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jasntodds · 11 days

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Scars [J.T.]

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Summary: Jason lets you trace over his y scar

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, scars, mentions of death, bruises, cuts, general minor injuries, hurt/comfort

Words: 1,765

A/n: I just wanted something a little soft for once. If you wanna be tagged in my fics, you can click the link below, send me an ask/comment, or follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary and turn on notifications if you prefer that!!

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Jason carries the weight of every horrible, traumatic, and agonizing event that’s ever happened to him across his body, etched in pale and raised lines across him like a used roadmap. He wears them as cruel reminders that this life is unfair and unjust, even when he tries his hardest to make it so. There are some he pays no mind to, and doesn’t even really notice most days because they are there. That’s that. But, there are others…there are others he looks at as a punishment for everything he’s ever done and everything he never was and could never be. They’re reminders, laughing back at him every day, a sinister echo of his mistakes.

Most days, he tries to pay them no mind, either.

You’re sitting on your knees right beside Jason, his side pressed against the bare skin of your calf. Your eyes are trained on his exposed abdomen, showcasing the scars and cuts and bruises he’s collected over the last few years.

It wasn’t that seeing his body covered in new and old injuries was jarring. That was mostly fine. After the first few weeks of being friends, it stopped being jarring because that's just how it is with Jason. He gets hurt sometimes. It comes with the job and you accept that part of him. The bruises and cuts were very rarely ever jarring. The other scars were never really jarring because of course he has them. That always made sense to you. It's the autopsy scar that is jarring.

With the others, he'd told you it comes with the job and then he'd watch your face contort into a scrunch of worry and paranoia over his well-being, something he doesn't think he deserves most days. When the comment didn't ease your worry, he'd kiss you and give his signature cocky grin, a silent promise that he's fine and the conversation would end. The autopsy scar conversation is never so simple.

You knew he died because he told you not long before you made things official. You knew the story about the Joker and his mom. He told you of the horrid night and bits of pieces of the after. But this is your first time seeing the physical damage of the night that still wakes him up in the middle of the night. Your chest aches for him and it's jarring because he did die and he has to carry that kind of weight forever, something you'll swear until the day you die he doesn't deserve.

With delicate fingers, you trace over the long line of the autopsy scar, Jason’s eyes glancing from your hand to your face. His stomach tenses with the movement and you can’t tell if it’s because your hands are cold, it tickles, or he’s uncomfortable. If you know Jason, you’re kind of figuring it’s the third option. So, you glance back to him, chewing the inside of your cheek.

“This okay?” You ask softly.

“It’s fine.” Jason answers, his thumb lightly brushing over your thigh furthest away from him. “Bother you?”

Jason has been cautious not to show you because he knows how he feels about it. He knows that you worry. Seeing some sort of proof of death seems like it might send you spiraling into some sort of tornado of worry until you spin too far away from him. He's been cautious because he adores you and he doesn't want to lose you and he doesn't want it scare you.

You look back to the scar, tracing over it again. “No.” You answer quietly. It hurts your chest because it happened to him. It happened to him and nothing in this world could ever justify the torture and pain he's been through. It doesn't bother you because it is a part of him and you adore him with every beat your heart drums. “Bothers you though.”

Jason’s brows pull together. “How’d you figure?” There’s the slightest bit of a bite in his words like a scared puppy, a default reaction to being seen.

“Why wouldn’t it?” The question leaves your lips freely with unfiltered candor.

Seeing it for the first time, yeah it bothered him. It bothered him because what was the point? It wasn’t some mystery how he died. Maybe it was just legal reasons bullshit that Jason doesn’t care about. Though, he does fully understand that maybe if he hadn’t come back, he wouldn’t care. Or if it had healed, he wouldn’t care. So, that’s something he can’t really blame Bruce for. Instead, it’s that it’s there. Looking back at him in the mirror. Staring up at him when he looks down. It’s always there. It’s as if he was cut open and the weight of death and punishment and regret scattered over his organs and bones, making sure he understands the weight of his own consequences. He just can’t quite shake it and the scar is the reminder.

"I guess." Jason lets out this shaky breath as his stomach tenses below your fingertips.

"It's okay if it bothers you, Jay." You assure him. "I'd bother me if I were you but..." You pause for just a second, pressing an open palm over some of the raised edges of the scar as your eyes are locked on his. "I hope it doesn't bother you too much because you got to live and I don't care what the other bats thought about it at first because I'm glad you got to come back. And you deserve to let the weight off your shoulders for once." Your eyes go back to the scar and trace up the line from the center of his stomach up to the right side of his chest.

Jason's thumb is rubbing lightly against your skin and he wonders why you make it seem so simple. No part of him thinks you believe it's simple but there's something in the way that you say it that almost gives Jason some sort of faith in the idea of it. That maybe there is a day where it won't feel like he's carrying the weight of the world. Maybe there is a day someday where he won't feel the aching and longing of his bones. You offer him tenderness and kindness when the majority of his life has been nothing but skinned knees and broken hearts.

That feels terrifying, too but...maybe he's tired of running away from things because they're good for him. And good to him.

Seeing the autopsy scar for the first time bothered him. Seeing it yesterday bothered him. But, at this exact point in time with your fingers running along the tattered edges, it doesn’t bother him so much.

“Thank you.” Jason holds his words steady with a sort of caution at the edges. "It's not bothering me now." His voice is quiet as his eyes glance to you and then back to your fingers on his skin.

He is entirely exposed to you now. There’s no going back even if that is absolutely terrifying. Jason keeps himself guarded to protect himself and protect everyone else around him. But, you make letting the guard down a little bit easier. You’re tender and delicate with him, two things no one ever is. At no point have you ever thought less of him for the things he’s done and things he’s seen, or the things that rip his body to shreds. You take him as he is and offer him understanding and kindness, two things Jason has been desperate to get from anyone. And he is so thankful for you.

“Good.” Your voice is quiet before your stare goes back to the scar. “I hope it never bothers you again.”

Jason sits up, closing some of the distance between you while you rest your hands in your lap. His eyes run over your face slowly while the corner of his mouth is pinched barely upwards. He looks content. He looks comfortable. His heart is beating a mile a minute as it’s about to run through his ribs. There’s something fluttering against it, something that feels warm and welcoming in the beating of his heart. There’s something that makes his breathing unsteady without ever sucking the air from his lungs. There is something that feels comfortable and like a home he didn’t think he’d ever find.

Jason leans forward, resting his forehead against yours and your entire body relaxes in that instant. He pulls away, pressing a kiss to your nose and then to your cheek before he rests his head in the crook of your neck. You turn your head and press a kiss to his temple before your hands come to his cheeks to pick his head up.

His eyes lock on your eyes and you adore him. You adore him for all that he is today. The scars never really bothered you because they hold him together. All of them have a story that has led Jason Todd to who he is today. They are proof that he is alive. They are proof that even when he was hurt, even when he was murdered, he is alive. The air can be pulled into his lungs and oxygen will circulate through his cells again. He is alive. The autopsy scar is just further proof to you because he shouldn’t have been brought back but he was. And that was for a reason. That scar is just another piece of proof he is meant to be here. It is another mark of how he got here today and you, for one, are eternally thankful that he is here today.

Your thumbs are running over his cheeks and Jason swears he has never felt so wanted by anyone. And he doesn’t feel so damn alone in the world anymore. He feels important and he only hopes he makes you feel the same way. He can only hope you understand how much you mean to him and that he is just as important to you.

Your lips come to his and he melts into your touch as he kisses you back. His hand comes up to the back of your head to pull you in closer. And he thinks he might do everything in his power to have more moments like these with you. You can trace his scars and he can tell you about them and you can exist in the bubble where it is only the two of you. You can trace his scars and he can run his fingers along your thigh and you both can feel wanted and important. And loved.

Tag List: @jasontoddsmentaldisorders // @purplerose291 // @lovelessamai // @makaelaseresin // @lenidaslenchen // @mayfieldss // @ghostkingblake // @dgraysonss // @im-done-with-this-im-out // @velvetskies // @vivian-555 // @kebonita // @deyja-the-duck // @jasontoddslover // @captainmarvels-blog // @totallynotkaibiased // @scarlovesyou // @whydoyoucare866 // @littlemeowmeow1000 // @septixtrash // @kplatzman // @killxz // @achromaticerebus // @lovefks // @kolpvii

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood x you #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction

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allbark-no-bite · 6 months

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marriage and honor.

jake seresin x reader (wc: 6.5k)

summary: the Navy has already taken two people from your life, and you don’t intend to let there be a third. that is until Jake Seresin walks into your life

warnings: severe plot holes, mentions of character death, swearing

authors note: based off of the movie Purple Hearts. it’s a great movie and i highly suggest watching it! please bear with me in the beginning of this, the plot holes fix themselves, i promise lol. i literally threw this together because i wrote one scene for shits and giggles and had to commit to it

(read parts two and three here: december and devotion, cats and christmas)

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No one ever expects to have to bury their brother at fifteen. Kinda just like no one expects to have to bury their other brother at eighteen. But you do it the first time and then you do it again three years later. It's a bit like deja vu the second time, like you're reliving the actual nightmare all over again. Except this time there's no one to hold your hand and tell you it's all going to be alright because he's dead and buried too.

They both die honorable deaths in service to their country. At least that's what they say at the memorials. You're not so sure there's anything comforting about dying honorably. They're both still dead, honored or not.

Raised by your grandparents, you'd grown up the youngest of three on a military base smack dab in the middle of San Diego, better yet known as Fightertown USA. True military brats, your old brothers enlisted straight out of high school, one after the other. As their young and impressionable kid sister, you worshiped the ground they walked on and had your heart set on following in their footsteps. That was of course, until they both went and died.

'Sometime these things just happen', is what you were told. And you know, freak accidents do happen. Engines fail, training exercises go awry, safety precautions are ignored. But that doesn't make up for the fact that lightning has, against all odds, stuck the same place twice.

So after the Navy takes away not one but two people from your life, you swear off all things to do with military life. The moment you graduate high school you pay out of pocket just to move off of the base into a shitty the-bedroom-and-bathroom-are-in-the-same-place apartment. You go to college and get the kind of degree that looks good on paper but you can't really get a job with. But it's fine because it helped you to put the past behind you and move on. So much that when your grandmother passes away unexpectedly, leaving your grandfather widowed, you're able to stomach moving back closer to home to take care of him.

At least, you'd thought that you had moved on.

Now, standing in the middle of the courthouse wearing what had been your college graduation dress (the only white dress you could find on such short notice) and watching the man before you slip a ring on your finger, you're not so sure. As a matter of a fact, you actually feel sick, queasy like you might have to bend over the nearest trashcan to get the blood rushing to your head again. That might would be a good idea because what the hell were you thinking.

Jake must take notice of the expression on your face because he offers you a weak smile, his pink lips pressed together. The same thought must be running through his mind too because he also looks like he might be sick at any moment.

What the hell were either of you thinking?

"I now pronounce you husband and wife." Thankfully the minister is too bored looking with his own job to notice that both of you are looking worse for wear. He also completely forgets to say 'you may now kiss the bride', which is another thing to be thankful for. That might have been the straw that broke the camel's back and sent both you and Jake running for the hills. Instead he mumbles a unenthusiastic congratulations and departs from the room, leaving you and Jake standing numbly side by side.

In the following seconds after the minister leaves the room, silence settles between the two of you, partially due to shock and partially because you don't even know what to say. It's a sight, Jake in his pristine navy dress whites and you in your too short college graduation dress.

Finally, Jake clears his throat, swallowing. "Well, there's no turning back now."

*queue rewind noise*

You may be wondering how we got here.

*six days ago*

"C'mon baby, you didn't think that was funny? Girls usually love that line."

He'd been after you all night, smiling, cracking jokes, buying you beers. You had to admit, he was nothing if not persistant.

"Unfortunately for you, I don't date funny guys." Despite your tone, you're actually genuinely amused by the situation. He's trying so hard, and it's getting him absolutely nowhere.

He's handsome, without a doubt the most attractive man at the bar, but he could be the most attractive man in the world and you still wouldn't touch him with a ten foot pole. Not with that smile and defiantly not with that uniform on.

"And why is that?" he laughs, undeterred by your blatant disinterest. His friends are watching, have been watching the two of you do this dance all night, and he's not about to back down now.

You watch the smile lines that appear on his tanned face, the way his eyes crinkle in amusement as he awaits on your answer. He's probably a few years your senior, early thirties if that's anything to go by.

"Funny guys are dangerous. They make you laugh and laugh and then boom you're naked."

His smile twitches and yeah, you can be funny too, wise guy.

"Is that where you think this is going?" he asks.

"Where else would it be going?"

And that's how it all started. The beginning of the end.

"You know navy spouses get a monthly stipend and are allowed to live on base?"

You remain facing the bar, peeling at the label on your bottle, not bothering to glance to your side. "You know, I really fucking wish Natasha would keep her mouth shut."

"(Y/n)—"

"It's no one else's fucking business what—"

He grabs the seat of your stool, nearly jerking it out from under you as he pulls it closer to his own. "Listen to me," he growls, a stark change from his usual demeanor.

Stubbornly leaning away so that you're not so close, you regard him with suspicious and narrowed eyes. You raise an eyebrow as if to say he's got your attention, however unwillingly.

"Right now, we're both in a tight spot, okay?"

You knew about his dad. Heard the whole spiel from Natasha— who you're learning that while, your best friend, cannot be trusted to keep her mouth shut— about how they weren't on good terms, hadn't talked since Jake got into the academy, and suddenly he calls out of the blue to tell Jake that he'd had enough of his son's playing around and that it was time for him to start thinking about getting married. That if he didn't within the next few months, he'd arrange the whole thing himself.

