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yourmidnightlover · 2 months

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the sun

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: after the events of the snap, you find out news that's both heart wrenching and warming. what happens five years later when bucky's back?

warnings: death, mourning, pregnancy, childbirth, canon-typical violence (not much but just adding to cover all the bases), loosely based on end game and infinity war (as in ignore my mistakes lmaooo), if i failed to mention any warnings PLEASE LET ME KNOW!

wc: 2.6k

a/n: dude idk why i've had an urge to write such heart wrenching angst lately. i'm actually in a decent place rn. i tried to cut this fic down bc originally it was SOOOO long i felt like a lot of it was just filler and i feel like shorter fics of mine tend to do better... ANYWHO! this does have a happy/hopeful ending so no worries! also picturing this beefcake for this story is AGHHHHHHH!

you never thought two lines on a stick could ever break your heart the way they did.

tears clouded your vision as you gripped the counter, trying not to crumble or succumb to your grief.

6 weeks ago, the avengers lost. everything.

half of the world, gone in a moment.

in one moment, your world collapsed. seeing bucky fade to dust right in front of you...

sobs wracked through your body as you crumbled to the ground.

this was supposed to be a happy moment. there should be tears of joy, not sobs of sorrow. your heart should feel full of love, not like there's a super-soldier sized hole in it.

"y/n," nat's voice rang outside the door, giving you a moment to yourself.

"just-," you tried to level your breathing before she opened the door, knowing but not understanding the grief you were feeling.

she wrapped her arms around your body, tucking your head into her neck as she gently rubbed your back soothingly. steve leaned against the bathroom door, glancing on the counter to see what they had all expected.

a positive pregnancy test.

you were having bucky's baby.

without bucky.

you gripped his dog tags that you had been wearing since the funeral. they were the only thing that could truly ground you.

they brought back happy memories of cuddling in bed, the cool metal shocking your skin for only a moment before realizing that it was only bucky and smiling at the memory.

god, it hadn't even been two months.

how were you supposed to do this alone?

"we're here for you," steve's voice called from the doorway, as if he could hear your thoughts. "you'll never be alone. not in this... not ever." he shook his head, his brows furrowed in a serious, straight line.

eventually, your sobs subsided. you stood with nat from your seat on the ground, wiping your own eyes mustering up a pathetic smile before she left you and steve to work out your grief together.

"we didn't even know it was possible," you shrugged. "it's like he sent me them..." you placed your hand on an invisible bump before facing steve, his teary eyes reminding you that he had lost his best friend, too. "he sent us this baby."

you reached your hand out for steve to hold. he took it gratefully and pulled you into his arms, hugging you tight and letting only a few tears slip his waterline before pulling back.

"if you'll let me, i want to be there for you for everything," his chin wobbled. "buck would kick my ass if i let you go through this alone." a genuine laugh left your lips for the first time in nearly two months.

"i would be so grateful for that," you nodded as you let go of his arms. "part of me still can't believe that it's real. it's like part of me still expects him to walk into the compound from a long mission or something..." you shook your head. "i know that sounds so stupid."

"it's not," he shook his head with a smile. "it's what i wish was true, maybe it's your subconscious trying to preserve your mind?"

"maybe," you shrugged before continuing, "i should probably talk to tony and bruce, huh?"

you knew you were around eight weeks along.

according to the doctors' tony had enlisted, however, you were already 12 weeks along, which was impossible.

bucky had been gone on a mission at that time... but it's whatever. you got to hear the heartbeat. steve went with you, too. you both bawled together. you kept three copies of the ultrasound and he kept two.

banner had already offered to do some testing on the dna of the baby, noting that the serum would likely affect the pregnancy (as it probably already has).

you had talked to tony about retiring from the whole superhero gig for the time being. you needed to mourn and prepare for a new life simultaneously. tony had promised to provide anything you needed at the drop of a hat, and he sure as hell delivered.

within no time, your pregnancy was being measured at 20 weeks while only being pregnant for 12. banner was concerned for your body's ability to keep up with the rapid rate of growth of the baby. he had you on a strict, hefty diet with two different prenatal vitamins in attempt to help your nutrition.

in spite of your best efforts, you were always exhausted and in pain. but you wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. this was bucky's baby. you didn't care how much pain you went through when you had half of him growing inside of you.

you couldn't walk for long without feeling like passing out, which banner chalked up to low iron. steve had grown progressively more worried for you and the baby the longer the pregnancy went on.

as a result, he had moved into the spare room that was in your and bucky's house. truly, it just made it easier for him to help you finish up the nursery anyway.

he was very handy about it all, painting, building furniture from scratch, the whole deal.

"i've been thinking... and if it's a girl, i want to name her evangeline james barnes," you informed steve as you ate the steak he had been making for the past few weeks of your pregnancy, as ordered by dr. banner. that with carrots, broccoli, potatoes, and for dessert strawberries, blueberries and raspberries over ice cream. "and if it's a boy, cyrus james barnes. evangeline means good news, and cyrus means sun."

steve placed his hand over yours, "i think buck would've loved them." he smiled warmly as you downed the food in a few minutes.

you had begun showing soon after you found out you were pregnant, but now, it felt like it was impossible to hide. nat had been wonderful about helping you keep up with the changes your body was going through, getting you new maternity clothes every week.

she even made sure to get you every single craving that wasn't in accordance to banner's hefty diet. not that he didn't want you to eat more, he thought it was best you did! but he also wanted to make sure that with all that you did eat, your body got as many nutrients as possible.

just to be safe, he kept you on other vitamin supplements anyway.

you couldn't help but imagine what bucky would say or do about everything now.

he would hold your body closely, pressing firm kisses to your bump every chance he could get while whispering some sickly sweet sayings to your unborn child, words that would melt the winter soldier's cold exterior.

he would whisper words of encouragement any moment you felt worried about your abilities to be a mom. he would say how beautiful you were, in spite of being bloated in places you didn't know could bloat.

he would be wonderful, and in your mind, he was still alive and vibrant. well, as vibrant as bucky ever was, at least.

truthfully, that's the only way you were able to keep going on like this. steve was wonderful, but you couldn't help but want the love of your life by your side as you tried to navigate this new chapter.

in a couple more weeks, you were projected to be at 32 weeks. bruce and tony were talking with your doctors about the safety of inducing so early, both for you and the baby.

oh, and you wanted the gender to be a surprise.

and within the week, you were having your baby.

steve and nat were by your side during the birth, whispering encouraging words and compliments of your strength.

"i need him!" you screamed in pain as you held one of each of their hands, sobbing in agony. "i need james! i need my bucky! i can't do this alone, i can't-i can't!"

"you can," nat reminded you. "this baby needs you," she held your face to look at hers. "bucky is a part of this baby." you swore you could see tears in her eyes before turning to face steve.

"remember what you told me when you found out you were pregnant?" he didn't bother wiping the tears from his face. "bucky sent you-sent us this baby. he knows you can do it." you sniffled before nodding at your two best friends, pushing with one last scream and a second later, you had...

"cyrus james barnes," the nurse called to you. "it's a boy, congratulations mom."

the next few years went by quicker than you could've ever imagined.

crawling, first words, first steps...

you missed bucky. not a day passed where you didn't miss him.

but, having cy helped a lot. he looked just like his father. dark brown hair, icy blue eyes, a cute little nose... not to mention his father's stubbornness.

you made sure he knew who his father was. you took him to the museum often, showing him the statue of his father and his background in the world war, him saving the world so much. you told him how you fell in love with him.

how you fell for the quiet man before ever really talking to him. how you were partners on a long-term, undercover mission and that's where your love ignited from the sparks.

not that cy understood any of what you told him. you just felt it was important to know that his parents loved him, and each other dearly.

you never took off his dog tags, either.

steve was a huge help the whole time. he kept working for the avengers, so he was gone often, but he provided a good male role model for cyrus. after all, he was his uncle steve. he already taught him how to throw a ball, albeit a little softball, but it counts!

you made sure to document everything that went on in yours and cyrus's life.

banner had said that cyrus was growing at an exceeding rate, but nothing to be concerned about. in fact, cyrus was turning five in almost half a year, meaning the anniversary of bucky's death, or disappearance or whatever you called it, was coming up.

then, you got a call from tony and banner.

it all happened so quickly, from testing to planning to the execution. pepper watched cyrus for you while you went back with steve, scott, and tony to get the tesseract.

of course, the men being men had to come upon a few hiccups, but eventually, after going as far back as the 70s, you brought back the tesseract.

the only thing is that nat never came back...

next thing you know, bruce is snapping his fingers and clint is getting a call from his supposedly deceased wife. your eyes fill with tears, hands searching in your pockets for your phone to see if you've gotten anything yet.

is it possible he wasn't brought back? he was the first to... disintegrate. die. maybe that meant something in the eyes of the stones?

then, you felt a buzz in your hand.

although, you didn't have any time to try to grasp what that meant, because more aliens came to earth.

shocker.

after yet another war, one that you weren't even prepared for, after losing more people, again. after losing tony...

but amidst the chaos of the aftermath of the fight, with screams of joy and shock and grief surrounding you, tears streaming down your face, your eyes met the blue ones you only saw in your son.

he slowly walked towards you as the tears sped up. you didn't even realize when your feet began running towards him.

when his arms wrapped around your waist, you finally felt the home you thought you had come to terms with never feeling again. your arms wrapped around his neck, your face buried in his shoulder as you breathed in the scent of gunmetal that had overtaken him in the battle.

"oh my god," you cried into the leather of his jacket. he lifted you off the ground, your legs wrapping around his waist as you felt his smile on your cheek. "i can't believe you're really here."

"i'm here, doll," his hands cradled your head so tenderly. "i'm not ever leaving again. never."

you pulled back before your eyes widened in realization. "you've gotta meet someone, jamie."

his brows furrowed in confusion, just smiling and nodding along with whatever you said.

within the next few hours, simply being held by bucky before steve stole him away with a hug, you finally brought him home.

"so, steve moved in," you started as you pulled your car into the driveway, turning to see bucky looking at you with an incredulous look. "you'll see why." you reached to hold his hand before he brought yours to his lips, pressing a kiss there.

you told him to wait in the car as you went inside to relieve the babysitter for cyrus. after giving him some cash, he went outside, knocking on your car window to let bucky know he should make his way inside.

upon entering, he saw you sitting on the floor with a little boy with striking blue eyes that seemed so familiar to him. his nose, too. his lips though, they were all yours. he had a slight grin plastered on his lips, one that matched yours to a t.

"daddy?" suddenly, it all clicked.

his heart, his mind, his fucking soul, everything made sense now. the pain, hydra, the mind washing, the torture.

meeting you. falling in love. dying?

his son.

he started walking closer to bucky before the steady walk turned into a run. bucky knelt down, wrapping the boy in his arms, cradling his tiny frame in his arms protectively. his son.

"cyrus james barnes," you said with a teary smile on your face. bucky, without breaking the hug with his son, looked up at you with a smile that matched yours. "cyrus means 'sun', and i thought it was fitting. he brought me so much light and hope after you..." you choked up before he stood up with cy in his arms, walking towards you before wrapping you in the big, family hug.

"i love you so much, both of you."

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #james bucky barnes #marvel #sargeant barnes #bucky #sargeant james barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #james barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes hurt/comfort #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes whump #bucky x avenger!reader #bucky x fem!reader #dad!bucky

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the-oblivious-writer · 11 months

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Pretty Girl |1|

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Chapter One: Pretty

Summary: Tara Carpenter almost misses curfew after spending some of the night at your place for movie night..Sam's not too pleased

Warning(s): Swearing

Notes: Originally was supposed to just be a one-shot but if I find the motivation in me, I might make a part two

Next part

Tara’s head softly laid on your shoulder, her arms loosely wrapped around your waist while your jacket was on top of her. She was asleep but you didn’t know what to do. It was almost past her curfew and Sam would be so pissed if she wasn’t home in time.

You don’t need to give Sam another reason to not want you around her little sister. You had to wake her up and get her home in time…but she looks so calm while resting, you couldn’t help but notice the bags under her eyes in the past few days.

It made you wonder if the nightmares had started again, if that was the case then she most likely hasn’t been getting much sleep. So how could you just wake her up? But you’ll get her grounded and probably murdered by Sam!

While you’re fighting with yourself on this you hear shuffling and look down to the younger Carpenter. Her eyes are heavy as she tries to open them.

“What time is it?” Tara mumbles but clear enough that you understood her. She saw you shift a bit nervously. “Y/N..what time is it?” she asks with more strictness in her voice.

“Eleven forty eight” You reply and her eyes widen, she looks at the clock then back at you.

“Shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” Tara says as she frantically gets off of you and grabs her things. You get up and talk as you follow her around.

“Your apartment isn’t that far from me, don’t worry if we leave now we can make it in time” You state, trying to ease her anxiety.

You’re both putting on your shoes and as soon as you stand up Tara grabs your hand and runs out the door, dragging you through your apartment hallway and down the stairs to your car.

You make it with only two minutes to spare. “Okay we’re here, now go before you get another lecture” You remarked.

“Kinda need you to come up with me though, you’re my alibi” You instantly sigh when that sentence leaves her mouth. “Tara, you know Sam hates me and she kinda scares me not even gonna li-”

“One minute and thirty two seconds left!” Tara exclaimed. You opened the car door and she gave you a quick smile before hooking her arm into yours and dragging you into the apartment building.

She’s always dragging you around. Not like you ever complained about it.

You both make it up to the apartment and as soon as she unlocks the door you're met with a few faces. Mindy, Anika, Ethan and Chad are playing monopoly. Snacks are scattered around and a couple beer cans were there.

They all instantly look at you and Tara, awkward silence fills the air and you’re not sure what to do. You end up giving a tight lipped smile and raise your hand to greet them.

“I was just uh dropping her of-” before you could finish your sentence Sam enters the room and you instantly shut your mouth when you see she seems annoyed.

“Where were you Tara?” the older Carpenter immediately asked. “Movie night at Y/N’s. Where else?” Tara responded with an attitude.

“So she didn’t help sneak you off to another frat party?”

—-

Ahh, there it is. You knew it would be brought up at some point the next time you saw Sam. A few weeks ago you had snuck Tara out to a frat party but when you came back you were met with a very, very displeased Sam Carpenter.

She started lecturing Tara and in an attempt to take some of the blame off of her you cut in.

You dumb, dumb, adorable fool Tara had thought to herself when you start snitching on yourself.

“It was me. She wanted to go but gave up cause you said no. So I uh came up with the ‘bright’ idea to come by her window, sneak her out and take her with my car. I kept an eye on her! Promise to-” Tara cut off your rambling with a look that said to stop talking.

Sam took a deep breath in and out while rubbing her temples. She ended up grounding Tara for two weeks and she wasn’t allowed to go see you in that time. You were a bad influence! How could she let you near her little sister again?

Come on, seriously coming in through her window. Who did you think you were, Christian Bale?

Tara was eventually ungrounded and you were the first person she went to. Sam was annoyed by this, she didn’t get Tara’s obsession with you but Chad and Mindy just smirked at hearing Tara practically dashed out the door to go see her ‘friend’.

—-

Now, back to the super awkward tension in the air. “Welp” you exclaimed, slightly throwing your hands in the air. “This has been spectacularly awkward but it’s getting late so I should probably get going.”

“Great, leave” Sam said, walking to sit down not before earning a scowl from Tara.

You turn to Tara,"I’ll see you, tomorrow?”

“Of course,” she said as she looked up at you. “We’ll meet at our usual coffee spot.” You couldn’t help but notice how Tara’s stare lingered on you. She glanced down at your lips for a quick moment then looked back into your eyes.

Did she..want you to make a move?

No! Of course not. Why the hell would she?

“Text me when you get home” she says and you nod.

“You look pretty..” You said lowly, almost mumbling.

“What did you say?” she asks, a blush appears on her face.

“Uhh I said you look shitty, goodnight Carpenter!” You said quickly and ran out the door.

Her friends watched the whole thing, but Tara was so caught up in the moment she forgot everybody else was there. She bit her lip and smiled.

You’re such a fucking dork..an incredibly cute dork she thought to herself.

-----

#jenna ortega #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter x fem reader #scream #jenna ortega x reader

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strvngeweather · 3 months

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It's All Greek to Me; a one shot.

🕮 PAIRING: collegetutor!jimin x partygirl!reader 🕮 GENRE: College AU, smut 🕮 WORD COUNT: 4.8k 🕮 WARNINGS: Smut, Smut, Smut 🕮 SUMMARY: After failing your college classes, you need a tutor. But if tutor, why so damn hot? 🕮 AUTHOR'S NOTE: This was originally going to be a full-length fanfic, but I decided to make it a short one. I still may expand on it. Let me know what you guys think. Also, my bestie gave me the idea when she said, "Jimin look like he likes ass." LMAO.

Despite your hatred for hangovers, you always ended up with one.

Today was no exception. As the resident party girl at Loren University, there was no way you would ever miss a weekend rager, but as your alarm clock went off for the fifth time that morning, you began cursing at yourself. Maybe going to a party on a Sunday night wasn’t a good idea.

Scheduling a tutoring session at eight in the morning was an even worse idea.

You had many strong suits, but English wasn’t one of them. It was the one subject you had struggled with since you were in high school. Analyzing the words of dead white men from centuries ago was just about as much fun as watching paint dry. Numbers were much more your thing. They were easy and in the words of Cady Heron, ‘Math was the same in every language.’

But you needed to pass. It’s not as if you were here on your parents’ dime like the other kids. You were a scholarship kid and if your grades slipped, so did you. Out the doors and on your ass. So, when you got your last paper back with a big fat ‘D’ written on it, you knew it was time to take action. And that meant getting a tutor.

You just happened to forget that today, on this bright and early morning, with a pounding headache and dry mouth, you were supposed to be meeting him.

Again, you ask, who the fuck schedules a tutoring session at eight in the morning?

With a groan, you grab your phone, hoping to hit the ‘snooze’ button on your alarm one more time before you really had to get up but when your eyes read the time you realize that it’s damn near eight-thirty. How many times have you hit the snooze button? You wonder but realize you’re only wasting more time. Without a second thought, you hop out of bed and into the bathroom, brushing your teeth and running a comb through your curly hair. Your make-up is smudged, and you still have on the shimmering dress from last night but there’s nothing you can do about it now. You grab a hoodie off your desk chair and hightail it to the school’s library.

Inside study room 007, you find a very annoyed, albeit very handsome senior waiting at the table. Laid out in front of him are a stack of books, notebooks, and flash cards. Pens and pencils are lined up neatly in a row. He all but glares at you as enter. Before you can speak, he glances at his watch and then looks back at you. “You’re late.”

