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the-authoress-writes · 4 months

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Wherever You Go Chapter One

Tom “Iceman” Kazansky x Aviator!reader (Callsign: Thorn)

Moodboard by @bradshawsbaby

Written for @roosterforme’s Top Gun Rocktober Playlist Fic Challenge

Synopsis: Tom Kazansky made a mistake.

Or rather, a series of mistakes.

He chose to take the assignment as an instructor at TOPGUN.

He fell in love with one of his students.

He broke her heart.

He chose to leave TOPGUN, and redeploy.

Now, he was stuck onboard the USS Nimitz with the woman whose heart he broke, with no way out.

Unbelievably, that’s not the problem.

Problem is, he still loves her.

Series Warnings: Teacher/Student relationship (but you already knew that) with no real age gap, warnings will be updated as the series progresses.

Warnings: Here be cursing, because these are people in the Navy.

I don’t think there’s anything else, though.

Author’s Note: “It’s only going to be a oneshot.”

Yeah, freaking right.

This took forever (become a church musician, they said, it’ll be fun, they said, you’re in charge of the choir for the Advent season and Christmas while the choir director is on medical leave), but I’m fairly happy with how this turned out.

I think.

The impostor syndrome do be impostoring.

Thank you so, so very much to @roosterforme for hosting the Top Gun Rocktober Fic Challenge, and for allowing me to use one of my favorite 80s rock ballads, “The Flame” by Cheap Trick.

Lyrics from the song will be peppered in throughout this series, because it’s too good not to, and the song is the reason this story exists, as it is what birthed the plotline.

A huge thank you and shout out to @thatsrightice, who helped me so much with the hop maneuvers, by researching the F-14 and A-4 high and low for me.

Special thanks also to @valmare, the fact that I am writing Tom Kazansky x reader! fic is all your fault; but thank you so much for dragging me down with you, it’s been an absolute joy!

Previously on “Wherever You Go”…

And as he ate Carole’s heavenly consolation in a cookie, Tom reflected on just how he’d ended up in this position.

Two months ago…

“So, you looking forward to teaching the next generation of stick jocks like us, Ice?” Mav spoke, barely intelligible around the food he had in his mouth.

“I’m sorry, I don’t speak whatever language that was, because it definitely wasn’t English.” Tom deadpanned, looking up from his forkful of the fairly-decent facsimile of scrambled eggs from the famed Officer’s Mess Hall of NAS Miramar.

Mav rolled his eyes and hastily swallowed his own forkful of eggs. “I said, are you looking forward to teaching the next generation of pilots like us, Ice?”

“Like me?

Yes.

Like you?

No.”

With Slider’s approval, he had taken the instructor assignment after it was offered to him shortly after the Layton, he and Slider wanting a little stability for two or three years—maybe even four—the Layton mission having shaved off what felt like a whole decade from their lifespan.

The fact that he was going to be able to fly and show off—sorry—instruct, was a nice bonus.

And the fact that his wingman, the only other pilot who could hold a candle to him, was also an instructor, was another plus.

They’d kick the asses of the hotshots they were going to teach, no problem.

“Oh, come on, you know I’m the best,” Mav grinned, nearly maniacally.

Tom put his scrambled eggs in his mouth, and made a show of chewing and swallowing, before replying, “Second best,” gesturing with his fork.

“I’m the best and you know it,” Mav practically vibrated.

Tom squinted at his wingman. “How much sugar did you put in your coffee?”

The other pilot froze guiltily. “I’m sorry.”

He sighed—hyper Mav was even more of a chaotic gremlin than normal Mav.

The younger man had an incredibly high, almost unnatural, tolerance for sugar, but put enough of it in his system, and you got one Pete Mitchell who could fly without a jet.

Tom had personally seen the other man put what seemed like half a sugar bottle in one cup of coffee. “Why?”

Mav pouted, looking like a child, and not the twenty-four year-old naval aviator he was. “I just wanted to indulge myself a little, Ice, ‘cause, you know, we’re instructors—together—we’re gonna kick ass—it’s gonna be great!”

“I know we’re gonna kick ass, but you’re not going to be able to instruct if you’re vibrating so much they can’t even see you,” Tom chuckled, shaking his head, trying to figure out how he could burn off Mav’s extra energy before they, along with Viper and Jester, had to head to the classroom to greet their new students later that morning.

“I know—but I just wanted something a little sweet as a treat,” Mav murmured, green eyes cast down and glazed with shame, and he got a glimpse of the child his wingman must have been over fifteen years ago.

He softened on the younger pilot, and reached out to ruffle the raven hair with a soft smile. “‘m not mad at you, Mav, it’s okay.”

Mav pulled away with a grimace and a slap at Tom’s hand, before fussing with his dark hair, but the familiar light returned to the other man’s eyes, though with considerably less mania than two minutes ago.

They continued eating, but Tom’s devious side reared its head. “You do know what this means, though, right?”

“Wha’?”

Tom nearly laughed right there.

Mav had half a forkful of eggs balanced on his lower lip.

“You and I are going to go for a little run around the south hangars, to burn off that energy.”

An intense green stare fixed on him, clearly considering. “Okay, fine—I might… might have overdone it a little bit with the sugar packets.”

“A ‘little’, huh?

Good for you, bud, getting more self-aware.”

“Fuck you, Kazansky,” Mav smirked.

“No thanks, not in the mood,” Tom grinned. “Come on, finish up, so we can get a decent shower after our run.”

“You okay there, old man?” came the smug voice not far above his head.

“Two—two years, that’s all you have on me, Mav,” Tom muttered, massaging the ankle and knee of his right leg, stretched out on the bench of the instructor’s locker room, mentally cursing the old injuries he’d sustained there from a bad ejection he and Sli endured during one of their first deployments, on the Constellation, when the arresting gear failed because a new crewman didn’t check the weight on the valve of the wire.

It was why he had to wear a wrap on his knee and ankle whenever he and Slider played volleyball.

Mav continued, “You know I was gonna kick your ass running even if I wasn’t amped up on sugar, right?

Tall people wear out faster—that’s what you get for being freakishly tall.”

Tom frowned. “If I’m freakishly tall, what’s Merlin?”

Long pause.

Smirk.

“No,” Mav accusingly pointed, “I refuse to fall for that—I will not speak ill of my RIO, even though I’m his teacher.”

Tom chuckled.

Merlin had been lucky to be selected for TOPGUN again, though it was with the caveat that he wouldn’t be able to win the trophy in his session, as his pilot was going to be an instructor.

Merls had taken it well in stride, glad to be at TOPGUN, even if it meant he’d only graduate, as a reserve RIO for his session.

“Hey, did you hear?

History’s being made this session—we’re teaching the first female naval aviator selected for TOPGUN,” Tom remarked, once he’d eased the ache in his knee and ankle.

“Yeah, I know—and I know her; hell of a pilot,” Mav nodded. “Hell of a woman too.”

“Oh?” a blond brow rose wryly.

“Yeah, I met her two or so years ago, when the Black Aces chopped in on the Big E.

Callsign’s Thorn.

And don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

Mav’s voice was slightly muffled as he dug through his locker for a stick of deodorant. “Like you think I know her… carnally.

Contrary to popular belief, I don’t flirt with any woman with a pulse.”

“Only most,” Tom nodded sagely, a smirk tugging his lips, even though his wingman couldn’t see it.

A finger was flipped in his direction over a shoulder. “Get in your khakis already, Icy-Hot-Man.”

He rolled his eyes, “Fuck you, Mav.”

“No thanks, not in the mood,” Mav threw back, and the shit-eating grin was audible in his voice, which made Tom secretly smile, to know his wingman and brother was happy.

After the two of them managed to get into their khakis in record time, they came up to the building with their classroom right with Jester and Viper, who spotted them and waved off their salutes. “Kazansky, Mitchell.

It’s good to see you both.

You ready.”

It was more statement than question, but despite the stoicism on the Vietnam veteran’s face, Tom could see the pride in his CO’s eyes, and the added glint of paternal pride, when he looked at Mav.

Though it made him sad to see that, reminding him of what he used to have, Tom was glad that the other aviator had a paternal influence in his adult life.

He’d had one before—Mav, on the other hand, hadn’t.

He really missed his Dedushka.

He pushed the thought away in time to see Viper gesture to follow him and Jester inside.

They all slipped their garrison caps off once they were under the fluorescent lights of the building, and the classroom door was in sight after a short walk.

“Alright,” Viper sighed, gaze running across all of them, a smile reminiscent of his callsign on his face, “time to school another batch of hotshots.

Let’s begin.”

The two wingmen exchanged a little grin, before squaring their shoulders and following Jester inside as Viper trailed behind.

“ATTENTION!!” Jester barked, striding to the front, Tom and Mav moving to the right side of the classroom, opposite the TV, following the order like everyone else in the room.

“At ease.”

At this, they all moved to parade rest, Tom and Mav having the luxury of clasping their hands before them, while Jester picked up a clipboard. “I will be calling out the driver and RIO teams.

After I call both your names, make yourselves known.

Lieutenant Solomon Bates, callsign “Warlock”, and Lieutenant Junior Grade Kenneth Han, callsign “Shogun”.”

“Present, sir!” an Asian man about Tom’s height, and a tall African-American man enthusiastically chorused.

“Lieutenant Stephen Ruth, callsign “Babe”, and Lieutenant Junior Grade Timothy Martin, callsign “Priest”.”

“Here, sir!”

“Lieutenant Edward Arellano, callsign “Belter”, and Lieutenant Junior Grade Gabriel Presleigh, callsign “Elvis”.”

“Yes, sir!”

Lieutenant Henry Baker, callsign “Snackbar”, and Lieutenant Junior Grade Matthias Novak, callsign “Links”.”

“Sir!”

“Lieutenant Julian Howell, callsign “Ash”, and Lieutenant Junior Grade Randall Simmons, callsign “Igor”.”

“Up and ready, sir!”

The pilot, Howell, it was plain to see, had an arrogant, smug look on his face, almost like he felt it was inevitable he’d be at TOPGUN, and Tom sent Mav a sideways glance, which the other man returned.

Any hop with that particular pair was going to be interesting, and it was clear from the look on his wingman’s face, that his immediate dislike of the pilot was shared by Mav.

Tom looked forward to him and Mav educating Howell as to who were the best pilots, in the final hops.

“And finally, Lieutenant __ __, callsign “Thorn”, and Lieutenant Junior Grade Emmett Kinford, callsign “Romeo.””

“Yes, sir!” came a resonant alto and an even, low baritone, the call jarring insofar as it was to hear a woman’s voice mixed with that of a man’s in this room, heretofore the demesne of men.

Both had even expressions on their faces, pilot and RIO gazing straight ahead, while the OCD part of Tom’s mind registered that their khakis were in better form than even his own, ribbons not the slightest bit out of place, with creases you could cut yourself on, and that was saying something.

Her hair was carefully pulled into the regulation tight bun, not a single strand out of place, and her RIO’s dark waves were also the picture of military perfection.

“You may be seated.” Jester said after a beat, casting his gaze shrewdly around the room. “I am Commander Rick Heatherly—callsign Jester.

I am the Executive Officer of Fighter Weapons School, known to all naval aviators as TOPGUN, and your Lead Opposing.

Each one of you have been selected for a very specific reason; to become the best of the best’s best.

Blinds.”

The room went dark as the blinds were shut, and the familiar video began playing, the familiar speech being recited.

Soon, Jester finished his speech, calling for the blinds to be opened.

Light flooded into the room, and Tom fought to look dignified, not squinty, even as the sun assaulted his eyes.

“I’d like to take this opportunity to introduce you to your Junior Instructors, and this school’s Secondary Opposing; Lieutenant Tom Kazansky, callsign “Iceman”, and Lieutenant Pete Mitchell, callsign “Maverick”, last year’s Top Gun, and second place finisher respectively—”

Both he and Mav somehow straightened further, nodding professionally at their class.

“—and finally, our Commanding Officer here at TOPGUN, the very first man to win the Top Gun Trophy; and there is not a finer naval aviator in the world.

Captain Mike Metcalf—callsign “Viper”.”

Viper strode in and told the first class of ‘87 much the same things he did the flyboys of ‘86, and they all turned to get a good look at the Top Gun Trophy, whose newest brass plaque bore the engraving “LT T. Kazansky & LTJG R. Kerner — 1986”.

“You think your names are going to be up there?” Viper gazed speculatively at the class.

However, this time, no one filled the silence with an affirmative response—unlike Mav the year before—though Ash and Igor had hungry and yet self-assured looks in their eyes.

“Well, regardless of whose name ends up in brass at the end of these five weeks, at the end of the day, you—we—are all on the same team.

Gentlemen—and lady,” Viper nodded towards Thorn, “this school is about combat—there are no points for second place.

Dismissed.”

“Report to the quartermaster for your housing assignments, you’ll have today to get settled.” Jester called out to the room at large, “and remember, tomorrow’s first class starts at 0800.”

Most of the class quickly shuffled out of the room, but not before a few of them shot Thorn and Romeo, both of whom were still seated, skeptical—and in Ash and Igor’s case, outright dirty—looks, looks which she ignored, though one would have to be blind not to notice the protective menace emanating from her RIO despite the similar expression of indifference on his features.

But once her classmates had filed out, Thorn looked towards him and Mav, her indifference giving way to a radiant smile.

“Mav,” she exclaimed, striding over.

“Acey!” his wingman laughed, pulling her into a hug, briefly lifting her a slight distance off the floor.

“Fuck, it’s good to see you!”

“You too—it’s been too long.”

“Yeah—” here her expression sobered, “and I’m so sorry—I heard about Nick—Ro and I couldn’t believe it.”

“Nick was a great guy, it was such a shock—damn canopy of all things,” Romeo said, having walked over to give Mav a warm pat on the shoulder.

“Thanks,” Mav breathed evenly, a bit too evenly for Tom’s liking. “Oh, uh, Thorn, Romeo, this is my f-friend and wingman, Tom Kazansky.”

All too glad to take the spotlight to give Mav time to breathe, he stepped forward, extending his hand. “You can call me Ice, it’s good to meet you.

Mav’s told me about you, Thorn.”

“Oh?

Only good things, I hope,” she said, shaking his hand.

Her hand had the same callouses he and most fighter pilots had—which gave him a bit of cognitive dissonance, because he was used to only feeling those callouses on other men—with a strong grip, and a confident posture as she looked up at him.

“Practically praised you to the stars and back,” he smiled, letting go of her hand.

“Hello, I’m chopped liver,” Romeo wryly stated as he shook Tom’s hand. “Call me Ro.”

“You’re hardly chopped liver, Ro, you’re the sixth best RIO I know,” Mav interjected, his voice and breathing seeming more like baseline.

“Thank you, I guess?” Romeo frowned.

Thorn broke in, “I gotta admit, for a second, I was kind of worried that you’d suddenly become too good for the likes of me and Ro, Mr. TOPGUN-Instructor and Three-Confirmed-Kills, I swear, Mav, that was the stillest I’ve ever seen you.”

The aforementioned man shrugged. “That’s Ice’s influence.

Got to stand still so you hotshots have a chance to admire us.”

Thorn huffed a light-hearted laugh, but Mav continued, “And I only got those kills thanks to this guy.

I had to lead some of the MiGs away so that he could have one all to himself,” Mav beamed, waggling his eyebrows.

Thorn blinked, “Oh yeah, you’ve got one too.”

Before he could reply, Mav proudly cut in, “Yes, he does—and this guy held out against five MiGs.”

“Sli and I’d have burned in if you didn’t get there in time, Mav,” Tom said, determined that his wingman would get the praise he deserved.

Said wingman turned, eyes narrowed hopefully. “Is this you admitting I’m the better pilot?”

He scoffed lightly, “Any pilot would have trouble against five adversaries, the best or not.”

“I’ll get you to admit it one day,” the diminutive pilot muttered.

Tom clapped Mav on the shoulder. “Today is not that day, buddy.”

Another huffed laugh had the two wingmen remembering that their students were still in the room.

Romeo was shaking his head in the way of those who have fondly dealt with the inimitable Pete Mitchell, and Thorn had a small smile on her face, but it was no less bright than the one she had when she greeted Mav. “You look good, Mav.”

“Uhh… thanks?

But I always do.”

Thorn scoffed, and Romeo rolled his eyes so hard, Tom was surprised the RIO didn’t pull something.

She turned to him, a look in her eyes that spoke as if he had passed some test he didn’t know about, turning the tables on him, her instructor, and they weren’t even in the air yet. “You keep taking care of this Firebird for me, huh?”

Something about receiving her unsought approval shot a bolt of feeling through him, searing through his being, like standing in the middle of a lightning storm. “Of course.”

“Good,” she breathed, her small smile turning to a grin. “I guess—I guess Ro and I better go, because I’m sure our classmates got the good housing already.”

“We’ll accompany you to your housing, once you get your assignment—the uh—” he cleared his throat and sniffed, “the housing here is laid out pretty weird.”

Tom could feel Mav’s gaze snap to him at a practically supersonic speed, but he ignored it, in favor of shooting Thorn a charming, if not slightly awkward, smile.

Her head tilted at a slight angle, keen gaze analyzing him like he was some sort of problem she couldn’t quite solve. “If that’s what you want to do with your time, sure thing, sir.”

