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futureplayboibunnie · 1 year

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Strong Enough

Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

18+ MDNI (y’all pls this is filthy)

- GIGGLING. KICKING MY FEET. i came back from spiderverse with JUST THIS MAN ON MY MIND. oscar isaac ur service is appreciated cause gah dayum.

- i had to write some super angsty smut abt him. i just had to, he’s so lana del rey vinylllll. i’m sorry if my spanish is crap (i had to use google translate bc my stupid ass took german instead of spanish in school- pls tell me if there were any mistakes. kiss kiss x)

warnings: dom!miguel, pnv, lotsa dirty talk (think i got carried away), angsty miguel, FANGS, sort of a soft end. AGGHH IM SO CRAZY ABOUT HIM WHAT THE FUCK.

enjoy bbygirls x

Miguel was furious as usual, his blood was beating like a drum with it, his mind buzzing akin to white noise. New anomalies, new foes but mostly a pesky kid who didn't know how to stay put and shut the fuck up- Miles Morales. He was seething- his eyes glowing a crimson hue violently assaulting against the hazel of his eyes. He looked like shit. Hell, he felt like shit. He was slipping, letting things get in the way, and he blamed you for it. Miguel doesn't slip. Miguel doesn't let things get in the way. Only until you came into his life and veered him off his intended course.

It was his hegemonic masculinity piping up like a hot breath down his neck. Miguel brought together the spider society- he was the solution to every problem, every anomaly, the answer to every spider. But he doesn't answer to himself. No, he didn't. You were the one that was overseeing Miguel's little society, hiding and checking in from time to time if the multiverse wasn't fucked up and every dimension was in a semi-stable state. Miguel was in control of the other spiders, he had to run his orders by you first even if you weren't at HQ half of the time. Being in a subservient position was exorbitantly and intensely frustrating and it made him highly hostile to anyone who talked to him.

You on the other hand had the jurisdiction to give him the authority- you gave him the damn idea, you were from his damn universe, but you couldn't deal with the politics and moral dilemmas that came with leading it. Also, you enjoyed toying with him. Fuck you found so much satisfaction in crawling through him, blowing at that over-inflated ego, those broad shoulders filled to the brim with hubris and pride. Hm, he was good at what he did though- actively scaring off anyone who dared speak against him. Except for Morales. You appreciated his pluck, it reminded you of yourself. Miguel was formidable but you understood why he needed to apprehend Morales- for some reason every time you were near the kid you started glitching out, it fucking hurt and messed with your brainwaves. You understood why he had to capture Miles but you didn't agree with how he was handling it. Miguel was sitting at his desk trying to figure out why this was happening and why this was happening to you but he came up empty. He didn't know what to think about it let alone do. It made him feel uneasy and he hated it. Cómo pedo solucionar esto? (How do I fix this?) kept looping throughout his head and it made him feel helpless and weak. Two words he would never associate with himself.

‘’Miguel.’’ Your voice echoed off the walls and shot straight to his ears, it was smoky and breathy.

"Y/N. Qué estás haciendo aquí? What do you want?’’ His usual low timbre makes your brows furrow involuntarily. ‘’Get out of the shadows.’’ He ordered and for once you listened to him, hopping on his platform behind him.

‘’Morales.’’ You stated deadpan knowing the reaction he was going to get, Miguel's eyes drastically narrowed and changed from a soft ambient scarlet to a scorching blood red. He turned his face a little to the side to glare at you.

"That kid touches anything in another dimension, I'll kill him myself.’’ He replied huskily. You weren't sure if you could trust his words. Yes, he was capable of it but you know deep down he wouldn't want to.

His moral compass strayed once, he won't let that happen again. Never.

"You wanna kill kids now? Is that how low we're going?'’

'We? There's we now?’’

You cocked your head at his question, your face remaining hard.

He stared at you in silent fury, of course he wouldn't want to resort to that but he had to do what he had to do. Miguel was surprised you didn't want to take him yourself considering he makes you glitch out. He hates you, God he hates you. But what happened to you...scared him. You'd been a part of this for so long, if anyone was going to hurt you it would be him- not anyone else. If anyone else did- Miguel dismissed the thought as quickly as it came.

Sometimes when he looked at you, he couldn't help but admire your callousness, your brutality yet your undying generosity to people who didn't deserve such a royalty. On the other hand, you were fucking gorgeous. He hated it. It was distracting. It was cruel. Though he couldn't help a little blip or mishap with his thought process- he was still a man after all. Miguel wondered what was under that suit. Wondered what you would like with nothing on at all. Wondered if you would still talk back with that snotty little attitude if you were choking on his dick instead. Though he wouldn't trust you not to bite his dick off in the process. Would you like his fangs? Would you like his claws? He shouldn’t be thinking such a thing.

‘’I should ask you the same question since he affects your stability también.’’ He replied calmly, slightly shocking you. ‘’No matter, I'll stop it. Alone.’’ He growled as he stepped off the platform, tired of entertaining this conversation with you. ‘’You've done enough damage as it is, now I have to fix it.’’

‘’I caused this damage? You realize how fucking stupid you sound. You control the spiders, I let you make orders.’’ You strike a harsh tone as you jolted in front of him to stop his path. Shit, he towered above you, all broad shoulders and disheveled hair. Although he undermined you like this, you wouldn't mind it in other situations...but at work, he was quite literally a piece of work and it made your blood boil. You both knew, you both could feel the palpable hatred swinging and beating again. ‘’And alone? I don't trust you not to kill him, Miguel.’’ You scowled, your eyes wide and piercing through him, halting him in his tracks. The gaze shared between you both was impenetrable, scorching, a battle against wills.

‘’I can't let you.’’ He shot back with a frown and grating red eyes.

‘’While I watch helplessly from the sidelines? I don’t think so. ’’ You challenged him white cold.

‘’I'm asking you, don't let me make you.’’ He gritted through clenched teeth, his fangs lightly protruding.

He was trying to scare you, it wasn't working.

‘’What is this to you? Playtime? To prove you're the strongest, to create fear wherever you go?’’ You pleaded with him orotund, inviting a yelling match to prove you weren't going down easy on this occasion.

You let Miguel do whatever he damn pleased like this was his own hunting grounds- but you won't let him lose his sanity.

‘’What? No.’’He replied shocked and confused at your presumed reasons why he was doing this. He just had to. He couldn't tell you the deep-rooted reason.

He didn't want to admit it.

Fuck, he couldn't admit it.

What kind of man would that make him?

What kind of leader? What kind of example would he be?

‘’Then what is it-?’’ He was trying to walk away from you but you snaggled onto his suit and brought him back to face you. ‘’Tell me.’’ You ordered stiffly.

‘’I have to do this alone.’’ His voice faltered a little and he was afraid that you might have heard it, that he gave you a glaring view of how quickly he was slipping through the cracks- how weak you've made him, how weak he was becoming.

‘’Why? Why do you need to, Miguel?!’’ You were almost yelling at him and no one other than you would get the privilege of living if they did that.

‘’Stop it.’’ He grunted like a wild animal.

"Then what-? What is it?’’ Your eyes searched for his as he was avoiding looking at your face, terrified that it would be written all over it. His heart was pounding.

‘’I'm not-‘’

‘’Not what?’’ You implored, pushing him further and further to the edge.

‘’I'm not strong enough.’’

‘'Strong enough? Oh yeah, and going after a kid will make you stronger.’’ You chided, eyes stiff cold, and judgemental.

‘’Yes, fuck. I-. No!’’ Miguel raked an exasperated hand through his hair, his palm was twitching and his talons were ready to come out. If only he could make you understand without telling you- but you were insatiable, a tick under his skin. Ready for another fucking fight.

Your eyebrows wilted as you said the words, so unbelievably paralyzed by his gall, his hubris, his never-ending need to prove he's the strongest, that he could do all of this. You knew he fucking could. ‘’That's what this is, some sort of bench press exercise for you? Some sort of work-out?!’’ Miguel grabbed you by the arms and his talons pinched at your skin through his suit, like he was trying to shake some sense into you.

‘’I can't lose you again!’’ He yelled at you, his face merely inches away from yours.

Your mouth popped open at his frazzled admission of honesty, his glowing red eyes faded as he stared at you, hoping for an answer he was sure you wouldn't give him. Miguel's harsh expression was lost with the wind when he hung his head to avoid that fucking look in your eyes. The one that made all the weight of the world he carried on his shoulders all the more fucking heavier, his hands raked down your arms as if he was soothing himself, and his breath became heavier as he closed his eyes to process the words he uttered. You glitching out every time Miles was near you is not an option he was willing to entertain: it was his job to worry about anomalies and canon events but on this occasion- he didn't. And he was admitting that to you.

It's not the fact that he's dangerous or an anomaly. It's because of you.

What kind of selfish would that make him?

Last time that happened he lost everything.

He would never make the same mistake again.

But look at him now.

Making the same mistake.

‘’I can't lose you. No otra vez....I'm not str-I'm not strong enough.’’ His head hung low as if the weight of the universe was saving him from completely falling apart.

You sighed in a mix of relief and pity. This is what it was all about? Pobre cosa (poor thing). Your eyes were wide with a magnetic pulse and your body was radiating a mesmeric need. He felt it. Your hands flew to his chest and slowly meandered to his broad shoulders, he was panting in exhaustion and regret but your fingers went to his chin and jutted it upwards so your longing stare could meet his. It was a scorching look between two tired and exhausted people. Miguel was working himself so hard and you just wanted to make him forget about it, just once.

‘’Miguel…’’

‘’Ahora me he dado cuenta de que no puedo hacer nada de esto sin ti.’’ (I've now come to realize that I can't do any of this without you). Miguel's eyes flitted to your lips, his voice low and husky...needy. ‘’But I'm a selfish man... y te necesito.’’ (and I need you). Your face looked blank, it's obvious you didn't understand a word he was saying. ‘’Whatever, you wouldn't understand what I'm saying anyway.’’ Miguel dismissed you as he let go of your embrace and attempted to head out.

Before he could move away too far, you exposed your wrist and webbed him, dragging him back to you. His eyes glinted with a surprise yet they were dark with need and arrogance. Miguel was in front of you and your pussy started throbbing. His senses went into overdrive and he couldn't hold back his will to not touch you anymore.

‘'He entendido cada palabra que me has dicho.’’ (I've understood every word you've ever said to me.)

He gripped your face and kissed you hard, it was furious and mean, and he tasted dangerous- just as you expected, just as you had been silently begging him to. Lord, you were sure you'd regret this but right now your body was alive. Miguel's massive hands pulled at your hair to open your mouth wider

'’Miguel...féllame, por favor.’’ (fuck me, please) you uttered breathlessly, his mouth traveling from your bottom lip, chin, and then neck. His lips then went to breathe raggedly in your ear.

‘’You've understood everything I've ever said under my breath about you?’’ He murmured, imploring you to make him understand. He thought he had the privilege of saying things secretly as no one understood his Spanish but him, so he could say things he didn't want to keep inside without anyone else knowing. But you pulled the rug out from under him, you've been fooling him. He hated it. The number of times he's mumbled how much he wanted you under his breath- fuck.

‘’Mhm.’’ You moaned as his hands flew to your hips and slammed you down on his desk with no finesse, planting himself between your soft thighs. ‘’I thought you would've caught me earlier than this chico.’’ You teased- the thought made him angry. His talons seeped out of his skin and ripped at your suit, exposing the bare skin of your waist.

‘’Y me he dado cuenta de lo mojada que te pones cuando estás cerca de mí.’’ (And I've noticed how wet you get when you're near me) The filthy words rolled off of his tongue like velvet. ‘’Don't think you have the upper hand here sweetheart.’’

‘’Even when I want you to fuck me, you still have to fucking argue with me.’’ You growled as your hands burrowed into his long raven hair

‘’Oh, but you like it this way.’’ He smirked in your ear, the cadence of his voice reducing your knees to that of fucking jelly.

"How do you know what I like? You never asked.’’ You flirted back, treading on dangerous waters with the man that is known for having paper-thin patience.

‘’Shut the fuck up.’’ Miguel clawed at your waist and then spun you around so the tops of your thighs were. digging into the translucent glass of his desk. All of a sudden, he placed his large palm just below your neck and shoved you flat onto the desk just with brute force. You were sure you were about to start salivating.

‘’Oh, mierda.’’ He breathed raggedly, his wandering hands ripping at your suit. ‘’Beautiful, dangerous, deadly. Pretending as if you're better than me... like you're not capable of killing.’’ He ripped at your suit some more, exposing more of your skin. Your breath trembled in anticipation as he bent down to whisper hotly in your ear, your ass already feeling his strong- oh. Shit. ‘’You drive my fucking crazy, you know that?’’ He ripped your suit until it was nothing but scraps. You were naked and desperate under him.

‘’Me vuelves loco.’’ (You make me insane).

‘’Stop fucking talking and just take me, Miguel.’’ You whined desperately as your cheek pressed coldly against the glass, your hair splaying all over your shoulders like a waterfall.

‘’Abre la boca.’’ (Open your mouth) He growled like an animal but you were too concerned with your wobbly legs and fraying patience, you replied with a stunned silence, almost jittering like a fool. A frown contorted on Miguel's perfect face, scrunching up his chiseled, picturesque features. His right hand gripped your hair pulling you up to him, his left hand brushed against your lips until he fully force-plunged two fingers in your mouth- saliva coating his fingers as you gagged and choked. Oh, he couldn't wait to get you on your knees- the thought provoked some visceral reaction within him.

‘’'That's it, good girl.’’ He grumbled the affirmation and it sent sparks shooting throughout your body.

Miguel rarely ever praised or complimented so this....fuck. ...this was different, you felt so damn special to him. The ever-so-broody Miguel O'Hara calling you a 'good girl' made an unstoppable moan rip through your throat. ‘’Oh, so you like to be loud? Seems like you can't shut up when you're getting fucked too.’’ He insulted adding insult to injury which just made you sweat.

‘’Is the venom from your fangs rushing straight to your head, Miguel? Or did you not hear what I said?’’ You spat with a distinct sharpness that he'd come to expect from you, he was glad to see he hadn't scared the personality out of you which he had the tendency to do to every single person he met. However, one thing he absolutely couldn't tolerate was backtalking- which you had a tendency to get away with most times but he thought this was the perfect situation to reinstate his rules. Miguel tugged on your hair again like his own personal leash.

‘’Puede que quiera joderte ahora mismo, pero no pienses ni por un segundo que no te haré sufrir en el proceso.’’ (I may want to fuck the shit out of you right now but don't think for a second that I won't make you suffer in the process) His voice was aggressive and heady and you were stiff with arousal, your pussy was aching for him.

‘’Por favor Miguel.’’ You begged softly and it made his gaze narrow and his fangs spike out of his gums.

At times like this, he was glad he had a suit that would come on and off as he pleased- right now he was sweating with need and he was thankful he was able to quickly rid of his suit. Miguel didn't think he would be this hard, but then again you did always have a knack for surprising him when he least expected it. His large palm smacked at your ass and he was happy to see a large indent of the outline he made. Like he had a claim on you.

‘’Miguel!’’ You whined like a bitch in heat.

He didn't listen to your plead, he didn't even tease you into it first, his rigid dick just slipped into your soaking wet heat and he'd never felt this pleasure...ever. You were seriously about to cry. He wanted you to. Your pussy molded around his dick, and you were afraid he wasn't even going to fit- but Miguel always finds a way. He felt so...fucking good. The dull ache inside of your stomach was twisting into a fit of knots and butterflies, he quite literally pulsated inside of you

"Tan apretado cariño.’’ (So tight sweetheart) Miguel's chest rumbled alongside his dirty words. Fucking hell, it was like you were vacuum sealed to his dick. He started rutting into you with abandon, without mercy.

You felt so good. He was so.. good...at this, as much as you hated to admit it. He kept pawing at your body, his talons creating the animalistic tension that much heavier between you.

‘’Mi vida...’’ He purred in your ear, going harder and faster with every pained moan that ripped through your throat like it was an incentive for him to keep going.

‘’So perfect for me. Squeezing me so well...Mierda.’’

‘’You want me?’’ You teased innocently as you twisted your head to look at him through doe eyes. His eyes were roaring red as his grip on your hips seeped into your skin harder.

‘’You know I do.’’ Miguel gritted through clenched teeth, baring his fangs. The sight just made you wetter. ‘’Let me show you how much.’’ He bent down and it felt like he was going to snap you in half, you were so close to reaching your peak. To add insult to injury, he bit down on the skin of your bare shoulder blade and blood dripped from his fangs when he pulled away- your moan in response was that of perfection. Fuck it hurt but it felt amazing.

‘’It's okay, mi vida, come for me. I won't tell.’’ Miguel cooed, showing a tender side to him as he kissed down your shoulder blade to your back. You obeyed his command and came onto him- violently, so fucking hard. A guttural groan rumbled from his chest and your honeyed pants brought him back to life- a cause and effect. He fucked you through your orgasm and allowed himself the privilege of finishing inside you.

Miguel pulled out of you, leaking against the back of your thigh in the process. The scene was filthy, completely obscene and you never thought this would actually happen. ‘’Stay still princesa.’’ He commanded and you actually listened to him. The pressure of Miguel's body left you exposed as your ears pricked up to hear a rustle of draws and a clattering of things behind you. You turned your head around and his hologram suit was back on, it hugged him so fucking tightly your knees were starting to shake again.

You felt his presence again as you felt a cloth clean up the leaks down your thighs. ‘’Muchas gracias, Miguel.’’ Smartass. You flirted and he just smirked back at you, helping you stand up straight and face him when he got you cleaned up. You gazed up at him, quite chipper if you were being completely honest. Maybe a good hard fucking from his was all you needed to straighten you out. His eyes were still greedy as they raked up and down your naked body.

