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purelyfiction · 2 years

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Small Doses

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x F!Reader | Part 2 |

Summary: Being top of your class comes with great opportunities and even better company, save for the obnoxious, devilishly handsome assholes who make you fall harder than you intended. Returning to North Island makes Knockout reunite with a ghost from her past, and forced to face the possibilities of the future.

Word Count: 7,032 words

Content Warning: This story will have TopGun: Maverick plot line elements to it and will possibly spoil the movie for you. Please be aware. This - and all of my stories - is 18+. By continuing to read you agree that you are 18 or older and that any content you come across is by your own discretion. || HEY THERE’S SMUT DOWN THERE SO YOU BETTER BE 18!!! (protected piv, fingering, just really hot and reckless nonsense)

Author’s Note: heyyyyy we’re here again, who’s surprised? not me.....nope. anyways, i really loved the idea i had behind this one, and i can’t wait to get it rolling. a huge huge HUGE thank you goes to @callsignthirsty for making this as hot as it is - I couldn’t have done it without her, she’s incredible and a true MVP for Beta reading what kind of was a mess to start with. Thank you Rowdy!!!

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What’s the old saying? Love is the loneliest place, when you fall alone?

No truer words had been spoken.

Leaving boot camp in Nevada had felt like a death sentence. Simultaneously one of the best and worst days of your life. Best, because your career was just beginning, you were turning a new page. Worst, because you had to start all your friendships over again. You had to leave him.

Maybe that’s why you threw everything you had into your career. You ate, lived, and breathed the Navy. First to rise, last to fall. People joked that it was your only personality trait, and in a way that was true.

You had common hobbies, no wild interests, and very few friends outside of work. There was no point when you were changing bases every three years. The friends you made at work were enough to keep you content.

Or so you convinced yourself. With each wedding you’re invited to, every birthday party, you realized you don’t have the support system or community that others had. You had your grandfather, your aunt, and your cousin, but the loss of your dad had been hard for you. Especially fresh out of high school.

Aside from your extended family, you didn’t have many friends. That’s a lie. You had Jake. Sort of. He wasn’t a complete asshole to you despite the way the two of you parted. He would respond when you reached out and you’d reconnect maybe once or twice a year. Called on each other’s birthdays. That was about the extent of it.

You hated that you still kept in touch with him despite how cruel he’d been to you that last day. But it was hard to let him go. He popped into your mind way more frequently than you cared to admit, especially when you knew you didn’t need the distraction.

So, you focused your attention on your career, instead. You flew through ranks as fast as your jets, bending with the wind and turning with the tide.

You’d made it to TOPGUN and frankly - it was hell. It was everyone out for themselves, and begging to be the admiral’s pet. The time you spent in North Island had not been pleasant. You’d learnt a million lessons while you were there: including how hard it was to be lonely.

Upon your promotion five years out, you were back in San Diego; no longer Lieutenant, but Lieutenant Commander.

The promotion has you electrified; suddenly, being back at TOPGUN wasn’t so daunting.

Especially since you were teaching this time around.

You settled right into your spot and quickly became Cyclone’s right hand. He had confidence in your skills and it showed, since he basically gave you free reign with your lessons. It was encouraging, how he spoke with you. Many of your conversations were natural and free flowing and it made you feel less isolated. Like you weren’t stranded - a sharp comparison to your first time on North Island.

When pilots came up to Fightertown, they would nearly pull out of the program when they heard your callsign.

One of the recruits had stood from his chair, on his way out and you cleared your throat. “Man, no. No fucking way. I’m out.”

“Sailor,” you bit. “You weren’t dismissed.” He slunk back to his chair, pulling it away from the desk where he’d shoved it back to its place. Slow steps found you standing next to his table looking down at him. “What’s wrong…” you glanced at his badge. “Jones? You bolted out of here pretty quickly,” you asked as he avoided your gaze.

“I’ve just heard rumors.”

“Rumors about what?” You crossed your arms, still looking at him.

His eyes finally steel back up at you. “You, Lieutenant Commander. With a callsign like Knockout… people talk.”

A grin fills your face when you hear your callsign. There was one point during your training that you’d hated the name. It had originated from one of your squad members when you’d begun boot camp.

A whistle fills the air as you approach the registration table. “Damn, look at her.”

“What a knockout.”

That name got spun on its axis the minute you got to the training grounds, outperforming the other ensigns, and breaking records left and right. Soon enough, your friends were using it, your commanders were using it - and Knockout was born.

You smiled at him before turning back to the front and walking to the lectern. “Well… they’re true. This career isn’t easy, and neither am I. ‘Soon as you realize that-” you give a cocky smile before the class, “-you’re golden.”

You loved your job, there was never any doubt about that. Especially when you got the chance to shut down the sexists that come into the ranks. Showing off your skill set and training them in the air to become better pilots and better people was one of your favorite things in the world.

The location isn’t a negative thing either. For as much grief as it had given you - some of the hardest days of your career - North Island bettered you. The town was small and the people all knew each other pretty intimately. So, as you come off the beach and into the Hard Deck in your bathing suit, you wave at a few familiar faces.

“No shoes, no shirt-” Penny starts at the sight of you and you smile as she hands you the bag you’d dropped off before going on your run on the beach.

“No service. I know, I know.” You let a laugh pass your lips as you take the bag, and move to the bathroom to change. As you pass by, you hear a comment that was assuredly referencing you.

“Did you see that girl? Man, she was gorgeous. I bet you twenty bucks I can get her number by the time you finish your drink.” You roll your eyes as you enter the bathroom. You’re quick to change into the dress you’d brought, fixing your hair before exiting again and spotting the man who’d made the comment. He follows behind you as you approach the bar again, grabbing Pen’s attention as she takes your bag once again and tucks it away.

“Can I buy the lady a drink?” The asshole careens his head into your peripheral vision, making you look at him with an innocent smirk.

“Maybe. What are we drinking?” you question as you take in his features. He’s pretty broad, kind eyes, and scars littered across a rather handsome face - a bushy mustache on his upper lip. Paired with the Hawaiian shirt and aviators around his collar, you’re certain you’ve found another pilot.

“I was drinking Corona, but if you’ve got a better idea?” He tilts his head and you wave down the other bartender serving with Penny.

“Can we get two tequila shots? On his tab, please.” You smile and turn to look at the male who’s definitely grinning now. When the bartender returns with the shots, lime wedges, and a salt shaker, you slide one over to him before prepping your own. He turns to face you with the shot glass in his hand. You clink your glass quickly with his before licking the salt from your hand, downing the liquid, and chewing on the lime.

“Whoo.” The male makes a face but lets out a laugh. “Didn’t peg you as a tequila girl,” he offers and you shake your head.

“You don’t know anything about me,” you retort, tossing the lime rind into your empty glass.

“I don’t, do I? What’s your name, beautiful?” He grins, leaning into his hand that’s propped up on the bar.

“You first.” You smirk as Penny drops off a tequila soda for you, making the man in front of you laugh.

“Well, clearly Penny knows you,” he offers as he waves her back down. “Can I get something with tequila in it?” he asks quickly, and Penny nods before going to mix him a drink.

“You got it, Rooster.” She gives you a look that you return; both of you well aware of the game that you’re playing.

“Rooster, huh?” You smirk, taking a sip of your drink, playing with the straw floating in your beverage while you make eye contact with focused hazel eyes.

“Yeah, I’m a pilot in the Navy. It’s my callsign. My real name is Bradley,” Rooster explains, just as a drink slides his way.

“I think she knows that.” Penny approaches and you give her a kind smile. “She’s an LCDR for Fightertown, Bradshaw.” You sip innocently at your drink again as a look of surprise and embarrassment falls over Rooster’s face.

“Shit, I am…” he starts, but you wave him off with a laugh.

“Relax. I was having fun. Besides, I got a drink out of it.” You wink, turning rapidly only to crash into someone behind you - a curse leaving you as your drink goes plunging to the floor.

“You gotta be joking.” The voice makes your face light up. The body turns to look at you - the expression on your face is one of surprise and soon, so is theirs.

“Kody!” He’s shouting above the sound of the bar, hands going into the air before pulling you into a hug after you set your empty glass on the bar. You give him a quick hug.

“Seresin, as I live and breathe,” you jape as you come out of the hug. The voice in the back of your mind sounds an alarm, but you’re immediately hitting the snooze button. He was here right in front of you.

“That’s my line,” he chuckles as he points a finger at you. You laugh along with him before looking down at the ground where your drink is puddled. His khakis are absolutely soaked but somehow he seems unphased by this. This is why you didn’t wear your uniform to the bar. Hangman kicks an ice cube before waving down the bartender to let them know about the mishap. “What the hell are you doing here?” he questions, sipping at his drink.

“I’m stationed out here,” you supply with a shrug, smiling at Jake. “You know, flying and stations and all that. Been here for a while now.” The information makes his eyebrows raise.

“You’re back at TOPGUN?” There’s an inkling of surprise to his question and you nod. A moment later, you look toward Penny as she sets another drink on the bar and Jake scoots out of the way to make room for the employee who’s been sent to clean up the mess you’d made.

“Yeah, I got my choice of assignments so I decided to come back,” you offer, walking with him to the pool table, taking a seat at one of the hightops nearby. Hangman leans against the table as he watches the current group playing pool, nodding as Payback sinks a ball into the far pocket.

“You got a choice? We were all dragged here.” He waves his hand, motioning over to the group that’s gathered toward the back of the bar.

“Well, I mean that was months ago, so.” You shrug and take a sip of your drink again before the conversation is interrupted with a ring of the round bell, making you look at Penny to see the sorry sucker who had to pay.

Maverick’s round kickstarts a night that takes your mind back to boot camp. Music blasts through the bar, drinks slosh as everyone dances and sings along with the jukebox. You’ve been waiting for Hangman to return with your next round of drinks, anticipating him and searching in the crowd, only for his hand to appear from behind you as he hands you a drink. His lips graze your ear as he shifts the cup to your hand.

“Pen’s out of Patrón,” he states, making you look in your cup. There’s mint and a lime floating around and you look back at him. There’s a toothpick clenched in his teeth, a smirk on his lips.

“Is this a mule?” you ask and he snickers.

“Oh c’mon, a little vodka ain’t hurt nobody.” He keeps the coy expression, his hand coming to the bottom of the cup in your hand and slowly guiding it to your lips. You laugh and shake your head.

“Okay, okay I’m drinking.” You giggle as you take a swig. The music changes over to a pop song you’re not too familiar with, but it’s got a great vibe. As the beat picks up, the vocals coming in, you’re finding yourself back up with a sway of your hips.

This time when you run into Hangman, it’s intentional. His free hand grips your waist when you make contact as if to steady you, but when your shoulders move back until you’re leaned up against him, he seems to get the idea. You’ve given him plenty of time to step away, but from the tightening of his hand around you, it’s clear that he won’t be stopping you anytime soon. If anything, Hangman pulls you a little tighter against him, strong hand encouraging the rocking grind of your hips into his lap. His breath washes over your neck, lips a hairsbreadth from your ear so that they practically kiss your heated skin. “You’re just picking up where we left off, aren’t you baby.” You can hear the smirk on his face.

When you’d first met Jake, he’d been a lot less cocky. That came with the training and the attention you’d given him over the course of your time together in Nevada. Nearly every waking hour that you weren’t in training or in jobs you’d spent with one another. You’d sneak away wherever you could get into — hall closets, cars, behind buildings, both of your dorms. The two of you had learnt how to keep quiet. He’d learnt where to suck his hickies into your skin without getting you reprimanded by your commanding officers and you made sure to keep your nail marks where no one could see them.

“Of course,” you said, arching your back so that your ass ground deliciously against the front of his khakis. Truthfully, you’d never wanted to leave that spot to begin with. “Where else would we pick up?”