His brain shut down on him for a split second, for some odd reason, but he managed to evenly reply, “We’re the same rank.”

“That shiny Junior Instructor title of yours begs to differ, but whatever you say… sir.”

A nudge at his side snapped him out of whatever strange fugue his brain was trying to drag him into.

He’d have to get more sleep, he figured.

“What’d I tell you, Ice?

Sometimes I wonder if Acey here should have been the Firebird instead of me—because I’m well on my way to becoming an ace, as you all know,” Mav declared.

“Imagine being deployed with this for months,” Thorn sighed, but with a teasing glimmer in her eyes.

“Imagine agreeing to get stationed with him, and being his wingman,” Tom reparteed.

“Oh, I can,” she nodded knowingly. “I have stories, by the way.”

“Oh?

Do tell,” he grinned, playfully ignoring the groan from his wingman.

She blinked, her expression frozen for a split second, before she gestured to the aisle, “Mind if we walk and talk?”

“At your leave, Lieutenant.”

She shook her head slightly, but strode onwards, their strides matching in less than half a beat. “So there was this one incident with some shaving cream…”

When the four of them arrived at the quartermaster, as Thorn predicted, her and Romeo’s classmates were long gone.

“Hello, shitty housing,” she muttered, as she and Romeo approached the quartermaster, while he and Mav stood a ways behind.

“You’re being weird.”

“What?” Tom turned to see Mav staring at him like he was an F-14 requiring diagnostics and a shit-ton of maintenance.

“I said you’re being weird—”

“Yeah,” he slowly began, “I heard you the first time, Mav, what do you mean?”

“You—you’re being… nice,” was the other aviator’s perplexed reply, accompanied by an equally consterned gesture.

It was his turn to stare. “I am nice.”

“Uh-huh, but you’re not usually this—this, to people you don’t know.

Who are you, and what have you done to my wingman?”

If Tom were to be honest, he himself knew that he wasn’t exactly acting in character, but there was just something that tugged him to… be warmer towards Thorn and Romeo.

He put it down to wanting to repay the TOPGUN students for being kind to his brother, when not many others were.

“Any friend of yours is a friend of mine, Mav,” he said, sounding somewhat lame to even his own ears, truthful as it was.

“Okay, sure,” the other man nodded, in an extremely distrustful tone.

“Got it!” Thorn declared, she and Romeo marching up. “Let’s see what Government Issued shanty we’ll be put up in, shall we?

Looks like we’re at… 315 Vraciu.”

Tom spoke up. “That’s not bad, I think; a couple of our classmates last year were put up in that same housing—Charles Piper and Marcus Williams—and I don’t think they had any problems.”

Romeo clicked his tongue, “Well, that’s a first—less-than half-decent housing’s usually par for the course for me and Thorn.

This’ll be a refreshing change.”

Tom would never understand why good pilots were blamed for things they couldn’t change, Mav for his father’s “betrayal” and his own unconventional flying style, and Thorn for her gender, through relentless hazing and/or poor treatment.

If he ever rose high enough to change things, he swore he would.

The housing was a basic, cookie cutter home a little over a five minute drive from the main TOPGUN building, and on the way there, Thorn and Mav were seated in the back of Tom’s truck, catching up, while Romeo sat shotgun.

Glancing in the rearview mirror, Tom saw that both pilots were animatedly discussing things that had happened since the last time they saw each other, including the infamous inverted-over-a-MiG situation.

“Are they always like this?” he said in sotto voce to the RIO beside him.

Romeo flicked his dark gaze to the backseat, a soft smile on his face. “Yeah.

It’s nice to see her happy.

Not a lot of people think much of her, since she’s a woman, you know.

But Mav, he and Goose, they never saw that, they just saw a good pilot, and I’m grateful.

They were the only ones who wanted to fly with us.”

Tom frowned in disbelief. “You’re kidding.”

If Mav was singing her praises, she must be a phenomenon in the sky—who wouldn’t want to be part of that?

“Nope.

They were the only ones who volunteered, so they kind of got stuck with us that whole deployment.”

At this point, they arrived at 315 Vraciu, and they all hopped out, the two students carrying their seabags to the door.

Thorn unlocked the door, she and Romeo tossing their bags in the entrance. “Well, thanks for the ride,” she nodded, Romeo doing likewise behind her.

“No problem, my pleasure,” Tom replied, clasping his hands behind his back.

“I’ll see you both around, I guess.”

He imagined that her eyes lingered longer on him than they did on Mav, and… he didn’t exactly know how he felt about that.

Mav threw off a nonchalant salute while he sent a respectful nod, before they moved to go back to his truck.

They were halfway there when they heard, “Hey Mav!”

The two of them halted, turning to see the fire of challenge in Thorn’s brilliant eyes. “You gonna take it easy on me?”

Mav scoffed, “You think I’m an idiot?”

She carefully maintained a blank look, and Mav flipped her off with a grin.

Her expression sharpened, gaze landing on him, callsign all too accurate, as the edge of defiance in her voice rang through the air. “And how about you—are you going to take it easy on me?”

He had to admire her for that already.

“If you’re as good as Mav says, that’d be a damn injustice.”

Her answering smile was dagger-keen. “Looking forward to seeing you up there, then.”

Something in him thrilled to the thought of having another worthy opponent in the sky. “It’ll be a highlight of my day, I’m sure.”

“We’ll see.”

Though not unkindly, the door shut in their faces soon after.

Tom stared at the door a moment longer, before again turning to see Mav frowning.

“You’re really being weird.”

“…Shut up, Mav.”

“Alright boys—just to remind you, we have the classes in the morning, and we’re going up in the afternoon.

For the first hop, it’s going to be Jester against Thorn and Romeo, Mitchell against Warlock and Shogun, then Ash and Igor.”

An unexpected wave of disappointment washed over Tom as he realized Viper’s hop arrangement meant he wouldn’t get to fly against Thorn the first day, but he managed to keep most of the expression off his face, especially with Mav treating him like a problem to solve the whole rest of last night.

Indeed, the shorter man was and had been surreptitiously studying him.

“Which leaves me with Belter and Elvis, and you, Kazansky, with Snackbar and Links, then Babe and Priest, for the second hop.”

Just a banner day for Thomas Kazansky, wasn’t it?

Couldn’t fly against Thorn, and didn’t even get to school Ash and Igor.

“Everyone understand?”

A chorus of “Yes, sir!”s rang through the room, and Viper nodded, pleased.

“Dismissed, then.

To your classes, gentlemen.”

Viper knocked a fist against the table twice before he and Jester departed the briefing room.

Tom gathered his folders and looked at his wingman, who was neatening a very short stack of papers. “I was hoping to have first crack at Ash and Igor,” he muttered.

“I know,” Mav smirked.

Resigned, he sighed, “Well, kick their ass extra hard for me, will ya?”

The smaller man’s smirk took on a devilish quality. “I’ll draw first blood, then you wipe the floor with them, and us together, it’ll be game over,” he stated, as he extended a fist.

“Sounds like a plan,” Tom nodded, sealing the agreement with a fist bump.

As he bent to pick up his attaché case, Tom’s eyes were again drawn to the minuscule stack of papers the other man had. “You got the material for your class today, right?”

“Uhhh, yeah, sort of,” Mav shrugged.

“‘Sort of’.

What exactly do ‘sort of’ class materials look like?”

Mav spread his hands, and he knew. “In all honesty, I was gonna just kind of wing it.”

Tom honestly should have seen it coming—but Maverick mavericking was what made Maverick, Maverick.

“Okay,” he replied, trying to hide his grin. “Sounds good.

Good—good, good.”

He managed to hold his laughter in until he reached the hall, but even then, an “Up yours, Ice!” followed him around the corner.

Tom’s class went smoothly, and after a lunch that he eagerly finished, he eventually found himself in his flight gear, fidgeting in the instructor’s ready room.

Having completed his preflight, he decided to chalk his restlessness down to the novelty of flying an A-4, a single-seater, with no Slider in his ear or backseat, as he listened intently to the comms for the first hop, Viper doing the same across the room.

Mav and Jester engaged Warlock and Shogun, and Thorn and Romeo, respectively, once the Commander called “Fight’s on!”, and Mav made short work of Warlock and Shogun, getting tone on the other pilot and RIO in a little over two minutes.

Commendable, in his opinion, for their students.

Mav called for them to knock it off and return to base, before moving on to Ash and Igor.

It was then that he realized that Jester was still engaged with Thorn and Romeo.

Romeo was evenly calling out altitudes, positions, and break directions, while Thorn composedly called maneuvers out, interrupted only by the sound of the two aviators g-straining, the F-14’s engines in the background.

He briefly turned his attention to Mav, who had engaged Ash and Igor; the two were, as he predicted, scrambling wildly for their “lives” (and based on what he was hearing, would get tone locked in a matter of seconds), in radical contrast to Thorn, who was calmly holding her own.

In his head, he could see a vague picture of what was going on up there with Jester, Thorn, and Romeo, and Tom realized that he wasn’t sure how it was going to end, the sound of Mav getting tone on Ash and Igor fading into the background.

Tom could hear the strain in Thorn and Romeo’s voices as they fought more g-forces while calling movement and other things out—they had to be at or near corner speed to make them sound like that.

Tom could hear the faint, steady beeping which warned of imminent tone lock, and he hoped she would win this, if only to prove his wingman’s faith in her skill correct.

Just as the beeping grew faster, Thorn muttered, “Just a little… come on, come on…”

He leaned forward in his seat, and realized he was holding his breath, but he couldn’t bring himself to inhale.

Then suddenly, the blare of confirmed tone.

Disappointment for her sake sank in his stomach, but only for the briefest moment, because the voice which triumphantly called out “Good lock!” was distinctly female. “That’s a kill, Commander!”

And Tom could breathe again.

Holy shit, Mav was right—she was a hell of a pilot.

Thorn managed to keep too much of the gloating out of her tone, but it was a fairly narrow thing, and in his opinion, it was justified.

A faint sound caught his attention—if he didn’t know any better, Tom could have sworn that that was a… fond chuckle that came from Jester.

“Copy kill.

Well, knock it off, Lieutenant, and RTB.”

“Yes, sir!”

Without really thinking about it, he went to the flight line, in time to see the three F-14s and two A-4s land.

His eyes were drawn to her jet as she pulled in to the flight line, and he was faintly aware of Mav’s A-4 pulling up beside his.

She’d done the impossible; Thorn, a female naval aviator, got chosen for TOPGUN, and got tone on her instructor the first day.

Technically, that wasn’t anything new—Mav had done similar—but in a sense, it was.

Women were just starting to be seen as capable of being in the military, in combat roles, to be exact, and to see a woman do something that had been the domain of men for decades, centuries, and do it just as well as a man—better even; as evidenced by the fact that in her hop, she was the only one to get tone on her instructor…

He really had to admire that—admire her.

“That good enough of an ass kicking for ya, Ice?”

Tom was snapped out of his introspection from the sudden appearance of his wingman at his side, running a hand through his hair, helmet under his arm.

“What?”

Mav grinned, “I got tone on Ash and Igor in roughly a minute or so.

How the fuck those two got picked for TOPGUN eludes me.”

Tom scoffed and shook his head in agreement. “Bet I can get tone on them faster, though.”

Mav slapped him on the shoulder, “We’ll see, Ice.”

A sudden whoop of jubilant laughter drew his gaze, and he could see Thorn about thirty paces away, coming ever closer, and his breath caught in his throat—her mouth was split in a beaming smile, wild and passionate, illuminating her from within with effervescent joy, her shining eyes endlessly reflecting her exhilaration.

Her bun was coming slightly loose, tendrils of hair framing her face and swaying in the breeze, while her flight suit clung to her figure, helmet dangling insouciantly from her fingers; it was decorated with a briar all over, red roses among thorns made of black aces, and it had her callsign across its brow.

Her eyes landed on him, and her smile took on a mischievous quality. “We got Jester, nailed him on the first day.

You gonna be ready for us?” Then, as if she only noticed Mav next to him at that moment, she amended, “Both of you?”

He grinned, just shy of showing too many teeth, nonchalantly stepping closer, shifting his weight to lean towards her, hip slightly cocked to keep his balance, barely paying any mind to the tension in Romeo’s stance behind his pilot. “We’ll see who gets tone on whom first.”

Thorn smirked as she looked him up and down, teeth tugging her bottom lip for the briefest moment before she clicked her tongue, “Good thing I’ve got front row seats for that show, then.” She pivoted on her heel, walking backwards as she sent him a casual salute, before turning to stride back to the locker room, Romeo following her with a minutely narrowed glance over his shoulder at him.

“Huh.”

He turned from watching the pilot and RIO, to see Mav again at his side, glancing back and forth between him and Thorn and Romeo.

Tom frowned, “What ‘huh’?”

“Nothing, nothing,” came the too-quick answer. “Just huh.”

“…Now who’s being weird?”

Tom’s hop with Viper was not quite as interesting as Mav with Jester’s, though he did have to commend all three pilots for holding out for a few minutes, which was more than Ash and Igor could say.

The debrief was a thing of beauty—going in reverse order from lowest to highest hop score, meant that he got to witness Mav positively eviscerate Ash and Igor as the first order of business, and the sheer stupidity that Ash displayed in the air, made Tom wonder what guardian angel or deity sent this idiot to TOPGUN.

He mentally saw a dozen different maneuvers that Ash could have done, that, while they might not have gotten him tone on Mav, they would have helped him last longer against the other pilot.

The debrief drew on, Tom stepping forward when it was his turn, not sparing the other pilots their vivisections, though theirs were not quite as harsh, by sheer dint of them not being as idiotic as Ash and Igor, and finally, it was the debrief he was waiting for; Thorn and Romeo’s.

He had an idea of what happened in the air, but he wanted to know what exactly she had done.

It was textbook and yet genius.

He was right; once they hit the merge, flying at corner speed through a series of turns, Thorn had maneuvered to force Jester to increase his turn rate, bleeding his airspeed, playing the Skyhawk’s weakness against it, before before placing him in her sights.

“…all in all, great work, Lieutenant,” Jester complimented, writing her hop score of 5 on the board, the highest number of all the teams that day, sending her a nod.

Her face was impassive as she replied, “Thank you, sir,” but Tom could see the vindication in her eyes.

“Well, I’m sure you’ve all learned something from your classes and most especially, your hops today,” Viper declared, pacing the front of the classroom. “This is only the first day, and to borrow a saying from our SEAL cousins, ‘The only easy day was yesterday’.”

The Captain stared the students down, pair by pair, searching for something in each of them.

Finally, he stated, “You’re all dismissed.”

After Jester and Viper left, leaving him and Mav, as the junior instructors, to neaten things, Ash and Igor were predictably the first out the door—just shy of storming out, while most of the others looked at Thorn with less suspicion than the day before, a few actually lingering.

While he was fixing the markers, out of the corner of his eye, Tom saw Warlock step forward first, a light smile on his face. “Hey, uh, that was great, what you pulled today—I’m Solomon, but you can call me Sol or Warlock, whichever you prefer.

This is my RIO, Ken, but he prefers Shogun.”

The Asian man genially lifted a hand in greeting, “Really wish I could have seen that.”

Babe chuckled, “Yeah, that was good, wish I’d have thought of what you did, maybe I’d have had a chance against Kazansky—I’m Stephen.”

Priest, his RIO, cooed, “Aw, you embarrassed by your callsign, Babe?”

“Shut up, Tim,” Babe glared.

Priest raised both hands in surrender. “Not my fault your last name’s Ruth—I’m this stick in the mud’s RIO, Tim—call me Priest, that there’s Belter and Elvis.”

Tom almost laughed at the expression Thorn made; the momentary shock on her face was palpable, but it was swiftly concealed—the only reason it registered for him was because he was so used to reading Mav’s microexpressions.

“Thanks—nice to meet you all.

I’m Thorn, this’ Romeo, my RIO.”

Romeo shook hands with them all, a pleasant, but guarded expression on his face.

“You weren’t too bad up there yourselves, from what I heard,” she continued.

“Yeahhh, but who got tone on their instructor first day?

Not this guy,” Priest waggled his eyebrows, jerking both thumbs at his pilot, “and not any of these guys,” making the others groan or laugh.

Tom ducked his head, hiding his smile; he was glad that the others seemed to be warming up to her, he wanted her to have the same experience as he did at TOPGUN—establishing a brotherhood with his classmates.

“—Tom!”

He pivoted to see Mav snapping his fingers close to his face, and he reflexively flinched back from his wingman’s hand in his face. “What?”

He belatedly realized that he’d been saying that a little too much recently.

As if he were speaking to a particularly dull child, Mav spoke slowly. “Do you think I can erase the board now?”

“Yeah, uh, but not the scores.”

“Of course not.

You okay, Ice?”

“Yeah—fine, it’s just a… long day.”

The suspicion in Mav’s eyes didn’t fade as he sighed and nodded. “Feel up to The O Club tonight?

Maybe decompress a bit, have a drink?”

“That sounds great, actually.” Maybe a drink was what he needed, his mind seemed to be all over the place.

“‘Kay—meet you there?”

“Yeah.”

