#intel division
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— Explaining Konohagakure’s Intelligence Department from Naruto to Boruto:
The information presented in this post has been checked and revised. My aim is not to hate or to discredit any of the characters mentioned. Please read about me for further information.
This post will contain evidence in picture format directly from the manga Naruto (1999 - 2014) created by Masashi Kishimoto and published by Shueisha in 1999. I will also use information from the official databooks.
This informative post will explain the role and utility of the Intelligence Division from its debut in Naruto to its development and role in Boruto. I will use information present in the novels and the Boruto manga because it includes character development within canon compliance.
This meta is crossposted in AO3.
I give my permission to use or share this thread with informative purposes as long as you credit me.
I do not support the anime or the work of Studio Pierrot in regards to Naruto because I consider it over exaggerated and beyond biased. Furthermore, these fillers include some actions that these characters are unable to do in the canon according to official sources and they also generate unnecessary debate.
This meta does contain anime scenes from Boruto because it is a monthly manga draft that depends heavily on anime for context.
Please, take this into consideration.
This meta will include a small discussion from my own point of view about the Intelligence Division and its members. There will be strong criticism and complaints, comparisons with other characters, previous leaders, etc.
Important: I will also refer to this Konoha branch as the “Intelligence Department” to distinguish it from the Allied Shinobi Forces Intelligence Division. This post includes a small discussion from my own point of view about the Intelligence Department and its members. There will be criticism and complaints, comparisons with other characters, previous leaders, etc.
The Intelligence Division (情報部, Jōhō-Bu ), or (in this meta) Intelligence Department (情報部 門 , Jōhō-Butmon ) is an organization formed by shinobi in charge of extracting information from people via interrogation, gather intel or study material that could be useful for the village or the security of the village. The Intelligence Department is part of the “Special Forces”, a group of other major village branches separate from the three main departmental divisions of Konohagakure.
This branch is currently headed by Ibiki Morino as department head, hailed as a master of interrogation and t0rtur3 in many countries. He is officially known as the “Leader of the Intelligence Division” (木ノ葉隠れ情報部のリーダー, Konoha kakure jōhō-bu no rīdā ) although the translation says "Intelligence Team", versions change depending on who translates.
Ibiki Morino according to the fourth databook.
HISTORY:
It is unknown for how long this team has existed, but the Intelligence Division/Department officially debuted in chapter 418 of Naruto, at least the organization and its headquarters. The concept of interrogation, t0rtur3 or extracting information directly from a target debuted with the introduction of Ibiki Morino as the Captain of the T0rtur3 and Interrogation Force (拷問・尋問部隊隊長 Gōmon jinmon butai no taichō ).
Ibiki's early description as the "Captain of T&I before the Intelligence Department was created.
I want to add that the reason why Ibiki was never stated to be the Head of the Intelligence Department was because it had never appeared until chapter 418, so the existence of this Konoha division was unknown. In the fourth databook entry shown above, this division also debuts and Ibiki's profile reveals that he is in charge of this organization and its multiple units. In previous entries like the first databook, he was only described as Captain of T&I because it was the only unit that existed.
Debut of the Intelligence Department in chapter 418 contrasted with the first character description of Ibiki in the first databook ch. 1-119.
The organization, division or department and all of their subdivisions wear their own unique uniforms. Members of interrogation teams wear a dark gray two piece uniform and a black belt, while other teams prefer other uniforms.
Some members of the Intelligence Department wear uniforms to distinguish themselves from other departments or regular shinobi in a similar way the Medical Department’s Medical Corps wear their standard coats and medical uniforms.
Naruto:
As soon as Ibiki Morino was introduced in the story, we learn about Konoha’s T0rtur3 & Interrogation Force and their crowded unit; as well as getting a general idea about the presence of a team trained to interrogate targets using various methods.
However, the existence and the work of the Intelligence Division would not be known until chapter 418 of the manga. Everything else mentioned before was only the name of the team, but not their work.
During the era of the Fifth Hokage, the Intelligence Division was gathered in a building located in an unknown part of Konoha. The headquarters have different rooms dedicated to the different labor each of the teams carry out.
For example, there are rooms for regular interrogation (in the picture reconstructed after the Pain Arc), rooms for mental interrogation with special machinery, libraries for decoding teams, medical rooms for autopsies and a prison.
T&I Team room, Analysis Team room, Cryptanalysis Team room and Autopsy Room.
The Intelligence Department can be divided into the following teams:
Konoha T0rtur3 and Interrogation Force (木ノ葉暗部拷問・尋問部隊, Konoha Anbu Gomon/Jinmon-butai): Captained by Ibiki Morino (拷問・尋問部隊隊長, Gōmon jinmon-butai taichō), their mission is to gain information from the enemy by t0rturing them or exposing them to arduous interrogation methods. They often work together with ANBU. Some members include Mozuku, Ibiki Morino and chūnin.
Analysis Team (解析班, Kaiseki-han): Previously led by Inoichi Yamanaka. Their role was to take over if the T0rture and Interrogation Force was unsuccessful. Using secret techniques to read the mind, they obtain information directly from the target’s memories. Some members include Mawashi Dokuraku, Kumadori, Tonbo Tobitake and Aoba Yamashiro.
(Medical) Analysis Team: Composed by members of the Medical Department such as Shizune, Sakura Haruno or Ranka, they perform autopsies to obtain information from deceased individuals such as a Pain or White Zetsu. (The name of this team is not Medical Analysis Team but they are included inside the regular Analysis Team. I came up with the distinction to make this list easier.)
Cryptanalysis Team (暗号解読班, Angōkaidoku-han): They are a special team with the mission of decoding secret passwords or messages led by Mitoku. Some members include Shiho, Mitoku and Yurika, as well as Shikamaru Nara and Sakura Haruno occasionally.
Konoha Aviary: Although it is unknown if they belong to the Intelligence Division, this team collaborates with the Cryptanalysis Team. They receive messages from other villages by hawk, often encrypted or containing secret messages.
T&I Team, Analysis Team, Konoha Aviary, Cryptanalysis Team and (Medical) Analysis Team as depicted in the anime.
Other official teams dedicated to gather intelligence but not part of the Intelligence Division officially include:
Astronomical Team: Introduced in The Last: Naruto the Movie, their role is to study the moon and other celestial bodies and search for anomalies that could threaten Konohagakure.
Analytical Study (解読班, Kaidoku-han): Founded by Naruto Uzumaki when he became Hokage, this new team is located in the Hokage Residence. It debuted in Boruto: Naruto the Movie. They are focused on deciphering ancient codes such as Ōtsutsuki scrolls and similar objects. According to Kakashi Hatake in Kakashi Retsuden, some members include Shikamaru Nara, Shizune and Sakura Uchiha.
I want to add that the Analytical Study is something Ūkyo Kodachi wrote in the novel that Naruto created out of the blue, without reason. It seems like he didn't know about he existence of the Cryptanalysis Team, a team dedicated to deciphering any kind of code. He must have not read the manga, although this team appears in the movie too, its origins aren't revealed. In Kakashi Retsuden, the writer Jun Esaka reminds us that Shikamaru Nara and Sakura Haruno/Uchiha are part of the Cryptanalysis Team not the Analytical Study. However, since the Intelligence Department make no more appearances in Boruto, I imagine this is the new Analytical Study Team.
Astronomy Team and Analytical Study in both movies.
Blank Period:
The next time the Intelligence Division or any of its units appear is mainly Sakura Hiden and Sasuke Shinden novels.
Six months after Kaguya Ōtsutsuki was defeated, Sakura Haruno started preparations to create a Therapy Center, a mental health branch for children who are indirect victims of the shinobi world. Two years later, Sakura Haruno successfully founded the first ever mental healthcare institution inside Konoha Hospital ; and other villages like Sunagakure also followed her example.
However, a former member of ANBU Root, Kido Tsumiki, was plotting against Konoha and undergoing private experiments using Sasuke Uchiha and Naruto Uzumaki’s DNA in order to replicate Sharingan and Kurama’s powers.
At the end of the novel, when Sakura defeats Kido, he is taken to the Intelligence Department in order to be interrogated by Ibiki Morino.
Sakura Hiden chapter 8.
Months later, a series of missing Konoha shinobi attacked the village controlled by a jutsu that made their bodies explode. In order to unmask the perpetrator, Aoba Yamashiro, a veteran from the Analysis Team and Inoichi’s successor, read the mind of one of the targets that had been previously incapacitated and was being treated by Sakura. He delved into minds two times successfully.
Aoba Yamashiro becomes the official successor of Inoichi Yamanaka.
He is also the only character that has been shown to be able to reads minds without the aid of the Analysis Team's machine and be successful. He interrogated Kisame Hoshigaki until he broke the jutsu by hurting himself.
Aoba performing Psycho Mind Transmission without a device, a feat only achieved by him.
Boruto:
By the era of the Seventh Hokage, the Intelligence Division does not make any direct appearance, just mentions of one of its units and one of its members, or arbitrary work done by people that did not used to be among their ranks.
At the beginning of the manga, it is revealed that Ibiki Morino does still conduct interrogations, however, this time he is the only one present from the former T&I, now replaced by the help of Sai Yamanaka.
The remains of the Intelligence Department.
In the anime, Ibiki debuts with a similar introduction as in Naruto, probably a rendition to his imposing aura and, since it was his anime debut, an honor to his Naruto debut and to the original manga. He introduces himself as the Captain of T&I, just like in chapter 43.
Ibiki's anime debut.
That is the only “relevant” mention and hint about the Intelligence Department in Boruto. There is one more mention about another one of its units in loose episodes but only in the anime, so they do not tie to the original story and can be dismissed.
Although the Analysis Team no longer exists within the story as a whole, there are characters that fulfill the task of mental interrogation in anime arcs such as Ino Yamanaka in episode 72 and Sasuke Uchiha in episode 151 who after normal interrogation later proceeds to read Shojoji's mind, but they do this as a side ability rather than as part of a team. Characters from the original Analysis Team such as Mawashi, Kumadori, Tonbo and Aoba are no longer in the story.
Ino Yamanaka preparing for mind probing. The interrogators using the help of Sasuke Uchiha's Sharingan for interrogation.
How does the Intelligence Department work and what is their role?
Gathering information from targets in order to learn their motives or their people behind their organization.
DISCUSSION:
How important is the Intelligence Department?
The Intelligence Department is of very little use in Boruto compared to Naruto. However, being written out of the story does not equal being less important.
Like many other teams, the Intelligence Department debuted fairly late into the story, only being fully introduced in the Pain Arc, but it is considered one of the major side supporting branches after the main tree: Shinobi forces, Medical Department/Corps and ANBU. The best example of their usefulness is interrogating Yūdachi from Amegakure, conducting the examination of the Animal Path in order to determine Pain’s Powers and deciphering Jiraiya’s message; all during the Pain Arc.
The equivalent of the Intelligence Department at the time of the battle against Madara and Obito Uchiha, the Intelligence Division (going by the same name as in Konoha), was also one of the most important support systems during the conflict.
Their function was changed during the global conflict.
Rather than collecting intel from enemies, the Intelligence Division would receive messages from the several teams scattered across the battlefield such as the emergence of a new enemy, casualties, infiltrations, etc. They would also relay battle tactics from the Chief Strategist to the different divisions.
One of the most important moves of this division was when the White Zetsu infiltrated the Logistical Support & Medical Division in order to take down the main battle support and their most skilled medics, as well as other battle divisions. It was thanks to Sakura Haruno, who defeated the White Zetsu and figured out their plans, and later contacted the Intelligence Division in order to alert the rest of the divisions, saving everyone from death as early as the first days.
Sakura Haruno defeats White Zetsu and relayed the intel to the Intelligence Division.
The Intelligence Division would receive and relay, not search info for themselves. Like a Communication Division with multiple members and machinery.
The difference between the Intelligence Division and Konoha's Intelligence Department.
The current problem of the Intelligence Department?
In Boruto, the Intelligence Department suffered a downgrade compared to previous appearances, so vast that the notion of the branch has almost completely disappeared. It is now down to one single member left and filler interrogations that serve no purpose to the real plot.
The downgrade is in relevance and build-up.
We used to see Ibiki Morino, Aoba Yamashiro or Inoichi Yamanaka performing interrogations on targets who would invade Konoha or trespass Konoha with dubious intentions.
The role of an interrogator has been simplified, with only brief mentions of Ibiki performing said interrogation sessions off-screen. Nothing of what we used to see in the past, but, of course, in peaceful times or times when the information about the enemy is on full display, there is no need for interrogators or intel gathering. There are other teams and individuals in Konoha, such as ANBU or Sasuke Uchiha, collecting information.
