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tiredfox64 · 19 days

Note

Hello, good afternoon, it's my first time doing this XD could you make a gn!lector x trio lin kuei? the brothers showing affection to the reader in their different love languages

Love is Many Things

Prior notes: I did headcanon type of way cause that was just simpler for me to do :P. Hope this is okay for you!

Pairings: Lin Kuei Bros x Gn reader

Warnings ‼️: None now stop contacting me about financial aid!

Bi-Han

Hear me out ladies, gents, and non binaries.

Physical affection!

If he loves you he will be touchy and you better be touchy as well.

He is a touch starved fella you need to at least hold his face.

He will hold you but that is also out of possession.

Sit on his lap, go ahead, don’t be shy.

Fine he’ll drag you on. Don’t tell him you are too heavy he doesn’t want to hear it.

Hugging you from behind while he rest his head on your shoulders, classic move.

He pinches. Yeah…what do you mean what do I mean?

If there is any part of you that is squishy (cheeks, thigh, arm) he pinches it but not on purpose. It’s in the manner like a grandma coming to squeeze your face but she does it too harshly.

Cuddles in bed, no you may not leave. Unless you are bleeding or need to use the bathroom then you can leave.

If he is holding your hand he will start to lightly rub his thumb over your hand.

He’s a man of action not words so take his lovin in physical form.

Kuai Liang

Words of affirmation!

I have a feeling sometimes he is poetic with his words.

Whispers in your ear as you fall asleep. Tell you how fantastic you are and how lucky he is to have you in his life.

“Death can never separate us. You are mine and I am yours. We are eternally together. It is our destiny.”

If he is far from you he will send letters.

I just know he has decent cursive. Not good just decent.

Compliments you on everything.

He will always find a way to compliment your looks. It could be something simple like your hair is glorious to your eyebrows are well kept.

If you have any skills he will compliment that to.

He encourages anything and everything you do. Go into a hobby that may seem strange to him but if it makes you happy go right ahead.

He is always willing to talk to you whether it be an issue in the relationship or just something you want to say that seems important.

Communication is key he makes that a big point. Tell him if there is anything wrong. He will tell you if something is wrong.

You will have a personalized nickname that fits you. You feisty? Fire lily! You happy? Sunflower! You angry? Ember! He will always add ‘his’ before it.

Tomas

Gift Giving!

We don’t know where he gets the money to purchase everything for you, he might be stealing.

It starts off simple with giving you a smooth rock like a penguin does.

It elevates to bouquets, crystals, food, etc.

The max is when he is buying you everything you love or even take a glance at.

Oh so you like Hello Kitty? BAM! Hawaiian Hello Kitty plushie the size of your bed. A Lego fan huh? BOOM! Millennium falcon set.

It’s easier to accept it because if you don’t he gives you that sad face that crushes your soul.

He will bring you something back from whatever mission he is on. Again that could be a smooth stone or a vintage watch. Whatever he can scavenge for.

He always has this wide grin on his face when he hands you a gift or when he tries to hide it behind his back.

Sorry not sorry you’re gaining relationship weight because he keeps buying you food.

He likes buying you clothes. Some of his choice seems to be more for him than you wink wink nudge nudge.

He’ll be asking you nonstop if you need something so he can buy it for you.

“I saw it and thought of you.” That’s the best thing to hear.

All of em

I’m not done yet.

Ooo someone stop me I never stop with having all of them.

As a combined effort they do acts of service.

Of course they are going to protect their precious partner. If someone even scratched you they would be in a ditch.

Heaven forbid you get sick, they gonna take care of you in every way they can. You need some Vic’s vaporub?

You tired after the long day? Let them draw you a bath and get you some nice clothes before putting you to bed.

They’ll cook for you. Well, Kuai Liang and Tomas will. Bi-Han got agitated one time cause he burned his finger on the handle and ended up throwing the pan out the window. Never again.

Surprise dates! Yippie!

Sigh I’m involving children again.

They are all helping out with the kids. It’s okay to take a shower they will watch over them.

I’m counting a group cuddle as an act of service. It would be service to me.

After notes: I think I might post my oc real soon. I know I’ve done it before and I end up deleting it but I’ll try to keep it up next time. Now I need to shower. Adiós!

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chaos-in-deepspace · 12 days

Text

LNDS: Bongo Butts | 18+

I should be going to bed but I forgot to do laundry so here I am, writing more content that nobody asked for. Just like motorboating them...when I see them butts. Just. WHAM BAM. Thanks for coming to my TED talk. Also hope you know I had to research different types of dump trucks for this fic.

Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+. Warnings: Ass Slapping, Crack Fic, Playing their asses like they're bongos, Zayne's lost sanity, Rafayel is scandalized as per usual, you mentally scar Raf, Xavier is confused as per usual, but is he confused?, he does get you back tho

Blog Information | Masterlist

Xavier

Xavier really did need to be more careful around you. He was the one who wanted you to date him first, in your defense. He chose you. And you wouldn't let a single day go by that you didn't prove why that was a horrible decision on his end. At the very least, he could claim that he was never bored with you around.

Today was supposed to be a lazy day. You two had off from all missions and were relaxing around the apartment since it was too damn hot to actually go outside. It also happened to be laundry day for Xavier, so he was dressed in his workout attire while his uniforms were being deep cleaned from all the dirt that accumulated on them during his missions.

Those shorts. They were so damn short. You'd even call it slutty because hot damn. His ass was just right there. It was staring at you. Hypnotizing you like it was a snake charmer. Your hands were already twitching in a grabby motion as you stared directly at those perfectly rounded globes on his backside. His beautiful bubble butt.

Xavier could feel your stare burning into him as he looked over his shoulder. He was just sun bathing by the window, laying on his stomach. So vulnerable to your upcoming attack.

"Something you need?" Damn, he already sounded suspicious. It might've been by how you were practically drooling with your hands up, ready to grab at him. It was a slight give away. He should've been more prepared though, because you lunged at him in that moment.

He only had time to turn slightly when you pushed him back on his stomach, sitting on his back to pin him down. Your hands took a fistful of his ass before you began hitting them with little force. Just watching them jiggle with every little slap of your hands.

You were cackling like a maniac as you continued your assault until he managed to maneuver you off of him. You were laughing, your cheeks flushed as you almost teared up. His entire face was red as he stared at you in horror. Then you saw a flash in his eyes and you knew you were done for.

He grabbed you, pulling you onto his lap. Then you felt a harsh slap at your ass, making you squeal. It was so much rougher than you had hit him. He stared at your back side and did it again.

"I can see why you found this so entertaining. I think I'll play with this for now."

"Unhand me you creatine!"

"I think not, if I let you go, who knows what else you'll do to me."

Zayne

Anyone who has ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on Akso's best Cardiac Surgeon knew that one thing was a pure fact. He had an ass. His doctor's coat did a good job concealing it, but he couldn't wear it all the time. You had even noticed a few nurses who would glance down at him when he passed them in the hallway.

It was something you knew very well about Zayne, and something the man seemed oblivious to. The man didn't just have a dump truck as a rear end, it was a dump trailer. That shit could keep a family fed for an entire year. It was so perfect in every way. You could grab onto one cheek with both hands and you still wouldn't be able to capture the entire thing.

Yet for some reason, Zayne had no idea just how badly you needed his ass. You would often times find yourself staring at it when you hung out, had an appointment, or were just lounging at the apartments. It plagued your thoughts. You were losing sleep over this. It wasn't good for your health.

"Zayne..." You said as you relaxed on the couch next to him. You two were catching up on a TV show that you started well over a month ago but hadn't had time to really enjoy it.

"Yes, did you need something?" Oh how sweet he was, always looking out for you.

"Yes actually...can you lay down on your stomach for me? I wanna do something." You said, knowing that this man would do just about anything you asked. He eyed you for a moment, contemplating if he wanted to play this game with you.

"Might I inquire as to why?"

"That's for me to know, and you to find out."

Zayne took one more moment before giving in. He adjusted his position, laying down on his stomach just as you had asked. You decided to be subtle, leaning over his form and placing your hands on his shoulders at first. You gently caressed the skin there, massaging the muscles through his shirt as you slowly made your way down to the small of his back.

There it was. The prize. The holy grail of all asses. It was ripe for the taking as you looked over to see Zayne's closed eyes as he relaxed under your touch. You didn't hesitate. Your hands slapping down on his ass and grabbing it roughly.

His eyes shot open as he looked over at you. You licked your lips as you began gently slapping the flesh, watching the bounce as though it were made of jelly. It was a sight to behold and you couldn't help yourself. You had seconds before Zayne reacted and pulled your grubby little hands off him.

So you leaned your head in and bit down. His pants managed to cushion him from the force of your bite, but he sure as hell felt it. He sat up and grabbed you under the arms like a cat, stopping you in your tracks as you stared at him.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Playing with your nice ass."

"My butt is not a play thing."

You paused for a moment, eyes trailing down to the front of his pants, "If you aren't gonna let me slap your ass, can I play with your dick like it's a Bop-It?"