Once he finished with the room, he followed Mav out, sending a look to where Thorn was still talking with her classmates, to see that her gaze was already on him.

Her eyes immediately went back to her classmates, but nevertheless, he felt branded by her stare, like it was a tangible thing, searing through his veins, sending a paradoxical shiver down his spine.

Deep in the recesses of his mind, he could admit it; he didn’t know what it was, but he felt drawn to her.

To what end… he didn’t know.

And that…

That scared him.

Tom eased his precious Chevelle into a parking spot near the door of The O Club; a rarity, but one very welcomed, given how busy the bar seemed.

(The fact that it was within sight of Mav’s highly recognizable Ninja was a perk—he and Slider had stopped one too many parking lot beatdowns.)

He reached for his Shooters, narrowly stopping himself from putting them on (Mav hated it when he did that at night; “It makes you look like a dick”, according to his wingman), instead tucking them into the pocket of his whites, carefully opening the driver’s door, squeezing himself out of the narrow gap he afforded himself.

The black metal flake paint was pristine, and he intended to keep it that way, it didn’t matter how ridiculous he may look.

The O Club was, as the parking lot showed, busy, full of people in service whites, throwing him back to last year, that first night for the flyboys of ‘86.

He cast his gaze around the bar, peering through the haze of cigarette smoke and the people, searching for his wingman’s squirrelly figure, before a call of “Ice; over here!” pierced through the sound of numerous conversations and the jukebox, before a hand flailed wildly, becoming visible over the heads of the crowd.

Mav had claimed seats at the bar; prime real estate with the place this hectic—he didn’t want to know how the other man had kept the seat next to him free when every Tom (hah), Dick, and Harry were clamoring for a seat at the bar.

He made his way through the crowd, gratefully settling onto the barstool next to Mav, also dressed in his service whites. “Hey Mav,” he greeted.

“Hey; I ordered already, I assumed you’d want your usual vodka on the rocks.”

“Thanks; you know me too well.”

“Kind of hard to miss when it’s literally what you order every single time,” Mav smirked.

Tom rolled his eyes—he was a creature of habit, sue him.

(And if vodka on the rocks reminded him of his Dedushka, what was wrong with that?)

“Seems like all of Fightertown is here tonight,” he muttered to Mav.

“You’re not too far off on that, I saw basically all of our students here,” the other man replied, taking a sip of his beer. “Only ones I haven’t seen are Thorn and Romeo, actually,” he finished casually.

Rather against Tom’s will, something in him lurched forward, his thought process halting, making him feel like he’d just snagged the third wire on the carrier deck.

Despite that, he managed a calm—at least in his opinion—“Oh.”

“Mmm.” Another calm sip of beer from his wingman—too calm.

He narrowed his eyes and sighed at Mav. “What the fuck is that ‘Mmm’ for?”

The dark-haired aviator pulled an expression like he just sucked on a lemon. “What, can’t a guy just ‘Mmm’ anymore?”

“Not when you’ve been fucking weird for the past two days,” he replied, sending the harried bartender a grateful nod as they slid his vodka on the rocks over to him.

“I’m not weird, you’re weird,” was Mav’s reply, and he narrowed his eyes at the muted shimmer of something in the other pilot’s eyes.

He was about to retort when his eyes were drawn to the door, and the bulk of Romeo walked in, his head and whites-clad shoulders peeking above quite a few people’s.

It was mere curiosity, he told himself, that led him to lean to see if his pilot was also with him.

It took a beat, but then, several people in the crowd moved, and he saw her—her hair cascaded down her shoulders, as sharp eyes surveyed The O like it was the skies, dressed, unlike everyone else in the Navy who occupied this space, in civvies; a loose, white blouse tucked into jeans, cinched with a thick brown leather belt at her waist.

And everything seemed to fade into the background, the sight of her drowning out the sound of the bar, and Mav’s howling laughter.

To be continued…

Previous Part Next Part

Faceclaims

Russian glossary

Disclaimer: translations are from the interwebs.

Please don’t kill me.

Dedushka: Grandfather

Two years is the real-life age gap between Tom Cruise and Val Kilmer.

The story behind Ice and Slider’s bad ejection actually did happen to a pilot-RIO pair, then-Commander William Switzer and then-Lieutenant (junior grade) David “Bio” Baranek on December 19, 1981, aboard the very same aircraft carrier that I mentioned.

You can read the detailed description of the incident here, retold by Commander Baranek, for the Ejection Tie Club of the Martin-Baker company, who specialize in making ejection seats—including those of the F-14 Tomcat—for pilots and backseaters who have ejected using a Martin-Baker ejection seat.

VFA-41, the “Black Aces”, based out of NAS Lemoore, were featured in Top Gun: Maverick as the squadron of Natasha “Phoenix” Trace, and I thought that would be nice to include that, in this universe at least, Phoenix is a member of the squadron with the first female naval aviator selected for TOPGUN.

Icy-Hot is a liniment that has been on the market since before 1931.

The name of LTJG Kenneth “Shogun” Han is a reference to this scene in the now-ABC hit series, 9-1-1, where paramedic/firefighter Howard “Chimney” Han, played by actor Kenneth Choi, replies that if he weren’t a paramedic/firefigher, he’d have liked to be a Navy TOPGUN graduate, with the callsign “Shogun”.

The names of Henry “Snackbar” Baker, Stephen “Babe” Ruth, and Timothy “Priest” Martin are a reference to both the original name of Leonard “Wolfman” Wolfe—Henry Ruth—and the Martin-Baker company.

The speeches that Jester and Viper give are nearly word for word the same as the speeches that they gave in TG86, with some authorly variation because I didn’t want to rehash the same speeches that we heard in the movie word for word.

Again, VF-1, a now inactive squadron based out of NAS Miramar, is the squadron that Mav and Goose belonged to before they went to TOPGUN, although it must be noted that, like most of the squadron patch designs in Top Gun, the patch design as seen on Mav and Goose’s flight suits, is incorrect and not matching the squadron designation, instead bearing the insignia of VAW-110, the “Firebirds”, who flew the E-2 Hawkeye, which was shown as Comanche in TG:M.

Alexander Vraciu was a WWII Navy ace who downed 12 Japanese aircraft and sank a Japanese merchant ship with a direct hit to her stern.

The merge is a concept used in air combat, where aerial warfighters engage with enemy aircraft by steering their plane toward the adversary—this maneuver is referred to as “going to the merge.”

Corner Speed

Did anyone catch the TG:M line reference?

Special thanks to @valmare for the Ice has a Chevelle headcanon!

Service Whites

Taglist

@valmare

@callsign-skydancer

@permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88

@tadomikiku

@malindacath

@aviatorobsessed

@lynnevanss

@djs8891

If you’d like to join my taglist, just send me an ask!

#top gun rocktober #top gun #top gun fanfiction #top gun fanfic #tom iceman kazansky x reader #tom kazansky x reader #tom iceman kazansky #tom kazansky #val kilmer

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fayes-fics · 1 year

Text

Skinny-Dip

2k Celebration Masterpost

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU

Summary: A chance encounter in a rooftop pool after midnight

Warnings: Nudity, flirting. banter. Nothing explicit.

Word Count: 1.0 k (250 words drabbles I am too funny)

Authors Note: Eleventh in my 2k Follower Celebration drabbles. This is a request fill for @musicismyoxygen84 with the prompt “I forgot my towel” (ask here). Sorry lovely, I have no idea where this came from, but I hope you don't mind it. Unbetaed. Enjoy! <3

“We have to!” you point excitedly at the rooftop pool.

“You’re on your own…”

“C'mon, it will be funnnnn,” you insist. “I'm not suggesting skinnydipping; just dip our toes in!”

“Nooo. Bed for me. Too tipsy, Enjoyyyyy,” she slurs and pats your cheek.

And thus, you find yourself, without your best friend, making your way outside to the rooftop pool at 1 am.

When you get there, there’s a lovely gentle breeze and the lights of the city twinkle all around. It’s quite magical in some ways. Or maybe that's the wine talking.

You are humming to yourself, removing your shoes and sitting at the pool edge, when you belatedly realise you are not alone. Someone is already in the pool at the far end. It's a man, only his head above the water, and he appears to be looking over at you slightly sheepishly as if you have interrupted something that he shouldn't be doing. Now that you are paying attention, you can see he is rather handsome.

“Miss, please could you do me a favour?” his smooth, refined, posh really, voice rings out.

Your brow knits. “What?”

“I don't suppose you could pass me one of those, could you?” he requests politely, nodding to the rack on the wall behind you. “I forgot my towel.”

“Why can't you get one yourself?” you retort with alcohol-induced bluntness after a brief look behind.

“I wasn't expecting anyone else to come out here…” he begins, and there appears to be an adorable tint high on his cheekbones.

“So?” you shrug.

“Well, I had thought a skinny dip would be refreshing…” he confesses awkwardly.

And the penny drops.

“Ohhhh….”

You can't help it; your gaze drops. But even with the pool lit underwater, you can't make anything out at this distance. Sadly. If only there weren't so much chop in the water, you might have a better ch…

“Don't you believe me or something?” he questions with a teasing lilt, and you guiltily snap your eyes back to his face and see the smug crooked smile there. He knows exactly what you were doing.

“Sorry, I… look, it's a natural reaction…” you throw your hands up, your tipsy brain not bothering to attempt a lie. “I’d do the same if you told me there was a plane in the sky. I’m going to look. It’s who I am.”

“There is a plane in the sky,” he fires back deadpan, and you look up on instinct.

Sure enough, there are indeed some telltale blinking lights.

“Well, at least you were being honest.” he chuckles.

You stick your tongue out, and that makes him laugh harder.

“So… towel? Please?” he looks hopeful.

You lean back casually on your hands, knowing it pushes out your breasts, and cock your head to the side. This could be fun.

“That seems like a you problem,” you shoot back with a raised eyebrow. You want to see where this could go. If nothing else, it's a fun flirtation.

He gapes at you momentarily, and then he smirks.

“If I have to get out naked to get one for myself, it will surely become a you problem?” he opines, swimming towards you.

“I’m willing to run that risk,” you answer back, and there's a little frisson through your body as he draws closer, and you can see just how attractive he is. Oh shit, that is one handsome face.

“Well, I suppose I should introduce myself as you insist on seeing me in the altogether,” he states drily as he draws up right in front of where your feet dangle into the water. “I’m Benedict,” he offers as he stands up to full height in the water.

And for a split second, you just stare. Watching rivulets of water run from broad shoulders onto a smooth, toned chest smattered with freckles down to a tapered waist. Oh shit, that is an excellent body too.

“Y/n…” you respond, distracted, your tongue feeling heavier in your mouth.

“Nice to meet you, y/n.” The tone is warm, pitched lower and something in your gut flutters.

“Likewise,” you respond, feeling a tug of a smile at the corner of your lips. “And for the record, I am not insisting on anything. You could stay in this pool until I am done dipping my toes, and then there is no need to show me anything,” you point out with a wry tone.

“And how long might that be?” he inquires, bemused, crossing his arms in a way that seems to intentionally enhance the muscle in his arms. Bastard.

“Ah, that's one of life’s great mysteries, isn't it?” you shoot back, feeling a glow spreading behind your ribs that this could be something. It's been a while since you flirted so easily with anyone, especially anyone this handsome.

“There is another answer to the dilemma here,” he offers, dipping back into the water and pulling up to your left side.

“I’m listening….” you gaze down at him, captured by his soft hazy eyes.

“If you were skinny dipping too, then we would be equally embarrassed,” he offers nonchalantly with a lazy smile, kicking his body out backwards, intentionally, so you can see that he is indeed very naked. And his bottom and legs are very shapely too. You are left in no doubt now, and the spike of endorphins through your bloodstream is exhilarating.

“Now there is an idea…” you flirt back and, throwing caution to the wind, push off your hands and slip into the pool. The cool water is a balm to your heated body, flush with excitement and possibility.

“You're still dressed,” he twists towards you and pouts, eyes sparkling, that killer lopsided grin returning.

“Am I…?” you volley back and raise an eyebrow as you peel off your top and throw it onto the poolside.

The look he shoots you is blistering, and you know, without a shadow of a doubt, you are about to tick ‘sex in a pool’ off of your bucket list.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @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 @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23 @last-sheep

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #2k follower celebration

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jackharloww · 1 year

Note

Grace request: can you write about the reader having a hard pregnancy day maybe she’s nauseous or something and Gracie wants to help Jack take care of her mommy?

Your second pregnancy was much harder then your first. You were nauseous all the time and further along in your pregnancy you had severe back pains. You’d been staying at home a lot, but last night you had your friends birthday celebration so you went out for that and had a lot of fun. This morning though…. Not so much fun.

You woke up with Grace lying next to you and Jack, what woke you up were the pains in your back and you were feeling very nauseous. You slowly got up from bed before walking as fast as you could to the bathroom to throw up. You sat next to the toilet when you finished and after a few seconds you heard a few knocks, before a tired Jack opened the door.

“Oh baby, how’s it going” he gave you a pout and walked over to you before helping you up.

“Not good” you mutter and walk over to the sink to wash your mouth and brush your teeth. Jack hugged you from behind. He kissed your shoulder and gently rubbed your round bump.

"You should go lay down, I'll make breakfast" Jack mumbled with his lips against your shoulder before standing up straight. You leaned your head back on his chest and closed your eyes, you felt like shit.

After a few seconds, you walked back to the bedroom and laid down on the bed. Grace had woken up while you were in the bathroom and now she was sitting up with a big smile on her face. She grabbed Carrot and shoved it in your face.

"mommy play?" Grace spoke with a loud voice, you only gave her a smile when jack spoke.

"Gracie let's not disturb mommy right now, she doesn't feel that good" Jack told her as he sat on his side of the bed, bringing Grace closer to him.

"why?" Grace asked concerned and looked over at you with her big eyes.

"Mommy's back hurts and she's nauseous" he explained

"Nawtjuss?" Grace scrunched her nose and tilted her head to the side, not understanding what Jack meant.

"It means she has the sickies and wants to throw up," he said, kissing Grace on her head.

"Oh no," Grace got out of Jack's arms and very gently snuggled closer to you. "mommy wants snuggles?" she asked sweetly, knowing you would always ask her that when she felt bad. You gave her a soft smile and nodded and she put a hand on your stomach.

"I'll go make breakfast" Jack smiled and walked to make breakfast. Grace tried her best to just stay and cuddle with you, but her energy didn't let her do that for too long.

"I go help daddy," she said and got up from beside you, going to see what Jack was doing.

"Daddy I help you to make mama feel good" Grace put a hand on her hip and was all ready to help in whatever way she could. Jack chuckled at her and grabbed the mint box from the counter.

"These usually help her, you want to give her one?" Jack hand the box to Grace and she nodded and opened the box, she smelled it and immediately scrunched her nose "It smells stinky" she said and pulled her head back away from the box, Jack laughed at her weird face making. She closed the box before running back to where you were.

"mommy dad said you want these, stinky candy" she explained and gave you the box, you chuckled and took one and put it in your mouth.

"Thank you baby" you smiled and gently stroked her cheek. "Can you tell daddy to bring me the heating pad?" You asked her and she took her helping role very seriously, she ran back to Jack that was standing making sandwiches.

"Mommy want heat pad, and do we have ice cream?" she asked and Jack looked at her confused.

"Ice cream? Your mom wanted that?" he asked while he went to grab the heating pad, Grace following him while he took it and walked back to the kitchen to heat it up.

"The ice cream is for me," she said guiltily with a small giggle, earning a chuckle from Jack.

"you got to eat breakfast first stink" Jack ruffled her hair, and she let out a deep sigh "you stink" she mumbled and followed Jack into your bedroom with the heating pad in his hands. They sat on the bed and Jack helped you put the heating pad on your back.

"I'm going to sleep a bit more" you mumbled and brought the covers closer to you.

"And we're going to eat breakfast" Jack smiled and picked Grace up, "And then Ice cream" Grace yelled and raised her arms up. Jack laughed but quickly shushed her "inside voice baby, let's let mommy rest," he told her and they both sat down and ate breakfast, letting you rest and take it easy for the rest of the day.

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

taglist: @hoodharlow , @pianoisland , @harlowcomehome , @itsyagirljaz , @neon-lights-and-glitter , @heavyhitterheaux , @nattinatalia , @harlowsbby

#jack harlow #jack fic #jack harlow fic #jackharlow #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow concepts #jack x reader #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow stories #Grace Harlow #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow imagines #jack harlow x you #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow fan fiction

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kiatheinsomniac · 2 years

Text

KINKTOBER 2022

✩*⢄⢁✧day thirty: age difference - Thranduil

tag: #Tyelpëlos Kinktober Event

notes: I told myself I wouldn't write any more long oneshots for kinktober and did I listen? No AHAHA which is why this is late BUT this fic marks the end of my kinktober! This was so much fun and I'd love to do it again next year with Eden! This is my first time writing daddy kink and I would like to just really emphasize that all characters are 18+ and I was hoping the mention of reader having some alcohol would help convey this however I later realised that might be misinterpreted as underage drinking otherwise lmao. Reader is an adult but it's just a family vacay, ok? Good. Now that that's out of the way, enjoy!

word count: 5.3k

warnings: smut, NSFW, MDNI, age difference, older man/younger woman, modern! AU, mentions of alcohol consumption, daddy kink

You flipped through pictures of your holiday so far: of your family and that of your brother’s friend Legolas. Your fathers met through their sons and got on really well and so your two families had ended up planning a holiday together, staying in a flashy hotel on a hot coastline. In your hotel room, you revelled in the salt in their air from the balcony door, the quiet whir of the air conditioner, the cool chill of it against the aloe vera on your skin after being between the blistering sun and warm shade all day on the beach, near inhaling one of the books that you had brought with you for entertainment.

