#draw him NOT in a cowboy hat? ridiculous | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

melonn-soda · 30 days

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❝GIDDY UP & GO!!... ❞

word count: 3.3k

warnings: subbot! male reader, domtop! boothill, genitals are not explicitly mentioned, grinding, no actual penetration, unnecessary descriptions how much there is of spit (sorry if ur not into that), predator/prey if u squint, nd gunplay if u squint really really hard (is implied), lots of pentnames, praise, save a horse ride a cowboy but I change a factor, cowboy hat rule because RRGHGHGRHRGHHGHGHG

prompt: boothill has made it his life mission to cash in the money he gets when he lands you behind bars. however, when it becomes apparent as to why you let him pursue you, he begins to chase you for an entirely different reason

notes: lost 50/50 to yanqing (he's still my kid nd I love him regardless YANQING HATERS LEAVE!!!!) when wishing for aventurine. now I'm pulling for boothill if I don't get my little gambler (if Sunday is playable and better than boothill then im sorry to my fav cowboy yeehaw) not beta read

fem aligned dni

“Oh, my.”

Boothill hates your guts. That’s a given.

He hates the way you carry yourself, the sly remarks you’ll make if you spot even one hint of insecurity, the slight draw on certain syllables to give a mocking tone- you, in general. Although he’s more on the bothering side than the bothered, you’re just so much more annoying than he thought even possible. Guess that’s why you’re known as a high-end bandit.

He’s been on your tail for weeks, chasing any leads (a lot of them, like you wanted the chase) he could get his hands on. He’s even seen you slinking around taverns, poker tables, run-down hotels- for fucks’ sake, even on horseback racing down a dirt path while attempting to rob a moving train. To feel the satisfaction of seeing the credits Boothill would obtain after putting you behind bars is all he wants to experience because this is just getting ridiculous.

So, why the hell now, is he bound up to the ceiling with chains thicker than his own ankle after finding your base?

The amused smile finds its way upon your lips and Boothill wants to do nothing more than to kick it right off. You were in a vulnerable position before he decided to sneak in, with your chair tipped as your feet were kicked up on a busted wooden table, a bandana resting over your eyes to block out the sunlight that dared to drift into the room. Boothill made the dumbest mistake by alerting you of his presence through triggering a well hidden trip-wire. Perking you up, you began to rise from your seat, swiftly removing the bandana from your eyes and fingers instinctively on the handle of your revolver that sat on the gun holster strapped to your thigh. The trap triggered so fast, Boothill’s sensors barely had time to react to it before the ‘snap!’s and ‘crack!’s echoed throughout the room and he was pressed against the ceiling within seconds.

Sharp glares were stabbing through your form as your hand rested on your hip as you whistled, looking up at the ranger in slight surprise and smugness. Aeons, he hated you.

“Wow, such a reckless move to jus’ prance yer way in here, no? Hey, aren't cha a Galaxy Ranger or somethin’?” You tease, swiveling your chair so that you could sit backwards on it, crossing your arms atop of the back rest so you could rest your chin on your forearms, “Surely, ya coulda suspected that I woulda set up a trap. But why waste all yer precious time on someone as measly as me? I ain’t nothin’ but a lil’ ol’ bandit.”

“You better seal yer pretty lil’ lips, doll.” Boothill hisses at you, his voicebank glitching to censor the words he so desperately wanted to say, “My bullets don’t take too kindly to sweet talkers n’ foxes.”

A laugh echoes throughout the falling apart structure then settles into a hum as you stand up and kick the chair against the wall, “Ya sure like to talk big. Kinda fits ya, though.” The chair slams right under Boothill and you slowly make your way towards it, the clinking of spurs on your boots highlighting every step you take.

Looking up at the suspended robot, your left foot raises and rests on the seat, leaning in to provoke the cyborg even further, “It’s kinda cute how ya keep pursuin’ me despite all these failed attempts. How ‘bout I give ya more of a reason to keep chasin’ me than only doin’ it for jus’ the credits?”

Boothill’s eyebrows creased in suspicion as your hand raises up to his face, contemplating just biting your fingers straight off until he hears the click of the safety and a metal barrel against the human skin of his jaw. His teeth clench in anger as you nearly laugh at his compliance, reaching above his head and snatching his hat right off.

Oh, he was going to kill you for sure-

The hat plops onto your head and you wink at him while sticking your tongue out.

What.

There wasn’t-

There was no way.

“Catch me if ya can, cowboy.” You say dismissively, briskly turning around and walking out of the rundown hideout. However, before you could get out of his line of sight, your head turned to face him and you said, “I’ll be waitin’. As always.”

Dumbfounded and a half an hour later collapsed on the floor from the wooden boards snapping- which loosened the chains, he replays that minute over and over again. He didn’t want to believe that had actually happened but his memory told him otherwise.

There was no way that you...

Whatever. He’ll think about it later. He needs to get his damn hat back.

The first time Boothill finds you, it’s in a more forest-y area. You’re on your trusty steed, talking to some other criminals with little interest. The cowboy watches the interaction, paying special attention to your reactions to see if you’ve noticed his presence. From what he could tell, you didn’t seem to see that he was watching while using the shrubbery to cover him and the horse he was on. The people you were talking to he recognized from some wanted posters, only worth some credits. Not as much as your bounty, though.

...

...You’re still wearing his hat.

“Look, partner,” Your voice dips into an exhausted, low, sigh, “I need that shipment as soon as possible, ya hear? I ain’t got too much time left before she’s reached her time. Ion care how ya get it, I need it in at least a week! Otherwise she’ll get real snappy and I’m gonna hafta put some lead in some poor person's head.”

One of the bandits flashes a worried look to another, “Boss, ya don’t understand! The Xianshou Luofu’s been havin’ sum sorta delay! We ain’t gonna get those packages ‘til some long period of time!”

Boothill’s interest peaks as you begin to snap, “Did ya not hear me? I said, ‘Ion care how ya get them!’ Find a way! Talk to that Trailblazer everyone’s been praisin’ about or somethin’! Jus’ get me my stuff before ‘m gonna start blowin’ some brains out-”

A rustle causes you to pause your sentence as you draw your weapon immediately, the barrel facing his direction and bullets fly. Boothill’s horse had begun to munch on the bush, which gave away his position, but thankfully he moved quick enough to get out of the way.

You decided to book it when you caught sight of the familiar white and black hair, spurs hitting the sides of your horse as you begin to get out of the area to leave nothing but a trail of dust. Boothill doesn’t hesitate to race after you, whipping the reins of his horse to get her going.

Branches and twigs tug at Boothill’s hair as he chases you through the forest, lowering his torso so that he could lessen the wind resistance as his horse’s hooves slam against the ground. You’re quite the distance away, mostly because your horse is pretty speedy. It’s how you get away from crime scenes so fast. However, Nellie, the horse Boothill is riding currently, is also quite fast.

Although, not fast enough because in the end, he still loses you.

The curses he spits all get censored immediately as he slows into a stop, head turning in every direction to see if you left any trail behind. Only to see none. Didn’t expect as much from a skilled criminal.

The second time he spots you is in the tavern, playing a game of poker with people that had their pockets stuffed full of cash. ‘Rich folk,’ Boothill grimaces as he could see them tilt their chin up like the world owes them something. If you rob them, he won’t feel even a sliver of remorse.

He knows that you can see him as he leans against the wall to watch the match, some of the rich getting intensively frustrated as they begin to fold after betting so high. Judging by the scheming smile on your face, he could tell you have a winning hand. Then again, when are you never smiling like you have something up your sleeve?

Finally, in the showdown, you and the person you’re going up against reveal your cards and you win with a four of a kind. Lucky.

The people at the table groan and push their chips in your direction, getting up to leave as their attitudes have just been soured over that singular match. Boothill takes the opportunity to walk over to you and remove the gun from his holster and press it right up against your lower back, hand coming up to snatch his hat that rests atop your head.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

A window shatters behind him and he could hear flames begin to roar but he doesn’t dare tear his eyes away from you. Only when he feels cold metal press against the nape of his neck does his actions falter and his eyes turn to face whoever decided to draw their weapon.

He blinks in shock to see a figure completely made of water, his gaze returning to you and seeing you sitting on the edge of the table with your gun pressed against his forehead. Shit. He’s lost again.

The tavern completely surrenders to the flames as people scream at the sight of fire, swallowing up the alcohol and wood. Boothill can hear his fans whirring to prevent himself from overheating but the attempt is futile as the room begins to get unbearably hot. He’s not sure if it’s just the fire that’s causing him to overheat or it’s because you look insanely good with all this red and orange light.

...

What is he even thinking right now?

“Y’know, it’s gettin’ real fun toyin’ with ya, cowboy.” You speak, completely unbothered by all the heat in the building. He can’t even see a single drop of sweat on your face. Even so, you continue, “But I think ya can do a little better than this.”

The ranger’s lips purse in offense, glaring at you as best as he could. The gun you had pointed lazily at his forehead falls to the floor and Boothill isn’t sure how long he can last in this heat. Before his system could finally shut down because of overheating, he could feel your lips press against the area where your gun was pressed up against. Then, he falls over as his system forcibly turns him off.

The third time Boothill sees you, he’s lying on a metal workbench with cold water floating above him and fans blowing in his direction. He’s confused, obviously, and on his toes as he realizes he’s not in an area he’s not familiar with. He attempts to sit up to find a way to escape only to realize that he can’t move his arm. Now, he’s terrified.

“Relax, cowboy.” Your voice coos from behind a computer, typing away at something as you're taking a tip from a glass. Presumably water. “I’m cooling ya off. You’re welcome... You should be able to move now.”

Boothill shoots up from his spot and rips off the cables that are attached to his left arm, head darting around to look for his gun. He hears a click and once again finds himself with a gun pressed up against his jaw.

“Lookin’ for this?”

The crosshair that replaces his once human pupils flit over to your direction, noticing that you were holding his revolver in your dominant hand. Boothill swears that you must like pointing a barrel in his direction for how many times this has been done. He also sees that you’re wearing his very cropped jacket over your usual attire. ... And you’re still wearing his hat.

“That’s mine, pretty boy.” The ranger gives you a half-assed growl as his censor kicks in once more, already getting annoyed at your sly behaviour, “Ya really got a knack for takin’ stuff that’s not yours, huh? No wonder yer a criminal.”

You giggle at his words, tossing his gun on the metal workbench, “It’s not loaded, neither is your little gun hand.” You tell him, like he was going to start unloading mags into your skin. Turning around, you walk back to your computer and open up a drawer on the desk it sits on, “Well?” You ask after a momentary silence, leaning on one of your legs as you crack open a bottle of whiskey and begin to pour it into your empty glass.

“‘Well’, what?” Boothill narrows his eyes at you, picking up his revolver and shoving it back into his thigh holster. He’ll just have to go to the nearest mechant and buy more bullets.

“Ain’t ya gonna, I don’t know, take yer hat back?” You ask him, taking a sip of the alcohol that gives a slight burn down your throat, “We’re in an enclosed space, barely any room t’move around, exit’s right behind ya ‘n all. Perfect chance t’arrest me, if I dare so say m’self.”

He blinks. There’s got to be some sort of trap if the setup is this perfect. He’s not going to make the same mistake he did before, not again. So, his sensors scan the room quickly, which leaves you unamused, and he sees that there are in fact no traps in this room. Boothill almost doesn’t want to believe it.

“Are ya playin’ some sort of game with me?” Boothill’s eyes begin to squint in suspicion, carefully trying to think of a situation you might pull that puts him on the losing end of the stick, “Yer jus’ gonna let yourself get arrested? Jus’ like that?”

“What? Ya don’t wanna do it? Too scared?” You taunt him again, causing the cowboy’s circuits to boil in animosity.

“Ya know what?” Boothill smiles a tense one, taking long, menacing steps in your direction, “I’ve ‘bout had it with your attitude, pretty boy. Seems like ya didn’t have anybody ta teach ya proper manners.” All of a sudden, you felt yourself being slammed up against the wall behind you with a grunt, Boothill’s right hand keeping your wrists together and his left hand tilting your chin up to look at him, his eyes glowing a dangerous red, “I mean, after that stunt ya pulled in yer lil’ base, it seems like ya wanna be caught by me.”

“Hah.. guilty as charged.” You laugh, attempting to keep your smooth facade up, only for it to crack once you could feel his metal knee nudge between your thighs. A whine rips through your throat as he keeps his knee still, not bothering to give you the pleasure you oh so wanted from the day you saw him.

“How ‘bout it, doll?” Boothill sneers at your pathetic expression, lips getting dangerously close to yours, “I can give ya a better punishment than jail could.”

One thing’s for sure: Boothill’s mechanical body does not have any built in... pleasure devices, he’s nearly as smooth as a doll. However, there is a slightly large bump on his pelvis in the shape of an oval that if you were to grind just right up against, you’ll-

“O-oh!”

Boothill’s lips curve up into a smirk as he sees you push down hard against his metallic form, trying to settle your trembles by wrapping your arms tightly around his neck to stabilize yourself. It’s cute, he thinks, seeing you all desperate for sexual relief. The way you hopelessly cling to him like he’s the last thing keeping you alive. He can’t believe he actually thought about putting you behind bars if getting you wrapped around his finger was this satisfying.

“How’s it feel, pretty boy?” Boothill whispers in your ear, causing a shiver to rack your spine as his grip adjusts to settle on your lower waist, pushing you even further against him, “Feel like yer gonna explode yet?”

Whimpering in response, your shaky fingertips grip onto his shoulders as your forehead now presses against his. Soft pants fill the room and Boothill can practically see the hearts in your eyes as your hips continue to move against his. You both still have your clothes on but this all still feels so intimate, probably better than actual penetration.

The ranger’s hand reaches up to tug his hat that still rests on your head, fixing it back from its tilted state, “Ya look like ya wanna kiss, doll.” He teases, bringing your chin closer to the point where your noses brushed up against one another.

“Pl-please..” You say breathily, gently tugging at his hair.

“Attaboy.” Boothill snickers in response, “Looks like yer finally learning.” His freakishly long tongue slithers past his lips as soon as they press against yours, slipping into your mouth as saliva begins to spill down your chin. Aeons, you’re just so cute.

Soft moans are swallowed up by Boothill’s greedy mouth, his thumb coming up to pull against your bottom lip before he pulls away and the only thing that connects your mouths is the thin trail of spit. His robotic thumb pushes into your mouth, pressing against your tongue as drool continues to spill down your pretty lips. He could get used to this.

He notices how much faster your hips move, calculating that you were close as whines and whimpers flood the room. The smile on Boothill’s face only widens even further, bumping his hips up to catch you off guard. He knows he succeeds when he hears a shaky squeak come from your mouth.

“What’s wrong, pretty boy? Ya gonna bust?” The ranger sneers, the thumb in your mouth shifting so he widens your lips by pushing at the sides, “Y’know, I could easily deny ya of that relief. Ya kinda deserve it for teasin’ me this whole time.”

You shake your head violently, already too close to be pulled away now. Boothill snickers in response, “No? What makes ya think you can tell me what to do?” A pleading look flashes across your features and Boothill has half the decency to make you beg for release. He decides to have mercy on you, though, “Mmmn, I mean, I guess ya have been pretty obedient. Go on and blow yer load f’me, pretty.”

With a shudder and a slight bite on Boothill’s metal thumb, your pants get soaked in your fluids, staining the fabric. Your hips jerk a couple of times to ride out your orgasm then you started slumping onto his chest in exhaustion. Boothill’s other hand rubs at your hip to soothe you, letting you rest in place to calm the trembles that still cause your body to twitch in overstimulation.

“Good boy.” He says softly, pulling his thumb out of your mouth, watching as it dripped since it was slick with your spit. Letting you catch your breath for a moment, he waits before he decides to ask, “So, what package were ya waitin’ for?”

“Baby stuff.” You sigh, face burying into Boothill’s neck, “My sister’s expecting ‘nd her wife’s been tellin’ me to get that stuff as soon as possible. The Luofu has been delaying their packages for a bit, somethin’ about shippin’ difficulties. Can’t believe ya’d remember something like that, though.”

The cowboy huffs in response, “Bein’ a cyborg’s got some perks. The only bad part is that ion got a dick to fuck ya with. Woulda been nice to see ya unable to walk for a few days.”

You sit up and give him a weird look, hands resting on his shoulders, “Ya do know strap-ons exist, right?” The way you said that made him feel much stupider, like you were pointing out the obvious to him.

“...Oh.” Boothill’s face flushes embarrassingly hot as his fans kick in once more.

Aeons, he hated you.

#x male reader #male reader #x bottom male reader #bottom male reader #hsr x male reader #hsr x reader #hsr boothill #boothill hsr #boothill honkai star rail #boothill x reader #boothill x male reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x male reader

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say-al0e · 1 year

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Just Friends

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

Summary: Everyone seems to think you’re Jake Seresin’s girl. It’s easier than explaining to them that you’re just friends with benefits. But that arrangement doesn’t seem to be working for either of you anymore. | Ft. “No, you idiot. I’m in love with you.” + “We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.” requested by anonymous and “You matter to me, you asshole.” + “I think you were put on this earth for the sole purpose of being a pain my ass.” requested by @dreamlandcreations

Warnings: Miscommunication, idiots FWB to lovers, fear of unrequited feelings, jealous!Jake, therapist Bradley, unprotected PinV. (I think that’s it but let me know and I’ll tag anything else)

Pairing: Hangman x fem!Reader

Word Count: 9.3k (....sorry)

Top Gun Taglist | Top Gun Masterlist

The Hard Deck was, as it always seemed to be on Friday nights, packed to the rafters. A sea of khaki greeted you the moment you stepped inside with Jake following close behind but, for the first time in a long while, he wasn’t dressed to match. Instead, he’d opted for a pair of jeans, a button-down you’d stolen on more than one occasion, and boots that had seen better days - though he had to be talked out of the cowboy hat, less to protect him from ridicule and more to protect your sanity. However, he still managed to blend into the crowd as you weaved your way through to the bar.

Jake remained close, as he always did, and kept a hand on the small of your back as he nodded his greeting to the handful of familiar faces he came across. The heat from his body bled through the thin material of his shirt - he always seemed to run hotter than the average, warm to the touch on even the coldest of days - and you could feel it warming your skin as he took a half-step closer to allow someone to pass.

