#i still want to do fic comms too but i need to get back into the swing of writing literally anything | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

the-californicationist · 8 months ago

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That Fire is Repeated

AO3 Link

From an anonymous ask: fic of where instead of Price, it's reader who's been infected with sex pollen?👉👈please and thank u!

Deep in the southern jungles of Urzikstan, Captain Price is sent to help with your extraction. On your way out of the makeshift Konni laboratory, you accidentally step on a trap, and Price volunteers to save your life.

“I can’t hear her comms!” Simon yelled out over the noise of the helicopter, pointing to his headset and giving the thumbs down to Laswell.

She typed something into her datapad and showed it to him, yelling back,

“Dead zone! You’ll have to go in on foot.”

Price adjusted his vest and checked to make sure his gun was fully loaded,

“I’ll go. She’s my recruit, my responsibility.”

“Sure you’ll wanna be the big hero for her, too, huh?” Farah laughed from the cockpit, glancing over her shoulder as Price twisted his face, cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink from his shame.

It was well-known that Price had a terribly strong crush on you. You had accepted his advances, but he was reluctant to take it further, realizing that fraternizing was frowned upon. So, you pined for each other from afar, and the whole base knew about it.

Laswell rolled her eyes at Farah’s comment,

“Should we go back to basics? Captain: don’t subtract from the population,” her eyes narrowed, “Don’t add to the population…”

“Yeah, alright, Kate. Got it. Loud and clear,” Price waved her off, staring out the window and ignoring the obvious ribbing from his colleagues.

“Go get Sparrow and let’s go the fuck home,” Laswell hollered at him, opening the door to the chopper and letting the air whoosh inside.

The wind stung his cheeks, and the tall grass blades spun and twirled like violent dancers as he made his way towards the old, dilapidated lab. You’d been sent to infiltrate secret Konni operations here, disguised as a chemist. Now that the Konni operatives had been dispatched, you secured the intel and were ready for extraction. Price was ready to have you back. These types of ops were so delicate. One wrong move would put you in danger. He was glad the worst of it was over.

As quickly and as carefully as he could, Price made his way inside. It was a little odd that you weren’t outside waiting for the extraction, so his guard was up. In the main lab, he spotted you, standing with your bag and your weapon with your back towards him.

“Little bird?” Price questioned under his breath, moving forward slowly, using the pet name he saved for when you two were alone.

“Hey, Captain. Glad you made it,” you called out to him, your voice tinged with obvious sobbing and stress.

“What is it, Spar? What’s happened?”

He made his way around the lab table and saw you. You were standing stock-still, staring down at your foot. Then, he knew what had made you cry.

Jutting out of your pant leg, a giant syringe was stuck into your calf, empty.

Price leaned down to help you, removing the needle, panicking at the thought of losing you,

“Can you move?”

“When I do… Captain, it’s excruciating.”

“Fuck,” Price tried the comms. But, then he remembered it was a dead zone, and no one was coming to help him. He asked you, “Is it poison? How’d this happen?”

“They call it XLR8. It’s what they’ve been working on. A prototype. I was bending down to grab my bag and this was rigged to hit me. They knew I was a spy.”

“What does it do, this prototype?” You heard his voice quiver at the end of his question.

You blushed, laughing a bit,

“It incapacitates you, first. Removes your inhibitions, next. Then, it causes extreme vasodilation…”

“In the Queen’s bloody English, love. Please…”

“John,” you used his name, looking up into his eyes, “I may ask you to do things to me. Things that I might not usually ask for. And I want you to know that you don’t have to listen to me. I don’t want you to do anything… I don’t want to force you to do… things…”

“Birdie. Tell me what I need to know.”

“When the Konni scientists injected it into mice, they would breed… for hours. They wouldn’t eat, they wouldn’t sleep. One time, a researcher opened the door to the cage, and they didn’t escape. They only bred…” You looked at him in his eyes, making sure he heard you, “But, the mice who were alone in their cages and were given XLR8 got a high fever and died. Every last one of them”

“Are you… “ Price pointed down at your leg, “Do you mean to say that you’ll need someone to…”

You looked down at the ground, steeling yourself for the harsh reality of what was to come,

“When the drugs hit my system, the effects were immediate. Stage one should be almost over now.. You’ll… you’ll know it when you see stage two. But, listen to me, John. I couldn’t live with myself if I forced you to do something that you would regret. Please. I’m sure they’ll think of some other way to help me…”

“Little bird,” he caught your gaze and smiled softly at you, “I’m here for you. I’m not going to let anythin’ happen to you. I won’t lose you to this. I can’t… I care about you too much. I’m going to catch you, and we’re going to get out of here. Just fall forward into my arms, love. I know it hurts. We need to get you to the bloody medic as soon as we can.”

You nodded, and then you did as he commanded. Every movement felt like some sort of hell. You could hear yourself screaming, but it was muffled, your face buried in his chest. You were hanging, limp, against John’s body. You could feel every stinging step he took as it jostled your body. Suddenly, you heard the angry clipping of chopper blades. Then, you passed out.

Sometime later, you awoke, still on the chopper, sitting in the jump seat way in the back. Well, that wasn’t quite accurate. Price was sitting in the jumpseat and you were… straddling his lap.

You were humping him, shamelessly, right in front of Farah, Laswell, Gaz, Soap, and Ghost. The helicopter was full of soldiers, and here you were, uncontrollably rocking your hips against your captain. The others tried to avert their gazes, sitting at awkward angles, trying not to watch, but that somehow made it worse.

You cried out as if you were in pain, and Price held you closer, soothing you with his deep, rumbling voice, speaking to you right in your ear,

“Shh, shh. It’s alright, little bird. I’ve got you. Almost home. Just a few more minutes.”

“John… fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry… I need… oh, God.”

“I know what you need,” he kissed your neck, and he took his hand and shoved it down the front of your pants, giving you something to grind against.

His fingers were strong, and the tips of them were thick, easily pressing through your folds for you, exciting your nerves just the way you liked.

You moaned loudly, unable to stop yourself. When you did, you saw Soap’s head peek around the back of his seat. Then, a gloved, skeletal hand yanked him back around to face the front. If you didn’t die from the XLR8, you’d die from embarrassment afterward, that was certain.

“It’s okay, bird. It’s not your fault. They know that,” he tried to reassure you, but you hid your face in his neck anyway, unable to stop your wanton writhing, soaking his fingers until they slid against you unimpeded.

You felt your hands reach for his belt, digging under his vest and all of his equipment straps. You wanted to spear your body onto his thick cock. You were sure that it would cure you. The fever made you feel too cold and too hot all at the same time. You shivered in his arms, but your brow was dotted with beads of sweat.

He caught your wrist to stop you,

“Just a little while longer, love. Shh, shh, shh. I know…”

You sobbed into his shoulder, ashamed and needy, too weak to fight his grip.

“Hey, look at me,” you obeyed, and he rubbed your cheek, “I’ll take care of you. Don’t worry.”

You shuddered, cresting over a brief, sharp orgasm, coming on him as quietly as you could, biting your cheek so you wouldn’t cry out. For a few seconds, you experienced some sort of relief, but then it was gone, and the overwhelming internal fire raged in your belly once more.

The chopper pitched, landing on the pad at your base, and everyone cleared out of the hull except for Laswell. She looked down at you, pity in her eyes, and then turned to him with concern,

“I’ll send a few supplies to your room. The medic wants to run some tests. How long is this supposed to last?”

John shrugged, petting the sweaty hair out of your face, tucking you in close to him in his arms,

“Not sure. Just trying to get her through it. Take her datapad. It’s got her notes from the lab.”

Laswell took it and stepped down from the chopper, jogging off to the med bay.

“C’mon, love. Let me help you take that fever away, hm?”

You nodded, feeling dizzy and dehydrated, letting him carry you from the helicopter. It seemed like the tight coil in your belly was getting more and more tense by the moment. Your orgasm had been too weak, and it was almost like you hadn’t quite completed the event. You were just stuck in between coming and not coming, waiting for someone to put you out of your misery. What you thought had been relief was really just a prelude to the main event. It was torture.

As you lay your head on his chest, you could smell his aftershave as it mixed with his skin, a comfortingly warm scent with woodsy spices and the faint hint of tobacco from his favorite cigars. You wanted more of it, so you turned your nose into him, running your hands across the belt of his pants, trying to pry your way in..

When he arrived in the barracks, he kicked open the door to a dark room. It smelled just like him. You realized then that you were in his quarters. He lay you on his bed and set to taking off your gear. Your boots and socks slid off, and he unclipped your vest. Then, you felt his fingers on your neck, carefully inspecting your wounds.

“Birdie…” He shook his head, obviously regretful for what you were going through.

You whimpered, looking up at him as you moved your hand down your own pants, rubbing yourself in front of him out of a desperate need,

“John, I don’t know how to ask you this.”

“You don’t have to. Medic’s gonna check you out, and I’ll give you whatever you want, little bird. I promise.”

“I need you, now. I don’t… I can’t… mmmngh...”

“Captain?” A woman’s voice floated into the room from the doorway. Price cracked the door and when he saw it was the medic, he let her in.

She knelt by the bed, and took your hand,

“Hey, Sparrow. I’m just going to check your vitals, okay?”

You nodded, trying not to stare down the dark opening of her lab coat. Her voice was so sweet, and her breasts looked full and soft. Her olive skin would probably feel so warm on your lips. Before you could stop yourself, you had your hand behind her head, kissing her neck, trying your best to unbutton her blouse.

“Easy! Easy does it,” John sat himself down behind you on the bed, positioning you between his legs, and held you back, keeping you from accosting the medic.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry. I… oh, my God…” You writhed, trying to fight the demonic need building inside of you.

“That’s okay,” she said, “They warned me. We’re going to get you some help… Let me take your temp… Goddamnit. She’s burning up. I’m going to give her a light sedative and something to try and cut her fever, but…”

She stopped speaking, looking up at the captain, trying to be delicate,

“You probably need to… um… begin. The sooner the better. I’ll leave these with you,” she dropped two blue pressed pills into his hand, “Just in case you, uh, need a boost.”

Price recognized the sexual enhancement drugs and put them on his side table. He waited patiently for the medic to take a small vial of your blood. He thanked her, trying not to sound like he was in a rush (even though he was), and eventually she shut the door, leaving you two in each others’ care.

John stayed where he was, but he softened his grip, kissing your neck. He reached down and unbuttoned your pants, giving your hand room to move. You rubbed your folds faster, making tight little circles around your clit, struggling to come.

“Nnngh… fuck. Fuck, I can’t do it. I’m so close, but…” You whined, gritting your teeth and struggling against the XLR8. It was making you woozy, and you couldn’t keep your strength up in order to get yourself over the edge.

“Show me,” he whispered, staring down at your furious masturbation, watching your hand as it worked, “Show me how you like it, little bird. Teach me.”

Your heart raced, equal parts excited and embarrassed to show him something so personal and intimate, but you did as you were told, letting him see how your fingers worked your flesh. He sighed, and you felt his cock shift against the small of your back.

He took over for you, sliding his hand down below yours, mimicking your movements, and getting very close to perfection.

“That’s it!” You hissed, keening for him, “That’s… oh, fuck, that’s so good. Don’t stop. Please, don’t —”

Your orgasm was almost immediate. Your body locked up, every muscle squeezing you until you were frozen, rigidly convulsing as you came on his hand. Your mouth hung open in a breathless, silent scream. Then, to your horror, you felt the heavy stain of some sort of fluid soaking through your pants. At first, you thought you’d wet yourself, but then when John pulled his hand away to inspect your emission, you saw the sticky, gooey consistency shining on his fingers.

“What… I don’t understand. What is that?”

“It looks like your come, yeah? Quite a lot of it…” He observed. Price brought it to his nose and mouth to smell it. Then, he licked his fingers tentatively, and his eyes rolled back into his head, “Mmm. Fuck. It’s sweet.”

He lifted you so easily, it was as if you weighed nothing. Propping you up on his pillows, he helped you out of your pants and boots, stripping you down. When Price saw you, dripping and pink, splayed in front of him like a gleaming prize, he stalled. Then, he looked up at you, eyes wide with glorious wonder,

“Little bird…”

“John,” you gasped, “Please.”

He didn’t waste any more time. In a flash, your thighs were hitched up toward your chest as he shoved them back, giving his mouth access to its warm, wet reward.

The first long lick was like its own kind of drug. Your whole body sang like a bell, trembling and ringing out for him and his soft tongue. He licked you again and pulled away, confused but pleasantly so,

“Fuck, love. You taste like strawberries. That’s… fuck.”

You lost track of time as he devoured you. His whole face was shining with your stickiness, and he couldn’t get enough of it. He was gasping for air, practically drowning himself, rubbing his chin and nose through your folds as he tried to writhe his tongue deeper into your core, fucking you with it to draw out more of your slickness.

The sounds you were making seemed almost inhuman. You were convinced you had never had a true orgasm before if this is what they were supposed to feel like. Every lap of his tongue felt like its own crescendo. You were putty in his hands, figuratively and literally judging by the dampness beneath you.

Eventually, he made his way back up your body, peeling away your shirt and bra, rustling out of his own clothes as quickly as he could, his muscular arms getting trapped in his jacket, stretching and pulling against his heavy bones for freedom.

“You alright, little bird?” He asked you softly, crawling over you and settling himself between your shivering thighs.

You nodded,

“Yeah, that was so amazing, John. I know its selfish, but I need more. Can… can you fuck me? Please? I’m clean, I have an IUD. Please? I won’t —”

“Shh. Hush, love. I’m not leavin’ this room ‘til I’ve cured you, one way or another. C’mere.”

He pulled you to him, kissing you, covered in your come. You tasted yourself on his lips, and he was right: it was exactly like strawberries. It must have been the stimulant, you thought. Something to… entice…

Your mind went blank as John began to feed his fat cockhead into your hole. All of the pain and the heat from the fever disappeared, and you were normal again. Well, a very horny normal, but at least you felt some relief.

“Oh, my God!” You cried, “That’s it. That’s what I needed. Oh…”

“Yeah?” Price narrowed his eyes, studying your face, watching your reactions with rapt attention. Where you were stabilizing, he was falling apart at the seams.

His whole body shuddered as he slid himself into you. It was shallow at first; he was too thick to fit inside of your tight pussy, no matter how wet you were. But, as he lubed himself up in your body, he squeezed deeper and deeper inside, eventually drilling down right to his base, slamming his hips into yours like a hungry machine.

Your screams echoed in his small room, and the metal bed creaked under his enormous weight. You could feel his power through his thrusts. He was so incredibly strong, and his muscles bent and twisted just to serve your pleasure. It was hypnotizing to watch. You were focused on the straining sinew in his immense neck when another orgasm threatened to bubble over inside of you.

It was too soon. You’d barely recovered from the first one, and as he felt your body start to contract around his shaft, he began to moan right along with you.

“That’s it, Birdie, let it out. C’mon. Come for me… That’s it. That’s… ungh!” He coached you, talking you through it, fighting his own pleasure like the dragon it was, the heat of his breathing furling in hot bursts down your neck.

His eyes were wrenched shut, but between his long, aching thrusts, he rambled, spilling out his words instead of himself inside of you like he wanted to.

“Spar… don’t you know how badly I’ve wanted this?”

Your pussy was being pounded so hard you could feel your pulse slamming against your skin.

“...I’ve wanted you… wanted to feel you…”

His face was near yours, close enough that you could still smell your sweet slick on his beard.

“...it’s so good. I never want it to stop. Feels like heaven…”

When he wasn’t speaking in that hoarse, smoldering timbre, you could see his jaw working against itself, fighting the inevitable.

“...so damn responsive to me. Such a good girl…”

Then, his tone turned dark, burning into your face as he spoke against your cheek through gritted teeth,

“You want more, hm?”

“Yeah…” You whispered, your voice sounding so small.

“Harder? You want it harder, don’t you, little bird? I can tell.”

You nodded, whispering your pleading to him in wordless gasps. He smiled. You could feel it against your skin,

“Bloody hell. Bloody fuckin’ hell,” he lamented, rising up above you, wrenching his fingers around your waist, the gentleness gone from his touch, “Fuck, Birdie. You’ll make me come. You… ah!”

He brought you with him as he tumbled over the edge. You felt like you’d been hit with a flashbang. You couldn’t hear, and your vision went white. When you begged your lungs to breathe, you couldn’t take in the air. All you could feel — the only thing your body would allow you to feel — was each silky throb of his cock as it pumped his come inside of you. You could feel it as it burst from him, and then as it melted down your walls, flowing across his fleshy head. It was lava-hot, and you knew nothing except that you needed more.

Price collapsed on top of you, his heavy, furry body sweaty and panting, gasping for air himself. He seemed spent, but you weren’t done.

You flipped him, planting him on his back, enjoying the shocked look on his face, his eyes wide and uncertain. He couldn’t speak; there wasn’t enough time. But, as you began to rock back and forth on his softening rod, he cried out with something between pain and bliss.

“Oh, fuck, love… wait! I’m… oh, shite…”

“I’m… so sorry, John. I can’t stop…” You ground your swollen pussy down to his base, fucking him raw and wild, feeling his come slipping out of you in foamy smears.

He nodded, hiding his eyes behind his palm, struggling to get his breathing under control,

“It’s alright, Birdie. It’s alright. Take what you need.”

As you rode him, he fully softened in you, and you cried out, trying everything you could to bring him back. Then, you watched as he fumbled across the end table, reaching for the blue pills the medic had left behind. He took one, and stared up at you,

“I’m sorry, love. C’mere.”

He grabbed your thighs, and with very little struggle, situated you across his face, grabbing your hips and pulling you down onto him, forcing you to put your weight on his jaw. He began to eat you out, licking long circles around your messy hole at first, and then he thrust his long tongue inside of you, rubbing his nose deep within your wet folds.

You screamed for him then, trying to battle your insecurities and failing. It was overwhelming. The pleasure just built and built inside of you, mounting up and then… nothing. It remained there at its peak, a tightened coil, ready to bust.

“John! John, I can’t… Help me, please.”

With all of his strength, he lifted you off of him, shoving you on all fours, situating himself behind you.

