#so the other teams didn’t know what they were saying

[dawnwriterimagines]

Rewriting Part 5 of Traitors Among Us

CLEAR SKIES (A Rewrite)

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY x FEM!READER TASK FORCE 141 x PLATONIC!FEM!READER Rewrite of PART 5 of Traitors Among Us

Traitors Among Us Masterlist

Summary: With your resignation approved, Price discovers you've resigned. You head back to begin to pack your life away from Task Force 141, running into those who've betrayed you.

Author Note: Soooo, I decided to rewrite Clear Skies: part 5 of Traitors Among Us because...I didn't like it as much lol, and it wasn't received as nicely as the other parts. It's pretty much completely different lol. So, here I am rewriting this part! Don't worry, the multiple endings of Traitors Among Us will be releasing very soon...

If you liked this would you Buy me a Coffee?

---

Silence filled the air in the Chief Officer’s office, thick with tension. Captain John Price stood rigid, arms crossed, eyes locked on Laswell as she calmly sipped from her tea, her lips set in an almost casual line. He’d expected a straightforward debrief, not this.

“You did what?” Price’s voice was low, disbelieving. His brow furrowed, the anger creeping in like a slow burn.

Having arrived at the administrative building, delivering his mission reports and making his way into Laswell's office. Captain John Price wasn't expecting to receive the surprising news so casually that the woman in front of him had signed off on your resignation, without so much as consulting with him, your Captain.

"I gave her what she wanted, John," Laswell rolled her eyes, sitting in her seat. "I let her go. She was never about to meet with you, and I won't let a soldier like that leave, under my supervision, without some type of severance," she speaks, casually, tapping her spoon of tea along the rim of a porcelain mug. "I do apologize, I was actually preparing a better way to tell you this. Time got away from me, I suppose." Although, Laswell says so unapologetically as she takes her first sip with a hum.

Price blinked, caught off guard by the detached nature of her words. He shook his head slowly, still processing.

"Severance?" Price gritted. "She didn't lose her place on the force, Laswell. She's on temporary leave for recovery not discharged--I would've never--"

"Oh, stop it, John," Sweeping away a few locks of hair, Laswell sits back in her chair. "Even if, would it matter? The girl's petrified of you, if she saw you she might actually kill you," she can't help but release a humored hum. "Willing to turn down her pension, her insurance, just to resign in peace.

She would've never come to you, and you were foolish enough to think she'd stay," she laughs this time at the absurdity of it. "She wanted an out," she takes another sip, shrugging. "I gave it to her." She then slides a few papers her way, preparing to continue her paperwork, interrupted for the second time today.

Slamming a hand over the stack of papers, Price can't contain the expression twisting his face, his anger, his grief. "Let her what?! You stripped her of her title, does she know that? There is no lawful resignation without my signature, what've you done?"

"Well, you are in need of a Demolition Operative now, I will say," she hummed, tapping the spoon against the rim of her mug, her voice annoyingly casual. "I already have someone in mind, luckily for you."

"Operative Gray is an integral part of this Task Force, it's not up to you how I handle my team anywhere outside of our missions, Laswell," Price hardly held his tone.

“Funny, John,” Laswell mused, not looking up, her voice dripping with dry amusement. “I seem to remember you handling a certain... situation under my orders.” Her eyes met his now, sharp and calculating. "Just fine."

Price’s jaw tightened, and the old guilt gnawed at him. “The worst mistake I’ve made on the force.” His voice was quiet but raw.

Laswell’s smile didn’t fade a bit. “No, John,” she said softly, her tone almost teasing now. “Your mistake is thinking you have any authority here that I don’t already have.”

Price froze for a moment, the weight of her words sinking in. He reached for the papers on the desk, his hand curling into a fist before he let them go. Laswell slid the stack back across the desk with a single, deliberate motion, then stood up.

As she passed him, her shoulder brushed against his, and he stiffened, barely holding himself together.

“Oh, John,” she said, almost too sweetly. “The military is engrained in all of us. In your blood. In hers. Don’t worry,” she hummed, tapping the edge of a file. “She’ll be back. They always come back. In one way or another.”

"Well..." Laswell shrugs, calmly. "Just never to Task Force 141," she turns back to Captain Price, dismissed him with a wave, leaning back in her chair., slipping a file from her desk. "Not like that wasn't the original plan before our informant came clean, hm?"

Wary, grieving eyes drift away from the Station Chief, chest tight. "Well what about Gray?" Price swallows. "I can't allow her to leave without everything she deserves from her service, I won't."

"Christ, John, you take the fun out of everything nowadays." Laswell’s smirk faded into something more calculating, more serious, before rolling her eyes. "We'll hold off on that for now," before Price can interject, she holds up a new folder, stamped a harsh red CLASSIFIED, it glares up at him. "You and your team have other matters to discuss."

Price hesitated, brows furrowed. He took the folder, the tension in his muscles still tight. He opened it quickly, scanning the document with a sharp eye. His face darkened as he read, the information weighing a heavy burden, but nothing he could say was undeserved.

Lips pressing tight together, John Price presses down into the folder hard, creasing the papers and clenching his jaw. Fuck.

---

The sliding doors open automatically, the lobby going quiet at the sight of your sopping wet figure stumbling through the entrance. Dropping your hands from over your head, you pause to stare down those who held eye contact too comfortably, quickly their stares dropped.

Entering the residential building, it's nearly midnight, the mess halls still quite lively, soldiers prepping for their next mission or staying guard in the halls. Your boots squeak with every step unwarrantedly, trailing a puddle as you shuffle your way down the hallway, face flushed cold from the rain.

The hall seems much too long suddenly, the wet squeak along the marble floor, the damp cling of your clothes to your skin, the uncomfortable twist of your brace around your legs, the pruning of your fingers. You were ready to just lock yourself away in your room, pack and never see even the silhouette of this place ever again.

Rushing to the elevator, ignoring the whispers, the burning eyes on the back of your head, you rub your clothed arms to warm yourself up, soaked to the bone. Stealing a jacket from one of the racks before leaving the building, it wasn't as insulated as you'd hoped but it was better than nothing, or Kyle's pity wear.

Pressing the upper arrow, you wait for it to light up.

It doesn't.

So you press it again. This time it does glow, finally.

...But, no opening.

You wait a few seconds, then check the electronic number above.

1.

First Floor.

You press the arrow again. Waiting for the doors to open.

Clearing your throat, you press down on the down arrow this time. Just open up.

Nothing again.

Motherfucker...

A few heads turn while you press the buttons on the elevator one too many times, taking a breath as you continue to tap on the buttons along the panel. You didn't care as long as it would just open. Up. Down. Up. Up. Up. Down. Fucking somewhere, just open the fuck UP!

"Just fuckin open..." you grit out, attempting to keep your nerves down. For all you knew, Simon or Price, or Kyle or Johnny, could've seen you enter the building, they could be walking up to you right now. The very thought had you anxiously holding down on the elevator buttons, contemplating the stairs but walking was already a hassle with your brace. "Open. Open, open, open!"

"Open!" Your fist coming up in frustration to slam into the panel, the metal creaks and bends back but it doesn't make the elevator go any faster. It does hurt your hand though.

Taking your now sore fingers into your grip, pressing into your knuckles, your nostrils flare and you take a breath. You don't dare turn around as you hear the chuckle behind you, you can feel your teeth already grinding to nubs.

"So, you're the reason this thing breaks down every week, huh?" sliding up next to you, a soldier, lieutenant by the single silver bar on the shoulder of his uniform, his kevlar unhooked and new, prepping for departure. "Ya know, you can't make it go any faster that way?" nodding to the dented panel, before flashing a charmed smile your way.

Narrowed eyes link with his. "Excuse me?"

For a moment, all he can do is stare back, words lost on his tongue as he darts between your eyes, mesmerized. His smile doesn't drop even as he clear his throat, "I just mean, you'll hurt your...hand."

"Oh, will I? I didn't know that," you wonder, sarcastically. Before, hitting the panel again, a louder bang sounds in the hallway, causing attention. "Maybe I'm doing it wrong." A screw comes loose with a cling, your jaw twitching at the sound as he only huffs a humored sound.

"Yeah," he chuckles briefly as the metal falls with a klunk. "You're quite the mechanic."

"Can I help you, lieutenant?"

"Just a stranger, looking out for another, that's all," the lieutenant says simply.

"Ok, Stranger," you speak, this time turning your back as the elevator finally beeps as it descends to the ground floor. You direct your chin back to where he came. "You can leave now."

He feigned disappointment. "Ouch," he sported a playful grin. "I thought we were getting along pretty well."

"Well I'm sure you've got a flight to catch, don't let a stranger make you late."

"The only stranger I've met worth being late for," he says, genuinely.

"Oh!" Surprised, you glance away from him. "Subtle," you take a step back, uncomfortable with the space between the both of you now. You lean against the edge of the elevator door, it dings again, your knee brace wasn't helping your leg pain at all.

His charming smile fades, brows lifting as he quickly backs off, reading the lines. "Oh, sorry, I-"

"No," you clear your throat, hearing the ding of the elevator behind you. "No, no I'm just..." your hand goes to your ring finger, you used to fidget with your engagement ring all the time, there used to be a tan line imprinting it along your skin, now that same finger was scarred up to the nail. "I'm just not the flirting type right now." Your hand tensing up, balling into a fist, you'd nearly forgotten...

"Ah," He notices, clearing his throat, embarrassed at himself. "You're with someone."

You wanted to scoff at that, not anymore.

"No," Your knuckles cracked. "Just uninterested." Your hand falls to your side. The years you'd spent loving Simon, adoring him, fighting beside him, all that time...it was painful to know it would all just lead up to this. But, it was easier now to just feel nothing because it ended such a way.

The elevator opens and the both of you looks back towards it.

The lieutenant's eyes flicker back to you. "M' sorry," your brows lift in question. "About your...lover."

"He's not dead," you say.

His lips press together, thoughtfully, before nodding once. "Sounds like quite the guy."

"No idea," you scoff, an understatement indeed.

After a moment of silence, the elevator door, with a squeak, beginning to close. The persistent stranger puts his hand out before you have to, fully stopping the closing door before it can seal, taking a large step to catch it.

You froze as he unintentionally corners you, for the moment take him in, analyzing every detail as you'd always done as a soldier. His hair and clothes damp from the rain, cheeks flushed for a reason you weren't sure of.

He reminded you terrifyingly of Simon. Though the two had to be quite different in all capacities besides ranking and muscle definition.

He's tall, wide broad shoulders, a scar curved through his left brow to his temple, green wide eyes and he smelled...warm, was the only way you could describe it. You're sure his skin would feel as so.

You were quite cold from the rain, though you've been freezing ever since that day and you've never gotten past the phantom cold, eager to be warm again.

Not once in this disturbing, cold and humiliating event had you ever felt a moment of comfort. Of warm, loving comfort. A single embrace would destroy your every resolve. Not a minute, not a second, not a breath of warmth.

Your eyes flicker up, surprised to meet his staring back, seemingly taking you in the same way. His hand leaving the opening elevator door, to rest above the wall above your head. He was close enough for you to feel the leather of his kevlar against the back of your hand, for once your first thought wasn't to push someone away. His gaze lingers on the fresh scar beneath your eye, the tinted pink fading in the white of it.

"You shouldn't do that," you breathe.

There's nothing good here left for you anymore.

You're no longer a soldier.

"Do what?" he asked.

No longer apart of the Task Force, no longer apart of any of this.

And the scars you'd be left with just for being here...

Bringing your hand up to your face, running over the raised, ruined skin, your jaw tightening and your lips pressing together. You shift to the side, your hand finding the handle grip along the sides of the elevator doors.

He notices, straightening, awkwardly. Swallowing thickly, "Sorry, I didn't mean to, uh..." he squeezes his fist, as if berating himself internally. "--that's quite the memorabilia." Again his expression twists at his own question, fist squeezing, that was a dumb thing to ask.

"It is," you grazed the tender flesh of your scars. "Isn't it."

"I'm sure you've got quite the story."

Lips pressing together hard, fingers curling into your palm as if your own scars had burned you.

"Um..." going into detail meant a lot of things you didn't want to confront right now, pressing the button for the elevator again, it opens this time. "I appreciate the conversation, stranger. But, you should go."

"I'm sorry-" he realized he'd touched unsavory ground, voice lowered with regret. "I didn't mean..."

"It's fine," you swallowed thickly, taking a breath. "It was nice to meet you truly."

He follows you to the divide of the open elevator as you step in and though the divide, turning to see his face, desperate for a glimpse of yours.

Your stranger speaks soundly. "Wes."

His name you realized, you press your lips together, thoughtfully as he stares at you, not expecting anything in return, seeming peaceful with you just...knowing. The elevator doors slipping closed. You say nothing else, but you can't help but look at him differently, humming softly. You supposed he was no longer a stranger.

"Ok..." you managed a meaningful smile that struggled to begin. "Wes, then."

You could see the relief in the drop of his shoulders.

As the metal doors ding in preparation to close, you catch a glimpse of someone beyond your persistent stranger, as he turns to leave.

An approaching figure that enters the building, exiting the rain with heavy steps, dragging his feet along the marble, a black mask painted white along the curves of his mouth and nose, a skull. Stalking the halls like the ghost he preferred to be, Simon.

And he haunts you as so.

You hardly notice as the doors begin to close, a sinking feeling in your stomach erupting as you made eye contact with Simon Riley.

His slow, deliberate steps become nonexistent, he's instantly rooted to the floor, you were sure he'd even stopped breathing.

Though you felt your blood run cold, your chest squeezing violently with ache, and a rage in your soul that begged you to claw his fucking eyes out and rip out his heart like he'd done to you weeks ago, you didn't freeze.

No, instead your hand comes out, taking the closing end of the elevator door. It pauses with an electronic strain of its gears beneath your resistance, while you stare unblinkingly at your Ghost. And it opens again with a light ding.

Simon's eyes widen a fraction, he straightens noticeably, hopefully. His hand coming up, pulling at his mask, the skulls creasing down to reveal himself to you, but he'd remain as so...your ghost.

"(Y/n)..." you can hear the whisper of your name from his lips, but you've turned from him now.

Stepping forward and off the divide of the elevator, you take Wes by the arm, pulling him back around to you, his eyes are wide in surprise, innocent enough to have never expected more from your encounter and unable to find the nerve to speak smoothly now that you're making a move.

"Sorry..." you breathe to him, before reaching up and pressing your mouth to his.

It's not a messy kiss.

It's hardly a kiss.

But, it gets the message across.

You had loved Simon, completely and utterly. There was no punch or kick you could ever throw at Simon that could convey the collapse of those feelings.

So this, was the next best thing.

As Wes melts into your lips for the brief moment of surprise intimacy of a stranger, you cup the back of his neck, as you've done many times for Simon. Eyes opening to gaze back to your ghost, and as you do, you're not surprised to see him practically looming over the two of you.

He's a mess of himself. A fraction of the man he was before. A ghost of himself.

But, he'd always been a ghost to be feared.

As Wes's hand climbs up to grip at your hair, you retreat back, tucking your hair back and taking a breath.

Your guiltless eyes blink up to Wes, "You should go."

Hardly given a moment to recuperate, still reorganizing the thoughts you'd taken and filled him with all in the seconds you'd spared him with. He, rightfully confused, breathes. "What?"

"She said, you should go."

As Simon speaks, voice heavy with emotion, anger and resentment but most of all hurt, PAIN. Only then do your lungs fill with air again, untainted by the weight of your fears of him, of broken dreams and memories your defiled love.

"My dead lover's risen again," you speak, sarcastically. Staring down the hollow-eyed man, "A ghost."

The metal doors close with a light thud.

And so, maybe you had no fear of him anymore. Maybe you were tired of being frightened. Whatever it was had more guts than you had the energy to have in the last few weeks.

Because the next thing you know, you're shoving past Wes, blood red in the tint of your vision, your fingers expertly popping the gun out of his holster and you take your aim at Simon.

He doesn't flinch.

Neither do you.

Your finger is steady on the trigger. And you pull.

---

The subtle light of the safe house cast shadows across the room, the usual tension of Task Force 141 momentarily replaced by an air of anticipation. Everyone knew but you. Ghost stood slightly apart from the group, his mask hiding the myriad of emotions that flickered beneath. He’d planned this moment carefully and yet being trapped in a safe house during the night of the dinner he'd planned for you both wasn't apart of it. It was still meant to be tonight.

Your lover stared at you in the reflection of the window, catching your beautiful eyes in the glass, they sparkle and his bones feel liquid and he nearly loses his grip on the velvet box. What better time could there be?

Ghost turned to you, pulling his mask away, revealing Simon Riley, garnering your attention with a surprised stare, "What's...goin' on?"

His deep voice steady yet laced with a rare vulnerability. “Wherever you are, I wanna be,” he took a step. "Wherever you go, whether you like it or not, I'm goin' too."

"Stalker," you quipped, though your voice could barely reach a whisper as you stared at the tiny box in his hand, watching as he came closer.

He cracked a smile, but he continued. "Everywhere you are, anywhere you want to be, if you'll let me, since you're right...I just can't stay away," he teased, watching as you short circuit as he approaches steadfast. "...and if you want me, as you'll have me...I wanna be everywhere you are."

The team fell silent, the weight of the moment sinking in. Price raised an eyebrow, an amused smirk dancing on his lips, while Johnny tried to stifle a grin, Kyle cursed quietly shifting in anticipation. "The best thing I've ever held onto in this life is you. It will always be you."

Simon takes the closing steps to you, watching you closely, the two of you sharing the same overwhelming expression, though yours freer in its willingness to express. He was being serious. This was really happening. "I can't imagine taking on this life of chaos without you."

With a small, almost hesitant movement, Simon revealed the velvet box. The flicker of metal caught the light as he produced a small box, his hands surprisingly unsteady. His eyes momentarily flickering downwards before gathering the nerve to look you in the eye again. “We’ve been through hell, we're in the aftermath of it now, another glimpse not far behind, but there’s no one I'll ever know, that I’d rather have by my side.” He dropped to one knee, the rest of the team exchanging glances, a mix of excitement and surprise evident in their expressions. "No one but you."

As Simon kneels before you, your heart races, disbelief clear on your face, brows furrowing into each other, watering as you look to him, all your feelings flooding your senses. His words echo in your mind, and the world around you fades away, leaving just the two of you.

“Marry me...” His voice was firm, yet you could see the vulnerability in his eyes, the way he waited with baited breath, his shoulders halting all movement as he wouldn't take a single breath until your answer. "I'll choose you. I'll choose you every time..." The room held its breath, the only sound the quiet rustle of fabric as the team leaned in slightly, as if to witness a moment that transcended their usual world of warfare. "Marry me..." his voice is a breath against your skin.

You feel your heart race with feelings that seared itself into your soul, a moment that would never leave you, your vision blurred with tears. "Simon..." the world narrowing down to Simon and the hope in his gaze. The silence was palpable, a shared moment of vulnerability among seasoned soldiers. Finally, you nodded, emotions swirling as a smile broke across your face. “Yes,” you laughed with a sob, nodding as you wiped your face. "Of course, Simon. Yes!"

Simon rose, slipping the ring onto your finger as cheers erupted from the team. The laughter and joyful roars of Task Force 141, your family, fade into the background as you focus solely on Simon, the man you love.

Johnny clapped Simon on the back, Price grinned widely, laughing heartily in glee, and Kyle let out a whoop of approval. In that moment, amidst the chaos of their lives, there was a rare glimpse of hope and happiness—a reminder of what they were truly fighting for.

---

The clouds, still held hostage by the night, moved almost imperceptibly through the midnight air, the rain having stopped by now and the stars taking action to be seen beyond.

You breathe evenly, stroking the broken skin of your knuckles, smearing the blood that still leaked through and picking at the dried specks of it along your nails.

Heavy hangs the air as you sit in your silence, nothing but the light scrapes of your nails along your own skin. Then, a heavy padding of footsteps outside the door, your eyes drawing to the movement as a shadow pulls along the flooring of the lighting beneath the doorway, the door clicks open.

A round-faced, army suited man, your attorney, enters the room, behind him two men standing at attention, stomping his dark boots down onto the old wood eager to be noticed, lifting a document to read. "Sergeant (L/N), due to potential endangerment of yourself and your fellow man, you are to be supervised continuously throughout the night until the remainder of your scheduled departure from central Orloz Military Base.

From there, as requested, all contact will be terminated, all personal and packaged requests, terminated. All inquiries, all personal and otherwise familial advises for continued contact, terminated. Due to the nature of your injuries and the unprecedented circumstances brought upon by the events of June 23rd 2023, you've been pardoned from additional..."

What use is there listening to more?

Leaning your head against the cool glass, you let yourself fall blissfully unaware of his voice, drowning in the sea of your own mind.

You stare down at the scars enveloping your hands, your wrists, still raw and sensitive even now. Along your ring finger was the imprint of your engagement ring, it would fade with time, but nothing else would.

You felt so blind, so dumb for thinking this family was ever real, that they were anymore than colleagues, soldiers of war. An idiot for believing in Ghost, believing that he was more than the soldier you'd fought beside for a decade.

Who would've thought things would've turned out this way.

The weight of everything—the heartbreak, the disappointments—were pressing down on your chest like a block of cement.

Letting the absent, warm tears fall down your cheeks, soaking into the dampness of your shirt.

You press your palms into your thighs, trying to ground yourself, but the overwhelming feeling spiraled further, tightening your throat till it hurt.

So, when he leaves, claiming to be back to escort you back to your quarters, you sit there. You sat there for hours. Or maybe it just felt like it. Either way, it didn't matter.

This time tomorrow you'd be off base, no longer a soldier but a citizen of no one, with no one to turn to and disowned by your family...

What was there to look forward to now?

Your hand comes up, tracing the water lines running down the glass, the ray of light from the street lamps that burn into the room, stinging at your eyes and lighting up the evening.

A streak of red follows your stained fingers.

Dried blood melting off your skin and running down the glass, falling slow.

Nothing to look forward to at all...

Multiple Endings coming soon. The end of Traitors Among Us... STAY TUNED

[13uswntimagines]

All In My Head (Alessia Russo X Singer!r)

Part III of the Safe Harbor Universe. Find other parts here

Summary: Being Sick on tour sucks, but that doesn't mean that you want your team to inform your girlfriend. She has her own career to think about. The problem is that honesty is rule number 1 in your relationship.

Warnings: there is mention of a D/s dynamic, but nothing is super explicit. Alessia is referred to as daddy.

Authors note: Yes the ending is a cliffhanger. But this has honestly been in my drafts since like August, so i wanted to put it out. I'm considering a Pt. 2, but it will depend on if people want it. I really hope you enjoy it, and let me know what you think.

You sighed heavily, leaning against the stadium's cool stone wall and twisting the bracelet around your wrist. 

Which stadium, you couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter, really. They all looked the same after a while anyway, blurring together in the never-ending cycle of rehearsals, performances, interviews, and meet and greets. 