Only one stool remained at the bar, the others occupied with the beginning of the night’s rush, and Jake pulled it out for you with a wink and a grin when you squeezed his bicep in thanks.

“Are there more people than usual or have I just not been in in a while?”

The question went unheard by those sitting closest to you, drowned out by the noise of a group cheering in the corner, but he heard you clearly. He leaned in, breath fanning over your neck - the scent of mint gum and that woodsy cologne filling your nose, sending a shiver down your spine that you worked to repress lest he notice - as he laughed quietly. “See, sweets, this is what happens when you avoid going out with me,” he teased, grinning when you rolled your eyes.

Avoiding Jake Seresin was the last thing on your mind. If anything, you’d gotten into a bad habit of altering plans just to spend more time with him and he knew that. Still, you huffed petulantly and shifted to lean against the bar. “If you want to blame anyone, blame my boss.”

Jake waved a hand, teasing, dismissive, and shook his head as he met your gaze. There was an easy amusement in his eyes, dancing across the sharp planes of his face, and you forced yourself to draw in even breaths even as you felt your heart rate skyrocket. “Excuses, excuses,” he drawled, biting back a laugh when you rolled your eyes at him, now second nature, regardless of how difficult it still was to think with his full attention on you. “But I’ll let you have it. Tonight, anyway.”

“How generous of you, Hangman.” It was deadpan, a stoic jab he’d heard a thousand times over, but you couldn’t help yourself as you raised a teasing brow. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re a damn saint?”

Another laugh, this one a little louder and drawing the attention of a handful of nearby service members, escaped Jake as he shifted his hand to squeeze your side. The heat of his palm bled through the thin material of your top, sank into your skin and branded his touch into your memory, but you refused to dwell as you focused on his reply. “What can I say, sugar? I’m a giver.”

Despite his reputation - narcissistic, selfish asshole - Jake was, indeed, a giver. He prided himself on giving just as good as he got, if not better, and you were grateful to be on the receiving end. Still, the innuendo made your face heat and had you glancing over your shoulder, just to see if anyone had heard.

With another roll of your eyes, you nudged his side but said nothing. There were moments Jake flustered you silent, struck you quiet with a quick retort, and the thought of his selflessness - in the form of that handsome face pressed between your thighs - had you ducking your head as Jake laughed. He shifted closer, trying to move out of the way, and you sighed quietly as you spared a glance around the bar.

There was no question what you and Jake looked like to anyone who glanced your way - to the table of women who’d clocked Jake the moment he stepped through the door, the group clad in flight suits who’d eyed you as you crossed the room - or anyone who overheard a snippet of your conversation.

The protective hand he kept on you, snug at the small of your back; the way he lingered at your side, body angled toward you, rather than toward the crowd; the way he tipped his head down, pressing himself even closer in an effort to hear you over the din of the bar - the implication was clear. You looked like any other couple, out for a night of drinks with friends, and you only wished it were that simple.

Nothing ever was, especially not when it came to Jake, so you refused to allow yourself to dwell on that thought. You’d resigned yourself to your fate - doomed to be little more than friends with benefits, comfortable with casual intimacy until you began to consider your feelings - and figured Jake didn’t give your situation any thought at all.

Pulling you out of your distraction, Jake nudged your side and tipped his head toward the pool tables in the corner.

Spotting the rest of the group was always easy - they rarely strayed far from the pool tables by the windows, usually busying themselves with a game as they decompressed - and you returned their greetings with a grin and a wave of your own.

Penny, who was manning the bar alone for the time being, shot you both a smile as she placed the same bottle of beer Jake usually ordered on the counter in front of you. It would be a few minutes before she made her way to you, if the crowd was any indication, and you could feel Jake shifting at your side.

This wasn’t the first time you’d accompanied him to the Hard Deck - you ended up by Jake’s side in the little bar more often than you cared to admit - and had a routine. “I’ll be fine, Jake,” you assured him, laughing as you caught him glancing at the pool table. You turned just in time to see Javy tip his head in invitation, urging Jake to join him in a game against another set of pilots, and nudged his side. “Go ahead. I’m gonna get a drink and people watch. I’ll make my way over eventually.”

Just as he always did, Jake eyed you for a moment, clearly debating being chivalrous. He would offer to remain by your side, wait with you for Penny to make your drink, and guide you over to the pool table to hang out with the others, but you always nudged him away.

When you cut your eyes at him, he relented. “Alright,” he acquiesced, lifting his hands in mock defeat, though he still managed to grin. “I’m going. You need me, you know where to find me.” When you nodded, acknowledging the same declaration he gave every time, he turned his attention to Penny. “Penny, m’dear, her drinks are on me.” She knew that by now - had been given the same instruction at least every other Friday for nearly a year - but still nodded, acknowledging Jake’s insistence.

With that, Jake nodded and squeezed your side gently before heading for the group.

From the bar, you were able to catch sight of the group as he approached and laughed as Rooster pointed at the boots Jake wore with raised brows. Through the din, you weren’t able to make out the comment but knowing the pair, you figured it was a dig at Jake’s fashion sense. True to your assumption, the pair began to trade good-natured jabs and you shook your head as you turned your attention elsewhere.

In the beginning, when Jake first invited you to join him at the Hard Deck - back when you could confidently tell the others that you were just friends, back when you believed that yourself - finding your place amongst the crowd seemed next to impossible.

The bar, once overwhelming and far too busy for someone used to less populated divers, was now familiar. Many of the faces were now ones you knew, ones you’d seen a dozen times over, and most of them would even greet you alongside Jake now. You often marveled at how quickly it seemed to become something akin to a home base, beloved and revered and a highlight of your week, but the thought never lasted longer than a moment. The Hard Deck was part of your life now, just as Jake was, and you weren’t one to question it.

Questions, in general, weren’t asked outright.

Though people stopped to speak with you occasionally, no one ever asked about your relationship status - no one outside of the group of friends Jake managed to make, anyway - and no one needed to. Just friends or not, it was clear to anyone who glanced your way that you were Jake Seresin’s girl.

Knowing that everyone saw you as Jake’s girl eased some of the weight pressing on your chest. It made it a little easier to breathe, made you feel a little more secure as you sat at the bar, but that feeling never lasted very long. It didn’t matter much what everyone else thought, not when you knew different. You weren’t his girl, not really, and that hurt more than you cared to admit.

The little moments, hallmarks of a relationship, were the ones that got you the most.

Jake had no problem placing a hand on the small of your back to guide you through the crowd or throwing an arm over your shoulders in a brief greeting when you joined him near the pool table, but that was as far as PDA went.

Not being able to wander over to him, press a kiss to his shoulder, his jaw, the corner of his mouth as he stood with a pool cue and a beer in hand; not being able to warp your arms around his waist and lean fully into him, lose yourself in the weight of his arm wrapped around your shoulders or the feel of his hand in yours; not being able to love him in the way you so desperately wanted, eager to show him just how deeply you cared, made your chest ache in a way that was growing all too familiar.

It was growing all too difficult to keep up with the charade. Pretending that you were fine with the arrangement you made before you really got to know Jake - before you fell in love with him - seemed to be getting harder by the day but there wasn’t much you could say without losing him entirely.

And when it came to Jake, you were used to being halfway happy.

There would come a time when halfway happy wasn’t enough, you knew that. But you hadn’t figured out how to live a life without him yet. The vast majority of your free time was spent with him - tucked into his sheets, his body between your thighs; lying on your couch, watching some shitty movie in one of his t-shirts as he lounged in sweats; sitting on the beach, sand covering your entire body and crashing of waves replacing the sound of his soft moans in your ears - and you knew that life without him would be an adjustment.

For now, however, you refused to dwell on what that might look like.

However, as hard as you tried to brush that thought away - the thought that one day, maybe soon, you’d be forced to live a life without Jake Seresin in it - it continued to plague you as you sat at the bar. The crowd shifted around you and you watched, eyes skimming the crowd but not truly seeing, as service members came and went.

The seat beside you had been empty for a while but you really only noticed when a new body filled the void to your right and knocked a knee into yours.

Bradley Bradshaw smiled at you, that soft half-smile he used when he wasn’t quite sure how to approach, before glancing at Penny and raising a hand for her to bring him another beer. When the bottle was placed in front of him, he turned back to you.

“Long time no see,” he began, smile growing a touch more real when you met his eyes. “Where’s Hangman been hiding you?”

A scoff, practiced and easy - hopefully enough to hide the dark cloud that had formed above your head - escaped before you took a sip from your now watered-down drink. “He wishes it was that easy to get rid of me,” you joked, smiling slightly when Bradley laughed. “I’ve just been busy. Work’s been kind of insane.”

Bradley hummed thoughtfully, considering your statement, before taking a sip of his beer. “Explains why Hangman’s been more annoying than usual lately.” The comment was teasing, a jab you’d heard more than once - most of the Dagger Squad claimed that Jake was more manageable with you around - but Bradley gave you no time to dismiss the thought as he continued, “Glad you were able to get out tonight, though.”

The group had been nothing but kind to you, welcoming in a way you hadn’t expected, and your smile grew a little wider as you nodded. “Yeah,” you agreed readily, “me, too.” Even if you’d driven yourself to distraction, thinking about what may never be, you were truly happy to be back at the Hard Deck. Still, you decided to shift the conversation to Bradley. “How’re you? I’ve heard this first class is… challenging.”

Jake didn’t speak of work often but he’d taken to venting some of his frustration with you, occasionally sharing his annoyance as you lounged in your living room, and you knew that their first class of Top Gun recruits was not the cakewalk they’d imagined. Bradley’s wince seemed to confirm Jake’s assessment.

“I know I wasn’t a saint when I was going through it,” he began, sparing a glance over his shoulder at a group of pilots in the corner, “but I don’t think I was ever that cocky.”

“I’m willing to bet Jake was.”

If the comment surprised Bradley, he didn’t let it show. Instead, he laughed and nodded his agreement easily. “Yeah, he was. Hasn’t changed much, either,” he pointed out, eying him where he stood near the dartboard with Coyote. You knew that it wasn’t exactly a negative observation - Jake and Bradley had grown to be friends, truly fond of one another, despite their differences - and smiled as he returned his attention to you. “Some of these kids are going to give him a run for his money, though.”

“Another Hangman? Yikes. How will the Navy survive?”

Bradley hid his grin behind his beer as he shrugged. “We may never know.”

The conversation tapered off then, a comfortable silence falling over the pair of you as the crowd continued to thrive around you. As Bradley turned his attention to the group of friends he’d wandered away from, you spared a glance at Jake. He hadn’t seemed to notice your new companion yet - or didn’t care enough to glance your way - and the thought made you sigh before returning your attention to Bradley.

It was no secret that Bradley Bradshaw was beautiful. His beauty was different than Jake’s - a little less polished, a little rougher around the edges - and there was a certain charm to him that drew people in. Some days, you wondered what life might’ve been like had you met any of the others before Jake managed to sweep you off your feet, but that wasn’t a thought you ever let run very far.

Like it or not, Jake Seresin had you in his clutches. You were in love and there was little you could do to change that.

Still, Bradley seemed to read the look on your face and laughed quietly. A wry smile twisted his lips as he took a pull from his beer. “No offense,” he began as he spared you a sideways glance, “you’re beautiful and if you were here with anyone other than Hangman, I wouldn’t hesitate. But I don’t feel like fighting him. Today, anyway.”

As Bradley glanced over his shoulder, in the direction of the dartboard, you allowed your gaze to follow. This time, Jake was already eying you and the expression on his face was unreadable, a stoic mask that you weren’t in the mood to decipher. He hadn’t given you that look in months and you had a sneaking suspicion he wouldn’t be giving you that look were it not for your company.

With a sigh, you returned your attention to the drink in front of you - now melted ice and a hint of vodka. “We’re just friends,” you explained, though the declaration sounded weak in your own ears, hollow and rehearsed, and you were unable to look him in the eye. You weren’t sure who you were really trying to convince; him or yourself.

“Does he know that?” When you tipped your head to fix him with an unimpressed look, Bradley raised a hand in mock defense. “Look, Hangman’s a lot of things - an ass, mostly - but he’s not subtle.”

A snort of agreement - undignified but honest - escaped with a nod. Jake Seresin didn’t believe in subtlety and you were a firsthand witness. Though, that was at least part of the reason you were certain friendship was the only offer on the table.

“Subtle he is not,” you agreed, swirling your glass just for something to occupy your hands, “and he has made it very clear that he’s not interested in a relationship. So, just friends. With benefits.”

“When was the last time you talked about it? Because, I’ll be honest, on that first night, none of us thought we’d see you again. But then you came back,” he reminded you, expression as serious as you’d ever seen it. “It’s been nearly a year. Even when you’re not here with him, he’s with us or Coyote, doesn’t even look at anyone else. We’ve all seen the change in him,” Bradley admitted, knee knocking into yours to get your undivided attention. “There’s more to you and we can all see it. We get Hangman but you get Jake.”

Realistically, there was no reason for Bradley to lie to you. There was no way he could know the fantasy you were certain only existed in the depths of your mind. You considered him a friend - an acquaintance, at least - but you weren’t close enough for him to feel the need to protect your feelings. There was no reason for him to tell you what you wanted to hear but that did little to calm the churning in the pit of your stomach.

The thought that Jake Seresin could love you in the way you loved him, that he could truly want you - all of you, not just the parts that were convenient - seemed impossible. Too good to be true, even.

“Y’know, if flying doesn’t work out, you could make a hell of a therapist.” Bradley fixed you with an unimpressed look, accompanied by a disappointed tilt of his head, at your deflection. “Fine,” you sighed. It was clear that he wouldn’t be swayed, convinced that he was doing you and Jake a favor, so you gave in to the line of conversation. “Sure, I get Jake, but not all of him. I get just enough to break my heart and, honestly, I don’t know if I can keep doing this, Bradley.”

“I try to avoid talking to Hangman at length,” Bradley joked. That was true once upon a time, though things had changed since the first Dagger mission. You knew he wouldn’t be trying so hard unless he truly cared about him - about you both - but the joke still pulled a small smile to your lips as he nudged your knee once more. “You can’t, though. That’s only setting you both up for hurt.”

“Alright, Dr. Bradshaw,” you teased, though it sounded weak in your own ears. Bradley rolled his eyes and you relented with a nod. “Yeah. You’re right, I know. I just… I don’t want to ruin what we’ve got. It’s better than nothing.”

“For now,” he reminded you before sparing a glance over his shoulder. When you followed his gaze, it landed squarely on Jake who was eying the pair of you with a look that you didn’t like very much. It was harder than it had been only moments before, darker. The set of his jaw, the narrowing of his eyes, the thin line of his lips - it was a look you’d only seen a handful of times and it tied your stomach in knots. “Looks like you’ll have plenty to talk about tonight, anyway.”

Bradley had the decency to hide his amusement with a pull from his beer as you huffed. “I really don’t like that look.”

“In his defense,” Bradley began, lifting himself from his stool, “I’m pretty sure it’s directed at me, not you.” He shrugged, seemingly unbothered by the weight of Jake’s gaze on his every move, and offered you a final smile as he reached for the new beer Penny left in place of his empty bottle. “Believe it or not, Hangman really is better when he’s with you. He’s tolerable, almost. And I think you’ll both be happier when you talk about it.”

“Yeah.” Another sigh, this one resigned to the fact that your night would end with a conversation you weren’t sure you were ready to have, before you shot him a half-hearted smile. “Thanks, Bradley.”

With a nod and a tap to the bar, Bradley turned to make his way back to the pool table. You could see the question in Phoenix’s eyes - in the raise of her brow when he returned - but didn’t bother keeping an eye on the conversation as your attention returned fully to Jake.

The moment Bradley wandered away, Jake pressed the remaining darts into Coyote’s hands and made his way through the crowd. He stood close, body radiating a heat that you usually found so comforting, and you nearly held your breath as he offered Penny his card to settle what had to be the smallest tab he’d ever started.

Green eyes, alight with an annoyance that told you Bradley was right - there would, indeed, be a conversation of some type before the night’s end - met yours. Instead of calming the rapid beat of your heart, it only seemed to send you spiraling further when he pressed a hand to the small of your back.

“You looked like you were having fun.”

It was casual - almost dismissive - the way he said it, but you could feel the ice in his comment chilling you to the core. Try as he might to feign nonchalance, you knew him. You could read the acid behind the charming smile he wore and swallowed hard.

This was his way of picking a fight - just as he had the first time a stranger at the Hard Deck hit on you, just as he had the last time a stranger at another bar stood a little too close - and you were in no mood to indulge him. You weren’t interested in admitting you hadn’t really considered anyone else a possibility in months, that you hadn’t even really looked at anyone else since beginning your relationship with him.

Instead, you brushed his hand away and stood from your stool before beginning to nudge your way out of the bar.

There was no doubt Jake was on your heels, so close your could still smell his cologne, but you didn’t dare spare him a glance until you reached the passenger side of his vehicle. When you turned to glance at him, shoulders slumped and backs of your eyes stinging with traitorous tears, the frown on his face drew a weary sigh.

“I’m tired, Jake,” you lied, arms folding over your chest. “Just take me home, please.”

Jake’s hands flexed, desperate to keep himself calm - and to keep himself from falling into the habit of reaching for you, tugging you into his chest and kissing you breathless with the intent of reminding you just whose name sounded best on the tip of your tongue. “I’m sure Rooster would have no problem taking you home. Why don’t you ask him?”

The sneer was unsurprising. Jake’s tried and true tactic in response to any kind of hurt - real or perceived - remained a sharp remark, designed to cut deep and you could feel your own weariness being replaced by annoyance. It tasted bitter, harsh and unfamiliar, as you shook your head.

“We were just talking.” It took considerable effort to keep your voice even, devoid of the anger you knew he was hoping to draw, but you managed as you met his gaze head on.

Jake scoffed, wholly unconvinced, and smiled that sardonic smile that made you understand why so many people seemed to dislike Hangman - a persona you were fortunate enough to have been beyond. That wasn’t Jake, not the one you knew, and you reminded yourself of that, even as he declared, “Sure didn’t look like it from where I was standing.”

“I don’t know what you think you saw, Jake, but I wasn’t flirting with Bradley.” The assertion was strong, confident, and accompanied by a glare you hoped would hurt him as much as he was hurting you. “But, honestly,” you began, words spilling into the night air before you could think twice, “so what if I was? I can flirt with whoever I want because we’re just friends. Right?”