On the other hand, when it is needed or should be used, it is not.
The Intelligence Department in itself is not a failure, nor do their ranks fail at doing their job or need other people to step in for them. The failure comes with the writing quality in the sequel compared to Naruto, rather than the organization itself.
Could they be redeemed?
The Intelligence Division does not need to be redeemed or rewritten, the problem lies in how they are projected in the sequel.
Their functionality is perfect, at least in Naruto. They have the world’s best interrogator as their leader, several members of the staff and many specialized units.
Some of the things they could do are:
Interrogate enemies and former Kara outers such as Amado Sanzu, so before letting them do as they please they would go through Ibiki Morino, or Aoba Yamashiro if needed, first.
Recuperate bodies of the enemy if possible in order to be studied by the Medical Analysis Team and other medics such as Sakura Uchiha and Shizune.
Considering Konoha is the most powerful shinobi village and the Intelligence Department has resources, the usage of their staff leaves much to be desired in the script.
Note: The Fourth Shinobi World W4r has been replaced by global conflict to avoid mature content flags. T0rtur3 has also been censored.
#intelligence division#intelligence department#intel division#intel department#ibiki morino#aoba yamashiro#konohagakure#konoha#t&i#analysis team#cryptanalysis team#analysis unit#cryptanalysis unit#naruto meta#my naruto post#my publication#naruto analysis#mentions of:#shikamaru nara#sakura haruno#yamanaka members#inoichi yamanaka#naruto#boruto#naruto shippuden
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I gotta hold myself accountable to when I'm making content that's not really based on canon at all, so I remain self aware & whatnot, but I still occasionally think things like "but blurr should be arcee's number one fan 🥺.... bc i said so........"
#🐝 could you repeat the last part? 🟦#i make a good effort to stay self aware bc i dont want to lost in fanon delusion. i cant let that happen to me#also it would be hypocritical of me to go ''i dislike this fanon it has no basis in canon''#when i also like making up shit if it's interesting#so i make it clear that im just picky abt hcs and stuff like that#for me to enjoy them they gotta contribute something interesting to the source material but not come out of left field#and i dont rlly care for edgy stuff if it doesnt rlly serve much purpose#so i dont rlly care for hcs like ''bee is ACTUALLY megatrons great nephew once removed !!!!!!!!!!!!''#they do nothing for me i just go ''man i dont care'' and turn around#like thats just personal taste though and im a notoriously particular & picky person so. who cares what i think u get what i mean#though u should care abt arcee fanboy blurr bc its good and awesome alright /hj#IT THINK ITS FUN AND CONTRIBUTES AN INTERESTING TAKE ON CANON ...#bc blurr admiring arcee 1) makes sense bc arcee is genuinely a badass & literally worked in the same division he does#2) brings more focus to the parallel between them about how they got seriously injured in ways that impact their most notable qualities#(arcee having her memories wiped when her mind is one of her most important qualities as a school teacher & intel agent)#(blurr having his body damaged & handicapped when speed achieved by his physical athletic ability is a defining part of his character)#3) solidarity in that trauma baby. and arcee can be blurr's gramama (applause amazing brilliant we love to see it)#and also who doesnt love to see blurr having girlbosses idols. arcee inspires him to be a girlboss too#see this is how ridiculous i am i have to have these detailed thoughts abt hcs i cant just go stupid#no i cant change this about myself btw#i am pretentious at heart i have to be like this with media i enjoy#but still i always try to indicate that i am aware that my hcs are just fan interpretations of stuff so i dont like#accidentally come off as me forcing my ideas of canon onto other ppl like. this is just my lego city that im building i know of my bullshit#though i still do draw deep lines for things like . blurr being social (shudders)
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did the pog face seeing highbrow prime in tfa even tho idc him bc it’s like hiiiiii highbrow hiiii let’s go get killed by shockwave together this ep
#love the intel division we suck at our jobs 😌💞💞💞💞💞#actually thats a big part of my hcs abt what b.lurr is like postcanon#i think the a.utobots being infiltrated got to him but like ESPECIALLY the fact that it was INTEL and also HIS DIRECT SUPERIOR#like hit him like a slap in the face that oh wow hm huh maybe he should be more Suspect of the systems in place & what he’s being told 2 do#& also maybe there r some Big Flaws in place to have allowed that to happen in the firstplace#altho at the same time he knows that resources r stretched thin & sh.ockwave isnt like. an average d.ecepticon
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"Israel also secretly hires Jewish Americans as spies to work out of its Washington embassy and its consulates around the United States to covertly surveil and monitor fellow Americans, including students. Thoroughly vetted to ensure loyalty to Israel, many of those hired have spent years heavily involved in pro-Israeli activities from the time they were in college and before. Among them was Julia Reifkind, who led a pro-Israel group at the University of California at Davis before moving on to become an activist with AIPAC. After she graduated in 2016, she was hired by Israel and assigned to its embassy in Washington.
Reifkind had good preparation for her assignment. Thinking that Kleinfeld was a fellow pro-Israel activist, over dinner at Washington’s Mari Vanna restaurant she revealed that while at AIPAC she spent much of her time deceiving college students about her covert connection to the organization. “Obviously, I’m an AIPAC-trained campus activist,” she said. “When you’re lobbying on behalf of AIPAC, you don’t say AIPAC, you say, ‘I’m a pro-Israel student from UC Davis.’ And when you’re meeting with students on campus I would never say, ‘I am the AIPAC campus rep.’ I’d say, ‘My name is Julia and I’m a pro-Israel student.’”
At the embassy, Reifkind focused on developing intelligence on fellow Americans, including students on college campuses. “So nobody really knows what we’re doing,” she said. “But mainly it’s been a lot of research like monitoring BDS.”
In a different conversation, Reifkind explained: “It’s mainly gathering intel, reporting back to Israel. That’s a lot of what I do. To report back to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the Ministry of Strategic Affairs, and make sure they have the right information.” Among the ways she spies on pro-Palestinian activists and Palestinian human rights supporters is with phony Facebook accounts. “I have my fake Facebook that I follow all the SJP [Students for Justice in Palestine] accounts. I have some fake names. My name is Jay Bernard or something.”
Once Reifkind collected the intelligence on her targets, she passed it on to her boss at the embassy. Then it was sent to the Ministry of Strategic Affairs and other offices over a secure encrypted system called Cables. It’s “really secure,” she said. “I don’t have access to [it] because I’m an American.… I’ve seen it, it looks really bizarre…. And then they’ll send something back and he’ll translate it and tell me what I need to do.”
Since the brutal Hamas attacks on Israeli civilians on October 7 and the Israeli invasion of Gaza, the ICC and its US-based spy networks are no doubt working overtime. But there is little likelihood of interference by the FBI—well trained to look the other way when it comes to Israel. It was a situation that even frustrated a former head of the FBI’s counterintelligence division. When I asked him why no one would talk to me about Israel’s massive espionage in the United States, he simply shook his head.
“You don’t think Israel’s a sensitive topic?” he asked, requesting that his name not be used. “So, Israel has been looked at and is being looked at and that’s all I can tell you,” he said. “But nobody’s doing anything.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“You can imagine,” is all he would say, implying high-level political involvement. I then said that I was planning to write about the topic. “I hope you do. I hope you do,” he said. Sighing, he added, “I’ve been there done that. I know it. I’ve brought cases to the Department of Justice on Israel.” Cases that were never opened."
— Israel’s War on American Student Activists by James Bamford on The Nation
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What No one Tells You about Writing Fantasy, #2!
I did this list about 7 annoyances about fantasy, but I write in this genre for a reason! Fantasy knows no bounds, it can encompass all other genres within it. You can write a fantastical murder mystery, fantasy horror, fantasy romance, political drama, slice-of-life, comedy, whatever you’d like!
Whether it’s urban or high fantasy, supernatural or scientific, here’s seven great benefits of writing in this genre:
1. No modern means of communication
Unless you’re writing a world with phones or phone-adjacent devices. Phones and instant communication seriously inhibits the plausibility of dramatic irony and tension when you have to keep coming up with reasons to keep your characters from calling or texting each other everything they know. It’s exhausting, I tell you, and such a relief when phones aren’t a factor.
With that said, without phones, you have complete freedom to design your own magical channels of supernatural FaceTime, as weird and zany as you want. But without instant connections? Your character who knew too much can’t pass on the intel before they die. Your hero team can’t call for backup in their darkest hour. Otherwise easily preventable tragedies and deadly miscommunications are now very real.
2. The Monster Allegory
Fantasy and sci-fi tend to overlap more than they’re set apart, and in that overlap sits the monster allegory. Everything from werewolves to vampires to witches, reapers, demons, angels, goblins, trolls, wraiths, fairies, mermaids, ghosts, to Eldritch horrors and your classic Hollywood cast of mummies, creatures from the black lagoon, and Frankenstein.
Most of the time, the monsters aren’t just monsters, they represent a monstrous aspect of society the author wants to challenge and caricaturize in a fun and entertaining way. Or, the monsters are the good guys and the humans are the real terrors. Or, you’ve got two kinds of monsters to allegory two human sides. Sometimes they represent metaphorical demons, like vampires often representing addiction and werewolves repressed identities.
What all of this boils down to is the hyperbolic nature of science fantasy that allows you to go over-the-top with your metaphor and allegory in a way that a book grounded in reality just can’t.
3. Magic Systems!
Do you love world building? Do you love filling pages upon pages with your cool and unique set of superpowers you want your characters to have? Do you dream about your fight scenes and dramatic slow-mo shots?
Then Fantasy is for you!
There are zero limits to how you want to define your magic system. You can go classic with the familiar archetypes of elemental magic, wizards, sorcerers, and witches. Or you can step off the beaten path and design a whole new funky system of power sets. Best part? Your readers will have an awesome time imagining themselves with those powers, and debating endlessly about how it works.
4. Real-World Politics, who?
Amazon’s Rings of Power was twice-doomed when they only got the rights to adapt the appendices of The Silmarillion and when they decided to inject current political problems into a timeless story written purposefully to be divorced from those politics. You *can* write about human politics, but in fantasy, you don’t have to. You *can* interpret Lord of the Rings to be an allegory about the World Wars, but no matter how hard you argue, it wasn’t written with that intent.
Which means: Even if your story is set in the reality-adjacent fantasy version of 1543, you are free from the following: Racism, homophobia, sexism, religious bigotry, mental health bigotry, gender norms, anti-feminism, toxic masculinity, and more. “But that’s how it was-”
Nope. This is fantasy. You built this world, you decided to keep in the discrimination. Or… You can fill your fantasy world with a rainbow of gays, POCs in power, women in power, men unafraid to be compassionate and caring, a religion that doesn’t foster hate and division, the list goes on. You. Are. Free.
5. Nothing is too “unrealistic”
Both that you will always have people whining about how X would never happen so write the book you want to read, but also because fantasy is fake. Fairies aren’t real. Mermaids aren’t real. There are no rules for how they must be written and that’s how we have so much variety with so much room for interpretation by so many creators. Twilight made how much money writing about vampires that sparkle like diamonds in sunlight and crack like marble?
This is fantasy, it’s supposed to be unrealistic. Yes, your plot should make sense, but don’t be afraid to get weird. Write at least some of your story dependant on those fantasy elements. Write a story that can’t just be told in the real world minus the spectacle. Don’t be afraid to be sincerely fantastical and weird. People love weird. People love loving weird.
6. You are in complete control
But you do still need to research, unfortunately. Unless this is urban fantasy that depends at least a little on the human world, yours is completely your own to govern like a god tweezing weeds from their garden. You get to design your own geography and weather patterns and seasons. Your own countries and kingdoms and politicians. Your epic pre-canon fantasy war and the stakes that it was fought over. Your species, races, and ethnicities.
It’s a shame that a movie like Avatar (2009) set out to be this wholly unique take on aliens with music completely divorced from earthly bonds, new languages and a visually and culturally distinct alien species… and ended up a largely generic blue Pocahontas in space. It forgot that it was fantasy and didn’t go weird enough. They have horses, monkeys, wolves, rhinos, and deer just re-skinned with some extra limbs and colors. It’s pretty but it’s so, so shallow.
It could have become a cult classic like many a positively *weird* 80s off-beat fantasies, and now it just… exists. It makes a whole lot of money but its impact on the cultural zeitgeist is negligible. I’m the only person I know that can name every major character in the movie, and I’m no Avatar obsessor. They had complete creative control, and this is what they did with it. Don’t be Avatar. Take your creative freedom and run.
7. Even if it has been done before, do it again
You can say this about any genre, particularly romance, but fantasy and sci-fi, by the gatekeep-y nature of their fans, can be a lot less forgiving when it comes to claims of “unoriginality”. No one hates Star Wars more than Star Wars fans. Fans of these genres can get… concerningly attached to their favorite stories (mostly because the people who like them had only their fictional heroes to protect them from very real bullies).
But Game of Thrones exists because the author likes Lord of the Rings and went “yes, but what if it was an R-rated parade of misery?” Dungeons and Dragons exists because people wanted to roleplay in an LotR-esque world. Legolas and Gimli single-handedly defined what a badass elf and dwarf looks like in high fantasy. And people still gobble up media ripping shamelessly, or even good-naturedly, from this one story.
So on my other list, I argued that the sum of your parts is still original, even if the components aren’t. On this list, I implore you this: It’s not stealing or appropriating to write another Legolas if you love Legolas. Everyone loves Legolas. How many generic buff action heroes do we have and love? How many Hallmark romances tread the same predictable path? Who gives a damn if it’s unoriginal? Just make it entertaining and have something fresh to say in the end (or don’t, that’s fine too), and people will read it.
And when people say “Oh, you mean like Legolas”, take it as a compliment, not an insult. Yes, exactly like Legolas. Here’s my new elf because I adore this other book, now watch him go on a new adventure that I wrote for him.
#writing advice#writing resources#writing tips#writing tools#writing a book#fantasy#scifi#writeblr#writing#what no one tells you about writing
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We need to talk about Echo (and by talk I mean screm). S3 E13 + 14 Spoilers!
FRIENDS, I'M GOING TO EXPLODE. I need to talk about Echo for a minute. We need to talk about Echo for a minute, because he has spent the last two episodes in the absolute thralls of complete and total danger, and I personally don't feel like there's been enough of a celebratory uproar for me to be satisfied with the level of appreciation and love that man deserves. (Remember when Hunter ran face first into a colossal exhaust pipe and we all collectively lost our minds because it was so impressive and so sexy? Remember when Tech drove a speeder really fast through a tunnel and we all fainted? I'M A TECH GIRLY. IT WAS ME! I FAINTED!!) but, Y'ALL, Echo deserves that right now!! And for all eternity!!! Because he is wholly submurged in the harrowing potential of torture and execution, and he didn't even bat an eye to put himself there. My awe of him is all-consuming, so please forgive me if this rant reads as nothing but incoherent screaming.
Echo haters (first of all, we can't be friends....) come on this journey with me! Let's back pedal to the beginning of the last episode (13). He stole an imperial shuttle. Let me repeat, he stole an imperial shuttle. And not just an attack shuttle. Not just a lil one-pilot transport. Bro somehow stole a Rho-class medical transport, which is very large, obscenely conspicuous, and very easily tracked. And, to use his own words, it was "the best he could do on short notice." The man stole a shuttle on short notice. ON SHORT NOTICE? HELLO, HOW DID HE DO THAT. WHY AIN'T WE LOSING OUR COOL ABOUT IT.
Next stop on this I-love-Echo journey through my mind: not only did he provide his brothers transportation in the complete void of their own (RIP havoc bb), but he also came equipped with intel and clearance codes, and, as Rampart stated, those things change DAILY. Echo somehow procured top secret imperial clearance codes, and a fkn SHIP, within hours of the Batch requesting his help. Not to mention, the ship had yet to be reported missing (which means it was only-freshly commandeered), and the clearance codes worked. Of course they did. Echo never fails. Never doubt Echo. "Echo's on it."
Choochoo, next stop! Once they arrived on that station orbiting Coruscant, and made their way to the control room (lookin sexy as heck in his armour-au-noir), he broke imperial encryption, hacked into the Imperial database, almost instantly found them the location of a ship departing for the prison that holds their daughter Tantiss, AND THEN DIDN'T EVEN HESITATE TO CLIMB ABOARD AND STOW AWAY.
He didn't even remotely have a plan, or have time to make a plan. He didn't know who or what else would be on board that mysterious vessel. He didn't know where it was going other than the name of the fkn mountain (which has proven to be nothing but unhelpful thus far). He just ARC-troopered his way through that crowded hangar, dodging aggressive astromech's and inconsiderate loader droids, shirking from the perspective eyes of highly trained commandos, and snuck his way onto a heavily guarded, extremely unknown science vessel. Then, of course, he wasted no time, hacking into the ships control system (may I gently remind- there were at least three pilots and an officer prepping the ship for jump and closely watching all aspects of its controls), disabling the proximity sensors without being detected, and then seamlessly covered the troopers absence by pretending to be him (which we all know is what should have happened on Serenno but... hindsight is 20/20.)
So... SO.... now we're at Episode 14. Here we at fkn terrified station because HULLO ECHO IS ALONE ON A SCIENCE DIVISION TRANSPORT; we have literally seen them carry around Zilo beasts in that shit. What the heck else could be on there that they don't know about? Literally anything. Because THEY KNEW NOTHING before attaching themselves to it. Echo knew NOTHING before sneaking onto that thing and creepin' around. Thank heck he didnt come across a fkn fresh wave of slither vines ok?
NEXT, Echo shoots (not stuns- lol) a sassy fkn droid (they had it coming, not sorry), then another trooper. AND THEN discovered his only option for departing the ship once it enters atmosphere is going completely undercover, because (in true "we improvise everything" CF99 fashion that gives me heart burn just thinking about it), they had zero fkn plan to get off the ship. I will repeat: completely undercover. On Tantiss. COMPLETELY UNDERCOVER ON TANTISS. NO COMMS, NO BACK UP, NO RECON, NO PLAN, BARELY ANY GEAR, and I would just like to stress... no neuro brace. He left his neurobrace on that ship. Left it. LEFT IT AND TOOK A HAND INSTEAD. PLEASE FKN SEDATE ME.
We can't leave this station yet... This I-love-Echo train needs to linger at this point for a sec because I think it's lost on some people how wild this is. Echo without his neurobrace is huge. It's a bigger deal than Echo without his armour. Armour is, in the grand scheme of things, inconsequential (one can find more- see Howzer). Echo's neurobrace is not armour, it's a computer and it's so so so crucial to how his mind processes information and events. Don't forget, the Technounion HIJACKED HIS BRAIN. They took every memory from him and manipulated it for their gain. Pruned it, tweaked it, blanched it, poached it, turned it into scrambled eggs, and then fkn ate it up and used it to defeat their enemies (Echo's family- I'm sobbing). They implanted him with an unfathomable amount of information; they changed the way the neurons in his brain fire in relation to stimuli. That neurobrace is so so critical for him. Now, we know he can operate well enough without it, we saw it in the last episode of the TBB arc in season 7 of Clone Wars, but... please.... to what extent? We don't know what an extended time without that neurobrace looks like for him... especially when all other aspects compliing his surroundings foreign, unknown, and dangerous, and that scares me.
AND NOW HE'S ABOUT TO RUN AMOK IN TANTISS with Emerie who, (I'm sorry) is wishy-washy as heck (who are you loyal to!!!!! What is your history!!! Are you trustworthy and what are you looking to gain!!!), trying to adopt a collection of Jedi children whove spent maker-knows how long playing space tetris, WHILST ALSO ATTEMPTING TO LOCATE AND ESCAPE WITH HIS BROTHERS UNDER THE EYE OF THE GALAXY'S SECOND MOST DANGEROUS MAN.
So yes, short of d-d-d-di... can't say it... short of THE WORST CASE, Echo has made the ultimate sacrifice to save not only Omega who is literally the only person we've seen able to make him truly laugh, but all the clone brothers that he's been desperately trying to locate and rescue. His bravery and determination are literally unrivalled, and he did it while feasting on nothing but humble pie because that man wouldn't know arrogance if it danced naked under his perfect nose.
Okay so welcome, we've finally pulled into I-Love-Echo station. Before departing the ride, please stand and do a hip hip hurray for the miracle that is Echo, including but not limited to, everything he's done, is doing, and is willing to do for other people.
#starqueensemotionalbreaksdowns lol#long post#the bad batch#tbb#bad batch#tbb spoilers#the bad batch spoilers#the bad batch season 3#the bad batch season 3 spoilers#bad batch season 3#bad batch spoilers#bad batch season 3 spoilers#tbb season 3#tbb season 3 spoilers#starqueensedits#tbb echo#echo tbb#bad batch echo#echo bad batch
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Vulnerable pt.1?
A/N: A not-so-little thing I've had for a few weeks, and wanted to see if a part two was something anyone would be interested in reading. If so, please let me know.
Summary: You try and get Ghost to relax after a harsh mission and find a bit of a quiet moment.
T/W: not proofread :)
Bad intel led to you and your Lieutenant being nearly hunted down and killed by a not-so-small group of arms dealers who caught on quickly to the pair of foreigners lingering just a little bit too close to their sheltered storage garage right in the middle of a market district in the South East. The task force assumed sending in an entire squad would be overkill just for some simple recon information and decided that you and Ghost would be the perfect pair for the job. ‘In and Out…’ Price had said quite offhandedly, sliding the prepared information in two files across the table to you. Only Price’s sources hadn’t double-checked if the area was secure enough for them to enter without full backup on standby. Not necessarily a lethal kind of mistake when bringing you and the Lieutenant into the equation, but there were too many close calls and stray bullets that were clearly heard for either of you to feel super confident in getting away unscathed.
Your only savior was a small farmhouse that had been recently abandoned due to the illegal and dangerous activity that had been surrounding the small city. Modest in size with two bedrooms and running water. Perfect for a makeshift safe house to keep the trackers off your asses until an extraction could be arranged and put into motion. Contrary to belief, the 141 didn’t have the bottomless pit of resources everyone believed they had at their disposal. Which included access to evac and trained air-support teams. This wasn’t a big mission that had a lot of working parts and multiple organizations involved that had enough liquidated funds to through out for a helo and heavy gunners to rescue two operators from the middle of who-the-fuck-knows-where.
That means with busted equipment, inoperable comms, hardly enough ammunition to fight out of a wet paper bag, and zero way of knowing when and if you’d be rescued, there was nothing left to do but try and relax in one of the most difficult predicaments. It left you searching through cabinets for maybe some kind of food to keep the both of you while Ghost did one of his favorite things. Pacing the house from window to window looking for the slightest bit of movement. The trouble being, there wasn’t anything for at least two miles in any direction. The people who owned this place were farmers of some sort, and had placed their home right in the middle of crop fields that gave a very advantageous sightline. While that information gave you quite a bit of comfort, it was not effecting Ghost positively in the slightest.
Your relationship with the Lieutenant was complex, to say the least. When you were first introduced it was for a succession of short co-op missions that were nothing if not brief and very impersonal leaving you with more questions than answers about the man who stayed hidden under the mask. Through some talks that you hadn’t been privy to being in the room for, John Price decided that your skills would be more useful to Task Force 141 than for the U.S. Division of Clandestine Service and offered you a position that you couldn’t possibly decline.
By day-in and day-out contact with Ghost, you got a lot more comfortable with him and learned much of his little idiosyncratic behaviors. Maybe a little too well…. He didn’t particularly act much differently towards you in the grand scheme of things, but something in you felt like trust had been developed to where he could depend on you when the situation called for it.
“Go hit the rack, I’ll take first watch.” He called gruffly from the living room where he had moved a chair from the kitchen to sit facing the front door head on with his MP5 resting lazily on his chest.
You couldn’t help but notice just how damn tired he looked under all that gear and through the black smeared around his eyes. He couldn’t be carrying less than one hundred pounds on him right now; even sitting in that chair with it wasn’t a good enough solution. Let you take a moment or two for yourself, stripping out of your tac vest and heavily weighted gear to drop it on top of the kitchen counter with a little grunt. Two days ago you both got the luxury of sleeping, and since then it’s been nothing but being on the run.
This would be the safest place for you that wasn’t in the belly of an evac bird, and the thought of Ghost not taking the time to sleep sat in your mind like a lead sinker. Leaning against the doorway and watching him for a long moment, you start having thoughts. Dangerous thoughts. Ones that normally wouldn’t surface if you’d been able to separate working with Ghost from the more personal aspect of literally sharing almost every part of your life with him. Thoughts about how you could make him feel better… even if just for the night. That no one was around for miles and whatever happened could safely stay between the pair of you.
By utter carelessness of your position with the team or lack of fear about how the Lieutenant might respond, you walk into the living room and kneel down right in front of him with your fingers reaching out to unlace his dusty boots. Off instinct alone, you expected and watched as his foot flinched away from you. His whole body jumps and stiffens at the contact and sight of you kneeling on the floor. He quickly pauses and collects himself, taking several moments before his gravelly voice breaks the silence.
“What’re you doin’ Sergeant?” His eyes grew heavy and showed more expression than the rest of his massive body as they flashed with confusion and a little swell of anger. That aloofness didn’t hide that slight guardedness of something that made him uncomfortable in one way or another.
“I’m perfectly capable of takin’ care of my fuckin’ self.” He adds with zero discernible sign of either offense or gratitude. You can’t help but smile tiredly, feeling like you’re attempting to soothe a feral wolf into letting you pull it’s paw out of trap.
“I never said you couldn’t L.T.,” You reply gently, reaching back to start unhooking the laces from their claws on his left foot. “Just thought you couldn’t use some affection.” Smirking to yourself, you can’t help but think something this small being considered ‘affection’ didn’t fit anyone save for Ghost. He was just too hard to approach. Walls so thick and tall that it would take someone with patience beyond that of a human to break through and see what rested behind all of that brash posturing and icy disposition.
“You know affection is something I’m averse to,” he utters, watching yet making no effort to stop you. “What you’re doin’ is unnecessary.” A small sound close to a growl escapes from behind the mask when my hand reaches to the back of his leg to help aid my effort of pulling his boot off.
Chuckling softly and sitting the boot down at your side you respond, “I know you don’t like affection,” You’re already working on the other one, purposefully moving slowly as not to overwhelm or spook him. “That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve it, L.T..” You can’t help but look up at him almost exhaustedly yet still trying to be reassuring.
“M’fine without it.” He spits out quickly, looking away from your face back down to your progress on the laces, his masked face otherwise unreadable. “Didn’t ask you for this shit, Sergeant.” Tinged with an undercurrent of irritation his deep voice sounds near the bridge of turning to anger.
“Mothering me isn’t in your best interest.” He growls low and threateningly in your face as he bends down to grab the boot sitting next to you and giving it a quick look of observation before sitting it back down closer to him. You just finish taking off his other boot and sit it down next to the other without much more of a verbal fight and put a hand on his thigh to steady your sore legs as you get back up to your feet.
“I’m younger than you Ghost, I can’t mother you.” You reply, holding out your hand for him.
He doesn’t make note or stop you from using him to help yourself up, however, Ghost follows your movements carefully… closely. He’s doing everything in his power to hide his emotions, but there’s still a faint twitch of his lips when he looks down at his boots sitting at his side. You’d done something very unusual, and he knew berating you was what he should’ve done. Yet a flinch of a smile was what really moved Ghost’s mouth. It’s gone before it even surfaces, pushed down by the sight. of you holding out your little hand in front of him. The sounds of his deep breathing fill the quiet house as you both sit there unflinching of each other. The Lieutenant shifts in his chair, readjusting his rifle on his chest.
“Go to bed. It’s late.” His repeated command felt softer now. Wavering a bit with you hand still held out and your fingers wiggling a little.
“Come on,” You hold steady and patient.
Reward comes in the form of feeling Ghost’s heavy and large hand falling into yours and gripping just hard enough to allow you the phantom sensation that you’re actually helping him up from the chair, hearing a short grunt as his back straightens up. Without explanation, you lead the Lieutenant through the small house back towards the only bedroom in the house with an actual bed left behind by the owners, pulling him to the center of the room and turning around to face him.
“Put your arms up for me.”
“Excuse me?” Ghost’s frown can be heard from behind the mask. Despite his apparent bewilderment, he hesitantly obeys, extending his arms above his head with an exhale of a tense breath, looking down at you with dark and questioning eyes. “What are you doing now?”
You just smile and hum to yourself softly, reaching out to begin unclipping and unzipping the sections of his tac vest holding it on his upper body and the multiple ammo belts. Carefully draping them over you shoulder as you release his body from them one by one. Seeing the way Ghost’s body sinks into itself with the weight being pulled off after days without rest. You feel his eyes scan over you, over your hands finding ways to take off his gear for the first time in your life, feeling your way through sunch an unusual yet careful act.
“Bein’ fuckin’ ridiculous…” He growls, covering up the feelings of not being so concealed by barking at you a little.
“Shhh.” Your hush does enough to stop his quiet and brooding complaints.
Long enough for you to kneel back down at his feet and work at the thigh straps over his pants and even remove the ankle holster you’d left alone while taking off his boots. He doesn’t resist this part, just watching you undress him bit by bit with half a mind questioning just what had happened for you to start acting so strangely. You’d always been sweet. Much nicer than your job allowed for. Yet even this was quite off the edge of the character Ghost had built for you over the years. This felt downright intimate for just two operators to be doing.
Then again your shared situation wasn’t exactly one of professionalism at this point. You’d been improvising for nearly a full day just trying to stay alive. Once back on your feet, you take hold of his hand again, this time with a little less caution since you’d already touched him there, and begin pulling at the fingertips to slide his sand and dirt-cakes gloves off. Even seeing his bare skin under his gloves be seen in the dim lamplight of the house, Ghost doesn’t do more than flex his fingers once you’ve rid him of the stiff material.
Purposefully avoiding his mask, you get Ghost down to nothing more than boxers and a t-shirt, even with his help at certain parts without him growling more or acting like you were irritating him. While he still gave off a feeling of all-around grumpiness and more than a little confused as hell, you paid it no mind as you led him towards the edge of the bed and pointed to it with a short yet polite command for him to ’sit’. Right away you noticed his hesitation and the way that his shoulders and arms tensed, his attention solely on you, flashing between your eyes and mouth like he was trying to reassure himself that he’d heard you correctly. But with one small tug on his hand, he turns around and sits on the bed with his feet resting on the floor and his arms braced on both sides of him a little stiffly.
“Now what?” His voice held a bit of rasp to it as he tracked your movement from his side, seeing you climb up into the bed and position yourself on your knees behind him. The close proximity didn’t go unnoticed by the Lieutenant as he cleared his throat, once again interrupting the calm silence in the house. His tension filled the small space between you, heating the gap of air, almost electrifying it.
“Just relax Ghost.” Easily touching his shoulders, you begin working your palms flat against the slopes of his muscled neck.
Purposefully but gently rubbing at the stiff cords of muscle and introducing the sensation to him as easily as possible in the case that it was a bit too overwhelming for him all at once. You knew you’d pushed the boundaries with him much further past anything you’d expected to achieve in one night. But now that he was sitting here in front of you, it was hard not to smile brightly that he was trusting you so much. Allowing your hands to be on him. Accepting that you had positioned the both of you in a very vulnerable position that could lead to a lot more violent options than affectionate ones. Torture and nightmares had given more than a fair share to Ghost, yet he was patiently staving off his own clear hesitation so that you could play out whatever this was turning out to be.
Your command went unacknowledged just like all of Ghost’s from earlier had; His breathing steadily slowing down into a deep and rich, relaxed sort of rhythm. Power of your hands and calming attitude worked faster than you anticipated, leaving the massive man sitting between your thighs begin to release. Tension falling out of his body not only under your hands but by sight of his jaw loosening. You’re even lucky enough to spot him trying to take glances at you from the corner of his eye, only to look back ahead since you were in quite the blindspot. Taking your thumbs in a sweeping motion from the edges of his shoulders inward, you apply pressure on the back of his neck and experimentally reach higher up under the hem of his mask. A dangerous game to play. Rumbling sounds of appreciation filling your ears are better than any sort of medal you could earn or bet you’d ever cash in. His head rolls back slightly with each small circle of your thumbs and fingers, pushing against you. Silently asking for more pressure.
“Feel good?” You ask at just a whisper, not wanting to disturb the warm sort of feeling the room has right now by speaking too loud.
Under the safety of his mask, Ghost’s mouth curves into a smile hearing you. He rolls his head back again, arching slightly to accommodate your small hands struggling to find good purchase to keep working at the intensity he’d been hinting at. A much less controllable sound escapes his mouth when you begin working at a very sore spot he didn’t even know was present right at the base of his skull.
“Keep going,” His sleepy-sounding mutter makes your chest ache.
Grinning at the feeling of his harsh accent and sudden domestication you work away diligently down his back carefully and methodically so as to not miss a single thing. And while it’s not necessarily going to help him much, you go ahead and use your fingernails to gently scratch up and down. It’s then a groan interrupts your focus and you see Ghost shift on the edge of the bed. Believing you’d found the end of your time, you leaned back on your heels and expected him to get up and leave you in the bedroom alone. Watching him tug at his t-shirt and pull it over his head to toss it somewhere across the room was how you were told that Ghost did indeed want more. Only his shirt was getting in the way of something he wasn’t getting.
Hearing him give a deep sigh when your fingertips returned to his now bared skin gave you a rush of adrenaline and nearly caused you to wiggle happily that you’d been able to share this with Ghost. He leans back into you a little more, letting your hands and arms take more of the weight as he groans out;
“You’ve done this before.”
“Yeah, but not for a long time.” You answer, eyes smoothing over the muscles rippling as your hands work at them.
“You’re good,” He grunts, closing his eyes and zeroing in on how to focus his attention between your small hands working so efficiently and the conversation he’d begun. “How’d you get so good at it?” His head turns a little, trying to get at least one good look at you. He keeps shifting now, allowing him to keep you just in the edge of his periphery.
“Had a good teacher for a few years,” You answer, working in tight circles over a large ball of muscle fibers all collected just at the edge of his shoulder blade, earning another growling sound from the Lieutenant.
“Teacher? When?” He asks, giving a slow release of a deep breath giving a short indication that the muscle you’d been working to release was getting a bit uncomfortable. Pulling back for a moment just to give him and your hands a break, you hear him make a noise then lean back a little further, pressing his back against you almost like a dog wanting to be pet more.
“Don’t stop.” He requests in a husky tone. You chuckle aloud, returning your hands and taking a less aggressive approach by smoothing your palms over him in less-than-planned patterns, just enjoying feeling his tattooed and scarred skin under your hands as you think about how to answer him.
“A woman in London taught me,” you start, using your nails again on his skin softly. “In the year or so between my U.S. military discharge and acceptance into the task force with you.” You see the effect of your touch on Ghost as it takes him longer to respond and the way he keeps leaning more and more weight back into you, unable to keep himself from subconsciously trying to get closer. Wanting more whether he’d ever admit it or not. There’s no mistaking it between either of you, he’s enjoying this.
“I assume she was special to you.”
It was your neighbor just across the hallway from you. An older woman named Sarah. Eccentric in modern times, you’d always believed she must’ve been a force to be reckoned with when she wasn’t hindered by an aging body and an even more ailing mind. A massage therapist by trade, and a pianist by heart there wasn’t much that Sarah could accomplish without someone helping her once she became limited in movement living on the eighth floor of the apartment building you shared. Back then you didn’t have much in the way of contacts after leaving the country, and it led to a friendship with the old woman living across from you. Sharing stories, eating dinner together, grocery shopping together when she felt like going out, and trading some skills between each other. After telling Ghost this much with your fingers tracing out letters and shapes over his back, you can sense he’s listening carefully. And Ghost is feeling a slight fuzzy sensation building in the back of his brain, spreading out in a warm wave down to his fingertips and toes.
“She taught me massage since at the time I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with my life.” Your head falls to the side, examining how the lamplight shines on ghost and deepens the already significant definition in his physique.
Ghost falls against you even more, and this time he lets his head fall back against you. Trying to counterbalance his weight and keep both of you from falling backwards with just him limp he’s becoming, you wrap on arm around his neck and hold his head in the bend of your arm. He gives another sigh, and settles against you heavily. He. looks at you in silence out of the corner of his eye listening to your explanation.
“Why was she your only friend?” You can’t help but chuckle at his question, resting your chin on his opposite shoulder and bringing your other arm under his to begin scratching and rubbing at his chest, feeling deep and puckered scars littering nearly every inch of him.
“I didn’t know anyone else. And you know me well enough to know that I’m not exactly extroverted.” You smile, tracing lightly up and down his well-defined arm. Ghost couldn’t be more comfortable laid against you.
“Sorry to hear that.” His voice low and husky with his mouth so close to your ear. “She must call or ask about you…”
You shake your head. “No. She died just before I joined you all. Her mind was… failing her. And there was some kind of accident in the middle of the night The police told me she was likely trying to get to the bathroom and fell. She apparently died on impact… they didn’t say what, but I think her head hit something.” You explain quietly. “And you and I both know that means lights out. So she didn’t suffer.”