‘’As much as I prefer you like this...here.’’ A hologram covered you and your suit was back on, fine lines and all- well, that's easier than what you have to go through every day to get it sitting nicely.

You gazed at the scraps of your suit that were on the floor. Jesus Christ, he fucked like an animal.

"Nice to know chivalry isn't dead.' You tiptoed so you could get closer to his face and kissed his cheek. ‘’Thanks for the fuck, Miguel. Also by the way, I'm still not letting you kill that kid.’’ You patted his shoulder sarcastically- toying with him even further. You just walked away from him and his platform, you left him in a stunned silence and a blank expression, he scoffed breathlessly as he turned around to see you saunter away so damn confidently.

‘’Princesa no tan rapida.’’ (Not so fast princess) He replied back with a broken half smile. He suddenly exposed his wrist and a web flew to your waist and he instantaneously pulled you back in front of him. The breathless expression on your face was something that needed to be showcased in galleries.

‘’Can't lose me again? Object permanence is a thing you know torombolo.’’ You joked and his brows furrowed slightly in response, his arms wrapped tightly around you.

‘’Don't joke about that mi vida.’’ Miguel's face had a sheen of concern and it made your stomach twist into butterflies. ‘’You could die.’’ His voice came across as more stern than intended but you didn't back away like anyone else would do- you accepted him for who he was.

‘’Oh, Miguel...Please, we'll figure it out. But that kid you're after is probably scared and alone- just like you were, just like I was and I don't want that to swallow him.’’

‘’But every time-‘’ You pressed your pointer finger to stop his lips from moving.

"Shush. I've always trusted you, Miguel, now I don't even think there's a point in me being your higher-up. If we work together, you don't have to be afraid.’’ You caressed his face tenderly and he got lost in the softness of your words and your ever so guileless eyes.

‘’Okay?’’ Miguel turned his head to kiss at your palm as an affirmation.

‘’Okay.’’

#miguel ohara #miguel o’hara #spiderman 2099 #spiderman #miguel ohara smut #across the spiderverse #across the spider verse spoilers #miguel spiderverse #miguel o’hara smut #atsv miguel #miguel o’hara angst #spiderverse x reader #spiderman into the spiderverse

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strawberrymilk-sunshine · 2 years

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OK, one more. I'm on a secret admirer thing right now. How about some head-cannons about the yandere vice-dorm leaders as a secret admirer.

Thank you!

Yes yes yes I can do that!

ALSO WAS ANYBODY GOING TO TELL ME THAT RUGGIE ISN'T THE VICE DORM LEADER OF SAVANNACLAW?! LIKE, I WAS SURE HE WAS, BUT I GUESS I WAS WRONG. (I'm adding him to this out of spite)

Warning(s): drugging, kidnapping, implications of wanting to injure the reader, mind control, accidental(?) gaslighting, stalking, Lilia's part might not be great because I genuinely had no idea what to do

Trey Clover

Trey would send you hand-made baked goods every day!

Often along with a short letter signed by "your secret admirer"

Along with the letters and baked goods, he also sends you flowers!

Of course, Trey is the first person you expect when your secret admirer's calling card so to say is sending you baked goods and flowers

But, luckily for him, he's good at throwing you off his trail. He'll send a few things that make you believe it could be someone else...

To be fair, you don't know many other people who attend NRC, maybe it is someone other than Trey.

As the days go on, the letters get... more intense.

It's clear this person, your secret admirer, wants you now.

Tonight, Trey's putting something special in the pastry he's making you

After you eat it, he'll visit you and bring you home with him.

"Morning, (Y/N). Did you have a good sleep? Did the pastry taste good? You know, I used a sprecial family recipe for tha- Huh? What's with that face? You don't have any reason to be shocked, I'm sure you knew this was going to happen, those letters I sent you did have a few red flags..."

Ruggie Bucchi

Ruggie would be very good at hiding his identity from you

I mean, don't you think a man like him would be good at keeping secrets?

Ruggie doesn't send you baked goods or flowers, or anything like that... he instead sends you stuff he either stole or bought with Leona's money.

Candies, jewels, food... anything Ruggie can find, he'll send to you (and keep a bit for himself, obviously)

Day after day, you'll be given these gifts... and you appreciate it so much, you wish you knew who was giving them to you!

You'll even tell Ruggie about it. You'll tell him you have some kind of secret admirer, and how they've been giving you lots of gifts, and how badly you wish you knew who was sending them so you could thank that person directly!

Ruggie smirks to himself when you say that.

"Should I tell 'em...? Nah, not yet. I'll let things keep playing out until they give hints that they actually like me. Shishishi! Won't that be fun? (Y/N)'s gonna be real shocked when they find out it's me giving 'em those gifts! Grammy likes them, so marriage won't be a problem... I'm sure the rest o' the family will love 'em too!"

Jade Leech

Jade's love letters are... special.

The letters are very hastily written, like whoever wrote it's life depended on it.

They talk about hurting you, doing these horrible things to you... whoever your secret admirer is, they have a very messed up mind.

Jade makes you believe you can go to him for support.

"That sounds terrible, (Y/N). But you have no reason to worry, you can always turn to Octavinelle for protection."

You continue receiving these threatening letters... they get worse every day.

When you start to actually feel unsafe, you remember how Jade told you that you can always go to Octavinelle for protection, and while you don't exactly want to go to them for protection... what other option do you have?

The moment Floyd sees the letter, he tells you the truth.

"Oh yeah, Jade wrote that."

Huh. Jade Leech wrote these threatening letters to you? Jade Leech, vice housewarden of Octavinelle... the dorm you're currently in? Uh oh.

"Dear me, I wasn't intending on revealing myself this soon... though I suppose I have no choice now. I was intending on building your trust towards me and once things have progressed enough, reveal that I was the author, then breaking you entirely so you love only me, but... I guess I'll have to construct another plan. (Y/N), this will only hurt for a second."

Jamil Viper

Jamil, much like Trey, sends you home-made food.

You like the food so much! Who knew having a secret admirer could be this fun?

Jamil is good at keeping himself hidden from you, he's also a patient person. He'll keep himself hidden for as long as is necessary.

Kalim often invites you to the parties he throws... though, strangely enough, whenever you arrive, he seems not to recall inviting you.

"Oh well! The more the merrier, you know? I'm sure Jamil won't mind making a bit more food for you!"

But Jamil never has to make more food for you. Almost like he knew you were coming even though Kalim didn't.

One day, you receive a letter.

Come meet me in Scarabia dorm's lounge. I'll be waiting for you. - Your secret admirer

When you go there, you find Kalim. Kalim, standing there, empty.

"(Y/N)... he's waiting for you."

You hear a whisper in your ear, and then you forfeit all control of your body to Scarabia's vice housewarden.

"I'm glad everything worked out in the end."

Rook Hunt

Oh Rook, where to begin with Rook?

He sends you love letters every day in the form of poems signed by "ton admirateur secret"

Due to the ecessive use of French, you have your suspicions as to who's sending you these

Vil is close to Rook, so you ask him about it, but...

"No, it can't be Rook. He only has that kind of fascination with the inhuman students, like the beastmen, fae, and what little merfolk we have here. He wouldn't send that to a typical, not to mention magicless, human like you. It must be someone else."

Having no other evidence, you just assume Vil's right, and Rook isn't sending you letters...

It drives you crazy

You're determined to find out who is sending these, you begin staying up several nights in a row, just reading these letters over and over and over again...

You can only come to the conclusion that it was Rook.

So you ask him about it one day and...

"Oui. It was I sending those letters to you. I assume this is you coming to accept my confession?"

Well, even if you try to run, you can't escape from Rook. Even if you do, you two attend the same school so he'll just keep stalking you...

"Hm? What was that, mon amour? You do accept? Merveilleux! Let's talk to the Headmage sometime tomorrow! We'll discuss you transferring to my dorm so we can be even closer- Quel? You say you don't want that? Oh, mon amour, you have no idea what you truly want."

Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia is a very sweet secret admirer

He hides the fact that he is, to put it lightly, obssesed with you amazingly well (the others could learn a thing or two from him...)

It's just cute love letters! No stalking implications, no dubious baked goods, no talking about hurting you, nothing, just genuine confessions of love from a secret admirer!

Lilia can't help but watch over you

And then, well... dead bodies start turning up at the school

Of course, the Headmage only cares about what this will do to the overall public image of NRC...

Lilia takes care of you, from a distance

Lilia shows up directly at your door one day. He hands you a sewing needle, and then disappears into nothing.

A sewing needle? Why?

Well... spinning wheels aren't exactly that common nowadays.

As you examine the sewing needle, you accidentally prick your finger on it...

The next thing you know, you're in Lilia's arms

"Ah, you're finally awake, my dear. Did you enjoy your hundred-year-long dream? No no, there's no reason to cry! I know this is hard for you to understand... I know you're scared and confused, but everything will turn out ok. I only did this for your sake. To protect you."

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fayes-fics · 1 year

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Innocence Pt V

Innocence series masterpost

PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Benedict teaches his new wife how to ride (not horses).

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, sex education, dirty talk, slight exhibitionism, vaginal sex, woman on top, a smidge of food play.

Word Count: 3.2 k

Author’s Note: Sorry it's taken a while to get this next installment up. Thanks to @makaylan for the read through. I hope you enjoy <3

You wake up to a strange sensation. Something warm and soft on the swell of your bottom as you lay face down. It feels like… lips? …Kissing?

You blink open your eyes and crane your head over your shoulder. There is your new husband of fewer than twelve hours. And yes, indeed, he is kissing your bare bottom, the sheet pulled back around your calves, warmed by a fire already roaring in your martial bedroom.

“Benedict?” you call softly, your voice laden with sleep.

He stops his actions and tilts his head to look up at you, his hazy hooded eyes so beguiling.

“Good morning, wife,” his tone is husky and pitched low; it makes a tiny shiver run down your spine.

“What are you doing back there?” you question lightheartedly.

“I am enjoying my wife’s bottom. Does she have a problem with that?” he teases, his teeth snagging on your left buttock as he lightly slaps your other cheek.

You squeal and squirm on the mattress. “No,” you admit.

He chuckles, then pushes up onto all fours clambering over you until his lips capture yours, turning your body slightly to meet him.

“How do you feel today?” he asks, nuzzling your cheek.

“Mmm, wonderful,” you confess, twisting under him so you face up.

Today you do feel different. Like you are finally a woman. You are married now, and while you doubtlessly have many things to learn, you feel nothing but excitement and wonder about what else may come. It makes you feel emboldened, flirtatious, and ready to enjoy new adventures with this wondrous man who is now your husband.

He settles over you, and you moan slightly at the press of his hot rigid cock between your bare thighs.

“Are you ready to learn more things, or does the lady need breakfast first?” he inquires airily, planting kisses on your jaw.

The mere mention of the word breakfast has your stomach growling loudly, and he giggles at the sound. You barely had a chance to eat at the whirlwind that was your wedding reception; you were also a little too excited for your wedding night to bother.

“Well, I think we have our answer,” he sniggers. “Luckily, I asked my staff to return early this morning.”

“Can we have breakfast in bed, husband?” you ask; that newfound boldness reveals itself in asking for what you want, “together, naked?”

His eyes flash appreciatively, and his lopsided grin turns deadly. “I definitely married so very, very well,” he growls, echoing his sentiment from the previous night, reaching over to ring a bell on his bedside table.

He is back on you, kissing a hot line down your neck, when there is a brief knock on the door a few moments later.

“Come in,” Benedict calls out, barely lifting his lips from your collarbone.

You squeak as an older man appears in the doorway; he blanches at first, taken aback but quickly schools his face to one of passive indifference. You attempt to grab the sheet and cover yourself to preserve some modesty. Still, Benedict seems utterly unphased by the gentleman seeing him or, indeed, you, completely naked, entwined in bed together.

“Ahh, Mr Smith. Good morning. Please, can you bring breakfast here for myself and my delectable new wife? Something light but filling, toast perhaps?” he asks casually, twisting to look at the man.

“Certainly, sir, will that be all?” the polite voice rings out.

“Could you throw another log on the fire? I fear I did not set it up well earlier.”

The man bustles to the fireplace as Benedict’s lips close around your nipple.

“Benedict!” you admonish, your body flexing against him on instinct despite your consternation. “Your valet is right there!” you hiss through clenched teeth, nodding at the back of the man re-stoking the fire.

“Oh my love, we are newlyweds; I fully expect our staff to walk in on us fucking all over the house,” he drawls, running his nose over your pebbled nub, “as I suspect, do they. You should not feel ashamed.”

“But…” your protest dies as he surges up and catches your lips in a deep kiss, his fingers teasing that same damp nipple as he does so. You can't help the moan into his mouth as he does it.

“Yes darling, that's it,” he gloats, “in fact, I hope they will still be finding us doing this in forty years,” he smiles against your lips. “I plan to fuck you every day that I can,” he hums as you hear the door to the room click quietly closed with his valet’s departure.

“You are a menace,” you assert, lightly slapping his shoulder in rebuke.

“I’m your menace now, Mrs Bridgerton,” he teases, grabbing your hands and pushing them onto the pillow, glancing pointedly at your wedding rings, “and there is absolutely nothing you can do about that. You, I'm afraid, are stuck with me,” he chuckles, lips once again attacking your neck. You sigh in faux annoyance, settling into his sensual assault, your eyes closing from sheer pleasure.

A few moments later, as you are still exchanging endless sensuous kisses, there is a knock at the door, and Mr Smith re-enters with a tray of food under silver cloches.

“Excellent,” Benedict exclaims gleefully. “Please leave it on the ottoman at the end of the bed there, Smith.”

His valet does as bidden, and with a brief nod of “Sir, my Lady,” which makes your cheeks redden, he departs.

“Oh god, I’ll never get used to being the lady of the house,” you exclaim.

“You had better, my darling; all the staff will be looking to you for how you wish the house to be run,” Benedict laughs as he crawls down the bed and picks up a cloche.

“It's your house, Benedict,” you frown.

“Not anymore, my love,” he reminds, a warm hand encircling your ankle and tugging gently. “Now get down here and eat some of this food—I need you energised for what comes next.”

As elegantly as you can, you spin around and join Benedict at the foot of the bed. He pulls you flush to his body and feeds you a corner of deliciously buttered, still-warm toast.

“What comes next?” you ask brightly after you chew and swallow the bite.

“You, my darling, are going to learn to ride,” he smirks. “Me, that is.”

“Oh.. is it like riding a horse?” you ask, genuinely curious.

He snorts. “I hope you find it rather more pleasurable. And there is something to keep you mounted nice and squarely,” he leers, pressing his cock to your hip as you shake your head at his innuendo, even as a bemused smile tugs at your lips.

“Do I get a whip to keep you in line, just like a real jockey?” you quip in jest, again that new sense of being a wife and a woman making you say things you never thought you might.

His mouth falls open slightly, and his eyes have an appreciative gleam. “Oh darling, do you want there to be?” his voice dropping to a smokey rumble.

“Depends on if you are going to behave, my good stallion,” you murmur, loving the banter, raising an eyebrow as you take a triangle of toast for yourself.

“What happened to my innocent little thing?” he counters, a warm hand caressing your bottom, “and who is this delightful minx who replaced her?”

“You corrupted her with your wiles Mr Bridgerton,” you volley back, tossing your hair in a way you hope is coquettish. “A good teacher cannot complain when an eager pupil advances under tutelage.”

“I am a good teacher, am I?” he purrs, the hand stroking lazily over your lower spine.

“The very best,” your flattery sincere, “one day, this student wants to learn to talk as her teacher does. Such wonderful filthy things.”

“Well then, that can be your next lesson,” he suggests, nuzzling your hair.

“Excellent,” you enthuse. “Now, am I going to eat that jam there on toast… or from somewhere on your body, dear husband?” you tease, pointing to a pot of preserves.

He groans and grabs you. “You cannot say things like that,” rolling you on top of him, “and expect me to do anything but want to be inside you.”

“You are the one who said we needed to eat,” you giggle, reaching for another bit of toast and jamming it into his mouth rather inelegantly as you lay atop him, his warm skin delightful under your own, his cock persistent, branding against your belly.

He guffaws around the slice and rips it with his teeth, pushing some between your lips. “I can eat and be inside you at the same time, my love,” he utters in a sinful tone.

“Well, then do it,” you challenge, swallowing your bite of food.

He raises an eyebrow and shuffles under you, surging his hips upwards, his rigid cock sliding between your thighs. “I will,” he threatens playfully.

“Please do,” your whisper enchanted, licking an errant toast crumb from your lip.

“Oh, I was going to get that,” he pouts.

With a raised eyebrow, you reach for a spoonful of jam, and he watches as you smear some over your lips.

“Then come and get it, Mr Bridgerton,” you murmur, looking down into his rapidly dilating eyes.

“Oh, Mrs Bridgerton,” he rumbles, his lips chasing yours, his tongue lathing over your lips, sucking and gathering all the jam there, swirling its sweetness into your joined mouth as you kiss. Then you cry into his mouth as he effortlessly thrusts his hips, surging into your body. He feels just as he did last night, so huge and invasive. You stutter a breath as he just holds you there, allowing you to adjust to the feeling of him inside you again.

“Benedict…” you sigh, some of your bravado slipping away with the pure tide of sensation you feel being so viscerally invaded.

“Are you ready, my darling,” he questions, his voice velvet and decadent. “Try sitting up on me,” he adds, his hands grabbing yours to offer leverage.

With him still feeling heavy and so large inside, you slowly slide your knees on either side of his thighs, then draw them up so they are close to his waist, moaning as the sensation of being hunched over him changes the angle of his cock, a pull that is utterly delicious.