A twitch of his jaw, the slightest gesture but telling, was the only reaction you managed to pull from him. Instead, he shut down and that stoic mask - a front, hiding the raging sea that still swirled in the depths of his eyes - returned as he reached for the door handle. “We’re not just friends and you fucking know it."

“Then what are we, Jake?” The question was quiet, nearly lost to the crashing of waves, and Jake gave no indication that he’d heard you outside of another tic of his jaw.

No answer was offered, no insight into what ran through his head. Instead, Jake pulled open the passenger door and tipped his chin toward the seat. “Get in.”

While silence with Jake was not uncommon, it had never been uncomfortable. You’d gotten into the habit of spending the odd night together, lying in silence as you both read or scrolled through your phones in the afterglow of sex, but it was comfortable. There was never a weight to it but the silence that lingered on the ride to your place pressed on your chest and constricted your lungs.

Tension, thick and blinding, filled the car, even as Jake pulled into your driveway and shut off the engine. Neither of you spoke for a long moment, both staring straight ahead and attempting to gather your thoughts. You were tempted to go inside, leaving Jake behind, and calling it a night. But you couldn’t help yourself.

“You matter to me, you asshole,” you reminded him, voice a whisper in the darkness. “You know that, right?”

“Yeah? Rooster matter to you, too?”

The lack of venom in the question told you that he didn’t mean it. It was a reflex, his go-to when he felt cornered - likely by the realization that tonight would not end the way either of you imagined it would - and you wanted to give him grace. But this had become more frequent lately, a bitter end to nice nights, and had been working your nerves. Combined with the acrid taste of reality you’d doused yourself with earlier in the night, you couldn’t bite your tongue.

With a shake of your head, you unbuckled your seatbelt and turned to look at Jake. “You just can’t help yourself, can you? Jesus, sometimes I think you were put on this earth for the sole purpose of being an asshole.” When Jake rolled his eyes, scoffing at the comment, you huffed. “Everyone can see that I’m in love with you, you dickhead. Bradley was trying to convince me that I should say something because it’s been so obvious to everyone but you for nearly a year and I can’t keep pretending that I’m okay with just being friends with benefits.”

Jake Seresin was not one to doubt himself, nor was he one to doubt the intentions of others. His romantic exploits had given him a great deal of confidence in navigating conversations about lust or even infatuation, but a confession of love was, undoubtedly, not something he’d been expecting to hear. For just a moment, you could see a flicker of surprise in his eyes before he blinked and shook his head. “You don’t mean that.”

It was clear that he hadn’t been loved in a long while - not by a partner, someone not obligated to love him through blood or shared trauma - and your heart broke as you watched him attempt to process the implication. What you had was safe, a way for him to keep his walls in tact while experiencing a modicum of the affection he so desperately wanted, but it wasn’t enough.

For either of you, it seemed.

Beneath the doubt, the surprise, lingered a glimmer of something bright. You refused to believe that it could be hope - because hope was the thing that would kill you - but you were in too deep to end the conversation there. So, you nodded.

“Yeah, I do. I’m in love with you. I know the lines have blurred in the last few months and a label doesn’t change much but, fuck, I can’t keep doing this. I can’t deal with not knowing where I stand with you. I can’t deal with being called your girl but knowing I’m really not. I can’t keep pretending that I’m okay playing house when I can’t even confidently tell my family about you.” With a sigh, you shook your head and admitted, “Half-happy isn’t enough for me anymore, Jake.”

Jake remained silent for a moment, statue still in the driver’s seat, but you could see the emotions flickering in his eyes. A part of you wanted to beg him to speak, to tell you to leave or that he was flattered but it would never work or that he was sorry to have lead you on, but you remained quiet and allowed him to process. And after the longest few moments of your life - in reality, no more than a minute or two - he lifted a warm hand to cup your jaw.

As if in slow motion, Jake leaned over the console and pressed his mouth to yours in a searing kiss. Though you’d kissed him more times than you could count over the last year, this kiss was unlike any other you’d shared. It was rough, passionate and clumsy with a lack of finesse Jake usually possessed, but it spoke volumes. His fingers pressed into the hinge of your jaw, lips warm and searching as he gave himself fully to the embrace.

The warmth of him, overwhelming in the small space, bled into your skin and sent a shiver down your spine as you allowed yourself a moment to indulge. The kiss felt like a goodbye - only comparable to the one you’d shared before Jake left for a weeklong mission - and you weren’t sure if you’d get another.

“Jake, stop,” you mumbled against his mouth, shifting your head as best you could to break the kiss. Despite the hold he kept on you, he allowed you to pull away and remained close as you tipped your head to search his face. There was no hint of what he was feeling, though you took a moment to commit the look to memory - the flushed cheeks, the ruddy lips, the bright eyes - before sighing. “You can’t get out of this conversation with sex.”

“We’re not just friends,” he repeated, voice so soft it made your chest ache. It was a tone you’d only heard once before, in the dim of your bedroom the night he returned, and it was accompanied by a softening of his features as he smoothed a thumb across your cheekbone. “You know it, and so do I.”

Hope, the thing you’d so desperately avoided for so long in relation to Jake Seresin, began to bloom in the pit of your stomach as soft eyes searched your face. That didn’t sound like a goodbye - in fact, it sounded more like a greeting, a welcome to feelings you’d both avoided breathing aloud - but you needed him to say it.

“Jake.” The murmur of his name was pleading, a desperate request for him to confirm that he shared your feelings, and it made him shift just a little closer.

“I’m in love with you, too,” he confirmed, corner of his mouth kicking up in a soft smile as you exhaled. The admittance felt like a jolt of adrenaline and you were half-certain you’d misheard him. But he doubled down and continued, “I have been for months.”

A warmth spread throughout your limbs, bright and burning hot, as you searched his face for any hint of deceit. Jake wouldn’t lie, not about this, but you were still cautious as you leaned into his touch.

Realistically, you knew that Jake had to have felt something for you. You’d been together for months in everything but name - starting with the first night he slept over - but to hear him confirm he felt the same, that he loved you, too, was almost too much. You’d spent so long telling yourself there was no way, that Jake couldn’t want you in the same way you wanted him, that you needed to hear him say it once more.

“Tell me again.”

Jake smiled, eyes bright even in the dim light filtering in through the window, as he leaned in. “I love you,” he repeated, lips brushing yours and breath fanning across your cheek.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” The question escaped before you could stop it, necessary to ask but not one you’d pictured bringing up so soon. Jake, however, seemed to have expected it.

“We said no strings,” he reminded you, shrugging slightly. “Even without them, we were’t seeing other people so I thought you knew and were happy with where we were. You said everyone knew you were in love with me. They knew I was in love with you, too.”

It was as if his answer should’ve been obvious, known to everyone but the two of you, and you realized that Bradley’s insistence you talk to Jake was coming from a place of knowledge rather than intuition. You were Jake’s girl and there was no reason to question it - it was fact, easily seen by anyone who happened to glance, but easy to miss when you were so caught up in your own head.

Still, you couldn’t help but ask, “Then why have you been such an ass lately? More than usual, anyway.”

Despite the huff of laughter that escaped, Jake’s smile quickly fell into a frown as his thumb brushed your cheekbone. He paused for a moment, seeming to consider his answer, before he sighed. His eyes searched your face, for what you weren’t sure. “This year has been pretty calm,” he began, frown deepening. “I’m usually gone, out of touch for months. I can’t give you what you deserve and I was waiting for you to figure that out. We weren’t seeing other people but there was never a conversation saying we couldn’t.”

“You were jealous?”

A small part of you expected him to deny it - to scoff and insist that Jake Seresin was immune to jealousy - but you could see the hint of insecurity in his eyes. The walls were crumbling in real time, shattering to pieces and baring the depths of his soul, and you couldn’t say you were surprised to see him shrug.

“More like I was just waiting for you to end things, realize a relationship wouldn’t work and move on with someone who could make you happy.”

Jake’s admission told you more than you imagined he intended. Though he’d had his fair share of experience before you, it was clear that very few of his relationships had been more serious than a brief affair. And for all his bravado, his esteem had taken a hit. He saw himself as enough to bed, enough to ogle, but not enough to love and you could feel the ache in your chest grow more prominent as you lifted your own hand to cup his cheek.

The warmth of his skin bled into your palm and you blinked back the sting of tears as Jake turned his head just enough to press a kiss to your palm. “I haven’t even considered anyone else since we met. I know it’s not always going to be easy but it’s worth it. You’re worth it.”

As soon as you finished speaking, Jake surged forward and pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was enough to steal your breath, to express the words he couldn’t quite speak just yet, and you sank into it fully. The seatbelt buckle dug into your skin, uncomfortable but tolerable as you focused on Jake’s touch, and you knew that this was where you were meant to be.

“Come inside,” you urged the moment Jake broke the kiss. Breathless and warm, you knew where the night was headed and didn’t want to lose yourself in the confines of the car.

Jake grinned at your invitation, eyes glittering with an amusement you’d missed, as he pulled away and unbuckled his own seatbelt. “You gonna let me?”

The double entendre was one you’d brought upon yourself but you still rolled your eyes fondly as you headed for the front door. “I hate you,” you called over your shoulder, laughing as he followed you into your home.

“No, you don’t. You love me,” he gloated, countenance brighter than you’d seen it in months as he pushed the door shut and locked it behind him.

“Why, I’ll never know.”

It was teasing, a taunt that made Jake roll his eyes, but he refused to let it linger as he reached out and gripped your hips. Jake pulled you close, body pressed to yours against the front door, and tipped his head to brush his lips against yours. “Why don’t we put that mouth to better use, sweetheart,” he proposed, smirking as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

Jake gave you no chance to respond. He leaned in and pressed his mouth to yours once more, captured your lips in a searing kiss that lit a flame to the already smoldering embers of arousal settling in the pit of your stomach. His fingers dug into the skin of your hips, pulled you as close as he could manage, and you knew there would be a reminder of his touch left in the morning.

The kiss tasted of mint and a hint of alcohol, achingly familiar in a way you never expected to love, and stole your breath as his hands slipped beneath the hem of your top. As his fingers skated across your skin, calloused and warm, he began to wander backward in the direction of your bedroom.

As many times as you’d done this, making the trek to your room was easy. You managed to avoid causing any damage - to your furniture or yourselves - and only broke the kiss the moment you stepped through the doorway.

Jake was always a sight to behold, golden and beautiful in even the worst moments, but there was something about him in moments like this that made you want nothing more than to observe him. There was a hint of pink dusting the tops of his cheeks, his lips ruddy and kiss swollen, and his hair mussed from your fingers raking through it.

“You can take a picture if you want,” he teased, grinning as he reached for the hem of your top. “Give you something to get off to when I’m away.”

“Fuck off,” you huffed, though it lacked venom entirely as you allowed him to strip the garment and toss it into a corner. “How do you want me?”

“You’re letting me choose? Damn, you must really love me.” Jake laughed at the look you shot him - unimpressed, though it was a struggle to hide your amusement - and knocked your hand away from the button of your jeans. “Hands off. That’s my job.” As the denim fell to the floor, exposing you to his hungry gaze, he whistled lowly. “Fuck, sugar, you get better every time. Lie back for me. I wanna take my time with you.”

With Jake, there was never any shame. He made you feel wanted, desired in a way no one else had, and you reveled in the feeling of his gaze roving your skin. He knew every inch of you, had been privy to this view more times than you could count, but something about the look in his eyes made you feel truly seen. It was as if he were looking at you for the first time all over again and you offered him a sultry smile as you settled onto the bed.

“It’s not fair I’m nearly naked and you’re fully clothed. Lose the jeans, cowboy.” Jake grinned at your order, however teasing it was, and readily shucked off his button-down and jeans. Just as he had, you let out a low whistle and winked when he approached the foot of the bed. “I hate to boost your ego but, Jesus, you’re hot.”

Jake didn’t bother responding. Instead, he climbed onto the bed and settled above you, caging you between his arms and grinning when you shuddered at the feeling of his heated skin meeting yours. He was careful not to settle his full weight onto you, only pressed enough to feel him, and leaned in to ghost kisses along the curve of your jaw.

Warm hands skated across your exposed skin, fingers tracing a path of fire down your arm, across your stomach, along the band of your panties, as he pressed his mouth to the pulse point just below your ear. There was little doubt he could feel the way your heart hammered beneath his lips, racing with every shift of his body, and you could feel his mouth curve into a smirk as his fingers dipped beneath the fabric of your panties.

“What d’you want, sweets? All you gotta do is ask, and I’ll give it to you,” he promised, calloused fingers skating along the top of your mound.

Every twitch of his fingers sent a shiver down your spine, had your heart rate doubling and set your skin alight. He was so close to where you wanted him and you knew that this time, he would give in the moment you asked. As your fingers threaded in his hair, nails raking through the mussed strands, you shifted your hips and sighed.

“Touch me, please.” The plea was soft, whispered in his ear as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, and you could feel the warmth of his breath as he exhaled heavily. When he didn’t move, fingers still against your skin, you whispered the words you knew would set him in motion. “Always make me feel so good,” you praised, one hand falling to his shoulder as your nails lightly scraped across his skin. “No one else could ever compare.”

“Damn right.” The praise, as expected, spurred him on. Jake’s hand slipped lower, fingers gliding through the slick between your thighs, and he groaned at the feeling. “Fuck, so wet, sugar. Just for me?”

“Always for you,” you confirmed, nails digging into his shoulder as his thumb brushed your aching clit. “Only for you.”

A soft sigh escaped as Jake coated his fingers in your slick, mouth pressed to your skin as he nipped at the delicate skin of your throat, and you could feel his cock twitch against your thigh. He knew exactly how to press your buttons, how to push you over the edge with only a few swipes of his fingers or tongue, and you arched into the feeling of his mouth traveling lower as he pressed his fingers into your entrance.

Jake trailed kisses down the column of your throat, across the delicate skin of your collarbone, and winked when he reached your breasts. He nipped at the soft skin, just enough to send a jolt down your spine, before he continued his descent. When he reached the band of your panties, he took the material between his teeth and began to tug, only removing his fingers from your center to rid you of the material.

Before you could whine at the loss, Jake gripped your thighs and parted them just enough to shoulder his way between them. He pressed himself as close as he could, placed one of your thighs over his shoulder, and turned his head to mouth at the soft skin of your thigh as his fingers returned to your center.

Every drag of his fingers was purposeful, slow and deliberate and designed to have you seeing stars, and you could feel the band in the pit of your stomach growing taut as his thumb circled your clit. Those eyes, blown black with lust, lifted to your face as your fingers threaded in his hair once more, and you nearly came from the sight alone.

Having Jake between your thighs, fingers dripping your slick and focus entirely on your pleasure, was more of a power trip than anything you’d ever experienced. Every nerve ending felt like a live wire, jolts of pleasure shooting down your spine as his fingers pressed deeper and deeper, and you could only manage to cry out his name as the first orgasm - of many, you were sure - washed over you.

“There we go, sweets,” he encouraged, breath fanning over your center and making you cry out, “look so fucking pretty when you fall apart for me. Can I have a taste?”

Despite the aftershocks, the tension in your thighs and the difficulty you seemed to have finding the words to convey your pleasure, you used the grip on his hair to tug his face closer to your center. Luckily, you’d been here before - knew one another well enough to speak without words - and Jake took your answer for what it was worth.

Jake’s mouth was sinful and you could feel him smirk at the moan that filled your room as he swiped his tongue through your folds. He returned the noise, groaning at the taste of you, and gripped your thighs to tug you closer. The feeling of his fingers, slick with your release, pressing into your skin coupled with the broad swipes of his tongue, desperate to push you over the edge once more, sent your pulse skyrocketing as you tugged his hair and ground your hips in search of relief.

The pleasure was overwhelming, all-consuming in the most perfect of ways, and you knew that he would spend his night between your thighs, if you let him. His nose brushed your clit with every tilt of his head, tongue lapping at the release you’d already given him, and you could see stars bursting behind your eyelids as he doubled down on his ministrations and returned his fingers to your center.

That second orgasm - truly, a continuation of the first as he hadn’t let you come down - had your back arching from the bed and your fingers gripping Jake’s hair, just a little too tight. He pressed his free hand to your hip, eager to keep you in place, and hummed as he lapped at the release you gave him.

While you knew he would keep going, push you to a third release with his mouth and fingers if you let him, you used your grip on his hair to weakly tug him away as the stimulation began to grow overwhelming. Your thighs shook beneath his hands and your breath came in heaving pants, unable to fill your lungs quick enough, and Jake grinned as he lifted his head.

“Tastes like heaven,” he declared, laughing only when you huffed a breathless noise of amusement. “You good, or you need a minute?”

As Jake shifted, hand on your hip and eyes searching your face in search of an answer, you beckoned him closer. Despite the evidence of your slick coating his mouth and chin, you tugged him in for a kiss and sighed into it as he eagerly returned the embrace.

Against your hip, you could feel the evidence of his arousal - small wet patch blooming against the fabric of his briefs, cock straining and weighing heavily against your skin - and you shifted your hips, just enough to make him groan.

“I’m good,” you assured him, voice hoarse with pleasure and still breathless. “Please, wanna feel you.”

Jake sighed as your hands, lightly trembling with the aftershocks of your orgasm, trailed along his torso to the band of his briefs. He shifted, just enough to allow you to nudge them down, before tugging them the rest of the way off and tossing them to join your clothes.

The weight of his body pressed to yours, skin warm and slick with the lightest sheen of sweat, had you keening as the tip of his cock brushed your clit before nudging your entrance. Jake inhaled sharply at the feeling, fingers digging into the skin of your hip, and only moved when you begged him to.

Jake pressed forward, moving slowly to give you a moment to adjust, and leaned forward to press his forehead to yours when your nails sank into his shoulder once more. “You can take it, sweets,” he encouraged, voice brittle as he sank into you. “Fuck, I know you can take it. Always so good for me.”

Each sensation felt magnified as Jake settled fully inside of you. The weight of his body pressed to yours, the warmth of his breath on your neck, the rough pads of his fingers as they stroked your hipbone to calm you as your muscles twitched with overstimulation, every ridge and vein of his cock as it stretched your walls; everything felt overwhelming in the most beautiful way possible and you couldn’t help the pleading moan that escaped as Jake shifted his hips experimentally.

