#💜: you drive me wild
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I might be insane for this but fuck it, Ace Ventura fit today 💖💖💖💖💖💖 (more pics o' me under the cut cuz this outfit fucks)
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has anyone asked you for your hcs before? like what do you think rafe’s kinks are, positions, or things he likes doing with (to) you the most
no one has ever asked me this! but i will put my opinions out there 💜 (i’ve never done headcanons so bare with me)
layout inspired by my angel baby: @rafesmuse
RAFE HEADCANONS 18+ ONLY! MDNI!
HIS KINKS.
Daddy/Sir Kink (he loves being called daddy or sir, it drives him wild)
Breeding Kink (he’s obsessed with the idea of making you swollen with his babies)
Size Kink (he loves when his girl is much shorter than him)
Crying (something about you crying while he’s fucking you or sexually touching you in any way is so hot to him)
Choking (he loves wrapping his large hands around your small throat)
Slapping (he loves seeing his handprint on your pretty face, ass, tits and thighs)
all around Rafe is a dom. he’s never submissive, he loves his women submissive though. he loves knowing that he can make you feel as good as he does, and it brings him immense pleasure seeing you submit to him.
HIS FAVORITE POSITIONS.
Doggy (he loves doggy so fucking much, your face pressed into the bed, ass up in the air giving him a perfect view of his cock sliding in and out of you? yeah, his fucking favorite)
Cowgirl (he loves when you ride him. the sight of his perfect girl sitting on his cock, tits bouncing up and down is just it for him)
Mating Press (this position is just great to him because he has your legs folded up into your chest, his legs underneath his body as he leans over you, brutally rearranging your insides and he can look into your eyes while doing so, watching exactly how wild he drives you)
WHAT HE LIKES DOING TO/WITH YOU.
Rafe loves fucking you with toys, it’s the only other thing he’ll allow inside your body besides his fingers, tongue or cock.
Rafe loves edging you. He loves bringing you so close to your release that you’re crying, body shaking and hearing how sweetly you beg him to let you cum, but he won’t, not until he’s ready to.
Rafe loves overstimulating you as much as he loves edging you too. He loves hearing you beg him to stop, begging him to give you a break because your pussy is so swollen and sensitive, but he won’t stop, not until he’s gotten his complete fill of you. And he’s insatiable, so he could go for hours.
— these are all my opinions on the matter, i understand not everyone will feel the way i do, but this is just my mindset of what his favorite things are and how he is.
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Just Take It | Part Three | Jungkook's Point of View
Summary: Jungkook is losing his grip and con't seem to get you out of his head, little does he know he's all you've been able to think about too.
Pairing: Inexperienced f!reader x Best Friend's Dad Jungkook (20 year age gap)
Word Count: 3.5k~ (Damn this was supposed to be a short one lmao) Read Part 3 from oc's pov first!
Warnings: Smuuuuttt, Explicit Language and a crap ton of pet names (Mirror of the dialogue from part 3)
a/n: So I got this request and I figured it would be fun to write an alternate chapter in Jungkook's pov so send in asks if you would like to see more of these hehe
Drabble requested by an anon 💜
After coming home from the gym I take my time getting into the shower, making sure I have something planned for dinner when she comes home.
"Shit" I mumble, all these fucking hormones have been driving me wild these days. What am I a teenager? Just the thought of her at this point drives me mad. The fact that she comes home to me night after night and fills my whole house with her scent.
I don't know how I've managed to hold myself back for this long. After checking things out down here I go upstairs and start the shower and let it run for a while, waiting for it to warm up.
Taking a good look in the mirror I take note of my dilated pupils. I close my eyes and take deep breaths, trying to ground myself but nothing seems to be working. If anything it's getting worse.
I clench my jaw as I feel myself start to get hard just by the thought of her tired little body coming home after a long day at work, so ready to rest and relax with me for the night.
Fuck I wish I could do something to help the both of us relax.
She was always a shy girl around me, so innocent and kind and beautiful and "Fuck" I curse at the feeling of my dick rubbing my against my boxers and I know I'm done for. Looking down I see the obvious tent that's slowly growing under my sweats and I know I'm gonna need to take care of it.
Stripping out of my clothes I walk into the shower and let the water run down my back, my hand pressed up against the wall as I look down at my dick that's begging to be touched.
'I really shouldn't be doing this. I shouldn't be thinking about her like this, but I can't control myself. I wrap my hand around it, pumping it back and forth at a lazy pace, coaxing myself to get harder.
"Shit" I groan as I run my thumb over the head, collecting the pre cum that's already started to leak out. I take my time playing with just the tip, teasing myself and making my hips stutter from the need of more friction.
"Y/n" I call out quietly, loving how her name tastes on my tongue while I'm doing something so forbidden. I rub my pre cum up and down my shaft, making obscene noises that make me close my eyes, helping me imagine that it's her that here doing this to me.
Bucking my hips into my fist I rest my forehead against the wall, steadying myself and letting my hips thrust as hard as they want, chasing that delicious high I'm begging to chase. "Fuck yes Bunny just like that. Shit y/n, fuck" I groan, lost in the moment and not giving a fuck if anyone were to hear me.
She won't be home until later so fuck it.
Squeezing harder leaves me grunting and my hips falter, my fist now running up and down my cock, giving me so my pleasure it's almost too much. I let out a breathy moan, thinking about the image of her on her knees, with those innocent doe eyes playing with me and leaning how to please me.
"Fuck, wish I could have you in here y/n. My pretty little Bunny" I let out, a little louder than I would've like but who gives a fuck. All I care about is fantasizing about my naïve little girl asking to suck me off, eyes watering but begging me to teach her so she can make me feel good.
"Darling want you so so bad. Come choke on this cock, there you go, just like that Bun" I say, a trail of curses following as I feel myself getting closer to the edge. Her, hair, her eyes, her smile, those lips, those gorgeous lips that taunted me with pleas for me to take it. Take her and be her first.
"Shit" I curse, my hand having a mind of it's own as it picks up the pace, bringing me higher and higher until I tip over. Her name attached to a string of curses, dying to be able to praise her for how good she is to me. How good she would be for me.
Turning the shower water to cold I quickly wash my hair and body and try to erase the memory of what I just did. I know that I don't have the time to do it again and from the way I fucking came so hard I don't think I would be able to live it down if I let that happen again just from the memory of her alone.
Getting out of the shower and checking the time I'm grateful to see that I don't have to worry about having been too loud since there's still an hour or so before she's due back.
Even if she did hear me I wouldn't give a fuck. I know she knows that I'm attracted to her and oh what a conversation starter that would be....
~~~~~
Things were weird when she came home and dinner was even weirder. As I watch her head upstairs after saying goodnight I go over our various conversations today.
When she came home she didn't have her bags with her like she always does. She brings her purse and her laptop bag in every single day so the sight of her walking in without them could only mean one thing.
She definitely heard me in the shower today. Fuck, I know I said that I wouldn't care if she heard me but now after seeing the way she was acting tonight I can't help but wonder if I messed up.
She's a fucking virgin and she walks in today, exhausted from work and the first thing she hears is a grown man moaning and fantasizing about her in the shower.
I should've been more careful. Fuck I shouldn't have done it at all.
After going round and round and cursing at myself for scaring her off I decide it's time to head to bed. There's no use staying up if I'm just gonna stress out about how I fucked up. Not like I can go back and change things now.
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Tossing and turning is added to the act of scolding myself, the act of having gone to bed not making things any better like I had thought. In fact it's made things worse.
Fuck if I had no sense of self respect I would do it all over again but I can't. I need to make things right by her. I need to apologize.
Against my best efforts I'm not able to drift of to sleep in the slightest so I decide to get a glass of water downstairs and take a breather to hopefully aide in making these doubts find their way out but right when I open my door I hear noises coming from her room.
I slowly walk towards it, thinking that she might've left the TV on or something I stop in my tracks, the roles definitely having been reversed now as I hear her breathy moans, unlike me trying her best to stay quiet.
I wish she would get louder. I wish I could have her screaming and moaning my name so loud that even the neighbors can hear it.
"Jungkook please" are the words I had only dreamed of hearing from her, her melodic voice dripping with need and I can tell she's so desperate to cum. She sounds adorable, but I bet she'll start to get frustrated soon. Upset that her fingers are too small to do the job.
"Fuck!" I hear fall from her lips, making me want to fall to my knees.
I never knew she would have such a dirty mouth. I fucking wish I could watch her as she comes undone and as her whines get louder I decide to place my hand on the door knob and twist it open. One little peek won't do any harm.
With the way I'm planning on fighting for her she'll be showing me a lot more than just a small glance like this soon enough.
"Jungkook please" she begs again as I crack the door open. 'Fuck it I can't handle this' I think to myself and take in sight the sight in front of me. Her silhouette alone making me dizzy. The way she pinches her erect nipples and whines as she no doubt plays with her clit making me want to worship the ground she walks on.
"Please what Bunny?" I chance, watching the guilt of me catching her, no doubt scaring her beyond belief but I press on nonetheless. "M-mr. Jeon?" she stutters, the scare making her go back to using formalities again.
She's so fucking pretty.
"Come on Darling, you know better than that. Now what were you saying? Jungkook please? Please what Bun?" I say, slowly walking towards her, going around the bed to sit on the side closest to her and she pulls the sheet up to cover herself, scared and unsure of what to do.
"What would you like me to do for you baby?" I say when I finally sit down, the bed dipping under my weight and watching as she scoots over, not to get away from me but to make room which pleases me greatly.
"Look at how cute you are. Confident enough to moan my name while I'm sleeping just a few doors down but now that you've been caught you can't even say a word. But you sounded so pretty Darling. Can you say it again for me?" I taunt, chancing a kiss under her ear and when I feel all of her muscles relax at my touch I know I've got her.
"Come on Bunny, I know you know how to use your words" I whisper, my mouth practically on her ear garnering a shiver from her in response.
"P-please Jungkook" she chokes out, almost as if she was scared of the sound of her own voice. "Please what Darling?" I say, ghosting my lips all along her neck, breathing in that intoxicating scent I know so well but drowning in the intensity of it coming directly from the source.
The things I would do to ruin her right here, right now. But I need to be patient, need to bide my time and work for her. We might be rushing things now but neither of us can stand another moment of this game we've been playing.
"Please let me cum" she whines and I could climax alone from the look she's giving me. Her pink cheeks and the way her eyes are glossing over, seconds from shedding those beautiful crystal tears has me so mesmerized by her.
"Would you like me to help you cum Princess?" I say, pushing a stray strand of hair off her face but I notice that her tears have started to fall more freely and I get worried that I've misread this situation.
"We don't have to do this if you don't want to. I can walk right out of here and we can pretend that nothing ever happened" I say, reassuring her that this is all up to her. I'm here to take care of her, only if she'll let me.
"Please help me cum" she pleads, another tear falling on her cheek. If the words that just fell from her lips weren't as dirty as they were I would've wanted to hold her and tell her everything's gonna be okay. Instead I catch that glimmering tear that's fallen and caress her cheek, gauging her reactions before doing anything else.
"Lay down for me yeah?" I say, kissing her forehead and guiding her back down, wanting her to be as comfortable as possible. 'Fuck she's gorgeous' I say to myself as I study everything there is about her.
"Can I kiss you Bunny?" I ask her and she nods her head almost instantly, her enthusiasm beyond endearing to me. I lean down but stop just shy of her lips, reminding her what she needs to do for me to continue.
"Use your words Darling" I whisper, my lips just a breath away and when she tells me 'Yes' I can just feel the desperation hidden behind those words and I can't help but smile before kissing her, this time softly, as though if I were to do much more that she would break in my arms.
I fill it with longing, showing her how much I want this, want her.
Not long after I started kissing her does she start to squirm around, begging for more and I detach our lips, laughing against hers before kissing her again, taking away her chance to answer right away.
"Can I take this off?" I question, toying with the thin piece of fabric that's keeping me from her, already being able to see her hard nipples rubbing against the sheet. She nods and I get up just enough to pull it off completely, drinking in the sight of her laying bare for me.
As I take my time studying ever line and curve of her, committing it all the memory my eyes are brought to the sight of her pressing her thighs together and I can tell she's been aching to be touched like this for so long.
"You want me to touch you?" I ask, ghosting my fingers along her skin that's warm to the touch and I feel her shiver from the chill I no doubt caused her. She chokes out a 'Please' holding herself back from making too much noise and I can't help but smile at her efforts. I'm sure she knows though that that's the exact opposite of what I want from her but I let her be this time.
"Open your legs for me Princess" I say, gently guiding them apart with one hand while the other dances along her stomach, falling in love with her reaction from simple touches like this.
"Were you just using your fingers baby?" I ask, tracing along her torso and touching every inch of skin I dare to travel just yet. She nods and I can see how her chest is rising, breathing picking up no doubt from excitement and it takes everything in me to stifle back a smirk.
"Want me to use mine?" I tempt and she nods enthusiastically but I take my time. Tracing patterns on her inner thighs, I watch as she squirms until finally I run a finger through her damp folds, restraining myself from moaning at the feeling. She takes in a sharp breath at the sensation of my cold fingers playing with her and I smile at the reaction.
