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spencerreidsmiles · 3 years

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Skater Boy Spencer Reid

Written by: spencerreidsmiles

Howdy, howdy! I am very slowly going through my remaining requests. This request was for prompts 38, 41, and 47 on the fluff prompt list here. You’ll see them bolded throughout the story!

Also, a short side note that I have no idea how to skateboard at all! This is solely based off my intensive research (/s) on how to skateboard, so if this isn’t accurate, I’m sorry!

Summary - The reader teaches Spencer how to skateboard.

Content Warnings - blood, minor injury, light teasing

Word Count - 1737

MASTERLIST // WATTPAD VERSION

“Skateboarding? Of all things you could’ve chosen, skateboarding?”

“Oh come on, Spencer, you never know, you might be good at it,” you replied, yanking at his shirt sleeve.

Spencer glanced at you with a slightly withering glare. It was a look you were very familiar with; if there was one thing you enjoyed more than anything else in the world, it was teasing Spencer. It was just so easy to tease him, so why wouldn’t you?

But amidst all the teasing about the skateboarding, there was a part of you that knew Spencer Reid would make an excellent skater boy.

You leaned closer to Spencer, looking up with the biggest puppy eyes you could muster and a big pout.

“Remember when I saved your ass? You owe me, Spencer,” you said, emphasizing each word with a poke to his chest. “You said you would do whatever I wanted.”

Spencer glanced away with a pout. “Fine, whatever you like.”

“Hm, I knew you would say that.” You grinned with satisfaction and squeezed his cheeks. “I’ll see you at the skate park tomorrow! Don’t forget your knee pads!”

Spencer did not, in fact, forget his knee pads. (Not that forgetting things was something Spencer usually did.) And even though you had told him to bring his knee pads, you couldn’t help but laugh when you saw him walk - no, waddle - up in matching purple knee pads, elbow pads, and a helmet. He looked long and gangly and awkward in his gear with his usual converse and for once, a tee shirt and shorts. You hadn’t ever seen him in any of these clothes before but you had to admit, you definitely weren’t disliking it.

“You look really good. Color coordinated too,” you said with a big smile as you knocked the side of his helmet with your knuckles.

“You like it?” Spencer beamed. He did a little spin, the clasps of his helmet twirling around.

“It’s perfect for you. Honest.” You kicked up your spare board, catching the top. “But let’s get down to business. I’m going to make you a skater boy by the end of the day, Spencer Reid. That is a promise.”

You handed the board over to Spencer. It was old and scraped up from years of use and many, many wipeouts. When you’d first bought it years ago, it was red and shiny, but now the red had faded away, leaving only a wooden board with strips of red remaining. The wheels were still functional, if a bit wonky, but perfect for learning on.

For someone who claimed to have absolutely zero athletic ability, Spencer was quite good at skateboarding. Well, to be fair, he hadn’t actually started skateboarding for real yet. You started him off by placing a single foot onto the board with the other still fully intact with the ground, but it was a start. He got a feel for what it felt like to bend his knees and push his weight around to move the board. But now he had to put both feet on the board and actually skateboard.

“Y/N, look! I’m doing it!” Spencer said as he hopped around on one leg while scooting with his other on the board.

You couldn’t help but smile. The childlike glee Spencer was exuding could make anyone smile. He carted himself around the perimeter of the skate park as you trailed behind him, keeping a careful eye on him.

“Alright, Spencer. Well here comes the hard part. Give me your hands, you’re going to put both feet on the board now.”

Instantly, Spencer’s smile was replaced with a worried expression. He put his foot down on the ground and paused in front of you.

“What?” he asked. You brushed aside some of Spencer’s hair that had escaped his helmet, accidentally brushing his cheek as well. Shivers tickled your spine and unfamiliar goosebumps covered your body.

“Hey, I got you. Trust me, okay?” you said.

“Okay.” Spencer nodded and placed his hands in yours.

“Now push off with your right foot, then put it back on the board, and I’ll pull you, got it?” you directed.

With a silent gulp, Spencer did as you said. He bent his knees and pushed off with his right foot before placing it back on his board. You started walking backwards and pulled Spencer forward. Slowly, you started walking back faster and faster until you had started to jog.

“Spencer, you’re doing it! You’re doing it!” you exclaimed.

Without saying another word, you let go of Spencer’s hands. And for a minute, he was actually doing it, actually skating around with both feet firmly planted onto the board and arms spread out like wings. You were so busy admiring him you didn’t even notice that he had begun to lose balance and wobble.

“Y/N! How do I stop!” he shouted, reaching his hands out for you.

“Oh shoot! Hold on!”

You started running back towards him, but you were too late. Spencer had already leaned too far ahead. He started making circles with his hands, flapping around in an attempt to keep his balance. Just as you grabbed his hands, the board kicked out from under him and both of you fell flat onto the asphalt.

You had your eyes closed while you were falling, so when you opened them to find Spencer’s face only a couple inches above yours and his body on top of yours, you nearly screamed. You had never been this close to Spencer in your entire life. Surely if he was this close, he could hear your heart beating out of your chest, no? You were breathless but you weren’t quite sure if it was because you were being squished by Spencer or because of how close you were to him.

Spencer, however, was completely frozen. His hands were placed right beside your head and he was staring, just staring, straight at you. His caramel curls hovered right above your face, blowing gently from the wind.

“Hi,” you said breathlessly.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

“I’ll be honest, you are crushing me right now.”

“Oh, sorry!” Spencer rolled off of you, landing on his butt, cross-legged on the ground. You wriggled yourself up and watched as Spencer dusted himself off.

When you finally made eye contact, you couldn’t help but start laughing. You were just replaying the image of Spencer slipping over and over again. It was incredible.

“That was the most ridiculous fall I’ve ever seen, Spencer, my god.”

You leaned back, holding your stomach as you laughed. Just before you fell over completely again, Spencer caught your hand. From that single touch, electricity shot from your fingertips into the rest of your body. The sensation nearly scared you for how good it felt, how alive it made you feel. Touching Spencer felt like you were skating without even getting on a board. You never wanted to let go.

But Spencer did. He pulled back, forehead scrunching as he winced.

“What’s wrong?” you asked. But then you saw it, his poor hands all torn up from the fall. They were rubbed raw with speckles of red dotting his palms. “Oh my gosh, Spencer, your hands!”

“I’m fine,” he said. He looked at his own palms, flexing it, moving it around.

“No, come here, at least let me clean it,” you said as you stood up. “Come on, I have a first aid kit in my bag.”

You led Spencer to a bench with all of your things. As you cleaned his palms, wiping them with antiseptic wipes and bandaging them, you could feel Spencer’s eyes watching you.

After years of working for the FBI, going on case after case for years, Spencer’s hands were rough and calloused. There were scars, too many for you or him to remember where and when they came from now, blending in with the creases of his hands. But still, they were comforting, familiar.

“One more try, okay? I believe in you. No more wipeouts.” You finished bandaging his hands with a gentle pat. Spencer pretended to pout, giving you a half-meaning glare.

“Oh come on, you’re okay. Do you need a kiss to make it better?” you teased.

“What?” Spencer’s face flushed.

“I’m kidding.” You pushed his shoulder lightly all whilst thinking that for the first time (or at least the first time you had truly acknowledged it) you weren’t really joking at all. “Now come on, one more try.”

Spencer was more hesitant this time, but he reached for your hands again. He placed one foot on the board, already beginning to wobble. Come on, Spencer, you can do it, you thought to yourself. He glanced at you as he took a deep breath.

And he did. Spencer soared around the whole park. He was like a natural as he swerved around with outstretched arms. The sound of the wheels sliding against the pavement surrounded you as Spencer removed his back foot from the board and stopped without flying off the board right in front of you.

“You did it, Spencer!” You ran up to Spencer and enveloped him in a massive hug.

Spencer returned your hug, throwing his arms around you tightly. His knee pads knocked against your legs as he pulled you closer to him. He smelt of coffee and baby powder under the sweat and dirt and twinge of blood that lingered in the air. As you stayed there wrapped up in his arms, you wondered if it was possible to stay here forever in the comfort you never knew was so close.

The two of you finally decided to leave when the sun started to beat down on your backs. While Spencer was prepared for almost everything, apparently the two things he hadn’t thought about were guard gloves and sunscreen. Spencer grabbed the board, resting it comfortably under his arm.

As you went to get your bag, Spencer tapped your shoulder and spoke. “So uh, can we do this again next week?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “I would love that, Spencer. And who knows, you might be better than me soon.”

Spencer looked down with a growing smile on his face.

“Come on, let’s get out of here.” you said, fearlessly grabbing Spencer’s hand.

You walked away with satisfaction, thinking to yourself only one thing; you were right, Spencer Reid did make an excellent skater boy.

TAG LIST - @reiding-and-writing @twelveyearoldchildprodigy @philsreidingglasses @marshmellow-mouse @huntynut-queerios @sierra—king @thnksfrbuckybarnes @hope-hopr @rosyreid @scbcar @ultrarebelheart @headshotsandcanons @lyrasilverroseelizabethamanti @heyitskatrina @mainstreamqueen @prettyrickyreid @theresnothingformehere @donuts1324 @lookingforgalifrey @doyouheardeansing @stunudo @captainreid @little-pan-trash-can @the-one-and-onlyqueenasf @the-and-sign-anon @princesswagger17 @spoonsandthings14 @nerdyfandom20 @spencerreidsbitch @irjuejjsaa @philspinkyfinger @peter-parker-steve-bucky @biscottibitch @bucky-smiles @youngmalfunctionarts @spacedustdoll @shotarosleftpinky @jjwrites @rosyreid-blog @essayzine-blog @spencerreid9 @madsgraygubler @no-alarms-no-surprises-silence

#spencer reid #reid x reader #spencer reid x reader #reid #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds self insert #spencerreidsmiles

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alisonsfics · 3 years

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20 Questions

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Reader

Summary: “Howdy there! I wanted to request a cute imagine with Derek. The basic idea is that they're playing 20 questions or something and it gets really personal and cute and they express their feelings for each other.” - @dirty-pan-goblin

Word Count: 2.2k

“So now the wait begins” you said, leaning back into your seat.

You and Derek were on a stakeout outside of a suspect's house. You were both sitting in the SUV, just waiting. “I know a way we could pass the time” Derek said, smirking at you.

You cursed yourself because the first place your mind went was somewhere dirty. You couldn’t be blamed for that though, Derek Morgan was like most attractive man you had ever seen. So maybe you had developed a crush on your coworker, so what?

“Oh yeah, and what’s that?” You asked him, looking over into his eyes. “20 questions?” He suggested. You thought about it for a second. You thought about the possible risks of playing this game with him. The benefits outweighed the risks, and besides you were really going to be bored if you didn’t play.

“Alright, I’m down. Hit me” you told him, embracing the challenge. “Okay, I’ll start easy. What was your first impression of me?” He asked you, curiously.

You thought back to your first day at the BAU. It had been a few years, then it all came back to you.

“Well I remember I walked into Quantico on my first day, and I was so lost. I was trying to find Hotch’s office, but I had no idea where it was. Then, I bumped into you and you asked if I needed help, and you showed me where to go. I remember thinking that you seemed like just a really good guy, like someone you could always rely on” you told him, smiling. Even on your first day, you felt like a school girl again when you were around Derek.

“So how does that first impression measure up to how you know me know?” Derek asked you, smirking. “Nope, only one question allowed. My turn. What is your ideal first date?” You asked him, raising your eyebrows.

“Nothing super fancy, maybe just seeing a movie or making dinner together. But like my absolute perfect date would be going to a carnival together” he told you, honestly.

“Who knew that you were such a romantic” you teased him. You were starting to get nervous, now that you guys were talking about dates. What if Derek asked you if you had your eyes on anyone?

“What do you value more, platonic relationships or romantic relationships?” He asked you, smirking. “Well if you’re doing it right, I think your significant other should also be like your best friend. I mean, you shouldn’t like ditch your friends because you like some guy. But you significant other should be someone you would be friends with, if you weren’t romantically attracted to them” you said, being completely honest.

“You are such a hopeless romantic, of course you would say that” Derek said, laughing and placing his hand on your forearm for a second. You felt the heat rush to your cheeks. “You asked, don’t judge my answer” you said, sticking your tongue out at him and giggling.

“No judgement here, so what else do you want to know?” He asked you, giving you that million dollar smile. “What’s your favorite thing about me?” You asked him, giggling to yourself.

“Well that’s hard, you’re kind of a horrible person” Derek joked, chuckling. Your jaw dropped and you hit his arm, offended. “I cannot believe you, you are so rude! Give me a good answer” you said, pretending to pout.

“Probably how compassionate you are. You always make everyone feel supported, whether that’s victims or their families or even the rest of the team. You always know just how to comfort someone” he told you, giving you a small smile. “Awww Derek, you bit softie” you said, leaning your head on his shoulder.

You were touched that he thought so highly of you. It’s really nice to get a compliment, every now and then. Especially from the guy you were head over heels for.

You picked your head back up and looked at him, waiting for your question.

“Have you ever been in love?” He asked you, sincerely. You thought about your answer for a second. “Yes, I’m somebody who falls in love really easily. I wear my heart on my sleeve and sometimes that’s been bad and sometimes it’s good. What about you?” you told him, honestly.

“Once for sure, and then I kind of put up walls to protect my heart. I haven’t been truly in love since then. But I’m open to it and I don’t think it’s impossible, especially with the right person” he told you, looking into your eyes. For a split second, there was a certain sparkle in his eyes. When he mentioned the right person, it felt like he was talking about you.

You felt absolutely crazy for thinking he could be talking about you. There was no way, right?

“So are you currently in love?” Derek asked you, and you saw the same twinkle. “No, but there’s someone who I could see myself falling in love with” you told him, hoping he would get the hints.

“Can I ask a follow up question?” Derek asked, smirking at you. “Of course” you told him, smiling. “Am I that person?” He asked you, and you felt the butterflies in your stomach.

Then you saw the unsub come out of his house. “Derek look” you said, pointing towards the house. He looked away from you and towards the direction you were pointing. “Hotch, we got him. Y/N and I are going after him” Derek said, over the microphone.

You both jumped out of the SUV and pulled out your guns. “Daniel Sullivan, put your hands in the air” Derek called out, as you both pointed your guns at him.

The man saw you both and froze, and then he turned around and started running. “You still have to answer the question, when we’re done, Y/N” Derek said, as he started to chase the unsub.

“I’m going to cut him off in the alley” you told Derek, and then started running.

You made it to the alley and you could hear the unsub running. You could tell he was about to run out in front of you. You stopped and waited til he got closer. Then, at exactly the time, you kicked you leg out. Successfully knocking the unsub off of his feet.

“Nice one, L/N” Derek said to you, holding up his hand for a high five. You smiled and hit his hand, but Derek closed his hand so that your fingers were interlaced. He just smirked at you. You giggled to yourself and then pulled your hand away.

You grabbed the handcuffs off your belt and locked them around the wrists of the unsub. By then, the local police had arrived. One of the officers took the unsub from you, and transported him to the station.

“Come on, let’s go” Derek said, putting his arm around your shoulders. You both walked back to the SUV. You saw the rest of the team waiting there.

“The police just started to check the house, but they already found the victims. They’re safe” Hotch told you two. “That’s a relief” you said, sighing.

“We’re going to meet back at the police station, we’ll see you two there?” Rossi asked you both, smirking. You tried to ignore the smirk and just nodded your head. “Yeah, we’ll be there” Derek told him.

The rest of the team got in their SUV and left the scene. You started to walk towards the SUV. “Woah woah woah, you’re not getting off that easy, babygirl” Derek said, grabbing your hand and pulling you back towards him.

“What?” You asked, pretending to be clueless. “Listen, if you were talking about somebody else, that’s fine. We can both move on and be the good friends that we’ve always been. But, if you were talking about me, just tell me. Because I think you are amazing and one of the kindest and bravest people I’ve ever met. But I just need to know” he told you, honestly.

You looked down, not knowing what to say. Derek was still holding your hand in his and you could feel your cheeks heat up. Of course he was the person you were talking about, but you didn’t know how to tell him that.

But, Derek interpreted your hesitance as rejection. You saw a look of hurt in his eyes, as he slowly pulled his hand away. “I— I’m sorry that I asked” he said, starting to walk away.

“No, Derek wait!” You called out, not wanting to hurt him. He turned to face you. “You don’t have to apologize for how you feel, I understand” he told you, but he just looked like he was in pain.

“Two years, four months, and six days” you told him, only thinking of one way to tell him how you felt. Derek looked confused, to say the least. “You gotta help me out, L/N” he said, asking what you meant.

“That’s how long it’s been since I fell for you. It was the first time that your eyes sparkled when I looked at you, and the first time that I got butterflies when you called me babygirl” you told him, with a smile on your face. He started to walk back towards you, slowly.

“Are you saying?” He asked you, almost not believing it. “Yes Derek, you’re the person I was talking about. You are the most caring person I know. Any time that I’m ever feeling down, you always make sure I know that you’re always there for me. You are selfless and compassionate and the only person I never get sick of talking to” you told him, honestly.

Derek closed the distance between the two of you and cupped your face. He leaned in and kissed your lips. It felt magical.

You rested your hands on his forearms and kissed him back, with all the love you had in you. It felt like it the years of pent up feelings, were poured into this kiss.

And just before the kiss could become too heated for being in public, you pulled away. The smile on Derek’s face was contagious.

You both looked a young, teen couple. You both had the biggest smiles on your faces, and expressions of pure bliss.

