#riding boots for riding climbing shoes for climbing

[ezdotjpg]

thinking new slate thoughts hehehehe

#spoilers I guess #riding boots for riding climbing shoes for climbing #bonus slate #bonus links #bonuslinks #bonuslinksdotjpg #sketchies #bonus ref #finally got my gears turning again it's been a while

[pseudonemisis]

Love how two of my favorite sports need opposite clothing. Makes my wardrobe so simple and easy

#for any sort of climbing freerunning or bouldering you need tight fitted simple shoes (climbing shoes converse or sneakers) and loose pants #that you can move easily in #where as horseback riding you need boots/shoes with a heal and fitted tough pants so they dont get caught on anything #if i do end up working on a ranch (still very much up in the air #havent even applied yet) #im gonna have one hell of a time figuring out what to wear #mine #the possum speaks

[drabblesandimagines]

Crash

Leon Kennedy x female reader, established relationship

The sidewalk feels cold beneath your thighs as you stare blankly into your lap, your breaths heavy, struggling through a tight chest. You’re sat cross-legged, like a child - the nice, elderly lady had encouraged you to sit down, said you were looking pale. She’d definitely meant for you to take a seat on the bench a few steps away, but you’d just dropped, seemingly forgetting how to get from standing to sitting in any sort of graceful manner.

She’d smiled sympathetically then, offered you some candy from the bottom of her purse – kept a stash in there for her grandchildren - said you needed sugar for the shock. But you’d shook your head, feeling sick at the notion of eating anything. She asked if there was anyone she could call whilst waiting for the first responders.

You’d put your hand in your jacket pocket for your phone at her question – relieved it’s in one piece, not smashed up like the hunk of metal just out of eyeshot. You don’t remember calling Leon’s number, but you must have because now your phone’s up against your ear.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He answers after only four rings, though his voice is hushed - maybe ducked out of the room to answer. “Can I call you back in 20? Just wrapping up something here.”

“I-crashed-the-car.” You blurt out, the words running into one another. It’s not technically true, you were crashed into but this seems easier for now.

“What?” His volume amps way up and your stomach twists with the change, unsure of the implications – is he mad? Upset?

You were borrowing his car. Yours was in the garage, the brake discs needed replaced and would take a couple of days to get the parts in. You’d planned to take city transport but Leon insisted you take his car - arguing it was winter, that it gets dark so early and the idea of you walking to and from the bus stop on your own isn’t one he wants to entertain. You don’t live in a terrible neighbourhood, but you don’t have to be for monsters to be roaming the streets, after all. Plus, it made sense for him to ride his bike to HQ whilst you borrowed his SUV and he wouldn’t have to worry, have one less thing on his plate… ..or so had been the idea. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m so sorry,” you don’t even take in his questions, really. “They came out of nowhere and…“ Your breath hitches in your throat, a sob building up and threatening to overflow.

“Baby,” his tone is firm, “are you hurt?”

You can hear his shoes slapping against the floor as he begins to run, though it sounds too hard a sole for his boots... No, that’s right, he went out in a suit this morning – leather jacket on top, motorcycle helmet tucked under his arm, still made the whole ensemble look good albeit it being mismatched.

“No…” That’s not true - there’s blood, and it has to be yours, but you feel numb of any sort of pain. “I don’t know.“ Your voice cracks again. “That’s okay,” he soothes, barging through a door with his shoulder. “We’ll work it out.” Nearly takes a woman out the other side with how hard the door slams against the wall, mutters half an apology as he darts around her. “Are you still in the car?” You turn to look at Leon’s black SUV laying on its side, the under carriage on full display – not the way a car should be. The driver’s side is against the concrete. You’d climbed out the passenger side, somehow, having to fight gravity itself to get the door to open, clambered up and over the leather seats. Should you have done that, or should you have stayed put? You’d just wanted out from the metal box – the windscreen was a spiderweb of cracks, creaking like it would explode in shards at any moment. “N-no, I’m on the sidewalk.”

“Okay, good. Ambulance on its way?” He’s reached the elevator, mashes the down button like it will make it accelerate to his floor any faster than usual. He feels awful that he’s interrogating you, but his training has kicked in - gather as much intel as possible – and he needs the facts.

“Yeah. Police too.” A few cars had stopped after. Someone said they were calling 911, another saying they got some of the license plate, the old lady and her purse full of candy. The other car drove off, tyres burnt with how fast they fled the scene.

“Good. That’s good, sweetheart. You’re going to be okay. Can you tell me where you are? What street you’re on?”

“Erm…” You look round, but in the shock nothing looks familiar, though it must be a route you’d driven down hundreds of times before. “I was on the way home from work, so, I’m, erm…”

“That’s all right.” He can hear the tightness in your voice, knows you’re not thinking clearly and so he changes tact. “Is anyone nearby that you could ask?” He hits the elevator button again, swears it’s been on floor 12 for far longer than necessary. Come on.

The elderly lady comes back to mind – she must’ve stepped back to give you privacy when you’d pulled your phone out. “There’s someone.”

“Great. Can you ask them where you are?”

“Yeah…” You pull the phone down from your ear, looking around to find she’s not gone far at all, hovering a few metres away. “Excuse me, where are we? Sorry.” The apology slips out, feeling more of a nuisance to her than you’d already been.

“16th Street, dearie.” She smiles, keeps her tone gentle. “Just near Jack’s Groceries.”

The elevator finally arrives – empty - and Leon positions himself between the doors, aware that his reception might drop when he starts to head down to the garage and he can’t leave you on a dial tone.

“Thank you.” You force a smile in return, hold the phone back up to your ear. “16th Street, near the grocery store, Jack’s - it’s the one with those chips you like?”

He smiles at that – it’s not your usual place to shop, but you go there sometimes to pick them up for him ‘just cos’. “I’m on my way, sweetheart. Can you call or text me if you go anywhere else?”

“Y-yeah.” You take another shuddering breath, dig your nails into the palm of your hand. “Thank you. I’m so sorry.”

He steps into the elevator fully, double taps the button for the garage before assaulting another to close the doors. He hopes no-one tries to grab it on the way down, cos he won’t be able to hide his irritation.

“Nothing to apologize for. Everything’s going to be okay. I love you, baby.”

“Love you too.”

“See you soon.”

He hears the beep, signaling the call is cut off and takes a grounding breath, though his foot taps impatiently as the elevator continues to descend. He scrolls down his contacts, thumb poised to dial as soon as the doors open again.

“Leon,” Hunnigan sounds surprised to receive his call, probably cos he’s in the same building as her and usually swung by the office if he was after something. “To wha-“

“I need a car.” He cuts across her, heading over to where the company vehicles are kept. “Any car - I’m in the garage already.”

“Right. Why?” He feels a smidge of relief when he hears her begin to type.

“Please - just give me anything. I don’t care what, I just need to go.”

There’s the clunk of a lock down the line of vehicles, a black estate vehicle’s lights flashing. “Bay C3. Keys in the sun visor as usual. Tell me later.”

“I will. Thank you.”

 --

Leon drives a little faster than he should, but it still feels like hours until he reaches his destination. There’s a couple of cop cars blocking one of the lanes, red and blues flashing, an officer stood diverting traffic around the closure and another manning the perimeter. He pulls up behind the cars and hops out, scanning for you.

There’s an ambulance parked up in the lane and his heart skips a beat when he sees you sat on the steps, a cop on one side, a paramedic waiting behind in the wings. There’s one of those silver foil emergency blankets draped around your shoulders and you look so goddamn small.

He starts to jog over, intent on getting to your side as soon as possible, when the cop manning the perimeter sidesteps in front of him, holding his hands up to get him to stop.

“Sir, I need you to stay ba-“

Leon flashes his ID in his face – it’s not something he likes to do and so he rarely does it, but he doesn’t have time to put on the charm. “Agent Leon Kennedy. That’s my girlfriend over there – I need to get through.”

The cop steps back and Leon feels weirdly grateful for once for the DSO.

As he gets closer, his eyes narrow at the fact that they’re making you blow into a breathalyzer. He clenches his fist then - you’re bleeding and they’re accusing you of drink-driving?! He wants to give them what for, but then he sees the way you’re shaking and knows him storming into the scene ready to blow is not going to help, especially with how apologetic you’d been on the phone.

He forces himself to stop a moment and breathes deeply again. You’re shook up, but you’re in one piece, conscious and that’s the most important thing.

“Thank you, ma’am.” The officer nods, noting down the reading as Leon walks over, catching the tail-end of the conversation. “Nothing to worry about there. I’ll just go update the control room – it won’t be long.”

“Leon,” you stand abruptly at the sight of him as the cop steps off to the side and the foil blanket slips off your shoulders, gauze taped on multiple parts of your arms. You’re trembling. “I’m so sorry.”

“Come here,” Leon wraps his arms around you, coaxing you into his chest. He wants to squeeze tight, to confirm what he’s seen with his eyes, that you’re real and whole, but he doesn’t want to aggravate any injuries so he’s careful, pressing a kiss to your crown. “Don’t apologise, sweetheart. I’m just so glad you’re okay.”

“Y-yeah, I’m fine.” You’re not, but maybe if you say it to Leon it’ll make it real. There’s a horrible burning sensation in your chest. You want to cry, but not here, not in front of everyone.

“Sorry, ma’am, can I get you to take a seat again?” The paramedic interrupts, emergency blanket back in hand. “I won’t be long, sir. I just need to check a couple more things.”

“No, of course.” He presses another kiss to your forehead and guides you back to the steps, encouraging you to sit and takes the blanket from the paramedic’s hand to drape back over you. “I’ll be right over there, okay? I’m just gonna go have a word with the officer.”

“Okay, yeah.”

He steps aside so the paramedic can move in and waits for the officer to come off the radio, approaching and offering his hand. “Leon Kennedy. I’m her boyfriend.”

“I gathered.” He shakes it. “Officer Jacobs. It was your car she was driving?”

“Mm-hm.” He keeps half an eye on you as he sees the paramedic shine a flashlight in your eyes, getting you to follow his finger. “What happened?”

The cop consults his notepad, flipping through his notes. “A witness stated another SUV-type vehicle went through the red light at some speed. Said it had been driving erratically for a while, so I’m figuring drunk-driver. T-boned, sent your SUV spinning and flipped onto its side after it collided with the lamp-post. The other vehicle stopped for five seconds or so, then gunned it. I’ve got dispatch sending a description out for the highway patrols. Partial registration but it’s gonna have damage, I’m sure, so should be easy to spot if it’s still in transit.”

Leon swallows, taking all the information in.

“How lucky do you think she was?”

“Truthfully,” the cop scratches his day-old stubble, looking between the SUV and you, “I think if she’d been in a different car than that, we’d be having a very different and difficult conversation right now.”

Leon’s fists clench. He’s encountered unspeakable horrors too often in his time, but the idea that some drunken jerk could just get behind the wheel and end your life is more terrifying than anything he’s ever faced. His thoughts swirl down a dangerous drain - wonders if Hunnigan can grab the partial registration from the cops, run it through her software and find the culprit, or trawl the CCTV cameras for a screengrab. He’d show up at their door, or maybe wait for them in the parking lot, revving his own engine, scare them the way they’ve traumatized you and-

“Sir?”

The thought extinguishes as he realizes the cop is offering him a slip of paper.

“Case number. We’ve got her details and we’ll be in touch if we hear anything, but just in case either of you want to follow anything up.”

“Got it.” He nods, taking it and popping it into his wallet. “Thanks.”

--

Leon wants to take you straight home – he’s got a substantial first aid kit there that’ll do the trick on the cuts that need stitching – but, honestly, you need a proper check-up and only the emergency room will do.

You’d required a few stitches from where you’d been caught by the glass from the driver’s window and bruises had started to develop, specially from where the seatbelt had jerked at the impact, but the overall prognosis was positive – you’d be sore for a few weeks, that was for sure, but armed with some painkillers and some rest, you’d be fine.

Leon doesn’t think he’s ever driven quite so carefully the way he drove to and from the emergency room. Not that will help against other assholes on the road, but he’ll be damned if he does anything that means he has to slam on the brakes and give you a fright. You’ve been silent most of the time – silent on the drive, silent in the waiting room, answering the doctor’s questions in a quiet, unsure voice, and then silent again on the drive home. He’d placed a cautious hand on your knee, squeezing it in reassurance, meaning to draw it away but you’d placed your hand on top of it, looping your fingers through his.

He pulls into the parking lot, gives your hand one last squeeze and hops out, dashing around so he can help you out the vehicle. Leon can read you like a book, he knows you’re holding it together until you get inside – you know you are too.

The elevator is mercifully sat on the ground floor when the two of you enter the lobby and Leon keeps you close as you ride up to the 12th floor and the safety of the apartment.

“Can we sit?”

“Of course, sweetheart. Whatever you want.” He sits down on the sofa first and you drop yourself down onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. It’s only a second before you burrow your head under his chin and, with a heaving breath, finally let out a proper sob - releasing everything you’ve held in for the last few hours. You feel stupid, annoyed, frightened, sore, relieved – too many emotions to keep track of.

He wraps his arms around you in turn, pressing a long kiss to your temple, tears burning at his own eyes.

In that moment, it hits Leon in the gut that he doesn’t know what he’d do without you, what he would have done if you hadn’t come home that night. If he’d have to come back to the apartment and not find your shoes kicked off at the door at the end of the long day, the glass with the lipstick smear on the rim near the sink from the water you’d gulp down greedily whilst making dinner.  It’s not like he takes you for granted by any means. He feels lucky every morning when he gets to wake up next to you in bed, and every night when he climbs back in, wrapping his arms around you. He’ll never let the two of you go to sleep or part ways if you’ve had harsh words or a full blown argument as all couples do, not with the risk his line of work brings, the threat that he could be called away in the middle of the night and have to bid goodbye to a turned back.

He rubs his hand gently up and down your back then, tears silently rolling down his face as he takes you all in, relishes your warmth as he cradles you in his lap.

