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buckyalpine · 11 months

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Needy Dark!Bucky

Feel like I should issue a warning for this - PLS scroll all the way past this if this isn’t your thing. Maybe this should have stayed in the drafts or be deleted. But I can’t help the absolute headlock, deception, corruption, dub con, mommy and innocence kink has on me rn.

This is fucked and dirty.

Heed the warnings.

Please.

Imagine dark!Bucky taking advantage of your sweetness. You’re so soft and kind with him, helping him adjust to the new world, hardly realizing he’s damn well adjusted already and doesn’t need anyone to baby him.

But he loves when you do.

Maybe it’s because of all the shit he’s been through, touch starved, deprived of care and softness, that’s how he justifies the need to be utterly babied and taken care of by you. Fuck you’re so soft when you do it, cooing and walking him through everything, as if he doesn’t know a thing, he’s poor little fried brain.

It started with him pouting at dinner, happy to have you feed him instead. Sometimes you help him wash his hair so the shampoo doesn’t sting his eyes, sitting on the edge of the tub with a bowl of water, not minding one bit your clothes would get wet in the process. You even hold him in his sleep like a little boy because his nightmares are so scary.

He’d taken to calling you mommy when no one else was around.

But then he wanted more.

So much more.

“Mommy, it’s hard” he frowns with puppy eyes, standing at the doorway in just his boxer briefs', hair still dripping from the shower. His cock is straining against the fabric from the way you had massaged his scalp and gently rinsed with conditioner; the entire time you helped him, he wanted to pull your hand off his head and have you shove them down his shorts.

“Aww, Jamie” You don’t want him to feel embarrassed over something natural, getting up and taking his hand, sitting him down on the bed, “it’s normal baby, are you feeling little right now?”

Daddy is feeling a lot of things, mommy

You’d noticed he’d slip into a different headspace when it was just you and him though you didn’t mind. He deserved a safe place to heal and relearn everything in a way that helped him.

How he loved it.

“A little” he shrugs, “Why is it hard?” He asks innocently, palming himself, whimpering at the feeling, spreading his legs more. He lets out a surprised moan when his hand brushes over his clothed cockhead, feigning innocence, touching himself there more at the foreign sensation.

“Help me mommy” he takes your hand, placing it on his raging cock, “Please? Hurts, how do I make it normal”

“Um-” You bit your lip, unsure of how to answer his questions while he continued to confusedly touch himself, rubbing his erection. “You-

“It’s getting harder, why is my thinggy so hard”

Go on mama, tell me why my cock is so fucking hard

“It happens sometimes baby, it’s normal though” You cup his cheek trying to comfort and reassure him. That isn’t enough for him though.

“What-what do I call it?” He pouts, smirking on the inside, proud of his fat fucking cock that hes imagined in your hand, your mouth, your tight little pussy-

“How about we just call it your special spot for now, hm?” You rub the side of his thigh to see if helps ease him but his cock twitches instead, thigh muscles tensed under your finger tips.

Wonder what you’d actually call it, come play with my special spot, mommy

“Mommy, its getting wet” He looked like he’s going to cry and you can’t help but want to help him in some way, hushing him gently.

“Okay, let me see baby” You sit across from him between his wide spread legs. He slips his thumbs into the waistband of his brief's, just enough to free his cock, his thick curved length slapping against his tummy. He pouts again, looking down at the leaky pink tip, his balls full and heavy, every part of him wishing he could just stuff himself into your cunt but he has to do this carefully.

He’d get that eventually.

After all, you’d never deny your baby boy.

“Mommy is going to help you, okay?” You carefully wrap your hand around his shaft, stroking his cock up and down, focused on taking care of him, not once noticing the dark gaze he has on you while you work at his length. “You okay, Jamie?”

“It’s all tingly, it feels good mommy” His cheeks are flushed, hips every so slightly rocking up into your hand, meeting your strokes. He only lets out soft little whimpers and babbles but his mind is screaming everything else.

That’s it mama, stroke my fucking cock.

Jerk my dick, get all my cum out, balls are so heavy right now

Would paint that pretty face if I could, you’d look gorgeous covered in my cum

What daddy wouldn’t give to have you slobber and suck his “special spot”

Bet your cunt is tight as fuck, wish you were a slut sometimes mommy, I’ll make you a whore soon

“I- I feel something” he pants out, pearls of precum beading at the tip, dribbling down over your fingers. You avoid stroking him too fast or hard, not wanting to overstimulate him, avoiding the tip of his cock. “It’s getting so wet, I’m making a mess” He looks down at the head of his cock with glassy eyes, another dribble of silky liquid coating your fingers.

“You’re gonna be sensitive there baby, it’s okay, that’s just how your special spot is support to be, okay?”

“Touch- can you touch the pink part?” He whispers shyly, letting out a high pitched white when you twist your wrist around his glistening cockhead, “Don’t stop, keep touching me there” He pleads and you shift closer to him, cooing while he squirms. He takes advantage of how close you are to him, pulling you to his side and hiding his face against your neck.

“Mommy, it feels good, I feel something-I-it feels heavy down there-” He lets his hand go down to his balls, tugging at them, sighing happily when you pull his hand away and gently cup them instead, softy massaging them with just the right pressure.

“You can let it all out, let go Jamie, it’s okay, let it all out” You start to stroke him faster, more focused on the tip just like he asked, kissing his temple while he continues to shy away from you.

“Let it out?” He pulls away and gives you a confused expression, seemingly not understanding, his body still thrusting into your hand while you grip him a little harder.

“There’s gonna be lots of stuff that comes out, okay? It’ll help you feel better, I’ll clean you right up after baby, just let it all out”

Damn right m’gonna cum hard for you, babydoll, not gonna hold back a single drop

He moans against your neck, body covered in sweat, rutting into your hand while you twist around the tip, his cock growing harder.

“AH-MOMMY!” He practically wails, cum shooting out in hot white streams, his whole body shuddering and trembling, and endless stream of his cream getting the dark curls at the base of his cock all wet and messy. “OH MOMMMY-it’s -it’s so much” You whisper sweet nothings to him, telling him he was so good, carefully removing your hand, letting his throbbing length slap against his belly.

He knows he already got what he wanted but he can’t help himself, wanting just a bit more, putting his sweet pout back on, looking at you with teary eyes.

“Kiss it better?” He’s tugging you close again, bucking his hips up a little to where he wants attention, “Please” He pleads, his softening cock still dripping with cum.

C’mon mommy, lick me up, just suck it a little

You know how needy he can get, and your heart hurts thinking about how different his body must be feeling, overwhelmed and overstimulated. You hush him again with a kiss to his forehead before moving down to give him affection where he needed it. His eyes grow wide, biting back a smirk, gripping the sheets to make sure he didn’t shove your head down.

“Oh kiss it better mommy” He moans, back arching off the bed when your soft lips brush on top of his tip, pecking the sweetest comforting kiss on his frenulum, making his body jolt.

Just put it in your mouth

“Can-can you do it again?” He asks innocently, chewing his bottom lip raw.

“Just one more, then I have to clean you up” You place a firm kiss onto his now spent cock, before getting up and wiping him down, letting him spend the night cuddled to your chest. At some point, he asks to nurse and you can’t tell him no. He doesn’t waste a second taking your top off and latching onto your nipple, hitching his leg over you while his lips suckle.

Sometimes you have a feeling in the back of your mind, wondering if he truly has no clue what’s happening. Then he looks at you with such innocence, there’s no way, not with those baby blue eyes and sweet pouty pink lips.

How could you ever doubt him.

On the other hand, imagine one day he catches you in an intimate moment with your hands between your legs, not realizing he was still home. He goes feral on the inside but on the outside, he’s just a lost puppy who wants to know what your doing. You struggle to explain to him what was happening, not catching the flash of hunger that he’s struggling to hide while you’re now wrapped up in your sheet to cover yourself.

All he knows is mommy was feeling like he was that day and had to take care of her private special spot too. With that cute button he’d love to suck.

Should’ve asked me mommy, if only you knew how good my fingers are

“It looks like my thinggy” He points out to your toy, which you snatch away and feel your body heating up further. “Mommy, can I put my special spot inside yours?” He doesn’t give you a lot of room to protest, pleading with you, showing you how hard he is again.

He starts off with begging, rutting himself against you, humping you like an animal while you try to soothe him but it doesn’t work. He’s thrown his clothes off lying top of you with his bare cock against your folds, desperately rubbing himself, wanting to push it in.

“Just the pink part, please, I need it, wanna empty everything, it’s leaking mommy”

You don’t know how or when but at some point he presses his tip into you and shoves his entire length all at once, moaning loudly and thrusting without a care in the world. You’re body and might screams that something isn’t right, unable to stop the moans that slip out of you when he hits your cunt just right, pleasure trying to drown you from reality.

Imagine the utter filth that spills from his mouth after while your blood runs cold, realizing something doesn’t add up.

“Mommy, your special spot feels so good, so good, so. fucking. good”

“I wanna fuck you all night mommy, your pussy is perfect”

“I touched myself thinking about you and how you stroked my dick baby, wished you would’ve just sucked my cum out instead.

“Oh fuck, you’re tight, choking my cock baby, make me wanna bust in you so bad”

“J-James?” You whisper, eyes growing wide, how the fuck did he know those words, what was happening. Bucky loses himself in how good you feel, no longer giving a fuck. “What-what are you saying-”

“It’s Jamie” He lets out a dark chuckle, mocking your sweet tone, dropping the act, now that he’s deep in your cunt. “Your Jamie’s cock”

“Cock?”

“Yeah, cock mama, my cock in your little special spot”

Bruh I’m so sorry tf is wrong with me 💀

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sanjisblackasswife · 1 year

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Working on all my November /October drafts before tumblr deletes em🤦🏽‍♀️ enjoy baby💓 i also added luffy because edging him would be so fun :)

Edging Monster Trio + Kidd (NSFW)

Black Fem Reader in Mind

Cw: …sex bro its sex

Zoro

2nd biggest brat of the four.

Zoro is a naturally easily flustered boy. Just a single compliment from you and he’s already red in the face.

But poor baby he tries so hard to mask it. It’s almost like he turns into a literal brat when you edge him on.

“Why—why do you want to hear me beg, are you some kinda sadist?”

“Lil bit.”

“WHAT—“

Edging Zoro is a treat because he would rather bite his lip until he bleeds before blessing your ears with his whimpers and begging

But you knew Zoro would be difficult so you made a bet. And in this bet he loss and that’s how he got here:

Strapped on your chair, naked, with you riding his thigh with a vibrator in your hand.

“What the—hell is your problem!”

You could hear the strain in his voice. Zoro’s chest and face are so red, but not as red as his cock right now. Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead, he was looking at the wall and everything else, but you, and it made you upset, he couldn’t seem to want to look at you, being a little brat he was you grabbed his wet cheeks, mushing it together a little, forcing him to look at you.

“Hey…”You nod at him a little, he begins to huff and breathe through his nose, chest rising and lowering quickly almost as if he were struggling to catch his breathe, you smile, “focus on me…”

Nothing could compare to the shock shown in Zoro's eyes, it brought a chill down his spine to see you turn your demeanor in such a 180, and yet...he couldn't be more turned on.

"Ple-"

Your eyebrows rise, it's been 15 minutes of consistent moving the vibrator on his cock and pulling it away, yes Zoro can have amazing self discipline, but you knew just how to push the envelope.

"Say it.."

"Fuck.." Zoro puffed out, head tried hanging low, but you picked it back up with one hand , while pressing the toy back on his leaking tip, precum now falling over the head of the vibrator. "...please..please let me fucking cum."

You almost felt bad for being so mean, you knew from his blushed chest and face, the way his thigh twitched under you cunt, and how a moan slipped through his teeth he was at his limit, but if he wasn't such a stubborn little asshole maybe he would have came sooner.

Luckily, you're not too mean and you let him do just that making a sticky mess on not only his abs but your hand as well.

Kid

Biggest brat.

Most annoying brat

First off good luck trynna convince him and good luck trynna get him to beg

"Fuck you and that idea."

Edging Kid just...won't happen... not unless you are on top...possibly.

"Keep--fucking going dammit!"

"No."

You have spent 30 minutes trying to break this asshole and he finally started to whine just a little when you started to grind yourself on his cock just how he likes before cumming and stopped. Now, it's time to edge him.

"I'll never fucking beg for you."

"Then I guess you'll never fucking cum now will you.."

Kid is usually the type to call your bluff, he has done it plenty times in the past, but tonight you were tired. You were tired of his bullshit and trying to tell you what to do and that glint in your eye showed him you weren't playing around with him anymore.

Pressing your body against his your lips latched to his weak spot as you lazily humped his dick, damn your ass felt good slapping against his thigh he couldn't keep himself from biting his wet lips.

"Sssssshittt!" Kid got choked up, his lips began to part, eye furrowed focusing on cumming since he was so so close as you nibbled and licked on his neck, but alas, you knew his body like the back of your head so you move away, causing him to curse again.

"Say. Please."

"Fuck. You."

His voice was quivering when he said thta, you sigh, sure you were close to an orgasm as well, but you set your pleasure aside to show him you meant what you said.

And that's exactly why after 2 more times of stopping him from realsing inside you he broke, "Ple...please...make me cum..."

Sanji

Swears he hates it but he just cant get enough.

"Aah! W-wait wait wait wait wait! Sssssshhiit Y/N babe!-"

Fuck his moans were some of the sluttiest things you could hear from a man like him, he whines so much you almost wanted to give in and slide yourself on top of him, his voice alone made you so wet all by itself you kept rubbing your thighs, clenching over nothing when you heard him cry out beside you

"You're not ganna give up so easily are you? My pretty boy isn't THAT weak to temptation is he?..you already failed earlier, here's your second chance to show me you can handle this.."

His fingers were nearly ripping through your sheets, looking down to see you slowly push his black shirt higher over his chest, his underwear to his ankles and your pretty small hands around his throbbing cock, it was a sight to see as he laid uncomfortably still watching you pump so vigorously, just to stop all together.

Your breast now stained from prior, he came way too fast and way too easily when you rubbed his slit with your thumb.

"Y/N...baby...I--ah!"

Yes, you want to hear him beg, but it was more fun hearing him whimper, your hand was gliding against his wet shaft, using his cum as lube as you suckled his nipple, it was all too much for Sanji to take and feeling you stop him from cumming again, he started to get choked up, tears falling from his eyes

"Please!" He coughed, "pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease, let me cum for you please!"

Ugh. You really had a soft spot for this pervert. His cheeks were so wet and pink you kiss his lips passionately as if your were apologizing for being so mean.

Not parting your lips from him you flew your leg over him, pulling away slowly to let him watch you sink down on his cock, sharing such a slutty moan together, "Yes! Yes thank you, baby thank you I love youiloveyou i love--aahhh mmmmfuck!"

You let him thrust himself up into you, holding on to his shoulders as his tear stained face was mushed against your soon to be sucked on breast, still moaning into your skin about how good you feel and how much he loves you.

Luffy

Has no patience for it HOWEVER he enjoys it???

As you pop off from sucking his cock his body jerks up, a broken moan turns into laughter from him and it oddly enough turns you on.

"C-common! ahaha! Keep suckinggggg!"

"Say please first!" You both share a giggle, this was supposed to be where he begs and cries for more, but instead he's making it fun for the both of you.

"M' not saying please.." He then crossed his arms and pouted, but his little childish attitude was cut short when you spit on his pretty brown tip and swirled your hand on it, it was almost as if his eyes started to twinkle as his cheeks blushed stubly, "Y/Nnnnnnnnnn...ah.."

Luffy's moans got very scratchy and whiney when it came him him close to cumming, he began to raise his hips and grind them against your hand to push you to--

"Put your mouth back on itttttttt commonnnnn! I put my mouth on you!"

"Lufffyyyyy.." Your voice sounded playful as you moved his hips back down, "Say please first."

"Uh uh." He shook his head, "Suck it first."

"Then no."

You knew how to get him to do what you want, granted you didn't want to take such drastic measures but you were sick of him being a little impatient baby so with your opposite hand you pull his chin in for a kiss, it was soft and sweet, until Luffy grabbed your head to lower it back on his dick, "Stop itt!!!"

"Suck it--ah! Fuck!"

You cupped his balls, massaging them, immediately noticing his eye shut tightly gripping the covers beside him on your bed, he broke out into a soft moan, he hated when you touched his so so so sensitive--

"Stop touching down there...PLEASE JUST SUCK--op." Luffy quickly covered his mouth realizing what he said and it made you smile a little. "No! No! I didn't say please!"

"yes you did.."

"NU UH I--OH!"

You just shut your pretty flustered captain up by moving your head back down to take all of his cock back in your mouth.

"M-maybe I did saaaay it." Luffy voice kept stuttering watching you wink at him bopping your head up and down.

Dammit he was so cute like this.

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ussgallifrey · 4 months

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Home for the Holiday | Part 3

✦ Summary: Never let it be said that you weren’t willing to do just about anything for your squadron. As you find yourself roped into an elaborate ruse to help fool Hangman’s mother for Christmas all seems to be going according to plan. But when that plan spirals out of control, the line between real and pretend begins to blur.

✦ Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Female Reader

✦ Warnings: Anxiety, arguments, fake dating, hurt/comfort, Jake’s family being fake and generally awful towards him, mentions of divorce, mentions of past abuse, minor angst.

✦ Word Count: 9.9k

✦ Author’s Note: Hi, has it been over a year since I posted anything for this story? It must be a Christmas miracle! Anyway, this one has been sitting in my drafts for a very long time, slowly getting added to every few months. And here we come to the end of Jake's annoying family. The next two chapters will be decidedly happier, I promise.

[Master List]

You’re woken neither by your own internal clock nor the backup alarm on your phone but by the irritated slamming of something across the hotel room. It takes you a second to properly assess the sound as being of the non-dream variety. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you push up onto your elbow to stare into the unsettled darkness.

The golden light from the bathroom spills out into the entryway where a shirtless Hangman seems to be fighting a losing battle with the foldup ironing board.

“You good?” you call out, voice still hoarse with sleep.

His eyes snap up to meet yours, mustering out an almost guilty, “Shit, sorry Pits.”

You wave him off, sitting up properly - the white sheets spilling over your thighs.

The bedside clock informs you that it’s still early in the morning, though not unreasonably so. He had told you the drive to his father’s place would take a while, so it made sense for him to be up at this hour but less so for whatever the hell he was trying to accomplish across the room.

Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, scratching at the back of your neck as you pad your way over to find out.

“What’s with the iron?”

There’s a seafoam green shirt on the board with a plugged-in iron on its end, that much you can see.

“Damn thing won’t turn on,” he flicks the buttons on the iron up and down, on and off.

Quirking your brow, “You know it takes time to heat up, yeah?”

He pauses, fixing you with an exasperated look, “Fifteen minutes enough for you?”

Throwing your hands up in a defensive hold, you take a step back.

“Shit. Look, I’m not trying to be a total ass here. Just, I didn’t exactly go packing a lot of options and I can’t go wearing what I did yesterday because Josh saw it already - ”

“Got it.”

He sighs in defeat, grabbing hold of the shirt. Giving it a good flap, you can see the clear wrinkles on the front.

For a lazy day in, the shirt would be fine. But this was a family get-together and Jake Seresin was a naval officer. His closet was likely similar to your own when it came to precision-pressed and properly hung items. Wearing this shirt, the way it was, would not fly.

“Well, before you go complain to the front desk - give it here, and let me try something.”

His own brow rises but he ultimately hands it over by the scruff of the collar. Swiping up your toiletry bag, you head into the bathroom, looking over your shoulder to give him a small smile.

“Let’s see if the magic of steam can’t work a miracle on this.”

His features drop in a way that says he hadn’t even considered that as an option before he grins, “Here’s hoping.”

After hanging the shirt on the towel bar, you take an extra long and heated shower. Letting the water massage your back and shoulders with its pressure. You certainly missed the little things like this when you were aboard the carrier. Uninterrupted, hot, lengthy showers where you didn’t feel like it might be a biohazard to touch any surface.

No, this was nice.

And when you step out of the tub and wrap a towel around your middle, you crack the door open to inform Jake that his shirt is just about good to go.

“But I can hit it with the hair dryer still. We got time, right?”

He hums in reply from the other side of the room, though you can’t see him.

Turning on the exhaust fan, you wipe down the steam-covered mirror with a hand towel and go about finishing your routine. Making sure your feet are actually dry, you step back into the room - walking over to your bag in search of another outfit.

Jake had pushed aside the blackout curtains in your absence, filling the room with natural light. He’s sat on the edge of his bed again, but now he has a plain white tank on to go with his jeans. You can hear the faintest clearing of his throat, making you look back at him.

His gaze drifts down your back for a second before he seems to busy himself with his phone again.

“I’m guessing this one is a little more casual?” you ask, pulling out three different shirts.

“Mmm, yeah,” he clears his throat again with a cough, glancing over towards the bathroom.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll get your shirt out in a minute. I’m just letting the steam work its last bit of magic on it.”

His eyes finally meet yours and he frowns slightly, “I wasn’t - y-yeah… okay.”

And then it seems to dawn on you: you were only wearing a towel.

And while it might be common for the guys of your squadron to walk around shirtless in the gym, or when they were changing out of sweaty flight gear, it wasn’t exactly a frequent occurrence for you to be seen in anything but your usual navy-issued tank and shorts. And while Hangman himself had been in nothing more than a towel yesterday morning, during the rush to get ready, that seemed like an entirely different situation to your own.

Your heart races as you become aware of just how exposed you are right now.

Grabbing hold of your entire bag and muttering out an embarrassed: “Sorry, I’ll just - ” as you hurriedly flee back into the bathroom.