Was it selfish of you to want another night with him? Maybe. But it was definitely stupid; especially after he’d nearly shattered your heart when you’d graduated.

After sweating your ass off standing in the blistering heat for nearly an hour, you’d almost cried when your grandfather grabbed your bicep. You’d hugged him tightly, grabbing onto Penelope who was nearby. You’d not seen or spoken to them in weeks, and they were the only real family you had. Despite the excitement of being reunited, you wanted to find Jake. You wanted to congratulate him - you wanted to say what had been on your mind the last three nights.

Packing up left you with a lot of reminiscing, a lot of time in your head. A lot of replaying lingering touches, careful advances, nights spent together drinking among other things. You were in love with Ensign Jake Seresin and you needed to tell him, before it was too late.

You’d found him in the crowd, happily grabbing his arm as he spoke with his own family. The glare that he shot you was unexpected.

“What? I’m leaving in like five minutes.” The man who’d opened up to you all those nights seemingly had vanished the minute his father was around.

“I just… what the hell, Jake?” You mumble, looking at him.

“What the hell to you. Can’t you see I’m busy?” His dad is grabbing his shoulder and pulling him away from you, leaving you in a sea of white, tears forming in your eyes.

It was like the last 10 weeks had just vanished. There was no Jake there. “Some wingman you are!” you shout in his direction. All you got was the back of his head.

“You make it sound like we’ve got some unfinished business,” the sound of Hangman’s groans brings you back to the bar as he tosses his neck back and finishes his beer. Beer-slick lips press to the delicate skin beneath your ear and you’re anchored back in the present. You follow his lead and try to finish your drink in one gulp, but some of the liquid escapes your lips, trailing down from the corner of your lips and down to your collarbone.

“Slow down, tiger,” Jake growls upon witnessing the alcohol trickling across your skin. “You’ll choke.”

Your stomach flips at the comment, your teeth latching on to your bottom lip to hold in a whine. Certainly wouldn’t be the first time - the words nearly leave your mouth, but you’re not sure you’re willing to admit that to the whole of the bar. You’re taking his cup from his hand, and peeling away from him to dispose of the cups, carelessly tossing them toward Penny behind the bar. When you return, you’re pressing yourself against him, chests both rapidly moving with one another.

One of your hands rests over the top of his as it slides back into place on your hip and rubs circles into your side, your other hand trailing up his firm chest to the sharp line of his jaw, cradling his face into the crook of your neck where he’s decided to hide. He’s just as affected by whatever this is as you are. You can feel it against your hip.

“I can slow down.” As if to drive your point home, your hips roll slow circles against his. You feel a groan leave him, his chest vibrating yours.

“Damn right you can.”

“But you don’t like slow,” you remind him. “You’d rather race to the finish line, all too eager for the reward.”

He nips at your neck which has you throwing your head back. Hangman huffs something into your neck, finally lapping at the beer drying there. “Better be careful there, sweetheart,” he bites and when he reappears from his hiding spot against your skin, his eyes are dark. “That mouth’s gonna get you into trouble.”

“And what if I want it to?” Your eyes are heavy and half-lidded. “We do have some business to take care of, Lieutenant.”

“Christ.” His head reels back, and the way that he says it almost sounds like a whine. “Let’s get outta here.”

“What?” you tease. “You don’t want to hang out here a little longer? I heard Maverick still owes another round,” you tag on as he’s grabbing at your waist, pulling you near.

“I don’t think that Penny’d appreciate it if I fucked you right on the bar in front of all these nice people,” Hangman growls directly into your ear and your jaw slacks at the imagery. “Now, march.”

You’re not going to wait for him to tell you again, so you grab his hand and drag him through the crowd. Penny will make sure that your stuff makes it home, you have arguably more important things to think about.

Hangman is all over you when you get to your front porch. His hands are on your waist, lips attached to yours and doing his damnedest to distract you from getting this damn key into the lock. With the door finally open, he’s following right behind you, not pulling away from you as you stumble over the threshold. You turn, attempting to close the door, but the door’s hard to reach through the wall of pilot driving you further into the house. Eventually, your heel drives the door shut, and a thud comes from behind you that makes the whole house shake.

Jake’s hands are on your hips, pushing you to the nearest wall, bunching the fabric in his big hands. Even after the years you’ve spent apart, there’s so much familiarity in his kiss, and his touch seems to burn through the cotton of your dress, your skin hot and clammy under his hands.

One of his hands vacates the spot on your waist with a final squeeze, instead grabbing both of your wrists in the breadth of his freehand, tugging them so that they’re pressed into the wall above you, secured by his strong grip. His other hand is picking at the hem of your dress, freeing it from your sweat-slick skin.

There’s not an ounce of regret in your body. How could there be when his hand is trailing up your thigh? Not a single word is spoken, the only sound in the house comes from sloppy kisses, the air filled with the smell of the ocean breeze, sweat, tequila, and Tito’s.

Hangman’s hand runs over your skin, massaging at your thigh. He continues to trail greedy fingers dangerously close to your panties, each pass leaves you pulling from his lips, best you can. “We should probably go to my room,” you gasp, voice barely above a whisper as you try not to ruin the moment. If he stops touching you, you’re convinced you might die.

“Oh c’mon, your windows aren’t that big,” he snickers, before he’s latching back onto your neck. A shift of your hips as you attempt to step away signals that you’re moving, with or without him.

Jake groans as he steps back, letting your arms fall but interlaces his fingers with yours as you lead him to your room down the hall. Once there, you hurriedly shut and lock the door before turning back to him. Jake’s already pulling his shirt from the confines of his pants, impatiently undoing buttons. You’re quick to assist, and soon you’re easing the fabric off his shoulders.

Jake’s got his undershirt off in a matter of seconds, hands reaching forward and grabbing at your waist as he kicks off his shoes. He’s guiding you to the foot of your bed, recklessly letting you fall back to the mattress.

“You’re just as stunning as you were then,” he whispers, crawling so that he’s hovering over you, an intense gaze of jade eyes meeting your own. You’re smothering the compliment before its spark can light a fire somewhere deep in you, sweeping it to the back of your mind so that you can relish in each wet kiss that brands your collarbone instead.

Burn me once, shame on you, burn me twice…

A light bite to your skin pulls you back to your room, hearing Jake’s low voice. “Where’s that pretty little head of yours?” he chides, making you look down at him.

“Thinking about how I’m still clothed,” you answer him, a taunting smile before a smirk of his own mirrors yours as his hands push up the fabric of your skirt. Fingers slide along your skin to hook beneath the waist of your panties and expertly shimmy the flimsy fabric from your hips, down your thighs and onto the floor.

“I dunno, I’d really like to see what this pretty sundress of yours looks like all bunched up at your waist while I’m balls deep in your pretty pussy,” he rasps as his hand trails nonsensical patterns along your thighs, drinking in every inch of you he can get his eyes on.

“Why don’t you find out?” You quip, and if your ass was in the air, you would’ve shaken it to entice him into doing something, but as it is he takes what you say as an invitation. Calloused hands skim along the inside of your thighs before talented fingers glide between your folds, spreading your slick without dipping into your heat as he keeps an intense gaze on your pleasure-slack lips. Your hips are moving of their own accord, squirming to try and get his fingers where you need them most, but he avoids your clit too regularly to be unintentional.

Jake’s lip curls up in a smug imitation of a smile when you whine. “You’re absolutely soaked.” His touch finally lands on your clit, applying enough pressure to make you suck in a breath, your eyes fluttering closed. “All this for me?”

“Yes,” you groan, rolling your hips into his hand for more of the sweet stimulation.

“You got no shame, do you darlin’?” Jake chuckles at your needy display, the throaty reverberations raising goosebumps on your skin where his lips pepper kisses. “Bet you saw me and just knew you needed my cock again, huh?” A finger buries itself in your heat, a slick, effortless glide up to his knuckle that has a moan slipping from your kiss-stung lips.

“Yeah,” you sigh, breath hitching as Jake curls his finger against the front wall of your cunt. “I missed you, fuck I missed you.” He’s seemingly content with the whine that leaves you as he slides a second finger into your heat and begins a torturously slow pace, stretching you out as his thumb draws lazy circles into your clit. Each press and swirl of those fingers drawing another soft whimper from you and fueling his ego.

“Oh yeah, princess. You need it bad, don’t you?” And you’d have liked to punch that arrogant sneer off his lips if he didn’t look so fucking hot propped over you, muscles in his shoulders shifting in your lamp’s soft light as he held himself over you and worked his fingers in and out of your soaked folds. “Tell me, sweetheart,” he began, licking a stripe up your neck and catching the corner of your jaw between his pearly teeth, “You been with anyone else since me?”

“Fuck you,” you bite back, because it’s been almost a decade since he saw you last. You weren’t a nun.

“Kitty’s got claws,” he teases as he squeezes a third finger into you. “Bet they haven’t been as good as me,” he muses. “No, you’re way too needy for that. They haven’t been satisfying you out here.” And you could die because he isn’t wrong and you hate that he’s seen straight through you not three hours since you’ve met back up. “Tell me, princess. After they leave, am I the one you think of to get yourself off?” Your hopeless moan is, mortifyingly, answer enough.

“Fuck, that’s hot, Knockout,” he groans into your ear as his fingers leave your cunt clenching around nothing. He draws his hand up to his mouth, lips wrapping around them as he pulls them from the heat of his mouth that you so badly wished was elsewhere right now.

“It’s like riding a bike, ain’t it babydoll?” A wicked grin splits his face and you let out an exhausted sigh at his arrogance.

“Would you shut the fuck up?” You bite as you slide a finger under the chain around his neck, looping the metal around the digit and pulling him down to you, your lips crash together. You can taste yourself lingering on his lips as your fingers continue to play with his necklace, the tags clinking against one another as you mess with them. Your own dog tags sat on your dresser not even five feet away. That was one of the few things you shared with him. That and whatever the hell this was.

Jake’s hands move to settle flat against the bed by your shoulders, caging you in as you steal his breath, hungry lips slotting together as his hips meet yours in a needy roll. The rough fabric of his slacks irritates your skin as he grinds into you, feeling the strain of his cock through the material. “Take your fucking pants off,” you growl, reaching toward his belt - in a flash, he’s on his knees grabbing your wrists again and throwing your entire body into a spin so your face is flat to the mattress. Hands roughly grabbing at your hips and pulling them up to keep your ass propped in the air.

“Last I checked, I was in charge, sweetheart.” You're reminded of how much larger he is than you when his hand easily grabs both of your wrists, crossing them behind your back and pulling ever so gently so that your shoulder blades are stretching the slightest bit. A whine leaves you and you can feel his presence grow closer until his hips are locked to yours again, leaning down to growl in your ear. “You don’t move. Understood?”

“I understand.” You confirm, only before his other hand is gripping your hair and tilting your head enough to look back at him.

“Wanna try that again?” He questions you with a dry coarseness to his voice, as though he’d not had a sip of water in days.

“Yes, sir.” You correct yourself, the statement somewhat foreign on your tongue. It had been a minute since you’d spoken it, in this context at least. With him.

Jake is upright again, pulling your body back to meet with his cock as it drags along the crease of your ass. The metal of his belt buckle sends a cool chill up your spine, a stark contrast to the heat pouring off of Jake’s body. His spare hand has left your head, and now is running carefully over your backside, slowing to a halt as he grabs a handful of your ass, spreading your cheeks to get a good look. “God, look at this. This is mine, isn’t it baby?”

“If it’s yours, why don’t you come and get it?” You retort, keeping a careful eye on him, only to see his jaw clench.