Speaking of entertainment, you were – very guiltily – finding that your fantasies were no longer restricted to the characters to your book but seemed to have latched onto Legolas’ father Thranduil. The epitome of a dilf, you had thought the first time you saw him. He looked like he had stepped right out of one of your fantasy worlds, Game of Thrones or something, and had just perfectly settled into the modern world – well, except for his rather pointed ears which his son seemed to have inherited from him. He was utterly gorgeous: possessing a towering height, a face that could strike envy within an angel, hair like flowing silk and a powerful sort of confidence about him.

Some stupid part of you was thrilled to be looking so dolled up in his presence tonight. You weren’t one to splash your cash on designer clothes but your heart had just been ensnared by this particular dress. The price tag was enough to put you off for a moment but it was just so beautiful and nothing that you would see everyday. It was a soft white and fell to your mid-thigh, short and sheer puffy sleeves, a dipping neckline that wasn’t low enough to really be considered anything scandalous. It had a sheer layer that shimmered slightly over the silky material of the dress that felt simply exquisite against your skin, the sheer layer being decorated with lacy butterflies and flowers that just slightly lifted away from the material they were sewn too. Trying it on in the fitting room really had been enough to tempt you into spending your money for that month. You couldn’t afford to treat yourself to anything else and had to be careful with your money until you got your next paycheck at the end of the month but as you sat down in the hotel’s restaurant, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it one bit.

Dinner was going really well and damn did Thranduil look good in those hunter green slacks and that white button down, undoing the top buttons and rolling up the sleeves- You had to stop yourself from nearly drooling as you glanced at the young man with long golden hair at the table, reminding yourself that you were thirsting over his father who was a widowed man. How terrible could you possibly be? Besides, even if he were seeking a partner, you were near sure that it wouldn’t be someone a year younger than his son.

And that was when dinner stopped going really well because your brother dropped his phone and, in reaching out to try and grab it before it hit the table, he knocked over your glass of vodka and orange juice which went rolling off the table and straight down your front and into your lap with how close you had been sitting to the table to avoid dropping anything in your new expensive dress. There was a big fuss about it, especially from your mother who got to scolding your older brother as though he were still a child but you weren’t interested in being fussed over or hearing your brother apologise, you were just upset over your new dress, the one thing you had treated yourself to in a long time, being ruined. You would feel stupid for crying about it in front of everyone – let alone in public – so you simply dismissed yourself from the table, saying you would return to the hotel to get out of the dress and take a shower, the orange juice already feeling sticky against your upper thighs.

So, you did exactly that. You left the restaurant to go to the lift where you went up to the floor of your hotel room, shifting your phone in your hand to get the keycard before remembering that you had left it on the restaurant table. How could you be so careless? Likely because you were very upset. You let out a single sob at how one bad thing had happened after another but caught yourself, knowing that you would have to face everyone again when you went to collect your key. So, you marched back up the corridor to the lift, pressing the down button before the doors opened to reveal Thranduil who then held up your key between two fingers.

“I thought you might need this.” His usual stoic face softened to a sympathetic look, “Come on, sweetheart, let’s get you cleaned up.” He spoke, setting his hand between your shoulder blades and guiding you towards your family’s room, unlocking your door and holding it open for you. The door locked behind you. “You seemed so upset, I thought you could do with some company so you wouldn’t be alone with it this evening.”

“The evening?” You raised a brow at the implication of his words.

“Everyone else has decided to go out for drinks but I have an important work call to take in the morning so I had to pass on it anyway.” The corner of his mouth quirked up in amusement, “I’m trusting your father will be able to keep Legolas in line.”

“He raised my brother, I’m sure he can manage anyone at this point.” You replied, making Thranduil laugh lowly and it quelled your want to weep for your ruined dress. But the silent tears were still there and you lowered your head to try and hide them, feeling that he would see you as silly and childish for crying over clothes.

“Oh, sweetheart,” He cooed and watched as you sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at the orange juice staining the lap of your white dress. You felt the mattress dip with his weight beside you and you kept your head down, cursing the hot tears brimming in your eyes, “it’s such a shame, it really is a beautiful dress.” He complimented and it made your heart flutter for a moment to know that he liked it. No, you reminded yourself, you shouldn’t swoon over Thranduil – a widowed father – liking your little dress.

“It was expensive too…” You mumbled, “I don’t usually buy expensive clothes but this was just so pretty, I couldn’t put it back on the rack and I was skint for ages after buying it but I never really treat myself to stuff like this.” You sniffled as you did your utmost to stop your tears from spilling down your cheeks but you tasted defeat in their salt as they ran down to your chin and the corners of your mouth. Thranduil kneeled down in front of you and cupped your face in his hands, shushing you while affectionately swiping at your tears with his thumbs. You couldn’t help but melt into his touch and turn your face into his palm. He smelled like aftersun and some warm spice you couldn’t quite put a name to. Your lips just barely grazed against his hand and you fought the urge to press them to his skin over and over, settling for trying to steady your breathing instead.

While you were in turmoil, Thranduil was in his own. Here you were, such a sweet and beautiful little thing in tears with your lips against his skin as he knelt in front of where you were perched on the bed. If he could, he’d quell your tears with kisses and throw you back onto the bed and give you a reason to forget the ruined dress that you seemed to have treasured so much. But you were so much younger than him and should he make any sort of advance and you rejected it, everyone he was on this holiday with would be out for his blood. Your parents and brother would kill him and he was more than sure that his son wouldn’t like to find that he had tried to pursue a woman a year younger than him, his best friend’s little sister no less.

One of his hands on your face dropped to your knee, a safe enough place he thought: it could seem like he was keeping his balance while kneeling and it was not too far up your leg to be considered provocative. His thumb swiped once against your knee in the same way it had done beneath your eyes and he didn’t miss the way your thighs pressed together slightly. Arousal or recoil? He wasn’t sure and so he rose to his feet and withdrew from you entirely before he could possibly make you uncomfortable.

“Why don’t you get changed, hm?” He offered, “I’m sure that’s not comfortable to be in.” You nodded your head and got up to get changed in the privacy of the bathroom, pausing on the threshold of the door to announce that you would likely take a shower to wash off the stickiness from the juice. However, once you had stripped off your precious dress and started running the water, you realised that you had forgotten your hairbrush and so you wrapped yourself in a towel before going back into the room to grab it, finding Thranduil had been gazing out of the glass doors to the balcony before turning around to spot you. You suddenly felt very vulnerable and bare in just your towel and even Thranduil seemed surprised that you had left the bathroom in such a state of undress.

“Forgot my hairbrush…” You murmured, realising it might have even been better to put the stained dress back on just to grab it.

“I’ll see what I can do about your dress.” He replied and walked past you as you began to quickly brush out your hair. You could hear the tap run in the bathroom and when you had set the brush back down again, you stood awkwardly in the bathroom doorway as you watched Thranduil soak your dress in hot water to try and lift the stain before it could truly steele into the fabric.

“I really appreciate the help but I’d like to be able to…” You trailed off, almost feeling as though you were rejecting his generous help, just desperate for the hot water of the shower to wash away some of your sadness at having your dress near ruined.

“I won’t look.” He simply replied, turning his body at a slight angle so that he could continue working your dress in the sink while his back faced the shower. You were sure he wouldn’t be able to see you in the mirror, given the angle, and so you simply agreed with a quiet ‘alright then’ seeing as he had already turned around. You trusted Thranduil. The towel was set on the rack before you were under the steaming water, letting out a content sigh at the high temperature, beginning to wash your hair and then wash the stickiness of the orange juice from your skin. As you lathered your body in vanilla and honey scented bubbles, you couldn’t help but fantasise about the gorgeous man who stood no less than three metres from your naked form. He could so easily betray the trust you had placed in him, could gaze upon your exposed body, use the sight to spark lust. A part of you yearned for him to initiate something, to give you an excuse to just give into your desires if they were to be presented before you in such a ripe opportunity. Would he dare? You didn’t know how to provoke or seduce a man and so you found yourself improvising, against your better judgement. He was just so stunning and in fantasising about him, you had worked yourself up. You moaned at the feeling of the heated water against your skin, of the delectable scent of the soap on your body. You found yourself cupping your breasts in your hands as you rinsed yourself. Yet, Thranduil took no notice of you.

At least: he showed no signs of taking notice. His bright blue eyes were already stealing glimpses at you in the mirror, unable to see much due to the angle that he was standing at, fighting his impulses in an attempt to continue working at your dress as you showered behind him.

“Hey…” He heard your voice call out softly, “Do you think you could pass me the exfoliant on the counter? The beige tub with the white lid.” You asked and he found that his teeth were grinding slightly with how hard he had clenched his jaw. He found the item in question and stepped backwards, extending his arm backwards too in order to hand it to you.

“There you go.” He spoke, his voice slightly quieter but neutral, cleverly balanced out as to not betray a word of what was going on inside his head.

“Thank you.” Your voice had softened, was slightly airy as you took the tub from his waiting palm, your fingertips gliding against his wrist and down over his palm, your fingers almost wrapping around his as you savoured the small skin-on-skin contact. You might have been under the impression that the gesture would seem innocent enough, fumbling or clumsy even, but Thranduil knew much more than you, it came with his age.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” His voice cut through the silence that was beginning to grow thick like the steam in the room.

“I-I’m sorry?” You stammered out, face instantly flushing at having been caught. Thranduil looked just slightly over his shoulder, his eye meeting yours from the very corner and wandering nowhere else on your exposed body. In your eyes he saw your naivete and yet he also saw a mix of fear and embarrassment at having been caught. You had been teasing him intentionally and the look on your face was all he needed to confirm such.

“Get out of the shower, Y/n.” His tone was quiet and yet no less authoritative than the voice you had heard him speak with over business calls. You swallowed hard and turned off the water, now feeling much more bashful and attempting to cover your bare chest with your arms. Thranduil took down the towel from the rack, warm, and wrapped it around your body, hands squeezing your shoulders momentarily before you gasped when his hands landed on your waist and hoisted you onto the counter. His hands gently patted you down, keeping you covered with the towel and you watched him do so with bated breath.

His fingers skimmed over your thighs, just above your knees where your towel didn’t cover them and he let out a soft sigh, pale blue eyes roving up to meet your gaze.

“Do you want this?” He asked and you swallowed hard. He didn’t need to elaborate on what it was he was offering. You nodded your head, eyes stealing a glance down to his lips. “I need to hear you say it, sweetheart.”

“I want this…” Your voice was airy with a sense of excitement and anxiousness. His fingers trailed up your body until they were beneath your chin, tilting your head upwards and leaning in oh-so-slowly with lidded eyes, providing you with ample time to pull away should you realise that you did not want this. However, your hands came to rest on his shoulders, fingers skimming against his neck as your lips collided. He felt you shudder against him as you arched your back and leaned into him, your body silently pleading for more contact as your fingers slid upwards and into his hair. You couldn’t help but let out a soft moan at discovering it felt just as soft as it looked. Thranduil’s hand under your chin slid to cup your cheek and his other hand slid down to squeeze at your hip. The kiss grew more heated and you felt light-headed as you tried to keep up with Thranduil’s pace, relieved when his lips began to trail down your neck, drawing soft sighs and moans from your lips that he fully intended on leaving kiss-swollen when he was done with you.

“Have you done anything like this before?” His voice had dropped as he hummed out the question against your pulse.

“I have…�� You replied quietly and Thranduil seemed slightly surprised. Truthfully, he had been unsure but a part of him was almost so sure that you were a virgin. “He… put me off, I suppose. It ended up being a one-time thing.” Your face flooded with heat and you couldn’t meet Thranduil’s eyes as he looked at you thoughtfully.

“A boy your age?” He was met with a nod.

“He was… selfish, I suppose is the word for it.” You heard the man before you tut as his arms wrapped around you and his lips languidly peppered kisses from your temple, across the softness of your cheek and to your lips.

“I’m going to assume it was over before it could even begin for you and he left you unsatisfied.” He punctuated his prediction with a slow kiss to your mouth, nibbling your bottom lip.

“Yeah…” You breathed out as you felt him push your thighs apart so that he could slot himself between your legs and pull you even closer.

“Would you like me to show you real pleasure then, y/n? Pleasure given from a man who knows a woman’s body?” He was met with an eager nod.

“Yes please…” Oh, how well-mannered and adorable you were. He couldn’t resist crashing his lips onto yours once more and you felt him untuck your towel as he kissed you dizzy. You gasped when his hands cupped your breasts and he pulled away from your lips.

“Is this ok?” You eagerly nodded your head and your hands gripped the collar of his shirt to pull him back into the kiss, thighs squeezing your hips as you yearned to keep the closeness between you two. He smiled at your eagerness and relished in all the little moans you let out as he palmed your soft flesh and began to tweak your nipples between his fingers, testing how much you could take before letting out a little yelp into his mouth, allowing him to slip his tongue inside and to coax you into a deeper kiss. Once more, his lips trailed down your neck and then even further down to the top of your left breast, pausing along the way to nip at your collarbone. His tongue poked out to lap at your damp skin before encasing one of your hardened buds in the warmth of his mouth and sucking down gently, earning a drawn-out moan from your throat while his hand paid attention to your other breast, assuring that it was not neglected.

He could gather from your reactions that this was not something you had experienced before and he couldn’t help but think on how undeserving that body must have been to have had such a pretty, responsive girl in his grasp and to still ignore her needs entirely.

“Thranduil…” You whimpered out his name when he switched breasts and you could feel him groan against your sensitive skin before he wrapped his hands under your thighs and hoisted you upwards, making you gasp and steady yourself with your hands on his shoulders. He carried you out of the bathroom and sat down on the bed with you in his lap, not wanting to potentially overwhelm you by putting you under him just yet. His fingers skimmed up your bare back and then went down to your hips, holding them firmly and lightly coaxing you to grind down on him as you were now straddling his lap. You could feel him gently roll his hips against you, creating such sweet friction. You buried your face against his shoulder to muffle the sounds of how good he was making you feel.

“I bet he didn’t focus on you at all, did he, y/n?” Thranduil’s voice cooed in your ear, dripping with a tone that just reminded you how naive you were than him in this. You simply clutched onto his shirt and shook your head, puffing out a content sigh as your clit caught against the material of his trousers. “I bet he didn’t even know how.” He continued, a hand reaching upwards to carefully stroke through your wet hair. “Would you like me to show you?”

“Yes please.” You murmured once more, face leaving the crook of his neck to tentatively kiss the corner of his mouth.

“Alright…” And he shifted you around so that you were laid back on the bed with your head against the pillows, his body hovering over yours, “But I have just one request for you, to make us both feel good, hm?” He suggested, fingers trailing up and down your side, tickling you slightly and causing goosebumps to erupt across your skin. You nodded your head for him to continue, feeling his palms on your thighs, parting them slightly. “I’m older than you… more experienced… I want to take such good care of you…” He continued, leaning down to kiss you so tenderly, as though you were cracked glass or thin ice that was ready to shatter at the slightest pressure. “Why don’t you call me daddy, hm?”

“I…” You bit on your lip. You were aware of daddy kinks, sure, but were you into it? You had never put much thought to it.

“It’s alright if you don’t want to…” He said softly, hands roaming your body up and down as though trying to memorise the shape of you.

“No, it’s not that, I just… I don’t know if I’m into it, I suppose? I’ve never really thought about it.” You shivered slightly when his fingers skimmed between your hips, across your abdomen in a way that was pleasurable but also rather ticklish, watching as his eyes flicked up to meet yours in order to assess your reaction.

“How about this then:” He proposed, “I’ll tell you when to moan for me and we’ll see if you like it then, while I’m making you feel good, hm?” You thought over his suggestion for a moment before nodding your head, watching as he smiled before pressing a kiss to your navel. “Good girl.” He praised, “Spread your legs further for me.” You did as told and he kissed a trail down your skin until his hot breath was fanning against your pussy, finding you glistening with need already, dripping from your slit. “I’m going to use my mouth on you now, is that alright?” His lips pressed to your inner thighs in the meantime.

“Yes, it’s alright…” You mumbled out, bringing a hand up to press to your mouth in anticipation, your breath hitching and your fingers muffling a long moan when his tongue delved straight into your slit and pushed all the way up to your clit that he began to kiss and suck with such devotion. Your head fell back against the pillows and the hand against your mouth fell beside your head, gripping the plush fabric beneath it as Thranduil hoisted your thighs up on his shoulders and began dipping his tongue in and out of your walls. He kissed his way back up your slit before pausing, exhaling over you and drowning in the scent of your arousal.

“Moan for me now.” He commanded just before sucking down harshly on your clit the moment you opened your mouth.

