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rootedinrevisions · 12 hours ago

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Bandaged and Bare

Summary: You and Tyler have always been partners. Teammates. Nothing more. At least, that’s what you told yourself. But when you stumble into a motel room together, soaked from rain and bleeding from a cut, it’s Tyler who stitches you back together. The tension that’s been simmering for years finally boils over in the dark, quiet hours of the storm. As wounds are cleaned and barriers fall, you both realize this was never just friendship, not really.

Warnings: Minors DNI. Injury and blood mention. Wound care. Explicit Sexual Content (Fingering, Protected PIV sex). Swearing / Explicit language.

Word Count: 4,262

Prompt + Pairing: “Let’s get you out of those clothes.” + Tyler Owens

The motel door slammed shut behind you, rattling on its hinges as the wind howled one last time before dying off. Rain still pelted the pavement outside, but the worst of it had passed. You leaned back against the door and laughed.

“Jesus,” you gasped. “We almost died.”

Tyler was dripping beside you, hair plastered to his forehead, his Wranglers and soaked flannel clinging to every inch of his frame. His eyes were still wild from the chase, but he laughed too.

“Worth it,” he said, grinning. “Did you see that rope funnel drop? She was a pretty thing.”

You nodded, still catching your breath, your limbs still slightly shaking with the aftereffects of adrenaline. Your boots squelched with every step as you moved toward the little table to toss your gear down. You only half registered the dull ache in your thigh.

Tyler started undoing the buttons of his flannel before shrugging it off.

“We look like hell, he muttered, glancing at you with a crooked grin. “But at least we’re–”

He froze mid sentence as his eyes dropped to your leg.

“Hey,” he said, quieter now. “You’re bleeding.”

You looked down, and sure enough dark red bloomed through the soaked fabric of your jeans, staining the dirt caked fabric along your upper thigh. You blinked at it, suddenly aware of the sharp, throbbing sting as the adrenaline started to wear off.

“Oh. Huh,” you murmured, reaching down to run your fingers over the fabric. “Must’ve caught something.”

Tyler was already moving to grab the first aid kit he kept in his bag.

“Sit,” he ordered, pointing to the edge of the bed. “I wanna look at it.”

“It’s fine,” you said, even though you limped toward him. “Really, it’s just a scratch.”

“That’s too much blood for a scratch,” he said as he crouched in front of you.

His voice had gone a little more serious. His hands were surprisingly gentle as he started to push your jeans up, but the soaked fabric stuck stubbornly to your skin.

“Stop. Hold on,” he muttered, glancing up at you. “We need to get these off so I can clean that. C’mon. Bathroom has better light.”

“I can do it, Ty,” you protested weakly, but Tyler was already standing, and heading towards the bathroom.

“Yeah,” he said. “But I’m doing it anyway.”

Unfortunately the motel bathroom wasn’t much. Just a tight space that barely had room for one person, let alone two.

You braced one hand on the counter, trying to catch your breath. The adrenaline had finally faded, which meant the dull ache in your thigh had bloomed into a deep, pulsing sting. When you looked down, you saw the blood had spread from when you looked at it just a few minutes ago.

You winced as your fingers fumbled with the button on your pants.

“Here,” Tyler said, “let me help.”

“No. I–I’ve got it.” You didn’t mean to snap at him, but the embarrassment was starting to set in. You were shaking now, whether from pain or the fading rush of adrenaline, you weren’t sure. The soaked denim stuck stubbornly to your skin as you struggled to slide it down.

Your fingers trembled again, missing the button completely.

Tyler stepped forward, close enough that you could feel the warmth of him despite your soaked clothes. He didn’t say anything this time, just reached out and gently closed his hands over yours, stilling them.

His voice was soft. “Let me.”

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly feeling tight, and nodded. He crouched in front of you. His hands moved carefully, undoing the button and dragging the zipper down inch by inch. The pants were clinging to your legs like a second skin, soaked and gritty with mud.

You hissed when the fabric tugged across the cut.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, glancing up. “Almost done.”

You bit your lip and focused on the wall as he worked the jeans down your legs, inch by inch, being mindful of the cut. When he finally got them past your knees, you stepped out. You were slightly unsteady, one hand braced against the counter to keep you from falling.

And then it hits you. You were standing in front of Tyler Owens in nothing but a mud streaked tank top and your last clean pair of underwear. The cute pair. The kind you almost didn’t pack because you thought “Really? Out chasing in tornadoes in this?”

You silently thanked the universe that you had chosen that pair and not the thong which was the only other clean option until the team stopped at a laundromat.

Tyler hadn’t moved, still crouched there, his face inches from your bare thigh as he examined the injury. You felt his breath, warm and slow, fanning across your skin.

“It’s not deep,” he said after a beat. “Shouldn’t need stitches.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t respond. Not when his hands were steadying your leg, his fingers brushing skin that hadn’t been touched by another person in far too long.

He reached for a clean towel and wetted it in the wink, wringing it out before bringing it to your thigh. The cloth was cold, and you sucked in a breath as it met the cut.

“Shit–sorry.”

You shook your head. “It’s okay.”

But your voice was quieter now, almost shaky. Tyler’s touch was careful and tender. He cleaned around the wound in silence, his jaw tight, but his breath even.

You watched the way his throat moved as he swallowed. Watched how his hands trembled slightly when he reached for the gauze and antiseptic.

“You okay?” You asked, needing to fill the silence with something…anything.

“Yeah,” he said, but it didn’t sound convincing. “Just wish I’d noticed sooner.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Still should’ve seen it.”

Your breath hitched when he pressed the gauze against your skin. Not from the sting, but the way his fingers lingered just a little too long. The way his eyes darted up to meet yours before quickly flicking away.

“Tyler…”

He didn’t look up this time. Just cleared his throat, and shook his head.

“Sorry,” he said again. “Just trying not to screw this up.”

He taped the gauze in place and sat back on his heels. For a long moment, neither of you moved. The only sounds were your shallow breaths and the soft, constant hum of the buzzing light above the sink.

His eyes lifted slowly to meet yours. His gaze dropped briefly, lingering on your tank top where it clung to your ribs, then lower over your thighs, and finally back up to your face.

Your heart pounded so hard you were sure he could hear it.

Then he pushed himself up and said, “C’mon, let’s get you out of these clothes.”

You weren’t sure if he meant it platonically as your friend or as something more. You didn’t answer right away. Your hand flexed at your side.

But you didn't stop him when he reached for the hem of your shirt. He moved slowly, giving you time to say no or stop him. But you didn’t. You raised your arms, and he pulled the damp and dirty tank up and over your head carefully. The soaked fabric landed on the floor with a soft splat right next to your jeans.

You crossed your arms over your stomach on instinct, not because you were cold, but because you were suddenly a little too aware of everything.

The way your old, faded bra clung damply to your skin, the straps slightly stretched, and the material thinned from wear. Comfortable. Reliable. But not remotely sexy. It’s not the one you would’ve picked had you known Tyler would be on his knees in front of you, peeling away your clothes like this.

Pair that with your cute lace trim underwear, it made you feel a little ridiculous.

You huffed a breath, half embarrassed, half desperate to break the tension.

“This feels a little unfair,” you said, voice soft but teasing.

Tyler tilted his head. “What does?”

You gestured vaguely toward him. Toward the way he still had some semblance of clothing. His white undershirt was clinging to his chest, soaking to the point of being practically see through. His jeans were darkened from the rain, molded to his legs. You could see the shape of every muscle, every flex beneath the fabric.

“You’re still dressed,” you said.

His mouth curved into a dangerous and knowing smile. Without a word he reached for the hem of his shirt. The cotton peeled away from his skin with a soft sound, sticking to his shoulders as he pulled it over his head and tossed it aside.

And then he was just there. Bare and dripping in front of you, water tracing the line of his collarbone, down his chest, and catching in the scatter of dark hair across his pecs and stomach.

Your eyes drifted lower. His Wranglers were clinging to his hips, low and tight. Your stomach flipped, heat curling in places that had no business aching this badly for your friend Tyler.

He didn’t say anything as your hand lifted on it’s own, your fingertips brushing the white gold chain that always hung around his neck. It was warm, despite the cool air conditioned air. Your fingers then moved over the center of his chest, tracing the dip between his pecs, through the coarse hair trailing down his stomach.

Then his hand was on your waist, large and warm. The skin slightly calloused but still somehow soft at the same time.

He stepped into you slowly, backing you toward the counter behind you. The edge hit the backs of your thighs, and suddenly all you could feel was him. The solid heat of his body, the way his breath was warm yet minty on your face, probably from the gum he had been chewing earlier.

His hand stayed at your waist, holding you there. You looked up at him, heart pounding so hard you could feel it in your throat. You lifted your other hand, sliding it up his chest, fingertips skimming across his shoulder. His skin was hot beneath the chill of the room, and when your thumb grazed over the dip of his collarbone, he let out a whisper of a groan.

“Been wanting to do this for a long time,” he murmured.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You were eye level with his mouth now, close enough to see the water beading on his neck as it dripped from his hair. His forehead dipped to yours, and he paused in one last breath of restraint.

“Tyler,” you whispered.

That was all it took. His mouth found yours in a crash. His lips were warm, tasting of rain and something sweet. You kissed him back with everything you’d never told him.

HIs hand slid from your waist to your lower back, fingers spreading and then pulling you in until you were flush against him. You gasped into his mouth, and he swallowed the sound greedily, his tongue tracing yours like he needed it to keep going.

Your hands roamed his body. Over his shoulders, down his arms, and up again to curl behind his neck. He pulled his lips from yours for a second to take a breath, and your finger hooked around the chain he never took off, tugging him closer until his lips were on yours again.