“So you wanna be smart about this, huh?” His grip tightens, his free hand returning to the back of your head and you’re nearly positive your wrists will be sore - possibly even bruised. He jolts your head to force you to make eye contact with him - the green of his irises long gone, lust dominating them. Jake lets your hair slip through grasp, hands dropping to meet the clasp of his belt, hastily undoing the latch and sliding the leather from the belt loops.

“I am smart, Hangman,” You can’t stop the way your lip ticks up or the mischievous spark lighting in your eye as you glance back at him. The brief glance you get is the sight of a foil packet between his teeth, furrowed brow included as you continue to taunt him: “I’m very smart.”

"And I—" you feel the blunt tip of him nudging at your slick entrance before he's pushing in. You let out a high pitched keen at the delicious friction as he slides home. "—am too good to be true.” His hand slides up your lower back, gripping your hip as he bottoms out, a quiet gasp leaves you.

“Not so smart now, are we, Knockout?”

“Hangman,” you seethe, scraping together every last bit of willpower you have. “If you don’t fuck me right now, I swear to G-Ahh!”

“Relax,” Hangman chides, hips retreating before they shift forward once more, “we’re just getting to the good part.”

A chill runs through you as his movement begins into a rhythm, one hand holding onto your wrists with what feels like all of his strength, the other keeping your hips still as his own collide with yours in each thrust.

“Good as you remember it, Kody?” Hangman asks, jerking your arms back so your chest lifts off the mattress for a second. He grinds against your sweet spot and you couldn’t stop the moan, even if you’d wanted to. “No, wait.. It’s better, ain’t it?”

Despite the ball of tension building in your stomach as his body rocks into yours, the response slips off your tongue, well knowing what the context would do. “I don’t know, I think Rooster might’ve been better if I’d given him a shot.”

He goes completely still the moment the words register, and for one terrifying moment, you think he's going to stop. But the words fuel something primal within him. The next rut of his hips into yours pushes you further up the bed, and he's somehow managed to push deeper into you, brushing against spots that haven't seen action in years. The hand around your wrists tugs until you're on your knees, leaning back against him as his other hand circles your neck and applies light, intoxicating pressure.. “Get that son of a bitch’s name out of your fucking mouth.” His teeth are sharp against the lobe of your ear. “Who’s cock is in you, Knockout?”

“Yours.” His grip on your throat tightens, ever so slightly. “Yours, sir.”

“That’s right, babydoll.” Warm lips hover over the skin under your ear. The next snap of his hips has you choking on a moan. "Only name I wanna hear you screaming tonight is mine." The statement is engulfed by the flames raging in your stomach.

“That all you know how to say now?” Jake asks with a breathy chuckle. “Yes, sir?” He groans at the sob that wracks your body, pussy clenching around him hot and tight. Your body desperately sucks in a breath, barely able to get any in with the grip of his hand still around your throat. “Look at you, gaggin’ for it. You’re such a needy little thing, baby.”

You throw your head back against his shoulder, embarrassingly close to the edge and lost to the push and pull of his cock against your sensitive walls. How had you survived without this for so long? Had the others really been that bad?

This thought, like all the others, is fucked from your mind with the next sinful roll of Jake’s hips. “Guess some things never change, Kody. All it takes to shut you up is my cock.” You whimper, nodding as you try to rock your hips to match his pace. “You gonna cum for me, baby?” Your eyes shut as you feel the hot breath of his pants on your skin, in a steady rhythm with each thrust up into you. “I think you are, I can feel it,” the words are broken up by tempoed pants, until his hands are back to your waist, “I wanna watch. Put on a show for me.”

A whine leaves you when he’s pulling out of you, but in short time, he’s rolling you onto your back again. You’re expecting him to slide into you again, but instead, arms come under thighs and pull you up from the mattress. In no more than five steps, he’s found a spot against the wall, dropping you up against it. With your back flush to the cool of the drywall, Jake’s filling you up again, arms flexing as he holds you up, keeping you above the ground as hips grind into yours. Each thrust is purposeful and harder than the last, the vibration of his movements echoing through the room, making furniture shift in time with his hips. Your head falls back to meet the wall as your core engages with each rut.

Jake carefully moves his hand to adjust your leg out, aiming to get even deeper, but with the change in position, your foot makes contact with a nearby lamp, sending it careening to the floor, glass crushing upon impact. “You asshole-“

“Worry about it later,” he snarls, lips quickly capturing yours as his rhythm starts to falter. Each snap up makes your entire body bounce upward, your stomach beginning to tense.

“Jay-Jake,” you’re pulling from his lips, desperate to get air as you grow closer to your climax.

“I know, sweetheart, I’ll get you there, I’ll get you, cmon.” His statement isn’t even coherent at this point as your body reaches the threshold, your blood rushing through you as your legs shake under him, cries reverberating through the room with each grunt from the blonde under you. “Fuck, look at you, did I do that? I did that, didn’t I baby?” His breathing hitches, strokes becoming shorter as he matches your timing to draw your high out. An elongated groan pairs with the slight shake that runs through him, his forehead coming to your shoulder to come down from the high.

“You broke my lamp,” you mutter.

Jake just clicks his tongue. “It was your leg,” he responds, hands carefully grabbing under you, navigating around the broken glass to find refuge in your bed, away from the dangers on the hardwood below.

“You broke it.”

“Are we still on this? You know I should be hearing ‘wow, Jake. That was incredible, thank you for making me cum’.” He pulls your sheets back and carefully drops you onto your bed, your head plopping onto your pillow before he falls to your side. Both of you are still somewhat dressed, energy spent.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you retort with a smirk, looking at him as his eyebrows furrow.

“For someone who just got fucked you’re giving me a lot of back talk.” He’s pulling his slacks all the way off now, having been tugged down just enough to get the job done. You sit up carefully to pull your dress completely off. A yawn escapes you as you’re attempting to release the clasp of your bra, feeling hands coming to the spot at the middle of your back, worn fingertips carefully undoing it.

“You’ve been waiting to do that, haven’t you?” You look down at him, seeing a grin fill his face as the garment comes off and to the floor.

“Eh, the show I got might’ve been better.” Jake responds as his hand grabs at your sheets and covers the both of you.

“Since when is Hangman not a boob man?” you question as you settle into the sheets, looking him in the eye.

“Now, wait a minute, I never said that-“

“Go to bed, Jake.” You grin, rolling away from him, reaching and flicking off the light switch to the lamp in a pile on the floor.

█ ✪ █▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█ ✪ █

Knock knock

You shoot up in your bed, his arm is lazily draped over your waist, making it fall as you sit up. When your brain registers, you’re quickly turning to a stirring Jake, your hand slapping over his mouth.

“Kody? You awake yet?” Penny’s voice comes from the other side of the wood door, leaving you to clear your throat.

“Yeah, I’m up.” You stifle back a yawn as Jake tries to get your attention. Using your free hand you slap his arm keeping him quiet.

“I need you to run and grab Amelia from Karen’s house, I have to get some cleaning done at the bar, things got a bit out of hand last night,” she explains and you nod.

“Sure, I can do that. That’s Karen M or Karen T?” you ask for clarification, slowly looking to the male in your bed, who’s just dying to get a word in.

“T. You know, the one on Silvershore?”

“Oh, yeah, that’s like ten minutes from here. Let me hop in the shower and I’ll run over.”

“Sounds good, thanks Kody.” Penny’s voice begins to fade as she walks away, leaving you to pull your hand from Jake’s jaw.

“Don’t mention it!” You’re looking over the state of your room, Hangman’s clothes are strewn about, glass all over the floor.

“Was that who I think it was?” Finally the pilot speaks beside you as you start to climb from your bed from the safest exit point.

“Penny? Yeah,” you answer, grabbing all of his clothes off the floor.

“You live with Penny Benjamin?” he questions, making you look at him with a sharp glare, hands pushing his clothes into his arms.

“Hey genius, my last name is also Benjamin,” you remind him as you grab your robe from a nearby chair. “She’s my aunt. I could’ve sworn you knew this,” you jab in his direction as he shrugs his shirt back on.

“Maybe I did, it probably got shoved- shit!” At the curse you look over and witness him examining one of the seams from his khaki trousers. “I broke the seam, damn it this is the only pair I was issued.” He groans, moving to stand up from the bed.

“Well maybe you should’ve thought about that before fucking me in them,” you scold, moving and undoing the latch on your window.

“What are you doing?” he asks, stepping into his pants, fastening the top as you slide the pane open.

“Preparing your exit - now hurry up?” You fan a hand in the air, trying to get him to move faster.

“Knockout, I am not climbing out of your window.”

“You don’t have much of a choice,” you sneer as he finishes buttoning up his shirt. With shoes back on his feet and ensuring he’s got the rest of his belongings, he points to what remains of the lamp.

“It was an ugly lamp anyways.” Jake shrugs, making you look at him with a slacked jaw.

“It’s Tiffany! Well-“ looking back at it, you correct yourself, “-it was. God, Pen’s gonna kill me,” you mumble with your hand over your mouth as you take a deeper look at the damage. There’s no salvaging it, that’s for sure.

“She named her lamp?” The idiotic question makes you turn to look at the man, one leg out the window, his hand gripping the top of it to keep him from falling.

“You don’t know- I don’t have time for this. Go.” You shoo him with your hands as though he was a loitering bird, making him snicker.

“I’ll call you?” Your attention was facing the door when he says it, making you look at him as he drops to the ground outside - thank God you’re on the main floor.

“What was that?” you ask again, just to make sure your ears weren’t playing tricks on you.

“I said I’ll call you,” Jake repeats before a hand rakes through his hair in an effort to tame any bed head.

There’s that stupid spark again that you have to stomp under your boot.

“Yeah. Get out of here, Hangman.” You give a falsified smile to him, watching as he starts down the path.

“Until next time, Knockout.” With a trademark wink, he rounds the corner of the house, leaving you to wonder if you’d made a mistake.

One time wouldn’t hurt - right?

█ ✪ █▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█ ✪ █

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ingravinoveritas · 3 months

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So al was asking ppl to ask her questions as her Fridays are so dull while her partner doing a play. Doesn't she find when she wiv michael it dull cos usually shows it or the other way round and then the bird one I found interesting cos since when have we seen Ms be protective over Al we haven't seen him speak or defend his relationship of what the journalists or ppl say about his relationship of what was said on weds where she defended it and and put a insta story about it we all know he loud but protective I think if he had to choose to protect or save someone it would be david hands down not al

What ur thoughts love to hear ur take on this

(Grouping together for ease of answering. @hyperfixating-rn-brb's Ask is referring to the last screenshot.)

So, I saw this as it was happening on Friday, and...yeah. I'm not sure what the impetus behind this random Insta AMA was (perhaps PR suggesting that Anna do something to counter her rash of recent off-putting social media posts?), but whatever the reason, choices™ were definitely made with some of (well, most of) her answers.

I think what struck me about the ones in these screenshots is how they’re lowkey insulting to Michael, but all in different ways (and not overtly, but passive-aggressively, as hyperfixating-rn-brb mentioned). It also seems odd that AL is currently in London, one of the most dynamic and attraction-filled cities imaginable, yet acting as if there is nothing to do on a Friday night. (Because Michael (and/or Georgia) aren't there to entertain her, I guess?)

Leaving that aside, the entire way this happened was just strange. A lot of the questions felt very boilerplate ("Are you currently reading anything?" "Who is your biggest inspiration?") and almost like they were planned in advance (I think at least one actually was from someone AL knows personally, IIRC), yet interspersed with enough "wacky" questions to give the impression of it being this spontaneous Q&A thing.

As for the answers in the screenshots above, I saw people on Twitter getting outraged over the "girly" question on Saturday, but predictably for all the wrong reasons. In particular, I noticed people once again blaming Michael/David shippers for it, but just from the wording alone, my feeling was that whoever sent in this question did not seem to be a shipper at all. "Girly" has a very specific, borderline homophobic connotation to it (akin to someone asking Anna if she "acts dykey" around Georgia), and while I know English is not her first language, I don't think that meaning is something AL would have missed.