"You need a place to live—" You shush him, eyes darting to the people around you. You don't need anyone knowing that you can't exactly afford to pay your rent. Jake rolls his eyes because he doubts anyone could hear him even if he was yelling with how loud it is in the bar, but he lowers his voice regardless. "You need a place to live, and I need to get my old man off of my back..." He trails off, as if you should know where he's going with this.

You don't. You're just staring at him with an increasingly annoyed expression on your face, wondering how soon you can get out of this conversation.

He takes a deep breath and sighs.

"Hear me out, okay? What if we get married?"

You had actually laughed in his face at first, and Jake was so dead serious about it that he didn't even dwell on the fact that it was the first time you had laughed at something that he'd said.

"Not a chance in hell, Seresin," had been your second response. But that's the thing with pretty guys, they can be awfully convincing.

It all happens so fast that you have metaphorical whiplash. Next thing you know, you're wearing a brand new diamond on your finger and going out to the bar with his entire squad the night before their deployment.

Of course, they're all a bit shocked at first. You would be too. You and Jake hadn't exactly been even remotely civil with each other just a few days prior. But if any of them are suspicious of your's and Jake's sudden union, they don't let on, all too happy to have something to celebrate before they ship out. Fanboy and Payback have each brought their wives and Natasha her girlfriend as well. You suppose you're expected to mingle with them, maybe shed a tear or two over the shared bond that your partners are going across the country, but you can't really find a way to connect with them so you kind of just avoid them altogether. You do feel bad, sitting there without a care in the world while they all try to offer comfort and reassurance to each other. But you don't really know what else to do because it's not like you're exactly sad.

Thankfully Javy, or as he's known, Coyote, stands up and raises his near empty bottle of beer in the air and saves you from anymore uncomfortable sitting. "I'd like to make a toast! To the newlyweds!" You spoke too soon. The table cheers and raises their bottles in response, all of the attention turning to where you and Jake are sitting. Cheeks immediately flushing, you have to refrain from sinking down in your seat. Jake is grinning, accepting the few rough pats on the back that he receives from Rooster beside him.

And just when you think that's the worst it's going to get, it gets worse.

"Kiss!"

You're not sure who starts it, but like teenage boys, the entire squad parrots in unison.

"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!"

At first Jake just laughs and shakes his head good naturedly, shrugging off the insistent urging of his friends, and you think that's going to be the end of it. But the chanting doesn't stop and finally Jake turns towards you. Your face is probably red hot and undeniably panicked. Heart racing, you try to read him in the half second that you're given as he leans and wraps his arm around you. Is he going to kiss you? Are you supposed to kiss him?

Neither option happens. Jake's arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you close into his side and at the last moment, he turns to press a kiss to your cheek. A series of disappointed boos follow but they are drowned out by clapping for the most part. He's uncomfortably close, closer than you ever would have liked to be to Jake Seresin, but you have to remind yourself that it's all for show. When Jake does turn away, you can still feel the warmth of his lips smeared against your cheek. Even so, he hasn't let go of you pressed into his side.

Your heart still racing, you reason with yourself that if Jake can play the part, you might as well too, and under that pretense, allow yourself to hide your face into his shoulder to conceal it's redness. The smell of his cologne washes over you, and oddly enough, you don't hate it. It's subtle, with a hit of what might be amber, and nothing like the overwhelmingly masculine scent that you would have pegged him for.

If Jake finds your sudden willingness to touch him strange, he doesn't comment on it, likely assuming that you're just trying to make this thing between the two of you seem real. You somewhat reluctantly pull away when Coyote's voice raises again.

"And here's to shooting down some fucking MiGs!"

Again, the table erupts into a chorus of cheering and hollering. You still, allowing Jake to fully pull away from your side while the proclamation rings out in your head. It's a very grounding moment, and suddenly you feel very alone sitting at the table. No one seems to have noticed your shift in mood. Maybe you're the only one put off by Javy's statement because this is their reality. There are people who are not coming home from this mission; everyone just likes to assume it won't be them. You know better.

You can't help it, the words just come out of your mouth. "That's a fucked up thing to say."

It's the first time you've really spoken up the entire night and all heads turn towards you. Based on the look in Jake's eyes, which is a bit apprehensive, as if he knows this is headed nowhere good, you realize you probably should have just kept your mouth shut.

Payback shifts uncomfortably in his chair while the rest of the crew glances around the table wearing varying states of confusion. Their gazes shift from you to Jake, as if waiting for some sort of explanation.

Coyote is the first to break the silence. "Look, sweetheart, that's just the way things are. Here in the Navy, that's a badge of honor. Your boy Hangman here is the only one of us with a confirmed air-to-air kill."

"(Y/n)—", Jake attempts to interject, but you're not about to let him explain himself to you in front of all these people.

You set your jaw and swallow back the anger threatening to rise up in your throat. "Yeah, because killing people is so honorable."

Coyote scoffs. "We're just doing our jobs. And if that means taking down a few planes while we're at it, so be it."

"Your job is to protect people," you snap. "There are people out there who have families—"

"Alright, that's enough—" Jake begins to interject for the second time, but this time it's Coyote who interrupts him.

"Come on, man. You're really going to let her say that kinda shit—"

You stand up. "I don't need his permission to—"

"I SAID ENOUGH." This time it's startling enough to cut both of you off. "(Y/n), what is your fucking problem?" Jake snaps.

You flinch at the harshness of his question.

Your eyes travel around the quiet table, where everyone is holding their breath, and then back to Jake. His green eyes reflect a type of pissed off what would be terrifying if you weren't so angry yourself.

A small, logical part of you knows that he has a right to be angry. You've picked a fight for no apparent reason in front of his friends and he hasn't the slightest clue why. It's not his fault your brothers are dead and you blame the Navy for it.

Regardless, that doesn't make up for the fact that you're pissed off by his defense of what Coyote has said. Even though you probably owe him an explanation, you're not about to answer him when he's just yelled at you. You also know that if you don't say something, he's going to and you'd rather die before letting him tell you off in front of all these people. You abruptly push away from the table and storm off for the bar top. You can hear Jake chasing after you.

"(Y/n)."

You ignore him in favor of heading towards the back door of the Hard Deck, pushing past people regardless of whether they're in your way or not. Being slightly more considerate, you can hear Jake moving much slower as he excuses himself through the crowd.

"(Y/n)—"

You come to a stop once you reach the door, spinning on your heels with a fire in your eyes.

"What's my problem?!"

Behind you, you can hear the loud jesting and jeering of his friends back at the table. They're still ruffled with excitement from your outburst, and Coyote's voice follows your retreating back. "Jesus man, get your girl under control."

I'm not his girl, you want to snap. He doesn't own me.

Jake has stopped a few feet away from you.

"What's my fucking problem?! My problem is that your friends are sitting over there calling murder honor."

Jake sighs harshly though his nose. Shaking his head, green eyes looking up, he begins, "He didn't mean—"

"No. I know what he meant, Jake. You're all a bunch of cowards. You're all too goddamn scared to admit that maybe you're not doing as much good as you thought over there, and so you just justify it by saying all killing is good killing, right?" you spit.

His vibrant green eyes harden but he doesn't respond. "That's some real goddamn honor, right, Jake?" you repeat, angrier this time, wanting more than just some watered down reaction from him. If there's one thing that pisses you off about Jake, it's that you've never gotten anything more than what he's conditioned himself to respond with. It's like he's locked up in this stupid box of his and the most you can ever get out of him is a glance. You want him to be angry with you.

"That's enough." His jaw is tight, and you can tell that even despite his lowered voice and rather subdued demeanor, you've hit a nerve.

"Admit it. Admit that you—“

"(Y/n)." His voice adopts a seriousness that you've never heard from him before. It sounds almost dangerous.

Jake steps towards you and for a moment you think you've won. And then in the moment following that, you actually think that he's going to get physically angry with you. Your heart stalls. Jake's a big guy, a naval aviator, and no matter how good he sells himself to be, he could hurt you if he wanted too. You would never have pegged him as someone who would put his hands on a girl, even after only knowing him for a week, but a man is a man, perfectly ironed uniform or not.

Only he doesn't. Instead he steps into your space and leans in closer than you've ever been before. His hand presses into your back, firmly pulling you into his chest so that you have no choice but to shift closer to him, your bodies molding together. "I said that's enough. They can see us arguing."

The press of his mouth to your ear conceals the exchange of your conversation from the listening table. You can smell his cologne on the starched collar of his uniform.

"I don't care if they see us—" Pushing your palm into his chest, you try to reestablish the distance between you, but like a brick wall, Jake doesn't budge.

"You realize that we have to make this look real?" he hisses. "From here on out, they're watching everything we do. The government is watching everything we do. Do you understood that?" His voice is tense, and it sounds more urgent than angry now.

Standing there, you realize his heart is thumping heavily beneath your palm. His body is uncomfortably rigid, like a scared dog waiting for its owner to show up and see the mess he's made. Behind you, the table has gone relatively quite. Rooster murmurs something along the lines of, "It's a little early for there to be trouble in paradise already."

Someone—Coyote—responds, "I don't think he thought this through, man. They won't last two weeks."

Jake's eyes meet yours, and you know he can hear them too. You swallow, trying to relax a little in his grasp. He's right, you have to make this look real, and fighting right off the bat doesn't exactly look good.

"Are they still looking at us?" You finally ask, leery now to even speak too loud.

Jake breathes a sigh of relief beside your ear, taking your sudden quiet as cooperation. "Yeah, just keep talking, okay? Act like we're working it out."

Despite trying to appear more comfortable than you are, you don't move your hand from his chest. The coarse material of his dress whites rises and falls steadily beneath your palm. It's calming in a sense, and you try to focus on its rhythm rather than the fact that you're so close that you can feel the heat of his mouth beside your ear.

"Still looking?" You ask after a few moments pass.

He hums. "Yep."

"Well then what do we do? We can't just stand like this forever." The longer you stand together, the more details you become aware of. Like the fact that his face is freshly shaven against your cheek and that he must have brushed his teeth before this because his breath smells like Listerine.

"Look at me."

"What?" You ask, your brow furrowing as he pulls away. His hand that had been holding your waist firmly in place lifts to grip your jaw.

"You're going to have to kiss me," he explains, glancing briefly over your shoulder.

"What?" Before you can even protest, he's leaning in and pressing his mouth to yours. Without the time to process what exactly is happening given your state of alarm, all you can do is go along with it. His lips mold against yours in what might be the most borderline tame kiss you've ever had. Despite this, you are reluctantly surprised to note how good of a kisser he is. It's just forceful enough to let you know he's in control but not so much that it's unpleasant. His lips are full and taste vaguely of his mouth wash.

You don't kiss him back.

It makes no difference to the group behind you whether you actually kiss or not; they can't tell from this distance and all they have to do is believe it happened. It's more for your own self preservation than anything. It's one thing to play the part, it's another thing to get caught up in it and catch feelings. And with Jake Seresin, that was a dangerous game to play. You'd already felt it, him prying his way under your skin when he'd held you at the table and the smell of his cologne filled your sense. It would be that easy.

To his credit, Jake lingers just long enough to make the kiss believable before pulling away. Even si, it still feels uncomfortably long. He leans back and you don't miss the fact that he wipes his hand across his mouth. "Sorry," he mutters under his breath, looking away.

"Jake..." you begin, immediately feeling bad, but he stops you.

"Whatever, (Y/n). It's fine." He won't look you in the eyes now. You turn to look over your shoulder, desperate to get yourself out of this increasingly bad situation .

"They're not looking," you say, finding the table now amicably chatting with each other rather than focused on the two of you. The sudden PDA must have finally diverted their attention. "...you can step away now."

"Right," he says, clearing his throat awkwardly. Jake drops his hand from your waist and steps back like he's glad to finally put some distance between the two of you. So much for making this look natural.

You return to the table shortly after, in hand to make it appear as if you've made up and smiling tightly when Bob cheerily welcomes you back to break the awkward silence. Once seated, you drop each other's hand beneath the table immediately. The rest of the evening is spent avoiding contributing to conversations that involve the other. If anyone notices, they don't comment on the fact that the two of you hardly look at each other for the rest of the evening, and somehow you manage to put up an otherwise happily married front.

When a few of the guys finally get a little bit too drunk, specifically Rooster, you're all too happy when Natasha calls it a night. Because they ship out the next day, Jake drives you back to the hotel where all of the married couples have rented out a room for the night. Apparently it's a tradition or something. You make the drive in silence. You let him check into the room and carry both of your bags up, disappearing into the small bathroom to splash cool water onto your face. It helps to ease some of the tension from this evening. Leaning over the sink, you watch the water swirl down the drain.

Is this crazy? This is crazy, right?

Jake is sitting on the edge of the bed, head in his hands when you step out. He's taken off his hat and suddenly he seems a lot more fragile than he was a few minutes ago. There's a softness to him, something having been previously concealed by the precise styling of his hair and tense pull of his set jaw. Before you can break the silence, he sucks in an uneasy breath.

"Hey, we need to talk about something. Um, you know... in case I..."

In case he doesn't come back.

You swallow, looking down at the ground. After tonight, after he's kissed you, all of this is starting to feel a little bit to real. What the hell happened to pretending? This was all supposed to be pretend. "Jake, please don't do that—"

He stands up from the end of the bed, and you notice the folded paper in his hands. "This is all of my personal information, you know, bank accounts, passwords, phone numbers... Anything you might need if something happens to me." He says it all as if it's so normal, but you can hear the apprehension in the thinness of his voice.

Already, you're shaking your head as he hands you the letter. "Jake, please. I don't want that." Your heart is pounding and all you want to do in the moment is go back in time and never have agreed to do this in the first place. This was insane. What were you thinking? Like you were going to put yourself through this again?