“Sorry to hear that,” he answers as softly as he can manage after hearing the darker part of your happy memories. “How did it become… intimate, like this?” He asks, nodding to the way you were leaned up against his back with your hand tracing over every inch of him that you could reach. The longer you’ve both let this go, the more boundaries get pushed further out of reach, making it hard for either of you to really know where it could end.
You smile with a blush creeping up your neck onto your cheeks, thankful you’re somewhat hidden out of sight. “This isn’t really what she taught me,” You mutter a bit quiet. “When i was massaging you… yes. That I got taught. But this, it’s… just me.”
Out of your sight Ghost’s face flushes slightly as well, his cheeks a warm rose-color. You’re touching him in a way that he’d never expected. But hearing that you’re not just doing it for… relaxation, it’s a heavy but welcome thought. And Ghost can’t help that his body reacts to it with chills raising all over his skin despite the house being perfectly warm. He lets out a deep breath focusing on your words, repeating him over just to ensure that you’re not saying it one way and him interpreting it differently due to your hands being all over him, making him feel so good. Mind racing, heart pounding, he truly realizes just how vulnerable he is under you at this moment.
“I can stop if you’d like?” You offer, preparing to move away from him.
“No,” His hoarse voice gives away his sudden dry mouth. No matter how much your touch is affecting his body, he’s not willing to stop you right now. You’ve crossed into a level of trust that he can’t think to make you abide by anymore. It’s a foreign feeling for him, but he wants to push through it. Hoping he can feel more of you if he just holds on a little longer to this.
“Don’t stop."
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#simon ghost riley#ghost x reader#cod#cod mwii#simon riley x reader#simon ghost x reader#velvetures writes#velvetures
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ALL WRAPPED UP — PORTGAS D. ACE
pairing: portgas d. ace x gn! reader
content: canon-typical depictions of injury and blood
notes: after months of obsession, finally a one piece post
Your eyes drift to the open ocean again, watching the horizon with a hawk-like awareness. You shouldn’t be this distracted, not when you need to be formulating a strategy to propose to Whitebeard and the rest of the Division Commanders.
“You know he’s going to be fine,” Marco reminds you for what feels like the millionth time, giving you that same, knowing look.
You nod back. “Yeah, I do,” you reply but you can hear the tightness in your tone and the voice in your head reminds you that he’s been gone three days longer than expected.
You know that Ace is one of the strongest members of the crew; it’s the reason Whitebeard promoted him so quickly to Division Commander, the reason your captain sends him on solo missions often. It certainly doesn’t hurt that he has the power of the Flame-Flame fruit, but even the strongest of pirates have been beaten — Gol D. Roger being a perfect example.
You see a dot in the distance, which grows bigger as it draws closer. You hope it’s Ace but you put your crewmates on alert, just in case. To your utter relief, you recognize the yellow of Ace’s Striker but the relief is short-lived as he comes into focus. He’s gripping the boat’s mast, cuts and dark bruises marring his tanned skin. You don’t think twice as you jump off the side of the Moby Dick, landing steadily on the bow of the Striker.
Ace shoots you a signature lopsided smile, though it’s a bit pinched. “Don’t think you asked permission to board.”
You sigh and roll your fondly, trying to quell your racing heart as you slip an arm around his shoulders. His own arm drapes across your shoulders as the crew hoists the two of you up. With a cursory glance over him, Marco says, “Let’s get you to the infirmary.”
Ace untangles himself from you as soon as his feet land on the deck. “I’m fine, Doc,” he says. The way he stumbles a little as he tries to right himself and the blood slowly dripping from the deepest laceration at his shoulder doesn’t help his case.
Marco levels him with a stern look and a firm grasp on his uninjured shoulder, both of which make Ace sigh in acquiescence and follow Marco down into the ship. You chew on your lip, about to follow, but Thatch says, “Let Marco work. We’ve got a Division meeting. Check on Ace after.”
You glance one more time at the way the two men left before following Thatch to the captain’s quarters.
You’re hurrying down the steps towards the infirmary as soon as the meeting ends. You’re not even really sure what you all discussed. You can only assume it’s something about swords and cannons and the Marines, and you’ll get Thatch or Izou to catch you up on it later but you have more pressing concerns right now.
You nearly collide with Marco in your rush. “Sorry,” you say breathlessly. “How is he?”
Marco peers down at you through his glasses, half-amused, and answers, “Good. He’s been whining about not seeing you and it’s my duty to keep patients happy. So…” He slides over and you open the door.
Ace is wrapped in gauze and bandages, reclined grumpily in one of the infirmary beds. His face lights up when he sees you and he tries to sit up, wincing when he does. “Don’t get up,” you say, pulling the chair that is next to his bed closer to it. You adjust the pillow and unconsciously reach up to brush a stray strand of hair from his eyes. They follow your motion and when you realize that he’s now staring at your face, you quickly drop your hand.
There are so many questions racing through your head but the first, and most logical, one is: “What happened?”
Ace groans and huffs, “Got ambushed. Thought I was finished collecting intel and let my guard down a little too early.” When he sees you studying the dressing Marco wrapped around him, he nudges you with his elbow. “You should’ve seen the other guy.”
It makes you laugh a little and in turn, Ace’s smile grows wider. “You know,” he says, leaning close. You hold your breath as he puts his face only an inch or two away from yours. “I’ve always heard that a kiss makes everything hurt less.”
He wiggles his eyebrows teasingly, a mischievous glint shining in his dark eyes. You gulp down the knot that has formed in your stomach and your cheeks are on fire. He smells like sea salt and the open sky. You can count every freckle that dots his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. Ace’s smile falters when you don’t answer and he jerks back, stumbling over his words. “It’s no pressure or anything! It’s just something I’ve—”
Plucking up all your courage, you shift forward and move quickly so you don’t lose your nerve. Gently, you let your lips brush against the worst of his injuries: the cut in his right shoulder. You draw away swiftly and when you survey his face, you push down the pleasant warmth in your belly at the way his face goes red.
#.𖥔 ݁ ˖ kaiijo writes#one piece x reader#op x reader#portgas d. ace x reader#portgas d ace x reader#ace x reader#portgas ace x reader#one piece fic#one piece imagines#one piece ace#one piece
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The Intel and Bounty Division hires people based on three pieces of criteria; can you serve your government, can you serve cunt, and can you betray the Marines the second a funny person with pretty eyes asks you to? If you said yes to all three, this may be the division for you!
Jonah is chronically exhausted and Fergus has Nosy Bitch disease, unfortunately both are terminal. Oh and credit where credit's due, I started using @timxstuff's designs for Jonah's tattoos because they're better than mine on every level.
#sssbmty#one piece#one piece ocs#character design#Yeah colourful polos are part of the uniform#what of it
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You Don’t Send A Man To Do A Woman’s Job
Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x F! Reader
Summary: Heavily Inspired by the Fast Furious scene with Gal Gadot. While trying to figure out how to get intel on Makarov Y/N’s quick thinking & feminine ways help gain that intel much to surprise to Soap
Warnings: Sexual themes, seduction, mentions of female body parts
Being in the military definitely had it pitfalls sometimes it could mean sitting in a remote shack for days or even not having running water. But it definitely did have its perks. This was one of them. Drinking frozen Margaritas in the Bahamas Y/N, Soap, & Gaz all stood around a high top table staring at a group of Russians. They were given a tip that some of Makarov’s men were on vacation here. Soap & Gaz were bickering over what was the best way to gain intel off of them. Ghost & Captain Price were planted on the roof of the resort god forbid things went south.
“And how do you propose we do that? We can’t exactly just plant a device wherever we wanted to.” Soap replied with attitude. Gaz rolled his eyes & before he could even respond Price came over the radio.
“Oi knock it off you two!” He shouted. “Figure a plan out and let us know.” He sounded beyond frustrated & rightfully so. Y/N kept staring at them brainstorming ways she herself could be of assistance. Then she saw a very attractive blonde woman flirt with the armed guards outside of the cabana. It clearly drew attention to her & the the Russians invited her in. She plopped herself down onto one of their laps & accepted one of their drinks. A light bulb went off in her head.
“Guys.” She said trying to gain their attention. They started to bicker again & completely ignored her. “Soap? Gaz?” She tried again to no avail. “Fuck it, I’m going in Captain. Just make sure you’re recording their conversations.” She said into her hidden ear piece & whipped off her leopard coverup to reveal a cheeky red bikini. As she started to walk away both Soap & Gaz stopped talking.
“Steamin’ Jesus.” Soap said. Ghost & Price both chucked at the expense of his reaction. Everyone knew Soap had a thing for you it was so incredibly painfully obvious to everyone except you. He couldn’t help but admire the way your bikini bottoms hugged your ass or the fact your toned legs stretched on for miles. He licked his lips at the sight.
As she walked towards the cabana she gained some unwanted attention from men scattered all over the pool, but it didn’t phase her. She was on a mission & was determined. Once she made it to the cabana she started to flirt with the armed guards. With her breasts pushed up in her bikini top & her famous smile she had gained the attention of one of the Russians.
“It’s fine Ivan, let the beautiful American woman in.” One of the men said. “Come sit.” He beckoned her to come in & sit down. She sat on the arm of his chair & he immediately grabbed a handful of her ass. Then he said made a remark to his friend in Russian about how good your ass felt. To his knowledge you had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. But after being part of the US Army’s psychological warfare division Russian was one of five language you knew.
Back at the high top, Soap was ready to fight the man who grabbed you. Gaz almost had to physically restrain him.
“Think of the mission, Soap.” He reminded him. Soap grumbled to himself & started to mope into his drink. Over the next hour she had gained some of the most important intel about weapons, imports, exports, hell the whole operation. Soon the Russians started to get up to excuse themselves for dinner.
The man she had been sitting with, whom she come to know as Andrei invited her to dinner. She accepted even though she wouldn’t be attending. A small piece of her felt bad for lying. But she quickly reminded herself these men were war criminals. They profited off of the murder of children, women, & families. Once all of them were gone she walked back over to the high top where Soap & Gaz were.
Soap took the time to take in the sight of her walking towards them. Her breasts bouncing with each step, & the way her hips swayed. He was undressing her with his eyes & imagined her without that damn red bikini. Once she reached the table she put the cover up back on covering her body.
“So how much intel did you gain?” Gaz asked.
“More then we needed.” She replied.
“I have to ask, how on the Earth did you accomplish that?” Soap asked. She turned to him & smirked.
“It’s easy MacTavish, you don’t send a man to do a woman’s job.” She replied.
#cod imagines#call of duty#cod masterlist#john soap mactavish#soap mw2#ghost x soap#soap cod#soap x reader#soap mctavish#johnny mactavish#ghost call of duty#soap call of duty#soapghost#captain mactavish#john mactavish#john mactavish x you#soap mactavish smut
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To Hate A Heart That Beats For You
Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader
Genre: Jealousy, Tension
"Say please." It's all teeth and a sharp teasing voice with her. Ghost stills at the command, annoying flickering its agitated flames.
Every fucking thing about her rubbed him the wrong way, made him so...out of control? Agitated? All of the above? She always somehow manages to make him concede. She did it back then and she's doing it right now with his breath ghosting over her lips, hot and heavy.
Masterlist
There are not many things that shake the foundation of control Ghost keeps a tight grip on.
Throw him in the middle of a gunfight, a brawl or a series of rough drills and he's normally the first one to make it out. All his life he's been the kind of person to keep to himself, to deal with problems as efficiently and effectively as possible.
She was the exception.
Standing in front of him after two years, with the same pride lining her shoulders, the defiance in her eyes.
"You remember the Lieutenant, don't you?" Laswell stands between them, an unknowing mediator.
"We're...acquainted." She says dryly, locking eyes with Ghost himself. Her voice is the same as well. Everything about her is a shock to his system so part of him is glad that she's the one who spoke up.
Two years. Two years since they'd been promoted to the rank of Lieutenant together and gone their separate ways. He'd joined the 141 and she had taken fancy to some tactical intel gathering specialist group.
Laswell pauses, looking up from her file at the clear snap of tension in the air.
"No need for introductions then." She shuts the folder, giving them both her full attention. "She'll be joining your team for today, talking to your recruits about the intel gathering division she's a part of. Sergeant Gaz is already doing vice versa. I expect you to play nice for today, I don't want any... incidents, copy?"
"Copy." She says, watching Ghost nod.
And then suddenly they're alone, with only the thump of distant footsteps from the recruits to punctuate the silence hanging between them.
"As friendly as ever I see."
"I'm as friendly as you are pleasant." Ghost responds.
"I'm plenty pleasant. It's you that's never been able to get that stick out of your ass."
