#intel report «¤» ( in character | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

clockwayswrites · 6 months

Text

Like Betta Fish Do Part 27

Wc:3213 Masterpost CW: Hospitalization, discussions of temporary character deaths

The hospital was pure chaos. Reporters were at the door, police were at the reporters to stay back, and the Waynes were pacing.

None of them had wanted to be left behind, not with this, so as soon as those who had been playing hero changed, they all headed for the hospital. Bruce had met them in a waiting room that had been cleared out for their use. There were benefits to having a wing named after one’s father.

“Clear,” Babs said as she and Tim finished typing on the tablets that they had brought from WE. “CTV cameras will just loop past this room.”

“There are no bugs. I’ve activated scramblers for parabolic mics or anything, not that they should be able to get to us in here anyways,” Tim said.

“What happened?” Steph asked, looking to Bruce.

Bruce looked to Dick. The rest of the eyes followed.

Dick sighed.

“It’s not my secret to tell.”

“I believe we are past that, Richard,” Damian snapped.

“Why don’t you start with a debrief of tonight,” Bruce coached.

“I was almost in suit when Babs came over the comms, telling us they took Danny. I started to look for suspicious vehicles given the time frame. I wasn’t successful at spotting anything before the…” Dick was really glad that Jason was back with Danny and not here listening to this. “…before the trap went off. I saw one of the buildings go dark.

"Cass joined me. We took out the henchmen at the van and leading into the building. Based on intel, I headed straight for the basement. The place was flooded an inch or two deep. They broke the sprinkler valve, I believe. Danny was tied to a metal chair bolted in the middle of the room. A wire had been tapped into the circuit breaker and was at Danny’s feet. His shoes were off.”

Dick swallowed hard and let his arms drop to his side. That urge to punch something was still there. He flexed his hands and then purposefully relaxed them.

“I was sure he was dead, but when I called out his name he moved. I made sure the circuit breaker was off, disconnected the wire, and went to him. He was…” Dick snorted, shaking his head. “He was making jokes. He was conscious but not fully lucid. Confusion, slurred words, panic. He didn’t want to be taken to the hospital. He thought they would cut him open if ‘they knew’. I was able to convince him to come by saying we’d get Leslie and that we’d protect him.”

Damian scoffed. “Of course we will.”

“Case?” Cass signed, face scrunched up in question.

“And asked Alfred to bring a case, one that Jason put in the Cave that Danny gave him,” Dick confirmed.

“What’s in it?” Tim asked.

Dick just shook his head.

“He’s a Meta, isn’t he?” Duke asked. The question was quiet, but it felt loud in the tense air of the waiting room. He wasn’t staring at the ground rather than any of them. “Something new. Maybe something dangerous or, worse, something useful. It’s why he’s afraid they’ll cut him open.”

Steph cussed and turned to punch the wall only to be stopped by Tim.

“Is he?” Tim asked.

It seemed like there was no getting out of this question. “’Close enough’ was the way it was put when I stumbled in on… the secret.”

“Are his powers electricity based?” Babs asked. “Is that how he survived?”

Dick laughed. The bitter sound made a few of the others flinch or grimace.

“No, opposite, really. He’s weak to it. I think they only got him because they used tasers and it really knocks him out.” I’m so sorry, Danny, Dick thought. “Danny… Danny’s been electrocuted before when he was a kid. It killed him, however briefly. Really… I’m not sure if it didn’t actually kill him again tonight.”

This time Tim didn’t stop Stephanie from punching the wall.

“See, that wasn’t so bad,” Dr. Thompkins said as she peeled off her gloves.

Danny just glared at the IV in his hand that had been carefully tapped down and put under a mesh glove.

“It’s like she doesn’t trust me,” Danny whispered loudly to Jason.

“She’s right not to,” Jason said.

Danny pouted at him.

“Fish,” Jason said with a wet chuckle. He ran his hand through Danny’s hair again, which seemed to soothe him. “You said loudly and repeatedly that you were going to go out the window as soon as she stopped watching you or if she took your blood or if she put the IV in.”

“She did take it,” Danny whined.

“I did,” Leslie said, “and I also promised you no one else would get a hold of your blood and I meant it. I need a baseline for you though. It’s my job now to make sure that you’re well.”

“And no clones,” Danny said.

“And no clones,” Leslie said.

She shot Jason a look who just shrugged helplessly. He didn’t know enough about what went down with that to answer her questions.

Leslie gave up with a sigh. “You really went and found someone who fit right in with the family craziness I see.”

“Nah, Doc, he goes above and beyond.”

“Well… that should make for an interesting file.”

Danny flinched at that, hard enough for Leslie to notice and stop what she was doing.

“Danny, listen to me,” Leslie said. She waited until Danny met her eyes to continue. “No one else will see the file. It’s encrypted by Oracle, Batman’s tech person, and that’s understating them. I need to keep a file so that I can treat you and keep you healthy, that’s all.”

“No experiments,” Danny croaked.

Jason wanted to punch someone again.

“No experiments,” Leslie promised.

Danny gave a little nod, turned away from her, and all but climbed into Jason’s lap.

“Make sure he doesn’t pull that IV out,” Leslie ordered and went back to making her notes.

Not long after Jason had gotten him and Danny settled into the hospital bed, there was a knock at the door. Jason’s hand went immediately to the scalpel that Leslie had generously pretended not to notice Jason palming earlier. It didn’t matter that it was a knock Jason recognized, he wasn’t taking any chances with Danny right then.

Jason only relaxed when Dick had stepped fully through the door alone.

“Hey Danny, how are you doing?”

“Leslie took my blood.”

“Yeah, she does that,” Dick said. He was smiling, words cheerful, but Jason could see the cracks in his brother’s facade. “Alfred is going to be here in just a moment with the case. Can I send him in when he arrives? Or I can bring it myself? Or any of us. We’re all out there.”

Danny turned his head enough to be able to peer at Dick with one eye. “You’re worried.”

“Yeah, little fish, we’re all pretty worried. We care about you,” Dick said gently.

Jason resisted the urge to kiss Danny’s pout away as he shifted his gaze from Dick to Leslie.

“Can they come in?” Danny asked.

Leslie pursed her lips. “Only for a half hour. After that, it’s only Jason and one other allowed at a time and that’s only because I want Jason to try to get some rest too. Whoever else is in here is on a minimum two hour shift so not to wake you up every five minutes.”

“Yes ma’am,” Dick chirped.

“And tell them to keep it calm,” Leslie called after Dick as he slipped back out the door. She sighed and shook her head before focusing back on Danny. “Now, there will be nurses who come in.”

“Noooo,” Danny whined.

“Yes,” Leslie said. “They’ll just be taking your blood pressure, which they’ll know to expect to be low, and changing out your saline and pain medication. I’ll be back in the morning myself to check on your burns. Everyone who steps foot in this room will be approved by Bruce and I. Someone from the family will be with you the whole time, you’ll be safe in every way.”

Danny’s pout deepened before he sighed heavily and seemed to deflate. “Fine.”

“Thank you, Danny. Now please try to rest after the group leaves, both of you.”

“Sure, Doc,” Jason answered and sent her a smile. He’d have to do something to help her clinic out soon, she really went above and beyond for them tonight. He managed to get Danny turned around so that his boyfriend wasn’t buried face first into his pecs before his family invaded.

It seemed like everyone was really trying to listen to Leslie and they all filed in orderly and tucked themselves onto the couch and chairs and each other. Bruce and Alfred stayed standing.

“Hi guys,” Danny said with a wobbly smile.

Some of the family flinched at how ruined Danny’s voice sounded. The flinches weren’t obvious to be noticed by anyone by a Bat, except maybe for Duke’s, but they still happened and Jason noticed. They all looked wrecked, really, in various ways. One would almost think they had been the ones kidnapped and murdered tonight.

It was Jason’s turn to flinch at his own thoughts. Greedily, he soothed himself by pressing a kiss to Danny’s temple.

“Hi Danny,” Duke said back. “How are you?”

“You know, feeling a little extra crispy,” he joked.

The room seemed to lose all the air for a moment before Tim groaned. “God, there are two of them now. No wonder you’re dating Jason, you have the same morbid sense of humor.”

The tension in the room broke and Barbie even laughed. (They all ignored how the laugh was a little too tinged with hysteria to be truly happy.)

Alfred cleared his throat and stepped forward. “The case, Master Jason.”

“Ooh, is that…” Danny asked, zeroing in on the case.

“Yep,” Jason confirmed, popping the ‘p’.

Danny held out his arms, making grabby hands at the case. Alfred raised a brow, looking to Jason for permission, before he moved forward and handed over the case. Jason rested his hand on the lid before Danny could open it.

“So,” Jason started. He cleared his throat awkwardly, “no one freak out, okay? What’s in the case isn’t what it looks like. And… and we’ll explain?”

He wasn’t sure if they would.

He wasn’t sure if they could afford not to.

“We’ll explain,” Danny confirmed.

“Okay, Jay-lad,” Bruce agreed, though Jason could tell he didn’t know what he was agreeing to, other than trusting his son.

Jason took a breath and removed his hand. Danny flipped the lid open. It was innocuous at first, a simple black padded case. Then Danny plucked out one of the glowing, Lazarus green ectoshots and the stances of several Bats shifted.

“That is—” Damian started.

“Nope,” Jason interrupted.

“Jay—” Bruce rumbled.

“I’m sure,” Jason said. He glanced at Cass. “Really.”

“What are you going to do with it?” Tim asked, sounding a little strangled.

“Drink it,” Danny answered.

“Drink it?!”

Danny’s nose wrinkled. “Does everyone in this room have issues with that— what did you call it— Pit water?”

“Pit water or Lazarus water,” Jason said. He calmly ran his fingers through Danny’s hair as he made sure to not have a reaction to the ectoshots. Danny needed to drink them, he couldn’t have any of it spilled from misplaced panic. “And a lot of us, yeah. It’s… been a thing. My situation didn’t help any.”

Tim frowned at the vial, clearly itching to get his hands on it. “If that’s not Lazarus water, what is it?”

“Ectoplasm,” Danny sing songed and then just downed the vial to the wince of the room. A shudder ran through his body before he slumped bonelessly against Jason.

Jason plucked the empty vial from Danny’s limp fingers, pressed a kiss to his temple, and put it back in the case. “From best we can think without getting our hands on Lazarus water, they’re a bit related, but ectoplasm is a pure source where as whatever Lazarus water is, it’s fucked up. Beyond that, I think…”

Jason sighed and buried his face in the top of Danny’s head. He didn’t know how to explain the next part to his family. He didn’t know how to tell them he was still, at least a little, dead. He didn’t want to hurt them like that.

“Ectoplasm isn’t a miracle cure, not like it sounds they use Lazarus water for,” Danny said around a jaw cracking yawn. “Doesn’t work for normal people.”

“Does it work for you because you’re a meta?” Duke asked. The sympathy in his voice was hard to hear.

Danny’s laugh wasn’t any easier to hear. “Nope! I mean, like, sure how you count Superman as a meta I’m a meta, I guess. More a different species.”

Steph made an incredulous noise. “You’re an alien?”

“I wish,” Danny snickered. “I’m dead.”

“That is not funny, Nightingale,” Damian snapped.

Jason peered up at his bristling little brother. Demon brat really was already attached to Danny. “He’s not trying to be funny, Dami. Danny is half dead or, rather, half ghost.”

“Okay, which of your parents fucked a ghost?”

“Miss Stephanie,” Alfred chastised.

“Sorry Alfie,” Stephanie mumbled under Danny’s snickering.

At least having almost died (again) tonight saved Danny from being admonished too.

“Ancient, no, my parents hate ghosts,” Danny said.

“But you’re half ghost,” Babs pointed out, gently.

