#answer: he can fly so he's the designated driver | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

l0vergirlsw0rld · 29 days

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adam designated driver

intoxicated!readerxcaretaker!adam

a/n: adam driver is maybe like the love of my life I hope he reads well. this is also an older fic but maybe 2020-ish?

wc: 2.3k

18+ MDNI | no smut but sexual themes

summary: Y/N went out and had a few too many, when trying to call a taxi driver, she taps her friend adam's contact instead.

"Can I get a whiskey sour?!"You managed to shout over the pulsating bass.

The bartender nodded, turning around to grab the bottles he needed.

He was in his mid-twenties, sporting a thick beard and jewelry: trendy black stretchers, multiple rings on his fingers, and bead bracelets that swung from his wrists as he shook the shaker vigorously.

You observed his rings up close as slid your fifth drink of the night in front of you. You shouted a 'thank you' and passed him the money. The chilled glass froze your palm as you grabbed it. You winced hissed.

You were already intoxicated, which resulted in you feeling warmer than usual. You began to drink your cocktail, wincing from the prominent bourbon taste hitting your tongue.

Turning to the dance floor on your bar stool, you observed your friends dancing provocatively in front of the men.

They would grind on each other and kiss for the sake of attention as if their clothing alone wouldn't draw attention, and it would work every time. Men who were complete strangers would buy you and your friends multiple rounds throughout the night hoping to get lucky.

Tonight, you all wore matching tight-fitted black mini skirts and tops that barely covered your chest. Your outfit in question was uncomfortable, to say the least, but it was like wearing a costume. When you'd dress like that, it was as if you were a new person, for one night. You immediately gained a newfound confidence and your adventurous side would come out to play.

You grinned against your glass, chuckling to yourself.

How you loved being a woman.

You scootch off the seat, stumbling, trying to find your footing. Your sense of balance was terrible when you were drunk and your heels did not help with that at the moment.

Eventually, you made your way to your friends on the dance floor, joining the small circle to include yourself again.

"Y/N! There you are, I missed you!" Your little blonde friend threw herself on you. You caught her in your arms, laughing.

The six of you danced to the beat. Hips swaying, arms in the air, hair flying everywhere. You could feel the blood pumping through your veins, and sweat forming on your forehead, but you didn't care you were having so much fun.

our arms were raised in a state of intoxicated freedom as you tried to keep up with your friends, whose energy seemed endless.

Your fingertips tingled as you waved your hands to the rhythm, and your feet grew numb from the constant stomping.

Your head felt heavy on your neck, and your eyelids became harder to keep open. You were running out of breath.

Your movements turned sloppy as your body began to fatigue, even though your mind insisted you had more energy than you actually did. Your chest heaved, struggling to breathe in the tight top.

A couple hours went by and the club slowly began to empty out as people left in small crowds. The night was approaching its end.

You were seated in a booth with fewer friends, all of you trying to call your drives home.

Your vision was blurry as you fiddled with your phone, trying to hold it properly.

The aggressive blue light blinded you. You squinted, opening your contacts app.

A few scrolls down and you found your usual Taxi Driver's phone number.

You pressed it, bringing your phone close to your ear. The ringing echoed loudly in your ears as you drunkenly awaited a response. He finally answered.

"Ugh-mkay, uh I'm at thuh Sound Night Club.... on Las Palmas, can you cohme get me? I'm fuckhing drunhk." You slurred into the phone mic.

After a few exchanges, you hung up. "Welp ladies, my taxi issa comin soon so I gotta wait outside." You stood, steadying yourself on the table. You draped your jacket over your shoulders, clinging your wallet and phone to your chest. You gave them each a kiss on the cheek and said your goodbyes.

Your heels padded on the tacky red carpet as you slowly made your way to the entrance. Before leaving you wished the bouncer a good night. "It's not my birthday, but thank you." He replied. You just smiled, confused.

You pushed the heavy doors open, only to be greeted with a freezing gust of air. Your exposed legs were now covered in chills. The street lights illuminated your flushed cheeks; how nice. You leaned your back against the club's brick wall and waited for your Taxi.

A shiny black Camaro pulled up to the curb, flashing its lights and honking its horn. You stayed put, wondering whose ride it was. It then honked again.

You just observed silently.

The driver's door opened and a tall dark man rose from the car. "Y/N?" He shouted. You jumped slightly. This wasn't your taxi driver: You wondered who the man was, and how he knew your name.

Fucking trouble, that's who.

The unknown man was shouting your name. You looked around to see if anyone else was outside that you could ask for help; not one.

Fuck it, you thought.

You took a run for it, your cheap heels clicking on the cement sidewalks, and you gripped all of your belongings as if your life depended on it, and at that moment it did.

The streets of Los Angeles were dangerous at this time of night, and you were the desired victim; a drunk, helpless, pretty girl in slutty clothing.

So much for being a woman!

The cold air breezed through your product-filled hair as you ran down an alley, only to be cornered by the car again.

You stopped in your tracks, shocked. Your heart pounded in your ears and your mouth was now dryer than a desert. You couldn't find your voice to yell for help.

The man got out again and started running after you, leaving his door open. The car lights blinded you, you could only see his tall shadow approaching you, quickly.

You once again tried to make a run for it but your heel fell through a manhole cover. You rolled your ankle and fell to your knees, your full weight hitting the solid pavement. You groaned in pain. The man rushed to your sides, as you cried on your hands and knees.

This was the end.

"Y/N! What were you thinking? You could've gotten seriously hurt! You could've gotten hit by a fucking car!!" The familiar voice gritted with rage. You lifted your head trying to identify this strange individual's face, only to reveal the face of your friend, Adam.

"Adam? Why the fuhhck are yohu trying to kidhnap me for?" You slurred, trying to push away from his grip. "Kidnap? What? -Y/N, you called me from the club asking me to pick you up." He raised an angry eyebrow.

You just broke down in tears, feeling lost and confused.

"You're too drunk." He grumbled, shaking his head.

"nO, I called, Denis. My usual taxi." You squinted, pulling out your phone to show him. Adam plucked the phone from your grasp and examined the phone.

"Y/N, it says Driver. Driver, Adam." He sighed impatiently.

"Oh, well, i swearr thaht I actually talked to hi-WOah!" Adam had cut you off by picking you up bridal style from the ground.

"Let me down!" You attempted to squirm but your lack of energy or control didn't allow you to do so.

"No, Y/N. You hurt your ankle. Now stop whining and let me take care of you. It's late- It's 4 in the fucking morning and you're acting like a child." He knelt down to grab your jacket that was at his feet and proceeded to place you on the passenger side of his car.

He then resumed his place at the wheel and sped off to his apartment. His car hummed loudly down the silent streets.

During the drive, you were quiet, your scraped knees were pulled to your chest and you faced your window, observing the lights that flashed by as Adam sped through the neighbourhood.

You began to feel your soberness again because all the adrenaline was gone and the pain was now settling in.

Adam pulled into the parking garage and stopped the car in his usual spot. He turned off his vehicle and picked you up once more, this time with less anger. You toyed with the collar of his shirt as he carried you to his door. He had so many birthmarks on his neck.

Arriving at 11B, he managed to unlock and kick his door open. He used his elbows to switch on the lights and laid you on the grey sofa.

"Do you need anything? Some pants, another shirt? Socks?" He spoke on top of you, trying to keep you awake.

"This outfit is too tight, Adamhm, can I borrow some long socks and one of your T-shirts?" You breathed out, with your eyes closed. Your head felt heavy against the firm couch pillow, it's like you were sinking in quicksand.

"I'll be right back." He said.

You peeked an eye open to observe his apartment decor. It was minimalistic, with tones of light greys, topes and whites. Indie artists covered his walls, and colourful woven rugs were sprawled across the floor. He had lots of books on his shelf in the corner, you propped yourself up and dragged your feet to the library dizzily.

Poetry.

Adam had lots of notorious poets in his collection.

He returned shortly.

"Here you go. Are you sure you don't want some shorts or sweatpants? They have drawstrings, so you can tighten it as much as you want." He placed the clothing on the oak coffee table that you were now making your way to.

"I'm sure... thank you, Adam." You smiled unzipping your painfully tight top, exposing your red push-up bra. Adam's eyes diverted to the floor, he didn't want to make you uncomfortable.

"If you need anything else, I'll be upstairs in my bedroom. It's the first door on your left." He turned to leave.

"Wait, Adam!" You let the top fall to your feet.

"Yes?" He turned around, making only eye contact, trying to not observe your figure.

"You have poetry books in your library." You said, sliding your skirt off, leaving you in only your matching lace undergarments.

Adam controlled his breathing.

"I do, I do, uh, do you read lots of... poetry?" He asked leaning against his living room door frame.

"I actually used to write some and read them at open mic nights." You smiled, unclipping your bra swiftly, allowing your breasts to bounce out of your bra.

"Much better," You muttered.

"I-I uh, I didn't know that." He bit the inside of his cheek, face remaining unreadable. He crossed his muscular arms over his chest and fixed his posture. You could hear his foot tapping the floor, and you could sense uneasiness in him.

Oh?

Casually, you let the bra fall, like your top, and slid on his grey Star Wars t-shirt that he probably had received from a fan.

Adam was not one to watch let alone buy merchandise from his own projects. The Kylo graphic tee looked cute on you, it ended mid-thigh and wasn't too wide.

"I still write sometimes, but not as much as I'd like to, you know? What about you, do you write?" You sat on the low coffee table, knowing well, that Adam was struggling to keep his composure and slid on his long black socks that went up to your knees.

"I do, but I don't think that it's good." He chuckled, trying to seem less awkward. You simply smiled at the statement and found your place on the couch.

"um- you need some water and aspirin, I'll go get that for you." He said and walked out of the room, his heavy footsteps thumped on the creaky wooden floors.

In one hand he had a big glass of iced water, and in the other, he had two tiny pills. "Thank you," you mumbled tiredly, washing down the medicine with water. "Need anything else?" He asked glancing at the time: 4:52 AM.

"No, I'll be fine, thank you, Adam. For everything. It's really appreciated. Also, I'm sorry for earlier, I thought you were trying to hurt me, it was dumb." You looked down at the glass that you held in your lap, in embarrassment.

"You are...welcomed." He gave you a small close-mouthed smile before shutting off the lights and going upstairs to his own bed.

You tossed and turned on that shitty sofa. It was small compared to your bed at home and the throw blanket was too thin for your liking, you really wished you would've taken up that offer on the sweatpants.

"Ugh, fuck it." You groaned, now fully sober and exhausted.

You quietly got up and proceeded to make your way upstairs to the first bedroom on the left. You turned the doorknob slowly and pushed it even slower to avoid making any noise. You saw that his bedside light was on, and you could make out faint clicking noises. When you fully opened the door, you were happy to be greeted by Adam sitting shirtless in bed, typing on his computer.

"Hi." You quietly spoke.

He lifted his chin and met your eyes with his brown ones. "Hi." He gave you a toothy smile.

"Can't sleep either?" You asked, padding towards his gigantic bed. "No, not really." He chuckled closing his laptop and placing it on his bedside table.

You sat on the foot of his bed, observing his thick chest and shoulders. He was a very attractive man, very large, he looked soft. You bit your lip at the thought.

"Come." He lifted the covers from the unoccupied side of the bed and tapped the mattress like when prompting a dog or cat to come sit next to you.

You obeyed and got under the covers next to him, already feeling his warmth.

You hummed in delight as he turned off the lamp. Adam laid on his side, facing you. You did the same, trying to focus your eyes on his face through the new darkness.

He let out a tired sigh and without warning, he pulled your whole body forward. Your head was buried in his chest, his bicep supported your neck, and his other arm rubbed your back.

"Sleep, or you'll get sick tomorrow morning. "

You smiled and inhaled the scented body wash he used. You absent-mindedly pressed a kiss to his chest, making him hum lovingly.

A moment of thinking passed and he then tipped your head back, to place a long tender kiss on your lips. You returned the kiss, feeling his plump lips against yours in delight, sending butterflies in your stomach.

After, you returned to his chest and he placed another kiss on your forehead, drifting you slowly to sleep.

oh adam, i'd die for you

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usafphantom2 · 6 months

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SR-71 pilot recalls when he set 13 acres of Maryland on fire by dumping fuel after one engine exploded during his last Blackbird flight

The SR-71 Blackbird

In the 1960’s, the US Air Force (USAF) developed the SR-71 Blackbird, a plane that could travel more than 3 times as fast as the sound produced by its own engines.

Throughout its nearly 24-year career, the SR-71 spy plane remained the world’s fastest and highest-flying operational aircraft. Flying at Mach 3+ from 80,000 feet, it could survey 100,000 square miles of Earth’s surface per hour. And in the off chance an enemy tried to shoot it down with a missile, all the Blackbird had to do was speed up and outrun it.

SR-71 T-Shirts

CLICK HERE to see The Aviation Geek Club contributor Linda Sheffield’s T-shirt designs! Linda has a personal relationship with the SR-71 because her father Butch Sheffield flew the Blackbird from test flight in 1965 until 1973. Butch’s Granddaughter’s Lisa Burroughs and Susan Miller are graphic designers. They designed most of the merchandise that is for sale on Threadless. A percentage of the profits go to Flight Test Museum at Edwards Air Force Base. This nonprofit charity is personal to the Sheffield family because they are raising money to house SR-71, #955. This was the first Blackbird that Butch Sheffield flew on Oct. 4, 1965.

Its engineering was so cutting edge that even the tools to build the SR-71 needed to be designed from scratch.

What it’s like to fly the world’s fastest plane

Spencer Hall interviewed for SBNation former SR-71 Blackbird pilot Rick McCrary about what it’s like to fly the world’s fastest plane.

McCrary explained;

‘You waddle out there in your spacesuit, carrying your little cooler because it gets quite hot in that spacesuit. You go out to a van with some La-Z-Boys in it, these big recliners, and they drive you out to the airplane. It’s sitting there with all the cables hooked up to it, just like a space launch. It’s outgassing stuff, people are checking it, and then people start unhooking it and leaving and then it’s just you and the crew chief. You get into the seat, close the hatch, and you’re in your cocoon.

‘Startup was also a unique thing. It had this special fuel, because the temperatures during flight got up to over 600 degrees Fahrenheit when you’re at speed. The worry is that normal fuel, which you want to explode quickly during flight and have a low flashpoint, well…you wanted the exact opposite with the Blackbird. You’re carrying so much fuel that the last thing you want to worry about is it self-igniting.

Join this SR-71 Blackbird driver for a top secret recoinnassance mission over North Korea

A Boeing KC-135Q Stratotanker refueling an SR-71

‘You’d burn 80,000 pounds of fuel in about an hour and twenty minutes. That’s a lot of gas. You’re on the boom a lot, and that was why in-flight refueling experience was such a critical part of the screening process. You didn’t have a lot of time to do it, and you had to get it right the first time. Three refuelings was common, but on longer missions you’d refuel six or eight times. Those were long days.

Last flight on the SR-71 Blackbird

‘You’d light up the afterburner right after that first refueling, and take it to full power for the next hour. That’s pretty amazing, because no other plane can fly in full afterburner continuously. All other planes have either a three minute limit, or five minute limit on that, but you’d be going at full afterburner for an hour, hour and a half.’

When Hall asked McCrary if he remembered when his last SR-71 Blackbird flight took place, he answered;

‘The answer is kind of an interesting yes and no. There came the time to move on, and we had a good deal. We got to take it to the National Air Show in Washington, DC and put it on display there. That was going to be our last flight.

SR-71 print

This print is available in multiple sizes from AircraftProfilePrints.com – CLICK HERE TO GET YOURS. SR-71A Blackbird 61-7972 “Skunkworks”

Setting 13 acres of Maryland on fire during last flight on the SR-71 Blackbird

‘As we took off from there and came back around for a pass, the right engine exploded. We had to dump gas, and set about thirteen acres of Maryland on fire as we did that. That was kind of interesting, just spewing flaming fuel and titanium pieces around.’

McCrary explained that this wasn’t rural Maryland;

‘Actually, we were pointed at the White House out of Andrews Air Force Base. It was funny listening back to the voice tape because I start by saying “Well, we’ll go out over the bay here and dump this fuel.” About thirty seconds later I say “Screw it” and just dump it. We defoliated southern Maryland, but we got it back on the ground, which was great. After all that happened, I absolutely remember shutting it down. My legs started shaking uncontrollably with the adrenaline from it all when I knew it was over with. My co-pilot never flew again, either.’

Be sure to check out Linda Sheffield Miller (Col Richard (Butch) Sheffield’s daughter, Col. Sheffield was an SR-71 Reconnaissance Systems Officer) Twitter X Page Habubrats SR-71 and Facebook Page Born into the Wilde Blue Yonder for awesome Blackbird’s photos and stories.

@Habubrats71 via X

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panfishonthefly · 13 days

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The Perfect Fly Rod for Panfish

Hands down, the most frequent question I am asked is what is the ideal rod for chasing panfish. Before I answer that question, we need to consider our quarry. Panfish is a term that covers a broad range of fish, including members of the sunfish family, including crappie, rock bass, and warmouth, as well non-sunfish like white and yellow perch, white bass, yellow bass, Rio Grande Cichlids, and several other smaller freshwater fish. While these fish may be on the small side, they are hard fighters that live in a wide range of habitats and eat a wide variety of flies, from tiny midges to big air-resistant poppers and foam or hair bugs.

The perfect panfish fly rod must perform well on a small farm pond or sprawling reservoirs, as well as tiny creeks and big rivers. It should be able to delicately cast a tiny dry fly, as well as handle a sizeable hard-bodied popper. I should be able to handle streamers and nymphs fished on floating and sinking fly lines. That's a tall order for any fly rod, but the ideal panfish rod must be light enough to allow you to appreciate the fight of these diminutive fish.

While I love the fight of scrappy bluegill on an ultralight two or three-weight fly rod, these rods are often too light to handle some of the larger, less aerodynamic flies I enjoy fishing. Casting double fly rigs, something I do quite often, on these light rods can be difficult, especially in windy conditions. As a result, I have settled on four-weight fly rods as my daily driver, although I still fish lighter rods when conditions are right for it.

A fly rod around seven and a half feet in length is ideal for me. It is long enough to make long casts on open water but compact enough to use on small streams or areas with a lot of overhead cover. While the current trend is to make rods stiffer and faster, I prefer slower, softer rods as they fit my casting style. I also like how mid or full-flex rods allow you to appreciate the fight of these smaller fish. A good bluegill will bend this type of rod down to the cork!

Fiberglass, especially modern S-glass rods, fit this bill perfectly. The only downside to these rods has been their ability to cast some of the larger flies I fish or deal with very windy conditions. I have often wished some of my favorite glass rods had a little more backbone in the butt section to deal with wind, big flies and the occasional big bass grabs a fly intended for panfish,

Building The Perfect Panfish Fly Rod

This past January, while attending the Fly Fishing Show as a featured fly tier in Marlborough, Massachusetts, I struck up a conversation with Jordan Ross, the owner of JP Ross Fly Rods. I was introduced to Jordon by good friend and fellow fly tier Fritz Miller, who owned a few JP Ross fly rods. He knew Jordon had a soft spot for panfish and thought we should meet.