You watched Zayne go through five stages of grief. He sighed as he grabbed a blanket next to him, wrapping your entire body like a burrito so your limbs were no longer effective. He then sat back down on the couch with his legs open and placed you between, holding you tightly to his chest.

"I'm begging you, please be quiet for once and let's finish this show."

Rafayel

He should've known you were up to something if your gaze was anything to go off of. You had zeroed in on him the moment you had come over. Even during your little date as you two explored Linkon together, he knew something was up. Your not so subtle glances in his direction couldn't be considered innocent.

If only he knew why you were staring so hardcore. He had gotten a new pair of pants, or at least you assumed they were new. You were pretty sure you'd remember them with how good he looked at the moment. It was tight on him, accentuating his ass perfectly. You were pretty sure if you riled him it would also perfectly outline another aspect of him.

Still, you had a mission. Rafayel didn't know it yet, but the moment you had caught a glimpse of him this morning, you knew what had to be done. His muffins needed to be squished. His plump little cushions had to be properly admired and worshipped. You would be the one to happily give them the attention they deserved. An ass sculpted by the gods themselves were staring at you literally all day.

You closed the door to his home slowly, turning over to him. He was already heading to the living room. You slowly stalked behind him, and he could feel you were up to no good.

"Something caught your interest? I know I look good, but not even you normally stare at me this much."

"I just think you look particularly handsome today is all." As does his ass. You couldn't say that yet though, he would realize what your plans were if you verbalized it too early. Like a cat stalking a mouse, you followed him until he was in the living room. The moment he was by the couch you took action.

You rushed behind him and pressed down on the small of his back, making him stumble forward. He grabbed the edge of the couch, his body hunched over. Rafayel turned just in time to watch you drop down to your knees. Then he felt your hands harshly gripping his ass. Then the quick slaps in succession followed as you began laughing maniacally.

"Finally!" You said as you grabbed at them again. Rafayel finally reacted, rolling onto the couch to get away from your hands. You were practically panting as your hands twitched, "Come on Raf, lemme just squeeze em again."

"You are a psychopath." He said, hiding his ass from your view.

"I'm your psychopath though." Despite how horrified Rafayel looked, he was also amused by your antics. He grabbed at your arm, making you fall forward and your chest pressing against his own. His hands went to grab at your ass this time, squeezing them and laughing.

"You know, I think I'm seeing the appeal of this." He commented, his hands lazily hitting your ass cheeks like you had to him, although he was far more calm about it.

"See, it's amazing...now can I go back to playing with your butt? I wasn't done yet."

"I think not...although this has given me an idea. Do you mind if I paint your backside?"

"You wanna paint on my ass?"

"Perhaps."

"...I'll agree if you let me eat your-" Rafayel had never cut you off so quickly.

"Never mind."

The most accurate representation of what we're doing to these poor men. I will not be silenced. Their asses need to be slapped. And ate

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obessedwithfictionalmen · 3 months

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I'll come pick it up after pt.2

John Egan X Female!Reader

Sumarry: When John comes back from the mission, "injured", he wants his watch back...

Warning: Historical inaccuracies/ flirting/ use of Y/n/ mentions of blood/ violence (punching someone)/ medical inaccuracies

Word count: 1,8k

Her leg was bouncing up and down, she was biting her nails as she nervously watched the watch that Major Egan gave to her. ‘’Y/n, what are you doing?’’ a nurse asked. ‘’Nothing, why?’’ The nurse got down on her knees next the very anxious woman. ‘’You look nervous.’’ She took a deep breath as she watches the time again, it was the fifth time in the last 2 minutes. She couldn’t wait for him to come back to get his watch. At first, she didn’t understand why he gave it to her, but when he said he was going to come and get it back, it was clear to her that he wanted to see her again.

‘’Let’s get home boys!’’ Major Egan’s voice was filled with joy when he said those words. He was going home; he was going to see her again. ‘’So, who was the lady?’’ his co-pilot asked with a hint of teasing in his voice. ‘’She’s the chief nurse, she’s pretty. But she’s mine!’’ He wasn’t usually the jealous type, but with her, he was going to fight every damn kraut just to see her again. He felt weird claiming her like this, she wasn’t an object, she was a woman, a wonderful woman. Well sure she was an object, of all his desires, he was obsessed with her, and they’ve only had met. ‘’Alright, she’s yours, are you gonna go piss around her to mark your territory’’ His co-pilot teased again. John Egan chuckled, but not too much, his focus right now was getting this plane back home, and getting his watch back, so he could talk to her.

‘’They’re back!’’ One of the kids working with the mechanics yelled. Y/n picked up her skirt and ran outside. Because she was the chief nurse, of course, not because she wanted to see if Major Egan came back in one piece. Who was she kidding, of course it was to see if he was okay. She had been worried sick about him the second his plane took off. She was counting the number of planes that were coming back, they only suffered 2 losses, it was sad, but it could’ve been worse.

When his plane landed, Bucky’s stress was back, he had to see her, and he had to get all her attention. A part of him hated himself for the idea he just got, the other half was screaming to him, to do it. ‘’Hey, punch me’’ He seriously said to his co-pilot. The men beside him turned his face to see if Bucky didn’t suffer any head injury, but no, he was perfectly fine. ‘’What?’’ ‘’Punch me! And don’t go easy on me, I must bleed’’ He was being serious. ‘’Come on, punch me.’’ His co-pilot couldn’t believe what he was earing. ‘’Major- ‘’ ‘’No major, no ranks, just punch me so I can go see the nurse!’’ He admitted, scared that his co-pilot won’t do it. But he did, and before his fist went into Bucky’s face, he told him how crazy he was. Then- BAM- the right fist of the co-pilot went directly in John Egan’s face. To his pleasure, his face was bleeding, his nose too. He was going to get her attention.

‘’Nurse!!’’ She recognized the men screaming, it was one of Egan’s crewmates. She was running towards the plane, and saw her John, with blood all over his face, but everyone else seemed fine, but that wasn’t her concern right now. ‘’I’ll take him!’’ She announced to the other nurses. Bucky was in awe, she was amazing. The way that she ordered the other nurses around, while helping him walk, he couldn’t believe his eyes. Her scent filled his nose, she was smelling like roses. He wasn’t a big fan of roses before, but they became his favourite flowers. ‘’Told you I was coming back, darling’’ He smirked.

As they entered the nurse’s building, Bucky was happy, he was going to be alone with her. ‘’We’ll go in my office, some of your guys are wounded and I don’t want you to see that’’ She explained as they entered her office. He was still bleeding, but he didn’t mind, he was going to spend more time with her. He was too tall for her, so she couldn’t make him sit on the chair, he was going to have to sit on her desk. ‘’Sit on my desk, I’ll go get the things I need’’ She left the room as Egan sat on her desk. He examined the office, the wall had an ugly color, but he knew that they couldn’t paint the walls. His eyes stopped on a picture of her with a small kid, they were on a porch of a house, probably the house she grew up in. It might be her brother, he thought. He hoped it was her brother a not a childhood friend that had a massive crush on her. She came back in her office and closed the door. ‘’You’ve found the pictures’’ she said as she washed her hands. ‘’Yeah, it really stands out on the ugly wall’’ He laughed, looking at her. ‘’I know, it’s depressing, I can’t change the color’’ She approached him, she needed to examine his wounds before treating him. He opened his legs, so they weren’t in the way. She came close to him and looked at his face. ‘’Is it okay if I touch you?’’ She asked, unaware of the dirty mind of the pilot that coughed a little. She saw that he was confused. ‘’Your face, Major. Can I touch your face’’ He nodded, and she put her hands near the open wound. He hissed, his face was sensitive, after all, he was punched in the face. She quickly removed her hands, scared that she was hurting him. ‘’Don’t worry, it’s just sensitive, work your magic, darling. ‘’ Her hands were back on his face as her breath was shaky, she was close to men all the time. But there was some sort of tension in the room, it was almost intimate. They were both nervous. ‘’So, what happened to your pretty face?’’ she asked. He smirked at the word pretty. ‘’Pretty uh?’’ he teased, he wanted to see if she was comfortable. ‘’You’d like that Major, but seriously, what happened to you?’’ her tone was playful. ‘’Pirates, they invaded the plane, I had to fight to save my crew’’ he was inventing a fake story, because what was he going to say? I asked my co-pilot to punch me in the face so I could spend time with you and have all your attention? He couldn’t say that.

‘’Pirates?’’ She tilted her head, smiling. He nodded. ‘’I’ll have to clean up the wound, and maybe stitch it up, the pirates got you pretty bad.’’ He smiled; he was making her laugh. ‘’Yeah, they were thieves, they wanted the watches of the crew, I told them that I gave mine to a pretty girl. They weren’t happy about it, so they beat me up’’ he explained with a flirty tone. His voice was deep, Y/n had to focus on treating him. She took a tissue and put it under water so she could clean the blood off the Major’s face. ‘’This might hurt a little’’ she warned. ‘’I can take it’’ she smirked. ‘’If you can beat up air pirates, you can take anything.’’