He pressed you gently against the counter, his hips pinning your legs against the cool tile. His other hand found your thigh, careful to avoid the bandaged cut, as it slid around to the back of your leg, lifting it slightly, coaxing you to wrap around him.

Your legs curl around him, tugging him closer until his hips are slotted against yours just right. Tyler groaned into your mouth, hands sliding lower over your waist and hips before settling on the curve of your ass. His fingers flexed there for a beat, and then without warning he lifted you.

You gasped, arms wrapping around his shoulders as he held you against his chest. The sudden movement pulled a soft laugh from your lips.

He carried you into the main room of the motel like you weighed nothing, and gently laid you down on the bed. The sheets were scratch. The A/C hummed noisily in the background. Rain still tapped faintly against the window.

But you didn’t care about any of that as Tyler crawled over you. He braced himself with one hand beside your head, the other cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly across your skin.

“You sure, darlin’?” He asked, voice low.

You didn’t hesitate to nod. “Yes, I’m sure, Tyler.”

His mouth was back on yours in the next second, this time slower. He kissed you like he meant to memorize you this time around. Like he wasn’t sure he’d get another chance, so he was going to savor every second and every kiss he got.

Your hands slid down his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. He was damp but beautiful, muscles flexing beneath your palms as you explored.

Somewhere in the haze of kisses and soft moans, your bra was pulled down. The straps slid down your shoulders as Tyler tugged the cups under your breasts. Tyler’s lips never left your skin as his hand roamed upward, thumbs brushing over your nipples making you shiver.

When his mouth followed, tongue warm and slow, you arched up into him, a soft moan escaping your lips.

“Fuck…” he breathed. It was like he still couldn’t believe he finally had you like this.

You ran your fingers through his still damp hair, tugging gently on the ends. You felt his lips twitch against your skin in response. His hips then pressed lower, his belt grazing your inner the, the cool metal feeling jarring against your warm skin.

He kissed lower then up again, along the line of your jaw. Across your shoulder. His hands roamed your sides, gripping your waist, your hips, your thighs like he didn’t know where to touch first.

The heat between you simmered, slow and steady, building with each brush of lips and each roll of his body against yours. He kissed you like he had nowhere else to be. Like this, like you, were the only thing that mattered.

And for a while it was. Just his mouth on yours, his hands tracing every inch of your skin, the heat between you winding tighter and tighter.

But eventually the need sharpened. He pulled back slightly, panting, sage green eyes dark and blown wide with want.

His voice was low and rough as he said, “If I don’t get these damn jeans off, I’m gonna lose my goddamn mind.”

You let out a breathless laugh, eyes drifting down to where the denim still clung to him.

“Yeah, not exactly fair,” you teased, echoing your earlier words.

He smirked, kissed you once more, and then rolled off the bed just long enough to shove the jeans down his legs and kick them away. You sat up on your elbows, watching him in the dim motel light as he rifled through his bag and grabbed a condom.

His finger tore the foil open and rolled it onto himself. Your eyes raked over him. Tall and bare, skin flushed, muscles tensing with every breath he took. That white gold chain still hung around his neck, glinting softly against his chest.

He caught you staring, and his lips curved up into a smirk.

“What?”

You didn’t answer. Just leaned forward and hooked your fingers in the waistband of your panties, and slide them down slowly.

Tyler’s breath hitched, and his gaze darkened.

“Jesus,” he murmured.

He was back on the bed in seconds, hands reaching for your bra next. It was already pushed halfway down your torso and he made quick work of tugging it off and tossing it to the floor.

Now there was nothing between you. No clothes. No storm. Just skin and heat and a history of silently wanting each other.

He settled between your legs, careful as his hands skimmed down your sides, pausing at your thigh.

“You sure you’re okay?” He asked softly, fingertips brushing near the bandage.

“I don’t care,” you whispered. “I just want you.”

That was all it took. He kissed you again, slower now, his body easing over yours. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, drawing him in as close as you could get him.

You sighed into his mouth when his hand slipped between your thighs. His fingers moved as he learned what made you gasp, what made you moan, and where that one spot was that had you arching into him. Your hips began to chase his touch.

“Fuck, baby…” he groaned when he realized how wet you were getting, his forehead dropping to your shoulder.

You whimpered when his thumb circled your clit again. Then his fingers dipped lower while his other hand stroked down your thigh like he couldn’t get enough of touching you.

He pulled back and slid his fingers from you before lining himself up. He pressed in slow. Your mouth parted in a breathless moan as he sank into you, inch by careful inch. He went slow, watching your face like he was afraid to miss anything.

When he bottomed out both of you stilled.

“Okay?” He asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, and Tyler leaned down, his mouth finding yours again. Then he started to move. Slow, deep thrusts that made your breath hitch every time he pressed into you. His hips rolled, the tip of his cock dragging against that perfect spot, and you dug your fingers into his shoulders.

He took his time. Kissed your jaw, your throat, your collarbone. Then his mouth found your tits again, sucking soft and low until you were whimpering beneath him. One of his hands held your thigh, spreading you open, and anchoring you in place. The other slid under your lower back, lifting your hips into his rhythm.

It was good. Great even. But you needed more. You wanted him. All of him. And you could tell he was holding back.

“Tyler,” you breathed, catching his face in your hands. “Harder.”

His hips faltered for a second. He looked down at you, stunned for half a beat. Then something shifted. He growled low in his throat, buried his face in your neck, and thrust harder. Not rough. But deeper. Hungrier. Like he’d been dying to but was waiting for you to give him the green light.

Your moans filled the room now, shameless and loud, echoing off the cheap motel walls. He fucked you like he meant it. His chain dragged across your chest, cool against your flushed skin.

He muttered your name like a prayer. You chanted his back like a sin.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, fingers tangling in his hair as your body started to unravel beneath him. He could feel it too. He felt you clenching around him.

“That’s it,” he groaned. “Come on, baby. Let me feel you come on my cock.”

You came with a sharp cry, stars bursting behind your eyes, nails clawing down his back as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through you. Tyler followed soon after, hips stuttering as he buried himself deep, groaning your name into your shoulder as he came hard.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. Just tangled limps, shaky breaths, and heartbeats hammering in sync.

Then finally he kissed you again. Softer this time.

He slipped out of you, and the second he did, a small breath escaped your lips. More of a whimper than anything else. Your body trembled slightly, eyes half lidded as you watched him start to shift away, his weight moving as he began to crawl off the bed.

“No–” you murmured, your voice low and hoarse. Your fingers brushed his wrist as you whispered, “Stay.”

Tyler paused instantly, his gaze meeting yours, soft and adoring even in the dim motel lighting. He leaned in, his lips finding yours in a lingering kiss.

“I’m not going far, baby,” he promised. “Just the bathroom. Be right back.”

You let him go this time, your hand falling back against the mattress as you watched him go. He disappeared into the tiny motel bathroom, the sound of running water following a moment later. The room felt colder without him as you laid there sprawled in the middle of the one bed with flushed skin and sore muscles.

A few minutes passed before he returned. He was shirtless still, but now a pair of grey boxer briefs sat low on his hips, and in one hand he carried the first aid kit. Again. This time though, he also had a small plastic pouch tucked under his arm.

“What is that?” You asked, your voice still rough with sleep and sex.

He smirked, climbing onto the bed and sitting beside you. “Wet wipes. I usually keep them for Boone. He gets chocolate everywhere.” His smile deepened as he looked over at you. “But figured they’d be good for…other messes too.”

You laughed softly, not even caring how you looked or sounded. “God, that’s the most dad thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

He raised an eyebrow as he pulled one of the wipes free and leaned closer to gently part your thighs again.

“Might be,” he said with a shrug. “But you’re not complaining.”

The first swipe was gentle, almost reverent in how he moved. You winced slightly from the sensitivity and his eyes flicked up to yours in concern.

“Too much?”

You shook your head. “Just tender. I’m okay.”

He continued carefully, murmuring something you couldn’t quite hear under his breath. Then once you were clean, he tossed the wipe into the small motel trash can and shifted his attention to your leg. The bandage had loosened during your…extracurricular activities, and was beginning to be stained with red again.

“You really don’t do anything halfway, do you?” He muttered, peeling the gauze back.

His jaw tightened at the sight of the reopened wound.

“I’ll survive,” you said, watching as he cleaned around the edges with a fresh antiseptic wipe. “Pretty sure you just gave me a reason to forget about it for awhile.”

He glanced up then, and that crooked knowing smile was back. “Glad I could be a distraction.”

You laughed again, the warmth of it curling through you like the last embers of a fire. He worked quickly, unrolling fresh gauze and wrapping the wound again, tighter this time, but still gentle. When he finished, he leaned back on his heels, surveying his work.

“There,” he said. “Good as new. Almost.”

“Thanks, Doc.”

He gave your ankle a little tap. “Now, what do you want to wear? Something from your bag?”

You hesitated, cheeks flushing despite that he’d just had his hands and mouth on places no one else had touched in a long time. “Um. All I have left that’s clean is a thong.”

His brows shot up. “That’s it?”

You gave a half shrug, before covering your face with your hands. “We were supposed to stop by a laundromat before the storm his today and I wasn’t exactly planning on sharing a motel with anyone.”

Tyler laughed low in his throat at that, before getting up and reaching for his own duffel. “Lucky for you, I’m prepared.”

He pulled out another pair of boxer briefs and tossed them to you. Then a white cotton shirt, well worn and oversized. You caught both and looked up at him as he walked over to your side of the bed.

“Want help?” He offered.

