#but its. almost nice to see yourself like that. makes me feel less alone in this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

familyvideostevie · 15 days

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time you will not spend alone

joel miller x fem!reader, 18+ mdni romance at the end of the world is this: flowers, lazy nights in bed after long days, and savoring every moment | or, joel makes you something. jackson!joel au, fem!reader, fluff, maybe a bit cheesy but idgaf, ellie cameo cause i can't do a damn thing without her, tommy gets some page time here too, smut (riding, unprotected p in v sex, some finger sucking lol), tenderness, gift giving | 5.7k a/n: i think this is the last part of the just and just as series for the foreseeable future. thank you for reading about this little au and these two lovebirds! i adore them. thank you @frannyzooey and @macfrog for your eyes and support on this. and thank you everyone else for being patient. <3

Spring sweeps into the valley seemingly overnight. The peaks remain snow-capped but the bare branches of trees between the evergreens begin to bud. Chilly mornings lose their bite and frost turns to dew and every day there is more light.

You've always thought Jackson looks its best in winter, but it's a damn sight to see as life and color return. And the latter is your favorite part -- the rolling hills outside the walls and the forest patrol paths are dotted and then overflowing with flowers.

It makes you feel more alive. Patrol isn't a freezing ordeal anymore -- it's an opportunity to see the remaining beauty in the world.

Today's shift is short and easy but you find yourself lingering, running your hands through pine needles and turning your face to the sun. Your horse is happy to munch on a patch of grass in a clearing just off the main trail, but your patrol partner is less than impressed.

"Are you serious?" Ellie moans. "You're stopping again? What the fuuuuuuuuck."

She sags in the saddle. The pout on her lips makes her look like a kid sent to bed without supper rather than an almost-twenty-year-old forced to spend some extra minutes in the fresh air. Shimmer has no problem chewing on some weeds despite her rider's moaning.

"Let me enjoy the sun," you say. "When you get older you'll appreciate the little things, too."

You hop off your horse and Ellie sighs loudly.

"Jesus, you're not that old," she mutters. "Seriously, what are you doing?"

You sweep your arms around you, gesturing at the meadow. "These flowers are nice," you tell her, pointedly. She adjusts the rifle slung over her shoulder. "I think I'm going to pick some and bring them home."

She snorts. "Oh, is Joel suddenly into flowers?"

You ignore her bait and crouch, gaze sweeping over the array of colors in front of you. You tried to learn the names of flowers years ago when you found a book on them in an old bookstore but they never stuck. Purples, pinks, and yellows, large petals and small ones, delicate yet hardy to survive the world past its end.

Joel isn't a fussy man. Young fathers don't get to be, and anyone alive these days sheds that impulse just as quickly. He's happy to wake up every day with you by his side, his kid in the garage out back and walls around everything he loves, keeping it all safe.

It makes it both easy and hard to please him -- you want to give him everything but he seems to want nothing. A perfect paradox, a puzzle to solve.

God, you love him. You love spring, you love Joel. Everything feels good.

So, you start to gather stems, snapping them at their bases, humming as you work.

"How do you choose which ones to pick?"

"Fuck," you gasp, careening forward onto one palm and looking over your shoulder. Ellie is off her horse and much closer than before, standing directly behind you. "Jesus, you're stealthy."

She shrugs, her smirk a pleased slash across her face. "You're oblivious as fuck."

You roll your eyes at her.

"Seriously," Ellie says, crossing her arms. She jerks her chin at the small bouquet you've got in one hand. "How do you make it look so nice?"

"Oh, so we've moved on from the making-fun-of-me part of this?"

She crouches next to you, elbows on her knees.

"I, uh -- " Her cheeks go pink, freckles standing out against her blush. "Dina likes flowers."

You bump her shoulder with yours. "I'm going to be so nice and not tease you."

"Fuck off," she scoffs, tucking her smile into her shoulder.

It's quick work. Ellie follows your lead, balances out the blooms she picks with some leafy weeds. She ties them together with one of the minimum four spare hairbands she has on her person at all times -- bits of cloth, occasionally a rare unused elastic from before if she's found some on patrol.

"Isn't it kinda shitty?" she muses, nimble fingers turning her bouquet this way and that to admire it. "We're killing them. The flowers, I mean."

"Little late to have a conscience about killing," you say lightly. The two rabbits she pulled from Jackson snares hang from her saddle. You've seen her in action, too -- gun raised, hands steady, blood splattered across her cheek. It's not an accusation, far from it. Violence is a language you both speak, one she's known for most of her still-short life.

She rolls her eyes, every bit a teenager. "Whatever."

You sigh. "You're right, though," you say. "There were whole shops dedicated to this before. Selling flowers, making bouquets and centerpieces and all that shit."

She probably knows this, but she lets you describe it. Ellie soaks up bits of the old world like it will materialize before her if she listens hard enough. Joel says it was much worse when she was younger, right after they settled into Jackson. She wanted details about everything and watched every movie she could get her hands on. You think she was satisfying her curiosity, sure, but also that she was trying to understand him better -- but didn't know how to say so.

"Weird," she mutters. "And you just...bought them for other people?"

"Or yourself." You pat her shoulder and stand. Your horse tries to nibble on your flowers before you haul yourself back in the saddle. "It was just a nice thing to do, I guess."

"Killing something to make someone else happy," Ellie says with a dry laugh. She tucks her bouquet in the crook of her arm once she's back in the saddle. "I guess everyone does that these days."

It's absurd when she puts it that way, but it's true. You've all got blood on your hands. You would kill for this girl, for Joel, for pretty much anyone in Jackson. And you have.

The flowers are for Joel, they're for your house, they're for you. Something beautiful to bring home alongside your dirt stains and scarred hands, your haunted eyes and nightmares. No one is spared those.

It's only mid-morning by the time you get back to the wall. You and Ellie left at dawn, short sticks drawn for the early shift. She leaves you in the stables with a mock salute and a shout of thanks, practically jogging to Dina's to give her the flowers.

You're untacking your horse when you hear familiar laughter, a deep chuckle and Ellie's faint indignant protest.

"Mornin'," Joel says from behind you. "Was hopin' to catch you at the gate."

"Can you hold these?"

You blindly extend the hand with the flowers. His fingers carefully extract the bouquet and you return to brushing out your horse.

"Does this have somethin' to do with Ellie runnin' out of her with flowers of her own?"

"Never let anyone say you're unobservant, Joel Miller."

He snickers. You leave your horse with a final pat on the neck and thanks for a job well done.

When you face Joel, he looks tired -- he's been pulling extra long days replacing windows and roof tiles after the winter's damage. God knows that man never seems fully rested, but it's a little worse when the seasons change.

He's told you time and time again that standing two stories off the ground is a hell of a lot safer than fighting some Infected on patrol, but you still worry. Just like you know he worries about you beyond the walls, how he's a little tenser whenever you're not in sight, whenever he hasn't seen Ellie for a few days ‘cause they're both busy. It's just how he loves. It's how you both love.

You make no move to take the flowers from him, instead brushing some sawdust from his shoulder.

"Did you have a job already?" you ask.

"Small one. Fixin' a crooked over mailbox." He looks pointedly at his full fist. "You gonna explain now?"

"They're for you."

Joel blinks once, twice, brows furrowing like you're speaking a different language. Maybe a few years ago you'd start to feel self-conscious, unsure of your romantic gesture and insecure in his reaction. But now, as fully in love and connected to this man as you are, you lean in.

"If you're too manly to carry flowers through town --"

You make to take them from him but he snaps out of his daze and wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you to his chest in a smooth motion.

He also holds the bouquet in the air and out of reach.

"Hey, now," he says. "Hands off. These ain't your flowers."

"I picked 'em," you remind him, poking him in the ribs for good measure.

He flinches just a little but doesn't move. His embrace is warm and familiar and you sink into it. "Gettin' romantic," he mutters and brings the flowers back down to eye level to examine them.

"I'm just trying to catch up to you," you say into his jacket. He huffs and his palm rubs a slow line up and down your arm.

You wiggle out of his embrace to shoulder your pack.

"I am pretty romantic," he muses.

It's true. Even if he's joking and even if no one but you gets to see it, Joel has always made sure you feel loved. Courtship and romance look different these days, but it still comes naturally to him -- loving. Dinner dates, jewelry, and trips to the airport have become a battered paperback, a sharpened knife, and bloody knuckles, but it rings just as true. He loves you and he loves his family the best way he knows how – by keeping you all safe.

And you do your best to convey the same thing. You tell him, of course, but you also mend his shirts and chop wood when his back is acting up, and you look after his kid like she's your own.

Joel deserves to know that he can receive all that he gives, too – the protection, the tenderness, the beauty. Moments of softness and rest where he knows he’s taken care of, thought of, that he matters beyond the things he can do for everyone else.

So, you also do things like bring him flowers.

Sometimes you feel like it will never be enough. You will never have enough time to show him how much he means to you, how he's saved you, how important and cherished and loved he is. How good he is.

Joel reaches for your face with his free hand. He traces the line of your cheekbone with his thumb and smirks when you inhale sharply. Another patrol returns and the stables are suddenly louder and more crowded than before. If you're both free for the rest of the day, you want to drag him up to your bedroom and spend the hours there. You want to show him, for the millionth time, how much you love him.

"Okay, Mr. Pretty Romantic," you say, grabbing his hand and tangling your fingers together. "Let's go home."

___

Joel is hiding something from you.

The flowers last for a week and you watch him eye them and smile every time he enters the kitchen.

But after they droop and go in the compost pile, something shifts. Something subtle, sure, but you spend most of your waking hours looking for or at Joel, so you notice.

He starts keeping his workshop door closed. Normally you'll sit and watch him work, or he'll teach you a few chords here and there on the guitars he's making, but your lessons move to the porch and the upstairs hallway loses the scent of wood glue and stain.

In fact, he actively steers you away from the room altogether. He's all just needs a deep clean and it's messy, is all. It's not rocket science -- he's making something for you, clearly. But giving him a hard time is too fun to pass up.

One night, you and Ellie wait at the bottom of the stairs. There's a dinner and movie night in the old church and you're taking the opportunity to make it a family outing.

"You coming?" you holler up the stairs. You hear the door creak open.

"Gimme a second," he calls back down.

"Jesus," you mutter. You tap the side of Ellie’s sneaker with your boot. "You know anything about that?"

Honesty is important between all of you, but you know Joel and Ellie need to have their secrets. There is too much tangled history between them for you to understand it all. It's important to you that they have a relationship all their own, even if it means they scheme.

Ellie is examining her switchblade with intense focus. "I might," she says with a smirk. "He's a lovesick loser, I'll tell you that."

You lean on the banister and raise your eyebrows. "Do you remember when you asked me how to embroider so you could put Dina's name on her jacket?"

The knife swings closed with a snick and she rolls her eyes at you, cheeks pink.

"Shit, dude," she says. "Why do I tell you anything?"

"She liked the flowers, though, didn't she?"

Ellie crosses her arms and smiles at whatever memory she's seeing in her mind. "Yeah," she says. "She did. Jesse gave me so much shit, though --"

The door upstairs closes and Joel's heavy footfalls cut her off.

"Finally," you grumble. He trods down the stairs, arms half in his jacket when he catches sight of the two of you. "Are you hiding state secrets in there?"

"What the fuck does that mean?" Ellie asks.

"Might be," is all he says. He's got that twinkle in his eye that means mischief but he looks proud of himself. You can let him have this, whatever this is. You trust him and you'll find out eventually.

"Alright," you say, pushing off the banister and heading for the door. "You're going to breathe toxic fumes with the door closed."

"No, seriously," Ellie says. "What kind of secrets would a state be keeping?"

"Ain't nothin' toxic in there," he says lightly. He bumps Ellie's shoulder with his. "C'mon."

She throws her hands up in the air. "You know, it's shitty when you ignore me."

"Did you hear somethin'?" Joel says to you.

You shake your head, swallowing your laughter. "No," you say. "Nothing."

"Assholes." She pushes past you and down the steps onto the street. "I'm going to make sure there are no mashed potatoes left when you get there."

You don't mind letting Joel do whatever he's up to in all of his spare moments. It does mean you have more time to yourself, so you pick up some extra wall shifts.

And when one of those shifts is with Tommy? Well, you can't help but needle him a little bit about it all.

"Do you know what your brother is up to?" you ask him.

The wind today carries some lingering winter bite, so you've got the collar of your coat pulled up around your ears. Tommy’s hair whips around his face when he raises his eyebrows at you.

"Gonna have to be more specific," he says. "My brother is always up to some shit."

"I think he'd say the same thing about you."

Tommy laughs. He's got the reputation for being the more easy-going of the Millers, but you know he's more a match for Joel than most think. Out in the world, they work as one, silent and deadly, always in step when it counts. They still speak a language all their own with just a look and you see so much of them in each other when you pay attention.

"Well, I learned it all from him," he says. He adjusts his grip on the rifle and sighs. "I happen to know what you're talkin' 'bout, though."

"Is he just telling everyone but me?"

"Nah," Tommy scoffs. "Asked me and Ellie for help, s'all. And you know he tells that girl everythin'."

You both smile for a moment at your fondness for them.

Tommy clears his throat. "Does it bother you? Him keepin' a secret?"

You know Tommy won't let your answer get back to Joel. He's asking as your friend, as your kind-of brother. He's asking because he cares.

A patrol crests the hill, green flag waving in the air. They whistle and shout for the gate to be opened.

You step closer to Tommy so he can hear you. "No," you say. "I just like to gossip."

"Don't I know it," he chuckles. "You two are the eyes and ears of this damn town. Knowin' everything."

"Except what happens in my own home," you tease.

He shrugs. "You'll like it, if that helps," he adds.

"I know I will."

You look out at the world beyond the wall and smile to yourself.

Joel has made you a few things over the years. He works wonders with his hands all the time: Beautiful, intricate carvings for the house, for Ellie, for new babies in town. The wall of guitars, not to mention the ones he's made for kids to learn on in school. You're better at sewing than he is, but he's pretty damn good – fixing up pillowcases and blankets and clothes of all kinds. Joel is a craftsman.

Hands that hold you can also pull a trigger, punch until there's nothing left, and craft a work of art.

And he knows you. He pays attention -- there is a reason behind everything he does. If he's making you something, you know you'll love it.

"Strange, ain’t it?" Tommy says. You turn to him, a question on your face. "World ended and here we all are, happy. Makin' shit for each other. Gosspin'."

You sigh. “Took a lot to get here.”

“Damn right,” he says with a long whistle. “Lotta shit behind us.”

“Do you ever regret it?” you ask.

Tommy considers your words. You two talk plenty, but you’ve never really spoken about the past. Joel tells you whatever you want to hear about the years before you knew him, so you’ve got a pretty good picture of their lives after the outbreak.

"Can I tell you somethin’?” Tommy asks. You nod. "Alright. I – I never thought I'd see my brother this happy again. And I wish every damn day that Sarah was here to see it. To know him this way, to meet Maria. To know you and Ellie."

Joel has said the same thing before and it’s an honor greater than you can ever explain.

"When I saw him and that girl a few years ago, I thought --" Tommy clears his throat. "I thought maybe he’d made it through all the shit we did. And I was right. She brought him through it. And now he’s here, doin’ stable life shit we dreamed about before."

"Ellie is a force," you say, a little surprised to find your voice watery. The love between Ellie and Joel is fierce and powerful, evident to anyone who witnesses it. They would do anything for each other, even though they're mending.

"She is," he says. "And so are you.” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Shit, I don’t know where I’m goin’ with this. Point is – seein' him love you, too, shows me he’s through it. He's alive again, you know? And I’d do all the shit we did over again just to get us all here. So, no. I don’t regret it."

It’s nothing you haven’t thought before, but the words work their way into your heart and sit there, heavy and warm.

“Damn,” you say. You swallow and give him a wide smile. "If you keep going, Tommy Miller, I will start crying and that would embarrass us both."

He laughs and blinks a few times. You join in, wiping your eyes.

"Alright, I won't," he says. "Jesus, all you did was ask what he's doin' in that workshop."

You clap him on the shoulder. "I won't tell anyone you started blubbering on duty."

He snorts. "Ain't that generous of you.”

Days pass. A week. You almost forget about Joel's project because he spends less and less time in the workshop and more on tasks around town as the days get longer. You're both busy -- chopping wood, planting bulbs for the fall, helping de-shed the horses. There's always work to be done.

After a particularly long day on your feet, you come out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel to find he's gotten home while you were in the shower.

"Hey, stranger," you say. You're mostly dry but some water drips down your back and you shiver. Joel is leaning against the headboard on top of the sheets without his shirt, reading whatever book he's onto now.

"Didn't hear me come in?" he asks. He sets his volume aside and pulls off his glasses.

"I was too busy coming back to life under some hot water." He probably heard you singing off-key to some long-lost song stuck in your head for the millionth time. "And you're quiet as hell, Joel."

He shrugs.

You just look at each other, the intimate gaze of two people who know every inch of each other and never tire of it.

The sleep pants he wears to bed this time of year are lightweight, thin enough that you can see the outline of him from here. His stomach is soft where he's bent at the waist and the trail of hair above his waistband is dark, darker than the rest of what's on his chest.

The golden expanse of his skin just begs to be touched, so you make your way over to him in your towel. He makes room for you to perch on the edge of the bed, the bare skin of your thigh pressing into his pants. His palm rests on your knee.

"I haven't seen much of you lately," you say softly. "’Cause of that damn thing you're working on."

His fingers press into your skin.

"Ain't patience a virtue, or something like that?"

"Whatever magic you're working better be worth waiting for," you tease.

Joel's hand resumes its path up your leg and he smirks.

"I can work some magic right now," he says.

You laugh, throwing your head back as his fingertips edge under the towel.

"That was awful," you say. "I should get dressed in all of my layers right now and go sleep on the couch."

You pull away from his touch so you can straddle him, your towel only held on by one hand at your breasts.

Joel snickers. "But then I wouldn't be able to do this."

Nimble fingers find your cunt between your spread legs and you gasp a laugh, one hand on his shoulder to balance you in his lap.

"Smooth," you manage. His other hand tugs on the towel and you release it, your slightly damp skin breaking out into goosebumps in the air of the bedroom.

Joel drags his lips between your breasts and you feel his smile.

"Christ," he says. "You comin' outta there in just a towel and you expect me to go to sleep?"

He pulls his fingers from you and frames your face with both hands to drag it down to his in a lazy, thorough kiss, like he's savoring each moment.

His tongue traces the seam of your lips and you let him in readily, arms wrapping around his shoulders as you grind down on the hardness you can feel through his pants.

"I've missed you," you say, dragging your tongue along down his jaw. His fingertips press into your bare hips hard enough to bruise, but it's a grounding touch rather than an urgent one. You want to take your time because you have missed him, and you think he feels the same way.

"Sorry, sweetheart," Joel groans, dragging your lips back to his. "It'll be worth it."

You pull back to look him in the eyes. The hazel-grey is almost totally taken over by his pupil, but his gaze softens when you cup his cheek and smile.

"I know," you say, and mean it. Naked in his lap in your bedroom, you mean it. You always mean it. You always trust him.

Joel kisses you once, twice, and you pull on his lower lip with your teeth when he pulls away. His nostrils flare and before you can tug his cock from his pants, he holds two fingers out to you.

You laugh, circling his wrist and bringing the digits past your lips. You swirl your tongue around them and really take your time with it, laving at his knuckles before releasing them with a pop.

His cock twitches beneath you and he huffs.

"You're an easy man to please, Joel Miller," you tell him, tugging down his pants and letting his shaft spring free. You stroke him root to tip and he hisses.

"Nah," he manages. "It's ‘cause it's you."

He follows his words with a circle of your clit from his spit-slick fingers.

"See?" you gasp. "Romantic."

It's a bit crowded, his hand rubbing your clit and yours slowly jerking him, but neither of you rush it. You pant together, dotting lazy kisses on any piece of bare skin you can reach. You breathe him in, the combination of sweat and gun oil and fresh detergent that's just Joel. A rush of tenderness hits you so suddenly your nose stings.

"Joel," you say, a bit ragged. "Joel, can you --"

A gentle hand on your face brings your foreheads together, his eyes on yours.

"Whatever you want," he groans. "Whatever you want, it's yours."