She started to clean the blood under the attentive gaze of the men, he was watching her every move. She felt intimidated by the way he was looking at her, his eyes were screaming I wanna be yours. She was focused on his face, when she’s focused, she bites her lips. It wasn’t intentional, but John Egan thought he was going to melt on her desk. She quickly cleaned him up and then, looked at the wound again. ‘’I’ll have to stitch you up; I’ll go get something for the pain’’ she was going away. But he grabbed her wrist, not wanting her to leave. ‘’I’ll manage, if it hurts too much, I’ll let you know’’ he said.

The tension in the air was too much, for both. While she was prepping her stitching kit, he was watching her again. ‘’Who is the kid with you in the picture?’’ he asked, with his deep attractive voice. ‘’He’s my brother’’ she answered. He was relived, it wasn’t a childhood friend, there was no ring on her finger, and no sign of her being in a relationship with anyone. John Egan felt butterflies in his stomach. ‘’You’re ready for this Major?’’ the way his title escaped her lips drove him crazy. He thought about her saying his title in another circumstance, but again, he couldn’t get a boner when she was about to stitch him up. She came close to his face again, but this time, with a sewing kit in her hands. ‘’I was born ready.’’ There weren’t many stiches to put on his face, just enough to help the scarring process. ‘’If I hurt you, please tell me, no grown men act. Tell me’’ she explains. ‘’You could never hurt me, darling’’ she blushed, he smiled.

She began to work, it was painful for him, but it was bearable. She was so careful; her hands were soft on his skin. Again, his eyes were on her, he was admiring her, again. This time, hers on his face, she wanted to see if there was any sign of discomfort. After 5 stitches, she was done. ‘’They’re you go, as good as new’’ she exclaimed. Bucky didn’t want her to be done. ‘’So, do you have my watch?’’ he asked. She smiled and went to wash her hands in the sink in her office. ‘’Of course I have it, we couldn’t let the pirates have it’’ they both chuckled as she reached in her shirt to get it. Bucky thought he was dead; he was in heaven. She put his watch in her bra. He could faint, he was trying not to blush. He was jealous of his watch. ‘’ It was in my pocket, but when the planes arrived, I had to move fast and I put it there, you don’t mind, do you?’’ she said, handing the watch to the men. ‘’Not at all darling’’. She was going to reply to him, but a nurse burst in her office, covered in blood. ‘’Y/n! We need your help! We can’t find the artery and we can’t stop the bleeding!’’ she was in shock. The chief nurse looked at the major, and then ran to help her nurse. The room now felt cold, her presence was warming him up. Now that she wasn’t in the room anymore, he felt cold. But he couldn’t be jealous of his injured crewmate. The only thing he was jealous of, was his watch. He was looking forward to tonight, the celebration for the mission that went well. He was hoping to see her, so he could ask her to dance.

Part 3 is here ⬇️

If you enjoy please let me know.

#john egan x female reader #major john egan #master of the air #john egan #callum turner imagine #callum turner #austin butler

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maryangelex · 2 months

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Please, please, please.

I am requesting an Ex!husband John price/ Fem!reader, where they divorce and he’s absolutely devastated by it, grovels and upset that he lost the love of his life, and then years later by circumstances are in force proximity with each other and have to deal with communicating all their grievances and then bam heated smut and pent up frustrations at each other, and then get back together.

Thank you so much and I really appreciate you! But it’s also okay if you skip my request :)

a/n: anon how could i possibly leave this delectable prompt unanswered!!?!?!?! i have literally been saving this one for almost last because i need to use 110% of my prune brain its so amazing. one thing about me is...im a whore for ex-husband!price *clutches pearls* im sorry for making ya wait, i hope you love it!!!

this is gonna be a long one!

c/w: ex-husband!price, make-up sex, forced proximity, quickie, against a wall, p in v, creampie, john price yearns for his pretty wife

It hadn't been easy, no divorce is easy, really. Much less when it was something you didn't really want to do, but more so saw yourself as needing to do. The nights without John had gotten too lonely, his side of the bed had gotten too cold. You thought the times he was back would make up for the times he wasn't. When John came back from deployment it felt like a coin toss: sometimes it was your honeymoon all over again, but other times he was cold and distant.

You had two kids in tow; two kids that needed their father. You were a wife that needed her husband just as much. You don't blame him for not being there of course. After all, you owed it all to him; all you ever wanted he got for you, he provided you a house to raise your children in, to grow old in. He gave you nothing but unconditional love. That's what made everything harder when you decided you couldn't do this anymore. You couldn't keep hoping he'd come home to be his normal self every time just to be met with the shell of the man you fell in love with.

You knew it wasn't his fault, you knew his line of work. But having to be alone the majority of the year plus having to still be alone when he was around had gotten to you, it had become too much. And John knew this. When you told him through sobs and wails that you couldn't do this anymore, that you felt hopeless and alone and like this was the only remedy, he understood. He had packed his things and left without a fuss, leaving you the house and renting an apartment barely a drive away. He tried to make it as simple as possible, arranging to stay with the kids every weekend and more if you needed time for yourself. His silence and compliance to separate felt like more of a dagger in your chest than the reason to separate to begin with. You wished he had fought for you, that he had yelled at you and argued with you to stay and fix this.

Little did you know that when he found himself in the empty single-bedroom apartment he rented himself he did nothing but cry like a neglected child for hours until his eyes stung and couldn't physically push out any more tears. John Price was a man made of stone and yet he found himself clutching his chest as he sobbed for his wife nearly every night and every lonesome morning. He kicked himself for not fighting for you, as well. He blamed himself for having to come to this in the first place, for leaving you alone and not knowing how to cope well enough to be the very best of himself when he came back from grueling missions. For not being able to look you in the eyes after losing a man, for not being able to open up to you and cry like this in front of you when he needed to let it out of his chest, for not making love to you like a tending husband should at his wife's every whim.

He felt like the consequences of choosing his career had finally caught up to him, and losing you was his penance.

The two of you finalized your divorce quietly and without struggle, feeling like it only drove the knife deeper into your chest. You settled on the kids seeing John every other weekend and he'd be more than welcome back home to be present as their father. Because that was the thing about John: he may have not seen himself as a good man (not good enough for you, for sure) but you both knew he was the best father your kids (and you) could ever ask for.

It's been a year since your divorce; John had been living in his separate flat whilst you and the kids stayed home. He'd come every week, and take the kids every other weekend. Now your oldest's birthday was a few days away and who were you to deprive him of coming? After he had been doing such a good job at not crossing your boundaries, at being a loving father and giving you every bit of warmth and kindness and love that he gave you when you were still together...the more you listed these things the more your heart ached and you doubted yourself. The more you realized you still loved him.

On the day of your kid's birthday, he made sure to get there extra early to help you set up the place. He bought the necessary supplies, picked up the cake from the bakery, and set up the chairs and balloons. Hell, you barely lifted a finger. And of course, he was more than happy to do everything and anything for you with that cheek-pulling smile of his. As the party went on and the house filled with guests and wild kids running about, you scrambled around the house to make sure no one needed anything. That's when John intervened.

"Everythin' alright, hon? Been runnin' round the house like mad," his voice was sweet like honey as he entered the garage, where you were taking out can after can of soda from the spare fridge and into the cooler with ice you brought with you. You didn't turn to look at him as you sighed in exasperation, but you could feel John just a few steps behind you.

"Just making sure everyone's got something to drink...the sodas've run out in the cooler outside and--"

"Everyone's havin' a good time, love," John cut off your rambling with a light chuckle, the rumbling of his voice making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. He interjected by taking the cooler from your hands "Let me get that for you," he said, lifting the heavy plastic for you. You sighed again and brought the back of your hand to rub your forehead. You finally looked up to meet his eyes, which were gazing at you with so much adoration it made your stomach twist.

"John..." you started, and he responded with a furrow of his brows and a silent question. "Please don't look at me like that."

"Like what?" he asked.

"Like you still love me," you blurted, and the beat your heart skipped let you know you physically regretted saying that, instantly.

John's lips pressed into a thin line as he paused for a moment in silence.

"I do still love you," he confessed. You shook your head in disbelief and scoffed.

"John, please, it's our kid's birthday," you dismissed as you turned on your heel and made your way to the door except-

Right, you now remembered why it was a rule in your house this past year to not close the garage door: the lock was busted. You gripped the knob firmly and gave it one, two, three harsh tugs, hoping to somehow force the door open. You banged the door with your fist in frustration, hoping maybe someone heard it on the other side but all you heard was the music playing on the other side.

"Let me have a go," John said, placing the cooler down and tugging just as harshly, even slamming his shoulder against it to see if it would budge, but nothing. You and John were trapped in your garage. You let out a groan and a quiet curse as you pinched the bridge of your nose with a hand on your hip.

John placed a hand on your bicep. They were cold from the ice but the squeeze and rubbing of his thumb on your skin was filled with warmth.

"S'alright, take a breather, hon," he said tenderly, "they'll miss us soon enough to come lookin' in here."

You nodded as you stepped away from his touch. You never stopped John from still using terms of endearment for you, it never felt like a big deal. You were frustrated from the party, the perfectionist in you wanting nothing but to give your kids the best party, and now you were locked up in the garage. To make matters worse, you were locked up in here with your ex-husband who just said he still loves you.