"Baby was all wet just thinking about me huh?" I taunt and she nods her head, being so honest with me, her eyes closed and getting lost in the feeling, a little shy though about admitting it.
"Can I ask you a question Darling?" I ask needing to know the answer, no matter how embarrassed she might be. She stutters out a 'Yes' when I start to circle my finger around her clit and I know I won't be able to get her voice out of my head.
"Did you hear me earlier today when I was in the shower?" I ask and her whole body stiffens for a second, her doe eyes wide with fright again and I let out a dry chuckle, getting all the information I need from that alone.
"I noticed that you didn't bring your bags in from your car like you normally do and when I was walking out of my room I saw that your door was open and your bags were already inside. Meaning that you were probably in the house before I first saw you. Isn't that right Princess?" I continue and when I push my fingers inside her her back arches and he moans out another 'Yes' lost in the feeling of being touched like this.
"Fuck, yes!" she moans out, louder than she has before and I know I've hit it just right. "You like that? You like it when I touch you like that?" I growl out. I can't stop myself, I need more of her so I quench my thirst by biting down on her collarbone, kissing and licking the skin making her arch up into me even more.
Trailing kisses down her chest I stop for a second, taking in the sight of her breast right in front of me and I glance up at her, asking for permission. "Yes Jungkook please" she groans and I push my fingers in further, dragging hard against her walls as I take one of her nipples into my mouth. Wanting to hear more from her and knowing just how to get it.
Her moans fall more freely and I can't helps but increase the pressure. "You make such pretty noises Darling" I praise, the sound of her voice a beautiful sinful melody. Switching over to the other nipple after I take my time savoring the first one, licking it one more time, smiling at the sight of leaving it puffy and wet, evidence of how much I've been dying to taste her.
I do the same with the other one as she clenches around my fingers, making me take note of another thing she likes.
"Does baby like getting praised? Do you like it when I tell you how pretty you look while you're under me?" I taunt and receive another clench in return, solidifying what I already knew and I can tell by the way her walls start to flutter around my fingers that she's already close.
She moans and mewls and babbles out the pretties sounds none of them making any more sense than the other. All I can focus on is the way she says my name over and over in the midst of the confusion and I can't wait for the day I have her screaming my name.
I watch as she loses herself, not even realizing that she's started to fuck herself on my fingers, riding them all on her own. I can't wait for her to ride me, fuck I know she would be so good at it.
As her face contorts in pleasure she begs to cum I can't help but smile, trying to figure out how the fuck I got so lucky.
"That's it Bunny, just like that" I praise, guiding her through it all and making sure she tips over that edge, writhing and moaning beneath me and as she's just about to cum undone she grabs the back of my neck and smashes her lips against mine, making me swallow her adorable little whines and and screams of pleasure.
Baby was so nervous of how loud she would be that she just decided to make me swallow all her cries. Next time though she won't be getting away with that. She'll be screaming and begging for me to make her cum and I'll watch her, watch her fall apart knowing I'm the only one that's given her this much pleasure.
I continue fucking my fingers inside of her over and over again helping her ride out her high and only stop once her cries of overstimulation start to fall from her lips.
"You did so well Princess" I say, brushing the tears off her cheek, enjoying the glazed over look in her eye. "You did so good for me" I praise again and take note of the freshly fucked state she's in as she hums happily, slowly drifting off to sleep.
I chuckle at the sight of her and stand up to get a warm damp towel to clean her up. Watching over her as she lets out cute little whimpers at the feeling.
I throw the towel in the laundry basket and leave to go open the door to the guest bedroom down the hall and turn down the blankets so I can place her right under them as soon as she hits the mattress.
I head back into her room and gently scoop her up in my arms, smiling as she cuddles into me even in her unconscious state before placing her down moments later on the cool clean sheets.
I watch as she moves around, turning on her side and snuggling into the blanket to get comfortable and my heart melts at the scene. "Goodnight Bunny" I say to her softly, placing a kiss on her forehead and leaving the room, closing the door silently behind me.
I look down at the state I'm in and take note of the full tent I have in my sweats and curse at the sight of it. I head back into my room and close the door behind me, stripping out of my clothes, knowing that I need to take a shower again.
This time cold. Very cold.
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☆ Astro Observations Pt 2 ☆
**NOTE: This blog contains Mature Content.
💜 Scorpio Suns can "fake" smile A LOT - especially the women. They'll have big ass Cheshire Cat grins on their faces when trying to convince others that they care when they DO NOT. Shit looks mad weird! 🤣 Scorpionic Energy is meant to be dark, enticing & magnetic. So just embrace it!
💜 Scorpio Venus Women can be reserved Nuns or wild Wh0res! Lol. They can go hard in either direction. Either way though, they *hate* to be objectified and crave connection. Scorpio Venus Men are simply seductive AF. 🔥 Like dayummm! They're usually a highly sexual yet very choosy bunch. They can go years (by choice) without sex like a Monk. Many will "hold back" and repress their craving for an all-consuming love. Then suddenly FLOOD with emotions (and semen lol) for that special somebody - ready to devour your pu$$y & envelop your soul! 😎 These men are possessive & not for the faint of heart.
💜 Individuals with Mars in the 3rd House are MAJOR Sapiosexuals. Deep conversations turn them on!! Intellect gives these women many tingles and usually arouses *both* heads on the men. 🔥 3rd House rules short-distance travel... so these people may enjoy car sex, sex outdoors or sex while on a weekend getaway. Also, the women can correlate how a man drives/parks with how he fucks. 🤣 And you know what? It actually makes sense! A man who sucks at parking is probably a shitty lay. Lol. A man who handles large trucks with ease will probably dominate you.
*fans self*
💜 Libra Risings often look like walking works of ART from the Romantic Era. 💕 Paint these pretty bitches in ALL of their Venusian glory! Just sit them next to an elegant fireplace wearing *nothing* but a silk robe and a smile for Titanic vibesss. Often, the Men look like Sculpted Gods (like The Rock & Idris Elba) or Pretty Boys - like Leo DiCaprio & Harry Styles. And the Women are typically very lovely & voluptuous - like Beyonce, Doja Cat & Kate Winslet. Even when Libra Risings are average in appearance, they come across as pleasant & attractive to others.
💜 Men with strong Capricorn and/or Leo in their charts (especially Mars, Moon or ASC) give hella Big Dick Energy. 💪💪 Take me from the back, Zaddy! And they often make for being the best Providers for their families. *King Aura*
💜 Women with strong Taurus and/or Scorpio in their charts give Big Clit Energy. 🔥 Women with heavy Leo or Capricorn definitely possess Queen Energy. 🥂 Ladies with strong Aries give BOTH! The Queens w/ the Juicy Clit. ♈
💜 Aries Suns are indeed the PIONEERS of the Zodiac in every sense of the word. They blaze trails everywhere they go. 🔥🔥 Aretha Franklin was The Queen Of Soul; Marlon Brando & Bette Davis were the King & Queen of Old Hollywood; Celine Dion & Mariah Carey created the female Vocal Trinity that dominated the 90's music scene; Steven Tyler taught us how to boldly "Dream On" and Marvin Gaye asked us "What's Going On?" and inspired us to think! Selena was the FIRST woman to became a megastar in Tejano Music; Loretta Lynn broke major ground for women in Country Music; Martin Lawrence made us laugh until we peed our pants; Lady GaGa is in a glorious class all by HERSELF. 💯 Van Gogh created timeless Art; Phoebe & Simone have inspired the masses to bring back real romance as the lead actresses on the smash show 'Bridgerton'; Halle Bailey is amazingly talented & is going to be the best damn ARIEL this world has ever seen. 🧜🏾♀️
You need a ground-breaker? You need courage & inspiration? You need to see the IDGAF spirit in action? Go find an Aries and they'll get the damn job DONE. ♈
That's all for now Darlings! 💕 Catch you again soon.
#aries sun#arieswoman#libra rising#scorpio venus#scorpio#leo sign#capricorn sign#capricorn women#taurus sign#astro observations#astro notes#astro tumblr#astroblr#astrology observations#3rd house#mars
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Heyya um I read Ur tokyo revengers x chubby reader nsfw headcanons and was wondering if you could do for the haitani brothers, hanma, and baji <2
TokRev x Chubby!Reader Headcanons pt.2
♡ NSFW, fem reader, reader has thick thighs, chubby tummy, love handles and is described as soft, pet names + praise, it got extra fluffy on Rindou's part ♡
Characters: Ran, Rindou, Hanma, Baji
Thank you for requesting anon 🩷
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Ran
💜 Spanks your ass with his baton because he likes the noise it makes
💜 Grips your pudgy tummy during sex, he loves how soft it feels
💜 Likes to hold your thighs back while he fucks you, something about gripping your soft flesh drives him wild
💜 Likes to watch you touch yourself for him (mutual masturbation would be common with him)
"That's it princess, keep playing with that pretty pussy for me ♡"
Rindou
🩵 Canonically an amazing boyfriend, he'd definitely worship your body
🤍 Buys you dresses that hug your curves and goes feral when he sees you wearing them
🩵 Kisses you all over and pays extra attention to the places you're self conscious about
🤍 Kisses your tummy while he fingers and edges you, would drown in your pussy if he could
🩵 Possessive of you and loves calling you his
"You looked so beautiful tonight baby, all for me right?"
Hanma
🏵️ Begs you to get sin and punishment tattooed on your thighs (if you do he'll be twice as obsessed with them)
🏵️ Spanks you on your thighs (hard) when you're bad
🏵️ Always gets hard when you sit in his lap, your thighs are just too soft for him to handle
🏵️ Ends up edging himself just so you two can cum together
"You feel so good darling, so hard not to cum in your pretty little pussy right now ♡"
Baji
🪷 Has a biting kink (have you seen this man's fangs!)
🪷 Bites you on your thighs and tummy when he eats you out
🪷 If you sit on his face he'll probably bite you on the ass
🪷 Bites your neck while he fucks you and apologizes for it while he's cumming inside you
"Sorry cutiepie, you know I don't mean to bite you hard. Pussy just feels so good~"
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Tagging @arlerts-angel and @i-literally-cant-with-this
#tokyo revengers#tokyo revengers headcanons#tokyo revengers smut#ran haitani#rindou haitani#hanma shuji#baji keisuke#character x reader#chubby reader
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I am still having so many feelings about the final season of YR and I have been feeling like I don’t have anywhere to put them. It’s like the warm smolder of my obsession has sparked into a wild fire and now it’s too hot to stand near, but I cannot get it under control. I feel so much love, appreciation and pride for this queer love story and the truly magical way it has been told. However, I also feel so much heartbreak and loss both for the suffering in this season and that the show has come to a close. I feel consumed and a little bit embarrassed, but when it really comes down to it, the thing I am struggling with the most is the loneliness/isolation in my real life. It hasn’t really bothered me before that nobody in my life is obsessed with this show (which is still odd to me considering I live in a very queer community, so you would think I could find at lease one person irl) and I just want to be IN IT with someone who gets it. I feel like I have a pinball mess of feelings inside of me and everyone is just walking around living life like nothing has happened, but something DID happen!
These thoughts have me thinking about grief- grief is not always associated with death or separation- grief is associated with loss. And if I keep going with these thoughts on grief/loss- everyone’s loss experience is different and personal, but one thing that is a common thread when going through loss, is we need people to see it, “witness it” and be able to hold it. This is why we (therapists) so often suggest support groups for people experiencing grief (different than therapy/treatment groups). In support groups there is space for healing because there is witnessing and story telling and shared experience with people who understand. There is also safety and trust when you are with others who will not diminish your experience and who will not try to fix it. One of the other things that is helpful in support groups is all the different perspectives and being able to see people at different points along their journey. You can also see and share in all the different ways people cope and move through- some write, some lean into music, some exercise, some talk, some listen, some take drives, some use humor, some give hugs and some people take a lot of hot showers- but overall it’s community and human connection and those things give us sense of belonging.
This long ramble leads me to here, on tumblr, this fandom feels like my support group. I’m grateful. It’s the place I dont feel embarrassed, my experience doesn’t feel diminished and it makes me feel like other people “get it”. It’s kinda feels like the Young Royals office is holding support groups in conference room #2.. And have you seen the coping skills (TALENT) in here!
This may be only going out into the void, but if it lands for just one other person, then my point has been made.
Sending y’all a gentle hug 💜
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Hunting The Hunter (Chapter 2)
F!Reader x William Afton, explicit themes, bad language, eventual smut, reader is in her mid to late twenties
Ao3 link
Chapter 1
Heyyyy! I changed text formatting a bit in this one, cause it felt like the dialogues weren't easy to read. I really hope you'll like this chapter!
🔪💜🔪💜🔪💜🔪💜🔪💜🔪💜🔪💜🔪💜🔪💜
Steve stopped for a moment, stunned. He glanced down and let out a chuckle.
“Well-well, what an impression I’m giving. Do you really think that of me?” He said endearingly, almost with condescension, as if you were a child asking if the moon was made of cheese. Do you? You honestly couldn’t be sure about anything, there was nothing but a wild guess, and his response made you even more confused about your own judgment. What if you were wrong about him all along? Every reply that never answered anything accumulated rage burning within your chest more and more, and feeling manipulated in the process definitely didn’t help.
“You can never be too sure.”
