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mindmelter · 3 months

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The Body Wearing Convention - Las Vegas

The BWA (Body Wearing Alliance) was formed 20 years ago when the internet was just starting to get popular. Those born with the rare ability of reducing people into wearable skins didn't knew there was more like them out there, but with the help of the internet they started to find others with the same ability, and soon it was created the BWC (Body Wearing Convention)

The Body Wearing Convention is a clandestine event that happens a few times every year, hidden from the prying eyes of the public, It is a secret event where they can gather, share stories, and find solace in the knowledge that they aren't alone in their power.

The BWC happens in a different country every time, for safety reasons, and the main two rules to participate in the convention is: To be a Skinwalker (That's how they call themselves) and to wear the body of a local from that place, that means you can't bring with yourself skins from home.

Currently the secret Alliance is made up of 130 men around the world. But among these 130 members, there are 10 men who are very close friends with each other, they all share one thing in common: They are all gay.

Surprisingly they are the only gay guys of the entire Alliance, while all the others sought power and money, these 10 friends only care about getting hard in a new sexy body, It was like a sport for them. That's why they created an online group chat, where they can talk and share pictures of their current bodies with each other.

The location of the BWC this time is: USA - Las Vegas.

The 10 friends all arrived individually at the city in an early Friday, the convention would occur during the weekend, so they had to find a new skin quickly, and so they went straight on a hunt for a random local body.

Think of the BWC as the Met Gala, but for people who can turn you into a wearable hollow fleshsuit in a blink. There was this unspoken competition among them, to see who was wearing the hottest or richest skin, and this group of friends clearly didn't care about the last one...

_______________________________________

Carl is a 46 years old married gay man, he is part of the BWA for 17 years, and there is nothing Carl love more than wearing the bodies of fit straight guys. His husband knows he's a skinwalker and is totally fine with it. But because his husband is not a skinwalker, he is not allowed to go to the conventions, so Carl always travels alone.

(Friday, March 1st. 8:19 AM) Carl Sent A Photo

Carl: I just turned this hot Latino stud in the hotel parking lot. He was walking towards his car while talking on the phone with his girlfriend. That's when I slowly walked behind him and turned him. What do you guys think? Do I wear him well?

Harold: You're looking so hot. You always pick the most hottest guys.

Elijah: Wow, you already found a body? That was fast.

Joel: He's not that impressive, I would give him a 6/10 lol

Elijah: Stop being a jerk Joel. This guy is clearly a 9/10

Carl: Don't mind him Elijah, he's just jealous of my pick.

Joel: He's not really my type, today I'm looking for a sexy tough looking guy to wear.

Peter: Hot choice of skin Carl! Show us his dick please!

Carl: You will have to wait until the Convention to see it. But i'm telling you, he's really big and thick, I know you're gonna love sucking it.

_______________________________________

David is 34 years old and he is part of the BWA for 13 years.

He first found out about his ability when his homophobic stepbrother was trying to beat him up, David closed his eyes and tried to protect his head, but when he opened his eyes, he saw his hot stepbrother lying on the floor completely deflated. David had the most fun years living the life of his douchebag of a stepbrother, until one day, his stepbrother just "disappeared"

(Friday, March 1st. 9:46 AM) David Sent A Photo:

David: I made two new bodysuits. I saw the handsome blond one at the hotel's pool, he was trying to seduce some girls by showing off his hot body, he just didn't knew he was actually seducing a skinwalker. To get him, I first had to convert this cute room service attendant, after I put him on, I got access to his room and walked inside. I think I'm going to use the attendant tonight for some fun.

Elijah: Oh, the good old room service method. It works every time.

David: It was you who taught me this method back in 2011 when I was still a new member of the BWA.

Damian: It brings back good memories from that one time where we all stayed at the same hotel in the 2011 Convention. Good times.

_______________________________________

Peter Is a 40 years old gay bottom who love to turn big hunky men into Bodysuits and act like a slut in their bodies. He is part of the Body Wearing Alliance for 9 years.

(Friday, March 1st. 11:28 AM) Peter Sent A Photo:

Peter: Do I look cute? This is Ramón, I turned him at an alley while he was jogging, he's a bodybuilder. I'm gonna make such a good use of his muscles. I'm sure you guys are going to love the muscles in his ass the most.

Joel: I love how you always pick the most biggest guys.

Daniel: I feel bad for this poor bastard, of all the Skinwalkers, he was picked by the most perverted one.

Peter: lol

Carl: He's huge. I'm going to enjoy burying my new thick latino dick in your bodybuilder's ass.

Harold: I really like his pecs. I want to suck on them when we meet tomorrow.

Peter: It's always the pecs for you isn't, Harold? lol

Harold: You're not lying. Actually I just saw this hot guy at the mall and he seems to have very big pecs. I'm going to follow him.

_______________________________________

Harold is a 28 years old scrawny gay man, he has no muscle definition, but he love pecs and it was what he first looked for in a body: Their huge pecs. If the guy didn't had two big meaty pecs, he wound't want them.

He went to the local LA mall to hunt for a body, he knew that the mall was always the perfect place for hunting skins. And he was proven just right when he saw this big and tall hunk walk inside a clothing store. Harold smirked as he entered the store and followed the man.

(Friday, March 1st. 1:05 PM) Harold Sent A Photo:

Harold: Who want some milk boys? Daddy got all the milkers now.

Peter: Oh my god, look at the size of these tits. I will let you suck on Ramón's tits if you let me suck yours.

Harold: This sounds like a good deal.

Carl: Very nice choice of skin! Good job, Harold.

Peter: Can you send a video of you playing with those hairy tits and pinching his nipples? Please?

(1:15 PM, Harold Sent A 20 Seconds Video To The Group Chat)

In the vídeo he was in the middle of the store, squeezing his new pair of meaty hairy pecs, he lifted one of them and let go, watching them bounce, then he pinched his left nipple and let out a deep loud moan. Without feeling any shame for being in a public space. It wasn't technically him who was being humiliated in public, so he didn't cared.

_______________________________________

Damian and Rashad are a black gay couple (47, 49) they have been together for 11 years and they both had met each other during a Body Wearing Convention back in 2013. It was very known to everyone that they only turned white men into Bodysuits, it was their favorite type of skins. So there was no diversity in their Bodysuit closet, only white men.

(Friday, March 1st. 3:07 PM) Damian Sent A Photo:

Damian: You guys know how Rashad and I love to hunt white boys, so what better place to find some white skins than at the LA beach? We saw this group of young frat boys surfing and we converted these two 19 years olds, they were just the most handsome ones in their group. Turns out they are twin brothers.

David: This is such a hot pair, and the fact they are brothers makes it even more hot!

Carl: I want to fuck the long haired one with my thick latino dick while I pull his hair.

Damian: I like this Idea. His long hair would be great to use as a handle for a hard fuck. I might even try It later tonight.

David: Send us a video if you do.

_______________________________________

Joel is the youngest one of the group, at only 19 he already has a count of 86 Bodysuits, and he's part of the Body Wearing Alliance for only 1 year. That's why, the BWA leader tasked Elijah, a veteran in the art of wearing bodies, to watch for Joel and not let the young man expose their secret society.

(Friday, March 1st. 5:14 PM) Joel Sent A Photo:

Joel: My new bodysuit is still deflating. I can't wait to finally wear him and show him to you guys. He's so hot.

Carl: You gave my bodysuit a 7/10, so he better be a 10/10.

Isaac: Wow he's packing.

Harold: When he deflate, please send us a pic of you in him. I want to see if his front looks as good as his back side.

(Friday, March 1st. 5:40 PM) Joel Sent A Photo:

Joel: I'm inside him now. I saw this sexy daddy at the hotel's bar. I waited for him to go to his room and then I followed him, as soon as he opened the door I converted him, right there at the door's entrance, I mean, of course he took a bit longer to deflate, so I had to drag him inside. I actually wanted to wear a scary looking soldier that I saw at the bar, but Elijah didn't let me. Still, I'm very glad with my pick.

Harold: Holly fuck!!!

Peter: He's a very sexy bodysuit. Wish I was there to give him a very special room service.

Carl: Where is Elijah by the way? Should he not be with you?

Joel: Elijah Is outside, I don't know where he went, but he said he was going to be back soon.