All your life seemed to be was performing and promoting music you weren’t even excited about anymore. It was a nonstop grind filled with late nights and early mornings, with almost no time for your well-being. 

You almost wished your girlfriend had implemented a rule that placed a limit on how much you could do. At least that would give you the power to say no. 

You did your best. 

You squeezed in as many phone calls with your girlfriend, Alessia as you could, but she had her own commitments with the Lionesses as they prepared to defend their European championship.

Most of the time you ended up passing out over FaceTime, and waking up to texts telling you she loved you. 

You understood. You both had careers and obligations. You both had to make sacrifices to get to do the things you loved. 

It was… intense, but for the most part, you enjoyed it. You loved playing for the fans. You would deal with all the promotional bs just so you could interact with the people who loved your music as much as possible. 

They deserved that. 

And this tour had been going far better than the ones you had been on before it. You were holding it all together far better than you had in the past. 

Or it had been. 

It all started with a slight tickle in your throat in the city before last. A whisper of huskiness that went away with a nice steam session and some tea. 

It was easy to ignore in the beginning. 

Then you played 4 shows back to back last weekend. 

By the end of the 3rd show, you knew you were screwed, you could barely muster a horse whisper. Alessia had commented that you sounded like a chain smoker, your first sign that she was seeing through you, but you assured her you would be fine. You even joked that you had enough throat coat and grether's pastilles to turn her off for a year. She let you soothe her worries. 

You pushed on, powered my menthol lozenges and Honey, and you made it through the 4th show. 

It would have been fine. It shouldn’t have mattered that your ability to make any sound at all was hanging on by a thread. The 5 days off you had should have been enough to set everything right.

Except you didn’t have 5 days off. 

It was filled with promotional performances for a new album and interviews about how well it would accompany the movie it was attached to. If someone else asked you about how it felt about the possibility of an Oscar nod, you were going to scream. Or rip all of your hair out or both.

The tickle had turned to hot nails, and nothing - not the steam machine or tea and honey - had the power to soothe it. 

You sounded like you were talking through gravel, and your team had been hesitant to even let you go on tonight. 

Alessia definitely would not have, if she knew how bad it really was. You started avoiding her two days ago after you couldn’t make it through a sentence without a crack, and you couldn’t continue to blame the low whistle that accompanied every one of your breaths on allergies. 

You knew going in that performing tonight wasn’t a great idea, but you refused to let the fans down. There were only 4 shows left. Surely you could make it. 

The entire show felt like a battle. 

You had to fight for every note. For every breath. 

Your lungs felt like they were on fire and your throat was raw before you even got to the piano set. 

It took everything in you to hide the thinness in your voice. To prevent every sound from cracking as you forced each lyric out. 

It was…rough to say the least. 

But you made it- even if it was only by the skin of your teeth. 

You were shot by the time you did your final bow and disappeared backstage. You ignored the cold Gatorade being pressed into your palms, knowing it would only aggravate the glass shards in your throat, and shrugged off Steven and Clint. 

You didn’t need their concern, you needed to escape the roaring in your ears. The pounding in your chest. 

So you took turn after turn until you were in an abandoned section of hallways. 

You sighed, grasping at your throat as you slid down the cool wall, pulling your knees to your chest and pressing your forehead into the rough material of your costume to drown out the pounding in your head. Your fingers tangled in the hair at the back of your head and you groaned. 

The sound felt like hot coals in your throat, and it made your chest ache. 

You feared that no amount of steam, or tea, or pastilles would stop it this time. 

The cold bricks of the stadium felt nice against your skin, leaching the heat from your body, though it did nothing to help the fire in your chest. 

A fire that was quickly moving past the gray areas in your agreement with Alessia, and into a place that your daddy would definitely have something to say about. 

You were treating your limits with her like a tightrope, carefully toeing the edge. Except with the way you felt, you knew you were about to topple one way or the other. 

You ignored the sounds of clicking shoes coming closer, hoping that whoever it was wouldn’t see you. That they would leave you be to pull the cracked pieces of yourself back together. 

But your team knew better than to leave you to your own devices.

“Y/n?”

You tensed at the soft hand on your shoulders, and the sound of shifting clothing as someone settled on the ground beside you. 

“You ok, kid?” Natasha asked softly, running soothing circles on the top of your shoulders. 

You let out another breath before you pulled your face from its hiding spot, resting your chin on your knees. “I’m ok. Just wanted some quiet,”

You frowned at the horse whisper that left your lips, and the flair of pain that accompanied it. 

Natasha hummed. 

She had been part of your team from the beginning, back when you were a dumb 16-year-old, long before Pepper, Tony, Steve and the rest of the crew had joined, and she knew you nearly as well as Alessia did. 

She raised an eyebrow at you. “Just some quiet?” 

You knew that wasn’t what she was actually asking. 

The question went much deeper. 

She knew about your… dynamic with Alessia, and she had seen the striker take care of you in various ways. She was asking you what you needed. 

You nodded, looking away from her, afraid that she would see through you. 

“I needed a minute,” You said, your voice barely a squeak. “It was all too much, and I wanted to be alone before I got pulled into something else,”

She made a low sound at the familiar explanation. “And this has nothing to do with how you sound like you’re gargling rocks?”

You grimaced. “Nothing at all,”

She hummed. “So you’re not in any pain at all?”

“Nope,” You breathed out, the p the only clear part of the word. 

“Y/n,” She sighed. “I know you have an… aversion to admitting when you’re not… at the top of your game, but pushing yourself isn’t going to help anything. You don’t have anything to prove here,”

You ran a hand through your hair and rolled your eyes dramatically at her. She chuckled at the action. 

“There are only 3 more shows,” You said. “I can make it 3 more shows,”

“And how would Alessia feel if she knew you were going to put your comfort aside for 3 more shows?” Natasha asked softly. “And not just your comfort, your health. You sound like shit,”

You huffed at the mention of your girlfriend, your fingers instinctively finding the braided bracelet that never left your wrist. 

You knew how she would feel. You could practically hear what she would say. I expect you to take care of the things that belong to me. I expect you to treat them with respect and give them the love and care they deserve. 

“I’ve got it all under control,” You rasped, wincing at the action. 

It was Natasha’s turn to roll her eyes. “Sure you do. Since you have it all under control, you’ll stop ignoring your girlfriend,” She pulled the device out of her back pocket and balanced it on top of your knees. “She’s been blowing up your phone all day. I think she’s worried,” 

You stared at the phone, and as if on cue, it buzzed again with a new message. 

Alessia was going to be furious with you, and your daddy would be on another level entirely. 

She was usually the one to take the reigns when you were set on driving yourself into oblivion for the benefit of everyone else. But she wasn’t here. 

You sighed heavily. 

You knew that if you told her, she would drop everything. She would move heaven and earth if that was what you needed. 

You didn’t want that. 

She needed to focus on her game, and that meant that you couldn’t be a distraction. You would not disappoint her. Not when you were so close to finishing. 

“She needs to focus,” You mumbled, your voice straining. “She’s gotta impress Sarina to make the team. It’s important,”

“I think you forget that you are also important,” Natasha argued back softly, patting your back before carefully pushing herself to her feet. “I’m going to have Pepper cancel the meet and greet. You’re in no shape to meet fans. I should also have her call a doctor, but I already know you’ll fight me on it,” 

You frowned. You never sold meet and greet tickets, choosing to instead have your team select fans at each show. 

“But-“ 

She held up her hand before you could argue. “That isn’t up for debate. Get rest tonight, and we’ll assess tomorrow in the morning.”

Your jaw clenched, but you nodded, knowing there was no arguing with her. 

“I know the world thinks you’re superhuman, but it’s ok not to be indestructible,” She said, softly. “You need to remember to be Clarke Kent sometimes too. There’s a reason Lois fell in love with him first,”

With that, she walked away, leaving you alone with your thoughts. 

The silence of the empty hallway wasn’t as welcoming as it had been. It didn’t quiet your thoughts like it had. 

Instead, it felt suffocating. Like the walls were closing in on you, trapping you in your misery. 

You sighed another painful breath, before you grabbed your phone, reading the top notification, longing not to feel so…alone. 

Hey babe, caught the end of your show on a random livestream. Are we still on for our FaceTime tonight?

You let your head fall back, thumping the wall. 

Everything in you longed to say yes.

But you couldn’t. You wouldn’t. 

It was still nice to fantasize about seeing her. About hearing her say ‘Hello my little one,’ with a soft smile that brought out her dimples. If you closed your eyes you could almost feel the pressure of her fingers on the back of your neck, running through the baby hairs that lived there. ‘I’m here, and I’ve got you,’

You let your mind linger there for a long second before you forced your eyes back open. 

It took you three tries to type out your reply: sorry darling, I’m super tired. Rain check?

And you paused, your trembling finger over the send button, knowing you shouldn’t send it, but hitting the little blue arrow anyway. 

It was awful but necessary. 

You let out another long, ragged breath before you forced yourself to your feet and shoved your phone into your pocket, so you didn’t have to see her reply. You leaned heavily on the wall, no longer enjoying how it sucked the warmth from your skin, but using it to stay upright as the entire hallway tilted to the side. 

You should go back to your dressing room before Steve sent out a search party. Dealing with Nat was one thing, dealing with the overprotective instincts of Steve, Clint, and Thor was another. 

You didn’t have the mental capacity for that, and maybe your dressing room couldn’t make you feel like there was a rope on your lungs, dragging out your soul.

*****

You were not particular about a lot of things when you were on tour. You didn’t care about the size of your hotel room or the cars you were shuttled around in. You didn’t request overly expensive foods or special bubbly waters. 

The only thing on your rider that you were very specific about was your dressing room. 

It was your sanctuary away from the noise. A place you would spend more time in than your hotel room. 

It was important to you that it was always the same. Lit with twinkling fairy lights, the comfy gray couch that followed you on every tour stop standing near the table with your kettle and vocal steamer, and a diffuser already filling the room with the soft scent of lavender and honey. 

It filled your lungs the second you stepped through the door, wiping away the burning ache that accompanied every breath for just a second. Reminding you for one fleeting moment of the honeysuckle of Alessia’s favorite shampoo (the reason she picked the essential oil blend to begin with), before the knives returned to your chest. 

You rubbed your knuckles over your sternum to quell the feeling, stumbling over to the couch and collapsing into it. 

You pressed your nose into the soft gray material, wishing that you had grabbed the bright red sweatshirt you stole from your girlfriend when you last saw her. The smell of her perfume was beginning to fade, but it wasn’t gone yet, and there was a distinct longing in your stomach to be close to her. Even if you were the reason there was any space to begin with. 

You could hear your kettle bubbling next to you, and you knew you should make yourself some tea to soothe the sharp edges in your windpipe, but the thought of moving felt like too much. 

Instead, you sunk into the couch, your arm dangling off the cushion, your fingers brushing the ugly red carpet. 

You felt your phone buzz in your pocket, and you didn’t have to look to know who was texting you. Still, the urge to see what she would say was too great for you to ignore it. 

It took all of your strength to move your heavy arm to your pocket and pull out your phone. Your fingers fumbled over the screen as you squinted at the device with the eye not pressed into the couch. 

The light made the throbbing in your head worse, and the words written on the screen made your lungs constrict.

Ok, my love. Are you sure everything is alright? This is the 3rd time this week.

You could almost hear the worry in her voice. See the suspicion in her blue eyes. 

They never failed to see through you. To strip away your exterior and leave you vulnerable and raw beneath them. It never made you feel exposed, even in the beginning when the two of you decided to extend your dynamic beyond your bedroom. Instead, you felt seen and safe. 

Sometimes she liked to have to work for your submission. She liked to peel away each layer of you one by one until you were a trembling mess beneath her. Open and vulnerable in a way no one else ever got to see you. 

Other times, you gave your submission willingly, stripping off your public persona like a dirty shirt and allowing her to envelop you in her warm comfort. 

How much you wanted that. How much you needed it. 

It was a desperation that filled your entire being. 

Before you could process what you were doing, you had already pressed her contact photo and brought the now-ringing phone to your ear. 

You laid the device on the side of your head and let your arm go back to dangling. It was too heavy to hold. 

It only rang twice before her voice filled your ears. 

“Hey my love,” She said, worry and relief mingling strangely in her tone. “I’m so happy you called me. How are you?”

Her voice washed over you like a soothing wave, like a balm on the sharp edges of your nerves, though it did little to help the fire in your lungs and throat. 

You pressed your nose into the couch, pretending that it was her shoulder for just a second. That the honey and lavender surrounding you was her perfume. That she was here. 

“Y/n, are you there?” She asked, and you opened your mouth to respond, but the words just wouldn’t come out. 

You couldn’t force any sound, beyond a low whistle past your inflamed throat. Your lungs crackled with each breath. 

Your inability to make sound didn’t bother you as much as it should have. 

“Y/n? Did you butt-dial me?” Alessia asked again, and you could almost feel her running her nails through your hair, gently scratching your scalp. “I’m worried,”

The words were said with too much force, not at all the soft murmur your brain had been waiting to hear. 

It shook you out of your haze just enough for you to reach up and grab your phone, clicking the decline button too fast. 

You let the phone drop to the floor with a low thump as it immediately began to ring again. 

Your fingers twitched above the screen, but you didn’t have the strength to reach for it, even as it lit up again with your girlfriend's contact photo. 

Well, it was a photo of the two of you. You were curled up in her lap, in one of her blue UNC sweatshirts that were too big, and she was kissing the side of your head. 

It had been taken after a particularly grueling day in the studio. It was Alessia’s turn to host team bonding night. You didn’t remember exactly who took the picture, Leah or Lotte, maybe, but it was one of your favorites.

What the camera didn’t catch was that your arms were not in the sleeves. Instead, they were tied with intricate knots behind your back, hidden by the sweatshirt. 

It was something the two of you often did, and it was one of her go-to's when you were starting to spiral out of control. 

A part of you longed for the feeling of the knots now, and her fingers twisting the soft rope against your skin. 

Sure, the weight of your bracelet was nice, but it wasn’t enough. 

You let out a wheezing breath that crackled and hurt. 

If you asked, she would be here. She would wrap you up and pull you from your free fall. 

It took you a long second to remember why you couldn’t have that. 

Alessia had a job to do, and you wouldn’t stand in the way of that. 

The phone buzzed again against the ugly carpet, the little voicemail icon flashing. You doubted you would be able to resist calling her back if you listened to it.  

Still, you had to do something. 

So you flicked the screen with one finger, going to your messages, and typing out words that felt fake, even to you. 

Sorry, I’m ok. Just tired. I’ll call you tomorrow after the game. Love you.

You clicked send before you could overthink it though, or your trembling fingers could betray you and type out the truth. You laid your head back down on the couch, curling into yourself as a painful cough forced its way past your lips. 

You weren’t sure how long you laid there, shivering before there was a soft knock at the door, and then the little click as it opened. 

A part of your brain hoped that it would be Alessia. That she had read your mind and somehow teleported to whatever city you were in. 

But the feeling of gentle fingers on the top of your shoulders told you that it wasn’t. 

“Y/n?” Natasha asked, very close to your ear, and you blinked up at her. 

You didn’t remember closing your eyes. 

“Hm?” You hummed, the sound raw and painful. 

“Let’s get you changed, and then we can go back to the hotel and you can sleep,” She said, placing a hand under your armpit and guiding you to a sitting position. 

The tiny movement had coughs ripping past your lips. 

She held you steady with one hand and grabbed you a change of clothes with the other. 

“Easy,” She breathed out, carefully unbuttoning your shirt and pulling it from your sweaty skin. 

She left you shirtless for a long second as she disappeared into your bathroom, and the cool air of the dressing room felt nice on your overheated skin. 

It didn’t bother you. Natasha had seen you in far less clothing than your sports bra and underwear. 

She returned only a moment later with a towel, using it to dry you off before she slipped a light blue t-shirt with a foot on the back over your head. 

The pants took a little more wiggling, but eventually, she was able to get you out of your costume and into a pair of sweats that were far too big for you.

She slid a pair of Converse onto your feet, scooping up your phone and tucking it into her pocket. 

“Let’s get you to the car,” She guided you to stand, keeping an arm wrapped tightly around you. 

“People?” You asked, leaning more of your weight onto her as she pulled you towards the door. 

You missed her eye roll. 

Of course, all you were worried about right now was who would see you, and what they would think. 

“Not here,” Natasha reassured you gently, opening the door. “Only when we get back to the hotel,”

You made a low, painful sound as she half-carried you into the hallway. 

You still had time before you had to pull yourself together. 

******

The city lights blurred into a distorted kaleidoscope of colors during the short ride back to the hotel. 

The cool glass felt nice against your temple, though it did little to ease the throb in your head or the lava in your throat. 

The feeling of eyes watching you for any wavering in your resolve also wouldn’t go away. You couldn’t be sure if it was worry (that you would puke all over the car or pass out), or concern about what the fans would think when you pulled up to the hotel. 

The whirring of the engine wasn’t loud enough to block out your racing thoughts, but any music was too much for you to handle. 

You were drowning. 

Every breath hurt, but you didn’t know if it was because of the physical pain or the anxiety gnawing at you. 

You didn’t like to upset people. You didn’t like to disappoint them. 

You were a people pleaser to a fault, and this wasn’t the first time you had self-destructed to meet everyone’s expectations. 

But at the end of the day, the person you wanted to please most. The person you wanted to not disappoint the most was Alessia. Was your Daddy. 

You knew you were failing, but you didn’t know how to stop.

The car came to a stop in front of the hotel far too quickly, and not for the first time, you were thankful that the dark tint kept you hidden from public view. 

“Ready, kid?” Steve asked, turning around in the driver's seat to look at you. 

You nodded once, reaching forward and grabbing the sunglasses facing the wrong way on his head, and pulled them over your own eyes. 

You took a deep breath before Clint opened your door, painting your signature smile across your features. 

You didn’t wave when you got out, too focused on keeping yourself upright, as Steve’sarm wrapped around you on one side and Natasha’s did the same on the other. 

You felt safe tucked between them, though they did nothing to shield you from shrill screams and cheers that met you as soon as your feet touched the ground. They amplified the pounding behind your eyes, and the way the crowd pressed around you made it even harder to breathe (not that you thought that was possible). 

You did try to flash the crowd smiles as Natasha and Steve guided you through, Clint protecting your back, and you were thankful your eyes were hidden, despite it being nighttime. 

You never wanted the fans to see the… fakeness. The lie.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when the hotel doors slid closed behind you, placing more of your weight on Steve as Natash called the elevator. 

“You’re burning up kid,” Steve murmured, shifting to get a better grip around your waist. 

You made a low sound, that turned into a full body caught that nearly had you doubling over. “Is that your way of calling me hot Stevie? What would Tony think?”

The words came out garbled, cracking with every syllable as you tried to talk through the coughs. 

Steve’s arm tightened around you to keep you upright. 

“I think he would say that you are sick,” Steve sighed at the mention of his husband, your publicist, taking more of your weight as another round of coughs wracked you. 

You pushed off of him as soon as you could breathe again, even if it felt like sucking air through a straw filled with needles, and swayed your way toward the elevator. 

It binged open as soon as you reached it, and you stumbled inside, gripping the metal bar on the back wall for support, and resting your forehead on the cool wall. 

You could feel the heat of your skin leaching into the surface, but it did little to quell the pounding in your ears or the feeling like everything was tipping on its head. 

Your fingers instinctively found the braided bracelet, running over the soft leather strands. 

However, this time, it didn’t ease the bubbling anxiety and fire in your chest. 

“We’re almost there, and then you can rest,” Natasha said softly, and you felt both her and Steve’s eyes on you as you leaned further into the wall. 

The movement of the elevator was starting to make you nauseous, but you didn’t think you could voice that even if you wanted to. Not with how raw your throat was. 

It took you a second to realize the elevator had stopped, and it wasn’t until Natasha gently touched your shoulder that you began to move again. 

You let Steve guide you out of the elevator and into the hallway. 

Natasha had the door to your suite open before you even got there, and Steve half-carried you to the bed, settling you on the fluffy white comforter. 

Your fingers tangled in the expensive sheets as you fought to keep yourself upright. 

“Do you want to take a shower?” Natasha asked you softly, kneeling in front of you and carefully undoing your sneakers. 

You shook your head slowly, smothering another cough. “Sweatshirt,”

The croaky word hurt as it left your lips, barely audible and surrounded by more lung-crunching coughs. 

But they understood, Steve, passing you a bright red sweatshirt from your bag. 

You brought it to your face and collapsed back onto the bed, breathing in the perfume that clung to the material. 

It burned as it filled your senses, but you could pretend that it soothed the edges of glass in your throat and lungs. You could pretend that it was her taking off your shoes and tucking you in. 

You could pretend that it was all ok and that she wasn’t going to be livid when she found out. Not that you were sick, but that you hadn’t told her immediately. 

You knew you would take whatever punishment she decided you deserved with no questions. She could be rather creative when she was annoyed with you. 

“Let’s get you settled properly,” Natasha said, shifting you on the bed so your head was on the pillows, as Steve moved the covers and tucked them around you. “Rest now, and we’ll deal with the rest in the morning,” 

You groaned, sending more flames down your airway, rolling over and pressing your face more firmly into the sweatshirt. 

You heard the distinctive sound of your phone being plugged in, and the click of the door. 

And then you were alone. 

More alone than you had been in a very long time. 

Even if it was all your own doing, you hadn’t been this disconnected since the beginning of Alessia’s college career, and your first tour with Taylor. The infamous break in your relationship. Even though neither of you had actually experimented with anyone else, and you had texted and called nonstop, you had been hesitant to push too far, to ask for too much. 

You blew out a long breath into her sweatshirt, ignoring the little needles that followed the air, eyes fixed on the phone on your bedside. 

It buzzed again as if it knew you were thinking about it. 

You reached your hand out, pulling it close so you could look at it, but it was still plugged in. 

The movement had the screen lighting up with a string of messages. The one at the top made your heart hurt.

Please don’t ignore me, my Little One. I’m worried.

It said, and you could almost hear the inflection in her tone. You could almost see her eyes softening, and feel her fingers brushing your hair behind your ear. 

You closed your eyes, pressing more deeply into the sweatshirt under your head. 

Your fantasy world was far nicer than the reality you were in, and the universe wouldn’t end if you stayed in it until morning. 

********

Your night was… hazy, filled with half-dreams that were increasingly difficult to distinguish from real life. As the morning light crept its way further and further across the ceiling, you leaned into the sweatshirt slowly losing its smell, one eye peeking out to track its progress. 

It felt like a timer. A countdown clock on the imagined feelings of soothing hands on your back and whispered reassurance that everything would be okay. 

Soon enough the door would open and you would have to be you again. You would have to pretend like each breath you took didn’t feel like a bear was mauling your lungs, and your brain wasn’t a freight train threatening to escape from your skull. 

You would have to deal with the incessant buzzing of your phone that had kept you on the edge of real sleep all night. 

