#anyway this is not the time and place to be fucking dying over yet here my ass is

[tarraxahum-ish]

one would think I'd be glad to be potentially offered my old job back in the midst of a crisis and having absolutely no job perspectives

but I've been crying (I'd say full on whailing) and trying very hard not to throw up for 6,5 hours now

and I'd very much like my fucking body/psyche/nerves/whoever the fuck is doing this TO STOP

[tgcg]

the master baiter

TG: dont be mad

TG: ok thats like asking water not to be wet but

CG: WATER ISN'T FUCKING WET GOD DAMMIT.

TG: look whatever remember when you said you would die for me

TG: is that karkat in the room with us right now

======

CG: I'M DYING "FOR YOU" EVERY SINGLE TIME YOU PEEL OPEN THOSE SHIT-EATING LIPS YOU KEEP PULLED TAUT OVER YOUR DRONING IGNORANCE SHAFT.

TG: heheheh

======

CG: YOUR WORDSLUDGE SPEARS EVERY PARTICLE OF MY BODY WITH PINPOINT STRIDERIAN IDIOCY.

TG: oh shit here we go

CG: A VERBAL BARRAGE THAT PULVERIZES MY FLESH INTO A FINE RED MIST, KILLING ME INSTANTLY. WIPING ME THE FUCK OUT, TO SUCH AN INCREDIBLE DEGREE THAT PALEONTOLOGISTS CAN'T FULLY DISCERN IF A "KARKAT" FUCKING EXISTED IN THE FIRST PLACE.

CG: THEY'D BE SCRATCHING THEIR NUGBONES OVER IT FOR FUCKING SWEEPS, IF NOT FOR THE SHOCKING REALIZATION MERE MINUTES INTO THEIR DEBATES THAT NOBODY ACTUALLY GAVE A SHIT.

======

CG: AND YET THE TEMPORAL DEVICE STILL SWAYS TO AND FRO IN CONSTERNATION. VEXED BY THE COMPLETE MENTAL VACANCY PUT BEFORE IT BY MY HUMBLE SACRIFICE, BOUND BY ITS COSMIC ROLE, BEGRUDGED BY MY UNSOLICITED DEATH CLOCKING IT INTO OVERTIME. IT HAS BETTER SHIT TO DO, GOD DAMMIT! IT HAS A LUSUS AND A HIVE TO GET BACK TO!

CG: "WHAT IS THIS. WHO LET THIS ASSHOLE IN HERE," IT SAYS. THEY AREN'T EVEN QUESTIONS, JUST ORBITAL SIGHS OF AN UNCARING UNIVERSE. A REALITY NOW KEENLY AWARE OF ITS OWN LAUGH TRACK.

CG: AND ITS PENDULUM TEETERS, TENTATIVE IN ITS OWN DISBELIEF AND PROFOUND APATHY.

TG: damn

======

CG: "THIS SCUMBAG ISN'T EVEN GODTIER YET," IT POINTS OUT. THE AUDIENCE FLIPS THEIR COLLECTIVE SHIT, AGHAST AT THIS REVELATION.

TG: hahaha

CG: IT WELLS UP SUCH A THRUM OF FUCKING ENNUI THAT THE TIMEPIECE FLIPS OFF-KILTER, LANDING SQUARELY IN THE "DUMBASS" ZONE WITH A "FUCK IT" LOUD ENOUGH TO REVERBERATE THROUGHOUT PARADOX SPACE.

======

CG: IT THEN ELECTS TO KICK MY PATHETIC FUCKING HALF-CORPSE BACK INTO THE LIVING PLANE AND FORCE ME, VENGEFULLY FROM THE AUDACITY OF MY OWN IDIOCY, TO REPEAT THIS CYCLE AD NAUSEAM

CG: UNTIL EXISTENCE ITSELF FINALLY CROAKS UNDER THE COMBINED WEIGHT OF OUR COLOSSAL STUPIDITY.

CG: BECAUSE WHO THE FUCK WOULD I BE IF I EVER GOT TO HAVE A BREAK?

======

TG: yep there he is thats him offincer

TG: the man after my own heart

TG: thats a karkat brand "soft yes" if i ever heard one and i know my karkatisms dude im a goddamn graduate in karkatology

TG: i got my degree in this shit

TG: im rocking up to our convos with the dumbass black square hat thing cocked 45 degrees

TG: literally incapable of snapping it back kinda by design of the stupid thing but damn if im not doing it anyways im emanating the snappitudes

TG: im rocking my intelligence right now

TG: also water is absolutely wet dude its like the wettest thing on the planet

CG: I'M NOT REPEATING MYSELF AGAIN

TG: yeah you are

CG: FUCK. I AM.

======

CG: I SAID THE LAST THREE TIMES IT'S A CONDITIONAL TERM--

TG: and im saying its common sense like being wet isnt conditional when youre the perpetual thing of wettening

CG: NO

TG: and brother it is THE wet

TG: like following your conditional argument

TG: if water isnt wet then the other water molecules are constantly making each other fuckin wet so its a moot point

TG: great philosophical debate

TG: which came first the water or the wet?

CG: DAVE

TG: think about it all those particles are wetting each other up all the time and shit

TG: its a fucked up display

CG: ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

======

TG: pretty much a perpetual orgy of the elements

CG: DUDE.

TG: that sounds kinda sick actually if you dont think about what it means

TG: h2orgy

CG: HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO VETO THIS STUPID DISCUSSION--

TG: tell me im wrong dude

CG: I'M UNIVERSE-APPOINTED TO HOVER AROUND YOU POINTING OUT EVERY DUMBASS TAKE YOU HAVE FOR THE REST OF TIME.

TG: thats so beautiful to me

TG: i could cry

[unsolvedjarin]

COMPLICATED — prologue

pairing: (fernando alonso x driver!reader) (grid x platonic!reader) — mostly older!grid

summary: you and fernando were known to be the biggest rivals on and off track back in 2012. that rivalry even crossed the line to pure hatred many years ago. but how did that hatred turn you two into the loving iconic couple of f1 you are today?

note: i’ve been dying to write this for AGES. it’s the fic that’s the reason i made this blog. keep in mind however this is just the prologue, so i’m simply setting up the story for where i want it to go. after this mostly social media chapter it gets plot heavy. anyways i hope you enjoy this!!!

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liked by danielricciardo, lewishamilton, and 528,293 others

tagged: fernandoalo_oficial, aussiegrit, jensonbutton, sebastianvettel, lewishamilton

yourusername beach day with my boys! had so much fun pretending to know what i’m doing while surfing (do NOT trust mark when he says he’ll teach you how to surf. he’s horrible.)

view comments

aussiegrit you falling off the board 272872 times was of your own accord, don’t blame the teacher!

jensonbutton mate you fell off your OWN board 272872 times, i think when it gets to that it’s the teacher’s fault

yourusername get his ass again for me jense

fernandoalo_oficial looking great amor! 🥰

yourusername thanks to my amazing photographer 🫶

jensonbutton what about the pictures i took?

yourusername they were definitely pictures!

fernandoalo_oficial posted a new story

—2012

This was not Fernando Alonso’s year. Losing the World Championship by 3 points was not good on his ego nor on his morale, yet here he was.

Everyone was celebrating Sebastian now for having won his 3rd World Championship– but Fernando was angry. Not at Sebastian, but at you. 

You who had gotten first place. 

You who was third in the Drivers Championship and had no chance to pass Fernando on the standings, yet still overtook him during the last two laps. You couldn’t even let him win.

“Good race Nando,” he heard a voice in front of him say. He paid no attention to it.

Getting no reply from him, you scoff and put down your water bottle. “I know you’re mad at me for getting first, but at least have some sportsmanship.”

That gets him to look up and take a proper look at you, post race sweat and your race suit dangling at your hips. He thinks you glow look terrible in this light. Because he was sat on some stairs, you were standing over him, hands on hips with a slightly smug look on your face. 

“Don’t be a sore loser. It’s unbecoming.”

“I could have won the championship. I was three points away— three, and you could not even let me have that?” He gestures wildly. “I know you dislike me, but stealing my championship is far and beyond, L/N.”

He stands up, purposely hitting your shoulder as he walks past you. 

Oh the bastard. He wanted to throw out accusations? Fine. 

“Oh don’t be such a hypocrite. I stole your championship? What good would that even do me? I’m third in the standings, there was no way I was going to catch up to you,” you retort. Fernando was still facing away from you, but frozen on the spot. You knew he was listening. “I went faster because my contract with Mercedes expires this year. I’m losing my fucking seat, I need to prove to other teams I’m worth it. It’s bad enough you’re constantly fucking badmouthing my character to the press, and now you question my integrity as a driver? Honestly, Alonso, grow the fuck up. Not everything is about you.”

A silence befalls the room. Fernando doesn’t speak or do anything, and the seconds waiting for a response feels like minutes. He’s facing you at this point, speechless in his Ferrari race suit that looks fucking great on him. Too bad he’s a shitty person.

You sigh, exhausted. “Nothing?” 

He shakes his head and looks down. Of course. He’s got nothing to say. Resigning, this time you’re the one to walk past him and towards the door behind him. He tries to look at everything else in the room that wasn’t you, the walls, the stairs, the tables, but that wasn’t enough to avoid your exasperated look that he could see through his peripheral vision.

He should’ve done something, anything. Stop you from walking away, tell you he’s sorry, just something. But he didn’t do anything. That was his first mistake.

One of many.

—PRESENT

MAHK WEBBAH

once again asking if we can change the group name

JENSE

it’s correct though? But while we’re on the topic of the groupchat can we change the photo

YOURNAME

no

its beautiful whats wrong with you

JENSE

okay then we’re not changing the group name

MAHK WEBBAH has left world champs + mark

YOURNAME

give him a few minutes he’s having a temper tantrum because skysports labelled his name as “Sebastian Vettel’s former teammate”

SEBBY

IJBOL

NANDO

??????

JENSE

??????????

YOURNAME

where the fuck did you learn that

AUTHORS NOTE: i know some of these are ooc but i had too much fun making the fake tweets 😵‍💫 this is quite a plot heavy fic from here on out, so put on your reading glasses!

[screeching-bunny]

hi, can you be part two of yandere concubine harem

Yandere! Concubine Harem pt.2

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’

Pt.1

God fucking damnit it happened again. Currently, you were standing in front of your father as he was lecturing you. The reason for this scolding? Well, it was due to the fact that yet another one of your concubines had passed away. You wanted nothing more than to just go to bed and take a fat nap right now. Like how was this even remotely your fault? Everyone knows that once someone joins your harem there’s like a seventy percent chance of them dying. Yet they still do it! Why were you being blamed for their stupidity?

“I can’t fucking believe you!!! How could you let another one of your concubines die!?!? How on Earth are we supposed to explain this to the family!?!?”

“I honestly don’t understand why you're putting so much of the blame on me. Everyone literally knows the dangers of entering this place. This is the twelfth concubine to die. Can anyone really be surprised? Most people already know the fatalities, yet they still send their children here in hopes of being married to me. If they're shocked, that's on them.”

“What– I honestly can’t deal with you right now. Just go away. I can already feel my blood pressure rise…”

Man what a drag. You’re gonna have to start planning another funeral again. What did she even die from anyways? Probably just by some poison, that seems to be what’s popular nowadays. You started to make your way towards your bedroom so that you could finally relax. When you were by your window outside you noticed that a figure was already in your room. Any normal person would see this and start freaking out but you had a suspicion that you knew who this was. Taking a closer look, your suspicions were deemed correct when you got a clear view of one of your male concubines there. Not only that but they were digging through your dirty laundry. Man this is seriously gross and did they just smell your underwear!!! Man he really needed to touch some grass. Yeah… maybe it wasn’t the best idea to bedroom anyways. Whatever, to the hot springs it is!

With that you started to call a maid over and order her to bring all your bath supplies. The hot springs were in a secluded part of the palace so hopefully no one was around there. With a quick walk you finally reached the area and you patiently waited for the maid to come over and hand you your things.

“Sorry for making you wait, your highness here are all your things. I’ll make sure to tell everyone not to come here so as to not bother you. Enjoy yourself and let me know if you need anything.”

“Thank you, I will.”

Stepping into the waters, you start to feel your body relax as that hot water begins to hit your body. You began to just sink yourself into it. You love how calming and peaceful this place was. This was soon interrupted when you saw the waters begin to ripple with movement. Rolling your eyes a bit you then look up at a figure. Low and behold it was another concubine. This time however, you remembered his name. You think his name was Atlas… probably but you were certain that he was the prince of a southern boarding nation.

“Your highness, what a coincidence running into you like this. Mind if I have the honors of joining you?” he said with a large smile.

Coincidence my ass but nevertheless you gave him a small nod. His face immediately began to light up as he made his way towards your side. He had the eagerness of a puppy and the speed of a cheetah.

“Your highness, let me rub your back for you!”

He began to rub his hands all over your body eager to not leave one spot untouched. You were honestly so dumbfounded by him but just let him do his thing. Something else that you noticed while he was doing all of this was the fact that he was packing! It took you all your willpower to not look down and just stare at it. You couldn’t help but think and ask yourself in your mind, “was it heavy?” Man you really need to get out of here before your mind turns into the gutter. You were seriously turning into one of your perverted concubines. Before you could say anything and make an excuse to leave he beat you to it.

“When we’re finished, let's go to my side of the palace where we can relax with each other.”

Feeling that you could use a change in scenery you agreed and began to get dressed. As the two of you made your way towards his courtyard you couldn’t help but notice how beautiful it was. The place was filled with flowers and many butterflies roamed the area. The both of you sat near a nearby bench and started to make conversation.

“I’m sorry for the lack of entertainment. If I had known that I would be meeting you I would have set something up. I do have some tea that I made this morning and it would be lovely if you could try it!”

With your hum of his approval he quickly made his way inside to go and fetch it. Something that you’ll never understand about your concubines is their constant need for approval from you. You could not imagine why one would be so desperate for praise from someone else. The thought of yourself being like that almost made you laugh. Your thoughts were quickly broken when you heard the sound of someone's footsteps.

“I’m back I hope I didn’t keep you waiting for long! Let me pour the tea for you!”

He swiftly grabbed the teapot and poured it into a teacup for you. Then presented you with some biscuits.

“I made this all for you! They probably don’t taste as good as they did this morning but they're still delicious!”

Taking the sip of the tea you noticed that it had a pleasant sugary taste to it. The cookies were also quite delicious. When you finished your snack the two of you continued to make small talk until you started to feel your vision begin to get blurry. You noticed that your body became hard to move and sluggish. God dammit you knew better than to accept food from anybody. Now look at where it got you!

“My love, it seems like the tea is starting to kick in but don’t worry I’ll make sure to take care of you.” he said with a lovesick expression.

[wlntrsldler]

poisoned mercury | delicate

friend group shenanigans | set after pink skies | series masterlist

song: delicate by taylor swift

“good morning,” you yawned, rubbing your eyes as you exited your room. travis was taking up the entire couch, doubled over in pain. “woah, what happened to you?” 

