#slowly filling out the east coast

[simple-persica]

Whoa it's a Maryland

She's one of the older states, around the same age as Virginia and she's a real old soul. She has slipped into 1700's lingo before. While a kind person, and she tries really hard to keep it up, she is ready to throw down if given a good enough reason. She can switch between "hospitable southerner" and "intimidating northerner" SO fast.

She's also super athletic, playing lacrosse and jousting with her horse, Old. She also knows everything about boats, how they're made, and how to drive them. She has been through the USNA several times and has to be chased off of campus now because all she does is "um, actually" the professors.

Has SUCH a specific taste when it comes to food. If she didn't make it herself, or if you don't make it a certain way, she won't eat it. She is also in the middle of some elaborate BS. One week she's tending to a lighthouse and the next she's in DC talking politics.

She and Virginia have a love-hate relationship. They're sisters and they have been with each other for a long time, but they just get so annoyed with each other so easily. Maryland's still kinda mad at Virginia for taking back land from DC. Like, what the hell man?

#hetalia #statetalia #aph maryland #hws maryland #love her #slowly filling out the east coast

[sometimesanalice]

In a Place Just Right

Summary: It's your first year hosting Thanksgiving in San Diego for the Daggers and Bradley can tell you're a little nervous about it. But he already knows it's going to be one for the books, because any holiday spent with you better than anything he could have imagined.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 5K

Warnings: fluff and allusions to smut (minors dni)

(author's note: this fic is set in the 'Like I Can Universe', but can be read on it's own! Happy Thanksgiving, friends!)

For the last six years Penny has been the one to host Daggersgiving, but this year hostess duties had fallen on your plate. Needless to say, Bradley knew you were more than a little stressed about it.

When you had asked him about his opinion on the merits of canned cranberry sauce versus homemade he’d blinked at you a few times before asking, “Is this a thing people care about?”

He’ll never forget how adorably aghast you looked to learn that he had no preference on the matter. And maybe if you had asked him when the sun was up instead of at 3 AM he might have known better than to give you such a noncommittal answer.

“Both, we’ll have both,” you’d stated resolutely.

“Whatever you want, kid," he’d murmured as he’d pulled you to his chest and wrapped an arm around your stomach. His smart and beautiful wife. "Now go back to sleep, you’re supposed to be dreaming of sugarplums not cranberries."

“Wrong holiday, Bradley,” you’d sighed contentedly, relaxing against him. And it hadn’t taken you long to fall back asleep with that cranberry crisis having been averted.

But now people were due to show up in less than an hour and you are frantically fluttering and huffing around the kitchen like a madwoman in a very pretty green dress, "I knew that quickie was a bad idea. You're never quick, Bradley."

He’d been away and missed many holidays over the years due to his career.

Your mom had always made it clear that he had an open invitation to join in whatever merry festivities were happening with your family, but more often than not it rarely aligned with him being stationed all over the world. But he’d always been happy to get to have a phone call with you and eat the homemade cookies you’d sent him on those years spent apart.

But now Bradley got to look forward to spending every holiday with you in the home you shared with him.

Over the last week the house had slowly but surely transformed into something that was straight out of a magazine.

There was a display of pumpkins, ribbons, and a garland of strung dried orange slices that decorated the fireplace. And overpriced candles from your favorite store flickered cheerfully on every surface that wasn’t a fire hazard to a bunch of enthusiastic Naval aviators. The dining table was dressed up to the nines and everyone spot with their names painstakingly written in your pretty script on a place card sitting in a pinecone.

You had even made some oversized confetti in the shape of oak leaves out of some old books, the copy of ‘Why Men Love Bitches’ that Nat had given him years ago as a joke was finally repurposed and recycled into something more festive over where the beverages had been set up.

The whole house smells amazing. Warm cinnamons and nutmegs mixing with bright citrus and rich vanillas. The kitchen island and countertops were filled with various plates and platters and bowls of dips, charcuterie, fruit and vegetables, nuts, and other savories. All the other dishes were being kept warm in the ovens for when everyone arrived and was ready to settle around the dining table for dinner.

Bradley was positive that no one would leave feeling hungry. He also wasn’t entirely sure where the things his friends are bringing were going to go, but there were worse problems to have.

Penny had taken Amelia with her to visit her family on the East Coast. They’d decided it would probably be better for Mav to hang back in San Diego for the holiday, those tensions with her dad were still a bit strained even though they’d been married for almost four years now.

Which is how the Bradshaw’s were hosting their first Thanksgiving for everyone.

This morning had been organized chaos. Some of the last minute-things had only managed to be checked off with the assistance of strong coffee and a good playlist.

However, he’d still managed to sneak in the opportunity to spin you around the kitchen to your wedding song when it came up on shuffle. After all the cranberries were still popping and boiling down; there was time for it, he'd always make time for it.

But that was then.

Now, you are glaring at him like you’d been personally victimized by him and his cock.

“You complaining, sweet girl?” he asks with a smirk, leaning his hip against the kitchen island watching as you briskly stir the gravy heating up in the copper sauce pot on the stove. “Don’t think that’s what I was hearing thirty minutes ago when we had that pretty green dress of yours bunched around your hips. Sounded something like ‘more, Bradley, more’ to me.”

You shoot him a look that would make a weaker man wither, but he’s built up an immunity to it over a lifetime of having it directed at him.

“I think that’s quite enough out of you,” you reprimand, but he sees the amusement in your eyes even as you fight to keep the annoyed façade on your face. “We’re behind schedule now. I thought I buffered in enough time, just in case-”

“Just in case you begged me to give you an orgasm to, and I quote, ‘help me chill out’?”

“I was kidding,” you say, stopping your agitated whisking to go fluff the stuffing instead.

“All I’m saying is that if my beautiful wife is begging for me, I’m certainly not going to say no. I’m only human,” he says with an all too pleased shrug.

Bradley grabs the can opener and works on opening the canned cranberry sauce. He reaches for a couple plates, holding them up for your approval and you point to the one on the right. The scalloped white one with gold rim it'll be.

“For the record, I certainly did not beg,” you say primly, glowering into the homemade stuffing that you’d had him get the bread from the nice bakery across town for.

“Sure, sure,” he drawls, the smirk growing wider on his face as he sets to freeing the jelly from its rippled container.

He knows he shouldn’t tease you right now, but you’re so cute when you get huffy that he can’t help himself. He’s known that petulant raise of your chin his whole life. And sometimes when he looks at you he can so clearly see the little girl he’d been forced to entertain for hours when your moms were hanging out.

You went from being his favorite nuisance to his best friend to his everything.

“Do I still look ok? Or do I need to do a quick refresh before everyone gets here?” you ask. You turn to fully face him, tilting your head one way and then another for his inspection.

He would happily stare at you all day if you’d let him. He loves your pretty eyes and what you’ve done with your hair.

“You’re beautiful,” he grins, “And if anyone asks, we can just say you’re flushed from all the cooking.”

“Bradley,” you whine setting down your wooden spoon down on the counter with a sharp thwack.

“Ok, ok. I’m done, I promise,” he says putting his hands up in surrender with a chuckle.

He pushes off the counter and grabs a glass off of one of the floating shelves and fills it with some ice water.

“Good,” you tut haughtily, as you fiddle with the white and orange striped kitchen towel hanging on the oven door, “I was about to threaten to make you sleep on the couch tonight.”

“You wouldn’t.” Even the thought of it makes his stomach feel unsettled.

After nearly two decades of hard beds on foreign bases and on lumpy carrier mattresses, he’s never slept as well as he did since the two of you found your way to each other.

His peace was found under a fluffy green duvet on a wooden canopy bed with you tucked under his arm.

“No. No, I wouldn’t,” you agree, leaning in to place a soft kiss to his cheek in thanks when he presses the cold glass into your hands.

Bradley tugs you away from the warm stove and you reluctantly follow and sit on the barstool he’s pulled out for you on the other side of the kitchen island.

He runs his hand up and down your back comfortingly as you take a few sips, “We’re in a great place, sweet girl.”

“Mhm, yeah. Sure, of course.” You couldn’t sound less unsure if you tried. “It’s just… I’m nervous about the mushroom and leeks bread pudding. I’ve never made it before. And what if we run out of wine?”

“What’s been our motto?” he asks, taking over the helm at the stove whisking the gravy together as it begins to thicken.

“‘In Ina we trust’,” you say with a serious nod of your head. 

“Atta girl, we sure do. And Nat said she’s is bringing a few bottles she picked up from when she went to Napa, the good shit. It’s going to be great. Trust me,” he says giving you a warm smile. “Will it make you feel better to go over everything again?”

“Yes, please,” you say, anxiously drumming your fingers along the side of your water glass.

He’d stepped up where he could like making sure the house was pristine and cleaning up the yard by blowing off the wrinkled remainders of the yellow Tipuana flowers. He’d even been able to source and rent some more chairs to make sure that everyone would have a seat at the table.

Bradley wasn’t a schlump in the kitchen. He knew his way around a cookbook and a stove. His knife skills were pretty damn good too, if he did say so himself. But he also knew when somethings were out of his wheelhouse. So he’d taken to being your sous chef, and had taken to washing and prepping the ingredients for you so that all you had to do was toss them in whatever shiny pot they were destined for.

He even made his mom’s favorite pie. It had been years since he's had it, and he was excited to share it with everyone.

Your mom had mailed the copy of the original recipe she had that was written in Carole’s rounded, flourished script. You had made a photocopy of it to use so that the original didn’t get ruined, and then pointed out a spot on the wall where you said you’d thought it would look nice in a frame hanging in the kitchen. And he'd fallen a little more in love with you.

“Ok, hit me with it,” he says turning the heat to low for the gravy and putting the lid on.

This was a partnership through and through, he was going to give you all the support you needed.

“The turkey?”

Bradley picks up the fancy digital meat thermometer he’d bought for the occasion to check, “Big Bird has an hour and twenty more minutes to work on his tan and then he’ll rest for another thirty. Giving people time to graze and mingle and get some drinks in them, just like you wanted.”

You nod and hum contemplatively, “I’ve been thinking we need a salad. I don’t feel like we have enough vegetable options.”

He knows better than to point out that you’re currently snacking on snap peas from not one, but three, of the veggie platters the two of you had put together the night before.

“We’ve got the crispy brussels sprouts, the garlic and hazelnut green beans, and the honey glazed carrots with lemon. We’re more than fine on the fiber and beta-carotene. Michelle Obama would be proud, kid.”

That gets a little laugh from you.

“Well, as long as you think Michelle would be happy than we’re probably fine,” you say with a smile around your water glass that tells him you know exactly what he’s doing invoking your favorite First Lady.

“What else are you thinking about?” Bradley asks peering in the lower of their double ovens, where foiled covered dishes are lined up in perfect symmetry are warming away having been prepared in advance.

“Do you think two bags of rolls will be enough? Or should I text Mav and ask him to grab one more?”

He doesn’t miss the way your eyes dip down to his ass in his gray slacks. So he might linger as second longer than necessary to let you enjoy the view, since it’s for the female gaze and all.

He’s never understood wearing the most restrictive clothing on the holiday that involves the most eating, but that was Penny’s tradition to have everyone dressed in their nicest and you had insisted on keeping it going even if she was on the other side of the country.

You’d teased him earlier when you’d seen him emerge from the bedroom wearing the short-sleeved green cashmere polo you’d gotten him a couple years ago. It fit a little more snug that he remembered it, but he thought he still pulled it off well.

“When did we become the couple that matches?” you’d asked gesturing to your dress as you gave him an appreciative onceover.

If the past was anything to go off of, you would be running your hands over the soft material covering his chest and back all night.

“I just like reminding people who I belong with, sweet girl.”

He might have had something else in mind to wear for the evening before he saw you in that dress, had ironed the shirt the night before and everything, but last-minute pivot it was well worth it when you looked at him like that.

When he stands back up, he gives you knowing wink.

And in return you throw a baby carrot at him with a laugh.

Bradley isn’t surprised in the least to hear the quick clack-clack-clack of nails on the wood floors as their fluffy black and white Portuguese Water Dog rounds the corner. Having been summoned by the sound of food hitting the floor from where he had been dozing near the fireplace in the living room.

The carrot is gone in an instant and he comes to sit at Bradley's feet by the stove, looking up at him from under his curly eyebrows clearly hoping he'll get another snack.

“Nah, bud. You’re barking up the wrong tree over here,” he says leaning down to scratch his floppy ears.

“Ah, come here, Duck,” you croon, calling him over to your side of the island. “He’s so mean for a man who claimed he just saw God not too long ago, isn’t he?”

Bradley snorts and shakes his head at you amused.

He still doesn’t know how he ended up with a dog named Duck.

At the dog park, more often than not people mistook it for ‘Buck’. And you were usually off to the side more than happy to let him take the lead, biting your lip to keep from laughing at his less than enthusiastic expression when he’d have to warily explain yet again It’s Duck like quack.

You’re not even subtle about the piece of cheese you pull from the charcuterie board to feed him.

“I saw that,” he says, giving you a pointed lift of his eyebrow, “You know Bob is going to be spoiling him all night.”

“It was just a little piece of cheese. Plus, I don’t know who you think you’re fooling. I saw you go over there and deliver him his own little veggie platter with some of the leftovers we had while I was making the apple cider sangria.”

“That’s different, that’s good for him,” he says rounding the island, reaching over and snagging his own slice of cheese to snack on.

“And cheese is a protein. He’s just a baby, Bradley, what am I supposed to do? Not give him a piece of swiss?” You slide off your chair to squat down and rub Duck’s belly, you’ve always been his favorite.

“He’s almost five,” he replies flatly.

“A youth!” you exclaim, “He’s a growing boy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bradley says affectionately with a little roll of his eyes. He knows a losing battle when he sees one.

He offers you his hand to help you stand back up, but you wave him off and pull yourself up using the edge of the island. You take a moment to readjust your dress before making your way to the sink by the big windows that look out into the backyard.

“Speaking of Bob, do you know if he’s bringing his fiancée?” you ask from over your shoulder as you wash your hands.

“Not this time, sweetheart. I guess she volunteered to cover a shift in the NICU when she heard they were short staffed.”

“Oh that’s too bad, I was excited to see her ring in person,” you say drying off your hands and heading to the pantry.

“It’s all he can talk about at work. I guess they’re thinking about a Spring wedding next year. They don’t want to wait too long to get married.”

“I’m so happy for them,” you say, digging around for a moment and then emerge with a stack of some sturdy plastic plates and set them on the last free spot on the countertop. “Don’t let me forget to make them up a couple plates that he can bring home for her, before Fanboy declares it time for ‘second dinner’ and eats all the yams like he did last year.”

“I won’t forget, promise,” he says fondly.

If you were facing him, he knows you’d probably tease him for the look on his face and just how gone he is for you.

You’ve always been so generous, it’s one of the things that he loves most about you.

You were always good about hustling him out of his well-earned money from is part time job scooping ice cream in high school, like with the fundraiser you did for the local soup kitchen and the one for the elementary school summer arts program.

He’s always been wrapped around your finger, it just took him awhile to realize why.

It’s the same reason why there’s been a donation that comes out of his bank account every month for the last five years for one of the San Diego animal shelters.

Bradley had made a rather sizable donation and then set up a smaller reoccurring monthly one after the chaos that was the time Bob had set you up with his friend who worked at the shelter, back before the two of you had gotten together.

Even after all these years, he still can’t help but get a little irritated every time he sees that guy’s face in the monthly newsletter that comes to his email. He’s pretty sure Casey still might have a little crush on you, but Bradley can’t blame him. He’d have a hard time getting over you too, so it’s a good thing he’ll never have to.

On newsletter day, Bradley always finds himself giving Duck extra treats.

You are his wife. And Duck is his dog. Ridiculous name and all.

He couldn’t wait to surprise you with the golden tennis ball that the shelter sends out as a thank you after a decade of donations.

Only five more years to go.

You’re over by the bar that’s been set up off to the side, straightening the already very straight rows of gleaming wine glasses when he hears you suck in a sharp gasp.

Bradley drops the dish cloth he had in his hands as he attempted to give what little counter space there was left a final wipe down and is in front of you in half a heartbeat. Was there a fluke with some faulty stemware? Are you bleeding? There’s a reason Thanksgiving is one of the busiest days at the hospital.

“The butter!” you cry out as you whirl around, your pretty eyes welling up with tears, “I let you fuck me and I forgot to pull the butter from the fridge. It’s going to be too hard for people to spread now!”

He knows it’s more than just hosting jitters that’s got you like this, but it still catches him by surprise sometimes.

“Woah, woah,” he says as he catches you on the way to the fridge and pulls you to his chest, “C’mere, my sweet girl.”

You make a distressed noise but allow him to keep his hold on you, “But the butter…”

“I already pulled the butter, see?” He points to the sticks that are already softening away on the counter. “Will you take a couple slow breaths for me, please? This place looks and smells amazing. We did good, baby.”

Bradley feels the moment your body relaxes into him.

He presses a kiss to the side of your temple as he smooths his hands down your soft, pretty green velvet dress and the warm, firm curve of your rounded stomach soothingly.

“Ugh, I’m sorry. It’s the hormones,” you sigh, as you lean your head back against his shoulder.

He hums empathically as he sways gently side to side with you in his arms.

“I would like to go on the record saying that I like pregnancy hormones, especially the ones from earlier,” he jokes lightly.

“That makes one of us,” you say with a watery laugh, “Just wait until I am waking you up at 4 AM because I am craving something from a drive-thru that’s not open.”

“Mm, can’t wait,” he murmurs before dropping a few kisses along the soft line of your jaw.

Bradley still can’t believe he gets to be this lucky in life.

He doesn’t want to forget a single moment of this. With you, with his family.

“We did a really good job with this one,” he whispers into your ear, still stroking your stomach, not wanted to disturb the magic in the domesticity.

“We really did, da--” Bradley groans and cuts you off with a kiss. He can feel the impish smile plastered on your lips as he kisses you. His favorite menace.

He knows you’re pretty sure it was the spontaneous hook up in the storage closet at the Hard Deck on the Fourth of July that’s responsible for the noticeable bump you’re sporting. Call him a romantic, but he likes to think it was that night in the Bronco overlooking the ocean when he’d taken the long way back home.   

You pull away all too soon for his liking to grab his left hand. He sees the flash of the two diamonds on your engagement ring, one from his mom and one from yours, as you take it and press it to a spot near your bellybutton.

The feeling of the fluttering under his palm will never get old. He’s not too proud to say he’d shed a tear or two the first time he’d felt it.

Bradley lets himself bask in this moment as he two of you stand there in the kitchen of your dream house.

There are a few pops from the wood in the fireplace, the refrigerator is humming away in the background, and he can just hear the sounds of a melodic piano from the playlist he queued up earlier playing over the speaker.

Of all the delicious scents that waft through the house, the smell the floral and musk notes in you perfume is still his favorite.

There are times in the soft quiet of night, usually when you are asleep and his mind won’t quite settle, that he sometimes thinks he was put on this Earth to hold you.

It’s the only reason he can think of that explains why you fit so perfectly against his body.

Why his palms can fit so perfectly over your rounded stomach.

Why it’s his hands that you have trusted to protect your heart.

And he’s still holding you in the warmth of the kitchen when he hears the front door open.

Bradley knows he’s going to have to play host soon and he just wants to keep you in his arms for just a little longer.

“Hey kids, I brought the turkey,” Mav calls out from the entry.

You spin in his arms, looking at him wide eyed and confused as you two exchange a look. He presses one last kiss to your cheek before letting you go.

“Thought you were going to bring the rolls, Mav,” Bradley calls out just in time to see him round the corner.

Pete stands there proudly grinning holding a few bags of bakery rolls in one hand and a turkey in the other.

The sound of your delighted laughter makes his heart swell in his chest as he takes in the sight.

“Cooper Mitchell Ford Bradshaw, you are without a doubt the cutest turkey I have ever seen,” you gush as you go to greet Mav with a warm hug and a kiss on his cheek. Your son’s chubby arms reaching out for you.

Mav has dressed your almost two-year-old son in a soft, plush turkey costume that is complete with tailfeathers and a beak. He’s clearly a fan of the outfit too because he is grinning widely, showing of the more of the baby teeth that have come in over the last few months.

Mav had swung by early this morning to take him off your hands to get ready for Daggersgiving without chasing an almost-toddler around. While it was nice to have some time just the two of you while you got the place in order and took care of the last-minute things, like that homemade cranberry sauce, but he’d missed not having his son around.

The sweet sound of Cooper’s giggles and your coos fill up the kitchen as he watches you pepper his face with kisses. You bounce him a little and do a little spin, making the little boy laugh even more. The two of you in your own little bubble.

“You doin’ ok over there, kid?” Mav asks, a soft grin on his face as he sets the rolls on the counter to pull him in for a hug.

The two men had made their way back to each other over the last few years, just another thing that Bradley was grateful for in his life. The man had always been his father in everything but name. That is until he’d seen the man who raised him hold his son for the first time.

“Yeah, Dad,” Bradley says, clearing his throat a bit, “Everything’s perfect.”

From there it’s a flurry of activity as people start to arrive.

Nat comes with her longtime girlfriend and the extra bottles of the fancy Napa wine she promised to bring. Only handing it over once he promised to give her the name of the contractor the two of you had worked with and the exact shade of green that was used on the lower cabinets during your kitchen renovation.

Payback and Fanboy and their wives show up wearing oversized turkey hats on their heads each carrying a bakery box of pie.

Bradley isn’t surprised when Duck ditches the attention that Coyote was giving him the second Bob shows up with the famous Floyd family scalloped potatoes. Bob has always been a sucker for a pair of puppy dog eyes.

And in between checking on people’s glasses, swapping out empty appetizer trays for fuller ones, and making sure Jake doesn’t tamper with his perfectly cooked turkey, he’s got his eyes trained on you.

There are no words for the pride and love that washes over him every time he looks over and sees you with his son propped up on your hip and the way your pretty dress stretches around your growing family.

He had missed this stage of your pregnancy when he was deployed and you were pregnant with Cooper. He was determined to savor every second of this one. Every butter related freak out and every late-night milkshake run.

Being in his house surrounded with all the people he loves, minus a couple who are here in spirit, isn’t something he could ever take for granted. It’s more blessings than he ever hoped to receive in this lifetime.

You look over your shoulder at him and everything about the way you’re looking at him is picture perfect.

Your smile sunshine gold and just for him as you hold his gaze for a moment as time ticks on around the two of you. You send him a little wink before turning back to Mav who has his phone held up for a FaceTime call with Penny and Amelia.

Bradley sees his son peek his head up from where it had been nestled into your neck. Cooper grins when he sees him, his tiny hand reaching out for his dad. For him.

As he makes his way over to the two of you with his heart full, he makes a mental note to ask Mav later where he got that costume. He’s already planning on running out tomorrow to see if they have any more in stock now that it seems they have a new Bradshaw tradition on their hands.

He’s going to have three little turkeys running around this time next year and he couldn’t wait.

Cooper and him were going to be outnumbered soon.

The two of you had found out earlier in the month that Everly Caroline Bradshaw and Olivia Saylor Bradshaw were going to be the newest members to join your little family.

His girls.

It was an announcement the two of you were excited to share later tonight with everyone else when the slices of pies were being passed around.

He scoops up Cooper from you with one arm, dropping a kiss onto his little boy’s perfect curls as his small fist clutches as the soft fabric of his shirt. And then Bradley kisses the crown of your head as he wraps his other arm around you, his thumb stroking the swell of your belly.

With you- because of you- he gets to have it all.

The wife. The family. The house. The dog. The life. The dream.

He’s right where he wants to be.

He’s right where he’s supposed to be.

Happy Thanksgiving! This was such a joy to write, thank you for reading!

It might not be Carole Bradshaw's famous pie, but it's one of my favorites! And who better to share it with than you! Cranberry-Lime Pie

If you haven't read the 'Like I Can' series you can read it here!