"Careful." He narrows his eyes, pushing himself off the wall. "We know how the last time you picked a fight ended."
"That's cute." She smiles. "I seem to remember you getting put on desk duty for two weeks."
"After I choked you out on the training mat."
"I'm sure you've been dreaming of doing that again." Her self-satisfied smile widens when he doesn't respond for a moment, taken aback. With a shake of her head, she directs her gaze back onto the field where the soldiers are slowly finishing their last lap. "I feel sorry for them. Having to see your ugly mug in the morning with that mask can't make their breakfast settle very well."
An arm brushes against hers, and before he pushes past her, Ghost leans down right next to her ear. "You were yelling quite the opposite the last time you saw it." He whispers with a slightly thicker accent than usual, letting the satisfaction of seeing that smug expression falter for a moment settle deep into him as he knocks past her roughly.
They had a...messy history to say the least.
Two forces as headstrong as them were bound to butt heads. Her earliest memory is arguing with him. The both of them have always had a competitive streak, whether that be on the mat or running timed drills.
That tension had to blow up in their faces sometime, and that time just happened to be the day after they both got promoted...
Her eyes follow his form as he orders the recruits over, telling them to split into small groups, informing them of why she was there.
Red creeps up her neck her mind flashes back to that night. They had been taunting each other in passing all day, silently arguing who the better candidate had been, which one of them deserved it more. It doesn't sound like Ghost at all but they'd always had something more fiery than what they were like by themselves.
One too many jabs had led to a small tussle, which had led to a moment of weakness and...well, now's not the time to remember the frantic touches and calloused hands. The first time she'd seen his maskless...
He certainly had been anything but ugly and that makes her so fucking mad.
Shaking it off, she composes herself and decides to take the reigns.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
It's been an hour of standing around, supervising the talk, and Ghost is ready to tear into something. Or someone, more preferably.
His jaw clenches, watching how she floats from soldier to soldier, group to group. The effect on them is instantaneous with the way they straighten up, surprised at being addressed before melting into smiles that are a tad bit too wide and eager, and eyes that wander farther than appropriate.
Her hand lingers on some of their shoulders, elbows nudge and compliments flow out of her mouth.
Maybe he's finally going insane?
A few times their eyes meet, and neither of them look away, too stubborn to be the first to fold. Every time, the corner of her mouth quirks up when she turns to keep doing what she was.
A sick, ugly feeling rears its head inside him at the sight.
What gave those pathetic recruits the right to look at her that way? And why are his fingers twitching for the knives strapped along the expanse of his body?
Why the fuck does he care?
"...Ghost? You with us?" She raises an eyebrow when his glare snaps to her instead. She's wandered over to him, leaving the recruits to talk amongst themselves for a break.
"What?" He says coldly.
"Someone piss in your breakfast?" God, he'd throttle her first, then move on to those other men-
"Same person who pissed in yours." The retort gets him a raise of an eyebrow but nothing more.
"Sure. I'm done here, so you can go back to terrorising the poor kids." It's a receptive group, more than a couple of them had shown interest in what she was saying. A few of the more promising ones she had taken a personal note of, intending to pass their names forward to Laswell to consider.
"Until we have the misfortune of meeting again." She says, and maybe it's a throwaway act of trying to remain civil in such a public setting, but she extends a hand towards him.
He eyes it for a second, eyes narrowing.
"If you're afraid I'll throw you over my shoulder like last time-"
She grins smugly when he takes her hands, squeezing it through the brief handshake a little harder than necessary.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
This is a terrible idea.
Somehow, because whoever's up there seems to have a personal vendetta against him, Ghost finds himself standing in front of her office door, a file on all the recruit's scores and past experiences Laswell had ordered him to pass onto her clutched loosely in his arm.
It was 11 at night, but the army notoriously never slept.
Because he's not a fucking animal, he knocks, waiting to hear her call out an okay before pushing the door open.
It's as sparsely decorated as his own office. There's not much to keep the value of sentiment in with lives as busy as theirs, but the things that catch his focus are the small picture frames set on her desk.
After her, of course.
Changed into something more casual, his eyes trace the dips and curves that are so utterly her.
"Did you need something?" She asks, the friendly edge to her voice flittering away when she sees it's him.
"No, but you do." Moving closer, he tosses the file onto her desk. Staring at it for a moment, she clicks her tongue whilst flipping through the pages.
"I'd like to snag a couple of these for my team in a few years." She mutters to herself, pausing over a few of the reports. Ghost's hands twitch with the urge to curl them inwards when he remembers the events of this morning.
She's studying him, he realises. With a quiet, titled expression, she's taking him in head to toe and it's the first time in a while Ghost has felt so stripped to the core.
"Got something to say?" His voice comes out rougher than intended. Making no move to speak, the corner of her lips quirk up slightly. Huffing quietly, she spins her chair back around to face her desk, picking up the pen she'd discarded when he first walked through her doors.
It's quiet. The scratching of pen on paper. Something about it jarrs him, ignites a twinge of irritation because why the hell is she so quiet now after he's asked her a question? Normally she sparsely shuts up enough for his heart to cool down from its quickened pace.
He'd say later on that he weighed the decision he made, that he really thought it through but frankly, the only thing on his mind is her, and it's cloudy with enough anger and an emotion he's not willing to admit right now that he acts without thinking. Completely on instinct.
Ghost spins the chair around so he's facing her and looking down. "Ignoring me now?" He says into the sharp silence. "Never thought I'd see the day you shut your mouth."
"Is that the way you talk to someone you spent the night with?" She answers. He grunts in surprise at her hand curling around the back of his beck, yanking him further down until they're face to face. "That's why you're still here, aren't you? Still bothered from this morning?" The smug look on her face only makes Ghost more irritated because she's right. He could have easily left after dropping the file off. He had no apparent reason to stay. "Couldn't stand the thought of sharing something you've already had a bite out of?"
It dawns on him with her tone right there and then.
She'd been doing it on purpose. The glances to him as she made her rounds, the way she lingered over the recruits only when she could feel his eyes burning into her from behind.
Ghost is met with that teasing, smug grin that fixes him into place a little too effectively because when she hooks an ankle around the bend of his knee and pulls, he goes down onto his knees without much of a fight. He's tall enough so they're actually face to face now, eyes level.
"Finally caught on?" The smooth lilt to has his stomach twisting and his mind reeling, though he stays as composed on the outside as always. Waiting. Watching. Urging himself to keep his hands to himself.
"Fuckin' hell." He breathes out. "You little minx."
"Affirmative."
Heated eyes take in the being that is her. Sharp smiles, dirty tactics, and that attitude that made him want to do things that would get him discharged if he were to ever voice them.
All of her was a deadly beautiful.
It checks out that Ghost is lover of deadly.
Calloused, rough hands, trails up her legs and settle around her hips. His eyes flicker down to her mouth and for a moment, neither of them speak. Then she leans closer and for a moment Ghost braces himself.
"Say please." It's all teeth and a sharp teasing voice with her. Ghost stills at the command, annoying flickering its agitated flames.
Every fucking thing about her rubbed him the wrong way, made him so...out of control? Agitated? All of the above?
He swallows past the bitter taste in his throat. Weighs his options.
"Please."
He mumbles it because she always somehow manages to make him concede. She did it back then and she's doing it right now with his breath ghosting over her lips, hot and heavy.
A smirk curves her mouth. "What was that?" She whispers. "Couldn't quite hear you..." Her hands move from his collar up to the edge of his balaclava, toying with the edge. Ghost makes no move to stop her when she slowly, so achingly slowly, starts rolling the fabric up.
"I fuckin' hate you." He growls, actions and words at war.
"You're showing me a lot of love for someone who claims so." Is all she says, movements halting as the fabric bunches over his nose, laying bare the bottom half of his face. "Would you let anyone touch you like this, hmm?" Skimming her fingers over the scar on his chin, his own hands tighten around her hips at the gentle feeling. She ends up cupping his cheeks. "Because I'll tell you this, Simon-"
It's a physical reaction, the way she says his name. He straightens up instinctively and takes in a muted, sharp inhale. She leans closer, and if he only tilted his head up a fraction they'd brush lips.
"It's been a long time since I've let anyone touch me like you are."
It snaps something in him, maybe his patience or perhaps his resolve.
One hand slides up to the back of her neck, the other one yanks her out of her chair and to the floor. He crashes their mouths together in a kiss that brings an instant sort of relief. It's not sweet by any means, all clicking teeth and pulling at each other. Hands roaming and breaths shared.
Neither of them knows who pulls away first, but eventually they're left to catch their breath, their foreheads pressed together.
Then she laughs, a light, soft breeze. "You should've seen yourself back then. Looked like you wanted to flay those kids alive." She snickers.
"I did." There's no use denying it, not when this, when she, makes something curl up and settle down deep within him. As much as she riles him up, she also brings him a kind of peace that he can't describe.
Goddamn, he's so far gone. Maybe he should book in a psych eval soon...
"Never thought I'd see the day you were like this." She hums, "Wish I'd taken a video of it."
"It won't happen again, love." He shakes his head, trying and failing to push down the slightest bit of amusement. "That you can count on."
"Wanna bet?" She says cheekily, scratching at the nape of his neck with her nails gently. It makes a shiver run down his spine, the curl of her lips widens as she feels it.
"You drive me fuckin' insane, you know that?" He mumbles against her lips.
"You love it." Is all she manages to get out before he pulls her in again.
Requests Are Open! Reblog, Like and Comment!
(27/07/2023)
#fanfiction#call of duty modern warfare 2#modern warfare x reader#ghost cod#cod ghost#cod mw ghost#ghost call of duty#ghost simon riley#ghost x reader#ghost mw2#mw2 ghost#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost riley#ghost modern warfare#ghost#simon riley#simon riley fluff#simon riley imagine#simon riley x you#simon riley x reader#call of duty modern warfare#call of duty modern warfare ii#x y/n#cod modern warfare#modern warfare#modern warfare 2#modern warfare ii#cod mw22
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In Secret
⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ✧ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ*
Summary: For six months, you and Steve have hidden your relationship from everyone, but what happens when you come face to face with death?
Rating: 17+
Warnings: Sneaking around, hostage situation, kissing, reader has a near death experience
Word Count: 1.6k
a/n: love a good ol’ Steve fic, never misses, I hope everyone enjoys this one, have a happy new year!!
⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ✧ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ*
Being Captain America’s significant other comes with an absurd amount of pressure; you have to be flawless, never make a single mistake, be a good role model for kids, and be just as if not more heroic, which is precisely why you’ve chosen to hide your relationship from everyone, fellow Avengers included. It wasn’t an easy decision, but you and Steve both decided that it would be for the best; you were new to the Avenger team and didn't want the added pressure of being with Steve; you and Steve somehow managed to have kept it hidden for six months, it didn’t come without its hardships though, Steve needed to keep up the appearance of a fearless leader, so he couldn’t be sweet on you when it came to training and performance evaluations; and you couldn't defend Steve when others complained about his methods, less they suspect anything between you two, much to your dismay Steve seemed to always have women after him, leading to a few disagreements about how Steve should handle the situation, you wanted Steve to be harsher when he turned them down, but Steve has a reputation to uphold, and being rude and dismissive was not a part of it.
"Okay, you leave first, and I'll join 5 minutes later," Steve said reassuringly, rubbing your arm gently and giving your hand a light squeeze.
"Okay, see you out there, Cap," you say playfully with a wink; you walk out of your room and down the hall into the conference room filled with fellow Avengers; your eyes scan for an empty seat.
"Y/N! Over here!" Wanda calls, waving her hand and patting the open spot between her and Natasha; you smile and briskly walk over.
"Did we start yet?" you asked, knowing the meeting can't start without Steve.
"No, just waiting for Steve," Natasha says matter of factly, doodling absentmindedly on a piece of paper.
"So, Natasha and I want to see that new movie that just came out. Do you wanna come?" Wanda asked, but you've already seen that movie with Steve earlier this week.
"I've already seen it," you said disheartened.
"HOW!? It's been out for two days?!" Wanda astonished. "It's honestly impressive how fast you watch these movies as they come out; who are you even seeing them with?" Wanda asked, peering at you suspiciously.
"Uh, my mom?" you voice with a rising inflection.
"Okay, this week's mission!" Steve calls out loudly, walking into the room before Wanda can question you further, "Our sources tell us Hydra is working on a new super soldier serum for a division of soldiers. Our mission is to stop them in their tracks." Steve says firmly, eyes landing on yours fleetingly.