You can't help it -- you laugh. Brightly and happily, almost in disbelief that this man is yours. Real and solid under you right now, beside you every night. Yours to love and cherish and all the rest.

"You laughin' at me?" he grumbles, though you can tell he's fighting a smile.

"I just love you, is all," you say. You probably don't say it enough. You and Joel show each other every day, so much so that you can't imagine he doesn't know. As it is, you feel loved by him with every move he makes, every time he looks in your direction, every time he says your name.

"And I want you to fuck me," you add.

It's Joel's turn to laugh.

"Now who's the romantic one?" he says.

You rise from his lap and settle onto your back on the other side of the bed, stretching with your hands above your head.

His eyes follow the line of your bare body, fondness and hunger recognizable in his gaze.

"Always so damn pretty," he grumbles. "Prettiest thing I've ever seen."

"Flirt," you tease.

He rises to his knees and pumps his cock a few times with his fist. You spread your legs for him, knees bent up against your chest.

He settles between your knees and you lock them around his hips. Joel honest-to-god winks at you before dragging two fingers through your folds to make sure you're slick enough.

"Ready?"

You nod. He enters you in one practiced move and you groan in unison as you adjust. It takes some shuffling but he finds a position he can hold, and you wrap your arms around his neck.

Joel fucks you slow and deep. Each drag of his cock against your walls curls your toes and drags whines from both of your throats. He keeps up his usual babel -- doin' so good, feel like a dream, so damn tight, cunt's a fuckin' miracle -- and you press your hands into his bare back like he's a life raft.

Sweat beats on your brow, your chest, everywhere, and you suck bruises into his neck as his thrusts get a little frantic. Your own orgasm sneaks up on you, the pressure building and building and building until it snaps without warning.

"Joel -- Joel, fuck, I --"

You clench around him and he chants your name, that's it, baby, come on my cock, and buries himself to the hilt to finish inside you.

He hovers above you on trembling arms long enough to press a sweet kiss to your lips before rolling off of you.

"Now I'm ready for bed," you say, panting.

You fling a hand out lazily and it lands on his chest. He intertwines your fingers and his gaze finds yours. You smile as you get your breathing under control.

Joel smooths your brow with a thumb. "Don't forget to --"

"I know, I know," you say. "C'mon, you know this isn't my first rodeo." You get up from the bed and head to the bathroom.

"You sayin' I'm a bull?" Joel calls after you.

"Save a horse, ride a cowboy!" you holler back, cleaning yourself up. "Didn't people used to say that?"

Joel doesn't answer you but you laugh at your own joke. You make your way back to the bed in old pyjamas and find him back in his sweatpants, feet flat on the floor like he's about to get up and go somewhere.

"Joel?"

He sighs, his shoulders moving up and down like he's bracing himself.

"It's done," he says. "Your surprise."

The confession stops you in your tracks.

"Oh?"

You know Joel better than mosty, but sometimes he's still a puzzle. The hesitation, the slight air of anxiety about him as he says it confuses you. Because Joel is good at taking care of people, and he has to know it -- those years he and Ellie didn't speak you know he left her things, know that he took care of her from afar as much as she would let him. It's just what he does, he uses his hands to beat and shoot and bloody – but also to carve and hold and love.

They're the same thing, really.

And he's made you something – one of countless gifts he's given you, tangible and not, throughout your relationship.

But he's nervous. As if you wouldn't love anything he made, anything he does. As if you're not gone over every part of him.

"Hm," he says. "Yeah. Let me --"

Joel gets up from the bed and pads over to the dresser to rummage around in a drawer. You meet him back on the bed and he's holding a square-ish parcel wrapped in cloth.

You gingerly take it from him.

"This is what you've been working on?" you ask softly. He nods.

You unwrap the cloth and find yourself holding leather-bound journal. The hide is smooth under your fingertips, scraped clean by hand and tanned a dark chestnut.The spine is about an inch wide, the whole thing swen together with neat stitches of what can only be catgut. A thinner strip of leather is wrapped around the cover and tucked into itself carefully. It must have taken him ages to make.

"Joel," you gasp. "It's...god, it's beautiful."

He tells you how he found it on patrol a few weeks ago. The cover was fucked but the paper was somehow fine, so he dried out the pages and rebound it with a hide he tanned himself. You run your hands over it again almost like you can feel his fingerprints all over it, the hours he poured into the pages.

The inside cover falls open easily when you undo the tie and you see letters in the bottom left corner of it. Your eyes sting.

Joel has carefully burned your name into the leather, each letter perfectly lined up with the next. You haven't had something with your name on it in years.

He clears his throat. "Ellie said she'd give you some of her pens. Show you how to refill 'em."

You look up from your gift and find so much love on his face you can hardly stand it. He was inside you not that long ago and somehow this is more intimate. You surge forward into his space and wrap an arm around his shoulders, burying your face in his neck.

"I don't know what to say," you confess. "Just -- thank you."

He runs his hand along your spine.

"S'nothin'," he says. "Just saw it and thought of you, is all."

You release him and shake your head in disbelief. This man.

"What should I write in it?"

Joel's cheeks darken a little. Of course he's thought of everything.

"Figured you could write about...all this." He waves a hand in the air like that explains anything.

"All what?"

He shrugs one bare shoulder.

"Life," he says. "Jackson. Folks here. Might be nice, havin' the memories."

You scoot closer to him so you're almost in his lap again.

"You want me to write down the gossip?" You mean it as a joke but Joel nods.

"You pay attention," he explains. "Someone's gotta."

You're not much of a writer anymore, haven't had cause to be in twenty years. But you do like to tell stories. You both do.

The pages are soft under your fingertips as you flip through them again. You're going to fill them with stories -- about this town, about Joel and Ellie and Tommy and the people you love. The people you've lost, too. The memories that hurt like bruises, like fresh wounds. But the good stuff, too. The gossip, the love stories, the plants in the yard and the flowers on the trails.

Joel has given you the ability to record your lives.

You reach over him to set the journal on the nightstand before you frame his face with both of your hands.

"I'm going to write pages and pages about you, Joel Miller," you whisper.

He huffs, cheeks warm under your palms. "That's borin'."

You shake your head and lean in until your lips brush and your eyes flutter shut.

"That's the story," you say. "That's my life. This is my life. You are."

“I love you,” he breathes. “So damn much. Y’know that?”

How could you not? You say so and kiss him firmly but without hurry. You’ve got lots of time. You’ve got forever.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

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wandasgf · 8 months

Note

Okay but what about g!p Nat getting r pregnant at a one night stand. R actually being yelenas best friend who always said her sister is off limits and told nat her friends are off limits. Nat being a player. But like a happy ending

KISS ME UNTIL MY LIPS FALL OFF mdni. 18+

pairings ; natasha romanoff + f ! reader (romantic), yelena belova + f ! reader (platonic), wanda maximoff + f ! reader (platonic)

summary ; you know you shouldn't, really you do, but there's just something about natasha that pulls you in and wraps an iron chain around your heart

warnings ; fade to black smut (i'm the worst, i know), natasha has a penis, unprotected sex, pregnancy, top ! natasha, bottom ! reader, tiny bit of angst, intoxication, morning sickness

wc ; 2.5k~

a/n ; i hope this is what you were looking for !! i got a liiiitle carried away with this i think. also this is not proofread ! (also, please do not use the term 'g!p', just say 'character with penis' please !)

“She is off limits, Natalia. I can see that look in your eyes, she’s too nice for you.”

“She is no good for you, Y/N. Don’t fall for her annoying charms.”

That is what Yelena had said to both of you, separately, of course, the first time you met her sister. For Natasha it was a thinly veiled threat and for you it was a warning– Natasha was no good, she would break your heart.

That was about four years ago and while the two of you tried your best to respect Yelena’s wishes, you more so than Natasha, it was getting increasingly harder to deny the attraction you felt towards each other. You never wanted to cross Yelena’s boundaries, she was your best friend since you two were old enough to walk. A betrayal like that would shake your friendship in ways you didn’t want to think about.

You understand that Yelena just wants the best for you, knowing of her sister’s habit of sleeping with girls only to leave them in the middle of the night and suddenly forget they exist, but there was just something that wouldn't stop tugging you towards Natasha. There was no denying her attractiveness, anyone with eyes could tell that the redhead was attractive, but it was the way she treated you that really had you weak in the knees. She was frustratingly charming and stupidly sweet. When Yelena was around to shoot daggers at her for her flirting, she claimed that she was just being friendly.

“What’s wrong with being nice to a pretty girl, Lena?”

You two had shared more than a few tender moments alone, but nothing past a soft kiss and a quietly whispered ‘You know we can’t’ that always left Natasha wanting more of you. She knew you wanted to respect Yelena, she did, and she lov– liked you for how much you cared for her sister, but God, she wished you cared a little less. She wished you were a little more selfish, a little more willing to let her have you.

Natasha doesn’t know when she developed actual feelings for you past physical attraction, and she’d rather not think about it, if she were being honest. It didn’t matter what she felt for you if she could never act on it, if it would make her feel rotten for acting on it, for crossing a boundary Yelena had set and you were trying your hardest to set yourself. So, she did what she’d been doing best for the past three years: slept with almost every girl that the only gay bar in Ohio had to offer.

It’s not like the both of you hadn’t tried to move on, but nothing ever seemed to stick. None of the girls Natasha slept with made the burning hole in her chest ease its aching, and no one you ever tried to date could ever compare to Natasha. Even that pretty blonde pilot with the same type of dominating presence couldn’t tear your heart away from the Russian. You think you might have to try and erase Natasha from your memory, but even then you don’t think it would work. Your heart would still remember her.

Too many drinks and Yelena’s birthday party is how you ended up here, in the one place you shouldn’t be. Natasha just looked so pretty tonight, even wearing something so simple as her usual leather jacket and black jeans, you finally just couldn’t contain yourself. You two are in the guest bedroom of Yelena’s apartment, Natasha’s hands gripping your waist as you grind against her lap, your hands tangled in her hair.

This is the first time the two of you had gone past a soft kiss or a gentle hand brushing against each other. It’s been four years of torture, trying to deny each other of what you both wanted, and now that you have it, it doesn’t seem like either of you want to let go. Natasha had been a little shocked when you barged into the room she was occupying for the night, but who is she to deny you when you were all red cheeked and asking for her to please kiss you?

“Okay, okay. Slow down, sweetheart.” Natasha laughs, breathless as she pulls away from your lips, her hands stilling your hips. God, she wants to keep going, but she could taste the liquor on your lips, and the last thing she wanted to do was let you do something you’d regret. You try to chase her lips, a pout making its way onto your features, but she holds you back.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Just looking at you, Tasha.” You grumble, trying to press your lips to hers again.

“Hey, hey, come on. Listen to me for a minute, okay?” She reaches up to tuck your hair behind your ear and brushes her thumb across your cheek. The touch feels like electricity shooting through your body and you wish she would just stop trying to talk to you. Does she not want you like you want her?

“You know, once we do this there’s no going back, Y/N. You have to be sure, okay? Do you want this?”

“Yes. Please, Tasha, I want you. Don’t make me wait any longer, please.”

And, well, who is Natasha to say no to that?

It isn’t until Natasha sneaks out of the room at 4am to get a drink and she’s confronted with Yelena in the kitchen that she realizes what she’s done. Yelena has never told her that anyone is off limits besides you, and she can’t even keep it in her pants for one night? (She knows it’s been four years, but you’ve only approached her like this the one time.)

She tries to act like nothing is different, like she’s just grabbing some water, but Yelena raises an eyebrow at the difference in the air around her sister. She’s not as stupid as the two of you seem to think she is, she’s noticed the downright disgusting tension between the two of you and the horrible lovey dovey eyes her sister makes towards you.

“You break her heart and I break your ribs. Got it?”

Natasha chokes on her water, she would’ve thought she’d be a little more concerned for her heart, but this is fine, “Got it.”

And then Yelena is walking out of the kitchen to go to her own room. On her birthday? You two just had to do it on her birthday? Unbelievable.

Since that night, you and Natasha had gone on a couple of dates and you’ve been trying to spend as much time with each other as possible. You hadn’t slept with each other since, it was hard to find the right opportunity while she was staying with Yelena for the next month while her house was being renovated and your roommate Wanda always seemed to be at your apartment lately.

About a week later you woke up feeling like something was off. You didn’t know what it was until your body was moving on its own accord and you found yourself rushing to the bathroom to empty the contents of your stomach. God, you hoped you weren’t getting sick. As you sat with your back leaning against the cool glass of the shower, you closed your eyes for a second before it hit you.

Natasha didn’t wear a condom.

Oh God, Natasha didn’t wear a condom. You scramble to get yourself up and brush your teeth before rushing out of the bathroom and tugging on a pair of sweatpants and an old college sweater of Natasha’s that she left a couple of nights ago. What time is it? You pat your pockets and then fish out your phone, 7:56am. Okay, the pharmacy should be open by the time you get there.

This is fine, it’s probably nothing. You’re probably just sick, maybe you shouldn’t have eaten as much candy as you did, but Natasha was so happy to get you something you liked and you were really craving it. You tug on your shoes and you’re out the door and walking down the street in less than two minutes.

The walk to the pharmacy is relatively short, you chose an apartment in the city, so nothing is more than a 15 minute walk. Your fingers tap against your thigh as you pick out one of the many options and you walk to the checkouts, but not before grabbing a chocolate bar. You’ve been really wanting one for days now, but that has nothing to do with this, you just like chocolate, that’s all. You groan, what are you even trying to do right now? Convince your subconscious that you’re not pregnant?

The walk back to your apartment seems like it takes forever and you don’t even need to drink a bunch of water because your nerves are making you feel like you’re going to piss your pants anyway.

Wanda chooses the exact moment you start pacing in the bathroom to come out of her room, concealing a yawn behind her hand. “Y/N, why are you doing laps in the bathroom? If there’s a bug somewhere just kill it.”

“No, I’m not– there’s not a bug, Wands. I’m just…” You pause, fidgeting with the hem of your, well, Natasha’s sweatshirt, “I think I might be pregnant.”

A pause.

“You think what?!”

“Don’t say that like that! It’s not a bad thing I think. I just– I just don’t know how Natasha will react.” You wrap your arms around yourself and deflate a little bit, just the idea of Natasha being upset has you acting like a kicked puppy.

Wanda softens and walks towards you, wrapping her arms around you in a hug, “I’m sure Natasha will react just fine. And if she doesn’t then that’s her problem, not yours.” You lean into her and let yourself relax for a minute. You hadn’t known Wanda for as long as Yelena, you only met in your freshman year of college, but you consider her one of your best friends.

“Y/N… I think you should take a look.” Wanda had taken a quick peek at the test over your shoulder, and she squeezes you softly before pulling away.

You turn around and try your hardest not to feel too scared. Either outcome is fine, right?

Two lines.

You were pregnant.

Tears start to prick at your eyes and you’re not sure why, but you find yourself turning and hiding yourself in Wanda’s arms, not able to stop yourself from crying. You only just started properly seeing Natasha, what if she hates you? What if she never wants to see you again? What if–

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. Everything’s okay. She won’t hate you.”

Wanda’s soothing voice reaches your ears and you realize you must have been saying those things out loud. You nod against her chest and sniffle, trying to get yourself to stop crying. You had to tell Natasha, you have to get yourself ready and make yourself look presentable.

Wanda helps you get ready, telling you soothing things every once in a while when you start to worry again, trying to reassure you that Natasha isn’t going to hate you. And, if anything, this is Natasha’s fault anyway, but she doesn’t say that part. She drives you to Yelena’s apartment where Natasha is staying for the time being and gives you a reassuring smile, saying she’ll be waiting right outside if you need her. But if you don’t come out in 15 minutes she’s leaving because she has to go open the bookstore for Darcy.

You give her a weak nod and walk the now intimidating path up to Yelena’s apartment. You stand outside for a whole two minutes before getting the courage to knock. You knew Yelena wasn’t home and that it would be Natasha to answer the door. The blonde went to kickboxing every Saturday morning and wouldn’t be back for at least another hour.

Natasha is a little surprised to see you standing outside her door at 8:30 in the morning, but then she takes in your slightly red eyes and still tear stained cheeks and she’s ushering you inside with an arm around your waist and a concerned look on her face.

“What’s the matter, baby? Are you hurt? What happened? Do you need me to call Yelena? What’s going on?” The words tumble from Natasha’s lips before she can stop them, the need to protect you and make sure you’re safe overpowering anything else she might have wanted to say. Like how cute you look in her sweater.

You shake your head and suddenly there are tears in your eyes again and your bottom lip starts to wobble. “No, p–please don’t call Yelena. I just– I need to talk to you.” You’re trying not to cry again, but you don’t know how to say it. You don’t know how to break the news in a way that won’t destroy the only thing you’ve wanted for the last four years.

The concern in Natasha’s eyes isn’t making this any easier as she takes you over to sit on the couch, sitting next to you and taking your hand in hers, rubbing her thumb over your knuckles. “Alright, we can talk. You can talk to me. What’s going on, sweetheart?”

“I-I…” Your fingers twitch nervously in her hands, “Natasha, I’m pregnant.” And the confession ruins any chance you had of stopping yourself from crying, afraid she’s going to push you away or yell at you or tell you to get out or–

Natasha’s eyes widen and her breathing stops for a moment, you’re pregnant? But you hadn’t slept together since– Oh. Oh.

And then she snaps back to the present where you’re crying and she’s frozen like an idiot. And she’s gotta do something before you come to the wrong conclusion. This should be fine, though, right? She loves you, she can do this. She can do this, can’t she?

“Hey, hey, hey. Look at me.” She speaks softly, cupping your cheeks and wiping your tears with her thumbs. She takes one look at your face and now she’s trying to keep the tears out of her own eyes. “Everything’s gonna be okay, yeah, baby? Everything’s gonna be fine. We’re gonna figure it out.” She brings your head towards her chest and wraps one arm around you while the other strokes your hair. You’re crying harder now, but you think maybe they might be relieved tears, happy ones, even?

“We’re gonna figure it out.” She murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

Yeah, she can do this.

#alice's fics !#natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanov imagine #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x fem reader #natasha romanov x you #natasha romanov smut

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coconut-dreamz · 4 months

Text

king of my heart

"the taste of your lips is my idea of luxury" || tom blyth x singer!reader

a/n: inspired by ts once again !!!

i'm perfectly fine, i live on my own i made up my mind, i'm better off bein' alone

you had spent the last few years being single and throwing yourself into your work. that was evident through the sheer amount of music you'd made in the last five years and the world tours you'd gone on.

after your messy break up a few years ago, you'd sworn off love and relationships lately. though, they did make great inspiration for music. but throwing yourself into your work for the past three years had consequences. you were feeling burnt out after your latest world tour and your manager had strongly urged you to take a break for awhile. not to mention you were in a rut. you hadn't wrote a single song in months. nothing inspired you, all of the songs you tried to write sounded wrong.

we met a few weeks ago now you try on callin' me, baby, like tryin' on clothes

rachel was a good friend of yours, you had met on at a red carpet once and became fast friends. she had recently finished up filming for a project and was in new york. she wanted to meet up with you and introduce you to her cast mates.

that's when you met tom. there was an instant attraction between you two, there was no doubt about it. everyone in the room could feel it. tom, luckily, also lived in new york. but he lived in brooklyn while you lived in manhattan. but he was constantly calling you, asking you to meet up or come over and hang out. nearly every day he was free he'd call you up.

salute to me, i'm your american queen and you move to me like i'm a motown beat and we rule the kingdom inside my room

you two were just hanging out in your bedroom, listening to your vinyl records. stand by me started playing, softly filling the room. "dance with me," tom stands, offering his hand to you. you just smile and agree, standing up. his arm snakes around your waist as your hand makes its way to his shoulder. you lay your head on his chest as you two sway to the music.

"this is nice," you whisper out as the song ends. "i like spending time with you. hours feel like minutes here," he responds as he spins you around, causing you to erupt in giggles at his antics. you continue to dance around the room until the sun sets behind you, lost in your own world with tom. when you were with him, everything else melted into the background. it was like the only thing in focus was tom.