“I’m glad I asked you to play 20 questions with me” Derek said, truthfully. “Yeah, so am I” you said, kissing his cheek. He moved his hands from cupping your face to wrap around your waist.

“We should probably get back to the station, before the team starts to get suspicious” Derek told you, looking into your eyes. You giggled to yourself, knowing that the whole team was definitely already aware of crushes the two of you had. They always knew.

“Yeah, I guess duty calls” you said, as you both pulled away and walked to the car. You both drove back to the police station and Derek’s hand didn’t leave your thigh for the whole ride.

When you both pulled into the police station, you both got out of the car and walked inside. You were both met by Spencer standing right in front of you.

He looked like he was trying to say something. “What’s up, pretty boy” Derek asked him, curiously. “Rossi and Emily told me to ask if you two were dating. They figured you two would be most likely to tell me the truth out of everyone” Spencer told you.

You both laughed, that sounded exactly like something Emily and Rossi would do. “Come on Reid, let’s go talk to them” you said, starting to walk towards the room where the BAU was set up in. Both Spencer and Derek followed you.

“Hey” Emily said, when the three of you walked in. “Are you using precious, little Dr.Reid to spy on us?” You asked, leaning into Spencer’s side. “I have no idea what you’re talking about” Emily lied.

“So I guess if Derek and I were together, you wouldn’t care?” You teased Emily. “Wait! You two ARE together? I was right” Emily said, cheering for herself. Then, Rossi took out his wallet and handed Emily a twenty dollar bill.

“Were you two betting on us?” Derek asked them, shocked. “Nope, not all” they both said, in unison. “Reid?” You asked, looking over at Spencer. “They had a bet going about how long it would take you two to start dating” Spencer said, truthfully.

“Spencer” they both groaned in frustration. “I can’t believe you were betting on us” Derek said, chuckling. “Are you kidding? That sounds just like something they would do” you said, giggling.

Hotch entered the room and said “It’s time to go, we’re leaving for the airport”. You all got up and got into the SUV’s, to drive to the airport.

Once you were on the jet, Emily pulled you aside and demanded that you tell her every detail of how you and Derek got together. As you were telling the story, you kept glancing up and making eye contact with Derek. He was playing chess against Spencer, and losing badly.

Every time you two made eye contact, he would wink at you or wave. And every time, it left a smile on your face.

You had worried about how dating Derek would affect the relationship of the team. But now, you had no doubt that nothing would change or be awkward.

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Requests OPEN

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reader-mon · 4 years

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BNHA ❥ Warmth (i)

a/n: just a little vent fic cus boy howdy would i love it if hawks just swooped in and made all my troubles disappear lol word count: 1497 warning: sad, very sad, i cried when i wrote this lol

“What’s his excuse this time?”

You sniffled, rubbing your nose with your hoodie sleeve. You didn’t even have to look up to know who it was. His timing always was absolute shit and he always managed to find you when you least wanted him to.

He didn’t have the heart to tell you that you always went up onto your apartment roof whenever you were sad and you always went to the convenience store only a block from your place whenever you wanted to get drunk and his patrol route conveniently covered both areas.

Keigo Takami loved you in a way only red-tailed hawks could which was, to say, he wanted to be with you during your happiest times and your saddest times. He was your closest friend and, though he wanted to be more, he settled on being the best friend he could be.

Red-tailed hawks only felt love this deep and encompassing once in their lives.

“What do you want, Hawks?” You grumbled out, pulling your knees closer to your chest and crossing your arms, your body shivering as a cold wind swept through.

You didn’t mind it. It was easier on you to focus on the cold than on the aching vast loneliness that sat in your chest.

So, instead, you relished in the chill while you kept your eyes on the busy streets below you. It was beautiful, really. The car lights made such twinkling patterns as they drove through the streets. The lights on the skyscraper buildings surrounding you looked almost like stars.

You couldn’t help but think that every lit window was another happy family, another car passing the busy streets was another person driving to their loved ones, every little pedestrian another person with a warm house waiting for them.

Then, there was you.

“Don’t Hawks me.” Keigo finally barked back before sitting next to you, letting his feet dangle off the edge of the roof “What did your boyfriend tell you his excuse was this time?”

“He has work.” The words left your mouth before you could stop them and, honestly, saying them out loud made the hurt ache even more.

How selfish were you to ask for his time? He was working, doing his best to earn money so he could live. Who were you to ask him to spend more time with you? Who were you to add to his list of worries and problems? You, of all people--

“Hey, look at me.” You felt Keigo’s warm wing spread out behind you and, gently, softly, he pulled you towards him with his wing enveloping you “I know what you’re thinking.”

He knew because he was your best friend. He knew how you belittled yourself, how you would make all your problems seem so small, like you were always overreacting to them.

Sometimes, Keigo wanted to take that voice in your head and crush it in his fist.

“Do you know what I’m thinking?” You fought back tears by blinking your eyes, hoping they’d disappear. Instead, the tears built up in the corners of your eyes and you were forced to wipe them away with the edges of your hoodie sleeves.

Except, your hoodie smelled too much like him and it just made you want to cry even more. The ache was just so thick and suffocating, so palpable, like you could reach into your chest and squeeze it in your fist, like maybe you could pull it out and your body would feel lighter.

You felt Keigo’s arm wrap around your lower back and his gloved hand settled on your hip “I do. I know what it feels like to be lonely, kid.”

Except, really, it wasn’t just loneliness, was it? It was neglect, it was heartache, it was never being anyone’s first priority, not even your own.

But you were Keigo’s first priority. You always were and he wished that would be enough but, if it wasn’t for now, he’d just continue consoling you.

“You know, it’s shit that he’s doing this to you.” Keigo looked away, trying to calm his anger towards your boyfriend. His voice sounded farther, like he turned his head.

Finally, you chanced a small glance at him. His side profile, like always, was roguishly handsome. His hair looked ruffled by wild winds, his cheeks red probably from the chill of the air, his golden eyes molten in the light of the setting sun.

Takami Keigo, for all intents and purposes, looked like someone you could fall in love with.

He turned to look at you, saw the way the sun’s rays made you look angelic, and he felt his heart flutter, his eyes wide and soft like you hung the moon and the stars in the sky just for him “I wouldn’t treat you this way.”

More tears sprung in your eyes. Before you could stop them, they fell, bitter and frozen as they glided down your cheeks. Your throat hurt, probably from all the words that seemed clogged up in you, all the words you were so desperate to say.

Maybe, even worse, it was the ache in your chest that finally grew so large that it was forcing its way out.

“I’d text you every day.” Keigo added as if trying to convince you of how wonderful he could be, like you needed convincing “I wouldn’t just text you to get my dick wet. I’d ask if you’ve eaten, ask what you’re doing, ask how your day’s going.”

“If you hadn’t eaten, I’d fly over with KFC and kick your ass.” He added and, though you laughed, it was wet and sad as more tears dripped down your cheeks.

Your cheeks got so wet with tears, in fact, that you started wiping them away which, of course, made you cry even more. All the hoodie you were wearing now could do was remind you of how dumb you were.

Funny how you had asked your boyfriend for his hoodies so you wouldn’t miss him as much but, now, they were just a pathetic imitation of your boyfriend’s hugs.

You saw Keigo frown at you from the corners of your eyes but, before you could say anything, his hands were at the hem of your hoodie, pulling them up and up, until the fabric covered your head.

“Hey, what the hell, Hawks!”

Finally, he managed to wrangle the hoodie off of you. You shivered, obviously cold in such windy weather. Before you could continue to yell at him, however, he tossed the hoodie behind the both of you and shed his fur-lined coat.

You hadn’t been paying all that much attention to understand exactly how he slipped his wings through the back. Instead, you were distracted by the toned muscle he revealed as he took it off.

You had always assumed that whatever he wore underneath his coat was a black skin-tight turtleneck. In reality, it was sleeveless, showing off his almost immaculate shoulders. He was a pro-hero and it obviously showed.

Any other time, Keigo would’ve preened under your obviously appreciative gaze but he couldn’t find it in himself to be happy when you were obviously so sad.

“Here, forget about that asshole.” He wrapped you in his coat and you felt so small inside of it.

That wasn’t a bad thing, though. It was so warm and soft against your skin, unlike the rough texture of that well worn hoodie. It didn’t feel lonely, didn’t feel cold. It felt like safety and like security and like Keigo was hugging you close to him.

Keigo, on the other hand, could only feel his cheeks warm at the sight of you. He had always wondered what you’d look like in his clothes and he felt his stomach flutter now that it was right before him.

He thought you could never look any more beautiful but he was wrong. You looked so comfortable in his coat despite the fact that it was so big it engulfed you, the fur lining the hood brushing against your wet cheeks and the edges of the sleeves running past your finger tips.

You looked like you belonged to him and it hurt.

Suddenly, before you could even react to the fact that he slipped his coat onto you, he really was hugging you close to him, his wing back to wrapping around you and his arms holding you tight.

It had been so long since you felt someone hold you like that. It was hard, you were starved of affection and Keigo was practically offering you a banquet.

Slowly, you wrapped your arms around his neck. You wanted to push him away, wanted to stay loyal, but he was just so warm and comfortable and you could see yourself falling in love with him.

He could see himself spending eternity in your arms.

“C’mon.” Keigo muttered, his lips pressed against your temple and his breath tickling your skin “Forget about him, at least for tonight.”

#hawks x reader #keigo x reader #keigo takami x reader #keigo #hawks #keigo takami #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #boku no hero imagines #boku no hero x reader #drabble

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gra-sonas · 3 years

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Chris Hollier serves as showrunner for The CW’s hit series Roswell, New Mexico. The show first premiered back in 2019 and is now heading into its third season. Season 3 premieres on July 26 and new episodes will continue to air Mondays at 8:00 – 9:00 PM. Roswell, New Mexico was already renewed for a fourth season as well!

I spoke with Hollier about all things season 3, the one year time jump, getting renewed for another season, which episode he’s most excited for fans to see, the show’s relationships, which new duos we’ll see on screen, and so much more! Keep reading to find out everything he told me.

First off, we ended season two with a big cliffhanger. So how can you tease and set up how the premiere is going to kick off and and resume from that? Chris Hollier: Well, I think much like you said, we have to at least answer that question, we left him on; “howdy, partner” is quite a way to go out. So, we got to get our partners involved there. Then I think by the end, I want to tease out that much like in life, you don’t always know the best response right then and sometimes it takes a little time, and we gave our character some time to really evaluate all of their decisions with the jump, but also romantically.

The show will be doing a one year time jump; what made you decide to go this route, and is there a character that you were most excited to apply this to and see where they would be a year later? Chris Hollier: I think that what we try to do is honor the decisions of people that age, which what I mean is sometimes you don’t know, you need distance and perspective for things, even if they’re good. You need to knock that against something, you need to go after the dream that you said that you want and stand in it for 10 minutes to realize, is this really where I want to be or should I jump ship before it gets to be too late? And time just does that to you.

Which of the characters’ storylines do you think after the time jump is going to shock fans the most? Chris Hollier: Is going to shock fans the most? Interesting. I think ultimately throughout the season, what Liz realizes about herself is going to be a journey that they don’t quite expect; that as it gets up and running, it’s going to feel as the episodes roll on, and she is growing and running through a gauntlet to push her to places that I bet she never would have said, “this is what I want to do, say, and be,” in seasons one and two.

What can you tell us about the relationships? Chris Hollier: What I would say is they’re on the poster; what I would say is also what we want to do is when we look at Max and Liz, we always look at them as two sides of the same coin. How are they the same? How are they different? But like two sides of the same coin, they are linked together in ways that you cannot pull them apart. So, we put that up on its feet to explore really what does that mean? It doesn’t mean that you end up loving that person or sometimes it means like this is the only person for me, and we put that larger question to them to really decide like, “Are we gonna make a go at this or are we better apart?”

Congratulations are in order as well because the show has already been renewed for a season four and season three hasn’t even premiere yet. So what was your reaction when you heard the news? Chris Hollier: I found out on set– quick funny story, I called the two people that like, make the show with me there on the ground, my line producer and my producer/director, and I said, “I’ve got a problem that only the three of us can fix.” They said, “Oh no, what is it?” I said, “They’ve given us 13 more.” So, the greatest thing that I got to do though was go down when they announced it to tell the crew that all of their hard work meant something and that we can continue to employ all these families that I love, during a pandemic, which meant a lot to our entire Roswell group. We make the show together. I truly believe that and so that was the best moment for me is to say, “They’re responding to what we’re doing, they want more of it, and we all get to find a way to be together, even though times are crazy.”

You brought us to our next question because you all filmed this season during the pandemic, and that is such a huge accomplishment. What was it like filming with these insane circumstances and then finally wrapping? Chris Hollier: The biggest thing I think it did for sure is that I think when you watch it for the most part, you’re not gonna feel that. We made that decision again to like– we didn’t even know where the world was gonna be by the time we got to a premiere date; we didn’t know who was going to be president, you know? We had to look at all of that. What I would say the biggest thing that it changed were some of our protocols of the closeness that people could be and I mean that like when it comes to kissing and fighting. I feel it really made us look at telling a story, leaning into telling a story more like a romantic comedy where it’s about longing, rather than necessarily like being together. So we leaned into romance as a way to bolster some of the things that our hands were tied with a little bit.

If you could do a crossover between Roswell, New Mexico and any other CW or Warner Bros. show, which would you pick? Chris Hollier: Oh, that’s funny. I think I have to go back into the Plec universe, where I came from. We gotta mix them with the vampires. Aliens and vampires, I’m ready.

Well, going off of that question, which characters would you be most excited to see interact from those universes? Chris Hollier: I would love to see Hope Mikaelson meet Liz Ortecho. Or Hope Mikaelson and Rosa might be a good pairing; I bet those two could get into some trouble. A little science, a little magic, what could go wrong?

If you could create a tagline or phrase to get fans hyped for season three, what would you pick? Chris Hollier: I would say that this season is a crossroads moment for all of our characters. They’re going to have to make the next huge decisions of their life, and the villain that shows up is forcing all of them to redefine who they are as people and their relationships with one another.

Are there any themes that you’re excited for fans to see in this upcoming season or is there any sort of message that you hope to give them with the season? Chris Hollier: I would say almost as a reaction to everything going on the world last year, while we made this, that we saw a lot of stories of people trying to divide people. We were drawn to ideas about how you’re tested to do that and how you still come together. So, these are stories about how there are always people and always ideas that will try to divide us, but a real hero, really good people stand up and find a way to still bond with others in that time.

Are there any memorable moments that when you look back on filming the season now that you’re preparing for the premiere, that really stick out to you as a nice memory from the experience? Chris Hollier: There’s a nice memory where there was a moment in the middle of the season, around episode seven, where a lot of our characters on the show were all in one space together and that’s something that doesn’t happen. That’s also something because of COVID, we started off this season like we can’t really even do that. So, there was a moment where we’re all standing outside and we were gonna blow something up, everyone was there and there was a great energy that we were doing it safely, together.

Is there a favorite dynamic that you enjoy creating and seeing come to life on screen? Chris Hollier: Let me answer it this way, for this season, we looked at characters on our show that never had scenes together and we found ways to put people together in ways that we never have. We looked around like Max and Alex have never had scenes together. So, we found ways to put them together. Rosa and Michael have never had scenes together, so we found ways to put them together. That was most fun and it added a level of joy to all these actors who started to realize like, “Oh my god, I love this person off screen. I get to act with them now!” So, it gets everyone invested.

Lastly, is there an episode that you are most excited for fans to see? Chris Hollier: I think that episode eight is a highlight for me, it’s a Maria heavy episode. It’s an episode that a third of it takes place in people’s minds. I think that’ll be fun. I’m excited for where we’re going near the end with some of the crazy places that the show ended up in that I promise fans won’t see come episode one. We really just pushed what we could possibly do and how to get there; we continually, especially, I’d say the last half, wrote ourselves into corners that we couldn’t see the way out of, when we did that episode. So, I think that’ll be challenging for the audience to have to come back like, “How do they get out of this?”

#chris hollier #rnm cast interviews #rnm spoilers #rnm 3x08 #roswell new mexico s3 #long post is long

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harlot-of-oblivion · 4 years

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Tales of Miss Fortune

It’s been awhile since you’ve heard a certain red devil callin’ but you soon find yourself fighting alongside Dante when trouble comes a knockin’.

Here’s the rootin’ tootin’ spooky treat I’ve been promising for weeks! Happy Halloween and Blessed Samhain, y’all! 🌹🤠🌹

Rated Explicit for: Vampire and DT Smut, Blood Drinking, and the usual violent demonic fighting with the addition of vampiric dusting.

Chapter 1: Fallin’ for a Gun Street Girl

Some people believe that there’s life after death while others say it’s just an underwhelming ending. You used to think the latter until experiencing the cold embrace of death for yourself. Now, you know that there’s a way to live a life after death…just not in the way that most folks tend to envision, such as spending an eternity in heavenly paradise or burning in hell.

Death truly is a cruel mistress to the living, but to vampires such as yourself…let’s just say that you and death have been bedfellows for well over a century now.

And you would think that someone would change after being dead for as long as you have, and yet here you are…still hanging out at rowdy bars, observing small groups of people gathered around various tables from your usual spot in the corner. It feels like any other normal night; the cackling of drunk patrons and clinking of numerous bottles is like music to your ears. But you feel like there’s something missing…and you finally figure out what it is after catching yourself looking up with every swing of the front entrance for the past hour.

Dante is a no show…again.