Carl: Did he picked a bodysuit already?

Joel: Yes he did, a young and hot fuckboy. Let me send a pic of him.

Joel Sent A Photo:

Joel: This is the body Elijah picked to wear at the convention tomorrow. I think he got this one at the hotel's bathroom maybe? I'm not sure. I hope he don't mind that I'm wearing his brand new skin.

Elijah: Boy, you're in big trouble!

Joel: Shit, I'm sorry, I thought you wouldn't mind. I'm gonna take him off.

Elijah: Don't you dare taking him off, I'm not going to wear him anymore, I found a better body to wear tomorrow. wait for me, I'm getting up there right now.

(Friday, March 1st. 6:22 PM) Elijah Sent A Photo:

Elijah: You don't want to disobey me in my new body, boy, so you better be on your knees when I get inside, I'm horny and this guy have big balls full of cum.

Joel: Yes sir!

Peter: Oh yes sir indeed!

Carl: lol you're fucked Joel.

_______________________________________

Isaac is a 24 years old gay man, and like everyone else in this group, he was addicted to wearing hunky men. He is more reserved and shy, and don't talk much in the group chat. However, he enjoys jerking off while viewing the photos his friends would send to the group chat.

He might be the most shy and reserved in the group, but once he's wearing a handsome hunk, he becomes a whole new different person, a more dominant and cocky one.

(Friday, March 1st. 8:37 PM) Isaac Sent A Photo:

Isaac: Seeing you guys wearing such hot bodies is getting me so freaking hard. I can't wait for tomorrow. I got this one at the gym's lockerroom. Who wants to take care of my boner?

Peter: I do! I want to get on my knees in Ramón's body and let you use his slutty mouth.

Harold: You're looking so damn hot, Isaac, good pick.

Carl: Was you working out? Your skin looks very sweaty.

Isaac: I was. I wanted to test out my new muscles.

Carl: Great. Can't wait for the convention tomorrow, where we can finally see each other's bodies in person and have the orgy of the year.

#bodysuit

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rabbitcruiser · 2 months

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World Art Day

World Art Day is celebrated every year on April 15. All around the world, people have their definitions for what they consider to be art. Different cultures have different tastes and styles. This holiday is used as an opportunity to promote the development of art. It encourages people to take the time to notice the beautiful things around them. With our busy schedules, people don’t always have the time to go to art galleries. A yearly reminder about beauty helps people relax and just enjoy experiencing the world. It shares knowledge, sparks curiosity, and leads to very interesting conversations.

History of World Art Day

World Art Day was declared on April 15 at the General Assembly of the International Association of Art. The first celebration was in 2012. The date was chosen to honor the birthday of the famous Leonardo da Vinci. Da Vinci represents tolerance, world peace, freedom of expression, and multiculturalism. The first world art day was supported by all the International Association of Art (I.A.A.) national committees. There were 150 artists from countries all over the world to ensure inclusion. There were conferences and special museum hours. Outdoor art exhibitions were held to display paintings, prints, sculptures, videos, and more.

Art comes in different forms and categories. Art can be architecture, music, painting, sculpting, dance, or literature. Cinema is also considered art. It is a way for people to express themselves through creativity. True art is simply an expression of emotion. It represents the artist’s view of the world and how they feel about it. Art communicates how similar we can be and also how different. People get their meanings of art when they experience it. Their perceptions are usually based on their personal experiences in life.

World Art Day is a great reminder to help people notice the beauty around them. It reminds people to express themselves fully. We are all full of emotions and should be allowed to show them without fear. The goal is to facilitate the sustainable development of art. With enough support, artists can continue to portray beauty.

World Art Day timeline

1948 The I.A.A. is Born

The International Association of Art is founded in Beirut.

1954 The I.A.A. Becomes Independent

The International Association of Art becomes an independent organization and a UNESCO partner.

2012 World Art Day is Founded

The first World Art Day takes place in Guadalajara on April 15.

2013 World Art Day is Held in South Africa

World Art Day is celebrated by Mbombela municipal art museum in South Africa

World Art Day FAQs

Can anyone create art?

Anything that was created from the imagination as an expression of emotion is considered art. Art can be made by anyone.

Is cooking an art?

Cooking can be considered an art form. A cake, for example, can be considered a beautiful work of art.

Which cities are known for art?

Cities like Rome, Paris, Vienna, and Jerusalem are well-known for their arts and culture. Florence, Mexico City, Venice, London, Barcelona, and Lagos are also known for art.

World Art Day Activities

Create some art

Visit an art museum

Watch a great movie

You can get in touch with your creative side. You can write, draw, paint or take photographs.

There are many art museums and galleries that you can visit. They carry many beautiful art pieces that you can buy or just enjoy looking at.

Movies are considered to be a form of art. Enjoy a classic movie that tells a great story.

5 Fascinating Facts About Art

Art comes from the imagination

Art is a career field

Art can be a performance

Art helps the mind

Art is emotional

Humans use their creative skills and imagination to create something that others can see

Art has professional applications like fashion design, jewelry design, architecture, and wood crafts.

Performance arts include music, dance, and theater.

Art improves hand-eye coordination, strengthens focus, and teaches problem-solving.

Art can help people express complex feelings and emotions.

Why We Love World Art Day

Art is universal

Art is good for the health

Art opens the mind

Art can be understood by people all over the world. It has no language or border barriers.

Art is known to help increase motivation, build self-esteem, and improve holistic health.

Art helps people to see the world from a different point of view. It helps them get a new perspective.

Source

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kneelingshadowsalome · 4 months

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The other day I was reading about the “mail-order brides” during the Gold Fever/Gold Rush in USA. Men ordered/purchased a wife via mail, and one of the many reasons some of them did that was because of loneliness, and I couldn’t help but think “yep, that would be König”. Just imagine him living alone in his farm or ranch, he only goes to town once a month to buy essential supplies, hides his face, and barely socializes with folks. But deep inside he is just a lonely man who desires a family, and a woman to call his (and one who can help him with his… needs) But he is socially inept, so he takes the easy route and orders himself a wife, that way he doesn’t have to bother with interacting with other people and gets himself a pretty wife

Oh my god 💞

König wanting to wed and bed her the minute she arrives by train... She thought he would court her for a while before they marry, she thought they would do this decently, that they would get to know each other first, she’d rent an apartment from the small town and then decide if she wanted to live with him…

But he says everything’s settled, he already took care of everything, they’re getting married today and spend their wedding night in the saloon before leaving for his settlement tomorrow.

She’s too bewildered to even speak, so it's no wonder she gets herded to the altar right away, a pretty, meek little bride is just what König ordered! Gets wed to this giant hulking gold digger while still wearing her traveling clothes, the priest only looks drunk and bored as she peeps her vows. The man she's now wed to looks down at her with unbridled affection and curiosity, but soon enough, she catches him eyeing her waistline, her bust, the corset she wears feeling tighter still by his indecent stare.

He's far from a gentleman, and dresses like a weather-worn cowboy, and she suspected as much from the way he wrote and how unpolished his handwriting was. But at least he seems kind. If anything, he's smitten that she’s not some old hag who deceived him by claiming to be an unmarried young lady, that she is everything and more he wished for based on the few letters they exchanged.

The wedding is over in a few minutes, and there’s no coffee and cake, no party under some big tree, no relatives or friends to congratulate her on her wedding day. There’s only this huge, intimidating man who looks at her like she just dropped down from heavens, his eyes slowly sparking aflame with both softness and lust.

He takes her to the saloon to eat, and then she finds herself in a greasy little room upstairs, changing into her white nightgown, getting ready to sleep and only sleep, but her nightmare of a day is not over yet. Her hand flies over her mouth, she nearly screams as she turns around and finds this horrible man of lowly European descent thoroughly naked behind her.

She’s in so much trouble, that much was certain from the minute he saw this man, but seeing his… equipment in the dim candle light of the old saloon is too much after everything she's gone through. She's verily about to faint.

It’s just her luck to dream of adventures and a happy, exciting new life and then find herself thrown into the arms of some barbaric, foreign giant... He said he’s looking for a companion in life and hinted at being a little lonely, but men who wish to court a lady don’t do it like this: by dragging them to the altar and then presenting their cocks to them before even two hours have passed!

