#This is also The Moustache Trip

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Pressing

Jack Daniels x F!Reader, dude ranch AU

A Palomino oneshot, but can be read on its own

{ Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: E

Summary: Jack marks you as his in an unexpected way.

Warnings: PWP, Jack's belt leaves an impression on reader's skin, unintentional branding, unprotected sex, long-distance relationship, desperate and feral cowboy, no physical descriptions of Reader, very lightly edited, written as part of the Palomino universe, set after the end of the series, but can be read as a oneshot on its own

Word count: 1.4k

Notes: This little story came from an ask sent in by 🐴 anon in December 2022, which I have long lost, about a song that mentions a guy’s belt buckle leaving marks on his girlfriend's inner thigh while fucking. Naturally, they thought of Jack’s belt. 🐴 anon, if you’re still here, thank you for the inspo and for your patience ❤️

Also thank you to @lola-lola-lola for getting me horn knee about our cowboy again 😘 Writing Palomino smut first thing in the year was not on my 2024 bingo card, and I’m not mad about it!

Cutest dividers by @firefly-graphics.

It’s been two and a half months. Week after wretched week of phone calls on stolen time. Day after day of aching to reach through the phone screen and the distance between you to touch him.

It’s hard being hundreds and hundreds of miles apart. It’s even harder on weeks when he’s in the mountains with no reception. Harder to find time to call when you have to work late and he has to get up at dawn.

But you endure it all - for days like this. 

It’s a rare weekend off in the high season, with Teak pulling back-to-back pack trips to cover for him, joking that he can’t take all his sighing and pining for his Darlin’ anymore.

Jack takes the last flight out on Friday night, arriving first thing on Saturday morning, before the city - or you - wake up. You’re half-buried under the duvet when the jingle of the key in the door jolts you from shallow slumber.

On unsteady feet, you wobble out into the hallway, crashing into the walls as you go, balance off-kilter from sleep.

But it’s ok - he catches you, all white t-shirt and tight blue jeans. Incognito, if you will, in casual sneakers, but the cowboy hat is on as always. You knock it off post-haste, burying your face in the side of his neck in a desperate need for contact, his warmth seeping into your skin and wrapping you up in the deepest of comforts.

His hair is longer than he usually keeps it, and your fingers twist into his tousled curls when you pull back, taking in the stubble on his sharp jawline, and his tired eyes. But before you can say anything, he leans in and slants his lips over yours.

The taste of airplane coffee is sharp and bitter on his tongue as he kisses you deep and messy. You startle when he suddenly slams the door shut behind him, not realising it was still open, and his beat-up weekend bag is tossed carelessly behind him somewhere in the doorway. 

The legs of the kitchen table scrape jarringly against the floor as he crowds you onto it, big hands cupping your ass and pulling you against his straining erection through his jeans.

‘Fuck, it’s been too long, darlin’.’ His voice is gravelly from an apparently sleepless overnight flight, and hearing his voice finally on the shell of your ear has you whimpering needily.

‘Can’t wait any more,’ he growls, desperation thick in his voice.

With a flick of his wrists, he shucks off your ratty sleep shirt, eyes hooded as he gazes down at your tits, like he can’t believe he’s actually touching you. Cupping them, soft and heavy, with reverent, rope-worn palms, he sucks one nipple after the other between his lips, making you squirm against him and leak wet and sticky between your thighs.

Strong hands hold you in place easily as you buck, the scrape of his moustache almost painful on your over-sensitive skin, nerve endings on fire after being deprived for long weeks. 

Too impatient to wait, you tug your pyjamas shorts down your hips and kick them off clumsily, panties tangled in your damp folds as you writhe under him. 

You feel the breath catch in his broad chest at the peek of your pussy, a rapidly growing damp spot darkening your cotton underwear. Hooking his thumb under the fabric, he tugs it unceremoniously to the side, baring you to him. 

‘Look at all this,’ he marvels, tracing the fleshy pad of his thumb through your folds, making you arch clean off the table. ‘So wet for me and you’ve barely woken up.’

‘Been thinking about you the while night,’ you admit, hips twitching as you chase his touch. ‘Couldn’t sleep.’

‘Did you touch yourself, darlin’?’

You shake your head vehemently. ‘No. Wanted your fingers. Your cock.’

His nostrils flare at your answer, unabashedly possessive in the way he looms over you. 

‘Good girl,’ he murmurs into your throat, nosing the side of your neck while thick fingers thrum against your clit. ‘I was so hard for you the whole fuckin’ flight.’ 

As if to prove it to you - not that you need it - he rolls his hips into your inner thigh, the hard bulge undeniable.

You mewl, hooking your ankles around his waist. ‘Fuck me now, Jack - please.’

There’s a wordless fumble for the solid sterling flask bottle of his belt buckle, his usual level-headed composure nowhere to be found as he pushes down his jeans with shaking hands, just enough to pull his cock out of its denim confines - 

And then he thrusts home inside you.

After months of only your fingers, it’s a stretch. But what a delicious stretch it is.

You feel him throb deep inside you, feel the thunder of a pained groan in his chest, pressed up against yours. Your cunt is all slick and give to his determined strokes as he begins to move. 

There’s no finesse, hardly any awareness, when he fucks frantically into you. His solid weight pins you to the table, and it rattles precariously under your back.

Your legs are splayed obscenely wide and bent at the knees while Jack pounds into your wet heat, eyes wild and mouth hanging open, watching your tits bounce as you take him, your nails digging into the cotton of his white t-shirt. He never did take off your panties, and the fabric rubs your clit just so with every one of his thrusts, rapidly sending you to the edge.

In the back of your mind, you’re aware of the coarse scrape of his jeans against your inner thighs, and something digs hard into the tender skin, the repeated motion dulling the sensation to an almost numb pressure. 

When you cum, you’re crying out before your head catches up, your body convulsing with blind bliss as your pussy clenches around him in a hot rush. The blood pounding in your ears is drowned out by your chants of his name, and then his hips start to stutter and his whole body tenses, frantic eyes on yours as he teeters on the edge. 

‘Where, darlin’?’

‘Inside me.’

The words have barely left you and he’s coming, broken pants against your lips as he comes and comes and comes - spilling inside you, filling you to the brim until he’s empty, turned inside out.

Slumped, boneless on top of you, humid pants pressed into your shoulder, his fingers tangle with yours, squeezing as if to let you know that he’s here.

You almost doze off, the gradually slowing rise and fall of the cowboy’s broad chest a comforting anchor, when he rouses you with gentle lips along your jaw. You giggle, feeling him softening and sliding out of you, making a mess of your kitchen table. 

‘Mornin’ darlin’,’ he says somewhat belatedly, warm eyes crinkling as he smiles at you.

‘Morning,’ you grin back, and when he shifts, you wince at the ache in your joints from being pinned to one spot for this very vigorous wake up call. His hands smooth over your legs in apology, and you jump when his fingertips brush over somewhere at the juncture of your upper thigh that is surprisingly sore.

‘What’s that?’ you ask, puzzled.

Jack doesn’t answer, curiously quiet. You look down to where he’s bracketed between your legs, watching him trace his index finger over the unmistakable imprint of his distinct belt buckle on the inside of your thigh, where it’s been digging into your skin the whole time. 

He glances at you. ‘I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?’

‘No, you didn’t,’ you give him a knowing grin. ‘And are you really sorry, cowboy?’

He doesn’t even have the decency to look sheepish. Gently pinching your swollen folds together, he groans when a milky bead of his cum dribbles out of you, running down the inside of your leg and smearing onto the flask-shaped impression.

‘Ain’t sorry about somethin’ that looks this good on you, darlin’.’

‘Could’ve asked me before you branded me, you know,’ you half-joke, running your own finger along the deep lines carved into your skin, for now.

‘Beggin’ your pardon, I tend to forget my manners when I’m balls deep in a pussy as sweet as yours,’ he retorts, one eyebrow arching when he feels you shiver at his words.

You huff in jest, ‘Doesn’t sound like much of an apology if you asked me.’

‘Whatcha want, darlin’? Me on my hands and knees for you?’

Heat flashes under your skin, from your cheeks down to your toes, and Jack’s eyes darken as his tongue wets his bottom lip. ‘Alright. I hear you loud and clear, ma’am.’

Slowly, he sinks onto his knees in front of you, his joints creaking endearingly as he goes, and you can’t help but tease, ‘Easy there, cowboy.’

The wicked tip of his tongue peeks out, and you bite your lip in a moan when it cleverly traces the outline of the belt buckle on your skin, ending in a playful nip that pulls a gasp from you.

With an unapologetically smug grin, Jack winks. ‘I’m only just gettin’ started, darlin’.’

Note: Thank you for reading ❤️ I’ve missed these two, and if you’re new to Palomino, I hope you’ll give the series a chance!

#palomino series #jack daniels fanfiction #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x you #jack daniels x f!reader #jack daniels x fem!reader #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x f!reader #agent whiskey x fem!reader #x reader #jack daniels imagine #agent whiskey imagine #jack daniels smut #agent whiskey smut

[aydracz]

South Downs Happy Husbands

@idkchatie

(More pics below)

Buzzing to share these with you! While on our trip to London to see Nye (which was phenomenal and so was meeting Michael afterwards!), @0xlilith and I made a day trip to the South Downs to see where the ineffable husbands will spend their retirement.

We were blown away (figuratively and literally) by the South Downs! And then the time came to take out some amazing fanart and take photos of what Crowley and Aziraphale might be up to in the future.

Couldn't find the creator - please help, so I can credit them

@blairamok

@lizulimu on X

@numbuh424

Couldn't find the creator - please help, so I can credit them

Couldn't find the creator - please help, so I can credit them

@tio-trile

@kidovna

Bonus - @0xlilith and I, the rational adults that we are, decided to draw magician moustaches, print out the first photo and go to the National Theatre again to show it to Michael Sheen. Sadly, he didn't do stage door that night. But we met many wonderful people in the queue so it was a great evening nonetheless!

We had a blast doing this and many new headcanons came out of this trip. For example:

Crowley shouts at all the rabbits because they are eating his garden produce. Until he notices there are also little bunnies and he simply cannot shout at those. He ends up dedicating part of his garden to the rabbits. Aziraphale finds this endearing.

While on their walks on the cliffs, Crowley picks up snails.

Crowley makes up random stories about the local lore and tells them to the tourists. Aziraphale puts and end to this when the stories gradually become more and more unhinged.

Aziraphale takes up bird watching.

Crowley makes fun of it at first but then he also takes up bird watching.

Aziraphale and Crowley start competing in bird watching.

Aziraphale doesn't believe Crowley saw the birds he claims he did.

Crowley is adamant he really saw the yellow-breasted tit.

Aziraphale calls Crowley a yellow-breasted tit.

Etc etc.

Hope you enjoy these as much as we enjoyed making them!

And if you are in London right now, some are actually glued to the benches around the Bandstand in Battersea Park. Check out my previous post to get the details!

#the future we were promised #nothing but the very best for the group of the two of them #the nightingales shall sing again in the south downs #crowley #aziraphale #good omens #good omens season 2 #aziraphale and crowley #go2 #gomens #ineffable husbands #ineffable spouses #aziracrow #michael sheen #good omens 2 #david tennant #neil gaiman #south downs #south downs cottage #seven sisters #art #good omens fandom #good omens fanart #aziraphale fanart #crowley fanart #go fanart #go2 fanart #good omens 2 fanart #ineffable fanart #fanart

[vivwritesfics]

Curious what if we switch the roles 👀

Cowboy Rooster and Pilot Reader,

Also hope you have a good day:)

-🐎

So I haven't made the reader a pilot, but I hope you still like it love

Alsooooo I started writing a whole ass cowboy Bob fic and it's all I can think about

Bradley had been riding up to his father's fishing cabin since he was a boy. His mom took him up there every summer when he was growing up.

The walls were littered with pictures of his parents, of his dad and his best friend on their fishing trips. Growing up Bradley's mom used to tell him stories about his father, about what happened on those fishing trips he took with Mav.

When his mother died, Bradley stopped riding up to the cabin. He had no reason to now she was gone,nobody special to take up there.

But then he met her. He caught her eye from across the bar, she claimed that it was his moustache and ancient cowboy hat that made him stand out. Rooster took her home that night.

And then the next night.

And then the next morning she was riding on the back of Texas, her arms wrapped around his waist as he took her around the property. It was almost like she hadn't left since.

Bradley took her to the fishing cabin. He didn't ride up like he did when he was a kid, instead taking her in his truck. His hand was on her thigh for the entire drive.

When Bradley got to the cabin, he couldn't help but apologise for how dusty everything was. But she didn’t care as she pulled him onto the bed, pulled him on top of her abd wrapped her legs around him.

Bradley took his hat off and cradled her head, deepening the kiss. It would have been a miracle if the ancient bed made it through the night.

#bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw x you #rooster x reader #rooster #rooster imagine #rooster fluff #rooster x you #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun rooster #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller #cowboy!au #miles teller imagine #miles teller x reader

[he-goes-down]

0. There Was A Time

fic chapters/warnings/disclaimers/ect

:DISCLAIMER:

Mentions of drugs/ sex ect.

English is not my first language

POV changes

x reader

inconsistent updates

time line is not perfect or accurate

Character may also not be accurate

I'll also be posting this on wattpad and maybe ao3

So if you see it wasn't stolen<3

Also i dont know how tumblr works and how to link chapters together(someone send help)

ALSO THIS NOT EDITED IN ANYWAY SO SORRY IF THERE ARE SPELLING MISTAKES

THANK YOU FOR READING MWUAH MWUAH

LEAVE COMMENTS <3

The studio was warm in the coldest night of this Autumn, warm yellowish light and the red carpeted floor made it feel like a cosy log cabin. A full drum set with a few too many ride cymbals and windchimes sat close to the middle of the fat bare bricked wall, with a small metal bucket that had the remains of broken splinter drumsticks. A rack of guitars and two bass holders stood next to the right wall where an old armchair sits, a few different sized amps scattered round the square room. Right in front of the glass that separates the control room from the studio three mic stand in a line with noise cancelling boxes surrounding each of them.

In the control room there is a strong smell of weed and other smokeable herbs, "No! You can't take Runaway Blues off the album!" A man with short shoulder length brown hair and a moustache protested as he puffed on his cigarette as he lied back on the couch, his dark glasses fell back on his face as he tilted his head back. "I agree with Jake. It shows how good we are even when we're shit faced." The man with long curly hair, a gorgeous ethnic nose, stood up – towering over the other 4 people in the sesh – and began to roll another blunt on one of the control panels. The one that started this debated piped in, "Thanks Dan for taking my side." He said sarcastically, his curly mullet was like a solid cloud on his head, and he has a moustache like Jake. "We'll our wonderful manager and producer here," A man that looked like Jesus pointed to a woman that sat next to Jake on the couch. "Was the one that wasn't shit faced, I think that's why it was actually good, Joshua." He finished. "Hey, hey, I'm not saying it's shit because of you, please believe me y/n!" Josh dramatically pleaded to y/n. She was looking up at the ceiling. Pupils dilated. Blunt in hand. "Just, make it shorter." She said confidently, waving her hand a bit. Still not looking at anyone and head craned back. "You have the answer to everything." Danny said his mouth slightly gaped that such a simple solution didn't register in any of their minds. Or he's just on a psychedelic trip and can't spark up a brain cell.