Your eyes glance down at the empty chair sitting right next to you, wondering if he’s been busy since the last time you saw him or just plain avoiding you altogether. Neither of you made any plans to hook up after that night in his shop, so you aren’t really surprised by the lack of interest. Afterall, the Legendary Devil Hunter has better things to do than to hang around a dead woman…at least, that’s what you tell yourself while pushing him out of your thoughts.

But you quickly find that it’s easier said than done as your eyes dart towards the pool tables, shivering at the memory of your own game of strip pool with him. It was one of the most fun nights of your undead life…hell, you can’t even remember a time where you were that happy when you were alive! But you know that getting attached to mortals usually invites trouble, and you don’t want to be a burden for an exceptional mortal like the Son of Sparda himself.

I’m bettin’ it was just a one-time thing anyway, you surmise, tearing your eyes away from the pool table while kicking your feet up on the table. He’s probably found someone alive and a lot prettier than-

The sudden screams of terror just outside the bar brings your thought to screeching halt. The few patrons who aren’t shit faced drunk immediately notice the commotion before bolting towards the exit. You tip your hat up and tilt your head with interest, listening to the inhuman shrieks that ring out like a hellish choir while everyone else starts panicking. It only takes a few more seconds and a couple more guttural growls before everybody gets wise enough in their drunken stupor to start rushing out.

Almost all of the drunkards are gone when the front windows explode in spray of glass. A horde of demons come barreling through and instantly set their malevolent sights on the stragglers, raising their jagged blades and claws high in the air before moving in for the kill. But you prove to be a lot quicker on the draw with your guns as you shoot each demon in speedy succession, distracting them long enough for the rest of the patrons to get away and live for another day.

“Hoo wee!” you yowl as the horde turns their attention towards you still sitting in the corner with your legs propped up on the table. “I’ve never got a good look at you demons before…y’all look like the hindquarters of bad luck!” you admit with a small shrug while the ugly sons of bitches start closing in on you. “But that’s alright…” You kick your feet off of the table before using some of your vampiric strength to fling it towards the center of the group, knocking a few demons down with a splintering crack.

“Cos yer about to meet Miss Fortune herself!” you boast, cocking both of your guns before raising them up in a challenge.

The demons hiss and spit like a herd of angry cats while spreading out through the bar, ignoring the obvious gap you’ve created with the table. You’ve never tangled with fiendish entities before, but this tells you that these demons aren’t the brightest crayons in the box. Your lips curl into a cocky grin as you aim your trusty guns towards the first casualties of this hellish brawl.

“C’mon now! It ain’t good manners to keep a lady waitin’!”

Your final taunt pushes them to pounce at once, giving you an opening to dash through the gap you made in a blink of an eye. You run past the broken remains of the table before turning around and taking aim, boosting your speed with blood while taking the first of many more shots. Misery and Woe were custom made to handle supernatural entities, and it seems they do just fine on demonic threats judging by the guttural screams of pain. All of them drop dead one after the other in a satisfying spray of blood within seconds, standing no chance against your heightened sense of accuracy and deadly aim.

“Huh…well, that was easy,” you quietly quip while reloading your guns.

Another round of demonic howls echo just outside the now thoroughly trashed and bullet ridden bar. Your keen sense of hearing detects the rustling of fighting and some gunshots among the ruckus. Something deep down in your gut knows who it is that’s letting loose on them demons…and you can’t help feeling a little excited at the thought of seeing him again.

You quickly make your way outside, breaking the front door off its hinges as you zoom out of the bar. The familiar scent of blood greets your nose as you scan the numerous bodies of dead demons on the street. Your eyes shift from side to side, scanning the area for any sign of who may be responsible for this onslaught of pure and utter chaos.

“Howdy, Darlin’.”

Your instincts kick in as you swing around and point your guns at the devil of your desire. His cheeky smirk widens as he casually approaches, bringing back memories of the pool game you’ve been trying to forget for both of your sakes. You slowly lower your arms while shaking your head in disbelief before flashing him with a confident grin.

“Well, well…look who finally decided to grace me with his devilish presence!” you exclaim with just a hint of sarcasm. “It only took a horde of demons and some gunfire to summon ya, but now that you’re here…” You pause when more demonic screeches echo in the distance, turning your head to glance over your shoulder at the oncoming wave of demons before looking back at him with a toothy grin.

“Wanna have some fun, Cowboy?”

Dante chuckles as he stands next to you. “With you…always,” he replies with a flirty wink before brandishing a huge sword from out of nowhere.

Your heart would be fluttering at his words if it were still beating, but there’s no time to dwell on these cumbersome emotions with imminent danger around the corner. You tip your hat to him before raising your guns just as more demons come running down the street. Both of you keep your ground to the very last second until springing into action.

Dante sprints towards the oncoming horde while you hang back and spray them with a hail of bullets. You admire the sheer power behind every stroke of his blade from afar, yearning to feel his robust arms around you again while shooting down more and more demons. C’mon now…this ain’t no time to be droolin’ like a waterfall, you mentally berate yourself before honing all of your focus on the task at hand. It only takes a few minutes for both of you to mow down the majority of demons before he brings up the obvious with his laid-back yet direct flair.

“So, I uh…haven’t seen ya since that night at my shop.”

Your face falls flat as you lower your guns. “Really, Dante? You wanna get into it right now?”

“Seems as good as any other time,” he retorts with a shrug before cutting down the last demon left standing with a broad sweep of his sword.

“And I suppose you’ve been avoiding my usual haunt since then for no particular reason either, hmm?” you ask while gesturing towards the bar with your head before raising a brow at him.

“I’ve been busy with a couple jobs lately,” he explains, resting his sword on his shoulder while walking up to you. “And besides, you know where I live,” he points out with a nod of his head as he stands right in front of you. “I even left ya an open invitation so that you can freely enter the shop whenever you want, Darlin’.”

His striking blue eyes glow in the moonlight as he scans your face, longing to see them spark with desire again. Your head starts spinning as the scent of gunpowder and leather mixed with a little blood wafts under your nose. You want to tell him that you miss his rousing company, his rowdy laughter, his searing hot kisses…but your keen ears pick up the rustle of fast approaching steps just behind him.

You quickly step to the side and take aim before firing at the pissed off demon. He whips around with Ebony and Ivory at the ready, but you beat him to punch as the demon falls dead on the ground. “Ooh! Better luck next time, Cowboy,” you crow with a playful smirk while holstering your guns.

Dante lets out a soft bark of laughter while shaking his head. “Next time, huh? I really like the sound of that.”

You chuckle and bite your lower lip as your hunger for him begins to stir. “Me too. It’s just…I got the impression that you didn’t wanna…what I mean to say is-”

“It’s not customary for our kind to engage in such barbaric relations with mortals.”

Both of you swing around towards the source of the phantom response, guns pointed down a dark alleyway. You glare at a pair of vampires walking out of the shadows before fanning out as eight more reveal themselves while swiftly surrounding you. One of them tilts his head as he inspects Dante with a critical eye. Your heightened senses tell you that he must be the leader since his blood is the most potent out of all of them.

“But I suppose a hybrid such as yourself would be an exception.”

Dante chuckles softly. “Looks like we got some party crashers,” he casually comments while turning so that both of your backs are pressed together.

All of the vampires quietly laugh as their daunting stares pin both of you down like a pack of ravenous wolves. You glance down at the bloody street, noting that this is the first time you’ve encountered your own kind around these parts…which is odd since that’s exactly why you hangout around here to begin with. But now you can’t swing a damn lasso without roping one on the very same night of a random demon attack!

The more you think about it…the more it reeks of something fishy.

“All this your handy work, I presume?” you inquire, motioning to the carnage all around you with a flick of your wrists.

The lead vampire smiles and turns to you. “In a manner of speaking…we simply pointed out that an infamous devil hunter frequents this very lively bar.”

Your eyes narrow at the implication of his words. “An ambush, huh?” You turn your head and meet Dante’s befuddled gaze. “Who’d you piss off this time?”

“Hell if I know,” he mutters while shrugging his shoulders.

You chortle at his carefree attitude and ready yourself for the challenging fight ahead. Dante turns and addresses the lead vampire with his disarming smirk. “We’re kinda in the middle of something, so if you could just-”

The vampire closest to the leader interrupts by loudly humming in delight. “No wonder our mistress sent us to collect such a delectable prize.”

Dante ignores the obvious attempt at flirtatious intimidation. “Well, I’m real flattered and all, but-”

“HE’S MINE!”

Your feral growl grabs everybody’s attention as you make a show of flashing your fangs, warning everyone to back off before things get messy. “Ooooh! Looks like this one’s already been claimed,” another vampire chimes in before letting out a baleful cackle.

“And here I thought we could talk this out like civilized kin,” the leader laments with a shake of his head.

The lustful vampire laughs before inflaming your possessive fury by sauntering up closer. “Such a shame that someone as old and infamous as you would be meeting her Final Death over-”

It only takes one explosive round from Misery aimed straight at their mouth to shut them the fuck up. The redolent air instantly becomes hostile as that vampire crumples down on the street, helplessly twitching while the remaining vampires snarl and hiss with outrage. Dante summons his sword and crouches down into a ready stance while you cock your other gun.

“I ain’t one to repeat myself but lemme make it very fuckin’ clear for y’all,” you begin, slowly raising Woe at the first vampiric casualty of this unfortunate encounter. “If any of you worthless ticks so much as touch a white hair on his head…” You aim and pull the trigger, reducing them to a pile of smoldering ashes with the force of your second shot.

“I’ll have ya begging for mercy before sprinkling yer ashes all over this goddamn street.”

And with that one final warning, the leader raises a hand and signals the rest of his cohorts to attack. Dante springs into action while you stand your ground, waiting until they get close enough until the very last second. You turn into mist just as one vampire raises a hand to swipe at you with their vicious claws, sifting through their bodies and reforming right behind them.

The barrels of Misery and Woe glisten in the pale moonlight as you let loose a barrage of bullets at inhuman speed. Two more vampires turn into dust while another clutches the back of their wounded head as they drop to the ground. You reload your guns as quick as a flash and take aim to finish the job, but the only survivor of your sly tactic zooms by and slashes your shoulder.

You snarl as sharp pain shoots down your arm, distracting you from weaker prey and focusing your attention on the asshole who ruined your favorite leather jacket. This vampire is almost as fast as you, swinging his clawed fists with precision towards the few vital points of your body. But you prove to be not only faster but wilier as well, dodging every single one of his blows while leading him towards some burning debris in the street.

You feint to left before shifting right as soon as they’re close to the flames, purposely letting him puncture your shoulder while using a large portion of blood to boost your strength. Your jaw clenches tight, holding back your yelp of pain as he growls victoriously at their measly accomplishment. But the joke’s really on him as you holster one of your guns before extending your nails into razor sharp claws.

Your lips curl into a devious grin. “You must be feeling pretty lucky right about now,” you note, making sure he meets your unwavering gaze. “But lemme fill ya in on a little secret…”

You swiftly jab your hand up straight towards his chest, long claws striking true with their target as they pierce his lifeless heart. His face contorts with agonizing shock as you twist your wrist, burrowing deeper until the tip of your claws stab through his back. You easily lift him up off the ground before turning around towards the blazing fire.

“No one’s lucky so long as Miss Fortune’s in town.”

You hurl him straight into the fire with one strong thrust, dislodging your claws from his chest before pulling your hat down in front of your eyes while turning away. The hot flash of flames lights up the night while tormented screams echo down the street, sending chills down your spine as you struggle to remain in control. Your feet move of their own accord away from the flaring threat, instinctually knowing that your quarry has met his Final Death.

Your eyes zero in on your previous prey limping away from the fray. You dash right up them and stomp your foot on their back, keeping them still as you carefully aim for the killing shot. Your finger slowly squeezes the trigger, relishing in their pitiful plea for mercy before ending their miserable undead life. But you don’t have long to delight in the bloodbath as Dante’s harsh grunt meets your ears, bringing your attention back over to his side of the fight.

Multiple piles of ash now litter the street alongside demon corpses. Dante is engaged with the only vampire left, which happens to be the leader himself. You get ready for a real challenge by reloading your guns with explosive bullets, but all logical thought flies out the window when you witness this leech attempting to…bite…and feed…

Something in the darkest recesses of your mind snaps and you suddenly find yourself using more blood to boost your speed before hurtling towards the object of your ire. The leader senses your approach and tries to act accordingly, but Dante seizes the chance to turn around and swing his sword at him. The blade cuts a deep gash across the leader’s neck and a thick spray of blood spatters across Dante’s face as you close in on your target.

“If a man is the sum of his misfortunes…” You stop just short of running into him and swiftly shove both barrels of Misery and Woe into his gaping mouth. “Then you’re one unlucky sonuvabitch,” you finish, enjoying the fear in his eyes as you pull both triggers.

You let out a satisfied growl as his undead brain gets blown to bits, smirking as his blood splatters across your face. He falls to his knees but the bastard refuses to meet his Final Death, still swiping his clawed hands around clumsily. But Dante swoops in and lops off his head with a single sweep of his sword before you can take aim with your guns.

The leader’s body crumbles to ash, leaving just the two of you in a sea of dusty carnage. You look at your devilish lover just as he turns his gaze towards you; both of you are covered in blood and still buzzing from the battle. Your keen hearing picks up his rapid breathing and heartbeat, which only stokes your flickering hunger into a blazing inferno.

“Dante,” you purr sensually while holstering your guns.

“Oh fuck,” he murmurs hoarsely before stalking over to you.

You meet him halfway before both of you just pounce on each other. Dante wraps his arms around your waist while your hands encircle his neck before both of your lips crash down and meet in a desperately heady kiss. You moan as he slips his tongue past your fangs while the scent of leather and gunpowder drives you wild. Finally seeing him fight and absolutely covered in gore pushes you to indulge in what you’ve been secretly missing since that night at the shop.

And it seems Dante agrees since his hands grope your ass and urge you to jump into his embrace. You oblige and hop into arms, wrapping your legs around his waist while nibbling on his lower lip with your fangs. He groans softly and tears his mouth from your starving lips before turning his face away, baring his neck to you as he treks back towards the bar. Your predatory gaze hones in on the pulsating vein being kindly offered, swiftly leaning in and scraping your fangs against his skin before sinking in for a luscious feast.

Dante grunts at your bite but his hurried pace never slows as he arrives at the entrance of the bar. He steps over the broken door and heads to the closet surface that isn’t totally ripped to shreds: the fucking pool table. But you don’t even care to comment with wry quip with his deliciously smooth blood trickling down your throat…he could’ve fucked you right then and there on the street and you wouldn’t have cared so long as his crimson nectar was on your tongue.

You suck a few more greedy mouthfuls as he sets you down, taking note of his strategic position of facing the entrance before tearing away from his neck. He instantly captures your bloody red lips with his hungry mouth, swirling his tongue around your fangs as he clutches you tight against his body. You feel the pin prick of claws press against your hips before he tears your jeans along with your panties, shredding them off until you’re only wearing your cowboy boots below your waist.

Your heightened sense of hearing catches the sound of approaching trouble a few meters outside of the bar. Dante notices too as he tears away from your lips and tilts his head towards the sound of approaching adversaries. His lips curl into a cheeky grin as he kneels down between your legs while reaching behind his back.

“Do me a favor and shoot down whatever comes our way while I take care of business down here,” he requests, brandishing both of his guns with a twirl before handing them over.

You take the guns just as a couple of demons come hurling through the shattered windows. “Sure thing, Cowboy,” you comply with a wicked grin.

Your hands swivel around and take aim while Dante dives in between in your legs, licking and sucking your wet cunt as you fire rapid shots at the encroaching demons. You gasp and moan between shots as he finds just the right spot, flicking and twirling his tongue while his nose rubs your clit in the most maddening way. This causes you to miss a few shots due to the delectable distraction down below, swearing up a storm with every errand bullet.

Dante silently chuckles at every curse word that flies from your mouth. “What’s the matter?” he pipes up between lavish licks, gazing up at you with a mischievous red gleam in his eyes. “I thought an infamous pistolero like yourself wouldn’t be so easily distracted!”

You hiss at his playful jeer while shooting down a demon that got really close to the pool table. “Less talkin’ and more lickin’, Cowboy,” you quip back, deciding that you would have better luck with your aim by switching positions. You clench your thighs around his head and swiftly turn your body around until you’re riding his face.

“Mmm, you’re gonna meet the devil at this rate, Darlin’,” he murmurs against your slit, nipping and sucking your folds before his tongue strokes even deeper inside you.

You feel like you’re floating away while shooting down the remainder of the demonic wave, twitching in pleasure until finally coming on his scruffy face with an ecstatic moan as you fully give into his devilish tongue. He greedily suckles every pulse of your cunt, slurping every drop of your pleasure as you fall against the soft green surface of the pool table. An intense heat emanates from his mouth as he slowly pulls away from in between your thighs, and you look over your shoulder to see a most wondrous and intimidating sight.

A true devil with smoldering red scales and spikey plating is standing behind you, smirking with familiar lips while glowing red eyes roam your prone body. You’ve only heard rumors about his demonic form but to see it for yourself is truly astonishing…and incredibly arousing. You lift yourself up from the pool table with a soft grunt and shuck off your long leather jacket before leaning back down, making a show of spreading your legs nice and wide.

His gravelly growl sends pleasant tingles down your spine as you give him a good view of your ass and sopping wet cunt. You peek over your shoulder and flash him a naughty grin. “C’mon, Cowboy,” you purr while wiggling your hips provocatively. “Show me how a real devil rides in the rodeo.”