During a slow spell at the show, I wandered over to the JP Ross booth to check out some of their fly rods. While speaking with Jordon, it became clear that we had similar tastes in fly rods. I cast a few of his rods and frankly loved them all, but they were similar to other glass rods I already owned. When I mentioned my desire to have a modern, lightweight, s-glass rod that could handle big flies (as well the occasional bass), cast in windy conditions yet still allow me to appreciate the fight of a smaller fish, his eyes lit up. He had a project he was working on that might solve my problems. He developed a fiberglass fly rod called the Toad. What set this rod apart from other glass four and five-weight glass rods on the market today was the fact that this rod was built with a stiffer butt section but retained a traditional feel in the top three sections. Jordon modified the butt section of this rod to make it more stiff and stronger for applications that need a little more backbone in the butt. While doing so, he kept the ferrule design the same; that means the TOAD butt section is interchangeable with their normal S-Glass fly rods.

Jordon handed me a 7 1/2 foot four weight with a Toad butt section, and I headed back to the casting pond. On my first cast, I could immediately feel the difference. That stiffer butt section allowed me to put as much power as I wanted into the cast, and the fly rod responded perfectly, laying out long, accurate casts as well as handling a short line with ease. I was sold.

We discussed collaborating on a rod project during the show, and I agreed without hesitation. Jordon brought in the incredibly talented artist Jeff Kimball to make the rod something special. Jeff Kimball's artwork appears on several of JP Ross's fly rods, and I was very excited to see what he could come up with regarding a panfish-themed rod. The results are breathtakingly beautiful.

In a few months, I had a JP Ross Panfish On The Fly edition fly rod in my hands. While I wanted to start spreading the word about this collaboration immediately, I wanted to put the rod through its paces first to ensure it performed as well as I thought it would. I have tested the fly rod in various fishing situations this past year and I am thoroughly pleased with the results.

Of course, my main objective was to use the rod for panfish. I used the rod at the start of the season, casting delicate midge patterns to early-season panfish. As the season progressed, the rod passed its second test delivering streamers and multiple wet fly rigs to pre-spawn sunfish and crappies. This past summer, the rod flawlessly handled bulky foam bugs, hair bugs, and popper/dropper rigs. Throughout the season, I fished in various conditions ranging from blustery late winter days to windless, sultry summer evenings. The rod cast flies of all sizes and still allowed me to appreciate the fight of smaller fish. As is usually the case, several larger predators were encountered, including a largemouth bass that topped the scales over five pounds. The stiffer butt section on this fly rod allowed me to handle this big fish with confidence.

In addition to my panfishing endeavors, I brought the rod along with me on several trips around the country. I used it to fish for smallmouth bass and landlocked salmon in Maine. While I typically would not use a four-weight in these situations, I wanted to put the new rod to the test, and it performed wonderfully. The fly rod also traveled with me to the mountain west where it felt at home on the small backcountry streams where I fished. I even put it through what I would call a torture test by fishing it on the Madison River, where it successfully landed several rainbow and brown trout over twenty inches. If you have ever fished a big river like the Madison, you know how strong these big trout can be.

After an entire fishing season, the rod has lost that "new" look. The fine cork grip has been darkened with the slime of hundreds of fish, but the artwork on the reel seat and blank still shines as bright as the first time I took the rod out of the tube. I have caught many species of sunfish, crappie, rock bass, large and smallmouth bass, rainbow, brook, and brown trout, landlocked salmon, and even arctic grayling on this rod over the last few months. It has cast everything from delicate spinners to big poppers, and I am happy to say that the rod has exceeded my expectations. I am ready to share it with the world!

If you are interested in a rod for yourself…

The purchaser can customize JP Ross fly rods in several ways. If the artwork I selected does not resonate with you, let Jordan know, and he can discuss other options with you. In addition to the standard reel seat artwork, you can add custom artwork to the blank, the butt cap of the reel seat, and the rod tube. This customization also applies to the grip. If you do not like the tapered half-wells cork grip I selected, you can customize the grip to your liking.

I want to be brutally honest here. Do you need a custom-built fly rod to enjoy fly fishing for panfish? Absolutely not! The motto of JP Ross Fly Rods is "Simply Fish," and that certainly applies here. I often tell folks to fish the rods that you already own. Don't sweat if it is a little too light or a bit too heavy. Just get out, enjoy the great outdoors, and fish. However, if you have been searching for the perfect panfish fly rod, I have one for you to consider. Check out the JP Ross "Panfish on the Fly" edition TOAD 7'6" 4 weight four pc fly rod. If you decide to pick one up, you will not be disappointed!

The rods are available now and can be ordered directly through JP Ross Fly Rods. If you decide to purchase a Panfish On The Fly edition JP Ross Fly Rod, you will support both JP Ross and Panfish On The Fly, as a portion of these sales will go to Panfish On The Fly. Click the button below for more information or purchase a rod.

If you have any questions about this build, don't hesitate to contact me (the button below will take you to my email). I am happy to share my impressions and answer any questions. You can also reach out to Jordan at JP Ross Fly Rods. He can fill you in on the design aspects of the fly rod and discuss any customizations you may be interested in. In addition, Jordan can set you up with a complete outfit, including a rod, reel, and line if desired.

If you decide to pick up a JP Ross Panfish On The Fly edition, please share your thoughts with me! I would love to hear from you.

#The JP Ross/Panfish On The Fly Fly Rod

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chickensarentcheap · 1 year

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Lost and Found- Chapter 8

Fandom: Extraction

Pairing: Tyler Rake and Esme Drummond (established OFC. Although you do not need to read the others to understand this one)

Warnings: angst, mild profanity,

Tagging: @tragiclyhip @secretaryunpaid @youflickedtooharddamnit @thesirenrealm @residentdormouse @asirensrage @munstysmind @muchadoaboutcj @starryeyes2000 @karimac @arrthurpendragon @ocappreciationtag @occommunity @themaradaniels

My tag list is OPEN. Just give me a shout if you’d like to added :)

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43179357/chapters/116371852

******

He arrives in New York City shortly after one pm; the owner of The Continental sending a chauffeured, bulletproof Lincoln Town Car to fetch him.

“Now is not the time to cheap out on security,” the driver had told him when he’d commented on how he could have just taken a cab; uncomfortable with the kind of treatment that comes with associating with the likes of those that work under The High Table. “People are watching. They are ALWAYS watching.”

The moment he steps foot in the hotel, he becomes the focus of attention; the eyes of both the politely curious and the disgusted and disdained following his every move. He ignores both the stares and the whispers as he confidently strides towards the front desk; the soles of his boots squeaking ever so slightly on the gleaming marble floods. He’s painfully out of place among the expensive Italian suits and designer labels; clad in well-worn blue jeans, and a blue, brown, and white long-sleeve plaid shirt over a white t-shirt under a beaten and tattered utility jacket. A simple, knitted black beanie covers his freshly shorn hair and a rucksack from his army days is slung over his right shoulder; enough clothes to last him a few days. IF they’re forced to say that long.

But despite his modest appearance and his long absence, he’s greeted by Charon’s warm, dark eyes and welcoming smile as he steps up to the concierge desk.

“Mister Rake. How nice to see you again. Welcome back. It’s been quite a while.”

“About ten years,” he confirms. “ See you’re still keeping the place running, huh?”

Charon chuckles. “I wouldn’t know about THAT. I merely answer the phones and book rooms and send people on their way. I’m hardly breaking a sweat. We have missed you. I know you were never a regular, but it was always nice to see you. To catch up. How are things ‘down under’?”

“Busy. And hot. Very hot. Things have been good here? I see the old place got a facelift. When did that happen?”

“About six years ago. But I assure you, she is still the same beautiful, graceful old lady.”

“You’ve got the same owner?”

“Same owner. “

Tyler reaches into his pocket for one of the gold coins that Yaz had given him before de-boarding the plane; placing it on the countertop and then sliding it towards the concierge.

Plucking the object up from the smooth, marble surface, Charon briefly inspects it for authenticity before slipping it into one of the pockets on his suit jacket. Then turns his attention to the computer in front of him, fingers flying over the keyboard. “I see we have you for three nights. Tentatively.”

“Depends on how things go. How fast we can get them off the ground. And how cleanly.”

“Of course, sir.” The other man produces a keycard from a drawer behind the desk, then holds it out in offering. “Room six fifteen. Should I announce your arrival?”

“Give me a few hours. Just to grab something to eat and some sleep. It was a hell of a long flight.”

“You will find a room service menu on the bedside table. All of the delicacies offered at our in-house restaurant can be delivered straight to your door. There are no restrictions. And our servers are at your beck and call; twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.”

“I expect nothing less from this place.”

“Is there anything I could get sent upstairs for you? Something to drink? A bottle of scotch, perhaps?”

“I don’t touch the stuff anymore. Haven’t had a drop in almost five years. But thank you.”

“My pleasure, sir. If there’s anything you need, please do not hesitate to call the desk. And do let me know when you’d like me to tell Ms. Khan that you’ve arrived.”

Tyler smirks. “MS Khan, huh? Nik know you call her that?”

“She has expressed disdain at the title. Scolded me once or twice. But we pride ourselves on our professionalism here at The Continental.”

“Definitely a diamond in the rough. Almost makes me wish I’d not gone into the private sector. Might have enjoyed things a bit more had I gone this direction.”

“Be careful what you wish for. It’s not for everyone. It comes with its…how should I say?...downfalls. I think someone such as yourself does much better in an environment that’s not so…strict.”

“You calling me uncivilized, Charon?”

“Never, sir. Merely stating that the circles you travel in are not quite the same as the ones who come through these doors are known to frequent. And that while it’s always nice to see you, it’s also a good sign when we don’t, if you know what I mean.”

“I do. And I appreciate it. It’s nice to know someone wants me to have some peace and quiet. Stay out of trouble.”

“You have more than earned your rest, sir. And I must admit that after such a long absence, I was quite hopeful our paths would never cross again. A sign that life was treating you well. As it should.”

“Trouble always seems to find me. One way or another. Nature of the beast, yeah? Once you get in this life, you never really get out of it.”

“For your sake, I hope that isn’t true. That this is the last time I will be welcoming you. And it’s not because I don’t like you. It’s because I DO.”

“Well, you’re one of the select few. And for what it’s worth, you’re alright yourself.”

A smile tugs the corners of Charon’s mouth. “Coming from you, I take that as an utmost compliment. Are you certain there is nothing more I can do for you at this time?”

“We’re good. I’ll let you know. When I’m ready to meet with Nik.”

“I feel I should let you know that the owner would like to meet with you at some point. There are some things he’d like to discuss.”

“Is that just a friendly heads up or a warning?”

“Simply a professional courtesy. It’s been a pleasure, sir. A genuine one.”

“Believe me, Charon, after the last few years I’ve had, the pleasure is all mine.”

“Onwards and upwards, as they say. And as always, it IS good to see you again. We hope you enjoy your stay, Mister Rake.”

*****

Following two hours of sleep, a long hot shower, and a change of clothes, Nik greets him in the fifteenth-floor hallway; wrapping him in a warm embrace and then holding him at arm’s length. “You look good, Tyler. Healthy.”

“I FEEL good. Healthier than I have in a long time. Mind you, the jet lag will catch up sooner or later, but…”

“How was the flight? I know it’s kind of a long haul and…”

“It was boring. Uneventful. Do we really have to do this? The small talk We’ve known each other for a long time, Nik. I thought we were past all this by now.”

“Just trying to catch up. It’s been a while since I last saw you. And I have to say, I was hoping that the next time we DID meet up, it wasn’t because of business. I would rather it have been a social call, but…”

“I gave you my word. Years ago. That I’d be around to help out if you ever desperately needed it. And it sounds like you’re pretty damn desperate.”

“Like I said on the phone, the client won’t even hear about another merc. They’re insisting that you handle everything. And if I’m completely honest, you’re the one guy that I CAN put all my faith into and not regret it in the end.”

He nods in the direction of the door. “So what’s with all the secrecy? And don’t give me some bullshit about not calling me on a secure line. I know how strict you are with things. There was no way you were calling me on something that wasn’t safe. What aren’t you telling me?”

“It’s a delicate situation. One that needed to be handled face to face. I didn’t want to take the risk of telling you over the phone and having you turn the job down. I knew if I got you all the way here, the chances were pretty good that you weren’t going back to Australia empty-handed.”

“A good payday WOULD make the trip worthwhile. But I gotta admit; something doesn’t feel right. Whatever it is you’re not telling me…”

“It’s just…I don’t know…” Nik sighs and rakes a hand through her hair. “...complicated.”

“It’s always fucking complicated, isn’t it? Just who is this client? Why all the mystery? And who the hell did they piss off to find themselves in this kind of trouble?”

“It’s an employee of mine. An intel specialist I had working undercover. Infiltrating a local organized crime family.”

“The mob, you mean.”

“Extremely powerful and dangerous. With very deep roots. And a lot of skeletons in their closet. Not to mention the judges and lawyers and law officials they have in their back pockets. They have their fingers in a lot of pies. None of them good.”

“And this employee got busted?”

Nik nods. “Through no fault of their own. They’d been tied up with the family for eight months. and there’s even the slightest whimper of trouble. Four nights ago, I received an anonymous phone call that said my person’s cover was blown and all hell was going to break loose. The family was out for blood. And they were sending a small army to collect it.”

“Sounds like they’re not the type to handle failure very well. They know where you’ve got everyone hiding out?”

“Everyone knows The Continental is a safe haven. I doubt they’ll show up here. As tough as they are, even though they don’t want to piss off the High Table.”

“It’s the second we step out those doors that we’ll have a problem.”

“There’s a lot that needs to be worked out. A lot of planning we have to do. It isn’t going to be easy; getting them and yourself out of New York in one piece.”

“When is it ever easy? I didn’t come here thinking it would be a cakewalk. What I don’t understand is why anyone would get mixed up with people like that when they have a kid in tow. Why would a parent do that? Get caught up with dangerous people when they’ve got someone depending on them. The kid is innocent. They don’t deserve to be in the middle of all this.”

“I was the one who pressured them,” Nik admits. “Into taking the job. Just like you’re the perfect person for this, they were the perfect person for that. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me. You know how I can be pretty persuasive. Lean on people pretty heavily.”

“How much is the payout?”

“One million. Two fifty for the client, seven fifty for the little girl.”

“So the kid is my main priority.”

“As per the client’s wishes. They’re not concerned for their own well-being. Their biggest worry is getting the little one somewhere safe and keeping her alive and well. That’s it.”

“I’m not a babysitter, Nik. I’m not a nanny. What am I supposed to do with her when I get her there?”

“You were a father. You know how to take care of a kid. I know you haven’t dipped your toes in that particular pool for a while, but I imagine it’s like riding a bike.”

Sighing heavily, he leans back against the wall; eyes briefly closing as he pinches the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger.

“Tyler, if you’re not up to this…”

“I’m here, aren’t I? I wouldn’t have come all this way if I wasn’t up to it. I’m just tired. It’s a hell of a flight from home to here. Just need more sleep. Before jet lag gets even worse. Or better yet, maybe someone can just pour some coffee into one of those IV bags and hook the fucker right up to my arm.”

“After the team meeting later, you’ll be able to get some reason. That’s all that’s on the schedule for today. We’ve got four days here. We should only need two to plan everything out. I’ve planned bigger and more dangerous things in less time.”

“So what am I walking into now? If we’re not all getting together yet, why’d you ask me to come down here? Why…?”

“I think you and the client should have some ‘one-on-one time’. Meet, feel each other out, see if you vibe. If it’s not a good fit, I’ve still got time to bring in someone else. I know it’s not how we usually do things, but this is…” She chooses her words carefully. “...very special circumstances.”

“Because of the age of the kid and all. I get it. I didn’t want her getting freaked out. Some big, beat-up-looking guy getting too close to her and her mum. Besides, aren’t kids usually really good judges of character or something like that? Guess she’s the one I need to win over, huh?”

“Just go in there with an open mind,” Nik encourages. “Just put all your reservations and your judgements and opinions aside. On the whole dragging your kid into the job thing. They need you, Tyler. And part of that is needing you to be as gentle and patient as you possibly can. Like I said…”

“Special circumstances.”

She nods and then turns towards the door; pausing before reaching for the handle. “Are you sure you’re up to this?”

“I wouldn’t have come all this way if I wasn’t sure. I gave my word, didn’t I? To you. To them.”

“Circumstances CAN change. If you’re having reservations…”

“I’m in,” he assures her. “I am ALL in.”

*******

While Nik steps out of the room to fetch the client, Tyler surveys his surroundings. The suite is far more opulent than anything he’s spent time in The Continental; one of a handful of three-bedroom apartments that take up the entire top floor of the hotel. The walls are made of rich and glistening mahogany; bearing incredibly detailed carvings of flowers and trees, stretching upwards to meet the intricate cove ceiling. And the carpet is thick and plush beneath the soles of his combat boots; forest green interspersed with tiny flecks of orange and gold.

The whole place reeks of power and influence. Its fully stocked bar with only top-shelf liquor; accompanied by shelves of crystal highball glasses and long-stemmed champagne flutes. Leather couches and chairs with their brocaded throw pillows; vibrant golds and oranges lending much-needed color to the room. A marble globe and ivory chess set sit in one corner; a lone occupant leaving behind the stump of a cigar and half a glass of whiskey when they had departed. A state-of-the-art television mounted to one wall and an aquarium -full of brightly coloured fish- inlaid in another; the bubbling and humming of the filtration system the only noise disturbing the silence. And the lone picture window, giving a stunning view of New York City. With its congested traffic and its towering structures and the shimmering harbor in the distance.

He stands in front of it now. Hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans as he studies the horizon; mesmerized by the way the sun bounces off towers of steel and glass. It’s been years since he last stepped foot in New York City; a rare -yet extremely lucrative- North American gig that Nik had approached him during his first few months on the job. A gig that had required a little more class; a fresh shave and a fancy suit and mingling with those that inhabit the upper tier of society. His path crossing with many interesting and questionable people; corrupt politicians and crooked members of law enforcement, young socialites with their much older -and extremely wealthy- husbands.

And one infamous and widely feared hitman that was as heartbroken and damaged as he was.

“Tyler?”

It’s soft. Almost timid. And he turns purely on instinct; not leaving any time for the voice to register. His chest and throat immediately tightening; his mouth suddenly painfully dry and his eyes wide with disbelief.

It’s been five years but at that moment, they’re still standing in the kitchen of that old shack in The Kimberley. The one with the rusted tin roof and the creaky, uneven floors, and the pipes that groaned and shook whenever you took a shower. Back when they didn't have much but they were happy; healthy and healing and planning for the future. TOGETHER.

And when he finally manages to speak, it comes out as barely a whisper.

“Esme?”

*******

Her entire body trembles with anxiety; sweat gathers at the nape of her neck and her palms are suddenly cold and clammy. It’s all so much. Not just the tremendous guilt and regret she’s carried all this time, but a staggering amount of love, adoration and attraction. Still as overwhelming as it was nearly five years ago; in that hotel room in Dhaka when she’d finally allowed herself to trust and want and need again. Since the moment she’d walked out the door, she’s spent hours dreaming about this moment; the things she’d feel and how she’d react when they finally got the chance to come face to face again. How would his voice sound to her ears? What would his skin feel like under her fingertips? Would he still smell the same? That crisp and clean scent that always clung to hair and clothes; reminding her of safety and home and all of the other beautiful things he’d brought to her life. She had never once entertained the thought that it would be the job that would cause their paths to cross once more; always holding onto the thought that she’d simply show up on his doorstep, their daughter in tow. Never here. Shrouded in secrecy behind The Continental’s four walls.