You nodded, sitting up with a groan. Muscles you didn’t even realize you had were already starting to ache. Tyler knelt on the bed beside you and helped ease the boxers up your legs, taking time not to jostle the bandaged thigh too much. Then he lifted the shirt over your head, helping guide your arms through the sleeps, his knuckles brush the curve of your waist as he tugged it into place.

Once you were dressed, you leaned into him, resting your head against his bare shoulder. His arm came around you without hesitation.

“C’mon,” he said. “Let’s sleep before you pass out right here.

You both crawled under the covers, the cold scratchy motel sheets no match for the warmth of his body beside yours.You nestled into his side, his chest a solid pillow beneath your cheek. His arm wrapped around you and began to rub gentle circles over your hip where the shirt had ridden up just a bit.

The room was quiet, save for the hum of the air conditioner and the faint rustle of blankets. You could feel the steady beat of his heart, grounding and safe.

You shifted just slightly to look up at him. “You okay?”

His lips quirked up. “I think I should be asking you that.”

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I’m good.”

Tyler kissed your forehead, a gentle press of lips against damp skin. “Then sleep, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

And you did. You let your eyes drift shut, wrapped in Tyler’s arms, sore but safe and warm. Maybe the world outside the motel was still dangerous with the second round of thunderstorms rolling in. But in that moment, tucked beneath thin sheets and the scent of him, you didn’t care.

He had you.

And that was enough.

#AugustPromptProject #Tyler Owens x Reader #Tyler Owens x You #Tyler Owens Fic #Tyler Owens Fanfiction #Tyler Owenst Smut #Glen Powell Fanfiction #Twisters Fanfiction

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rootedinrevisions · 22 hours ago

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So glad you enjoyed it! Thanks for reading!

Better Than My Dreams

Summary: You never thought your path would cross with Mark Reynolds again, not after everything. But fate and a second chance, bring you back together in the most unexpected way.

Warnings: Minors DNI. Explicit sexual content. (Includes one detailed, consensual sex scene that includes nudity as well as PinV intercourse.)

Word Count: 3,389

Prompt + Pairing: “Reality is even better than my dreams” + Mark Reynolds

Author's Note: GIF in header from @kaizsche

The street bustled with late afternoon life. Vendors packing up their stalls, bicycles rattling past on cobblestone, the scent of roasted chestnuts lingering in the crisp air. You walked between your parents, hand tucked into the sleeves of your coat, still adjusting to life back in England after your studies.

Your mother pointed out a new bookshop on the corner, and your father remarked on how the pubs seemed livelier. You were nodding politely, only half listening, when a familiar voice cut through.

“Is that who I think it is?”

You turned, heart leaping as your eyes landed on him. Mark Reynolds. Taller than you remembered. The Navy coat he wore only made him seem broader in the shoulders. His hair was a touch longer than when you’d last seen him a few years back. The smile was the same, genuine and beautiful.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he said with a soft laugh, stepping closer.

“Mark Reynolds,” you said, just as surprised. “You’re a long way from New York.”

“And you’re a long way from Juliet’s kitchen table,” he said, the fondness in his voice unmistakable. “What’s it been…three years?”

You nodded. “Just about. You look well.”

He leaned in carefully, his hand brushing your elbow, warm through the wool of your coat, and pressed a light kiss to your cheek. His lips lingered just long enough to make your stomach flutter, but not long enough to be improper.

“I’m glad to see you,” he said, stepping back. “Truly. Are you back in London?”

You smile and nod. “I’m here with my parents.”

He glanced behind you, finally noticing the older couple standing a few paces away. They wore nearly identical expressions: curious, polite, and trying not to stare.

“Mark, these are my parents.”

“A pleasure,” he said with a cordial nod to each of them.

Your father gave a polite nod. Your mother, however seemed a little more amused.

“Mr. Reynolds,” she said. “Are you the American we’ve heard about?”

“That depends,” he said smoothly. “Am I being praised or blamed?”

Your father gave a rare chuckle.

Mark turned back to you. “I don’t want to keep you, but if you’re not otherwise engaged, would you care for a short walk?”

You hesitated, looking over to your parents.

Your father cleared his throat. “I suppose it’s not uncommon these days for young women to walk accompanied…”

“But it’s still uncommon for you,” you mutter under your breath.

Your mother smiled tightly, trying to smooth the tension between her husband and her daughter. “We wouldn’t mind a bit of air ourselves.”

Mark didn’t miss a beat. “Then please, allow me to escort your daughter while you stroll at your own pace. You’ll have us in view the whole time.”

He held out his arm to you, and you accepted it with a faint sigh and an apologetic smile. “Thank you for being a good sport.”

You walked together through the gates of St. James’s Park, the busy streets fading behind you as gravel paths curved beneath the golden leafed trees. The afternoon had that muted quality London sometimes carried in late summer. Warm, but not hot. An evening sky painted in pale blues and soft oranges.

Mark glanced down at you. “You’ve been writing again.”

You tilted your head up, mildly surprised he could guess. “How do you know?”

“I remember how your fingers twitched when you were working on something. You used to scribble plot points in the margins of books, remember?”

“Thankfully I’ve outgrown that habit.” You said as you felt the heat creeping up your neck.

“I always checked the pages after you wrote something in them. You had a way with words.”

You laughed. “I don’t know if I’d go that far. But yes, I’ve been writing again. Mostly short things. A few essays, maybe a fully story if I can sit still long enough to finish it.”

His expression softened. “I’m glad. The world needs more of your voice.”

You glanced down at the path you were walking. “And what about you? Is New York everything you hoped it would be?”

“It’s noisy,” he said. “Restless. But brilliant in it’s way. I’m not sure it ever sleeps. But it keeps me moving.”

You turned toward him slightly. “Do you like it?”

“I like what it’s made me,” he said, then paused. “But it doesn’t feel like home.”

You nodded. “Nothing really does anymore after the war, does it?”

There was a silence between you. Not heavy, just thoughtful. The kind of quiet that settled when two people were carefully stepping around familiar feelings.

He broke it with a soft, curious question. “Have you heard from Juliet?”

You shook your head. “Not as often. She writes when she can, but Guernsey feels feels very far away sometimes.”

He seemed to consider that, then said, “She always had a bit of wanderlust.”

“She did.”

A breeze stirred the hem of your skirt. Birds chirped in the distance. And behind you, your mother’s voice lifted. A soft reminder that they hadn’t disappeared, only lingered.

You sighed and looked at Mark again. “They’re probably wondering what we’re talking about.”

Mark chuckled. “Then let’s give them something worth talking about.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Don’t you dare.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

But the way he looked at you, amused and warm and just a little too knowing, made you wonder if he already had.

The walk back to your parents’ home was a gentle one. The streetlights had flickered on by the time you reached the front gate, casting a golden glow over the stone steps of the townhouse.

Your father offered Mark a warm handshake while your mother touched his arm, thanking him politely for the company.

Mark turned to you last.

“I hope I didn’t overstay,” he said softly.

“You didn’t,” you said smiling. “I had a lovely time.”

He hesitated then, his hands deep in the pockets of his overcoat. The wind tugged at the edge of his scarf, but he didn’t seem to notice. His eyes were on you as he cleared his throat before continuing.

“I’m heading back to New York in a few days, but I’d like to see you again before I go. If you’d allow it.”

Your heart did something foolish in your chest.

“I’d like that,” you answered, a bit breathless.

A smile bloomed on his face, boyish and bright. “Tomorrow, then? Dinner?”

You nodded. “Tomorrow.”

“Until then,” he murmured before he reached out and gently took your hand, pressing a light kiss to your knuckles.

And with that, he stepped back and disappeared into the lamplit fog of the London street, his silhouette fading between the light poles.

* * * * * * * *

The very next morning, a bouquet of garden roses arrived at your family’s townhouse with a handwritten note folded inside thick ivory stationery.

Your mother smiled knowingly when she saw the flowers, and you tried not to blush.

That evening you were upstairs, tugging on a pair of earrings and running your fingers through your hair one last time, when your mother’s voice floated up the stairs.

“Sweetheart, you have a visitor!”

By the time you came downstairs, your mother was standing in the front hallway chatting easily with Mark, who was dressed in a crisp navy suit and dark tie. He turned at the sound of your footsteps, a smile blooming across his face that warmed you from the inside out.

“There she is,” he said softly. “You look beautiful.”

You noticed your mother cast a knowing glance toward the dining room of the townhouse. Your father appeared a moment later.

Mark straightened slightly,” Sir.”

Your father looked Mark up and down for a beat, then glanced at your mother. She nudged him, and he sighed through his nose.

“She’ll be back by ten.”

Mark nodded. “Of course.”

Your father eyed him for a moment longer, then turned to you. “Have a good time, sweetheart.”

And with that Mark extended his arm to you, and the two of you were out the door. Mark held the passenger door of his sedan open, waiting until you were settled before closing it and making his way around to the driver’s side.

He took you to a cozy, upscale restaurant on the edge of town, tucked just far enough away that the world felt quieter. The tables were candlelit, and the low hum of piano music filled the space. A host greeted the two of you and led you both to a quiet corner table already waiting.

Dinner was easy. Mark was a natural conversationalist, but he never dominated. He asked questions about your writing, your family, your thoughts on different things. The part you were most impressed by was that he actually listened to the answers. He laughed when you teased him, and offered thoughtful replies when you challenged him.

The food was exceptional. Stuffed chicken with herb potatoes, followed by a shared slice of chocolate torte.

When the bill came, Mark insisted on paying, insisting it was “his privilege.”

He walked you to the car, opening your door again. The silence as he drove you home was warm and comfortable.

When you reached the house, he walked you to the front steps.

“I hope your father approves of the time,” Mark said, glancing at his watch. “Nine forty six.”