“food poisoning,” he replied, wincing. he had a blanket draped over him, acting like he was on his deathbed. 

connor walked in with a bowl of chicken soup for his brother, rolling his eyes as he shoved travis’ feet off the couch to have somewhere to sit, “and whose fault is that?” 

clarisse was sitting next to chris on the love seat, shaking her head, “told you not to get a hot dog from the gas station.” 

“rookie mistake, babe,” chris chimed in, “whenever you tell trav not to do something, he does it. it’s in his dna.” 

“connor shares the same dna as him and he’s not like that,” you called out from the kitchen, making yourself a bowl of cereal. the dining hall was already closed for breakfast since you woke up so late, thanks to the boy who was still passed out on your bed.

you couldn’t remember the last time you slept so well. you felt bad for leaving him alone, sleep in your room but your stomach was growling and if you didn't get some food in your system soon, you were bound to catch an attitude.

“that’s because i got the brains between the two of us,” connor joked, scoffing, “i let him borrow some brain cells once in a while.” 

“fuck you guys,” travis complained, sitting up. “i’m dying here and you’re making fun of me?!” 

you walked out into the living room, pulling one of the bar stools to sit closer to the group. your eyes darted to the screen in front of you, internally cheering at the familiar scene. they were watching barbie. the five of you watched in silence, letting out little laughs at the jokes, until the door of your room opened. 

luke walked out, half-asleep, and made his way over to you. he kissed your lips, mumbling, “g’mornin, five star.” 

“mornin’, pretty boy,” you squeezed the arm he wrapped around your waist. he sent you a lazy smile, nuzzling his face in your neck before disappearing into his bedroom. you turned your attention back to the screen, shoving a spoonful of fruit loops in your mouth, “oh, i love this part!” 

when you were the only one who burst out laughing at ken’s “sublime!” you turned to look at your friends, wondering why none of them were laughing. they were staring at you with wide-eyes, jaws ajar. their eyes were bright, lips breaking out into teasing smiles. oh. oh. 

“castellan get your ass in here, now!” 

luke walked out of his room with his eyebrows furrowed, confused as to why chris was screaming his name like bloody fucking murder at 12 pm on a sunday. surely, he hadn’t done anything wrong yet– he just woke up! he put his glasses on, finally able to see the looks on everyone’s faces, including your red cheeks and sheepish smile. 

luke didn’t even realize what he did until that moment. it just felt natural for him to greet you good morning, like he always did anyway, but it’s just sweeter this time around because he’s allowed to kiss you now, at least he thinks he’s allowed to. he was a little butthurt that he woke up alone on your bed this morning so when he walked out and was only able to make out your silhouette, he didn’t think twice before placing a chaste kiss on your lips. he got a taste of what it was like to kiss you and he couldn’t help himself to do it again.

he thinks now, though, that perhaps he should’ve thought twice because there was no way your friends would let the two of you leave until you explained. luke’s face paled at the sight of his friends. were you mad at him for kissing you in front of people? if his head wasn't spinning with all the negative thoughts he was having, he would see your face and understand that you were happy your friends knew about the two of you.

clarisse clicked on the remote to pause the movie, “soooo… seems like we skipped a few chapters.” 

“more like we finally got to the next chapter,” travis snorted, earning a smack on the back of his head from connor. the older stoll hissed, “don’t act like y’all weren’t tired of their pining.” 

chris rolled his eyes, eyes darting between you and luke. he was trying to fight the smile threatening to show on his features, “so care to enlighten us, guys?”

"luke?"

luke's head snapped to the sound of your voice, pulling him out of his head. you had an arm outstretched, beckoning him over to where you stood. it made luke feel giddy inside as he trotted over to you, finding comfort in standing behind you and placing his chin on top of your head. he swung an arm around you, hoping that you wouldn't see the thumbs-up he sent to the boys.

"yeaaaaahhhh castellan's got the girl!"

"oh my god," you whispered, turning around to bury your head in luke's chest. you were blushing furiously at the cheers from your friends. you think you might've even heard travis complaining about losing a bet to connor. clarisse and chris were babbling about how double dates would be fun, though clar mentioned that luke and chris would end up third and fourth-wheeling the two of you more than anything. "our friends are crazy."

the arm he had wrapped around you pulled you in tighter. you felt the rumbling of his chest, "they are."

"you guys are so fucking cute," clarisse said, a hand over her heart. "y/n, he finally made a move!"

you turned back around to face clarisse and the group, "actually i made the move!"

luke scoffed, "you did not. i kissed you."

"i asked you to come in last night."

"yeah i believe, y/n," connor piped in, shrugging. "luke was not gonna make a move."

clarisse gasped, placing a hand on chris' bicep, "we should compare notes."

your eyes widened, "do not compare notes."

"wait, what do you mean notes?" luke asked quizzically. "was five star talking about me?"

"clarisse i will never forgive you if you tell him anything."

"i'm not gonna tell him directly," she hummed, lacing her fingers with chris', "but if i told my boyfriend who happens to be his best friend and he tells luke, then, technically, i haven't done anything wrong."

"y/n, i assure you, you should not be embarrassed," travis said, snickering. it was luke's turn to panic. "whatever you said to clarisse about lover boy here, i'm sure it can't be any worse than what he's said about you to us over the last two months."

chris cleared his throat, putting on his best luke impression, "five star is so pretty. i don't think i've ever seen anyone so beautiful."

"five star is so funny. i can listen to her talk about anything for hours." this was travis.

"oh, luke where were you today? we haven't seen you all day," connor said in his regular voice before deepening his voice a tad bit to match luke's, "oh, i was hanging out with five star and we accidentally fell asleep by the lake."

"not to mention the dozens of songs he wrote about you," chris teased, "thanks for inspiring the second album, but bro was like alexander hamilton writing those songs."

luke whined, tugging on his hood to cover his face, "guys, stoppp."

"oh my god, y/n, you should see his tweets."

"do not show her my tweets!"

you burst out in laughter, getting up from your seat. you wrapped your arms around luke and he took the opportunity to hide his face in the crook of your neck. you could feel the heat on his cheeks against your skin. you played with the hair on the nape of his neck, "all right, guys, enough."

"can we go back to your room?" luke whispered in your ear, lips grazing the shell of your ear.

"mhm," you couldn't deny him of anything if you tried, "come on, pretty boy."

you couldn't help but laugh and throw up the middle finger to your friends as they called out jokes and kissing noises as you and luke went off. it was funny, really, how they all knew there was something between you and luke before the two of you did. it was nice to know that your friends were supportive, regardless of how annoying they would be now that you and luke were together.

luke collapsed on his side of your bed, unable to wipe the dopey smile on his face. you sat on his lap, leaning over to press kisses on his cheeks, "just so we're clear, i wanna see the tweets. and hear the songs."

"well you can't ask me that while you're sitting on top of me because i'll fold."

you giggled, kissing his lips passionately. his hands gripped your waist as he sat up, getting in a more comfortable position, "that's the point, castellan."

luke pinched your side, chuckling when you squealed, "you're evil."

"uh huh," you mumbled, "you know we're never gonna catch a break with our friends now right?"

"honestly, i haven't caught a break from the boys since i met you," he admitted, "but at least i get to kiss you now, so it's really a win."

you couldn't agree more.

[halbravd]

love in a band aid box // aib boys.

summary: you’re the (unofficial) nurse at the beach but everyone comes to see you when they seek medical care, and maybe it’s not just because you’re a nurse, if you know what i mean.

in other words: the boys have a crush on you and express it their own way.

characters: chishiya shuntaro, niragi suguru, arisu ryohei and aguni morizono.

⪧ chishiya shuntaro,

as a doctor himself, he can’t help but being drawn to you since day one. and the fact that you’re so smart, always right about anything medically-related, has him even more curious and interested. most of the time he’d remain silent, checking whatever you’re doing from afar — he didn’t even tell you he was a doctor in real life, hell, he probably never really talked to you in the first place. he’s just like your own shadow, never too close yet never too far either, amazed by how you treat everyone the same. there’s no such thing as a ‘more important human being’, and you couldn’t care less about ranks within the beach. chishiya admires this side of you ever so dearly, and maybe one day, he’d gather enough courage to thank you for your remarkable work here.

⪧ niragi suguru,

this child right here would always pretend to be ill just to see you. a light scratch on his arm? what if it gets worse after a few days. imaginary headaches? every fucking day. worst of all: he’d lie and tell you hatter forced him to come here to get a quick check up, pretending it’s a waste of his precious time. and when you’re cleaning his wounds or doing whatever has to be done, he can’t help but stare, completely silent. maybe it’s because it’s the first time someone’s willing to help him, maybe it’s because he never felt such warmth before, but he would definitely throw himself off the nearest window if that means he could spend some time alone with you. don’t expect a thank you though, that man is a brat and he’s emotionally constipated anyway.

⪧ ryohei arisu,

arisu is… arisu. always injured, always something going on in his life. at this point, you know everything about him, and he’s like your bestie. he’d just knock at your door (when usagi isn’t carrying him on her fucking back) and you’re like ‘not AGAIN’ because it’s like the fourth time that week. he’s also a huge baby, always whining when you clean his wounds, trying to move his arm or leg away any chance he gets so you won’t ‘hurt him again’ (those are his own words).

⪧ aguni morizono,

aguni could be on the verge of dying, he’d never ask for help. that’s just how stubborn he is — and this is the reason why you decided to visit him every time he’d return from a game. he’d never admit how much he enjoys your visits, always pretending to be fine and hiding his injuries the best he can just not to see that worried look plastered all over your face — aguni loves when you smile, when he makes you laugh. but when you’re standing there with teary eyes, biting the inside of your cheek because the wounds he gets are getting more and more severe, he just feels like he’s dying a little bit more every single time.

[fayes-fics]

hello!! can I please get a drabble that takes place in the 70s with artist boho slut benedict x reader? thank you 🙈

Kinktober: Benedict + Chem / High Sex

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

Paring: Benedict Bridgeton x fem!reader, Modern 1970s AU

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, use of recreational drugs, sexual acts while high/under the influence, 69 position, oral sex (m to f, f to m) blowjob and cunnilingus, facesitting, vaginal fingering, deepthroat.

Author’s note: hi Nonny. Well, this request immediately made me think of boho hippy artist Ben selling his art at a music festival and voila, a whole AU was born for me. Honestly, this universe was so fun I might write more in the future 😁 Anyway, I hope you enjoy! 🧡

You have a cock in your mouth when the drug kicks in. A corkscrew of colour swimming before your eyes has you pausing to make a noise of surprise, not just because of the fantastic suction around your clit.

“Holy shit….” you mumble, pulling up to take a breather.

“It kicked in, huh?” Benedict smirks as you look down between your legs to his handsome face.

“Yeah… fuckkkkk,” you stutter, unmoored.

This wasn't how you envisioned this music festival going, but damn, if you aren't having the time of your life.

Just an hour ago, you arrived as the sun set, still yet to find your friends, when you stumbled upon a stall selling captivating artwork. You felt utterly compelled to purchase a piece, even before you saw the beautiful, square-jawed, blue-eyed, topless man selling it.

Daisy chains looped into his wavy chestnut locks, flared jeans hanging dangerously low over an Adonis belt—a Grecian statue made flesh. By the time he informed you that he was indeed the artist and, after a few drinks, offered you a tab of something to “start your festival right”, you were already his.

And so here you now, in the back of his VW bus, windows concealed by vibrant tie-dyed fabrics, chemicals coursing in your bloodstream as you bring each other pleasure. Sitting naked upon his face, draped over his warm body, his cock in your mouth. A circuit of decadent, lush delight. And now….

Now, every feeling is heightened.

You dive back onto him with something approaching ferocity, savouring his silken but steely cock passing through your lips, each contour sparking synesthesia behind your eyelids. When his tongue ploughs deep into your pussy it ripples up your insides into your belly, settling as a fire behind your ribs. And when he sucks your clit, it’s as if you can trace the signal racing to your brain from those millions of afferent nerve endings.

Strains of music from the distant soundstage seep through the popped skylight above as his long, artistic fingers swirl patterns on the notches of your spine. His sinewy arms wrapped tight around your hips, encouraging you to use his face and tongue as if he were a vessel built purely for your enjoyment.

And fuck if he isn't—he tastes, embodies, and imbues hedonism. His skin is smooth and smells of citrus, earthy bark and charcoal. His cock is perfect, a delight that fills your mouth and makes your bones liquefy at the idea he might fuck you.

You spiral your tongue around his head in a tempo to match the tattoo his drums over your clit, all your concentration pinpointed on these mirrored movements, sinful unhurried sensualism. Luxuriating as if you have hours to spend together, with no destination in mind other than a memorable experience. 

When he buries two fingers inside you, your cry muffled around his cock, you can feel his smirk in the stubble abraiding your labia. Well, if he wants to notch things a little higher….

Mind looping with rainbows, you take a deep breath and sink until his cock is in your throat. The feral sound he makes hot against your clit like another drug you could get addicted to. He groans your praises, a hand straying into your hair to hold your head down, his plush lips snagging your engorged pearl as you hold still, images of colourful dancing bears before your eyes, each bearing his face contorted with ecstasy. Something about him makes you want to be the best he has ever had. Make him not want to leave your side; make him not want to get dressed ever again; just spend eternity entwined in your body.

You pull up, and then after a few deep sucking draws that have him groaning and begging, you sink down again, fighting the need to breathe, captivated by each novel new image your mind supplies. All the while, he tries to match you, lashing your clit, fingers drumming your g spot as the other wraps your ponytail around his fist. When you whimper around him, his sac tightens against your nose.

“Fuck, I'm going to come,” he growls in warning, yet still you stay, knowing what is coming and craving it.

A pulse runs the length of his cock, and then you feel it, a thick salty rope shooting right into your throast that tastes like victory and desire. You suck and swallow all you can as you pull up, needing to breathe, and as he sings your praises, you nuzzle him, licking him clean as if it was the tastiest treat in the world.

“Your turn,” his warning glittering and smokey with promise. 

It's then you experience your first orgasm high on drugs. Your body on fire as he expertly suckles, swirls, and even bites your swollen, soaked flesh, fingers buried deep in your leaking pussy, like he lives only for your nectar and rapture.

“You taste like heaven,” he groans, as you keep kissing his cock while it softens, something for you to wrap your lips around, to muffle your screams as he pushes you towards heights you have never scaled. Hyperaware of everything: sounds, smells, his touch, the sight of him pinned under you, so very eager to please. You reach out and grab his hand, lacing your fingers together tightly just as you tumble over the edge. 

Fireworks, lightning, strobe lights, all multicoloured, going off in your mind as you float high above as if an untethered balloon, at once a million miles away and yet also rooted so deep in your body, feeling everything in every nerve, every cell, every synapse fire. 

He moves behind you as you collapse to one side, breathlessly panting, mind adrift, curling up almost foetal, overloaded by everything. Wrapping his warm body like a protective shell around you, his nose buried in your hair, his arms caging you, his legs bracketing yours.

“That was transcendent. Truly magical,” he murmurs, dazed, and you have to agree.