The rowdy noise of cancan downstairs is a filthy backdrop to seeing a naked man for the first time in her life, and she never knew male parts could be so... big. Or jumpy. Or leaky... This man is clearly serious about this commitment, and thinks there’s no need to get to know each other, she’s his wife now and they need to consummate the marriage right away.

He’s breathing heavily while grabbing that weeping weapon in his fist, telling her she’s more beautiful than he ever even imagined. He pleasures himself slowly while watching her try to cover herself in her thin, faintly translucent gown, and she still can't find any words – the man is behaving like a scoundrel or a highwayman, not at all like the sharp dressed, eloquent gentlemen she's grown used to in the city. The slick sounds of lewd fapping are accompanied by moans of how she’s the answer to all his prayers, and her hair stands on end, she feels like she’s walking on tar here in the distant frontier with nothing but greedy men and drunken brothel keepers around her, now face to face with a giant, throbbing cock out of all things...

She coldly orders him to sleep on the floor while she takes the bed – she’s not letting this nasty, hairy beast near her anytime soon, not when she still has her wits about her. Defeated when she won’t let him “consummate their love” tonight, the man withdraws to sleep on the floor with a sullen groan and a long sigh.

She never sleeps a wink that night in fear of finding him by her side, groping his way through her dress, but to her surprise this man only snores on the floor as if he's used to sleeping there.

Civilization is far away when he leads her to his shack the next day and shows her the first small specks of gold he has found, apologizing for the state of his abode so unkempt and unclean. She has to give it to him that he's indeed kind and doesn’t want to make her suffer unduly, because the table and the bench are wiped in a hurry before she sits down, as if she’s a queen visiting a humble subject. He makes her a bath next to the fire and washes in the water after her, giving her flirty, promising smiles throughout the whole splashy ordeal.

Before long, the giant cock is presented to her again as the man excitedly waits for permission to take her, telling her he has never seen anything like her, that she makes his heart run wild.

The only thing running wild in her sour opinion is his cock, bouncing up and down from the need to be inside her, nearly leaking seed on the floor she suspects she has to wash and scrub tomorrow anyhow as his wife. Evening after evening, she rejects his advances, but after a week or two, her will breaks.

She tells herself it’s only out of pity that she lets him finally crawl over her and lift her gown, that it’s only to stop the man from spiraling into madness that she allows him to test how nicely that thick, leaky cock glides through her folds.

“You’re wet, Sonnenschein,” he pants with happy excitement when she notices her swollen, sloppy state, then plunges his cock deep into his wet little prize with a filthy moan. He tells her she’s tight and hot, and takes her like she’s some kind of an angelic whore, falls panting all over her breasts when he’s sated and done, says that she’s his salvation and that he’ll do anything to make her feel at home here.

She feels exactly like a desperate mail order bride, lured here with the promise of a good life and gold, but when she starts to wait for him to come home instead of dreading the end of the day, that's when her hell truly begins.

It just won't do to start wanting him, to trick her heart to be content with whatever this is. To enjoy his "love" would be even more shameful than anything else so far. The truth of the matter is that she's tormented by a lustful, wild man who takes her on her knees or on her stomach like an animal while moaning about how tight she is, how soft she is, how he can’t concentrate at work because of her.

But when he groans that he loves her just before he cums, she feels a distant sting near her heart, a burst of a small bonfire somewhere in her gut from his words. Far from romantic, but so authentic and pure they’re ripped out of him with a pathetic, cry-like moan.

And just when her heart is about to turn and grow full with softness, he barges in and takes her standing, needy after work, deciding that she looks far too alluring while stirring the stew over the fire. His sunshine of a wife waiting for him with warm food and a soft little cunt, it's exactly like it was always meant to be in his dreams... He’s kind and attentive, but doesn’t know a thing about ladies and that they’re not supposed to be taken by the fire like this, but the dramatic pout on her lips turns into a helpless grimace before this animal has given her three full thrusts.

And it’s only by accident, she tells herself, that it happens. It’s only a coincidence that she finds herself short of breath and shivering, then crying with pleasure from the way his cock sails inside her, hasty and needy as if she’s nothing but a momentary relief for this man.

But she knows she’s far from that. He always stays after the hurried lovemaking – if you could call it that – swallows and tells her things that are supposed to be sweet, perhaps. He whispers loving nonsense in her ear with a stupid, quivering voice, tells her that she’s so tight he’s about to lose his mind. That she brightens up his life and makes this shack a home, a palace, even. That he wants to give her children and grow old together.

She prays the heavens to save her from such a future, but when she accidentally comes with his cock inside her, the man breaks down entirely. Repeats the awful, pathetic “I love you” until he comes, too, and sounds like a man who's getting his sould ripped apart from his bones. It’s sinful lunacy what he’s doing to her in that shack, and dares to sprinkle it with love out of all things, and she doesn’t know if she hates him, or if she loves him too.

Annulling this marriage is nearly impossible, and the sooner he gets her pregnant, the sooner she’s even more trapped, just like the poor rabbits this man lures into the snares placed around the shack. He spends every little speck of gold to buy her silks, satins and gowns, proper woolen scarves and soft little leather shoes, gives her a gentle kiss every morning before he leaves to wash gold. Every evening after meal, he praises her cooking skills and then takes her on the creaking old bed like she's a common whore. The silly, girlish dreams of being whisked away by a mysterious, romantic gentleman are somewhere far away when this giant spills his seed inside her with a thick, arduous groan, then proceeds to cover her in kisses too sweaty and hot.

“I know you don’t love me,” he whispers between the one-sided sucking and nibbling that’s about to make her cry. “But I will make you happy... I swear it, on my life.”

She can only stare at the ceiling, filled with the dancing flames of the fire as he falls asleep with his cock still inside her, the soft snore on her breasts both happy and sad.

#könig x you #könig smut #könig x reader #mail order bride #gold rush au #könig angst

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greyfics · 1 month

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even if it's handcuffed, I'm leaving here with you.

- °•. ✦ .•° -

pairing: the ghoul (cooper howard) x reader fic type: enemies to lovers, no smut, mild spice + eventual fluff slow burn meter: ◈◈◇◇◇ word count: 3.8K inspo: TPD lyric prompt list, reblogged on main reader type: assumed wastelander background, gender neutral, 'I don't need a knight to save me', assumed negative views of BoS, assumed gun for hire cw: strong language, violence, reference to fictional drugs, mild dismemberment summary: reader is a gun for hire who has gotten themselves into a bit of trouble in the form of a moderate bounty with a local segment of the brotherhood- and cooper howard knows he can get all the drugs he needs for what seems like an easy job.

- °•. ✦ .•° -

"We can do this all day, darlin'. Even if it's handcuffed, I'm leavin' here with you." you feel the pressure of a pistol barrel pressing against the base of your skull from behind, and a disgruntled, defeated sigh slips through your lips. The game is up- you're out of ammo, down to the ripper hanging from your side, and 'gun against the brain-cage' is the indisputable checkmate.

Up to this point, you'd been pretty successful in shaking off the swathes of bounty hunters and jet-scrounging raiders that'd been on your tale since you became an enemy to the brotherhood- which, nowadays, seemed to be a pretty fucking easy feat to accomplish. The rusty knights were getting a little big for their oversized, several-tonne boots- and you had never been a fan of self-asserting authorities using their power in the name of 'order', especially not when they could hardly organise their own little sectors across the expansive, sparse remains of the USA.

As good with a revolver as you are, today it seems your luck has ran out and your karma has caught up with you, because you've finally met your match in a ghoul with a face so smug you wish you at least had a chance to slap it before losing the game of cat and mouse you'd been playing for a couple days now across Junktown. Your face collides into concrete and a quick click combines with the feel of steel against your wrists, The Ghoul's threat having evolved into a promise.