"(Y/n)—“ Jake tries, interrupting your spiral of thoughts.

"I said NO, Jake," you snap, stepping back from him and the letter. There are tears burning at the backs of your eyes, like you might burst into a hit of hysteria at any moment. "I change my mind. I can't do this..."

Jake's eyes glance from you to the paper in his hand and then back to you, and then he drops his outstretched arm with what sounds like a laugh. "Right. Not like we're fuckin' married or anything." He releases a puff of air from his cheeks and runs his hand through his hair like he's contemplating pulling it out. "Do you know how screwed we are if anyone finds out about this? Do you, (Y/n)??" he asks, his voice rising to a concerning level. "We're done!"

"Jake, I—"

He tosses the letter onto the bed and sits back down with a heavy sigh, looking down at his feet. When he finally speaks again, his voice had lowered to a more acceptable volume. "It's a bit too late for you to back out now. If the Navy finds out about this— if anyone one finds out about this, I could lose my job. We could both go to jail."

Silence settles over the two of you as Jake sits on the bed, staring at his feet, and you stand there in the middle of the room, willing your heart to stop pounding in your chest. You need to get out of here before your heart implodes. You turn and grab your coat from by the door.

"Where are you going?" Jake asks, his voice tired and annoyed.

"I need some air," you say, shrugging on your coat and opening the door. He doesn't try to stop you on the way out.

You regret the decision the second that you walk out the door. Now that the sun is gone, it's freezing outside. Your original plan had been to go for a walk to clear your head but you doubt now you'd make it very far. Walking down the stairs and out into the nearly empty parking lot, you look around, considering whether or not you would survive the trek to a gas station. When you realize you've left your phone back in the room, you decide against it. You aren't dumb enough to walk in the dark alone. Instead you head towards Jake's truck, which is parked out by itself at the end of the lot. To your surprise, you find it's unlocked and the door swings open when you tug on the handle. You climb in and the switch to lock the door behind you. Even the inside of the car is cold but at least it's out of the wind. You hug your knees into your check and tuck your chin into them, curling up in the driver's seat to keep warm.

And then you just sob.

It's the kind of sobbing that starts long and drawn out and then escalates into the rapid breathing that happens when you can't get enough air into your lungs and it feels as though there's an entire golf ball stuck in your throat. You haven't cried this hard since you were a kid—since your first brother died. You didn't cry the second time, didn't allow yourself to feel anything the second time because you knew there wasn't going to be anyone to pull you back together if you did.

At least being away from all of this had allowed you some time to forget, even if for just a moment, that they were gone without having to be constantly reminded. You had moved to put as much distance between yourself and the Navy as possible. Because that way life wouldn't get the chance to take another person from you in the same way. Looking at the ring on your finger now, that's exactly the opposite of what you had just done. This was just supposed to be until you could get back on your feet, and if it helped Jake out in the process then great. Now that you think about it, it was stupid of you to think that you would be able to make it through this with out catching feelings for him.

Now you're going to lose him too.

You cry until you almost make yourself sick and then some more. Your sobbing is interrupted every few minutes when you choke on your own air and have to swallow the golf ball that is lodged in your throat so that you can breathe. You're not sure how long you sit there just crying. Surely at least an hour has passed. By the time your sobbing has slowed, your head hurts and your chest aches enough to be sore.

Knock knock knock

You jump at the noise, head shooting up from between the bracket of your knees. It's dark outside, the parking lot just barley lit in a wash of grey by the moon. Even so, you can make out Jake's broad figure in the darkness.

"Open the damn door." His order comes out in a puff of frosty condensation that warms a spot on the window, his voice only partially muffled by the barrier. His shoulders are hunched against the cold, the upturned collar of his coat doing little to protect him from the brutal conditions.

For a while you just stare at him through the window, swallowing back the spit in your throat.

"Open the door," he repeats, knowing better than to think that you can't hear him. If only locking yourself in his car was the solution of all of your problems. Reluctantly, you reach over and click the lock, slowly rolling down the window.

After it stops, you stare at each other through the open car window, separated only by the frame of door that he could now easily reach out and open. His soft brown hair is mushed and in disarray, nose and cheeks tinted pink form the chill. The pleasant green of his eyes is mostly hidden as he squints against the wind.

Finally, you suck in a breathe, your chest shuddering. "I cannot do this," you stress, all of the fear that you've been shoving down now presenting itself in a singular sentence.

Jake sighs, his face softening to reflect a look of sympathy. "Look, I promise you, it's not that bad. You'll come with me to the carrier when I ship out tomorrow, we'll hug each other goodbye, and then you won't even have to see me for a couple of months. It'll be like none of this ever happened. And when I come back... we'll figure it out. Okay?" His voice is soft and understanding, like he's talking to a child.

You stare at the dashboard, your stomach still churning anxiously. "That's not what I'm... It's not you, Jake." Quite the opposite. "I lost my brothers to the Navy. Both of them. And I don't think I can take losing anyone else."

Immediately Jake's face falls as he puts everything into place. Your initial distaste for him, your furious outburst at Hard Deck, your reluctance to have have anything to do with the Navy... "I—God, I'm so sorry, (Y/n). I had no idea."

You shrug, calming down now that you've finally let go over everything that you've been holding in. "I asked Natasha not to tell you. I just thought that I could get over it so what was the point in even telling you?"

The wind blowing into through the open window is bone chilling and so you can only imagine how cold Jake is standing outside the car. For a while there's only the sound of his quiet breathing.

"Nothing's going to happen to me, (Y/n)," he says into the darkness.

"How can you be so sure?"

Hands shoved into his pockets, body braced against the wind, he shrugs. "I'm not. But if I didn't tell myself that every morning, I'd never get out of bed."

Sighing, you pull the handle on the inside of the door. "C'mon, it's fucking cold out there."

Jake huffs as if to say, you're telling me, and grabs the handle to pull open the door. Only instead of climbing in, he steps further inside the door and grabs your head in his cold hands so that your faces are mere inches apart. "I mean it, kid. I'm not going to leave you, alright? You just gotta trust me."

Looking into his eyes, you know he means it. For the second time since you've known Jake, you really see him. Standing before you is the same man that you saw in both of your brothers. Granted, they were much younger than he is now, but you get it. You'd been trying to see him as anyone else other than the brothers you lost, praying that it would hurt less, but you can't make someone into something they're not.

"Okay," you whisper. "I trust you, Jake."

You're awake hours earlier than what you're used to in the morning, but that's only because you had glanced at the alarm clock at half past three and realized that you only had few hours left with Jake. The both of you had returned to the hotel room and changed in comfortable silence, slipping into the single bed together without a word. Jake had reached over and pulled you into him without so much as a second thought. Now his body is draped heavily on top of yours, his nose tucked into your hair as your fingers trace along the bare skin of his exposed back.

You switch between staring at the ceiling and watching the numbers change on the alarm clock, trying to think about anything other than the fact that Jake would wake up in about an hour, you'd drop him off at the carrier at six, and that would be it. You'd only just gotten him and now you were going to have to let him go.

When Jake's alarm does go off, you're more emotional than you thought you would be, but Jake seems to be fine, dutifully putting on his uniform and carefully packing all of his bags, so you try to put on a brave face. You move slowly, dragging out the process of getting dressed as long as possible just so that there's no excuse to leave for the dock any sooner than you have too. After you're done getting ready, you watch him shave once and then again for good measure before he ultimately decides that you've both wasted enough time putting off the inevitable.

The drive there is silent as well and would have been unbearable had Jake not reached over the consol to reassuringly squeeze your hand. He doesn't let go of it until you pull into the crowded port. Between people trying to get their things on board and a bunch of teary goodbyes, it's beyond you how you manage to find the Dagger Squad in the midst of the chaos. Fanboy and Payback are saying goodbye to their families while Rooster and Natasha chatter excitedly with an older man also dressed in naval attire, the name plate on his uniform identify him as 'Maverick'. It's all so overwhelming that only when Jake squeezes your hand again do you realize that it's time for you to say goodbye.

Reluctantly, you turn towards him, interlocked hands swinging between the two of you. He does his best to smile, and to his credit, it's not entirely fake. "Well," he sighs. "This it it."

"For now," you add, returning his soft smile as you look up at him.

"For now," Jake agrees, his smile brightening now that you seem to be okay also. He pauses, just staring down at you for a moment before he adds, "Are you going to let me kiss you?"

You smile, answering him this time without hesitation. "Only if you keep your promise."

Jake's large hand comes up to cup your cheek, cradling your chin in his palm as he leans down to you. "I promise," he murmurs before pressing his mouth to yours, perhaps even more tender than he did the first time at Hard Deck. Only this time you reciprocate it, chasing his mouth as you lift up on your toes and run your fingers through the back of his hair. Groaning, Jake sighs into the kiss. It's dizzying and you don't know how it's possible to put all of the passion that you've been holding back into one kiss, but somehow you do. His lips are soft and you have to shove down the urge to grip his hair and demand him for more, because it by some miracle occurs to you that you're on a ship in front of hundreds people.

Jake's the one to pull away, his eyes shining and pink lips slightly more swollen than they were a minute ago. You can't help but laugh, wiping away some of your lipgloss from his mouth with your thumb. "Goodbye, Jake."

"Goodbye, (Y/n). And don't forget, I'll see you soon."

#top gun maverick #top gun fic #topgun maverick #hangman top gun #hangman x reader #jake hangman fic #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x y/n

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thebearer · 7 months

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i feel like donna would be like “that’s who you’re gonna end up with? someone who posts on instagram, and you’re a michelin chef?” and carmen just barks back

“so you do all the work… and she takes a picture and posts it? wow, so you’re gonna make all the money, do all the work, and she’s just gonna spend it, carmy? i’m sorry i just… I don’t get it.” donna slurs, the table eerily quiet. “you know, claire she’s-she’s got a real job. she’s a doctor and she’d make money. not just lean on you.”

“hey, mom, let’s not do this.” sugar is incredibly uncomfortable. carmen’s got that look in his eyes that he might kill donna, you look like you want to crawl under the table and die, and everyone else looks like they’d rather be anywhere else.

“it’s a really hard job, d. harder than it looks, and she’s real good at it. the best. knows the algorithms and how to do everything, and-“ richie is trying too. he’s gotten used to helping sugar out, being her right hand man.

“-taking a picture?” donna scoffs, wine splashing over the lip of her glass, her nasally laugh mocking you from down the table. “you’re telling me she’s,” a long, red manicured nail is pointed in your direction. “making mortgage payments on that new, big house by taking a photo? please, you can’t make that much-”

carmen shoves the table, plates and silverware clanging furiously at the movement. “alright, sugar, I tried. i fuckin’ tried, and-and I told you if she started this shit I was done.” carmen sneers. “and she makes more than me, sometimes, alright? when we were gettin’ started, her ‘pictures’ kept our lights on. she works which is more than you can say, ma. when’s the last time you had a listing, huh?“

#thebearer #bearblahs #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear #carmy berzatto #donna berzatto #sugar berzatto #natalie berzatto #richie jerimovich #carmen berzatto angst

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luveline · 1 year

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ARE YOU TAKING REQUESTS FOR HOTCH????? I-OH MY please write super fluffy domestic vibes with hotch? Just the reader being super tired late at night waiting for him and still taking care of him when he gets home? Like taking his coat and shoes off and offering him a hot bath?

Maybe he just can't help but melt and get all soft around her?

You can ignore this if you wish to! Dw! Love your writing<3

thank you for your request!! hotch x tired fem!reader

Your head feels cloudy and heavy as a bowling ball when you hear the apartment door creak open. You lift your head, your neck protesting its soreness, and wipe the little line of dribble from your chin as Aaron turns the gentle corner into the lounge.

"You're still up," he says.

"Can't let my man come home to nothing," you say, or try to say, rubbing your eyes as you stand on wobbly footing.

He swoops in for a hug. You love this part of being with him. You'd thought it was the drunkenness of a new relationship at first, but it never went away. When it's you and him alone, Aaron adores you unapologetically.

"You're so tired," he says, his voice tipping gently into teasing.

"I'm not," you argue.

He doesn't believe you, clearly, a light behind his eyes that says, Yeah, right. You don't need him to believe you to take care of him, unfortunately for him. You lean back in the circle of his arms and give his neck a light, loving scratch, fingertips curving down his throat to the snug collar of his t-shirt. You work your way into his perfectly knotted tie and ease it loose.

His hand does some unworking all its own, kneading into the rigid line of your aching back with care. "You're tense," he says.

"I'm a bit sore," you admit.

"Sleeping sitting up does that to you." Profiler.

"Stop, stop cheating," you say, pulling the tie from his neck and laying it over your shoulder. "I hate this button. I don't know how you get it undone without me, it's always snug."

"Good thing you're here to do it for me," he says. Trust him to guard his secrets.

You pop his first button, then his second, and rub the red indent the starched collar has pressed into his neck with over-exaggerated concern.

"You might be better at pretending than I am, but I can still tell when you're tired, Hotchner."

He tightens his hold around your waist. "What did we say about Hotchner?" he asks, his voice rough and warm at once. He sounds as though he could tip into salaciousness if you only did it first.

"I don't remember," you say.

"I'm sure you don't."

He grabs your cheek. Grab is too cruel a word, but cup is too soft. He takes your face into his hand, the breadth of his palm drowning your face, warm and solid and breathtakingly tender as he turns your face and leans in. He kisses the corner of your mouth.

Your breath catches as he kisses lower. His lips trail to your jaw, just under it, the skin beneath your ear.

"I made you dinner," you say, pulling him back carefully, your hand in his hair. He doesn't fight it. "I know you're hungry."