All of his movements were rabid and unwieldy. He was struggling, trying to overcome his soporific pleasure to accommodate you. Hungry for you even though he’d recently been sated.

Your chaos quieted for a moment when you felt his fingers prying your lips apart between your legs, slipping into you like a cork, sinking down to his knuckles into a perfect fit.

“Oh, Sparrow. So fuckin’ soft. So sweet.”

As he praised you, he ate you, pulling out more and more of your stickiness onto his hand, lapping you up with his tongue. You were coming unwound, and it felt amazing. It was as if he was pulling pulsing orgasms from your body on a long silk ribbon, one after the other, soft and slick, neverending.

Then, finally, you felt his head tapping its way into your wet hole once more. Fucking you from behind seemed to be your commander’s preference. It was either that or he had become beyond overstimulated. His noises were a cross between whimpers and growls. He kissed his way up your back, sinking his sharp teeth into your neck and shoulder, grunting like an animal as he buried himself into you.

“You’re so big. I feel so full,” you whispered to him, glancing over your shoulder as he knelt over you like a feral hound, bucking into you shamelessly.

“Feels good, little bird? ‘M not hurtin’ you, am I?”

“No, John. You’re perfect,” you found his jaw as he kissed your neck, nuzzling his face with your own, rubbing against him like a cat.

“Gonna come for me, love? Squeezin’ the fuck out of my cock.”

“I can’t help it,” you cried, feeling hot tears run down your cheeks. You were so overwhelmed, your body was processing every sensation, fraying your nerves. He wiped your temple with his hand,

“I know, Sparrow. I know. Let it out, love. C’mon. I can take it.”

“Nghah!” You screamed, trying to relax into the blinding pleasure, feeling your legs start to tremble from it.

“Mmm,” Price groaned deeply, sitting back on his knees as he felt you spill over the edge. Your sticky come coated his cock and the dense hair at his base, matting the dark fur, “Tha’s it, baby. Fuck, so wet.”

You sobbed through the orgasm as it wrecked your body. John gathered you up in his arms, taking the sheet with him, clutching you to his chest messily, still humping himself into you as gently as he could, but unable to quell his own lurid desire.

“Lay down, Birdie,” your captain whispered, pulling the sheet away and pushing you prone into his mattress, “Try to breathe for me. Tha’s it.”

You tried to do as he commanded. You wanted to be good for him, but your breath kept hitching in your throat. You needed more, and you didn’t know how to get it. You writhed below him, feeling his cock slipping in and out of you, the wetness from your body pooling beneath you.

“John, I’m still so hot. Feels like I’m losing my mind,” you looked at him over your shoulder, and you had to admit he didn’t look much better. He was spent, fucking you on auto-pilot at this point, letting nature take its own path. He was nothing more than base instincts at this point, and you could tell he was having trouble keeping himself tied down.

He wanted to come again, you could feel it in how rigid his cock had become, helped by the pills. Something inside of you wanted to force his come from him, to make him explode in you again, filling you up. So, you pushed your hips back, arching your spine to allow more of his cock inside of your pussy, teasing him with your swollen hole.

“Oh, fuck. Sparrow… don’t…”

“Does it feel good, John?” You asked, not following his orders for once, “Do I… make you feel good?”

“Holy fuck,” he spat, his voice dark and animalistic, unable to tear his eyes from where your bodies were joined together.

You twisted your hips back and forth, effectively jerking him off with your drooling sheath, listening to his deep whining as you tormented him, pushing him to the brink but not fucking him fast enough to toss him over.

“Little bird… Please…” John whimpered, overstimulated and eager to come.

“Tell me,” you teased him, not recognizing your own voice, “Tell me how you like it.”

“I fuckin’ love it. Just like that, Birdie. So damn good. Keep movin’ your hips like that, pretty girl. Gonna make me come again.”

You could feel his eyes watching you fuck him. He used his hands to pull your ass cheeks apart, giving him a bird’s eye view of both of your holes. You could feel the cool air rush across them, exciting you and making you shiver from the sensation.

“So damn pretty,” Price crooned, whispering almost to himself, petting your stretched skin with his thumbs, smearing your wetness all over you.

You felt him grab your hair, right at the nape of your neck, forcing your back to arch, pulling you up to him,

“You want me to come in you, little bird? You want my fuckin’ come? Hm? Tell me!”

“Nghh… Yes,” you hissed. His grip was so restricting, and you felt the air try to escape your throat, “Come. In. Me.”

“Sparrow!” Price shouted, releasing your hair to hold you across your belly, wrapping your body in his arms, ramming himself into you as deeply as he could, letting his cock spill into you once again.

You were full of him. John was everywhere. He was wet and dripping within you, and as he fell to the bed with you, his body covered yours fully, wrapping you beneath him. You shifted a bit, convincing him to roll onto his side, kissing his neck and face, whispering sweet nothings to him as he caught his breath.

“So good, John… You are so good to me,” you let your lips sink into his warm, panting mouth, letting your lips slide together.

“Mmm,” he sighed, “Still hard. The medic was right about those pills.”

“I’m so sorry,” you straddled him again, humping against his still-rigid shaft, “I still need you, John. Please?”

“Sure, little bird. Ah! Oh, fuck, I’m sensitive. Easy… Ngh!”

“I’ll go slow,” you leaned forward to kiss him, capturing his long moan in your mouth.

Suddenly, there was a quick knock at the door and then a slit of light as it creaked open. A skeletal gloved hand reached in with a stuffed bag and dropped it just inside the room before shutting it tightly again.

Price removed you gently, watching you pout, and he explained,

“Laswell’s care package.”

“Come back, John,” you pulled his hand toward you as he opened the bag with the other.

He started laughing, letting you guide his cock back into you while he was standing at the edge of the bed. You watched as he pulled a couple of water bottles out of the bag and set them on the end table, still chuckling to himself.

“Hey,” you pet your fingers through the hair on his belly as you writhed against him, “What’s funny?”

“Strawberries,” he smiled as he pulled a small box of the fruit from the bag, his eyes twinkling in the low light, “You want one, little bird?”

You nodded, but then felt the sudden emptiness of him removing his cock from you again. Then, with a devilish grin, you watched him dip the tip of the bright red fruit into your pussy, twirling it around in your juices, coating it with your thick stickiness, and then sucking it into his mouth, eating half of it and letting it drip down his chin.

He brought it to your mouth, at the same time thrusting himself all the way inside of you, making you gasp,

“Open wide, love.”

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #captain john price #cod mwii #john price #captain price #captain price x you #captain price x reader #call of duty #captain john price x female reader #john price x female reader #x female reader #cod

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flatstarcarcosa · 2 years ago

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i wrote like a whole page which isn’t a lot but it’s something

#txt.txt #i still want to do fic comms too but i need to get back into the swing of writing literally anything #i just wish i could feel like what i was writing was like...............................i dunno. not pointless.#i know you should create for creativities sake but like still lol lmao

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midnightdevotion · 2 years ago

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Hang in There

Request: Hi I saw you opened and requests and I can’t stop thinking about Rooster finding fem reader passed out somewhere after training because she’s pregnant with Hangman’s baby 👀 Maybe she’s been off a while and hangman is still ✈️

a/n: hi guys! it's been forever since i posted something- i will update all my fics soon just needed some inspo from requests to get my mojo back. Thanks for understanding loves.

Pairing: Jake Seresin x female reader(Callsign Daisy)

Life has a way of kicking your ass in unexpected ways. After waking up sick for two weeks in a row you went to the doctors, only to find out you were pregnant. 8 weeks pregnant no less.

Now your approaching 10 weeks and you still don't know how to process that your pregnant, let alone tell your boyfriend. You know you want kids, but this is definitely not how you envisioned it happening.

The fear of telling Jake and losing him for this is something that has you up all night, every night. You can't help but thank you're lucky stars he's been on a mission for the last month because after waking up sick every day and hardly sleeping from the stress of it all, he would've figured you out. He should be getting home later today and you don't know what to do.

Logically, you know that while he plays the part of jackass cocky pilot, he worships you, and he would never be so low to leave you and your baby. His Texas roots would never let him. However, you're pregnant so your hormones don't let you settle the anxiety with logic.

Flinching as a door slams it knocks you out of the anxious spiral that has been your mind for the last few weeks.

"hey daisy you ready to kick some ass today?"

"when am I not" you send what you hope is a convincing smile towards rooster. You move around him grimacing as you walk into the sweltering southern California heat.

___

If there's one thing you can count on, flying is the one thing that gets you out of your head. It takes away all your fear and keeps you exactly in this moment. Nothing outside of being in the pilot seat matters. Not being pregnant, not every stress that comes with it being unplanned, and certainly no anxieties about what comes next.

There's no space for any of that. The second you climb that ladder, your life and everything about it falls away.

Today you are just running team trainings, and they are always your favorite. You have no upcoming mission scheduled so it's just to keep your skills refined and ready for when there is a mission.

"hey daisy, you know it's not fair when they team you up with Rooster, you should just let us win" coyote's voice crackles over the comms.

"Coyote how will you ever get better if I don't humble your ass every time i can?" your sarcastic reply echos back.

"C'mon just once! I've got a date tonight and I want to brag about being the winner"

"Tsk tsk you should know women don't want to hear you brag on the first date coyote. Maybe this is why you never get a second date."

"You can't seriously tell me the girl dating hangman told me not to brag right now."

Laughter crackles through from everyone, and you shake your head. Rooster gives you a signal and you move to his left ready to attack.

If there's one thing the dagger squad knows it's that when you and rooster fly together there is ultimately little to no chance for survival. Nobody expected the duo with callsigns rooster, and daisy to be such a lethal pair but you guys can read each others minds.

This is true on the ground too, which is why you've been avoiding rooster for two weeks. You know he can tell something is up, but if you avoid him, he can't figure out what.

"how quick do you think we can get them out today?" Roosters voice rasps.

"I reckon we will have them grounded in t-5 minutes"

"god not you too with the Texas talk" he groans.

"What you don't think it's charming?" he flips you off and you laugh.

Before you can respond you see coyote and payback flying. Dropping back to cover rooster you grin under the face mask. This is your favorite part of everyday.

Being up in the air with your best friends you feel invincible. Which is ironic considering this is actually a dangerous job.

"rooster, plan c"

"roger that" He goes shooting forward and you fall back. You laugh as you watch them chase rooster, it's symbolic in a way kids chase chickens and then get pecked.

You stay behind them until you move to get a shot. The sweet sound of missile lock rings out and payback drops off. Now that Coyote is onto you, the plan changes, and you become the bait.

You and Rooster know that he wants to air 'kill' you the most, which is why this plan will work. The temptation of you being right there will be too much for him to think about where rooster disappeared too.

So when rooster swoops in and gets the missile lock on coyote, you can't help but laugh. You and rooster devised this plan specifically for Coyote because he always complains when you two are teamed up together. So seeing it come to fruition and even better hearing Coyotes swearing, is the highlight of your day.

Grinning as you climb down from your jet, you search out rooster. You see him hopping onto the tarmac and walking over your way.

"roos we killed that!" you shout out at him. When you feet hit the tarmac, a rush swoops over you. Shaking it off you go to take a step and suddenly the world spins incredibly fast. Yet it feels like everything is going in slow motion, your vision goes spotty and you hear Rooster shout after you. The last thing you register before the world goes black is the sound of boots hitting the ground.

Rooster has never felt more scared to make a phone call in his life. How does he call Hangman and tell him that his girlfriend passed out, and is in the hospital bay when he has no idea why.

It's been four hours already, you haven't woken up and they won't give him any answers. His hair is a mess from stressing about his best friend not being okay while simultaneously worrying about how to tell the guy he knows would move heaven and earth for you.

His leg is bouncing up and down as he stares at the number dialed on his phone screen.

The fact of the matter is Hangman is probably still flying and won't be able to be contacted for a few more hours. The mission was a success, and then it was extended to have them run drills while at sea.

Bradley knows he has to make the call, but he's terrified that once he does it all feels more real. He's terrified to lose his best friend, He's lost enough already.

Sighing he rubs his hands down his face, picks back up his phone and hits the green call button. The ringing feels like the worst anticipation of his life. When it goes to voicemail his hands are shaking, and he doesn't know what to say so he just hangs up.

Next resort is to call the ship. A commander on board will contact hangman and deliver the bad news, and oh how he wanted to avoid it coming from anyone but him.

He feels a hand land on his shoulder, looking up and glancing at Mav he sighs.

"It's going to be okay Bradley"

"How could you possibly know that" Maverick sighs, and sits next to him.

"let me make the call." maverick opens his hand for him to hand him the phone.

"no- no I need to be the one.. just what do I say mav"

"you tell him the truth, you don't know yet what happened, she's stable but the doctors are finding out what happened and he needs to get back as soon as he can"

He swallows and it feels like steal is coating his throat. Nodding as he stands up he paces in front of mav.

"she's gonna be okay, she has to be okay. We take risks every day all day up in those jets, this can't be how she goes mav. She has to be okay."

"and she will be, but take a deep breathe and find yourself because when you get ahold of Seresin he needs you to be his rock, he doesn't need to hear you panic" Rooster sighs because Maverick is right. He grabs his phone and dials the ships emergency contact number.

It takes a few minutes, jumping through hoops, getting in contact with one person to be transferred to another. Rooster curses Jake for being so hard to get ahold of.

"This is warlock"

"Admiral, sir, this is Lieutenant Bradshaw. There's been an accident with Lieutenant y/l/n today and we need to get contact with Lieutenant Seresin."

"Jesus- is everything okay?"

"We're not really sure yet sir but Jake- he needs to know."

"He's in the air at the moment let me see if i can get him back on ship."

"thank you sir"

The minutes feel like hours as rooster is waiting. He hears chatter from his phone and he knows they are trying to get hangman back on the ship and available for the phone call but roosters not sure if he isn't ready to deliver the news or ready to get it over with.

What feels like an eternity later but is actually only twenty minutes he finally hears hangman in the background. He swallows hard.

"Rooster whats going on?" if there's one thing pilots know, they are never called down unless something bad happened.

"Jake. Something happened with daisy... she... she just passed out.."

"in the Air?!! Rooster tell me shes okay!"

"No no! not in the air.. we had just landed and i was walking over to her and she passed out. She's in the med bay now but we haven't heard anything about her condition yet."

"Fuck!..... Fuck!" in the background he hears jake asking how far from land they are. Ultimately needed to be there for you, needing to see you for himself. Bradley hears jake curse when the answer is still 3 hours out.

He hears a slam and then yelling before the line clicks dead. Rooster looks at maverick worried.

"what do you think he's gonna do"

"one way or another? getting a jet and flying here faster." is mavericks reply. Rooster can't help but agree, if he was 150 miles away from land on a boat that moves about 50 mph holding jets that move at 1,000 mph then he knows what option he would choose too.

----

It takes about 30 minutes for hangman to come rushing into the hospital bay.

"How is she, have we heard anything, what happened" He rapid fires off questions.

"the doctor came out and told us she passed out because she's sleep deprived and is showing signs of dehydration and that she hasn't eaten anything today."

"why- why hasn't, she knows she needs to eat- she's so good with drinking water... I don't understand." confusion crosses his fingers because none of that sounds like his girlfriend.

"when can i see her?"

"the doctor is going to come out soon and let us know what room she is in, they had to finish the tests to see if everything is okay."

Hangman nods and paces the floor where rooster paced about calling him. It only takes a couple minutes for a doctor to come out and call your name and everyone shoots up.

"Okay, well, I'm glad she has a support system but only one visitor at a time please, she does still need to rest and recover. She is in room 302"

Hangman takes off in a dead sprint towards the room.

---

Beeping is the next thing your mind registers, and it takes you a minute to open your eyes. Yawning you try to bring your hands up to rub your face but one is being held by something.

Looking over you see Jake studying your left hand.

"you know you scared the shit out of me today"

"Jake I-"

"why weren't you taking care of yourself?" this has you confused and furrowing your brows.

"I have been-"

"You were dehydrated, hadn't eaten and sleep deprived. It's why you passed out!"

"jake you've been gone! You don't know what I've been doing! I did eat breakfast and drink water this morning but I threw it up!"

"god darling daisy if your sick don't come to work!"

"I'm not sick!"

"some would say puking means your sick!"

"not when your pregnant!"

"you- you're pregnant?"

"Yes Jake! I've been throwing up for weeks because of stupid morning sickness and I haven't been sleeping well because oh my god I'm pregnant and that is the scariest thing, and I was worried to talk to you about it but I guess that's out now isn't it." Theres a silence that lingers on after your words, and it feels like ice pumping into your heart the longer it stretches on.

"oh- oh my god" your throat feels thick at his words, he's looking down at your still clasped hands and you watch him to gauge his reaction.

"we're having a baby?" he finally looks up at you and his eyes are welling with tears.

"yes- we're having a-" and your cut off by his lips crashing against yours. His laughter peels out of him as he pulls away.

"were having a baby!"

"wait... you're happy about it?"

"Of course I'm happy about it! You're the love of my life! I want everything with you. The house, the kids the marriage, the dogs the fights, and the stress"

His words make your eyes tear up.

"honey I hate that you were so stressed about telling me you weren't sleeping. I was sitting here, looking at your left hand thinking about how wrong it is that something happened and the doctors didn't immediately call me, that if something were to happen to one of us I never got the chance to put my ring on your finger." His words left you speechless.

"jake... what are you saying"

"I'm saying marry me."

"isn't that supposed to be a question?"

"No. Its a demand, marry me, make me the happiest man, have my babies and marry me and call me out on my shit and shoot me down in the sky I want it all. I know this is so not how i planned to ask you, but please, marry me." You laugh a wet laugh, because this makes sense, you two would get engaged in the weirdest way, and do it all out of order, but you love this man with your whole heart so you embrace the chaos.

"Of course I will marry you" and he kisses you with every emotion he's felt in the last few hours, but you both wouldn't change it. Even if he already has the ring at home in his sock drawer waiting for the perfect moment.