Hangman, for his part, seems too stunned to even form a reply and you can’t exactly blame him.

Jesus, what were you thinking? You might be comfortable around your squadron but nothing over the past two days had elicited that level of comfort between the two of you.

Taking far longer than necessary to choose an outfit and get dressed, you’re slow and methodical about your hair and makeup this time too. Only when your nerves have settled down from the encounter, do you finally grab his shirt and return to the room.

“Well, what do you think?”

You hold the shirt up for him to examine. He nods, standing from his spot on the bed to take hold of it by the shoulders.

“Thank you.”

You just nod, tight-lipped, as you go about putting your bag away in its rightful spot. Jake tugs his arms through the sleeves before heading over to the full-length mirror by the front door. You watch as he methodically rolls the sleeves up to his elbows, creasing the cuff perfectly each time. When he’s done, he twists his watch around - back and forth, a few times.

And then he clears his throat, looking over towards you as you slip on your boots.

“You look good, by the way.”

Slowly, your eyes meet his and you offer him a gentle smile.

“Not too shabby yourself, Bagman.”

He ducks his head down for a second, grinning all the same. But then he’s glancing down at his watch and frowning again, patting his front and back pockets as he checks his EDC.

“You ready to go?”

Rising from the desk chair, you fix him with a questioning look, “Are you?”

With a smirk, he shakes his head. Offering an honest, “No.”

Jake holds the door open for you as you leave the room, heading down to the stairwell. You make an off-hand comment about it not being the way to the free dine-in breakfast. But he just keeps walking and eventually, you're in the parking lot. Slipping into the passenger side of the rental car, you watch as he adjusts the rearview mirror and his own seat.

Before he even starts the ignition, he looks over at you, “Hungry?”

“Well, someone wouldn’t let us go down to the lobby for breakfast.”

“Ha,” he chuckles. “Come on, I know a better place.”

Raising your brow as you buckle your seatbelt you say, “I’m intrigued.”

Hangman just grins, grabbing hold of the back of your seat as he backs out of the parking spot.

You're not sure what you expected, but when Jake pulls into a busy Sunoco gas station ten minutes later, you can't help but raise your brow skeptically at him.

“Trust me,” he grins - all teeth - as he snags his aviators from his shirt collar.

“Tell me they have the best donuts around at least,” you call, following him out of the car.

He had parked off to the side, away from the entrance of the food mart. Digging his hands into his jean pockets, he waits for you to meet him on the sidewalk in front of the hood of the rental car.

Grinning with all the smugness of a higher power, he nudges your arm with his elbow and leads the way. Avoiding the building entirely, which makes you even more curious. The two of you round the other side of the gas station where the smell of smoked meat and spice fills the air.

There are two food trucks, a yellow tear-drop-shaped repurposed camper, and a smaller red build. Each has its own canvas tent with tables and chairs set up underneath. Fancy chalkboard signs bring the promise of amazing food as do the long-stretched lines outside of them both.

“Okay,” you admit, “You had me concerned for a second there.”

He chuckles, getting into the yellow truck's line, “Gotta keep you on your toes, sweetheart. Anyway, I wanted to give you the chance of having an Austin staple.”

Well, if the menu wasn't enticing enough for you, then the smell certainly was. You find yourself nearly floating along the line with Jake. After ordering, you grab an empty picnic table to yourselves and proceed to dig into the absolutely massive breakfast burritos.

“Have you eaten here before?” you ask after swallowing another absolutely sinful bite.

“No, actually,” he wipes his mouth with another napkin. “This place didn't exist until two years back. Found it online when you were, uh, getting ready.”

Your chest aches as you recall the awkward encounter from this morning. Slowing your chewing, you manage out a pinched, "Well, god bless online reviews. This is incredible."

After another bite, you rub your lips with the back of your hand, glancing across to meet his gaze - his sunglasses remain folded on the table now, so you're able to see the green of his eyes once again.

“I mean it,” you swallow. “This might be the best breakfast I've ever had.”

He stares for a moment, swallowing his own bite before a slow smile graces his lips.

“Better not let your momma hear you talking like that.”

You laugh, “I'm sure she'd understand.”

Jake gives a warm chuckle, shaking his head, “Hell, think you know more about my family than I do about yours at this point. Not even sure I can remember you ever talking about them.”

Setting the burrito down carefully in the foil wrapper, you contemplate his small accusation. While you had certainly heard your fill of just about everyone else’s families while on deployment, you can’t recall if you really ever dove into talking about your own.

Obviously, you had heard all about Jake’s very extended family at this point. But even you knew about Freud and his weird association with his mom’s current husband - her fifth husband if you were remembering things correctly. Cosmo had a close relationship with his sister Cecilia but not his sister Lucia. Slab had a complicated connection with his adoptive parents but got on okay with his older brother. And so on.

“They’re not very interesting,” you finally settle on.

He raises a single eyebrow, “I highly doubt that.”

“Compared to yours?”

That makes him smirk, “Fair point.”

From there, it takes you a little longer to realize that you’re both eating at a leisurely pace and that Jake isn’t constantly checking his watch or telling you to speed it up. It’s a strange occurrence, given his usual attentiveness for being timely. Jake Seresin lived by the motto that if you’re early, you’re on time and if you’re on time, you’re late.

So, as nearly a full hour of the two of you sitting there and shooting the shit passes, you start to grow the slightest bit concerned. Going on to ask:

“How far did you say your dad’s place was?”

His lips immediately fall into a sort of scowl as you pull him away from a very amusing story about his time in officer’s school.

“Two hours,” comes the almost robotic reply.

“Does that mean we should start, you know, heading out?”

Your breakfast had long since been finished and the wrappers thrown away. Your drinks were little more than melted ice and semi-chewed straws at this point.

After ruffling his hair and twisting his watch around a few times, he finally sighs.

“Yeah, probably.”

Forcing a tight-lipped smile, you slap his shoulder as you finally stand up from the picnic table.

“Come on, Seresin. You got me as your wingman for a second round today. No time like the present.”

Grabbing hold of both of your near-empty drinks, he too lifts his leg over the side of the bench and stands up with a playfully annoyed, “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up now, Pits.”

The ride to his dad’s house is filled with Christmas music played by two different country radio stations. As the odometer slowly creeps up mile by mile, you can see the difference in your companion’s composure. He started out relaxed, almost lounging in his seat. And then it grows more rigid; with his hands clutching the steering wheel like it had personally wronged him.

Last night, the two of you had talked about the upcoming shitstorm of a holiday get-together.

You knew Josh would be there again. But you would also be meeting his other brother, Justin, and his wife and kids of course. And then there was his sister, Jess, and her brood - as he had put it.

Just from the way he talked about his siblings, it was clear that Jake did not get on with - nor keep in close contact with - any of them. He seemed particularly hung up on his sister more so than his older brothers. And while you were sure there was a story - or two - there, you didn’t feel it was the time, or place,to pry.

And then, of course, there was the infamous Mr. Seresin himself. Of him, you knew the least amount of information. Only being told that you should keep your conversations limited if not just nonexistent. You weren’t sure how well that idea would apply in reality, but for your friend’s sake, you promised to keep things to his plan.

As the radio DJ announces yet another Thomas Rhett song, Jake finally hops onto an exit ramp, signaling that you were close to the inevitable get-together.

In almost two hours, you had covered a variety of topics pertaining to work. But seeing the great amount of tension currently attacking your wingman, you finally relent with a different story.

“I got my pilot’s license at seventeen.”

Only because you’re at a stoplight does Jake look over at you, wide-eyed and mouth slightly ajar as the beginnings of a smirk curl into place.

“Do tell.”

You chuckle as he turns the wheel.

“Whole line of aviators, actually. Great-grandpa was a paratrooper during Korea and I guess he just missed the adrenaline when he came back to the States. His son took up commercial flying and my dad got his license just because it seemed like everyone else in the family was doing it.”

“And you?” his sage green eyes meet yours for a quick second before he focuses back on the road ahead of you.

With a shrug, you draw your knee up on the seat and stare out the passenger window. Swatches of dusty farmland and wooden fences pass you by.

“Guess I was always just growing up around them. My grandpa took me flying all the time when my dad was busy working. Did my first solo ride at fifteen in a glider and got my license two years later.”

You can see his grin from out of your peripheral and count it as a victory.

“Any other incredible talents you’ve kept hidden under that smartass exterior?”

“Hey!” you gently slap his arm, pulling a fake pout. “If there was, I’m not telling you now.”

“Alright, alright,” he bites his lip, tapping the steering wheel as a sense of ease washes over him. “I’ll play nice.”

With a roll of your eyes, you mutter under your breath, “Fat fucking chance.”

There’s a seemingly dramatic sigh from him which is immediately followed by a hand being jabbed into your flank and a screech of laughter erupting from your lips as Jake proceeds to tickle your side.

“G-god fuckin- STOP, y-you asshole,” you try to squirm away from his touch, but his fingers seem to know your exact weak points and there’s only so far you can scramble away.

“Give it up, Pita,” he croons sweetly, still somehow managing to drive the car steadily down the road with his left hand.

“Mercy! Mer-cy, you jackass!”

You shove at his hand until he finally relents. Absolutely beaming as he looks over at you, unable to stop his own chuckle from seeing the state of you. He sighs, the bubble of laughter on his lips as he turns down a dirt road.

“Sure know how to distract a guy.”

With a huff of indignation, you say, “I’m sure there’s more alluring ways to do that.”

Only when Jake chokes on his own spit do you throw your head back in a howl of laughter.

“Christ, the look on your face, Seresin.”

“Ha ha,” he deadpans, catching your gaze in the reflection of the rearview mirror. “Laugh it up, sweetheart. Cause we’re almost there.”

That does seem to sober you both up almost instantly.

The radio sways in and out between bits of static break-up. As the houses fall further and further back from the road, it seems like you’re looking at nothing but straight-up copper-dusted fields.

Hangman leans forward on the wheel as he peers out at the stretch of dirt road, checking the numbers on the mailboxes that pop up every mile. And then, at last, he finally slows the car down to a steady roll.

And while Lady A is singing about it being an absolutely Wonderful Christmastime, you watch as all signs of joy seem to drain from your friend’s face as he turns onto the long-winding drive of his father’s ranch. The tires kick up dirt and pebbles, leaving a trail of dust in your wake. You’re jostled in your seat from the rough terrain of the unpaved driveway.

“Can’t believe I’m fucking doing this,” he murmurs, staring up ahead at the trucks already parked next to the white barn.

The house itself is a massive ranch-style home, with wood siding that almost makes it look like an older cabin. But the windows are clearly modern and sleek. It was no question at all that Jake’s father had some serious money to his name here. If the accompanying acres of farmland weren’t already a dead giveaway.

You wait for him to park, killing the ignition and resting his arms on the steering wheel with a resigned look in place of his usually bright eyes.

“When, uh, when was the last time you were here?”

With a sigh, his chin resting on the wheel now too as he stares up at the sprawling house.

“All the time as a kid. It was my granddad’s. Went on to my uncle until he ran himself straight into debt from all the gambling and drinking. Then this one - ” he jerks his head in the general direction of the house once again, “ - got it passed onto him. Haven’t been back since my granddad passed. So maybe… fourteen years?”

With a singular blink, you mutter an equally pressed, “Jesus, Seresin.”

“Yeah, well…” he just shakes his head, having already given you the gist of everything last night. No point in rehashing old news.

“Looks like everyone is here,” you comment after glancing around at the other numerous vehicles in the drive.

He nods, finally pulling the keys from the ignition and swinging the chain into his hand.

You follow him up the path to the front porch – a once beautiful piece of craftsmanship now deteriorating and stained. The floorboards of the deck squeak under your shoes and a handful of the railings seem to be either broken-off or missing entirely. A black bear carved out of wood greets you both with a simple welcome sign held in its fur-textured paws.

Jake gives a solid rap to the door before he grabs hold of the handle and shoves it open. More of a courtesy knock than anything.

With a little squeeze to his bicep, you give him your best encouraging nod and follow after him as he slides through the entryway where a massive pile of boots and shoes has been deposited.

You’re only afforded a sliver of a proper view into the main living space, but the noise level is already on par with an F18 ready to take off from the flight deck.

As you kick off your shoes into the sprawling mess of footwear, you’re assaulted by the sound of screaming children, raucous cheers, a football announcer blasting through surround-sound speakers, and the faint twang of Christmas music radiating out from a speaker somewhere in the middle of it all.

Mixed with the pungent smell of sweat-soaked shoes and rosemary-scented turkey roasting in an oven, you reach out to grab hold of Jake’s arm – simply from the overwhelming amount of things happening all around you before you even see a single person.

“You good?” he murmurs, a shocking amount of concern etched onto his usually playful features.

“Mhmm,” you manage.

A warm hand eases its way onto the small of your back and you feel the madness fall into a pinpoint tunnel where it’s easily manageable and not so disconcerting.

“Never better,” said through a set of clenched teeth is all you can work up for him.

With another squeeze to his arm, you allow Jake to guide you – by the hand still on your lower back – down the front hall to the large open-plan living space. To your left, several women lean against the russet-colored cabinets, with glasses of dark red wine in hand and ringing laughs as short blonde-haired children weave their way through the space.

To the right, near the stone fireplace sits the majority of the men on overstuffed leather couches and recliners as they stare up, with rapt attention, at the game currently projected on the large flat screen mounted above the mantel.

“Uncle Jake!”

Your eyes lock onto the blur of yellow and red that comes charging toward you both. Stepping out of the fray, you watch as your companion drops to his knees to scoop up the girl with the maroon ribbons laced through her platinum hair.

“Kenna Kenna Kenna,” he grins, grabbing hold of the young girl around her waist as he hefts her up and swings her back and forth in his embrace.

A smile that you can’t seem to control graces your lips as you watch the scene play out.

Oh, the guys back on the carrier would kill to see this side of Hangman right now. What a privilege it was for you to bear witness to.

From over his shoulder, you’re presented with the curious brown eyes of the girl who then jabs her hand against Jake’s chest and demands:

“Who’s that?”

You watch as your companion’s grin slips down for just a brief second before he forces a tight smile.

“That,” comes the familiar voice of the older Seresin brother, who rises from one of the leather recliners with a beer in hand, and a too-smug smile on his face. “Is Uncle Jackie’s girlfriend.”

The girl gasps, staring up at Jake with a pure look of wonderment, “You have a girlfriend?”

Out of instinct alone, you wrap a hand around his right arm – encouraging the act from him.

“I do,” he nods at last, glancing over at you with those piercing green eyes. And then he’s laughing, dropping the girl back down onto her feet as he says, “God, when’d you get so big?”

“Probably sometime between your last visit and now.”

Your gaze snaps over to the woman in a denim blouse in the kitchen area, swirling her wine before she finishes it off.

If you had to take a guess...

“Jess,” he greets, short and to the point with a curt nod of his head.

Bingo.

As the girl, Kenna, skirts off to join the other kids currently hanging back by the patio doors near the massive Christmas tree, another man wanders over. Similar to Josh and Jake, he’s got dimpled cheeks, darker blonde hair, and a distinctive swagger to his walk.

“Hey man,” he claps Hangman on the shoulder, presenting him with a bottle of beer in his other hand. “Long time no fucking see. Look good though.”

Jake takes hold of the drink before he slinks his arm back around your waist, guiding you forward and into his side.

“Justin,” he nods, half in greeting, and half in explanation for your current confusion.

Ah, brother number two.

“And you’re the mysterious girlfriend,” his eyes slip past his brother to land firmly upon your face.

You offer your hand in return, along with your name.

“Never thought we’d see the day,” he grins in return. And then he’s backing away, gesturing toward the fridge, “Something to drink? Beer, wine, Coke?”

Surrounded by so many people who all seem to be particularly interested in scrutinizing your every move, you merely shake your head, “Think I’m good for now, thanks.”

Jake squeezes your side and you look to your left to see him already staring down at you with a soft smile. Emboldened by his apparent approval, you begin to make your rounds with him never far from reach.

You’re introduced, quickly, to Gwen. His bubbly stepmother with dark roots and straw-colored hair who hands you a glass of wine without taking no for an answer. She’s brightness personified and the definition of a doting host. Beside her stands a rather quiet fixture in the kitchen.

Marissa is the curly-haired young wife of Justin Seresin. She watches on with a bottle held between her chipped-red nails as Jess hollers at Kenna from across the room when she tries to drop a handful of slime on her uncle’s head.

The woman remains silent, though she holds an amused smile, as she watches the madness of her inlaws take place. There’s a brood of children that moves and weaves through the adults who remain largely indifferent to their antics.

From the countertop, where an array of appetizers are laid out, you watch as the two seven-year-old twins – Dawson and Dixon – gulf down scoops and scoops of bean dip. While their sister - Brynlee, as Jake’s stepmother manages to tell you over the noise of the get-together – seems content to cling to Marissa’s pant leg as she stares up at the towering adults overhead.

Your nerves begin to ease as a sort of familiar feeling washes over you. If you convinced yourself hard enough, you could almost pretend this was one of your mom’s extended family reunions.

Sure, you weren’t well-acquainted with everyone yet. But if you forced a good smile and made an effort to be courteous, you were sure you could get through the ordeal without tarnishing your wingman’s reputation.

Slowly, Jake guides you through the room, until, at last, you’re sat on the armrest of one of the leather recliners, watching with distant interest as the announcers recount the last play in the game before halftime.

“So, you gonna introduce us properly?”

Your eyes shift toward the couch where you spot the gray-haired tresses and stern sun-baked face of Daniel Seresin. Your companion, who had been standing off to the side of the living room speaking in quiet conversation with his eldest brother, seems to straighten up to full attention as if an admiral had just entered the room.

With a twinge of discomfort, your gaze tracks Jake as he strides over to you, a hand resting on your shoulder when he finally comes to a stop. You can feel his breath on your neck, the rise and fall of his chest against your back.

In a rigid tone bordering on inspection-line worthy, he introduces you by name and rank to his father.

A smile flits across the older man’s face as he beams up at you, rising from his lounged position on the couch to properly shake your hand. He looks the part of a typical rancher with his light-washed jeans and buttoned-down shirt tucked in with a flashy belt buckle.

“Real pleasure to meet you,” he grins. His hand is large, calloused by years of work. “I can’t tell you the last time Jake mentioned a girl catching his interest. Isn’t that right, buddy?”

You feel rather than hear the clipped mhmm that Jake gives in return. His gaze remains largely focused on the wall behind his father where an array of framed family photos resides. Never affording the man with the respect of holding his gaze.

Daniel claps your shoulder warmly and invites you to sit down with promises of their dinner being a real feast.

“She’s a saint, Gwen,” he tells you as you resume your position on the side of the armrest.

Jake, pointedly, slouches down in the actual recliner, his fingers wrapped around the neck of a bottle as he stares – unseeing – at the TV.

“Hell, damn near blew myself up last year with the fryer. Don’t think she’ll let me in the kitchen, will ya, honey?”

He shouts the last part, to be heard over the crowd. Followed by a ringing you bet your ass I won’t coming from the vicinity of the stove.

You watch as Josh shakes his head in amusement, cradling a wriggly toddler in his arms. But your attention ultimately falls to the man seated to the side of you. Lost in his thoughts, trapped in his own head.

Reaching down with a tentative hand, you squeeze his fingers with your own.

It takes a minute, but then those welcomed meadow-green eyes meet your gaze and you can almost see the momentary relief that crosses his face as he squeezes your hand in return.

Dinner at the Seresin house is a decidedly casual affair in comparison to the meal you had shared with Patricia the day before. Gwen dishes out the seasonal fixings onto Christmas-themed heavy-duty disposable plates. Accompanied by wrapped bundles of plastic cutlery in Santa Claus paper napkins.

Balancing your plate on your lap is a true feat of talent as you’re the main entry and exit point to the kitchen, still settled on the armrest beside Jake.

The nieces and nephews, all eight of them, are situated on the floor on a big fleece blanket that quickly becomes an absorbent towel for their stray food bits more than anything else. Your hostess has the foresight to turn the game down to a more reasonable level, though the noise in the living room is still on par with a jet engine firing.

You find yourself shouting to be heard whenever anyone graces you with a question, which isn’t many... at first.

“ - anyway, after he pulled them over,” Jess continues her story about her husband, Nick: the Statetrooper. “He told them that he – god damnit! MacKenna Jaymes, are you or are you not watching your sister?”

Your attention, involuntary, falls to the oldest grandchild who has a mouth full of food as she stares helplessly at her younger sister who’s let her plate slip and spill all over the blanket.

“Fucking Christ,” Jake scoffs in heated breath, too quiet for anyone besides you to hear. His anger isn’t directed at his niece, of course, but at his sister.

Shoving his plate onto the other armrest, he peels himself up from the chair and crouches down to the oblivious toddler who has orange cheese sauce all around her lips – which he wipes clean with a napkin.

Jess, for her part, rolls her eyes and continues on with a biting tone about children needing to take care of their own messes. But Jake merely scoops up the girl’s food and settles the plate back down on the floor in front of her with a gentle ruffle of her sweet blonde locks.

You hold his plate for him when he returns to the chair, running a hand through his own hair.

“Thanks, honey,” he says in a cadence so natural it almost makes you drop his plate.

When he’s settled, you chance a look at him before you find your gaze trailing over to the far too smug brother seated on the chair adjacent to yours.

“See? This is the shit I was talking about last night,” he waggles a finger between the two of you as an example.

“Dad, do you remember when he brought over that girl? God, Jackie, what was her fuckin’ name?” Josh perks up, sitting on the edge of the cushion as he grabs his father’s attention, and, inadvertently, Jake’s as well.

“Oh, gosh,” Daniel starts, slapping his knee in thought as he stares up at the ceiling for the answer.