'cause all the boys and their expensive cars with their range rovers and their jaguars never took me quite where you do

you had reluctantly agreed to a date with someone one of your model friends had set you up with. he picked you up from your apartment in his flashy car, drawing attention to you two from everyone around you. you weren't quite used to all this attention, you had been a lot more private in recent years.

the date was absolutely terrible. he took you to some upscale restaurant that served expensive dishes that were only 1-2 bites each. as he drove you back to your place, all you could think of was how you wish you'd just stayed home and gotten take out with tom. you'd be a lot less hungry and a lot more happy if you'd done so.

after being dropped off, you texted gigi that you're never letting her set you up again. after texting her, you called tom. he picked up almost immediately, as if he was waiting for you. "that was the worst date ever!" you shout, once the call connects. all you hear is his melodic laugh in response. "i wish i would've just stayed home and gotten take out. i'm starving. the restaurant we went to didn't fill me at all!”

"how about i come over and pick up something up on the way there? we can watch a movie or two and you can tell me more about how much of a disaster it was." you smile at his suggestion. "that sounds great, i'll see you soon?" you answer, happily. "see you soon, love." he hangs up. you smile, couldn't wait.

and all at once, you are the one i have been waiting for king of my heart, body and soul

being with tom felt easy. you didn't realize it at first, but then all of a sudden he was embedded in every part of your life. being with him was as easy as breathing. it came naturally to the two of you. he had somehow snuck in and captured your heart.

"i love you," you whisper out as the two of you stare up at the stars. you'd decided to go on a camping trip upstate. you were laying on a blanket, cuddling. it just felt right with him. nothing was ever forced. it was simple.

tom sits up abruptly at your words, looking into your eyes "do you mean it?" he asks, unsure. "you're the king of my heart, body and soul." you state, staring back at him. a huge grin making its way onto his face. "i love you, i have for awhile. i was just too scared to say it first. i wasn't sure if you felt the same." he admits, a little shy.

"you are my everything. there's nothing i wouldn't do for you." you admit to him, leaning in and placing a delicate kiss on his lips. you feel him smile into the kiss as he deepens it, pushing you to lay on the blanket and crawling on top of you.

late in the night, the city's asleep your love is a secret i'm hoping, dreaming, dying to keep

"shhh, don't be so loud! it's like 3am." you whisper shout at tom as you two walk through london. it was a stunning city, even more so with him by your side. "i love this woman!!!! i'm so glad she's mine!!!" he shouts into the open air, spinning in circles and laughing. his silliness causes you to laugh at him, playfully slapping him on the chest, trying to get him to shut up.

tomorrow was the world premiere of the ballad of songbirds and snakes. you were so excited for him and the rest of the cast, but there was a selfish part of you that wanted to keep him to yourself. you didn't want him to become the internet's boyfriend or the 'white boy of the month'. you wanted to keep your love a secret from the world.

you wanted to shield the budding love from the cruelty of not only the world, but the tabloids. the press had ruined your previous relationships, breaking the trust you'd previously shared because of false rumors and speculations. you know tom wasn't like that, but you didn't want to be proved wrong. you just wanted to hold onto this secret for a little longer.

change my priorities the taste of your lips is my idea of luxury

some people may have labeled you as materialistic in the past, your countless new shoes and outfits adding fuel to the fire. but, as of late, your priorities had changed. you no longer cared for material goods, the only thing you desired was tom. everything about tom, you wanted. his hugs, his kisses, and especially his love for you. his love would be worth more than anything money could buy you.

is this the end of all the endings? my broken bones are mending with all these nights we're spending

shortly after meeting tom, you were reinvigorated. he was your muse. he mended your heart and gave you inspiration to write once again. no longer were you writing sad songs about ended relationships, but songs confessing your love to him. by the time you had known him for six months, you'd already written enough songs for two 20 song albums and a few extra for deluxe editions.

the more time you spent with him, the more songs you were inspired to write because of him. your agent had wanted to kiss him on the mouth personally for the amount of songs he had inspired you to write after over a year of nothing. your fans would be thrilled to hear you'd be releasing new music after three years of nothing.

"what are you doing there, darling?" tom walks into your office as you play around on the piano and write down the notes you were playing. "just composing a new song. i was inspired during our date last night. i just finished writing the lyrics and now i'm trying to come up with the melody." you answer him, not looking up from the notebook. his eyes widen at your words. "you wrote the lyrics already?" he asks surprised.

you look up from you notebook at this "of course i did, you're my muse. i've completed two albums dedicated to you now." you answer him and continue playing, trying to find the right notes. "you what?" he asks, unaware of his influence on your creativity. you stop playing at this and stand up to face him. "from the moment i have met you, i have written and composed exactly 47 and a half songs. you are my muse, tom blyth. you occupy my mind at all times. i love you" you confess to him with a grin. "my god, i love you." he captures your lips in a searing kiss. he truly was the king of your heart.

#coriolanus snow #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth #tom blyth imagine #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth x you #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you

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qsphyxias · 1 month

Text

Nightwing x Male! Reader (hurt/comfort)

if you fetishize mlm/nblm relationships, get the fuck out of here!

synopsis ; you just broke up with ur bf bc he cheated on u and Nightwing comes to make u feel better.

warnings ; swearing, break ups, venting (not traumatic or too deep) about relationship, manhandle joke, angst? its topic is sad but I think I made it too nice and fluffy

note ; i wanna add more, esp. with pillow talk or whatever but I'm too tired and maybe ill just make another part or smth or edit it

words ; 1.3k+

Your face burned, and your lips trembled against the hand you held up against your moth. You sighed shakily, dropping your head atop your arm leaned up against the railing of your balcony. That was the end of another relationship.

You looked at the wet cement down below, over the thin, black iron railing, your eyes couldn't focus on anything because of the fat tears that obstructed most of your vision. Gravity pulled your tears to the ground, almost pulling you entirely over the rails — you just felt so tired.

The day you've had was just about enough for you to bear. You found out your boyfriend of three years was cheating on you for two of those three years. But the worst part was that you hadn't even found out yourself; he had told you, and he had been the one to break up with you. As if, you were the problem.

You were in the way.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" You murmured under your breath, rage began to well up, and you could feel it in your throat — strangling you, taking your breath and turning it into steam. "I wasted three years on him. Three fucking years of my life!" You backed away from the ledge, looking up at the sky as if it represented the entire world before you. "And for what?"

Despite it all, a part of you wanted him back. Not because you loved him, but because, where else will you find someone? You knew everything about him, and you... well, you hoped he knew just about everything to know about you. But now, all that information is useless. You were scared and alone; how much time did you really have? It's not like some handsome, piece of ass is going to come around and save you.

You slid down on the cold surface of the balcony, sitting down and tucking your knees in as you watched your fingers fidget in front of you. You stopped crying, but now it felt worse than before. Your heart had no means to release all that raw emotion because your body couldn't take the exhaustion.

"Hey, are... you alright?" A gentle hand grabs your shoulder, and your head shoots up to see dark blue eyes, staring at you with nothing but hopeful concern. His hope to somehow make you feel better, and his concern that you are currently sitting on the ground, eyes, nose, and mouth red and swollen.

You don't push away, not at all — in fact, that's the last thing on your mind. Even when it hits you that Nightwing is leaning over you, a knee on the ground and his arm on your shoulder. You're too drained to react properly, you just stare at him.

You pressed your hand on your cheek, murmuring your speech. "Give me a fucking break." Had he arrived at a time — literally any other time — less inconvenient, you probably would have asked him for an autograph and fawned over his arms. He chuckled at your reply, not at all offended by your display of disdain at his appearance. He took a seat next to you on the cold hard ground.

For a couple of minutes, you both just sat there, and you stared off into space as you silently fought with your inner demons to not lash out at him. With an apologetic sigh, withdrawing your attitude from before. "I'm sorry, it's been a rough night- I just found out my boyfriend was cheating on me for two years." Nightwing glanced over as you mentioned a boyfriend, so you weren't straight, huh? That totally won't affect how he sees you.

The man beside you sucked in a sharp breath as you mentioned your situation, immediately feeling terrible as he put himself in your shoes. "Don't worry about it; you deserve a little lashing out." You scoffed affectionately as you wiped your remaining tears away with your sleeve, he was friendly, wasn't he?

"That's nice of you to say." Suddenly, the floor looked much more interesting than looking at the attractive man beside you. He noticed the averted gaze and brought you back to reality by placing his hand on yours. "I'm serious, lash out at me! Whatever you wanna say to him, say to me." He was serious, grinning at his great idea.

"I mean I heard you wailing from miles away; I'm sure you don't have a shortage of things to say." He looked proud of himself. "Dear god — you heard that?" You stood up and backed away from him, with him following you closely. "I think half of Gotham heard that." He teased, watching your ashamed expression with a smile.

"You're kind of an asshole, aren't you?" You said, standing your ground as you taunted him right back. His smile only grew, "I have mixed reviews."

"Alright, Nightwing. I'll take you up on your offer." You crossed your arms and stepped closer to him, "I'll vent."

He rubbed his hands together in response, beckoning you towards him. "Give it to me."

Your face turned beet-red at the sudden conspicuous innuendo, and you paused. Hoping he hadn't noticed, you got back in the zone and tried to imagine your ex's face in place of Nightwing's. "Okay, alright. Well. You're... You're a dick."

Dick laughed, for more reasons than one. "That's it? Have at me! Don't be shy." You frowned, "Fine then, you're not just a dick. You're also cruel." You looked into his eyes, seeing your ex's face before you instead of Nightwing's.

To fuel the fire, you channeled all those feelings into your speech. "You broke my heart for no reason when you could have left me when you met him. And- Instead, you wasted my time, thinking I was in this... This loving relationship with a man I was going to marry — " Before you could keep rambling on, you felt strong arms around you, grounding you. You hadn't noticed you were trembling from the emotion until you felt the calm, still body against yours.

You also hadn't noticed how much you absolutely needed that hug.

Hesitating, your arms hovered over his back before you tenderly hugged him back, sinking into his body knowing he could still hold you from his already tight grip. You wondered if you'd ever be hugged like this again now that you didn't have a boyfriend. Whenever your ex did decide to hold you like this, it wasn't often.

Sleep took over your body as his warmth may have reminded you too much of your sheets, and the comfort of your bed. Maybe he reminded you of home.

"... Was that too much?" You murmured against the chestpiece of his suit. He shook his head, not wanting to see your expression just yet. Your frown and your trembling lips broke his heart.

"I think I'm tired." Dick took that to heart and picked you up with ease, walking over to your balcony door and stepping in. "Oh- so you're just gonna manhandle me then?" You declared eyes half-lidded from exhaustion. For a second, he was worried he had crossed a boundary. "Well, I'm okay with that." Now he wasn't so worried.

Dick chuckled as he placed you down on your bed, turning off the light beside you and moving to exit your apartment. He stopped in his tracks as he heard you groan. "Wait, come back..! Stay with me. Please?" He turned around to see you pouting on your bed, knowing you were trying your absolute best to extract pity out of him to make him stay.

"It'll be my first night in three years without a warm body sleeping next to me; you're really gonna leave a guy hanging?" He rolled his eyes as you played the break-up card, waltzing over with a defeated look on his face. You on the other hand, had adorned an expression of joy.

"You regret stopping by my balcony, don't you?"

"... Far from it, actually."

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clemscabin · 4 months

Text

Dom!Abby x Reader : Abby eats you out until you cum …

warnings: Slight Sadomasochism, forced stimulation, degredation, Hate-sex, fingering

*disclaimer* this is like the third smut fic ive ever wrote so erm it might be a little bad! anyway if you want to skip directly to the porn look for the ‘‼️‼️‼️’ ! leave suggestions and enjoy

_______________________________________________

It was the brisk morning of april 12th. You were walking alone in the mountains of what used to be the quiet, dainty town of los osos, California. You were on the road for 3 weeks, travelling from seattle to the coast. Trying to find the people who the WLF had made some sort of weird deal with. it wasnt easy, you were supposed to be traveling with someone, but you felt like you didnt need her. you could handle a mission on your own, right?

what irked you more was that your almost-was partner was your competitor. Abby Anderson. she’d been nice to you, she considered you two to be close, but youd eventually had grown jealous of her. her physique, her skillful way of getting the job done, her attractiveness.. yet still, even in your jealousy, something made you wish you could…was it be like her? be with her? be friends with her? honestly you didnt know and you could care less. she was the least of your problems.the leaves crunched underneath your boots, but then suddenly you heard a noise which made you stop dead in your tracks. “What the fuck made that noise?” you thought to yourself, slightly intimidated. You turned around to see a tall woman with a bulky figure and a leather coat, staring back down at you. you jumped back, not expecting someone to be behind you, but a wave of relief washed over you as you realized it was just Abby.

“Suprise”, said a low voice. “What the fuck Abby you scared me half to death?” “Sorry bout’ that , i didnt mean ta’ scare you.” she said with a laugh. “Whatever lets just get this shit over with.” you huffed. you hated her, hated the way she followed you, hated her smile, hated the way she stood behind you like some kind of bodygaurd. she practically towered over you. you needed to get it out of your system, you needed to desperately. you wanted to fuck her, but not nescesarily in a loving way, you wanted it to hurt. deep down you knew it was wrong to feel that way, she just made you angry. shed always been loyal and kind, maybe thats the reason you were still somehow drawn to her.

You walked with her for ages, talking about all sorts of things, from the mission, to your love life, until you stumbled upon a few houses just around the top of the mountains. “Its getting kinda late, why dont we stay here? just for tonight, well be back on the road by morning.” Abby asked, her Greenish-blue eyes looking you up and down, before meeting her eyes with yours and smiling gently. “Yeah sure..whatever..” You replied, desperately trying to ignore the cocky smile on her face.

Abby knew something was wrong. she couldnt quite figure out what it was? was it because she came anyway? Nah, she knew youd eventually need her. you both stepped inside one of the houses, making sure it was clear for the night. inside there was a living room, a bedroom, a kitchen, and a bathroom. kinda wimpy for a house but nonetheless it was better than nothing. You sat on the couch while abby took off her bulky jacket, revealing a almost see through white tank top. it flattered her muscular body perfectly. You felt your cheeks heat up, and started squirming, trying to adjust yourself without her noticing. But of course she noticed.

‼️‼️‼️

“Whats wrong, sweetheart…” she said calmly. “are you tired…? or do you just want sm’more?” she giggled. You tried to laugh it off but she sat next to you, grabbing on your thighs subconsciously, which just made you feel horny. You let out a sigh, thinking to yourself if you were really about to let her fuck you as if you were some sort of prostitute. yeah you totally were. A shiver ran down your spine as her cold hands traced over your thighs, your body yearned for her touch. “Lets make this quick, what do you say princess.?” She said in a low, raspy voice. You didnt wanna wait anymore, eagerly ripping your clothes off. itd been way too long since youd been touched, and maybe a hate fuck was what you needed?

She parted your thighs, removing your underwear which exposed your throbbing cunt. She could practically smell your exitement. Taking one finger and in one swoop, grazing over your heat. you Gasped, looking down at Abby, who just as you made eye contact buried her face into your sopping wet pussy. Her skilled tounge Lapping ferociously at your clit, Brought you close in a matter of seconds. just as you were about to finish she pulled away, a string of spit connecting the two to eachother. “Whyd you stop?” She glared up at you. “Stop fucking squiriming, Slut.” She grappled at your thighs holding them still, and immediately went back to eating you out. You felt tears well up in your eyes, you grabbed her hair, shoving her face even deeper, and grinding on her , desperate for any friction you could get. Her muffled grunts becoming more intense and focused as she inserted 2 fingers inside of your aching hole. “ahah..a-bby..” was all you managed to get out. you felt your orgasm approaching rapidly, Bucking your hips up, crying out for her to keep going. “Hnh…f-faster…a-ab-by..m’gonna cum…”

She looked up for a moment at the mess she was able to create, huffing under her breath, “fucking whore. cant get enough.” and diving back down, her tounge swirling on your sensitive bud. Your high hit you like a ton of bricks, and you came all over her face, exhausted. but she didnt stop, she kept going, forcing you to take the rest of her rough licking, riding out your orgasm. when she finally stopped she made eye contact with you and licked your juices off her fingers, and kissing you, forcing you to taste yourself. “good job princess… you did so well.” She planted a kiss on your neck before giving you her jacket, and cleaning up the mess you had made. you laid on top of her, and found yourself secure in the knowledge shed be there when you awoke.

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A/N

i want to ride abbys face

This was pretty fun to write, leave some ideas or tips pretty please🙏🏽🙏🏽

#abby anderson #the last of us #abby tlou #smut #the last of us fanfiction #abby the last of us #abby anderson smut #hate sex

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yuujispinkhair · 1 year

Text

From Sukuna, made with love

Christmas is your favorite time of the year. You love the coziness, the warmth, the love. But unfortunately, all this feels less magical when you know you will spend Christmas Eve alone. And so you desperately try to find someone to keep you company via your dating app. But maybe the real magic of Christmas is already right in front of you, brewing your favorite coffee and baking your favorite cupcakes while wearing a far too smug smirk and complaining too loudly about the stupid Santa hat he has to wear at work.

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: fluff, Christmas AU, Coffee Shop AU Word Count: 6.5k Warnings: none, just lots of fluff, flirting and kissing. This is a non-curses AU. Sukuna is the barista from hell to some of his customers but not to you :) All characters are of age. My blog contains 18+ content. Minors don't interact.

There is now art for this story!! Thank you so much to the lovely @irideste for drawing barista!Sukuna!!

This is my contribution to my sweet friend @shirohyorin's Ficmas Calendar! Thank you so much for hosting this cute collab, Loni! I hope my story can add to the coziness you are spreading over our dash. I wish everyone a sweet December and merry Christmas if you celeberate it!

December 1

The doorbell jingles softly as you enter your favorite coffee shop. It makes you smile because the sound reminds you of Christmas. Like Santa's sleigh with the reindeer. The smell that drifts towards you adds even more to the Christmassy feeling. The rich taste of coffee and hot chocolate laced with cinnamon and gingerbread spice.

You sigh happily. This is your little safe place, your sanctuary every morning before you start your hectic work day. And especially now, when the countdown to Christmas has begun, and the pretty Christmas decorations and lights are up, this little coffeeshop all in white is the coziest place you know.

You smile to yourself, already looking forward to a little treat before work, a gingerbread latte, and maybe a cinnamon roll. You look over at the counter, expecting to see the owner or one of the usual baristas. But you blink in surprise when your gaze lands on someone else.

A new guy.

He stands out in the white interior like a black sheep amidst its white herd. He is dressed all in black and is tall and muscular with an athletic build. His hair is pink and styled in a fashionable-looking undercut. His ears are pierced several times, and his face is adorned with filigree black tattoed lines.

He looks intimidating. Strikingly attractive but scary. And definitely very out of place in the middle of all the sparkly white and silver Christmas decorations.

The woman before you grabs her bag of cookies and leaves, giving you space to step up to the counter.

Your breath catches when a pair of pretty maroon eyes meets yours. They are framed by long black lashes and a second pair of eyes, tattoed ones, black and red. But what strikes you the most is the intensity with which those eyes look at you. As if the owner of those eyes can see right into your soul.

The corners of his eyes crinkle, and you realize that the new guy is smirking at you, looking almost infuriatingly smug, as if he knows how flustered you are by his gaze.

Even his voice is mocking you. A sexy lazy drawl that should rather be used in the bedroom than in a cozy little coffee shop at 7:00 in the morning!

"Good morning, princess. What can I get you?"

"Sukuna, you shouldn't call customers pet names!"

"Oh, shut up, Yuuta! Get back into the kitchen or something and stop getting on my nerves. I'm just being nice. Isn't that what is expected of me here?"

You watch the little quarrel with wide eyes until those maroon eyes snap back to you. The new guy, Sukuna apparently, laughs softly, revealing two rows of straight white teeth. And a pink tongue that curls upwards to press its tip to his front teeth, letting you catch a glimpse of something sparkly in his mouth. You realize only a split second later that Sukuna has a tongue piercing. You don't know why this fact makes your pulse flutter.

Sukuna cocks his head, fixing you with his intense gaze and a lifted eyebrow, like a cat checking you out, deciding whether you are worthy of its presence,

"So, let's try this again, huh? What do you want to order?"

"Um...I...a ... a large gingerbread latte, please...but can I get extra cinnamon, please?"

"Sure, anything you want, princess."