The following week the band had dates in LA since they were still doing there 'Dreams in Gold' Tour. The band was already at the venue setting up, some still sleeping in the bus. Y/n had some business to attend to in their studio in New York before going down to LA. She decided to walk down the infamous Sunset Strip, as a historic music place like this could not go untrekked when having the chance. Wearing a black turtleneck, dark blue flare jeans with dark brown boots and a satchel bag hanging from her shoulder, a small suitcase's handle in the other hand while the silver case dragged its wheels on the floor. As she caught the sight of the colourful sign of The Rainbow, a voice called to her. "Y/n?" A older man, short blondish hair, leather jacket, sunglasses.

Axl Rose.

And like the trigger of a gun being pulled,

A life was lost.

(or misplaced)

Y/n's POV:

Everything stood still,

I stood still.

Then it all went dark. It was a black lifeless void.

Falling backwards but being physically still.

Time was reversing.

A previous life. My life?

Memories rolling past like an old film.

My head spiralled.

I can't comprehend this. What is happening to me?

My first years of school, late 60's early 70's. That's not right. It was the early 2000's.

Falling in love with music, Queen, Elton John.

Highschool was trip. My parents being stricter than anyone else's, they didn't believe I could have a job as in the music industry.

Studying music in college then going on the Uni and taking a science course to get my folks off my back.

One of my most successful record deals was Mötley Crüe and Bon Jovi.

Before they even started writing lyrics for their songs, I knew it off by heart and helped them gain success with it and recording went like dream.

Now I was searching the East Coast for a new band to sign.

March 1985, The City of Angels.

A flash of light, and my eyes flickered open.

It a cold night, dark but the city light was somewhat comforting.

It was the Sunset Strip, but something was...

Off.

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

OMG SORRY IF IT'S SHIT

THIS WAS LIKE THE INTRODUCTION, FIRST PART IS COMING OUT SOON 

IM SO EXCITED

(Band at the beginning is greta van fleet )

#guns n roses #axl rose #slash #duff mckagan #izzy stradlin #steven adler #gnr fanfiction #x reader #axl rose x reader #slash x reader #duff mckagan x reader #izzy stradlin x reader #steven adler x reader #time travel #gnr #axl gnr #slash gnr #duff gnr #izzy gnr #steven gnr #guns n roses fanfic #Spotify

[cbsxreader]

if ur ok with more fantastical and/or meta stuff, could i please have the mercs with an s/o who was teleported to the tf2 verse from a much more serious setting and is still getting used to their comedic surroundings?

Oooh

Mercs with an S/o who is from a different universe

Tw: (slight mention of drinking in Demo's one)

Scout

Is a bit confused, since he's used to his world and hasn't really thought of it being different in some way.

But he does kind of understand his S/o's frustration, from what he's heard from them, his world doesn't seem bad in the slightest.

If his S/o asks him about something, he'll act as if he knows all about it, but his S/o can tell that he's just a motormouth. He does say the truth sometimes, but it sounds so outrageous that his S/o doesn't believe him anyways.

"Did ya' know that I'm God's gift to women?"

"Yeah...sure you are."

Soldier

Loves that his S/o is tough and ready for anything, but is oblivious to the fact that something must have happened to them that made them that way.

Once he does get it though, he is really protective of his S/o in the way that he teaches them his infamous necksnap, how to defend themselves and how to use certain weapons.

"You're doing great, cupcake!"

Pyro

Is kind of a distraction for his S/o.

Like, both the fact that they're strangelly wholesome and that they see the world completely differently makes their S/o worry less about everything else.

Pyro holds their S/o's hand if they are in public or are feeling paranoid.

If their S/o wants an explanation for something they'll have to ask someone else, but if their S/o tells them about it afterwards, they will draw a picture of them

Demoman

He is at a loss for words at first, because he, just like his coworkers, hasn't thought about his world differently from a different perspective.

He, for once, worries about his S/o drinking their trauma away and hides his alchohol better, locking it away in safes, lockers and cabinets.

If his S/o feels paranoid, he'll bring them away from people and soothe them.

Engineer

He's honestly sorry for it, but there are times when he's more enticed about how his S/o might have ended up in his world than his S/o's world itself or their backstory.

"Did ya' temper with anything that could have caused ya' to teleport to our universe?"

"...We were just talking about how leaders in my world killed people for no reason..."

"*clears throat* oh..right, my apologies...carry on..."

But other than that, he tackles one silly thing after another, telling his S/o about them as well as providing theories to them about his world to calm them down and keep them from overthinking.

Heavy

Is willing to act as a personal bodyguard for his S/o. He always stays by their side and makes sure they're not feeling paranoid or stressed.

If his S/o asks something about his world, he tries to explain it but quickly starts tripping over his words, apologizes and suggests they go and visit Medic or Engineer.

Heavy is also a good listener and wants to know what his S/o's world was like.

Medic

He is INVESTED in his S/o's world and backstory, gladly listening to them when they feel like talking about it. He even specifically asks to not leave out the gruesome and/or serious details.

S/o: *talking about a traumatizing event that dramatically changed their life*

Medic: *looking at his S/o, listening to them carefully, hand under his chin, unbothered by the theme*

Medic lets them watch his operations if his S/o needs a bit of space to breathe from exploring his comedic world.

Would try to explain anything that ponders his S/o's mind about his world, succeeding in explaining his medical adventures and achievements.

Sniper

He tries to slowly but steadily explain how the world works and he himself realizes how silly it is compared to his S/o's home.

"Wait, wait. So, New Zealand is underwater and you're the last person from there and Australia is full of buff people with moustaches, because of a metal very creatively called 'Australium'?"

"Yea...we're all so used these things that Oi haven't even thought why they work in such ways.."

He understands that his S/o is still paranoid and helps them get used to his world by making lighthearted jokes about their surroundings as well as actually gently soothing them when they're paranoid.

Spy

Spy is a bit confused at first, thinking his S/o is crazy. But he spends more time with them and from the way they talk, act and interact with their surroundings, he can tell that they're telling the truth.

If his S/o is paranoid or stressed, he lets them use his cloak, so they can observe the chaos from aside and learn the weirdness of his world without needing to worry about them getting involved in it.

Spy also promises his S/o that he's always going to make sure they're safe and will watch their back.

"From now on, zhere won't be a time when you aren't safe."

Ms. Pauling

Finally, someone understands her!

"Wow! And they called me crazy, can you believe it!?"

Pauling is a great listener and lets her S/o talk about themselves and their world, if it makes them feel better.

Always provides her S/o with something to always protect themselves with (guns, knives, tranquilizers - you name it)

She may or may not sneak her S/o in to her office, if they're feeling anxious about their surroundings.

Sorry for the wait, anon!

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 x reader #tf2 x reader requests #tf2 scout x reader #tf2 scout #tf2 soldier x reader #tf2 solly x reader #tf2 solly #tf2 soldier #tf2 pyro x reader #tf2 pyro #tf2 demoman x reader #tf2 demo #tf2 demoman #tf2 engineer x reader #tf2 engie x reader #tf2 engie #tf2 engineer #tf2 heavy x reader #tf2 heavy #tf2 medic x reader #tf2 medic #tf2 sniper x reader #tf2 sniper #tf2 spy x reader #tf2 spy #tf2 miss pauling x reader #tf2 ms pauling #tf2 miss pauling

[loving-apparitions]

I think this guy would be confused as to whether he's impressed or jealous when he first meets you/hears about you. There's definitely a stretch of time where he doesn't understand his feelings, he just knows that you have this cool air about you and he can't stand it.

That would also lead to him ordering more aggressive tactics and new activities for his own mafia. He writes it off as "he has to prove that he's cooler and more powerful than this other mafia boss" but deep down it's "I need this other mafia boss to think I'm cool and powerful."

So like, he's ordering his men to spend more time lurking, plastering more propaganda around town, starting new cooking projects, redoing decor. He might start dressing differently or altering the uniforms. He brags even more about how big his empire is.

And whatever activity your mafia is known for? He's trying to do the same, or a variation of it. So if you're also specializing in cooking, he's going even harder on his men to cook a wider variety and to do so better, and he's making posters that claim good quality of his food.

He doesn't try to meet with you often, playing more passive aggressive by steering clear of you and doubling down on what he considers comeback actions. Most likely if you speak face to face, it will be you confronting him. When he does talk to you, he's very red in the face, and rarely tripping on his words.

When he first starts communicating with you, it's a lot of "You have a lot of nerve," "I run the largest and most talented mafia of chefs," "My wealth and fashion are very impressive, even if yours is too," "No matter how good you are in your position, you're no match to me:" A lot of...praising himself and accidentally complimenting you.

If you taunt him at all it will actually fluster him and he'll be thinking about it for a long time.

The Mafia members notice that their boss is acting differently and is WAY more caught up on you than anyone else he's ever had a problem with. They come to know your name and face pretty quickly. Every sighting or piece of news about you or your mafia has them gossiping.

Whether on his own, talking to someone, or face to face with you, he has a habit of tugging at his moustache, yanking down on his hat, or swinging his fists downwards, as well as speaking more quickly, when you're on his mind.

And while he tries to one up you, attacking you isn't his first thought. Any time he tries to challenge you to battle himself, he finds that he's much clumsier. So he usually ducks out and says something like real strength is judged by manpower and leadership before offering an underling-on-underling spar instead.

If you don't eventually just kiss this guy, then one day he's gonna snap when he goes to yell at you and ends up just angry stuttering then planting a fierce kiss on you.

Eventually you two might settle on an alliance. Maybe that means your own territories and orders of business but with no competition, or maybe that means actually merging your territories, underlings, and conduct. It depends on what kind of mafia you're running.

The boss was already peacocking and he continues to do so once you start dating. Now he wants to show off by doing things for you and giving you gifts.

Sometimes you can catch him watching you with wide, dazzled eyes. You're just very impressive to him.

#imagines #romantic #a hat in time x reader #a hat in time x reader romantic #mafia boss x reader #mafia boss x reader romantic

[sstan-hoe]

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒓 𝑵𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝑪𝒊𝒕𝒚

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — lloyd hansen x fem!reader

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — he loved you that night, you didn’t want that night to end but it had to after all he was your mission and you had to finish it…right?

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 — SMUT, minors dni, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, dom!lloyd hansen, cream pie, nipple play, dirty talk, degrading kink, light choking and kinda cum eating if you squint

𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 — okay, okay, first time writing lloyd hansen and it is smut which we know I suck at but people seem to like it. this one is over 3k words and idk if I made a good lloyd or not, @georgiapeach30513 you judge haha, reblog and comment! follow @sstanhoe-updates to get notifications everytime I post!!!! and I feel like all of my fics can have part twos but I never do them so who cares

There he was sitting at the bar wearing a light blue almost white cashmere polo shirt, it had a diamond shaped pattern. The collar and buttons were a beautiful navy blue which reached through all the diamonds.

In his right hand a glass of scotch and his pinkie was adorned by a silver ring while his left wrist held a simple yet expensive watch. The man wore simple black trousers that fitted perfectly with his top.

The hair was combed back with enough gel to make it look natural and his was almost shaved clean except the moustache under his nose. It wasn’t for everyone, but it suited him.

All in all, he looked classy yet extravagant.

That man is Lloyd Hansen one of the deadliest – if not the most – assassin the world has ever seen.

But that brought him a lot of enemies that wanted him dead including your boss.

‘Hansen is a man, and a man can’t resist a pretty little thing like you, seduce him then kill him’, those were the exact words your boss said to you.

You wanted to improve his words. Even though he was a man he was still dangerous and could probably – definitely – kill you with his dick still in your vagina.

Taking a deep breath, you strode towards the bar with confidence.

“One Sex on the Beach please,” a smirk sneaked on Lloyd’s lips as heard your voice.

He saw you before you even saw him. Outside the bar wearing a black bodycon dress that hugged your figure perfectly and pushed up your breasts along with black Louboutin with their signature red sole.

Your wrist was embellished my a silver bracelet that matched you necklace and hoop earrings with the intention of looking elegant which you accomplished.

Unlike him though you only dressed like this for tonight and Lloyd knew that.

The assassin also knew that your boss set you up to kill him and he had to admit you weren’t bad at your job and tonight he wanted to find out how good.

By far Lloyd learned that you were able to hack his system – which he realized though and gave you false information – and trace him. Well, he wanted you to but still didn’t make it easy for you.

The only thing missing was your combat and will to kill, but he would find out soon.

“Is anyone sitting here?” you questioned him with a smile. “The seat is all yours,” he answered politely with a hint of dryness.

Not letting it phase you, you half turned to him and put your arms in front of you pushing up your cleavage.

“Why is a handsome man like you sitting all alone here?” his face turned to you after you began speaking. A small smirk sneaked on his lips, “I always thought this was a line men used.”

“Well but it did get your attention, so I guess it works,” you gave him a satisfied look, “however you didn’t answer my question.”

“I’m here for a work trip sunshine…now what drove you here?” a pet name was already a good direction.

“Loneliness…my boy- ex-boyfriend cheated on me with one of his co-worker’s and I caught him in the act,” you lied swirling the liquid in you glass around. To make the story more believable you let out a hurt sigh.

“But I guess it’s my fault. When we had sex, I couldn’t even have an orgasm and I wasn’t really present the last few month, I was too busy with work.”

Okay that wasn’t even a complete lie, you were busy with work and because of that you didn’t have time to do it yourself and your actual ex-boyfriend couldn’t make you come which to be honest was part of the reason you left him.

A chuckle came from Lloyd’s side as he listened to you. “Sunshine, I don’t think it was your fault you couldn’t get an orgasm and that ex of yours could’ve just done it himself.”

“Are you sure? There nothing wrong with me?” you looked up at him through your lashes.

This may be a cheap move, but you could really use an orgasm and that man next to you looked like a god.

Maybe you could kill him after you had your orgasm…that would prevent you from possibly having to give him head and getting his cum all over your face. You hated it when your ex-boyfriend would force you onto your knees to cover your face with his seed.

“No, sunshine and I can convince you from the oppisite,” he held out his hand while he spoke, “I got this big empty suit, and I could use some company.”

“Oh, with pleasure.” Lloyd gently pulled you up from your seat and led you to the elevator.

His right hand travelled down the small of your back around your waist pulling you against him. You giggled at his action although you didn’t know if that was in character or you.

The moment you stepped inside that elevator your back was pressed against the wall.

Llyod’s pressed his lips on yours without hesitation you kissed him back. Your lips glided over each other smoothly, his felt soft and warm.

His hands went down to your thighs and in one go he lifted you up causing you to gasp which gave Lloyd the chance to slide his tounge inside your mouth. Your hands grasped his shoulders for support.

The sound of the elevator didn’t stop the two of you instead Lloyd deepened the kiss.

You really thought that man couldn’t get any hotter and then he carried you effortlessly to his room.

