You had reached the door, all you had to do was open it and walk away. But just like last time your feet refused to go. 

All you wanted was to stay. Why didn’t he ask you to stay with him? You had seen it in his eye, that soft longing gaze, you couldn’t have imagined that.

You hesitated and then without thinking blurted out your next words,“Do you need my help?”

Aemond looked up in surprise and for a moment you regretted everything, but then his lips curled up into a sweet smile and this time you could actually see it reaching his eye.

“Your help?” he asked,”To undress me?”

The teasing tone was back in his voice and you bit your lip”I…I don’t mean to overstep, your grace.”

“Aemond,” he reminded you.

“Aemond,” you repeated and you avoided his eye, waiting for his response.

His voice was soft when he spoke again,”Come here.”

You stepped forward until you were standing right in front of him, still too nervous to look him in the eye.

Aemond lifted your chin with his finger, forcing you to look at him. When you met with his intense lustful gaze you were right back to that night, willing to drop down on your knees and do anything for him.

But you sensed that was not what he needed right now.

He held your eyes and whispered,”Yes…I would very much like your help…if you wouldn’t mind, my lady.”

You stepped closer to him and carefully started unbuttoning his vest, holding eye contact the entire time, you gently pushed it down his shoulders. Then you did the same with his undershirt, taking your time. You grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it out of his pants. You didn’t hesitate to touch him as you went along, fingers brushing against the skin of his abdomen and chest.

Aemond sighed into it, a little blush forming on his cheeks. 

Neither of you said a word when you started fumbling with the opening of his trousers, you slowly loosened them up until you could pull them down his legs, leaving him in nothing but his underpants. You hesitated when your eyes caught sight of the prominent bulge right under your hands and you froze.

“Did I say you could stop?” Aemond’s voice pulled you back into the moment.

He was still teasing but there was a tiredness in his voice that made your heart ache even more for him.

Your gently placed your hands back on his stomach, caressing his warm skin and Aemond let out a shaky breath. You moved your hands lower, down to his happy trail, you avoided his half hard cock as you slowly pulled his undergarments down, leaving him completely naked in front of you. 

When you stood back up his gaze was dark but soft and he leaned in close until you could feel his breath against your cheek. “Stay,” he pleaded softly.

You bit your lip,”I…”

“Please. Bathe with me,” Aemond pressed his forehead against yours and gently cupped your face, brushing your cheek with his thumb,”Let me take off your clothes and bathe with me.”

Your brain seemed to stop functioning in that moment, all you managed was a small nod, but it told him everything he needed to know.

He didn’t waste any time, his hand moved from your cheek down to your neck, untying your apron and pulling it off of you. He spun you around to unlace the back of your dress. The delicate soft way his hands were touching you made your legs weak and you had to bite your lip to keep from moaning into it. He took his time, just as you did before, as if he was unwrapping a precious gift.

When you were down to your underdress he sank down on his knees in front of you, never leaving your eyes. His hands trailed up from your ankles to your knees and then your thighs, taking the dress with him on his way up and lifting it over your head. 

You were naked but still his eye was only on your face, holding your eyes while a soft smile spread on his lips.

He was so beautiful and you realized right then and there how utterly and completely crazy you were about him. There was no way you would ever manage to get him out of your head, and frankly you didn’t event want to try anymore.

Aemond stepped into the bath and then reached out his hand to you, helping you to get in.

You wanted to take a seat opposite him but Aemond’s hand didn’t let go of yours.

“No,” he shook his head,”Here. Close to me.”

He sat down and helped you to sit in between his legs, your back against his chest. He used his big hands to get water all over your back and your arms, caressing your skin softly as he went along. His touch was like fire and your entire body was burning for him, you prayed he would never take his hands off you.

As if he had read your mind he started slowly massaging your back. You closed your eyes and let out a long satisfied sigh.

“Is this okay?” he asked softly.

“Yes,” you breathed,”Gods, yes, Aemond.”

He smiled, relieved at your words and encouraged to continue, he moved them up to your neck and your shoulders, feeling the tension you’d been bottling up.

“You feel tense, my lady,” he noticed.

You sighed,”Yes, I…I guess I have been.”

Aemond picked up on the sadness in your voice and he leaned forward, putting a soft, lingering kiss on the back of your head.

“Let me remove everything that hurts, ñuha riña,” he whispered. My lady.

You melted. 

He continued massaging your neck, putting a little more pressure there than before until he felt your tension seeping away and you relaxed completely under his touch.