With your approval, Jake began to move slowly. Each thrust was methodical, deep and searching for that spot that had you seeing stars, and you could see the tension in his jaw as he began to build a satisfying rhythm. With an experimental shift of his hips, the tip of his cock nudged a spot that drew a gasp from you and he grinned triumphantly.

“Right there?” When you moaned, unable to do more than tangle your fingers in his hair and tug him impossibly closer, Jake nipped at the curve of your jaw. “That’s it,” he encouraged, hand snaking between your bodies to rub at your aching clit. “Tell me how it feels, sweets,” he demanded, voice rough in your ear as he shifted his head just enough to catch a glimpse of your face. “Feel good?”

The shattered moan you released, keening and so desperate it made his hips stutter, wasn’t quite enough. It spurred him on, had his hips moving faster, and you cried out at the lewd sound of his hips meeting your skin. “So,” the answer was split by a broken moan, a sharp gasp as he hiked your thigh around his waist for a better angle, and Jake smirked at the way your eyes rolled back.

“So, what,” he pressed, seeking an answer that he knew you were nearly unable to give. “I need an answer, pretty girl. If I don’t get one, you don’t get to come.”

Jake’s threat wasn’t empty - he’d never left you truly hanging but he had taken a particular liking to edging, pulling you to the brink only to push you back until you gave in to his requests - and you whined at the way his hips slowed the longer you took to answer.

“So good,” you cried out, finally able to catch your breath just enough to answer. “Fuck, so good!”

He hummed, pleased by your answer, and began to pick up the pace once more as your hand returned to his hair. Though breathing was difficult enough, oxygen hard to come by even in gasps, you still dragged him in for a kiss that was more a clash of lips and teeth and tongue than a true embrace as your vision began to white around the edges.

Jake could read you better than a well-loved novel, saw the signs before you could, and pressed your hips into the mattress as he sank deeper and deeper. His thumb worked tight circles over your clit, just as desperate for you to fall over the edge as you were, and you could feel his gaze searing into your skin as you came for the third time.

The ringing of your ears nearly drowned out the sound of Jake’s groan, deep and desperate as he snapped his hips a few more times in search of his own release. Every inch of your skin felt too warm and air felt impossible to come by, but you rode out the wave with the help of Jake’s hands skating across your skin.

Jake fell to the mattress at your side, careful to remain close but keep enough distance to make you comfortable, and for a few long moments, the only noise in the room was the ragged sounds of you both attempting to catch your breath.

When you could feel your temperature returning to normal, the tingling in the tips of your fingers and toes leaving, you moved your hand just enough to grab his and intertwine your fingers. “You have such a praise kink,” you teased, still breathless and voice hoarse with use as you turned your head to find Jake already looking at you.

Instead of denying it, Jake laughed and squeezed your hand. “I want to make sure my girl feels good,” he defended, shrugging as best he could. “Somethin’ wrong with that?”

“I keep feeding your ego, but you’ve never left me wanting,” you assured him, rolling your eyes when he smirked. “So, I’m your girl now?”

It was his turn to roll his eyes as he tugged you closer. “You’ve been my girl for a while now,” he reminded you. “Nothing changes except I can tell people to fuck off if they get too close.”

With a sigh, you rested your head on his shoulder and tipped your chin just enough to meet his gaze. As his fingers brushed along the heated skin of your side, warm and threatening to lull you to sleep, you tapped his chest. “I’m yours. The jealousy thing isn’t cute. You can’t lose your shit every time I talk to someone. You’re the only one I want and you have to trust that. You have to trust me.”

“I do,” he promised, gaze softening. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t fair of me to take my fears out on you. It won’t happen again,” he assured you.

Though there were still questions to be answered and a conversation to be had, you trusted that you were on the same page. And as he brushed at your heated skin, fingers skating across your back and side, you drifted to sleep with the knowledge that you were Jake’s girl, just as you had been all along.

__________________________________________________

Author’s Note: How did we get here. My smut is rusty and I need to practice. But instead I’m working on Hangman angst. Whoops.

Taglist: @lulu-noodles, @holachicos, @getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth, @withakindheartx, @ssprayberrythings, @verin93, @totalwitch2, @malindacath, @alexparkxr, @hangmandruigandmav, @alexxavicry, @calicokel, @jaymum, @dracosluvbot, @little-wiseone, @specialk6802, @mandylove1000, @xlynnx07, @julesclues, @archetypesoflife, @oliviah-25, @benhardysdrumstick, @caatheeriinee07, @prettymucheveryothernamewastaken, @yvespoems, @chloereidwayne, @flower-name

#hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin smut #jake seresin imagine #jake hangman x reader #top gun smut #top gun one shot #top gun maverick smut #top gun maverick x reader #hangman smut #hangman imagine #top gun maverick imagine #hangman x y/n #v's fics

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awfulwriter123 · 7 months

Text

Halloween Party! (Rhea Ripley x Reader One-shot)

Hey guys! Creative idea's are flowing and this one came to mind. Gonna keep this short and sweet, Happy reading everyone!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Warning's: slightly jealous rhea, bout it

"Babe! Cmon we are going to be late!" You yelled upstairs as you had your keys and purse ready to get to Becky and Seth's Halloween party.

They had a theme set for the party which was 'Cartoon's'. Too say it kinda upset rhea would be a understatement as she didn't like being restricted to a specific theme, but after some convincing you got her too go.

"I'm coming sorry! I feel ridiculous." You heard her say as heavy footsteps came down the stairs. You both decided to go as Woody and Bow-peep from toy story, I want you to take a guess as to who was who.

"Awww c'mon babe, you look great partner!" You said with a weird voice at the end as rhea came downstairs dressed as woody, holding the cowboy hat in her hands.

She quickly looked you up and down before looking into your eyes. "That dress is too short." She said whilst crossing her arms, to which you rolled your eyes.

"It's not that short babe it's fine, stop stalling lets go and have fun." You said while holding out your hand for her to take which she did. You left while closing and locking the door behind you, taking rhea's hand again as you made your way to the car.

~Time Skip~

You guys pulled into the driveway already seeing some cars pulled in, while also seeing a car.....walk!? You squinted your eyes a bit to see it was dom dressed as Lighting McQueen and his wife dressed as Flo which made you laugh.

You looked over to rhea as you unbuckled your seatbelt to see hesitantly unbuckle hers. "Hey." You gently grabbed her hand. "It's gonna be fine, you don't look nearly as ridiculous as dom." You said while pointing out the window making her laugh a bit.

"We're gonna have a good time okay?" You said whilst pecking her cheek making her smile and nod her head. "Yeah." She said getting out of the car, still a bit hesitant but did none the less.

"Looking good cowboy!" You guys heard as you turned your heads to see priest and finn dressed as batman (priest) and robin (finn). "Shut up boy wonder!" Rhea said to finn, which got a laugh out of everyone.

"Well what are we waiting out here for? Let's go party!' Dom said wrapping his arms around priest and finn and making a beeline for the front door. You wrapped your arm around rhea's while putting her hat on her head, getting a low grumble out of her.

~Time Skip~

You had a few to drink, didn't help that liv (dressed as black cat) was also giving you another after you finished one. That's where you were, drunkenly chatting with liv while rhea kept a watchful eye while drinking her water.

"Look stressed woody, something on your mine?" She heard from her left as Seth approached with Roux in his arms, dressed as Mr incredible and Jack-Jack.

"I'm alright mate, where's Miss incredible?" She said while turning her gaze back to you and liv as look scooted a bit closer to you in her drunken state.

"Ah chilling with Bayley and Finn in the kitchen." He said while following rhea's line of sight, seeing it lead to you and liv which caused him to smirk slightly.

"Jealous?" He ask's while leaning against the wall beside where rhea was sitting while readjusting Roux in his arms. "Not one bit." Rhea said calmly while drinking her water.

Seth knew she was lying through her teeth, but didn't say anything about it. "Well if something goes down, take it outside, don't need blood on my carpet." He lightly joke with rhea to lighten the mood.

It worked slightly as rhea chuckled and looked towards him. "Will do mate, will do." She said as he walked away, turning her gaze back toward you she saw liv put her hand on your thigh, which was a bit TOO high for rhea's liking.

She quickly put her water down, and calmly walked over to you as to not draw attention, reaching you after a few step's and putting a hand on your shoulder.

"Hey babe, you had a bit wanna head home?" She looked at you with a slightly concerned look, while you looked at her with a flushed face from how you've had to drink.

"Nope! I'm having a great time!" You basically shouted throwing your arms up getting some laughs from everyone. "Alright, I take that as a yes." Rhea said helping you up, quickly looking at liv. "Talk to you later Morgan."

She turned and walked out the house quickly saying your goodbye's as you went (and you yelling "RHEA'S GOT A SNAKE IN HER BOOT!!" drunkenly), gently helping you into the passenger seat and helping you buckle up, getting in the drivers seat to take you home.

You looked over at her halfway through the drive while giggling quietly. "You were jealous~" You said with a sing song voice, as rhea quickly looked at you before turning her attention back to the road.

"Maybe." She said whilst shrugging her shoulder's, placing her hand on your thigh where liv placed hers and looking at you since you were at a red light. "Too bad she doesn't know how to pleasure you with these" She did her signature wave, wiggling her fingers at you. "Like i do."

Your face blushed red more, which you didn't think was possible in your drunken state. You quickly turned your head to look out the window as rhea turned hers back to face the road and keep driving.

You said under your breath. "Jerk." "What was that?" She said while looking at you out of the corner of her eye. "Nothing Mami." You said quietly while twiddling your thumbs now. "That's what i thought." She said while putting her eyes back on the road.

#rhea ripley x reader #rhea x reader #rhea ripley imagine #rhea ripley #the judgement day #damian priest #dominik mysterio #finn balor #seth rollins

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lilacmingi · 6 months

Text

THE GOAT

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works

Pairing: Hongjoong x fem reader, Mingi x fem reader

Word count: 4,790

Note: I’m doing something new with this little series. Each part will have two imagines based on the duos from the Bouncy music video, so you guys are getting TWO imagines in one :D

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐉𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐆 | 홍중

Hongjoong released a long sigh, staring through the telescope he held between his glove-clad hands.

"Tired?" You questioned.

He scoffed. "No."

"Liar."

"I'm used to staying up late. You should know this by now."

"Yeah, yeah." You waved a dismissive hand, repositioning yourself on the raised platform Hongjoong sat upon, fixing your gaze on the city below. "How many nights are we going to spend keeping watch out here like this?"

"Until we get the signal."

"The signal." You muttered through a sigh of exasperation. "And when will we be getting that?"

"Don't know." Hongjoong pushed the telescope closed and set it aside.

You leaned back, resting on your palms while gazing out at the nighttime cityscape lit up with vibrant neon hues from the different signs displayed on buildings. The streets were empty, completely vacant and void of any civilians. This place you called your temporary home was practically a ghost town. Despite the people here being away from the government's control, they all seemed to prefer to move quietly throughout to city so as not to draw any attention to themselves.

The sound of a motorcycle revving loudly echoed somewhere in the distance.

Well, except some people.

Hongjoong chuckled softly. "That must be Seonghwa."

"Must be. What is he doing anyway?"

"Riding around with his new motorcycle gang I suppose."

"That doesn't seem like something that pertains to the plan."

"No, but who says we can't have a little fun while we wait to put the plan in motion? He grinned.

"Yeah. You have a point."

"Plus, we're just regular civilians going about our daily lives. Isn't that right?"

"Right."

Hongjoong adjusted the hat on his head, pushing it back enough to where he could look up at the stars. His cowboy attire was a bit ridiculous, but it was his disguise and unfortunately yours as well. All the boys were staying in separate hideouts around the city. You, Hongjoong, and Mingi were located in a part of the city that had a more western feel to it and in order to blend in, you had to dress the part. Not only that, but the boys were wanted for their crimes against the government and they needed to keep a low profile, lest they get captured by the android guardians.

"Mingi's face is plastered all over the city." You commented, recalling the numerous sketches of him you had seen stuck to nearly every building.

"I know."

"You don't think our cover is gonna get blown?"

"No. There have been plenty of times we've almost been caught in the past, but we always make it out."

He had a point. All of them were uncannily lucky when it came to escaping the clutches of the android guardians. Yes, Yeosang got captured once, but he was brought back completely unscathed with his emotions still intact. That was a miracle in and of itself. There wasn't a day that went by where the boys weren't thankful for all eight of them being safe.

"At this point, what are we even watching for? Nothing has happened in Prestige Academy for months."

"We're not watching for anything. We're just keeping an eye on them."

You hummed and nodded, your fingers mindlessly fiddling with the fringe on your vest.

"Do you ever miss home?" You questioned, eyes locked on the dreary slate gray city of Strictland far in the distance—a reminder of how vastly dissimilar this world was from the one you grew up in.

Hongjoong pursed his lips in thought.

"Not really. Our lives weren't exactly perfect and it seemed like none of us had a purpose. The group broke apart and everyone was dealing with their own issues. Here, we have a purpose and whatever problems we had back home are insignificant now, especially compared to the threat we're facing here." There was a brief pause before he added, "What about you?"

"Do I miss home?" You questioned.

He nodded.

"No, but sometimes yes. Back in our world, I felt stuck I guess. I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life and I felt like I was being held back. If you can believe it, I feel more free here, even with all the rules the government is trying to enforce."

Hongjoong chuckled softly. "I get what you mean."

"When we first started this journey together, I was terrified. I didn't think I had it in me to make such daring moves, but now I want to do thrilling things like infiltrating an academy, but I do sometimes miss the normality of my old life. I miss hanging out with you guys in that old tin building."

"I do too." Hongjoong smiled fondly, turning to you. "But it's like I said earlier, who says we can't have a little fun? This dystopian world may be bleak, but we can still take it easy and have moments of normalcy."

The light from the large neon sign reading The Goat shone along his face, highlighting his side profile as he looked at you. It was a heavenly sight and one that had your heart thumping wildly with adoration.

You felt strongly about Hongjoong and had been quietly swooning over him for a long time now. Unfortunately, with all of the chaos constantly going on around you, there was no possibility of confessing. However, in this moment of vulnerability, you found yourself uttering something you normally wouldn't say.

"I'm glad I'm here with you."

Hongjoong's head lifted at your words. Now that he was looking at you, his eyes studying your face, you got nervous.

"Sorry." You murmured an apology, fiddling with the fringe of your vest again. "It's just that... well, you mean a lot to me and if we hadn't gone on this rollercoaster of a journey together and I stayed at our old home I'd probably be miserable. What I'm trying to say is that I'm thankful that we stuck together."

His gaze softened, a gentle smile gracing his pretty lips.

"I feel the same way."

A beat passed and Hongjoong scooted closer, it was unnoticed by you, as you'd turned your gaze back to the neon dotted cityscape ahead, staring out at the nighttime scene. His lips pressed together in momentary contemplation while his fingers fidgeted with the chains attached to his black leather gloves.

Hongjoong was a smart man, but your words caused him some confusion. Was that a confession? A subtle way to declare your feelings without saying it outright? Maybe you were just showing him appreciation for your companionship—or maybe you were hinting that you wanted something more. He hoped it was the latter.

There was only one way to find out.

He had taken on the android guardians multiple times, broke into a museum to steal the Cromer, snuck around Strictland to set up speakers, and now he was planning to infiltrate Prestige Academy to save as many students as possible, which would be one of their biggest and riskiest plans ever. Confessing is nothing compared to that. It should be a piece of cake. Keyword should.

Swallowing his pride and pushing away his nerves, he leaned over towards you, the movement grabbing your attention. Seeing how close he was made you tense up, but you didn't make any efforts to move away. Truthfully, you didn't want to.

His eyes were a little wider than usual, hesitancy swimming in his brown irises. The reason for that reluctance, you didn't know.

"Hongjoong?" Your voice came out much quieter than you intended. "What's happening?"

"I'm about to kiss you."

There was a brief pause of silence as your brain processed what he had just said. The only word that managed to come out of your mouth in response was,

"Okay."

You hardly had time to internally cringe at your lame response as Hongjoong's lips made contact with yours, promptly silencing your thoughts. Their softness alone had your mind turning to mush, your eyelids sliding closed as you practically melted into him. His gloved hand moved to cradle the side of your face while your hands relocated from your lap to the nape of his neck to keep him held close, hoping that this moment would last long enough for you to believe it wasn't a dream. His kisses were so delicate and slow. It felt like he was pouring all of his emotions into it, conveying just how much you meant to him with each gentle press of his lips.

Only a few moments passed before Hongjoong's kisses became a little more heated as he picked up the pace, moving his lips with more urgency. He even nipped at your bottom lip a couple times, earning a quiet squeak of surprise from you. You were thankful to be sitting down or else your knees would have given out on the spot. He chuckled lowly against your lips, amused by your reaction. His sultry laugh made your heart thump rapidly, your hands tightening into fists.

It wasn't long before your hands moved to his hat, pulling it off his head and tossing it to the side somewhere so you could card your fingers through his blue locks, grabbing handfuls of it. He let out a low hum that vibrated against your lips and sent a rush of butterflies to your stomach. After a particularly dizzying kiss, you sighed out his name, your mind far too clouded to realize what you had said. Hongjoong couldn't ignore the way that lit a fire in him. He liked how you sounded and he wanted to hear it again.

At this point, keeping watch was at the back of Hongjoong's mind. All he could think about was you and how glorious it felt to be kissing you like this and what it would take for you to say his name again.

"Say my name." He sighed out between heated kisses. "Please."

You did as he asked, repeating his name in a breathless whisper, egging him on.

His hand that cupped your cheek slid around to the back of your neck, his thumb gently rubbing your nape. You suppressed a shiver as he took your bottom lip between his, encasing it in warmth.

The both of you parted ways, Hongjoong's eyes looking hazy while his tongue darted out to wet his lips that were slightly swollen from your intense make out session. It seemed impossible, but he looked even more stunning than usual.

"What was that for?" You questioned breathlessly.

"I didn't know how else to convey my feelings."

"So, instead of just confessing, you did something riskier by kissing me?" You asked amusedly.

"What can I say? I'm a man who likes to take risks." The statement was confident, but judging by the pink tinting the tips of his ears, the thought of straight up confessing hadn't crossed his mind.