You smiled. “He’ll appreciate the precision.”

Mark hesitated then, hands tucked into his pockets. “I’d like to see you again. Soon.”

Your heart skipped as you looked down a little nervously. “I’d like that too.”

There was another pause, and then he leaned in. It was slow and unhurried, like he was waiting for the slightest indication to stop.

When you didn’t give one, Mark’s hand lifted, brushing gently along your jaw before settling at the side of your face. His thumb swept softly across your cheek. His other hand found your waist. When his lips met yours, it was soft and sure. Unhurried but intentional. He kissed you like he meant it, like he’d been thinking about it since the moment he laid eyes on you again.

You leaned into him instinctively, your hands curling into the fabric of his jacket. His lips moved against yours. Once then twice, before he paused. His forehead rested briefly against yours. You smiled, heart pounding, nose brushing his as your breath mingled in the space between.

And then he kissed you again. This time deeper. Still gentle, but a little more confident. Like he couldn’t quite help himself. His hand slid to to the small of your back, pulling you just a breath closer, and your fingers found his collar, anchoring yourself as your knees went just the slightest bit weak.

When he finally pulled away, it was gradual, like he didn’t want to let go. His eyes opened first, dark and a little dazed. But lit with something unmistakably fon. His thumb lingered against your cheek before he smiled.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he murmured.

You laughed, breathless, as your smile stretched wide. “I think I’m starting to.”

He chuckled under his breath, like he didn’t quite believe this was real.

“Goodnight,” he said at last.

You hesitated on the step, still grinning as you looked at him. “Goodnight, Mark.”

And only once the door had clicked shut behind you did you press a hand to your lips, and let yourself giggle in the quiet.

* * * * *

The six months that followed that first date were a flurry of letters, crackling international phone calls, and brief weekends in London. All of them laced with stolen moments, and aching goodbyes.

Now you found yourself standing in the middle of Manhattan’s Upper West Side with your hand in Mark’s while your parents were off sightseeing.

“This is it,” Mark said, turning the key and pushing open the door of a beautiful brownstone tucked on a quiet street. “She’s a little old, but she’s got charm.”

You stepped in and gasped. High ceilings, crown molding, sunlight spilling through tall windows. Warm wood floors, a fireplace, and a cozy kitchen in the back.

“She?” You teased, as you walked further inside.

Mark smiled. “She. I just closed on her last week.”

“You bought this place?”

“I did,” he nodded, watching your face carefully. “I know it’s early, but I wanted something that felt…grounded. A place that felt like home. Somewhere I can imagine myself settling down.”

You turned slowly, taking in the space. “It’s beautiful, Mark.”

He stepped closer, and wrapped an arm around your waist. “I picture holidays here. Dinners with friends. Maybe a kid or two running down the hallway. A wife. A family.” His voice was soft as he looked down at you. “Someone to share it all with.”

You smiled, trying to hide how his words made you tremble slightly. “Sounds like a dream.”

“Yeah,” he said, his eyes still on you. “One I’d really like to make real.”

That evening it felt like the brownstone had been transformed. The lights were dimmed, a bottle of wine open on the counter. Mark moved around the kitchen with his sleeves rolled up. Something that smelled absolutely heavenly seared in a pan. Frank Sinatra played from a record player in the living room.

You leaned against the counter grinning. “You know this is totally unfair, right? Tall, handsome, and a good cook?”

“Just trying to impress a girl,” he smirked.

“I think you’ve already done that.”

He met your gaze, a smile on his lips. When the food was done, you at by candlelight. Roasted chicken, rosemary potatoes, fresh bread from the bakery around the corner. He poured you another glass of wine and the conversation flowed. It was slow and easy. Laughter. Stories. Comfort in being with each other.

After dinner you helped him clear the dishes, and when you finished washing the last of the dishes you turned and found him standing close.

You didn’t speak. You didn’t need to. His hand rose, brushing your cheek. His eyes flicked from yours to your lips. Slowly he leaned in, and you met him halfway.

The kiss was soft at first. Tender and slightly tentative. His hands found your waist as yours slid up his chest. Then he pulled you closer, one hand pressing gently to the small of your back, deepening the kiss.

You sighed against his mouth, melting into him. The weeks and months of waiting to see him again, of imagining were finally over.

When he finally pulled back, breathless and smiling, his forehead touched yours.

He kissed you again, this time slower. Softer. There’s no urgency, no hunger. Just the steady thrum of affection and something deeper settling into place. His hands slid around your waist, and pulled you closer. You melted against him, your fingers threading into the back of his hair. It was the kind of kiss that spoke in quiet promises and in unspoken truths.

You barely heard him the first time, his voice muffled by the brush of his mouth against yours.

“Marry me,” he murmured between kisses.

You froze, just for a second, before you pulled back enough to meet his eyes. “What?”

Mark’s lips twitched with a soft smile, his thumb gently swept over your cheek. Then he reached for something on the counter. Something you hadn’t noticed before. Then he lowered to one knee. You stand there, heart racing as he held a small velvet box and opened it. The ring caught the low light and sparkled beautifully.

Mark’s eyes found yours, steady and full of emotion. “I meant what I said. When I said I wanted to share this home with someone. I don’t want a future that doesn’t have you here with me. Will you please do the honor of marrying me?”

You couldn’t speak for a moment. Your hand was trembling as you pressed it over your chest.

“Yes,” you whispered.

Mark exhaled like he had been holding that breath for days. His hands trembled just a little as he took the ring from the box, the soft glint of the diamond catching the warm light of the room. He held your left hand in his, thumb brushing over your knuckles. His touch was tender, almost reverent, like he was afraid to break the spell.

Your breath hitched at the sight of it on your hand. It was perfect, absolutely perfect.

He stood and pulled you into him again. His lips brushed yours once then twice. His hands reached up to cradle your face as his thumb stroked your cheek with aching gentleness.

You clutched at his shirt, fingertips curling into the fabric as his mouth moved over yours with soft, steady pressure. He groaned when you leaned into him, and the sound rumbled through his chest.

“I love you,” he whispered against your lips, like a confession and a promise all at once.

“I love you,” you breathed back, and it was the easiest thing you’d ever said.

His forehead rested against yours for a long beat as his eyes fluttered closed. Then his hands drifted. One trailed slowly down your side, the other slipped beneath the hem of your shirt. His palm was warm against your bare skin, and the touch made you shiver. He didn’t rush. Didn’t push. Just explored. The pads of his fingers touched your waist, your ribs, the soft dip of your spine.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, eyes locked on yours as he gently lifted your shirt over your head. “So damn beautiful.”

You started to feel nervous, but then his hands were back on you. His mouth followed, leaving a trail of kisses down your neck, over your shoulder, and across your collarbone. Every press of his lips was slow and reverent.

When your hands found the hem of his shirt, he let you take it off of him. You looked at him, all of him. His skin was warm beneath your fingertips, muscles shifting as he breathed. He watched you with so much tenderness it made your chest ache.

He kissed you again, deeper this time, with more urgency but still that same care. When he laid you down beneath him, it was with a gentleness that made you feel treasured, safe and wanted.

“We don’t have to–” he murmured as his mouth brushed your jaw.

“I want you,” you whispered, as you cupped his cheek with your hand. “I want this. I want you.”

He exhaled shakily, and it was like that broke something open between you. This soft, glowing thread of longing pulled tighter, and drew you closer. His hands were everywhere. Your breath stuttered when he kissed down your stomach, when he slid his hand between your thighs, and when he whispered your name like a prayer.

Everything was slow. Measured. A steady build of heat and love and want until you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.

When he finally pushed into you, it was overwhelming. A stretch, a burn, but a perfect kind of fullness that steals your breath. He stilled instantly, brushed your hair back, murmured your name again, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“You okay?” He asked, voice rough with restraint.

You nodded. “More than.”

The way he moved was careful at first. Small shifts of his hips, each one sending a ripple of pleasure through you. And when your fingers dug into his back, when your hips lifted to meet his, that’s when it shifted.

It was not just about the heat, though there was plenty of that. It was the way he kissed your throat. The way he murmured that he’s got you when your breath hitched. The way he looked at you like he had never seen anything more beautiful.

It was slow and soft and full of every unspoken thing you’ve ever felt for him.

By the time you came undone, you weren’t even sure where you ended and he began. He followed you moments later, with a ragged moan against your neck and your name whispered like worship.

And when it’s over, he didn’t let you go.

He wrapped you in his arms, tucked you against his chest, and pressed a kiss to your temple that lingered longer than any before.

“You…this…my reality is even better than my dreams.”

#AugustPromptProject #Mark Reynolds #The Potato Movie #The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society #Glen Powell #Glen Powell Fanfiction #Glen Powell x Reader

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rootedinrevisions · 23 hours ago

Text

Jake is slowly becoming one of my favorite characters to write 🥰

And this version of Jake might just be my personal favorite to write! Thanks so much for reading and sharing!

Such a Tease

Summary: Jake and the rest of the Dagger Squad are spending a rare day off at the beach. You’ve been dating for a while now…just long enough for the butterflies to turn into playful teasing, and for Jake to know exactly when you’re pushing his buttons.

Warnings: Mild sexual content, semi-public kissing/touching

Word Count: 1,846

Prompt + Pairing: “You are such a tease!” + Jake “Hangman” Seresin

The sun’s barely risen when you pad barefoot into the living room, still wearing nothing but one of Jake’s old Navy shirts. It’s soft and worn, falling just low enough on your thighs to cover you. But just barely. You’re rifling through a beach bag, double-checking that you packed sunscreen and sunglasses, when you hear him behind you.