You can read my other stories here!

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#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster x you #rooster x reader #rooster x female reader #rooster imagine #bradley rooster x reader #bradley rooster x you

[strxngewitch02]

ILLICIT AFFAIRS

PAIRING : JIM X FEM!READER ( DELINQUENT SEASON ) 

song : illicit affairs by taylor swift.

WORD COUNT : 8.3K 

SUMMARY : You were friends with Jim but slowly you began to have a crush on him which became more than you could bear as he was already married but that didn’t stop the both of you. 

WARNINGS: SMUT (18+) ! ANGST, JIM BEING SOFT, FINGERING, P IN V, NO PROTECTION, PRAISE KINK, AFFAIR, CURSING.

IT’S HONESTLY NOT THAT BAD. ( STILL HOT THO ) 

♱

You messed up. 

That’s it. You messed up. 

You allowed yourself to be carried away and swept up within the moment that wasn’t even supposed to happen. if it weren’t for the way he was gazing at you with his piercing yet mesmerizing pale blue hues or maybe the way he grazed you with his finger tips that sent small sparks throughout your body then maybe just maybe you wouldn’t have ended up bare in the sheets with the man who was already married..

Married to another woman..  

The worst part out of all of this, is that you knew he was married. The fact that you knew and you allowed it to happen. You have every right to feel revolted with yourself right now. If the universe or god or any great entity that controlled this vast universe it definitely  knows how much you loathe yourself right now. You needed to slow down and think about how this even happened. 

You lived in a Suburban neighborhood–  in Dublin, east coast of Ireland. A single mother with a beautiful nine year old daughter named Mary, a journalist for your own advice column and a part time Pilates trainer at a studio that your sister owned. As far as you knew, your life was normal. Between spending time with your daughter and your jobs, your  schedule flowed perfectly together. You would be able to drop Mary off in the morning for school, teach class later on in the morning  and you would be able to go home during the day to work on your advice column before picking Mary up from school, then the cycle repeats unless otherwise. 

You’ve always been on your own. Having a daughter and two jobs, your love life was a punchline of a lame joke. In case you are wondering about Mary’s father, that’s a whole other story of its own, let’s just say he was completely out of the picture. 

You would be lying if you told someone that it didn’t feel lonely sometimes. It was lonely, it was incredibly lonely; of course you’ve made multiple attempts to at least go out on a few dates and have a nightstand if you were lucky enough but most of the time those don’t even work out. 

And It’s not because you weren’t attractive, no it was quite the opposite. In fact, you were quite beautiful– which was ironic for you because when you were younger your father called you the ugly duckling between you and your sister but then you prospered into a beautiful swan as you grew older. Like any normal person you still have your insecurities (no thanks to dad) yet overall you felt secure with yourself.

Clearly, your beauty wasn't the reason why your love life was shriveling away like a dried up raisin. It was the fact that you were picky, and you knew your heart wouldn’t always be completely in it. You weren’t that kind of person to simply have one night stands– but you admire those who do without forming any kind of connection that wasn’t only based on physical attraction. 

You’ve tried and even though it felt good to have that void in your chest to be filled in that  moment, the lingering feeling of desolation and melancholy always crawls its way back in. It wasn’t good for your mental health  and it wasn’t good for your daughter. So you were only left with your jobs and your delusions of a love life to suddenly appear. But you knew deep down that Mary deserved a good father figure while she’s still young and you shouldn’t put so much hope into your fantasies.  

Mary was a sweet girl, too sweet for her own good– she has a beautiful mix of your features and her father’s. The features that she shared from her father never bothered you either as you knew it wasn’t her fault that she was placed here on this earth because you didn’t wrap it until you tapped it. Of course, you and Mary’s relationship wasn’t always perfect but you wouldn’t have it any other way. You love her regardless– with all of your heart. Mary was the ray of sunshine you had in your life and  you were more than happy to be her mother. 

Knowing how kindhearted and smart your daughter was, she had many friends in her school. Even during teacher and parent conferences you’ve always been told many times how she loved helping the other kids, and the only times she would get in trouble was due to how talkative she was and you didn’t think it was a problem either.

And that’s how you met him. 

It was a gray and cloudy weekday, as you got off the phone with Mary’s teacher claiming that it was after school and Mary was waiting for you. Accidently getting caught up with your advice catalog time went by over your head without even realizing and now your child is sitting in the school alone and you knew she was going to be a little..not little definitely upset with you.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit!” Curses and all other kinds of profanities spilled from your lips as you frantically slipped on your mini cotton black trench coat. Your foot practically kicked down your front door before running like a trackstar to your car. Fortunately you didn’t live too far from the school and, without getting caught speeding past red lights, you managed to arrive at school where your daughter was currently waiting at. 

Your hasty footsteps echoed throughout the hallways of the school as you moved through with only one destination in mind, which was your child’s classroom. Once you were close to the classroom where Mary was, you halted in your footsteps as you watched Mary leave the classroom with two other kids, a boy and a girl and then a man. A man that you knew well wasn't Mary’s teacher so you assumed that it must be the other children’s father. 

Furrowing your slightly together you couldn’t help but to feel a little confused but relieved that at least you weren’t the only parent that wasn’t perfect. But it also did make you feel a bit skeptical as it is why a random man would be with kids and your only daughter. 

“Mary!” You called out to her, your tone airy yet smooth which caught the attention of your daughter and the man. Immediately,  your mind stopped racing and your heart leaped from your chest as his entrancing stunning ocean eyes met yours. It was as if his eyes had some deep hidden meaning behind them, it almost made you feel a little intimidated– how tired yet pierce his eyes were. His figure was lean but the broadness of his chest also stood out, along with his dark but slightly graying tresses, his sharp jawline, high cheekbones, his plump yet light pink lips, and smooth yet freckled fair skin…

Pretty.. You thought. 

But as quickly as you fell in a captivated daze you quickly pulled yourself out of it the same way, you knew well that you were attracted to this man but considering how he was here and with kids– you can assume he is married or hope he wasn’t a random stranger. 

“Mom!” You hear Mary call out happily as she walks towards you. A wholehearted smile took over your lips as you lovingly gazed down at her, allowing your hand to gently caress her back pulling her to your side. Thank god that she wasn’t upset with you. “I am so sorry, babygirl, I lost track of time.” You said softly as you felt Mary raise her head up to look at you. “It’s okay, I was with them.” she responded looking over at the alluring man and his kids who were in fact walking in your direction. 

With each step he took you could feel your heart pound in your chest as he was now approaching you, his hands stuffed in his dark blue puffy jacket along with his kids who followed behind him and soon had their own conversation with Mary. 

The man only gave you an awkward half smile as his gaze never left your form, you can tell that he was definitely on the reserved side. “Hi, you’re their father?” You asked giving him a little smile in return, then you couldn’t help but to mentally slap yourself a little bit with the question as you noticed in fact the boy and girl that were talking to Mary did in fact look like him. You watched as the man blinked in confusion for a moment, being thrown off by your question– you could feel  the conversation instantly dying before it even started. 

A  dry airy chuckle left your lips as you felt yourself cringe, “I-I’m sorry, stupid question– I was just..” before you could finish your sentence you heard a deep chuckle coming from him stopping you from rambling. “No, No it’s fine.” He says softly, shaking his head for a second with the same ghostly smile. “I get it, I would wonder the same thing  if a random man would be standing with my kids too, it would be really weird..” he paused for a moment before continuing, “I-uh, I was also late picking up my kids so yeah..” He briefly elaborated as you felt yourself relax as another gentle relieved chuckle left your lips, watching him. His voice was smooth and sonorous, it sent unwavering shivers throughout your body. Just by looking at him– he had a lingering forlorn yet cryptic aura surrounding him and it was reeling you in like a moth to a light. You hoped you didn’t look too obvious. 

“I totally get you, I was just caught up with work that I didn’t realize that time flew by, you know?” You smiled warmly and for a moment you thought you saw him falter. 

“I’m Y/N.” 

You watched as his little timid faint grin formed into a genuine smile. It was as if air was caught in your throat, your heart fluttered  at the sight of his smile. You felt proud of yourself that you managed to make him smile.

“Jim..Nice to meet you.” He introduced himself  politely as he extended his hand towards you which you did your best not to look eager to grab and shook his hand in a little handshake. You immediately caught the golden band on his finger indicating he was indeed vowed to someone else. You couldn’t help but not be able to suppress the disappointment that flooded through your body. He had a wife and kids.The forced mentality of  ‘it is what it is’ came into mind. And the attraction you had for Jim will most likely be temporary. 

Unfortunately, the kids manage to break the tension between you, asking if they can walk together. You and Jim didn’t mind as you all walked out of the school together. You managed to hold a longer conversation with him, taking the opportunity to get to know him better. 

Jim was definitely a man with a few words, and was more listening to you than you listening to him but he still present with you in the conversation. You both share a mutual affection for your kids, and you both worked at home– it was nice to share similarities with someone, to you it always made you feel like you were understood better, and you hoped he felt the same way. Although it's not uncommon to understand another parent- but  between you and Jim you both just want to get through the day. 

Luckily, It wasn’t just you that genuinely enjoyed his company as he offered to exchange numbers before parting ways. As this began to possibly be the start of a beautiful friendship for you.

You knew you were going to see him again soon, maybe for the rest of the following week. And you were right, when you picked up Mary on time for the rest of the week you would sometimes see Jim walk out with his kids. You two would exchange waves and polite smiles then carry on. Despite exchanging numbers neither of you made the first move to send a text first. You felt a little disappointed but you knew that maybe it was for the best and you shouldn’t look for some sort of connection that wasn’t there in the first place, let alone a text. 

Jim has a wife. That is that —  you two are also just acquaintances, and your kids are friends. That is all. Yet,  that didn’t stop your thoughts always trailing back to him– and you began to feel a little angry with yourself for it. Were you truly so lonely to be thinking about a man you only had spoken once? 

What is wrong with you?

 Get over this crush already. 

This would go on until the end of the week on a Friday, just as you and your daughter got home from school, a gentle ding emitted from your pocket. Stepping into the house, closing the door behind you, you took out your phone. You didn’t get to see who texted you as you heard Mary’s loud footsteps run off to the kitchen leaving her jacket on the floor along with her book bag.. 

“Mom, I am going to have a cookie!” she said loudly before you could respond you already heard the cabinet shut. Shaking your head you released an exasperated sigh, “Mary, please pick up after yourself! And don’t eat all of them!” You responded raising your voice a little bit while locking the door behind you. 

Another ding went off on your phone once more adding waves to your annoyance. Who was trying to contact you? A gentle frown painted over your lips as your hand reached into the buttpocket of your jeans to grab your phone to see that you got a message from an unknown number. 

Hey, It’s the random man from school.

Kidding, it’s me Jim. 

You felt your heart stop beating in your chest for a split moment as you vacantly stared down at the gray text bubbles that were on your little phone screen. You felt many waves of emotions crash down on you– denial, shock, guilt, and then excitement. Gradually a ghostly smile was painted on your lips replacing the gentle frown that was present a few moments ago, just when you began to accept that nothing was going to happen.

It was funnily convenient. 

You didn’t gloss over the fact that he remembered your conversation when you guys first spoke to each other as you felt your heart skip a beat once more. 

Had he been thinking about you as well? 

You can still be wrong that maybe he just wanted to ask you something about school or your kids and that would still be fine. This was nothing, harmless– this wouldn’t escalate to anything more. Just keep it short and simple. 

After a few minutes of typing and deleting your message multiple times to think how you should respond due to your mixed emotions of anxiety and excitement— you finally responded to him.  

Hi, Jim! Lol. How are you? 

You had no idea that after sending back that one message, you guys would be texting for the rest of that day. 

♱

It is strange how someone can go from being a stranger to a good friend to someone you ended up falling for. You knew it was a bad idea the minute you laid your eyes on him and somehow like a black hole Jim effortlessly sucked you in. Ever since the first text he had sent you, you guys began to talk everyday; through texts, and eventually calls. It only has been a few weeks since you guys first met. 

 You even discovered that he only lived a few blocks away from you which resulted in a lot of Mary having playdates with his daughter. This became a normal thing, almost every Friday Mary would have these playdates. The first time when he was at your house it was a bit awkward since you were used to only talking to him over text or calls but with a cup of coffee you both relaxed and talked how you guys normally do in the dining room while the girls would be hanging out in Mary’s room. 

It also didn’t help how being around his calming presence made you feel so comfortable, made you feel like you could tell him anything and he would just listen to you. 

You often wondered if his wife knew about your friendship with him, or if she even knew about you at all. She probably does since her daughter occasionally hangs out with Mary almost every Friday, you knew you shouldn’t even be thinking about those kinds of things. 

Everything felt good, way too good. And with your luck you knew when things feel way too good, that means things were going to take a painful turn. 

Sitting criss cross on your living room couch alone in the house on a Tuesday afternoon, you were on the phone with Jim. As usual with a dumb happy grin on your face you guys talked and it ended up with him assisting you with your advice column on your laptop. 

“A twenty year old girl in college got heartbroken by her boyfriend she dated since childhood because he cheated on her and she wants to go back and talk to him but she knows it’s wrong. What should she do?” You asked as the grin never wavered from your lips. 

“Maybe go to more parties and get wasted and she’ll find another guy by the end of the second semester?” You jokingly snickered as you leaned back against the couch, your muscles easing into the cushions. Hearing Jim’s light chuckle on the other line of the phone. 

“God no. What kind of fucking advice is that?” Jim asked playfully, still chuckling softly, you could feel your heart flutter at the sound that came from him.

“Okay, Okay, fine– I am not going to say that. But she is only twenty and she has so many other things to worry about other than a boy. Like her possible career and her friends and her future! And she should try and focus on that instead.” You exclaimed. 

“That is much better. Way better than the last answer.” Jim responded, causing you to laugh softly, shaking your head slightly as your gaze stared down at your laptop, your fingers gently pressing on the letters on your keyboard, typing up your answer. 

“Alright done, give this a listen.” 

“Shoot.” 

You cleared your throat a little bit as you began to read. “You lost someone important to you, and how you feel is completely valid. But you have to feel your feelings out, and try to focus on what’s really important. Such as yourself, your career, and future– going back to him won’t change what happened. Remember that you have friends and family to support you. And that you’re not alone in this. All you can do is try to take care of yourself.”

Jim was silent, as you finished reading which caused you to fiddle in your seat a little. 

“Thoughts?” You asked wondering what he was thinking. 

“That was good, pretty good.” He responded nonchalantly, almost being blunt which caused you to worry a little bit, your grin faltering slightly. 

“Is that all? Should I add more? It sounds like you don’t like it.” You asked reluctantly. 

Jim was quick to encounter your statement. “No,no,no! I do. I really do like it. It’s really sweet of you, It’s lovely, you’re lovely.” 

You could feel the blood rushing up into your cheeks, turning into a harsh crimson hue. Who knew a  simple compliment could make you feel so smitten? Silence hovered over the two of you for a moment until Jim was the first one to break it. 

“Y/N?” He called out to you softly pulling you out from your daze. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to go silent on you.” You chuckled nervously. It was just his last comment.

“No it’s fine..” He paused for a moment. “I don’t know what has come over me.” Jim said softly back to his timid tone. This only made your heart race once more as you sighed softly. 

“I appreciate it, thank you for being my assistant.” You did your best to save this conversation from turning tense. And it felt like it didn’t make the slightest difference. 

“I mean it, you know?” 

You paused once more the burning sensation in your cheeks didn’t change. Now intently listening to him as you can hear him about to say more. 

“You really are lovely, Y/N..I mean it.” 

There it was…That tension again, the suffocating tension that made you feel like you were drowning. And within that moment, like a wave crashing and meeting the ocean shore,  you knew that you were falling hard for him, wiping the grin that was on your lips away. 

 Then the golden band on his finger flashed in your mind. 

No, you can’t do this. 

“Jim, what do you mean by that?” You asked him hesitantly yet firmly as you removed your laptop from your grasp before grabbing your phone, taking it off of the speaker and pressing it against your ear. 

“What do you mean by what I mean?” He asked, sounding a bit taken back by your sudden question. “Did I say something wrong?” 

“No, I was just…I don’t know how to explain it but that felt like more than a compliment.” You stated as you paused once more, were you overthinking this? You were about to open your mouth to cut the silence but then Jim interrupted you. 

“Because it was more than a compliment.” 

In that moment, It was as if something took over your body and possessed you, this confession spilled from your lips like vomit.

 “Jim, I think I am falling for you.” You breathed out.  

Then a tense silence completely consumed the both of you. 

Oh fuck, did I really say that!? You mentally wanted to slam your face against the table. Fuck, you had to fix this quick. No, there was no way of fixing this now, you fucking blew it. 

“Jim, I'm sorry. You’re married and I shouldn’t have said that. Fuck, I am an idiot, I am so so sorry.” You began to ramble, not letting Jim be able to interrupt you. “Y/N wait, wait-” but you weren’t listening as your thumb slammed on the red at the bottom of your screen ending the call. 

This was a long awaited painful turn that you’ve brought on yourself. Now all that was left was you and your panicked and raging thoughts. You clearly took it too far, getting caught up in the moment that it left you feeling like an idiot.

 

♱

 It was your day off today from the Pilates studio and you didn’t have to do much for your advice column. So for the rest of that morning you took the time to clean up the house. Mary was in school so it was just you alone at home– singing softly to yourself as you were finishing up with doing laundry. Neatly folding what was last of the laundry in your basket, feeling the warmth of the fresh cotton fabric between your fingers before placing it with the other piles of clothes on your bed. 

It has been two days since your confession with Jim. You did what was best for you, and you began ignoring his texts and dodged his calls. This was morally wrong and you didn’t want to embarrass yourself even more.

“And you know damn well..For you, I would ruin myself, A million little times..”

You sang softly as the tender melody came to an end on your phone dying down, you would glance at your phone a few times that was sitting on your nightstand, in hopes you would catch your phone displaying Jim’s name across the screen but to your disappointment it didn’t, why would it? So you can ignore it more or have a war with yourself whether you should drop the silent treatment or not?  No. At this point you would understand why he would give up. 

A gentle sigh leaving your lips as your mind begins to aimlessly wander about your conflicted feelings. You want to believe that it would remain as a friendship but you knew damn well that slowly this entire time it turned more than a friendship to you. Feelings were completely one sided, he was married and he was only being kind to you because both of your daughters are friends. You were scared that harboring these feelings would become so heavy that eventually it’ll crush you and it did. You were playing with fire and you got burned.

Just as the next song on your phone began to play, a loud knock on your front door echoed throughout the house shaking you out of your thoughts. Feeling your brows knit together you walked out of your room heading towards the front door.

 Who could that be?

 You wondered as your hand gently grasped the doorknob pulling it open to reveal Jim gazing at you with a bit of desperate yet defeated expression with his phone in hand. 

It was like you were faced with a jumpscare as you felt your eyes widen and without thinking you tried to close the door on Jim but he was too quick as he managed to slip his shoe between the door leaving it ajar. “Y-Y/N, please can we talk? Please just for a second.” He said in a deep raspy tone. His voice crack manages to burn itself into your mind. 

You stood still for a moment before opening the door more widely for him to step into your house, now alone just between you and the married man you had fallen for. You took a few steps back away from him with your arms folded over your chest, your gaze not leaving his form. Once he was inside the house he closed the door behind him– “You didn’t think of picking up your phone when I called you? Or my texts?” He asked, sounding a bit tired as his piercing yet stunning ripples of ocean blue gaze bore into yours, spawning goosebumps on your skin. 

“How could I after that? So I can embarrass myself some more?” You asked with sarcasm evidently dripping from your tone as you watched Jim roll his eyes a little at your remark. “I am serious, Y/N.” He said, sounding a little more soft as he took a step towards you. 

“So am I, Jim. You’re my friend, I was stupid, I shouldn’t have said what I said, you’re married and–” You weren’t sure how much your heart could take at this moment. It was hammering so hard that it felt like it was building something, along with the backflips your stomach was doing it was becoming agonizing. 

You could feel his warmth from where you were standing as you broke away from his gaze as you turned your head away from him but only for Jim to gingerly cup your cheek turning your face back to look at him immediately putting an end to your rambles. “Hang on a second, hang on a second Y/N..” Jim said his tone was still soft, as he looked down at you his lips curled slightly down forming a frown his eyebrows knitted slightly together causing a little wrinkles to form between them. His touch was so warm you did your best not to melt into him. 

“This is so fucking mortifying Jim, you shouldn’t even be here.” You could feel your throat go dry as your eyes became misty, placing your hand over his shoulder weakly attempting to push him away but he stayed still in his spot. “Listen to me, please.” You kept your gaze down refusing to meet his gaze.

 “You’re not an idiot for telling me how you felt that day alright? Don’t think that I haven’t thought of you the same way. I have. If I didn't, I wouldn’t have told you that a compliment was meant to be more.” Jim exclaimed quietly a gentle airy dry chuckle leaving his lips as his thumb gently caressed your cheekbone. You only shook your head as you used your freehand to gently pull his hand away from your cheek and it only resulted in him intertwining your fingers together. 

“You’re lying.You were just being polite.” You said your breathing became uneven, clenching your jaw slightly– you didn’t realize how you were shaking in his grasp. Jim only continued to keep you close and you couldn’t find yourself pulling away from him, your hand still in his. 

This was happening, really happening. 

“I-I, Why would I lie to you about that?” He asked in a genuine yearning tone. “Because you feel bad for me. I am a single mother alone here with no one to talk to of course you would.” You snapped suddenly feeling a little aggressive but Jim didn’t seem fazed by it. 

“That isn’t true at all, Y/N. Not even close.” You can detect the hurt and how despondent he felt in his voice, the need to prove himself to you. You remained silent as you continued averting your gaze from his and he seemed to notice it as he called out to you once more. 

“Look at me..” 

You closed your eyes for a moment, keeping your chin faintly down completely avoiding his gaze, as you knew if you looked at him you would completely succumb to him. 

“Y/N… Look at me.”  He softly implored once more. 

After a few moments, you sighed quietly and you finally complied, opening your eyes looking back up at him as he gazed down at you with a gentle expression. It was like he knew how fragile you felt in this moment. You watched at how his eyes flickered at your features to your eyes then back to your lips, causing your features to soften. 

Both of you remained silent as he gently squeezed your hand before releasing your hand, attentively, he placed your palm against his chest. You can feel his heart beating rapidly against your palm, like his heart was trying to burst free from his chest cavity. “Feel that?” Jim breathed out as he gazed down at you, keeping your palm firmly against his chest. “My heart is beating out of my chest, Y/N.. Can you feel how fast it’s going?” He asked, a bit breathless with a faint smile. 

You didn’t realize how close you two were as your faces were inches from each other, breath gently fanning against your lips–the tip of his nose gently grazing yours. “Yeah..” You only murmured now a little airy laugh slipped from your lips at how this felt like you were in a scene of a movie, but it wasn’t this was in fact real as your forehead lightly rested against his. 

Jim wasn’t lying as you could literally feel how anxious he was in your palm. His heart beating against your hand, you knew you weren’t just feeling how nervous he was. You were feeling how much he cared about you. 

How his heart was beating for you…

Feeling his dark tresses brush against your forehead, you released an inaudible shaky exhale. Your fingers curling up now grasping his shirt, his lips gently brushing against yours sending sparks throughout your being. This was all becoming too much, as it felt like Jim read your mind. “Fuck it..” He whispered as he closed the distance between you, eagerly capturing your lips with his as his fingers now rested on the side of your head keeping you still. 

That’s right.. Fuck it.

You could feel your heated skin crawl by how powerful the emotion behind his kisses. His kisses fill you with nothing but thoughts of him, you didn’t hesitate to return his kisses matching his passion. He was invading your mind, body and soul– you desperately pulled him closer. Wanting him to take everything you have, wanting his thoughts to be filled with you too as your lips moved languidly together with fervor. 