“Tyler.” It’s all she can manage; her hands nervously fidgeting with the hem of her blouse, her feet rooted to the floor as she takes in his expression. Shock and bewilderment; the deep furrows in his brow, his wide, disbelieving eyes, and his ragged breathing.

He carries more weight now; his face is fuller and neck thicker, and his shoulders and chest broader. The gray in his hair is more prominent; littering his beard and congregating around his ears, at his temples, and along the bottom of his hairline. There are more lines on his forehead and by the corners of his mouth and around his eyes; the latter not as vibrant as she remembered. Life hasn’t been easy or kind to him; an ongoing struggle to keep his sobriety, the stresses of balancing his firefighting career with not only his home reno business, but the favors that Nik still calls in. It’s his lingering connection to ‘the game’ that has seen more scars added to his collection; tarnishing the skin by the corner of his right eye and the underside of his chin. And one that travels from under his left ear lobe and snakes its way down his jaw.

But he’s still very much Tyler; his scent and his voice familiar.

She attempts a smile; tearful and shaky. “Long time no see.”

“It’s been a while.”

He takes a hesitant first step; arms loose at his side and his hands unclenched. Not wishing to scare or intimidate; sending a clear message that despite how things had ended and how he’d both grieved and raged, he poses no threat. Feeling the abrupt change in himself; the peeling away of the layers of worry that had burdened both heart and shoulders. Many times he’d wondered if she were still alive; if she’d been taken against her will and had simply been unable to contact him before meeting her untimely demise. He’d have nightmares based around the scenario; masked men doing vile and demeaning things to her before killing her in the most brutal, bloody ways possible. And he’d spend days afterwards wallowing in guilt; hating himself because it was easier to accept her death than it was the thought of her leaving him for someone else.

“You’re the client?”

Esme nods

He closes the gap between them; bewilderment turning to concern as he studies the fresh injuries that mar her face. And it’s as if he’s operating on auto-pilot; reaching out to gently explore the blemishes that peek through her makeup. His fingertips slowly passing over every bruise and cut; eyes darkening as concern turns to anger. All these years later…despite all the hurt and the heartbreak…he still possesses a softness towards her; a tender and patient side that she had managed to unearth shortly after they met. He hasn’t shown or revisited since she walked out of his life; closing himself off emotionally and not finding that same level of comfort and trust that had existed between them.

Her eyes close; both body and mind are comforted by his touch. A moment that is so pure and beautiful that it takes her breath away; her head swimming and her cheeks flushed, and her knees weak. She had missed his touch; heart and body both experiencing an unbearable ache whenever she recalled what it was like to be loved… physically…by him. Not just the sexual encounters but the moments of more innocent and subdued intimacy. The feel of rough calluses against soft skin, the repeated brush of his knuckles along her spine, the tenderness displayed by large, powerful hands as they soaped and rinsed her body or scrubbed at her hair. Such a juxtaposition; the softness that could linger inside such an enormous man. Despite his painful back story and all the trauma he’d endured and the things he’d seen and done in combat and on the job, he’d still had so much humanity inside of him; a love and a tenderness that not even the harshest and most brutal of circumstances could completely erase.

“Who did this to you?” His fingertips brush over both the swelling and discolouration that have taken up residence under her left eye.

The need to protect is far greater than any of the negative he’s ever experienced; quickly pushing aside all of the hurt and sadness and long-simmering anger. They’ll return to the forefront eventually; thoughts returning to the year spent looking for her and the countless dead ends he’d encountered and all the horrible scenarios he’d entertained. He’ll want and demand answers; something…anything… that will finally put an end to all the questions and the wondering. And he’ll somehow accept and cope with her explanation even if it does sting like hell to hear.

“Bad people. Very bad people.”

His palm cradles her cheek; the pad of his thumb brushing across her lips. “Are you okay?”

Shaking her head, she peers up at him; unable to control the tears that well in her eyes. “I need your help.”

“When Nik said someone called demanding me, this is NOT what I was expecting. Why didn’t you get a hold of me yourself? Why…?”

“I wasn’t sure you’d even take my call. Or that if you did answer, you’d hear my voice and just hang up. I was scared, I guess; I thought I was probably the last person you’d want to hear from.”

“I’ve only been wanting to hear from you every day for the last five years.”

She blinks at his honesty. His tone neither harsh nor condescending, but instead tinged by the various emotions that come with both deep hurt and lingering affection. “Tyler, I…”

“What happened? Why DO you need me?”

“What has Nik told you?”

“That you were working a job. Something to do with organized crime. Your cover got blown somehow. Is that who did this to you?” His fingertips briefly come in contact with an abrasion on the right side of her forehead; stretching from her hairline to the top of her eyebrow. “Your mark?”

“I’m not sure WHO it was, exactly. People employed by his family, I’m assuming. It’s all so twisted and complicated…”

“Twisted and complicated come hand in hand with the job.”

“It’s a long story; how I got tied up in things. Nik needed someone that could get inside the family; get close enough to hear all the dirty secrets. And everything was going great. I’d been in there for almost eight months and there’d been any sign of trouble. I was SO careful. You know me; I never take unnecessary risks and I always watch my back. If I’d felt anything was off whatsoever…”

“So what happened? Nik said something about information getting leaked and people showing up at the house and…”

“She got a phone call. From an informant. That I’d been figured out. I don’t know if someone saw me with the family and recognized me from when I’d done business in New City before, but…”

“But all hell broke loose.”

“They brought a small army with them. A heavily armed one at that. And if it hadn’t been for Nik getting a team together to get us out of there…”

He frowns. “Us? Who’s us?”

“That’s where it gets even more twisted. And complicated. It’s something you and I really need to talk about. Before we get any further into the business side of things. It’s why I asked Nik to keep her distance; give us a chance to talk to each other in private. There’s a little…I don’t know how to say this…”

“She talked about ‘fragile contents’. And that’s code language for only one thing. There’s a kid involved. Somehow. Yours?”

“And yours.”

His eyes narrow; a scowl tugging at the corners of his mouth. “And mine? What…?”

“I didn’t know about the baby. Not until two weeks after I got here. I wanted to tell you. I wanted to call you right away; I wanted you to be here. But I had to protect both of you and…”

“Wait…wait…” He’s unable to contain the nervous chuckle. “A baby? MY baby?”

“She’s so beautiful, Tyler. She’s beautiful and she’s perfect and she is everything amazing inside both of us. And when you meet her, you’re just going to fall in love with her. I know you will. She is so much like you. From head to toe. She even has your smile and your laugh and all of your facial expressions. It’s like there’s nothing of me whatsoever inside of her. Like I was just the incubator and….” Her face flushes; cheeks feeling impossibly hot as she chews on her bottom lip to stop herself from rambling. “I’m sorry. I am so sorry. That you had to find out this way. This is the last thing I wanted. I had it all planned. How once I was done with this job, I’d take her to Australia and we’d get a hold of you and…”

The door of the suite unexpectedly and Millie rushes in. Her thick, dirty blond hair worn loose and tumbling down to the middle of her back; still damp from the time spent in the indoor pool with Abuela. Her long and lanky frame clad only in a bubble gum pink swimsuit adorned tiny, sparkling silver unicorns. And as she hurries towards her mother, she nearly trips several times over the bottom of the beach towel slung around her shoulders.

“Momma!” She wraps her arms around Esme’s thighs; eyes closing and a content sigh escaping her lips as she squeezes as tight as she can. “I missed you!”

Esme struggles in vain to disguise the nervousness in her voice; feeling the full weight of Tyler’s stare upon her. It’s a mixture of shock, hurt, and betrayal; the reality that the little one being scooped up into her mother’s arms is indeed his. There’s no way he could possibly deny it; Millie bears a striking resemblance to him. Hair color and texture, the long limbs and torso, the brilliant blue eyes, the same nose and jaw structure. “You weren’t even gone that long, sweets. Not even a couple of hours. And you still missed me?”

“I always miss you, mom. Even if it’s just ten minutes.”

“Well, I missed you, too. Nap time isn’t the same without my all time favorite cuddle buddy.” She showers Millie’s forehead and cheeks with kisses before placing her on the ground. “Can you do me a favor? Can you go and…?”

“Hi!” The four-year-old chirps; flashing her toothiest smile as she peers up at Tyler; intrigued by his sheer size and the tattoos that grace his skin. “I’m Millie! Well, my name is really Amelia, but I tell everyone to call me Millie. I think it sounds better. Who are you? What’s your name?”

He swallows noisily; barely able to force the word past his lips. “Tyler.”

“Are you a friend of mom’s?”

“I guess you could say that.”

“Millie…” Esme drops a kiss on the top of her head and then places her hands on her shoulders, attempting to gently steer her away “...why don’t you go and take off your swimsuit and wait for me in the bathroom. I’ll be in in a couple of minutes. Give you a bath and get all that chlorine off of you.”

“Are you here to help?” Millie inquires, as she steps closer to Tyler; the tips of her toes pressed against his boots; head tipping back as far as it possibly goes to ‘size him up’. “Are you going to get us away from the bad guys?”

“I’m going to try, yeah.”

“You’re really big.”

Esme reaches for her; embarrassed by the peppering of questions and comments. “Amelia…”

He manages a grin. “Maybe you’re just really small.”

“Uh-uh. I’m normal size. You’re a giant! Are you like ten feet tall?”

“Six feet. And a couple inches.”

“I like that picture. On your neck. It’s cool. What’s it supposed to be?”

“Tattoo,” Esme gently corrects. “They’re called tattoos.”

“Where’d you get it? In jail?”

“Amelia,” her mother scolds. “What in the world…”

“In the army, actually,” Tyler informs her. “A long time ago.”

“The army? You were like GI Joe?! I can see it. You’re really tall and it looks like you got really big muscles. Do you? Have really big muscles? Momma likes guys with really big muscles. Which is why I don’t get why she was with Alessio. He looks like a wimp. Really small muscles. Not like you. You look really strong. I bet the bad guys never mess with you. You got a girlfriend?”

“Not really, no.”

“She is way too nosey for her own good” Esme offers in a way of apology. “She thinks everyone she meets is automatically her friend and that she can ask a million and one questions and…”

“But he IS my friend, mom,” Millie informs her. “If he’s a friend of yours and he’s here to help with the bad guys…”

“I am so sorry,” Abuela gives a sheepish smile as she hurries into the room; using the towel around her neck to vigorously dry her hair. “She is so fast! And sneaky! Took off as soon as those elevator doors opened. You little miss…” Tousling Millie’s hair, she gently takes her by the shoulders. “...are coming with me. We’ll get you a nice warm bath and some comfy clothes and then decide what we’re going to have for dinner.”

“But I was talking to Tyler! He’s my friend. Why can’t I…?”

“Your mom was talking to him first. We interrupted. Come on, let’s go and get cleaned up. Sooner we do that, sooner we get to eat! Which means we get closer to having ice cream for dessert!”

“Ice cream is my favorite!” Millie gushes, addressing Tyler. “Do you like ice cream? What’s your favorite kind? Mine is mint chocolate chip.”

“That’s my favorite too.”

Millie gasps; eyes wide as she excitedly takes one of his hands on both of hers. “Really? Is it REALLY your favorite? You’re not just saying that?”

“It’s really my favorite.”

“We just became best friends! Besties! Maybe you come with us. To get ice cream! But we can’t have any until after dinner. Are you hungry? You come with us if you want. We don’t mind, right Abuela?”

“I got a lot of stuff going on right now, but maybe we can get ice cream some other time,” Tyler suggests and tentatively reaches out; fingertips clearing damp strands of hair off her forehead and looping others behind her ears. Wanting…needing…to touch her; as if requiring proof that she is actually real and standing right in front of him. It’s a surreal, mind and body-numbing experience; unable to control his movements and his brain struggling to get a firm grasp on this new reality. Trying to accept that after all of the heartbreak following his son’s death and those dark and troubled days filled with grief, guilt, and regrets, he’s suddenly a father again.

Millie keeps a tight hold on his hand; blue eyes sparkling with excitement. “Like an ice cream date?”

“Sure, we can call it that. I mean, if your mum’s alright with it.”

He offers Esme a shaky smile; feeling a potent, confusing mix of not only love and adoration, but hurt and anger. The last thing he wants is to harbor and feed into the latter; he sees the deep furrows of concern that crease her brow and the tears of remorse that prick her eyes. She IS the love of his life; all of those emotions and all of the attraction are still as strong as they had been five years ago. But a deeper layer has been added to both their lives; an even stronger, more permanent bond than the one they’d previously shared. She is now the mother of his child; they’d managed to create an incredible little human together.

The corners of her mouth turn up in a small smile of her own. It’s so hard; so goddamn hard. For everyone involved. There’s no way life has been easy for her; going through a pregnancy alone and then living the past four years as a single mother. But she’s obviously done right by their daughter. Millie is happy and healthy; an intelligent, free spirit that is the center of her mother’s universe.

“That sounds like a great idea,” she muses. “I’d like it if the two of you hung out together.”

“It’s a date!” Millie squeals. “I’ll even wear one of my new dresses! And get Abeula to do my hair all pretty. Ribbons and stuff. You’ll do that, right Abuela?”

“I will. But first thing is first…” She scoops Millie up into her arms. “...cleaning you up! And figuring out what we want to have for dinner. I can hear your tummy just grumbling away. Sounds like an angry bear!”

“I’m starving,” the four-year-old declares. “I’m so hungry, I could eat the ass out of a dead hippopotamus!”

“Amelia!” Esme scolds. “Excuse you?!”

She gives a sheepish grin. “Sorry, mom. I could eat the BUTT out of a dead hippopotamus! Bye, Tyler!” She waves enthusiastically as Abeula carries her through the room. “Maybe we can have our ice cream date tomorrow!”

“I’ll talk to your mum. Make plans.”

“And you don’t have to dress up if you don’t want to, but I’m going to wear my prettiest, frilliest dress. Just for you!”

He returns a final wave with one of his own; a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he watches and listens to her as she goes. Excitedly and incessantly chattering about their upcoming ‘date’ and the various dishes in the hotel restaurant that are her favorites. And it’s when she disappears out of sight that the pain returns; a profound sadness mixed with rage.

“Tyler…” Esme hesitantly begins; reaching out to lay a comforting hand on his bicep. “I’m so sorry. I never…”

His eyes narrow; tone menacing as he regards her angrily and yanks his arm away from her. “How could you do this? Keep her from me? How could you…”

“I didn’t do it to hurt you. I wasn’t trying to keep her away from you. Believe me, I wanted us to be together. I wanted us to be a family. But…”

“Four years, Esme. I’ve been a dad for FOUR YEARS and you didn’t even tell me. After everything we talked about. About how we were going to settle down and start a family and have a normal life. I gave you EVERYTHING I had of myself. And I would’ve given you even more if I could have.”

“I know. I know you would have. And I didn’t leave because I didn’t love you, Tyler. I left you because I did.”

“You know, for five years that’s all I cared about. It was the worst thing that ever happened; losing you and not knowing WHY. Constantly wondering what the fuck I did wrong that made you walk away.”

“You didn’t do ANYTHING. You were everything I ever wanted. I didn’t want to leave you. I just didn’t have a choice.”

“So someone dragged you out, kicking and screaming? Held a gun to your head?”

“No. But they would have. If I didn’t leave, I would have brought nothing but horrible shit to your doorstep. That you wouldn’t have survived. And I couldn’t do that to you. I couldn’t lose you. Not like that. I had to walk away. To save you.”

“You know what? Suddenly why you left isn’t even my biggest concern anymore. It’s why you keep her…our daughter…MY daughter…a secret from me. How could you do that? You knew I wanted to be a dad again. Despite the fact, it scared the shit out of me. I was fucking terrified but I still wanted that experience again. And I wanted it with YOU.”

“I couldn’t tell you. When I found out. I was in the middle of something really scary and horrible and getting in touch with you would have just put you in danger. And I didn’t want that. That's why I left in the first place.”

“What about after? When whatever was going on settled down? Why didn’t you contact me then? Tell me about her? Because I would have been on the next flight. To BOTH of you.”

“I was afraid. That you’d be so angry at me for leaving that you wouldn’t want anything to do with her. And I couldn’t handle that. If you decided not to claim her. I just couldn’t.”

“I would have NEVER done that to you. Or to her. I wanted a family with you. I wanted a kid. You knew THAT.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m sorry? I made a mistake? Because believe me, it was the worst mistake of my life and I have regretted every single second since I left. I really wish things could have been different. That I’d been given any other choice. But leaving was the best thing. Especially for you.”

“There is nothing you can say that will ever make all of this make sense. How could you do this to me? After everything we went through. All the times I spilled my fucking guts to you. The way I turned my entire life around so I could be the man you wanted. That you DESERVED. How could you fuck me over like this? Keep her from me?”

“If you’d just let me explain. If we could sit down and talk about this. Rationally. If we can just push the anger aside for even just a little bit. I know I have a lot of explaining to do. A lot of apologizing. But if you’d just give me the chance…”

“I can barely even look at you right now. How the hell am I supposed to sit and talk about things RATIONALLY?”

“Once you’ve been able to digest everything. To just calm down even just a little bit. That’s all I’m asking for, Tyler. Just a chance. To explain my side. Please? If not for me, for Millie. Because she deserves to know you. And if you just walk away…”

“I might be pissed, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to walk away. I’m here, yeah? I didn’t take off as soon as I saw you, did I? I stuck around. Do you honestly think I’d leave? After finding out about her? Do you think that little of me?”

“I’ve NEVER thought little of you. EVER. I was the one who believed in you, Tyler. I was the one who took the chance. When no one else would. I was the one who SAW you. The real you. All the rusted and broken parts and everything beautiful that still existed inside of you. Everything we went through…everything you came with…I STILL wanted you.”

“What do you want me to say? Thank you? For not looking at me like everyone else did? Like some huge piece of shit?”

“I want you to realize it isn’t just black and white. Why I left. I know you, Tyler. I know how smart you are. How well you read people. Can you honestly look me in the eye and tell me that I’m lying to you? About how I felt? About what I wanted? About why I left? Can you do that? Look me dead in the eye and tell me you can’t tell I’m being sincere?”

His eyes focus on hers; cold and calculated blue at war with rich, apologetic brown. Despite the hurt and the anger, he still SEES her; his most loyal confidant, biggest cheerleader, the best friend he’s ever had, and the love of his life. It’s all there; the affection and the adoration and the lust. His pride doesn’t want to feel those things; he wants to wallow in his misery and blame her for his trouble out of sheer spite. But it’s impossible.

“No,” Tyler admits. “I can’t.”

“Can we please talk? Later? After all the business stuff is done for the day? I’m not asking for much. Just a chance to explain my side. That’s it.”