“Yes, that's it,” he encourages, “now pull up off me.”

You unfurl your body and sit upright; again, the tug of his cock inside feels almost painfully good, and your clit brushes over his public hair, the tickle so rousing.

“Oh wow,” you gasp, gyrating slightly to feel how good it feels to be speared onto his cock, but you have complete control over the motions.

“You like it, my love?” He knows the answer.

“You feel huge,” you answer honestly, and he groans at the compliment.

“Now try moving, my darling,” he urges. ��Push up with your thighs and then sink back down,” he tutors, his hands guiding yours onto his torso as he moves to grasp your hips.

You push up and feel the drag of his cock along your walls, and it feels exhilarating. Then you sink back down, and your eyes go wide, and your lips fall open with a loud moan. It feels exquisite. Something about the angle and the way your swollen clit snags against his body as you rock down is so compelling and powerful.

“Oh my god,” you curl your fingers and scratch along his abs as you rotate your hips just a touch, “this is wondrous.”

He smiles a devastating grin, “I knew you would like it,” he preens. “Now giddyup my love, ride me,” he dares you, and something wild and fiery cracks open in your chest, a smouldering heat that burns. You want to ride his cock until you are both screaming.

Pushing up and sinking, you establish a steady rhythm that works for you, encouraged by his little noises and grip on your hips. He feels divine sliding in and out of you, just the ache you want to feel. Like last night, but somehow better, somehow familiar now. You experiment with pace, enjoying a lingering slow downstroke and a quicker snap-up.

“You are enjoying this, aren't you?” he murmurs, impressed.

“Yessss,” you chant, head thrown back and eyes closed now. His body feels searing between your thighs, under your fingertips and deep inside you.

You lean back a little and move your hands to his thighs, grasping the strong muscle there and open your eyes to look down at him, his mouth slack, his eyes laser focussed on you, on your face and darting down to your breasts as they jiggle with every drop. You lean further back and emit a huge groan as somehow you have found a spot that feels so good; little sparks go off in your head like fireworks. You start to move harder, faster, greedy, so greedy, for more.

“So… fucking… good,” you rasp a word with each downstroke as his fingers band tighter over your hipbones, your knees chafing the bedding, dropping without thought for anything but the feeling coiling tighter and tighter in your gut.

You grab one of his hands and press it to your breast, leaning forward into his hold and changing the angle of your hips, making circular motions, shuddering as he seems to nudge every spot inside as you grind down, selfishly stalking your pleasure.

“My wanton little wife, look at you,” his voice velvety, clever fingers tweaking your nipples as you groan loudly.

His body flexes delightfully under you as he reaches behind for the pot of jam, dipping his fingers in and reaching to paint a swirl over your breasts. Without breaking your rhythm, you place a firm hand on his chest and halt his hand. He frowns until you seize his jam-covered fingers and instead bring them to your mouth, lasciviously licking them clean as you rise and fall, lathing the warm, sweet, sticky pads of his fingers over your tongue in time with your movements. The noise he makes is inhuman, and you feel a surge of power through your body as he pushes up into you, desperate for more. You just smirk at him and press him harder into the mattress, allowing his hand to drop away from your mouth.

The power of this position, to have him so vulnerable under you, is a potent toxin, your thighs burning from the exertion, your blood simmering as you spider a hand up the now-damp centre line of his breastbone and grasp his chin between your thumb and fingers.

“Are you enjoying this, husband?” you tease breathily.

His response is a nod and low growl; you love how riled up he is. Shuffling your knees wider, you lean over him, the warmth of his belly rubbing yours as you keep fucking onto his cock, slower now, your lips ghosting over his, still holding his chin tight.

“Tell me in detail, darling,” with a triumphant arched eyebrow; you echo the words he used the first night he stole into your room.

Awe and surprise are written across his features, pupils blown wide, mouth opening a fraction.

“I am a good teacher,” he gusts out, and you just twist your mouth into a smirk, awaiting his answer. He licks his lips, and you feel the hot breath from it, his hands sliding over your bottom. “I want you to fuck me hard, wife,” he begins. “Ride me until your body is shaking and screaming. Make yourself come on my cock, milk me, darling,” that silken tone makes a shiver race down your spine and your cunt clench around him.

He grunts at your vice-like pulse, and the need to follow his advice vibrates your very being. You kiss him hungrily, moaning into his mouth as your tongues dance, your hand curling his jaw as you kiss over and over, still rocking gently on him, unable to stop. Sitting up again, grasping his hands in yours, lacing your fingers, you rise and fall in a new quick pattern, starting to pant and fuck yourself roughly. He moans through gritted teeth at your new onslaught.

One of his hands guides yours down your body to the apex of your thighs, where you are roughly fucking onto him. Without words, you know what he is suggesting, and when your joined fingers slide against your clit, you feel hurtling straight towards oblivion, wound so tight.

A strong pulse runs up your spine, causing you to buck hard over him. He surges up strongly into you, meeting you on your downward thrust, fucking himself so deep it feels like a new ache tugging a line inside, something making you mindless, crushing your fingers between your bodies as they furiously circle your throbbing clit.

“Don't stop,” he chants as you close your eyes and ride so fiercely the bed squeaks slightly. He groans loudly and stares up at you desperately, a bead of sweat forming on his brow that you ache to lick off.

Then with a scream that feels like it rips your lungs, you convulse around him, slumping deep, your thighs trembling, blood rushing in your ears, vibrations coursing through your body from a tingle in your scalp to spasms in your toes.

He calls your name and curses long and low as his fingers sink into the meat of your thighs, and as you flutter around him, you feel that same bloom inside, his warm release coating your walls.

You collapse on top of him, exertion and satisfaction making your muscles feel languid and weak. Your head rests on his collarbone as his hands release their grip and sweep gently over your back, mapping the notches of your spine as you recover with deep, ragged breaths.

“Well done, darling,” his voice sounds wrecked and scratchy, his thighs twitching under yours as little aftershocks spasm through your frame. You feel him soften inside your body but don't want to move, and he seems reluctant, too, his arms holding you down onto him in a tight embrace. “I don't want to leave your body,” he admits in a whisper, “that was too good.”

You chuckle, feeling a lightness spread through your body, a mellow fizz under your skin. “Mmmm, then don't, husband,” you buzz quietly. “Just stay inside me until we are ready to go again.”

He laughs softly into your hair, kissing your scalp. “That may be a while, my love,” he confides.

“I have all the time in the world, husband,” you smile, twisting to look at him, landing a kiss on his stubbly jaw.

“Hmm, that is very true,” he concurs, his eyes sparkling with tender mischief as he holds your gaze. “After all, this is only the morning of day one of our honeymoon. There are another nine to go; just imagine all the things we shall get up to,” he murmurs, his tone laced with sensual promise as his fingers trace up your back.

You can hardly wait.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @wysteria-clad @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet

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almostgenerallyalways · 2 years

Text

cross my heart

Pairing: Jake Seresin x fem!reader (pilot!reader - callsign: Savannah) Category: smut / NSFW (18+), fluff because I want everyone to be happy always Word count: 3,6k CW: language, allusion to past bad sexual experience (non explicit), me not having any idea how the navy works, literally googled “aircraft carrier diagram”, don’t expect any actual details about the mission lol Author’s note: first time writing tgm and went a lil off the rails. shoutout to @callsignvalley @seasonsbloom @ohcaptains @clints-lucky-arrow @steadfastconviction and like, a lot of other amazing writers in this fandom whose fics I obsessively read in October Summary: On the eve of what may be the biggest mission in your naval career, the answer to your problem comes to you in the form of Lt. Jake Seresin

Squeezing into the squad galley at a quarter to nine on the eve of the mission, Jake is surprised to see you sitting at the steel high-top table, still in uniform. Days on an aircraft carrier generally start early and end early, and considering the stakes of tomorrow’s mission, the rest of the squad retired to their bunks immediately after dinner.

“Hey, Vanny, still up?” He enquires, noting the way you’re slumped over the counter, head in your palms. He flicks the switch on the electric kettle sitting on the small counter.

After a moment, you look over at him. “So are you, Seresin.”

He gestures to his outfit, sweatpants and a white t-shirt. “I tried to sleep, still too wired. Thought I’d come make myself an herbal tea.”

That makes the corner of your mouth twitch, to his relief. “Can you make me one?”

He sets to work, and a short while later, sits down on the stool next to you, handing you a steaming mug. You mumble a thanks, and both of you sip chamomile in silence for a minute, before you apparently grow tired of Jake staring a hole in the side of your head.

“What?” you glare at him.

He smiles, amused. “Just wondering what’s keeping our unflappable Savannah up the night before a mission. Nervous?”

You stare at the wall. “No.” You take a sip of tea, then concede: “Yes. I guess. In a way.”

He goes a little soft at the way your cheekbones color slightly, and tentatively reaches out to rest his hand on your wrist, still holding your mug. “It’s okay, you know. I know you haven’t done as many of these as some of us, but don’t think anyone flying tomorrow isn’t feeling nervous. Or scared.” He rubs his thumb over the protrusion of your wrist bone, soothingly, he hopes. “I still get scared.”

He wouldn’t say that to just anyone on the squad, and he thinks you know it. In preparation for this mission you two were paired up often, and there’s a trust between you that can only come from eight weeks of preparing for life-or-death together. You’re a good pilot, a great one: not as much of a risk-taker as some of the squad, but solid and dependable, immaculate in your execution, and a stealthier flyer than anyone there. The number of times you snuck up on him and had him locked on your radar before he even realized you were anywhere in the vicinity is, frankly, a little embarrassing to him.

Though you didn’t know each other beforehand, you having been a few years behind him at TOPGUN, he feels like he knows you now – what makes you tick.

So it’s all the more flooring when you turn to him, and after a moment of seeming to examine him, brows furrowed, you ask: “Seresin, will you have sex with me?”

He chokes on his tea, a little, takes a deep pull of air and pulls back his hand from your wrist. He must have misheard you, so he asks, in a tone much higher-pitched than he would like: “Excuse me?”

You don’t seem bothered by his reaction, continuing to fix him with those big eyes, jaw set in a determined look he’s come to know all too well over the past weeks, on the tarmac, in your jet. Never here, in the cramped squad galley past bedtime, looking at him like you’ve made up your mind. “I asked if you’ll have sex with me. Tonight, to be clear. Now, ideally, considering we’re up at 5 AM.”

He turns towards you more, opens and closes his mouth once or twice, before settling on: “Vanny, I need a bit more context here.”

Feels a little like he should kick himself for not just saying yes, Savannah, please, lead the way.

You turn away your gaze from him again, and the color in your cheeks heightens, but he’s not sure he likes it this time. He watches you swallow, before you speak, not sounding as sure of yourself as a minute ago: “I’m not scared, exactly, for tomorrow. Or maybe I am. In any case, I don’t have any illusions about what’s at stake. I know we might not come back.”

And there it is again, the determined set of your jaw: “And for some reason, and trust me – I know it’s ridiculous – for some reason the idea my brain is stuck on is that the last time I had sex was fucking terrible, with my fucking terrible ex who made me feel small and worthless, and I just… don’t want his to be the last hands on me.”

And if that doesn’t fucking break his heart in two, because you deserve – so much more. Everything, Jake thinks, one hand somehow already on your thigh, and it’s all he can do to stop himself from tangling the other one in your hair straight away, from burying his face into your neck, because he needs to know one last thing: “Vanny, why me?”

You’re silent for a beat, and his eyes snap up to yours. He doesn’t know what you see in his face, but it must be good – you smile that wry smile of yours, the one that always feels like a reward to him. You reach out and run the back of your fingers over the side of his throat, and he swallows hard. “Well, Seresin, I’m not going to lie – First of all because you’re here, and I thought you might say yes.”

Then your eyes soften a little, and if he had any hesitation before, you wipe it out altogether: “But mostly because I trust you. Completely. And if you said no – which I would totally understand – I know you’d still get it. That you won’t hold it against me.”

You can’t know, he thinks, how much that means to him. You weren’t around for his more volatile Hangman years, rarely even use his callsign. He’s matured a lot since then, has learned to put the squad before his ego, but still – his reputation follows him. But you never – never held that against him. He started with you from a clean slate.

“Alright, jeez.” He says, grinning, trying to keep his tone light, probably undermined by his now desperate grip on your thigh, the urgent way he’s already pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your jaw, the fact that he feels his sweats straining against him. “Could’ve bought a guy a drink first, but fine, Savannah, I’m in.”

* * *

You stumble back to Seresin’s bunk – as a higher-ranking officer, he has private quarters, while you share with Halo and Quicksand, who are hopefully long since asleep. You try to make as little noise as possible, in the narrow, echoing steel hallways, because you don’t need anyone finding out about this: fraternizing is strictly off-limits, even more so within the same squadron, and your CO would boot both of you off the mission without a second thought.

More likely they’d just boot you, because Seresin’s got double insignia to your single, and he’s a man; this is still the Navy, and you’re a realist. So you try to be quiet.

But it’s real goddamn hard with Seresin’s hands under your shirt, burning trails up the side of your ribs, and his body flush with your back, nose pressed behind your ear. You fumble with the doorhandle, and you feel, more than hear, his hot chuckle as he nips at the skin over your pulse point. “What’s the matter, baby girl, do you need help?”

You shoot him a glare over your shoulder, but it cannot be convincing, at this point. The latch finally clicks, and he scoops you up, depositing you in the cramped, windowless room.

He locks the door behind him, and for a second you just stare at each other, by the low light of the reading lamp left on over his bunk. The carrier creaks around you, the sounds of its merciless progress through the high seas ever-present, seeping up from the engine room three decks below, reminding you that every minute brings you closer to the inevitability of tomorrow’s mission.

All day it’s been making your skin crawl, but right now, with Jacob Seresin looking at you like that, you think you wouldn’t notice if you were down in the engine room itself. Or standing in the middle of I-5.

One more beat, and it’s like someone’s fired a starting pistol: his hands cradle the side of your face, and he’s bearing down on you, finally kissing you in earnest. Your brain blanks out for a hot second.

Somewhere in the back of your head, it occurs to you that you’ve never been kissed like this before, and it would almost be sweet, the way he’s pressing his forehead to yours, roughly tangling his fingers in your hair, if it wasn’t for the hard length of his erection pressed into your abdomen.

He's talking to you, cursing incoherently under his breath, and of course he’s a talker – of course he never shuts up – and you have to grin, pull back for an instant. “Damn, Seresin. If I’d known you’d be so into the idea, I’d have asked you back on base.”

He chuckles darkly, hands never leaving your hair. “It might surprise you to learn, Vanny,” he presses another kiss to your mouth, to your throat, “that I’ve thought about this a fair amount. I mean, I’m willing to bet every guy on the squad has, but I’m definitely bringing up the average.”

It makes your knees weak, thinking about him thinking about you, and you need to take back some semblance of control, so you make quick work of the buttons on your shirt, shrugging out of the fabric. You’re just wearing a black sports bra, because everything on the carrier has to be functional, not pretty, but still Seresin seems to come up short for a moment, eyes drinking you in.

As if snapping out of it, he groans. “Baby girl. You gotta give me some warning before you pull stuff like that.” He kisses you again and guides you back, insistently, until the back of your thighs hits the edge of the bunk. His calloused hands roam the planes of your exposed skin, your arms, your stomach, your sides.

“You’re so beautiful, Vanny,” he’s murmuring into your ear, seemingly almost trembling as your hands find their way under his shirt, travel up the solid muscle of his back. “Tell me what you want, sweetheart. I’ll give you anything you want.”

You meet his eye, but find you suddenly can’t get the words out. You don’t know if you’re just getting shy (and how inopportune that would be, right now, with Jake Seresin’s thumbs hooking under the stretchy material of your bra, your nipples responding immediately, goosebumps appearing on your skin), or if it’s the intensity of his gaze that has you at a loss for words. You open your mouth, close it again.

“I’ll tell you what I want then, Vanny,” he says, kissing you again, hard, one hand traveling down to grab your ass. “I wanna make you forget anyone else ever had their hands on you. I wanna make you feel so good you won’t remember ever feeling small.” His hands fumble with the button on your khakis, and your head buzzes with the feeling of him, face pressed into your neck, speaking directly into your ear. “I wanna make you cum so hard you won’t remember that guy’s name, alright, Vanny? Is that what you want?”

You already feel like you’re about to explode, but you manage to wrench his face into your field of vision, meeting his eyes. Standing your ground. So he knows you really fucking mean it when you say, “Yes, Seresin. I want all of that.”

The devil himself couldn’t slap away the smirk that spreads over his face, as he looks down at you, his hand finally dipping into your soaked panties. When his fingers make contact with your clit, your knees buckle, and his other arm wraps around you, holding you up. “Alright, baby girl.” He inhales deeply, into the skin of your throat. “But you’re gonna have to call me Jake.”

* * *

You lose track of time shortly after he makes you cum on his tongue. You think you may cry, you’re not sure, because you feel like your brain is on reduced capacity as Jake comes up to grin down at you, as he rubs his thumb over your cheekbone, kissing you tenderly as if he didn’t just make your entire body short-circuit. “You taste so good, baby girl,” he’s saying, dragging his mouth along your jaw. “You look so pretty coming for me, Vanny, I wanna make you feel good always, wanna hear you say my name-”

“Jake,” you interrupt him, holding him by the back of his neck, forcing his eyes to focus. Your hand goes to the front of his sweats, where there’s a dark stain of pre-cum, and your brain doesn’t know what to do with that information.

You trace your palm down his length, impossibly hard, and he groans, closing his eyes, so you call him back to attention: “Jake. Please tell me you have a condom.”