"I'm trying to seduce you," he says, clear entertainment in his tone. You love this Aaron most of all, much better than his dominant work personality, or his quieter seductions. Playful, loving Aaron is his sweetest mode.

"I know, and I'm trying to make sure you don't keel over and die before you reach fifty."

"That won't happen. You're keeping me young."

"Oh, really?" You squeeze his bicep. "How am I doing that?"

"I'd tell you, but I don't think you're in the mood," he says, still playful.

He really does sound younger when he's with you. You've heard him sometimes down the phone giving orders or correcting his colleagues, and it's different to this. He lives for his job, but he's happier when he's with you. It's not something you take lightly.

"I could be in the mood," you say.

He chuckles and kisses your cheek. "Not tonight. You're falling asleep on your feet, and I'm not far behind you."

"You'll eat dinner though, won't you?"

"If you eat with me."

Aaron absolutely won't let you take his shoes off, which is a disappointment but unsurprising. He does, however, allow you to flit around him at the kitchen table, warming his plate and pouring him a small glass of scotch. By some miracle he eats all of it, and only drinks a sip of the scotch by another. He trades his short glass for a bottle of water, and his dark suit for freshly washed pyjamas, trailing after you in the dimly lit hallway to your shared bedroom with his fingers woven in yours obligingly.

You wonder if he'd let you brush his teeth for him. Weirdly, you know if you asked him to, he'd brush your teeth for you. You can imagine it, your chin pinched in one hand as he looks down at you, his other guiding gentle circles. You file the daydream away for another night and get through this one easily enough, you and Aaron hip to hip, his elbow on your shoulder.

Aaron lifts his hand, drawing a circle around your ear absentmindedly. After what seems to be an internal debate, he takes your ear lobe between his index and middle fingertips and gives it a soft tug.

You glare at him, toothbrush between your lips, toothpaste foaming at the corners of your mouth. His returning grin makes you feel like the prettiest girl on Earth.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

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leossmoonn · 6 months

Text

five nights with mike (2) | mike schmidt

read part one

summary - a romance develops between you and mike at freddy’s

warnings / includes - reader is fem. established feelings. natural time skips. very loosely follows the plot of the movie but i didn’t want to watch it again for this lol. eventual smut - piv, oral f receiving, brief handjob

————

18+ under the cut

“thank you so much for picking me up. you might have to tomorrow, too.”

mike glances at you, giving you a small smile. “it’s no problem.”

you buckle yourself in and set your purse between your legs on the ground. “how is abby?”

“great. she asks about you all the time,” mike chuckles. “oh,” you sigh, putting your hand on your chest. “she’s adorable. maybe sometime we can eat lunch or something together.”

his heart spikes and he nods enthusiastically. “that-that would be awesome. yeah and, uh, i can pay this time. i can even make it, too.”

“mike schmidt cooks, huh?” you grin at him. “i only know how to make a few things, but i like cooking in general. just give me a recipe and i’ll try my best,” he says.

“mmm. well, i love a man who can cook,” you remark, looking out the window. heat creeps up mike’s neck and reaches his ears. “just let me know what kind of food you like, and i’ll make it. i’m not a trained chef or anything, though, so if it’s bad then i don’t say i didn’t warn you.”

“i bet you’re better than me. i personally like baking better,” you say.

“baking is cool, but it takes too long and i’m an impatient person.”

“well, how about you cook and i’ll bring the dessert.”

“oh, you don’t have to do that,” mike shakes his head. “you’re already so busy with work.”

“it’s no trouble. i’ve stated to get later shifts at my day job. it means i work later, but more time to sleep and some more time reserved for things like baking.”

“that’s great to hear. do you feel like you sleep better now?”

“no,” you snort. “if anything, i feel worse, but that’s just my brain. i can tell my body appreciates it.”

mike hums in response. “tonight you can sleep the majority of the shift if you’d like.”

“and leave you all alone? no. after what happened to abby, i’m kind of scared to sleep there.”

mike rolls his bottom lip in between his teeth. “don’t let abby scare you. she has lots of imaginary friends even before i took her there, which won’t be happening again.”

“right,” you sigh. “it’s just that i swore i heard other voices. like a man’s voice.”

mike feels the hairs raise up on his arms even under his jacket. “maybe tonight we can scope it out.”

“sure. hopefully we don’t die. imagine those fur things coming to life and murdering us,” you shiver in thought.

mike chuckles, “that would be wild.”

mike parks his car at the pizzeria. you grab your purse and lead the way in. as you step inside, there’s a cracking sound. you look under your shoe, seeing a bunch of glass on the floor.

“holy shit,” you gasp. you look at the diner, seeing it totally trashed.

“fuck, um. yeah, steve mentioned this to me earlier. i-i must’ve forgot,” mike says sheepishly. he really did forget. he must’ve been so clouded by his excitement to see you, he scraped his conversation with steve completely.

“it’s okay. it’s not like you warning me would’ve changed what happened.” you can’t believe your eyes. it seems like every table in the diner is flipped over or broken. glass litters the floor and you’re thankful you chose to wear sneakers tonight and not slippers like you have been. “what did happen?” you turn to mike.

“i guess a bunch of people came in here after we left and trashed it. i’m not sure why. i swore we locked all the doors.”

“yeah, i thought we did, too. we wanted to get abby out of here fast, though, so we could’ve missed something.”

“yeah, that’s what i was thinking, too,” mike sighs. “i guess you really won’t be getting any rest tonight.”

“it’s alright,” you shrug. “i just don’t know if we’ll be able to get the diner back to its original state.”

“it’s not like anybody but us comes here,” mike jokes. you smile and nod, “right.” you set your purse down on one of the booth tables that isn’t destroyed. “let’s get to it.”

mike and you spend most of the night cleaning. you were shocked to find even more mess in the hallway and kitchen areas. everything was going smoothly until you find what you think is blood splattered all over the storage room window.

“mike?” you call out. there’s no answer and a pang of worry hits your chest. “mike?” you shout louder.

“coming!” you hear him. fast footsteps echo in the hallway and you can’t help but feel creeped out. you always thought this place was weird and dinky. you only accepted the job because you found out another person was working, and while you feel very save with mike, you just can’t shake the feeling that there’s something seriously wrong with this place.

“what’s up?” mike asks. you point to the window and his eyes widen. “oh,” he says. “um, maybe that’s the blood of the person destroying the place?”

“maybe. but it’s from the inside.”

“yeah,” mike gulps. “we can tell steve about it or something. we were hired to babysit this place, not be a clean up crew.”

“right,” you nod. he grabs your hand gently and you feel butterflies erupt in your tummy. “let’s go back to the office. we only have a couple more hours here. we can relax from cleaning then just be done.”

you smile in agreement, letting him lead you out of the hallway. soon your mind wanders away from the eerie feelings. you talk about everything and nothing. you laugh at every terrible joke he makes. he listens intently to stories about your family. with each minute, it seems like you two get closer — both emotionally and physically. by the end of the shift, you’re sitting knee-to-knee. your foot is brushing up against his jeans, feeling the muscle of his calf. both of your hands are rested on the desk and his fingers routinely brush up against yours. soon, they’re basically intertwined. you don’t know how they got there, but you’re not complaining.

“looks like we made it without dying,” mike says. you grin, “until tomorrow.”

“shall i take you home, then?” he asks. your face falls and he catches it, but you’re quick to mask it. “yeah, sure.” the disappointment seeps into you, but you know you’ll see him again soon. you just wish you could have more time with him.

you both walk out, triple checking that everything is shut and locked. the car ride home is silent, but it’s comfortable. you glance at mike every so often, admiring him from the passenger seat. his hair is tousled from running his hands in it. his eyebrows are furrowed as he focuses on driving, his eyes moving every so often as he watches the road. your eyes trial down the shape of his nose, noticing the tiniest bump towards the top.

dread fills you as he pulls into your driveway. you purse your lips as you try to think of what will allow you to spend more time with him.

“what’re your plans for today?” you ask. “nothing much. abby’s with a babysitter right now. thankfully, it’s the weekend so i don’t have to rush to take her to school,” he answers.

“ah,” you hum. he looks to you, seeing your face in deep concentration as you stare at your lap. “what about you? you work later today, right?”

“yep. at 2,” you say. he glances at the dashboard clock that reads 6:30 am. “you have a while then. are you tired?” he asks.

“not really. honestly, staying up all night kind of gave me a boost of energy.”

“me, too,” he nods. you can’t help but sigh. there’s no good reason for him to come inside or even for you to go back to his house. you figure you just have to wait until tonight.

“thank you again for driving me. are you able to pick me up later?” you ask.

“of course,” he nods. you smile, “great! i really appreciate it.”

“it’s really no problem,” he smiles. you start to get out of the car, but he stops you. “hey, can i, uh, use your bathroom really quickly?”

“yeah,” you nod a little too much. “thank you,” he says, stepping out of his car. you unlock the front door, trying to remember if you left your house a complete mess or not. you’re relieved to see that you did not.

mike looks around your house. it looks identical to his from the outside, but the inside is a whole different story. he wonders if you hired an interior decorator because of how beautiful it looks.

“the bathroom is down the hall to the right,” you say. he turns to look at you, then to the hallway. “thanks,” he says, making his way to the closed door.

you take off your shoes, placing them neatly on the small shoe rack you have by the door. there are some dirty dishes on the coffee table in your living room from your last meal, but you’re sure he doesn’t mind. everyone has dirty dishes laying out from time to time. you take the opportunity to load them in your dishes washer, re-folding some blankets and fluffing up the couch pillows.

you’re sat on your couch when mike comes out.

“are you hungry?” you ask. “no,” he lies. he wants to stay, but he doesn’t want to be a burden to you.

“oh, come on. we haven’t eaten in like, eight hours. at least i haven’t. i have some cinnamon rolls that would love to be baked.”

“would they, though?”

you giggle and stand up. “will your babysitter mind staying a little late?”

“i’ll call her,” mike says. he takes out his phone, dialing his home phone. it takes a moment or two for someone to pick up. “hello?” abby’s voice echos.

“hey, abby. is max there?” he asks. “yes. she just got me breakfast from mcdonald’s,” abby says.

“oh, that’s nice of her. do you mind if i speak to her real quick?”

“okay. max!”

mike quickly pulls the phone away as abby yells into the mic.

“hello?” max says. “hey, max. i, uh, got caught up at the pizzeria. are you able to stay and watch her for an hour or so?” mike asks.

“yeah, of course,” she says quickly. “awesome. i’ll pay you extra, i promise,” mike says.

“it’s okay, mike. I’ll see you when you get back.”

“yep,” he hangs up, waking into the kitchen where you’re setting out the dough.

“ah, these are pre-packaged,” mike remarks. “nobody has time to make cinnamon rolls by scratch,” you say.

“says the person who likes baking. or do you just like fake baking?”

“this is not fake baking!” you exclaim. “i am putting it in the oven and going to put icing over it.”

“whatever you say.” mike leans against your counter, crossing his arms over his chest. you can’t help but notice him flex his biceps.

“i bet you fake cook,” you quip. his brows raise in question. “and what does that entail?”

“you put a foam cup full of ramen and warm it up in the microwave.”

“those are delicious.”

“i mean, yeah, but it’s so hard to put an egg in it and sometimes the noodles aren’t soft enough.”

“well, i usually cook my ramen on the stovetop. so if i ever make you that, you’ll know it’s real cooking.”

you laugh at his joke, your eyes flickering from the rolls to him a few times. you think about doing this again with him, next time with him making you food. you think about being in his house, seeing how he lives, looking at the pictures he may have on the walls, or lack thereof. you think about sitting on his couch and watching a movie, shoulders and knees touching. you wonder what his room looks like, what color his sheets are. you want to know what he looks like sleeping and waking up. you want to know what he looks like on top of you and between your thighs.

“what else do you know how to make?” you ask.

“chicken pot pie.”

“pot pie? wow.” you are genuinely impressed.

“i’ve been told i make a mean stir fry, too.”

“you’ll have to make it for me then. does abby like your cooking?” you ask, putting the pan in the preheated oven.

“only if it’s spaghetti and waffles.”

“i see that she’s a simple girl.”

“food-wise, she is. but i don’t mind. they’re both easy things to make.”

“it’s sweet.” you turn to him, leaning against the counter diagonal from him. “how you take care of her. she’s lucky to have you.”

“truth is, i’m lucky to have her. we don’t always get along, but she keeps me going.”

“that is adorable,” you awe. “i am an only child, so i envy people who have siblings.”

“it’s not all sunshine and rainbows, but it’s nice just having someone there.”

“seems like it,” you say. you move to your coffee maker, turning it on and finding a k-cup to use. “would you like some coffee?”

“i would,” he nods. “can you grab us some mugs? they’re in the cabinet behind your head,” you direct.

he does so, placing the cups on the counter. he moves to slide it to you at the same time you put your hand on it. your heart skips a beat. your eyes shoot to his and you see they’re already on you. you watch his eyes trail down to your lips and the back up to your own eyes. you feel weak in the knees as he stares at you through his lashes. his eyes are wide and full of innocence, but there’s a hint of mischief in them as his pupils begin to widen.

“thank you,” you say, your voice coming out barely above a whisper.

“mhm,” he hums, his voice low and smooth. “how do you like your coffee?” you ask.

“one sugar and a splash of milk or creamer. whatever you have,” he answers.

“i have some creamer in the fridge.” you head towards your refrigerator. he watches you as you bite your lip as you search for the creamer. you shut the fridge door gently, setting the creamer next to the coffee maker. you open the cabinet above of you, grabbing a couple packets of sugar. he keeps his eyes on you as the silence settles in.

this feels so nice. being with you in your house feels nice. being close to you, spending time with you feels nice. mike wants to do this every day. he wants to fall asleep holding you close like he did the other night in the office. he wants to live with you and make dinner for you, having it await your arrival after your day shift. he wants to wake up next to you, tracing circles on your skin until they eventually become replaced with kisses. he wants to know how you’d look on top of him, riding his dick and face.

soon the cinnamon rolls are done. you take them out of the oven, waiting a few moments before icing them.