He smirks at you again before walking over to the coffeemaker. He is really tall. And his skinny black jeans are snug on his thighs and firm butt, making you silently curse yourself for checking out your new barista's ass. Sukuna is looking at you over his broad shoulder and asking in that velvety voice,

"What's your name?"

You tell him, and he nods, grabbing the pen next to the coffeemaker and scribbling your name on a paper cup before he starts preparing your order.

A few moments later, Sukuna puts the cup in front of you with another big grin on his handsome face.

"Here, enjoy!"

His long fingers are still wrapped around the cup. He's wearing black nail polish. Of course, he is! You almost snort. But his handwriting is surprisingly elegant.

You take the cup from him and give him a polite smile,

"Thank you. Have a nice day."

"Have a nice day too, sweetheart. Make sure to come back tomorrow."

His voice is filled with amusement, and the cheeky wink he gives you is absolutely not the way the other baristas treat the customers.

You quickly leave, wondering why your face feels so warm. It must be the heating in the coffee shop.

December 2

"Good morning, princess. I'll get your order."

You are greeted by a smirking Sukuna, who is leaning casually against the shiny white counter, bracing himself on his elegant hands. The sleeves of his black sweater are pushed up to his elbows, exposing a pair of tattoed forearms. Tattooed and toned.

You stare at them for a moment too long before you lift your face to blink still a bit sleepily at Sukuna. His words register in your mind, and you frown in confusion.

"But...I didn't order anything yet."

"Oh, you don't have to. I know what you want."

His maroon eyes sparkle teasingly. You hate the way you get so flustered by a stupid comment like that. But something about the way Sukuna looks at you with so much confidence and smugness makes it hard not to get nervous.

Sukuna chuckles and turns around to walk over to the coffeemaker. When he comes back to place the paper cup in front of you, you see your name written on it correctly with a smiling face next to it, and Sukuna announces in a triumphant tone,

"Large gingerbread latte with extra cinnamon."

He really remembered your name and your coffee order. You can't help but be impressed. It took his coworkers weeks to remember those things.

You leave the coffee shop with a smile, sighing happily as you take the first sip of your gingerbread latte with extra cinnamon. Perfect! Exactly like you want it.

December 6

You are in a bad mood this morning as you wait in line in the little coffee shop. Your thoughts are occupied with what your workday holds in store for you today. So you barely manage a weak smile when it's your turn to place your order.

Sukuna raises an eyebrow,

"Rough morning ahead, princess?"

You nod, oddly touched that he noticed something is amiss.

"Yeah, I have a meeting with my boss today, and he will probably give me even more work."

Sukuna srunches his nose,

"In that case, you need something sweet to get you through the day. Take one of the red velvet cupcakes! They are the best. Trust me on that."

Before you can reply, he is already leaning down to grab a plate with a delicious-looking cupcake out of the glass display. He puts it on the counter in front of you with a boyish grin.

"Something sweet for a sweet girl."

You feel like an idiot when you drop the money you want to give him and have to pick it up from the floor with your ears ringing from the blood rushing into your head. Sukuna's laughter still carries through the coffee shop when you have already reached the door.

December 7

"There she is! Hey, how did you like the cupcake? I didn't promise too much, did I?"

You can't help but laugh as Sukuna greets you with those words.

"It was one of the best cupcakes I ever ate! Thank you for recommending it."

He pouts, huffing in mock exasperation as he crosses his toned arms in front of his defined chest.

"Only one of the best? Then I'll make it even more delicious next time, so it will become the best cupcake you ever had. I'm not ok with only being second best!"

That makes you stop and raise your eyebrows,

"Wait, did you bake them?"

Sukuna laughs and nods smugly. There's a proud twinkle in his eyes.

"Yeah, I did. Tell me what you want me to change about the recipe, and the next batch will be the custom-made cupcake of your dreams."

Somehow you have no doubt that he is ambitious enough to really do that. And so you put a finger to your lips and lift your eyes in a playful thinking gesture,

"Hmmm, in that case, I really would love dark chocolate frosting instead of the vanilla one."

"Ok! My favorite customer wants dark chocolate. She'll get dark chocolate!"

You can't help but laugh at Sukuna's words, and hours later, when you are already sitting at your desk at work, his low playful voice still plays in your head. "My favorite customer," he said.

His favorite, huh?

A smile lifts the corners of your lips. Sukuna is definitely well on the way to becoming your favorite barista too.

As rude as he is, he is also pretty charming. You have to admit that. He definitely manages to lift your mood before a long workday. And maybe you are looking forward to his teasing comments and smug smirk every morning. Just a tiny bit.

December 8

The first thing you see when entering the coffee shop is Sukuna's smirk, and he lifts a tattoed hand to wave at you and give you one of his teasing winks.

You chuckle softly and wave back at him as you get in line behind the other customers.

When you are only one customer away from the counter, the man in front of you steps to the side, allowing you to get a good look at the display stand. Behind the glass is a delicious-looking tray of red velvet cupcakes. This time with a dark chocolate topping, exactly as you wished for.

Your lips lift in a smile. And then your gaze lands on the little chalkboard in front of the cupcake tray. There is written in Sukuna's elegant handwriting, "(Y/N)'s dream cupcakes".

December 10

When you enter the coffee shop this morning, you are greeted by the sight of red amongst the otherwise white interior. The two employees you see both wear bright red Santa hats.

Not Sukuna, though. He chooses that moment to stride out of the kitchen, carrying a baking sheet with Christmas cookies, looking as un-Christmassy as usual.

"Hey, Sukuna, put the hat back on! You know we have to wear them! Same rules for everyone!"

Sukuna rolls his eyes at his coworker as he places the cookies in the glass display.

"Tsk, I won't do that shit. It looks ridiculous."

His maroon gaze meets yours, and he grins.

"Let's ask a customer! Hey, princess, I'll let you be the judge."

And before you can say anything, Sukuna already grabs his discarded Santa hat and puts it on his pink hair. His eyes sparkle challengingly as he raises an eyebrow at you and points one long tattoed finger to his head,

"What do you think? This looks stupid, doesn't it?"

You stare at him wide-eyed, feeling like a deer caught in the headlights with all eyes on you. Especially that pair of maroon eyes that fixes you with an intense gaze and a smirk so attractive it should be illegal.

Your mind isn't functioning properly with all this attention on you before you even had your first fix of caffeine. And so you just blurt out what comes to your mind,

"I think it looks really good on you!"

It does. Everything looks good on Sukuna! He is gorgeous. He could even wear some reindeer antlers and a glowing red nose and pose as Rudolph, and he would still look hot!

Maybe your answer was a bit too enthusiastic, though, judging by the smug look on Sukuna's face. You feel embarrassed, averting your gaze quickly and feeling much too hot suddenly. But Sukuna just laughs.

"Well, in that case, I'll leave it on. Just for you, sweetheart."

The loud "Ooooooh!!" coming from the people in the waiting line behind you makes you wish the ground would swallow you whole, but at the same time, you cannot help but snicker softly and grin as you take your coffee from Sukuna.

The grin won't leave your face even when you are already on your train to work.

December 12

Today you chose to pay the little coffee shop a visit after work. It's already pretty late, but you can't bring yourself to get up from your comfy seat at your favorite table that lets you watch the wintery street. People rush past the coffee shop on their way back home from work. Some carry big bags filled with Christmas presents, probably. You see small children on their parents' hands, pointing excitedly at the Christmas lights installed on the street lamps and the buildings.

It started to snow an hour ago, and now the trees lining the street are covered in fluffy-looking powdery snow. You watch, mesmerized, as big snowflakes slowly soar down from the sky.

It's so comfortable here in the coffee shop. Warm and cozy. You take a sip from your coffee before closing the e-mail you have been responding to. And now your finger lands on another app.

Tokyo Hearts – The dating app for lonely city hearts.

You open the app and get greeted by their current seasonal welcome message. You don't want to be alone on the merriest day of the year? Find a date for Christmas Eve here and discover true love.

You sigh. If only it was so easy! As much as you love Christmas time, it also gives you a little pang this year because you know you will be lonely on Christmas Eve.

Or maybe not! A notification pops up, telling you there is a new message for you.

The guy who sent it looks cute. And he works in an animal shelter, which makes him sound like the type of guy you could like.

Your finger hovers over the reply button, thinking hard about what you could message him back when a low voice next to your ear makes you jump,

"Are you looking for a boyfriend online, princess?"

You squeal loudly and almost drop your phone, struggling to catch it before it falls into your coffee.

Your gaze snaps up to Sukuna's tall figure, seeing him grin that insufferable grin at you.

You hurriedly lock your phone screen while trying to fight the embarrassment washing over you. As if Sukuna caught you doing something dirty.

"W...what are you doing over here, Sukuna?"

Sukuna graces you with a shit-eating teasing grin as he replies,

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe I work here. Maybe I am being a good employee for once and checking on my customers to see if they are happy in our wonderful coffee shop or if they have another wish. Crazy, I know!"

His maroon eyes are full of mischief as he leans casually against your table.

You huff and roll your eyes,

"Wow, I guess I am talking to the employee of the month. But I don't need anything at the moment, thank you."

Sukuna laughs at your reply, but he doesn't leave. Instead, he shoves his hands into the pocket of the apron he is wearing over his black jeans and sweater and eyes you with a strange look on his handsome face.

"Be careful if you want to meet up with one of those guys from your little dating app. You never know what kind of idiots hide behind that screen."

That makes you blink up at him, surprised at the uncharacteristically serious tone of his usually so playful and teasing voice. Sukuna is towering over you with his tall height, but the bright red Santa hat atop his pink hair makes him look cute instead of intimidating today.

And his concern is touching. You find yourself nodding slowly and smiling gratefully at him.

"I'll be careful. Thank you, Sukuna."

December 13

Your date with the animal shelter guy is a disaster.

You asked him to meet you in the coffee shop, and at first glance animal shelter guy is cute. But it only takes about ten minutes to realize that a cute face doesn't make a cute personality.

He is annoying. A know-it-all who keeps talking over you, making fun of your taste in movies and music, scrunching his nose at your job, and even looking down on the gingerbread latte with the extra cinnamon you love so much.

Not even half an hour into the date, you already know you never want to see him again. But he refuses to get the hint even when you start responding with only one-worded answers. You have a feeling he even prefers that you don't talk anymore because, most of all, he likes to listen to himself. And so he keeps on talking, sharing his opinions with you about this and that.

You zone out and let your gaze wander across the coffee shop and over to the counter, where Sukuna's tall figure is leaning against the wall with his arms crossed in front of his broad chest. His maroon eyes meet yours. He has been watching your table, you realize.

He raises one eyebrow curiously, and then his gaze slips to your date and then back to you with a knowing grin. He lifts his right hand and makes a throat-slitting gesture.

You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing out loud, but your eyes sparkle amusedly at him as you nod softly.

Sukuna pushes himself off the wall and grabs a tray with a large coffee cup that his coworker just put on the counter, making said coworker complain loudly. But Sukuna ignores him and, to your astonishment, starts walking toward your table.

Your eyes widen in foreboding as Sukuna stops next to your table, smiling down at animal shelter guy. It's a dangerous smile. And his low voice is sugary sweet, dripping with fake politeness,

"Here is your order, sir."

Your date lifts his head to snap at Sukuna,

"What do you mean!? I didn't order anything."

Sukuna's smirk grows wider as he stands there in all his glory, tall and gorgeous, looking intimidating with all his tattoos and piercings and the toned muscles of his biceps flexed from balancing the tray.

He cocks his head, eyeing your date with an amused expression on his handsome face that reminds you of a cat playing with a mouse,

"Aww, you didn't? Well, I guess this is on the house, then. Enjoy."

And with that, Sukuna flicks his long fingers against the large coffee cup, making it tip over.

You watch in fascinated horror as the coffee spills out of the cup and gushes over animal shelter guy's shirt.

"What the fuck!!?? Can't you be more careful!??"

Your date jumps up from his seat, hands twisted in his soaking wet shirt while he glares daggers at Sukuna, who just watches him with a satisfied grin.

You can't help but laugh but try to hide it by coughing into your hand while you watch the scene before you.

Animal shelter guy is now gesturing wildly with his hands, spitting insults at Sukuna.

But Sukuna just smiles devilishly at him and informs him in a dangerously soft voice,

"I want you to walk out that door now and never come back."

"I will NOT do that! Who do you think you are? I want to talk to your boss!"

That makes Sukuna laugh,

"Oh, I can do anything I want. My shift, my rules. And you are banned for a lifetime. Bye bye loverboy."

Sukuna jerks his chin towards the door and adds,

"You better not make me drag you out."

His gaze is stern now. The smile is gone. And apparently, your date finally gets the hint that he shouldn't get on Sukuna's wrong side. He scrambles to grab his jacket and hurries towards the door without a glance back,

Sukuna calls after him,

"And don't ever contact her again! I will find out about it if you do!"

You spend the next hour chatting with your favorite barista and eating a red velvet cupcake which he brings to your table with the words:

"On the house because you deserve that after having to listen to that loser for longer than a minute."

When you leave, you smile and call out softly,

"Thank you, Sukuna."

His answering smile is so genuine and pretty that it makes your breath catch in your throat.

December 14

You have a dream where you are at a speed-dating event in the coffee shop, and Sukuna walks from table to table and pours various drinks over every potential date partner.

December 15

You can already spot Sukuna from outside the coffee shop. He stands out, as usual, dressed all in black, tall and athletic, with pastel-colored pink hair and black tattoos.

But you realize immediately that there's an important detail missing. Where is the Santa hat he is supposed to wear?

You scrunch your nose. Maybe he decided to fuck the rules after all. It would suit him. You shake your head in amusement and push the door open.

The little bell jingles, and the comforting smell of coffee and Christmas wraps you in its cozy embrace.

And a pair of maroon eyes instantly meets yours.

Your heart does a weird thing. It throbs.

And Sukuna strides over to the counter and grabs something off it. His Santa hat, you realize a moment later, when he puts it on his head while grinning broadly at you.

The gesture makes you laugh, and when it's your turn to place your order, you can't help but comment teasingly,

"I see you are following your boss' wishes. Good boy."

At the beginning of the month, you wouldn't have dared talk like that to Sukuna. But by now, the two of you have established quite the playful banter, so teasing him back a little won't hurt, you assume.

Sukuna throws his head back, laughing loudly, revealing his slightly pointy canines and the silver tongue piercing that glitters in the light of the coffee shop. His voice is a low, seductive purr when he answers,

"Oh, I'm not wearing that stupid hat for my boss. I'm only wearing it for you."

And once again, you leave the coffee shop with a big grin and a fluttery feeling in your stomach.

December 16

There's a small heart doodled onto your coffee-to-go cup.

You spot it in the middle of a meeting when you play with the cup in your hand and turn it to look at your name in Sukuna's elegant handwriting.

A heart.

It's red.

You didn't even know they have a red pen in the coffee shop.

When your boss asks you a question, you stutter because you have no idea what he is talking about.

The paper cup stays on your desk even after it is empty.

December 17

The 17th day of December is the day when the "red velvet incident" happens.

You're standing in the waiting line, smiling to yourself as you already look forward to your gingerbread latte and a yummy red velvet cupcake. Of course, the ones with the dark chocolate frosting. The ones Sukuna always bakes for you now.

But your smile wavers when you catch a glimpse of the display and see that only one cupcake is left. And, of course, the guy in front of you orders a red velvet cupcake right now.

You silently curse and already try to come up with a replacement when Sukuna looks the guy dead in the eye and informs him,

"We are out of red velvet."

You blink. The other customer is just as surprised as you are because his head snaps from Sukuna to the cupcake and back again.

"Um, no, there is still one left."

Sukuna shakes his head,

"No."

"What do you mean? It's right there."

"It's not available."

"B...but.."

Sukuna lets out an irritated breath and straightens up, crossing his toned arms in front of his chest. His maroon eyes glitter dangerously as he glares at the customer,

"Do you want to be a problem? When I tell you there is no red velvet cupcake available, then there is none available. Now order something else or leave!"

Your eyes widen, and you watch in stunned amusement as the man stares at Sukuna for a long moment before he takes the hint and nervously asks for a cinnamon cupcake instead before hurriedly leaving the coffee shop, probably never to return again.

You step up to the counter. The same maroon eyes that were so unrelenting only a moment ago twinkle amusedly at you now, and the face that was so stern and threatening, is now lighting up in such a genuine and dazzling smile that it makes you feel a bit lightheaded.

"Hey, princess. Fancy a red velvet cupcake?"

December 19

It's hard to focus on work today.

The paper cup standing in the middle of your desk is just too distracting. Maybe not the paper cup itself, but definitely the message that is written under your name.

From Sukuna, made with love.

A stick-figure is doodled next to it, with a grin on its tattoed face and a Santa hat on its head.

And somehow, your heart beats a bit too fast.

December 20

You roam through your dating app just like every night before you sleep. But you skip all the guys it suggests to you. They are all lacking something. Even though you can't tell what it is you don't like about them. They all seem nice and good-looking. So what is it that you are missing?

But in your dream that night, you see yourself sending a message to a very familiar guy with pink hair and tattoos on his handsome face.

December 22

"So, did you meet anyone new on your little dating app, princess?"

Sukuna's gaze burns into yours, making you gulp hard before you manage to answer.

"Um, yeah, I have been exchanging some messages with someone. He asked me to be his Christmas Eve date."

Yesterday morning you woke up to a message from a good-looking businessman who rather straightforwardly asked you to be his date for Christmas Eve since he didn't like spending the evening alone.

As unromantic as the message was, you replied to him and agreed. After all, everything was better than being alone on that day. And this way, two lonely hearts wouldn't have to be so alone on that special day.

You thought you would feel relief upon finding someone to keep you company on Christmas Eve. After all, this was the sole reason why you downloaded that dating app. You were scared to spend this special evening alone. So you should be glad you found someone who wants to take you on a date. Right?

But why do you feel so unsure about it all of a sudden now that you are standing here in front of Sukuna? Why does it feel so wrong?

There's a strange twinkle in Sukuna's pretty eyes, and his smug expression wavers for a split second, but then he huffs softly, and his arrogant smirk is back in place. His soft, teasing laughter fills the air,

"Good for you. But I hope this isn't another loser like the last guy. Bring him here, ok? So I can have an eye on him. You know I'm excellent at getting rid of your failed dates."

Your fingers touch Sukuna's when you reach out to take the paper cup from him. His fingers are warm, and only the silver of the rings he's wearing feels slightly cool to the touch.

His eyes still look deeply into yours. They are an enticing shade of brown you have never seen on anyone else before. Maroon, like rich red wine, dangerous and warm at the same time. Framed by pretty black lashes and the filigree tattoos on his face.

Sukuna still hasn't pulled his hand away. And your fingers are still lightly wrapped around his, not making a move either to take the cup from him.

Only when Sukuna's coworker yells from the kitchen that a fresh tray of Christmas cookies is ready, do the two of you pull away.

When you leave the coffee shop to run towards the train station, you can't help but let a treacherous thought slip into your mind.

What if your date for Christmas Eve had pink hair and a smug smirk and made the best red velvet cupcakes you ever tasted? Would you feel happier about your date then?

You know the answer but forbid yourself to think about it.

December 23

"Do you have any plans for Christmas Eve, Sukuna?"

You curse yourself for asking. You didn't want to give in to the urge, but you couldn't stop obsessing over it. What is your favorite barista doing on that day? Does he have a date himself? Will he leave the coffee shop behind to meet some beautiful girl or boy and take them on a date, making them laugh and flirt with them until they are so flustered they can only stutter? Will he kiss someone under a mistletoe? Will he take someone home and keep them warm in his strong arms while the snow falls down over the city?

The thought makes an uncomfortable knot form in your stomach.

Please don't say you are going on a date! Please don't say you are meeting someone else!

"No, I don't. I took the evening shift. I'll be here, blessing the love-drunk couples with my presence. The best Christmas gift, I dare say."

He winks at you, sounding smug and teasing like ever, but you feel like there is a little edge to the comment.

You are already at work when it hits you: Sukuna took the evening shift. He will be here tomorrow when you meet your date.

December 24

Christmas Eve.

The time for couples. The time for love and romantic dates.

And yet you are sitting alone at your favorite table in the coffee shop.

Your date is already twenty minutes late.