“Will you let me wash your hair?” he then asked in a whisper.

“I’ll let you do anything you want,” you breathed out without thinking and instantly bit your lip.

Aemond smirked at your statement. “Hmm, good to know.” 

He reached out to the small table next to the tub to grab one of the oils and poured some of it into his hands before putting it on your hair. His fingers softly massaging your scalp and you couldn’t remember the last time you had felt this relaxed. Or this turned on.

Aemond took his time washing and rinsing your hair and when he was done he wrapped both arms around your waist and pulled you close, his head resting on your shoulder. You wanted to die in this moment.

 Your hands moved over his and you laced your fingers together.

“Tell me what else you need,” he breathed and placed a few soft kisses in your neck.

You were struggling to form a coherent thought, mumbling pieces of words that didn’t make any sense. Aemond smiled affectionately.

“Show me,” he then breathed into your ear.

Your hands were still covering his and you guided him to your breasts. He didn’t need anymore guidance once there, massaging them softly and letting his thumbs play with your nipples while he continued to kiss your neck. No more chaste kisses this time, he licked your skin and sucked just hard enough to bruise. Your whole body was starting to tremble with need.

You moved his other hand down over your stomach and in between your legs. “Touch me,” you begged,”Please, touch me.”

He didn’t let you beg for long, his fingers brushing over your clit, making perfect slow circles while his other hand kept massaging your breast.

You had ached for this for so long now that it was happening it was almost overwhelming. You were embarrassingly close to falling apart already.

Aemond smirked against your skin, relishing in the way your body reacted and surrendered to him.

He moved his fingers over your folds, teasing your entrance while keeping his thumb pressed on your clit.

“Tell me what else you need, ñuha riña” he teased you, gently biting your earlobe,”Use your words.”

You moaned softly, biting your lip and trying to stop yourself from grinding into his hand,”I want your fingers…inside of me.”

Aemond moved his hand from your breast up to your neck, making you gasp when he grabbed your throat and simultaneously pumped two fingers deep inside your wet heat.

“Like this? Does that feel good, my sweet girl?” he growled into your ear while pumping his fingers in and out of you, thumb rubbing your clit and his hand putting pressure on your throat, trying to keep you still and close to him.

All you could do was whimper and push back on his fingers, your orgasm quickly building.

“Yes,” you breathed heavily,”Yes…”

“You look so beautiful like this,” Aemond whispered into your ear,”So tight and so wet…Seven hells….I can’t wait to fuck you properly.”

That did it, your eyes rolled back in ecstasy and you clenched and clenched around his fingers until you were completely spent, your body collapsing against him. Aemond released his grip on your neck and pulled you into his embrace again.

For a few minutes you just laid with him, your heartbeat steadying and your breathing slowing down as Aemond softly caressed your hair, letting you come down from your high.

“Was that to your satisfaction, my lady?” he then asked, a little smirk on his face.

“Yes,” you breathed into a smile and moved out of his arms to turn around in the bath tub, finally facing him.

His face was completely flustered, his eye hooded with lust and as he was licking his lips you realized you hadn't felt his mouth on yours yet. Suddenly his lips was all you could think about.

But you had other plans for him first.

Your hand gently cupped his face, letting your fingers brush over his eye patch, slowly, while looking into his other eye.

“May I?” you asked softly.

You noticed the nervous twitch of his lips but he nodded. You carefully removed the patch from his face, revealing the sapphire eye underneath. You had seen the prince without his eye patch before, but never up close, and he was always quick to cover it up when he noticed you were in the room.

You couldn’t look away and Aemond sighed deeply, breaking eye contact.

You let your thumb caress his scars and you leaned forward, gently pressing your forehead against his.”You’re beautiful, my prince, every inch of you is beautiful.”

He softly whimpered at your words and leaned into you. You placed sweet lingering kisses all over his scars while Aemond’s hands caressed your back, nails scratching at your skin as he slowly pulled you closer and closer to him. His breath was warm and heavy on your cheek, his lips inching closer and closer to yours.

It took every last bit of your willpower to stop him and lean back.

You reached for the oils next to the bath tub and poured some of it in your hands while you carefully straddled him. His cock was hard and pressing against your inner thigh but you would have to ignore that for now.

“It’s only fair,” you smiled at him and he returned it with a soft, sweet smile of his own, making your heart swell up with affection for him.

“Lean forward,” you ordered him. 