He set you down gently and let his hands trail up your body coming to a halt on your neck. Lloyd slowed the kiss down ending it with a teasing bite on your lip. “Let’s get down to business sunshine,” he whispered against your lips.

You felt hot and the kiss left you wanting more. Never in your life have you been kissed like that, it made you feel special.

In a swift motion Lloyd had you in the room on the king-sized bed which was oh so comfortable.

Laying back you propped yourself on the elbows. Wanting to kick your heels of the assassin stopped you, “nah sunshine those stay on.”

Instead, you angled your legs and spread them apart revealing your naked cunt.

“Sunshine what a bad girl you are…” Lloyd shook his head before getting on his knees in front of the bed. He took your ankles to dragging you to the edge licking his lips.

You felt his hands move back to your thighs, they were so big and rough yet so gently and soft at the same time. With his hands Lloyd pushed the fabric of your dress up to get a better look at your pussy.

Then his hands on your thighs tightened, blunt nails dug into your flesh. The man lifted his head, “look at me.” You looked deep into his beautiful blue eyes and then…he kissed down to your pulsing vagina.

He kissed the bud of your core receiving a whine from you, “please.”

Lloyd did nothing but giving you pouty lips mocking you. He enjoyed the fact that he had you needy for him in a matter of minutes.

With his hands holding your thighs in place you didn’t have much room to move, but one thing you could do. You closed your knees around Lloyd’s head keeping him right in front of your heat.

You looked him deep in the eyes tightening your knees behind his head.

“You’re an eager one huh. You want it sunshine?” he sucked the inside of your thigh intending to leave a hickey, “then beg for it slut.”

The feeling of his wet, warm tounge smoothing your skin made a quite moan leave your lips.

“Please, please eat my pussy, pretty please?” you looked at him with pleading eyes. Lloyd licked his lips as he stared at you hungrily. His eyes left yours and went to your dripping core, “is that all for me? wet like bitch in heat.”

His moustache grazed over your bundle of nerves, the sensation made your legs twitch.

Only a second later he latched onto your pussy, tounge diving into your leaking hole, licking, moving up and down. You let a pornographic moan go as Lloyd nudged your clit with his sinful tounge.

His right hand left your thigh and sneaked around to your core, two of his finger entered you without warning while his tounge kept devouring your clit.

Lloyd curled, moved his fingers inside of you hitting that spot and together his actions made you feel pure euphoria. “You’re already so tight around my fingers sunshine…imagine how you feel wrapped around my big fat cock.”

At his words you squeezed your pussy together causing Lloyd to groan, “I will make you come harder than you ever did before and then, then imma fuck you till you can’t walk sunshine on every surface in this room like the little slut you are.”

That god’s forsaken man dirty mouth, “oh sunshine you can barley take my fingers…how will you be able to take my cock?”

You cried out in pleasure, “fuck Lloyd!” His voice turned you and worked you closer to your release. “Say my name – louder,” the assassin loved the way you called for him. Your mouth opened but only a pathetic came past as a knot was forming your stomache ready to explode.

His movements slowed and he lifted his head catching your eyes, “I know you’re close sunshine, but until you do as I say you won’t come…”

Lloyd pumped his fingers at a torturous pace keeping on the edge of your orgasm.

“Lloyd!” you screamed as loud as possible which to be honest wasn’t very loud. “Sunshine…I get this icky feeling that there is something missing,” he said acting as if he was thinking.

Once again, he curled his fingers inside you hitting the spot. It gave the knot another nudge but not enough to tip off. “Lloyd, please let me cum…please, please!” A satisfied grin spread across his lips.

“Cum, cum for me pretty sunshine,” he picked up his pace adding his sinful tounge again. Your walls clutched his fingers, thighs shaking violently and the knot in your stomache exploded, breath knocked out of you lungs, “Lloyd!” You eyes rolled in the back of your head while Lloyd fingered you through your orgasm.

You were out of breath as you came down from your high, your thoughts were all over the place.

But as Lloyd hands left your heat and felt your thighs up it hit you like a truck. The mission, you had to kill the man who just gave you the most powerful orgasm you ever had. Now or never, you thought.

Your legs were already in the right place however you closed them around his head as hard as you could now. With momentum you pushed Lloyd over.

The fact that his moustache landed right on your sensitive clit caused a moan from you.

“Oh god,” you whispered to yourself. You got what you wanted now on to kill him. “little slut is still so eager for my mouth?” His face was covered with your pussy giving him no real chance to see what you were doing.

You pulled a knife from your bra wanting to stab him in the arm first that would cause a distraction and then you could aim for the chest.

Lifting your arm, you stabbed into his arm or at least you thought. Lloyd was quick enough to catch your wrist with his other hand right before you could hit him.

In a swift motion he turned the tables back around. The knife fell from your hand in shock as he pinned you back down. Your eyes widen while he only looked at with a smirk and something that you couldn’t quite make out.

“Really sunshine? You just used me for an orgasm?” that bastard was mocking you and then he whispered your name, “I expected better from you.”

A short hint of fright passed through your expression, “what? Did you really think you could kill me this easily? Sunshine, I did my research and just a tip your first mistake was calling me by my name cuz I never gave you mine…”

You wanted to smack yourself for that small but fatal mistake. You were so lost in the moment that you forgot what was happening.

“I’ve seen you fight, seen what you can do.” You put on a glare at his words, “what are you trying to do?” “Well, you own me an orgasm.”

He unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants pulling out his cock. Your eyes skipped down to his hard member, he was thick and at least 6 and a half inch long. Veiny and rock hard. “You know I gotta admit I was already hard for you when you walked in that bar but trying to kill me? That just made me harder.”

“Then I hope you like this,” you said before lifting your knee and pushing it in his ass.

His body fell over your while he tried to catch himself, he let go of your wrists. You rolled him over once again however this time there was no bed anymore causing both you to fall to the ground.

Quickly you tried to stand up, that was when a gun catched your eyes on the nightstand. You were almost standing when Lloyd grabbed your waist pulling you back down right on his cock. Both of you groaned at the feeling. You squeezed him, he filled you perfectly.

“God, you’re so tight sunshine.” His head fell back on the ground as he bucked his hips up.

You hated and loved how good he felt inside of you. Lloyd gripped your hips moving you with his rhythm. You needed more now moving up and down his cock by yourself.

“Let’s find out how much you can take,” Lloyd said flipping you over, your back hit the ground and his cock hit deep inside you at the new position. Moaning you put your hands on his shoulders, “take it off, take that fucking polo off.”

With a grin he let go of you and pulled his polo over his head revealing his naked chest.

Your mouth watered at the sight of his perfectly sculpted chest, he looked like I god. You fingers traced over his toned chest, “you’re beautiful,” you whispered.

Lloyd’s grin turned into a smirk only then you realized what you just said.

You hand clasped over your mouth in regret. The man over you shook his head taking your hand and interlacing his fingers with yours, “believe me if I didn’t think you were the most beautiful woman, I’d ever seen you wouldn’t be under me and alive.”

For anyone else this might have sounded sick, but you grabbed his neck pulling him into a searing kiss. He gently bit your lip making you open your mouth, Lloyd turned the kiss from passionate to dirty as he gave you an open-mouthed kiss.

Then you squeezed his cock with your walls at the feeling, he growled and began pounding in your pussy with all his strength.

Lloyd felt the need to play with something, so he took his hand from yours to rip your dress open as the other one was occupied holding himself over you.

You didn’t care you only wanted him.

You cried out, gasping, moaning into his mouth. Arms holding onto his should leaving red scratch mark. “I love the sounds you make when I fuck you,” he muttered.

Everytime, he snapped his hips against yours you could make out slap sounds from his balls hitting your ass, “look at me, be a good girl and look at me.” You looked up, you saw his tensed face that lead you to believe he was about to come.

His hand kneaded your breast, thumb circling your hardened nipple but without giving you time to prepare – not that you ever could – he put his head down latching on to your nipple. His tounge felt cold stimulating your nipple.

Your hand travelled from his shoulder into his hair pulling hard on the light brown hair as he bit down on your nipple.

“Milk me dry sunshine, come on…” closing your walls around him once again you arched your back.

“You love this, don’t you? You love it when I degrade you. Let me hear how much you love it.” Your moans grew louder and louder, “cum for me you little slut and then you’re gonna milk me and take every drop I give you!”

The familiar knot that formed in your stomache snapped with a loud shout of Lloyd’s name, throwing your head back as your thoughts were consumed by the blissful feeling in your veins.

You squeezed around him while pulling at his hair, scratching his scalp with your nails, you felt his cock twitch in your cunt and then he filled you with his seed.

Lloyd continued fucking you, “yes fill me up, please Lloyd.”

He let go with a groan, there hand that previously played with your breast moved to your throat pressing slightly down.

As told, you milked every drop of him. Slowly he withdrew himself from your hole. His cock was covered in a mixture of his and your come. With a grin he watched his come leak from your hole before pushing it back in, “We can't let anything go to waste now can we?”

He pulled his fingers back out, they were now too covered in cum. Lloyd lifted them to his mouth, licking them clean, making a delighted noise.

“We taste amazing sunshine, wanna try?” You nodded weakly, he dipped down to kiss you.

You could taste the light salty note on his tongue as she thought with yours over dominance.

“We really do taste amazing,” you giggled after pulling apart, still in the post-sex bliss.

Lloyd removed himself from above you, not thinking you tried to stand up but your knees buckled almost in. The assassin teasingly shook his head and picked you up in bridal style, “told you I'd fuck you until you can't walk.”

He laid you down on the king-sized bed which you realized was very comfortable. You watched him walk to the bathroom to get a wet cloth.

Coming back he was only in his boxers, cock tucked back in.

Gently cleaned you up, sometimes your thigh would twitch when he touched your sensitive skin. After he was finished he helped you out of your dress and stripped off your shoes before laying down next to you and pulling the comforter on top.

You wrapped your arm around his middle, and laid your head on his chest while he put his arm around your shoulders to pull you close.

“I still have to kill you, you know,” you mumbled with closed eyes.

Lloyd chuckled in return, “you could try or come and work for me.” Confused, you opened your eyes looking up at him.

“I have to kill you, I can't work for you.”

“Killing me the first time didn't work, there are no second chances,” he shrugged, although he would probably give you as many chances as you need.

Playfully you hit his chest, “you try killing someone after you just had an orgasm.” “I could kill you right now…”

For once it was your turn to smirk, “no, no you can't, if you wanted you would have already done it.” Your fingers traced patterns over his chest.

“That's quite an assumption there, sunshine.”

“If you really did your research you would know I'm a good judge of character,” you smiled to yourself as you felt Lloyd caress your back. “Well then I guess you just have to trust me not kill you in your sleep or…”

“Or I work for you? I can't, my boss would have my head.”

“If you work for me then no one and I mean no one will hurt you.”

You cocked a brow, “not even you? I don't know anything about you besides what I got from files or other people. What is this for you?”

At the beginning of the night Lloyd had two ways this would go; fuck you and kill you or fuck you and make you work for him. But questions like this were in neither of them an option.

“You’re a great addition for my team and the best fuck I had in years, I may haven't really seen you in action besides on tape. I mean come on were you already so fucked out that–,” Lloyd couldn't finish that sentence as he got hit by you on his shoulder.

“Ouch, what I'm saying is. I wanna see where this goes,” he fake pouted and gently took you chin between his fingers, “why is your face so small?” he suddenly asked.

“Shut it Donkey Kong, I will work for you now sleep,” a last chuckle came from Lloyd before you completely drifted off.

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#lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen smut #lloyd hansen x y/n #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x black reader #lloyd hansen x fem!reader #lloyd hansen fic #lloyd hansen fanfiction #the gray man #my bitch lloyd 👀

[yerrenica]

⋯ JAHA LEE x READER | to call a dog back home

⬦ info; pwp, the p is set up for the p?!?!, enemies to lovers speedrun, size kink, hookups, snow storms, dom/sub, associates with benefits?, fucking for warmth, petplay, vaginal sex, topping from the bottom, under-negotiated kink, voyeurism, handjobs.

⬦ wc; 6.8k

The only thing predictable about Jaha's life is its unpredictability, and it is this precise lack of predictability which has placed Jaha in this particular predicament.

Tell Mongrang to say that three times fast.

Everyone shivers as an angry gust of frigid air blows through their squad. That's something about the wind during this time of year, especially this far out, it blows right through you, cold and cruel like icy knives cutting into your very soul. Jaha had missed the snow during summer, but now he's not so sure. It's midday but the sun is already threatening to set, making it even colder. This far into the snow fields, death could come for anyone at any moment. 

Jaha had tasked himself with leading a team through the dregs of the country's badlands to retrieve something that should've never gotten this far in the first place. What sort of old coot decided to hide his most treasured sword in such a place was beyond him, and honestly, forming a grudge against him didn't seem too far-fetched at the moment.

To think that the geezer also did it while on his deathbed was absurd to Jaha. If you're going to die, then spend your last moments in comfort and warmth and save future generations the trips to icy wastelands.

But alas, what's done is done.

"Alright, it's official, we're lost," said one of their team members, Bitgaram, when they passed the fourth identical snow drift in a row, shaking snow from his hat. Fractured snowflakes collected on his hair and he futilely attempted to brush them away.

"Bitgaram, do you have anything useful to share or are you interested in losing your tongue today?" A raspy, cruel voice floated from somewhere behind Jaha and — ah, and there's the other thing. He's not the only one going after the treasure.

Usually, Jaha wouldn't mind too much (more carnage), even though he doesn't really get along with most other sword masters. But there is a particular brand of animosity between the two of them that Jaha finds a bit exciting, but also exhausting. They don't get along and neither plan to rectify that any time soon.

[Y/N] has spent their entire 3-day freezing expedition insulting him just to make sure of that fact. 

"Apologies, miss [Y/N]," Bitgaram seemed a bit nonplussed, a short stocky kind of man with a wiry moustache, he is one of [Y/N]'s because anyone under anyone else would surely piss themselves. The woman's soldiers held a healthy dose of fear for her, but throughout this outing, Jaha has come to understand that they also have a bit of a suicidal streak. You can only be threatened with bodily harm and mortal peril by your commanding officer so many times before you just stop giving a shit.

The fight itself had been pretty simple, just a group of unlucky swordsmen that'd gotten a little too cocky and refused to hand over the treasure. Jaha had retrieved the sword with some other trinkets from the big box of treasures, and [Y/N] had, well– massacred them.

She'd made quick work of the swordsmen, pushing furious waves of power through the snow.

Their own ranks were fine. Jaha's brothers had taken position above the field, hidden in the tree branches. Jaha's own skills kept him safe and all of [Y/N]'s soldiers were issued rubber soles after an unfortunate mass casualty incident.

The swordsmen, on the other hand, weren't so lucky.

Embarrassingly enough, the woman's shit personality and proclivity for violence was kind of doing it for Jaha, it always has. He supposes that this was a natural progression of his thoughts.

Earlier when they had surveyed the battlefield post-fight, the one [Y/N] had littered with mangled corpses, Jaha would be remiss if he didn't admit that it sparked something hot and heady in the pit of his stomach.