“I know,” you say, out of breath. “I got caught up …” you scramble, trying to think of a lie instead of admitting you had spent the night throwing ass to Megan thee Stallion and Cardi B but your folder of excuses in the very back of your brain shows up empty. That might be for the best, you realize as you look over your tutor.

“Partying?” He finishes the sentence for you. His eyes rake over you in judgment. “Maybe that’s why you’re failing English.”

Now wait a damn minute. You scoff, crossing your arms. Your brain is foggy, you desperately need a glass of water – and, not to mention, your skin feels beyond icky. The last thing you can do right now is come up with a proper comeback so the only thing you manage to utter is, “Or maybe English is just hard.”

“You speak it every day, how hard could it be?”

“Whatever,” you say, sitting down across from him. “Can we just … start?”

Jimin checks his watch again. “We might as well. We’ve got thirty minutes left. Let’s make the most of it.”

“I thought I had you for an hour.”

“Yes, and you were late so that hour has turned into thirty minutes. I’ve got things to do, Ms. L/N. I can’t wait around for you all day,” he replies, picking up a black ballpoint pen. “Let’s get started.”

“I’d much prefer it if you called me, Y/N,” you say, leaning back in your chair. “And you’re Jimin, correct?”

He nods curtly. “Alright, Ms. L/N, your form said you have an upcoming paper that focuses on the themes from Nella Larsen’s Passing. What part of the story are you at?”

You roll your eyes but choose not to correct him about your name and instead just answer his question. “I’m not on any part.”

His eyes brighten. “You mean you’ve already finished? Well, great, let’s jump right into discussion –”

“No,” you cut him off. “I’m not on any part because I haven’t started the book.”

Jimin looks at you as if you grew another head. “Your essay for the book is due next week. The book is less than two hundred pages. What do you mean you haven’t started yet?”

You shrug. “I figured since it’s such a short book I could probably finish it and write the essay in the same day.”

“And what day were you planning on doing that since our study session is right now?”

That day was last night but as you both knew you had gotten caught up with … other things. “I guess I figured we’d start the book together and I’d just get the essay done next week.”

Jimin sighs. “Ms. L/N, whatever you manage to vomit onto paper will not bring your grade up in the slightest if you follow your method. I guarantee that.”

You find yourself rolling your eyes – again. “That’s what you’re here for. You’re my tutor so tutor me in the right direction.” Jimin studies you for a moment and then he begins carefully putting his things away into his messenger bag. “Wait. What are you doing?”

“Ms. L/N, you can reach out to me once you’ve read the book but until then, we have nothing to discuss. I only meet with students who are serious about their education,” he places his bag over his shoulder and nods toward you. “Have a good day.”

“Um, hello! You can’t just leave,” you say, getting out of your chair.

“I can and I am,” Jimin replies, and with that, he walks out of the study room. You begin to follow him but decide against it. What good would that do? He was rude and had judged you from the moment you walked in the door. You didn’t need a tutor like that.

You decided you were going to go to the campus café, buy a large coffee, and then go home to take a much-needed shower.

. . . .

“He was a jerk,” you tell your best friend, Winter, taking a long sip of your mango-pineapple smoothie. “He left right in the middle of our session.”

Every Tuesday was the same. A morning class and then a lunch date with your bestie, Winter, at your favorite smoothie place about twenty minutes away from campus.

She shakes her head but not at him. “Y/N, I love you, but you were late. You didn’t read the material, and you had the nerve to have an attitude. I would have walked out on you too.”

Harsh but it was the truth. You weren’t quite ready to admit that you were somewhat at fault too. “Okay, but I’m saying, he didn’t have to be rude about it though.”

“What’d he look like?”

“He would be fine as hell if he wasn’t so rude,” you answer honestly.

She shakes her head, amused. “What did you end up getting on your essay anyway?”

After the last encounter with Jimin, you decided you’d find another tutor, but in the meantime, you were going to stick with your tried and true. You did exactly what you had told Jimin you would do. You read most of the book in one evening and managed to type up a paper in the same night, confident that you had aced it. But when you looked online, checking your grade, you realized Jimin had been right. Regardless, you weren’t going back to him.

You sigh. “Does it matter?”

“Yes,” Winter replies. “Because if Jimin is right, then I think you should give him a call.”

“Jimin Parker?”

You and Winter look up to see Jennie Kim hovering above you. Her freshly dyed blonde hair cascaded in waves down her slender face. You may have been the resident party girl, but Jen was the resident party queen.

“Hey Jen,” you say, motioning for her to take a seat. “Yeah, Jimin Parker. You know him?”

She sits between you and Winter. “You mean that gorgeous senior? Ugh, I had him as a tutor last semester.”

“How’d he do?” Winter says, giving you a knowing look.

You lean forward. Jennie was known for many things but having good grades was not one of them. In fact, you wondered how she managed to make it this far without being kicked out. But, if Jimin could manage to get her grades up, then he truly was a miracle worker.

“Amazing,” Jen gushes. “I got an A on my last three papers. I wanted him again this semester but apparently, he’s all booked up.”

You groan as Winter gives you another look. You pull your cell phone out of your pocket and dial Jimin. “Hello?” You reply as he answers. “Hi, yeah, Jimin, it’s Y/N. I was wondering if we could set up a session …”

…

For his sake (and mostly yours) you schedule an afternoon session and this time, you show up prepared. When he arrives, he’s shocked to see you already in the study room.

“Good afternoon,” he says, rounding the table to sit across from you. You get a whiff of his cedarwood cologne. “I see you’re on time.”

“I’m early,” you correct him. “You’re on time.”

“That I am,” he says, taking a seat. You watch him closely as he carefully takes out various pens and pencils, notebooks, and flashcards. He really is handsome, you think, even if he is an ass. “I see we’re studying Oedipus Rex by Sophocles?”

You nod your head. “I read it. I don’t understand it.”

“What exactly don’t you understand?”

“Not a single word in that book. They might as well be speaking Greek.”

He sighs. “Well, it is a Greek book.”

“Clearly,” you reply. “So where do we start?”

“I guess at the beginning.”

. . . .

Things were going smoothly. You found yourself actually understanding the material and surprisingly, enjoying it. But you also found yourself getting lost in Jimin at times. The more time you spent with him, the more you developed a crush. Your mind would wander as your eyes looked over him. You wondered how soft his full lips were. You wondered what his eyes looked like in moments of passion. You wondered how good it would feel to be wrapped up in his strong arms.

Your eyes were on his arms when he called your name. “Huh?”

“I asked did you want to go over the scene between Antigone and Polynices again?”

You shake your head. “No, I think I understand. Antigone wants him to call off the war, but Polynices’ pride won’t let him.”

“Correct,” Jimin replies with a smile.

Fuck, you think. Jimin had a smile that would make anyone melt. “Jimin,” you begin and mentally kick yourself for what you’re about to ask but you’ve started so you might as well finish. You put on your best flirtatious smile. “What do I get if I ace my next paper?”

He seems to know what you’re hinting at. “You get an A and the satisfaction of knowing your hard work paid off.”

Well, if that wasn’t a blaring rejection, you don’t know what is. “Do you have a girlfriend?” You blurt it out before your brain can even process whether the question was appropriate or not.

He blinks, slightly taken aback. “Yes, yes, I do. Why?”

You shrug, trying to be as nonchalant as possible even though you feel as if you’ve just gotten stung by a million honeybees. “No reason. You just seem so into your academics; I didn’t think you had time for that kind of stuff.”

“Well, a human being still needs a social life to thrive,” he replies coolly. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

You nod. “Yes, and his name is Jose Cuervo.”

He laughs. “I’m sure you have a line of men knocking on your door.”

“Nobody I want though,” you say, mostly to yourself.

. . . .

If crushing on him wasn’t enough, now you were dreaming about him. A week of erotic dreams plagued you. They felt so real. You could smell his signature cologne as he pushed in and out of you, your legs on his shoulders and his arms wrapped around your thick thighs. Each dream ended the same though, just as he was about to finish, your alarm would wake you up and you would spend a good five minutes finishing yourself off before getting ready for the day.

Instead of a study room at the library, Jimin asked you to meet him at his apartment for the study session. He mentioned something about time constraints, appointments, and being unable to book a study room but your brain had been stuck on, “Wanna meet me at my apartment? We can have a quick recap sesh before I have to run out?” He could barely finish his question before you agreed to it.

So, sue you for being curious.

It’s not like anything will happen, you thought as you parked, he has a girlfriend. You arrived twenty minutes early. Your excitement had gotten the best of you and you knew how much Jimin liked it when you were on time. When you knocked on the door, a man almost as handsome as Jimin answered.

“You must be Y/N?” he asked, sticking out his hand. “I’m Taehyung.”

You nodded, the thought of becoming a Wattpad heroine and having two incredibly attractive men fight over you danced around in your head. You shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Taehyung.”

As he let you in, he explained he had somewhere to be, but that Jimin was in his room and to head right in. You gave the door a light knock but didn’t receive an answer. The door was slightly ajar, giving you the smallest view of a very neat bedroom. You spotted Jimin at his desk, looking at something on his large computer monitor. It looked familiar. Your curiosity ate at you, forcing your hand to ever-so-gently open the door further. This time you could see what Jimin was looking at clearly.

It was you. It was your Instagram feed. He was scrolling through your pictures, pausing at every photo that was a bit risqué.

“Fuck, Y/N …”

That was your name. Leaving his lips. In a moan. Your heart fluttered with excitement. But wait, was he …

As you tilt your head to get a better view, you can see the tip of his elbow on the armrest, bobbing up and down. And up and down. And up and down.

Oh, he definitely was.

You slap a hand over your mouth and tiptoe back to the living room. A few minutes later, you hear a shower turn on and ten minutes after that, you see Jimin emerge in a navy blue V-neck and a pair of grey sweatpants.

“Hey,” Jimin looks at you with a face full of guilt. You can’t help but smile. “How long have you been waiting?”

“I just got here a few minutes ago,” you lie, looking up from your phone that you were pretending to be engrossed in. “I haven’t been waiting long.”

“Good, good,” he says. “Let’s go to the kitchen. The lighting is better in there.”

. . . .

After three weeks of hard work and several study sessions, you submit your paper with all the confidence of Scott Disick. Winter, the best friend that she is, decided that this was the best time to reward your good behavior with a couple of jello shots at your favorite bar. You gobble up the first two and then decide to sip on a blue Long Island iced tea. That’s when you spot him. Sitting in a corner, next to his roommate and another man with tattoos up and down his arms. Instead of his usual tweed blazer and grey slacks, his outfit looks more modern, more casual. A white graphic tee hugs his toned body, and you can’t help but eye his biceps. His cheeks are slightly red, his eyes are glossy and he’s laughing harder than you’ve ever seen him laugh. He looks delicious but you turn around and decide to order another shot from the bar.

You spot Winter getting her mack on with a fellow classmate, Karina, and it’s then you realize that you’re probably going to be alone for the rest of the night. Just as you begin to grab your wallet to pay your tab, a familiar figure approaches you.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he’s wearing a smile you’ve never seen before, and it makes your insides flutter.

“I could say the same thing,” you reply. “I never thought I’d see Jimin Park in a bar.”

“I don’t spend all my time in the library,” Jimin says.

“Could have fooled me,” you tease, taking a sip of your drink. “What brings you out among people?”

He orders a whiskey sour before turning to you. “I, Y/N L/N, am finally a single man. My girlfriend of two years has decided that she no longer wants me.”

He’s smiling but you can see sadness behind his glossy eyes. “I’m sorry,” you say earnestly. “Her loss.”

“Oh definitely,” he says with a slight slur. “You want to know the real reason she broke up with me?”

You shrug. “Lay it on me.”

He leans in close, so close his body is pressed up against yours. He angles his lips to your ear and whispers, “I was too much for her.”

“Oh …”

“Yeah,” his words spill out in a rush, his eyes darkening as they take you in. They pause at your mini-skirt before crawling up your body slowly. You suddenly feel exposed, as if he just completely undressed you, but it would be a lie to say you didn’t love it. His voice lowers to a sultry whisper, “You don’t seem like that though.”

“Seem like that?”

“Like I’d be too much for you.”

“In what way?” You ask, genuinely curious.

He leans toward you, his lips brushing past your ear, forcing every hair on the back of your neck to stand up. “Sexual. You look like a good girl who knows how to take a pounding.”

A million thoughts ran through your head as Jimin broke out into a sardonic laugh. You were called back to that time you caught him masturbating to your pictures. You began to wonder if the prim and proper Jimin was just a façade to hide the sexual deviant he really was. His eyes look over you in a way they never have, and you swore they were clouded with lust. He licks his full lips, and you want nothing more than to kiss them, but you don’t. Instead, you take a step back and laugh, motioning to his roommate. Jimin was drunk and even though it looked like he wanted to bend you over the bar and give it to you, you knew better than to take advantage of a drunk man.

….

A week later, when you enter the study room, the moment you and Jimin exchange glances, you feel awkward. He looks embarrassed as he gestures for you to sit down.

“We need to talk,” he says. “I want to apologize about the other night at the bar.”

“It’s okay, I barely even gave it a second thought,” you lie. You had thought about that moment ever since it happened.

“No, it was inappropriate, and I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way.”

“Jimin, you were drunk, it’s fine. Besides, it was nice to see a different side to you,” you reassured him with a smile.

“That’s not a side that I would like to be representative of who I am,” Jimin admits. “I don’t want to be known as the guy who makes people uncomfortable.”

You laugh. “Believe me, I was the farthest thing from uncomfortable.”

He locks eyes with you for a moment before clearing his throat and motioning toward your phone. “Have you checked your grades yet?”

You gasp, suddenly remembering the paper you had submitted a week earlier. You quickly bring up your most recent webpage, searching for the most recent grade listing. As your eyes glance over your paper and the notes, you realize that Jimin lived up to his reputation. You get up, shoving the phone in his face, squealing.

His eyes brighten, and he gets up as well. “You got an A!”

Without thinking, you throw your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. Jimin, to your surprise, doesn’t push away. Instead, he pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around your waist. You take the moment to breathe in his intoxicating scent. The both of you remain intertwined far longer than you both know is appropriate but for some reason, neither one of you makes the move to let go.

Finally, Jimin relents first. He stares you in the face and says quietly, “I knew you could do it.”

You let out a small laugh. “I couldn’t do it without you. Thank you, Jimin”

“As a reward, we can end the session ten minutes early today,” Jimin replies and sits back down.

You find yourself shaking your head. “Can I request a different reward?”

Jimin looks up at you and nods. You look around the small study space. The room you chose was in the back, the library was relatively empty today and the small window the room provided was on the door and could easily be covered up the shade provided. You mentally prepare yourself for what you’re about to say next. Things could go downhill, fast, depending on his reaction. Still, you steady yourself, look Jimin in the eyes and say, “I want a kiss.”

“What?”

“A kiss,” you repeat confidently. “I want you to kiss me as a reward.”

“I can’t kiss you,” he replies back, taking study materials out of his messenger bag. “That would be highly ina –”

“Jimin, if you don’t want to kiss me, just say so but don’t use the tutor-student relationship as a reason.”

He sighs. “I …” You watch as he struggles to find the right words.

“You were right about me,” you say, giving him a flirtatious smirk. “At the bar. I can take a good pounding.”

His face turns a beet-red, but he quickly recovers. He stands, walking to stand in front of you. “Just one kiss?”

“One kiss,” you repeat.

He leans in and places a soft kiss on your lips, lingering for only a few seconds before breaking the kiss. “That good?”

You shake your head. “I hardly think that’s worth all the work I put in.”

He smiles, genuinely amused, and says, “Really?”

You nod. “Maybe if it was longer …”

Jimin sighs. “Y/N, if it’s longer, you know what that will lead to …”

“Then let it lead to that,” you challenge, you push. “I don’t know why you have to act so anal-retentive all the time. Not everything has to be perfect. Just k—”

He cuts you off with a deeper kiss. It’s slow and sensual. His hands wrap around your waist, one of them running down the curve of your ass as he palms it slowly, indulging in the fleshy softness. You can feel his dick hardening on your thigh as he slips a tongue into your mouth.

Jimin is using both hands to palm your ass now, his dick grinding into you and a low, deep, moan leaves his mouth forcing an electric sensation to shoot down your spine and vibrate in your core.

“You sure you want this?” he asks through a searing kiss.

“Yes,” you think you say but you’re not sure. Your head is spinning that this is actually happening.

He responds by lifting your pleated skirt and smacking your ass, the sound echoing throughout the room. Fingertips dance between your ass crack, and he uses a knee to part your legs slightly further. You break the kiss, throwing your head back as you feel Jimin’s fingertips slowly rub your pussy from the back. He slips a finger into your underwear, running it up and down your slit.

“How long have you wanted this?” He asks, nipping at your neck. “You’re already so fucking wet.” You try to answer but all that comes out is a moan as he slips another finger inside. “Shh,” he tells you. “You want the whole library to hear you?”

He gives you a bit of a reprieve when his hands slip away. You watch as he pulls out one of the chairs and sits, beckoning for you to stand in front of him. Your skirt is still at your waist, so he pulls your underwear down before pulling you close. You feel his large hands grope your ass again, peppering kisses up and down your hips. Another smack echoes through the room before he uses a hand to caress clit. You move your hips in response, holding on to the table for balance.

He pauses. “Turn around and bend over.” He doesn’t have to ask you twice. You obey, and not a second later, you feel him placing one of your legs up on the study table. “Arch that back, baby.” Your ass juts out just a little more as you follow his directions. A moment later you feel a cool, wet, sensation going up and down the slit of your core. It’s slow at first, as if he’s taking the time to let the taste of you marinate on his tongue but he quickly picks up his pace. The tip of his tongue flickering over your clit. Meanwhile, you can feel his thumb, massaging your anus.

Jimin was an ass man, and he was making that very clear.

Both hands were gripping your ass now as he guided your pussy over his tongue. You work your hips in tandem, stifling a loud moan as your world begins to go white.

But he wasn’t done with you yet.

He moves his tongue from your pussy up to your anus, and you jerk, having never quite felt something like this before. You can hear an amused laugh leave Jimin’s throat as he begins to massage your ass with his tongue. His fingers working your pussy, begging for another orgasm. You oblige, your wetness dripping all over his fingertips.

“Don’t move,” he demands. You can hear his belt unbuckling, followed by the tips of his dick moving up and down your incredibly wet slit. He slides it in with the patience of a saint, excruciatingly slow, forcing whimpers out of you, begging him to go faster. “You sure you want it faster?”