Tag list:

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#jake hangman #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #rooster imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #rooster #rooster x reader #rooster top gun #top gun maverick #topgun #top gun

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necrotic-nephilim · 2 months ago

Note

"I think you need a little something to remind you of who you belong to." - JayTim

send a quote and a ship and I'll write a short fic!

god this one is so good. this idea just. sat in my brain goo for days until i had the time to write it. this takes place like. right around Search For A Hero and before Battle for the Cowl, i would say, with dead Bruce and all, but before Red Robin. very fucked up one-sided feelings bc Jason is Jason and i love him. it's like 3.6k words and my partner edited it for me so. enjoy <3

It took Tim longer than it should’ve to notice the change.

With Bruce gone, Gotham was in upheaval.

No matter how much Tim did, there was always more. A new villain to fight, a new gang to take down, a new murder to solve. Gotham knew that the Batman was gone, for good this time.

Which meant they knew someone, something, could kill Batman.

That made Tim the fresh meat to go after. If the Batman could be killed, it shouldn’t be any harder to take down his Robin. Tim knew that every villain would want a piece of him and he had to prove himself. And for a while, he did. Tim was personally targeted by rogues, ready to be the Joker to his Robin.

Then it changed.

No one was pulling their punches, necessarily. But there was a change. Gangs that once had no problem facing Tim down were running in the opposite direction. Rogues gave up too easily, with an amount of fear in their eyes that didn’t quite match Tim’s reputation.

He should’ve noticed it sooner.

Tim knew something was wrong, at least. But he’d been so slow to notice it; now he was scrambling for answers. He’d interrogated half a dozen thugs and none of them gave him anything. Tim used every trick Bruce had taught him and still. He had nothing. It was just confirmation that they were hiding something. He was missing something, and he had nothing to show for it.

It reminded Tim of how the tide receded right before a tsunami- a quiet, deadly calm rolled over Gotham.

Someone was pulling strings. Someone was going right over Tim’s head, probably planning a big attack to sweep Tim undertow to drown in the chaos. And Tim didn’t have a single lead.

Waiting was always the worst part.

And still, the fires in Gotham burned. Whatever was going on kept getting pushed to the back burner so Tim could stop everything from human trafficking rings to street muggings. He knew he was stretched too thin, too exhausted to hold himself up.

It was a matter of time before Tim got pulled into a merciless riptide.

He just didn’t expect it to be in some grimy alley, losing a fight to a second-rate mob that jumped him.

Tim should’ve gone back to the Batcave when his shoulder got dislocated an hour ago by Harley Quinn instead of just setting it and carrying on.

He should’ve called for backup an hour before that, when he had to face all the Gotham Sirens on his own, leading to the chase with Harley in the first place.

And he definitely should’ve stayed home from patrol altogether, with ribs that were still cracked from a run-in with Solomon Grundy less than a week ago.

But Tim didn’t do any of that. Because if he was going to carry on any part of Bruce’s legacy, it was this: fighting until his body gave out under him.

Tim just hoped if this mob killed him, they wouldn’t dump his body somewhere embarrassing.

Though it was starting to look less like if, and more like when. Tim didn’t like to be pessimistic in a fight. There was always something more to do, one final trick to pull out of his arsenal. Just like Bruce taught him.

This time, though. Tim wasn’t so sure about that.

There was blood in his mouth. Blood in his eyes. He could barely stand, let alone hold his bo staff. It took every ounce of worn-out effort to block the endless blows raining down on his battered body, let alone try to punch back.

Tim always figured he’d meet a violent end.

He wasn’t sure where his comm link had skittered off to. It got knocked out of his ear under a particularly vicious blow to the head, cutting Tim off from any hope of backup. He was in this one alone.

Someone kneed Tim in his already brutalized ribs. He doubled over and groaned, falling to the ground.

He needed to get back up.

Tim’s arms were too shaky to support his weight. He just collapsed again. A steel-toed boot was raised above his head, ready to come down. Tim just closed his eyes and covered his head as best he could with his hands. Better broken fingers than a broken skull.

The boot never connected.

Instead, Tim heard gunfire.

He knew some of the men had guns, but this was a different kind of gunfire. The automatic kind, coming from a different direction. All Tim could do was watch with wide eyes as his attackers started to drop like flies tinged with red.

The ones who managed to survive the first volley of bullets were scrambling around, yelling at each other in a foreign language. Russian, maybe? It was hard for Tim to tell with his head swimming from blood loss, eardrums pulsing to the infernal beat.

From the darkness, a figure jumped down, landing in front of Tim, holding an automatic rifle over their shoulder. Tim blinked hard, trying to make out who it was.

“I only gave you miserable fucks one rule,” a cold voice growled. “Who wants to remind me what it was?”

Damnit. Tim knew that voice.

He was beyond screwed.

All the men froze. Stuttered apologies and pleas came out of half of them, messy and incoherent. They all sounded positively terrified, cowering in front of the figure.

“We didn’t know it was-”

“-just wanted to scare him-”

“He came to our territory first-”

“-but we weren’t going to kill him-”

Jason Todd fired a few shots into the sky, silencing all of them. Tim swallowed a mouthful of blood, his own heart reverberating against copper-stained teeth.

“I asked what the rule was,” Jason repeated slowly. He cracked his neck and pulled a knife off his belt, flipping it around for show.

One of the men was brave enough to step forward. “No one’s allowed to touch Robin. Sir.”

Tim’s breath caught in his throat.

What the hell?

Jason nodded slowly. “And last I checked-” he made a show of turning back to look at Tim. Under the helmet, Tim couldn’t begin to guess Jason’s intentions. “-there’s only one kid with a big R on his chest fighting with a bo staff. I was being pretty generous with all of you. Protection from the cops, from other gangs. All for one fucking rule.”

“Why are you protecting him, anyway? Vigilante freaks cause us nothing but problems-”

The man’s yelling was abruptly cut off by the bang of Jason’s gun and his brains splattering across the alleyway. A smear of pink landed on his bo staff; there was no coming back from that one.

“I guess I should’ve had two rules. No touching Robin and no asking questions,” Jason hummed lazily, as if he hadn’t just taken a man’s life. He shrugged. “I’ll add it to the tab.” He reloaded the gun.

Tim grabbed Jason’s ankle. “Don’t…” he coughed up a mouthful of blood, “don’t kill them.” It was pathetic. He could hold his own in a fight against Jason. He had before. But now, Tim couldn’t even stand and was left with barely enough strength to even grab Jason.

Like shooing away an insolent child, Jason pulled his leg free and clicked his tongue at Tim. “I’ll get to you in a second. Wait your turn.”

Then, he let loose. And there was nothing Tim could do but watch in horror.

Jason tore through every single one of the men like paper. their bodies dropped one by one because instead of the gun, Jason jumped in with his knife. For the fun of the fight, Tim guessed. Because it definitely sounded like Jason was enjoying himself, flipping through the crowd and throwing out a vile quip now and then.

In seconds, it was over. A pile of bodies with Jason as the indisputable victor, wiping his bloody knife off on his jacket. He walked over to Tim, perfectly casual.

Maybe he was saving Tim for the finale, to be killed by Jason’s own hand around his neck. That was the only reason Tim could think of for Jason being the reason rogues had pulled back so much over the past few weeks. Jason wanted Tim’s blood for himself, so he could make some kind of statement out of killing Robin. Or something like that, anyway.

“Up we go,” Jason said with a grunt, leaning over to Tim up like a sack of potatoes. Tim was hauled up with Jason’s hands under his armpits, then tossed over Jason’s shoulder, with an arm supporting him around his thighs.

At least the dead bodies couldn’t judge Tim for how utterly embarrassing he must’ve looked.

“Put me down,” Tim tried to say, but the words were so slurred they sounded like one long syllable. His head was spinning. Tim had heard of double vision, but never triple. Was that a bad sign??

“It’s pronounced thank you, actually,” Jason said, walking off with Tim in tow. Each step made all of Tim’s injuries feel far worse and he hissed, uselessly trying to claw at Jason’s back, the material of his gloves squeaking pathetically. “As in, thank you for saving my sorry ass, Red Hood.”

“Fuck you,” Tim sputtered. He was getting blood all over Jason’s jacket and it was the only thing he could see, as his vision got more tunneled by the second. “Where are you…” everything hurt and consciousness was slipping away from Tim.

Jason said something. Tim didn’t hear it. His hands went slack, followed by the rest of Tim’s body.

His last coherent thought was a long string of expletives cursing Jason Todd out.

It took over a liter of blood to stabilize Tim. Stitches on his arm, stomach, and forehead littered his battered body. He was still unconscious on Jason’s coffee table, with a makeshift IV drip giving him fluids, stripped down to his boxers.

Jason was torn between being supremely pissed off at Tim getting jumped and being sickly fascinated by the sight of Tim being bruised and bloody. Perfectly laid out for Jason.

Maybe he should’ve thanked that Russian mob before killing them.

Jason knew it was just a matter of time before that mob caused him issues. They were no real loss to his empire. He was lucky he caught them in the act before it was too late.

One simple rule and some idiots went out of their way to ignore it.

Tim was Jason’s meat and no one else’s. Jason hadn’t been ready to mark his territory yet. This sped up his plan. There were so many steps Jason had to skip to save Tim. He had been waiting for Gotham’s trust in Robin to grow secure and rooted down, putting Tim on top of the world. Then a new Batman would step up, probably Dick. It’d leave Tim aimless and vulnerable, quickly forgotten by his city the moment they had someone in a Batsuit to worship instead.

And that was supposed to be the moment Jason swooped in and claimed Tim. Protecting him from all the big mean supervillains who were salivating for Tim’s blood that Jason had been holding back for so long.

He would be Tim’s fucking savior.

But a no-name Russian mob had to go and screw it up. Leaving Jason sitting on his couch, feet propped up on the same coffee table Tim was sprawled out on. Every now and then Jason nudged Tim with his boot, just to check how out cold he really was.

The latest boot nudge to Tim’s hip actually got him to stir.

Tim groaned, trying to move. His attempt to sit up failed pretty spectacularly. His arm gave out and he slipped, head loudly bonking on the coffee table. With the concussion he definitely had, that had to hurt like hell. Jason smirked, lighting a cigarette. Another pretty groan out of Tim’s mouth before he managed to open his eyes, blinking hard to adjust to his surroundings.

Jason didn’t rush him. He just watched as Tim looked around the safehouse, craning his neck. He ran his hands over his body, feeling the neat bandage work. Finally, his eyes settled on Jason, widening slightly. Jason could see the wheels turning in Tim’s bright mind, remembering what had happened.

Tim opened and closed his mouth a few times, presumably trying to decide where to start. Jason took a long drag and blew the smoke in the direction of Tim’s face, making him cough.

“Why?” Tim finally said. His voice sounded a little raw.

Jason arched an eyebrow, playing innocent. “Why what?”

“You know what,” Tim snapped. He gestured to himself. “Why are you… doing this? Telling everyone I’m off limits and…”

“And saving you?” Jason finished, earning him a lethal glare. About as lethal as a kicked puppy could be, anyway. Jason snorted and shrugged. “Because I can.” No point in sharing a plan that was all fucked up.

“I don’t need your help,” Tim said through gritted teeth. He tried to sit up, slower this time. He still didn’t manage it.

Jason stared at him. “I’m sorry, would you have preferred Nightwing scrap what was left of you off the pavement after those asshats were through with you?”

“I can fight my own battles.”

“And lose them too. Clearly.”

An angry noise came out of Tim’s throat. “Did you just want to save me for yourself, or something?” Tim prodded, fist clenched at his side.

“Probably not in the way you’re thinking,” Jason said. He flicked ashes off of his cigarette onto Tim’s skin, pulling a hiss out of him.

Tim frowned. “What does that mean?”

“Figure it out yourself. Isn’t detective work your whole thing?” Jason made a show of adjusting how he was sitting on the couch as if he was getting comfortable. He moved to prop his feet up on Tim’s leg, one of the few places on his body that wasn’t covered in injuries. Using him like a little footstool.

Oh, that really pissed Tim off. Jason grinned wickedly, watching Tim try and fail to pull himself free. There wasn’t much weight on his leg, but he was still too weak to get his body to cooperate, leaving him to sluggishly struggle.

Tim’s face twisted. “If you think you could convince me to be your sidekick, you’re out of your mind.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of a lap dog, actually,” Jason tilted his head back. “Much more submissive and obedient, that way.” He didn’t hide the obvious innuendo in his voice.

Tim recoiled. “Very funny.”

“I’m dead serious,” Jason shot back. “I don’t kill for just anyone.” Contrary to popular belief, murder was purposeful, with Jason. If he killed a lot of people, it was for a specific reason. It was a careful image of the unstable madman to make people fear him. But in reality, it was all planned. Every single body in the grave was carefully counted.

“You’re psychotic if you think I’d ever… submit to you.” Tim’s mouth twisted just having to say the words, utterly disgusted by them.

Jason scoffed. “I think there’s a misunderstanding here, Drake.” He pulled a butterfly knife out of his pocket, flipping it open. “You already belong to me. Every criminal in Gotham knows you’re mine. You’re alive because I’ve allowed it. You’re protected because I called for it. It’s a done fucking deal.” He took his feet off of Tim’s leg and brought them to the floor so he could lean up close to Tim’s pale face. “Understood?”

Like a perfectly rational person, Tim tried to headbutt Jason.

Jason pulled back, more for Tim’s sake than his own. He caught Tim’s head with his hand, forcing it back down on the table.

“I didn’t ask for your protection,” Tim hissed, breathing hard. “You can go to hell, Jason. I can handle this city just fine on my own.”

“I don’t really care if you can or not.” Jason pressed the knife to Tim’s throat, a dangerous warning against any more stupid attempts to fight Jason. “You can be Robin all you want. You can crawl back home to that disgusting cave and play house with all the other bats. I don’t give a shit how you live your life, Drake. So long as you know you’re mine at the end of the day-” he shrugged- “we can take all this slow. I was planning to anyway.”

“You were planning to…” Tim echoed, turning the words over as it sank in for him. “You were planning… what? To make me fall in love with you or something?”

Jason gave another nonchalant shrug. “If that’s how you want to dumb it down, sure.” The plan was far more sophisticated than that. Jason didn’t just need Tim to love him. He needed Tim to crave Jason, need him down to the marrow, and dedicate himself wholly to Jason. Be by Jason’s side as a strategist and partner.

They would get there eventually. Soon Tim would see and understand things from Jason’s perspective. His approach just needed to be a little more head-on.

More fun for Jason in the long run.

It was hard to read Tim’s expression. Maybe Jason was too hopeful to believe there could be some kind of arousal or intrigue there, but he could at least tell there wasn’t nearly as much anger as he expected.

Nor was there any disgust.

For a split second, anyway. Then Tim seemed to snap back to reality, trying to pull away from Jason and the knife.

“Over my dead body,” Tim said with as much venom as it seemed like he could muster.

“You know, I’ll do you a favor, Drake.” Jason lifted one leg over the table so he could sit on Tim’s midsection, making him yell in pain. Jason was a heavy son of a bitch, and his body weight did no favor for Tim’s sore ribs.

“What the hell are you doing?” Tim tried to shove Jason’s chest. He looked a little panicked, like a caged animal.

“I think,” Jason dragged out the words, just for show, “you need a little something to remind you of who you belong to. So I’ll be nice, to make sure you don’t forget it.”

He grabbed Tim’s jaw and jerked his head to the side. Tim cried out and tried to get away. He hit Jason in the chest as hard as he could. Which given his current state, was about the same as being smacked by a toddler.

“You should probably stay still if you don’t want a knife in your eye,” Jason warned. He lifted the blade and pressed it into Tim’s cheek, going deep enough to scar.

He didn’t even have to think about it. Jason knew exactly what he was doing the moment he pressed the blade to Tim’s skin.

A mark that anyone would recognize.

A mark just like the one Jason had been given, years ago.

The letter J could stand for a lot of things. And right now, it stood for marking Tim as Jason’s territory.

Jason dragged the knife down and curled it upward. Then he went in for the second cut, dragging across Tim’s cheek.

Tim had the sense to stay perfectly still while the blade moved. Pained noises came out of his throat and he was giving Jason a death stare, but he stayed still.

A perfectly obedient lap dog.

Jason hummed in satisfaction when his work was done. He flicked the knife closed and slipped it back into his belt, watching fresh blood pour down Tim’s face.

Now they matched.

For good measure, Jason bent over and pressed a kiss against the cut, holding his lips there and feeling Tim’s breath on his skin.

Jason pulled away, licking the blood off his mouth. His first time tasting Tim. It definitely wouldn’t be the last.

“I’m going to kill you,” Tim bit the words out through grit teeth.

Jason just smiled. “Don’t you have pesky bat morals about that?” He climbed off Tim, flicking more ashes onto Tim’s skin from the cigarette that had stayed between Jason’s fingers the whole time. He lifted it to his lips, breathing in. “Your suit is over there.” Jason gestured vaguely to the heaped pile of Tim’s suit.

“You’re-” Tim sputtered on his words. “You’re just going to let me leave?”

“I told you,” Jason hummed, wandering toward his fridge, “you can go live your life. I don’t care. You’ll crawl back to me when I want you to.”

“Like hell.” A loud grunt came from Tim and Jason looked over his shoulder, watching Tim slowly move. Every inch looked painful for Tim, but slowly, he managed to get his stiff joints to obey him.

All while Jason watched, offering absolutely no help.

Tim got dressed with a lot of swearing and groans of pain, occasionally shooting Jason a dirty look. He put a small bandage on his cheek, then limped away, leaving behind the shreds of his dignity.

Jason just smiled, finishing his cigarette and stubbing it out on the floor with his heel.

Tim would be back. He would make damn sure of it.

#necrotic writings #ask game #jaytim #dead dove do not eat #batcest #there are sort of consent issues?#jason is intending to stockholm tim so like. yk.#typical jason things.#this was so much fun to write tho #am always obsessed with giving tim and jason matching scars #you can personally decided if you think tim reciprocates some kind of feeling or not #i left it vague on purpose #for the fun.#also ty to my partner for being an editor #but also curse them for yelling at me on my own google doc.#so rude.