“Yeah. And there’s a reason that I changed my last name and don’t talk to them anymore, not that they know,” Danny said. He stretched out his arms, arching like a cat. Clearly the ectoshot was starting to have an effect. “No, I’m half dead ‘cause I died and then didn’t.”

“You’ve died before, Danny?” Bruce asked, voice carefully gentle in that way he used only when talking to his kids or those who were basically family through his kids.

“Yeah,” Danny sighed. “It was, um, don’t like talking about it. It’s a ghost thing. But my parents built a portal to the ghost’s realm to try and study them. It didn’t work, not at first. I stepped in it, tripped, hit the on button and bam… ten thousand volts of electricity later and I’m dead.”

Tim and Cass both reached out to stop Steph from moving.

“Thing is, the portal turned on,” Danny continued. “So I also got pure ectoplasm shot right through me. It brought me back, kinda. I’m a halfa; half ghost and half human. Half dead and half alive.”

“You’ve died by electricity before,” Bruce said into the silence of the room.

“Probably died again to it tonight,” Danny said with a casualness that had Jason tightening his arms around Danny. Danny just giggled. “But like I told Dick, I’m immune now.”

“You know,” Barbie said. She narrowed her eyes as Danny shrugged before she glanced to Dick. “And you knew.”

Dick sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Little wing?”

“Go ahead, Dick. I’m pretty sure you’ve connected all the dots now,” Jason said. Maybe it would be easier, no, smoother if Dick explained it. He was better at hiding his anger.

Though by the way Dick had to shift on his feet, maybe not. “I… I think I have. Then you’re…?”

Jason nodded.

“Fuck!” Dick twisted and paced to the door and back again.

“Master Richard!”

“Don’t be so harsh, Alfie,” Jason said. He couldn’t make Dick be the one to tell them; that had been a selfish hope. “Dick just put two and two together that if the ectoshots only help Danny because he’s dead—”

“Part dead,” Danny chimed in brightly.

“—then that means I’m still part dead too.”

“Jay-lad?” Bruce prompted after a tense moment, voice rough.

Jason just smiled sadly. “The Pits healed me. It sorta… filled in the cracks, but it couldn’t fix that whatever brought me back didn’t bring all of me back… or couldn’t bring all of me back. I think that’s part of why the Pits had such a hold on me. Not that it’s an excuse, but just… whatever. Point is, I’m a halfa too, even if I’m still healing enough to be a proper one.”

The family practically curled around each other in grief. Dick tucked Damian against his side. Tim slumped into Steph and Cass. Steph reached out to squeeze Bab’s hand. Bruce took an aborted step towards them. Even Alfred raised a hand to his mouth.

“I’m alright,” Jason assured them.

“You’re still dead!” Dick snapped.

“I’m half alive, that’s more than I was before,” Jason pointed out.

Dick hunched into himself at that, prompting Damian to give Dick an awkward looking hug.

“What all does that mean, being a halfa?” Bruce asked. He held up a hand as he paused and took a measured breath. “I don’t mean that as an interrogation. Right now, what’s important for us to know to make sure you’re both healthy? Or is there anything that we should avoid doing?”

Jason snorted. He appreciated the clarification, the attempt at being gentle, he did, but, “I know you want to know more than that.”

Bruce smiled, though the expression was more mocking himself than anything. “Of course I do. You know me, chum, I don’t do good with only pieces of information, but right now I’m not the important one. I can deal with some… unease so that we can focus on you and Danny.”

“Danny should drink at least another ectoshot in a bit. They help us heal as halfas. Dick knows because there was an incident where I got stabbed. Danny sensed my distress and showed up to give me an ectoshot. I had called Dick already. Which means Danny also knows about everything.”

“Danny sensed your distress?” Tim asked.

“It’s a ghost thing,” Jason said with a shrug, unsure how to really explain it. “It comes from ghosts having cores which are sort of their central organ.”

“You core?” Cass asked, clearly struggling to verbalize right then with how her nose wrinkled.

“I do. Or, I’m getting more of one. Because the Pits put me back together badly I was really messed up.”

“It’s coming in well,” Danny said sleepily. He yawned wildly (a little too widely) and turned to bury his face into Jason’s chest. “Pretty lava core too. It’s good to have close for healing. It’s warm and lovely.”

Jason snorted and kissed the top of Danny’s head. “Go to sleep if you can. You’ll need lots of rest.”

Danny huffed a mumbled protest, but Jason could tell that Danny was fading fast.

“We’ll talk more later, Jay-lad,” Bruce said as he finally let himself come close to help Danny and Jason better settle into the hospital bed to sleep.

“Yeah,” Jason said as he fought his own yawn as the head of the bed lowered. “Have to have Danny show you his ghost form, it’s really something.”

Tim echoed ‘ghost form’ quietly in the background as Alfred murmured something to the group.

“Do you want myself or Dick here for the first shift?” Bruce asked.

“Stay?” Jason asked. His eyes dropped closed as his dad ran a hand through his hair.

“Always.”

---

AN: a very tired taaaaaada. They got the bulk of the explanation! Though still things to learn and talk about. I was going to put in more bits, but this felt full the way it was! Next chapter more answers, more questions, and someone shows up.

I no longer tag people but you can subscribe on the masterpost.

#dp x dc #dead on main #like betta fish do

577 notes · View notes

chiara-hotel · 2 months

Text

𝖂𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉 𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝖇𝖊 𝖆𝖙 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕳𝖔𝖙𝖊𝖑 𝕭𝖆𝖘𝖊𝖉 𝖔𝖓 𝖄𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖘/𝖔

Yes, you work there. You could either work as the chef for mealtime or even a greeter whenever people come in to visit! Your s/o appreciates the help you give them while in the hotel.

Characters: Charlie & Vaggie

Yes, you are a guest. Along with your s/o, you attend the hotel to try to save your soul and go to heaven. While being there yourself you also want to help your s/o get into heaven so you both can meetup there.

Characters: Alastor, Angel Dust, Sir Pentious, Egg Bois

Yes, because you are forced to. Either your s/o is staying there and you love them so much you followed them, or your tied on a leash by a demon and can’t escape the chains.

Characters: Alastor (who owns readers soul) & Husk

Yes, as a spy. Your s/o sent you to go spy on the hotel under a disguise that you are a poor sinner wanting to redeem themselves. How far you take the act is your decision although you report to them every day on the progress. Why they sent you varies if they wanted intel on the people staying there or just wanted to checkout the place under your name.

Characters: Vox, Velvet, Carmilla, Adam

No, although you have visited in the past for various reasons! For your own curiosity or maybe even your partners curiosity, even so Charlie welcomes your visit with open arms.

Characters: Lucifer, Carmilla, Rosie

No, you have heard of the hotel existing although you have no intention of changing any morals of yours. Even your s/o thinks the idea is fairly ridiculous.

Characters: Vox, Val, Velvet, Adam, Zestial

No, you have or have not heard about the hotel, although you live in heaven so you are unable to attend anyway.

Characters: Sarah, Emily, Lute, Peter, Molly, Adam

#hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #lucifer x reader #charlie x reader #vaggie x reader #vox x reader #angel dust x reader #velvet x reader #rosie x reader #husk x reader #adam x reader #emily x reader #carmilla x reader

206 notes · View notes

bearhugsandshrugs · 4 months

Text

A Job Well Done – Gortash x gn!Reader

The giveaway fill for the lovely @snapo-wan! Thank you for the great prompt and I hope you'll enjoy this.

Read on AO3 | Explicit | Blowjobs, Deepthroating, Praise Kink afab but gn Reader

You're Gortash's scribe, and one of his favorites. After a particularly successful day, the Archduke decides to reward you. But he has something very specific in mind. So specific, that he decides to praise you through it...

It is late when you are hurrying through Wyrm’s Rock Fortress, on your way to Lord Gortash’s office. He gave you another project just last night, “With utmost importance” he declared, and as usual, you’d been diligent and efficient in gathering the required information he asked for.

After several months of service, you already know that he prefers to have any type of mission outcome be delivered to him immediately, no matter the time of day. When you first started working for him there had been an instance where you had waited with the report until after breakfast, even though you’d had all intel available hours earlier, and when Gortash figured out that you’d waited for him to wake and eat, he lectured you in front of the entire staff, your head burning with embarrassment and frustration long after.

So. You won’t make the same mistake twice.

Knocking at his door, you wait for the familiar “Come in” from the Archduke before you enter, quickly tucking a strand of hair behind your ear to look not quite as messy and exhausted as you feel.

“Ah”, he greets you when he glances up at you from his desk, “my favorite scribe.”

You can’t help but smile at the compliment – Gortash has been using more and more favorable words towards you over the past tendays, sending a small blush to your cheeks each time.

“I have the information you asked for on Duke Portyr, Lord Gortash”, you say without formalities, quickly making your way over to his desk to hand him the report. You know he likes it that way, a professional familiarity. Both of you know what you are here for, after all.

“Marvelous”, he replies, a genuine sense of excitement on his lips. “Do wait while I read it, will you? I might have another task for you.”

This isn’t unusual either. He often asks you to stay while he follows up on the documents you provide, immediately tasking you with something new afterwards. Over the many times this has happened before, you have come to appreciate the way his eyes settle on the pages, stern and focused. The way he licks his lips whenever something particularly interesting makes itself known. The way the corners of his mouth twitch up as he plots his next moves. If you’re being honest, watching him work is the best part of your job.

"Great work”, he mumbles when he finishes the last page, nodding. “Thank you.”

Tearing his gaze away from his work he looks up at you, taking you in without another word. His eyes fall over your body, slowly, intently, as if he’s seeing you for the first time. There’s a bit of tension building as he continues to stare, wetting his lips absentmindedly as he seems to consider his next steps.

Standing there in the middle of the room, being so shamelessly examined, you suddenly feel rather warm. Your face burns and your hands get sweaty, nervously expecting Gortash’s instructions. But he doesn’t tell you what’s next quite yet – instead, he stands up from behind his desk, sighing softly, satisfied.

“Say”, he addresses you head on and walks over to where you stand. “How do you feel about a promotion?”

Oh. Now this, you like. You’ve been working your ass off trying to make your way up the ranks, and you try to suppress the most blatant of grins as you gather the words for your answer.

“That sounds great, my lord.”

He smirks at the address, eyes sparkling with something intense. A tease? A challenge? You’re not quite sure, but it’s exhilarating.

“Then you shall have it”, he chuckles, and it’s the first time you hear him so relaxed. It’s so unlike him and absolutely in character all the same, and the deep sound of his amusement stirs something in your core. “Congratulations, dear.”

The last word drags out of his mouth almost obscenely, and you’re briefly confused, wondering if there is something else hidden underneath it all.

“Thank you”, you smile, taking a short bow like you’ve seen other, more senior members of his staff do. “I will not disappoint you, my lord.”

“I have no doubts about that”, he smirks, stepping even closer to where you stand. He’s all in your personal space now, and you smell his perfume, smell the light scent of cigarettes, smell him, as he looks at you. “Now, for your reward.”

Reward? What else could he give you? He already promoted you, after all.

“Have you ever tried Absinthe?”, Gortash asks, pushing past you to his side table. Pouring a dark green drink into two glasses, he continues: “It’s one of the rarest – and one of the strongest – liquors in Toril. I find it makes one more agreeable to life’s pleasures.”

You take the glass from him, clink it against his, then down the drink in one go: It’s sharp and hot against your throat, and you can immediately tell what he meant about Absinthe being one of the strongest drinks, the aftertaste reminding you of licorice. A small cloud of dizziness envelopes your mind, nearly as if you’ve had four, instead of one glasses.

“Life’s pleasures?”, you ask after a brief pause, picking up on his comment a tiny bit too late as the alcohol burns through your chest down to your stomach.

Gortash chuckles, the entire sound a tease. “Yes, dear. You’ve been working so hard. I think it’s time you get to enjoy yourself a little.”