“Please,” you moan.

“Please, what?”

“Please, Jimin,” you manage to utter out.

He gives you your wish and begins to pound you like he said he would. His pace quickens and you can feel every inch of him inside of you. Your pussy wraps around him which causes him to smack your ass, and a deep moan leaves his lips.

You realize he can’t have all the fun though and you begin to throw it back on him, your ass bouncing against him, and he lets you. You can hear your wetness as you begin to drain his dick. You can hear his low grunts of satisfaction as you pick up your pace and when you look back, you can see his dark eyes looking at you in a way you never wanted to stop. “Good fucking girl,” he whispers in a low voice.

You make eye contact which forces him to grip your hips and pound into you harder, faster (stronger). “One more time baby,” he says to you, maintaining eye contact. “Cum on this dick.” You had already been close, and his words only sent you over the edge further than you had ever gone. You close your eyes, your body shaking in pleasure as you have your third orgasm on his dick.

He follows suit, his cum shooting deep inside of you. You feel his body on top of yours as you both try to catch your breath.

“Was that worth all your hard work?’ He asks.

“I think I’ll have to get A’s for the rest of the year,” you reply.

“The rest of your life.”

#bts fic #bts x reader #bts x black reader #jimin x reader #jimin x you #jimin x y/n #smut #bts smut #bts x reader fic #jimin x black reader

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lace-coffin · 4 months

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hello! Could you do something about Asa after he spends like, a good your looking for his newest member of the collection, and when he finds them, their just, surrounded by diff bugs?

Theres like, crickets in their hair, moths and butterfly all over their arms a few spiders crawling around their legs and their holding a praying mantis in their hands and staring at in awe. Their also babying talking it and cooing at it, when they look up and realize Asa is staring at them, they raise their cupped hands a show him the giant mantis resting their, saying with a cherry yet soft voice and smile "I named her Apple!"

I would appreciate it very much if you wrote something about this :)

But you don't have to, for any reason really.

Have a lovely night/day! Be sure to drink water and eat 💕

How would Asa Emory react to finding his new pet coddling his bugs?

Asa Emory/gn!Reader

Tw for bugs and power dynamics

Requests are open!

Asa moved through the halls of the hotel with efficiency, he knew them like the back of his hand, however that apparently wasn’t helping since he’d managed to...misplace his new pet.

You were supposed to be in your room, you were lucky you had even been granted the luxury of not just being crumpled into one of the boxes, but here Asa is, speeding down the halls and jumping/swerving around his traps like some kind of sick ballet in order to find you. You absolutely won’t be getting out of this without some serious punishment.

Asa curses at himself under his breath for making his place of operations so huge, it seemed like a good idea when he set up here and it was but damn if it wasn’t his Achilles heel in this situation.

Fifteen minutes of searching later his heart is picking up in an unfamiliar way, usually he’s not one to care about others or a stray victim but something in him can’t help but worry about loosing his newest subject already. Whether it’s because he cares for you or because he hates not being in control is anyone’s guess. (He’s soft for you and won’t admit it)

Finally as he’s cracking open a door at the end of the hallway he hears a sweet laugh echoing from further along. Bingo. You’re so dead when he finds you. As he’s about to slam the door open he realises this is infact where he keeps his enclosures for his specimens, he sighs and opts to open the door slowly and quietly as not to startle the bugs.

You don’t even notice Asa enter the room, currently too enthralled in cooing sweet words to the giant mantis in your hands.

Before Asa can demand to know where you’ve been and why, his breath hitches in his throat. There you are, sat on your knees next to the enclosure cases, covered from head to toe in his beloved bugs. The calm careful way you handle them and talk to them like they can understand tugs at his heart, his face softens at the sight, anger long forgotten and replaced by a feeling of fondness, the same one he felt when he was originally scouting you to join his collection.

The crickets cling to your stands of hair, a little messy since you had left your room before Asa got to around to brushing it but he’ll fix that later, sitting contently like they’d never been disturbed in the first place.

Moths and butterflies tap their tiny feet along your arms, fluttering their delicate wings, taking off and landing back with you when they please.

Asa takes in the scene breathlessly, if he hadn’t already been weak for you then he definitely is now. As he approaches by a few steps some thick hairy legs come into view, creeping slowly over your thighs and onto your lap. Tarantulas, two of them, using you as a lap cushion without a care in the world. You really are something special. In the back of his mind Asa makes another note to keep approaching slowly, despite you needing a punishment he’s not exactly wanting his eight legged pets to kick hairs at you in fright.

After a few minutes of blissfully observing one of the tarantulas unhurriedly totters off your leg and begins to move across the room. “Oh, where are you off to little guy? I need you over here with me, I’m already probably in big trouble with sir” you sigh. “I don’t want to loose you and make it worse, besides, I don’t think I could forgive myself if something happened to you under my watch”

In a strange way you suppose you understood Asa’s need to keep you under wraps right now, not wanting this beautiful specimen to disappear from your sight, much like Asa with you.

You swivel on your knees to coax the spider back into your palms, nudging its abdomen for encouragement and letting it waddle back into your hands. From your new position you catch a glimpse of heavy black boots in your peripheral. Oh.

You turn your attention fully to the man above you, heart racing at the idea of what’s about to come, however as you reach his eyes they aren’t filled with the rage or disappointment you were expecting. The black orbs are filled with softness, fondness, almost something sweet you can’t decipher.

Without thinking you present the giant mantis to Asa, still on your knees. “I named her apple!” A beat passes and an array of emotions flutter through Asa’s steely heart, his blank face still giving nothing away. After what feels like an eternity he crouches down in front of you, cupping his hands under your own, assisting in holding the mantis. “A fine name for her, pet. Do you know what species Apple is by chance?” He says in his firm but calm, leading voice, slipping into the tone he uses when teaching his lectures without even realising it.

“Uh-no, no I don’t sir…tell me?” You say, wincing a little at the stumble at the beginning, hoping asking him to tell you didn’t come off as rude or undermining his authority. Asa smiles, not letting anything on.

“She is a Giant Asian Mantis, or Hierodula membranacea, If you want to get technical. These are the most commonly kept mantis as house pets and come in an array of colours, but as you can see, apple is mostly light green. I think your name fits her nicely.” Asa explains matter of factly, hands still cupped under yours for Apple to totter onto.

“Woah” you say without thinking, watching Apple move to Asa’s palms and taking in the information. Asa exhales from his nose in a small chuckle. “Woah indeed, however I think it’s time we get you and Apple back to your respective rooms” Asa says with a quirked eyebrow, giving away that your not going to get away with this unpunished just because he finds you endearing.

Asa helps you round up the specimens and places them back in their individual tanks. After making sure you both wash your hands thoroughly he takes your now clean hand and walks you back to your room, letting you ask him more bug questions as you walk.

Despite how lovely this has been you’ll still be given a stern talking to once you return, Asa can’t bring himself to punish you for your little adventure and entomology lesson but isn’t one to let you off the hook without some kind of consequence, after all he expects your complete submission and obedience and won’t settle for any less. But for now that convocation can wait, and Asa can get you comfy on your knees infront of him, manoeuvring your head via the ring on your collar and finally working the comb through the snags in your hair with care.

I hope you enjoy this! Your rq was super fun to do and the idea was really cool! Thank you so much and feel free to send me more < 3

#slashers #slasher x reader #slasher headcanons #asa emory #asa emory x reader #the collection #the collector #the collector x reader #writing #my writing

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celtic-crossbow · 8 months

Text

Write Love Letters Across Your Lips

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Alexandria

Warnings: Poorly written smut, p in v

Summary: Well, that wasn’t how the night was supposed to go, now was it?

A/N: This wasn’t even one of the 5 I already had started but it took my brain by storm.

They weren’t supposed to be home.

Rick, Michonne, Carol…Oh, god! Carl and Judith. They were at a dinner. One you didn’t care to attend and, gauging from the eight inches currently pushing into you at an agonizingly slow but so pleasurably deep pace, Daryl didn’t attend either.

You had never realized just how small the front closet was until the archer had heard the footsteps and voices on the porch, pulled you away from the wall, and crammed you both in there. There had been no time to separate, your legs firmly around his waist. No time to grab your clothes, he had kicked your pants in before closing the door.

You gasped against his neck, thankful the coats hanging behind you were pillowing you when Daryl decided pumping into you faster was the way to go. You were speeding toward climax while you were certain he was currently just enjoying your suffering.

As if to emphasize your point, he pressed you further against the clothing and you reached up to grab the pole holding the hangers just as he snaked a hand between you to press his thumb against your clit. Your chest pressed against his when you arched. He was quick to cover your mouth with his other hand, leaving you to pray the pole would hold with nothing else holding you to him but your trembling legs.

“Ya gonna cum for me, girl?” He smiled against your throat, you could feel his teeth part for his tongue to taste your skin. You nodded shakily, eyes rolling back.

“Let me just hang my coat and I’ll get the leftovers put away.”

Oh god, Carol, no!

The door opened, thankfully just wide enough for Carol to see in, her eyes the size of saucers. Daryl had stilled, his palm nearly suffocating you to muffle the sounds of your panting. Your eyes pleaded with her to close the fucking door while Daryl gave her a shrug that was so nonchalant you made a mental note to punch him in the dick once you were finished with it.

The surprise on her face faded into a smile and she mouthed ‘I knew it’ before tossing her jacket over Daryl’s head. The light faded with the click of the door. You clawed the coat away from his face as quietly as possible with one hand, praising whatever higher power there was that he chose to pick right back up where he left off.

“Tired’a waitin’.” The circles he rubbed against your bundle of nerves picked up. The thrill of being seen, of knowing others could still catch you, must have set something off in the archer. He was pulsing inside you, chasing his own high while desperately coaxing yours from you. “Cum.”

The harsh whisper against the shell of your ear tipped you over the edge. Darkness exploded into colors as flames ignited in your veins, traveling out from where he was splitting you open. His fingers pressed harder into your cheek in a desperate attempt to keep you quiet while he silenced himself by sinking his teeth into your shoulder. He was still twitching within you when the world came back into focus, his hips thrusting lazily in order to ride out the last dregs of his own orgasm.

Peeling his hand away from your mouth, you sought out his lips, hungrily tasting him while your head was still spinning. He sank back against the few jackets behind himself, shaking legs barely able to hold you both up now.

“I wonder where Daryl and Y/N could possibly be?” Carol sing-songed from somewhere outside the door.

If the woman had a dick, you’d punch her there too.

#murda writes #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon smut #the walking dead #daryl dixon x female reader #mdni #Spotify

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gretagerwigsmuse · 2 years

Text

and even when we’re wrong in every way, we come out the other side okay [part 1/2]

Summary: in which lieutenant commander bradshaw has a thing for smart girls - and maybe ones who hate his guts on principle. a lie by omission is still a lie after all and bradley never exactly told you what he did for work...

OR you take on the us military industrial complex one hinge date at a time...well sort of

Pairing: Rooster x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+, explicit language, explicit sexual content (oral (m receiving), vaginal fingering, p in v, and slight dom/sub and praise and rank kink elements), idk basically she’s a bit of a brat? and he likes it? it’s kind of filthy, but it’s supposed to be kind of funny and a little silly?

A/N: thanks to everyone who liked the sneak peek and provided such positive feedback! but i really have to give a shout out to my buddy sol (desertsagecelestial) for being the absolute best sounding board with this fic! definitely check out her wip, it’s amazinggggg. anyway, enjoy! (9.9k) Part 1.5

Bradley previously hadn’t had much luck on Hinge, but after Phoenix had taken charge of his profile, specifically his picture selection, he had been doing a lot better. That being said, however, you were still the first girl he had actually met up with to go on a date.

Hangman had initially scoffed at the notion of Bradley’s Hinge date that night - god, Bradshaw you’re hopeless, don’t you know all the easy ones are on Tinder? - but had quickly changed his tune once Bradley had shown him your profile.

She seems smarter than you was all he had said and Bradley wasn’t so cocky as to not take it as a compliment. Plus, he liked smart girls. There was something about them. It didn’t hurt that the ones he had come across were always a little prissy, a little spoiled - a little uptight.

A little bratty.

You both originally bonded over going to UVA - albeit with quite a few years between your graduating classes. You worked for one of the Big Four accounting firms and had a job title that Bradley didn’t quite understand except for the fact that it sounded important. You both traveled a lot for work, were newly settled in the area and randomly New England Patriots fans.

Over the last few days, you had been texting frequently, starting off the day with your Wordle scores and a fun fact. It was cheesy and a little nerdy, but you were a big trivia fan - and San Diego County Barstool Trivia Champion - and Bradley had wanted to impress you. It was important that he impressed you.

Before heading out for training every morning, he’d try to find some new fact to stump you. His were always a bit nerdy, more random, while yours were always a bit more serious. Yesterday’s had been the tiny pocket in jeans was made for a pocket watch, while yours had been there are over 7100 islands in the Philippines.

Thankfully, the date was going well - really well, actually. You both loved history and had studied political science at UVA. Bradley couldn’t believe you’d had some of the same professors, even graduating eight years apart.

And he couldn’t stop the smile from creeping across his face when he got you to admit - begrudgingly - that you had been a Tri-Delta. Because of course you had been. All the smart, rich girls had been. And well, if one thing had been consistent over the years, it was Bradley’s taste in women.

That being said, he had been absolutely bowled over when you had shown up, pretty little sundress and all, looking even more beautiful than the pictures on your profile.

More to the point, though, he liked you and it appeared that you liked him too if the way you readily laughed at his jokes and kept brushing your knees against his under the bar top were any indication.

But it was about an hour into your date when the trouble started. Or well, maybe not trouble. A development, he supposed.

A minor divergence of opinion, really.

Nothing major.

“So, what’s with the bar?” you asked, looking around, a teasing smile on your face. Bradley cocked his head. “I mean, is it just me or is like every naval officer within a forty mile radius here?”

He shrugged. “Oh, uhh my friends and I like it. It’s right near the base and we normally come after training. It’s not too fussy, I guess, so I thought it would be good for a first date. Low key and all that?”

Maybe he had misjudged picking the Hard Deck. It wasn’t exactly the finest establishment in San Diego County, but the drinks were good and you had mentioned Coronado a couple times over text, so Bradley had thought it would be convenient for you.

In fact, to offset the location, he had even worn a pale blue oxford, unbuttoned but with a plain white t-shirt underneath. You seemed like the kind of girl who would have appreciated the effort. At least that’s what he had gleaned from your Hinge profile.

“Oh.” That wasn’t a good ‘oh.’ You even leaned back on your barstool. “You’re in the military?”

Bradley chose his next words very carefully, mindful that there definitely seemed to be a wrong answer here and he was about to give it.

“Yeah, a naval aviator,” he nodded, trying to sound casual, “is that going to be a problem?”

You shrugged and took a sip of your margarita before licking some of the salt off the rim. Bradley watched, captivated, despite the fact that you had just insulted him indirectly.

“I mean, I understand that we need a military - to a certain extent, at least. But I’m kind of against the whole US Military Industrial Complex thing? Like the US alone spends more on defense than the next nine countries combined. And the cost of one of those planes you fly could probably feed the entire New York City public school system’s worth of kids three meals a day for at least - well, I’m pretty shit at math, but I’d say at least five years -”

Holy shit. You were - oh, fuck. Before he really thought it through, Bradley went to interrupt you. “- I mean, when you put it -”

“- Plus, the whole imperialism, white man’s burden, manifest destiny bullshit you all like to spout out like Uncle Sam’s got your dick in his mouth. It’s a bit much.”

Bradley scoffed. He couldn’t help it. In all his years of being in the Navy, he’d never once had this sort of reaction. It was - oddly stirring, actually - finding out the woman he had envisioned every night before he’d fallen asleep the last few nights apparently now hated his guts.

“I get what you’re saying - to an extent,” he reiterated once he saw your pleased smile, “but the military still does a lot of good outside of combat zones.”

You laughed, but it lacked any humor. “Sure, taking advantage of impressionable kids with the promise of free college - that they probably won’t actually take advantage of because going back to school when you’re older than ninety-nine percent of your classmates isn’t daunting at all, to say nothing of the exploitation of foreign nations to further stock the US’ natural resource coffers - is a great business model?”

He ignored you and nodded towards your margarita. “Want another drink?”

“Only if you put it on Uncle Sam’s dime.”

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

“So, do you just regularly lie to women?”

You were both on drink number two and the awkwardness of your earlier outburst hasn’t quite dissipated yet. The sexual tension on the other hand? If Bradley had thought it was high earlier, it was stratospheric now.

“What’re you talking about?” He hadn’t lied to you, to his knowledge, at least.

You crossed your ankles and clasped your hands in your lap. “On your profile, you didn’t mention anywhere that you were in the military? A lie by omission is still a lie.”

And you didn’t mention how much of a brat you were.

Bradley shifted on his barstool and subtly readjusted his jeans. “I’m not in the habit of lying to women…”

You scoffed. “Well, how do women normally react when you tell them you fly around in a $65M plane all day?” He’d never really thought about it. “Is it like a puck-bunny thing?”

“Puck-bunny?”

“Or whatever the military equivalent of a puck-bunny is?”

It was a tag chaser, but Bradley wasn’t about to tell you that. Not when he was imagining you wearing nothing but his dog tags, splayed out on his bed, while his tongue lapped against your dripping wet cunt -

“- Some women like it, sure.”

You cocked an eyebrow. “And you like that?”

Bradley shrugged. It was nice sometimes, but it definitely got a little old, all those guys and girls imagining playing the good little house-spouse waiting for him at home with dinner on the table, two kids and a dog running in the yard. That was more Hangman’s thing, anyway. Lately, Bradley had liked his partners with a little more spark, a little more fire, a little more substance.

A little more like you.

“It has its benefits sometimes.”

It seemed like you couldn’t hold back the bark of laughter that burst out of your mouth. But just as suddenly as you‘d started, you’d stopped. You rolled your shoulders back and then flipped your hair over one of them, giggling in an exaggerated manner.

“Hmmm like this? Oh, Captain Bradshaw, please take me for a ride in your big, big plane? Is there any way I can thank you for defending our country? No, sir, it’s just the cockpit is so big and I don’t know if I’ll be able to manage it. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re well taken care of on leave. Yeah, I bet you just love that, captain,” you bit out the honorific.

“If you’re gonna be a brat about it, at least get my title right, sweetheart,” he snapped, the first time all night. He shoved his knee in between your legs, widening the space between your thighs just slightly. “It’s Lieutenant Commander.”