He obeyed immediately, letting you put the oils all over his hair. You spread it over his long blonde locks and then gently massaged his scalp. Aemond sighed into your touch, his hands softly resting on your hips as you continued washing his hair. You were working deliberately slowly, feeling Aemond’s cock twitch against your thigh from time to time, his breathing  speeding up, growing more needy with every touch of your hands.

You rinsed his long hair thoroughly and when you were done you pushed it back over his head, eyes meeting his again and he cupped your chin, brushing his thumb over your lip before he spoke softly,”Come closer to me. I need to feel you, all of you.”

You did as he asked, placing your hands on his chest while you straddled him.

Aemond nuzzled your cheek and whispered hot in your ear.”Come sit on my cock and ride me.”

The hunger in his tone was undeniable and it awakened the fire in you instantly. Your hand moved in between his legs, slowly wrapping around his length and pumping him a few times before guiding him to your heat. Aemond’s head fell back in a blissful grunt at your touch. You teased him some more, dragging the head of his cock over your folds, from your clit down to your entrance and back up again.

You were moaning softly at the sensation and Aemond joined you, his hands gripping harder at your waist, fingers digging into your skin.

“Take me,” he moaned into your mouth,”Please…take all of me, ñuha riña.”

You couldn’t hold back any longer and you slowly sank down on his throbbing length, knocking the air out of both of you for a moment.

“Fuck,” you breathed,”You’re so big.”

Aemond laughed against your neck,”There is no need for flattery right now, my lady.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as well and you carefully tried to take him in all the way. Aemond watched you struggle and grabbed your chin again, looking deep into your eyes.

“Slowly, my sweet girl,” he whispered,”We don’t have to rush.”

The lustful heated gaze on his face told you differently but he kept his hips still, leaving you in control. His hands caressed your back and tangled into your hair, holding you close to him while he started kissing your neck again, open mouthed wet kisses that had you melting in his arms while your body got used to the feel of having him so deep inside of you.

You had never felt so full in your life and the initial painful sting quickly changed into bliss. You slowly started to rock against him, feeling the delicious stretch his cock offered you.

“Aemond,” you whimpered.

“Hmmm?”

“Move.”

He obeyed immediately, lifting his hips to slowly fuck into you. 

Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him as close as you possible could. Aemond’s face was buried into your neck, his breath and moans hot on your skin while his hands sank down to grab your ass.

You wanted to cry with how good it felt to have him like this, your bodies completely intertwined, clinging to each other as if you were made for him and he was made for you, a perfect fit. Aemond quickly found a satisfying rhythm that left you both lost in the other.

“Aemond, I’m close,” you breathed into his ear after a while,”I’m so close.”

His hands moved up to hold your neck, bringing your face close to his,”Look at me, Y/N.”

The use of your name in this moment somehow felt so intimate and when you met his soft gaze your heart soared. 

Gods, you loved him. It was stupid and way too fast and you knew it couldn’t lead to anything good but you loved him all the same.

Aemond couldn’t take his eye off you, his hands kept caressing your hair and your face as he slowly fucked you closer to your climax.

He wanted to cum so badly but he also never wanted this moment to end. He had never enjoyed sex all that much before but this was not sex, it felt like coming home every time he buried himself deep inside your heat.

He was safe here, and wanted, and loved. 

It was stupid, he knew that. He barely knew you and you two came from totally different worlds, yet right now he could not imagine his world without you.

“Aemond,” you softly moaned against his lips, letting your hands run through his long hair and leaning your face against his. The look in your eyes so hungry it only made him need you more.

“Kiss me,” he breathed,”Please kiss me.”

Your lips found his in a soft but heated kiss, you sighed happily at finally feeling his soft lips on yours. His tongue licked into your mouth, finding yours, kissing you so deep and so slow, as if he wanted to savor every inch of you. When he moaned into your mouth you soared to new heights.

Your orgasm was building, your walls started to clench around him, there was no slowing it down.

Aemond started fucking you faster, harder, still continuing to kiss you through your moans, neither of you wanting to come up for air but both unable to stall it for much longer. You were falling, seeing stars and you had to stop yourself from screaming out his name for the whole castle to hear when you finally came.

Aemond’s moans grew louder and louder and he bit down on your shoulder when he finally released inside of you.

When it was over he held you in his arms and you clung to him. You never wanted to let him go again and suddenly tears filled your eyes, caused by both the impact of your release and the realization of your feelings for him. Aemond kissed your forehead, whispering soft words of comfort in your ear.