So, no, it's certainly not a great or appropriate question by any means. But the bigger issue, at least in my opinion, wasn't so much "Why would someone ask this?", but rather "Why would she post this?" Because Anna is a grown woman who could have very easily just ignored this question altogether. Instead, she chose to draw attention to it, and to react in much the same way as her "vagueblogging" from the other day. It was as if the purpose in sharing it was to show people what she has to "put up with"--either from the fans or from Michael or both.

That's the other piece of this--that she shared this question with seemingly no regard for how it makes Michael look, or whether it would or could be embarrassing to him. It immediately made me think of this tweet from Michael two years ago, where he chose to answer a question in such a way as to deliberately not embarrass David (further explanation can be found here). It's something that seems so small but means so much, and that you'd think would happen effortlessly for someone you love. So the contrast of that to Anna posting this was striking to me, and it was further compounded by her answer to the "favorite bird" question.

Again, it's almost unsurprising at this point. Anna has previously made unflattering comparisons between Michael and Cousin Itt, a Hobbit, and Hagrid--among others--and now we can add a cockatiel to this list. What’s weird is that the question itself had nothing to do with Michael, so there was absolutely no reason to bring him into it...and yet. It felt like name dropping for the sake of name dropping, which just seems like a weird thing to do when she's been dating him for five years now. Did she think we forgot? That we needed a reminder? Whatever the reason, this definitely seemed like such a strange choice, and another instance of passive-aggressively putting him down under the pretense of a compliment.

(A note about the "protective" part, as I noticed that was particularly mentioned in this Ask. I would agree that there are a lot more overt/visible instances of Michael being protective of David--many of which I have talked about on my blog--than of Anna. That does not mean I don't think he is protective of her, however, but that there is a distinction between the two. It is possible to be protective of someone out of a sense of responsibility and obligation, and those are not necessarily bad things. But it's very different to being protective of someone not because you feel like you have to be protective, but because you want to be. Interpret that how you will...)

Finally, I just need to mention that one of the questions AL was asked was about Georgia ("Is Georgia secretly holding you hostage?"), and what I have hardly seen anyone talking about is that Georgia reshared that Insta story a short while later...and added a song called "I'm Trapped"...

I just...was this meant to be shady on Georgia's part? Who, exactly, is "trapped" here? The subtext and potential implications can go in so many directions here that it's hard to know where to start, but...yeah. The optics of Georgia resharing this story and adding that song in the middle of AL's Insta Q&A were and are questionable/cringey/unintentionally hilarious on multiple levels.

So yes, that is my take on the events of Friday night. As I've said before and will again, I know I could be totally off the mark here, so I'd love to hear from my followers as to what you think. Thank you for writing in! x

#angel19924 #hyperfixating-rn-brb #reply post #michael sheen #welsh seduction machine #trying to provide a balanced perspective #but what's the old saying: when someone shows you who they are believe them the first time #at this point i honestly do not understand why she is even still with him #there was also a question about 'Who was your 1st celeb crush?' and she mentioned a Swedish boy band #but then said she 'couldn't say' who her British crush was but that it's 'not who you think'#and i'm not sure what the purpose of that was either #but i will leave it to my followers to make up their own minds #georgia tennant #anna lundberg #relationships #discourse

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heartgold · 7 months

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as much as it's frustrating how only two of the umi episodes were penned by Sayo in the irl layer, I think it's fascinating to compare them with each other because so much becomes clear when you look at the writing choices in each one side by side

the specific ways in which Legend and Turn differ from each other makes me certain that one was among the first message bottles she wrote whereas the other was one of the last, but it's not clear which is which -- it depends on how you interpret her internal journey and process of creating all these tales and fragments. Sayo's writing as a whole is very marked by her personal observations of the sins and struggles of the family and using them as mirrors to actually write about herself, using characters as stand-ins that give voice to her own inner thoughts, but both stories are very different in tone and approach

Legend feels almost methodical with the ways the murders and illusions are carried out, and the way her resentment manifests is more controlled, understated. you need to wring it around a bit more to 'see', but in my understanding: it's interesting how the 3 cousins are all made to suffer incredible grief losing their parents and love interests in quick succession (Battler being the only adult cousin who only lost his parents and not a love interest feels important to get him to remember!), but they live until the end then get invited to the Golden Land and choose to resurrect their lost love. By contrast, Natsuhi is put through the wringer through and through while being given the opportunity to be the star of the episode with her struggles as a woman taking the center of the stage, only to lose a duel (!) to Beatrice and be denied entry in the very last moment. there's a lot of conflicting emotions all over the place in both cases which is of course very characteristic of Sayo but I'm fascinated by how the cousins' entire role in this episode is to lose everything they had, experience earth-shattering grief and be led towards a romanticized afterlife where they can heal that grief, making the choice to resurrect the love that was lost, whereas Natsuhi's role is to mirror and portray Sayo's actual interiority and struggles (many that were caused by Natsuhi herself!) that went unspoken her whole life and then be challenged to a duel and get shot. to shoot Natsuhi is to shoot herself. shooting her actual personhood and interiority and struggles to death. as a metaphor for the entire ceremony of Beatrice's revival being a suicide in order to pass on into the afterlife where compartmentalized parts of herself can simultaneously exist as whole and find happiness with their respective love interests. the final step of rejecting reality, seeking love by truly becoming fictional while the human heart of the actress behind the characters dies buried between the lines of the text unless you 'see' it. god she makes me insane. anyway

Turn by comparison is very brutal. Beatrice steps onto the gameboard and is at her cruelest here, and the deliberate narrative choices are dripping with anger, helplessness and sorrow. everything about the focus given to Rosa in her role as the main accomplice who only had eyes for gold vs the framing of the tragedy as the gift of a halloween party for Maria, the wolves and sheep allegory, the way Shannon and Kanon get repeatedly kicked around for trying to resist their fate and wanting to believe in love despite everything. Kanon's "corpse" being desecrated by being forcefully resurrected twice, not being allowed death. the barely contained sexual conflict and trauma in the themes and imagery all over the episode. the way Sayo personally kills Jessica and George and her personas are killed along with them, an utter rejection of the possibility of being loved in reality as something that can only happen in death and fiction, so they all get to die together and be connected by their souls, all portrayed as the innocent victims of a vicious witch. the unspoken horror of one of the few true closed rooms in the game, with Sayo physically killing herself while facing herself in the mirror after doing all that. no one could dispute that a coffin is a closed room. and with closed rooms in this game often symbolizing being trapped in your own logic even though the door was unlocked all along, it absolutely stands for Sayo giving up all hope. Beatrice won, the gold won, the family's curse won, Sayo's worst feelings regarding herself won. Kinzo won too, even as a dead puppet haunting the narrative, he 'lives' to the end and gets his miracle of meeting Beatrice granted again. just that says a lot. Turn is horror after horror and you can only fully grasp that with the context for her writing choices

Legend feels relatively composed and deliberate in its choices of allegory. it also carries a lot of pain and conflicted feelings (particularly with the way she hatewrote Battler in it) but the text in Turn is basically bleeding all of her self hatred and suicidality and conflict over the idea of being loved. Legend is for the most part a straightforward mystery embellished in illusions with her heart still very baked into the text, and it has a big focus on solvability (Eva as the main accomplice basically points Battler toward the solution... which he rejects) and gambling/risk-taking, with multiple moments where Sayo left things out of her hands and up to chance, making it so that she could've been stopped even by accident. and then Turn is basically an eruption of all the horrible feelings churning in her heart. it says a lot that in Legend, she left the people she loved the most alive until the end, as if hoping until the very end for the miracle that at least one of them would see through her and stop her from murdering them, while Turn kills off the cousins (barring Battler due to being the detective) and then herself before the ceremony even ends, destroying all outcomes beyond utter annihilation. Turn is absolutely about her surrendering and leaning right into the illusion she casts on herself of being an irredeemable monster, so Beatrice absolutely plays into that role here. fitting that it ends with Battler surrendering, too

the sheer tonal contrast between these two message bottles tells a story of the journey of how Sayo's mental state changed as she kept writing and running over her murder-suicide plans over and over again -- it can either show her hope and composure deteriorating as she resigned herself to accepting her dead-end of fate (Legend -> Turn) OR the raw emotion she felt in the beginning of the writing frenzy dissipating as she kept going, any result being a satisfactory outcome but still focusing on planning out a difficult but fair mystery, staking her hopes onto the miracle of having it solved by the person who shared her personal philosophy on mysteries (Turn -> Legend). I don't like relying on Confessions too much as "confirmation" of Sayo-related things because it doesn't sit well with me, but if you go by the way it portrayed the process, then it strongly suggests the latter explanation

wish we could have seen more of the countless tales she personally wrote because you can see so much of her personhood hidden within the text, her thought processes, personal views and authoral voice all providing characterization, but the two we got already tell entire untold stories. it's funny that the two first episodes are usually thought of as the least interesting ones on a first read when they're the ones with the most firsthand insight into the culprit's heart and how she felt about everything. the sorrows and pain but the strength of will and hope too

#umineko #umineko spoilers #◇#suicide cw #literally the character of all time. if u even care

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ewanmitchelll · 4 months

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Imagine Taylor Swift Songs (XV): Enchanted.

Imagine Lord Aemond Targaryen courts you amidst the rumors he’s been linked to Lady Alys Rivers.

Warnings: drama, fluff.

Warnings 2: alternative universe where no civil war happens, notwithstanding the silent rivalry between the Valeryons and the Targaryens.

***

• (I)

There I was again tonight forcing laughter, faking smiles. Same old tired, lonely place, walls of insincerity, shifting eyes and vacancy… Vanished when I saw your face. All I can say is, it was enchanting to meet you…

You are an illegitimate daughter of Lord Daemon Targaryen who was promptly taken by King Viserys to live at the royal court. Because you have the same age of Lord Aemond, one his youngest children, you are raised by their side under the careful gaze of his Queen.

Notwithstanding her enmity to your father, whom you see rarely—especially after his marriage to Lady Laena Velaryon—, she’s grown attached to you, a sentiment you reciprocate.

It could not be otherwise. You are great friends with the Greens and as much as you appreciate the fanciful robes and education, like any other dragon whom you share the blood with, you feel locked up at a cage.

You are there when Helaena reclaims her dragon as well as Aegon and even the Velaryon boys—Jacaerys, Lucerys…—but you and Aemond are the only ones without one to ride. This is perhaps what brings you to him.

“You are very quiet”, Aemond muses one of these days where he and you share a lesson under the same tutor designated by Queen Alicent. “What troubles you, Y/N?”

“I am often quiet, Aemond”, you shrug your shoulders.

“This is not true”, he insists, poking your side until he gets a smile out of your lips.

“It is! You know how introspective I can be.”

“No more than my sister Helaena”, Aemond teases you.

You turn at him, in contemplative state.

“Have you ever wondered what’s the world outside like? What lies beyond these pillars of stones?”

“I have… If I had a dragon to reclaim, this question would have been long answered.”

“I doubt it. We are tied to our families, my dear”, and by that you mean your uncle’s since you resent your father has not given you any short notice.

Seeing it through you, Aemond realizes you two have more in common than he’d judged.

“True, but my path is mine”, he says with conviction.

You smile at him, pleased to find in your cousin a proper companion. Aemond, on his turn, is enchanted to think likewise. A bond has formed.

***

• (II)

Your eyes whispered, "Have we met?". 'Cross the room your silhouette, starts to make its way to me. The playful conversation starts, counter all your quick remarks like passing notes in secrecy…

Aemond is there to encourage you when the situation to reclaim your dragon presents itself. Both of you are in your late teenager days and it has been a while since your favored companion claimed Vhagar, which resulted in a permanent feud with your half-sisters and the Velaryons. Disregarding it such, at their horror, you stood by his side.