“Oh, my apologies.” You shifted on your barstool and crossed your legs at your ankles, looking like the textbook definition of prim and proper. “You’ll have to excuse me, lieutenant commander, all this new information I’m learning about you has left me feeling a bit…overwhelmed.”

Bradley hooked his foot around your barstool and dragged it even closer to him. You let out a squeak and had to brace yourself by holding onto his shoulders.

And then it was like everything else in the Hard Deck had faded to the background: the jukebox playing Al Green’s Tired of Being Alone, the clack of billiard balls in the back corner, the King’s game on the TV above the bar. All Bradley could focus on was you - the slight rise and fall of your chest, the way your breasts were straining against the deep V of your dress, the smell of your floral perfume, and how your eyes widened at your sudden proximity.

And that was when he knew. Knew as well as the sun was going to rise tomorrow morning that you were going to fuck that night.

He hadn’t planned on sleeping with you on the first date. In fact, it really hadn’t even crossed his mind. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. But Bradley never fucked on the first date. Long gone were the one night stands he had indulged in during his twenties. He wanted someone who was smart, who put him in his place, who he could laugh with and have a real conversation.

Someone like you - military prejudice aside. And yeah, you made some…interesting points and he agreed with some of them. But, for now, Bradley wanted to see how far you both could take this before either of you snapped.

“You have any more questions for me, sweetheart?” He dragged his fingertips down your arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. “Don’t like the thought of you being too - what was it again - overwhelmed?”

You let out a little whimper and then shook yourself slightly, seemingly stepping out of a trance.

“Hmmm have you ever taken a girl for a ride in that stupid plane of yours to get her to sleep with you? Seems like misappropriating government property would be right up your alley - lieutenant commander.”

He clicked his tongue and leaned back. “Can’t say I have. Bit of a stickler for the rules.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” you teased. “Do you have one of those nicknames - no wait, what are they called? Callsigns? Do you have one of those callsigns?”

Your legs were pressed tightly together, crossed at the ankles. He had a sudden desire to thrust his knee in between them again. It had been impossible to ignore the fire that had sparked in your eyes the last time he had done it.

In response to your question, Bradley hesitated, already knowing you were going to tease him even more. “Rooster.”

“Like the chicken?” You tilted your head. “Or is it a cock? I can never tell?”

“Why? You wanna see it?”

You rolled your eyes and knocked back the rest of your margarita, making a point to keep eye contact with him as you licked the salt off the rim - again. Fucking minx.

“I’ll be back, get me another.”

And without a word from Bradley, you spun around on your barstool, giving him the slightest glimpse of your ass when your dress rode up, and set off towards the bathroom at the back of the bar.

He sat there for a moment, his mouth slightly gapped open in - shock, awe, arousal? Because holy shit. The past twenty minutes or so had been some of the most sexually charged of his life thus far. There were times when he could have sworn one of you was going to leave - or worse, grab the other by the back of the neck and start dry humping against the bar.

“What the fuck did you say to her?” Phoenix hissed in Bradley’s ear, snapping him out of his daydream.

He startled and then gestured wildly. “It was going fine for a while and then I told her I was in the Navy and she started going on about defense budgets and misappropriating government property and Uncle Sam sucking my dick - I don’t know, Phoenix!”

She snorted and then seemed to realize he wasn’t kidding. “Oh my god - wait, we need to tell Bagman -”

“- Don’t you fucking dare -”

She ignored him and went on her tiptoes to lean over Bradley. “- Bagman, get over here,” she shouted.

Surprisingly, and without comment at the unfortunate nickname, Hangman came over towards the two of them. “What’s wrong, Bradshaw scare the poor girl off already? Probably escaping out the bathroom window as we speak.”

Bradley flipped him off, but it lacked any heat. He also signaled for Jimmy to get him another margarita and old fashioned then to close out his tab.

“She doesn’t like the military.”

Hangman whistled. “Tough, I’ve dealt with that before and trust me, it never ends well. Cut your losses and block her.”

But Bradley didn’t want to do that. His losses did not want to be cut - at all. He wanted to see how that smart mouth of yours looked wrapped around his cock. Or how prettily you sighed as he lapped at your sopping wet cunt. If you laughed easily or thought he was a good singer. If you wanted to try that new restaurant that opened in Gaslamp with him.

Fuck. He wanted you - desperately. And worse than that, he liked you. Liked how smart you were, liked your sense of humor, liked you. And some part of him felt bad for setting you up.

Because he hadn’t told you he was in the Navy. It wasn’t that he purposely didn’t tell you, he just hadn’t. And you were right, a lie by omission was still a lie.

So, yeah. You were probably a little validated in your ire. But god, if it wasn’t one of the hottest things Bradley had ever seen. Who knew a woman reading him for filth would be such a turn on?

“Nah,” Phoenix patted him on the back like you would a child who had just lost their first little league game, “I have a feeling Rooster’s going to see this one through.”

Jimmy brought over a fresh margarita for you and an old fashioned for Bradley and also left the check. He gave Bradley an encouraging smile and Bradley was glad Penny hadn’t been there to see - well, see whatever the fuck was going on with you and him. Because Penny would tell Mav and Mav would go all fatherly on him and tell him to be respectful towards girls, no matter your difference of opinion. He sighed.

“It’s like I still want to impress her - she just doesn’t -”

“- Want to be impressed by you?” Bradley nodded. “Do you actually like her or do you just like the challenge?”

“The challenge, obviously,” Hangman scoffed, “girl sounds like a bitch - guess she could be kinda hot, if she cut out that whole type a, stick up her ass shit -”

Bradley clenched his jaw and muttered: “- Fuck off, don’t be an ass.”

“Oh that’s right,” Hangman nudged Phoenix like she was in on it, though she looked almost as pissed off as Bradley, “girls like that have always been Rooster here’s kryptonite. Do you think that stems from your mommy or daddy issues?”

Just as he was about to go off on Hangman, Bradley noticed Phoenix’s eyes widened at something over his shoulder and he instinctively knew it was you. Fuck. He really hoped you hadn’t heard what Hangman had said.

“Just fuck off,” he muttered to both Hangman and Phoenix before you could get any closer. Phoenix sent a small, but kind smile your way, while Hangman just rolled his eyes and then they were gone.

You were quiet as you approached the bar, a timid smile on your face.

“Your buddies trying to get you to ditch me?” Your voice sounded softer, shy for the first time all night. “They scared I’m going to brainwash you or something? Make you drink my liberal tears?”

Bradley genuinely laughed and got a brief smile out of you. “Nah, they were more worried about me being too hard on you, at least my friend Natasha was - here,” he held his hand out to help you get back on the barstool.

You ducked your head as you muttered out a thanks. For the first time since your date had started, the conversation wasn’t flowing and the two of you sat side by side in silence having a couple sips of your drinks. Bradley kept thinking over what Hangman had said and hoped you hadn’t been able to hear him as you approached. Meanwhile, you rolled the tiny straw between your fingers as you took a sip of your margarita, thinking something over if the little crinkle between your brow was any indication.

You had definitely heard what Hangman had said about you. But that didn’t mean it was what Bradley had thought about you. He missed the you from earlier in the evening - the one who got the Wordle right in two tries that morning and relentlessly bragged about it, the one who he had made laugh so hard tears had sprang from your eyes when he told you about his run in with an old woman at the grocery store last week, the one whose entire face lit up when talking about something you were passionate about.

Sure, he liked arguing with you - and he was pretty sure you did too - but he didn’t want you to think this was a joke to him or anything like that.

Bradley took his eyes off the King’s game he wasn’t really watching on the TV above the bar and turned his body towards you. He said your name and lightly nudged your shoulder. Slowly, you turned your head, though not your body, to face him.

“Sorry about Hangman - Jake, that is. He’s not exactly who I’d go to for dating advice - pretty sure he hasn’t made a girl cum in about five years - something about seeing this girl for a couple months until they found out they were distant cousins or something?”

It wasn’t true - at least Bradley didn’t think so - but he got a small smile and slightly amused head shake out of you.

“Regardless of all of this, you shouldn’t have had to hear that, especially since I don’t -”

You fully turned to face him. “- Listen, Bradley,” you said a moment later, “I got dressed up for this, wore cute underwear, and even got a wax, so if this was a - a joke or if you don’t see this going forward in any way or - god, if you don’t even want to - look, I can just leave and we can pretend -”

“- No. We’re leaving.” He didn’t recognize his own voice. It was deep, commanding - dominant. And all you could do was lick your lips. “Now.”

With a smile on your face, you let him take you by your elbow and guide - read drag - you towards the exit, barely stopping to allow you to grab your clutch off the bar top. Knowing Hangman and Phoenix were no doubt watching the entire series of events unfold, Bradley threw his middle finger up over his shoulder, and then let the door close firmly behind his back.

It was quiet in the parking lot, just the hum of the chatter and music from inside the bar echoing across the pavement. Bradley held your hand as he walked to his car in the back corner of the lot. You approached the Bronco and leaned your back against it casually.

“So, what now?” You crossed your arms over your chest, inadvertently pushing your breasts together. “You gonna take me against the side of your truck like a big strong boy? Put me in my place?”

He took a step towards you, then another. He could feel the heat pouring off your body and watched the slight rise and fall of your chest.

“No, I’m gonna take you home and fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk straight in the morning, that sound good, sweetheart?” You nodded dumbly. “And for the record, it’s not a truck, it’s a Bronco.”

You giggled. It was cute and so out of place considering what Bradley had just said to you. God, you were cute. More than cute.

“Fine, as long as you don’t take us on the 405 to Brentwood…”

Bradley barked out a laugh at your joke. “You think you’re funny, don’t you?”

“I doubt my charm is what got me all the way here.” You placed your hands on his chest. He couldn’t tell if you were going to push him away or pull him closer.

“You’d be surprised…” he muttered.

And then, before he could overthink it, Bradley leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. For all his thoughts earlier in the evening, the kiss was surprisingly tender. You tasted like lime and tequila and smelled like summer.

His hands dug into your hips, pulling you even closer and you let out a gasp - a perfect, breathy, little gasp against him when he pressed himself against your core. Your arms wound themselves around his neck and he in turn picked you up slightly and leveraged you against the door of the Bronco with his weight. You yelped at the action.

“Ooof - that was - god.” You cut yourself off as Bradley started peppering kisses down your neck, behind your ear, across your jawline. Meanwhile, your own hands were sliding under the collar of his t-shirt and oxford, digging your nails into his shoulders.

“Now, sweetheart,” he says the term of endearment teasingly, “when you went to the bathroom earlier, you were gone for a while. Thought maybe you got lost or were busy with something else…”

You scoffed. “Please, I was trying to see if I could pick the lock on the bathroom window.”

“Whatever you have to tell yourself.” He started inching his hands up your thighs, higher and higher until he could feel the warmth radiating off you. Your legs wrapped around his waist on their own accord, leaving your barely clothed core pressed against the fly of his jeans. “But I bet if I slipped my hands underneath that cute underwear you mentioned earlier, I’d find this pussy soaking wet, hmmm? Lemme make it up to you? All those nasty things that bastard said about you - you know I didn’t agree with a single one, hmm?”

“I know - ohh,” you cried out as one of Bradley’s fingers slipped into your already dripping wet cunt, “god, f-fuck, Bradley.”

He clicked his tongue. “Uh uh uh, that’s Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw to you.” Even in the early throes of pleasure, you managed to glare at him. “Now, you gonna take my fingers like a good girl or not?”

You whimpered when he added a second, then a third. The stretch felt so good and you rolled your hips so he could get even deeper. You were panting against his neck, your feet barely touching the ground as Bradley fucked you with his fingers while his thumb circled your clit. Your breasts were heaving and straining against the fabric of your dress and he could only imagine what they would look like if you were bouncing on his cock.

“Who knew you were such a little slut? Fucking yourself on my fingers in a bar parking lot…”

“Bradley, I - ahhh, ahh - fuck, I hate you.” The words lacked any force behind them due to the moan you let out.

“Careful, sweetheart. I could make a real mess out of this pretty little dress of yours.” You found yourself nodding along, anything to keep him talking and keep his fingers inside you.

Bradley could feel you clenching around his fingers, which were buried all the way to his knuckles and absolutely slick with your cum. Fuck. Imagine if you weren’t so blissed out getting finger fucked and you could talk back at him? This time he let out a groan.

Maybe later.

“Bra-Bradley, I -” you cut yourself off with a moan that turned into a pitiful whimper. Your walls were tightening around him and he knew you were close. Fuck, he couldn’t wait to sneak a taste later.

With a final thrust of his fingers and a pinch to your clit, you came apart for him with a blissed out cry, tensing and then relaxing against him.

“Shh, shh, that’s a good girl, yeah? Such a good girl for me.” Your body was trembling with the aftershocks of your orgasm and you tucked your head into his neck, breathing in deeply. Your lips grazed a sensitive stretch of skin on his neck and he hissed.

“Come on, look at me…” Bradley said quietly, but firmly.

Once you lifted your head up, eyes wide and cheeks flushed, Bradley removed his fingers - carefully, so as to not make a mess of your pretty little dress. You whined at the loss, your pussy still clenching at nothing. He briefly brushed his fingertips across your lips to give you a taste of yourself, before he put both fingers in his own mouth and groaned.

You watched, transfixed, as he took them out with a resounding pop. “Fuck, sweetheart, you taste so good - here, open up.”

You did as he asked and instinctively started sucking on his fingers. He noticed you subtly rubbing your thighs together and applied the slightest bit of pressure with his other hand, which was on your shoulder and inching closer to your collarbone and neck.

Eventually, you had to breathe and Bradley pulled his now clean fingers out.

“Good girl. Now why don’t we head home before you really make a mess?” You nodded and gave him a bashful smile. God, you were so fucking perfect - which reminded him - “but first, I want those soaking wet panties of yours before we get in the car.”

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

The entire drive to his house was agony. Pure fucking agony. Bradley hadn’t been this tightly wound since his first deployment. Beside him, you appeared relatively unaffected, probably still experiencing the after effects of your orgasm, and were drawing invisible circles on your knee with your left hand. Your nails were painted bright red and looked sinful against your skin.

Suddenly, the Bronco hit a bump in the road and you both slightly jolted off your seats. You let out whimper, while Bradley was reminded of the white lace underwear shoved in his back pocket. He couldn’t wait to get another whiff of them.

The two of you rolled up to a stoplight, giving Bradley an opportunity to really look at you. The hand that had once been drawing circles on your knee was slowly inching higher up your thigh before it disappeared underneath the tiered skirt of your dress. You turned your head to look at him, a coy look on your face.

“Are we almost there? I thought you pilots drove as fast as you flew…”

He smirked, glad your spark was back. (Not that he didn’t like the little submissive display you’d put on in the parking lot.) “Almost there - don’t fucking tease me.”

With that, he swatted at the hand currently underneath your dress skirt. You pulled it back with a pout. “But Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw, I’m wetter than the Middle East before you and your little buddies purged it of oil.”

At that, Bradley barked out a laugh and the light changed. He was still chuckling as he passed through the intersection. “I’ll give you that one.”

You preened. “Plenty more where that came from - don’t forget I still don’t like you…” You both knew that wasn’t exactly true, but Bradley wasn’t going to say anything to the contrary.

A few moments later, the Bronco practically rolled into his driveway on two wheels. Thankfully, Bradley had left the porch light on so the house wasn’t entirely dark. You looked at the house critically and he desperately wanted you to like it.

It was important to him that you liked it.

The three bedroom, craftsman house had been built in the 1930s, but had been renovated before Bradley had bought it when his official transfer to North Island had gone through a couple months ago. It was set back a good distance from the tree lined street and had a nice lawn that laid way to a wide-set front porch. You were probably used to the manses dotting the streets of Coronado or Del Mar, but Bradley liked the tree lined streets and sense of community he had found in South Park.

“It’s nice, Bradley,” you said with a smile, sincere for the first time in awhile.

“Thanks.” He ducked his head, not wanting you to see how happy he was at your meager compliment. “Now come on, sweetheart.”

Without another word from you, he slid you across the bench seat and into his arms and then opened the door and got out of the car. You sat there, a little thrown and Bradley sighed. “Well, if I have to do everything…”

“Wha - oh my - Bradley!” you squeaked in surprise, as he picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder. He chuckled and shut the door with his hip. “You - you oafish man! If you don’t put me down I’ll - I’ll -”

“- You’ll what?” He smacked your bare ass as he walked up the front steps and headed over to the front door. “Sweetheart, I don’t really think you’re in the position to be making demands.”

In turn, you smacked his back. “And you would know all about that - making demands. Hostage negotiations, CIA blacksites - mmmhh!”

He slapped you again and felt his cock twitch when you moaned. God, you had such a smart little mouth on you.

“Alright, now you gotta be quiet unless you want all my neighbors to see you like this - ass out, marked red by my hands. Is that what you want?”

“No…”

“Good girl.” You wiggled your ass and this time it was Bradley’s turn to moan. “Come on, let’s get you inside.”

He fished his house keys out of his pants - accidentally grazing his hand against the pocket holding your panties first - and then unlocked the door. He kicked it shut and locked it, then turned on the light on the hall table before he even contemplated putting you down. It felt like you were trying to turn your head around or at least pick it up, probably to get a look at the place. Eventually, and with another smack on the ass, Bradley put you down.

Your chest was heaving and your hair was all over the place. You quickly tried to fix your hair in the mirror hanging above the hall table while Bradley threw his wallet and keys into a bowl on the same table and toed off his shoes. He briefly glanced at you in the mirror when his eyes fell on something reflecting light on the mantle in his living room - his gold plaque from the uranium enrichment mission was proudly perched for all to see.

Including you.

Bradley could already hear the teasing comments coming - what’s that? a participation award? - and resolved to distract you before you caught a glimpse at it. Luckily, you were both horny as fuck, so it wasn’t exactly hard to think of a distraction.

He slipped behind you and brushed your hair over one shoulder and started pressing featherlight kisses down your neck, keeping eye contact with you in the mirror the entire time. You leaned back against his chest and sighed, before you turned around and pulled him in for a kiss. He could have sworn he could still taste your sweetness from earlier when you’d sucked his fingers clean, but that may have just been wishful thinking.

Slowly, and without breaking your frantic kiss, he walked the two of you through the house and towards his bedroom. He only stubbed his toe once and you laughed against his lips when you let out a grunt of pain.

“Watch it, lieutenant. Thought you had your sea legs?”

He chose to ignore your comment and turned on another light, creating a soft glow in his bedroom. You took off his oxford, throwing it onto the chair holding other various button downs and Hawaiian shirts in the corner. Your hands slid underneath his white t-shirt, roving over his abs, dragging your short, but sharp nails across the skin. He groaned.