He nods in agreement and reaches out once more, skimming his knuckles along her bruised cheek. It’s so conflicting; needing and loving someone that much yet wanting nothing more than to rant, rave, and air your grievances. And he opens his mouth to speak; intending to comfort and offer reassurances that everything -at least in regards to the job- is going to be okay. But is interrupted by Nik suddenly appearing in the doorway; drumming her fingernails against the wood and noisily clearing her throat.

“We need to get the show on the road. Winston’s held the main conference room for us. We’re all going to meet down there. I can give you guys a few more minutes but…”

“We’re done here.” His tone is harsher than he intended, and when he notices her blink and physically recoil, he gives Esme a comforting smile. “At least for now.”

#Tyler and Esme series #Extraction #Extraction 2 #Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction fan fiction #Tyler Rake x OFC #Chris Hemsworth #Tyler Rake fan fic #Extraction fan fic #Chris Hemsworth Extraction

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autumntouched · 2 years

Text

Day 15 of Ode to Phoenix

Summary: Natasha and her college roommate are reunited to be a pain in Hangman's designated driver's ass

Pairings: Potential Jake "Hangman" Seresin x O/C

Warnings: Lots of alcohol consumed

A/N: This is just pure tequila fueled fun. AU Phoenix and Hangman from my other fics. I was playing around with a spy-ish thriller idea where Phoenix's friend is kidnapped in the course of her work, Phoenix and Hangman fly the rescue, but tabled the story. Here's where it started/what's left.

Taz and Laz

It was on another tequila fueled night during college that Taz and Laz were born, the christening of Natasha’s lifelong friendship with her best friend and roommate Layla. But on their current tequila bender, they’ve exchanged their college dorm room for The Hard Deck.

It’s been over a year since they’ve seen one another, but it’s as if no time has passed since they spent nearly every single day together. They’re catching up, dancing and singing along to the jukebox selections, and collapsing into one another with laughter. It feels so good to let loose for both of them.

Laz pulls herself out of Natasha’s arms, wiping the tears of laughter from her cheeks, and waves Penny down for another round.

While they wait, Laz leans her elbow on the bar and looks over toward the pool table. “Taz, I think it’s about time we showed these boys what a real game of pool looks like,” she says.

Natasha looks over and smirks, seeing exactly what caught her friend’s eye. The guys are strutting around the table, leaning into their shots like they're playing a high stakes tournament for money. They’re not as good as they think they look. Laz is ready to step all over some egos.

There’s a lot people probably can’t tell about Laz at first glance. “It’s funny,” she’d once told Natasha, “it often feels like I’m invisible when my hair is curly. But as soon as I straighten it, suddenly everything changes. Makes me a good spy, doesn’t it?” And she’s probably the closest person Natasha knows to a spy. Behind the cat-like almond shaped eyes is a sharp, analytical mind used to assess and track down some of the world’s most elusive cyber terrorist threats. She tells everyone that she works in government relations for a tech company.

Her father retired as a Navy admiral and all night Hangman jumps every time one of the senior officers approaches them, thinking they are about to be reprimanded for their increasingly raucous laughter, only for the captains and admirals to grab Laz into a hug and ask about her family or give her an update on their kids. To his astonishment, and Natasha notes how rare it is to make Hangman’s jaw drop, she doesn’t always bother with ranks.

“Do you know who that was?” he asks stupidly after one of them walks off.

“I changed his four of his children’s diapers for five dollars an hour,” Laz shrugs. “I don’t worry about those things unless I have to.”

Penny arrives, tequila in hand and a warning with her pour. “I’m cutting you off soon, Layla, before I have to answer to your dad tomorrow.”

Laz throws her head back and laughs. “Ms. Benjamin we both know the one you’d really have to answer to is my mom.”

Natasha snorts, in on the joke. Laz’s dad might be the admiral but her mother is the rules and appearances bound stickler.

“It’s ‘Penny’,” Penny reminds her with a fond smile. “You make me feel my age.”

“You know her too?” Hangman demands, looking between them.

“Penny knows what my umbilical cord looked like,” Laz smiles. “Which is why I’m never getting used to calling you by your first name.”

Hangman is along for this ride as their designated driver. There aren’t many places Laz can let her hair down these days, and a Navy bar might be one of them. They’re too old for the shenanigans of their younger years, but Natasha doesn’t plan for either of them to be able to drive by the end of the night.

“Taz,” Laz nods solemnly, holding up her recently filled shot glass.

“Laz,” Natasha salutes. They clink their glasses, touch them to the bar, then throw them back. No lime, salt, or chaser. Laz smacks her lips and checks the pool table again.

“Ready?” she asks, five shots and a moscow mule in.

Natasha grins. “Ready.”

They slide off their bar stools, the alcohol hitting them full force when they finally stand. Natasha sways before she gets her footing.

“Whoa,” giggles Laz, draping her arm over Natasha’s shoulders. With their height difference, it’s something she only accomplishes in the tall heeled boots she’s wearing. “This is gonna be a game.”

For once, Hangman inserts himself as the responsible voice of reason. “Maybe you two should go for a round of water instead of pool.”

Laz juts her pointed chin at him. “They’re going to think we’re drunk. We’re winning this one.”

“Definitely winning,” Natasha giggles.

Hangman looks at her like she’s grown a second head. He’s likely never seen her like this, the carefree happy-go-lucky Taz side of her. Which is ironic, since alone, Laz is far from carefree or happy-go-lucky. She’s one of the most intense people Natasha knows.

Arms draped around one another, Natasha and Laz saunter over to the game. Natasha negotiates their way in, the guys eyeing them for an easy win. Hangman practically slaps his forehead when Laz names their offer.

“Why would you let her do that?” he demands when Laz holds her hand out for the cue stick. “I’m not sure she took a straight step over here.”

Natasha smirks. “Watch this.”

Laz examines the table then hefts the cue stick in her hand. And suddenly, she’s laser focused and steady. She pockets the ball neatly, not an ounce of force wasted. Hangman and the guys look like they’re reassessing the competition.

“Show ‘em what you got, Taz,” Laz cheers when Natasha’s up.

The other thing people can’t tell about Laz at first glance? Her electives in college included viticulture and the mathematical theory of pool, and she had a habit of multitasking her assignments. Natasha was at first her reluctant opponent until, eventually, it became a regular ritual for them. Laz liked to call it “Wine and Balls.”

They crush the game, only a challenge because they’re so far into the tequila. The guys shake their hands with new appreciation and Laz collects. She goes back to the bar for another shot. Instead of returning to where Natasha and Hangman are waiting for her, though, she heads to the bathroom. But she comes back not long after. “There’s a line,” she announces, brow furrowed.

Natasha has an inkling of where this is going. “Laz, you’re too old to do that.” Laz stands quietly for a moment, head tilted. Then shrugs and heads for the patio. “Wait!” Natasha chases her down.

“What’s she doing?” Hangman asks, hurrying to keep up as they dodge patrons in Laz’s marching wake.

They follow her out onto the beach, her figure wobbling into the darkness. She glances over her shoulder once and waves them back toward The Hard Deck.

“Fuck,” Natasha sighs. There’s no point in stopping her now.

In the distance, barely visible from where they’re standing, Laz pauses by a cluster of beach brush. She kicks at the sand with her foot for a few moments. Then kicks at it again. She looks around one last time to make sure Natasha’s the only one watching then crouches out of sight.

She’s gone for maybe a minute before she straightens and wipes her hand on her jeans then across her mouth. Laz kicks at the sand again. She takes a swig of the tequila shot then spits it out. After several rinses, she heads back.

Natasha crosses her arms. “I can’t believe you just did that,” she scolds when Laz is within hearing range. “You have a doctorate degree now.”

Hangman glances down at her. “Did she just boot and rally?”

“Yes.”

“And rinse her mouth with tequila?”

Laz is close enough to hear. “What? Do you have mouthwash, Bagman?” she calls. "Sue me, I'm resourceful."

She manages to get to them without breaking an ankle walking through the sand in her shoes. “I think I’ve got another game in me and then we should probably get food.”

“No, we’re getting food now,” Hangman decides.

Laz looks at Natasha. “Game or food?”

“That wasn’t up for a vote!” Hangman protests.

“If we wanted a babysitter,” Laz complains, “we would have invited Rooster.”

Natasha admires her friend’s ability to be absolutely wasted, only partially informed about Hangman and Rooster’s dynamic, and still fire an absolute bullseye.

“Game,” Natasha agrees smugly, just to mess with him and see what he does.

He reaches into his pocket and fishes out a quarter. “Heads we play pool, tails we play darts,” he offers.

Laz catches her lip with interest. These are the stakes she likes. “Who makes the call?”

“I’ll let you, if you ask nicely,” he suggests.

Natasha does a double take. Is he flirting now? With her best friend?

“Heads,” Laz decides. “Please.”

Hangman flips the coin and palms it onto the back of his hand. They all lean in for the result. He groans and Laz snaps. “Looks like another game of pool, Bagman.”

She loops her arm through Natasha’s and waves for him to follow. “Do you really want to play another game?” Laz whispers as they make their way back to the pool table.

Natasha confesses she did it just to annoy Hangman.

“Oh good,” Laz sighs. “Me too. I want tacos or pho.”

Hangman’s not sure whether to look annoyed or relieved when they announce that they’ve reconsidered and are ready to go.

By the time he pulls up to Natasha’s townhouse after tacos, Laz is passed out across the armrest in the back. To her surprise, he turns off the car and gets out with her.

“I’ve got her,” Natasha promises.

“This is easier.” He opens the door and coaxes Laz awake enough to lift her into his arms. She curls into his chest. "You know, your personality sometimes really gets in the way of how hot you could be. Just saying."

Jake looks stunned, and Natasha snickers. "Maybe something to consider there, dickhead."

He scowls at her. "Geez, Phoenix, do you complain about me to all of your friends?"

"I have an amazing support system," she grins.

She can't wait to tell Laz what way too honest thought fell out of her mouth while drunk. Of course, Laz is the kind of person who wouldn't say anything drunk that she wouldn't be willing to stand by sober. The only difference is how diplomatic she is about it.

Natasha leads the way to her apartment. She throws a sheet and pillow onto the sofa for her friend, knowing that Laz will wake up at some point and get herself ready for bed. Or sleep until the morning and change her clothes then. Hangman sets her down gently.

“Are we home?” Laz murmurs.

“Yeah,” he says quietly.

She struggles to sit up. “My pillowcase,” she mumbles.

“Her what?” he asks Natasha who goes to her bag and rifles around until she finds the satin fabric.

“For her hair,” Natasha explains.

He props Laz up against him while she fixes the pillow for her friend. “Thanks, Jake,” Laz sighs before drifting off to sleep again.

Not that she’ll remember, but it’s suddenly "Jake"? Huh, this could get very interesting. And maybe there are some things her friend won't be willing to stand by in the soberness of the morning.

Ode to Phoenix Masterlist

#ode to phoenix #28 days of phoenix #phoenix fic #natasha phoenix trace fic #natasha trace fic #natasha trace #top gun phoenix #tgm fanfiction #tgm fanfic #tgm fics #hangman x oc

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lilbluespeedster · 2 years

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Marked for Death (Part 1)

*A loud, high pitched sound could be heard in the far distance, followed by a short, but bright purple photon whizzing by only to strike a nearby tree, clearly missing the target that was once there. The sudden excitement was soon replace with an eerie calm, as if someone was waiting for their chance... It would take too long, perhaps merely several minutes, for another purple beam to fire down range, missing it's target yet again as it struck a bush. The only sign of the quarry being the sudden rush of wind from the hedgehog moments prior. That hedgehog seemed to be on the run, heading south to a more secluded and safe location.*

*The hedgehog had merely stopped at this zone's Emerald Hill, merely exploring the uninhabited areas before this happened. He had thought of asking a certain older hedgehog he knew to be his tour guide, but now he was glad he didn't. After all, he would have been put in danger like himself. Same could also be said for Ray, who he also thought about inviting, but he decided against to let him study.*

*But none of that mattered. What mattered was that he needed to get somewhere he would safely zone hop and not be followed. He had an inkling of who was after him, but he didn't want to stop and confirm. Although he would soon get his answer regardless.*

"He's coming your way. Cut him off if you can."

*This was what the other being heard on the other side by what could only be described as robotic, if anyone was nearby to hear it. Too bad as the hedgehog would be zipping past that area soon, only to be greeted with a boulder flying towards him. The smaller hedgehog had to duck and skid to a halt in order to barely dodge the rock. He looked towards where it had come from, only to see a large, robotic, bear-looking construct with red eyes staring him down. The robot appeared to have their fists colored brown with yellow tips on it's fingers, a green band along the upper chest to neck area, and what could only look like a metallic red beanie on top. The rest was a simple, metallic silver. There was no mistaking who this was to the hedgehog, and it only meant bad news for him.*

"And here I thought you two would have been stuck with that madman." *Lil' merely spoke, before charging a spin dash right into the other's chest. The ball of blue seemed to bounce off the hulking construct without so much as taking a scratch as the hedgehog landed.* "Dammit, of course you're built as solid as a tank." *He had just the amount of time to speak before having to jump to the side, dodging a flurry of fists from this being. And soon enough the sound of a distant hum could be heard, which the hedgehog took as the sign to leave and bolted away as a speeder bike of sorts arrived in front of the construct. In the driver's seat seemed to be another robotic figure, this one wearing what could only be described as a metallic cowboy hat and seemed to be colored more purple rather than the normal metallic the other had.*

"Get in, we might still catch him before he builds up to his top speed. And man the turret, the boss wants his head."

*The larger construct simply nodded and got onto the back, manning a complicatedly designed turret as the two sped off in hopes of catching the hedgehog...Maybe...*

#IC #Event | Marked for Death #(I too am starting my event this month)#(However I plan on not finishing this one up until after the holidays)#(So yeah it's gonna be a roller coaster)

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mingtinys · 2 years

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random ateez headcanons

pairing : none specified

general headcanons , fluff , misc

warnings : none

word count : 0.6 k

a/n : i feel like it's been too long since ive posted, so here's some general hcs ive been accumulating for a bit while i finish up a couple requests and fics! essentially , this is the equivalent of a naruto filler episode while i attempt to crank out actual work !!

Kim Hongjoong

likes to body-double. he ends up getting work done super efficiently when someone just sits with him.

really enjoys having meals with others and views it almost as a way to bond and connect with people. basically, this man views quality time as an important aspect of his love language.

has a very strong opinion as to whether or not pineapple belongs on pizza. (spoiler: his answer is no and he's prepared to die on this hill).

Park Seonghwa

does the mom arm thing in the car when the brakes are slammed on suddenly.

quotes along with his favorite scenes when he watches star wars. he's watched the prequels enough times to have the obi-wan and anakin final battle script down pat.

will mindlessly talk or mumble to himself as he cleans and does chores.

Kang Yeosang

the type of friend who sits quietly and by himself at parties / big functions. he looks like he doesn't want to be there but is actually having a very nice time just people-watching and being in the presence of friends.

animals love him, doesn't matter what kind. even the shyest of animals will rub up against him and beg for pets.

regularly tries to slowly close the fridge door just enough to watch the light shut off.

Jeong Yunho

never kills bugs. if he spots a spider or fly or whatever, he will capture it in a cup and release it outside.

usually ends up being the designated driver. he doesn't even have to be convinced and most of the time he volunteers.

sings in the shower. i'm talking full-length, concert-worthy, best performance of his life, type singing in the shower. (and yes, this applies to all hours of the night).

Choi San

is never the first to pull away in a hug. he will stay latched on to whoever it is until they decide to let go. he says it's because you never know how much someone may have needed that hug.

is the friend that doesn't like asking the waiter for extra napkins or condiments, but if everyone else is too scared to ask then he'll step up to the plate.

collects little keep-sakes like movie tickets, receipts, and fortune cookie fortunes.

Song Mingi

the type of guy to pick someone up and spin them around when he gets excited.

knows his voice is deep and it can get scary when he yells, so he rarely raises his voice because he doesn't want to be perceived as intimidating.

stubs his toe on furniture around the dorms. like a lot.

Jung Wooyoung

is actually a really good listener and amazing at reading rooms and people. communication is out of this world.

has memorized his friend's coffee orders and will surprise them with coffee if he knows someone is having a rough day.

puts the empty container of milk back in the fridge after using it all.

Choi Jongho

learned how to recite the alphabet backward when he was younger and often uses it as a party trick (will recite it backward while also breaking apples).

gives really good dating advice even if he himself is single. like 9 times out of 10 he has a solution to any couples dispute.

really really likes fuzzy blankets. he has like ,,, 6 of them and alternates between which he sleeps with.

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seenergylife · 2 years

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postapocalypticcottagecore · 2 years

Text

MISPER

(Hammered this together in a few hours, after being inspired by something I saw in a Markiplier video of all things.)

It was half-past ten on a Monday morning, and Detective Constable Mark Peters was already more than ready for the week to be over and done with. This morning's briefing had included the news that the particularly unpleasant local loan shark that Mark and his team had been building a case against for the last six weeks had done about 80% of the median lethal dose of cocaine, attempted to drive who-knew-where under its influence without the benefit of a seatbelt and ploughed his car through somebody's garden wall at almost a hundred and fifty miles an hour. The last thing to go through his mind, the Collision Investigation Unit believed, had been the steering wheel. While Mark couldn't say he was particularly sorry to see the man in question depart this mortal coil in a spectacular and ignominious fashion, it did bother him on some level that a great deal of hard work and patience on CID's part had been rendered utterly pointless.

Especially because he still had to finish the damn paperwork on it. With a sigh he got up from his desk and made his way to the coffee machine at the back of the office, quietly longing for the days when they were allowed to smoke in here.

And as if his day wasn't already off to a flying start, some bellend had put a wet spoon back in the sugar bowl again. "Fucksake," Mark muttered to himself, searching unsuccessfully for a clean replacement. "Who even does that?"

Eventually, and feeling slightly better for having acquired a fresh cup of coffee, Mark returned to his desk just in time for the phone to go off. "CID office, DC Peters speaking."

"Morning Mark. You busy at the moment?" The voice on the other end of the line belonged to Detective Sergeant Lucy Whittaker, his immediate superior and semi-official mentor within the team.

"When aren't we busy round here? But I'm not doing anything time-sensitive. What's up, sarge?"

"MISPER case just came in, and it's a bit of an odd one. 25 year-old female named Kimberly Hicks, last seen going home from drinks with friends on Friday night, hasn't answered her phone or checked Facebook all weekend and then didn't show up for work this morning."

"Okay," Mark said thoughtfully. "Sounds potentially nasty. What's odd about it?"

"She was last seen getting dropped off by the designated driver and entering her flat, so whatever happened to her took place after she got home."

"Yeah, that is weird. So what do you need me to do?"

"I'm about to talk to the friend who last saw her, but I've got to be in court this afternoon. Can you go to the address and check it out? Uniform are already there, they're trying to gain access."

"Sure. Hold on, let me grab a pen..."

The address proved to be a four-storey block of redbrick flats in a residential neighbourhood just off the ring road, not the poshest part of town but not particularly dodgy either. The building was a lot bigger than average for the area, being mostly surrounded by old terraced houses from around the turn of the last century, and Mark fancied it might have once been a factory or mill. A panda car was parked outside, and a female constable was standing by the main door talking to a woman in a cleaner's tabard. As Mark parked his own car and applied the handbrake the cleaner walked off, looking quite put out.