You spit a ball of blood and saliva from your mouth, wrought up by the hard impact with the ground below, "Alright, you win this round you freak- I'll come with you, just get these off of me." You hear a smirk from above, "Now how stupid do you fuckin' think I am? No, I gave you a chance to come willingly, you chose to shoot me in the leg. Lucky I ain't returned the favour." He gives you a light, sharp kick in the side with the tip of his boot, "Up. We got a long way to travel, and sooner we get there, sooner I get paid. I'll be reminding you now that I only get a bonus for bringing you alive, so make my life hell and I'll live without the extra caps." "Not exactly easy when my-" you hear the chick of a safety being cocked, and awkwardly shuffle back until you can jut sharply up onto your knees and slowly stand, turning to glare daggers into your now captor. The Ghoul's expression remains stiffly affixed with the wry, smug facade he bears: relaxed, squinting eyes peeking out above a thin, ever-upturned lip- you swear to yourself to you'll smack that smile off his face- but by all accounts, beneath the withered, decaying skin that had festered in his ghoulish transformation, the man had the stature (and admittedly, the jawline) of a filmstar.

You shake off the irritable possibility of monster like this getting lucky with the gene pool as a calloused hand secures a vice grip on one of your wrists and tugs you in suit as it's owner sets into motion, dragging you away from the remnants of an old civilisation and towards a military base miles away you are all too acquainted with.

You had been so caught up in the wild ride of adrenaline that came with being on the lamb that you briefly detached yourself from the catalyst of the chase- but as concrete and clay inevitably crumbles away to distant sandy dunes and cacti, the dread stirs in your stomach like a plague. It was easier to wave off the consequences of your actions when you weren't being marched towards the gallows to face them- it wasn't like you made an attack on the organisation. You kill one knight trashing up a town in the name of redundant technology, and suddenly you're on a hit-list. You know The Ghoul probably doesn't know this, and you know for certain that even if you tried to give the man a sob story he wouldn't care. This was it. "You about to be sick?" You snap from your pessimistic daze at the sudden interruption of silence, "No. Why?" "You look like you just ate a mouldy iguana, that's why- and I don't want sick on my boots." You let out an irked groan, and sharply snap your head to face the horizon in the opposite direction to your captor. You hope this will satiate his sour jabs for the time being-

Your hope is crushed five minutes later.

"Go on then. I'm bored shitless and I'm outta jet, so spill." He says with an almost theatrical exasperation in his voice, "Spill what, exactly?" you coldly respond in a mute tone, focus still fixed on the horizon to the west, "Well what's the big story? Someone's always gotta be the victim when they got a bounty on their head, so what's the tragic tale behind 'Y/N', huh?" the muscles in your neck and shoulders tense up at the mention of your name- you weren't exactly a known associate or long-time rival to the brotherhood, and the wanted poster you had wrestled from the stiff fingertips of a raider last week only had a sketch and a scrawled account of the incident. You falter for a moment before replying, but ardently avoid taking the bait, "If your plan is to get me to tell you how we got to where we are right now just so you can mock me, then I think I'd rather carry on enjoying the view, if you don't mind." The sweet-toned sarcasm at the end of your sentence seeps with venom, and the hostility it implies does not slip away from your adversary.

This time, his laugh is a soft, whisper of a chuckle- something spiteful, foreboding- followed by matching words, "You should hear what your little community had to say about you for a couple caps and a promise not to shoot anybody- well, anybody else-" his words cut into something personal, then- and though you would normally know that attacking someone with your hands cuffed behind your back is never going to end in your favour, at this moment you couldn't care less as you swing your leg round in a swift roundhouse motion, and raise your knee towards the only place you can think to leave a mark-

You hit your target, but instead of howls of pain you are met with a split second of awkward silence as the ghoul cocks his head, unimpressed, before slamming it into your own, sending you staggering back a few paces-

Before you can reorient your vision, a heavy dull force plummets into your ribs- the sand cushions your blow slightly better than the concrete you met face-to-face with an hour ago, at least. Your arms, however, are not grateful to be pressed beneath you as a familiar, withered hand pushes into your throat, putting as much pressure on your trapped limbs when your upper body presses back as it does on your esophagus, halting your air supply as he lowers himself down to a kneel and fixes your gaze onto his,

"If I wasn't already a walking corpse, that could've really hurt- not a very nice thing to do to someone just tryna have a little bit of light conversation now, is it?" All you can do is glower through eyes blinded by the sun, which gleams behind the shadow of the ghoul's head, bearing on it a smile tweaked with frustration- you need to breathe- you can't keep this up, your heartbeat is louder than the sun in your eyes and-

The pressure releases. You turn your head to the ground and suck in air between dry, heavy coughs, and after you've finally steadied your breath, you find a minor fleck of relief in being hoisted up from the ground this time instead of scrabbling to get up at gunpoint. You wonder, perhaps, if this is some small act driven by guilt- perhaps this man had a conscience once and a set of values beyond doing what it takes to ensure one's own survival. You were a gun for hire yourself, so it would be hypocritical to criticise your captor for his line of work- mostly, you preferred to stick with jobs guarding merchant caravans and to take out bands of raiders harassing the cities you passed through, but you never questioned the legitimacy of the requests you received, or the cargo you oversaw; you had settled for a little while, having stuck around the same little settlement for a few years now and had started to develop some semblance of a connection to the people there-

or so you thought.

You know you're going to be walking for a while- so with a resigned breath, you begin saying what little there is left to say about your present situation, "Well, you probably know most of what I can tell you from the sounds of things, but I guess there's nothing else for me to do right now, and the horizon is the same no matter where you go around here. I guess you could say we're in similar lines of work, but that's not really what got me in trouble with The Brotherhood. They think they can rock up in a power armour with a logo on it and wreak havoc as they please because it's for 'the greater good', but they leave towns half-destroyed when they pass through. I didn't want that to happen to... well, I didn't like the sound of that happening where I was. So, dude gets out of his power armour and starts waving guns around screaming about some piece of pre war tech or the other, and I tell him with... a strong choice of words, to get going. He starts running for the power armour, guns blazing- and I just have better aim, I guess. Not even like I got paid for killing him, either. Maybe that would've made this whole thing a little bit sweeter."

Your profession leaves a silence hanging in the air for a little while after, but it feels appropriate. The dunes filter sand from the far west to respond to your story- the horizon quivers, but only through the illusion of heat; the sand dries your eyes before they have reason to shed tears. A loaded sigh escapes the ghoul in front of you, and the clasp on your wrist softens but for a moment before stiffening to pull you onwards, "Yep, well, caps keep you going a little longer round these parts, but money can't solve all your problems." "You should tell that to the Brotherhood. They seem to be doing pretty well for all the wealth they've hoarded- can even pay big time bounty hunters to do their shitwork from the looks of things." You retort, but after a moment follow up with, "Wish I could say I was upset about it but hell, if I were you, I'd turn me in too."

You hear that soft chuckle again, but when you turn around to catch a look at the face that matches it, you see relaxed muscles and a far-off stare- he won't let you go, but he has let his guard down but a little bit- perhaps when we get closer to my story's end, he'll even let me walk to my death with my hands unbound.

- °•. ✦ .•° -

After trudging on in silence for a while, head bowed to your fatalistic contemplations, you find as you drag yourself out of the pit in your head and look over the horizon once more that the scene has changed: the atomic orange dewdrops spattering the sky not long ago have quickly to faded into a bruised overhanging shadow of violent, lavender, crimson; twilight approaches, and you're still surrounded by desert hills and illusions.

One of these illusory quivers catches your sharp eye, a dark blip that has appeared somewhere in that distance; it's moving, but it isn't close enough for you to determine whether it's just a trick of the heat or whether it's something heading in your direction. Your brow furrows, but you say nothing yet.

Within a minute, the object comes into better focus- or, rather, the creature. Your heart skips a beat, and you open your mouth to utter some kind of warning, managing to rasp, "Get the handcuffs off of me." "Now, darlin', I thought we managed to get past this already-" "No-" You tug your bound wrists, pulling the ghoul into your side- his other arm steadies itself against your shoulder before slipping up to your jaw and dragging it to face him, his own clenched and unaccompanied by a smile this time- the pallid complexion of your own face gives him enough pause for you to blurt in a fruitless, strained whisper, "Deathclaw."

If The Ghoul's skin could have paled more than it already had in his lifeless state, then it might have at that moment. The tight grip holding you against him slackens completely and you thud onto your ass as he draws his guns and casts you a playfully pitiful glance from above, shrugging and saying, "Sorry, darlin', guess I forgot to pick up the keys." He steps in front of you as a curse rips out of your throat in the sudden panic that ensues, and you try to muster enough brain cells in this moment to figure out a way of not dying, prematurely, and becoming just another skeletal curio.