“I see. You still have an option to refuse my request.” The seriousness in your tone made Steve temper his enthusiasm.
“I accept it.” This is the first thing you were certain about in a long time.
“What if I’m a cold-hearted ruthless killer?” He was still annoyed at the fact you won’t play by his rules.
“Too bad for you.” You answered, knowing damn well you won’t give it up that easy.
An hour later, you’ve been preparing for the event in the comfort of your home. But even the coziest room at your parent’s house would not wash off the ice-cold feeling of Steve’s look frozen on your skin. It felt like he was still sitting in the office miles away, his piercing gaze seeping through hundreds of walls of the neighborhood to reach you anywhere. “And be extremely careful with the animatronics...” His raspy voice kept reverberating in your mind, and you weren’t sure if you’d simply wanted to remember the address and instructions correctly or it was something different entirely. Something otherworldly intense deep within you letting out a wild growl. “Damn… I could really use a sandwich right now.” You headed towards the kitchen.
After a while you were ready for the sortie, dressed all grandpa at a family gathering: cargo pants, military boots, and a big sweater to conceal a crowbar conveniently strapped to your back. You also packed a sports bag of tools you could find in your house, in case you’d have to get out or notice something of interest. There was nothing much, and you really wished you’d had a service weapon on you. Warming up, you tried to remember everything they taught you at the training. “Well, someone might get hurt today, if he doesn’t behave.” You said jokingly in an effort to ground yourself, because, frankly, you had no idea what to expect once you got to the place, and there was no reinforcement to call for help. You went outside and opened your ford’s door, throwing the bag on the passenger seat. This was gonna be a long ride.
You drove in silence, cool autumn wind flowing in through an open window, blowing hair over your face. You were anxiously twisting a small key with a shabby sticker of some fox mascot in your hand. Driving up to the restaurant, you saw someone else’s sedan standing in a parking lot. You parked and got out of the car. There was no one in the vehicle, but approaching it, you noticed a nodding bunny toy behind the windshield. As you turned around, you saw the pizzeria itself: it was nothing special, a simple restaurant building straight from the 80s, you remember spending a lot of time in these as a child, except this one had clear signs of wear on the facade, and a huge “Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria” signage. You went straight to the side, just as Steve instructed, and… No way. He stood right there, leaning against the wall next to the back entrance. He looked you up and down as you approached, analyzing your outfit.
“Wow, all ready for the return of the living dead?” The man smirked as if completely forgetting how pissed he was at you two hours ago.
“Well, I don’t know about the zombies, but a nice living dad I think I can manage.”
Steve laughed, “Didn’t know you were that funny.”
You put the bag on the ground, “Didn’t know you liked bunnies.”
“Oh, I do,” He smiled, “And yes, I figured I shouldn’t be leaving you all alone, since you haven’t even been here.”
“Not afraid of burglars anymore?”
He chuckled at your teasing comment. “I never was. Sometimes you just have to leave the work to the professionals. Shall we?” He gestured at the door and took out a set of keys with a rabbit’s foot on it. You suddenly remembered seeing it on his desk in the office, but you didn’t notice it at the time. Yeah, this man definitely has a thing about these little creatures.
You patiently waited as Steve opened the shutters and unlocked the back door. Rolled up sleeves revealed toned slightly tanned arms of a working man, with muscles tensing and relaxing under the skin in a mesmerizing dance. Where did these even come from? The desk jockey has to be extremely responsible when it comes to the yard work. He let you in first and you hesitated for a moment, wondering if he’ll just lock you up in there, but he walked in right after you, closing the door.
“You could’ve just dealt with this yourself, couldn’t you?” You were walking down the gray hall, steps echoing off the wall. Steve said they kept it clean, but no amount of cleaning products could ever get rid of the weird smell of… oldness? Stale air filled your lungs with each breath you took.
“Of course I couldn’t. A pair of trained eyes would always work better in a situation like this.” He adjusted his glasses. “May I ask why you decided to give up on your career?”
“Well, let’s say it didn’t work out.” You sighed. “I guess I felt weird thinking about what was going on inside criminals’ heads all the time. It’s not that I wasn’t doing my job properly because of it, it’s that these obsessive thoughts tired me out. I even got to interrogate some of the guys but what they said was never enough for me. I had to know their exact thought process, why were they capable of doing what they did and… Never found an answer.”
“Huh, that is rather interesting to know. We're kind of similar in this respect.” Your heart skipped a beat as you heard him say it. “I like watching crime investigation documentaries for this specific reason. They usually try to dig deeper into the psychological aspect, gives you a better understanding. It’s… exciting.”
You glanced at him skeptically, but Steve suddenly stopped and looked you in the eyes with such kindness, taking you aback. You almost passed out seeing his smile, wondering how good your poker face actually was. Was he aware of the effect he had on you? But he only raised his hand to point to something at the back. You turned around to realize you were now both standing in a dining area with a performance stage on the right side. Worn out checkered tiles, dark walls and empty tables looked quite eerie, lit by a gloomy light of a couple neon signs. You reached into your pocket for a flashlight and pointed it at the stage. Turning it on, you almost jumped: three life-sized animatronics stood there, staring right back.
“Stars of the show: Freddy, Bonnie and Chica.” Steve put hands on his hips, standing there like a proud parent. “There’s also Foxy, a shy one, hiding right behind that curtain.” You listened to him silently, still processing the sudden encounter. You almost thought his smile was about you. Yeah, right. The man was definitely far too enthusiastic for someone who had nothing to do with this place. “Look, there’s a mark right there. On the floor.”
You shone the light in that direction, there was a scratch on the tiles in the corner. You came up there and saw that it certainly was not recent, filled with dust and dirt from all the years, it was as old as the building itself. “It’s nothing, Steve, it’s just…” You stopped there, noticing something far more intriguing. A trash can nearby caught your attention, with a piece of newspaper sticking out of it alluringly. You went and took it out, giving the photo in the corner a quick look. It was a picture of the pizzeria in its prime. “No… No, no, no, no...”
“Five children gone missing, a dishonorable end to the well-liked Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria,” read the headline. “Co-founders detained for further questioning.”
You looked around, panically waving the flashlight in a desperate attempt to find Steve. But there was nothing but a slow creaking sound of old metal joints in response.
#steve raglan x reader#steve raglan x reader smut#william afton x reader#william afton x reader smut#william afton smut#steve raglan smut#matthew lillard smut#matthew lillard x reader#fnaf movie smut#fnaf smut
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North To The Future [Chapter 15: Drive] [Series Finale]
The year is now 2000. You are just beginning your veterinary practice in Juneau, Alaska. Aegon is a mysterious, troubled newcomer to town. You kind of hate him. You are also kind of obsessed with him. Falling for him might legitimately ruin your life…but can you help it? Oh, and there’s a serial killer on the loose known only as the Ice Fisher.
Chapter warnings: Language, alcoholism, addiction, murder, violence, character deaths.
Word count: 7.3k.
Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.
Taglist: @elsolario @ladylannisterxo @doingfondue @tclegane @quartzs-posts @liathelioness @aemcndtargaryen @thelittleswanao3 @burningcoffeetimetravel @poohxlove @borikenlove @myspotofcraziness @travelingmypassion @graykageyama @skythighs @lauraneedstochill @darlingimafangirl @charenlie @thewew @eddies-bat-tattoos @minttea07 @joliettes @trifoliumviridi @bornbetter @flowerpotmage @thewitch-lives @tempt-ress @padfooteyes @teenagecriminalmastermind @chelsey01 @anditsmywholeheart @heliosscribbles @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @tillyt04 @cicaspair418 @fan-goddess
A/N: This is the fic I almost never wrote because I didn’t think anyone would be interested in some random, angsty, 1990s, Alaskan, crime-thriller AU. Thank you for proving me wrong. I hope you enjoy the ending. 💜
Almost everything about your existence is pure chance; it’s the most freeing and horrifying truth imaginable. There’s the genetic lottery and corporate downsizing, revolutions and hurricanes, plagues, asteroids, famines, faulty airplanes and malignant blooms of cells and drunk drivers. There are 100 billion planets in this galaxy and your atoms ended up on the one called Earth. After all that, do you really think what you want matters? So make all the choices you like, all the nail-biting deliberations and promises and vows, weigh costs and benefits, do research, roll dice, ask astrologers and palm readers, start over every New Year because that’s something we tell ourselves is possible. The fact that you exist at all is one big cosmic coin flip. If you think you’re the one driving, you’re dead fucking wrong. You’re the speck of dust on a windshield, the spin of a roulette wheel. You’re a flash of silver in the universe’s pinball machine.
I spend a lot of my time thinking about chance, okay? My family is one of the wealthiest in the Western Hemisphere, and I didn’t do anything to earn that. I was born first, and I definitely didn’t do anything to earn that, Jesus Christ, what a chromosomal fuckup. I inherited an affliction that others get to live without. I can’t imagine what it feels like to wake up and not be horrified by myself, my shortcomings, my failures: too small, too stupid, too wild, too weak. And the first time someone says something like that to you, you want to apologize, you want to drop to your knees and cling to them and beg for absolution, maybe even the first hundred times, the first thousand. And then it just starts to piss you off. Yeah, I know, I’ve heard it all before, why would you expect anything different? Isn’t this getting old, Mom? Maybe you’re the stupid one, Dad, if you think you could cut me and anything but disappointments would fall out. I’m not horrified by the fact that I’m an addict. The horror came first. The horror is what led to all the rest of it.
One day when I was in 10th Grade—I was slumped way down in my chair and drinking vodka out of an Evian water bottle—my American History teacher, purely by chance, assigned me to make a poster about Juneau, Alaska. Some other kid got Los Angeles (Hollywood! The Whisky a Go Go!) and another got Chicago (the Mob!) and another got Nashville (Johnny Cash!) and some jock moron I hated got Baltimore (um, crabs? the War of 1812…?), but I got fucking Juneau, Alaska. I thought this was so unjust that I never forgot it, the fact that I had to get up in front of the class with my pathetic Crayolas-and-magazine-cutouts poster and pretend that Juneau was a place that mattered, that microscopic cloud-covered relic of a late-1800s gold mining settlement on the shores of the Gastineau Channel. Juneau was never on my list of cities to run to. It just wasn’t. It didn’t have anything I wanted. But when I started thinking about places where I could really disappear, where no one would ever bother looking, where days are short and dark and incurious and irrelevant…well, that sounds like Juneau, right?
Let me tell you something about the night I left. I’ve been more messed up, yeah, and I’ve hurt people worse, and I’ve been closer to death, I’ve been one more powder-white gram on the scale away from oblivion; but I’ve never felt that fucking low. I can’t decide if I wish I’d never gone to Juneau at all. I can’t decide if it was a blessing or a curse.
My flight is a red-eye with a layover in Ketchikan, American Airlines, bound for Seattle. Sunfyre has the window seat. He’s wearing the bright red Service Dog vest that I once stole for him specifically for such occasions. My dog fly with the cargo? My dog?! Bill Clinton will be elected pope first. Sunfyre is chewing contently on Milk-Bones and watching the sun rise over the Pacific Ocean. He knows the drill. We’ll touchdown and deplane, and then…and then…
And then we’ll start over again somewhere new. I’ll find a flight board and pick a destination; Seattle is a hub, with spokes leading everywhere. I could go south, to Galveston, Lafayette, Biloxi, someplace where it gets hot, someplace where I can sweat her out of me, purge every cell that still remembers what she felt like. I could go west, fading into mountains or cornfields, vapid infinitesimal towns in Montana, Iowa, Idaho, Nebraska. I could go to New England or the Great Lakes or freaking Hawaii, sleep in hammocks, swim with sea turtles, drink my rum and Cokes out of coconut shells. But the more I think about it, the more I realize that nowhere really sounds good to me. My legs are suddenly tired of running. There’s an ache that rattles down to the bone.
I don’t have to tell you that I love her, right? It’s not so easy for me to say. But it’s true, and it’s beautiful, and it’s torture, and it’s a dream. It’s pain that flays you alive and then builds you back again, layers of fresh muscle and tendons and veins growing over ribs and vertebrae like a trellis thick with ivy. It’s not a high. It’s just the best life can get down here on earth. It’s the ocean, it’s the Northern Lights.
I’m swimming in a black hoodie that is three sizes too big; I haven’t slept and I’m pale and raccoon-eyed, looking like death, feeling worse. When the stewardess rolls by with her clattering cart just slim enough to fit through the aisle, I order a cup of water for Sunfyre and a double rum and Coke for myself. It arrives with two blood-red cherries bobbing in a caramel-dark carbonated sea. The guy in the next seat over gives me a judgmental little eyebrow raise.
“That doesn’t look like breakfast,” he says.
I bite off both cherries—juice dribbling down my chin, wiped away with a sleeve—and throw the stems over my shoulder. The lady sitting behind me yelps in disgust. “Because it’s dessert.”
The man smiles and shakes his head, one of those I shouldn’t find it funny but I do sort of looks. I inspire a lot of those. He’s maybe mid-thirties, long hair and ripped jeans, very punk rock, cool as hell. There is a constellation of pins on his denim jacket. One of them has a roman numeral 10 on it, a stark X nestled inside a triangle. Unity, Service, Recovery, the gold letters say. To Thine Own Self Be True. It’s an Alcoholics Anonymous pin. What are the chances?