"Now what?"

"Well..." Hongjoong trailed off, his hand finding yours. "We can be together and still take down Prestige."

You gave a lighthearted chuckle. "Alright then. If you think you can handle balancing a relationship and overthrowing the government."

"Please." He scoffed playfully. "I'm the captain. I can handle anything."

Hongjoong's eyes shifted slightly, moving away from your face and focusing on something in the distance.

"Someone's coming." He announced, his gaze fixed on a figure riding a delivery scooter.

You chuckled softly even though you were bummed out that the moment had ended.

Duty calls.

He scrambled for his telescope, opening it up and peering through the glass.

"We didn't order any food." You mused.

"I know."

He zeroed in on a logo stuck to the delivery scooter that read Blue Bird Delivery. A silent sigh of relief was released. As the person approached, Hongjoong began messing with the pulley system attached to the roof of the building, lowering a beat up metal bucket to the ground below.

The moped came to a stop and the rider pulled out a plastic bag, placing it in the bucket before Hongjoong raised it.

"Is that Yeosang?"

"I think so."

The driver, who you assumed to be Yeosang got back onto the scooter and took off towards his next destination.

Hongjoong removed the plastic bag, carelessly tossing it aside as he opened the styrofoam takeout container. Inside was a single Cheongyang chili pepper.

Your brows furrowed in perplexmxent, wondering why Yeosang would bring you something like that. Hongjoong removed the paper from the container and examined it briefly. Glancing around, he broke open the green chili pepper, pulling out a rolled up note that had been put inside.

"What it is?" You inquired, watching as he unraveled it.

"It's time."

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐈 | 민기

The atmosphere in the dim Chili Peppers bar was filled with the sound of low murmuring from the few patrons it housed, the occasional sound of clinking glasses or pool being played accompanied the low conversations. You pressed the corners of the wrinkled paper to the wall, hanging a new wanted poster, this one bigger than the ones that already hung there. Most of them depicted the same man while others showed images of a few other fugitives who were believed to run in the same group. The only thing that was different from the rest was that any poster that showed this particular man said DEAD OR ALIVE in large letters. You weren't exactly sure as to why this man was wanted, but you heard whispers throughout the city that he looted local businesses in the area and sometimes traveled with a group of other fugitives. Some even say he runs with the masked men in fedoras, but you're not sure—this town talks a lot.

The wooden doors of the saloon squeaked as they were pushed open by a strong force. A tall figure stepped into the establishment, all of the attention drawn to him, the chatter in the bar coming to an abrupt stop. Every patron in the saloon had their heads directed towards the stranger, their eyes following him across the room. He wore a large hat that blocked his face, keeping his head low as he approached the bar you stood behind. You took note of the large shotgun strapped to his back, not thinking too much of it, as quite a few people around here carried weapons with them.

"How can I help you?" You asked, leaning on the wooden bar top.

"Why else do you think I came to this bar?" The man responded, his voice low and incredibly deep.

"Not everybody comes into this bar to drink, you know."

"Soju." He responded, taking a seat on one of the stools.

Reaching underneath the bar, you grabbed a shot glass and a cold bottle of soju from the mini fridge. Cracking open the alcohol, you poured the clear liquid into a shot glass, sliding it over to the man. His gloved hand reached out and lifted the shot to his lips, downing it just as quickly as you had poured it. He slammed the glass down onto the counter with his head hanging low. It was only when he raised his head that you got a clear look at his face.

First, you noticed his strikingly handsome features, then instant recognition. This was the man from the wanted poster.

You opened your mouth to speak, but your voice was stuck in your throat as he stood up, pulling his long, leather coat back to flash the gun sitting in a holster on his hip.

"When I turn around, duck under the bar." He instructed lowly.

What? Is what you wanted to say, but you didn't have time as he spun around, pulling the gun out.

You dropped to the floor and covered your head as the sound of gunshots rang out above you, some stray bullets hitting the bottles of alcohol displayed behind the counter, the shattered glass falling onto you, liquor splashing onto the wooden boards of the floor.

You didn't even have time to consider wether you trusted this stranger or not, yet you did exactly as he said without a second thought. Then again, it was the only thing you knew to do when you saw him draw his weapon.

A thump sounded from above you, the noise drawing your attention. The man now stood on the bar holding the shotgun that was previously strapped to his back, firing the weapon mercilessly. Based on the heavy thuds you heard after every shot, he was good.

"Alright. It's safe. You can come out now."

Deciding to peek out from your hiding spot, you slowly stood up, peering over the bar top. Bodies littered the floor, tables were overturned, and shell casings were scattered everywhere. Your eyes were blown wide in surprise as you took in the scene before you. The stranger hopped down off the bar, landing behind the counter with you. You unconsciously took a step back, still wary of the man.

"Who are you?" You asked in a shaky voice, rattled by the experience you just had.

"Mingi."

When you didn't respond, he held his hands up in a placating manner to show he wasn't a threat.

"I won't hurt you. I'm a good guy."

Still skeptical, you studied him for a moment, your eyes scanning his sharp features for any signs of dishonesty.

"I saved you." He added.

"Saved me?"

"Yes. Everyone in this bar was working for the government."

Your expression shifted upon hearing that.

"Strictland is getting tougher on enforcing their rules and regulations. They were going to bring you in and have your emotions taken away."

"What?"

You couldn't believe what you were hearing, shaking your head in denial.

"That's not possible. This is the outskirts of the city. The government has no control here."

"They're trying to."

Mingi could see your breathing start to quicken, a look of fear crossing your features.

"What do I do?"

"You come with me."

"But I don't know you."

"Have you ever heard of The Black Pirates?"

"No."

"They're a group of people who are rebelling against the government and trying to undo what Strictland has tried to enforce. Me and my friends work with them."

So that's why his picture is all over the city. Those other wanted posters are probably the friends he mentioned.

"Trust me, it's best if you listen and come with me." He added.

After taking a few seconds to think it over, you caved and agreed to go with Mingi. It seemed to be your best and only option.

"Smart girl." He commented. "Follow me."

Taking a final glance at the bar that was in complete disarray, you turned your back and followed Mingi out of the establishment. There was something sad about walking out of that dingy bar. It felt like you were leaving a part of you behind. Chili Peppers was a place you had spent a year working at and met many different people. You were well-acquainted with the regulars and enjoyed catching up with them when they came in. It was a fun job and one that had marked a new start of your life, so walking away from it broke your heart.

"Can I go back?" You asked.

"Probably not. You'll need to lay low."

"Right."

Unable to look at the bar any longer, you dropped your head and moved forward, rounding the corner of the building. It was only when Mingi came to a stop that you lifted your head.

He stood before the side of the Chili Peppers bar, staring at the multiple wanted posters depicting a sketch of his face that were plastered along the siding. Painted in harsh and aggressive black streaks across the posters was a giant Z. Mingi rolled his eyes, letting out an annoyed huff.

"So freaking persistent." He muttered under his breath.

"What's that?" You inquired.

His tongue poked the inside of his cheek in agitation. "He's the one in control of everything going on in Strictland."

You pressed your lips together as a bitter taste invaded your mouth. "I see."

Mingi turned to look at your expression, seeing the discomfort that flashed across your features as unwanted memories more than likely invaded your mind. It was clear to him that you felt ill will against Z.

"We all hate him." Mingi spoke up, hoping to ease your mind a bit. "That's why my friends are here. To get rid of all these rules and laws. This world is... wrong."

"I used to live in Strictland." You spoke up after a moment of silence. "I had to watch my friends turn into emotionless zombies. The android guardians tried to get me, but I fled. That's how I ended up here in the outskirts of the city. I felt safe... until now."

Mingi frowned upon hearing your story. Z and his twisted way of thinking has ruined so many lives. Your story was just a reminder of why he and his friends constantly put themselves in the line of danger and why they needed to continue doing so.

They wouldn't stop until this world was saved.

Your feet dragged through the dirt that lined the streets of the city, your eyes cast downward to stare at your shoes as they kicked up tiny puffs of dust.

"So, where are you taking me?"

"My hideout."

"And where is that?"

"Rooftop of The Goat."

"Rooftops aren't very secretive."

Mingi chuckled softly. "No, but it's the perfect spot to keep watch. My friends and I split off into groups of two so it would be harder for us to be tracked down and possibly caught if the android guardians decide to infiltrate this temporary safe haven. I've been staying in this part of town for a while."

"I heard about a group of people displaying acts of rebellion against Strictland's government and they've never been caught. It seems like they slip away in the nick of time every single time." You paused for a moment. "That was you and your friends, wasn't it?"

Mingi gave a nod.

A short walk through the dusty streets led you to the building with the giant neon sign reading: The Goat shining brightly at the rooftop, the word entrance accompanying the name of the building. It was then that you realized there were no doors.

"Come on." Mingi beckoned, climbing up a set of rickety metal stairs that lined the side of dilapidated building.

With each step, the stairs rattled softly and you hoped they would stay together long enough for you to reach the top.

"Hongjoong." Mingi announced, using his knuckles to knock lightly on a metal pipe as the both of you emerged on the rooftop.

"Oh, Mingi. Hi." A man with vibrant blue hair and cowboy attire greeted while peering through a telescope.

"Any news?"

"Not at all." The man who you assumed was Hongjoong lowered the telescope and pushed it together into its compact form before setting it aside. When he finally turned to look at Mingi, his eyes landed on you.

"Who's this?"

"You know I told you I was going to Chili Peppers to take care of some business?"

"Yeah."

"Everyone sitting in that bar tonight was working for the government. Y/n was the bartender and the only one there with her emotions in tact. They were going to bring her in and brainwash her."

"The government has no jurisdiction here."

"They don't seem to care. You know Z is going to try and get his way no matter what."

"Great." Muttered Hongjoong. "Just what we needed."

Mingi removed his hat and let out a sigh, running his fingers through his short, choppily-cut pink hair.

"This is bad." He said to Hongjoong.

Meanwhile you were left to watch the tense exchange between the two, a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. These two and their friends were the only people who could undo all of the damage Z has done to Strictland and here they are, visibly distraught.

"We still have the raid on Prestige." Hongjoong mentioned, making your ears perk up.

"Right." Mingi nodded. "That'll surely light a fire under Z. He won't see it coming."

Hongjoong peered into the distance, presumably where Prestige Academy sat.

"It's just a matter of time." He murmured.

"What's going on with Prestige?" You inquired, too curious to keep your mouth shut.

"We're going to sneak in and break everyone out of their trances. We've got an elaborate plan in place, we're just waiting to put it into motion." Mingi explained.

The government of Strictland was very powerful and this group of, you weren't sure how many people, are out here making big moves in order to save humanity. You commend them for their bravery but at the same time you wondered how someone could be so brave.

"I can't believe you guys do stuff like this."

"We have to. It's what we're here for." Mingi told you, his eyes holding a tsunami of emotions: commitment, determination, perhaps even a hint of fear.

"I'll leave you two alone." Hongjoong spoke up. "If you need me, I'll be downstairs."

With that, he stood up and entered a door that you assumed led to the inside of the building, leaving the rooftop so you and Mingi could converse in private.

"Have a seat." The pink-haired male gestured to a raised platform resembling the front of a ship with two telescopes set up on it.

He stepped up on the platform, offering you a gloved hand to grab onto, which you did and allowed him to assist you onto the raised surface.

He set his hat aside and took a seat, his long legs hanging off the side of the platform. You followed suit and made yourself comfortable beside him, resting your arms on the metal bar of the railing that lined the ship-like structure.

"So, what's your story?" You asked, gently swinging your legs back and forth.

Mingi's captivating lips stuck out in though while his eyes focused on the buildings in the distance.

"I guess I should start from the beginning."

And so he did. From being brought here by the Cromer to taking the places of the masked men in fedoras and saving Strictland. You stayed silent the whole time and let him speak without interrupting. When he finally finished, a heavy and lengthy silence hung in the night air.

"So, you're not from this world." You said it like a statement.

"No."

"And you agreed to take the place of the men in fedoras just like that?"

"Yes. There's no way we can go back to our old world, especially knowing this one needs saving."

An overwhelming rush of admiration swelled in your chest, as did your respect for Mingi, if that was even possible.

"You and your friends are so brave."

He huffed out a light chuckle. "Yeah, I guess we are. It's weird. When we were told we would have to step up, we did. We did it without thinking."

"Do you ever get scared?"

"A lot. There have been times where I worry our plans won't work or one of my friends is about to get caught. I'm afraid one day, we won't be so lucky."

"If you need an extra person on your team, I'm willing to step up."

Mingi's brows raised, his sharp eyes becoming rounder in surprise.

"I'm not sure what I can do, but I'm willing to help however I can." You added.

"Are you sure?"

Yes, Mingi had just met you but he felt somewhat protective of you and there was a small part of him that couldn't see you get hurt or captured by the android guardians.

"Yes I'm sure." You were adamant in your decision. "I lost the only friends I had to that dictator. He stripped them of their emotions."

Mingi's eyes met yours, serious and searching for more confirmation even though he could see it clearly on your face—there was no changing your mind.

"We need all the help we can get, but it won't be easy." He told you.

"Whatever you need me to do, I'll do it. I'm up for whatever Strictland has to throw at me."

"Very well."

About that time, Hongjoong emerged onto the rooftop with a large sheet of rolled up paper in his hand that you presumed was a blueprint.

"Joong, we've got a new recruit." Mingi informed him.

"Is that so?"

You nodded in confirmation.

"What do you say we fill her in on the plans to invade Prestige?"

"I'm way ahead of you." Hongjoong wiggled the blueprint in his hand, bringing it over to spread it along the ground, revealing a grand plan. "Let's begin."

Seonghwa & Yeosang ⟡ Yunho & Jongho ⟡ San & Wooyoung

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Masterlist ᝰ — enjoyed this imagine? reblogs & comments are very much appreciated!

DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

#ateez imagines #hongjoong #hongjoong imagines #hongjoong x reader #mingi #song mingi #mingi x reader #mingi imagines #ateez lore #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #hongjoong x you #hongjoong x y/n #mingi x you #mingi x y/n #kim hongjoong #ateez lore au #ateez outlaw #ateez outlaw au

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angel-blitz · 2 months

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Fanfic below about Rudy enjoying his time at the store while shorty beats up spikey🩷

Rudy and Shorty had ransacked yet another convenience store, this time with Spikey unfortunately tagging along much to Rudy and Shortys annoyance.

The sight of three grotesque clowns left the human cashier cowering behind the counter, a flirty grin from Spikey causing her to dash out of the store with a horrified scream.

The three klowns wandered around, tossing products onto the floor after observing them, and making a large mess like always.

Rudy was preoccupied in the freezer section, drawing shapes on the fogged up glass doors with his finger. Meanwhile Shorty was in the snack aisle, giggling as he stomped on a closed chip bag, causing it to pop and make Spikey squeal in surprise.

"You little- don't do that!" Spikey screeched, picking up a nearby bag of candy and throwing it at Shortys head.

Shorty grumbled, grabbing the same bag and chucking it right at Spikey's head in return. The two immediately broke out into a food fight, leaving Rudy to scoff at their antics in the opposite aisle.

Rudy wandered through an aisle full of mostly cheap novelty items and bootleg toys, before stopping in front of a rack of children's cowboy hats. Curious, he tilted his head, picking up one of the hats.

He glanced back over at the other aisle, rolling his eyes at the sight of Shorty climbing up Spikey like a pole and gnawing at his face.

Spikey attempted to smack him off, but slipped on a discarded chip bag in the process, causing him and shorty to crash into the aisle shelf and completely knock it over.

Rudy groaned, turning his attention back over to the cowboy hat. He held onto it as he wandered into the next aisle stocked with Health and beauty products.

Spotting a small handheld mirror, Rudy picked it up with one hand, placing the hat on his head with the other. After adjusting it, he giggled at how silly it looked on him, and settled on taking the hat with him to the ship.

"Get off of me you little- RUDY! get him off, he's gonna ruin my hair!" Spikey yelled, smacking shorty with a rolled up magazine he found nearby.

"It was ruined to began with..." Shorty snickered, stopping his attack to tease Spikey.

Spikey launched Shorty to the other side of the store, quickly running over to crouch near Rudy. He looked over at the red headed klown, before snorting.

"You look ridiculous. There's no way Jumbo's gonna let you walk around with that on, pinhead"

Rudy shrugged, taking the hat off and smiling down at it. "He won't mind. I really like it, I think it looks good"

Spikey rolled his eyes. "Whatever...you little freak-"

Suddenly Spikey was tackled to the ground by Shorty, who proceeded to whack him across the face with a fly swatter.

"Leave! Him! Alone! He! Looks! Great!" Shorty shouted with each swat in defense of Rudy.

"Thanks, Shorty. Do you want one too? This one's pink and fluffy" Rudy smiled, handing shorty a small cheap cowgirl hat.

"YEAH- gimme gimme gimme!" Shorty grinned, snatching the hat and putting it crookedly on his head.

Spikey took the chance while Shorty was distracted to scoot away, glaring at the two klowns.

"You...you FIEND! I'm telling Jojo!" Spikey complained, jumping to his feet and dashing outside the store.

"He's not gonna wanna go shopping with us ever again, is he?" Rudy said, holding Shortys hand as the two walked out of the store.

"Nope! Why else do you think I was beating him up?" Shorty grinned, watching as Spikey tripped and fell face first into a bush in the park across the road with a yell.

"Let's hit one of those, uh...what's it called....'gas stations' next time. Bibbo said they have something called a 'slushie machine', whatever that is" Rudy said, adjusting his cowboy hat.

"Yeah! I don't know what that is, but it sounds fun!" Shorty smirked, the two walking across the road to the park.

#kkfos #killer klowns from outer space #this can be seen as rudy x shorty or as friends i dont mind

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cometcon · 7 months

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I uh... I did it again. XD My brain has been going brrrr over this fucking GORGEOUS artwork by @zunkome2 on Xitter (click the view on Twitter button to see their art) and it inspired me to write fanfic of it. I love this art so fucking much!!!! I hope I can keep practicing and be as good as them one day. :D

So yeah, I could not stop thinking about this and I love that Blitz is canonically such a horse-girl, and I can totally see Striker realising and using that to his advantage in trying to draw Blitz in and hopefully get him on his side.

Anyway, my brain decided it was time to take like 5 hours of my day on and off making me try to write this to the best of my current ability. Enjoy. XD

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

Blitz was in Heaven.