And of course he does, you wouldn’t have expected otherwise. He stands up to get it, takes the opportunity to step out of his sweats. Your mouth goes a little dry.

His pupils are fully blown as you nudge him back onto the thin mattress, move to take him into your mouth, but you barely get the chance to run your tongue down his length before he’s pulling you up by your hair, gently, restrained: “Baby girl. Vanny. I’m not gonna last three seconds if you do that right now.”

He takes the condom from you, tears it open and rolls it down his cock, and for the first time since you crossed the threshold into this room you have a second and a half to really look at him, to think, and you think:

Fuck.

Because somewhere between your proposition in the squad galley and this moment, right now: you sitting on Jake Seresin’s thighs, watching him laying down before you, glistening with sweat, looking up at you like you’re the only thing that could possibly matter in the world, something changed. You know it. You can’t bear to let yourself wonder if he knows it.

Then he’s pulling you in towards him, almost dragging you down for an open-mouthed kiss, and you’re gripping the base of his cock, letting yourself sink down onto it, going slow to accommodate the stretch of him.

All the while, he’s speaking lowly, frantically, directly into your mouth: “Vanny, Vanny, Vanny, fuck, baby girl, my girl, feel so good, feel so –”

Cuts off when you bottom out, and the expression on his face would make you laugh if it wasn’t for everything else that is happening right now. As it is, your heart does a funny little jump, and all you care about right now is making him feel good, make him feel like he’s made you feel.

You tentatively roll your hips, and he groans, so you keep doing that, supporting yourself with a hand on his shoulder, finding your rhythm, and it’s not long before his fingertips are digging into your hips so hard you think he may leave marks, and you want that, want to go up into the sky tomorrow with his fingers printed on your skin; proof that this happened, that for this moment deep in the cavernous steel halls of this Nimitz carrier, Jake Seresin made you feel just like this.

“Vanny.” He’s saying, and you brush your hand over his jaw, feeling like this whole ship could sink right now and you wouldn’t care. “Vanny, beautiful girl,” he brings his palm to your clit, presses his fingers between your bodies, “You’re doing so good, Vanny, I can’t fucking – I’m gonna – I need you to come, baby girl, you’re so good for me, you feel so good on me, you look fucking perfect on top of me, I can’t –”

“Jake.” Your voice breaks, and you’re there, right where he wants you, right where you want to be, and your whole brain stutters and whites out, and you’re kissing him desperately as you come, emotion high in your throat.

Feel his shaky hold on your hips, fucking into you erratically now, any sense of control gone. It’s only a few more moments before he’s groaning into your shoulder, a guttural sound that hits somewhere deep in your chest, and you ride him through it, burying your face into the side of his, telling him how good he’s been, how perfect.

It takes a minute or two for either of you to breathe anywhere near normally again, and then you’re drawing yourself gently off him, and he takes a second to wrap the condom in a tissue before he’s pulling you back down to his chest, pressing kisses to your temple. “Holy shit, Vanny,” he rasps, and he seems delirious with it, and you’re glad it’s not just you – you feel absolutely stupid with it.

You prop yourself up on one elbow to look down at him, and you can’t help the grin that breaks out across your face at the sight of him. You wipe a bead of sweat off his brow, leaning down to kiss the hollow of his throat, his mouth, his cheek, murmuring thank you, thank you, thank you.

He wraps his arms fully around you, so you collapse against his chest again, groaning: “Knock it the fuck off, Savannah, I swear to God if you say thank you one more time –”, but the rest of that sentence is forgotten as he buries his face in the crown of your head.

“Stay a little while.” You hear him say, muffled. “I know you have to wake up in your bunk, but just… don’t leave yet, baby girl.”

And you’re fairly fucking sure you’d give him anything he wanted right about now, so you stay, letting him rub circles into the skin of your back. After a while he murmurs, voice heavy with sleep: “I’m glad you’re not my wingman tomorrow. I don’t think I could’ve done this, if…”

He trails off into nothing, but you get it, understand what he’s trying to tell you, and you wrap your arm around his waist a little tighter, keep on laying there listening to his heartbeat until its slowing rhythm tells you he’s fallen asleep.

* * *

The mission is fucking terrifying, but you do what you do best: shut the non-Navy part of your brain off and fly like you’ve been trained to. Don’t think, just do.

“Hell fucking YES, Halo!” You shout, as you clear the last danger zone, heart in your throat, and she laughs, exhilarated. You and her are a well-oiled machine, completely in tune, playing off the beat of each other’s actions and reactions.

It’s intoxicating as always. There’s something about being up in the air, hitting every mark exactly as planned, then abruptly changing gears, accounting for the unaccountable – it makes you feel larger than life. Makes you feel like you were born to be up there.

You take a few seconds to enjoy the feeling, now that you’re safe to do so, and follow your lead fighter in the direction of the carrier. Clear skies all the way there.

It’s also fucking exhausting. By the time you climb out of your jet and hit the searing tarmac of the flight deck, you’re exhausted, drenched in sweat. You feel like you’ve used all the available adrenaline in your body, and you’re ready to keel over.

Then Jake’s wingman comes in, closely followed by Jake himself - the very last jet to land.

Always with the penchant for the dramatic.

You chug water, waiting for him to emerge, trying to calm the frantic beating of your heart. People are excited now – the last pilot safely on deck, minimal damage. Mission accomplished. There’s something charged in the air, relieved, exhilarated even.

You watch Jake take his helmet off, his eyes immediately searching the throng of people around him, before he spots you.

When he starts towards you, pushing past engineers and pilots and LSO’s with the widest fucking grin you’ve ever seen on his face, you know you’re in deep trouble. Your stomach swoops. It doesn’t stop your own smile from spreading.

He comes to a halt in front of you, too close for propriety. The proximity makes your skin flush, which is a feat, considering you’ve just spent the better part of an hour roasting in the cockpit of a Super Hornet.

“Seresin.” You look up at him, telling yourself you can’t kiss him. You really can’t kiss him right here in the middle of the flight deck, if you have any sense of self-preservation left for your career, you remind yourself; but the point is moot when he lifts you, extra fifteen pounds of flight gear and all, into his arms.

You let out a surprised laugh, and over Jake’s shoulder, you see Halo giving you a look, like: really?, but after another second passes, the corners of her mouth twitch up, and she nods at you almost imperceptibly.

And Jake, his sweat-drenched face pressing into your neck, is whispering: “Alright, Vanny, seeing as how you’re still alive, will you still need me?”

So you slide your hands into his damp hair and look down at him, grinning, hoping your face conveys all the things you can’t yet say: “You better count on it, Jake.”

----

omg thank you bb for reading if you made it this far

almostgenerallyalways’ masterlist

#top gun: maverick #top gun: maverick fanfiction #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x you #hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #hangman x you #jake 'hangman' seresin #jake 'hangman' seresin x reader #jake 'hangman' seresin fanfiction

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pagesfromthevoid · 3 months

Text

Enchanted | g.d. | 2

Gale x fem!Tav

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: None

Author’s Note: I told you I wasn’t sorry.

Talk to Me! | Series Masterlist

There I was again tonight

Forcing laughter, faking smiles

Same old tired, lonely place…

“We’ve certainly collected a myriad of companions,” Gale observed as he sat down beside her in camp.

A little over a week ago, Tav had been kind enough to pull him from the wall he had managed to trap himself inside of after the illithid ship had crashed. She was even kinder in allowing him to travel with her, Lae’Zel, Astarion and Shadowheart to find a cure for their tadpole problem. Since then, they had collected the Blade of Frontiers and a devil from Avernus as well and were setting out to locate the druid Halsin in order to help the Emerald Grove.

She seemed ready and willing to collect any and all strays along the way, ensuring that everyone was healed, fed, and given a warm place to rest. Her compassionate nature extended not only to humans but to animals too; she would often pause to tend to wounded creatures found on their journey, whether they were injured birds or owlbear cubs –though that was how they came to have Scratch and the very same owlbear cub she had found outside the goblin camp.

Perhaps that was why Gale was so drawn to her already; she was kind and open in a way that he had never experienced before. Her empathy seemed boundless, radiating from her in moments of danger and transformation alike. Even in the face of peril, she remained steadfast, her gentle demeanor a beacon of hope and comfort to those around her. It was as if she possessed an innate ability to soothe troubled souls and mend broken spirits with just a smile and a touch.

“The more people we have, the more likely we are to be safe from whatever we face in the coming days,” she reminded him, though she did not look up from the violin she had snagged from an abandoned caravan as she tried to re-tune it. She had used it earlier to hit a goblin, and while the instrument still worked, the strings had snapped in the process and she was trying to replace them. “Besides, I can’t imagine leaving any of you to your own devices; you were trapped in a wall. Lae’Zel was in a cage, and Karlach was being hunted by Wyll. I’m afraid if I let you wander, you’ll get yourselves killed.”

The playful conversation starts,

Counter all your quick remarks

Like passing notes in secrecy…

“Oh ye of little faith,” he chastised, chuckling some as he leaned back. “I am perfectly capable of handling myself –though I cannot attest to any of our other friends.”

Tav simply shrugged in response, looking up at him finally with a soft smile. “I’m sure you are, Gale of Waterdeep. With a title like that, I’m sure you’re a fantastic adventurer and this is just another day in paradise.”

Gale simply shrugged in response, though he couldn’t help the small smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips. They fell into a comfortable silence as she plucked at the strings of her violin, humming a soft tune to make sure the melody sounded alright. His thoughts drifted to his bard –to the note he had given to the little kobold. Had it really only been a few weeks since he left his tower? With everything that had happened, it had felt like months ago that he had sought out his bard and lost his chance.

“I think I’m going to turn in for the night,” she finally announced, standing up and stretching her arms over her head. Gale picked up her violin and held it out to her, smiling some. Tav took it, their fingers brushing against one another just briefly, with her own smile. “Goodnight, Gale. Sleep well.”

“Goodnight, Tav,” he offered, watching her retreating figure as she slipped into her tent. He averted his gaze as she bent over, looking away with a soft blush when he caught himself staring a little longer than he should have.

“You’re a bit pathetic, you know that?” Astarion suddenly announced, appearing across from Gale as the fire simmered down.

“Excuse me?”

Astarion sipped the wine in his hand, waving his other dismissively. “Please, it’s been a week since she picked you out of that wall and all you do is pine after like a love sick fool.”

“I do not pine. Besides –I have no time for any sort of romantic inclinations. Not with our unwanted guest in our heads.”

Gale rolled his eyes, shaking his head. What a ridiculous notion, he mused, thinking that he had any interest in beginning a relationship in the middle of all of this chaos. Even if he did find Tav attractive and kind and a lovely conversationalist – qualities that he couldn't deny – he couldn't afford to entertain such thoughts, not when the fate of their lives hung in the balance.

Perhaps he did have a bit of a lingering crush on the de facto leader –but that meant little when he couldn't help but stray to the missive he had sent to his bard. Hope flickered within him, albeit faintly, as he imagined her response to his attempt at poetry and his thanks to her. His mind drifted to her every night, even if he didn’t see her face. He didn’t need to know what she looked like when he could hear her voice and recall her words.

Tav was lovely, but she wasn’t his bard and if Gale was to hold onto anything, it had to be her. If anything because the likelihood of ever seeing her again was minimal –less hurt for him and Tav.

“Then I don’t suppose you would be upset if I made time for her, then?” Astarion questioned, brow quirked up with the smirk that Gale had learned meant nothing good.

Gale opened his mouth to tell him, no, I would not be upset but you shouldn’t touch her still but the sentence got caught in his throat as the orb in his chest pulsed suddenly, shooting a sharp pain through his body. Astarion lurched back, surprised by Gale’s sudden cry of pain as the wizard doubled over and fell to his knees. Gods, now was not the time for this to happen –not in the middle of camp; not with everyone around.

“What in the sweet hells is wrong with you?” Astarion demanded as Tav practically tripped out of her tent to hurry back over. Shadowheart, Wyll and Karlach approached as well.

“Gale, are you okay?” Tav asked, touching his shoulder to lay him on his back.

“I just –,” he gasped, closing his eyes for a moment as he reached up and clutched his chest. Her hand covered his, trying to look over his chest for wounds. When she found none, the pain had subsided enough for him to open his eyes and clutch her hand in his. “I suppose it’s time I tell you all that I might have what is…essentially a bomb in my chest.” She pulled back some, though she kept her hand in his as he loosened the wrap of his robe, exposing the mark of the Netherese orb that climbed up his chest and to his throat. “It’s a complicated story –long, tedious, and terribly boring, truthfully –but I need –I have to consume magic in order to prevent it from getting worse.”

“How do you consume magic?” She asked, helping him sit up now. “Like, we enchant food or what?”

He chuckled weakly, shaking his head. “My research determined that I just need magical items that I can siphon the magic from, to hold it over.”

Tav eyed him carefully, her gaze filled with concern. With a gentle yet firm touch, she flattened her hand against his chest, as if trying to soothe the orb nestled within him with just her touch. Gale could feel the warmth of her palm against his skin, a stark contrast to the icy tendrils of darkness coiling within him.

He appreciated the gesture more than he could probably express. Her presence alone offered a semblance of comfort in the midst of his torment. But despite her efforts, the touch did little to appease the malevolent orb residing inside him. It continued to pulse with an ominous energy, defying all attempts at pacification.

“I think I picked up a helm,” Shadowheart suggested, half jogging back to her tent to go through her things.

“Oh, I picked up a fancy robe –I bet it’s magic,” Karlach offered, following suit.

“I have this.” Tav unclasped a necklace from around her neck –a simple amulet on a chain. The center held an emerald stone and it was encased in fine gold. “It’s definitely magic –it’s the Absolute Confidence Amulet. Nicked it off my old boss before I left Neverwinter a couple years ago.”

“Don’t you need it?” He asked, though he was already reaching for it.

“Not anymore, honestly,” she reassured with a promising smile. “I’m pretty confident in myself without it.”

Gale nodded solemnly, his fingers tightening around the item clutched close to his chest. With a deep breath, he released the magic contained within the amulet, allowing the orb to consume it greedily. As the magical energies dissipated, the necklace crumbled into pieces, scattering at their feet like shards of shattered dreams.

Tav watched the disintegration of the necklace with a bit of resignation. Despite the necessity of the action, there was a sense of loss in witnessing the demise of the once-cherished item. Yet, her smile held a glimmer of hope as she pulled away from him and stood.

“Let us know if you need more. You shouldn’t keep this from us,” she lightly scolded, helping him up from the ground. “We’re in this together –I don’t know what I’d do if something were to happen to you.”

Gale nodded, his gaze softening as he looked down at Tav. For the first time in weeks, the pulsing of the orb within him dulled down.

As she moved to pull away, a gentle breeze rustling through her hair, Gale's heart skipped a beat. In a moment of impulse, he reached out and caught her hand, holding it tenderly against his chest. She looked up at him in surprise, but didn’t move to pull away –instead her gaze softened as she smiled up at him.

With a silent understanding passing between them, Gale nodded in response to her request, his eyes locking with hers in a silent exchange of trust and affection. In the fleeting moment, he couldn’t help himself as he covered her hand with his once more.

“Thank you, Tav. Truly.”

“Of course, Gale.

I'll spend forever wondering if you knew

I was enchanted to meet you…

*****

“Gale seems to be quite taken with you,” Shadowheart commented a few days later, when she and Tav were collecting firewood for the camp.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Tav countered, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks.

“I can’t tell if you’re blind or just ignoring how he looks at you.”

“I am not ignoring him,” she conceded, sitting on a fallen tree and dropping the wood in her hands. “I just –it’s complicated.”

“What, do you have someone waiting for you in Baldur’s Gate?” Shadowheart sat beside her, kicking her feet out in front of her.

“I mean, maybe.”

“Maybe? What do you mean maybe?”

Tav huffed, flushing a bit as she fished through her pockets and pulled out a folded up piece of parchment. She handed it to the cleric then dropped her hands into her lap as Shadowheart read it over.

“This is incredibly cheesy,” she laughed, handing it back to her.

“It is not,” Tav argued, shaking her head and snatching the note back. “I don’t know who wrote it, but I have spent years singing to practically no one and this stranger wrote me a poem to tell me my singing saved their life –I suppose I’m just holding out hope that I find them one day.”

“And in the meantime, you’re going to ignore someone who very clearly is in love with you –for someone who you may never meet?” Shadowheart gave her a knowing look, crossing her ankles as she did. “Tav –we don’t have a lot of time with these tadpoles in our heads. While I am not saying you should just bed the wizard for the hells of it…I am saying that you should consider yourself fortunate to have someone that wants to share whatever time we have left with you.”

“I thought you were supposed to be the pragmatic, religious one that tells me to control myself?”

“Usually I would,” but she shrugged and looked over towards where camp was situated. “But it’s hard to be when it feels like we’re on borrowed time.”

“It also helps to use the sexual tension to your advantage,” Lae’Zel suddenly announced, stepping out of the woods. “You two were taking too long. The wizard was growing concerned. You would do well to act on whatever affections he may hold for you while they last.”

“You’re both incredibly unhelpful and strangely horny,” Tav commented, standing up and gathering the wood in her arms again. “I don’t want to use him for anything —Gale is a good person; he deserves someone who can return his feelings entirely. Not someone who is distracted by a mysterious poet.”

“Tck. Githyanki have no use for poets; we say what we mean without masking it behind pretty words.”

“Thank you for the meaningful contribution to the conversation, Lae’Zel. I’m sure Tav is so happy for your advice.”

“As she should be.”

Tav rolled her eyes at them both, walking away as they began their usual bickering. How could they possibly give her advice when it was clear they had unresolved feelings between the two of them? Ridiculous, the both of them. Besides, she had no desire to give into her feelings for Gale (and she certainly had feelings, she couldn’t deny that). They had tadpoles in their brains and were on a mission to practically save the world. It was easier to pine for a mystery poet who may or may not be there at the end than risk falling in love with someone who not only had a bomb in their chest, but could sprout tentacles at any moment.