"I meant what I said, love," his voice was barely a whisper but it still brought you out of your thoughts.

"John..." you warned.

"No, I mean it," his tone rose, firmer this time, "I still fuckin' love you, baby."

"Well, it's too late for that now, isn't it? You're gonna make an effort now, John, a year later?"

John was silent, pleading blue eyes gazing at you, the muscles in his jaw tensing.

"You didn't fight for us, John. You didn't fight for me." your finger pointed to your chest firmly as you looked back at him with tear-filled eyes.

"I know, baby, I know," his voice shook in his throat, "I should've fought for us... I should've been a better husband to you, better dad for the kids I-- I should've just been there."

You were quiet as you choked on a quiet sob, the tears escaping down your cheeks.

"I haven't stopped loving you for a second, my only regret in life is not having fought harder for you, having let go of you so easily - fuck," you watched the tears prick his eyes as he stepped closer to you. His palm came to cup your cheek and his thumb wiped away the tear staining your cheeks.

"I failed you. I just...please, baby, I just want one more chance to be a better man for you... I just want my girl back." His tone was soft as if he was reciting a prayer kneeling at a pew. His other hand came to the other side of your face, tucking your hair behind your ear before it cupped your other cheek alike.

You sobbed and brought your hands up to his wrists, shaking your head lightly, knowing all you really wanted was to forgive him despite your denial.

His forehead pressed against you as he whispered once more, "Please, baby..."

"John..." you tried

The tip of his nose rubbed against yours, "Please," he repeated, "be my pretty wife again...be mine again, yeah?" His lips brushed against yours and his hands were firm on your cheeks. You sobbed one more time before his lips pressed against yours, slotting together like two pieces of a puzzle. And fuck, you melted as your lips met.

His lips against yours just felt so right; they were your husband's lips, after all. They were made for yours and yours were made for his, that's why you knew you were so perfect for each other. The way he kissed you made your chest break into a million pieces because you just missed him so much.

The hold on his wrists became limp and you didn't resist - you couldn't resist his kiss because you wanted it so desperately, you've wanted it for this entire past year.

Your mouth moved with his, lips clashing and caressing against each other, teeth clicking together with the force of your desperate kisses, your tongues hungrily pressing their way into each others' mouths. John's hand slid to the back of your head, fingers snaking into your hair and raking through your scalp. You hummed into his mouth at the feeling.

Your hands slid up his back, balling into fists over his shoulder blades and gripping the fabric of his shirt as if you'd lose him again if you didn't hold him firm enough. You held him impossibly close to you as he did the same, your bodies familiarly molded to each other.

You felt John step forward as he still kissed you, backing you up into the nearest wall and it made the heat in your core ignite like a bonfire. When you felt the cold wall against your body, you pried your mouth away from his to gasp a breath but it wasn't half a second later before he captured your lips again. His hands slid down the frame of your body, pawing at your chest and curves before eagerly bunching up the skirt of your dress around your hips. You scrambled to his belt, clumsily and hurriedly doing your best to unbuckle it and undo his pants.

He scoured under your dress to tug your underwear down your thighs with messy urgency. His lips sloppily and wetly trailed up and down your chest and neck before finding their way back to your mouth.

Your hand palmed his hardened length through his boxers and he groaned into your mouth. One of his hands took hold of yours and stuffed it in his boxers to stroke his aching cock as you both panted between kisses.

"All yours, darling," he groaned as he guided your hand stroking his cock, "forever fuckin' will be yours."

And you whined at his words, or maybe at the way his other hand snaked between your legs, fingers wetting themselves with the slick pooled between your folds before pressing into your hole. He pumped his fingers in and out, making you reminisce on how those thick digits have made you feel so good in the past.

You moaned his name like a prayer, pleading for him to fuck you because you needed him. You've needed him for a fucking year and couldn't wait a second longer.

John would give you anything and everything, he always has. So he wasted no time in removing his fingers from your pussy, coating his cock in the slick they collected, and using his other hand to hike your leg up around his waist.

You braced yourself against the wall and with your hands against his shoulders as he practically lifted you off your feet and insert his girthy, swollen cock inside of you. You moaned unabashedly at the way he split you open as he bottomed out.

"So perfect...my perfect wife," he breathed, "made just for me, baby." His fingers dug into the flesh of your thigh and you were sure it would bruise the same way your nails clawing through his shirt were sure to leave crescents on his skin.

John pumped his cock in and out of you slowly but firmly for a few strokes before picking up the pace. His rhythm was relentless as he fucked up into you, pistoning his hips and making your skin clap against each other.

You threw your head back as you whined and moaned at the feeling of the head of his cock bullying against your cervix. Thank god for the music outside.

John hiked up your other leg, wrapping both around his waist as he fucked you against the wall hard and needy. His eyes looked deep into your teary ones, not breaking away to not miss the gorgeous sight of his pretty wife getting fucked by him after so long. He moaned at just the look on your face, at the way your walls gripped him like a vice.

"Look at you... never lettin' go of somethin' so beautiful," he practically slurred, his rhythm becoming sloppy and desperate as he chased his high, and he knew you were close too.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and took his mouth into another starved kiss. Your hands tugged at the hair on the back of his head and you let him fuck you with the same longing and desire as the first time.

You chanted his name between breathy moans as you climbed up to your climax. John was a mumbling mess of endearments and sweet nothings as he kept thrusting hard and sloppy into your squelching pussy.

"I love you, John," you choked out through tears, not knowing if it was from the pleasure he was giving you or from the overwhelming emotion being with your husband again was making you feel.

"I fuckin' love you more, dove," he accentuated his words with thrusts until he felt your walls clamp around his length and watched as you wailed and sobbed out more moans, sending him into his own climax with just a few more pumps shortly after. You were sure you'd bear him a third child with the way his cum seeped out of you.

He rested his sweat-coated forehead against yours as you both panted. You were a flushed mess against the wall, limbs liquefied and throat raw. John slowly let you down with the utmost care in the world, gently holding you up on your feet like you were a delicate porcelain doll.

You held each other close as he peppered soft kisses on your face, the same way he'd always done after sex when you were married. John Price, always the gentleman.

You basked in the afterglow as you gazed at each other, love filling John's wide dark pupils. It was hard for you to hide the smile that tugged at your lips and it made John chuckle, thumb rubbing your cheek lovingly.

Then, you heard the rattling of the door and you quickly stood up straight and collected yourself up on your feet the best you could. Kyle, or Uncle Gaz as your kids coined him, and the other two men had burst through the lodged garage door.

"Oi, how long you two been locked here?" he questioned.

"Aye, we been callin' youse for half 'n hour," the Scott quipped behind him.

John scolded them for not acting quicker if they were so worried, and scowled at the way the younger two had shit-eating grins plastered on their faces. He dismissed them as he picked up the cooler, which was now more full of water than ice, and shot you a look.

You chided at his smirk with your bright red cheeks.

"This mean I can move back in?" he teased.

"We'll see, John" you fought back a smile.

#cod mw2 #call of duty mwii #cod fanfic #fanfic #john price #anon ask #anon request #thanks anon!#price mw2 #captain john price #captain price #price #price x reader

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idyllcy · 9 months

Note

Hey there how about a Damian Wayne x reader fic!!

Mind going through a rabbit hole and kinda wanna have a moment of Damian having girlfriend who can jump through multiverse, maybe she met him accidentally while visiting and bam both fell in love and we see reader staying and only leaving for certain missions

Orrrr…

Damian meeting Wonder Woman Child and then catching feelings! Whole cliche ‘I hate you but secretly I love you’ depends on you!!

freefall - damian wayne x reader

"Oh, fUCK." You slam into the ground underneath you as you step out the portal, frowning when you realize you didn't fall on the cement. Something broke your fall.

"Robin!" Nightwing swings down as you jump off the person who broke your fall.

"Where the hell did you come from?"

"Ohhhh... fuck." You purse your lips. "Is this earth?"

"One of them."

"Mm." You grimace. "Sorry for slamming onto you. I'm, uh, a dimension traveller."

Damian gets a good look at your face, brows pulling into a frown as his cheeks grow dark. You look good. You look too good. One would say...

"Wow..." You catch yourself in the glass of the building. "I look out of this world."

Dick laughs at your joke as you give him a grin.

"You know if I can stay anywhere for the time being? 'kay, even if you don't offer me a place to stay, I'm still going to break into your place since..."

"Do we exist in your universe too?"

You blink slowly at Robin. "Yeah."

"Come on." Nightwing offers a hand to you. "Oracle, we're bringing in a stray from an alternate dimension home."

"I'll let B know."

"You guys are surprisingly calm about this." You blink.

"B's got a thing for picking up strays."

"Fair enough." You smile. "So... Robin?"

"Mm?" He raises a brow at you.

"You single?"