"DC Peters, CID." Mark presented his warrant card to the other officer, who he didn't recognise. "Who was that?"

"Cleans for our missing person," she replied. "Couldn't tell us anything very helpful, but turns out she gets the spare key from the man in the flat next door. My colleague's talking to him now, I'll get him to buzz us in."

"Thank you. Oh, sorry, you are-?"

"Helen. PC Helen Matthews."

Mark and PC Matthews climbed the three flights of stairs to where Ms Hicks lived. Helen's partner was waiting for them with a middle-aged, slightly scruffy-looking man who Mark presumed to be the neighbour with the keys. He was proven correct when Helen made a quick round of introductions. "Kim definitely came home," explained the neighbour, whose name turned out to be Jack. "I heard the door swing shut, then about an hour later I heard water running -her bathroom and mine are pretty much back to back and it's not a very thick wall- so she probably took a shower and went to bed."

"And you didn't see or hear her at all since?" Mark asked.

"No. That doesn't mean much, I've been on the back shift so we haven't seen much of each other the last couple of weeks, but I did text her yesterday because I was going to the shops and wanted to know if she needed anything. Never got a reply, but I didn't think anything much of that at the time, she mentioned she'd ordered a new phone because her old one was acting up. First I knew that anything was wrong was when Chloe -that's the cleaner- rung me to say the police were here."

Mark nodded. "Alright, thank you. May I have the keys?"

"Sure." Jack handed them over, looking stricken. "Do you think someone has done her harm, Detective?"

"At the moment I don't know," Mark replied gently. "Can you think of anyone who might have a grudge against her, like an ex-partner or a neighbour she'd had a falling out with?"

"Not that she's mentioned to me, no. I know she had a bit of a row with a bloke she was seeing a few weeks ago but it can't have been him, he's been away at sea for the last month."

"Alright, thank you." Mark turned to Helen. "Would you mind getting a statement from him while I check the flat?"

She nodded. "Sure. Once I've done that we'll check with the rest of the neighbours. They were probably all in bed long before half-past eleven but you never know."

"Thanks. Ask them if they saw any unfamiliar faces hanging around too, I know the witness claimed Kim Hicks walked through the main door but you never know." With that, Mark took some rubber gloves out of his pocket and prepared to do some detective work.

The flat's front door had two locks, a Yale and a mortice. Only the Yale proved to be locked when Mark tried them, and he made a mental note to ask Jack about that later: Maybe she only bothered with the second lock when she was going away overnight, or maybe she usually only locked it when she was about to turn in for the night but had forgotten... or been prevented from doing so.

The front door opened into a rather cramped hallway, furnished only with a small table and a coat rack. The coat rack held a fancy-looking rust coloured leather jacket and a more pedestrian green and purple raincoat, and a couple of pairs of shoes were placed neatly underneath it: Some black court heels, ballet flats and a pair of trainers. The hall table had a small glass bowl on it that contained a set of keys, a handful of loose change and a balled-up recipt that proved to be for topping up an electric meter the previous Tuesday. Next to it sat a small red leather handbag, one that to Mark's unpracticed eye looked quite expensive. It was zipped closed, and when he opened it he found a purse and a phone in a leather case, both of which matched the bag. "Miss Hicks likes to colour coordinate, it seems," Mark mused to himself.

The purse held six neatly-folded £20 notes, a single £10 and slightly less than £5 in various coins, along with two bank cards and her driver's license. The phone turned out to be the latest model from Samsung, its screen lacking a single scratch or blemish. Experimentally he tried the power button but got nothing, unsurprising if the thing had been sitting unattended for 48 hours. Mark dutifully placed it in an evidence bag for the forensics team to examine later, then carefully counted and noted down the total amount of money in the purse before placing it in its own bag.

The picture on the driver's license caught his eye as he put it in the bag with the purse. A young woman a couple of younger than himself, short blonde hair with a vivid magenta streak through it, smiling brightly. She looked happy, carefree, friendly.

"Wherever you are, lady, I'll do what I can for you," Mark said quietly, and headed into the rest of the flat.

It was more spacious than he'd expected, with a large kitchen and living room and another door leading to what was probably the bedroom. Most of the living room was taken up by an enormous, battered but comfy-looking sofa with a vividly tie-dyed throw over it, with a small TV and a sound bar perched on a tall mahogany display cabinet full of ornaments: Several colourful china vases, a glass bottle with layers of multi-coloured sand, some rock crystals and for some reason a complete set of Gravity Falls Funko Pops. A poster for some Korean or Japanese pop group Mark had never heard of dominated the wall behind the settee.

But there was nothing damaged or knocked over, and no apparent gaps where some item of value might have been carried off. The place was meticulously tidy, in fact. Mark entered the kitchen and found it much the same. The countertops were cluttered with jars of dried herbs and spices and a wooden block holding some kitchen knives (none of which were missing, he noted) but everything was neatly arranged, and the sink and drying rack were empty. There was a tiny kitchen table in one corner of the room, with an old Macbook and a single mug on a coaster. "Have a cup of Positivi-Tea", the mug read, in a jaunty font and colourful letters.

"That's probably a Class C drug these days," Mark said to himself, tapping the space bar of the laptop on the off-chance it was still logged in. It took him straight to a password prompt, so he decided to leave that to the experts and wondered if he had an evidence bag big enough to hold it. Probably not: The Scenes of Crime Officers would have to deal with it. The mug he did bag up, noticing absently that there was the residue of what seemed to be hot chocolate at the bottom of it. "A quick shower, a night-time cup of cocoa and then... what? Tried to get into bed, accidentally noclipped into the Backrooms? Turns out your mum struck a bargain with the Fair Folk and she's in arrears? 'A bit odd' wasn't saying that half of it-"

Mark suddenly froze in place. Had he just heard a noise? No, not a noise. More like a different kind of silence, the kind where nothing you could consciously hear had changed, but on some subtle frequency that humans only heard at a subconscious level there was something there. Or nothing, and Mark had read enough spooky stories to know that Nothing could be every bit as bad as any number of Somethings...

Just as he was starting to reach for his CS spray, his phone went off, the ringtone seeming definitely loud by contrast. Mark exhaled sharply and leaned against the wall, taking a moment to get his breathing under control before answering it. "DC Peters."

"Mark, it's Lucy. Just got done talking to the witness who last saw our MISPER, but she couldn't tell me much that she hadn't already said to the 999 call-taker. How's it going on your end?"

"Not great," Mark replied, and briefly recounted what he'd found out from the neighbour. "I'm still going through the place but so far I'm drawing a blank," he admitted. "Do we have a description of what Kim Hicks was wearing on Friday night?"

[/i]"Black minidress and tights, ballet flats, red leather jacket with a matching handbag."[/i]

"Well, I can confirm she made it back into the flat then. Found the jacket, the handbag and probably the shoes in the hall. And there was over a hundred and thirty quid in cash and a phone that probably cost another three hundred in the bag, so whatever happened to her it wasn't a robbery. I haven't checked the bedroom or bathroom yet but so far I'm seeing absolutely no sign of forced entry or any sort of disturbance: Wish I had the spoons to keep my place this tidy, in fact. Oh, and do we know anything about this ex-boyfriend her neighbour mentioned?"

"Enough to establish his alibi. Carl Henderson, age 26, currently working as a steward on a P&O cruise ship that left Southampton three weeks ago. And sent about fifty quid's worth of flowers and an apparently very heartfelt letter of apology for losing his temper just before departure, or so our witness informs me. Not sure how we're going to handle him yet, maybe we can get the company to put him on a flight home."

"Sounds a bit risky, but if he does a runner before boarding then we'll know we're on the right track, I suppose. Anyway, I'm going to finish checking this place over but I think we'll have to get SOCO out here. If Kim was attacked then it must have been someone she knew well enough to let in."

"Or someone she trusted with a spare key, maybe? When you're done with the flat I suggest you have another, longer talk with that neighbour. In the meantime, SOCO are more likely to show up before the next shift if the request comes from a DS than a DC so I'll get on to them. Call me back if you turn up anything useful."

"Will do. Bye." Mark pocketed his phone, pondering the possibility that Jack might have had something to do with it. He hadn't really given off a stalker vibe at the time, but if you could tell that sort of thing just by looking then he'd have a lot less work to do, wouldn't he? Although when asked about anyone who might have a grudge, he'd brought up the query-former boyfriend Kim had a falling-out with and then explicitly stated that the guy had an alibi, odd behaviour for someone who was trying to deflect suspicion away from himself...

Well, one problem at a time. Check the rest of the flat first, then start questioning persons of interest in a crime that he couldn't yet prove had even taken place at all.

On impulse, Mark went back to the hallway and opened the bathroom door first. There was nothing especially remarkable within: A shower cubicle, a sink, a toilet and a heated towel rail. The bath mat was a vivid shade of pink that Mark would definitely not have wanted to be confronted with first thing in the morning himself, and the mirrored cabinet screwed to the wall over the sink had been decorated with rainbow-hued stickers. "I've seen romcoms with girls like you in them," Mark quipped, with a bleak little laugh. He opened the cabinet to check for any prescription medication that might indicate some sort of mental health episode: You would think that would have been mentioned with the concerned friends by now, but if she was doing well enough to hold down a job as long as she didn't forget her hallucinate-that-you're-totally-sane juice two days in a row then maybe they didn't know themselves...

But there were no medicines in the cabinet besides birth control pills, some paracetamol and a nearly empty and long-expired foil packet of something called Omeprazole, which a quick search with his phone revealed to be an anti-inflammatory used for treating conditions like heartburn or acid reflux. No antidepressants, no antipsychotics, not even any anti_biotics_...

That was a thought, wasn't it? Mark replaced everything in the medicine cabinet and started typing on his phone, intending to look up some specific medical information. Schizophrenic symptoms usually came on in the first half of your twenties, he recalled from somewhere, so she'd be just within the right age range. Or it could be something like what had happened to a woman he'd run across while on foot patrol a year out of his probation, stammering and confused and trying to speak to people only she could see: Urinary tract infection, the paramedics had said it was. Better take that up with DS Whittaker when she got here-

And then it came again, that sound that wasn't a sound. This time the change was abrupt enough to send Mark spinning on his heel with his CS spray out and at the ready, convinced he'd seen a flash of something in the mirror... But there was nothing there except the empty hallway. "Bloody hell," Mark hissed through his teeth, lowering the spray-can and forcing himself to breathe slowly. "What is it with this place?" He peered suspiciously at the raincoat that was hanging up there, wondering if it had moved slightly in some draught he hadn't noticed until now. Must have been something like that, he decided. And old buildings like this made weird noises all the time...

As if on cue, there came a loud sound of rushing water as a toilet flushed, probably the one on the other side of the bathroom wall. Jack clearly hadn't been exaggerating about how thin it was, which suggested that he hadn't needed to deliberately listen out for the sound of Kim taking a shower. Another small point in favour of him being on the up and up, perhaps.

"Right, then," Mark said to himself. "One more room left to check. And I think I'm laying off the horror podcasts for a bit after today."

The bedroom was pretty small, and a bit on the crowded side. An enormous oak wardrobe with a slightly Gothic design and a vaguely threatening aura took up most of one corner: If he'd been playing a videogame, Mark reflected, he'd expect that thing to either have some really good loot or be the source of an incredibly cheap jumpscare. Most of the remaining floor space was taken up by a double bed covered with -he was starting to sense a theme here- a vividly coloured tie-dye blanket and more multicoloured pillows than could possibly be necessary. A radio and a small lamp with a bright pink shade stood on a small bedside table, and it took Mark a second to notice that the radio was still on, the volume just barely above muted. Did Kim Hicks just have sensitive hearing and prefer to keep the volume this low when using the radio as a sleep aid, he wondered, or had she reached out and turned it down because she thought she'd heard something in the night?

The bedroom window was slightly open. Being careful not to touch it anywhere someone trying to push it from the outside might put their hands, Mark pulled it inwards as far as it would go. It stopped after perhaps ten centimetres, arrested by some mechanism in the frame. Nobody could have got in or out that way, not without causing obvious damage to the window itself. And he'd like to see anyone try forcing it open one-handed while clinging to a drainpipe and not break their fool neck in the attempt, let alone somehow not make so much noise that the occupant of the room would wake up and either scream the place down or club the intruder upside the head with something...

"I wonder," Mark said to himself. He glanced at the drawer in the nightstand, but decided the sort of thing a woman might keep in there was unlikely to be germane to the investigation or anything she'd thank him for fiddling with and instead knelt down to look under the bed. Two objects down there immediately struck him as very suspicious. The first was an empty glass lying on its side as if it had been knocked off the nightstand and simply left there, which was thoroughly out of character given how neatly-kept the rest of the property was. The second, much more alarming object was a very large utility knife pulled part of the way out of its sheath. From the angle at which it was lying and the dstance relative to the bed, Mark could see no way it had landed where it was unless someone had dropped it while they were standing up in the middle of the room.

"She heard something," he said aloud, taking another evidence bag out of his pocket for the knife. "She heard something in the night, and she grabbed the knife and got up and..." He trailed off. And then what? And then somehow someone instantly and completely subdued Kim Hicks before she could even fully pull it out, then carried her off into the night without anyone seeing or hearing a single thing? It didn't seem possible-

And there it came again. The shift in the silence, the feeling that there was something there, listening for you the way you were desperately listening for it... And this time it was accompanied by a faint but very real and identifiable sound. The faint squeaking of the hinges as the door betwwen the hallway and the living room swung open.

Something in Mark snapped, and he yanked his telescoping baton out of its belt pouch. Whatever the hell was going on here, he decided, had been going on for more than long enough. He kicked open the bedroom door and snapped open the baton, bringing it up ready to strike. "Police!" he yelled. "Stay where you are and-!"

And then DC Mark Peters learned exactly what had happened to Kimberly Hicks. The hard way.

"I've tried three times," PC Matthews told DS Whittaker. "No answer from the intercom or his radio. Anything from his phone?"

"Nothing," Lucy replied. "Something's wrong. Get someone to buzz us in, and if nobody answers we're breaking it down." She keyed her own radio set. "November Oscar, DS Whittaker. Urgent assistance to my location, officer believed in danger!"

By the time they got the door open, three patrol cars had reached the address. One of them was carrying an Enforcer ram, better known to its users as "the big red key". It broke down the flat's internal door without difficulty and the officers poured in. They found the property completely deserted, with no sign of a struggle or any other forced entry beside their own. The Scenes Of Crime Officers meticulously searched for any fingerprints or DNA traces and found only those that which belonged to Kimberly Hicks. Her phone and laptop were minutely examined, along with her social media accounts and internet history, and so far as can be determined she had last used her laptop shortly before midnight on the night she was last seen. Nothing about the message traffic or other activity indicated that anything was out of the ordinary.

The last movements of Detective Constable Mark Peters before his disappearance are even less clear. His phone and police radio were never found, and so far as can be determined they were both abruptly and simultaneously powered off less than fifteen minutes after his last contact with DS Whittaker and have never been reactivated. The last verifiable activity on his phone was a pair of internet searches, one for "Omeprazole" (likely identifying some leftover medication that was prescribed to Ms Hicks some eighteen months earlier) and another for "medical conditions likely to cause delerium". No attempts have been made to access his bank account, email or social media since his disappearance.

Other than various items he had placed in evidence bags during his search of the property (none of which ended up providing any insights into the case), the only item DC Peters left behind was his telescoping baton. It was found lying on the living room floor, extended and ready for use. It yielded no fingerprints save its owner's, and no blood or skin cell residue: So far as could be determined, it was never used.

Both missing persons cases remain unsolved.

#fiction #short story #horror

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elizabethrobertajones · 2 years

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Oooooh Frog has one pink eye and hair that grows in pink because Azem was a ridiculous pink person back in ze day. I have had a Revelation. An Echo Vision of mine own into their deal :'D

Mostly this just means I have a better grasp on poor Emet-Selch, respectable serious white haired anime man being followed around by perpetually giggling lavender-haired Hyth, and freewheeling pink Azem who is rapidly turning into drunk-girl-in-a-bathroom-goes-on-a-D&D-adventure-textpost made flesh in my imagination.

Ancients aren't asking what he sees in them, they're asking what THEY see in HIM.

#answer: he can fly so he's the designated driver #...#since i play a roe I'm fairly on the line that we have to remember Azem isn't Your WoL But Big #mostly because my WoL already is big XD #I don't want them to be too much like Frog #she is fairly self-serious and easily flustered and radiates natural heroism #none of which are traits I get from how people talk about Azem who knew them #Azem sounds like a hot mess and I love it #I mean yes they invented being a hero but it sounds like a much more fun take on the concept #like some sort of instinctive urge they barely understood themselves they just got propelled into it #Frog Chose This and is determined to do it well and studies up #(she started as an arcanist she is still doing Nerd Stuff even learning swordwork :P)#ffxiv #endwalker spoilers

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yourmidnightlover · 4 years

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never go back

Summary: spencer notices how your boyfriend takes advantage of you and finally does something about it.