No, she was better off without falling for Gale of Waterdeep.

*****

By the end of their day, Gale and the rest of the merry band of weirdos were exhausted. They had managed to free the Druid Halsin from the goblins (while slaughtering the whole lot of them), only for him to ask them to help with breaking a curse on the Shadowlands. And Tav —Mystra bless her —had agreed almost immediately, without hesitation.

Bloodied, battered, and covered in dirt and grime, Gale practically collapsed onto the nearest bedroll close to the campfire. He was first on watch tonight, and while he desperately wanted to sleep, he knew there wouldn’t be a chance in the nine hells anyone would swap with him. Tav laughed at him, nudging him with her foot as she passed by.

“Go get some sleep, Gale. I’ll keep watch,” she offered, lowering to sit at the edge of the roll.

“Absolutely not,” he argued, sitting up to glower down at her. “It’s my turn, and you took up post the other night when the orb acted up.”

“And I’m taking up post tonight as well. Go to bed.” Her voice was firm and she was pushing him away now to get him to move. “If I get tired, I’ll wake you. Deal?”

He hesitated a moment before nodding once, standing up finally. “Deal. And do not hesitate. If I so much as hear you yawn, I’ll be out here.”

“Here’s hoping you’re a heavy sleeper then.”

Gale pushed her head gently, rolling his eyes at her. She giggled, ducking out of his reach as he retreated to the privacy of his tent. He wasn’t kidding; if she yawned before he fell asleep, he would make her swap out. It was only fair, and he couldn’t bear the idea of letting her stay up without even a short rest.

However as soon as his head hit the pillow of his own bedroll, Gale had to fight sleep. It was tempting, and usually he wouldn’t be opposed to going straight to sleep —especially when it beckoned so clearly —but he really did want to make sure she didn’t need him. Whether he wanted to admit his feelings for her or not, Gale couldn’t help but worry for her. It was almost instinctual.

After what felt like hours —though he was certain it was hardly even ten minutes —he began to drift off. Dreams danced in the edge of his mind, words to a song he vaguely recognized from his bard. Then words he knew; his words, softly carrying through the night air.

The lingering question kept me up

2 AM, who do you love?

I wondered till I'm wide awake

Now I'm pacing back and forth,

wishing you were at my door

I'd open up and you would say

It was enchanting to meet you…

At first, he assumed it was a dream —it wouldn’t be the first time he had dreamt of her sweet voice, echoing his words back to him. Relaxing into the feeling of his bard’s voice, he let it wash over him. Let it pull him into the dream world that he desperately wanted to enter for a little while. It was clearer than ever; her voice was sometimes muffled by the dreamscape but not tonight.

Please don’t be in love with someone else,

Please don’t have somebody waiting on you…

The addition to his lines confused him, prompting his eyes to open and look around his tent for a moment. Blinking away the new lines —ones he certainly didn’t recognize and had never dreamed of before —he tried to refocus on his bard and her voice once more, listening to her echo his name even if she didn’t know it yet. But the music didn’t return in his head; it was still clear, as if right outside his tent.

Sitting up, Gale rubbed his eyes in frustration. His exhaustion must be getting to him finally. Truly, he must be hallucinating —

This is me praying that

This was the very first page,

Not where the storyline ends…

“You are absolutely hopeless, Tav, singing that silly little poem,” Shadowheart scolded from outside his tent, though he could hear her retreating to her own. “Goodnight, I hope you dream of your poet.”

Her poet?

Her poet.

Gale was her poet.

Tav was his bard.

“Sweet Hells.”

#gale dekarios x tav #gale of waterdeep x reader #gale dekarios x reader #gale of waterdeep x tav #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios

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zapreportsblog · 9 months

Note

Can you do rusty nail x male reader

❝road side rescue❞

✭ pairing : rusty nail x male reader

✭ fandom : slashers, joyride

✭ summary : here’s a little look into the life of rusty and his partner met

✭ authors note : no lie all these requests pouring in are becoming overwhelming :( don’t get me wrong I’m happy I’m getting them but it’s like they coming in back to back and it scares me that I won’t have enough time for myself and my own writing ideas

✭ slashers masterlist

The rhythmic hum of the tires on the asphalt was the only sound that accompanied (m/n) on his journey down south to visit his beloved Nana and Pa. He'd been driving for hours, the open road stretching out before him like an endless ribbon of possibilities. The radio played a soft country tune, setting the mood for the picturesque drive through the countryside.

Just when (m/n) was lost in thought, the tranquility of the moment was shattered by a loud, unmistakable "pop." His car shuddered as he instinctively gripped the steering wheel. (M/n)’s heart sank as he realized what had just happened - a flat tire. He cursed under his breath, pulling over to the side of the road.

"Damn it," he muttered, frustration welling up. He gave the steering wheel a few frustrated thumps with his palm, as if it would magically fix the situation. But the sky above had different plans. Dark clouds rolled in, and within moments, the heavens opened up, drenching (m/n) and his car.

With a sigh, (m/n) reached for the car's radio. He figured he might as well try to call for help. He fiddled with the dial until he found a frequency that wasn't just static.

"Hello? Can anyone hear me?" (M/n) spoke into the microphone, his voice crackling through the speakers.

Silence hung in the air for a moment, and (m/n) was beginning to lose hope when a voice finally responded from the other end, "Hey there, buddy, what seems to be the problem?"

(M/n) was relieved to hear a friendly voice. "I'm stuck on the side of the road," he explained, "my car's tires popped, and I don't have a spare. I'm on my way to visit my Nana and Pa, and I can't leave them waiting."

The voice on the other end sounded thoughtful. "Well, that's no good. What kind of car are you driving?"

(M/n) leaned over and peered at the emblem on the steering wheel. "It's a classic [brand]."

There was a pause, and then the voice responded, "You won't believe it, but I've got the same car. I can swing by my place, grab you a spare tire, and help you out."

Gratitude washed over (m/n). "That would be a lifesaver! Thank you so much. By the way, what's your name?"

The voice on the other end chuckled. "You can call me Rusty Nail."

(M/n) couldn't help but smile at the unique nickname. "Alright, Rusty Nail, I really appreciate your help. I'll wait here for you."

As the rain poured down and the minutes passed, (m/n) couldn't help but wonder about the mysterious stranger who had come to his rescue.

(M/n) sat in his car, the rain drumming relentlessly on the roof. The minutes dragged on as he waited for the mysterious Rusty Nail, who had promised to rescue him from his flat tire predicament. The radio continued to play softly in the background, its soothing tunes doing little to ease (m/n)’s impatience.

Suddenly, the sound of a roaring engine filled the air, and (m/n) looked up to see a massive truck pulling up beside him. Out from the driver's seat, a man jumped with an agility that defied his trucker image. The rain poured down on him, but he didn't seem to mind as he approached (m/n)’s window.

(M/n)’s heart raced as the man knocked on the window. Despite the rain clouding his vision, he could make out the stranger's imposing build. The sight of the man made him blush, though he wasn't sure why.

"You the fellow from the radio?" the man asked, his voice gruff yet friendly.

(M/n) swallowed hard, feeling a bit flustered. "Y-yes, that's me," he replied, his voice trembling slightly.

The stranger extended a hand through the open window, and (m/n) took it, feeling the warmth of the man's palm. The rain continued to pour, and (m/n) held up a big flashlight to illuminate the area as the stranger got to work fixing the tire.

With practiced efficiency, the man changed the flat tire with a spare, his muscles flexing under his soaked shirt. (M/n) couldn't help but steal glances, admiring the man's backside. He quickly averted his gaze when he realized he'd been caught staring.

After finishing the task, the man leaned against the car's hood, a smug smirk on his face. "Aren't you going to thank your savior?" he teased, his tone playful.

(M/n)’s cheeks turned a deeper shade of red as he stammered out a grateful, "Th-thank you."

The man chuckled, a deep and hearty sound. "Don't mention it, kid. Just doing my good deed for the day."

Realizing he hadn't introduced himself, (m/n) felt a pang of embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I never go to tell you my name."

The man waved it off with a dismissive gesture. "Don't sweat it. I already know your name."

Mark blinked in surprise. "How?"

The man simply grinned, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Let's just say I have my ways. You take care now." With that, he turned and walked back to his truck, his broad shoulders disappearing into the rain-soaked night.

As the truck rumbled to life and drove away, (m/n) was left sitting in his car, still slightly bewildered by the encounter. Who was this enigmatic man named Rusty Nail, and how did he know his name?

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disasterofastory · 2 years

Text

The maid of Mr. Barnes - Part 3 (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

The maid of Mr. Barnes Part 3 - Mr. Barnes // The maid of Mr. Barnes Masterlist Bucky Barnes x Reader Mafia AU Warnings: none

Summary: You meet Mr. Barnes.

When morning comes, Bucky is already in his office, leaning back on his black leather chair with Sam and Steve in front of him at the other side of the thick mahogany desk. The room basks in the warm rays of the sun through the window. The sound of the sprinklers can be heard from somewhere in the garden. "So you meet her already?" Sam asks with a wide grin on his face. He already knows the answer. "I did," Bucky nods. "And what do you think?" "Fuck off," the brunette grumbles, making his friends laugh. "Then you like her, I guess." "You didn't tell me she is fucking beautiful." "She is your employee, Bucky," Sam teases him mercilessly. "You shouldn't care about her looks."

But of course, he does. You were a sleepy, hungry mess when he found you in his kitchen in the middle of the night. Your mismatched, worn pajamas were too big to show your figure, but Bucky didn't even need that. The dim lights highlighted your cheekbones, the line of your nose, and the soft curve of your lips. And the moment you asked him if he wanted a sandwich at midnight, he knew he was a goner. And Sam fucking Wilson knew this would happen. What more! Bucky is sure that both of his friends knew it.

Bastards!

Before Bucky could answer, a soft knock disturbs their conversation.

"Come on in," Bucky answers, clearing his throat and straightening his posture as you open the door. Sam and Steve suppress their smirk, turning their attention back to you and your shocked gasp. You stand in the doorway, looking at the man behind the desk who smiles at you apologetically.

Yeah. He is the man you ate with last night. He is your boss. The man you ate a sandwich with is your boss. Heat creeps up on your face from embarrassment.

You should have known. He radiates power and authority. There is no way a man like him could be just a man among the others.

"Good morning," you speak up when you find your voice finally. "Sam told me to come here," you add, glancing at the man for a second. "Right," Mr. Barnes nods, motioning to his men to leave. "I wanted to get to know you better." "I bet," Sam laughs under his breath, earning a glare from Bucky, but fortunately, you are still too busy with your embarrassment to hear them. "You can leave now," Bucky says, still glaring at his friends.

Soon, the door closes behind you, and you stay alone with Mr. Barnes. "Please, sit," he says, and you do as he says. "I'm sorry I didn't..." you start, but the man doesn't let you continue. "None of that," he says. "If someone, I should be apologizing. I was rude not to introduce myself." "It's fine," you reply, fidgeting in your seat. "Back to business," he hums, glancing at the computer's blank screen. "I guess Sam and Steve already told you everything you should know." "Yes." "Your Sundays and Mondays are off," he explains anyway. "I want someone who cleans the common rooms and other places if necessary. I heard you helped Peter yesterday. He comes every few weeks with a team to take care of the garden, and I have another team for deep cleaning." "I understand," you nod. Yeah, Sam already told you all of this. Your gaze follows his tattooed hands as he adjusts the collar around his neck. Black ink peeks out under the white shirt at his collarbone. The tie is loose around his neck. "I hope your work schedule doesn't cause a problem with your partner," he says, making you drag your eyes to his. "I don't have anyone," you reply, confused. "I lived with my roommate." Of course, Bucky already knows that. He just wanted to hear it from you too. Sam made sure he found everything about you before hiring you. They know your family lives a few hours away, and you had a relationship while you worked for a family. Life happened, and now you are here. In his office, under his watchful eyes. "Did you have breakfast?" He asks suddenly, already standing up from his seat. "N-No," you reply, watching him. His every movement is confident and calm. He owns this place, and he knows it. "Then come with me," he says. "I'm hungry." "I should work," you argue softly, already knowing you don't really have a say. These men do what they want. "You will after breakfast," he nods, opening the door for you. "Come on, Bunny." You don't react to the unusual nickname, being too busy with the spicy scent of his cologne as you pass him. "What do you want to eat?" "Uhm," you hum. "I'm okay with whatever you want." "I know a place. Their pancakes are amazing." "Sounds good."

Pancakes. The mob boss. One of the leaders of the Avengers. The man you were so anxious to meet wants pancakes for breakfast.

Soon, you find yourself in an expensive car with Bucky at your side. The leather on the seats is probably worth more than you could sell your soul to the devil. It almost feels wrong to sit on it. "Relax, Y/N," he laughs, sensing your fidgetiness. "I'm trying," you murmur, leaning back on the seat and letting him drive you to a coffee shop in the city.

The small place is buzzing with life, and the air is filled with the scent of coffee and baked goods. You are ready to go to the end of the line when his large hand finds the small of your back. His touch is warm and soft as he guides you to the counter. "But the..." you start, but he smirks, shaking his head. "I know the owner," he explains, still holding you. Mr. Barnes's whole presence hovers over you, locking out everything else. His chest brushes your shoulder as he orders for both of you. "Is it okay?" He asks, turning to you. Your stomach growls at the mention of fresh pancakes with fruits and chocolate topping. "Yes," you nod, letting him lead you to a table next to the windows.

The man almost looks comical in his expensive, black suit in the light-colored, flower-patterned environment. He is confident and comfortable, taking a seat in front of you.

"So," you start to break the silence. You are not sure what you could speak about with a gangster. "Do you come here often?" "Almost every week," he says. "Have you been here before?" "No," you shake your head. This part of the city is too expensive for your budget. The streets are full of boutiques and restaurants. A dress probably costs more than the rent of your old flat you shared with your friend. "I read in your CV that you didn't finish college," he says after a while, still waiting for your orders. "That's true," you nod. "I had a chance to work in a hotel in Europe, and after that, I didn't want to go back to school." "Where were you?" "Vienna," you reply. "I... cleaned." "So, you enjoy traveling?" "Yes," you smile. "I mean, I didn't have much chance to see the world yet, but yes." Bucky makes a mental note about it, listing all the countries and cities he wants to show you one day. "And you?" You ask. You are not sure, you can ask questions about him, but you don't want to seem rude either. "I like traveling too," he nods. "Have you been in Vegas before?" "No," you shake your head, confused about the sudden question. Why Vegas? "I have to go there soon," he explains. "And I would like you to come with me." The shock on your face is not deniable. "What? Why?" The man shrugs, leaning back on the chair with a smirk. "I need someone to help me, and you are perfect for it." He can already see you in a pretty dress with jewels highlighting your soft features. He can't help but think about a room with a mirror above the bed. Yeah, you would look good in just jewels.

The man wants to spoil you, and he will be damned if he won't do it. He just needs his Bunny to trust him enough.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #marvel imagine #avengers imagine #mafia au

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countrymusiclover · 1 year

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Ch 2 - Angel Eyes

Part 3

Cowgirl’s Don’t Cry

@hcwthewestwaswcn co author

Tag list - just ask to be added @lothiriel9 @babygirl-4986 @alicenwrites @hcllfireandhclywater @5sos1404 @darhk-angel @drunkdyslexic @faithm120601 @sqrlgrl22 @opheliax98

Y/n's Pov - 6 years ago

Exiting the barn I brushed my hands over the light brown fur of my horse. My hair was in pigtail braids falling over my shoulders as I heard the main house front door open and saw my mother walking up with a bottle of wine in her hand. "You clearly got an attachment to those things from your daddy. You remember what I taught you right?"

"Don't let any man think they instantly get to be with me. Because they are all led by the tail between their legs." I responded to her knowing that she said she would never get back on a horse after the day her mother was killed. She basically hated them unlike my father who hated whenever he had to put one down.

She rests a hand on my shoulder showing me a small smile then motioned her head towards the young ranch hand that I had met in the barn a few years ago. "Seems like he needs a lesson on how to saddle a horse. Go help him dear."

Ryan ran a hand through his hair holding his hat in his other hand somehow getting some of the straps twisted together. "Need some help there, cowboy?" I chuckled standing beside him, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Shit yes. I don't know I geezed this up!" He cursed under his breath, clearly frustrated, making me shake my head. He sure had the mouth of a cowboy that's for sure.

Patting his shoulder I quickly noticed his problem shifting the saddle around then gesturing with my right arm for him to move. "Climb on now. You'll notice a difference. Oh and here's a tip for riding a horse." Ryan stared down at me as I explained standing up tall then I lowered myself down on my knees a little like I was sitting on the saddle. "When the horse bounces up, let it stand you in the stirrups and when it comes down sit back in the saddle."

"Seems easy enough." He replied as I climbed up onto my own horse.

"Yeah well see about that, Ryan. I bet you'll be cussing till the cows come home."

Ryan glanced back to the barn eyeing my mother who was smirking in our direction drinking her bottle. "Who is that woman watching us?"

"My mother. Now let's ride." I moved my horse behind his hitting the horse on the butt causing Ryan to grab the reins with it taking off quickly.

"Am I gonna get in trouble for talking with you - oh shit!" He started to ask before I chased after his horse, smirking at his language seeing I was right.

I teased him, feeling the wind blowing through my hair while I kept my pace up with his horse hearing him curse every so often but a smile was forming on his face. "If my daddy heard me talk with that mouth of yours he'd ring me up by the rafters in the barn. Just trust me it will get easier."