“It’s okay, ñuha riña, I’m here with you,” he sighed deeply,”my sweet beautiful girl, I’m right here.”

There was so much more he wanted to tell you but he couldn’t. Not now, not yet.

He didn’t want to overwhelm you or chase you away so he just held you close to him, biting his tongue and putting another soft lingering kiss to your forehead, hoping to stall the end of this night for as long as he possible could before you would inevitably leave him again.

[peachdues]

THE DIVINING ROD

OBANAI'S TELL ME TO STOP

A/N: I’m excited to write for our favorite Serpent boy, though I’m gonna put him through the ringer.

You may recognize some of this preview as coming from a teaser I posted a bit ago with Sanemi — but I ultimately scrapped that and gave it to Obanai instead. I think the end of this teaser makes it clear why it fits him better.

CW: canon setting AU • Reader is the Vine Pillar • blood • angst • scars • mentions of past torture • panic • this fic will be HELLA NSFW so MDNI

“Take it off,” was all she said, eyes vacant even against the faint glow of the nichirin collar locked around her throat. “Take it off.”

Mitsuri’s attempts at comforting the newly freed Pillar faltered as her hands fluttered about the sides, seeking for some release, some latch that would remove the last of the Upper Moon’s bonds from her.

The Love Hashira began to sweat as she found nothing to grip, nothing to chisel to tug that would oblige her friend’s request.

Mitsuri Kanroji had seen her fair share of inuries caused by demons. She was no stranger to bloodied lacerations or the sight of organs, half-chewed and smeared across the ground like some mocking attempt at art, only made from human gore.

But she was utterly out of her element as she looked upon her fellow Pillar — her friend — and saw, for the first time, the extent of her suffering.

The Vine Pillar’s skin was painted in bruises in various hues ranging from yellow to a deep purple-black. Blood had crusted upon her skin in some places and still oozed from open wounds in others. Her nails were caked with grime and cracked, their edges ragged and bloodied from what could only be a desperate attempt to free herself by clawing at her binds.

“Take it off.”

“I’m trying, Y/N, I promise,”

“Take it off,” the Vine Pillar repeated, though her tone had evolved from the detached blandness she’d had upon her rescue to something more frantic; desperate. “Take it off. Take it off. Take it off!”

Mitsuri’s own desperation was beginning to boil into panic as she tugged uselessly at the thick ice collar locked around the Pillar’s neck. She swiveled back to Rengoku, the Flame Pillar looking just as helpless as she felt.

“Where is Iguro?” She flung out, as the Vine Pillar’s own battered hands batted the Love Pillar’s away and began to claw at the thick ice-metal of the collar around her neck. “He needs to be here. He needs to keep her calm.”

Rengoku hesitated. “I believe he is still back there — taking care of the demon.”

Mitsuri wasn’t sure whether she wanted to know the details of how the Serpent Pillar was taking care of the demon who had captured and tortured the woman he loved. But if the storminess in his eyes as he’d beheld the trembling, nearly naked form of the Vine Pillar had been any indicator, Mitsuri knew that the demon would surely beg for the swiftness of death.

——-

“Take it off, take it off, take it off!” Her screams were unbearable as the Vine Pillar’s frantic pleas devolved into full, shuddering sobs, her fingers weakly curling against the metal of the collar as she tugged and clawed. A jagged end of her nail caught the marred skin of her throat and drew blood, but she did not seem to notice; not as her trembling legs collapsed beneath her and Y/N curled into herself on the ground, repeated scream-shouts of take it off quieting to pitiful, quiet cries.

Mitsuri had never felt herself more at a loss than she did at that moment; nor, apparently, had Rengoku as they both stared sadly at their comrade.

Rengoku was the first to cautiously approach the Vine Pillar where she’d dropped, unfastening the cloak cape around his shoulders to drape around Y/N’s battered and bloodied half-nude form.

He crouched down low next to the Pillar, his hand hovering uncertainly over the middle of her back, wavering between wanting to comfort her and not knowing whether she could tolerate being touched.

The Flame Pillar’s internal strife, however, was ended as the Serpent Hashira returned, his eyes fixed resolutely upon Y/N, bent over her knees as she heaved dry, broken sobs upon the ground.

Obanai knelt before the woman he loved, his hand stretching out towards her before faltering mid-air, as though he’d thought the better of it.

“Y/N,” the Serpent Pillar said hoarsely. “Y/N.”