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talkfastwalkfaster · 8 months ago

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Moonglade ~ AOTC!Anakin Skywalker

˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊

A/N: this took me way too long to write & i'm not completely happy with how the beginning turned out but. also, this quickly became a purely self-indulgent fic, especially during the end portion. but i hope u guys enjoy this as much as i ended up doing ♡ WC: 2,035 Warnings: fluff, making out

˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊

You glanced around the temple halls — despite knowing that the chances of you two getting caught after hours were slim, you still wanted to be careful. “Are you sure we should be doing this out in the open? Anyone could walk past and see us, Ani,” you whispered, wondering why you agreed to meet him behind a column instead of in one of your quarters.

Anakin chuckled softly before leaning in and kissing you. “You worry too much, angel. What’s the point of sneaking out if there’s no excitement to it? We’re not even truly doing anything. Besides, I missed you.”

Your heart fluttered at the sentiment. Since the war started, you hadn’t seen much of each other lately — with Anakin co-commanding the 212th with his master and you the 104th with yours. You supposed that he was right. The two of you had done worse when sneaking out — from taking a speeder and exploring Coruscant to hiding on top of the temple, this seemed insignificant compared to them.

You smiled and unconsciously leaned closer to him, wanting nothing more than to be intertwined with him so you would never have to be apart again. “I missed you too. I’m sorry for missing your comm yesterday. Master Koon was very insistent on having no distractions during training.”

Anakin had returned from a mission yesterday and craved to see you again after being apart for the better of two weeks. Despite having possessed this longing, he waved off your apology, knowing that he only commed to inform you that he was back, nothing too important. “It’s alright, I understand. We all get busy.”

You shook your head, feeling guilty that you weren’t able to welcome him back as soon as you would have liked. “Still, I should’ve at least sent a message, even if it was a small one.”

Anakin gave a soft shrug, his blue eyes glanced over to you before looking up at the murals — he didn't really mind that you hadn't messaged him, though he found it sweet that you felt bad about not being able to do so. He let out a soft laugh as his eyes wandered back to you. “You really gotta cut yourself some slack, angel. You're always getting stressed over the little stuff," He said softly, his hands slipping from his robe’s pockets to rest on his hips.

While it may not seem like a major thing to anyone else, it was important to you. You took your relationships very seriously, always ensuring that you were not purposely ignoring someone and always attempting to ensure everything went smoothly. You supposed that was why you were a Consular — you consistently made sure that issues were arbitrated and were more than ready to be the mediator if needed.

You scrunched your nose, not liking how dismissive he was. You knew that if the roles were reversed, he would be doing the same thing you were attempting. “I’m trying to apologize here,” you argued adamantly, wanting him to understand this was meaningful to you, despite him waving it off as nothing.

Anakin understood why you were being pushy about this, he knew you didn’t enjoy avoiding people, regardless of it being your intent or not. Truthfully, he hadn’t expected you to answer in the first place — he understood that your life was getting hectic now, especially with your trials coming up soon.

He snickered softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Oh, that was an apology?" He said with a grin as he nudged you playfully. He couldn't resist teasing you, having already forgiven you before you even attempted to make amends with him — despite there not being a reason for you to apologize.

You nodded, unwilling to give in. “Mhm, I apologized, and now you’re supposed to accept it and forgive me. That’s how this works.”

His eyebrows raised slightly as he shook his head — you could be the most difficult person sometimes. He couldn’t complain about it though, it was one of the qualities he loved most about you and something that drove him to you. “Is that how it's supposed to work? Because it sounds like you're being a bit pushy." He taunted.

You crossed your arms and leaned back on the pillar, investing in the banter. “I’m not being pushy; you’re just not cooperating.” You weren’t truly attempting to force your apology down his throat — you knew there was no need. But you did enjoy this type of conversation with Anakin; it allowed you to detach from the turbulence that was becoming extremely common in your life.

Anakin gave a low chuckle as he looked down at you. “Has anyone ever told you how stubborn you are," He teased, leaning closer to you while his mouth curved into a playful smile.

You shrugged, “Once or twice.”

You both knew that you were the most determined person he had ever met, and he adored you for it. Anakin laughed softly before lowering his voice and leaning even closer to you, his sapphire eyes shining in the darkness.

“Let me rephrase that — do you realize how insanely stubborn you are?"

You scrunched your nose and attempted to hide your growing smile, “So I’ve been told.”

Anakin chuckled, leaning his forehead against yours as he spoke softly, “Mhm, you're a stubborn girl who doesn't easily yield."

You smiled tenderly, loving the closeness between the two of you. “You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”

Anakin's cheeks heated at the proximity, glancing down at you with those twinkling blue eyes that made you want to dive in and be engulfed in him forever. “I actually think it’s quite an endearing trait.” His voice was soft as he spoke in a whisper, as though he was telling you his greatest secret.

You tilted your head up to look into his eyes — you knew you would never be tired of looking into them — they were one of your favorite features of his. They were like a siren’s call, pulling you in until you could no longer have any thoughts that didn’t involve Anakin. Before you got too lost in his eyes you quickly remembered he had spoken to you and murmured back, “Is that so?”

Anakin nodded softly as he smiled at you — his heart raced at your admiring gaze, and he couldn’t help the soft blush that spread across his cheeks. “Oh, most definitely.” His voice was low and gentle as he lowered his head a little closer so that his nose was hovering just above yours.

You leaned up and kissed him tenderly, a reflection of the love you hold for him. His breath hitched at the sudden but pleasant contact of your lips. One of his arms wrapped around your waist while the other found its way to the back of your head as he gently pulled you closer, his lips pressing firmly against yours.

The feeling of your body pressed against his made his heart rate skyrocket as he kissed you back with equal passion and fervor.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and deepened the kiss. You wanted to be encased in his hold forever — to simply be with him and never have to worry about anything else. The soft proclamations of love that came from both of your lips said everything the kiss did not: how much you ached for each other while he was gone, the unspoken promise of spending as much time as you could before one of you was shipped off onto another mission.

Anakin panted lightly as he pulled away from you — his need for air overcoming the urge to kiss you for all eternity. He slowly brought the hand that was behind your head to cup your cheek, softly caressing your skin with his thumb and looking at you as if you hung the stars. His eyes roamed your face taking in every freckle and scar, wanting to burn you into his memory in hopes that you would haunt his dreams when he was unable to see you physically.

He dipped his head to quickly kiss you again before gently murmuring, “Let’s get married.” He had fantasized about this for ages now — never having enough courage to reveal his deepest desire to you, but now seemed like a better time than any.

“What?” You whispered incredulously, not quite believing the words that came out of his mouth.

Anakin laughed softly and lowered his voice, “You heard me. We should get married.”

You moved your hands to his shoulders, lightly gripping them, “Is this your way of proposing to me?”

His eyes twinkled with amusement, his gaze never breaking yours. “Maybe,” His voice was soft and soothing as he lowered his head once more to briefly press his lips against yours. “Yes.”

You thought about it for a moment — secretly dating is one thing, but getting married would mean you were fully going against the Code, something you could never come back from. However, a part of you rationalized that you had already done that, and if you had already broken it, what was the harm in going one step further?

“Okay, let’s get married,” Your face broke out into a grin and you giggled softly, not quite believing this was truly happening, but you wouldn’t oppose it if it meant you were wholly committing to your love for Anakin.

Anakin felt as though his heart would burst out of his chest as a smile spread across his face and his eyes lit up with excitement. His mind was quickly filled with thoughts of being tied to you forever, of never having to worry about losing you to someone else. He couldn’t contain himself and brought his other hand to your face to cup both of your cheeks while he smothered you with kisses all over your face.

His voice was soft as he pulled back slightly, “You’re completely okay with this?” Despite your agreement, he wanted to ask again to ensure you were completely on board with the idea. He knew you wouldn’t lie to him or say yes just to make him happy, but he wanted to be reassured that you were committed to going through with this.

You nodded and brought your hands up to cover his, unable to contain your smile. “I’m sure. I want to be with you, Ani, forever.”

Anakin laced his fingers with yours and squeezed them gently; a warm, fuzzy feeling spread throughout his body — he was overjoyed with your answer. It was difficult for him to believe how he got so lucky with you; he liked everything about you — your smile, the way you spoke, the way you carried yourself… You were simply perfect in his eyes and he was grateful that you were willing to spend the rest of your life with him.

The thought immediately made his heart sing — he was going to marry you; he would have you all to himself and soon be able to call you ‘his wife.’ “I love you, angel,” He spoke softly, his voice full of love and joy. He buried his face into the crook of your neck and gently kissed where it met your shoulder.

His actions made your heart melt — you cherished every moment with him. You kissed the side of his head and lifted a hand to cup the back of it while you murmured, “I love you too, Ani.”

A small, content sigh escaped his lips and he squeezed you tighter against him, enjoying your soft, comforting embrace.

You ran a hand through his hair and whispered, “We should head back to one of our quarters before we’re out here too long.”

Anakin hummed softly in response before lifting his head from your neck and giving you one last kiss. He took your hand and interlaced his fingers with yours as he started to lead you out of the temple’s halls and toward his room.

You leaned against him and lightly squeezed his hand as he guided you. The walk to his room was filled with silent bliss, and you knew that despite the chaos happening throughout the galaxy, you would always be able to rely on Anakin.

#nat's tales #⋆anakin⋆#anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x you

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captainsophiestark · 1 month ago

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Vigilante Book Club Part 3

Jason Todd x Reader

Part 1 Part 2 - Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober, and for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: DC

Day Four Prompt: "No, we're not doing that."

Summary: Jason and his new SO have their official first date.

Word Count: 2,216

Category: Fluff

A/N: Shoutout to @v1ckycheesue for commenting about wanting to see the date! I wasn't sure I was going to come back to this idea, but something just popped into my head, so now we're here :) No promises, but there might also be a part 4 at some point on the horizon!

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I stepped out of my building with a smile, waving as soon as I caught sight of Jason on his motorcycle, waiting for me right where he said he'd be. After months of friendship and forming a mini book club with the Red Hood, earlier this week, I'd learned his secret identity thanks to a phone call from one of his brothers. Thankfully, Jason didn't mind, and even better, it had led to Jason asking me out on a date. He'd had a bit of a family situation to attend to earlier, but tonight was the night, and having him meet me outside my apartment on his motorcycle was certainly a good start.

"Hey!" I called once I was close enough. "How did the family dinner disaster go?"

Jason scoffed and rolled his eyes. "It went great, once I got there and kicked everyone else out of the kitchen. Somewhere between five and ten of us regularly attending family events and somehow I'm still the only one who knows how to cook."

I grinned. "Well, from personal experience, I can attest that you are an excellent chef."

"Thanks, babe," he said, huffing a laugh as I finally reached him. He held out one arm for a hug, and I stepped into him, wrapping both my arms around his shoulders as he sat on his bike. He brought his other hand up to rest on my hip, giving it a light squeeze before moving me a step back from him. "You look great."

"Thanks! You do too. So... are you gonna tell me what we're doing tonight?"

"Not yet," he said with a grin. "I still want our first stop to be a surprise. But you do need one more thing before we go."

I raised an eyebrow as Jason turned around on the bike, digging into one of the side bags before turning back to me with a bright red helmet in hand.

"Here, let me help you get it on."

I smiled, Jason helping me pull the helmet down over my head before holding either side of it, giving it a little shake to make sure it fit snugly. He grabbed the part right in front of my mouth and ran his finger across it, giving me a satisfied smile.

"Looks good. Go ahead and hop on, and we can get out of here."

I climbed onto the back of the bike, wrapping my arms tightly around Jason's waist as he pulled his own red helmet on over his head. It wasn't the same as his Red Hood helmet, but it did look pretty similar. I grinned, even though Jason couldn't see me.

"You ready sweetheart?" he asked, his voice crackling over an in-helmet comms system. I nodded, then realized how unhelpful that was.

"Yeah, I'm ready. Although I do have a question."

"What's that?" Jason asked. He started the bike as he spoke, the engine roaring beneath us.

"As somebody trying to maintain a secret identity, don't you think it's a little conspicuous that you've got a motorcycle helmet the exact same color as your vigilatne helmet? And almost the same style?"

I heard Jason huff a laugh, and his response took a few moments to come through the radio. Part of that might've been Jason trying to focus while he merged with traffic, but he'd never be able to convince me that was the entire reason.

"Nobody's figured it out yet," he finally said. Now it was my turn to laugh.

"Well, there you go, I guess. I'll keep my fingers crossed for you that nobody in Gotham suddenly becomes observant. You know, I could repaint your helmet in some sparkly colors for you, maybe put some stickers on it that say 'NOT Red Hood', help you keep your secret. We could make it a date night."

Jason snorted. "No, we're not doing that."

"Your loss babe."

I held tight to Jason as we swept through the city streets, looking over his shoulder and trying to figure out exactly where we were headed. I didn't put it together until we turned a corner and pulled into the parking lot for my absolute favorite bookstore in the city.

I gasped, and I heard Jason chuckle over the radio.

"I take it you're excited?"

"Jason, I got nothing but green flags from you from the moment you brought my favorite book back to me, but I cannot begin to tell you how amazing this surprise is. This is my dream date."

Jason chuckled again, pulling the bike into a spot near the front as he responded.

"I'm glad a bookstore date's as exciting to you as it is to me."

"Oh my god, you have no idea. You are actually a dream come true."

"Right back at you, sweetheart."

With that, he stepped off the bike and pulled his helmet off, taking mine from me a moment later when I did the same. I had a beaming smile on my face that I couldn't wipe off if I tried, and as soon as he saw it, Jason smiled too.

"Alright, I'll never be the one to put limits on getting books, but let me tell you what I was thinking for tonight," he said, taking my hand and helping me off the bike. We started walking to the front doors together, shoulder to shoulder and hands held tight. "I was thinking we each pick a book, ideally one the other person hasn't read before. Then we do an exchange and read the books the other person picked out for us."

Jason looked at me as we came to a stop just inside the bookstore, apparently waiting for my reaction. Like he hadn't just said something out of a romance novel.

I leaned up to kiss his cheek, squeezing his hand as I did. When I pulled back with a smile, Jason had one eyebrow raised.

"That sounds absolutely perfect," I said, and a minute later his face broke out in a wide grin.

"Okay, good. I'll go get your book, you go get mine. Whoever's done first finds the other."

"Deal. Let's do this."

Jason and I headed off in different directions, hunting through the bookstore for just the right book. A few weeks ago, he'd told me he'd never read Dracula, one of my favorite books and a classic that seemed right up his alley. We'd talked about reading it together for our informal book club, but we hadn't done it yet, and I couldn't think of a better book to get him for our date.

Unfortunately, we were in a bookstore, so I had to make a few detours on my way to my goal. I ended up with a small stack in my arms by the time I finally made it to Dracula, and I chewed my lip in thought as I stood betwen the stacks. What if he didn't have room for us to put these on the bike? What if we were going somewhere after this where the books would be a problem? I rarely managed to walk into a bookstore and walk out with nothing more than what I'd gone for, but maybe I could just take picture of the other titles with my phone-

"There you are."

I turned to see Jason behind me, a stack of books in his own arms. I grinned.

"I'm glad to see I'm not the only one who made a few pitstops on my way to the date book," I said. Jason scoffed.

"Of course not. I don't trust people who can easily avoid detours in bookstores."

"Neither do I. It's for sure a red flag."

"Well, I'm glad we both passed the test," he said, grinning again. "Now come on, you ready? I think it's time for the next part of our date."

"I'll follow you."

Jason and I checked out with both our stacks of books, which he carefully loaded into one of the bags on his motorcycle. It was a tight fit, but he managed to make everything work without any of the books being at risk of bent pages. The other bag remained conspicuously closed, and I raised an eyebrow at him as he helped me get my helmet on again.

"Is there a reason you didn't split the books between both bags?"

"Yeah."

"...And that reason would be?"

"A surprise." He grinned. "Come on, you'll know in a minute. It's not too far of a drive from here."

I climbed on the back of the bike behind Jason, holding onto him tight as we wound through the city streets. Before long, we were leaving the traffic behind, turning onto narrower and narrower tree-lined roads climbing up one of the mountains outside of the city.

"This is a pretty murder-y date spot, just so you know," I said over our comms. I felt Jason's chest rise and fall with a laugh under my hands the same time it came crackling over the radio.

"Are you trying to warn me about something, sweetheart?"

I shrugged. "I mean, you're the Red Hood. I think we're both probably pretty safe."

He huffed another laugh, taking one hand briefly off the handlebars to squeeze mine. I wrapped my arms around him a little tighter, and after a few more minutes of riding on darkened trails, we came out on top of one of the tallest hills. Jason parked the bike, then hopped off and offered a hand to help me. We both knew I didn't need it, but I took it anyway.

"Alright, this is one of my favorite spots in the whole city," Jason said, tucking both our helmets away before opening the tank bag that didn't have books in it. He pulled out a basket with one hand, then grabbed mine again with the other.

I followed him to the treeline, until we reached a ledge overlooking the city. I stopped short, letting out a little gasp. I'd never seen it from a vantage point like this before. All the lights sparkled like stars, while the forest around us was perfectly peaceful.

"Wow," I breathed. "Jay... this place is amazing."

"I know. And even better, none of my siblings know how to find it."

I laughed, watching as Jason took out a blanket and unfolded it, then started setting up the rest of an evening picnic.

"You know, I'd actually really like to meet your siblings."

"Oh don't worry, you will. They've been wondering for a while now who I've been meeting up with regularly. They're all nosy motherfuckers, they'll probably show up in disguise to crash our next date."

"...Is it weird that I'm kind of excited for that?"

"Yes. Extremely."

I just laughed again, moving to join Jason on the picnic blanket he'd set up for us. I sighed and leaned into him as he wrapped one arm around my shoulders.

"I have to say, this might be the best date I've ever been on. Buying each other books and a romantic picnic overlooking the city? That's impossible to beat," I said.

"That was my goal," he said, pulling me closer with a grin. "I'm glad I succeeded. Now come on, I don't want this food I packed going to waste."

Jason and I dug into the picnic, which was packed full of our favorite foods. We laughed and talked the night away, perfectly comfortable, just the two of us. It was technically our first date, but we'd been spending our nights together for long enough that a peaceful, romantic night together seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

"Jason, that was amazing," I sighed, leaning into him once we'd finished dinner. He leaned back on his hands, and I curled into his side.