“Navy’s good for one thing, I guess,” you muttered against Bradley’s neck while your hands ran over his body.

He pushed you back slightly, so you fell onto the bed, propped up by your elbows. “Only one thing?”

You spread your legs, fully taking advantage of the fact that you didn’t have any underwear on. In fact, it was still in Bradley’s back pocket and there it would stay. “Well, that might not be not true. I bet you probably get loads of discounts and shit like that - wait do you have a J Crew discount? I can only imagine there’s nothing like getting rewarded for colonizing and exploiting half the world fuck - Bradley!”

You cried out when he grabbed your legs and pulled you to the edge of his bed. He’d perfectly positioned himself between your legs, leaving your absolutely glistening cunt on full display. Bradley would be - admittedly - shocked if there wasn’t a puddle of slick on the passenger seat of his car right now. You bit your lip, no doubt thinking you knew what he was going to do next.

But instead, he tightened his grip around your ankles and then let go of them a moment later, so you were sitting up perfectly on the edge of the bed.

“Awww, sweetheart. You didn’t think I was gonna go down on you with that stunt you played in the car, did you? Only good girls get their pussy eaten.”

You whined and Bradley figured you would’ve stomped your foot too had you been able. “Tell me - tell me how to be a good girl? I want to be a good girl for you.”

Oh fuck him. He’d come in his pants like a twelve year old if he didn’t hurry this along.

“Get on your knees.”

You didn’t have to be told twice and sunk to the floor in front of him. Your bare ass was resting on the backs of your feet while your dress fanned prettily over your knees.

He clicked his tongue. “While that does make for a pretty picture, I believe I said on your knees, sweetheart.”

“Sorry, lieutenant commander.” Your eyes were wide as you peered up at him and Bradley hoped you’d try and keep eye contact with him the entire time you had his cock in your mouth.

“Good girl.” He cupped your cheek and then swept your hair out of the way and untied the ribbon holding your open-back dress together.

Though your dress didn’t quite fall down right away, it did gape open to your shoulders and was easy to slide off the rest of the way. The ruffles and fabric bunched at your hips due to your kneeling position, leaving your breasts on full display.

“So pretty.” You ducked your head, but he tipped your chin back up so you had to look at him. “Knew you were hiding something under that pretty dress.”

You bit your lip, a genuine smile flitting across your face. “I bought it special for you - for our date.”

“Then I’ll try my best not to ruin it. Maybe I’ll aim for those gorgeous tits of yours instead.”

With slightly tremulous hands, you unbuttoned Bradley’s jeans and then dragged your index finger - with the fucking red nail polish - along the zipper. His cock practically jumped at your touch and he held back a groan. God, he was going to finish way too fucking quickly. Probably another thing you’d tease him about. (Oddly, that didn’t help him, if anything it turned him on even more.)

You pulled the zipper slowly and then started to pull Bradley’s jeans off, but he got impatient and did it himself. His cock was already erect in his boxer briefs and you just stared at it, a wicked smile on your face, for a moment before tilting your head up.

“Got to say, I’m a little disappointed. Thought for sure you’d have American flag boxers on.” You reached out to palm him over the soft fabric and Bradley couldn’t help but buck his hips into your hand. “Somebody’s eager.”

“Well, not everyone got taken care of in a parking lot…” He forgot the rest of his sentence because you had just slipped his boxer briefs off and his cock sprang out.

You licked your lips and peered up at him. “Bet you’re the pride of the Navy with this.” You leaned in and blew a stream of air on him and then pressed a light kiss to the tip. Bradley shuddered. You swirled your tongue around his cock, making sure to flick your tongue along the underside. He then gently guided himself into your mouth and you salivated more around him. He moaned - deep and guttural - as you fully took him in your mouth, while your head bobbed up and down. Of course you were good at giving head. Of course.

“Glad to know that smart mouth has other uses.”

You moaned and Bradley quickly realized the futility of his plan to try and last longer. He groaned and his shoulders sagged in pleasure as you worked him, hands doing what your mouth wasn’t able to as you grasped the top of his shaft and balls.

At one point, you changed tactics and hollowed out your cheeks and sucked. Bradley couldn’t help but bring his hand around the back of your head and buck his hips, getting faster and harder with each passing thrust.

“That’s a good girl, you’re taking me so good, sweetheart.”

The praise spurred you on, your enthusiasm only getting better with every passing second and Bradley felt that tell-tale tugging in his gut that he was close. It was like you had something to prove - you took him deeper, your hands became more skilled and dexterous, your moans more sinful, your eyes wide and eager as you peered up at him.

“Fuck, I’m so - close. I’m gonna cum.” Bradley said your name and your hands dug into his thighs. “If you don’t tell me otherwise, I’m gonna cum in that pretty mouth of yours.”

You pulled back just enough to say: “Please, just wanna take care of you.”

And that did it. With a final thrust of his hips into your sweet mouth, he spilled himself inside you. Like a good girl, you swallowed everything he gave you. Every last drop. You looked so proud of yourself.

You wiped at your mouth with the back of your hand and slowly rose from your knees. You were completely naked, your dress pooled down at your feet and he couldn’t resist roving his eyes up and down your body. God, you were so gorgeous.

You were both breathing heavily, but he didn’t hesitate before grabbing your chin and kissing you deeply, tasting himself on your tongue. When he eventually pulled away, your eyes met, and he rested his forehead against yours.

“Fuck me, Bradley - please?”

You said his name. Not lieutenant commander or asshole or some other slightly condescending moniker. You said Bradley. As in you wanted him - the guy who had originally asked you out. The one you had tried so hard to impress all those days and nights spent texting.

And who was he to say no to that?

He grabbed you by the hand and laid you down on the bed, your hair fanning out on the crisp white pillowcases and sheets he had put on freshly that morning. You sighed as you burrowed your face in the sheets. “Kiss me.”

Who was he to refuse you? But instead of pressing his lips to your own, he went lower and wrapped his mouth around your breasts which had taunted him all evening, always straining to break free of that gorgeous dress now thrown on his floor somewhere. You arched your back to grant him better access and then wrapped your leg around his hip, digging your ankle into his ass.

His dick was hard again, pressed against your wetness, reminding him that he hadn’t touched you there since you had been in the parking lot. God, it seemed like hours ago.

“Bradley,” you sighed as he kissed down your stomach to right below your belly button. “Need you inside me - now.”

He groaned. “You gotta be patient, sweetheart. Wanna take my time with you now.” You whined, clearly not liking that answer. Bradley slid his hand between your bodies and started playing with your clit. You sighed and he then slid one finger into you, then another, crooking them both as he dragged them down your walls. He could tell the teasing was driving you crazy, but he kept at it, bringing you closer to your release and then pulling back before you could find it.

“Please,” you whimpered sometime later. It was a simple, one word response, but it proved to be his undoing.

Bradley slid his hand down to his cock, pumping it a couple times before he lined himself up and slid into you. You both moaned at the contact and Bradley started to find a rhythm that would suit the two of you. It took some direction from you both, but you eventually figured it out.

“How ‘bout you tell me more things you hate about me?”

You turned your head into the pillows, muffling a moan as Bradley snapped his hips to meet yours. “Ahhhhh, That Hawaiian shirt on your chair is - is abso-lutely h-heinous -”

“- Not like that.” He pulled one of your legs over his shoulder and you keened, loving the new angle. His dick plowed into you relentlessly and Bradley savored every thrust, loving the way your cunt tightened around him each time.

You grabbed his shoulders, bringing the two of you chest to chest, so you could pull him in for a kiss. It was frantic and hot, all teeth and sighs against each other. The feel on your breasts against his chest was another sensation he didn’t want to miss out on any longer. Fuck, you had gorgeous tits. The perfect size for him. Bradley pulled his head back, but didn’t slow his pace.

“Want my girl on top, want those gorgeous tits in my face as I fuck her.”

Your back arched at his words and before you could say anything, he flipped the two of you over so now you were on top. “Ohhhhh,” you sighed as you took his cock to the hilt before you started riding him in earnest.

You pushed your hair back and smiled down at him wickedly. “Do you know how many,” you started, seemingly just remembering his comment from earlier, “CO2 emissions that - fuck, Bradley, right there - that stupid fucking plane of yours emits ev - everyday? Fucking des-troy-ing the environment - ahhh,” you broke off with a sigh.

“No, tell me?” Your breasts were bouncing right in front of his face and Bradley reached out to grab one with his right hand, keeping the left firmly on your hip. He pinched your nipple and you keened.

“I - I can’t remem -” you panted, “- it’s a - ahhh, fuck - it’s a lot.”

The absolutely blissed out expression on your face made him groan. “God, look at you now, all cock dumb for me. What happened to that smart girl from before?”

You took a moment to gain your thoughts. “She wasn’t getting fucked so good back then.”

“So good, huh?”

“Bradley.” Your head was thrown back in ecstasy, but you still managed to get another question out. “How did you vote in the last three presidential elections?” He slowed his pace and you glanced down at him. “Wait, are you registered to vote?”

Bradley actually paused, fully in possession of his faculties. “You know, I don’t think I changed my registration over yet from Virginia -”

“- So help me fucking god, Bradley, I will jump off your dick right now if you -”

“- Obama.” Thrust. Moan. Pull Back. “Clinton.” Thrust. Moan. Pull Back. “And then Biden.” Thrust. Moan. Pull back.

“Good boy,” you just managed to get out before Bradley really felt himself losing control.

He wanted to - no, he needed to finish inside of you. He couldn’t bear the thought of flipping you over and pulling out, only to spend himself all over your stomach - seemed like a waste. Neither of you had the forethought to get a condom out of his nightstand.

“Are you on the pill?”

“IUD,” you barely got out, “Can’t have any of your military brats running around now, can I?”

Thank fuck. He wanted to come inside you so badly. Fill you up and then watch his cum drip out of you. God, he was so close. He just wanted to flip you over again, so this time you were on your back.

“Gotta wait a couple more dates before we start talking about kids, sweetheart - god, it’s like your cunt was made for me -”

“- Jesus fuck, Bradley! Just come inside me before I -” The most beautiful moan he had ever heard interrupted what was sure to be another diatribe of yours. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck -”

And then it was like nothing he had ever experienced before. With one final thrust, his orgasm crashed through him and he spent himself inside you. A moment later, you followed, your body briefly tensing and then you came with a cry.

You collapsed against his chest, spent - the two of you a sweaty mess of limbs and slick between your thighs as you both rode out the aftershocks. You glanced up at him, resting your chin on his chest, and gave him a look of pure adoration.

“There’s my good girl,” he said, getting a winning smile out of you. Somehow, you managed to pull yourself up and give him a kiss, less heated than the previous ones you had shared, but no less meaningful, before you rolled over onto Bradley’s other side and slipped under the top sheet.

You both laid there, side by side, chests rising and falling heavily. Fuck. Neither of you knew what to say - if there even was something to say. It had never been like that with anyone else - ever.

“I still don’t like that you’re in the military,” you said, not turning to face him.

The matter of fact way you said it made Bradley chuckle, which then turned into a proper laugh and you soon joined in.

“Sorry,” you said through your laughter, “just had to make sure that was clear.”

“And I’ll just try to forget you asked me who I voted for in the last election while I was literally inside you.” You groaned and hid underneath the sheet. “Just so you know, that was my honest answer. You can look up my voting record if you really want.”

You peeked your head out from under the sheet. “And you’ll promise to change your registration to California?”

Bradley chuckled. “I’ll go this week.”

“Good.” You smiled shyly at him and then propped yourself up onto your left elbow, peering at him curiously. “So, how do we really feel about the stache?” You brought your finger up to his mouth and dragged it across his mustache and then to his lips.

Bradley leaned back on his elbows and glared at you. “We like the stache…”

“Okay, sure, sure.” You scrunched your nose and tilted your head back and forth a couple times. “For now.”

“You’ll change your mind after riding my face.”

You pulled the bedsheet up higher on your chest, but tangled your legs with his. “Planning another round already, huh?”

He kissed your nose. “You know us military guys, ready with a moment’s notice.” You yawned. “Or maybe not…”

“Sorry,” you started sitting up, “I was busy all week with that project I mentioned.” He nodded, remembering the couple times you had brought it up earlier in the week via text. “And didn’t get much sleep. Anyway, I guess I should get going…”

Despite his best efforts, his face fell. “Oh. Right, yeah.”

“Yeah…” But you didn’t move. “This was -”

He scooted over towards you and laid his hand on your thigh. “ - You can stay here tonight - I mean, if you want to? Like by the time you get an Uber and then get back to your place - you’ll be out like an hour of sleep already.”

You glanced around the room and bit your lip. “I don’t know - I figured you didn’t - I mean, I don’t know if you want -” you cut yourself off, seemingly not wanting to say anything more for the moment.

“It’s no big, really.” You still seemed unsure and Bradley hoped he didn’t sound too eager.

“Okay - yeah.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded. “Cool. Uhh is it okay if I just use the bathroom…”

Bradley nodded readily. “Yeah, uhh, it’s down the hall, second door on the right.”

“Cool.” You tiptoed over to the leather and oak chair in the corner that held Bradley’s mountain of shirts. You grabbed the button down he had worn earlier that evening and threw it on, quickly fastening the middle two buttons. “I’ll just,” you thumbed over your shoulder and scampered out of the room.

“I’ll be here,” Bradley said to the empty room.

Fuck.

-----------

Saturday mornings were one of Bradley’s favorite times of the week. He allowed himself to sleep in a little later - nothing crazy, just nine o’clock - and then prepared himself a well balanced breakfast of eggs, bacon, and toast with one of those fancy cold brew coffees he had finally figured out how to make.

He so rarely allowed himself that time during the week - the ability to ‘just do’ and not over think everything. To do whatever he wanted. But that Saturday morning was different.

Because that Saturday you were there.

His arm was thrown over your stomach, leaving you close, but not too close to him. You slept on your back, while he slept on his side. Your sheets had barely moved during the night, still wrapped tightly around your breasts, while Bradley’s were half kicked to the end of the bed and half bunched between the two of you.

There were a smattering of bite marks across your neck and chest and Bradley wondered how the rest of your body under the sheet had fared. He stretched slightly, hoping not to wake you yet and felt a pleasing ache in his thighs. Beside him, he watched you shift slightly in your sleep and twitch your nose. He quickly shut his eyes, knowing you were waking up and didn’t want to be caught staring.

You let out a blissful sigh and burrowed yourself into the pillows on your side of the bed. As you stretched, your leg grazed against Bradley’s and you let out a little gasp and quickly yanked it away.

Figuring that was a good excuse to wake up, he rolled over to face you and let out a little groan of his own, but didn’t open his eyes yet.

“Morning,” he rasped as he opened his eyes. You were staring at him, looking like a deer in headlights. “How’d you sleep?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but didn’t say anything for a moment. “Uhh, fine - thanks.” You cleared your throat. “Do you know what time it is?”

Bradley rolled over to glance at the old fashioned alarm clock on his mid century modern nightstand. “Just after nine. Do you want -”

“- Oh. I guess I should head out then…”

He tried not to look too disappointed. “Oh, yeah.” He sat up in bed, leaning against the pillows piled up against his headboard. “Uhhh, I think your clothes are over there.”

You slipped out of bed, taking the top sheet with you to preserve your modesty he imagined, and made your way to the foot of the bed where your dress had wound up last night. You managed to put it on without letting the sheet slip and swept your hair out of the way to tie the ribbon at the back that Bradley had loved undoing hours ago.

Once you finished, you looked around the rest of the room, but avoided eye contact with him. He had a feeling he knew what you were looking for - your underwear.

He cleared his throat. “Uhh, it’s in my jeans. The back pocket.”

You went over to the pile of his own clothes on the floor and picked up his jeans, finding your white lace underwear in the back pocket, like he had said. For some reason, Bradley glanced away while you slipped them on. He turned back around and gave you a small smile, but found that you were already staring at him, an unreadable expression on your face. You shook yourself out of whatever trance you had been in and made your way over towards his side of the bed. You cleared your throat before speaking.

“Look, I’m sorry, Bradley. But I don’t know if I see this as a long term thing?” You leaned down to give him a kiss on the forehead. It was only slightly condescending. “But if you ever want to ever want to fuck again, let me know?”

And before he could even get out a response, you were gone, a trail of perfume in your wake and Bradley was half hard again. He leaned back against his headboard and let out a deep sigh.

Oh.

He had thought you’d both come to some sort of truce last night. You’d slept over for fuck’s sake. Was it so out of the realm of possibility that you would want to see him again? And for more than just sex at that? For a moment he just sat there, staring at his hands clasped on top of his duvet. Was this how every girl felt after Hangman did the ol’ two pump dump on them? It made him rethink every date or one night stand he’d had in the last fifteen or so years - was this how it felt to be ghosted? Wasn’t that what people were calling it now? God, it was fucking shitty -

Suddenly, there was a commotion coming from the hallway and Bradley belatedly realized he hadn’t heard the front door close. The sound of sandals slapping on the hardwood echoed through the house and you suddenly burst through his bedroom door, a giddy smile on your face.

“Oh my god, your face!” You giggled, looking downright gleeful.

The realization that he had just been had - mercilessly, truly he would never live it down - just hit Bradley.

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” He tried to keep a straight face, but couldn’t hide his smile or the relief he had felt.

You smiled in turn, looking carefree and beautiful with your messy morning hair and post sex glow. You took a couple steps towards him and the bed and he reached out to absentmindedly finger the hem of your dress.

“I think we’ve established that I’m actually hilarious.”

“Tell me a joke then - come on, right now. Tell me a joke?”

You tapped your index finger on your chin - once, twice. “Hmmmm, what about the fact that you work -”

“- For the Navy?” he finished with you. You nodded, that giddy smile back on your face. “Not your best, but we can work on that.”

“You know, I’ve been thinking…”

“Smart girl.”

You hummed in response and leaned forward to play with his hair, pulling it slightly at the roots. “So you’ve told me. But I’ve been thinking, have you ever thought about a career change?”

Bradley sighed, humoring you. “Can’t say I have, but what do you have in mind, sweetheart?”

“Well, I think I could proudly fuck an astronaut - oh my god, Bradley!” You let out a shriek when he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you onto the bed next to him.

He leaned over you, propped up on his right elbow. “An astronaut, huh?”

You nodded, now laying flat on your back. “Unlike your obnoxious friend from last night -”

“- Bagman,” he purposely gave you the wrong name, hoping it would stick and you’d earnestly call Hangman that to his face the next time you saw him.