“I’m so sorry.” You hiccup, your sobs eventually ceasing into sniffles, but still you kept your face pressed into his chest, seeking the comfort of his smell – the faint cologne and natural musk that was so uniquely Leon.

“You did nothing wrong, you hear me?” He mumbles into your crown. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Is the car a complete write-off?”

“Don’t know, don’t care.” He gently lifts your left hand, presses a kiss across your knuckles. “I love you, baby. So much.”

“Love you too.”  

The day after the next – he negotiated a personal day to spend doting on you, breakfast in bed, cuddles on the sofa, takeaway for dinner – Leon goes out and buys a ring.

--

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

Comments, follows, likes and reblogs make my day!

#ghostdogwrites #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff

[empresskylo]

'*•.¸♡ — simon 'ghost' riley' x fem!reader

you wanna kiss me so bad — part 2 (wc 1.4k)

part 1 [this can still be read w/o reading pt 1]

You had taken Ghost’s jests in stride. He clearly wanted to one-up you; wanting to show you and Soap he could be just as comical. 

At least he wasn’t angry when you teased him. But still, you hadn’t expected him to respond the way he had. 

You were used to playful teasing, like you would with a sibling. And normally, you could handle crude remarks, always making those with Soap. But when it came to Ghost, something about the way he said them bothered you more than it should have.

You had refrained from talking to Ghost, saving anything you had to say for a later date. Ghost found your response… odd. You went from slowly opening up, joking with the team lightheartedly, to closed off and seemingly lacking any ounce of humor. 

You pulled your jacket tighter as you made it outside, spotting Soap and Ghost up ahead, loading the truck for the upcoming mission.

Ghost stopped what he was doing and stared at you. You froze, your brows furrowing at his sudden shift. Even Soap paused what he was doing to look up at Lt.

“Yes?” You asked him, a bit confused.

“You’re wearing that?” Ghost asked you exasperated, his eyes looking you up and down. 

You felt your face heat. You were literally wearing the same outfit as half the men on the team. It was a uniform after all. He sounded like Soap with his stupid joke. “I guess I am,” you mumbled. You leaned over and picked up a crate to shove on the truck.

Soap smirked, clearly entertained by the awkwardness between you and Ghost.

You loaded the gear quietly for several moments before Ghost met your rhythm, walking beside you as you both carried duffel bags. 

“Calling me stupid one minute, t’not having my jokes at all,” he mumbled. “Can’t seem to figure you out.”

He thought you might not answer him again. You huffed as you tossed the bag onto the truck then turned to face him. “You ever considered the fact that maybe you’re just not that good at puzzles?”

You couldn’t see, but Ghost smiled under his mask. Soap snickered in the background. Ghost turned and leaned against the truck, all the gear loaded up, and crossed his arms. 

“Guess I just prefer a more hands-on approach.”

Your breath got caught in your throat. You averted his eyes, trying to act like his words weren’t flustering you. Teasing was so much more fun when it was just ludicrous jabs. Whatever this was that Ghost kept pulling, was leaving you speechless, and you hated it. You wonder if you’d respond the same if it was anyone else saying these things to you.

Soap bumped his shoulder against Ghost, finally forcing his eyes away from you. “If y’need the practice L.t., I wouldn’t mind—”

“If you finish that sentence, Johnny, I swear to god.”

Soap laughed and climbed into the back of the humvee. 

You refrained from glaring at Ghost the entire ride, though it took a lot of willpower. You swear you could feel the heat of his gaze along your neck. You were determined to fluster him like he had been doing to you.

And of course, when the team split up, you were somehow stuck with Ghost. It’s like the gods enjoyed torturing you. 

You clutched the sniper closer to your chest, the winter wind sending a chill down your spine. You followed Ghost in silence to the lookout point, your boots crunching the half-melted snow. 

Once on target, you laid prone on your stomach, aiming your rifle into the distance. You checked down the barrel, looking out for any of the men on your team, trying to spot them. Ghost still hadn’t gotten down beside you yet.

“Squattin’ too hard on the joints, Lt.?” You teased, keeping your one eye squared through your scope. 

“If you’re as good a shot as you are at runnin’ your mouth, this is a shoe in,” he muttered, a bit annoyed. You grinned, knowing he couldn’t see, with a bit of satisfaction at getting under his skin. 

Ten minutes had passed and still nothing had happened. You got up onto your knees and looked over at Ghost. He was sitting in the same position, tapping on his tablet to locate the men. You noticed his fingers turning red from the cold, his gloves tucked up under his arm so he could use the screen. 

“Pretty cold out here, Lt.,” you began casually. 

His eyes flickered to you briefly before going right back to what he was doing.

“Should hold my hand. You know… so it doesn’t freeze.”

You heard Ghost laugh through his nose, his eyes still focused downward. 

You turned back to your sniper and saw Ghost shift out of the corner of your eye. You glanced over and you bit your lip to keep from gaping. Ghost had continued what he was doing, but his free hand was nonchalantly outstretched, palm open and turned up for you to take as he concentrated on the GPS tracker.

When you didn’t take his hand he looked up. “What? That all talk, then?” He mocked. 

This whole teasing thing didn’t really work when the participating party wanted all the stupid things you offered.

You decided to play things his way then. You reached out and slid your hand into his. He glared at you, almost like he was overly confident you weren’t going to call his bluff. 

You wanted to show him you were just as committed to the bit as he was. 

“Didn’t take you for the affectionate type, Lieutenant.” You laced your fingers together and gave him a saccharine smile. 

He shook his head, shoving his tool back into his bag before tugging you towards him, his grip firm around your hand. “Affection is a weakness,” he explained. 

“Oh! So is that why you haven’t kissed me yet? Afraid to be weak?”

He knew exactly what you were doing. You were intimidated when he fired remarks back at you, ones that stumped you and left you flustered. You were trying to outdo him; to make him flustered. And Ghost was more than pleased.

He tugged you so close you had to use your hand not tangled in his to catch his chest, stopping you from flying into him. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t ya?”

“So, what if I would?” You threw his words from the other day back at him.

“This is a game you can’t win, sergeant,” he growled out, his eyes locked on yours, unwavering as he stared you down. 

“No? N’ why’s that?” You asked cooly, trying to mask the fact that your heart was racing. “You think I’m lying?” You were… weren’t you?

Ghost’s eyes narrowed, his mind reeling behind his glare. You swallowed and he traced the way your throat bobbed. Before you had the chance to say more, Ghost used his free hand to push his mask up to his nose, baring his chin and lips to you. He grabbed the front of your tactical vest, his fingers looping into the fabric, and pulled you level with him, your eyes turning to moons. 

“What are ya gonna have t’say once I prove ya wrong?” He asked.

You bit your lip, steadying your rapid breaths. “You won’t.” 

Ghost grinned and you were so shocked by seeing his mouth for the first time, watching his lips tip up into a smile, that you didn’t realize he had closed the distance between the two of you until it was too late. 

The kiss wasn’t long, just enough to be more than a peck. You were surprised at how soft his lips were, and how his faint stubble tickled. 

He broke apart, pushing you backwards and dropping both his hands. 

Maybe he had taken things too far. He averted his gaze while you stared up at him dumbly. Ghost smirked, a bit too proud of himself for stumping you. And he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t actually wanted to kiss you. No, he was itching to kiss you far more than what just unfolded.

“At least that got you to finally shut your mouth.” You could hear the playful lilt in his voice and it made your chest beat rapidly. You never expected to share a kiss with your lieutenant. And you never thought you’d catch feelings for him. But here you were.

What had you gotten yourself into?

#ghost #simon riley #smut #ghost cod #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #simon riley x reader #cod #ghost fanfic #simon riley fanfic #ghost call of duty #ghost angst #cod mw2 #cod fic #call of duty fanfic #mw2 fanfic #mw3 #ghost mw3

[neil-gaiman]

Hi Mr Gaiman! My partner and I are reading American Gods together (taking turns reading aloud) and we came across a sentence we cannot make the meaning of. If you don't mind, what did you mean by "But the conditions of transportation were such that, for some, it was easier to take the leap from the leafless and dance on nothing until the dancing was done."?

I've read American Gods before but never caught the phrase! Thanks so much!

From Farmer and Henley's Slang and its Analogues:

To mount a ladder (to bed or to rest), verb. phr. (common).—To be hanged.

1560. Nice Wanton [Dodsley, Old Plays (1874), ii. 172]. Thou boy, by the mass, ye will climb the ladder.

1573. Harman, Caveat [E. E. T. S., 1869, p. 31]. Repentance is never thought upon till they clyme three trees with a ladder.

1859. Matsell, Vocabulum, s.v. He mounted the ladder, he was hung.

English synonyms. To cut a caper upon nothing, or one's last fling; to catch, or nab, or be copped with, the stifles; to climb the stalk; to climb, or leap from the leafless, or the triple tree; to be cramped, crapped, or cropped; to cry cockles; to dance upon nothing, the Paddington frisk, in a hempen cravat, or a Newgate hornpipe without music; to fetch a Tyburn stretch; to die in one's boots or shoes, or with cotton in one's ears; to die of hempen fever or squinsy; to have a hearty choke with caper sauce for breakfast; to take a vegetable breakfast; to marry the widow; to morris (Old Cant); to trine; to tuck up; to swing; to trust; to be nubbed; to kick the wind; to kick the wind with one's heels; to kick the wind before the Hotel door; to kick away the prop; to preach at Tyburn cross; to make (or have) a Tyburn show; to wag hemp in the wind; to wear hemp, an anodyne necklace, a hempen collar, a caudle, circle, cravat, croak, garter, necktie or habeas; to wear neckweed, or St. Andrew's lace; to tie Sir Tristram's Knot; to wear a horse's nightcap or a Tyburn tippet; to come to scratch in a hanging or stretching match or bee; to ride the horse foaled of an acorn, or the three-legged mare; to be stretched, topped, scragged, or down for one's scrag.

#to have a hearty choke with caper sauce for breakfast

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Detour 6

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Thor

Summary: You find yourself stranded in a small village.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You refuse to spend your vacation pent up, especially in this place. You put on your most walkable shoes, felt boots with a low heel, and clothes suitable for walking. Cigarette pants and a sleeveless turtleneck. You grab your purse and call down to the front desk to request a taxi.

As you come down to the lobby, you see the preparations for the ridiculous event in full tilt. Ugh. This place is backwards. How can a grown man plan a part akin to that of one half his age. If you were to guess, that cretin is like pushing forty, and that’s being generous.

You roll your eyes and strut down the steps. You tap your heel at the bottom as you wait, hip pushed out with one leg at an angle. Finally, a minivan rolls up and the driver reaches over to the crank down the window.

“You call for a cab?” The man asks.

“Yes, sir,” you hesitate, thinking he might have the decency to open the door for you. When he remains as he is, you do it yourself, sliding open the back and climbing inside. 

“Where are we going, miss?” He prompts as you roll the door shut.

“Hm, I saw in the hotel itinerary there is a bakery in town. They have coffee?”

“Sure do, all those fancy foams and flavours,” he chirps as he shifts into gear, “didn’t know anyone was visiting town.”

“A brief detour,” you assure him and turn your gaze out the window.

“Ah, well, you can call me Paulie. I’m the only taxi in the village.”

You don’t offer your name in return. You aren’t paying for conversation. He’s a driver, not a therapist. You sit in the buzz of the radio, the outdated tunes static as the signal wanes and waxes.

“Just up here,” he announces as he comes to flat ground, steering between the only dense line of buildings, “one with the red sign.”

“Sir,” you pull out a bill and adequate tip for his trouble.

“You have a good one, ma’am. If ya need a ride back, you just call,” he calls after you.

You step out and shove the door closed, quickly marching onto the pavement. You peer up at the bakery, eyeing the facade. It isn’t as nice as your preferred cafe but there are no alternatives. How can people live like this? Is variety not the spice of life?

You’re aware of the looks you get from the village elders on the street. You ignore their sideways glances and enter the bakery. You approach the counter as you browse the menu, chin set. You are dying for a latte.

“Hello, I’d like an oat latte, half pump of vanilla, a quarter teaspoon of cinnamon, and a touch of honey,” you outline your typical order.

“Uh, okay, that was a latte–”

“Oat latte,” you correct, “latte with oat milk…” the girl behind the counter squints and keys in the order, “with cinnamon–”

“Half a teaspoon, don’t cake it on,” you demand.

“Um, alright,” she stops and rips off a piece of blank receipt paper, making a note on it.

“With honey,” you enunciate clearly.

“Honey,” she mumbles as she writes, “anything else, ma’am?”

You sniff and lean back on your heel, looking up and down the display case, “are any of these vegan?”

“Sorry, I don’t think so.”

“Gluten free?” 

“No, I don’t–”

“I might do with the raspberry white chocolate scone,” you step back up to the counter.

“Sure,” she taps the buttons and reads out your total. You pay with your card and cross your arms as you strut to wait at the other end of the counter.

You look around dully. There’s a man sitting by the window. He has frosting on his fingertips as he picks at a cinnamon bun. He gives a goofy grin and wipes his hand on a napkin, several others sticking to him as he tries to tidy himself up. You shake your head and return your attention to the counter.

Your scone is served first on a small plate. It takes some time for the latte. You taste it and suck your teeth. You look at the employee as she watches you nervously. Even if you tell her she added too much cinnamon, you doubt she’ll get it right on a second try. Like everything around here, you’ll settle for it.

You take your order and sit in the corner. You slide out your phone. No bars. This wretched place threatens to bore you to tears. 

A chair scrapes and a throat clears. You narrow your eyes in the messy man’s direction as he approaches you. He’s tall with sandy brownish blond hair and a trim of overgrown stubble along his jaw and cheeks. He wears plaid under a tan vest with too many pockets. Backwoods chic, how gauche.

“Uh, hey, you new in town?”

“Passing through,” you utter tersely.

“Really? You staying up at the B&B? Odinsons are good people.” He nervously plays with the zipper on his vest, “I’m Cole–”

“I don’t want to know your name. The moment I’m free of this place, I hope to forget everything about it,” you spit.

He blanches, “uh, sorry, miss–”

“You will be if you keep bothering me.”