TW: titty sucking, oral (female receiving), cheating, dom!spencer, scratching, slapping (only one), cursing, choking, spencer dirty talk lol, penetrative sex, creampie. *let me know if i missed anything*

WC: 3,724

A/N - i'm using noah as the 'other man' schtick in probably all of my future one shots bc i can't find it within myself to create a new character each and every time. so your douche of a bf will always be noah miller. if you ever get a nice bf i'll be sure to change his name but for now this is what we're working with. got it? got it.

masterlist

-------------------------------

there are many things that people should go back to. schooling, maybe an old job, an old vacation spot.

your boyfriend was not one of those things.

mostly because your boyfriend sucked.

it was now a fact that spencer reid himself had come to believe quite a while ago and now, well now he had reason.

he had always felt as though you were too good for noah, similar for practically anyone in existence (himself included). he was always a complete ass to you no matter the circumstance.

there was one time the entire team had been back really late from a case that took a toll on all of you. it was emotionally and physically draining. the flight back had been delayed because of weather issues in the state you had been in, meaning you couldn't leave until days after it was solved.

any time you had gone to answer the phone, spencer would be able to see your stance and body language through the glass window. you had been apologizing for something you couldn't even control. you would narrow your brows the way you only did when you were being yelled at. you bit your lip the way you did when you were being made to feel guilty.

he was guilt tripping you for something you couldn't even control.

when you had gotten back it wasn't any better. noah had been giving you the cold shoulder. he was defensive when you asked what was wrong.

and that was only 3 weeks into the relationship.

after being together for 2 months, you had gotten flowers delivered on your desk. you assumed they were from your boyfriend, reasonably so, and went to go thank him. spencer saw the shock in your eyes when you saw your boyfriend huddled in the corner with some new intern. spencer saw the look in your eye change from sadness to anger in the blink of his own.

you took a deep breath, and walked away from the situation, completely missing the way he tucked the intern's hair behind her ear as he leaned in to whisper something to make her giggle. when you got back to your desk you threw the flowers in the garbage can, not even bothering to read the note.

it was pretty indirect, but looking into it he realized it was an issue that should've been addressed. every time the team would go out together, everyone was clearly invited. you would always decline because 'noah wanted to take me out tonight' or 'noah said he needs me, so i'll have to rain check'.

it wasn't because you were a bad person, the opposite actually. it was because noah was taking advantage of your kindness.

because any time you needed him, 'noah's out with the boys' or 'noah had to work late' or, here's a kicker, 'noah had a hard time at work'. as if you don't have a hard time looking at dead bodies while he just has to write up reports.

even when you got injured during a case, shot in the shoulder, noah seemed as though he couldn't have cared less. he wouldn't even go to your apartment to visit you while you were in recovery because 'noah didn't have time to visit'.

spencer could even recall when you went out with the girls one night, spencer being the designated driver, that you had told them how 'noah didn't want you to dress too provocatively so you had to wear something more modest'.

now, spencer doesn't care all to much about what you wear because, frankly, it's none of his business. but now that he heard how noah cared oh-so-much, he decided to wrack his brain for the 'provocative' outfits you've worn. there was not a single one that anyone should make a comment about. you looked stunning no matter what you wore, so you'd grab any man's attention no matter the clothing on your body.

but spencer? he made sure to never be that much of an asshole to you. he made sure to make up for him being an asshole.

he would grab you some morning coffee like you always had before you had a boyfriend. he would make sure to tell you that you looked lovely when you were able to go out with the team. he would visit you when you injured yourself and were lonely, he even stayed back for a few days with you to help you get through it.

hell, he was the one to get you the flowers. you had been having a rough week and spencer thought it might cheer you up. he had gifted you a bouquet of 12, blue chiffon flowers because those were your favorite.

but this was his breaking point. you had come to his apartment, once again in the middle of the night, talking about noah fucking miller cheating on you.

he had done it once before when he was 'out with the boys' you decided to stop by when he said he'd be back, wanting to just be the amazing girlfriend that you are. so when you walk in and hear your boyfriend moaning along with another woman that isn't you, you immediately run back out. you run back out and drive all the way to spencer's.

and here you are again. spencer wasn't mad at you, it was noah he was mad at. he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

spencer had always liked you, no, he's always loved you. everything about you. how could he not? you're perfect.

but loving you how he does and seeing you being used as a toy to fuck for a certain noah miller not only made his heart ache but also made his blood boil.

spencer wasn't an idiot. he had heard the way the old morgan had referred to women. the thing is, noah is way more of a fuckboy than the old morgan ever was. and that scared spencer to pieces. he knew that you would only be missing out on team outings just to get fucked by a douchebag. he knew that the only reason said douchebag wouldn't visit you was because you couldn't fuck. he knew that the reason said douchebag was cornering that intern was to fuck her, too.

so when you arrived at spencer's place, this time you weren't crying. you were furious. you were angry and upset, as was spencer.

"he did it again, spence," you breathed out as you paced across his living room floor. "i was supposed to meet him in a few hours but i was going to surprise him and i caught him with another tramp! i didn't even confront him. i just- i just left!"

"cheated? noah?" he asked as if he didn't believe it at first, not wanting to seem like as much of a dick as noah.

"yes! cheated. god! i am so ANGRY!" you ran your hand through your hair, a grunt leaving your mouth. "and... and frustrated! and... UGH!" you sighed aggressively.

"and what?" spencer asked as he stood up, slowly making his way to you. "what else?" he said, his hand now brushing that stubborn strand of hair behind your ear.

"i-i'm..." you trailed off, getting lost in his beautiful eyes.

if you were honest with yourself, you'd admit how much you loved spencer. but you thought he'd never love you like that. not since you helped him through jj getting married. he really thought she was it for him, at least that's what you'd come to think he believed. over the years you had grown so much closer and grown such an attraction for each other that the other person knew about. it was ironic, truly.

"say it, y/n," spencer leaned over you, his lips ghosting over yours. "i need to hear you say it."

"god, just kiss me," you said, your hands flying to the back of his hair to push his mouth to yours.

there was no hesitation from spencer to give you everything he had. his hand on the side of your face remained there as his other hand drifted to your waist to pull you closer to his body. your tongues met fervently with covetous, passion, and longing yet with just gentle firmness that felt protecting and as if it was how everything was supposed to be.

"please, spencer," you quietly whispered once you unlatched from one another.

"please what, princess," he asked, his hand running through your hair.

"i just... i need you," she pleaded with him, her hands still tugging gently on his hair. "please," you put your foreheads together, breathing in each others air as you silently begged him to help you in any way that he could.

"i'd do anything for you," he whispered so delicately as if the entire team were standing right beside you. "you know i'd do anything for you."

"then do something," you demanded.

spencer took action by kissing you just as intensely as before, this time his hands went to your ass. he grabbed your thighs to signal for you to jump, once you did you wrapped your legs around his torso as he carried you into his bedroom. he set you down just in front of the bed before you began to undo his shirt, him returning the favor by undoing yours.

"god, i've wanted you for so long," he growled, nipping gently at your earlobe as he laid you back on the bed. "lift your hips," he ordered, you obeyed his every command. you always would. "good girl," he praised as he ran his hands down your now bare waist.

"please," you begged, your hips bucking up to get any source of friction. "spencer..." you trailed off.

"i know, princess. i know," he said before climbing on top of you, connecting your lips with his once again, this time much more eager than before if that were possible.

as you arched your back, he took the opportunity to unclasp the hook on your bra. you shrugged it off your shoulders to allow him to throw the bra somewhere else in his room. he finally took a breath, removing his lips from yours to admire the view in front of him.

"god, you're so beautiful," he growled before placing gentle but eager kisses along the tops of your breasts, massaging the one his mouth wasn't on.

he pressed his knee between your legs, allowing you to buck your hips up to get that release you wanted so bad. you whined as he took your nipple in his mouth, his tongue flicking past it rapidly as he occasionally nibbled on it gently.

"spen-spencer," you ran your hands through his hair, tugging gently on the roots.

"mmm," he sat his head up, trailed kisses up your throat. "god, i love you so much."

"i-i love you," you moaned, pulling his head up to connect your lips together. "i love you so so much."

"i'm so glad to hear that," he huffed a sigh of relief. "because otherwise it'd be awkward when i did this," he began trailing kisses down your body, leading down towards your center. "i'll show you what it's like to be with a man that actually loves and respects you, yea? show you what it feels like to actually be pleased by a man? what it's like to be with a real man?" he teased.

his fingers trailed around your entrance, gathering your arousal that'd been building for what felt like ages. he pressed gentle kisses around your pussy before finally connecting his lips with your clit, a low groan emitting from your body because of the contact.

"yes, please," you shot your head back, relishing in the feeling of the direct skin contact.

"hey," spencer slapped your thigh, your head shot back up to see him between your legs, a truly beautiful sight that you'd never get tired of. "eyes on me," he demanded before going back down on you, not breaking eye contact as he brought out sounds from you that you weren't even sure you could make. "talk to me, princess. let me know how it feels."

"fe-feels so good," you sighed, taking your breasts in your hands and massaging them. "i-i can-can't even think," you stuttered out, too caught up in the pleasure to form a coherent sentence.

you had felt so good as he sucked on your clit, succeeding in bringing you closer to the edge than noah ever has, but when he inserted two fingers into your entrance...

"oh my fuck!" your hands shot down to grab onto his locks, pushing him further into your body, a low groan leaving him.

his fingers didn't stop their work. he curled them at just the right spot, sending you flying over the edge. spencer used his free hand to grab onto your thigh to keep them from closing in completely on his head, still working you through your high. he placed a kiss on your clit once more before he brought his head up to you, connecting your lips passionately.

"could noah ever make you come like that? huh? could he make you feel so good you could barely even think?" he grabbed your chin in his hands, holding it in place to look at him as you shook your head the best you could. "no?"

"mm-mm," you tried to shake your head 'no' once more.

"did you think of him while i was going down on you? were you thinking about how he fucked that little tramp?" he asked harshly, you shook your head 'no' again. "oh, what were you thinking, princess?" he finally released your face so you could speak.

"ab-about how well you know my body. about how, how good you looked between my legs. about how much i love you," you replied quickly, knowing exactly what to say.

"right answer," he connected your lips once more. "what do you want, love?" he asked, peppering soft kisses along your jaw where his hands once held your throat firmly.

"you. i-i want you in-inside me," you swallowed, your hand finding his and pulling it up to your lips to press a kiss to it, then another, then another, then another. "please, doctor?" you used your best puppy dog eyes you knew he couldn't resist.

"god, call me that again," he rasped lowly.

"what... doctor?" you took his hand and started sucking on his fingers, letting them slip in and out slowly and then moving onto the next.

"fuck, yes," he growled as he pressed another kiss to your lips before lining himself up at your center. "are you sure, princess?" he traced your jaw with the fingers you were previously sucking on.

"yes, sir," you nodded. "i'm sure."

you felt him slowly push inside of you slowly to allow you to adjust to his size. you had your suspicions of how big he was, but feeling him inside of you made it all much more real.

"fuck, you're so tight," he moaned into your ear quietly as he slowly pulled back out, going in just as slow.

"sp-spence-"

"wrong," he slapped your face gently, a whimper leaving your lips before he grasped your face to make you look him in the eyes.

"doc-doctor," you corrected yourself.

"good girl," he said, feeling your pussy clench from the praise. "oh you like that?" he felt it again. "maybe you just like hearing me talk, yea?" his pace began picking up slowly. "you like hearing how this pussy makes me feel? how tight... and warm... and wet it is?"

"u--uh huh," you nodded your head the best you could as he began thrusting much more rapid, hitting that special spot inside of you with each movement.

"it seems like you haven't felt this good in a long time huh? haven't had your pussy pounded like this in a while?" he asked as he was catching his breath.

"ne-never, doctor," you confirmed, hands reaching around his back and dragging your nails down, surely leaving scratch marks all down them.

"fuck," he growled. "noah never made you feel this good princess? never made you forget how to speak in sentences? never knew how to get you going like this?"

"n-no, no! never! god, never!" you cried as you pulled his body even closer to you. "i-i'm close, please!"

"you wanna come all over my dick, yea? you want to show me how much your pussy loves it when a real man fucks it?"

that was it to let that spring burst inside of you, parts flying everywhere. you cried his name as he worked you through your orgasm, holding onto his shoulders and hair to keep you grounded.

"cum inside me, please," you begged. "fi-fill me up."

"fuck, whatever you want, princess," he kept pounding into you at a rapid pace. "god, i'm gonna come inside you, and send you back to that scumbag of a boyfriend so he can see that you're mine now. so he can see what happens when his girlfriend is mistreated and fucked by someone who knows what they're doing, yea?"

"yea, yea!" you whined, nails digging back into his skin as he released his load into you, thrusting it gently back inside after.

"god, i love you so much," he moaned into your ear, pressing a kiss to your cheek by your ear.

"i love you," you replied, stroking his hair to help him come down, him still inside of you. he began thrusting inside of you once again.

"don't want any of it to spill out before you get to him," he felt you clench around him one more time. "you're very responsive, princess. i like that about you."

"it-it's just you, spence. it's always been you," you pulled him in for another kiss.

this one was full of passion but not the kind of eagerness. it was full of desire and longing, pent up emotions flowing out into one another fluidly.

"now let me go see my soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend," you huffed as he pulled out of you, wincing from the overstimulation. "i'll see you later?"

"i'll see you later," he pressed a kiss to your forehead before helping you gather your clothes.

driving back to his apartment, you felt rather giddy with yourself. should you have felt bad? absolutely not. he's a manipulative asshole who's used you for sex on numerous occasions, so he deserved the bittersweet irony of what was coming to him.

*get it, coming to him? lol i'm sorry i had to :)*

you knocked on the door softly, greeted by a rather chipper noah who grabbed your face as soon as he saw you, connecting your lips. his kiss was nothing like spencer's. his lips weren't as soft and tentative. they weren't plump and round, they were harsh and rough and unpleasant.

he quickly led you to the bedroom, not to your surprise. he sat down on the bed, you straddled his hips, acting as if it were spencer instead - which was pretty hard to do after knowing what he was like in the sack.

you felt his boner through his pants quickly after you got on top of him. then when he flipped you over and pulled your pants and underwear down, he was met with a surprise.

"someone's excited to see me," he chuckled before licking a thick stripe from your slit to clit, very aggressive to where it almost hurt to have the pressure. "god you taste so good, doll."

he continued at this for a while, inserting his tongue to your hole very once in a while and licking up yours and spencer's arousal with it. you faked your moans and whimpers as his ministrations became more eager, not really getting you anywhere.

after he was finished with your turn - no, he didn't even make you cum - he laid back on the bed as if he were waiting for you to get on top of him again.

"actually," you stood up from the bed, pulling up your clothes with you. "i'm done with this. we're over."

you watched his face as he took in the information just released to him. it changed from surprised and shocked, to confused, to disgusted, to angry and frustrated.

"what the fuck?" he sat up from the bed, a disgruntled look on his face. "you wait until after you cum to tell me this?" he walked over to you, arms flailing in the air.

"yea. i did. and by the way, i didn't cum," you informed him. "that's something you've never really been good at making me do. although i'm not sure how you've been able to convince me to do anything with the way you treat me."

"what do you mean? i'm a good gu-"

"shut up for one second, please," you rolled your eyes, running your hand through your hair. "i know you've cheated on me numerable times. i stayed because i thought that maybe there was a reason, but i've come to realize that i was just... settling with you," you shrugged.

"you've treated me like crap since this 'relationship' started and i'm tired of it. i know someone who not only treats me with respect and kindness, but can also actually make me cum. shocker," you chuckled.

"who is this asshole? what the hell-"

"i wasn't finished, sweetie," you spat out viciously. "he's not an asshole. you're the asshole. you're the one that's getting dumped. so this is goodbye," you turned around to walk out of his room before leaving him with one more thought. "how did his cum taste with mine?" you tilted your head innocently, smiling at his shocked face as he realized what you meant before walking out.

and you were never more glad that you didn't have to go back to him anymore.

taglist:

@muffin-cup @greenprisca @averyhotchner

#dom!spencer #smut #spencer x you #spencer x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #cheating

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tarosin · 3 years

Text

The great adventures of y/n tommy tubbo and jack - using tanks to battle

requested: yes/no

this is part 11 to the great adventures series

it was now 5 am you had been on facetime with ranboo since he started streaming at 10 pm neither of you was going to sleep anytime soon

“isn’t it like 5 am for you”

“trying to get rid of me then”

“no no no soon enough I’m going to be stuck with you pretty much 24/7”

“heh? aren’t you staying with tubbo when you come to the UK?”

you watched his face turn red thinking that he had said something that he wasn’t supposed to tell you it was only when he looked up to see you with your head tilted he realised you weren’t aware of what was going to happen in the following weeks

“I will tackle you in the middle of the airport if you don’t tell me what you tubbo and lani mean when you all make comments about me constantly being around yous”

“I cannot wait to see you try”

“I'm blocking you”

hours passed and it was now time for you to get ready to go meet the others you left your phone on your bed whilst you went to get ready by the time you returned ranboo had fallen asleep

“goodnight boo not long now till you’re in the UK, you’re asleep I’m talking to myself goodnight”

since your parents had to go to work they offered to drop you off on the way, the journey to meet the others was pretty uneventful you just spent the time talking about how streaming was going and future plans. that was until your parents mentioned ranboo was flying over soon

“your friend is flying over soon right?”

“ranboo oh yeah yeah he gets here on 26th as far as I’m aware i’m going to tackle him in the middle of the airport”

“great great you’re going with tubbo to meet him, do you know how long you’re going to be out”

“..no why? shouldn’t be too long”

“don’t worry about it darling we’re here now oh look here comes tubbo”

as soon as the car stopped you laughed as you noticed in the corner of your eye tubbo running towards the car you said your goodbyes as you got out of the car and was instantly pulled away by tubbo

“oh oh okay tubbo I think I can walk on my own bud”

tubbo completely ignored every word you had just said and continued leading the way to the others where you were met by Tommy shouting about tanks and jack pretending not to know Tommy.

the four of you went to get ready, a simple enough task or so you thought as when you looked up you noticed Tommy was putting the outfit on the wrong way around

“Are you sure it’s safe for Tommy to drive a tank..”

“help me then”

“no”

a few minutes later the four of you were now equipped with your rather baggy army uniform safe to say if it started to rain you'd have to deal with getting wet as if you put the hood up it would cover your eyes taking away your eyesight which is unsurprisingly important since you were about to drive a tank for the first time. as soon as you all thought you were ready to go to the tanks tubbo announced that although it’s a bad time he needs to go to the toilet

“he’s fucking waddling”

“y/n be nice to your best friend”

you stood laughing to yourself as Tommy was arguing with Jack about how he’s your best friend, not tubbo.