“You tryna kill me before we even leave the house?” Jake’s voice is still a little raspy from sleep, but there’s no mistaking the smirk wrapped around it.

You glance over your shoulder, and raise a brow acting innocent. “What?”

He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes very obviously not on your face. “That shirt’s barely holding on, darlin’. And you keep bending over like you don’t know what you’re doing."

You roll your eyes, a little smirk tugging at your lips. “You’re the one who left it out. It's not my fault it’s comfy.”

Jake pushes off the doorframe and walks over to you. His eyes still trailing down your legs like he’s memorizing the view.

Just when you think he’s about to reach for you, you step around him to go grab your swimsuit from the bedroom.

“Better hurry, Seresin. We’ve got a beach to get to.”

He watches you go, shaking his head, and mutters just loud enough for you to hear, “Gonna make you pay for that later.”

* * * * *

The drive to the beach isn’t long, maybe fifteen minute tops. But with the way you keep adjusting your bikini top, it’s shaping up to be the longest fifteen minutes of his life.

Jake’s got one hand on the wheel, the other resting on his thigh. His sunglasses are on, but they’re not hiding how often he’s glancing sideways at you.

You’re twisted slightly in your seat, trying to adjust the tie on your bikini top.

“Is it crooked?” You asked as you tug at the fabric and shift your chest back and forth. “It feels crooked.”

Jake’s jaw tightens. His eyes flick away from the road for a second too long.

“You’re gonna make us crash.” He warns.

You blink at him, feigning confusion. “What? I’m just trying to fix it.”

“You’re trying to make me drive off the damn road,” he mutters, tightening his grip on the wheel.

You smirk, catching the way he adjusts the board shorts he’s wearing.

“You’re that distracted?”

He starts to slow slightly as you approach a red light. When he looks over at you, you adjust the top one more time, adjusting the cups and pushing the fabric together slightly to give him a better view of your cleavage.

Jake’s eyes rake over your chest and he mutters a quick, “Tease,” before the light turns green and he starts to accelerate again.

You lean over the console, and Jake stiffens beside you the second your body brushes against his. You pause, letting your fingers trail across his shoulder as you press a soft kiss to his cheek. His stubble is prickly against your lips as you whisper, “you love it.”

Jake’s grip on the steering wheel tightens even further for a beat before one hand slips off and lands firmly on your thigh. His fingers curl possessively, his thumb dragging slow circles that send a rush of heat straight to your core.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, darlin’,” he mutters, voice low. There was a warning in his tone, but it felt like more of a promise than a threat.

You smirk and sit back in your seat, pretending to adjust your sunglasses.

* * * * *

The beach is already alive when you arrive. The coolers are packed, towels scattered around, someone’s Bluetooth speaker is playing summer hits. The squad is in full sprawl out mode, claiming a prime spot near the dunes.

Jake pulls off his shirt with a practiced tug over the head move that should’ve been illegal, revealing sun kissed skin and those abs you had absolutely loved. His sunglasses slide into place as he adjusts his board shorts with a little smirk, catching you staring.

In response you pop the button on your denim shorts and shimmy them down your legs slowly, just enough to know Jake’s eyes are on you. You bend at the waist to slide them off completely, feeling the heat of his gaze on you.

A firm smack lands squarely on your ass, followed by a low whistle.

You straighten with a jolt, turning over your shoulder to give him a playful glare. “Seresin.”

He holds both hands up in mock surrender, the smirk never leaving his face. “You bend over in front of me and expect me not to smack it? I’m only human, darlin’.”

You roll your eyes and toss your shorts at his chest. “Behave.”

“Not a chance,” he says, and you know he means it.

You feel the warmth of the sun on your shoulders and reach for your sunscreen. You turn toward Jake, who had just settled in the sand with a beer in hand and his long legs stretched out on the towel. You hold up the bottle and tilt your head toward him.

“Think you can do my back?”

He raises a brow from behind his sunglasses and reaches for the bottle. He pats the towel between his legs and says, “c’mere.”

You settle between his thighs. The first cool swipe across your shoulders makes you shiver, and Jake’s breath catches just slightly as he leans in to press a kiss behind your ear.

“Cold?” He murmurs, his voice low and teasing.

You hum, arching your back just slightly as he applies a little more. His hands work slowly, spreading the sunscreen with careful and deliberate movements. They aren’t entirely innocent. And they’re definitely not subtle.

His hands slide lower, palms skating over your sides before dipping just under the edge of your bikini top to make sure every bit of exposed skin is covered. His mouth brushes the curve of your jaw as you lean back into his chest.

You turn your face toward him, your lips barely touching his in a slow kiss that lingers longer than it probably should.

“Jake,” you warn, grinning as you pull back. “There are children present.”

“So?” He murmurs, kissing along your neck again. “We’re just setting a good example for what love should look like.”

You snort out a laugh. “You’re such a tease.”

His hands slide around your waist, pulling you a little closer. “Takes one to know one, darlin’.”

“Hey lovebirds! Volleyball! Let’s go!”

Jake laughs and the two of you make your way over to where the rest of the group was. With how the teams were divided, Jake ends up on one team and you on the other.

You shoot him a look as you reach up to adjust your ponytail. “Try not to cry when I spike you.”

Jake’s grin is instant, cocky and dangerous behind his sunglasses. “You can spike on me anytime, sweetheart.”

A chorus of groans and “Jesus Jake!”s ring out from both teams. You feel the heat rush to your cheeks immediately. You roll your eyes and flip him off with a smile then turn take your place at the back to serve.

The game kicks off fast, full of chaotic energy and laughter as everyone drives for saves and jump for spikes. Jake, of course, is obnoxiously good. With his long arms, fast reflexes, and just the right amount of confidence to be a show off.

At one point he goes for a dramatic dive to save the ball, and lands flat in the sand. You jog up to the net and call out, “Need help getting up, old man?”

He wipes the sweat from his forehead and pushes up to his feet, brushing sand off his abs like he knows exactly what he’s doing. “Nah, just wanted to give you a better view.”

A few rounds later Jake steps up to serve, tossing the ball once before readying his stance. Right as he goes to serve, you oh so casually adjust the top of your bikini, pulling the straps just enough to catch his eye. His gaze drops for half a second, but it’s just long enough to throw him off.

The serve is lousy, barely clearing the net before Phoenix saves it with a bump that send sit straight to you. You jump, time it perfectly, and spike the ball right at Jake. He misses the block entirely, and the ball lands clean at his feet.

Coyote, Fanboy, and the rest of his team all groan loudly.

“Something on your mind, Seresin?” you call sweetly.

Jake just runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, trying to play it cool as his eyes drag down your body. You blow him a kiss before turning away from him.

Someone on his team mutters, “Get a room.”

Jake doesn’t even look away from you as he replies, “Trust me. I’m trying.”

* * * * *

The group eventually calls a break, everyone scattering toward the towels, coolers, and the shade of nearby umbrellas. Sandwiches are unwrapped, beers are cracked open, and someone changes the speaker to a new playlist full of summer anthems.

You are mid sip of your water when Jake leans in close behind you, his warm breath brushing your ear. “Think I left my drink in the truck. Wanna come help me find it?”

You arch a brow at him. “You need help opening a cooler?”

His intentions are clear with the smirk that appears on his face. “Not exactly.”

You follow him up the sand path, both of you pretending not to be in a hurry.

The second you are far enough away from the beach goers, Jake’s hand finds your waist and tugs you behind the cover of the truck. You barely have time to open your mouth before he has you pressed up against the side panel, his mouth claiming yours in a rough kiss. His hands find your hips, as your fingers twist the strings of his board shorts.

Jake pulls back just enough to whisper against your lips, “You really gonna tease me like that and expect me not to lose it?”

You smile, completely breathless from just a few kisses. “It worked, didn’t it?”

He growls softly, dipping his head to your neck. “Keep it up and I’ll skip dinner and eat you instead.”

Your laugh turns into a gasp when his hand lowers, slipping right under the fabric of your bikini bottoms to grip your ass.

“Jake–”

He kisses the corner of your mouth. “Not here, baby.”

You whimper, fingers digging into his skin. “Then stop touching me like that.”

He gives your ass one last, lingering squeeze before pulling his hand free and resting it on your hip. “Just wanted to remind you what’s coming later.”

You stare at him, slightly dazed. “Consider me reminded.

Jake winks, then pulls open the cooler to grab a drink so no one questions what the two of you were doing while you were gone.

“Come on, sunshine. Let’s not keep ‘em waiting.”

#AugustPromptProject #Jake Seresin #Jake “Hangman” Seresin #Jake Seresin Fanfiction #Jake “Hangman” Seresin Fanfiction #Jake Seresin x Reader #Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

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rootedinrevisions · 23 hours ago

Text

His buttons are fun to push! Especially with a payoff like that! 😏

Thanks so much for reading and reblogging!

Such a Tease

Warnings: Mild sexual content, semi-public kissing/touching

Word Count: 1,846

Prompt + Pairing: “You are such a tease!” + Jake “Hangman” Seresin

“You tryna kill me before we even leave the house?” Jake’s voice is still a little raspy from sleep, but there’s no mistaking the smirk wrapped around it.

You glance over your shoulder, and raise a brow acting innocent. “What?”

You roll your eyes, a little smirk tugging at your lips. “You’re the one who left it out. It's not my fault it’s comfy.”

Jake pushes off the doorframe and walks over to you. His eyes still trailing down your legs like he’s memorizing the view.

Just when you think he’s about to reach for you, you step around him to go grab your swimsuit from the bedroom.

“Better hurry, Seresin. We’ve got a beach to get to.”

He watches you go, shaking his head, and mutters just loud enough for you to hear, “Gonna make you pay for that later.”