"Yeah. It was. You know, I'm really glad that guy stole your favorite book."

"I guess that's one way to say you're glad you met me."

Jason grinned and leaned in to kiss my temple. "You get me."

I sighed, and the two of us just sat there together for a while, curled up on the blanket and looking out at the city. Finally, I sighed.

"So... what would you think if I proposed a finale for this date?"

"That depends. Is this a subtle way of telling me you're ready for the date to be over?"

"No! I just had an idea I think you'll like, and I want to pull my weight a little on making this the most magical evening ever."

"Oh yeah?" Jason asked, sitting up and moving me with him. I turned to face him, a giant smile on my face as his hands wandered to my waist. "And what might that idea be?"

"I was thinking we could go back to my place..."

"I'm with you so far."

"And then I was thinking we could make some tea and curl up on the couch and read the books we got for each other."

Jason grinned, putting one hand at the nape of my neck and pulling me in for a kiss. I smiled into it, leaning forward and resting my hands on his chest as Jason deepened it. When he finally pulled back, I was breathing hard.

"That sounds fucking perfect. You're literally my dream date, let's go."

I laughed, especially as Jason packed up our picnic with record speed, then took my hand and nearly dragged me back towards the bike. The two of us laughed the whole ride to my apartment, only to cuddle close on the couch while we started reading hand-picked books together. It was definitely too early to call, but I wouldn't mind spending the rest of my nights just like this.

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

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen

DC Taglist: @gaychaosgremlin @v1ckycheesue @lavender-dinos

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multi-fxndom446 · 1 year ago

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You came? You called. Pt3

Scenario: Konig, Keegan Russ and Alex Keller

Final part!!! I was gonna wait till tomorrow but honestly I’m impatient.

Again if y’all want closure or a part 2 or a specific fic for one character pleaseeeee let me know (someone already requested Rudy, love that person with my whole heart)

And I just wanted to say again that I wrote these with the intention that you havent confessed yet or haven’t yet ended up together but take it however you will!:)

Part One Part Two

Konig

Warning: explosion, injury, enemies to…

Dude I google translated for this man and am still not 100% sure it’s right

He didn’t know how it got to this point. It started with a collection of small arguments between you and him.

You usually the one to start it when he did something that would piss you off. Since the beginning he had been underestimating you, keeping you from missions just because he had the authority to do so.

It was safe to say you hated him. After one too many times of him keeping you from doing your job all because he didn’t believe you could.

It’s why you stood here now trying to contain a self satisfying smirk when you were told you would be going on a mission to retrieve someone they had been searching for for a long time.

You were told it was a discreet mission so smaller numbers and you felt pretty happy up until the moment Konig stepped further into the room, his eyes as calculating as ever.

“The colonel will be joining you.” You didn’t even try to hide the frown adorning your face. “A few others will be on standby for extraction.”

Then you were dismissed and you left immediately to get ready and to avoid having another argument with your colonel. It was the last thing you needed right now.

You couldn’t stand him any other time but you were thankful that when it came to missions he entered a zone that completely shut everything else out.

The only thing that mattered to him was the mission.

Konig watched you enter the plane already in the mindset for war. He knew if you could do that then so could he even if the last thing he wanted was for you to be on this mission. Especially with so little soldiers joining but he didn’t have much say.

The mission was going good until it wasn’t. He didn’t know how it got to this point.

He shouted at you, told you to pull back the moment he had the man in custody but you ran into the safe house with the promise of more intel.

He hated you for this, for your need to prove yourself to him. He guessed it was his fault that it was this way. If only you knew you didn’t need to prove anything to him, he already trusted you with his life. He just didn’t know if you trusted him with yours.

“Y/n! Get out!” He shouted into the comms shoving the man he had grabbed into the arms of the soldiers that were there for extraction. “Scheisse!” He shouted when he turned back to the house.

He could hear gunshots on your side but you wouldn’t speak to him. “Scheiße!” He turned back to the men. “Give me your ammo.” He demanded, quickly grabbing it from their hands.

“Konig!” His heart froze completely when finally your voice came through followed by a bomb going off. “Colonel!!”

Any ammo that didn’t make it into his gun or pockets dropped to the ground as he immediately turned and started running towards the house.

You were overrun. You honestly thought you could sneak in and get what you needed but you didn’t anticipate this many men.

You almost felt bad that this probably would ruin the mission but all you could think about was the pain in your leg and the smoke in your lungs as the house started catching fire. Your plea for your colonel falling heavy on your tongue.

You honestly thought he’d leave you. He didn’t like you, he had the man in question so what a perfect opportunity to leave you for dead.

You almost succumbed to the thought of your death when you faintly heard more gunshots and the pounding of feet.

You were clutching your leg and coughing when you finally looked up to see the giant man that was your Colonel. “Konig.” You wheezed out “You came.”

He didn’t even blink just kneeled down next to you to get a good angle at which he could pick you up. His eyes softening in the slightest when you cried out. “You called.”

You could only stare at him in shocked silence as he carried you out of the burning building, past all the bodies of the soldiers he shot just to get to you.

Keegan P. Russ

Warning: none really it’s actually kinda cute. Second chances???👀

(I am very sorry if he is more OOC then the rest I haven’t played ghosts yet)

It was a moment of weakness on your part really and you wished instantly that you could take it back.

You had gone two months with no contact and you planned to keep it that way you really did. You wanted to keep it that way out of respect for him but all it took was a few drinks and a lonely night before you were calling his number.

Of course it went straight to voicemail because why would you expect anything less?

You contemplated hanging up as the voicemail message started playing through. The sober part of you told you to hang up, to block him before he saw the notification on his end but the drunk part of you just needed to say something.

You missed him desperately and though you weren’t proud to admit it you left him a voicemail. The words tumbled out of your mouth as soon as the beep sounded. “Keegan.” You sniffed. “I’m so sorry for anything I’ve ever done.”

You don’t remember much of anything else you said by the time you hung up. You vaguely recall telling him you missed him and wished he was there with you but your brain couldn’t even care by the time you made it to your bed and you all but collapsed on it sleep overtaking you immediately.

You weren’t lying you did miss him. He was a good man to you and you knew in the end it was a mutual agreement to end things between you. It didn’t mean it hurt any less, especially knowing the love was still there it was just his job that hardly allowed him to see you.

It was only for that reason that you tried to respect his wishes to keep distance. You knew he was most likely on a mission anyways and wouldn’t hear that message for awhile, so you slept soundly deciding to deal with your decision tomorrow.

Your decision to leave a voicemail came back to bite you in the ass only a few hours later when someone pounded on your door frantically.

You almost ignored it but the person was insistent. So you dragged yourself from your bed and to the door, holding your head that was nursing a new headache.

You opened it without much thought but froze the moment your eyes connected with those striking blue ones you hadn’t seen in months.

“Keegan..you-“ your hand fell to your side as you took him in. It was then your brain finally caught up and the things you said in the voicemail started coming back. “You came.”

“You called.” He stated it as he stared at you as well. He seemed out of breathe as if he ran to your apartment.

You stood in a staring match with each other just taking the other in as memories started to come back to you and your cheeks flared in embarrassment.

Sober you now remembered you apologizing to him profusely, telling him you missed him, telling him you hated him for leaving but loved him all at the same time. You remembered the way you told him you just wanted to see him more than anything.

“I-“ he tried to start but no words seemed appropriate for this situation. His eyes held everything he wanted to say but couldn’t. “I got worried when I heard your message. I thought something might’ve happened.”

It was then you noticed him in his gear still. “Did you come straight here from base?!”

“I came straight here from the mission we just finished.” He explained like it was simple. You whispered his name and he took a step closer. “You said you hated me did you mean it?”

You swallowed. “No.”

“You said you loved me too. Did you mean that?”

“Always.”

Alex Keller

Warning: hurt that’s lowkey it

(This is another Rudy situation idk why I did my man’s like this so I’m hoping someone wants a part two😭)

“I may have someone that can help.” Alex avoided Farah’s gaze as the sentence left his mouth. “If she answers..”

“Who is it?” She asked hesitantly. “Please tell me not an ex.”

“No! No just a really close friend. She just may be a little upset with me.” He uttered as he pulled out his phone to try and get in contact with you. “Maybe a little more than upset.”

He never was able to get ahold of you but he got ahold of Price who went to you and instantly you were loaded into the car with him and Gaz as they headed to where Alex was.

You hated how you would drop anything to help him. You always had.

When you got to the location price and Gaz were the first to get out of the vehicle followed by you when you knew it was safe to do so, also to avoid Alex seeing you for as long as possible.

Farah was the first to greet you as you exited the vehicle. Price and Gaz leaving to go meet up with Alex. “You must be Y/n. Alex spoke very highly of you.” You shook the hand she held out to you with a tight smile.

“I wish I could say I’ve heard a lot about you but Alex hasn’t really said anything to me the last few weeks.” Farah shifted on her feet awkwardly as you realized your words. “I’m sorry, I’m glad I can be of some help to you Farah.”

Farah nodded with a small smile before she looked back at where the captain and Alex were. “I’m not sure what happened between you both but I can assure you there’s nothing-“

“Nothing happened between us.” You cut her off before she could even finish her sentence. You already knew what she was wanting to say but you were telling the truth you were only upset with Alex for leaving you in the dark.

“Y/n!” the man himself called out to you when he finally realized you were only a little ways away talking with Farah.

Farah sent you one last nod. “I’ll leave you two.” Then practically sped walked away to get away from whatever may happen next.

“You came!”

He had a smile on his face one that you were sure couldn’t be dwindled by your less then enthusiastic response of, “you called.”

“I didn’t know if you would come. My calls wouldn’t go through.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly but your frown stayed firmly planted.

“Oh why would you think that? Because you dropped off the face of the earth without a word? Then you call me out of nowhere asking me to come help you and the women you’ve been on mission with this whole time? Someone I’ve heard next to nothing about?” He winced at your words. He knew you weren’t even mad about Farah but about how he’s done this on more than one occasion.

Dropping off the face of the earth only to turn up a few weeks later asking for your help. He knew it upset you because you had basically been partners in crime since joining the military together.

“Y/n-“

“I’ll be honest Alex. I only came because the Captain asked me and because I want to help Farah and her people. But you and I-“ you jabbed a finger in his direction. “Are not okay.”

Alex watched you walk away with a frown. Farah caught his eye from just behind you and she raised an eyebrow at him in a look that felt like she was scolding him before she too shook her head and turned away.

(Alex Part Two here: Pretty like the sun)

#call of duty x reader #konig x reader #konig cod x reader #keegan russ x reader #keegan p russ x reader #alex keller x reader

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sunshinehaze1 · 3 months ago

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Savor

Pairing: Jack "Whiskey" Daniels x f!reader

Summary: You and Whiskey are partners both professionally and personally. After a close call on your most recent mission, you take care of Whiskey.

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MDNI. established relationship, m!oral, penis pronouns, no use of y/n, a decent amount of "Baby", "Sweetheart", "Darlin" and "Sugar" for a fic with <3k words, allusion to unprotected piv, inappropriate use of company-owned communication devices 😏

a/n: This was written for @joelmillerisapunk PPCU Body Worship Writing Challenge for her follower celebration! 🥳 I was given the prompt of Agent Whiskey and cock worship. Thank you, as always, to @80ssong for beta reading. 😘

word count: 2,324

ao3 | ml

“Agent Whiskey, what’s your status? They’ll be back in less than an hour.”

“It’s almost finished, sweetheart. About another twenty minutes to complete the download.”

You’ve worked as a communications analyst with The Statesman for the last few years. On your first mission, you were assigned to work with Agent Whiskey. Your first impression was that he was cocky and arrogant but dripping with charm and handsome as hell—a devilish grin topped with a well-trimmed mustache, jeans that highlighted both assets, and that black Stetson. You knew you were in trouble. After several missions together, the professional and personal lines began to blur when, at the end of an especially harrowing mission, an evening of drinks to celebrate the success landed you both in Whiskey’s bed. Now, a year later, you both are madly in love. You love spending time together and are so lucky you get to work and play. Even with spending most of your time together, things haven’t gotten stale. You’ve been able to keep the passion in your relationship alive.

Whiskey chimed in on the comms, “Sugar, whatcha thinkin’ about for dinner tonight?”

You respond with a teasing lilt, “Hmmm, I haven’t thought much about dinner, but I know what I want for dessert.”

The line went quiet. You know you got to him and patiently await his response, “Baby, everything alright?”

Clearing his throat, “Um, yeah…I’m here, all good. Dare I ask what kind?”

“Oh, ya know, only my favorite kind. One that I like to savor. I start by getting a little taste with my tongue before I take the whole thing in my mouth to enjoy fully.”

You can hear the hitch in Whiskey’s breath. Dirty talk over comms isn’t very professional, even if it isn’t explicitly covered in the employee handbook, but it was just the two of you. So you didn’t see any harm in some playful teasing. It’s not like you cross this line often, but you love to find ways to keep Whiskey on his toes and the spice alive.

“You can’t be talkin’ like that. You’re distractin’ me.”

You chuckle, “Baby, what did you think I was talking about? I was talking about a popsicle.”

He growls, “Who do you think you’re foolin’? I know that dirty mind isn't cravin’ a popsicle.”

You giggle and return to the task at hand, completing this mission and getting your beloved out safely. You’re looking forward to accomplishing your own mission when you get home. Pulling up the video feed, you notice the targets have arrived sooner than anticipated. Pushing the panic aside, hoping it doesn’t register in your voice, “Whiskey, baby, they’re back. We need to get you out of there.”

Whiskey watches the status bar creep along on the screen. It flashes that there are still two minutes left. He feels his pulse quicken when you tell him the targets are approaching the room he’s in, but he’s not too concerned, given his training. Whiskey knows how he’ll get himself out of this. Kingsman don’t go into a mission without meticulously mapping out every scenario with a plan to get out. Mercifully, the download speeds up, and he quickly disconnects the drive, pocketing it.

Watching all this transpire on the screen, your heart rate speeds up, and your temperature rises. The clock is ticking as the targets continue their approach. You watch Whiskey scramble through the room's back door as the doorknob turns on the other door. He runs down the hall and out of the building, jumping into his Bronco. Pulse racing and sweat dripping down his temple, he’s thankful he made it out. Once he’s finally caught his breath, he opens the comms, “Baby, how you doin'?”

“I think I should be asking you that! But I’m good; I’m glad you're safe. How are you?”

Whiskey sighs, “Sugar, I’m relieved; that was close, but I got what we needed.”

“A little too close. Now get your sexy ass back to headquarters and take me home!”

“Yes, ma’am!”

Whiskey pulls up to headquarters, surprised to see you waiting outside for him. He greets you with a tip of his Stetson and that delicious smile, “What’s a sweet girl like you doin’ outside? I was going to come inside to get you.”

You slide into the passenger seat with a smirk, leaning over to give him a smoldering kiss. “I couldn’t wait any longer. Let’s get outta here!”

You love riding in Whiskey’s Bronco, especially on cool nights like this. The wind whipping through your hair, Hank Williams crooning, twinkling stars in the clear night sky, and your man beside you. You don’t take moments like this for granted, and it's even more meaningful after such a close call. Whiskey is humming along to the music, and you gaze at him adoringly. You scooch along the bench seat to get closer and feel his warmth. His arm, perched over the back of the seat, wraps around your shoulders, tugging you into him. You let out a contented sigh, basking in the sense of safety and love you feel for this beautiful man.

With Whiskey’s attention back on the road, you move your hand to his thigh. A smile spreads across his face. You both are so attuned to each other that you don’t need to look at him to know his reaction. The feel of the stiff denim, while your hand moves slowly up his leg, sends goosebumps up your arm. Your fingertips lightly brush over the sturdy material, and you feel his cock grow as you tease him. He lets out a soft groan, which encourages you to keep going. Looking out at your surroundings, you know you’re not far from home, but you plan to take advantage of every minute. His jeans are growing tighter as you tantalize him by rubbing your hand over his bulge. Your mouth watering in anticipation of what’s ahead, you breathed, “Baby, I can’t wait to taste you.”

God damnit, your teasing will kill him—and you, if he’s not careful. He needs to stay focused. Through gritted teeth, he steels himself, eyes on the road. Pressing down on the gas pedal, he finds the right speed between his intense need to get you home and getting a ticket. He needs to get out of this car before he loses his mind.

Finally, he pulls into the driveway, thankful to have made it home in one piece. He’s been on a hair trigger, and one more minute in the Bronco with your teasing would have sent him over the edge. Whiskey quickly exits the truck and runs around the front to open your door. You kiss him on the cheek when you step out. With a wink, you coo, “Such a gentleman. You better not be so gentlemanly when we get inside.”

Whiskey rolls his head back with a groan. “Sweet girl, if you know what’s good for ya, you better get that sweet ass inside right now.”

“Yes, sir,” you tease.

God damn, this woman is perfect. How did he get so lucky?

You hurry inside, Whiskey close on your heels. Your laughter is infectious as he begins to grab at you and whips you around to face him. He leans in for a searing kiss, and warmth spreads through your body as you feel his bulge pressed against you. You need this man; you want to worship him and show him how much you love him. Locked in a passionate kiss, he moans when you back him further into your shared home and lead him to the couch. Whiskey gets lost in your seductive eyes as you release yourself from the kiss and kneel in front of him. You run your hands over his bulge, holding his intense gaze as you unbuckle his engraved mini flask belt buckle. After whipping the belt out of the loops, you eagerly unzip his jeans and start to peel the obstructive material from his body. He quickly flips off his boots, and you pull his jeans down his legs and off.

Eyes blown wide with lust, you take in the sight of the outline of his cock through his boxer briefs. As many times as you and Whiskey have fucked and made love, you have never gotten used to how big his cock is. You nuzzle your face into him through his boxers, running your nose and lips across his bulge, inhaling his musky scent and feeling the wetness of his precum through the fabric. He sighs, and you look up through lidded eyes, “Is this all for me?”

He grabs your chin between his thumb and index finger to get a better look at you, “Sweetheart…unngh—goddamnit…it’s all for you.”