The truth is you aren't even sure you still want him to show up. Or that you ever wanted him to show up at all. Because isn't all of this just a farce anyway?

You aren't interested in that guy. You don't know him and don't want to get to know him. Your heart doesn't beat faster when you think of him. There aren't any butterflies in your tummy when you see his pictures. You have no warm feeling in your chest when you hear his voice. He doesn't make you laugh. He doesn't make you look forward to talking to him. He doesn't know your favorite coffee order or that you like dark chocolate frosting on your red velvet cupcakes.

So what are you even doing here? It's an uncomfortable truth but one you have to face. You only wanted to meet him because you didn't want to be alone on Christmas Eve.

But is this the right way to do it? Fight loneliness with a meaningless date?

It was stupid to do this. And now you are sitting here amidst all those happy couples, clutching your coffee cup tightly in your hands, feeling the sadness wash over you.

So stupid.

How could you think that you could force yourself to have a romantic Christmas Eve?

You get startled out of your misery when Sukuna suddenly plops down on the bench on the other side of your table.

"He's not coming, is he?"

His beautiful maroon eyes are watching you carefully.

You bite your lip and shake your head, feeling tears gather in your eyes. You feel so small and pathetic, sitting here all alone while around you all the couples have their romantic dates. And all you managed was to get stood up by some random guy you weren't even interested in. It's so embarrassing. Surly Sukuna thinks the same.

But his eyes narrow at your words, and he reaches out to put his large hand on top of yours, giving it a short but reassuring squeeze.

"What an asshole! He doesn't know what he's missing."

"It's... it's ok, I guess. I didn't really like him anyway. I don't even know him. I just...I didn't want to be alone on Christmas Eve. That's why I wanted to meet someone on that stupid dating app."

"You aren't alone, princess. I'm right here! I'll be your Christmas Eve date!"

The smirk is back on Sukuna's face, looking so handsome and charming that it makes your heart skip a beat. And his words...

You blink at him, feeling heat spread through your body. Is he serious?

You eye him shyly, not sure if this is just part of your usual banter or something else. But there is a softness on Sukuna's tattoed features you have never seen there before. As if sensing your insecurities, Sukuna adds with a smile,

"I mean it, princess. I would have asked you anyways if you didn't tell me you already had a date. And come on, I am much better than any of those guys in your dating app! With me, you'll experience the ultimate Christmas magic! So, say yes, and I'm all yours."

Laughter bubbles out of your mouth. The gloominess from a moment ago is already forgotten as you smile at your favorite barista and nod softly,

"Ok, how could I say no to an offer like that?"

Sukuna's answering laugh is warm and genuine.

"Good girl. You won't regret it. Give me five minutes, and I'll make this the best Christmas Eve of your life!"

And with that being said, he gets up and walks over to the counter. You watch him across the coffee shop, feeling your pulse race and smiling from ear to ear at the fluttery feeling you have in your stomach when Sukuna's gaze meets yours across the room, and he winks at you.

He comes back after a few minutes carrying a tray that's overflowing with red velvet cupcakes, Christmas cookies, and two slices of Christmas cake as well as your gingerbread latte with extra cinnamon. He sets it down on the table and sits down across from you with a big cheeky grin.

"Merry Christmas, princess."

He looks so pretty with his glittering maroon eyes and boyish smirk. And his low voice is gentle and playful, making it impossible not to smile brightly at him.

"You are actually really nice. Do you know that, Sukuna?"

"Oh, I can be nice if I want. But don't tell anyone. I prefer it if they are scared of me. It's more fun."

Both of you laugh at that, and after that, you fall into a comfortable conversation while sharing the delicious Christmas treats and sipping coffee. It feels so natural to be here with Sukuna. He makes you laugh and roll your eyes in mock exasperation at his arrogant comments, but your heart feels so full at everything he says, at the familiarity of it.

And you realize at that moment that this is what you have been looking forward to every morning for the last few weeks. These flirty comments, that smug smirk, those warm maroon eyes that always sparkle so mischievously.

And all the nice little things Sukuna did for you. And finally, you let yourself think those thoughts you used to consider treacherous. You let yourself feel those things you thought would lead nowhere. You let yourself admit that you like him.

You enjoy Sukuna's company. You like the way he talks and smirks and is so insufferable in the most attractive and irresistible way. You think he is the most charming person you have ever met. And as tough as he appears at first glance, he is actually caring and sweet when you don't let yourself get tricked by his rough attitude.

Another customer chooses that moment to clear his throat loudly before he addresses Sukuna,

"Hey, um, can I order?"

Sukuna musters him with a cold look, his face a stony mask.

"No, you can't. Don't you see I'm on a date too? If you want more cake, just go behind the counter and get some. Put the money on the table."

The corners of his lips lift in a grin when his gaze meets yours again, and you laugh softly, shaking your head,

"Aren't you going to get into trouble with your boss?"

Sukuna shrugs,

"I don't care. And the owner is actually my cousin. So as much as I have tried, he hasn't fired me yet. I think you'll be stuck with me as your barista."

"Oh, that's good to hear! You're my favorite, after all!"

"I know. Who else would prepare your coffee so perfectly and bake your dream cupcakes? I'm the only one who gets it right, don't I?"

And yes, it's true, you realize at that moment. Sukuna is the only one who gets it right. Not just your coffee order and your favorite cupcakes. He also gets it right when it comes to making you feel happy. He is the only one who gives you this magical Christmas feeling that you crave. He has been doing it the whole month.

And suddenly, you are filled with so much affection for your gorgeous barista. You catch yourself wishing there was a mistletoe above your table so you could seal this Christmas Eve date with a kiss.

You look around the coffee shop for one, thinking you are sneaky. But then your gaze meets Sukuna's, and you see the sly grin on his face.

"You know, you don't need a mistletoe to kiss me, princess. I'm your official date now, so you can get a kiss anytime you want."

Before you even have a chance to get embarrassed, one of Sukuna's large hands lands on yours again, and this time he interlaces his fingers with yours. He leans over the table, smiling that boyish grin at you that makes your stomach fill with butterflies.

You see his gaze wander to your lips, and you instinctively lean closer to him too.

Is this really happening?

Maroon eyes gaze deeply into yours as Sukuna places a long finger under your chin, tilting your face up and smirking that sexy smirk at you.

And then his lips are on yours. Warm and soft and surprisingly gentle, making you melt into the kiss with a happy sigh.

Soon your mouth opens against Sukuna's, and he deepens the kiss, making your heart race when his tongue strokes tenderly against yours. Letting you feel his tongue piercing and making you gasp at the sensation of the metal stud gliding over your tongue.

You smile when your fingers land on the back of Sukuna's neck and caress the soft stubble of his undercut, which makes Sukuna groan softly into your kiss. Before long, the Santa hat on his head falls to the ground, but neither of you cares.

Not when Sukuna's kiss is so sweet and enticing. Not when his kiss is your personal Christmas miracle.

Sukuna's fingers caress your jaw, a firm but tender touch. Just like his kiss is passionate and gentle at the same time. A deep, slow French kiss that makes your head spin.

When the two of you pull apart, you are both grinning broadly at each other, eyes filled with wonder.

Your voice is a bit hoarse when you confess softly,

"This is really the best Christmas Eve date I ever had."

Sukuna's grin grows even wider at your words,

"I am the best choice for a date all year."

"In that case, I think we should go on many more dates."

"Anything you wish, princess. I told you, my favorite customer gets anything she wants from me."

You roll your eyes, but you can't hide how pleased you are, brimming with happiness, lips lifted in a smile and eyes shining brightly. Before Sukuna can go on even more about how perfect he is, you quickly lean over the table again and shut him up with another kiss.

The other customers are forgotten. The only thing you know are warm maroon eyes and soft lips and a smug smirk that turns into a beautiful smile when you caress the tattoos on Sukuna's cheek.

It's getting late, and gradually all the couples around you leave the coffee shop to head home or to go see the Christmas lights.

And then there are only you and Sukuna left. He joins you on your side of the table. And soon after, you find yourself sitting on his lap, with Sukuna's strong arms wrapped tightly around you, his warm solid body pressed against yours, and his lips moving on yours in slow sensual kisses that taste like gingerbread spice and cinnamon.

You send a silent thank you to your original date, who decided to ditch you. Because, after all, Sukuna was right. He really is the better date. The best one you could have ever wished for.

Your perfect Christmas gift.

Thank you so much for reading my Christmas story!! I hope you enjoyed barista Sukuna :) He definitely baked his way into my heart! I didn't plan for this story to get so long, but I couldn't stop writing. All the Christmas fluff with Kuna made me feel so happy and warm! I hope he can make your December sweeter too! If you are lonely on Christmas, you can count on barista Sukuna to make you feel better.

A big thank you again to Loni for hosting this amazing collab! It's such a sweet idea!!

Please let me know how you like barista Sukuna! Comments and reblogs make me happy :)

#sukuna x reader #sukuna fluff #sukuna #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #ryomen sukuna

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ppnuggie · 7 months

Note

Apologies for the previous asks

For the Rung ask And the slap a note ask, will you still be able to do them with human reader please? And the bots in both use a holoform, so they are the same size as the human

I'm sorry once again

　　　　　　RUNG x gn reader

　　　　『　rung ,, gender neutral reader 』

　　-> picnic date w/ rung <3

　　— fluff ,, sfw ,, lil crack ,, bro experiences sour lemonade

　　— its alr :D but please keep it in mind if you request in the future :3 i only did the rung one because i didnt rlly understand the other request . made it a oneshot ,, feel free to reblog or give any comments / feedback ! <3 i enjoy reading them and seeing my work spread !

it wasnt quite like earth ,, but it was still nice . being here with rung and introducing him to some customs from your world . and it had been a minute since you'd last gone on a picnic . air warm with a chill breeze rustling against the organic plants covering the ground . almost like grass ,, yet less itchy and more soft . not to mention the vibrant purple color . the sky was green ,, a contrast to the rest of the planets warm colored flora . almost reminding you of halloween in a way ,, with its greens ,, purples ,, and oranges . when was the last time you had celebrated halloween ? or been to a halloween party ? you couldnt even recall how long youve been aboard the lost light ,, with how much things have happened .

" (y/n) ? are you feeling alright ?" his hand settled on your shoulder ,, voice smooth and soothing to your ears . it was nice ,, having someone to care and check up on you for once . being aboard the lost light ,, the most you would get for that would be from the medics making sure you didnt break a bone doing something silly and unthought of . " yeah ,, just taking in the sights ." you smiled to the man ,, rung ,, your hand coming to meet his on your shoulder . the psychiatrist nodded with a smile ,, picnic blanket by his side as you both started to walk up the hillside . it wasnt too steep ,, yet it did pose a bit of a challenge .

his hand slid off your shoulder ,, yours following in pursuit and entangling with his . slim fingers tucked in between your own ,, his hand more warm than yours . how such a little gesture made your heart pick up ,, feeling your face heat as you treasured the feeling . it had been too long since you had felt the touch of another ,, let alone a human . even if he wasnt really human ,, it did heal your lonely and touch starved heart . the need and want of another starting to fill slowly the longer youre with rung . its almost as if all your worries fly away ,, out the window to never bother you again .

" this seems like a good spot ,," you muttered ,, setting the picnic basket and taking the blanket from rung . " can you hold the other end ?" you asked ,, waiting for him to grab the corners . you walked backwards and started to lie the blanket on the soft grass ,, placing the basket over in the middle of it . " i've never been on a picnic before . i must thank you for inviting me ,, (y/n) ." rung hummed ,, opening the basket and pulling out the goods from inside . there wasnt much ,, just some sandwiches packed with some fruits that had been previously cut . a couple of plates and two glasses ,, a pitcher of lemonade to go with . " its nothing really ,, im just glad you even came along ." you replied ,, setting the plates out and grabbing a sandwich for yourself . rung picked one up curiously ,, interested in it . " what might this be ?"

" its a sandwich . the outside is bread and inside is peanut butter and jelly . theres other kinds if you dont like that one ." you shrugged it off ,, biting into your own sandwich . rung examined it ,, lifting the top bread up a bit before putting it back down . he took a bite ,, letting out a hum at the taste . he's only had energon his whole life ,, or other versions of energon . there wasnt much of a flavor to it ,, but experiencing this was quite intriguing for him . it made him wonder what the other things youve brought along would taste like . would it taste sweet ,, like the sandwich he was eating ?

you poured a cup of lemonade for him ,, holding it out so he can grab it . rung didnt waste a second ,, taking a small sip and taking in the different flavors . it made his 'tongue' tingle in a bizarre way ,, his eyes scrunching up . though the tang left and he was left with a sweet aftertaste . " too sour ?" you asked with a giggle ,, forgetting that sometimes lemonade doesnt suit everyone . " is that the word for it ? then yes ,, i suppose so ." rung set the drink down and continued to munch on his sandwich . you had already finished yours ,, munching on a couple of grapes that had been packed .

" what are those ?" rung asked as he swallowed his bite ,, pointing towards the grapes in your fingers . " theyre grapes ,, a type of fruit . try one ,," you said and placed a plump grape into his open hand . " theyre not as sour as the lemonade ,, i promise ." he nodded ,, putting it in his mouth and chewing . it wasnt sour but its wasn't exactly sweet . the crunchiness soon turn into a mushy mess ,, swallowing the supposed grape . he soon finished his sandwich ,, and looked to where you laid on the blanket . " what are you doing now ?" he asked ,, setting down beside you . your hands found each other ,, entangling once more with each other . his hand warmed yours ,, a pleasant feeling with the breeze cooling your skin .

" looking at the clouds and seeing what they look like ." you hummed ,, raising your free hand to point at one . " that one kinda looks like magnus's grumpy face ,," you snicker to yourself . rung nodded ,, smile placed lightly upon his lips . " that one sort of looks like those ,, what are they called ? ofu ?" he raised a brow in question . " its ufo ,, and yeah it does . what if it is ?" you looked over at him in surprise before laughing to yourself . " what if they're here to abduct you ?" rung widened his eyes a bit before shaking his head . " i hope not ,," he unlaced his hand from yours and cupped your cheek . " i couldnt bare to be apart from you ,," he whispered before placing a kiss on your lips .

#transformers x reader #x reader #x gender neutral reader #rung x reader #rung #mtmte rung #transformers rung #🎇.mtmte #🎇.rung

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kookykrooked · 1 year

Text

They're jealous

Characters: Xavier Thorpe, Ajax, Male! Wednesday Addams, Male! Enid Sinclair, Tyler Galpin

Warnings: swearing, slight harassment

Wednesday M.List

Main M.List

Xavier Thorpe

you had recently gotten a job at the café in town that Tyler happened to work at and honestly you didn't know him all that well but you did know that Xavier had some kind if grudge against him which you never questioned because it seemed personal and plus it wasn't like you were friends with the boy so it never bothered you to much

today however Xavier happened to pay you a visit which you usually wouldn't mind but because Tyler didn't go to Nevermore he had no clue you and Xavier were dating which was shocking seeing as gossip spreads fast in the small town and you both have been dating for a year and a bit now, so Xavier just so happened to walk in when Tyler was attempting to ask you out and flirt with you

"c'mon just one date I promise I'll make it nice you won't regret it" he practically begged you because he can't take no for an answer

"I'm already dating someone and I would pick him over anyone any day" he then scoffed looking down mumbling something under his breath which you didn't appreciate

"what was that Tyler" you said turning around to look at him crossing your arms over your chest

"I thought you liked me, I bet I can change your mind please one chance y/n" he said slowly walking towards you and you were about to snap at him before someone else did for you

"tough luck Galpin she's with me and she'd never be with a normie like you" you looked behind Tyler to so Xavier behind him glaring daggers at him, you smiled widely before throwing yourself at him in a tight hug and you looked back at Tyler only to see him with a sour face before he walked away

you looked back at Xavier and kissed his cheek before hugging him again

Ajax (I can't spell his last name :,) )

you could feel his stare behind you but you couldn't help but be friendly to people even if said person doesn't know how to take a hint

"sooo has anyone asked you to the Rave'n yet" he said leaning his head closer to yours which only made you lean your head away from his awkwardly

"yes actually! I have been asked already" you said glad he asked thinking he'd finally leave you alone and boy were you wrong

"hm...really? I'm not surprised seeing how beautiful you are but i bet i can treat you to real good night baby" he said stalking towards you which just made you feel even more uncomfortable and you knew what he ment behind his words and you could only feel Ajax's stare harden and once his hands had reached your hips you saw his eyes look behind just before he turned to stone which shocked you at first before you grinned wide skipping over to Ajax and hugging him smiling even more when you felt his hands tighten around your waist

Male! Wednesday Addams

you had been dragged to the woods and to a scary small building by Wednesday in the dark and there was no chance you were going inside so you offered to guard outside which you now regretted seeing as its been 10 minutes and your called and the woods were only getting scarier by the second so when you felt hands wrap around your waist you let out the most loudest scream known to man your heart racing so fast

"woah woah there sweatheart, you don't have to be scared of me promise"

and you weren't any less panicked "I have a boyfriend please leave me alone " you say in a panicked tone trying to remove his arms from around your waist

"well I don't see him"

"Just because you don't see him doesn't mean he doesn't exist so please let go of my partner before I bend your legs so far back you loose all feeing in them" Wednesday said in his usual monotone voice appearing next to you with a harsh glare on his face and after that threat the man almost instantly let go and ran away

"are you alright my love?" he says turning towards you his voice not any less monotone but you could care less as you nodded your head throwing your arms around him

Male! Enid Sinclair

while you walking towards the cafeteria with Enid your very bubbly and loving boyfriend a random boy walked up to you and started spitting our terrible pick up lines honestly it was quite amusing seeing the boy say horrible pick up lines while your boyfriend who was still smiling but very clearly wasn't happy was right next to you

"are you wi-fi? cause I totally feel a connection" the boy said with a freakishly large smirk on his face while you physically cringed at that one

"um excuse me! they have a boyfriend" you hear Enid say next to you clearly jealous and all the boy did was snort

"really? this guy? you can do way better then this guy" and you were about to say something before you heard a deep growl besides ypu

"back off!" Enid says an lot more aggressive then the last time clearing loosing his patience with the guy and the guy clearly got seeing seeing Enid get his claws out

"alright alright jeez....I'm leaving" he says rolling his eyes and walking past the both of you

Enid looks over at you only to see you already grinning up at him

"what?" he says cluelessly

"nothing your just so cute when your jealous" and that made Enid turn bright red

"I wasn't jealous!"

Tyler Galpin

you were currently sat at a booth in the café Tyler worked out waiting for him to get off for a date you both had tonight and that's when a blond around 6'0 tanned muscular male sat across from you you stared at him with a blank face

"umm...hi?" you say confused having never met this man in your life

"Hey, your pretty what's your name?" you looked around to make sure he was talking to you and he most definitely was seeing as the café was practically empty

"thank...you? my name is y/n" you say still slightly confused

"such a pretty name for such a pretty face...do you have a boyfriend"

"yep I do, he's right there actually" you say pointing at Tyler who was drying a cup while staring at the both at you and the guy clearly was impressed

"really? him? you can do so much better then him, you deserve someone like me" he says leaning closer to you over the table

"no thanks, I don't think I could ever do better than him and he's 100% better then you" you say with a smirk plastered on your face and all he could was leave in a huff as you watched him leave jumping slightly when you heard Tyler's voice besides you

"who was that?" he says still drying the cup he was drying 5 minutes ago

"jeez warning next time but nobody special just some guy thinking he can get with me, why? you jealous?" you say looking up at him grinning and all he could do was look away with a red face

"No..." he replies and you let out a snort 'he so was'

That took forever

#wednesday masterlist #wednesday x reader #xavier x reader #xavier thorpe x reader #ajax x reader #tyler galpin x reader #enid sinclair x reader #masterlist #wednesday #wednesday addams

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moonlitempty · 7 months

Text

The World’s End (2013), Dir. Edgar Wright, Starring Simon Pegg and Nick Frost

One night. Six Friends. Twelve Pubs. Total Annihilation.

And with this beautiful entry we end the Cornetto Trilogy Journal Entries (C. T. J. E.’s for short), it’s been a truly beautiful ride! I hope my (frankly deficient and almost awful) little journal entries have provided at least a little bit of enjoyment or inspiration to all of you, my beautiful Peggsters <3

I had a lot of fun making them! And this served almost as an exercise or test in if I had any creativity left, I hadn’t done anything like this before so it was a nice little refreshment from my normal journaling routine.