* * * * *

The drive to the beach isn’t long, maybe fifteen minute tops. But with the way you keep adjusting your bikini top, it’s shaping up to be the longest fifteen minutes of his life.

Jake’s got one hand on the wheel, the other resting on his thigh. His sunglasses are on, but they’re not hiding how often he’s glancing sideways at you.

You’re twisted slightly in your seat, trying to adjust the tie on your bikini top.

“Is it crooked?” You asked as you tug at the fabric and shift your chest back and forth. “It feels crooked.”

Jake’s jaw tightens. His eyes flick away from the road for a second too long.

“You’re gonna make us crash.” He warns.

You blink at him, feigning confusion. “What? I’m just trying to fix it.”

“You’re trying to make me drive off the damn road,” he mutters, tightening his grip on the wheel.

You smirk, catching the way he adjusts the board shorts he’s wearing.

“You’re that distracted?”

Jake’s eyes rake over your chest and he mutters a quick, “Tease,” before the light turns green and he starts to accelerate again.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, darlin’,” he mutters, voice low. There was a warning in his tone, but it felt like more of a promise than a threat.

You smirk and sit back in your seat, pretending to adjust your sunglasses.

* * * * *

A firm smack lands squarely on your ass, followed by a low whistle.

You straighten with a jolt, turning over your shoulder to give him a playful glare. “Seresin.”

He holds both hands up in mock surrender, the smirk never leaving his face. “You bend over in front of me and expect me not to smack it? I’m only human, darlin’.”

You roll your eyes and toss your shorts at his chest. “Behave.”

“Not a chance,” he says, and you know he means it.

“Think you can do my back?”

He raises a brow from behind his sunglasses and reaches for the bottle. He pats the towel between his legs and says, “c’mere.”

You settle between his thighs. The first cool swipe across your shoulders makes you shiver, and Jake’s breath catches just slightly as he leans in to press a kiss behind your ear.

“Cold?” He murmurs, his voice low and teasing.

You turn your face toward him, your lips barely touching his in a slow kiss that lingers longer than it probably should.

“Jake,” you warn, grinning as you pull back. “There are children present.”

“So?” He murmurs, kissing along your neck again. “We’re just setting a good example for what love should look like.”

You snort out a laugh. “You’re such a tease.”

His hands slide around your waist, pulling you a little closer. “Takes one to know one, darlin’.”

“Hey lovebirds! Volleyball! Let’s go!”

Jake laughs and the two of you make your way over to where the rest of the group was. With how the teams were divided, Jake ends up on one team and you on the other.

You shoot him a look as you reach up to adjust your ponytail. “Try not to cry when I spike you.”

Jake’s grin is instant, cocky and dangerous behind his sunglasses. “You can spike on me anytime, sweetheart.”

At one point he goes for a dramatic dive to save the ball, and lands flat in the sand. You jog up to the net and call out, “Need help getting up, old man?”

He wipes the sweat from his forehead and pushes up to his feet, brushing sand off his abs like he knows exactly what he’s doing. “Nah, just wanted to give you a better view.”

Coyote, Fanboy, and the rest of his team all groan loudly.

“Something on your mind, Seresin?” you call sweetly.

Jake just runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, trying to play it cool as his eyes drag down your body. You blow him a kiss before turning away from him.

Someone on his team mutters, “Get a room.”

Jake doesn’t even look away from you as he replies, “Trust me. I’m trying.”

* * * * *

You are mid sip of your water when Jake leans in close behind you, his warm breath brushing your ear. “Think I left my drink in the truck. Wanna come help me find it?”

You arch a brow at him. “You need help opening a cooler?”

His intentions are clear with the smirk that appears on his face. “Not exactly.”

You follow him up the sand path, both of you pretending not to be in a hurry.

Jake pulls back just enough to whisper against your lips, “You really gonna tease me like that and expect me not to lose it?”

You smile, completely breathless from just a few kisses. “It worked, didn’t it?”

He growls softly, dipping his head to your neck. “Keep it up and I’ll skip dinner and eat you instead.”

Your laugh turns into a gasp when his hand lowers, slipping right under the fabric of your bikini bottoms to grip your ass.

“Jake–”

He kisses the corner of your mouth. “Not here, baby.”

You whimper, fingers digging into his skin. “Then stop touching me like that.”

He gives your ass one last, lingering squeeze before pulling his hand free and resting it on your hip. “Just wanted to remind you what’s coming later.”

You stare at him, slightly dazed. “Consider me reminded.

Jake winks, then pulls open the cooler to grab a drink so no one questions what the two of you were doing while you were gone.

“Come on, sunshine. Let’s not keep ‘em waiting.”

#AugustPromptProject #Jake Seresin #Jake “Hangman” Seresin #Jake Seresin Fanfiction #Jake “Hangman” Seresin Fanfiction #Jake Seresin x Reader #Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

254 notes · View notes

rootedinrevisions · 23 hours ago

Text

I think Jake Seresin could make the strongest woman (or man) weak! Thank you so much for reading and sharing!

Such a Tease

Warnings: Mild sexual content, semi-public kissing/touching

Word Count: 1,846

Prompt + Pairing: “You are such a tease!” + Jake “Hangman” Seresin

“You tryna kill me before we even leave the house?” Jake’s voice is still a little raspy from sleep, but there’s no mistaking the smirk wrapped around it.

You glance over your shoulder, and raise a brow acting innocent. “What?”

You roll your eyes, a little smirk tugging at your lips. “You’re the one who left it out. It's not my fault it’s comfy.”

Jake pushes off the doorframe and walks over to you. His eyes still trailing down your legs like he’s memorizing the view.

Just when you think he’s about to reach for you, you step around him to go grab your swimsuit from the bedroom.

“Better hurry, Seresin. We’ve got a beach to get to.”

He watches you go, shaking his head, and mutters just loud enough for you to hear, “Gonna make you pay for that later.”

* * * * *

The drive to the beach isn’t long, maybe fifteen minute tops. But with the way you keep adjusting your bikini top, it’s shaping up to be the longest fifteen minutes of his life.

Jake’s got one hand on the wheel, the other resting on his thigh. His sunglasses are on, but they’re not hiding how often he’s glancing sideways at you.

You’re twisted slightly in your seat, trying to adjust the tie on your bikini top.

“Is it crooked?” You asked as you tug at the fabric and shift your chest back and forth. “It feels crooked.”

Jake’s jaw tightens. His eyes flick away from the road for a second too long.

“You’re gonna make us crash.” He warns.

You blink at him, feigning confusion. “What? I’m just trying to fix it.”

“You’re trying to make me drive off the damn road,” he mutters, tightening his grip on the wheel.

You smirk, catching the way he adjusts the board shorts he’s wearing.

“You’re that distracted?”

Jake’s eyes rake over your chest and he mutters a quick, “Tease,” before the light turns green and he starts to accelerate again.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, darlin’,” he mutters, voice low. There was a warning in his tone, but it felt like more of a promise than a threat.

You smirk and sit back in your seat, pretending to adjust your sunglasses.

* * * * *

A firm smack lands squarely on your ass, followed by a low whistle.

You straighten with a jolt, turning over your shoulder to give him a playful glare. “Seresin.”

He holds both hands up in mock surrender, the smirk never leaving his face. “You bend over in front of me and expect me not to smack it? I’m only human, darlin’.”

You roll your eyes and toss your shorts at his chest. “Behave.”

“Not a chance,” he says, and you know he means it.

“Think you can do my back?”

He raises a brow from behind his sunglasses and reaches for the bottle. He pats the towel between his legs and says, “c’mere.”

You settle between his thighs. The first cool swipe across your shoulders makes you shiver, and Jake’s breath catches just slightly as he leans in to press a kiss behind your ear.

“Cold?” He murmurs, his voice low and teasing.

You turn your face toward him, your lips barely touching his in a slow kiss that lingers longer than it probably should.

“Jake,” you warn, grinning as you pull back. “There are children present.”

“So?” He murmurs, kissing along your neck again. “We’re just setting a good example for what love should look like.”

You snort out a laugh. “You’re such a tease.”

His hands slide around your waist, pulling you a little closer. “Takes one to know one, darlin’.”

“Hey lovebirds! Volleyball! Let’s go!”

Jake laughs and the two of you make your way over to where the rest of the group was. With how the teams were divided, Jake ends up on one team and you on the other.

You shoot him a look as you reach up to adjust your ponytail. “Try not to cry when I spike you.”

Jake’s grin is instant, cocky and dangerous behind his sunglasses. “You can spike on me anytime, sweetheart.”

At one point he goes for a dramatic dive to save the ball, and lands flat in the sand. You jog up to the net and call out, “Need help getting up, old man?”

He wipes the sweat from his forehead and pushes up to his feet, brushing sand off his abs like he knows exactly what he’s doing. “Nah, just wanted to give you a better view.”

Coyote, Fanboy, and the rest of his team all groan loudly.

“Something on your mind, Seresin?” you call sweetly.

Jake just runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, trying to play it cool as his eyes drag down your body. You blow him a kiss before turning away from him.

Someone on his team mutters, “Get a room.”

Jake doesn’t even look away from you as he replies, “Trust me. I’m trying.”

* * * * *

You are mid sip of your water when Jake leans in close behind you, his warm breath brushing your ear. “Think I left my drink in the truck. Wanna come help me find it?”

You arch a brow at him. “You need help opening a cooler?”

His intentions are clear with the smirk that appears on his face. “Not exactly.”

You follow him up the sand path, both of you pretending not to be in a hurry.

Jake pulls back just enough to whisper against your lips, “You really gonna tease me like that and expect me not to lose it?”