He catches me staring, and I ask: “Does it really make you a better man?”
“It doesn’t make you better. It just makes you real.” He smiles again, patient and kind. “It makes your emotions and experiences real, your relationships real. And so you become whatever version of yourself you were always supposed to be. But you have to want it. Not your wife, not your parents or your kids, not your pastor, not your friends, not your parole officer. You.”
I speak without knowing what I’m going to say. “I want it.”
“Yes, I think you do.”
He sees a lot, I think, as the plane descends into the grey fogbank of Seattle. 20/20.
When we land, the man squeezes into a cab with me and Sunfyre—he sniffles into a Kleenex for a while before reluctantly admitting that he’s allergic to dogs—and pays the fare. The cab’s worn brakes squeal to a stop outside a residential treatment center on the banks of the Puget Sound. When we step out onto the sidewalk, I ask the man if he’s going to take me to get one last drink first. He laughs in my face. Fucking jerk.
He pulls out a black Sharpie and rummages through his pockets, his wallet. He can’t find a scrap of paper. He writes his phone number on the underside of my arm instead. “You call me, okay?” he says. “Call me when you get out. Call me before you get out, if you need to. I don’t care if it’s in five minutes, I don’t care if it’s at 2 a.m. You just make sure you call.”
“Why would you do this? I mean, you don’t even know me. You have no idea who I am.”
“Because once, years ago, someone did the same thing for me, and someone did it for her too. Maybe one day you’ll be able to pay it forward. I don’t care who you are or where you’ve been. It doesn’t matter to me. I’d like to think that we’re all more than the worst thing we’ve ever done.���
And then he waits for me to go inside. He doesn’t leave until he watches me check in at reception on the other side of the rain-flecked glass. Outside, a brand new day is beginning. A misty sun rises as pieces of the sky fall.
Sunfyre trots into the lobby alongside me, panting cheerfully, shaking the perpetual Seattle drizzle from his fur. There’s a girl at the front desk, just a girl, and that’s the other thing that’s different now. She’s not a maybe-future-one-of-my-girls. She’s just like anyone else. I already have a girl. I mean, I don’t anymore, not really. But I still do.
I throw my things onto the counter: my single suitcase, my tattered wallet, my bundle of cash held together with rubber bands, my scraped-up electric guitar.
“Checking in?” the girl asks.
“Yeah.”
“For how long?”
“As long as it takes, I guess.”
She opens my wallet, reads my license, blinks in bewilderment. “Aegon…?”
I sigh dramatically. “It’s Greek.”
~~~~~~~~~~
You dream of him; and when you do, he’s always smiling. He’s reading your palm in an empty Taco Bell, he’s kissing you under the Northern Lights, he’s regaling your parents with stories—of lobster fishing in Portland, of cattle ranching in Denver—all through Thanksgiving dinner, he’s undressing you in his moonlit apartment, he’s climbing into your bed. He’s not angry, he’s not ruined, he’s not running away. He’s exactly as you remember him in his best moments. He’s all chaotic white-blond hair and weightless light, sharp laughter and bright eyes. And each morning there’s a splinter-thin moment before you remember that he’s gone. That’s the worst part, really. You always knew it would be. You can’t even begin to forget him.
Your friends want to help you, but they don’t know how. Neither do your parents. Your dad gets an atlas from the study, throws it down on the dining room table, and opens it to a map of the world. “Pick anyplace and we’ll go there,” he says. “We’ll close the vet clinic for two weeks and we’ll all go.” But you can’t give him a single name: not Athens, or Paris, or Buenos Ares, or Cairo, or New York City, or Rome, or Tokyo, or anywhere else for that matter. It’s the strangest thing. All your life you’ve been waiting to get out of Juneau, but now nowhere sounds good to you. And maybe that’s a lesson you wish you’d never learned: sometimes freedom is less about places than it is about people.
The blood on the equipment recovered from Trent’s apartment matches DNA from the first three victims. He is charged with eight counts of first-degree murder and held awaiting trial in the Lemon Creek Correctional Center. His family visits him faithfully each week. His lawyer is exasperated that he won’t plead guilty and spare his parents the humiliation and expense of a protracted court battle. But Trent’s story never changes: he’s innocent, he’s never killed anybody, he doesn’t understand how the blood could have been found on his belongings. He wants to know exactly what items the police tested; he and his lawyer are still waiting for the prosecutor to turn over all the details during discovery. In the midst of the scandal, the upheaval, you fade into the backdrop like the stars behind fog. People talk around you and through you. They offer gaps that you don’t care enough to fill in. Drinks clink, whispers fly, conspiracies are exchanged between pool shots. You watch the days grow longer and wait for the future to arrive. You don’t know what it will look like, you can’t even begin to fathom it. But surely there must be a future. Life goes on. It did for your mom after Jesse. It will for you too.
A week after Aegon leaves, there is a knock at your parents’ front door. You open it to find Aemond standing there in the muted amber-pink afternoon light. His hair is long and loose, his Armani suit immaculately tailored, his BlackBerry nestled in his right hand. He glances up from it at you and his jaw falls open. And only then do you realize how awful you must look.
You tell Aemond, your voice hushed and heavy, ankles in quick-drying cement: “I don’t know where he is.”
“No, I can see that,” Aemond replies, dull horror in his blue eye. Then he turns around and strides halfway down the driveway towards the street, where a cab idles as it waits for him, engine exhaust pouring into the air like smoke from a firepit.
“How’s your dad?” you call after him when you get your bearings.
He pauses under the dwindling light. “Alive. For now.” And then Aemond considers you for a while. “I suppose if I ever want to find you again, I know where to look.”
You nod. “I’ll be here.”
I’ll always be here.
A month crawls by like a wounded animal, dead leaves snared in the fur of its belly. The flesh on your thigh knits back together. The things that Aegon ordered show up in Juneau, packages left on the front porch and stuffed into the moose-shaped mailbox like Christmas gifts in a stocking. You pack these remnants of him—Zoobooks and cooking accessories, knives and Chia Pets—into a cardboard box and tuck it away in a dusty, cobwebbed corner of the attic, and you’re aware the entire time that this has happened before, almost exactly twenty years ago. When your dad puts a Third Eye Blind or Red Hot Chili Peppers or Oasis album on his record player, you find some excuse to leave the room. When you tack magazine cutouts of beaches and cityscapes to your bedroom walls, all you can think about is where Aegon might be now. You wonder where he works during the day, a surf shop or a construction site or a farm or a fishing boat; you wonder who he spends his nights with.
I’ll always be here. Even if I leave, I’ll always be here.
~~~~~~~~~~
Twenty years ago to the day, almost to the hour, a man fell into the Gastineau Channel and drowned. They found water in his lungs, though the autopsy was only a formality, an afterthought; Jesse had a reputation in Juneau, and no one was particularly surprised to see how his story ended. There were abrasions on his back and shoulders, contusions on his wrists, but so what? He probably tripped half a dozen times before he tumbled over some guardrail and into the frigid black water. There was a bloody mess of an impact wound on the side of his face, but who cares? The blood alcohol concentration doesn’t lie. The man was wasted, and more than that he was a waste. If his premature demise hadn’t been then, it would have been later, in a week or a month or a year. And when someone like that goes, there’s a sigh of relief that accompanies the misery, isn’t there? There’s the sense of a weight being lifted from a scale.
You’re sitting in Ursa Minor at the usual booth, but the bar is practically empty. It’s Valentine’s Day. Joyce is with Rob, Kimmie is with Brad; Heather’s parents have spirited her away on a short vacation to Sitka to try to take their minds off Trent’s imminent lifelong incarceration. Your mom and dad’s February 14th tradition is cooking a homemade Italian dinner together—pasta, bread with herbs and olive oil, caprese salad, tiramisu—and then settling in for a romantic Blockbuster rental. This year, it’s Runaway Bride. Your mom loves Julia Roberts. They didn’t ask for privacy, but you gave it to them anyway. Kimmie offered to drop you off at Ursa Minor and then drive you home after her date with Brad so you could drink away your sorrows without having to worry about calling a ride. So now Kimmie is getting wined, dined, and plied with boxed chocolates at the Red Dog Saloon while you drain appletinis and flip through one of Jesse’s journals, not knowing what you’re looking for.
Dale is washing pint glasses in the sink behind the bar and humming cheerfully along to a Cake CD. It’s just you and him tonight; evidently, Dale doesn’t have a hot date either. It was nice of him to eschew the usual Shania Twain or Sheryl Crow soundtrack. He’s trying to spare you from any crooning love songs. He must have forgotten that Cake has its own little slice of relevance in your memories of Aegon, those memories that refuse to fade, ink in your skin as dark as night.
Your fingerprints trace Jesse’s scrawling, handwritten letters. It’s his very last journal, the last words he ever wrote. His final entry is unremarkable, a lucid recollection of his latest woodcarving project: it’s a family of tiny bears, three of them. He says he wants the cub to have the same slope of your cheeks, the shape of your eyes. And it’s just like your mom said. It really did seem like he was getting better.
You flip to the next page, blank. The heading reads: Thursday, February 14th, 1980.
You go back a few days. And your gaze catches on words that you’ve read before, months ago, back when the journals were a new discovery like striking oil. The entry is from Saturday the 9th. It ends with an unceremonious bullet point of a reminder: dinner w/ Dale on Thursday.
You leaf forward to Thursday, to the blank page that tells you nothing. Back to the 9th, forward to the 14th, again, again. Valentine’s Day 1980, before Dale had married his wife, after your mom had stopped trying to make plans with Jesse, maybe even rebelled against them; just two unromantic, discarded men with a vacant slot in their calendars and troubles to drink into submission. Except that Jesse never came home.
Dinner with Dale, you think dizzily. Dinner with Dale on the night he died.
The opening notes of The Distance shout from the stereo. Everything suddenly feels very loud.
Reluctantly crouched at the starting line,
Engines pumping and thumping in time…
What had Aegon said about that song before you sang it together, stomping and staggering across the hardwood floor? It’s not about NASCAR, it’s about a journey!
Outside, it’s a rare clear night in Juneau. The Northern Lights are a kaleidoscopic ribbon against indigo night, the sky a mausoleum of stars. And you remember when Aegon sang Everlong, when he grabbed your hand, led you upstairs to the roof, kissed you for the first time under the ethereal, shimmering curtain of green and purple and blue…before Heather had interrupted to tell you that Dale was closing the bar. He was irritable, he was tired; he wanted to go home.
The arena is empty except for one man,
Still driving and striving as fast as he can…
And then they found a body, didn’t they? Yes, you can remember being in Aegon’s apartment and hearing the police cars zoom by. You remember the red-and-blue flashes on his face. You remember thinking they looked like sapphires and rubies, the ocean and blood.
The sun has gone down and the moon has come up
And long ago somebody left with the cup,
But he’s driving and striving and hugging the turns
And thinking of someone for whom he still burns…
Icy claws glide down the length of your spine. Memories play back with a focused clarity that you didn’t have before: Dale groggy and yawning just before they found the fifth victim at Christmas, and again before they found the eighth the same night Trent dragged you—shrieking, bleeding, virtually naked—out of your Jeep. You remember Dale at your parents’ New Year’s Eve party talking about how maybe the killer was an athlete with brain damage from CTE. You remember him offering to give Trent a box of his old equipment from when he was a park ranger. You remember him watching as Trent towered over you here in Ursa Minor with a cue stick clenched in his fist, demanding to know where you had been the night before, Dale’s eyes gleaming with disapproval and fascination and…and…oh god, opportunity.
He’s going the distance,
He’s going for speed,
She’s all alone (all alone)
All alone in her time of need…
And now Aegon’s long gone, but you’re still here. And so is the Ice Fisher.
You’re staring at Dale, eyes huge and glossy with terror. He glances up, gives you a brief casual smile, looks down at the pint glasses again. And then his eyes come back to you. He sees you and you see him, really see him, and it’s the first time in your life that you can recall him being a centerpiece instead of an ornament for gazes to skate over like ice, wallpaper or taxidermy deer heads or a mirror. And you watch as the thing that lives inside Dale stirs awake. It is a shadow with fangs, talons, barbs down its spine, a weblike scribble of a brain loud with the echoes of screams; and it unfurls and fills him completely, all the way to his fingerprints. It possesses him, it eclipses him.
It’s Dale, you realize like a bullet slicing through an aorta, spilling an ocean of hot blood. It was him twenty years ago and it’s him now.
You gasp and fumble for the cannister of bear mace still clipped to your purse. Dale crosses the room with staggering swiftness, like a wolf, like a storm, one pint glass still gripped in his hand. He reaches you just as your thumb presses down on the cannister’s release tab. The rust-colored mist spews not directly into his face but into the room; Dale is hacking and rasping, you both are, but he isn’t in too much pain to haul you out of the booth and onto the floor. You’re screaming, you’re clawing at him, your eyes feel like they’re on fire, tiny pinpoint infernos that drill down to the bone. You can feel the ice-cold juice and schnapps and vodka of your appletini, knocked off the table when you fell, soaking through the back of your sweater. You can feel pebbles of glass as they burrow into your flesh. You are dimly aware of a barstool tumbling over as you struggle with Dale.