Oh? You’re surprised, but not unpleasantly so. Spending time with the Archduke has been a wish of yours for a while, and your heartbeat picks up as you realize that this is likely what’s going to happen.

But Gortash pulls you back to reality as his deep voice echoes a command through the room: “On your knees then.”

Confused, you look at the empty glass in your hand, the floor, then back at him, but he eyes you sternly, slowly raising an eyebrow as you don’t comply.

“Don’t make me repeat myself”, he whispers, and the tone is low and dangerous.

You quickly set the glass down on his desk before kneeling down in the middle of the room. Banites had weird rituals. Lots of secrecy. Maybe this was all part of the promotion?

Gortash leisurely steps up to you and cups your face with his palm, gently pulling your chin up so you look at him.

“Yes. Well done. I shall forgive that little display of hesitation, but I’d appreciate it if it would not happen again. Understood?”

You nod, quickly, eager to please. “Of course, my lord.”

The way he looks at you is different from all the times before. You briefly wonder what he wants you to do – but the intention becomes clear as his hands find his belt, undoing his buckle and then his pants, letting them drop to the floor. Your mouth falls open in surprise.

His hand wraps around his cock, half-hard already, and he sighs as he gives himself a few tentative strokes. You’re impressed by his girth, eyes locked onto the way he drags the foreskin back again and again, getting himself hard within a short moment.

“I–” The words don’t find you, but you feel heat pooling down between your legs. To say you’re not turned on would be a lie.

“Look at me”, Gortash instructs, and you look up to see him wet his lips in anticipation. “You’ve been so efficient, so reliable. Show me how good you can be with this”, he looks down to his cock, then back at you, “and I’ll make sure you’re rewarded.”

Swallowing, you briefly consider if this is a test, but you don’t understand what it could be testing besides obedience. Plus, the way his cock stands hard at eye-level while you’re on your knees is so inviting…

You lean forward and Gortash, understanding that you’re ready to start, steps closer to you, letting his hand fall to the side. Bringing your lips to his tip and your hand to his shaft, you guide him into your mouth then let him drag back out. He feels heavy and warm inside your mouth, his skin smooth, and you massage him with your hand, adding a tighter pressure that your lips can’t match. Repeating the motion a few times until you taste the salty blend of precum on your tongue, you’re really starting to enjoy the way he’s hard for you, at your mercy, at your service .

“Good”, he sighs, and his hands find the top of your head as he starts guiding you, thrusting into your mouth with increasing need. “That’s it, dear.”

A soft whimper escapes your throat at the praise, and his cock twitches against the inside of your cheek in response. As he picks up the pace, holding you in place, you find yourself lost as to what to do with your hands – so you run them up against his thighs. He will likely enjoy that, won’t he?

But to your surprise, Gortash slows down instead.

“Why don’t you put those hands to good use elsewhere?”, he chuckles, languidly moving in and out of your mouth.

You sigh an unspoken question in response, not really sure what he could mean, but he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, freeing your eyes so that you can see him.

“Look at me”, he demands, and when you look up, straining with his cock still inside of you, he smiles. “You’re so good for me”, he praises, “can you be good for yourself, too?”

Oh. Oh.

Humming in agreement you direct your gaze down, trying to help you find the buttons of your shirt and the buckle of your belt. As you free yourself from your clothes, his movements slow down, and you don’t have to see his face to know that he is watching you intently.

Tentatively stroking yourself between your legs, you moan involuntarily at the sensation. You had been so focused on him, on servicing him, that your own arousal eluded you until now. But the way your finger circles your clit feels good, and it adds to the lust you feel at his full girth pushing through your parted lips again and again.

Gortash groans at the sight of you pleasuring yourself, and his hips bump against you with greed, pushing his cock to the back of your throat. Your gag reflex kicks in, briefly, and he pauses as you fight it. He caught you by surprise – you’re annoyed at yourself, you’re usually so good at this–

“Let's try that again”, he suggests, voice so low and mellow it sends even more heat to pool between your legs. “Relax.”

You take a deep breath and relax the back of your throat as he pushes back in, deeper, and this time, it works.

“Such a lovely mouth”, he sighs, and you feel his tip brush against the back of your throat. “Can you take more?”

You groan around his cock in agreement, temporarily torn between readying yourself for him and touching yourself, and you notice in passing that you’re steadily climbing towards the edge of a cliff you never thought you’d face when you walked into his office earlier today.

Gortash curses quietly under his breath as he bottoms in your throat, and you take slow, steady breaths through your nose as his cock glides back out of your mouth. Saliva drools down your chin, onto your breasts, and his hands tighten in your hair at the sight of it.

“Fuck”, he pants, continuing to fuck you, “you’re taking it so well, you’re beautiful, spit running down your chest, you’re–”

He moans as your tongue brushes along the underside of his shaft, interrupting his praise. You feel so hot, and you know you won’t last long this way, so you pause, stopping your own tease, just for a moment.

“Keep going, dear”, he begs, “use those clever fingers on yourself, show me how good you can be for yourself.”

His voice is breaking as he instructs you, and you can tell by the way his hips move jerkily and irregularly that he’s close as well.

When you reach back down between your legs, you whimper at your own touch. A few swift strokes, a couple of circles–

Moaning around his cock you tip over the edge, coming undone so forcefully he has to hold you by your head. Your voice vibrates around him, and he groans so loudly that it startles you, just as he twitches inside of you, spurting his cum deep down your throat.

When he pulls out of you, both of you are breathing heavily, sweat rolling down your foreheads and the back of your necks.

Gortash reaches down to cup your cheek, brushing a thumb over your lips. “Great work, dearest”, he sighs, and this time around his praise is filled with appreciation.

“Th-Thank you”, you reply, voice still hoarse, but you mean it. This has been rewarding in more than one way.

He chuckles and helps you up, then refills your glasses as you fix yourself. “Here”, he says, offering you your glass back, “Do consider staying a little while longer.”

#enver gortash #gortash x reader #gortash x oc #bg3 smut #my writing #reader is afab #forgot to add

361 notes · View notes

bunnysbrainrot · 8 months

Text

No Vacancy - Day Two

Characters: Sam Winchester x fem!Reader, Dean, Castiel

Content: Majorly plot building. Romantic/sexual tension.

Summary: In day two of your one-on-one case with Sam, you gather intel together. Once things settle down for the second night, Dean reveals some news. Sam realizes he’s made a huge mistake involving a lust spell.

*A/N: This chapter was getting a bit long, and I haven’t posted in a couple days, so this chapter is out early! Honestly I like the pacing of this a bit better so I don’t burn out. Y’all better be ready for the next chapter 👀

————

“Mrs. O’Connor, would you say that your daughter had any enemies? Anyone who would want to cause her harm?” Sam’s tone was filled with compassion as the woman explained the situation.

Her lips wobbled, “I-I don’t know. Casey was a sweet girl, she just got caught up in the wrong crowd, that’s all.”

“Did you see any changes in her behavior in these past few weeks?” You piped up, matching the softness of Sam’s voice.

Casey’s mother shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. You reached into the inner pocket of your suit jacket, handing her a pack of tissues. She gives you thanks and takes a moment before she speaks again.

“Not much. She was quieter, sure, but I thought, y’know, maybe she was depressed - she spent almost all of her time in her room. We were so close, and she just… distanced herself.”

“How so?” Sam asked.

Through tears, her voice broke, “Her whole demeanor changed, got… darker. She wouldn’t let me into her room anymore. That was where we had our movie nights…”

You nodded as you listened, glancing to Sam for a sign of a breakthrough, but his expression was muddled. A few moments later you were handing your personal number to Casey’s mother, and wishing her a good day.

Sam asked, “So, what do you think?”

“I think we should check her room, but we need to give her mom some time,” you replied, mulling over what could have caused Casey’s murder.

Your phone buzzed against your hand in your pocket. To your relief you saw a text from Casey’s mother: Thank you for your help. I’m glad Casey has people who care like you do.

You showed Sam the message. His eyebrows furrowed in thought.

“What do I say back?”

“Well, we need to mention looking at Casey’s room,” Sam detailed, “and that we’re happy to help further.”

Your fingers fiddled with your phone as you issued a reply.

Of course. I’m sure the police have done so already, but we were given instruction to inspect Casey’s room. Would you mind letting us look around later today?

The reply was swift: Yes, that's fine. I'll be home later this evening, 7 p.m. would be the best time.

Stuffing your phone back into your pocket, you updated Sam.

"She says we can come back at 7 tonight. Until then, we should probably look over the police report and see who might know what happened to her."

Sam nodded, "We'll head back to the motel and look into it."

The motel. The goddamn motel where you and Sam blurred the lines of your friendship. With any luck, he wouldn't mention anything of last night, or this morning.

It was the way it felt so normal to wake up with him, to be enveloped in his arms, his scent, his soft breathing before he woke. It was a one-time thing that wouldn't, and couldn't, happen again. It was a vow - a guarantee to yourself that you wouldn't slip up like before. You reminded yourself on loop until you reached the motel again.

—

Twenty minutes later, and you were still staring at your computer screen. The thoughts couldn't flow like they normally did with your research. Vague searches covered the screen, but nothing constructive.

'Casey O'Connor family' 'Casey O'Connor facebook' 'Casey O'Connor instagram' 'Casey O'Connor death’

The tension you held in the pit of your stomach turned over itself when Sam cleared his throat.

"Find anything yet?"

Your breath hitched in your throat. Maybe Sam hadn't given things much thought after all. His tone was his usual curious self, but those bright hazel eyes swallowed you whole.

"Uh- no, not yet," you stammered, "I was, um, gonna take a pause and go to the lobby. About the... room situation."

Sam's lips thinned into a terse smile. For him, he didn't care one bit if there was another room available. He watched you leave the room, cursing himself all the while you were gone. You returned with a nervous smile, sparking a hidden hope in Sam's chest.

"Still no other rooms. And no cots, either."

It was Sam's turn to remind himself that last night crossed a boundary. All he'd thought about today was you, regardless of how hard he tried to reroute his thoughts. The way you'd buried your head into his chest, how you murmured in your sleep, how delicate your body felt in his hands...

He snapped himself out of it again, muttering to himself.

"What'd you say?" You raised an eyebrow at him.

He shook his head, "Nothing, I'm just mumbling to myself."

You let out a soft laugh, taking a seat on the bed. The ache in your shoulders reminded you of the consequences of sitting hunched over on the floor.

"The least they could've done was give us a desk or something."

"That's what you get in a small town, remember?" Sam quipped, that goofy grin back in action. You rolled your eyes at him and settled into your side of the bed, laptop open across your lap again.

Sam leaned over to you, staring at your screen. Well, you weren't lying when you said things on your end weren't interesting. You turned your head, watching him scour the Google search you haphazardly thought up.

"I... didn't really know what to look up," you admitted flatly.

He let out a breathy laugh, glancing sidelong at you. Those damn eyes. Part of you dared to close the inches between you, to brush your lips against his as if it were nothing. One wrong move, and you could risk everything you'd made with him. You surveyed his parted lips, suddenly pulled back up to his gaze when he cleared his throat. You shook yourself out of your trance and gave him a muttered apology before he took your laptop.

Within seconds he found something substantial - report cards from school, Facebook posts, tagged photos on Instagram.

"How'd you do that?" You asked.

Sam pushed himself beside you to give you a better angle at the screen, "First thing you gotta do is have the full name. Otherwise, you're flooding your search with 'Casey O'Connor's' from all over the country."

His arm brushed against yours, but he didn't pull away. Instead he rested fully against you as his fingers flew over the keys, opening page after page of information. You chose to let go and ease into him, head dropped to his shoulder as you watched. Sam's fingers stalled more than usual with you now relaxed against him. It was his turn for his thoughts to escape him.