(Pss, there is one for Spaced on the way, this is not the end!)

The World’s End proved to be the most exotic (for lack of a better word) movie out of its siblings, while I felt like Shaun and Hot Fuzz were grounded in reality enough that their events could realistically happen in our reality (well, perhaps excluding the zombies), I felt like The World’s End went all out with the mysticism, fantasy, extravagance, and exuberance.

Of course, this is to be expected, it IS a Sci-Fi movie after all! And I didn’t realise how much I needed a nice, time-to-fight-a-planetary-menace movie until I saw this beaut.

Which speaking of that, this movie is visually beautiful! All of Edgar’s Cornetto movies have this signature look I can’t quite put my finger on, but World’s End (I’ll call it that from now on for the sake of convenience) exudes a certain look and feel that I can’t quite describe, it’s sophisticated almost?

The editing in this film is the best in the entire trilogy, it’s got that signature snappy and dynamic style Edgar does so well, but this time it’s refined to the maximum level, with every scene change and transition leaving you in awe in a “THAT IS GENIUS!” sorta way.

Actually, I remember absolutely losing my shit at the intro ALONE, it was that much of a treat to the eyes.

The score was just PHENOMENAL as well! Normally I’m not one to pay much attention to a film’s score, they almost blend in and become complementary to the film in some cases, but this score drew me in almost immediately. It just started to become more and more impactful and present with each passing scene, I stopped taking the score for granted, and the whole film became a feast for the senses, the scene where Gary, Andy, Sam and Steven are driving away from Newton Haven was so powerful and imposing, I must get this score on some sort of physical format (don’t trust digital media to last forever! much less streaming!)

The plot was the thing I was most afraid of, I’m not known as a huge Sci-Fi guy, I find it quite boring and even uninteresting most of the time, so I was terrified of feeling disconnected from this film. The contrary ended up happening, I think this film may have put me onto the genre! That strange sort of cosmic horror and the implications of bigger and stronger societies outside of our own planetary grasp is very, very intoxicating.

GARY WAS PHENOMENAL.

The first time I watched the film I was honestly a little afraid that I’d dislike him, every little juvenile and childish joke or one liner he’d pull made me worried, specially since he was surrounded by a bunch of people that clearly knew he was not someone to trust. This all changed relatively quickly though, I learnt that Gary was just someone clinging to the past and the fun times he used to have with his mates, and honestly his struggles with addiction and feeling like you have nothing going for yourself hit particularly close to home for me. I ended up completely adoring Gary and I wish him the best, my sweet 40 year old baby boy.

The dynamic between Gary and Andy was perhaps the most interesting in the entire film, you could even argue it’s the central theme of the whole film, and seeing how it all slowly developed, unraveled, and blossomed, and Andy grew to care for Gary again was very, very sweet. The scene where they’re together at The World’s End was the most cathartic and powerful moment of the film. To err is human, truly.

I struggled to grow particularly attached to the rest of Gary’s and Andy’s friends, besides Steven and Sam, I didn’t care much for Oliver and Peter, admittedly, sorry!

This movie was surprisingly powerful, even now I find myself still thinking about it, specially the message of how making mistakes and being imperfect is part of the core nature of being human, to rob us of imperfection is to rob us of humanity, of warmth, of thought, of intention.

The World’s End. 10/10.

Until I (inevitably) rewatch you again, Cornetto Trilogy, which will probably be sooner than I expect it to be ❤️💙💚

#the cornetto trilogy #simon pegg #nick frost #edgar wright #the worlds end #gary king #andy knightley #this is a soliloquy at this point #movie #movie journal #journal #film #film journal #movie thoughts #absolutely stunning

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basketballanonsblog · 5 months

Text

Slumber party

"Y/n, we're here!" Nayeon announced their arrival before handing you a bag of drinks and patting your head like a child.

She wasted no time in putting her feet up while your girlfriend greeted you with a kiss on the cheek.

"Nice place you got here. A girl could get used to this, right Jeongyeon?"

"Unnie! I'm sorry about her, y/n."

"It's okay. I'm glad she feels relaxed here."

The ten of you settled quickly in the front room, with the drinks.

Lively, conversations and laughter filled the space. It was the first time your apartment had felt like this. Full of warmth and love, it feels like home.

With the love of your life and your friends around you, it makes you wonder how you managed to spend so long without this.

You smiled at one another, just like when you first met.

This amazing woman brought colour back into your world.

-x-

Sana, Dahyun, Mina, and Chaeyoung returned to their respective apartments after a few hours, while the remaining five stayed.

They could barely walk straight, and you weren't going to allow them to drive home like that.

You and Jeongyeon managed to get the four of them into the two guest bedrooms, but you saw her place a blanket and pillow on the couch.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting ready for bed..."

"You can sleep with me tonight."

"Can I now? I'd prefer dating you a bit longer before you take me to bed."

You blushed at the thought, and ok, maybe you could've worded it differently.

"Not like that! I mean, literally, sleep."

She giggled before stepping closer and resting her head against yours.

"Shhh, I know. I'm only teasing." She gave you a quick kiss before pulling you upstairs.

"My room is minimalist." You quipped as you opened the door.

You were right, Jeongyeon thought. But its simplicity was fitting, the dark colour scheme of the bedroom felt tranquil.

"Do you have a preference?"

"Huh?"

"On which side of the bed you'd prefer."

"Oh. Um...no."

The pair of you laid down, facing each other. She snuggled you, curling into the rhythm of your heartbeat.

"This is nice, our first sleepover."

"I love you." You breathed out while kissing the top of her head.

"I love you too." She fell asleep almost immediately, and for the first time in years, you followed soon after.

-♡-

Food.

That's what Jeongyeon awoke to the smell of. She was warm in your embrace, and as lightly as she could, she pressed a kiss to your jaw before carefully getting out of bed.

"Good morning, unnie!" Mina decided to cook breakfast for everyone, Jeongyeon tried to help, but she insisted she was alright.

"Where's y/n?"

"Still asleep."

"Really?" She stared in awe for a moment until she gave a small smile.

"Is that bad?"

"Just the opposite. In the time I've known y/n, sleep was an issue; She'd be up at god-awful hours. The weariness of being lonely weighed heavily on her. I know it hurt her when Chaeyoung and I met because I only had to wait less than a quarter of the time for my soulmate. You can imagine my relief when you found each other."

Hearing your plights hurt her, but she took comfort in the fact that you had people like Mina around you.

"You really care about her."

"Y/n is one of my closest friends."

"And an ex-crush." Poor Mina nearly choked on her drink.

"She told you?"

"We try not to keep secrets."

"There was a little something there after we met, but we nipped it in the bud. It would've hurt us in the long run, especially since we hadn't met our soulmates. Keeping our relationship platonic was for the best."

You appeared, wrapping your arms around Jeongyeon from behind. Bringing the conversation to a halt.

"You left me alone in bed." You whined playfully. "I expected you to be the first thing I saw when I awoke."

"I'm sorry, my love. I couldn't resist Mina's cooking."

You looked to your friend.

"I see. You're trying to tempt her with food."

"Sorry, not sorry." She smiled cheekily.

"Have some, y/n."

"In a minute, I'd rather not move when you're in my arms." You tucked yourself as much as you could against your girlfriend’s shoulder.

Mina winked at Jeongyeon before leaving you two in your own little world.

#yoo jeongyeon #jeongyeon #jeongyeon x reader #twice fic #twice x reader

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finniestoncrane · 1 year

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One Caress

Dano!Riddler x GN!Reader, word count: 6.5k commission: dano!riddler with some psychological torture 🐀💚 commission me here! request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: stalking, threats, dubcon to enthusiastic participation

The platform was slick and wet, glistening with the reflections of the dim, overhead lights. The air in Gotham was always thick, yet icy cold, and you shivered into your coat as you stood close to the wall, desperately trying to sink into the shadows. It was better to be unnoticeable, much safer. Of course, better than being almost invisible, was being with someone else. There was always something to be wary of, something lurking in the dreary alleys, sometimes not lurking at all it would seem. In your peripheral, you could see two men, whispering together, certain that they had pointed at you before getting back into their two-man huddle.

Alone in Gotham was almost certainly a death sentence.

Staring down the platform, there was only one other person there. The lone refuge available to you.

Yes, it was better to be with someone in Gotham. Even if that someone was a weedy looking stranger who just happened to share the train platform with you. At the very least, it might keep the advances of some of the more timid criminals at bay. Calculating the risk, you reached the conclusion that you were more likely to die at the hands of two men, than by the hands of one rather weak looking specimen. So, you shuffled quickly towards him, sitting down beside him on the bench he had staked out.

You startled him, deep shock on his face, his body jerking back and stiffening to the point where if he had been standing, you were sure his solid body would have toppled over and shattered into a million tiny pieces.

“Do I know you? What are you doing?”

“I’m so sorry, I’m just…” you gestured with your eyes, head slightly nodding behind you towards the two men who were lingering, not obvious, but definitely still monitoring the situation “…just trying not to get mugged, or worse.”

He looked behind you at the two men, narrowing his eyes behind his glasses, but he didn’t speak up. He didn’t say anything. Instead, he turned away from you, settling back into his hunched over position.

“So can I sit here?”

Without looking up, he muttered his response softly.

“Oh, yeah…sure.”

“Thank you.”

You introduced yourself to him, waiting patiently for him to say something in return.

“Ok.”

There was no indication that he was about to open up to you, even slightly. His body was still, focused on the ground.

“Are you…”

“Sorry, I’m Edward. Ed. Eddie.”

Feeling as though you had truly accomplished something, you felt genuine warmth spread through you as you realised you were cracking through his exterior. After all, it was good to make friends, especially ones you might share a commute with. Who could make the world a little less lonely and a bit less terrifying. And it didn’t hurt that he was also pretty cute. Shy, soft features, a bit nerdy looking. A welcome change, really.

“Nice to meet you, Eddie.”

“Yeah, you too.”

Eddie seemed to be desperate to focus his attention on anything but you, or at least to try and convince you that he was deep in thought, too busy for idle conversation, as he shuffled around his backpack, avoiding any eye contact, never turning his body towards you.

From the left, the train appeared around the corner, loudly proclaiming its presence with the dull rumbling of its wheels against the wet tracks, brake screeching as the doors opened.

“It was nice to meet you.” At his words, you brought your hand up, thinking he was prepared to shake it. It obviously took him by surprise though, as he blinged a few times before participating in the pretty common human ritual. Eddie stood up and got on, not waiting for you. And once inside the carriage, you lost him, eventually spotting him perched awkwardly on a free seat near another man further down. It was ok, though, you were safe amongst the crow of people standing by the doors. It would do for now. You could lament the loss of a potential friend, but safety in numbers. That was a relief in itself.

And you were almost thankful that you’d lost him. Maybe not at a surface level, definitely not somewhere in your mind that you were able to be aware of it. But lurking below, you knew that there had been a strange feeling when you made physical contact. There was something about Edward that had set off little alarm bells in your deep subconscious, regardless of how handsome and plain and polite he had seemed.

That feeling might have been why you remembered him so well, and why you thought of him. Although, you hadn’t yet properly decoded the new obsession, instead mistaking it for a crush. He was pretty cute, and that sweet, social awkward attitude really did things for you. He was definitely always lurking there, something to think about when you had a dull moment behind the counter at the store. Everybody fell in love with strangers on the train though, right? It felt different though. You were borderline obsessed, to the point that you could have sworn you’d seen him walk past the sore, and then again on a different day on the opposite side of the street, staring in. Wishful thinking, you supposed.

The crush didn’t occupy your mind for much longer though, as shortly after your chance encounter with Eddie, the letters began.

Well, not so much letters as greetings cards, slid under your door and waiting for you when you got home from work, or after a day or night out. Always when you were away from home. Never stamped. Because whoever was sending them knew where you lived, knew your schedule. And each one of them was customised, little bits of personalisation, like whoever was sending them was bizarrely adept at paper crafts. The artistic flair, and its ability to inspire fear that spread through your blood like a disease, was impressive.

After a week of the cards, sometimes two or more a day if you left your apartment more than once, you were losing your mind. Your ‘secret admirer’ as they called themselves, had wriggled into your brain and they were gnawing away at it, likely relishing in how nervous you now were. Watching your every move, quietly giggling to themselves when they saw you turning around quickly to make sure no one was following you.

But just as you were really losing yourself, you were offered a break, a reprieve from the stress and fear. Because one day, you happened to look up from the register and noticed a familiar face looking at the soda cabinet.

“Eddie?”

He looked around, finally focusing on you, the only other person in the store. With his hand holding the bottle, he gestured towards himself, taking a few tentative steps towards you.

“It’s me! From the station?”

Eddie responded with as polite a smile as you imagined he could muster, but it was plainly obvious that he didn’t remember you at all. Heart sinking, you tried not to let this get you down too much. It would be easy to resign yourself to thinking that everything in your life was terrible. The job, the stalker, the inability to hold the attention of someone who looked as though he might speak to a stranger once every three months, and only then when he had to.

But not to be deterred, you made an attempt to jog his memory, and after you recounted most of what you considered your romance novel worthy ‘meet-cute’ story, he seemed to remember you. Or at least, he was polite enough to pretend to.

“So, uh…maybe we could meet for a drink sometime? I’d love to thank you for letting me sit by you.”

“You want to…have a drink with me? It’s really not necessary.”

“Please? I won’t feel right if I don’t. You’ve been on my mind ever since.”

Blushing at your reveal, you quickly averted your gaze to the floor, kicking your feet a little bit, trying to calm yourself before you said something else that made your body cringe and crumple like a piece of thin paper.

“I guess that would be ok then.”

You almost dropped your phone as you fumbled with it, trying to get it out and get his number before he had a chance to change his mind.

“Give me your number and I’ll text you, we can work out a time!”

Once you had him, stuck in your phone, a quick text sent to share your number (and to make sure he hadn’t given you a fake one) he left in a hurry, blushing as he left. Finally, something positive. Something to drown out the seemingly never-ending stresses of life in Gotham. At least for the time being. A small distraction was all you needed though in order to get back on your feet.

And when you got off work, there was a text from Eddie waiting for you. Half expecting it to be a polite rejection, you were shocked to find he had taken the initiative to arrange your date. Or not date, just a thank you drink. But if you were lucky…

In three days from now, Friday evening, you’d be meeting him at a bar not too far from the station where you had met. Very considerate of him to arrange it just in time for you getting off work.

The whole way home you were practically bouncing, telling every stranger that you sidled up to for safety about your date. And when you got to your apartment, opening the door to see the greetings card on the floor, you brought your foot down on to it, slid it behind you in to the hall, dirty footprint imprinted onto the envelope, and shut the door on it.

They kept coming though, never escalating in tone or message. And there was no point in going to the police. In Gotham? What would be the point. ‘Someone’s sending you cards, lady? Without anthrax in them? And they’re not letter bombs? Come back when you have something interesting.’ No, there was nothing to do but try and ignore them, which would have been a futile effort had you not had Eddie to distract you.

Even as you sat at the booth in the bar, nervously but patiently waiting for his arrival, alone and vulnerable, you were still consumed enough by the thought of Eddie that your stalker and any potential danger was far from your mind.

But then you happened to catch a glimpse of the TV in the corner, playing some scrolling news channel, closed captions detailing the report that was playing on Gotham’s newest threat, The Riddler. He was enough to strike instant fear in anyone, to be fair. Suddenly your stalker didn’t seem too bad, in the grand scheme of things. There were shivers coursing through your veins as you watched the clip of his stream, that mask, and behind it unhinged and volatile, hairs on end as you read the words on screen, digested his murders, so hypnotised by terror that you hadn’t noticed Eddie approaching you from behind.

“Hello.”

Startled out of your trance, you jumped and let out a little squeak, worry emblazoned on Eddie’s face instantly as he took a step back from you.

“Sorry! Please, Eddie, sit down. I was just distracted by the…”

You droned off, eyes averting back to the images on screen, the words along the bottom, details of the crime, horrible, gruesome. Trying to refocus your attention on Eddie, you noticed he was watching too, eyes wide behind his glasses, mouth neutral, not scared, oddly void of emotion as though he were trying to force it down. Trying to hide his nerves from you, maybe. As he turned and took a seat, he offered a wry smile.

“Thanks for arranging this, Eddie. I really wanted to let you know how much I appreciated you letting me sit by you, and for letting me thank you. If that makes any sense?” You giggled lightly into your drink, Eddie sipping at the one he had brought over for himself. “If I’m babbling, just let me know.”

“No, it’s alright. Are you ok though? You seem…less bright and bubbly, much less confident that you were before. Is something the matter?”

Your heart thumped, breath catching in your throat, luckily able to be disguised by your sips. Were you really that nervous? Had the news, your stalker, the general atmosphere of Gotham, really gotten to you to the point that you were no longer yourself? And beside that, underneath the worry, excitement bubbled up. Eddie had pinpointed aspects of your personality, and had remembered them well enough that he could tell there was something wrong.

Pathetically grateful that he had asked, had shown some concern, you let out a monologue to rival most of Shakespeare, directed just at him. And he sat, nodding politely, listening intently to your troubles, offering a sympathetic ear and a gentle smile.

“So, yeah. I’ve just been edgy because of the news. And those greetings cards aren’t helping. They’re not horrible or anything, I just…”

“I understand. Have you considered though that the intentions are nice? Isn’t it possible that whoever is sending them is expressing feelings for you that they might not be able to express otherwise?”

You looked across the table at him, concerned that he might be sympathising with your stalker, worried that he wasn’t taking you seriously after all. And he must have sensed you shifting uncomfortably, as he began sputtering out words, digging himself out of the hole he was beginning to make for himself.

“I don’t mean…I just…is there someone you know who might fit the bill? That you can have someone confront for you?”

“No, I don’t think so. So far, I only really know you in Gotham. I moved here for work. How’s that going for me, huh?” You rolled your eyes, taking in a deep breath and sinking into your drink.

“Well, maybe it’s just someone being weird. Whoever he is, he probably wants you scared. That’s likely the intention. And are you…scared?”

“Well, yes. It’s working!”

Eddie offered a gentle, lopsided smile. It was easy to talk to him. It felt like he already knew you, and you already knew him. Like you had been friends for years. Though he didn’t reveal much about himself, he seemed open. And he was a great listener. There was no indication that he was anything less than enthralled when you spoke of your hobbies, told him what you liked to do on a Saturday, mentioned your plans for your dream vacation.

And thought you felt a bit of guilt at how long you spoke of your job, detailing everything about it that made it so boring, so stifling, he never once looked like he was waiting for you to wrap it up. Instead, he was sympathetic.

“I understand completely. My job is a means to an end.”

“That’s exactly it! But I don’t know what the end is for me. There’s nowhere to go. I can’t go up, I can’t even go side to side. I feel very…trapped.”

“Like a rat in a maze.”

“Eddie, you get me so well. I just…do you ever feel like everything is out to get you? Like the entire system is set up in favour of the other? And you’re expected to just trudge along, trying to make the best of what is essentially a nightmare of a situation?”

He reached out and placed his hand softly on top of yours.

“More than most, I think I know exactly what you mean.”

Removing his hand swiftly, as though he felt he had become too casual, too personable, he shot you an apologetic but sweet smile.

“It’s hurtful to see someone so cheerful and kind be brought down by this place.”

“Oh, Eddie. I’m not…I’m ok, really.”

“But Gotham, it does things to a person. I’d like nothing more than to fix it. To rid it of the atmosphere that brings good people to their knees.”

You stared at him, eyes wide at the sudden outburst of passion in his words, his voice unwavering, eyes focused on you. Like he was a completely different person, coming out from behind the mask.

“At least, I’d like everyone to feel…good. Safe.”

“And I genuinely feel safer having you around. Even with my stalker, and now this idiot.” You gestured to the television, still covering the news of The Riddler. Eddie blinked slowly before speaking again.

“Well, given how we met, I’d like to extend my…services.” He smiled awkwardly, met with your own flirtatious grin back. “I’m always here if you need me.”

And though your stalker pursued their relentless campaign of psychological torture over the next week, you kept Eddie’s offer at the back of your mind. Which was helpful, because when your stalker somehow realised that you were no longer reading the cards, that’s when the texts began.