Y/n's Pov

Y/N looked at him, having returned to the ranch as she dismounted the horse and took them both to the barn "You didn't do too bad cowboy, but I think you will get the hang of it eventually if you're asking me. You've shown improvement in some things, so you've got it going" She says softly, knowing that he was still trying to get used to being on a horse and riding

Y/N was the same way when she first learned how to ride, but she slowly got the hang of it when Beth and Rip left her alone and she eventually figured out what she had to do and how to do it whenever she was alone and able to focus on riding her horse, Marleigh who was a five year old Mare.

Y/N had always had a passion for the animals, but she also knew that her mama didn’t like the damn things because of what happened with her grandmother but she looked at the cowboy as she dismounted the horse and took the saddle off before she heard Ryan coming up behind her as she was leaning against the stable wall as her hand rested on his cheek when she leaned in and kissed his lips passionately and deeply as she made out with him.

Unaware that her uncle was coming into the barn, but she was too caught up in the moment with her cowboy as she pulled away and breathed shallowly as she looked at him and smiled “I would like to do that more often, if you want to Cowboy” She spoke softly to him.

Kayce’s POV

Heading up towards the barn I could hear a weird sound right before I stopped in the doorway seeing my niece and one of my father’s ranch hands kissing. Normally I didn’t care what she did but I haven’t been around much so something came over me. “What the hell do you think you are kissing my niece, Ryan!” The lair broke away and for some reason he seemed confused.

“I didn’t start the kiss. She did - shit!” He cursed fumbling with his cowboy hat on his head.

Stomping forward I grabbed him by his shirt, shoving him away from her. “You don’t need to be anywhere near her. Go get back to work now.”

“What the heck, Uncle Kayce!” Y/n spun on her feet raising her voice towards me. “I’m not ten years old anymore but I guess you don’t know that since you left with the girl you got pregnant!”

Raising my brows at her statement I could sense my sister's personality breaking through. She could surely rip it to someone if they made her angry enough. “Well would rather your father kick him off the ranch. Because trust me darling, being here is a lot easier.”

“Yeah right!” She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest avoiding my gaze.

Ryan shifted his feet through the dirt walkway of the barn nervously leaving us alone. “Uh….I’m gonna go.”

Rip’s POV

Rip saw Kayce dragging his daughter to the house by her ear, he rolled his eyes and stepped down off the porch as he looked at his brother in law. “I suggest you let her go, you ain’t got no right to be disciplining my child when you can’t even keep your son under control. Now let her go, or I will fight you Kayce.”

He says, being protective of his little girl who he loved more than anything and he wouldn’t stand for her uncle to be doing what he was to her as he walked to him and shoved Kayce hard. “Y/N go on inside, you are gonna wait there until i tell you to come outside. Do you hear me.”

He was never harsh on his little girl, and he wasn’t going to start doing so now as he ran a hand through his hair as he talked with Kayce and sorted everything out. “You let that girl be, and worry about your own. I will handle her, you aren’t her parent. I am.” He says sternly, being protective and defensive of the girl he had been raising for 17 years now.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

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keep-the-wolves-close · 2 months

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Steady Heart

Chapter 37: O Death

* Pairing: Slow-burn Kayce Dutton x OFC Stella Daniels

* Rating: M

* Warnings: language, dread, violence, kidnapping

* Word count: 1,881ish

I would love to give credits to @dameronscopilot and @deanscroissant for being sounding boards for me during this whole process, giving outsider insight, being cheerleaders, and allowing me to screech at them about things that have happened during the writing process. I seriously couldn't have gotten this far without y'all.

Author's note: I hope everyone is enjoying so far! I hope you love this chapter as well! Please don’t come for me with pitchforks and torches! 😅

Feel free to scream at me in my ask box. I have a feeling we’re all going to need to.

Stella had gone out to the barn to grab Abigail to go for a night ride. The bay roan was antsy. The mare could tell Stella was anxious. Stella hadn’t really had much of a chance to take her out properly as of late, so that didn’t help.

Kayce said he loved her. That still floored her. She wasn’t sure if she was overreacting or not. Her mind tried to downplay what had happened. The last time she got ahead of herself, she ended up getting humbled really quick. She definitely didn’t want to do that this time.

Stella had a hard time comprehending why Kayce would be interested in her at all. If that’s what was truly happening here. She would have to suck it up sooner or later and find out. Then again, Kayce had bigger things going on. He was getting everything settled and finalized with his soon to be ex-wife. He had a living situation, and the time with his son to figure out. There’s no way he would have even been thinking about her during all of that.

Stella quietly led Abigail to the outside. On their way out of the barn, she spotted a solitary crow sitting on a fence nearby. Her face scrunched. A single crow? At night time? ‘What was that rhyme about crows? One for sorrow? Two for mirth? Somethin’ somethin’ blah blah.’ She felt her chest tighten at the thought of what that could mean. She’d seen one too many single crows lately. ‘You gotta stop freakin’ yourself out, girl.’ Stella heard noise ahead of her and saw Tate over at the round pen. He was alone, with what looked to be an armful of hay. She led Abigail over to the youngin’ and his horse.

“Tate, what’re you doin’ out here all by yourself?” She thought it was strange that he was allowed to come out by himself at night. Yes, the ranch was safe for all intents and purposes, but there was no way to effectively say it was safe at all times. It was late and most of the guys in the bunkhouse were out taking care of Jimmy’s problem. Stella ran a count in her head of who was still home. Jamie, Colby, Ethan, and Jake were the only ones in there. They were probably already looking at the backs of their eyelids.

The little boy latched the gate behind him, and faced her. “Grandpa said I had to feed my horse before I got dessert because it’s not fair that I’m treating myself and he’s down here hungry.”

Stella smiled. “Well he’s right, buddy. We can’t just forget about our pets,” she gently patted Abigail’s shoulder. “Do you want a ride back to the house? I’ll let you ride while I walk her.”

Tate’s eyes lit up. “Yeah!”

“Alright, bud. Come stand over here.” Stella knelt down and cupped her hands so Tate could step into them in order to give him a hike into the saddle. When he was seated safely, she handed him one of Abigail’s reins and held the other to walk her along. “So back to what your grandpa was saying.”

Tate sighed. He hadn’t been expecting a lecture from Stella.

“They depend on us. If we don’t come to help them out, they can’t just go get the hay or the feed for themselves.” Stella looked up at the boy. “They don’t have thumbs.” She wiggled her thumbs at him, successfully making him giggle.

“Yeah, you’re right, Aunt Stell. I gotta start thinking about him too.”

Stella nodded, “now you’re thinkin’ like a cowboy.” The fast crunch and skid of tires on the gravel of the hill could be heard not far behind them.

“Who’s that?” Tate questioned.

Stella’s face pulled into a frown and stopped Abigail’s motion and quickly walked around front of her. She wasn’t familiar with the van. Her stomach dropped thinking back to a few weeks ago with those men that were following her. How she said to Kayce a few nights back, “how can you be sure? There’s so many places people can sneak onto the property and we all would be none the wiser.” A couple men spilled out of the van and started to close the gap between them rapidly.

“Tate, get down now!” She clambered to catch the boy so he didn’t hit the ground too hard. She grabbed his shoulders to hold his attention. Quickly, she explained to him, “no matter what happens next, no matter what you hear, I need you to run. And if you can’t make it to the house, I need you to hide in the best hide and seek spot you can think of that’s out of sight and don’t come out until you hear someone you know! Do you understand me?”

He shook his head quickly.

“Take Abigail, use her as cover to run until you aren’t seen anymore. She’ll find someone when she runs off. Go!”

“But Aunt Stel —,” Tate started to object, but Stella cut him off.

“— I said go!! Run!” Stella yelled at him. She hated to scare him, but something was awfully wrong about the situation.

She knew Abigail would make her way back to the barn or in front of the bunkhouse. Stella needed her to be a distraction to keep Tate safe. She stalked off to the round pen. Cursing herself that she only had her hunting knife on her.

“Can I help y’all?” Stella called out to them, shocked at herself for sounding almost like Rip.

“Yeah we’re looking to get a message to John Dutton.” The lead man expressed.

“You are, huh?” She slid the knife out of its belt holster, that belonged to her and Ryan’s dad, in a fluid motion. To the men she approached it looked like she fixed her jacket. “Y’all tell me and you can leave. I’ll relay the message.” She tried to keep her eyes on the men and make sure she could see where Abigail was headed in her peripheral vision. If she couldn’t see Abigail anymore that meant Tate was one step closer to safety.

“Nah we can’t do that. We were sent with a specific purpose. You weren’t it.” The lead man confessed. Stella’s heart sank at the implication about Kayce’s son. “Now where’s the boy, Stella?”

Her hands started to go clammy. Her breathing was shallow. “How do you know my name?”

“We know a lot of things about you. About everyone here.”

The second man started to search around. Stella couldn’t see Abigail any longer. She closed her eyes for a split second and breathed hard. She prayed with every last bit of her soul that Tate was on his way to his grandpa.

“That’s nice, but you need to leave. You’re not getting anything.”

“We came for the boy, and we will not let anyone, let alone some girl, stop us.” The lead man yelled to his partner, “Cut out farther until you find him. I’ll take care of her.”

Stella turned abruptly, starting to make a mad dash for the bunkhouse. Her burning legs wanted to give out, but she pushed them to go faster. She could hear the lead man behind her as he gained length on her. He was almost on top of her and she panicked. She grabbed a piece of rebar sticking out of the sand by the round pen and swung it at the face of the lead man, hard. Stella swung as if she was trying for a home run.

The man’s jaw snapped shut and reopened as he let out a deafening scream. He grabbed the bar tight and yanked her toward him. “You filthy bitch!” The man’s words came out garbled. He gripped up Stella’s hair and pulled as hard as he could.

Stella stabbed at the man with her knife, but in her panic she didn’t have a good hold. She punctured his leg and he howled in pain. It didn’t have the desired effect Stella had wanted. She jabbed wildly and got him in his side twice before the lead man was able to slip it out of her hands.

Tate must have seen her struggle because he screamed her name loud and clear from not far off, “Aunt Stella!!”

“Fuck!” She wrestled with the man to get her balance back and his hand out of her hair. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Tate as he ran over to her. “Tate, I said run to the house!” Stella screamed at him.

Tate continued to dart toward her, he wanted to get the men away from Stella. He was snatched up by the second man she’d lost sight of.

“Stella!!” His tiny voice hollered. Tate struggled against the second man’s grasp.

Stella broke loose from the lead man and started to scramble for the second, but was grabbed from behind. “Fuck you piece of shit! Let us go!”

A fist hammered down onto her head from the man that had her, knocking her glasses off her face. She groaned as her vision blurred. She tried to get her foot behind or under the man’s leg, to sweep his foot out but he stayed on top of it. His arms were wrapped around the top of hers as she struggled to gain some high ground. She didn’t want to do this, but she didn’t have any other option but to ram her head backwards into his nose as hard as she could. She hoped she would break it.

Stella and the lead man both cried out, and he loosened his grip. Her head started to thump wildly. Quickly slipping her right arm out of the weak hold he had on it, Stella wrapped it around the lead man’s neck and tried to flip him like she would a calf. They both hit the ground and groaned. Stella was winded and half woozy, but scrambled her way to standing.

She ran forward trying to make it closer to the bunkhouse. A silent prayer was said. Stella let out a scream she hoped would be heard by the entire ranch. “Colby! Anyone help!!” She would have gotten away if the other man hadn’t been enraged and made his way back for her after getting Tate in the van.

“Fuck!” She squeaked out. He gripped her up by the neck making her lose air and landed a solid fist to her face that dazed her. Her posture drooped and the man behind her let her fall to the ground.

She tried to claw her way back to standing to run toward the van. Both men kicked her sides, her head, her arms; anything they could get at to make sure she stayed down. The bunkhouse was too far away to have heard their screams clearly. She couldn’t breathe from the wind being knocked out of her and her vision was starting to go. No one was coming this time. With one final attempt to crawl back to her feet to get to the van, the lead man landed a knockout blow to her chin with his foot and Stella stopped moving all together. That solitary crow cawed and fluttering wings was the last thing Stella heard.

#yellowstone #kayce dutton #yellowstonetv #luke grimes #ian bohen #ryan #kayce dutton fan fiction #yellowstone fanfic #yellowstone fanfiction #kayce dutton fanfic

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reimenaashelyee · 1 year

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The World in Deeper Inspection UPDATE Read: (Chapter 1: Pages 1 to 4)

About the comic

TWIDI IS BACK! To celebrate its 10th anniversary since launch, I'm remaking the first chapter and posting pages every Friday, accompanied by my thoughts on the original pages and a breakdown of what I've changed or improved.

Analysis under the cut.

PAGE 1 and 2

It’s March 31st, 2023… exactly 10 years since I posted the very first page of TWIDI!! I haven’t done much to celebrate TWIDI’s anniversaries the past few years (due to general Busyness – yes, yes, check out the forever “TWIDI isn’t dead” sign up on the front page), but the official 10th anniversary is a special unignorable event.

Initially I wanted to make a simple remaster of Chapter 1 – better copyediting, fixing egregious lettering and art errors, alongside a retrospective author’s note… then long-time reader Caracan suggested, why not do a full remake? That’d be fun to see. And I agree – it would be fun to see! I’ve grown my craft and sensibility as comics artist since TWIDI’s debut, and I was so curious to see how 28 Year Old Me would interpret the material that 18 Year Old me produced.

So yep!

This first page used to be so cool-looking to my 18 Year Old eyes… I can definitely see what I was trying to go for, but wasn’t quite able to reach then.

A thumbnail from 2013, with notes to myself regarding the composition. In my mind I wanted the wolves to have a James Jeanesque rendering – I was really into his Fables covers back then (still am tbh).

For the remake, I leaned further into the graphic-designiness of the composition: every element had to sweep the reader’s gaze down onto our protagonist. The wolves are expanded to actually take up half the spread and simplified down to only white lines. The trees and sky are shaped like teeth pointing down to Grimsley. The intent was to evoke a sense of claustrophobia, of the wolves catching up to Grims and driving him into a corner.

Small improvements: the energy and line of action are clearer with the new running pose. Definitely a better silhouette. And a lot more angularity with the limbs which adds to the sense of movement.

PAGE 3 and 4

This spread is one of the most drastic rehauls in the remake. Here’s the original for comparison

It’s not very good! (Sorry @ 18 Year Old Me) I remember struggling real hard with the dynamicism required out of this sequence…

Fortunately after 1000s of double-page compositions and 10 years of practice, I’ve finally cracked this once-difficult composition.

This new page does away with the concept of grids or caring about whether anything is read linearly. The sequence is supposed to evoke chaos and panic as everything is happening everywhere all at once, so it doesn’t really matter if everything can be read or arranged in a neat grid. That was the problem with the original spread: it was too beholden to the grid.

(You can see how in the original, each page was (top row: left to right; bottom row: left to right))

The new page is like this:

The page is horizontally railroaded. The main action sweeps from top left to bottom right.

The AWOOO sfx is the anchor which leads the eye from left to right. As the eye travels it may glance up or down at the panels – there’s no real need to pay attention to them; hopefully the improved clarity of Grimsley’s emotional and body acting + me actually depicting the wolf biting his neck + the spiky graphic design elements instantly conveys that he’s in trouble without much or any processing.

The newest panel – the pink grass and canine paws – is a call back for later when we catch up to this in media res.

#the world in deeper inspection #comics #webcomic #GOSH HAS IT BEEN THAT LONG #anyway yall who like reading up on process will enjoy this

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btsqualityy · 1 year

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Y.O.U (Years of Us), Chapter 1: “I’ve Missed You, Bubs”.

Jimin x half black/half Korean OC

Genre/Rating: 21+, established relationship, idol!AU, smut, angst, and fluff

Summary: Kamaria sees Jimin for the first time since he got married and he proposes an...interesting idea.

Warnings: Somewhat non-serious threats of violence.

WC: 3.3K

Author’s Note: Italics indicate a flashback! Hope you guys enjoy it!

Song Of The Chapter: Taeyeon-What Do I Call You Now

3 YEARS AGO

“So tell us, in your own words, what does Park Jimin mean to you?” The interviewer questioned and Kamaria bit her lip as she contemplated her answer for a few seconds.

“He’s.....a safe space,” Kamaria began. “I can be my authentic self with him and never have to worry about judgement.”

“When you say judgement, what do you mean?”

“If I’m speaking honestly, there are certain aspects of myself that I prefer to keep private. My identity as a mixed race woman as well as the pressure that comes with being known as Choi Sora’s youngest child....it causes people to have preconceived notions about me and that all weighs on me so I have separated my work identity and my personal identity as a result,” she elaborated. “With Jimin though, I don’t have to have separate sides to me. I can be as loud or as silly or as pensive as I want to be, and he takes me as I am. Wholly. Completely.”

“How does he treat you?”

“Like a Queen but he treats everyone in his life well,” Kamaria giggled. “I truly think that if it were possible, he’d take the stars out of the sky and hand them to me if I asked.”

“How would you describe your friendship?” The interviewer questioned and Kamaria smirked lightly because she knew he’d have a field day if only he knew just how deeply their friendship currently ran.

“I think it’s one of mutual care and support, and love,” Kamaria stated. “Our music also plays a large part in it and I think that’s why he and I have been able to be friends for so long now.”

“Alright, any last words you want to say to Jimin for his upcoming album release?”

“Jimin-ssi, you’ve worked hard on this album and I’m extremely proud of you,” Kamaria started. “Thank you for allowing me to work with you and I, personally, think it’s some of your best work yet. I love you. Fighting!”

....................................................