After a beat, you hear the soft utterance of, “Sarah.”

You glance down at Jake who keeps his head bowed under the weight of old memories.

Josh snaps his fingers, “That’s it! Fucking head cheerleader wrapped around his damn finger and did he even spare the girl a glance? I swear to God, he - ”

“Christ, can you knock it off with the swearing already?” Jess snaps.

The mischievous brother merely grins at you in a way that seems to say you see what I’m dealing with here?

“Must be all that growing up that’s got you so enamored.”

Settling your hand on Jake’s left shoulder, you give him a reasurring squeeze. You’d already dealt with his brother’s annoying antics and personality last night, what was a few more hours of unending torture under a familial microscope?

He lets out a long ragged breath, but you can feel his shoulders loosen marginally.

You almost miss the biting sound of the Seresin sister when she mutters, “Doubt it.”

But Jake doesn’t.

And he latches on to it like an enemy target on his radar system.

“Something you wanna say?”

The room falls to a stifling silence like the distant whistle of a falling shell about to make impact. You fear for the fallout from the impending crater.

She has the audacity to look aghast, a hand held to her heart in surprise as she manages to finish off her potato salad in one quick bite.

“Jacob. If you can’t say something nice, you don’t say anything at all.”

“And yet you always manage,” comes his lightning-quick response.

“Well,” she drawls. “On a holy day like Christmas, I think you can find a way to keep your opinions sealed up.”

The other occupants watch the sparring of words like a tennis volley. But someone seems to have had enough.

“Oh, bless your heart dear!” Gwen says, standing quickly from her position on the couch beside her husband as she makes her way over to you. “You’re all out of casserole. Come on, now. Let’s get you fixed back up.”

Your chest tightens as you’re literally pulled to your feet by the determined woman, who quickly leads you into the depths of the kitchen. The words from the two siblings are still just as biting, but slowly the trickle of grandchildren also make their way into the kitchen.

Just another Christmas get-together for them as the grown-ups row.

As Gwen tops your plate to the point of sagging with more food, you watch MacKenna as she settles her younger sister on her hip while holding a hand on top of the toddler’s head.

“You’ve got your hands full,” you manage to say, hoping the smile you offer her isn’t tight with worry as the noise in the living room continues to grow.

The girl shrugs, as much as she can with a one-year-old in her arms. She tracks her siblings as they settle onto the hightop stools and begin to rummage through the lower cabinets.

Josh has his hands out as he tries to delegate between the bickering siblings, but Justin and Marissa just have the peace of mind to leave the scene altogether – also journeying over to the sanctuary of the kitchen.

“Don’t worry,” the eldest brother says to you, leaning on the counter as he carefully pushes his twin sons away from the bowl of Chex mix. “They always get into it when they’re together. Has nothing to do with you.”

“Oh,” is all you can say in return.

“Here, hun,” his wife says to the nine-year-old struggling to hold onto her baby sister any longer. “Give your arms a break.”

With a handful of chips in his mouth, Justin points at his wife, “We’re not having another one.”

She nods congenially, patting the baby’s back with her hand, “I know that.”

Jess is on her feet now, pointing a dangerous finger at Jake, but you feel rooted to the spot because this was never a discussed topic of possible scenarios between the two of you back at the hotel.

“Abandoning your fucking family because you have goddamn daddy issues. Get the fuck over yourself, Jacob!”

For all the hostility his sister throws his way, your companion remains level and coolheaded as always.

He stares up at her with a perfectly blank face, “Can’t go one damn holiday without throwing a tantrum can you?”

Gwen coughs, pulling your attention away for just a moment as she all but shoves a platter of cookies in your face.

“Want one? Got more than the two of us can eat here. I made peanut butter, peppermint, pecan – ”

“ - and you think you can just show up here like it’s all water under the bridge and everything’s fine and dandy just because you have a girl on your arm? That doesn’t make up for the last decade of your shit.”

You take a step toward the living room, where even Josh has shrunken down onto the couch with his head between his hands. Daniel remains completely stock still as he watches the seemingly one-sided fight drag on.

“Just ‘cause you found the first broad to give you the time of day, doesn’t mean you can just waltz in here and – ”

Before you can even register the words, Jake is on his feet.

Staring down at his sister with a heaving chest and balled fists.

You break away from the cluster of family members as you make your way to his side. Tentatively, you reach for his hand – easing his fingers away until you can entwine your hands together. His nostrils flare as words that have been building up since childhood begin to battle their way up to his lips, but it all comes to a halt when you murmur a gentle:

“Baby?”

With a slow turn of his head, he looks down at you – fight dissipating from his eyes as you squeeze his hand. Giving a gentle tug, Jake follows you over to the sliding doors of the back deck.

Behind you, you can hear Josh give an admonishing, “Never known when to close your massive fucking trap, do you?”

But you push aside the door and lead your wingman into the fresh afternoon air before you can hear her likely cutting response.

Having no real idea of the lay of the land, you pull him down the back steps and find yourself traversing a small pebble path around the back of the house. Jake, still in a state of silence, allows you to guide him forward without so much as a peep.

Near the back wooden cattle fence dividing the backyard from the actual farm property, you stop under the shade of a large tree. The billowing branches bring not only cool shade but a sense of privacy away from the prying eyes of the bickering family inside.

Releasing your grip on his hand, Jack takes a few unsteady steps forward before he drops down onto a faded old wooden porch swing. It creaks under his weight but seems sturdy enough as he eases his heels into the ground and pushes back and forth.

You stand there, staring out at the vast fields for a long long moment before you hear your name whispered into the breeze.

Turning back to your wingman, you take a seat beside him, your knees brushing as he continues to make the old swing sway.

Out here, if you close your eyes, you can almost imagine you’re in the cockpit on a smooth return flight. The only noise comes from the gentle breeze drooping over the tall grass that bends like ripples in the water.

But your attention ultimately falls to your friend. With his knuckles gripped white on his knees, his head bowed down with his shoulders hunched high to protect him.

This version of Hangman would never be seen by your squadron, nor would it ever be mentioned.

With a steadying breath, your voice cracking as you force out the words, you say, “I have a soft spot for disco music.”

It takes a second for the words to register, but Jake slowly lifts his head and stares at you with pure confusion.

“What?”

“Disco. It’s my... thing? And I’m swearing you to fucking secrecy, Bagman. But... I belt out ABBA songs when I’m alone. Donna Summers too.”

The making of a grin begins to form on the corner of his lips.

“I’ve got it bad for the Bee Gees.”

His brow raises ever so slightly.

“Do those private serenades also include a dance number?”

With a bark of laughter, you tuck your hands between your knees as he rocks you further back on the wide swing.

“Oh, absolutely.”

When you look up, you find his eyes narrowed and scrutinizing. But not in a harsh way. More like you were a puzzle he was just only now figuring out the missing pieces of.

“Why are you telling me this?”

Giving a shrug, you say, “Because I wanted to. Also, no one will ever believe you.”

There’s a beat of silence before his lips tug up into a radiant smile that has him shaking his head.

“God damnit, you’re right.”

You let your left shoulder bump into his right as his laughter slowly ebbs away to silence once again.

He spares the house a furrowed expression before he lets out a slow exhale of breath.

“This thing,” he starts, twisting his watch back and forth on his wrist. “Between me and Jess, it goes back years.”

“You don’t have to explain it,” you assure him with a soft utterance.

But he presses forward despite it.

“Josh and Justin were already out by the time things got bad. Just me and her in the house. Not that she paid much mind. She was ‘bout to graduate and I was just some snot-nosed ten-year-old.”

He eases into the swing, dipping his head back over the headrest to stare up at the swaying green leaves above the two of you. You find yourself turning to face him, pulling your left knee up onto the seat.

“Mom started drinking ‘round then after she found out he was fucking his bowling buddy. Had been, for the last two years or so. But Jess didn’t know that shit, just saw Mom passed out on the couch with an empty bottle on the floor.”

Jake shakes his head, pushing away the memory.

“They never said it to my face, but I know. I was the save the marriage baby.”

“Jake...”

Offering you a tight grimace, he continues.

“Spoiled as hell, got whatever I wanted and then some. Private school, the works. Brothers didn’t care much, but Jess...” he trails off.

Your hand settles onto his forearm, offering a squeeze of comfort when your own words fail you. He dips his chin in return, welcoming the touch of familiarity.

“That’s what I meant by it the other day. They sided with him and I went along with her because I found out what was really happening. Don’t get me wrong, Gwen’s a good lady and the two of them are better off divorced. But... put a wedge between me and the three of them.”

Clearing your throat, you ask, “Is that why you left to join up?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Couldn’t fucking stand to be around either of them by the time I graduated. Just wanted to start over, do something for myself on my own terms.”

And then he scrubs his palm over his face, wincing as he does so.

“Christ, I don’t know why I’m fucking telling you any of this.”

“I said you didn’t have to, you know,” you nudge him with a teasing tone.

With a look of pure exasperation, he holds his hands out like a confession, “Got me bleeding my heart out here like I’m Freeze or something, Pits.”

“Eh,” you sigh, twisting your body to pull up both of your legs onto the bench – only to deposit them both right across Jake’s lap with little fanfare. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of it.”

Something funny flits over his features for a moment before he places his hand over your calf and resumes his gentle rocking of the swing.

Eventually, you both manage to peel yourselves off the swing and wander back into the house. Jake says something about being completely okay with ditching the whole thing and heading back to the rental car. But you have to remind him that your shoes are still currently lost in the massive pile in the front entryway.

He then tries to convince you to leave them, going so far as to say he’ll buy you a new pair before your flight.

But, reluctant as he is, you walk hand-in-hand back into the house. You get lost in the excitement of the kids who want to open up all their presents right this very second and it seems like, for the moment at least, the fight has been put on hold to allow the true joy of Christmas to take place.

Though Jake and his sister remain on opposite sides of the room for the entire duration of the madness that is eight kids scrambling to unwrap their numerous presents the fastest.

While Justin plays the role of gift hander-outer, Jess lounges on a barstool in the kitchen, watching the mess play out with a stink eye. Jake, for all his hold-ups on the day, also drops to his knees to help the younger nieces unwrap their gifts.

Which leaves you, surprisingly, with a small bundle of drooling baby in your arms since her own mother would rather watch from afar than interact with her own children.

June is happy to suck on the left foot of her new stuffed buddy, lounging out in your lap as you rock the recliner back and forth. Jake shoots you several amused glances before he gets tugged into the decidedly un-fun realm of opening up all the plastic-wrapped toys for the kids.

The living room floor is heaped with wrapping paper and ribbons, loose twist ties, and chunks of cardboard and plastic molds by the time he returns to your side. This time, he’s the one resting on the armrest as he gently taps the snoozing baby’s foot with his fingers.

“Out like a light.”

“No better way to celebrate the day,” you agree.

The sleeping babe must be used to the chaos that is the Seresin family, as her siblings and cousins run amok with their new toys that beep and jingle. Tiny feet thundering against the hardwood floors as they zoom up and down the long hallway separating the living area from the rest of the house.

“Now that’s a picture if I’ve ever seen one.”

You lift your gaze to Gwen as she rounds the corner, a wine glass in hand as she settles in next to Daniel on the couch across from the three of you.

“Think you two will ever settle down stateside?” he asks with a true glimmer of hope in his graveled voice.

Jake winces, hand falling to your inner thigh for support.

“I, uhm, I could never ask Jake to put his career on hold for that,” you find yourself saying.

“Same for you,” he adds a second later.

Gwen, for her part, gives an understanding nod – settling a hand on her husband’s arm to stifle the topic down.

“How long have you two been flying together?”

Your wingman seeks out your gaze as the two of you mentally run through the tangle of memories.

“Three, almost four years now?”

“Mhmm.”

“And what set this all off, if you don’t mind me prying?”

Jake clears his throat, and you have to turn your head to hide the beginnings of laughter that bubble up to the surface. He shifts his weight, draping his right arm over the back of the chair, a finger playfully tugs at the fabric of your shirt.

“It was after a mission debrief. Fourteen hours, dead on our feet,” the story, completely fabricated, comes to him with a true sense of ease.

“And, I dunno. Everyone was shuffling outta the room and I just looked over and saw Pita and thought...”

At the pause, you turn your face to look up at him only to find his softened eyes seeking you out.

“Wow. I can’t have this girl out of my life.”

That piercing expression nearly takes your breath away and you want to applaud Jake for his terrific acting on the fly.

Pulling your gaze back to the seated couple, you add, in jest, “I’m sure my greasy hair and flight suit was what did it for him.”

“Hundred percent!” he grins, tugging a strand of your hair.

At some point, the others filter back into the room and Marissa kindly takes the snoozing June from you. You have to shake out your arms just to return the blood circulation. Who knew kids that little could be that heavy?

And while you get lost in the rushed conversation of two seven-year-olds trying to tell you all about the mechanical workings of their new RC cars, Daniel pushes up from the couch and weaves his way over to Jake, before saying something in his ear. You can feel the way he goes rigid as he slips his arm away from you and slowly stands and follows after his father.

You watch as the two men disappear down the hall, toward one of the bedrooms or office from the looks of it. A cold dredge of worry washes over you, cooling your insides and twisting your stomach into another uncomfortable slosh of concern. He had just started smiling again.

“He’s really got you bad, doesn’t he?”

Pulling your gaze away from the empty hall, you find the piercing eyes of Josh inspecting your face as he leans across his chair to speak to you.

“You. You’re worried about him.”

“Comes with the job,” you say.

A smirk tugs his lips into a twisted look as he too glances down the hallway.

“He’ll be fine. Little testy with whatever Dad’s about to try pulling. Won’t be too surprised if that’s the end of our little visit.”

Your brows pinch, “That bad?”

He chuckles, easing back into his recliner, “Always.”

You try to focus on the happy children occupied with their new toys and the soft lull of the TV sportscaster, but you find your primary focus pulled toward the long empty hallway.

He had told you all about the history between him and his old man, both in the backyard confessional an hour prior and the day you arrived in Austin. Yet now your mind was conjuring up worse and worse scenarios of what was happening in a closed-door room several feet away.

Another few minutes pass where you try your best to ignore what could be transpiring a few yards away, but the sound of a door opening followed by a pleading voice saying:

“Jacob, come on now. Jake. Jake.”

You crane your head just in time to see your companion striding down the hallway, directly toward you – pushing both Justin and Gwen gently out of his way. You’re on your feet by the time he reaches you and before you can even ask are you okay, he’s grabbing hold of your arm.

“Think we’re done here, sweetheart.”

Trying to get a read from his expression alone is useless, so you merely nod in return.

“Okay.”

As Jake directs you toward the entryway once again, with a trail of family members walking a few steps behind you both in silent anticipation, Daniel Seresin finally makes a reappearance.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he just shakes his head in return to his wife’s questioning look.

Hangman can’t seem to move fast enough, even as the nieces creep past you to get to him.

“Are you leaving now, Uncle Jake?”

“When am I gonna see you again?”

He’s halfway between tying his left boot when he looks up at the little faces curled with worry and childhood innocence. Frozen, unable to find the right words to explain his hasty escape as he peers up and over their heads at his father standing silently at the end of the hall.

“Oh, that’s my fault, I’m afraid,” you say, leaning down to grab your own boots as three braided-blonde heads turn to look up at you.

“We need to hurry to the airport to catch our flight, don’t we, honey?”

A flash of gratitude in his eyes and a slow exhale has Jake nodding, quick to play along to your tune.

“That’s right, sweetheart. We have to go see Pita’s family now. Wouldn’t be fair to keep her away on Christmas, yeah?”

Shelby clings to his leg, her face squished into his thigh as she murmurs, “But I’ll miss you.”

Jake shoots you a clear help me look, but your rescue comes in the shape of Josh Seresin who swoops in and collects the five-year-old up into his arms.

“I’m sure you’ll hear from Uncle Jackie soon. Won’t you?”

Your companion gives a fast nod, “That’s right, kiddo. Soon as we’re back on the carrier, I’m gonna call you right up.”

The little girl peers over her uncle’s shoulder and you meet her soft gaze.

“And Pita too?”

Jake almost laughs, but he curves it into a smile instead.

“Yeah, her too, honey.”

Oh, your breakup in a few weeks was gonna be fun to talk through with a kindergartner.

Pushing that thought from your head, you righten your boot into place and fall back into Jake’s easy embrace, his hand finding a too-familiar spot on your waist.

The drive back to the city is shared in silence with only the familiar Christmas tunes from the radio there to fill the void between you both. And even then, the holiday spirit has already seeped out of the vehicle and into the vast countryside. No amount of classic jingles could fix that at this point.

When you arrive back at the hotel, it’s as though you’re waiting for the missile to hit. That weapon of course being Jake himself.

But the man in question is as silent as ever as he drops down onto the edge of his bed. Too tired to even remove his boots as you carefully tread around him to take care of your own shoes.

His silence makes you even more cautious in your moves, tiptoeing across the carpet to your bag and back again. Afraid to make any noise that could set him off. Oh, you could handle the fallout, of course. You’re just not sure if he could at this point.

When you emerge from the bathroom, now dressed in your sleepwear, Jake is lying flat on his back with his legs hanging over the edge. His eyes open and staring, almost unseeing, at the popcorn ceiling.

After spending a moment to assess your situation, you unceremoniously flop down on the bed beside him, a hand plopping down on his right knee.

And there you sit, in the stillness of the hotel room for a series of long-passing minutes. You watch the steady rise and fall of his chest, curling your fingers tighter and then looser on his jean-clad knee. Until, at last, he speaks.

“Should have never did this to you.”

You wait until his eyes land on you before you respond.

“Oh, fuck off, Bagman.”

It takes a second, but he eases up onto his elbows.

“I’m serious. Yesterday with my mom was one thing. But this shit? Today? God,” he drags a hand down his face in annoyance.

Releasing a breath, you lay down beside him on the bed. He stares down at you for a long moment before he falls back down next to you.

“I told you, I don’t care. I agreed to this entire insane endeavor and I told you I was gonna see it through no matter what. So, lose the bullshit grief, and don’t worry about me.”

Tugging on the loose fabric of his seafoam-colored button-down, you give him the space to respond or not. Hell, you were gonna be the last person to try and press the man for anything right now.

“I just...” he exhales, resting a hand on his chest. “I dragged you across the country, away from your own damn family, just to do this.”

Rising up slightly so you can stare down at him, you retort, “Which I agreed to. If I didn’t want to do this for you, do you honestly think you could force me to do any of this? Honestly?”

Jake glances back at the ceiling before a smile graces his lips.

“Hell no.”

“Exactly,” you reply, dropping back down.

“Well... at least it’s over.”

You hum in response.

Come morning, you would take the rental car back to the airport and board separate flights. You up to Michigan and Jake back to California. You would enjoy a family-filled holiday and he would be...

Your stomach turns at the thought.

Alone.

After everything that had transpired over the past forty-eight hours, after all that he was dragged through. Jake would be alone come Christmas day. Alone with his own damn thoughts and whatever reemerged trauma that came with this particular visit produced.

Maybe that’s why, after several more minutes have passed you both by, that you turn toward him and say:

“Do you... I don’t – well, that is to say, uhm...”

You can feel the look he gives you but you have to crane your neck back to properly look him in the eyes. There’s something there in the meadow green of his irises that emboldens you – allowing the words to come easily.

“Jake, would you like to come home with me for Christmas?”

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#jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #top gun fan fic #series: home for the holidays #my fic

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draculasfavoritewife · 7 days

Text

No Word For Hero

Summary: You love him and the way he will always be your protector, but sometimes facing the truth is the most terrifying thing of all.

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Warnings: Nightmares and discussions of death. The one-two punch of angst and fluffiness all in one. This one is a fair bit more somber than my other Mando stuff.

Another trope I will never ever get tired of -- the "having a nightmare while sleeping with your partner" routine! 🥳 Gets me in my feels every time, particularly with a character like Din who (to me at least) canonically also has frequent nightmares. I first drafted this one a couple summers ago as a result of all my feelings after that big moment in "The Marshal", as I'm sure will be obvious.

*Translations of less common words/phrases in Mando'a at the end

It's coming, exploding up from beneath the billowing sands, looming over everyone, titanic, monstrous, ravenous....

...He turns to you, ever so briefly, tilts his head in that meaningful look you know all too well...that damn look that means he's going to play hero again.

Damn his altruism.

When is he going to stop?

You already know that answer, too. It lurks forever in the back of your mind, awake or asleep, always whispering there, a constant venom ever deepening its grasp around your heart until one day the cold reality finally breaks it.

He'll stop when he finally doesn't come back to you.

When he's at last granted the warrior's death you know he desires.

Only then.

You can't even scream as he disappears down the dragon's throat, too frozen with horror to make a sound....

You bolt upright, gasping for breath, damp hair clinging to your face and tears running down, their salty tang sharp on your lips.

Stupid nightmares.

"Go away," you mutter, rubbing harshly at your eyes. "Just stop."

The cot is small, realistically much too small for two adults, and your distress is painfully evident to the man sharing it with you, whose arm has just been violently dislodged from its place around your torso.

"Bad dream?"

He sounds tired. He hardly ever sleeps through a full night at the best of times, and even then it's rarely a deep sleep.

If the old saying "sleep with one eye open" were actually true, Din would be its personification.

You curse your overactive mind a second time, for disturbing his precious few moments of rest along with your own.

"I'm fine." You don't lie back down, instead pulling your knees up to your chest and wrapping your arms tightly around them. Normally you find his quarters chilly, but the adrenaline coursing through your veins makes the room suddenly feel close and stuffy.

He shifts against you in the dark, no doubt to study your posture. "You don't sound fine."

You sigh. "I will be. You should try and get some sleep, Din."

You hear him lean back into the wall, a long exhale betraying stiffness somewhere in his muscles.