“I was just being friendly,” he begins.

“Let me tell you something, I run circles around friendly men like you. In fact, men like you, beg me to step on them,” you sneer hotly. “And trust me, you can’t handle me, so go on and finish your snack, little boy.”

He stutters and looks around. He nods and backs off, a dumb look on his face. He turns and walks stiffly back to his table. He stares ahead and slowly drops his head into his hands. You scoff.

Does every man in this forsaken place store their brains below their belt? You pick at the scone as your eyes drift over to the barista. She watches the man with a worried look then glances at you and winces, quickly hiding behind the display case.

You turn and peer out the window. This must be purgatory. It is possible you crashed your car and now must wait out your eternity in this hellscape.

#thor #dark thor #dark!thor #thor x reader #character cameo #au #backwoods au #drabble #series #the detour #avengers #marvel #mcu

[norman-fucking-reedus]

So… Scud riding fem!reader’s strap-on?

YES YES YES YES YES FUCKING YES

UGHH When I tell y’all Scud fucking LOVES to ride. It puts so much power into his little hands he doesn’t even know what to do with himself

FOR THE FIRST TIME IN FOREVER IM GONNA ACTUALLY WRITE THIS OUT BC yall dont even understand the way this consumes my brain. Bottom Scud is for life I’m sorry hes my baby and my baby deserves to be fucked

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

“Fuck I almost forgot what the apartment looks like!” Scud sighed heavily as the door creaked out, kicking off his shoes and stretching as he walked over to the couch, dropping himself down onto it. You shut the door behind yourself and toe off your own shoes, leaving them in a messy pile right next to Scud’s.

You peeled off your coat and hung it up, keys following suit before you padded into the tiny kitchen “Do we have any food?” You groan as you open the door, fridge mostly empty and stuffed with mainly leftovers.

“We can get some takeout, fuck, I’d kill for a burger right now” Scud spoke as he moved onto the floor, banging on the shitty TV to boot it up and plugging in his PS2 controllers. “We don’t have enough money” You frown slightly, walking into the living room and plopping down on the couch, legs on either side of Scud’s head. He almost purred contently when your fingers began scratching his scalp.

Scud easily turned into putty at the faintest touches, slumping against you as you massaged his head. “Mmh, can we smoke a bowl?” He muttered, and you’d be crazy to deny.

“I think we only have a little left” You said as you leaned over the arm of the couch, grabbing a grinder and Scud’s bong. You tapped whatever remains were left in the gringer into the small glass bowl, reaching down to fish out the small bag you bought to better preserve the bud. “When’s Blade paying us again?”

Scud shrugged, fingers tapping and flying against his controls as he played some fighting game, leaning himself comfortably against your leg as he spoke. “Hopefully soon. I should asked for a raise” You stick a few sticky nubs into the grinder, twisting it around a couple times until it was finely grinded up into keef.

“Like he’d ever give you one” You snort, snatching a lighter and half dranken waterbottle off the coffee table. You pour the rest of the water into the bottom of the bong, sticking the long bowl inside and holding it steady by the long neck, gapping your lips through the whole at the top, flicking the lighter and bringing the flame down onto the small bowl on the side, inhaling until the water started to bubble and smoke started to form, swirling up and filling the long bong, your lungs shortly after.

It was a huge hit, the smoke turning a slight yellow color as it was built up and burning your chest where you held it in for a few seconds, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “Hey no fair!” Scud snapped his head around and pouted at you, because he wanted you to shot gun that right down his throat.

“I’ll give you the next one” You comb fingers through his hair as he whines softly. You bring the flame back down to the bowl, inhaling and watching the yellow-ish smoke form inside and climb up into the neck, down into your lungs.

You held it in for a few seconds as you tilted Scud’s head back, pressing your slightly agape lips against his and exhaling your hit into his mouth, smirking softly at his tiny moan as he inhaled.

Scud sighed around his exhale, staring up at you from his upside down position. “What?” You mumbled, cupping his face with a small smile. “That make you happy?”

He nodded, leaning up to kiss you before turning his attention down to the bong in his lap, not wanting to knock it over. You handed him the lighter, and glanced over at the clock.

“We should just order a pizza” You murmured, rising to your feet and stepping around Scud who was mid-rip. He followed you with his eyes, taking a massive hit and coughing out, exhaling a huge cloud that fogged up your small living room more. “I thought we didn’t have money?” He croaked out, beating on his chest a little.

As he said that, you rummaged through your purse, fishing out your wallet and opening it, raising a brow. “I’ve got ten bucks”

Scud pats his pockets, digging through them and pulling out a few crumbled ones. Better than nothing. You took the bills out his hand and grabbed the landline, plopping back down on the couch as you clicked through the numbers, eventually landing on the local pizzeria.

｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Stoned, showered, and stuffed, you watched with half lidded eyes as Scud needily bounces on your strap, loud moans and whines coming from him.

“Feels so fucking good, mommy feels so fucking good, want her to fuck me so hard” Scud babbled, sobbing as he totally fucked himself stupid, fingers curling into the cushion of the couch. You watched, rocking your hips steady against the small vibe pressed to your clit, throbbing from all Scud’s sweet little sounds. “You don’t need my help pretty boy, you’ve got it” You coo, sliding your hands across his hips, running them up his shirt and wrapping them around his throat, squeezing tightly. He wheezed out a gasp, clenching around you and whimpering the best he could in your grip.

You pulled him down for a hot and sloppy kiss, Scud breathlessly panting into your mouth as his back arched, rolling his hips down and up against you. He was a complete mess, choking on his moans and grunts as he started to ride your dildo harder and faster, rocking his hips back and whining desperately. “Good boy. Ride me like the dirty little whore you are, hear how disgustingly wet you are for me baby?”

“Y-yes, love b-being so wet for mmngh!–mommy, always s-so ready for her” Scud gasped out his words, your grip around his throat still so blissfully tight that he was starting to become lighthead, shifting himself a little before grinding back down, a loud and choked off whimper tearing from him. “There! Please, please fuck me there- need mommy to fuck right there” Scud desperately cried, bouncing on the spot with all the strength in his body. You gripped his hips and thrust up into him, Scud heaving a groan as he caught his breath. You ruthlessly pounding into him from underneath, watching Scud’s pretty face twist and turn in pure pleasure.

His fingers tightly gripped the couch cushions, toes curled and his head rolling side to side, so utterly destroyed. “Ohh fuuck” He bit down on his spit-soaked bottom lip, loud moans and whimpers escaping past anyway. Each hard jab of your cock was sending him flying off the edge, his own cock twitching and oozing a mix of cum and pre-cum, the tip turning a cherry red as it start to swell up, painfully hard.

“Gonna cum aren’t you, Scud? Or do you need mommy’s help with that too?” You ghosted your hand near his cock.

Scud trembled like a leaf in your lap, “Can’t do it by myself– I can’t–“ sobbing as he pushed back against your thrusts, the head of your strap bumping the bundle of nerves inside him. “Need mommy to help, need her so bad” He rambled, continuing to rock back against you. His face was soaked with tears, sweat, and drool as he was almost riding you again, loud drawn out moans tearing from his chest as each snap of your hips took him further and further. “You poor little thing, begging for help cause you can’t get yourself off on my cock?”

You started to slow your hips, rocking into him at a quick but lazy pace. Scud whimpered and desperately pushed back against you, chasing the blissful build of his orgasm. “Hnnghh– I need- I can’t- Ughhh fuuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck” Scud was so entirely gone, so very far gone. It felt like there were a million bees buzzing against his body, tossing his head back with a loud, broken and shaky sob of sheer pleasure, only a few more hard bounces before his jaw went totally slack, eyes rolling into the back of his skull as his untouched cock spasmed and twitched lewdly as he came, warm shots of white painting his shirt and landing on yours.

Scud slumped down against you, dropping his head onto your shoulder breathlessly and overfucked. He twitched slightly, and whined when you slipped yourself out, leaving his hole to feel uncomfortably empty.

You combed fingers through his hair, kissing his sweaty face and holding his limp body flush against yourself. “Wanna go to bed?” You whisper, kissing his cheek and letting your lips linger there. Scud nodded, but groaned when he realized that meant he had to get up. “Comfy” He mumbled, snaking his arms around you and squeezing, burying his face in your chest.

"We need to change, babyboy" You kiss the top of his head, feeling his sticky cum starting to seep through the fabric of your shirt. Scud whined, arms tightening.

You sighed, tired, high, and a little hungry again. Scud was starting to feel really heavy in your lap, pressing his whole weight down onto you. The clock in the kitchen ticked, and an idea crossed your mind, grunting as you pushed yourself up onto your feet suddenly, Scud flailing and scrambling to wrap his legs around you, eyes wide at the change in position. "Bed" Was all you said, hoisting him up and carrying him into your single shared bedroom.

When you went to drop your boyfriend down onto the bed, trying to get him a clean shirt, he tugged you down with him, rolling you onto your back and straddling you once again, staring down with a flushed and needy face. "Wanna go again, wanna ride mommy again" He huffed, grinding back against your strap. His skin burned, and the fabric of his shirt was uncomfortably sticking to his skin, leading him to pry it off, tossing it somewhere in the room.

You did the same, nothing wrong with sleeping naked, and moved a hand down to steady your dildo, holding it so that Scud could lower himself down, drawn out moan leaving his lips. Being so full of cock made him happy, especially when he could feel the hot drag of silicone against his walls.

Scud lifted himself up and almost immediately dropped back down, a shaky groan coming from his chest as he wasted no time eagerly bouncing his hips against you, whole body on display. You ran your fingers across his bare legs, up his jutting hips, and across his tattered belly, tickling his scars under your soft touch which made him giggle. He wasn't really one to feel insecure. Your fingers danced across his sensitive nipples, a tiny whimper in response.

“Such a spoiled little brat, aren’t you?” You coo as you watch Scud’s nude frame grind against yours, his cock bouncing and smacking against his abdomen. Scud whined and nodded, rolling his hips. It was true that he was very spoiled as saying no to him was genuinely the hardest task of your life. You could deny him, but never flat out refuse. In the end, Scud always got what he wanted, and right now, he really wanted to cum again, leaning down to needily kiss you.

You took the chance the place your feet on the bed, thrusting upwards into Scud who moaned into your mouth, gasping against you as you pounded into him. “Feels so good, mommy makes me feel so good” He slurred out breathlessly, moving to bury his face in your soft tits. He whimpered as you nailed his sweet spot, his cock rubbing against where it was sandwiched between your bodies.

Scud simply moaned and clung to you, dragging his tongue over one of your nipples and sucking it. Each rough snap of your hips lurched him forward, his hums vibrating your tit and his cock leaking all over your stomach.

He groaned and squirmed ontop of you, his hands squeezing the squishy flesh of your chest, pressing his face into their warmth. “Gonna cum, feels so good ‘m gonna cum” Scud babbled, his words muffled. You pressed his front closer to yours, making him rut his tender cock against you which each hard thrust. It was all that Scud needed to totally fall apart, whimpering out sobs as ropes of cum spurted from him, landing on both your stomachs.

You dropped your hips and completely pulled out of Scud, running fingers through his hair when he whined at the loss. “You made a mess of us both, Scud”

“M’sorry, just felt really good” He mumbled, head now pillowed on your chest, one of his hands mindlessly fondling a soft breast. “Can we take a bath?”

You smile softly, even though you had both just showered an hour ago. “Only if we make it bubble one”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★

© norman-fucking-reedus 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified, or adpated to any other platform. You may translate my works with my asked and given consent.

#scud frohmeyer #scud fanfiction #scud #scud x reader #scud blade 2 #hes my babygirl #norman fucking reedus #normanreedus #norman reedus #the walking dead #daryl dixon #the walking dead daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixion imagine #twd daryl #twd

[arkangel9]

maybe that fic i mentioned earlier

no one fed me so i scrapped something from the cupboard. Btw the mannar family are not class A bitches and whores in this(IM MAKING THIS HAPPY EVERYONE'S GOOD OK)(pls i fuckin hate raja mannar ) Varadha looks in the mirror and runs a hand through his hair. He had just finished packing the last of his stuff into the suitcase. A knock interrupts his thoughts. He strides over to open it and is greeted with his sister gracing his doorway

Akka? Why are you here. I thought you were away for business till next week.

You think I'd miss sending you off?. Besides I'll fly back tonight. You done packing?

Yes akka

Well then let's go down. Baachi and Rudra are waiting.

Varadha moves to grab both of his suitcases before Radha smacks away one of his hands.

You can destroy your back plenty in college.

He grins at his akka. They didn't have the best relationship when she was a teenage and him a child but he's proud to say time did them a favor and they all matured into a happy enough family.

Baachi is lying on the couch with his feet resting on Rudra's lap. Both are tapping away at screens. Radha clears her throat and their attention snaps to her. Rudra shoves off Baachi's feet to stand up and stretch. Baachi shoots him a glare before standing up himself.

Rudra moves to grab the suitcase in Varadha's hands(A.N literally barfing at imaging this bitch being nice but hey).

Anna I can manage

Rudra just tousles Varadha's hair before grabbing the suitcase and moving towards the car. He tosses the keys to Baachi to open the car's boot. After they've all settled in. Rudra takes the keys back and they set off

They are about to drop him off at the college which was a fair 10 hour drive away or in Mannar terms '7 arguments and an almost murder of Baachi' away. All of them exit and help Varadha to extricate his suitcases from the boot. They bid their goodbyes. Baachi threatens him to call everyday or he'll show up and break through his windows. Rudra is about to smack the kid when Radha's phone rings. She answers it before handing it to Varadha.

He wants to talk to you.

Varadha holds the phone to his ear. He and his dad weren't close as they were when he was a kid. The man was always away on business and the death of his mother created some distance between them

Dei. Study well and if you do get into trouble, call home first.

Appa why do you assume i'll get into trouble

Because you're my child and your brothers and sisters sibling

He chuckles at the assessment. Radha shoots him a weird look before going back to berating Baachi about leaning his dirty shoe against the car.