And now the one-eyed prince leads you to Dragonstone where a silver dragon awaits, wild and with no rider to claim it.

“There you have it”, you hear him say. “The key to your aimed freedom.”

You turn at him with a glint of mischief in your eyes.

“Oh, Aemond Targaryen. You are the death of me.”

Hands tied behind his back, the composed prince nods his head before chuckling.

“Hardly, my dear. Off you go. No tips. You must do it yourself.”

It’s when your willfulness disappears and Aemond spots fear taking its place. As he takes your side, the silver haired prince seeks to encourage you like you’ve always done to him.

In this quiet twilight where birds are not singing and no other sounds are heard, it feels as if the world holds its breath. You are remembered of the comparisons made between you and your father by malicious courtiers, the look of disdain perceived in Otto Hightower’s gaze due to your station and whom you are related to.

Aemond knows where this reluctance comes from. He watches you, his lingering gaze capturing the lines of concern that form in your eyes when you narrow your gaze at the wild beast that dangerously sets its pace around the abandoned hill where no peasant nor nobleman sets their foot.

His gaze moves to how you chew your bottom lip, how you barely breathe, paralyzed by the insecurity he too was once familiar to. Wind blows against your hair, wildly loose this day. It is as if nature takes hold of your spirit for you clench your jaw.

Aemond smiles to himself.

“Go on, lass! I know you can do it!”

When you turn your head, not minding the mess your hair is, you and the prince exchange a long look, sharing a secretive smile.

A soul recognizes in another. You and him know it, as if a spell has been casted to charm you to him—and, unbeknownst to you, him to you—, that synchrony is not a proper word to describe your bond.

But encouraged by him this is the time to leave your sentiments aside, that now have become evident to you. Ignoring the fear that flashes before the prince’s good eye, you step proudly to the silver dragon with long, pointed tail and shade of dark silver coloring its wings.

The creature is a young adult with yellow flaring eyes that cast a disdain look at you. It takes little time before it reads your intentions. Aemond watches, frozen, as the flying beast throws its head back and spits fire.

“Fuck!”, he curses under his breath, unwilling to admit he could have followed you closely and helped you in mounting the said creature.

“Y/N!”, Aemond yells. “Be careful! Look at its eyes with no fear!”

Without looking back, you respond something he cannot understand. Aemond pales, giving a look at Vhagar, who doesn’t stand too far. The older dragon opens only an eye as if it’s to say “your problem, not mine”, drifting back to sleep leaving Aemond grumbling to himself.

In truth, the elements of riding this young adult dragon are not in your favor. The creature is a product of wildnerness, and only the Gods can tell how on seven hells it appeared there. Thus, away of human care, it would prove difficult to settle easily with anyone who attempted to tame it.

Regardless, you are well versed in draconian studies to be easily frightened off.

“I am my father’s daughter”, you tell yourself.

Twice, the dragon tries to burn you alive. Perceiving you as a threat, this only makes difficult for you to approach.

Aemond, as a watcher, fears for you. He forgets to breathe when seeing you fearlessly facing the silver dragon.

Two steps he gives, decided to rescue you when he is surprised by your confident yells:

“Lykiri, Silverlightning!”

The dragon hesitates at first, however, understanding the command said in Old Valyrian, promptly bows its head.

Aemond smiles widely, proud of you as you climb the dragon you claimed and start to fly.

Indeed, a thought occurs the prince, you are every inch Lord Daemon’s daughter.

***

• (III)

This night is sparkling, don't you let it go. I'm wonderstruck, blushing all the way home. I'll spend forever wondering if you knew. I was enchanted to meet you…

You and Aemond are flying high this night with nothing but the moon and stars as witnesses. In spite of the great difference between their dragons, harmony is felt, synchronized in perfect balance.

“How on earth do you manage to fly dressed on your gown? This is impossible!”, you hear Aemond muse loud.

He smiles at the sight of you throwing your head back and laughing. Nothing warms his heart more than being the cause of the delight he sees sparkling in your eyes.

“A lady always has her tricks and shares them with no one”, you answer him over your shoulder, winking at him.

Under the moon light, your dragon and Aemond’s pair up like two skilled dancers. There, up in the air, liberty is tasted at its highest. Titles are casted aside, privileges forgotten, obligations neglected…

You and him can be yourselves. Simply dragon riders.

Eventually, though, you two must land. Once you do, Aemond insists in helping you going down. As he does, his hands take a little while around your waist.

It’s when you notice how tall he is in comparison to you.

“You look pretty, lady”, he whispers. “I like when your hair is down like this.”

Wind is still blowing, albeit weakly, against your curls, and you are struggling to keep them down. You smile at his words.

“Oh, lord. I fear you are flattering me…”

“This is not a trait I possess, I’m afraid”, he smiles in his own way and you like the view. “You’ve grown to be a very handsome woman, Y/N. Your wit has sharpened as well, and you possess virtues I admire.”

Aemond can tell how his words affect you. The way your eyes go slight wide, the dimples forming in your cheeks, how slowly your lips twist in a smile that brightens your face. His heart races. But something stops him of moving further.

Yet, whatever occupies his thoughts is distracted of the pink that paints your cheeks and how shyly you seek out of his hand.

“You are an expertise in making any lady speechless. I wish I was poet so I could give voice to how I feel about you”, you avoid his gaze, leaving your bluntness with your dragon. “However, I cannot let you go back inside without assuring you that I have no one to hold dearer in my most deep affections than you, my lord.”

You raise your eyes and meet his. Aemond is bewildered by your words, captivated by the depth of your sentiments that these could at least partially transmit even though he sees it in your eyes.

Drowned in them, the prince is dragged to meet your soul. It feels like home. Gravity pulls him to you. He lifts your chin, holding it still and there is a mutual expectation concerning the next steps.

His lips are short distanced of yours, and you can smell his sweet breath. Your eyes linger to his red-ish mouth as his stare into yours. His long, paled and callous hand strokes your cheek and you are transmitted, in turn, the darkness within that paves bad choices and poorly closed wounds.

Nevertheless you remain.

“How sacred is the bond that links us”, he whispers before finally holding your face dear and kisses you fiercely, but slowly.

You gasp in delight at the clash of your lips against his, at the dragon smell of his body that mixed with the scent of yours, at how close, but not seemingly enough, one is with the other.

Every barrier is knocked down as his tongue snakes in your mouth, pairing perfectly with yours, dominating in a sweet, vicious kiss. You fear to lose your breath, thus holding onto him for balance.

As the kiss deepens, your hands grow confident. Soon, your hands move up to his hair, feeling his locks slipping through your fingers as you hold them tight, earning him a sigh.

The danger posed by this unexpected and secret meeting is the fire that might come out of a spark. Aemond feels it in you, thus parting it before he lets it lose within.

When you meet his gaze, there is no need to speak. Even so you need reassurances.

“Will I see you again?”

Aemond takes your hand and there presses a kiss. Only then he answers, when looking into your eyes:

“Yes, my dear Y/Nickname. How can it be otherwise?”

You smile, completely charmed, completely enchanted to be with him.

***

• (IV)

The lingering question kept me up. 2 AM, who do you love? I wonder 'til I'm wide awake and now I'm pacing back and forth. Wishing you were at my door. I'd open up and you would say, "Hey"…

It so appears that Daemon Targaryen has the bad habit of carrying bad omens wherever he goes. A judgement of his enemies that you cannot not think at times.

He barely arrives and all the distrust between him and his brother’s second wife’s family threatens to disrupt in something worse.

Leaving politics aside, though, he does not look very pleased at the thought of you being courted by Lord Aemond.

“I am nothing but the daughter of a whore”, you snap at him when he comes to you and rather leaves clear his opinions on the courtship—and only Gods know by what means he was informed of your liaison with the prince your cousin since neither had made it official. “Is it not what you have always been told? Is it not why I was left under the king’s piety?”

Your father stares at you in complete disbelief. Now residing at Dragonstone, he’s taken as wife Princess Rhaenyra, who’s been acknowledged only recently as the heiress to the Iron Throne.

“These people have been poisoning your ears. I’ve always told my brother about the danger of having you raised here. Do not speak ill of your mother, she was a good woman.”

“This is untrue. The Queen is kind to me and her children are like my family. At least they are far more like brothers and sisters than the ones I have by full blood.”

Daemon strokes his cheek, reclined against the chair he occupies. You two are at his privy bedchambers and though he appears to be relaxed, you know there’s a tempest forming behind his lilac eyes.

“I admit I should have brought you to be raised with Rhaela and Baela, but my brother, the king, took an especial interest in raising you.”

“And I am not being ungrateful about that”, you scoff. “I love my uncle dearly, but you have not been present when I needed most. You cannot tell me who I may or may not get myself involved with…”

“Oh yes, I may”, he interrupts you, to your consternation. “Especially when my good nephew has been spotted at Harrenhal at the company of a woman named Alys Rivers. It appears that he’s taken a special liking to bastards.”

You blush furiously at this amount of informations, but more so when he highlighted your status.

“If I brought you shame, father, you can say so. But do not offend…”

“Since when speaking truths mean offense?”, Daemon loses his patience at last. “All I wanted was to provide you security, girl! But the Hightowers have turned you in a soft young woman who takes as token the poisonous words of a libertine!”

“And do you think you have the morals to exempt yourself of it?” Part of you refuses to believe in him. “Separating myself from you and never writing me a letter to know how I was fairing… Certainly after the incident where Aemond lost an eye contributed to your getting away. But no matter. The King has been a better father than you ever were!”

You have no idea how high your voice was and how hurt you have become through the years. As you storm off, you recollect how, at the day of Lady Laena Velaryon’s burial, you were looked down by the said lady’s mother. You’ve always felt despised for being a natural product of your father with an old flame.

As you rush to the outdoors, you miss Aemond’s going back from wherever he’d been through. He is following Aegon when he spots a shadow of a storm crossing the corridors.

“I wonder what has left Y/N so upset”, the prince thinks out loud.

Aegon chuckles dryly.

“Oh, haven’t you heard? Our dear uncle has come to bring some more scandals. Like always, set to leave a path of troubles.”

“And what he has done now?”, Aemond inquires in between annoyance and interest.

Aegon gives his younger brother a mischievous grin.

“He took as third wife our sister, Rhaenyra.”

Aemond watches as you land with Silverlightning. The bond you two formed has strengthened with the time. Your hair, always lose, is a mess by the wind, but today it looks like a veil under which you hide.

You also notice that you dress an old green gown of his mother, which he thinks that matches you fine, reinforcing your delicate features at the same time that leaves to notice the beauty of your curves.

Clearing his throat to dissipate these thoughts, the prince moves to where you stand. Once wind stops howling, he says:

“I’m sorry.”

“What do you feel sorry about?”

“Your father’s latest scandal has been the talk of court.”

You snarl at him.

“Oh, that.”

It occurs Aemond that something else upsets you, which prevents you to look back at him. He lowers his gaze, ashamed for a moment. Silence hangs awkwardly between the two of you until the prince dares to break it.

“You have not been yourself lately and I was not there to watch over you”, he apologizes, trying to short the distance that has been growing between you.

You cast the prince a look and he sees pain in it, which leaves him in tormented.

“My lady, your silence is like a sharp dagger”, he takes your hand and gives it a squeeze.

Part of you wishes to get him answers. Another one refuses it. Where, however, do you stay? You look at this man, your childhood companion who grew to be the only one you love. Once upon a time these nights flying in your dragons, where you were enchanted in sharing this great intimacy with someone like him.

Now you question yourself whether this had been an illusion you fed.