You would have to face your girlfriend. Your daddy. 

You were not looking forward to it. Any of it. 

The only thing that you were semi-excited about was watching your girlfriend play, even through a screen. That had been your only saving grace back when she was in college before the two of you got back together, and you knew it would be your only saving grace now. 

You sighed, rolling over, the sweatshirt falling from its bunched-up place against your cheek, and reaching for the phone still on the corner of the bed next to you. 

It buzzed again as your fingers caught it, and brought it closer so you could see the screen. It was filled with notifications. 

Some were from the group thread you shared with your manager, assistant, and publicist. Some were emails from people you were collaborating with. 

But the majority were from Alessia. 

You couldn’t help but click on the thread. 

You knew it was a mistake immediately. 

Good morning little one. I’ll have some time if you want to FaceTime before the game. I miss you, and I’m worried. You don’t usually ignore me.

It was like an arrow straight through your heart. 

A direct hit to your will. 

You swallowed hard, ignoring how badly it burned, and typed out a message. 

I miss you too. Good luck today. You’re going to do amazing

You dropped your phone after you hit send, deciding that finding the starting 11 wasn’t important anymore, and stared up at the ceiling through half-lidded eyes, pulling the comforter more tightly around you despite the sweat breaking out across your chest. 

You thought it would help the hollow feeling slowly taking over your insides, or the dull throb that accompanied each breath. 

It did not. 

You let your eyes slide back closed, deciding that the light hadn’t transversed far enough across the ceiling for you to need to be awake yet. Not when the pull of sleep was so strong, and the comfort of your half dreams was too difficult to resist. 

“You know I don't like it when you hide from me,” Alessia’s voice said sternly, as though it was right next to your ear, and you felt fingertips graze your lips. 

You didn’t open your eyes. Even amongst the haze that was filling every crack in your brain, you knew she wasn't here. She couldn’t be here. Not when she was back in London about to play some team you couldn’t remember. 

“I know,” You rasped out.  

The fingers gently pulled at your bottom lip before they circled back towards your cheek, and a thumb brushed across your closed eyelid. 

“And you’re still doing it?” She asked, and you felt the air of each word on your ear. 

You shook your head, turning it slightly, hoping to feel her nose bump hers. “You need to focus on the important things,” 

You didn’t come into contact with her, though you knew you should have with the way you shifted. 

“And you are not important to me?” She asked her voice hardening in the way it only did when you were about to receive a punishment. 

An involuntary shiver ran down your spine, and your eyes opened automatically. 

You sucked in a painful breath, blinking blearily at the face above you.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Natasha said quietly, even as your eyes darted around, searching for your girlfriend. “It’s 1, so you need to wake up so we can make a decision about tonight,” 

“Less?” You asked, your voice barely a whisper when you saw that Natasha was the only other person in the room with you. 

Natasha frowned, brushing your hair away from your forehead. “She’s in London, remember? The game against Luxembourg starts soon,” 

Your eyebrows pulled tightly together. You hadn’t remembered that they were playing Luxembourg. 

“She’s starting?” 

“No,” Natasha shook her head. “It’s mostly the young ones starting since the over-under is plus 20 for England,”

Your nose scrunched, and you forced yourself to sit up. “She has to play,”

None of this would be worth it if she never touched the field. 

“I think Serina is using this as more of an identification camp,” Natasha countered, stepping in to help you sit up. “The girls need rest after doing both the Champions League and regular play these last couple of weeks,”

You grunted though it sounded more like a pained wheeze than a grunt. 

Alessia’s schedule had been nearly as insane as your own for the past few months. It was part of the reason you were so… reluctant to bother her with something as trivial as a tickle in your throat. 

“Maybe you should take a page out of her book,” Natasha added. 

Your nostrils flared immediately at the implication. 

Your job was so much less physical than Alessia’s. You didn’t do anything to deserve rest like she did. 

The pressure you both face to perform was inherently different.

She didn’t let down millions of people every time she rode the bench. She wouldn’t crush the dreams of thousands of people if she didn’t take the pitch. 

But still, you could already hear her argument ringing in your head. 

I expect you to care for the things that belong to me as deeply and completely as I do. That includes yourself. Your needs matter, and I will not allow you to disregard them.

“No.” You rasped, none of the bite you meant appearing in the word. 

“Yes,” Natasha countered, shifting the pillows behind you before you leaned back. “There is no way you can perform tonight,”

You huffed, and crossed your arms, glaring at the city beyond the large window to the right of the bed. “People paid-“

“To hear you sing. Not hack your way through a set,” Natasha cut you off. “They’ll be more disappointed if you give them a show that’s not your best. Reschedule the last 3, so they’re worth what they paid,”

Your glare only deepened, and your eyebrows pulled very tightly together as you processed what she was saying (taking a few extra minutes to cut through the thick fog in your brain). 

You knew she was playing on your sensibility. You thought ticket prices were disgusting, and had fought to lower them as much as you could. You had made your show longer in retaliation, so the fans got what they paid for. 

You wouldn’t give them a sub-par show. 

You didn’t look at her but nodded once. 

“I’ll have Tony write a statement. Do you want to approve it before it goes out?” She asked, her voice gentle. 

You shook your head, your lips pursing. 

“We’ll release it then, and I’ll call a doctor so we can get you some real medication,” The redhead continued, ignoring the deep frown pulling at your features. 

It wasn’t that you were trying to be difficult. You just knew what would happen the second the people staked outside of your hotel caught sight of a doctor. 

But now you felt like you didn’t have a choice, and not in the fun way.

“Fine,” You muttered, a hacking cough following it. 

Natasha patted your back until the coughing stopped, and you relaxed back against the pillows. “I’ll take care of everything. I’ll have food sent up, you just watch the game and try to get more sleep before the doctor gets here,”

You huffed but didn’t protest as she tucked the blanket tighter around your torso. 

“I know you’re unhappy with all of this, but it is what it is, and we need to look after your health too,” She sighed, turning and bustling around the room, flipping on the television to the game and grabbing a mug you hadn't noticed from the dresser by the door. “Drink that, and I’ll be back in a bit,”

You didn’t respond as she placed the mug on the table beside you, and disappeared through the hotel room door with a soft click. 

You wanted to groan. To yell. To throw the mug across the room, but you knew it wouldn’t help. 

The other part of you wanted your guitar, not that you were sure your fingers were strong enough right now to actually play.  

You closed your eyes, tilting your head back on the pillows. 

It wasn’t long before you felt fingers in your hair, though you hadn’t heard the door open again. 

You instantly knew who it was, though her perfume was suspiciously missing. 

“You look like you got hit by a bus,” She murmured, her breath brushing across your nose. 

Your eyes fluttered open, meeting her blue, except it was two shades darker than you remembered, the same shade as the old UNC jersey she was wearing. 

“I’m fine,” You croaked, the sound pulling a hacking cough from your lungs that burned as it left you. 

“Ah yes, because you sound just fine,” She huffed, her nails scratching lazily at your scalp. “You don’t need to hide from me,”

You blinked slowly, and her form shimmered slightly beside you. “‘M not. ‘M right here,”

“Rule one is honesty for a reason,” She countered, her hand pausing. “You’ve not abided by that.”

You swallowed around the glass in your throat at the confirmation of what you already knew, and your eyes closed again as the heavy weight of it settled on your mind. 

You had broken the most sacred rule and you were in trouble. It wouldn’t just be a punishment you would have to take. It would be regaining her trust that would take the longest time. 

It was a fragile thing, and you had shattered it. 

You forced your eyes open again, determined to say something- anything- that would make it better, except when you did, she was gone. 

You blinked heavily at the empty bed beside you. The space she had been seconds ago. 

You wanted to shake your head, but with the freight train pounding in your skull, you knew that was a terrible idea. 

“This is a very different starting eleven for England, but it’s what we expected. The only change of note is that Alessia Russo is unavailable for this game.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed at the television, flashing the starting lineup for the game. 

Natasha said Alessia wasn’t starting, but you expected her to at least be on the bench. 

You closed your eyes and let your head fall back. 

What was the point of suffering alone if Alessia wasn’t even going to play?

You weren’t sure anymore.

******

“I’ve got her,” 

You stirred at the familiar voice, and the feeling of gentle fingers running through your hair and the bed shifting next to you. The scent of lavender and honey wrapped around you like a comforting blanket, pulling you closer to consciousness. 

Your eyebrows pulled tightly together before your eyes flickered open, meeting the familiar blue of your girlfriend. 

“Hey there,” She said softly, her thumb smoothing out the crease between your eyebrows. “How are you feeling?”

You opened your mouth, but nothing but a low hacking cough came out. 

“Easy, little one,” Alessia shushed you softly. “Just relax. I’m here, and I’ll take care of you now, ok?”

It was painful how real she felt. Painful how much you wanted to believe she was here with you. 

“Trouble,” You mumbled, coughing violently afterward, unable to stop yourself from leaning into her hand. 

“I think we should make it your middle name since you seem to find it so often,” She murmured, running her hand again through your hair. “But no. You’re not in trouble. Not right now,”

You made a low, wheezing sound, shaking your head, despite the waves of nausea it sent to your stomach. “Real daddy disagrees,” 

She frowned. “Real daddy?”

You swallowed hard, forcing words past your stolen vocal cords. “Not here. In Luxembourg. Won’t fool me again,” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” She said, her nails dragging against your scalp in the way she knew you loved. “Natasha called me last night, and I got on the flight as soon as I could,”

It took a few extra seconds for her words to filter through the unpleasant haze in your brain. Even then, they didn’t make sense. 

Hell, her entire demeanor, including the softness in her features as she looked at you, didn’t make sense. 

You explicitly told Natasha not to call her, and you couldn’t process her going against that request. Not when Alessia had a game to play. 

“My brain is making you up,” You wheezed after another long second. 

She breathed out a half chuckle. “While your brain is brilliant, I wasn’t conjured by it,” 

You made a low, husky sound that could only be incredulity. 

Her thumb again smoothed the space between your eyebrows. “What will it take for you to believe you’re awake?”

You blinked heavily at her, your shoulders lifting and falling. 

She shook her head. “You’re too much,”

“No,” You mumbled, the crease between your eyebrows pushing against her finger. “‘M a good girl,”

“Yes. You are always my good girl, even when you’re being a stubborn pain in the ass,” She agreed fondly, leaning down to press a kiss to your too-warm forehead. “Sleep. I’ll be here where you wake up, and maybe you’ll actually believe you’re not dreaming,”

“Promise?” you asked. Sounding small, as exhaustion pulled at you. 

She hummed. “I promise,”

Her fingers kept their soft rhythm in your hair as your eyes fluttered closed, and you shifted to press your nose into her shoulder, breathing in her perfume with each rattling intake from your lungs. It surrounded you, soothing the burning in your chest, and soothing the sharp edges in your throat. 

For the first time since the lingering tickle started, you actually felt at peace. You felt calm enough to let yourself truly relax. 

It would suck when you woke up and Alessia was gone, but doing anything other than allowing your mind to linger in this delusion felt unbearable. 

Instead, you allowed yourself to sink into the overwhelming pull of exhaustion. 

And you swore you heard an “always,” before sleep pulled you under. 

Even if this alessia didn’t turn out to be real, you trusted her. And as angry as you wanted to be at Natasha and Steve for calling her, you knew she was exactly what you needed. 

She always would be, even if she was just made up in your mind. 

[sweetdispatch]

Who's a loser now - J. Hughes

Purple Chemistry | Previous Chapter

summary: Everything looked normal between you and Jack until the first game between Rangers and Devils

warning: NSFW, graphic sex (18+), dom!Jack, spanking, orgasm denial, swearing

words: 1.2k

note: sorry for the wait🧸

---

In the middle of October, Jack showed up at your place. The first time since the fight you had. You were delighted to see him again. Straight to the point, he kissed you and you ended up in your bed. This time, he hadn’t left you and stayed for the night. You were happy that he didn’t run away. You woke up to an empty spot in your bed and thought that he left. You went to the kitchen to start your day with breakfast when you saw him sitting on the couch. 

“I need a favour from you” He started.

“I’m listening” You started to prepare yourself a cup of coffee.

“I have a halloween party and I need a pair. Can you go with me?” He asked you with hope in his voice.

“You want me to go to Devils halloween party? You’re funny” You laughed at the thought. 

“Yeah, what’s wrong with that?” 

“Nothing but” You took a deep breath. “Don’t you think it’s gonna be weird for me to show up at your party while I’m standing on the opposite side?” 

“No one needs to know you're a Rangers fan. I promise, I’ll keep that to myself. Please” He begged you.

“Fine but you owe me Jack” 

“Anything” He stood up and kissed your cheek. “I’ll send you all the informations later” 

As promised, you went with Jack to the halloween party. You two decided to dress up as Spongebob and Patrick. It summed you two perfectly as friends. Everything was going smoothly until you met Jack’ brother, Luke. You were chatting with him and learnt a lot of things about Jack which you never heard before. It was great until he pointed out your hockey team.

“You know, it’s brave to show up to our party while being a fan of the rival team” He joked but you froze on the spot. 

“How did you know?” You whispered, not wanting others to hear it. 

“Jack told me that when you had a huge argument. He got back and started talking about how you were mad at him because we won against Rangers” 

“First of all, that’s not true. I just had a bad day and took it out on him. Ugh, I know it was a bad idea to be here. How many people know about it?” You started biting your own nails.

“No one. Jack told me to keep my mouth shut about it” You sighed.

You decided not to confront Jack about it. You knew that he wouldn’t lie to you. Actually he kept his promise because he told his brother about it before he asked you to be his plus one at a party. You understood that Luke is his brother and he tells him everything that’s why you held your tongue. You had a great night with Jack which ended up in your bed. It felt incredible to be close again with him but the tension was still there.

It was time for the first game of the season between the New Jersey Devils and New York Rangers. It was held in Prudential Center so it meant more for Jack because he played at home. After two promising preseason games against Rangers, Devils lost. Jack got two points in this game but he was pissed over the loss. 

You smiled when you saw the result. It felt incredible to win the derby in New Jersey. You couldn’t attempt this game but watched it at home. Remembering how cocky Jack was after the two wins in preseason, you decided to play his game. You sent him a cheeky message. 

“That’s why no one cares about the preseason games, enjoy the lost x”

It was a simple message and after you hit the send button, you didn’t really think about it. After Jack got ready to return to his apartment, he grabbed his phone and saw the message from you. He was furious. He didn’t reply to it but decided to drive to your apartment instead and take his anger out on you. 

After two hours, you heard loud pounding at your door. You went to open the door and you saw Jack who looked mad. Before you could say anything, he pinched you to the wall and grabbed your throat. You widen your eyes at his action.

“You think you’re funny huh? That it nice to read messages like this?” He asked you a question but you couldn’t answer. “I think you need a reminder who’s a loser here”

Jack pulled you by your arm and bent you over the kitchen island. In a quick move he took your sweatpants and underwear. The next thing you felt was his hand on your bare ass. He repeated this couple more times. With each spank, he was using more power. Tears were floating from your eyes but you enjoyed this change in him. When you thought Jack’ done with you, you tried to move but he kept you in the same spot.

“Don’t you fucking dare to move” He said through his teeth. “You won’t get so easily from this” 

Jack unbuckled his belt and got rid of his pants and underwear. He took off his suit jacket and pulled the wallet from pocket. He grabbed a condom and tossed the wallet on the ground. He pushed his whole length into you and started moving. He was thrusting hard into you and you tried to grab something. With each move your whole body was moving on the kitchen island. You were a moaning mess under him and it was turning him even more.

“Please Jack, don’t stop. I’m so close” You breathed out and heard Jack’ laugh.

“Funny that you think I’ll let you cum. You need to earn it and today, you didn’t do it” He said and spanked you again. 

You were surprised to hear this. Jack always let you cum no matter how mad he was. This was new to you and deep down you hoped that he'll give you an orgasm. There’s no way he leaves you undone - you thought to yourself. You felt his dick stretching your pussy and any minute you would cum. He could feel that too. He knows your body like the back of his hand. With one final thrust, he cum into the condom and pulled out of you before you could cum. 

“Why would you do that?” You cried feeling empty without him and unsatisfied. 

“I told you, you need to earn it and with this bitchy comment you’re far from that” He answered while putting his pants back on. “Be lucky that I didn’t edge you five times like I planned at first”

You put back your sweatpants and looked at him. Jack could tell that you’re mad at him. He caressed your cheek and pecked your forehead. Just like that, he left your apartment and you stood in the kitchen trying to process what just happened. You couldn’t understand why he was pissed at you after the text message but you couldn’t when he was mocking you about the preseason games.

Couple days later, Jack sent you flowers with an apology note. You laughed when you got them at work because that was cheesy from him. You wanted to stay mad at him but you couldn’t. He meant too much for you but you still felt like you’re his sex doll. No matter how hard you tried, he still wasn’t trusting you.

---

Next Chapter

[sexy-monster-fucker]

Mile High Club

Aaron Hotchner x BAU!Reader

Summary: After a long case, and some things leading to leaving one of your coworkers behind, reader and Hotch are alone on the private jet.

CW: mile-high-club, drinking, childish antics from the BAU team while drunk, tit play, fingering, p in v, creampie

a/n: be gentle with me I’m still new to writing for Hotch— also idk what it is but other writers for Hotch have made him out to be a tits man and I don’t think I can deny that

-

Your team had been spread thin. Having the rare occurrence of an unsub possibly operating in cities way too far apart. Somehow sending half of you across states to investigate. Rossi, J.J., Derek, and Emily had stayed back in the initial state. Leaving you, Reid, and Hotch to hop on the plane. Checking everything out and finding the exact same patterns as the other murders.

Rossi had called after a few days. After accessing the situation, he thought it would be best for Derek and himself to come take the place of two of you. Thinking they would have some kind of expertise for the area, but also making sure no single group was obscenely outnumbered. Hotch had no problem with the idea. Wanting to get back to the original sight to look further into things.

“Y/N,” Hotch had knocked on the door of your hotel room, letting himself in like you had told him he could. Sometimes wanting his company. Enjoying hearing his deep, steady voice talk about anything. Causing your stomach to swirl around itself when bumps would prickle down your skin at how he said your name.

You sat on the edge of your bed still not fully dressed. Your lower half completely covered, but still only in your bra. You hurried to throw on your blouse as Hotch stepped in. Silently apologizing to him as you fumbled over the buttons. Dark eyes darted down to your bare chest, quickly going back up to your face. “Apologies, I didn’t know you weren’t ready for company,” Hotch craned his neck looking up at the ceiling while you buttoned the shirt. Noticing a soft glow on his cheeks.

Hotch was your superior. Leader of the team. And your not-so-secret crush.

One night, you and your teammates had all been drinking. Hotch and Rossi opting to not come along. You had been deep into drinking when a question had been brought up. Playing childish high school games where the boys and girls would ask each other horny questions. Derek, of course, being the one to ask.

“Alright— I’ve got a good one for the ladies. Fuck, Marry, Kill. Hotch, Rossi, Gideon.” His drunken smirk made some of you roll your eyes. J.J.’s jaw hung open as she and Emily laughed together. Penelope started to speak when you blurted out, “Definitely marry Hotch, so I could fuck him for the rest of my life.”

All eyes were on you now. Not caring with how the alcohol buzzed in your system. Scanning everyone’s facing to see some serious mixed reactions. You threw your hands up slightly, “What?!”

“You would wanna marry that hard-nosed tyrant?” Derek smiled.

You furrowed your brows, looking next to you at Reid. Seeing his expression being equally as shocked. “Wh—? I thought all of us would agree on that one! He’s a good dad, good physique, and~ a sexy voice to boot,” you counted on your fingers, not a hint of shame on your voice.

“But that’s not what you said,” Reid smirked at you. You looked around the table to see everyone agreeing with teasing tones.

“Yeah— you said so you could fuck him for the rest of your life, not any of those other things,” J.J. giggled as she bumped your shoulder.

“And— you didn’t even say your picks for the other two!” Derek laughed.

You rolled your eyes, leaning your head back and covering your face. Embarrassment finally washing over you at the reveal of your feelings for your boss. “Oh my God—“ you started smiling widely with flushed cheeks.

“Ah— look! You really like him!” Emily smiled as she sipped at her drink again.

And you did. The way he carried himself. The way his gruff voice could carry a room. His determination for the BAU and solving cases drawing you to him. It did not help that Hotch clearly had his eye on you as well. Gaze lingering on you in every room you shared. Attentive when you would present a summary to the group, never removing his eyes from you. Soft, rare smiles when you would crack some joke about his age. Words of encouragement when it was just the two of you awake on the plane. Eyes twinkling when he heard your laugh on nights out. Always finding his place next to you anywhere: on the plane, at the bar, in the office. Unable to forget the night you had drifted away against his shoulder after a rather grueling month of a case. Turning into you openly flirting with him from time to time.

Your little crush on him was more than meets the eye.

“No, sir. I apologize. I should always be ready just in case we needed to jump into action,” you finally got the last button up. Turning to grab your coat off the spare chair in the room. Catching Hotch’s eyes scanning your figure. You smiled.

“You and I have to head back. Rossi and Derek want to come look at the scene and I don’t want to leave anyone with small numbers,” Hotch said his stoic tone vibrating off the walls.

“What about Spence?”

“Derek and Rossi are already on their way. He won’t be alone,” he reassured.

“Okay, good. I wouldn’t wanna leave your favorite boy alone,” you joked walking over and closing the distance between you. Noticing his tie was not fully fixed. Hands pinching and fidgeting the fabric. Hotch stretched his neck, “What… are you doing?” His hand came up and grabbed yours gently.

“Since when do you not get finished getting ready?” You ignored his question as you continued fixing him.

“Guess I was just in a rush… with the flight and all,” Hotch relaxed at your touch. You knew better than that. Wondering what could have caused it. Not questioning him further. Softly flattening your hand against the tie before you realized how intimate of an action it was. Batting your lashes up at him. Seeing his eyes were already on your face. Heavy brow but a soft expression. “Thank you,” his voice was soft for the first time today.

He was just so gorgeous. You felt butterflies flapping around your insides. Wanting to press into him. Wanting him to pin you down on the mattress of the hotel room. Dying to see what he looked like while you had his dick in your mouth.

You had to stop yourself. Realizing the silence was going on longer than intended. Chuckling to yourself to ease the tension. Quickly pulling your hand away and clinching your fist by your side. “How long til they get here?”

“Twenty minutes. We need to leave now,” Hotch stated. He walked to the door, opening it and allowing you to exit first. Reid was out in the hallway, leaned against the door of his room. Arms crossed over his chest as he watched you and Hotch approach.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” You questioned him. Reid was one of your closest friends on the team. He was not much younger than you, yet you still felt like he was still so new. Wanting to make sure he was comfortable and going to be safe. Especially since things had gone down between him and an unsub on a previous case.

“Of course I will,” Reid smiled, eyes looking at both you and Hotch.