There's the back-up plan, the 'if shit goes south' plan that you still hadn't gone through with because of the possible dismemberment that it might entail- but you had not been unarmed when you had been restrained earlier, and the phantom hum of a ripper blade always strapped to your waist as your last resort. You won't be able to wield it with any competence with your hands restrained as they are, but you can hit the power button from your current position-

Though, usually, you'd prefer to do it when the blade was already in your hand, not digging into the side of your leg.

shredded leg is better than deathclaw snack. Your astute analysis confirms your decision, and with a grunt and a whack, the blade starts chugging into a steady whirring action by the will of the dregs of an energy cell embedded inside- the next couple of seconds are far too long.

The blade begins it's excursion into your thigh as the gunslinging ghoul whips around at the sound, eyes wide at the sudden display of spraying crimson. You scream, struggle to try to align the cuffs without jerking your shoulders out of place. The deathclaw bounds into the mid-distance, closing in upon it's approach- it caught your scent before you could even see it's silhouette-

The tip disappears as your leg reflexively jerks, responding to the dancing jig of the chainsaw blade- you see pathetic sparks as the thing bounces off of the cuffs- strong enough to sever a leg, too rusted and battered to cut through metal. Your plan is failing. Your leg is bleeding. The cowboy falters as the deathclaw closes further-

You make a snap decision: fingers are easier to fix than legs.

You twist your wrist, and the pain just melts into the already existing burn emanating from your leg- a bloody, three-fingered stump slips from it's cage, and you swing your still-cuffed hand around in a fluid movement to drag the ripper from its sheath within your leg, snapping the cord that ties it to your waist-

You hear a frenzied firing of a revolver, but the approaching thunks are unimpeded- and though you know your leg may give way when the adrenaline finally dies, and though you know you need to find the two fingers you lost before sand vipers snatch them up and you're known as three-fingered y/n for the rest of your life- you launch yourself from the ground on your good leg, and stagger towards the approaching beast.

You grew up in the wastelands. You grew up in a settlement up here that, like any of the rest, was constantly plagued by critters and beasts- and if you were taught anything by the survivors that surrounded you, it was the following:

If you can't blow the bastard up, get 'em in the belly.

The deathclaw- a baby, thankfully- has it's gaze fixated on the man that had in the past half a minute become it's primary aggressor- so when you stumble forward, low and bleeding, with what to the creature is just another indistinguishable bit of metal in your hands, it does not see reason to change the track of it's jump.

As it launches itself above you, you pray to lady luck that you hit your mark.

An ear-splitting yowl and a sudden muffled crash tells you she's listening, for once.

Finally, after a few ragged breaths, the adrenaline wears off and you feel the weight of your body pressing into the wounds that liberated you- and the blueberry sky fades to black as you become weightless. This time, your fall is of your own accord- and this time, something stops you from hitting the ground.

- °•. ✦ .•° -

When you come to, you do not open your eyes at first- awake though you might be, your body is heavy with exhaustion. Before your encounter with the ghoul, you had been on the run for weeks, and in the last twenty four hours had not had time to stay put long enough to sleep. Coupled with the rough journey and the blood loss, you couldn't move if you wanted to. That being said, in those few dark minutes, a few things of note still catch your attention.

There is a faint crackling to your side, and the lulling warmth of a fire that brushes in waves against your face- and though you feel the silky grains of sand cushioning most of your resting body, your head lays higher up, neck leaning up to a more elevated surface- your attention snaps to the light sensation of fingertips absently grazing your neck in a repeating pattern, and the distant hum of an old country song embedded into muscle memory. The surrounding sensations are a strange comfort for all the brutal imagery this post apocalyptic world usually beholds; but it is brief, as your neck tenses, giving away your lucidity. The hand pauses, lifts- settles somewhere to the side.

When you dare to open your eyes, you are unsurprised to see the question-begging smirk and sharp eyes peering down from above, "Have a good nap?" You bolt upright, and immediately regret it when the bending of your leg snags one of the stitches you didn't know had been sewed into you until just now. Defeated, you flop back down, turning your head to the side to gaze into the dying embers of the fire beside you- praying you can brush off the flush of blush creeping into your face to the influence of the fire. Eventually you garner the courage to speak, "Feels like I've only been out for an hour." He snorts, shaking his head, "You went down around sunset, and it'll be sunrise in a couple hours." This catches you by surprise, and not just because of the amount of time you've lost, "What happened to getting your caps as soon as possible? Lost a lot of time waiting." He frowns, but does not lose his grin, "You trying to get yourself killed? 'Cos you've done a damn fine job of that so far. No, I've just been doing some thinking." "Congratulations. I'm proud of you." His eyes narrow into slits and he tuts at your sarcasm, following your gaze into the fire, "See, it could be argued that I would've been minced ghoul splattered n' buried six feet under the dunes if you hadn't gone all psycho slicing yourself up like that to get that baby deathclaw where it hurts." "That was a baby?-" "Anyway, guess my point is I might be willing to do a lot of things, but I still got my principles- only human thing I got left, probably. So I'd say I owe it you to not kill you at least. When you can walk, we'll go east to- well, to what's left of Shady Sands, and then you can do whatever the fuck you want."

You consider his words, and not knowing how to express appreciation or what to begin to make of this mysterious stranger and his obscure appeal, you find yourself rejecting this suggestion, though you don't know why- and so naturally, you dig yourself into a hole, "Well, you could also say that I would have died of blood loss if you didn't stitch my leg up." He studies you then for a minute, before shrugging and clasping your hands together at the wrists. You begin to stammer indecipherable protest and with a smirk he pulls you up, your hands still held rigid in your lap by his own, his head resting on your shoulder as he murmurs, "Now, I'm starting to get the impression you want me to march you up to our friends at the brotherhood just to keep my company." If he can't see the warm hue in your face now, he can certainly feel the heat flushing through your flustered face- you fight against the feeling, if only to make sure you stand a chance of winning this little exchange,

"Says the man who watched me sleep all night." You feel him shrug your comment off as his grin extends, "I might look like a monster, but I was a gentleman once upon a time. Like I say, I got principles." He lets you slip forward out of his grasp when you move to shuffle yourself around. As you do, you feel for the first time you are looking at him properly, sincerely- face to face, on equal grounds, with no threats of death or necessary facades of false confidence. After soaking in as much as you allow yourself to without losing yourself to curiosity entirely, you crossing your arms across your chest, and reply,

"Well, I have principles too- and if you're oh so graciously not turning me into the brotherhood then I still I owe you, so I guess I'll just have to stick around until you nearly get yourself killed again- that's all. No other reason." The ghoul rises, resting a hand on his pistol,

"You tell yourself that, darlin'- I'm gonna enjoy this change of scenery, I think."

#greyfics ✰°.• ➸ [ 01 ]#greyfics ✰°.• ➸ [ cooper howard ]#greyfics ✰°.• ➸ [ fallout ]#greyfics ✰°.• ➸ [ x reader ]#cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x you #fallout fanfic #cooper howard fanfic #the ghoul fanfic #x reader #greyfics #fallout tv series #I know that the way I used the lyric does not match the lyric but hey don't knock the weird literal train of inspiration #may rewrite to polish a couple details nagging at me but have put way too much time into fidgeting around with the words for now hehe #also I feel like this definitely has second part potential if I want to divvy into it in the future so #note to self for that one

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pablitogavii · 1 month

Note

Could you write one Gavi fic where he's talking to her through social media, just as friends, but he starts to develop feelings for her, his agent finds out and gets really worried about his career if he gets in a relationship, so he "makes" Gavi's mind to get away from the reader (she has abandonment and rejection issues) without a proper explanation, he excuses saying that the reader wants his money and whatever. But some months after the reader moves to Seville and gets really close to Aurora (she knows Aurora is Gavi's sister but Aurora doesn't know her), and one day Aurora takes her to a barca match, and Gavi tries to make up to her?

I guess I'm back y'all lol! I like this idea very much!

y.n.bebe

New York, USA

I think I like this little life...happy birthday to me hehe

liked by pablogavi and others

coments:

brimccormix: happy birthday bebsss

y.n.bebe: thank you gorgeous girl💗

stacymiggs: princesaaa

y.n.bebe: nooo youuu!🥺

brianfereda: happy birthday!

y.n.bebe: thank youu!

pablogavi: pretty girl

y.n.bebe: 😳

When you saw that THE Pablo Gavi called you "pretty girl" for the whole world to see, you couldn't stop staring at that comment for the next two weeks.