“you’re pretty good at icing,” you say. “thank you. these are kind of hard to ice since they’re so warm,” he chuckles.

“yeah, you’re supposed to wait, but i’m starving.” you take a bite into the roll, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. mike can’t help but notice that his jeans feel uncomfortably tight all the sudden. he takes a bite of his roll, making a note of how good they are.

“you can never go wrong with these,” you say. you take another bite, some icing sticking to the top of your lip. “you have a little bit of something here.” mike’s pinky points to his own lips.

“oh, god,” you laugh, heat creeping up your neck from embarrassment. “i should’ve warned you, i’m a messy eater.” you take a napkin and wipe it over the bottom half of your lip.

mike smiles and sets his roll down. “here, let me.”

you nod and place the napkin down, his fingers brushing against yours once more. he moves closer to you, leaning his head in to where your foreheads are almost touching. his gaze is trained on your lips as he cups your face, swiping his thumb over your lips. you don’t realize you’re holding in a breath until he looks into your eyes.

“thank you,” you manage to say. your throat feels dry all of the sudden and you feel hot all over. “no problem,” he says.

the air is thick between you two. you’re so close, closer than you’ve ever been. you can feel the heat radiating off of him. when you inhale you can smell him. he smells like the woods, spearmint, and vanilla. you can recognize the spearmint smell from his car. you wonder if the woodsy smell is natural and if the vanilla is the scent of his body wash.

he doesn’t move is hand away and you’re sure you don’t want him to. his eyes move across your face, not sure whether to stare at your lips or your eyes. he sucks in a deep breath, swallowing slowly. you watch as his adam’s apple bobs up and down, his jaw becoming more sharp as he bites down on his back teeth for a moment.

“can i kiss you?” his voice is low and warm. your eyes flutter in surprise, your heart following in suit. his big brown eyes stare into yours, holding your eyes hostage.

“yes,” you finally say. he slowly moves in, his hand moving upwards to touch the nape of your neck. you try to control your breathing as you watch his eyes flicker from yours to your lips. he brushes his bottom lip against yours, causing a thrill to run up your spine. his head moves back slightly, but he makes up for it with closing the gap between you two.

kissing him feels like a weight taken off your shoulders. all the tension you’ve felt releases as you move your lips with his. he kissed you so gently, a little too soft, like he’s holding back. after a few seconds he pulls away, both of you catching your breaths.

“i’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” he says. you smile, grabbing his free hand. “well, don’t stop.”

he kisses you again, this time harder. it’s almost bruising. he grabs your waist, holding you tighter and closer. you take a shower breath and his tongue slips into your mouth. you moan softly as his hand slivers down to your ass and squeezing the soft tissue. your arms wrap around him and your weave your fingers through his hair. it’s so soft like you’ve always imagined.

“can i do this?” mike breathes against your lips. your eyes are still closed as he slides both hands up your shirt. you answer him by pulling away completely and taking your shirt off, revealing your nude-colored bra. you expect his eyes to drop down immediately, but you watch as they follow your jaw and down your neck. they sweep across the area where your collarbones are, then finally landing on your breasts.

his hands walk up your sides, making you laugh a little bit. he smiles at you, his eyes jumping up to yours now. you can’t help but squeeze your thighs just by the way he’s looking at you. he attaches his lips to yours once more, but it’s not long before he starts to trail down to your neck and your chest. you unhook your bra, letting it fall off your shoulders to the ground. you lean against the counter as he cups your tits, thumbs circling over your hardened nipples. you let out a little gasp as he pinches them, looking up at you to try and gage your reaction. he closes his lips around one nipple, flicking it with his tongue. you sigh this time, your hand falling to his head.

you feel his hands skim down to your pants. his fingers hook under the waistband, feeling over the cotton of your underwear. you shift your weight, feeling that the tension is almost unbearable. it’s painful as you watch him slowly slide down your pants. he runs his tongue down the valley of your breasts, pressing wet all over your tummy before landing at the top of your underwear. you step out of your pants, feeling the cold air hit your legs, making you shiver.

his left hand grabs the underside of your thigh. his hand is so warm against your cold skin. it feels nice, but not as nice as the feeling you get when he runs the pads of his fingertips down your underwear. he skims just over your slit, feeling some of the wetness that has collected. you want to slap the smirk off his face, but it makes your stomach flip.

“is there anything i should do?” he asks. now he looks all innocent, staring at you with wide eyes and raised brows.

“i could think of a few things,” you say. “mm, like what?” he inquires. his fingers are at the side of your panties. you watch in anticipation as you wait for him to pull them to the side. “tell me what you want,” mike says.

you swallow hard. “i… i want your fingers inside of me. and your mouth on me.”

you can see all of his top teeth as he smiles. “that’s all you had to say.”

you spread your legs, using the counter as a crutch. he pushes your underwear aside, slipping one finger into you. heat creeps up your neck at the sound of your cunt gushing. he slides it out momentarily, finding your clit to moisten the area. he slides two fingers in this time, curling them inside of you. he watches you again, seeing your lips part and chest heave up and down. you feel your brain go numb as he keeps his eyes locked on yours as he brings his mouth to your cunt.

“ohmygod,” you rush out, your head lolling back. his tongue flicks your clit, sucking every so often. you lead so far back your back is supported by your cabinets. one of your hands hold his head, your fingers gripping his hair. your other hand is digging your fingernails into his clothes shoulder.

“fuck, mike,” you gasp as he quickens the pace of his fingers ever so slightly. he hits that spot so perfectly, and you can’t help but squeeze your thighs around his head. his tongue starts making stronger strokes on your clit. not enough to make it hurt, but enough to make you feel like you’re already about to orgasm.

you’ve talked to mike about past lovers. you know he’s had a couple and for only short periods of time. you assumed he would be experienced, but not an expert, which you had no problem with. he’s sure as hell proving you wrong now.

“don’t stop, don’t stop,” you breathe out. you place one hand next to you on the counter, gripping the marble top so hard you think it might leave an imprint in your palm. “mike, mike,” you warn him, your throat constricting and heart racing. your toes curl in your socks and you clench your thighs around his head one last time.

you have to push his head away, seeing the dazed look on his face. his fingers exit you and he sucks them dry. you visibly gulp, feeling warmth fill your lower stomach as you watch him. all you can hear is your heartbeat in your ears and your heavy breathing.

“good?” he asks. “yes,” you nod enthusiastically. “so good.”

you grab him by his shirt, crashing your lips onto his. you taste yourself on his lips. both of your hands drop down to his jeans, undoing his belt quickly. his heart skips in excitement as his pant pool at his ankles. you palm him through his brief, feeling how hard he it. it must be painful, you think, and it is. he was already hard from the moment he kissed you, and it didn’t get any better when giving you head.

you pull away and wet your hand with your spit, shoving your hand down his boxers. both of his hands grip your waist as you wrap your fingers around his length, pumping it in your hands, squeezing every so often. your other hand reached down to his balls, massaging them gently, but at the same pace as your other hand.

“shit,” mike groans, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. he already feels like he’s going to blow a load. he hasn’t had sex in a long while, but he didn’t his stamina was this terrible. he knows it’s you, though. you’re the reason why his fingertips are digging into your skin. you’re the reason why his pre-cum is leaking all over your hand. you’re the reason why when he feels like he’s close to coming, he stops you because he wants — no, needs — to feel what it’s like inside of you.

“do you have a condom?” mike breaths out. “yeah,” you say. you quickly make your way to one of your drawers, pulling out a packet. “these work?” you ask.

“yes,” he nods. “you just keep condoms laying around?”

“easy access,” you shrug.

“you fuck everybody in your kitchen, then?”

“only my hot co-workers.”

he blushes at your comment. you give him a wink, tearing open the condom. you hand it to him and he slides it on. you grab the bottle of lube you keep handy as well, slathering it onto the condom, giving mike a playful squeeze that elicits a low groan. he takes you by the waist and kisses you, spinning you around so now yours against the counter again. you take your panties off and hop on, the cold marble feeling nice against your blazing hot skin.

you lean back, watching mike line himself up with you. he looks into your eyes then back down, pushing himself inside of you. you gasp softly, your grip on his shoulders tightening. he starts off slow at first, basking in your warmth and tight walls. but soon, he’s fucking you. he slides his arm under your back and pulls your bottom half towards him, causing the angle to change. he hikes one of your legs up, allowing him to lean into you more and just hit that spot deep inside of you deliciously.

“mike,” you pant into his shoulder, holding yourself close to him. he makes your eyes flutter shut and roll back farther with each thrust. you pulsate around him with every whimper and moan that comes out of his mouth. you soon feel that familiar feeling bubble in your lower stomach.

mike rests his head against your cabinet, looking down and watching as he slides in and out of you. his grip on your sides tighten as he tries to focus on other things than you, but he can’t. you’re just too sexy. the way you’re moaning in his ear, chanting his name with each thrust. the way your nails begin to scrape against his shoulder blades. not to mention, you look amazing just sitting on the countertop. he can’t not think about you and the fact that he’s inside of you.

that’s all he needs to finish.

you wrap both legs around him as you come. your head leans back, your eyes screwing shut. he comes with you, stopping after a few slow thrusts. he slides out of you, chest heaving up and down. you squeeze your legs together and swear you can still feel him inside of you.

he ties the condom and throws it into your trash can. you have a big smile on your face when he turns to look at you. he can’t help but mirror it.

“how, uh, was that?” he asks, suddenly becoming bashful. “amazing,” you breathe out. “how did i do?” you ask teasingly.

“you were…. perfect.” his pupils are blown and you can’t tell where his iris starts. his words make your body feel even more warm. you jump off your counter and put your clothes back on, making a note to wipe off your counter with lysol soon.

“i should get back home to abby,” mike says. your smile falls, but you understand. “she probably misses you.”

“probably not,” he chuckles. “well, i know i will.” you take his hands into yours.

“you’ll see me soon,” he says, his thumb tracing circles on your skin.

“i will,” you smile, starting to feel excited again. you walk him outside, leaning on the hood of his car. “i hope to do this again sometime,” you say.

“me, too. maybe sometime before work i can make you dinner?” he suggests.

you’re smiling so hard your cheeks are starting to hurt. “i would love that.”

————

taglist

@celestbarnes

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader smut #mike schmidt smut #fnaf #josh hutcherson x reader #mike schmidt x you

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kairiscorner · 10 months

Note

Could you write an angsty hobie x reader where they both get into an argument? Everything is up to you!

ask and you shall receive anon :> i eat angst up for breakfast, lunch, snacks, dinner, and late night snack and dessert. i hope you like this !!

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

sometimes, you can't make it all better. — hobie brown x reader (angst)

summary: you loved hobie dearly, and you loved how despite how shitty the world was, he kept trying to make it a safer place for you two. but when you see him beat himself up over almost losing you... you can't recognize the boy you once loved in those frightened, hopeless eyes of his. pairing: hobie brown x gn!reader genre: angst. word count: 2,481 author's note: ok, i feel like i haven't been doing enough with my interpretation of hobie in more daring ideas an prompts, so i've wondered what he'd be like in an angsty situation. i hope y'all like it, and i'm sorry if the british pronunciations/slang are awful 😭😭😭

to hobie, it felt like everything was possible with you; like everything began and ended with you to him, that everything wouldn't be anything if he wasn't there for you, to save you, be spider man for you. he had never wanted anything more than to just be there for you, make the world a little better than how it was before you two were together.

he may appear cool and level-headed, a bit of a jokester as well, on the surface–but deep, deep down, in the recesses of his psyche, therein lies a dark void of fear, irrepressible, palpable fear. that fear being that one day, if he slips up, lets go at a crucial moment when he can't handle everything being thrown at him–when he closes his eyes for even a fraction of a second–you'd be gone.

hobie has seen and gone through a lot of unfortunate things in his life, and every time, he gets through it somehow. some may say he's incredibly tough and fortified for handling all that he's been through, all that he's seen, but what doesn't kill you doesn't make you stronger–it makes you question just why it had to happen to you, both the bad... and the good. the good being you, the sole ray of light that shines in his life–the only reason he has to tread carefully and look after himself is you.

to say he was in love with you was an understatement, hobie was completely and utterly smitten, enamored with you. he loves you dearer than dearly, he loves you with a love that doesn't overbear, a love that isn't selfish–he loves you with a love that only he can give you, that nobody else can give quite like he can. he adores you for who you are, for what you can do, for your heart and mind–you were so perfect in every way because you were so flawed and real, and that was the beautiful reality of you that hobie fell headfirst for.

but he can't bear to face that other, pivotal reality that haunts him, that reality being that you were more fragile than him. you were a civilian–an ordinary person that lived an ordinary life; but ordinary people can only do so much to defend themselves from extraordinary threats. he can't stomach the fact that you might not be able to save yourself from a devastating threat that doesn't even want your life, but instead, his. he can't stand to think that you would really be serious about telling him that you'd really die for him.

and tonight... you held yourself to that.

you tried saving him, tried to save him–spider man, who saves others before himself–at the expense of your own life.

it happened in an instant, when he was wounded, vulnerable, and weak. he was going to throttle the villain, but now, it felt like merely throttling the villain who practically pummeled you to the ground would be way too lenient. it was like his heartbeat halted, his whole world stopped, time stopped when he watched you get body slammed by the villain; the villain was doing their job, being evil, hurting whoever they wanted to hurt, to hell if who they hurt is spider man or his partner--and hobie felt like he couldn't even do the most basic job of all that was entrusted to him: keeping you safe.

you couldn't remember a thing after you jumped at the villain, all you could feel now was a complete, total, stinging numbness. it's ironic, isn't it, that when you's supposed to feel nothing, all you can feel is a distraction disguised as nothing; that's what the numbness felt like as you lay there on the hospital bed, incapacitated and immobile. you could still speak, but very weakly, you couldn't raise your arm, nor your hand, nor a single finger on either of your hands. you were still. completely still.

next to you by the bed was a beaten, battered and bruised hobie. he took that villain out, a little more violently than he usually would have, but none of that mattered to him right now except for you and how you were doing. hobie was tormenting himself by looking at you, seeing you stare up at the bright lights above you in a daze, unsure of what happened, why you're here, where you even are... he can barely walk over to you without staggering, not because of his injuries, but out of sheer relief that you're alive.

he was sobbing, and smiling--he was smiling because against all odds, you toughed it out, you lived. "hey, love..." he murmured as he fell to his knees next to you by the bed, clutching your hand that was hooked up to an IV. you weakly glanced over to your side and peered at hobie, who was muttering and kneeling next to you. "hobie..." you whispered his name as you felt his grasp on your hand tighten. he sniffled back his sobs and wiped away the tears in his eyes. he was beyond relieved you were okay, but he felt like this couldn't go on anymore; neither of you could keep seeing each other, it was for your own good. he endangered you, and all because he failed to keep you safe, his mind was a mess right now.

hobie wasn't in the best place when he watched you get thrown into the ground, hearing a loud thud as you hit the pavement below you. you were so soft, so fragile, so easy for his enemies to squash and kill. you couldn't be with him, not anymore, not when your life would always be at stake when he's around you. he clutched your hand and cleared his throat as he shakily got on his knees, his smile now gone from his face as he avoided looking at your face directly.