“Call me if anything happens,” you began towards the elevator, Hotch followed closely behind you. Silently riding down to the lobby together. Lips sewn together as neither of you dared to make a sound. Shoes tapping against the hard floor as you went out to the SUV.

“You driving or me?” You playfully asked.

Hotch did not look up at you. Staring at his phone, “I will.” That stabbed you. He would usually make some sly comment about the time you hit a light pole in a rush leaving a parking lot. But now he did not even look at you.

Replying with a simple “Okay” as you go into the passenger seat. Nothing was said until you arrived at the plane. Being greeted with a smile from Derek and Rossi.

“Hi, pretty girl,” Derek adjusted his sunglasses with his words. Rossi and Hotch stepped aside to debrief together quickly. Derek caught you up on all the new details and what caused Rossi to want to come out to this scene. This case was a tough one all things considered.

You caught Hotch’s stern brow directed at you as he and Rossi talked back and forth. Wondering why he was making that face at you. Clearly losing focus of what Derek was saying. Coming back when he repeated your name, “Y/N-? You have a whole flight back to stare at McDreamy, okay? Listen to me right now.”

You whipped your head forward, brows pushed together as you mouthed defenses. Closing your eyes and shaking your head to bring your focus back. “Sorry,” you grumbled as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“J.J.’s got all the files printed for you on the plane. I’m sure Hotch will wanna take a look first. It’s a heavy one so prepare for all the new stuff,” Derek tilted his head with his words.

Hotch marched over to you. Eyeballing Derek before focusing his attention on you, “Let’s go.” You nodded. Saying your goodbyes to Derek as you boarded the plane. Nestling up against the wall of the plane. Hum of the engine vibrating your ears. Comforting you.

You watched Hotch sort through files. Enjoying the comfortable silence on the flight. Loving how his hands looked gripping the folders and papers. Blushing when you thought above how perfectly his fingers would stretch you.

“So,” you broke the silence. Causing Hotch’s eyes to dart up to you quickly before falling back onto the papers. “Why did you want me to come and not Reid?”

Hotch’s movements completely halted. Jaw clenching at your question. Watching his fingers crinkle the paper more than before. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. Brow pushed firmly down.

“Spencer and Derek make a great team. Pretty boy and boy genius or whatever you girls say,” Hotch spoke quicker than normal, clearly lying. Just how you wanted him.

“Really?”

Hotch nodded. Eyes never moving from their spot on the page.

“I don’t know if I believe you… Aaron,” you smirked using the informality. That one got his attention. Laying the paper down on his lap and rolling his shoulders. Straightening his posture and crossing his hands over his lap. Fully focused on you across from him now.

“Don’t profile me,” Hotch’s corner of his mouth curving slightly with his words. Allowing his guard to drop if only for a moment. Tightly knitted eyebrows relaxing for the first time.

“Oh, I’m not. Just being observant,” you teased, sitting forward for your elbows to be resting on your knees. Becoming suddenly aware of your cleavage hanging out when Hotch’s eyes jumped down.

You sat back up, “Because if I was profiling you, you would be making it too easy on me.”

Hotch cocked an eyebrow at you, sitting with his legs spread wide open, “Is that so?”

“Seeing how you’ve stared at my chest twice today, I’d say so. Oh, and your tie this morning? I’ve never seen you not finish tightening it. And how relaxed you are right now. Your pupils darkened when you finally looked at me, and you keep fidgeting your fingers. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you wanted to be alone with me on this flight,” you smirked resting back against your seat to mimic how he sat.

Hotch’s brows raised for a moment as his lips sealed together, fighting an obvious smile. “Aren’t I just giving you what you wanted?” He questioned.

Your stomach flipped. Confused by what he was implying, “Wh-what?”

“Since we’re profiling… I’ve caught you staring at me more than once since yesterday. Each time I caught you, you would quickly turn away or wave at me. Clearly, a sign you were checking me out yourself. Or how about you not being ready this morning? I told you exactly what time we would be up in the morning. I did not arrive even a minute early and you still weren’t dressed. And given your history with punctuality, I know you’re not the type to be late,” Hotch crossed his arms over his chest.

God. He was such a good profiler.

Reading into things you had not even realize you had done. You felt your cheeks heat up with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. Completely blown away with his talent to understand people almost better than they do themselves.

You crossed your legs tightly. Feeling your core aching. Mouth attempting to form words that could not escape.

“If you’d asked I would’ve this morning, Y/N,” Hotch tilted his head.

You felt your body breakout in a sweat. Refusing to question further on what he was referring to. Feeling your stomach constrict. Eyes widening while you looked at the cocky man across from you. Far too relaxed with the conversation. Your mind racing to tell you he thought it was all some joke. Perhaps one of your coworkers had told him what you said that night out drinking.

Hotch refocused on some of the papers. You chewed at your thumbnail. Going through every single possible meaning of what he said.

“Excuse me,” you stood and walked to the tiny plane restroom. Quickly closing the door behind you.

Your hands gripped the small counter. Veins popping against the bruising white force. Sweating as you felt the arousal sticking against your pussy. Flustered with your desire and how it consumed you.

There was a knock.

Your throat tightened. Had you really been in there that long? Lost that much track of time simply from dreaming of Hotch?

Stumbling over a “Sorry” as you pretended to be washing your hands. Opening the door to see Hotch standing in the doorway. Arm resting on the frame above it. Body blocking your escape. Eyebrows flat against his eyes. There was a silence as you awkwardly swallowed.

“Can I come in?” Hotch flatly asked.

“Y-Yes, sir. Sorry,” you attempted to squeeze past him. His arms came down and stiffened stopping you.

“That’s not what I mean,” his voice fell dark as he walked forward. Corning you in the tiny room. Strong shoulders and broad chest making you swoon. You turned your back to him. Going back to holding onto the counter. Hotch shut the door behind him, locking it.

Tension was high between you. The small room felt overwhelmingly stuffy. Your heartbeat was in the back of your throat. Mouth hung open just enough for you to breathe. Looking up and seeing him standing behind you with a look in his eyes you had never seen on him before. Falling back into the bowl of the sink. Steadying your breathing as you closed your eyes.

You jumped when one of his hands flattened against your lower back. Shooting your eyes open to see he had closed the small gap between you.

“Is this okay?” His slow and steady voice asked permission.

You nodded slowly. Unsure of what was exactly happening between you.

Hotch’s strong hands sprawled across your lower front. Holding your body flush against his. His nose tucked into the crook of your neck. Deep eyes staring at you in the mirror. Fingers groped into your flesh. Breath from his nose warmed up your skin.

Tender lips fell against your throat. Kissing up to your jawline. Melting into him. Body relaxing understanding the rhythm he wanted to start. Your hand went back to tangle in his hair when you felt his teeth graze you.

There was no way this was actually happening.

Large hands ventured up your chest. Palming at your tender breasts. Pulling a soft moan from you when his calloused fingers pinched at your nipple. Hands unbuttoning the top few buttons so he could slide down it. Large palms running down your chest. Kneading the plump mounds. Feeling your rapid heartbeat on his fingers.

“You’re a good profiler,” Hotch kissed your cheek with his final word, lips resting against your ear. Your body flushed with heat from the combination of everything.

You breathlessly questioned, head falling back against him.

Watching him smile against your skin with your distraught state, “Cat got your tongue, Y/L/N?” He sucked on your neck pulling a moan from you. His sultry voice had you melting in his hands. Eyes falling shut as you felt anticipation building below your belt.

A pinch of your nipple forcing your eyes back open. “Come on, show me how good of a profiler you are. Tell me why I came in here,” Hotch’s voice vibrated your neck. Kissing between your shoulder and jugular. His tone encouraging you to speak.

You swallowed hard. Mouth running dry with desire. “Y-You— based off you-your body language in the doorway, you obviously didn’t need to use the bathroom—“

“Hmm. You didn’t either,” Hotch cut you off playfully. One of his hands beginning to trace down your front. Circling your nearly exposed breasts and down the button line of your shirt, resting on the button of your pants. Pinching at it softly, as if he was slowly trying to undo it.

“An-And the tone of y-your voice tells me you clearly had something else in mind when you came in h-here with me. Not exactly HR friendly for m-my boss to be touching me like this,” you toyed with him. Dark eyes stared into yours in the mirror once again. His body swaying you back and forth slowly as he waited. Fingers finally undoing the button and sliding just the tips of his fingers under your panty line.

“Based off your er-erection pressing into my back, and the way you kept l-laying stuff over your lap earlier…. If I was to guess what your ac-actual plan w-was, I’d say y-you wanted me to ride you o-out there in your seat. But when I stormed off, you ha-had to go to Plan B,” you smiled. His fingers dipped further, ghosting right above your clit.

“And what’s Plan B?” Hotch whispered in your ear. Running his fingers through your soaked folds. Your fingers laced through his hair at the feeling, mouth hanging open.

“You’re gonna fuck m-me on the counter?” you moaned when he dipped a finger inside you. Curling and pumping perfectly.

“Good girl,” he praised finally sinking two fingers into your folds. Steadily sliding them in and out of you, hitting the spots inside you that had your legs wobbling. Thick fingers perfectly working inside you. Pulling repetitive moans from you. One of your hands came up to cover your mouth to hide the noises.

Hotch’s hand pulled your grasp away, “It’s just us. I want to hear you.” Placing your hand against his lips as his other hand pleasured you. Pad of his thumb flattening and circling your throbbing clit. Causing you to buck forward, a soft scream of a moan escaping. Fingers curled, hitting and scrapping the spongy spot that caused your legs to shake and breath hitch.

Abruptly, he removed his fingers causing you to whine. Hands on your hips guiding you to turn around. Small of your back bumping the counter as you faced him. Face flushed and panting as you attempting to look at his face. Having to tuck your head from his eyes. Feeling like an awkward first date.

Hotch nudged your chin upwards. Pulling your eyes to hold onto his. Leaning in and planting his lips against yours. Your hands ran up his chest, wrapping around his neck. Your fronts were pressed flush together. Lips sloppily attached to each other. Tongues slipping into one another’s mouth, tasting the other like it was the last time you ever could. Desperate hands held onto you. Fingers digging into the soft of your ass.

“Have you ever done this before?” You questioned as he pulled back to kneel in front of you. A soft hint of concern.

Hotch’s dreamy dark eyes looked up at you, smiling. Seeing his perfect teeth. A treat that only few got to see. He hooked his fingers around your waistband, pulling them down your legs and helping you step out. “Absolutely not,” he stated matter-of-factly with a slight chuckle.

You ran your fingers through his hair as he was below you. Warm eyes blinked up at you. Seeing a side of him you never thought you would. Looking soft and almost lovesick. You wondered if this is what he was like before the horrors of the BAU caused him to harden. Breaking through his hard shell, revealing some of the sweetest looks you had ever received. Under it all, he was a man who loved to please.

Your thumb traced his face, admiring him for the first time this closely. Noticing more beauty marks on his face. Clearly littered with stress lines from years of working. He cupped your hand in his, kissing it softly as he nuzzled against it. He adored how soft your hands still were.

He rose to his feet, hands cupping both sides of your face as he crashed his lips back into yours. Open-mouth kisses being shared as you tried to unbutton his shirt. Wanting to see his body. His actions were hungry. Hands coming down to grasp at your chest once again. Dipping his head down to suck on the exposed part of your breast. Pulling the fabric down to free your breasts. Sucking on your hardened nipples. Tongue flicking and rolling them around. Making sure he gave both the same attention. Kissing up your neck.

Hotch pulled your underwear to the side. Easing his fingers back inside you. Your entire body tingled with pleasure. Wrapping a bow in your lower half. You held onto his shoulders for support, pleasure surging through you with each movement of fingers.

There was a million questions plaguing your mind. Face contorted with curiosity and pleasure. Worried that this would all somehow comeback to bite you both in the ass. How deep down you did not want to just be a cheap hookup on the plane. Your feelings for Hotch flowed through you like blood. Taking up your entire being.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” Hotch, almost as if he was reading your mind, confessed. His normal unbending composure melting away as he delved into you. His words shocking you slightly. “I know I’m your superior. And I know this is completely inappropriate,” he kissed you once again, “But I can’t keep dancing around you.”

You smiled. His words heating up your cheeks as you deepened the kiss. Sensation of his thumb back on your nub causing you to gasp. You began grinding against his hand. Searching for a release that you could practically taste. Calling out to him, “Hotch…”

Hotch shook his head aggressively, “Aaron. I want you to call me Aaron.”

You smirked. Desperation written on his half broken voice. Looking down to see the outline of his hard-on pressed against his slacks. Rutting forward to grind against him too. Hotch’s air tightened in his throat at the feeling of any stimulation against his member.

“Aaron—“

“Oh that’s it. Sounds so pretty when you’re like this,” Hotch groaned. Rolling his hips against the place where his fingers entered you. Begging for friction that matched what you were doing to his hand.

Your hands fought the belt around his waist. Prying it open and undoing his button. Fighting to shimmy his pants down his legs. Exposing his strong thighs and boxer-briefs. Curved cock pressing against his leg.

“I want to be inside you,” Hotch mumbled between kisses. Heavily breathing. He removed his fingers from you, hands curving around the back of your thighs. Helping you up on the countertop. The perfect height for him to reach you. His calloused hands ghosted up your exposed legs. Adjusting to make sure you were slightly hanging off the edge.

Quickly, he pulled his underwear down. Cock springing free. Swollen and leaking with precum. Thick vein running up the underside of it. You could feel your mouth water and pussy clench around nothing. Your body craved him like he was some lost piece of you. His large hands stroked himself. Dark, amber eyes asking permission silently.

Hands danced up his arms. Softly stroking the hair until it met the half rolled-up fabric at his elbow, resting on the seam line on his shoulders. Half-lidded bulbs adoring your figure in front of him. Digits squeezing around the head as he lined himself up with your opening.

First he pressed only the head in, making sure to adjust to you properly. Inching further into you until his hips were flush with yours. His jaw hung open at the feeling. Rolling his neck and taking in deep breaths. His cock stretched you perfectly. Never expecting him to feel so good inside you. You clung to his back, nails digging into the flesh. His chin sat upon your shoulder as you stalled. Enjoying the closeness.

Hotch pulled back slowly, looking down to watch himself enter you again. His face contorting in pure ecstasy. “I’ve never felt anything this good,” he exhaled against your skin. Rolling his hips into you. Steadily finding a pace inside. Squeaks and moans fell from your mouth each time he would hit deep inside you. Head of his cock brushing the spot that made you see stars.

And he was good. More experienced than anyone you had ever been with before. Knowing the perfect way to get you clinging to him and begging. Lewd sounds of skin smacking together reverberated off the tight space. Sloppy as your cunt drenched him in your arousal. Hotch grunted with each thrust. Shaky breathing painting his figure.

“Hotch, fuck, Hotch,” you mumbled like a mantra.

Hotch’s brow furrowed and eyes locked with yours. Realizing your mistake and correcting accordingly.

“Aaron,” you made it more sensual.

Music to his ears. Apparent by the smile that overtook his red face. Sweat beamed down his forehead. His fingers that were previously inside you coming up to rub your clit. Causing your walls to clinch down on him.

Hotch smiled, kissing your cheek sweetly. Featherlight kisses trailed down to below your ear. “Are you gonna cum for me?” Hotch’s hoarse voice drove you crazy. Drunk on his high for you. Knowing if things continued like this he would finish soon.

You nodded. At a loss for words. Completely overwhelmed by arousal. Pressing your lips to his. Trying to catch your breath. Hotch’s free hand tangled in your hair. Sloppily kissing back and forth. Teeth bumping each other accidentally. “Talk to me, baby. I wanna hear that sweat voice of yours,” Hotch spoke in between kisses. The pet name twisting your insides tighter.

“Aaron,” you moaned, “I want you to cum inside me. Please…” Drawling out your words when he hit especially deep.

“You do?” Hotch’s brow cocked upward, his tone with a hint of tease.

“Yes, please,” you groaned.

“I love that you ask so nicely. I’m gonna need you to finish first though,” Hotch tenderly kissed you as his fingers hurried around your throbbing nub. You whined softly. The feel of him inside you causing you to be a mess. Hands coming up to grasp his face, holding his lips to yours. Lips interlocking over and over. Almost in rhythm with his hips.

The knot in your lower half was tightening like a thin rope trying to hold a ship to the dock. Straining to keep your composure, needing to relax and come undone. Muscles contorting at his bruising pace. Wanting to savor every single moment so that it would never leave your mind.

Fingers circled your extremely sensitive nub. Causing your legs to shake, trying to stabilize yourself by digging your heels into his lower back. Hotch adored the deepening of the intimacy. Feeling his cock twitch inside you, he knew he could not hold off much longer.

“I know you can do it. Let me have it, Y/N,” Hotch’s breathy voice rang through your ears. Even when he was buried inside you, his leadership shined through. Almost like he was coaching you through your orgasm.

“Aaron,” you squeaked. His tongue slipped between your lips. Hunger taking over, fingers firm against your sensitivity. You wrapped your arms around him, nails and heals digging into his back. Knot inside you finally releasing itself. Your walls constricted around his girth. You called out to him, unable to make any cohesive sentences or words. Babbling as your walls fluttered around him.

“Doesn’t that feel better?” Hotch grinned. Beginning to snap his hips harshly into you. Shortly reaching his own climax. White hot coated your still sensitive insides. Hotch grunted as he rutted into you. Holding you as close as possible waves washed through you both. Fingers bruising into your soft flesh.

Hotch remained inside you. Both of your chests heaving. Attempting to fill your lungs back up. Kiss swollen lips planting against his cheek. Feeling his skin bunch up into a grin.

“We can’t tell anyone about this,” his stern tone partially returning. Still soft and slurred with his high. His hand petted you. The softest you had ever seen Hotch be.

“Does that mean we can’t do this again?”

Hotch paused. Forehead scrunched in thought. “Of course not,” he kissed your lips, “It’s just not something we need spread around.”

You beamed. Cheeks glowing with excitement. Giddy that this was not a one time thing. Hotch’s brown eyes shining in then dim-lit bathroom. The two of you holding steady for a moment. Neither of you wanting to separate.

Hotch twisted his wrist to look at his watch. Expression falling flat when he saw the time. “We’ll be landing shortly,” he straightened his back. Both of you wincing when his softening member slipped out of you. Feeling a mixture of juices run between your thighs.

Hotch wrapped some of the extremely thin toilet paper around his fingers. Layering it so that it would be more absorbent. Gently cleaning up the mess between your legs. Jumping when he wiped up against your clit. Capturing you in a kiss as a semi-apology.

Hotch moved your panties back over your worked opening. Helping get you cleaned up and dressed. His large palms held both sides of your face. Smiling with pink cheeks as he licked his lips. Like there was something more he wanted to say, but could not get out.

You turned around to make sure you look put together in the mirror. Seeing Hotch watch your every move. Fixing his own tie and sleeves. Both of you patted down your tattered hair. Hotch leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on the top of your head.

The two of you took your seats next to each other out in the cabin. You rested your head on his shoulder, his arm laced around your back. Fingers twirling your hair. His other hand examined your fingers. As if he was trying to engrave them into his memory. There was only a few moments before you landed and got into the SUV that would be escorting you.

You leaned your head against the glass of the back window. Sitting what felt like miles away from Hotch compared to how close you had been previously. Silently being drove to meet your other teammates. Looking over at your boss. Causing his eyes to dart over to you as well. A closed mouth smile beaming on his face. Eyes squinting up as he reached his hand over to yours. Lacing your fingers together.

An intimate gesture that you imagined would be few and far between going forward. Thoroughly enjoying the feeling of your hands together. Loathing the thoughts in your mind that reminded you that this was going to be secret. Guilt of the inappropriate nature of it, by the BAU’s standards. But when you felt Hotch’s fingers tighten, it pulled you out of it. Settling in for the short car ride to meet your coworkers.

A hollow feeling settling in the depths of your stomach when he pulled away. All kindness and softness leaving his figure and expression as he straightened his back. Hands flattening his slacks and adjusting his tie. Adjusting your posture to match his. Eyes watching as you pulled into the parking lot. Seeing J.J. and Emily standing out front of the local station.

A silent look towards each other before opening your doors. An acknowledgment that once these doors were open, everything went back to the way it was before. SSA Aaron Hotchner. Your superior. And you, SSA Y/N Y/L/N, his subordinate. Nothing more than that.

Click of the car door had you greeting the other women with smiles. Nothing too crazy, due to the severity of the case. Noting the half-lidded looks directing back to Hotch. Emily’s teeth grazed her lip as she and J.J. giggled when you finally got close to them. You widened your eyes at them, cheeks beaming like a teenager who just got back from talking to their crush.

“Well, how was your plane ride back with Hotch?” Emily raised her brow.

You blinked.

“Uh— good… just, good,” you stammered softly.

“Did you profess your undying desire for him?” J.J. folded her fingers together and fluttering her lashes to mock you.

You rolled your eyes, smiling. Exhaling with the million things you could say. Knowing you never could tell anyone else. Catching the last glimpse of Hotch as he entered the building. Seeing his eyes scanning you over his shoulder.