“No!” you cry into the monstrous hand that he clamps over your mouth. “No—!”
Dale brings the bottom of the pint glass down on your head. The Distance lyrics—she’s hoping in time that her memories will fade—swirl around inside your fractured skull.
Silence descends like a curtain, shadows in, lights out.
~~~~~~~~~~
I knock, and he opens the door. The house smells like fresh bread and alfredo sauce, rosemary and crushed garlic. My rental—a Toyota 4Runner, I remember what she said about the Nova being a bad idea in Alaska—is parked in the driveway behind her Jeep. Sunfyre is standing beside me, eyes sparkling, smiling with that unburdened-by-intellect innocence that dogs have. There’s a bouquet of blue-dyed roses in my left hand, cool melancholy blooms of life like seawater, like bruises.
“Hi,” I say to her dad as he stands in the doorway. “It’s good to see you again.”
“It’s good to see you too, Aegon.” He’s not just staring at me in the artificial front porch light; he’s gawking, he’s damn near speechless. “Wow. Wow. It’s really good to see you.”
Yeah, I know I look different. The dark rings around my eyes have vanished, my face is less puffy, my hair is trimmed and healthy and mostly out of my face, I stand taller. I’m wearing a white turtleneck sweater and a leather jacket, black skinny jeans, my combat boots. I have a red chip in my pocket that I can’t fucking wait to show her: 1 month sober. On the first day, you think you’re going to die, and on the second day you wish you would. But you don’t. You live, and that starts out as a grisly inconvenience, and then you get a taste for it. “You can probably guess who I’m looking for.”
“Yeah, I reckon I can,” her dad says. “But she’s not here right now. She went to Ursa Minor.”
I grin, a crooked little curl of the lips. “I think I remember how to get there.”
I hop back into the 4Runner with Sunfyre and pull out into the street, snow and ice chomping under the tires. I had missed driving, I realize now. I got so used to almost never being able to do it that I forgot how good it feels to turn the wheel yourself, to watch the speedometer ramp up when you decide you want to fly. Ten minutes later, I swerve into Ursa Minor’s deserted parking lot and screech to a stop across three separate spaces.
“Oh, what the fuck!” I choke out as I step into the bar, coughing into my sleeve. The blue roses tumble out of my hand. Ursa Minor is empty, but there’s something in the air, something invisible that drives scorching, stinging needles into my eyes and my sinuses. Tears stream down my face; my exposed skin prickles and burns. Sunfyre sneezes over and over again and lingers in the doorway, gulping in fresh night wind from outside. There’s shattered glass and green liquid on the hardwood floor. There’s an upturned barstool. The stereo is playing Cake’s cover of Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps.
What the hell happened here—?
And then I see it: the cannister of bear mace that had rolled under the booth, the same one she and her friends always sat in.
She used the bear mace. She finally used it. But why?
There’s blood on the floor. There’s blood on the table too. There’s a tattered, olive-green journal opened to a blank page. The pieces slide closer and closer and then link together, an explosion in my mind like fireworks.
I bolt outside and study the snow-covered parking lot. There are fresh tire tracks there under the murky luminescence of the streetlights; they lead out to the main road and then north towards the lakes.
“No,” I whisper to no one but the fierce wind, the sky threaded with the opalescent Northern Lights. “No, no, no…”
I sprint back inside Ursa Minor, get the phone Dale keeps behind the bar, and call the cops. “Stay where you are,” the 911 dispatcher instructs me sternly. “Wait for the police, do not attempt to investigate yourself, do not attempt to intervene—”
“Yeah, fuck that,” I say, and slam the receiver into the cradle. Then I swipe the black 8 ball off the pool table.
I load Sunfyre into the 4Runner and spin out of the parking lot, following the parallel lines of tire tracks like the etching of veins beneath skin.
~~~~~~~~~~
There’s a sound, rough and grating; and then you realize that it’s you being dragged across the ice. When your eyes flutter open, you see the uninterrupted sky: indigo night, distant stars, the Northern Lights. Your clothes are wet with snow; it’s so cold that the fabric is freezing, stiff and crackling when you try to move. Dale is lugging you over the frozen lake by the collar of your sweater. It’s choking you, but of course that doesn’t matter much. He’s about to kill you anyway.
“It’s not right,” Dale mutters, and you’re aware through the disorientation and the fog-like cloud of pain that he’s not really talking to you. “Your mom’s a nice lady. It’s not right that she had to lose two people this way, she doesn’t deserve that. Oh well. It can’t be helped now, can it?”
You whimper something, disjointed helpless words. Please, hurts, don’t, please.
“It’s not me,” Dale says, as if it’s perfectly logical. “I mean, not really. It’s this part of me that I can’t cut out. I can only feed it so it goes away for a while. It quiets down sometimes, it hibernates like a bear in the winter…but it always comes back. And my god, is it hungry.”
You smack clumsily, futilely at his hands as he hauls you over the ice. Dale doesn’t seem to notice.
“You have to make it look like an accident. That’s the ticket, if you don’t want anybody to know. You shove a hiker from a ledge, a drunk into the ocean. I did that for a long time, never raised suspicion. Never pinged on anyone’s radar. Jesse was the hardest, though. Good lord, did he fight. Had to pour a bottle of Everclear down his throat. Had to make it look like he was drinking that night. He wasn’t, which was unusual. Kept saying he wanted to turn things around. I think you had something to do with that. Now this? You were never supposed to be here, ladybug. What a shame. What a goddamn shame.”
Consciousness is a river that you dip in and out of; blackness crumbles around the edges of your vision, collapses in, recedes, swells again like a wave. You moan, you beg, you struggle as much as you can. It’s not much. It might as well be nothing.
“Things were easier after I got married,” Dale continues. He has a large hiking backpack slung over his broad shoulders, you see now. It jostles from side to side as he drags you. You know what’s in there: a chisel to break the ice, fishing line to strangle you. “Having someone else there all the time, it was a distraction. And it kept that thing inside me…not tame, no, I wouldn’t say that. But chained up down in the basement, maybe. Now I’m alone again. And when the chains start rattling, there’s nothing to stop me from hearing them.”
You get your feet under you, twist around, and slam your fists into Dale’s chest as hard as you can. He laughs in a baritone rumble and shoves you back down onto the ice; your head hits the ground, and you can feel yourself fading again, the last wisps of sunlight at dusk.
“Sometimes you want to hide,” Dale says. “And sometimes you don’t. I was ready to stop hiding. I can’t tell you what a high it was every time they found a body. The news, the ceaseless chattering around town, the name they gave me…incredible. Exhilarating. I couldn’t sleep for days after each kill. I’d toss and turn all night imagining what the headlines would be. Let me tell you, ladybug. I’ve never tried heroin, and I never need to. It can’t possibly be better than this.”
What will happen to my parents? you think, heartbreak gutting you, dull knifes rearranging your organs. What will happen to Heather and Kimmie and Joyce? What will happen when Aegon finds out he left too soon?
“I knew I needed someone to pin it on,” Dale informs you calmly. “Didn’t take anyone who went to the bar, didn’t take anyone who could be traced back to me. And still, I knew they’d figure it out eventually if I didn’t give them another suspect. At first, I was thinking I might use Aegon. He was a little small, sure, but he showed up around the right time and he was an outsider. Then I saw the way Trent was with you…aggressive, menacing…and I knew it had to be him. It was almost too easy. I planted the seeds, and good lord did they grow.”
“They’ll know,” you croak. “If you kill me, the police will find my body and they’ll know Trent’s not the Ice Fisher.”
Hideously, horribly, Dale smiles down at you. “Oh, ladybug, I don’t think they’ll ever find you. They found the others because I wanted them to. And no one is looking for victims anymore. Once you sink, I’ll cover up the hole with ice and snow. No blood, no signs. People will assume you’re a runaway. It was just too much, wasn’t it? Trent getting arrested, Aegon leaving town. Maybe you ran off after him. Maybe you threw yourself in the channel. Who could say? No, your bones will become silt, your name will slowly disappear from Juneau. And in ten or twenty years, your parents will have you declared dead in absentia. That’s my best guess. That’s how it will go.”
“No,” you sob, battling against the hands knotted into the collar of your sweater. “No—!”
His knuckles bash the side of your head, and a black silence rolls in like high tide, engulfs you, drowns you. When you swim back up into consciousness again, Dale is a few yards from you and drilling a hole in the ice with his chisel. You try to crawl away and promptly collapse, frail and boneless. He glances over at you, chuckles pleasantly, and then begins using a hatchet to widen the opening.
No, you think, hooking your fingers into the snow and dragging yourself towards the forest. No, no, no…
Dale’s ready for you. He walks over, grabs both of your ankles, tugs you with terrifying ease to the hole in the ice. Then he has a length of fishing line in his hands, and he’s looping it around your throat again and again, and he’s tightening it until the needle-thin nylon wire bites into your flesh, spilling tendrils of blood. You know you don’t have a chance, but you try; you owe it to your parents to try. You claw at the fishing line and you struggle and you cry out in hoarse, useless screams—
And then you hear something that doesn’t make any sense. Through the darkness, through the wind, there are the barks of a dog. Sunfyre rockets into your dimming field of vision and jumps on Dale, snarling and growling and snapping at his hands, his face. Dale flings the dog away, and as he’s distracted, Aegon arrives. He’s holding—ludicrously—a black 8 ball from a pool table, and he smashes it into Dale’s head. A sick, wet, crushing sound ricochets, cracked bone cushioned by flesh, and Dale howls as he rolls onto his side and covers his head with his hands.
He peers up at Aegon, furious and pained and stunned. “You?!”
“Me.” Aegon’s voice is dark and low like thunder, like the iron gale of storms over the ocean. “And I’m a killer.”
He lunges at Dale, still wielding the 8 ball. Dale’s massive hand juts out and closes around Aegon’s wrist, and then he yanks him to the ground. They’re grappling on the snow and ice, they’re striking out with knuckles and elbows, they’re ripping at each other with their bare hands. You’re trying to unravel the fishing line still coiled around your throat, panting in deep, frantic breaths so you can see and think clearly, so you can scramble to your feet, so you can help Aegon. And then Dale gets away from him just long enough to grab you again, to wrap the ends of the fishing line around his fingers. He delivers one last macerating blow to your skull, pulls you by your throat to the gaping hole in the ice, and shoves you through.
The water is so cold it’s paralyzing. There is a thought that seizes you—so overwhelming, so strangely rational—that says all you have to do is stay where you are, to wait a little longer, and then you’ll never hurt again, you’ll never be disappointed or caged, you’ll never be anything. And you think of all the lives you could have lived, all the places you could have gone: cities and beaches and deserts and valleys, gardens and rivers, ruins and glass. You were always so afraid of really going after them. What the hell were you so afraid of? Everything worth fearing is right here in Juneau.
I can still do those things. I can still live. And I can still help Aegon.
You jolt out of your inertia and clamber madly for the surface. But you don’t hit frigid open air; you hit ice, ice too thick to break through, ice too thick for more than a murmur of light to penetrate. Your palms press against the semitransparent wall; bubbles of carbon dioxide spurt from your nose and mouth. You feel for the opening that Dale made, but you don’t know where it is. You are lost beneath the ice, running out of air, fading rapidly. Then you hear Jesse—and you aren’t sure how you know what his voice sounds like, but you do—speaking softly and kindly to you, comforting you, telling you which way to go.
I’m sorry that no one knows the truth, you say without speaking. I’m sorry we thought you destroyed yourself. I’m sorry you never got the chance to truly live.
You were all better off without me anyway, he answers, without any bitterness at all. And that’s true, isn’t it?
There is a great disruption that rocks through the water. New currents stir into existence, fresh waves spring out of the darkness. And then someone takes your hand and draws you towards a noise, muffled through the ice and water: a dog barking, you realize. Then your palms find the opening and you inhale brutally cold air into your aching lungs, the best you’ve ever tasted. Aegon helps pull you through the hole and out of the lake, out of the jaws of oblivion.
You lie together on the ice, breathing in gasps that turn to mist in the night wind. Dale’s body is sprawled several yards away. The hatchet he’d used to break up the ice is buried in his neck, spine severed, eyes slick and vacant. You can see reflections of the Northern Lights flickering in them.
“You came back,” you whisper to Aegon as whirling police sirens approach, the lights dancing on his face: blue like the ocean, red like fire and blood.
“Of course I came back, Appletini,” he says, laughing with frenzied relief, kissing your cheeks and forehead over and over again, lake water dripping from his hair. Sunfyre jumps around you both, yapping ecstatically, his tail wagging. “I couldn’t leave without my Juneau girl.”
~~~~~~~~~~
There’s wind, but it isn’t sharp like a blade. There’s a sky, but it isn’t cloaked in cloud cover or fog. The boats that bob in the surf are sailboats and cruisers, not fishing vessels. Dolphins crest out of the sun-speckled waves like someone coming up from a dream.
It’s June 9th, and you’re soaring down the Pacific Coast Highway in the red Ford Mustang convertible you rented after the plane touched down in Seattle. Aegon is in the driver’s seat, black sunglasses and white T-shirt, his hair whipping in the breeze. He has one hand on the wheel and the other behind your headrest. Sunfyre is in the backseat, grinning like only dogs can. You turn up the song on the radio: Drive by Incubus.