“Da-addy~” Your voice broke and your hands shot down to tangle in his pale hair at the unexpected pleasure as you felt your thighs tense up and the beginnings of an orgasm rush over your limbs before crashing to your core where Thranduil held your hips down as he eased you through it, the first orgasm you had ever been given by another. He kissed your clit one final time, almost a farewell, before rising back up, chin glistening with your slick.

“There…” His thumb caressed your cheek and he watched how your body slightly trembled, “Did you enjoy it in the end?” There was a tone of amusement in his voice that told you he already knew the answer.

“Yes…” You breathed out.

“Yes, who?” He hummed and you let out a low whine.

“Yes, daddy.” You were rewarded with a kiss where you could taste yourself and you were much too aroused to have any disgust towards such a thing.

“Normally, I’d spend a lot more time on such a pretty thing like you, sweetheart…” He said, “But I don’t want to give you more than you can handle.” You moaned once more when his fingers prodded at your entrance, slipping one inside experimentally before quickly adding another. He stroked over that sweet spot inside you that had you whimpering beneath him, moaning out broken little phrases of ‘yes’ ‘please, daddy’ ‘more’ ‘just like that, daddy’ ‘please’ ‘so good’. Each one had him feeling much too hot and constricted in his clothes as he slowly fingered you, scissoring his fingers apart to feel how your walls had to stretch around them, trying to prepare you for the size of his cock. Eventually, he withdrew his fingers from your squelching hole and got to impatiently stripping off his shirt, rising to remove the rest of his clothing before he was practically diving on top of you once again, cock in his hand. You watched as he stroked himself in front of you, pressing the flushed and weeping head of his cock against the heat of your soaked slit. He reached for your legs and you let out a small grunt as he pushed them upwards, almost pressed to your chest.

“Hold them there for daddy…” He watched in adoration of your obedience as you immediately complied, “Such a good girl…” He resumed stroking his cock before lining it up to your entrance, sliding the tip of his cock up and down slightly over your entrance before pushing in deep. Arousal pooled within him at the yelped moan you let out and his hands squeezed your hips for a moment before he pushed the rest of the way in, revelling in the way you whined at the stretch of his cock in your tight walls. “Fuck, I know you’re going to take me so well…” Your cunt clenched around him at hearing him curse like that. You had never heard Thranduil curse, he always seemed much too refined for it and yet here that eloquence was, bleeding out of him all because of how inviting your pussy felt squeezing and fluttering around his cock. He couldn’t risk making a mess here in the hotel room that your family would return to later on in the night so he planned on making this part quick. He could always pamper you a bit and bring you back to his own room after.

A surge of pride filled him when his slow and harsh pace, each thrust kissing the deepest parts of you, had you quickly babbling at how good his cock felt inside of you. You had previously been unsure of how you felt about calling him daddy and yet here you were wantonly moaning it like it was the only word you knew.

“This is exactly what you’ve been missing out on, isn’t it?” He asked, leaning down by you so that he could press your legs even more, folding you into a mating press as his thrusts began to drill down into you, the head of his cock bittersweetly bullying your cervix with each thrust. “Having an older man who knows exactly what you need… an older man who knows your sweet- fuck- young body in ways that boys your age don’t.” His dirty talk had your nails raking down your back and high pitched moans squeezing from your throat, “That’s why you didn’t turn me down like all the other boys who you knew just wanted to use you.” He let out a guttural moan by your ear that almost turned into a whine when the sound made your body clench further down him. “Do you want to come again, y/n?” You quickly nodded your head, scrunching your eyes for a moment to try and quell the tears that were building in them. “Then ask for it, ask your daddy if he’ll make you come.”

“Daddy, please, please, can I come?” You pleaded. “Make me come again, please?”

“Oh, well, seeing as you asked so nicely.” You cried out when his thumb began to draw circles on your throbbing clit and you buried your face in his neck as your nails curled into his skin, muffling your sob as your thighs wrapped around him, tiny cunt spasming around his thick cock. Just as quickly as you had tensed up, you went limp and Thranduil used the opportunity to pry your legs from him and kneel over your body, stroking his cock with lewd noises made by your slick as he spilled his hot cum over your bare chest, making him moan at the sight. He laid down beside you and watched as you panted for breath.

Thranduil propped himself up on an elbow to lean over you, tenderly pushing wet hair away from your face and kissing from your temple, down your cheek, to the corner of your jaw. “You did so well, sweetheart…” He praised, “I’m so proud of you.” He punctuated his words with a kiss yet watched on as you still panted for breath, not yet down from your high. “Come,” He cupped your face to gently turn your head to face him, pressing his forehead to yours, “breathe with me now…” And he began to take in deep breaths, hold them and slowly let them out until your body had calmed right down and you turned onto your side and buried your face in his chest, caring very little about how his hair was tickling your face.

“I feel much happier now.” You laughed slightly, making him laugh too as he reflected on how you had been sobbing over your dress earlier.

“I’m glad to hear it.” He kissed the top of your head and smoothed your hair back affectionately. “I… I would much prefer this be kept a secret- '' He began, “-not because I only used you, no, I wouldn’t do that to you, but because I don't think our families would be all too happy. If you want to tell anyone what’s happened between the two of us, I understand but if we want to do this again, it might be best if we… see where things go before we tell anyone. This is just my suggestion but I leave the final decision down to you. I won’t tell you what to do.” You hummed and began to trace idle patterns on his skin with your fingertips.

“You would… do this again with me?” You highlighted.

“More times than you could possibly count, my sweet.” He replied with a slight laugh.

“I… would like to keep this between us while I see how things go then.”

“Very well…” He kissed the top of your head once more, “Let’s stay like this for a while then we can have a shower together, how does that sound?”

“Wonderful…” You hummed.

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sluttyminghao · 2 years

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kinktober drabble one pairing: incubus!vernon x afab!reader w.c: 1.5k rating: 18+ minors dni - heavy smut warnings: vernon is an incubus so...if ur not into that don't read, bulge kink, pet names (sweetheart, baby), restraint, rough sex, reader blacks out for a couple minutes, dirty talk a/n: the first kinktober drabble is out! now this isn't a topic I would normally write about, so I'm open to feedback and criticisms going forward !! i hope you love it!'

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“Have you missed me?”

You can hear his soft voice beginning to filter into your unconscious mind, your heart thumping faster at the dulcet tone bouncing around your thoughts. Your body moves on its own, attempting to locate where his voice was coming from. You feel a smile form on your face when he steps into your view, a small smirk appearing on his features.

He looks so stunning; his dark velvet suit is hugging his body in all the right places, and you can see that he’s not wearing an undershirt. His silver hair is swept up and to the side, and his eye makeup is looking perfect as always. Why did the demon who appeared in your dreams always have to be so gorgeous?

“Of course, I have,” you sigh out, a pang of guilt flashing through your body. It had been a while since you had met with Vernon like this, but now that you finally had a little more free time up your sleeve, it meant that you could summon him to be with you more frequently. Just the thought of it alone had your cunt clenching around nothing.

“You should’ve come to visit me,” he pouts briefly, before returning to his normal demeanour. He walks over to where you’re stretched out on the bed and leans down so his nose is brushing against yours. Despite the dim room lighting, you can see his eyes grow from a warm shade of brown to almost black.

“I’m sorry, I’ve just been so busy and-” your argument is cut off by Vernon pressing his plush lips to yours. His lips taste like cherry chapstick and the faintest hint of red wine and it makes you lightheaded in the best way possible. When he pulls away, he admires the sight of your lips beginning to swell and turn red, and you watch as his fingers begin working at undoing the buttons on his vest.

“Been too busy to see me? Gosh, sweetheart, you’re in for a night of fun then, aren’t you?” He removes his vest and pants and lays them neatly at the foot of the bed. He smirks and climbs between your legs, letting his cool fingertips glide up and down the skin of your thighs. A small smirk appears on his lips when he notices the goosebumps on your skin from where he had trailed his fingers and looks back up at you with a bigger smirk.

“Have you touched yourself since you’ve last seen me?” He queries, his fingers hooking into your sleep shorts and underwear and tugging them down your body. You lift yourself to help remove them from your body, leaving you only in a flimsy pyjama top. You glimpse up at him guiltily, and without a word being exchanged between either of you, he knows.

“You should know better, baby. But, I won’t punish you because I’ve missed you too much,” he mumbles, slipping his hands under your shirt and teasing your nipples. His cool fingers cause your back to arch up, but you’re quickly pushed back onto the mattress and your shirt flipped up to expose your breasts.

“Please…touch me, Vernon,” you whine out, your fingers snaking their way down your body and getting dangerously close to your cunt. You glance up at the demon above you and feel your cunt throb when you notice his eyes begin to burn amber, and his hands are balling up into fists. Immediately, he is grabbing your hand and pins it above your head and grabs your other hand to bring it up so both wrists are pinned down. He smirks and leans his body against yours, and you can feel his bulge poking against your thigh.

“I am touching you, sweetheart, you might want to be more specific,” he whispers teasingly, eyes upturning slightly as he watches you squirm. You frown and lift your hips up to connect with his and grind lightly, watching his eyes widen and feeling his grip on your wrists tighten.

“Is that specific enough for you?” You spit back and immediately regret it once you notice his eyes have shifted colour from amber to bright red, and his eyebrows are furrowed. You halt your actions and gulp, only having seen that look once prior and you were in for a long night afterwards.

At this rate, you were fucked.

Without a word, Vernon rips your shirt in half, much to your surprise, and moves his cool fingers downwards to your clit, rubbing harsh circles. You gasp out in shock at his sheer strength and the way his fingers feel on you before it’s pulled away just as quickly and you’re left clenching around nothing.

And then he’s laughing. Laughing while removing his boxers and letting his cock spring up and hit his stomach. He holds out 3 of his fingers to you and you take them into your mouth greedily, sucking and licking around the digits while he bites his lip to hold back a moan. When he pulls them out of your mouth, he wraps them around his leaking cock and pumps slowly, lubricating himself to prepare for you.

Your heartbeat couldn't be any quicker if you wanted it to, and you’re sure Vernon can hear it. He moves into position above you and lets his cock tease through your folds, bumping against your clit and forcing your back to arch up again. Vernon’s hand goes back to gripping your wrists, a grin appearing on his features.

“I hope you’re ready,” he grits out, finally entering you and holding back a moan as he does so. You writhe under his touch, feeling him bottom out before quickly starting a rough and hard pace. He doesn’t show any mercy either, his cock hitting the spot inside you that has you seeing stars.

“Oh fuck…” Vernon slows down briefly and your eyes open slowly to see him eyeing your stomach with now almost black eyes. Curiosity piques and you shift your head up so you can see what’s taken his interest, and your eyes widen at the sight.

His cock is buried deep inside you, and you can see the outline of his cock under the skin. He runs one of his hands over the bulge and shudders before he’s pulling almost all the way out of you before slamming himself in again and quickening his pace. Your eyes are rolling back into your head and your hands are weakly attempting to escape his grasp.

“V-Vernon…wait…can I run my hands over your bulge?” The question immediately makes his cock twitch and he lets go of your wrists while nodding quickly, stilling his hips so you can run your hands over the prominent bulge under your skin.

Your hand brushes over the bulge and you observe as Vernon’s shoulders tense up and his eyes blacken once more. In an attempt to tease him, you squeeze the bulge and immediately regret it. His head snaps up and his eyes burn into your own, and you’re worried about what he’s going to do next.

“Oh sweetheart, you’re in for the ride of your life,” he utters through gritted teeth, his hands pinning your wrists to the mattress once more and readjusting himself so that he’s now hitting inside you at a different angle. Your hips have been moved up slightly and he’s now fucking into you so hard and deep that he has you cumming within only seconds.

Your vision turns white as you cum, and you can only slightly hear Vernon trying to bring you back. Once you blink and feel yourself returning back to your body, his features begin not looking as fuzzy. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and caresses your cheek before he gets to work cleaning you up.

“Did you cum?” You ask, voice hoarse. He simply looks up at you and nods with a grin, before pointing down at your chest. You look down to see his cum splattered over your tits and stomach, your cheeks burning at the sight. He takes a wipe and gently removes the cum and sweat from your body, a complete 180 from how he was only moments prior.

You sigh sleepily and snuggle into the covers, eyes watching Vernon like a hawk as he redresses himself. He turns around and presses a kiss on your forehead, smiling softly at your now sleeping form and covers the rest of your body with the blanket to ensure you won’t get cold.

“I’ll see you again soon, sweetheart.”

-------

The following morning you wake up and your mind is foggy and your body aching. You don’t have much recall of the night, but upon lifting the blankets you can see red marks left along your hips and your panties are soaked through. You smile and snuggle back into the covers, hoping for more dreams where Vernon is involved.

taglist: @uservernon, @crushonwoo, @noniestars, @lovercheol, @enhacolor, @ruefulposts, @bamchanbin, @yeritheloml, @panda0329, @milkyruins, @hansolaria, @woozis-wife, @drawxler, @cheolsbestie

#sluttyhao kinktober #vernon smut #vernon scenario #seventeen smut #seventeen scenario #kpop smut #kpop scenario #kpop imagine #seventeen imagine #seventeen reaction

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likesunsetorange · 3 months

Text

cowboy x model au drabble # 2

for @juloved who i very much adore!

and if you didn’t see her art she’s done inspired by the bodyguard au & cowboy eren, check them out! she’s so talented!

but i promise back to bodyguard au shenanigans after this, first upload hopefully this weekend (and e2l soon too)! but we can still have fun with the cowboy au still if yall would like haha

The scene before Eren had him questioning whether or not the last hour of his life had been the result of some sort of apparition his mind had conjured, or if this was truly reality. Either option wouldn’t necessarily be terrible, but he would feel particularly slighted by his subconscious if it had played a trick as cruel as this.

He watched from his bedroom door frame as Mikasa sat on his bed, none the wiser of his presence, dressed in his sweatshirt and sweats, his clothes too big for her, causing her to have to roll up the sleeves; her hair wrapped in a fluffy blue towel, a few long stray pieces too stubborn to stay tucked in; and her feet tucked into her as she tugged on the pair of socks he had left out for her.

A smile lit across Eren’s face, feeling like it was all too good to be true—he really thought he had missed out on his opportunity. He had already cut his losses short, kicking himself internally and deeming this as something he would regret for the rest of his life. Never had he found himself so immediately transfixed on a woman before, and leave it to him to let her slip away without doing as much as asking for her number.

Eren had spent days scrolling through her Instagram, wondering what he could to contact her, but his mind drew up blank, so he concluded he’d just have to watch her from afar and hope maybe one day they’d cross paths again. He had even had Gabi teach him how to turn on someone’s post notifications, finding himself watching every little story update, his face beaming no matter how trivial they may have been—from mandatory brand posts, to pictures of her meals, and if he was particularly lucky, a picture of Mikasa. (A few he couldn’t help but screenshotting for his own personal keeping.)

He almost felt like this was a dream and he was dreading the moment he would wake up. Of all the things or people he expected to see at his front door, Mikasa wasn’t one of them. But it was the best surprise, given an insane surprise, he could’ve ever asked for.

She looked so perfectly out of place here in his home, but at the same time, she was like a missing puzzle piece Eren never knew he needed to be searching for. Mikasa was a stark contrast to the vintage decor that had been there for ages and slow and steady feel of his, with her modern day beauty and bold personality, but it made him want to keep her around all the more.

Finally done with his admiring, Eren knocked on the door frame, before walking in. “Hey, you,” he said flashing her a smile, once he reached where she sat on the bed. “I made us tea, and I’m gonna take a lucky guess and say you haven’t eaten either, huh?”

She looked up to meet his gaze, her face radiating in a way that made Eren’s heart skip a few beats. “Oh, hi—I didn’t see you,” her cheeks flushing red. “But you wouldn’t necessarily be wrong, haven’t eaten since this morning, I was… preoccupied,” she admitted guiltily.

“Running in the pouring rain… Not eating… What am I gonna do with you?” Eren said as he helped her to her feet, where Mikasa was finally able to take in his appearance, scanning him up and down before her face puffed up, almost into a pout, completely ignoring his previous sentiment.

“You changed,” she said while pointing to his sweatshirt and sweats, similar to the ones he had given her.

“You got my clothes all wet, was I just supposed to leave them on?”

Mikasa opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something, but quickly shut it, her face turning redder than it had already been. “Well—how about that tea?”

Eren eyed her quizzically, unsure of what to make out of her statement before the realization struck him. “Are you upset I changed?” He asked, his smile wide. Eren found how flustered she was at admitting her attraction to be cute—not even just for the slight confidence boost it gave him, but because she could show up on his doorstep unannounced, but not admit her attraction with her words.

“What? No,” she protested, crossing her arms.

“I think it’s very cute that you come all this way, and do these bold little things, just to get all shy on me now. You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

Embarrassment seemed to be an understatement the way Mikasa’s face was flushed red and she was unable to hold eye contact with Eren. He couldn’t help but admire her and all her endearing little traits, Mikasa Ackerman was like a drug, he’d gotten his first taste and he feared he’d never be able to go without a constant fix now.

“Well you didn’t ask for my number—what was I supposed to do?”

“Like I said earlier, calling wasn’t an option?” He asked, referring to the mention of their earlier discussion of the topic.