"i... i have something to tell you." he said as his grip on your hand was loosening, with little strength in your body, you tried to hold on to him, not to let him go--but he let go first. he looked at you in the eyes, and you could see a shadow looming over his eyes as he attempted to conceal all the pain, all the remorse and guilt he was experiencing for as long as he needed to tell you this: "we can't be together anymore. we're done." he murmured, but in that murmur, hobie carried a stinging pain in his heart that merely worsened and ached harder than any wound he's ever received at the hands of his opponents and enemies; or even those of his own allies once.

you stared at him with widened eyes, your eyes were blank but shone with a twinkle, a twinkle that came about when you saw hobie come into your hospital room. now, that twinkle had shone and waned, it died as quickly as it came, and you found yourself in the dark--in an oblivion where light could never enter, where everything that is ever in it gets trapped, confined, bound t never escape. you were lonely, all over again. you were pushed to the side, all over again. you felt an overwhelming grief and pity for yourself, all over again.

"but, h-hobie, i..." you trailed off as you tried to get up, the pain in your recovering wounds prohibiting you from speaking. hobie looked back at you in shame, he couldn't bear to touch you, couldn't even bear to look at you. he loved you, even if you were now scarred and bruised, but he hated how you got all those horrible, horrible marks on you. they reminded him--each and every strap of gauze, every scar, ever bruise, every cut on you; it all reminded him of why you two could never be together. he had to gulp down the rising wails he wanted to let go of in that moment to keep you from worrying any more. he shook his head as he turned away from you. "no. we can't be together anymore." he said with a crack in his voice as he hurriedly headed off to the window and pulled it up, feeling the breeze against his face as he climbed up on the windowsill and pulled his mask down.

"hobie--!" you exclaimed as you tried kicking off the sheets from you to get up and follow you, but instead--in your haste--you accidentally fell off the bed, with hobie's head almost snapping as he sensed you were going to fall--but he still couldn't bear to be near you... what right did he have to be near you again, hold you again, ask you if you were okay when he caused all of this to happen to you?

'they'll be okay... they'll be better off, they'll be better off without me.' he reminded himself internally as he heard you get up on your feet, wobbling and clinging onto the bed frames to support you, feeling his heart break with every sound he heard coming from you trying your hardest to reach him. you rolled your IV with you as you meekly approached hobie. "hobie, please don't do this." you pleaded him as tears started welling up in your eyes. hobie didn't respond, he just sat there, perched up on the windowsill as you sobbed behind him, waiting for him to say something, to do something. "please... this isn't your fault." "don't be ridiculous." he said as he finally made this conversation a two-way one as he turned to face you slightly.

"i'm the reason you jumped at that wanker, wasn't i? if not for me, you wouldn't have... have been confined to that blasted bed, have that fucking thing get hooked up to you, get stitches, wrapped up in gauze, almost die..."

hobie choked at his words when he said that last word, 'die'. his greatest fears, the realities he had put off facing for so damn long were finally realized that moment when you jumped in to protect him, to let yourself be killed in his stead. hobie inhaled, sniffling all the while as he took off his mask and placed his hand over his eyes, trying to concentrate on the right thing to do, parting ways with you. your legs quaked as you walked over to him, but you wanted to be close to him, even when he was trying his hardest right now to distance himself from you.

"love, i did that because i... i love you--" "and that's exactly the problem. you love me. you love me, and because you love me, you got hurt, didn't you?"

he asked you in a sharp tone, one you had never heard him speak to you with before. he removed his hand that was covering his eyes and soon looked up at you. his eyebrows were furrowed, but his eyes carried a different emotion in them. instead of fury and aggression, a frightened hopelessness was seen in those dark brown eyes of his. that fiery passion he had, that brilliant confidence of his had been extinguished; all that was left of him now was a darkness, a darkness that had to be satiated by finally distancing you, 'protecting' you.

hobie put his mask back on and turned back towards the city outside, the city that he would disappear in, hoping to never cross paths with you again--not after this, not after seeing how dedicated you were to him... he can't bear to break you even more, even if you were more than willing to shatter yourself for him. "so that's just it, huh?" you asked aloud as he leaned forward, about to bring his hand out to shoot a web and swing off, far away from you. but he stayed. he listened. he lived in that moment with you for a little bit, let you linger in his life for a few more moments before the inevitable happens. "you're just gonna... swing off, leave me here, forget we were ever together? is this... is this it? do you honestly think you can control what i do? i did that out of love for you, it didn't matter what would happen to me anymore, i promised you that i--" "i'm doing this to save you." he interrupted you as hobie stood his ground and refused to stay any longer.

this was it. this was the fall out. this was the beginning of the end, the entirety of the end between you two.

the tear streaks on your face were drying up, until new tears rolled down your cheeks as you stared at your now ex-boyfriend's back. where spider man ended and where hobie began, you could never find out--and you feared that you never knew the real hobie to begin with, the frightened hobart brown that you had never met before had finally crossed paths with you for the first and last time.

as hobie extended his arm out and shot a web at a signal tower nearby, you spoke weakly in a quieted voice. "you can't always be a hero, hobart. you can't... you can't always protect people like me, no matter how much you want to..." hobie exhaled deeply and slowly nodded at your statement. "i'm well aware." he said in a soft voice as he readied to hop off the windowsill and swing off into who knows where.

"...sometimes, you can't make it all better."

you uttered as you turned your back to him, not wishing to watch him leave you in this cold hospital room. and no matter how painful and searing this moment was for you, you couldn't hate him. even if you got hurt for his sake, got confined to the hospital for him even when he's cutting off all ties with you for what happened after... you can't hate him.

the minute you turned around, he was gone. the wind whistled as it blew a gust of wind into your already freezing hospital room. an orange leaf was left in hobie's stead, must've been carried by the wind and left here. you picked it up as you walked over to it and gazed at the intricate details of the leaf. "it's... nearly fall." you muttered to yourself as you stared off into the distance, trying not to wonder where he could've gone, and instead, think about how different it feels to see orange and yellow leafed trees down the block instead of green.

"change is scary... but i'll get through it." you uttered to yourself as you held the delicate, orange leaf in your hands; a few teardrops fell from your eyes involuntarily, with you being unable to wipe them in your daze. "i'll... i'll get through it... right?" you asked yourself in a croak as you smiled to yourself, with undertones of grief in that layered grin of yours.

tags !! @k4tsu3 @fiannee @luvstarrstruck @toneystank-3000 @ii01vq @maxoloqy @popeheywardssecretgf @arachnoia @solecitoszn @conitagray

#hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown angst #spider punk #atsv #atsv angst #atsv imagines #atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse angst

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nightprompts · 9 months

Text

&. 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞 (𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧) 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

( dialogue prompts taken from episodes 5 & 6 ( "eat at baratie!" & "the chef and the chore boy" ) of the netflix live action one piece series. feel free to edit and change as you seem fit. )

❛ how about we sail away as fast as we can? ❜

❛ about the battle, you wanna talk about it? ❜

❛ there's something on the breeze. smells like butter. soy sauce. and meat. ❜

❛ think he has brain damage? ❜

❛ i smell food, which means that there's someone somewhere cooking. ❜

❛ what's a... baratie? ❜

❛ let's eat! ❜

❛ you'll have to excuse them. they're idiots. ❜

❛ wanna take this outside? ❜

❛ are you asking me to dance? 'cause i kind of had my eye on that blonde at table eight. ❜

❛ i call it a true bluefin sauté. it's elephant tuna, seared asparagus, in a sweet soy reduction. ❜

❛ if i gotta sling one more prime rib medium-well, i am going to drop dead of boredom, you old shitbag! ❜

❛ this ain't gonna be a fight. i'm just going to kill him. ❜

❛ hi, welcome to our shitty restaurant where the only thing worse than the ambience is the food. ❜

❛ one of our signature cocktails to help you choke down your meal? ❜

❛ apologies, madam, i didn't see you there. ❜

❛ something wrong with your eye? ❜

❛ just blinded by your beauty. ❜

❛ nami's got a boyfriend. ❜

❛ did i catch you in the middle of something? ❜

❛ just killing some time. ❜

❛ who's the quarry? ❜

❛ doesn't sound like much of a challenge. ❜

❛ why are you after me? ❜

❛ you woke me from my nap. ❜

❛ i can't eat another bite. but it's so good. ❜

❛ who the hell is monkey d. luffy? ❜

❛ i don't even think there's liquor in this. it tastes just like candy. ❜

❛ who's ready for another drink? my treat. ❜

❛ i don't really do regret. no point in looking back. ❜

❛ sometimes, when i try to look ahead, all i see is back. ❜

❛ you know, you're a really good cook. ❜

❛ if a man is hungry, i feed him. ❜

❛ what are you carrying around that's so heavy? ❜

❛ i bet i know more about you than you do about me. ❜

❛ i guess something about you, you drink. you guess something about me, i drink.❜

❛ i have business with your captain. if you know what's good for you, you'll hand him over. ❜

❛ i've been following your career since i was a child. it's an honor to finally meet you, sir. which is why it pains me to inform you that tomorrow... you're going to die. ❜

❛ accept my challenge. you'll see how serious i am. ❜

❛ you want me to say you're the best? you're the best. okay? ❜

❛ you're the best i've ever seen, but you are not better than him. ❜

❛ why do you give a shit? ❜

❛ because you're my friend, you idiot. ❜

❛ you said it yourself. you don't have any friends. ❜

❛ what is that? i'm here for a sword fight. ❜

❛ i don't hunt rabbits with a cannon. ❜

❛ you're brave. i'll give you that. ❜

❛ wounds on the back are a swordsman's greatest shame. ❜

❛ this world could use a few more wild cards. ❜

❛ it's too soon for you to die. grow strong and come find me. i'll be waiting. ❜

❛ you could never fail me. ❜

❛ look, i'm not gonna lie to you. he's lost a lot of blood. it might be too late for him. but it might not be. ❜

❛ he's got one foot in each world right now, caught between life and death. you have to find a way to keep him tethered to our world. ❜

❛ nice of you to announce yourself. ❜

❛ i don't take orders. not even from the likes of you. ❜

❛ what's the matter? don't like fish? ❜

❛ if you don't want the fish, i got two-inch t-bones in the kitchen. or maybe you're in the mood for saffron risotto? ❜

❛ i can make anything. just tell me what you want. ❜

❛ being a captain, it's the toughest job in the world, okay? ❜

❛ how'd you two meet? were you on his crew or something? ❜

❛ oregano's for savages! ❜

❛ you've got a sharp tongue on you, boy. how about i cut it out and fry it up with some pig fat? ❜

❛ do what you want, but i'm not gonna die here. ❜

❛ they're all dead, except for us. ❜

❛ you ate it? you ate your own leg? ❜

❛ you don't even know me. why would you do that for a stranger? ❜

❛ so i'm gonna need you to live on. and i'm gonna need you to fulfill that dream... for both of us. ❜

❛ have any idea what that's like? having someone lose a limb to save your life? ❜

❛ sometimes, when you are in charge, you have to make the tough decisions. ❜

❛ i'd do anything to save him. anything. except stand in the way of his dream. ❜

❛ isn't there something that you want? something more than anything else in this world? ❜

❛ not everyone gets to follow their dreams. ❜

❛ did you not hear what i just said? they are hunting you. we need to run. ❜

❛ i can't let innocent people get hurt because of me. ❜

❛ i hear you're looking for me. ❜

❛ so this is the pirate i've heard so much about? ❜

❛ do you know who i am, boy? ❜

❛ how'd you even know how to find me? ❜

❛ if you bow down to me, i might even let you serve in my kingdom. ❜

❛ i don't bow down to any man. ❜

❛ i told you in the bar i didn't have any friends, but the truth is, i couldn't let myself have them... because i always end up hurting the people closest to me. ❜

❛ why waste your time killing a devil fruit eater? let the sea do it for you. ❜

❛ what is your problem? ❜

❛ me? i'm fine. you're the one with the problem. ❜

❛ you're not gonna be anything, not if you stay here. ❜

❛ it's not like i can just leave. ❜

❛ don't you get it? it's one thing to have a dream. it's another to go after it. ❜

❛ you want my permission? you got it. ❜

❛ i didn't know what to say before, but i know what to say now, and it's so simple. i need you. ❜

❛ you gonna keep talking, or let me get some sleep? ❜

❛ i vow to stand by your side from now until the end. ❜

❛ you're my captain, and i'm your first mate. ❜

❛ heard you guys need a cook. ❜

❛ why are we bringing the waiter? ❜

❛ you keep your feet dry. ❜

❛ you know, all these years, living under your shitty roof, cooking at your shitty restaurant... i owe you my life! ❜

❛ thank you for putting up with my shit all these years, old man. ❜

❛ i'll never forget you! ❜

#one piece #opla #sentence starters #roleplay memes #roleplay starters #rp memes #inbox memes #rp starters #dialogue prompts #ask memes #tv

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h4arts · 1 year

Note

hi! saw you are open for asks 🦢 i have this idea with kaz and reader, where kaz is like ready for the next step to make more bold touches, but reader still acts super cautious with him. maybe their touchy with others but strain themselves with kaz for his comfort and it makes him sad mad( so he makes the first move and reader is kinda shoked but ofc happy

hope it’s fine 🤍

red lily, kaz brekker -synopsis: after a job across kerch, you question if kaz wants you to stay in ketterdam, and he takes the opportunity he'd been waiting for. -warnings: maybe ooc kaz (i'm, still trying to figure out how to write him best)

Kaz Brekker, dirtyhands, bastard of the barrel, he had a sharp eye for details, for things that could be worth something or could be useful later on. That's how he raised himself to be in the barrel, be above anyone else before they can be above you. It was quite literally kill or be killed, he quickly realized that after Jordie's death.