“Can you brief me as we head inside?” You asked marching towards the door.

~~~

[END]

// Thank you so much for reading! This is my very first time writing for Hotch, and I really hope to write for him more in the future. This may be some people’s first time on my blog. If you have any requests, my inbox is always open! If you would like to be tagged in future works, please let me know!! //

{tags}

@megangovier ~ @bondwithme-murderstyle ~ @justyourusualash ~ @hoffmanfan13 ~ @kaysolai ~

[cinnamanz]

# ONLY ON CAMERA — chapter fifteen!

when katseye's main dancer daniela avanzini accidentally throws shade at chart-topping singer y/n l/n on an interview, the internet erupts in chaos. with y/n already in hot waters with the press over her latest scandal, both their pr teams scramble for damage control. the solution? a 'picture-perfect' fake relationship to turn the headlines in their favor.

ANGEL

IT WASN’T OFTEN that y/n really found herself in the presence of literature. growing up homeschooled in a very musically aligned family, the only form of books she’d ever read were milk-white paper inked and engraved with music notes, spending hours perfecting every note on her instrument. so to find herself surrounded by actual words written on paper, it was safe to say she felt a little lost.

following daniela like a lost puppy, she hovered around the woman’s shoulder, peeking over to occasionally check what she’d picked up and placed in the basket neatly, before scuttering off into a corner of the bookstore and returning back to her a few minutes later.

“you know, you don’t have to check up on me every five minutes, right?” the dancer mumbles in disinterest and slight annoyance at the singer coming and going, sighing deeply. “it’s not like i’m going anywhere.”

a grin makes it home on y/n’s lips, “well, i wouldn’t know about that. you kinda hate me, no? i mean, as we talk right now, you’re probably thinking of a way to escape me.”

daniela barely bats an eyelash at the singer. she wasn’t wrong in a degree, and she kind of was thinking of an escape route about twenty minutes ago, until y/n had shoved bags of pastries from the same cafe they’d gone a few days ago, gently soothing her annoyance before handing it back to y/n to hold, which she eagerly did.

a chuckle makes itself known, rumbling in y/n’s chest as the woman crosses her arms, the bag of the pastries shuffling slightly in her hold. “so, i was right.”

the action earned a roll of daniela’s eyes in return, returning back to her shopping. “don’t let it get to your head.”

daniela’s book shopping didn’t come into a conclusion until an hour later, two baskets full of books that would probably take her a whole year to finish with her current schedule.

and when y/n appears beside her again, scanning the baskets and her features screwed into a contemplative expression, she picks up both baskets without a singular word uttered, striding to the counter.

confused, daniela follows her with pinched brows, slightly annoyed. “what are you doing? i can’t pay for tha-”

“but you’re not the one paying though?” the singer replied coolly as she placed the heavy baskets onto the counter with a slight thud, the employee’s eyes behind said counter about to pop out of its sockets. from the amount of purchase, or the recognition? both, one would say.

for the first time ever, since their initial meeting a few days ago and the constant attitude and sassiness she’d thrown at y/n, daniela felt meek. she stood behind the singer in silence, biting her bottom lip as she thought of a way to thank her, not even noticing the other pull out her wallet and pay for the $1000+ purchase, handing her the bag of pastries.

“here, you take the food and i’ll take the books. they’re heavy, so…” at the sudden quietness she’d received from daniela, nervousness clawed its way up y/n’s chest, missing the usual snark the woman would give her. “did you- did you not want them?”

daniela shook her head, taking the bag of pastries, fingertips brushing against the singer’s palm and god, is her brain malfunctioning? why can’t she think of anything to say? in the corner of her eye, she spots a fan of y/n’s, easy to spot with the merch they had draped over their shoulder. and as their eyes met, she leant up on her tiptoes and gave y/n a peck.

“thank you.” oh wow, so she could be an absolute angel if she wanted to.

masterlist 🎸⋆⭒˚.⋆ next

sorry for the lack of updates today guys!! hopefully this makes up for it. oh and, condolences to yall for the the next chapter. this smau is NAWT as family n health friendly unlike the manon one😇😇😇 js thought i'd throw this out there

taglist : @meganskiendielsbtc @rosiehrs @artrizzler19 @goofymickeyr @sunshinez4 @urmom2314 @meizinisnumberone @yeetaberry127 @xochitlisbest @ssamlovr @saysirhc @nyssalvr @ninguitar @kristalag @1luvkarina @idleyuri @kathleenmikaelson @sed7ction @hazel-tanthamore22 @yazzyminny @vrtualstar @meiphobic @cassiespoiler @yjiminswallet @gtfoiydlyj @taikabui @cceanvvaves @c-yerim @waitsobs @firstclassjaylee @bowforgodjihyo @thepurin @chaepu TAGLIST OPEN!

[fluff-lover]

Healing Touch: Jealousy

A little drabble inside Healing Touch, but can be read as a stand alone.

A/N: This takes place after reader/Angel and Logan get together, around chapter 6 (it’s not posted yet)

Logan’s not the “flowers and chocolates” type of guy. He was too “tough” for those corny things, or at least that’s what he likes to think.

But you know he can be tender and thoughtful so when you had flowers delivered to you one morning, you didn’t question it. You giggled with excitement as you placed the flowers in a vase and set them on your desk. They really gave the school’s infirmary a pop of color.

You were supposed to help Hank with some paperwork but you were too distracted looking at the beautiful combination of flowers, your belly filled with butterflies as you thought about Logan and how special he made you feel.

The last bell of the day rang and you could hear the kids rushing through the halls. Finally the day was over. You opened the door and looked around the hall, expecting to see Logan making his way to the infirmary. And he didn’t disappoint.

Since the two of you got together you built a little routine: you saw each other in the infirmary after class to catch up, then you had dinner with the rest of the team, and then he would sneak to your bedroom for some alone time. Logan still chose to sleep by himself in his own room, although it was starting to get harder and harder to say goodnight, both of you just wanting to sleep in the same bed, holding each other. But his fear of hurting you in his sleep was bigger, so this routine was enough, for now at least.

As he made his way to the infirmary he saw you standing by the door with the biggest, most lovely smile on your face, and he felt himself floating to you.

“Hey, little angel.” He greeted you.

“Hi!” you giggled and pulled him inside by his arm.

After kicking the door shut you basically threw yourself at him, arms and legs wrapping around him as you kissed him. Logan was caught by surprise but still managed to catch you mid air without dropping you. The kiss was deep and passionate, the type of kiss you reserved for whenever you were alone in your bedroom. When you finally pulled back you two were breathless

“Someone is in a good mood.” Logan observed, panting. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“Mhmmm.” You hummed, eyelids half closed, a smile on your face. “I just wanted to thank you for the flowers.”

Logan blinked.

“What flowers?”

You could swear you heard the sound of a record scratching.

“You didn’t send me flowers?” You asked, slowly “climbing” down Logan. He stared at you.

“No, I didn’t.” 

It’s hard to tell what was bigger: your disappointment or his confusion.

At that Logan spotted the flowers on your desk. He gently pulled aside before stomping to the desk to inspect it. You watched him as he looked around the flowers until he found a little card tucked between the stems. 

You facepalmed, how did you not think about checking first?

“To my little angel -your secret admirer.” Logan read out loud, rage building up in his chest.

“I thought they were from you.” You said shyly. “You’re the only one that calls me that.”

“Well, clearly I’m not!” He said. “And I’m not so much of a secret admirer, am I?”

“I’m sorry.” you looked down. 

With a huff, Logan picked up the flowers and walked out of the infirmary. You frowned in confusion and followed him.

“Where are you going?” You asked, but he didn’t reply, instead he kept walking.

Logan bursted into the teachers’ lounge room with an imposing stance, making the room go quiet very fast.

“Who the FUCK sent flowers to MY girl?” He growled before throwing the bouquet on a table. 

You could hear a pin drop. Everyone looked shocked, and some even a little bit scared. After a moment you heard someone cough.

“Um, that was me.” Alex Summers said. “I didn’t know you two had become a thing...”

You thought Logan would kill him. His breathing picked up, his nose flared and his fists clenched, eyes throwing daggers at him.

Alex didn’t wish for a fight, but if it was needed he was ready to defend himself.

“Logan…” You whispered before placing your hand on his arm. You were the only person that could calm him down. Your touch always seemed to ground him. “It’s okay, he didn’t know.”

Logan bared his teeth to Alex as a final warning before turning to you. His eyes softened instantly. He didn’t want to scare you and you looked upset already, he didn’t like that. He walked to Alex, and the young man squared up his shoulders, ready for a confrontation.

“Logan…” You insisted.

“You try something like this ever again and I will end you.” Logan threatened before turning and walking out the room.

Everyone stood in silence, too shaken up to do or say something.

You looked at the flowers on the table, all torn and ruined, and your heart broke.

… you really liked those flowers. 

-

No one knew where Logan was. After the altercation he took off, god knows where, and hadn’t come back yet. The sun was setting and you were worried. You considered calling him, but instead you chose to send him a text letting him know you’d wait for him at your usual bench.

Sitting there you took a moment to think. You were sad that the flowers weren’t from Logan. You couldn’t care less about Alex, or anyone else for that matter. But you wanted to believe Logan liked you enough to do sweet gestures like sending flowers. Maybe he really wasn’t that type of man, and as much as the idea of never getting flowers hurt you, you knew you’d have to get used to it. Logan expressed his affection in other ways, and that was enough for you.

You were also surprised by how possessive Logan seemed to be about you. Never in a million years you’d think he would fight another man over you. That was the last thing you wanted for him.

That being said, there was a tiny little part of you that was flattered. The way Logan called you HIS girl in a room filled with people made your heartbeat pick up. This was enough for you to know you were in his mind, and he didn’t need to send flowers for people to know you belonged to him.

Suddenly Logan appeared by your side and your eyes almost fell out of their sockets. 

He was holding a big bouquet of red roses, a teddy bear and a box of chocolates. You couldn’t decide whether this was the most romantic thing you’ve ever seen, or if he just looked ridiculous. This was so out of character for him.

“What the…?” You said getting up from the bench.

“Hear me out.” Logan said as he stepped closer. “I know I acted like an asshole and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t.” You reassured him.

“Yeah, well… Still, I shouldn’t have acted out like that. I think I was jealous.”

“You think?” you teased, making him roll his eyes.

“I don’t like the idea of Alex, or anyone else for that matter, to swoop in and take you away.”

You felt yourself melting.

“Oh Logan, that’s never gonna happen.” 

“It should happen if I don’t treat you right.” He said.

“What do you mean?” You asked, confused.

“I never sent you flowers.” Logan said with shame, as if it was an embarrassing thing to admit. “And then some random guy does and it makes me look bad.” He shook his head. “I’m an idiot.”

“No you’re not, don’t say that.” you shook your head.

“I don’t know how to do this whole… relationship thing.” He said, cringing at his own election of words. “But I’m trying, okay? I really want to do things right. So…” He looked down at the gifts. “I got my girl some flowers and… stuff.” Poor guy, he was really trying.

You smiled and reached out to take the flowers from him.

“Red roses… that’s very romantic.” You giggled before sniffing a flower and sighing happily. “Thank you Logan, I love them.” You stood on your toes and pecked his lips. He smiled widely, the type of smile that steals your breath away every. single. time. 

You took the rest of his gifts and walked back to his bedroom with him.

Later that night you looked at the flowers on your desk, lit only by your bedside table. The box of chocolates was open and half empty, and the teddy bear was on your dresser facing the wall because according to Logan, “he shouldn’t see what papa was about to do to mama”.

And what a show it was!

Logan laid between your legs, with his head on your chest after some intense love making. You ran your hands through his hair and he hummed happily.

“That was… something.” you said exhausted and giggled. Logan propped himself up and smiled down at you. The way he looked at you made you blush shyly, even after everything you just did. There was a softness in his eyes that was reserved only for you.

“Something good I hope.” He joked.

“Baby it’s a good thing I can heal fast, because otherwise I don’t think I would be able to walk tomorrow.” you laughed.

“Good, good.” Logan said proudly before caressing your cheek. “I know that now everyone is aware that you’re my girl, but just to be sure…” You watched him take his dog tags and place them in your hand.

“Lo…” You gasped.

“That way everyone will know.” He said. You quickly put them on and once they sat on your chest Logan leaned in and kissed you.

Not only were you his girl, but by giving you his tags he was also saying “I’m yours.”

Logan Howlett was your man.

-

Tag list: (let me know if you don't want to be tagged in drabbles)

@starsmoonn

@insanesosciopath

@rebloggingfanfictioninthechaos

@ayamenimthiriel

@charmingballoon

@espressopatronum454

@uncertified-doc

@ltristessedureratoujours

@all-for-kpop

@readerofwords616

@tezooks

@tomhockstetter7-111

@meetmypointlessaddiction

@mostly-marvel-musings

@jules-and-gemss

@reidsworld

[psychoticbipolarbear]

Unprofessional innuendos

pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

summary: You keep teasing Hotch jokingly, a habit that stems from your feelings for him, but when you want to make a move he doesn't approve of, he thinks it's time to tell you he secretly likes it.

tags: daddy kink implied, age gap, pre-season 1, fem!bau!reader, Haley isn't with Hotch

word count: 0.9k

“Boys, we all know that Daddy loves me best,” you say with a laugh as you lean back in the chair with a smug smile on your face. 

Derek laughs with you as he shakes his head, knowing full well you are right, while Spencer looks like you just shot his dog. “What about me?” he asks hesitantly, pointing at himself. 

“You’re Gideon’s favorite, I won’t give you Hotch too.” 

“And I’m the oldest child both parents forget about,” Derek notes as he stands up and stretches his arms above his head. You throw a pen at him, but he catches it with ease and walks over to put it on your desk. “Come on, I’m paying for the drinks tonight. You’re coming too, Reid,” he adds, giving a pointed look to the youngest member of your team. 

You don’t move, instead you turn to the hallway where Hotch and Gideon’s offices are, wondering if you should at least offer them the chance to join you. Gideon barely came with you, but Hotch agreed every so often, and when you could convince him to drink more than two glasses, things always got interesting. He could be fun when he let his walls down, when he joined the playful banters, or when he played along with you when you were back on your usual bullshit after one too many drinks. 

So, despite the others’ protests, you jump up and run into Hotch’s office to convince him to join you. He’s playing hard to get, but you know you could easily get under his skin with a few sweet words, and sure enough, he rolls his eyes and closes the folder he was working with. “Fine,” he says, then stands up to follow you. 

Fast forward to one in the morning, when he’s standing at your door, holding you up while you try to open your front door. Derek offered to take you home, but he wasn’t that sober either, so Hotch took it upon himself to get you home in one piece. Despite being aware of your intoxicated state, he gives you a lecture in the car about how you should try to behave, toning down the innuendos that are usually flowing out of you more often than not. And it only happened around him, which made him wonder if there are real feelings behind them. 

One day is enough to put the pieces together, and when the team goes to their respective rooms after a long day of traveling and getting up to speed with a new case, you can’t help but linger around your boss’ room, debating whether or not you should talk to him. You know he was right that night, that you were taking things too far, that you were overstepping boundaries that existed for a reason. But you didn’t know what to do, your crush on him made it impossible to be around him and act normal. 

And tonight you had a moment of enlightenment and figured out what route you can take to solve this. So, you knock, impatiently waiting for him to open the door for you. When it creaks open, you see that he’s already dressed for bed, wearing a white shirt and black track pants, and his hair is a mess already. “Did something happen?” he asks.

“I know it’s late, I’m sorry. There’s something I want to tell you, but I don’t want to wait until the morning,” you admit, glancing past him into the room as a sign that maybe you shouldn’t discuss it there. He gets the message and steps aside to let you in. “I’m leaving the team,” you announce when he leans against the wall. 

Hotch freezes, but his brown eyes tell you that his brain is in overdrive. “What?” You nod, not feeling like responding with words. “No.”

“That’s not up to you.”

“It should be. Is it because of what we talked about in the car?” he asks as he steps closer, slowly closing the distance between you. You nod again. “Okay, listen to me very, very carefully. I said what I said because I don’t want a scandal. I swear to God, one day the way our team members communicate will trigger a sexual harassment training. Garcia and Morgan? You and me? That’s completely unprofessional, no matter how natural it feels to us,” he says. 

You think about what he said, then you note, “But you never join in when I say those things. It’s not mutual.”

To your surprise, he lets out a laugh, then reaches out to cup your face. “Don’t think I don’t want to,” he admits, leaning so close you can feel his hot breath on your skin. “I love the way you’re teasing me, surprisingly, I even find your stupid daddy and sir kinks endearing, but I need to draw the line at work. I’m your boss, there are rules against relationships like that.” He thinks about this, then lets his hands slide down from your cheek, moving along your neck, down over your collarbone, exploring your sides as he leans in to kiss you. “Stay here tonight. Let me show you how badly I want you,” he breaths against your lips.

Your brain doesn’t work properly anymore, you can’t think of a reason why you should say no to him. So, you stay, giving in to the sexual tension that’s been building up ever since you joined the team. From that night on, you don’t even think about leaving the team again. You just tone down the comments to play by his rules.

[lostatsea-blog]

Aftermath Part 3 (Final Part)

Alexia Putellas x England Reader

Warnings: None

The immediate aftermath of the ACL injury. This is a 3 part fic and will go between different POVs

Alexia’s POV

The knocking continued and you felt yourself becoming frustrated. It was likely one of you team and while you knew they meant well; you wanted to be left alone. You managed to use your crutch to hobble over to the door and pulled it open ready to scold whoever was on the other side but the words died on your lips when your eyes landed on the one face you had wanted to see since this nightmare started.

Y/N stood on the other side of your door, her eyes filled with concern as she took in your appearance and in that instant, you felt the dam break. Tears streamed down your face and your body began to crumple. Strong hands caught you before you hit the floor and manoeuvred you back to the bed. You felt her strong arms wrap around you and she held you while you cried. She did not say anything or tell you that it would all be okay, which you appreciated, she was just there. Her presence bringing you comfort.

“I’ve got you baby,” she whispered in your ear whilst stroking your hair “I’ve got you”

After what felt like an eternity, you finally ran out of tears. Your body, which had been rigid with tension since your injury this morning, slumped against your girlfriend. Her strong steady heartbeat under your ear bringing a sense of clam to your exhausted brain.

“què fas aquí? (What are you doing here?)” You finally ask, “You are supposed to be in camp.”

“Maria contacted Serena” she explained “Sarina has given me time to come here and be with you. Maria was worried, she said you hadn’t spoken to anyone, wouldn’t eat and hadn’t cried”

“You did not have to come” You whisper trying to pull yourself together “You have a tournament to try and win and don’t need to be pulled down by a failure like me” Your self-deprecating words triggered something in Y/N and she took a firm hold of your face, forcing you to look at her

“Stop” she commanded you firmly “Stop with this self-depreciation. You are Alexia fucking Putellas and you are far from a failure! I have never known anyone to work as hard as you do for their team. This is a setback, a devastating setback but a setback. You will come back stronger than ever”

“What if I don’t want to come back?” You ask, your voice barely about a whisper “I am so tired, what if this how it ends”

“My love, you are tired because you carry so much on your shoulders and do not allow yourself time to rest” Y/N sighed “Alexia, you do not have to carry the expectation of an entire nation on your shoulders, there are others who can help carry that burden” she kisses the side of your face as she finishes her words

“I am scared” you admit and Y/N pulls you closer ensuring you can feel her support “I am scared of coming back different and not being able to play the way I have. I do not want to be an embarrassment to you” You utter these last words while staring at the bedsheets below. You could not bring yourself to look and see your fears confirmed. After your recovery, you will come to understand that you were projecting your own fears onto Y/N but she was a woman who didn’t take anyone’s shit. You felt her fingers lifting your chin so that you were looking in her eyes.

“I did not fall in love with you because you are Alexia Putellas, La Reina, Ballon d’Or winner. I fell in love with Alexia, my Lex, funny, kind, sweet, goofy, clumsy, shy but above all perfectly imperfect. I fell in love with you, not your football persona” She wiped away tears that you did not realise had started to fall “If you never kick a football again, I will still love you and be immensely proud of you” she promised “but I know that is not how you want to bow out”

“How do you come here and turn everything on it’s side” you ask finding it difficult to understand the change in your mood. Everything felt a little less dark

“On it’s head” she corrected and at your raised eyebrow she clarified “The saying is turn everything on it’s head and to answer, the most important job I have is my job as your partner. I have always told you if you need me, I don’t care what I am doing, I will be there” she leaned forward and took your lips in a gentle kiss. You felt her love surge through your connected lips and again, things felt a little less dark. You knew that the road ahead would be long and it would bring challenges but you had all the support you needed to get through it. while the Euros were not on the cards for you - you had twelve months to make it to the World Cup.

[mikuluvu]

A/N: GUYS HERE IT IS!!! MY FIRST COD X READER!! BASICALLY, THIS A TF141 X READER! OMG I LOVED THIS.

TF141 X ASSASIN!READER

Lasswell sent them to get Intel from you... Or did she just want to make the team introduce you?

Price adjusted his cap, scanning the perimeter with a sharp eye. Soap stood beside him, muttering under his breath while Gaz and Ghost remained close, weapons ready.

“Intel says she’s here,” Gaz said, voice low. “Lasswell wants her alive and... cooperative.”

“She’s an assassin, Gaz, not a lost puppy,” Ghost muttered.

“Stay sharp,” Price commanded. “If half the things Lasswell said about her are true, we’ll need every edge we can get.”

Lasswell had briefed them earlier: Y/N, codename ‘Viper’. A one-woman army.

But what Lasswell hadn’t mentioned was your flair.

The team breached the building silently, fanning out. The place was eerily quiet, save for the faint sound of jazz playing somewhere deeper inside. Ghost signaled, and the team moved towardbwhere the music is coming from.

When they entered the main hall, you were already waiting—lounging comfortably in an armchair, a glass of whiskey in one hand, the other playing lazily with a combat knife.

“Well, well, well…” you purred, a smirk dancing across your lips. “You know, boys, if you wanted my attention, you could’ve just called.”

Soap stiffened, his hand instinctively tightening around his rifle. Price raised an eyebrow, and Gaz looked downright confused. Ghost simply stared.

“Y/N,” Price said cautiously. “We’re here for the intel. No need for this to get messy.”

You tilted your head, studying them with an amused glint in your eyes. “But messy is so fun, Captain.”

Before any of them could react, the lights cut out. A rush of movement, a flurry of expertly thrown smoke grenades, and in under five minutes… The 4 of them found themselves tied to sturdy chairs, weapons confiscated (dont ask me how lol)

When the lights flickered back on, you stood before them, arms crossed, looking way too pleased with yourself.

“Oh, boys, you make this too easy.”

Soap struggled against his restraints. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ joking. Four of us, a single woman did all of this?”

You sauntered over to him, leaning close enough for him to smell your perfume. “Correction, sweetheart. One very talented woman.”

Gaz sighed. “Lasswell’s gonna love this.”

As if on cue, your phone buzzed. You put it on speaker. “Lasswell, darling, you’ve really got to send me a better challenge next time.”

Lasswell’s laughter echoed through the phone of the speaker. “I should’ve warned them about your… style, Y/N. But you’ve made your point. Let them go. And behave.”

You sighed dramatically. “Fine, fine. You’re no fun, Kate.”

With a few swift movements, their restraints fell away. Ghost rubbed his wrists, muttering something under his breath.

“Now, now,” you cooed. “No hard feelings, right?”

Price stood, brushing dust off his coat. “You’re quite the woman, aren’t ya’?”

You walked over to a side table, pouring four glasses of whiskey and handing one to each of them. “Come on, Captain. You can’t say you didn’t enjoy this little encounter of ours?.”

Soap accepted his glass, cheeks slightly flushed as you winked at him. Gaz cleared his throat awkwardly when you leaned against his chair, tracing a finger along his shoulder.

“And you,” you turned to Ghost, stepping into his space. “I bet you’re all broody under that mask, but I know you were impressed.”

Ghost didn’t flinch, but the slight shift of his shoulders gave him away.

“So, what now?” Price asked, sipping his whiskey.

You raised your glass with a sly smile. “Now? You tell Lasswell you couldn’t catch me, I give you your intel, and you admit that I’m the most charming asset you’ve ever met.”

The team exchanged glances before Price chuckled, raising his glass. “To Viper—may we never end up on your bad side again.”

You clinked glasses with them, satisfaction radiating from your smirk.

“Careful, Captain,” you purred. “Flattery might just make me keep you all tied up next time.”

Soap nearly choked on his drink while Gaz muttered something about needing a vacation. Ghost simply turned away, but even behind the mask, you could feel the smirk he was hiding.

You leaned casually against the table, swirling the amber liquid in your glass. “Well, boys, it’s been fun playing cat and mouse, but I think it’s time we move to more civilized activities, don’t you think?”

Soap raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly are you suggestin’, lass?”

You smirked, setting your glass down with a soft clink. “Dinner. My treat.”

Gaz blinked. “Dinner? Like… food?”

“No, Gaz, like target practice,” Ghost said dryly, earning a chuckle from Price.

You clapped your hands together. “Come on, gentlemen. I’ve already proven I could’ve killed you four times over by now, but instead, I tied you up and gave you whiskey. That’s practically an invitation to be friends.”

Price gave you a long look before sighing. “Alright, lass. But if you try anything—”

You interrupted with a cheeky grin. “Oh, Captain, if I wanted to try anything, you’d already know.”

Soap let out a low whistle while Ghost shook his head, muttering something unintelligible.

An Hour Later