An ironic descriptor, considering their actual location, but picking a better one would have been impossible right then; especially with a hellhorse nuzzling his chest ever so gently in search of another rawhide strip. Her mouth may have appeared vicious - and technically yes, that Lovecraftian maw was capable of crushing flesh and bone to mush in a single bite - but the non-business parts were also far softer to the touch than anyone less familiar with the creatures might expect.

"Sorry. I'm all out," he murmured regretfully, giving the beautiful beast a scratch on her forehead as she shoved her muzzle into his other hand. He had to take a small step backward however when she suddenly whipped her head up and to the side with a greeting whinny. Strange. What was that abou-

"Lot of others would've lost a limb for that." The unexpected voice made Blitz tense, tail shooting straight out behind him in surprise before curling tightly, an embarrassed flush rising to his cheeks. He peered around the hellhorse's neck, praying his mortification wouldn't be obvious to the cowboy now leaning against his mount's side. How the fuck had he arrived without him noticing? Striker plucked the wheat stalk from between his teeth and smirked. "She likes you."

Blitz coughed awkwardly and began backing away, mind and mouth both rapidly trying and failing to come up with a believable excuse for his actions. "I was just- uh… I was looking for… We had them at the circus, see, and I thought maybe- Strips are really good for their teeth, you kn- I mean of course you'd know that! I just-" Striker's eyebrows had been climbing steadily higher beneath the brim of his hat the longer Blitz waffled on, and in desperation he found himself resorting to a ridiculous escape route he hadn't used since he was nine years old. "Ah, I think I hear Luna calling me! Coming Loonie!"

He skittered across the corral and clambered over the fence, cheeks burning hot as he cursed himself silently. Why had he turned into such a blathering idiot in front of the one person he'd actually hoped to impress this weekend? Blitz knew a ruthless killer when he met them and Striker was clearly I.M.P material. After a pathetic show like that though, there was no way he would want to-

The ground under his boots had begun to vibrate while he fumed, faintly at first, then increasing to a thundering roll. He instinctively darted to the side and kept walking, expecting whoever it was to just barrel past him at the reckless speed they seemed to be going. But his path was abruptly cut off by a fiery grey mass, Striker expertly bringing his mount from full canter to a standstill in a cloud of dust. He swung her around to stand side-on so he could look down at the choking imp, that shit-eating grin Blitz was quickly becoming familiar with exposing a gleaming gold fang to the sunlight.

"Pretty sure your hound went bean-pickin' with the rest an hour ago," Striker commented, leaning forward to rest an arm on the pommel, free hand tapping his thigh absentmindedly, "Since you got so much free time to burn, how 'bout you come help me check the fences? Got a few posts loose on the South end thanks to that pesky varg pack last night." The hellhorse shuffled under him, pawing at the dirt and snapping her jaws a little at the mention of vargs. "Bombproof wouldn't mind catching a few either, I bet. Maybe you'll get to see her on the hunt."

"Oh, uh…" Perhaps he hadn't completely blown his chances after all? Striker certainly wasn't behaving like he thought Blitz a dithering moron, literally chasing him down to offer another opportunity to spend more time together and bond with Bombproof. What an incredible name for a hellhorse… No, focus! He could salvage this. He just had to pull himself together and show what a great prospect his group would be compared to farm work in the boonies. Preferably without turning into a rambling mess this time. He forced a nonchalant shrug. "Sure, why not?"

Striker slipped his boot free of the stirrup, hand extending in clear invitation. Blitz's brain stuttered, immediately dropping every part of his own peptalk as it dawned on him what the other had actually meant.

"What, you plannin' on walkin' there? It's miles of Wrath terrain. C'mon Blitz, I don't bite," Striker drawled, head tilting as his eyes took on a knowing glint, "Unless you ask nicely."

Well that decided it. Blitz was reaching for the proffered hand before he could second-guess himself, so caught up in his whirling thoughts Striker had to correct which foot the distracted imp tried mounting with. Blitz didn't have long to stew in his humiliation at least, preoccupied by the ease of how he was hauled into the saddle, hands directed to grip the pommel while the taller demon reached around him to grasp the reins. Striker nudged his leg out of the way, retaking the stirrup and leaving Blitz to squeeze Bombproof's sides tightly with his thighs as she responded to her rider. A moment later they were galloping down the driveway, wind whipping past their faces and her powerful form surging below them.

Blitz was wrong. His time in the corral had been a beautiful experience, but still only comparable to Earth at best.

Now he was in Heaven.

And he never wanted to fall.

#helluva boss #striker helluva boss #helluva boss blitz #blitzø #striker x blitz helluva boss #striker x blitz #blitz x striker #striker x blitzo #blitzo x striker #blitzstrike #fanfic #my writing #i haven't written blitz before so sorry if i haven't quite grasped his voice and speech patterns yet #i'll work on it

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zee-has-commitment-issues · 10 months

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Hi, so I wrote a little fic, and I posted it. I gave it to Dani, she laughed at it, I asked if I should edit it, she said "fuck it we ball"

The entire fic will be below the cut because it's short enough to post here, but if you'd like to leave comments or kudos, it is also posted on my AO3. It's only 1k words.

Dress Up As...

This is the stupidest party they have ever thrown. They know that.

This was the stupidest party they had ever thrown, and they all knew it. No one was sure whose idea it had originally been, and no one was quite brave enough to own up to it. But it was their last party at Hillerska — their last third years’ party — and it seemed like a pity to go out without throwing at least one entirely stupid blowout.

The theme was truly very simple: Dress Up Like…

Throughout the entire week before, each third year had one at a time drawn a card out of a hat to find out what or who they would be dressing up as for the party. Every person had a different theme. No one should or would be dressed for the same party. In theory, that’s what made it fun.

What made it decidedly not fun was the fact that no one was allowed to redraw their theme. Once the card was in their hand, they could not switch with anyone or draw a second theme. That factor made the whole thing more than a little stressful. Because not everyone had the clothes they needed just lying around. Some of them had even resorted to stealing from First Years just to complete their looks.

But now it was the night of the party, and one by one they started to trickle in, costumes ready and on full display.

Some were better than others.

Henry wore a black tank top and bright green basketball shorts, chunky sneakers and a backward baseball cap. The entire night, he carried around a can of beer and would randomly start shouting about his human rights. Dress Up Like… An American.

Walter, his ever present counterpart, looked truly ridiculous. More so than usual. He showed up in short-shorts and a crop top, an LED flower crown sitting pretty atop his head. He had a mesh shawl overtop that went farther down than his pants did, and somehow he had managed to find what could only be described as cowboy boots. Dress Up Like… A Pinterest Girlie.

Stella wore a baby pink nightgown with a fairy pattern and clearly not matching blue bunny slippers. She had her hair tied up into pigtails and she was carrying around a worn-in looking stuffed bear. She was drinking her alcohol through a sippy-cup and every once in a while switched to suck on a lollipop. Dress Up Like… A Five-Year-Old.

Fredrika had it (arguably) the easiest out of all of them. She was quite literally wearing a bedsheet that she’d pinned into a toga and some sandals she’d managed to find on short notice. She’d gone the extra step to make herself a wreath for her hair, but pretty much everyone was mad at her for her lucky draw. Dress Up Like… An Ancient Roman.

Alexander had somehow gotten his hands on neon spandex. He went all out for his costume, even finding someone to give him a perm. There was a neon sweatband on his head that had “mysteriously” gone missing from the locker room a week ago. He’d completed his look with sunglasses that were too big for his face and Henry’s orange wrist-watch. Dress Up Like.. The 80s.

Madison wore a muscle tank and tight biker shorts. She was carrying around a big bin of vanilla protein powder and every time someone asked her a question she would respond with “do you even lift, bro?” She’d gone as far as to draw on faint mustache hairs and no one was actually sure if she was kidding about having bought into cryptocurrency as a way to commit to the bit. Dress Up Like… A Gym Bro.

Sara had spent all week stressing about her costume, only to give in and ask Henry if she could borrow his tuxedo. The one she knew he had just lying around because it was Henry, and of course he had a tuxedo lying around. She’d stolen a ring box from Simon to keep in her pocket, as well, and she had found a top hat somewhere in their mother’s box of old Halloween costumes. Dress Up Like… A Groom.

It was a lucky coincidence that Felice was her counterpart in all of that. They looked ridiculous, but at least they looked ridiculous together. Felice had taken the time to go to the thrift store in Bjärstad for her costume, though. Not even the students of Hillerska had wedding dresses lying around. She was able to find one for relatively cheap, too, and it had come with a veil. The dress was nice if you pretended it wasn’t from the 70s and ignored the suspicious stain. Sara had gotten her a bouquet to really sell the look. Dress Up Like… A Bride.

Wilhelm had borrowed his entire outfit from Felice. It was a blue dress and some gold jewelry. Nothing too scandalous, though he was still sure Jan-Olof’s heart would fail if he saw it. They still hadn’t told him about Wille piercing his ears yet. Wilhelm had opted to wear his own shoes for the night, as much as Felice begged him to try out high heels. He’d promised her he’d try another time when he wouldn’t have to commit to an entire night in them whilst slightly drunk. Dress Up Like… Your Best Friend.

It was Simon that truly caught everyone’s eye, though. With the exception of a long coat and scarf that they knew wasn’t his, he looked like he wasn’t dressed up at all. Everything he wore was seemingly something he wore every day. A sweatshirt and jeans, converse and a silver chain hanging around his neck.

“Oh, come on, Simon! You could have at least tried,” Fredrika called out, somehow already tipsy despite the party having just started.

“I’m dressed up,” Simon said. He shrugged off the coat and scarf before depositing himself in Wilhelm’s lap.

It was an obvious lie.

“Simon, you wear that all the time,” Henry pointed out.

Simon nodded, running his fingers through the hairs on the back of Wille’s head. “Yes, I do, and I’m still dressed up.”

Wilhelm looked like the cat who caught the canary and, most of the time, the rest of them would take that as a clue to just accept Simon’s words as truth and move on. But not tonight. No, they had all made asses of themselves trying to commit to this stupid ass party plan and they would be damned if Simon ruined it. They would force him to go home and change if they had to. They’d drag him by the ear back to Bjärstad and stand guard until he emerged looking just as idiotic as the rest of them.

“I would bet all the money in my wallet that you are not dressed up properly,” Walter said. It would have been a serious threat, too, had he not looked so ridiculous.

“Are you sure about that?” Simon asked, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“I’d like to join in this bet!” Maddie declared, pulling her wallet out of her waistband. And, soon, they were all betting some kind of money on the fact that Simon had not properly committed to their stupid plan.

Wilhelm didn’t say a word. He just sat back with a smug look on his face as Simon got all of his friends to bet him a small fortune. He, of course, knew what Simon was supposed to be dressed up as. He, of course, knew Simon was about to be several thousand kronor richer.

When everyone had placed their bets on the table, his own sister included, Simon pulled his card out of the coat he’d earlier discarded. He knew they were going to challenge him on his costume. He’d come prepared for this.

He cleared his throat, sitting up straighter, though it was difficult with Wilhelm’s arms wrapped tightly around his stomach. “Everything I’m wearing — boxers included — is something Wilhelm has, at some point, stolen from me,” he announced. He threw his card down on top of the make-shift money pot and then leaned back into his boyfriend with a satisfied smirk. “Read it and weep, bitches.”

Dress Up As… Royalty.

#young royals #young royals fanfiction #young royals fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #wilmon fanfic #zee writes shit

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midnightfire830 · 8 months

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I’m sick today so imma share a few band AU idea blerps:

Black Hat got really controlling over the band especially over costuming, makeup, and maybe a few of their songs. He absolutely hated the members wearing ridiculous costumes and extravagant makeup.

So of course Cuphead doubles down. Cuphead and Bendy made a western album consisting of bendy playing acoustic guitar and Cuphead playing piano. (I put a couple songs I had in mind for that album tho its mostly based off of Poor Man’s Poison). And when they went to perform it live Cuphead asked Alice to make him the most over the top cowboy costume.

Stars, of course this just made me think of Ken and Barbie’s cowboy outfits from the movie.

Alice: So you want me to completely redesign your costume for the performance? *sighs* ok what do you want?

Cuphead: PINK.

Cup the night of the show walked out of the dressing room with this hot pink cowboy costume and full makeup. The rest of the band also wore accents of pink somewhere in their costumes but Cuphead went waaaaaaayyyyy overboard.

Cuphead: strikes a pose “So Hat! What do ya think?”

Black Hat: “I THINK I’m not being paid NEARLY enough for this…”

Of course the moment that Cup walked out the crowd went cussing WILD. Alice and Cala were standing off stage and watching cussing proud of what they did. That tour turned out to be one of their best selling performances. (I’m so half debating drawing this dear god….)

It’s safe to say that it definitely taught Hat to back the cuss off.

Yes I made a playlist for this au. I’ve made like cussing 3 at this point. Fight me.

Okie. Thanks for coming to my TEDtalk

✌️

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malamiteltd · 6 months

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Pan (Leppicorn)

Felt like drawing a Leppicorn today. This one's name is Pan.

She's got some flaws for sure. She doesn't have enough hair on her head to cover both her eyes, and her antlers are very stubby. What's more, she's very clumsy, so her fighting skill is practically nonexistent. Because of all this, Leppicorn like to tease and ridicule her, and it's made it hard for her to find a friend.

She does find someone willing to stay by her side...an unlikely friend, but a loving one regardless. And they're willing to protect her from harm. She feels particularly lucky to have such a friend, and as such she will do anything she can for him.

Bonus:

An alternate version of the image, where she is wearing a cowboy hat that her friend gave her as a gift. Her friend thinks it's a cute fit.

If she's not careful and lets the hat get pressed too hard on her head, it could go over her eyes and she'll be unable to see. Usually at that point It's a struggle for her to pull the hat off.

#leppicorn #malamite #pan the leppicorn #the esper woods #jackalope

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dilf-din · 9 months

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Yeehawgust Day 20: Rodeo Clown

The Last of Us (western AU)

WC: 630

Character: Tommy Miller

Rating: T

Warnings: light language

A/N: I’m in love with Tommy Miller and his essence. That’s it.

It wasn’t often that Tommy Miller felt like he was in over his head. Not when he became an uncle before graduating high school. Not when he enlisted at eighteen. Not even when he asked Jessica Reyes to prom when he was a sophomore and she was a senior. But standing in a room with no AC buckling a safety vest and pulling flowing overalls over top of it, he was staring to feel that way.

His friend Jeremiah had heard he was looking for work and offered him a quick gig with the rodeo he traveled with while it was on Tommy’s side of town.

Tommy had done all sorts of trick riding before, he figured it would be a piece of cake. It wasn’t until he showed up in his best garb that he found out he was sorely mistaken.

“I didn’t know you meant bein’ a rodeo clown,” he had hissed to Jerry as he shoved a pile of bright colored clothing into his arms and pushed him into one of the small changing rooms.

“Tom, I’ve seen you ride before. You know how these animals are. You’ll be fine,” he reassured him.

Tommy took a look in the half length mirror clouded with age and humidity. A bright orange flannel with a green kerchief tied loosely around his neck ‘neath bright blue overalls with gaudy, flowing trails of fabric coming off of every side to catch the wind when he moved and draw the bull’s attention away from the rider.

“I look ridiculous,” he tutted, crowning himself with a bright purple cowboy hat.

“Miller! You’re on in three!” he heard Jerry through the thin door.

“Here goes nothin’,” he thought to himself.

He shuffled down the narrow hallways and joined the ranks of three other men in similar garb. Some donning face paint on top of the flashy outfits. He introduced himself, trying and failing to commit their names to memory. He felt like a deer in the headlights. He didn’t even want to step foot in the arena.

He was in Desert Storm god damn it, he could face a few pissed off steers. He cracked his neck and exhaled, trying to center himself. When he was signaled to go out, he sprinted into the ring, hooting and hollering to draw the bull’s attention to him and allowing the challenger a chance to escape, hopping the fence with ease. He did a little dance, shaking his butt in the animal’s direction causing the crowd to erupt with laughter.

The bull charged him head on. He toyed with it for a few moments, switching directions and twirling the bright tails of fabric before standing stationary in front of the pen, diving out of the way at the last second and slapping it on the rear as one of the handlers swung the gate shut.

Tommy gave a dramatic bow, flipping his purple hat down and back onto his head before sauntering out of the ring.

“Nice job!” one of the men clapped him on the shoulder.

“You said this was your first time?” another asked with raised brows.

He shrugged, a smug smile on his face, “Hey, when you got it you got it.”

By the end of the night, he had become a crowd favorite with his antics and charm. His hair was pulled into tight curls from the onslaught of sweat, his cheeks reddened from running.

“Man, you were a hit!” Jeremiah exclaimed, “You sure you don’t want to come with us? We’ve got six legs left, hitting Taylor tomorrow?” he proposed with a quirk of his eyebrow.

Tommy contemplated for a moment, “Aw, hell, I’ve got nothing better to do. ‘Sides, this was the most fun I’ve had in years.”

“Welcome to the team!”

#yeehawgust #yeehawgust 2023 #the last of us #the last of us hbo #the last of us drabble #tommy miller #Tommy miller drabble #tw coulrophobia #coulrophobia

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silleeeguraistrahd · 8 months

Note

Cain trying to rizz to get on my good side after trekking mud in the house with his boots

Me stealing his cowboy hat

Us into town to buy milk or something and him getting jealous that people talk to me for more than 000.2 seconds

Him showing me around the ranch and me complaining abt the sun and the heat

"You really won't forgive a man for a little mud and dirt?"

0.1

"No, and those are practically the same things." You replied cooly, taking the edge of the glass to your lips as you sipped on the languid liquid of wine that was held in it.

"Really now? Nothing at all? What about- a ride out?" He gives you a wider smile, crooked and his nose does better to emphasize that.

"You're ridiculous." You sigh through a low smirk, swirling the red and sipping it idly- taking in his built figure with narrowing eyes. Cain quickly notices- of course. With a slappy worn out cheeky smile he makes his way behind your figure, drawing slow deliberate circles into your nape and smelling you through an exhale.

"Nothing at all?"

"Maybe there is something." You titter, craning your neck behind you.