Your hands travel up his thick, firm thighs. When they approach the waistband of his boxers, you slip your fingers inside, eager to unwrap your present. His hard cock bounces out against his stomach as you pull them down. You start to drool when you see his uncut length, a Pavlovian response. The tip glistens with his precum, and you sigh with adoration.

“Baby, he’s so beautiful and perfect,” sealing your compliment with a kiss on the tip.

You lean back and lick your lips to savor the taste of his precum. Even though you are ready to devour him, you want to take your time to focus on his pleasure. You wrap your hand around his length, admiring how hard it is, and delight in the knowledge that it is all because of you. The veins of his shaft create a beautiful landscape traveling underneath his soft and silky skin. You take his length and rub it across your lips and then your cheeks, moaning at the feel of him over your skin. A groan emanates from Whiskey’s lips as he watches you with rapt lust. He is eager to get inside your warm, wet mouth, but he wills himself to be patient. In the end, he knows it will be worth the wait.

As if you sensed his impatience, you begin to reward him by peppering him with soft, wet kisses. Slowly, up and down his shaft. Careful not to miss an inch; you cover his length with your wet lips. In between each kiss, you lather him with praise. He’s being so good for you, so patient. You tell him how perfect his dick is. How much you love it, the feel of it, the taste of it. Whimpering your name, Whiskey runs his thumb along your cheek, lust glistening in his soft, brown eyes. Unable to hold off much longer, you begin licking his cock at an agonizingly slow pace. Teasing with kitten licks at the tip, leading to slow, long, broad strokes with your flattened tongue from base to tip and back again. He feels your hot breath on his balls when you reach the base of his shaft with your tongue. He practically begs you to move your attention there. You gently cradle his balls in your hand as your tongue continues its journey along his cock. You sit back on your heels and look up at your man, “Tell me this dick is mine. He’s all mine, isn’t he, baby?”

“Oh…f-f-fuck, me. Yes! Baby, he’s all yours. Do whatever you want with him.”

Your desire to take him fully has reached a fever pitch, overtaking your will to draw this out as long as possible. You begin to slide his tip in between your lips, and he lets out a breathy moan, finally feeling some relief. As you slowly take his length, inch by agonizing inch, you hum sweetly, sending shivers up his spine. He watches you take his entire length when your nose bumps into the coarse hairs below his belly button. Breathing through your nose, you hold your mouth still for as long as possible. Enjoying how full you feel. After a few moments, you pull off his length, sputtering as you try to catch your breath.

He takes the back of your head into his hands and coos, “Darlin, you look so pretty with your mouth full of my cock.”

You feel a gush of slick wetness in your already soaked panties. Sucking Whiskey’s dick has always turned you on, drawing your pleasure from his own. Eager to have him back in your mouth, you wrap your lips around him again. This time, with vigor, you slide him inside and move up and down his length. Bobbing up and down on his cock as you find your pace. Unable to control himself, his hips thrust into you, causing his tip to hit the back of your throat. He tries to pull back, but you grab his ass and hold him there. You don’t want the feeling of fullness to end.

“Sweetheart…”, Whiskey trying to form coherent sentences, he mutters, “Baby…fuck, you’re doin’ such a good job suckin’ my dick. My sweet, dirty girl.”

You moan at his words of praise and continue at your relentless pace, only slowing down when you feel your jaw begin to tighten, but you pick back up again. Whiskey is about to explode; he’s begging you to slow down, to stop even. He’s been holding off for as long as possible because he wants to come inside your warm, sweet pussy. You finally oblige his request and pull off of him. Looking up at him with wet puffy lips, blown out, cock drunk eyes, and the sexiest smile he’s ever seen, Whiskey pulls you up to your feet. God, he loves you so much. He devours you with another toe-curling kiss while he removes your clothes and the rest of his. Dinner long forgotten, he lowers himself to the couch and brings you onto his lap. He looks at you with a teasing smirk.

“Sugar, I need you to sit this pretty pussy on my cock and ride your cowboy until you’re screaming my name!”

Thank you for reading! I'd love to know what you think. Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. 🫶🏻

#PPCUBodyWorshipChallenge #jack whiskey daniels #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x female reader #agent whiskey #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #savor

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foldedinpagesfics · 17 days ago

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TITLE: clutched my life & wish it kept (dearest love, i’m not done yet)

[1/4]: the injury of finally knowing you

SUMMARY: In the end, all roads lead to you. Pairing: Gaz x Death!Reader, Price x Death!Reader Word Count: 1k

WARNING: no beta, no proofread, first time doing a reader fic. reader is death, but tf141 are kinda into it?

A/N: dipping my writing skills into this fandom for the first time. have a ton of ideas for one-shots and series, but this one popped into my head and i had to get it out.

Death was a stranger.

One that Gaz had no intention of meeting anytime soon. There were several almosts. He almost got blown to shit in Piccadilly. He almost gets riddled with bullets. Hell, he almost chokes on a hotdog laughing too hard at a joke. The cigarettes were a slow building almost, but he put in an effort to quit. Delay things a bit longer. Compared to his teammates, Gaz was the hardest for you to track down. He’s impatient to a degree, wants justice a little too much at times. Played with the idea of throwing out the rules of engagement a time or two and handling shit. Yet he had alluded you at every turn.

It takes a helicopter and some rope for Kyle Garrick to get a glimpse of you.

“Sergeant!”

Nik’s voice barely registers. It’s a whisper in the wind compared to the vehicles that whip past his head and narrowly miss cracking him in the skull. Nik calling out to him is a memory in the back of his mind that ends up scraping on the gravel and dirt the moment he slams against the ground briefly. He loses his rifle and probably a bit of blood in the fall, but he doesn’t lose his bearings. Not completely anyway. At least that’s his hope, as his blurry vision clears and his eyes lock onto the unbelievable.

He sees Death itself.

He sees you.

Gaz sees your face in each passing car and truck he narrowly misses. It’s not hard to notice someone beautiful like you amongst the men currently trying to kill him. He swears time slows, his eyes finding yours in every direction he looks. You’re oblivious to the chaos around you, hair whipping around from the wind. No one seems to take notice of you. Only him. He wonders if it’s intentional or some sort of sign that his time is coming. He wonders a hundred other thoughts in the brief moment he has before voices begin to yell over comms.

“Captain, Gaz fell out!”

“Say again?!”

“The sergeant! He’s gone!”

Not yet.

Gaz heard the voice in his head as he reached for his pistol. Only that voice in his head wasn’t his. Neither was it the voices of his teammates. It was yours. Soft as a feather, the words glided through his mind. Gentle. Hell, it was a little encouraging. Your lips didn’t move when you spoke, your eyes still tracking him with growing interest. You smile. You fucking smile and it’s so damn stunning that Gaz nearly drops his pistol. It was a moment, barely a beat, before the truck you were in zoomed past his head. He dodged, head on a swivel, as he tried to find you again to no avail. Adrenaline began to kick in, sending Gaz fully back into the action.

“I’m not dead, Nik! I’m hanging from a bloody rope!”

He hears your laugh in his head at his words. Amused was what you were. Even if he couldn’t see you, he knew. Your face isn’t anywhere to be seen by the time he finally takes aim at his attackers. Death was not claiming him that day. If anything, you were going to have to watch him make the comeback of a century.

And what a goddamn comeback it was.

Gaz waited until they touched ground and were well on their way towards medical before he brought you up to Price. The frenzy around him, the sight of you watching, then disappearing from his sight. Hearing your voice in his head, feeling the echoes of you long after you were gone. There was death and then there was Death… and Capital-D-You-Death was not real. You couldn’t be real. Surely he had to have cracked his head a little too hard back there, right?

“Sounds like her,” Price huffed out, “Always needed a front row seat, that one.”

Gaz half-wondered if Price also had his shit rocked during the fight. Maybe the good captain took a tumble himself. There was no way he heard those words correctly.

“Sir?” he asked, unsure of what else to say.

“She comes for us all in the end, but you can spot her in the close calls.”

Price brought his gaze down to meet Gaz’s. Ocean eyes kept steady, holding the sergeant’s confused look with absolute certainty.

“Try not to let her visit too often, yeah?”

“I’ll try my best, Cap’.”

Price watched as the medic came into view and ushered Gaz into another room to get him checked over. His hand fished into his pocket for a cigar, bringing it to his lips once he retrieved it. He moved towards his other pocket for his lighter, but found himself pausing. Though there was no other in the room with him, Price knew he wasn’t alone. There was no mistaking the sensation that came over him. Your touch to his cheek, warm and familiar.

He knew your touch well.

“You can’t have him,” Price warned you, gravel in his voice. The words dripped with authority. “You can’t have any of ‘em.”

Price felt the pressure at his back. Light, but just as warm. Like a lover leaning in to embrace him from behind. As macabre as it was, Price found his eyelids falling closed at the at feeling, tipping back his head with a soft sigh. A release that brought ease to his shoulders. It had been too long since he felt something so intimate. What the hell does it say about him? That these days he could only find such solace with Death itself?

“You can’t have me either, sweetheart.”

Though he could not see you, Price felt your fingertips brush over the hair along his jaw. He held still, hands resisting the urge to reach out. To try and touch in return. To feel you. It wasn’t until he felt the warmth dissipate that he moved again. You left. Left him cold. Alone. At least until the next time you decided to visit. Price knew you had his number. It was only a matter of time. One bad day. One wrong move. He’d go down fighting, then find you waiting for him. He made peace with that long ago.

Until then, he’d make sure you kept your distance from him and his.

#john price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic #john price #kyle gaz garrick #tf141 x reader #reader is death and we're all just cool with it okay?#also OF COURSE PRICE HAS A RELATIONSHIP WITH DEATH #three guesses on which other member of the task force also has a close relationship with death #it's ghost we all know it's gonna be ghost his chapter will come #obligatory gaz falling out of the helicopter #fanfic: mine #fic: clutched my life #aimee writes COD

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robby-bobby-tommy · 19 days ago

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I am very sad we didn't get to see more of Autobot Knock Out. So much I even have a fan episode idea. It's pretty garbage, but anyway.

Mb I'll write a fic about it *cough cough*forget about operation:redemption I literally can't finish stuff.

It's basically about how KO would get accepted into the team.

At first red finished bot will be distrusted, naturally. And he'll try to win them over. But millions of years working with Decepticons do change a bot. So what seems normal to KO is absolutely unacceptable to Autobots. For example, if someone loses their arm, a bot obsessed with his paint job will just find some vehicon and take their arm instead. Or actively take prisoners and interrogate them (like he did with Smokescreen). And when Optimus (in this timeline he hasn't died yet because I said so) gives him a pep talk, KO genuinely doesn't understand what is he doing wrong? Because, when you're a Decepticon, you don't bother much with ethics. It's either you complete your mission successfully, or you might be on the receiving end of Megatron's anger. So seeing Optimus disapproving of his "success" And yet forgive others failed missions made KO resent team prime a little bit.

Then, he was demoted to "nurse" despite being qualified enough to do operations without supervision. And it's even if Knock Out is lucky enough to be allowed to operate at all. Ofc, their reactions are more than understandable, but it still hurts. Ratchet watches his every move, because they spend all their time in the base.

That's the third thing that pisses KO off. He has to stay in base because of his "misconduct". And red finished bot hates having to stay inside. He loves going to drive in theaters or race with others, but now he isn't allowed even a step out.

The tipping point of the situation is when whole team prime (-Ratchet) go on a mission to fight decepticons. This mission is very important, but despite KO's desire to help, Optimus eventually asks Knock out to stay. He says it's because they "are in no need of another scout, but a second medic will be necessary if we wish to end this mission with no losses". When the team left, KO stayed for a bit, before quietly sneaking out. He is very infuriated and tired of playing Ratchet's little helper, and if team prime doesn't accept him, then he's free to do whatever he wants.

Once the gang gets back, mostly in one piece, Optimus notices KO's absence. Autobots have no way of getting through to ex decepticon, because they didn't have his comm nor have his location. Despite some bots being fine with his disappearance (Bulk and Smokey are still very distrustful), leader decided to meet up with him and talk things through.

Turns out KO went to the nearest drive in theater. OP comes up to his new subordinate, and watches the movie for a while, before asking if KO would like to talk. When smooth talking and flirty jokes didn't get "sweet rims" To go away, red bot finally decides to tell the truth. Optimus understands KO's frustrations and gently points out that stay at the base and absence from any too risky battles weren't meant to make KO feel unaccepted, but to keep him safe. Now that he has betrayed Decepticons, he is pretty high on "to kill" List. Yet his cruel actions still aren't accepted, because Autobots aren't like Decepticons, and team prime isn't like Megatron's gang. They do not use violence unless it is necessary.

This talk eases a lot of KO's concerns and after they get back to the base, he'll try to behave better.

Sorry if this post is very messy. I really wanted to get this idea out of my head and make it sound interesting.

#transformers prime #transformers #tfp #tfp knockout #knock out #optimus prime #tfp optimus prime #maccadams #transformers fanfiction #I'm just incredibly interested in how would his redemption play out. and since i have no official context. I'll make my own canon/j #btw i hc that during rid15 ko meets up with the crew after successfully escaping prison and because a funny mix between-#fresh out of jail uncle and wine aunt that judges everybody

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yes-i-am-happyaspie · 7 months ago

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OK OK BUT JOY, the prompt: “If you die, I die. Don’t you get that!” Between Irondad?! Either way! ASDGHJKL ANGST

AHHHH!!! Mini-fic time?? Yes. Yes, Mini-fic time.

Here it is, at 997 words. A lot of action, leading to a short panic-induced argument... and a hug. Because of course, there is a hug. :D Enjoy!! [click here for a reversed use of this prompt]

If You Died...

Peter hadn’t meant to get in over his head. It was just- he needed to keep his neighborhood safe, and he had powers. It wasn’t like he could see a problem and just walk away. But he had been careful. He’d used his tools and his abilities to access the situation. He’d asked his AI to run facial recognition on everyone involved and had cross-referenced their information through several databases; just to make sure he knew what he was up against.

Three regular guys, selling regular drugs inside a regular empty warehouse. That was it. Nothing about it had been alarming or ominous. So, taking them out should have been easy. And technically it was. It was the swarm of armed individuals that had flooded in after that had been the problem. He had that too for a while. Then the big guys came in. Three of them, with large shoulders and enhanced strength that matched his own. He was having a difficult time dividing his attention between the projectiles and the hands being aimed at his face.

“Karen?” He dodged, while shooting webs that never seemed to hit their mark. When they did, they never held for long. The big guys busted right out of them. “A little back up would be nice.”

“Of course, Peter. Contacting Mr. Stark.”

Peter ducked and slid beneath one of the large men’s legs. “Wait! Isn’t- Is Captain America available?” He spun around, sending his foot into the guy's knee cap. The impact made no difference; like a child kicking a fencepost. “Maybe Black Widow? Hawkeye?”

There was no debate. “Mr. Stark is already in route.” Three dots appeared on his HUD along with an ETA.

Peter wanted to fret over his mentor's imminent arrival but there wasn’t time. Whenever he thought he had one of the men restrained, they broke free and he had to start over again. One down, two to go. Two down, one- no, still two to go. It was a vicious cycle.

Ten minutes later a blast came from the right. A hole appeared in the wall and Iron Man, gauntlets ablaze, flew through it. Peter looked up. The momentary distraction allowed enough time for a football sized fists to make contact with his stomach. He flew backwards, through a spray of ammunition, and landed in the wall.

The comms crackled to life. Peter wished they hadn't. Pain was already radiating from the back of his skull down and down his spine. When Mr. Stark shouted his name, his ears began to ring. Dazedly, he looked up. Mr. Stark was swooping around the room. Metal clanked and repulsors whirred. Peter struggled to get to his feet to help. Mr. Stark’s voice was back in his ears.

“Stay down, Spider-Man! You’re done!”

Peter blinked. He took stock of his body. The blow had hurt, but he had enhanced strength and a healing factor. He shook out his limbs and demeaned himself well enough to continue. “I’m good. Just a little-”

He didn’t get to finish. Mr. Stark flew by, lifted his faceplate and scowled. “I said you’re done!”

The tone gave Peter pause. Reluctantly, he slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor. “I’m really okay,” he whispered, despite his throbbing head.

“And I’m really not discussing this will you,” Mr. Stark quipped. “I’m just about done here. You stay put. Capice?”

Peter nodded and looked around. Most of the little guys had fled. And only one of the larger men remained standing. Clearly his webbing needed an upgrade. Maybe taser webs with a manual detonation. A range of fifty to ninety thousand volts would probably do it. Could the suit handle that without increasing the power? He was unable to finish the math before Mr. Stark was in front of him.

“Let’s go.”

Peter allowed himself to be lifted to the top of a nearby water tower. He pulled his mask off and ran a hand over his sweaty forehead. “Mr. Stark, I-”

“Do you have any idea who those people are, what they’re capable of?” Mr. Stark gestured wildly toward the warehouse.

Peter shifted his feet. “I didn’t-”

“Didn’t what? Didn’t know? Of course you didn’t. Did you even stop to ask?” Mr. Stark wrapped his fingers tightly around his wrist. “There were two dozen lacheys and three giant bruises in there! What were you thinking?”

“I didn’t- it was three normal guys when I started!” he half-shouted. It wasn’t his fault, but Mr. Stark didn’t look keen to listen. “The others just- showed up!”

Mr. Stark took a step forward. “You could have died in there, Peter!”

“I wasn’t going to die!” he defensively shouted. “I have super-powers and I did call for back-up!”

“Your AI said you had been going at it for over an hour before you called! Peter-” Mr. Stark looked frantic with his hands running through his hair. “Peter, I don’t know how to explain this to you any more clearly. I-” His face dropped, all blood draining from his face. “What if you had died? Then what?”

Frustrated, Peter gritted his teeth. “It’s on you.”

Mr. Stark blinked. “No. No, bud. That’s not- geez.” he pinched the bridge of his nose, his breaths increasing as he spoke. “Pete. If you die, I die! Do you get that? If you die- I will never recover. I will-”

Peter’s brows furrowed with realization. Mr. Stark was having a panic attack. “Are you okay, Mr. Stark?”

Mr. Stark’s head shot up, his eyes wide and pupils dilated. “Are you?”

“Yeah.” Peter stepped closer, his hand going to the back of his hair. “My head hurts but that’s it..”