You've offered him the side of the bed that's not right up against the wall, but to your surprise he actually likes to be pressed closely between your body and the solidness of metal at his back.

You suspect it gives him a sense of security in a life that holds so little for him.

"I'm sorry I woke you," you add before he can speak again.

"You didn't." His revelation is cool and distant, as if his lack of rest means nothing to him. "I haven't slept at all tonight."

You turn to stare at him in dismay, only to be met with the void of deep darkness. "Why didn't you --"

"What? Wake you up to tell you I can't sleep?" Somehow you know he's shaking his head at you. "That fixes nothing, Cyar'ika. My sleep was disturbed since long before we met." His voice softens as he reaches for you, his large, comfortingly familiar hand stroking down your side. "But when I have you in my arms, listening to your breathing, I can at least find some peace. And that is often enough."

You let out another shuddering breath and gaze out into the dim compartment, the images from your nightmare replaying over and over behind your eyes like a holovid stuck on loop.

"I think I need some air," you murmur.

"Take my shirt, then." You're grateful he doesn't try to stop you; he knows you were taking care of yourself for a long time before you two struck up your partnership. He trusts you to look out for danger.

"Vor'e, Cyare." You slide from the bed, his fingers trailing away from your hip as you break from his gentle touch. He watches as you blindly take his shirt from the pile of clothes left on the floor and pull it over your head, pausing only to grab a vibroblade before exiting his quarters.

"I'll come back," you promise softly.

And the words sting deep down as they leave your lips, knowing that one day, one of you might not be able to keep that promise.

The night is cool and clear on this planet, and the breeze smells like living growth from the thick woods nearby. It's a far cry from the dust and smoke of so many of the worlds you've stayed on before, and soon you start to calm down, heartbeat returning to normal and perspiration drying at the wind's light touch. Everything is peaceful around you, the night birds calling and water flowing somewhere behind the trees.

Not for the first time, your thoughts stray towards the impossibility of trying to stay somewhere like this place, to drop everything you know and carve out a life on a frontier planet somewhere. You and Din and Grogu, living modestly and secretly away from the prying eyes of the Imperials or the Jedi, pretending at normalcy....

There's the key word.

Pretending.

You've played many parts since you lost your buir so many years ago. Dancer in the clubs of the Core worlds, thief, animal wrangler, pilot, hired gun. You could adapt, you feel fairly certain. It's the skill that's most reliably kept you alive this long.

But Din....

He's so deeply entrenched in his upbringing. His honor, and the hunt, mean everything to him. Whatever else he tries to be, he will always be the Mandalorian first and foremost. The Way runs through his veins, thicker than blood, and the fierce heart of a warrior beats beneath the beskar.

It's why he will ultimately always make sacrifices to keep those under his protection safe.

It's who he is. His identity.

The reason that one day he might not emerge from the belly of the beast in triumph.

And you love him, exactly the way he is. You'd never ask him to change.

But Maker, sometimes the knowledge of what that means hurts deeper than any physical wound.

So you stand there at the edge of the woods and let the tears come, let the sobs wrack your body as you bury yourself deeper in his comforting shirt, praying that the day never comes that all you have left are memories and clothes that smell like him.

Eventually, your grief runs its course and you can breathe once again. The crunch of footsteps in the damp grass warrants a side glance, but as you thought, it's only your beroya, come to check on you, no doubt.

"You've been out here a long time," he remarks.

"Had a lot on my mind."

He encircles you in his arms from behind, chin resting in the dip of your shoulder. You're surprised that he didn't replace his helmet to come out here, but sunrise is still a long way off.

"I'm usually the one with the nightmares," he teases softly. "This one must have been rough. Want to talk?"

You find his hands at your waist, interlock your fingers with his.

"I lost someone. Someone very important to me."

Turning slightly so you can rest your cheek against his, you kiss the very edge of his lips. "It scares me, Din."

He's quiet for some time, and you try to imagine the expression on his face.

"I'm sorry," he finally whispers. "I can't give you anything but my word that I will always try my hardest to come back to you. That is what fuels me, ner'kar'ta. The fire in my blood, the strength in my bones, is knowing that I need to make it back for you. But I realize that it is a double-edged blade. Because it also means I would give everything, to keep you safe in the end."

"I know, Din. I remember what my buir used to tell me, you know, how we have no word for 'hero' in our mother tongue, because to be Mando'ade is to risk all for the ones you love. I know I'm so selfish." You turn all the way around at last, hiding your face in his bare chest. "But I accept your vow. And it will have to be enough."

Collecting yourself and finally raising your haunted gaze to his, you manage a small smile. "But I will fight for you, Din Djarin. Death will find one hell of a struggle when it finally comes for you, I can promise you that."

"There's my girl." The fond grin in his voice is audible. "Now, will you come back to bed? It's getting lonesome in there."

You let him lead you back to the ship, and the sigh of the wind now seems to promise to whisk your fears away for the time being.

The door slides shut behind you, and you shiver, realizing all of a sudden just how cold you are. His shirt is a welcome barrier against the biting chill, and you wonder how he was able to get along without it outside.

"Cold?" he asks.

"Yes." You reach out for him, wordlessly begging for his warmth.

He sidesteps you and folds his arms across his chest. "Take it off," he demands, and indicates the shirt with a nod, husky voice brimming with humor and a shade of something hungrier. "Or I will."

You hug the worn fabric closer to your body and shake your head mutinously. "But it's the only thing keeping me warm!"

"So you've chosen the hard way." He crosses the small space in a couple of long strides and starts to tease the garment off of you, bit by agonizing bit. "And how dare you let a piece of clothing do a man's job."

"You're making me cold again," you complain as he pulls you into bed with him, the hunter retreating back to his lair to finish off his fortunate prey.

"Then honor dictates I repair the damage I've caused," he hums, and you surrender to the bliss of being completely enveloped in his embrace. Din has always run hot, ever since you started sleeping together, and his warmth and familiar weight are so much better than any sweet dream of yours could be.

In the here and now, he's still alive, and he's still yours.

There will be no more tears tonight.

"Better?" he growls into your throat.

You run your fingers through his thick curls, sighing at the way he always manages to banish all of your dark thoughts away. And maybe now there will even be time for him to get some sleep before morning as well.

"I am now."

Vor'e = Thank you

Buir = Parent

Beroya = Bounty Hunter

Ner'kar'ta = My heart

Mando'ade = Child of Mandalore

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hunterbunter3000 · 1 year

Text

.We're Just Buddies.

Summary: Bakugou's girlfriend is making him feel things and he goes to confront her about it. Sucks that they're bad feelings.

Katsuki Bakugou × black!reader

Notes: Damn how do I suck at summary's as well? LMAO I DONT WRITE ALOT PLS HAVE MERCY this has been in my drafts for a while and its pretty short, so why not-- also why do I WRITE him so much he's not even my favorite🤨 (am I lying to myself rn🫠) ALSO REALLY SUPER SORRY THAT I'VE BEEN GONE FOR SO LONG

Warnings: jealousy, insecure Bakugou, suggestive talk and action so JUST TO BE SAFE 18+ MDNI college au(?) Its so quick tho, adult lovers Bakugou is in his 20s and so is reader, hurt/comfort, little drabble of sub!Bakugou because g o d that has me on a chokehold, mention of Kaminari x reader, Bakugou being treated like the princess he is

Reader: black, female, she/her pronouns, use of quirk but it's unamed, same height as Bakugou, bit of a dom!

"Do you like him?"

Bakugou breathes heavily when that question seethes from his mouth. His eyes shielded by his blond hair, not wanting to look his girlfriend in the eyes when she answers the question that has been haunting him for the past month.

"Uhm.." She chuckles. Bakugou dragged her into their bedroom to ask a vague question? "What? Bakugou, what are you talking abo--"

"Do you. Like him." His voice almost cracks, but he wants to keep up his angry facade. No, he needs to. He can't cry in front of her.

She blinks as her face contorts into confusion. "Baby, you're gonna have to be more specific."

Fucking hell. Bakugou grinds his teeth. Does she want to torture him? This is already hard enough, he can't take much more if his heart is already breaking.

"Fuck! Denki! Denki fucking Kaminari! The yellow bitch who you always hang around, the guy who makes you laugh so much, the guy who you're always smiling with!" He yells out. His clenched fists are trembling, just like the rest of his body. Let's dub it as trembling with anger.

Her eyes grow wide. Oh, he's serious about this. "Bakugou--"

He interrupts her again. "Do you like him or not!?"

She sees the desperation and hurt in his bright saffron eyes. His thin eyebrows knitted together, making crevasses in his forehead. A moment of silence passes through the air, making it hard for Bakugou to breathe.

Her face stays neutral, yet her eyes are soft. Soft enough for Bakugou to see the truth. "Not the way you're thinking, no. I don't like him like that."

He doesn't believe it.

She smiles and walks closer to him to rub his arms in comfort. "We're just buddies! I--" He steps back from her, eyes going unfocused.

"Bullshit. I see how he looks at you. Like you made the fucking sun and life itself. And you just-- let it happen! I--"

"Katsuki."

That two-syllable name carried so much power, it made him shut up immediately as her velvety voice sliced through his mind. She never calls him by his first name unless she means business. And she means business.

He looks up at her, now sitting on his bed like a goddess on her throne. She does things effortlessly and gracefully. It makes sense for Denki to fall in love with her. She has him around her finger, just like Bakugou.

She taps beside her, beckoning Bakugou to sit next to her.

"Come."

Bakugou frowns. "Y/n, no." His voice betrays him, making it to be weak and cracked. She says it again, with just the same soft force she uses every time someone doesn't listen to her. "Come here."

He lets out a shaky breath and trudges slowly to her. He plops down next to her, her addictive scent taking over his mind. He always felt safe and small next to his girlfriend. And he feels it now; but he also feels like he's in trouble.

She puts her hand on his naked shoulder, goosebumps already forming from her gentle touch. "Remember what we talked about? About voicing our feelings better?" She says. Bakugou remembers. Instead of killing his vocal cords and exploding everything in anger like he used to do when he was younger, she taught him how to have better communication skills. Not just with her, but with everyone. He's gotten better. But it's just so easy to go back to the old habits.

Bakugou nods.

She hums. "I understand that you're mad. But, please. Talk to me like an adult. Not a kid."

That's right. They're not kids anymore. They're grown now. In college. Owning a shared apartment. Owning a car. Paying bills. Being pro-heroes.

And with a situation like this, it's best to have a sit down and talk about it thoroughly.

Bakugou breathes out. His fingers playing with each other. He's so tense you could throw a boulder at him and it would break. The quiet makes both of them feel on edge, but Bakugou needs to find the right words.

"When we go over to the dorms, and I see you and Kaminari play those stupid ass games," He can feel the anger bubble up again. He won't let it take over, so he clears his throat and takes a deep breath. "And I see you leaning on him, and how..."

It hurts him to say this.

"--Natural, it looks... I get this pit in my stomach that doesn't go away. Even if I leave the room, it's still there. It lingers for a long time. And then I get those thoughts in my head. That I'm not good enough for you. That I'm not caring, or attentive, or funny enough for you to act like that around me. I just... I get so jealous and angry that he--" He sniffs, nose getting runny. He can feel it. The tears welling up in his eyes. "That he might take you away from me. And I don't want that to happen. You- you mean everything to me. I love you so much and I'm sorry if I'm not good enough for you--"

A deep kiss stops him from finishing that sentence. He closes his eyes and melts into it, feeling at home.

"Don't you dare say that about yourself. Ever. Do you understand?" She frowns at him, hurt across her face because he said those horrible things about himself. He whimpers a little and nods. Her hands go up to his face and cradle his cheeks.

"Katsuki, baby, you are enough for me. You're honestly way more than I can ever imagine." She chuckles. She searches for his eyes, and when she finds them she smiles. Eye contact means everything to her. It's the doorway to the soul, and words have more meaning when you look into someone's eyes. "You're perfect for me. Your mind, your body, your soul. Everything. And also, Denki is my friend! I've known him since middle school. I've told you this."

Fuck.

His cheeks start to burn. "Oh. Right. I-"

"Forgot? Mhm, I can see that. But I understand where you're coming from. I have been hanging out with him more than I thought. And I forgot about my darling boyfriend." She kisses his forehead and draws him in for a hug. His arms go around her waist immediately as he molds into her. "I'm sorry, baby. Please voice how you feel more." Her voice is laced with care and sincerity. She cares for me. He thinks. He screws his eyes closed and sighs.

She loves me.

"I will. I will, I swear. I just- I missed you. S-so much." He whispers. Who knew a hunk of a man can shrink down to a vulnerable boy.

Bakugou sniffs, tears now falling on his cheeks. "You just do so much with him... I thought I felt you slipping and I panicked--" She shushes him delicately while massaging his scalp. That action always made Bakugou calm down and find serenity. He cries some more into her chest until she pulls away and looks at him.

"Baby I do such little things with him. He's not my focus." She coos. She bumps her forehead on his before whispering these words that made Bakugou's heart soar.

"You are."

Their lips connect in a deep, passionate kiss. All the insecurity splatters away from his mind. She loves me.

She loves me. She loves me. She loves me.

"Answer me this, Katsu. Who do I kiss every waking moment?"

He gulps. "Me."

She hums. Her legs drape over his lap, big hands going to her supple hips quickly.

"Who helps me when I have trouble doing my homework?" She slowly pushes him on the bed, neither of them breaking eye contact.

"Me."

Now laying on the bed, her nimble fingers go under his tank top. The weight of her fingerpads and the slight scratch from her nails feels heavenly.

"Who do I give presents to?" She says lowly, the moonlight hitting her skin perfectly.

Bakugou can't breathe. He can feel himself submitting to her. He's not complaining. "Me..."

She starts to peck his neck with soft kisses, making him groan.

"Who do I cuddle with at night when we sleep?"

He breathes heavily. "M-me."

They both lowly moan against each other. Her lips still kissing his searing skin, and her hands still caressing him. The tank top flew off somewhere, now his tanned skin now on display. Her fingers feel up his waist, his abs and his chest. Bakugou relishes in the feeling of being touched like this.

And being kissed like this.

He stifles a moan when she places a hickey on his collarbone. She sighs and whispers in his ear.

"Who do I pleasure almost everyday?"

He bites his lip and whimpers, tears forming in his eyes again.

"Me...!"

She giggles when his voice goes up an octave as she tweaked his nipples. It always made his brain turn into mush. Her hand cradles his blushing cheek.

"Who's name do I scream out at night?"

His heart feels like it's going to burst out of his chest. The teasing, plus this? Soul is gone.

His face turns into a shy emotion; eyelashes fluttering. "Mine..."

She smiles widely.

"Exactly. I am yours."

She kisses his lips again, like forming a signature for a contract.

"And who's name do you cry out when you're getting fucked?" She let's out a breath when she feels his hips buck into her. He lets out a broken whine.

"Y-yours."

She kisses him again, but with more force. More tongue. She's signing the contract again, and this is final. He moans in her mouth when she pulls on his hair.

She let's him breathe again, strings of saliva connecting to their lips. She wipes it off with her thumb and smirks.

"And you are mine."

Her eyes sparkle with a neon blue hue, and so does Bakugou's. He feels... different. But it's a good different. Like he can see from her eyes. And feel what she feels. He feels connected to her on such a universal level, he can't explain it.

"We belong to each other, Bakugou. We always will; ever since the first year in UA. That will never change. Understand?"

"Y-yes. I understand."

She smiles as she kisses his cheeks. Her arms go around his neck and pulls him into a hug.

"I love you, my darling baby boy. I always will." She whispers in his ear. Bakugou's cheeks heat up. His lips form into a soft smile.

"I love you too." He mumbles into the crook of her neck.

Such bliss, such peace.

Peace within him, within his mind. Bakugou's so lucky to have some one like her in his life.

After about ten minutes of comfortable silence, she speaks up.

"Denki is with Jiro and Shinso anyway. He doesn't like me like that."

Bakugou jolts. "Wait, whAT"

Likes and reblogs are appreciated! .♡

Or something like that idk

#this was fun to write tbh #black reader #x reader #black fem reader #black!reader #bnha x black!reader #bnha x reader #fem!reader #drabble #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x fem!reader #bakugou x black reader #bakugou fluff #bakugou angst #mha kaminari #mha bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x femreader

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thewritingbeforesunrise · 1 year

Text

Confession.

18+ ONLY. MINORS DNI

______________________________________

A/N: This has been sitting in my drafts for a bit and I finally decided to post it. I hope you like it.

This entire fic was inspired by this picture, but you can really imagine Josh how you prefer in this one. I also drew inspiration from that cursed audio of him whimpering that was circulating a while ago.

Word count: 7K

Pairing: Josh x female!reader

Warnings: NSFW 18+ONLY, graphic sexual content, language, sexual tension, oral (m!receiving).

Link to Part 2

Summary: An unexpected turn of events leads Josh to make an embarrassing confession.

_____________________________________

A sharp knock on your door made you jump out of your skin as you were tidying up the green room you were occupying.

"Y/N! Open the fucking door!" You heard a very familiar voice shout from the other side.

You thought the boys were already on stage by now, you thought you heard the last call at least five minutes ago.

What is he doing here?

The knocking continued, even harder than before, so you quickly ran to the door.

As soon as the lock clicked, Josh stormed inside and started rambling, words going at miles a minute.

He was already wearing his golden cape over the white jumpsuit with golden marine embroidery that you had designed just for him a couple of months prior, following his directions.

After a second, you stopped his ramblings, grasping his shoulders and shaking him slightly.

"JOSH!" You shouted over his words and he finally stopped.

"What's wrong? Why is your jumpsuit half unbuttoned? And why are you not on stage right now?" You fired these questions rapidly, to better understand the situation and he groaned.

"Well, that's clearly the fucking problem here!" He said, hands stroking his hair nervously as he gestured to the zipper.

"This damn zipper isn't working. And I can't go on stage in front of twenty thousand people like this, right? So that's why I am here." He whined.

He was standing next to the door, his exposed chest was glistening with sweat and rising and falling rapidly as he panted, stressed and nervous.

The zipper was blocked down past his navel, under the little belt that circled his waist, his happy trail was exposed.

You started to blush.

"I need your help, I tried everything. I can't pull it up or down. I thought about using candle wax but I am afraid to stain the fabric and the more I try to open or close it, the more I am afraid to break it. I tried to untangle the fabric from the inside but I couldn't. And I can't even change because it WON'T GO DOWN." He sounded really frustrated and said this while tugging at the zipper to prove his point.

"I am trapped, Y/N! I need your help" He whined in defeat leaning against the wall and squeezing his eyes shut.

You couldn't help but look at his chest and feel a little tingle run down your spine.

I have to stay professional.

You thought, your eyes following his rising and falling chest.

You quickly recovered and tried to reassure him.

"Let's see what I can do to help you. If I can't do anything I am going to cut the zipper and I am going to stitch it again. You can wear another jumpsuit tonight." You said matter of factly, coming closer to where he was standing.

"Oh fuck" He exclaimed and he grasped his head between his hands.

"What?" You said, a confused expression slowly made its way on your face.

"I can't wear another one, they are all to the cleaners. This is the only one I have" he said in an apologetic tone and you panicked.

"I am in charge of the wardrobe. Who did allow that? I am sure I didn't." You replied confused and a bit angry.

"I did" he said with a guilty smile.

You glared at him and he giggled. That stupid giggle you loved in other contexts. Now, you positively hated him.

"I should make you go on stage like this, troublemaker" you hissed through clenched teeth.

"Please don't, help me, please" he was begging you now. You watched how he had his hands joined, bottom lip pushed out and puppy eyes.

As if it was really a problem for him. You knew that he didn't have any qualms about showing way too much of himself to the crowd, sometimes.

You glared at him, but you began to think about what you could do to help.

You grabbed the zipper and tried to push upwards and downwards delicately. Obviously it didn't work.

You knew what you had to do. The zipper probably wasn't working because some fabric had caught into it from the inside.

"Maybe the fabric of your boxers got caught inside the zipper, that's why it's not working" you said and he giggled again.

"That's impossible, mama" he said playfully and when he understood you didn't get it, he worded it for you.

"It's impossible because I'm not wearing any" he said in a whisper and you blushed.

Oh God

To make it work you had to stick your hands inside it and try to untangle it.

And there was no way you could do that without pushing your hands really close to his private parts.

Just when you were thinking of another solution, a voice sounded from the hallway.

"Three minutes to the stage, you are already late!" Someone shouted and he panicked.

"C'mon Y/N! Do something" he pleaded and you knew you had no other option.

You grabbed the zipper again and leaned closer to him. Your fingers slowly made their way on the fabric, around it and slowly dipped inside.

You noticed how his breathing stopped as your fingertips slowly grazed the hot skin of his tummy, his hair there tickling you lightly.

You tried to suppress the deep blush that was creeping onto your cheeks as your fingertips slowly traced the zipper on the inside, till you located the problem.

You were tracing your finger on the little bump of fabric that was causing the tangle when the door flew open and Jake pranced into the room.

He stopped dead in his tracks as he assessed the scene in front of his eyes, mistaking it completely.

You saw the smirk growing on his lips, his eyes never leaving your hand literally down his brother's pants as you quickly pulled it away.

"Well well well, have I interrupted something, here?" He said, in a playful mocking tone.

It was Josh's turn to speak now.

"Fuck off, Jacob. Y/N is helping me unstuck this damn zipper" he said harshly, panting slightly.

"Yes, of course, whatever you say, brother. And I am going to believe this, right? I am not stupid, Joshua." Jake replied, his smirk still beaming.

The deep blush covering your cheeks wasn't helping the singer prove his point. You knew you looked very guilty right now.