Shakily, the Vine Pillar’s head rose to meet Obanai’s fathomless stare, her eyes narrowing in some vague recognition of who sat before her, though she said nothing.

“It’s me, Y/N.”

The Vine Hashira’s eyes remained flat as she brokenly whispered, “Take it off.”

“I will, Y/N. I swear it,” Obanai’s hands trembled ever so slightly as they extended towards the metal locked around her neck. “Just hold on a little longer.”

—————

“Who are you?”

The horror on Rengoku’s face surely mirrored Mitsuri’s own as the two pillars looked to the Serpent Hashira as he blanched.

“It’s me, Y/N,” he whispered, hands hesitating as they twitched towards her until he thought the better of it. His voice quieted ever more. “It’s Obanai. Your Obanai.”

—-

With a deep breath, Obanai reached up and yanked the cloth facial bandage from his face, exposing, finally, the jagged, curved lines carved into either side of his mouth. There, before the Vine Pillar, Obanai bore the sins of his clan for her to see.

Y/N only blinked. “You have scars,” her eyes fell to her bare hands, folded in her lap, and then ran them over the newly smoothed expanses of her forearms.

Her voice was bland, monotonous, even as her eyebrows pinched slightly together. “But he took mine away — with that damn blood demon art.”

She looked back to the wide-eyed Serpent Pillar, pleading. “Why did he take them, Obanai?” Her nails dug into the now unblemished-skin of her arms. “They were mine — I want them back.”

She surged forward, gripping his hand tightly in hers, her eyes desperate even as they began to cloud over with her tears.

“Make him give them back,” she whispered. “I want them back — I want myself back.”

Obanai swallowed hard. “I wish I could, Y/N,” his fingers trembled in her grasp. “But I killed him when we freed you.”

“Then I am lost.” Y/N whispered, her eyes fluttering shut and a stray tear escaping down her cheek.

It took everything the Serpent Hashira had not to lift a hand to wipe the salt water as it slipped down her face. “Why do you think so, Y/N? Is it not enough that I — that we — found you?”

She shook her head. “My scars were me; they told my story,” she opened her eyes to look bitterly upon Obanai’s exposed face, one she’d so desperately longed to see before, when she’d been her and they’d been them. “I hoped they would chart the way back to remembering what you meant to me.”

Y/N pulled her hand free of his, tucking it back under the blanket of her infirmary bed. That cold, distant mask slipped back over her face, turning the Pillar before Obanai into a stranger once more.

“But they are gone now, and so are you.”

[cynicalrosebud]

Rumor Has It (2)

Part 1 Part 3

Hey folks! Welcome back to another installment of Rumor Has It. Before we start, reminder that this is a poly!141 x oc(ish) reader fic. There is sex, swearing, and violence, so MDNI. Sorry kiddos. Anywho, this is based right before CodMWII and takes place in early 2022. The boys are off on some made up mission when they meet Rumor. Warning that I will be heavily modifying the actual timeline for my own amusement. Ok, that’s all for now! -Cyn 🌹

Location: A remote village safehouse, Eastern Europe, just after dusk.

The safehouse was an old, dilapidated cottage nestled deep in the woods, far from prying eyes and enemy patrols. The windows were grimy with age, and the wooden beams creaked under the weight of time, but it was secure and off the grid—perfect for Task Force 141 to regroup and debrief after their latest mission.

Inside, the atmosphere was thick with the lingering tension of battle. The only light came from a single, dim bulb hanging from the ceiling, casting long shadows across the room. The air smelled faintly of damp wood and the sharp tang of gunpowder, remnants of the fight they’d narrowly escaped.

Price was the first to break the silence. He removed his cap and ran a hand through his short, graying hair, the lines on his face deepening with exhaustion. With a heavy sigh, he settled into one of the old wooden chairs at the scarred table in the center of the room. The others followed, each man carrying the weight of the day’s events in their eyes.

“Alright, Rumor,” Price began, his voice a low rumble that commanded attention, even in the quiet of the room. “Time to finally put a face to that cheeky voice. Show yourself.”

For a moment, there was nothing but the hum of the safehouse generator, the silence stretching as the team waited. Then, from the shadows near the far wall, a figure emerged.

Rumor stepped into the light with an easy confidence that belied the tension in the room, helmet removed. He had a good build, with sharp features that seemed to always be on the verge of a smirk. His eyes, piercing, sparkled with a mischievous glint as he took in the sight of Task Force 141 sizing him up.