Dei Do well. I know you will.

Thanks Appa

He hands the phone back to Radha and gives all his siblings a hug once again before they leave. He follows the car with his eyes till it leaves his sight before letting out a sigh and hefting his bags. He makes his way to the dorms and stops at the reception to enquire about his quarters. He notices a young man with a guitar case slung over his back at the desk.The youth turns to face him and gives him a lazy smile before focusing his attention on the receptionist.

Varadha returns the smile and shuffles over to the receptionist and enquires about his rooms.

'Varadharaja Mannar right? Room 134. 3rd floor east end room.'

Varadha thanks the lady before making his way to the elevator. He prays to God that its working because climbing via steps to the 3rd floor with 2 bulging suitcases isnt practical. He'd fall and die probably

He pushes the button and mutters a prayer when it lights up. He heads into the elevator and is about to close it when the earlier youth rushes in. The youth looks sheepish and mutters an apology.Varadha smiles in return

Which floor are you on? Floor 3

Ah same as me

The two travel the rest of elevator ride in silence except for the weird jingly elevator music.Varadha steps out first dragging his suitcases and makes his way east. He can sense the youth trailing behind. Finally he reaches the last room. The room is not in a row like the others but at the end. He opens the room and wonders when his roommate will check in. He rolls his suitcases to a corner and sits down when the door opens. The youth from earlier is at the doorstep.

This is room 134 right?

Yep.

The youth gives a grin so wide Varadha's afraid his cheeks will break.

Well I guess you're my roommate then. Im Devaratha Raaiser. Deva for short

Varadha infected with the others cheeriness laughs before replying

Varadharaja Mannar. You can call me Varadha.

#salaar #varadharaja mannar #devaratha raisaar #prithviraj sukumaran #prabhas #kabir x khalid #varadeva

[lesinquietes]

What do you think of Yandere Levi making you hump his boot as punishment 👀

Hot 👌 I like the idea of boot humping because I’m a sick individual

Tw:; boot riding, noncon, yandere

Some people prefer when you use the tip of their shoe; that way, you can run the pointed ridge along your sensitive nub. Levi prefers when you slide your pussy along the leather of his entire boot. That way, you slick it up real nice. It’s physical evidence of both your punishment and reward — the latter only if he’s feeling generous.

The strict captain polishes his boots every morning, precisely because he craves the warmth of your damp core. He swears he can feel it through his boot. Your heat is like no other. It makes him feverish for your arousal, as he’s the only man in the world it can satiated by. Although you may not appreciate his advances now, he knows he’ll make your pussy twitch for him one day. Although boot riding is a punishment, it doesn’t have to be. You can derive pleasure from the act, too, if you give him a chance.

Levi has a fantasy. He wants to do paperwork at his desk and stick out his boot. You’ll come crawling over to climb atop the leather. Pulling your panties aside, you’ll drag your swollen clit along the smooth contortions until you polish them a second time for him. And if he’s lucky, you’ll lick off the mess you made.

But what he wants is far from reach. You have more training to go before you take on the role of his gentle, willing lover. Fortunately, in the meantime, these punishments will serve to sharpen your mind :)

#minors dni #levi thirst #levi smut #yandere levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #yandere aot #levi x reader #afab reader

[b4mpyre-k1zz3s]

Sin City

Y/N, the manager of America’s worst behaved band of celebrity misfits, babysit accompany them on a trip to remember.

Johnny Knoxville X Gn!reader

2.3k Words

(Fluff)

Warnings: Very suggestive content, crude language, drug use, alcohol, urine, flirting, bar fights, nudity (it’s Jackass)

An: Thank you for all the love on my last fic!!! I had SO MUCH FUN with this one and I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did!!

You spent the whole taxi ride to the hotel agonizing- but when didn’t you before a job? MTV sent you along to babysit the worst behaved man-children in entertainment leading up to some live event thing, and you knew nothing good could come of this. Of course, these routine concerns were exacerbated by the nature of where it would be held- the bad behavior capital of the U.S.- Las Vegas.

As you squinted out the taxi window for the hotel they were put up at, you couldn’t help but get transfixed by everything. It wasn’t every day you got to see this kind of stuff. The ornate, hulking buildings, the multicolored blinking neon, the drunk guy getting thrown out of the strip club-

“Ughhh…” Youe head thumped against the glass. Why now? Rummaging in you pocket, you threw a handful of dollars at the driver and threw open the door, dashing through thankfully stalled traffic. From the neon bathed sidewalk, Bam didn’t even notice you until he was praticlly staring at your shoes as you leaned down, trying to help him up. His head whipped up, looking at you, confused, “Y/N…?”

Drunkenly mumbling and completely ignoring your attempts to help him, Bam practically climbed you as he made his way to his feet. His forehead and cheekbone were badly scratched up and dripping from the rough concrete. “Ahahaha!! Oh my god- dude!” Just as he was booted out, Ryan stumbled after him, laughing like this was the funniest thing he’d seen. Bam, still holding onto you like Gene Kelly to a light post, gave Ryan an admittedly wimpy shove, swaying, “Shut up…Y’fuckin asshole…”

Coming up behind you, you heard a recognizable, raspy yell. “Aaah!” Steve grinned as he nimbly darted out of the swinging doors, ducking arround you as Pontius followed, hot on his heels like some kind of circus act. Chris laughed as he gave chase, “Ooh~!” He spoke in a sing-songy high pitched voice, holding back giggles, “Why don’t you come back and finish up that lap dance, big boy?” Even you couldn’t help laughing at the situation while you tried to diffuse it. “Okay, okay, this is fun, but-“

“But…?” Johnny leaned over you, surprising you with how quietly he slank out amidst the chaos, making you jump a little.

He grinned and leaned over to you, speaking in a low, beer scented drawl, “Aww c’mon, Y/N…can’t we just have a little fun?” Sighing, you rolled your eyes, “You have a live show in an hour- you should already be at the hotel by now! Why- did you go to a strip club anyway?”

“We’re in Vegas. We’re gonna go to the strip club!” Bam, rather matter of factly said. “Plus, Steve knows some of the ladies here!” God, if any of them would know strippers, it would be Steve. He reached over to high five Bam, “Yeah! Discounts!” Rolling your eyes at them, you continued, “Whatver, let’s just get you to the hotel.”

Of course, amongst the groans you did have to convince them using a bit of a bargaining token- a trip to the hotel bar. Of all the places they could be, that was probably the best- a relatively safe environment for the level of carousing these guys were accustomed to.

“So, what’re you planning on doing at the show anyway?” You sipped your drink, idly chatting with Johnny. While you were usually on your toes, you felt relaxed enough to take your eyes off of them for a minute, and when he invited you to have a drink- of course, you weren't one to turn that down. He chuckled, “Well, there’ll be some of the usual- staplers, ‘bustin cans of beer on our heads…” He trailed off.

Maybe a couple feet behind you at the pool table, Chris was talking to some stranger, and you could tell things were getting heated. Knowing him, they were probably disagreeing over something stupid like which Charlie’s Angel was the hottest, so you didn’t pay too much mind as you went back to scanning the establishment. Taking a sip of your drink, you started again, “Really? That’s it?” Your eyes drifted from the sticky countertop to the yellowing 70s lights that hung from the low ceilings and back to the stained, green felt pool table. “Well,” Johnny took a sip of his beer, “There is this- this one thing-

The pool cue that was splintered behind you might as well have been six inches from your head with the absolute sound it made. “Listen, motherfucker!” A familiar raspy voice spat. Even Pontius was surprised at how quickly he snapped. There was Steve, wielding a pool cue with this giant-pupiled, crazed look in his eyes and standing in the kind of stance you only see in bad martial arts movies. The poor guy on the other end was backed against the table, probably scared out of his mind. It was like the whole world stopped for a second. “Steve, Steve! Buddy.” You froze, not even thinking about Johnny until he took over the situation, speaking up in a low yet authoritative tone, “Let’s just…chill out, okay?

And just like that, Steve grinned, laughing as he lowered the pool cue like it was the funniest thing ever. You sighed in relief, not sure if you could’ve diffused that on your own without getting a cue through your trachea. Johnny threw an arm around him like nothing happened, “Okay buddy, How about I buy you a drink?” Steve cheered to that as your Nokia vibrated in your pocket and you flipped it open.

“Y/N. Cabs are out front.” That’s all your manager said before she hung up on you. Shit. “Okay, okay guys! Cabs are here, let’s go!” You went around, rounding everyone up- like hearing cats. Eventually, you got them all stuffed into the cars like sardines and peeled off towards the venue.

You surveyed the crowd from your place in the wings, leaning against a wall that hadn’t been cleaned in at least 50 years. Watching the buzzing crowd file in and seeing the camera people set up their equipment, you couldn’t help but get excited. In 10 minutes, the cameras would start rolling, and all of America would be present for the insanity that you had to live with, right from within this shitty little club.

Out of the blue, but quite faintly at first, you heard a familiar, electronic rhythm coming from just behind the stage, gradually getting louder. “You know, I feel like partying right now!” You weren’t sure whether or not to be upset, as for all you knew this wasn’t planned, but you weren’t complaining as Pontius paraded out. You had no clue where he got the tracksuit (nor the silver space-blanket thong), but as he danced around, unzipping the jacket and stumbling out of the pants, you had to give it to him- he could get a reaction from the audience. Applause and whoops thundered through the venue, and even though you really should’ve stopped it, even you found yourself grinning.

Johnny caught up to you from backstage, nearly on top of you from how tight the corridors were. He leaned over your shoulder, squinting for a better look, whispering exasperatedly, “What- what is he doing?” You shrugged, “Beats me.” Doing a double take, you remembered your job, “What’re you doing- get out there!”

Mentally preparing himself, Johnny ran out onto the stage, grinning, speaking into the mic, “Hello, I’m Johnny Knoxville, and welcome to Jackass Live!!” At this point, Pontius had tired of the dancing and had now progressed to full on grinding against Johnny’s side as he cackled, trying to keep it together, “This- uh, this handsome devil right here is Chris Pontius!” More laughter and applause ensued as he playfully shoved him away, but to no avail.

Then came the eternal showman, Steve-O. Even more than Pontius, he could get the audience riled up as he seemingly did every little thing with bravado. Johnny spoke with fondness after he did one of his favorite tricks, in which he dropped his cargo shorts, tucked his junk between his legs, and completed a full backflip, landing with his hands in the air. Johnny patted him on teh shoulder like a proud father, “And here we have the very talented Mr. Steve-O!” Pontius, who was still humping Johnny like an excited dog, was pulled off by Steve…visibly excited. Even you couldn’t help yourself from giggling as he just owned that tent in his silver mankini.

Without any cue, Ryan came up from behind you, squeezing past you and nearly topping you over just in time for Bam to throw down his skateboard on the opposite side of the stage with a clunk, hopping on and moving in your direction. He threw a punch at Steve’s crotch (prompting Johnny to cover his) and slugged Ryan square in the eye, inadvertently plowing him over, and by extension you. As you were tackled to the ground, crushed under a pile of giddy dudes, cheers echoed in the house. With how excited everyone was, you couldn’t be that mad. Even Johnny was a little surprised, chucking, “That- that was Dunn and Bam, everyone!”

But after the show was over, and all you were thinking about was getting back to your room. Sticky, sweaty, tired- all you wanted was to shower off all the…fluids and go to bed. Luckily, all the guys had gone off to their rooms of their own accord, so at least they could act like actual adults in that regard. Reaching your room, you jimmied the key to your door into the hole…only to find that it didn’t go in. Rattling the lock for a few moments, you gave up, your arms exhaustedly dropping to your sides as your forehead hit the door. Maybe you could just sleep in the hall. But with a clunk of the turning lock, the door gave way, and you stumbled a few feet into the room, looking up to see a tall, blonde man in front of you.

You spat, “What are you doing in my room?” Ryan chuckled as you confusedly peered around him, acting like he had no idea what you were talking about. “What do you mean? This is our room.” Rubbing your temples, you explained, “No, it isn’t- my suitcase is right ther-“

Eyes going wide, you stared in shock at the only bed in the room. There was Bam, posed like he was mid snow angel on top of the bedspread wearing the shirt he wore to the show and…nothing. Just watching TV, Winnie the Poohing it. Ryan caught on to your surprise, finding you reaction entertaining, “What? I mean, if you really think it’s your room, we can…” Catching yourself staring, you whipped your head away from the blinding man skin, whisper-yelling, “Is- does he just do this?! Is this normal?” He nodded. Wow. You had to give it to them- if anything, they were close. You really had to think to yourself- would you sleep on that bed?

“You know what? I think I’m good- you guys can stay here.” Ryan nodded and closed the door. Assholes. You did have to give them some credit, it was a pretty genius plan. Bam’s sticky fingers probably didn’t help in getting the key, and they were probably still pissed at you commandeering their strip club fun. Assholes.

Walking the halls, you knew you needed somewhere else to crash. Maybe Chris’? Know his propensities toward tossing off, you’d surely leave that room smelling like bleach in the morning, so that was a no. Johnny? No. He left for ‘one more beer’ about an hour ago- more like six or seven more beers. Lost in thought and the peeling beige wallpaper, you didn’t realize what was at your feet until you accidentally kicked it.

Well, you didn’t recognise it until it groaned, rubbing its head and turning around. Looking down, you saw Johnny’s bare muscular frame pressed against the floorboards, prone on the scratchy carpet. Your jaw dropped and you gasped, whispering, “Oh my god- Knoxville?” He looked up at you, eyes half open and clearly plastered. “Y/N…? What’re you ‘doin in m’room…?” You wanted to ask Johnny why he was laying down in the hallway, or why he was only wearing his boxers- or more importantly, why in god’s name had he pissed himself.

“This isn’t your room, Johnny. This is the hallway.” Kneeling down to his level, you tried to nicely reason with him, as futile as it may be (and as much as you wanted to ignore him), “Y’didn’t answer’m fuckin question.” Well, it was worth a shot. You knew you couldn’t lift him up, or at the very least, he wouldn’t let you. But you had to admit, under the yellowing hotel lights, with how he rested his head on a muscular forearm and how toned his back was, he looked kind of handsome from that angle. Sighing, you decided to appeal to him and his irrationality, “Dunn and Bam stole my room key- I have nowhere to sleep.”