Without warning, he was pulled into a tight hug.

“Just- promise me you won’t wait so long to call for help next time. Because- Peter? Peter, I can’t lose you.”

Eyes closed tight, Peter nestled his face into Mr. Stark's chest. “I promise, Mr. Stark. You won’t lose me.”

#thanks for the ask!#happyaspie mini fic #peter parker #tony stark #irondad and spiderson #iron man #spider-man #marvel #mcu #light angst #peter parker gets a hug #panic attack #irondad

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corazondebeskar-reads · 9 months ago

Text

nobody is coming to save you

Din Djarin x f!reader

originally for Febuwhump 2024 Day 14 - blood-stained tiles | Febuwhump masterlist

words: 1.4k

summary: You get caught by a Mandalorian bounty hunter after fleeing your marriage.

-- am I really a Din fic writer if I don't do a "reader is a bounty" story?

warnings: ambiguous/open ending (I may return to this one...), reader attempts to negotiate for her life, discussions of pregnancy/abortion/menstrual cycles (reader had an abortion, it's discussed without detail, do NOT come at me with discourse I will not engage anyway), mentions of blood, allusions to abuse

dividers by @saradika-graphics

“Nobody is coming to save you. Get up.”

The words fell flat through the distortion of his helmet. Was it pity? Amusement? Disgust? He wasn’t wrong, though. The crowd that had suffocated the market lane moments before had mostly cleared in the wake of the Mandalorian.

He stalks over to where you’re still sprawled on the ground. It didn’t seem urgent to get up, to make it easier for him. With a huge gloved hand digging into your bicep, he pulls.

You go limp. You’re not going to help him, and you’re fairly confident he doesn’t have authorization to kill or seriously harm you.

You’re vindicated when he holsters the pistol, not that it’s a pleasant victory. He cuffs your wrists in front of your stomach and then simply hoists you over his shoulder.

“Where’s the cargo?” he asks.

This close, you can almost hear the grit of his real voice beneath the electronics.

You mean to ignore him, but his question is a thread that needs pulling. “What cargo?”

“He said you stole something from him.”

His words churn your stomach like rancid Bantha. That worm. “Well, you’ve got it,” you say bluntly.

He doesn’t question it, and you assume he’s clocked the ostentatious jewelry as the target. Trev always did like you shiny, whether with gemstones or tears.

He’s probably a little rougher with you than he should be, given that you’re not running anymore. But he’s a bit kriffed over the whole situation. He only took the bounty because the price was so high — but not being allowed to carbon freeze the bounty was almost not worth it.

But the client wanted his pretty little wife back without the side effects, and he was willing to compensate for it. He had said she could be restrained or gagged as needed. Had said Din would probably want to since the “bitch never shut up.”

It wasn’t his job to give a shit, so he didn’t. He did figure the client’s name would come across a puck sooner rather than later, though. Whatever he was peddling to afford this had the man under severe paranoia.

He drops you to your feet at the bottom of the ladder and nudges you with the barrel of the pistol. “Climb up and wait. Don’t touch anything.”

He expects an argument, given that you both know the blaster is mostly a farce. He’d be willing to take a cut on the fee if you tried anything, though. A bolt to the foot wouldn’t kill you.

But you don’t. You climb in silence, with him close enough behind that your bodies overlap. You’re acutely aware of his helmet’s proximity to your ass, and he’s acutely aware that it’s been too long since he paid a visit to a brothel.

He doesn’t manhandle you once he crests the platform to the cockpit; just jabs a finger in the direction of the seat to the left of the pilot’s chair. It sits slightly behind, the viewport partially obscured. He separates the cuffs and magnetizes them to the arms of the chair.

The engines rumble to life once he’s seated, switches flicked, and buttons pressed in the wake of his deft fingers. He doesn’t speak a word to you.

When Karga answers the comm, he interrupts the man’s pleasantries to get right to the point. “I’m confirming the status of the bounty as requested. She’s alive and in custody.”

“Excellent, excellent; I knew you’d make quick work of it, Mando,” Karga says, clapping his hands together. The holo flickers. “The client has requested that you avoid hyperspace travel upon your return.”

“What?” Din snaps.

“There’s extra compensation in it for you, of course.”

“That’ll take eight standard days,” Din gripes.

“Your expenses will be covered, as well. Food, fuel, any lodging.”

“Fine,” Din says and closes the line. He sits in silence for a moment, sifting through the new information, before he stands abruptly and turns to you.

“You’re pregnant,” he says bluntly.

You dither about how to respond. In the end, you don’t. He can’t be trusted. So you purse your lips and look away.

No one needs to know that the first thing you did when you got far enough away was fork over one of your bracelets for a termination at a no-questions-asked clinic. They had been kind, if not overworked and undersupplied.

“That’s what you stole, isn’t it? His baby?”

You don’t say anything, but you don’t back down from his gaze, either. His baby. The phrasing sets off so many warning bells it’s like a ship-wide alert.

Din’s first instinct is anger. It’s too close to his own gaping wound, too close to where Grogu lives with Luke Skywalker, a man who hadn’t even given Din his name before taking his kid. And yeah, he’s supposed to feel like he did the right thing, but his son is gone, and it doesn’t feel like the right thing. Not at all.

He looks at you and wonders how you could be so cruel.

It doesn’t last, though. He’s seen enough to know the way this story usually goes. So, instead, he looks you over and sighs. “I’ll see what we can do for other accommodations,” he says, a loose hand gesturing to the cuffs.

“Thank you,” you say, though you don’t feel very thankful at all. But you know a little politeness to your captor goes a long way. You know that like you know how to breathe.

It works until it doesn’t. On the fourth day, you wake up at the inn he had agreed to for the night and smell iron, and you know the ruse is up. You try to sneak to the fresher but quickly realize it doesn’t matter. You have nothing to hold back the blood, anyway.

You sit in your soiled panties on the cold metal tile and resign yourself to free bleed until he inevitably wakes and finds you.

You don’t wait long.

“We’re not far from a clinic,” he says cautiously, from where he leans against the doorframe.

“Don’t need one,” you mumble, looking anywhere but him. It’s bad enough that you couldn’t come up with an explanation—knowing you’ve bled through enough that he can see it is on another level.

“You don’t know that,” he says with what you think he thinks is compassion. “There might still be something they can do.”

The truth flickers across your face for only a moment, but it’s long enough for him to catch on.

“It’s your cycle,” he says, flat and loyal to his thoughts.

You nod. No use lying now.

“Were you ever pregnant?”

“Yes.” Your voice is clipped, your face pulled sharp.

“How long since?”

“Two weeks after I got away. Six before you found me.”

Two months. You had made it two terrifying months on your own. And now, thanks to this monster, you were being dragged right back.

Trev had to have spent a fortune on this bounty. You feel feverish at the thought, a cold sweat creeping across your spine. And when he finds out you’re not pregnant…

Wait.

“You know, you won’t get your money,” you blurt, hardening your eyes as you stare him down, shoulders squared.

“I will. Whatever happened to you isn’t my problem.”

“No, you won’t,” you say, taking a breath before jumping in front of the proverbial blaster. “Not after you were so rough when you captured me, and I lost the baby.”

His head snaps to you. “What did you say?”

“When you found me. You tackled me, knocked me to the ground, and attacked me. The trauma was too much, and—“

And he has you pinned up against the wall where you sit, a hand around your neck. “You really think this is a smart idea?”

“Go ahead,” you hiss through his grip. “Leave marks.”

He lets go immediately, seething. His gloves creak as his fists tighten around nothing.

“What if we can work something out?”

“I don’t negotiate with quarry. What’s stopping me from putting you in the freezer now?”

“My jewelry,” you say in a rush. His threat isn’t idle; you can feel its wrath as if his hand never left your throat. “It has to be worth at least as much as he offered. Tell him there was a complication, send him the ring, and you can have the rest.”

He doesn’t respond; just storms off. You, of course, stay put.

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #mando x reader #mando x you #febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #tw abortion

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captn-trex · 2 months ago

Text

technical devotion, part nineteen: safety

a/n: I remembered I have a taglist this time lmao so yay. also just fyi, there's gonna be seven more chapters (after this one), which is funny to me in and of itself because this fic was originally only supposed to be like 10 chapters in entirety but... I have no chill apparently

warnings: mentions of blood & injuries, traumatic weight loss? idk what to call that

last chapter | next chapter | master list | join the taglist

Echo’s day so far had been particularly monotonous. Every day had been for a while now.

He had skipped breakfast after another sleepless night, instead opting to stay in Kan’s office and monitor Imperial long range comms on the off chance he heard anything about rebels or prisons or anything else that they never talked about. After hours of tuning in and not finding anything, he dragged himself to the mess, and grabbed some caf before continuing on with his previous activity.

This had been his daily routine for a few weeks. He couldn’t bring himself to do much else.

When he walked past the command room on the way back to Kan’s office, he heard people speaking in hushed voices. He turned his ear to the door with a frown, but failed to hear what they were whispering about. He opened the door, and the two people hunched over the holotable shut their mouths when they saw him, looking very caught as they switched it off.

“What’s going on?” He asked, looking between Rex and Spider as they scrambled for something to say.

“Nothing” Rex said quickly, standing up straight, “What brings you here?”

Echo gave them a sceptical look, “I heard you two… whispering”

“Ah, right” Rex rubbed his neck awkwardly, not adding any further comments.

Spider gave him a look, “I think you should just tell him Rex”

“Tell me what?” Echo frowned, stepping into the room.

Rex sighed deeply, “Please don’t be angry when I tell you this, I just wanted to make sure our intel was correct before I got your hopes up”

Echo waited patiently for him to continue, trying to quell the irritation that was already bubbling up. Rex looked to Spider and nodded for him to leave the room. When the door closed behind him, Echo was growing impatient.

“What is it?”

Rex took a deep breath before speaking, “We know where Kan is”

A range of emotions washed over Echo. He was relieved, yes, also angry like Rex had predicted, but his worry was still taking over. Knowing where Kan was didn’t make her safe.

“How?” Echo asked.

“Senator Chuchi did some digging, one of the descriptions of the prisoners matched her perfectly, so we’re pretty certain”

“How long have you known?”

“Since… two rotations ago”

“And you didn’t tell me?” Echo crossed his arms, but Rex jumped in before it could escalate.

“Look, the plan was that Spider was going to go and get her, and she’d be back here before you knew anything about it. Like I said, I don’t want to get your ho-”

“Send me instead” Echo interrupted him, his voice firm as if it was a command.

“Echo” Rex said in a sigh, rubbing his hand over his face, “Spider was an ARF in the 41st elite corps, he’s got this”

“And I was an ARC in the 501st, I’m not seeing the relevance”

“It’s not about that. You know what I mean” Rex gave Echo a pointed look.

“Rex, please” Echo begged, his tone a little desperate, “Please send me instead”

“Echo, we… we’re pretty sure it’s her, but you need to be prepared for it not to be”

“I know, I know. I just-” He looked to his feet, “Please, I- I need to do this”

Rex didn’t want to give in, he really didn’t, but the pleading, broken hearted man in front of him was a hard one to disappoint, even when he wasn’t in this state.

“Fine” Rex conceded, “But I’m trusting you to be objective about this. I don’t want you ending up captured too”

Echo nodded, “Of course”

“Alright” Rex turned the holotable back on, revealing a map, “This is the place”

Echo drew his ship out of hyperspace, the blue streaks pulling back to reveal a planet that made it seem he hadn’t even pulled the lever. The surface was painted by swirling blues, punctuated by large white clouds, and for a moment it reminded him of Pabu.

A stern voice crackled through the comms, interrupting his thoughts and demanding clearance codes for landing. Echo obliged, transmitting the codes that Senator Chuchi had acquired. He waited with bated breath as they verified the authenticity of them, and his body relaxed when they let him know he was cleared for landing.

He brought his ship into the upper atmosphere, going over the plan in his head, trying to remain calm. He’d done things like this before, it would be fine. He was prepared for Kan not to be here, but that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t scour the entire building until he was sure she wasn’t.

His ship touched down on the landing platform and he took a deep breath, opening up the door and adjusting the stormtrooper armour that he was wearing. He stepped out of the ship, his eyes scanning the platform for anyone taking note of him, of which there were only a few mechanics glancing over as they worked on other ships.

Echo walked slowly, calculated, trying not to look suspicious by rushing about. He followed the map that he'd burned into his brain, heading for the detention block of the base. He nodded to the troopers that were stood just down the hall from the door he needed to access. Ordinarily, an access card would be needed, but Echo was able to bypass that necessity by way of his scomp.

He kept glancing over his shoulder, making sure the stormtroopers were still faced away as he cracked through the door's encryption. The door zipped open, and Echo pulled out his scomp, quickly darting through the door and putting his cybernetic arm back into place.

The cells that lined the hall were only ray shielded, so he could see through and into them. He peered into every cell as he passed, his eyes narrowing in on the figures inside to identify the one he was looking for. He made it though a few corridors before he came across a cell that made him stop in his tracks.

The person inside was curled up on the bench that lined the back of the cell, their knees pressed to their chest and their head resting against the wall. Echo almost didn't recognise her. Her frame was a lot smaller than the last time he'd seen her, her skin clinging to her bones in a way that made Echo’s heart lurch.

Once he had recognised her, he immediately slammed his fist into the control panel to lift the ray shields, ripping off his helmet as he rushed inside.

“M'aira”

Echo fell to his knees in front of Kan’s rigid form, taking her face in his hands. Her eyes fluttered, but didn’t open fully, as if she couldn’t, or didn’t have the strength to.

“Who- What…?” She muttered, an edge of fear and uncertainty.

“It's Echo” He spoke gently, not wanting to frighten her. Her eyes opened a little more at that.

“Echo” She whispered, “You’re here”. She sounded relieved.

“I'm here” Echo confirmed, leaning his forehead against hers, enveloping her in his presence, his safety. “I'm going to get you out of here Cyar'ika. Can you stand?”

As he guided Kan's feet to the floor, Echo noticed a small trickle of dried blood down the side of her neck, and bruising around the tiny wound from which the blood had spilled. Echo decided to put it to the back of his mind, focusing on getting Kan out of here before he dwelled on the state she was in.

Kan’s knees crumbled beneath her as she tried to stand up, and she slumped back onto the bench.

“I’m sorry, I can’t-”

“It’s okay” Echo assured, a hand on her shoulder, “Can I pick you up?”

Kan chuckled at her own joke before she told it in a weak voice, “I don’t know, can you?”

Echo shook his head with a small disbelieving laugh escaping his lips, “Still got a sense of humour I see”

Kan shrugged a little, her eyes fluttering closed at the same time. Echo took that as his sign that it was time to go, and hooked an arm under her knees and across her back, lifting her far easier than he would have liked. She had certainly lost a lot of muscle mass, which explained why she was so weak. Once again, Echo tried not to think on it for now.

Echo promptly made it out of the cell, making his way back through the halls that he had used to find Kan. They didn't make it too far before being intercepted, but Echo wasn't going to let up until Kan was safe again. An Imperial officer was walking along the same corridor as them, and looked up from their datapad as they were about to pass by.

“What is going on?” The officer asked, utterly perplexed by seeing a stormtrooper carrying a barely conscious woman.

“Prisoner transfer, ma'am” Echo responded, his voice unwavering

The imperial frowned and gave Kan a look of what seemed to be disgust, “Why are you carrying her?”

“She doesn’t have the strength to walk, Ma'am” Echo answered her, though he was aware that this situation was certain to become more of an issue soon enough.

The officer gave him a sceptical look, “Show me”

Echo’s arms instinctively tightened a little, staring down at the Imperial through the visor of the stolen helmet.

“That's an order, trooper” She said sternly, her brow furrowing further.

“Just do it Echo” Kan whispered into his shoulder.

He grimaced under his helmet, nevertheless obliging and bending down to place Kan on the ground. She was wobbly on her feet and gripped onto Echo's arm for some stability, ending up just leaning on him to stay upright. Echo did his best not to touch her in a way that would give them away, only letting her use his body to hold herself up.

“Hm” The Imperial hummed, “Okay, pick her up. I shall escort you to your shuttle.

“That's really not necessary Ma'am” Echo countered, immediately taking Kan back in his arms.

“I'll decide what's necessary” The officer snapped back, and Echo couldn't help but wince and roll his eyes at once. He'd figure it out, he knew he would.

He followed the woman out onto the landing platform, then directed her towards his ship. She didn't say anything at first, and neither did Echo, in his mind it was all going according to plan. He was climbing the first steps into the ship when she finally spoke.

“What kind of ship is this?”

He didn't bother answering, instead pushing her back onto the platform and rushing aboard to close the door.

He placed Kan down on the bunk at the back, as gently as he could in a rush. He immediately went about getting the ship in the air, ignoring the blasterfire that was now being directed towards the ship.

He made his getaway, pushing the lever to send them to hyperspace and sitting back, abundantly relieved. He let out a long breath, rubbing his hands over his face to bring himself back to the new reality that Kan was safe. He looked back at her, his heart breaking just a little to see her sat up and looking down to her lap with a despondent expression.

She looked so different, a shell of her old, ever-cheerful self, and it was almost too much for Echo to cope with. He approached her slowly, making himself known but not trying to startle her too much, then knelt in front of her. Her eyes flicked up to his, and they looked empty, such a stark contrast to the eagerness, the life, he usually saw swimming in them.

“Oh Cyar'ika” He brought his hand up and gently stroked her face with his thumb, “What did they do to you?”

Kan didn’t respond, and looked down to her fiddling hands, feeling a little embarrassed of the state she was in.

“M'aira?”

She then turned and laid down in the bunk, facing away from him and staring out of the back window. Echo sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed and bringing his hand to her arm to gently rub it back and forth, reminding her that he was there, that she was safe. He could feel her relaxing more and more under his touch, and when it seemed that she had reached the point of sleeping, he took his hand away.

Kan reached out and grabbed his hand, “Don't leave”

Echo’s heart ached at how small she sounded.

“I’m not” He reassured her, squeezing her hand gently before taking it away again.