"We'll go in groups of 3: Wanda, Clint, and Y/N in group one, group two is Me, Peter, and Scott, and the third and final group is Bucky, Sam, and Natasha.”
"We gotta hightail it; this is of great significance, so we move tonight, meet at the quin in an hour, we’ll discuss our plans of attack on the way," he says with a nod, marching out the room.
“Everyone’s here?” Steve asks, scanning the quin, ensuring everyone is accounted for, “Okay, as we fly over, group one will land on the south side of the building, my group will land east, group three lands west, and the quin will land in the north, the goal is to push toward the center where intel tells us the serums are located and try to catch anyone who may be running off with the serum, once secured everyone evacuate immediately and meet at the jet. Everyone clear?” He asks strictly, looking toward the teams, and they nod affirmatively.
“Okay, move out!” he shouts, rushing for his shield and jumping out of the plane; you land quietly outside the building, shed the parachute off, and get into position.
“Okay, on my mark, go!” Clint whispers harshly; the three of you move as a unit, sweeping every corner, taking quiet steps, instincts on high alert; as you move through the building, you can’t help this nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach; something doesn’t feel right, you’re halfway through the building, and not a single enemy has been spotted.
“Guys, I don’t like this,” you say lowly over comms, hairs on the back of your neck standing straight.
“Let’s just keep moving so we can get out of here,” Clint says, readjusting his grip on his pistol while Wanda grows increasingly worried, palms becoming sweaty, the tension hanging in the air.
“Cap, you guys got anything on your end?” Clint asked over comms, his eyes scanning the suspiciously empty room.
“Nothing over here; keep your eyes peeled; everything about this feels wrong,” Captain uttered, uneasy hanging off every word; you signal you are going to have a look around at the team and break right; you creep into a dark room littered with papers, it looks like everyone just got up at left, you spot a computer playing footage on a loop, you walk up and watch, it’s your team landing outside.
“It's a trap! They know we're here!” You screamed over comms; you reached for your gun but felt something hard press against your back.
“Don't even think about it,” a deep voice said coldly as they pulled you against them roughly; you kept your hands in the air, your heart beating out of your chest; they ran their hands over your body, removing any possible weapon.
“What’s the plan now?” You ask coyly, looking over your shoulder slightly.
“Turn around!” He boomed, patience wearing thin; he pushed the gun against your head, “Walk,” he said, shoving you with the weapon, and you walked carefully toward the exit.
“Y/N, where are you?” Steve asks, trying not to sound as concerned as he is; you trudge toward the exit and swing it open
“Hiya, Captain,” you call, looking at him with pleading eyes. Steve’s face breaks your heart; it’s as if you told him the worst news of his life. The assailant grips you by your neck and pulls you close, holding the gun to your temple.
“What’s wrong, Captain? Cat got your tongue?” He said smugly. Steve said nothing, his eyes remaining planted on you as panic started to work its way across your chest, your hands clawing at the arm tightening around your neck, the assailant laughing at the way you struggle to breathe.
“I'll keep it brief and tell you what I want: a trade, the soldier for your newest recruit," he said arrogantly, walking you both closer to Steve
"Don't do it!" you say anxiously, looking at the team with all their weapons drawn and pointed in your direction; you shift your weight uncomfortably, trying to think of any possibility that doesn't end with you injured or dead, Steve looks back at the rest of the team and then back at you, time moves slow, your skin stings with the bite of the cold winter air, and you hear your blood rushing through your ears like crashing waves, when the assailant jerks suddenly, he fires a shot in the air.
"It's now or never, Captain!" He yells, shoving the gun aggressively into your temple; you close your eyes, accepting your demise, and you open your mouth to say something, but the sound of a gunshot cuts you off; your body tenses, and you wait for the pain, but it never comes, you finally open your eyes when you feel Steve's arms wrap around you, Steve's face is filled with concern, you see his mouth moving, but you don't hear anything, Steve grabs your arms and shakes you lightly, your hearing fades in.
"Y/N! Are you okay? Are you hurt? Oh my god," he blubbers, tears welling in his eyes; he pulls you in for a fiery kiss, holding you as you'd slip through his fingers; he pulls back slowly and looks deeply into your eyes.
"Are you alright?" He asks, panic having left his body; he glides his hands down your arms and holds your hands, interlacing your fingers.
"Yeah, I'm okay, just shaken up," you say reassuringly, pulling him into a hug. You close your eyes, inhaling his scent, losing yourself in the comforting aura that is Steve, and then you hear someone clear their throat; your eyes shoot open, landing on the whole team just staring at you and Steve; you jump back and hit Steve playfully on the chest.
"Steve, they saw us!" You whisper harshly and turn him around, hiding behind his big frame; he clears his throat and speaks
"Uh..." he mutters; he suddenly reaches behind himself and grabs your hand, pulling you next to him and wrapping his arm around your waist.
"We are dating." He said confidently, chin high; there was a long pause as the team looked around at each other, and then you heard a squeal; it was Wanda squealing with happiness, running towards you with a broad smile and open arms, she practically tackled you to the ground, squeezing the life out of you.
"Oh, Wanda, I can't breathe," you choke out, gently smacking her arms.
"Since when?" Sam asks, walking up to Steve and patting him proudly on the back.
"6 months ago," Steve says brightly with a smile, pulling you against him.
"I've known for four months," Natasha says cooly
"How?!" You and Steve say in unison, looking at each other. Natasha smirked and walked closer to you both, placing one hand on each of your shoulders.
"You guys should probably not fall asleep in each other's arms if you don't want anyone to find out." She says matter-of-factly, walking away and leaving you both stunned. "Congrats," she shouted back as she walked into the quinjet.
"Let's move out, team!" He shouts, grabbing your hand gently and walking you both onto the quinjet.
#steve rogers x y/n#marvel#marvel x reader#steve rogers fluff#steve rogers x you#steve rogers one shot#steve rogers imagine#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers fanfiction#steve rogers#steve rogers fanfic#steve roger fic#captain america x reader#captain america#marvel fluff#marvel one shot#marvel fanfiction#marvel fanfic#chris evans character x reader#chris evans character fanfiction#chris evans one shot#chris evans x you#chris evans x female reader#chris evans fluff#jennys.work
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youtube
Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared
The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!
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link to article. this shit is literally breaking my mind rn. why the fuck does a professor lead an nypd intel division. why the fuck does said intel division have an office in tel aviv. why the fuck is zionism and policing so heavily integrated into college campuses that shit like this is allowed without question (i know why)
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Questioning | Tim Bradford | The Rookie
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five
“Regina was there that day… the day (Y/N) disappeared.” Williamson said, keeping his eyes away from the steely faced detective Harper who sat questioning him. He could have felt her loathing from a mile away. He couldn’t blame her though, he loathed himself just as much, but even so, he couldn’t look at her. “She had some men, guns for hire, I recognised some from previous arrest records-“
“I will need names.” Harper interrupted.
“Sure sure, anything.”
Nyla took her pen out to make note of the former detective’s confession. “Anyway, continue.”
“She brought a file. Photos. She gave them to her, (Y/N) that is. I saw only a couple from where I was. It was a wedding photo of some kind. And one where the dude in it… it was the uh one who arrested me. Tom…?”
Williamson took a moment to readjust himself to the best he could with the cuffs on. “That’s when Regina started talking about getting what’s owed to her. She said something about her husband losing everything because of her… or maybe someone else. It was all so long ago.”
“Her husband, Carter. died in a police raid five weeks after Regina Diaz.”
“Then one of the men aimed the gun. And I ran. I heard a shot but I was gone by that point.”
Harper hummed, looking at the mirror behind her where she knew Tim waited. She didn’t need to see him to know what he was thinking. He had been in that second raid, he had arrested Regina. He had been the one to cause all this. Harper tore her gaze away and back to Williamson again. “When did you next speak to (Y/N) again?”
“Three, maybe four months later she called me. That file had photos of someone. Regina made an offer. She would spare his life but she would hunt (Y/N) down. She would take away his wife like he had taken her husband.”
“So that’s why she stayed away… as to not endanger her husband?”
“Initially.”
“Initially? What does that mean?”
“Around seven months ago, she caught wind of their new operation, she said that she had to finish what she started. I last heard from her five weeks ago, she said that she was making a plan to intervene on their next shipment; she said it was going to be their biggest yet.”
Harper looked up from her notepad, Williamson’s words rushing through her mind. The Diaz family operation has been one of the biggest threats to the war on drugs in a long time. They had gone quiet after Carter had died, it was thought that the rest of them had gone to prison or dispersed into lower ranking gangs. They hadn't been important enough to keep constant eyes on. But they had rallied together, Nyla could tell from the information Williamson provided that they were going to take back what was once theirs and try to expand their control of the drug flow in Los Angeles.
“When was this shipment meant to move out?”
“The twentieth of this month.”
“That’s two days from now.”
—---
Tim found it almost fascinating how quickly and effectively the LAPD could pull together an operation when one of their own was in danger. Multiple officers came together on their days off and some even came from other divisions across LA county. Bodies moved through the station, each with the same purpose, they were here to save her, they were going to save his wife.
“Officer Bradford,” Tim turned around at the sound of Commander West speaking, “Can I have a word?”
Tim nodded before following the Commander into Sargent Grey’s office. He remained standing as West spoke.
“We have gotten in contact with a few CI’s. All of the intel seems to line up. We have called in the metro division, and have federal agents on stand-by. As you know, we have a full house of officers lining up for this bust…”
“Sir, if I may? What are you trying to say?”
West sighed, trying to pick his words carefully. He had been the one to clear all of the paperwork and the legal grey areas when Tim had originally worked on his wife’s case. “What I'm saying is that you are not needed here. Your judgement is impaired, this is too personal. If we have any chance of bringing Detective Bradford home where she belongs, we need to have everybody who is in on this to have their mind focussed on taking down this cartel movement.”
“I have to be there. I can’t leave this to anyone else. I- I failed her once, I can't do that again.”
“I understand. I really do.” West paused again, this time he took a moment to collect himself. “If this was my wife, I would be just as determined to be on the front lines of this too. But we don’t have margin for error here. So I managed to get a compromise. You will be there, and someone else will be in a car parked just under a block away. When we locate Detective Bradford, you will be called in to retrieve her.”
Tim nodded at his words, trying to bite back the urge to argue with him. He knew that West was trying his best to find a compromise between the grey areas of the LAPD Code of Conduct and Tim’s own drive to do what it takes to save (Y/N). “Who will I be with?”
“Whoever you want.”
“Put me with Chen, but please make sure Lopez is on the front lines of this. (Y/N) trusts her completely.”
“I can do that. Thank you, Bradford, for being so compliant with this… I know it must not be easy for you to take a step back from this operation.”
“No, it isn't.” Tim said, moving towards the door. “But I will do anything to make sure she comes home, even if it means I have to trust others to do what I couldn't.”
“You can trust us, and you will be there for her.”
“I know. Nobody could stop me from doing that, Commander, not even you.”
Part Five | Part Seven
Series Masterlist | Masterlist
Tags: @xceafh @kmc1989 @buba424
Tags are open :)
#tim bradford imagine#tim bradford x reader#tim bradford#the rookie#the rookie fanfic#chiefdirector#bottom of the river
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How is this changed if the actions taken by Musk caused the deaths of soldiers in the alliance America is part of? And how is this changed if after having calls with Vladimir Putin, Musk starts advocating publicly for Ukrainian surrender? And what if he is making money off this?
And what do we do with the reports that Musk privately acknowledged that he was “in” the Russia-Ukraine War—but not, per the evidence we currently have, on the same side as America?
Is there some reason the House GOP is scared to investigate this? Or DOJ? What am I missing here?
How is all this inflected by the data confirming Musk complies with the demands of hostile foreign governments at a far higher rate than his Twitter predecessors did? And how is that inflected by the fact that his Twitter coowners are autocratic Saudi butchers allied with Russia?
And in the midst of all this he comes out publicly and tells 150 million followers to vote Republican? At a time we know both the Russians and the Saudis have secretly interfered in American elections on behalf of the Republicans? And then he starts making all sorts of changes...
...to what is more or less a public utility (even if it is privately owned) that benefit hostile foreign governments, agents of hostile foreign governments, American disinformation agents operating as “useful idiots” for hostile foreign governments, and anti-American Kremlinists?
And as I recall, didn’t he at one point threaten to stop providing resources to the American government that he’d previously provided *while* he was simultaneously advocating for a Ukrainian surrender following multiple phone calls with Vladimir Putin? Like—that seems really bad?