“Bagman,” you repeated, “right, well, unlike Bagman from last night, you’re actually very intelligent.”

“Oh, I’m very intelligent, huh?”

You ignored him. “You already fly in that death trap plane and can handle all the g-force so the astronaut training programs shouldn’t be - don’t look at me like that, all surprised I know what g-force is, I’m not an idiot.”

Bradley couldn’t help but smile. “Sorry, sorry. Go on.”

“And -” you sat up in your excitement, “- now this is the most important thing - you won’t be actively contributing to the exploitation of foreign nations by exporting their natural resources for the benefit of the US economy.”

You looked so pleased with yourself that Bradley couldn’t help the proud smile from stretching across his face. “How about I think about it? That good with you?”

“That would be nice…” you tried to sound nonchalant about it, but he could tell you were pleased. “And what do you want in return?”

He scoffed in mock outrage and sat up beside you. “Me? Want something in return? Never?” You shot him an amused look. “Hmm, how about this?” He grabbed your hand and played with your fingers. “You go out with me again?”

A smile crept across your face and you ducked your head. “I think that’s a fair trade - provided I get to pick what we do?”

“Oh, of course,” he said with mock solemnity.

“Then I accept.”

You gave him a quick peek on the lips, but Bradley pulled you back in for a deeper kiss. You responded in kind, leaning into him and pressing your body against his. He wasn’t entirely sure how serious you were about this whole astronaut thing - he doubted you were - but he was committed to making this work between the two of you.

If your thoughts on the military were that important to you, then you and Bradley would work something out together. He wasn’t about to give up on this just yet. He wrapped his hands around your hips, right at the top of your ass, and you squirmed against him, never breaking your kiss. For a moment, he let himself get lost in a daydream with you, of him going off to space and you - hold on just a minute...

He pulled his lips away from yours. “- Wait, wait - it’s not okay for me to exploit foreign nations, but it’s okay for me to potentially colonize space?”

You straddled his waist, barely moving your lips away from his neck as you gave a reply. “Shh, shh, we can work out the details later…”

THE END

[Part 1.5] [Part 2.1]

#bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #rooster imagine #top gun imagine #top gun smut #writing #bradley and smart aleck #bradley fic #top gun

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hockeybabe · 1 year

Note

hii can u write happy ending angst w Trevor pls 🙏

Birthday Blues|| T. Zegras

Gif not mine

Pairings: Trevor Zegras x gf!reader

Summary: Trevor missed your birthday and he wants to make it up to you.

Warnings: angst, tears, yelling, Trevor being a dick, angst with a happy ending, alcohol use, reader is 21.

Word count: 1.3k

Note: like two people wanted angst with Trevor so here it is.

It was your twenty-first birthday and your friends had this whole surprise planned at yours and Trevor’s apartment. Although you knew about it, the only thing they didn’t tell you was who was going to be there and what was going down. It was also your champagne birthday. You’ve been dating Trevor since you were eighteen, after having a crush on him since elementary school.

You quickly hit the spotlight right away when you were first spotted by fans. You and Trevor were known for posting the most ridiculous things about each other. Most of them were photos where you were both surprised, but fans they lived for it. You both loved each other tremendously, and it was like you two were attached to the hip.

You were getting ready for your birthday party; you were wearing a red pantsuit with a red corset and some black heels. Your hair was lightly curled, and you had neutral makeup on with a signature red lip. You looked at the clock, seeing that it was already eight o’clock, and you could hear commotion coming from downstairs because of the guests.

Lola knocked on the door, asking if you were ready. You’d been friends since you were in dippers. When she opened the door, she looked at you in awe. Lola had never seen you so happy, but her worries took over. Trevor is supposed to be your surprise, but he was late. “Everything okay Lola?” You ask as Lola snaps out of it.

“Everything’s perfect and you look amazing.” She says smiling brightly at you. You blush at her kind words as she takes your hand and leads you down the stairs. You look around as everyone screams “Happy Birthday.” You see, a couple of Trevor’s teammates and their girlfriends along with some of your long-time friends.

You look around to find Trevor, but he’s nowhere in sight. “Where’s Trevor?” You ask Lola. Lola winces at the question, “Umm look Y/n. He’s not coming.” She tells you slowly. You feel your heart fall. “How do you know that?” You ask her, feeling tears brim your eyes as the room falls quiet.

Lola pulls out her phone showing you texts between the two. They started from agreeing to surprise you to him saying he wasn’t coming with no reason. You give the phone back Lola. “You should leave.” You whisper to everyone. “Y/n maybe we should-” “NO I WANT YOU TO LEAVE!” You shout at everyone, solemnly everyone left.

Lola and Mason try to stay longer but you practically pushed them out the door. You slide down the door crying ruining your makeup. Pulling out your phone you try to find Trevor’s contact through blurred eyes. Clicking on his contact you try to contact as it goes to ring it stops going straight to voicemail.

Tears fall from your eyes faster and all you could do was wait for Trevor to come home. Getting off from the floor you head back upstairs to take off your smeared make up and then heading to bed not bothering to get out of your pantsuit. The tears continue to fall as you close your eyes hopping to fall into a dreamless sleep.

Trevor, on the other hand, knew you’d be mad by the time he got home. He wished that you didn’t view him as an asshole, but he knew better than to miss your birthday to get you a gift. Trevor had been looking for months for a Pandora silver necklace with a custom-made jewel with your name on it.

Trevor hadn’t received the necklace by its originally due date, so he went to go get it himself. He waited at the store for hours after they couldn’t find the box, and then they didn’t assemble the necklace at all. By the time he got home, it was eleven o’clock at night.

Trevor took notice of the fact that the apartment didn’t have a single light on, and the only source was the night's moon. Slowly he walked up the stairs to your guys’ room, opening the door, and he sees you lying on the bed in your red pantsuit and heels scattered on the floor. The only source of light he has is the lamp to your right.

Trevor closes the door behind him and takes quiet steps toward you. Once he makes it, he sits at the edge of the bed, running his hand up and down your arm. His eyes wonder all over your face as guilt fills him, knowing that those tears were because of him. "Baby…" He whispers to you, nudging your ever so slights.

You mumble in your sleep, wiggling your body around to get more comfortable. Trevor repeats himself once more, and slowly your eyes flutter, adjusting to the light of the lamp you left on by accident. Once your eyes are aware of their surroundings, you find yourself looking straight at Trevor.

A whirl of emotions rushes toward you, all leading to tears. You sit up, resting your back on the headboard, and just stare at your hands. "Look, Y/n…" Trevor starts, trying to grab your hand. You pull back and look up at him. "Save it." You tell him sternly. "You missed the one day I craved you’d be here. But no, you were too busy slinging whatever the fuck you were doing." You sneer, having no remorse in your eyes.

"Y/n, just let me tell-" "SHUT UP!" You scream as Trevor’s eyes grow wide. You weren’t one to yell, and if you were angry, you walked away, but he had missed your birthday. Trevor could miss a whole lot of events, but he never forgot your birthday.

"All I wanted was for you to be here! Every other birthday I’ve had, you’ve been there! You miss everything else, but you promised to never miss this day!" You shout, pointing a finger at his chest. It wasn’t fair that you did all for Trevor and he didn’t do half. Hockey consumed him, and he left you as the last of his priorities.

"Shh, baby, shhh, I’m sorry." Trevor says, pulling you into his chest. You find immediate comfort in him snuggling your body into his chest and burying your head into the crook of his neck. Trevor uses one of his free hands to smooth your hair out as he repeats I'm sorry into your ear.

You didn’t want to seek comfort in him, but he was your longtime best friend and your boyfriend; he was the one person who knew everything about you, and it’s hard letting that person go. "Baby, can you look at me?" Trevor says tickling your ear. You pull your head off him and look into his eyes while whipping the tears from your face.

Trevor reaches for a bag on the nightstand with the label Pandora. A questionable look washes your face as a weak smile breaks out on Trevor’s face. "What is this?" You ask him. "I tried to explain, but you were upset." He answers, placing the bag in your hands while grabbing your thighs and putting you on his lap.

"I don’t understand." You say looking between the bag and him. "They didn’t have it ready when they were supposed to. So it took me longer than I wished." Trevor explains. "But open it." He urges eyes brightening. You open it slowly, grabbing the box inside.

As you open it, you notice a necklace with a name on it. More importantly, your name. You gasp at the gift. "Trevor, this is too much." You say, trying to hide the gift. "No." He says. "You're not mad anymore, so it’s not." You give him a look before pulling the necklace out and putting it on.

"How does it look?" You ask him. "Why don’t you see yourself?" He answers, taking your hands and leading you to the washroom. You look into the mirror. "Trevor, you didn’t tell me I looked like a monster." You shriek seeing yourself in the mirror.

“Yeah, my monster.”

#hockey #hockey players #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #imagine #trevor zegras #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras imagine #trevor zegras fluff #trevor zegras angst #anaheim ducks #nhl x reader #nhl angst #fluff #angst

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stickthisbig · 11 months

Text

I have no idea what this is but I decided to write down my grand theory of Star Wars and how authorship affects the ways in which stories are good and bad? Come for media critique, stay for the analogy at the very end about how Star Wars is like college, also there's gifs

The original trilogy is a series of derivative works. That's not a pejorative, but a description of their content and structure; they are constructions that use existing pieces to tell a new story. They are samurai movies, they are meditations on Joseph Campbell. They are the work of a film nerd trying to create a story that is Everything. There's nothing novel about the storytelling of the original trilogy; it was just particularly well executed, because they were made with love by a craftsman, surrounded by a team who kept him from giving in to the worst of his narrative excesses (most notably but not limited to Marcia Lucas).

There's a lot of No Reason in the original trilogy. Why's Darth Vader so strong in the Force? No reason. It doesn't have time to delicately explain everything, so it relies on the audience's understanding of the shape of the story to fill in the gaps. It's the time in the story for someone to fall in love, so a romance plotline it shall be. The author is trying to do something, and he successfully does it.

The prequel trilogy represents an older creator for whom derivative works were not enough, who had been creatively stifled by the very thing he created. (I strongly recommend Patrick H Willems's series about Frances Ford Coppola if you want a really interesting take on George Lucas and the tragedy of his career.) Extremely importantly, they represent a creator with almost unlimited cash and no one to tell him to tone it down.

Everything that is bad about the prequel trilogy is because they were made with a vision by a creator who was trying to do something. George Lucas has six hours and fifty-eight minutes of material prepared about diplomacy, representative democracy, and how all unchecked power is always all bad and by god we are all gonna sit here until he finishes it. The writing is so clunky because it is not there to build character or relationships; it is there to convey information. The sequences with the Gungans are such a mess because they're the injection of (very inadvisable) comic relief into a story that is not supposed to have any relief at all.

One of the worst sins of the prequel trilogy is the rejection of No Reason. It continually poses questions that do not need answers and then takes pains to answer them. Why's Darth Vader so strong in the Force? His mother conceived him as a virgin birth because of the Force, by way of midichlorians, which as we all know are the powerhouse of the cell. It is such a deeply unsatisfying answer, but George Lucas seems incredibly sincere about the fact that this is important. He is trying to position his derivative work within a new fandom context that conceives of his work as wholly original, and the wild thing is, I think George Lucas always thought all of this and just wasn't allowed to put it in. Improbably, the problem is not that he hasn't thought enough about his own lore, as a common charge goes; he appears to have thought about it way too much.

I have to confess to not being a prequel trilogy fan, but probably the single biggest thing to come out of it is Obi-Wan. Ewan McGregor almost instantly became the canonical version of the character. It's because the same thing that made it bad also made it good. It's a story that is trying to do something, and that is opening wide an almost Stendhal-syndrome-esque array of locations and people and stories. Fuck yes I want to hear everything about the person Alec Guinness used to be when he was young and badass, tell me everything about the weird desert guy. Of course I wanna go to Space Italy and see what the galaxy was like before it got dicked up. Sinister rise to power of Darth Vader's master? Check. Seeing the evil enemy built as a series of actions is the shit prequels are made for.

When the prequel trilogy is boring, it's because the pacing is fucking awful, especially in Revenge of the Sith. The dizzying array of new stuff is never boring, and you can all fight me on Kamino being one of the best planets in the whole series. When it's good to be in George Lucas's mind palace, it's extremely good. For better or worse, he did it. He gave his almost seven hour lecture, he said what he had to say, and he left.

And then we move forwards in time, into an era of Star Wars as a strategy rather than a story.

(I didn't see Solo, so it's not gonna be in here. Neither are any of the TV shows or the EU, because I have other shit to do with my life.)

The Force Awakens was not the first Star Wars film that was made by someone else; the authorship of The Empire Strikes Back is complicated- George Lucas kind of managed to ghostwrite his own movie?- but he definitely didn't direct it. Empire was very much still a Lucas production in which he was intimately involved.

The Force Awakens has a point, but it ultimately doesn't do anything.

It resets everything back to the start: an evil empire represented by British people in suits come to power; three heroes arise; a mentor who's incredibly important apparently despite only knowing the heroes for five minutes is murdered by a cloaked Force user; something is blown up. It is meant to stoke the fires of nostalgia, and it provides nothing substantive in terms of plot. In fact, it represents a retrograde movement. It is a very fun watch and a movie with absolutely nothing to say, at least nothing that wasn't written into the series thirty years beforehand.

It's not a surprise that, since it's just meant to get people hype and then serve them what they already know, the best thing it provided were its new characters. I was so stoked to see a Black person in a Star Wars movie; we got three new main characters and not a white man among them?? But let's fuckin' table that shit, because we all know what's coming.

[I was gonna put in a Kylo Ren gif but he looked like such a dipshit in all of them, you're welcome]

Actually I lied, I forgot that what came next was Rogue One. The purpose of the film is to make a war movie about Star Wars and like many/most war films, what the movie is trying to do is meditate on the duality created by the futility of war and the value of sacrifice, it fills in a blank in canon but is really a tone piece meant to make you have feelings and reflect, I watched it once and it was so touching and horrible that I've never been able to watch it again, 10/10 no notes

And then we have The Last Jedi, which is weird.

The Last Jedi represents a step back to a craftsman at the helm, and the exact same shit happened again.

It shouldn't have, because it happened again in a completely different way! The Last Jedi is a singular vision with one creative direction, and that is the cause of everything that is bad and everything that is good about it, but Rian Johnson wanted to do something radically different than George Lucas. He's not interested in giving you his Star Wars lecture; he's interested in breaking Star Wars open, thrusting it bodily in a new direction. The Last Jedi represents at least as much movement as The Empire Strikes Back.

So it's not like a shock that the movie was wildly divisive, and lists of the best and worst things are the same items shuffled around. I honestly think Admiral Holdo's death is the finest moment in the entire trilogy, in terms of visuals and in terms of emotional impact. I fuckin' love that Luke was sitting on PTSD Island sulking, because it's some Luke shit to do. "Let the past die. Kill it if you have to" got me HYPE to see where this would go. I wanted to go on that ride. I've loved Star Wars since I was a tiny child, and I wanted to go on a journey into something that was entirely fresh.

Other people hated all of these things, and honestly in this case, I don't agree but I can't say they're wrong. Wanting Rose to be deleted from the series simply for using oxygen is racist. Wanting Snoke to have had more impact on the story is a difference of opinion. Either you were interested in this ride or you weren't, and you're not a bad person for not wanting that out of your Star Wars.

But on the other hand, it's not a very good movie.

The problems that make it not very good are the result of having one guy at the wheel. It's clumsily made. It feels like it ends three times before it actually does. The Canto Bight sequences are the work of someone who doesn't want them to be in there, and somebody who could play ball would have finessed the story to make them organic. Some of the CGI work represents a lapse in professional judgment. The Force dyad stuff does not make any sense at all, because it plays like somebody who couldn't really explain a thing they were doing but refuses to stop doing it.

It's so good when it's good. I just wish it had had another screenwriter who could have fixed what was bad.

I didn't care for Rise of Skywalker.

By the time it came out, I was experiencing a kind of numbness surrounding Star Wars; not literally, because I got my tattoos finished up just before it came out. I didn't have any idea what was about to happen. There were a lot of rumors circulating about the extent to which things had gotten rewritten, but it was pretty clear that whatever it was going to be was fully an Abrams/Disney thing.

And indeed, this time, they did make a movie that tried to do something. Extremely unfortunately, what the movie was trying to do was reinforce the status quo. It did this on every level- Holdo's sacrifice was made meaningless, the minuscule amount of queer content was palatably deletable, a woman of color's lines were given to a white man who was buddies with the director, the story reverted from "everyone's a Star Wars" to "there are only four people in the galaxy who matter", Poe's awesome storyline from the comics was thrust aside for a frankly kind of racist replacement, every bit of story development from TLJ was cast aside. There are no consequences for anything, because all that matters is moving to the end of the story; I cannot believe that absolute motherfucker made me watch Chewbacca die with my own eyeballs just to wave it away literally two minutes later in the clumsiest way imaginable. In the prequel trilogy, in Rogue One, in TLJ, everything everyone does matters so much. The minutest actions have huge consequences. In Rise of Skywalker, nothing matters even a little bit. Everybody just waits around for the main characters to get finished dicking around.

I cannot believe that it's a thing I would possibly think ever, but the only thing that got any work put into it was Kylo and Rey's relationship. Trust: I didn't enjoy watching it. There's a piece of Wishful Drinking where Carrie Fisher and Billie Lourd are trying to figure out if Billie is related to the guy she's dating, due to a bunch of Hollywood marriages. Even after the shitstupid reveal of Rey's parentage, it still really, really feels like the same vibe. But by the time they kissed, I was like, "Yeah, I mean I hate it but I see where it happened."

Star Wars is like the end of a semester in college. The prequel trilogy is the period where you're studying, trying to cram so much stuff into your brain that you're never gonna remember. The original trilogy is exams, exhilarating and rocky but ultimately liberating.

The sequel trilogy is the party you go to afterwards. At 10 PM you're at The Force Awakens, singing along at the top of your lungs to a song that's catchy and doesn't have to be good. At midnight you're at Rogue One, where you break down sobbing in the bathroom. The Last Jedi is 2 AM, weird and full of promise, as if anything could happen.

The Rise of Skywalker is 11 AM the next day, when you've already broken down the details at brunch and are now lying in bed unable to nap, with the horrible certainty that this is all there is, you will never be more than yourself, just a regular person who carries no special importance.

I didn't like it in real life; I sure didn't want it from Star Wars.