He pushes those thoughts from his mind, letting the icy wind take them away. Well, he makes his best attempt to. He's probably just getting brain damage from the cold. There cannot possibly be another reason that he doesn't want to wring her neck.

To be fair, he's always been a bit intrigued by her, sue him. She'd be right up Jaha's alley if it weren't for the fact they utterly despised each other.

Her tactics on the battlefield were impressive and her bias for extreme violence was just to Jaha's taste. She was also hot, objectively, in a purely work-appropriate observational way.

And then there was, of course, the avalanche.

"Miss [Y/N]!" Officer Occupational Hazard Bitgaram yelled as they trudged through the Northern mountains.

Everyone tensed as the woman swung around to see who exactly had sealed their fate, walking far faster than she should've been through knee-high snow before there was a deep rumbling from somewhere above.

"Take cover!" An angry avalanche set course for them.

Thick sheets of ice and snow threatened to sweep them away and consume them. The team dove to take cover behind trees, hands over their heads to make pockets in the snow in an attempt to save their lives.

Without thinking Jaha had grabbed the person closest to him and dragged them under an outcrop, watching as furious snow passed them by.

A smaller body pressed against him and Jaha subconsciously pulled them closer, burying their face in his chest. Whoever it is is freezing, all hard muscle, and smells good. A fraction of a second later, he realized that they were also tiny, and all of his hair was standing up from static electricity.

Oh shit. He tensed. He's dead.

In an attempt to pull away, his foot slid on a patch of covered ice and a twinge in his ankle made him stumble. Travelling in a group meant less time for his usual morning training. 

That was fine, Jaha thought. With a sound that felt a little too much like a yelp, he channelled his qi. Not the full thing, not all the way. It was too abrupt for him to do that. But it was enough to get blood to his muscles better.

Of course, that didn't make travelling within an avalanche any more pleasant. But at least it kept him from dying.

Ha. A mountain blizzard was a staggeringly vicious thing. He hadn't given that old coot enough credit. This was hard. But he supposes that's what the old man was striving for, to leave behind a legacy. To be remembered for generations to come.

To have been something.

It wasn't all bad, to exist for a purpose. A fixed point to move towards, the surroundings happily out of focus. Jaha had always known that. 

Or at least he did now.

"You'd have crawled into my lap back there if I'd let you, wouldn't you, Master Jaha?” The sounds of the party had been muted from wherever [Y/N] had pulled them to. Some abandoned corner of the building. It was huge, and there were a lot of those. This one had big curtains and wood that were obviously not installed with drunk sword masters in mind.

There was a hand up his shirt and one down his pants. Jaha swore. They were pressed close. Damp wood against his back. Whatever the woman was doing with her hands was making words form slowly, and even then only in fragments. 

Gods, he was sloshed. Seongtae had picked out a deadly slew of liquor for their victory lap.

"Drink a little too much?" [Y/N] asked.

Maybe. "Never."

He tried to coordinate his limbs to do something resembling reciprocity–he wanted to touch her, too–but he only ended up leaning his forehead against the other's hair. His vision swam as he watched his shirt be undone, hands tightening and loosening on black fabric. 

"You're so easy."

Was that true? Yeah, probably. A few drinks, a few murders. The music and food weren't half bad, and things were always so dull otherwise. Didn't he deserve this?

"Look at how simple it is to make you fall apart," [Y/N] had a giddy sort of sneer on. Jaha should say something.  

"Yes'ma'am," he hissed. He wasn't even sure what he'd chosen in reply, but that surprised laugh he got in response sounded mean and hot, so hot. God.

"Is this all I had to do to make you mind your manners? A drunk handjob?"

Jaha's hips jerked. Maybe. Okay, maybe.

"I prefer you like this," continued the woman, "Stay mindless next to me and maybe I'll keep you."

Jaha didn't want to be kept. That was not anything close to being in the script. This whole thing was just a stepping stone, conquer it and move on– oh, but he was close. 

Kept. His dick certainly liked how [Y/N] had phrased it. Maybe he did want that, just a little? His brain was soft and the woman was smiling up at him with eyes that promised something. Like waiting to reward him if he just–

"Uh– fuck," his brain couldn't keep up with his mouth, "Yeah. I'm, agh–"

"Good dog."

He didn't notice he had fallen asleep until something nudged him awake. It had all felt the same: when he opened his eyes he saw white and when he closed them he saw a slightly duller white. The cold was always there. But now it was different. There was someone there, too, against the bleached sky.

"No one could actually be this stupid."

Jaha saw himself move rather than felt it, but he realized dully that [Y/N]'s boot on his chest was the reason, "Get up."

"[Y/N]?" asked Jaha. It hurt to blink, so he kept his eyes shut, "Hi. What're you doing here?"

"Hi yourself," the woman frowned down at him. 

"How did you find me?" He had to be a mile or so from where he had left the others.

"The smell," she huffed, "I followed the smell of pure idiocy, and it led me here. Now get up," she repeated.

"Alright, yeah," said Jaha. It wasn't his idea to be hurled away by an avalanche and pass out, but at least it was [Y/N] who found him, and not the rest of the crew. It might be quicker this way, too.

"Did you not hear me?" came a sharp voice, "Jaha," it said sternly.

"What is it?"

"Stand up."

"...Am I not?"

He was not. It seemed he hadn't moved from the first time he had been instructed. Which was strange, because he definitely remembered doing so. But now that he was being hefted up, it struck him that this was completely different. 

Jaha looked back over his shoulder, towards the top of the mountain, "What about the others?"

"The others–?" The woman seemed to remember all at once what Jaha was talking about, "Forget about them."

"Huh– why?"

"What do you mean why? Because you're barely conscious," [Y/N] snapped, "There's a cave up ahead. I'm bringing you there."

Jaha scowled. He wanted to argue, to protest, but the words wouldn't form right through the clacking of his teeth.

The maw of the cave was sizable and opened wide onto the white. This must be why there had been a cliff in the first place. The howling immediately stopped as they crossed the threshold. Temperature-wise, there was not much of a difference. Being out of the wind, however, did go a long way. Jaha felt like the boulder resting on his lungs had been downgraded to a large rock.

"Well," began [Y/N] with a sigh. Jaha had been aware in a vague, through-water sort of way that he had graduated from leaning on the other to being dragged by her, "You've really outdone yourself this time."

He was deposited onto the floor. His vision swam between the blinks of his watery eyes. It was as he pondered the ceiling of the cave, slanted and pockmarked, that Jaha came to the conclusion that he must be lying on his back. There was a tickle in his throat that he couldn't dislodge with coughing. Thoughts came slowly. Irritability lingered.

"That's an ugly face you're pulling towards the one who just saved your life," said [Y/N] from somewhere next to him. 

The last cough left Jaha's chest like a growl. His head spun as if he were falling. Unable to get his bearings or discern where exactly [Y/N] was to glare at her, he rolled himself sideways and spoke with his cheek pressed to the pebble-laden floor.

This whole situation was too reminiscent of his past life.

"If you hadn't intervened, I would have been just fine," Jaha replied. Now that he was slowly regaining some small awareness of his body, he became aware of an acute pain in his temple. His knee was beginning to ache as well.

"Even for you, this is a new level of insanity," [Y/N] continued in a terse tone as if Jaha hadn't spoken. The ground crunched as she busied herself with something the man couldn't discern, "Be grateful that I deemed having you alive would be less work than dragging your dead body back to your subordinates."

There was a retort ready in Jaha's throat, but as footsteps approached, it became harder and harder to remember it. His field of view was overtaken by two boots, the snow on them melting. Then one disappeared from view, and there was a pressure on his chest as he was rolled over onto his back once more.

Many layers of clothes further numbed the sensations that were barely getting through to his body. Still, when [Y/N] threw a leg over him and sunk down to straddle Jaha's hips, he at least attempted to lift his head up.

There was no need. The back of his skull hit the ground immediately. His jaw was opened by one finger pressing into his canines, but then the other paused.

"You channelled your qi. Poorly, at that."

Jaha couldn't well answer with the way his mouth was being held open. 

"You did. There are burst blood vessels in your eyes," [Y/N] sneered as she used her thumb to pull down at the bottom of Jaha's eye. The man wanted to ask why it mattered. Before he could, though, something was poured into his mouth.

"Don't make a scene. Swallow it."

His mouth was held shut. Jaha breathed hard through his nose, clenched his teeth, glared fucking daggers. The woman wore an expression that suggested she might have been reading a particularly uninteresting field report. 

"Swallow," she repeated with an upward nod like it was only a matter of time before she got what she wanted. All Jaha's nerves seemed to come back online at once. He whined from behind closed lips.

It burned worse than Eastern alcohol on the way down. 

He understood then that his body had been on pause, and now everything was back online all at once. 

Feeling spread from his throat to his stomach and into his limbs. Now the threat of not freezing to death had passed, and every other pain sang to life in a horrible chorus.

He became aware that he was shivering– had he been so the entire time? Fatigue swept through him, worse than what he usually felt while training in his past life. His bones and teeth hurt. 

Jaha cursed as he sat himself up, coughing. His lungs took in stinging cold air but he couldn't even catch his breath. He watched as the woman walked back over to her knapsack and slipped a small bottle back into one of the many pockets. 

"What was that?" He wiped his chin. 

"You're overreacting. It was a warming vial."

Jaha's addled mind spun for a bit before he put meaning to the words. The little glass bottles parents gave their kids when playing in the snow. They'd place them in their pockets to keep their hands warm. He never questioned what they were filled with.

"You're not supposed to drink those, last I checked."

'Doesn't matter," [Y/N] shrugged, "You just did."

Being horizontal was suddenly very unappealing. Groaning, the man slid himself over to lean against the wall of the cave, far from the entrance. His mood was sour and just about everything that could hurt in his body did. He didn't typically mind pain much– but miscalculation stung more when he'd had to be rescued as a result.

"What about the others?" asked Jaha, dimly. 

"I told them to stay put."

"I hope we don't return to them frozen to death." He shifted his knee up and sucked in a pained breath. 

"Oh please," huffed [Y/N] at Jaha's bellyaching, "You aren't dead just yet."

The snow whirled outside without stopping. He felt almost like a stupid kid again. Playing out in the snow too long, getting scolded by his grandfather. The neighbourhood kids that'd stuff rocks into snowballs. Those bruises always took forever to stop aching.

Jaha watched in silence as [Y/N] built up a small fire. She took materials from the knapsack by the wall. It was one of the ones their crew had packed before setting out; she must have grabbed it before she came to find Jaha. 

"How do you even know about this place?" The man squinted, rubbing at his ribs.

"It might be your first time out here, but it isn't mine," replied the woman easily.

The fire, now lit, drew him in. Jaha shifted closer to be nearer, ignoring the way [Y/N] stopped to scoff. Even the sound of the wood popping under the heat felt good.

From a rock near the entrance, [Y/N] looked out at the storm, "We'll stay to wait out the worst of this. I doubt it'll last longer than the night," she paused for a moment, "And Master Jaha..."

Jaha groaned in acknowledgement. His eyes were closing.

"The next time you decide to face a natural disaster, be honest about your limits," her voice seemingly softened, but Jaha brushed it off as just him being tired and hearing things.

"I won't know them until I find them," mumbled the man, "And like you said, I'm not dead just yet."

"We don't happen to have some chicken noodle soup stuffed in that pack, do we?" groaned Jaha haplessly. Sometime between falling asleep and the sun setting, lying down had become appealing again. Sometime between lying down becoming appealing again and now, a ratty blanket had been placed underneath him.

"I've got another warming vial if you'd like," said [Y/N]. 

Jaha pursed his lips, sulking.

"Then stop complaining."

[Y/N] was still sitting where she had been when Jaha slipped out of consciousness, the only difference being now she was whittling something. Her hands moved slowly, but the tiny pile of wood shavings next to her suggested she'd been at it for some time. It was too small for Jaha to see from where he lay.

Next to him, the fire was still going, but growing weak. It left a stark desire for warmth in its embers. The woman had already informed him that there had only been enough materials for one in the pack. Once this was gone, he'd go back to devoting half of his thoughts to craving any sort of warmth.

"So you've been to this place before?" Jaha asked. Without waiting for an answer, he continued, "Did you mean the village near this place?"

[Y/N] hummed, along with a sigh, "Yes. It was part of my training growing up."

Training all the way out here while growing up? Suddenly, her attitude made sense to Jaha. After all, these mountains served as a place for outcasts to gather.

"This is the middle of nowhere," Jaha paused, "Do they have running water?

"I would hope so. There may be some rejects who forgo hygiene but I'd like to believe most are in the habit of bathing."

"A hot bath sounds good. Do you like baths?"

"Occasionally. Not for such juvenile purposes as relying on it to warm myself," she eyed Jaha in mock ridicule.

"Well, once we make it there, we can share one."

The small sound of scraping wood and the ever-present wind was all that could be heard for some time.

"You really don't feel cold?" Jaha said after a moment, turning his head slightly, "Not at all?"

"No," said [Y/N] to the blizzard, "Not at all."

The man blinked. The whirl behind [Y/N]'s silhouette seemed as if they were going to catch on her figure and swallow her. Like between this fluttering closure of his eyelids and the next, Jaha would find himself alone. He wondered why she had come. Responsibility as a teammate was the most sensible answer. But the martial masters didn't really rely on such routine ways of thinking. So why not just leave him to die in the snow? 

Nothing [Y/N] did was without some sort of contradiction, Jaha had realized.

"I don't believe you."

At this, the woman turned. They held each other's gaze for a moment. Jaha's chest panged with how much he wished her closer. If the situation were different, he'd say some nonsense and suggest so. That worked about half the time if his math was correct.

[Y/N] did make to move, though not towards Jaha. She placed down what she had in her hands and stood, slowly. 

"My subordinates would hardly hold me in their high graces if something like the cold could deter me from my goals."

Jaha wondered, was that a jab at him?

She worked at the neckline of her cloak for a moment. Jaha didn't understand what she was attempting to do until suddenly her cloak dropped to the ground and she stood in clothes unsuited for the temperature.

Jaha's heart jogged in his chest as if on instinct. His head still pounded, but he knew how it felt to touch that body and his palms itched. 

"What're you…"

"You're cold, aren't you?" She asked as she bent over to pull off her boots, "The fire's almost died out, after all."

Jaha kept quiet, tracing her movements with his eyes.

His mannerisms made her scoff, "Stop gawking. As if this is something I haven't shown you before."

As if there were anywhere else to look.

Thumbs hooked over the waistband, pulling her pants off. She pushed both it and her underwear down in one motion, before tossing them to the side carelessly. Then she stood there, watching Jaha watch her. All of her. Every piece. There was a mild amusement in her eyes.

Jaha stared directly at that form, but it was like trying to focus on an aftereffect. Everything was reflected through that hue. The hair that ghosted the base of her neck, the dip of her shoulders, her breasts, her tummy, the ever so slight flare of hips, the curve of the back of her legs. 