You smile, completely breathless from just a few kisses. “It worked, didn’t it?”

He growls softly, dipping his head to your neck. “Keep it up and I’ll skip dinner and eat you instead.”

Your laugh turns into a gasp when his hand lowers, slipping right under the fabric of your bikini bottoms to grip your ass.

“Jake–”

He kisses the corner of your mouth. “Not here, baby.”

You whimper, fingers digging into his skin. “Then stop touching me like that.”

He gives your ass one last, lingering squeeze before pulling his hand free and resting it on your hip. “Just wanted to remind you what’s coming later.”

You stare at him, slightly dazed. “Consider me reminded.

Jake winks, then pulls open the cooler to grab a drink so no one questions what the two of you were doing while you were gone.

“Come on, sunshine. Let’s not keep ‘em waiting.”

#AugustPromptProject #Jake Seresin #Jake “Hangman” Seresin #Jake Seresin Fanfiction #Jake “Hangman” Seresin Fanfiction #Jake Seresin x Reader #Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

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rootedinrevisions · 23 hours ago

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Thanks for reading and sharing! Glad you enjoyed it! :)

Such a Tease

Warnings: Mild sexual content, semi-public kissing/touching

Word Count: 1,846

Prompt + Pairing: “You are such a tease!” + Jake “Hangman” Seresin

“You tryna kill me before we even leave the house?” Jake’s voice is still a little raspy from sleep, but there’s no mistaking the smirk wrapped around it.

You glance over your shoulder, and raise a brow acting innocent. “What?”

You roll your eyes, a little smirk tugging at your lips. “You’re the one who left it out. It's not my fault it’s comfy.”

Jake pushes off the doorframe and walks over to you. His eyes still trailing down your legs like he’s memorizing the view.

Just when you think he’s about to reach for you, you step around him to go grab your swimsuit from the bedroom.

“Better hurry, Seresin. We’ve got a beach to get to.”

He watches you go, shaking his head, and mutters just loud enough for you to hear, “Gonna make you pay for that later.”

* * * * *

The drive to the beach isn’t long, maybe fifteen minute tops. But with the way you keep adjusting your bikini top, it’s shaping up to be the longest fifteen minutes of his life.

Jake’s got one hand on the wheel, the other resting on his thigh. His sunglasses are on, but they’re not hiding how often he’s glancing sideways at you.

You’re twisted slightly in your seat, trying to adjust the tie on your bikini top.

“Is it crooked?” You asked as you tug at the fabric and shift your chest back and forth. “It feels crooked.”

Jake’s jaw tightens. His eyes flick away from the road for a second too long.

“You’re gonna make us crash.” He warns.

You blink at him, feigning confusion. “What? I’m just trying to fix it.”

“You’re trying to make me drive off the damn road,” he mutters, tightening his grip on the wheel.

You smirk, catching the way he adjusts the board shorts he’s wearing.

“You’re that distracted?”

Jake’s eyes rake over your chest and he mutters a quick, “Tease,” before the light turns green and he starts to accelerate again.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, darlin’,” he mutters, voice low. There was a warning in his tone, but it felt like more of a promise than a threat.

You smirk and sit back in your seat, pretending to adjust your sunglasses.

* * * * *

A firm smack lands squarely on your ass, followed by a low whistle.

You straighten with a jolt, turning over your shoulder to give him a playful glare. “Seresin.”

He holds both hands up in mock surrender, the smirk never leaving his face. “You bend over in front of me and expect me not to smack it? I’m only human, darlin’.”

You roll your eyes and toss your shorts at his chest. “Behave.”

“Not a chance,” he says, and you know he means it.

“Think you can do my back?”

He raises a brow from behind his sunglasses and reaches for the bottle. He pats the towel between his legs and says, “c’mere.”

You settle between his thighs. The first cool swipe across your shoulders makes you shiver, and Jake’s breath catches just slightly as he leans in to press a kiss behind your ear.

“Cold?” He murmurs, his voice low and teasing.

You turn your face toward him, your lips barely touching his in a slow kiss that lingers longer than it probably should.

“Jake,” you warn, grinning as you pull back. “There are children present.”

“So?” He murmurs, kissing along your neck again. “We’re just setting a good example for what love should look like.”

You snort out a laugh. “You’re such a tease.”

His hands slide around your waist, pulling you a little closer. “Takes one to know one, darlin’.”

“Hey lovebirds! Volleyball! Let’s go!”

Jake laughs and the two of you make your way over to where the rest of the group was. With how the teams were divided, Jake ends up on one team and you on the other.

You shoot him a look as you reach up to adjust your ponytail. “Try not to cry when I spike you.”

Jake’s grin is instant, cocky and dangerous behind his sunglasses. “You can spike on me anytime, sweetheart.”

At one point he goes for a dramatic dive to save the ball, and lands flat in the sand. You jog up to the net and call out, “Need help getting up, old man?”

He wipes the sweat from his forehead and pushes up to his feet, brushing sand off his abs like he knows exactly what he’s doing. “Nah, just wanted to give you a better view.”

Coyote, Fanboy, and the rest of his team all groan loudly.

“Something on your mind, Seresin?” you call sweetly.

Jake just runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, trying to play it cool as his eyes drag down your body. You blow him a kiss before turning away from him.

Someone on his team mutters, “Get a room.”

Jake doesn’t even look away from you as he replies, “Trust me. I’m trying.”

* * * * *

You are mid sip of your water when Jake leans in close behind you, his warm breath brushing your ear. “Think I left my drink in the truck. Wanna come help me find it?”

You arch a brow at him. “You need help opening a cooler?”

His intentions are clear with the smirk that appears on his face. “Not exactly.”

You follow him up the sand path, both of you pretending not to be in a hurry.

Jake pulls back just enough to whisper against your lips, “You really gonna tease me like that and expect me not to lose it?”

You smile, completely breathless from just a few kisses. “It worked, didn’t it?”

He growls softly, dipping his head to your neck. “Keep it up and I’ll skip dinner and eat you instead.”

Your laugh turns into a gasp when his hand lowers, slipping right under the fabric of your bikini bottoms to grip your ass.

“Jake–”

He kisses the corner of your mouth. “Not here, baby.”

You whimper, fingers digging into his skin. “Then stop touching me like that.”

He gives your ass one last, lingering squeeze before pulling his hand free and resting it on your hip. “Just wanted to remind you what’s coming later.”

You stare at him, slightly dazed. “Consider me reminded.

Jake winks, then pulls open the cooler to grab a drink so no one questions what the two of you were doing while you were gone.

“Come on, sunshine. Let’s not keep ‘em waiting.”

#AugustPromptProject #Jake Seresin #Jake “Hangman” Seresin #Jake Seresin Fanfiction #Jake “Hangman” Seresin Fanfiction #Jake Seresin x Reader #Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

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rootedinrevisions · 23 hours ago

Text

Glen is definitely swoonworthy! Thanks so much for reading and commenting!

Make You Mine

Summary: What started as a movie you worked on together, turns into something neither of you expected.

Warnings: Just some making out/heavy kissing. Mentions of alcohol.

Word Count: 1,367

Prompt + Pairing: “I want to make you mine.” with Glen Powell (RPF)

The party had long since wound down. What was once a house full of laughter, clinking glasses, and familiar music had melted into quiet. Low hums now played through Glen’s speakers, and dim light illuminated the living room of his home just outside Austin. You sat tucked into the corner of his oversized couch, legs curled beneath you, fingers loosely wrapped around a now empty glass.

The clock on the wall had long since passed 2:00 am.

Footsteps padded softly over the hardwood, and a moment later, Glen appeared, two fingers cradling a bottle of tequila and a small grin on his face. His tie was gone. Top buttons undone. The easy charm he wore so well was still there, but it was gentler now that most of the guests had left.

“You want another?” he asked, holding up the bottle as he settled in beside you.

You gave a lazy shake of your head. “I shouldn’t. I’ve gotta drive home.”

He leaned back, resting the bottle on the table without pouring it. “You know you don’t have to go anywhere. Guest room’s made up if you want it.”

You smiled, looking over at him. “You always offer your crew a place to crash?”

His eyes flicked to yours. “Only the ones I like.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It had never been with him. Even back on set during the long filming days, there was something about Glen that made the quiet feel easy.

But tonight, the quiet felt a little heavier.

Your gaze drifted over to him again, his fingers tapping against his thigh in beat to the music, his shoulders turned slightly toward you. His eyes weren’t on the tequila or either of your empty glasses. Nor were they on the stereo that was playing the music. No, his eyes were on you.

You blinked, and your question came out before you could second-guess it. “What?”

“What?”

“You’re staring,” you said, trying to keep your tone light, even as your heart kicked up.

Glen’s smile that came next was slow and warm, like molasses melting over heat. “Just thinking.”

You arched a brow. “About?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. Then he leaned in a little, elbow resting on the back of the couch, his voice a little lower than before.

“You.”

Your breath caught in his chest. He didn’t move closer to you, nor did he reach for you. He just let his words hang there in the air between you.

You don’t respond for a minute or two. But then you laugh, breathy and nervous.

“You’re not serious,” you say.

Glen just tilts his head, his eyes steady as he studies you. “I’m dead serious.”

You blink, searching for something clever to say. Something witty to quip back with. But your mind stutters.

“Did you hit your head? Or just have one too many tonight?”

He chuckles, and for a second, you think you’ve successfully diffused the moment. But then he shifts closer. It’s subtle. Not pushy. But deliberate. He drapes one arm over the back of the couch. His fingers graze your shoulder.

“I’ve been thinking about this,” he admits softly, “for weeks now.”