Your friends went crazy calling you lucky, and pushing you to send him a message but you were obviously too shy to do that. Besides, who knows how many "pretty girls" he's talking to on the internet.

Meanwhile, Gavi spent all of his free time and training brakes going through your posts and smiling like an idiot at your cute face on his phone screen.

When you first popped up on his screen, he just had to reach out and pray you don't find it cocky on his part. You were just so pretty...

"Sempre con esa nena, cabrón! Dale! Enviale un mensaje!"Pedri hit Gavi's head making him groan and finally get the balls to slide into your DMs. He said a simple "hey pretty girl" before leaving his phone in the locker room to join his teammates.

pablogavi: hey, pretty girl

y.n.bebe: hey😊

And ever since that night, you've started texting, face timing and chatting non stop. You haven't told anyone about it, not wanting to make a drama over something so new and also not wanting him to think fame is what you're after because it's not.

"I'm so tired, nena" Pablo groaned while laying in bed and face timing you as you did your math homework diligently.

"Then go to bed, tonto!" you giggle and he just stayed quiet staring at your face until you looked back at the phone screen and blushed at how intense his gaze was.

"Me gusta cuando hablas Español conmigo, bebé" he smirked making you blush bright red and roll your eyes pretending to be annoyed.

"When do you have training in the morning?" you ask while he yawns.

"Five am" he answers and you open your eyes wide really looking up to him being so diligent about his career.

"Then you really should get some sleep, and we can talk tomorrow again hm?" you ask not really wanting to end the call but also wanting him to get his rest. He always loved how selfless you are and how much you took care of him. It really warmed his hearts.

"I hate it that you're so far! I swear I'm gonna travel to New York and kidnap you and bring you back to Barcelona with me ... and never let you go ..." he said sleepily and you felt your heart jumping thinking about the possibility.

"Hm and if you get bored of me?" you smile and he shakes his head still staring intently at you in the eyes.

"Impossible, my pretty girl..." he said and you smile remembering the very first time you read those words on the screen.

Pablo Gavi was a man of his words, and since that conversation he promised himself that he will surprise you with a travel to Barcelona really soon. He planed everything and mailed you a ticket during his two week vacation.

He still remembers the nerves while standing at the airport waiting at your gate to see your pretty face finally in person. The moment you walked out he recognized you...he couldn't forget the pretty face he stared at through the screen for past four months just now it was real.

"Hi, pretty girl..." he said again and you jumped into his eyes smiling wide and holding onto him tightly. You couldn't believe this was real yet. It just felt like a dream.

"Ready to explore Barcelona conmigo huh?" he said and you smiled and taking his hand nodding and walking to him car with your baggage.

Days passed so quickly and everything was PERFECT. Ice cream dates, walks on the beach, coffee shops and all the infamous tourist attractions...you were falling in love with this city...and you were also falling in love with this boy.

Day before your flight home, Pablo took you to a football game for the Juvenil and you were excited to watch it with him knowing it was his passion.

"So what do you think?" you show him your Barça jersey and he so badly wanted to ask you to wear one with his name on the back but how could he? He still didn't have the balls to ask you to be his official girlfriend!

y.n.bebe

Barcelona, Spain

it's so pretty here 🥺😊

liked by pablogavi, pedri, joaofelix and others

comments:

pablogavi: pretty girl in barcelona 😍

y.n.bebe: hehe😊

brimccormix: girl!!?? spill the TEA!

y.n.bebe: what tea???

lucasmith: looks like someone stole my crush!

y.n.bebe: 😂

"Next time I come, I want to watch you play..." you said while the two of you sat sadly on the airport waiting for your boarding.

"Y/n..." he said looking down as you looked up

"Hm?" you say feeling your heart beating fast from how close your lips were to each other.

"Don't go..."he said and you swore your heart broke when you saw his pleading eyes. Neither of you wanted this distance...it was so unfair but there was nothing you could do about it now.

"Pablo we're friends now and you can visit me in New York..." you said but before you could finish his lips were smashed onto yours to shut you up and you closed your eyes enjoying the sweet sensation of his cold minty lips on your.

"Do you want to be my girlfriend, pretty girl?" he said and in that moment all your past insecurities and abandonment issues returned yelling inside your head. What if you get attached and he disappears like other did? You were so scared but looking at him it was impossible not to agree!

"Yes! I do Pablo..." you say and he kissed you again until they called for your flight to start boarding in five minutes.

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fayes-fics · 4 months

Text

When The World Is Free: Chapter 5 - Sans Y Penser

MASTERPOST PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: none really... mildly angsty situations, some flirting and interesting proposals.

Word Count: 2.9k

Author’s Note: Multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl! Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. HERE BE PLOT. A lot of things happen in this one afternoon. Thanks to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy!

Le Havre, September 1939

The port city of Le Havre is bustling with travellers hauling suitcases and steamer trunks, all walks of life converging on this point of exit. You weave through the crowds from the train station as a trio, headed for the bright red awnings of the company sailing to the USA. Benedict and Eloise hang back as you approach the ticket window.

“Name?” the brusque man in the booth opens with a crisp American accent.

“Y/n y/l/n,” you smile politely.

“You are not on the manifest,” he sighs after a pause to scan down the paperwork, impatience colouring his tone.

“But I must be,” you frown, “I was given this here…”

You push your ticket under the window, clearly marked with today’s date.

“Fraudsters,” his economic response.

“But… they were from your company? Outside your offices in Paris? And wearing your company livery? They… They said I could bring forward my sailing date from August to today. They took my original ticket and gave me this! It looks the same!” Panic rises in your voice with each sentence, dread churning behind your ribs as you realise you have likely been duped.

“I'm sorry, ma’am, but that is not a valid ticket,” is his monotone reply.

“Oh god. What can I do? May I buy another ticket now?!?”

His responding laugh is a loud bark, “Hah! Ma’am, we are booked up for weeks in advance. There is a long line every day of people hoping for last-minute availability,” he signals to a line of weary-looking, luggage-laden folks under a makeshift shelter.

“But I….” you feel your eyes watering and dread in the pit of your stomach like you are falling down an endless chasm.

“Ma’am, please step aside; I need to ensure valid passengers can board this ship…” he warns in a tone that is wholly without sympathy.

With a weak nod, you stumble away, back towards Benedict and Eloise. As you draw closer, their faces are a picture of concern, realising something is amiss. As you tearfully recount what happened, Benedict seethes, and Eloise wraps her arm around you, looking pained.

“I’m going up there. This is unacceptable!” Benedict grits out, righteous indignation fizzing from his very being.

You have to hold out a hand to physically stop him. “It's likely no use,” you appease.

His ire deflates a fraction at your hold on his coat sleeve. “At least let me try, y/n,” he modifies after a few beats.

“Alright,” you relent, dropping your hand, “but I do not expect a different answer.”

You and Eloise cling to each other as you watch Benedict remonstrate with the same man and then a different one at the window. All the while, your stomach is in knots, equal parts fear and hope.

It's five or more minutes before Benedict returns to you, his face pinched.

“I was not successful,” he screws his mouth, looking away as if he cannot meet your eye as he says it. “They don't seem to care that criminals are posing as agents for their organisation,” he rubs his eyebrow in irritation. “I would report it to the police, but it's not their jurisdiction here, and it still does not solve our dilemma…”

“Thank you anyway…” you breathe, “for trying at least…”

There is a long silence as the three of you stand there, stupified by the conundrum before you. The chime of a clock on the harbour building breaks your thoughts.

“It's 3pm. Your sailing back to England is in less than an hour. You should go. You two leave without me,” you demure.

“NO!” they both exclaim in almost comic sibling unison.

“I’ll be fine, seriously.”

“I’m not leaving you alone here for god knows how long until there is room on a ship to America. You can’t be alone. This isn’t Paris; this is a port city. It’s definitely not safe,” Eloise rattles off, looking at you imploringly.

“She’s right,” Benedict concurs. “You were safe in Paris together before the war. You are not safe here. A beautiful young woman. You are a target for thieves or even worse. You cannot stay here alone.”

You try your hardest not to let Benedict calling you beautiful derail your whole thought train, but it’s futile. Your mind is scattered like a pile of wooden toy railway coaches.

“I... I could return to Paris?” You finally suggest after what feels like an eternity of buffering. “I could call to check for last-minute availability every morning. It’s only a couple of hours by train. I’ll be always packed and ready to go…” you argue, not as yet realising the naivety behind your own idea.

“Paris will be the first target for Hitler’s invasion,” Benedict says gravely. “It could be much worse to remain there…”

“So what am I to do? I’m damned if I do, and I’m damned if I don’t…”

“There is only one solution, and that is for us to remain here as well until you can secure passage out of the country,” Benedict shrugs.

“Agreed,” Eloise nods emphatically as you go to protest.

“There are many more sailings back to England, and tickets are easier to come by,” Benedict points out. “We can move our tickets up. At least by a few days until we can devise a plan.”

“Wait… if there are no ships to America, why don't you come to England with us?” Eloise pipes up in a lightbulb moment.

“I have nowhere I could stay…”

“Nonsense! You will stay with us at Aubrey Hall. Won’t she, Benedict?”

“Oh yes, of course. There are plenty of spare rooms,” he assures.

“Gosh, umm... Maybe? I…” you hesitate. The whiplash of the last few minutes and the generosity of their offer momentarily overwhelm you. “That's very generous of you. The problem is I don’t know for how long it would be, or even if I should. My parents only agreed to me living in Paris under the watchful eye of Solene. This… this is entirely other…”

You startle as Benedict places his hands on your shoulders, pulling your attention to his sincere expression. “Y/n, you need to worry less about what your family thinks and more about yourself - what you need and your safety. This is escaping impending war; it’s a completely different circumstance from how you arrived here. The decisions you make right now have to be selfish and unburdened by expectations. It’s easy for others to judge from the distance of safety. But look around you. This town is teeming with people clambering to leave the country before an invasion. We do what we have to in unpredictable circumstances to survive.”

“You sound like a soldier,” you murmur.

“It’s what my father was,” he replies, releasing his grip but not moving away. “As a very young man in The Great War. He was lucky to survive, being an officer away from the front lines, but he taught me many things before he died. And one was about always making the smart choice if you can see one, even if it feels uncomfortable. The smart choice here is to escape by any means necessary. We all know Hitler has his sights set on France, especially Paris, as the figurative and cultural capital of Europe. You must get out. You must come with us.” You are captivated by his hazy eyes as he speaks, your heart beating fast as his face and voice grow softer. “Please. I could not live with myself if we left you behind,” he admits in a much quieter tone, but the plea is no less impassioned.

You cannot help it. You stare up at him, transfixed. Stanley has never been so eloquent. Or indeed so invested in your well-being.

“Alright…” your hesitancy soft, “but you must let me pay you for my ticket…”

His face seems to light up at your acquiescence. “One day… maybe,” he smiles.

And so that is what he does - leaves you and Eloise ensconced in a nice bistro overlooking the harbour with a large bottle of white wine as he walks over to the ticket office for the ferry company and swaps their tickets for a few days hence and purchases an additional ticket for you, steadfastly refusing to tell you the cost for it even for many weeks hence.

While you are in the ladies' room, Eloise strikes up a conversation with a young man in uniform at the adjacent table; you fondly roll your eyes as you retake your seat and leave them be. Your gaze, however, is never far from the window, to where Benedict last left your line of sight, somehow anxious for his return. When he reappears, striding purposefully towards the cafe, your chest flutters hard, his coat swishing around his legs, his hat at an attractive slant. If there is one thing you swear you could spend a lifetime doing, it’s watching Benedict Bridgerton just… be.

“Any luck?” you ask as he arrives and doffs his hat, taking a seat on your other side, throwing an exasperated glance at his little sister and the uniformed man.

“We are set to sail Thursday,” he smiles and signals for the waiter, ordering a glass of Beaujolais. “I also stopped in the post office to call Solene. She has said we can stay as long as we need to at her sister’s cottage a few miles from town.”

“Oh, that's wonderful news!” your shoulders relax for the first time in what feels like hours. “But wait, I remember she said there is only one bedroom,” you point out. “You’ve been sleeping on our sofa for days now… you deserve a bed. I’ll take the sofa…”

“No. Also, I’m not sharing a bed with my sister,” he shudders, “she kicks in her sleep!”

“Oh, thanks. So I guess you want me to have bruised shins, then??” You laugh with gusto, the ricochet day making all your emotions heightened, seemingly bouncing from one extreme to another. Right now, a strange bubble of joy at this lighthearted exchange.

“Not at all. In fact, I’d happily share with you instead to save your legs from the abuse!”

You know it’s said in jest, the comedic relief of the moment evident on his face, but still, a shot fires in your chest at the thought of sharing a bed with him. You decide to make light of it, even as your heart quickens.

“How do I know this kicking is not a problem that runs in the family? And you’re way stronger than her!”

“You can tie me down if it would make you feel better!” he chuckles loudly.

You flush all over, the very thought so beguiling yet scandalous. And yet you cannot stop your mouth running away with you, this flirtatious banter too tasty to resist, the wine you’ve been drinking far too quickly for the last half hour loosening your lips.

“I think you would enjoy that far too much, Mr Bridgerton,” you volley back, raising an eyebrow with a giggle.

His cheeks turn the most adorable shade of pink even as his eyes dilate rapidly, a corner of his tongue flicking out to pull his bottom lip under his teeth. It makes you want to sink your teeth right there, this impulse to be so physical with someone discombobulating. You've never had such errant, feral desires for Stanley.

“You're probably right…” he rumbles quietly after a pause.

You dare to hold his gaze even though you know it’s a mistake. This nightmare of a day makes you uncaring of propriety. He looks as wild as you feel inside, a glint in his eye that is at once permission and danger.

“Theo here has been telling me all sorts of helpful information,” Eloise leans in, breaking the spell between you, a slight slur in her voice from her wine.

Theo nods to you and Benedict. On closer inspection, he appears to be in a British soldier uniform.

“I have to get back on duty,” he explains apologetically as he rises from his seat, “but I hope the information I’ve provided to your sister here will help.” He adds with a tiny salute.

You look surprised at Eloise as she just shrugs. You thought her up to her usual flirtatious banter, not researching. Benedict looks impressed too. You both, however, don’t miss the note he slips to Eloise before he takes his leave. Perhaps not purely intelligence gathering, then.

“Theo is helping process entry to Britain for foreign nationals wanting safe harbour. The numbers have spiralled since the war was declared.” She begins to explain when he is out of sight. “There is sadly a waiting list. But there are a few ways to skip the queue…

“Those being?” Benedict prompts before you can.

“Having family relatives residing in Britain already or, top of the pile, being the spouse of a British national.”

You slump your shoulders. “I have no relations there. Uncle Robert was visiting, but he was already at sea returning to America when the war was declared,” you explain, wishing he had stayed a few weeks longer.

“I wonder if we can find any paperwork forgers around?” Eloise ponders aloud.

“Eloise,” Benedict's tone is one of brotherly warning and disapproval, “we will not be taking that route.” his tone striking a chord of finality.

“But… how else can we get her into the country without bending the rules?” she exclaims at him, frustrated, gesticulating.

“I’m thinking…” Benedict grouses back, rubbing his chin and looking deep in thought.

Eloise leans back in her chair and twists her mouth into a pout. She takes a swig of wine before twisting to you and casually making a suggestion that flips your entire being.

“You could marry this one,” she jokes, shrugging and gesturing at Benedict.

Your eyes dart to Benedict and his to you. A tidal wave of a hundred different feelings crashing through you at once.

“I’ll do it…” he offers, quick and quiet.

“El, don't be ridic…” your denial, spoken over his, dies on your tongue as you process what he said.

You can't help it, you gape open-mouthed at him. As does Eloise.

“You would?” you stutter.

He nods, mien sincere, but you could swear there is more, too, a rousing intensity.

“I was joking, brother,” Eloise frowns.

“It's the only solution that guarantees her passage out of France,” he argues, “that's the most important thing here…”

“But marriage? That is such a sacrifice… I could never ask that of you…” you shake your head, even as your stomach feels like a rollercoaster.