Dante chuckles huskily while grabbing your hips with his clawed hands. “Are ya ready, Darlin’?” he asks gruffly, wrapping one arm around your waist and pulling you up towards his crimson chest before pressing his lips close to your ear. “Cos I’m gonna have you screaming my name all night.”

You gasp as an unfamiliar length slides in between your slick thighs, surprising you with its unusual yet tantalizing texture. Your eyes glance down and catch a glimpse of his member as it glides against your slick slit, noting its reddish black color and thick ridges all around the shaft. You whimper at the thought of his devilish cock slipping inside you, stretching you out while filling you up to the brim…just the feel of it has your thighs clenching around him with anticipation.

Sharp fangs nibbling on your ear breaks you out of your carnal daze. You thrust your hips back against him while reaching back to grab one of the long spikes protruding from his head. Another fiendish growl makes your body quiver as he turns your head to capture your lips with a searing hot kiss. He gently guides you to bend over the pool table, never breaking away from your wanton mouth while adjusting himself between your legs.

Dante slowly slides every inch of his ribbed cock inside you, pulling a pleased moan from your throat as his tongue licks one of your elongated fangs. You softly whine as he finally bottoms out, silently begging him to give you a taste before the imminent display of shameless debauchery. One corner of his mouth quirks into a smirk as he cuts the flat of tongue against your fang. You revel in the thick smokiness of his blood while his clawed hands rip your buttoned shirt open and slice your cotton bra between the cups before groping your breasts.

You ready yourself for one helluva ride…but both of you break away from each other’s lips as the clamor of more approaching demons meet your keen ears. Dante lets out an irritable growl while you reach for his guns still lying out on the pool table. You flip them around in a flashy fashion before presenting them with flourish above your head.

“I believe it’s your turn to do the shootin’, Cowboy.”

A sudden blast of blistering heat hits your back, almost blowing your gambler hat off as he gives your breasts one last squeeze before withdrawing with a teasing scrape across your nipples. He takes his trusty weapons from your grasp and points Ebony towards the entrance while resting Ivory just above your navel as he wraps his arm around your waist. You would be holding your breath if you still had the ability to breathe as he waits for trouble to come knocking, staying completely still until the very last moment…

Dante slowly pulls out, leaving only the tip inside you while the first wave of demons come crawling through the broken windows. Then, he slams his hips back against you with a sharp slap as he fires the first of many shots. You moan unabashedly as he sets a steady pace, pounding into you with brutal force while shooting down a stream of demons. It doesn’t take you long to reach your peak again, coming from the new sensation of his devilish cock while a barrage of bullets whiz through demonic skulls.

Your body falls limp against the pool table as Dante swings Ivory towards the back of the bar. He fires a rapid hail of bullets as more demons come through the back entrance while keeping his ruthless pace. The metallic ring of bullet casings bouncing off the hardwood floor keeps the insatiable flame of your desire burning as your hunger demands more blood and more pleasure.

You lift one of your legs up onto the pool table, resting your knee against the edge while propping yourself up on your arms. Then, you thrust your hips back to meet every hard pump of his cock, keening with every brush against your sweet spot as he buries himself even deeper inside you. Your ears pick up some faint cursing as some of his shots fly by a few encroaching targets.

“What’s the matter?” you ask as he points Ebony towards the demons. “I thought an infamous devil hunter like yourself wouldn’t be so easily distracted,” you taunt, mirroring his exact words from earlier while looking over your shoulder and meeting his smoldering gaze.

Dante growls and quickly disposes of the remaining demons, wrapping both arms around you as soon as the last one disintegrates with a pitiful shriek. He pulls you up until your back meets his glowing red chest and picks up the pace, scaly hips slapping against your ass while his warm grunts puff against your cool skin. The slide of Ivory presses against your breast while the barrel of Ebony rests above the apex of your thighs, rubbing your clit with every hard thrust as he nuzzles the back of your head. You groan as intense pleasure starts to build up again, making you mumble incoherently while holding onto his arms with your bruising grip.

You tilt your head and bare your neck, hoping that he sees the invitation to partake of you. The exhilarating feel of sharp fangs nipping and grazing along the soft flesh you’ve exposed lets you know that he got the message. His guttural purr sends tiny tremors of delight throughout your body, making you ache for his bite as you rush towards rapturous release.

Dante drags his demonic tongue against your neck before sinking his fiendish fangs into your supple flesh. His name bursts from your lips as you tumble over the edge again, body shaking in his fervid embrace as he takes a couple swigs of your blood. “Mmm…fuck, I’ve missed the taste of you,” he groans against your neck, relentlessly thrusting through your orgasm and smacking his lips before going back for more.

The rustle of something unfurling knocks you out of the hazy aftershocks of your mind-numbing orgasm. You glance over your shoulder just as Dante spreads his demonic wings out wide. Their swirly red patterns hypnotizes you, pulsing with his heartbeat while gradually glowing brighter as he chases his own pleasure. You moan at the impressive display of power while leaning down against the pool table, silently encouraging him to fuck you with wild abandon by thrusting your ass back with enthusiastic fervor.

Dante drops both of his guns on the pool table and grips your hips with his wickedly sharp claws. His booming growl sends darts of pleasure straight down through your cunt as he pounds into you with renewed vigor. Your enraptured moans mingle with his gravelly growls as both of you come careening over the edge together among the blood and gore. You scream his name over and over while he cums in great spurts, slicking your cunt with his white-hot seed as the lewd squelching from his frenzied thrusts echo throughout the ruined bar.

Both of you ride the pleasurable wave, gasping and writhing against each other to the very end. You collapse against the pool table while Dante leans over and rests atop your back, warming the crook of your neck with his panting breath. Your thighs twitch as his cum drips out from your sated sex, making you feel some carnal satisfaction deep within the primal recesses of your mind.

You let out a blissful sigh while leaning back to nuzzle his spiky head, softly purring as his warm lips press numerous kisses against your neck. You bask in this tender moment, giving into this feel of emotional closeness before the inevitable parting of your ways. But you don’t have time to dwell on that bittersweet notion as the familiar sense of dawn approaching washes over you.

Your entire being instantly reacts to the slow ascension of the sun, quaking in fear while wriggling out of the warm embrace of your devilish lover. “Whoa! Easy there,” he coos as you reach for your long leather jacket. “What’s the hurry, Darlin’?”

“The sun…I can feel it rising,” you explain, quickly slipping both of your arms through your jacket before buttoning it up. “I gotta go…but I dunno if I can make it to my sanctuary before…” you trail off, trembling at the thought of meeting your Final Death under the rays of the morning sun.

“You can stay at the shop if you want.”

His nonchalant offer gives you pause as your head snaps over your shoulder, noting that he’s reverted back to his human form. You think it over for a moment, weighing the pros and cons of taking him up on his gracious offer. “If you have a dark basement…or a way to block all sunlight from entering a vacant room,” you suggest, desperately hoping that he really means it since his place is a lot closer than the crypt that serves as your temporary home at the local cemetery.

Dante cups your face with both of his hands. “I won’t let anything happen to you during the day,” he swears while meeting your frantic gaze.

You stare into his striking blue eyes, searching for the slightest hint of deception among their depths…but the genuine gleam within his unwavering stare eases your worried mind. Your lips curve into a grateful smile while clasping his arm with one hand before tipping your hat in appreciation. “Then you better ride like the wind, Cowboy,” you murmur, swiftly bringing your face closer by raising yourself up on your tippy toes.

“Don’t wanna end up as a pile of ash before giving ya hell for ruining my one good pair of jeans,” you softly tease while nipping at his lips with your fangs.

His breathy chuckle brushes against your face. “Didn’t hear ya complaining at the time…too busy having a drink on me,” he teases right back before capturing your lips with a scorching kiss, making you moan softly while both of your tongues gently glide across each other.

Your insatiable hunger starts to stir once more, but the nagging urge to seek shelter from the rising sun wrangles it back as you break away from his lips with a rueful sigh. Dante smirks knowingly as he reaches for his guns on the pool table, holstering them behind his back before leading you out of the destroyed bar. He summons Cavaliere while you hiss and turn away from the flashing light of false dawn.

“C’mon, Darlin’,” he murmurs, gently guiding you towards his fiendish ride.

You hop on and make yourself comfortable while he swings one leg over and sits down behind you. “Better hurry…I’m already…” you mumble, barely able to keep your eyes open while fighting off the familiar feel of falling into torpor.

“Don’t worry, I’ll carry ya into the shop and protect you during the day,” he whispers by your ear, wrapping one arm around your waist while his other hand revs the engine.

“Promise?”

“You have my word, Darlin’.”

Dante puts the pedal to metal with those final words of assurance, zooming down the street at breakneck speed towards the shop. Your lips curl into a fond smile as you do your best to hold on during the ride while fighting off the need to rest. But you know that’s a fool’s errand, so you close your eyes and leave yourself in the capable hands of your remarkable devil.

And as you finally succumb to the lull of torpor, you remind yourself that getting attached to Dante will only invite more trouble down the road…but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

I’d like to thank @bettybattaglia for her wonderful suggestion about missing gun shots! And I gotta give a shout out to @varen-neoraven for beta reading for me!

Tagging: @drusoona @exsultry @a-midsummer-nights-odyssey @leviathan-dee

#dante #dante x reader #devil may cry #dmc #cowgirl vampire reader #Tales of Miss Fortune #Fallin' for a Gun Street Girl #back in the saddle and ready to ride!#YEEHAW! 🌹🤠🌹#harlot writes

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babbushka · 4 years

Note

Good morning!! Omg please use “You’re so fucking hot when your mad” from the smut prompts for Flip! Thank you!!! 💗

(2.5k [this one got out of hand sorry lol] double penetration, spit as lube/come as lube, multiple orgasms)

He kicks the door a little too harsh, when he comes home. He tries, you know, tries. He tries not to bring home the bullshit from work, tries to leave it all at the station. He loves his job but fuck they really don’t make it easy sometimes, they don’t make it easy to feel like he’s doing something good.

But he tries, because he’s home, and at home is all he ever wants to be, with you is all he ever needs. So he takes a deep breath, puts his keys in the little dish by the door, shrugs out of his sherpa coat. Not before taking out a pack of camels, sticking one between his teeth and lighting it, but still. He’s better now, in a better mood, even if he kicks the door a little too harsh.

“Honey? I’m home.” He calls out as is his tradition.

It started as a funny little howdy-doody thing, he doesn’t remember when exactly he said it first. But he said it, and it had made you smile, and you’re smiling now as you come into the foyer from wherever you had been waiting for him, and that’s what mattered.

“Phil!” You’re bright eyed for him even though it’s two in the morning. Standing in your pretty robe with your hair catching the low-light from the kitchen where if he looks he can see some dinner kept on the heater for him, dinner that smells so fucking delicious that he wants to cry. You can tell, and your smile softens as you open your arms for him with a gentle, “Hey.”

He steps out of his boots and sucks down some nicotine and tries not to run into your arms. He gets there, and you hold him, squeeze him real tight in those capable arms of yours, and he gets himself all angry again, all worked up, all pissed off.

Why should he have to spend hours cutting through red tape when it all leads to nowhere, when he could be sitting at home with you, with his wife, with his best friend? It doesn’t seem fair, and he’s angry about it, angry that they’re shelving the case. What a waste of time.

“Hey ketsl.” He sighs, holding you and letting himself be held, there in the foyer.

“Bad day?” You whisper, tucking your head under his chin. He’s the perfect height for it, and he kisses the top of your forehead enough that you’re huffing out a little laugh from the tickle of his goatee.

“Can you tell?” He asks, even though he knows it’s a dumb question – you’re a better detective than he is most days.

“I can always tell honey.” You pull your arms up around his neck, twirl some of his soft hair around your finger as you press yourself real close. “Want to talk to me about it?”

“Honestly? I want to fuck you about it.” He mutters, because the thought of you, the thought of your body so sweet and lush around him calms him down.

He realizes he’s got a death grip on you then, and you shimmy out of it ever so slightly, just enough to undo the sash of your robe, let it fall to the ground.

You’re naked, not a stitch of nothing on you except for a littering of bruises and marks he’d given you before he’d gone to work, and the blood rushes from his brain to his cock so fast it makes him dizzy.

You forget sometimes, that he was a military man. You forget until he’s picking you up and hoisting your body over his shoulder like some sack of potatoes, until he’s carrying you down to the fire in the living room and laying you down real easy. His hands are quick as the cigarette ash flicks into the rug, and your legs are already spreading for him.

“God fucking – dammit – fucking,” He curses as his zipper sticks, your hands coming to the rescue.

He kisses you, hard, bruising. He’s all tongue and teeth as he sucks on your lips, growing angrier and angrier by the minute. Why did he have to spend all that fucking time on the case when he could be here, be home, kissing you instead? You moan into his mouth just from that, from making out too rough by the fire – it feels like the most important thing he’s done all week, making you moan.

“I was hoping you’d come home soon, I was starting to get antsy without you.” You say as he attacks your neck with hickies and crooked crescents of his teeth.

“I thought about you all goddamned day, going blind over paperwork for no fuckin’ reason ketsl I thought of you, I wanted to be here.” He rushes out to say through grit teeth, jaw clenching so hard he’s afraid something might snap.

But then you’ve got all the buttons on his flannel undone, and he’s shrugging out of that too, yanking his undershirt over his head, and your hands are hot like the fireplace all over his skin, feeling him up, feeling his muscles.

He needs to move away just the barest hint to get his jeans and briefs off, but the second he does he wastes little time prying your legs open, dragging you the few inches closer to him, sinking his cock into your wanting pussy with no trouble at all.

“Fuck – fuck Flip,” You moan, “Hard, fuck me hard.”

And he does, oh he does. He corrals your legs around his hips, and you lock your ankles together so he can lean over you, cover your whole body with his, fuck you into the rug so bad you’ll burn about it later. He’ll rub you down with lotion and then fuck you again for it, you know he will, and it’s all worth it because his cock is huge and fills you so completely that it feels like there’s no air in your lungs, only him.

“Ketsl this pussy is the best fucking thing I’ve ever had.” He grunts, hard and fast and angry angry angry, sweat dripping off the tip of his nose onto your face.

You smile, before your mouth drops into a real pretty O because you’re gasping because he’s fucking your gspot hard.

He wants you to come as many times as he can, wants to feel it when your thighs quake around him, when your body squirms under him. He’s not letting you go until you’re nearly delirious from it, because that’s all he needs, that’s all he wants; to give you so much pleasure it makes up for him being gone eighteen hours today.

“Take me take what’s yours take what you want – oh!” You gasp, voice loud in the dark. You come, and he grins, kisses your cheeks all over for it, sweaty and sticky as you shake rattle roll under him. He’s not done with you, not by a longshot.

He squeezes his eyes shut and rams into you hard, pushes your body up up up the rug, fucks you fast, skin slapping on skin. Your arms and legs are wrapped around him like a vice, your pussy hot and tight on his cock as it takes the pounding, the curve of his cock stretching you in all the right ways.

“Say my name, I’m gonna get you coming again and when I do I want you to say my name, okay ketsl?” His voice is so deep, and he presses it into your skin, makes you cry, makes you shout even while you’re coming, eyes nearly crossed from the pleasure of it.

“Uh huh,” Your chest heaves while he rails you hard, his cock punching your guts and dragging out moan after moan with it, especially when he adds his thick fucking fingers that have you babbling, “Yeah, yesyesyes oh fuck Phil, please – oh! Oh fuck -- !”

He covers your mouth with his and swallows your screams as he grinds his dick into you hard, presses down on your clit harder with spit-slicked hands, and your legs fall from around his hips, feet kicking on the floor from how strong of an orgasm it is, so close after the first.

“So good to me honey-bunny, so fucking good, you’re the only damn thing I ever want, you know that, know how much you mean to me?” Flip praises you because it’s true, because you need to hear it, because he knows you like to hear it.

His hips don’t still, and now you’re openly crying, hiccupping out sobs of pleasure as he fucks you through your second orgasm real easy. He likes you like this, when you’ve got tremors all through your body, tremors that he put there.

“Yes! Oh yes, Flip, honey, yes!” Your back is arching nearly clean off the floor, your head tossing from side to side as your arms stretch out above your head, body bouncing on the rug from how hard he fucks you.

“Open your mouth for me baby.” He grabs your jaw to keep you still, and you do right away, lips parting and accepting whatever he gives you.

He shoves a couple fingers onto your tongue, two fingers that he rubs against the inside of your cheek, makes you suck on them. You grab at his wrist and hold it steady there as you make out with his hand, all while tears cling to your lashes and he thinks you’re the most beautiful fucking woman he’s ever seen in his life.

“Hhhh, I – I – ” You try and get something out but it doesn’t quite work, not really.

He kisses your cheek for the effort though, spit sticking to your smile line when you grin and lave your tongue over his wedding ring. He almost wants to come from that, but he doesn’t, not yet – he wants one more out of you before he’ll let himself come.

He pulls his fingers away from you and slows down enough to stop. He pulls out, making you whine about how you don’t want him to stop, until you’re gasping because he’s shoving those fingers into you, two up your pussy and his thumb on your clit, and then adding his cock back into the mix slowly.

“Oh my god – Philip I’m going to scream I’m – ” You gasp as he fucks you with his fingers inside you, massaging your gspot with his index finger.

“You can do it, you’re so good ketsl, baby you’re so good for me.” He grunts, groans and shakes and sweats for you.

It’s such a weird feeling, getting to feel his cock brushing against his knuckles as it plunges into your pussy. Your cunt takes him like a champ, like he knew it would, and you’re all but convulsing on the floor underneath him, sobbing out pleasured moans, chanting his name.