"So, um," you piped up, "what are we looking for?"

He cleared his throat, "Changes in behavior, maybe in stuff that she posted, grades dropping, anything that seems like a red flag."

Casey's most recent posts to Instagram caught your eye. After explaining your gut feeling to Sam, the both of you kept mental note that perhaps Casey did get involved with something sinister.

—

The two of you had gotten lunch, lazed about town, and stoped by Casey’s school by the time 7 pm rolled around. At the O’Connor house, you kept downstairs to talk with the family, while Sam searched Casey’s bedroom. It took about 30 minutes, and you two were on your way.

“What’d you find?”

Sam handed you his phone, the photos organized into a neat folder. You inspected each image, taking stock in each sign - herbs scattered around, countless candles, and bottles of dark liquid.

“Is that..?”

“Blood, yeah. Almost didn’t see them; one rolled out of the closet. And if you see here,” he trailed on, scrolling to another photo, “seems like a pretty intricate altar in there.”

“Figures why she wouldn’t want her mom in the room,” you added.

You handed the phone back to Sam, fighting back a shiver when his hand grazed yours.

Perhaps he noticed, too, judging by the way his cheeks blushed. In the evening sun, it was barely noticeable but you were almost certain of it. You packed yourselves into the car and drove back to the motel. You rummaged through your duffel bag the moment you stepped in the door, picking out a new outfit for bed. Sam kicked off his dress shoes and shrugged off his suit jacket.

“Bedtime already, huh?” Sam teased. You turned to him and smiled.

“Just wanna get cozy. Makes doing research much easier.”

Sam shrugged, “Not a bad idea, I’ll probably do the same when you’re done. Need to get out of this damn suit.”

—

The time on your computer screen read 11:43 p.m., meaning you and Sam had been continuing your research for at least two hours. It had taken a toll of you both, with eyes dry and shoulders aching. You rested your tired eyes and felt the pull of exhaustion start to take over.

Until Sam’s phone rang - it was Dean. Sam immediately placed his brother on speakerphone.

“How’s the lovely couple?” Dean asked. He wasn’t in the room, but you could tell he was smiling - a shit eating grin that irritated you as much as his brother.

“Very funny, Dean,” Sam replied smoothly, a twitch in his eyebrow showed his annoyance. “How are things going on your end?”

Castiel muttered in the background of the phone call. Dean stuttered over his words as he told Cas to stop interfering.

“Okay, so we did a little searching on Casey. I mean, well, Cas did most of it. Turns out, our lovely Miss O’Connor had gotten involved with magic.”

Sam’s eyes snapped to yours, then to his laptop where he had stored photos of Casey’s bedroom. As you two listened to Dean the dots connected to make a full picture.

It was Castiel’s voice that piped up next, “We have reason to believe that Casey was involved with something dark. It doesn’t look like your average witchcraft. We’re talking about more forceful magic - breaking and creating soulmate contracts.”

He continued, “Those kind of bonds, soulmates, are meant to take time. It seems that Casey’s spells were focused on peoples driving emotions. Feelings like fear, insecurity, lust, and mania. Anything that could make people act out, it’s been happening in her social circle.”

“So, basically she’s playing Cupid?” you offered.

“Exactly,” Dean confirmed, interrupting Cas, “we broke some of the spells, but it seems like Casey did all of her little projects at home. Hell, she sent the spells to her friends in the mail. Who knew you could Amazon Prime some witchcraft.”

You chuckled at the joke, rolling your eyes. Sam smiled at you with relief that this whole situation had blown over.

“So, what’s next?” you prodded.

“If you two didn’t see any weird hoodoo at Casey’s house, then everything should be all settled.”

Sam furrowed his brows, “But Casey was murdered, how did she die, then?”

Dean replied, “That’s the karma of it. Casey planted a sachet on her boyfriend - love spell gone haywire. He eventually went a little too love-crazy, and ended up killing her. Jealousy was the source of it.” His tone has grown sullen with the final piece of news.

Now with the extra details, you didn’t know how to feel. What happened to Casey had been horrible, and it had worked itself out in the end. It was the part of hunting that never settled well with you. Sometimes, you simply couldn’t save everyone.

“Got it. So we’ll head back out tomorrow to meet you at the bunker, yeah?” Sam confirmed.

Dean’s tone changed to playfulness again, “Actually, I need y’all to check out a case the next town over. Mind camping out a couple more nights?”

It seemed Dean’s request was a final verdict based on the way Sam pursed his lips.

“Yeah, no problem, talk to you later,” Sam ended the call. He threw his phone onto the bed and closed his laptop.

“You alright?” You asked him. Sam let out a soft sigh and looked toward his suit jacket by the door.

“I think I might’ve screwed up.”

You did a double take, “What do you mean? Dean and Cas figured it out.”

He raced over to the jacket, fishing through the pockets until he plucked a small bundle. Your expression dropped completely at the sachet in his palm. Sam returned to your side and let you examine it - a small brown sack you assumed held herbs, oils, and then some. The sigils across the fabric stumped you; they were nothing like you’d ever seen before.

“What is this, Sam?”

“One of her spells,” he said, defeated, “I wanted to examine it, to see if someone planted something on her. That was before we knew that Casey was the witch.”

“Okay, so, what kind of spell is it?” you asked further.

Sam reopened his laptop, silent as he furiously typed away. Image after image splayed onto the screen - the realization came over the two of you at once.

“Lust.”

He coughed at the word, unable to choose his next move. Sam leaned back and let his head thump against the wall.

“Can’t we just…. burn it? Toss it out?”

With bated breath you waited for Sam to say something, anything. Instead he just shook his head.

“By now I’ve had it on me for hours. We’re kind of past the point of burning it.”

“Okay, but the spells only work on feelings that are already there, right? It wouldn’t work unless you’re with someone you wanted to, um… you know.”

Sam’s breathing quickened with each passing second. His words came out with an overwhelming shakiness.

“It’s a little late for that.”

Hi again! Thanks so much for supporting my work, the next chapter will be out in the next couple of days!

- Bunny

#spnfandom #spn #supernatural fanfiction #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester

318 notes · View notes

morallyinept · 25 days

Text

A full character analysis on JAVIER PEÑA from the TV show NARCOS

I've created this as a point of reference when writing for Pedro's characters, and I hope you find it useful. Even if you just want to learn more about the character. 🖤

FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO'S CHARACTERS ANALYSED

FULL CHARACTER STUDY:

*Contains some comparisons to the real life Javier Peña, on which Pedro's Javier Peña is based on.

Basic Details:

Full Name: Javier Peña

Nickname(s): Javi, also referred to as "Peña" or "Jav" by Steve Murphy

Appears in: Narcos, 2015 (first appearance on screen in episode 1, season 1 at approx. 31:41)

Age (if known): Unconfirmed, suspected late 30's, possibly early-to-mid 40's

Sexuality: Straight - Javi was previously engaged to a woman named Lorraine back in Laredo, and also regularly sleeps with female hookers. He also hooked up with a female colleague, Katie, and slept with M-19 co-leader Elisa Álvarez, whilst temporarily hiding her in his apartment.

Nationality: Texan, Javi is from Laredo, Texas, with Mexican roots

Family: Father, Chucho Peña. There is brief mention of an aunt.

Spouse/Partner: No mention of a current partner.

Relationship Status: Currently single, was previously engaged to Lorraine.

Current Living Status: Alive

Languages Spoken: Spanish, English

Education: Presumed at least high school educated as he works for the government and the DEA as a Special Agent

Occupation:

Job Role/Title: DEA Special Agent, and later as Country Attaché

Special Skill(s): Combat training, guns and ammo, detective work, undercover work, anti-terrorism, anti-drugs trafficking, tactical

Notable Colleague(s): Steve Murphy, General Carillo

Distinguishing Features:

Tattoo(s): None

Piercings: None

Scar(s): None notable

Other Markings: None notable

Prominent Feature(s): Clean shaven face with a prominent pencil moustache

Injuries: Javi doesn't suffer any serious injuries. He does, however, endure very minor slips and stumbles when chasing down Narcos/suspects, most notably in season 3 when he chases down Franklin Jurado and jumps down a balcony, which leaves him limping for a few moments after as he runs.

Eye Colour: Brown

Hair Colour: Brown

Personality:

Traits: Determined, persuasive, adept

Javi is purported to be originally from Laredo, Texas. (The real life Javier Pena was born and raised in Hebbronville, Texas.)

Javi starts off as a special agent for the DEA, and then later becomes Country Attaché for Colombia, as titled on his business card we see in season 3. An attaché is normally an official, who serves either as a diplomat or as a member of the support staff, under the authority of an ambassador or other head of a diplomatic mission, mostly in intergovernmental organizations or international non-governmental organisations or agencies.

Narcos is set between the late 1970's until the early 1990's.

Javi appears to type at a slow to medium pace, using both his index fingers on the keys, and uses a typewriter when typing up his reports at his desk.

Whilst Javi tends to skirt the line of morals at times, it's clear that using any means necessary to capture Escobar is something he will entertain, and states himself, even if it means getting close to his enemies and playing on both sides. This is evident when he uses and provides intel to Judy Moncada and Don Berna, which then include the Los Pepe's murders, and ends up working with the Castaño's to get Christina Jurado back.

Javi is seen making the decision to gun down Gacha in the chopper, and states that he'll "sleep tonight" when asked if he's alright. He also shoots a man - who claims he's a politician - in the gut to get answers. This behaviour indicates that Javi will make choices that potentially risk him being the "bad guy" and putting his career at risk, in order to seek justice and bring down Escobar and the Cali Cartel. Subsequently his choices catch up with him when he's fired at the end of season 2, for his involvement with Los Pepes.

Whilst we don't see Javi physically cry during Narcos, he does get watery-eyed when talking to his father Chucho in the car on the way back from the wedding, and also when Carillo shoots a child at point blank range and Steve asks him what's going on. Javi deals with his emotions by either drinking (we see him frequent many bars and drinking what appears to be Whiskey), or by indulging in sex.

Javi appears to have had specialist combat training at some point in his career - we see him descending from a helicopter into the jungle via rope line, which isn't standard training for police or DEA, unless you're in a specialist unit.

The real life Javier Peña served as a deputy sheriff for Webb County sheriff’s office in Laredo from 1975 to 1984, and then continued his service with the DEA until his retirement in 2014. In the show it appears that Javi has his career solely in the DEA as there isn't mention of anything else. Steve states that he is a "lifer" in the DEA when they're both at the airport whilst Javi is waiting for his flight home back to the USA after his dismissal.

Javi is seen drinking coffee regularly, presumed black as he is not seen adding any milk/cream or sugar, and also drinks Whiskey. When Helena asks what drink he can offer her, he replies "Whiskey or water." Javi is seen ordering a Whiskey Dry at the bar in season 3. It appears Whiskey is his drink of choice.

Javi appears to shake and twitch his left hand fingers when he's apparently anxious. He does this a few times throughout the show. (This may actually be a trait that Pedro has himself, as he also does this for his character Joel Miller in The Last Of Us.)

Javi uses flirting as a way of persuading women to help him. He does this with Colleen by complimenting her nails when he needs her signature. He tells the Ambassador she's wearing a beautiful dress when he gets her to agree to his needs in season 1. He also tries it with Christina by flirting and buying her a drink with the intention of getting her to talk, although that goes south pretty quickly due to her loyalty to her husband.

Javi looks "after his own". He demonstrates this several times by telling Steve to say he knows nothing and that it was all Javi if Steve were to be questioned about Los Pepes. He also does this again in season 3 on the plane with Fiestl and his team, telling them that it all comes back on him if it goes awry. This indicates he wants to protect others.

Javi's dad says it means a lot to his "tía" that Javi came to the wedding. Tía is the Spanish word for Aunt.