The makeshift dining area wasn’t anything fancy—just an old wooden table you’d scavenged, set with mismatched chairs and dim overhead lighting. But you’d managed to pull together a surprisingly decent spread: steak, roasted vegetables, and a fresh loaf of bread.

Soap stared at his plate. “Not gonna lie… didn’t expect this from a … assassin.”

You poured red wine into Price’s glass and winked. “What can I say? I’m full of surprises.”

Price raised his glass slightly. “I’ll admit, Y/N, this is… unexpected.”

“Unexpected can be good, Captain.” You slid into the seat at the head of the table, glass in hand. “You boys are too used to constant firefights and rations. Let a girl spoil you for one night.”

Gaz took a bite, eyes going wide. “Okay… this is actually good.”

You smirked. “Don’t sound so surprised, darling. I’m not just good at breaking necks and slipping away unseen.”

Ghost, who had been quiet most of the evening, finally spoke up. “How’d you and Lasswell got close anyway?”

You took a sip of your wine, eyes glinting with fondness. “Kate and I go way back. Long before I became… this. She’s one of the few people I trust.”

The table went quiet for a moment, the weight of your words settling over the group.

As the night went on, the conversation flowed with laughter, banter, and stories shared between bites of food and sips of wine. You fit in surprisingly well, your sharp wit bouncing effortlessly off Soap’s charm, Gaz’s casual humor, and even Ghost’s dry sarcasm.

Price leaned back in his chair as the meal came to an end, eyeing you with something akin to respect. “You know, Y/N… for someone Lasswell sent us to handle, you’re not half bad.”

You raised your glass one last time. “And for a bunch of world-class soldiers who got themselves tied to chairs by one woman… you’re not half bad either.”

.

.

.

You stood by the warehouse doors, arms crossed, watching them prepare to leave.

But… you weren’t quite done with them yet.

“Leaving so soon, boys?” you said, stepping forward with a sly smile. “No proper goodbye?”

Soap chuckled, running a hand through his mohawk. “What, you want a hug or somethin’, bonnie?”

You stepped up to him, tilting your head slightly as your fingers traced the edge of his vest. “Oh, Johnny… I was thinking something a little more memorable.”

Before he could respond, you leaned in and pressed a quick, soft kiss to his lips. It wasn’t long, but it was enough to leave Soap blinking in stunned silence, a faint blush creeping up his neck.

“Careful now,” you purred. “Don’t go falling for me.”

Gaz let out a low whistle. “Well, that’s… one way to say goodbye.”

You turned to him next, stepping close enough for him to feel your breath against his cheek. “And you, Sergeant Garrick… don’t think you’re getting off so easily.”

You placed a gentle kiss on Gaz’s lips, your hand lingering briefly on his chest before you pulled away with a smirk. Gaz stammered for a second, rubbing the back of his neck while Soap laughed at him.

Ghost shifted awkwardly in the background, arms crossed. You turned your attention to him, your grin widening.

“Oh, Ghost,” you cooed, walking toward him. “Don’t tell me you’re shy under all that black gear.”

You stopped just inches away, your gloved fingers lightly tracing along the edge of his mask. “May I?”

He hesitated for a brief moment before giving you a subtle nod. Slowly, you lifted the mask just enough to expose his lips, and without another word, you leaned in. The kiss was brief but surprisingly tender, and when you pulled back, you lowered his mask with a teasing smile.

“There now… that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Ghost said nothing, but the way his head dipped slightly told you enough.

Finally, you turned to Captain Price. He stood there, hold the straps on his body, his muscles bulging, watching you with an unreadable expression beneath the brim of his cap.

“Well, Captain,” you said softly, stepping right into his space. “What about you?”

Price’s voice was low, gravelly. “You’ve had your fun, Y/N. Don’t push it.”

But you didn’t back down. Instead, your hand came up to rest lightly against his chest. “Come on, Captain… you’re not scared of me, are you?”

Price let out a long sigh, his shoulders relaxing just slightly. “You’re a damn menace, you know that?”

You grinned. “And yet, you can’t resist.”

Before he could say another word, you closed the distance between you. The kiss started slow—hesitant, almost cautious—but it didn’t stay that way for long. Price’s hand came up to cradle the back of your head, pulling you deeper into the kiss as he stepped a little forward.

Your fingers tangled in the fabric of his coat as the kiss grew more intense, filled with a mix of tension, curiosity, and something neither of you wanted to name. When you finally pulled away, both of you were slightly breathless.

“Well, Captain,” you said softly, your lips curling into a wicked smile. “That was… thorough.”

Price stepped back, adjusting his hat and clearing his throat. “Right. Enough of that.”

Soap and Gaz were wide-eyed, while Ghost turned slightly away as if trying to give the two of you privacy—though you were fairly certain he was smirking under that mask.

“Well, gentlemen,” you said, stepping back into the shadows. “It’s been a pleasure… in many ways.”

Price gave you one final look, his voice steady. “Until next time, Y/N.”

You blew them a playful kiss as they walked out into the night, their silhouettes fading into the darkness.

Once they were gone, you leaned against the wall, a satisfied smirk on your face.

“Oh, Lasswell’s definitely going to hear about this one.”

.

.

.

The team sat in the briefing room around a table. The air was thick with silence, broken only by the occasional throat-clearing or the sound of someone shifting uncomfortably in their seat.

Price sat at the head of the table, arms crossed, hat pulled low. Soap was slouched in his chair, staring very intently at the table surface as if it might provide him with answers. Gaz fidgeted with his pen, and Ghost… well, Ghost was Ghost—silent, arms crossed, but the tips of his ears, barely visible under the edge of his mask, were suspiciously red.

The holo-screen flickered to life, and Lasswell’s face appeared. She looked far too amused.

“Well, gentlemen,” Lasswell said smoothly, her lips twitching upward. “I got Y/N’s report. It was… unbelievable.” she snorted

Price sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. “Lasswell, if you’re about to—”

“Oh no, Captain,” Lasswell cut him off, her grin spreading wider. “I wouldn’t dare tease Task Force 141. The most elite squad in the world. The same squad that was tied to chairs, kissed silly, and left flustered in an abandoned warehouse by one very charming assassin.”

Soap groaned, burying his face in his hands. “For the love of—Lasswell, please.”

Gaz muttered, “I’m never gonna live this down, am I?”

Ghost shifted in his seat but said nothing. The slight tilt of his head told everyone he was definitely embarrassed.

Lasswell continued, tapping her chin in mock thought. “Let’s see… Soap, you went all wide-eyed and blushy. Gaz, you couldn’t even form a proper sentence after your little moment. Ghost—oh, Ghost—let her lift your mask? My, my, what trust!”

Ghost’s head snapped up slightly, but he said nothing, arms crossing even tighter over his chest.

“And Captain Price.” Lasswell’s smirk turned downright wicked. “Oh, Captain. You didn’t just get a kiss, did you? No, no… You got the full VIP treatment.”

Soap choked on his coffee. Gaz’s eyes went wide. Ghost let out an audible sigh.

Price pinched the bridge of his nose. “Are we done here, Kate?”

Lasswell leaned closer to the screen, “Just one last thing, Captain—Y/N said, and I quote, ‘Tell Price I’ll be dreaming about that kiss tonight.’”

The room fell into stunned silence. Soap wheezed, Gaz stared at the screen like it might explode, and even Ghost let out a low, muffled snort.

Price’s face remained stoic, but the faintest tinge of pink crept up his neck. “Right. Briefing’s over. Dismissed.”

Soap practically bolted from his chair, muttering something about needing “a moment.” Gaz followed, shaking his head and mumbling, “I’ll never recover from this.” Ghost got up wordlessly, hands shoved deep into his pockets.

As they filed out, Lasswell’s voice echoed from the screen. “Oh, don’t worry, boys. Y/N sends her love.”

The screen flickered off, leaving Price alone in the room. He let out a long, exhausted sigh and leaned back in his chair.

“Bloody assassin.”

But despite himself, a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

A/n: I had to make you and price make out... Your welcome <3

Thanks for reading! Reblogs w/comments is appreciated. You can support me by donating 1 dolla dolla on my ko-fi

[hearts4johnwick]

SUMMARY. your school has a football game against smallville. after the game clark kent approaches you and asks if you want to hang out, but there’s one problem.

CW. academic rivals—except clark and reader rlly don’t hate each other, reader’s “boyfriend” doesn’t take no for an answer, fighting, fluff.

A/N. guys… before you read, i have to say I JUST started watching smallville 😭 I’m on season 1 ep 5, so some I’m going to be improvising some stuff, so, clark isn’t going to be like s1 clark, he’s going to be a bit like red k clark? so, there’s that. the ending lowkey makes me mad 😔 but yall lmk if yall want a pt 2 maybe? 😗

you and your cheerleaders celebrate your team for winning the football game against smallville with chants, flips, and jumps. you guys were happy that you won after losing two games in a row, first one was against gotham and the other against central city, which was weird because these teams haven’t won against metropolis in decades, but, the team won once again and that’s what matters tonight.

“troy’s in for a real treat tonight, huh?” your friend avery cocks her eyebrows and you chuckle. “he scored the winning touchdown, you have to rock his world, baby.” she winks at you and goes with her other cheerleading friends. your tongue runs over your teeth as you try to hide your annoyed face.

the footballers run over to the squad and you stand aside, you’re the captain, you should be there sharing the moment with them, but you don’t, you stay a few feet away ruffling your Pom poms and smiling.

you have a few friends from smallville since you were raised there, you and your brother moved to metropolis with your parents because your father had been offered a nice job there, and he took it. you recognize lana lang, whitney fordman, chloe sullivan, pete ross, and of course, clark kent.

your dad and his were practically brothers, they were inseparable ever since the sixth grade, but as they grew older, before moving to metropolis, clark’s father suddenly stopped associating with your father. you never knew why, it wasn’t your business, but now that you see clark’s face, you might ask your father.

your thoughts are interrupted by a figure standing in front of you, you focus back and it’s none other than clark kent!

“i gotta say… your dancing skills were always bad, but now? oh, they got worse.” you raise an eyebrow as he grimaces.

“yeah? well at least i still don’t run like I’m scared of tripping my own feet.” you press your lips into a thin line.

“you know, every time your squad threw you up in the air i was waiting for them not to catch you and let you fall into the dirt.”

“i didn’t see your dad here… guess he still regrets the decision to adopt you.” you click your tongue and he chuckles.

“okay, I’m going to give you that one.” you smile and shrug.

“what are you doing here, kent?” you question.

“you’re in my school’s football field, if there’s someone that should be here, it’s me.” he furrows his eyebrows.

“yeah no, after that nasty loss? might have to claim this as our territory now.” clark scoffs and looks down. “7-24? yikes!” you exclaim and inhale sharply through your teeth. “go home, kent, or else our team will show you no remorse.” you cross your arms together and he gets closer, towering over you.

“what about you? what will you do?” your eye contact is strong, and you’re teasing him with a cocky smile, but his charming eyes get you weak in the knees, you scoff and look down, giving in.

“i’m not going to do anything, i don’t have the heart.” you pursed your lips. in a blink, you notice clark’s hand shielding your face, in his hand was the football that connor, the linebacker from your team just threw. you didn’t even notice how badly you flinched, but you stayed still, staring at clark’s heroic move in awe, your eyes travel from his hand holding the football, to him. and you swear that something inside you snapped, the way he made the football stop from hitting you, how fast he reacted, that made you feel something you didn’t even know clark kent was possible of making you feel.

“holy—! i’m so sorry, y/n, i didn’t mean for it to go in your direction!” connor apologizes, but you shoot him a death glare.

“what the hell is your problem, connor?!” troy pushes connor and rolls his eyes.

“i didn’t mean to throw it at her! it was meant for kent!” clark rolls his eyes and throws the football back to him.

“thank you, kent.” you slowly straighten yourself up. “that was crazy, what on earth are you training for that makes your reflexes so fast?” you question and he just shrugs with a smile.

silence engulfs the two of you and it feels awkward, the only thing heard was the screaming and chanting of your cheerleading squad and the football team. clark’s eyes narrow from all around, to you, he feels nervous around you, but, the worst thing she can say is no, he thinks, so he—

“y/n.” he calls you and catches your attention. “i was thinking if maybe you’d like to hang out… later.” you shoot him a soft smile and he analyzes your reaction. “i mean, i-if you can, I’m sure you’re going to celebrate your win with your squad and team, nevermind..” he shakes his head, regretting he even asked you. ‘it’s not like she was going to go out with you anyway, clark, she’s with troy.’ he thinks. he thought it’d be game over until—

“no, i don’t plan on celebrating, i wanna be alone, you know? i don’t want to party or anything. i-i mean, I’d like to be alone with you.” you close your eyes and shake your head once you realize what you said. clark can feel the heatness creeping up his face and he laughs. “oh my gosh… i mean that like, yes! I’d like to hang out with you!” ‘jeez, no way I’m actually this awkward. I’m literally embarrassing myself oh my God, I’m going to cry’ you thought.

“great! maybe we can meet up in the beanery? it’s—“ your eyes widen and you shake your head.

“the beanery? that old thing?” you question and clark furrows his eyebrows.

“hey!” you raise your hands in defense.

“no, we’re going somewhere better, there’s this diner in central city called dine fine, we can go there, we can dine something or share a milkshake, whatever you’d like!” you smile at him and he nods.

“okay, sounds great! it’s a da—“ your smile turned into an annoyed look when you felt arms wrap around you and lips kiss your cheek. troy, your “boyfriend” watches clark’s expression change and shoots him a wink. clark can feel his face heat up, and it’s not blushing, or jealousy, he closes his eyes to avoid burning troy to a crisp.

“what’s up, kent?” troy greets clark with a bitch attitude. “she’s precious, isn’t she?” your eyes avoid troy’s, but are glued onto clark, and he can see you’re feeling uncomfortable, and you don’t know how badly he wants to smack the hell out of troy and tell him to back off from you. and he doesn’t know how badly you want him to do it. troy raises an eyebrow, urging him to answer the question.

“yes, she is, troy. you’re a lucky guy.” clark’s eyes never leave you, troy notices how yours don’t either, and his nose flares.

“i know.” he smiles. troy pulls you aside, away from clark. “hey, we’re going out to celebrate, you want us to go back to my place, or go out?” he asks you, and you pull away, shaking your head.

“it’s okay, troy, i don’t want to go out.” you cross your arms and troy smirks, he glances at clark behind you.

“okay, so, you want to go back to mine?” he asks, and you furrow your eyebrows.

“no.” troy’s eyebrows raise in reaction to your tone, and clark hides a smile, and forces back down his laugh.

“okay, whatever, we’re going to go out and celebrate, let me know if you change your mind.” you nod and he leaves. your friend alanna walks over to you and locks her arm around yours.

“ready to go?” she asks and you nod.

“yeah, give me a second, I’ll be right there.” your friend nods with a cute smile and her eyes narrow between you and clark before she walks to her car.

“so, I’ll see you maybe at 8?” clark questions.

you nod at his timing and he smiles. “I’ll see you there, kent.” you turn in your heels and walk to your friend's car.

clark admires you from head to heels and god, you in that skimpy cheerleading outfit did something to him. he blows out a breath after admiring your figure and smiles to himself, trying to hold back on his thoughts. he can’t believe he’s going to see you again later, and neither can you.

you tell alanna to take you to your grandma’s house so you can shower and change your clothes. since you visit your grandma quite often, you have clothes you wear once in a while there, so after a shower, you ready yourself and head to central city right after you’re done.

since alanna is heading to metropolis due to work, she gives you a ride to the diner where you are meeting up with clark. “have fun, sweetheart, love ya!” she blew you a kiss before driving away. you blew her a kiss back and waved goodbye.

you don’t see clark inside, but you decide to enter anyway, and just as you are a few feet away from the entrance doors, your name is called out, and when you look at where the voice is coming from you notice it’s clark, your face lights up, and so does his.

‘woah.’ clark thinks to himself, for some reason, he thinks you look better in casual clothes than in your cheerleading outfit. not that he’s complaining, he loves your cheerleading outfit, the colors favor you and it shows the perfect amount of everything.

‘damn.’ you think to yourself. he’s wearing a cap with a graphic tee that shapes his biceps perfectly. ‘forget the damn diner, I wanna dine him!’ you lick your lips to hide your smile at the thought.

“hey.” he greets you first with his pearly smile.

“hi.” you say right back and also give him your pearly smile.

he places his hand behind your shoulder and you lead the way, he opens the door for you and you go inside, the 80’s music is at the perfect volume, it smells amazing inside, and overall the vibe is nice.

you sit down at one of the benches and clark sits in front of you. “is there something you want in specific?” he asks.

“we could order some fries with some nuggets, unless you actually wanna find something?” your eyes meet and he stays silent, studying your eyes he opens his mouth to speak, yet nothing comes out. you laugh and look back at the menu.

“whatever you want.” clark answers your question. “I’m okay with whatever you decide.”

“okay, well, I’ll order some fries and nuggets, and ooh! you have to try their strawberry milkshake, it’s so good, so, we’re ordering that too!” clark’s eyes stay glued on you, your excitement makes his heart melt, he loves this side of you. ever since you moved to metropolis, he thought you’d turned into this cocky, mean, captain of the cheerleading squad, but, he’s been proven completely wrong. he still sees that little bullet of a girl with princess band-aids all over her arms, and legs in your personality. “is it okay if we order that?”

“as i said, y/n. whatever you want.” he nods and you smile widely with a chuckle. “you know, for some reason, i thought that when you moved to metropolis you turned into this mean, and cocky cheerleader, but no. can i ask? why aren’t you celebrating out there with your squad and team?”

“I’m nothing like that, the rest of my squad? maybe—except alanna! but i don’t like that whole cocky mean girl vibe, i tried it, just to fit in, but fitting in is stupid, so, outside i might seem like that, but once you get to know me, i’m not.” clark nods, paying his every single attention to you. “and the thing is i don’t celebrate with them because they have a really weird way of celebrating and i don’t want to be getting drunk or anything. I’d rather be relaxed, or hanging out with my real friends, you know?” clark nods.

“i like that.” your eyes find their way back to his and you smile. “i don’t want to sound nosy, but… you and troy?” he watches the drastic change in your face from happy to disgusted and he laughs. “that bad, huh?”

“it’s all fake. the football coach just wanted that typical “captain of the football team and captain of the cheerleading squad” love story, but, there’s not one ounce of love between us.”

“i mean, i see love in his eyes.” clark mentions and you scoff.

“lust is what you’re seeing, clark.” you hold your breath and clark closes his eyes. “i can’t stand him, he’s a jerk, he doesn’t take no for an answer and it’s the worst, someone always has to come in and step in, even his teammates.” you roll your eyes.

“I’m sorry, y/n.” you dismiss him with a shrug. “i saw it in your eyes today, that’s what i saw, and i wanted to do something, but i thought it wasn’t my place. i should’ve done something. i hated seeing him on you like that.” clark shakes his head and looks away from your eyes, you place your hand on his forearm, your warm touch sends him goosebumps all over his body, your eyes speak a million words, and his mind runs a thousand thoughts as he takes in every inch of your perfect face, your eyes, your lips.

“thank you, for at least knowing the right thing to do. also, thank you for that crazy save from me getting hit by a football.” you both share a laugh and he nods. he places a hand over yours and smiles.

“you’re welcome, and, you’re welcome.” your smile relaxes into a softer one, and the two of you stay staring into each other’s eyes, no other words need to be spoken, your eyes already do.

his ocean eyes tell you everything you need to know, does he need to admit how he feels right now? his heart racing, how he wants to feel your soft hands all over his body? his eyes are saying all of that to yours.

and yours? your eyes are begging for him to save you. for him to make you forget who troy even is. one more look and you swear you’re moving back to smallville, or more specifically, his bed.

“clark…” the way his name rolls off your tongue is something he could never get tired of, he prays that whatever comes out of your pretty little mouth is an invitation.

“kent!” the familiar voice knocks you both out of your trance and your eyes widen. you look back and see troy and half of his teammates walk behind him. “you mind getting your hands off my girl?”

“troy…” you whisper.

“you shut up, okay? get in the car. we’re going back to metropolis.” troy points at you with his index finger, and you swallow the lump in your throat.

“you call her your girl and then treat her like that?” clark raises an eyebrow and stands from the bench. your heart begins to race and not in a good way. there’s no possible way this is going to end well.

“she’s my girl, kent, that means that since she’s mine, i get to treat her however i want.” troy’s teammates share uncomfortable glances and shake their heads.

“she is not your pet, troy. you need to treat her right, like she’s the woman you love because that’s what she is, isn’t she?” clark towers over troy and you like that, you like that very much, apart from the fact that he’s defending you. but you push back your feelings and thoughts, because you’re scared right now, scared for both in reality.

“and if i don’t? you think you will? in your dreams, kent.” he scoffs, and walks over to you, grabbing your hand. “come on, y/n. we’re going home.” he raises you from your seat, and you stand beside him. just when you thought this could all end here, Clark decides to open his mouth.

“i would treat her better than you ever have.” your mouth opens, and you try your best to hide your smile. when troy’s grip around you loosens, your face drops.

next thing you see is troy swinging at clark with a right hook, you back away and troy’s teammates hold you back. “no!” you exclaim at troy’s punch. thankfully, clark reacted quickly and dodged it, but then, clark grabbed troy by the collar of his shirt and pressed him against the wall.

“clark, no!” you stop him from causing further damage and he slowly lets go of troy. you wanted to troy get what he deserved, but, just not now. the time will come. “let’s just go.”

“i don’t want to see you step foot in smallville again. if i so much as see your face, or hear that you did something to her, i’ll deal with you for good.” clark throws in before walking off. you follow behind him and leave the diner.

you were still trying to process what the hell just happened in there, clark defended you and went face-to-face with troy because he disrespected you. ‘oh my god?’

clark has his back against you, your eyes look up and he turns. “clark… what—“ you blink repeatedly.

“y/n. if he ever lays a single finger on you again, you let me know, alright?” you nod and hum. he nods and caresses your arm. “are you okay?” he asks and you hum.

“uh-huh…” clark chuckles and you inch closer to him.

you don’t exactly what you feel right now, but it feels good, and you hope he can help you with it because he’s the reason you’re feeling like this. your eyes are searching for an answer, ‘does he want this? because i sure do.’

“how far is your grandma’s house from here?” you pause in your daydreams to answer his question.

“like 15 minutes, i know the way.” you answer.

“okay, but, you’re not going alone.”

“why not? you don’t think i can handle myself?”

“oh, i know you can handle yourself, but, let me take you, ‘kay?” you smile at his offer and suck on your bottom lip before you lead the way.

the walk to your grandma’s house was silent, thankfully, it wasn’t uncomfortable silence, but the two of you were on the verge of speaking, you just had no idea of what. of the sexual tension before troy ruined it? of the almost fight? how clark defended you? why did he defend you exactly? God, you think that whatever the answer is, it’d land you both on top of each other.

clark can see how your heart is beating quickly, and he doesn’t know if it’s because you’re either scared, mad, nervous, or maybe just turned on. it’s the fourth option, you know that very well, but he thinks it’s the second.

“I’m sorry, y/n.” he speaks, breaking the eternal lasting silence between you two. “i-i didn’t mean to scare you or make you mad by what happened at the diner. it’s just… you don’t deserve that asshole.” the two of you stop in your tracks. you flutter your eyelashes at him and he thinks it’s the cutest thing ever, he swallows before speaking again. “and I’m also sorry that we didn’t get to share a milkshake.”

“apology not accepted,” you say. his face drops and your eyebrows furrowed. “they’re not needed, clark.” he sighs in relief and you smile. you continue your walk, you’re about 3 minutes away from your grandma’s house, but you wish it were hours instead, you do not want to say goodbye to him at all.

“i’m glad we could share this night, clark.” as you arrive at your grandma’s house, you stop your feet and turn to face him. the only light that’s making you able to see each other is your grandma’s porch lighting. “would’ve been better if we could’ve shared a milkshake, but…” you sputter and he chuckles.

“it’s okay, just a moment with you is enough for me.” his words made your knees weak, you lick your lips and suck your bottom lip in, close your eyes, and feel his index finger brushes your cheek. your eyes open and reunite with his.

“can we stay like this?” you whisper, as your eyes travel to his lips.

“yeah.” he whispers back, his finger still caressing your cheek.

his hand finds its way to your waist and he pulls you forward, your chest touching his, your breathing matches and you’re still deep into each other’s eyes.

‘if only he knew I’m sending him the most straightforward invitation to come inside.’ you think right as your eyes remove themselves from his lips and back into his eyes.

your tongue traces over your teeth and you smile. you look down to the ground and lean forward. you press a soft kiss on clark’s cheek and he closes his eyes. when you back away, your lips are so close to each other, and his eyes have the green light on for your lips to move to his, and as much as you want to, you don’t, though you could feel his slightly rose yours.

“i’ll be seeing you around, kent.” you smirk as you run your hand over his arms, again, your gentle touch sends goosebumps through his body, the second your fingertips are removed from his skin, he misses you already, all he wishes to do is turn you back around and make you all his for the rest of the night.

your heels touch the ground and you turn, approaching your grandmother’s steps, you tease him with a look back and a mocking grin, and he chuckles as he watches your expression. the second you enter the door he runs back to his house, but, safe to say that wasn’t the end of his night.

❛ ‘cause you’re a good girl and you know it

you act so different around me. ❜

[itsnesss]

hi can you do a sensei wolf x fem, larusso reader? And can reader be slightly older then sam.

also reader is captain instead of sam

can you also add smut? only if ur comfortable with it.

𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬 | sensei wolf × fem!reader

summary | secret romance develops between a miyagi-do captain and sensei Wolf during the sekai taikai tournament, leading to an intense and risky night together

warnings | smut, age gap, explicit content, fingering, p in v, protected sex

word count | 3.0 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me thanks ᡣ𐭩

