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thesewordsareallihavetogive · 2 years

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That's My Wife - Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x airline pilot!reader

Summary: 3.2k words. Rooster and his coworkers drew the short stick and ended up on a commercial civilian flight across the country for specialty flight training in Key West. A certain someone makes the flight and travel woes well worth the trouble for Bradley.

Warnings: none really, just tons of fluff! maybe some cursing & frequent usage of she/her pronouns for the reader

a/n: hi!! i posted a little snippet/preview of this fic last night and def did not expect it to get as much attention as it did. i'm so happy that so many of you were just as excited as me to see the finished product! i hope y'all enjoy it! <3

master list

An advanced specialty flight training at the Naval Air Station in Key West had the best aviators in the U.S. military flocking to the vibrant Florida island. This, of course, included Top Gun’s best graduates.

Rooster, Phoenix, and Hangman all had impressive reputations before the Uranium Plant mission led by Maverick. After that mission? They were nothing short of living legends in the Navy. So, naturally, they were among the pilots being sent out for the rigorous training.

The Navy couldn’t rationalize sending a private charter plane or wasting the fuel needed to transport just a few pilots to a base thousands of miles away, so the three aviators were sent on a commercial flight. Phoenix, Hangman, and Rooster got to experience the joys of civilian travel–long security lines through TSA, insufferably stressed-out travelers, and the overwhelming urge to get wasted at the bar conveniently located near their gate.

Hangman joked that if Rooster weren’t in uniform and instead wearing his typical Hawaiian shirts and jorts, he would’ve fit right in with the other passengers. Phoenix, who gave in and treated herself to a glass of wine, snorted before adding that Rooster was uptight enough then to blend in seamlessly.

Bradley would never admit it, but they were probably right. His one consolation was the smile his boarding pass brought to his face. The airline they were traveling with was familiar to Rooster to say the least.

The three aviators received priority boarding as active-duty military personnel. They sat at the very front of the cabin and Phoenix took the opportunity to people-watch as the rest of the passengers boarded. Hangman busied himself with looking into which Key West nightclubs and bars he could hit up after training while Rooster sent a quick text.

2:37 p.m. Hey, baby. Just boarded the flight to Key West. I’ll talk to you when we land 😘 – Brad

2:38 p.m. Have a safe flight, babe 😉💗 – y/n

Rooster chuckled at y/n’s use of a winking emoji before he turned his phone off and slipped it into his pocket. The flight attendants moved down the center aisle to begin their safety demonstration. Rooster was certain he’d sat through the same speech a thousand times, so he got comfortable and closed his eyes to take a nap.

A crackling from the plane’s speakers preceded what Rooster anticipated to be another relatively boring announcement.

“Good afternoon and welcome aboard, everyone. This is your Captain speaking,” an upbeat feminine voice floated through the aircraft’s speakers. Bradley’s eyes shot open wide and he sat up straight at the sound. He’d recognize that voice anywhere.

“No way…” he whispered to himself with a surprised smile.

Phoenix and Hangman shared a side-eye glance once they noticed the sudden change in Rooster’s demeanor. The man previously looked bored out of his mind and now he was hanging on to every word of the announcement. A wide grin spread across Rooster’s face while the pilot continued her introduction. As they taxied toward the runway, Hangman’s curiosity got the better of him.

“What is it, Bradshaw?” Jake asked with a raised brow. The bastard couldn’t help but be nosy. Phoenix softly elbowed Hangman in the ribs, but she certainly wasn’t tuning the conversation out. Rooster confidently squared his shoulders and turned to look at them.

“That’s my wife,” Rooster stated proudly, referring to the captain’s voice with a grin.

Hangman’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head and Phoenix leaned back with an impressed smile. Rooster’s fellow aviators knew he was married; hell, he wore his wedding ring like a badge of honor. He was quick to reject the frequent flirting he received and would simply raise his left ring finger whenever he was asked out at The Hard Deck–the man was nothing if not loyal. But Rooster was never the type to speak about his personal life at work, much less mention that his wife is also a pilot.

In fact, the only person Rooster worked with that knew anything about y/n was Maverick. Bradley introduced them to each other a few months after they started dating. The younger Navy man knew by the end of their second date that y/n was it for him. It took y/n a little longer to come to the same conclusion, but once she did she never looked back.

Actually, it was Maverick that helped y/n realize just how head-over-heels in love she was with Bradley. He brought y/n to meet his stand-in father figure at Mav’s hanger. In the middle of y/n and Maverick geeking out about all the memorabilia displayed in the hanger and trading flight stories, Rooster ran out to silence his Ford Bronco’s ancient and overly-sensitive car alarm. Pete took the opportunity to let y/n know just how whipped his godson was. “I haven’t seen him this happy in a long time, y/n. He’s bailed on our dinner plans at least three times in the past month just to get a chance to see you when you’re in the area.” Maverick smiled and clasped y/n’s shoulder. “You’re good for him. I hope he’s good for you too.”

And the rest was history. Just after their one year anniversary, Bradley got down on one knee in the middle of a crowded airport after they spent three full weeks apart. y/n flung herself into Bradley’s arms, foregoing the ring entirely and pressed her lips against his before she said “yes, yes, a thousand times yes.” Maverick was one of the few people at their wedding. It was small and intimate–just how y/n and Rooster liked it. Their relationship wasn’t a secret by any means, but they preferred things to be private.

Rooster returned from his trip down memory lane as y/n reached the end of her airline spiel. Her simultaneous light-hearted bubbly tone and professional manner had Bradley sporting a sweet smile.

“Before we take off, there’s an additional announcement I’d like to make.” Rooster perked up. y/n was going off-script. “A little birdie told me that some very special Navy aviators are on board with us today,” y/n’s voice came through the speakers, pride seeping into her tone.

Phoenix and Hangman exchanged amused smirks before staring right at Rooster. In a different scenario, the sudden attention focused on him might’ve made him uncomfortable, but he couldn’t care less right now. His wife, whom he hadn’t seen in over a week, was just steps away and he would be able to hold her in his arms again soon.

“Thank you for your service, lady and gents,” y/n finished sincerely. A polite applause filled the aircraft, bringing appreciative smiles to the aviators’ faces. Rooster wasn’t surprised that y/n somehow found out they were on her flight; he knew better than anyone that she was particularly skilled at getting what she wanted, evidently including private passenger information.

With their busy schedules and unpredictable jobs, y/n and Rooster would sometimes go weeks without seeing each other. y/n was gaining seniority in her airline, so she was able to pick and choose her flights sometimes–all of which she strategically planned to be able to visit her husband. When they were on opposite sides of the country, or even the world, it was harder to align their schedules for just a phone call.