“That's why I'm offering, so you don't have to ask,” he shrugs as if this is not a big deal. “It is not me who has to make the sacrifice. It is you who has an intended…”

Stanley.

Your face falls as you think of the consequences. Marrying Benedict, if only for escape, would wound Stanley beyond belief. Your father, both your parents, in fact, would vehemently disapprove.

“We can annul it as soon as we get to England…” he assures.

“French marriages can be annulled, brother, yes, but in France. Not in England,” Eloise pipes up, ever the font of knowledge.

“Then I will grant you an immediate divorce,” he amends.

“I can't believe you are taking me seriously,,,” Eloise mutters, but both of you seem to ignore it.

“I’d still be a divorcee, damaged goods as my father would say…” you wince at the phrase but know it to be accurate in Long Island, as much as you hate it.

“I don't know how else to help you escape, y/n,” Benedict implores, slightly alarmed.

“Keep thinking!” Eloise interjects hotly. “I won't have my poor best friend here shackled to a Bridgerton brother. She has done absolutely nothing to deserve such a sentence, however short.”

“Eloise!” you scold without thought, “don't be so rude about your brother! He's wonderful….”

You immediately flush with embarrassment as she looks at you suspiciously. You dare not even look over to the subject of your praise, but you can feel the weight of his stare.

“But umm yes, let's keep thinking…” you mumble, embarrassed, looking down and picking at your cuticles in your lap.

“I need a bloody cigarette,” Eloise pronounces, suddenly standing up, her chair scraping loudly over the tiled floor.

“Sister, you do not smoke,” Benedict frowns up at her, again with that air of elder sibling forbearance.

“Sometimes I do,” she shrugs, her tone defiant, “and this situation definitely warrants one.” She jabs her finger by her side to emphasise her opinion.

With that, she marches up to the bar and orders one but does not return to the table, shooting you both a look before heading to the wall outside and sitting alone, staring out at the horizon and taking deep draws.

You and Benedict sit in silence, heads bowed in thought for what feels like an age, only interspersed with small sips of wine.

“I honestly can't think of another way out of this mess…” Benedict sighs, breaking the hush. “But I understand it's such an enormous decision; you need time to consider it.”

You are scared by how much your heart and mind are screaming, ‘I really don't, I will marry you,’ even if your gut churns with the idea of how you will explain it to everyone. You look up, and again, those blue eyes bore into yours. Sincerity, concern, empathy, and something that looks dangerously like desire. You could get lost in that look. Forever.

“I’ll do it…” you whisper, knowing you are playing with fire… and yet yearning to be burned.

Benedict taglist: @foreverlonginguniverse @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies @balladynaaa

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton fluff #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n

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kryptonitejelly · 2 years

Text

Flyboy | Mini-series | Masterlist

Flyboy | Mini-series | Masterlist Top Gun: Maverick - Jake Seresin x Reader Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader Genre: romance; fluff; angst; best friends to lovers Warnings: general hangman being hangman; sexual tension; general cursing; will contain mentions of a break up / previous relationship; general use of pet names; fem!reader; pining; general naval / flying inaccuracies. Length: Mini-series (see chapter list below)

DISCLAIMER: all work posted here is purely fanfiction; it does not in any way purport to be an accurate representation of real life or the general workings of any institution.

Jake Seresin Masterlist

STATUS:

Series - complete

Flyboy universe burbs / one-shots / asks - ongoing (you can follow the tag “flyboy” / “flyboy universe” for related content; also because this masterlist is not always up to date)

Summary: Jake gets called back to TOPGUN the same time you’ve been granted a sabbatical from work. He invites you, his purely platonic best friend of years, to live with him for 6 months and you accept. Just two best friends kicking it back for 6 months in San Diego, Fightertown USA, right?

Series taglist: @blue-aconite @rosiahills22 @luckyladycreator2 @britty443 @yanak324 @rule107 @fuckyeahhangman @spidey-d00d @dempy @barista-library @alexwinchester23 @shakira-sasha @bxwitched @lumenseal @obiwankenobis-lap @prettybiching @littlebadariell @actuallybarb @beaner-life-23 @coco-loco-nut @criminalyetminimal @tragzerus @alana4610 @tkmarvel-divergentbish @kilojulietsierra @imagineyneyjr @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @ive-got-more-wit @fuzzy-panda @helloimhereforabit @meowimakellysaurusrex @t-rexs @iangiemae @shawnsthighs @cxit-writes @shanimallina87 @dempy @mell-bell @saynotononsense @justsplendidd @dont-talk-me-down @the-cranck-hobbit @blindedbyyourgrace17 @fandom-life-12 @bxwitched @indynerdgirl @hope-love-equality2 @fangirlofallthings22 @alistocats @callsign-marlie @bellamy1998 @slayry @bladed-planes @turningtoclown @double-j @shanimallina87 @chiffondaydreams @capswife @averyhotchner @unordinare @smokey102 @tallrock35 (continued taglist here)

CHAPTERS:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Epilogue

FLYBOY UNIVERSE:

BLURBS

From asks

You wearing Jake’s clothes

Jake bringing you breakfast in the morning / Jake dirty dancing with you in the kitchen - NSFW; minors DNI

You and Jake visit Grandma Doris and Grace Seresin at Grandma Doris’ home where they dote on you

Jake comes home to a dance party of you, his mom, grandma, sisters and nieces and nephews outside around the fire pit of their Texan mansion

Lazy morning snuggles (with little clothing on) + a Grace Seresin and Grandma Doris sanctioned attack of the nieces and nephews

Jake sulks because travel for work without him (and choose to fly instead of taking the train) and Jake picks you up (a 5 sentence baby blurb)

Baking shenanigans with Jake

Lying in bed on a rainy day with Jake

Beach day with Jake where you are wearing his shirt as a cover up; he wraps you in his arms and drags you into the water with your legs wrapped around him; and says I love you (all around happy, squealing, sunshine vibes)

Grandma Doris meeting the baby for the first time with Jake

Jake supporting your pregnancy bump and being very happy with the way his hand / wedding band fits perfectly over it

Jake introducing baby girl to the rest of the team

Honeymoon vibes

Jake with his niece and nephew

College flyboy - you going to look for Jake in the football gym to go grab pizza

(Not a blurb; but a photo) Pre-wedding at Grandma Doris’ ranch vibes

Jake coming home from a 6 month deployment

Posing as a couple for your roommates’ girlfriend’s final year project with Jake (college Flyboy)

Jake taking you to the Naval Ball, and having flashbacks of that time he took you to prom + the time Jake took you to prom (high school Flyboy)

Jake pulling down your garter on your wedding day + garter toss

Non-asks

Heat Waves - Where you aren’t teenagers anymore, but Jake still has to sneak into your room through the window at night.

A bigger shower? - Where Jake wants to know if a wall to the shower can be knocked out.

When the realisation that you just got married hits you and Jake

College flyboy - where Jake helps you finish your gym set

ONE-SHOTS/DRABBLES

Grease and Tequila - The one 5 months before Flyboy where Jake gets the call that you and Dan have broken up and shows up at your door with fried chicken and a bottle of Tequila.

A Drunk Confession - The very first kiss you remember having with Jake was at Annie’s wedding. The very first kiss Jake remembers having with you was on your 21st birthday.

Happy New Year - Snippets of five different New Years between you and Jake.

THOUGHTS / HCs ON FLYBOY

Jake not able to go an hour without being inside you after you both have sex for the first time = Jake constantly thinking of you; you giving him a blowjob outside The Hard Deck - NSFW, minors DNI

ANON’S THOUGHTS / HCs ON FLYBOY

So, not official Flyboy universe material from me, but from the most wonderful anons who send me these thoughts / hcs about Flyboy <3 Some material below with my additional input as well.

Jake x Reader headcannons through the years

College flyboy headcannons

Slow dancing with Jake through the years

Javy being the ultimate hype man and friend to you and Jake + the continuation - Javy being the middle man when you and Jake fight

Thoughts about intimate, slow and sensual sex with Jake on the couch (with a smidge of fluff + a breeding kink)

Last updated: 4 September 2022

#jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake hangman seresin #hangman x you #top gun: maverick #Top gun maverick imagine #jake seresin fic #hangman fic #jake seresin fanfiction #not cm #flyboy fic #flyboy #flyboy universe

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