He's slumped over, elbows leaning onto his knees and sweat dripping down the back of his leather and flannel. Although it's a hot day your rather chipper mood makes for a good contrast.

Your hand swipes over the top of his head before he can react- his shouts of protest and then a teasing upper toothed smile towards your waving arm holding his prized possession- Herbert.

"Gonna keep that or you gonna make me work for it, sweetheart?"

#cain #will finish other prompts l8r :3

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molina-fix · 2 years

Text

Bygones ::: Angel (Maverick 1994) x Reader

Well, my lovelies, I honestly don't know what to say about this except: I am so horny for this man, it makes me do things I didn't ever think I would do. Angel has quickly become one of my favorite Molina bastards. I love this filthy, stinky cowboy way more than he deserves.

I have taken a few creative liberties due to the limited information we get about Angel (like his last name) and the ridiculous amount of research I've fallen into for this man.

Chapter 1 ::: Next

Summary: Angel has a bounty over his head. You plan to collect.

Rated: M, for the first chapter. Things get pretty damn spicy after this.

Words: 3.1k words

Warnings: 18+ content, youngins steer clear. Profanity. Mild blood.

Other: AFAB reader, gender neutral terms used. As always, tagged as Alfred Molina just so it reaches the rest of my fellow thirsty hoes.

This work is beta'd by my lovely bestie @weenis-beenis, to whom this is also dedicated. Without them, I don't think I would have finished this first chapter.

So without further ado, Enjoy!

Or! Read on AO3!

You should have killed him. Damn it all to hell, you should have shot him on the spot. Two rounds in the chest and this hell would have never begun. No one would have questioned you had you dragged his stiff carcass back to town. They would have taken one look at him, flinched at the gore of his chest, and paid you. They would have paid you every single cent. Damn it, you should have killed him. Now, it’s just too late.

The sleeping man at your feet snores without a care in the world. It isn’t often you catch your quarry in their sleep, but you sure do like it when it all works out. Catching them asleep means less fuss for you, means your job is easy for once.

His hat is pulled down over his eyes, the brim obscures most of his face from your view. You take another look at the crumpled, dirty page in your hand. The printed sketch is crude and messy, but the image is just clear enough to make a basic impression of what the man you’re hunting looks like. You use your boot to push the hat out of the way. After all, you want to be sure you kill the right guy.

When the hat pushes back, you just stare at him. It’s dangerous, the way you freeze. Downright stupid. He could wake up at any moment, as you gawk in horrified stupor. You’re lucky he doesn’t.

You shake your head even as you stumble back a step. A war of emotions surges through you. A rage boils inside you, it forces your grip to tighten on the gun in your hand as it conflicts violently with a desperate urge to flee that has you turning back to look at your horse, just a few feet away. You swallow hard and thick, refocus your attention back to the page.

It's him. The sketch is awful, but you recognize most of it as him, from the thick eyebrows to the scribbled goatee. The nose, however, is all wrong. The drawing is a little too small, a little too straight to look anything like his nose. It’s a pity, he has a nice nose.

Folding the page, you put it in your shirt pocket. He’s still snoring, peacefully oblivious to you standing above him in the early hours of the morning. The gun in your hands is a heavy, solid, familiar weight. You aim the barrel at his chest, caress the trigger.

You want to kill him. Heavens above, you want nothing more than to put a hole in his chest. One pull and your worries are over. You settle your finger on the trigger, grit your teeth, and look at his sleeping expression. You feel your heart clench at the sight of him, tight and uncomfortable. Slowly you remove your finger from the trigger.

Damn. You turn to look at your horse again, decide the best you can do is leave now. Leave before the man on the ground ever knows you were here. You take a step towards her when you remember the black numbers on the page. It’s a really good bounty… and you really need the money. Maybe you can’t kill him, but you could still turn him in. Even that thought causes you to frown.

Cursing your indecisiveness and the confusion at what you’re feeling, you balance the gun between both hands and turn back. You really need the money, and you won’t be the one putting a noose around his neck.

The sun is cresting over the far-off hills, promising another warm day. You aim your shotgun at his chest and push his leg with the toe of your boot. His snoring hitches for a moment, before falling back into deep heavy breaths.

You push again, a little harder, it shakes his entire body. He snorts, but still nothing. Bastard, you wish you could sleep that well. Reeling your foot back, you kick him as hard as you can in the thigh.

Choking out a pained grunt, he curses in a manner that would have made your grandmother faint. “Jesus, fuck! What the-.” He sits up and nearly crashes his nose into your double barrel. The metal catches the faintest glint of the morning sun as he swallows thickly. He flicks his gaze up to meet yours, “You even know how to use that?” You don’t answer, just push until the barrel touches the tip of his nose. He goes very still. “Alright, alright. Let’s not be too hasty.”

“You Angel Baeza Cortez?”

“Since the day I was born.” His eyes bounce nervously between you and the gun. “Might I ask what I’ve done to deserve such a rude awakening?”

Taking out the page you give it a shake, letting the corners fall open.

“Ah.” That’s all he says. Angel leans back on his hands, looking far too at ease for a man staring straight into the business end of your weapon. “Well, you got me at a disadvantage. Which was probably your plan, catching me in my sleep.” His tongue flicks over his lips and he pointedly locks eyes with you.

You get the sensation you’re stepping into something you don’t fully understand, facing a danger unlike any you’d faced before. He’s smart. Too smart. You can almost see him plotting, planning, devising a way so he can get out of this mess. It turns your stomach, the way he looks you up and down, sizes you up, measures you. This time he licks his lips, slow and wet.

Angel comes to some sort of decision as his shoulders sag and relax. He leans away from the shotgun but makes no other move. “Well, now what boss?”

Somehow, he’s put you more on edge than you had been before. He hasn’t moved, isn’t even being all that threatening but your mind goes off in warning. He’s dangerous and you won’t be taking any chances. “Turn around. Face the ground and lie on your front.” He smirks and chortles. It fills you with an angry heat. Is he laughing at you?

“Sure thing, boss.” He gives one last long look at the shotgun and far too quickly for a man who had woken up only a few minutes before, Angel lunges forward and grabs the gun in your hands. Your finger, already on the trigger, pulls. He manages to just barely push it away from himself. The blast rings in your ears as you stumble back.

Angel scurries to get to his feet but you recover before he has the opportunity to get up all the way. Taking the gun, you swing at him. His head snaps sharply to one side and he falls back. “Fuck!”

Panting, you attempt to focus on him through the haze of adrenaline. He twists onto his side, spits blood onto the dusty ground. His fingers prod at the spot where you hit him. They come away clean, bloodless. His mouth is another matter, red pools behind his bottom lip.

“Alright,” he mutters, taking another moment to spit out the metallic taste. “You made your point.”

The click of the gun as you cock the other barrel makes him flinch. “I got another bullet. If you want to try that again.”

Angel shakes his head; his dark hair falls messily across his forehead. “No. Reckon I ain’t keen on that.”

Nodding, you force your hands to steady their grip on your weapon. “Face the ground. Lie flat on your chest.” He obeys wordlessly. You watch him every step of the way, but he seems pacified for the time being. He turns his head, lies his uninjured cheek in the dust. There is a bright red mark marring his skin from his jaw to his cheekbone. The sight of it makes your chest tighten.

Once he’s settled, you step forward, grab at the rope you usually carry at your waist. “Don’t move.”

“Whatever you say boss. I’ll be good.” He grunts again as you kneel on his lower back and grab his hands to cross his wrists. You wind the coarse rope around them in a practiced motion.

Getting up you fish around in your pocket for another pellet. You reload the barrel, snap the gun closed. Angel has turned onto his side and is looking at you expectantly. Sighing through your nose, you grab his arm to help him stand. Now standing at his full height, it is impressed upon you just how large he really is. You’re glad for your foresight, catching him off guard had been the right call. You are nowhere near a match for him physically.

Angel grins at you through pink stained teeth. “Much obliged, uh…,” his thick brows furrow, “You got a name?”

“Not one you need concern yourself with.”

“Fair enough.”

You raid his things while he watches you. He’s traveling light, carrying only a beat-up leather bag, a canteen, his hat, and a rolled-up blanket. The bag only has a few basics: food, some rope, and a few dollar bills in a small pouch.

“Ain’t got a horse as you can see. Lost it two days ago.” You grab the length of rope from his bag as he speaks. “Guess I’ll have to ride with you.”

Like hell was that going to happen, but you say nothing. He smirks as you walk back to him, eyes the ropes in your hands.

“You sure do like tying things up, don’t you?” Wrapping the rope around his waist, you have to get close to grab the end from the other side. He pushes into you, pressing his body against yours. You reel back, but your grip on the rope pulls him towards you regardless of your intentions. “Don’t worry, sugar. I don’t bite. Less you want me to.”

Sneering with as much disgust as you can muster, you tie the rope tightly around his waist. He flinches but that damn smirk never fades. Stupid, smug bastard… You ignore him and tie the other end of the rope to your saddle.

“Hold on!” The panicked indignation in his voice makes you smile. “You don’t expect me to walk, do you?”

As you pack his things away along with yours, you discover a smartly hidden gun in the blanket he’d been using as a pillow. You open it to find the chambers are loaded. You’re real lucky you caught him off guard. “You didn’t actually think you’d be riding with me, did you?”

Finally, he stops smirking, a scowl overtaking his features. You finish tying your saddle bags. He’s just glaring at you now. You feel a spark of joy at the fact that you’ve managed to upset him enough to lose the smug attitude.

Mounting your horse, you check the rope tied to the saddle horn once more, before gently spurring her into a walk. The rope pulls taut.

“How far are we goin’?”

Glancing back, you watch as he stumbles, forced to move as you start heading off. “Two days by horse. Should take us three days.”

“Three days? I can’t walk that far in three days!”

“I don’t mind draggin’ ya.”

Angel mumbles something incoherent before speaking up once more, “What about breakfast?”

“Already ate, thanks.”

He’s blessedly quiet after that.

…

You don’t stop until the sun is high in the sky. Your prisoner gratefully drops to his knees when you do. His shirt is soaked in sweat, face red from the unforgiving sun. The mark on his cheek has darkened, a nasty bruise forming where you struck him. Your stomach turns and you look away from it.

Dismounting, you grab his hat and canteen. Angel watches you approach through narrowed, untrusting eyes.

Uncapping the canteen, you hold it out to him. Angel sneers and turns away. “Page says Dead or Alive. Ain’t my problem if you die from thirst.” He doesn’t turn back to you.

You hate that he isn’t looking at you, that you’re left to stare at the spot where you hit him. He can’t die. He needs to drink. You’re suddenly overwhelmed with that singular thought, don’t die. Don’t die. You’re marching him to what is almost certainly his death and yet… You cap the bottle once more. “Have it your way. We ain’t stoppin’ ‘til sundown.”

He grumbles. “Fine.”

You bring the canteen up to his lips. Angel isn’t too proud to lean into it, to greedily take as much as he can. He drinks noisily, panting harshly after every swallow. His eyes flutter closed, stay that way even when you pull back. Water drips down his chin. You follow it as it travels through his goatee, down his neck, until it mixes with the sweat at his neckline. He swallows and you’re drawn to the way his Adam’s Apple moves.

When you look up again, his eyes are open and he’s smirking.

“More?” He nods. This time when more water escapes his lips, you do not trace its course down his neck.

At that point, there is a shift in his demeanor. It makes you uneasy. One moment, he’s hostile, enraged, looked about ready to fight you again. Now, as you pull the canteen back, he relaxes, leans back on his legs. His smirk eases into a smile. “Thank you very kindly.”

You don’t like the way Angel is looking at you, nor his sudden casual manner. You were comfortable with his anger. You expected it, in fact. This, whatever it is, makes you wary. When you shove his hat onto his head, you push it down with a lot more force than necessary.

It doesn’t take long for Angel to get chatty as you continue your trek. He talks about nothing in particular, though at one point he does make a remark on the width of your horse’s ass. Despite the fact that you give him absolutely no reason to believe you might be listening, he keeps talking. It begins to grate on your nerves.

“Hey!” You look over your shoulder at him. He jogs a bit to keep up next to your leg. “I gotta piss.”

“No.”

You spur your horse into a bit of a faster walk. Angel huffs as he manages to keep up. “I’ve been holding it all day!”

Fucking… “Fine.”

“Gonna untie me?”

You look down at Angel. There is no way in Hell you’re going to untie him. You drop down next to him; find he’s standing too close. You want to put as much distance between you and him as possible. Instead, making it obvious that you are highly displeased, you pull him forward by his pants and begin to unbuckle his belt.

He makes a sound that brings heat crawling up your neck. “Well, shit darlin’. If you wanted to touch my dick, all you had to do was say so.”

You know you’re blushing, the warmth that has now reached your cheeks, unmistakable. You hope your hat and lowered head are enough to hide it from him. You definitely do not want to look at his dick, absolutely do not want to touch it. You avoid all contact with it, as you hastily, roughly open his pants enough to push them down.

“Ain’t gonna take a peek? I don’t mind.”

You push on his chest to make him stumble back and turn away. “Hurry up.” You drink water, hoping to fight your blush. You could play off your color to the heat of the day, to the long hours you’ve been riding, but you know better. And you feel like he’d know too.

“All done here, darlin’.”

You make it a point to look off to the side as you help him once more. Your knuckles brush against him and you quickly snap your hand back to yourself. Angel’s laughter fills you with shame.

“Don’t be scared. It won’t hurt you.”

Grumbling, you grab him and stuff his dick back down into his pants with a rough shove. He grunts, even as he chuckles. You don’t think about the leftover heat in your hand or the now phantom weight. You do not clench your fist, desperately trying to keep the memory of the size of him.

When you stop to make camp, Angel all but throws himself onto the ground. He doesn’t even complain when your horse moves, dragging him along the dirt for a few feet. You set up camp without a word and he’s exhausted enough to stay silent, watching you from where he lies on the ground.

It doesn’t take long for you to finish, making camp is an easy and familiar routine. A small fire heats two cans of food as you tie the end of his lead around your own waist.

You feed him with his own spoon, taking turns to feed yourself and then him. It’s a quiet affair and you’re thankful for the reprieve. Your body begs for sleep, for you to rest. You want nothing more than to drop back onto the ground, stare up at the indigo sky and count each twinkle until your mind goes quiet.

“Why didn’t you kill me?” When all you do is lift your brow at him, Angel keeps talking. His mouth is still full of food. “This morning, you coulda killed me. Had me dead to rights. Page says Dead or Alive. Why didn’t you?”

“You looked heavy. Didn’t know if I could lift you onto the horse.”

“Nah,” he shakes his head. You notice the way he wraps his lips around the spoon, the way he tongues the bottom of it as he pulls back. “That ain’t it. You could have, should have in fact, killed me. There is no way you rather be doin’ this,” he looks between you, gestures to your feeding him, “Than draggin’ around some dead fella.”

You look away, take your own spoonful of soupy beans from the can. You know exactly why you didn’t kill him. Why you couldn’t kill him. Of course, you know, but why would you tell him that you couldn’t stand the thought of it? Why would you let him know, that seeing him sleeping there had caused you enough turmoil to have nearly turned back before he’d been aware of you? You should have killed him. You were angry enough at the time to do so. But there was simply no way you could ever do that to someone like him.

Shaking your head, you feed him his last spoonful. “I don’t like killin’.”

He hums and says nothing else.

#angel (maverick 1994)#angel (maverick 1994) x reader #angel x reader #alfred molina #fanfic #molina-fix writes

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blxxdyvalentine19xx · 2 years

Text

Dicked Down in Dallas part 2 🇺🇸

Machine Gun Kelly x Lil Huddy

Boxers, his boyfriend's pink diablo shirt, cowboy hat, unfilled wine glass on the counter. The responsibility of house sitting on Chase while Colson, Rook, Slim and Baze were off in Nevada for a 'boys' trip. "Mm, let's see what kind of trouble I can get into" he popped the cork off the wine bottle, about to pour it when he hears the front door open, Chase was certain he'd locked it.

"We hit the airport when I realized I didn't have my p-" Colson spotted mid step in the kitchen doorway, keys in hand as his eyes settled on Chase. "Chase...what the fu-" he cocked an eyebrow taking in the sight of his boyfriend. "So this is what you get up to" Colson grinned, taking the bottle and tipping it back as he took a drink.

"Didn't think you'd have any reason to come back..." he bit his lip when Colson lips wrapped around the neck of the bottle. "When you're not around, yeah" Chase felt his cheeks get warm as his boyfriend smiled. "I probably look ridiculous" he ran a hand through his hair, looking off side.

Setting the wine bottle on the counter, he pulled Chase towards him, smiling as the boy looked up at him again. "Perfectly ridiculous" Colson tipped the brim of the hat upwards before leaning in to give his boyfriend a kiss. "And so fuckable right now." He mumbled, grabbing Chase by the ass.

"You're gonna be late Kells" Chase whispered between kisses as he wrapped his arms around Colson's neck. "You got to get g-" his body arched toward his boyfriend as he was pulled closer.

"We've got time, why we left early, someone always forgets something." Colson grinned, pulling away from the kiss to look at Chase. "Quickie?" He licked his lips as his boyfriend bit back a moan. "Right here" Colson ran his hand up under the shirt and pressed it against the small of Chase's back.

Rolling his eyes, Chase gripped the back of Colson's neck. "Long as none of them hear of this." He pulled Colson back into the kiss and jumped, grinning as Colson picked him up. "I want you to wear the cowboy hat." Chase hummed when his thighs hit the cold island.

"I'm not wearing that damn hat" he mumbled, dropping his head to Chase's neck, kissing over the day old hickeys. "It looks ridiculous" he pushed himself between his boyfriend's legs and grabbed the man's thighs.

"You're wearing it Colson, all the stuff I do for you" Chase moaned when Colson bit his neck, sucking over one of the hickeys. "You can do this one thing for me." Body limber as he was pushed down against the island. He looked up, grinning as Colson sighed.

Hating the very fact he bought the hat in the first place, Colson shook his head and sighed. "Fuck, fine." He took the hat off his boyfriend, putting it on himself and got his jeans off. "You're fucking lucky you're cute"

Looking up at his boyfriend, Chase bit his lip and purred as Colson's messy hair peeked out below the brim. "Howdy, cowboy." He teased as his boyfriend kicked out of his pants. "Fuck me good cause we won't see eachother for three days."