Echo stood up and went about noiselessly removing his armour, his eyes never leaving Kan as he stacked the pieces on the floor next to the bed. Once he was stripped down to his blacks, he laid down behind her. He could see how rigid she was, and continued to stroke her arm.

“You're safe, Cyar'ika, you can relax” He murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

He once again felt her body ease under his hand, though this time she turned to look at him. Her eyes searched his for a moment, some unknown emotion fighting its way out to reach for him.

“Thank you for coming to get me”

Echo gave her a small smile as he brushed some hair from her face, “Of course M'aira, I'm just sorry it took so long”

Kan let her mouth form a small smile to mirror Echo's expression, just as a violent shiver wracked her body.

“Are you cold?” Echo asked immediately.

Kan nodded.

“Come here” Echo gave no room for argument, and pulled her body into his.

Kan relaxed immediately, the feel of Echo's body pressed against hers confirming that she was safe, that he was really here.

“You're always so warm Echo” She muttered into his chest, which brought a fond smile to his face.

He held her even closer, burying his face in her neck and taking in the scent that he had been missing for months. Kan did the same thing, taking in his presence in every way she could, gripping at his clothing with one hand, the other placed over his chest to ground herself to his heartbeat.

“I've missed you so much”

Echo's heart ached at the cracking of her voice, “I've missed you too Cyar'ika”

Kan lifted her head to look up at him again, “You keep saying that, Cyar'ika, it's Mando'a isn't it?”

“Oh” Echo blushed a little at getting caught, having been only half conscious of himself using it in the first place, “Yeah, it is”

“What does it mean?” Kan asked.

Echo cleared his throat, “It's like… sweetheart, or darling”

Kan let out a contented hum, her head coming to rest against his chest again. “I like it” She asserted, turning it over in her mouth again, “Hm. Sounds better when you say it”

Echo's chest filled with warmth, his heart feeling full, almost bursting at the seems as Kan fell asleep in his arms. This time, he'd make sure that's where she'd stay.

taglist: @darthnihila @cdblake1565 @bunny7567

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drurrito · 8 months ago

Text

Welcome Aboard

A/N: Cranked out my first fic for Carol. All mistakes are mine.

Pairings: Carol Danvers x Reader

Warnings: A little bit of angst and alcohol use

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Carol never has visitors.

When the boarding request pops up on her communications system, she almost blows it to bits, it's a sound she hasn't heard in years. It takes her a few seconds to finally press the button to speak to whoever is waiting on the other side.

"Who's there?" she finally asks.

"Captain Marvel?" a voice responds, "I'm agent y/n, I'm here from S.A.B.E.R. Our comms are down indefinitely, so Fury sent me over to do a briefing."

Carol looks over at Goose, who's stretched out across the navigation station, unbothered by the news of an unexpected guest. Carol tries to emulate the same attitude, striding over to the door to greet you like she's done this plenty of times. She used to at some point, that has to count for something, right?

She loses her bravado as soon as she finds you standing in the entryway.

"Captain Marvel, it's a pleasure to meet you," you stick your hand out and Carol takes it after a beat too long. You don't take offense, Fury gave you the rundown on how long Carol has been isolated. It only took a few minutes to conclude that being a multi-galactic hero is a lonely job.

Carol doesn't stand around for too long, she hurries into the ship after inviting you in.

"Excuse the mess, been a while since someone's been aboard," she apologizes, tossing a single loose shirt into a hamper in the corner and tidying a pillow that was definitely knocked over by Goose.

"It's no problem, are you ready to start the briefing?"

"Sure, you want a drink or anything? Besides water, I think there's a few bottles of brew from Aladna hiding in the back of the fridge," Carol is already halfway to the kitchen, oblivious to the quizzical look on your face.

"I'm okay, Captain, honest," you flash her a friendly smile, and she feels the air escape her lungs. Her shoulders descend from her ears as she walks over to the chair across from you. You're too busy pulling up the agenda to notice.

Carol gingerly takes a seat, her hands rubbing vigorously against her thighs. She might be the first person to grate their hands on denim jeans at this rate. You're still looking for the agenda when Carol springs up from her seat, "are you sure you're not hungry? I'm so sorry, I should have offered before-"

"Captain?"

"Yes?" Her eyebrows were about to launch into orbit, she was already a few paces away from the kitchen, scraping the farthest corners of her mind for that recipe she learned from a family she helped a few galaxies ago.

"I'm okay, really."

"Right," she hurries over to the chair again and lets her body unceremoniously drop into it, vowing to herself she'll never get up from this spot unless she absolutely needs to. She looks up to see you waiting patiently for her go-ahead. Despite traveling to the furthest edges of the universe, she's never seen anything like the color of your eyes.

She collects herself quickly before saying, "let's get started."

---------------

The briefing was mostly successful. Turns out your agenda was outdated, the correct one must have been wiped out from the surge that knocked out the comms. You had to ad-lib everything that was left out and corrected anything that was no longer relevant. Carol watched you intently the whole time, like the fate of the universe depended on scheduled ship maintenances and admin tasks.

"There's still one thing, it was from a meeting last week," you stand, pacing back and forth trying to jog your memory.

"I'm sure it's in there somewhere, maybe we can take a look with these?" Carol is holding two memory dive devices. You've never had to use them before, but you know everything there is to know about how they work.

"Good idea Captain."

"You can call me Carol, agent, it's alright," she hands you one of the devices.

"Thank you," you just nod and take the device, Carol pretends the way your fingers brushed against hers for a fleeting second didn't just make her spine tingle. She lets you take her bed while she sits in the tattered recliner she's been meaning to get rid of.

----------------

It all happens so fast.

One second you're watching the memory of you sitting in a briefing room with Fury and your colleagues, the next, you're watching Carol's memory of Maria telling her to take Goose.

"The cancer came back."

You can only watch a few more blurs of Carol's memory before you jolt upright. Your body is so tense, all you can do is let out a shuddering breath and a few tears.

"Y/n?" Carol is already by your side, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean for that to happen."

Her voice is distant, like she's calling to you from the other end of the galaxy in the deepest cave. You're still trying to get your bearings, that was far too much pain packed into what was only seconds with the mind dive.

"Can you look at me? Please?"

She sounds much closer now, you turn to look at her and suddenly remember where you are. Your breath is still unsteady as you wipe the half-dried tears on your cheeks, embarrassed over being reduced to tears.

"That...those were your memories," you finally speak, Carol sighs in relief. Her hands have been hovering between your shoulders and face this whole time, unsure if touching you was the best idea.

"Yeah, they were," she straightens up, taking the device from your hands and tossing both aside.

"I've been trying to remember everything...before, well, everything," Carol starts again, looking at anything but you, "I'm so sorry, if I knew that was going to happen I wouldn't have-"

She's cut off by the feeling of your arms pulling her against you. She almost forgot how much she loves hugs, almost.

Carol returns the favor and wraps her arms around you. You both stay like that for a while. Loss is one of the first lessons a hero learns, but it doesn't mean they're impervious to its effects, especially with how often it happens. Carol is trying to convey how sorry she is with every circle she rubs into your back. You only part when it seems like the dust has finally settled.

"I think I'll take that beer now," you say after heavy sigh. Carol gives you a sympathetic smile before heading to the fridge.

----------------

Carol explains everything that you saw.

She also tells you stories about her life before this one, and her adventures from roaming the galaxies. You did a poor job of trying to stifle your giggling when she mentioned being married to Aladna's prince to resolve a "legal issue." That earned you some side eye and an eventual smirk.

Carol swears she's mostly made peace with everything that happened, but you both know it weighs heavy on her from time to time.

Especially during long stretches of solitude like this one.

Goose saunters over to you and spills over your feet belly-up with a lazy "meow," a prime position for scratches.

"Goose is probably stoked to get scritches from someone other than me," Carol quips into the mouth of her beer.

"I could do this all day," you say without a second thought and Carol's smile reaches her eyes.

"Carol, I want my agent back," Fury chimes in over comms.

"I'll think about it," Carol says coolly as she takes a swig from her beer, you stand up out of habit from hearing Fury's voice.

"He's right, I should probably go, there's going to be million things to do now that comms are back up."

"Of course, let me walk you out," Carol sets her bottle down and leads you to the doorway. Seems like you only walked through there a few minutes ago. Time is playing tricks on you, it seems.

"Stay safe out there," Carol says.

"You too, Carol," you trade smiles, committing hers to memory by the time she pulls you in for a hug.

"Thank you," she whispers, hugging you tighter for a few seconds before finally letting you go.

----------------

"So?" Fury is the first to greet you when you arrive at the station.

"Pretending comms is down just to give her human interaction is kind of evil...yet genius," you shake your head with a smile.

"I know she gets lonely out there, she'll never admit it. This is the least I can do," he shrugs before turning on his heel. He walks a few steps before turning to you again.

"Same time next month, agent y/n?"

"Of course sir."

He gives you a curt nod with a knowing smirk before finally leaving.

#works #alright #im gonna let you in on a secret #captain marvel is my all time favorite superhero #which is why it's taken me forever to write something for her #she's a point-fiver for me so it's hard to fathom writing anything for her #but here's an attempt #carol danvers #captain marvel #carol x reader #captain marvel x you #carol x you #captain marvel x reader #carol danvers x reader

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taming-bats · 11 months ago

Text

Batfam Crime Family Breakdown

I made a Crime Family au for a OC fic I'm writing, but the dynamics were too interesting to pass up diving into.

So, I present to you the Mask Family! #1 Crime monopoly in Gotham. Descriptions for Alfred, Dick, Jason, Tim and Damian are under the cut!

Bruce - AKA Black Mask. Head of the Crime family, and basically king of Gotham. After his parents were killed when he was a young boy and was handed a multi-million dollar company at the age of 9, he had focused on a sense of control. He sees Gotham/Gothamites like they can’t help it, and simply don’t know any better. He will know better for them. Other people might have similar backgrounds or share his feelings on the idea of protecting the city from itself, bu no one has the resources he does, nor the determination to do something.

He created the alias of the Black Mask and infiltrated every underground and back alley system until he runs them all. Bruce Wayne and Black Mask basically are the monopoly of night and day in Gotham. You can’t go anywhere without seeing their influence. He’s brutal when it comes to insubordination or even the hint of mutiny. Truly thinks he’s doing the right thing to keep crime as low as possible. Think’s he is doing what he can to protect his family and his city. He’s softened over the years due to his family, and because he’s grown his network where he never has to get his hands dirty unless he wants to. Loves his kids dearly though is tough on them when it comes to the family business.

“Mr. Wayne! Could you give us a comment on the recent movements of the Black Mask? Does it pain you to share your city with such a ruthless man?”

Bruce Wayne gives a smile, that tight, pained one he gives whenever reports ask about the Crime Lord. The media eats it up. No matter what he says, they read into his expression and think it must be heartbreaking for him to know not even he could touch the King of Gotham.

Alfred - AKA Agent Alpha. Like canon, he follows Bruce down the path he takes. In the first couple years of Bruce’s building of the Mask, he voiced his concerns about Bruce’s methods. However, having been trained in special ops himself, he understood that while some situations required a skilled hand, others required a boot to the neck. He adapted and became the guiding hand Bruce needed, and is still Bruce’s number one confidant and ally.

“Black Mask? Black Mask!” the comm had crackled dead in Alfred ear. He huffs and pushes himself up out of the chair. That boy was going to get himself killed in this mission of his. Drug dealers and gang members- What would Martha and Thomas think if they could see the two of them now?

Alfred does not let himself linger long on the thought as he grabs the keys and his own version of the Mask. No matter his hesitance at the start, he knew that there was no stopping Bruce now that he has his mind to it. He would save this city or die trying. He grabs his shotgun off the wall.

Dick - (24) AKA Blue Mask. First to come into the Mask family. His story here is the same for the most part. Some mob tried to take control of the circus- since it's traveling it's not technically in Black Mask’s territory. They are wrong <3. Feeling responsible for not having enough control to prevent the Grayson murders, Bruce Wayne fosters and adopts Dick Grasyon. However, Bruce in this iteration is more open with sharing his secret with Dick as he sees himself in the young boy. He invites Dick to join his crusade to help the city, and let’s Dick be the one to pull the trigger against the men who killed his family. It’s cathartic for the both of them, and a very cementing bonding experience. Dick is Bruce’s shadow for most of his young life, seeing Bruce in his most brutal/hands on years. At some point, Dick “graduates” to having a Mask of his own, and is now Blue Mask.

Dick stays in Gotham in this au. Dick is the eldest of the Mask family and loves his growing family dearly. He learned quickly about the lengths one should go to to protect the ones they love. To him, all of his siblings are the same age as when they entered the house. They are his babies and he will murder for them. He is Bruce’s number one informant.

“There you go, little wing! Hold it just like that and keep your shoulders back. When you feel ready, pull the trigger.” His hands give an encouraging squeeze to his brother's shoulders before taking a step back. He watches as Jason takes a breath and pulls the trigger. He catches him with a laugh when the kickback jolts his small frame. “Good job! That looked like a headshot to me, you're a natural!” Jason looked up at him with shining eyes, and Dick looked back with all the pride in the world. “Let’s show Bruce.”

Jason - (19) AKA Red Mask. Bruce found him on the streets when he was young- Yes, he was stealing from THE Black Mask and yes, Jason fought with a tire iron and claws to get away from him at the start. Jason thought Black Mask would make an example out of him, show that even kids weren’t an exception in Gotham. But Bruce took one look at the small, malnourished but resilient boy and fell in love with him. Jason, to Bruce, represents all the kids that he was too late to save. But he could save Jason. Bruce brought him home and exposed his secret immediately, as if Jason was already his son. The reasons Jason stayed were years behind them now, and he’s proven himself time and time again to be Bruce’s perfect foot soldier. He trained under Dick and Bruce and was rewarded with the title and role of a Mask much younger than Dick.

Jason and Bruce had a big fight when he was 16 (probably having to do with who would be inheriting the Black Mask role in the future) in which Jason ran away. Knowing all of Black Masks tricks, he’s able to stay under the radar for a little bit less than a year. It breaks Bruce’s heart and infuriates him. He misses his son and is spiraling at the lack of control and is forced to conclude that he’s going to have to punish Jason if/when he finds him. Which he does, but more on that later. At the present day, Bruce and Jason still butt heads in Jason’s attempt to prove that he can be a leader if Bruce just lets him. Bruce is content in keeping the boys in the roles they have for as long as he can. There are many debates on which Mask was the most intimidating, but everyone can agree that you never want Red Mask to be sent after you.

“I’ll take the lower Eastside-”

“Good idea.” Black Mask cuts him off, “Blue, you’re with Red tonight.”

“What?” Jason snaps, “No way, I can do it by myself.” Black Mask gives him a look that Jason can decipher even through the unchanging skull mask. This wasn’t the night to start a debate. Jason clicks his teeth, “Fine.” Black Mask gives him a pat on the head as he passes and a burning of embarrassment and fulfillment comes from the approval. He slaps away Blue’s hand when he tries to copy the movement, to which Dick whines with disappointment.

Tim - (17) AKA Yellow Mask. When Gotham sees a heavy crack down for a few months, it’s a near complete cut off from the rest of the world. It shows what Black Mask could do, which scares a lot of people. But not Tim Drake. Tim Drake sees the opportunity for what it is. Unlike the rest of the world, who haven't a clue about the why, 10 year old Tim Drake marches up to Wayne Manor and asks to speak to Black Mask himself. Tim, the child, had known about the Mask family identity for a full year. And now Tim, the child, was offering to help Black Mask, the Crime Lord. Because Tim Drake knew where Jason was. Tim had known the entire time (a fact that Tim does not share.)

(He also doesn’t share the photos. The maps. The red string. He takes his time and eases the family into his presence, and then, into his hobbies.) Tim inserts himself into the Mask Family, brings Jason back, and simply stays. Jason and he have some tension because of this. Tim is happy staying in the shadows of the operation because it gives him a purpose behind all his odd interests and gives him challenges to grow from. He kinda gets the Mask title against his will but secretly is over the moon about it. He wants to be useful. He becomes Wayne Enterprises Co-CEO, and is Bruce’s eyes and ears.

“That's Debbie. She’s the head accountant on the Relay case, 5th floor.” Bruce nods to Tim’s words and Tim pretends not to preen at the knowledge that someone was listening to him. Bruce gives a hum and an ever-so-slight gesture to a man across the room with his glass of scotch. “Oh, Walter. He’s been skimming funds off his department budget for 5 months now. 14th floor.” Bruce raises an eyebrow and looks at him. “He’ll get cocky soon. See the watch? He bought it this week. That's nothing compared to what his internet history suggests.”

Damian - (12) AKA Green Mask. There’s not much to change here. Damian came into Bruce’s life at 8, already trained to kill. Something of a gift from the al Gul’s. Damian is just as brutal as Bruce was in his early years, but Bruce focuses on helping Damian be a child again. All Bruce wants is to be close with his son, much to Damian’s early protests. Bruce is terrible about spoiling Damian and letting him get away with things because Damian is the baby of the family. Because of this, Damian is Bruce’s trigger. Especially for the jobs that have to be done swiftly and quietly.

Damian realizes that there is more to learn then ways to kill, and learns from Dick about the ways of manipulation, how to present oneself to get what you want. With this, Damian often acts younger than he is to appear innocent and lovable. He tried to kill each one of Bruce’s kids at least once when he first came into the house, but after several impressive retaliations, Damian has seen their strength and recognizes how much he can learn from them. The caring nicknames and affectionate hugs were things that he pretends to only tolerate, but he becomes insufferable if he doesn’t receive affection from them.

“But Father, you promised!” Damian stamps his foot, letting the echo of the cave give the action more grandiose than it actually felt. Bruce responds to his childish outbursts more than his calculative reasoning.

Bruce sighs, kneeling down and cupping Damian’s face with gentle hands, “Yes, I know, Dami. But that was before you handcuffed Tim to the stairway railing for three hours.”

Damian crosses his arms and sets a pout to his lips, “He could have gotten out of them if he wanted to,” He mumbles.

“That is not the point and you know that, darling.”

________________________

Bonus:

Damian texting at 1am after not receiving a single pat on the head from his brothers all day: inshallah you will wake in the depths of nightmares most vile

Dick a millisecond later: bb bat wdym?? :(

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