Again, I’m not an expert in this, but I’m asking at what point Musk runs afoul of FARA? Or the Logan Act? Or something rather more serious that relates to military conflicts in which the United States is involved? All of this seems really serious to me and everyone’s ignoring it.
America just went through an eight-year period in which a narcissistic sociopathic far-right White male billionaire colluded with Russia and the Saudis to interfere in our elections and advance illegal Russian adventurism. Is it just me or is the exact same thing happening again?
(PS) Obviously I’m leaving a ton of things out here, e.g. the fact that Musk, like Trump, has repeatedly been accused of fraud, or that Kremlin policy inside the U.S. is to foment racial and religious divisions to weaken America... and Musk has been doing exactly that on Twitter.
(PS2) Are we sure we’re not in the middle of a national security situation here? Is it wrong to think the Senate Intel Committee should be holding hearings to find out what Musk has been doing secretly with the Russians—and whether or how it’s connected to Twitter and the Saudis?
(PS3) If Elon Musk will do the bidding of Vladimir Putin in terms of disabling Ukrainian military equipment and proposing that Ukraine surrender a good portion of its land area to Putin and his war criminals, what *else* is he doing at the bidding of the Kremlin or Saudi royals?
(PS4) When we see Musk simultaneously pushing the “Ban the ADL” hashtag even as hostile foreign agents intending to cause chaos in the U.S. are doing the same thing, and we know who Musk is holding secret calls with... uh, isn’t that all super concerning from a NatSec standpoint?
(PS5) And not for nothing, but many of you will remember the major media report I just posted in which Musk confesses that he wants to “take over the world’s financial system.”
Uh, for whom? Will he seek to benefit Russia and Saudi Arabia and harm the United States in that, too?
(PS6) Remember how Trump led with racism and antisemitism and other forms of ethnic and religious bigotry that caused *chaos* in the United States, only for us to learn he was in cahoots with Russia and the Saudis?
Does that not feel... familiar, now?
I have some concerns here.
(PS7) I’ve never claimed to be an expert in these particular areas, which are a subspecialization within federal criminal practice that very rarely comes into play. But I certainly—as a citizen and voter—am wondering why the *hell* we’re not having congressional hearings on this?
(PS8) There’s no question whatsoever that Congress has an obligation to exercise its oversight responsibilities very aggressively here—as if I’m understanding correctly Elon Musk has a defense contract. The revelations in the new book about him are therefore very f*cking serious.
(PS9) And remember how Trump always accuses others of what he has just done or is about to do? Just as concerns that Musk could be doing the bidding of hostile foreign nations arise, he starts threatening to sue others for “controlled speech.” We have seen this playbook before...
(PS10) I would think the FBI, DOJ, FTC, FCC, NSA, SEC and *many* others would want to be all over this situation right now. Instead we are getting radio silence. Or, not radio silence, but Musk and his allies pushing racial and religious division inside the U.S. on a daily basis.
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When It Rains [Javi Peña]
My entry to @undercoverpena April Showers Challenge that I discovered randomly after talking to @pedroschka about wanting to write something similar. And while, Jo kinda closed the challenge, it's still officially 30th of April where I am, so, voilà.
pairing: javi peña x reader
w/c: 1,5K ish
warnings: mild cursing but it's just a fluff, overall safe to read, Javier experiences love at first sight should be warning on it's own but oh well.
Javier Peña hadn’t thought that it might rain. But then again, no one in this city ever did.
And yet, as if to mock him, the rain finds him anyway. A shower of rain bullets as though the skies themselves were at war, drenching the thirsty asphalt and showing no mercy to anyone caught beneath its relentless assault.
Seeking refuge under the narrow awning of the closed fruit vendor across the offices, Javier's fingers, jittery with nerves, fumble through the cold to pull a cigarette from its nearly crushed pack. It is soggy and limp when he finally manages to do so, yet placing it between his lips feels like a minor victory, pathetic as it seems. His attempts to light it, however, fail miserably—the wind, too cruel, mocking his weak efforts with gusts that make the flame dance and die before it could catch.
Defeated, Javier stuffs the ruined cigarette back into its pack. Crans his neck upward, staring into the relentless downpour of the dark, wet sky, and curses again.
Javier knows it’s late. Absurdly so—the kind of late reserved for ghosts and the lost, and standing there, shivering slightly and with his patience fraying at the edges, Javier feels like neither. Because all he feels is longing to go home. Where, within the confines of his four walls, he can find some semblance of peace, even if it often feels like little more than a stage for his unrest.
But home seems like a world away tonight, his jeep abandoned around the corner on a street now succumbing to rising floodwaters.
And he knows he has no need to be out there, exposed and weary—a quick sprint across the street and a shove through a door would land him back in the bullpen. Yet, the thought of returning to that fluorescent-lit purgatory makes his skin crawl. The oppressiveness of it all—the endless paperwork, the sprawling maps of drug routes stretching across his desk like an atlas of despair, the corkboard plastered with faces that seem to mock his distance from the resolution he so desperately craves—repel him far more than any storm could.
“Hey!”
Cursing louder than he intended, Javier’s hand is quick to reach for his gun, tucked into the waistband of his jeans. But then, his eyes meet yours and he hesitates—not out of fear, but surprise when you grin at him and shuffle closer, lifting your umbrella to cover both of your heads.
And then you smile—soft, tentative, yet disarmingly warm. It hints at something brighter, something warmer, and for a moment, Javier finds himself wondering how it would look fully unfurled, in its most radiant form.
He blinks the thought away at the same time as you speak to him again. “What are you doing out here?”
Javier bristles at your voice, tinged with concern, and then makes a gruff noise as he sizes you up. “Who the hell are you?”
His reaction makes you look down at your shoes briefly, as if trying to shield your disappointment from his harsh gaze. “Oh, I guess you don’t remember me?”
“Am I supposed to?���
“Well, yeah—I guess…,” you trail off with a shrug as you look back up at him. “Intel Division,” you quickly supply, deftly producing a lanyard with your DEA credentials from beneath your yellow windbreaker. “We work—”
“—I know what Intel does,” he interrupts brusquely. And Javier knows that his tone is more abrasive than necessary, but something about you, your hideous yellow coat, and your behaviour is strangely disarming. He isn’t sure if he finds it weird, scary, or if it’s turning him on. So, in order to compose himself, Javier nods to himself. Wishes he had a cigarette he could smoke. Lastly, he asks, “You new around here or something?”
“Nope,” you reply, your smile returning briefly. “Been here for a few years now.” You stop as if trying to figure out your next words. “We usually have briefings together, so I thought you’d—well, nevermind. Why are you here?”
“We do?” Javier asks, curiosity getting the better of him.
“We do, what?”
“Have briefings together?”
Your answer is a nod. “Yeah. I often sit across from you.”
At this, Javier’s expression changes slightly, and with a mix of embarrassment and perhaps a tinge of frustration crossing his features he looks away from you. Then, with his brows knitted together, he glances back at your face—his brain sifting through his mental directory of mugs and names, quickly finding none that match yours.
You chuckle.
“It’s fine, seriously, don’t sweat it,” you reassure him with a gentle voice, “I know I’m not that memorable,” you joke, waving your free hand around your face, but Javier only frowns at that. But, you ignore him, tucking your exposed hand back into the pocket of your jacket. “So, why are you out here?”
Javier sighs. Runs a tired hand over his face in a frustration that never quite went away. “My car—didn’t look like it’s going to rain this morning.”
“It never does here,” you supply mirthfully. “Where did you park it?” Javier doesn’t answer, but simply waves his hand towards the general direction where his jeep sits. “Great. Let’s go then.”
“Where?”
“To your car,” you grin up at him, gesturing in front of you.
—
Unlike Javier, you seem almost indifferent to the storm, your demeanour unfazed by the downpour. Yet as a particularly heavy cloud bursts above, Javier can’t help but note the slight falter in your steps, the struggle to hold the umbrella over both of your heads against the rebellious wind.
“Here, let me hold it,” Javier declares more than offers, his hand reaching to take the hold of your umbrella before you can protest. And even though it’s a simple gesture, the brief hand contact sends a subtle, warm jolt through him—a sensation that lingers unsettlingly long. “Better?”
“Yeah, thanks,” you breathe out, returning his gaze.
Javier quickly looks away.
The outline of his jeep materialises in the distance, a dark silhouette against the hazy veil of rain, but the journey to it feels overwhelmingly long. Javier's mind attributes the stretch to the silence between you, an oppressive, stifling thing that seems to thicken with each step. And even though he has never been one for small talk, he finds himself wanting to fill the void, to somehow bridge the gap, but he struggles to find the right words. And the ones he finds disappear before they could form into coherent sentences.
"It's okay," you say softly, your voice cutting through his reverie, as if sensing his discomfort. "We don't need to talk. We can just walk."
So walk you do, until at last you arrive at where his car is parked, the lone steel frame glistening with a slick coat of rain. What follows is an awkward moment as Javier’s hands pat down his pockets in a frantic search for his keys.
"Fuck, I'm really sorry," he mutters, relief and frustration mingling as he finally feels the metal contours of the key in his grip.
A dismissive wave from you and a brief smile of his later, you step back to give him room to open the door. As smooth as possible and avoiding any more rain on his neck, Javier slides inside, shivering as his body stills against the cold seat. Then, he glances up to voice his thanks, only to see your figure retreating—silhouette melting into the rain, causing him to feel a sudden tug at his heart—an unfamiliar sensation that’s filled with a sudden, inexplicable reluctance to let you go just yet.
Thus, Javier finds himself cranking down the window with haste. “Hey!” he calls out; sharper and louder than intended. But, it makes you stop and turn; look at him, and Javier’s heart skips for just a beat as he offers a tentative smile, propelled by a rash impulse. "Come on. This rain isn’t letting up anytime soon. Let me at least get you somewhere dry."
You hesitate for a second, your gaze drifting to your shoes for a moment before meeting his eyes again. And then, with a small smile, you’re nodding and making your way back to him—the umbrella hardly more than a token shield against the rain.
With soft words of gratitude, you settle into the passenger seat, and Javier simply nods—a brief, uncertain smile flickering across his lips as he starts the engine. The familiar silence envelops the space between you again, yet this time it carries an odd comfort. One that Javier appreciates more than he cares to admit.
But while the quiet lingers, Javier’s mind races, sifting through memories, briefings, and faces of informants and colleagues—none of which align with yours. It’s frustrating and he hates it, thus, he finds himself stealing glances—once, twice, pulled by something beyond his control.
It's only when a red light forces him to a stop that he finally gives in to the urge to speak. “I’m Javier… Javi,” he says, as if to reaffirm his identity and anchor himself in familiar territory. “But, you probably know that.”
Glancing back at him, you give him a small, knowing smile. "Yeah, you were the topic of my first briefing when I transferred here. Also, you don’t need me to remind you that you've got a reputation."
Javier chuckles, raising an eyebrow. "Hope it's a good one."
Your smile only widens to the exact point where Javier wants it, confirming that it’s, in fact, unabashedly beautiful—just as he assumed.
"Depends on who you ask, I guess. Men think you're a hero. Women, on the other hand, not so much."
A moment of strange panic flickers through Javier, but you sigh contentedly, your gaze drifting back to the misted window, deliberately steering clear of that particular rabbit hole—at least for now.
"Look," Javier starts again, his voice a blend of confession and curiosity, "I gotta admit, I'm drawing a blank here, and I’m usually better with faces." He pauses when you wave him off, but then persists softly, "No, really—I should remember. Especially those pretty eyes like yours."
You snort, giving him a look that mixes amusement with mild rebuke, but he just winks, finding himself strangely comforted by your dismissal of his compliment.
"You’ll live, Javi," you tease before finally telling him your name. And Javier repeats it, savouring the way it feels on his tongue, a subtle pleasure tingling through him as he acknowledges how much he likes the sound of it.
Pausing briefly, Javier steals another glance at you. “There’s a little place not too far from here,” he suddenly starts. “Open all night. Their food isn’t half bad, and the coffee’s strong. Thought we could head over for a bit, to dry off? Unless you’re not up for it.”
A moment of hesitation flickers across your face before a smile emerges. "Sounds good. I usually can’t sleep anyway... but only if it's not out of your way."
Something inside Javier’s stomach kicks. A gut-punch of pleasure that lines his insides with warmth that he doesn’t bother to dismiss. “It usually is, but I feel like going out of my way tonight.”
—
tags: @pedroschka, @itscolleenhere, @idontcareihavenoidea
#javi peña#javier peña#javi peña x reader#javier peña x reader#javi peña x you#UndercoverAprilShowersChallenge
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youtube
Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc
The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!
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