It was like the drunken animosity disappeared in a second, as Johnny’s expression changed to a more relaxed one. “Oh…‘Cmere.” He gestured with one arm. You laughed, a little nervous about the dark spot on the carpet next to him, “No way! You pissed yourself!” Almost like he didn’t know already, Johnny looked down, then back up at you, “No I didn’t. That’s all Steve-O there- that’s not me.” That almost made it worse, but you had stopped questioning the things these men did a long time ago. Johnny groaned, “Go’t sleep. M’tired.” Grabbing your forearm, he gently tugged you closer to the ground until, with some resistance, you relaxed next to him and he fell right back to sleep, almost on top of you. Underneath his heavy arms, you felt surprisingly comfortable. It was kinda sweet, in the way only these guys could be.

#jackass #bam margera #johnny knoxville #ryan dunn #steve o #chris pontius #jackass fanfic #jackass fanfiction #johnny knoxville x reader #fluff #jackass x reader #a lot of this is just. shit they did in real life

[escapingrealtiylovinginsanity]

Joe Velasco: Magic Carpet Ride  

There is now a second part to this Disclosure. Both can be read as standalones.

You drop onto the couch with a huff. Exhaustion was the only emotion you could feel, echoing up your body from your toes in harsh waves. You had been working overtime at the forensic lab since you started there almost eight months ago. The scandal and retesting of forensic evidence for the last two years of narcotics and some homicide cases that involved Narcotics was almost over. Five people had been fired and prosecuted, turning on their outside accomplices, leading to big arrests. There was talk of IPB leaving soon and letting the lab get back to having its own autonomy. Not that you had ever experienced that at this lab. You had come to help following the breaking of the scandal. The stress and micromanagement had been so much that you wondered if you were crazy for accepting and then continuing to stay. But finally, there is a light at the end of the tunnel. 

“More over time?” Joe looked up from the files that he had spread over the coffee table. You groaned in response leaning back onto the couch and dropping your bag on the floor. After late night shifts you had gotten into the habit of stopping and subsequently staying the night at Joe’s house. You both often used the excuse that his apartment was just closer to the precinct and therefore more convenient. You had been doing this, non-defined, label-less relationship for just shy of five months. 

“I just feel like I can’t say no. The money and experience, it’s too good to pass up.” Joe hummed while taking a sip of his beer, analyzing your slumped form on his couch. You had yet to take off your coat or shoes and he could feel the exhaustion radiating from you. The tap of the bottle being placed back on the coffee table was the only warning you got before your legs were swung up into his lap. He unzips your boots and pulls them off setting them down neatly on the floor. His strong hands start rubbing your feet.  

“You need to learn. You’re going to burn yourself out at the rate you're going.” His hands are talented, and you lean further back against the arm of the chair.  

“If you weren’t being so nice to me, I would point out that you were up doing paperwork. But since you are, I’ll just smile and say you're right.” He paused his ministrations. 

“Really?” He was surprised that you gave in so easily. You were headstrong and liked to argue just for the sake of it sometimes. He hadn’t expected such an easy win.  

“Yeah, I’m starting to feel the effects of working so much.” His hands started moving up your calves stroking them absentmindedly. “I was thinking about it today actually. You know I’ve lived in New York for almost a year, and I haven’t even seen the touristy places. I’ve been talking about going to Coney Island since I moved here and I’m not closer to going than I was when I lived ten and half hours away.” You sigh before shaking your head at yourself. The idea that has been flashing through your mind won’t settle. “I’m going to use a sick day tomorrow. I just don’t think I have it in me to go back to the lab.” You had been working mandatory six days a week. Joe was right, you were feeling the burnout. 

“I think that is a good idea.” You reach for him, and he leans over you. You cup his cheek pulling him in for a kiss. It is slow and soft. His mouth was hot and followed the lead of your lazy kiss. It broke with a few lingering pecks on the lips. “You ready for bed baby? You look like you're falling asleep sitting up.” 

The two of you headed to the bedroom. Joe offered you a shirt to sleep in which you refused, teasing him that he is like sleeping against a furnace at night. You stripped down to just your cotton underwear and climbed into his arms reveling in the feel of his bare chest pressing against yours, your bodies tangled together. You had called the lab while getting ready for bed telling them that you wouldn’t be coming in the following morning because of food poisoning. 

Joe turned off the bedside lamp blanketing the room darkness. You had told him to wake you when he left for work, and you would head back to your apartment. You feel a kiss pressed to your temple before you're tucked under his chin. You barely have time to smile against his neck before you’ve drifted off. 

Something doesn’t feel quite right as you start to wake up the next morning. It takes you only a moment to realize what it is. Your body is no longer curled into Joe’s warm chest but the sad replacement of his pillow that only held trace amounts of his scent and body heat. The other was the sun was much higher in the sky than it should be. Had Joe not woken you up when he left for work? You found that hard to believe. Had you slept through his wake-up call, and he had given up? That also seemed unlikely but with how tired you had been last night, maybe? 

Joe walked into the bedroom, freshly showered and dressed in street clothes holding a cup of coffee. “Oh, good you’re awake, I thought I might have to wake you before you slept the entire day away.” He set his cup down sitting next to you on the bed. You sat up against the headboard watching him in confusion. He leaned over to kiss you and you made a face at the bitter taste of coffee still lingering on his lips.  

“Joe, what time is it, should you be at work?”  

“I guess your food poisoning was contagious.” The absurdity of the statement and your still half-asleep brain took a moment to process his meaning.   

“You’re playing hooky with me today?” You smile letting the covers drop from your naked chest. “You’re overdressed for the occasion.” Your greedy hands slid from his chest down towards the buckle of his belt. His hand caught yours pausing its movements on his lower stomach.  

“Sorry baby, not this time.” You tilt your head in confusion, searching his eyes. “We are already running behind, and we still have to stop at your apartment for you to get some clean clothes.” 

“Late for what?”  

“Coney Island.” You hadn’t thought much about your words last night. You had just been thinking out loud. Joe was one of the easiest people for you to talk to. While he had been sitting on the couch listening, he had felt a sense of guilt. He after all was part of the reason that you that you hadn’t been out much. You were working a lot but when you weren’t you had been hooking up with him. Sure, you went out to bars and the occasional place for food but mostly you guys spend your time in his apartment. He liked being around you, you were good company and the sex between the two of you had gone from great to better. There was an undeniable chemistry between the two of you. He didn’t want to tarnish a good thing by making you think that he didn’t care about what you wanted to do. You were new in New York and had mostly been willing to tag along with what he wanted to do. He hadn’t thought about the fact that he had seen most of the city quickly because he had been around doing detective work while you were stuck in a lab trying to help clean up a mess that wasn’t yours. 

        “Jose, you going to show me the world on your magic carpet?”  

You hadn’t been so giddy to get out of bed in a long time. The next hour passed in a blur, going to your apartment for a quick shower and to get changed before climbing back onto Joe’s motorcycle and speeding off for Coney Island. It was the perfect day, sunny and 75 degrees. The ride gave you some long-missed color to your cheeks and a happy thrumming through your veins.  

You guys spent all day there and Joe let you have the full experience. The arcades, the overpriced greasy fried food and then the over-sugared snacks, the attractions, the rides, and he even tried his hand at a few stall games. He had won a stuffed animal now tucked into your purse, only its bright head peeking out of the top of the bag. It was dark now and all the lights had been turned on. There was only one thing the two of you had yet to do yet. “You sure you don’t want to do the Ferris Wheel?” Joe persisted as you shoved another piece of the elephant ear in your mouth, powdered sugar staining your lips. 

“I’m afraid of heights. I know it sounds like a cute idea, but I’ll probably end up leaving a bruise on your arm.” He laughed at this before pointing at the rollercoaster that was at least twice the size with his hand that wasn’t holding your plate of fried sugar. 

“Let me get this straight, you will ride a rollercoaster that is twice as tall and way faster, but you won’t ride the Ferris Wheel. Baby, that makes no sense.”  

“I don’t have time to be afraid on the rollercoaster.” You say with a shrug. “If you want to go on I will. I was just giving you a fair warning.” He smiled brushing some sugar off your cheek, then kissed your lips sucking the sugar off them. 

“We will save that for another day then.” 

“Sounds like a plan.” 

When you guys get back to Joe’s apartment you are both happy and blissfully tired. The day had been long but had left you with a new energy. A readiness for what was coming your way in life. It was probably the best date that you had ever been on. It brought up questions that you had been refusing to ask yourself. You knew that Joe wasn’t seeing anyone else, or you were pretty sure at least. His work schedule might not have been as busy as yours now, but it did come into play at random moments. If he had time to see someone else, you would have to be a bit impressed. 

The way he acted with you was so intimate, and personal. You weren’t official but after a day like today, you felt like you were.  

“Hey Joe, I was thinking,” He hummed his acknowledgment from where he sat on the couch. You were about to just ask him what you guys were. Tell him you wanted a label, a defined serious relationship to build off. When his green eyes meet yours, panic fills you with what the conversation could cost you. How good things are right now. How perfect this hooky day had been and the promise of another one to come.  

“What is it, sweetheart?” He prodded when you don’t continue. You lose your nerve and think of a pastime that would be a lot more pleasurable. It was already late at night, and you were about to make it later. You sink to your knees in front of him. 

“I was just thinking that you deserved a reward for this amazing day.” You push his shirt up licking a stripe above the waistband on his jeans. You smile when you hear the hitch in his breathing. You rub your hand over the crotch of his jeans and can already feel him starting to harden.   

“You don’t have to.”  

“I know, but I want to show you how much fun I had.” You start to undo his pants and slide them down. Despite his words, his cock was already half-hard and looking for attention. “Don’t you want me to show you, baby?” He didn’t have a chance to get words out when you took the tip into your mouth rolling your tongue around the head. He cursed shifting, forcing his cock further into your mouth. You moan around it. You tease him at first focusing on the sensitive tip sucking a caressing it with your tongue. When he’s fully hardened, and you can taste his precum you take more of him in your mouth and start bobbing your head.  

You know your jaw will hurt later but you don’t rush through it. You stay teasing until his hand has gathered up your hair in his fist and he is tugging at it, telling you to look at him. His moans start bouncing off the walls and he tries to keep himself from thrusting up to meet your lips. That’s when you take him as far as you can his tip brushing the back of your throat. He hisses and you increase your speed. You know he is close when his thighs start to tremble, and he can no longer resist the urge to thrust upward. He gives you a warning and tries to pull back, but you follow him as he comes. You swallow and continue to lick at his shaft for a minute longer. You pull back with an audible pop. He swipes his hand over the coffee table making his files and papers go flying onto the floor as he lifts you up onto it pulling your legs over his shoulders to return the favor.  

If you had been able to focus on anything, quite an impossible task with Joe’s mouth on your clit, or any time immediately after, you would have noticed that one of the papers on the floor was the answer to the question that you had been too afraid to ask.

Relationship Disclosure Form: Manhattan  

That ending was not what I wanted it to be but it’s close enough. I have a second part for this planned. I also have a couple of multiple-part series I want to write for Joe. So, keep a lookout. I’m going to keep writing self-indulgent fics unless anyone has any requests. If you like Nick Amaro, I have started writing for him too.   

#jose velasco x you #jose velasco x reader #jose velasco #joe velasco #joe velasco x reader #joe velasco x you #law and order svu #svu #Joe velasco imagine

[supergirl000983]

The Rancher and the Pilot PT.1

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Dutton!Reader

Warning: None

Y/N walked outside to meet her brothers buddies along with Ryan, Colby, Abby, and Teeter. She had enlisted the help of her four closest friends to help her show her brother’s friends around. Y/N had made sure everyone knew to wear their good boots because she was taking them line dancing and bar hopping tonight. “So who is ready to get their dance on?” She asked the group of 8. “I did my fair share of dancing in high-school darlin.” Jake said wrapping an arm around her shoulder “I heard there was a place called the Electric Bull?” Bradley said walking closer to the two. “You mean you heard of a place that had an mechanical bull. The place itself is call 8 Seconds, and if you’re anything like most of the men in this town you won’t last that long.” Y/N responded as she grabbed Jake’s hand and started towards her truck. They were going to take two trucks. Y/N would drive her ranch truck with Jake, Javy, Natasha, and Bradley. The other truck would be Ryan, Abby, Colby, and Teeter. Y/N could feel herself getting closer with the team especially Jake. He understood Ranch life that was the reason he and her brother were such great friends. ————time skip because I’m lazy—————Y/N pulled up to 8 Seconds and they all got out. Jake immediately made his way to Y/N and held her hand as they made their way in. “Welcome to 8 Seconds. This place is my home away from home. I grew up with my older sister and her husband sneaking me in here. Oh Tee! Beth said she and Rip may make an appearance later.” Y/N said as she lead the group to her normal table. “Ok Ryan and Colby if you guys will go get the first round of shots Teeter, Abby, and I will start explaining the rules of this place.” Y/N said as she hopped up on her barstool. As the boys went to get the drinks the girls started explaining. “Ok rule #1 if a girl has a cowboy hat on 9/10 she is here with her boyfriend so don’t flirt with her, #2 Nat this one is for you If a man puts his cowboy hat on your head take it off and come find one of us if we are not with you, and #3 Do NOT take your eyes off your drink. Now with that being said let’s get this party started!” Y/N said as the boys sat the tray of drinks down in the table “Before we dance I think we should get these here newbies on that there mechanical Bull.” Teeter said in her Texas accent “You are so right Teeter! I for one think the Queen herself should go first and show them how is done. Y/N?” “I’ll see what I can do” Y/N said looking between Teeter and Abby. Y/N walked up to one of her friends from high-school who was working the ride. “Hey Jesi! Anyway you can get me on that Bull in the next couple of minutes?” Y/N asked wrapping and arm around her old cheer captain. “Yeah it’s going pretty easy tonight, just take your shoes off and hop on. Considering you hold the record for old Betsy I’m sure you won’t have a problem.” Jesi said smiling at her long time friend. Y/N nodded to her friends who all made their way over to where she was taking her boots off and taking her keys, phone, and wallet out of her shorts pocket handing her stuff to Jake before climbing in the ring and hopping onto the bull. As the Bull started Y/N leaned and moved like she was apart of the machine. “WOO! THAT THERES MY BEST FRIEND!” “GO Y/N!” “Get it girl!” Were all things being shouted as Y/N finally let go an fell off the bull. “25.4 seconds Y/N Dutton beating her old record of 24.8 seconds. Give it up the the 4 year champion of Betsy.” Jesi said before putting the mic down. “So who’s next?” Ryan asked as he and Colby held their hands out for Y/N to grab to get out of the pen. “I’ll go! How hard could it be?” Javy said taking his shoes off. “3 seconds…you lasted 3 seconds Coyote.” Nat said as she handed him his phone. While Javy, Nat, and Bradley went with the ranch hands Jake stayed with Y/N. “So how about me and you go get a beer, and then we go sit in the back of the truck and look at stars while they all dance?” Jake said wrapping his arms around Y/N.