A few nights ago, they had synced-up free time and they didn’t waste a minute. Despite the time zone differences, they talked on the phone for hours. Bradley told y/n about his upcoming week of specialty training at the Naval Air Station in Key West. Since there was no pressing mission or deployment, the Navy was opting to send Rooster and his coworkers on a commercial flight rather than coordinate Navy transport. y/n hummed and checked her schedule while they talked. Lo and behold, she would be piloting a flight from San Diego to Key West later that week. Specifically, Rooster’s flight.

y/n didn’t let on anything about their upcoming flight during the phone call, she wanted it to be a surprise. If there was anything being a commercial passenger pilot taught her, it was how to make sure no one suspected anything was wrong while she spoke into her headset mic. Once, she had to make an announcement to casually address turbulence despite her internal panic while she discreetly manually redistributed fuel between engines when the automatic fuel system failed on a cross-country flight.

The very next morning following Rooster and y/n’s phone call, she pulled a few strings at work and was able to glance at the passenger details for the upcoming direct SAN to EYW flight.

Seat 1D: Lt. Bradley Bradshaw

Seat 1E: Lt. Natasha Trace

Seat 1F: Lt. Jake Seresin

If any policies or procedures were violated in the process of y/n finding the answer to her burning question, no one batted an eye. After all, she was quite possibly the most beloved pilot in her airline. So, that’s how she found out exactly which of Rooster’s coworkers would be accompanying him.

As the plane sped down the runway, quickly gaining enough momentum for take-off, Bradley and y/n both fiddled with their wedding rings. It was a habit they’d developed independently, ironically enough.

y/n’s ascent into the air was smooth as always. Even the most nervous passengers appreciated the light-as-a-feather feeling settling over them as y/n gently reached cruising altitude. Rooster was no stranger to his wife’s expert precision and careful handling of her aircrafts. Phoenix and Hangman were thoroughly impressed by y/n’s skill and ease.

Once the fasten seatbelt lights were turned off, the flight attendants made their way down the center aisle of the plane with snack and beverage carts. Hangman didn’t hesitate to order a double shot of whiskey, earning him an incredulous look from both Rooster and Phoenix. ”What happens on this flight, stays on this flight,” he muttered, ignoring the sting in his throat after downing a third of the glass in one go. Phoenix shrugged and ordered herself another glass of wine. Rooster rolled his eyes at both of their antics. Before he could place his own order, the flight attendant addressed him directly.

“Lieutenant Bradshaw? Captain Bradshaw has requested to see you in the cockpit.” Rooster stood up without hesitation, a wide smile on his face. Hangman’s jaw dropped, a small huff escaping his mouth and Phoenix swatted his chest. Before making the short trek to the cockpit, he bought a bag of gummy worms from the snack cart.

He gently rapped his knuckles against the door before slipping inside and shutting the door behind him. y/n didn’t hear Bradley enter the cockpit over her headset, but she instantly recognized his warm cologne. She whipped around and smiled wide at him, taking her co-pilot by surprise. The co-pilot offered to take over and y/n gladly accepted the offer.

y/n typically didn’t haphazardly hop out of her seat while piloting a massive plane with over 200 passengers, but for Bradley, she’d make an exception. She all but threw herself into his arms, sending them both stumbling back a few steps. Rooster gently pulled y/n’s headset off, careful not to mess up her neatly styled hair, before capturing her lips in a searing kiss. y/n’s co-pilot pretended not to notice, but the embarrassed blush spreading across his cheeks gave him away. When y/n pulled away to catch her breath, Bradley pulled her closer and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“How’d you know we’d be on your flight?” he asked, brushing some hair away from his wife’s face.

“I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you,” y/n teased with a wink. Rooster was no stranger to y/n’s scheming, but it typically worked out to his advantage so he could live without knowing the details.

She all but did a happy dance at 34,000 feet in the air when Bradley pulled out the pack of gummy worms he hid in his pocket. y/n had admitted on more than one occasion she often got the munchies on longer flights with only stale peanuts to hold her over. She leaned against her husband’s chest and tore into the package of sugary goodness, offering a few gummy worms to her co-pilot in exchange for him swearing to secrecy.

The plane shuddered from a brief pocket of turbulence–one that y/n would’ve handled better, Rooster thought. Bradley braced himself against the wall and pulled y/n against his body to keep her from falling.

“Do you remember the first time we were in the cockpit of a plane together?” Rooster asked with a reminiscent smile. That first experience was undoubtedly more harrowing then the current one. y/n chuckled at the memory.

“I could never forget it, honey,” y/n smiled back, pressing a kiss to his cheek before offering him a gummy worm. The couple stood comfortable in silence for a few minutes, arms wrapped around each other. With the amount of time they spent apart, every moment they got together was precious. Even if they were simply holding each other in the cramped cockpit of an airplane.

y/n’s attention was pulled away from Bradley when a warning light lit up on the dashboard, accompanied by a shrill beeping. Her co-pilot turned back to her, silently signaling that she was needed back in the pilot seat. With a heavy sigh, she untangled herself from Bradley’s arms and pressed a final peck to his lips with a promised “I’ll see you later, baby.”

Rooster watched his wife climb in her well-deserved pilot seat and slip her headset back on. She switched back to her professional demeanor with an impressive ease as she worked to remedy the dash’s highlighted issue.

He wordlessly slipped out of the cockpit and back to his seat. Hangman, who was on the brink of tipsy after his strong whiskey, lost all sense of discretion as Rooster sat back down in his seat.

“Bradshaw, you sly dog. Was the Missus excited to see you?” Hangman poked, focusing on the lipstick print adorning Rooster’s cheek. Phoenix passed Rooster a napkin with a grin of her own. Bradley rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his smile.

With just an hour left in the flight, y/n handed all the controls over to her co-pilot so she could stretch her legs. Lucky for her, her husband was seated just outside of the cockpit. Whoever booked the seats for the aviators knew what they were doing; Bradley Bradshaw was too tall for his own good, something y/n reminded him of frequently. Ironically enough, she never brought up that teasing point when she needed help reaching something around the house or when they went grocery shopping. The point is, being seated at the very front of the cabin gave Bradley sufficient room for his long legs.

y/n slipped out of the cockpit as inconspicuously as possible. She learned from past experience that passengers tended to freak out when they saw pilots, well, not piloting in the cockpit while the plane was airborne. y/n smiled softly as she took in the sight of her husband quietly snoring with his head leaned back against the chair and mouth wide open. She thought about taking a photo, but she was nearly positive Jake Seresin already had based on the devious grin on his face.

Phoenix noticed movement in the front of the cabin, her eyes eventually landing on a woman in a formal pilot uniform. Her face looked familiar. Phoenix was sure she’d seen her somewhere before. With a final squint, she realized the woman a few strides away was the same woman in all of Rooster’s locker polaroids. Mrs. Bradshaw in the flesh.

y/n offered a friendly smile to Phoenix, who seemed to have figured out who she was. Hangman was still focused on the picture he intended to eventually use for blackmail. Phoenix gently shook Rooster’s shoulder, stirring him from his nap. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes before his eyes settled on his wife.