You and Aegon had stayed in Juneau long enough for your skull to heal, and for your parents to find someone else to take over the vet clinic. They settled on a 32-year-old from Detroit: Justin McNair, a former Marine like your dad, and he either has no family or a bad one because he never wants to talk about them. Perhaps it doesn’t really matter which it is; perhaps sometimes they’re just about the same thing. Your parents have already basically adopted him. He eats dinner with them three times a week and calls your dad when he needs help with house maintenance or scaring a moose away from his truck. And just before you went south, Aegon showed him how to make the world’s best hot chocolate.
You send postcards back to Juneau from each town you stop in. Heather’s bon voyage gift to you had been an indecently revealing swimsuit. Joyce appeared with—what else?—a stack of books fit for leisurely beach reading. And Kimmie gave you, however bizarrely, a compass. So you don’t get lost, she had said with an innocuous little smile. You honestly couldn’t tell if she was joking.
During his one month in jail, Trent learned how to meditate and do yoga. He’s still kind of a dumbass, but he’s also a supposedly devout vegan Buddhist, and he had the decency to leave you alone aside from an apology letter that he slid into the moose-shaped mailbox: handwritten, six pages, lots of spelling and grammatical errors. Oh, and he finally got that job with the Forest Service, probably mostly due to his high-profile wrongful detainment. Now hikers get to swoon over his muscles and hair flips.
You’ll go back to Juneau, of course. Maybe just for visits, maybe for more than that someday. But it will never feel like a cage again.
Aegon calls Aemond every two or three days, a habit he started when he was in rehab. At first it was by necessity—he needed someone to pay the $30,000 bill—but now you think he secretly looks forward to it. He updates Aemond about how the road trip is going and reassures him that the plan hasn’t changed: south to San Diego, and then cutting east across the country to Miami. You don’t know what exactly life will look like there, and neither does Aegon. That’s not the important thing about going. Part of AA is making amends, and Aegon has a lot of work to do in that respect. He wants to go back to Miami, he says. He’s ready to go back.
San Diego is exactly like Aegon once told you it would be. You weave through the rust-colored peaks of the Laguna Mountains and there’s the Pacific Ocean, glittering and sapphire-blue, peppered with surfers and sea lions. It’s hot and it’s beautiful beyond words and everything grows there: ivy, cactuses, palm trees, calla lilies, roses. And for the first time that you can remember, the world feels breathtakingly, impossibly big. You get carryout from an unassuming restaurant called The Taco Stand, and then Aegon parks the convertible in La Jolla. You walk down the steps carved into the cliffside, paper bags in your hands full of tacos and churros, Aegon carrying Sunfyre so the dog won’t slip.
You sit together on the golden sand and watch the 8:00 p.m. sun sink into the waves, Aegon’s arm around your waist, your fingers tucking his lock of silvery hair behind his ear. And then he takes your hand, kneads it until it’s sinuous and relaxed, and reads the lines of your palm in the amber dusk like firelight.
“It says you’re happy,” he tells you. “And that you’re free.”
“I am,” you reply, smiling as the ocean stretches out like the arm of a galaxy: the ancient past, the infinite future.
#aegon ii#aegon targaryen x reader#aegon targaryen ii#aegon x reader#aegon targaryen#aegon ii targaryen#aegon x y/n#aegon x you#nttf#north to the future
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HI!! if i could kindly request Genya and some dry humping writings..
Happy Birthday to my sweet boy Genya 💜
cw: NSFW • Thigh Humping • Whining • Hair Pulling • Light Face Slapping • Mouth Spitting • Praise/Degradation • Light bondage • Sub! Genya • Dom! Reader • GN! Reader
“Happy Birthday sweet boy~♡”
He shivers, not because he’s cold but due to the erotic position he’s in now, wrists bound behind his back and exposing his strong chest and shoulders. His black pants remain on, though they’ve dropped low due to his belt having been used as his restraint.
He’s panting like an animal in heat, heart thundering in his ribcage as you sit languidly in a chair before him, smiling while you lean your chin on your palm, elbow resting on your knee with your legs crossed.
His hair sticks to his face a little, sweat dripping down his neck and chest as his veins protrude due to the pressure building in his lower half. His cock hard but pinned by his pants to his leg, leaking and leaving a visible wet spot for your eyes to see.
“Thank you mistress,” he breathes the words like a prayer, eyes shining like uncut amethyst. You’ve been teasing him for almost an hour with gentle touches and soothing words, but he’d requested something else for his birthday present from you.
“I want you to own me,” he had said, looking positively captivating as he nervously replied to your question, lips pursed and cocky attitude dropped in favor of bowing his head in a silent request for pets.
Now here he sat on his knees before you, excited and nervous when you’d begin. The suspense was killing him, the sweet words and brushes of your finger tips driving him wild with need.
And then he feels his head jerk up, your fingers which were once stroking his hair now curled into his soft locks and forcing him to look you in the eye.
“Aw~ does my puppy want to cum?” You tease, his flushed cheeks and open mouth a telling sign of how aroused he is. Unable to nod due to the hold you have on his hair, he’s forced to verbally agree, “Y-yes! Please let me cum, mistress.” He whines when you sit further back in your chair, cocking a brow as he shuffles forward on his knees to close the distance again.
“Okay puppy, you can cum,” you shake his head a little with a grin, the glint in your eyes making his cock jerk in poorly concealed anticipation. He licks his dry lips as you lean close to his face. “Since my puppy wants release, go ahead and hump my thigh.”
His eyes go wide, face burning in humiliation as you lean back once again, relaxing and spreading your legs for him to climb and sit on.
“L-like this…?” He seems confused but you merely nod, letting him make the decision to awkwardly stand with his hands bound and climb onto your lap, strangling your right thigh as his breathing increases. You wear pants similar to his, the friction likely going to hurt a little but he settles nonetheless with a moan as he presses against the soft squish of your leg. The barely there pressure just enough to send jolts of pleasure up his spine.
“F-feels good, mistress,” he pants, hips already working to find a rhythm as he humps your legs cautiously. He moans when you tug his hair again, forcing him to arch his back now as you press your chests close while leaning over him. His flexible spine allowing the odd position while he relies on your hold to keep him balanced.
“M-mistress—,”
“Such a good little slut. Do you like fucking yourself against me puppy?”
“Fuck—yes! Yes I do!” His eyes roll back as he feels a sharp slap to his cheek, cock jumping and his hips driving harder against you, his precum now leaking through your own pants and dampening the fabric. “T-thank you mistress!” He gasps as you land another light blow to his other cheek, yanking his neck even farther back as you lean close enough to kiss him.
And spit in his open mouth.
Genya feels himself cum with your spit on his tongue, body trembling with the force of his orgasm as he babbles senselessly and rides out every drop against you with abandon.
You release his hair as he slumps against you, your previous harsh pressure melting to soft touches again, soothing words as you praise him and kiss his neck.
“You did so good for me puppy, I’m so proud of you.” You coo, his eyes droopy with exhaustion as he relaxes into you completely.
“You can rest a little longer, but in a minute I need you to go get my strap.”
His cock twitches at the word.
Dividers/@cafekitsune
#Yan answers#happy birthday Genya#genya shinazugawa#sub! Genya Shinazugawa#dom! reader#sub! Genya x Dom! reader#dom! GN! reader#kny smut#Genya Shinazugawa smut#demon slayer smut#kny dom! reader
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congratulations on your amazing milestone my love 💜
this was nearly impossible to choose buuuut what if it was mirror sex and breath play with Dieter? what if that please?
WHAT IF I WROTE IT HAN?! WHAT THEN?! Heh. My first ever bit of Dieter writing so please be gentle with me, but I hope you enjoy regardless!
Thank you so much Han, I really appreciate the love! I think it was your reblog of my first Javi P mirror sex 👀 that made my followers explode a little, so thank you for always supporting me. 🧡
Pairing | Dieter Bravo x F!Reader
Word Count | 1.4k
Warnings | Explicit, 18+ Minors DNI. Mentions of smoking weed, MIRROR SEX, breath play and unprotected PiV sex.
Part of my 1k Smut Sensation Celebration - if you want in, check here for details - I’m accepting requests through July 15th.
He’s bored. You both are. Dieter’s break from work seemed like a really good idea at the time. A chance for him to recoup after back-to-back projects and a chance for what was a new relationship between the two of you to have time to actually blossom. Neither of you had really thought about Dieter’s need to be constantly entertained, his fingers itching to do something. Anything. All the time.
He'd woken up from his second weed-induced nap of the day about twenty minutes ago and was already up and pacing the room, taking books from your shelf to flick through hoping something would catch his eye, or channel surfing the TV to try and find something to capture his attention. On the forty-fifth click of the television remote, because you were keeping count, you lost it.
Pushing yourself up from the couch, you grab hold of his wrist, “I can’t fucking take it anymore.” You mumble, pulling him up and dragging him down the hallway of your apartment.
You didn’t really have a plan on what to do once you got here, but you push him by his shoulders into your room, pushing him back until the backs of his knees hit the bed and he tumbles backwards. He grabs hold of you at the last second, causing you to tumble down with him, ending up straddled above his hips.
You bend forward and start trailing soft kisses across his jaw, feeling his hands come to your ass where they squeeze, enough to have you whining for more. You push back slightly and feel Dieter’s already half-hard cock through his plaid pyjama pants. You loved this, the way he was always so receptive to you. You shimmy down his body a little, letting your own clothed core grind down into him.
“Fuck, baby,” He spits out, hands flying to your hips to help guide your movements, dragging you slowly to grind against his growing erection, “Can’t believe I get to fuck you as much as I want now.”
“I think you’ll find this was my idea,” You grin, moving to rip your tank top over your head, nipples pebbling almost immediately in the cool air of your room, “And I’ve got an idea.”
Dieter sits himself up, wrapping his arms around your back to bring his mouth to your tits. He’s running the flat of his tongue over a nipple, using his teeth to make tiny bruises on the delicate skin around them, before he switches to the other side. It drives you wild, how this man has absolutely zero patience in any other part of his life apart from this, where he will happily spread you out and tease you for hours before giving you want you really want. One of your hands is running through the messy curls on the top of his head, the other draped across his shoulders as you continue to grind yourself down on him. You can already feel your pussy soaking through the material of your pyjamas.
“Well, go on then,” He insists, finally pulling away from your chest, “What’s your big idea, baby?”
You extract yourself from your place on his lap, standing at the foot of the bed, shedding the last item of clothing you were wearing, “First of all, stand up and take your clothes of.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He shoots at you, before scrambling from the bed, t-shirt dragging over his head to join your pile of clothes on the floor.
You know Dieter enjoys it when you boss him around like this. He likes being told what to do, how to please you best, what you like so he can do more of it and what you don’t like so he knows what to stop. He likes it when you ride him, using him to get yourself off being finally telling him he can come too.
Watching closely as he pulls the plaid down his legs, a smirk on your lips when he grips his cock in his fist and starts pumping himself, the idea forming in your head is becoming more enticing by the second. You wordlessly walk over to the full-length mirror in the corner of your room, placing flat palms on the glass. You look over at Dieter, who is watching with glazed eyes and an open mouth as you push your ass out and spread your legs, “Well, come on, big boy,” You coax, “Come fuck me where I can watch.”
He's behind you in minutes, spitting into the palm of his hand to coat his cock before he’s lining up with your entrance, slick from the work of his mouth on your tits, and pushing into you, slowly letting you take each and every inch of his cock until he’s buried inside you to the hilt.
You’re making direct eye contact with yourself in the mirror, the sight of your mouth dropping open turning you on even more than you already were. Dieter lifts his head once he’s found his rhythm of slow, languid thrusts, smirking at the way you’re watching yourself.
“Don’t I always tell you you’re the most beautiful when you’re getting fucked?” He groans into your ear, one of his hands coming to grip your chin to hold your stare steady in the reflection, “Believe me now, baby?”
He’s picking up the pace now, you can hear the slap of skin as his hips meet the skin of your ass, and when he finally hits that sweet spot inside you, you practically sing for him, letting your eyes trail down the mirror to watch as your tits bounce with every thrust. It’s delectable, really, but it’s still not enough.
You move one of your hands from the mirror to drag his from holding your chin, to holding your throat. You’re looking at his eyes in the mirror as the widen, his hips are getting sloppy but still manage to drive you insane.
“Go on,” You encourage, “You can squeeze a little.”
His wide palm is covering most of your neck, a thrill travels all the way down your spine as he does squeeze. It’s light and gentle, barely enough that you can feel it, but it’s enough to have your pussy clenching around him.
“Harder,” You beg, and he pulls his cock almost all the way out before slamming back into, “No, Dieter, my neck, squeeze it harder.”
He does another tentative squeeze, tightening the way his fingers are gripping the skin to the side of your neck, which moves the pressure of his palm. You can still breathe, but it’s enough for you now, a devilish giggle falling from your lip, “You like that?” He asks, having not let up with the bruising pace of his hips, “Like when I choke you?”
He lets up the pressure so you can talk, “Love it,” You moan, and then he’s squeezing with a similar pressure again, “I fucking love it.”