#star wars #nothing but star wars

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d-dixonimagines · 11 months

Note

can u do enemy to lover prompt five

Prompt: "Don't touch me!" "How am I supposed to bandage you up if I can't touch you?"

I don't know what to really label this as. It's mild angst? If you wanna call it that? Reader is more moody than I originally anticipated them to be. Also, I clearly don't know how to clean wounds or how they would do it in the show, so the way it's described here is probably wrong.

Right from the very start of the day you and Daryl had been at each other's throats, bickering and yelling like you'd been married for 50 years. So it was beyond you why Rick thought it was a good idea to make you two go on a run together. Surely he knew there would be a chance that only one of you came back, and not because of any walker. The run wasn't supposed to be that big a deal. A quick day trip scouring for supplies and literally anything that would be of use and that you could carry. Everything had gone surprisingly well until you were making your way back. There was a run-in with a small hoard of walkers that happened to wander through where you were at; too many of them for just two people to deal with. You both made your way towards an abandoned house, killing off as many of the walkers as you could, focusing only on the ones that were a higher risk. If you had tried to pock off every single one, it would become too easy to get overwhelmed and ambushed as they all crowded together. So your only goal was to retreat to safety.

"Over here!" You heard Daryl's voice over the commotion of the moaning walkers. Yanking your knife from one of their skulls, you turned in Daryl's direction and made your way over. You both were almost at the house, eyeing it just beyond the tree line. There were scattered walkers wandering the property, making it difficult to make a direct run for it. "We should just keep moving. See if there's another place further down." You suggested, not seeing any other option. Daryl just shook his head. "Nah... we don't know how far the next place could be. This could be our only option. We jus' need'a plan." "We don't have time for a plan," you rolled your eyes, using every will power you had to not raise your voice and draw more attention. "I can see that, that's why we ain't gonna waste our time lookin' for somethin' else." Daryl growled back. "There's gotta be about seven or eight up there.. if we clear 'em out, go 'round either side of the house, there's bound to be a way inside." Glancing behind you to see the other walkers closing in, you let out a frustrated groan, getting yourself ready to run. "Gah!" If we make it out of this, Dixon, I'm gonna kill you myself!" You yelled, running off towards the house before he had a chance to sass you back. Clearing out your half of the yard, you quickly checked the front door to see if it would open but had no such luck. You continued round to the side of the house, killing off any stragglers. Finding a window above a pile of old wood, you attempted to climb up it to get a better grip of the window. When it didn't budge, you went to smash it but was interrupted when you felt hands grabbing at you, knocking you unstable. You let out a startled yelp as you struggled to keep the walker at bay, fighting to hold it back so you could reach for your weapon. It was just out of your reach, you could feel the tips of your fingers grazing it, scrambling to get some kind of traction to get a better grip. Daryl rounded the corner, stabbing the thing in the head and throwing it off you. "Finally you show up," you snapped at him, standing up quickly and grabbing your gun. "That's a funny way of sayin' thank you fer savin' yer ass." You just scoffed, holding your arm, not having any time to check the damage. "Did you find a way in?" "'Course I did, Princess. This ain't my first rodeo." You ignored his comments and followed him to the back door, barricading yourselves inside. After checking the rest of the house, you allowed yourself to relax just a bit once you knew it was cleared. Daryl set his things down on top of the counter and looked around the kitchen, checking to see if there was anything edible to eat. You wandered off in search of a mirror to tend to your arm. Raiding through the medicine cabinets and drawers, you didn't find much that would help. Just a tolerably clean cloth and some gauze. You started cleaning around it, as best you could, wadding up the cloth, dropping it, getting frustrated with... just... everything.

"Need help?" Daryl's voice brought you out of your head. You only looked at him for a second, getting a glimpse of him leaning against the doorframe before looking at your arm again. "I got it." He scoffed. "An infection is what yer gonna get if ya don't clean it right." "It'll have to do until we get back, won't it? I don't exactly have a lot of options here." "Water might help at least." "You see any water lying around?" "Yup..." Daryl stated simply, holding up a half filled jug. You kept your gaze on him, your eyes narrowing at him in irritation. Snatching the jug from his hand, you set it down harshly on the sink. You struggled with getting the cloth wet, not really able to use your injured arm. "Let me help." He pushed himself from the door frame. "I said I got it." Daryl didn't accept that answer, knowing you were just being stubborn. He reached over and grabbed the cloth from you, getting it damp before raising it as a silent request to keep going. Without saying anything, you contemplated for a long moment before slightly turning your body so he could get at it better. "This'll sting a bit," Daryl spoke gently, taking the water and pouring it over the wound, causing you to let out a hiss and jerk your arm back. "That hurts!" "I told ya! Ya can't get mad at me after I warned ya." You just huffed, turning back so he could continue cleaning the wound. After setting the rag down, he grabbed the gauze and gently gripped your arm, but before he could place it, you jerked out of his hold again. "Don't touch me!" Daryl let out a breathy sigh of frustration. "How am I supposed ta bandage ya up if I can't touch ya?" You stared daggers into him but he just stared back. The longer you stared at him, the more realization set in that being angry wasn't going to help anything. You weren't even really angry, you were just frustrated and overwhelmed. Daryl was only trying to help and you needed to calm down. Going back to where you were, you turned your body so he could fix you up, letting him do what he needed to. He placed the gauze on your arm and wrapped it as neatly as he could, tucking the end piece in to the rest of the material. "There... now ya have a better chance of yer arm not rotting off." There was a faint hint of smirk at the corner of his lips that you would have missed if you weren't looking at them.

You glanced down at your arm as you pushed off the sink. "My hero," you responded sarcastically. There was a beat before you looked up at him again. "Thanks..." There was another pause as you examined his face, that playful smirk vanished. "I mean it. Thank you," Your voice was softer, more relaxed. Daryl gave a soft nod before leaving the bathroom and heading towards the kitchen. "I'm starvin', I think I saw an opossum on the back porch." The moment was gone. You let out a loud groan as you followed behind him, revving up to give him an earful!

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon imagines #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead imagines

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fancyfeathers · 2 months

Text

Society of Protection (Yandere Bungo Bungou Stray Dogs x reader x original characters) (normalized yandere au)

Chapter Twenty Two, The Genius That Leads

(A/N- I read Romeo and Juliet before writing this and now I love the idea of William being called the prince of cats like Tybalt because of their similarities and that being the story much of his character is based on)

Prologue and oc intro

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter six

Chapter seven, part one

Chapter seven, part two

Chapter eight

Chapter nine

Chapter ten

Chapter eleven

Chapter twelve

Chapter thirteen

Chapter fourteen

Chapter fifteen

Chapter sixteen

Chapter seventeen

Chapter eighteen

Chapter nineteen

Chapter twenty

Chapter twenty, part two

Chapter twenty one

“Deal.” The moment you said that a smile came across his face. You glanced back at the book you were asked to retrieve, before he could say something you grabbed it from the table. You looked back over at him, keeping the book curled up in your arm. “Not a word.”

“Only if you keep your end of the deal, doll,” Ayatsuji replied as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “You’ll have a hard time hiding that book at the party, what do you plan on doing?”

“I will be leaving early, I have my own matters to tend to.” You took out your phone, ready to call your driver to pick you up. “The Society is not the only affair that keeps me busy. There is something I need to get to the bottom of, a mystery if you will.”

“How interesting, but you are not a detective, are you?” He hums, tapping his gloved finger against his cheek. His eyes are fixed on you, scanning over your form, trying to find any sign of what you are thinking.

“Perhaps, it is a family profession after all.” You picked up the skirt of your dress and began making your way towards the door. You spared him a glance as you pushed open the door to the hallway. “Now I suppose I’ll see you soon enough and hopefully we will be on the same side of the playing field. Goodbye, have a lovely evening, detective.”

“We will see…”

You stepped out into the long hallway, slowly making your way to the garage where your driver would be picking you up. You looked down at your phone, dialing up your driver’s number. The ringing mixed with the echoing of your heeled shoes as they clicked against the floor. You were a far enough distance away from the auction hall that you knew Ayatsuji was not following you, but something still felt off. You felt yourself grow more tense as you walked along the hall, as if someone was watching you. The mixture of clicking and ringing did not help calm your nerves, only blocking out another one of your senses…

Click…

Ring…

Click…

Ring…

Click…

Ring…

Click…

Ring-

You heard the line get cut at the sound of your phone getting a call. You pulled your phone away to see who was calling you, you looked down to see the contact name as none other than William Shakespeare. You hit the bright green button on the screen without hesitation, answering the call as you held it up to your ear.

“William, I have the book-“

“(Name), I need you to come to room two-three-six, the plan has changed.” You heard William’s voice speak to you, but he was not worried, not bothered, if anything he was… happy? “Things may be turning in our favor after all.”

Did he find Miss Jane already? Thoughts ran through your mind as you made your way down through the floors of the hotel. The clicking of your heels rang through the halls, everything was silent except the clicking of those heels. Soon enough you came to the door, knocking once and the door was answered not even a moment later. It was answered not a moment later by a familiar face, just not one you were expecting.

“Joan?”

Before you stood the maid who was one of the first people you met at the Society’s headquarters, only she was dressed in an outfit suited for business, a black suit and a blue plaid tie. Her long blond hair was down, not up in her usual bun that also let her blue eyes be on display. She smiled back at you, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she stepped aside to allow you to come in. “It seems we have quite a bit to explain to you.”

“What do you mean- Oh!” You cut yourself off as you entered the room, turning your head to see sitting at the table of the luxury room the familiar face of William who summoned you along with-

“I apologize for setting you up, (Name).” Those words escaped those lips, soft and gentle as always. You saw sitting at the table with William, the form of Miss Jane. She was not dressed how you expected, she herself wore a black vest over a white button up, a long blue skirt, it was simple but elegant. She rested her head against her hand, a smile coming across her face. “The truth is, I never turned myself into Fitzgerald, I would never dream of it.”

You heard the sound of the person you once thought to be a maid closing the door behind you as she approached the table. William looked over at you with a smile, before a laugh escaped from his lips. “Honestly it surprised me as well, but Jane, Wells, and Leroux fooled us all.”

“Wells?” You turned to look at the woman who opened the door for you, was that Joan’s real name? Who was she really?

“Ah yes, let me properly introduce you,” Jane said, reaching out a hand over to the woman standing beside you. “This is an old friend of mine from my work in England when I was looking for capable individuals to join the Society. May I introduce to you H.G. Wells, she has been the one keeping our Society safe from the shadows this whole time along with the one who has been brewing up those updates on where I was for Emma and the others that led to this elaborate planning for this ball that fit into the plan I devised with Wells and Leroux.”

“But Gaston is missing, I found his blood in the room along with-“

“Not missing, he is exactly where he needs to be in this plan.” Wells cut in, coming to sit down on the couch not too far from the table, swinging her arms over the back of the couch and crossing her legs. “Leroux was kidnapped by a well-known European criminal known as Nikolai Gogol. Due to Gaston’s time working with the European Union when tracking down Fyodor Dostoevsky, he found evidence that the two had connections to one another.”

“So this all has to do with Fyodor, doesn’t it?” You asked, glancing around the room at everyone.

“Exactly, Gaston had informed me of what happened when he was asked by the Port Mafia to look into the disappearance of one of their executives who had Fyodor in their custody. We immediately knew Fyodor was planning something.” Jane nodded to your question and answered as it all was obvious. “We knew that the Port Mafia would be wanting any information they could in Fyodor after so even before all this we had all of Gaston’s observations from his work in European Union on Fyodor printed into a book and set up to be sold at an auction, that’s the same book you are holding now. We planned on dangling a carrot for the Port Mafia to desire and for Fyodor to destroy.”

You glanced down at the book you held, this was all a ploy.

“I apologize for you having to be a pawn in all of this, but you played your role wonderfully.” Jane complemented with a smile, a giggle escaping her voice. “Now Gaston has Fyodor under constant surveillance and that rat has no idea, he will practically reveal everything to us and that bastard has no eyes on us because he is so focused on the Armed Detective Agency and the Port Mafia.”

“I see, I have just a few questions…” You found yourself sitting down at the table along with the others, you felt yourself crew at your lower lip in thought. “How did you fake yourself leaving at the mansion all those months ago and how did you know that Nikolai would be here?”

“Ah, well the first answer is with Ms. Wells and her ability. She was disgusted as the driver who brought the two of us there. That envelope I gave her with the instruction to open when the time was right was all she needed to know what to do.” You glanced over at the woman on the couch, she was disgusted as a maid for all these months, what was stopping her from being disguised as a driver? “You see Wells’ ability is called Time Machine and allows her to manipulate time itself. So inside the envelope told her the exact time to activate her ability, when you got inside the car. She activated her ability on me, giving me 3300 seconds to go back in time myself and slip away from Fitzgerald, who was also used as a pawn in all of this. After that I returned to Europe for a few months, working with some old friends of mine in the Order of the Clocktower, but I am afraid that is trivial at the current moment.”

“I did not expect for you to be this much of a mastermind, Miss Jane.” You heard William chuckle as he crossed his legs with a closed-eyed smile. “But I suppose I should have expected that from the leader of the Society of Protection.”

“Well, I do pride myself on my understanding of the human mind, so manipulating it with both my plans and my ability is all too easy, no offense my dear (Name).” Jane apologized with a smile which you nodded to.

“None was taken, Miss Jane. After all, I have quite a lot to still learn.” You giggled along with her smile, which was true you did have so much to learn compared to the actual geniuses that hid within the Society. “But what of my second question?”

“Ah, about Nikolai, well that is thanks to your visit to Mr. Tonan with Leroux and Dr. Stevenson such a long time ago. Do you remember his assistant and the strange behavior he had?” You nodded at Jane’s question which caused her to hum. “I did not believe him at first, just a strange assistant and nothing more, at least that is what I thought at first. As you know Gaston is a composer at the Paris Opera House, a theater, he has experience with actors and the art of such so it is easy for him to tell when one is acting. He told me that he forced the attitude of a sane man to have a perfect accent, but not to one who works with actors from that part of the world every day, so detecting a fake accent was child’s play for him.”

“So Mr. Tonan’s assistant is Nikolai in disguise?” You asked, most. to yourself as you pondered the question and then it clicked. “Wait, Mr. Tonan and his assistant were invited to the ball, so Nikolai was among the guests.”

“Just as planned, they fell into our trap like rats.” Wells smiles as she speaks, running her hand through her hair. “And now we will trap them all like rats, all of them running in a maze they don’t even know.”

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hard-core-super-star · 9 months

Note

Hello, I have a request for Hailee Steinfeld x reader: The reader works at a law firm and is a serious and kinda intimidating person, while also being really loving with close ones. The two have been married for a while and have kids, and before their anniversary reader surprises Hailee with the help of their children with a cute little cake and presents. It was chaotic to calm the kids’ excitement but the reader eventually worked it out.

I’m sorry if the request is kinda plain or doesn’t have enough info, it’s my first time requesting:)

I just now discovered your page and I absolutely adore your writing, it’s super original and fun to read.❤️

honeycomb [H.Steinfeld]

pairing: hailee steinfeld x reader

summary: you decide to let your kids help you bake a cake for your wife and cute chaos ensues.

warnings: none; quite literally the softest, most cutest fluff i've ever written; cheesy nicknames; incredibly blunt children; hailee being way too proud of being the favorite

wordcount: 1.7k

a/n: first of all, thank you so much for your kind words, lovely anon! this request was NOT plain, it was wonderful, thank you for sending it in. i was giggling and kicking my feet every time i wrote the word 'wife' and i can only hope you react the same way while reading. [i purposely left the descriptions and names of the kids vague and gender-neutral so you can picture them any way you want...and yes, both of their names are references to hailee projects, i couldn't resist]

* * * * * * *

You’re not sure what possessed you to invite your kids to help you bake a cake for their mom but you’re sure your kitchen will never look the same again.

You couldn’t deny that the idea was cute, and you adored the smiles you received from the twins when you offered to let them help you, but now you were covered in flour and chasing around two eight-year-olds on a sugar high. Hailee can say whatever she wants but they both got that restless spirit from her and not you.

A restless spirit that was going to get somebody in trouble and considering how much your wife loves spoiling your kids, that somebody was going to be you. You don’t really mind, the mere thought of getting ‘lectured’ by her being enough to make you chuckle to yourself.

Unfortunately, you’re supposed to be playing the role of a responsible adult right now and laughing the way you are only makes the twins believe their rambunctiousness is being rewarded.

“Charlie, no pushing,” you say, forcing yourself to sound strict. (Or as strict as you can be with two adorable pairs of brown eyes staring up at you like you hold all the answers to the universe) “Come on, help me clean up a little before your mom comes home.”

Your request gets mostly ignored but at least they walk back to the kitchen with you. You walk around, cleaning countertops with scattered bits of flour and sugar, while pretending you don’t notice how restless they’re getting. Their excitement is too endearing for you to be annoyed by what a hard time Charlie’s having staying still.

It’s almost funny how much more tolerant you are when it comes to your family. If anyone back at the office was tapping their foot the way the small brunette is, you’d probably glare at them. Now, all you can do is smile and try to come up with a way to entertain both kids.

The more reserved of the two speaks up before you get a chance to offer them something to do. “When’s mom coming back?”

“Hopefully in the next thirty minutes,” you reply as you sneak a glance at the clock. You decide it’s best not to point out the fact that you’ve been saying that for the past hour or so.

Hailee was clearly running late but you’re definitely not the right person to complain about that. You’re just glad she’s found another project to be passionate about. Especially since it took a lot of convincing to get her to go back to acting once the twins were old enough to understand why their mom worked at such weird hours.

You were just glad your own job allowed you to work from home a few days a week so your kids never felt like they had to take on the world on their own. The last thing you want is for them to feel like you never spend time together as a family.

Hence why you asked for the day off from your highly demanding job to prepare a surprise for your wife. Every year she insisted more and more that she didn’t need you to do anything special for your anniversary, that spending time with you every day was the only gift she could ever want, but that never stopped you from finding some way to do something for her. This year was the first year that you got your kids involved and you can only imagine the look of joy you’re bound to receive because of it.

“The cake’s done!”

You turn toward the oven as soon as you hear the announcement with a smile on your face. “Good job, little bumblebee.”

The nickname is a little too on the nose for your liking but it’s incredibly fitting and it makes the twins smile like nothing else…except maybe Hailee. They’re going through a phase where all they want to do is be around her and honestly, you can’t be mad about that because you’re exactly the same way. That’s probably where they got that from actually.

The twins start chattering excitedly about the cake while you carefully take it out of the oven and place it on the kitchen island. It honestly looks good as long as you ignore all the chaos making it left behind. Then again, chaos seems to be the main love language of your eight-year-olds and who are you to deny them?