“Good morning, Brad,” y/n cooed and reached out to grab his hand. He quickly checked his watch before pulling y/n in and kissing the back of her hand.

“Hi, baby,” he greeted with a glint in his eye. y/n chuckled, she knew he was holding himself back from calling her a smart ass while she was on the job. Hangman watched the interaction in awe. Not only did Bradshaw have a skilled pilot wife, but she was also gorgeous and witty? Jake briefly thought about asking Rooster for dating pointers.

The sleepy fog clouding Rooster’s brain cleared when he had three expectant sets of eyes on him, waiting for him to make introductions. He introduced Natasha and Jake first, citing their names and call signs, even though y/n already knew both from the stories her husband told.

“Phoenix, Hangman, this is Captain y/n Bradshaw, my wife,” Rooster finished with a warm smile. Man, he was whipped.

“Outranked by your wife, huh, Bradshaw?” Hangman jabbed harmlessly. The whiskey wore off a while ago, but Jake was always eager for an opportunity to poke fun at Rooster.

“Mmm, I outrank you as well, Lieutenant,” y/n smiled sweetly, responding without missing a beat. Phoenix chuckled and held out her hand to high-five y/n for her quick comeback. Jake was certain he heard Rooster mutter “that’s my girl,” as he looked up at his wife with a grin.

Rooster’s coworkers made small talk with y/n as she pulled her leg up behind her in a subtle stretch, using her husband’s hand to keep steady before switching sides and repeating the motion. In just the span of the few minutes y/n spent talking to Hangman and Phoenix, all of Bradley’s stories involving them made so much sense. When there was a brief lull in conversation, y/n checked her wristwatch, her eyes widening when she realized she’d been out for longer than expected.

“It was really nice to meet you guys, but I gotta get back in there,” y/n said apologetically. Hangman and Phoenix nodded in understanding, they were more than familiar with the painstaking pillar of time in aviation. Bradley gently squeezed y/n’s hand before she left, still trying to shake his nap-induced daze.

y/n turned on her heel just before reaching the cockpit door to face Bradley again.

“Are you free tonight?” y/n asked hopefully. The week-long training wasn’t scheduled to start until the following day, but she knew it wasn’t unlikely that the Navy would have Rooster busy in his spare time beforehand. His wife’s soft voice and wishful eyes were more than enough to have Bradley’s heart melting. Hell, he’d hand in his resignation as soon as the plane landed if it meant he could spend some time with y/n.

“For you? Always, baby,” Bradley smiled and winked at y/n. The captain grinned and slipped back into the cockpit, looking forward to being back on the ground with her husband.

a/n: did anyone notice the Top Gun (1986) reference 👀? anyways, i hope u liked it! pls lmk what you think, i love reading ur comments & reblogs! :)

also!! i have a bit of a prequel for how rooster & pilot!reader met in the works. i'll finish it up & post it if anyone is interested :)

#rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster imagine

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fayes-fics · 3 months

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

MASTERPOST PREV | NEXT

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

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

Word Count: 2.9k

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

Le Havre, September 1939

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

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

“Y/n y/l/n,” you smile politely.

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

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

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

“Fraudsters,” his economic response.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll be fine, seriously.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have nowhere I could stay…”

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

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

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

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

“You sound like a soldier,” you murmur.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Those being?” Benedict prompts before you can.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You would?” you stutter.

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

“I was joking, brother,” Eloise frowns.

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

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

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

Stanley.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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indigoflorals · 1 year

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Revenge (18+)

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Sum: Ex boyfriend Rafe takes what he wants from you

Warnings: Dub-Con, (if this upsets you, do not proceed), Unprotected sex, Breeding kink, choking, Forced pregnancy(if this upsets you, do not proceed)

This work has MATURE themes. If any of the above warnings upset you, please do not proceed.

𖥸

Three weeks.

It had been three weeks since you had been in the passenger seat of his truck, and being honest you didn’t think you would ever be there again.

Yet, there you were, sat beside him with his hand on your thigh and your eyes fixated on the road.

You had agreed to see him. To try and work things out. Rafe had been your very first boyfriend, your high school sweetheart. The breakup had shattered him. When you walked away, he told himself that if you every came back, he’d never let you slip through his fingers again.

The radio blasted over the silence within the truck. Neither of you had really spoken more than a few words after he had picked you up. You really weren’t even sure where you were going.

“We’re gonna stay at my place tonight. Like normal.” His fingers flexed against the fat of your thigh, tracing the skin there.

You tensed, “Nothing is normal about today Rafe.”

He only hummed in response, eyes still trained on the road.

When you arrived at Tanneyhill, the first thing you noticed was how absolutely deserted the place was. No groundskeepers, no cleaners, and especially none of Rafe’s family.

His bedroom gave you nostalgia of high school nights spent together. Nights under him and on top of him. So many memories flooded through you.

Rafe patted his lap, signaling you to come sit. “I missed having you here with me.”

You brushed off his advance, eyes wandering to the decorations hung about. Baseball trophies from high school and photos of the two of you were sprawled everywhere.

A sudden feeling came over you. A feeling to flee. This was not where you should be right now. This was your ex boyfriend for a reason, and it was time to move on. This room was filled with the best memories, but it only flooded your mine with the worst ones.

“Rafe,” You paused, eyeing the door, “I think I should go.”

In an instant his hands were on you, and he was backing you up into a wall. You were caged in by his muscular arms on either side, and a look of anger and frustration filled his face. “You’re here so we can fix things. You’re not going anywhere.”

Before you could protest, his lips were on your neck, kissing the spot only he knew you loved. Rafe was well in tune with your body, and he knew everything that made you tick.

“No Rafe,” You tried to shove him off in a futile effort, stifling a moan “We can’t.”

He only squeezed you harder in response, ignoring your pleas. His hands roamed your ass, and the familiarity of his warm palms on you lit a fire in your stomach.

In one pull, you were tossed up and onto his shoulder, “I’m just gonna have to remind you just who fucking owns you.”

“Rafe!” Your cries were muffled by his lips on yours as he tossed you onto his bed. You were undeniably wet, but in your gut you knew it was wrong.

Without breaking the kiss, Rafe pulled your shirt and bra up, exposing your breasts for him to fondle. You moaned into his mouth at the feeling of his rough and calloused fingers against your soft nipples.

Pulling away, he took one nipple into his mouth, biting softy, and you arched in pleasure and pain at the feeling. Releasing it with a ‘pop’, he flicked the other one until it perked.

You were completely unable to resist him.

“Gonna make you sure you know you’re mine. Gonna get you fucking pregnant this time.” Lust filled his eyes in a look you had never seen before. He pulled your soft shorts down, ripping the waist in the process.

Your ex truly looked like a man starved in that moment, staring at your panty covered pussy as if it was his last meal.

He wasted no time pulling himself from his shorts and pulling your panties to the side. There was no time given for you to adjust to his size, and god knows you needed it. Even in just the few weeks without him, the stretch was nearly unbearable.