The Sekai Taikai had started with a dazzling brilliance, teams gathered in one place, fighting for their respective victories. The roar of the crowd, the intense emotions of each fight, the sweat and exhaustion building up in your muscles... All of this made up the bustling scene around you, but nothing captivated you as much as one single thought. Him.

Sensei Wolf of the Iron Dragons dojo. His steel-like eyes, his imposing figure, his presence so powerful that it felt like the walls bent around him. But it wasn’t just that. From the first moment your eyes met his, something inside you changed. You didn’t know if it was the challenge he emanated, his unwavering posture, or the fact that, even with his authority, there was something human about him that attracted you. Something that, unintentionally, awakened something in you.

You remember the first fight you saw him in. It wasn’t just the way he led his team that caught your attention. It was his gaze. Deep, unshakable, as if everything he did had a purpose. It wasn’t just his physical attractiveness. A born sensei, yes, but there was something more. Something dangerous. Something that piqued your curiosity, even though you knew you should have kept your distance. After all, you were the captain of Miyagi-Do. You shouldn’t get distracted, especially not by someone like him. Someone older.

The tension between you two didn’t go unnoticed. You didn’t speak much, but the looks said it all. Every time you crossed paths, you could feel the electricity in the air. It seemed as if everything came down to those moments when he looked at you.

As the tournament went on, your encounters with him became more frequent. Not in an obvious way, of course. Everything was carefully camouflaged in the bustle, in the hallways, in the corners of the stadium. It seemed like fate was pushing you both to be near each other. And although in your mind you said you shouldn’t get involved, that it wasn’t right, your steps kept drawing you closer to him.

It was the first time you both shared a brief encounter alone when something changed. The rest of the Miyagi-Do team was busy with their training, and you decided to go to the locker room to relax for a few minutes. But when you arrived, you found a familiar figure, but in some way, now impossible to ignore.

Sensei Wolf was there, standing, as if he had been waiting for you. His presence filled the space, but it wasn’t an oppressive one. It was as if the world spun around him, with him at the center. Just being near him made you feel a strange mixture of calm and anxiety. And when his eyes met yours, you couldn’t help but feel a shiver, as if something beyond superficial attraction was at play.

"Everything okay?" he asked, his deep voice echoing in the empty locker room.

You hadn’t expected that question. You hadn’t expected him to speak to you like that. But you couldn’t deny that something in his tone, a genuine kind of interest, made you relax a little.

"Yeah, I just need a moment to breathe." Your words were soft, but at the same time, you felt an internal tension you couldn’t control. You took a step closer without thinking too much about the consequences.

He didn’t say anything but took a step toward you. Somehow, your body reacted before your mind. An impulse, a need to be closer. The brush of his arm against yours made everything in your chest quicken. You didn’t realize when it happened, but somehow, his lips were on yours.

The kiss was as unexpected as it was overwhelming. At first, you didn’t know how to react. It was as if all the training, all the discipline you had built up collapsed in an instant. Wolf’s hands found your waist, and the pressure of his body against yours made you lose yourself in that moment. The heat between you two grew, intensified, and the need for more overtook you both. There was no time to think, only the desire to explore this inexplicable connection that bound you together.

When you pulled away, the air between you was charged with something more than simple desire. It was a shared need, a recognition that there was something more between you two.

"This can’t be," you whispered, your voice low. You knew you should pull away, that you shouldn’t continue this. But you couldn’t help it. Something inside you wanted more.

"I know," he replied, his breath still heavy. He didn’t seem regretful. Rather, he seemed as determined as you to follow through with what had started, even though you both knew it wasn’t right.

From that moment on, you began seeing each other in secret. The encounters were brief, stolen between training sessions, between fights, in any dark corner of the stadium or empty hallways. Every time you met, the desire grew stronger, the connection between you became undeniable. The touch of his skin against yours, the stolen kisses, the furtive caresses, it all became more intense and complicated. No matter what you told yourself, the desire to be with him didn’t fade.

There was something in the way you touched, in the way you looked at each other, that kept you both hooked in this dangerous game. The kisses became more urgent, more passionate. Every time you pulled apart, it was as if the world returned to normal, but inside you knew everything was changing. It was as if the attraction was something stronger than any unwritten rule.

As the captain of Miyagi-Do, you had always kept control, always been the girl everyone expected, the daughter of Daniel LaRusso, the example of what a karate student should be: disciplined, focused, perfect. Nothing made you happier than meeting that expectation, but something about him made you want to break those rules, stop being the perfect daughter of LaRusso for just a moment. But you knew you couldn’t. No one could find out. No one could know what was happening between you two. Especially not your dojo mates, and definitely not your father.

One quiet night after an exhausting day, it happened in a secluded corner. You were there, waiting, when you felt him approaching. His steps were silent, but you knew he was there.

When he found you, without saying a word, he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you toward him with a force that left you breathless. And then, the kiss. It was more intense than ever, filled with everything you both needed, everything you both knew couldn’t last. But in that moment, nothing mattered more than being together.

"This can’t go on," you said, this time with more certainty.

"It doesn’t matter," he replied, looking into your eyes with that intensity only he could have.

He took your hand and led you to his hotel room.

You didn't expect it, but you couldn't refuse either. You disappeared into his arms, inside his room. And it was there that something deeper between the two of you was unlocked.

The door closed behind you, and you approached him.

"This is dangerous," you said, but you knew you wouldn't stop now.

"I know". He smiled, the shine of his white teeth reflected in the darkness. And it was then that everything began.

"Kiss me," you said. You knew what it could mean, but you couldn't avoid it anymore.

He nodded and leaned towards you, his gaze intense. His mouth found yours, and the kiss was more passionate than ever. The desire grew, and your body began to react in a strange way.

His hands slid over your shoulders, down your arms, until they touched the exposed skin of your wrists. The sensation of his fingers against yours was a kind of electric shock that ran through your entire body, making you want more.

The touch of his lips on yours became more intense, more exploratory. Your breath quickened in your chest, and your arms began to wrap around him. You didn't know what to do, but something inside you knew that you didn't need experience to move forward.

The clothes slid down, and the kisses became more intense. It was as if both of them needed something that only they could give. His skin felt smooth against yours. And the touch was a sensation you had never felt before.

The caresses were gentle yet urgent, his hands glided over your skin, meeting the muscles of your arms and legs, until they reached the curve of your hips.

He undressed and approached you. Your body began to react.

"It's okay," he said, his voice deep but calm. His gaze met yours, and you both knew that something else was about to change. Something else was going to happen.

You nodded, and he led you to the bed.

You lay down on the bed, and Wolf approached you. His kisses were wild, exploratory, and his touch was soft yet firm.

"I'm a little nervous," you said in a whisper.

"It's okay, you shouldn't be" he replied. His gaze was intense, yet at the same time reassuring. You knew you could trust him.

You nodded. His fingers slid down your thighs, towards your belly, towards your ribs, until they reached your breasts. The touch on them made you gasp. His fingers found your nipples, and gently caressed them. The sensation was as if your nipples hardened a little more, as if they were responding to his caresses. The desire began to grow in your chest.

Your breath began to quicken a little more in your chest when his fingers found the curve of your thighs. The touch became increasingly urgent, and his fingers began to trace their way downwards.

His fingers traced the path down to your legs, to your knees, to your ankles.

"Do you want me to continue?" he asked in a whisper, his lips brushing against your ears.

You nodded, without taking your eyes off his.

"You can stop whenever you want," he said. His voice was deep, calm. But your body seemed to respond to his words. Your breathing began to calm down a bit.

Wolf's fingers found their way to the curve of your breasts, downwards, to your thighs, and to your crotch. The fingers traced the path between your open legs, and the touch on your intimate parts made them harden.

Wolf moved a little closer to you, his erection brushed against your thighs. The sensation overwhelmed you, frightened you. But somehow you knew it was normal. His fingers kept caressing you, kept finding their way to your nipples, to your ribs. And his lips found yours in a deep, passionate kiss.

And it was in that moment that you did it. His fingers found their way inside you, and something strange happened. The pain was intense for a moment, but it quickly turned into pleasure. The fingers traveled their way inside you, and each caress was like a wave of new, strange, and pleasurable sensations.

"Are you okay?" he asked. His breathing was labored, his gaze intense.

You nodded, your breath was also ragged.

The kisses became increasingly intense, and Wolf's fingers continued to explore your intimate parts. The sensation was intense, and you felt your legs opening a little more.

"That's it..." You didn't know what to say. You didn't know how to explain what was happening.

And it was then that the orgasm hit you. It was a wave of pleasure, of new and strange sensations. But somehow, it was something pleasant. In a way, it was liberating. Wolf's fingers withdrew a little, and his kisses became soft, reassuring.

"You're okay" he said. His lips brushed against yours, his breath calm.

"Do you want me to continue?" he asked in a whisper, his lips brushing against your ears.

You nodded, without breaking eye contact. Something inside you felt safe, something told you that you could trust their touch.

"You can stop whenever you want," he said. His voice was deep, calm. But your body seemed to respond to his words. Your breathing began to calm down a bit.

Wolf's fingers found their way to the curve of your breasts, downwards, to your thighs, and to your crotch. The touch was a new sensation, strange but pleasant. The fingers traced the path between your open legs, and the touch on your intimate parts made them harden. It was as if they responded to his caresses, as if they had a life of their own.

Wolf moved a little closer to you, his erection brushed against your thighs. The sensation overwhelmed you, frightened you. But somehow you knew it was normal. His fingers kept caressing you, kept finding their way to your nipples, to your ribs. And his lips found yours in a deep, passionate kiss.

And it was in that moment that you did it. His fingers found their way inside you, and something strange happened. The pain was intense for a moment, but it quickly turned into pleasure. The fingers traveled their way inside you, and each caress was like a wave of new, strange, and pleasurable sensations.

"Are you okay?" he asked. His breathing was labored, his gaze intense.

You nodded, your breath was also ragged.

The kisses became increasingly intense, and Wolf's fingers continued to explore your intimate parts, encountering something you didn't even know what it was. The sensation was intense, and you felt your legs opening a little more.

The fingers continued their journey inward.

And it was then that you saw it. His erection was erect, brushing against your thighs. It was big, hard, but somehow strangely attractive. And something in you wanted to see what you could do with it.

"Can I touch it?" you said in a whisper.

He nodded. His eyes sparkled a little more as he listened to you.

You took his erection between your fingers, and the touch was gentle. The touch against the skin was a strange but pleasant sensation, and something within you seemed to know what to do. You caressed him gently, and I saw his breath stop for a moment.

"That feels good," he said with a shaky voice. His gaze seemed more intense.

You smiled a little, and I kept stroking his erection. The touch was starting to make it harden a little more.

Wolf brought his lips closer to yours, and the kiss was passionate. Their breaths intertwined, their tongues found each other, and their fingers continued to caress your inner thigh.

And it was then that you felt something change. A new warmth, a deeper need. And something inside you wanted his erection to enter you.

"Do you want to do it?" you asked, your breathing had quickened a little more. You didn't know if she was ready for something like this, but something told you she was.

"I've been waiting for this all this time," she replied in a whisper. His gaze met yours.

You nodded, your eyes fixed on his face.

He took a condom from the nightstand, putting it on calmly, and that's how his erection found its way inside you. The touch was gentle at first, but when his head found your entrance, the pain was intense for a moment. Your breath caught, and you felt a slight pain that made you want it a little more.

"Are you okay? Do you want to continue?" he asked between kisses.

You nodded, and his erection slid a little deeper inside. The touch was like something moving inside you. And something strange awakened in your body.

And that's how it moved inward. The touch inside you was intense, it was a completely strange but pleasant sensation at the same time. It was as if he had found you in a place you had never been before. And every caress, every movement of his erection inside you made you feel something new, something deep.

"You are so beautiful," he said in a whisper as he continued moving inside you.

You smiled. His words made you feel safe. His caresses made you feel complete.

Her movements became increasingly faster, increasingly deeper. The kisses became more passionate, the touches more intense.

The sensation took over you. It was like an explosion of pleasure that you couldn't avoid. It was as if they had found you in a new, unknown, but pleasant place.

"Oh my god," you said, breathless.

He nodded his head. His erection kept moving inside you.

He came. The movements stopped for a moment, the touch of his erection inside you took over your entire body. The sensation was deep, intense, strange but pleasant.

When the two of them recovered a bit from the emotional outburst, things began to change. Reality returned, the reality of who they were, of what they had done.

You felt safe in his arms. You felt calm, relaxed. And it was in that moment when you knew that something else had changed. Something deeper than you ever imagined possible. Something that only the two of us knew.

The room had become quiet, but somehow you knew you shouldn't stay there for long. Your Miyagi-Do friends were starting to miss you, as you had disappeared and you didn't want that to reach your father's ears.

But before you left, Wolf hugged you a little tighter, kissing you one last time.

"Thank you," you said.

"You're welcome," he replied. His eyes shone in the darkness, and you smiled.

"I'll leave," you said. I have to go back.

"Yes" he replied, his expression calm, but it couldn't be denied that a shadow of sadness had appeared in his eyes.

You put on your gi as quickly as possible, while he lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. It was as if he were thinking about something. But you couldn't know what it was.

[cheralith]

childhood bestfriend!kaiser who accidentally finds out who you gave your first kiss to after being under the impression you still had it.

sure, you both were reaching an age where most people had already kissed another, been bedded, under-age drank, but kaiser never took you as the type to be so… promiscuous (“your dad was okay with it?” he had asked. “why the hell would i tell my dad about that.” your eye roll had never been louder.)

it was apparently some classmate you had dated briefly back in early high school, a time where you had both were barely able to see each other since kaiser spent some time in jail after being framed and after being bailed out by his manager, spent the majority of his time in his team’s training clubhouse. it didn’t help that it was quite a few towns away from your own, so communication grew weary between you and him during that time.

so when you and him finally reconnected and began to settle down with each other once again at an older age, where you and him were blooming into college, he’s amazed to see how much you had grown during the past few years, how your featured had matured into themselves so elegantly that sometimes, when you weren’t looking, he’d examine each bit of your features to get a proper look.

it was a little difficult attempting to gain a proper stance from him, since all the training at bastard mündchen had clearly done a work on him both good and bad, but when kaiser felt himself relaxing more and more with each frequented interaction with you—he’s brought back to when you were both children and didn’t know any better of the world around you.

so imagine his shock when you accidentally let it slip out that your first kiss went rather wrong as you and him are watching some sort of foreign sports movie where the main character’s long-time love interest finally kisses him.

“god i remember my first kiss,” you say casually, making kaiser snap his neck towards you so fast.

first kiss? you had your first kiss already? before he did???

sure, kaiser had a good amount of fans that flocked to him every chance they got and perhaps he’s done a little bit of entertaining to them, but even so—he still hasn’t necessarily had such a moment shared with another. he never felt like he needed to focus on it… never felt like it was some deed worth prioritizing becoming the best striker… until now.

“huh?” kaiser shuffles in his place and furrows his brows tightly, a vein barely visible from his forehead. “whaddya mean first kiss? with who? when?”

the questions shoot out all at once, you can’t help but laugh at kaiser’s (supposed) curiosity. you suppose the suspense of knowing what happened to that runt he met at eight years old has experienced since his arrest.

“oh, it was just a classmate from one of my sophomore classes,” you wave a hand, as if it was completely nothing to hold much regard to.

kaiser twitched, his eyes flickering towards your ripened lips. “and you gave him your first kiss?”

“probably my last too,” you sigh out wearily, “haven’t really had much people interested in me since then.”

he fell silent, going to scan your face again once more as you fixated your gaze to the tv, circling in on your lips again that give a soft pout. he twitched.

“he got too excited and ended up moreso clashing his mouth on mine—we ended up clacking teeth pretty hard,” you snort out as you stare in quiet amazement at how tender and soft the tv’s couple’s kisses were. “it ended up hurting too much to try and continue.”

you bite your lip, concentrated. “i dunno, i just wish it was more slowly, more… in-the-moment.”

kaiser twitched once more. noticing your wistful gaze at the movie playing in front of you and him. he flickers his eyes toward the intimate scene that you seem so focused on. he pays attention to how the lips of the two characters flow in a certain rhythm and how they meld into each other. they seem loose, relaxed, and that lack of tension made the kiss seem much more romantic.

he thinks back to some of how his teammates greet their girlfriends with kisses, or how he’ll just see a random couple locking lips with each other in the bars his team and him tended to as a celebration of a victorious game. kaiser had never felt a compulsion to experience such a thing, but there’s a strange magnetic feeling he’s getting that tugs him closer to you that is very much not his own rationale’s doing.

he says it with too much confidence. he says it like he’s done it numerous times before, like he’s a master at it, despite never even paying such avid attention to another’s lips until now. so kaiser doesn’t know why, but he suddenly blurts out,

“then let me show you a proper kiss.”

[multiheadcanons]

EVERYONE LOVES HEAVY!

aka merc relations with heavy

scout: that’s his big guy! his violent teddy bear! scout always enjoys the rare times he and heavy hang out one on one, and while he mentally can’t recall a time he hasn’t liked heavy; he’s pretty sure it’s because his body gave him a carnal note that heavy will rip his spine out and use it as a toothpick. he does his best to keep on the russian’s good side. exchanges jokes. they’ll sit together during mealtimes if nobody has beat scout to it.

soldier: that’s essentially his second in command. slow moving as he may be, if there’s only one guy on the team who can withstand more than one rocket, which is soldiers personal best without the medigun, he knows that’s his key to the city. has convinced heavy to go out for a night on the town with him before and heavy couldn’t handle being in a car that felt like it was going to fall to pieces with every mile. they’ll still go out every so often, heavy just drives a company car instead. heavy helped him figure out how to quit blowing himself up in an attempt to rocket jump.

pyro: in pyro’s eyes, heavy is their best friend in the whole world. heavy treats pyro very gently, because heavy doesn’t know what’s under there. pyro is normally the one that beats scout to the table to sit next to heavy. yapper x listener. heavy will nod solemnly to pyros nonstop muffled conversation, and will somehow give accurate and coherent answers to what pyro’s saying, and it makes pyro implode emotionally. they’ve never felt so understood. begs for hugs. if you didn’t know you would definitely think pyro had a crush on him.

demo: that’s his bud! rocky beginnings aside, they chat regularly on and off the battlefield. can occasionally beat pyro to the table to have his gab session with heavy. on the rare occasions they get to go home, they’ll ship each other alcohol from their home countries. demo doesn’t know, but heavy has kept the first bottle unbroken and sitting in his room at the base. all other bottles got drank. they also exchange jokes. they’ve tried their hand at opening a distillery in the base for some extra money. it didn’t go well. but they still laugh about it (and occasionally spend a week or two making bathtub gin to share. there was a time scout entered the bathroom for some bathtub gin and they were sitting in it, ass naked, off their rockers.)

engineer: engie is one of two people who don’t really interact with heavy enough to have a solid relationship with him. but there was a time on the battlefield that engie was getting swarmed. he had his back to the wall, and was defending his nest as best as he could. the enemy team almost destroyed everything before he heard heavy’s guttural yell and the almost silent whir of natascha build up, with medic of course being right behind him as they rounded the corner. watching the enemy team drop like flies, and watching that hulk of a man eat bullet after bullet after rocket after bullet for his little nest… it brought him to tears. he almost swooned. he yelled his thanks after him, he doesn’t know if heavy heard him over the satisfaction of bloodlust. heavy doesn’t know, but if he ever needed anything, the texan will be right behind him to help. mad scientist’d the distillery idea and electrocuted himself to the respawn machine.

medic: oh, doc’s definitely got a crush. the whole reason why everyone else fights for the one seat next to heavy is because medic is consistently on his right side. yapper x listener. storied history aside; they are a wonderful duo and make a great team. their chemistry is electric. it’s like they can read each others minds sometimes. heavy keeps medic cool headed; and the doctor will ignite heavy unlike anyone else. has joined in on the bathtub gin soaks between heavy and demo. medic’s taken rockets for heavy on the field, smiled and winked as his body was torn apart, and made his way back to heavy’s side always just in time before he’s to follow the doctors path to the respawn room. if doc can’t be there, he’s always sure to warn heavy he’ll be without support and to not die. if medic could, he would cut heavy open and live inside his skin. he would carefully remove his organs and place them in jars of formaldehyde and put those jars in a safety deposit box to keep for the rest of his natural and unnatural life. if they’re not within eyesight of each other, something is very wrong. and he thinks heavy’s cute to boot. stole a shirt from him just to have it. in case they never see each other again. he’s really grown fond of heavy throughout the years. heavy would’ve let him have it if he asked, he never wears it. he currently doesn’t even know it’s missing.

snipes: they’re like the team parents. snipes is the emotionally distant dad. they’ll chat about the silliness of their teammates, and comiserate in their idiocy. the only guy snipes goes out of his way to play a card game with. he likes heavy’s unique takes on things. likes how he’s family oriented. they have both been support systems for having hard talks with their family, because they’re the only two people who get the ache of not being with their families. he keeps an eye on heavy and medic in battle, and does what he can to keep them safe. he can’t protect heavy without also watching his doctor. if heavy spots him in his nest, they’ll wave at each other.

spy: spy is not quite sure how he’s supposed to feel about heavy. he’s currently neutral. he’s seen the man act like an absolute fool before. he’s also seen that man take control of situations on and off the battlefield. he knows he’s not dumb. he registers that heavy is intelligent, and capable, and perceptive. he just doesn’t know what he actually thinks about him. stalks him regularly while cloaked to get a better read on him. is almost… jealous of medic’s closeness to the man, despite their famed first interactions with each other. he’s not sure how to make a move into becoming his “friend”. gets awkward when he tries to speak to him.

[giggly-squiggily]

Okay you can disregard the last adk I sent for Gojo and Geto (my bad 😅)

Instead, what about the trio (Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara) getting back at Gojo for always tickling them and they succeeded

Can't wait to see what you do 💖🫶🏾

EEEE This is a bit older but YES! Gladys you always have the best prompts! I love the idea of the trio getting Gojo- my heart is so happy writing this sakjerajkejkrajkerjk I've gotcha covered! :D

“Okay guys- time to retract and regroup!” Yuji stood tall before his group, puffing his chest to exert powerful energy. Did he truly know exactly what he was saying? Not really- but he watched enough business dramas to get the idea. “Our last attempt to get Gojo-sensei was a bust. How are we gonna recover from it?”

“You mean your last attempt. I told you it wouldn’t work.” Megumi rolled his eyes, arms stretched as Nobara painted his fingernails. Their impromptu movie night turned into a salon day for the boys when her new nail polish set came in the mail. “You really should give up.”

“Never!” Yuji struck a pose, eyes ablaze. “Not after that last crushing defeat! I was so close! I could practically taste his laughter!”

“Gross- how do you even taste laughter?” Nobara nodded at her work, pride in her growing smile. “Come here, Itadori. It’s your turn.”

“Ooo, make me pretty!” Yuji slid over and stuck his hands out, laughing as she wrinkled her nose at the state of his cuticles. “Seriously though- I think it’s possible! If we work as a team-”

“Pass.” Megumi and Nobara spoke in sync.

“Come on, you two!” He pleaded, eyes puppy-like. “Think about it! Gooms- how many times has Gojo Sensei tickled you since taking you in all those years ago?”

“All the time. Relentlessly.”

“Right! Isn’t it time for payback?” He turned to Nobara next. “'Bara- don’t you love chaos? Don’t you ever wonder what Gojo-sensei looks like when tickled?”

“Hmm..that is tempting.” She mused, finishing up her work on Yuji’s fingers. “Screw it- I’m in!”

“Seriously?” Megumi asked while Yuji whooped.

“Yeah! I’ve made the impossible happen before.” She grinned, confidence radiating off her like waves. “I can do it again!”

“He’ll kill us.”

“Us?” 

“...Fine, I’m in.” Megumi resigned, earning a round of cheers. He hid his smile in his soda can. “So how exactly are we doing this?”

“I have a plan.” Yuji gestured them over. “But it’s pretty bold.”