An unknown number, messages at least four times a day. Each time you blocked one, another came in. Persistent to the point where you stopped blocking them, allowing them to flood in, one by one, declaring love, outlining their intentions to have you. In a desperate bid to find some comfort, you invited Eddie over for dinner at your apartment. It was easy to find your ongoing conversation with him through the other messages. His was the only contact in your phone with a little love-heart after his name.

With a date set, you were thankful. It couldn’t have come at a better time. Your anxiety was at a peak. Each day there was more and more news about The Riddler, that mask staring out from the television screen, threatening and yet somehow childish. Hopefully, if dinner went well, you could convince Eddie to stay the night. If you sealed the deal, you might be able to get him to sleepover a lot more often. Not just for the safety, you found him to be oddly comforting. As though when you were with him, you didn’t have to be afraid of The Riddler, of your stalker. With Eddie there with you, it was like they didn’t exist in the world outside of your apartment anymore.

And everything was going well, the way to a man’s heart truly being through his stomach.

“I don’t know when the last time someone cooked for me was.”

“It counts if you cook for yourself though!”

“Hm, do microwavable meals count as cooking?”

“Ok you should come over a lot more often. Even if it’s just to be fed.”

He looked up from his plate, shovelling the last mouthful in, gentle smile pressing into his cheeks.

Eddie stood up, plate in hand, but you took it from him, dropping it into the sink.

“Let me help you with that.”

“Actually, Eddie, we can leave those for now. I had other plans.”

Before he could protest, your lips were on him, hushing him, whatever words he was about to say melting into a moan against your mouth. And with the physical contact, your fears felt like they were melting away. Any stress that had been brought on by the terror you were living in turned into vicious passion as you bit at his lips, tongue forced almost to his throat. Fervent hands grasping at his shirt, your fingers deftly undoing two buttons, finally feeling Eddie’s hands against your body instead of nervously by his side.

No longer polite and cordial, limited by his own social anxieties, Eddie was someone almost completely different in those moments. His hand, palm flat against your hip, fingers gently teasing at the fabric of your shirt, the other behind your head, gently tracing your jawline. With your hand on his, you brought it around to kiss his palm, noticing all the tiny cuts on it.

“Oh! Eddie, what happened? Are you ok?”

“They’re just papercuts.” He snatched the hand away before you could finish cooing over them.

“You poor baby! How did you get so many?”

“It’s…uh…my job, files and things.”

“Here, let me kiss them better.”

As you moved to grab his hand again, he stepped back from you completely.

“I actually think I should go now.”

“Woah, wait. What happened?”

“Nothing! I had a lovely evening, but…I’d rather things not get so heated this quickly?”

As disappointed as you were, it only increased your lust for him. You wanted him, and he wasn’t letting you have him. Everything about him was so strangely attractive. It was always the quiet ones, the polite men, those were the ones who had something lurking under the surface, waiting to come out. And you hoped to god that Eddie was hiding something truly spectacular under his soft, nerdy exterior.

And you got a glimpse at that something, but it wasn’t necessarily pleasant. Because as he sifted through his open wallet for his train ticket, you noticed the driver’s license in the front of the wallet said Patrick Parker. Pretending not to notice, you leant in and kissed him again, pressing one on his cheek for good measure as you walked him to the door. You could think about the implications of his lie later. Not everyone gave a different name for nefarious reasons. There was a myriad of excuses you could think of for him.

With a bruised ego and diminished libido, you sat down on your sofa, flicking through the channels and trying desperately to ignore the 24-hour news cycle’s obsession with The Riddler. But all you could think of was Eddie. He had a strange hold on you. It wasn’t normal for you to be so infatuated with someone so quickly, but he had an air of what you thought could only be mystery about him. And you were worried you had maybe put him off, or scared him away by being so forward. Either way, you were worried about him. Why had he given you a fake name? Or why did he have a fake ID? And what happened to his hands? They looked like papercuts, sure, but there were so many. And what man is turning down what was definitely turning into second date sex?

A nice one. A polite one? One that’s not interested in you.

Sighing, you tipped your head behind you onto the back of the couch, scrunching your eyes closed and trying hard not to let your mind catastrophise the evening. Eddie was a gentleman, that was all. He just wasn’t interested in pursuing you too quickly. Maybe he thought it wasn’t the right time. You had spent a lot of the evening tell him how scared you were. But he hadn’t seemed that worried. Was that a front?

Trying to think back to the evening’s conversation, you realised that Eddie had seemed a little aloof when you were discussing your stresses. He had known that the letters had stopped. Had you told him though? Probably. You let yourself rant to him with no filter when you were around him. It was easy to open up to his innocent looking face. And when you spoke of The Riddler, he had been adamant that you had nothing to worry about. But how could he be so certain? This city was a hellscape, and Eddie didn’t seem to be concerned by any of it. You were though. And you wished Eddie was here to instil some of his confidence in you, because right now you were terrified.

As though on cue, there was a dull thud in the other room, and you jumped from the sofa, straight up, hands clutching at your chest in fright. A quick glance to your left at your phone, wondering if you should call Eddie, even after the way he left. He did offer you companionship if you ever felt unsafe, after all. But you persevered and took slow, careful steps to the bedroom, picking up the rolling pin from the kitchen counter as your weapon of choice.

The element of surprise was crucial, but equally terrifying. You brandished your weapon, took two deep breaths and slammed the door open, screaming as you charged forward, swinging the rolling pin around and trying to make contact with anything or anyone. Waiting for the dull thuds of a strike to let you know you had at least knocked your assailant back.

But there was no one there.

Adrenaline beginning to fade, heartbeat returning to a safe rate, you padded around the bed, over to the window. It was cute for the aesthetics, having a window by the fire escape, but it had always filled you with the kind of dread that came with the lingering threat of home invasion. The window was shut though, locked from the inside. You double checked, even. You stood back to take in the fire escape, in case you could see anyone outside, your socks suddenly becoming cold and wet. There was a puddle on the floor. The sound of the rain, hard and deafening, would likely last until morning, serving as a reminder to let your landlord know there was a leak. Not that anything would come of it. Maybe Eddie would come around to fix it?

Leaving yourself with that thought, you returned to the lounge to clean up before heading to bed. The only time you were free of the worries. Though the greetings cards, their little love messages and secret codes, were pervasive enough to break through. They always did.

And while you lay still, face screwing up in disgust at the horror show your mind was treating you to, the closet door eased open slowly. A figure, dark, shadowy, exiting and standing at the foot of the bed, taking you in as you slept fitfully. Admiring their work, the window, locked behind them. Cursing the little puddle where the droplets of rain on the slick coat had fallen, rousing suspicions, before they were able to make their big reveal.

Pacing around the side of the bed, they leaned in to you, your body stirring at the primal sense of being watched. As you opened your eyes, blinking, adjusting to the darkness, you finally noticed them. Your pitiful scream cut off quickly by a gloved hand. In a panic, you tried to bite, wriggling and trying to sit up, but their body was on yours, straddling you on the mattress, the creaks and squeaks explicit in their nature. With tense fists, you beat your hands against the torso, tears pooling in your eyes and falling down the sides of your face.

“Stop it! It’s me! It’s me!”

A deep voice, the one from the streams. Familiar. His hand was removed from your mouth and he held them up, palms out.

“It’s me.”

“The Riddler…”

“Well, yes. But it’s…Eddie.”

He removed the mask slowly, unveiling his silly little face. The cherubic one that had promised to protect you not long ago, that had been in your apartment just hours before. A surprised sob pushed out of your throat.

“I’m sorry, I could have thought of a better way of…introducing you…I just wanted to let you know that now you don’t need to be scared of anything! Because what you’re scared of…is me!”

Your chest heaved as a loud gasp fell from your mouth. He was right, but so wrong. This was a fucking nightmare. There was no way it was happening. In a bid to at least exercise some self-preservation, you tried to shout for help, but his hand slammed down over your mouth again. A look of disappointment, irritation, crossing his face.

“Now, why would you do that? I can protect you. I told you that! There’s no need to worry!”

His voice seemed different, not as controlled or paced as it usually was. Usually? You barely knew him. You didn’t know him at all in fact. You had met him three times in total. But where he was at least polite and soft before, now he seemed almost hysterical, punctuated by the fact that he was smiling almost cruelly, giggling to himself.

“You’re so confused, ok let me explain!”

“Eddie, please.”

“Ok, that has to stop I’m afraid.”

With a swift motion, he unclipped a roll of duct tape from the carabiner attached to his belt, tearing off a piece and securing it over your mouth.

“Please, if you’re not going to read my letters and cards, all my messages, the least you can do is let me talk face to face.”

Your heart sank, the physical feeling causing a wave of nausea to settle over you. It was hard to believe how taken in you had been. The cards, the messages, they had been coming from Eddie, in a bid to control you? Or was he trying to let you know how he felt, like he mentioned in the bar. If you were scared, terrified, then you’d be more likely to turn to your saviour. And he’d made himself your saviour. And while you were still in shock, you were beginning to feel more than horror at the fact that you were still lying there, gazing deep into his big eyes behind the mask. The last thing you needed was to be on his bad side. And it was still Eddie after all. In his own weird way, he had been trying to impress you. Or were you just convincing yourself of that? Either way, there was no getting past the fact that you found him weirdly hot in his outfit. A thought that had you lurching, trying to remove yourself from your own body.

As his ranting continued, trying to convince you that everything he had done was for you, you were beginning to be convinced.

“It’s nice to feel needed. Do you know how badly I want to save everyone? And you begged me to save you!”

Leftover desire from earlier, the lack of satisfaction at his own hands, the feeling of unresolved lust.

“And I want to! I’ve been watching you, protecting you when you didn’t even know! Trying to show you my devotion! And you’ve been so grateful so far. It’s made me feel really good.”

It was possible that it was the adrenaline, maybe your mind trying to convince you to make the best of a bad situation, but you were entirely swept off your feet by his declarations, the dedication to you he was explaining. It was romantic, stirring a warmth inside of you.

“Now, please don’t scream again. I’d hate for this to go wrong.”

He removed the duct tape in a quick snatch, crumpling it and tossing it to the side.

“Eddie, you don’t have to…I’m grateful?”

The questioning tone was unintentional, but genuine. You weren’t sure if you were grateful. But you weren’t ungrateful either. And as sweet as Eddie was, as much as you wanted, a few hours ago, to fuck nice Edward, there was something entirely more appealing about fucking The Riddler. Fear and passion toe the line against each other after all.

Almost at the same time as you noticed your own arousal building, Eddie seemed to noticed too. As you pressed your thighs together, trying to contain yourself, he trailed off from his sermon, eyes trailing up your body, eyes wide as though he had only just realised that you lay before him, sleeping in panties and a t-shirt, more exposed that he’d seen you before. In a show of his real self, or whichever version of him Eddie was, his eyes flitted around the room, awkwardly trying to avert his gaze as he tugged the jacket over his pants.

In a bold move that shocked you, words came out of your mouth without any cognitive action required.

“Is that a murder weapon, or are you just…pleased to be here.”

He pulled out a flat, shiny silver tool from his pocket.

“Both.”

His little smile, goofy and gentle, pressed upwards into his cheeks as he giggled to himself, watching you bite your lip. Lifting it up, he slapped the flat end against his gloved palm, your breath hitching at the sound.

“Would you…like to see it in action?”

You nodded silently.

“Of course you do. I knew it from the moment you sidled up to me on that platform. You’re a little slut. It’s a disappointment, for sure. But it’s one I expected. You’re a woman after all.”

“I’m sorry, Eddie.” You were trying to control the excitement in your voice, not wanting to distract from the scenario he was laying out before you.

“A good start. But show me you mean it though.”

You leant up, shuffling to the edge of the bed and turning around, knees under your stomach as you bent over. Face pressed into the mattress, ass in the air. A leather glove fell softly to your cheeks, curving around them, gliding to your hips and down your thighs. The touch was soft, careful and thoughtful. But it was contrasted by the sudden crack that echoed in the room as the smooth, cold tool made contact with your skin. It nipped, the stinging echoing around the flesh, ringing out internally as well as externally. Before you had time to relish in the tingling as the pain ebbed away, you were struck again, a lurid little yelp coming out, in turn inspiring a soft moan and a giggle from Eddie behind you.

In quick succession, he brought the tool to you four more times, no break for reprieve in between the smacks, and with tears forming in your eyes, you managed to gasp out a “please”, to which Eddie dropped his weapon to the floor and soothed over the skin. Red imprints under his leather glove.

“You’ve been a very good girl so far. My good girl.”

His body was suddenly crumpled over you, collapsing you into the bed as he leant his entire weight on you. Mouth agape, pressed against your ear where you could hear his warm breath, hear the whimpering as he removed the gloves from his hands, two bare fingers being thrust into your mouth. He stretched them into a V, stretching the corners of your lips, nails and fingertips pressed into the gums.

“Come on.”

You managed out a muffled ‘hm?’ but audible enough that he knew you were feigning ignorance at his intrusion.

“Suck.”

Letting your tongue press flat against his fingers when he brought them together again, you pouted around them, saliva covering them as you hollowed your cheeks, humming in pleasure.

“You’re good at that. Are the skills transferable?”

“I don’t…”

“Get on your knees and show me.”

Once you were on the floor, knees on the hard wood, you looked up at him, batting your eyelashes, lips apart in a suggestive pout.

“Now what, Eddie?”

“Do you need me to show you?”

“I think so.” You looked away from him, acting coy, trying to instil the role of confidence in him, since this new side of Eddie was one you weren’t sure you wanted to usher away too quickly.

“God, you’re so stupid, hm?”

“I really am, Eddie. I’m so stupid, I’m just a stupid little slut.”

With a shuddering breath, Eddie frantically began undoing his belt, unzipping his pants and letting them fall down. The bottom of his coat covered him, but you raised your hands and slowly pulled down the zip, revealing his thick, solid length, taking it in your hand as you looked up at him. His face was red, blushing, but he maintained eye contact as you leant your head forwards, pausing just before your mouth made contact with his hard cock.

“Like this, Eddie?”

“Fuck.”

You took his head in your mouth, tongue lapping at his precum, letting yourself drool over it, hungrily, before sliding your mouth down further, to the point where you were sure you couldn’t take any more of him. As your nose met with the small tuft of light brown hair at the base of his cock, his head hit the back of your throat, and you choked around him. Saliva dripping from your lips and down the shaft of his length.

“It’s ok. It’s ok. You’re doing so good.”

He brought one of his hands to the back of your head, gathering up your hair and twisting it around his fingers. With his grip on you, he took control, easing your head gently but quickly up and down, bobbing around his twitching cock. Between moans, Eddie was still insistent on lecturing you.

“I think about you…all the time...mmm…huh…I watch you…everywhere…you go…fuck…I’ve kept you so…so safe…hmm…and everything…I’m going to do…what I’m about…god…to become…hng…you can think of it…as another…heh…one of my little…love notes.”

With a slick pop, he removed himself from you, a strand of saliva connecting the soft, red head of his cock to your lips. The explicit image of you on the floor on your knees, servitude to him, was sending him into a frenzied fit of desperation. Hand still wrapped around your hair, he teased you up, letting you drop down onto the bed.

“Lie back. Let me show you how much you mean to me.”

Once you were in position, at his complete mercy, he tore at your panties, yanking them down your legs hurriedly, spreading your thighs apart with his hands, long soft fingers lingering in their grip on your skin, leaving you only to grab his cock at the base, guiding himself inside of you with a deep breath and a mewling little moan.

“Ah..aha…ha”

He laughed as he found his pace, thrusting forward into you, lifting your ankles and bending your legs at the knee, hands following down to your thighs where he dug his fingers in again, using the pull to bring you closer, to get himself deeper inside of you.

With each motion, you could feel yourself clenching around him, walls stretched by his surprising thickness, whimpering as he became more forceful, as his grunts were replaced by one word, repeated over and over, punctuating every little rutting motion he made.

“Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.”

“I’m yours, Eddie.”

“Mmm…thank you…thank…you…I can’t…I can’t…much longer…”

“Oh, Eddie.”

His knees weakened under him, just as he let himself thrust in once more, stopping inside of you to let himself cum, filling you with his hot seed, groaning at the view when he pulled out slowly, your lips swollen, dripping, covered in him. A mark of his ownership.

Collapsing next to you in the bed, jacket still on, opened and exposing his soft sweatshirt, he pulled you into him, holding you tight, almost painfully, against his chest.

“See, you don’t have to worry. As long as you’re mine. If you’re mine, then he can’t hurt you. I can’t hurt you.”

It was almost cold, the way that he said it. Despite the warmth that was forced into the tone. The words themselves were threatening, commanding.

“I’ll protect you. It’s better to have someone in Gotham. Safety in numbers.”

#finnie writes #riddler smut #fanfic #the riddler fanfic #riddler fanfic #riddler x reader #riddler x you #ridler scenario #dano riddler #dano!riddler #edward nashton #the riddler fanfiction #the riddler #paul dano #danonation #cw dubcon #cw stalking

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saintdark · 1 year

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xxGermanBodyShopxx

I have never written a fanfic before! Please be nice, constructive criticism and being rude are two very different things. This is VERY 18+. This chapter has nothing NSFW but several trigger warnings: Abuse, kidnapping, manipulation, age gap, reader is like 18-19 and Strade is like 30 somethin. Everyone is a little OOC, and gender!neutral reader! Also, not very long- still trying to convince myself to actually get out there.

xxGermanBodyShopxx: Hey, just checking in on you kiddo. Need to chat?

xxANONxx: Thanks Strade. Things at home feel like they’re kinda just getting worse but its okay. I don’t want to bother you with it.

xxGermanBodyShopxx: It sounds like it hasn’t gotten better in a while. You’re an adult, why don’t you just leave?

xxANONxx: I wouldn’t have anywhere to go, and my sisters... I can’t abandon them.

xxGermanBodyShopxx: He doesn’t target them, just you. You have me. You can live with me, you know that.

xxANONxx: I’m 3 hours out of your way, I couldn’t.

xxGermanBodyShopxx: Silly Hase. Of course, I’ll get you! You said theres a 711 nearby, correct?

xxANONxx: ..Yeah. Let’s do it.

We met online almost a year ago to this date, the abuse from home began picking up more and more as I turned 18. Online was truly my only escape, no work because no car. No car because no work. It’s such an unfair cycle, how is someone supposed to tooth and claw their way up in this world? That’s when I met Strade, meeting on a 18+ chat. It was sexual, scary stuff some would call it: discussing rape or cnc, blood play, knife play, rope, etc. It grew into genuine fondness and good conversation of unlike things, and most nights we would call or facetime of some sort. I felt so much less alone.

Those calls meant everything to me, he was very charming and outgoing, and I genuinely could never describe myself that way. He took the lead in every aspect, decisive and sure. He was stable and consistent. All I have ever wanted in a person, in life.

3AM at the Gas Station

The anxiety in my body was slowly but surely turning into some severe nausea, and shakiness. The gas station was practically empty aside from one older man and the young attendant who looked high out of his mind. “You’re a cutie! Whatcha doin’ in such a shady place pretty lady?” The older man shouts from around the small bend towards me. I freeze, I was too in my own noggin to even consider that someone might question why I was probably looking suspicious. “Oh-I uhm.” The front doorbell jingles and walks in Strade. It was surreal seeing him in person, and honestly, surprised he came. “Ah, sorry to keep you waiting Liebe. Picked us up some food for the drive back home!” My body finally relaxed as I heard and saw the familiar German, fast paced walking towards him, only to be pulled into a tight embrace. “Let’s go home.”

It's a long drive home, but conversation is smooth and it’s like nothing was different. He was still sweet, talkative, if anything he was just more intense. I tried to ignore the missing door handle, he works on cars, right? Maybe something happened and he couldn’t fix it today? I didn’t want to think of why he wouldn’t have fixed it before I got in the car. “So, Hase. There are several ground rules to you living within my home.” He pauses, waiting for a response but only met with a nod.

In exchange for not working and me taking care of you, housework, cooking, cleaning, and some other projects will be for you to do.

You’re going to be presented to the neighborhood as my fiancé. Play. The. Part.

You’ll need to learn some medical basics. Stitches, bandaging, splints, etc. Don’t ask questions.