“Rafe, oh fuck, it’s too much,” You cried, digging your nails into his back. He didn’t falter, only pounded into you like it was the last time he’d ever get a chance to.

A string hand came to your throat, squeezing at your windpipe. Your head was foggy now, only pleasure on your mind. “You’re gonna fucking take all of it. You can handle it.“

You could feel yourself coming undone as you strained against the hand on your neck. You squirmed intensely under him, crying out as you clenched around him.

“Cum all on my cock baby, so fucking good. Im gonna fill you up with my kids. Fucking breed you. Make you mine forever.” Rafe’s face contorted with pleasure and you felt him pulse inside of your Your eyes opened wide at his words, and you fought against him. His hand on your throat was unyielding.

He squeezed your throat one last time as he came inside of you, and your pussy fluttered at the warm feeling of his cum. “Take it all, baby. Gonna make you a mom.”

Rafe removed the hand from your neck, and you sucked in a hard breath, coughing. Tears ran down your cheeks as you stared at him.

You could feel the stickiness between your legs begin to pool, and your stomach dropped. How long would you have to get Plan B? Would he let you get Plan B? Were you even leaving here?

A hand came to caress your face softly, wiping the tears from your eyes. “You look so beautiful like this, my cum dripping out of you.”

This was not the boyfriend you knew. Not the Rafe who had taken you on beach dates in high school and made playlists of songs that reminded him of you. No, this was someone entirely différents

His hand slid to your lower stomach, and he thumbed a spot there. “Everyone will know exactly who you belong to when you’re good and pregnant with my baby. You’re mine now forever.”

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deathmetalunicorn1 · 10 months

Note

Hello it's me again! I just wanna say I am in love with your ror x child reader story because there so cuteeee

Anyway can I request a ror gods (Zeus, Poseidon, hades, Hermes, ares, Aphrodite, Heracles and Beelzebub) x child female reader

Basically the reader has a train station (she's basically the owner) that leads to Valhalla or helhaim and also the reader is the goddess of stars and travel

And she's often called the 'guiding light' because she guides people to where they go either alive or dead

But the other gods don't know what the reader looks like due to the reader not really leaving the station

But one day the gods needed the reader's help because there was a problem at Valhalla

How would they react that a child solved their problem?

The reader is very cheerful and happy-go-lucky but can also be serious and deadly

(Also can you maybe base the reader's clothes like the pic)

-Guiding Light Train Station is where everyone first arrives at following their death. It’s brightly lit, warm feeling, and runs very smoothly and quickly, with one of several trains running every ten minutes, keeping the station as empty as possible.

-The Goddess of Stars, who was also known as the goddess of travel, or the guiding light, is the station master, but looking at her, many would not believe her words to be true.

-You looked like a child, wearing a train station uniform that was way too big for you, adorable, bright and bubbly, you didn’t look like someone who would handle an operation like this for the newly dead.

-But it was true, Station Master Y/N wasn’t as well known as other gods, but while passengers were at her station, she did what she could to help them.

-Every person would go to the ticket counter, where a super advanced algorithm system would print the tickets of where someone was going to go, Valhalla, Helheim, or to a special place where souls were immediately reincarnated into new bodies. Occasionally you would have people who have tickets to Tartarus, in the pits of Helheim, but that was only for people who committed terrible things in their lives, their souls doomed forever be locked away.

-You helped the newest passengers board the correct train and disciplined the ones who tried to board other trains, like those who aren’t happy to go to Helheim try to board the Valhalla train.

-You were tiny but you sure were mighty, your strength didn’t match your petite frame as you dragged the offenders by their ears to their correct train.

-Usually, when most arrived at their destination, they forgot about you, now faced with their new destinations, and not many gods knew what you looked like, other than you were female, because you never left your station as there were always people arriving.

-You were patrolling around your station, skipping while humming before an alarm sounded and you turned instantly, looking up before running through the station, your arms out to the side before leaping up and landing in the arms of a Valhalla guard who oversaw the station with you.

-He had seen you leaping over the crowd and quickly lifted his arms to catch you before setting you down in front of the Valhalla train, which was still stationed, as it should have left several minutes ago.

-The guard saluted you and spoke, “Reports show from the travel map that the other train is still at the station in Valhalla, there is a disturbance with the track. Lord Zeus himself has sent a distress signal here for assistance.”

-You nodded, not looking at all worried, as this happened every now and then before turning, “Keep the other trains running on schedule.” He saluted you before picking you up so you were sitting on his shoulders so you could see the crowd waiting to go to Valhalla, which is the second busiest train, “Attention all passengers bound for Valhalla! We are experience technical difficulties at the Valhalla Station. Please be patient and you will be on your way soon!”

-Most weren’t bothered by having to wait, as the other trains to Helheim and Tartarus were now working double time to keep the station as low as possible.

-Your assistant set you down and you leapt down onto the track and straightened your hat, “I’ll be back!” and like a bolt of glittering lightning, you were gone, racing down the track to the Valhalla station.

-Several gods were at the Valhalla Station, as they had been called to a disturbance, a fight had broken out and had actually knocked the train off the tracks.

-Hercules and Ares had tried to put it back on the tracks, but without much luck, as it was on a magic track that they couldn’t figure out, they even called Beelzebub and Odin for their help but only Beelzebub was available, as Odin was dealing with those who had caused the fight.

-A crack of lightning interrupted any conversations as you appeared, leaping up from the track before landing in front of the other gods, “Have no fear- Station Master Y/N is here!”

-They all blinked in unison, they had no idea that you were only a child as you turned, looking at the train off the tracks, squatting on the platform next to it, “What happened?”

-Hermes spoke, being the first to shake off his shock, “A fight broke out, one that was big enough that we gods had to come down and handle it, but during the fight the train got knocked off the tracks.”

-You nodded softly before turning around, “I can fix it!” your hands were on your hips and a big grin was on your lips as you went to the front of the train, where it was against the bumpers.

-Hercules and Ares, worried for your safety, approached, not wanting you to fall, Ares speaking, “Y/N, are you sure you can fix it, Hercules and I tried but we didn’t have much luck?”

-You nodded softly while reaching out to touch the train and it instantly vanished before reappearing back on the tracks, good as new, like nothing ever happened!

-Jaws dropped all around and Aphrodite spoke, “Oh my- how did you do that?” Hercules picked you up from the bumper that you were standing on and sat you back down, “These trains are created from my magic, being the Goddess of Travel. All trains, tracks, and stations are under my control.”

-Zeus chuckled warmly, reaching down to ruffle your hair gently as your hat was in your hands now, “My-my~ it’s nice to see someone so young working so hard.”

-Your cheeks puffed up in annoyance, hands coming to your hips, “I’m not that young! I’m just small because I’m travel sized!” Ares thought you were adorable, smiling fondly down at you before Beelzebub approached, asking about your magic and how it worked.

-You spoke with a smile on your lips, “It’s domain control to put it simply, everything to do with these stations are part of my domain, and I can control them at will, I can make the trains bigger or smaller, and the same with the stations. If I will it, it will happen.”

-Hades then spoke, reaching down to pat the top of your head gently, “So you’re the one who sends all of those new souls to Helheim and the various parts of the underworld.”

-You shrugged like it was no big deal, “Well there’s humans dying all the time and they need some place to go. I keep my stations working smoothly so no accidents happen and so my station is kept clear of troublemakers, like someone coming here to Valhalla who was supposed to go to Helheim or Tartarus.”

-This made sense and you beamed brightly up at them, hurting all of their hearts, “Come by my station if you want to take a scenic train ride. I have some available for gods or those who are here in Valhalla to go sight-seeing!”

-They all thanked you, some still in shock that you were able to fix the problem so easily, and you were a child on top of it before you hopped onto the train and crawled into a seat, sitting on your knees, waving at them and Hercules, Ares, Hermes, Zeus, and Aphrodite waved at you.

-They wanted to see you again, they had no idea that there was a child goddess who was working so hard.

-Zeus turned around, looking a bit confused, “Where’s Poseidon?” they all looked around as well, finding him missing.

-You sat back on your seat and flinched as you had gotten spooked by Poseidon sitting next to you, “What kind of scenic train routes are there? I need a break from my office.”

-You beamed, kicking your legs like a child, listing off the different ones available, all of them on Earth which he originally wasn’t keen on until you pulled out your phone and showed him pictures of the different areas.

-Many were stunned to meet Poseidon as the train arrived safely back at your station and your assistant was quickly loading up the next one, getting the station emptied out again as you showed Poseidon around, showing the different platforms as you led him upstairs to where a beautiful ruby red train was waiting with large windows on both sides, allowing panoramic views of the scenery, as well as private cars.

-Poseidon wanted to go to the Swiss Alps, wanting something different than the ocean and you hooked him up by giving him a beautiful private lounge complete with a fancy three-course meal and wines of his choosing.

-He was impressed, actually thanking you before taking a seat and you tipped your hat to him, “I will see you when you arrive back, Lord Poseidon. Enjoy your excursion!”

-He heard your voice once outside, “All aboard!!” and within moments the train took off and Poseidon leaned back, a deep sigh leaving him as he relaxed, ignoring his text messages from Zeus who said he was unfair for getting to your station first.

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader #ror poseidon #ror hades #ror heracles #ror ares #ror aphrodite #ror beelzebub #ror hermes

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charminglyantiquated · 2 months

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So, I’m seriously looking into getting into tall ship sailing (waiting on follow-up from an interview rn) and I’m wondering for getting into it more long-term -

what do people do after sailing tall ships? Like, it’s a pretty physical job, and I’d assume there’s a point where your joints just can’t keep up with it.

Are there other jobs in the industry that people move to? I’m not really keen on the idea of moving up in the ship’s hierarchy- admin and being someone’s boss both aren’t really my thing. Do people retrain in completely different careers? Go back to whatever they were doing before they started sailing?

Anyway, I know your sample size might not be super large so I’d appreciate anything. Thanks a bunch!

This is hard to answer directly - on the one hand sailing tall ships is such a niche industry that there are limited pathways for straightforward advancement. But on the other hand, it overlaps with such a large number of other industries, and requires such a jack of all trades skillset - tourism, carpentry, history and preservation, hospitality, marine electronics, etc. etc. etc. - that there's a lot of ways forward for what I guess I'd call lateral advancement: moving to another job which uses most of the same skills. So there's no one answer, but if it helps, here's some things my tall ship deckhand friends have ended up doing, after no longer deckhanding tallships:

Get a captain's license and keep sailing. Captains often have it a bit easier physically (balanced out by the mental stress lol), and are paid better. Owning your own boat is optional; plenty of companies hire captains by the season to sail the boat, while the management of the company is dealt with by the actual owners. (This is what I did! I don't have the sail-hauling arms I did as a deckhand, but my knees and bank account are both in better shape).

Bosun, first mate, engineer, some other specialized non-captain crew member, usually involves licensing or other education that's useful down the road if you switch to an adjacent career

Racing yachts

Captain for hire on private vessels

Outward bound guide, other wilderness education programs

Harbor cruises, lobster tour guides, and other motor-powered tourist boats, both as captain and as crew - you have the patter and the safety skills but you don't want to deal with the hassle of sails

Water taxis, ferries and other passenger vessels

Lobstering, fishing, aquaculture, tugboats, other non-tourist waterfront industries

Marine surveyor, marine electrician, other specialized technician

Working in a shipyard - good fit for all the fit-out skills of sanding, painting, varnishing, covering and uncovering the boat

Cruise ship hostess

Train conductor (the passion for the early 1900s carried over well)

Working at a a museum focused on local maritime history

Tour guide for local buses, walking tours, etc

Boatbuilder (IYRS, Wooden Boat School)

Teaching the captain's license courses (nota bene: there were obviously some other steps between deckhand and teacher, notably ten years of being a captain in between. But this is what they settled into when they decided sailing was too physically taxing, so I want to include it).

Carpentry, house painting

Designing and selling custom made van-homes (apart from the technical skills, living on board a ship helps familiarize making use of every square inch of space)

Sailmaker

Of course there's other friends who went on to try something completely new and unrelated - I think because so many of the people who start sailing tall ships are here for something completely new in the first place, that's not an intimidating prospect so much as an exciting one. But many of them did make use of tall ship skills even when moving on from tall ships, so I hope the above list is helpful in giving a broad sense of what can follow!

#schooner bum life #i am probably forgetting some tbh #for fun. some unrelated post-sailing jobs:#artist #dog mushing in alaska #cheese making #sword maker #chocolatier #orchestra conductor #model #looking at that i think there's probably also something to be said for the confidence it takes #to pursue something you find interesting #even if it means starting from scratch #the same leap of faith that gets you on a tall ship can take you somewhere else

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agustdakasuga · 10 months

Text

The Way Of A Criminal: Chapter 5

Genre: Mafia!AU, Criminal!AU, Angst, Romance

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Normal!Reader, Gangster!Namjoon, Gangster!Seokjin, Gangster!Yoongi, Gangster!Hoseok, Gangster!Jimin, Gangster!Taehyung, Gangster!Jungkook

Summary: Your father was a stranger, you never knew who he was and what he did. But one day, someone knocks on your door, informing you of his passing. Now, you learn more about him, his life and the legacy you are expected to continue with the help of his 7 executives.

Story warning(s): This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed/gore, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking and gambling. This story is fictional and has nothing to do with real life events or the actual members of BTS. Please read at your own discretion.

Chapter warning: Incident of stalking and the topic/ threat of potential suicide is brought up.

The rest of the weekend was, thankfully, less eventful for you. You could catch up on much needed sleep and finish a ton of university work, even advance assignments that weren’t taught yet. Now you were in front of your computer, looking at university majors.

“Just pick a major, (y/n). Why are you having such a hard time?!” You scolded yourself. The ‘narrowed’ list you made was far from small, there were still too many options to choose from.

‘Bangtan Enterprise & Exchange’

You found yourself typing out on the search engine. Many articles popped up, all singing different praises and words of adoration for the organisation.

“Charity funding... Sponsorships... Donations...” You briefly read through the some of the articles that listed what your father did. There he was, a picture of your dad, standing in the middle of the 7 men that you now know about.

“Acquainted with government officials and the president. Good relations all around.” You read outloud.

Considering how well known your father was, you were surprised you had never noticed his name in the news before to connect the dots that this man was your father. There was little said about the 7 though, only that they are your father’s ‘protogés’ or ‘apprentices’, trained to take over the company after your father retires as the head.

‘Park Jimin will be representing Bangtan Enterprise & Exchange in the high stakes charity poker game. There will be many other figureheads in attendance. Winnings will go to the winner’s charity of choice.’

“Wow, they are everywhere.” Your eyes widened. The company had a stake and connection in every industry. You did so much reading, you hadn’t realised that it was dinner time.

“What should I eat?” In the end, you ordered food for pick up at a nearby restaurant since they didn’t do delivery.

“Here you go. Enjoy your food and stay safe!” The old lady gave you the plastic bag of containers. With a grateful smile and a bow, you took the food and left to go home. It was Sunday night and you really didn’t want to be out of the house.

Jimin hummed as he straightened up, twirling his keys around his fingers. He poked his head out of the alley before he emerged. He adjusted his hair and straightened his suit jacket.

“How long more are you going to check your appearance?” Hoseok drove over, stopping his car right in front of Jimin, one arm perched on the door while the other stayed on the steering wheel. Jimin rolled his eyes but walked over, sitting in the passenger seat.

“You got it?” Hoseok asked.

“Did you seriously just ask me if I got it? Of course I got it.” Jimin waved the access card in front of Hoseok’s face. Hoseok snatched it, tucking it into the back pocket of his pants.

“Now where’s my stuff?” Jimin held his hands out like a child waiting for candy. The older reached into the back seat and tossed him something.

“Thank you~” Jimin grinned triumphantly. Unlike the others, Jimin was the first one to try Hoseok’s new shipment of weapons through this deal. He looked at the new pistol with modifications made and designed by Namjoon.

“This new silencer is supposed to be better and not affect the accuracy as much. Namjoon and his team tested it for ages.” Hoseok said.

“Well, he can use it after me.” Jimin smirked, pretending to aim the gun in front of him.

RINGGGGGG

“Taehyung, why are you calling? We’re on the way home.” Hoseok asked as he drove. Jimin threw in a greeting as well.

“Hyung!! You need to go help (y/n) right now! She called me all panicked, saying that she was being followed and then her phone died! She was coming from (restaurant name) so she should be along that path!”

“Okay, Taehyung! I’ll keep you updated.” Hoseok said and hung up. He stepped on the accelerator immediately, lurching the car forward in the direction of where you lived. Jimin pursed his lips, opting not to say anything and just follow along. It wasn’t his car anyway. Hoseok used the voice navigation to find where the restaurant was.

“How are we going to know where she is exactly?” Jimin asked.

“There aren’t too many streets, it’s one path. You wanted a reason to use your new gun, right?” Hoseok stopped the car. Jimin followed alongside Hoseok as they looked for you.

“(y/n)?!” Hoseok yelled out. Jimin heard footsteps and hushed Hoseok. He leaned into an alleyway and found a masked person with a cap walking around.

“What are you looking for?” Jimin pressed the barrel of his gun to the back of the person’s head. The unknown person visibly froze in his tracks, putting his hands up. Hoseok ran forward and found you hiding.

“(y/n)...” He looked at your traumatised, scared form. You had your knees drawn to your chest.

“H-Help.” You whimpered.

“I’ve got it, hyung. Call it... target practice. I’ll come home later.” Jimin sighed. Hoseok nodded, putting his jacket over your shoulders. He put his arms under you and hoisted you up.

“I’ll see you at home. Let’s go, (y/n).” Hoseok whispered. You tucked your head against his chest and Hoseok could feel you shaking in fear in his arms. He placed you in his car but was unsure of whether he should be taking you home or back to the boys’ house.

“(y/n), listen to me. You’re safe now. That person won’t find you, they won’t come after you. They can’t hurt you.” Hoseok spoke. You nodded your head slowly, not really processing what he was really saying.

“Do you want to go to your own home? Either way, I will stay with you to make sure you are not alone.” Hoseok promised.

“Please take me somewhere safe.” You requested.

“Okay.” Hoseok made the decision to take you to their home. You would definitely be safe and protected there with all of them home. He had informed the others of the arrangement.

“We’re here.” He pulled up in the driveway. You were so far gone that you didn’t notice the scale of the estate. It was a huge mansion.

With his arm around you, Hoseok slowly guided you into the house. He tossed his keys to the valet to park for him. The others had gotten the maids ready to welcome you to the house. But they stayed away to not overwhelm you further. The maids were all kind, receiving you gently and moving you up to the guest room. You just followed their lead quietly.

“How is she?” Namjoon asked.

“Scared, traumatised. I don’t know, I just removed her from the situation. Jimin is handling the guy.” Hoseok informed, falling back onto the lounge chair with a long sigh. Yoongi handed him a glass of whiskey.

“Chim is just... gonna kill the guy. We won’t know why she was targeted in the first place.” Jin folded his arms.

“We probably know the reason why. Word spreads faster underground than above ground. This is going to be the first of many.” Jungkook rolled his eyes as he drank his beer.

“Is it that serious? So quickly?” Taehyung scratched his head.

“Come on, Tae. We have been in this world forever. People die faster than you can snap your fingers.” Yoongi said.

“Anyway, let’s keep things to a minimum now that she is here, alright? We will talk about this in the morning.” Namjoon stopped the conversation. This was too much for him, all of a sudden, to be able to process. As everyone split up, Hoseok slipped into Jin’s cave.

“Jimin got it?” Jin knew who it was without having to turn around. His fingers danced across his keyboard as he typed away.

“It’s Jimin. Of course, he got it. It’s all his effort, I was just the getaway. You’re lucky I had something to incentivise him to do the job so quickly.” Hoseok clicked his tongue as he waved the access card that Jimin obtained.

“Here.” He tossed it onto the table.

“Thanks, Hoseok. I knew I could count on Jimin... and you, I guess.” Jin said with a chuckle.

“No problem. But wait, hyung. You can hack anything, why do you need this specific access card? Looks like you can get into the system just like that.” Hoseok asked as he peeked at Jin’s screen.

“Well, in this case, the person is smart. I can crack this system easily but the creator has put a tracker on everything. Better to go in through the old fashion way, avoid suspicion.” Jin shrugged, reaching over to take a sip of his plum wine. Seeing as to how Hoseok was just snooping, Jin chased him out and locked the door behind him.

“Here. We have some clothes for you to wear comfortably.” One of the maids handed you a set of clothing. It was a pair of home shorts and a really oversized white shirt.

“T-Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Young master Hoseok said that you didn’t get to your dinner so we are bringing up a tray of hot food for you now.” She informed. You nodded your head and went to change in the bathroom.

“Have some tea in the mean time. It will help calm you down.” She handed you the mug. You took it with both hands.

“Thank you... Sorry, that has never happened to me so I guess I’m quite shaken.” You forced a smile. She shook his head, patting your back.

“Young miss. Here is your food. Please enjoy.” Another maid came in carrying a tray. She placed the tray on the small table and you sat down. The spread was luxurious.

“Don’t worry, young miss. You are safe here.”

“Do you want us to stay with you?” She offered. You shook your head with a grateful smile. With a deep bow, they retreated out of the room. You wrapped your arms around yourself. After your mum died, there was no one to hug and comfort you like she did.

Your brain was a mess, trying to find a reason as to why you would have been followed. You kept to yourself, never really interacting or making friends easily. The person could just be trying to rob you or steal your dinner.

*KNOCK KNOCK*

“Come in.” You replied. Taehyung poked his head in before walking in.

“Hey, (y/n). Are you doing okay?” Taehyung asked. You nodded your head. His eyes trailed to your tray. Your cutlery was still tucked into the napkin, a sign that you hadn’t touched your food.

“It must have been scary. But don’t worry, the guy isn’t going to bother you anymore.” Taehyung assured.

“I was worried he might follow me and know where I live, that’s why I agreed to be brought here. But the police was able to get him?” You tilted your head, relief in your voice. Taehyung nodded his head.

“Jimin handed him over to the cops after he was apprehended.” He lied.

“Thank you. Sorry for imposing and making you guys go all the way to help me when I’ve been nothing but stand offish and unfriendly.” You lowered your head. Taehyung softened slightly, looking at you. It wasn’t your fault, it was no one’s fault. He knew you couldn’t help it, it was the only way you could protect yourself when you’re alone.

“Don’t think about that now. You’ll be safe here, (y/n). I promise. You should just rest here for the night and I’ll take you home in the morning.” Taehyung said.

“Alright. Thank you again, Taehyung sshi.”

“Stop thanking us. Goodnight.” He got up and left the room. You sighed, mentally grateful for the fact that he didn’t force you to stay, even offering to take you home in the morning.

Jimin yawned as he entered the house, smoke escaping his mouth as he exhaled. He removed his blood stained sweater and tossed it onto the ground.

“Is it settled?”

“Yoongi hyung, surprised to see you awake. And yes, it is settled. It was one guy, easily handled.” Jimin greeted with a nod of his head. Yoongi hummed, swirling his drink in his glass. Jimin walked over, leaning against the bar.

“So do I get a prize for saving the damsel?” Jimin smirked. Yoongi scoffed at how Jimin treated this like a game.

“You don’t like her, do you?”

“Whether I like her or not doesn’t matter now, does it?” The younger asked back, going to pour rum into a fresh crystal glass then proceeding to take a long sip.

“Well, whatever it is, I hope you were able to take it out on the poor guy. If you don’t like her then don’t cross paths with her. She’s in the first guest room. Namjoon’s going to have us talk to her tomorrow but I’ll get you out of it.” Yoongi offered.

“Nah, I’m not a coward.” Jimin declined. He refilled Yoongi’s glass with more whiskey before refilling his own.

“You’re going to have to learn to work with her sooner or later. We all know she’s a walking target board and as frustrating and burdensome as it is, she’s our Achilles heel.” Yoongi pointed out.

“Goodnight, hyung.” Jimin left the bar area first.

When you woke up the next morning, you laid in bed for a while before loitering around the room. You were not sure what you were supposed to do, have you woken up too early or too late compared to the others that lived in the house?

*KNOCK KNOCK*

“Come in.” You dove back under the covers. It was the same maid from the night before. She poked her head in before bowing.

“Good morning, agashi. When you are ready, young master Namjoon has called for you to join them for breakfast. I have some clothes here for you.” She held the folded clothes in her hands. You nodded your head and got up to go brush your teeth. When you came out, the curtains had been drawn, the uneaten food cleared and the bed was made.

“I will be outside to take you to the dining room after you’ve changed. Please take your time.” She put her hands together and bowed again then retreated out of the room.

“Alright then.” You changed into the short sleeve white button up blouse and skirt that was prepared, simple but elegant in its own way.

“I’m ready. Thank you for waiting.” You came out, running your fingers through your hair once more.

“Right this way.” She gestured and started walking.

“This house is huge. Very easy to get lost without a guide.” You commented, looking at all the doors you walked past. The maid nodded in agreement with a giggle. You followed her down the grand staircase.

“The young masters that are awake are having their meal now.” The maid said, opening the french doors for you to enter the dining room.

“Good morning, (y/n).” Namjoon smiled.

“Good morning.” You bowed your head shyly and stepped in. The maid was behind you, closing the doors and leading you to your seat at the dining table. The butler pulled the chair out for you to sit down. You sat beside Namjoon, trying not to maintain eye contact with anyone at the table.

“A drink to start, agashi? We have tea, coffee, juices.” The butler offered.

“I’ll have a coffee, please. Umm... A cappuccino.” You ordered randomly. It wasn’t your more usual drink but you didn’t want to be an inconvenience. This was already all too much for you.

“I hope you slept well.” Taehyung smiled.

“I did... Thank you.” You spoke softly. The butler came and placed the breakfast tray in front of you.

“Thank you for the food.” You were still speaking softly, hoping that despite that, the butler could hear your gratefulness. You picked up your chopsticks and dug into the food. It was light and delicious, just what you needed.

The breakfast strangely felt normal. The boys chatted amongst themselves, normal chat, nothing really out of the normal. You guessed it was because they were still tired. You didn’t feel the right or need to participate in their chatter, focusing on the food on the tray in front of you. You wanted to just keep to yourself and avoid contact.

“(y/n), can we talk in the living room?” Taehyung requested when you were done with breakfast. You nodded your head, following behind them.

“Go wake Jimin, Jungkook and Hoseok.” Jin ordered the butler. He nodded with a bow and retreated upstairs to the bedrooms. You twiddled your thumbs as you waited.

“Morning.” Hoseok yawned as he walked over. Jungkook and Jimin sleepily shuffled over.

“Thank you again for last night. Really.” You stood up to bow to Hoseok and Jimin. You still didn’t really know all their names but you still felt the need to express your gratitude. The two blinked, unsure of how to react.

“(y/n), unfortunately, we believe that you were targeted for a reason last night. We’re unsure of why but if someone is really after you, they’re not going to stop.” Namjoon explained.

“I’m in danger?”