Javi calls his father "dad", "pop" and "pops". It seems they have a good, close relationship as Chucho seems to know a lot about Javi's career, and they've seemingly had talks about it before. There is no mention of Javi's mother during the show.

Javi is generally a pretty good shot with a gun; he's able to shoot the guerrilla holding Christina hostage - whilst wearing night vision goggles, which is actually harder to do than without, due to depth of field - in the face on a single shot. However, he's not a good shot when shooting the pigeons, missing every one. He claims it's because he's never been duck hunting when Steve jibes him for it.

Javi's Smoking Habits:

Javi is an avid smoker and it appears he smokes from the brand Marlboro, determined by the box shown on Gabriela's bedside table, and glimpses of the red boxes he has throughout the show.

Javi is seen actively smoking - or with a cigarette, even if it's not yet lit - in a total of 44 scenes across all three seasons. (13 scenes in season 1, 25 scenes in season 2 and 6 scenes in season 3.)

In episode 1 of season 3, Javi explains to Lorraine he's quitting smoking as he chews Nicorette gum. However, later at the end of the same episode, he's seen smoking as he wakes up in bed with Katie asleep beside him. Season 3 is the the least amount of times he's seen smoking however, indicating he's possibly trying to stay true to quitting.

Javi mostly smokes using his right hand, holding the cigarette between his thumb and pointer finger.

Javi's Lovers:

Javi has several lovers and appears to know and frequent prostitutes/hookers regularly, using them for information, as well as hook ups. This is more apparent in season 1 and 2 and less seen and mentioned in season 3. Assumed because Javi's job is more senior in season 3 and he has more of a reputation to uphold.

It appears statistically, based off of physical looks alone, that Javi possibly prefers brunettes.

He sleeps with prostitute Helena Sotomayor in season 1 whom he uses and pays for information, and it seems he does have affection for her as he states "we get better each time we practice," indicating he sleeps with her regularly. She is subsequently attacked and viciously raped, before can Javi rescue her. His first sex scene in the show is with Helena on his loveseat in his apartment.

Javi then sleeps with M-19 Militia co-leader, Elisa Álvarez in season 1, when Connie brings her to Javi's apartment to protect and hide. Although they don't have a sex scene, they are shown naked in bed together. Javi is seen discussing getting her somewhere safe, however she states he isn't responsible for her. He nuzzles in and kisses her softly.

Javi has a regular hook-up with a prostitute named Gabriela in season 2. His second sex scene is with Gabriela in her apartment in her bedroom. Prior to that, he is seen wearing his jeans and smoking at the window, whilst she is naked on the bed, assumed after sex between them, and they talk together. Javi is seen rubbing her stomach affectionately.

Javi hooks up with a colleague called Katie in season 3. He doesn't have a sex scene with her, but wakes up in bed naked with her still asleep at dawn, and smokes a cigarette he takes from her purse.

Javi refers to some prostitutes by name and nickname in season 1, "Freckles" and "Vanessa", indicating he knows them quite well when he and Steve arrest McPickle at the private brothel, which Javi swears he doesn't know about with a smirk to Steve.

Javi was previously engaged to a woman back in Laredo called Lorraine. He tells Steve that he left her on their wedding day as he couldn't go through with it, and states "she's better off." Later we see Javi talking with her at the wedding they're both guests at in season 3 in Laredo. She has since remarried someone else called Randy. Javi apologizes to her indicating he still feels remorse for what he did. Lorraine says it's taken him "ten years" to apologise, indicating the length of time that has passed between them. Lorraine also appears to have had 2 children with Randy.

Javi's sex is generally affectionate, with lots of kissing, touching and nuzzling. He does this with both Helena and Elisa, and with both these women it's indicated that he possibly feels some genuine affection for them. He has a regular thing with Gabriela in season 2 and is seen talking with her about writing and why she continues to be a prostitute. Later however, he has rough sex with Gabriela after Carillo shoots the child in front of him. He has sex with Gabriela from behind and pulls on her hair.

Javi's Apartment:

Javi's apartment is a government issue apartment in Colombia. It's on the ground floor in an apartment block.

For an in depth look at Javi's apartment, please see these amazing posts already made by @pedropascalito

A look at Javi's Apartment & Another glimpse at the details

Fashion/Outfits:

Outfits - Javi's look is styled predominantly in the time period when Narcos is set - the late 70's, 80's, and into the early 90's. However, Javi's fashion very much clings onto the 70's vibe.

He wears lots of button down shirts in different colours, patterns and fits, with some being more fitted, and other's more square and loose looking on his frame. He often leaves his top few shirt buttons undone.

He wears mostly jeans, blue denim, that are tight fitting and slightly flared/bootcut around the ankle.

When he wears a suit, it's often a dark grey, brown or blue colour or a lighter pale shade, as was the style at the time. The suit jacket often appears a little too big for him, again as was the style back then with large shoulder pads and baggier slacks. He wears a variety of patterned ties when he wears a suit. He'll also leave the top button undone on his shirt and wear his tie slightly loose at the knot.

When he's doing field work, he dresses casually in shirts, jeans, boots and jackets. He wears green camo in the jungle when rescuing Christina.

He has a black, well worn leather jacket, and also several different styles of jacket, including denim and corduroy.

He wears a plaid shirt to the wedding in season 3, in homage to his Southern heritage.

He wears boots that have a small heel, and is seen wearing cowboy boots also in some scenes.

He wears aviator sunglasses with a yellow hue lens, which was a popular look in the 70's.

Accessories: Silver wrist watch worn on left wrist, handguns Beretta & Zoraki, handcuffs, aviator sunglasses, police badge. He uses a large sat phone and then later a smaller mobile phone in season 3. He carries his cigarettes, lighter and car keys in his jacket pockets. Javi has a pager in season 1 that he wears on his belt on his left hip. He also has a brown leather gun holster that he keeps on his left side in season 1, which is seen in a couple of shots.

Javi's Shirts range in colour and pattern, yet he mostly wears short-sleeved button ups. He often leaves the top two buttons open. A selection of some of his shirts:

Javi's Jackets include leather, denim, corduroy and sleeveless styles:

Javi's Suits are a selection of dark colours and pale two-piece combos, usually worn with a white shirt and selection of ties:

Javi's sunglasses are classic yellow lens tinted aviators, as was popular in the 1970's. He wears the same pair throughout all 3 seasons:

Javi's Tac Vest is a green combat military style, issued by the DEA, with a single front holster for his Beretta. He wears it during all three seasons:

Some accessories of Javi's seen in season 2 on Gabriela's bedside table: Marlboro cigarette box & blue lighter, silver watch, handcuffs in leather pouch, police DEA badge and his Beretta:

Weapons Used:

Weapon(s): (Exact weapons pictured below)

Javi has two primary hand guns as his main weapons.

In season 1, he uses a Zoraki 914 pistol, which is a smaller model.

In seasons 2 & 3, his main weapon is a Beretta 9mm magnum 92FS series. He keeps his Beretta in his left side desk drawer when at his desk. He also wears his Beretta tucked into his belt behind his back.

In the scene where Javi & Steve are shooting the pigeons, Javi uses a Benelli M3 Super 90 Shotgun.

Javi also uses a rifle in season 3 in the episode where he rescues Christina from the jungle. It appears to be a carbine rifle, possibly an M16 model, however the exact model is not 100% confirmed anywhere.

Modes of Transport:

Vehicle(s):

Javi owns and drives a Jeep Cherokee during seasons 1 & 2 - License plates are shown as REW-950, B35-17T & MOP-920. The license plate of Javi's Jeep Cherokee changes three times during the first two seasons. This is because private car license plates in Colombia were black and white from 1973 to 1990, while yellow and black plates introduced in 1991.

Javi owns and drives a 1995 Ford Explorer in Silver Grey in season 3 - License Plate BPL-729.

Dialogue:

🗨 See Javi's full dialogue from the show, including deleted scenes.

Further Character Links (if any):

Javier Peña fandom Wiki Page

FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO'S CHARACTERS ANALYSED

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #javier peña #javier pena #javier pena narcos #pedro pascal character analysis #pedro pascal character study #javier pena character analysis

96 notes · View notes

writeforfandoms · 9 months

Text

State of My Head 3

Find the series masterlist

Here we are folks! The final chapter! There will be a bonus scene soonish, so keep an eye out for that. But this is the last actual chapter, with the promised happy ending.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, blood, injury, death of a minor character, swearing, shifter behavior, cat behavior, Gaz finally realizes he was an idiot.

Word count: 4.7k

You still hated the helicopter rides. Even though they were necessary. But you still huddled into your seat, holding tight to the grips. At least Gaz and Soap had stopped teasing you, most of the time.

This op was a little less straightforward. They didn’t have as much intel on this location, which was why Price was sending you in first. There were supposed to be weapons, but there was no clear intel on how many weapons or exactly which kind.

That was part of your job. To find the weapons and report back.

The heli landed and you hopped out, taking a moment to look around. You’d been dropped off away from the objective - there was a bit of a hike to the buildings. Apparently this was normal for them.

You were just looking forward to shifting so you could run ahead.

Price motioned for you to follow him, which you did. By now, this was routine. You weren’t combat trained, so you stayed in the middle of the group. This time, Gaz covered your back.

Price halted in a good cover spot, and you immediately shifted.

“Straight back here,” Price reminded you as you crawled out of your clothes, though he didn’t need to and you both knew it. By now, it was just habit.

You meowed softly at him and lifted one paw, tapping his boot twice. And then you trotted off towards your destination.

The set of three warehouses were a bit removed from the road, big parking lots nearly empty. They had that dilapidated look about them, run down and tagged with spraypaint. They were set outside of town, far enough away that you doubted anyone would be able to hear things going on here. Good for the people of the town, at least. The route from Price’s chosen spot to the parking lots was covered in vegetation, trees growing tall and wild, bushes providing plenty of cover spots. A series of hills rose behind the warehouse, providing further cover.

It wasn’t a bad location for a secret weapons cache, really. Unremarkable. Isolated enough to operate without suspicion, but still with easy access to a major road. Not bad at all.

The chain link fencing around the area was new. Still easy enough to squeeze under. Sometimes you were glad you weren’t any bigger.

The lack of outside lights worked in your favor, allowing you to get close. You paused outside to listen.

Definite movement inside. Footsteps. Murmuring. The click of a lighter. A side door opened several feet from your hiding spot, letting out a guard, and you held very still.

“Think they’re gonna show?” The guard had an accent, sounded Russian to your ears.

“Boss thinks they will.” A second guard stepped out of the building, lighting a cigarette. This one sounded American.

“What makes him so sure?” The Russian didn’t sound disbelieving, just bored.

“Eh, who knows?” The American blew out smoke, rolling his shoulders. “Not like I’m the boss’s right hand man.”

The two both laughed at that, and you tensed. There was something wrong here, very wrong. Who were they expecting?

A radio crackled on the Russian’s hip. “Got movement from the northwest,” someone reported in, muffled but audible. Also American. Northwest. You froze, not quite sure which direction you’d come from.

“Guess the boss is right.” The American grinned, teeth very white in the darkness. “We better finish up if we wanna get in on the fun.”

“Assuming the snipers don’t get the bastards first,” the Russian agreed. “But who knows? They are supposed to be very good.”

“It’s the same assholes that blew up the cache two weeks ago. They’re good.” The American sounded almost eager, thirsty for bloodshed in a way that made all your fur stand on end. He put out his cigarette on the bottom of his shoe, free hand reaching over to smack his companion in the shoulder. “C’mon, man, hurry up.”

You’d heard enough. You remembered the cache two weeks ago - Soap had come back exhilarated and smelling of smoke.

They were expecting your guys. Somehow, they knew.

This was a trap.

You bolted, running as fast as you could, no longer quite so worried about stealth.

But you did pause outside the fence, because they’d mentioned snipers. Okay. Think like Ghost. Where would you set up if you were a sniper?

A quick look found at least four spots you could check. After you warned the team.

It took a lot less time to get back to them, since you were less concerned about stealth and more concerned about speed. Consequently, when you arrived in front of Price, you were panting. Shifting took only a moment, leaving you crouched in front of them.

“They know,” you gasped, not giving them time to ask you questions. “Expecting you. Snipers, guards.” You waved back at the building.

Price’s eyes narrowed. “You sure?”

You nodded rapidly. “Heard two of them talking.” You swallowed against your dry throat, ignoring the chill of the night air against your skin.

Price blew out a slow breath, gaze flitting between you and the buildings in the distance. The other three all stood still and silent, waiting on his orders.

“Right. No use walkin’ in to a trap. Get back to exfil.”

There was a ripple through the group, the tension of a thwarted op paired with the knowledge that they’d been given bad intel. You, at least, couldn’t think for a moment of anything other than the fact that if you hadn’t gone first, they’d have walked blindly into that trap.

You swallowed, glancing between them. Gaz was already reaching for your clothes, Soap and Ghost on alert. Price was not going to like what you did next.

So you just wouldn’t give him a chance to yell at you.

“Meet you back there,” you said, and shifted. You were gone again before any of them could try to grab you, and you knew they couldn’t risk shouting after you.

You ran ahead of them and veered off course. It was dark, but your eyesight was better in the dark than any human’s, especially shifted. So you saw the movement of a sniper, likely scanning for your guys.

You launched yourself at the sniper, yowling. You were no bigger than the average housecat, but you had surprise on your side, and claws. He yelped as your claws dug into his shoulders and arms around his tac vest. A gunshot briefly deafened you, but rather than run off, you lunged for his hand, biting down as hard as you could. He dropped the rifle, swearing, trying to shake you off.

You let go of him and ran again. You doubted he’d go after you, and you were too small a target to shoot at with any accuracy. Especially as you zigzagged away.

So you went on, following the sounds of a radio and check in calls. Your ears flickered, pinpointing the source of the noise, before you crept up.

This one was a woman, tense and alert, scanning for enemies. Your tail flicked back and forth as you debated your approach. You could get to her hands first, incapacitate her. But you’d have to move fast, both to catch up with your guys and to not get shot.

Her radio crackled again and she turned towards the sniper you’d already attacked.

You leapt at her hands, scratching and biting. You thought it would work.

It sort of did.

She yelled and swore and swung away from you. But she didn’t drop the gun.

Instead she swung it at the same time you jumped for her.

Pain burst in your side, sharp and sudden. You tumbled out of the air, landing on your feet and howling. For a moment you wondered if you’d be able to move, if you’d even be able to make it back to exfil–

“Fucking animal,” the woman spat, and aimed the rifle at you. You scrambled for cover, the shot so loud it hurt your ears. Warmth slid down into your left ear, muffling your hearing. Another shot and your back right leg buckled under a line of searing heat.

A third shot. For a moment you expected to feel pain, to keel over.

Instead the sniper went down, blood and brain matter sprayed across the ground behind her.

One of your guys must have shot her. Which meant they were still here.

Running was immediately out of the question. Your ribs shifted, and that crunching feeling should probably be very concerning. Your injured leg didn’t want to hold your weight.

Leaving you to limp along on three legs, woozy, struggling a bit to breathe. There was no way this was going to end well for you.

A soft call of your name had you jerk, swaying a little on your feet, before you looked up at Gaz. He hissed out a soft curse, scooping you into his arms. You did your best to not make pained sounds, and failed.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he demanded, holding you securely even as he ran back to join the others. “You could have been killed!”

“You’re explaining that later,” Price growled, ushering Gaz into the heli before him. “Damned foolish.”

You managed a weak meow, shaking your head, trying to unblock your ear. Blood spattered across Gaz’s front and the seat, but you could hear better at least.

“Fuck,” Gaz breathed, buckling in quickly. “Cap, should we–?”

“I don’t know.” Price sat next to him, also buckled in. A moment later the heli was lifting up, the faint lighting inside allowing you to see the captain’s jaw clench tight. “Not a damn vet.”

The motors were so much louder as a cat, and you pinned your ears back, still sensitive from the gunshots. And then meowed pitifully at the sharp pain from your left ear.

Price called your name, and you jerked your gaze to him. Your jaws had parted so you could pant, trying to get more air.

“Shift back,” Price demanded, firm tone mostly masking his concern. “We can’t help you like this.”

You thought about that for a moment. Shifting was going to suck. Your ribs were almost definitely broken, and would not magically be fixed. Not to mention the sheer strain of shifting that much - coupled with the blood you’d already lost, there was a good chance you wouldn’t be able to stay conscious.

Then again, if you didn’t shift, there was no vet on staff. And it was a lot easier to bleed out as a cat than as a human.

So you shifted, immediately gasping in pain at the jostling on your ribs, tears springing to your eyes.

“Easy, love,” Gaz soothed, shifting his grip on you to keep you securely against his chest. “What hurts?”

“Ribs,” you gritted out, shutting your eyes. “Ear. Thigh.” Your heartbeat pounded in your head and at your throat, far too fast. It was getting hard to focus.

“Thigh is still bleeding,” Soap pointed out from across the way, frowning.

“Yeah, spotted that,” Gaz gritted out. One big hand pressed a cloth down onto the seeping wound on your thigh, hard. You whined, hands scrambling for something to help anchor you. The heli jolted, not a lot, but enough to make you bite your tongue to hold back a shriek.

It was too much - the burning in your ribs, the ache in your thigh, the pounding of your pulse. Your eyelids fluttered - you knew you should stay conscious.

But it hurt, and it was hard, and you were less inclined to fight as the adrenaline left you. Shivering hurt, but you couldn’t stop yourself.

“Hey, hey, don’t you dare fall asleep on me.” Gaz sounded more panicked than angry. Someone wrapped a blanket around you, and you blinked slowly.

Price nodded once to you, though he didn’t speak, since he was on the phone with someone else. Of course he was on your left - you couldn’t hear him quite right, things still muffled on that side.

Trying to focus was way too much effort anyway. You just wanted to sleep.

Vaguely, you could hear Gaz behind you, chanting, “No no no–” But it was too much to keep your eyes open, to ask him what was wrong.

Your eyes closed as everything faded.

Soft, rhythmic beeping drew you out of sleep. Opening your eyes was a monumental task, one you accomplished in increments until you could see the boring white ceiling above you.

Didn’t look like your room, though.

Huh.

You felt like you should be freaked out about that, but you felt too weighted down to get freaked out about anything. You blinked slowly, trying to remember what happened.

The soft breathing in the room finally registered, and you blinked again and lifted your head.

Gaz was asleep next to you, head pillowed on his arms at the edge of your bed. That looked uncomfortable. No way he should sleep like that.

But parting your lips to try to call to him just made you cough, your throat dry and scratchy as sandpaper. Coughing jostled your ribs, pain flaring bright and sudden, clearing the last of the cobwebs from your brain. With the side effect of tears leaking from your eyes as you tried to calm down.

Big, warm hands cupped your cheeks, thumbs smoothing over your skin. “Easy, love, easy does it,” Gaz murmured, gaze flitting over you, as if he could do anything to help. “Best thing to do is to breathe normally, yeah?”

You stuttered through the first few breaths, slowly calming down until you were relaxed again, Gaz still leaning over you. You blinked slowly up at him, lifting one shaky hand to cover his.

“What happened?” You barely got the words out as a whisper, but you managed.

“Water first.” Gaz released you with one hand, slowly, as if he was reluctant, and pushed a button to lever the bed more upright. He held the water for you, making it easy for you to just drink through the straw.

You slow-blinked at him again when he set the water aside. That was better. Not great, but better. You tapped the back of his hand gently.

“Right.” Gaz blew out a slow breath, gaze darting from you to the side table to the machines next to you. “You’re in a hospital, Price is wrangling the doctor. You remember getting shot, yeah?”

“Thigh,” you agreed.

“And the tip of your ear.” His fingers strayed, brushing against the left side of your head, which did feel thick and muffled. Huh.

“Damn.” You huffed. “Gonna look like I got caught in a spay and release program.”

His snort was surprised and a tiny bit wet. “That’s what you’re worried about?”

“Still got my pride,” you mumbled, tipping your head a little to nuzzle into his palm.

“Yeah, well.” Gaz cleared his throat. “You… almost didn’t make it, love.”

You blinked at him, feeling incredibly slow. “How?”

“Not sure.” Gaz scrubbed his free hand over his face. “Guess you lost more blood than we thought, or something. But you were struggling by the time we got you here.” He swallowed hard, looking haunted.

“Too many shifts,” you muttered, trying to grab him with your free hand, and then glowering at the tug and pinch of the IV there. “Must’ve drained me more than I thought.”

“Have you been hurting yourself to help us?” Gaz sounded a little appalled, his gaze somehow more frantic as he looked you over.

You shook your head a little. “Doesn’t hurt,” you reassured him. “Normally not a problem. Just… takes energy.” You hummed softly, nestling your cheek further into the warmth of his hand, nose near his wrist. He smelled much better than the hospital room.

Gaz huffed softly, shoulders relaxing again. “You’ve got stitches in your leg,” he murmured. “And a few broken ribs.”

“Called that one.” You fought to keep your eyes open. You didn’t want to go back to sleep, didn’t want to lose the warmth of his gaze, the feel of his skin on yours. Didn’t want to go back to the distance he held you at.

“It’s okay if you wanna sleep more,” he murmured, leaning in closer. “You need to heal.”

“Don’t wanna sleep.” You nuzzled into his palm again even as your eyes closed against your will.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Gaz murmured, low and solemn, like a promise. “Just rest, love.”

As stubborn as you wanted to be, you obeyed, his scent soothing you back to sleep.

He was still there when you woke next, as was Price. This time, you felt less groggy, but definitely still not normal.

“We will have a conversation about that stunt,” Price said as soon as your gaze focused on him. “When you’re not stuck in bed.”

“Joy,” you drawled, though you relaxed a little at the knowledge that you weren’t about to be reamed. Not yet, anyway.

“Another few days here and you should be fine to come back to base.” Price tipped his head, watching you carefully.

“‘Kay.” You grimaced as you tried to breathe deeper, the ache in your ribs reminding you why that was not a good idea.

“That’ll take a while,” Gaz murmured sympathetically. “Ribs are the worst.”

“Be easier as a cat.” But you just made a face, displeased with the prospect of months of recovery.

“After the stitches come out,” Price interrupted, giving you a stern look. “Not before.”

“I know.” You couldn’t help but pout a little.

Price snorted. “Get some rest,” he ordered, taking a single step forward to pat the top of your feet. He shot a look at Gaz that you couldn’t decipher before he turned and left.

Leaving you with Gaz again.

“How’re you doing?” Gaz shifted closer to you, his knees knocking into the side of the bed.

“Okay,” you said slowly, watching him. Now that you were less out of it, the sudden closeness and concern were… odd. You knew it was him, you knew his scent anywhere. Even in your sleep. Had he hit his head at some point? No, Price wouldn’t let him get away with not getting that treated.

“What?” Gaz blinked at you, gently curling his hand over your free hand.

“You’re… different.” You stopped yourself from saying more. Kinder. Softer. More like you remembered from the beginning, when you’d decided he was your person.

He swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing, and looked down at your linked hands. “Yeah,” he agreed softly. “I, uh. I’m sorry. Been a real ass.” He rubbed the back of his neck, managing to look up at you from under his lashes.

You slow-blinked at him again, resisting the urge to headbutt him. For multiple reasons. Not least of which because it would hurt to move. “Coulda been worse.”

“You’re not supposed to excuse my shitty behavior.” Gaz frowned disapprovingly.