No taglist as these drabbles are short

[abiiors]

need more rosstent where he uses the nickname "bunny" that unlocked smth in me

ykw... me the fuck too so here we go (this is Quite Horny)

cw: smut so no minors allowed, oral sex, masturbation, bunny as a pet name obv

fingers trail lightly down your jaw, almost a loving caress--soothing and sweet--while you sit between ross' legs, looking up at him expectantly. his pupils are blown out wide, eyes dark and hooded with lust. it makes you swallow harshly, half out of nervousness, half out of anticipation.

"you sure you want this, baby?" he asks. again. and as sweet as it is, you've been dying to taste him like this. ross has gone down on you countless times, tipping you over the edge again and again with his tongue until you can't even think straight. it's time you let go of the less than savoury past experience and give him a try.

"please..." you pout at him, opening your mouth obediently, just like he's taught you to.

open wide. take it slow. breathe.

"and what's your sign if you want me to stop?"

"tap on your thigh twice."

the slightly whiny touch to your voice makes him tsk, grinning. "so impatient..." he starts cocky but shudders, eyes rolling back, the moment your hand wraps around his base.

he's big and thick in your hands--hard, veiny, leaking with precum and the sight has you salivating. tentatively, you let your tongue swirl around his tip and ross hisses. the sound fuels your more, makes you feel braver and take him deeper in your mouth.

"th-that's it," his voice is a choked whisper, almost a moan. "doing so well for me, my sweet little bunny."

ross' hold tightens in your hair, guiding your head gently. it's not forceful, if anything, it's assertive. it's fucking hot how much it turns you on to hear him groan louder with every inch you take in your mouth. heat trickles down your spine and blood rushes in your cheeks.

sweet little bunny. his perfect girl.

drool runs down your chin the deeper you take him until the tip of his cock touches the back of your throat, making you gag lightly.

"breathe," he instructs again, voice raspy, and tries to pull back a little. but a flash of defiance runs through you and you let your nails dig in his thigh, let your teeth gently scrape against his length. his hips jerk, and ross almost thrusts in your mouth.

"is that how you want it, hmm? want that mouth fucked? is that what dumb bunnies think about all day?"

yes, you nod (well, as much as you can anyway), yes! and this time ross thrusts a bit deeper. the stretch makes your lips burn, makes your cunt clench around nothing. pleasure and pain, but you moan again, tasting more of his precum on your tongue. you moan around his cock and watch his jaw go slack with pleasure.

you squirm, getting antsy for just a touch, for some fiction to help with the throbbing between your legs. ross notices you movements, the way your hips almost grind--just like his are--and smirks.

"sweet, perfect little bunny... touch yourself for me, go on." your hand is between your legs before he's even done speaking, fingers buried deep until you can feel your eyes rolling back. "such a perfect mouth."

his hips jerk faster than before, cock almost slamming into your mouth with each thrust. it has you seeing stars--getting to touch yourself while hearing him moan. he's close now, you can tell. shivers of pleasure trail down your spine, making you whine louder around his cock, making you squirm in place, nails from your free hand digging into his thigh.

ross pants. "don't c-cum... you don't get to cum yet. that's my job."

tears of frustration brim on your lash line. don't get to cum yet. even when you are so so desperate. ross, on the other hand, loses all rhythm and fucks your face as hard as you can handle it. your face slams into his pelvis--not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough that it has you gasping, clenching hard around your fingers that are soaked by now.

"fuck-- gonna cum, fuck--" he pulls back just enough, letting you choose to move away if you don't want him cumming in your mouth but you stay still, expectant. you need to taste him, to feel him spilling down your throat.

his body stills completely and you feel his release on your tongue--thick and salty and bitter and so much of it that you struggle to swallow at first. half of it dribbles down your chin along with some spit, making a filthy mess. ross' grip in your hair loosens and his breaths come out ragged.

when you can take a moment to breathe, you look up at him, waiting for him to open his eyes. only then do you swallow, making sure he sees the mess he's made. how much you've enjoyed it... how desperate you are for him.

you move your other hand from between your legs and place it on his thigh, leaving behind a faint trail of slick. ross' wipes away at your chin with his thumb, gathering everything so he can place it in your mouth.

"suck... that's it, good girl. perfect girl."

your legs tremble when he lifts you off the ground and makes you sit on his lap, thigh muscles flexing right under your cunt. just the barest of touch has you moaning and burying your face in his neck.

"good little bunnies deserve a reward," he breathes on your skin and you nod eagerly.

"please... yes."

"let's go then. let's go see what a mess you can make..."

[mynameismckenziemae]

In Case You Didn’t Know

Part 7

(previous part here, next part here)

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x You

Summary: You take Jake back to your favorite place as a teen and make some new memories. The weeks fly by and soon it’s time for Jake to go back to California.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, oral (both receiving), p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), talks of kinks, a hint of breeding kink, cum play, etc.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

“I’m supposed to be the one taking you out,” Jake grumbles as you pull out of your driveway in his truck.

“Quit your whining. You planned the last two.”

“I made you supper last night, that doesn’t count,” Jake argues.

“You made me supper with a broken leg and had flowers delivered. It was sweet,” you reply, shifting gears before placing your hand over his. “Also, this will be our third date. I’m dying here, Jake. I’ve been touching myself every night thinking about what it’s going to be like having you inside me.”

“Jesus Charlie,” he mutters, adjusting himself in his shorts.

“Maybe I’ll let you watch me some time, would you like that?” You ask, your hand moving to his thigh.

“Fuck, yesssss,” he groans when you cup his hard-on through his shorts.

“Me too, I want to watch you too. God Jake, there’s so much I want to do with you.”

“Like what?” He asks, lifting his hips to get more friction from your hand.

“Tease you until you beg for release, ride you until you’re crying from being overstimulated, tie you up and have my way with you, see if I can make you cum just from playing with your cute butt,” you bite your lip, face heating from arousal and a little embarrassment.

“Holy shit,” he chokes, hand stopping yours. “Wait, I don’t want to cum in my pants.”

Your hand leaves his groin anyway to downshift as you approach the hidden entrance.

“Raspberry Lake?” Jake smiles.

“Yup, I don’t think kids come down here like they used to like when we were younger,” you reply, turning off the engine.

“That’s a shame, it’s so pretty-mmph!” He’s cut off by the press of your lips to his. Your fingers quickly untie his shorts.

Once he’s free, you pull from his lips to duck your head and swallow him down, moaning when you’re rewarded with a burst of precum.

It only takes a few bobs of your head before he pants out a warning, “Char-I’m gonna cum.”

You’re not sure if he’s just being a gentleman or if he doesn’t get that you like to swallow but you just keep going until he tenses and releases into your mouth with a bitten-off cry.

“You’re gonna kill me, sweetheart,” he chuckles breathlessly as you swallow and tuck him back into his shorts.

You smile, but the embarrassment of what you said earlier creeps in. “Sorry about what I said earlier, i hope I didn’t that’s freak you out.”

“Did you mean it?”

“Kinda? If that’s something you’d be into of course,”’ you flush. “The longest relationship I was in was only 6 months, so I never really got to explore some of the stuff I read about in those smutty books you always tease me about.”

“Damn, I didn’t know you were reading about butt stuff,” he teases but tilts your chin to look you in the eyes. “I want to try all of that and more. Anything your kinky heart desires.”

You laugh, relieved. “You may regret saying that,” you murmur, leaning in for a kiss.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

You unpack the picnic lunch in the shade on an old quilt next to the lake. A breeze keeps it comfortable.

“I was gonna pick up some Boone’s Farm for old times sake but I almost gagged when I picked up the bottle,” you shutter, handing him a beer.

“Ma was so mad at me after that night,” Jake laughs, “Thank goodness Lisa calmed her down.”

“My mom was always the voice of reason. It was 100% my fault yet you almost got grounded.”

“Right? I was always in trouble for stuff I didn’t do.”

You laugh. “Yeah, okay.”

He just smiles. “Man, I miss this,” he sighs, reclining back on his elbows. “Actually, I miss you. When I’d come back to visit when you were in grad school…it didn’t feel right. I still felt homesick. I realized it was you. You feel like home, Charlie.”

Tears spring to your eyes at his words. “You feel like home too. I love you, Jake.”

He sets down his beer and sits up, tears shining in his eyes as well. “I love you too, Charlie. Always have, always will.”

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

The picnic is forgotten as he reaches around the back of your neck to pull you in for a searing kiss.

You climb into his lap without breaking the kiss, carding your fingers through his hair as he grips your hips.

“God, I love everything about you,” he whispers against your neck after he pulls away from your lips. “How your smile brightens up the room,” he nips the sensitive skin behind your ear, making you shiver. “The sweet sound of your voice after a long day at work,” he helps you out of your shirt, leaving you in a lacy pink bra. He swallows before continuing, “The way you put me at ease, how comfortable you make everyone feel…I just love you. I’m so glad I can finally say it,” he laughs, looking up at you between your breasts.

“Me too, Jake. Me too.”

You can feel his frustration at how things are awkward yet with his leg, but you just keep kissing him, assuring him it’s okay. Eventually, he gets you under him and he rests his weight on his knees as he kisses down your throat, stopping at your breasts to help you out of your bra.

“These are so perfect,” Jake murmurs before putting his mouth (and hands) to use. Your back arches as he flicks his tongue over the hardened bud of your nipple, using his fingers to tease the other. Your already wet underwear is now soaked by the way he’s playing with your body.

He finally continues his journey south, and you lift your hips to help him ease your shorts down.

“Oh these are pretty,” he murmurs before placing a wet kiss on your clit through the lace of your panties.

“Mmm, I like lingerie. I have a decent collection,” you sigh, helping him pull them down.

“I want to see them all. You could do a little fashion show when you have me tied up,” he suggests before he leans in to lick a stripe through your arousal.

“You’d like that? Ohhhh yes, right there,” you pant as he flicks over your clit. “I could show you how I touch myself too while I’m at it. You couldn’t do a thing about it, just have to sit there and watch.”

“Mmmm,” he hums, nodding enthusiastically against you, leaving you unable to speak as he gets to work.

He brings you to orgasm quickly, your cries echoing off the still water. He shakes his head when your hands in his hair try to pull him up, and gently pulls a second, the third orgasm before he finally relents.

You moan when you taste yourself on his tongue after he climbs over you for a kiss. You wrap your legs around his waist and use your momentum to flip him over onto his back, knowing that his leg unfortunately won’t allow missionary.

“Fuck. Condom?” He pants as you pull his shorts down.

“I’ve never done it without a condom, I’m on birth control to help regulate my cycle and was negative at that time. I haven’t been with anyone since then either. I’m okay without if you are?” You ask as you rub the head of his cock through your wetness.

“I get checked before every deployment and I haven’t been with anyone in about 2 years. I always used a condom too. I want my first time without to be with you,” he replies, brushing your hair off your forehead.

“Me too,” you say as you line him up to your entrance.

“Holy fuck, you’re so tight…and warm…and wet, fuckkkk. I’m never gonna last,” he shutters as you slowly sink down onto him.

“You’re so big,” you gasp, forgetting to breathe as your hips finally meet.

His fingers grip your hips in a bruising hold, fighting the urge to cum as you adjust to his size.

When he feels a little more under control, his fingers find your clit and he makes slow, gentle circles: only speeding up when you begin to ride him.

Your lips find him in a biting kiss and he sighs into your mouth as you chase your release.

He gets there first, breaking your kiss to bite the sensitive skin where your neck meets your shoulder as he cums deep inside you with a groan. The little bite of pain and the feeling of his warm spend filling you up is enough to push you over. Your head falls back with a soft cry as the waves of pleasure roll through you.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

He’s pressing sweet kisses across your chest while murmuring sweet praises as you come down.

You tilt his chin up and kiss until you feel his cum starting to leak onto the quilt beneath you.

His eyes darken when he watches you shift off of him and more of his seed leaks out, and he reaches to push it back in while you whimper.

“Can’t wait to make you a mama someday,” he murmurs, gaze focused on his hand between your legs.

You shiver at his words and how good his fingers feel.

The sound of tires on the gravel drive breaks the trance. Thankfully it’s a long drive and your clothes are near so you’re decent before the car pulls in and a bunch of teenagers pile out.

“I thought you said no one comes out here anymore?” Jake asks as he tries to help you fold up the soiled quilt.

“They don’t! I come out here a few times a month and this is the first time I’ve seen anyone in almost a year,” you laugh.

“When we get home, I’m locking the door, closing the curtains, silencing our phones, and going to make love to you the rest of the afternoon with no interruptions,” he promises, backing you up against the tailgate, out of sight from the teens playing in the water.

“Let’s go then,” you smile, kissing his cheek.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

Jake does just that; and nearly every day after for the next 8 weeks

Your sex life before had been decent; you got off a few times with the guys you’d been with and it was nice to take the edge off.

But you craved it with Jake. The end of his PT session usually ended in a sweaty mess of limbs and satisfied smiles; if nothing else, Jake was definitely getting his cardio in.

Hayes was acting like the cat who caught the canary when you finally admitted it when he caught you daydreaming and was relentless with his good-natured teasing.

“Jake’s soft cast is coming off tomorrow, are you taking the day off?” Hayes asks, biting back a grin.

“No…Why would I?”

“Just figured the cast…limits things in the bedroom. Figured you’d want to have some time together before he goes back to California next week,” he shrugs innocently, turning to leave your office.

“Oh fuck off. I’m gonna take tomorrow off now, just for that comment,” you laugh, throwing your pen at his back.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

You did end up taking the day off, Hayes really did have good ideas sometimes.

You and Jake were relaxing in the tub together after a long morning of no longer limited-activities.

“So you leave next Thursday?” You ask, wrapping your soapy fingers in his.

You hadn’t talked about it yet, both of you avoiding the discussion of what the future held for the both of you.

“Yeah,” he hesitates before he asks. “Do you think you could come with me? Help me pack up my apartment?”

“What? Why are you packing up your apartment?” You ask, heart pounding as you turn to look at him.

“I took a position as an instructor at the Naval Air Station in Kingsville,” he smiles. “Just found out I got it this morning. I wanted to tell you but I didn’t want to get your hopes up.”

“Kingsville is 35 minutes from here. You’re moving home?” Tears fill your eyes.

“After I finish a few things up in San Diego, yes. I’m moving home.”

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

A/N: There was a lot in this chapter. Whatcha guys think?

As always, any interaction is appreciated but I love hearing what you think in comments/reblogs.

Tagging:

@mamachasesmayhem

@its-the-pilot

@dizzybee03

@sweetwhispersofchaos

@shanimallina87

@blindedbythelightt

@getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth

@lexixstewart

@phoenix-rising-starbird-one

@mrsrobertfloyd5

@charmedkim

@k-k0129

@bellaireland1981

@hookslove1592

@amiets2

@nero4te

@eli2447

@atarmychick007

@vixenobrian

@86laura11

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@dempy

@angelbabyyy99

@buckysteveloki-me

@djs8891

@mizzzpink

@daggerspare-standingby

@mrsevans90

[bonesofapoet]

heart under the gun

[ simon 'ghost' riley x you ]

author's note : the one where you're stuck in a safehouse and you just fucking pine for each other. language

word count : 703

There was always something magical about the world, once dusk arrived.

Even when it seemed the entire universe had fallen sideways, and your life had been placed on pause - if only temporarily - there remained, under the battered, stained surface of your story, an unmistakable awe that lingered at the fraying edges; a kind of raw beauty impossible to miss.

Even if you weren’t searching for it, if you weren’t mindful of it staring right back at you point blank, so aggressively close to your face - it seeped in through the cracks. Always, lately, when it was the least expected, and, honestly? When it was most unwelcome.

This evening was a stunning example, really.

The sun had begun its fall into the night, dipping down behind wispy clouds and tree branches that reached tall and desperate, if only to feel the last kiss of the sun’s dying rays until dawn. Golden fingers fell through the canopies of their leaves scattered along the property, painting the ground in shadowed filigree patterns across tall, deep green grass.

Those wispy clouds had gone from feather gray and lily white to become beautifully stained with the palette of the sunset. Golds, deep oranges and radiant mauves were shining bright where the colors blended with the deepening violet of the sky above.

And yet, up is not where you were looking this time.

He was illuminated in the glow of stray sunbeams, rocking gently on the porch swing hidden around an alcove on the front porch - a charming detail that set this particular safehouse apart from the rest - in time with the gentle breeze. It ruffled the pages of the book held open in one hand - gloved, always - while the other remained draped across the back, next to him.

It had jarred you, the first few days the two of you had been here, just how peaceful someone could look when removed from the harshness of the field. The contrast of something so simple as quiet. . .it was different here. Everything was. Now, though, you had come to learn that this was just Simon being Simon. He had shed the skin of Ghost, slowly, if not hesitantly, the longer you were holed up far away from any front line.

The mask, however, was not so quickly cast aside.

Regardless, that didn’t stop you from admiring how Simon looked in the sunlight instead of shadows.

“You gonna keep fuckin’ starin’ at me, or can I help y'with something?”

Fuck.

Your recovery was quick, if not a little rushed, when you realized his brown eyes had risen from the pages to narrow at you instead.

“Yeah, Riley, you can fuckin’ help me with something," you snort for good measure. “Take your fuckin’ tea before I burn the shit outta my hand, would ya?”

He sees through it, anyway.

“Give it ‘ere, then,” gloved fingers wiggle in your direction, the arm draped across the swing reaches toward you.

You step to fill the remaining gap, the sun’s tendrils of gold slipping over you as you do. Bright flashes blinded you through the trees as you held a steaming mug out towards Simon. Gloved fingers brushed gently, quickly, over your own.

While you were busy trying not to drop the mug or go blind - permanently, this time - Simon’s eyes hadn’t left you. The descending sun had gifted you with a halo, bright, bold, and oh, so divinely ethereal he had to focus on his breath, had to tighten his grip on the mug, the book, had to feel the solid wood of the weathered bench beneath him to stay grounded because -

Fuckin’ Christ, he couldn’t look away.

Simon Riley had never been a religious man, but seeing you all glowing golden radiance inspired him to fall to his knees and pray.

He didn’t know what the fuck he’d say, didn’t even know if you would answer whatever fell through his lips, but he knows he’s never seen you like this.

Relaxed. Peaceful. Makin’ him tea just how he liked it, for no fuckin’ reason. You’ve done that often enough in the past couple of weeks that he knew it wouldn’t be scalding, wouldn’t be burnt or too strong. None of that extra, frilly shit would be tainting it either.

That’s something he liked about you. How you paid attention to the people you cared about -

Simon freezes. Oh.

[dizzyjelly]

I Like You, You Idiot

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: you and your best friend Dina go out on patrol where she saves you from dying and you feel you’re not enough. Instead of revealing your insecurities to her, you keep quiet. Later that night she takes you to a party and make a drunken confession which has her freaking out the morning after.

Cw: drinking, fighting, shooting, guns, vomiting, very subtle sexual themes

A/n: so sorry guys this was supposed to be out yesterday but I got super busy! Anyways hope you all enjoy!

You were woken up by the sound of someone knocking- no pounding on your door. With a tired groan you stumbled out of bed, paying no attention to how you were dressed in your pajamas. Skimpy shorts and a white tank top that your nipples peaked through because it was fucking winter and terribly cold. Suddenly you were extremely aware of your clothed as you opened the door to see Dina. What was she doing here?

“Dina? W-what do you want?” You ask, crossing your arms to try and cover up a bit.

“Uh- nice pjs” She laughed, “didn’t Maria tell you? We’ve got patrol this morning. Get ready I’ll wait.” She smirked, her eyes traveling the length of your body.

Her gaze lingered in certain spots. Your thighs, your boobs. That kinda stuff.

“Shut the hell up. Come in, it’s cold.” You open the door wider and let her inside.

Dina accepted your offer almost immediately because she was freezing out there. She sat on your couch, already knowing where to go since she’d been at your place countless times before. You’re busy getting dressed upstairs while she waits for you. You come back all nice and ready, getting your backpack on.

Dina lead the way to the stables, greeting the stable boy Jack. He smiled at her, his eyes roaming over her body. It pained you to watch them interact as he had such an obvious crush on her, but she seemed to ignore it. Which you didn’t understand. Anyways, Jack informed her that there was only one horse available for you and Dina. Some kind of horse flu was going around and the others were busy.

She thanked him and got said horse from its stable. You let her get on first, then climbed on the back. At first you’d been hesitant, but after reminding yourself that as her best friend you’d literally cuddled, you wrapped your arms around her waist and held on tight. You interlocked your hands where they met at her stomach, and she lead you guys to the path that would take you to your patrol building. After a little bit you decided to break the silence.

“Why don’t you go out with Jack?” You asked her, genuinely curious.

“Um what?” She laughed, you felt her body shake with her laughter, “what do you even mean?” She asked in return.

“He obviously likes you Dina. I mean who wouldn’t..” You mumbled the last part, hoping she didn’t hear it.

“Oh, well I don’t care. I like somebody else.” She responded confidently.

You couldn’t help it as you felt a bit disappointed. Sure it was good she didn’t fancy Jack, but she liked someone. Was it bad you hoped it was you she liked? You’d been best friends for years now and in all that time you managed to develop a crush on her. Then again, she was so charming and beautiful. Of course you liked her more than a friend! But she’d never know, not for the time being at least.

The two of you arrived at your patrol building, making sure your horse was settled in a comfortable area before going to fill out the patrol form. Dina signed both your names and nothing else since you hadn’t come in contact with anyone, or anything, yet. There was a couch in the area, so you decided to sit. Dina didn’t take long to join you, sitting close to you.

As you sat beside her you began to wonder about who she liked. Your mind went to a few different people, some she’d mentioned and others you just suspected. Dina was quiet too. Why, you weren’t sure. But you didn’t really care, better for you to think. After a few minutes Dina stood and said she had to use the bathroom. You told her to be careful and she told you not to worry. You sat and continued to think in peace, but not for long.

You felt your nerves shoot up as you heard some clattering, and not in the direction Dina had gone. Immediately you stood and took out your gun, glancing around the room for any signs of someone or worse, something. Just as you were about to turn back around, somebody shoved you hard enough to knock your gun from your hands. You yelped as you were now pinned to the ground by a rather large man, who had a baseball bat in his hands.

You struggled underneath him, hoping to get your pocket knife and stab him literally anywhere. But it wad no use, he had been sitting across your torso and trapping your arms all at the same time. So, after realizing you could not save yourself you started to scream and yell for Dina. Just as you were sure this deranged man was going to swing his bat right across your face, he was shot right in the head and fell backwards off of you. You could barely breathe as you scooted away and stood quickly. You gasped as you ran into Dina while backing away, she held you in her arms as your breathing was fast and irregular.

“Are you ok? Y/n?” She asked, her tone laced with concern.

“Yeah, yeah. Thank you.” You had trouble answering since your breathing was so erratic, but you managed.

You nuzzled your face into her neck as your head rested on her shoulder. Her arms wrapped around your back as she kept watch for anyone else who might show up. After you caught your breath the two of you explored to make sure nobody else was coming. Then you sealed off the building so no one else could get in. You were sat on the couch with your head in your hands. It wasn’t the first time Dina had to save your ass, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. Every time something like this happened, you felt terrible.

Like you weren’t good enough. You’d never been an amazing fighter like she was, you were good sure. But that’s it, just good. Meanwhile Dina was fucking phenomenal. Dina pulled away from you with a small smile and motioned for you to go sit on the couch. You did so and spent the duration of your patrol feeling guilty. She hadn’t picked up on your mood change, which was expected since you’d come to be good at hiding it. It was time to leave and you let Dina fill out the patrol notes, after that was done with the two of you got onto the horse and made your way back to Jackson.

Once you returned, Dina got the horse into the stables and had another conversation with Jack. You stood and watched as they conversed, she seemed to be more harsh towards him this time. Not as polite as usual. You wondered if it had something to do with what you said earlier, and it probably did. After she finished speaking to him, she turned around to walk you home. But you were already gone. Your house was really close by so it didn’t take you long to get there. Once you had, you started to get unready from patrol then headed upstairs. You’d just been setting out your things to shower when there was a knock at your door.

With a sigh, you walked downstairs and answered it. And who else would it be, it was Dina of course. Coming by to check on you.

“Hi, I just wanted to see how you’re doing.” She smiled brightly at you.

“Uh, fine. Why?” You chuckled, holding onto the door as you crossed your other arm over your stomach.

“You seemed pretty shaken up and I don’t know- I’m your best friend I can tell when somethings up.” She tilted her head with a shrug.

“Look I’m fine, it’s-“ for a moment you thought about opening up about your insecurities, but you didn’t, “it’s nothing, ok?” you sighed, hoping she won’t continue to pry.

“Well, I don’t believe you, but I’ll leave it alone for now. You wanna go out, do something fun?” Dina asks with a smirk.

“I was going to shower, but maybe after?” You squinted and she nodded.

After that you let her inside and told her to just make herself at home. While she did so you headed back upstairs and into your bathroom. Your clothes and towel were set out on the counter, all nice and ready. You turned on the water and waited while it warmed up, then you got in and did what you usually do. Your shower was shorter than usual since you were trying to rush because Dina wanted to go out. You used a hair dryer so you wouldn’t look like a mess then went into your room to put sneakers on.

Dina smiled as you returned downstairs, all ready to go. She said there was some party going on at one of her friend’s places. It sounded like fun, so you walked beside her as she led the way there. The both of you arrived and as you walked in you watched Dina greet people she knew with hugs and smiles. You always admired how she was so affectionate with her friends like that. She offered to get you drinks and you accepted, making your way to the living room.

Dina returned shortly with your drinks, standing next to you then taking your hand to go and converse with some people she knew. One of them being Ellie, who you knew as well. You weren’t as close to her as Dina was, but you two got along. As you watched the way Dina talked to Ellie, you thought maybe Ellie was who Dina liked. It wasn’t a crazy thought by any means, they had known each other for a long time and there was no doubt that they were close. Maybe you were her best friend, but then what was Ellie?

The party continued and everyone was enjoying themselves, as well as getting rather drunk. You were just tipsy, as you weren’t in the mood for a ragging hangover tomorrow morning. You stood by yourself while you watched as Ellie and Dina shared a joint. There was no denying they looked like more than friends. You sighed as you set your drink down somewhere, then went to the bathroom. You didn’t really have to go so you just washed your hands then stayed there for a few minutes.

Once you exited the restroom, Dina was outside waiting for you. You gave her the best fake smile you could, but she saw right through you. Just like she said earlier, she was your best friend, she knew when something was up.

“What’s on your mind?” She asked, crossing her arms and giving you a smug smile.

“Do you… like Ellie?” you asked, looking at her as you raised your eyebrows in question.

“Ellie?” She burst out laughing like it was the funniest thing in the world, “oh my god, no! I don’t like Ellie..” She sighed.

“Oh, ok.” You chuckled.

“Y/n you are one of the most oblivious people I have ever met. Come here, I have a secret” She giggled, waiting until you leaned closer to hear and her lips were right at the shell of your ear “I like you, you idiot.”

She pulled away with a smile and you were blushing deep as you giggled. You were pretty surprised at her confession, but she was clearly drunk. That didn’t matter though, because she liked you. And she said she liked you. Dina rested her hands on your shoulders as she swayed to the sound of the music. You smiled in admiration as you rested your hands on her waist, biting your lip slightly as you watched her.

Dina seemed to be unable to help herself as she leans her body into yours. You feel her chest press against your own, causing your breath to hitch as your grip on her waist tightened. Slowly, she began to kiss at your neck. You let out a sigh as your head fell back with pleasure, Dina laughed at the effect she had on you. But, you came to your senses. She was drunk, you weren’t as drunk, but you were a couple drinks in.

“Take me home..” She whispers against your neck, her voice was needy and her warm lips were on your neck again in seconds.

“Dina.. no. You’re drunk, come on. I’ll take you home but just to make sure you get there safe.” You sighed as you pushed her away from you, keeping a safe distance.

Dina pouts grumpily and sighs. She mutters an angry fine then leans on you as you walk her home. It’s not exactly easy to deal with a drunk Dina as you’ve come to learn, but you managed. You helped her up to bed, turning away while she changed shamelessly because you were already uncomfortable enough. Finally she’s in bed and of course asking you to join her. You decline, sleeping on the floor instead to avoid anything you might regret in the morning.

The next morning you wake up to the sound of Dina vomiting in her bathroom. With a sigh at your headache, you rush to sit by her side and hold her hair back. You breathe through your mouth as you hold her hair in a makeshift ponytail and rub her back soothingly. She groans, flushing the toilet after she’d done and resting her head on the toilet seat. You grimace at this, lifting her head with your hand.

“Come on Dina, that’s gross.” You look at her as she blinks slowly, eventually just keeping her eyes closed.

“I know, I don’t care. What happened last night?” She asks, rubbing at her eyes.

“Well you drank like a lot, uhh you smoked a joint with Ellie and then I took you home.” You left out the most exciting part of the night, hoping she wouldn’t remember.

“Oh shit, yeah! You thought I liked her, man that was-“ she stopped and her eyes opened wide as her mouth fell agape and she stared at you, “oh my god..” she spoke quietly, her hand coming to cover her mouth.

Obviously, she remembered the secret she shared with you last night. Immediately she stood and walked away from you and into her room, where she started to pace. You followed and watched her as you sat on the edge of her bed.

“Dina, it’s ok, seriously!” You tried to convince her, but she wouldn’t buy it.

“No, no it’s fucking not! I-I ruined everything. We’ve- we’ve just been friends for so long and I care about you so much. My god how am I so stupid, I can’t believe I told you. I’m sorry. I’m just sorry. I don’t wanna lose you and I totally understand if you don’t feel the s-“ her words were cut off as you stood and pressed your lips to hers.

It wasn’t a great kiss, she tasted faintly of her liquor from the night before and a bit sour. Dina sighed into the kiss, her hands coming to rest on the back of your neck. You smiled, your hands coming to rest on her lower back. Your forehead now rested against hers as you let out a small laugh, she was just smiling so big and moved her hands to hold your face.

“That’s so gross, I was just sick.” She chuckles.

“I don’t care. Dina, of course I like you too.” You smiled.

You looked forward to what your relationship would come to next.

[cocogrrrl]

bandages

when you find out that the sudden thumping by your fire exit is a masked vigilante in serious pain, you have no other choice than to help him.

mysterion!kenny mccormick x gn!reader cw: severe injuries wc: 2001

AN: I NEED TO PROOFREAD THIS HELP an part two: have not proofread this, but this fic now has a part two!

Tonight was a quiet night. You had nothing going on, to be honest. No friends over, no work to be done, nothing. For once, it left you relieved. For weeks, you’ve been wondering when would you actually have time for yourself. At the same time, the feeling of not being insanely occupied was new. Honestly, it was a little boring.

First, you were trying to relax in your living room, flicking through the movies and shows on the screen. None of them seemed appealing. After that, you decide you’d do a little art, bringing out some yarn as you tried to make something out of it. You were so out of it currently, though, so you didn’t have the energy to commit to a project.

Perhaps all you needed was sleep, though. I mean, it is 10:30 PM already, but this isn’t how you wanted to spend your free Friday night. You wanted to make the most of it. Be productive or entertain yourself.

Maybe it’s for the better, anyways. You got out o the sofa and tucked away your craft materials somewhere. You’ll probably revisit them in another two months.

All of a sudden, you hear several thumps by the fire exit.

Could it have been a criminal trying to sneak in? Honestly, trying to rob a person in a cheap studio complex was kinda low if it was indeed a robber. Could it have been a cat, though? It seems likely. Whatever it was, you decided to check it.

You entered the fire exit through your window. What greeted you was the sight of some dressed-up hero, all bloody and beaten up, lying on the concrete asphalt ground. To be honest, he looked kind of ridiculous—mostly because of the costume.

You wondered if anyone had spotted him yet. No time to think, though you had to help this poor guy. Thank god you lived on the second floor, you quickly shuffled down the footsteps of the fire escape and headed straight to the man.

“Are you okay?” You asked as you knelt beside him. He was breathing, which was good—obviously. Though his costume consisted of greys and blacks, you could see that there was blood seeping into his clothes. Definitely not good.

“Just leave me…” He choked out.

“What? No. You clearly look like you’ve broken a bone or two, and I’d be fucking insane to leave you in a state like this.” You replied, pulling your phone out of your pocket to dial an ambulance.

He was quick to pull the phone out of your hand with what little strength he had. “Don’t call for help… I’ll be caught.” Oh, so probably this guy’s an actual vigilante—not just some guy dressing up.

“You need help, though.”

“You can leave me here. It’s fine.”

“Are you insane? It’s not fine. I’m not leaving you out here to possibly die!” You sighed. “Here. I’ll bring you to my place. It’s just there on the second floor. Do you need help getting up?”

“I…” You could feel the hesitance in the man’s voice. It’s almost as if he didn’t want your help. “I can go there. I just need some help getting up.” He sighed.

A few minutes later, with some struggle, you found him lying on your couch. His wounds weren’t getting any better. They just kept on bleeding through his clothes. It was even more obvious now with the lights turned on.

You emerged out of your bathroom with a first aid kit in hand. The guy had cracked a few ribs and had cuts and bruises all over his body. He looked like hell. While you were grabbing your things, he was stripping down to his underwear and mask as you requested. You would’ve noted how hot he looked if it weren’t for the fact that he was dying right now. 

You started to wrap a bandage around his chest to support the ribs. You made it as tight as you can without trying to hurt the guy as well. Right after, you headed to your freezer, where you pulled out an ice pack and handed it to him.

“Hold it against where it hurts. I’m gonna clean your wounds up, okay?” You looked up at him as you got on your knees and brought out the wet cloth soaked in a bowl of water closer to you. He nodded and held it in place. “It’s gonna sting a little bit, if you didn’t already know.”

As you worked on what you could, you could feel him tense up and even hiss sometimes. In the corner of your eye, you could see his eyes tight shut as his jaw was clenched. You felt really bad for the guy.

After a bit, you set his costume aside as you searched through your wardrobe for cleaner clothes that fit him. You pulled out an old shirt and some basketball shorts you had lying around. “Do you need help putting clothes on?” 

He shook his head. “Alright. I’m gonna turn around—just tell me when you’re done, okay?” You said. Once more, he nodded his head. You turned on your heel, hearing some awkward shuffling and grunts as you waited.

“I’m okay now.” Those were the first actual words he said after entering your apartment. 

“You can stay the night here,” you sighed, turning back as you leaned on the wall looking at him. “God knows you need it.”

“Thank you…” He smiled at you for the first time tonight. It was now around 11 PM at this point, and you were a lot more groggier than you were earlier. Your brain was fried with the distress from earlier.

“You’re staying in my bed, by the way. You’re way too big for the couch. It could be uncomfortable for you.” You said, heading to your kitchen to grab some Diclofenac and water.

“You don’t have to. You’ve been a huge help to me already. I don’t think I could accept your hospitality.” You sat beside him, handing the pill and water to him.

“I insist. I don’t think I could handle seeing you in any more pain.” Your eyes scanned him up and down. He seemed much better compared to earlier, although he had bandages wrapped around him everywhere.

“I don’t want to cause you any discomfort, dear.” He immediately jumped at himself with that little name at the end, as you did as well. You two were clearly not expecting it. It’s not that you minded it, though.

“Come on. It’s just one night… guy.” You said, not knowing what else to call him.

“Mysterion.”

“Mysterion,” you continued. “Your health is a lot more important than wherever the hell I sleep right now. Besides, it’s not like I don’t already fall asleep on the couch on the regular.”

“Fine, fine,” he sighed. “I’m just not sure if I’m able to sleep tonight.”

“Why? Drank coffee before you fell off the rooftop?”

“Funny, but no.” However, when he said that, there was little to no reaction on his face whatsoever. “I just can’t sleep. I don’t feel tired.”

“I’ll accompany you, then.” You smiled, leaning back on the couch. It’s not like you didn’t have anything better to do.

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to, okay? Besides, I got nowhere to go to tomorrow.” You said, giving him a reassuring look. You’d squeeze his shoulder to further your intentions, but you might just end up crushing him to a pulp even further.

“I can’t thank you enough…” He trailed off, not knowing your name.

“YN.” You nodded.

“Thank you, YN.”

“Mhm,” you nodded, heading for your kitchen once more to pour yourself a drink as a reward and a pat on the back for tonight. “So, who were you fighting earlier, Mysterion?” You said mindlessly, trying to make conversation with the guy.

“Uh, the Coon,” he muttered. You hummed in reply, hearing him in the quiet of your apartment perfectly well. “I’m usually the one who beats him, but I guess today’s just an off-day for me. I’m gonna beat his ass when I see him tomorrow.”

“Who’s the Coon anyway?” You asked, plopping yourself beside him again as you swirled your drink around before taking a sip.

“Some guy. I’ve been fighting him for years now. Ever since we were kids, actually.”

“So he’s your arch nemesis?”

“No, ew. No way. I don’t have an ‘arch nemesis’ per se. I have too many people I’m fighting with to actually have a designated enemy.” He said, a prideful smirk on his face as he said that.

“I don’t think that’s something you’re supposed to be proud of.”

“It isn’t, but I find joy in it whenever I’m on the streets nowadays.” He sighed, lying on the couch.

“Really? Fighting your multitude of enemies is what brings you joy?” You raised a brow.

“And seeing cuties like you as well, but whatever.” He quickly mumbled.

“Hmm? You think I’m cute?” You smiled, bringing your face closer to his—even though he was so obviously dodging eye contact with you.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Oh, but yes you did.” You chuckled, gently pinching his cheek as pulled it to have him look at you. “I heard exactly what you said.”

“So what did I say, then?” He mused your playfulness, raising his eyebrows.

“You said, and I quote, ‘And seeing cuties like you as well.’”

“Completely wrong,” he said with a pout, the visible skin because of his mask reddening faintly. “I said, ‘And California brew as well.’ Clearly, you’re just hearing things.”

“Uhuh,” you sarcastically replied, nodding. “And what exactly is a California brew? I’m assuming you meant the state drink of California, by the way.”

He paused, thinking to himself. “...Kombucha?”

“It’s wine, genius.” You rolled your eyes with a grin on your face, letting your hand go from his face.

“Well, it sounds like it could be their state drink!” 

“Mhm, keep trying to save yourself. We all know what you said, Mystie-boo.” You clicked your tongue, shaking your head.

“What’s a Mystie-boo?” He looked at you full of negative judgment, although it was definitely lightheartedly.

“Like, Pookie-pie!” His gaze which was full of judgment just became one of concern. “It’s what you call your friends! Like boo boo bear!”

“I don’t think anyone calls their friends that, YN.”

“That’s because you don’t get it!” You pouted, crossing your arms as you took another sip from your drink.

The whole night you two chatted on your couch. Your teasing was relentless. You didn’t hold back one bit. Mysterion continued with his slip-of-the-tongue flirting, and you always took note of it. You didn’t mind, not one bit. You enjoyed yourself thoroughly with it. 

The early morning approached, and it was around 1 AM. You were surprised that you were still awake, considering how exhausted you were. Mysterion, however, was knocked out on the couch. You dragged his body over to your bed as efficiently as you could—which wasn’t much, but it’s the thought that counts! You draped your blanket over him, and you head out of your room, taking your sleep on the couch like you promised yourself.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

You find yourself waking up at 10 AM. Honestly, for how tired out you were, that wasn’t too bad. You noticed you were back in your bed, though. Was the whole thing all a dream? You wouldn’t blame yourself if it was. I mean, maybe you were just desperate for a love life.

You sighed, rising from your bed as you reached over to your nightstand to grab your phone. To your dismay, it wasn’t there. Actually, a scribbled piece of paper was instead lying there. You shook your head, reaching to grab it.

Thanks for last night, cutie pookie pie. Is that right??

- Kenny, aka “Mysterion”

PS: youre the first person im running to if i get hurt badly again :]

You smiled, tucking the letter in your drawer. See you soon, Mysterion. 

[emo-batboy]

Lately, I’ve been thinking about Battinson who actually has naturally curly, dirty blond hair that he got from his parents. Picture this:

Bruce whose hair is a kaleidoscope of golden blond and strawberry blond and dirty blond that can’t be tamed when it’s humid out because it’s too wavy and curly and voluminous all at once

Bruce who looks so bright and cheerful with his soft facial structure and crazy hair that cannot be replicated because it’s so uniquely Bruce

Bruce who is a spitting image of his mother’s gorgeous natural color and his father’s wild mane

Bruce who absolutely destroys his natural hair because it reminds him too much of his parents

Bruce who tries desperately to avoid the gut-wrenching comments from those stupid rich people who thought they can bring up his parents just because they used to be friends

Bruce who feels physically ill whenever he hears “Oh you look just like your parents.” “They should have been here to see you.” “You’re a spitting image.”

Bruce who religiously dyes his hair a boring brown and straightens the shit out of it until it’s damaged beyond belief by the age of 18 but at least he doesn’t hear those stupid remarks anymore

Bruce who forgets to wash it sometimes but doesn’t care because his hair is his least favorite thing about his appearance

Bruce who gels the ever-loving fuck out of it to avoid it getting it in his eyes, but he also hates getting haircuts so it gets way too long and happens anyway

Bruce who gets greasepaint in it all the time, wears hats and hoods whenever appropriate, just can’t stop messing with it but hates bringing attention to the thing so he has to glue his hands to his side in public

Bruce who is a stranger to everyone and himself, especially his hair

Bruce who mourns it like he’s still mourning his parents

Now imagine:

Bruce who is going through the aftermath of the Riddler case and the floods

Bruce who only just realized that vengeance is not the answer

Bruce who wants to become Hope but doesn’t know how yet

Bruce who decides that he can’t hide himself behind a cowl all the time now so he chooses to develop a better public image

Bruce who realizes this requires a public appearance as well

Bruce who is way too busy saving the city to keep up his hair dye routine so he forgets to touch up his roots a couple of times

Bruce who is advised to stop gelling his hair back so much because it makes him look less approachable

Bruce who feels so awkward and vulnerable when his hair isn’t hidden behind a hat or some product or his cowl but he goes through the motions because he wants to try his best to be the hero Gotham needs right now

Bruce who walks into Mayor Real’s office one morning, hair sticking up all over the place after stopping no less than 10 muggings the night before, his natural dirty blond in full effect and strikingly…warm

“Did you dye your hair?” Real asks. Bruce pauses. “Uh, no. I stopped dying it a few weeks ago.” “I didn’t know your hair was blond.” He braces for the comments, but she doesn’t mention his parents. Instead, she just smiles. “It suits you.”

Bruce who genuinely doesn’t know how to handle the simple compliment so he just awkwardly shuffles around it and into their discussion on infrastructure

Bruce who stands outside of her office for five minutes after their meeting because he hasn’t stopped thinking about the mortifying reality that his natural hair is visible again

Bruce who also can’t stop thinking about how she said it. It suits him.

Bruce whose natural hair suits him?

Bruce who finally gets the time to dye it again after two months of nonstop work but when he thinks about what Real said…he decides against it. For now

Bruce who starts getting used to seeing his dirty blond hair in the mirror again, even expects it. visualizes it

Bruce who knows when it’s getting too dirty because the small peaks of gold disappear so he starts washing it more regularly

Bruce who watches the volume come back and doesn’t hate it

Bruce who sees the rat’s nest in the morning of golden brown and random reds and even a streak of chestnut and doesn’t immediately reach for gel and a straightener anymore. Instead, he just runs a hand through it and thinks ‘to hell with it, it’s fine like this’

Bruce who gains favor from the public along with a new look, a fresher one

Bruce who becomes a familiar face on TV as the soft-spoken billionaire with the dirty blond hair that never looks right but it’s personable

Bruce who shakes hands and holds babies and hugs kids and the most compliments he gets are for his hair

Bruce who always has just a few strands of hair sticking up in the most random direction but he just swats it away (in another wild direction) and that’s that

Bruce who stops caring so much about being clean-shaven and now sports a bit of stubble because he just likes it that way

Bruce whose hair gets naturally much lighter in the summertime because he’s outside so much now and so his golden roots bleed into a rich strawberry blond

Bruce who has so many unflattering photos from the press of his hair actually looking like a rat’s nest, like seriously how does it look That Bad (Alfred thinks it’s hilarious)

Bruce who gets haircuts regularly now and always asks if they can use as little product as possible because “I don’t like when it’s sticky” but he always likes when it’s just a bit long too

Bruce who tugs on his hair, not to push it away but to fidget with it during meetings, making it even crazier

Bruce who can be recognized from the back by his crazy swirl of hair

Bruce who’s been sporting this new hair for a year now, the summer has passed and his hair is comfortably golden brown again (emphasis on the golden) and it’s bittersweet because he actually finds that he misses the striking blond streaks in July

But it’s all worth it when he notices his curls are finally coming back in the front

Bruce who looks like a completely different person than before and he’s so so happy

[zane009]

a little bit of blue

summary: you found some bleach and box dye on your last run so maybe it’s time you ask Daryl to help you dye your hair…maybe you’ll even get him to do it as well…just a LOT of fluff and fun times

Daryl x reader

word count: around 1500

a/n: literally based on my dream lmao it’s silly 🥲…not proof read

" shit i dun' know 'f  I'm doin' this right"

Daryl grunted as he was currently trying to figure out how to bleach your hair correctly. He was given a few instructions but to be honest he had no idea what he was doing.

You and Daryl found some box dye and bleach on your last run and while Daryl thought it was completely unnecessary and a waste of space you quite literally just showed the items inside without a second thought. It's not common to do something like this these days so the thought of dying your hair felt a bit comforting. A reminder of the old world. And with Daryl helping it would make this experience that much better.

You were currently back in Alexandria sat in a chair in Daryls bathroom, trying to calm the big man behind you. It took a hell lot of convincing to even get him to agree to this. You were surprised he didn’t give up yet considering the amount of his complaints in the last 30 minutes.

"You're doing just fine Daryl just apply it like i showed you" you said as you bit back a laugh.

He was stressing himself out for no reason and it was appealing to watch. You looked in the mirror and saw him behind you trying to apply the bleach precisely with the little brush.

He was staring with deep concentration with his brows furrowed softly and the tip of his tongue peeking out just a bit. It was a habit he did when he was really focused. Just like he did when he was sharpening his knives or carving out his new arrows. Or bolts if you would ask him. You didn’t really get the difference between those two anyways.

So you couldn't hold back the laugh that escaped you this time. His eyes snapped up immediately catching yours in the mirror. " dun' laugh at me woman 'm tryin' ma best here" he puffed out as he went back to it.

"Hell i told ya ya should've asked Rosita ta help ya"  the frustration in his voice at this point was absolutely adorable. He took the last dip in the bowl filled with bleach and layered it on your hair for the last time.

You finally let in a big stretch as you hummed " I genuinely don't know why you're complaining i mean do you think Rick knows how to bleach someones hair?" You asked as you dropped your head back over the chair and saw him frowning. "I think the fuck not. You just gained a new skill bub and you look hella hot upside down"

you smiled sweetly at him as he looked away embarrassed. “Stop”

You still won because after his complaining he still leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips being really careful not to touch any of his hard work. He would lie if he said he didn't sweat his ass of for this.

"Ya are lucky i like ya" he said as he flicked your forehead slightly.

He softly ushered you back up as he sat down on the edge of the tub " 'lright how long do ya have ta leave tha' on" he asked as he pulled a hand through his hair.

You stayed silent for a minute thinking about probably the most brilliant idea you've ever had. You slowly smiled mischievously at him raising your eyebrows a bit. Daryl was immediately alert because he knew that look. It meant nothing good was in store for him.

" wha's that look supposed ta mean" he said uncertain already backing away.

" we have just enough time for you to bleach a strand before i need to rinse this out"

" hell naw!"

He quiet literally yelled as he stood up with abrupt speed. You slowly approached him as he went around the chair that was placed in the middle of the bathroom. "Ohh come on it's just a little piece of hair and we'll be matching" you said trying to convince him.

He didn't budge just stood there with his senses high on alert ready to attack if necessary. You slowly picked up the brush still deep in bleach and took a step towards him, grinning. He immediately stepped back and hit the bathroom door. Oh it was on.

As you quickly advanced forward he ran through the door into your shared room in the basement. Dog barked seeing us running probably thinking we are playing a game. Daryl went around the table while i followed him around. Dog was running around us in circles as well while we tried not to step on the poor animal.

This went on for a few more minutes just me and Daryl running around his room, with me trying to catch him. At some point the brush in my hand was forgotten as we just laughed and enjoyed the silly moment.

After a while we were back to square one with each one of us standing on either side of the table with smiles on our faces.

Sometimes I genuinely forget how closed off Daryl used to be. He would never do this with me back at the prison. But here we are now and I wouldn't trade this for anything else.

Suddenly Dog jumped on Daryl catching him off guard as he stumbled back on the couch " Dog no" he said as he tried to get him off. I took this as my chance and made my way to him as fast as i could. I took a piece of his hair and just plopped the bleach on.

Daryl stopped everything he was doing and looked up at me slowly. " tell me ya didn' " i just burst out laughing at him while he hurried into the bathroom tripping over some pieces of clothing on the way.

" how do ya get this off" he said hurriedly as his hands went to the specific piece of hair covered in bleach. He tried touching it when I quickly stopped him still smiling

" stop you shouldn't touch it it's bleach you ass"

He looked at himself in the mirror an unsure look on his face. You started giggling behind him which made him look at you through the mirror with a frown plastered on his face "we are gonna look absolutely terrific" you said as you kissed his cheek hard and then leaned you chin on his shoulder. You looked up at him and saw him let out a defeated sigh meaning you won. He pressed his lips to your forehead and mumbled " yer gonna be the death of me"

About good half an hour forward you were quietly murmured the song playing in the background on the boombox Eugene fixed for you awhile back, while you were applying blue hair dye to Daryl’s chosen piece of hair. You did went back eventually after you both calmed down a bit and fixed the bleach making sure it was perfect. He was now sitting in the chair with hands on his lap looking like a defeated puppy. But he wasn't complaining so it was a step up.

As you two were finally done with the whole dying process it was time to rinse it out. Daryl grumbled the whole time your tired to wash his piece. He wasn't happy he had to wash his hair in the middle of the day for no reason for the second time that day already. It could be just the hair strand if he wouldn't be complaining and moving around so much. Dog contributed his part by literally jumping in the tub, getting all wet and then shaking it out.

You were drying daryls hair with the towel making sure to be gentle and not tug on any of his hair. When you felt like it was good enough you dropped the towel and looked into to the mirror. Your hair was a deep blue while Daryl had a little blue piece on the side. You places your hands on his shoulders and squeezed them a bit. "Dont we look adorable"

He seemed to frown at that as he grumbled out " sure adorable fer a clown yea" you giggled a bit as you squeezed his face in your hands and kissed his cheek lovingly. Oh how you loved this man.

He thought you looked absolutely breathtaking in blue. But then again you did look good in anything according to Daryl. It was him that felt silly with his little piece of blue hair. But what’s done is done.

You ran your hands through his hair for the last time with a pleasant smile as you went towards the bath tub to clean up the mess you two made (and Dog). You knew he wasn't actually angry but it's best to let him cool down a bit. You also knew he'll come around soon. Hell its just a matter of time before he asks you to do the rest of his hair you thought as you smiled to yourself.

Although Daryl would never ever think about confessing this out loud he didn't hate it. Sure the blue in his hair was bound to bring some unwanted attention to him but he would take it if it meant seeing you smile and giggle over it. If he was honest it didn't look bad when he saw you beside him with your beautiful blue hair.

He grinned as he stood up and went over to help you.

𐬼𐮙𐬿𐬺𐬼𐮜

I don’t think i like this tbh

[snnrinc]

Codename: ROOK

Ch. 1 - Outside Contractual Obligations [AO3 Portal]

— PAIRING : Dabi/Touya Todoroki x F!Reader x Hawks/Keigo Takami

— WARNINGS : NSFW (Not in this chapter), Noir AU, No Quirk AU, Porn With Plot, Sexual Tension, Threesome - F/M/M, Drugs Blood and Violence, Crime Scenes, Organized Crime, Murder, Eventual Smut, Cunnilingus, Double Penetration, Masturbation, Analingus, Mildly Dub-Con, Not Canon Compliant, AFAB reader, She/her pronouns for reader

— SUMMARY : Being a police officer in a city where crime runs high and respect is non existent has got to be one of the shittiest jobs you've ever had. But it pays the bills. However, once you and detective Keigo Takami are assigned a case that deals with the murder of a prolific law enforcer and the subsequent chain of disappearances happening all over Musutafu, you realise that having your bills up to date is most definitely not worth all the danger you're up against. Especially when that danger is named Dabi, one of the most sought after criminals that you've been trying to catch red handed for years. Nonetheless, this is your only opportunity to make your job finally mean something, so you and Keigo decide to go undercover right in the jaws of peril, its razor sharp teeth waiting to bite into your neck like a guillotine. But you won't back out now, will you, officer? Good luck on the job, codename Rook.

— NOTES : This was supposed to be a smutty one shot I have no idea what the fuck happened. It's been gathering dust in my Docs for over a year and yet this is the only chapter I have 💀 I left notes for myself saying "don't go overboard with the plot because the point is for them to FUCK" and now here we are. It definitely worked. For sure... Still hope you enjoy!

“A big-name agent of ours went missing a few months ago. No trace of his whereabouts until a couple weeks ago, when his body was found in the dumpster behind a hole-in-the-wall restaurant. Well, parts of it anyway.”

The man in front of you took a final puff from his dying cigarette and promptly extinguished it in the ashtray in front of him, right next to a bowl of sweets with generic labels. He exhaled the smoke in billows and it vanished in the air, lingering with a pungent smell of tobacco and an awful chocolate flavouring. Your nose scrunched up slightly and you resisted the urge to cough.

“We have no evidence left at the crime scene and the body being chopped up makes it near impossible to determine the murder weapon,” he continued. “We have some of our best agents dealing with the autopsy and the case as a whole, but no clear suspects so far.”

“This seems like highly classified information. So why are you telling me this?”

You closed the file you were handed and placed it back on the desk, eyes shifting to detective Enji Todoroki sitting across from you, watching the way his eyebrows dropped down just a little in an expression that seemed to almost be judging your intelligence.

Really, you felt like you should be the one judging here.

To say you were confused would be an understatement. When you were called into Enji's office, you had assumed you did something wrong on the job, since most people in your workplace seemed to overlook you even when it came to small tasks. Sometimes you felt that if you wouldn't turn up to work one day, no one would notice. Usually, you didn't mind — being invisible meant you could do your work in peace without being bothered by unnecessary small talk or the occasional office drama that you sometimes overheard in the break room. You were just an officer, one of the lowest ranks in the force, so the only time you expected any attention was when something went wrong.

When Enji personally came to look for you before you went on patrol for your shift you felt your stomach drop. Yes, the job sucked a good majority of the time, since you noticed you were often not taken seriously by your colleagues, sometimes probably even considered a liability when dealing with more violent cases. But like any other person roaming the earth, you still had rent to pay and food to buy if you wanted to continue existing, and working for the Public Safety Commission ensured you did just that and still had some money left for your more frivolous wants. Straightening your back, you followed Enji to his office, every bad scenario playing in your mind only getting worse when, as soon as you sat down, he dropped a file containing the case details on the desk in front of you, pushing it forward in a silent prompt for you to read it.

And now here you were, bombarded with information about a murder you were pretty sure you were not qualified to deal with, at least judging by your contractual obligations. You had half a mind to ask if you'd be getting paid more if you worked on the case, but you bit your tongue from the overwhelming feeling of uneasiness creeping up your spine.

“Of course, I don't expect you to understand things so quickly.” You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at his comment. “But surely you've gathered by now that you have been assigned as an assistant to this case.”

“That much is obvious,” you couldn't help but retort. “The question is still why?”

“I was meant to be assigned to this case, but the crime rate has spiked in recent months. I have bigger issues to deal with, so the Commission decided that we need someone that can slip under the radar.”

Ah, so they just needed some cannon fodder. Part of you thought you should've expected as much from the Commission.

“I still think I'm terribly underqualified to be working on this case.”

Enji leaned back into his chair, tapping one of his armrests with his index finger. “So do I, but you'll be working under detective Takami.” He heaved a sigh and allowed a sarcastic undertone to lace his voice, “Who should've been here to give you a quick overview of the case progression so far, but who are we to count on his punctuality?”

Wait a second, working under who?

You blinked and did a double take at him, replaying his words in your mind as if trying to dissect their meaning. This was fantastic in the worst possible way. Not only did you practically have a murder case of a prominent agent dropped into your inexperienced and unsuspecting arms, you were now the right hand of the second best detective of the Commission, Keigo Takami.

If only you had these kinds of odds bestowed upon you if you played the lottery, surely you'd have won enough to ditch this job.

You thought back to what Enji had just revealed to you and couldn't shake the feeling that there was a different reason why they would ask an officer to help with this case, other than just “slipping under the radar”. With one of the best detectives taking over, you figured the Commission wouldn't be stupid enough to allow someone like you to get in the way of the investigation.

As the questions multiplied in your mind, your tongue was tied, unable to figure out a way to put your doubts into words, especially since you knew Enji would do nothing to soothe them.

There was a knock on the door breaking your train of thought, before it opened to reveal detective Takami, an easygoing smile etched on his lips, his gloved hands buried inside the pockets of his shearling jacket, with only one coming up to push his aviator sunglasses that were resting on the bridge of his nose to the top of his head.

“Sorry I missed the introductions,” he said, “but I'm sure we weren't called here just to chat.”

“At last you grace us with your presence, detective. A little while longer and our officer here would've taken over the case in your stead.”

You whipped your head towards Enji, almost ready to ask him if he was serious, before you looked back at Keigo to see him meet your gaze.

“I'm Keigo Takami, it's a pleasure to meet you.” He gave you a charming smile and extended his hand for you to shake. You grasped it firmly and introduced yourself. “So, were you one of the first responders at the scene?”

“Actually,” Enji interjected, “the officer is unfamiliar with the case at the moment, save for the basic details.”

“Oh?” Keigo frowned in confusion.

“As of today, this is your new assistant in this case.”

Keigo blinked a few times, then shook his head and huffed a laugh. “I'm sorry. What? An officer? Not that I mean to doubt your judgement or anything, but isn't this case a little too sensitive for an officer to deal with?” He turned towards you. “No offence.”

“None taken, I'm a little confused myself.”

Enji sighed and massaged his temple with one hand before he leaned forward. “You see, your role in this case will be a little more... 'hands-on' than usual. I mentioned we don't have any concrete suspects, but we do have an idea of the organisation that might be responsible for the murder, which is why we need to employ your help for the investigation.”

“I don't see how this is anything new,” Keigo said. “We've been investigating the League for a while, they operate in this area. Tying them to this murder would be the most obvious first step.”

“The League?” you interfered.

Enji raised an eyebrow at you. “Are you familiar with them?”

“Uh, yeah.” Your eyes shifted between the two men watching you. “They've made a name for themselves amongst the police officers. We've been trying to catch a few of them in the act but they always slip away.”

“Unsurprising for the police force,“ Enji scoffed and you frowned. “Let's hope we won't have the same disappointing results in this case. We have no time to waste on pathetic failures.”

Keigo looked at you from the corner of his eye and noticed the way your shoulders tensed up. He leaned over and dug his hand into the bowl of sweets on the desk, effectively catching both of your attentions. With a fistful of candy, he resumed his questions for Enji who was dishing out your responsibilities.

“So is this about the NOMU Program?”

Enji's eyes narrowed. “How do you know about that program? It's classified information, even for you.”

Keigo shrugged and shoved some more candy into his mouth. “If it is about that, I'd argue that's even more reason why we shouldn't drag an officer into this.”

“Sorry,” you interjected. “What is the NOMU Program?”

“Don't concern yourself with things outside of your duties,” Enji snapped.

“Come now, let's be courteous with our colleague,” Keigo said with a light-hearted tone before turning to you. “It's a codename used by the League. We figured it stands for Network of Metahumanoid Units. A fancy name that's probably got to do with their attempts at reanimating corpses.”

Fuck, so now you were dealing with zombies? Sure, technology as a whole was impressive, but it was nowhere near sophisticated enough to bring someone back from the dead. As far as you knew, every attempt to reverse death was futile. So then why would someone bother?

Enji noticed the confusion in your eyes and spoke before you could ask any questions. "They're planning to use them as weapons. Keigo called them corpses because essentially that's what they are: on the brink of brain death.”

“The only reason why they don't collapse is because the League is pumping them full of a drug called Trigger that boosts their baser powers,” Keigo continued, earning an annoyed glare from Enji at how readily he presented the classified information to you. “We've only had a few attacks reported so far, and we weren't sure what exactly we were dealing with, so we had our top agents deployed to deal with them. Which is why the police weren't mobilised.”

“Sounds like a pretty important omission to me,” you countered with a frown. “So is this what we're dealing with here? Drugged up zombies?”

“We're still unsure,” Keigo answered. “If this victim was supposed to be part of the NOMU Program, then we wouldn't have a body cut up into pieces on our hands. Maybe they're trying to send a message.”

“That's where you two come in," Enji announced. "This time, you will not be dealing with any forensic analysis, suspect interrogation or evidence collection. Instead, you two will act as our eyes and ears and infiltrate the League.”

An insurmountable amount of pressure crashed over you and clenched your muscles in a vice grip, to the point where you almost felt as if it would crack your bones at any moment. You tried to control your expression in an attempt to stop your shock from washing over your face, but surely the vein that started throbbing painfully in your temple was enough proof.

“Hold on.” You raised your hand again to signal for Enji to slow down. “You mean to tell me you called me here to act as your spy?”

Enji scowled. “I don't like it either. They shouldn't send a rookie in for such a big case. I should've been the lead, but it wasn't my decision to make, so I suggest you suck it up and do your job.”

Your voice was exasperated, “There are so many ways that this could go wrong if you send me out there! I'd just hold detective Takami back!”

“I have to agree,” Keigo said. “It's best if I work on my own as usual.”

“Well you see, Takami, things are not so easy in this line of work,” Enji snarled, then produced two folders from his briefcase and stood up, handing them to you and Keigo. “Commission's orders and instructions. Read them thoroughly. Good luck with the mission detective, officer.”

And with that, he stepped out of the room and you felt as if all oxygen made an exit along with him, your heart pounding in your chest so hard you could almost hear it through the grave silence that fell over the room as you read the instructions:

“Officer,

As of today you will refer to yourself as Rook and to your mission partner as Hawks. Forget your real name. Return your weapons, badge, uniform and any other equipment that may be in your possession at the reception of the PCS HQ.

While infiltrated do not contact anyone outside including family members, friends, acquaintances and other PSC employees except for your partner.

You will not have any accolades attached to your name. Your achievements will not be disclosed by the PSC if you succeed. You will receive no posthumous awards if you die. This is your duty to fight for the people. Failure to comply could result in dismissal, sanctions and/or prosecution.

Destroy this document after reading.”

This job was so not worth it.

You watched the grainy screen of the tube TV perched in a corner of the office intently, listening to the news broadcasted somberly by the anchor along with your colleagues. Keigo was by your side, expertly twirling a pen in his fingers, but his focus was zeroed in on the screen, his nose and mouth buried in the raised collar of his jacket.

After the discovery of the body of the Commission's agent, the disappearances around Musutafu increased by a concerning margin. What was worse was that not all of them were agents, some were simply civilians that seemingly had powerful or useful builts and abilities, like the person whose face was now on the screen, their name, last known location and clothes they were last seen wearing listed underneath the picture.

You crossed your arms over your chest and frowned. If this was what you were dealing with, even with your training and experience you were unsure how you'd survive as a double agent. You had no special skill, no upper-hand tactic and you couldn't rely on Keigo—Hawks—for fear that you'd hold him back and compromise the mission.

With how they had you bring back anything that would suggest you'd ever had any contact with the Commission, it really seemed as if they were trying to erase any trace of your existence. This job was all you had, all you ever worked for since you were just a bright-eyed trainee at the police academy, ready to take on any danger coming your way if it meant you could save someone else from it.

How naïve.

Maybe you should've just given up when you were still a child, still able to choose a path that would fit you and your capabilities more. The society in which you lived was unforgiving to weak people, so you had to adapt. But women were not always respected in the police force, and those who were got there because of their network rather than their own abilities more often than not. Not to mention that a police officer's chances of advancing without having someone behind them were close to none.

In other words, there was no way out for you. But at least you weren't exactly the perfect catch for whatever the League was planning, by the looks of things.

From the fog of your worries, you felt Hawks tap your shoulder to catch your attention. His collar was now pushed down neatly and you could see the serious way in which his lips were pursed. He gestured with his head for you to follow him and you complied with a nod.

You reached his office, after stopping by your desk to collect the last bits and pieces you had left laying around, and sat down in front of his desk, one hand worriedly rubbing your chin as you looked out the window. His eyes never left you as he sat down and leaned back in his chair, the pen he was playing with earlier still in his hands. He watched carefully as your brows turned downward in a frown that casted a shadow of concern over your eyes, before he put the pen down on the desk, the sound making you turn to look at him.

“I know you're worried,” he started, “but I want you to know I won't let anything happen to you.”

You let your hands fall into your lap. “Please, don't worry about me. I don't want to be a drawback in this mission.”

“You won't be,” he said, but noticed you were unconvinced when the corner of your lip lifted in what was supposed to be a polite smile, but didn't quite reach your eyes. “You graduated as the top eighth trainee in the police academy, surpassing like, what, 22 of your classmates? That's pretty impressive.” You stared at him in a mix of confusion and surprise and he shrugged nonchalantly. “I've read your file. You've got a lot of potential, officer.”

You smiled and nodded as thanks. In the past, this kind of compliment would've left you feeling all warm and fuzzy on the inside, feeding into your pride and fuelling your determination to get even better. But now, the comment felt like tossing a coin down an endless pit, nowhere near enough to fill the hollow space in your chest and, despite its value, ultimately useless. When did your outlook on your job get so sour?

Maybe it was when you were put up for disciplinary action after attempting to stop one of your fellow officers from brutalising a murder suspect. Or maybe when you had one case shut down because the culprit was the daughter of an acclaimed attorney that somehow found the perfect team of lawyers to render the evidence null. Or maybe it was simply after you had graduated from the academy and were thrown out into the real world. Any way, perhaps this was the universe's way of making up for all the times it fucked up. By giving you a new opportunity.

You picked up the pen from Hawks's desk and fiddled with it. “Officer, huh? I thought my new name was Rook.”

Hawks chuckled. “They're really terrible at picking codenames, huh? Sounds like we're just two bird enthusiasts with no imagination.”

You chuckled at his comment and after a moment you bent down to rummage through the box in which you had collected your remaining possessions from your desk, pulling out a document. You opened it, quickly finding the file in which you and Hawks took notes about your action plan.

“So,” you started, scrolling through the notes, “you were saying you already have a way to get inside the League?”

Hawks leaned forward on his elbows to get a better look at the notes. “Well, yes and no. Enji didn't tell you this, but remember how I said we've been investigating the League for a while? Well, I've been in contact with one of the members. I managed to get close enough for him to think I'll soon defect and join them.”

“So you've been planning to go undercover for a while now?”

“It's the only way I could squeeze any information out of them. They seem pretty loyal to their cause, so getting one of them to become an informant for the PSC was highly unlikely.”

You nodded in thought. “So who's your contact?”

“A guy named Dabi.”

Your blood ran cold and your eyes shot up to Hawks. You knew that name too well. Not only was he notoriously known among the law enforcement as one of the most dangerous members of the League, but he was the person responsible for numerous counts of arson in your area, courtesy of his pyromaniacal tendencies. You'd been trying to find a way to get closer to catching him for years. Each time, he slipped out of your hands, your attempts always too late or too little.

You knew what Dabi was capable of, and without the comfort of a self defence weapon and protective equipment by your side, you feared you'd be turned to ash before you even tried to get any information out of the League.

You stared through Hawks for a few seconds. His eyes searched your expression as he frowned in confusion at your sudden change. You noticed that and blinked a few times, clearing your throat.

“So this contact is our ticket inside, but how do I get him to trust me? I think I'd be found out before I even get to talk to him.”

“No need to worry, I'll send him your way somehow. You then offer to be their informant. We'll have to act separately to avoid raising suspicion, so if we cross paths, try acting like you don't know me personally.”

You nodded in acknowledgement then remained quiet for a second before frowning in thought.

“I don't understand. If you already have an in, then why would the Commission send me to help?”

Hawks sighed. “You heard what the Commission said, you'll be the bait.” He leaned back in his chair. “The League is reluctant to let me join because I'm a well-known detective. They know who I am and what I do, but they don't know you. If you manage to convince them you're also just a crooked law enforcer, that would be the last step we need to finally get inside.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

Hawks regarded you thoughtfully, tilting his head and looking you up and down. His scrutinising eyes seemed to glow as the final rays of dusk poured through the blinds of his office window. Before he even spoke, you knew that his idea would not be to your liking.

“Say, how comfortable are you with flirting?”

[butterbabyflapjack]

GIF by daniel-bruehl

Brat chapter.3

Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader

sexual content, sexual tension, dominant ghost, power dynamics, messy feelings, voice kink, mask kink, glove kink, dom/sub, indirect daddy kink, biting, rough sex, begging, brat breaking, voyeurism, just a dash of possessive choking, forced eye contact, oral fixation, tactical gear kink

Taglist: @ahoycaptainautumn @your-highnessmarvel @wolfgalsniper @confuseddipshit @prettynalilgay @merzkihstuff @alfie2401 @emberwolfgames @willowbrookesblog @meujias @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @magicgal @verios @flrwpwr @jewelsisurmom @imjusthereforghostsmutt @circuskatt

Chapterlist: chapter.1 - chapter.2 - chapter.3 - chapter.4

You’ve been acting like a brat, and Ghost has had enough of it.

“You can consider this punishment. Can consider it me spoiling your bratty behavior. But you wanted my attention, and you’ve gotten it. So tell me now if you don’t want me to bend you over this desk and fuck you until it breaks, otherwise I’m taking what I want from you, and you’ll accept everything I give like the greedy fucking whore you’re pretending so hard not to be.” He pauses, as if for your reply, though your tongue won’t move, your heart won’t beat; all of you tangled and drunken and warm; your stomach clenching almost painfully tight as you hear his hoarsened hum. “I need an answer, love.” “I…” you swallow, hard. Unable to deny that your panties are steadily soaking through for him, though still you somehow manage to stammer, “I’m not a whore you asshole…!” You hear the smirk behind his mask. “You will be for me.”

Chapter 3

Authors Note: This is NOT the angsty-possibly-(probably)-smutty follow up chapter to what happened last time with Ghost, not yet. I just couldn't resist showing the gangs reaction to you being exorcized by Ghost in the next room first :p Also… things aren’t messy enough. Not yet. So let’s make them messier 😏

This was originally supposed to be a oneshot, but I’m having fun with it so you’re getting your very own codename <3 You’re henceforth known as Hush ~

(also I’m making up a few teammates for you because I want to embarrass you in front of as many people as possible <3)

Mortified is an interesting term. 

Though it doesn’t quite cover the sheer amount of embarrassment you feel when walking into the kitchen later that night. Later, after the whole, uhm…

Well.

We won’t get into that.

Your heart squeezes into a fist just thinking about what Ghost did to you on his desk.

Anyway–

You don’t want to brave the kitchen right now – not that you’re terrified of pots and pans or anything, but with how tiny this safehouse is, and with how its tiny living room is attached to its miniscule kitchen, by heading in there you’ll also be confronting anyone residing in said spaces. And you’re pretty sure everyone on this temporary little task force of yours is in there, seeing as how there’s nowhere else to go, not with how you’re all locked up in here, and not with how that old tv in the living room is the only real source of entertainment in passing these days that never seem to end. 

You’re really not sure you’re ready for this. Facing everyone. But here you are tentatively sleuthing your way down the hallway toward the kitchen, anyway – which you’re only doing because you’ve been holed up in your room all damn day and your stomach’s about to collapse in on itself like a dying star if you don't eat something in the next five minutes. 

In the end, you’re left with few options. Try to sneak into the kitchen like a ravenous forest creature, or die of starvation in a shitty Amsterdam apartment. And though, given just how loudly you might have been screaming Ghost’s name just hours ago, the later choice is tempting… you eventually opted for the former. Straying from the safety of your room, which is separate from the only other room in this place that all the rest of the guys are crammed into. Praying to every god you’ve ever heard of that there’s a possibility your teammates suffered temporary deafness earlier, or that maybe they never had fully functioning ears with the ability to hear things to begin with. Things, like…

Well.

We won’t get into that.

Preferably, we’ll never get into that. Because you hardly even know what that even is, beyond something undoubtedly messy.

As you sneak your way toward the hallway’s bend, tendrils of Soap’s deep, sonorous voice reach out to greet you, echoing lightly off the walls as he seems to be bragging about something, while Gaz’s voice chimes in to call him a ‘cocksure idiot’; the whole array spotlit by a few laughs from whoever else is in there watching the Soap-and-Gaz show. And the second their voices reach you, suddenly your feet feel leaden, dragging you to an abrupt halt just outside the kitchen. 

Shit. They’re all in there, it sounds like. 

Maybe even Ghost.

The thought of facing him again, of feeling those dark eyes sear into you from the skull-like sockets of his mask, has you reeling, and you nearly turn heel and bolt back to your room again. In fact, it takes a whole lot of mental pep-talk, not to mention your stomach reminding you that it will try to kill you if you don’t give it what it wants, before you’re finally able to take a breath deep enough to force yourself forward again.

You’ve never wanted a flash grenade more in your life – you could just blind all these idiots, grab some canned spaghetti or whatever prepackaged filth they’ve scrounged from the cupboards to cook up, and get the hell out. But maybe it’s better you don’t approach social gatherings like potential warzones.

Gods, how is this more nerve wracking than a warzone…?

You grit your teeth, fighting to keep your expression neutral. Calm. Unaffected.

Just… ignore them, if they say anything. Ignore everyone. This is a mission inside a mission. Get food, get out.

It’s a decent enough plan, given the circumstances. 

Too bad it slips your mind entirely the very second you slip out of the hall and inside that kitchen. Because the very moment you wander into view, the stagelight that previously shone down on the Gaz-and-Soap show is unequivocally, violently shifted to you.

You.

Standing there.

Forgetting how to walk. How to breathe.

The proverbial deer in headlights.

Them. 

Gaz. Soap. Fuze. Blight. Ash.

Everyone but Ghost, which even through your petrification you feel a flashwave of relief upon noticing, and you would notice him if he were there, he stands head and shoulders above everyone else for christ’s sake. He’s like a militarized watchtower become man, and if you have to face everyone else right now, at least you won’t also have to also face him.

Still, even without his intimidating presence, it’s not like this is some comfortable cozy arrangement you’ve just stumbled upon.

Time stands still. The air shifting. And you could hear a pin drop with how suddenly quiet the room becomes, all conversation dropping.

Soap and Gaz are standing in the middle of the tiny kitchen. Soap, slowly turning to face you fully; thumbs loosely hooked near his collarbones within the straps of his beige tactical vest. Gaz, leaning casually back along the counter with arms folded, though his posture perks up a bit at sighting you standing there. And the three other guys – Fuze, Blight, Ash – they’re all sitting on barstools behind the counter beside them. All their eyes undoubtedly focused in on you.

Soap is the first to really react. A subtle curl slowly tugging at one corner of his lips.

“So…” he muses; accent dragging the syllable long. “You’re alive.”

Some part of you’s relieved he hasn’t said anything else – anything more, well… taunting, maybe. Accusatory, even. Or at the very least teasing. But relief is short-lived when that sharpened glimmer in his eyes promises many things.

Regaining the ability to function somewhat like an actual human being and not a petrified doe, you struggle to maintain eye contact with him, not wanting to look away first from whatever this is – this, with him staring at you like that, squaring you up head to toe, his measured expression never changing.

“Yeah…” you say, sounding more casual than you feel, “why wouldn’t I be?”

“Oh, I dunno,” Soap is quick to return, with far too clever a husky lilt. “You’ve been holed up in that room of yours for quite a while now…” 

He nods to the guys sitting behind the counter to his left, though his seawater eyes remain fixed on you. 

“Fuze thought you might be dead,” he says.

“I didn’t think shit,” Fuze argues bluntly, “not about that, anyway,” to which Soap steels himself in eyeing you.

“Fine,” he amends, “I thought you might be dead.”

He seems… weirdly tense. Which is strange, given that it’s Soap, and given that he’s maybe been presented a silver-fucking-platter of ammo to tease you until the end of time with.

Since when does Soap not playfully prod you in the ribs first change he gets?

“Well… here I am,” you murmur around the knot in your throat, forcing yourself to walk toward him and further into the room even as you lose your staring contest with him, glancing away from his iron-blue intensity, “very much alive, and very much hungry for whatever delicious shlock Ash’s cooked up for us this evening – so if you’ll excuse me–”

You make to slip past him toward the stove and whatever leftovers remain atop it, but the kitchen’s already small, made especially smaller with two guys like Soap and Gaz filling it, and instead of sliding from your path Soap doubles down, folds his brawny arms across his chest, digs in. Blocking your path so that you’re forced into something of a standstill with him; blinking up at him as he stares down at you like he’s about to interrogate the enemy.

…Fuck.

“Move,” you say, but he doesn’t. So you roll your eyes and treat him like a military machine instead of a man, “Codeword: move the fuck out of my way, Soap.”

“What were you and L.T. up to in his office?” he asks you, point blank, and you feel a specter of panic slip across your features, your eyes widening at his brashness, heat hinting up your cheeks as you hear someone chuckle

You hear Gaz from somewhere beside you mutter, “Woah there, down boy,” though he’s apparently still intrigued enough to keep on watching.

Your teeth clamp down on your lower lip before you manage to mutter up at him, “That’s none of your business.”

“Debatable,” he returns, eyes passing over yours, “seeing as how you put on a very public show for us.”

Irritation ticks along your nape. “What, are you pissed you didn’t get an invite?”

Something almost imperceivable cracks along the edges of his composure, though beyond the way his broad jaw tenses, it’s impossible to notice. 

“C’mon, man,” Gaz says, though neither you nor Soap look over at him. “You know damn well what they were up to.”

“I wanna hear her say it,” Soap says. That flicker of amusement in him gone. The intensity in his gaze enough for you to finally unhinge your stiffened jaw enough to force a scoff.

“None of you know what you’re talking about,” you mutter – which is definitely a lie but you’re not about to explain yourself to them, and especially not to Soap even if you normally might’ve confided in him, but you definitely won’t now, not with him grilling you like this.

Jesus, what the fuck’s come over him?

“I mean…” you hear Fuze mutter from the sidelines with bearish mirth, “We’re not deaf, sweetheart. These walls are made of paper, and you put on quite a show.” 

When you toss a glower at where he’s sitting, the broad man offers a simple shrug. 

“Don’t look at me. You’re the one fucking our lieutenant in front of an avid fuckin’ audience.”

The amount of heat that creeps up your face could likely start the damn place on fire.

“I… I didn’t fuck anyone–!”

“I suppose you were just spooked by an actual ghost, then,” Soap returns smoothly, his usual brand of amusement creeping back in. The sinews of his forearms flexing against how he’s folded them across his muscled chest. “‘Cause you were definitely screaming for one.”

Your hands curls into unsteady fists, though you refuse to look away from how he’s watching you, how he’s assessing you. Like he’s looking for something possibly hidden there. Trying to get a reaction, to read you.

You’ve seen him like this before, when he’s questioning people, usually captives or enemies. Have seen it enough times throughout your years of knowing him to know when he’s fishing for information, for something left unsaid. And though you really don’t like that he’s using that technique on you, you’re so flustered you can’t really think straight, can’t formulate some kind of gameplan against his efforts. 

“I don’t know what you’re talki–!”

“Oh, Ghost,” he mimics over you in an obscene, high-pitched moan – and it’s actually kinda mortifying how closely it resembles you even with how fucking deep his voice is. “Ghost! Ghost! Oh, fuck – Ghost!”

The other guys all snigger, even Gaz, while you feel your blood boil so hot steam must be fizzing off your ears as you glare at him. Resisting the extreme temptation to either punch him square in the face, or fold in on yourself and disappear from center-stage entirely.

“Fine, I fucked a ghost,” you eventually huff at him. “I fucked Casper, and he has a bigger dick than any of you. Happy? We done with the twenty questions?”

Soap eyes you a moment longer, mirth upon his lips. 

“I guess,” he relents, at length. Seeming content about something. That playful glint in his eyes lowering into deep, blue embers of heat. “But you know…”

For once in the entirety of this far-too-public inquisition, he deems it necessary to make things more private. To bow down to your level. To murmur softly against your ear.

“In all seriousness,” he breathes, “m’not sure I’ve ever heard you so desperate before, Hush. You really put your codename to shame, moaning and mewling like that…” 

His amusement warms your skin, and though you should likely stop resisting the temptation to punch him, your arms won't cooperate. 

“And with Ghost, no less…” he says smoothly. “Gotta hand it to’im… The man clearly knows what he’s doing, playing you like that…”

You hear his smirk; his words so quiet only you can hear them, though you feel the way everyone’s ears seem to crane in without anyone actually moving.

“Did he take the mask off?” he asks, and you snort. Not seeing the point in playing dumb to just him, seeing as he clearly already knows what you and Ghost were up to.

“You know he didn’t,” you mutter, and hear his spreading grin.

“Ah,” he breathes. “So he really is ugly, then.”

He laughs a bit as you tense in protest, though you don’t actually spare him a response, seeing as how you’re not even entirely sure why you’d protest in the first place. It’s not like you’ve ever seen Ghost before, not like he’d ever let you. You don’t even know his real name. And a man like him is far from needing anyone’s protection.

“Shame, really – that mask hindering things. As a friend, I feel I oughta tell you there’s a helluva lot more a man can do with his mouth to make a lass scream,” he rumbles, and you don’t bother to fill him in that you’re very much acquainted with your lieutenant’s tongue, if that’s what he’s getting at. Maybe not in the ways he might be thinking about right now, and maybe not in those sticky little ways currently tangling your thoughts until you can barely think – but still.

“Well… if you see any men fitting that description around here, do let me know,” you say back at him, fighting to maintain your composure, and hear his lowered chuff. “Seems I’m surrounded by a bunch of schoolboy idiots.”

“Oh c’mon,” Ash pipes up from the sidelines. “Speak the fuck up, yeah? This is the second most interesting thing to happen all day.”

Soap ignores him, though you hear him expel a short, amused breath; maybe at the thought of whatever must have been the day’s first most interesting occurrence, which your gut says is whatever Ghost let them hear of you breaking for him and is absolutely what has an embarrassed flush creeping up your neck.

“All I’m saying, lass,” Soap murmurs, “is that if you were looking to be fucked senseless, you could’ve come to me. If a brute like L.T. can make you sing like that, I can only imagine how sweetly you’d sing for me…”

When all you manage is to blink, that one motion drags like an eternity.

…What…?

Why is…

…Is Soap actually coming on to you…? 

Like… not in a joking, ‘we’ve been friends forever’ way… not in a silly-fun ‘I’m just fucking with you’ way… but like actually coming on to you…? In front of everyone…?

Even as bewildered as you are, his voice, his words, their suggestion – they all sink tendrils of heat curling down your spine, spreading out into the very tips of your fingers and toes.

No… No, he’s kidding.

He has to be.

He shifts back just enough to look at you, to read your expression as his gaze hangs unwaveringly above your own. And it takes exceptionally longer than it ought to to remember you aren’t the only two people in the room. That an ‘avid fuckin’ audience’, as Fuze so lovingly put it, is very much watching you and Soap’s every move, trying to figure out why you’re worrying your lower lip like you want to bite it right off, why Soap’s studying you like some elusive creature he’s only now come close to catching.

This is… this is too much. You can’t handle this right now, or maybe ever. You can barely even wrap your head around finally giving into what may be your feelings for Ghost, and you’re not about to let Soap keep stringing you through the mud for his and everyone else's amusement right now.

You came here for some goddamn spaghetti and you’re going to get it.

“Hold that thought,” you tell him, as offhandedly as you can. Ignoring that steady heartbeat in your stomach, like your ribs spilled open. Forcibly pushing your way past him, to which he grins the second your hands are on him, even if it’s just to shove the stubborn brawn of him aside in forging your way toward the stove behind him. 

Just as you suspected – there’s a scuffed little pan of what used to be warm spaghetti sitting on the stovetop, a serving spoon buried in the mush, its handle jutting to one side. And you grab it without really thinking, scooping up a large spoonful of that room-temp slop as wetness shlocks around your utensil. 

You’re fast, because you have to be. You know Soap’s reaction time is uncanny – he’s on 141 for a reason, same as you. And the very second he’s turned around enough for his gaze to follow you – you’ve already lobbed that oily wad of spaghetti at him.

You really are a better marksman than Price. And the second you hit your mark, spaghetti splattering Soaps face right below one angled cheekbone, a satisfying chorus of ooo’s and impish cackles accentuates the room. Pasta painting his scruffy, chiseled jaw a lovely tomato red, something resembling a meatball sticking to his skin a moment before dripping off onto his chest, staining his form-fitting tee, as gradually, what was once his boyish smirk becomes his tight-lipped scowl.

You’d actually been aiming for right between those scowling seawater eyes of his, but pasta’s a tricky ammunition, and I won’t tell anyone if you won’t.

“Shit, mate,” Gaz leers at him. “You hungry?”

Everyone’s giggling, and oh, it’s lovely, seeing Soap like that. Those heavy brows of his furrowed, pretty eyes narrowing. You’ve never seen something so beautiful in your entire life.

“Red’s definitely your color,” you lark at him, unable not to grin.

He bluntly wipes the spaghetti off his cheek, ignoring everyone but you. Watching you close as you stick your spoon back in the pan again before taking the whole thing with you, attempting to slide past him in making your escape, now that justice has been served. And even though this sludge looks disgusting, you’re more or less content to wolf it down straight from the pan in the safety of your room.

Maybe you were an idiot for thinking Soap’d let this all slide that easy.

The second you’re narrowly slipping past how his body fills the tiny room, he catches your waist in one hand, redirecting your escape attempt in bumping straight into him; his other hand smearing the greasy pasta sauce that’d one graced his statuesque jawline across your flabbergasted cheek, instead.

His hands are so warm. It’s the first thing you notice, when you should likely be a little more preoccupied by the fact he’s fingerpainting you with goddamn pasta sauce. And when you gasp aloud, jolting in his grip as if stricken, your widened gaze whips up to find him already grinning.

“Aye,” he muses. Eyes dancing across your own, across your lips, across the mess he’s made of you. “It definitely suits you, too.”

Something like a knot twists in your stomach as he watches you. As you feel his dense fingers coil around your waist just enough to lightly indent your curves, just enough to tug you a fraction closer. Watching you like he’s hungry. Like he’s resisting the urge to lick that sauce right off your skin.

And, fuck – the fantasy is in your head before you can stop it: Soap burying one hand in your hair, fingers knotting, tilting your head back just a bit, just enough so he can lean down close, can run the flat of his tongue up your cheek. Thrumming, savoring like a dog. Slow, wet heat along that red-painted corner of your lips. 

You’re left imagining what his tongue might feel like; your pulse sent unevenly, inexplicably racing. 

And it gets worse. 

Much, much worse. 

Because in the span of a single second, your lust-distorted mind also has you picturing how you might return the favor, so to speak. How you might just as equally fluster him, because he definitely deserves it. How you might take his calloused hand, raise it to your lips. How you might slide his fingers into your mouth, one by one, sucking each offending finger clean, working your tongue around them while his blue eyes smolder as he watches.

Oh, god, what the fuck, what the fuck – !

What the fuck is happening!

You need to get out of this goddamn kitchen. 

Gods, why is he looking at you like that…?!

You need to get out of this goddamn kitchen now!

You need to lock yourself back up in your room before any more horrible ideas can sneak their way inside your head.

“Are you guys having a food fight?” Gaz asks, “or is this some weird-ass kinky spaghetti shit I’d rather not be subjected to?” 

He lifts a brow at the two of you. At how you’ve both been staring at one another as if the entire world around you no longer exists – though you’re definitely sent on a crash-course back to reality at his saying so, with you blinking so rapidly your head spins.

It takes a few hazy seconds for you to tear your eyes from Soap’s; gliding them to whatever safety the floor might give you.

“‘Scuse me,” you mumble thickly, brushing past Soap, who surprisingly – at least with how this evening’s been going – steps aside to let you.

A dark, barren hallway has never looked so inviting, and you scuttle through it whilst clutching that pan of spaghetti to your chest.

Voices from the kitchen echo on the walls, trailing after you.

“What the fuck was that?” you hear Gaz ask – and though you’re pretty hellbent on fleeing, your pace still stumbles a step, ears craning back to listen.

“Dunno what you’re talkin’ about, mate,” Soap says. 

You hear some soft, sucking sounds, like he’s licking his fingers clean, and you nearly trip and fall face-first over your own feet.

“Just teasing the lass.”

“Eye-fucking her, more like.”

“Nah, mate. Just wanted to see where her head’s at.”

“Okay… and where’s that?”

“Not in a relationship.”

A pause follows, in which you forget to keep walking; all your senses honed in on even the smallest of sounds.

“Ghost might say otherwise.” 

“Well, Ghost’s not here, is he?”

“I wouldn’t fuck with his girl, mate; that’s all I’m saying.”

For whatever reason, it twists your heart into a painful knot when Soap says, “Seems to me she and L.T. don’t share much of anything worth labeling.”

Author Note:

Messy feelings and messy food. Yum~

😘~💕 thanks for reading