"Y/N, you have to make it quick, you have two minutes left to fix the "help my brother with the zipper" thing that 's going on here." Jake said and winked towards you, grabbing a water bottle.

You cleared your throat and crossed your arms.

"Look, Jake, it really is stuck like that" you said, tugging uselessly at the zipper to prove your point.

"And, unless you want to be the one with a hand inside your brother's pants, you better let me do my job or he is coming on stage like this, OK? You threatened him by pointing your finger at him.

He quickly raised his hands and made a retching sound at the idea you just suggested.

"Well, I think I am going to give you some privacy." Jake said while chuckling and wiggling his eyebrows towards you. He left quickly before Josh could hit him.

As Jake opened the door a voice shouted "One minute to the stage!"

Your eyes widened and so did Josh's. You quickly resumed your position in front of him and you slowly traced the zipper with your fingers.

You slipped them inside the jumpsuit and found the problem.

You tried to tug lightly a few times but it didn't work. You felt how his breath hitched in his throat as the fabric slowly shifted against his bare skin and you blushed.

Your blush intensified as you noticed how the situation was affecting him.

Your hands were so close to his crotch that you knew he couldn't keep his mind from wondering what could happen if you pushed your hand lower.

Actually, you could see very well the effect those thoughts were having on him, in the growing erection he was sporting. You could also feel his gaze burning on your face, but you couldn't bring yourself to meet his eyes.

You grabbed the zipper with your other hand and tugged upwards. At the same time the hand that was tucked in his pants tugged downwards and the zipper unlatched.

The force with which you tugged at it caused your hand to dip lower in his pants and you both gasped at the same time.

Oh, fuck.

You were almost sure you had touched him in the process and, rapid as a lightning you pulled your hand out of the jumpsuit.

You couldn't look him in the eyes so you turned around to get a bottle of water for yourself.

You couldn't see his shocked and slightly aroused expression as he thought about what had just happened.

After a few seconds you heard him move and you heard the sound of the jumpsuit zipping up.

"Y/N, how do I look?" He asked you, admiring himself in the full length mirror and checking his hair.

You turned around to properly look at him and he looked ravishing, as always.

You were really proud of the work you had done while tailoring this jumpsuit. It was your favourite because it looked divine on him, it suited him perfectly. This meant that you could easily see every detail of his body. And, right now, the fabric was clinging to the very prominent bulge between his legs, making it impossible for you to focus properly on anything else.

You quickly averted your gaze and told him he looked great, ushering him out of the room to join his bandmates there.

In the hallway, the moment Jake made eye contact with you, he smirked and winked, making you blush with embarrassment and anger.

You didn't have time to tell him off because the moment Josh set foot in the hallway, they were quickly ushered to the stage.

You went back to the green room and leaned against the wall, trying to process the last ten minutes.

Thinking about what had just happened caused your heartbeat to quicken. You tidied the room and then sat on the couch, trying to calm down a bit.

After a while, you managed to regain your composure and decided to go check from the side of the stage if Josh had finally managed to destroy the only jumpsuit he had left and flash twenty thousand people with a visual of his bare dick.

Not that he minded, you knew that very well.

You walked along the same corridor the boys had been ushered from less than an hour ago and you reached the side of the stage where Jake was.

He was prancing around absolutely smashing it with his Gibson, as always.

As he spotted you, he winked and a menacing smug smirk twisted his features.

You knew he had something in mind, you had seen the very thought develop in his beautiful talented brain.

He kept eye contact with you as his hand moved a few times up and down the fretboard of his guitar, very suggestively, producing a moaning sound.

You knew he was mimicking the actions he thought he had seen his brother and you partake in inside the green room.

To put the cherry on top, you blushed wildly at his action, from embarrassment, but he mistook it for guilt and laughed at your expenses.

Smug bastard.

You decided to avert your eyes from his whoring demeanor only to land on his twin, who was already watching you.

He was still clothed, thank God, but the white fabric of his jumpsuit didn't conceal much. You could see, and so could everybody else, that the bulge was still there, and it was even more prominent than before.

You were about to go back to the green room when you noticed an imperceptible movement from Josh. The crowd in front of them didn't catch it, but you, standing there at the side of the stage, very much could.

He was grinding the tip of his erection against the mic stand, while singing.

It was almost non-existent at first, but he became more and more impatient as the time passed and his movements couldn't be mistaken from your point of view.

The moment his eyes landed on you, he did it again, but this time he let his head dangle backwards, exposing his sweaty throat and neck and keeping his mouth open in a display of a silent moan.

He swallowed and you had to forcefully avert your eyes from the indecent bobbing of his Adam apple.

He even brought his hands up and arched his back with a little satisfied smirk on his beautiful face.

You turned around and almost sprinted towards your green room, heartbeat going a mile a minute.

The concert was phantasmagorical as always.

When you heard the last pounds of Danny's drums you knew they were almost done.

But this time you knew you wouldn't leave the venue soon, like you always did, following the boys in hotels or on the tour bus.

This time the owners of the venue had organised an afterparty for the band and the crew and everyone was invited. The boys had previously asked you if you were going to come and you didn't want to tell them no. So, even if you didn't like afterparties very much you agreed.

After a while, you heard the boys approach your door in the corridor and you went to open it to tell them how incredible they had been on stage.

When you opened the door, Sam and Danny passed by quickly and waved to you, heading to their respective green rooms.

Behind them you spotted the twins and, when they saw you waving at them too, they winked to you in sinc.

Oh God. If alone they were trouble, together those two were an absolute menace.

You blushed and they snickered. Before you could hide into your green room, a black boot stopped the door from closing.

You knew who it was even before he entered.

Jake strutted inside, followed by Josh, still clad in the tight white jumpsuit. They were both sweaty. Jake's hair was clinging to his neck and throat and Josh curls were disheveled and damp from the exertion of performing.

"Are you coming to the afterparty, Y/N, right?" Jake said before gulping down half a water bottle in one go.

"You promised you would, so don't make up excuses or we are dragging you there by force" Josh said puffing his sweaty chest out, acting like a macho.

"Well, macho man, you are not dragging me anywhere, and remember that, even if you wanted to, you would have to catch me first." You told him playfully, making him and Jake laugh.

"Just kidding Y/N, I wouldn't drag you anywhere. I would never force you to do something you don't want to." He said truthfully.

"Plus, I am a bit afraid of you, if I have to be honest. You are always so calm and collected, you can hide very well what goes on in that little beautiful head of yours." He said, smirking.

"Still waters run deep, brother" you heard Jake utter with a knowing tone, smug smirk plastered on his plump pouty lips.

They exchanged a look you didn't understand, their twin telepathy was working at its finest.

"C'mon boys, you have ten minutes to shower and clean up before the party" you said looking at your watch.

They thanked you and headed to their green rooms.

You started to get ready, checking your almost non-existent make-up, your outfit and your hair.

You were about to exit when you heard a scream from the other side of the wall.

It was Josh.

You exited the room and simultaneously, his door flew open.

You could see very well that he was angry. You could also see very well that he was having the same problem with the jumpsuit as before. The zipper was stuck in the same spot as before, if possible even a little lower, exposing a whole lot of skin.

"Y/N!" He whined like a toddler.

"Didn't I told you that you had to be extra careful with this zipper?" You questioned him, already knowing that your multiple warnings had fallen on deaf ears, as always.

"Yes, but…" he started but was interrupted by another crew member.

"Guys, c'mon let's go. The party has started, you are the only people that are still missing" he said.

In the meanwhile, Jake had sauntered out of his room and was leaning against the wall across from you and his brother, smirking, with his hair still wet from the shower.

"Are you coming to the party like that, big brother?" Jake snickered pointing at his brother's state of undress.

"Not yet, Jakey, you go first and then we will join you as soon as Y/N fixes this damn zipper once and for all." The singer told him.

Jake's eyes landed on you, and he winked, coming closer, like a tiger stalking his prey.

You stayed frozen on the spot as he approached you.

The smell of his body wash was clouding your senses.

"Don't be late, it won't take much anyway, '' he said in a sultry manner, sounding cryptic as always. You pinpointed a bit of irony towards his brother state and you blushed.

"Fuck off, Jakey" Josh said grasping your wrist and leading you towards his room.

Jake left you two alone, but before leaving, he waved and winked.

Once you were inside the room, you closed the door and he groaned, fed up with the jumpsuit.

"I am not going to this party like this" he said, nothing but deadpanning.

"Josh, don't be dramatic, I am going to fix this zipper, I prosise, then you can go have fun" you tried to reassure him, but you understood there was something else bothering him.

You approached him and guided him against the wall to keep him still while you worked on the zipper.

The moment his back touched the wall with a low thud, he exhaled a little breathy whimper that could have gone almost unnoticed if the room wasn't so silent.

This time, having a bit more time to work on it, you crouched down on your knees to be eye-level with the problem.

He closed his eyes and leant his head back on the wall, squeezing his eyes and his fists at his sides.

As soon as your fingers skimmed on the zipper, he bit his lips, with his eyes still closed.

You decided to pay no mind to him and traced your fingers on the inside of the zipper noticing the problem immediately. In doing so you brushed your fingers timidly on his flushed skin.

He couldn't take it anymore.

He grasped your wrist and stopped you.

You gasped and searched his eyes. He drew a shuddering breath, then looked at you and regretted it immediately.

Seeing you like that, on your knees and with your big doe eyes looking up at him was worsening his state.

You tried to pay no mind to the prominent bulge in his pants, but you were falling miserably.

"Josh" you whispered "Are you ok? Did I do something wrong?"

"No, absolutely not, it's not that…" he said and trailed off.

"What is it then? I am going to help you if I can" you reassured him and he laughed.

"Well it wouldn't be really professional from me" he said, hardly looking you in the eyes.

"Give it a try. The worst that can happen is that I am going to slap your pretty face, Joshua" you said playfully and he snorted out a laugh.

"What if that's something I'm into, Y/N?" He said with a glint in his eyes, resembling his carefree everyday self.

"Well, that's good for you I suppose. C'mon, spit it out, what's bothering you?" You asked him still on your knees, with his fingers wrapped around your wrist.

He didn't say anything at first, but his face was portraying his inner struggle very well.

You were about to continue fixing his zipper when he spoke.

"It's just that…" he stopped and shook his head.

Then he tried to go on, but shut up again.

You decided not to push him, letting him organize his ideas.

Then he spoke, looking directly at you.

"It's just that it's been a while" he said and you could see a little blush spread on the apples of his cheek.

A meek smile was adorning his beautiful lips.

You wanted to punch yourself because of the enormous amount of time it took you to really understand what he meant.

He mistook your embarrassment with confusion and decided to explain himself better.

"It's been a while since I had a beautiful girl with her hands inside my jumpsuit, let alone on her knees in front of me like you are now." He said, finally meeting your gaze.

You blushed wildly at his confession.

"And believe me, it's not that I didn't try to take the matter into my own hands, literally, but it just doesn't work anymore, I don't know why" he pointed out with a humorless laugh.

"What do you mean it doesn't work, Josh?" You asked him before you could stop yourself.

He opened and closed his mouth. For once in his life he didn't know what to say.

"In the sense that you do it and after it feels like you didn't and you feel the need to do it again or…" you voiced in a whisper trying to understand more.

He shook his head.

"I can't even finish Y/N. I feel like I am too wound up for it. I am anxious about it and anxiety worsens my state. To really enjoy it I should be relaxed, and right now I am absolutely not. I don't know what to do and I don't know who I should talk to about it. Telling my mother is absolutely out of the question.

Sam would make fun of me and Danny would be too embarrassed to speak." He said almost without breathing.

"Have you tried talking about it to your twin?" You suggested and he scoffed.

"I have tried but you won't like the answer." He said with a tired smile.

"What did he say?" You pressed him.

"He told me… never mind… forget about it. Just help me with this zipper so we can go have fun at the party." He said, yanking uselessly at the zipper, without meeting your gaze.

You straightened up to be eye level with him pointing a finger in his face.

"You are not going anywhere until you tell me what your brother suggested" you threatened him and he smirked.

"You won't like it" he said in a defiant manner trying to discourage you.

"Well, let me at least think for myself, Joshua," you retorted.

"Ok, but don't tell me I didn't warn you. He told me to ask for your help, Y/N." He said and you blushed under his fiery gaze.

You already knew that probably Jake's advice would involve something dirty and yourself, but hearing Josh say it caused a shiver to run down your spine.

Now you understood all the little jokes, winks and sneers Jake kept sending your way for a while.

"Just drop it Y/N, it doesn't matter, let's go to the party, I don't care if people see me like this. Already twenty thousand people have, I am not afraid of thirty more" He said grabbing your wrist and starting to walk towards the door

You resisted him.

You couldn't believe you were really considering it, but he was your friend and you couldn't just ignore his suffering and go on like it was nothing.

He had the courage to confess it to you so you wanted to help him.

He let go of your wrist and watched you closely, not understanding.

You turned towards the door and reached it.

Once you were in front of it, you heard his breath leave his lungs in a defeated huff. It was an almost imperceptible sound and you knew he didn't want you to hear it, but you did.

He thought you were going to leave.

Your hand reached for the key and, without a word, you turned it, closing the door.

You could feel his stare burning on the back of your head.

You didn't immediately turn around. You tried to heaven out your breath and stop the trembling of your hands, first.

When you turned, he was already watching you.

You moved and he backed away from you, until he was again with his back against the wall.

You were in front of him now.

You couldn't believe you were about to do this.

It's not that your mind had never indulged in such thoughts. How could you not. You had eyes, you couldn't deny that he was astonishingly beautiful.

But thinking about really touching him was making you nervous. What if you couldn't help him? What if that ruined your friendship and your working relationship with him?

He was staring at you, not even blinking, but his breathing was becoming ragged. A little whimpery noise escaped his lips and you couldn't think straight anymore.

Your hand pressed on his chest, delicately but firmly pinning him to the wall.

"Please" he whispered and you couldn't deny him.

Two of your fingers touched his chin and traced further down the hollow of his throat, his toned flushed chest painfully slow and you swore you saw him twitch in his pants.

You continued till his navel then stopped.

He swallowed, looking directly into your eyes but didn't say anything.

You were the one leading the game and you could decide everything.

Your fingers inched downwards and he whimpered softly into his throat.

You circled his navel and then began tracing his soft happy trail.

His eyes never left the movement of your fingers.

As you reached the zipper you felt him quiver.

You slowly dipped them inside and his lips parted with a silent gasp.

His skin was scorching hot and so soft underneath your cold fingertips.

You went further down and traced them on the edge of the patch of coarse pubic hair there.

You were about to dip your hand further down his pants when a thundering knock threatened to send the poor door to the ground.

"JOSHUA, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING? YOU ARE NEEDED AT THE PARTY RIGHT ABOUT NOW. SO STOP ADMIRING YOURSELF IN THE MIRROR AND GET YOUR ASS DOWN THERE" a booming voice you recognised as their manager's snarled from the other side.

You jumped away from him with both your hands on your mouth trying to cover any kind of sound.

"I AM ALMOST READY, GIVE ME A MINUTE" Josh shouted from the inside.

"You have thirty seconds, or I am bringing you down myself" you heard the other man threaten before running away.

Josh huffed, defeated.

"Let's go" He said without meeting your eyes

"You don't want to change? I can unstitch the zipper…" you tried to say but he interrupted you.

"No Y/N, let's go, don't worry" he motioned you outside and you followed him.

Thankfully, the party ended pretty quickly so it wasn't too late when the crew, the boys and you retreated back to the hotel that fortunately was on the other side of the road.

As you checked in, you noticed that your key number was different from the one of the other crew members. You understood that the hotel concierge had assigned you a room on the same floor as the guys.

As you reached your floor with the fastest lift you had ever seen, Sam, Danny and Jake went right, wishing you good night, while you and Josh, who was wearing a tshirt that he had borrowed from Danny to cover his modesty, headed left, following the numbers on the walls.

As you entered your room, you jumped face first on the bed, exhausted.

After a while a knock on your door startled you.

"Sorry, Y/N. It's me again" you heard Josh mumble from the other side of the door.

You opened it and ushered him inside.

He was still wearing the damaged jumpsuit.

"Right, let me grab my scissors so I can try to unstitch this without tearing up the fabric." You said, rummaging through your bag.

"Stay there" you said and approached him.

He was still nervous and fidgety, but once you came closer to him he tried to calm down.

You pushed him lightly to lean against the wall and his breathing picked up slightly.

The situation of the zipper was the same as before and so was the situation in his pants. He was positively straining against them.

You tried to concentrate on freeing him from the constriction of the jumpsuit.

Unceremoniously, you knelt down and stuck your fingers in the jumpsuit, bringing the white fabric away from his skin and closer to your face, to be able to work without cutting him.

Inevitably this caused the fabric to drag on his flushed skin, eliciting a strangled sound from deep in his chest.

"Sorry" you mumbled and then started working.

You managed to cut some threads and then you slowly moved downwards to unstitch the bottom of the zipper.

The break of a particular tight thread you were carefully yanking caused your wrist to brush inadvertently against his bulge and he almost doubled over with a pained groan.

He needs help, he can't relax like this, you thought blushing.

"I think you can free yourself from this burden now" you said referring to the damned jumpsuit, straightening up to look him in the eyes, with the torn half of the zipper in hand.

He looked even more handsome against that dark wooden wall. His tanned skin was very exposed thanks to the missing zipper and gleaming in contrast with the stark white of the jumpsuit.

You knew he wanted to say something, anything to convince you to help him, but he couldn't find the courage.

You could see the battle between feeling good at last and staying professional behind his soft deep brown eyes.

You decided to ease his stress and help him.

"Thank you Y/N, you are the only one who can put up with me without freaking out. Thank you for your patience with this thing" he said sheepishly, pointing at the jumpsuit.

He was about to turn around and go when you stopped him.

"Josh" you said and the hand he had on the door handle dropped.

"Hmm?" He said turning around slowly.

You were the fidgety one now, wringing your hands in front of you.

You both started talking at the same time.

"For what I said earlier…" he started

"Earlier in the green room…" your voices overlapped and you both blushed.

"Y/N, forget about it, it was absolutely unprofessional on my part, even rude. I am really sorry if I have upset you" he said genuinely concerned looking down at the floor.

"Josh, it's ok, don't worry, I am not upset at all" you said and he smiled.

He thanked you, wished you goodnight and was about to exit when you stopped him with a hand on his bicep.

"Josh, wait…" you whispered.

He slowly turned around and smiled at you. His usual beaming smile was blinding you now, and intimidating you at the same time.

"Let me…" you tried to say but you stopped, embarrassed

You exhaled and then went on.

"Let me help you, you can't stay like that" you whispered without meeting his eyes.

"You don't have to, I will figure something out, you have already done enough for me tonight." He said truthfully.

"Ok, bye Josh, have a goodnight" you waved at him and he exited.

You got ready for bed, but you couldn't sleep. You kept tossing and turning around uselessly thinking very unholy things about the man sharing your wall right now, who, to make matters worse, happened to be your boss.

You were about to stand and make a cup of tea, to help you calm down, when you heard the water running and a muffled groan on the other side of the wall.

Then nothing.

After a few seconds, you heard it again, this time it was a curse and a long drawn out whimper.

You couldn't mistake what he was doing, or at least, trying to do.

Those noises erased even the last bit of sleep that your brain possessed and turned you on beyond belief.

Your panties were sticking to your skin now and you almost slipped one hand into them for a quick needed solo session, but you stopped.

He sounded like he was in pain. He wasn't having fun doing that, like he should be. You couldn't let him feel like that. You wanted to help him, or at least try to.

You stood and, without a thought, a second later you were knocking softly at his door.

Nothing

You knocked again and you heard some commotion coming from the other side.

You heard the peep-hole open then close and he finally opened the door.

"Y/N? Is everything ok?" He asked. He had only a towel on, his curls damp and unruly.

"Yes…well, no. I couldn't sleep and I heard you were awake too and I wanted to know if you wanted to watch a film with me" you blatantly lied to him, but what else could you do? Or say?

"Hi Josh, I heard you were trying to masturbate in the shower and I wanted to help you?" No way, you really couldn't tell him that.

He smiled softly and let you in.

"Of course, go sit on the bed, I am going to change and I'll join you in a minute" he said softly, going to the bathroom to change.

You sat against the headboard and waited for him, wringing your hands together and torturing your bottom lip with your teeth, until it was almost bleeding.

After a while, he came back clad into a soft worn white tshirt and grey shorts. He climbed on the bed and sat, mirroring your position.

"Do you have any idea on which film you want to see, Y/N?" He said, patting your bare thigh.

This made you shiver, but you masked it with a shrug.

"No, Josh, I trust you with the choice" you said, feeling his hand burn on your bare skin.

You two set on a movie that was already playing on some channel. He had already seen it and granted you it was good.

You watched it in silence for a while.

You were slowly drifting off to sleep, with your head on his shoulder, but a sex scene came on the screen and, suddenly, you were wide awake again.

You felt him tense but you didn't say anything.

You heard him shift as the scene progressed and an imperceptible whine left his lips because his movement caused the cotton of his shorts to caress his still strained cock.

He thought you were sleeping so he slowly lowered you on the pillow and stood. He started to pad towards the bathroom but you stopped him with a call of his name.

"Josh" you whispered and he stopped but didn't turn.

You stood and reached him.

He turned and leant against the wall, head in his hands, panting.

You couldn't wait anymore.

You wanted to make him feel good.

You grabbed his wrists and lowered them to his sides. He looked at you then, with big shiny eyes. He looked so young and tired. His expression was painful and conflicted.

"Stop me if this is something you don't want." You whispered into his ear, placing a trembling hand on his chest and meeting his nervous gaze.