"Ohhh, I'll fuck you like you're daddy's little whore." He growled, pulling Chase's boxers down. "You're gonna take it all, slut." Colson pressed himself against Chase's hole, grinning as his boyfriend gasped. "Feel that? I'm going to fill you're tight little hole with it."

Hearing Colson fall into degrading him was hot as fuck and Chase gasped when Colson's tip pressed over his hole. "Like?" His head tipped back as his legs were pushed to the sides. "I am daddy's whore." He grabbed at his boyfriend's wrist as Colson pushed into him. "Ughhh" he clenched around Colson's dick, eyes closing at the same time.

Rubbing Chase's side, Colson stilled as Chase tightened around him. "Breathe, you're alright angel" he cooed, drawing small circles with his hand over his boyfriend's stomach. "You're so fuckin pretty Chase." He hummed, feeling Chase relax a little.

"S-low" he mumbled, controlling how much of Colson's dick went in at a time. "G-oddd you're so big daddy," Chase whimpered as he looked down, his boyfriend's hand pressed against his stomach. "Fuckkk" he licked his lips as Colson watched himself slide into him.

"Mmm, you're the one whose so tight" Colson groaned, watching himself fill Chase slowly, hole stretched as he was slid further into his boyfriend. "Take it all angel fangs" he purred out the words as Chase bared his teeth. "Fuck, ohhh my God Chase!" he nearly tipped forward when he was pulled the rest of the way in.

His ass full with Colson's dick, Chase clenched around his boyfriend again, moaning as his boyfriend's hand clenched and opened against his shoulder. "They're gonna know you fucked me" he mumbled out as they're eyes met when Colson looked at him.

Not sure if he should move yet or not, Coslon swallowed, cheeks red as Chase was looking at him in awe. "Can I..." he shifted as Chase relaxed again. His body begging to move as his boyfriend kissed him.

"Y-eah, yeah" Chase whispered, pushing a hand into Colson's hair as he pushed the hat off, locking his fingers in his boyfriend's hair. "Kind of decided I wanna see your beautiful face." He blushed, head falling back as Colson got to work.

Slowly pulling out, Colson rocked forward into Chase, moaning as his boyfriend practically followed him. "Fuck mm gonna miss you baby" he mumbled against Chase's shoulder, fucking in and out of the man. "God you feel so good angel" Colson moaned as Chase gripped his shoulders.

^^^^

His body rocked forward against Colson's dick as they both came. Chasing orgasm as his back was lifted off the island by Colson's arms around his waist. "Fuckkk, oh my god Colson!" Chase whined into his boyfriend's neck as he felt Colson twitch inside of him.

His hands gripped Chase's hips as his boyfriend stiffened before coming. Both of them glued to eachother, grabbing whatever they could to stay upright. "I hate to fuck you and run" Colson hummed, reluctantly laying Chase back down and sliding out of him.

"You can worship me later, you have to clean up and get going" he dragged a hand through his hair as Colson ran a clean dish cloth under the sink. "Give it here" Chase puts his hand out for the cloth and swung around, running the cold cloth over Colson's bare chest. Grinning as his boyfriend shivered.

"Half the time I think you're more into the after care than you are my dick." Colson slid an arm around Chase as the man cleaned the both of them up. "Mm gonna put a different shirt on anyway." He mumbled, winking as Chase's free hand came up around his neck. "Don't have time for you to tease me, baby."

Chase grinned again, folding the cloth over before taking his boyfriend by the neck. "You give good dick but I do love the being taken care of after." He purred as Colson winked at him. "Pour me a glass of wine and I'll go get you a shirt." Dropping his hand, Chase started off, slipping his boxers back on before running up the stairs.

"And my passport!" He hollered after his boyfriend, smiling as the raven haired boy disappeared up to the bedroom. "Fuck, he's gonna be the death of me." Colson slid his jeans back on before filling the glass with wine. "Gonna miss my angel fangs" he said before grabbing the necklace he'd been saving for Chase's birthday and took the box into the living room, setting it on the coffee table.

Hopping off the last step, Chase grinned happily as Colson came back around the corner from the living room. "Its a good colour on you" he said, handing the yellow t shirt to his boyfriend.

Exchanging the wine glass for the shirt, Colson kissed Chase's forehead. "Don't miss me too much angel" he slid the shirt over his head as Chase took a sip of the wine. "I'll be back Mid Monday, okay?" Colson pulled his boyfriend into a hug and slapped Chase's ass. "There's stuff in the fridge, you're free to it."

^^^^

Passport in hand, Colson managed to vet back to the airport and find the guys, all in time as they still had a good 15 minutes before boarding. "Yeah, I know I cut my time close." He looked to Rook as the drummer let go of a breathy sigh. "What?"

Noticing kells' attention on him, Rook glanced up from his spot on the floor, pursuing his lips as Colson was now in a different shirt. "Took long enough to get "just" a passport." He stretched his legs out and grinned.

"I uhh...got a little..." he looked at his phone as it dinged, a text from Chase "....distracted." Colson grinned wide as his boyfriend sent him a photo of the tacos he'd thrown together. '🤤🌮' he sent the response and looked back at Rook. "Weak willed, Rookie, weak willed."

'Call me when you land 🏜✈' Chase hit send, walking into the living room with his wine and the plate of tacos. "What did he..." emptying his stuff onto the table, he plucked both the box and the card up. "Fuck, I don't know where he ever got the nickname." Chase smiled as the envelope was labeled 'angel fangs'

《《》》 Monday afternoon

Curled up in Colson's bed in one of his boyfriend's hotel Diablo shirts, Chase was long since asleep and comfortable when he was startled awake by two voices, one belonging to Rook and the other to Colson. "Christ, they're loud" he growled, pulling the other pillow over his head.

"Home at last!" Colson grinned, dropping his stuff on the floor and in the chair before dropping onto his bed. "Heyy baby" he ran a hand over Chase's arm as he slid up the bed. "Miss me?" Colson ended up laughing when his boyfriend swung at him and gave him the middle finger.

"Fuck off Colson!" He grumbled as he was pulled across the bed by two arms around his waist. "You know how much I hate being woke up." Chase wrapped his arms around Colson's neck, his legs being wrapped around his boyfriend's waist.

Feeling the cold metal of the necklace around Chase's neck, Colson smiled, running his fingers over it, two angel wings centering a set of vampire fangs. "Missed you so much angel fangs" he mumbled as Chase nuzzled up to him, bodies entwined.

"Mmm" Chase looked up, eyes landing on his boyfriend as Colson's hand wrapped around his shoulder. "Hey Gunner" he licked his lips as he ran his fingers over the bite mark tattoo on Colson's neck. "Did you have any fun without me?" Chase asked before tipping his boyfriend's head, lining his eye teeth up with the tattoo and bit down.

Eyes closing as Chase bit at his neck, hand grabbing the man's shoulder. "Just a little bit." Colson brought his other hand up, cuffing his boyfriend on the back of the head lightly.

Hissing as Colson's hand connected lightly with his head, Chase let up only a little before sucking a hickey over it. Running his hand down his boyfriend's arm, he grinned as Colson swore at him.

"That's enough, that's why I got the tattoo" Colson grabbed Chase by the chin and forced his boyfriends mouth open. "You ever gonna stop the biting? Humm?" He ran his thumb over Chase's cheek and smiled.

"Probably not" he came away, stretching out once Colson let him go. "You know I'm gonna do it before I do it." Chase had a fascination with Colson's neck from the beginning and bit him the first time they'd had sex. "I like marking you, tattoo or not."

"You're such a brat" Running his fingers through Chase's hair, Colson sat up and pulled his boyfriend into his lap. "and you're obsessed with my neck." He rested his chin on Chase's shoulder and squeezed the man lightly. "Making me think my boyfriend's a vampire."

Hearing the end of what Colson just said, Rook let go of a sigh and groaned. "God you two are fucked up."

#machine gun kelly #lil huddy #machine gun kelly fanfic #machine gun kelly smut #lil huddy fanfiction #lil huddy smut #chase hudson fanfiction #chase hudson smut

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pascalpanic · 3 years

Text

‘Nilla Bean (Agent Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x gn!Reader)

Summary: A cowboy in your coffee shop is not the way you’d expected your morning to go, but you’re not complaining; especially not when he’s as attractive as he is.

W/C: 2.1k

Warnings: talk of food/eating, brief allusions to alcohol, lots of flirting, sexual innuendos, I think there’s like a single use of fuck

A/N: okay I’ve been thinking about this FOREVER but I finally went ahead and wrote it!!! hope u guys like it, I’m a sucker for a coffee shop AU as a barista myself :) thx @theteddylupinexperience for helping me name it and motivating me to write it lol

When you started your shift this morning, you’d groaned as you tied the apron around your waist, expecting an uneventful day. Most were. If you were lucky enough to see someone you knew or to have an especially nice customer, you’d consider it a good day. You didn’t know when you walked in that it would be the good day to end all good days: nothing could top this one.

Weekday mornings in the fall aren’t particularly busy. The majority of your customers come around the morning rush, and the remaining ones are usually retirees or house-spouses and their young children. It’s enjoyable, days like these, that don’t require you to dash about the shop.

The only problem, really, is having nothing to do. You clean the coffee grinder, wipe down tables, wipe down everything else, then do it all again. Restocking, usually an endless chore, isn’t even an option; no one’s using anything in the first place. You and your coworkers chat, deep-cleaning the coolers, washing the blender stations, and doing the dirty work. When a customer comes, you’re the lucky one who gets to go take their order and put your task on hold first.

It seems like you’ve done every task twice, even when your manager introduces yet another idea for you to deal with. To bide your time, you prep coffee for later, rearrange the case of pretty little pastries that sits next to your register, and doodle on your station with a paint pen, humming to the soft music playing in the shop.

People come and go, some picking up mobile orders and some ordering from you, some choosing to eat inside and some taking their food to go. You sip your drink happily between customers- a white mocha with caramel.

At one point, you’re in the back and washing dishes when a coworker peeks his head into the back. “Hey, you got someone up front!” He informs you, and you nod and wander out through the swinging doors.

Well. That’s certainly a sight for a Tuesday morning.

The man standing at the register is wearing a painfully well-tailored suit jacket, with gray tweed and patches on the elbows. Beneath it is a white top and a black tie, and the man wears jeans on the bottom half. Interesting.

Perhaps more interesting is the large cowboy hat perched atop his head. The man’s face, below the brim of his Stetson, is incredibly handsome. He has an aquiline nose, a neatly trimmed mustache that wouldn’t work on anyone else, and warm brown eyes that make you smile softly.

“Hi,” you comment as you log into the register. “Are you a part of our rewards program?” You ask as part of your regular spiel.

The man furrows his brow then shakes his head. “Uh, no. No I’m not. Can you sign me up now?” He asks, and his voice makes your chest flutter with the tone. It’s rich and smooth, with a beautiful southern twang.

Looking at your register and back at him, you shake your head. “It’s just an app on your smartphone, really easy,” you tell him.

“Ah, damn,” he groans and pulls it from his pocket. “I’m shit with technology. Why don’t you just… type it in here?” He says, handing you his phone with a notes page open. His thick fingers accidentally lock the phone as he hands it to you.

You tap the screen to wake it and find the background to be a picture of a cute little pig all covered in mud. “Uh, you locked it,” you chuckle. “What’s the password?”

The man looks down shyly. “1-2-3-4. Don’t make fun’a me, I’m like a grandpa with these newfangled phones.”

It’s endearing, you have to admit, and it makes you giggle. “Not a problem. I’m not here to chide you on your security choices,” you shrug. You type in the code and find the app, starting the download for him before handing back his phone. “Can I get a name to start your order?” You ask as you look up at him.

His eyes hold a warmth there, radiating off of his smile. “Whiskey.”

“Your mother named you Whiskey?” You tease as you type in the name, returning back to the main page of beverages. “Some kind of legal name.”

The man shakes his head. “Nah, that’s just what I go by at work.”

Whiskey likes conversation, you notice, and it makes you chuckle a little. “You got a real name then?” You ask him, raising an eyebrow beneath your visor.

The man tips his hat. “Jack Daniels, at your service.” He says and offers you a hand, which you take and shake.

“That’s a lie. You’re telling me your nickname is Whiskey and your real name is a type of whiskey?”

The man shrugs. “My momma had a real funny sense of humor, I guess. My daddy loved the booze so they went with it. I work for Statesman, so I suppose it’s fitting.”

“Ah, the distillery,” you nod with a smile, not grasping the depth of what Statesman actually does. How could you? “Well then, Jack,” you say with an honest grin on your face. “What can I get you to drink?”

Whiskey, Jack, whatever his name is, looks up at the menu, scanning the different beverages. “Well. That sure is a lot of choices. I’m new to the area, so I don’t know the menu yet, and I don’t know the first thing about coffee other than how to make it in a machine,” he admits to you. “What would you recommend, sugar?”

Sugar. Your heart beats a million times faster at the man’s words. You’ve had lots of weird and creepy men call you different things, but you’ve never been flustered and enjoyed it. This man is getting to you, quickly. “Well, how strong do you take your coffee?”

He thinks about that for a second, fiddling with the button on his suit jacket. “Pretty strong. A little sweet, with cream. I usually take it Irish style,” he admits with a chuckle, tapping a belt buckle that you realize is a tiny flask. Jesus. That’s not cheesy.

“Well, we don’t serve alcohol,” you laugh and look down at your screen. “We have all kinds of flavors.” You list them all off, off the top of your head, now staring at the ceiling to recite them all. “And our seasonal drink is pumpkin spice.”

The man raises an eyebrow. “Wonderful and all, but what do you like? You seem like you’ve got a good taste, darlin’, tell me what you’d recommend.”

God, these names are going right to where they shouldn’t, especially not when this handsome man is leaning on your counter and flirting with you as he orders his coffee. “I like vanilla.” You shrug.

The man laughs and stands. “I hate to say it, sugar, but I’m not a very vanilla man,” he says, his head tilting down and his dark, sultry eyes peeking out at you from just below the brim. His voice is seductive, implying something else other than the flavor.

Oh fuck. “Oh, not like that,” you laugh as your face floods with warm blood, anxiety coursing through your veins. “Not vanilla in that way.” Fuck, that’s even worse, you think and grip the counter so as to not physically cringe at your words.

“Not like that, huh?” His words are still so seductive and flirtatious it makes you want to combust. Maybe you will, if he keeps this going.

“N-no,” you stammer, looking down at the menu screen again. “I mean, I just think it’s underrated. People dismiss it as boring, but it’s really just as interesting of a flavor as anything else. It tastes really good with our espresso.”

Jack tilts his head to the side, a smirk on his face. His lip pokes out just slightly to wet his lips and you shiver involuntarily, your skin pricking up all across your body. God, you hope he can’t see it. “I’ll trust you on it, ‘nilla bean,” the man drawls and stands up straight again. “Triple espresso with vanilla and cream.”

You nod and ring that in. God, if he keeps going with the nicknames, you’re going to melt into a puddle here and now.

“What are these?” He asks as his fingers trace over the drawings on the counter, lifting them and finding the pink and green powder of the dried paint has transferred to his fingertips.

God, he makes you nervous, but in a good way. In the best way possible, a way that makes you want to knock that cowboy hat off his head and find out if his lips are as soft as they look. “I draw when I’m bored. It’s been a slow day,” you chuckle as your own fingers trace the crawling vines and flowers you’d painted there. “Sorry about the transfer,” you chuckle and your fingertips brush his, making you involuntarily shudder again at the contact. His fingertips are calloused and radiate warmth. “Uh, can I get you anything to eat?” You ask and gesture at the bakery case.

The man inspects it for a moment, looking at the various foods lined up under the soft white light. “I’ll take one’a these,” he says and pokes a finger towards the chocolate chip cookies through the glass. You nod and take one out for him, putting it in a little paper sleeve and handing it over. “How much is this gonna hurt my wallet?” He asks, pulling it out from the back pocket of his jeans.

“Give me one second.” You type in your code for your employee discount, which takes a moment.

“What’re you typin’ there, ‘nilla bean?” He asks, brow furrowing.

Looking up at him, you push your visor up your face and smile a little. “Oh, I’m giving you my employee discount. It’s ridiculously priced here.”

Jack frowns. “You don’t have to do that for me, sugar. I’m just a regular ol’ customer.”

It’s your chance, you realize, to say something or stay silent forever. “Well, I like you,” you admit and take the credit card he hands you, swiping it through the machine. “And I’m hoping you’ll at least become a regular. I’d like to see you more,” you tell him with a grin.

The man’s face lights up, even beneath the shadow of his brim. “I’d like that too,” he nods and pockets his card when you hand it back.

A beat of silence passes as the two of you smile at each other, both of you lovestruck immediately. “Uh, your drink will be right up over there,” you say and nod to the other end of the café. “Are you going to drink that here or take it to go?” You ask.

“Oh, here,” he nods.

“Perfect,” you say with a small smile. “Then I’ll just bring it to you when it’s ready. Nothing better to do today,” you shrug and wander down to the other end before Jack, Whiskey, whatever can refute you.

You take the cup from your coworker, humming to yourself as you put some vanilla and cream in the cup, pulling the espresso shots. When it’s ready, it barely reaches the halfway mark of the small cup, so you top it with a little whipped cream. You suspect the man has more of a sweet tooth than he lets on.

Pocketing a pink paint marker, you put a lid on the drink and walk out to the dining room, setting the coffee down across from him. He’s munching on the cookie he’d ordered, looking up at you with unintentional puppy dog eyes. “Hey there.”

“Hi,” you smile and pull out the chair across from him, sitting down and pulling out the paint pen. “I put a little extra whipped cream on top. I thought it would go well with the espresso, make it a little creamier or something.”

As you uncap the paint pen, Jack’s brow furrows as he watches you. “Whatcha doing there?” He asks as you bring his cup closer to yourself and write something on the top.

“Being brave,” you chuckle and cap the pen, sliding it back. “I gotta head back. Enjoy it,” you say as you stand and pat him on the shoulder.

Only as you walk back to the register does Whiskey comprehend exactly what you put on the top of his cup. It’s your phone number, in that chalky pink paint, and a smiley face beneath it.

Jack may not be great with technology, like he told you, but he immediately pulls out his phone and takes a photo. Then he enters the number into a contact, filling out the name: ‘Nilla Bean.

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