“believe it or not I’m their best friend”

“elaborate on that”

“no”

“i’d argue ranboos their best friend”

halfway through their ‘argument’ tubbo came back and rested his head on your shoulder making you jump

“you're so tiny”

“I beg your pardon tubso”

the worker came over taking you all to the tank you would be driving putting Tommy and jacks argument on hold, for the time being, you were honestly so excited to drive a tank but you were also nervous as you weren’t exactly a great driver

“y/n doesn’t have a license can I get out the tank when it’s their turn”

“you crashed your parents' car fuck off”

before you all got in you were informed that the tank wasn’t designed to take you on adventures so you were probably going to get injured

“great cant wait in you go Tommy”

Tommy got in first followed by you then tubbo and jack

“draw me like one of your beautiful tank girls”

“I failed GCSE art”

“HOW”

“that my friend is a story for another night”

now this tank wasn’t designed so three of you could look out from the top of the tank so you did what every sensible person would do in a tank…you sat on the floor next to tubbo whilst he annoyed jack by touching his face

“y/n you okay down there”

“having the time of my life”

you could hear Tommy revving the tank and from then you could just tell you were going to leave the tank covered in bruises. you sat talking to tubbo and jack who were talking louder than usual just so you could join in the conversation. not seeing what was happening made the tank ride interesting, to say the least. one minute you were messing with tubbos shoelaces the next minute you heard three boys yelling that there was a cow in the middle of the road. it was now tubbos turn to drive and rather than letting you stay with the others he dragged you with him

“you’re driving next may as well stay with me”

“Please don’t crash I will get injured”

“to be fair y/n I didn’t plan on it”

you sat near tubbo watching him drive the tank occasionally yelling words of encouragement at him for your own entertainment and totally not to your surprise he was actually doing a decent job, he didn’t crash, the tank was going quicker and the ride wasn’t as bumpy then tubbo stalled, you could hear Tommy and jack yelling at tubbo to do more killing. you laughed as tubbo would look at the worker then at you not knowing what to do

“Are you ready to drive y/n”

“I guess so”

you and tubbo swapped places and you began to drive like your good friend tubbo you were decent at driving as you managed to pick up some speed along with many comments from jack and Tommy about how bumpy the ride was alongside tubbo yelling at you that you were going to be responsible for the bruises on his arms and legs

“tubbo stop being dramatic it’s not my fault the road is bumpy”

“Y/N I'M NOT”

“Okay then you’re responsible for the bruises on my arms and legs because you decided to stall”

It was now jacks turn you sat next to tubbo where you and Tommy argued that you didn’t like how Minecraft split the caves and cliffs update into two parts

“IT SAID CAVES AND CLIFFS UPDATE AND IT DIDN'T ADD CAVES AND CLIFFS UPDATE”

“you're such a tory y/n agrees with me”

“NO I DON'T I WANTED TO EXPLORE PRETTY CAVES NOT GET CHUCKED OFF OF A CLIFF BY A GOAT”

the three of you continued arguing your points before jack interrupted you all

“we’re talking about the new Minecraft update…because it was you we weren’t really paying attention”

“I DROVE BETTER THAN ALL THREE OF YOU”

“but no you didn’t”

“YOU'RE A PRICK MANIFOLD”

before Jack could answer Tommy began ranting about the update again before being once again interrupted by jack telling him you were about to shoot things and then go up against a tank that was miles better than the one you were all in, the one thing they didn’t know is you would be going with the boss against them just so you could actually have a role in the mini battle rather than just sitting there. you stood shaking your head as Tommy and tubbo made jokes about the balls you were all given

“say it”

“I like balls”

“jack they’re talking about balls…again”

Tommy was first to shoot whilst you and tubbo stood telling jack that the two of you would be the reason you win the battle against the boss, jack went up next and you both were telling Tommy that you weren’t scared of the boss after the last bit of practice you all went back to reception with the worker where he announced the roles you were all going to have

“so my aimer loader and driver”

“Are we allowed to ram tanks”

“no”

jack was the first to realise you hadn’t received a role for the fight against the boss and spoke up about it making tubbo and Tommy realise you did in fact not receive a role

“wait what about y/n they didn’t receive a role”

the worker just nodded at the four of you confusing the hell out of the others while you stood looking around the room to avoid laughing, you didn’t want the others to know so said you’d be back later you just needed to go to the bathroom. rather than going to the bathroom you went off to meet the boss before the others and decided what role you were going to have.

after discussing what role you were going to have the pair of you went back to meet the worker to let him know you have a plan

“LOOK ITS THE BOSS”

“…and y/n”

“oh now we’re losing”

the worker went up to their table to create a plan, once you watched the worker walk away you made your way over to the table they moved to where Tommy was having a ‘date’ with a mannequin

“Woah am I interrupting something”

“I'm on a date y/n”

“y/n you really had to leave me with tubbo and Tommy”

you whispered that you were sorry so Tommy and tubbo couldn’t hear then turned your attention back towards Tommy’s date which wasn’t going very well as Tommy accidentally pulled the wig off of one of the mannequins only to find out that his ‘date’ was also wearing a wig.

it was now time for the battle clearly best friends think alike as you and tubbo both had the role of driver. you and the boss made a strong team and you surprisingly got along well with each other which made teamwork easy making you more of a challenge for Tommy’s team

“yooo this is amazing”

“you’re doing great y/n”

as soon as the boss made the final shot you cheered

“do you think we won then y/n”

“I'm not sure they did put up a good fight”

“come on let’s head back so you can be with your friends again”

the pair of you made it back after thanking him you ran to tubbo, who for some reason was on the floor, and tackled him into a hug before sitting next to him

“AH FUCK”

“HI TUBSO WHY ARE YOU IN THE MUD”

“BECAUSE WE WON”

“mhm sure”

“What role did you have y/n”

“driver”

“NO WAY ME TOO”

your celebration was short-lived as Tommy decided to chuck mud at the pair of you yelling catch when it was far too late to react, you both looked at each other nodded at chucked mud back at him and jack

“ayo we hit him”

after playing in the mud with tubbo for a while jack called you both over to hear the scores and find out who won

“Why do you both have smiley faces on your face”

“y/n used mud to draw a smiley face on my cheek so I got revenge”

in the end, Tommy's team got 10 and began celebrating that they had won

“the boss and y/n got 11”

“LETS GOOOOO”

after bragging about your win you and tubbo ran off throwing mud at each other and Tommy whilst Tommy and jack bickered about who made them lose a few moments later you and tubbo looked up to see Tommy running past you both

“I don't think he's taking the news well”

you all made your way back to the car park Tommy and jack left together tubbo stayed with you waiting for your parents to pick you up on their way back home.

“you could just stay the night at mine..we could stream for a little while I’m sure you’ve left something that you can wear for the night and tomorrow and to be fair you stay at mine all the time”

“yeah I probably do I’ll call them on the way back to yours”

“come on let’s go home”

taglist:

@bearytime @milkydisaster @dumb-chaotic-bi-energy @uselesssapphickitten @l0ver0fj0y @etheriaaly @xx-smiley-xx @hawarun @kylobensgirl @cawcaw-pretty-thing @reverse-iak @renleicrashed @augustine-is-joy @c1loudee

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usafphantom2 · 2 years

Text

USAF F-16 driver says F-35 would be better than the F-22 in the war against Russia or China

Fernando Valduga By Fernando Valduga 05/13/22 - 6:34 PM in Military

Many people think that the F-22 would easily crush an F-35. The F-22 is credited with better stealth and maneuverability, but it makes people jump to conclusions that the F-22 is definitely better than the F-35 in all war situations. In fact, this may not be the case.

An interesting question was asked to Rick Scheff, USAF F-16 driver on Quora, do you prefer to be the driver of an F-22 or F-35?

According to Scheff, the answer is F-35, no doubt.

Scheff said that the Raptor is as cool as possible, and is the largest air superiority fighter the world has ever seen, but since the F-15C that was originally designed to replace it is an airplane without a real mission in the modern conflict. “When was the last time an American fighter killed another fighter in an air-to-air combat? Go look for it, I'll wait," he said.

"It's nice to think about World War II/Korea/Vietnam and the great air combats in history and believe me, I wish I was flying at that time, but this is not the modern battlefield. None of America's conflicts present pitched battles against technologically modern opponents. Even if somehow a real war against a modern opponent began, the days of fighting within visual range ended. There is a place for visual identification and real fighter maneuvers now, but in a playless war against Russia or China, it would not exist. We would be killing them as far as we could. With this in mind, the fusion of sensors of the F-35 and the ability to transport weapons externally are more valuable than the ability of the F-22 to make curves in style," says the F-16 pilot.

In addition, the real role of modern fighter jets involves air-to-ground components: CAS (Close Air Support) and SEAD (Suppression of Enemy Air Defenses), and the old-fashioned bombing are the real reasons for having modern fighters.

"Multimission capacity is an additional bonus, but in the end, wars are won by killing people on the ground and destroying their equipment, so you want to: first, fighters that can kill people and destroy equipment, and second, to make the theater safe for bombers and jets/attack helicopters to kill people and break more equipment," Scheff adds.

The Raptor has some limited capacity to do this, but the F-35 is designed to do so. Similarly, the Viper is fundamentally superior to the F-15C, and the F-35 is fundamentally superior to the F-22. Multifunction aircraft are designed with the mission in mind. Air-to-air combat and air superiority planes are designed to fight a war that we do not fight and mainly function as high-speed cheerleaders.

"At some point, the question of which one you prefer to fly boils down to this: do you prefer to be the most fucked up high-speed cheerleader in the world or do you prefer to do the job? The F-35 does the job," says the USAF pilot.

“As an aside, if you were smart, there is a plane that you prefer to fly than anyone in the 5th generation. It has the same multifunctional features as the F-35, but it has proven to be effective and is working now. It is also much more beautiful, more fun to fly, more cinematically capable and thanks to the aforementioned sensor fusion, able to hitchhike on AWACS and other US assets to engage the same types of targets in the same range types as the F-35. It also has the distinction of being the last great hunt for ãdogfight and the most beautiful fighter of all time," concludes Scheff.

Tags: Military AviationF-22 RaptorF-35 Lightning IIUSAF - United States Air Force / U.S. Air Force

Fernando Valduga

Aviation photographer and pilot since 1992, he has participated in several events and air operations, such as Cruzex, AirVenture, Dayton Airshow and FIDAE. He has works published in a specialized aviation magazine in Brazil and abroad. He uses Canon equipment during his photographic work in the world of aviation.

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 4 years

Text

All Men Have Limits - VI

Character: Dick Grayson x Reader x Bruce Wayne

Summary: A certain bat believes that Y/N is in way over her head, that she’s too naive to act in her best interest. So, whether she wants it or not, the vigilante family is going to help and protect her before she gets herself killed.

Word Count: 3,800+

Previously on…

“Nightwing! Regroup!” Bruce snapped into the comms again.

No matter how dire the situation was, they always stuck with their codenames while in uniform. But right now, Bruce wanted to scream at Dick to get his shit together.

Dick was quiet for a moment, allowing his family to only hear the roaring of his motorcycle as it zipped through the streets of Gotham.

“By the time we regroup, she’ll be dead,” Dick answered darkly.

This was the biggest difference between Dick and Bruce.

Dick wasn’t ruled by his emotions – except when it involved the safety of people he cared for and loved. When that happened, his emotions took control. It was very unlike Bruce, which just proved there were some things Dick simply couldn’t get trained out of him.

Bruce was always calm and collected – even when it was his kids that were in danger. Was he scared for Y/N’s life? Yes. But he also knew that panicking and going in hot was not going to help her. If anything, it would put more people in danger.

“Jason is following him,” Tim announced.

Jason might’ve refused to use comms, but they still had a tracker on his bike.

“What’s the plan?” Tim asked.

——————

Y/N probably looked like a drunk driver from the way she was serpentining to the heart of Gotham.

But she was tried to load a magazine into her gun as she ran every red light without getting t-boned by oncoming traffic.

It was…a lot. Especially since Y/N knew she were driving to her assassination.

It hadn’t been hard sneaking past the internal security at the manor. Y/N knew she could do it since she was brought there. But she decided to save that knowledge for the right time. And that was tonight. It was clearly designed mostly for Damian – or perhaps for any of the boys when they were younger and rebellious.

Then Y/N had to jumpstart the first car she saw parked on the street near Wayne Manor, which took longer than she had liked.

She might not have a lot of skills in the combat area. But she was rather resourceful in almost every other way – which included hijacking cars.

Y/N was so panicked about making it to the city before they could intervene, that her mind wasn’t really processing what was about to happen.

All Y/N knew was that she hoped they’d be done with it before any of them knew what was happening and could try to stop it.

She knew what they would’ve said. They would’ve told her to stay where she was and they would handle it. They would’ve done everything to keep her safe while also trying to save Gotham.

But Y/N couldn’t wait to see if she was responsible for the deaths of thousands while she sat on her ass and did nothing.

So she took her life into her own hands.

She gave enough information for them to use. Even if she was gone, she’d given them enough leads to finish the job without her.

Now her time was up.

Y/N knew eventually time would catch to her. She’d lived a far too risky life, threatened the most dangerous people, ruined the lives and locked up even more of dangerous people. It was only a matter of time before her luck ran out.

Y/N skidded the car to a stop. And she realized her hands were shaking as she threw the car into park.

She hadn’t stopped driving until she reached Old Gotham – right underneath the Clock Tower.

It was a nice, wealthy part of the city, which meant that there weren’t questionable people lingering on the streets.

In fact, it was eerily quiet – even for such a nice neighborhood. Y/N didn’t see a single person walking around in her vicinity.

But when she turned, there were five masked people watching her.

The Talons.

Their faces and bodies were completely covered, with their masks and goggles reminiscent of actual owls.

All of them had an arsenal of some sort of bladed weapon – countless knives, katanas, axes, or even broadswords. And, of course, they all had talons.

“So you are the irritant,” one of them greeted, his voice muffled from his gear.

Y/N took a step back as she grabbed her gun out of the back of her waist.

But she felt a presence behind her and whipped around to see more Talons surrounding her.

Did they really expect her to be able to put up that much of a fight?

“I’ve been called worse,” Y/N smirked.

She was clearly in denial that she was about to die.

They all unsheathed their weapons.

But Y/N wasn’t going to let them make the first move.

She started shooting bullets. Either they were wearing bullet-proof vests or they were blocking her bullets with their weapons. It was all happening so fast that she couldn’t figure it out. She knew her aim wasn’t off. Jason had been secretly teaching her how to shoot. And she’d gotten rather good with his help.

“Fuck,” Y/N hissed when her magazine was empty and she had failed to take down a single Talon.

As she tried to reload the magazine, their patience ran out.

One of them knocked the gun out of her hand, slicing the skin in the process.

Before Y/N could look down at the damage, another Talon wrapped his hand around her neck and lifted her off the ground like a doll.

“How can such a weak and pathetic woman have caused such a nuisance?” He cooed at her as he tilted his head, inspecting her.

Y/N couldn’t reply even if she wanted to.

Her hands were frantically trying to free herself, nails ripping at the armor and gloves of the Talon.

“Perhaps she could be of use to us,” one of them spoke up. “Unless she’d rather die…”

But before they could drop her or make a decision, someone dropped into the middle of the chaos with a blur.

Next thing Y/N knew, she was being dropped to the ground and coughing to recover her breath.

When she looked up, she saw Dick – no, Nightwing – taking on all of the Talons who were sent to kill her.

Yes, Y/N had frequently seen Dick train with Bruce and his brothers. However, this was something entirely different.

Y/N watched in shock as Dick used his escrima sticks to take out the Talons in droves. He flipped, kicked, punched, and moved in a way Y/N had never seen before.

There was a moment of pause that gave him the opportunity to meet her gaze.

“Y/N, run!” Dick screamed as he flipped away from the deadly claws of a Talon.

She blinked at his command and snapped out of her daze.

Jumping to her feet, she did as he said.

But she only got a few yards before two more Talons dropped in front of her and blocked her path.

Her fear was interrupted by bullets raining on them seconds before a motorcycle flew into her peripheral.

Red Hood did a front wheel break and swung his motorcycle so precisely that he managed to take out both of the Talons with the backend of his bike.

He turned to look at her. “Get on.”

But Y/N looked behind her at Dick, who was fighting Talon after Talon.

“What about Di–” she stopped herself from using his name. “What about Nightwing?!”

“Batman is on his way with the others. But right now, we have to get you out of here,” Jason yelled back.

Right on cue, the Batmobile came screaming toward them, as well as Tim on his motorcycle.

“Y/N, get on the motherfucking bike,” Jason warned her.

She turned around again and saw Dick now being aided by Damian, Tim, and Bruce. They were finally starting to overpower the Talons.

Clearly they hadn’t sent the numbers to defend themselves against the entire bat family. They probably assumed Y/N would head their warning and arrive unaccompanied. And Y/N did. But both her and The Court underestimated the vigilante family’s protectiveness towards her.

Y/N finally listened to Jason and jumped on the back of his motorcycle.

Barely giving her a second to adjust, Jason floored it and sped away from the fight as quickly as possible.

This motorcycle ride was nothing like the one Y/N shared with Dick.

Jason rode like bat out of hell, whipping around tight corners without slowing down. And even with her vice-like grip around his waist, Y/N felt like she could fly off at any moment. The wind stung against her skin like a million little needles.

“Where are we going?” Y/N tried to scream to him.

“We have to make sure they’re not tracking us before we return to the cave!”

Y/N couldn’t tell how long they had been driving around. But her arms and muscles were sore from the tension of holding on for dear life. She was so exhausted that if she hadn’t been so scared, she probably could’ve fallen asleep on the back of Jason’s motorcycle – even with his reckless driving.

Without any warning, Jason veered into a parking garage and went to the basement level where no cars were parked. He must’ve pressed a button because a hidden compartment was opening against the cement wall and suddenly they were driving through it.

Y/N got off the bike as soon as he stopped and looked around.

It must be one of his safehouses.

To her surprise, Jason took off his Red Hood helmet and then the domino mask underneath. He also grabbed some clothes that would either cover his Red Hood uniform or make it look like civilian clothing.

He pointed to a car, “Come on.”

Y/N followed him silently and got into the passenger seat.

It was a 20 minute ride back to the manor.

And it finally gave Y/N time to actually process what she had planned to do tonight.

“Wanna talk about it?” Jason asked after 10 minutes of silence.

“And say what?” She challenged.

He smirked. “I don’t know. Maybe how you enjoy playing sacrificial lamb.”

Y/N ground her teeth together. “That’s oversimplifying it, and you know it.”

Jason just shrugged.

“That’s it?” She asked when he didn’t follow up with any more questions. “Really? You’re not going to start lecturing me?”

“Oh, definitely not. ‘Cause you’re gonna get a shit ton of that when Bruce sees you – maybe even from Dick, if he’s not too overwhelmed with relief from seeing you in one piece. Which, by the way, you’re very lucky to be.”

Y/N had no response to that.

The rest of the ride was quiet, except for the local classic rock radio station that Jason decided to turn on.

To their surprise, no one was waiting in the cave for them. But Dick and Tim’s motorcycles were parked, as well as the batmobile. So they had clearly returned.

“That might not be a great sign…” Jason mumbled as got out of his civilian car. “Come on,” he nudged with his head as he started making his way to the stairs that led back into the manor.

When they got up, Jason followed the sounds of voices coming from the kitchen.

Y/N’s eyes immediately took in the group, worried that someone would be missing.

No one was in full uniform. Tim and Damian were in sweats. Bruce’s cape and cowl were gone, but his full body armor was still on.

The three of them and Alfred were all gathered around Dick, who was sitting on the island counter shirtless with nothing but his black compression shorts on.

One of his left eye was black, there was dried blood below his nostrils, his bottom lip was split and swollen. But Y/N’s eyes were only looking at the wound on his side that Alfred was currently stitching. Clearly one of the Talons’ swords found an in.

When the family heard Jason and Y/N’s entrance, all eyes were on them.

Dick looked relieved.

But Bruce? He looked livid.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

He didn’t yell. No, instead his voice was low and even. And it scared Y/N more than yelling ever could.

But she was too busy looking at Dick’s injuries with concern.

Then her gaze raced to Tim and Damian, looking them up and down to try and assess if they had any injuries. But they seemed in good shape.

“Y/N!” Bruce snapped.

Finally she acknowledged him.

“What?!” She growled in return.

“What were you thinking?”

“Bruce…” Dick warned quietly.

They had all seen Bruce get this way. And they all unfortunately had been on the other side of his wrath. They could see the telltale signs that Bruce was about to give one of his level-headed, but extremely disappointed speeches.

Except there was one big difference this time: Y/N wasn’t one of Bruce’s kids.

And by now, all of the boys had figured out that Bruce was feeling some kind of way about her. Even Damian had finally realized that Y/N wasn’t just an ally or fellow vigilante to his father.

“How about we all take in a deep breath and appreciate that none of us are dead?” Jason asked the group loudly. “Because we know that hasn’t always been on the case in the past…”

But Bruce ignored Jason and took a step to Y/N.

“You could’ve been killed,” he muttered quickly.

“I was trying to save innocent lives!” Y/N snapped.

“You should’ve told us as soon as you received the threat,” he countered.

“Why? So you could sideline me and make decisions about my fucking life?”

“We would have come up with a plan. One that did not involve you hot-wiring a car and driving to your death.”

“I was trying not to endanger anyone else, meaning all five of you!”

“And look how that ended,” Bruce answered darkly as she gesture to Dick, who was now stitched up and Alfred was putting a wrap around his torso.

“You can’t just shove your way into my life whenever you feel like it!” Y/N finally shouted at Bruce. “I was doing just fine before you added yourself to the situation.”