It was true, Jaha had seen her body before. But had always been denied the opportunity to take it in. Always so rough and fast and hard. Frantic. Now, there was quiet. Not calm, but something like a perversion of it. And [Y/N] looked, against the cragged rockface really, truly, exactly like a deity.

"Something you want to say?" [Y/N]'s eyes stayed locked onto Jaha's. At that, he couldn't hold it, and looked away, earning an amused scoff.

"You're a real petty piece of work, you know?" Jaha said tersely, mostly to distract himself from how he could feel his dick stirring. Even looking away, the thoughts flowed into his brain like sewage.

"Hmm?" Her lips quirked up into something that resembled a smirk, "Here I was hoping you'd be grateful."

Jaha scoffed quietly, observing as she approached him.

"I wonder," said Jaha. [Y/N] was kneeling in front of him before moving to straddle him, looking vaguely interested, but not really, "Will the others really be alright?"

"They'll figure something out," [Y/N] replied, "They can huddle for warmth if anything."

Warmth. Pressed up against a solid, beating thing. Images had washed over his mind in that instant. The woman was like a conduit for heat. It always began cold whenever they slept together and slid into something warmer.

He must have been staring because [Y/N] had a strange expression on her face.

"What?" asked she.

"No, it's nothing."

There was a slight pressure on his cheek. He felt soft, malleable. He realized [Y/N] had his face cupped in one hand, "Not getting ideas, are we, Master Jaha?"

He had been until this touch had stopped everything short.

"Not at all."

"Don't lie to me."

The promise of being done with this terrible feeling, even for a moment, was too strong. He knew he was going to lose this fight. 

"[Y/N]," he began. The only thing he could hear was his own harsh breathing.

"What?"

There had been words he wanted to say. Something to articulate. But all that he managed was, "M'cold."

"I know," there was a small pleasure in it, "That's why I'm here."

Jaha's eyes looked her up and down.

"What do you need?"

He felt like he was stuck underneath a frozen lake. Losing without putting up a fight. She wouldn't tell anyone, would she? 

"You."

The hand holding Jaha's face dropped away, "But I can't keep you warm for long." 

He understood what was going on. That he was being baited. But if he did as he was told and laid a hand on the bare body before him now…

…he could slip his hands to lay on either side of [Y/N]'s neck. He might slide them lower then, down her shoulders, to her elbows. Press at her ribcage, and move back up. Jaha may squeeze at that chest.

And yet...

[Y/N] raised her eyebrows. A small tilt of her head, "No? You're getting cold feet now?"

"I can't tell if this is what you want," Jaha managed to reply, his mouth fuzzy, “My head… kind of hurts."

"Then you don't have to think. Isn't that what you've always done, anyway?"

Heedless instances and red flashes and split-second decisions. Impulse and action were what made him up. Yeah, it was what he had always done. 

"Go on. Lead with your hands," said she, "Lean towards what you think will warm you up."

Jaha reached out. It felt like it took years for the gap between their bodies to end in a small point of contact. Just the flat of Jaha's hand on the base of [Y/N]'s neck. Thumb at the corner of her jaw. 

As if it were the easiest thing in the world, the woman shifted in Jaha's lap. So little work for so much reward. The pressure of her body was proof that sensations other than cold existed. Bare legs on either side of his hips, [Y/N] sat for a spell, watching. That hand was still resting on his neck. She narrowed her eyes and nudged it.

"Is this all you want to touch, Master Jaha?"

His cheeks burned, though he didn't know why. They'd done this before, and every time Jaha was always overeager. 

"I've already given you permission," said [Y/N] complacently, "Do whatever you want to me," She grabbed Jaha's hand and brought it to squeeze her breast, "After all, you're a stupid dog. You can't help yourself."

His dick jumped. More bait, he thought dully, but pride was much harder to touch than [Y/N]'s skin. And shame couldn't be all that bad if it set his nerves alight like this. Jaha kissed the last bit of his senses away. 

It wasn't all that difficult afterwards to pull her closer. He panted against that tongue and whimpered at the bites on his lips. Hands rested on his shoulders, bunching in the fur of his collar. With nothing of his own to hang on to, Jaha held tight to the skin on the back of [Y/N]'s upper arm, the base of her spine, her hips. His hands felt clumsy, without purchase.

"Tell me what you're thinking."

[Y/N]'s hand in his hair tightened into a fist and settled Jaha's head back against the wall. He was trying to breathe through his nose so that the air wouldn't feel as cold.

"I– I–" Fuck. His mind was slipping into those soft, easy places. He wanted the simple shame badly. Sit. Stay. Roll over. 

"I need you to tell me I'm a good boy."

It should be something admitted through clenched teeth, a bitten-off confession wrenched from him by force. But Jaha knew how good it could feel, and he also knew [Y/N]'s bored eyes would grow that much sharper at how ineptly it tumbled from his tongue.

Fingers were at his neck. They rested just below his jawline and sprouted a fire there, like everywhere else that [Y/N] touched. Those hands weren't hot, or even warm, so there must really be something wrong with Jaha's head. A thumb trailed up to press into the hollow beneath his bottom lip while the other fingers curled beneath his chin. Jaha's mouth hung open in small breaths.

"And are you?"

"Yeah."

[Y/N] cupped him through his pants, "You are? You're not a mutt with nothing in his brain but when he can next get his dick wet?" 

He winced but managed to hold their eye contact. He wanted to earn this, "No— I'll be your good boy. Really good for you. Please."

"Haha," [Y/N] sat back, "Haha! Is there anything you won't do? Would you splay your stomach for me?"

Jaha nodded until he was sure he'd pulled something in his neck. 

"Show me just how good you can be," breathed the woman. She released her hold on Jaha and sat back, "Get yourself off."

If there was still such a thing as shame in this little world they'd trapped themselves in, then maybe Jaha would have hesitated before fumbling out of his pants. 

[Y/N] seemed to remember something, and only deigned to move from her position in the man's lap to root through the knapsack again. She threw a small vial at Jaha before sitting right back down.

Regular oil. [Y/N] had used it to wet the tinder for the fire earlier. 

He unfastened his pants and slid them down his thighs just enough to free his dick. He then tipped the oil into his palm and started to stroke himself.

It hurt, his hands shook, but the friction felt good. The impulse to shutter his eyes nearly won out–but he wanted to be seen. To perform well and do as he was told bore the risk of reward. If the woman was feeling generous. 

There was a chance Jaha would be delegated to finishing in his own hand with nothing so much as another touch from [Y/N]. Just a bored look and a mildly amused, pitying expression; Jaha had seen it before. It didn't matter, not really. There was heat in being the subject of such strict attention.

"Is this how you treat yourself when you think of me?"

"Yes," Jaha was distantly surprised at how desperate his voice sounded. 

"Go on, keep talking. You wouldn't want me to lose interest."

"I think of our fights, the way you hit me."

"A dog who likes being disciplined."

"It's so hard to find someone who's able to keep up," Jaha twisted his wrist. He swore he saw real contempt pass over [Y/N]'s features, "You fight me like you really– hah –want to kill me.

"But I also," Jaha swallowed, "I really like when I can throw you off balance. And you give me that look like you're impressed with me."

"How honest."

"Ha… a nice break from all the treachery at Gangho, right?"

"Yes, but a mind as empty as yours can't contain shame. A mindless, pretty, obedient boy."

Jaha's hand stuttered for a moment on the upstroke. He pressed a thumb into the head of his cock to keep from coming right then.

"Maybe I'll reward you," the woman hummed for a moment. Her eyes raked over Jaha's body. He was the one with all his clothes on, but he felt seen through. 

His wrist was swatted away as the woman took Jaha's cock into her own hand. And unlike Jaha, she set a much faster pace. 

He didn't know how often they'd fucked. There were too many instances of a fight becoming something more, or an ill-advised dare between them, to count it properly. Still, they hadn't been at this all that long. And yet [Y/N] knew exactly what touches shook Jaha out of his mind with pleasure. His brain went white like the storm outside.

"Stay," instructed she. Jaha's hands bunched in the blanket underneath him. 

He had to be good. He had to be good because if he wasn't, then [Y/N] would stop, leave him here. No use for a defunct weapon, a disobedient dog. He felt like he could cry. The brief brush of a nail against the underside of his cock, the way the heel of the woman's hand pressed into the head.

"God, [Y/N], Please, please, please–"

The touch vanished. Jaha buckled forward with a strangled sound. His hands flew to [Y/N]'s shoulders, his head rested against her neck. His shaking arms wrapped around her. His chest heaved. 

"You can show discipline when you want to," a pitying hand carded through the hair at the nape of his neck, "Or is it only just for me?"

Yes, for you. Jaha wanted to say. No one else has ever been able to do this to me. I'm stuck with you.

"Please," Jaha swallowed, "Please."

"I don't know what you're begging for," said [Y/N], nonchalantly, "Tell me what you want, dog."

"I want to be inside you. Where it's warm."

"I've already given you my whole body. You still want more?"

He didn't know how he'd ever stop wanting more.

"Yes."

"Hm. And you'll be good?"

"Yeah. Promise."

[Y/N] pushed him back. With efficiency, she splayed herself out on the blanket, leaving Jaha to do his best to situate himself. The woman waited as Jaha stumbled out of his pants. Then he shifted until he was on top of her. His cloak covered most of their bodies. It gave the whole thing a bit of modesty, and even though there was no one but them, Jaha didn't want anyone to see how she let herself be touched by him.

He brought a shaking hand down [Y/N]'s stomach, down to between her legs. 

"You're wet," Jaha realized happily. 

"Yeah," [Y/N]'s eyes lidded, "And I can see your tail wagging."

Jaha had wanted to be asked, to be guided through, but he didn't need to be asked twice. He lifted up [Y/N]'s hips to position himself. He spread her legs apart, and the woman just allowed him to, limp and expectant. Jaha let one leg rest just over his shoulder. 

And then he couldn't wait anymore. He pushed himself inside with a sigh. Perfect and tight and warm. 

"Not just anyone would do this for you, you know," said [Y/N] from under him. 

"I know," Jaha nodded as he began to move. Nothing, not the fire, or the draught or anything had felt as good as this. 

He dipped his head and kissed the woman's neck. As he sped up it became sloppier until he was panting open-mouthed against the skin. There was so much sensation after hours of nothing. [Y/N] safe underneath him and Jaha safe in her hands. Everything else seemed small in the light of these facts. Being of service. Doing what he was told.

"How does it feel?" asked [Y/N]. As tight as Jaha was holding her, she didn't cling back. It wasn't uncommon to spot this detached look in her eyes, though Jaha never knew exactly what to do with it. 

He settled for being earnest. It pushed its way past what little else was in his mind, "So good, thank you–"

There was a pressure building near the base of his spine, his stomach. Jaha was well aware he was close. But if he finished now, then she would move away again. He'd be without anything to grasp. And then what? Worse, getting himself off first felt selfish. He should take care of [Y/N] first, shouldn't he?

It must have shown on his face because [Y/N] spoke. 

"Slow down."

Jaha whined. He wanted to. Only it was impossible, it had to be. But that's what he'd been told. Commanded. Somehow, his hips slowed and stopped. 

A hand came to rest at his jaw. [Y/N] looked so composed, and Jaha felt ruined. But the woman's eyes were so pretty. They narrowed in a small laugh. 

"Good boy, Jaha."

His heart skipped. His hips moved on their own. 

"Sorry–"

"Oh, you do like it. No one calls you that anymore, do they?" He was being teased, but there seemed to be something more behind the words. Like she was happy to have this knowledge. And Jaha knew, somehow, that she'd hold it safe. 

"Do you miss it?" A thumb over his cheek, "Does it make you feel whole again?"

"Yes," Everything felt raw and real. His heart was flayed and pumping hot blood. He wanted to move, needed to move.

[Y/N] did so first. She rolled her hips down and before long Jaha was meeting her. They found a rhythm easier than usual. The usual was claws and teeth and grasping onto whatever they could. Here, Jaha had given up the reins. Heat swelled up between them. 

It was so soft and so warm. Jaha drove himself over and over and over into that heat, watching the way the skin of the woman's stomach buckled and moved.

He looked up, perhaps meaning to say something, but was distracted by the look he found on [Y/N]'s face. How empty it appeared at that moment. Their eyes met, but the woman only blinked.

Jaha wanted to bury himself inside. Would that draw out a reaction? Not just fucking, or fighting, but to live underneath that skin. There, he'd never be cold again, he was sure. How could he be, with someone to guide him from the storm?

Small hands went to grab the back of Jaha's arm, and that was all the warning he received before [Y/N] tightened around him. The minute movements in her expression, the clenching of her jaw, the too-fast blink of her eyelids. Jaha watched it all. The woman looked, for the first time since she had stripped herself, vulnerable. 

He should stop. Jaha knew well how [Y/N] must feel right now, oversensitive and spent. But there it was; the urge to gorge himself on it. [Y/N]'s ankle behind his back pulled him closer. If he didn't stop at this moment, he knew he was not going to be able to. 

"I–"

"Go on."

He thought he heard a sob, and then realized it must have been his own voice. A shudder wracked his body as he came–but shuddering from something other than cold felt so good. 

It hurt dully when he collapsed to the side. The blanket really was not very thick at all. As if on impulse, he gathered her up in his arms and pressed her bare body close. Jaha worried for a moment that it was going to earn him a smack, but it was only the cloak being pulled over both of them. The sounds of the blizzard filtered back to the forefront. Then there was oblivion inside, as there was outside.

The other team members were fine, only nearly cried when they saw the two of them return safe and sound. Whatever paperwork it would have been for [Y/N] if a few of them died under her watch, it would've probably been leagues worse if she and Jaha had died instead.

The village, when they finally reached it, was more elaborate than Jaha had expected. They had only lost half a day to travel, and with a clear weather report for the next few days, they should be able to make it on time.

That night, Jaha knocked on the door to [Y/N]'s suite. A maid opened it. Her forearms were damp and she had a wood bucket in her hand. She dismissed herself with a bow.

"So," Jaha said, taking a seat on the bed, "About that bath offer."

[Y/N] didn't look up. She was in front of the bathroom sink, undressing. Jaha walked up behind her and untucked her shirt. 

"It was you who offered if I recall correctly," [Y/N] said to the mirror.

"Yeah, but your bathroom's bigger. Perks of being a little more renowned than me."

"A little?"

The shirt fell to the tiled floor. [Y/N] turned to face him. Around her neck, she wore a necklace.

"Is this new?" He touched it with one hand, "I've never seen you wear it before."

It was long and wooden. He could see the lines of precise carvings on it. 

"Yeah," [Y/N] brought it to her lips, "Want to hear it?"

The sound was faint, high-pitched. It was made to echo off trees and call well-trained pups back home.

A dog whistle.

© yeri (@yerrenica) ⬦ do not repost, copy, translate, nothing. huhu, I've been gone for too long again, my baadd..... I have to posture here, though, that you can use oil (olive/canola/etc) as a way to wet tinder for fire. and if you didn't know, olive oil was historically used as lube. It's important to me to tell you that I didn't bs that.