“Luckily Hoseok and Jimin could get to you in time. But it’s serious and we want to make sure you’re safe.” He continued. You nodded your head.

“We’ve discussed as brothers... We don’t want to force you into anything. But we know that we need to get along with one another. The other roles and responsibilities, the future of all of this, we can think about that later. We just take it one step at a time.” Another spoke.

“Why is someone out to get me? I don’t know anything? This... All this isn’t me. I keep to myself, I don’t make enemies. Why is this happening?” You started to freak out.

“(y/n), calm down. Breathe. You’re going to have a panic attack.”

“I’ve always been alone, on my own. Everything I’ve done, it was only ever for my mother and myself.” You held your head.

“You don’t have to be alone and shoulder everything on your own anymore, (y/n).” Taehyung said.

“I only agreed to go to the funeral because I thought I was honouring a dead man’s wish. If I had known, by showing my face, that it was a trip to an early grave, I would have killed myself when my mother died.” You said.

“This would have happened sooner or later, (y/n). Whether you showed up at the funeral of not. I’m sorry, we know that this is a lot to take in at one time.” Jin spoke cautiously.

“I didn’t ask for this-”

“You think we asked for any of this? All we’ve been doing is chasing after you, having to coddle you, ‘adjust’ to you. While doing all that, did you think we’ve had the chance to mourn? No because it’s all about you and how this is unfair to you.” Jimin finally spoke, letting all his frustration pour out.

“Jimin. Leave, now.” Namjoon stood up, his voice grew serious as his ordered the younger male. Jimin rolled his eyes but stormed out of the living room. You pursed your lips.

“Please... I want to go home.” You begged.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months

Text

The Detour 1

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

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

Characters: Thor

Summary: You find yourself stranded in a small village.

Part of the Backwoods AU

Note: So this is an idea I had for a while but I just know I wouldn't get to do it full length for chapters but I hope it's fun.

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

You watch the green landscape pass outside the window. The tow truck rattles, almost to a concerning degree, as it chuffs down the winding country road. The driver, a man who calls himself Vol, sings along loudly to the radio as you make yourself small in the passenger seat.

This isn’t how you saw your road trip going. You don’t understand why something always has to go wrong. Even with your utmost efforts, there’s always some hitch.

You go over it all in your head. An oil change, standard check-up, some adjustments. All that on a nearly new model and you still ended up stranded. A flat tire but you don’t have a spare. The man promises one back at his shop.

Whatever it costs, you don’t care. You’re annoyed at the time spent on this ridiculous mishap. It does seem to occur often that each time you attempt to do something for yourself, that there must be some disaster. It’s why you haven’t tried anything of the sort in years.

You look in the mirror and see the edge of your car strapped to the bed of the truck. You should’ve done the train. The view along the cross country rail is allegedly quite resplendent but you didn’t like the idea of having to abide by a schedule not your own. Once again, your stubbornness nips you in the rear.

The man slaps the steering wheel along to the beat of the music. You don’t mind the song, it’s considered a classic of the genre, but does it need to be so loud? You cross your arms and huff, the noise of your displeasure drowned out by the crackling speakers.

Country houses stand on hills and fields sprawl with freshly sowed fields. You try to imagine a life here, away from the bustling furor of the city. That thought makes your chest want to collapse. You couldn’t do it. You are urban to the core.

As you come to the heart of the village, the houses are placed closer but not clustered. Only along the sparse row of their ‘downtown’ do buildings dare to touch. It’s after five and the shops are all closed for the day.

“Garage is just behind Mary’s place,” the man turns down the radio, “we’ll get a better look at the damage.” He assures you, peeking at you in the rear view, “these old country roads aren’t meant for speeding.”

“I wasn’t…” you cut yourself off. You won’t argue. You just want a new tire, “right, thank you.”

He chuckles, nonplussed by your curtness. He steers around another long bend in the road. Why must everything be so tedious and slow? He shuttles up to a bright red structure that resembles a barn. Across the moniker, hand painted nonetheless, is the name Volstagg’s. He flips the stick to park and kills the engine.

“Here,” he proclaims, pausing as his eyes pinpoint through the windshield, “ah, of course.”

He clicks his seat belt and lets it repel. He swings open the door so violently it shakes the entire vehicle. You furrow your brow as he hops down and hollers. What on earth is he doing?

“...working. What d’you want?” Is all you catch through his chortling grit.

“Good to see you too, friend,” another voice counters, even deeper and smooth like silk. Great, another of the village folk.

You undo your seat belt and check your reflection in the side mirror. You open the door and plant your heel on the little metal step below the door. You let yourself down but stumble at the still jarring height of the truck cabin. You cling to the door as you gain your balance.

You shut it with a creak and a clang. Your soles mulch in the dusty gravel as you follow the voices. You clear your throat, facing the men chattering on the other side of the truck. You bring your hands to your hips in a show of your irritation.

“Hullo,” you sneer, “my tire, sir.”

The bearded redhead, Vol, and his companion, a blond even taller and blonder, look over at you with curious expressions. Their faces tint from surprised to amused. You want to roll your eyes. Your stature rarely affords you dignity.

“Yes, ma’am,” the redhead shows his large palm apologetically, “forgive me,” he faces the other man, “as you see, I have work to do.”

“So I see,” the other man drawls, his gaze stuck on you, “you are visiting Hammer Ford?”

You curl your lip, “never. Passing through,” you turn and stride away, towards the front of the building as Vol gets back in his truck.

The blond jogs in front of the high bumper, waving at the driver, as he crosses over to you. You keep your back to him as you strut up the edge of the dirt lot. You try to ignore him as you watch the mechanic angle around to bring your car along the front of the garage, steering the bed towards the doors.

“Passing through. On your way to…?”

“None of your concern,” you sniff, “I only need a new tire and I’ll be gone.”

“Ah, that’s too bad. This is a lovely village. Quaint. You might like it here,” he muses, “a woman like yourself, you might find it novel.”

“A woman like me?” You challenge, facing him at last, well, facing his torso. You look up, “how am I like, sir?”

“Well, from the city presumably,” he tosses back as if mocking your tone, “city folk tend to endear themselves to the quiet here.”

“Mmm,” you accept with a purse of your lips, “I’ll be off as soon as my tire is fixed. I have more important places to be.”

“Fair,” he shrugs, “you do seem rather… important.” He emphasizes the last word, echoing your own statement. You squint and turn away again. You’ll be gone soon enough.

“Vol,” he spins with a holler, bounding off to bother the other man as he works at placing the loading ramps against the truck bed, “before I go…”

His voice trails off as he claps the other man’s shoulder, his volume dropping notably. You slowly drag your heels towards them, receiving another glimpse from the blond’s sea blue eyes. He smirks before he releases his comrade from his bearlike grasp.

“Good day, lady,” he bows his head in exaggerated gallantry, “not to worry, Volstagg always takes special care of the pretty ones.”

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

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