As you open your mouth to finally inquire about the rumors that have been snaking into your mind and forming a nest of paranoia, you are interrupted by the presence of the Queen.

“My children”, she greets you warmly and you smile instantly. Alicent has occupied the left vacancy post of your mother, something which you are thankful for. “We are receiving guests this evening. The king, your father, wishes you to partake the feast. Better get yourselves dressed.”

Aemond pulls a face, but this is the only sign of displeasure he shows, not being a fan of such ceremonies. But before he protests to have a chance to speak with you, the Queen steals you away.

“I understand the presence of your father here might be delicate to you”, she says as you two step away. “Believe me, dear Y/N, it is delicate to me as well. It was a never a secret that I dislike my brother-in-law.”

Somehow the crude honesty in her words makes you chuckle.

“And yet you have welcomed here, my lady, being the mother I was deprived of.”

The Queen smiles fondly at you, stroking your hand gently as you two walk arm-in-arm.

“The children are not blamed for their father’s sins. And you are not sinful by all means, Y/N. I mean to tell you this because I am playing a good effort in receiving him and your siblings here too. Rhaenyra and I, as you know, are good friends. She has yet to meet you properly, but the princess has confided me the wishes of having you living with her and your father at Dragonstone.”

You stop by the corridors at what you heard. In truth, you hold nothing against Princess Rhaenyra as you hardly had some concept against her predecessor, disregarding some prejudices concerning your illegitimacy. However, this is all new.

“I’ve always assumed I was unwanted somehow”, you confide the queen in a whisper.

The Queen turns at you gently and holds your face with a maternal look. She sees your unspoken wounds and makes sure to amend them. Or try to.

“My darling, you are not unwanted. Do not think yourself as such. You are a dragon, the king ensured to legitimate you for this purpose. You are a great dragon rider. I have heard Aemond telling many good things of you to Aegon”, she smiles widely when spotting a blush creeping on your cheeks.

“Mother…”

“You are loved here. And whatever decision you make…”

“I am staying with you”, you tell her. “I need no other family.”

The Queen beams at you. She places a kiss over your forehead before saying:

“I appreciate my darling. But even so I must insist in that you should tell this decision to your father.”

You find strange that the Queen is playing the peacemaker with her enemy, but this is part of the queenship, so you should not be entirely surprised. Later that day, you two speak no more of it, and you are momentarily distracted of your current issues.

***

• (V)

This is me praying that. This was the very first page not where the story line ends. My thoughts will echo your name, until I see you again. These are the words I held back, as I was leaving too soon. I was enchanted to meet you. Please don't be in love with someone else. Please don't have somebody waiting on you…

You are taking a moment by yourself when your father approaches.

“We didn’t start well”, says he, watching as you stand and look at him, surprised to find him there. “I always thought my brother, the king, had stolen you from me. He said I was unfit to look after you, my child. This does not excuse my poor choices, but somehow I wanted the best for you.”

You tilt your head, weighing the words he said. Considering what you know regarding his behavior, you find no lies. Nonetheless, you’ve been in a distrustful mood, considering the whole Aemond’s possibly affair with a lady named Alys Rivers.

“I was raised here. The king and the queen were very good to me”, you find sensible to omit Otto Hightower’s despise.

Daemon studies you. Though calmer you may be, he can still see you like a mirror. The looks, the snarks, the self defense… Every inch like him.

“We can still amend it. The princess would like to spend more time with you. Your sisters likewise.”

You scoff.

“Baela and Rhaena don’t speak to me since I stood for Aemond many years ago.”

“Not the wisest move, but I am hardly a model for anything of the sort.” He snorts. “There is still time to consider… Y/N.”

Daemon watches as you merely nod your head, moving to Silverlightening. He side smirks as you ride graciously, dressed in silk. At times he’s remembered of the woman he first loved, your mother. These are the times he wishes to go back in past and be a more decent man.

But this Targaryen rogue has few—if any—regrets to collect. Even so, as you fly, he knows he will have you back. All he needs is the precious thing he lost: time.

Aemond finds you this evening, anxious to resolve all that has to be resolved. He couldn’t find you all day, frustrated for having you removed out of his sight—but never out of his mind.

“Y/N!”, he cries your name out the moment you land with Silverlightening.

You freeze as your Achilles heal comes at you. Aemond has grown to a fine, good looking man who, despite his bad reputation, has been nothing but kind to you, protective and more.

“I fear that I’m losing you”, he doesn’t wait to formalities. “I understand it has reached you the rumors about me and a woman named Alys Rivers.”

Aemond can tell there is much to be said, but none of it reaches your tongue. Nonetheless, he must clear once for all before it’s too late.

“She was once my mistress, I will not deny that”, says he, pained as you flinch quietly. “But this is no more. I am yours, and yours alone. I was never besotted with a woman like her…Her name hardly ever occupied my thoughts.”

You will not deny yourself that for a while you wished he never loved anyone else, that you secretly prayed that no one would be waiting for him as you two danced with your dragons in the night.

But now you are confused.

“What are you telling me, Aemond?”

“I fucking love you, Y/N Targaryen!”

That being said, he takes your face with his long hands and kisses your lips intently so, fearful of letting you slip through his fingertips.

“Oh Aemond”, you sigh in content, a smile set on your face dispersing every fear, every insecurity.

Red is his face. Aemond is usually careful, mindful of his sentiments, which are normally on check. Hardly the one prompted to impulsiveness, to be ruled by his passions—he is the epithet of lucidity amidst his siblings.

Where reason doesn’t see, though, a deep ocean of feelings is felt. And you gleefully dive in as you pull him back to kiss his lips.

“I was always enchanted to be with you”, he whispers, his lips inch away from yours, forehead resting against yours, eyes closed. “I was a fool for never making my feelings clear.”

“Better late than ever”, you smile at him in great contentment. “All is well that ends well with you.”

As he locks fingers with you, there lies the certainty of never letting you go.

“Be my wife”, Aemond murmurs and you are amused by his demanding tone.

“You are not asking”, you giggle.

“No.”

“Of course not. If you vow to me that you are not going back with this woman.”

It’s Aemond who laughs now.

“Clearly not, Y/N. If I shall take the love of my existence as consort, then I best offer you what’s the best of me…”

You throw your hands around his neck.

“Then you better take me away and make me your wife, Aemond Targaryen.”

***

• Epilogue. (Perpetual peace)

With Rhaenyra crowned Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, relations between the Targaryens have altered significantly.

One of which concerns how you and your father managed to overcome obstacles in your relationship thanks to the mediation of the new Queen, who also consented in having you married to Lord Aemond.

This day, thus, is one of the many celebrations the Queen and her consort, your father, are giving on your behalf. There are many tournaments and a great feast is held on your wedding day.

It is curious how by amending his relationship with you, by extent you make peace with your half-sisters and even towards the Velaryon boys. Despite preferring Helaena’s company, soon you and Baela find that riding a dragon is something both of you enjoy—amidst other common tastes.

As for Aemond, he admits that uncle Daemon is one whom he often looks up. Thanks to you, this is a bond that will get stronger with time.

“You better not break my daughter’s heart”, the rogue prince says in a very serious tone. “I have many flaws, but do not underestimate my iron will in protecting my family.”

And then he takes his son by marriage in a tender embrace. You could not have your cheeks any redder after it.

“Dear Gods”, you mumble, all the whilst you watch them exchange amenities.

As you take your seat at the high table and your husband follows you, for the bedding ceremony is about to be announced in that boisterous manner, you both enjoy the last reminiscent of brief silence.

“My lady wife”, Aemond takes your hand to his lips and there presses a kiss. “I don’t think I ever told you how I was enchanted to meet you the day my late father brought you to us.”

Your face is bright red, much to his delight. The one eyed prince side smirks at you, still kissing your delicate fingertips. You tilt your head to the side, eyeing him devotedly.

“My lord husband”, you chew the new word and it gives you butterflies on your stomach. “So was I. The moment I saw you, I knew you were mine.”

“Indeed”, he whispers. “I shall be eternally yours if you have me.”

You lean towards him, lips barely touching his.

“As am I.”

But no word is spoken as the already drunk prince consort announces this is it. It’s time for husband and wife to be… well, husband and wife.

The bedding ritual thus begins.

#ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen #Aemond one-eyed #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x female reader #lord Aemond #prince Aemond #house of the dragon #house targaryen #taylor swift #enchanted #speak now (taylor’s version)#daemon Targaryen

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sunandsstars · 1 year

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Hi. I just wanted to say that your Yawnetu fic has me in a chokehold. I mean Fuck you Jake. And I know that the reader's love interest are most likely going to be like Tonowari and Ronal but you know I imagined a whole oc character and just wanted to share.

A male love interest who is probably Tonowari's younger brother. And besides being a warrior, he is absolutely opposite of Jake. He's funny, popular, loved, flirty and very charming. Maybe he's a playboy and seeing Reader and her children absolutely captures him.

He follows the reader like a puppy and absolutely adores his stepsons. Always holding them and playing with them and unlike Jake 'Call me Sir' Sully. He's an absolute affectionate Dad.

And I can just imagine that sarcastic smirk on his face as he holds the reader when Jake and Neytiri come to seek Uturu. He's like 'So you were the one that Eywa thought was good for my love. Huh. I guess even Eywa makes blunders sometimes no?'

And in return the boys are all sassy and badass like their dad too.

oh my god. i actually love this so much 🤩

Just the sweet younger brother of the clans olo’eyktan, a fine warrior, flirty individual and cocky na’vi. Beloved by everyone in Awa’atlu, he’s great with kids and likes helping the elderly, definitely the cool uncle.

when the reader ends up in in their reef he’s just like 🤔 who’s this, why has this strange lady come to seek sanctuary. but i feel like Tonowari would make him show reader where she would be staying (he saw the way his brother was eyeing her), showing her and her twins their new home. maybe fetching her the comforts she will need for her stay like food or extra blankets (he’d definitely do so willingly though, she’s a pretty thing after all)

after properly seeing her and the twins, maybe hanging out with her for a few days after her arrival, he would be so hooked! just look at these chubby little babies 🥹 with their equally sweet and doting mother 🥹 he would volunteer to look after them while she recovers from any labours and the babies in turn would take to him! doing that little thing where they reach up with grabby hands omg

tonowari and ronal are scheming 100%, they see how he’s infatuated with the small family. he’s mateless, they gotta set him up with someone eventually 🙄☝🏼

when reader and him DO bond they become one happy family. He would be such a fun dad, showing the boys the waters as soon as they can, helping them with sign language, going hunting with them etc etc. Would also let them have sleepovers with Ao’nung and Tsireya, they’re just super close bestie cousins (also with readers permission, she’s the boss). he would also be a very doting husband, helping reader adjust to life with the metkayina, treating her with the utmost respect and love she deserves. he would give her as many children as she wanted 😏 (they end up having another 2 i bet…maybe 1 on the way)

when the sully’s arrive in awa’atlu he can tell reader is distraught and upset, her home in the forest is in danger again, and jake and neytiri have sought refuge in the place she was able to finally call home and feel safe in with her family, away from them. He’s extremely hostile towards them both, hissing, ears pinned back, standing taller while broadening his shoulders, showing them who’s the biggest bird (or na’vi) and he definitely is a huge man, i mean look at tonowari and the other metkayina men, they’re fucking massive 😏😏😳

and when he sees how jake treats his sons, he gets even angrier if that’s even possible, no one should treat their sons like they’re disposable soldiers. “yes sir” “sorry sir” what is this?? he would never make his sons do that, they happily call him sempul or sempu. he sees the way jake doesn’t bother standing up for Lo’ak too, it’s disgusting, your son feels like an outcast, as a father you should reassure him that he’s not, just because he’s different doesn’t make him any less na’vi. atleast that’s what he tells his twins, they’re darker in comparison, skinny tails and arms but they’re his sons, your sons, he won’t make them feel alienated in their own home.

he would make jake’s training hell, using his old cocky charm on him and purposefully giving him the toughest challenges to master (that tsurak was definitely one of them). all while doing that smug smirk, tonowari is rolling his eyes constantly.

all in all he’s an amazing father and mate and would do anythinggg to protect reader and their children 🫶🏼 i would be happy to make a spin-off when yawnetu is finished

#yawnetu q&a #ideas #x reader #avatar the way of water #avatar x reader #atwow x reader #tonowari and ronal #OC #jake sully #neytiri #asks #atwow

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skyeblue8 · 7 months

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Viv shot herself in the foot by making Ozzie and Beezlebub wussies as it makes it odd Charlie didn't just ask them for help. Like bruh, Charlie was supposed to be an exception for demons being evil and she doesn't even feel special anymore.