#return of the crazy demon #return of the mad demon #jaha lee #webtoon #yi zaha #lee jaha #returnofthemaddemon #returnofthecrazydemon #광마회귀 #jahalee #reader x jaha #jaha x reader #reader fic #reader x character #female reader #jaha lee x reader

[youcouldmakealife]

LBTE: Jared (153-154)

The Blanket War.

If you'd like to follow along, the series page is here.

153. Wage(r)s of War

If Jared knew the blanket was going to turn into a whole thing, he probably would not have stolen it.

Scratch probably: Jared definitely wouldn’t have stolen it. Even though it wasn’t really stealing, since it was originally his, and he never told his parents they could give it away to someone else. That’s not theft, that’s like — rightful ownership. Jared is the rightful owner of the blanket.

But still.

Jared’s saying this when it’s just a thing and not even a Thing yet.

Especially since the Canucks put two and two together, and are now giving Jared copious amounts of shit for losing his blanket to an Oiler not once but twice.

“As if you had nothing to do with us losing those games,” Jared says.

In hindsight, he probably should not have said that to his goaltender, but he still thinks volunteering him for the children’s hospital Halloween trip is unfair.

I applauded Jared’s survival instinct last time, but it’s terrible and Jared’s lucky his penance is ‘cheer up children’ and not ‘be murdered by goaltender’, frankly.

“I know,” Jared says, and irritably adjusts his eye patch. He’s supposed to be colouring, but he can’t see properly with it on, and he keeps colouring outside the lines just a bit, which is infuriating. He can’t take it off, though, because the one time he did Gabe said he looked like a hipster French stereotype, and when Gabe insults you it’s hard not to take it to heart.

I wrote this after having personally experienced eye patch-hood post surgery the first. Definitely fucks with your field of vision and your depth perception, among other things. The cool thing is it makes you look like a pirate, though!

Jared knew he shouldn’t have listened to Bryce about the striped shirt being pirate-y.

Striped shirts are very dependent on accessorizing. Eye patch? Pirate. Beret? Old school Parisian stereotype.

Bryce brought out the sling for the hospital, over a lazy cowboy costume made entirely out of shit in Bryce’s closet from his Flames days. He hasn’t strictly needed to wear it for awhile, but the kids all gravitate to Bryce, asking about it. The third time a child under the age of six solemnly told Bryce to get better soon Jared had to excuse himself and find Dmitry until he was comfortably annoyed again.

Jared carefully talking around things so he doesn’t use the word ‘adorable’. And this is a smart AF move by Bryce, who understands that kids will want to talk to someone they perceive as similar to them in that way. He truly does love kids, and he gets them too. (Don’t say it, Jared.)

“Look, J,” Bryce says delightedly. “The kids all signed my sling.”

His sling is an absolute mess of Sharpie. Though frankly the signatures of children aren’t significantly worse than the signatures of hockey players, so it’s no worse than some casts that got signed today.

Jared grunts.

Adorable.

“Are you still mad about the stripes?” Bryce says.

Jared grunts again.

“I like your moustache,” Bryce says.

Two kids, both named Logan, were very insistent that pirates had to have moustaches, and he couldn’t think of a counterpoint, so now he has a moustache.

Jared, you fool, don't listen to the Logans, that's not pirates. A skinny pencil moustache stereotypically belongs to…

Now he looks like a dude who had a kid scribble all over his face instead of a French hipster, at least. He takes the eye patch off.

“Bonjour, Mathématiques,” Gabe says as he comes up behind them. “Très belle moustache.”

THE FRENCH!!!

Also shoutout to Gabe for translating Jared’s nickname for the occasion.

And however much it sucks for him, he knows it’s way worse for Bryce. He’ll never say it aloud, but he was kind of grateful when Gavin got injured and flew home halfway through the trip, because he came over to their place during games and kept Bryce company.

Jared appreciates Gavin’s sacrifice. Gavin not so much.

That had been Elaine’s job, but Jared’s pretty sure she handed over the duty to Gavin without an ounce of regret. Even she has limits. At least, Jared assumes she does? He’s never seen her reach them, but they have to exist.

Bryce’s DWI. That was her limit. She had never been angrier at Bryce than that day, and never will be again.

“Wait, is that Oilers game tape?” Bryce asks.

“If we lose this game Julius is going to keep holding my blanket hostage,” Jared says. “So we can’t lose.”

Bryce is a little concerned about his husband’s sanity right now.

“Babe,” Bryce says. “It’s not your blanket anymore, you know that, right? He’s not holding it hostage, he just has like, custody of it. It’s a bet blanket now.”

“It’s my bet blanket,” Jared says. “That I’m going to win. And refuse to give back, even if we lose.”

Bryce gives him an almost comically disappointed look. “That’s not how bets work, J.”

You can’t break the terms of the bet. That’s low. Bryce is judging you.

“It’s a bet blanket now,” Bryce says gently.

“I know it is,” Jared mutters. He would give it back if the Canucks lost. Probably. The important thing is to never lose to the Oilers again so that it isn’t relevant.

“Is this a weird thing you have to do by yourself?” Bryce asks. “Or can I watch the Oilers in the dark too?”

Bryce is truly such a great guy. How did Jared get so lucky.

“You should see who’s at the door,” Bryce says, in the worst casual voice ever.

“If you got me a singing valentine or some shit—“ Jared says. It’s nowhere near Valentine’s, but that’s hardly something that would stop Bryce.

Fair.

“Let me in!” comes from the hall, and Jared’s blood goes cold.

“Why is there a demon at our door?” Jared hisses.

Bryce has the audacity to roll his eyes and get up himself.

Do demons have to be invited in or is that just vampires?

“Yeah, a ninety minute flight is like, a crazy long trip,” Erin says, shoving a bag off one of the stools around the island in their kitchen before sitting down. Jared thinks that might be the first time someone’s sat there since the day they moved in. The couch is for eating when they’re not hosting, and they don’t really host — well, ever. Unless Gavin counts, but Jared has doubts. And Elaine’s Elaine.

“Oh sick, I was looking for that everywhere,” Bryce says.

They do often drink coffee at the island, but that’s a leaning on the counter sort of situation. The stools aren't actually all that comfortable, and rather than, oh, get other ones, they just sort of...avoid them.

Jared squints at her. “You’re just in Vancouver because Julius is.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Erin says. “And I should be ashamed of myself, considering the incredible welcome I’m receiving from you.”

Erin is experiencing such hospitality.

Bryce hipchecks his way past Jared to give Erin another hug. “Jared’s just jet lagged and grumpy,” he says. “I’m really happy you’re here.”

But unironically, in the case of Bryce. This is why he’s her favourite brother.

Jared will not quit glaring, but he does take a seat, after displacing a sweater that has probably been there since last spring.

“Hey, I was looking for that too,” Bryce says delightedly.

Bryce gets to see Erin AND recovers objects he thought were lost forever? Today’s so great.

“Yes please,” Erin says. “You’re going to give me a complex if you keep looking at me like that, Jared.”

“Good,” Jared says, but hauls her in for a one-armed hug, releasing her before Bryce turns away from the fridge. The last thing Jared wants to do is give him the impression that inviting Erin to visit is acceptable behaviour.

Yeah, can’t show weakness by…letting your husband see you hug your sister?

“Oh man,” Erin says, somehow reading Jared’s mind, which he hates that she can still do. “Do you think I can meet Stephen while I’m here?”

“No,” Jared says flatly. He will do everything in his power to prevent that from happening. He fears he’ll learn firsthand how it feels to be a middle child if he does.

That’s exactly what Erin’s hoping for.

“I can ask Gabe if they’re free after the game tomorrow,” Bryce says, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

Jared digs his fingers into Bryce’s knee under the table.

“I’m asking,” Bryce says, not even bothering to look injured.

It’s cute that you think you can stop him.

She’s presumably staying with Julius tonight, but the Oilers have to be flying out right after the game tomorrow, since they’ve got a matinee against the Golden Seals on Sunday. He’s unsure Bryce is willing to give up his sulking room before he returns to game shape. Or possibly ever. He likes a good sulk. Jared doesn’t even think he’s sulking in there all the time, has pivoted to watching shitty TV without Jared’s judgment and facetiming Maia. At least Jared hopes that’s what the ‘Bryce talking to a baby’ voice is about.

That is precisely what Bryce is using the sulking room for now. Bad TV and video chats. Also naps sometimes.

“Elaine insisted I stay with her,” Erin says. “We’re having a girl’s day on Sunday, then she’s taking me to the airport.”

Of course Elaine did. Of course they are.

Elaine always wanted a daughter too, she is as thrilled to spoil Erin as Bryce is.

Bryce looks up from his phone. “Can I come for girl’s day?”

“Duh,” Erin says.

“Sick,” Bryce says.

“I don’t want to come for girl’s day,” Jared says. “For the record.”

“We know,” Bryce says, over Erin’s snort.

Nobody even invited you.

154. The Spoils

“Halla,” Jared says. “We meet again.”

I do have some series where in media res isn’t out of place, but Jared isn’t one of them, so this is a bit of a shake up. I just really wanted a tight focus mano-a-mano standoff that is entirely undermined by the fact it’s over a fucking blanket.

“You better have brought the blanket,” Jared says.

“I did,” Julius says. “It made for very comfortable naps on the plane. It is a good blanket.”

“Your next plane nap is going to suck,” Jared says.

“Maybe,” Julius says. “Or maybe it will be a victory nap.”

“That’s all you’ve got?” Jared says. “Victory nap?”

“Want to talk trash in Finnish instead?” Julius asks.

First point goes to Halla.

“Are you guys almost done with that trash talking?” Rogers asks. “You’re kind of blocking the locker room.”

“Shit, sorry,” Jared says, and he and Julius scoot out of the way to let Rogers through.

Also it starting with a tight focus on them facing off means I can introduce details later, like the fact they’re standing right in front of the visitors room, blocking everybody.

“Nice to see you, Jared,” Rogers says.

“Yeah, you too, Darryl,” Jared says, accepting the shoulder clap from Rogers, the loose hug from Morris as he follows Rogers into the locker room.

Love you Roge, love you Benny.

“I’m gonna—“ Jared says, pausing while yet another Oiler nudges past them into the room.

How dare everyone undermine the dignity of this blanket fight by using the visitors room for its intended purpose.

“I have practice. Enjoy losing tonight.”

“No one enjoys losing,” Julius says.

“Obviously,” Jared says. “It’s a saying. It’s like—“

Julius blinks at him.

“It’s just a thing you say,” Jared says. “Precisely because nobody enjoys losing.”

Julius continues to blink at him.

“Are you fucking with me?” Jared asks.

I love when Julius uses his natural poker face for evil.

“I told Coach your sister is in town,” Gabe says when Jared gets onto the ice, surprised he didn’t get yelled at for showing up to practice ten minutes late. Coach is fine if you run late, but only if you let him know in advance, and Jared’s side-trip was due to a slightly deranged whim when he saw Oilers leaving the ice after their own practice.

Slightly?

Also look at Gabe, making excuses for Jared (not lying though! He said only facts. Gabe draws the line at lying in most situations.)

“Had a meeting with some Oilers,” Jared says.

“You know, anyone else I’d assume that was a euphemism for catching up with old friends,” Gabe says. “But not you.”

“Thank you,” Jared says.

“It wasn’t a compliment,” Gabe says after a moment.

Jared is aware. Still thankful, though.

Better to be known as ridiculous than as friendly, says Jared. Am I right?

(Julius is with him.)

“Julius,” Jared calls.

Julius pretends not to hear him.

I love that Jared has stooped to ‘pay attention to me!’.

No Erin. Jared guesses she doesn’t need to swarm the glass to see him, but he was curious what jersey she’d be wearing. Presumably Oilers, but Jared wouldn’t put it past her to wear a Matheson Oilers jersey to piss both him and Julius off.

I also love that Jared knows his sister just as well as she knows him. That is exactly what she’s wearing. Nobody knows who she's cheering for.

“I’m busy,” Julius says. “We already talked trash. Now I am warming up.”

Jared sputters. “I’m not done.”

Julius starts skating away. Backwards, to be extra annoying.

“I’m not done, Julius!” Jared says.

Julius waves goodbye, then turns around and skates over to the Julius Halla Fan Club by the net, grabbing a puck and flipping it to a kid holding a sign.

Another point to Halla.

Jared eyes the red line.

“Don’t do it, Math,” Gabe says, suddenly hovering at his shoulder, like he sensed trouble.

“Ugh,” Jared says, and goes to practice shooting until he isn’t so tempted to hip check Julius right into the Oilers bench.

Point to Markson.

“You’re welcome for the stupid blanket,” Ridley says when when Jared reaches him in the goalie appreciation line.

AKA the ‘hug your goalie line’.

Jared receives a text from Julius letting him know that Erin will be facilitating the blanket hand off, since the Oilers are headed straight to the airport. He’d prefer if it came directly from Julius, but post-game travel nights are what they are — the absolute worst, especially after losses — and that’s before you include the wrinkle of his girlfriend being in town. Jared isn’t petty enough to demand Julius carve out some of his very limited remaining time in Vancouver for the hand off. He probably would be, honestly, except he still remembers how hard it was for him and Bryce to work around competing hockey schedules.

Point for Matheson, but I refuse to indicate which.

“Sting a little to hand it over?” Jared asks smugly, taking the blanket from her. He squints at her outfit: no Canucks jersey, but no Oilers jersey either. A sweater Jared vaguely recognises as one Bryce got her for Christmas a few years back. Bryce clearly recognises it too — he looks pleased.

Erin’s no longer repping either side. Only Bryce’s.

“Dad owes me a dinner of my choice,” Erin says.

“Dad owes — of course he does,” Jared says.

“Some people don’t put their family first,” Erin says. “But I do, Jared. I do.”

“How would Julius feel if he knew you were betting against him?” Jared asks.

“He’s eaten dad’s food before,” Erin says with a shrug. “And I promised a cut of the spoils, obviously. I’m cashing in on a Battle of Alberta night. Julius wants salmon.”

Julius figures if he loses the game, he may as well get a good homecooked meal out of it.

“He knows, then,” Jared says.

Of course she didn’t accidentally give Jared leverage. She would never make such a rookie mistake.

Never underestimate the master.

“Is that Stephen?” Erin says, sitting straighter. “That’s Gabe, so that’s definitely Stephen.”

She has been waiting for this moment since the first time Jared referred to him as ‘the worst person I have ever met’ in a complimentary tone.

She stands up, smoothing her sweater out like she doesn’t want to appear wrinkled in Stephen’s presence. Which is the right call, honestly. Stephen is a very judgmental person.

She hopes to collaborate with Stephen in being mean to Jared, and first impressions are very important.

“Littlest Matheson,” Stephen says, as he arrives at the table. “We finally meet.”

“Jared’s tormentor,” Erin says. “I’ve heard so many terrible things about you.”

Stephen holds his arms out, and Erin walks right into them.

“Neither of you are huggers!” Jared says. “Like, at all!”

They’ll make an exception for co-conspirators.

He tries to make longsuffering eye contact with Gabe, but Gabe just grins back at him.

Stephen has also been waiting for this moment. Gabe is enjoying his enthusiasm.