Kamaria slowly walked down the steps leading from the stage, being careful of her dress and high heels as she did so. Seventeen’s DK was right by her side, holding her hand as a means of support to make sure that she didn’t fall. After performing a duet together at the SBS Gayo Daejeon and receiving a standing ovation, the two of them made their way backstage.

“You did amazing, sunbaenim,” DK praised and Kamaria smiled brightly, tightening her grip on his hand thankfully.

“I appreciate that but one half of a duet is only as good as it’s counterpart,” she replied. “Your vocals are effortless. I’d love to work with you more, whether it’s with your members or even any future solo work.”

“Really?” He gasped.

“Really.”

“Ah, thank you so much,” DK chirped happily, bowing deeply in gratitude.

“It’s no problem, honestly,” Kamaria chuckled. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get going.”

“Of course,” he nodded before releasing her hand and watching as she walked away. As Kamaria made her way down the long hallway to her dressing room, her manager Nari showed up next to her.

“Ok, first things first: you were amazing, as always,” Nari began as she reached down and picked up the bottom of Kamaria’s dress to hold it for her.

“Thanks Nari,” Kamaria responded, bowing lightly to the crew as they passed by them. “I’m assuming there’s a second thing.”

“Yes,” Nari sighed. “Jimin’s here.”

“I know that.” Kamaria had only been forced to see his fucking face as she sat in the audience earlier in the evening, attempting to enjoy the show.

“And he wants to speak to you,” Nari finished and Kamaria glanced over at her, lightly shaking her head.

“Fuck no.”

“He was really insistent though,” she tried to say and Kamaria scoffed loudly.

“He always is, egotistical fuck,” she snapped. “I don’t want to see his face, let alone talk to him because I swear, if I see him-”

“What’s gonna happen, bubs?” Jimin wondered with a smirk and Kamaria’s eyes widened when she saw him standing next to the door of her dressing room. “God, you look gorgeous.”

“Nari, give me five minutes?” Kamaria requested as she turned to look at her manager and Nari raised an eyebrow.

“You sure?”

“Yeah but if you hear me scream, you know who did it,” she replied.

“Oh baby, if I do anything to you, it’s cause you wanted it,” Jimin said and Kamaria rolled her eyes as she stepped past him, opening the door to the dressing room before stepping inside. Jimin followed behind her, shutting the door afterwards and smiling widely at his ex-girlfriend.

“What do you want?” Kamaria questioned as she turned around to face him.

“I just wanted to talk to you,” Jimin shrugged. “I’ve missed you, bubs.”

“Firstly, don’t call me that,” she snapped. “You don’t deserve to. Secondly, if you wanted to talk, the time would’ve been three months ago before you decided to get married out of the blue.”

“Don’t throw that into my face. What else did you think I was supposed to do?” He demanded to know. “Wait for you the rest of my life?”

“No but I didn’t expect you to go off and marry the first woman who paid you attention!”

“Why not? You left me, not the other way around.”

“And you know exactly why I did,” Kamaria shot back with a raised brow and Jimin exhaled harshly. Reaching over to the vanity mirror that sat against the wall, she grabbed her purse from the top of it and began to walk towards the door. When she closer to Jimin though, he lightly grabbed her arm which made her stop.

“Bubs, please,” Jimin whispered and for a split second, Kamaria could see the Old Jimin again. The Jimin that she had met eight years ago, the Jimin that was the light of her life, the Jimin that she had fallen in love with.

Chancing a look downwards, Kamaria caught a glimpse of something gleaming in the light and when she looked closer, she realized that it was Jimin’s golden wedding band sitting on his fourth finger.

“Let me go,” Kamaria whispered and Jimin followed her line of sight, sighing heavily when he realized what she was looking at.

“Bubs.”

“If I have to ask you again, I’m going to swing,” she stated firmly, looking back up at him with a scowl. “And you know I will.” Knowing her well enough to know that she wasn’t bluffing, he released his grip on her arm and watching as she threw open the door to the dressing room, storming out and letting the door slam shut behind her.

....................................................

Later on that night, Kamaria was sitting in her large bathtub nursing a bottle of wine in one hand and the remote control to the large television that hung on the wall opposite to her in the other hand. She had been renting a penthouse apartment while she was having a home custom built but she had fallen in love with her temporary home so much (specifically the master bedroom and bathroom), she was contemplating buying it as a second home.

As she soaked in the water, she couldn’t help but to think back to her encounter with Jimin a few hours prior. Going from seeing someone every day to completely cutting that someone out of your life had been a hard thing to do, but Kamaria had been committed to doing it. Jimin going off and marrying that random woman had hurt Kamaria more than she was willing to admit, and seeing his face that night only drug up bad memories.

“Fuck,” Kamaria groaned when she heard her phone begin to ring from it’s spot beside the tub. Setting the remote control down, she grabbed the phone and answered it before putting it up to her ear. “Hello?”

“Bubs,” Jimin called.

“What the fuck, Jimin?” She huffed. “You’re like a bad case of chlamydia. How the hell did you get this number?”

“You know me better than that. I have my ways.”

“What do you want?”

“I just want to have dinner with you,” Jimin admitted.

“Why should I?”

“You should because we have eights years of friendship between us,” he pointed out.

“Ok, I’ll bite,” Kamaria sighed. “What do we even have to talk about?”

“I have a proposal for you,” Jimin told her and she automatically rolled her eyes.

“You can send all business stuff to Nari or Bang PD.”

“Stop fucking dismissing me like that,” he grumbled. “I’m serious. I need to discuss something with you.” After thinking for a few seconds, she took a deep breath in and released it before doing something that she knew she would probably regret.

“Ok.”

“Thank you, bubs,” Jimin replied giddily. “Now, I have one question for you.”

“What’s that?”

“What are you wearing right now?”

“You’re a disgusting, limp-dicked, sack of shit,” Kamaria chided.

“Oh, talk dirty to me, baby,” he snickered.

“How’s the wifey?” Kamaria suddenly asked and Jimin instantly stopped laughing.

“Don’t throw my wife or my marriage in my face, and I’m not going to tell you that again.”

“You mean the fake marriage?”

“What do you think makes it fake?” He wondered. “I’m genuinely curious.”

“I’d like to not vomit into my bathwater,” she laughed. “So I’m not interested in recounting what makes your sham marriage just that: a sham.”

“Sure you’re not,” he hummed. “I’m more interested in you and this bathwater though, I will admit.”

“Why, wanna drink it?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Jimin smiled. “You know how I feel about you and your body.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“Alright, alright. You free on Monday, 7pm at Ryunique?”

“Ryunique?” Kamaria repeated, her interested peaked at hearing the name of her favorite restaurant.

“Well, I figured if I chose somewhere you liked, you’d be less likely to storm out if you get pissed,” Jimin reasoned.

“I’ll be there.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing you, bubs,” Jimin said. “I love you.”

“Choke on a thousand dicks, Jimin,” Kamaria fumed before hanging up on him. After she put the phone back in it’s previous place next to the tub, Kamaria brought the wine bottle that was still in her opposite hand up to her lips, taking a long swing.

“Fucking dumb ass,” she muttered as she laid her head back, not knowing for sure if she was referring to herself or the ex-boyfriend that she still loved.

....................................................

“I cannot believe you gave him my fucking number!”

“Look, don’t chew my head off,” Nari spat from the opposite end of the phone. “I know you’re upset at him for getting married but you also still love him and want to talk to him.”

“I do not,” Kamaria muttered petulantly as she looked out of the window of the escalade that she was in. “Me icing him out for months clearly shows that.”

“Yeah, right. Tell me why you’re going to Ryunique right now then,” Nari dared.

“He said he had a proposition,” Kamaria shrugged.

“And he couldn’t just tell you over the phone?”

“Apparently not,” Kamaria responded.

“Look, you’re already on your way there so just have an open mind and don’t be such a bitch,” Nari suggested.

“Please, I’ve been a bitch since the day that I met that man,” Kamaria laughed. “He’s used to it. Plus, being a bitch is my specialty.”

“Uh huh,” Nari chuckled and just then, the car pulled to a slow stop in front of Ryunique.

“I just got here, gotta go.”

“Call me after to tell me what he said!”

“Alright, bye,” Kamaria replied before hanging up the phone. Once the driver had gotten out and walked around the side of the car to open her door, Kamaria slowly slid out, being careful of the black mini dress that she had on as she did so.

Since Ryunique was popular among idols and actors/actresses, paparazzi was almost always stationed out front so Kamaria slapped a wide smile on her face as she waved to the cameras, the flashes almost blinding her. After about 30 seconds, she then made her way inside of the restaurant.

“Ah, there’s one of our most valued customers!” The owner, Shin Ryujin, exclaimed upon seeing her. “You’re just as gorgeous as ever, Minali!”

“Thank you so much, Ryujin-ssi,” Kamaria bowed lightly in respect. “Is my favorite table available?”

“Yes, Jimin-ssi called and reserved it a few days ago,” Ryujin confirmed.

“Of course he did,” she muttered to herself as she followed behind Ryujin, pacing towards the back of the restaurant where the space between the tables was larger and the area was slightly sectioned off from the rest of the space by large walls of paneling on either side.

“Your favorite wine?” Ryujin asked and Kamaria nodded her head thankfully before he walked away. Pulling her phone out of her purse, Kamaria saw that it was already 7:10 and she rolled her eyes. Before she could complain though, she heard a flurry of activity and when she looked up, she couldn’t help the soft gasp that slipped past her lips.

Jimin had walked in, dressed in a black button down shirt paired with black slacks and his favorite Chelsea boots. The thing that had made Kamaria gasp though, was his fresh undercut that he had to have gotten done earlier that day, and the sight took her right back to when she had met Jimin for the first time eight years prior.

....................................................

8 YEARS AGO

“Thank you so much for doing this at the last minute,” the director, Seok Choi, said as he led Kamaria towards the set. “We know you have busy schedules these days, with the recent success of your first film and all.”

“Trust me, it’s no issue at all,” Kamaria assured him with a smile. “Plus, I’m a fan of Bangtan so this is an amazing opportunity for me.”

“Ah, speaking of Bangtan,” Seok Choi said as he walked onto the set. “Jimin-ssi, this is your leading lady Choi Minali. Minali-ssi, this is Park Jimin.”

“I also go by Kamaria,” she said, bowing towards Jimin who did the same. She had attempted to keep her cool because not only was she a fan of Jimin’s music, she also thought he was the most gorgeous man on the face of the planet. Dressed in a suit with no shirt underneath the jacket, his hair was pushed back off of his forehead and showcased his freshly shaven undercut.

The sight of him was so damn appealing, Kamaria had to remind herself that she was there to work.

“Nice to meet you,” Jimin smiled. “I have to say, I appreciate you taking this on. Our previous lead broke her ankle trying to do the choreography and with this being my debut solo music video, I’m a little on edge.”

“I get it,” she nodded in understanding. “I’m a big fan so I jumped at the chance to do this.”

“Have you heard the song yet?”

“I was listening to it in my dressing room as I went over the steps with the choreographer and I have to say, Jimin-ssi, it’s fantastic,” Kamaria gushed.

“Nah,” Jimin chuckled in embarrassment. “You think?”

“Yeah.”

“Eh, I doubt it,” he tried to say.

“Listen, if I don’t know anything else in life, I know music,” she stated firmly. “And trust me when I tell you, you have a huge fucking hit on your hands.”

“Well, thank you,” Jimin smiled, refreshed by her bravado. “Shall we rehearse?”

“Lead the way,” Kamaria grinned and Jimin couldn’t help but to notice how gorgeous she was, especially when she smiled.

....................................................

“Down girl,” Kamaria whispered to herself, feeling her panties beginning to stick to her skin a little from the sight of Jimin. After greeting a few people at the entrance and signing a few autographs, Jimin eventually made his way back to their private table and Kamaria took a few seconds to make sure her dress was sitting on her body right, pushing her breasts up a little to make sure they were sitting pretty. She knew that Jimin loved this particular black dress on her so she wanted to make sure that he would be eating his heart out by the time dinner was over.

“Hi bubs,” he smiled brightly, stepping over to Kamaria and bending down before he pressed a quick kiss to her cheek.

“Oh wow, look who’s late,” Kamaria deadpanned. “As always.”

“I’m Jimin-ing today,” he laughed as he pulled his chair out on the opposite side of the table and sat down.

“Jimin-ssi, hello,” Ryujin greeted him cheerily as he came back to their table, setting Kamaria’s glass of wine down in front of her.

“Hello Ryujin.”

“Are we drinking tonight?” He asked and Kamaria looked right into Jimin’s eyes as she waited for his answer.

“Not tonight Ryujin,” Jimin shook his head before looking back at Kamaria. “Just a water with lemon for me, please.”

“Alright, and your regular orders for your meals?” He checked, waiting until both Jimin and Kamaria had nodded their heads before turning and walking away. Kamaria looked back down at her phone in her hand, scrolling through her social media until she heard a tap on the table.

“Hey,” Jimin called, waiting until she had looked up at him. “It’s kind of rude to ignore the person who’s treating you out to dinner.”

“It’s also weird for you to be on a date with another woman while you’re married,” Kamaria shot back.

“Oh, so you want this to be a date?” He smirked.

“You’re such a dick,” she muttered as she looked back down at her phone but when she did, she could feel Jimin’s eyes still on her so she looked up at him again. “What?”

“You just, you look gorgeous,” he replied candidly. “It amazes me that after eight years, I literally never get tired of looking at you. You’re wearing my favorite dress, too.” So he did notice but Kamaria wasn’t surprised. The man noticed everything about her and he always had.

“Well, thank you.”

“My gorgeous bubs,” he cooed and feeling herself about to fall for it, she put the walls up as quick as she could.

“How’s Hye-ja?” Kamaria inquired, making Jimin sigh heavily. “How’s the marriage?”

“It’s...not great,” Jimin admitted.

“Well, what else is to be expected when you marry someone after four weeks of “dating”, and I use that word very loosely,” she replied.

“I wouldn’t have even entertained her if you hadn’t left me.”

“I left for a fucking reason and that was because of your inability to respect both me and my boundaries,” Kamaria huffed.

“Alright, here we go!” Ryujin cheered as he, along with an extra waiter, brought their plates to the table and set them down. “Enjoy you two and please, don’t hesitate to call if you need anything else.”

“Thank you, Ryujin-ssi,” Kamaria smiled lightly before they walked away.

“Anyways, I’m happy that you brought up my marriage because that’s what I asked you here to talk about,” Jimin began.

“What, you gonna ask me to join?” She asked as she began to cut into her steak.

“Ha ha.”

“Sorry, it was low hanging fruit,” she shrugged.

“Well, I found out that Hye-ja doesn’t want children,” he revealed and Kamaria’s eyes widened slightly, her heart aching for him. As long as they had known each other, she knew of Jimin’s strong desire to start a family and have children since he loved them so much.

“Not to throw salt in your wounds but again, this is what happens when you marry the first bitch who pays you attention.”

“She’s not a bitch bubs, she’s Kim Hye-ja,” Jimin chuckled. “One of the most famous actresses in South Korea. Be honest with yourself.”

“Please, my brand ranking is higher than hers.”

“You looked that up?” He questioned and Kamaria cut her eyes at him.

“Get to the fucking point before I leave.”

“Alright, alright,” he acquiesced. “Well, long story short, I’ve decided to have children anyway. Without Hye-ja.”

“Congratulations,” Kamaria chuckled as she picked up her wine glass. “I have to say, it’s one of your crazier ideas though. Who’s the lucky lady?”

“You,” Jimin grinned and Kamaria choked on the sip that she had taken, coughing and spluttering as she attempted to regain control.

“What? I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard you correctly. Repeat again?”

“Bubs, will you be my surrogate?”

....................................................

Tag List: @dunixxd

#bts #bangtanarmynet #bangtanbathhouse #bts jimin #jimin x reader #jimin smut #jimin angst #jimin fluff #bts x reader #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #bts series #bts reactions #bts imagines

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tiannasfanfic · 2 years

Text

You Belong with Me: Part 1

Adrian Chase/Vigilante x Reader (Smut)

Summary: Christopher Smith can have some pretty dumb ideas sometimes regarding dating and romance. For his latest ploy in getting your attention, he drags Adrian Chase into playing the ultimate wingman. (Crossposted to AO3)

Rating: Explicit 18+

Author Note: Afab reader with non-binary pronouns. An alternate take on the Fake Dating trope. Sorry if it doesn't make much sense. I spent all day yesterday in bed and the brain fog is still pretty bad today while editing. This will be a two or three parter, kind of a slow burn.

CW: Light teasing and smut; dry humping, kissing and masturbation.

Word Count: 2,363

When Peacemaker explained his plan to finally get the woman he liked to notice him, Adrian Chase was very doubtful about it.

“Dude, I’m telling you, it’s a foolproof plan!” Chris insisted.

Adrian still wasn’t so sure. He stared at his best friend with an expression of confusion mixed with doubt.

“Run this by me one more time,” he finally. “How is me asking Y/N out, which is who you like, by the way, supposed to get them to like you and go out with you instead?”

Chris rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“For the millionth time,” he started explaining, voice tight with strained patience. “You always bring anyone you date over to my place a lot to hangout because you want us to be friends too, right? So, you get Y/N to go out with you, start bringing them over a lot like you normally would, they’ll get to know me outside of work, realize how great of a guy I am and then BAM! We switcheroo and I’m the one dating Y/N instead and you’re off the hook!”

It barely made any sense to Adrian, but he caved because it was Chris asking him. Ultimately, he never told Peacemaker no, no matter how insane the thing he was asking for was.

Considering he knew this wasn’t a real date for him, Adrian had no problem finding the courage to ask you out. He did this a few days later after a mission while you were taking inventory on the remaining ammo.