Also the fans are illiterate. My little cousin has better reading comprehension than half of these people because apparently pointing out Lust is bad and the Sin can represent many types of SA, STDs, cheating and necrophilia is defending rape. The reason people are upset is because it feels like Viv is chickening out and can't handle what vile things they'd endorse so she cripples them by making them nice guys. The fans will eat it up, but Viv crippled her story all to keep these two likeable(Why are the embodiments of evil likeable?).

Like Valentino, a Sinner pimp who looks like he hasn't left the seventies is more evil than...an ancient being that's existed for eons.

Let's be honest, the only reason Ozzie is a wussy is because Viv is too attached to portray him as an awful person. She could've just had Ozzie care about Fizz and be an vile person but anytime her yaoi ship gets popular, like with Stolitz, she'll cave to her inner fangirl and write them being Uwu wholesome to the point it makes them look like pussies.

Hit the nail on the damn head right here! It's actually embarrassing how so many of the classism, racism, freedom for Sinner's issues, etc. could very easily be fixed within Helluva itself with just a literal simple conversation. Striker's issues are null and void considering how well imps are treated in comparison to what is being stated, the Sinners can just straight up leave the Pride Ring for the other Rings (I mean, why else are they there for?). Seriously, her lack of care in Helluva's world-building makes me fear for Hazbin Hotel. The only way I can enjoy it and treat Charlie's goal as valid is if I disassociate it from this logically broken show.

#helluva boss critical #ask #vivziepop critical #helluva boss criticism #hazbin hotel critical #helluva boss critique #helluva critical #hazbin hotel critique #vivziepop criticism #spindlehorse critical #spindlehorse criticism

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devondespresso · 3 months

Text

Mr. Crayola Henderson

T | 1791 words | ao3 link | cw: minor ableism from a side character, also they swear, I always forget f-bombs bother some people sorry guys | STWG Prompt: Telling a story to get out of trouble

EDIT: I NEARLY FORGOT thank you @pearynice my beloved for the brainstorming GENIUS and @hairstevington for the sensitivity read! You guys are awesome!! Also thank you @saradika-graphics for making free dividers!!

((little bit of context for extra clarity: this universe is vaguely canon divergent, post season 2. Steve is hoh (hard of hearing) and already adopted by the Hendersons, and in this one they're in the middle of a sort of family reunion/gathering))

Steve went to duck inside the house, holding the door open for Aunt Tracy on her way back out into the backyard where the majority of the gathering was taking place. She smiled and said something, probably just a thank you that he would’ve heard if the batteries in his hearing aids hadn’t died. He smiled back at her and gestured to his ear and she nodded again with a smile that did its best to not be patronizing.

She left and Steve went inside, sighing a little and tried to not hold it against her, the lack of filter seemed to run in the family, but it was moments like that that made him grateful his mom was the most laid-back of the Henderson women.

Steve went over to the media room and dug through the little bin of batteries under the phone, pulling out an opened pack that had just enough left. He took both aids off, changed the batteries, and put them back on to make sure they worked.

He heard a strong thud from his bedroom, followed by muttering.

Steve put the dead batteries down on top of the table and stared at his bedroom door. The muttering escalated to hushed bickering.

Steve walked closer to the door, hearing the bickering more clearly, then opened the door.

Dustin and their cousin Aiden both jumped and turned to look at the door, Dustin relaxing when he saw it was him. Steve paused for a second, looking at both of them crouched on the ground, bright pink paint on their hand and clothes and the carpet around them with no bottle in sight.

Steve leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow at Dustin.

“We were just… snooping through your shit. ” Dustin said.

Steve glanced back down at the paint everywhere, and gave him a look.

Dustin just smiled like a little angel, which worked on mom and maybe Steve-from-two-years-ago, but not now.

“Oh no, you found my secret stash of… bubblegum pink paint.” he deadpanned.

“The cheap kiddy bubblegum pink paint.” Dustin corrected, looking down at the carpet. “It’ll wash out.”

“Of course.” He looked over to Aiden, who had relaxed significantly as he realized Steve wasn’t going to blow up on them. “And… why is there totally washable pink paint in my room specifically? Weren’t you guys sticking to dicking around outside to avoid doing stuff like this?”

Aiden opened his mouth to give a better excuse, but Dustin started tapping his shoulder excessively to get his attention.

“He’d help us.”

Steve raised his eyebrows, not arguing because odds were good he’d end up doing something, but he still played it up like he wasn’t already planning to.

Aiden was turned mostly towards Dustin and muttered something he couldn’t catch, throwing a glance at Steve.

“Trust me, this is like a walk in the park compared to–” Dustin said.

“Hardly a fair comparison, man.” Steve interrupted.

“–compared to the other shit he’s helped me with.”

Aiden thought about it, then glanced towards Steve. “And he's not going to jump ship afterwards and get us in trouble?”

“Of course not, right Steve?”

Steve looked at the two of them and ran a hand over his face.

“You know step one of not getting in trouble for stupid shit is not starting stupid shit, right?”

Aiden groaned but Dustin agreed immediately, “Yes, 100% understood.”

Dustin elbowed Aiden, and he nodded despite his clear annoyance.

Dustin smiled and looked at Steve.

He rubbed his temple one last time before throwing his hand down.

“Okay. Step two then.”

Dustin jumped up and shot him a thanks before running around him towards the kitchen. Steve watched him go then turned back to Aiden who looked just as confused.

“What’s he doing?”

“I don't know.” Aiden lied, looking at him curiously, “What's step two?”

“Find me and let me finish the stupid shit.”

“Huh.”

Dustin came running back with a slice of deli-meat in one hand.

“Dustin, this isn’t looking much better than last time.”

Dustin paused his mad dash for just a second to look at him.

“It’s significantly better, I swear.” he said, then ran to sit back down, dropping the slice of meat on the floor in front of him, and waited.

After a few seconds of nothing, a fuzzy little white face poked out from under his bed. Cautiously, a opossum with pink paint splashed on its back came waddling out. It sniffed at the food given to him, nibbled at it, then opened its mouth as wide as it could to awkwardly chomp at its new snack.

It was a wild animal, Dustin brought in a wild animal inside, during a family gathering with some of the most worry-wart mothers he’s ever met–

But god, the tiny opossum was really fucking cute.

Dustin beamed at the little guy like a proud mom, then up at Steve. Steve shook his head in disbelief and joined them carefully around the opossum. He picked up the deli meat and placing it on his hand to get the little guy used to it.

“You’re crazy, Henderson, you’re fucking crazy.” He grumbled, playing up annoyance to avoid losing his better judgment.

Dustin said something probably cheeky as hell, but he didn’t catch it.

“One more time.” he said, looking away from the opossum for just a second.

“And what does that make you, Henderson?” Dustin smiled, definitely cheeky.

“Reluctantly, also fucking crazy.” he sighed, shaking his head before moving the deli meat further up his hand to lead little Mr. Opossum onto it.

He lifted Opossum gently, letting it have the rest of the deli meat so he could use two hands to hold it steady. He stood up slowly, and started walking towards the bathroom.

Dustin and Aiden went around him to get the door, lights, and sink ready– apparently, to continue where they left off. There were pink handprints around the edge of the sink and a bottle of dish soap sat next to the hand soap.

“Wow, I wonder what happened here.” Steve deadpanned. He looked over at the both of them, not a hint of guilt in their eyes. “And this is why there aren’t two Dustin Hendersons.” he bitched with no real anger, and set Mr. Opossum down gently in the sink.

“You mean this is why there aren’t two Aiden Haults.” Aiden said, leaning over the sink.

“Nope, Dustin gets the credit for this one.”

Steve closed the drain to make a pool of water and Opossum gravitated to it immediately, taking a drink before waddling into the pool and almost rolling in the water to get his fur wet.

Steve tried and failed to bite back a smile.

“His name is Sir Crayolan.” Dustin said.

Steve had no choice but to bark out a laugh.

“Sir what?”

“Sir Crayolan.”

“Oh god, I heard you correctly.”

“It’s a great name!”

“You know Sir Crayolan isn't staying, right?”

“Yeah, we were gonna let him go after we washed him, we just–”

Aiden muttered something and tugged on his sleeve, pointing out the bathroom doorway towards the back door.

Just out of the window, Aunt Tracy was caught in conversation with someone, looking like she was laughing, but clearly stopped just before she was going to come inside. Steve quickly rinsed some of the minimal paint on his fingers, careful not to scare Mr. Crayola or whatever.

“Does she know you’re in here?”

“No, we hid in your room–”

“Good, you guys wash him, carefully and quietly, I’ve got the rest.” He whispered, wiping his hands off on a towel.

“You’re the best, Steve.” Dustin said, giving him a quick side hug to avoid getting paint on him.

“Oh really? I’m gonna need that in writing.” He smiled and Dustin stuck out his tongue. Steve returned the gesture and slipped out of the bathroom, straight across the hall and into his bedroom.

He turned off the lights immediately to hide the pink mess on his floor and waited to hear the front door.

He heard Aunt Tracy’s laughing rather than the actual door open, heard her wave off whoever it was she was talking to through the door. He took one hearing aid off before he walked out of his room, closing the door behind him. He made his way back to the abandoned dead batteries and put his aid back on, messing with it a little longer than strictly necessary.

“Oh, Steve, there you are. Everything okay?” she said, joining him by the tv room.

“Yeah, just had to find batteries. What’s up?”

“Oh yes, well– now, I know I could be overreacting, but I haven’t seen Aiden anywhere for– oh, for god knows how long–”

“He was with Dustin earlier–”

“I know, I know, but they were near those woods weren’t they? And you know there were those missing kids stories–”

“Trust me, I know.” he said, dropping the dead batteries into their battery jar. “I can help you search for them if you want, but I don’t think Dustin’s ever gotten lost. He carries around a compass like it's his wallet. Worst case scenario? They’re messing around in the woods somewhere a little too far away and they’ll come running back once they realize we started eating hotdogs without them.”

“God, you know Claudia said the same thing, I just worry…”

“Ron just lit the grill, right? Let’s give them twenty minutes,” he checked his watch, “Until five… five fifteen-ish. If nobody sees them, I’ll help you look.”

“Twenty minutes, alright, I’ll tell Claudia.” She said, and circled back to the door.

“I’ll join you guys in a second, I’m grabbing a coke.” he called, jutting a thumb back towards the kitchen.

She called something back with a wave and Steve just waved back until she disappeared out the door. He walked over to the kitchen and grabbed a cold can for himself and a diet pepsi for mom, then circled back to the bathroom.

He checked over his shoulder once real quick before tapping on the door and opening his coke.

Aiden answered the door, cracking it open just enough to stand in the doorway.

“You got all that, yeah?”

“Twenty minutes, we’ve been exploring in the woods.”

“Yup. Release your critter out the front door and circle around. I am not joining a search party for you guys today.”

Aiden nodded and gave him an overserious salute. Steve threw a more casual one back.