“What if you thought I was weird or something? Or what if—” Her question interrupted by Eren’s lips pressing against hers.

This time, without the outside elements and wavering sense of fear there to interrupt them, Eren had all the time in the world to take in the moment. He walked them back towards the bed, setting Mikasa on his lap, never once breaking apart from her. With time on his side, he could enjoy the softness of her lips against his, bask in the sweetest sounds that came in the form of her light giggles in between stolen kisses, the way her skin felt underneath his fingers now that he had the chance to properly explore every inch of her skin.

Mikasa felt better than the nicotine fix he needed every so often—Eren might never need to smoke another cigarette again as long as Mikasa was in his life.

When he finally pulled away, he couldn’t hold back the grin he wore on his face. “I wouldn’t have thought you were weird, I would’ve been happy you called because I was trying to figure out how to call you myself.”

“You were?” Mikasa asked, her voice shy. She tucked her head into his shoulder, too nervous to meet his gaze.

“I would’ve been happy if you called, too, instead of walking a quarter mile in the rain, but I think I realize you’re a little too strong willed to be strayed otherwise,” he said, chuckling.

Mikasa took her out from his shoulder, furrowing her brows while she looked at him, releasing a huff, “Well if you would’ve just—”

Eren pressed another kiss to her lips, prompting her to stop talking, “I think we’ll argue about this forever, so let’s just drop it, okay?”

Mikasa rolled her eyes, but the faintest hint of a smile gave way to her lack of annoyance. “Whatever you say.”

“I think we can both agree that it wasn’t smart to run in the rain though—I can’t do all the things I wanted to do with you if you end up sick.”

Mikasa stood up, helping Eren to his feet so they could head downstairs. “I think you worry too much, I’ll be fi—” Her sentence cut off by a series of sneezes.

Eren shook his head, releasing a sigh. “What am I gonna do with you?”

#cowboy x model au #vic’s drabbles #eremika #they’re so sickeningly sweet they are sweet tea on a sunny day i am giggling

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chogiwow · 10 months

Text

the interview with the exes | lee minho

lee know x reader | 1.6k+ | series masterlist

the studio is a small white room. there are two seats in the middle of it. there’s minimal lighting in the room. the crew stands in silence, watching the interview unfold.

two people enter, cautiously nodding at each other and take a seat.

and so, the interview with your ex begins as the camera starts rolling.

[interviewer: hello, you’re the second couple today we’re going to interview, are you guys ready?]

minho: [nods slowly]

y/n: [smiles at the camera before nodding]

[interviewer: can you guys introduce yourselves while looking at the camera and state your relation?]

minho: [waving at the camera] hi, i’m lee minho. i’m y/n’s ex.

y/n: i’m l/n y/n…uh, his ex.

[they catch each other’s eyes, immediately looking away. the studio already feels awkward]

[interviewer: how did you guys first meet?]

y/n: we were actually–

minho: [at the same time] we had–

[another awkward glance passes between them]

minho: you go first

y/n: oh umm, we met on a blind date.

minho: [chuckling ]we were both forced to actually

y/n: you’re right haha, i remember you almost stood me up

minho: yeah, but then it started raining and i felt bad for making you wait

y/n: [relaxing their shoulders with a smile] always a gentleman

minho:

y/n: …

[interviewer: did you two hit it off instantly?]

y/n: ….

minho: well, isn’t this awkward…

y/n: [hesitantly] minho was…let’s just say, he wasn’t the best at being not-so-blunt

minho: [nodding his solemnly] fair enough, which is why i see no point in beating about the bush. i was having a hard couple of days and my friend had set me up on a blind date without asking me…now that i think about it, i guess i had been a bit too rude.

y/n: he did turn up to the date, drenched in the rain. i was about to leave, and honestly i should have been mad at him but seeing as how he had still made it, especially dripping like a soaked cat…it was cute. i guess.

y/n: but then he yelled at me

minho:

y/n: we got off the wrong foot, because somehow a stranger’s words, for whatever reason, had actually hurt me? [confused]

minho: y-yeah, that…

[another strained silence passes between the two. minho casts furtive glances at y/n, but they keep staring at the floor]

[interviewer: so how did you two start dating?]

minho: do we…do we have to answer these?

y/n: i don’t mind answering, if you’d rather not say

minho: [glancing at y/n guiltily. y/n looks away from him]

minho: [sighing] no. it’s my story to tell as much as yours.

y/n: we had this…cat and mouse kind of a relationship. i don’t know, i never take offence to what people have to say about me, but i guess when he yelled at me for still waiting for him to turn up for a blind date, i was upset?

minho: how many times do i need to apologise for that?

y/n: [sighing at their hands in their lap] you still don’t get it, do you?

minho: …

y/n: anyway…he must have felt bad about it all, but if you know lee minho as i do, you’d know he’s not one to apologise outright. we fought a lot, even before we started dating…

minho: i’m not sure if i was right to assume that they were just friendly bickering anymore.

y/n: before? or after?

minho: …before

y/n: oh. no, those didn’t hurt me. you and me and everyone around us seemed to know that we were just flirting.

minho: good.

y/n: …

y/n: we were always teasing each other

minho: uh huh, it was fun to get on each other’s nerves [chuckles]

y/n: [grinning] true. it did make us closer.

minho: …

y/n: i suppose i really was delusional.

minho: [coughs into his hand]

[interviewer: i think it would be safe to assume you had been frenemies at one point? and that eventually led to dating?]

y/n: [shaking their head] not entirely. it was the reason we dated, but the intentions were not entirely similar.

minho: [clearing his throat] they asked me out first and…

y/n: and he accepted out of pity.

minho: y/n…

y/n: because he never liked me that way.

minho: i did like you. just not romantically.

[interviewer: hold on, i thought you two dated?]

minho: we did

y/n: yes. he was gracious enough to do that.

minho: how are you still hung up on this? it’s been a year already, why can’t you just believe me that i did like you?

y/n: after we broke up? because you lied to me for six months and kissed me out of pity–

minho: i did not kiss you out of pity–

[a sob resounds in the studio. someone hands y/n a tissue to wipe their cheeks. minho stops talking and looks down at his feet in silence.]

minho: i didn’t want you to feel bad.

y/n: [sniffling] and you thought the best way to do that was to pretend to like me?

minho: i felt like i had to do it, especially after…after everything i had put you through. people always told me that you only pretended to not care about my teasing. i thought i genuinely hurt you with my words.

y/n: …

y/n: that was a shitty move on your part.

[interviewer, to y/n: how do you feel about this now?]

y/n: [waving their hands with a breathy chuckle] obviously i don’t seem to be over it.

[interviewer turns to minho, gesturing him to answer the same question]

minho: i’m sorry. that’s all i have to say about this. but y/n [he swivels his chair to face them], i never meant to hurt you and what i said was…is true.

[interviewer: how did you two break up?]

minho: honestly, i thought that was clear enough by now.

y/n: he told me. it was a stupid fight, something to do with his cats. one thing led to another and…he just confessed.

minho: [biting his lips, running a hand through his hair]

y/n: it was messed up, i thought i was an idiot to have gone through all that. now…i don’t even know why i liked him in the first place.

[the camera pans into minho’s face. he blinks slowly at the ground, then looks over to where y/n is sitting.]

y/n: it explained why he was so…detached all the time. i thought he just wanted his personal space respected, i didn’t know i was a living a fantasy all by myself.

y/n: [turning to look at minho] did you…even for a second, like me at all in those six months?

minho: i did. i’m not sure when i started having genuine feelings for you, but the reason i told you was because i didn’t want to be confused with what i was feeling and what i should have been feeling.

minho: it was all muddled up in my head. i just…didn’t know that losing you would be the way i realised it.

y/n: you should hate me for putting you through all that

minho: you should hate me for being a dick

y/n: …

[interviewer: do you regret dating?]

y/n: [shaking their head] i can’t say i do. even though it might have all been a lie, i…i couldn’t hate him in the end for it. it does hurt me, but i’m still touched that he’d do that for me. it was twisted but…[shrugs]

minho: i regret not being sincere about it. but the time i spent with them is precious to me, even now. it’s made me realise a lot of things, their value and…i wish i could say more about this, but i feel like i don’t deserve to answer this question.

[both of them refuse to say any more on this matter]

[interviewer: do you think you would give this another try?]

minho: …

y/n: …

minho: would it be too hopeful of me to say yes?

y/n: [looking at him warily] you know you don’t mean that…

minho: how would you know?

y/n: and how would you? wouldn’t it be the same thing all over again, just your guilt eating you up?

minho: would it help if i said i missed you?

[minho is looking at y/n, the camera fails to capture his expression though]

y/n: [looking away from him with a shake of their head] no. i don’t think so.

y/n: i don’t think i will be able to.

[interviewer: that’s a wrap for today. thank you both, for agreeing to do this interview. we wish you the best for the future.]

the crew dissipates with a sombre sigh, murmuring amongst themselves. someone hands y/n another tissue.

minho: [handing them a bottle of water after unscrewing it] i’m sorry you had to go through that.

y/n: actually, i’m glad we did this. we never really had closure. i think i needed this.

minho: [carefully] is what you said final?

y/n: …

y/n: i don’t think i’ve ever see you tear up like you did before, i almost feel bad…but you have to understand, i’m just looking out for myself now.

minho: [nodding, opening his mouth to say something but you’ve already turned your back on him]

y/n: good luck minho.

the camera catches minho letting his hands fall limply by his side, a defeated smile on his face, unable to ask for the hug he had gathered his courage to ask you for. the last shot is of him staring at your back before it’s shut down.

#behold the pain is back hehe :>#stray kids imagines #lee know imagines #stray kids minho imagines #minho stray kids imagines #stray kids lee know imagines #lee know stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids angst

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senorabond · 6 months

Text

Rumor Has It: Chapter 6 Peña x f!reader x Pike

Pairings: Javier Peña x f!reader; Marcus Pike x f!reader; future Peña x f!reader x Pike

Chapter 6 Summary: Javier meets you at the office the next day to help you with the big briefing, then shows you a different side of Houston.

Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI), Explicit sexual content, additional warnings may be added for future chapters

Chapter Warnings: no use of y/n, previous relationship (Marcus x f!Reader), slowburn, workplace romance, fantasizing, masturbation (m), ohh the yearning

Reader/Character notes: Reader is fem!afab; No mention of Reader’s body size, shape, composition, or skin color.

Words: 5.6k

Author’s Note: I am having so much fun with this story and can’t wait to share more of it with you. I have a LOT more in store for you all. Muchos besos para mi beta @kilamonster!!! Thank you for reading multiple versions of this and being my Spanish tutor! 💋💜

Series Masterlist || Previous Chapter

Texas The Next Day

You hate to admit it, but the most difficult part of your day so far was figuring out what the hell to wear. You’d be working at the office with somebody who was your superior on the case, but on a Sunday and outside the social confines of a regular workday. Your usual work attire would be too formal, but you don’t want to swing too far in the other direction and show up looking sloppy.

Playing it safe, you choose a pair of leggings for comfort but pair it with a smart tunic-length top with a hem that floats around your hips. A pair of simple studs adorn your lobes, and your hair is swept back from your face and off your neck in a utilitarian style. With just a minimal touch of makeup, you feel like your armor is complete. You might wear the same outfit out to dinner with a friend – if you had any here.

You arrive at the office a whole two hours before you and Peña had agreed to meet. You’d already been up and working on the briefing since six that morning anyway and were just getting antsier the longer you worked at home. At least you could prepare the briefing room before Javier shows up and would feel ready to jump right in.

You greet the weekend security guards and make your way up to the conference room. The normally bustling halls and work spaces are eerily quiet and only half of the overhead lights are on. Once in the shared meeting space, you begin to unpack your box of files and hook your laptop up to the audiovisual setup.

It feels like only a short time has passed when you hear a knock at the door and Javi is standing there holding a paper box, presumably with more files. You check your watch and see that it’s still a half hour before your meeting time.

“You’re early.” You stand up and Javi walks in, setting the cardboard box on the table.

“So are you,” he counters. “How long have you been here?”

“Umm…” you glance a bit guiltily at the clock on the wall. Javi cocks his head and sets his jaw sternly, but his eyes are playful.

“That’s what I thought.” From the box, he pulls out a cardboard drinks holder with two large coffees, an assortment of creamer and sweetener packets, and another paper bag. “Bagels. Wasn’t sure what you like, so there’s a mix.”

Your stomach growls in loud appreciation and you blush a bit. In your eagerness to get to the office you skipped breakfast. You decide on a cinnamon raisin bagel and begin slathering it with a hearty amount of cream cheese.

“Thanks, you didn’t have to.” The first bite is carb heaven.

“And you didn’t have to agree to this briefing.” Javi grabs a sesame bagel for himself and takes a small sip of coffee.

“Well,” you pause to swallow. “You asked me to.”

“And you could have said no.” Javi shrugs off his leather jacket – the same one he wore to the bar the other night – and drapes it over the back of a chair across the table from you. The faint scent of tobacco and citrus and spice floats your way.

Without his usual suit on, the broadness of his shoulders is even more accentuated by his choice of casual wear. He’s wearing a short-sleeved blue button-down shirt tucked into a pair of slim-fitting dark-wash jeans, black leather belt cinched with a plain buckle. You caught a peek of the leather boots he’s got on and wonder how you didn’t hear him walking down the hall.

“Something wrong?” Javi has an eyebrow lifted.

You realize you’ve been staring and try to recover somehow. “Nothing,” you gesture at your own clothes. “I just feel a bit overdressed.”

Javi smirks and lets his eyes rake over you, taking your statement as an invitation to look. “I think you look great.”

Thankful again for the bagel, you rip off a large piece and shove it into your mouth to avoid having to say anything in response. You gesture to the cardboard box and mumble around the bread in your mouth. “What else did you bring?”

Brushing crumbs off his hands, Javi reaches in and pulls out four large accordion folders. “I still haven’t quite made it to the digital age yet,” he prefaces with a frown. You push the coffee and bagels aside and he sets the files down.

Over the next several hours, the two of you fully entrench yourselves in the conference room, elbows deep in records and evidence Javier and his team have already gathered on the narcos in question: surveillance reports, bank statements, criminal records, photocopies of multiple passports with the same face. There’s so much information to absorb, but Javier is patient as you learn the background of the case and the layers of politics involved. He’s been in the game so long, he’s got entire family trees memorized.

Javier helps you identify the holes in your strategy you were struggling with last night, and together you come up with workarounds and back-up plans. Soon, the two of you settle more easily into a rhythm, comfortably sharing thoughts and ideas, unafraid to shoot something down if it won’t work. Javier respects your experience with Customs and your time with the FBI, and you can tell he actually listens when you have something to say, even if he’s in the wrong.

You’re close to finishing the presentation you’ll use to walk the rest of the team through everything when a knock at the door startles you both and breaks your concentration.

“Good evening,” the security guard says. “Still here, I see.”

Javi chats with the guard a bit in Spanish and you use it as an opportunity to take a quick bathroom break. Outside, the sun hangs low in the sky. You can’t believe how long you and Javi have been working, it feels like only a couple of hours have passed since you had that bagel. Your stomach clenches as you spy the vending machine in the break room and wish you had brought your wallet with you.

After you finish in the bathroom, you walk back to the conference room to find Javier standing alone, the security guard back off on his rounds. Javi turns to face you when you walk in, pausing to rest his weight into one of his hips, the other knee cocked. The man can really fill out a pair of jeans.

"We should probably wrap this up soon," he remarks, fidgeting with the pen in his hands. "We've been at it for hours now."

You know he heard the innuendo as well, because his eyes dart to the side and he clears his throat. If you didn't know better, you might even think the great Javier Peña was blushing a bit. You can't pass up the opportunity to tease him.

"And that was just on a bagel and coffee. Imagine what we could manage if you bought me dinner." Javi huffs out a small laugh and seems to relax a bit, potential awkwardness avoided.

As you're walking back to your laptop, Javi asks, "How do tacos sound?"

You turn around and see the mischief glint in his eyes, his lips twitching under his mustache. "Agent Peña, is that a proposition?"

"Depends on your answer."

Now you're the one blushing. You had noticed the way his eyes were drawn to your legs every time you stood up and walked to the front of the room, could feel the heat of his stare on your ass. He tried to be subtle, but after the first couple of times you had to admit you liked that he was looking. It had been awhile since you felt desired, and having an attractive man check out your ass and flirt with you certainly wasn't the worst thing in the world. It was harmless, and it's obvious you can both keep it professional when you have work to get done.

"Tacos always sound good to me."

"I guess we better hurry up and finish, then. Let's run through it one more time and get the hell out of here."

You stand at the front of the conference room to the side of the projector screen. Javi taps the keyboard and the first slide of your presentation appears. Well-rehearsed now, you walk through your strategy step-by-step.

First, a team will bring in the shady art dealers and confront them with the evidence that they’re helping launder dirty money. Javier already has the go-ahead to offer them a deal in exchange for their cooperation with the investigation, and you have a back-up plan prepared if they decide to be stupid.

Next, two undercover agents will pose as competing art dealers at a private gallery event, and establish contact with the narcos. The agents will make them an even better offer than the actual dealers, something that’s less risky for the narcos, while still keeping a lower cut of the profits – basically too good to pass up.