#fanfiction #imagine #top gun maverick incorrect quotes #hangman top gun #incorrect topgun maverick #incorrect top gun quotes #phoenix top gun #rooster top gun #top gun 2 #jake serein x girlfriend!reader #hangman imagine #javy coyote machado #javy machado imagine #yellowstone ranch #yellowstoneimagines #yellowstone imagine #yellowstone ryan imagine #yellowstone #y/n dutton #kayce dutton imagine #beth dutton imagine #rip wheeler #Teeter #Abby #lanie Wilson #Colby #Ryan #ian bohen imagine #ian bohen #glenn powell

[mirrortouchedsea]

Day 1

Niki opened the door and announced his presence to his roommate, sliding his shoes off and walking over to the kitchen to put the groceries away. There wasn’t an immediate response but Niki wasn’t too phased as he thought about what he wanted to make them for dinner. Rinne was probably out doing his own errands or playing pachinko again and he’d be home for dinner like he always was. Rinne would never pass up a free meal. 

So when Niki was finishing up dinner and getting ready to plate everything, he found it strange that Rinne hadn’t shown up. Niki pulled out his phone. No new messages. His face scrunched up as he tapped out a message to Rinne asking where he was and how he better not be in trouble. Niki sighed and made his plate anyway, stomach rumbling and begging for nutrients. 

He ate his fill and wrapped up a plate of leftovers for Rinne before checking his phone again. Still nothing. He sighed and put the dishes in the sink before wandering into their shared bedroom to see if there would be any sort of hints as to where Rinne went. 

The closet and dresser were missing a set of winter clothes and Rinne’s winter boots, something he only wore when he went out foraging for food in the mountains. Then he noticed the note laying on the bed. The message was written in a hurry and read “I’ll be back tomorrow, don’t worry about me.” 

Niki crumpled the note in his hand. The nerve of that guy! Niki put on his own boots and grabbed a winter jacket before stalking out into the street, catching a taxi to the mountains. He had a vague idea of where he’d find Rinne and he was going to give him a piece of his mind, making him worry like that!

He eventually told the taxi to stop and paid the driver for their service before hopping out, seeing a set of footprints he’d know anywhere in the snow leading away from the road. Thank god it wasn’t snowing that day or Niki might never have found Rinne otherwise. He grabbed a snack from his pocket, took a bite, and started the trek to find Rinne. 

Ten minutes later, Niki was shivering and wondering just how far from the road Rinne had gone before he reached the end of the footprints at the base of a tree. He looked up to find Rinne leaning against the trunk from one of the lower branches, a can of something nursed in his bare hand red from the cold. Niki called out to Rinne and asked what was wrong, trying to get him to come down and go home. Niki even tried to promise he wouldn’t threaten to kick him out ever again if he’d just come home. 

Rinne didn’t so much as look down, giving only a grunt and an “I said I’d be home tomorrow.” Niki, out of frustration toward the man above him, kicked the tree and reached up to try and forcibly pull Rinne down. At least talk to me, what’s going on Rinne-kun, he begged. Rinne finally looked down and Niki finally saw how red and puffy his eyes were. Please, just leave me alone. I can’t do that, I promised to take care of you. 

The silence could be cut with a knife as Niki stared down Rinne until Rinne relented and climbed down from the tree. He hit the ground with a thud and pulled Niki into a hug, burying his face in Niki’s neck, mumbling something Niki couldn’t hear. Niki wrapped his arms around the other man, taking in the scent of his cologne, something he never expected to have missed as much as he did. 

Eventually, Rinne pulled away and took a final swig from his can which Niki could more clearly see as being beer now. Rinne was drunk and crying in the mountains and Niki had no idea why. Do you want to talk about it, he asked, taking Rinne’s hand in his own. Maybe when we get home. That sounds good to me, I saved you some dinner too. Rinne chuckled and his voice cracked. Niki decided not to mention it. 

They began to walk back to the road in relative silence, the only words coming from Niki on the phone calling another taxi to pick them up. Rinne remained uncharacteristically silent the whole ride home. 

By the time they got back, Rinne’s mood had thawed a little, whether that was from the warmth of the car or the alcohol in his system Niki didn’t care in that moment, just that Rinne was going back to normal. Rinne had let go of Niki’s hand when they entered the apartment as he made a beeline for their bedroom. Niki could hear him digging around for something before he came back out with a shoebox missing the lid. He set it on the coffee table and asked Niki to sit down with him. 

Niki obliged and sat next to Rinne as he began pulling objects Niki had never seen out of it, a photo with four people with striking red hair, a small locket, a clipping of hair, a brooch. Niki picked up the photo. Is this your family, he asked, voice small. Yeah, back when my mom was still alive. You said she passed when your brother was young. She did, this was taken just a few months before… 

Niki set the photo back on the table and turned to the locket, a smaller picture of the woman tucked inside, along with a photo of his brother in the other half. The hair and brooch must have been hers as well. The only things from his hometown Rinne had brought with him, things to remember his family by. 

Today’s the anniversary of her death, Rinne finally spoke again. Finally, everything clicked. He turned to face Rinne, hand on his shoulder. I’m sure she’d be proud of you, Rinne-kun. Tears began falling from Rinne’s eyes again as he turned to embrace Niki in a bear hug, so tight that Niki almost couldn’t breathe until he lightened up again. Thanks for…listening, Niki, I really appreciate it. 

Niki couldn’t tell if he simply imagined it, but as the two of them sat embraced on the couch in his apartment, he felt a third presence settle in with them, pulling them both in for a comforting embrace. 

#shay writes #enstars #ensemble stars #niki shiina #rinne amagi #rinniki #january writing challenge #<- i think i'm gonna use this tag for these posts. not all of them are gonna be main tagged but i'm really happy with this #also this is way longer than what i think most of them are going to be but we'll see ig #i've had this idea for a while though so using this as an excuse to write it. idk if i'll do madaleo or tatsukana tmrw but we'll find out! #i have a prompt list finally i might consult and see what speaks to me... #anyway............ enjoy

[a-dozen-lovers]

°Secrets°

18+ Minors DNI

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

Warnings: nsfw, age gap, swearing, description of nude bodies, description of sex, unprotected sex, drinking

Summary: he asked you too, now can you keep some secrets for Hopper?

A/N: gender neutral reader! (Y/N) is set to be 21+

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

When Hopper approached you about babysitting, you were very confused. You didn't think he had any children; then you thought he might be fucking someone who does. He needed you Halloween night, and to keep a secret. The encounter with Hoer was bazzar, to say the least, but you decided a few extra but wouldn't hurt. Now you found yourself in his Blazer on the passenger side wondering what the secret is. The truck ride down back roads and soon the town disappeared as you both entered the forest. Your mind wondered on, no noticing the man next to you clearing his throat.

"So," you wipe your hands on your pants to calm your nerves. "Why didn't you ask Steve? Or even Nancy?"

"I can't trust them."

The truck pulled twords a small cabin tucked away from the town. Hopper got out without another word and you followed.

"Watch your step there," he gestured towards a trip wire. "Keep everything you see now, and here on, a secret."

You were confused but gave a nod to show you understood. Your shoes crunched the leaves below but came to a stop when hus hand met your chest. His fingers softly pushed into you to precent you from moving further. A finger lifted to his lips in a 'shush' signal. You stayed still as his boots climbed the wooden stairs and made thuds against the porch. The woods around you was quiet as you watched the large man in a brown uniform knock against the door. The knock seemed to be a code because the door opened without him doing so. He signaled for you to follow, you did so as he stepped inside the cabin.

"Hey kid," he called out to an unseen body, "i brought you someone."

Once you stepped in the door was closed and locked. Your heart beat out of your chest due to the unknown. Slowly a door across the way opened, revealing who Hopper was calling out to. Your heart stopped in disbelief.

"..El?"

The young girl, sporting a oversized flannel and jeans, ran to you and hugged around your waist. Tears swelled in your eyes as you dropped to your knees and hugged her back. Boot steps sounded as Hopper relocated to the refrigerator.

"Now, (Y/N), you have to keep this a secret. Its for all of our safety."

Your head nodded as you kept the girl close to you. Slowly you picked her up and took her to the couch, Hopper followed and fell into hus chair.

"Why have you kept her here?" You looked up at the relaxing man.

"It's complicated, please understand that."

Your body was filled with anger but you kept cool for the child in your arms. Suddenly El jumped up with excitement before she rushed around. She started to show you her favorite things around the cabin, Hopper watching and smiling. Soon she ran out of favorites and began to blurt out stories. You had always been close to the child but this was unusual for her, the excuse could be the lack of company. Hopper stood up and marched to his bedroom as El rambled on about a squirrel. He returned with a bag full of candy, which he threw onto the coffee table.

"Happy Halloween, El." He returned to the chair and put his feet up.

The rest if the night waa filled with candy, scary movies, and anything else El wanted to do. Before Hooper knew, you and El were passed out on the floor by the television. Candy wrappers piled infront of the child, who he scooped up and carried to bed, which he cleaned up. After cleaning up he moved to you, crouching next to you.

"Hey, you can take my bed." His hand wrapped around your shoulder and gently shook you.

You got up and checked the time, it was two in the morning. You rubbed your eyes and stretched before standing up. Hopper was searching the refrigerator for another beer when you scanned the room.

"Mind if I have one?"

Hesitation.

"Sure," he tossed you a can. "Car to join me for a talk?"

You nod and you both sat at the table, his face read that he was nervous. Time continued as he explained why he held Eleven from everyone else. Your heart ached for the child and the anger was towards him was tamed. He wanted her safe. As the night grew darker, and you both grew drunk, more was learned about each other. The clock read five when Hopper finally called the conversation. He walked you to his bedroom and laid you down.

"What about El?"

"She sleeps in pretty late."

"What about work?"

"I took off, I had a feeling this would happen."

Your heart beat fast, not out of fear this time, as the tall man hovered above you. He hand found the side of your face as daylight peaked behind the trees.

"You should get some s-"

Your lips sprang to his, cutting off his sentence. Your arms wrapped around his neck and his wrapped around your waist. Your lips locked and tongues danced together. Your back met the bed as he crawled above you. He bulge rubbed against your leg. Lust. That's all you felt.

"Please take me, Hopper." You say between kisses.

A sly smile grew on his face as he almost ripped your clothes from your body. A pile of both of your clothes grew on the floor. Skin met and moans were sounded as he kissed doen your neck and to your nipples. One big hand kept yours pinned down while the other explored your body. His long and thick shaft found itself between your legs, teasing your tight hole. His lips moed away from your nipple as he sat up. He let go of your hands to wrap them around your thighs. He folded you in half, your knees touching your shoulders, to have access to what he wanted. Without warning you were stretched around him, pleasuring his length. You moaned out his name but it was cut short with a hand over your mouth. Quickly his hips thrust into yours as he kept himself from making too much noise. Faster and faster, the bed squeaking from the motion. You never thought you would find yourself in this position but you aren't complaining. His soft blue eyes rolled back as he reached his climax, you felt a knot in your stomach as you did the same. Your name rolled off his tongue as he came into you. His seed filled you to the brim. His chest quickly rised and fell as he kept his pace through his orgasm. He knew you were close and he wasn't going to stop till you finished. He grew tired but soon you came. He very slowly pulled out of you and fell next to you. You both clang to each other, catching your breath.

"Maybe I should have you babysit often."

You chuckle. "Let me guess, keep this a secret?"

His finger lifted your chin to face him.

"If you'd like, I wouldn't mind making this known. Have everyone know who you belong to."

His voice was low and rumbly, it sent chills down your body.

"Take me again, Hopper."

#jim hopper #stranger things #hopper stranger things #hopper x reader #chief hopper #jim hooper #jim hopper x gender neutral reader #jim hopper x reader #james hopper

[howdy-cowpoke]

LOCATION: Prickly Pear Acres TIMING: Recent (right after ‘We Begin Again’) PARTIES: Monty (@howdy-cowpoke) & Kaden (@chasseurdeloup) SUMMARY: Kaden gets dropped off at Monty’s house after his near death experience. There’s a lot of angst, and then all hell breaks loose. CONTENT WARNINGS: domestic abuse, suicidal ideation, animal death (all implied)

—

Instead of using the car ride through Gatlin Fields to Prickly Pear Acres to try and process any of the events from earlier, Kaden did his best to block it all out. His eyes were fixed ahead, staring out the window but he wasn’t seeing anything. It was all a blur, just shapes and shadows. If he let himself think about anything at all, Kaden might have felt the disgust brewing inside him. He might have noticed that he was falling back onto his training – shutting out his emotions and not letting them distract him from his next move. The mission was all that mattered. 

Even so, his mission at the moment wasn’t to continue the hunt or regroup or recon – nothing like that. His only mission then and there was to get to the farm and to Monty. He didn’t have a single plan after that. 