~~~

Gojo wasn’t a simple man. He had a knack for catching onto mischief- especially when it came to his three students.

“Hey, Gojo?” Megumi was standing before him, cheeks red and hands shaking as they pressed further into his pockets. “Can I…get a hug?”

That didn’t mean his brain always won over his heart.

Gojo gaped, brows to his hairline and jaw dropped. He took off his glasses, cleaning them on his sleeve and putting them back on to make sure his eyes were working. “Megumi? Did-did you just ask me for a hug?”

The younger boy seemed to shrink on himself, looking an adorable combination of both frustrated and mortified. “Yes..?”

“Oh…Oh how I longed for this day.” Gojo cried crocodile tears as he wiped at his cheeks, sniffing a few times. “The day you see me as your dad! The day you let me love you like the son I’ve always wanted!”

“I never said that. If anything, you’re more of a weird uncle.” Megumi frowned harder, glaring at the obnoxiously delighted man. “Nevermind, I take it back. Keep your hug.”

“Wait, Goomy!” Gojo appeared before him, arms out and eyes twinking. “You can’t just go up to someone offering a hug and not follow through!”

“I didn’t offer-”

“Come here.” He did a little hop forward, brows bouncing as he gestured Megumi into his embrace. “Where my hug at?”

“Don’t say that- now you really sound like a weird uncle.” Megumi crossed the distance, wrapping his arms around Gojo and feeling the other man startle. “There.”

After a moment, Gojo’s arms down to embrace him, his cheek against Megumi’s crown and his squeeze a level of comfort the younger man wasn’t expecting. He felt bad for what was to come. “Sorry, Gojo.”

“I know. I forgive you.” Gojo didn’t sound mad, nor did he release his embrace. He simply held on as Nobara and Yuji charged them. “It was worth the hug though.”

Seconds later, they hit the ground hard.

~~~

“Gehehahhahahah! Yohoohu threehehehe! Cohoohhome on, spahahhare your tehahahhcher!” Gojo cried out, three sets of hands going to work to break him down. To his amusment- it seemed they picked up on his own tickle techniques. “I’ll gihihiihive yohhohohu ehahhehextra crehheehdit!”

“For what? You don’t even assign homework!” Yuji pointed out, pinning both of Gojo’s wrists above his head while his companions went to work. “Wait- don’t actually assign homework now, Gojo-sensei!”

“You blockhead! Now he’s definitely gonna give us homework!” Nobara gave him a look from her spot by his legs, one hand holding down Gojo’s kicking leg while the other skittered along the back of his knee. “Keep tickling him until he takes it back!”

“Yeah!”

“Whahahait, wahahahit-ahahahahhahah!” Gojo arched with a cackle, not bothering with resisting. Even if he wanted to, he doubt he could with Megumi poking along the back of his ribs. He just had to go for the worst spots. “I hahahhahte hohohohmewohohohork! Whohohoh the hehehehell asiiihihihsgn’s hihihihis stuhuhudent’s hhoiohohmework?”

“Way to set an example as a teacher.” Megumi tsked him, stretching his hands further to really get his lower back set. The action alone was enough to have him dying. “So shameful.”

“Dohohohn’t you stahhahart on mehehee-ehehheheheehehehhe, nhoohoho cohohome ohohohon!” Gojo weakly tugged on his arms when Yuji dared to tickle an armpit. “Fihihihihne, fhihihihihne, no hohohohmewhohohoohrk! Nohohohoo hhoohohohmewohohohork!”

“Yay!” Nobara and Yuji cheered, briefly stopping their ticklish antics to highfive overhead. “Wait- why were we talking about homework again?” Yuji suddenly asked, making all three pause.

Unfortunately for them, that was the moment Gojo chose to counter.

“No homework, but here comes your extra lessons!” He moved like lightning, gathering all three of them up in seconds before bringing them to the ground, tickling like crazy. Squeals and shrieks and swears filled the area as he rapidly clawed at ribs and bellies and necks. “This will teach you to tickle your dear ol’ teacher!”

“Aheahhaha! Soohoho yohohohou’re finahahahahlly admihihihiting your ohohohld?” Yuji cried out, shrieking when Gojo doubled his efforts. “I tahhahake it bahahahck, I tahhahke it bnahahahck!”

“Ehehehehhhehehe! Thihihis wahahsn’t eehehehven my ihihiheheheha!” Nobara cried out with a high pitched cackle, scrunching up as her neck was pinched at. “It wahhahhs Yuhuhuhuhuhji’s!”

“Ihihihit was ahhahahall hihihihim! Gehehhet Ihihihihitahahhadori!” Megumi cried, pushing at the hand against his stomach. “Stahhahahap!”

“Call me old and then demand me to stop? You three are rather cheeky!” Gojo chided with mock disappointment, unable to fight off his smile. “Tell me I’m a great teacher and I’ll do it. Come on- sing me your praises.”

“Yohohohu’re grhehahahahaht! Yoohohohu’re ghreahhahahhahhat!” The three of them chorused in various tones of mirth, making Gojo laugh with them. After getting one last good tickle, he finally relented.

“Okay- lesson’s over.” He stood back with hands on his hips, laughing at the sight of his students piling up on one another in giggles. “You three are adorable..say, why are you all wearing nail polish?” He blinked at their sparkly fingers, only just now registering the look. 

Megumi seemed to flush redder as he struggled to hide his hands. Nobara meanwhile sat up and gleefully stuck out her fingers to show off her work. “Do you love them? They’re holo!”

 “Wow, would you look at that? I wish I knew you were doing manicures; I’d have you do mine.”

“I can do yours!” Nobara offered, Yuji joining in gleefully at the idea.

“Yeah! Gojo-sensei, match with us! Nobara even did Goom’s toes!”

“Don’t tell him that- get off me!” Megumi fumed, struggling to shove his friend off who dived for his feet. Gojo cackled, clapping his hands as he took in the sight of his beloved students.

“Sounds good. Let me know when your next nail appointment opens up. I’ll gladly join in.”

~~~

Nanami blinked, brow furrowed. He didn’t know what it was about Gojo, but the longer he looked, the more he felt something was…different.

When the blonde caught his eye, he flashed his fingers, making the rainbow against his fingernails dance. “My students.”

“That’s nice.” Nanami nodded, turning back to look out at the horizon.

A brief pause. “Wanna see my toenails?”

“Keep your shoes on, Gojo.”

Thanks for reading!

[thevoidstaredback]

Danny found himself in the Batcave way before the Bats were due to return home. Alfred was on comms at the computer, so Danny waved to him before taking a seat on the head of the dinosaur. He was still so lost in thought.

His chat with Lady Gotham had been…uninformative. She’d had a lot to say, and he knew that he probably needed to hear every word of it, but none of it had brought him closer to solving the Coma Case. It hadn’t even told him if the portal was related!

He heaved a heavy sigh. “One thing at a time, Danny. Gotta call Connie.”

But what to tell him? That the Justice League Dark are going to have to infiltrate the main base for the League of Assassins because any of the heroes or their kids going would mean war on Gotham? Yeah, that’ll go over well.

He called the House.

“You’ve reached Batman.”

“Hey, Z.”

“Phantom! Why’re you calling the House?”

“Because what I’m about to say next may very well upset everyone and I very much do not want a call back about this tonight.”

“So be here in person?”

“That’s an even worse idea.”

She sighed, probably pinching the bridge of her nose. Had she been reading? Did he interrupt a meeting?

“Sorry,” he said quietly.

“What about?” Her voice was soft, but still stressed.

“For upsetting you… For interrupting whatever you were doing.”

“I wasn’t- It’s okay, Phantom, you didn’t interrupt anything. You have news?”

“Yeah.”

“Let me get the others in one place. You good to hold for a minute?”

“Yeah.”

“‘Kay, it’ll only be a minute.”

“Got it.”

There was a click on the line as it fell silent.

Danny sighed again.

There was another click and Zatanna began to speak again. “Alright, everyone’s here. Whatchu got for us, Phantom?”

He swallowed, forcing the words out before he chickened out and hung up on his team. “Battison and his children have spoken in council; In order to investigate the likely involvement with the League of Assassins, the Justice League Dark has to go alone.” He inhaled to try and calm his nerves. “Anyone of the JL heroes or their kids going in could risk war in Gotham and no one wants to see that happen.”

“Wouldn’t us going in be risking war?” Raven asked.

Danny shrugged. “Yeah, but a lot less so.”

There was a sigh that most definitely came from Constantine on the other end.

“We’ll give everyone a proper update once I’m back at the House, but I figured I should give y’all a bit to process the possibility.”

Deadman snorted. “How nice. Why can’t all of our missions give us time to process information?”

“Because Phantom’s not actively trying to kill any of us.” Zatanna answered, probably trying to slap him. “When’ll you be back?”

“Tomorrow? Yeah. Some time tomorrow.”

“Got it. We’ll order pizza.”

“Yay!”

The line went dead.

They didn’t like goodbyes, only saying as such before a high-risk mission. Abrupt hang-ups were better, though not during a crisis.

Danny stared up at the ceiling of the Cave from where he now laid on the T-Rex’s head. He still wanted to know where Batty Man got this thing. And the penny. Why’re they here? How are they here?

Eventually, Alfred left the comms and went upstairs, announcing his leave before going up to the Manor. Probably to make a midnight snack for the Batfam.

Soon thereafter, the group all came back to the Cave. First, Kate, who’s Batwoman; Then, Spoiler, Black Bat, and Red Robin; Next was Red Hood, who’s Jason, and Nightwing, then Batman and Robin. Duke was asleep, being the only day shift, and Barbra was elsewhere in the city.

Kate didn’t stay, changing before going up to the Manor to get her car. She was going to pick up Barbra from wherever she was and take her home. Steph and Cassandra were quick to also go upstairs, both very tired. Steph was leaning on Cassandra the whole way. Nightwing had dragged Red Hood into the infirmary before they could even get their masks off, so that was fun to listen to. Bruce sent Damian up to the Manor the moment he’d finished changing before sitting at the Bat Computer and starting to work on something. Timothy had taken his mask off, but hadn’t moved from his bike.

Nearly ten minutes after Dick and Jason had changed and gone upstairs to bed, Danny sighed and sat up. He wasn’t going to get anything done by sitting on his ass and counting bats. He resigned himself to talking to Bruce for a while longer. Not like it was a bad thing! Just that he would very much be asleep right now, but knows he won’t be able to sleep anywhere that isn’t the House or his Lair.

Timothy had moved from his bike, but hadn’t gone to change. Instead, he stood at the base of the T-Rex, staring at it in deep thought. Finally, he climbed to the top and sat next to Danny, about a foot of space between them.

Danny repressed a sigh.

“I looked into you,” Timothy said after a moment, “figured out who you were. Who you are.”

“I’m not anybody right now.”

“‘Course you are. You’re exactly who you were.”

“I can’t be who I was because I’m who I am now.”

“So you admit that you’re somebody?”

“It’s very well known, at least among the heroes, that I’m the Ghost King. That counts as being somebody.”

“True.”

“Is there a point to this discussion?”

A beat. “There was an accident when you were in middle school. The portal that your parents built, it’s what killed you, right?”

Another beat. Then another. “You need to learn a lesson in tact from Dick.” Inhale. Exhale. “Yeah, it was.”

“I’m sorry.”

“My first instinct is to say ‘It’s okay’, but we both know that’s a lie.” He didn’t turn to look at Timothy. “The dead don’t talk about their deaths even to each other. The living asking them about it isn’t something that happens. Whenever it’s brought up, the memories come flooding back. Most Realms Beings who have lived are only Realms Beings because of the way they died. Painfully, traumatically. Alone. Not only do we have to remember everything about how we died when it’s brought up, but we feel it, too. When I say it all comes back, I mean it; It all comes back and it hurts just the same as it did the first time.”

Timothy breathed in. Then, he let it go with a whispered, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

Danny shook his head. “You didn’t, but that’s not a good excuse. I’m not going to forgive you for the slight because that’s not how this goes. Assuring that you're forgiven will only affirm that you can get away with the behavior in the future.”

Timothy nodded, his eyes on the dinosaur head they were sitting on.

Danny was suddenly very aware that the typing at the computer had stopped, though Bruce hadn’t yet left. He was listening.

“Jason and Damian. They both died, yeah?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Have they ever been comfortable talking about how it happened? Have they ever been the ones to bring it up?”

Timothy shook his head. “No.”

“That should’ve been your first clue.”

Danny let the cold rings of light wash over him again. It’s always easier to use his powers as Phantom instead of Danny, though using them as Danny was not nearly as hard as it used to be.

Phantom phased through the head of the dinosaur, finding his way to the memorial that had been put up for Jason, if the named notes were anything to go by. Gently, he placed his hand on the glass and whispered, “You have suffered a great many hardships in both your life and relife. Your rest was disturbed, though I have no doubts that you stand where you are needed. Moriste demasiado joven, niño. Tu familia aún llora, aunque caminas entre ellos. Se te protegerá como tú proteges, se te ayudará como tú ayudas y se te llorará como tú lloras. Tu fuerza nunca te fallará y tu corazón tendrá el peso de una pluma. Descansa ahora, y no sientas más ira cuando despiertes..*”

The Cave fell silent again, not even the bats shuffling above pierced the heavy atmosphere.

“What was that?” Bruce’s voice tentatively broke through the air.

“It is the duty of a psychopomp to guide souls to their chosen afterlife. That was a blessing for Jason, a hope that he will not need my services for a while to come. It was also an apology for not reaching him the first time.”

“It was in Spanish, right?” Timothy asked, “Why couldn’t I understand it?”

“Because it wasn’t meant for your ears.” His feet landed soundlessly on the ground. “Am I okay to stay the night here? The others aren’t expecting me until sometime tomorrow anyway.”

A ghost - ha - of a smile crossed Bruce’s face. “Of course. Will you need a room?”

Phantom shook his head lightly. “Nah, you have a library?”

“Naturally,” the man said, “C’mon, I’ll walk you there.”

“Awesome.”

Part 21 Part 23

Translation 1 - Spanish - "You died too young, child. Your family still weeps, though you walk among them. You will be protected as you protect, helped as you help, and mourned as you mourn. Your strength will never fail you and your heart will have the weight of a feather. Rest now, and feel no more anger when you awaken."

[joudama]

That’s why it feels so hollow and unfair when the person from the city you didn’t save gets so mad at you, especially with how Lucanis just won’t forgive you (and let’s not even talk about how so many of the women in Veilguard are super forgiving and coddling - even Harding makes excuses for Solas - but only the man stays mad and won’t forgive you. That is a whole other can of worms I’m not opening even for Assan), when you literally split the team and the only difference is where you personally went.

The only way it makes sense is if the game is saying every one of this team of supposed experts is actually incompetent unless you are personally there directing them. (Which, honestly, given the absolute state of the AI and how companions on their own will do a spitball’s worth of damage or wander around aimlessly, maybe that is what they’re trying to say.)

I know they were trying to do a “choices have consequences” type thing, but it shouldn’t result in frustration/irritation. I’ve never been just irritated at a character being mad at and snippy with me for a choice like I was with Veilguard, and it’s because it fundamentally feels unfair and like it doesn’t make sense on a basic level. It doesn’t make sense to be so mad at Rook because the game hasn’t explained why Rook specifically is so important and needs to be there. It doesn’t make sense because the exact same number of people from the team went to both cities. It doesn’t make sense for Neve or Lucanis to only blame you and no one else, especially Lucanis not holding it against Neve if you’re a Shadow Dragon Rook and you basically did the same thing Neve did. It doesn’t make sense for the dragon to have flown off from one city and not the other just because Rook was there - even assuming the dragon didn’t leave at the same time, because thanks to the eluvians, you can get to the other city almost immediately, and there’s no dragon there anymore, so it seems like Ghilan’nain called them both off at the same time.

And as for the dagger excuse some folks came up with, well, it would have made more sense, if Ghilan’nain wanted that dagger and knew you had it, to have called the OTHER dragon to where you are and the city you went to ends up the one that gets fucked up because now two dragons are attacking it. Can you imagine how much better that would have played out, story wise? Instead of the person being mad at you because you didn’t help, they AND you are guilty because you’re the direct cause of their city being destroyed? Then them also lashing out at you makes more sense, because it really is directly because of you, even if you didn’t know it, mixed with their own feelings of guilt and grief needing an outlet and target. And imagine THAT being part of the prison of regret thing - you literally have the destruction of a city on your conscious in a way you don’t in the current version.

Oh, but there I go, wanting actual nuance and conflict, and can’t have that.

A big reason why the Minrathos vs Treviso "choice" feels so weird to me is because I sent 3 people to Minrathos and 3 people to Treviso. So really I didn't make a choice at all except to choose where Rook specifically should go. Why is Rook singled out as the reason the fight in one city went better than in the other, and not one of the other companions?

And that got me thinking.

Why are half the companions always just sitting around doing nothing anyway? (in-universe i mean. I know the reason is gameplay.)

In the Minrathos vs the Treviso choice, we have 2 teams working at the same time in different locations, so it is possible.

Admittedly, none of these kinds of game ever give a reason a team can only have 3-4 people in it, so we take this as a given. But like. In the previous Dragon Age games it didn't feel weird that only the PC can do these quests, and the other companions just tag along.

In Origins, the PC is the only Grey Warden willing to lead a team.

In DA2, they aren't even saving the world! Hawke is just doing that stuff as a hobby and asking their friends for help. And the friends don't sit around doing nothing when they aren't with Hawke, they have their own lives!

In Inquisition, the Inquisitor is the only one who can seal the breaches, and they even put in a gameplay mechanic where certain tasks are delegated via the War Table. (Though, as I did complain about at the time, some more tasks could have been delegated. Looking at you, collect 10 elfroot)

But in DAtV? Why the hell aren't we dividing up all that work, all those quests? The companions in the Lighthouse have fuckall to do except cook and read! They could be out there!

Now, I'm not saying they SHOULD be out there, that would be ridiculous, gameplay-wise. But uhhh I WOULD appreciate it if the writing gave me a reason why they aren't. What makes Rook so special anyway??