“Hey, would you want to go out with me sometime?” Adrian asked, the question falling the easiest it ever had from his mouth. “Like, as in a date?”

He expected you to say no, like most women did. He figured that he’d have to turn on the charm and work for it.

Instead, you got the biggest grin on your face.

“I’d love to!” you said without any hesitation, looking excited.

It made his heart dance a little. He didn’t know why.

Later, when he told Peacemaker you said yes, Chris clapped him on the back and Adrian felt slightly sick to his stomach. He also didn’t know why on that one either.

The evening of your first date came. Adrian was a ball of nerves on his way to pick you up, but relaxed once you were in the car. You always had that effect on him, ever since say one. Your presence calmed him down. The two of you talked all the way to the Mexican restaurant he was taking you to, the conversation flowing easily like it always did.

“I gotta say, I was really surprised when you asked me out,” you said after the two of you ordered.

“How come?” he said, diving into the chips and salsa on the table.

“I figured awhile back that you wouldn’t,” you said, shrugging. “So, I’ve been working up the nerve to do it myself.”

Adrian looked at you with a confused expression.

“To ask yourself out?”

“No, to ask you out.”

The next few minutes Adrian spent in a wild coughing fit with you clapping him on the back. Your words made him choke on the chip he was eating.

It only went downhill from there.

Which is to say, it went amazingly well for Adrian.

After your confession, there was a brief period of comfortable silence before the conversation resumed. He found out the two of you shared even more interests than he previously thought. In general, you were into most of the same things he was but had different likes and dislikes about them than he did.

As the evening went on, both of you began to get more flirty, playful even, but it stayed just this side of too inappropriate.

When he took you home, you gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek outside your door.

“I’d invite you in,” you said as you parted from the hug. “But I’m not going to tempt myself.”

“Tempt yourself?” Adrian asked, confused since he’d been inside your apartment before. “What do you mean?”

You didn’t answer, you just smiled mysteriously and kissed him on the other cheek, which made him blush, then went inside.

Despite the circumstances surrounding the date, Adrian went home feeling like he was on cloud nine. He even hummed to himself as he got ready for patrol, a bit more upbeat than he usually was. Thinking about you gave him something to direct his excess energy towards once he hit the streets on patrol. Normally, he liked to keep his thoughts occupied while on patrol. It helped him focus better on what was physically going on around him. But on slow nights like tonight, it gave him something to occupy his mind.

Eventually, his thoughts came around to how you looked at him when he walked you to your door. The urge to kiss you had been undeniable. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. While Chris had told him that he may need to date you for a while before you succumbed to his charms, which meant doing all the things people who date does, Adrian was struggling with that now. He didn’t know why, but he was having second thoughts about this whole thing.

That’s what was on his mind shortly after midnight when he got a text from you.

Hey you. How’s patrol?

Sometimes you texted him late at night when you couldn’t sleep, so this wasn’t unusual. Over the last couple of months, it had actually become quite common. You explained it once, how you had periodic flares of insomnia that sometimes got bad enough you’d go days without a full night’s rest. Adrian was usually the only one up when this happened and, once you had figured that out, you’d started texting him. He never minded talking to you. In fact, it always made his heart skip a beat when your name popped up on his phone.

Boring as fuck. Absolutely nothing is going on.

Isn’t that a good thing though? Means no crime, right?

In theory, yeah, but in practice it’s sooooooo fucking dull. Like, I’m five seconds away from staring a game of Russian Roulette with myself.

Lmao! Don’t do that. What side of town you patrolling tonight?

Northeast, over by the ATV dealership.

Ah, that sucks. If you were on this side, I was going to suggest stopping by. I can’t sleep and am bored as hell too.

Adrian thought it over for a moment then shrugged.

Fuck it, sure! I’ll come by. Nothing is going on over here, so I’ll head that way.

After picking up the Sebring, Adrian headed for your side of town. He left his car a few streets over, did a quick patrol of the surrounding neighborhoods, then headed for your place. The back fence was easy for him to hop and soon he was knocking at your backdoor. Adrian switched his mask for glasses soon after arrival and you both settled on the couch.

“Hey, I got a question,” Adrian said after he’d been over there awhile. “How come you said you couldn’t invite me in earlier, but now you can?”

You chuckled.

“I was wondering when you were going to ask about that,” you said. “That’s because earlier it would’ve tempted me to break the only rule, I have for myself, but now it won’t.”

“Oh,” Adrian said, nodding. Then realized that didn’t make any sense. “What rule is that?”

“To never have sex on the first date,” you said.

Adrian stared at you.

“Why in the fuck would you have a rule like that?” he blurted out before he could stop himself.

Fortunately, you didn’t seem bothered by the question.

“It was as good of a rule as any,” you shrugged, laughing. “After I had sex for the first time, I realized it wasn’t that big of a deal to me, so I wanted to have one rule to kind of keep myself in check.”

After he thought about it for a minute, it did make sense.

“I see,” he said, nodding. “And since there is usually an expectation for sex from the other party, it’s better to remove the temptation entirely.”

“Exactly,” you said, nodding.

“And don’t worry, I definitely understand the blanket policy,” Adrian continued. “You’ve got to do it with everyone, even people you don’t want to have sex with like me.”

You stared at him.

“When did I ever say I don’t want to have sex with you?”

Adrian stared at you again.

You smiled.

He opened his mouth to say something but found that on top of not knowing what to say, he had also forgotten how to talk entirely. He ended up sitting there with his mouth hanging open.

That didn’t matter though. Soon you were straddling his lap with your lips on his, making talking unnecessarily. He only hesitated for a moment, just long enough for all thoughts to fly out of his head, before kissing you back. His hands went to rest on your hips, squeezing and kneading them as he felt your hands slide up his shoulders to the back of his neck.

While Adrian had imagined what it would be like to kiss you, the reality of it was far better. It was just that right blend of soft and rough that Adrian loved and was able to match easily. He groaned softly as he felt your teeth gently nipping along his bottom lip, one arm slipping around your waist to pull you even closer. It was an instinctive move, and also pulled your groin directly against his. You gasped into his mouth and rolled your hips forward, making him groan deeply in his throat.

Adrian became very aware of how hard he was getting in his suit. Normally, this would be uncomfortable, but the pressure and friction you were providing gave him some relief. You felt good, even through the heavy padding of his suit in that area. While keeping his arm around you, he moved his hand down from your hip to your ass, helping you guide your movements over his throbbing dick.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to him, and Adrian pulled back slightly. You opened your eyes to look down at him with a confused expression.

“Aren’t you violating your rule?” he asked, panting a little. “I don’t want to be the cause of you breaking your own rules.”

“The date technically ended as soon as you dropped me off and left,” you said immediately.

That was a good enough loophole for him. Adrian attacked your neck with his mouth.

Another thought didn’t occur to him until a few minutes later. By that point, your shirt had been flung somewhere into the room, his gloves were on the floor, and his glasses were on the end table. He hadn’t taken your bra off yet, instead he was kissing and licking the top of your breasts just above the fabric line. He still had your ass in a death grip with one hand, pushing you down as he rolled his hips up into you. He grunted softly against your skin, hearing you gasp just before you pushed yourself against him on your own. One of your hands was at the back of his neck and your fingers gripped into him, like you were trying to push him further into your chest. This ramped Adrian up even further and both of his hands went up your back, starting to fiddle with the clasp of your bra as he let his lips graze down over your nipple through the thin fabric. You gasped, hips rolling forward into his again…

And, of course, this would be the exact moment Adrian remembered how much Chris liked you. He remembered what all this was actually for, a rather elaborate and stupid plan to get you and Chris together.

Adrian also realized at this point that, if he didn’t get to keep you after of all this, he wanted no part of it anymore.

“Shit, wait, stop,” Adrian said, panting heavily as he reluctantly pushed you away.

“What’s wrong?” you said, sounding breathless, and looking concerned. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Normally the idea of you hurting him would’ve made him laugh his ass off, but right now the concern you were showing made his dick throb under you even more.

“N-no, um,” he said, not sure what to say that wouldn’t give away what was really going on. He knew by now he had a weakness for lying, so he needed to keep it simple and as truthful as possible. “I-it’s just still e-early for me to q-quit patrolling. I-I normally go until f-four or five.”

It wasn’t technically a lie. Normally he didn’t go home for several more hours. So that sounded plausible, right?

Apparently so.

“Oh!” you said, with a sheepish smile coming to your face. “That’s right. I’m sorry. I forgot you are technically still working.”

As you got off his lap, Adrian bit down on his lip, squeezing his hands into fists to keep from pulling you back onto him. He knew if he did that, there would be no stopping anymore.

“S’okay,” Adrian said, quickly standing up as soon as you were clear and adjusting his suit. “No worries. I kinda forgot myself there for a minute too.”

He heard you giggle softly and looked down at you. Your eyes were in the process of coming back to his face from his lower extremities, a playful smiling coming to your lips as your eyes met his. It was almost over right then and there. The look in your eyes made him tremble, but he quickly collected his glasses and gloves, then made a hasty retreat.

Instead of resuming his patrol like he said he was going to, Adrian went straight home. He had barely gotten in the door before he was stripping off the Vigilante suit. It didn’t take him long before he was sitting on his couch, naked and vigorously stroking his shaft as he imagined what it would feel like to have you bouncing on him.

(To be continued…)

#adrian chase #vigilante #adrian chase fanfiction #adrian chase smut #adrian chase x y/n #adrian chase x you #adrian chase x reader #vigilante fanfiction #vigilante smut #vigilante x y/n #vigilante x you #vigilante x reader

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thesillestluxeandcastiel · 8 months

Text

Don't!

Cordell Walker x Suicidal!Child!Reader

Author summary: Reader suffers from self harm and Cordell is blind enough to ignore the warning signs untill they fully try to commit.

Tw: Cursing, Heavy agnst, Heavy Fluff, Self harm mention, and Suicide mention.

S/C = Selected Clothes

W/J = Wanted Job

So, here we are folks! As much as I'd like to send all of you to therapy myself, I cannot. As someone who struggles with the same things, if you can, PLEASE get help. Either that, or call the suicide and self harm prevention hotline. (988) thank you for listening to my rant as someone who goes through the same things, and has lost quite a few people from these things.

Also, the x reader (romantic) will be out shortly. Probably the same storyline, just adjusted.

Thank you for reading my rant lovelies. Looks like I've kept you long enough, so let's get movin on, shall we?

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You groaned softly as you woke up. Smelling Grandma and Grandpas 'famous' bacon. You smiled, and got up. Quickly realizing the blade you had used yesterday was still left on your counter. 'Shit, shit what if dad saw? What if August saw? Stella?!' You thought, rushing over to lock it in one of your drawers. You sighed, hoping it was none of the above.

See, you were the middle child. August was the youngest, and Stella was the oldest. Obviously, you were different. Y/n Walker. 'What a wonderful name,' You thought sarcastically as you got up to look into the mirror. Last night you had only worn a S/C and some underwear, so you lifted up the sleeves of your S/Cto see the damage.

'Holy shit. That...that might be permanent.' You thought as you stared at self-inflicted scars with wide eyes. Then, suddenly Stella bursted into your room. "Hey, dad sent me in here to wake you- oh your already up!" She smiled at you. You quickly pulled down your sleeves, smiling back at her. "Yes Ms Blue, I am. Nowww I would like to get dressed, if you don't mind." You retorted, smiling and leaning your head towards the door. She groaned, and walked out the door with a smile.

'Now, what the fuck do I wear to hide all this shit?' You thought, staring at yourself in the mirror again.

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You had chosen a simple sweater and jeans. Also a belt. Only problem was it was a very hot day in Texas, so you were sweating bullets. Especially because you were doing chores with your dad.

Cordell quickly noticed something was wrong with your outfit. It was what, 90 degrees? Why are you wearing a sweater??

"Yknow, it might be easier if you just took the sweater off, N/n." He stated, focusing on carving the new post just right.

You bit your lip and mentally panicked because what the fuck were you supposed to say?

"Uh- well, it's my favorite sweater so... I'll just wear it for now!" You knew that wouldn't keep your father away for too long, especially sense it's... Him. But he brushed it off for now, making conversations here and there as he worked. You let out a quiet sigh of relief.

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You sat down at the dinner table. Luckily, no one was here currently so you could just relax for once. You sighed, and put your head into your hands, rubbing your temples. 'Today has been one hell of a day,' you thought, chuckling slightly. Then, you felt a figure slide into the chair in front of you. You looked up to see a very serious Liam staring back at you.

"N/n." He started, staring at your arms. Then, the anxiety rushed to your head, fearful of what he could've found.

"Do you mind explaining," he started, and then whipped out your journal and slammed it onto the table. "This? And don't play dumb with me, I read it. All of it." He explained, staring at you with worried eyes.

"U-uncle liam, i-" you started, tearing up. Quickly, you forced the tears back down. After mom, you promised yourself you wouldn't cry.

"I, uhm, have been struggling, a lot recently. As you probably read." You stated, motioning at the journal. He nodded.

"I understand that, but talk to one of us. Me, Your grandpa, hell, does your dad even know?" He asked, staring at you with concerned, but angry/disappointed eyes. Suddenly, Cordell walked in.

"Do I know what?" He asked, looking between you and Liam.

You looked at Liam with 'please, I'll tell him on my own time. Just don't do this!' Eyes, holding a breath. Liam sighed.

"Oh, uhm nothing much. Just discussing career paths with N/n over here. Yknow, it's crazy, they told me they want to work at a w/j!" He responded smiling quickly to cover the act, and you sighed a heavy sigh of relief. He probably got that from your journal. You smiled and looked at your father, nodding.

Cordell shrugged. He knew something was up, but it couldn't be Serious enough that his brother would lie to him about his own kid, right? He smiled, and went to sit next to you.

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It was, what? 3:30 am and here you are. Having a panic attack over cutting yourself. Again. 'Screw it, I'm ending this. Tonight.' You thought, sneaking out of your room quickly and quietly, trying not to make a lot of noise to wake anyone. Successfully, you had made it out the door.

See, Y/n walker didn't take special classes for nothing. You pulled a little trick, and managed to grab the keys for the mercadi on the way out. You grabbed them carefully, turning on the car and speeding off. Did you even have a license yet? 'No, but who the hell cares!' You thought speeding off. Little did you know, August had seen the whole thing.

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"Dad, DAD! wake up!" Stella shook her dad awake, he groaned and turned over to look at her.

He coughed and sat up, blankets still around him. "Yes, Yes Stella what's up? Why must you wake a tired ranger at, 4:00 in the morning?" He asked, yawning.

"Y/n is gone! August told me he saw them drive off with the mercadi! Dad, they don't even have a license!" She practically yelled at him.

"THEYRE WHAT?!" he yelled, springing out of bed quickly. He ran and put his ranger equipment on quickly, before returning back in front of Stella.

"Stella, listen." He crouched down in front of her. "They'll be okay, we'll find them I promise alright? Now, you go grab August and get him in the car." Stella nodded quickly, running out of the room to go grab August. Truth be told, he was worried. Enough of his family had died already. 'No no, no dark thoughts right now, N/n is more important. ' he thought, and nervously stepped out of the room, practically running downstairs and outside into the car.

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There you were, just peacefully sitting on the not so safe side of the railing. You took a deep breath in of fresh air, staring down at the busy street below you. 'I could just jump now, what am I waiting for?' You thought, and slowly wiggled your way off the edge. Starting to fall, untill a hand grabbed you back. You looked confused, turning around you saw August.

"August?! Wha- what are you doing here?" You asked nervously. Staring at your brothers worried face.

"Oh I don't know, I'm here because I'm not gonna let my sibling KILL THEMSELVES?! DAD! STELLA! HELP!" He yelled.

'Shit, shit, shit. This is not good, holy fuck.' You thought, letting go of his hand. "August, just let me go. I don't have to be a burden anymore." You said, staring at him with upset eyes as you teared up.

"Wha- NO! DAD- STELLA, PLEASE!" he yelled again, grabbing your hand tighter and trying to pull you up untill eventually your dad and Stella bursted through the door. Staring at you dangling off the edge. Cordell looked at you with shock, his mouth making a small O shape. Stella immediately started to tear up, covering her mouth with her hands.

"Uh, a little HELP, please?" August yelled at them, untill they snapped out of their trance. Quickly, you tried to wiggle your way out of August's grasp, but it was no use, as Cordell had a hold of your hand now, along with Stella. Quickly, you were pulled over the railing. You broke down, watching them all stare at you like some kind of lab experiment. Then, Cordell hugged you, as tight as he could.

You gasped, staring into his chest. Then, August joined the hug, along with Stella.

Shortly after they let go, and Cordell crossed his arms, staring down at you. "I think I can speak for all of us when I say, don't do this again, N/n. We love you. What would this family be like without you? You can always talk to any of us, you know that, right?" He asked, almost crying himself.

"I know, I'm sorry, I'm sorry I just didn't wanna be a burden.." You sobbed out. He sighed, and smiled at you.

"Well, let's take you somewhere where you aren't a burden then. Let's go home, okay?" He asked, smiling down at you. You smiled back, and nodded, still crying.

And eventually, maybe you would get better. Maybe, just maybe, you could actually get better.

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Originally written from wattpad, so if you recognize this from that you know who I am now!

1627 words! My best so far 😈

Bonus: Cordell watched you intently as you emptied your drawers for anything sharp as he held out his hand. You groaned and handed them to him. He frowned softly. "Yknow we all love you, right?" We're all here. Even if your grandpa seems like.. A meanie sometimes, even he'd listen about this. Okay?" He asked. You nodded, tearing up again. He smiled softly. "Alright, alright." He hugged you tightly, and for once, you hugged him back.

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