The ranger was so lost in thought that he missed the fact that the scenes sliding along the other side of the window had frozen in place. The car was parked, they were at the farmhouse. 

Right. He should stand up. Arden offered to help, no surprise there, but he refused. He wanted to be polite, grateful, or something like that towards her, but he couldn’t muster much of anything. She’d saved his life twice now and he wasn’t sure if he deserved it. 

Kaden shoved the thought aside as he shuffled to the front door, struggling to climb the handful of stairs and leaning heavily on the railing on the way. He didn’t knock, and he didn’t announce himself — he didn’t say anything at all. Hell, Kaden hadn’t even looked to see where Monty was. The man could have been right in front of his face and he wasn’t sure that he would have seen him. He did manage to turn to give a small wave to Arden before closing the door behind him. 

He was in danger of freezing up — of the emotions catching up to him. He could feel them clawing to the surface. The only way to delay them was to follow the plan, take the next step.

There was no next step.

Kaden looked to his left and saw the couch. Good, a plan. He made his way to the sofa, still shaking as he clung to the towels wrapped around him, and took a seat. There was a throw blanket, colorful and hand woven. Kaden reached for it and layered it on top of the towels, trying to find some warmth. Not because he felt the cold so much as it was something to do. A step he figured he should take. His clothes, shoes, and hair were still wet. He didn’t notice. Rather, he didn’t feel them, the weight of the soaked fabric clinging to his skin. He did know he should do something about them. Take them off. Change clothes, maybe. He tried to determine the next steps as he sat on the couch. 

—

It was the swing of headlights throwing bright light across the windows that alerted Monty to the unplanned arrival on the farm. He thought maybe it was Daisy, back a few days early from her trip to Texas, but she’d have let him know, wouldn’t she have? Confused but curious, the zombie abandoned his late-night project of fixing the hinges on one of the upstairs doors, scrubbing his palms on his jeans as he approached the top of the stairs. 

The front door opened, but no voice called out to him. Strange. For whatever reason, he didn’t feel afraid or worried, though he probably should have. Who had let themselves in, and why hadn’t they announced their presence? A work-hardened palm trailed along the banister as he descended the steps, each gentle thud of his boots matching the beat of a steady, calm heart. The one he could almost still feel pumping in his chest sometimes. Ears listened carefully for a voice, but none came. Instead there was a shuffling of feet, and the soft cotton sound of weight on the couch cushions and the blanket that was draped over its back being dragged from its spot. A breath, ragged but familiar all the same. Oh, he’d know that sigh anywhere, he thought, and his dead rotten heart sang to the night sky beyond his roof. 

“Kaden?” He moved down the hall in earnest, coming to the end of it where it opened up into the foyer and living room. His gaze fell immediately on the couch, and the figure he saw sitting there confirmed what he already knew, as well as something he hadn’t yet realized—this was not a social call. The man was soaked, shivering, and looked beside himself with… what was it? Fear? Grief? Whatever the complex emotion, it carried Monty swiftly to his side, the incognizant grin he’d been wearing falling to the floor just as quickly as his knees did, hands leaping to the other’s face. There were scrapes peeking out from beneath the collar of his sopping shirt, red and angry. “¿Qué pasó? Kaden, what happened?” Monty asked, breathless in his way and already fussing with his clothing, trying to get it off of him to better see any wounds, and to get him warmed up.

—

It took a beat for Kaden to register that he wasn’t alone in the room, not until he felt the tugging at the soaked clothing he was wearing. Right, he was going to deal with that next. That was convenient that someone was handling that. Someone.

Monty. Kaden looked up and locked eyes with Monty. A sense of relief washed over him, safety — but there was something else, too. It was some sort of pit in his stomach, a clump of emotions that felt heavy and uncomfortable that he couldn’t quite name. 

He’d nearly died earlier. He thought he was going to die — hell, he almost planned for it at a certain point. It was hard to figure out what came next. Or how to describe it. What he felt or what to tell his partner or anything at all. It was easier to stay still, to stay blank.

If only he could manage that much. Kaden clenched his jaw, tried to hold it shut, push away anything that was trying to boil over inside of him, but his teeth kept chattering instead. It only made him try harder, try to pull from the well of his years of training to endure, to shove emotions away, but it felt like it was melting away from him the more he tried. Looking back at Monty didn’t help – the facade was a wash.

“I don’t–” his voice was shaky, weak but gravely. All the coughing, all the lake water. He hated it. He didn’t know what he wanted but he knew he didn’t want to deal with it. Kaden cleared his throat and tried again, even though his voice wasn’t any stronger than before. “I don’t know where to… Darkling Lake. I was at the lake.” That explained the water, right? That would be enough for now. At least another few seconds. It would have to be enough. Kaden wasn’t ready to process anything more just yet. 

—

“... the lake.” The words were repeated softly as the zombie tried to discern further meaning from them, tried to put together a puzzle that only had the corner pieces. He'd… been in it, obviously. The wet clothes and the way he was acting told Monty that it hadn't been by choice. That something bad had happened. But Kaden was here, he was breathing, so who—or what—else had been involved? He felt angry suddenly, angry at the idea of someone having done this to Kaden, having shaken him so badly that he could hardly speak. “Okay, cariño. Let's just worry about getting you cleaned up, ah?” The focus on things he could control was as much for his own benefit as it was for Kaden’s, keeping them present in the moment to take care of immediate needs before they wandered off down darker roads that seemed wholly uninviting. 

Peeling off the man's outer layers, Monty then pulled him to his feet and readjusted the blanket over his wet shoulders. “To bed,” he explained, guiding Kaden down the hall to the downstairs bedroom. The rest of his wet clothing was removed there and Monty gathered the clean, dry, warm alternatives that the hunter had left behind in Monty’s drawers. This probably wasn't the scenario he'd had in mind when he decided to leave a few outfits on the farm—it had almost certainly been a precaution against pig shit and dog slobber, but that was neither here nor there. The first aid kit kept for company was retrieved next, and the cowboy carefully cleaned out the wounds he found on Kaden’s body, keeping him sat on the edge of the bed all the while. The worse wounds were secured with bandages, the rest left to breathe—it looked like he'd been dragged over the ground, the injury pattern was one Monty was intimately familiar with, having trained horses. Still he held his tongue in spite of the way his worry and curiosity burned. Kaden would explain in time. 

Helping Kaden get redressed as gently as he could, Monty let himself be used as a support throughout, pressing little encouraging kisses to the other's skin whenever his strength waned and he had to stop and gather himself. Once he was dressed, the cowboy insisted Kaden get under the covers to get warm, kneeling beside the bed and brushing his hair from his face with care. “Who brought you here?” It would tell him something. Tell him who he could question, if Kaden was unable to relive the experience. 

—

Kaden watched the emotions flash across Monty’s face, but he couldn’t discern a single one. The words made sense, though, and he nodded before following his partner, letting him take the lead. It was easy enough, it meant he could continue to run on autopilot, no thought needed. He was afraid to learn what those thoughts might be once they were unleashed. Better to not touch them.

For as little as he was thinking, Kaden felt even less, as if he was disconnected from his body. It had nothing to do with the pain or the cold or any of that. No, it had more to do with the strangeness of still having a body, a beating heart, limbs and bones and everything that went with them. There was a point earlier tonight where he didn’t expect to have those anymore. He couldn’t quite figure out what to do with that information. Instead, he followed along, let Monty help him out of the heavy clothes and into new, dry ones. One thought broke through the dam – whose clothes were these? It was a short lived question. Right, they were his. He’d left them there. For when he planned to return. 

Strange to think he hadn’t planned on visiting the farmhouse that night. Nothing about the night had gone according to plan, had it? If Kaden could find a laugh, he would have let it out. 

When he refocused on the world around him, he realized he was sitting on the bed, covers wrapped around him. He felt Monty’s fingertips brush against his cheek as the man pushed his hair back. There was care and kindness laced within them but it almost felt like a sting — a reminder that he had survived the night when he wasn’t sure he’d deserved it. Kaden wanted to reach out to Monty and melt into him, but something kept him at a distance, seated on the bed while Monty crouched in front of it. 

He took a deep breath before answering the question the cowboy posed, hoping that he could use the beat to find his voice. Hell, it wasn’t just this voice that was missing, it was the words, too. Kaden released the tension in his jaw long enough to let himself speak. “Arden. She— I met her before. In the woods. The last time I—” almost died. How many times could he almost die before it stuck? It should have stuck. He should have died. And he couldn’t tell if some part of him wanted that outcome to be different or not. “When the werewolf got me.” 

He was afraid to meet Monty’s gaze, afraid of what he’d see there now that Kaden had laid out the truth of that situation from months ago. It only seemed fair now that he knew what he was. Might as well be honest. “Saved me twice.” He didn’t know how to feel about that either. What it meant. Did he owe her? Probably. That's right, the fae, she owed him now. Apparently. None of it made sense. It didn’t add up. One of them should be dead. That was how this worked. Even if he didn’t believe in the shit his parents told him word for word anymore, this was still not how it all worked. It was like he was split in two and neither side could agree on how he was meant to feel or what he should do. He could only hope that Monty would be able to help him find some balance somewhere in all of this, that he could help steady him. He’d done as much when physically helping him just now, it didn’t seem too far off. Kaden reached out and laced his fingers with Monty’s, gripping his hand tight as he tried to focus on that — just that and nothing more — and trying to feel real again as he teetered back and forth between the two sides of his self-schism. 

—

If Kaden was expecting to see surprise flit across Monty’s face, there was none to be found. He’d known about the werewolf, of course. Gael had turned up on his farm once again after that full moon, bloodied and confused. After hearing that Kaden had been injured, it wasn’t hard to put two and two together. Of course now he knew that Kaden was a hunter, a ranger… someone designed to kill werewolves, which certainly explained why he’d been attacked in the first place. But he hadn’t killed Gael. He wouldn’t. Monty knew that now, and it was a relief, but… but the guilt overpowered everything else. 

He’d known this whole time that Gael was the werewolf that hurt him so badly, and he’d never said anything. How could he? Putting the two men at odds like that, he… he couldn’t do that to either of them. It was better that they did not know. But was it fair? Was it his place to decide this for them? 

No, of course it wasn’t. So he drew in a shaky breath, acknowledging that he’d have to come clean about it, he’d have to match Kaden’s honesty if he wanted the man’s continued trust. But before that— “I am glad she was there, then,” he responded, placing his free hand over the one that Kaden was gripping tightly. He was searching for something to ground him, the distant look in his eyes one that Monty recognized easily enough. “Hey,” he whispered, shifting his weight and giving Kaden’s hand a squeeze, “stay here with me, all right? Whatever happened out at the lake… it’s done. It’s over. You’re here now. You are safe.” Relatively. He got up, not letting go of Kaden’s hand as he moved to sit beside him beneath the tented bed covers, the arm between them circling around his back. 

“I… I knew about the werewolf. I didn’t say anything because I… well, I thought you were…” He sighed, hoping that if nothing else, turning the conversation to this tangential subject might help his partner come out of this trauma response sooner. “I knew because I… because he showed up here the next morning. Like he did the first time I met him. Covered in blood, confused, and ill. When you told me that you’d been attacked, when I saw the wounds for myself, I knew… I knew it had to be from him. I never asked, because he would not have believed me, and I feared you wouldn’t have, either. I kept it to myself.” He glanced up from their hands, watching Kaden’s expression carefully. “I’m sorry. It was—Gael.”

—

Kaden almost turned to look at Monty when he confessed he knew about the werewolf. Almost. He still couldn’t quite will himself to turn, let alone consider eye contact. It wasn’t entirely surprising that his partner had figured out that it was a werewolf that got him. He was aware of the supernatural the whole time, after all. “He showed up?” Kaden repeated the words but they still hadn’t quite sunk in. What did he mean by that? The werewolf showed up at the farm? Fear gripped him for a moment, worried that the wolf in question had maybe attacked Monty, too and that was why he– 

The moment passed as quickly as it came. No, he’d been fine. The only one torn up had been Kaden. He knew that. And it only got clearer the more his partner spoke. Of course he put two and two together, that all made sense. It made sense that it was–

“Gael?” If he had it in him to laugh at the irony, he might have done so. Of course it was the man who insisted he wasn’t a werewolf who nearly tore him to shreds. Of course it was the one he was trying to help the whole damn time. Why wouldn’t it be? 

And Monty had to see both sides of it. And he thought he couldn’t tell either of them. Kaden gave his hand a squeeze, even if he couldn’t manage much else. “I’m sorry.” The words were almost a whisper. 

Kaden could practically feel the water seeping into his lungs with each word, just like it had earlier that night. The water that was meant to stay lodged there, meant to bury him and smother him all at once. Monty’s words from before echoed in his mind.

You’re here now. You are safe.

He tried to hold on to them but– no, he wasn’t even sure he tried. Or if he wanted to hold onto them. He wasn’t sure of anything. “I don’t know if… I mean, I can’t tell if… I can’t–” Kaden pinched his eyes shut, scrunching his face as if it would help him make sense of any of it. “I almost died tonight.” No, that wasn’t quite right. They’d covered that much. It wasn’t the whole picture, at least. “I thought I was going to and I–” His thoughts came up to the same wall he’d been running into over and over again since he got in the car on the way over. Did he want to die? Hard to say. He was expecting it. He felt like he deserved it, like it was fair. Like that would be the thing to balance the scales, maybe. He’d made some sort of peace with it in the moment. But as soon as he was out of the water, heart still beating, nothing made sense anymore. Would he have preferred if things had gone differently, if Arden hadn’t showed up when she did? It would have been easier, at least, in a way. Less to process. Nothing to worry about. Closure, maybe. 

But did he want that? Did he want to– 

The question was a wall and he didn’t know how to get around it anymore. And the thought of climbing over it was daunting. His whole life, Kaden was faced with the inevitability of an early death. And even though it was the thing that loomed over every hunter day in and day out, it wasn’t something he dared look in the face. Not if he could help it. 