Javier will decide which of his agents are suited for this move, as it’s the most critical. They’ll need to be able to sell themselves as the real deal and maintain the relationship with the narcos as the case develops.

The following stages of the plan will involve the FBI's assistance, and you already have several ideas in mind for what that entails.

"You've got it," Javi remarks after you finish your spiel. "You're ready." Again, you light up at his praise. There's a small smile on his face that makes the butterflies in your stomach take flight.

"If you say so,” you sigh. “I don't exactly feel ready."

"Nobody feels ready – if they say they do, they’re lying." It's funny, you think, that although Javier says so little, you still feel comforted by the few words he offers.

The two of you begin to clean up your workspace and pack up. Javier drops off the box of files in his office while you wait in the elevator bay. You decide to check your phone to catch up on any missed messages and see a text from Marcus: You're going to be great tomorrow.

The same pressure in your chest returns from the phone call with him last night. You really miss this part of your relationship with Marcus, the friendship and support. In that moment, you almost want to call him up and tell him all about your day with Javier, how great it felt to be working on a case again after being exiled in Rumor Mill Siberia for so long. But you remember the pang you felt when he mentioned his girlfriend and wonder if you’ll ever be able to go back to the way things started with Marcus.

Javi walks up then, leather jacket and aviators on. "Tacos?"

"Tacos,” you agree, and press the elevator call button. Javi stands close enough to you in the ride down to the lobby that you can feel the supple leather of his jacket graze your arm.

Throughout the day, your typical observation of personal space began to dissipate. Your bodies were drawn into each other’s orbits over and over, like a rocket slingshotting around the moon.

Eventually, you found yourself looking for ways to approach and test that invisible electric current, breach its barrier. It was little things: faces hovering near each other as you made a change to the presentation on your laptop; fingertips and hands brushing when you pass each other something; torsos aligning while you’re bent over the conference room table, barely an inch between you.

You wave to the security guards as you exit the building and Javier points to where his Jeep is parked, just a few spots over from your own tiny Corolla. "We can take my car; I’ll bring you back here when we're done."

"Works for me."

You drop your stuff off at your car first, then hop in the passenger side. The Jeep SUV smells faintly of cigarette smoke and air freshener, but not in an unpleasant or cloying way. There’s a comfortable silence for the first few minutes, then you suddenly remember the question you were going to ask Javier.

"Out of curiosity, who was it you originally spoke to?"

"When?" Javi pops a piece of gum in his mouth.

"When you called the FBI."

"Oh, right.” He drums his fingers on the steering wheel as he thinks back. “Uh, some white guy, can't remember his name..."

You snort. The vast majority of the federal agents you’ve encountered are white men. "That narrows it down."

"Let me think." He makes a 'pump the brakes' gesture with his hand. "He was an asshole – even for a fed, which is saying a lot. On the young side, stuck up; I wanted to slap him through the phone.”

“Kind of nasally voice, probably has a rich daddy complex and wasn’t hugged enough as a kid?”

Javier laughs, “Probably.”

"Wilkins?"

"Yeah, I think that was it. You know him?"

"We're acquainted," you grumble. You fire off a quick text to Marcus and put your phone back in your pocket. For the rest of the drive you can feel Javier's eyes on you periodically, but he doesn't say anything else until you arrive at your destination.

You're in a residential neighborhood, the homes older and sunbaked, next to a soccer field that may be more dirt than grass. There’s a food truck parked half a block away, bursting with activity. Rows of bright lights are strung across an outdoor seating area with picnic tables painted beautifully bright colors, and lively ranchera music plays over a speaker. The line is long, but moving quickly, and a crowd mills about the picnic tables while a group of young men play a casual game of soccer nearby, their fast footwork illuminated by the nearby streetlamp. Kids shriek and play, running in a frenzy around the tables; a group of old men sit together, laughing boisterously; and the workers in and around the truck are yelling out orders in rapid-fire Spanish, chatting with customers, and dancing along to the music as they prepare food. The energy and vibrancy of it all makes the air practically sparkle with life.

“They don’t have taco places like this in D.C.”

"I know." Javi gives you a genuine smile and begins walking towards the end of the line. You follow closely behind him, the music making your steps light. "What would you like?"

"Huh?" Eyes wide, you’ve been too distracted, trying to soak in as much as you can. "Oh, uh... I don't know, what's good?"

"Everything, but we'll start off simple. Unless you feel up for an adventure?" He's still wearing his aviators against the last of the setting sun, but you can still make out the teasing look in his eyes. One of his eyebrows is quirked, waiting for your response.

You square your shoulders and say, "I'm very adventurous."

This turns Javier's smile into a smirk. He gives you an appreciative look and you both step forward as the line moves up. About ten minutes later, you're nearing the front of the line. Javier asks if you like cilantro and onions – yes, definitely. Spice tolerance – average, maybe? He takes this all into consideration.

Javier orders for both of you in Spanish, and it seems like he's a regular with how the workers greet him and chat conversationally. The woman taking his order smiles and nods her head in your direction; she looks to be about in her fifties or sixties, silver streaks in her dark hair pulled back into a chic twist. Javi dismisses her comment with a wave of his hand and smiles, then says something that makes the woman laugh and slap his arm playfully. This light, happy side of Javier is a joy to watch. You imagine it’s probably a side of him people at work never get to see.

"What did she say about me?" You ask once Javier is back with you. You're standing off to the side with the other customers anxiously waiting for their orders.

"She asked if you were my girlfriend." Again, you think he might be blushing a little. He fidgets with the receipt in his hands, looking anywhere but at you.

"And? What'd you say?"

"I told her she was the only girl for me, and that I'd never bag a girl who could cook as good as mi mamá." With the sun nearly fully set, Javier finally takes his aviators off and hooks them into the top button of his shirt.

"Well, I definitely can't cook as good as your mom, that's for damn sure." He laughs and you stand together in companionable silence until your order is called. You're practically salivating over the aromas wafting from the plastic bag. Javier finds a couple of empty spots at a picnic table near the soccer field and begins pulling out paper napkins, plastic utensils, and little containers of different colored salsas.

"You're in for a treat, Carmen had lengua on the menu tonight." He sets a foil-wrapped package in front of you.

"Lengua?" You eagerly unwrap your gift, your eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head at the smells – onions, cilantro, fresh masa tortillas, and meat seasoned and cooked tender, all nestled together in a shiny pouch.

"Yeah, that one in the middle. Try a bite first before you add any salsa."

You do as Javier instructs, leaning over the table to catch the juices and some onions as they fall. "Oh...my god," you mumble, your mouth full.

"You like it?" Javier digs into his own tacos, going through the motions of preparing them in a way you can tell he's done a hundred times before.

"What is it?"

"Beef tongue." He bites into his own lengua taco, then watches, waiting for your reaction. The smug bastard doesn’t even try to hide his smile.

You sputter a bit when you swallow, but don't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing you go green. The texture of the meat is different than you’re used to, but the flavor can't be denied – the taco is delicious.

You decide to beat Javi at his own game and take a huge bite of the tongue, letting out a deep moan around your food. He watches you, stone-faced with lips pursed. "So good," you manage to get out. Your moans of pleasure and appreciation for the food begin to gather notice from the group of older men nearby, who start laughing and pointing. One of them calls out something that must be cheeky, as his buddies begin laughing and nodding in agreement.

Once you finish your last bite and lick the juices from your fingers, you sit back, sated, making sure to ham it up for good measure.

"Javi, wow," you say, brushing your hair away from your forehead and letting out a heavy sigh. "That was so good." He's chewing his food, trying and failing to look unamused at your antics, his knee jiggling under the table. "I never knew I'd like tongue that much."

Javier chokes a bit on his food, then begins coughing a little into his fist. "Jesus," he splutters. You laugh and reach across the table to pat the back of his shoulder jovially.

"That's for trying to get a rise out of me... pendejo." You nudge his leg under the table with your foot for emphasis. He shakes his head and nudges you back.

The group of men nearby laugh uproariously at hearing you swear in Spanish, and one of them returns shortly from the truck with two cold glass bottles of Coca-Cola as a gift.

"For making us laugh, hermosita," the man says kindly.

"Muchos gracias," you demure, taking a celebratory swig. The flavor of the soda was slightly different, Coke had never tasted so good.

"It's Mexican, made with cane sugar." Javier has composed himself, eyes still a little shiny from the tears that came up while he was coughing.

"It's amazing." Javier nods in agreement, and takes a sip of his own bottle, after raising it in thanks to the gentlemen at the next table over.

"Which one is this?" You point to the taco on the right. "Brains?"

"Carnitas," Javi says, then clarifies, "Pulled pork."

"I know what carnitas are, I've been to a Chipotle," you throw back.

"Don't ever say that to me again."

You share a laugh and continue to dig into your delicious dinner. Javier tells you what each of the salsas are and you sample a bit of each before adding the green one to the carnitas. The remaining taco is al pastor, and doesn't even need salsa, it's so good.

With all the tacos depleted, you and Javi pick up your trash and walk along the edge of the soccer field together with your bottles of Coke.

"Thank you for the delicious dinner, by the way."

"No problem, I'm glad you liked it. This is one of my favorite places, reminds me of the small mom-and-pop places back home."

"Where's home?"

"Laredo – small town on the border. It's not that far, but with work always so busy I don't get out there as often as I'd like to."

You nod in understanding and take a sip of your soda.

"What about you?"

"I was a military brat, so there really isn't one place that's home." Javi watches you silently, waits for you to elaborate. "I guess D.C. was the last place that felt like home to me, though."

"Do you miss it?"

"Yeah, I do. I didn't think I would miss it this much actually. It's been kind of a rough transition, to be honest. Haven't really felt like I've settled in here yet."

A soccer ball crosses your path and Javi kicks it back over to the group of guys. "I know what you mean." You wonder if he’s thinking about his time in Colombia, or just being far away from his hometown.

"But this has been great. I haven't enjoyed food like this since moving here."

"Well, I'm always happy to bring you back. Or show you some other great spots," he shrugs casually, but there's a slight tension in his frame, like a wire pulled taut. Your stomach does a little flip at the idea of more evenings like this with Javi, and you decide to change the subject.

"I also wanted to thank you for helping me out with the briefing today. I really appreciate it." You’re looking at the ground, but can feel his eyes glancing over at you.

"You don't have to thank me – we'll all benefit just as much from this kicking off well tomorrow." The ground is slightly uneven and your shoulders bump occasionally as you walk, but neither of you move farther apart.

Javier didn't have to meet you in the office, bring you breakfast, or buy you dinner. He didn't have to work with you – on a Sunday, no less – for nearly an entire day. But he did, because he wants you to succeed just as much as he wants the entire team to succeed. He just might not be able to put it in so many words.

You walk around the other edge of the field, Coke bottles now empty, and watch the soccer players pack up their gear. Twilight is emerging, and some of the brighter stars are already appearing in the sky. With the sun down, the breeze is refreshingly cool and carries the scent of jacaranda.

Your phone buzzes in your bag, interrupting your reverie. It's a text from Marcus: Thanks for letting me know, I'll handle it. You grin as you put your phone away and catch Javier trying to appear as though he hadn't been watching you.

"That was about the guy you originally spoke to at the FBI. It's being taken care of." Wilkins had always been such a prick, and you’d long suspected he was the source of the nasty rumors back in D.C. Hopefully he'll finally get the ass-chewing he's been begging for all this time.

The crowd at the food truck has dwindled to a few small groups of customers finishing their dinners while employees begin getting everything ready to close shop.

"I guess I’d better get you back to your car. We've got an early start tomorrow." Javier takes your empty Coke bottle and places it in the recycling bin with his own. You wave goodbye to Carmen in the food truck and walk back to his Jeep.

The entire car ride back takes maybe ten minutes, and you can’t help feeling a little disappointed that it doesn’t take longer. Back at the office parking lot, Javier drives right up next to your sedan. You open the passenger door to get out and Javier reaches out a hand, placing it on your arm to stop you. He clears his throat.

"I- um," he stalls, shifting in his seat. You shut the door to show him he has your full attention, and he starts again. "I'm glad you're here. And I’m grateful for the hard work you’ve already put on the case."

You're not quite sure what to say. Javier's words create a warm, pleasant glow in your stomach, the butterflies becoming more familiar now the more you’re around him.

"I think I might have come across wrong, at first.” His eyes meet yours, holding your attention. “I didn't just want to use your connections with the FBI. I wanted you."

The warm glow in your belly begins burning, igniting the butterflies’ wings.

"Thank you for saying that."

"I mean it." Javier's eyes are warm, wide and earnest. They’re holding you there, and all you can do is nod, show him you accept his offering. Javi looks away, and the spell is broken. He removes his hand from your arm, but you can still feel it there like a brand burnt into your skin.

Taking a breath, you try to lighten the mood as you open the car door again.

"I'm going to be dreaming about those tacos, I hope you know. For a long time." You get out and throw your bag over your shoulder, giving him a teasing glare.

"I hope that's not the only thing you dream of, cariño." Javier winks, matching your tone. You shake your head at him with a smile.

"Goodnight, Javi." He waits until you start your car and drive off before following you out of the parking lot.

Javier’s words ring in your ears the entire way home. You don't know what to think of this enigmatic man, who always has a way of surprising you, but you’re also hoping for more interesting dreams.

~*~*~*~

Back home, Javier decides to take a shower and wash the day from him. All in all, he thinks, it’s going to be a very successful briefing. He knows you’ll do a fantastic job, even if you don’t believe it yourself. At the food truck, Carmen was telling him you seemed nice, and then, “You need a nice girl, Javi.” You are nice.

Javier puts his head directly under the hot spray and lets the water cascade down his body. Your face enters his mind, like it does so often these days. He can picture you at the picnic table, smiling and laughing, teasing him by practically reenacting the deli scene from When Harry Met Sally. Javier shakes his head, smiling to himself, and grabs the soap. That viejito with his friends had called out, "I hope you make her sound like that at home, mijo!"

Indulging, just for a moment, Javier wonders what sounds you would make if he did have you at home. His cock twitches to life at the mere idea.

If he had you laid out on his bed, writhing, responding to his touch, his mouth, his words…what would those noises be like? He wants to hear all your sounds, wants to be the one to elicit your breathy pants and gasps, your moans, whines, and whimpers. He wants to hear you beg him for release – needs to hear his name on your lips like an invocation.

Javier's cock is responsive, quickly becoming hard at the thought of hearing you let go and lose yourself. "Jesus..." he groans, the soap in his hands makes his motions slick and easy.

First, he washes himself slowly, languidly, taking his time with the fantasy. His hands become yours, spreading the rich lather over his chest and shoulders, then trailing down the plane of his stomach to the thatch of hair at the root of his dick.

Javier begins stroking himself, slowly at first, experimentally. "Shit…oh, shit." He's already so hard, his dick jumping as he grasps himself more firmly. He wonders if your fingers would be able to close all the way around his girth. Would you be tentative and hesitant at first, or would you take him confidently in your grip, grasping with a twist of your wrist at the head.

Precum pearls at the tip of his cock and he swipes the pad of his thumb. Would you do the same, or would you get down on your knees and look up at him through your lashes, tongue out to taste him? The thought of you there in front of him, mouth and hand encasing his cock, sends a spasm of pleasure through him and he braces a hand against the cold tiles of the shower wall.

"Fuck–," he chokes out. He grits his teeth and squeezes the base of his cock, breathing through his nose for a second until he’s backed off from the edge.

If he’s going to let himself go there, to cross that line mentally, Javi wants to draw this fantasy out and make the most of it. He wants to imagine what your body would feel like under his hands, how soft your skin would be, the jiggle of your soft flesh as he thrusts into you. Javier imagines your beautiful legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his ass, spurring him on harder and faster.

His strokes start to falter as he thinks of your tight, velvety walls squeezing him, fluttering as he pushes you closer to the edge. He's so close, he could cum right now if he let himself, but in his mind's eye you're not there yet. Not quite ready.

What would get you where you need to be? Maybe you like your nipples sucked and nibbled on, your neck and ears kissed, a thumb circling your swollen clit.

Javier's pants and grunts are the only noises over the rush of the water, besides the slick, rhythmic sound of him jerking off. So close. So fucking close – but not yet.

Maybe you like to be on top, grinding down against that delicious pressure, sweaty chests pressed together. You might like to lean back, hands on his thighs as he supports you with a strong grip around your waist, just so you could feel that angle just the way you like.

Would your legs and belly start to shake, like his are now? Would a deep, searing kiss help you inch closer to finishing, his tongue thrusting into your mouth the way his cock would piston in and out of your cunt?

His pants are turning into gasps, his chest tight, your name on the tip of his tongue…if he could just let himself give it over.

Or…maybe all you need is to be talked through it, given permission to let go. Maybe you need to be told instead, to follow orders, to let him take what he needs from you –

"Unh, oh–f-fuck – FUCK," Javier's fingers grasp for purchase at the slippery tile, legs threatening to give out as his cum shoots out in ropes. One hits the wall, the next the edge of the tub, the rest spills out over his fist.

Javi huffs out a moan with each spasm, toes curling, vision going black at the edges. He wishes he could give himself over to the sensations, disappear into the rush and tingles, the blood pumping in his veins, heart beating through his chest. But something holds him back from fully giving into the fantasy.