"Y/N, I don't want you to do this" he tried to say but, as you pressed him a bit more against the wall, he shivered and a breathy impatient whine left his lips.

"Shh Josh, just tell me what you need, nobody will know about this" you whispered.

"Please…" he whispered back.

You slowly lifted his tshirt exposing his tanned chest and then you discarded it on the floor.

His gaze was smoldering.

"Please what, Joshua?" You whispered, encouraging.

He squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them again, locking gazes with you. You saw a new fervor inside them.

"Please, touch me" he huffed out.

You repeated the same actions that their manager had interrupted before into the green room.

You placed two fingers on his chin, and slowly dragged them down, on his neck, between his pecs and on his tummy. You swirled them slowly around his navel and trailed them even lower, following his happy trail and stopping against the hem of his shorts.

He was panting now, his heavy breathing was the only sound filling the room.

You moved even closer to him to whisper into his ear. In doing so you placed a trembling hand on his chest, right on his heart. It was beating furiously underneath your palm and it only spurred you on.

"Is it ok if I take these off?" You asked, tracing your finger on the waistband of his shorts.

"Please" he whispered.

You knelt down and started kissing the flushed skin right above the waistband. You sucked a faint mark there and he rewarded you with a breathy moan of your name.

You hooked a finger into the waistband and started to pull his shorts down, slowly.

"Fuck" he groaned as the fabric touched his sensitive skin.

As your fingers moved the cotton downwards, you felt him shiver, goosebumps rising on the soft skin of his hips.

The grey fabric pooled at his feet and a relieved moan left his lips as his erection was freed from that constriction.

Your eyes were trained on him and your mouth watered.

He was rock hard and twitching against his tummy, the skin was flushed and the head was an angry shade of red and already leaking.

White drops of precum were adorning his sensitive tip. He was beautiful.

The mere contact with the slightly cooler air of the room, caused his hips to buck forward, in search of friction.

"Hand or mouth, Josh?" You asked and he groaned.

"Whatever you want, Y/N, whatever" he all but sobbed, and you couldn't take it anymore. You needed to taste him.

You decided for a combination of both and you went to work.

You slowly wetted your lips and swirled the hot tip of your tongue on his head, wrapping your hand slowly around him.

He moaned, loudly, and you whimpered. His skin was scorching hot and his salty taste was heavenly.

The sudden contact with your warm tongue caused him to almost lose his balance. You spotted an armchair, close to where you were kneeling and motioned for him to take a seat.

"Josh, sit down" you said and he nodded.

When he sat down, you resumed your position between his legs and he twitched.

"Lay back and relax" you told him and he obliged without a single word.

You took the tip between your lips and slowly made out with it, swirling your tongue around the foreskin, paying extra attention to the little spot under his head that had his hands claw at the arm rests.

"Oh my… fuck, Y/N" he whined and you stopped, letting him regain his breath.

"When was the last time you came, Josh?" You asked and he blushed.

"Fuck, almost a month ago, I think" he confessed.

In response, you placed your hands on his thighs and took him into your mouth. He doubled over with a loud curse.

With every sucking motion, he was letting out a whimper, signaling to you that he was close.

As you kept pleasuring him, his hips started bucking upwards every time you took him deeper into your mouth.

You tried to fight your gag reflex as he hit the back of your throat a few times. Tears were starting to prickle at the corners of your eyes but you didn't care.

You locked gazes with him and he warned you through gritted teeth.

"Y/N, you better stop if you don't want me to…" he started but trailed off when he felt you swallow around him, the muscles of your throat clenching around him.

"Shit, Y/N, I am cumming." He groaned and a second later you felt his hot release trickle down your throat.

His taste made you feel hazy and lightheaded.

He kept moaning and whining low in his chest as your mouth stayed on him through his entire orgasm.

He let out a shuddering breath but was still hard inside your mouth.

His eyes were shiny and watery, his expression was completely fucked out as he met your gaze.

You kept your mouth on him, despite the soreness of your jaw and started sucking again, gently.

"Fuckfuckfuck" he whispered as both his hands grasped your hair.

You kept swirling your tongue around his shaft, tracing every ridge and vein and sucking relentlessly but gently, positively making him lose his mind.

He couldn't keep quiet, choruses of pleas filled the room and, when your hand started kneading softly at his balls, he came again suddenly without warning and with a wailing satisfied scream.

You swallowed his warm release again without a second thought, savouring every last drop of him.

This time you released him slowly and he shivered at the loss of the warmth that your mouth was providing him.

Without a word, you straightened up, wiped your chin with the back of your hand and left him there, still twitching, naked and bewildered, wondering if what happened was real or a figment of his wicked imagination.

#greta van fleet #greta van fic #greta van smut #gvf fic #josh gvf #josh kiszka smut #josh kiszka x reader #josh kiszka

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uptondixon · 4 months

Text

Daryl & Daugther!Reader - Quarry Era II

Had this in my drafts for ages. I started writing and never finished, but I decided to post anyway. Thank you for all the love on Part 1! I'm sorry I'm not much of a writer to keep this storyline going :( Words: 1591 Warnings: Nightmares Gif not mine Chapter song is Fix You by Coldplay

Part I

"And the tears come streaming down your face, when you lose something you can't replace."

It's been a while since the three of them started the walk back to camp, which was proving to be especially hard for the girl. After the adrenaline went off, the pain on her feet and legs were becoming almost unbearable. With each step she got slower and felt weaker. A headache making its way over her head, probably a mix of pain, hunger and lack of sleep.

Before heading back to camp Daryl offered her water, which she accepted desperately. Even though she was happy the thirst was over, her growling stomach didn't let her forget the days without anything to eat. She didn't mention that, already thankful for the water. However, the girl's skinny body gave Daryl an idea of how hungry she must be.

Daryl and Merle didn't hunt anything, both too focused on the deer, so he made a mental note to feed her as soon as they got to camp. Daryl also tried to take a better look at her wounds, but she didn't let him. He didn't push and decided this was a job for Lori or Carol. They were the mothers of the group and the girl would feel safe with them, he thought.

"She's slowing us down man, if we don't speed up we're going to lose sunlight. This girl is like a damn walker bait. Hell, I can smell her blood from here." Merle complained again.

"I get it Merle! Stop whining alrigh?" Daryl said before approaching the kid.

She had been trailing behind them the whole time, never sparing them a glance and looking almost ready to bolt in the opposite direction at any moment. All of a sudden, Daryl realized that they didn't know her name.

"What's yer name kid?" She looked up at him with wide eyes.

"Y/n." She said, voice almost a whisper.

"Alrigh', Y/n. Look, someone has to check yer wounds and for that we need to get to the camp but ya can barely walk…" Y/n knew he was right. She was scared to let him do anything with her wounds, afraid it would make it hurt even more. But the girl knew that it would only get worse if they didn't get there faster.

"What if I carry ya?" Daryl proposed. "We'll get to the folks faster and everything's gonna be okay." Daryl looked at her expectantly, while Merle was still mumbling some nonsense he chose to again ignore.

Y/n pounded for a moment. She didn't know this guy, even though he seemed to be making an effort to at least make her feel less scared. The same couldn't be said about the other guy, his brother. Even with Daryl's effort, she wasn't sure if trusting him was the right decision. However, it's not like she had any other choice at the moment.

Y/n looked up at Daryl and nodded her head. He handed his crossbow to Merle and picked the girl up. She felt so light and Daryl couldn't help but wonder how long she was alone out there, without food and water.

Y/n wrapped one of her arms around Daryl's neck, looking for something to hold on to. It was weird, how she didn't even know this man but felt safe in his arms. After being alone for months, she really wanted to believe someone good was going to help her.

Daryl arranged the girl in his arms and resumed their walking, Merle leading the way with Daryl's crossbow, aware of any danger.

They arrived at the camp a couple hours later and Daryl came in calling for the first person he saw, which in that case was Lori. "Daryl, oh my god??? Who is that?"

Daryl immediately felt Y/n's arms wrap harder around him. "It's fine kid, don't worry."

"We found her in the woods, alone and hurt."

Minutes later, the whole camp was reunited outside the RV while Lori and Carol were inside with Y/n. The girl felt more at ease with them, like Daryl imagined. But she was still unsure about everything and everyone.

After they treated her wounds and helped her clean up, Daryl brought some of the squirrel from his last hunt along with more food from the camp. Being clean and fed, it was like Y/n could finally think straight again.

Yours later, everyone started to retreat to their tents for the night. Inside the RV, Y/n tried to stay awake, her brain still on alert for some reason. But after a while her body started to give up and she fell asleep to the sounds of the dying conversation outside.

“It will be okay my baby, just run and don’t look back, okay?”

“But mom, what about you?”

“I’ll be right behind you, go!” The little girl ran, but she couldn't help looking back. However, when she did, it made sense why her mother told her not to.

Screams, that’s what Daryl woke up to. He jumped out of his tent and saw Shane, Glenn and Dale outside the RV. “What the hell happened?”

“It 's Y/n.” Shane said “Lori is-” As if on cue, Lori leaves the RV. And to everyone's surprise, she smiled at Daryl.

“She’s asking for you, Daryl.” Daryl looked at Lori as if she had grown another head but entered the RV anyway.

“Hey kid, what's up?” Y/n was sitting in bed, death grip on the blanket and scared look on her face.

“I miss my mom” Daryl didn't know what to say, he didn't understand why she would want him there of all people. “Could you stay here until I fall back asleep?”

To be honest, Y/n didn't want to sleep, not if that meant another nightmare, but her body didn't give her any choice. Daryl saved her, his presence made her feel safe, so maybe he could help the bad dreams go away. Daryl was still confused, but he simply sat down in the chair close to the door and nodded his head, watching as the girl laid down, closing her eyes and falling asleep once again.

The first week went by smoothly, Y/n couldn't think about anything other than sleep. Her body begging for rest in order to heal. She didn't talk much, still overwhelmed with the new environment and everything that happened, but slowly feeling more at ease with everyone. Amy was the one to bring her food the days she stayed in bed. Lori or Carol would brush her long hair after she washed up. Glenn and Dale would make her laugh with silly jokes. Andrea and Jacqui would help change her bandages. Daryl would always check on her at the end of the day. He didn't say much, only put his head inside the RV, saw her asleep and then went to his tent.

The second week was better, she was stronger and more active. However, the nightmares still hunted her at night. Since Y/n got in the camp, Carl and Sophia were anxious to talk with her. But she was weak and scared so the adults held them back. When she started feeling better, spending her days sitting in the staircase of the RV and watching the camp, Carl approached her. With everything that happened Y/n didn't really had the time to think about the other kids at camp. She knew Sophia was Carol's daugther and Carl was Lori's, but they never talked and she suddently felt nervous. It's been ages since she last talked with someone her age.

"Hi, I'm Carl. You're Y/n, right?"

"Yeah.." Y/n smiled awkwardly.

"Shane's going to teach me how to grab frogs, you wanna come too?"

Y/n apreciated the invitation but she couldn't help but ask "Why would you want to grab frogs?"

Carl seemed like he wasn't expecting the question but answered anyway "Well, it's just funny, they jump so high trying to run away" he said with a little laugh "But we release them right after, Shane says they probably taste really bad to eat."

Y/n was the one ot laugh this time, for sure she wouldn't want to eat a frog.

"Okay, it seems fun" Y/n said looking at the boy in front of her.

"Yes! It's going to be really fun, I'll tell Shane you're coming" Y/n laughed again seeing the boy excitement, she couldn't help but feel it too. After the last stressful weeks, it was good to have some distraction.

Y/n met Sophia a couple nights after her frong hunt with Carl and Shane. The camp was having dinner and since she started feeling better, she started to have dinner outside with the others. The first night she went straight to Daryl, he and Merle sitting around a fire further from the main camp. In the short time Y/n was there she could notice how they differed from the rest of the camp. Her, as well, felt unsure, not of Daryl but his brother. The first night she left the RV and went to Daryl, Merle looked at her they same way he looked at her back in the woods. Like she was an walker bait. Daryl didn't showed much affection towards her, at least not in clear eyes. But he silently made sure she was fed and safe every single day, most of the others from the camp would not notice most of the time, but he did and Y/n knew it.

Taglist: @justmare

#the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x daughter reader #daryl dixon x daughter reader #the walking dead fanfiction #twd fanfiction

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drewsbuzzcut · 6 months

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You Are In Love

nick moldenhauer x dallas blankenburg

a so it goes fic (3.2k words!)

warnings: minor angst, mentions doubts and insecurities, talks of condoms and sex, mentions cheating, and I think that’s all (let me know if I didn’t catch anything) this is also majorly influenced by Taylor Swift’s ‘You Are In Love’

Italics are flashbacks!!!

Dallas watches Nick as he dozed on and off, head bobbing before landing on her shoulder. His laptop playing one tree hill is the only light in the room. She’s laying next to him, a hand resting over his heart. Once she yawns, she reaches to shut off the laptop, setting it on his desk. She presses a soft kiss on his jaw, adjusting her body next to him. He slightly wakes up, stretching out her arm, so he can lay his head on it. He’s on his side, an arm wrapped over her waist.

“You’re my best friend,” Nick whispers, slowly blinking at the girl.

She smiles, her hand going out to caress the side of his face. She presses a kiss to his forehead, her heart thundering in her chest. It’s a statement she’s heard before, but this time it feels different. It feels heavier, but not in a negative way. Dallas starts to feel a lump forming in her throat. Now, it’s not only her heart going fast. Millions of thoughts race around her mind, most of them doubts and insecurities. They’ve only been together for about 4 months. Dallas feels like they might be moving too fast, but nothing about their relationship feels wrong or too fast. It’s only when she thinks of their relationship as if she is an outsider. She hates that she sometimes submits herself to feeling guilty for being happy. She’s getting so used to Nick that she’s almost waiting for the other shoe to drop. They may be in a great place now, but he’s a hockey player. He’s already drafted to a NHL team in a different country, she can be easily dropped and easily replaced. She knows all too well. Her brother being a hockey player and always having his hockey friends around, Dallas has seen it firsthand. Her heart aches at the thought of Nick not being in her life anymore. Then, she berates herself for thinking of Nick so poorly. He wouldn’t ever do that to her, right? God, she feels so hopeless, even as he’s laying in her arms, she feels like a stranger to her feelings.

She scoots closer to Nick, his body practically on top of hers, their chests pressed together. As she cards her fingers through his hair, she looks back at some of their memories from the beginning of their relationship to now.

“Are you sure that I can borrow your shirt?” Dallas asks, nervously biting at her nails while Nick’s smile softens at her unsure tone.

“Yes, of course. Your shirt is wet and I’m not letting you walk around with a wet shirt- especially because it’s kind of cold out,” he assures her.

He and Dallas were at a coffee shop, and the girl accidentally spilled her coffee on herself, so Nick suggested that she take the extra shirt he had in his backpack. Unknowingly to Nick, Dallas was excited. She knew his shirt would have the lingering scent of his cologne, and it’d be so soft and worn.

When she goes into the restroom to change, she’s already plotting all the ways she can “accidentally” steal his shirt, ready to sleep in it every night until the smell runs faint.

She cheerily runs out of the stall, looking over herself in the mirror. A smile fights its restraint and lights up her face, her cheeks burning red. She lets out a shocked giggle, biting on her lip to stop the chorus of giggles begging to leave her mouth.

“Damn,” Nick mutters, his head snapping up when he hears the door to the restrooms open. His jaw hangs to the floor, seeing his girl in his shirt. Oh yeah, he could definitely get used to this sight.

“Do I look okay?” Again, her voice is laced with worry.

“Absolutely beautiful, June bug,” he declares, pulling her into his arms and kissing her cheek as they burn and blush.

Dallas feels that same blush form on her cheeks as she leaves that memory and moves to the next. Her mind instantly jumps to the memory of their first fight, disagreement, whatever you want to call it, just last week.

“What’re you looking for?” Nick asks, coming back from the restroom to find Dallas digging through his bedside drawer. There’s something about his tone, but she just can’t place it.

“I was looking for my chapstick I left here,” she answers.

Nick digs through his drawer, handing her the chapstick. He moves to get back on the bed with his girlfriend, but Dallas gets off as soon as he gets on. She starts pacing around and Nick can feel his nerves building up at her quietness.

“So, who’d you use our condoms for?” She finally speaks, her eyes glued on his figure.

“What?” He snaps his head up so fast, actually taken aback by her question.

“You just bought this box of condoms this past Sunday, we’re on Tuesday. We haven’t had sex and this box is almost empty. Who are you using them with? It sure as hell isn’t me!” Dallas exclaims, cheeks burning red in anger and embarrassment. Her tears are already falling even as she wipes at her cheeks, furiously. She starts to gather her belongings, ignoring him as he calls out her name.

“Dallas!” He says again, grabbing ahold of her wrist before she can exit out his door.

“What?! What can you possibly say that can make this better? You’re cheating on me, you’re breaking me,” she cries out.

“Dallas, please let me explain, please! I promise it’s not what it looks like. I swear,” he tries again, knowing to not call her by her real first name because it’ll make her even more upset.

She stays quiet, leaving room for him to begin his explanation.

“I know I just bought that box, but I didn’t use them. Some of the other freshmen on the team needed some and they didn’t have the time to get them, so I just handed them a whole strip. I swear I wouldn’t cheat on you,” Nick explains.

Dallas turns to face away from him, embarrassment settles in her bones, weighing heavily. She hates that she was quick to assume the worst. She cries more. Nick comes up behind her, bringing her body into his. Her back is pressed against his chest as his arms are wrapped around her.

“Talk to me, June bug.”

“I feel like shit. I just accused you of cheating on me. I need to go,” she blurts, trying to break out of his hold.

“June, baby, I’m not mad at you. I understand how it looked. I’m not mad. I just want you to look at me, please,” he sighs, turning her around and lifting her chin up.

“There she is,” he adds upon meeting her eyes.

She reluctantly looks at him, his smile soft but worried.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes.

“It’s okay. I promise I’m not mad. Not at you anyways, the boys owe us condoms,” he tries to joke around but his attempt fails.

He cups her cheeks, pulling her in for a kiss. She’s reluctant at first, but then her body melts when his plump lips encase her lips. She grips the material of the crew neck he’s wearing, not daring to let go.

“Marry me,” he pulls away but still speaks against her lips as he’s still cupping her face.

“You’re absolutely crazy,” she laughs in amusement.

“Crazy about you,” he says, sealed with another breathtaking kiss.

She wipes away the tears daring to spill, shaking her head to get rid of the memory. It’s not her favorite. She leans down pressing a kiss to where she could reach on his face as it’s shoved in her neck. When she thinks about it, that wasn’t the first time Nick has asked to marry her. She’s used to hearing him say it, and she’s used to not looking too much into it. She knows he’s just being funny. However, she thinks, no, she knows that she likes to hear him say those words.

Nick has one hand laid on the small of Dallas’ back while the other holds one of her hands. The side of his face rests gently against the side of her face, creating an intimate connection that isn’t shared by their hands. They’re softly swaying to some classical song, ignoring everyone around them. It’s date night. Their fancy date night. She’s adorned in her silky, yellow slip dress that he found for her at a thrift store one Sunday. Nick was right, she looks down right delectable. Nick is wearing navy blue trousers and a simple white button up, his sleeves rolled up and a few of the buttons undone. Just the way Dallas likes. They’ve chosen to forgo dessert for a few dances on the crowded dance floor. It’s something Dallas has never done before, and she’s glad she gets to do it with Nick.

“So, I was thinking when we get back to mine, we can shower, maybe have sex, if you’re up for that, then we can lay down and watch The Mighty Ducks,” Nick whispers in her ear.

Dallas grins, her hand that isn’t in his coming up to fiddle with the hair at the nape of his neck. She bites down on her lip, trying to silence her laugh.

“You and your Mighty Ducks, and what makes you think I’m going back to your place? Maybe I’m really tired and need to sleep in my bed, alone,” she teases him, already knowing his cheeks are turning red.

“Well,” he says and clears his throat before continuing, “I know for a fact that you can’t sleep properly unless your body is heated by my body warmth. I also know that you love having sex with me especially when it’s cold outside, and The Mighty Ducks is one of the best hockey movies.”

Dallas turns her head, her lips coming in contact with his cheek. He’s right, she loves his warmth. She presses a chaste kiss to his cheek before leaning her head on his shoulder.

“You’re my boy, of course I’ll go home with you. Of course I’ll have shower sex with you, and of course I’ll watch The Mighty Ducks with you, for the millionth time,” Dallas giggles, slipping her hand out of his to wrap her arms around his waist.

He smiles so wide his cheeks start to ache. He brings her arms to rest around his neck, dipping her body and kissing her like no one’s watching.

“Marry me, June bug,” he whispers so softly she almost doesn’t hear him.

“You want to submit me to the torture of watching The Might Ducks every night that you’re restless?” She jokes around.

“You know you love the movie, too,” he retorts, smiling when she smiles and playfully rolls her eyes at his words.

Some people might think Nick’s insane for even muttering those words at a young age, but she always found it endearing- even the first time he said it.

“Well look at you my little puck bunny,” Nick teases Dallas, his arms folded behind his head as he’s laid out on her bed.

“You’re finding this a little too amusing,” she grumbled, throwing her head back as she let out a groan.

She stands up straight, fixing the pair of bunny ears that are crooked on her head before adjusting the maize umich hockey jersey. It was all Nick’s idea. Be a puck bunny for Halloween, he said. It’ll be fun, he said. The only good thing about this is the brand new Michigan blue lingerie set she has on underneath, the garter subtly peeking out from underneath the jersey.

“You look hot, baby,” he lusts over her, getting out of the bed to grab her hand and spin her around.

“What’s that?” Nick reaches out to tug on the strap around Dallas’ thigh, her garter.