“Flip – Flip! Phil, honey! Phil I’m gonna – I’m oh fuck!” Your eyes are shut tight as your mouth drops open and you come for the third time, fueling his lust his love his worship of you.

You shake underneath him, riding out the shock of your orgasm, shouting sobbing coming coming coming so hard it almost hurts, your pussy so tight on his fingers and his cock that he’s almost afraid he won’t be able to pull out of you. But then you go limp, exhausted, totally spent for the time being, and he slips his fingers out easily, sucks them into his own mouth and cleans the taste of your come off.

He lets himself spill into you, and then promptly, his arms begin to shake enough that he knows he should lay down. He rolls himself onto his back and takes you with him, you go along easily, settle with your head on his chest as you drool and gasp little quiet moans around his cock.

He takes time to breathe, eyes closed. He reaches for the last few minutes of his cigarette he left abandoned in a little ashtray on the floor, and the nicotine soothes his nerves.

So do you, when you nuzzle your cheek against him. He pets your hair back, happy to be home, happy to be with you. He’s fully sated, and he feels a thousand times lighter than he did when he first came home, and it’s all because of you.

He smiles, a smile which only grows as you get a serious case of the giggles, burying your face into the hard line between his muscular pecs.

“What’s the matter?” He asks, voice husky and deep as your whole face lights up.

“Nothin’.” You lie, and he grins, pinches your nose and gives your face a little shake, you’re so beautiful, all the time. But especially blissed out like this.

“No, it isn’t nothing, I know you.” He tucks your hair behind your ear, caresses your cheek, giving your temple a playful poke, “How come you’re smilin’ so much baby what’s goin’ on in there?”

“Oh Flip,” You roll your eyes at yourself, almost embarrassed when you admit, “You’re so fucking hot when you’re mad.”

“You think so?” Flip raises a brow, even though he’s not surprised. He knew that you thought that, had learned it a long time ago.

“Mhm, something about it, that primal energy.” You waggle a brow of your own, walk two fingers up his chest before tapping the tip of his nose. “It’s incredibly becoming on you, detective.”

“That’s head detective, miss.” He snatches your wrist and kisses it around his cigarette and you only giggle some more.

“My most sincere apologies, sir.” You roll your eyes again playfully, reclaiming your hand and using it to help prop your head up on his chest.

“Why don’t you go upstairs and show me how sorry you really are?” He nods in the direction of the stairs and you groan, half excited at the thought of more sex, and half hating the idea of getting up.

“One condition,” You say, and Flip knows he’d give you anything you ever wanted, all you had to do was say the word, and so you do, but what leaves your lips only makes his heart so soft for you. “You tell me what’s on your mind and eat some dinner with me first.”

“Love you ketsl.” He says quietly, meaning every word of it a thousand times and then some.

“Love you too cowboy.” You press a kiss to a little mole on his neck that you love, before attempting very poorly to pull yourself up and away from him, and failing, the both of you laughing as you try to remember how your legs work.

He’s lucky to have someone that lets him get all his energy out, he knows.

But he’s even luckier to have someone that lets him get it out in a way that’s meaningful, too.

And dammit, he never hit the jackpot any bigger than with you.

#flip zimmerman #flip zimmerman x reader #flip zimmerman/reader #flip zimmerman/you #flip zimmerman x you #flip zimmerman imagine #flip zimmerman fanfic #flip zimmerman smut #flip zimmerman fluff #Anonymous #cowboy answers

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queenxxxsupreme · 4 years

Note

Howdy! Since you were in the mood for fluffy Eskel, I have this image of him searching through the house looking for his spiky jacket and goes to ask reader if she's seen it only to find her wearing it and smirking at him. If it were a shirt I don't think he'd care, but he probably wants that back😂 Maybe him chasing her ending in tickles and cuddles? But all of this only if you want! Thank you for sharing your talent with us and congratulations on 1,200 followers! You earned every one of us!

A/N: That spiky jacket (I learned is called a gambeson) makes me sooooo weak. And thank you babe! I hope you enjoy this!

Warnings: mentions of being pantless??? slight sexual tension but mostly fluff

Eskel let out a huff, throwing the trousers in his hand down onto the bed. Frustrated, he sat down on the edge of the bed. Yellow eyes flickered around the room as he searched his mind for where he had last sat his gambeson down.

He ran a hand over his face, groaning. He knew where he had left it last. He’d put it on the back of a chair in the barn. It needed to be washed badly and he didn’t want to bring it into the house.

Then a thought hit him. You had been doing laundry earlier that day. Perhaps you grabbed his gambeson.

The witcher stood and made his way out into the kitchen. You weren’t there, so he moved around to the main room where he could hear your heart beating.

“Hey, doll? Have you seen my-,” He stopped mid sentence, eyes spotting his red gambeson with black spikes.

You were wearing, laying on the floor in front of the fireplace on your stomach. A book was laying open on the floor in front of you.

You lifted your head to look at your witcher.

“What’s the matter, love?” You asked, playing coy. You gently kicked your feet back and forth in the air behind you.

“I was looking for that.” He nodded to you, eyes flickering down to the gambeson. “I’ve been searching the whole house for it. Thought maybe you’d taken it to wash or something.”

“I did.” You sat up on your knees. “But then once it finished drying I couldn’t just put it down. It’s so warm on the inside.”

“Sorry to break it to you, doll, but I’m going to need that back. Got wind of a hunt just a little ways away from here.”

Silence fell between you two as you held his gaze. The light smirk on your lips grew and Eskel could hear your heart begin to race.

You were on your feet and darting out of the room before he knew it.

He barked out a laugh, then followed you.

You glanced back over your shoulder, spotting him right on your heels. He wasn’t going to give you time to run away from him.

Your laughter warmed the witcher and the smile on your lips made him smile.

You made it into the edge of your room when strong hands grabbed you. A squeal left your lips. Eskel held you close, his arms snaking around you. He kissed the side of your neck and then your cheek.

“As much as I’d love to stay here and chase you around all day, doll, there’s a Leshen that needs to be dealt with.”

You frowned, turning around in his arms. You put your hand on his chest, enjoying the feeling of the dark thatch of hair that covered him.

“Be safe.” You softly told him.

“I’m always safe.” He kissed your cheek, then started to take the gambeson off of you.

You turned around to let him take it off properly, then you moved to retrieve one of his shirts from the wardrobe.

“Don’t you have any of your own clothes to wear?” He chuckled, tossing the gambeson down onto the bed.

“I do, but none of them smell like you.” You smiled shyly at him.

He drew you back in, his hand gently grabbing your wrist. He pulled you into his arms, hands slipping beneath the shirt you wore to tickle you.

You tried to shout his name but you were laughing too much. His fingers worked up your sides and over your ribs.

You collapsed onto the bed, trying to curl up and evade his hands.

He didn’t linger for too long after, knowing very well he needed to leave.

“Maybe one of these days you won’t take my clothes.” He leaned down over top of you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re lucky I don’t need that shirt.”

You smiled, watching him move to the wardrobe to change.

“Maybe yoI should just give me one of your shirts.” You suggested, propping yourself up on one elbow. “Maybe then I wouldn’t steal all yours. I’d have one for myself.”

“Then I wouldn’t have enough shirts!” He laughed softly.

“But I miss you when you’re gone.” You frowned. “Having something to put on that smells like you.”

He frowned too. You moved to sit on your knees at the end of the bed.

“We’ll figure something out. I’ll only be gone the rest of the day. Should be back tonight.” Eskel cupped your face, tilting your head up so you had no choice but to look at him. “I love you.”

“Love you too.” Your eyes fluttered shut momentarily as he kissed between your brows.

His thumb brushed over your cheek, relishing in your warm, soft touch. He didn’t want to leave. The last thing he ever wanted to do was leave. But a Leshen could lead to casualties.

The quiet witcher gave you one last kiss to the lips before he left, taking his gambeson with him.

You sat back on your ankles, wrapping your arms around yourself. For a few moments, you sat there thinking. At first, the thoughts were happy. You wanted to have dinner ready and still warm for Eskel when he got home. It would be a late dinner, but you could sit with him and help him post-hunt.

But then the thoughts became dark. What if he never returned? What if this was his last hunt? What if that was your last kiss from him?

You rubbed your eyes and decided to lay down. If you took a nap, maybe the day would go by quicker and you’d have your witcher sooner.

You sighed, climbing underneath the blankets on his side of the bed.

Taglist: @pressedinthepages @mishafaye @whitewolfandthefox @wolfyland07 @belalugosisdead @persephonehemingway @keira-hulmaster @dinonuggs69 @greatestauthorofmygeneration @shadow-hunters-lover @dancingwith-thesunflowers @tedi-fach-las @thecomfortofoldstorries @raspberrydreamclouds @natkowaa @disasteren @weathervanes-my-oneandlonely @onlyhenrys @wackylurker @criminaly-supernatural @magpie343 @permanently-exhausted-witcher @hina-chans-stuff @the-space-between-heartbeats @havenoffandoms @carriebee1 @ger-bearofrivia @naominami @writingawaymylife @reaganjenelle @theawkwardpedestrian @scarlettwitcher @badassspaceprincess @just-a-sad-donut @summersong69 @an–actual–human–disaster @rubyqueen819 @omgkatinka @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @vonxcon @mazakeen @bravelittlesunflower @thereagles @awkward-turtles-world @menalliha @cotton_mo @maan24 @she-wolfoftheinquisition @titaniafire

#eskel x reader #eskel fluff #eskel x reader fluff #the witcher #1200 followers celebration #kacey answers #anon

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doctors-star · 3 years

Note

“Yeah, I can see how hiding behind a rock is a much better strategy.” for Cowboys??

Sometimes, Ainsel feels that they and Edelweiss are coming to some kind of understanding. That, perhaps, Edelweiss is the type of horse with whom it was possible to have some kind of normal relationship, and generally not the sort of creature to possess too-clever eyes and be prone to depositing Ainsel without memories somewhere they shouldn’t be.

These times are infrequent, and they do not ever last.

Rarely, though, has Ainsel taken quite so strongly against the concept of horses altogether, Edelweiss or otherwise. Normally, their lack of particular equine affinity is not an issue, given that they never need to travel that fast, but in consequence they never did learn how to sit or stand when Edelweiss’ legs are really pumping, apparently delighted at this taste of freedom and the wind in her mane; Ainsel is being galloped across the desert like a bag of jumbled bones with their head tucked in behind Edelweiss’ ear and their fingers wrapped white around the pommel, clinging on for dear life. The sand is kicking up on the wind and spitting against any exposed skin, so their eyes are more like slits and are streaming wildly and all they can really see of the desert and sky is a blur of orange and blue.

The jolting is going to shake their kneecaps right out of their legs. Their spine will be compressed by six inches by the time they get off. Ainsel hates horses, just now.

And then, without any input from Ainsel, Edelweiss is slowing to a gentle trot and then a lazy stop. Ainsel puts their head up a little to push the horse on further, because they have someone to urgently find and no delay can be had - but then they blink, and their sandblasted, watery vision coalesces into the very face of the man they had ridden out to find. When the ringing in their ears from being so thoroughly shaken dissipates too, they can hear Will murmuring to Edelweiss and petting her nose as he casts worried glances at her rider. Ainsel winces; what a clattering they must have made, to pull Will unprompted from his observations.

Ainsel unpeels their fingers from the pommel and attempts to straighten up. The pain is immediate and terrible, lancing up and down their shaken spine, and they list worryingly to one side; they slide into a pair of wiry arms, so they assume Will is rescuing them, but it’s hard to tell, what with the white-out of pain. They end up on the floor, Will being altogether too small to lift anyone over the age of eight, with Williams crouched near their head and looking worried. “Howdy,” Ainsel grits out politely. Will’s frown worsens.

“Alright, who’s done what now,” he says, eyes tracking the length of them as they stretch slowly and awkwardly to catalogue the points of greatest pain. For all that Will Williams is not a doctor, he certainly is getting better at doctoring. He’s less agitated every time: last time Finn had sliced his leg open on a splintered fence, Will had been more annoyed than worried; and these days, he even wraps aching joints and teaches folks how to clean cuts and sores and he went out to see Noel’s husband - God rest him - whenever she asked, even though he couldn’t do anything, until he let her down gently a few weeks before the end. Ainsel is abruptly reminded, with new urgency, of how much they appreciate having not-a-doctor Will Williams around to doctor them all.

“It’s good to have you around,” Ainsel wheezes, their brain-to-mouth filter shaken about a bit by relentless horse riding; Will looks slightly horrified.

“Oh lord,” he says, “are you dyin’?”

Ainsel shakes their head and sits up on their elbows. Will’s palm slides behind the ball of his shoulder to support the motion, warm and steady. “Naw - no-one’s in trouble, promise.”

“Uh huh,” Will says, sounding deeply unconvinced. “And this bat out of hell impression you’ve got going, what’s that in aid of?”

Ainsel makes a face, which Will picks up on immediately. It had been too much to hope that he wouldn’t, of course, and this is all the point anyhow: Ainsel is here to tell Will as early as possible something he may not want to hear, but will eventually find out regardless. He may as well hear it on his own terms.

They had been walking Noel to the hotel for an hour of coffee and polite conversation, for the duration of which they may both pretend that they only know similarly polite and calm individuals. It is...therapeutic. They sometimes bring Will, who can be relied upon for good behaviour, but he’d usually rather be out by the creek or in the prairie grass or in the shade of a cactus pretending he doesn’t know any humans at all; it is, therefore, a surprise to see him standing with his back to them in an expensive pine-green suit at the front desk. Ainsel notes all these details only in hindsight: the broader shoulders, the bowler hat, the set of his stance which is not quite right - like Will, only a good bit older, mirrored and two steps to the left. At the time, though, they had simply seen Will, and not thought a thing of it that Noel should raise the hand not tucked into Ainsel’s elbow and say “Mister Williams! Will you come sit with - oh, I do apologise; I thought you were an acquaintance of ours.”

The man smiles with disproportionate pleasure at being misidentified, leaning forward on his toes in his road-dusty brogues. There is a suitcase at his feet and he is holding his hat to his chest deferentially, but he is still standing in the hotel with a confidence and appearance of belonging that Will has never possessed - possibly ever, but certainly not in a genteel environment like this one. He wears a day’s stubble well, flecked with slightly premature grey, on a jaw which is squarer than Will’s, but just as fine-boned and angular; his voice, when he speaks, sounds like Will when he’s at his most anxious - all old-money, old-country, cold and tall and prickly like the pines in whose snow-capped shadows Will grew up.

“Not at all; perhaps you can help me. You see, I am indeed a Mister Williams - Thomas Williams, ma’am, at your service - and I am seeking a relative of mine who may just be this acquaintance of yours.” Noel makes the appropriate interested noises, but Ainsel goes abruptly cold as though they had broken and tumbled through the surface of a frozen lake, instantaneous and gasping for air. They have this sense of déja vu when looking at Thomas Williams, more than the ordinary familiarity of seeing Will in him - and then they remember. They have seen Will’s big brother before, in the card that had shown them Will’s youth; they barely need to glance at their palm to know that the cards have found their way into their free hand once more, and that the top card is the card that might be the Tower, and might be the Queen of Spades.

“Has something happened?” Ainsel says, interrupting the polite and non-committal conversation Noel is maintaining with the stranger about the quality of the road into Danser Town and the inconvenience of not having a railway out here yet, at every opportunity steering him away from asking her any question about Will’s presence or existence that she might actually have to answer.

Thomas Williams blinks, wrongfooted, but rallies quickly. “I’m afraid my mother has recently died,” he says, and Noel murmurs condolences; Ainsel just watches him. “She and my - cousin were never as close as one might like, but…” Williams casts about, looking away with a shadow over his brow, and Ainsel realises his grief is real and painful - though whether it is for the lost parent, or the lost opportunity to reconcile, they cannot say.

Ainsel nods and tucks the cards back into their pocket, turning solicitously to Noel. “I’m afraid I gotta go; will you be alright-?”

Noel pats their elbow and releases them, message received. Of course Noel will be alright; Ainsel has no idea if she knows what they know about Will’s relation to this stranger, but she sure has gathered that Ainsel is not eagerly bringing one party to the other. “You go, then. I’m sure this fine gentleman will keep me in good company,” she says, fluttering her eyelashes and turning her charm upon Mister Williams like a beam. He blinks in the face of it, and finds himself abandoning his luggage to offer her his arm and lead her to a table almost without noticing.

He certainly had been stunned enough to ignore Ainsel turning on a dime and taking off through the doors at a dead run.

Which leaves them here: lying on the dusty earth in the shadow of a rocky desert outcrop with Will Williams crouched by their head, and wishing that they had sent Tommy or Finn or Johnny out instead - how those bastards make galloping look easy, Ainsel may never know.

Ainsel takes a deep breath, fixes their gaze on Will, and says it firm and simple. “Your brother is here in Danser, and he’s the absolute fuckin’ spit of you, so I don’t reckon you can get away with him not knowing you’re here.”

Will, in an action which is either a credit to his propensity for forethought or reminiscent of a small furry prey animal, does not move for a good five seconds. Then he drops Ainsel’s shoulder and stands abruptly, marching six paces away and staring at the dirt. Ainsel watches in silence as Will chews the inside of his cheek intently. They can’t think what to say that might help: he seems nice is true, but seems is a big word that hides a multitude of sins; he said you were his cousin doesn’t quite accurately convey, the way Ainsel wants it to, that Thomas Williams doesn’t seem to know who he’s looking for at all (sister, brother, neither, both) but is keen to find that person nevertheless; I’m a little concerned that if we leave them alone too long, Noel will have married him for your inheritance by the time we get back doesn’t seem remotely useful, for all that it is honest.