“Look at yourself,” He’s back at your ear, “Stuffed full of my cock and begging me to choke you,” He nips at your earlobe, “Put your fingers on your pussy and come for me, baby.”
You don’t need to be told twice. You lock eyes with him in the mirror, sticking two of your fingers into your mouth, swirling your tongue over them, much like you’d done on his cock the night before, before they’re between your legs and rubbing hard and fast circles over your clit.
Dieter applies pressure to your throat again, his grip a little tighter than the last time, and you’re done. The pressure at your neck means you can do nothing by let a whine drop from your lips as pleasure bursts through your body to settle on every nerve ending you’ve got. Your legs feel like jelly, if it wasn’t for Dieter finally pulling his palm from your neck to hold your hips as he brought himself to the edge, you’d have fallen.
He’s pulling himself out of you, fisting his cock a few times before you can feel the warm ropes of cum spilling over your lower back and your ass. You feel him run one of his fingers through the mess he’s made, before he’s bringing his fingers to your face and watching in the mirror as you suck the finger into your mouth, tasting him.
“So fucking hot, baby,” He’s smirking, reaching down for the t-shirt he was wearing yesterday, thrown to the floor without a second thought, before he’s using it to wipe the rest of his cum from your skin, “You wanna get high and order noodles?”
You turn around, letting your back hit the cool glass of the mirror as he kisses you, “Hell yeah, I wanna get high and order noodles,” You grin against his lips, “You’re rolling though.”
#Dieter Bravo#dieter bravo fic#Dieter Bravo fanfic#dieter bravo fanfiction#Dieter Bravo smut#Pedro Pascal#the bubble#Dieter Bravo x you#Dieter Bravo x reader#Dieter Bravo x female reader#Dieter Bravo x f!reader#the bubble fic#PSSC
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Cant believe I'm just getting around to posting it but huge thanks to @self-shipping-payaso for this awesome commission!! Even as a YCH, it's still super unique and cute, and I appreciate how kind they were and willing to change things up for me! Go give their commission page a look! :3
[💜 Reblogs are all seen and very appreciated! 💜]
#stg this is definitely going on my carrd once i have the time and energy to update it#but this is so cuuuuute i wanna make it my lockscreen too 🥺💖🥺💖🥺💖🥺💖#legit how i feel when im picking an f/o to thi k about for the day ehehehee#self shipping#self ship community#oc x canon#ok to rb#💜: love burning like the sun#💜: the man of my schemes#💜: where have all the good men gone#💜: you drive me wild#💜: long live the king#💜: harmony of our chaos
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Stick With You
Ghost x Yasmin
Chapter 1. Ghostin
"Boys my daughter will be staying with us for the time being. Ghost I know you and Yasmin have history but please go easy on her. She's apart of our team now." Price told everybody but being more direct to Ghost.
"Hi boys did you miss me?" Yasmin asked them all.
"Yasmin, where did you want me to put your bags at?" Her brothers asked her.
"In my room right across from Ghost." Yasmin said while staring daggers at Ghost.
"I've missed you, luv." Ghost said to Yasmin.
"They don't know we didn't break up?" Yasmin asked him a little frustrated.
"They don't need to know anything." Ghost said to Yasmin.
"You've always looked frustrated from everything." Price said to his daughter.
£
Text between Yasmin & Fleur
Fleur
Hey sista I just wanted make sure that you were okay with everything going on.
Yasmin
Yes I'll be fine just not myself just yet.
Fleur
Did ma say anything to you to make you love with dad?
Yasmin
No it was more so her husband than anything. He threatened to tell Sheppard about Ghost and I but he already knew we were a thing.
Fleur
Oh. I thought he knew from dad.
Yasmin
I really miss when he and mom were together.
Fleur
I can see if they can get back together because mom just finalized the divorce.
Yasmin
When did she finalize it?
Fleur
Yesterday and she found out a lot more about him. He's been trying to get under Ghosts skin ever since you two started dating.
Yasmin
He's been trying hard ever since then buy knowing Ghost he's going to beat the absolute mess out of him.
Fleur
Well I'm heading back to the house now.
Yasmin
Drive safe. Love you.
Fleur
Love you too little sister.
(read @ 2:30pm)
End of message between the sisters.
Look at the cards that we've been dealt
If you were anybody else
Probably wouldn't last a day
Every tear's a rain parade from hell (From hell)
£
"How long did you know your mother was getting a divorce from him?" Price asked his daughter.
"I didn't know until Fleur told me. She's been keeping a watchful eye on him." Yasmin told her dad.
"You know the both of you have boyfriends." Price said to his daughter.
"Yes dad we are very aware of that but we both have jobs also. Simon and I have two kids." Yasmin told her dad.
"I know you two have children together. I'm not dumb at all daughter." Price said to his daughter.
£
Yasmin's Phone messages
Ethan
Girl this ghostin shit is mad wild. You are just now seeing Ghost after four years?
Ethan
Jesus Yasmin I've never seen you cry that much.
Madre 💋
Please for the sake of you and your mental health don't dwell on this.
Fleur 💜
Sista you know damn well that dad and mom are perfect for each other.
Ethan
Oh. I thought you ghosted Ghost.
Ethan
Wait your mom ghosted your dad?
Strawberry
Girl why'd mom just walk into your room and find all the pictures of her and dad?
Si 💕
Luv it's okay your mother can handle herself.
Si 💕
It's never a good idea for you to go above and beyond like that.
Soap
Wait Price didn't want a divorce?
Keegan
That's crazy how you are on 141. Cobra team is going haywire without you.
Ghostface
Yeah I think so.
Mariah
Sis can you bring your son's diaper bag up here?
End of Yasmin's Phone messages
£
Fleur's Phone messages
LilSisYas🥂
Not that I know of but I'll see if dad has some in his office.
FatherPricePrice☮️
You and your sister are both living here now?
FroggyBoy🍧
Babe you could've told them the truth.
End of Fleur's Phone messages
£
Yasmin's Phone
𝟭𝟰 𝗠𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝗖𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘀 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗦𝗶💕
𝟱 𝗠𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝗰𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘀 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗣𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗲𝗣𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗲𝗧𝗵𝗮𝗢𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹🥃
𝟴𝟰 𝗠𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝗖𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘀 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝟭𝟰𝟭
We'll get through this, we'll get past this, I'm a girl with
A whole lot of baggage
But I love you, we'll get past this, I'm a girl with
A whole lot of baggage, yeah
#ghost#john price#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#john soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#cod#fanfic
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Hello
Can you please write Lidia x reader? Maybe something steamy
hi love 💜 this came out a bit more than steamy, hope that's okay
Home
Lidia Cervos x Reader
warnings: smut, oral f!receiving, face sitting, tribbing-ish, minors dni
You weren’t sure if you were still breathing as you watched Lidia’s mouth wrap around the beer bottle, the way her tongue flicked out against her bottom lip as your girlfriend set her drink down.
“Something on your mind?” she purred, a knowing glint in her golden eyes. Forcing yourself to breathe, you looked around to see all of your friends deep in other conversations, smirking to yourself at the perfect opening.
Leaning forward, you whispered lowly to her. “I’m just thinking about all the things I would be doing to you if we were alone.”
Her reaction left you brimming with satisfaction and arousal, her scent subtly shifting as bright eyes darkened. Before you could blink, she’d taken your hand, pulling you from the booth towards the empty back hallway.
Her hands landed on either side of your head, your back pressed against the wall as lips lightly traced your jaw. “Gods, you drive me insane,” she whispered, tugging your ear between her teeth before she pulled away, grinning at your wild eyes and flushed cheeks. “Look at you, such a mess and I haven’t even touched you yet,” she cooed.
You gasped, arching your back as you wrapped a leg around Lidia’s waist, pulling her closer. “Please, touch me,” you breathed, head tilting so your lips barely brushed hers.
You felt her smirk against you, pulling back as her eyes raked up and down your body. “Tell me, where do you want me to touch you?” she purred.
“Anywhere,” you pleaded, “Anything you will give me, I just want you.”
Something softened in Lidia’s eyes at your words, her lips crashing against yours in a bruising kiss. Her hand slid up your waist, thumb lightly grazing your nipple.
The feeling sent a jolt straight to your core, a whimper leaving your lips that Lidia used to slide her tongue against yours, her lips sucking on the muscle before pulling away with a smirk.
Her hand found your other breast, flicking your nipple over the fabric of your dress. You released a breathy moan, eyes rolling back at the feeling while Lidia laughed softly. “So reactive,” she purred, pushing her breasts against yours as her lips found your neck again. “I can smell how needy you are for me, dove.”
Panting, you leaned your head to grant her better access as she continued her assault down your neck. “Please, Lidia, stop teasing.”
Instantly, Lidia stood, wrapping an arm around your waist as she guided you to the bar’s exit. “Where are we going?” you questioned, waving an awkward goodbye to your friends, each of them giving you knowing smirks.
“Home. I can’t do all the things I want to do to you in a bar,” she answered simply, ushering you towards the car as she set off down the road at a speed that had you gripping your seat.
Unlocking the apartment door, you squealed as she pushed you inside, hands immediately fumbling at the bottom of your dress. “Off, now,” she murmured through frantic kisses.
You stripped off your dress, throwing it somewhere on the floor as you kicked off your heels. “You too,” you nodded at her own gold dress. Her soft laugh echoed through the room, chiming like bells as she pulled the garment over her head, baring her body to you.
Instant need rushed through you, gaze turning hungry as you clashed with Lidia again, a tangle of lips and teeth, hands winding in each others’ hair. You moved towards the bedroom, Lidia gently pushing you to lay down on the soft mattress.
“Lay on your back for me, center of the bed,” she nodded, removing her underwear before following you onto the bed. Hands roved over your body, your bare chest as her mouth lowered to your breast, tugging your nipple between her teeth before flicking her tongue across the sensitive bud.
Grinding her hips against yours, you could feel her slick mingling with your own through the fabric of your panties. Lidia looked up from where she’d started teasing your other nipple, a feral grin on her lips as a hand slid down to your core.
Snapping the band of your underwear, Lidia sat up fully, her pussy pressed to yours while she studied you with glazed eyes. “Look at you, squirming under me, all pretty and flushed. Can’t even take a little teasing, can you?”
You huffed a laugh, hands running up her waist as you lifted your hips, desperate for more friction. “I’d hardly call this a little teasing, love.” Your gaze moved down her body, roving over her full breasts to her center. “Gods, Lidia, please just sit on my face,” you breathed.
Arching an amused brow, Lidia lifted her hips from yours, earning a whine from you at the loss of contact. With a ‘tsk’, she turned around, perfect ass in your face as she situated her body to hover above you, teasing. “Patience, dove,” she murmured, her dripping core sitting just above your mouth.
“I’ve been patient,” you retorted, wrapping your arms around her soft hips and pulling her fully onto your face. Nose brushing her entrance, your tongue licked a long stripe along her clit, drawing a beautiful moan as her fingers clutched the sheets beneath you.
“Fuck,” she whimpered as your lips wrapped around the bud, sucking and licking while you guided her back and forth along your face. “Two can play this game,” she muttered, roughly shoving your panties down your legs before pushing two fingers in your core.
Instinctively, you arched into her, moaning against her pussy as long fingers curled against your walls. “Right there,” you whispered, the vibrations against Lidia’s clit earning a lewd moan from her.
She practically collapsed against you, long blonde hair tickling your thighs as her mouth found your clit, sucking in rhythm with your own movements. Riding your face on shaking legs, Lidia’s breathing turned shallow, a sign that she was close.
You pinned her hips in place, doubling down your efforts on her clit as you brought your own fingers to her core, twisting and curling against the spot you knew would send her over the edge.
As though she sensed your goal, Lidia spread your legs, keeping you open as she added another finger, your muffled moans turning wild against her core as your own high approached.
Lidia clenched around your fingers, pussy fluttering as she came apart on you. Her moans send shocks through your clit, your back arching as you convulsed in her hold.
You crashed into your high, screams muffled by your girlfriend still seated on your face, coating you in her juices. Lidia rolled off of you, the cold air of the room suddenly hitting as you both caught your breath.
“Come here, please,” you whispered, motioning for Lidia join you. Wrapping a leg around her waist, you pulled her bare body against your own, reveling in her warmth.
Her lips pressed to yours, the combination of your flavors melting together on your tongue as you smiled into the kiss. She murmured quietly, “We should take a shower-”
“-get cleaned up,” you nodded, rolling off the bed towards the bathroom.
“I was thinking we could get dirtier,” Lidia chirped, flashing a mischievous grin as she gave your ass a squeeze.
You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Insatiable.”
Lidia hummed, turning on the shower water, “only for you.”