“Didn’t think you’d be this eager t’ see me again, Captain,” Rumor said, his Welsh accent smooth and lilting, with a hint of playfulness that didn’t quite match the severity of the situation.

Soap raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair with a skeptical grin. The Scot’s accent was thick as he spoke, the words tinged with curiosity and a hint of amusement. “So, this is the infamous Rumor? Thought ye’d be taller, mate.”

Rumor chuckled, shrugging nonchalantly as he let his gaze sweep across the room. “Ah, but isn’t that the beauty of a rumor? They’re always bigger than the truth.”

Ghost, who had been watching Rumor with his usual inscrutable expression, crossed his arms over his broad chest. His voice was low, almost a growl, as he spoke through his balaclava. “You’ve got a lot of answers, haven’t you?”

Rumor’s grin widened, a flash of white teeth in the dim light. “Depends on the question, doesn’t it? Ask the right one, and I might even give you a straight answer, ysbryd.”

Gaz leaned forward, his curiosity getting the better of him. The youngest of the group, his London accent gave his words a quick, clipped edge. “How d’you know Price? You sound like you two go way back.”

Rumor glanced at Price, and for a moment, something passed between them—an unspoken history, perhaps. “We’ve had our fair share of adventures,” Rumor replied, his tone light but with an undercurrent of something deeper. “Back in the day, he was my superior. We didn’t always see eye t’ eye, though. I liked t’… color outside the lines.”

Price let out a low grunt, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “That’s puttin’ it lightly,” he said, his accent softened but still carrying the weight of authority. “Rumor here was always more interested in breakin’ the rules than followin’ ‘em.”

Soap laughed, nudging Ghost with his elbow, his blue eyes gleaming with mischief. “Sounds like someone I know.”

Ghost shot him a side-eye but didn’t respond, his gaze still fixed on Rumor.

Gaz leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest as he continued to probe. “So why’d you leave the military? Got tired of orders?”

Rumor’s smile faltered for just a moment, a flicker of something almost like regret passing over his features. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by his usual cheeky demeanor. “Something like that. The military’s great for some people, but me? I’m more of a ‘get the job done by any means necessary’ kind of guy. Didn’t always fit within the neat little box they wanted t’ put me in.”

Soap smirked, his rough Scottish brogue filling the room with a teasing lilt. “You’re a loose cannon, then.”

Rumor shrugged again, his grin returning full force. “Cannon, missile, grenade – depends on the day.”

Ghost, still watching him closely, finally nodded, his tone begrudgingly respectful. “And now you’re here, helpin’ us. Why?”

For the first time, Rumor’s expression softened, sincerity creeping into his voice despite the playful glint in his eyes. “Let’s just say I’ve got a bit of a soft spot for the old man.” He nodded towards Price, then added, “Besides, I don’t like the way things are goin’. Figured it’s time t’ put my skills t’ good use.”

Price looked at Rumor with a mix of respect and exasperation, shaking his head slightly. “Still the same stubborn bastard. But I’ll give you this – you’ve always had a knack for gettin’ results.”

Rumor’s grin widened, his confidence shining through. “What can I say? I’m a man of many talents.”

Soap leaned forward, eyes gleaming with a challenge. “Alright then, Mister Talented. How ‘bout ye show us what ye’ve got in the field? See if ye can keep up.”

Rumor laughed, a sound full of genuine amusement. “Oh, you’re on, mate. Just don’t cry when I leave you in the dust.”

Ghost, who had been quietly assessing Rumor’s every move, finally nodded, a hint of approval in his voice. “We’ll see about that.”

Gaz grinned, feeling the tension in the room ease slightly as the banter continued. “Welcome t’ the team, Rumor. Just don’t get too cheeky with us, yeah?”

Rumor winked, his smirk firmly in place. “No promises, mate.”

As the night wore on, the safehouse began to feel less like a place of refuge and more like a gathering of comrades. The shadows still lingered, but they were less oppressive, softened by the growing camaraderie between the men.

But despite the laughter and the teasing, there was still a sense of uncertainty in the air. Rumor was a wildcard, a man who played by his own rules. The rest of Task Force 141 couldn’t quite figure him out, and that made him both an asset and a potential threat.

As they settled in for the night, each man carried his own thoughts about their new ally. Rumor had proven himself useful, even invaluable, during the mission. But trust was earned, not given, and the team would be watching him closely.

For now, though, they were all on the same side, fighting the same fight.