He knew from there looking forward that he had to seek revenge, if not for himself, for Jordie, to silence his brother's voice ringing in the back of his head. When he rose up the ranks of the Barrel, closer to getting exactly where he needed to be, he had gained a name for himself (or many names) that gave him a new purpose of life. A kind of rebirth from Kaz Rietveld to Kaz Brekker. From the darkness rose a nightmare.

His gloves, really, were his only weakness, the only hint he had outwardly towards the past where he was forged. He'd heard the rumors, even fed into some to keep people's minds grasping for an answer they would never find. It hadn't at first occurred to him really that someone might reach past the gloves, the barriers he had set to keep out the water threatening to reach back in and drown him.

You had come along sometime before Inej by pure chance. You knew of Kaz Brekker, and needed his help. Something small that would hold a price you could repay easily, yet was still worth enough to get him to agree. He hadn't expected you to stick around even after the debt was repaid. He told himself it was because of Inej, who had recently been brought out of the Menagerie. He saw how compatibly you worked with one another on simpler jobs that didn't require a mess. Not a big one at least. He certainly hadn't expected your company to evolve over the next couple years.

Now, he sat at a table below the deck of the ship they were on, going back to Ketterdam from a job across Kerch. He busied himself with refolding maps and blueprints that were no longer needed, but he couldn't help from hearing the laughter coming from right above him on the deck. Your laughter, mixed with Jesper's. He shouldn't have been surprised, it was like you and Jesper shared the same brain when it came to making jokes. But that knowledge didn't seem to matter, because he knew exactly why you were laughing from the thud that echoed right after, cuing Nina and Wylan's laughter as well. You and Jesper were probably a mess of limbs on the deck right now, wrestling over something stupid and impractical like usual as Matthias tried to pry you apart despite his amusement that he tried to hide.

Kaz felt something stir inside him, a feeling he had become familiar with when he saw how tightly Nina would hug you or how easy it felt for Jesper to wrap an arm around your shoulder when walking. It made him wish he could get over whatever he felt against touch when he saw Wylan instinctively reach for your hand whenever something excited either of you, he wished he could take Matthias' place with a comforting hand on your shoulder after a bad job or take Inej's place smoothing bandages over wounds after a fight.

Kaz recalled the first time he had felt your touch without any fabric between his skin and yours. It was and unpleasant trip in his mind, to say the least, but it had to be done. You were the only one around that didn't feel like letting Kaz Brekker die that day. It was a light press of your knuckles as you tied off a stitch, but it was long enough to signal the panic waiting to be released. You had quickly stepped away, not wanting to make it worse, but you hadn't seen it coming, and you didn't know how to stop it.

The second time was close, he had held out his hand for the jewel you had collected on a job, his gloves resting on the desk beside his elbow. You had dropped it in his hand right before you touched him, but he still felt the air of your retracting hand, and the small bit of warmth that had radiated from it in the second it hovered over his own.

Since then, he had allowed you to help him with it. He told you it was only to avoid an encounter where his one weakness might be a compromised vulnerability. He couldn't risk that happening even though no one knew besides his crows. It started small, you would rest your hand on his desk, palm facing up. The rest was at his pace. It was slow process, progress did not come quickly or easily, as the mind is a powerful thing, and trauma's claws are sharp and hurt to pry from the victim.

You gave him the space and time he needed. On a day he could manage linking your pinkies, he wouldn't take his gloves off for another day. On days that weren't so much, he could try again the next day. Progress comes slow for anything, you should know. He did know, not only from experience, but your reminders repeating over and over in his head.

Inej's hand appeared over the map Kaz had been staring at, slowly pulling it towards where she was seated across from him. "You're missing the party up there." She chose not to comment on his blank stare before she had made her presence known.

"You could hardly call that a party. Maybe a group of maddening school children." Kaz picked up the next map unfazed, folding it according to all the previous creases it bent at. Inej allowed a near invisible smirk to pull at the corner of her lips as she folded her own map.

"Maybe you could excuse the heartrender in that group that saved us all from being blown to pieces." This time, Kaz looked up at the girl across from him, expression completely unreadable besides the annoyance clouding in his eyes that only a select few knew where to find. "The sunlight may do you good anyways. Maybe even someone else up there would find extra company pleasant." But Kaz didn't make a move to get up, and Inej didn't push it.

The two sat in silence, save for the loud conversations still coming from above deck. The maps had been folded and stored away until they neared the docks, and Inej watched as Kaz's fingers twitched slightly beneath his gloves. Your voice echoed over the others again, something about the flowers of Ketterdam. A joke, Inej knew. There were no flowers, at least none easy to come by.

But Kaz knew there was another meaning to your joke, he had heard it before during a job, back before even Jesper or Inej were around. He had asked you about it, and your response was simple, it's easy to make jokes of things that will never be.

Kaz couldn't understand why he remembered it, why such a small detail held such a big memory, like it was a secret kept between the two of you. Inej had left, and you had taken her place. Kaz didn't seem moved enough to greet you as you sunk into the chair.

"The flowers of Ketterdam?" You duck your head at his question, instead staring at the rough skin around your nails.

"Yes. I might grow some lilies at the club. Red ones." Kaz shook his head at that.

"There will be no flowers at my club." Kaz reaches for his cane that had been propped on the edge of the table, holding the crows head between his gloved hands.

"Is Nina not a flower then?" You grinned, looking up from your hands.

"Nina is far from a flower."

"That's not what Matthias thinks."

"I don't care what Matthias thinks about her. Though I'm unfortunately reminded of it every time he looks at her."

"What, the way you look at a new stack of kruge?"

"Have you simply come to pester me or do you actually need something?" Your eyes go back to your hands, shrugging your shoulders that were still visibly tense from when you had gotten on the ship when you had first left Ketterdam.

"Just letting you know we'll be back in a few minutes." The room fell into silence then, besides the light tapping of your heel against the wood beneath you as your leg bounced.

"The job went fine, why are you still acting like it's your first one?"

"Maybe because we're constantly putting our lives on the line for more money even though we just steal whatever we want on the daily." Your eyes were still trained on your hands, twisting your rings back and forth around your fingers.

Kaz knew you were right, but he couldn't just stop. That was how he made his income, that was how he got to where he was, and ultimately, it would be how he destroyed Pekka Rollins. He didn't want to risk the lives of his crows, but honestly, they were probably safer where they were now than wandering the wrong side of Ketterdam homeless, stuck under contract with the Menagerie, or thrown in a prison cell awaiting death.

"This can't be how we live the rest of our lives." You finally look up from the glimmering rings adorning your fingers, meeting Kaz's gaze which had also been fixated on your rings.

"It won't. Think of it like a phase in a game, long but never lasts." He stands from the chair across the table from you and instead sits in the one next to you. "You'll all leave this place eventually, and with that, you'll be leaving this life behind."

"What about you?"

"I'll always be here." A frown settles across your face, it sounded horrible that he'd always be stuck in Ketterdam, even though you knew he could go anywhere if he wanted.

"Then I will too." You disliked Ketterdam just as much as your friends above deck, but also like them, like Kaz, a part of it felt like home now. The Slat, the Crow Club, where you'd spent days and nights talking and laughing when jobs weren't lurking around your schedules. You weren't alone like you were when you first arrived in Ketterdam. You'd all found a small, broken family in each other.

"You shouldn't." You couldn't have expected those to be the words that left Kaz's lips. Something else was happening, gears were turning in a multitude of directions in his mind. In fact, you were so focused on that, you had missed how carefully he'd slid off his gloves.

"Do you not want me to stay?" Your voice had dropped to a whisper, scared of the answer. You weren't sure what Kaz wanted exactly, no one ever was. But rather than a verbal response, you were shocked at the sudden feel of a hand taking yours. Looking down was when you noticed Kaz's gloves resting on his knee, the skin of his hand uncovered and touching yours.

He didn't say anything, about holding your hand or a response to your question, but the grip of his hand on yours was reassuring to you, and it answered any possible question you could think to ask in the moment. He did want you to stay with him, but he wanted better for you. Not the dim streets of a city that would kill before it would love.

Kaz had found that he surprised himself with how easy it felt to have your hand in his once he had pushed the waters down and the resurfacing memories back. Carefully, he ran his thumb down your palm, resting at the pulse point of your wrist. You watched him with gentle eyes as he put the slightest amount of pressure there, feeling your pulse beat lightly against his thumb. He left it there for a moment, until it began to feel like too much. You noticed and lightly pulled your hand away before the panic could set in.

"You don't have to stay." He mutters, pulling his worn gloves back on, refusing to meet your light gaze.

"I want to." Your response calls his eyes back to your own, and he saw the feeling you held in them. "I'll use my flower money to buy you some new gloves. Or maybe a hat."

Kaz knew he still had a long road of work ahead of him if he wanted to touch you properly, without gloves or multiple layers of fabric between you. But he knew you were patient with him, and he trusted you would stick to your word of staying.

"We're home children, you owe me waffles!" Nina's voice calls down the stairs, followed by the echo of footsteps moving off the deck. Giving Kaz a small smile, you stand from your chair and head towards the stairs that would lead above deck.

"I'll wait for you up there."

───☆───

The next morning, you woke up a bit later than normal. Though you'd had a reason too, the boat ride was not the most relaxing thing after the job you'd all performed the previous two days. Stretching out your arms, something brightly colored caught your eye from the night stand beside your pillow. With a smile, you reach for the object resting neatly in the center. The floral scent pleasantly stung your senses as you observed the bouquet of red lilies that had been placed on your nightstand, along with a note that instructed your presence at seven bells at the corner restaurant the crows had been meeting at for dinner lately.

#kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x you #six of crows x reader

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mncxbe · 6 months

Note

hiii! i hope ur requests are open and if theyre not im very sorry and ignore this!

ive been thinking too much about dazai with a younger reader whos 15 and reminds him a lot of himself. like he remembers what oda said and becomes determined to steer u down the right path

overall becomes a sweet (but very annoying sometimes) big brother figure <333

nonnie♡♡ this is hhh such a nice idea I went a bit silly with it hope u like it. he would definitely try to bring you on the right path. to make things even more interesting let's assume you're from the PM.

The two of you met when he was out on a mission with Atsushi. Naturally, he paid no attention to you, a little scrawny kid scrolling on her phone, walking in their direction. But that was until you suddenly attacked them.

You were so relentless in your fight that you ended up badly injured, so they had to take you back to the Ada office to get treated by Yosano. After all, a Port Mafia member or not, Dazai couldn't bring himself to let a kid die.

When you eventually woke up in the infirmery you saw him standing at the edge of your bed, arms crossed in front of his chest as he watched you intently.

"You feeling better kid?" he asked and you only nodded in response, eyes darting around the room, taking in your surroundings.

Dazai noticed the cunning look on your face, the way you scanned the room for possible escapes while still maintaining a nonchalant facade and couldn't help but chuckle.

"Now, now don't worry kid. We'll let you go as soon as you answer some questions"

Dazai asked you about your mission and your involement with your Port Mafia; routine questions mostly: how you ended up working for them, who you serve under, how long you've been with the PM- things to which you gave a half-hearted, disinterested response. But you refused to get into detail about the organization's plans; no matter how much he persuaded you and tried to get inside your head, you just wouldn't break.

With each calculated reply Dazai saw more of his younger self in you; the innate ability to lie like it was your second nature, the way you managed to turn any conversation in your favour and mostly, how impassive you were to any of his threaths.

"You know, if you refuse to cooperate I'm gonna have to get the information out of you in other ways"

You simply sighed, idly picking at your nails. "Well, pain would be bothersome, but I'd rather die than betray the Mafia"

Dazai saw an opening, a slight crack in your carefully built facade "So you're that afraid of what they might do to you if they find out you're a traitor?"

"Nah, but I prefer to stay true to the things I believe in. After all, does life have any value if you give up on your beliefs?"