“Did he say why?” Will says eventually, after a good minute of silence in which Ainsel regains their breath and manages to sit up properly and look around Will’s little camp. He usually comes back to town overnight, unless he’s seeking something nocturnal, but he always takes a bedroll and cookpot just in case he gets distracted and forgets to come home; he’s got it all, still packed, in a pile near his horse, and has only brought out a leather-bound notebook, a pencil and some charcoals which he has left on a flat rock pointing southwest where some animals, presumably, are being interesting. In rampant defiance of the gun safety and maintenance talks Finn has repeatedly given him, Will has left his rifle broken over a rock far out of reach with cartridges spilling out over the floor, where any young man with spurs on or sturdy horse in iron shoes might step on or near them and give everyone a terrible shock. Will can be so childlike about animals, sometimes - so focussed upon them and nothing else - that Ainsel reckons he needs protecting. So he shuffles over and puts the cartridges in a box, and carefully mulls over how to answer the question.

“He did,” Ainsel says eventually, voice taut and unwilling. Will sniffs, face twitching with it, but says nothing and doesn’t look his way. They sigh, and turn the box awkwardly between their fingers. “It’s your ma,” they settle on. “I’m afraid she’s, uh, passed. Recently.”

Will doesn’t move an inch. He tells them, sometimes, when he’s drunk on two whiskeys and tired of Danser Town’s shit, about his home country in the northeast; the great lakes in their vast and cosmic stillness, the endless plains of undisturbed snow, the deep dark woods of solemn, unmoving pines stretching out past the point of vanishing. He used to sit out for hours in the summer watching herons stand proudly on the banks of the lakes, being plagued by mosquitos but never minding it, for if he waited long enough a herd of deer might drink by his side, or a great, ageless moose, or perhaps even a bear seeking fish before his winter sleep. Will would sit, ever so still, and wait for the world to unfurl its shy beauty before him like a gift. Ainsel wonders if it’s something they all know to do in the north: if the mountains and lakes and forests impose a certain quiet stillness upon all its inhabitants like austere, frowning schoolmarms, or if this is something Will learned on his own on those occasions he could escape the family home in town.

In the winter, Will says, the trees shiver and pop. Water gets in them, see, and then it freezes, and the sap too; when it expands, it breaks down the pines’ firm, fibrous defenses and the trees start to explode.

“I’m sorry,” Ainsel offers.

Will nods, short and sharp, like he’s decided something. And then, without looking at Ainsel at all, he goes back to his notebook and squints at the horizon.

“...you ain’t gonna come back an’ see him?” Ainsel says cautiously.

“Thank you for telling me,” Will says, sounding more cool and moneyed than he ever has - the difference takes Ainsel aback a moment, for all that it is rather familiar. Will had sounded like that fresh off the train into town, and it hadn’t really occurred to them before how much his accent had mellowed into something more gentle, casual, and local to Danser. The switch back is a little like being struck. “You may go, now.”

Ainsel is not quick to anger. They have long accepted the vagaries of the universe, and others within it; their follies and irritations are something to which Ainsel is quite resigned. A thing has to be pretty damn offensive to rile them into anger.

So there is no small amount of alarm on Will’s face when Ainsel hauls themself off the floor, marches across the small clearing between the great desert rocks, fists their hand in Will’s shirtfront and presses him against the rock with a snarl. “Listen here, you sonuvabitch,” Ainsel says sternly, “I rode across the desert so fast all my damn bones are broke so’s you could know your brother was here on your own terms, and not ‘cause some helpful bastard in town’s brought him straight to ya. I ain’t askin’ for nothing from you, Will Williams, but I reckon I deserve some of your goddamn respect.” Will looks rather contrite. Ainsel thinks of the card vision, and the gentle man within who so cared for the child, and how eager Thomas Williams had been at the hotel to find someone who looked like him, and presses their advantage. “What’s more, I reckon you oughtta come speak to your brother, who’s grievin’ and who came out all this way lookin’ for you-”

Will’s dark eyes flash abruptly flinty, and Ainsel knows that they have misstepped. It’s still not enough warning: Will makes a fist and punches the soft inside of Ainsel’s elbow with his sharp knuckles, breaking the hold Ainsel has on his shirt, and while Ainsel is gasping with the shock of it he plants his hands flat on Ainsel’s chest and shoves hard enough to move them a good few paces. “You have no idea who he came out looking for,” Will hisses, pointing accusingly and stalking forward into Ainsel’s space, “but it sure as hell wasn’t me. He may be my brother, but I’m not his.”

“I reckon you are!” Ainsel blurts out, too busy thinking about how Thomas Williams had leaned forward on his toes to get nearer those people that might know Will to mind themself.

“The devil do you know about it all?” Will cries, throwing his hands in the air, and Ainsel recoils, wounded. “I don’t see how you can tell me what to do, as though you’ve no secrets you don’t want to address. You don’t - you don’t know me. None of you do. You-” this with a look of disdainful, injured pride and a dismissive gesture in their direction “-don’t even know yourself. So get out.”

Ainsel, for a moment, cannot breathe for the terrible hurt of it all. They have to shift one foot behind them a little to avoid stumbling backwards and folding like a broken chair to the floor. Will turns away to fuss with his drawing materials, and Ainsel works their jaw until sound comes out. “So that’s it, huh. You’re skipping town because you’re too fuckin’ yellow to see your own brother.”

Will shakes his head without turning around. “No,” he says, cool and measured, “I am going to stay here until he leaves and then return once he’s moved on, because he won’t search Danser twice and because I am-” he tilts his head thoughtfully, like a mockingbird “-too fucking yellow to see my own brother.”

“Yeah,” Ainsel mutters, turning back to Edelweiss and hauling their battered frame back into the saddle. “I can see how hiding behind a rock is a much better strategy.”

Will turns, glare spitting with fury, but Ainsel is already pulling Edelweiss around and nudging her into a steady trot back towards Danser. Edelweiss, having enjoyed her taste of speed and freedom, wants to run wild and joyous across the desert dust, to loop around the town into the prairie where the ranches are and cascade over the hill past the fenced-in stock animals and whinny her mocking laugh at them all, for she is free, free, wild and free - but Ainsel does not. They keep her reined tight until she snorts and huffs and tosses her great head and shows her tombstone teeth, but they allow her nothing. Ainsel is tired of runners, anyway.

#[touches ground] hmm. lore.#sorry ainsel that will was a bitch to you. in his defence he is freaking the fuck out #could this be...the first of a two parter??? who's to say #this is your captain speaking #a town called danser

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jae-daddy · 4 years

Text

Red Rose (2)

Jaebum mafia au

one / three / four

pairing: Jaebum x Reader genre: mafia!au, romance, drama, angst, mature plot: your high school sweetheart, Im Jaebum, is the most feared criminal and you’re his one true love a/n: at this point, this is basically mafia crack - i’ll write another one that is all dangerous this one is wack right now lmao. Also in my opinion guns should never ever be used. i know this treats gun use lightly but it does not show my opinion or my views - gun use should be banned everywhere. i can go on a whole rant but i wont unless y’all want to hear it <3 but i hope y’all will enjoy this not edit

Your palm pressed against his, as you lay your head on his shoulder. His hand wrapped around yours, the other held on your waist, as his cheek fell on your head. You softly swayed with the music playing from the boombox settled on his desk at the corner of his room.

“You look beautiful tonight,” Jaebum moved back, looking into your eyes. You let out a quiet snort at him for being so adorable.

“Sure, I do, Jaebum,” you rolled your eyes.

You had missed your ball in highschool, so here was your boyfriend making up for it in his room. You were in your yellow duck pjs, and Jaebum in a sweatshirt and pjs pants covered with Bart Simpson’s face.

“I mean it,” he kissed your forehead, and as you stared into his eyes you believed him.

Everything was magicial and beautiful. Nothing could compare to this, especially not a high school ball.

“Table number 5,” Randy woke you up from the memory you had lost yourself in.

You instantly moved walking towards the table as you pulled out your notebook and pen from your apron. You froze when you saw the group infront of you, but you pretended to keep your cool.

Jaebum wasn’t here with them, but it was the rest of the boys. They had been coming here a lot after that night.

You don’t think Jaebum had recognised you, he ate the food, left a generous tip and walked out. He didn’t come to the diner again, but the others did.

And they came very often. Atleast, once every two days.

“Hey, welcome back,” you cringed, but ignored it as you carried on. “What can I get y’all today?”

“Oh, howdy partner,” the pretty boy with the juicy lips said, as the others groaned in displeasure. He chuckled happily at the reaction before continuing, “I’ll have the waffles again, with two scoops of icecream and extra sauce.”

“No problem,” you smiled, and took the orders for the rest of the group.

Your heart settled slightly as you placed their food in front of them. Jaebum was not coming again today. That made you feel relieved, but made your gut twist and heart sink all at once.

Even though he didn’t recognise you, it was nice seeing him again. It felt nice to be in his presence once again, even though things were not as they used to be.

Something about Jaebum had dulled down. Something heavy walked with him, step after step, it weighed him down. It darkened the world around him.

Even his group of friends lessened their horsing around when he sat with them.

Something about him had changed and it broke your heart seeing him like that.

In the hour that he was here at the diner a week ago, he hadn’t laughed once. Even when his whole group was laughing and joking, he didn’t participate. Only commenting once or twice. and one rare smile that didn’t shine as bright as before. He wasn’t the Jaebum who held you in his private ball, and danced to old love songs with you.

He was someone else.

But it didn’t matter. You wanted to see him again, be around him once again. Just be in the same room, and breathe the same air as him. You missed him, and even this Jaebum was enough to warm your heart for the smallest moment.

The sky had gotten darker over your shift today. You looked at the old watch on your wrist and saw it was nearly midnight. You walked to the back, and told Randy you’ll finish after checking out table 5.

“Yeah alright, just bring the dishes in too,” he said, lost in the game of numbers as he started at his accounts book.

You nodded, even though he wouldn’t see it, and walked off. You waited twenty minutes, before the group finished.

“Was the food okay?” You asked, as you placed the check on the table.

“It was great,” one of them said pulling out his card.

“My shake wasn’t sweet enough,” the tall one, Yugyeom, said smiling sweetly.

“Yugyeom!” The one holding the card growled at him. And that’s how you knew his name. Every night Yugyeom would say something, and every night the card bearer would scrowl at him.

“You should try the double chocolate next time.” You smiled, as you took the card to the cashier.

The boys left within ten minutes, and twenty minutes later you finally left work.

Your sigh left you as a puff of white smoke, as you put on your gloves and exited from the back door into the alleyway.

Jaebum hadn’t come today, again. You felt your heart sink, but you brushed it off.

There was no point dwelling on something that out of your control. All it did was give you sleepless nights filled with worry and a thousand scenarios of reunion of how you and Jaebum will get back together.

You shook your head, as another image of Jaebum walking into the diner missing you by a second entered your mind. He walks over to the counter, looking down at a shocked Randy.

“Where is she? Where is y/n?” Jaebum askes with agony and hope heavy in his voice. His eyes look around the diner with desperation, then back at Randy.

Randy is taken aback by the tears shining in Jaebum’s eyes, as he tells him; “she just left.”

Jaebum curses under his breath as he rushes out the door, and runs to find you. He sees your shadow further down the road, at the crossing. The lights for the crossing turns green and you start walking.

“Y/n!” Jaebum yells. You turn around, and you freeze. Jaebum remains in his place and the traffic moves around us. His breath racing as he looks at you unable to look away. Finally, he had found you.

You’re standing there shocked; your chest heaving and your cheeks and nose painted rosy.

OMG

And its snowing!

Omg brilliant.

And then a truck comes your way-

“Okay, stop.” You told yourself, sternly. You closed your eyes embarrased by yourself. “What the fuck are you thinking?” “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU THINKING FUCKER?” Your eyes widened as you jumped in your place.

“What-” you whispered, holding your hands at your heart. You removed your beanie from over your ear, and stuck your head out to the left to hear better.

“You really think Marco will let you fuckers live after what you did?” You gasped as you couldn’t believe your ears.

“Omg, real gangsters.” You murmured suprised. You had never seen one, only in movies and tv shows. But they still sounded scary as they you thought they would.

Some guys laughed at that comment, and it was silent for a moment.

You wanted to take a peak around the corner and see what was going on, but you knew better.

“I do know better, right?” You bit your lip tempted. You wanted to look, just a small peak. They wouldn’t even notice you were there. You could get real close to the wall and crouch on the floor so- “No, I know better.”

You shook your head and started walking before you did something stupid.

“Yeah?” Someone chuckled making you freeze, you knew that voice. “Well, goodluck telling Marco what happened here today, fucker.”

It was Yugyeom.

You turned on your heels, walking close to the wall. You took a deep breath, and looked over the corner, and your jaw dropped.

There were about five guys on charging towards Yugyeom.

Yugyeom pulls out a gun, shoots two in their legs and is about to shoot another when gun is wacked from his hands as a punch lands on his stomach. The gun lands a few feet away from you.

You cover your mouth to hold in the terrified gasp that was left you. The scene was straight from a movie.

Yugeyom smashed his head into the guy who had punched his stomach making him stumble back. He grabbed another one by their neck, kicking another in his balls and then knocking him out with a kick once he fell on his knees.

He twisted his arm loosening his grip, making the guy with the neck grip turn around. He pulls his back towards him, and wraps his arms around his throat. Yugyeom chokes the guy as he struggles for air, soon sliding down and Yugyeom lets him go.

The guy with the broken nose charges again, but Yugyeom right hooks before jumping and karate kicking his face. He falls to the ground, and in a matter of seconds Yugyeom has defeated five guys who were bigger than him.

You were impressed and terrified all at once. Your whole body was shaking with adrenaline as you took the scene in front of you.

This was the guy who wanted sweeter milkshake, and would laugh and smile so innocently. But this was also the guy, wiping the blood from the corner of his lips, his black shirt tore open from missing buttons revealing his chest.

Yugyeom chuckled cockily turning towards the guy who you thought was the boss because thats it goes. The minions fight and the boss sits back and watches, and then he steps in.

Before Yugyeom could turn to face him; the boss had jumped from the car infront of Yugyeom. He elbowed Yugyeom making him fall to the ground. He pulled out his gun and pointed it at Yugyeom’s head.

Yugyeom chuckled, still being a cocky little shit.

The boss slammed the gun onto Yugyeom’s face making you wince as a cut formed on his forehead.

You couldn’t think properly. Yugyeom’s arms fell weakly by his side, as he looked up and closed his eyes. He opened them slowly staring down the barrel of the gun.

Had he given up?

The boss smirked down at Yugyeom.

“Sad that you can’t give this message to your boss yourself,” he sneered at Yugyeom, leaning in closer before standing tall over him. You started moving, your body having no control of your movements.

“But your dead body would do the trick.”

He unlocked the gun, and in a second, you picked up Yugyeom’s gun, unlocked it and shot it in their direction.

The silencer must have come off, because a loud bang made your ears ring. You dropped the gun, covering your ears.

You managed to regain some of your senses and looked towards Yugyeom.

His eyes closed tightly, and he didn’t move. You heart shrivelled in your chest as your blood ran cold.

Your ears rang loudly, as you fell to the floor. You gasped for air but nothing came into your lung.

You stared at Yugyeom, as he remained still; not moving.

You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t save him.

And then red fell on his face; little splatters and then bigger blobs.

Yugyeom opened one eye, peaking at the sight in front of him.

Both of your eyes widened as your jaws fell wide open. The boss in his black coat fell to the cold damp ground as red seeped out from him.

Yugyeom’s eyes met yours, and they widened even further.

You took in a deep breath, gasping once more. This time the frosty air filled your lungs. It burned your dry throat, and cooled your lungs as you collapsed on to the palms on your hand. Your knees bent, the grainy street digging into your leggings as you closed your eyes.

“Are you okay?” You called out, gulping.

Yugyeom didn’t answer. He stared at you for a moment before opening his mouth. But he couldn’t say anything, before he could another voice boomed from behind you.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?”

You turned around only to be blinded by the bright light. You covered your eyes as your eyes adjusted to the light. You could make out four figures against the harsh lights.

“Where is your silencer, Yugyeom? Get up the cops will be here soon.” The same voice said, and this time you could tell who it was.

“We have a bigger problem,” Yugyeom got up and began walking towards you. “It wasn’t me.”

“Really? Who was it then?” The guy who always snapped at Yugyeom snapped once again.

“it was her,” Yugyeom pointed at you, as he stood a few inches away from you.

“The waitress?!” Someone gasped. “The hell?”

You looked up at the boys who surrounded you, and then at the body laying unmoving and blood spilling out from him. You left bile come up, as you turned to the side and vomitted.

You looked up one last time to see Jaebum stare at you in shock, and then darkness fell over you.

#jaebum #mafia #got7 mafia #angst #funny #fluff #mafia au #kpop #fanfic #cute #romance #mature #drama #hope y'all like it #this is like mafia crack lmao #redrose #red rose #jaedaddy

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henry-cavill-baby · 4 years

Text

To Study (Insects) │ 1

Pairing: Clark Kent (MoS) x Original Female Character

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3k~

Summary: Connie and Clark, two peas in a pod. She didn’t know if it was his soft blue eyes or his Mother’s sweet blueberry pie that had caught her eye, but boy howdy, was she caught.

A/N: Nothing! Enjoy!