A gentle gasp left your lips as you felt his tongue swipe at your bottom lip before slipping into your mouth tasting you. A deep groan erupted from his mouth, god you loved his groans, he wanted you and he wanted to let you know that he did. The way his lips moved with yours, the sound of your breaths swallowing each other’s as your hands explored each other’s bodies leaving a firework like sensation through your clothed skin. 

It left you ravenous for more. 

“Jump..” Jim whispered against your lips, you immediately obeyed as you jumped, and instantly you felt his hands catch you. Your legs draped around his waist as his hands were under your thighs keeping you still now walking you to your room impressively without breaking the feverish kisses, tongues tangled, and hands squeezing and gripping each other. 

Jim effortlessly shoved away your neatly folded laundry off the bed before gently placing you on the mattress. Everything seemed to fade into a beautiful blur as you felt your back melt into the mattress, his body hovering over yours, as nothing else seemed to matter anymore. What only mattered was you and Jim in this moment, exploring these intense emotions that you both held for each other. Keeping your legs around his torso, diminishing the space between you two, you felt his restrained erection from his jeans as he gently grinded his hips against yours causing a moan to escape from your small frame but only to be muffled by his soft lips that were against yours. 

There was no stopping now, as you could feel the warm dampness pool in your underwear– your bodies molding together like colors on a canvas. Your hands slipped underneath his shirt feeling the movement of his back muscles moving beneath your touch. Jim then pulled away from the kiss now sitting up causing you to grunt quietly out of disapprovement wanting him to come back as he quickly discarded his ebony quarter sleeve top revealing his chest. With half lidded dazed eyes you watched as he gazed down at you with his sharp sunken ocean blue optics that were clouded with nothing but desire for you. 

Both of you were breathing heavily, aching to taste each other’s lips once more. “May I?” He asked softly as his fingers gently fiddled with the hem of your shirt. You nodded your head giving him consent to remove your white oversized t-shirt. You knew you weren’t wearing a bra underneath your shirt. You were at home, so why would you wear one? 

He swiftly removed your top, revealing your breasts– the cool air nipped at your heated skin feeling your nipples turn hard from the little breeze. In a pleasurable haze you continued to watch the way his lashes fluttered against his freckled cheeks as your heaving bosom was now exposed for him to take in. His gazed burned into your skin causing you to shiver once more, watching his lust filled eyes rake down from your exposed neck to your torso. You felt so bare in front of him, it was as if your skin was translucent and he could see right through you. 

Reading your thoughts, your emotions, your heart– it made you flushed. That was another thing you adore about him, how blue his eyes were and how a simple glance from him can make you shiver. Jim then leaned back down over you but this time you felt his fingertips delicately trace your body feeling every contour of your skin,  trailing his fingertips from your abdomen to the valley of your chest to your cheek, while he was using his other arm to hold himself over you so he wouldn’t crush you completely with his weight. 

You sucked in a sharp inhale as you felt his face lean in towards you nuzzling his nose in the nape of your neck before pressing featherlike kisses on your neck. Your eyes fluttered to a close tilting your head more to the side giving him more access to your neck, your cheek resting against his palm.  Jim didn’t hesitate to nibble and kiss as much of your skin as possible leaving you breathless.

You were aching so bad for him that it began to hurt. You could feel his lips at one spot before going to another and next thing you know he was everywhere, just worshiping you with his lips. His lips trailing down to your body, going from your neck, collarbone, then to your heaving breast. “You’re so beautiful..” Jim whispered as he kissed the center of your chest where your heartbeat was. His praise causes your pussy to clench at nothing but air.

“Jim..” You whimpered out softly as you needed him. “I got you, sweetheart. Just let me enjoy this.” He murmured as he then lowered his mouth to your breasts and glided his tongue across your nipple, earning a moan out of you as he covered your right breast with his mouth completely. While his other hand slipped past the waistband of your pajama shorts, into your underwear. You gasped softly at the cool sensation of his fingers feeling the slit of your wet folds. “You’re so wet, for me Y/N...” Jim chuckled quietly before moving his mouth to tend your other breast giving it the same attention. 

Patience was treading on thin ice with you, and you knew Jim was teasing you. And you damn well knew that he wasn’t lying either. Your underwear was beyond saving considering how aroused you were, seriously you swore you felt your arousal drip between your inner thighs until you felt Jim’s middle finger flick against your throbbing nub between your legs causing your body to jolt with a moan spilling from your lips. 

Jim took notice as he continued circling your clit with his finger feeling up your juices before slipping in his middle finger into your pussy with a gentle squelch noise. “Fuck Jim!” You whined softly in ecstasy feeling your head fall back deeper against the pillow your eyes still clamped shut as Jim pumped his finger in and out of you in a slow pace before building speed, his middle finger curling up inside of you hitting your g spot within your warm tight wet walls. 

You felt Jim pull away from your breasts before pressing his lips back onto yours muffling your moans as his tongue slipped back into your mouth mingling with yours, he then added another finger stretching you out once more causing you to whimper against his lips, as he fucked you fast and hard with his fingers despite the little room he had in your shorts and underwear.

Clearly he was preparing you and this was the only start of what was going to happen. With so much pleasure you were desperate to hold onto something, as your hands found his shoulders gripping him for dear life, the knot in your tummy beginning growing tighter, your folds fluttering shut against his fingers.

God, you have forgotten how good it felt to be touched like this, to have someone’s undivided attention on you and your pleasure alone. As the only times you had sex they would either finish too fast and leave you unsatisfied or they would make you focus on them. Not Jim, he wanted to infiltrate your thoughts with his touch, his lips– everything he possibly could and you were letting him. 

Jim then pulled his fingers out of you, quickly slipping off your shorts and underwear down to your ankles and you kicked them to the side before Jim reattached his coated fingertips to your clit. Swiping his fingers against your anching nub once more, he pulled away from your lips as you both breathed heavily in unison. You could feel your mind submerge into a euphoric haze feeling your climax creeping up on you. “You have no fucking idea how long I’ve been wanting to do this with you, sweetheart.” He whispered into your ear before nibbling your earlobe causing you to gasp softly. “M-Me too Jim..” You breathed out shuddering against his body feeling each rub from his finger sent more intense ripples of pleasure to your stomach. 

Jim then sank his fingers back into you to the knuckle curling them immaculately against your g spot once more with precision. And just like that you felt the knot become undone in your stomach as immense waves of pleasure your orgasm ripped through you sending you over to the edge. Loud mewls escaped your lips as Jim stilled his fingers inside of you, feeling your throbbing walls clamp down on his fingers. 

You both laid there breathless for a moment as Jim pressed gentle kisses around your face while you were coming down from your high. “You okay?” He asked you softly as he placed a gentle kiss on your neck pulling his fingers out from you causing you to whimper quietly from the loss of his fingers. Weakly, you nodded your head slowly catching your breath, “Jim, I want you..” you said in an airy tone as your hand reached down to his erection that was bulging from his jeans, your fingers tracing the outline evicting a sharp inhale from him.

Jim immediately obliged as he helped you pull down his pants along with his boxers allowing his cock sprung free from it’s restraints making him sigh out of relief. You couldn’t help to drool slightly at the sight of his length– how long and thick it was as it hung from his body. You weren’t sure if you wanted to taste him or have him inside of you- either way both of those thoughts were making you ache heavily with desire. 

Jesus, his wife really did hit the jackpot with this man. 

A shaky exhale left your lips as Jim gently caressed your cheek with his thumb before gently pushing you back against the mattress, his eyes fixated on you. He rose on his knees as you were now able to take in the sight of his exposed body– now his firm erection only a few inches away from your dripping entrance. “Open up your legs for me, darling.” He demanded softly with his large hands pushing your legs apart gently. His voice was deep and breathless that sent another wave of shivers throughout your body. 

Fuck, these pet names he was calling you — were going to kill you. 

Without hesitation you spread your thighs wider for him, now being completely bare and open to him. “Good girl..” Jim praised with a little smirk tugging on his lips, causing your heart to flutter. 

You were holding in your breath as you watched his hips with one gentle fluid motion he thrusted into you making you cry out loudly, your walls stretching with an intense pressure slowly filling you up only halfway in. “Are you alright? Do you want to stop?” He asked with concern as he gazed down at you; his dark graying tresses disheveled, his large hands holding your thighs keeping you still. He was so kind, it was making you melt beneath him. “I-I’m okay, keep going.” You whispered as you began to grip his shoulders once more, your nails sinking into his skin . 

“That’s my girl..” Jim praised once more as he leaned down to kiss your forehead. He was so hot, you never would even think Jim would have this side of him. He then shifted his knees before thrusting into you completely, his cock deeply sheathed into you. Your mouth fell open as a loud moan spilled from your lips, your eyes clamped shut once more– god, you felt so impossibly full.  Jim completely invades you as your bodies are finally connected in the best way. Your thighs squeezed against his waist but he only pushed them apart tenderly. “Ah, F-Fuck..” He groaned out shakily, as he admired the way his cock completely vanished inside of you before closing his eyes allowing his head to fall forward slightly. 

You opened your eyes as you breathed heavily, adjusting to his size– his moans making you clench around causing him to gasp. Your desire growing insatiably stronger, you rolled your hips against his desperately pulling a loud moan out of you as you felt the head of his penis kiss your cervix. A deep grunt left his lips as he leaned down towards you releasing your thighs– his chest now pressed against yours as both of his elbows were resting on either sides of your head. 

Immediately he began thrusting into you with a slow moderate pace as your body moved up and down slightly with a string of moans spilling from your lips– pleasure completely consuming your body. Jim released a breath as he managed to grab both of your hands intertwining your fingers together pinning them next to your head as his hips slammed against yours. 

You turned your head away as you whimpered loudly at how he continued hitting your cervix with perfect precision, “Y/N… Keep your eyes on me.” Jim demanded his voice dark and low. Your body shuddered as you obliged, turning your head to look at him to find him already gazing at you with half lidded eyes that were nothing but filled with affection and lust. 

Both of your gazes burned into each other as his thrusts became more relentless, making you feel like you were on cloud nine of pleasure and ecstasy. Jim groaned as he felt your walls clamp around him tight not wanting to let him go– nevertheless he didn’t ease his hard and fast pace. All that was heard in your bedroom was the sound of wet bodies clashing together, as his cock brushed against your clit causing you to arch your back, your chest melting into his, your hands squeezing his. “S-Shit, you feel so good, Jim..” You mewled as your bodies continued moving together in sync. 

The friction between you made you burn with desire. “You feel even better, Y-Y/N..Fuck..” He gasped out as his face scrunched up slightly at how tight you were, his mouth hanging slightly open as heavy breaths escaped his parted lips as he aimed to make you come first. You could feel yourself slipping, getting lost in Jim, truly no other thoughts that weren’t anything else but him.

 You then wrapped your legs around his hips causing him to sink deeper into you making you both moan out loud in unison, the familiar coil in your stomach began to form knowing you were about to reach your climax for the second time as your heavy breathing began to become unsteady.

Jim then pressed his lips against yours in an eager open mouthed kiss, like he knew you were close and he continued plunging himself deeply into you as he was getting close to his own climax as well.  

“I-I’m close..” You breathlessly stammered against his lips as his teeth sank down at your bottom lip before pulling away and releasing it. “Come for me, sweetheart.” Jim whispered as he watched you tremble against his body squeezing his hands tightly as your body was pressed deeper into the mattress. You then cried out as your body arched against him, you felt the knot in your stomach finally snap as your climax washed over you with the familiar waves of pleasure.

Frail moans left your lips as Jim quickened his pace as he used your limp body to chase his climax before releasing a loud groan, his hips stuttering slightly before being buried deep inside of you as he ejaculated his semen, staining your walls.

Jim stayed still for a second  trying to catch his breath before slowly pulling out of you causing you to whimper softly as he collapsed on top of you, his head resting against your chest, both of your naked bodies lightly coated with sweat. Your head was spinning, your mind completely lost in a fog as you both basked in the afterglow of this moment. 

Once your breathing became steady again as you slowly came down from your high you felt Jim roll off of you as he laid next to you leaving you still laying on your back as you two went silent.

Even the silence felt so loud.

He then pulled the comforters over your naked bodies as he laid on his side facing you. You could feel his gaze burn into the side of your face as you kept your eyes on the ceiling finally processing what just happened. 

“Hey..” Jim called out to you quietly as he scooted closer to you draping his lightly freckled arm around your body pulling you close as you turned to face him on your side, you can tell that he hated when things go quiet like this.

Your little panic gaze burned into his, and he already knew how you were feeling. “Y/N..Talk to me.” Jim begged as he gently cradled your cheek with his palm which you instinctively melted into.

You sighed deeply into his touch, your mind unsure if having sex even fixed anything between you two, if anything it added more fuel to the fire of your problems. 

And this is where you knew that you messed up..

Big time. 

***

PART 2 COMING SOON ;)

I hope you guys enjoyed it ! First one shot for this page. And honestly this is the first smut I’ve ever written so I hope I did Jim Justice but bro was so romantic. I apologize for any grammar error or anything that looks weird- But anyways, thank you guys for reading! ♡

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[say-al0e]

Night Changes

Rating: M | This is smut! No one under 18! Minors, DNI!

Summary: Jake’s set on skinny dipping. You’re afraid of what that means for your friendship. But he’s always got a plan. | Ft. “How many times have you jerked off to me?” + “Shut up and take your pants off.” requested by Anon.

Warnings: Slight exhibitionism (they’re in a pool but it’s private?), feelings, anxiety, one mention of a guy being creepy (not Jake), unprotected PinV, unrealistic understandings of the Navy and definitely unrealistic expectations of pool sex.

Pairing: Hangman x fem!Reader

Word Count: 6.2k (whoops, welcome back I guess)

Top Gun Taglist | Top Gun Masterlist

“Jake, nothing you can say will convince me to go skinny dipping.”

Quiet laughter, amused and unbothered by your reluctance to yield - yet, as Jake had you wrapped around his finger and knew you would give in sooner rather than later - filled the small backyard as he grinned. From the corner of your eye, you could see him; bathed in the warm glow of lights, strung up around the back porch for moments like this. Soft shadows were cast across his face, highlighting the curve of his jaw and slope of his neck as he reached for his rapidly warming beer and you were struck, if only briefly, by the thought that he looked like a leading man from some cheesy film.

Just as quickly as the thought crossed your mind, however, Jake brought you back to the conversation at hand. “And why not?”

With a sigh, you tipped your head to the side to take him in, eyes narrowed as you allowed the question to linger. It was rare to see him dressed down - you’d gotten so used to seeing him in khaki that anything else almost seemed wrong - but he looked effortless in the soft button-down he’d left mostly unbuttoned. Leave had given him the opportunity to destress, to relax on the beach and enjoy a few deep breaths, and you were still surprised he’d chosen to spend most of it with you.

Yet, here you were, for the eighth night in a row.

For the eighth night in a row, you found yourself at Jake’s side. Rather than sitting on a beach, you found yourself surrounded by the warm night air - still and sticky and lingering in the verge of stifling - lounging on a soft deck chair in his backyard.

California summer had yet to arrive but you were already dreading it as a spring heatwave, accompanied by sunny skies and too-high electric bills, nearly made you miss the chill of the east coast. But, try as you might, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret taking the opportunity as your gaze drifted to Jake’s face once more.

That teasing grin of his made your heart beat just a touch too fast, an occurrence you were slowly growing used to, and your breath feel that much harder to catch. But it was pointless. Though you hadn’t known Jake for that long, you knew him well enough to know that for all the pretty smiles and flirty remarks, none of it meant what you so desperately hoped it would.

Falling for Jake Seresin would only end in disappointment so you hid your lovesick sigh behind a roll of your eyes as you reached for your own drink.

“For one,” you began, sparing a glance around the backyard he’d finally gotten to make use of, “this fence is ridiculously low and I can’t say I have any intentions of flashing your neighbors.” While you had no doubt they were already asleep - they were an elderly couple, in bed with the sun every evening and capable of tuning out every noise you made - you were enjoying Jake’s attempts to convince you.

“Two, Coyote’s just going to dinner. He’ll be back eventually,” you reminded him, raising a brow as he laughed. His lips parted to interject but you waved him off with a dismissive hand. “And three,” you directed your full attention to him, then, “who says I want to see you naked?”

Jake shook his head in exaggerated disbelief as he laughed. His knee nudged your own as he shifted in his chair, ensuring your full attention was on him as he met your eyes. “One, I’m well aware of where we are and how low the fence is. You know my neighbors are asleep and won’t wake up until the sun rises. Two, he’s out on a date. He’s not coming back tonight.” His grin morphed into something a little more mischievous then - flirty and honeyed, exactly what he used to get his way with beautiful women at the Hard Deck - and made you want to roll your eyes as he eyed the skin exposed by your shorts. “Three,” he continued after a moment’s pause, “I’ve seen the way you look at me. When we’re at the beach, or the pool, or the bar… You definitely want to see me naked.”

Every word was true, brazenly honest in a way only Jake could get away with, and he knew it. Still, you refused to give him the satisfaction of openly admitting just how badly you wanted that - how badly you wanted him. “Your ego does not need my validation, Jake.”

As he always seemed to be, Jake remained unbothered by your rolling eyes and refusal to admit what you both knew to be true. Instead, he simply took a moment to soak in the sight of you.

Those green eyes blazed a path across your skin, gaze sharp and warm with every sweep across exposed thighs and a sliver of stomach. Jake was never shy about checking you out, always appreciative of the view you allowed him, and this moment was no different. Even as every fiber of your being begged for him to look elsewhere, to give you a moment to catch your breath, he simply swiped his tongue across his bottom lip and returned his gaze to yours.

“I’m not too proud to admit that I want your validation, sweetheart.”

There was little you could do to stop the shaking breath that escaped your lips - one you knew Jake heard clearly, if the amused twitch of his mouth was any indicator. That drawl grew a little thicker with every beer he drank, accent stronger and voice a little rougher; when combined with the weight of his gaze, the honey of his voice, the way it all dipped a little lower any time he had a specific request for it, reduced your thoughts to few and far between. Forming a coherent sentence was difficult, but you managed to retain enough self-preservation to know that this was a bad idea.

“Still no.”

Jake’s eyes narrowed playfully then. He’d always been able to read you, to tell what you were thinking with startling ease, and you could see that he was searching for discomfort. The moment you seriously told him to drop it, to let this fantasy of romping around in the moonlight go, he would without a second of hesitation. But this was the game you both loved to play.

Toeing the line between friendship and something more, between playful banter and a simmering desire that left you certain you could fall in love with Jake Seresin - if he’d only fall with you - had become your normal. From the moment you met, there’d been something simmering beneath the surface but, as of late, it seemed to be bubbling higher than usual. Every conversation had grown heavier, weighed down by the potential future you were certain only you saw, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop.

Neither could Jake, it seemed, as he offered, “What if I promise to change your oil?”

Jake never seemed the handyman type - he never seemed the type to get dirty, full stop - but he’d proven himself capable. And where you were concerned, it seemed he had no qualms about maintaining his perfect appearance. “You promised to do that anyway,” you reminded him, pausing to take a sip of your drink. “After that skeevy guy wouldn’t leave me alone at the mechanic’s last time.”

A flash of annoyance crossed his face - not at you, you knew, but at the memory of your call when things had gotten more uncomfortable than you were willing to handle alone - before he nodded. “Yeah, you’re not goin’ back there. Alright, what if I promise to change the air filter in your apartment?”

“Even though the hall closet is creepy and I hate it?”

That smile returned, softer but more assured - he’d chosen the best bargaining chip and he knew it. “Especially because the hall closet is creepy and you hate it. Any other demands, sweetheart?”

“I kind of like hearing you beg.” Jake’s brows winged up at your teasing comment, unable to hide his surprise as you tipped your head to hide your smile. The innuendos were his forte, tossed out any time you gave him a half a chance, but you see his grin growing just a touch larger as you shrugged. “Throw in on-demand spider killing when you’re home and I’m in.”

“I don’t beg, darlin’, but for you? I’d consider it.” Jake struck a nerve and he could tell. When you flustered, choking down a sip of your drink to swallow the warmth creeping up your chest at the mental image of Jake begging - for you, no less - he grinned. It was triumphant, easy in the knowledge that he’d won, as he declared, “All you gotta do is give me a call and I’m there. No begging necessary.”

Though the comment dripped innuendo, was teasing and designed to see you fluster, Jake meant it wholeheartedly. He’d proven himself loyal, eager to answer your call even when he probably shouldn’t, and softened just for you.

Moments like that - when Jake seemed a little softer around the edges, so willing to give you whatever you asked for without expectation -  answered the question your friends seemed most stuck on. What had you seen in Jake, the flirty jerk at the bar, that they couldn’t?

They saw the pretty smiles and the subtle flexing at the bar. They heard the flirty remarks and thinly veiled innuendos. They witnessed the flattery he heaped on the women before you - and then you, when he’d given you his full attention - and the way he softened, just a little, in your presence. But they had yet to see the Jake you found yourself falling for hard and fast.

This Jake, the one who laughed and teased and could still be a pain in the ass, all while keeping a sharp eye on your feelings - ready to redirect in an effort to make you comfortable the moment he took a step too far - was one only you got the privilege to see. This Jake, the one who would still change your oil and the air filter in your apartment and kill all the spiders, regardless of whether you let him see you naked, was one you were glad to keep to yourself. And even though you feared losing him the moment you fell into bed with him, you still found yourself relenting.

“Fine.” Despite your best attempt at nonchalance, you knew Jake could hear the waver in your agreement. While you were eager, excited to see him, you found yourself suddenly afraid. There was no guarantee he’d like what he saw, no one guarantee he’d be able to look you in the eye after, so you demanded, “You have to close your eyes when I take off my clothes.”

Triumphant, Jake rolled his eyes at your demand and eyed your exposed thighs once more. “Sure,” he agreed easily, shrugging off the doubt he realized you carried. “But it’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before,” he reminded you, lifting his beer.

Jake swore up and down that it was an accident and that he hadn’t seen much. He had a bad habit of entering rooms without knocking and you were inclined to believe him. He’d still been able to look you in the eye, hadn’t treated you any differently, but that did little to stop you from teasing him as it kept you from thinking too hard. “That’s only because you have no sense of decorum and just burst into rooms like you own the place.”

With a roll of his eyes, Jake stood from his chair. He paused for a moment to down the rest of his beer before offering you a hand. “Shut up and take off your pants.”

As you stood, skin growing warmer with every passing second - hopeful that Jake couldn’t feel the searing heat of your palm as he clasped it in his own - you kicked off your sandals. “You first, cowboy.”

Instead of teasingly insisting you lead the way, Jake grinned. He was shameless, reveled in the attention he was given at the beach - truly enjoyed the feeling of being seen - so without a moment of hesitation, he flew through the remaining buttons of his shirt and tossed it onto the lounge chair. With every inch of skin exposed, you could feel your heart rate climbing higher. He was right, you’d savored the sight of him shirtless on a beach or in the pool any chance you were given and this was certainly no exception. 

Knowing that you would see all of him - whether you intended to or not - had your breath catching in your throat as his hands fell to the waistband of his shorts. “You can look.” Jake laughed, entirely unbothered at the idea of standing before you bare, when you shifted your gaze from the exposed dip of his hip to the fence to your left. “I’m sure you’ll like what you see.”

As tempted as you were, you shook your head. “Damn ego.” It wasn’t quite as sharp as you intended, nowhere near as strong, but it made Jake laugh a little harder as you caught sight of his shorts - sans briefs, because of course - joining his shirt on the chair. “Get in the water and turn away so I can get undressed.”

“You’re really takin’ all the fun outta this, you know?” Despite his complaint - teasing and entirely a joke, ready to be walked back the moment you took offense - he complied. You heard the splash of water as he jumped in, followed by a sharp sound of surprise at the temperature, before he continued. “You’re just delayin’ the inevitable, sweetheart. We’ll both see somethin’ when you get in.”

Again, Jake was right. You knew that - didn’t need that honeyed drawl that made you weak in the knees to spell it out for you - but delaying the inevitable made it easier to toss your own shirt into the pile he’d created. It helped you swallow the potentiality of destroying your friendship with Jake for one night of fun, helped you swallow that there was very likely no future in which this turned into something more, and you held onto that delay like a lifeline as you shook your head.

“Beggars can’t be choosers, cowboy.”

Behind you, a splash sounded and told you that Jake was giving you the space you needed. He often attempted to push you out of your comfort zone, to encourage you to try new things, but this was one moment he knew you needed. So instead of watching, eyeing you in a way you only dreamed of, he took to splashing around the water as you reached for the waistband of your shorts with shaking fingers.

Though you were eager to keep your friendship with Jake as it was, you knew that there would eventually be a tipping point. Everything you’d built was tenuous, lingering on that fine line between platonic and romantic, and would come to a head sooner rather than later. The line you’d been toeing would be crossed and, as much as it pained you to come to that realization, you knew that it would be easier to handle whatever came now rather than later on when you’d fallen too far to pull yourself free.

Jake wasn’t a relationship kind of guy, you knew that and attempted to brace yourself as you fully committed to giving yourself one moment with him - an unforgettable night in which you felt the full measure of his desire - but you still held tight to an ounce of hope as you shucked off your bra and panties.

Following Jake’s lead, you jumped straight into the water.

When you emerged, nearly freezing as your overheated body adjusted to the water, Jake cheered. It was quiet enough to avoid waking the neighbors but still managed to make you fluster as you felt anxious laughter bubbling in your throat. This was new and you knew Jake could tell as he swam to the shallow end.

“Sometimes, you just gotta live a little, sweetheart.”

Jake stood in the shallow end, ran a hand through his dripping hair, and made no effort to hide his laughter as you turned your attention to the stars. “You know, I always saw people do this in movies and thought it’d be fun.” When you spared him a quick glance, pointedly meeting his eyes rather than allowing yourself to peek, Jake raised a brow in question. “It’s not bad."

True to his word, Jake kept his eyes above the water - though it would’ve been almost too easy for him to steal a glance at your bare body. Even as he began to swim once more, floating closer slowly, he was careful not to let his gaze wander. “We used to do this all the time,” he admitted, drifting deeper into the pool. “Spent our summers in the water. Didn’t matter if we had suits or not. Summer after I graduated, I spent most every night at the creek.”

The soft combination of lights - moonlight, lights strung up around the yard - cast soft shadows across Jake’s body as he swam. Though you tried your hardest not to look, it was impossible not to notice the muscles of his back and shoulders as he pushed through the water. Every inch of him was beautiful, almost annoyingly so, but you swallowed your creeping lust with a playful scoff.

“You’re telling me you went swimming in wild Texas water, naked?” When Jake shrugged, unfazed, you shook your head and allowed yourself to float a little closer. “I’m amazed you made it out with all your appendages still attached.”

“Appendages?” His nose wrinkled at your choice of words before he lifted his hand to flick water in your direction. “You’re such a fucking nerd, sweetheart.”

Very little space remained between you, with the pair of you having closed it almost entirely, but the closer you drew, the deeper into your own head you fell. While time with Jake had been as easy as breathing, natural and without thought most days, you suddenly felt paralyzed by the possibilities.

As he always seemed to, however, Jake noticed. He noticed your inability to really look at him, the way you glanced up at the sky or around the backyard instead of at him, and your hesitance to truly move. Jake noticed more than most people tended to give him credit for and you realized that as he urged, “Stop thinking. Just let go. Have fun.”

A part of you wanted to argue that it wasn’t as easy as it sounded, that letting go seemed impossible in that moment, but you bit your tongue. You allowed the part of yourself that had already given into the inevitable to take hold, to allow your shoulders to relax and your body to sink into the water, as you hummed.

“Yeah, okay. Let’s just swim.”

Jake lingered nearby, close enough that you could reach out and brush his arm if you turned just so, but kept enough space between you as you tried to calm your racing heart and even your breathing. There was nothing to be afraid of, nothing to think that hard about. It was Jake and, at the end of the day, that was all that mattered.

“You were right,” you finally relented, after a few peaceful minutes of silence. “This is nice.”

The water was warm enough to be pleasant but cool enough to ease the burning of your skin. And as time wore on, you forgot about your lack of a suit and focused on the feeling of drifting in the moonlight. Jake, on the other hand, had spent the few moments of quiet studying your face. And when you turned to meet his gaze, you found him already looking at you.

“I’m usually right,” he teased, grin a little softer than you were expecting. “It’s a gift.”

“Don’t push it, cowboy.”

Despite his earlier chivalry, Jake’s eyes roved your skin. You wondered how much was visible in the low light, if he could really see anything, but his face gave nothing away as he swam just a little closer. Green eyes grew darker, clouding with a heady combination of lust and something so tender it nearly made your heart beat out of your chest, as his gaze returned to yours.

“You never said I couldn’t look when you were in the water.” The reminder was soft, teasing, but it made you laugh and you knew that was his goal. In a moment of anxiety, you lifted an arm to cover your chest, and diverted your eyes as you shook your head. Jake, however, gave you no room to wallow in your hesitance. “No need to hide, sweetheart. You’re gorgeous.”

Another step closer, the warmth of his body warming the water around you even as you took a step back. With every inch, you drew closer to the wall and he lifted his hand to cover the concrete edge. “Jake.”

Those eyes, nearly blown black in the dim light of the backyard, shifted. The playful amusement you’d grown used to softened as he searched your face. Jake was never what you would call hesitant, always so steadfast and certain in his actions, but you appreciated the care he took to keep you comfortable as he waited just a beat for your breathing to even.

“Nothing has to happen here.” His voice was low, soft but serious as he reached out to cup your cheek. “If you want to get out, forget all about this and go watch a movie, we can,” he offered, thumb carefully brushing across your heated skin. “I only want this if you do.”

There was never a doubt in your mind that the moment you said the word, Jake would back off and forget any of this ever happened. The moment you said no, he’d climb out of the pool and search for towels, maybe even order takeout as you both lounged on his couch and placed bets on when Coyote would return home. He never pushed, never crossed your boundaries,  and you were grateful for his patience. While it often seemed to be in short supply for everyone else, Jake seemed to have an endless amount reserved for you.

Regardless of how the night ended, this was something you wanted. You’d longed for Jake’s touch since the moment you met, longed to feel his skin pressed to yours, but you couldn’t help yourself. You had to know. “I… is this a one time thing?”

The answer wouldn’t change much as even if it was, you didn’t think you could pretend. There was no turning back, no forgetting the warmth radiating from Jake’s body even as he kept a few inches of space between you, but you needed an answer. 

And if Jake was surprised by the question, he didn’t let on. Instead, he shook his head. The amusement you expected was absent as he regarded the question with a brevity you didn’t expect. “No.” It was certain, so confident that it nearly caught you off guard, but he carried on. “I can’t promise forever, but I want to see where this goes,” he admitted. “I’m here until you get tired of me.”

Occasional self-doubt bled through Jake’s certainty. There were moments he seemed to wonder if he was worth anything more than one night, if he had more to offer than sex and bravado, but you knew he did. You’d spent more time with Jake than with anyone else in recent months and there was no future in which you saw yourself growing tired of him.

“I don’t think that’ll happen.”

Little else seemed appropriate to say, little else seemed to matter in that moment. With Jake so close, green eyes focused entirely on you as he admitted that he wanted to explore a future that saw you falling together, all you could think about was giving in to the urge to kiss him.

So, you did.

As your hands lifted, one to the back of his neck - fingers tangling in the damp strands of hair - and the other to his bicep, Jake’s shoulders relaxed. He melted into your touch, heartbeat racing beneath the tips of your fingers, as you sank into one another. His body was impossibly warm, skin searing beneath your palms as you pressed yourself forward, and you reveled in it as your mouth sought his.

Jake’s lips, soft and warm, curved into a soft smile as his free hand found your waist. The beat of your heart felt too fast, too heavy, even as you attempted to focus on the feeling of his thrumming away beneath the tips of your fingers. To know that you had an effect on him, to know that you flustered him in the same way he flustered you, did wonders for your confidence as you pressed yourself even closer.

When his tongue pressed to the seam of your lips, eager to deep the kiss and sink entirely into you, the reprieve of the water was lost. There was only heat; the wall of muscle that was Jake’s body, the soft press of his hands as they gripped your hip, his mouth as he swallowed your noises of pleasure eagerly, his heavy groan as you forgot yourself and pressed even closer.

The press of Jake’s body against yours was distracting, silenced every thought that raced through your brain. You’d imagined this a thousand times before, dreamt about it more often than you cared to admit, but as his hands began to wander, you realized that nothing could live up to the reality. 

With every swipe of his fingers, touch teasing as he brushed along the expanse of your stomach - up your sides, just beneath the swell of your breast, right above your hip - your body grew warmer. It was all dizzying, more than you could’ve ever asked for and better than you dared to hope. 

Any thought of the future, the past, the moments in between, all ceased to exist as Jake nipped at your bottom lip. And when you broke the kiss to catch your breath, he simply redirected. His lips brushed along the curve of your jaw, down your throat, sending shivers down your spine as he pressed open-mouthed kisses to the damp skin.

Warm hands trailed lower, fingers wrapping around your thigh and lifting to hitch it over his hip as his teeth nipped at the pulse point just beneath your ear. “Thought about this,” he admitted, voice a deep rasp against your skin as he nosed at the hinge of your jaw. “Think about touching you every time I touch myself lately.”

The image of Jake touching himself, getting off to the thought of you, with his body pressed so close to yours was enough to make your body feel as if it’d been submerged in static. The tips of your fingers and toes tingled as the white hot ball in the pit of your stomach grew impossibly hotter. Every inch of him was painfully present - the taut muscles of his shoulders and back, the flex of his stomach with every move he made, the hard and heavy press of his cock against your hip - and made you desperate to feel him as you attempted to formulate a question.

“You’ve… how…?”

Luckily, Jake managed to follow your train of thought where you failed. “How many times have I jerked off to you?” A hum, this one of contemplation as his mouth dipped lower, lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. “I’ve lost track, sweetheart,” he admitted, pausing only to mouth at the valley of your breasts. “I haven’t taken anyone home in months,” he reminded you. “Just wanted you. Thinkin’ about you was the next best thing.”

As difficult as it was to formulate a coherent sentence, you blinked through the static. “Thought about you.” It was breathless, a confession floating in the wind as Jake’s hands lifted to your breasts, touch certain as he kneaded the soft skin. “Wanted this, you.”

“I know.” You half-expected him to make a joke, to question who wouldn’t want him, but it never came. Instead, he lifted his head to meet your eyes. “You’re not subtle, sweetheart.”

Jake laughed, grin wide as you rolled your eyes, but offered no resistance as you used the hand on the back of his neck to recapture his mouth in a searing kiss. After a moment of allowing you to lead, he took charge and caged you against the wall. His hands fell lower, trailed down the expanse of your stomach to the plush of your thighs, as his tongue explored the warmth of your mouth.

Warm desire, syrupy and all-consuming, filled the pit of your stomach. Lust clouded your every thought and made it difficult for you to do much more than tug at the damp strands of hair as you felt the twitch of his cock against your hip. He made it difficult for you to do more than groan against his mouth, desperate for his touch, as the anxiety you’d felt dissipated with each swipe of his fingers.

With every swipe of his tongue, his fingers, his warm skin pressed to yours, you suddenly couldn’t remember a time where being this close to him made you feel anything other than wanted. Jake had a way of making you feel as if you were the only person in the world, the only one worthy of his time and attention, and you reveled in it as his hands smoothed over your thighs.

“Jake.”

The plea was muffled, breathed against his mouth, but Jake understood. His hum of acknowledgement was accompanied by a nip to your bottom lip. “I know, sweetheart.” His hand dipped between your thighs then, fingers ghosting along the sensitive inner skin as he met your eyes. “Gonna give you what you want.”

Soft hands ghosted along your thighs, pressing closer and closer to your aching center as Jake leaned in to nose at the hinge of your jaw. A plea for more was on the tip of your tongue, a request for him to just touch you, but before you could ask, his fingers swiped through your folds. His thumb caught on the sensitive bundle of nerves and sent a jolt down your spine.

At your sharp exhale, Jake’s mouth curved into a grin. There was little question that he was eager to hear just how good he made you feel and you had no qualms about giving him what he wanted. While you imagined he would tease, take his time to work you into a frenzy, the moment called for something more and you knew that. His touch wasn’t frenzied, there was no rush to get you off before seeking his own pleasure, but he didn’t hesitate to dive in headfirst.

There was a deliberateness to the swipe of his fingers through your folds, a sharp precision that had your vision whiting at the edges as he finally sank a finger into your heat, and you felt your body arch into his as he shifted even closer.  The grip of his fingers pressed to your thigh, holding you upright as those green eyes searched your face, would likely leave a bruise but you couldn’t wait to feel the evidence of his touch in the morning.

As he focused on your pleasure, the press of his cock against your hip grew more noticeable with every swipe of his fingers. The hard, heavy appendage twitched with each moan that escaped your mouth, with every gasp as his fingers brushed against a spot that had you seeing stars, and you couldn’t help but reach out for him.

Though the water and low light made it difficult to see much, you could clearly see the size of him as your fingers swiped at the sensitive head. The thought of feeling him, of taking all that he had to give, made you clench around his fingers as Jake groaned. 

“Don’t remember what our plans were for tomorrow,” he drawled, accent thicker than you’d ever heard it, “but if you think I’m lettin’ you leave my bed, you’re crazy.”

The press of his fingers grew more insistent with every swipe of your hand, with every brush of your thumb over the sensitive head of his cock, and with every gasp that left your lips. He mouthed at your damp skin, breath fanning over the column of your throat and leaving you with goosebumps, as his thumb circled your aching clit.

“Jake.” He hummed, nosing at the hinge of your jaw, as your fingers tugged at his hair. “Want to come with you,” you pleaded, eager to finally feel him after spending so long imagining this moment. “Please.”

Some small part of you expected a taunt, a tease that called him a gentleman who wanted to get you off first, but he seemed just as desperate as you. “Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he acquiesced, hand leaving your center after a final swipe to your bundle of nerves. Even as you whined at the loss, he shushed you. “Gimme a second.”

Jake shifted, tapped your leg to encourage you to wrap it around his waist, before dragging his cock through your folds. He smirked at the shaking of your limbs, body strung tight as you waited to finally feel him, and kept his eyes trained on your face as he took a brief moment to tease.

The head of his cock caught at your entrance, pulling a soft gasp from your mouth as your hand fell to his bicep. You tipped your head to return your mouth to his, desperate to kiss him once more, as he began to press forward.

Every inch of Jake filling you felt impossible, too much but not quite enough, and you allowed yourself a moment to revel in the feeling. Having him so close, being full of him, after spending so long imagining how he’d feel was overwhelming in the best way. And he eagerly swallowed your noises of pleasure, took them in stride as he gave you a moment to adjust to the feeling of him buried deep.

“Feel even better than I imagined.” His admission lingered on the edge of breathless, words nearly slurred as he waited for your permission to move. “Feel like heave, sweetheart.”

When you gave him the green light, he set a pace that had you seeing stars. And with every thrust of his hips, his composure began to slip, gradually losing himself in the warmth of your body - in the reality of the moment at hand. Words failed you both, too caught up in the feeling of one another to breathe more than a few words of pleasure. The only thing you could focus on was the searing warmth of his chest pressed to yours, the sting of his fingers digging into your thigh, the ache as he stretched you so completely.

Time seemed to still as everything but this, everything but Jake, ceased to exist. With every press of his hips, with every swipe of his fingers over your sensitive bundle of nerves, his pace began to falter. You were both tumbling closer to the edge, falling into the abyss, and your cries were reduced to little but his name.

Jake didn’t seem to mind, however, as every cry that left your lips spurred him on. “I’ve got you,” he promised, pressing impossibly closer. His hips moved faster, sending water sloshing around you both, as he pushed you higher and higher.

As you barreled over the edge, vision whiting at the edges and lips parting, Jake’s mouth met yours. He swallowed your cries of pleasure, noises he knew would actually wake the neighbors, and slowed his pace to make the ride easier to handle. Even still, he followed shortly after with a groan of his own.

The feeling of him filling you drew a gasp, the warmth of his spend searing you from within as you clenched around him. That saw Jake nipping at your bottom lip in warning, though a lazy grin betrayed him. “Watch it, sweetheart,” he teased, grinning when you laughed weakly. “We should get out, get cleaned up.”

“I’m not sure my legs work.” The joke made him roll his eyes, though you could see the way his chest puffed in pride as he waded the pair of you toward the stairs.

“My job’s not done, then. Told you,” he began, grinning as he took your hand in his, “you’re not leavin’ my bed tomorrow.”

Jake’s hand was warm, strong and careful as he helped you out of the pool. The promise was enough to make you laugh, eager for a future you were certain didn’t exist less than an hour ago. There was little you needed to say, not when you knew there was time to say it all later. So, you simply followed along and decided you were grateful for skinny dipping and whatever other changes the night would bring.

_______________________________________________________________

Author’s Note: I can’t believe it’s been so long since I posted a fic, I’m so sorry. Literally, I’ve been to a whole different country since I last posted (I think? I’m pretty sure I last posted like two weeks before I went to Germany). Anyway. Only perk of my life falling apart? I write to pretend it’s not. :) So! Enjoy this, you’ll see more friends to lovers and other stuff. Also, rusty smut, my bad. I’m gonna keep working on it!

Taglist: @lulu-noodles, @holachicos, @getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth, @withakindheartx, @ssprayberrythings, @verin93, @totalwitch2, @malindacath, @alexparkxr, @hangmandruigandmav, @alexxavicry, @calicokel, @jaymum, @dracosluvbot, @little-wiseone, @specialk6802, @mandylove1000, @julesclues, @archetypesoflife, @oliviah-25, @benhardysdrumstick, @caatheeriinee07, @yvespoems, @chloereidwayne, @flower-name​, @callsignharper​, @peoniarose​, @hangmanscoming​, @rh3tt​

#hangman smut #hangman imagine #hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin smut #top gun smut #top gun imagine #top gun x reader #top gun one shot #top gun maverick imagine #hangman fic #jake 'hangman' seresin x reader #hangman seresin x reader #v's fics

[bonafideyapper]

DAY OFF - maximus (fallout tv) x female!reader (smut)

Warnings: SMUT MDNI!!! 18+ // virgin maximus, you work for free because he’s just so sweet, no use of “y/n” but “your name” is typed out, subby (switch) Maximus, he’s embarrassed, I love it; reader is described as female, chubby, and southern/from the east coast, premature ejaculation (but the stamina is there fr he’s back up and ready in like 30 seconds flat); oral sex (m receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it ‘fo you tap it, reader), creampie, I probably forgot some but tbh I didn’t expect to get as raunchy as I did (not proofread)

(this is written to be a one-shot but if there’s enough interest in a second part i’ll work something up :)) 

Word count: 3k

Masterlist

Maximus was pretty pissed off and worn down by the time he came across a settlement along the way to tracking down the head, or the armor, he really didn’t know what his purpose in life was at the moment. He was just tired and needed some water, maybe a snack. He kept thinking back to that vault dweller he met in Filly, her pretty big eyes and that cute little smile. He’d never see her again, but hey, at least he could have the memory. 

He stumbled into the first crudely established business he could find that might serve him, taking a seat at the bar and trying to get the bartender’s attention. Clearly had not taken in the scenery of the bar he was in. Beautiful women stood around, each one with various male patrons. Unable to properly get the man’s attention; Maximus huffed and let his shoulders slump in near-defeat. After meeting the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, and then getting his ass kicked and losing the fucking armor, he had little energy left to give. 

You noticed this from your position at the end of the bar, slowly inching your way down as he took his place at the bar. The man had barely looked up when he burst through the door, clearly not noticing he had stumbled into the only brothel for miles around. Well respectable women making money to support themselves, helping weary travelers and the occasional rough raider to get some peace and release for the night. Today was your day off, but you always loved a little challenge. 

“Emmett! Would you be a dear and get me two waters?” You leaned over the bar and flashed the old man a big smile, he had always had a soft spot for you since you’d always slip him a big tip from whatever you made upstairs. Emmett filled up two glasses of water and slid them across to land in front of you, “On the house, beautiful.” 

You turned to get a good look at the man, fighting back a laugh as he stared at the glass of cold water in your hand, almost resembling a panting dog. “Here, honey; this is for you.” He muttered out a ‘thanks’ as he took the glass and took it down in three gulps, setting it back down on the counter between them. 

Maximus was smitten the moment he laid eyes on you, his literal saving grace. He finally took in his surroundings and cleared his throat, trying to put on that macho attitude of a knight, but really just an awkward little guy (with and) without that armor. “Thank you, um, I didn’t seem to catch your name?” He tried not to notice the obvious – that you were a whore, and he was a lying squire. He figured you two were one in the same, he was the lowest rung of the Brotherhood’s hierarchy, and you were, well, a prostitute. Max didn’t really care though; he had never seen someone as captivating as you, especially not in the wasteland. 

You told him your name, and Maximus swore he had never heard anything so beautiful before. He watched you take small sips from the glass in front of you as you spoke with him for the next few minutes, realizing he had yet to offer you his name. To lie or not to lie, that is the question.

“M-Maximus. That’s my name.” He told you, offering up a piece of knowledge about himself. Hey, he figured he’d never be back in this part of the wasteland, telling you his real name wouldn’t hurt nobody. “I uh, I don’t have any caps, so if you’re looking for a customer…” He trailed off, thinking you were only there for one thing. 

“Well, lucky for you, today’s my day off.” You flashed him an award-winning smile, one that would’ve been plastered on billboards in the old world. 

The two of you talked for awhile, neither of you too worried about the environment around you. You filled in most of the silence with some stories about your past. He found out you were close to his age, had come to the western wasteland from what used to be the Carolinas, and were working in the saloon until you could find someone to take you back to Appalachia. You both sat there until closing time, Emmett giving you signal with a jerk of his head towards the stairs leading up to your room with an eyebrow up as if asking, “Charity work on your day off?”

“Hey Maxie, you wanna go get some sleep? Only five caps for a nice place to rest.” You squeezed his arm gently, leaning towards him, “No business, just as friends.” Maximus had never had a nickname before, other than the verbal insults spat at him by his fellow brothers. After spending quite some time with you, he decided that he liked the nickname, and would not let the abuse of the Brotherhood affect his brief time with you. He found himself nodding without thinking over your offer, blindly following you once you moved your dainty little hand to grab onto his larger one. Once he was behind you, he took notice of the way your dress moved as you walked, swaying slightly with each step. He tried to remain honorable and not stare at your ass as you went up the stairs, believing you were telling the truth when you claimed that no ‘business’ would happen.

Boy had he been wrong.

Once you had him safely in the confines of your room, your lips were on him like flies to honey. He desperately kissed you, his hands coming up to hold your cheeks like you’d float away if he didn’t anchor your body to his. Or, maybe he felt like he’d float away if he didn’t hold onto you. 

“No, no no no no! This can’t be happening.” Maximus broke away from your lips suddenly, trying to push you from his lap at the feeling of his growing erection. 

“Hey hey, calm down.” You frowned and grabbed onto his hands, distracting him by putting them firmly on your thighs and looking up into his frantic eyes, “What’s wrong, honey?” 

“I think my cock is about to explode.” Maximus panicked and frowned when you just laughed in his face, not taking his worries about the brainwashed BoS sex ed seriously. Your hands floated up to rest on the side of his neck, your thumb ghosting over the scar running along his chin.

“Oh, bless your heart. Maxie, that’s what‘s supposed to happen. Do you trust me to make that feel good for you?” The way you cooed to him in a condescending way in that sweet southern accent made him whimper. His head nodded on instinct, going into this with blind trust for you since hey, you were a professional. With him finally voicing the consent on the matter, you flashed him a big smile and resumed making out with him. Your hands drifted down between your two bodies, palming him gently through the front of his pants and eliciting sweet whimpers from the virgin. 

His hands were clumsy as they explored your body, but you didn’t really mind. He finally discovered the places his hands felt like home, one landing on the soft, plump flesh of your hip as the other found its place on your lower back. He pulled your body closer, seeming to gain more courage as the night progressed. Something about a safe bed and a good-looking woman in his lap just did it for him, y’know? 

Max shifted you both down so he could lay his upper body back against your pillows, just trying to get comfortable and not think about the way his cock felt–you made it very hard (pun intended) to think about anything else. You broke your lips away from his and let out a melodic giggle as he chased your lips. You needed him out of that white t-shirt that oh-so-deliciously clung to his biceps, so naturally your hands reached to pull it over his head. 

You really were the best at what you did, and you knew it, Maximus could tell. You expertly removed his belt and pants without him even noticing, only detaching your lips from his because you had started to leave a trail moving down, down, down…

Fuck, he’s beautiful, you thought to yourself. Taking time to press open-mouthed kisses along any scars that may have been on his abdomen, you glanced up to see his eyes locked on you. Half-lidded brown eyes stared down at you, his breath catching in his throat as you finally reached your destination. You carefully opened his pants and tapped his hip gently, asking him to lift up to make this a little easier for you. As he obeyed, you pulled his pants down in one swift motion, smirking when you saw his cock. Perfectly shaped, thick and girthy, just how you liked it, and rock-hard as it sprung up out of the confines of his briefs. 

“Still trust me?” You whispered to him before you put your hands on him again, basically salivating over the thought. Maximus didn’t even need to hear the rest of your question, nodding frantically after you uttered the first syllable. Taking his cock in your hand, you easily began working him, keeping your eyes on him. You loved the look on a virgin’s face when you touched them for the first time, and Max was no different. His eyes had closed, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. Absolutely fucking beautiful, in your professional opinion.

His hands found their way to your hair as you licked a drop of precum from the tip of his cock, humming softly in delight at the salty substance before immediately getting to work. You wrapped your lips around him and gathered enough saliva to really make it enjoyable for him, not even having time to really get sloppy with it when the pretty boy had busted in your mouth with a profuse apology. Greedy, you pulled your mouth off of him and swallowed down the load. You thought it was cute how apologetic he was at how quick it had happened, so you wiped your mouth and leaned up to kiss him again. “Don’t apologize, I’m not done.” 

Max didn’t know what else to expect, already astonished that it had gone on this long and his cock was still attached to his body. With his cock standing staunch and almost painfully erect again, Maximus let out a pitiful whine when you lifted your dress over your head. You guided his hands to your hips again, starting to work a rhythm against him with your hips. 

“You okay if I ride you, honey?” You asked him, peppering kisses across his jaw and down his neck. Maximus nodded quickly and dug his fingertips into your pudgy hips, moving you in his lap the way that he wanted. He thinks he’s starting to get the hang of this sex thing, until you lift yourself up and he feels the warmest, softest grip he’s ever felt before. He thought your mouth was the best thing he had ever felt, until he felt the way your pussy gripped his cock alll the way down until he was buried inside you. 

“Shit, Maxie, you might be the biggest I’ve ever taken.” You mewled, leaning over his body in a way that perfectly positioned your breasts above his face. You put your weight on your hands on either side of his head, propping yourself up to start moving your hips. Grinding into him for a moment to really feel how deep he was before lifting yourself up and dropping yourself back down to test the waters with your new toy. 

Meanwhile Maximus couldn’t focus, at this moment he had completely abandoned his faith in the Brotherhood, creating a new religion in your body. Maybe he was just delusional over getting laid but he would worship the ground you walked on after this. His mouth found one of your nipples and latched onto it almost instinctively (don’t mommy kink shame me), rolling his tongue over the sensitive bud before pulling back to give the other some well deserved attention. 

You finally fell into a good rhythm, leaning back on him and grabbing onto his legs behind you for support as Maximus figured out that if he thrust his hips up just right, you’d let out a new sound. At some point you realized he had taken over, his hands digging roughly into your hips and thighs as he fucked up into you. 

Maximus grinned when he realized that not only did this feel great, it looked like you were actually enjoying it too. He was a quick learner, figuring out which ways to move his hips that would elicit the sweeeetest noises from your throat. He decided to get cocky with it and put those squire muscles to good use, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you in place against his body as he pistons his hips quicker. Admittedly becoming more sloppy, but he soon realized that it was because you had come completely undone in his arms. 

Your eyes had rolled back as soon as he help you in place, nothing but the sound of his balls slapping against your ass and your moans that were getting higher and higher in pitch. “Max- fuck- Maximus—“ you tried to warn him that you were going to cum, burying your face in his shoulder and white-knuckling the blanket as you exploded instead, a gush of what Maximus thought was piss (he would later learn that no, you didn’t just urinate on him) coating the two of their abdomens. Never deterred him though, because soon after Max had let the explosion feeling take himself over, pumping his heavy load into you. You swore you could feel it literally hit your cervix and hoped you weren’t ovulating.

Maximus kept his arms tightly around you as you laid on top of him for a moment, moving only slightly in a way that would allow his cock to slip from your velvety walls. Leaving you with the ejaculate mix dripping down your thighs. His fingers traced up your spine gently before his dropped his arm to the side, letting you get up if you so pleased. 

You did, but only after hovering your face over his to brush your lips against his in an almost-tender kiss. Your legs were shakier than you’d like to admit as you crawled off of him, cleaning yourself up a bit before wrapping yourself in your nice robe. Maximus sat up a bit on his elbows to watch you float around the room, smiling up at you when you came back to him with a wet rag to clean him off. 

“Get some sleep, Maxie.” You pressed your lips to the skin just above his bellybutton, then one against his sternum, finally one more pressed to his lips that lingered as long as he allowed it to. To you, aftercare was important to both parties, and since you were the more experienced, you’d have to teach him a thing or two about that. “You’re safe here with me, I promise.” 

Maximus watched you slowly make your way up his body, wrapping his arm back around you to pull you closer to deepen your kisses. Both of you had just exploded and yet he could still probably go again, but the exhaustion of his journey had finally hit him, and he knew he had a lot of ground to cover in the morning. He nestled his head against your bosom and closed his eyes, not used to any sort of cuddling but definitely just wanting to feel your softness as long as he could before everything got hard again. 

You had a fond smile on your face as you looked down at the man in your bed, it wasn’t often that you took a serious liking to any of the men that strolled through the saloon doors, but something about the “I can fix him”-ness of the false knight under your covers was intriguing. You wrapped your arm around him and gently traced your finger over some raised skin between his shoulders, too tired to make out what the shape was. 

You had woken up before him the next morning and had already gotten dressed and ready before deciding to wake him, a plate of biscuits and a cup of badly-made coffee on her side table. Maybe, you hoped, if you made his time really worth it he’d come back to see you again. Maybe as a customer, but you wouldn’t charge him any caps for your services. He’d be your exception, something about a friends discount. 

Maximus opened his eyes slowly when he felt a small hand massaging his back, turning his head to look towards your figure sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“Mornin’, honey. You gotta get goin’, I got business to attend to.” You watched as he rolled onto his back and looked up at you fully. Max cracked a smile as he reached over to grab your face, pulling you down but leaning up to meet you halfway and capture your lips in a kiss. 

“I’m going to come back for you, I promise.” He whispered against your lips, thinking back to your conversation the night before about working there until you found a companion to guide you across the vast wasteland. He’d find the knight’s armor and return to prove himself worthy of being a knight by rescuing the fair maiden. 

“I’ll hold you to that, Maxie.” You pulled away from him and gestured to the clothes on the edge of the bed, “Get dressed, there’s a fire escape out my window. My boss will be so mad if she sees you leavin’ this late in the morning.” Maximus redressed himself pretty quick and peeled his head out the window to see the makeshift ladder hanging down the side of the building. He turned back to try and steal one more kiss, but you had already fled the room. 

a/n: ok so I wrote this at work & when I got off work I was exhausted but I neeeeeded to finish it so this went way off the rails, wasn’t expecting myself to do all that, but hope you enjoyed!

taglist: @judgementdays-girl (you requested a max fic after i had already started so here's this :))

gif by @mancandykings

dividers by @cafekitsune

#maximus fallout x reader #maximus fallout x you #maximus fallout imagine #fallout tv imagine #squire maximus #ren writes #fallout tv series #maximus x reader #maximus x you #maximus fallout x oc #maximus fallout

[topguncortez]

Ice Cold, No Mistakes - T. Kazansky

pairing: Tom "Iceman" Kazansky x Female!Reader warnings: death, grief, sadness, angst, TOPGUN shit word count: 1.6k Iceman Masterlist | Main Masterlist

 “Ice, why are you so cold?” 

It was the age old question that everyone dared to ask. What made Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky so cold? People over the years had speculated what caused him to be so closed off and fly with the precision that he did. 

Some suggested it was daddy issues. His old man must’ve been a hardass and instilled that Ice could only be the best. That his dad was mentally abusive, calling Ice names when he was anything less than perfect or had too much feeling. Some even suggested that Ice’s dad was living vicariously through him, which made him work even harder because letting him down would be the last thing that Ice would want. 

The other rumor was that it was his mom. That his mom was some sort of leech, maybe a drunk or a druggie that constantly needed money. That he grew up poor because his mother was spending every dime on vodka and coke. So Ice worked hard to get himself through the academy, and into flight school and then ultimately into TopGun. And with all the money that Ice was making, he sent some of it back home to pay his mother’s bills and keep a roof over her head, and to help her survive on her addiction problems. 

But both the family rumors turned out to be just that. . . rumors. Goose had met Iceman’s parents at their graduation, and it promptly shut down those bad/toxic parenting stories. Ice’s parents were nothing like him, they were warm, caring individuals from a small town on the east coast. His mother was a school teacher and his father a banker. Some of the questions on Ice’s cold personality were answered, but not all of them. 

So what made Tom Kazansky so cold? 

Well, that could be answered with a simple explanation: it was her. 

No one had asked questions about the picture of the girl in his locker. It wasn’t uncommon for the pilots to stick pictures of their families inside their lockers. It was a reminder of their loved ones and who they had waiting on them at home. No asked. . . until one day Maverick did. 

“So, who’s the girl, Kazansky?” Maverick asked, shucking off of his flight suit. Slider froze next to his pilot, waiting for Ice to come off his rocker. The last time someone asked about the photo, Ice had ripped them a new one, and everyone in their last squadron knew not to ask about the girl in the picture. 

Iceman’s blue eyes looked over at the polaroid that was taped to the door. Her bright smile always made him feel warm, and the little girl next to her eyes were bright and filled with love. Iceman clenched his jaw and shut his locker slowly. 

“No one.” Ice mumbled and walked out of the locker room. 

“Ice, I’m-” 

“Do yourself a favor, Mitchell,” Slider said, “Don’t ask about the girl in the picture.” 

Maverick nodded and watched as Slider went after his pilot. Maverick knew that his curiosity should end right then and there. That he shouldn’t pry into the life of his competition, but he couldn’t just let it be. If this was a chance to get a one up on Iceman, then he was going to take it. He knew that there was one person, besides Slider, that new Iceman well enough to possibly know about the girl in the picture. 

“No, I’m not telling you,” Goose said, ignoring his pilot. 

“You need to, it’s life or death.” 

Goose gave Maverick a look. 

“Okay, not life or death but still.” 

Goose sighed and leaned back in his chair, “No one talks about the girl in the picture. It’s just. . . it’s just never talked about. All you need to know is that he takes that picture everywhere. He had it back at the academy, he had it in flight school, hell I think if his house caught on fire the one thing he’d rush into save, is that picture.” 

Maverick nodded, the gears turning in his head. He looked up at his RIO and gave him a smirk, “Thank you, Goose.” 

“Hey, I don’t like that look, Mav!” Goose pointed, sitting up straight, “What are you going to do?”

“Nothing,” Maverick said, but Goose knew better than to trust him. 

And Goose should’ve stopped him, but he didn’t think that his pilot would go as far as breaking into Ice’s locker and taking the picture until the next day when Ice stormed into the classroom, anger and fury in his eyes. 

“Where the fuck is Mitchell?” Ice yelled and Maverick slowly turned around, a smirk on his face which was quickly wiped off by Ice’s fist to his jaw. 

“What the fuck!” 

“Where’s my fucking picture!?” Ice yelled, grabbing Maverick by the collar and slamming him up against the wall. Other pilots quickly scrambled to try and break up the fight waiting to happen. 

“Kazansky!” Jester yelled. 

“I know you fucking have it,” Ice seethed, “Give it back.” 

“Why Kazansky? What’s got you so fucking tense about a goddamn picture?” Maverick jeered, hoping to get a rise out of him. They both knew that if a fight broke out, they would be kicked out of the program. 

“Kazansky,” Jester said again, taking a step closer. Ice’s jaw was clenched so tightly, it was a miracle he wasn’t breaking teeth. 

Ice looked down for a moment, weighing his options, before letting go of Maverick’s tan button up, and walking away. Slider glared at Maverick, before chasing after his pilot. And the look in Goose’s eyes was one Maverick had never seen before, the look of pure disappointment. 

“I’m not sure what happened,” Jester said, “But return Kazansky’s belongings as soon as possible or you’ll both be tossed out.” 

It was the last thing he wanted to do, but Maverick didn’t want to run the risk and get kicked out of the program he dreamed of going to. So later that night, he swallowed his pride and walked towards Iceman’s room, the picture in his hand. Maverick sighed as he knocked on the door. He jumped back a bit when it was ripped open, a half naked Tom Kazansky standing in front of him in just his boxers. Ice’s hair was a mess, his blue eyes red and so was his nose. This wasn’t like him at all. 

“I brought-” Maverick held up the picture, and Iceman quickly ripped it out of his hands. 

“Don’t ever touch my stuff again,” Iceman seethed, “Or the next time, I won’t stop because Jester says so.” 

Maverick nodded and Ice turned to shut the door, but he held his hand out stopping him. Ice sighed and faced him. 

“What, Mitchell,” Ice demanded. 

“Why is that picture so important to you that you’d throw everything away?” Maverick asked. 

Ice let out a sigh as he looked down at the picture in his hand. Neither one of them would want him acting like this, so eager to throw in the towel just to be with them. 

“Y/N, She was my wingman,” Ice said, his voice filled with sadness, “She was my wingman before I was even a pilot. She was going to fly with me, be my backseater. She was determined to be the first woman in the program, and I think she would’ve done it.” 

“And the little girl?” 

Ice looked up at Maverick, tears rolling down his cheeks, “My daughter.” He looked back down at the picture and sniffed, “We had her in high school. Everyone said it was a mistake, but she wasn’t. . . she was the best thing that ever happened to me.” 

“What happened?” Maverick’s voice was barely above a whisper. 

“Graduation weekend,” Ice answered, “We had been at a small party my family was hosting. It just happened to be Lydia’s second birthday. God, she was so excited to be two,” Ice smiled at the brief memory of how happy he had been that whole weekend. Not only had Y/N and Ice both graduated high school and were taking steps to start the next chapter in their lives, and Ice got to celebrate yet another year of being a father. Sure he was young, but to him that didn’t mean anything. Lydia was perfect, she had been the best baby ever, but she was becoming the best toddler ever, hitting every single milestone and then some. She was so smart, something that she had gotten from her mother, and sassy, something she had gotten from her father. 

“It happened so quick,” Ice’s voice cracked, “One minute, we were on top of the world, singing along to that damn Queen song and then. . . the car came out of nowhere.” 

Maverick watched as the cold, tough exterior of his enemy came crashing down. The picture fluttered out of Ice’s hand as he covered his face and cried. Sobs racked his body, and Maverick bent down to pick up the picture, gingerly handing it back to Ice. 

“He took them both,” Ice whispered, and wiped his face on his arm, “Y/N was killed instantly, he hit on her side. Lydia. . . she fought hard for three days, but her little body couldn’t handle the injuries. I buried them both on the same day.” 

“Ice, I am so-” 

“I fly the way I do because I can’t afford to make mistakes,” Ice said, and turned to face Maverick, “Because that’s what he did. He made the mistake of getting in his car that night and it cost me everything. I refuse to be the reason why someone has to bury the people that they love. I refuse to make mistakes because it kills people.” 

Maverick nodded, now understanding a whole new side of Tom “Iceman” Kazansky. 

“Again, I’m sorry for your loss, Tom,” Maverick said, and took a step back.

“Thank you, Pete,” Ice responded, and closed the door. He leaned his back against the door and slowly slid down to the ground, clutching the picture to his chest.

note: I'm back bitches

#top gun #top gun fan fic #top gun fan fiction #top gun imagine #tom kazansky #tom kazansky fan fic #tom kazansky fan fiction #tom kazansky imagine #tom kazansky x reader #tom kazansky x you #tom kazansky x y/n #tom iceman kazansky #iceman kazansky #iceman #iceman fan fic #iceman fan fiction #iceman imagine #iceman x reader #iceman x you #iceman x y/n #whumpuary #whumpuaryno1

[impala-dreamer]

Tourniquet - Chapter Three

A Supernatural Dean x Reader Series Told Backwards

~Y/N has been by Dean’s side through his worst days, always there if he needs her, forever just a call away. Love is impossible to fight and more impossible to live with. Just a side character in his epic life, Y/N would give anything just to give Dean a moment’s peace.~

Please see MASTERLIST for full info/warnings/chapter links.

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

Regarding Us

“It was kind of nice, in a horrible, slowly dying kinda way.” 

Dean bent his left arm and chucked it behind his head. The pillow adapted to the new position and sank perfectly around his hand. He was staring off again, eyes dancing around the cracked motel room ceiling, but Y/N knew he wasn’t counting faults in the plaster. He was watching memories replay in his head, trying to clarify all the hazy details so he could relay them to her. 

He took his time and she let him. She lay on the other pillow; her nakedness covered by the thin, scratchy white sheet. They’d been lying in bed for hours, days maybe; she couldn’t see the clock or care to look. An occasional knock at the door brought them food, and judging by the amount of empty beer bottles and burger wrappers, they were almost through the weekend. Y/N didn’t worry about the time because she didn’t want it to end. Once she looked at the clock, she’d know the time and exactly how much they had left. 

“Nice? It sounds terrifying.” 

Dean turned his eyes from the ceiling to her and Y/N felt that familiar heat rush through her. No matter what filthy act they’d just performed, nothing made her heart more full, her body more ready than the way he looked at her. Thick lashes over perfect green; crinkles around the eyes and freckles that appeared darker the closer you were. 

He shrugged a bit. “I mean, it was. Sort of. It’s hard to explain because I don’t really remember. But it was nice at first to forget some… aspects of our life.”

Y/N sighed and rolled to him, propping herself up on an elbow. “I can see that. Must have been nice not to know there are things out there waiting to kill you, or that if you went on vacation, the world might end.” 

She was serious, but he laughed gently. 

“Yeah. That.” 

“Well, as much as it sucks… I’m glad you remembered. And, ya know, didn’t die.” 

Dean licked his forever chapped lips and rolled toward her, mirroring her pose. He looked her over, drew a finger across her collarbone and down her right shoulder. He traced invisible letters on her skin and she shivered at his touch. 

“Cold?” 

She bit her lip and shook her head. “Nope.” 

“Good.” 

Leaving her arm, Dean gripped the sheet and whipped it away. It hung in the air for a moment like a parachute and then danced to the carpet. 

“Good?” she laughed, gasping when the air conditioner hit her bare flesh. 

Dean hummed affirmatively and placed his hand on her hip as he leaned in. 

His kiss was hot as ever, as if his lips were warmed just for her. His tongue was thick and wet, always hungry, always hunting inside of her. 

He pushed, she rolled. He scraped, she clawed. He moaned, she lost her mind. 

There was something so perfect when they were together that Y/N almost couldn’t stand it. It was as if she was getting everything her soul ever wanted, needed, but she knew it wouldn’t last. It never would. It never could. He’d get his fill, ease his hurt a little bit and then be gone. Monday morning she would check out alone, drive back to the east coast and see what horrors awaited her there. 

“I don’t want you to leave,” she said suddenly. 

Her voice broke through the panting heat and Dean froze, hovering above her. His big arms flexed; his concentration broke. He blinked down at her and his jaw dropped. 

“Y/N/N, I-” 

She closed her eyes, embarrassment and hurt stabbing behind her eyes. “It’s OK,” she choked out. “I know. I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t know,” he sighed. He dropped his chin to his chest and pulled in a slow breath. 

Y/N’s stomach churned. She touched her hand to his cheek and he looked up again. 

She swallowed down a shaky sob. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-” 

He turned his head, pressed his lips to her palm. “You know I can’t stay. You know I… The fucking world could end. Again! Please don’t ask me to stay with you. You can’t do that.” 

Rejection burned in her gut and Y/N pushed at his chest, moving him away. He pulled out and rolled onto his side of the mattress. 

“Y/N/N, come on-” 

She was up and gone before he could settle against the pillow, rifling through a pile of clothes at the foot of the bed. 

“Y/N, don’t…” 

She tossed the sheet back onto the bed and it floated down into a messy heap at his feet. 

“You can’t just-” 

She pulled her jeans on and stood, staring at him. “I can’t what?” 

Dean’s shoulders curled inward, and he held open his hands, unsure of what to say. 

“You can’t go.” 

She laughed bitterly and clasped her bra. “But you can, right?” 

A big hand scraped down a darkly stubbled cheek. “That’s not what I mean and you know it.” 

She rolled her eyes and grabbed a mess of gray plaid from the floor. “Oh, I know exactly what you mean.” 

The door slammed. The chain clinked. Sunlight came and went. 

She didn’t go anywhere. There was nowhere to go. 

The pool was closed, but she hopped the fence and took up residence on one of the loungers. The April evening was chilly and she regretted leaving her jacket. She also regretted accidentally picking up Dean’s flannel when she stormed out because his smell was everywhere. She wrapped her arms around herself and sat there, legs and patience stretched out. 

She had no right to ask him to stay, but she couldn’t keep doing this. 

Over the last two years, they’d been upping their time together exponentially. A set phone call once a week, a plan to meet somewhere, always a text. Every morning, a text. Beyond the blood and broken bones and unrequited love, it had been nearly perfect. They made sure their maps crossed more than not, and always answered the phone. 

Maybe she’d taken it the wrong way, read too much into things.

She couldn’t help it. She was made for him, she knew she was. Sure, there was never a prophecy about her; her name wasn’t chiseled onto an ancient tablet lost somewhere to time. No angel had ever come down from Heaven to tell her she was important, needed, but she knew. She knew in the way he always reached for her, always leaned into her touch, kissed her with such desperation and need. 

“I didn’t mean to piss you off.” 

She didn’t flinch when he appeared in the corner of her vision, didn’t even look up. She kept her gaze on the sunset reflecting off of the overly chlorinated water.

“Come on, Y/N/N. I’m sorry.” 

Y/N sighed and cleared her throat. “It’s fine.”

Dean shook his head and sat down beside her. He set his arms on his knees, leaning close. “It’s not fine. I don’t know why I get so…”

“Angry?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“I didn’t ask you to fucking quit your life and run away with me, Dean. I asked you-”

“To stay,” he finished for her, a little harsher than she would have. “You asked me to stay with you.”

“For the week,” she defended. 

His eyes narrowed. “That’s not what you asked and you know it.” 

Her arms unfolded, her tongue clicked. She turned to face him, eyes blazing with pain and years of pent up questions. 

“So?” 

Dean startled. “So?” 

“Yeah. So what?” She set her feet down between his and claimed her ground. “You think it’s against the rules or something for me to ask that? News flash, Dean. There are no rules between us. Never have been.” 

He stumbled. “It’s not about rules.” 

“Then what’s it about? Because for some reason the thought of being with me is so offensive to you that you felt the need to yell at me while you were still inside of me.” 

The sky darkened with his face. Tiny dimples popped above his pursed lips, his eyes dropped. 

“I’m not… offended by you. I just can’t do what you’re asking. It’s impossible.” 

“Wow.” She leaned back, not wanting to be so close to the man that was once again breaking her heart. “Being with me is impossible. Cool. So cool, Dean. Thanks for clearing that up.” 

Frustrated, he rubbed at the back of his neck and exhaled heavily through his nose. “You know that it’s impossible. You know that I can’t just quit and run off into the sunset with you. There are things I need to do. Things that only I can do.”

She scoffed. “Here we go again…”

“You think I like this?” 

“Doesn’t sound like you hate it.” 

He sat back and laughed under his breath, shocked and annoyed. “I hate every fucking second of this. I have never been able to live the life that I want. Since I was four years old, I’ve been pushed and pulled by shit that I can’t even understand half the time. I’ve been beaten and scarred. Hell, I’ve died more times that I can fucking count. You think I like this life? You think I enjoy spending every single minute with my brother just to keep him alive? You think I enjoy waking up every fucking morning wondering what’s gonna try to kill us that day? Or if I take the wrong turn off the highway, the fucking world will end? I’ve got Lucifer’s unborn kid in the wind. Asshole English dudes running around in my business. My mother is alive again. I was locked up for three months. Should I go on?” 

Y/N bit her tongue and shook her head. “No.” 

“No,” he echoed. “Of course not. No one wants to listen to my shit.” 

Anger rose higher and she clenched her jaw, keeping a scream inside. “Fuck you for saying that. I have listened to every goddamn word for the last thirty years, Dean. I have been there every step of the way, part of your life as much as you wanted me to be. Don’t you dare tell me I don’t know what you’ve been through because I have been the one to continually patch you up.” 

He buckled. “I know.” 

“So why don’t I ever get some of that Dean Winchester magic? When do I get some consideration? When do we get to have the life we deserve? When do we get to push it all away and leave the danger and pain behind and just be happy? Every turn of the fucking Earth depends on you but…When is it our turn!”

She was shaking and he grabbed her hands, pulled them across the empty space. She tumbled into his arms and they held each other as the sun disappeared behind the mountain. 

“I wish I knew what to do,” she whispered. “I wish I knew how to make everything better.” 

He kissed her forehead. “Me too.”

The wind began to blow and their bodies chilled under the moon. It was time to go, but neither wanted to move. There were so many things they never said, so many words left to hang in the air, unplucked, unspoken. 

“I’m freezing,” she said finally. She stood and took his hand, tugging him to his feet. “Let’s go in.” 

He sighed. “Yeah. OK.” 

“And maybe you can tell me all about how you killed Hitler.” 

His face brightened. “Oh my god, did I not tell you about that? Fuck. I killed Hitler!” 

His laugh was beautiful and Y/N smiled. He would be OK. 

So would she. 

Tourniquet Tags:

@prettyinplaid94 @winharry @muhahaha303   @cookiechipdough @ladysparkles78

2024 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

@babysimpala @beardburnsupersoldiers @chenshemesh1 @cosicas-cuquis @deans-baby-momma @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @impalaspixie @jackles010378 @kazsrm67 @k-slla @leigh70 @lyarr24 @nancymcl @peachy-vans @pizzagirlxnsfwx @rachiem4-blog @sexyvixen7 @the-wounded-healer05  

Written for @jacklesversebingo "a story told backwards"

#supernatural fanfic #dean winchester fanfic #dean x reader #angst #series #tourniquet

[meowmeowmeowmeow4x]

Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Chapter 21

MASTAPOST credit to @adonneniel, @brekitten and @bucketorandomness for all their help brianstorming. The scene with bruce has been a long time coming!

Walter Wekapipo puffed his second cigar of the day. Puff. Puff. Smoke filled his lungs, taking the edge off. Just another cold, damp day on a cold whaling boat in the middle of nowhere.

The captain shouted his orders. Walter got to it. He trawled to the back and grabbed some rope. He heaved. He hauled. The whale they got was a small one. Probably a baby. Should leave it alone. Let it grow big, but captain’s orders.

See, Walter saw himself as a morally complex man. You, dear readers, may consider him with disdain, He is a whaler! You may say. They are endangered species, you continue. And these are very valid points, for which this narrative will not only not judge you but appraise you for.

And Walter considered these points too. Sure they were pretty creatures, but they could always make more. People have been huntin’ whales for centuries. Millennia even. How could you blame him for needing to make a livin’?

No, who you should blame, Walter thought, was the rich pricks out on the East Coast. The assholes who run around in Armani and Gucci and drive fancy cars and do big speeches about the environment and then sneak off to Japan to try whale meat and raw horse. Bleugh.

What he could do with that kinda money…

But he didn’t have that kind of money, and you know? Mama always told him he needed to be happy first with what he got. So Walter picked up his harpoon gun, and dragged his feet to the side of the boat. A whale surfaced. There she was. Huge, meaty, tonnes of oil. Crying out like a bitch too. He remembered his mama crying out like a bitch every single day, till they institutionalised her. Poor mama.

Maybe in a better life, he wouldn’t be out here killing whales illegally. Walter didn’t really have the heart to fire the thing. Not really. But captain’s orders. And it was this or the streets.

Walter flicked his cigarette into the water. Time to get over with it. The captain yelled at him again. He knew he wasn’t getting’ fired. Boat was barely staffed as it was. Walter picked up his harpoon and took aim. So sorry, whaley-girl.

Something wet smacked into his cheek. Then it slid down his face, and dropped onto the floor. What in the world-?

Water slowly lowered his head. His half-smoked cigarette lay there innocently, chock fulla water.

Then came the most hideous, horrifyin’ screechin’ Walter had ever heard in his life.

May God have mercy on his tainted, tainted soul.

Damian opened his gills pre-emptively. He jumped out of the water at full speed, roaring the moment he surfaced. The first man, the repugnant one with the harpoon gun. He was to go down first. The poacher was too stunned to even move. Damian sank his teeth deep into the man’s hand, going deeper than his human bites had ever gone.

The man screeched like a distressed school girl. Damian did not relent. His opponent attempted to fling Damian off, but the small siren held firm. The man stumbled back, howling and trying his best to rid himself of the monstrous child.

The two men beside him shouted. They reached for their harpoons. Twin blue beams blasted them back. The ice bound them to the back wall, leaving only enough room to breathe and wiggle their fingers.

Damian moved to finish his opponent. Tired of the incessant screeching, Damian unhooked his teeth from the man’s arm. Raising his head to eye level, Damian matched the poacher’s terrified look with a hiss of his own. One firm head butt later, and he was down for the count.

And Damian was hardly done.

He may be without his grappling hook. He may be without his legs. But he was still Robin, and a Robin who could not adapt was no Robin at all.

Shouting erupted along the boat. Footsteps scrambled and ran in every which direction. Men rushed to where he was lying ‘prone’ on the deck. Let them come!

“You handle the right. I will decimate the left.” Damian shouted. Danny nodded, charging up another beam.

Damian held his sword in one hand, and activated the wrist ray on the other. The men hesitated.

“Come on mates. It’s just a baby! We could get rich selling it!” With that, the trio of sailors yelled and rallied, each of them carrying harpoons. Child’s play.

Damian coiled his tail, and jumped as a wound-up spring would. A harpoon fired. Damian fired back. The wrist ray’s beam hit true, and the harpoon flew off course. The siren boy continued his course, and latched onto the first man.

His movement came as fluid as gentle river. In one motion with one hand, a slash at the stomach. In another with the other hand, he launched himself at the next poacher. His second total victim fell to the floor like a sack of bricks, writhing and crying out. The second of the trio faltered. A fatal mistake. Damian went for the head. His tail wrapped around the disgusting human’s neck and squeezed. The third man lunged for him. Damian burned his feet with the wrist ray. Then he sent him flying back with a shot to the shoulder.

There were more men. Damian did not relent. He would not relent until nobody was standing, until they could no longer continue their dirty deeds.

His platform was beginning to lose consciousness. Damian slammed him behind the head with the hilt of his sword. As the man fell, Damian launched himself to the next person foolish enough to approach. Then the next, and then the next. Damian dodged and deflected harpoons. He leapt from person to person in a bloody game of leap frog, and when he ran out of people to jump to, he instead went for the crane in the centre of the boat. Damian clambered up the crane using nothing but his upper body strength, aided by his lighter weight.

The remainder of the men were cowering under shelter. It was foolish to think they could escape from him for long. A death rattled emerged, a warning for anyone who dared approach. A foolish man peeked from a window. The wrist ray burned off a patch of hair for his troubles.

Damian had no patience for these games. It seemed Danny had the same idea. The flashes of blue light     ceased alongside the screaming. Oh how therapeutic the screaming was.

Before long, chaos emerged from even the cabin rooms. Looks like Danny had breached them. His opportunity granted, Damian dropped.

He landed on a hapless sailor. A slam to the back of the head had him slumping against the doorway. Damian leapt into the fray.

As soon as it had started, the bloodbath ended. Damian and Danny sat there in the bridge, surrounded by fallen poachers, still breathing, a small mercy. The boys panted heavily, their bodies not quite used to exertion over water. However, the deed was done.

“Has anyone told you you’re totally insane?” Danny asked.

Damian nodded breathlessly. “Many times.”

“High-five?”

Damian’s shoulders slumped. “Very well.”

They still had work to do. Danny tipped over a bucket of sea water on them both. “To keep our scales wet.” He said. Together, the sirens worked on freeing Dorothea. Damian cut the ropes, while Danny used his ice to smooth over the deck.

Damian laid his hand on her nose. He trilled his goodbyes. “Farewell, Dorothea. May you travel safely.”

With the ice acting like a smooth ramp, just a couple pushes were enough to slide Dorothea back into the water, safe and sound. Her mother sang to them in thanks. The whale pod departed soon after, leaving the two siren boys to the rest of the dirty work.

Damian emerged from the brig with rope. A lot of it. Danny worked on icing over the wounds inflicted by Damian’s rampage, many of which Damian would attest were well-earned. However, Damian did not intend to become a murderer again. Despite everything, he still wished to live up to his father’s ideals.

With the crew and captain rounded and tied up, that left another question.

“How are we gonna get these guys to the authorities?”

“We could always just sink the ship and allow them to perish.”

Danny crossed his arms, his face going flat. “No thanks.”

“It is simple. We emulate Basil the Second of the Eastern Roman Empire, who blinded 99 captured soldiers out of a hundred, and gouged out only one eye from the remaining one. Then he had the enemy soldiers return, led by the one-eyed men.”

Danny’s own eyes widened to dinner plates. His nictitating membranes flashed back and forth rapidly.

“I mean to say we allow one man to captain the ship home, while still heavily restrained.”

Danny’s body slumped in relief. “Oh thank god. I thought you were gonna actually try and do that.”

Damian bared his teeth at the crooks, who cowered as far as they could, tied up in rope and ice. “I would like to, but I am bound by higher principles these days.”

“Not concerning at all, but ok.”

Danny wisely chose to not press the issue. He chose someone relatively skinny, freed him out of the bunch. The scrawny man did not even try to flee. Damian’s sword made sure of that.

Just because they were allowing them to live did not mean they had to be nice. Land was less than a day away, so they could afford to be a little harsh. Damian tried the man wrists to the steering wheel, and Danny welded his feet to the floor. “Just so you don’t get any ideas, buddy.”

Danny patted the man on the shoulder, a gesture that was normally meant to encourage and provide support. The scrawny sailor trembled.

“Oh, Dami!” Danny perked up.

Damian’s fins rattled at the childish nickname.

“Now that we’re on a boat, we can call home.

That was… that was good news! Yes! He had completely forgot about that, lost in his righteous rage. That was the whole reason they’d ravaged the previous Atlantean town. Only the map had showed the nearest island to be thousands of miles away, and the coastline would have been too risky. Yes, this was good news indeed.

Damian put his sword to Scrawny’s throat.

Danny cleared his voice. “You might wanna give us your phone password, or my friend here is gonna make a sushi restaurant out of you.”

The man rattled off a series of numbers. Danny fished out his mobile phone, an old battered model, but functional.

“Here you go, Damian.”

Damian’s heart lightened. At last he could contact his father. Perhaps set up an extraction of some kind at the other end of Panama, or even earlier. This would be an enormous step towards bringing this adventure to an end, and returning back to Gotham where he was needed (and deep inside his heart, where he needed to be as well).

Damian slid the phone’s screen to unlock it, only for it to not work. Damian swiped the screen again.

“Why is this not working?” He rapidly rubbed the screen with his thumb, but the device did not respond.

“Oh yeah. These things are designed for human skin, which, uh, you know.” Danny showed his open palm, showing fingers coated in scores of tiny scales.

Damian looked to the side. He crawled up to one of the piles of tied-up poachers and came up to one fortunate enough to have been rendered unconscious. Damian yanked his arm forward, not caring for the deafening crack sound that motion created, and used the poacher’s human fingers to input the call for him.

An inelegant solution for an inelegant problem.

But that was no matter. Damian checked and double checked the numbers, making sure it was his father’s and nobody else’s. He took a deep breath, and pressed call.

Bruce Wayne sat on the back deck of the SAV, alone for the moment. The Fentons were just below, manning the controls. Apparently there was some kink in the system that was causing them to lose speed. Unsurprising, considering they had invented this whole new system in less than 48 hours. Or at least that was if Jasmine was to be believed.

The back deck sported an umbrella over a desk and a couple chairs for relaxation. On his tablet, Bruce carefully read the Fenton’s previous papers on sirens, a length catalogue dating back to over twenty years, when they were both in college.

In college with Vlad Masters, until he had disappeared, only to return grievously ill.

His phone rang. Bruce stared at the call. An unknown American number. He’d long ago stamped out the scam callers and telephone advertisers from ever bothering him or his family. The only person who could be calling this number was someone who knew it. Or at least someone who’d manually dialled it and wasn’t a scammer.

Hope began to swell. Surely it couldn’t be. It had to be Damian. Wasn’t it? No, he had to quash his hopes down. He had to stay focused.

Bruce answered the call.

“Hello, Bruce Wayne speaking. How may I help you?” His body tensed, hoping to God that it would be his son’s voice on the line, in the one and a million chance.

But what came through the line wasn’t his son’s voice. Or anyone’s voice. Instead, a series of frantic high-pitched trills, clicks and whistles came through. Almost like the caller put the phone next to an excited dolphin.

“Listen, I do not have time for any pranks. Who is calling me and why?” Bruce clenched his first. Of course he was a fool to get his hopes up.

Another frantic dolphin call. What a waste of time.

“I hope you’re proud of yourself for prank calling me.” The clicking went on in even more rapid succession, but Bruce ignored it. “Goodbye, and do not call this number again.”

Bruce hung up.

He hung his head in his hands, wishing for Damian to be back and safe. Wishing nobody had to be in danger.

#dpxdc #danny fenton #damian wayne #dcxdp #merman #merboy #mermaid au #angst #bruce wayne #oblivious bruce wayne #mer!danny fenton #mer!danny #mer!damian wayne #violence

[jolenes-doppelganger]

Twisted Motives (Chpt. 1)

Larissa Weems x Fem!Reader

Chapter 1: Caught

Summary: A troubled writer flees from her troubled job in New York to teach a workshop on creative writing. However new she appears to Jericho, Y has history, a child born of the D’je tribe, a nomadic group native to the East Coast, Y’s existence has been shrouded in mystery since the moment she was born. Finding comraderie in the most unexpected not places, of people, Y mistakes her acceptance for safety. As things at Nevermore take a turn for the worst, Y learns that it isn’t just her secrets that are at stake, but the whole of Nevermore. [SO much world-building in this fic, will be a series].

Warnings: Written third-person, reader identified as ‘Y’ for my own sanity, Hispanic culture incorrectly used as a tool to teach (piñatas are NOT properly used).

Word Count: 2.1k words

The rain poured through the open cracks in the stone of Nevermore, slowly trickling down through the walls and into Y’s classroom. Buckets quietly tinged as drops of water splashed at the bottom of the tin. It added to the ambience of her classroom, the dim light and walls decorated with posters of classic English and Russian literature, the cornerstone of Y’s teaching style. Truth be told she had never expected to be teaching a classroom, especially with her religious and cultural preferences. But Y was mistaken, the students were both accepting and a bit relieved to have a teacher just as outcast as them. It was a simple job, albeit filled with corrections and piles of students short stories that never seemed to run out. But every once in a while, on a day identical to this one, the students were given the chance to put their creative ideas out into the world.

Paper and glue filled every open surface, the students happily slapping on the tiny colored paper shreds onto balloons. This was Y’s crowning accomplishment as a teacher, and activity both educational and engaging. The balloons has been filled with not candy, or toys, but rather jumbo puzzle pieces painted white and scrawled on in sharpie, puzzle pieces that once exposed, would be constructed to form the chronological composition of the student’s ideal fantasy novel. The piñatas would be decorated with a short summaries of their stories. The students had chattered about this activity since Monday, and it had drawn the attention of a good portion of the staff, including the principal.

“Alright everyone, find a good stopping place and direct your attention to the front please,” Y called.

The students begrudgingly stopped their crafting, sighing and groaning as they turned their attention to the strangely dressed woman at the front.

“Principal Weems is coming in to examine the progress of your writing piñatas, and I expect you all to be on your best behavior,”

Students began to roll their eyes and idly chatter among themselves.

“The most respectful students get candy. More specifically, skittles or starburst,”

Several of the boys whooped and the classroom was once again filled with laughter and talk, bubbling up like a milk-filled pot. Y smiled, her students were so full of life, and it refreshed her.

“Now, I expect her in about 5 minutes, assuming she’s early per usual, but since we have a little bit of time, how about we do the daily question?”

The daily question consisted of student’s questions pre-written and left in a jar. One question was pulled per day and answered unless it was otherwise inappropriate or otherwise irrelevant to Y’s stance as a teacher. Most questions were silly, ‘Favorite color’, ‘What are your big three’, and so on.

“The daily question is….” Y said, shuffling her hand around the glass jar until she caught ahold of a corner, “What are your cultural practices and how do they influence the way you dress?”

Y was shocked. It was neither inappropriate or otherwise irrelevant, but so thoughtful was this question that it surprised her. The handwriting was neat and elegant, and Y immediately narrowed it down to a few girls. It would take further inspection to be sure, but she suspected it was Wednesday who wrote it.

“Well,” Y began, “My cultural practices are heavily influenced by-“

The door swung open to reveal the tall figure of Principal Weems, dressed to kill as was customary for her. Y and Weems exchanged a glance before Larissa nodded for her to continue.

“Right, as I was saying per the daily question, my cultural practices are influenced by D’je spirituality which follows the movement of celestial bodies, more specifically the moon, which dictates how we dress, eat, and conduct our lives,”

Y paced around the front of the room, uncomfortable under the intense scrutiny of Principal Weem’s gaze.

“It is practice that all D’je tribes folk wear the Lorid, or the head piece that covers our scalp. It is not a hijab or a hair covering, but rather a symbol of our devotion to the moon,”

Weems nodded as Y spoke, intrigued by her culture. This was the first time Y had publicly spoke about her cultural customs in such explicit detail, and it entranced her.

“We also wear the Særth, or the wrapping that covers our back and upper chest. This too is tradition. All garments, whether cultural or otherwise, must follow the moon cycle. Dark, heavy garments are worn on the New and Waning moons, while lighter, brighter, garments are worn during the full and waxing moons,”

By this point all students were engaged and intrigued by Y’s brief introduction into the D’je cultural beliefs. The tribe was a quiet part of the Jericho community, a small group living in a secluded reservation up in the mountains above Jericho. Not much was made public about their traditions, but the bloody history of the D’je people was carved into local legends. A defensive and deeply rooted tribe, these people had not once been moved from their land, rather they were known for keeping to themselves and generally avoiding colonizers, a trait that bore them much bloodshed during the early stages of colonization.

But the history was as deeply intriguing as were the whispers. Locals had spun tales of the deformities the D’je tribe hid, the monstrous scales and crooked tails they hid, the deformed backs, the bald scalps. They were all bullshit of course. At least that’s what Y had adamantly defended to her students.

“Alright. That’s a brief summary of my cultural traditions, please welcome Principal Weems to your stations, I’m sure she has much to explore,” Y said, a tight smile on her face.

As the Principal took note of every students design, Y took a moment to fiddle with the Lorid. All this scrutiny had worried her. It was a full moon which meant Y was as lightly dressed as could be reasonable in this chilly climate, all of her hair exposed and cascading down her neck and back. The Lorid was secured by a thousand pins, but Y still felt nervous. Being the full moon Y was granted exemption from her evening classes to attend a tribal gathering, but she still had a good hour before then.

“Ms. Y, I am pleased with both your teaching and relationship with your students,” Principal Weems chirped, breaking Y’s inner monologue.

“Well thank you Principal Weems, I’ve grown accustomed to both in the two months I’ve been here,” Y nervously smiled.

“Oh for the last time, it’s Larissa when we’re alone,” Larissa playfully scolded.

Y’s smile melted into a genuine one, relief washing over her like a cool breeze.

“I was so honored to hear about your cultural practices. I’m well aware of how tight-liked you usually are,” Larissa continued.

“Am I tight-lipped or did you just never ask?” Y joked.

Both women laughed at this, comraderie bubbling as the students finished up their projects.

“Class, this is your five-minute warning!” Y called, briefly breaking from her brief conversation with Larissa.

As the students filed out of her classroom, Y anxiously waited for Larissa to excuse herself. Although she was not teaching a class, Y had a mountain of grading to get caught up on, and her prep-period only allotted an hour before she was expected to leave and attend the D’je ritual.

“Larissa, I am delighted to have had your presence in my classroom today, but I fear that my grading can only wait for so long,” Y sighed.

“Oh of course, I understand. Although I was hoping we could have a quick chat about next-year,” Larissa mused.

“Next year?” Y gasped.

“Well of course, we’d love to have you on the roster full-time,”

“Oh, well I just couldn’t be sure-“

“-Come discuss it with me in my office tomorrow morning before school. Here is some paperwork I’d like you to look over before then,” Larissa smiled, gently pushing the folder into your hands.

Y was left dumbfound as Larissa turned and walked down the row of desks, turning to momentarily smile before shutting the door. Looking at the stack of files Y groaned. The grading would have to wait.

<^*————————*^>

Y walked across the gravel road that led to the tribe’s gathering hall, tired and a bit depressed by her inactivity. The file had been filled with teacher reports and student notes praising Y’s teaching, how included and safe they felt, how writing would be their career once they left Nevermore, all of it was a trap devised by Larissa to keep Y there, to keep her teaching. Y’s simple plan to take a break from her novels had ended up being a roadblock, a sign post pointing in two conflicting directions. It was so overwhelming, and Y needed an escape. That’s what she found in the hall.

“Y, you’ve come!” Sierra, Y’s younger sister cheered as she ran towards her. “C’mon, it’s time to remove your Lorid and Særth,”

Y smiled as she slowly began to fiddle with the headpiece, watching as her sister did the same. Bobby-pins decorated the floor as they hastily unwrapped the head covering to reveal their dark horns. The Lorid was indeed triangle-shaped, constructed in a way that hid and concealed their horns without adding too much weight or bulk to the hair. Most horns were no more than three or four inches, pointing at an angle that made for easy concealment. But the Jericho tribe was known for larger horns, big twisted things that led for tricky concealment. Such was Y’s curse.

The Særth was next, carefully unraveling the twisted fabric, Y let out a sigh of relief as her wings were slowly unbound. When properly wrapped, Y could get away with the excuse of bad posture, one she had often used in the city, but at Nevermore she had grown more lax, a decision that both relieved and prevented wing cramps. The Jericho wingspan was also notably larger than most tribes. It made for easier and prolonged flying, a trait all members took advantage of.

“Did you hear, Aunt Cara gained five pounds last week from the baby, I don’t think she’ll be able to fly tonight, at least not for long,” Sierra giggled.

“That baby is gonna be massive,” Y smirked. “Hopefully she won’t need a C-section, Doctor Mark might have to be re-sworn in,”

The girls giggled and joked as they made their way over to the open arena, stretching and pumping their wings as they went. Joined by a group of 70 adults and 10 children, they listened as Chief Vera prompted the ceremony.

The Full Moon ceremony consisted of a little dancing, singing and a few whispered prayers of protection for the night’s adventures. Warnings and reminders were given: Don’t fly directly in the moons light, don’t approach residences and don’t fly towards lights. Ever since the appearance of the Jersey-Devil’s legend, the D’je people had been hyper-vigilant against being spotted, but the story continue as people blamed the tribes uncovered forms on a devilish creature born of the night.

The girls were unconcerned, however. They knew the rules by now, and could recite them in their sleep. Eventually a horn was blown, and the D’je people took to the skies. Sierra and Y quickly banked toward the Nevermore school, a river and several scenic bits of the forest begged to be visited on that night.

As they flew closer, the girls spotted a dim light quietly pacing through the undergrowth. Y quietly flew into the upper foliage of the trees, being sure to land quietly. Sierra was soon to follow, and they slowly began gliding from tree to tree, closer towards the figure that dared step so close into D’je territory.

The form was familiar to Y, and she gasped as she made out the figure of Larissa, quietly walking a forest path through the wilderness. Y was clumsy, too focused on getting closer than to being quiet, and a branch snap alerted Larissa. Y watched in horror as Larissa extended the torch up and toward the outer branches, inches from Y’s feet. But Y wasn’t alone. Sierra let out a series of short yelps, in imitation of a hoot owl, and flew off, giving Y a short period to fly off before Larissa turned the torch back towards her. Y flew forward, determined to make it our, but a curiosity drove her to look back, to see the face of a woman she had so unnecessary spooked.

The torch light grazed against her face, and for a short moment, Larissa and Y’s eyes met. Y shook and wearily flew back to the tribal hall, her mind frozen, replaying the look of recognition on Larissa’s face over and over, waking and dreaming.

A/N: This is a slow-burn. Sorry not sorry, I am not 18 for another week and I refuse to write smut until I can reasonably say I could at least be legally pegged. Will I write it? Stay tuned.

#larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #gwendolyn christie #gwen christie #Gwendolyn Christie x reader #wednesday #original character

[sam-loves-seb]

wip wednesday friday

we're gonna pretend it's still friday and not ten minutes past midnight here on the east coast (oops). thanks for the tags @jrooc & @mybrainismelted & @transmurderbug <3

wip is from a one shot i'm working on that will (hopefully) be posted next week. it's a bit of a longer snippet so i'm putting it under the cut. enjoy.

March, for some people, always seems to drag on. It’s a long, cold, rain-filled month, especially in Chicago, and it makes it feel like it goes on and on with no end in sight.

Ian, however, finds it to always go by fast.

The twenty-first is here in the blink of an eye, and when he wakes up on the morning of his fourth wedding anniversary—and God isn’t just the thought of that alone enough to make him grin—he wakes up smiling.

Mickey is still asleep beside him, curled up on his side with his half his face smushed into the pillow, his chest rising and falling with each steady breath.

The sun is just starting to rise, and Ian quickly looks over and checks his phone. They still have ten minutes until the first alarm, and he leaves his phone on the bedside table. In the drawer below it, he shuffles around the half-empty bottles of lube and spare phone charger, then lifts his journal just enough to slide out the envelope beneath it.

There’s nothing of note on either side of it, except for the scrawled Mick on one side. Despite the lack of fanfare, Ian grins at what he knows is inside.

These days he tries his best not to wake a sleeping Mickey if he can help it, but Ian figures that if there was ever going to be an exception, today would be it.

He slides over under the covers and rolls Mickey onto his back. Mickey makes a half-conscious noise at the movement, but that’s about it.

Ian leaves the envelope on his side of the bed and stretches himself out over his husband. He keeps the blankets pulled up high on his shoulders because he knows it’s fucking freezing in their apartment in the mornings, and he kisses Mickey’s neck.

Another faint sound comes from Mickey, who’s starting to wake slowly, rolling his head over on the pillow and shifting his shoulders.

Ian continues his path of kisses up to Mickey’s jaw, then switches to the other side. He takes his time, not really looking to start anything, just trying to wake his husband up with soft, loving kisses. It’s slow, careful work, but it’s so worth it when he sees the smile that tugs at the corners of Mickey’s mouth the very first second he’s aware of what’s happening.

“Morning,” Ian whispers into his skin, gently nipping at the skin just above his t-shirt collar.

Mickey hums in approval, lazily lifting one arm and getting his fingers in Ian’s hair. “Hey.”

Ian kisses Mickey’s chest over his t-shirt while his hands slip under it by his sides. Mickey’s body is still sleep-warm and soft, fitting perfectly between his palms.

When Ian reaches the center of his chest, he kisses Mickey once there, then again slightly to the left. He lets his lips linger over the tattoo that he can’t see, but knows the exact position of, then props his chin up on his husband’s chest.

“Happy Anniversary,” Ian whispers, watching Mickey blink his eyes open in the early morning light.

Mickey smirks. “Is that today?”

Ian lightly bites at his pec, and Mickey’s chest rumbles with a laugh.

“Happy Anniversary,” Mickey says with a fond smile. He pushes Ian’s curls back off his forehead. “Four years, huh?”

“Uh huh,” Ian agrees, slowly pushing Mickey’s shirt up his stomach. He dips his head lower, kisses his husband’s belly.

“That’s a long time.”

“Mm.” Ian kisses his navel. “I think we’re just getting started.”

Mickey grins. “Yeah. I think so too.”

After he’s satisfied with his exploration of kissable exposed skin, Ian pulls Mickey’s t-shirt back down and settles heavily on top of him, fitting his body between Mickey’s legs. He brings their faces closer together and kisses him soft and sweet.

Mickey hums as Ian pulls back, the morning sun dancing in his eyes. “Alright Gallagher,” he says. “What do you got planned?”

“For today? Not much,” Ian says with an honest shrug. “Work, some dinner. Maybe we’ll make out a little on the couch later. Oh,” he pretends to just remember something and reaches out to grab the envelope from the other side of the bed. “And there’s this.”

Mickey eyes the plain white envelope suspiciously as he slowly takes it from Ian’s hands. His brows furrow slightly. “I thought for sure you’d make us take the day off from work.”

“No, not today,” Ian says playfully, pretending to think about it. “But tomorrow, don’t bother setting your alarm.”

Mickey grins, all teeth. “Long weekend?”

The hopefulness in his eyes is already enough to convince Ian that what he has planned is a good idea. Just the prospect of a day off has Mickey beaming.

“Extra-long,” Ian tells him, rolling over to the side and propping his elbow up on the mattress, his head resting on his fist. “We took off Monday too.”

Mickey pushes himself up on the pillows so he’s sitting up a bit more, the unopened envelope still in his hands. “We can’t skip Monday, man, we have that huge shipment coming in for the northside grow houses.”

“Carlos is gonna do it.”

“Carlos?” Mickey rasies his brows. “He’s already working forty hours next week.”

“Yeah, he knows,” Ian says, snaking his arm around Mickey’s waist. “He’s looking forward to the overtime in his paycheck.”

Mickey grumbles. “I bet he is, greedy little fucker.”

Ian rolls his eyes. “Mickey, he needs the money. His wife’s pregnant.”

“She is?” Mickey asks, as if this is the first he’s hearing about it. “When’s the kid gonna be here?”

“Not ‘til August—are you gonna open that or what?”

TBC [coming soon to an archive near you]

#gee can you guess what i'm writing this for #i wonder! #i still have so much left to write for it so fingers crossed i actually finish this on time oops we'll see !! #anyway #wip #wip game #tag game #gallavich #gallavich wip

[aplaceinthedark]

DROWN you OUT

a DROWNED story

Word Count: 2.3k+

CW: religious themes, supernatural themes, LOTS of drowning, depression, brief mention of suicide attempts, blood, murder, cannibalism

Blinded by a fear of feeling, these are the kings we chose. Lost and looking for the meaning, I've been searching high and low.

When we fade into nothing; when we go up in the smoke, we'll beg God for a mercy that he knows we'd never show.

Despite the hot June night, the river water surrounding Joakim felt ice cold.

He didn’t know why this was the first thing he thought of as he feebly struggled against the many sets of hands holding him underwater. He was absolutely panicking, his body fighting instinctively, but the only thing currently going through his head was the temperature of the damn river water. He probably should be more concerned about the people who he thought were his fellow congregates and why they wouldn’t let him come up for air, but he’d been brainwashed into thinking that he deserved this fate.

He’d left his home country of Sweden years ago, coming to the east coast of America, but never quite settling down. He’d gone from state to state, starting up north and making his way down, trying to find a new home, but nothing seemed to stick. He’d never felt accepted for the ways he’d been raised; a mixture of the natural ways with the Christian God.

And then he moved to the Appalachian mountains, where he met The Children of the Revered Father.

A small group of them were passing out flyers one Sunday when Joakim was traveling through. He found himself going to one of their weekly gatherings, since why the hell not? That’s how he found out that these people were exactly what he’d been looking for. Pretty soon, he found himself living in the nearby town, surrounded by who he had thought were kind, loving people. He attended gatherings and workshops two or sometimes three times a week. The Revered Father had become his whole world; like getting swept up in a tidal wave.

But pretty soon, he found that he would experience the crash.

Some of his friends had invited him to a midnight mass sort of thing, to welcome the first throes of summer. He gladly accepted. They mentioned something about baptization, to fully accept everyone into the Family, and Joakim was thrilled. It meant that he was finally being accepted into something here, something he hadn’t felt since he left home all those years ago.

They’d all gone out into the woods after night fell. The entire congregation met up at the deepest hollow, where they had their monthly moonless gatherings. They said the usual words, the usual hymns, the usual rituals. Some drinks were passed around; something stronger than what they usually had, Joakim thought. There was talk of the proceedings, about how the Revered Father would test their faith. Joakim didn’t think of what that would mean if he failed; he was faithful, he wouldn’t fail.

Except he must have. Why else would those he had called friends be holding him under the water for longer than the others? Why else would the murky river water taste foul as his lungs finally caved and forced his mouth open? Why else would the water fill his lungs, making him feel heavier than he actually was?

Through the murkiness of the water and the flurry of limbs, Joakim thought he saw something. He thought he saw a low, red pulse on the shoreline of the river. He thought he saw a pair of matching eyes staring at him, despite a small part of his brain telling him that there should be now way he could see that through all the chaos going on.

Those same eyes told him to sleep, to give in. And despite his body telling him not to, his mind eventually did.

His limbs started freezing up, the heaviness and cold settling into his bones to make them useless. The hands on him started to slowly leave one by one, and for a brief moment he thought about freedom, how he could finally fight his way to the surface, but he couldn’t get his body to cooperate. His clothes weighed him down.

Finally, as he sank to the bottom of the river, the stones digging into his back, he couldn’t help but think of how he had failed his God. As his vision went dark, he felt the rage fill him. There’s no room for salvation, he thought, Now, there’s only room for demons.

And that was how the young human, Joakim Karlsson, died.

On a canvas we stained with blood and painted with our sins, there's a candle melting and it's burning at both ends.

We'll take and take 'til it caves and drowns us in the wax it drips. Like a moth to a flame you never should've fucking lit.

You can give sight to the blind, but you can't force them to see. You could take us back in time, but it wouldn't change a thing.

When Joakim was a child, he was told all about the fairy tales of his homeland. But the one that intrigued him the most was the tale of the näcken.

He was always told to avoid the rivers without his parents nearby, lest he be lured to the bottom of a näcken’s song. It never bothered him much. In fact, when he grew older, he said that he wanted to find one so he himself could learn how to play guitar as well as any supernatural water creature could.

He never expected to become one himself.

Unlike some of the other Hollowed Souls, Joakim had his faculties after the Watcher of the Woods left his body to become overtaken by the curse of the Shenandoah. At first, he didn’t know what to do with himself, and as he wandered up and down the river, he grew to hate everything. Fuck this, fuck that. Fuck this, fuck that. The worst part was that he found out that he couldn’t truly leave the river; not without running water, and certainly not for long periods of time. But eventually, that pain faded away, leaving him more hollow than ever before.

He discovered his curse after he felt such sadness that couldn’t be expressed like before. He could make the motions, but he couldn’t release the emotions and grief and pain. It wasn’t until he began singing that he realized why. It eased the pain, but as people came to the river, he wanted nothing to do with it.

And worse, there was always the voice in the back of his head that compelled him to do it.

CONSUME.

The sadness only grew with every young life he took, whether it was by devouring their flesh or by drowning them, almost like how he was drowned. Their deaths only prolonged his sadness, for now there was no way he could ever see salvation in the afterlife.

He knew this for certain. It was how he discovered that he could no longer die, after all.

Soon, he learned to just become numb to the death that surrounded him. After all, how could he live when he was already dead on the inside?

Luckily, around that time was when he met Nick Folio. To be honest, he wasn’t sure why he let the kid stay around. He was annoying at the best of times, a straight up demon at the worst. But after a while, with no voices or dread filling his head up, he realized that Nick was more of a balm than a hindrance.

Within a year, Joakim had crafted a guitar of his own making. The body was made out of driftwood, the strings made out of various types of hair. He was pretty proud of himself for the craftsmanship. It felt less like an instrument and more like a piece of himself, like an extension of his body. He grew possessive over it, to the point when Nick asked if he could play Freebird on it, Joakim nearly tore off the boy’s arm. Between the two, he felt like he didn't need anything else.

Except he did feel like he still needed more. And it didn't come to him until a year after Nick did.

HELP.

Joakim couldn’t leave the river for long periods of time. He found that after a while the itch to sing and the hunger to play his guitar would grow. To save hikers and campers, he would stay holed up in his little hole tucked into a waterfall. But this voice; this New Voice in his head compelled him to abandon the river to find it.

That’s when Joakim found himself standing in the hollow where the Children of the Revered Father once stood. He froze. Why would the voice bring him here? Was it a new torture for him to endure? He snapped out of it when he felt Nick shift into the Church Grim and started digging at a spot in the middle of the hollow with a whine.

This is crazy, Joakim thought to himself, even though he’d seen enough in the past few years that would prove that thought wrong. Especially when a young man showed up, out of breath, and when he looked up, Joakim watched as his blue-gray eyes shift to a deep green.

“I hope I’m not too late,” he said.

If God came down from his kingdom; He came down from his home, and we asked him if he'd take us back, He would surely tell us no.

If God came down from his kingdom; He came down from his throne, and we asked him if he'd take us back, He would tell us we can't go.

To a rat in a maze the end is where the start begins, but if we made it out I know that we would do it all again.

We live and die in vain like treasure on a sinking ship. All in the name of a God we'd just abandon and forget.

They'd used him.

Joakim had heard Nick's tale about how he'd been treated, but until he met Nicholas and Noah, he hadn't believed that the Children were the same group. But they were, and they used him just to appease their so-called Revered Father, some forest-spirit claiming it was a god.

But it was dead to this plane of existence and another took its place. Noah had given him a choice, unlike the previous Watcher of the Woods. Joakim asked to give him some time, because he still had things to do, before he could make up his mind.

There were some loose ends that needed to be tied up.

With it being Midsummer's Eve, Noah had heard the whisperings of how the Cult of the Black Stag was going to attempt to reform and bring back their “Revered Father,” and it was a perfect opportunity to get their revenge. It was a perfect opportunity to get his revenge.

And he got everything he wished for.

They came to him in waves. Slowly at first, but surely. They would come out of the woods quietly, their faces slack but their eyes wide with fear, and they would slowly shuffle into the water. One by one, they would come closer to him and his music, until their knees disappeared into the water; until their waists, their chests, and their shoulders disappeared. He didn't let them go until their heads were fully submerged.

The ones he didn't recognize Joakim let be swept up into the rapids. Those he hadn’t much care for. Those ones were pulled away and under, their breath stolen from them by the current or by a random rock they hit their heads on.

The ones he did recognize, however: the ones that he had called friends once; the ones who pinned his head below the surface so he would be the Hollowed Vessel. Those he pulled closer to him. When they were surrounding him, he set his guitar on the rock, and then he slipped into the water.

And with a scream to drown out all other sounds around them, the bloodbath began.

Afterwards, when the river no longer ran red and Joakim stepped foot on land, Noah once again asked, “You want to help protect these woods from evil again?”

This time, Joakim had his answer.

And from then on, Joakim Karlsson became known as the Drowned, the nacken of the Shenandoah Rivers.

We're dying everyday. Tell me is it all in vain? Is it worth the suffering? Is it worth the price we paid?

Is it worth it?

Joakim frowns. Is it worth it?

Pausing his fingers, he peeks up at the sky. The morning light was washing the river and woods in pale tones. The same sky he's been seeing the past ten years, it never changed except with the seasons. Another summer solstice had come and gone with no sign of the children returning.

But Joakim could tell that wasn't true. He and Noah have felt something stirring lately. Something felt off with the Woods.

But Jolly kept playing his guitar and singing softly to himself, humming along to the melody he created a couple of days ago.

“If God came down from His kingdom, He came down from His home, and we asked Him if he'd take us back, He would surely tell us no.”

WE'RE ALMOST THERE. NICK'S BRINGING A “FRIEND”, SO FAIR WARNING.

Joakim rolls his eyes at Noah's voice in his head, but acquiesces to Noah's unspoken command. With hardly any movement, Joakim shifts form into something less horrifying than the drowned corpse he normally looks like. It's his skin that he used to have back when he was alive.

It's miniscule, barely even noticeable, but Joakim smiles to himself as he continues playing his guitar.

“WHAT UP JOLLEEEEEE!” he hears Noah calling from behind him. He turns to face his friends.

And he thinks to himself, Yes, it is worth it.

You can give sight to the blind, but you can't force them to see. You could take us back in time, but it wouldn't change a fucking thing.

#bad omens fanfiction #bad omens rpf #bad omens au #jolly karlsson fanfiction #horror au #paranormal au #series: lost in the labyrinth #fic: tales from the grove of secrets #cw: religious themes #cw: supernatural themes #cw: drowning #cw: blood #cw: suicide #cw: cannibalism #cw: depression #cw: death

[pockettwinzz]

Healing Hearts (2)

read part 1 first~

please do not copy, translate or repost w/o tags. i worked very hard on this and this is all my hardwork :3.

Reblogs are always welcome <3

For a moment, the words hung in the air between them like mist. Jake's expression shifted, his eyes widening in surprise and disbelief. And then, slowly, he reached out and cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away a stray tear. "Yn," he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. "I never knew..."

Time seemed to stand still as they leaned in toward each other, their lips just inches apart. Their hearts pounded in unison, and the air around them crackled with an electricity that neither of them could deny. And then, with a softness that belied his strength, Jake pressed his lips against hers, drawing her close. Her heart soared as she felt his fingers tangled in her hair, his tongue teasing her lips before gaining entry.

As their kiss deepened, yn could feel the weight of their shared secrets lifting from their shoulders, like a heavy cloak discarded in the sunlight. They were no longer alone, no longer hiding from the world. They were together, finally, and nothing could tear them apart.

When they finally pulled away from each other, they were both flushed and breathless. Jake reached out to wipe the tears from her cheeks, his thumbs tracing the contours of her face. "I love you too, yn," he said, his voice husky with emotion. "And I always will." And in that moment, as they gazed into each other's eyes, they knew that they had found something precious and rare: a love that would weather any storm, a love that would last forever.

They spent the rest of the day in a haze of newfound happiness, walking hand in hand through the halls, laughing together in class. Even the teachers seemed to notice the change in them, their smiles indulgent and understanding. And as the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the campus, they shared one last kiss under the watchful eye of the school bell tower, promising to always find their way back to each other.

The weeks that followed were a whirlwind of new experiences: late-night talks, secret dates, and stolen kisses in dark corners. They were inseparable, their every movement seemingly choreographed, their every thought synchronized. They didn't need words to communicate; a glance, a touch, was enough. And as they grew closer, their love deepening with each passing day, they began to realize that they didn't need the confines of the school. Their lives were inextricably intertwined. They even went to prom together, their first dance as a couple etched forever into their memories.

As they began to plan for their future, they faced a new challenge; how to make their relationship work when they were separated by the vast expanse of the country.

Jake had been accepted into an Ivy League university on the east coast, while yn had her heart set on staying close to home and attending a nearby college. But they refused to let distance come between them, vowing to make their long-distance relationship work. They talked on the phone every night, sending each other letters and care packages, and even found ways to sneak in visits whenever they could.

The years passed, and they both graduated from college, Jake with a degree in business and yn with a degree in art history. They continued to support each other's dreams, Jake's career taking him across the globe and yn's passion for art leading her down a path of her own. And through it all, they remained inseparable, their love as strong and vibrant as ever.

One day, as they sat together in a park, watching the leaves change color and the world around them grow older, Jake finally popped the question. He got down on one knee, pulled out a small velvet box, and proposed. Of course, yn said yes, and they began planning their wedding, their future together filled with promise and hope.

As they walked hand in hand into the sunset, they knew that they were not just two people in love, but rather two halves of a whole, two souls destined to be together forever.

moodboard is from pinterest

tagging my moots <3 : @alvojake @yeonzzzn @wonlvkay @wondipity @dollywons @deluluriddhi @certified-ni-ki-lover @heeslut4life

{feel free to ask to be tagged~}

#pockettwinzz writes #enha #enhypen #enha fluff #jake enhypen #enhypen jake #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #sim jaeyun #sim jake

[ms-nesbit]

finally!!!

Apple Cobbler and Tea

jason todd x reader fic

rated: 18+ (minors, stay away, you vile cretins)

warnings/notes: female receiving oral, female reader, mentions of heaven and hell and all that bullshit, swearing, brief trauma mention(?), jason and reader have an established relationship

summary: reader wakes up to jason and apple cobbler - you cant decide which you want to taste first, and neither does he.

"Wake up, Hun."

the words kissed your ears so softly, waking you from your slumber. Your eyes opened to Jason, whose smile was tender and chest…bare?

Perhaps the incorrect description, given that his midriff was covered by the dirty apron he wore. It read, Some guys just can't hold their arsenic. You reread it, falling in love with the tall dork. "Mornin', Pumpkin." he greeted, round nose twitching its own greeting at you.

His hair was messy (per usual, an untidy beauty matching the untamed chaos in his everyday life), thin strands feathered across his forehead. The white patch on his widow's peak was your favorite, and when you two first began seeing each other, you'd comment that he was kissed by an angel before being dropped down, but he'd insist that a demon struck him so hard, he was revived; in moments like these, the warm ceiling light behind his head and presenting him in a godliness manner, the way his expression was so soft, voice so delicate, there was no doubt that the hellboy is, in fact, a blessing.

"Am I in heaven?" your tone was comical, but honest.

Your nose filled with aromas of cinnamon and something sweet - you couldn't quite make sense of it, a concoction maybe - until Jason said, "I made you apple cobbler."

Fuck. This is a dream, and you were bound to wake up in another jail cell or, ideally, your shithole of a bedroom. Instead of pinching yourself, you sat up on your elbows, planting a kiss on the brunette's bottom lip (jutted out in its relaxed state, as if patiently waiting to be met with yours). You hummed, pleased with the taste of honey and mint.

"Gonna get up, or want a taste of me first?" Jason's smile, initially benign, shifted into an all-too familiar balance between cocky and sultry. After seeing the man for years, you know it's his trademark, something that attracted you to him, but drove his siblings up a wall.

Then you remembered that you could throw it back at him, too. "That depends, Dear," a brow quirked, "am I gonna get a sample like last night, or the full meal?" your eyes scanned his figure, heat forming in your core. The apron was tied tightly around his body (rather uncomfortable for a baker), so you knew his act was more than a simple wardrobe change.

He cupped your chin, lifting your head so your eyes met his. "Actually, if it's not too much, I'd like to have you for breakfast." His cloudy grey eyes revealed a full moon beneath them, a primal starvation spelled out to you. "May I?"

You took your bottom lip in between your teeth, nodding slowly. In a swift motion, Jason lifted you from your shared bed and carried you into the kitchen, placing you onto the dark wooden table with a bounce that reverberated on your breasts and stomach. Jason chuckled, pleased with the result of his actions.

"Baby." the single word spoke volumes, his East coast accent thick and entangled with lust and poor self-restraint. You knew what he wanted, asked for, without even another breath, and so you parted your legs, revealing a lack of undergarments underneath your loosely fitted shorts.

Jason groaned under his breath. "Fuck." when intoxicated by arousal, his curses bear so much more weight, and you're shameless to admit more wetness pooling in your heat.

Falling to his knees, Jason reached around and flattens his palms against your back, and pulls your hips closer to his face. He takes one finger to hook aside the breathable cotton of your shorts, and in mere seconds, your vision is blurred and senses heightened as his tongue begins dragging slowly against your core.

After years, you both adapted ways to make each other cum in minutes or less - a game developed when he was imprisoned and was granted limited visitation from you - but this time, you could tell it was different. He wanted to tease you, have you earn it.

He really is the devil. "Oh, god." you choked, hips already rocking in impatience.

You felt his smirk against your pussy, and his eyes lasered at every move you made. You were about to grab his hair when he stopped you, pinning your hands at your sides with his iron grip.

"Please." you begged, and only then did Jason's tongue flick quicker and harder against your clit, occasionally sucking and circling it with his mouth.

Your back arched and nails dug into the tough skin of his hands, ungodly noises leaving you in a possessed state. "Jason, I wanna come," you quivered as you spoke, his tongue relentless as he ate you, "Please make me come."

He lifted your legs so that they rested on his shoulders, and you hooked your ankles behind his back. Hips trembling as they tilted, you felt yourself on a brink of ecstasy, face contorting into a sobbing mess as Jason allowed you to ride his face for all it was worth.

"Fuck!" You gasped, orgasm sneaking up on you rapidly, Jason mopping up your mess like a starved beast. His eyes remained glued on you, cock hard and leaking precum underneath the thin fabric he wore. Maybe he'd fuck you senseless, or let you wrap your soft lips around his thick cock, but today he allowed his demons to relinquish him of self control, and consume you whole.

After he guided you through your high, the light returned to his eyes, yellow and orange rays reflecting from his irises. His hand splayed on the small of your back, in case you lost balance, and he remained kneeling before you, looking up at you with wonder and devotion.

You're a fireplace kindling for him after his cold, lonesome journeys to Hell and back, and he often wonders why you love him.

In the end, he's thankful that you do. "Wanna try that cobbler? Y'know, while it's still warm?"

You nodded tiredly. "Certainly." a word that answered all questions beneath his initial one, to lull his demons to sleep, and to soothe his nerves until he is shaken once again.

#mine #my post #robin #jason todd #batfamily #red hood #dc #dcu #red hood x reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x plus size reader #red hood x plus size reader #ao3

[seventeendeer]

I’d like to hear more about the unstoppable sand dune

haha thANK YOU anon for enabling me, I feel the world should know about the killer sand dune. it's so special to me

DISCLAIMER that this is all an ameteur sillyguy’s observations after one (1) day of researching the dune. do not trust my word on the dune. I’m just very excited and I want to talk about a cool thing I learned about. I will link a wikipedia article at the end of this post so anyone who wants to do proper research will have a place to start. this is simply me trying to infect you with excitement for the dune so that anyone who thinks this sounds cool can do their own research.

SO ANYWAY ABOUT THE DUNE !

for context, I live in denmark, which is 1. small, 2. flat and 3. generally very, very low-risk of natural disasters or extreme weather conditions. we generally don’t get big earthquakes or massive wildfires or tsunamis or even all that intense storms or anything like that. this is important to note because it is part of the reason my mind is blown by the giant fucking sand dune that apparently exists up north that used to DESTROY EVERYTHING IN ITS PATH up to and including entire forests and at least one town

the largest chunk of danish land is a narrow peninsula sticking up in a northern direction from germany. because there’s a little small ocean to the east and a fuck-off huge ocean to the west, the wind almost always blows from the western sea across the country, toward the eastern sea.

at one point a few hundred years ago, massive amounts of sand on the west coast just ... got up and left. the harsh wind and lack of vegetation to anchor the sand made it just sort of ... start creeping across the peninsula in the form of a gigantic dune. in a couple more hundred years, it will have fully crossed the peninsula and come up on the east coast.

some fun facts about the Giant Killer Dune:

- again, ate at least one town. the tower of a church is the only remnant of the town still sticking out of the dune.

- there was once an attempt to anchor the dune by planting grasses and pine trees on and near to it. this disturbed the dune’s eco system, however, so the state decided to buy up all the land on and around the dune in order to preserve it and allow it to continue on its path unhindered. the dune has acquired rights

- I can’t help but notice that if the dune continues on its path as predicted, it will eventually destroy roads and other infrastructure connecting the northernmost part of the peninsula to the rest of the country. I’m going to go ahead and assume someone is going to be doing something about that and we’re not just leaving Skagen to go full mad max fury road

- because the sand moves so slowly, the dune eviscerates any natural areas it comes across. it has eaten entire forests. nothing can survive under the sand long enough to see the light of day again. however, because of how dirt works, the dune also leaves behind gaps in the earth that fill with water, creating ponds and lakes, which eventually enable new vegetation to move in and start new densely-vegetated areas. the killer dune is apparently also the lifegiving dune, if you feel like being generous and Very patient

- if you’re less patient, be a bird! the dune is home to and a pitstop for several different types of birds, who have come to depend on it. this part gets me so fucking hyped. imagine being a bird on that dune. he can’t help but feel like his summer house has moved ever so slightly to the right compared to last year. his bird friends tell him he’s being weird but he knows the truth

- and here comes another part that is SO COOL. METAL SAND! THE PALE SAND IS STRIPED WITH METAL SANDS LIKE A PAINTING!! I have distant memories of visiting the dune as a child and using a magnet to draw out dark sand and seperate it from the pale sand. I still have a vial of the metal sand I keep with my rock collection. I have no idea if stealing from the dune is legal or ethical (surely not? there’s a lot of dune but not enough for everyone to take home souvenirs surely ???), but I didn’t realize. I have however treasured this sand for over a decade, which is ultimately what made me decide to look up the dune and learn all this cool stuff in the first place. now that I have an adult brain with adult context for how fucking cool this dune is. the magnetic sand is nicknamed ‘stardust’ by locals that I would very much like to meet and personally congratulate for somehow making the really cool dune even cooler

- its name, Råbjerg Mile, is also metal, but in the badass sense. “rå” = “raw” or “harsh”, “bjerg” = “mountain”, “mile” = “wandering dune.” they really named this thing “giant pile of sand coming to kick your ass”

here’s the english wikipedia link to the dune for anyone curious!!

all jokes aside, I really am so enchanted by this thing. I never even knew giant moving sand dunes like this existed! this is a mini biome that has only existed for a few hundred years and will eventually end the same way it began! and yet it’s become so important to the land and the animals that live and pass through here that people have fought to give it legal protection in the limited time it has yet to exist! I’m so glad it’s being taken care of and protected. what an absolute wonder. I’m so, so glad I took the time to read about it. god. geography you guys !!!!!!!

#asktheherd #once again thanking wikipedia for being a great starting point to just look up random stuff that will blow ur mind

[gardenofchrome]

RB Heatwave Oneshot

𝕾𝖔𝖓𝖌 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗: 'Heat Waves' by Glass Animals

*𝘙𝘉 𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘸𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 *𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘶𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘊𝘺𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘢𝘯* 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳*

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

You, Y/N, had fought in the Great War of Cybertron for nearly all of your existence. Wounded during one of the last battles on Cybertron before it fell, you escaped your home planet using a stasis pod, said pod crash-landed on a familiar planet, near the east coast of the United States, on an island that you later learned was called Griffin Rock.

The Rescue bots had, well, rescued you, pulling the injured Cybertronian from the water and flying you back to the firehouse, patching up your injuries.

You slowly opened your optics, them slowly adjusting to the light. "They're waking up!" A voice said from beside you.

You sit up suddenly, yelping in pain as a stabbing sensation fills your side. "Whoa, take it easy there," a deep voice said, laying a hand on you. You turn your helm, seeing a red firebot standing there. "Your injuries were pretty bad. You should rest."

You grit your denta, not noticing his insignia in your pained daze, and you leap off the table, tackling him.

The firebot grunts, and stumbles back. You hear pedsteps behind you and you turn, seeing more bots- a police bot, a construction bot, a medic bot.

They grab your arms as you try and pull from their grip. "Let me go, Decepticons!" You hiss.

"Decepticons?" The construction bot repeats in a confused tone.

"We're Autobots!" The medic bot points to the insignia on his chest. You stop struggling.

"I'm-I'm sorry." You say.

The firebot scowls, brushing himself off. "Hell of a punch you got there, especially for an injured bot."

"Who are you all?"

"Chase," the police bot says.

"Boulder," the construction bot says.

"Blades," the medic says. "Nice to have another Autobot here!"

"Heatwave," the firebot says last, crossing his arms. "Leader of Rescue Force Sigma 17. Now who are you?"

"I'm Y/N," you say. "And rescue force? I thought you guys were all wiped out."

"We left Cybertron before..." Blades falters at the end of the sentence.

You nod, knowing the end of the sentence. "Guess that explains it." You sit on the edge of the metal slab and look at your peds. There, you notice a few organics staring up at you, mixed expressions on their faces.

Your digits itch toward your weapon, but Heatwave catches your wrist. "Easy there- as much as Kade annoys me I don't need you turning him and the rest into bloodstains."

You look at them cautiously. "What are they?"

A man with greying hair and a mustache steps forward. "Humans; the native lifeforms to the planet we're currently on. My name is Charlie Burns- the current police chief here on Griffin Rock; and this is my family."

"Kade," a redhead says, crossing his arms as he looks up at you warily.

"Dani," the only girl in the group says.

"Graham," a man with thick-framed glasses says from beside Boulder.

"Cody," the last one says, appearing to be the youngest of the whole group. He smiles warmly up at you.

"We work with the bots here on the island to keep the peace," Charlie explains.

You look at the rescue bots up and down. "You all are not equipped for battle. How do you manage to keep the Decepticons away?"

"What are Decepticons?" Cody asks, and Boulder glances down at him.

"We'll explain later," the construction bot says quietly.

"There are no Decepticons here," Heatwave says. "Optimus and his crew deal with them. We just deal with emergencies that the humans living here have."

A disgusted look crosses your face plate momentarily. "Why would you spend all your time working for some lifeforms who could take care of themselves instead of helping your own kind fight back against tyrants and win back your home?"

This earns a scoff from the rescue bot leader. "That may be your priority, but it sure isn't ours. And like you said, we're not equipped for battle, we'd be a liability. If you want to join up with Prime and the rest, we'd be happy to open up a ground bridge and send you straight there." You notice a bitter edge to his voice, but you brush it off.

"Fine," you say, trying to stand up from the berth before promptly collapsing back down.

"Though perhaps you should get some more rest," Chase remarks. "Then you should go."

The bots help drag you back to a comfortable position on the metal slab, before leaving. You stayed still for a while before your optics couldn't stay open any longer.

-

When you regain consciousness, you hear the familiar sound of the striking metal. You sit up slowly, staring at Heatwave as he strikes a tall pole with his servos and legs, the sound echoing around the room.

"What are... what are you doing?" You ask, still groggy.

"Training," the firebot grunts as he continues to hit the metal.

"For what? Battle?"

"Just too-" he grunts as his servo connects again with the metal, "keep the Energon flowing you know."

You walk up to him. "Would you like a sparring partner instead of hitting that pole over and over again?"

Heatwave looks you up and down with his orange optics. "You're still injured, it wouldn't be fair," he replies.

You lung at the partially unsuspecting bot and sweep his legs, and the firebot goes down with a small but audible 'ompft!'

He does manage to grab your arm, using the momentum to drag you down with him as well.

You land directly overtop him, your face plate glowing orange as you quickly roll off. "I'll be fine," you say as you and the other Cybertronian push yourselves up.

Heatwave circles you, searching for your 'Achilles heel'. But eons of battle have taught you many valuable skills- such as how to hide your weaknesses.

He moves as if he is about to attack- a move that would've made most bots stumble back but you barely flinch, recognizing the movement, as it was something you had done many a time before.

Heatwave chuckles. "You're good."

The edges of your lips turn upwards into a smile for a moment, but your optics are searching for a flaw.

You thought back to when he did the fake-out attack- how his knee slightly buckled as he shifted his weight.

"You too, Wavey."

He scowled. "Don't call me that."

You laugh as you continue to circle him, trying to think of ways to provoke him. "Alright, sunshine."

Heatwave lungs as you, and you kid his bad knee, the firebot going down. You stand over him, placing your ped on his chassis. "You yield?"

Reluctantly, he nods a few seconds later, and you help him up. "Praxus," you say.

He blinks. "Sorry?"

"You were there when there was a huge fire in the city square in Praxus a few years before the war started; I remember. You pulled me out from under the rubble."

"Are you sure that was me? I wasn't exactly sporting this color scheme back in the day."

You nod. "Positive, your voice is kind of hard to forget. Sorry I didn't tell you earlier, it came to me while we were sparring. It was eons ago."

He sits down on a metal box. "How is Praxus doing nowadays?" Heatwave asks.

"It was obliterated a few months into the war," you say sadly.

He stares at the ground. "I'm... I'm not surprised."

You sit next to him. "Sorry, I had to break it to you."

"No, it's alright," he says. "The moment Optimus told us that Cybertron was dead, I had a feeling in my spark. I probably won't tell the others."

"You should," you say softly. "It's their home city too."

"Actually, Boulder was originally from Helix before he managed to get out. But anyway, they probably have the same feeling in their sparks as I did. And hearing about the death of Cybertron nearly broke all of us- mostly from the guilt that we couldn't do anything. I'm not going to go up to them and shatter their sparks even more."

Uncomfortable silence descends between the both of you, until the emergency alarm starts to ring. You stand quickly, wincing in pain, but grip your weapon tightly. "Are we under attack?!"

"Relax, its just the emergency alarm." Heatwave nonchalantly says, as Cody slides down the metal pole in the center of the room. 

"It's Jerry," he tells Heatwave. 

The leader sighs. "Again?"

"Who's Jerry?" You ask.

"A local truck driver who keeps getting into accidents. Me and my team need to head out pretty quickly."

"Can I come with? I would like to see you in action."

Heatwave is silent for a few moments. "Fine. Just make sure you don't get in the way."

The other bots walk to their respective hangers with their human partners. You stay with Heatwave as Kade walks up to you two. 

"Good luck out there, Wavey," you smirk. 

"I told you to stop calling me that!" He snaps. "Now, rescue bots, roll to the rescue!"

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

Part 2?

Find more Transformer oneshots in 'As It Was' by -Orionn- on Wattpad

#transformers #aligned continuity #heatwave #rescue bots #autobots #cybertron #tfrb #dani burns #graham burns #transformers rescue bots #cody burns #boulder #chase #blades #oneshot #y/n #charlie burns

[disco-elysium-via-polls]

🎵 Church

6. "She's not human."

KIM KITSURAGI - "Okay..." He takes his glasses off to clean them. Then, after a while, he says:

"This church. The coast in general... we shouldn't linger here. This isn't a good place to get lost in. We should conclude our business and move on."

4. [Visual Calculus - Challenging 12] Reconstruct the cracked glass.

VISUAL CALCULUS [Challenging: Failure] - The shards glimmer in the dark -- you see little pearls of light on the edges of the crack that splits the female figure. Something was written there... remains of broken letters line the emulsion. What it said, you do not know.

3. Turn away. [Leave.]

MAINFRAME - A machine stands in the corner, watched over by the figures on the stained glass window. It's turned on and quivering with soft electricity.

KIM KITSURAGI - The lieutenant doesn't say anything, but you can sense that he doesn't like you meddling with the machine.

2. "Wait, let me just investigate it…" (Step behind the computer.)

MAINFRAME - You see virescent PLAY and PRINT buttons on the keyboard. A hatch connected to the central compartment is wide open.

KIM KITSURAGI - The lieutenant says nothing. You see the machine's glowing frame reflected back from his diamond-shaped glasses. You're free to proceed.

Look inside the compartment.

Press PLAY.

Press PRINT.

[Leave.]

MAINFRAME - Behind the hatch sits a cube-like crisscross of filaments, smouldering in the dark like fireflies. Silver tape on the side says in black marker: "LOG (FEB-MAR)".

INTERFACING [Medium: Success] - This is the machine's filament memory. Press PLAY to access its contents.

3. Press PRINT.

MAINFRAME - Nothing happens.

2. Press PLAY.

Kim did say these were sometimes alarmed, but...

MAINFRAME - A bar of fabric right above the keyboard starts producing a soft hum. The sound of static seeps through the machine's planar magnetic driver.

HALF LIGHT [Medium: Success]- Oh no... it was already glowing and now it's also making a *sound*? It's probably some alien Seolite technology...

MAINFRAME - The static gets louder, slowly filling up the abandoned hall. Until a voice speaks out, crackling and old, cutting into the air...

EAST-INSULINDIAN REPEATER STATION - "Good morning, Fortress Accident on Saint-Brune, this is the East-Insulindian Repeater Station 1. Please repeat, is this the personal log?"

INTERFACING [Medium: Success] - This is a *human interface* -- a retired person sitting behind a switchboard somewhere.

"What's 'the personal log'?"

"Fortress Accident -- sounds familiar..."

"What are you, a *machine*? Or are you *alive*?"

"Thanks, but I'm finished with this call." (Press OFF/SILENT.)

EAST-INSULINDIAN REPEATER STATION - "The filament you have inserted into the core."

"You mean that glowing thing with a tape on it that said "LOG (FEB-MAR)"?"

"Ah, right. Thanks for the explanation."

EAST-INSULINDIAN REPEATER STATION - "I don't know, that's what I'm asking. Is this the personal log?"

"Yes."

"I don't know, maybe?"

"I swear I haven't touched anything!"

EAST-INSULINDIAN REPEATER STATION - The old lady sighs, as a wave of static distorts her voice to a robotic sprawl. "If you are unsure, could you please take a look?"

"How do I do that?"

EAST-INSULINDIAN REPEATER STATION - "Open the hatch on the compartment. Don't touch the wires, a current is running through it, but the core is safe. There's a filament inside -- I need to know what it's called."

"It just says 'LOG (FEB-MAR)' and nothing else."

EAST-INSULINDIAN REPEATER STATION - "Good. Please repeat the password."

KIM KITSURAGI - "Let's look around. There's no use trying to guess the answer."

"A password? I'm really bad at passwords. Can you give me a hint?"

"Is it my birthday?"

"This is the police. Please open this thing!"

"I don't know the password."

EAST-INSULINDIAN REPEATER STATION - "No."

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Medium: Success] - A hint system is not part of the protocol for repeater stations.

4. "I don't know the password."

EAST-INSULINDIAN REPEATER STATION - "Received. I will *register* this log-in attempt."

HALF LIGHT [Medium: Success]- That sounds bad -- a log-in *attempt*. Something a criminal would do.

I'm sure it's fine.

EAST-INSULINDIAN REPEATER STATION - "Fortress Accident, is there anything else I can do for you today?"

2. "Fortress Accident -- sounds familiar..."

EAST-INSULINDIAN REPEATER STATION - "The company on whose name the terminal you're currently using has been registered to."

It's been a very long time, but that's one of the companies listed on the doorbell by the bookstore.

"Do you have any other information about this company?"

EAST-INSULINDIAN REPEATER STATION - "One moment..." You hear her flip through a catalogue, before she reads out with studious care:

"'Fortress Accident SCA produces revolutionary interactive call-in radio games' -- that's what the catalogue says."

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Medium: Success] - That's not bad.

"Wow. So conceptual."

"And what's that -- this 'interactive call-in radio game'?"

EAST-INSULINDIAN REPEATER STATION - "I wouldn't know, I'm only here for passwords."

"And what's that -- this 'interactive call-in radio game'?"

EAST-INSULINDIAN REPEATER STATION - The static drowns her response. "Any other questions?" you hear her ask when the connection finally improves.

3. "What are you, a *machine*? Or are you *alive*?"

EAST-INSULINDIAN REPEATER STATION - "Yes, I am alive. I am 74 years old and my name is Yvonne."

KIM KITSURAGI - The lieutenant whispers into your ear: "She repeats passwords. Programming people are all... paranoid."

"Yvonne, my partner here tells me that you're here because radiocomputer guys are all paranoid."

"Okay, but where are you? How did you know where I am?"

We are trying to break into their computer, to be fair.

EAST-INSULINDIAN REPEATER STATION - "They're merely cautious," says the old lady. "It's my job to protect their filaments as a password repeater at the East-Insulindian Station."

SHIVERS [Medium: Success] - On an island on the River Esperance, a small woman, all skin and bones, sits in a room filled with audio equipment. Thousands of tiny lights are reflected back from her prescription lenses, like stars in the dark.

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - Doesn't it get lonely, sitting there all by herself?

"Doesn't it get lonely, doing this job?"

Let it go.

EAST-INSULINDIAN REPEATER STATION - "Lonely?" For the first time you hear her chuckle through the rustle of static. "Why would it get lonely, I get to talk all day to people like you over a warm cup of tea."

EMPATHY - That's why she does this.

EAST-INSULINDIAN REPEATER STATION - "Now please tell me if there's anything else I can do for you, Fortress Accident."

4. "Thanks, but I'm finished with this call." (Press OFF/SILENT.)

EAST-INSULINDIAN REPEATER STATION - "Good bye, Fortress Accident," she says as her voice disappears into a whirl of static.

MAINFRAME - The machine's keyboard is still illuminated, revealing virescent PLAY and PRINT buttons.

4. [Leave.]

We'll need to find the password if we want to make any progress here. Let's keep exploring the church.

The bowl is filled with water. A live wire runs directly into it.

Could these wires work as contact microphones?

As we approach this part of the church a... sound? Begins to overtake the music. Something like... rushing wind, or static?

PERCEPTION (HEARING) - The silence in this part of the church -- it's almost palpable. All the shifting matter and shuffling of living things is gone. Nothing seems to exist beyond the church anymore.

Maybe if you were to stand in just the right spot, even your footsteps would be completely silent...

Wait, I think I still hear something...

🎵 None.

LOGIC [Medium: Success] - It seems that sound here is detached from its source somehow, if not blotted out outright. Truly unusual.

PERCEPTION (HEARING) - You can hardly hear your own breathing.

Yell as loud as you can.

Stomp your feet and clap your hands.

PERCEPTION (HEARING) - Your voice is barely audible -- not a howl, but the softest of whimpers.

HALF LIGHT [Medium: Success] - It's unnerving.

2. Stomp your feet and clap your hands.

PERCEPTION (HEARING) - You produce a few muffled thumps, after which the silence feels even more... *total* somehow.

3. (Turn to Kim.) "What's happening?"

KIM KITSURAGI - The lieutenant points to his ears and shakes his head. Then he leans closer.

"Can you hear anything?"

"Almost nothing, and it's beginning to worry me."

"Not really, but it's extraordinary. I've never experienced anything like this."

"Can't hear shit."

KIM KITSURAGI - "The church just has... strange acoustics -- some engineering trick."

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - His detached tone conceals how uncomfortable he is.

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Medium: Success] - Maybe the church was designed in this way to prevent boisterous activity -- singing and dancing -- on its premises?

Level up!

#disco elysium #kim kitsuragi #harrier du bois #yvonne