There it was, the answer he was looking for. Sighing, he rose to his feet, staring down at you "That's quite grim for a kid your age to say."

"I don't think it's grim. More like honest, but who am I to discuss the value of life with you?" you said casually, pointing at his bandages.

"Oh wow touché" he chuckled "But what exactly are those values you're so keenly holding on to, some principles passed down to you by the boss? Can you really call those things values?"

"Sure I can. As long as they give me a purpose to live" For a brief moment you caught a shadow of doubt on the brunette's face. He was conflicted, you could tell.

"You know" he started again "I once thought the same as you do, that good and evil don't matter as long as you do a job and get it done well, but violence and death only give birth to more violence and death. It's a vicious cycle, really, so don't expect to find a purpose or a reason to live in that."

You lowered your gaze, continuing to pick at your nails and he knew the conversation was over. He wasn't gonna get anything out of you.

"Look, kid, you're wasting yourself in there. If you want a reason to live I can give it to you"

"And why would you do that? You don't seem the type to do charity work?"

"Let's just say that that's my purpose in life, to guide people like you on the right path"

"People like me? Meaning petty criminals working for the Mafia?" you inquired mockingly, raising a brow.

Dazai scoffed at your remark "We both know you're more than a petty criminal, but yes. People like you, who don't take life for granted and want to understand its meaning."

"So now you can psychoanalyse me too hm? Are you gonna tell me this mentality of mine comes from the fact that I grew up without a father figure or...?"

Your witty remarks were starting to get to him, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Nah, it comes from the fact that all you've seen in your life is evil and look where this has gotten you. Five years in the Mafia and you're still where you were at the beginning, still searching for a deeper meaning in life. We're more alike than you may think, kid. As I said, I used to be in the same position you're in"

You shrugged, feigning disinterest, but he could tell his words were affecting you.

"And your point is?"

Taking in a deep breath, Dazai combed a hand through his hair "My point is that you should leave the Mafia and join us. Change your perspective. If finding a purpose in life truly is your goal, then you won't regret this decision. Trust me"

You both stood in silence for a while as you considered his proposal. You could technically leave the Mafia, it's not like working there has gotten you anywhere. No matter how many missions you completed or how fast you climbed the ladder, there was still a nagging feeling that you could do more, that there was more to life than this.

You finally raised your gaze to meet his and gave a small nod. "I'll think about it."

"Good, you do that, kid"

Dazai helped you out of the bed and walked you to the front of the building. You left without even saying goodbye, making your way down the street; towards the Port Mafia headquarters. Dazai watched you slowly walk away, your figure growing smaller with each step you took and somewhere deep down he was sure he'd see you again.

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bsd dazai #dazai osamu #dazai bsd #dazai x reader #bsd port mafia

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d4vynn · 1 year

Text

Knight!Xiao whose task is to protect you, the crown prince/princess until you ascend to the throne. He's pretty young- much younger than his comrades- but that doesn't make him any less of a royal guard.

Having been personally assigned to you by the king/queen, Xiao takes his duties seriously- he puts your safety above anything else as expected but sometimes it feels like he's doing it for personal reasons too.

"To be foolish enough to leave the castle without m- any guards..." The sounds of the festival bleed into the quiet alleyway where your guard has cornered you. He pulls your hood over your head with a stern tug. "Had something happened to you tonight, we would not have known until the morning."

There's something in the way he speaks. The uncharacteristic hint of desperation and impatience that weaves into his tone is unfamiliar and conflicting. His overprotectiveness is unbearable sometimes, but at the same time, you're a little flattered that he'd worry for you so much- considering how cold he has been to you lately.

He's a knight, it's his job to worry- you remind yourself with a twinge of disappointment.

"I just wanted to see the festival." You huff with a scowl. Weakly pulling away, you glare into his piercing irises then turn back to the golden lights stringed across the streets that glimmer dreamily. You can hear cheery laughter and melodies float into the air. "Father never lets me go out for festivals- 'it's for commoners,' he says. What if I want to see what life is like for the people I will eventually rule over?"

There's something in the silence that hangs in the air. It almost makes you want to take off running. It'd be difficult but with the size of the crowd you could lose him as long as you keep running. "I'm going, whether or not you like it! So if you want to--"

"I will accompany you tonight."

"-stop me then- wait what?"

Xiao sighs and tugs his own hood up and over his head. "I will accompany you," he repeats and takes you by the hand. "Only for tonight, and we will return before the sun comes up."

The defeated sigh he lets out is enough for you to grin.

Surprise makes way for giddiness, and you squeeze his hand tightly. "Really? Then what're we waiting for-? I saw a stall that sells almond tofu, I figured..."

He stops listening when you begin to ramble, too distracted by the way your hand fits perfectly in his. Something in his chest tugs and tugs and he lets himself be dragged around by you until you're satisfied.

As a knight, Xiao never slacks in his duty to protect you. But when it comes to your impulsive whims, he might make a few exceptions and indulge you, if only to see that dazzling smile on your face.

You've met prince Scaramouche once before during a visit to his kingdom for a diplomatic conference. Quiet and brooding in his mother's courtyard, you noticed how hesitant his maids were in approaching him.

In an effort to spark conversation, you approached him with a well-practices mile and greetings. What you hadn't expected was to end up patting the young prince's back consolingly as he vented about his younger sister always outshining him despite all of his efforts.

"It's so- it's so unfair!" He hisses, wiping furiously at his damp cheeks as you nod along. Scaramouche huffs and puffs as he continues to berate his sister as well as himself, cheeks red as he internally curses himself for showing a weak and vulnerable side of himself to an opposing prince/princess. "I don't care if you laugh- go on! Laugh at me, I don't care at all--"

There's pity in your eyes when you watch him break down, a young prince succumbing to the pressure of nobility leaves a bitter but familiar taste in your mouth. Memories of nights spent sobbing and along resurface to the forefront of your mind. How could you leave him like this? When you yourself had wished for someone to hear your cries and offer a shoulder?

His words die in his throat when a warmth envelops his torso, the smell of your perfume/cologne invading his senses as his hands reach to dig into the fabric of your clothes. Another wave of tears pool into his eyes and he spits insults and curses into your shoulder- yet he refuses to release you until his tears are dried and the sun has set.

You haven't spoken to the prince since that day. In fact, you don't think you've seen him at all. Something in the back of your mind tells you to find him, but it's a hopeless endeavor when even the maids cannot tell you.

It's the moment you're about to leave that he finally appears.

"I won't forget this," he says before you step into the carriage. The carriage that will take you home and away from him. Electric purple eyes glower into yours, an unspoken promise binding the two of you together.

The next time you meet prince Scaramouche, you're both significantly older. No longer is he the snobby, teary-eyed prince you remembered from your youth.

Taller, stronger and driven by emotion, he approaches you during a ball and takes your hand in his. Amidst the whispers that erupt throughout the room, he leans forward with a smug smile and proudly proclaims to make you his partner.

He had loved you since that day, and he promises to love you for the rest of your lives.

#can you tell i didnt know how to end scara's part #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #xiao #xiao x reader #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact oneshots #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact headcannons #genshin impact headcanons

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heybank · 26 days

Text

DENY PART FOUR

omg here is part four!! this chapter is a little longer (i think)

smut is literally so hard to write bc i'm like wait where is everyone's hands. who's body part is where??? anyway i hope you like it :)

cw: oral (m rec) cumplay, mention of virginity

masterlist here

pogues (nsfw 18+)

they hadn't exactly told the others about their new relationship. they've been lucky so far with john b caught up in sarah and kie is busy with working at the wreck and the new girl she's been seeing and doesn't think we know about.

we've all been so stuck in the honeymoon phase of a new relationship, learning each others bodies and navigating dating as a polyamorous throuple.

grace wishes she could stay in this bliss, cocooned in her boyfriends heat and scents. right now they're in popes bedroom, the three of them squished together on his small twin sized mattress, trying to touch every inch of each other.

you've all discussed about what or how to tell your friends but right now you want to keep it a secret. you're not ashamed but you're a little afraid of possible repercussions you all will face when the truth comes out.

you think john b will be confused at first, he's always been a little thick in the skull but you know he'll come around. sarah will not care at all and probably want to corner you and hear all your juicy details.

kie might be tricky, she's been adamant about the no pogue on pogue macking and now here you are, macking on two of them.

you and jj are kind of lucky in the aspect of your parents literally do not care if you live or die so there's no worry about telling them. pope on the other hand, you're a little worried mr and mrs heyward won't understand or be not so accepting. you know they love pope but ignorance sometimes sticks to your bones and makes people feel certain ways about certain things. pope jokes they'll be happy he's dating you, they love you. they just might not be enthusiastic about trouble maker white boy extraordinaire.

jj says no matter what you'll all have each other and that thought makes you pull your boys in even tighter.

"pope..." you softly ask your brown eyed boy, "can i suck your dick?"

the question and the innocence of how you asked it makes both boys choke on their spit. despite the steaminess of your dream and some heavy petting here and there, none of you have actually gone all the way with each other. you and pope are virgins, jj is the only one with experience. you cringe thinking about your man with other people.

"yeah? you wanna suck my dick pretty?" pope asks, trying to be cool but he's really fucking hyped.

"yeah." you answer shyly. "wanna make you feel good and then i wanna make j feel good too."

none of you have to say anymore words, pope jumps off his bed and walks over to where you were sitting on his computer chair, you pull him in for a hug and give him a soft slow kiss.

"jj, will you teach me?" you inquire.

"yeah baby girl, i'll help you make pope feel really good." he responds.

you kneel down in front of pope, eagerly going to his belt buckle and undoing his shorts. you pull them down his legs and see his prominent bulge in his boxer briefs, precum staining the grey material.

"tease him through his boxers, baby." jj prompts you.

you lean in and nuzzle popes covered dick with your nose and mouth. softly suckling him through the fabric. you moan at his scent. he smells clean mixed with salt water and musk that is inherently pope.

out of the corner of your eye you see jj pulling out his dick and giving it a soft tug. he's getting so turned on watching you give pope his first blow job.

"don't tease anymore grace, please" pope whines.

you nod and slowly pull the boys underwear down to his ankles so pope can step out of them. you see his dick sprig up and hit his tummy with a soft smack and you gasp at the size. he's bigger than jj in length, even tho jjs cock is thicker. you squeeze your thighs together to release some pressure that's been building up in your core.

you gently grab popes dick and give the tip a kitten lick, moaning out loud at the taste.

"go on and lick him, princess. from his balls and back to his tip." jj directs. he's still softly tugging at his own dick.

"will you help me jj? suck his dick with me?" you ask coyly. you know your innocent act turns them on beyond belief.

"yeah? you want me to suck his dick baby? you want that pope?"

the poor heyward boy just looks blissed out, eyes downcast. he just moans and nods in consent. the thought of both his partners sucking his dick together makes him want to nut right then and there.

you move to the side to make room for jj to also sit in front of popes cock. jj pulls you in for a passionate kiss, sticking his tongue in your mouth, moaning a little when he tastes pope on your tongue.

when you end your kiss you and jj both lean in to suckle on popes cock, at this point he's dripping with precum and is so close to busting.

you open your mouth and try to suck his dick down your throat, moving your head up and down causing pope to grab the hair at the back of your head. he doesn't push you further onto his cock tho, ever the gentleman.

while you're sucking his dick jj leans forward and takes one of popes balls into his mouth causing both boys to moan for different reasonings.

you pull off popes cock with a gasp, spit and precum all over your mouth and chin, leaving his cock wet and shiny.

this encourages jj to lean in and continue on what you were just doing. he's never sucked a dick before but he has one of his own so he knows what would potentially feel good.

you raise your hand to jjs hair and begin massaging his head, casual intimacy that you've always had with the boy regardless of sex. you also take note you're still holding popes hand with your other one, essentially connecting all three of you together.

"i'm gonna cum- jj please" pope moans.

"can he cum on my face jj please i want it in my mouth and on my face!"

jj released popes cock with a sly grin and lifts his hand so he can jack the other boy off.

"yeah, you wanna cum on her face pope? make our girl all dirty?"

a few more pumps and pope is shooting out warm streams of his cum, loud moans and cries coming from the heyward boys mouth.

you moan at the feeling of his warm cum landing on your cheek and mouth, causing you to open it and suck down the remaining of popes load.

"fuck that was the best orgasm i've ever had." pope breathlessly says, knees buckling so he can join the two of you on the floor.

jj leans in to kiss you, licking at your face and lips to help clean off popes cum, with a mouthful still in mouth, he leans in and kisses pope, tongues collided and popes release being shared back and forth between the two boys. they are so fucking hot.

once the boys pull away from each other, you give out a giggle and excitedly start pawing at jjs still hard leaking cock.

"your turn!!" you say with eyes full of lust.

you're all at the chateau, sitting around the fire when it's actually pope who slips up. you're all calm and slightly tipsy from beers. pope gets up telling everyone he needs to leave for the night cause his dad needs help in the morning. he plants a kiss on jj without even thinking, moving onto you with ease. he doesn't clock the silence from the rest of the pogues or their wide eyes and shocked faces.

"surprise!" you cheer, blush scorching your face as you grab jjs hand for reassurance. jj reaching out to grab popes and pull him closer in case this goes sideways.

"i fucking knew it!" sarah cheers jumping out of her seat in triumph! "you owe me $5 john b!" she gloats.

uh oh.

taglist: (lmk if you wanna be added)

@theoraekenslover

@redhead1180

@motherfing-stargirl

#jj maybank #pope heyward #obx #outer banks #jj maybank x reader #my headcanons #jj maybank x oc #kiara carrera #pope x reader x jj #john b routledge #sarah cameron #pope heyward x reader #smut #fic #imagine

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