The best thing about living in Kansas was that nothing ever happened.

There was a mile wide sprawl of corn that was breathtaking to few; it had started out as nothing much but rows upon rows of dirt that now bore sprawls of golden richness that could truly blind any tourist with its beauty. Most of it was picked and sold—Kansas was full of rural farmers and farmers markets, but some just stayed for show.

And the Farmers Market typically consisted of stay-at-home mothers trying to sell their overpriced sugary sweet lemon bars to any sucker who would pay seven dollars for four measly pieces.

Most of the teens at the local high school got rides home from their parents, but Connie Mayfield knew that you couldn’t pay her Father, Walter, to pick his daughter up from school. If he did, then he’d no doubt miss a rerun of Baywatch, and that simply couldn’t happen.

A tune that rivaled the airiness of a flute flew from the 14 year olds mouth on her long walk home. Connie Mayfield whistled a nonchalant melody as her uneven pace took her closer to home.

The young girl had a lot on her mind; there was a test on Friday that was covering another form of division that looked to confusing to follow, and Alice’s birthday party was on Saturday and getting a gift for the little girl who had everything was harder than it seemed. The years of gifts consisting of dolls and bright hairbrushes were long over. Maybe she’d like a new bracelet or a set of earrings.

An irregular rock bumped against the tip of her shoe and she grinned, lobbing it off into the cornfield, a little thud echoing through the golden maze.

It was tempting—the idea of taking the not so short shortcut through the tall stalks, if just to feel a little more free for just a moment, but the sounds of distress just up ahead had her little sneakers speeding up. She turned to the bend and grew furious at the sight of three boys throwing around her friend.

“Hey!” she bellowed, running closer before screeching to a halt in front of the teen holding up her friend by the lip of his shirt, “Leave him alone!”

Isaiah Matthews grinned with his fist still clutching the younger boy's shirt, “Oooo, is this your girlfriend, Kent?”

Clark Kent sneered up at the taller boy, fists clenching in rage.

“Leave her alone,” he grit out, watching Isaiah sneer with confidence.

“I didn’t take you for a pussy, Kent, but I guess I was wrong.” He dropped Clark with a grin and sauntered to the near growling girl.

“Connie, right? My dad says you Mayfield’s are trailer trash, and I can see where he gets that from.”

His eyes gave her a visible up-and-down, “No wonder only a freak would like you.”

The words had barely left his mouth before Clark launched himself onto the back of the bully, pummeling him to the ground with hateful eyes. The two other lackeys ran, but Connie went and pulled Clark back before he did something he’d regret. The two of them fell away from the older boy, watching him with guarded eyes.

Isaiah spat at ground near their feet, “Fucking freaks.”

Connie waited until he was out of sight, turning to Clark and frowning at his disheveled appearance. “You know, I’m not always gonna be here to save you, Clark.”

He wiped away the sheen of dirt and sweat covering his upper lip, refusing to meet her eyes. “I didn’t need your help. I could’ve handled it.”

“Oh yeah, you totally had it under control,” she mocked with pursed lips.

He frowned at her sarcasm and picked up his dirtied school bag, looking down the path home. It was a quick walk to the farm, and mom had probably already started dinner, which is why it made no sense when he turned and muttered, “Can I walk you home?”

Her eyes went wide at his question, upper teeth nibbling on her pink lip, shrugging, “Sure, if you want.”

They both nodded and started a slow walk to the Mayfield’s. Connie’s fingers twitched at her side while different conversation starters nearly passed through her lips every few seconds. The urge to ask why he never fought back, why he let people call him a freak raced through her mind, but only silence hung between them. It was almost annoying that he never stood up for himself.

There was something mysterious about Clark that intrigued her 14-year-old brain; no one had ever let him live down that time he’d locked himself in a closet (and torched the doorknob till it was bright red).

He was just the guy who kept to himself most of the time.

And still she kept on eye on him the entire time, watching his own twitching fingers pick at the loose lining of his jeans, lip biting in a matter similar to her own, brows furrowing in thought, though they always did that. He looked cute when he was deep in thought.

Cute? I think Clark is… cute?

A deep redness flooded her cheeks and her lips pursed into a thin line, trying not to visibly speed away from the other boy, but Clark noticed everything. There was something keen about the way his mind worked; almost predatorial.

“Are you okay?” he asked, the cute furrow in his brow deep as she faced him while willing away the redness of her juvenile cheeks.

She nodded but didn’t meet his blue eyes. They were like oceans—I’d swim in Clark’s eyes if he’d ask—and her stomach always fluttered when he looked at her.

She expected them to fall back into silence, now halfway to the Mayfield farm, but Clark piped up, “Are you excited for the field trip tomorrow?”

A flutter of excitement rang through her veins, but she held back and simply nodded. “It’ll be a nice change from sitting inside all day.” Clark nodded along with her running words, “I heard the museum has a section on insects and their habitats, and I hope they have a butterfly display. Or—or maybe a real entomologist will be there.”

Now bugs- those were cool. Anything from crickets to butterflies to beetles, each one more interesting than the last…except arachnids. You could keep those eight-legged freaks as far away as humanly possibly.

Clark slowed their pace but kept his distance, “Is that what you wanna be when you grow up?”

She grinned and tried to slow the internal monologue of bug talk.

“I think when I grow up, I’ll leave this place behind and follow my dreams.” She said.

“And I guess those dreams do include insects of all types. They really do get a bad reputation sometimes. I think they’re just as delicate and interesting as humans.”

“Really?” Clark wrinkled in his nose, “My dad sprays the fields for bugs in the summer.” She hit his shoulder as he let out a snort, “I think I’ve squashed a few flies for mom too.”

She shook her head and couldn’t see Clark staring at her golden locks as they shined in the sun. “You’re the worst, Kent.”

The both chuckled and came to a halt in front of the Mayfield farm. It was more run down than the other houses in the area and the roof could’ve been mistaken for caving in, and she knew it looked worse on the inside. The moldy green color of the roof had seen better days, and the porch could barely hold the old rocking chair that her dad liked to sit on in the mornings. Clark would never know how the inside looked even worse.

“Do you know what you wanna be when you grow up?” She asked with a soft smile, taking no offense as Clark tried, once again, not to meet her eyes. The swoop of his brown hair was nearing the tops of his eyes, but she knew he wasn’t inclined to cut it. He didn’t buzz his hair like the other boys.

“I…” He paused, foot kicking the uneven dirt under his shoes. He bit his lip lower lip and finally, after what seemed like an eternity, met her honey eyes.

“Yes?”

He took a deep breath and lightly shrugged, “Sometimes, I feel like I don’t know who I am. I think I wanna figure that out first, ya know?”

No, she didn’t know but asking Clark to explain how he felt could feel like pulling teeth. Golden honey stared into the aquamarine sea, two sets of young lips wet and wanting, and Connie picked at her pants, nails bending with surprising force.

The door to the Mayfield hold slammed with a grotesque force, and the two teens jumped away from one another as Walter Mayfield grunted his way to them, to Clark.

“’Thought I told you to stay away from my daughter, Kent!” Walter bellowed, nearing the fourteen-year-old clear-eyed boy who showed no sign of backing down with his head held high and chest jutted out.

“I don’t want you lookin’ at her, touchin’ her—“

Connie finally yelled, “Dad!” and stood between him and Clark, protecting her friend from the unjustified anger of her dad. She felt Clark’s fingers grip the back of her shirt and tug her closer, just as Walter stood over them with beady eyes and steam shooting from his ears.

“Get in the house, Connie.” Her dad growled, never looking away from Clark.

But she shook her head and pushed against her dad’s chest, ignoring Clark’s fingers still gripping the back of her shirt. “We weren’t doing anything, go back inside, please.”

A startled yelp left her throat as her dad’s strong fist lurched her forward by the front of her shirt, throwing her to the ground and out of Clark’s grip. The air left her lungs and the dirt felt dry under her fingertips, watching as Clark seemed to vibrate in place, glaring deadly at Walter.

“If I ever see you ‘round here again, Kent.” He spat, “I’ll make you wish you were never born. Are we clear?”

The threat hung between the adult and young teen, and Clark tightly nodded and stalked off down the dirt path, not once looking back at Connie, never seeing the tears in her eyes.

Walter stared down at his daughter with a sneer, “Get inside. I won’t say it again.”

The dried dirt caked under her nails as she scrambled to stand and bolt inside, not taking note of the woman asleep on the couch that she’d never seen before, or the beer bottles covering the kitchen counters. The stairs creaked as she fled upstairs and shut her bedroom door, clicking the latch in place. A heaviness sat in her chest as her backpack thumped to the floor.

Beaded tears fell down her thick cheeks and light cries sounded through the room.

“—I want that boy away from my son!” the mother of Peter Ross screeched from the Principal's office. “Am I the only one who understands the situation? That boy lifted a bus from a lake. A bus! What kind of monster are we allowing to walk with our children?”

The meek father of Alice pepped up, “But—But he did save them, right?”

“It doesn’t matter, Martin. I don’t feel safe with him here, and neither should any of you.”

Martha Kent hung her head and left the Principal's office, ignoring the calls from the desperate parents. There was nothing else she needed to hear from them, especially insults about her son. The door shut with a click, and her heels clipped the floor with each step.

She did her best to smile at Clark, but he’d always seen right through that. He sat up straight and looked her in the eyes, his soft voice rivaling his posture, “How did it go?”

She knew Clark had heard every word already and that lying would only make him defensive. “About as well as you’d expect, honey.” She patted his shoulder and ushered him to stand, “C’mon, let’s go home.”

The car ride was silent aside from the tapping of Clark’s blunt nails on the fabric of his jeans, and the shaking of his leg. He was such a nervous boy—her Clark—and it pained her heart to see him to try to hide how this whole thing was tearing him up inside. They normally played the radio, Clark usually flipped stations and rarely settled on just one, but silence was all they heard.

Jonathon Kent watched his wife pull up, and frowned as Clark bolted from the passenger seat and fled into the backyard. He stepped outside just as Martha shut off the car and gingerly stepped out, walking into her husband’s arms with a deep sigh. Exhaustion ran deep in her veins, and Jonathon wished he could take it away.

“That bad, huh?” He muttered into her brown locks, feeling her nod into his chest.

“Talk to him.” She begged, trying to keep the tears at bay, “I think…I think it’s time he…” They both turned to face the barn with heavy hearts, knowing this would be for the best.

Jonathon nodded and released Martha, shooting a thin-lipped smile her way as he made his way to the backyard. His heart thumped as he eyed his son, whose legs were hanging off the back of his pickup, shoulders hunched in his blue hoodie. As he got closer, he could hear the sniffles from his son.

“Clark.” His son turned and wiped away the wetness on his cheeks. “I just want to know what happened. I’m not mad, I promise.”

Jonathon sat next to his son and watched his boys lip quiver. His words came out with a thin veil of pain, “I wasn’t thinking, Dad.” A hiccup escaped his throat. “She was so scared… I just couldn’t let her die."

The water was rising too fast—it was cold and soaked the kids instantly— and Clark watched as Connie grew frantic in her efforts to open the window enough to crawl out, or maybe she was trying her best to keep the water from flooding the already half submerged bus. Cries and screams rang through the drowning bus, and Clark swam, trying his best to make it to Connie

“Connie!” He yelled, reaching forward to snag her shirt and pull her away from the stream of flowing water.

“Oh god, Clark! We’re gonna die!” Her screams were shrill and almost hurt his ears, but the smell of her fear mixed with the smell of tears and piss coming off the other students had him looking for a way out.

But the water was nearing the top of the bus, and all he could hear was her cries.

“Son, I thought we talked about this.” He started, patting his own thigh, “We have to keep what you can do a secret.”

“They were all going to drown, how could I have done nothing? They didn’t deserve to die.”

“Clark, I just—“ Jonathon paused, watching the sunshine across the cornfield that spanned miles upon miles. It was an array of reds that shined upon the old graying barn.

“I just want to protect you, son. And sometimes, when people see something they don’t understand, they get scared and lash out. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to you.”

And finally, Clark asked the question that Jonathon had known would always come.

“Why am I like this, dad? Why am I so different from everyone else?”

Memories of finding their son, raising him to be the young man who sat at his side—through all the times he’d been different than the other kids, and knowing all of the hardships that were yet to come. It was almost enough to make him cry.

Almost.

Jonathon stood up from the truck and stood in front of his son, placing both hands on his small shoulders. “I’m going to show you something, son, and it may make things make a bit more sense. But no matter what—“ He pressed his palm to his sons chest and smiled,

“You are my son.”

Part 2

#man of steel #clark kent henry cavill #clark kent #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill #clark kent x oc #clark kent imagines #dc fanfic #batman v supeman: dawn of justice #zack snyder justice league #superman #superman fanfiction

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heysoup · 3 years

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Fluffy February Day 1 - Fishing

Howdy folks! I’m taking part in the Fallout Fluffy February prompt list this month, hosted by @fluffyfebruary

Every day of this month I’ll be posting my finished prompts under the community tag #fluffyfebruary and on my own blog as #fluffyfeb. I’ll also be cross posting to Ao3, which I’ll link to in each post - so feel free to follow me over there, too!

Chapter 1: A Fisher of Men

Pairing: Butch/Male Lone Wanderer

Summary: Jamie takes Butch out on the Potomac for a fishing trip in the same spot his father had taken him a year prior. What seems to be an uneventful few hours turns into anything but when they find a monster on the other end of their line. Takes place after the events of Broken Steel.

Ao3 Link

“This is fucking boring.”

Jamie shoots Butch an irritated look from where he’s sitting across from the other man in the canoe, his brows drawn together as he tries his damnedest to untangle his fishing line from the third piece of driftwood he’s ‘caught’ that day.

“No shit,” he grumbles, spitting out some mud as he tries to break the line off the wood with his teeth. He lets out a frustrated huff, gripping his rod in both hands as he raises it up and fights the urge to just chuck the whole damn thing into the Potomac. He hears Butch snicker, and he whips his head up.

“You’re like a goddamn feral,” Butch teases with a laugh, reaching over and snatching the rod from Jamie’s grip. He digs in the pocket of his jeans and pulls out his switchblade, flicking it open and carefully beginning to cut the line away from where it’s tangled in the driftwood to try and save as much of it as he can.

He kicks his boots playfully against Jamie’s sneakers, noticing how the canvas high-tops are completely soaked through from the puddle of water they’d managed to slosh into the canoe earlier as they tried ungracefully to board it from the shore. He just shakes his head, a smile on his face, knowing that if he brings up the topic of appropriate footwear to the younger man it’ll just earn him a bruised shoulder.

“This was supposed to be like… meditative or some shit,” Jamie says with a sigh. He rubs his hands over his freckled face and ruffles some of the dust out of his sun-warmed hair. Butch just gives him an incredulous look.

“Where the hell did you get that idea from?” He finishes cutting the driftwood free and tosses it behind him into their small pile of ‘catches’ – which is really just a collection of junk at this point – before reattaching the hook and bobber and handing the rod back to the other man. He leans over and grabs his own fishing pole, squinting against the reflective ripples in the water to check on his bobber. Still absolutely no bites.

Jamie shrugs, suddenly looking a little bashful. “I dunno,” he admits. He reaches back into the salvaged can of cram they were using as bait, tears a chunk out, and works on preparing his hook again. Not like it matters much, he tells himself. He can continue to go through the motions perfectly and not catch a single thing. A little bit like everything else in his life, he thinks bitterly. His fucking bad luck.

After a moment of silence, Jamie continues. “Apparently my family came from a long line of fishermen on my dad’s side. He passed down some stories about it. Told me they were tradition or something.” Jamie shrugs. “Anyway, he taught me that you were s’posed to reflect on yourself out here. Get some peace and quiet.” Jamie finally says. He sucks the excess cram off his fingers, his tongue burning at the sudden saltiness, and casts his line out again, his bobber floating a few feet from Butch’s. Butch looks up at him, snapped out of his own thoughts.

“Huh… like, Wasteland fisherman?” Butch asks, deliberately choosing not to tell him how he thinks the whole ‘peace and quiet’ schtick is a load of brahmin shit and instead focusing on the first part of what he said. He’s always intrigued whenever Jamie tells him about his family, at least after they’d learned that he wasn’t born in the vault. The idea of generations of Arroyo’s managing to survive out here long enough to pop out the rascally kid he sits across from kind of amazes him. He sets his fishing pole back down against the side of the canoe, sure that it would be fine – he hasn’t gotten a single nibble in the past three hours.

“Nah. I’m sure some of them might’ve been, but we don’t really know much about closer generations of my family. We only really knew about some of my prewar family – something about some records my dad’s dad had kept on his terminals after searching our surname through databases in some place that used to process immigrations, or some shit. The occupation listed there was fisherman, apparently.” Jamie finishes and Butch hums thoughtfully, trying to imagine what Jamie’s granddad might have looked like.

Jamie winces when he thinks of his dad and has to shake the thoughts from his head. As if his face reflecting back at him from the clear surface of the clean water isn’t enough of a reminder of what he’s lost of his family and himself to of Project Purity – he looks like his own father’s ghost and even carries his name.

Butch’s fishing pole snapping against the side of the boat brings him back out of his thoughts, and he flinches back away from the canoe’s edge, the quick motion causing him to almost tumble out the other side as the boat sways dangerously.

“I got one!” Butch practically shouts and lunges for the pole, straddling the seat of the canoe and bracing his legs against the floor as he begins an awkward tug-of-war match with whatever is on the other end of his line. Jamie perks up with a huge grin on his face, all thoughts of his troubles momentarily forgotten, and hovers over Butch nervously.