“It’s like having another sister,” Stephen says over Erin’s head. “But not terrible because she’s not mine.”

He understands Gabe’s affection for his sisters a little better. Not WELL, but better.

Jared is going to meet Stephen’s sisters, and he is going to befriend them for the sole purpose of gaining blackmail material about Stephen, of which he’s sure there is plenty, and then Stephen will regret this day.

Jared keeping things in perspective while he silently plots his revenge.

But right now Jared appears to be the only one regretting this day. Everybody else appears to be having a great time.

I am included in everybody else.

“Stop hugging each other!” Jared says, then, “No, don’t — this is not a group hug moment, Erin! Stephen! Get off of me!”

The collaboration begins.

“Delete that footage,” Jared says, then, “Seriously, Bryce?”

“I’m just sending it to my mom,” Bryce protests.

So, reminder that this video makes it to social media, and that the ‘seriously, Bryce?’ is used as supporting evidence that Bryce and Jared are married, because Jared is using a 'you are exasperating me' voice that is not exactly bros.

Elaine appreciates the video very much.

“Everybody but Bryce, delete it,” Jared says, though he doesn’t have much hope he’ll be obeyed, and even less hope it won’t end up online somewhere. He’s sure that’s exactly the sort of thing the Canucks social media team would love to get their hands on. He’s sure that the more undignified he looks, the more they’d want it. And he suspects he looked extremely undignified.

Every single one of Jared’s assumptions is correct. Especially the last one.

Erin posts a few pictures that end up on the internet when she gets home — or, Jared guesses, the wider internet, not just Erin’s followers on Instagram.

Considering Erin is dating the Oilers star forward, sister of his former liney, and 'practically sister' of the Canucks star forward, naturally she has plenty of followers from the hockey world. And naturally people enjoy pictures of Jared looking like he’s suffering greatly while getting hugged by his sister and someone many misidentify as Julius.

“I don’t know who she was cheering for, but she bet on the Canucks,” Jared says, then internally winces, because with the way the internet twists everything, that’ll turn into some ‘Erin Matheson is a disloyal girlfriend’ storyline. Jared hates twitter. And crap, add a possible ‘player’s girlfriend is betting on hockey games!’, now that Jared’s thinking about it.

“Just a bet she had with my dad,” he adds hastily. If dad gets some ‘Don Matheson is a disloyal dad’ he deserves it.

Good on Jared catching that in time, because yeah, ‘disloyal girlfriend’ definitely would have been the takeaway. And disloyal dad is indeed deserved. Jared doesn’t remember his dad cheering for the Oilers when he was one.

Jared’s stupid interview gets a ton of likes, and he doesn’t even know why.

The blanket bet is a great storyline. They will both regret that.

Someone always tells him when something important happens, like the Erin and Bryce thing, and the Erin and Julius thing, and — Erin seems to be the common denominator in a lot of these.

Jared’s ignorance of his own beauty extending to all Mathesons.

Erin continues to wreak havoc by posting the video of Jared being attacked by her and Stephen the next day. Jared doesn’t know if she got it from Bryce, or Elaine, or one of the other Canucks is a traitor, but of course that gets a ton of likes too, because people on the internet also enjoy when Jared’s dignity is wounded, apparently.

It truly is enjoyable to watch Jared’s dignity suffer, can't blame 'em at all.

People also seem to think Stephen is Julius, even though he looks absolutely nothing like him, beyond also being blond and around the same height. Different build, different haircut, different everything. Also he literally says Stephen’s name in the video. Jared is so tired.

The internet has unfortunately made it quite evident just how many people go around life misinterpreting everything they see.

The sulking room is already occupied when Jared goes to use it. Bryce looks up from his phone when, expression suspiciously happy for the locale.

As I said earlier, it is now also used for watching bad TV, getting his fill of Maia (and Ashley), and naps.

“Say hi to Maia?” Bryce says, which explains everything, and Jared says some things to Maia that she surely doesn’t understand, like how big she’s gotten — it is insane how fast babies grow — and how she’s shaping up to be a Chaz mini-me, because it’s uncanny. He feels absurd the whole time, even though neither Bryce nor Ash laugh at him, though they’re both doing the thin lipped thing like they want to, but they recognise it will hurt his remaining pride.

Jared is using a baby voice. Both Bryce and Ashley know better than to alert him of that fact.

“You’re not sulking,” Jared says.

“No,” Bryce says. “Maia.”

It is extremely hard to sulk when paying attention to Maia, actually. Jared temporarily forgot why he came in the first place.

Babies are great like that.

“But this is the sulking room,” Jared says.

“Did you need to sulk?” Bryce asks.

“Yes, actually,” Jared says.

Mom says it’s my turn with the sulking room.

“I swear I didn’t give it to her,” Bryce says.

He doesn’t need to tell Jared that. Not because Jared trusts him implicitly or anything — Erin is very good at manipulating Bryce into doing what she wants — but because he’s realised that Bryce was sitting at a completely different angle than the video was taken from. It was either Stevie or Dmitry. Jared suspects the latter for obvious reasons.

Why do you doubt Dmitry like this? What has he ever done to deserve this?

(Yes it was Dmitry.)

“I know what’ll make you feel better,” Bryce says, then heads out of the room, returning after a minute carrying the blanket under his arm.

And he is correct.

“You’re ridiculous,” Jared says, then, “Come nap with me,” and the least sulky nap ever to happen in the sulking room is officially underway.

Julius was right: it is an excellent blanket for victory naps.

The spoils of victory.

#liveblogging the end

[rose-pearls]

Matchmaking pool game

Summary: at your friends birthday you see the guy with who she spent the best night of her life, while trying to get them back together you meet a pilot named Rooster.

Your friend had decided to celebrate her birthday at the Hard Deck even after most of you groaned at the thought of the bar filled with cocky pilots, but she used her puppy dog eyes and now you all found yourselves at the bar. 

“Tonight, we are letting lose ladies.”, a few of us snort at her claim and she shoots us a glare. The last time she had said we needed to let loose she had ended up in bed with a pilot that she never saw again with a hangover to kill, thinking of it maybe that’s why she wanted to come back.

A few shots where brought, and you took the time to look around and find a group of pilots at the pool table who seemed to be quite the rowdy group judging by the loud laughter. 

“So, to 28, nearly 30 but not just yet.”, after cheering and taking each a shot the group started chattering about work and the next trip, we were thinking of going to. 

“Oh god, hide me.”, the birthday girl exclaimed, and we all looked at her confused as she tried to slide down on her chair.

“What is it?”, you whispered at her trying to look discreetly around but not seeing anything or anyone suspicious that maybe looked like one of her exes.

“There is the pilot I slept with last time.”, the whole group perked up and started looking around but as you looked at the group behind you see a small blond with glasses looking like a dear caught in headlights. 

“Is it that blond with glasses?”, you whispered at her, and she looked surprised before nodding quickly and a blush came on her cheeks.

“Looks cute.”, she chuckles softly at that and there is still a blush on her cheeks.

“He looks sweet, but his colleagues are also quite the sight.”, we all roll our eyes at our friends remark who starts shamelessly looking at the pilots.

“Was the best sex I have ever had.”, most of our friends spit their drinks at her words while she lets out a dreamy sigh, looking like she was remembering the night that it happened.

“It’s always the innocent ones.”, your friends snort at your remark and you just shake your head in false disbelief.

“Well, the best sex of your life is here, go get him tiger.”, the birthday girl looks at you like you just told her to kill the man while the other’s start to agree.

“Are you mad? He has no interest in it.”, you roll your eyes at that and sigh loudly.

“And how do you know that?”, she starts to stutter, and you send her a winning smile.

“Exactly! So let loose and go for it.”, she seems anxious, and you start to feel bad to force her, but she has been talking about this man for the last two months and you were tired of it.

“I’ll do it.”, the rest of the group cheers but you know that there is a catch, there always is.

“If you come with me. The pilot with the moustache has been looking a lot towards here since you turned to look at them.”, she is smiling like a cat that got the cream, because she knows that you would never go there but tonight was about letting lose and finally getting her with that man so that you had some peace. 

You take the last shot and as you drop it to the table you look at her with a smirk.

“Let’s do it.”, she stutters before you take of your jacket that you had kept on and take two beers in your hand giving her one as she tumbles from her chair in shock.

You link your arms, and she seems nervous, so you try your best to reassure her as you go there.

“We will just ask when the pool table is free and then see what happens next.”, she lets out a sigh before nodding confidently and nearly dragging you there. The first person to see you is a blond man with green eyes who has a far to big smirk for your liking.

“Well, hello, how can we help you two lovely ladies?”, he was laying the charm thick, and you had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. 

“We were wondering when the pool table was free. We would like to play with our group of friends.”, your friend quickly answered, also looking at him with a bored gaze.

“We are nearly done with our game, but you could always join us.”, a new voice makes you turn your head, and you see the pilot your friend was talking about and why did he have to be so good-looking, he had a kind smile on his face, but a flirty look could be seen in his gaze.

You knew your friend would take the opportunity to say no and to escape the situation, but you adjusted your grip on her arm and smiled at him.

“Sure, why not? But be ready this one is amazing at pool.”, a smirk forms on his face and he nods thoughtfully before coming closer.

“I’ll take the challenge if you are my partner.”, he was smooth that was sure, and you felt your stomach doing loops. She better be thankful that you were doing this.

“Sure, but then I get to choose her partner.”, your friend looks at you alarmed seemingly knowing what you were going to suggest.

“What is your name?”, you asked to the blond with glasses, and he looked stunned before stuttering.

“Bob.”, you give him a smile before turning back towards the curly haired pilot who was smirking.

“I choose Bob as her partner.”

“Let’s do this then, can we get your names before?”, you nudged your friend who was probably glaring at you, but you were too busy looking into the brown eyes of the pilot.

“Louise.”, she said trying to look casual and you followed with your name getting a smile out of him.

“And you?”

“Rooster.”, you certainly didn’t expect that and the two of you were looking at him like he was an idiot.

“Did your mother not love you or something.”, you slammed your elbow into her side and she shot you a glare while the pilots chuckled.

“Be nice.”, she rolled her eyes but said a quick sorry at the pilot.

“It’s my call sign, my real name is Bradley.”, the name did fit him, with his moustache and Hawaiian shirts. 

The blond pilot and his friend ended their game and prepared the pool table sending us a wink when they went to find something to drink. Bob seems nervous and you try to shoot him a reassuring grin, while Louise looks as worried as him.

“So, there is something between the two of them, right?”, you felt your cheeks heat up as you felt Rooster’s body close to you.

“Spent a night together, she still talks about it.”, he lets out a low whistle and you can’t help but chuckle at his reaction.

“Always the innocent one.”, you turn to look at him surprised and he smiles widely with a questioning gaze.

“I said the same thing.”, that makes an even large smile appear on his face and you feel a soft blush on your cheeks. 

Louise and Bob start the game and much to your surprise they seem to work well together, the shy man seems to start getting more at ease.

“Want to start?”, you chuckle at Rooster’s words, and he looks surprised.

“I suck at pool, you’re going to have to save this Rooster.”, he chuckles in disbelief, but I pat him on the shoulder, and he seems to shake out of it.

“I’ll do my best then.”, he sends you a wink before going to play.

The game is a bit chaotic with only Louise and Rooster being the good ones at pool while Bob and you cheer on each other when the other fails.

At one point you decide to try to play again but just as you get ready to you feel Rooster’s presence behind you. 

“Can I?”, you quickly nod confused as to what he was asking but you then feel his hand on your arm and changes your position, this causes his body to go a bit against you. You feel the air leave your body and you try to calm your racing heart at his touch.

“There you go, try now.”, you can hear the smirk in his voice and try to concentrate yourself on the game. By some miracle you manage to put the ball in the socket, and you turn around to look at Rooster with a large smile. The pilot looks at you with an even bigger smile and brings you closer to him to let Bob play.

The rest of the game is spent laughing and watching Bob flirting with Louise who is starting to get closer to him every time he does. Bob ends the game and somehow makes them win and Louise squeals before hugging him hard making the man stumble a bit.

“Seems like our plan worked.”, you chuckle at his words and turn to look at him.

“We make a pretty good team.”, you can’t help but get lost in his brown eyes and the feeling of having him close to you.

“Are you free tomorrow?”, Rooster has nervous smile as he asks the question, and you just want to kiss him right there.

“For you, I am.”, a wide grin appears, and he chuckles before bringing me closer.

“Good, then it’s a date.”, he says as he looks at you with sparkling brown eyes.

#top gun x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #rooster fanfic #rooster fanfiction #rooster x y/n #rooster x you #top gun imagine

[rruhlauthor]

Book Review - First Blood by David Morrell

Long before I knew there was a book called First Blood, I knew “Rambo” meant someone who went into situations with guns blazing, like Die Hard or John Wick. After reading it, I see how film and pop culture have turned the character into something strikingly different. I have never seen the movies, so my review will speak only of the book First Blood. What made the book so special? Would it be as well-known without the film adaptations? Thrillers are naturally inclined to be popular, just like the romance genre, for titillating the audience’s emotions and allowing them to vicariously experience adrenaline. Despite the fact the thriller genre tends to be more plot than character driven, First Blood is unique in the action being completely motivated by the characters’ emotions. This made for a powerful story I could not put down, a modern revenge tragedy, whose popularity was certainly due to its relevance to contemporary issues.

I was excited to learn David Morrell was a Penn State alum, which is not my alma mater but is my state! My copy contained a foreword from the author, in which he explained the idea came from flipping through the news (just like how Suzanne Collins got the idea for The Hunger Games). He saw coverage of the Vietnam war, violence in inner city America, and a story in which police officers arrested ‘troublemaker’ hippies, shaved their hair, and dropped them off in the middle of the desert. He thought, “What if I wrote a book in which the Vietnam war literally came home to America?” (Morrell 3)

On the surface level, it’s a story about men shooting each other, like a Western. Exciting enough for that target audience, but First Blood isn’t any thriller. Deeper, it’s an anti-war reflection that caused division within the divided society it was written for. First Blood was highly relevant to the issues of the 1970s and contains complex, compelling characters in which you really can’t tell who was the protagonist and who was the antagonist.

Neither Rambo nor Teasle are the “good guy” and I felt like we weren’t supposed to be rooting for either of them. Both are larger than life characters, but especially Rambo. See: the connotation of the name in pop culture. No one should be able to keep running with that many injuries, dehydration, broken ribs, fevers, bat bites, and bullet wounds. I would think no one can kill over a dozen men in a quick ambush, during a flash flood, with aforementioned broken ribs. Teasle similarly keeps going despite witnessing the death of his father figure, nearly having a heart attack, and finally dragging himself along with a hole in his abdomen.

As a side note to break up this gritty review about a gritty book: we got a solid appearance description for Rambo, but I don’t remember one for Teasle, and towards the end of the book I realized I should have been imagining him with a notable moustache because it was the 1970s. I must also mention, the sexism was very 1970s. There's the part where Teasle is thinking about Orval's wife and wondering who she'll cook and clean for with her husband dead. Because all women are good for is housework, right? Terrible.