“A garter. You should know, you’ve seen one before,” she points out the obvious.

“No, I know what it is, but why are you wearing one?”

Dallas scoffs and pushes him out the way, going to apply her lipstick.

“You can’t be the only one having fun with this costume, plus I think it adds a nice touch to the whole puck bunny thing,” she explains.

“Marry me?” He proposes, goofily, trying to get her to forget about her indifference towards the costume. His hands are planted on her hips, but when she starts to press herself more into him, they travel to her ass, squeezing softly.

“In your dreams, Moldenhauer,” she whispers in his ear, palming the front of his pants before whipping away from him.

After struggling to hold in her laughs, as to not wake up her sleeping boyfriend, she thinks about one of her favorite memories. Christmas Day, their first together. Nick had asked Dallas if he could spend the holiday with her and her family, not being able to catch a flight back home for a couple of reasons. It helped that Dallas’ family were going to celebrate in Ohio to be with her older brother. Dallas, of course, agreed.

Their 4 day trip came and went, but it was such a special time for the couple. They created so many new memories, and Nick was starting to find his place within her family. But, if there was one moment to stand out amongst the rest of them, it’d be Christmas morning. Dallas and Nick waking up to each other and exchanging gifts in private.

“You go first,” Nick directs.

“Why me? You’re technically the guest, so you should go first,” she counters.

“Fine, I’ll go first.”

Dallas hands over his perfectly gift wrapped present, anxiously biting on her lip. He sets a hand on her thigh to stop her nervous fidgeting. When he tears through the wrapping and the box, he’s presented with a custom pair of sneakers he’s been wanting and a pair of sunglasses that Dallas knew would look fantastic on him. The last thing in the box is a key tied to a piece of string.

“What’s this?”

“A key,” Dallas answers in a duh tone.

“Obviously, but a key to what?”

“My room.” And her heart.

“I know sometimes you just need to get away from all the guys to do homework or just nap, and I know sometimes you want to jump into my bed after I’ve fallen asleep and you don’t call to ask because you don’t want to wake me up. My room is my safe space, and I want it to be yours, too,” she finishes her explanation, watching his face to gauge his feelings.

His lips turn rosy from him biting on them to stop a blooming smile from spreading on his face. He grabs the girl, bringing her body into his for a hug. He grabs her face, pulling it out of his neck and kisses her so passionately. All of Dallas’ doubts melt away, turning into a million butterflies, buzzing throughout her whole body.

“I love it, so much actually. Thank you for trusting me with your safe space, and thank you for the shoes and sunglasses,” he whispers in her ear.

“You’re welcome.”

“Your turn!” He passes her a smaller box.

She hastily undoes the wrapping, getting excited when she realizes it’s a jewelry box. Her jaw hits the floor when she gets the box open to see a gold necklace, resting perfectly in its cushion. The ‘N’ is nestled with colorful stones, and it’s just the prettiest thing she’s ever seen.

“Nick, oh my god. This is so beautiful. I love it so much,” she rambles.

“Before you try to put it on, open this,” he instructs, handing her another box in a similar size.

Upon opening the second jewelry box, she’s met with another ‘N’ necklace, this time silver and dainty, perfect for everyday use.

“This is so lovely, Nicky. I love them so much,” she hugs him tightly, her fingers carding through his hair.

“I got the gold one for you to wear in the summer, because I know you prefer to wear gold jewelry in the summer. The color also adds to the summer aspect. The silver one is because your favorite is silver jewelry. The ‘N’ is small and simple, and I think it’d look beautiful resting in the dip of your collarbone,” he mutters, half sounding lovesick and half sounding embarrassed.

“I love it, they’re so thoughtful and perfect. Thank you, baby,” she says, moving to kiss his lips.

Later that night, Nick watches Dallas sleep as the moonlight pours in through the window and catches the silver chain of her necklace, reflecting the light. She is the equivalent of an angel, he thinks.

Subconsciously, Dallas removes her hand from where it was placed on Nick and fiddles with her necklace. She ponders over the hidden meaning placed behind the cold metal around her neck, the promise of forever, forever having him with her. At the beginning of their relationship, she never would have thought they’d be so amazing together. She never meant to be negative from the start, she’s just not used to having people, especially boys, genuinely care for her. Nick has been so exceptional and continues to be. The way he can tell when she’s hiding her true feelings, and how he knows just what to do to get her to let him in. The way he touches her with care and passion, his fingertips are always leaving trails of fire behind on her skin. The way he can fall asleep in her arms even though he doesn’t really like to be smothered. Feeling smothered is never something he feels when he’s with her.

Nick is Dallas’ best friend, in this lifetime and the next.

‘Oh’ she thinks.

‘Oh’ it dawns on her.

The times when Nick would call her his best friend, he really meant ‘I love you.’ Dallas starts to freak out internally, scouring each edge of her brain that will tell her how she feels about the revelation. She’s not scared, per se, and not shocked. I guess she feels seen. She soon realizes that she’s loved him all along. Each time they’ve moved throughout their days, even in silence, their hearts were screaming and declaring their love for each other. Through each semblance of a touch, even a meaningful touch, and through lingering stares, love was being voiced. The nights they found solace in each other in the darkest dark, their love was bleeding out on the bed sheets, coating themselves unknowingly. Nick’s in love with her and she’s in love with him.

“Nick,” she shakes his shoulder, needing him to wake up.

He stretches, rubs at his eyes, then looks up at Dallas. His face is a mix of sleepiness and concern, his lips pouty and hair stuck on his forehead. He looks perfect.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay? Did you have a nightmare?” He asks, his hands pressing into the mattress as he hovers over her.

The girl reaches a hand up, her thumb gliding over his bottom lip before tracing over his scar. He turns his head, kissing her palm.

“I’m fine, happy actually.”

“Why’d you wake me up?” He whines, dropping himself on top of her and hiding his face in her neck.

“Because I love you,” she whispers, his wandering hands freezing. He pops his head up, looking at her with the softest look she’s ever seen.

“I love you, June bug,” he states, proudly and with that familiar lovesick expression.

She tugs on his chain, bringing him into a kiss, one that lasts long enough to put them both to sleep.

a/n: I love this so much and I hope y’all do as well!!!!

#nick moldenhauer #nick moldenhauer x oc #nick moldenhauer x reader #nick x dallas #umich imagine #umich hockey #so it goes au

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cece693 · 3 months

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Ultimatum (Rosalie Hale x Male Vamp. Reader)

This has been brewing in my draft section for far too long. I believe it's time this work saw the light of day.

Summary: M/n Swan, now Cullen, doesn't care if he is breaking his wife's heart, but watching how his sister is dying with Rosalie encouraging it makes m/n rethink their whole marriage. He'll be damned if he stays silent and becomes an accomplice to this murder.

M/n sighed once again as his sister's coughing interrupted what would've otherwise been a tranquil day. He was upstairs in his bedroom, staring out into the forest, attempting to forget Bella's deteriorating state. When she and Edward returned from their honeymoon, m/n immediately knew something was wrong; he could sense the tension between the newlyweds even before they stepped foot into the house, not to mention his wife, Rosalie, immediately rushing to Bella's side.

While Rosalie hadn't made her distaste towards his sister unknown, watching as she catered to Bella's every need was bizarre. Yet everything made sense when she announced her pregnancy.

Everyone, except Bella and Rosalie, wanted to terminate the pregnancy. It had already broken several ribs, and no ultrasound could predict the pace at which the thing was growing. Hell, Bella already looked dead: dark circles under her eyes, bones poking through almost translucent skin, and no appetite. M/n couldn't bear to watch as his once lively sister became nothing but a corpse.

A part of him hated Edward for putting this death sentence upon Bella. Didn't the telepath think once of using protection, even if the chances of pregnancy were slim to none? And then there was sweet Rosalie.

M/n wasn't dumb. He knew Rosalie only stuck by his sister's side to ensure the baby would be hers. Bella's chances of surviving childbirth were non-existent, and with how everyone would treat the thing, Rosalie was prepared to become its mother. M/n shivered in disgust at the idea of living alongside his sister's murderer. Worst of all, acting as another paternal figure to the thing that ripped their own family apart.

"Shut it, dog!" Rosalie's scream caused m/n to run to the living room. The family was divided, as usual, with Bella acting as the middle ground.

"Rosalie, stop." Esme exclaimed with a stern expression. "All this fighting isn't good for Bella."

"The fetus isn't good for Bella," Alice spoke, glaring daggers at Rosalie before looking at Bella. His sister looked down at her lap, yet m/n didn't take a step to comfort her. This argument was long overdue. Bella had to remember the impact of her decision to keep the thing.

"Say the word, Alice. Baby. It's just a little baby—"

"That's killing my little sister." M/n spoke from his position on the stairs, his gaze filled with venom as he looked at Bella. She looked worse than when he last saw her yesterday.

"You can't be serious, m/n." Rosalie whispered in disbelief. "It's an innocent baby."

"You don't know that."

"M/n." Bella whispered, but her brother shook his head.

"No. I'm done watching you and Rosalie act like this will turn out okay. It won't. Either you miraculously survive or die. Those are our only two endings, with the latter being greater as of late."

Silence befell the room as m/n looked to Rosalie for a sign of awareness. Yet his wife only looked at him with disappointment and anger. "It's my decision." Bella finally uttered, looking at all the Cullens in the room and Jacob. "And nobody can force me into giving up my child." Rosalie went to stand behind Bella, laying a hand on her shoulder in silent support as the rest of the family looked on in resignation.

"So what was the whole point of you marrying Edward?" M/n sought, not giving up easily. He desperately wanted Bella to see reason. "Sacrificing myself to save you when Victoria created the newborn army? Why go through hell and back only to throw it all away for this? Please, Bella," he whispered almost like a prayer. "There's still time." Walking over to his sister, ignoring Rosalie's burning stare, m/n dropped to his knees and hugged Bella tenderly.

Feeling thin fingers run through his hair, m/n only grew disheartened when Bella whispered, "I can't do it, M/n. I just can't. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if my baby's life was cut short."

Lifting his head, m/n looked into his sister's determined eyes before nodding and rising to his feet. The room remained silent, the weight of the decision hanging heavily in the air. And while the Cullens believed m/n had changed perspectives, that he would support Bella's decision, the words coming out of the youngest coven member stunned them.

"Then I guess this is a goodbye."

"What do you mean, m/n?" Alice asked, her eyes reflecting confusion and concern. However, it was Rosalie who answered her.

"You're going to leave Bella's side over this? Leave me, your wife? You can't be serious, m/n..." Rosalie trailed off, her hurt expression deepening as she struggled to comprehend the magnitude of his decision.

M/n met Rosalie's gaze, the tension in the room thickening. "Rose, you know I love you, but seeing you aid Bella's death hurts me. You've made your choice. This is mine."

Rosalie's gaze hardened, a defensive spark igniting in her eyes. "You can't blame me for this, m/n. I didn't ask for any of this to happen. I'm supporting Bella when everyone's against her. The baby is innocent in all of this, and I won't apologize for wanting to protect it."

"Protect it?" M/n scoffed, his disbelief evident in his tone. "This isn't about protecting anyone; it's more about your own selfish desires than anything else. If Bella dies, consider me dead too. I can't live, much less love, the person who played a part in her demise."

#twilight #the twilight saga #edward cullen #bella swan #bella cullen #carlisle cullen #esme cullen #alice cullen #the cullens #emmett cullen #rosalie hale #rosalie cullen #jasper whitlock #jasper hale #male reader #x male reader #breaking dawn pt. 1 #renesmee cullen

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kafus · 7 months

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youtube

file too big for tumblr so you get a youtube video but HIII I DID IT!! I BEAT THORTON!!! I GOT THE GOLD PRINT BABEY I WAS NOT EXPECTING THIS TO HAPPEN TONIGHT!! months of on and off grinding and then 3 days straight of doing this nearly all my waking hours and losing so many streaks and I DID IT!!! this is one of the hardest things you can do in gen 4 ever i think i'm losing my mind. pthgss battle factory does NOT fuck around

some commentary below the cut if you're interested in my thoughts/strategy while doing this

when i saw whiscash i swapped into scizor because i thought it was safe and i wanted to preserve weavile's strength, speed, and fake out for later... and i did my calcs wrong. i've been hunched over calculators and spreadsheets for hours to have the best odds of winning this streak and somehow i was calculating doubles damage instead of singles so EQ was stronger than i expected. embarrassingly i didn't notice this until someone pointed it out to me after the fact LOL. i don't even know how i didn't catch it, of course EQ does more damage, it's STAB!! so that was actually a pretty damn dangerous switch! but he missed stone edge i am BLESSED stone edge more like stone MISS AHAHAHAFSDKFSDAL

anyway after whiscash was down i let entei take out my scizor because scizor is slow and was already on low HP, if i tried to preserve it it would probably just get outsped and die to a legendary or something later. and entei had two dangerous sets in particular it could possibly be so i really needed to scout its fire move. tbh when i saw entei my heart sank, i knew my team was really weak to fire and that it could be a problem but i just never found any good pokemon to swap while climbing round 7. i just hoped that garchomp resisting and having earthquake would suffice... but the entei had a shuca berry (halves a super effective ground hit) so outrage actually did more damage. if entei crit me at any point it would have been over but otherwise it would have been impossible to take out garchomp in two hits thankfully. and i had a persim berry if outrage ended in two turns and confused me. but didn't end up mattering!

my heart SANK when the focus band proc'd on latios (a 10% chance) but then i was like YES!! THIS IS WHAT WEAVILE HAS BEEN WAITING FOR!! THERE'S NO WAY IT PROCS TWO MORE TIMES IN A ROW RIGHT?! because weavile using fake out would give me a chance, and then if focus band proc'd again, the flinch from fake out would let me get a second turn and weavile outspeeds that latios SO it was pretty safe unless i got insanely unlucky. AND IT WORKED OUT!!!!

i dunno if i deserved this win because my round 6 (the round before this one) was INCREDIBLY lucky, like, i got the round 7 staraptor in my draft and it had choice band brave bird and just decimated EVERYTHING except a couple bronzongs which i had a strong vaporeon for, so... it was basically a freebie and then round 7 had some close calls but also i got garchomp from trading with the literal first trainer (who i almost lost to but shhh) and then all the stuff with scizor/whiscash... BUT. it's been long enough i'm TAKING IT

anyways POGGERS

i'm probs gonna upload this battle video to the dns exploit server later but i gotta wait for my parents to go to bed so i'm not interrupting them using wifi by turning on the gen 4 compatible guest wifi lol

(btw if you want to do factory yourself please look up smogon's resources on it and use calcs and stuff i promise without it it will be a living nightmare 10x more than it already is)

#hgss #pokemon #pokemon hgss #battle factory #kiki was here #kiki.txt #kiki plays games #Youtube

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stardustedknuckles · 2 years

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I have been dealing with psych since April trying to get my records over for them to take over my ADHD meds after I got kicked off my old insurance. Medicaid expanded their income requirements so even though my income didn’t change, I was pushed into it and lost pretty much all medical autonomy.

This got long, sorry.

I offered to self pay to keep my doctor because she was very good to me and nope, clinics are not allowed to charge medicaid patients. The reasoning is that if you can pay for it you shouldn’t be on Medicaid. No fucking shit I shouldn’t be on Medicaid and also fuck Medicaid. Doctor recommends you do something medicaid won’t pay for? You literally cannot pay for it yourself. The only things scarier than being unsure if you can afford to cover a cost yourself is that not even being an option, legally. If they say you can’t have it, fuck you.

So my new and terrible PCP referred me to psych because nobody at her office could maintain my script, which I figured was coming because I’ve been seeing MDs since I got diagnosed. I had a luckily quick dx and I have always feared if I went to psych for meds they would be like “hmm the notes say he saw you for ten minutes, so I’m not going to honor this.” I woud have kept going to MDs, but they’re damn hard to find on medicaid and I learned that it didn’t matter how fast I was diagnosed, a dx is a dx.

For two weeks they have been telling me they got my records, everything looks fine, should be put in at the pharmacy any day now. And today they told me just kidding, actually, since my diagnosis is considered inattentive ADD there is no evidence to suggest it should be treated with the meds I’ve been on for three years.

A few of you ran into my blog for general critical role reasons but most of you are here because of the fic I write. That was not fucking possible before meds. Paying attention to something for four hours routinely was not possible. Staying at my computer and drafting plots and thinking about these characters was not possible. I was in a state of perpetual exhaustion to the point a few doctors have wondered if we’re actually treating chronic fatigue syndrome (HUGE overlap btw). Those doctors have all agreed - hold on to that ADHD diagnosis, because the end result is that I’m being treated effectively.

This right here is my worst nightmare. Forced to go to psych (they snuck me in one last appointment with my old PCP in march so I could get 3 more months of meds - I still don’t know who got that bill) only for them to jack me around and mislead me until I would not leave them alone. Where are the meds you promised me, I am now running low when I had a surplus (I didn’t tell them that part - I was sick enough earlier in the year that I had a few weeks where taking them was pointless). I have already been splitting my evening dose because I haven’t trusted them that they have it figured out and now they are just. No, sorry. Hope you had a good three years because you’re going to have to go through everything unmedicated again to do the test she wants to see.

Nobody even recognizes a difference between ADD and ADHD-I. They are clinically the same dx with the same treatment and have been for a while.

It’s fucking cruelty is what it is.

And I immediately started crying because new birth control and also nightmare scenario, but the only saving grace is that mom already got me in with a clinic that has an MD for unrelated reasons. She’s THREE HOURS AWAY but it is literally the only option and will allow me to keep my meds. I will still have a period where I am low/without them since I’m splitting and it still might not be enough but. Fuck.

And in the middle of all of this I have a kidney stone working its way through, AND my blood pressure keeps dropping me an hour after I eat and scaring the shit out of me. That’s why mom called up my brothers’ MD, because my primary care is utter shit. It’s not even “they do their best but they’re underfunded” it’s “I have medicaid now and that means I am disposable.”

Fuck the american health system up the ass. I can’t even begin to process what this would do to someone who didn’t already have a mistrust of doctors and a backup plan at all times. Who didn’t have a mom who is frankly routinely controlling but who also knows how to get shit done.

Now if you will excuse me, I have to lie down because the emotions from the last three days also set off some kind of histamine flare.

#vent post #chronic-les #the only true mental panic attack I have ever had - as opposed to a physical one brought on by infection -#was when it looked like I would lose access to my meds back in 2020 #I could not handle again becoming the person I was before them #especially not knowing what was possible and being kept from me

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keyrousse · 2 years

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💬 💬 💬 my fat fingers disapprove of this symbol 😆

Thank you very much! :)

3 symbols, three quotes :)

1. A scene from "Consequences" that was "[insert some poetic description here]" in the first draft and I literally rolled my eyes at my past self when I got to that moment while editing. I don't know if it's poetic, but that's the best I could come up with at that point:

They lay down and take their time to admire the colours of the evening sky, full of reds and pinks, with clouds like cotton wool scattered over them, reflecting the sun, with some sparks dancing on them, looking nothing like he’s ever seen. Those must be reflections, too, but he has no idea of what: they flow like water, but they’re so bright the water must be shining on its own. It looks like magic, and soon he feels like he’s flying among those clouds; he feels lightheaded and he grabs the grass by reflex, afraid he’ll fall. Once he’s sure he’s safe, he allows his mind to wander and fly, listen to the birdsong, watch the sparks and flowing colours until the sky is dark. Even then, the white reflections are visible and their dance is soothing. He allows himself to let go of all worries from the last few weeks he spent working with Rience. He doesn’t think of the future. He just stares at the lights and feels at peace for the first time in years.

2. The very tense friends-to-lovers from the end of my whumpy "Broadchurch" fic:

Fuck it, Ellie thinks.

“You know, those first hours after your accident, when we didn't know whether you'd survive, they were some of the worst moments of my life, about as bad as when you told me that Joe had killed Danny,” she says. Alec’s still looking at her, the wine in his hand almost forgotten. Ellie can’t stop now. “There you were, in the hospital bed, probably dying, and I could only think how you’d been the only person who'd talk to me when my best friend loathed me, who would distract me, see me as someone other than the murderer’s wife whose anger let the murderer go free, show me there’s a reason we do this. I was scared shitless for you.”

“Ellie…”

She puts her glass on the table and wipes her tears away.

“I couldn’t imagine losing you, you goddamn knob, and I hated you for this, hated you for making me care about you. I hate you, and you’re here, still my boss and my best friend who’s seen me at my lowest.”

“Ellie…” Alec repeats and it sounds like a whine. His glass is on the table already and he turned towards her, he’s sitting with one leg bent on the couch, the foot of the other on the floor, his hands on his lap twitching uncomfortably like he doesn’t know what to do with them.

“And this?” she continues and hears herself raise her voice as she’s simply unable to stop the flow of words anymore, she doesn’t care whether they make much sense. “Whatever is happening here between us, this is new, this is terrifying, but I know that you’ll be able to take anything I’ll throw at you, and you won’t be ever able to push me away and damn I’m so scared that we ended up at this point, but I’ve seen you in that hospital bed, seen you here, just now, among my own friends and I care about you and being just your friend is not enough anymore.”

3. this little scene between the witcher brothers happily working at Vizima Police (yes, I know, boring), from "Appearances". It's only a part of their conversation, but I loved the relationship between them, with Lambert being his adorable self.

“Lambert, what are you doing here?” he asked and opened the case files again. “I thought you’d be busy processing all the information from that very successful drug bust.”

“I was, but apparently I was pissing everyone off, so they told me to go down here,” the man, Lambert, replied with a shrug. He turned his chair around and leaned his forearms on the backrest in front of him. “They say it calms me down, though I have no idea why, since I hate your pretty mug.”

He spoke with a somewhat hoarse voice, absolutely devoid of emotions.