“Okay, who wants to help me decorate it?”

You had no idea the kind of response those words were going to get.

Turns out, the twins not only got their restless spirits from Hailee but they also got her creativity and her badly hidden perfectionism. (Although you might share the blame for that last trait) It takes practically all your energy and your focus to keep them somewhat contained and stop them from arguing about what shape to draw and whether or not to write something. You're in the middle of spelling out the word ‘anniversary’ for them when the distinct sound of your wife’s voice steals your attention.

“What's going on in here?”

The speed at which both Charlie and Em move is enough to amaze any speedster in any universe. Hailee just barely manages to brace herself before they both collide into her body.

“We baked you a cake!” Em announces with a smile that looks identical to the one on your wife’s face.

“Is that right?” Hailee’s warm eyes shift between both of the adorable faces staring up at her.

“Yeah, Em and I did all the work! Right, mom?”

You see no point in correcting your very excited child over something so endearing. “Yeah, that's right, bee. And you both did a great job. You didn't even need me here.”

“Of course we needed you!” You prepare yourself for the sweet comment that no doubt follows. “The shelves are too high.”

The sound of Hailee’s laugh softens the blow a little bit. There's nothing quite like the bluntness of a child, something that you've started to learn the hard way.

“Thank you for the cake, my loves.” She leans down to give each of the twins a kiss on their foreheads. “How about you guys go pick what movie you want to watch tonight?”

They immediately run off in the direction of the living room, giving you and Hailee a small moment of peace.

“Happy anniversary, darling,” you say as you make your way toward her. “Did you like your surprise?”

“Let me think about it,” she replies, her voice tinged with a playfulness you've loved and adored since the day you met her. “I loved it, baby. Thank you.”

You wrap your arms around her and pull her toward you once you’re close enough. “Don't thank me, I didn't do anything according to the twins.”

“Try not to sound so bitter, my love.”

“Oh, shut up.” You roll your eyes but the smile on your face makes it clear that you don’t actually mind the joke. “You’re their favorite and you know it.”

“It’s not my fault that they have good taste.”

You’d love to argue with her but you have more important priorities in mind right now. Starting with kissing your gorgeous wife.

You lean in for a short, sweet, kiss, relishing the feeling of her lips against yours after spending most of the day away from each other. She lets out a quiet hum of approval as you kiss and the sound makes your smile grow until you’re forced to pull away.

“I have a gift for you,” you whisper into the space between you.

“y/n-”

“I know, I know.” You give her a quick peck to silence her yearly complaint. “But I saw it and I couldn’t resist.

You reach into your back pocket and pull out a small velvet box. Hailee raises her eyebrow once she sees it. “You’re not going to propose to me again, are you?”

You laugh and shake your head. “No, I think I got it perfect the first time.”

You lift the box up toward her before opening it up to reveal the necklace inside. It’s not anything extravagant, and you honestly worry it’s a little too cheesy, but your wife’s eyes light up at the sight of it just the same.

“Babe…”

“I thought you’d like to have your little bumblebees around all the time,” you explain as your own eyes drift down. The cute charm dangling from the gold chain is of a small beehive with two tiny bees on either side of it. As soon as you saw it, you thought of the twins and you knew Hailee would love it.

The huge smile on her face tells you you were right. “I want to be mad at you for breaking the ‘no gifts’ rule but this is adorable.” She gently takes the necklace out of its holding place and hands it to you. “Help me put it on?”

She turns around and you’re briefly transported back to your first date. Back when you were young and stupid and sure you would only be a tiny speck in Hailee’s dating history. You’ve never been happier to be proven wrong.

You reach out to move her hair out of the way, letting your fingertips graze her soft skin, before clasping the necklace together and letting it rest on her neck. You can’t stop yourself from placing a few kisses along her shoulder and grinning at the sound of her breath catching in her throat. It’s these small moments that make you fall in love all over again.

The brunette seems to read your mind and she lets out a soft whisper. “I love you, y/n.”

“I love you too, Lee.”

The moment is interrupted by the sound of footsteps rapidly approaching you. “Moms, why are you taking so long?”

You respond to the question with one of your own. “Did you guys pick out a movie?”

“We couldn’t decide,” Em says with a tiny pout. “We want mom to pick.”

Hailee couldn’t hold in her proud grin even if she tried. “I think I love you more and more each day.”

All three of you reply with your own words of affection, filling the room with a small chorus of love. You step back from your wife and motion toward the forgotten cake on the counter. "I'll take care of the cake, go help them figure out what to watch."

She nods in response before leading the tiny rascals out of the kitchen and back toward the living room. You admire their retreating forms for a few moments, feeling like the luckiest person in the world.

#hailee steinfeld x reader #hailee steinfeld x female reader #hailee steinfeld x you #hailee steinfeld x y/n #hailee steinfeld fic #hailee steinfeld fluff #hailee steinfeld imagine #hailee steinfeld fanfiction #hailee steinfeld #hawkeye #hawkeye fanfic #mcu #mcu fanfiction #mcu imagine #marvel #wlw #wlw fic #writing

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lonelym00n · 1 year

Text

The Red Means I Love You

Amber Freeman x Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: Ghostface is running around and you don't know who to trust. Amber reassures you that things will be okay.

Warnings: Typical canon violence with descriptions of blood. Please read with caution! Follows the events of Scream V. Also, Angst!

A/N: guysss... I did a thing... I'll just let you read and find out.

Title + fic inspired by Madds Buckley's song, The Red Means I Love You

If someone had told you a few days ago that you’d have to watch your close friend take a bullet to the head, you’d have slapped them across the face and added them to Mindy’s ever-growing list of potential future ghostface suspects.

In retrospect, you suppose you were naive for thinking that you’d make it through Woodsboro High without falling victim to someone deciding to take up the infamous killer’s mantle. You should’ve suspected that it would happen eventually, especially considering that three of your best friends were related to survivors from the years prior. That fact alone painted a bright red target on your back and it was only a matter of time until an eight-inch hunting knife sunk into you because of it.

Did some higher deity sew the stars together to seal the fate of you and your friends? Were you destined to die at the hands of the ghost that haunted the little town you’d lived in all your life? Some part of you thinks that yes, this was meant to happen, because a tiny voice in your head always figured the friend group you’d become a part of was doomed from the day it began to form.

Everyone else in Woodsboro had it easy, their parents were present and the killings that plagued the town only existed for them in the form of the notorious Stab franchise. The same couldn’t be said for your friends.

Put a handful of Woodsboro High’s most traumatized students into one group and what do you get? The perfect cast for the next series of killings. Mindy tells you as much when you and the rest of your friends are clustered together in her living room, trying to identify who among you was responsible for brutally attacking the others left and right.

As if being friends with people who are related to the survivors wasn’t bad enough, you learn from Tara’s older sister that she is connected to Billy Loomis, the original ghostface himself. More than being connected, Sam’s his daughter. You have half a mind to notify your parents to start picking out your tombstone now.

You barely listen as accusations fly around the room. How could it be possible that you were in the same room as the killer right now, when you’ve known everyone here your whole life? You were having a hard time processing the fact that one of the kids you’d played in the sandbox with in elementary school had grown up to become someone so sinister.

Distantly, you hear Mindy conclude that Sam must be the killer, that it made the most sense because of who her father was. She storms out of the room and after a beat, you stand up on shaky legs and murmur a goodbye to the remaining occupants of the Meeks-Martin living room. Your head was reeling and you needed to get away or you’d break down and lose your last semblance of sanity.

If there is a God that exists, they must hate you, because you break down anyways. Just outside the house, you’re hunched over, a hand clutched desperately at your rapidly rising chest. Despite your best efforts, you’re unable to chase away the dread and terror that have nestled in and made a home in your torso.

Too wrapped up in trying to calm your irregular breathing, you don’t hear the familiar clunk of boots swiftly making their way towards you.

Though your vision is blurred, you’ve spent enough time around Amber to recognize her presence almost instantly. She’s bent over you concernedly, and you think she’s speaking to you but you can’t hear her over the accelerated pounding of your heart that has arisen from the lack of proper oxygen intake.

Her body firmly encompasses your own and your senses are overtaken with everything Amber. If you were able to breathe, you would’ve sighed at the feeling of security that blanketed over you.

Amber’s hands grasp yours and she presses your joined hands onto her chest, where her heart steadily thumps beneath. At the feeling of it, you will your own heart to match its rhythm. It takes a while for it to slow down but once it does, you faintly become aware of her sweet voice reminding you to breathe slowly, in and out, in and out.

She looks relieved when you finally descend back to reality. “There you go, baby. You’re okay. I’m here.”

You throw your arms around her and sob into the embrace, struggling to ignore the burning in your chest. She rubs your back and shushes you quietly.

“Amber, I can’t do this. I’m scared.”

She presses a chaste kiss to your forehead and pulls you in closer, resting her chin on the top of your head. “We’re gonna be okay.”

You mumble into her chest, “How can you be so sure?”

Practically smothered in her embrace, you remain completely unaware of the ominous look that has blossomed in the dark brown eyes that you love so much.

“You trust me, don’t you?”

You nod, albeit a bit hesitantly.

“Good. I’m going to protect you, I won’t let anything happen to us.”

It isn’t lost on you that just as there is with everyone else, there’s a slim possibility that Amber could be the killer. But out of everyone, you know her the best. Ever since she had asked you out, all shy and nervous and very un-Amber Freeman like, the two of you had been inseparable. She weaseled her way into your everyday thoughts and in turn, you became the center of warmth that thawed her previously cold heart. No one could deny that you and Amber balanced each other out perfectly. For the first time in your life, you found someone you could trust enough to fall deeply and irrevocably in love with. If you could trust Amber with such an intimate and fundamental piece of your soul, you could trust that she wouldn’t be silently plotting your death, right?

Wrong.

Just like Liv’s skull cavity, your heart shatters at the abrupt finality of Amber’s bullet.

Chaos erupts at the spray of Liv’s blood and the crash of her still-warm body hitting the ground. Sam and Richie scatter as Tara knocks Amber’s next shot off course.

The only thing you can think to do is run, so you do. You clamber up the stairs and dive into the hall closet. You clamp a hand over your mouth to muffle the pitiful sounds desperately trying to slip past your lips.

You feel utterly broken, like the piece of your soul that you’d given to Amber was cruelly snatched out of your body and crushed in her murderous grasp. You want nothing more than to scream and wail until you yell yourself hoarse, but you can’t give up your hiding spot. As much as you’re sure that the pain of betrayal outweighs any cut from the blood-stained knife, you don’t want to find out if there’s any truth to the comparison.

You hear two sets of feet making their way up the stairs, one stomping heavily and the other flailing uselessly. You aren’t one-hundred percent sure, but you think the pained whimpers you’re hearing belong to Tara. Which means Amber was likely the one accompanying her.

At the thought of your girlfriend, you recoil further into the closet. You can feel your whole body shaking in fear.

After a few more long minutes, you can hear the familiar creak of Amber’s boots on the hardwood floor. She’s calling out your name and you press your hand harder against your mouth to completely silence the sound of your breathing.

Her search becomes more frantic and the clunking of her boots begins to pick up speed. You reach around blindly in search of anything you can use to fend her off.

Just as you tighten your grip around what you think might be an umbrella, the closet door flies open. You swing with all your might, but Amber moves quicker, grabbing the umbrella and disarming you.

She quirks an eyebrow and chuckles at your failed attempt to hit her. She motions for you to stand.

“Come on, down to the kitchen we go.”

You make no move to get up, paralyzed at the sight of her donning the ghostface robes.

She groans, “I can’t have you ruining the plan. Let’s go.”

Her commanding tone does nothing to move you. You’re rooted to the spot in fear, wondering what fate is waiting for you down in the kitchen.

Amber growls and you flinch backwards as she steps into the closet, towering over your seated form.

“You’re being such a pain in the ass.”

Her hands wrap tightly around your waist as hoists you up and tosses you over her shoulder. You struggle futility, but there’s no chance you can escape the strong arm wound snugly around your midsection.

Amber carries you easily down the stairs and you wriggle around faster, knowing from your frequent visits to the house that you’re almost across the threshold that leads into the kitchen.

You’re placed onto the ground and firmly shoved to the other side of the island. Before you can even think to move, the steel barrel of a gun is pressed into your forehead. It’s Richie on the other end of it, and only then do you realize that Sam is laid out on the ground, a hand pressed into her side, where blood is trickling out despite her efforts to stop it. She looks up at you with sorrow and terror and you’re sure that your expression reflects hers like a mirror.

Amber takes the knife that Richie offers to her and makes her way to a different corner of the kitchen. She jumps gleefully, and if things weren’t so fucked up you might’ve found the sight endearing.

Though the gun blocks out most of your vision, you see two other women in the kitchen.

Gale Weathers and Sidney Prescott. Shit, even they managed to get trapped in this nightmare.

Richie, seemingly pissed that you aren’t giving him your full attention, grips your jaw with more than enough force to leave a bruise. Your resulting moan of pain is insignificant to him.

“Leave her alone!” Sidney yells out and Amber’s knife presses threateningly into her throat, swiftly silencing her.

Richie laughs menacingly, “Sid, when are you gonna finally realize you aren’t in control here?”

He turns towards you and frowns angrily.

“You know if it were up to me, you’d have been dead at the start of this thing.”

A glob of his spit lands on your cheek and the gun is pushed further into your forehead, the force practically moving you backwards.

You’re scared, the most afraid you’ve ever been in your life. Your hands are trembling and you stutter, completely unable to come up with the necessary words to plead helplessly for your life.

“Pathetic,” Richie growls out. He looks in Amber’s direction, “I don’t know what you saw in her honey.”

“She usually has a lot more fire in her.”

You meet her gaze for a second. Amber’s eyes are nearly black, pupils blown wide with what must be psychotic pleasure.

You open your mouth to finally say something, but the sudden smack of the gun across your face shuts you up. You cry out and lift your hands to your face instinctually. Your head is pulsing at the unexpected pain.

While Amber’s distracted with Richie’s assault on you, Sidney makes a grab for a knife sitting on the countertop.

Her actions don’t go unnoticed. Amber reacts with the speed of a demon and plunges her knife into Sidney’s gut. Gale yells out as Sidney crumples to the ground.

With both Sidney and Gale momentarily incapacitated, Richie knocks you backwards, sending you carelessly stumbling back and straight into Amber’s arms. He turns towards Sam, while Amber pins you against the counter.

“Get rid of her Amber, we need to start staging the bodies. Fast baby, we don’t have much time.”

She hums, not bothering to verbally acknowledge him. You shiver as your eyes lock together, hers still full of straight mania.

Her arm lifts up and she moves slowly, tracing the blade against the smooth skin of your face. You try not to gag at the coppery smell of blood that is being carelessly smeared across your face.

She smiles softly at you, creating a confusing juxtaposition with the wild expression that fills her eyes.

Amber leans in to whisper almost lovingly in your ear, “I always knew you’d look so pretty covered in blood, baby.”

You can’t stop the tears from leaking out of your eyes. You’re so distraught, it’s nearly impossible to think straight with how overwhelmed you are. How could this Amber be the same Amber that had admitted to being nervous the first time she told you she loved you?

“Amber, please.” You begged brokenly, hoping the girl you loved so dearly was still somewhere inside the maniac that stands in front of you.

Her gaze softens just a hair and you nearly cheer at the glimpse of your Amber.

“I’m sorry. You know I’d keep you around if I could.”

The relief exits your body. Your heart drops deep into your chest at the words.

“You said you’d protect me.” You feel desperate, there had to be something you could say to snap Amber out of this state.

She pouts and brushes a strand of your hair behind your ear. “I did. Richie wanted you to be the opening kill, but I stopped that from happening.”

The special smile that she always saved just for you spread across her face, “I even convinced him to leave you to me tonight. I’ll be the last person you see, won’t that be nice?”

Your jaw trembles with the newfound knowledge. Amber spared you, but only to prolong your life so you’d die by her hand. Your resolve finally breaks, and you are fully encased in dread.

In a strange mirroring of the day’s earlier events, you begin weeping loudly. Amber’s arms wrap around you in an attempt to comfort you.

She deposits a kiss onto the top of your head.

“I know you don’t understand it, but I’m doing this because I love you.”

Her arms tighten around you and you’re suddenly blindsided by excruciating pain. Amber’s knife is slowly pushed deeper and deeper into your body, your insides twist around at the intrusion.

As you yell out in pain, she shushes and gently praises you, repeatedly whispering how much she loves you.

She rips the knife out of your gut, just to harshly plunge it back in once, twice, and a third time. You feel sick at the squelching that sounds out each time the knife enters your stomach.

Blood dribbles out of your mouth as you groan in pain.

Hazily, you notice that she’s covered in your blood. Your vision is darkening and you feel yourself begin to dwindle in and out of consciousness.

Amber takes note of this and leans closer, her lips nearly touching yours.

“You did so good for me, love. I’ll make sure they cast someone beautiful to play you in the movie.”

With a final whispered confession of love, Amber places a gentle series of kisses to your bloodied lips. She stabs you once more, and lowers your body carefully to the ground as she pulls the knife out one last time.

You lay there, unable to move even if you wanted to. You stare up at the ceiling, it spins around and around and around.

Your ears are ringing. If you could think clearly, you reckon you’d wonder what you did wrong to end up in this situation. You don’t think there’s any possibility for things to have ended differently. Fate was cruel and unforgiving, but at this point you have no choice but to lie in the bed that it has made for you.

The pain is gone, replaced with the silent weight of nothingness. You feel yourself drifting away, and you welcome the feeling. Maybe your next life would be kinder to you.

Unfortunately for you, your peace never comes.

Instead, you find yourself opening your eyes disorientedly. You let out a sharp hiss at the blinding white lights that glare back at you.

Once you’ve adjusted to the light, you finally make out that there are a couple figures crowding around you.

“Wha-”

It hurts to talk, as a matter of fact, everything hurts.

“Alright, alright you’re okay. My name’s Dr. Ford. You’re gonna be in a lot of pain for a while, so let’s take it easy.”

You stare back at the man in disbelief.

Somehow, despite all the odds, you survived.

A/N: ta da!! I'm actually planning a part 2 to this that follows our dear reader through the events of scream vi, so stay tuned! Heads up, it won't actively be about an Amber x R relationship cuz... well you know :'(

Fellow Amber stans plz forgive me for not feeding y'all more regularly.

#amber freeman x reader #amber freeman x you #amber freeman x y/n #scream fanfic #amber freeman imagine #lonelym00n fic

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