You shrugged and then hissed as your ribs reminded you that yes they were still broken. “It didn’t change anything.”

Gaz looked at you like you were a little crazy. “What do you mean?”

“Well.” You licked your lips and swallowed. Your turn to be nervous. “I wouldn’t have… I mean, I still… Hm.” You pursed your lips. Damn humans for being so insistent on words. Any cat would have known by now!

“You still… what?” Gaz leaned closer, eyes focused on you.

Soap saved you from having to explain, waltzing into your room with water and pudding. “Price mentioned ye were finally up! How ye feel, hen?”

“Alive,” you grumbled, tilting your head to look at him. “You brought food?”

“Just some pudding.” He offered it up and even opened it for you. Because he was a good friend.

“When are these bandages coming off?” you asked in a grumble, already annoyed at the reduced hearing in your left ear.

Soap shrugged. “Couple more days. Leg will take longer.” He tipped his head. “Why?”

“Wanna see how bad it looks.” You grimaced. You were a cat, after all. You had some vanity.

“Badass, more like.” Soap reached over to touch you, paused, and redirected his hand to very gently pat the top of your head instead.

“Not made of glass.” You looked down at your lap, scowling a little.

“Hen. Broken ribs suck. Ah ken.” Soap crouched so he could catch your gaze. “Ye’ll hurt for months. No need to go lookin’ for more hurt.”

You blew out a breath and then winced. Okay. Right. “Good point,” you admitted.

Soap grinned. “Has this dafty even tried t’ keep ye entertained?”

You blinked at Soap. “Uh. Define entertained.”

“Means no.” Soap reached over you to swat Gaz’s shoulder. You half-expected them to devolve into tussling - you’d seen it happen before. But they didn’t, this time. Instead Soap snagged another chair, pulling it up to your bedside with a flourish. “Right! Have I told ye ‘bout my sisters?”

The days passed slowly, but they passed. The hospital was boring. But you did rest, because you were forced to. Gaz was there every time you woke up, even in the middle of the night. Trying to get him to go had earned you the most pathetic puppy eyes you’d ever seen, and you were a bit ashamed of how quickly you caved to him.

Which was part of the whole problem, really. He was still your person, even if you weren’t his.

Gaz was the one who helped you from the bed to a wheelchair to make it out of the hospital. Gaz was the one who sat in the backseat with you, helping brace you and talking you through the pain of every bump in the road. Gaz was the one who brought you back to your room, who sat with you and insisted you boss him around telling him what you needed.

Honestly, it was baffling. Completely baffling. It still felt a bit like he’d been replaced with a pod person, or something. (Except your nose would’ve picked that up.)

The bandages around your head finally came off, and you examined the rough half-circle taken out of the top of your ear, completely silent, while Gaz hovered over your shoulder.

“It’s not bad,” you grumbled at last. “Still looks like I got caught by a spay and release program.”

“Have you ever?” Gaz held your gaze in the mirror.

“No one ever caught me,” you said with a haughty sniff, lifting your chin. “Until you. All. You all.”

Gaz drew in a deep breath, his hands settling very carefully on your shoulders. “We never finished our conversation.”

“Which one?” You didn’t quite have to feign ignorance - you’d fallen asleep talking to him more than once, recently.

“About what a shit I was.” He paused. “And why you’re so eager to sweep it under the rug.”

“Oh. That.” You swallowed, gaze skittering away from him.

“Yeah, that.” He shifted closer to you.

You hummed a soft note, not quite sure how to get out of this conversation, not sure if you should. Then you sighed softly. “For the record. You are an idiot.” You clenched your jaw and then released it. “If you were anyone else, I’d hold that against you for a long time.”

“What about Price and Ghost?”

“Trust me, I’ll be reminding them that they hated me and use it to my advantage.” You smirked. “Cats have long memories when we want.”

“So why aren’t you holding it against me?”

And therein lay the problem. You fidgeted, making a face. “Alright. So. There is one major way we differ from, say, house cats.”

“Okay…?” Gaz looked bewildered but rolled with the apparent change of topic.

“We choose one mate for life. Usually the female chooses. ‘S why Mama’s the matriarch.”

Gaz blinked and then his eyes blew wide as he breathed out your name.

“I made my choice three days into my stay here.” You forced yourself to hold still, to hold his gaze.

“You… But… Even when I…?” He looked… a little devastated, a little hopeful. Pained, definitely.

“Yes.” You shrugged carefully. “The whole damn time.”

Somehow, you weren’t quite sure how, Gaz managed to move around you, getting to your front and kissing you, soft and sweet. His fingers trembled against your cheeks.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathed, moving back just enough so he could speak. “I’m such a damn fool. You nearly died and I–” His breathing hitched.

“Easy,” you murmured, lifting one hand to cover his. “I’m okay.” You paused. “Well. I will be okay.”

“Made me realize what an idiot I’d been,” he continued, pressing his forehead to yours. “Made me realize I love you.”

Your breath caught, your eyes going wide. “You… do?”

“I do.” He huffed, breath warm against your lips. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“Already forgiven.” You smiled slowly, carefully nuzzling his cheek. “Told you. Can’t hold a grudge against my person.”

Gaz smiled. "Feel like I should scold you for being so forgiving about this, but it works to my advantage."

You chuckled and then winced. Right. Ribs. "I'll be happy when those stitches come out," you grumbled, glowering down at your leg.

"Just a few more days," Gaz soothed. "Are they bothering you? Itching?"

"No. I just want to shift." You made a face.

"You don't like being stuck, do you?"

You swallowed hard, because that was… a little too accurate. "Right."

Gaz kissed you again soft and slow and sweet. "I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing, you'll give me a complex." But you smiled, leaning in very carefully to nuzzle his cheek. "Just don't do it again. My forgiveness has its limits."

"Promise I won't." He kissed you again, apparently unable to help himself.

Not that you were complaining.

Your only real complaint was that anything more was out of the question. For the moment.

Gaz held your hand as the stitches were removed. The on-base medic gave you some advice (that you didn't actually pay attention to) before leaving.

You waited until the door was shut to shift. It hurt. It hurt more than you expected, left you panting softly.

But you were once again on four paws. Much better.

"You alright?" Gaz crouched down to be on your level, concern clear in his eyes.

You chirped and licked the tip of his nose, smug. This felt much better.

He chuckled quietly. "Can I pick you up?"

You chirped again, walking carefully closer to him. Walking hurt, but not as badly as when you were human.

It took a little figuring out, but Gaz picked you up and cradled you against his chest, one arm securely under your paws. You started purring immediately, rubbing your cheek against his chest.

The only times he put you down the rest of the day were when he absolutely had to.

Best of all? He went back to hand feeding you, grinning through the teasing from Soap.

You purred the entire meal.

Finally, he headed back towards your room for the night. "You ready for bed?" He asked softly.

You mrrped at him and tapped his hand. He blinked down at you. You looked very carefully down the hall, towards his room.

"You… want to stay with me?"

You chirped an affirmative.

"Well… alright. Just for tonight." He continued down to his room, setting you gently on the bed.

You gave him privacy to change for bed, padding up to his pillow to lay down next to it. Curling up was a no-go, so you laid carefully on your uninjured side.

Gaz settled down with you, kissing the top of your head. "Sleep well, love."

You closed your eyes, purring gently. There was no way you were just staying in here tonight. If you had your way, you'd never go back to your room.

You could be very persuasive when you wanted.

#state of my head #shifter au #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #f!reader

348 notes · View notes

soapfcrce · 3 months

Text

In hindsight, leaving Soap alone with the target was probably a bad idea...

In hindsight, maybe the fucker shouldn’t have done what he did. Maybe they’d have all been wrapped up nicely in a van off to have a nice conversation before burying the guy neck deep in some nice prison that everyone would probably forget about. Fat chance that was.

The blood caked his hands and splattered across his face, feeling not unlike a warm embrace of relief. The muzzle of the gun in his hands was still smoking, the already bruises and scrapes on his hands stinging from the sweat and bile from where he had unloaded. Again, in hindsight, they really shouldn’t have done this.

He spat at the body, breath heavy. “See you in hell, arsehole...” He’ll deal with the consequences later.

#intel report «¤» ( in character #task force time «¤» ( main verse #open «¤» ( post #8) have some feral soap for the road

7 notes · View notes

shxwmaster · 1 year

Text

Sometimes, I feel like it would've been some juicy drama to have Mathias meet Pathonia again in Maldraxxus or something, especially if Flynn is there to witness it, just cause Shaw has started to take a different direction with his life, but also, it's sooo not necessary I feel for their characters. It wouldn't do much, and there isn't any closure Shaw really needs from her; he knows and acknowledges that what she did to him was incredibly abusive, and I highly doubt that Pathonia would ever come to feel even remotely remorseful. A reunion would just be her finding things to be disappointed about. It's still a pressing issue that the SI:7 has no heir for after Mathias passes.

Trying to figure out what Shaw was up to during Shadowlands tho is a headache LOL. I think he has obviously sent the SI:7 crawling all OVER the Shadowlands and the Maw searching for Anduin, doing everything in their absolute power to bring their king back, but I don't think Shaw would have gone with them.

With Turalyon now Regent Lord, Shaw is incredibly skeptical and suspicious of him, and doesn't trust Turalyon one BIT. I mean, look no further than Shaw insisting Genn should have been regent lord, he's an actual king. Plus, Shaw has shown to find faith in the Light something to be mocked, and Turalyon, though favored by the Nobles and a famous hero, hasn't been on Azeroth for a thousand years. How can you put someone in power of something you're not even remotely familiar with anymore.

Shaw stays in Stormwind to keep a strict eye on Turalyon, practically waiting for the man to slip. SI:7 agents around the Keep are doubled, both for protection and for surveillance. Shaw firmly believes it's only a matter of time until his hunch is proven right.

It's also my personal headcanon that once Anduin was FINALLY saved, and he decided that he wanted to run away and go into hiding, that the SI:7 has actually been covering for him. I have sooo many personal headcanons on how Shaw and Anduin's relationship plays out, and I firmly believe that helping Anduin escape the burden of his crown is something Shaw would 100% be on, and just cover and say that the SI:7 can't find him. You mean to tell me it's been 3 years and the fucking SI:7 hasn't found him? Come on. Shaw knows. He's just hiding him.

#profile: intel #si report: headcanon #file: pathonia #file: a. wrynn #file: turalyon #v: shadowlands #( talk of shl on the dash got me thinking about things again )#( i'm gonna make a separate post about my thoughts on anduin and shaw cause god it means so much to me )#( i used to rp anduin sooo much but gave it up once he became Too lore important but now that he's gone )#( i'm like ok sick free game )#( i like my characters better when the plot can't hurt them that bad LOL )

6 notes · View notes

thezombieprostitute · 3 months

Text

Dream Come True - Part 6

Summary: The “Garbage Men” are the guys in the mob who get the dirt on others and clean up after the higher ups. They have many different ways of gathering intel by running legitimate businesses. One such business is Jefferson/Jensen’s cyber cafe where you regularly go to work. You’ve actually become good friends with Jefferson’s daughter and Jensen’s niece. You even volunteered as their after-school tutor. One day, there’s a robbery attempt where you get hurt protecting the girls. This is how you are introduced to Curtis Everett, the guy in charge of the “Garbage Men”.

A/N: Reader is plus sized, femme. No other descriptors used.

Warnings: Bullying, Fat shaming, Insecure reader, Kidnapping, Mild violence. Please let me know if I missed any!

Part 5 -- Part 7

Series Masterlist

“So where are we at with identifying the culprit?” Steve’s voice was tight, even over speakerphone.

“Jake’s identified the hacker,” Curtis reported. “But we’re still nowhere closer to finding out what they want or who they’re working for.”

“Has anyone tried contacting the hacker,” Bucky asked from the phone.