“I’m flattered,” Geralt replied dryly.

“But seriously, you know the feeling when it seems you have everything, yet something’s missing and you have no idea what?” Lambert asked.

“Yep,” Geralt popped the ‘p’. “You think you missed something?”

“I think we just busted another middleman and we’re not any closer to the higher-ups.”

Geralt glanced at him.

“You know, every bust brings you closer to the top, so…” Eskel started.

“Bullshit,” Lambert cut in, “at this point we need a miracle.”

#fanfiction #my fic #ask meme #The Witcher #modern!AU #Broadchurch

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pint4punt · 3 months

Text

And the Lombardi goes to:

What NFL Fanbases’ Bullshit Sob Story Deserves it All

Championship Sunday is finally upon us and boy have the scriptwriters got compelling stories this go round! With the playoffs narrowed down to the final four, we’ve got unforgettable narratives for…….almost all of the QBs still in this! Statistics, scheme, and matchups be damned (let’s be honest you’ve heard every prediction imaginable since these matchups were set).

Today we’ll be focusing on what really matters. Who has the most compelling sob story for quality Super Bowl ratings! Who could forget classics such as ‘Tom Brady Builds a Super Team to Prove it was Him All Along’ or the all star cast of Matthew Stafford, Odell Beckham Jr., and Von Miller in ‘The NFL Really Wants the Robust LA Market!’ featuring Snoop Dogg on the original motion picture soundtrack! You see a ‘may the best team win approach’ is fine for a place setter, but storylines put asses in the seats! And don’t worry, as bad as our jokes are, Jo Koy had little to no involvement in this article! So which Lombardi win makes the best headline? Here are the nominees:

Lamar Jackson

Since he declared for the draft Lamar Jackson has had to overcome widespread perception that he was closer to a skill position player than a signal caller. Many scouts questioned his ability to cut it in the pros at the Quarterback position. This stigma was so strong that Lamar fell all the way to the last pick of the First Round.

John Harbaugh believed in Lamar so strongly, that he reinvented himself and rebuilt his entire Offense around Jackson’s skill set. Shit, I would roll the dice too if my job was on the line after several middling seasons with an aging Joe Flacco! Either it works and you look like a genius or it fails catastrophically and you go out with a bang. Luckily for Harbaugh and Lamar, it was the latter with the now presumably 2x MVP set to play in his first AFC Championship game. Lamar has already shaken off the narrative of him not showing up in the playoffs just by making this game. But knocking off the QB who owns a 3-1 record over him for a trip to Sin City would be Oscar gold! Not bad for a running back.

Jared Goff

Everyone loves a comeback story. An underdog achieving in the face of adversity. A character finding a new lease on life and showing all the doubters they were wrong about him. There may not be a better archetype of that narrative than former 1st overall pick Jared Goff and the historically downtrodden Detroit Lions.

After being sent to die in Detroit, a franchise that has seemingly been in a perpetual state of rebuild for damn near the entirety of its existence, Goff watched from afar as Sean McVay gushed over his new QB Matthew Stafford and his old team held up the trophy he could never give them. Following two seasons with no playoff appearances, Goff seized the opportunity to prove to McVay that he’s not a virgin anymore by out-dueling his replacement to give Detroit their first playoff win in 30 years and keep Stafford winless in Ford Field in the post season.

Now he has the Lions on the precipice of a Super Bowl appearance with a chance to give Detroit its first ever Lombardi. Apparently the grass isn’t always greener on the other side……except in this case where it totally is seeing as how the Rams already won their second Super Bowl like two seasons ago thanks specifically to the Stafford trade, while the Lions are still fighting the good fight for Lombardi number one. But hey, everyone’s happy now right?

Brock Purdy

Is there a more inspiring yet polarizing figure in the NFL than Brock Purdy? He’s like a ‘Make a Wish’ kid that the media wants to beat the living shit out of on sight. In fact, we’re fairly certain Ryan Clark has his picture on a punching bag in his home and regularly unleashes a fury of blows onto an 8.5 x 11 cut out of Mr. Irrelevant. But why? Why does the NFL version of Michael Cera incite as much vitriol as….well Michael Cera?

As the last pick of the draft, Purdy was lucky to even make the final roster of a team that was coming off its 2nd conference championship appearance in 3 years. The depth chart in front of him featured a veteran who had taken the Niners to a Super Bowl and a guy Shanahan gave up his left nut for the year before. But Purdy was like that one sperm that ultimately reached conception, despite overwhelming odds, he just wouldn’t be denied!

Following season ending injuries to both Trey Lance and Jimmy G, Purdy took over a Super Bowl contender mid season…..and might have led them to a Super Bowl were it not for a devastating elbow injury in the NFC Championship that ended San Francisco’s dream run. One year and one UCL repair later, Purdy and the Niners picked right up where they left off and now find themselves back in the Conference Title game as if nothing happened. That’s like Greta Thunberg single-handedly fighting off an army of Exxon Oil’s greatest assassins or Joe Biden finishing a Dr. Seuss book with no assistance. We don’t know what’s up the media’s ass, but that seems pretty impressive for a game manager!

Patrick Mahomes

And then there’s Mahomes. The Meryl Streep in all of this. The one who had the least impressive performance with the least impressive story who you just know is going to spoil all the fun of the more deserving nominees. On paper, this fucker shouldn’t even be here let alone have a puncher’s chance with the way their regular season looked. But that’s what makes Patrick Mahomes, well Patrick Mahomes.

He’s like the Lebron James of football. Or better yet, the Tom Brady….of football…. Poor analogies aside, Mahomes defies all logic and drags inferior teams to the promise land. Sure the script doesn’t favor him this year, but guess what? It didn’t favor him last week against the Buffalo team that finally had him their house this postseason! Or in the Super Bowl last year against Jalen Hurts who mostly outplayed him before…..whatever this season was!

The simple fact of the matter is anyone who pays attention already knows how this ends. Mahomes is going to win the god damn Super Bowl….again. Why?!!! Because the academy, the scriptwriters, and the NFL writ large are lazy as all hell! And dynasties keep the fans coming back, just on the off chance that their pessimistic hopes of a downfall might finally come to fruition….even though they probably won’t until the NFL’s new golden boy is well past his prime. And the Lombardi goes to…….the same son of a bitch it always goes to!!!!! Hopefully we’re wrong and we get a fresh story this time around. Otherwise tune in next year for another crappy sequel with a few minor tweaks. Happy Championship Sunday!

#championshipsunday #nfl #afc championship #nfcchampionship #kansas city chiefs #baltimoreravens #detroit lions #san fransisco 49ers #football

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all-eyes-lead-to-the-truth · 4 months

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All Eyes Lead to the Truth | Musings of a Cigarette Smoking Man (4x07)

He flings open the tempered glass door of Montgomery & Glick Publishing, ready to start another day of reading, and most likely, rejecting multiple writings from wannabe authors. And of-fucking-course, his publication office is a mess. Old donut wrappers, empty paper cups, and probably a hundred different discarded story drafts wadded up and tossed at overfilled trash bins litter the shag carpet of the office atrium.

“Good mornin’, boss,” Davey Jones says with a lit Morley balancing perilously on his bottom lip.

“No, it’s not. It’s a pigsty in here,” Albert Montgomery Godwinkle glares in disgust at the men working under him, as if that could teach them some goddamn manners. Maybe he should fire them all and hire more women. “Your editing better not look this bad.”

A chorus of apologies and excuses resound around the room. Nothing new there.

“And how many times do I have to say no smoking around the manuscripts?” Albert huffs and waves a hand in front of his face, trying to clear the fog of smoke thicker than his reading glasses. The noxious smell pisses him off almost as much as trash around here does. No wonder he’s in a perpetual bad mood.

“Hey boss, we got a few new submissions waiting for your read-through,” Davey adds as he stubs out his cigarette. “I put ‘em on your desk. And hey, that first one from D.C. is a real doozy.”

Davey chuckles and Albert rolls his eyes. Everything’s a damn joke to that kid.

“Get back to work, Jones,” he sighs, and shuts his office door behind him.

It’s only nine in the morning and his day is already shit. His wife hates his unyielding work schedule, his kids can’t seem to stand him, and this struggling publishing company has become his only joy in life. Though the joy has been hard to find. Reading a halfway decent manuscript for once might actually put a smile on Albert’s disgruntled face.

Cautiously hopeful, he grabs the first printed manuscript from the top of the pile called TAKE A CHANCE: A JACK COLQUITT ADVENTURE, by Raul Bloodworth, and reads.

Two hours later, Albert skims down to the bottom of the last page, reciting its final words aloud: “I can kill you whenever I please… but not today.”

What the hell?

Albert lets the stack of pages he’d just wasted too much of his life reading flop atop his half eaten breakfast.

“What the hell?” he repeats. Out loud this time, because silently doesn’t quite capture his frustration properly. He grabs the corded phone on his desk and punches in his publishing partner’s number. “Yeah Glick, come to my office. You gotta see this.”

When Sammie Glick finishes reading Bloodworth’s excerpt on hero hitmen, he barks out a horse laugh only a man who smokes a pack a day and drinks a bottle of whisky a night can manage. “Jesus Christ, you sure that ain’t a comedy piece?”

Albert groans. “Unfortunately, yes.”

“Bloodworth is a catchy author pseudonym, though, I’ll give him that.” Glick chortles into his coffee cup. “Are you gonna write the rejection letter or am I?”

Albert slams his hand on his desk in indignation. “This is a serious publishing house! Not a lowbrow rag idolizing some governmental conspiracy adventure with… with I don’t even know, goddamn alien ass implants.”

His partner chokes on a mouth full of dark roast. “Alien ass implants? Really?”

“No, but somehow that would’ve improved the plot.”

“Didn’t we get a similar submission a while back about some end of the world mumbo jumbo? Project Doomsday, I think it was called. By a guy named Alan Kurtzdial?” Glick snaps his fingers in recognition. “Alvin Kurtzweil. That’s the name. I remember because his story was about as whack-a-do as this one.”

Albert scrubs a hand over his face as he mentally prepares to reject this crap. Holding up the first page of Bloodworth’s manuscript labeled, “Part I: Trust No One,” he scoffs.

“And to think, I held out hope to not look at any more trash today…”

Dear Mr. Bloodworth, I have recently had the unhappy and unfortunate experience of reading your manuscript: TAKE A CHANCE: A JACK COLQUITT ADVENTURE. My advice? Burn it! It stunk like rotten tomatoes not even my dog would eat off the floor. That, Mr. Bloodworth, is called a simile. You would do well (God forbid) not to litter your next manuscript with too many of them. In addition, I felt the plot of TAKE A CHANCE to be preposterous, the characters unbelievable, the ending lame, and the writing, frankly, crap. Needless to say, Montgomery & Glick Publishing declines your manuscript. Please, DO NOT send this piece of trash to another publishing house. Very Sincerely, Albert M. Godwinkle

Read the rest of All Eyes Lead to the Truth on Archive of Our Own

@monikafilefan

#all eyes lead to the truth #musings of a cigarette smoking man #albert godwinkle #season four #season 4 #s4 #mulder #scully #msr #4x07 #x files #fanfic #x files fanfic

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prophetparadox · 6 months

Text

Heaven In A Wildflower Chapter 8: Cut Content

Hello there! Welcome to the first of my little series of posts showing off cut content in this fic! As with all forms of entertainment, things get cut in the writing process, and even fic writing is no stranger to this. And while smaller things have been cut by this point, some things were drastically changed and altered to the point of work being removed. But I didn’t want to waste these large chunks of content, so I figured I could share them here with you all! Give you all some bonus content! And for this chapter, we got two cuts.

Originally, I was going to put in a bit I wrote concerning V and Kay talking about whether she has a Devil Trigger or not. I’ve been writing this fic for months, and Kay’s changed a lot during that time. And while I have been writing this fic chronologically for the most part, there’s some bits and pieces I wrote ahead of time when the inspiration and good wording came to me. This was one of them, and it ultimately got changed because of the change in Kay’s character. However, it’s been a long time since I first drafted this post and I don’t exactly feel like digging through the history on Google Docs right now to find it. Sorry.

What I can share though is the original version of the post-Goddess Statue upgrading fight! I actually quickly came to dislike this scene since it ultimately didn’t fit the vibe the next scene and couple of chapters have going for them. I tried to salvage as much of it as I possibly could, but I figured keeping the original here would still suffice.

The two of them continued down the path, resuming their journey. They could feel the rumbling underneath their feet grow more intense, stopping once it felt the strongest. Roots broke through the ground in front of them, thankfully far enough that they couldn’t attack them. In front of them, red pools formed on the ground, Empusas forming out from underneath them.

Kay did groan this time. “Seriously?! More bugs?!” she complained. “Come on, I wanted to try things out on something new! Not the same old shit we dealt with hours ago!”

“Patience, Little Wanderer,” V said. “Unfortunately, we will likely be dealing with these weaker demons for some time, especially while we are farther away from the Qliphoth itself,” He glanced up at the sky, the demon tree still visible from this distance. “Though as time goes on, and the roots continue to spread, stronger adversaries will make themselves known. Besides, would it not help to practice on a foe you are already familiar with?”

Kay sighed. “I guess you’re right. I’m just sick of fighting these damn things already. I want something challenging!”

“I understand your concerns, but for now we must make due with what we have.” V summoned Griffon and Shadow to his side, intending to play more of a supportive role in this fight. He wanted to see what Kay could do.

She pulled out Fenrir, twisting the handle and bringing out the chainsaw blades. “Whatever, let’s just take ‘em down!” she exclaimed.

She looked over the group before her, six normal Empusas and three flying ones. This would be easy to handle. Running over to the first two, she revved up Fenrir and struck it through the first Empusa. Blood drenched from the entry wound, getting all over the Empusa next to it as she cut through it like she usually did. It was slower than usual, but it did the job just as effectively. She cut through its midsection, the demon collapsing to the ground as it died. Her attention turned to the second one, and she stuck Fenrir into its head. She grabbed the handle and revved it continuously, more blood shooting out from the wound as the blades cut faster. She slowly pushed Fenrir in further, and within seconds the demon stopped flailing. She kicked the body out of it, slicing it normally just to be certain. So that’s what that move could do.

She sensed another Empusa behind her, jumping out of the way of the attack before doing a second jump in mid-air. Holy shit, it felt good to finally have that ability, she’d wanted to do it for years! She jumped behind it and cut it into three pieces, enjoying the rush of battle as she went for one of the Green Empusas.

V removed his cane from a felled enemy, sending Shadow to strike at another demon. He looked over at Kay as he fought, watching her take down demons with ease. Admittedly, he too wished they had another kind of foe to practice on, these Empusas went down too quickly. Perhaps some light conversation would make things more interesting. “If it isn’t much trouble, I believe I have my question ready.” he said.

Kay didn’t look back at him. “Okay then, go for it!” she called back.

“Where do you come from?”

Kay performed a double jump, hacking at a Green Empusa as she thought. “Uhhhhhh, I actually don’t remember!”

V raised an eyebrow at that answer. “Truly? You cannot recall your birthplace?”

“Sorry, I know that’s not an interesting answer, but it’s the truth!” she admitted. “It slipped through my memory years ago. You?”

The Green Empusa he was fighting fell to the ground in a purple hue, and he finished it off with his cane. “This very city actually,” he said. “It’s been quite a long time since I last came here though.”

“Oh, shit. Guess that’s why you wanted Dante to help save it then?”

“You could say that.”

The final enemies were defeated, leaving no trace of them behind. V turned back to look at Kay, his heart pounding in his chest a bit as he saw she was dripping with demon blood. Of course a chainsaw axe would leave more of a mess than usual, but the sight was something else. ‘Hehe, are your thoughts going places, V? Admit it, you like what you see there!’ Griffon teased, though V refused to acknowledge it with a response. What was he even thinking anyway? He was merely surprised to see her like that, nothing more. Any other implications were ridiculous and not worth entertaining. The bird was just trying to get a rise out of him.

Thankfully for him, Kay wasn’t aware of him looking at her. She looked down at her clothes, seeing her shirt littered with bloodstains. “Yeah, should’ve seen that coming.” she sighed. At least demon blood vanished quickly so it wouldn’t stain anything. She didn’t even want to think about when she could possibly clean anything.

She nearly flinched as she felt something wet brush over her hand. Looking over to see what she felt, she saw Shadow had walked up to her and had started licking the blood off her hand. She stood there frozen, uncertain about what to do. Did she say something? Ask V what was going on? Just stand there and wait for him to stop?

“Well, well, well! Looks like the kitty’s warming up to ya, girlie,” Griffon said, perching himself on her shoulders. “I ain’t ever seen him get this close to someone other than V. Kinda weird, actually.”

Kay scoffed. “Weird for you, maybe,” She finally looked up at V, who was now observing Shadow intently. “Okay, so, is it safe for me to pet him or something? He’s gonna like, bite my hand or anything?”

Griffon made a shrugging gesture with his wings. “Eh, I doubt he’d do that unless V told ‘im to. Even though it’d be funny if he did!” he laughed, quickly removing himself before she could take a swipe at him. “But yeah, go ahead, I ain’t gonna stop you.”

After putting away Fenrir, which had returned to its normal state, Kay slowly moved her free hand over Shadow’s head, softly petting the demon panther to test the waters. Just as Griffon said, he didn’t attempt to bite her, he didn’t even back away or show any sign of discomfort. Instead, he just stood there and let her pet him. Kay smiled, happy to obtain the approval of one of the familiars.

V watched the scene unfold before him, similarly shocked by Shadow’s actions. Granted, it was good to know that he liked Kay considering the circumstances, but he truly hadn’t expected him to show such affection. He’d have to keep an eye on things and see if this changed any further.

“It would appear that you’re taking to your new skills well, Little Wanderer.” he said, returning to the subject at hand.

Kay stopped petting Shadow, earning a displeased huff from him in the process. “I’m, uh, not sure one battle is enough to say that, especially against such small fry like those guys.”

V nodded. “True, one battle is hardly enough to determine such things, but I have a good feeling about you and your skills. In fact, I believe you have what it takes to fully utilize your demonic powers to their full potential.”

Kay’s smile fell a bit. “What do you mean?”

“I am certain you know what a Devil Trigger is, do you not?” V asked. Though he figured it would be something she was aware of, he didn’t want to assume after having to tell her about the Divinity Statues.

“You mean that thing Dante can do where he turns into a demon?” she asked. She hadn’t seen him do it often, but that was the only thing she could think of that would possibly be called a Devil Trigger. V confirmed her guess with a nod. “Yeah, I know what that is, but I can’t do that.”

“You can’t?” V asked, genuinely perplexed by this revelation. “Regardless of skill level, I would believe you should have some access to that ability.” Most hybrids could acces a Devil Trigger of some kind by now, so it was strange that she claimed she couldn’t. He could sense her power, she had the means to do so in theory. Did she simply not know how to access it because she’d never tried? Or was there something deeper going on? Had she never had a catalyst to awaken it?

Kay froze, looking at V blankly as she tried to think of an excuse. She shrugged, trying her best to look natural but awkwardly smiling instead. “Nope, don’t have it! Maybe it’s just…not available to me or something?” she nervously laughed, hoping her words could get her out of this conversation. “Oh well, it’s fine! It’s not like I need it that badly, you know?” Great, wonderful excuse! Way to get out of that situation smoothly!

Ah, so this was another subject she was unwilling to divulge. But she reacted so differently compared to the other times. There was something more to this, he was certain of it, but there was no point continuing with this line of thought. But he couldn’t just drop it entirely. “True, you do not technically need a Devil Trigger,” he began, playing along with her bad excuse. “However, it would still be beneficial to have access to it. It will allow you to unleash powers that would otherwise remain dormant. Perhaps we can work on unlocking it during our time here.” He smirked at her.

Great, now she felt bad about withholding the truth from him like this. But what could she do? This wasn’t something she was comfortable talking about, even if she knew he wouldn’t care about such things. Things had to be this way though, whether he believed her or not, Kay just wasn’t ready to confront that. “Yeah, maybe so.” she muttered.

“Alright, alright, enough chit-chatting! We gotta get moving!” Griffon said.

“True, the demons alone are not our only troubles,” V said. “The roots will continue to be a problem as we move forward. We must keep ourselves focused.”

“How are we supposed to deal with them anyway?” Kay asked, glad to be getting away from her issues for now.

“We cut them down,” V explained. “We cannot stop them entirely, but we can prevent them from engulfing Red Grave City entirely. Though at this early stage, the roots will unlikely be removed so easily. Our efforts would be better utilized taking care of the demons.”

“We should also keep an eye out for civilians,” Kay added. “Evacuation efforts aren’t going to get everyone, it’s better that we help out people as much as we can if we find any.”

V didn’t respond. Perhaps she had a point there, but the Qliphoth would harvest blood regardless. Saving one or two people wouldn’t make much of a difference, and he knew that. But shooting her down wasn’t the best idea, at least not entirely. “...We’ll see what we can do.” he finally spoke.

Kay took notice of his hesitation. Was there something wrong with her idea? If the Qliphoth feasted on human blood, then saving people would give it less blood to drink, right? It could buy them some time, if only a little. But she didn’t feel like arguing about it right now, not when they had things they could be doing. “Anyway, let’s keep going! These roots aren’t going to get rid of themselves, you know?” Before he could interject, she began to move forward, humming to herself all the while.

V walked behind her, conflicted over their next course of action. Besides, how likely would it be that they would come across other people anyway?

I’m currently uncertain as to how many of these I’ll be making (I’m a few chapters ahead of this as I’m making this post), but I’m interested to share the kind of things that change as I write this fic!

#Prophet posts #Heaven In A Wild Flower #V x OC #Devil May Cry #KayV

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