“Make sure you don’t reel in when he’s pulling on the line! And try to give it some slack!” Jamie parrots what his father had taught him on their one and only fishing trip in the Wastes months back and digs around in their mess of a canoe for the rickety net they brought with them. Butch just gives an annoyed grunt, his face crinkled in concentration as he pulls on the line.

“This bastard is fuckin’ heavy!” He complains, giving the rod a yank that rocks their canoe again. Whatever they have hooked is pulling them ever so slightly to the opposite shore and splashing like crazy beneath the water.

“Scoot,” Jamie orders. He tosses the net aside – it’s obvious that whatever’s on the other side of the line won’t fit in it now - and moves on unsteady legs to sit behind Butch, reaching his arms around the other man’s waist and grabbing the fishing pole to help him pull. What the hell are they dealing with here?

By the time they begin to make some progress in reeling the fish in, they’re about halfway to the shore and completely out of breath. Butch laughs hysterically between pulls, his eyes squeezed shut in glee, and Jamie can’t help but laugh in return. His palms are sweaty, his white-knuckle grip on the fishing pole beginning to slip.

“Is it trying to pull us out of the water?!” Butch says suddenly, elbowing Jamie to look at the swiftly approaching shore. They’re hauling ass at this point, almost as if… whatever they hooked had suddenly caught some footing in the shallower water. Jamie’s eyes widen and he immediately lets go of the pole to root around in their bags. As he does, Butch careens forward from the sudden lack of support and just barely catches himself with his elbows against the edge of the canoe. He curses, “CHRIST, Nosebleed! Some warning next time!”

Jamie has only just gotten his hands on Butch’s shotgun when they finally catch a glimpse of their ‘fish’ as it breaks the surface of the water. At this point, they’ve reeled it in pretty close and the wake left behind the huge creature emerging from the stagnant part of the river capsizes their canoe just as they crash into the sandy shore.

With a chorus of yells both men topple over into the shallows. Jamie squeezes his eyes shut and lands on his back with a thud, his arms stretched up over his head holding the shotgun out of the river. The water feels like a cold slap to his face, and he comes back up gasping for air. He looks over to where Butch has landed hard on his ass, noting that the fishing pole is being tugged out of his hands and quickly away from him. He looks and sees the fruits of their labor – an albino Mirelurk with the fishing line wrapped around one claw.

“MIRELURK!” Butch yells, scrambling to his feet and running over to Jamie. He pulls the other man up and grabs the shotgun from him just as the Mirelurk turns toward them and begins clambering over the old canoe that groans and splinters beneath its weight.

“Shoot it! Shoot it!” Jamie practically shrieks and pushes against Butch’s arm, urging him to hurry when the Mirelurk picks up speed and barrels toward them. Butch nods and fights the urge to run, taking a breath and bracing for the recoil as he lines up his shot. Jamie flinches when he hears the crack! of the rounds exploding from the gun and shattering the vulnerable part of the Mirelurk’s fragile front shell. His ears ring from the close proximity of the shot and he grimaces, about to cover them until he realizes the monster is still running full speed toward them. Shit!

He grabs Butch and tackles him to the ground, shoving them out of the way as the huge, mutated crab stumbles past them at an alarming speed and crashes hard into the shore. It lies there face-first in a mound in the sand and they watch it with wild eyes from their position on the ground, ready to book it at any hint of movement, but it’s motionless and quiet – dead.

Jamie rolls off of Butch and flops down next to him, both of them looking up at the endless expanse of bright blue sky as they struggle to catch their breaths.

“Still think fishing is boring?” Jamie snaps and Butch begins to laugh again, the sound starting as a snort and bubbling slowly from his chest before he’s full-on wheezing with laughter. Jamie sits up and looks down at him like he’s insane.

“What about this was funny?!” He asks, shaking Butch’s shoulder. He can’t help but return the grin, though. Seeing Butch happy always manages to make him smile. Butch wipes his hand down his face as he sits up, slinging the shotgun over his shoulder and hopping to his feet. He reaches down to pull Jamie up with him, a huge shit-eating grin on his face.

Jamie’s ears suddenly feel hot as he watches Butch, noticing the endearing gap between his two front teeth and the splash of sun freckles over his now sand-dusted face. He swallows, his heart racing. “What?” He repeats again, his throat dry.

“I caught a motherfucking fish.” Butch beams even more and looks incredibly proud of himself as they turn and walk over to his ‘catch.’ He kicks it with the toe of his boot a few times just to ease his own worries of it springing back to life.

“It’s not a fish! It’s a crab, they’re different.” Jamie argues and crouches down, grabbing the edge of the Mirelurk’s shell with Butch as they flip it over with a heave. Jamie doesn’t mention that technically he did catch it with a fishing pole, and that technically they are going to have it for dinner. He doesn’t want to give Butch the satisfaction, especially considering the only thing he got out of this trip is his collection of stones and driftwood that was currently crushed under their broken canoe.

“It counts.” Butch says, the grin still plastered on his face. He pulls a combat knife out of a holster on his belt and settles down on his knees in the sand, tapping the sharp edge of it against the shell. “Look at this bad boy. You ever see a white one before?”

“It’s an albino, I guess.” Jamie says, leaning close to inspect it. He lifts the claw that’s tangled in their fishing line. “What a mess, we aren’t salvaging this.” He drops it back into the sand with a thud.

“The fuck’s an albino?” Butch asks as he cuts into their prize, grimacing and holding back a gag as he begins to butcher it. Mirelurk is good meat, but it reeks when it’s fresh.

“You know, like that one story Brotch made us read in like 8th grade, Moby Dick? It was about that sea captain and the giant albino whale.” Jamie snickers and walks the few paces back to their canoe. He flips it right-side-up with some effort and drags their valuables out of the muddy water, clicking his tongue in disappointment when he notices their bags are completely soaked through. “You’re lucky he didn’t eat your leg.” He teases.

Butch looks back at him and pouts, blowing a messy curl of his hair out of his eyes. “Yeah, I never read anything ol’ Brotch assigned. Waste of time. Like it would’ve taught me anything useful out here.” He grumbles.

Jamie laughs and drops their stuff next to a rock outcropping near their canoe. It looks like it would provide some decent shelter against the wind and by the looks of their soaking clothes and supplies, they’ll have to stay the night unless they want to catch hypothermia. “Maybe it could’ve taught ya how to catch a real fish.”

“It still counts as a catch!” Butch whines.

“It’s not a fish.” Jamie shoots back in a sing-song voice, biting his tongue to hold back the huge grin that threatens to break through. Butch jumps up from what he’s doing and turns to him, his face red, but mirroring the same smile that Jamie is trying so hard to hold back.

“It. Counts.” Butch grits between clenched teeth puts his combat knife away, buttoning the sheathe into place against his hip. They stare at each other for a moment, their eyes locked in a staring match. Jamie’s grin finally breaks free.

“Does no-“he cuts himself off with a yelp as Butch lunges for him playfully. He laughs so hard he thinks his chest might burst as he takes off in a run down the beach, Butch hot on his heels as he begins to chase him.

He knows Butch’s legs are much longer than his, but he can hold his own – at least for a little while. And even though the inevitable ending is Butch catching him in a tackle, he can’t say he doesn’t enjoy it. It’s something they’ve done since they were boys stumbling around in the grey fluorescence of the vault, constantly finding their way back to each other like it was fate, and it feels like home.

#fluffyfebruary #fallout #fallout 3 #butch deloria #butch/m!lw #fanfiction #jay writes #fluffyfeb

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gemma-lemma · 3 years

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Cloudy Days - JJ Maybank x Male OC

Chapter 1.1 – Pilot

They were the Pogues, and their mission this summer was to have a good time, all the time, John B decided. He was currently standing on top of the roof of a building that was being renovated, balancing on one foot, holding a half-empty beer can. Taking a sip, he tore his gaze from the horizon, where the sun was just setting, and glanced down to his friends.

“That’s what, a three-story fall to the deck?” Pope asked, looking up to his friend with a frown and squinted eyes. “I give you about a one-in-three chance of survival.”

“Hm.” He made, and sticked his finger into his mouth, just to hold up in the air and feel the direction of the wind. “Should I do it?”

“Yeah, you should jump.” Pope encouraged, pointing at him with a drill. “I’ll shoot you on the way down.”

“You’ll shoot me?” John B challenged, making finger guns at his dark-skinned friend and firing.

“Yep.”

“Pow!”

JJ frowned, sitting on top of the scaffolding, chin resting on top of an iron bar. That’s when Kiara came out of the building with an irritated look.

“They’re gonna have Japanese toilets with towel warmers.” She complained.

“Of course they are, why wouldn’t they?” JJ shot back.

“This used to be a turtle habitat, but who cares about the turtles, I guess?” Turning around the corner, she looked up to where John B was balancing, and furrowed her brows.

“I can’t have cold towels.” JJ said.

“Can you please not kill yourself?” She asked John B, completely ignoring the blond boy’s comment.

“Don’t spill that beer. I’m not giving you another one.” JJ called up to him.

Just that very moment John B slipped and let the can fall. “Whoa! Oh, shit!”

“Of course you did.” JJ stated and almost rolled his eyes. “Right when I told you not to.”

“Smooth.” Commented Kiara, and Pope gave him an A+.

John B groaned, as Kiara called him a dumbass, and Pope turned around just in time to see the car of the security company guarding the house pull up in the driveway. “Hey, uh, security’s here. Let’s wrap it up.”

“Boys are early today.” John B realised, as JJ cheered: “Humpty Dumpty, let’s roll.” And rolled out of his position and down the scaffolding.

“Let’s roll.” Kiara chuckled, as JJ proceeded to greet the security man he recognised as Gary.

Laughing, they ran inside the house and down the stairs, where they ran right into the security men’s arms. One of them even got his hands on JJ, but his could tear himself loose and run in the opposite direction.

“Not much of a hugger, man!” He exclaimed, running into the garden and encouraging Pope to jump over the wooden fence, following right after.

While the security guard jumped onto the fence too and called after them, angrily, they ran towards the up-pulling VW bus. John B honked like a maniac and stated that the bus was leaving as they jumped in right beside Kiara.

“Check out Gary, gunning for a raise.” Pope chuckled when the guard ran after the bus.

“Come on, guys, you’re gonna give him a heart attack.” Kiara pleaded towards John B as JJ leaned out the open door and threw him a beer can, cheering him on and telling him that his bosses didn’t pay him enough.

“JJ, stop, stop.” Kiara said and tugged him back inside, though not even she could hide a smile.

“Oh come on, man. That sort of initiative is just begging to be punished.” He laughed, right as they drove off and left Gary behind.

The Outer Banks, Paradise on earth. It was the sort of place where you either had two jobs or two houses. Two tribes, one island.

John B and his friends were currently driving through Figure 8, the rich side of the island. Home of the Kooks. Easy to guess where they didn’t live.

Driving just a little farther, they arrived in the south side, or, as they called it, The Cut. Home of the working class who made a living busing tables, washing yachts, running charters. The natural habitat of, you guessed it – The Pogues.

That’s them. The lowest member of the food chain, with only one downside: They were ignored and neglected. But it also had one upside: They were ignored and neglected, which meant they did whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted.

And that was exactly what Parker Cloud needed, who just in that moment arrived at the Château, his Uncle Big John’s house. It was actually just an old fish shack on the marsh, but you could live in it, and that was all that mattered.

Upon finding it empty, though, Parker decided to take a break on the old green sofa on the front porch, backpack to his feet. He hadn’t seen his uncle and cousin in at least five years, having only ever visited with his mother once or twice before she died three years ago. Sighing, he tried to push the memory off his mind and thought about what he could tell Big John.

His thoughts were soon interrupted when he heard a car pull up in front of the house and recognized the laughter of several people once the engine turned off. Waiting until the people were half the way up to the porch he stood up from the couch in a swift movement and grabbed his backpack, just to sling it lazily over one shoulder as he jumped down the stairs.

Upon seeing the unexpected guest, the group faltered and stared, until they were standing opposite each other in silence. It took Parker only a few moments to identify his cousin and his friends, having already expected to meet them, but a little longer for them to recognize him.

“Howdy, cousin.” He greeted a reached his hand out for John B to fist bump it, which he did.

“Hey Parker, long time no see. What’re you doing here all of a sudden?” The Routledge boy laughed and pulled him into an embrace. Parker shrugged and scratched the back of his neck.

“Oh, you know, just looking for some change of scenery. I was thinking to stay here for a while until I’ve found my own place to stay, but I haven’t had the chance to ask Big John yet. Do you know when he will be back?”

The group suddenly became eerily quiet, and Parker looked confusedly at their heavy faces.

“My father, uhm, he’s lost at sea.” John B finally broke the silence, and Parker took a surprised step backwards. “About nine months ago. Technically uncle T is my legal guardian at the time, but he’s in Mississippi building houses.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” Parker said, looking anywhere but at his cousin’s face. Suddenly very uncomfortable with what he had said.

“Oh, don’t be. You couldn’t have. But if you need a place to stay, I’d be happy to have you.” He smiled, and Parker suddenly felt a lot lighter. He gave him a thankful smile.

“You surely remember my friends, Pope, JJ, and Kiara.” John B turned around to introduce them once again, and Parker gave the boys polite smiles, before he threw a charming one towards Kiara and made a dramatic bow.

“Of course I remember Kie, Queen of the Sea, how could I ever forget such marvellous beauty?” He stated mischeviously, and JJ groaned in annoyance.

“And here we go again. Man, keep it in your pants.” He glared, though Kiara just chuckled with her cheeks turning pink and the other two boys grinned. Parker had never ceased to compliment Kiara even when they were younger, and for some reason JJ had always been very annoyed by that. The others found it hilarious, especially since Parker started doing it on purpose.

“Oh, JJ, I didn’t see you there. How’s it going, dude? Still single?” He grinned wickedly and the blond boy just flipped him off before entering the house.

Chuckling, the others followed him inside, grabbing some things before heading off to their boat.

“How long do you plan on staying here?” John B asked Parker as they got all comfortable on the HMS Pogue, sipping beers and enjoying the warmth of the sun. Parker hadn’t even remembered how much he had missed the sun in his face and the crashing sound of the waves in the background. Jacksonville was way too cold and grey for someone to become happy in, he decided.

“I don’t know, man. Until I found my own place to stay, I guess. Or until you kick me out, whatever comes first, I’d say.” He chuckled, taking another sip and soaking in the warmth. John B wanted to ask other questions, but upon seeing his serene expression, he decided to let time give him the answers he was seeking.

“You guys wanna go to the boneyard tonight?” He asked instead, and the three Pogues nodded.

Parker quirked a brow. “The boneyard? You wanna go dig up some bodies or what?”

“No, it’s not like that.” Kiara chuckled, leaning into him and flashing him a sweet smile as he forced one eye open to look at her. Their constant flirting had always been a game they both enjoyed very much. “The boneyard’s a bit of beach where we go to throw parties.”

“Oh, I love parties. Will there be beer?”

“Beer, probably even Tourons, if we’re unlucky some Kooks.” JJ answered and threw Parker an irritated look. The Cloud boy smiled sickly sweet in return, loving the reactions he could so easily pry out of the Maybank boy.

“Sounds perfect, I’m in if you’ll have me.” He said to Kiara, who laughed and nodded in return.

“Of course we’ll have you, dummy.”

When Parker woke up the next morning, he had a crushing hangover, and a heavy weight on his chest, which, upon further inspection, turned out to be Kiara’s head. They had crashed on the couch in John B’s living room after their party at the boneyard had flopped and they had decided to just get drunk at the Château. Just in his pants, John B walked by, greeting them and getting a small “Hello” out of Kiara in return. Parker just groaned, closing his eyes again and raising a hand.

His attention was only averted from his buzzing headache by the door to JJ’s room opening and a blonde girl in just her bikini and a pair of jean shorts hushing out, JJ following right after and watching as she walked out the door.

The moment he knew she wouldn’t hear him anymore, Parker let out a low whistle, earning an annoyed look from the blond one. “Where’d you find that one, pretty boy?”

Flipping him off, JJ grabbed a beer from the freezer and followed John B out to the front porch.

“Psht, Kiara.” Parker whispered, shaking the girl who still slept half on top of him, limbs tangled. She groaned in response.

“I think the pretty boy hates me, whatcha say?” He giggled. Even though he wouldn’t admit it to anyone, not even himself, annoying JJ helped him distract himself from the death of his best friend and the loss of his father.

“You mean JJ?” She chuckled lightly and he hummed.

“I dunno. Maybe a little. But you just can’t seem to stop teasing him, either.” She smirked and he roughened up her hair in response.

“Man, Parker.” She screeched, pushing him off with a laugh. He took his newfound freedom and jumped off the couch, just to sway from the sudden dizziness. He would’ve toppled over if it weren’t for the steadying hand that suddenly lay between his shoulder blades.

“Calm down, Rambo. If you fall in this garbage deposit, you’re probably gonna split your head open.” JJ warned, making sure he was standing steadily before taking his hand away. Parker just gave him a dumbfounded look as he made his way to get another handful of beers.

“Thanks.” He muttered.

“I’m gonna head out!” John B called, not waiting for an answer before storming off to the van.

“Where’s he headed?” Parker asked Pope, who just came inside the house.

“DCS.” He murmured, and Parker’s stomach dropped. That couldn’t be a good sign.

But maybe it was, after all, since that same day Hurricane Agatha was announced.

#JJ Maybank #Outer Banks #obx #Outer Banks Fanfiction #John B #kiara carrera #Pope

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