“If we did that we could alert their boss,” Mace warned. “That could get Ran killed if we’re not careful.”

You were sitting with Jake, listening to the conversation. Curtis had initially not wanted you to partake but you had to present your case to the Bosses, backed up by Jake’s data. You fidgeted nervously, feeling helpless.

“Jake did manage to get a foothold in hacker’s bugs so we can hear anything that they hear,” Curtis continued. “Is there a way you can call him about something? Maybe get a code phrase from him?”

Everyone heard Bucky curse at that, “the idiot never learned them. Insisted he’d never need them.”

“So,” Steve started, “we’ve got a possible hostage situation where Ransom is being watched closely and he was only able to communicate with Teach?”

“That’s actually a good point,” Mace perked up. “Why did he send those to her? To her apartment, specifically? Why wouldn’t he send, or something similar, to someone in the family? Or even to the cybercafe where he knew she worked?”

“Probably because she’s not in the family,” Bucky pondered aloud. “Anything he sent to us, legitimate side of things or not, would be flagged for suspicion. They don’t know she’s connected to us.”

“Then I can go in,” you blurt out. All heads in the room snapped to look at you. Instead of letting yourself be intimidated, you continued, “I…I could go in under the guise of angrily returning his gifts. I’ll wear something he’ll recognize as acknowledgement of his code…something one of his characters would’ve worn.”

“No,” Curtis barked. “There are too many unknowns here.”

“She might be our best bet,” Steve intervened. “Teach, how will you know if your message is getting across?”

“Well, Jake’s only identified audio trackers, right? What if I were able to write a question or something while yelling at him about the gifts? Maybe even write some cards out beforehand to make it easier?” While Mace and Jake nodded acknowledgement and thought about it, you could feel your confidence withering under the intensity of Curtis’s glare.

“I don’t know what other practical options we have,” Bucky commented.

“NO,” Curtis snarled. “We’re not putting an outsider in danger! She’s not part of the family, she shouldn’t be risking herself like this.” While his words were for everyone else, his eyes never left you. You’d never seen him so worked up before. It gave you an idea as to why his people tended to follow orders over arguing with him.

“We have audio,” Steve interjected. “She can set up some code phrases or words of her own and let us know what’s going on.” Curtis opened his mouth to say something but Steve cut him off, “and if you try saying no again, Curtis, I’ll leave you out of the planning. Especially if you have no better alternatives.” Curtis clenched his jaw, still glaring at you. Part of you wanted to shy away from him, but you needed to show him you could back up your talk so you stayed firm.

“What are some possible things you could fit into a natural conversation to give us updates,” Mace asked you.

“Um…well, if I call him “Mr. Drysdale”, like I always did, it’ll mean everything’s okay. If I call him “Ransom”, it’ll mean there’s something wrong but I can’t identify it. If I call him “Hugh”, I’m telling you I’m in danger, please come get me now. Do you think you can work with that?”

Mace nodded and added, “if there are other people there, complain about working for him for so many years, using the number of years to tell us how many there are.” You nod in understanding.

“I’ll call Destroyer to set her up with a car,” Bucky chimed in. “He’ll make sure it has no identifiers that can mark her as suspicious. Be ready to go in thirty, Teach.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply, just loud enough to make sure he can hear you. You’re still faltering under Curtis’s silent deathglare. You see him twitch at your words and a bit of pain seeping into his eyes.

You pull up into the driveway and put the car in park before taking a deep breath to steady your nerves. Jake, Mace and Hal ran you through a bunch of possible conversation scenarios to help you practice your improv and keep your cool.

Curtis seemed to withdraw, focusing instead on getting you the items you needed. He gathered all of the gifts from your apartment to put in the car. He also picked up the four-leaf clover earrings and the Celtic-shield-knot talisman you needed to convey, in Ransom’s code, that the message had been received. As much as his stares made you uncomfortable before, as you left you wished he’d at least look at you.

You take a deep breath, “no going back,” you tell yourself. You step outside the car and grab the gifts before heading inside. You were too stressed to stand and wait after knocking or ringing the bell so you opt to lean into the energy and slam open the door. You stomp towards Ransom’s office where you see him pacing back and forth.

“Mr. Drysdale,” you scold. Ransom’s head snaps to you, he almost seems relieved.

“Ah, Sweetheart,” he purred, “you got my gifts!” He walks closer to you and you see a piece of paper in his hand.

“Yes, Mr. Drysdale. And I’m here to return them to you. I told you, I’m not going to work for you again.” As you speak you hold out your own pre-written card that asks, “someone’s listening?”

Ransom nods, his body language conflicting with his entreating tone, “oh but Angel, you know how well I treat you! No one makes you come like I do.”

“Mr. Drysdale!” Your eyes flash with irritation but he holds out his hands, placatingly, complete with the note you’d seen earlier.

As you take the note he continues, “come on, Angel. I can pay you more and you can get back to worshiping my cock like you did before. Please! You’ve ruined me for other women with that gorgeous, meaty ass.”

Without thinking you smack him hard across the face, “Mr. Drysdale, you will never speak to me again. If you even think about sending me anything else, I’ll get a restraining order!” You turn around and storm out, the note now in your purse. Ransom takes the opportunity to get some ice on his face, hoping he won’t get yet another bruise.

You return to the car and drive away as fast as you safely can. Your eyes are tearing up so you can’t drive too fast. When you feel you’re a safe distance away, you pull into a parking lot and catch your breath. You open up the note and text a photo of it to Jake. You can barely read it because of the tears that keep falling. You hope it’s a good enough photo before you put the note back in your purse and give yourself a minute to catch your breath.

You’re about to turn the car back on and head back when someone taps on your window. Startled, you turn and see a man with bright blue eyes and a thick mustache smiling at you. You roll down your window just a little so you can hear him.

“Hey there, Sunshine,” he leers at you. “What’s a lady like you doing out here by yourself?”

“If you can’t tell me why you’re bothering me, I’m just going to drive off,” you scowled.

“No need for that,” he assures. “I just figured since you told off your boss, you could use a new man to take care of those needs for you. And you are just my type.”

Your eyes widen at his words and you go to start the car. He flashes his gun at you and you freeze up.

“Careful, there, Pumpkin,” I get that you’ve been through a bad breakup with Ran, but I’ll treat you right. If you behave.”

“Um,” you hesitate, visibly shaking. “Can I…can I text my friends? They’re expecting a message of some kind. I’ll just tell them I’m making up with him so they don’t go looking for me?”

“I get to read the message before you send it.”

“Of course, Mr…”

He smiles, making your stomach churn, “just call me Lloyd, Pumpkin.”

“Yes, Lloyd,” you nod. You grab your phone and type out the message to what you hope is an unrecognizable number, before showing it to him.

“Making up with Hugh,” he reads aloud. “Succinct and efficient. I like your style. Go ahead and send it, then come on out of that car and let me show you a great time.”

You hit send and put the phone in your purse, making sure to carry the purse with you as you step out and he leads you to his own vehicle.

Part 5 -- Part 7

Tagging @alicedopey because I promised I would.

@dontbescaredtosingalong

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@icefrozendeadlyqueen

@lokislady82

@texmexdarling

@veltana

@winter-soldier-101

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged.

#curtis everett x reader #curtis everett x plus size!reader #curtis everett x insecure!reader #mafia!curtis everett #mob!curtis everett #curtis everett #plus size!reader #ongoing series

108 notes · View notes

wingedjellyfishflight · 6 months

Text

They Don't Make 'Em Like They Used To

Captain Price is a tough man. He has risen through the ranks by making tough decisions and somehow pulling success from the jaws of defeat on many occasions. He is well aware that many of his best men do not come from good homes with good role models in their lives. Thus, he adopts a stern, but fair dad persona. Most of the time, there is pushback quickly and he doesn't get to indulge much. At least, until you come along.

The day you join the 141, he goes over your file, it isn't the first or the last time he will look it over, but it is the first time he looks at the section covering your home life from before you joined up. The file on your father is thick, intimidating, mother is just one line: died in childbirth. As he skims over the known and assumed facts of your father, he sees the same patterns again that are present in many other files. Abuse, neglect, abandonment. He sighs before standing to meet with you and welcome you to the team.

It doesn't take long for you to settle in, despite the constant jump scare that is Ghost looming out of dark corners and doorways, imitating a character from a book with his yells of "maintain acuity!" Captain Price has the exact opposite energy around him. Calming, always announcing his presence in some way to not startle anyone. Good job sounds encouraging, not condescending and you feel on cloud nine when he says attagirl, because you know he means it.

The first time you get a scrape, he is there checking you over. As soon as he's sure you're fine, he jokes, "No saving it. Gonna have to cut off the whole leg. Get the medics." Soap is the only one to laugh. Later, you find a quiet moment to ask Soap why the Captain's jokes are always so bad. He explains dad jokes to you and your response is simply, "didn't know dad's could joke, huh." You're puzzled, but happy for the hug he wraps you in. The moment of comfort ends when Ghost looms out of a nearby door and jabs Soap in the side with his stupid "maintain acuity!"

The jokes continue and you find yourself laughing at how dumb they are. One day you say, "I'm hungry." Before he can think, he shoots back, "Hi hungry, I'm da-Price." Clearing his throat, he quickly walks away. Less than twenty minutes later, he drops a bowl in your hands. "What's this, Captain?" "Mac n cheese n hot dogs with ketchup, the dad special." He sits down with his own bowl and watches you out of the corner of his eye as you dig in excitedly, a small smile on his face when you tell him how good it is.

Later, Ghost stops you in the hall. "You don't have to humor the old man. If you tell him to stop, he will stop and it won't hurt his feelings. He's tried to parent all of us at one point." You stare at him worriedly. "Am...am I not supposed to eat the macaroni and hot dogs? It was really good. Never had it before." You can see him clenching and unclenching his jaw. Finally, he answers, not making eye contact, "if you like it, eat it."

When you mention that a guy from another team asked you out on a date, you see a whole new side of the Captain. He demands to know who it is and when he finds out, he has Gaz gathering intel immediately. Armed with the report, he tells you that this guy isn't good enough for you. The guy doesn't even have a car. When you remind him that you don't have a car, Price responds, "exactly, how is he gonna take you on a date with no car?" You shrug. "He said something about a bar, so I thought we would just take a taxi there and back." He grunts and walks away. When your date picks you up, Captain is there asking where he is taking you and when you will be back.

You spot no less than three of your team members at the bar within twenty minutes of getting there, all watching you from various points around the room. Clearly, your date sees none of them, as he gets more than a little handsy despite your mild protests. Tired of his wandering hands, you try to stand up and he reaches to pull you back down. A hand wraps around his wrist, Captain Price glaring down at him, face red and unlit cigar clenched tightly in his teeth. "She said no, lad. Hands off." He takes you back to base and passes you a pint of your favorite ice cream. "Blokes suck," is all he says as he claps a hand on your shoulder before settling down to watch an old Bond movie with you.

Some might confuse his interference as flirting, but you and the team know that he is fully platonic in his feelings, just determined to be the dad you needed as a kid. It seeps into everything after long enough. He is spotted wearing white new balance sneakers on his days off and yells at everyone to "get off his grass" while he sits on a lawn chair. His favorite days are the ones where you plop a chair next to him and drink a pitcher of lemonade together, his secretly spiked with his favourite bourbon. You chat with him, sometimes asking for advice on life and other days discussing his favorite historical battles or his plans for retirement.

You ask him to be your dad for real one day after several years, nervously asking him to adopt you. The hug he wraps you in hides the tears pouring down his face. He is never prouder than the day he pins a new tag to your chest. It reads PRICE and he tears up seeing you proudly wear it.

#call of duty #captain price #john price #dad jokes #fluff #ghost cod #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #gaz cod

278 notes · View notes