“Tell Mr. Crayola I said ‘bye’.” he said, then turned around to leave as Dustin came to the opossum’s defense. He hid his smile by taking a sip of his coke, and went back out the door.

(obligatory disclaimer uhhh dont pick up wild opossums please ok thanks guys love ya)

#stranger things #steve harrington #dustin henderson #steve and dustin #hoh steve harrington #hoh!steve #hoh!steve harrington #steve henderson au #been a while since ive used that tag straight up hfdklashfhdl #ive kinda recently realized that my steve henderson au's like. origin-story part? was spanning a lot longer than i thought #and odds are i wont be able to exhaust every possible shenanigan these brothers could get in to #so starts the not-really-the-same-universe-but-like-also-kinda-close steve henderson au hfsdjklafhdkl #stwgdailyprompt

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autisticrosewilson · 22 days

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You have any Wilson family headcanons to spare? Especially on Rose & Grant?

DO I EVER!!! Gosh where do I even start

I mentioned to a friend of mine the other day that I think Slade was a leash kid, and I stand by that whole heartedly. He wanted to raise Grant as a leash kid too, simply because he thought you were supposed to, but Adeline threatened his life so it never happened. This was the first of many times he was confronted with the concept that maybe his home life wasn't great.

He would not even begin reflecting on this until almost a decade later. He still doesn't really consider himself a victim and honestly most of his shitty parenting comes from him just having no clue what he's doing. He's aware that he's bad at it, but instead of trying to improve he just tries to avoid his kids in hopes that they'll be better off without him.

Also he grew up in 1950's-60's Appalachia, I think he's more superstitious than he lets on. I imagine he grew up hearing about family curses and old wives tales, and while on some level he recognizes that Fran likely just used those stories to cope with the situation there's also a part of him that believes it for the same reasons she did. He's not a victim, he can't be, so it must not have been abuse. Which eventually turned into him just kind of accepting that he was always going to be a bad father, that there was never a chance for him to have a family and any attempt he makes will just end up worse than the last.

It makes it easier to maintain his self imposed isolation that way.

Adeline is a lot more interesting than people give her credit for. I like to think she was born and raised in a big city like New York or maybe Gotham if I wanted to be funny. She was definitely a wild child, and that was something that didn't change during her first marriage.

I truly do believe that Count whats-his-face (I don't care enough to look him up) tried exactly once to hit her and he ended up with three bullet wounds that all knicked arteries. It was his only warning and he was smart enough to know that.

Addie is loyal to the end, she's the kind of person that steadfastly refuses to let go of people she cares about. In basically ever version of her story she tries, she tries so hard to make things work. I once compared her to the Greek myth of Madea and I think about the comparison often.

I also think that Adeline was always her father's daughter, whether she liked it or not. I don't remember if it was canon that she was raised primarily by her dad but I only remember her dad being mentioned so I think she grew up in a single parent household and was mostly left to her own devices as a kid. She probably grew up really close with her cousin, most people probably thought they were sisters.

Mayflower fucking HATES Slade, she was advocating for the divorce before they were even married. I know in my heart she was Slade's biggest hater. Her and Slade talked mad shit about each other but they were also gossip buddies for the longest and it was the only thing that stopped her from beating his ass all the time.

SladeAddie is so toxic Bi4Bi coded. Really funny to me that Addie was probably older than Slade, do you know the kind of rizz you have to possess to bag a milf that could kill you in 20 different ways before you could blink? One who's already been divorced? What charm was this freshly 18 year old drop out exuding to be pulling like this?

When do you think he told her that he lied to the recruiter about his age and he wasn't actually 23 or whatever? Did he ever tell her? Did she figure it out herself? It was literally never addressed but I think about it all the time.

Slade is definitely still mildly in love with her and falls a little all over again every time she deals him grievous bodily harm. I don't know his thing for people who hate him is probably a self conscious way to punish himself for sucking all the time.

Billy and Alfred being friends is a headcanon that I literally never stop thinking about. Why wouldn't they be old friends or whatever? They have tea the 4th Tuesday of every other month. They complain about their respective morons and brag about the kids they have to take care of because their morons won't.

Billy is definitely a British rock fan and he fucking HATES country music. Slade starts playing it in the car and Billy threatens to crash the whole car just to make a point.

He's like maybe 5 years older than Slade if I'm being generous about it, he just looks older next to Slade because he's not hopped up on super serum.

He's the one Rose gives her father's day gifts to <3

SladeBilly is canon to me, no way Slade is capable of spending that much time with someone without sleeping with them at least once. It might be the healthiest relationship he's ever had with anyone and Billy barely tolerates him.

Lilian Worth my beloved,,,,,,they gave her such a white ass name. I choose to believe that she changed it later on for anonymity. Chea Nath is a name she hasn't used in a while, but it's still one she holds dear.

She seems like someone who was really into ballet, and probably someone who was really good at it too.

She's one of those characters that we don't really have any information on, which leaves a lot of wiggle room backstory wise. I probably write too much about characters with poor backgrounds (surprise your bitch grew up impoverished) so I guess I'll let Lili have this one.

Diplomats daughter, her and her mom were really close growing up, and she seems like she grew up with sisters. She's got that middle sister energy to her, growing up everyday was a fight and let's just say she didn't lose often.

If Adeline is Medea, Lili is definitely Circe. Versatile, powerful, a man hater, and she'll do anything to protect her girls.

Honors student, her grades never dropped below an A- and she has degrees in everything from fine art to communications. Rose went to college purely because her mom made it clear that not going was not an option.

Grant is one of my favorite characters. Ever. He's definitely an old school country enjoyer, much to Billy's chagrin and Slades secret delight.

He was the boy who climbed up the tallest trees to prove he could and then came home with a thousand little scrapes on him.

He has a bee allergy.

He's the least enhanced of his siblings but he still has a meta gene, I think the reason the H.I.V.E. serum didn't activate it like it should have is because his power was the mental kind and not the physical kind so his body couldn't hold up against it even while his psychic powers were getting stronger.

Painted his nails one(1) time, it was a dried up iridescent blue that Addie dug up and was going to throw away but Grant wanted to try it. He didn't know what nail polish remover was though so he scraped his teeth on his nails to get it all off but he couldn't get all of it and he almost cried so hard he threw up at dinner that night because he was scared of Slade noticing (Slade didn't notice and wouldn't have cared if he did).

Thought he was SO stealthy when he snuck out but literally everyone knew because he always came home smelling like weed, hungover, and he went to school in the same clothes he wore to go out. Most of the time Addie didn't care (See above: "former wild child") but Slade "Biggest loser in his hometown" Wilson always had an issue with it.

Officially his tomb is located in the Kane family plot but he's actually buried in Slades hometown next to his grandmother. (Adeline is not aware of this)

Joey was actually the one who pulled most of the pranks when they were kids, but Grant always took the fall. Mostly because literally no one would believe it even if Joey said he did it. Which he tried to do, many times.

Grant taught Joey to make flower crowns but he never admitted it because he thought it made him look weak. He still keeps the few that Joey made for him though, they're basically turning to dust in the drawer he hid them in to this day. They're one of the few things that weren't torn down and shoved in the attic after his death.

Joey still celebrates Grant's birthday every year, him and mom play The Last Man by Clint Mansell on the piano because it was his favorite piece to play before he stopped because it wasn't "cool".

Grant tried to get Joey to come with him when he ran away but Joey didn't want to leave Addie. Joey ended up moving into Grant's old apartment, he often thinks of what life would be like if he'd taken up the offer.

Grant is THE ass hole big brother from the late 90's/early 2000's. Down to the mullet and the shirt with the sleeves cut off. He used to steal Addie's eyeliner and she would get so mad because that stuff is EXPENSIVE and he's just smearing however. She teaches him how to do it properly but he says it makes him look "too girly".

Grant's picture is the only one in Slades wallet because he doesn't have to worry about putting him in danger anymore.

DON'T let Joey's "natural" pretty boy look fool you he has a 20 step skin routine and a 15 step hair routine and he wakes up at the ass crack of dawn to start on his makeup.

He used to get the worst acne as a pre-teen and he has physically burned all the evidence except for one picture of him and Slade on a fishing trip when he was like thirteen, he doesn't know it exists and it's the only picture Slade consistently travels with.

He doesn't want to be the favorite but he would get mad if someone else was the favorite because what work were YOU even putting in for it.

He has 12 year old boy humor I fear. Giggles at dick jokes and has used his name to make "Joe Mama" jokes on various occasions.

Number one Mama's boy of all time, there's not a single time they've gone out in public together where they haven't had coordinated outfits. Him and Addie call biweekly to shit talk people and exchange recipes and the like.

Joey is THE biggest gossiper. He'll talk shit about people right in front of them if he's sure they don't know ASL and whoever is around just has to try not to laugh while they "translate" him.

He's so good at convincing people to do things for him just by looking at them with his big ol' eyes. And he's a theater kid so his expressions are really exaggerated.

Rose, my muse. I know canonically she's a smoker but I'm changing that to her being a vaper. I don't know she just looks like she'd beat the shit out of you for a cherry lemon cancer stick.

Energy drinks don't work on her in normal amounts so to rectify that she constantly walks around with horrific concoctions in a water bottle the size of her head.

She street races as R4V4G3R and she's pretty good at it. She learned a lot about cars doing it which is how Slade justified being an anonymous benefactor for her.

The few weeks Slade had her she ran that shit like the navy. Up at 6 AM on the dot, tight ass ponytail swaying as she got ready for school. She was out that door by 7:25 everyday and she would MAKE Slade violate traffic laws to get to school by 7:35.

Has bitten people before and will do it again.

Had the BIGGEST crush on Donna Troy when she was on the Teen Titans. She didn't know it then but she did. Her taste in women really hasn't changed at all.

Only has her grunge thing going on when she's planning on meeting people, average day outfit is all pastels and florals that her mom used to pick out for her.

Got pretty much all of Lili's stuff, her main apartment is always Immaculately decorated. She also lives in L.A. because literally fuck New York. She's trying to get her engineering degree in PEACE.

She looks up to Grant a lot, she really only has Joey's account of things and he only tells her the good stuff. How he was brave, and strong, and funny. When she was younger she really wanted to be like him, but that was the last thing Slade wanted. So obviously she named herself Ravager out of spite.

Rose is the shortest one in the family but she's buff as hell, my girl is built like a fridge and she knows it. Joey tried to rest his arm on her head one and she stabbed him. It didn't go through his armor obviously but it did leave a mildly annoying bruise that he pouted about for a week.

She low-key really likes Addie but she tends to stay away because of the whole "child of infidelity" thing. She HAS threatened to call Addie on Slade multiple times.

Grew up with a bunch of other kids so she never really wanted siblings, but she would kill for Joey. She'd like a sister though. Really misses her cousins and aunts from the brothel but doesn't want to put them in danger by talking to them.

She's fond of kids but wouldn't want her own because she doesn't want to bring a kid into the kinda life she has, or their family in general.

Routinely takes jobs from Slade because she knows full well he won't do shit. And she's right every time he makes it into a team up that usually ends with them fighting but sometimes, every once in a while, they do something nice together and it makes her remember why she wanted to find him so bad when she was 13.

I don't like her carving her eye out for Slade I thought the whole concept of her idolizing Slade was fucking stupid. She tolerates him at best. So I like to attribute it to her visions, I think the blind prophet symbolism is really fun. Especially because then we can have a Prometheus type situation where her eye patch keeps switching sides/sometimes she's not blind because she keeps carving them out in fits of Seer Madness™️ but they keep regenerating.

SHE HAS BROWN EYES HER EYES ARE BROWN I KNOW HER PERSONALLY PLEASE LET HER KEEP EVEN ONE OF HER ETHNIC FEATURES I BEG!!!

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