I’ll admit didn’t care for Teasle, coming from the perspective of someone who doesn’t like cops who harass and arrest people for non-crimes such as ‘loitering’ just because they want an ego trip. It happens too often in the real world. No matter what Teasle said about the law or wanting a distraction from his divorce, I read between the lines to know he was ruthless in his pursuit because Rambo had disrespected him. Similarly, Rambo snapped not only because of PTSD and seeing the prison cell; he was refusing to cooperate even before getting arrested because Teasle had disrespected him. I was almost rooting for Rambo to escape, though I knew he wouldn’t. I felt like the Green Beret, proud of how skilled he was. I knew Rambo was not thinking straight, that to him, he was in Vietnam and not Kentucky. It made him a little easier for me to sympathize with than the police officer, though he lost most of my sympathy once his priority stopped being escape and he started hunting for sport.

Even though I agreed with absolutely nothing the characters were doing, I understood every single choice they made and the pathos behind it. Their characterizations were crystal clear, which is something I admire as a fellow writer. Furthermore, I was delighted by the parallel structure of the story. It begins with Rambo and Teasle meeting at a gas station where they butt heads over who is allowed into the town, and it ends with gas stations exploding while Rambo and Teasle hunt each other through town. The ending was cathartic. Despite me not liking either character, I understood both of them, which had me choked up at the end. It could not have ended any other way. This feels bizarre to say, but I was happy the book had the finale it did. I would have been disappointed if it ended in any other way but them killing each other. Their stories were too connected at that point. The hunt becomes a type of love. Teasle was seeing through “the kid’s” eyes. They were both so far past the point of no return, their entire lives narrowed down to one purpose—to defeat the other—so that once their goal was done, they’d have nothing else to live for/no more purpose as a character.

What was the purpose of all of it? All those men died in the woods and the town was burned down, just because a cop harassed a man who was doing nothing but walking down the street? There was no point to the level of bloodshed, but this is a book about the Vietnam war, and it carries the theme that there was no purpose for the war. The scene resonated with me with the Green Beret training officer saying he hated the war, but did his job because he wanted to teach the kids the government sent into the slaughter to stay alive longer. Teasle and Rambo both grew up being taught how to kill and little else. They both brought the war to America.

It’s a tragedy, through and through. It’s Shakespearean. Act I: Rambo is arrested and starts to run. Act II, the rising action: Teasle begins pursuit. Act III, the climax: Rambo kills everyone but Teasle. Act IV, the falling action: Rambo continues to evade pursuit. Act V, the conclusion: the fight in the town and the death of the tragic heroes. Rambo and Teasle both occupy an honored position in society, holding medals, they both have a tragic flaw—the ego/hubris of the classics—which causes the tragedy to happen, and they meet an end they cannot be restored from—death.

#book review #first blood #thriller

[resin-popia]

HE'S HERE *screaming forever*

More Unboxing stuff and my plans under the cut

PS If anyone would like to be on a tag list for my mans, please let me know! Also, Ask me Anything! (About dolls and other stuff)

Dream Valley Cayes from Alice's Collections (an amazing BJD agent!)

I can't do anything yet with him since I am leaving for an extended trip later this week BUT HE SO BEAUTIFUL! I got two heads, a skin-colored head and a white head so I can do Moustache/Sideburns Popia head.

He has longer limbs than normal MSD so the initial clothes I got for him don't fit super well. Guess I have to make some more thorough patterns for him!

I am going to be using my other body as a model for the clothes since I will be doing a full body blush on this guy. Tattoos, hair, scars, everything--- I really enjoy the challenge of making a doll as realistic as possible. (In many ways)

I am getting his wig made by a wig maker because tbh I really dislike making wigs and short hair wigs are really difficult to make. So this guy got the special treatment.

Dream Valley takes a super long time to get to you but I am really impressed by their wrapping and extras.

Unboxing Pics Below!

Taglist: @monkberryghouldelight @riptide-kid @historian-crown

#toy customization #cardinal copia #bjd copia #bjd unboxing #bjd wip #dream valley bjd #ghost fandom #legit bjd #my wips

[stiltonbasket]

Bakery au jiang Cheng also tries to grow a moustache? Bakery bao xiao-yu is :( about this and won’t snuggle his jiujiu until it’s gone.

Wen Qing also has opinions about the moustache, because her face is very tender and bristly kisses hurt sometimes! Jiang Cheng grows it out while she's away on a long trip and shaves it off the day after she comes home. XD

#asks #jc to nmj be like: but YOUR spouse finds your moustache dashing! where am I going wrong #meanwhile nmj spends at least half an hour every day to ensure that his moustache stays silky soft #so he can kiss lxc with abandon #he's a firefighter in this verse though so the moustache just has to go during winter (aka when electrical fires are more common) #for the sake of lxc's poor upper lip #xiao-yu will accept only two (2) moustaches and they are shugong's and dabo nmj's #jiujiu is meant to have a smooth face and the baos will not back down #wuxian versus world: bakery style #jiang cheng #wen qing #chengqing

[kaitaiga]

CoD MW OC: Captain Lachlan Jones

G'day everyone! Today I can *finally* introduce you to my second oc, Lachlan! This post will serve as his profile and what not so I hope you like him and look forward to seeing more of him soon! (ᵔᴥᵔ)

*click for better quality!

Edit: also, just realised I forgot his sidearm. Gave him the mags but no gun to go with it HAHA 🤦🏻‍♀️ I’ll add it in soon.

Profile under the cut!

Basics

Name: Lachlan Jones

Nickname(s): Lachie/Lockie, Jonsie, Cap, Boss, old fuck.

Birthday: 1982, aged 40 (2022) in Perth, WA.

Nationality: Australian

Face Claim: Henry Cavill

Height: 194cm

Weight: 96kg

Occupation: 2nd Commando Regiment, B Squadron.

Rank: Captain

Call Signs: Bravo 0-6

Family: Ex-wife, two children – two daughters, Ava (13) and Mia (8). Remarried 2024.

Appearance: Brown hair, green eyes, chevron moustache + stubble, thin scar across the left eye that splits into two all the way down to collar bone, large rose tattoo on right side of neck.

Accessories: AMCU Operator cap with Aus patch, Oakley Batwolf sunglasses worn backwards on his head.

Personality and Traits

Look overall once you’ve got to know him a bit and have a few chats, he’s a pretty chill guy, easy-going. Loves a bit of chat or whinge every now and then over a few drinks. You wouldn’t know this at first though since he looks so done with everything and everyone in conjunction with his gruff voice constantly sighing or telling people to go fuck themselves.

In reality, if you catch him at a time when he’s not busy, he’ll be happy enough to have a chat with you (as long as you don’t get on his nerves), same applies for everyone else in the unit. Just for fun, I see him as a guy who likes listening to drama even though he says otherwise - “I don’t have time to care about stuff like that” as he recalls the info the next day.

Though don’t get me wrong, he can lash out quite easily thanks to his developing anger issues after being in the military for so many years as well as family issues I suppose…but he tries his best to control it and is seeking help over it, for the sake of himself and being a good role-model to others and his children.

Speaking of his unit, he can be an absolute hardass on them, putting them through the worse of the worse scenarios so that they’re prepared for anything as well as being an outstanding solider on the field. He just wants them to have the best chance of survival out on field, and all while being one of the oldest members in the unit, shares his many years of experience with them. In short: when training or on operations, he shows little to no mercy on his men, will yell and scream at them to get on top of their shit, and if they don’t, suffer consequences later.

With that being said, he just cares a lot for them like they’re his own, especially the more time they’ve taken to grow and work together. He will check in on them and see how they’re doing like mentally since he knows how taxing this job is on the mind. Sometimes when they’re back in Australia, he’ll take some of them out on trips (like fishing or like driving to a nice Airbnb somewhere) or to grab food.

Pre-MW

Lachlan was born in Perth, WA to his father (who was an ex-SASR solider) and his mother who was a primary school teacher. His upbringing was pretty standard, not much to comment on, went through school pretty smoothly and was in the Aus Army Cadets in high school.

The start of his military career started when he was young. His father was still in the SASR for majority of his childhood and so when he wasn’t on deployment, he would take Lachlan to base a lot, showing him the various equipment, medals and even letting him have a go on the range once he was old enough. After hearing stories from his father and seeing all his achievements, he really was influenced by him to sign up once he was old enough to.

He enlisted at 17/18 (2000), into the Aus. Army where he served as an infantryman for a couple of years before going for commando selection, approximately at age 22 (2004). His father wanted him to go for SASR selection instead to follow his own footsteps, but Lachlan decided that the commandos were more his style.

Sometime during the mid years of him joining the commandos, Lachlan marries his wife and has two children whom he loves dearly. Few years later, they do separate on good terms due to the both of them not being able to sacrifice time for one another, along with Lachlan’s long departures and just the entirety of his line of work in general. He was paranoid about something happening to his family just because of their ties with him. When on leave, they all do meet as much as they can, especially his children who he’ll take care of. In short, he loves his children so very much and does hope to rekindle things with his ex-wife once he leaves 2CDO.

Current Events – Modern Warfare

Just like Damien, he spends most of their time out in the Middle East – Urzikstan – following orders dished out from the Ministry of Defence, unless specifically called upon by Price.

2009: Lachlan joins Lieutenant Price alongside other SAS members to raid a Russian chemical lab whilst also saving Farah and her brother, Hadir.

2019: Seen in Piccadilly and Clean House alongside Damien, Gaz, and Price. Returns to Urzikstan with Damien.

2022: Violence and Timing: help rescue Kate Laswell from AQ fighters.

Sometime in the future: Lachlan states he’s getting a little old for the full-time commando job. He plans to retire from 2CDO and transition into 1CDO (reserve commandos), where he will primarily work in the West Australian Police Tactical Response Group (WAPOL TRG), focusing on domestic counterterrorism.

Involvement with 141

As previously stated, he doesn’t particularly work alongside TF141 very often UNLESS Price specifically asks for his and/or his team’s aid. He’s met some of the members before with Damien, but very rarely do they work together with the full task force.

The two actually go waaaaay back! They’ve been good friends for years, ever since they met at an exchange exercise between 2CDO and SAS when they were both just sergeants. I think they admire each other in the sense that they both hate following certain rules/orders that go against their own morals, so they’re both willing to go against them. They’ve worked together in many operations over the years, either side by side or across the globe, and have earned each other’s trust. In general, they do have similar personalities, but Lachlan is a bit more hot-headed.

In their downtime though, they love bantering. Particularly poking fun at each other’s hats…

 Lachlan has also gotten to know Gaz pretty decently too since he’s always by Price’s side in recent years. He and Price are always talking about Damien and Kyle like proud fathers ;’)

Another interesting note to add is Lachlan’s relationship with Simon Riley, rather than Ghost. There was a line in MWII suggesting Price knew Simon before he became Ghost, so taking reference from this, Lachlan has definitely met him before and has worked with him/trained him.

He could see that Simon was different from the rest of the SAS members in the sense that he was more quiet and observant, but above all, incredibly skilled in a multitude of things. He really took a liking to him – often calling him ‘kid’.

I don’t know Ghost’s lore in the reboot/if it’s the same as the OGs, however, you could imagine when Lachlan met up with Simon after a while he was taken aback by his new identity as Ghost. Of course, he was naturally inclined to ask why Simon had suddenly just changed, but he stopped himself when he looked at his overall demeanour. He knew something had bad happened but ultimately decided it was up to Ghost if he wanted to share.

Again, I don’t know how much Price knows about Ghost’s past but if he does, then Lachlan would too sometime later, either through Price dropping subtle queues or Ghost just outright telling him.

That’s all for now! This post may or may not be updated over time (bc I am incredibly indecisive, and things change over time) so keep a look out 👁️👁️

#actually my favourite design between him and damien #he just looks so cool…and way to aussie #walked straight out of a BCF LMAOOO #lachlan jones #my art #my oc #call of duty #cod oc #call of duty modern warfare #mwii #call of duty oc #modern warfare oc #call of duty modern warfare oc #australian oc #damien whitlock #modern warfare #original character #artists on tumblr #captain price #Spotify

[www-librarytearoom-com]

Some more takes of @greyennui and @waterho-writes 's Anger is but Passion Borne of Love. This time I tried to replicate some of the scenes, so SPOILERS FOR THAT. Also, why would I need to worry about spoilers? GO READ THE FANFIC

Also if you're wondering why u can't see Luigi's moustache, simply I literally hate the sims 4 mustaches as they're basically just blobs so I gave him a little stubble - at least he has a moustache somewhat. 🤭

SPOILER WARNING!

Bowser confronting Luigi about Walbright. There was something about this scene that genuinely made me feel sorry for both of them.

Bowser and Luigi FINALLY using terms of endearment for each other as they stroll through the garden, where Bowser makes Luigi promise to tell him if he begins to neglect him. THIS MADE MY HEART FUZZY.

So originally this was going to be the scene where Luigi tripped and fell over the rug, but I COULDN'T FIND A POSE SIMILAR ENOUGH, so instead I just decided to- yk, make my own up with Kamek chaperoning in the background like 'when will they realise they're in love?'

BOWSER COLLAPSING IN THE DINING ROOM WHEN LUIGI WAS SICK AFTER THE ANNOUNCEMENT DINNER- I swear I literally cried a little. I felt so bad for him as he clearly has so much anguish and UGH

My favourite scene from chapter 10 - these two being scandalous sharing a bed together before they're wed. Peter surely is an amazing influence on Luigi and BOWSER BEING A CHEEKY LITTLE BUGGER

If anyone actually sees this then I hope I did this fanfiction justice with these scenes 😭 I literally am in love with it.

#lgbtq #fanfic #bowuigi #bowser x luigi #super mario #Anger is but Passion Borne of Love #writing #sims 4 #regency au #beauty and the beast

[seresinsbabe]

As it is starting to get spring, a cute ice cream date with Bradley.

It is a lot fun ... you didn't dare to say it too soon (because it was too funny) but there was some ice cream in his moustache during all his babbling

i wrote this in a bar so if it sucks i’m sorry

The bright white ice cream was glaringly obvious against the background of course red hair above his lip. Bradley was just too cute for you to say anything.

And really the date was perfect. A trip to the butterfly sanctuary and then ice cream was easy. No pressure for forced conversation like with some stuffy dinner date. Not that you really had to force conversation with him. It came as easy as breathing.

Right now he was babbling about…you think the Phillies, but it could also be work? You weren’t sure because you’d been too distracted taking him in.

The way his lips ticked up in a smile, how he was talking with his hands. The little curl that kept falling down in his face and gave him the slightest of a boyish look to him. Even with the bit of ice cream still in his mustache he was downright adorable.

Without thinking you reached out and swiped the bit of ice cream off his mustache. The move caught Bradley off guard and his already rosy cheeks started to become rosier.

You took the break in his babbling as your chance to kiss him. Just a soft one, short and sweet.

“You were just so cute while you were babbling, I couldn’t help it.” You hummed, flashing him a cheeky grin.

He swooped in for another kiss. “So does this mean I get a second date?”

#bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fluff #ask ash #rooster imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw