#m answers | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

roosterbruiser · 1 year

Note

I am thinking about Jake being uncomfy w touch from most people (and therefore being a little unknowingly touch starved) but doing small things to get your touch: leaning his head towards you so you play with his hair, gently touching your leg to get your attention, wrapping your ankles together under the table.

And the reader maybe not 100% picking up on it at first until he comes out and says it? Okay ily thanks for listening 🫶🏻🫶🏻

you've noticed it here and there--nothing outwardly in-your-face that screams help me! I'm touch-starved! no, it's much smaller than that. so much smaller that you don't realize it on your own at all.

like when you're at the grocery store and Jake comes up behind you, peppering your throat with kisses in the produce aisle as the sprinklers lightly wet the goosed skin of your forearms. like when he stands with his chest pressed against your back, arms caging you in, as he holds onto the cart and pushes as you do.

"looked heavy," he always insists softly, a smile tugging at his lips.

or when you're watching a movie at home, your feet resting on the coffee table beside his. he's always tucked up right beside you, his arm on the back of the touch behind your head. sometimes, during a more boring part, he'll gently drag his fingers through your hair and watch your face for a few moments. and when you catch him, he always squeezes your thigh, smiles coyly, and shrugs his way through a half-hearted apology.

"you're much more interesting than Bridget Jones," he'll say.

when you go to The Hard Deck with him, he's always hands-on. palm resting on your knee as you sit at the bar, chin on your shoulder while he waits for his turn in pool, body molded around yours as he teaches you how to shoot darts, lips against your cheek and fingers wrapped around your wrist when you excuse yourself to head to the restroom.

"don't be too long," he always teases, laughing when you roll your eyes.

right now, under the blue sky and before the dying fire pit in Maverick's backyard, you're beside Javy. the two of you are watching Jake and Rooster try and help Amelia do her first ever cartwheel in the grass, paper plates balanced on your knees.

"you're special," Javy says with a broad grin, waggling his eyebrows at you as you watch your boyfriend spot Amelia. "he's so whipped."

"oh, is that what you've decided?" you ask with a small smile, glancing at him.

"no, really," Javy insists. "that man's all over you."

you shift to look at Javy with a perched brow.

"yeah, that's the thing about being in love," you tease. "anyway, isn't he all over everyone?"

when Javy barks out a laugh, you bite your lip.

"sweetheart, he's not all over anyone any time--at all." when you look at him with an expression of disbelief covering your features, he nods to Jake. "we've been friends since the academy. I think he's hugged me...once? and when he saved Rooster's life? they shook hands. shook hands!"

with a peculiar sour taste on your tongue, you glance back at your boyfriend. and then it's suddenly clear as day--he doesn't really touch anyone but you. even now, as he's helping Amelia on the grass, his hands are merely hovering her shoulders. he's standing several paces away from Rooster.

"racking your brain?" Javy asks, arms crossed. "don't waste your time. I'm right!"

sticking your tongue out at Javy, you set your plat on the grass and stand up, starting for your boyfriend.

he notices you immediately--like he always does when you head in his direction. he's grinning immediately, one that eats all his features until he's just dimples and lips and teeth, hands resting on his hips.

Rooster, who's watching slyly, starts to casually hum the bridal march. Jake doesn't stop him.

"hey," you say softly as you approach. "get her into the Olympics yet?"

"almost," Jake sighs, immediately wrapping you up in his arms and pulling you against him. "she's just gotta believe in herself!"

Amelia, with her face red and her disposition less than sunny, huffs at Jake.

"I'm trying!"

Jake laughs, kissing the top of your head, resting his hands on your hips as he connects your bodies. you melt into him--just like he likes.

it feel so very natural to be up against him, being held tight under the dying sky. no wonder you hadn't exactly noticed that he isn't like this with everyone else--when he holds you, it just feels like something that's in his nature.

when you glance back over at Javy, he has his arms crossed over his chest. he's grinning from ear to ear, rapidly doing a whip motion in the air.

1K notes · View notes

mr-m-murdock · 1 year

Note

REQ!! jealous nat x flirtatious r ?? reader that makes nat jealous on purpose.

fuck around and find out

warnings: idk. possessiveness?

a/n: jealousy? god tier. thank you anon (free beefy!nat crumbs for ya too)

The drink that the bartender sets down in front of you is pink and yellow, and there's a pink straw and a tiny cocktail umbrella lolling against the edge of the glass.

"Uh..." you say. "Don't think I ordered that, thanks."

"It's from the lady at the end, blue dress," he replies. He shrugs. "I can tell her to back off if you want." He can probably see Nat glaring at you from across the room. Or maybe he saw her making out with you on one of the couches less than ten minutes ago.

You shake your head. "Nah, thanks." You lift the glass in the direction of the woman at the other end of the bar, and she watches you take a sip with a smile on her face. So it's gonna be one of those kind of nights. You've already made up your mind, anyway - Natasha's been irritating you all evening. Taste of her own goddamn medicine.

You take a sip as the woman sits down beside you. It tastes strongly of pineapple. “Fruity,” you say, and you look her up and down. Her dress is stunning.

She laughs. "I've got an intuition for that kind of thing," she replies, and she shifts closer to you.

"You come here with anyone?" you ask. You don't usually play it deliberately obtuse, and she gives you an odd look.

"No," she says. "All alone." She's tall, all legs, and she's looking at you like she wants to take you home. You consider, if this were happening four months ago, would you let her? She's your type: confident in her dominance and ready for anything the second she set eyes on you.

Maybe.

She's still looking at you, not perturbed by your silence, and loose hair has fallen from behind her ear. You take another sip of your gifted drink.

You can see reflections shift in the mirrored bar top - time's almost up.

"So where are you from?" you ask, leaning forward, forearm on the smooth bar top. The woman grins at you.

"Chicago," she says. A shadow rears in the reflective counter.

"Oh really? Is it cold there?" You might as well be batting your eyelashes at her, but you can see the exact second the woman realises who's stepped up behind you.

Natasha's hand lands on your shoulder firmly.

You tilt your head back a little and look up at her: you can see the gold of her necklace glinting against her collarbone and a curl of red hair, but the rest of her face is lost in the bright overhead lights. Her shoulders are tight. "Hey, babe," you say. You lay your hand on top of hers and squeeze.

"Hi," she says. Her voice is masterfully clear and casual. "Who's this?" You can hear her eyebrows raise.

"I'm making friends," you reply, cheerful as what-are-you-gonna-do-about-it can be. The woman, in the corner of your eye, looks like she's about to on-god pass out.

"The taxi's just pulled up," Natasha says. You look up at her and she looks down at you: undecipherable. She's so good at it. You have such an urge to make her crack.

You frown. "It's barely past midnight, I haven't even-"

"I'm tired." She cuts you off - not sharp, but firm. She's situating herself in control, where she always is. Up in her seat with your head on her knee.

The woman turns away awkwardly. Natasha thumbs at your cheek, and it would be a sweet touch if you couldn't feel the edge of her nail dragging against your skin. Oh, she's so bored of you getting on her nerves. You want to push her further.

You shrug and detach yourself from her grip, turning to the bar and taking a careless sip of your drink. "I'll join you at home."

She laughs, out loud: and she must not mean to, because it's quiet and restrained. But she takes it in her stride. "Don't be an idiot, you have to be up tomorrow morning." She tugs at your hair affectionately.

"I'm a big girl," you say, feigning annoyance, and you pull your hair out of her reach and take another sip of your drink. It's intensely sweet.

When you look up at her again, straw still halfway into your mouth, she's searching your face. It's possible that she can't tell whether you're being deliberately obtuse and annoying, or whether you're more drunk than you seem and are actually insisting on staying. She must come to a conclusion: her expression closes off.

"I'm going home, then," she says. A test. How exciting.

"Okay." You pluck the paper umbrella from your drink and reach up to tuck it behind her ear. Then you give her a smile and you pull the straw into your mouth and suck.

She gives you a murderous look that slides quickly off her face.

Then she turns away and walks out.

You give it ten seconds before you can't do it any longer, unable to stop from grinning to yourself, and then you slide off your seat and make after her, leaving your drink at the bar.

She's already in the elevator; fuck, but she's fast in heels.

"Nat!" you say, quickening your pace. For a second, as she turns in the elevator to look at you, you think she's not going to hold the doors. But she does, waving a lazy, reluctant hand between them, and they bounce back open. You stagger in, a little windswept, and she crosses her arms at you.

You wait until the doors slide closed again.

"Sorry," you say, not sorry at all. "I was joking." You're not even trying to hide your smile now. "Are you really going home?"

"You're really fucking annoying," she says, through gritted teeth. All pretenses dropped. "I was having a nice time, for once."

"You didn't have to storm out," you say. Your smile is splitting your face now. She's so jealous. You step up to her and link your arms around her waist. In her heels, she's taller than you, and you can feel the muscles in her back when you twist your fingers into her dress. She looks down at you blankly. "Did you get a bit possessive?" you tease.

Natasha doesn't answer for a while. She just stares at you, mouth working ever so slightly. Then she steps forward, so forcefully you have to move back, and she backs you up against the wall of the elevator without even putting a hand on you. You feel the whine of machinery against the back of your skull. She presses her forehead down against yours and sets her palms against the wall either side of your head.

"You're very brave," she says, "to be playing games with me." Her teeth flash. You grin up at her, holding her close, relishing in the excitement her voice elicits in your belly.

"You're such a big bad wolf, huh?" you say. You run your fingers down her back and feel her shudder in response, her eyes momentarily closing. "So big and bad you won't even let your girlfriend talk to other women?"

"I'm not stopping you from doing whatever you want," Natasha says. She kisses your cheek, the promise of something worse beyond her lips. "I'm just reminding you that there are consequences." Those last words are spoken directly into your cheekbone.

"Big bad wolf," you say again, a whisper this time. "Woof, woof."

Natasha's lips move from your cheek to your neck, kissing you over the chain of your necklace. She takes it in her teeth and moves it aside. She presses another kiss, open-mouthed, over your pulse, then laughs when she feels the quick-set beat beneath your skin. You can't help it. She drives you crazy. "Oh, baby," she murmurs. "Do you get such a kick out of embarrassing me?"

"Yes," you breathe. The chrome of the elevator is hazy now. "You're so pretty when you're angry."

She doesn't answer you. Then you feel her teeth on your skin. More, more, until it's painful. She's right up against you, and one hand drops to creep up your thigh, bunching up your dress.

You take in a huge breath of air, but the vertigo of the elevator and the feel of her mouth at your neck is dizzying. "Oh, fuck," you whine. "Nat, we shouldn't do this here." You make a reluctant attempt at pushing her away and she growls into your neck. The other hand pushes at your breastbone, pressing you hard to the wall.

The bell goes for the first floor and she pulls away, leaving you panting against the wall. She inspects the side of your neck, ignoring the pitiful look you're giving her. The side of her mouth lifts up.

The realisation hits you. "Are you fucking kidding me?" you exclaim, as the elevator doors slide open.

Your head whips round. Tony Stark, with four other Avengers at his shoulders, stares at the two of you. "Oh," he says. He takes in your face, where you know a bright flush has spread, and the crumpled fabric of your dress, and the hickey Nat just gave you, and he starts to grin. "Romanoff, you dog," he says.

Words fail you. You're not sure they would have made anything better, with the way five superheroes are gaping at you. Bruce Banner is almost as red as you.

Nat takes your hand and tugs you forward. "Excuse me," she says, and she drags you right through the little crowd, purposefully shunting Stark aside, and into the bright foyer.

You follow, your burning face to the floor, and you wait until you're sat in the safe, dark confines of Natasha's passenger seat to turn and glare at her. You're still blushing, and that probably detracts from how angry you're trying to look.

"You look cute in that dress," she says, conversationally. The streetlights flicker over the smirk that's growing on her lips.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" you exclaim, your voice hysterically high. "You asshole!"

"I don't think I know what you mean," Natasha replies, making a smooth right turn.

"Don't know what I mean my ass," you growl. "You marked me up and then paraded me past all your friends!" She grins at the windscreen and you groan and sink your face into your hands. "Oh, god, that was mortifying." Bruce Banner's face swims in your mind's eye.

You feel her hand, warm, land on your thigh.

"You are so making it up to me," you grumble.

Nat's laughing at you, quiet, just a triumphant little snicker. She fingers the hem of your dress, then pulls her hand away to flick on her indicator. "I'm not making anything up to you," she says. You glare at her through your fingers, and she's grinning at you. "You started it, sweetheart. This is how it ends." And with deft hands, she makes another turn. True to her word, she doesn't make it up to you. In the end, you make it up to her: and you're not sure how that exchange happened.

But really, it was your fault. You should have picked a less sadistic girlfriend.

requests | masterlist

taglist: @when-wolves-howl @fayhar @maggieromanov @transbi-spidey @romanoffscottage @blackxwidowsxwife @lizlil @screechcat @maddess @mellxa @haeva @diaryoflife @natashasilverfox @vicmc624 @strangegardentaco @phantomvael @lorsstar1st @blckrwidow @ima-gi--na-tion @paryl @picnicmic @smalls-words @lainjupi @d1s0nym @meimei-a @the-v01d @kqmui @s1ut4nat @btay3115 @natblackwidow2 @lokisjuicyass @mmmmokdok @thorya22 @olicity-boo @iliketozoneout

#natasha romanoff x reader #fic!#m answers #anon cuties #written fic for anon #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff

1K notes · View notes

cntloup · 1 month

Note

Hey, I LOVE your ex-husband Simon! 💖💖 I don't know if you've ever said but how do you imagine their divorce happened? And do they ever re-marry?

hiii thanks babes mwahmwah💋💋

i have actually written in 'love is not enough' what leads to their divorce

and as for the re-marrying... well, we'll see what happens👀

here is the link to all the stories on this concept 😊❤

54 notes · View notes

our-mspec-experience · 6 months

Note

being trans is fun because i went straight —> lesbian —> bisexual —> gay man —> bisexual. truly the gotta catch em all of sexualities

you really did collect them all, glad you figured it out!

#bisexual #our mspec experience #m answers #lgbt #lesbian #gay #trans

120 notes · View notes

monstermommie · 6 days

Note

Bark ><

Every thing I want you to do me is a lot ><

So ill at least say this:

I want you to stretch me out on a cock that's slightly too big for me. Having me cockwarm it in my tight hole while writhing in both discomfort and pleasure around its girth. Leaving me skewered on your cock like a good pup whining and maoning as it intrudes into me and nuzzles up against my most sensitive areas until you decide to take me with it, Then I want you to fuck me with it till im begging you, to stop cumming on your cock, because "I just can't cum anymore". But you ignore me and just keep fucking me through my pathetic begging, continuing to use me as toy that I am, while forcing more and more orgasms out of me until im so overstimulated, drained, and brainlessly blissed out on your cock that so I can't even beg properly anymore, only just whimper and mewl for you while crash your pelvis into my hole. Only stopping finally once you are completely satisfied. If you could do that all while calling me degrading praises the whole time I would appreciate that a lot Ma'am >//////<

Not anonymous cause thats not how i roll 😎

You’re so brave, puppy, telling me such a pathetic little fantasy not anonymously. Feels good, doesn’t it, pup? My thickest cock deep inside you, nudging right up against your insides. Awwh, you can’t even fully slide down on it down yourself. Its so big, isn’t it, darling? Dumb toy, I’ll do it myself. Like it when I wrap my soft hands around your hips and push myself deep into you until you’re full to the hilt? That’s it, just like that, puppy. You’re just a pretty cocksleeve, understood, my toy? You thought I was going to fuck you? No no, darling, only smart puppies get railed. Show me how well you can sit still and then I might fuck your stupid little brains out. Shhh, such a noisy pup, whining and moaning for me. I’m already in you, pupslut, is that not enough? Hm? Don’t fuss, you’ll get what you want, sweet thing, much more than that. Awwh, you like it when I pound up into you? Listen to all the pretty noises your tight hole’s making for me. Too much, puppy? I’ve just begun. Take it, c’mon, I know you can, dumb pup. You can't cum anymore? I don’t care, fuckmutt, take it. Take my big cock like the good toy that you are. That’s it, darling, cum for me again, you’ve got at least five more in you. Fucked stupid, puppy? So incoherent, just babbling senselessly. Such pretty noises, how could I ever slow down with you whimpering like this for me. Cry all you want, I’m not stopping until I’m satisfied.

#m answers #lgbt nsft #topposting #puppy pl4y

40 notes · View notes

yellobb · 3 months

Note

Tell me about ye olde "cold case outline"

Ooooo I was hoping someone asked about this one when I first posted the ask game!!!!

From this ask game

Cold Case Outline

This is another WIP that my sister and I did that we actually fully fleshed out, but I am still holding out a bit of hope that one day I’ll actually write the damn thing.

Simon is a mechanic and Baz is an Instagram model. They first meet when Baz brings his Jag in, and he’s immediately enamored with Simon in his oil-stained tank top, messy curls, and freckles. Simon immediately falls in love with Baz’s Jag and fawns over it, which does not help Baz’s predicament. He starts coming to the shop as often as possible with any excuse he can think of (oil change, tire rotation, “the building is just very aesthetic, Snow, so I need you to take my picture while I pose all sexy”). He even keys his own car at one point to have an excuse to visit him (it was a moment of desperation and he’s not proud of it, but he stands by his actions).

Simon lives with Penny and Shepard. Shepard is very into true crime and is hoping to start a podcast of his own about it. Shep visits Simon at work one day, but he gets very quiet and starts staring at Baz when he walks in to drop off the Jag, looking like he’s seen a ghost. Baz is visibly uncomfortable, so Simon kicks Shep out until Baz is good to go. He asks Shep what the hell that was all about afterwards, and Shep is like “that’s Baz Pitch”. “Yeah, and?” “Like, Natasha and Malcolm Grimm-Pitch’s son?! From the 2002 Olympics! Do you think he’d let me interview him for my podcast?”

It turns out, Baz isn’t just mildly famous for his Instagram presence. In 2002, when he was just five years old, his mother was an Olympic figure skater. The day of her event, she didn’t show up to warm-ups. She was found dead under suspicious circumstances over a week later. There are clips of some of her last moments where she acts erratically that went viral, and her case has fascinated the public ever since.

We didn’t get far on actually writing out this story, but what I did finish is a news report that explains the circumstances of Natasha’s death 👀 I’ve included it under the cut if anyone wants to read it! I’m actually pretty damn proud of how it turned out and have always wanted to share it, so I hope y’all enjoy :)

Natasha Grimm-Pitch Death Still Stumps People 20 Years Later

Natasha Grimm-Pitch, world-renowned ice dance figure skater from Great Britain and 3x Olympic medalist, went missing on February 9th, 2002. That morning, her husband and partner, Malcolm Grimm, woke up to find she had not returned in the night. Assuming she had stayed the night with her sister, Fiona Pitch, who had traveled with the pair in order to watch their 5-year-old son, Tyrannus Grimm-Pitch, while they competed, Grimm got ready for the day’s competition, but began to grow worried when Pitch met him at the Salt Lake Ice Center without her sister. She had met Grimm to take Tyrannus, known as “Baz” by those close to the family, but was shocked to find out that Grimm-Pitch had not returned to the couple’s room in the Olympic Village.

“Nat had come over the night before, yeah,” Pitch said, when interviewed about the disappearance the day after the event. “She came over to my hotel room to get some stress relief. I mean, this was her moment. She’d been out of the public eye for a while, after having Baz, and felt like she needed to medal in order to prove herself. I couldn’t tell you who she was proving herself to, though. She never cared what other people thought of her; not even me.”

Grimm was hesitant to alert the police, hoping that his wife had stayed with a teammate, but couldn’t hesitate any longer once warm-up was scheduled to start and she had yet to make an appearance.

“Nat would never have missed a warm-up, especially not now. She’s always on time. Something happened to her,” Grimm told the press the day of the disappearance. Grimm-Pitch’s disappearance caused a stir in the Olympic Village, especially amongst her teammates.

“I knew Natasha. That woman was a force to be reckoned with. When I heard that Malcolm had forfeited their position, I knew something was wrong. Everyone was uneasy as soon as we heard. I think we all knew, deep down, what must have happened. None of us even saw Natasha take a sick day. There was no way in hell she was going to let something stop her from competing again,” said teammate, Mitali Bunce, a year after her disappearance.

A mass investigation was launched into the disappearance, with state and local police leading the search. Grimm searched the streets with his sister-in-law in the hopes of finding her, often leaving their child in the care of the other British athletes. Though the ice dance competition continued, this would not be the case for long.

Natasha Grimm-Pitch’s body was found, washed-up in nearby Farmington Bay, on February 20th, just over a week after her disappearance. The Olympic Village, and the world, watched on in shock as her death was officially announced by the Salt Lake City Police Department at 11:08 AM. The Olympic Committee officially suspended what remained of the ice dance competition that evening, putting out a statement about the tragedy:

“In light of the recent tragedy involving ice dancer, Natasha Grimm-Pitch, the Olympic Committee has unanimously decided to suspend the ice dance competition for the remainder of the Olympic season. We ask the figure skating community to come together at this time to honor her legacy and mourn her loss. The Committee will reconvene in the next month to determine when the events will be completed.”

Her body was flown back to the family’s home in Hampshire, UK, but the FBI stayed in contact with British authorities for the resulting investigation. In the coming months, the mystery only grew. According to her autopsy, Grimm-Pitch had been dead for around 230 hours, placing her death sometime on the evening of February 10th, the day after she went missing. To make the case more shocking, she had only been submerged in the water for five days upon being found, meaning there was a six day gap between her death and her body being, supposedly, dumped in the bay. Despite this, she appeared to have died of natural causes, with nothing to indicate that she had resisted an attacker. There were already rumors in the news surrounding foul play, but things really exploded once security camera footage was made publicly available in April 2002.

In a now infamous clip, Grimm-Pitch is shown entering the Olympic Village at 3:00 AM, missing her shoes and the bag her sister claimed she left her hotel room with. Grimm-Pitch appears to be disoriented, running to hide behind walls and looking around wildly, despite no one being in the vicinity. The footage lasts six minutes, with Grimm-Pitch circling the building she was staying in, even briefly entering the entranceway before stumbling back out.

Her erratic behaviour combined with the confounding circumstances around her actual death threw the media into a frenzy. Every major news outlet reported for over a month with updates in the case, but no suspects were ever identified. It seemed that there were no leads whatsoever. The figure skating community and the true crime community alike waited with bated breaths to find if her death was ruled a suicide, homicide, or accident.

Unfortunately, the answer never came. In 2013, the case was unofficially closed after over a decade with no new information. The case has gone down as one of the most shocking and mysterious disappearances in British and American history alike. The Grimms and Pitches are still desperate for answers, though.

A year after the death of his wife, Malcolm Grimm officially announced his campaign for Prime Minister in the United Kingdom. Despite critics saying he was using Grimm-Pitch’s death to further his political aspirations, which had begun in 1997 with the birth of his son, he won the seat. With his victory, the most popular conspiracy theory surrounding Grimm-Pitch’s death was born.

Many people believe that Grimm knew their performance would fail, leading to them fading from the public eye. To prevent this, Grimm chose to murder his wife and use the sympathy he garnered following her death to get elected. He, allegedly, drugged her, waited for her to die, and hid her body in their room until, six days later, the police grew suspicious of him, so he dumped her body in the bay as a cover-up. Proponents of this theory claim that the mortician performing the autopsy was paid off to lie about finding drugs in her system.

Another popular theory surrounds Fiona Pitch. Pitch has a record of substance abuse, so theories have circulated about her, accidentally or otherwise, giving Grimm-Pitch more than she could handle (despite multiple sources stating that she never used drugs). The theory states that Grimm-Pitch managed to leave her sister’s hotel room before she started experiencing delusions and paranoia. Her sister, who had aided in the search for her, then found her body six days later, dead from overdose, and dumped her in the bay to avoid indicating herself in manslaughter. Many point to a 1995 case involving Pitch where her boyfriend, Nicodemus Petty, overdosed in their London apartment. Pitch herself barely survived the ordeal, but was saved when Petty’s sister, Ebeneza Petty, happened to visit that morning and was able to call paramedics. Pitch was convicted of illegal substance abuse and spent five years in rehabilitation facilities. She claims that she has been clean ever since.

Others believe that it was simply a case of mania, despite Grimm-Pitch’s nearly spotless mental health record. She had been prescribed Wellbutrin following the birth of her son, but stopped using it after only a year. To this day, the case remains unsolved.

Despite the rumors surrounding the family, they have seen unbelievable success. Grimm still enjoys a successful political career, but the star of the show is Tyrannus “Baz” Grimm-Pitch. He has grown a large following online, amassing thirty million followers on his Instagram since its creation in 2018. Grimm-Pitch enjoys a life as an Instagram model with an estimated net worth of nearly $10 million. Despite being in the limelight since his mother’s death, he has yet to publicly comment on the infamous case. His aunt acts as his manager, but abstains from all public appearances.

#m writes #m answers #tag game #wip #the simon snow series #simon snow #baz pitch #snowbaz

31 notes · View notes

weretheones · 1 year

Note

Daryl with inexperienced, gentle soul type reader (whose also a badass) headcanon pls 🥺 sorry you’re having a meh day…I feel ya 💕

daryl being with a soft, gentle soul is something so personal and beautiful to me because I really do think he needs that type of balance. he's grown up his whole life with this skewed mentality of 'love' and 'care', and we've seen how in earlier seasons he always equated softness to weakness. the idea of someone who stops on the road to pick flowers to tie into the little wisps of judith's blonde hair (with that knife he'd seen lodged into dozens of walker skulls at their hip, of course) breaking down that mentality and teaching him that softness can be strengthen just has me melting.

your tongue has never been quick or sharp, but every word you speak is meaningful. words aren't weapons to you, not like they were for his father or brother, and at first, it catches him off guard how honest and genuine you are. he wonders how someone like you, with your heart on your sleeve, could even hurt a fly, nevertheless a walker. how the hell did you make it this far, still as gentle and kind as before? he thinks its stupid when shane lets you go into atlanta, that he's sending you to your death. and when you come back, only to volunteer to bring merle back with him, he scoffs. you'd gotten out of the city alive once-- best not to push your luck.

when glenn gets taken, he sees the first hint of resilience in you. you don't give up. that idea, that softness was vulnerability, engrained in him since he could listen, seems to run contradictory to the very real and impressive example of you. shotgun in hand, even if you barely knew how to use it. even if you didn't want to.

after that, he finds his attention drawn to you in every discussion, watching the subtleties of your expression shift to your mood. he calls it curiosity, but soon enough he knows what every look means. he knows your quirks and the way you bite your lip when your uncertain-- he knows you.

he always second guessed himself before, never let himself believe that you liked him, that you had any reason to. and it might've taken a year of you showing him otherwise, over and over, but now, holding you in his arms as the soft morning light trickles into your shared cell, he knows it. he has no reason to doubt you, even if every memory of a mean dad and an absent brother told him otherwise. he's never known security like this until he met you <3 merle's affection and love was always conditional and temporary-- until he ran off for juvie or the military, until he skipped town again, until he met another doe-eyed and vulnerable girl. until, until, until... but you? he knows you're there after a long day, knows he can find you in alexandria's gardens or guard tower if you're not at home, knows you'll always be in bed before him. knows that even when you're pissed at him, you never hate him. that when you tell him you love him, you mean it.

anyway I just vomited like 500 words of this sorry <3<3 thank you for the ask & sympathies. I appreciate u more than you know. I hope u have a lovely day/night, cutie :)

#screaming and crying and throwing up (affectionate) I love this trope #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #daryl dixon headcanon #unlearning ur traumas slayyy #m answers #madi writes #kinda

290 notes · View notes

imabillyami · 5 months

Note

It was so random how PROTECTIVE Seth was of Jey? Like these two have barely interacted since Jey got to Raw and today you got Seth threatening Drew in the ring not to touch Jey, asking Jey not to do the match and him checking if Jey is okay. Then you had him and Sami wildin in their main even a few weeks ago. The homoerotica 🤌🤌🤌

Was it though? I mean… Seth and Jey have a good long history, so I don’t feel like it came out of nowhere. Jey’s always been Seth’s boy in some way. Plus Seth’s character is a lot more flexible when it comes to morals, always has been, so I’m not surprised he’s easily forgiven Jey and gone right back to protecting his boy.

(I very much agree with the homoerotica assessment though! These two are the definition of questionable decisions and bendable morals lol.)

#lovely anon #m answers #replies #asks #anon #seth rollins #jey uso

33 notes · View notes

maaxverstappen · 5 days

Note

Seeing these two posts back to back has me dying 😭

HAHAHHA the duality of f1tblr at its finest ... great work @oscarpiastriwdc 🤝

#maybe its carlos sr's viagra adventures that i'm inspired to write about #m answers

11 notes · View notes

mad-madam-m · 3 months

Note

The 3 Sentence Ficathon!! for WIP Wednesday please. Good luck with writing!

Your "good luck" must've been magic, because this is the longest ficlet I've written for the 3SF yet. (225 words!)

The prompt:

any, any, yelling at a gravestone

And the fill:

Tiger & Bunny, Gen, Seriously Maverick Is the Worst

Barnaby doesn’t intend to do it. He’s just finished visiting his parents, and on a spur-of-the-moment decision, he takes the long way back to his car so he can stop at Aunt Samantha’s grave and leave a flower for her.

But he turns too early—or too late—and as he’s scanning the unfamiliar markers looking for her name, they fall on one he’d hoped to never see again.

Seeing “Albert Maverick” is like a punch to the gut, and Barnaby freezes mid-step. He should keep walking, ignore it, go find Aunt Samantha’s grave.

Instead, he stops. And quite without his consent, the words start pouring out.

It starts off quiet, but by the end of it, he’s screaming, and he doesn’t stop until his throat is raw.

You took everything from me. You took everyone from me.

He fumbles his phone out of his pocket and dials without looking.

“Hey, Bunny!” Kotetsu’s voice is bright. “How are you?”

Barnaby can’t respond, but then again, it’s Kotetsu; he doesn’t need to.

“Bunny? Where are you?” Kotetsu asks, more serious now.

“The cemetery.”

“I’ll be right there.”

Barnaby nods, although Kotetsu can’t see it, and hangs up. Nothing can bring back what he’s lost, but Kotetsu reminds him of what he still has—the one person Maverick couldn’t take from him, despite his best efforts.

#m answers #auburnlaughter #M writes fic #M writes Tiger & Bunny #WIP Wednesday #Tiger and Bunny #Kotetsu x Barnaby #TaiBani

13 notes · View notes

roosterbruiser · 1 year

Note

hi! could i request something where jake secretly has an older daughter that he had with his high school sweetheart during their senior year and the squad finds out? i just love the idea of jake and his high school girlfriend being married and just as in love now as they were back then

𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐌𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲

𝐚 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞

Things hadn't always been easy with Jake--God, no.

Well, really, things had been downright blissful in the beginning. What were teenagers going to fight about anyway? You two just clicked--you knew you were right for each other.

Then you got pregnant. And for a while, actually, things had been really hard.

Between the fateful night of your graduation when your pregnancy test came back positive and the next eight months of your pregnancy, the two of you fought more than you ever had before. It wasn't just because he was trying to do the responsible thing by asking you to marry him--which, let's be honest; he had planned on doing that long before the positive pregnancy test--and the stress of planning the shotgun wedding you were trying really hard not to call a shotgun wedding. It was the hormones and the academy and the moving cross-country in the middle of a difficult pregnancy and all the growing up the two of you had to do so hastily.

The two of you had bickered here and there--which was bound to happen when you are devoted to someone from the seventh grade forward--but had never fought as passionately as you were while you were pregnant. It was senseless arguments, ones sprinkled in between trainings and morning sickness and job searches and taping boxes.

It wasn't even that the two of you didn't love each other. That's what the most frustrating part of it all was, really; the two of you were stupidly in love. Like the kind of love people really only see on screens, which you would never say out loud (even though you know it's true), and wish for but usually never get.

Everything changed the day Charlotte was born. You went into labor in the middle of an impassioned argument--one that was going precisely nowhere, not that either of you would admit it--and made it to the hospital to settle in comfortably for a very uncomfortable seventeen hours of labor.

Young as you both were, scared (terrified, really) as you both were, exhausted as you both were--everything else in the world melted away when you held that little pink, squirming baby against your chest.

Jake had been a wreck, suddenly realizing how absolutely out of his element he was as a measly 19-year-old with a wife and baby on the way, but had not left your side for even a moment. And when Charlotte, that sweet and loud little thing, finally settled with her chubby cheek against the red skin of your chest--something changed in his body. Already he knew that he loved you--God, he loved you so much. But seeing you there on the hospital bed with your hair plastered to your sweaty head and your cheeks flushed and your eyes swollen from crying, that love suddenly expanded and overwhelmed him. He felt like he was going to positively drown in all that love.

As if you sensed it, you looked up at him with an exhausted sort of awe-struck look. Your eyebrows were raised, your dry lips parted, your cheeks flushed, your eyelashes clumped with tears.

"She's got your big mouth," you had said to him, laughing breathily, cradling her against you.

You were shaking--not just from the sheer effort of pushing that baby into this world, but from the overwhelming amount of love coursing through your veins for that little stranger in your arms.

It had made all the nurses and doctors laugh as they still hustled and bustled around your open legs, but neither you or Jake even noticed them. You were looking up at your husband--who was suddenly not that flirty boy with the sweeping blonde hair that let you put your books in his locker, but a man with tears of pride streaming down his face as he looked down at his newly-expanded family for the first time.

He thought he was going to explode--but instead he just sobbed out a laugh. Then he leaned forward and pressed your damp hair out of your face, bringing his salty lips down on your forehead again and again. His quivering hand pressed against Charlotte's back and God, he loved her so much already. He hadn't even really seen her face for the first time, but he knew she was fucking perfect. He could feel it just under the pads of his fingers, could feel your laughter and your tears beneath his trembling lips.

"No more fightin', angel. I promise. I'm sorry," he whispered against your skin, resting his nose against your temple, sniffing hard. "Don't ever wanna fight with you ever again, okay? Love you too damn much to be arguin' all the time."

"I love you so much," you whispered to him, lips trembling as they pressed against his wet ones, bones aching with tired. "I don't ever wanna fight with you again."

But as he cupped your cheek and nuzzled his nose against yours, peppering kisses all along your tears and flushed skin, you knew that he meant it. No more arguing. You knew something was bound to change, knew it would probably change once Charlotte was born, but you hadn't expected it to be so immediate. But you were radiating love now--so happy you felt like your heart was gonna fall out of your chest.

And the two of you, as devoted to each other and your daughter as you are, kept the promise with a fierceness. No more fighting--you meant it and so did he.

Now that you're used to deployments and special detachments and moving and all the rare beauty that is attached to life as a Naval aviator's wife, everything runs smoothly.

He loves that you still send him a picture of Charlotte every single day while he's not home--something you'd done since his very first deployment when she was a few months old. You never missed a day--like ever, which he still didn't understand the logistics of--and always wrote a paragraph about yours and Charlotte's day.

When she was little, it had been something like:

Today Charlotte and I went to the park. It was that cute little one by our house, the one with all the dogs and food trucks. She's getting really good at holding her head up on her own! And she's not so fussy anymore about tummy time, which is a relief. I got to read a little bit of my book while she napped on the picnic blanket. She wore that sunhat your mama got her (as seen in the attached photo) and laughed at a dog that came to investigate her. She's a big fan of animals--might be something to consider, huh? Right now, she is talking my ear off about you, telling me all about those bedtime stories you read and how your voices are so much better than mine. I get it--I'm obsessed with you, too. We miss you. Gonna go pray at the shrine we made for you, I guess. Get home safe, okay? We love you.

But right now, as Jake sits in The Hard Deck only a few days after the successful Uranium Mission, he's smiling as he scrolls through the emails you'd sent him that he's only just now able to read.

He's nursing a beer, shoulders slumped and lips pulled faintly upwards as he basks in the warm evening sun filtering in through the window. It's noisy as ever all around him--Rooster pounding away on the piano with Maverick right there next to him, Coyote and Fanboy shooting the shit as they play a truly pathetic game of pool, someone being thrown overboard--but everything's white noise when he reads your emails.

Your emails are a little bit different now--especially now that Charlotte is twelve. She's less apt to let you take pictures of her now, going through the make-a-face-at-the-camera phase or just running away at the first sign of your lens facing her. You managed to snap a good one the other day, one where her green eyes are glimmering in the sun as she sips on a lemonade. Jake looks closely at the picture and decides that the two of you are at that little bistro by your house that you like to walk to.

Your daughter's glossy hair is longer than it was when he left and God, if she isn't growing more and more beautiful everyday. She looks just like you. She's got your exuberance and even though he would never say it to you or Charlotte, she's even got the little crinkle between her brows that seems to just pulse when she's frustrated.

He rereads your paragraph again.

Well, good morning to you, Lieutenant Husband. I woke up this morning to your daughter's dog peeing on the rug outside the bathroom. And your daughter thought that was the funniest thing in the world until I made her clean it up! I'm a mean mom, I guess. But I made up for it because we walked down to Frankie's and I let her get the bottomless lemonade. Currently writing this during her fourth bathroom trip. Think we're gonna catch a movie in a little bit and then maybe get some ice cream after. We miss you, baby. Can't wait to hear your voice again. And even though she won't say it, I know Charlotte can't wait to take you up on that beach day you promised her. Be good, stay safe, stay alive, okay? We love you more than anything in the world and you're definitely gonna have to re-potty train Sandy when you come home!

He missed you two more than anything in the world. But what he missed the most was just the domesticity the two of you had blissfully settled into. What he wouldn't give to wake up to Sandy peeing on the rug outside the bathroom, to back you up when Charlotte groaned about having to clean it up, to walk down to Frankie's with the two of you and tease Charlotte for using the bathroom so many times, to go see whatever stupid Kristen Stewart movie is playing, to eat a cone of mint chip ice cream and take the long way home. He ached for it, really--even if he knew there was only a few more days until he'd be back in it.

He could hardly wait.

"Who's the teeny-bopper?"

Jake nearly jumps out of his skin, jerking back against the wooden booth and snapping up to look up at the squadron that has suddenly gathered all around him. It's Payback that's asked, his eyebrow perched as he leans in to get a closer look at Charlotte.

"God, she looks just like you," Phoenix adds, narrowing her eyes on what is essentially Hangman's mouth and nose on a much smaller face. "Younger sister?"

Everyone's staring at Jake now.

It isn't even that he's been hiding the two of you--he loves showing you off. But it's just that it hasn't come up and quite frankly, they've been a little busy the past few weeks.

Bob's always been good at reading people--so when he studies the photograph and then studies the redness in Hangman's cheeks and the way he wets his tongue nervously, Bob knows. Bob knows before anyone else--besides Maverick and Coyote, that is.

"How's my niece?" Coyote asks, clapping Jake on the shoulder with a sly grin.

Jake sighs, shaking his head softly at Javy before submitting to it all--thrusting his phone forward to let the squadron read your email and look at the picture of Charlotte.

"Niece? No way," Fanboy exclaims, brows furrowed. "No way."

But now Rooster is holding the phone, his mouth agape, zooming in on Charlotte's face and it is suddenly undeniable to everyone there--that is absolutely the spawn of Jake Seresin. Right down to the dimples and the green eyes, that is his daughter.

"Charlotte," Jake says softly, trying to choke down all that pride that is inching its way up his throat. "She's twelve. And she's the best person that's ever lived, obviously."

Phoenix would've snorted if she hadn't been so totally awe-struck.

"You taking all the credit for that?" Rooster quips, shooting a playful smirk Jake's way.

But Jake just holds his hands up in surrender, sighing as he shakes his head.

"I'll give that to the wife," he says fondly. "She's also the best person that's ever lived. Better than all of you combined."

Coyote takes a sip of his own beer before nodding.

"Oh, absolutely," he agrees at once. "That woman's a saint for putting up with you and raising that Hellion."

Javy's joking of course--he'd actually never seen a more communicative, loving relationship than yours and Jake's. And he'd never met such a well-rounded girl as Charlotte. She had a good head on her shoulders, put there by her parents. Javy was even sure that Charlotte knew more than he did already and she hadn't even finished middle school.

"A wife, too?" Bob asks softly, smiling as he reads your email.

"And a dog," Fanboy adds softly, scanning over your paragraph.

Jake hums, nodding, trying not to look too pathetically in love with you. Even though he is, in fact, pathetically in love with you.

"Going on thirteen years," Jake says. "Thirteen happy years."

And everyone knows that he means it, especially when he just glances back at his phone in Rooster's hands and smiles softly to himself. He is thoroughly in love with you and with your daughter--Hell, he just loves your shared life. He's itching to go home, even if a poorly house-trained dog is waiting for him.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Phoenix says, bumping him with her eyebrows furrowed.

"And when can we meet them?" Payback adds.

Jake is grinning now--just the prospect of his Navy family meeting his real family makes affection swarm his heart. He shrugs.

"Maybe we could figure something out before everyone has to go. I'm sure we can get Charlotte out of school for a couple of days. Family's a good enough reason for me--bet it will be for the wife, too."

He's gushing with pride--he's not even trying to, but he really is. Coyote is used to the way Jake practically glows when he talks about you and Charlotte. Hell, he even gets it. You're beautiful and funny and kind and whip-smart. You hold it down and make it look easy. And Charlotte is a perfect balance of the two of you, striking every single genetic sweet-spot.

"I'm shocked," Rooster says. "You're so...gooey right now."

"Yeah, Bagman," Phoenix says with a smile. "Going all soft on us."

Hangman wants to roll his eyes again. Really, he does. But he just can't. So he takes another sip of his beer, thinks about the way you would be cuddled into him right now and quipping back at Rooster as the two of you watch Charlotte sweetly order her third lemonade from Penny, and shrugs with a grin tugging on his lips.

"I guess I am," he smiles.

here is my tag list!!

if you liked this, consider checking out my Jake x You story!

2K notes · View notes

mr-m-murdock · 1 year

Note

I ABSOLUTELY ADORE OPF. AMAZING SERIES, CAN'T WAIT FOR MORE.

Ps. Any chance of a slightly jealous Natasha?

It's always reader who is the jealous one.

mine

| natasha x reader | only pretty faces |

warnings: jealousy? societal assimilation? misuse of a prompt for a pillow fight? sorry anon. (But if you want better jealous!natasha, go see fuck around and find out)

a/n: platonic!kate bishop x reader. natasha being dumb

"No, no, you cross your hands over for the first one," Kate says, pushing your wrists this way and that. "Look." She positions your hands palm up and pats them back and forth with her own.

"Okay," you say. Your legs are beginning to cramp. "Start again."

"Okay, sure," Kate says. She claps and you copy. She reaches out a palm, you flatten yours against hers and then you slip your fingers in between hers and grab hold before she can slip away again. The looks of shock, confusion, disappointment and careful amusement crossing her face in quick succession crack your serious expression and you can't help it: you burst out laughing.

Kate yanks her hand away, half-giggling. "Stop messing with me!" she protests.

"But it's funny," you say, your laughs giving in to little hiccups. "Let's play Super Mario again-"

"No, you beat me every time-"

"Please, Kate, please this is soooo boring," you groan.

"I'm giving you your preschool education!" Kate protests.

"I have two Master's degrees," you say, fixing her with a stare.

"Yeah, but you don't know how to play pattycake."

"You're a pattycake. Turn the TV on."

"You are so rude," Kate says, grabbing a pillow and swatting you gently with it. You raise your eyebrows at her.

"You are going to start a war you can't win, Bishop," you warn. Kate just giggles and swats you again. "Alright, that's it." You shove at her, toppling her to the carpet, grab the couch seat cushion, and begin to bludgeon her over the head with it. Shaking with laughter, Kate can do nothing but take it.

"Hey." You pause, the couch cushion poised to deliver a last blow. Kate pants on the floor. Natalia is standing over you, looking sharply curious. "What's going on?"

"She refused to play Mario with me," you grumble. Natalia's shoulders shift somewhat.

"Oh," she says. Like you've relieved her. "Right. Well, you brough it on yourself, Bishop."

"Eirgh," Kate groans.

Natalia touches your cheek, almost absentmindedly, then moves your hair behind your ear. "Don't have too much fun," she says, too lightly. Then she moves away, slow.

"That was weird," you say when she's gone. Then you shrug and bring the cushion down on Kate's shoulders, to squeals and weak protests.

requests | masterlist

taglist: @when-wolves-howl @fayhar @maggieromanov @waitingroom-pb @romanoffscottage @blackxwidowsxwife @lizlil @screechcat @maddess @natsaffection @haeva @diaryoflife @natashasilverfox @vicmc624 @strangegardentaco @phantomvael @lorsstar1st @blckrwidow @ima-gi--na-tion @paryl @aan-myouim @smallestavenger @lainjupi @d1s0nym @meimei-a @the-v01d @kqmui @s1ut4nat @btay3115 @idkjustliving2 @lokisjuicyass @mmmmokdok @silentwolfsstuff @olicity-boo @iliketozoneout

#m answers #written fic for anon #only pretty faces #kateb!#natasha!#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff #anon cuties

178 notes · View notes