This wasn’t just about tonight anymore. The tension in their relationship had now flooded into the argument, finally reaching its boiling point.

“Tonight proved otherwise,” Bruce told her evenly.

But Bruce remaining too calm and showing no emotional reaction was only infuriating Y/N more.

“Hey!” Y/N yelled. “Just because I don’t put on a stupid costume and punch my way out of problems doesn’t mean you’re better than me. In fact, you would be screwed if it weren’t for me. You need me. You need me more than I need you.”

Bruce just glared at her.

“What? Nothing to say?”

“We can have a discussion when you stop behaving like a child.”

And it was finally what made Y/N snap.

She lunged at him.

What she planned on doing to him was beyond her. Everyone, including herself, knew she didn’t stand a chance against a petty fight with Batman. She probably couldn’t even land a punch if he let her.

Thankfully, she would never have to get that proven to her. Because Dick put a stop to it before it could actually start.

When he had moved off the counter and closer to their argument, she didn’t know.

But now Dick was finally intervening as he wrapped his arms around Y/N from behind her, pinning her arms to her side and pressing her back to his chest.

“A child?!” Y/N screamed as she tried to fight her way out of Dick’s grip. “Should I remind you that you fucked this ‘child’?!”

“Alright,” Dick warned her calmly. “That’s enough.”

“Let go of me!”

“Calm down,” he told her quietly.

Suddenly, Y/N remembered that Dick was injured, and he was injured because of her. And now she was thrashing against him, probably causing him harm and putting him at risk of opening the stitches Alfred had just finished.

“Fine,” she huffed. “I’m calm.”

But Dick waited a second or two before he decided to believe her.

When he let go, she lightly shoved him away from her and made her escape.

The whole family watched her leave, and felt the awkward tension that filled the room after she’d gone.

Tim looked shocked.

Jason glared at Bruce.

Damian seemed rather disappointed – in Y/N or his father, no one could figure out.

Dick eyed Bruce. “Great job,” he told him darkly.

Bruce just crossed this arms and sighed.

Dick gestured in the direction that Y/N went. “Aren’t you going to go after her?”

But he knew already from Bruce’s expression that he wasn’t going to anything of the sort.

“You know what, forget it.” Dick huffed before heading in the general direction that Y/N had escaped.

But Jason wasn’t going to let Bruce off the hook so easily.

“What the fuck is the matter with you?” He hissed.

“Stay out of it, Jason.”

“Stay out of it?” He mocked. “Yeah, it’s a little bit hard to do that when her safety has become a family matter.” Jason shook his head in disappointment and turned to leave, “I’m out of here.”

-----------

When Dick tried to retrace Y/N’s steps, he found the front door of the manor wide open. The sight was rather eerie for some reason. But Dick stepped onto the front of the manor and looked out at the land.

Had she made a run for the gate?

It wouldn’t be the first time tonight, clearly.

But after a few scans of the property, he eventually found her.

Despite the circumstances, Dick couldn’t help but smirk when he found Y/N sprawled on the great lawn of the manor, laying on her back and staring up at the stars.

He stood over her. “I’m surprised you didn’t make a run for it.”

“Oh, I tried,” she told him matter of factly. “Bastard’s already updated the security system from earlier tonight.”

“Believe it or not, that’s his way of saying he cares. Just ask Damian.” He slowly sat down on the lawn with her, but made sure to still give her some space.

“No. It’s his way of reminding me that he’s the one in control.”

Dick winced, knowing there was probably truth to that, too.

“He shouldn’t have said that to you,” Dick sighed.

Y/N scoffed. “What part?”

He hesitated before clarifying. “You’re not a child.”

She went quiet, not expecting him to get right to it.

“Well, we’re the same age…so of course you’d say that.”

Dick rubbed his face, knowing this was a losing battle. Nothing he said on the matter would bring her comfort.

Y/N finally looked away from the stars and her face scrunched in guilt and worry as she took in Dick’s fresh bandage. There was a pinkish blotch that showed just how big the wound was.

Slowly she sat up and turned to him. “Are you okay?” She whispered shakily.

He grinned at her concern. “Believe it or not, this is nothing.”

But Y/N still reached forward and cupped his face. Her thumb traced around his black eye, but made sure not to put any pressure on the swollen skin.

Dick leaned into her touch, not bothering to try and hide the affection.

“This is exactly what I didn’t want,” Y/N mumbled.

Dick opened his mouth, but then quickly changed his mind and closed it again.

“What?” She pushed.

But before Dick would answer, he slowly moved into her space. Then he pressed his forehead to hers.

“Please, don’t do anything like that again.”

His approach was different, but it was clear Dick and Bruce felt the same way about the stunt she had pulled.

Y/N was quiet.

“I understand why you did it. I really do.” He added quickly. “But just…” He paused and took in a shaky inhale. “Tonight scared the hell out of me, Y/N.”

“I’m sorry,” Y/N whispered.

“I know you are. I saw it on your face as soon as you saw my injuries.” His eyes went dark. “But we can’t do things like that. We have to work together or this is all going to explode in our faces.”

Y/N thought over his words.

His hands went to cup her face.

“Deal?” He pushed.

She nodded.

Then Dick’s eyes moved down to her throat.The blistering red was already fading and being replaced by purple and blue bruising.

His mind flashed back to earlier, how he saw her dangling by her throat and unable to escape the Talon’s grip. The sight had caused him to rush into battle, not thinking of a plan before doing so. It went against everything Bruce had taught him. But seeing Y/N’s life in danger made him black out.

“We should get some ice for your neck,” Dick muttered quietly.

Then he looked down at her hand. It had stopped bleeding, but the cut looked painful and there was dried blood surrounding it.

“Fucker sliced it when he knocked my gun out of my hand,” Y/N mumbled when she saw Dick staring at it.

He eyed her suspiciously. “And I suppose Jason’s been helping with that, huh?”

She cringed. “Maybe…”

Dick just huffed and shook his head.

He started getting up, “Come on. Let me clean that cut and get some ice for your neck.”

But Y/N pulled him back down.

“Wait. Can we…Can we just stay for a bit?” She asked quietly, and then pointed up and laid back down in the grass to stare up at the sky.

Dick smirked and nodded.

He joined her, moving closer this time so their shoulders touched.

“You can actually see the stars out here,” Y/N sighed.

The smog and city lights of Gotham made them invisible.

But now they were far enough to see a few.

Dick thought about all the places he used to travel to with the circus. Some of them were so far removed from society that he could see every single star at night.

But he didn’t tell Y/N that this was nothing compared to those places.

Instead, Dick just slowly moved his hand and grabbed Y/Ns, interlacing their fingers. A part of him expected her to pull away. But she squeezed his hand and kept looking up.

—

Alfred found Bruce in the library, looking out the windows.

When he joined his side, he saw what Bruce was looking at: Dick and Y/N laying on the grass of the great lawn, stargazing.

“You’re disappointed in me,” Bruce said without taking his eyes off the two.

“I said nothing of the sort, Master Wayne.”

Bruce frowned. “You don’t have to.”

“She is not another charge, Master Wayne.” Alfred sighed. “Therefore you should not treat her as such.”

“I’m trying to keep her safe.”

“Why do you think she said nothing of the threat?” Alfred countered. “Why do you think she did not believe she could trust you?”

Bruce said nothing.

“You put the safety of Gotham over your own life every night, Master Wayne.” Alfred continued. “Yet you are so spiteful towards others who do the same.”

That finally made Bruce turn away from the window to look at Alfred.

“You owe her an apology,” Alfred finally confirmed. “Even if Master Dick has become rather good at cleaning up your messes.”

--------------------------------------------

Part 7

Let me know what you think – please, please, please.

#all men have limits #all men have limits part 6 #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson reader insert #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne reader insert #bruce wayne x reader x dick grayson #dick grayson x reader x bruce wayne #batman x reader #nightwing x reader #batfam #batboys #bruce wayne fic #dick grayson fic

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calaofnoldor · 4 years

Text

Driving My Baby

Characters: Dean x Reader (gender neutral)

Words: 2,183 (i can’t drabble)

Summary: Dean doesn’t know about your mad skills behind the wheel, but it turns out there’s nothing hotter than seeing his baby driving his Baby.

Warnings: implied smut, language, fluff, dean’s bow legs, references to the fast and furious franchise

A/N: was originally gonna post a slightly angsty 2-part dean fic next, but decided against it in light off recent events lol. there’s really no plot or substance here, just some light floof. (and yes, the title is a reference to the song ‘you’re having my baby’)

MASTERLIST

The roar of Baby’s engine rumbled to a halt as Dean glanced over at you, “Alright, so you gonna sit tight while I go scope this place out?”

You sent him a close-lipped smile, trying your best to repress the excitement bubbling within you. “Mhm!” you concurred with a bouncy nod, pausing to sneak a quick peek at his shapely behind when he stepped out of the car, “I’ll try and see if I can get a hold of that morgue guy again.”

Walking over to the passenger side, Dean bent down to kiss you through the open window. “Mmkay, I’ll be back soon,” he mumbled against your lips, before turning to commence his search for the potential vamp hideout you suspected was in the vicinity.

“Oh wait! Dean!” you called out, stopping him in his tracks.

“Yeah?”

“The keys?”

Dean looked down at his pocket where the Impala’s keys were safely nestled and then back up at you with raised brows.

“You’re not gonna leave me in here like a dog, are you?” There was a subtle hint of amusement in your voice, but also a challenging edge, as well as a slight pout which you added for good measure. You knew he could never really say ‘no’ to you.

And as expected, Dean returned to deposit the keys into your waiting hands. You gave him a wide smile in return, “Thank you! Love you!”

Your boyfriend narrowed his glimmering green eyes at you, imparting one last suspicious glimpse in your direction as he grumbled somewhat warily, “Love you too,” and then finally sauntered off for good.

Biting your lip, you watched with bated breath as his figure grew smaller in the rear-view mirror. Normally, you would have enjoyed the exquisite vision of what you often dubbed his ‘sexy ass bow-legged swagger’, but this time, it was when Dean was no longer in sight that a devilish grin broke out across your face.

But really, who could blame you? You’d been a car enthusiast all your life, and classic cars were your weakness. “It’s just you and me now, Baby.” Your fingers glided along the dashboard.

With Sam on the bench due to a broken ankle (courtesy of the werewolf from your last hunt), you and Dean had driven out to Piedmont to take care of this vampire case on your own. So now after two years with the Winchesters, you finally had a chance to explore the front seat of Dean’s Baby, his pride and joy, the glorious, refurbished 1967 Chevy Impala.

When you’d joined forces with the brothers, it was readily agreed upon that you would be better off riding together in the sleek American muscle car, so you ditched your stolen, rusty 2003 Honda Accord and never looked back. Since there was a giant moose to accommodate, you were naturally relegated to the back seat, and rightfully so, but boy, did you miss the thrill of being in the driver’s seat.

You were always a bit of a demon behind the wheel, and it’d been ages since you’d gotten the chance to flex your driving skills. Back when you and Dean first got together, he promised you joyrides (and other recreational activities) in Baby, but the hunting life never seemed to let you get it on.

Sliding across the bench seat, your lungs released a contented sigh as you wrapped your hands around the leather-bound steering wheel. Dean’s bowlegs, however sexy, were not the same length as yours, so you pulled the lever beneath the seat to adjust its position to your liking. Perfect.

You took your time getting to know the ins and outs at the helm of the Impala, though it seemed like none at all had passed when you suddenly heard Dean’s deep voice cry out.

“Y/N!” Your eyes shot up to the rear-view mirror to find an image of the older Winchester running towards the car. “We gotta go!”

Well that’s strange, you thought. Dean never ran – not unless someone, or more often something, was chasing him… Oh shit. Had he somehow woken the vampires? But the sun was still thriving; how much could they retaliate out in the open at this point during the day?

“We gotta get outta here! Now!”

Dean’s voice was much closer now and if you’d learned anything from your experiences hunting with the Winchesters, it was to never doubt your boyfriend’s commands. He was a seasoned pro and possessed instincts like you’d never seen. It’s a good thing you’ve also got some of your own.

Plunging Baby’s key into the ignition, you started the car without hesitation, allowing yourself only a second to relish in the thunderous purr of the engine below you and the incomparable feeling of glee that always sprouted in your chest whenever you were sat at the wheel of a powerful, capable vehicle. Indeed, the adrenaline was already rearing.

As Dean approached the car, you quickly reached over to open the passenger side door for him. “Get in the car!”

“You- Wha-“ Dean stumbled for a split second, so accustomed to taking the driver’s seat. “Y/N, they’re awake and they’ve got bikes – a bunch of Harleys!” he continued to explain, as if that would get you to move out of his designated spot.

“OK, so hurry up!” you yelled again.

Seeing no better option, Dean hastily climbed into the car. Just as he got in, your ears picked up the unmistakable resounding growl of revving motorcycle engines. From the sound of it, they couldn’t be too far off. So when Dean slammed the door shut, your foot came down fast and heavy against Baby’s gas pedal, propelling you forward with an aggressive lurch before you whizzed off, burning rubber and leaving nothing but flying leaves and dust in your wake.

“Jesus!” Dean bellowed; his eyes had grown to about twice their usual size.

You paid him no attention though, too busy reveling in the delightful buzz that vibrated through your body starting from your fingers and toes, where you could feel every unit of Baby’s intoxicating horsepower, and travelling up your limbs until the exhilaration settled deep within your very core.

Stealing a glance at the rear-view mirror, you caught sight of the monster-driven motorcade advancing considerably, so you decided to take the next available turn as an attempt to throw them off. Things were getting truly exciting now.

“Vamps on bikes? Really?! And covered in leather?” you huffed mirthfully with a shake of your head.

But it was Dean’s turn to ignore you. He was clutching at his door tightly, as if afraid your driving might somehow hurl him out of it. In fact, when you took the first corner without warning, Dean just about fell over.

“Woah! Slow down, Toretto!” he shouted in alarm, looking over at you as if you’d grown a second head.

Seeing you’d managed to surprise the vampires with your unexpected maneuver however, a loaded smirk was your only reply.

It took you about twenty minutes to get the vamps off your tail, during which time Dean managed to recover from his initial shock and began instead to absorb your radiant form. The look of exuberance on your face and the utter determination in your bright eyes, mixed with the mischievous tug of your lips, and combined with the all-around liberated and euphoric aura that surrounded you was sexy as hell, not to mention your sheer competence. All of it astounded him and caused his blood to flow to places he could not have foreseen.

You seemed to be completely at one with his esteemed Baby, handling her with perfect control and aptitude, and all the while enjoying yourself so very much. It was something Dean never knew you were capable of, but more so, it was something he never knew he needed.

Dean had always loved how much you loved and appreciated his car, but this made him feel like he was seeing you in a new light; it made him feel like he was falling for you all over again. That devilish glint in your normally kind and virtuous eyes, your ever jubilant and fervent love for life after enduring so much pain and grief, the way you never ceased to amaze and surprise him – it was all gloriously heady and irresistibly addictive. His teeth couldn’t help but pull at his lower lip, emerald eyes glazing over with lust and adoration as he stared over at you in the driver’s seat.

So when you ultimately pulled into an empty clearing, not wanting to lead the vamps straight back to your motel room, Dean was at a loss for words.

“So, a bloodsucking motorcycle gang, huh? Can’t say I’ve seen that before,” you speculated in a cheery, nonchalant tone, feeling perfectly satisfied after your little stunt driving escapade.

Dean, on the other hand, appeared not unlike a fish out of water with his furrowed brows and pouty lips which appeared undecided as to whether they should remain open or closed.

“That was… I just- You-… I don’t even know…” he ran his hands through his hair, pulling the short strands forward roughly, “What just happened?”

You sent him a small, innocent shrug, rather amused at his adorably stuttery response.

“You never told me you could drive like that.”

“You never asked,” you replied truthfully.

“Fuck, Y/N. That was… so… incredibly…”

What? Your curiosity was killing you. Dean’s opinion always mattered to you and at the moment, you could read a myriad of emotions upon his face. He looked stunned and confused, perhaps a bit frightened, but at the same time awed and impressed, and maybe even – were you reading that right? – slightly… aroused?

Dean lowered his voice to answer your unspoken question, “Hot,” he finished emphatically.

You heaved a breathy laugh, “Yeah?”

“Fuck yes! Baby, that was incredible. The way you handled Baby like a fucking pro, the little faces you made when you were living for the thrill of the chase. The skill, the speed, the Tokyo drifting, all of it. Goddamn, you are so sexy when you’re driving my Baby like that.”

“Well that’s a coincidence ‘cause I also happen to find you amazingly sexy when you’re behind this wheel,” you joked lightly, “In fact, I think seeing you drive this car might’ve been part of the reason I fell in love with you.”

“And I think I just fell in love with you all over again,” came Dean’s suave response.

You giggled a bit, but soon sobered when you saw his gorgeous eyes cloud over with wanton desire. One minute you were dwelling in the heavily charged sexual tension that seemed to consume the entire car, watching his gaze wander down to your lips while yours did the same, and in the next your mouths met ferociously as your bodies swooped forwards simultaneously, crashing together in the center of Baby’s front seat.

You moaned into the kiss, your hands finding their way around Dean’s ridiculously broad shoulders and up to his thick neck. When you were forced to come up for air, his lips began to work their way down to your collar bone. “Mmm, god Dean.”

“Seriously baby, that was such a turn on,” he rambled across your skin, “I didn’t even know driving could be so hot.”

Your laughter was really more just an exhalation of air. “Are we finally gonna do it? Are we gonna christen Baby now, thanks to your newfound kink?” you whispered salaciously, your brain already presenting obscene images of the two of you re-enacting something akin to the infamous Titanic scene.

Dean paused for a moment, allowing you to rip off his outer layers with relish before he brought his large hands up to cup your cheeks. “See I wouldn’t call it ‘newfound’,” he started, dazzling forest orbs boring into your soul, “Cause I’m pretty sure it only turns me on when it’s you behind the wheel, and I’ve always had a kink for you.”

You stare at him in disbelief, unable to keep the smile off your face, “You are such a smooth fucker sometimes, Dean Winchester.” And with that, your lips and bodies collided yet again. His strong hands held you impossibly close while yours ran joyously across his expansive chest before travelling down to find the zipper of his jeans.

“Ungh, wait a sec,” you pulled back a little with knitted brows, a playfully incredulous tone taking over your voice, “Did you call me Dominic Toretto earlier?”

“Well, yeah. You were driving like a madman!” Dean exclaimed candidly.

You smirked, “So does that make you Letty Ortiz?”

“Sweetheart, I will gladly be the Letty to your Dom anytime you want… I still can’t believe you just took me on a high-speed car chase, that was fucking awesome! Just wait ‘til Sam hears about this one!”

Laughing as you pulled him back in, you shut him up with your tongue as it invaded his mouth, pausing only to smile against his luscious lips, “Mmm, well maybe he doesn’t have to hear about this next part?”

A/N #2: thank you so much for reading, feedback always appreciated! oh and here’s a look at some new stuff at lexicolor.redbubble.com :)

#dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester x male!reader #dean x you #dean x y/n #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester imagine #supernatural #spn #fanfiction #fanfic #one shot #my writing #text #fanart #lexicolor #redbubble

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