He feels a twinge of guilt as he cleans himself up and finishes the shower. Even though it is just a fantasy, he wonders if allowing himself this indulgence will make it more difficult to face you tomorrow morning at the briefing.

Still, as he lays in bed, the sheets cool and refreshing against his naked body still hot from the shower, he wonders what you like after sex. Once your heart beat slows and you catch your breath, opening your eyes to look at your lover, are you a cuddler? Do you like to be taken care of, cleaned up gently, soothed and reassured, held closely? You strike him as the type to enjoy the sensuality of physical touch and affection; it could add to your post-orgasm comedown, drawing out the blissful mental space you enter.

Digging the heels of his palms into his eyes, Javier lets out a heavy sigh and fights the temptation to light up a cigarette. Instead, he chooses to distract himself with his phone; he can answer a few work emails before going to sleep. Javi’s surprised to see a text from you instead.

Thanks again for your help. I'm really glad I'm here too.

In spite of himself, he can't help but smile. The urge for a cigarette eases and he thinks about what to write back. Grinning, he sends his reply and settles in to go to sleep.

We’ll get tamales next time.

Series Masterlist || Next Chapter

Additional Author’s Note: Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for all the lovely comments and reblogs! I can’t tell you how much they mean to me. As always, I would love-love-love to know what you think. I really want to become a better writer, so any and all feedback is welcome! Thank you for reading! 💜

#senorabond writes #rumor has it fic #javi x reader x pike #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x reader #javier peña #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike #javier pena x you

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gintrinsic-writing · 3 months

Note

For the Unusual Fic-Specific Asks for Authors ask game – would you be interested in doing Perspective Flip for This World (is only gonna break your heart), chapter 1’s head trauma fic?? If you want a specific character I think Legend would be interesting, but honestly I’d love to see any character’s POV! (I love this fic so much I need to put in an actual decent comment for it asdfgh)

I'm notoriously slow at writing fiuhshsdfush sorry, but it's incomplete. I probably didn't get to the part you most wanted, but I work the rest of the week, then have to host family for 5 days, so I'm not going to have a chance to write again for a good bit. Hopefully this is still fun to read! I might be able to get to the rest when life slows down.

Based on this short fic.

“Four?” Legend questioned, wariness coloring his tone. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Four rasped. His fingers flexed around the hilt of the Four Sword over and over again. Even from across the field, it was easy to see that his breaths were too shallow. He licked his lips. “Wild, could I have more of that herbal water?”

Wild’s ears drooped guiltily. “I’m sorry, but there’s not much left, and Warriors still hasn’t had any.”

Legend sent a sharp look to Warriors, cutting off the self-sacrificial bullshit before it could even begin with a well-timed frown. Warriors acted like he didn’t notice, but he pressed his lips together as he tied off the last of Time’s bandages. Drama queen.

“Right,” Four murmured. He handed his empty cup back, then tugged on his hair. His hand visibly trembled. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

Sky questioned Four about an injury, and several others joined in. Legend tuned them out, thumbing one of the heart rings as he watched Hyrule. The traveler swayed a little as he approached, and he sat down without an iota of grace. Sweat dampened both their arms as he leaned against Legend. It was uncomfortable; Legend didn’t consider moving.

“Don’t volunteer for watch tonight,” he murmured, rolling his eyes when Hyrule stuck out his tongue.

"Don't tell me what to do, Leg."

“Bitch.”

“Worrywort.”

Before Legend could think of a comeback, he noticed Four beginning to pace. The grass nearly reached the smithy’s knees.

“I’m not… me. I mean I am, but…” Four frowned. “I’m not just me. That’s the problem.”

Hyrule crossed his legs where he sat. “You can tell us. We’ll do whatever we can to help.”

Four’s eyes darted along the length of the Four Sword as if searching for something. “For you to understand, there’s something I need to…” He trailed off a sharp exhale. “I named myself for the Four Sword because—because drawing it gives me the ability to split into four separate versions of myself. Only… it’s not working now.”

“Like cloning?” Legend asked, thinking back on some of the oddities he’d come across on his quests.

“No. They represent different parts of me. They’re my colors.” Four’s sudden smile was a fragile thing. “My sense of reason, my sentiment, my temper, my bravery. Obviously, it’s more complicated than that, but that’s the gist. And right now…” Once more, he touched the dried blood along his hairline. “I can’t hear them at all. I can’t split.”

“Split?” Legend mouthed, just as Sky asked, “Hear them? You normally hear voices?”

Well, that was concerning. Legend thumbed his heart ring again, glancing around at the others. Warriors was still in that eerie way of his, and Wild looked strangely mournful. At least the Old Man seemed to be resting well.

“It’s not like that. I get… impressions. Influences,” Four answered timidly.

“The voices influence you?” Warriors asked, and ah—there it was. That tone he used when he was truly worried and trying not to show it. Legend wondered if any of the others recognized it for what it was yet. “How often does that happen?”

Four twitched, then smiled again. “I’m probably explaining this poorly. The voices are me. They’re normal.”

Wariness returned to Legend’s gut, and he could feel Hyrule slowly tensing. He had a feeling things were about to get worse.

#lu legend #lu hyrule #lu four #lu warriors #lu fic #gintrinsic ask #gintrinsic writing

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elfqueen006 · 9 months

Text

The Lifeguard Part 1

Sunny Day Jack x Reader

---

Tags/CW: summer camp au, camp counselor au, horror, slasher, enemies to lovers. Reader is a bitch at first but eases up on Jack.

Minors DNI

You were the worst candidate to choose for a counselor, much less a counselor-in-training. You were crass, unqualified, and a slob to boot. But Sunny Day Jack, the camp mascot, couldn’t say anything because the kids took to you like ducks to scattered bread, and the head counselor admired your “can do attitude”. He’d just have to put up with you for the rest of the summer and to steer clear of the water…

Oh yeah another thing: You were the lifeguard.

“Cannon ball!”

Jack looked up from his clipboard to see one of the kids racing across the docks before jumping in the lake, making a large slash that sprayed everyone within distance.

“Hey, hey! No running on the docks, guys!” He said.

You however, clapped and whooped from your chair. “Sick dive, David!” You cheered.

The boy came up from the water and grinned at you.

Jack marched up to your chair and glared at you, “They’re not supposed to run on the docks,” he said, enunciating his words, “and as the lifeguard you should know it’s your responsibility if anything happens to them!”

“And I’ll take full responsibility, Jack-o. Don’t worry, I’ve got it under control,” You replied coolly. You drew your finger down your face like a teardrop and stuck out your bottom lip, “Don’t be a sad clown.”

The kids and counselors giggled upon hearing your joke.

Despite him being the camp mascot, Jack was essentially a counselor himself. Though he had fun – he was responsible. In his late teens as a counselor-in-training, he gradually built himself up to a trusted and respected member of staff.

And yet here you were – a newbie slacker – who was able to reduce him to a common fool with a single remark.

“Lay off,” Skylar said. She was your best friend and polar opposite. Sweet, considerate, and fun loving in a way that wasn’t arrogant or obnoxious. Call it childish, but he thinks he might’ve had a crush on her since this summer started.

She lightly chided you before pinching your leg. Then she gave Jack a sweet smile, brushing her blonde locks from her face. She put a hand on his shoulder and the man just about turned to jelly.

“Don’t mind her, she’s an asshole,” She said with humor, “The kids will be fine. I’m watching them too.”

“Thanks, Skylar.” Jack replied.

He turned to leave but she stopped him, lightly biting her lip as she looked up at him through golden lashes, “I know you don’t drink and all… but the other counselors and I were wondering if you would come with us to the bar tomorrow night? I notice you’ve been stressed lately and I think it’d be good if you let off some steam.”

Jack had a heavy problem with drinking and anything drug related. As in he refused to participate in it and at times discouraged his fellow counselors from doing so, especially when on the job. He knew he came off as preachy, but this place was practically a second home to him. And the staff were like his family. He’d hate to see what’d happen if they fell down a messy path like he did…

Or worse, hurt one of the kids.

Warily, he glanced towards the high chair. “Is she going to be there?”

Skylar bit her lip guiltily, “She is one of the counselors too.”

“Yeah, some counselor…” Jack muttered.

“Hey, sure she’s a jerk sometimes but she’s really cool when it counts!” Skylar said, “Besides, no matter how much she may be, you shouldn’t let that ruin your chance to relax. Don’t you think you deserve that?”

He glowered at you from afar. One of the kids had fallen off a boat and instead of reacting accordingly, you started cackling before being told by another counselor to go and fetch them. But then he looked down and those perfect sky blue eyes looked back up at him. He sighed defeatedly.

“I guess I can make…some kind of compromise. But if it gets too hectic I’ll leave!” Jack said.

“No you won’t,” Skylar said, nudging his arm, “because we’ll need a spotter so we don’t get too drunk and someone to take us home.”

He huffed a laugh, “Right.”

She grinned and sprinted past him, her hair flowing behind her. Halfway to the main cabin, she waved back to him.

“See ya there!”

—

Regret. Sooo much regret. Everyone was a drunken mess. Nay, a frenzy. And Jack wasn’t too far behind. At first he’d been lightly sipping his drink, but it seemed like every inane comment from you drove him to take in more than he intended.

“No no no, you don’t understand. I’m the lifeguard right? Why do these kids come to me like I’m their guidance counselor?” You said.

“You are a counselor!” One of the others replied.

“Yeah but I help with activities and shit, not talk to these kids about why no one will date them at fucking middle school age- like kid! You better go and do some homework!”

Everyone roared with laughter.

“And they’re just gonna sneak in each others’ cabins later sooo-”

“Maybe,” Jack blurted suddenly, “Maybe they wouldn’t be doing that if you educated them properly for once, Y/N.”

You shake your head, “I’m not their sex ed teacher, Jack. Miss me with that.”

“Will you let me finish? If you just did. Your. Jooob,” He smacks his hand in his palm in tune with his words, “then I wouldn’t have to pick up your slack for every time you fuck up!”

The counselors made a collective ‘oohhh’ noise. Things were heating up. Even Skylar watched with interest.

“Oh, okay now we’re getting into it- hold my drink, Ian.” You said, handing your drink to your boyfriend,who drank less out of the whole crowd. Jack also passed his drink to someone.

“Jack, you’ve been on my ass since day one. And you’re just mad that the kids don’t think you’re fun anymore.”

His hazel eyes constricted, “What?”

You shrug coolly.

“You’re out of your mind! They think I’m fun!”

“You’re around those kids waaay too damn much, Jack,” You chuckle, “You got something you’re not telling us?”

“Fuuuck you- FUCK YOU-” He hissed, pointing a gloved finger at you. Skylar pat Ian behind your back and gave him an expectant look. Ian nodded and shook your shoulder lightly, “Baby, that’s a little too far.”

“Yeah, don’t be mean,” Skylar added.

“It’s not my fault he can’t take a little ribbing.” You teased.

The clown rose from his seat, “Oh, I’ll give you ribbing you little-”

A couple of male counselors went to hold him back, but it wasn’t an easy feat. Jack was fucking massive and he almost would’ve gotten to you if not have for the third counselor grappling him from the back of his neck.

Guess he wouldn't be driving anyone home.

—

A massive fucking hangover washed over Jack the day after. He stumbled over his feet as he stepped out of bed. He went to the bathroom and switched on the light. It was a pain on his eyes when he struggled to focus on the mirror. All his makeup was washed off. He was in a regular white tee and his boxers.

He then spotted a blue sticky note on the side of his mirror that read:

Your costume is in the cabinet. Don’t go so hard today, Jack! - SKY

He breathed a laugh. Fuck, he loved her.

When he is dressed in his costume he checks the time and he cringes to see it’s nearly the afternoon. But when he goes outside he’s nearly surprised to see everything is just as it was the day before. Knowing his fellow counselors – knowing Skylar – they had probably just wanted him to rest easy. But it ached to just how easily everyone got along without him…

Everyone had been at their usual stations, guiding the kids, participating in activities… except for you. Your high chair was empty.

Of course.

He walked around to greet everyone and smiled when a few kids from the younger cabins came up to greet him.

“We thought you were gone!” A little girl cried.

“We thought you left us!”

Jack scoffed, “Me? Nooo, I’d never abandon this place. That means I’d leave my kids and we can’t have that right?” Saying this, he ruffled their hair. They laughed, gave him a hug, and went back to their assigned counselors.

Right after, the head counselor, Bill, had come up to greet him. With a smile he slapped him on the back, “Look at you fresh faced and starry eyed! I was worried you were gonna be out of commission for the day.”

Jack shook his head, “Oh no, sir. Not when there’s so much work to be done!”

“That’s nice, well you needn't worry about that for a bit, we’ve got somebody on it.” Bill said.

“...Who?”

He said your name and Jack paled, “She’s got it handled! She doesn’t do much at that chair when she’s on lifeguard duty so Skylar suggested we put ‘er on her feet for a while.”

“That… That’s great, sir.” Jack smiled weakly, something Bill didn’t miss. He puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Now son, I know you kids’ don’t always see eye to eye, but Y/N’s a real swell girl when you get to know her.”

“But why should I?” Jack snapped suddenly, “Why do I need to know her, so she can be nice?!”

“Hey I’m nice!”

The two men looked to the trail near them where you led a line of young teens. Bill pat him on the back before usurping the kids from you and leading them to lunch. You were dressed in a self-made crop top from your original camp shirt and some jean shorts with sneakers. You were somewhat pretty if he looked past your general awfulness. But he didn’t wanna explore you any more than that. Clenching his fists, he started heading in the direction of the cafeteria. But, typical you, you didn’t take the hint and saddled up alongside him.

“Hey.” You said.

“...”

“We should probably hurry up and squash this, the counselors’ are on my ass today. Skylar too.”

“Good.” He remarked bitterly, “I hope they’re on your a- tail- the rest of the summer.”

“Hey, hey- Sunny, hold on!” You step in front of him, blocking his path from the door. He tried to go around you but you kept side stepping him, refusing to let him through. He had half a mind to throw you aside, but he’d have to contain himself. For Bill. The other counselors. Hell, the whole camp. He groaned, steeling himself for whatever drivel you were about to spout.

“Okay so,” You began, “I admit I’m a bitch.”

“No, really?” Jack replied dryly.

“Really. I haven’t been… all that cool to you. Especially last night. But I swear I was only ripping on you a bit, and aside from that alcohol gets me crazy so-”

“This doesn’t sound like an apology.” Jack interrupted.

“Lemme finish, lemme finish!” You urged, “I thought I was only being a bitch in like- a cool way, y’know? And I mean, we’re both adults so… I thought you’d get it?”

Tik tok, Y/N, tik tok.

“I’m sorry,” You said quickly, “okay? I’m so so fucking sorry. And the drinking… It's no excuse because I was being a bitch bitch, not a cool bitch. And I used it as like, more of a booster to my incredible bitchiness so-”

Jack put his hand up, stopping your ridiculous apology, “Alright alright. Apology accepted. Let’s get the hell inside.”

You sidestepped him again, “Wait, no.”

He blinked rapidly before settling his gaze on you with a hard look, “Excuse me?”

“Skylar. She’s been gone awhile, arranging things in the shed.” You said. A flicker of concern flashed across his face.

“Is she alright?” He asked.

“Yeah! She texted me a bit ago. She might need some help though.” You wiggled your brows suggestively.

“...What?”

“Go. Go help her!” Saying that, you shoved his arm opposite to the cafeteria. And for whatever reason he followed your insistent hassling.

He was halfway to the shed, which was right along the forest. He’d gone and fetched things from the shed a number of times but the thought of Skylar being all alone… he didn’t like it. And he couldn’t help but wonder: while your apology was half assed, you seemed to be way more sincere when pushing him in your friends’ direction. Were you trying to …help him with her?

No. No, now that he thought about it, it was more likely you were trying to hook them up.

For some reason that made him snicker.

The thought that counts, I guess.

Soon enough he reaches the supply shed. And for some reason he feels his stomach churn.

He took the opportunity to adjust his hair and jacket, before raising his fist to knock on the door.

“Ian- shit..!”

Jack’s whole body went still. That was…Skylar’s voice. And he was certain of the name she said. Your boyfriends’ name.

He listened further. There was shuffling in the cabin, and creaking. And moaning.

“Yeah..! Right there!”

“Fuck, you’re so pretty, Sky…”

He was sure of it now. That was Ian’s voice. And they were…

Without thinking, he burst into the shed. There was a shriek from the two of them. They stumbled over their feet trying to cover themselves. Ian fumbled with his pants, covering up that flaccid dick of his. Skylar went for her camp counselor shirt. Her shorts and panties were around her ankles. Her black bra pulled over her breasts…

“Wh-What the fuck?!” Skylar shrieked, “Get out of here!”

“Hold on! Hold on,” Ian said, trying to calm her down. Fully dressed, he started to approach the stagnant clown. “You won’t tell Y/N about this, will you-”

Jack struck him across the face. Skylar shrieked as her lover fell to the hard wood and she tried to make a run for it. Before she could reach the door though, he grabbed her by the hair – her beautiful blonde hair – and pulled her back in the shed. No one could hear their screams for miles.

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