“Hunters don’t die in their beds,” he said, breaking up the silence. Right. That didn’t explain a lot, did it? “I mean we don’t…” Kaden paused to find his breath again. “I’ve never expected to die of old age. Given… everything.” He was sure he didn’t have to paint a picture for Monty about the dangers of being a hunter. 

Putain. That still wasn’t an answer to his own question and he knew it. “Tonight, when she asked me how many people I’d killed. And how many families I ruined, I–” He felt his throat constrict around the words. “I couldn’t– I couldn’t say– I mean I didn’t fight back and I was going to…” He buried his face in his palms, rubbing them down his face. It didn’t make him feel any more real. “I was going to let it happen. The nix. Drowning.” 

He should have drowned. He was supposed to be at the bottom of the lake. No, maybe not should. Maybe just expected. He expected to be at the bottom of the lake. He wasn’t sure. “She was… I don’t know. Hunters. She was after hunters. And I–” The guilt choked him. Or maybe it was some cocktail of emotions that he couldn’t parse through. Didn’t want to parse through, he should say. Which left him slumped in the exact same place he’d been before, unsure of how to feel or what to do or what the hell he even wanted. 

Monty’s presence began to feel a little more real – the arm around his back, the hand clasped on his, the feeling of his body against his side. Kaden leaned into it, if only slightly, and rested their joined hands on his partner’s leg. Maybe it would ground him a little more. Or something. 

—

Monty didn’t know what else to say to the confession, to Kaden’s needless apology, so he just shook his head and held the man tighter. Their lives were… complicated, so it stood to reason that their relationships were only more complex. There hadn’t been a good way to approach that situation, he told himself. Not for any of them. Anyway, it was done now. Whether or not he should have told Kaden he knew who had attacked him was neither here nor there, though that wouldn’t stop him feeling guilty about it in the small hours of the morning. 

Now Kaden was struggling to share what he was thinking, starting and stopping and starting again, changing his words around and squinting his eyes closed. Monty shifted beside him, watching his face carefully, hanging on every syllable that managed to make its way out, even if it didn’t quite make sense yet. Yes, he’d almost died. He’d thought he was going to, and… well, what else could come next? Monty prayed that he was wrong, but he didn’t interject. He would let his partner struggle his way through vocalizing the feeling, because things like this needed to be said aloud. They needed to be made real and tangible. Only then could Monty witness the true burden and try to help lighten the load. 

He hadn’t been wrong. He’d been horribly, achingly right, and watching Kaden wrestle with that reality was probably the most painful thing he’d ever had to do. Hunters died young. They died doing what they’d been raised to do, falling when one creature or one person like Monty or Gael or Dīs succeeded in defending themselves. That, or they were victims of a need for revenge. Justice. Whatever you called it, it just added more death to a world already fraught with it. And the creature that had ensnared his love, this nix, had asked him a question that was impossible to answer. There was an answer, but someone like Kaden couldn’t speak it. Monty had never been able to speak it, either. But he knew that guilt. He was familiar with that weight, but still too much of a coward to accept the judgment passed by others. He fought back not because he felt he was innocent, but because he was afraid of the inky black nothing that surely waited for him beyond the veil. This is where he and Kaden were so different, and where Kaden was most certainly the better of them. 

Kaden got quiet again and leaned on him, urging Monty to speak. “I do not think that you… that you deserve to die for things you did when you were not your own person.” He spoke softly, afraid of the parallels he needed to draw. “I cannot accept that as your fate, not just because I do not want to lose you, but because… because it would mean I would have to accept it for myself.” He glanced over at Kaden then, untangling their hands and slipping his arm from around the other’s back to instead frame the face he adored between his palms, forcing the other to look at him. 

“You are so much more than the things you have done. The things you stopped doing, the things you learned from… and you are so young, mi corazón. So young.” He searched Kaden’s eyes for something, anything that might suggest he was getting through to him. “There is still so much time to learn and to grow. You cannot shut yourself down as I did, you do not have the luxury of forever.” He let out a small, strangled chuckle, brushing the damp hair from Kaden’s brow once more. “I want to watch you grow old. I want to be there with you, I want… I want you to live.” A pause. “I want you to forgive yourself. You are different, Kaden. Different from the rest that only see monsters to be slaughtered.” He let one hand drift down to the other’s chest, pressing over his heart. “Me being here should be proof of that, don’t you see? You don’t deserve what she did to you.” His vision blurred. 

“You must fight.” His voice strained. 

“To make it better, you must fight.” It was selfish, he knew. He wanted Kaden to fight because he wanted Kaden around, he didn’t want to have to say goodbye so soon. It was selfish, but it was the truth.

—

Of course Monty was equating this to his own past. Kaden found himself shaking his head. It wasn’t the same. For whatever reason, it felt like his actions were a choice, Monty’s were just about survival. It wasn’t the same. Was it?

He shut his eyes when he felt hands cup his face, the calloused fingers he knew so well were soft in their own way. The touch was too tender, too kind, and too easy to give into. Kaden wasn’t sure he was ready to face it, not yet. He knew everything he was trying to avoid and shut himself off from was waiting for him on the other side of his eyelids. 

Kaden wanted to avoid it a little longer, but that voice was like a siren song, calling him to look back at the man he loved. Any composure or detachment he’d managed to cling to started crumbling around him the second he was faced with those brown eyes searching for his own. He bit his lip as if it could stop his vision from blurring, as if it could keep the dam from breaking. Monty’s words were hard to hold onto so he reached up to clasp his hand over the one that had parted from his touch only a second ago. He wrapped the other around his partner’s waist and it felt like he was holding onto him like some kind of life preserver to keep himself from being pulled back under the waves. 

Listening to those words, really listening, felt more like fighting for his life than trying to keep air in his lungs earlier that night. Growing old sounded like a fairy tale, a fantasy that wasn’t afforded to him. But god if he didn’t want it to be true for Monty’s sake. For Alex’s and Andy’s. Even Keira’s. If she cared. 

His limbs and appendages started to feel like they were his own, like some part of him was in his own body again, even if it was only a little, and the only place he wanted it to be was exactly where it was. He wanted it there, holding Monty, being held by him. He wanted it to exist. He wanted to exist. At least for now. 

No matter how much he tried to hold it back (and he tried), the sniffling and the dampness on his cheeks couldn’t be blamed on the lake anymore. Kaden was too afraid to face his voice, to hear how strained it would be, to let it push the floodgates open even wider. A nod was all he could manage. A nod before he pressed his forehead against Monty’s, holding onto him as he tried to ride the wave of emotions trying to drown him in a different way than the nix had. “Okay.” It was all he could manage to croak out after all that time. “Okay.” 

—

A tired, hopeful little smile managed to bloom on Monty’s lips as their foreheads met, his eyes closing with some relief. “You do not need to tell me all that you are feeling,” the zombie added softly, wanting to offer some peace and comfort to someone so obviously struggling to wrangle his emotions, “but you should let yourself feel it. It does not make you weak. It does not make me think less of you. I love you, Kaden. I always will.” The scope of the literal truth of that statement wasn’t something he’d overlooked—he knew he would long outlive his partner, short of a slayer getting their hands on him in the next sixty years or so. But if he had been able to carry his love for Hector with him for as long as he had, love for someone who had loved him but not in the way he had wanted, someone who had abandoned that love in his most desperate time of need, then of course he would always think of Kaden fondly, long after he was gone. He couldn’t predict what their future might look like as Kaden aged, as much a victim of the steady march of time as most others were, while Monty remained unchanged. All he knew was that he would be there, in whatever capacity he was permitted, and he would never stop loving him. Not ever. 

Sitting there in the quiet, dimly lit room, it was hard not to notice a strange sound coming from outside. Monty slowly lifted his head, angling it to look out the window with a mild look of concern settling into his features. He held Kaden close to him, almost protectively, as there was another odd sound. He took a moment to try and figure out what it might have been, his body language tensing with each passing second. It was probably nothing, but—

There was a sudden chorus of frightened animal cries, and the cowboy leapt from the bed with his heart in his throat. He glanced back at Kaden as he stepped to the window, feeling fear and guilt pulling him in two directions, words failing to form on his tongue. Ripping back the curtain, his gaze fell on the nearest barn and he let out a strangled sort of moan, seeing the beams of flashlights whipping around as they shone between the slats of wood that made up the walls. “I’m sorry,” he breathed to Kaden, holding out a hand as he moved away from the window and toward  the door. “Stay… stay here. I’m sorry, I—” He couldn’t just leave it alone, of course, but the timing was… tragic. 

The animals were in a panic, their fearful wails and the stamping of hooves drowning out everything else. As he shoved his feet into his boots and grabbed the rifle by the door, Monty could hear that chaos erupting from every barn that housed his livestock. His dogs were barking and snarling in the distance, and there was shouting from voices he did and did not recognize. Horror strangled away his voice as he sprinted for the stables, his only thought being to get Habanero out of there. He knew those cries. He’d heard them before. Something, or someone, was killing his livestock. 

He would be damned if he let them get his best friend, too.

#. thread ; #. with ; kaden langley #. bedlam ; pt. i #. bedlam ; #domestic abuse tw #suicidal ideation tw

[hannahhook7744]

Freylin kids info;

BASICS: 

Full name: Stephanie Guinevere Ambrosius.

House: Ambrosius.

Age: 16 years old.

Birth place: Avalon.

Current location: Camelot.

Titles: Daughter of the Lady of the Lake, the Only Daughter of Emrys, and the Lost spawn of Emrys.

Occupation: None.

Known as: Steph, Hanie, 'Ephanie, Stephie, and Ste.

Known for: Assisting Percival in a quest as a young child and disappearing at 14.

ATTIRE:

General outfit: An emerald green, long peasant dress with no shoes.

Weapons/Equipment: A green handled battle axe.

Extra accessories: A dragon hair clip.

PERSONALITY:

Fears: Dying young, not being able to help people, losing her family, losing her friends, being cursed like her mother, bears, etc.

Dreams: She wants to be a Physician.

Likes:  Reading, helping people, reading, horseback riding, doing spells, swimming, healing , etc.

Dislikes: Evil sorcerers, bullies, classit people, her friends in danger, curses, being threatened with curses, etc.

FAVORITES:

Favorite Color: Emerald green.

Favorite Food: Cheesy bread.

Favorite Drink: Apple cider.

Favorite Animal: Cows.

Favorite Season: Winter.

Favorite Weapon: Battle axe.

RELATIONSHIPS:

Friends:  Lucan the Butler, Ywain, Melehan, Duran, Sanddef, Morfydd,and Calogrenant.

Parents: Freya and Merlin.

Siblings: Dragonet Ambrosius.

Love Interest: None.

Children: None.

Animal companion: None.

HISTORY: 

Childhood: Stephanie Guinevere Ambrosius was born in Avalon to Freya and Merlin a few years after the battle of Camlann.

She spent most of her youth helping people on quests and hanging out with her friends. Occasionally helping Giaus and her father in the medical ward before her disappearance.

Life: Eventually disappears at age 14 never to be seen again.

Death: Has not yet happened.

Quote: "Follow me and you will be a step closer to your goal. "

Theme Song: "Losing your memory."

BASICS: 

Full name: Dragonet William Ambrosius.

House: Ambrosius.

Age: 11 years old.

Birth place: Avalon.

Current location: Camelot.

Titles: The Spawn of the Lady of the Lake, The Only Son of Emrys, Dragonet the Jester, Daguenet the Fool, Daguenet the Coward,  Danguenes the Craven of Carlion, and Royal Jester of Camelot.

Occupation: Jester, (unoffical) adviser, and Honorary knight of Camelot.

Known as: Dra, Drag, Drago, Dragon, Draggie, Gonet, Nettie, and Net.

Known for: Being a honorable, loyal jester and honorary knight.

ATTIRE:

General outfit: Brown linen pants, muddy black boots, and an oversized, maroon ubiquitous tunic.

Weapons/Equipment: A small, maroon handled dagger.

Extra accessories: A black belt with a clip on holster and pouch.

PERSONALITY:

Fears: Suffering like his parents did, being persecuted because of his magic, being used, disappearing like his sister, dying like his mother did, being cursed like his mother, having a destiny, fire, having to kill someone, and lamias.

Dreams:  He wants to be an adviser or a knight.

Likes: Juggling, telling jokes, his friends staying out of trouble, reading, climbing trees, learning spells, riding horses, helping people, feeding strays, swimming, pulling pranks, doing magic tricks, horseback riding, and writing comedic poems and plays.

Dislikes: His father being made fun of, himself being made of, people joking about his sister's disappearance, fire, his friends in danger, his family in danger, either of them suffering, being cursed, assassination attempts, destiny, his pranks being halted, Kilgharrah and people going through his things.

FAVORITES:

Favorite Color: Maroon.

Favorite Food: Strawberries.

Favorite Drink: Goat's milk mixed with meshed up strawberries.

Favorite Animal: Dragons.

Favorite Season: Anything but winter.

Favorite Weapon:  Small daggers.

RELATIONSHIPS:

Friends: Helior, Artie, Everard, Menw, Tom Thumb, Penpingion, Taliesin, Cerdan Jr., Mabon,  Galeholt , etc.

Parents: Freya and Merlin.

Siblings: Stephanie Ambrosius.

Love Interest: Thitis.

Children: none as of now.

Animal companion: A cow named Moonamer.

HISTORY: 

Childhood: Dragonet William Ambrosius was born in Avalon to Freya and Merlin nearly a decade after the battle of Camlann.

He spent most of his youth helping out the servants in the castle, going on hunts with The Round Table and Arthur's kids, helping Giaus gather herbs, and doing tricks at feasts.

Being spoiled greatly by his many non official aunts and uncles along the way.

When he wasn't doing any of that he was hanging out with Arthur and the knights' several children, and trying to keep them out of trouble.

Life: Eventually, he becomes a court jester and is made an honorary knight by Arthur. The knights take him along so he can make fun of and play jokes on their enemies, making things much more entertaining.

Death:  Has not occurred yet.

Quote:  "Thou may wear riches like a king, but me thinks that thou is nothing more than a cumberworld churl."

Theme Song: "Run Boy Run."

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