#damian wayne x reader #damian al ghul x reader #damian wayne imagine #damian al ghul imagine #robin x reader #this is like crack laced sorry anon #the other req with ww's child was selected by the wheel so that'll take longer <3

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antifrgl · 1 year

Note

Headcanons about Hobie Brown strangers to friends to dating with another Spider person where they meet at Spider Society?

thank uuuu for ur request, i was so bored !! hope you'll enjoy reading that anon !! srry for the possible mistakes, i just had a lot of thoughts rushing through my head 'cause hobie is definitely my fav !!

friends 2 lovers ☆ atsv

hobie x g-neutral reader, fluff.

despite his somewhat intimidating look, he has shown to be pretty friendly, so he certainly approaches you first ++ hobie assumed that you should be his age so it's simply natural to him !!

he's very cool about it, just asking you what's up, what's your name etc ...

at first, it's quite professional ?? you have great but small conversations when you two go on missions, yet you don't seek for more time to spend together.

later, as you go on more and more missions, you eventually become friends, but again it's not like you visit each other or vent about your life outside of being a spider person.

but hobie genuinely thinks that you're a great friend and partner since you can always reciprocate his energy during the few times that you see each other :p

e.g "i hate being called spider-" "i know, you hate being called spider-punk 'cause fuck them labels" "ay totally"

eventually, hobie starts to see you under a different light when he finds himself often seeking for your presence !!

like, he's totally great friends with gwen and pavitr, but oh man he just keeps thinking abt how much fun it is to be with you when he's hanging out with them >_<

on the other hand, he also finds himself only being able to talk to you about his ideas, about how he's totally against miguel's system, about how fucked up he thinks his government is ... bc he immediately noticed how you're always willing to listen and to try to understand his thoughts !! how cute (:

pls don't ever mention how he can be very talkative !!!!! hobie doesn't really notice how he talks a lot more around you and he'd probably feel childish if you ever point it out !!!

no need for anyone to tease him abt his crush on you for him to realize that he has feelings for you. instead, he's well aware of them and he's suspicious abt how you feel about him.

once, you randomly met hobie's gaze but you two suddenly sensed each other (yk that spider thing) and how you just stood there for a moment just like him led him to believe that you must like him too >_<

HOBIE IS THE FIRST TO CONFESS, but it's honestly so sudden !! he literally just blurts out his feelings for you in a random moment !! (it's such a hobie thing to do x))

"isn't it obvious ..." you said to hobie almost whispering as he throws you a confused look before you guided him as your eyes traveled to gwen and miles, who were talking and walking in front of you two. you heard a chuckle coming from hobie before you looked at him again, "i mean, i don't know about gwen ... but miles is so obvious" and it was your turn to chuckle before hobie eventually spoke, "what about me ? is it obvious that i like you ?"

BAM

what the heck hobie brown ??

anyway ... to anyone else including you, he would look totally cool and confident in the moment but hobie would be lying to himself if he pretended that he didn't apprehend your response.

i mean, the guy is truly in love with you so he can be a lil shy yk >_< but you wouldn't know abt it anyway ...

so you two just have this kind of awkward conversation when your brain is still trying to process what's happening ????

"what's obvious ?" "that i like you" "you like me ?" "yeah" "you know, i was saying how miles likes gwen, but not like a friend" "i know" "but you said-" "ay, i said i like you, what about it ?" "what-" "do you like me ?" "yes" "cool" "ok ... cool"

and for the rest of the day you're just ... super awkward with hobie but OH MAN HE'S NOT LETTING YOU DO THAT !!

he's sticking to you like usual, you literally can't run away from him !

after a while, you two talk about your feelings for each other in a more intimate atmosphere, just the two of you hanging out far from the others and everything becomes more clear as you're almost back to your usual self ...

"ay, why are you laughing ?" "i just thought that you wouldn't believe in love" "yeah ... until i was proven wrong ... no but seriously, i just never thought about love" "oh, okay"

i don't think you would call him your boyfriend or whatever, same for him. you two don't really make your couple "official".

BUT hobie wouldn't hesitate and answer yes if anyone asks you two if you two are dating !!! so it's not really a secret, you two simply wouldn't display it, it felt natural to the both of you :p

soulmates !!

#hobie brown x reader #spiderverse x reader #across the spiderverse #hobie brown #marvel x reader #spiderman x reader

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fl3shm4id3n · 1 year

Text

Dₒₚₚₑₗgₐₙgₑᵣₛ

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐝𝐮𝐨 𝐨𝐟 𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐬. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴘʀᴏᴡʟᴇʀ! ᴍɪʟᴇꜱ ᴍᴏʀᴀʟᴇꜱ x ꜰᴇᴍ! ᴠᴇɴᴏᴍ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Tw: you and miles are vigilantes, theft, venom symbiote, mentions of death, mentions of getting shot, Symbiote being a little shit sometimes, murder?

A/N: Since I don't really know much about earth 42 Miles, I just came up with an idea on why he is the Prowler.

Masterlist

The first person to know about your Symbiote was your boyfriend Miles, you knew that he was the one and only Prowler, sure he was a vigilante, but he did more than the police had ever done, it all started when his father died. His dad was a good cop, but sadly he was killed while on a patrol and the police station did nothing, so Miles had decided to take matters into his own hands.

You had no idea how the alien had got to you. One day you just woke up and bam, you had an Symbiote on you. Miles could not believe it, he has seen weird shit, but not this weird. Your Symbiote on the other hand, was a little shit, who was always hungry or would just flat out fuck with both you and Miles for its entertainment.

But as time passed, you and your Symbiote got along well, it would still mess with Miles, but your boyfriend was cool with the creature. Then one night that you were walking home late back to your apartment complex, you nearly got shot by a mugger. He had wanted everything that you had, but refused to give him any of the money Miles had given you, then you heard gunshots.

Except, your body had been consumed by a black liquid, almost similar to a shield, then you felt a lot of anger and all sorts of things going through your body, next thing you new, the guy was dead. Ripped apart on the ally. You went back home straight away, wondering what just happened.

You had bumped into Miles, and basically told him what happened. How you were nearly mugged and you basically killed the guy. Miles wanted to kill the guy himself, but he was already dead. Then that was when your Symbiote had told you both its abilities.

Now this caused interest, you basically had some kind of weapon on you. And that's how you began to help Miles and his Uncle, they both helped train you so that you didn't get your ass kicked, sure you had your Symbiote, but it was good that you knew how to fight. You didn't have to help, but you choose to help both Miles and Aaron. At first your Symbiote wasn't convinced, but once you told it that with the extra money you got, you can get them as much junk food as they wanted, they agreed.

Thanks to you and your Symbiote, you manage to get more money, but majority of the money would go to Miss Morales, she worked hard as a nurse, but she wasn't getting paid enough, you believed that she dissevered the money due to her hard work. Besides Bounties, you also stole from the rich and helped the people from your community. Since no one cared about your people, you and Miles made it your mission to help them as much as possible. Sure it was dirty work, but you didn't care, if this was how to help the community you grew up in, so be it.

You and Miles had been on a mission, you as Venom and him as the Prowler. You had stolen some money from this Rich's guy's home, after you got both your shares, you went to drop it off at the orphanage that was near your apartment complex, afterwards you got a call from Aaron, there was a situation and he needed both of you to see what it was. "What do you think it is? Another bounty?" you asked, your face had been uncovered to be able to speak and look at Miles. "I don't know, but it sounds important. Lets go." That was all he said, then you both hurried back to the hide out.

Once you arrived, you crawled in through the window, then you saw someone tied onto the punching bag while Aaron was messing with some stuff. You wanted to get a better look, so with your spiderlike abilities, you crawled on the celling. As soon as you saw the guy, he looked identical to you boyfriend, except he had his hair in an afro and he was wearing some kind of suit, spider suit in particular. Now you were above the person tied up on the punching bag, then your boyfriend made himself present. You also spotted someone else, tied behind him, when you set your eyes on them, you couldn't believe it, it was you! Except, the fake looked more nice and sweet, very unlike you.

He then got down, while you stayed on the ceiling. Aaron then tossed him one of his gloves in which he caught. He looked very intimidating when he got closer to the imposter. "Your dad is still alive?" he asked, making the imposter respond in confusion. "What?" he asked, making your boyfriend repeat himself. "You father, you said he is still alive." he said, this time the imposter whispered. "Yeah.." he said, making your boyfriend let out a small hum. "Who are you?" he asked, a whole minute passed, then your Miles reveal himself to the other one by removing his mask from his face. Your fake couldn't really see any of what was happening, except hear everything, she could feel how everything was happening all at once.

"I'm Miles Morales, but you.. can call me the Prowler" he said, making the other Miles have a look of shock. "If I don't get home, our dad is going to die-" he tried to reason with him but he was cut off by your Miles. "Your dad" he said coldly, making the other more scared. Then this was when you decided to make yourself present. You slid upside down using your web, now face to face to the imposter Miles. Your face had been covered, so all he could see was your sharp rows of teeth and your wide white eyes, making him even more scared.

You smirked and licked your teeth with your long tongue. "I didn't know you had a twin brother, I thought we didn't keep secret from us Babe" you teased, in your demonic voice. You then got a hold of the other Miles face, lightly pressing your sharp talons on his cheeks, causing him to be even more scared. "He isn't my brother" your boyfriend said. You continued to have a good look at the fake. Impressed on how similar he was to your boyfriend, except he looked more dorky and soft. "W-who are you?" he asked again, still frightened.

Just like your boyfriend, you showed your face to him. This caused him to let out a small gasp. "I'm Y/n L/n" You said then you turned the bag around, now face to face to your other you! Just like Miles, she was terrified, even more terrified than Miles. "But you can call me Venom" you said with a smirk, showing her the fangs that you developed over time. It made her even more scared, you saw how she was shivering by the fear.

Taglist?: @sorryi-mtrash

#miles morales x reader #miles morales x you #miles morales x y/n #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales x you #earth 42 miles morales x y/n #prowler miles morales x venom reader #prowler miles morales x reader #prowler miles x reader #prowler x reader #prowler miles morales x fem reader #female reader #female y/n #venom reader #venom y/n #aphrodite's writing

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clockwayswrites · 11 months

Text

This is why Moku and I are dangerous to each other:

clockways — Today at 2:01 AM

OKAY Danny/Tim where Danny is either ghost king or working for Clockwork or playing Reaper or something showing up to talk to Tim like "MY DUDE, you have got to stop killing so many people, even if it's in the name of good, esp when they're surrounded by rancid ectoplasm"

And this is now the Bats learn about Tim's LOA kill count

Mokulule — Today at 2:12 AM

Heheheh oh yesss

Does Danny show up in the middle of like a supposedly secure location in the middle of a mission?

Like “dude please, I do not need the assassin influx, you have any idea of the trouble you caused killing so many at once?”

Mokulule — Today at 2:19 AM

I’m kinda imagining these new ghosts still following Ra’s Al Ghul fanatically unless Danny can somehow get them rehabilitated and imagine if they found their way to the living world?! Do you want that madman to have a ghost army?

clockways — Today at 2:19 AM

I think a mission or right in the middle of the cave, yeah

and totally, like the pit waters have a Not Good effect on the ghosts so they're even more off than normal I think

Mokulule — Today at 2:22 AM

Okay but I am liking the implication here that Tim has been having this ongoing crusade against Ra’s in the background of everything where he keeps blowing up LOA bases and somehow managing to keep it secret

Here B thought Ra’s was his nemesis, turns out attention had shifted to Tim years ago

clockways — Today at 2:25 AM

Yes, Tim is 100% the Detective now and Ra's keeps being a creepy obsessed mo-fo and Tim just keeps finding ways to blow shit up. if it started at 17 could say Tim is 20, 21 now so they've been at it three years or so

Mokulule — Today at 2:26 AM

And like Danny has had enough, there’s so many of them they have their own realm in the realms and are stirring up trouble trying to find ways back into the living world

clockways — Today at 2:27 AM

Yeeeees They're basically segregated into a specific area of the realms and are still causing shit

Mokulule — Today at 2:28 AM

Maybe they even have their own pseudo pit from gathering rancid ectoplasm and it’s messing up the ecosystem and they’re hurting the blobs that would otherwise be cleaning that shit up

And the pseudo pit is definitely not helping their mental stability

Just trash assassin baby ghosts

clockways — Today at 2:29 AM

LOL Blob ghost sucker fish! yes xD

Mokulule — Today at 2:29 AM

They need rehabilitation and a bath and like it’s really not helping that Tim keeps sending more

clockways — Today at 2:30 AM

Every time Danny starts to get a handle on it BAM more assassins and more bad juice

And then Danny has to ramp up the blob ghost breeding again

Mokulule — Today at 2:31 AM

Yeah and he can only handle a couple at a time and he also has to make sure they don’t go back once he’s gotten them out and it’s just a mess

clockways — Today at 2:31 AM

OKAY OKAY WAIT. Danny makes an appointment with Tim as Wayne CEO

Shows up in his human guise with Tim as just Tim which sets up all sorts of alarms

Mokulule — Today at 2:32 AM

Ahahahaha yesss this is like a corporate problem 😂

clockways — Today at 2:32 AM

How is this normal seeming dude associated with the LOA?? What does he know about Tim??? Who is he???

Dany is just :) Look at me, using the proper channels!

Mokulule — Today at 2:32 AM

Danny is trying to go about this the right way official like

🤝

clockways — Today at 2:32 AM

🤝

Mokulule — Today at 2:33 AM

😂 everyone is very suspicious of Danny Fenton

clockways — Today at 2:34 AM

It doesn't help that he has officially been missing in the living realm since he graduated high sch9ool

(someone ((lancer)) finally noticed and reported him)

Mokulule — Today at 2:34 AM

Oh yeah even more suspicious for potential LOA connection

The fact that it was an old teacher and not his parents reporting him missing despite having graduated high school is also concerning

clockways — Today at 2:37 AM

mmmmy hum just all these red flags and it's very frustrating for the whole batfam.

Mokulule — Today at 2:38 AM

And like the guy looks like Danny Fenton, but is he really? He’s somehow very careful about not leaving prints and DNA where he goes, they’ve not been able to get any surefire confirmation this is indeed Danny Fenton

clockways — Today at 2:38 AM

AND THEN there is a gala that Ra's also shows up to... as does Danny. Just... to keep an eye on things. (He's worried about ghost assassins.)

But Tim sees Danny out of the corner of his eye and !!!

(Danny just went intangible through the wall, he's totally not on the guest list)

Mokulule — Today at 2:40 AM

Oh yes, he’s dressed up well enough, he’s had to learn that as a king and fits in just fine

clockways — Today at 2:42 AM

Tim can't help but recognize that Danny is handsome.

Mokulule — Today at 2:43 AM

Tim thinking he’s got two enemies at the gala now - has Tim told the other bats about Danny or is he hiding that? Cause then Tim might think the others have Ra’s handled so he has to handle Danny- and yeah okay he is very handsome, now that he’s not busy internally freaking out over what he knows (which he was at the first meeting)

clockways — Today at 2:45 AM

Depends how much the Bats know about Ra's interest in Tim. If they're aware at all, he's told them I think since Danny know is a threat to them all. 🤔

But I do still see him handling Danny either way since Danny hasn't met the family- keep things separate until there is no doubt.

Mokulule — Today at 2:46 AM

Okay but Clock, has Danny in his attempt at going through proper channels and requesting a meeting completely forgotten to mention the word ghost since he thought that was implied when he said the dead assassins were a problem for him?

clockways — Today at 2:47 AM

100%

He is still a disaster at explaining things

And look Tim is damn cute, Danny was a little flustered.

Mokulule — Today at 2:48 AM

So when Tim asks him what he’s doing there at the gala and he tells him that he’s keeping an eye out for assassins - Tim maybe takes that as a threat - like Tim thinks they’re playing 5D mental chess here, but Danny is a disaster and is not even playing chess

clockways — Today at 2:49 AM

!! OH Added bonus, Danny's etiquette training is all be like Dorathea and Pandora and etc, so he has a rather unusual speach pattern in King Mode which makes him seem that maybe common english isn't his first language but if he is Danny Fenton that doesn't track....

Mokulule — Today at 2:50 AM

Oh yesss good

clockways — Today at 2:50 AM

They have to end up on the dance floor, of course.

Mokulule — Today at 2:50 AM

Of course

Obligatory

clockways — Today at 2:51 AM

Danny is just all :) I'm putting my training to use! This is going so well!

Tim >:| What is this man playing at...

Mokulule — Today at 2:51 AM

Yes XD

clockways — Today at 2:52 AM

Ra's takes an instant hatred to Danny because he is Taking Tim's Attention!

Mokulule — Today at 2:52 AM

Eventual reveal is going to be hilarious

clockways — Today at 2:52 AM

Which makes Tim think that Ra's and Danny are old enemies

Mokulule — Today at 2:52 AM

Oh yess hahaha Ra’s now trying to have Danny killed

Now Danny is having to deal with both living and dead assassins he is not amused, but if he gets them away from Ra’s in the living world that will help some problems down the line. Just every assassin Ra’s sends disappears and no bodies turn up

clockways — Today at 2:55 AM

It's driving both Tim and Ra's mad

Things maybe come to a head when some of the ghost assassins try to go after Tim and Phantom shows up?

Mokulule — Today at 2:57 AM

XD Does Tim realize this is Danny or does he now think there’s another player?

Are they aware of Phantom as a ghost hero?

clockways — Today at 2:59 AM

HUM so I kinda want to say Tim does put 2 + 2 together- at least at some point. Maybe just because Phantom's new outfit mirrors what his formal clothing had. Not like perfectly but there's a lot of parallels in color and things

Maybe not till he's safe and- if they know of Phantom- they're back somewhere secure

Tim just holding an ice pack to his head jolting up and pointing a finger at Phantom "You're Danny!!!"

Phantom: Uh, yeah??? Of course I am?

And then @mokulule got distracted by fic and I went to sleep cause it was 3am. But my can we go from 'random statement' to 60% of a fic outline in no time. (Not it.)

#how promptous #dp x dc #brain dead #dead tired #Tim Drake/Danny Fenton

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qvrcll · 11 months

Note

Hi! So I love your blog and I have a request if you're up for it!

So imagine Vendetta!Leon or ID!Leon with a younger, Rookie D.S.O agent. So the reader is learning about what it takes to be an agent and they are skilled but a little reckless. The reader and Leon end up going on a mission together and something happens to where the reader does something risky/reckless to save Leon and afterwards while Leon is patching them up he's also scolding them for putting themselves into a dangerous situation...

I just thought it was a cute idea and I adore your blog so obviously no pressure and thank you regardless! :)

change

summary: training to be a d.s.o agent has its perks and its fair share of dangers, and who would know that best other than the acclaimed leon s. kennedy? former rookie cop turned myth, you’re troubled as you try to not question your worth to your duty — to him.

warnings: intense violent imagery, d.s.o. agent reader, talk of death / loss, talk of wounds / stabbing, weapons mentioned, angst (comfort i swear!!!!!!!), written with infinite darkness ! leon in mind

a/n: bam stop using deftones songs as titles FAILED. and hello??? ur mind??? revolutionary. but thank u so much for the request!! i did make it more angsty than intended 😭 but happy ending i swear !! this is just a general disclaimer, but i’m trying my best to get as many requests done as possible, but finding myself easily burnt out, so please bare with me if i take some time to get these pieces out!! enjoy :-)

word count: 3.5k+ (help)

You’re well put together — inundated at the seams and bursting in the areas that made you an excelling recruit, something of a common place practice when one gets appointed to a station as alpine as the D.S.O.

It’s gruelling at first. The training, not the people — the people here offer you awkward but veritable grins, cloying pats on the head when you’d surpassed a notable fix in your inculcation, maybe even conversation in places you’d expect hard worn expressions, bumps of the shoulders, a lack of acquiescence for a new comer such as you.

“Turns out, there’s a new donut place opening in the city” someone speaks through a mouthful of food, grinning when admonished by their peer. They look at you with tired yet cordial won eyes, something like a respite in comparison to the gruelling training and pains you endure in staple hours.

You laugh, craning backwards, replying “Really? Wanna go sometime?”

And they teem, sheen with surety as you set a date. The date passes and you’ve got your fridge brimmed with donuts — pastel, sugar coated and chockfull of profuse fillings.

You’re home. You’re staring at your laptop. The device whirrs with effort, the screen fulgent with simulated light as block words stare back at you — MULTIPLE KILLED IN GOVERNMENT ORDAINED PROJECT. SEVERAL INJURED.

The next day, you press your lips together and wait for the space ahead to be filled with a familiar face, some day old blistering talk about donut shops and parties and mandated leaves.

No one comes. You chew your bread in wanton silence.

And your days blur as usual — your attitude is unparalleled. You give yourself the credit for coarsening against such losses, of confidants who offered you their time and remaining nuance of sentience. You don’t, however, congeal like they do. You do not die or recoup.

You move senselessly and so do the days.

It’s several months later, when you’ve gathered yourself in the training room, greased with sweat and vigour, when you meet him.

Leon S. Kennedy, in the flesh.

There’s talk of him in the corridors, rumours of his barely capricious resolve and even more so of his loyalty to the D.S.O. Of his habitual reclusiveness, ordained leaves and near blank appearances.

He’s almost a myth.

Still, you’re real and working and need to cavort around your training till your muscles bleed and chalk up with pain that marks enough effort for the night — you do not want to stay a rookie forever. There’s a insecurity underscored in your brain somewhere, in bright red lines and despite the sweat of your skill in your hands, but you decide to delineate it for tonight. Try to focus on the knotty feel of the compress against your knuckles as you strengthen your feet, begin to get into a stance most up to par, a gracing thought of ‘please don’t break my bones’ pressed into the bean bag before—

“Hello?”

The addition of another voice, besides the earsplitting one in your mind, makes you falter. Makes you lose your footing and touch the target in front of you, rather than skirting it with a hard worn touch — the sight would’ve made you chuckle on a normal day. But today was not normal, it was marked with a accent of irresolutions. So you swivel on your feet, baring your teeth like the caitiff the D.S.O had disillusioned everyone into being. The pretence doesn’t fool anyone, not even yourself, but you give it a try.

And maybe you give yourself some credit, for stoking it up to the myth, the caricature of duty himself, Leon Kennedy. In the flesh, complexion enervated in his well earned stack of muscle, that seemed to be garbed with a leather jacket. Jeans.

How… normal.

You lose tension in your muscles. Ditch the shout in your brows. Abandon the faux, heavy lined bellicosity in your belly for curiosity. Some guilt and embarrassment, too.

“Leon S. Kennedy?” you gasp, feel the air hit your tongue. The room grows a faltering few degrees hotter, and some part of you is convinced you’ll sink into the floor in a matter of minutes.

But Leon offers you one of his complimentary smiles that scream business. His hands are discarded in the wide sinews of his jeans, where they are distracted and nonplussed with the goal of hurting the material with diverted fingers. Yet you linger ahead of him, visibly sweaty and awkward, and it blunders his heart with some peace that you’re biding that same level of awkwardness.

“In the flesh,” he jokes, but the room is too small, too dark to determine tone. To determine the weight of his words or his presence. You still find sentience in you to laugh, snort even, and it makes the air between a lot more genuine, “I’ve come to discuss something here with you.”

“With me?” you croak, not wanting to sound delirious but inevitably falling for the trap — what did the Leon Kennedy want to do with a single recruit that is you? Skilled, yes, but sharing the innumerable roster of missions as him? Not a chance. Still, you grab a towel and a bottle of water, finding rhythm in your step as you talk alongside him to the exit.

Slogging be damned.

He offers a small nod, resigned in a way that made sense to the both of you, “We’re to be assigned in a collaborative project. A mission, if you will,” he opens the door, allows you to step past the threshold first and doesn’t miss the way you flesh out with a terrible blush as you skitter ahead, “Nothing too out of the ordinary for agents like you and me. Just a simple clear up.”

But we are nothing alike, you want to ink the air with the words. And some part of you stiffens as you hear the intractable comparison. Still, you’re curious above all things else and hear him out — not that I can refuse, you add mentally. Scribble out with imaginable red ink.

“When will it be?” you ask, feet jittery and muscles still sheening.

“A month from now” he confirmes. You work to notice the exigent lines of wear and tear on his face, the follow of a stubble beginning to thread against his chin and jaw. The sharpness giving way to kindness in his eyes as he looks at you.

Oh god, he’s looking at you.

“I see,” you say, gaze falling to the gravel and spit of stone as you corner the exit. As the wind hits your skin, you’re pathetically assuming a shiver. You hope Leon isn’t as perceptive as the rumours pin him to be, but you never truly get anywhere with that wish — he places a warm, kind hand on your shoulder, “You’re freezing.”

“Yeah I should probably—“

“Get back?”

“Home, yeah.”

And an awkward, painfully annoying silence courses the space between you two — between you and this acclaimed proxy you barely knew prior to these graceless seconds. The better part of you ushers the thought away and the worse part of you is antsy to prove something — anything.

“Get home safe…” he offers some semblance of a tight lipped smile, again as reclusive as he can get. His back is turned to you, departing, and you’re pulled in the other direction by your feet, when you suddenly turn around.

He’s gone already.

The month beneath his guidance is as you expect it — resilient and tough on the flesh. He manoeuvres you in ways you’d never have begun to correct yourself (“Lift the end of your arms here, instead of down here.”)

He presses feeling and rigour to his praise (“That’s it — you got it. Good job — now give me 20 more.”)

He holds you back from splintering push forwards, from the bridge between you and your apex. Holds a hand against your wet shoulder to shoulder your eagerness (“Woah, woah — don’t get too ahead of yourself.”)

You make it known of your gratefulness. You buy takeout and share it on the stairs. You communicate your worries and walk out free of them.

You also hate him for rubbing raw of your potential. You hate him for the wounded look in his eyes when you falter. You hate him for the itch in his fingers when you push yourself some more.

But you keep that one for the shadows. Don’t make it known. Hide it behind falsity.

You share takeout on the stairs again.

The night before the assignment couldn’t be more gruelling.

You’re welcome by the sheets, yet find no recluse in them, as you twist and turn as the hours come. Your feet are stretched and throbbing with hurt from the range of pushing exercises from the day before, your fingers curling with effort only.

And your head is plagued. Swimming, bathed, with those reticent thoughts. Those same block letters that spoke back to you, flagged the death of thousands you knew from passing glances to remembered conversations.

You turn on your side, try to flush the thought away. But they come back with vigour, with spit.

You knew them.

You’d eaten with them.

You’ll die just the same.

Fuck this.

Your feet find the cold, hard-wood floors immediately. They’re a ridged comparison to the heat of the sheets, but a blistering reminder of what’s to come tomorrow. You pace your apartment, crowd your brain with tasks, busy your hands, till the sun flits past the clouds like routine.

And with your heart in your throat, you ready yourself to the chin, gripping yourself with the promise of doing what you must to euchre death on its own doorstep — both for you and Leon.

The day arrives with a quick start. You’re deployed in a vehicular that is smaller than anticipated, holding your fears in your hands with cupped palms. Leon sits beside you, eyes vacant of anything palpable. You’d talked once, but that’s all of what either of you offered each other up till now — now, it’s you and your fears, cut-throat and fusty, ahead of you.

A thought of your friend passes your mind.

A thought of the donut shop.

A thought of the bottom of your coffee cup.

A thought of the post-mortem images. Of the flesh. The blood. The time. The place.

“Remember,” Leon cards you out of your worst, thoughts crumbling against themselves as you swivel to glance at him, “on me at all times. No sudden moves. Got it?”

He is far more profound here, the spitting image of the rumours materialised into the skin of a battle worn agent — his tone is pebbly, no semblance of that night’s patience in it anymore.

He’s in it for good. And you should be too.

“Got it,” you reply when the seconds flow too far. He nods back, curt and sharp and you want to talk him up. Want to offer your share of strategies. Want to card through the wounds on your arm and how to avoid the bloody things. Want to loop your fingers through half of his experience and not want to set him back.

But it was never that simple. And the ride is just as silent.

Two hours in and you’re stationed against crumbling brick, jagged stone, MK-45 gripped tightly in your hands. The smell of rot, mycelium, abused your lungs. Makes you stagger forward and hold yourself by the seams like flesh on plying bone.

But when you look at Leon, he’s everything but as discomposed as you — his eyebrows are tightly drawn, a shadow to his eyes that wasn’t there prior. There’s a bite in his step, in the way he holds his weapon, in the way he surveys the area.

Get yourself together, you think.

Within minutes, you force yourself to straighten your back, swallow back the burdensome bile stretching against your mouth and prime yourself to the futile smell of the dead at every carrefour you cross.

“Ahead,” Leon speaks and clings to your attention.

You look ahead, noticing an array of groaning zombies clawing at a car that seemed to have initiated its alarm. The smell is amplified by the rub of petrol curdling out of the car (from the repeated clash of the zombies, you’re sure) and you frustrate yourself into not gagging — think ‘fucking hell, I really hate these things.’

“You go to the left, I’ll take the right,” Leon whispers and you realise his motive.

Mutual accomplishment built on the precipice of trust.

Still, he looks at you like he’ll splinter without a response.

Like he relies on this circulation, no matter how damning, how short. His eyes scream ‘don’t you dare do anything stupid’ and you choose to blur it into something nonsensical, a thought of ‘it’s common procedure, a set of instructions he needs to hand feed me’, choosing to ignore the obvious side of things, the bleeding flush of his words, the trepidation nailing every withering seam of his body.

He’d grown to interpret you as more than just a rookie, someone capable of vigour and strength of the winning.

He needed you alive.

You needed him to look at you other than a wounded animal.

You offer him some little nod, feet hurrying up to the fluster of zombies against the few cars gathered there — as you get close, you can see the vegetation cram against the side walk, the stink of flesh against the windshield.

But you’re skilled, not stupid.

Your weapon purrs with warmth in your hand as you pin down the first vier, working your second round of bullets with the other five you’ve attracted— their fractured groans are animalistic, orotund where human capability shouldn’t be.

But you’re twice the work than they ever are.

“Fuck,” you whisper, realising close proximity doesn’t hold up with your choice of weapon — so, working against better judgement, you retrieve your knife by the hilt, scoring it against the reeking flesh of the first two. You quickly gain footing and stab the other two point black in the skull, feeling the vibrating collusion fill the blade.

And you’re close — you feel it. With another plow, the last of them falters to the floor with a wet thump. Blood pools at your feet, curdles against the material of your boot as you curl a hand against your hip in weariness.

And yet, you have half the nerve to concern yourself with Leon.

As you turn, you quickly see that he is struggling. He’s cornered, stuck between a stretch of the building that allows a swift gateway of those creatures to buckle within arm’s reach. And there’s little solace as you learn the fact, as you ready your weapon — you’re aiming before you can think, firing before you can feel.

Leon spots you, as his jaw goes slack.

His voice is swollen with disbelief and you’re sure you catch the words “get out of here!” but you’re moving on the pure pump of your blood, of the stretch of muscle and skill in your body. Two, three, four enemies crumble at the bite of your bullet and your fingers sink against the sting of gunmetal.

Memorise the step of their movements.

Formulate an opening.

Ignore Leon’s snare and his warnings and the way his arms curl around his weapon and the look in his eye and the fickle hope in them and the way they look at you like you’re something wounded.

Ignore the way a grunt sounds in your ear, a pale and cleft palm clinching your shoulder like an orifice — and finally, you realise, Leon had been right.

The zombie is quick to remind you of your mortality — it swings you to the side with it’s astounding asperity, frightens you with the dexterity of its bones as it makes quick work of the distance between you. It’s teeth stitch against cold bone, blood and meat between the gaps.

You gasp out a hoarse cry — your weapon is out of reach and your arm stings with a burn, a swelter. Your leg feels numb and you’re sure you’ve caught it on something, and you’re convinced you’ll be half mauled to death, when suddenly,

“Shit!”

Leon rattles through the zombie towering you, sears it with a knife — it falls atop you like meat and you shove it off with awfully numb hands. You’re barely catching respite as Leon hauls you above his shoulder as he runs to some place else, and the world quickly melts beneath your eyelids.

The next time you’re conscious, it’s much quieter.

There’s a dripping noise from your right — you try to play with that recurring sound till you’ve figured your bearings, but the throb in your head is searing. Your leg jumps with a pain so awful you choke a cry when you’re all opened eyed and slack jaw, and you catch sight of Leon in front of you, balancing your leg atop his lap for inspection.

“L-Leon?” you gasp, feel the burn of your throat. You’ve said nothing but he quickly hands you a water bottle, and you allow yourself the contents almost immediately — “Where are we…?”

“A few ways off the target location. Recuperating,” he answers, too quick, too harsh. You wince, both from his demeanour and the growing image of your maimed leg — the skin is dented with much blood, the flesh peeling apart with ease and the pain hits you like a train. His fingers are trembling and spat with your blood, moseying around the quiver of the wound.

And you can’t figure out where your pain ends and where his anger begins.

For one, there’s some grip to his movement, in the way he bandages the broken flesh of your leg. The way he swats your hand away when you go to dictate the amount of hurt it would bring.

Only then does he look up and your breath hitches — his eyes are red rimmed, mouth set like hard stone in a frown and his jaw sharp, blistering to a furious degree.

“I’m sorry—“

“Are you? Because you would’ve been dead without me having been there” he spits out, lashing against your apologetic words. You press your lips together, a bitter feeling fermenting in every space your framework can produce.

“I said I’m sorry Leon.”

“Will that fix your wound?” He grates and his voice sounds like a threat. It worries you. It angers you. Its rends you like glass, cuts you like a skiver.

“Maybe if you didn’t look at me like a fucking wounded animal, I would quit taking my chances at dying” you force out, tone through clattering teeth when his fingers pause over that delicate and awfully repulsive spot on your leg.

“What?”

“Oh, please don’t play pretend with me Leon,” it’s your turn to hit the brakes, “It’s that look you give me — like I’m some backwater D.S.O rookie here to drag you through glass. Like—Like I’m here to get myself killed.”

You pause, breath cut short with an unsatisfactory cry as you throw your head back from the gushing pain from the wound. You crack open a weary eye to spot his movements have resumed, but his jaw is quivering, jagged, his eyes unfocused and his hair in his face.

Shit, shit, shit — I’ve really done it now.

“Wait, Leon—“

“Is that what you think this is?”

You blink — his fingers are on the ground beside your hips, his eyes flooded with disbelief. Much like earlier, only this time, it’s counterpart being woe instead of anger of disappointment. He lifts his head, cradles the anguish in his eyes with a tattered sigh and you realise, oh. You had it all wrong.

“That you’re just some agent I don’t care about?” he’s close, somehow, “that—that I care for you out of duty?” closer, now, with his breath on your neck, on your face, in your ear, “That I don’t want you gone so soon because I only tolerate you? Not because—I like you?”

Your anger drops its futile act.

“What?” you whisper, because you’re so beguiled that it’s a trick. A trick from the pump of adrenaline in you, from the fear. The sweat. But he’s looking into you, at you, and his stare is not sympathetic. It stinks of love and admiration and truth and some close call of fear.

“I’m saying that I like you.”

There’s a few moments of clouded breath. You’ve never done this before — never held this song and dance of emotion between another and certainly not at a time like this, but god, Leon looks at you like you’re something to be worshipped, not admonished like the wounded thing that you are.

He looks at you like hope.

Like love and love and love.

And you’ve never appreciated the stench of rot on you or another, and you’ve never appreciated distractions. But the burn of his lips against yours is delicious and swirling with something addictive when you meet him with nothing but rigour — he kisses you back like he’s meant to, like he’s going to run out of you if he doesn’t.

And when you pull away, groaning as your leg spasms with hurt, you smile at him gently, curve a laugh from your overworked lungs.

“Buy me dinner first, Kennedy.”

“Kennedy?”

“Would you prefer Scott?”

“God, you’re awful.”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon x reader #resident evil x reader #resident evil x you #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon kennedy drabble #leon kennedy fic

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