You swallow as you glance down at your hands before looking up at him. “Glen…”

“I know it’s not ideal.” His voice is lower now. Gentler. “And I get it, really. But I like you. A lot. And I don’t know if or when I’ll see you again if I don’t say something.”

“This is a really bad idea.” You whisper.

You don’t date people in the industry. It was something you had both discussed and agreed on. You especially don’t date co-stars or people you’re working with on a project. And here he was suggesting you break that very rule.

“I know,” he says. “But that doesn’t change how I feel.”

He watches you for a few seconds before continuing. Trying to catch any signs that you don’t want this. That this is making you uncomfortable. When he finds none, he continues.

“I’m not trying to mess with your head. Or make things weird. I just–” he shifts his hand, brushing your jaw this time, his fingertips feather light on your skin. “I want to make you mine.”

He doesn’t say it in a possessive way. There’s no arrogance in the words. Just a quiet reverence. A kind of certainty. He’s not claiming you, but maybe hoping you might want to be claimed.

Your hand moves before your mind can catch up. You reach out, hesitant at first. Your fingers find the soft cotton at the collar of his shirt, fingers curling there. He doesn’t pull away, and you take that as your sign to continue. You let your hand drift up, sliding under the fabric and across the warm curve of his neck.

You shift on the couch, rising slightly to your knees. You’re close enough now to feel the whisper of his breath against your lips.

Glen doesn’t move. Not yet anyway. He just watches you, his eyes searching yours.

Then, slowly, he leans in. His hand comes up, warm and sure, cupping your jaw. And when he kisses you, it’s soft. Intentional.

Your fingers curl at the back of his neck as your lips part against his. You melt into him without meaning to, and he shifts easily, guiding you forward until you’re straddling his lap. His hands find your waist, anchoring you gently but firmly, like he’s not quite ready to let go.

You pull back for air, just for a second or two.

Glen’s smile is softer now as he looks at you.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.

Then his lips are back on yours a moment later, slower this time. Exploring and learning. Taking his time like he has all night.

His hand slips beneath the hem of your shirt, warm fingers splaying against the small of your back. And then he trails kisses down your jaw, each one deliberate. He finds the edge of your neck with his lips, warm and open-mouthed, and gently sucks. Your fingers tighten slightly against his skin.

You breathe his name out, it’s barely more than a whisper. He answers with another kiss to your throat, and another soft press of his hand against your lower spine.

Glen pulls back just enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours. His chest rises and falls in a slow but heavy rhythm.

He doesn’t say anything at first. He just looks at you like he’s still trying to memorize every detail of you. And maybe he is.

Then, with a quiet breath, he presses one last kiss to your lips before pulling you into him. His arms wrap around your waist with an easy kind of strength, and your body molds to his instinctively. The room is quiet again, save for the low hum of music still playing somewhere in the background. The moment should feel charged. It should feel complicated. But it doesn’t. It just feels…right.

You curl into his chest, legs tucked beneath you, your fingers drawing idle shapes over the cotton of his t-shirt. Glen’s hand brushes a few strands of hair from your cheek, then slides into the rest of it, his fingers combing gently through it, like he can’t help himself.

He gathers it loosely at the base of your neck, holding you there. Not tight. Not forceful. Just there.

His hand stays in your hair, his thumb brushing against the sensitive skin at the nape of your neck as he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“Stay with me tonight?” he murmurs.

You nod, already halfway asleep. “Okay.”

Your eyes flutter closed, lulled by the warmth of his chest and the weight of his arms around you.

His voice comes one more time, low and rough and barely above a whisper. “You’re mine now, yeah?”

Your lips curve into a soft but sleepy smile.

“Yeah,” you breathe.

And then the night slips quiet again, the music fading, the world slowing until there’s nothing but the sound of your breathing and the rise and fall of Glen’s chest beneath you.

#AugustPromptProject #Glen Powell #Glen Powell RPF #Glen Powell Fanfiction #Glen Powell x Reader

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rootedinrevisions · 23 hours ago

Text

So glad you enjoyed it! Glen is just something else! Thanks for reading and reblogging!

Make You Mine

Summary: What started as a movie you worked on together, turns into something neither of you expected.

Warnings: Just some making out/heavy kissing. Mentions of alcohol.

Word Count: 1,367

Prompt + Pairing: “I want to make you mine.” with Glen Powell (RPF)

The clock on the wall had long since passed 2:00 am.

“You want another?” he asked, holding up the bottle as he settled in beside you.

You gave a lazy shake of your head. “I shouldn’t. I’ve gotta drive home.”

He leaned back, resting the bottle on the table without pouring it. “You know you don’t have to go anywhere. Guest room’s made up if you want it.”

You smiled, looking over at him. “You always offer your crew a place to crash?”

His eyes flicked to yours. “Only the ones I like.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It had never been with him. Even back on set during the long filming days, there was something about Glen that made the quiet feel easy.

But tonight, the quiet felt a little heavier.

You blinked, and your question came out before you could second-guess it. “What?”

“What?”

“You’re staring,” you said, trying to keep your tone light, even as your heart kicked up.

Glen’s smile that came next was slow and warm, like molasses melting over heat. “Just thinking.”

You arched a brow. “About?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. Then he leaned in a little, elbow resting on the back of the couch, his voice a little lower than before.

“You.”

Your breath caught in his chest. He didn’t move closer to you, nor did he reach for you. He just let his words hang there in the air between you.

You don’t respond for a minute or two. But then you laugh, breathy and nervous.

“You’re not serious,” you say.

Glen just tilts his head, his eyes steady as he studies you. “I’m dead serious.”

You blink, searching for something clever to say. Something witty to quip back with. But your mind stutters.

“Did you hit your head? Or just have one too many tonight?”

“I’ve been thinking about this,” he admits softly, “for weeks now.”

You swallow as you glance down at your hands before looking up at him. “Glen…”

“I know it’s not ideal.” His voice is lower now. Gentler. “And I get it, really. But I like you. A lot. And I don’t know if or when I’ll see you again if I don’t say something.”

“This is a really bad idea.” You whisper.

“I know,” he says. “But that doesn’t change how I feel.”

He watches you for a few seconds before continuing. Trying to catch any signs that you don’t want this. That this is making you uncomfortable. When he finds none, he continues.

He doesn’t say it in a possessive way. There’s no arrogance in the words. Just a quiet reverence. A kind of certainty. He’s not claiming you, but maybe hoping you might want to be claimed.

You shift on the couch, rising slightly to your knees. You’re close enough now to feel the whisper of his breath against your lips.

Glen doesn’t move. Not yet anyway. He just watches you, his eyes searching yours.

Then, slowly, he leans in. His hand comes up, warm and sure, cupping your jaw. And when he kisses you, it’s soft. Intentional.

You pull back for air, just for a second or two.

Glen’s smile is softer now as he looks at you.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.

Then his lips are back on yours a moment later, slower this time. Exploring and learning. Taking his time like he has all night.

You breathe his name out, it’s barely more than a whisper. He answers with another kiss to your throat, and another soft press of his hand against your lower spine.

Glen pulls back just enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours. His chest rises and falls in a slow but heavy rhythm.

He doesn’t say anything at first. He just looks at you like he’s still trying to memorize every detail of you. And maybe he is.

He gathers it loosely at the base of your neck, holding you there. Not tight. Not forceful. Just there.

His hand stays in your hair, his thumb brushing against the sensitive skin at the nape of your neck as he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“Stay with me tonight?” he murmurs.

You nod, already halfway asleep. “Okay.”

Your eyes flutter closed, lulled by the warmth of his chest and the weight of his arms around you.

His voice comes one more time, low and rough and barely above a whisper. “You’re mine now, yeah?”

Your lips curve into a soft but sleepy smile.

“Yeah,” you breathe.

And then the night slips quiet again, the music fading, the world slowing until there’s nothing but the sound of your breathing and the rise and fall of Glen’s chest beneath you.

#AugustPromptProject #Glen Powell #Glen Powell RPF #Glen Powell Fanfiction #Glen Powell x Reader

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rootedinrevisions · 1 day ago

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Tumblr Fanfic Etiquette

A/N: I was not planning on posting this but I've been seeing a lot of hate in multiple fandoms, which prompted me to create this. Hopefully this educates people/newer users and prevents anymore hate from circling. Also please feel free to reblog or add on if you'd like to.

NO hateful messages. That's gotta be number 1. I don't care what you didn't like about the fic. Unfollow the writer or scroll past it. Do not spend your day/night leaving a hateful message because you didn't like X, Y, or Z. Just move on. It's not worth it and at the end of day, solves nothing.

Do not pressure writers to update a series or to write more. We all have a life outside of tumblr and you really don't know who's struggling with their mental health and who's not. -- Instead, opt for encouraging words like. "Hi. Just wanted to say I love your writing and can't wait to read more from you!" This let's them know you love their work without pressure.

If the writer specifically did not ask for it, DO NOT give them constructive criticism on a story or their writing in general. This is very, very rude. And even though your intentions might be pure, it's insulting.

If a writer has posted a standalone fic, please do not pressure them for a sequel. Especially if you didn't even reblog or give them any kind of feedback. Another option would be: "Hi. I really liked [name of fic]. Do you have any plans to turn [name of fic] into a sequel?

Do not befriend a fanfic author just because you think they can get your work more likes/reblogs/feedback, etc. No one likes to be used. This is just really shitty. Befriend people on here because you like them. Not because of what they can do for you.

Likes are nice, but reblogs are better. If you really like the author's writing, share their work or tell them via their ask box/dms how much it meant to you. Takes a second but means a lot.

If a fic author has a warning asking minors to not interact, respect it. Wait until your of age or find writers who are minors. Fanfic writers come in all sorts of age groups.

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