#crescent city#crescent city fanfiction#crescent city x reader#lidia cervos#lidia cervos x reader#crescent city smut#lidia x reader#lidia x you#lidia cervos x you#lidia cervos x reader smut#crescent city fic#crescent city fanfic#crescent city x you smut#crescent city x you#crescent city x reader smut#cc x reader#cc x reader smut#cc x you#the hind#cc lidia#crescent city reader#crescent city reader fic#crescent city imagine#crescent city reader imagine
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rules: bold the ones that are true and tag 15 other people to do it too!
thank you to the beautiful @mvtthewmurdvck for the tag! 💜
appearance:
i’m over 5’5” // i wear glasses/contacts // i have blonde hair // i prefer loose clothing to tight clothing // i have one or more piercings // i have at least one tattoo // i have blue eyes // i have dyed or highlighted my hair // i have gotten plastic surgery // i have or had braces // i sunburn easily // i have freckles // i paint my nails // i typically wear make-up // i don’t often smile // i am pleased with how i look // i prefer nike to adidas // i wear baseball hats backwards
hobbies + talents:
i play a sport // i can play an instrument // i am artistic // i know more than one language // i have won a trophy in some sort of competition // i can cook or bake without a recipe // i know how to swim // i enjoy writing // i can do origami // i prefer movies to tv shows // i can execute a perfect somersault // i enjoy singing // i could survive in the wild on my own // i have read a new book series this year // i enjoy spending time with friends // i travel during school or work breaks // i can do a handstand
relationships:
i am in a relationship // i have been single for over a year // i have a crush // i have a best friend i have known for ten years // my parents are together // i have dated my best friend // i am adopted // my crush has confessed to me // i have a long distance relationship // i am an only child // i give advice to my friends // i have made an online friend // i met up with someone i have met online
aesthetics:
i have heard the ocean in a conch shell // i have watched the sun rise // i enjoy rainy days // i have slept under the stars // i meditate outside // the sound of chirping calms me // i enjoy the smell of the beach // i know what snow tastes like // i listen to music to fall asleep // i enjoy thunderstorms // i enjoy cloud watching // i have attended a bonfire // i pay close attention to colours // i find mystery in the ocean // i enjoy hiking on nature paths // autumn is my favourite season
miscellaneous:
i can fall asleep in a moving vehicle // i am the mom friend // i live by a certain quote // i like the smell of sharpies // i am involved in extracurricular activities // i enjoy mexican food // i can drive a stick-shift // i believe in true love // i make up scenarios to fall asleep // i sing in the shower // i wish i lived in a video game // i have a canopy above my bed // i am multiracial // i am a redhead // i own at least three dogs
np tags: @uselsshuman, @lunarvicar, @moriflos, @nightingale-ghost-writer, @sam-id
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LadyBess' Masterlist 🥃
Welcome to my Masterlist! I hope that, whatever you're into, there's something here which will take your fancy! 🤠
I write predominantly 18+ content, and each fic comes with its own content tags and warning - please check these out ahead of reading anything! Minors, please DNI ✨
For ease of navigation, I have used a Traffic Light System to rate these works 🖤 🚦
Green is for General/Teen rated content
Orange is for more Mature works
Red is for anything rated Explicit
My writing is mainly reader-insert content, but I have a mix of Female, AFAB, and Gender Neutral (GN) reader inserts 💜
While I mainly write for Pedro Pascal characters, I have also written for other characters both in and out of the 'Pedro-verse'! These will all be under their own subcategory of pairings 🤍
Please note this masterlist is a work in progress! I am in the process of transferring my A03 fics onto Tumblr, but for the time being some of these links will take you to my A03 (@/LadyBess)!
Please enjoy, and come back regularly to see what's new!
One-Shots
"Petals" - Jack Daniels x F!OC (Tumblr Ask/Prompt)
"Something Sweet" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader (A03)
"Departure" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader
"After Hours" - Jack Daniels x GN!Reader (A03)
"Fright" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader (A03)
"Swing" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader (A03)
"The Perfect Fit" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader (A03)
"Homeward Bound" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader
"Restless" - young!Jack Daniels x F!Reader
"The Lodger" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader
"Dessert" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader (A03)
"Chasing The Sun" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader (A03)
"Afternoon Intrusions" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader (A03)
"A Lesson Learned" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader (A03)
"Closing Time" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader (A03)
"Bound" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader (A03)
"Disciplinary" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader (A03)
Multi-Chapter/ Series'
"Jack-mas Christmas Drabbles" - Jack Daniels x AFAB/ F!Reader (A03)
"Fallout" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader
One-Shots
"Birthday Wishes" - Joel Miller x F!Reader
"The Headache" - Joel Miller x GN!Reader (A03)
"Foolish" - Joel Miller x F!Reader
One-Shots
"Getting In A Pickle" - Javier Peña x F!Reader
"Take A Seat" - Javier Peña x F!Reader
"Hot Nights in Colombia" - Javier Peña x F!Reader (A03)
Multi-Chapter/ Series'
"Monday Morning" - Javier Peña x F!Reader (A03) - collaboration with @joels-darlin 💕
One-Shots
"Drive Me Wild" - Frankie Morales x F!Reader (A03)
"Return To Me" - Frankie Morales x F!Reader (A03)
"Longing" - Frankie Morales x F!Reader (A03)
"Sundress" - Frankie Morales x F!Reader (A03)
One-Shots
"Birthday Boy" - Javi G x F!Reader (A03)
"Behave Yourself" - Javi G x AFAB!Reader (No pronouns used)
Multi-Chapter/ Series'
"Heist" - Javi G x F!Reader - COMING SOON
One-Shots
"Three's A Crowd" - Jack Daniels x Joel Miller x F!Reader (A03)
Multi-Chapter/ Series'
"Just A Date" - Multiple Pedro Character fic x GN!Reader
"Mutually Beneficial" - Javier Peña x Frankie Morales x F!Reader (A03)
Much loved characters, but so far only 1-2 fics to their name 💜
One-Shots
"Understanding" - Marcus Pike x F!Reader (A03)
"Now You See Me" - Marcus Pike x F!Reader (A03)
"Clean Up" - Max Phillips x F!Reader (A03)
"Hypercharged In Hyperspace" - Din Djarin x F!Reader (A03)
"Rookie Mistake" - Tim Rockford x F!Reader
Multi-Chapter/ Series'
"A Brand New Start" - Agent Ortega x F!Reader (A03)
One-Shots
"Salvation" - 11th Doctor (Doctor Who) x Clara Oswald (A03)
"Run" - 11th Doctor (Doctor Who) x F!Reader (A03)
"Rose Petals Blossom" - 11th Doctor (Doctor Who) x Rose Tyler (A03)
"Precious Moments With You" - 11th Doctor (Doctor Who) x F!Reader (A03)
Multi-Chapter/ Series'
"Paint The Town Red" - Ginger Ale (Kingsman) x F!Reader
#masterlist#fanfiction#fanfiction masterlist#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal cinematic universe#multifandom#multifandom fics#Kingsman#Doctor Who#Jack Daniels#Agent Whiskey#Joel Miller#TLOU#TUWOMT#javi gutierrez#javier peña#din djarin#Star Wars#frankie morales#Triple Frontier#Marcus Pike#the mentalist#the mummy 1999#professor layton
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10 of the bed sharing prompts for RC please? 🥹💜
Hope you wanted 1500 words of Cassian pining his ass off!
Rebelcaptain (Jyn x Cassian)
WC: 1450
Warnings: none, fluff
10. there is only one good pillow and we both don't need the neck pain, so I guess we have to press our heads close together
Jyn and Cassian were no strangers to sharing beds. In fact, they usually volunteered to share with each other when there was a shortage on bunks. Bodhi complained one too many times about Cass snoring, so Jyn swapped with him to shut him up. They slept back to back, rump to rump. He watched her six, and she watched his. Just like everything else about them, it worked seamlessly, wordlessly, a trust that went both ways.
People knew better than to tease them about it, knowing Cassian would shoot daggers with his eyes and Jyn might actually throw a real one if anyone so much as insulated that there was anything beyond a working partnership between them. They were in the middle of the fight of their lives still. There wasn’t time to sit and doodle his name with hearts in her holopad. I mean, sure, she had thought about it, but that was a conversation for future them. Anything she might have felt, she stowed deep down. Compromising what they had was too great of a risk to the rebellion.
Cassian, on the other hand, was head over heels. The first time Jyn yanked a very whiny Bodhi off the edge of the bunk and pointed to the top spot that she had been occupying moments prior, Cass might as well have held his breath the entire night, not wanting to snore and drive her away too. Feeling the soft curve of her ass nestled against his and the sharp point of her shoulder was enough to drive his thoughts wild. His heart pounded in his chest as he willed for it not to echo through the whole room and give him away. K2 definitely knew and teased him about it endlessly when it was just the two of them.
“I swear if you ruin this for me, I’ll reprogram you,” Cassian hissed as they heard Jyn boarding the ship and tossing her pack to the floor next to Cassian’s. K2 put his hands up in defeat, and even though it wasn’t really possible, Cassian could tell he had a devilish grin pulsating through his circuits.
The mission went fine, as they usually did. Often, they were just sent to gather intelligence, secure allies, handle the diplomatic side of things. Their contact was an older gentleman who offered his fishing shack close to the shore for them to stay the night in.
“Storm’s rolling in, but she’s tucked up there on the cliff. Shouldn’t be a problem,” he smiled, handing a rusted keyring to Cassian and pointing in the direction of the pale yellow house in the distance. They thanked him before stepping out into the thick, late summer air. Rolling grey clouds were already blocking the last of the sun’s ray. Beneath the sky, the ocean churned, waves breaking messily on the deep brown cliffs and the beach below.
Cass and Jyn drew their hoods in tight before stepping into the sharp wind to finish the last leg of their trek. Small specks of rain pelted their cheeks while pockets of hot air broke against their faces. Jyn ducked behind Cassian’s shoulder as he tried to take the brunt of the gale. They struggled the last few hundred yards as the force of the wind seemed to pick up at a steady rate. Part of the cliff jutted out, shielding the shack from some of the tempest. Jyn was thankful for the momentary reprieve as Cassian forced the aged key into the dilapidated lock, twisting it and shoving with all his strength until the door caved inward, creaking on its hinges and allowing them to stumble inside. It took both of them pushing back against it to latch it once more. Cassian bolted the extra storm locks while Jyn flipped on the lights. They were met with a one room cabin filled with dusty furniture complete with faded fabric and loose springs. The shutters shook violently under the wind’s force, but they both reasoned that, if it had stood this long, it would survive the night surely. Cass tossed their bags down near the rocking chair adjacent to the door as Jyn crossed the creaky floor to flop an equally creaky bed. They had been on the move for almost two full days, not even having time to steal a nap earlier, and her exhaustion was starting to set in.
Cassian chuckled at the sight of her sprawled out on her stomach hugging the pillow to her face. He fished a clean set of clothes out of his bag and headed to the curtained off shower nestled in the left corner of the room. Jyn always chose to sleep whenever possible. Cass always opted to shower or read to decompress first if he could. Her soft snores filtered through the curtain as he stood under the stream of lukewarm water scrubbing his hair clean. The ends were starting to curl at the nape of his neck, and he wondered if it was time to schedule a haircut when they got back to base. The threadbare towels didn’t do much in the way of drying him off. His pants stuck to him in several places as he struggled to pull them on before Jyn turned to see him. Her snoring persisted though, even when he stepped on a particularly creaky board, even when thunder shook the ceiling beams, even when the mattress groaned as he settled beside her and wrestled the blanket from her grasp.
He had combed the cabin over and found no other pillows or even an extra blanket he could ball up under his head. Jyn had the only one in the whole house captive as she snored into it, unbothered by the tropical storm whipping the house around like a reed in the wind. He tried laying flat on the mattress, feeling as if the floor would be more comfortable than the lumps and springs pressing into his back. The house groaned like it was an old man, tired of being weatherbeaten, old bones aching for reprieve. Cass sighed and turned to his side facing Jyn in front of him. His hand moved to the edge of the pillow and tugged it carefully. It glided out of her grasp and to the middle of the bed. Cass inched forward until his neck felt a marginal sense of relief. The motion made Jyn stir slightly. She rolled on her shoulder, now nose to nose with Cassian. He froze. Part of him screamed to face the wall, giving her some privacy, but most of him wanted to stay, to brush the hair from her forehead and feel the warmth of her breath, a beautiful reminder for the breath in their lungs. But the smell of her even if she didn’t shower was such a comfort, that he decided to allow himself just a few more minutes in this pretend bliss. His hand came to rest tentatively between them as he drifted off to the sound of waves crashing against the cliffs, reaching their long fingers towards them, but unable to breach their safe haven for the night.
The few minutes he allowed himself turned into a full night’s sleep, both of them anchored to a single pillow on a musty mattress. Dawn’s light crept in through the thin curtains pressing a warm line to Cassian’s jaw like a lover’s gentle hand. His eyes opened to a sight he had only ever seen in his dreams, Jyn’s soft features illuminated in an even softer light, the edges of her cheeks and the tip of her nose kissed by the sun. He watched the way her pouty lips parted as she breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth, each puff of air mussing the lock of her hair that curled around her cheek. For a moment, he was bold enough to wish that her eyes would flutter open, that he would finally know what his favorite shade of green looked like first thing in the morning under the cover of her thick lashes. He wished to see her lips curl into a smile upon taking in his face in front of her, and for this all to become habit. His cheeks flushed the same shade of pink as the clouds dotting the morning sky, happy to have survived the storm. Not wanting the daydream to end, he inched two fingers towards her hand and overlapped them, drinking in the warmth of her beneath him. He closed his eyes once more, hoping she slept for hours longer, stayed right there beside him, safe from the world.
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