Behave, do what I say, and I wont do anything to hurt you outside the bedroom, ok?

Where the fuck did this come from?! “I-I What? I thought..” he chortles. “Yeah. I’m sure you did. You were born to be controlled, and you will live that way too. You never were good at making choices for yourself, little hase.” I feel the connection in my synapses click. I felt safe with him because it wasn’t something I didn’t already know. I loved him because he’d think when I didn’t want to. He listened to gather more information to control, not for love. “I’m actually being VERY kind. You wanted out. I got you out, no? You’ll see, youll live quite well compared to… the others I bring home.” His tone was ice. I believed him. Still thought he was a motherfucker for that though.

#btd strade #btd #strade #boyfriend to death #btd2 #strade x reader #authorhaslotsofanxiety #the price of flesh #cw: gore #cw:kidnapping #cw:abuse #cw: manipulation

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blackjackkent · 16 days

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Wandered Rakha around the rest of the tiefling party. She's not overly interested in a ton of interaction with the tieflings themselves (because she's still pretty worried she's going to lash out at them).

It's weird not having Rolan and his siblings here. :(

Rakha mostly hangs around with her companions.

Chatted with Shadowheart about how she never expected to care about the refugees or want to help them - that she was trained not to focus on anything that distracted from Shar. Rakha feels pretty odd about that too; she isn't particularly good at altruism, yet, but she recognizes that they did a good thing for these people, even if the beast's bloodthirst was involved half the time. (I had to reload because I accidentally had Rakha agree to share some wine with her, because I thought she meant just sharing a drink while they were chatting, but she actually meant the cutscene wine later where you can make out with her, and all the other companions started talking about how cute we looked together. XD LEAVE ME ALONE I HAD A NICE MOMENT WITH WYLL AND THAT'S ALL THAT'S HAPPENING.)

Astarion is, as usual, having a terrible time at the party. Rakha kind of doesn't blame him, but they had a nice moment of connection thinking about all the goblins they killed. Astarion tried to come onto her and suggested they find each other after the party, which she found kind of baffling and shut him down directly. He got grumpy about it. She decides it was probably the wine talking and moves on.

Lae'zel is ABSOLUTELY acting like a spurned lover and I feel bad for finding it quite funny - not because she's clearly upset (I love Lae'zel far too much for that) but because Rakha is SO fucking confused about it. Lae'zel> "I have seen the kith'raki tear a screaming neogi's legs from its belly to fashion into blades. Yet they could not match your nerve today. It was enough to drive me to madness. I smell their blood on you still. I smell your moisture. How torturous for us both that I'll never get a taste. Oh, but do enjoy yourself this night. I intend to, myself." Rakha, inwardly> Look, I respect and trust you more than basically anyone in camp and I don't know how we got onto such completely different pages on this, but also WHAT are you talking about?

Gale told Rakha about Tara - how he locked himself in his tower in a depressive haze after his failure with the orb, and how Tara helped him discover the treatment and find magical items to help him. He says she would be proud of them for helping the tieflings. Rakha... frankly doesn't much care what Gale's cat would think of her, but it does make her think more about Wyll telling her he was proud of her, earlier in the evening. (He also went down the dialogue pathway of talking about how phenomenal she is and stuff like that - the romance setup. I had Rakha basically tell him it's not happening, but realistically I don't think, for her story, that that part of the conversation happened at all; she and Gale are cautious allies and definitely connected over some things today, but neither of them feels that way about each other.)

Karlach, as usual, is just a total sweetheart about the whole thing. She's incredibly excited about seeing the refugees safe, about her own freedom, about her friendship with Rakha and the others. Rakha is considerably less effusive... but Karlach has, in her own way, had almost as much of an effect on her as Lae'zel and Wyll have, purely by virtue of how her kindness comes as naturally to her as breathing.

Narrator: The buzz of celebration quiets to a soothing hum as you approach your bunk. You've picked up a few pleasant memories on your journey, amongst your struggles.

Go to bed, hoping to dream of Wyll.

Narrator: Somewhere, in the corner of your heart, you suspect he might be dreaming of you too.

-----

When bedtime rolls around, I think Rakha asks the others to post a guard over her. It's been a good night, and the beast has quieted since her interaction with Wyll... but she doesn't trust it and has no reason to. And for once she is absolutely determined that she will not spill blood tonight.

In the end, Lae'zel keeps watch the whole night, her eyes fixed unblinkingly on Rakha as she sleeps. Wyll tries to take over from her halfway to morning and she snarls at him and tells him she has the matter handled.

#bjk plays bg3 durge #rakha the dark urge #more tomorrow most likely #clearing out the remainder of the first map and starting towards the creche i think #although i really do have to do some move prep >.<

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theforgottenmcrmy · 2 years

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Birds of a Feather (Chapter 6/?) ||| Bradley Bradshaw

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Sam “Merlin” Wells’ Daughter OC

Warnings: Explicit Language, References to the Death of a Parent, Really Mild Angst

Word Count: 9,500 ish.

Summary: Breaking the hard deck? Openly taunting their instructor in a way that was borderline insubordination? Hell, Rooster was taking risks that even he had better sense than to try and get away with.

DISCLAIMER: Spoilers for Top Gun and Top Gun: Maverick ahead.

Masterlist /// Chapter 1 /// Chapter 5 /// Chapter 6 /// Chapter 7

A/N: As always, thank you to all of you who take the time to read this story and offer me your support and kind words. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and that you have a great rest of the week.💙

Chapter 6: Something in the Water

“... Welp, I think it’s time to call it a night,” Clara said after a few moments of awkward silence. The boldness she’d been feeling up until that point quickly began to fade in light of having rendered Hangman speechless- a feat which was one seldom seen. “I’ll see you all tomorrow morning.”

Though the majority of the group was still giving her and Hangman stunned looks, Phoenix was the first among them to break their silence, bidding her a farewell. “Have a goodnight, Parrot.”

Clara nodded with a shy smile and walked away, swearing she heard Hangman grumbling something under his breath as she did. She didn’t dare to stay any longer to know for certain what he was saying. After all, if Hangman was literally going to have her life in his hands, she thought it generally wise to avoid pissing him off too much in one day.

Even if it had been well-deserved on his end.

Clara quickly paid her tab at the bar, not bothering with a lengthy goodbye to Penny since she had a strong feeling the visit to the Hard Deck would not be the only one she had during the detachment.

She was outside for just a few moments before a wisp of air hit her side, indicating that someone else had joined her. She looked up, not surprised in the slightest to see Bradley walking beside her.

“You calling it a night, too?”

Bradley merely hummed in response. He seemed to be a little less upbeat than he had been during other parts of the evening, and Clara was beginning to suspect that being around Hangman was already beginning to take its toll on him.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” she told him, moving to head out into the dark parking lot.

“Wait,” Bradley called after her, placing a light hand on her arm to stop her.

Clara froze, the touch of his calloused hand felt almost like it burned her skin, despite his gentleness.

Bradley didn’t seem to notice. He frowned, his eyes scanning parking lot suspiciously. “Where’s your rental at?”

“At my assigned housing,” Clara explained. “It’s actually only a few blocks away, so I decided to walk here.”

“I’ll drive you home then.”

“Really, it’s fine,” she protested, taking another step out into the night. “It’s like a five minute walk.”

“Wait,” Bradley pleated again, his serious tone making Clara pause once more.

She was still painfully aware of the hand on her arm that had yet to fall back to his side as she looked up at him. The few lights right outside the bar’s entrance casted shadows upon his face, but she could still see his pursed lips and eyebrows furrowed together in a worried look. The lull of the ocean waves in the background wasn’t doing much for her in her effort to stave off the impending tiredness she had begun to feel, but it did set a nice ambience for the sudden moment truly alone they’d found themselves in.

“I know you can take care of yourself,” Bradley prefaced, sounding aware of how lightly he ought to have been treading. “But it’s late, and if you’re half as tired as I am, that alone is enough of a reason- let me give you a ride. Please?”

Part of Clara wanted to turn him down. Bradley was right- she could take care of herself. But the other part of her was touched by his genuine concern he conveyed. It was as though he was more worried about her because it was her, rather than anything else.

Plus, it had been a while since she had spent any decent amount of time in Fightertown. While enrolled in TOGUN, she’d gotten what she believed to be a good handle on who around could be trusted, and who she ought to simply avoid. But that had been a few years ago, and the faces around the area had more likely than not changed drastically.

“Okay.”

Bradley looked at her with uncertainty, almost as though he hadn’t expected her to agree so easily. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” she confirmed with a light laugh. “Now, let’s get going- before I change my mind.”

“The Bronco’s right over there,” Bradley said, gesturing in the general direction he’d parked his beloved vehicle. “Lead the way, Darling.”

Jake Seresin was more observant than people gave him credit for.

Though he was no stranger to the spotlight, there was one aspect of himself he didn’t mind others not giving him enough credit for. The longer people took to catch onto him and his more subtle habits, the more opportunities he had to gather information he could later use to his advantage.

When he left the Hard Deck, begrudgingly calling it an early night, if only to read those damn briefing notes that the obnoxious Parrot had drawn attention to, he was met with a sight that was very interesting.

Bradley Bradshaw and Clara Wells had been pretty inseparable during their time in Lemoore. Jake had been there, and he had picked up on that relatively quickly. Though they may have repeatedly denied any involvement with one another when asked about it, Jake didn’t take either of them to be the type to readily admit to that sort of thing anyway. They seemed to be just as serious about their careers as he was, even if they didn’t go about it the same way. Or take the same necessary risks.

So it wasn’t new to Jake to see the two act so friendly earlier in the evening upon their apparent reunion. And it wasn’t surprising to see that the two had split off from the rest of the group after Bradshaw’s little performance to chat amongst themselves for a few minutes.

What was surprising to Jake was to spot the two still together in the Hard Deck’s parking lot.

He couldn’t leave the bar as soon as he would’ve liked; he'd be damned if he let anyone else know just how much Parrot’s comments had irked him. So after Parrot and Rooster had been gone for a few minutes, he respectfully excused himself for the evening and followed suit. As he stepped out the front door and took a breath of the fresh night air, he paused immediately after hearing the familiar voices. He took a step back, hoping to avoid stepping foot underneath the bar’s bright exterior lights, and tried to remain out of sight.

Fortunately for Jake, the pair didn’t notice him leaving. He watched curiously as Bradshaw led Wells to his Bronco, before he opened the door to the passenger’s side for her very cordially. She laughed, and politely used the arm he offered to help herself up and into the vehicle.

“I like the shirt, by the way,” he heard Wells say.

Bradshaw shut the passenger side door before heading around to the driver’s side. As he walked, his head tilted backwards as he let out a bark of a laugh. “Thanks. Are you gonna try and steal this one, too?”

… Now that was surprising.

And definitely was information worth holding onto.

Bradshaw started up the Bronco, backed out of the parking spot, and in what felt like the blink of an eye, the two were headed off into the night.

Jake was left standing in the entryway of the Hard Deck, speechless and desperately trying to make sense of what the hell he had just witnessed.

The trip back to Clara’s assigned housing was a quiet one, save from her soft spoken directions. If it was a five minute walk, the drive had to have only been a minute or so.

Bradley was thankful that the USS Gerald R. Ford had departed from Miramar instead of Oceana for the most recent stint. Since he had already taken the cross-country trip in his beloved vehicle beforehand, and left it parked at the base, it was readily available for the special detachment. The Bronco was practically made for the West Coast: few things were better than taking a nice drive through the quiet suburbs after a night out with the cool breeze blowing from the ocean.

Although, the calming drive was arguably better when he was accompanied by another.

All too soon, Bradley was pulling into the driveway of the small bungalow, which didn’t look that different from the one he’d been assigned himself just a few blocks over. He put the car in park, and looked over at Clara reluctantly.

“Thanks for the lift,” she said quietly, reaching over for the door handle. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Wait,” Bradley requested, for the third time that evening. “... Can we talk?”

Thankfully, Clara looked unbothered by his request. “Sure,” she replied easily, dropping her hand and settling back into her seat. She turned to look at him expectantly. “What do you wanna talk about?”

Anything. Everything. Bradley hadn’t had a face to face conversation with her in months, and he’d been alone with her for maybe ten minutes total the entire evening thus far. There were many things he wished he could bring up, but he found himself constantly looping back around to the most pressing issue on his mind.

“So… you’re really flying with Hangman, huh?”

Clara’s face faltered a little bit. “Yeah, it seems that way.”

Bradley remained silent, unsure of how to condense his vast thoughts on the topic into an appropriate response.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she continued, “And I’m obviously not his biggest fan, either. But this is the job. I can handle it, don’t worry.”

It wasn’t Clara’s inability to do her job that worried Bradly; rather, it was Hangman’s inability to do his job safely that was the cause for the most concern. Seresin was a notorious risk taker, and while that had only ever meant sticking out his own neck, if Clara was going to be flying with him for a good portion of this detachment- and possibly mission- that made his risk taking ways all the more dangerous.

Bradley could tell, just by looking at the tired look on Clara’s face, that she had already given some thought to the matter. She knew what she was in for, and Bradley feared it. But he could tell she didn't want him to remind or hound her about it. So it was all Bradley could do to drop the subject and desperately hope that Hangman had enough sense to consider the heightened consequences of his actions from there on out.

“Was what Hangman said true?” he asked then. “About Slugger?”

Clara gave him a small nod.

He could tell by the sullen look on her face, and by her reaction earlier that evening in the bar after Hangman’s comments, that it was a sensitive topic still. While Bradley was curious, he wanted to be cautious, and he definitely didn’t want to push her too far. “When’d you find out?”

“Yesterday,” Clara laughed once humorlessly. “Just as we received our orders.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was. And I was completely blindsided by it too- makes me wonder how the hell Hangman managed to hear about it already.”

The naval aviator community seemed small more days than not, so while it was a little surprising, it wasn’t that far-fetched to believe that Hangman had gotten some inside scoop from someone over at Oceana.

“I don’t know if Slugger’s going to be able to carry on afterwards, or if she’ll request separation,” Clara continued, her eyes falling downward to the floor mats that Bradley knew he should have had cleaned by then. “But I guess it doesn’t matter… I just have to get through this detachment, and then everything will work itself out from there, I guess.”

Bradley couldn’t help but feel sympathy for her. Whatever Slugger decided, it would most likely result in Clara losing the partner she’d been flying with for years. And while it wasn’t as nearly a tragic loss as it could have been, it still was a loss, and would still mean significant change for her.

“Well, if you ever need to talk about anything, I’m here for you.”

Clara looked up from the floor, quickly rolling her head across her shoulders to peer over at him instead. “I know,” she replied quietly with a small smile.

A few moments of comfortable silence passed between the two. As Bradley looked at her, he swore he felt his heart wrench. The moment alone they’d finally managed to snag only reiterated to himself just how much he had missed her over the past few months. And just how royally screwed he really was.

“You know, there is one good side effect from the whole situation with Slugger,” Clara pointed out, breaking the silence.

He raised his brows, intrigued. “Oh yeah, what’s that?”

“It’s given me more to think about regarding my reenlistment.”

“Have you made a decision about that yet?” Bradley inquired, trying not to appear any more interested than what would be considered appropriate.

Clara gave him a look that suggested she caught on to his enthusiasm anyways. “Not yet.”

He was well aware of the fact that in a few months, Clara would have to make a decision on whether or not to reenlist for another 6 years. While his own reenlistment decision was still over 2 years away, Bradley couldn’t help but be interested in where Clara stood on the matter. She had made some comments to him in passing about it over the past year or so, but had never said anything concrete to indicate what she was leaning towards.

Bradley knew he shouldn’t have an opinion on the matter… but he did. He wanted her to stay, wanted her to reenlist. Clara was damn good at her job. Maybe Bradley was biased in thinking so, but maybe not- she’d graduated from TOPGUN just as he had, after all. She’d been selected for the special detachment, too. Biased thinking or not, Bradley was more than willing to argue that the Navy would lose one of its great assets if, or when, the day that Clara Wells decided to walk away ever came.

“The whole thing with Slugger has me thinking,” Clara elaborated, “I’m getting to the age where I need to start figuring all that out.”

Their thirties were right around the corner for both of them. His own birthday was just a month or so away. The changing decades had crossed Bradley’s mind more than once as of late, but apparently for different reasons than it had crossed Clara’s. Respectfully, he pointed out, “You still have time to make decisions about that.”

“Maybe,” Clara conceded, albeit a little reluctantly. “But the point still stands. For the longest time, I thought that the decision wouldn’t have to be made. I thought that without a doubt, when the time came, I’d reenlist, that I’d really want to buckle down and focus on my career. But…”

“But what?”

“I realized that if I were to walk away at this very moment, I don’t have anyone out there waiting for me. No kids. No family- save my aunt… No one special.”

A slightly less comfortable silence passed between them as they both processed her words.

“I don’t know if that’s something I can be okay with,” Clara confessed timidly. “... And since I don’t have anything like that yet, I’m wondering if I may need to actually leave the service. I may need to go out into the world and find it for myself, you know?”

Bradley could understand the sentiment of not wanting to be alone. Her father had already been gone a few years, and since he only had his grandmother left, he wasn’t in a dissimilar boat. But he just hoped Clara would never truly feel that she was alone, so long as she continued to let him be in her life in some capacity. For everything she had done for him over the years, he hoped to at least be able to offer her that.

“What if you could have both?” Bradley dared to wonder. “What if you could have a career and a family? … Or just someone to come home to?”

Clara scoffed, but it was lighthearted. She turned to look at him, with sadness, not anger, lingering in her eyes. “That’s a lot to ask of somebody.”

“Not for someone who truly understands what our line of work entails,” he disagreed, but lightly. Not for someone who understands all the hard work would be so very much worth it, if it meant to be with you.

“Well, If you’ve got any leads, send them my way,” Clara joked, effectively breaking some of the tension. “It’s getting late, and we’ve got an early morning.”

Bradley glanced at the dashboard, and grimaced. How the hell had it gotten so late?!

Clara leaned forward, wrapping her fingers around the door handle once more. However, she paused, and turned to look at him once again. “Brad?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you promise me something?”

“Anything.” He meant it.

“This mission… I need it to come first,” she told him seriously. “I know there’s history between us, and I know we’ve never really worked together before, but-”

“The mission comes first,” Bradley interjected full-heartedly, completely understanding the point that she had been trying to convey. Despite the conflicting feelings he felt about her wreaking havoc in his personal life, that was a concept he was more than willing to get behind.

Clara looked relieved by his response. She regarded him carefully for another beat, as if deciding whether to say anything further. But she must’ve ultimately decided against it, instead saying, “It really is good to see you again, Brad.”

“It’s good to see you too, Red Cross.”

She smiled at the nickname, a gesture that made his heart wrench again, before finally opening the door and hopping out. Bradley waited patiently, watching dutifully as she walked up the steps to the front door. It was only when she had gotten inside the house that he felt comfortable leaving and resuming the drive to his own assigned housing.

As the cool night breeze blew through his hair a few minutes later, Bradley felt oddly at peace.

He tried to ignore the ominous voice in his head that suggested it might be the only moments of peace he’d get for the entire detachment.

“Hangman, Parrot- I’d like to speak to the two of you for a moment.”

The feeling of being called out specifically by the Vice Admiral after the mission briefing the following morning was something akin to a teacher asking a student to stay behind after class. Or at least, that’s what it felt like to Clara.

However, she was determined not to let any discomfort show as everyone else left room to file out into the hangar, where their instructor for the training detachment would be introduced. Bob gave her a really brief sympathetic look as he passed by, as did Phoenix.

Clara couldn’t bring herself to make eye contact with Bradley much that morning. Something about the reality of the situation- namely the fact that they were suddenly in very close proximity, with the potential of going on a mission together for the first time ever in their careers- seemed to be finally sinking in. Besides, after their conversation the previous evening, she could easily imagine the look that must’ve been on his face upon hearing the Vice Admiral’s request.

Once everyone else had filed out of the room, led by Rear Admiral Solomon, the door closed, and Vice Admiral Simpson turned to them with a stern look on his face. Although, it wasn’t exactly out of the ordinary for him to sport such a stony expression.

“Thank you, I’ll make this quick,” the Vice Admiral promised, glancing between them. “I understand that your partnership for this detachment came as a surprise, and is not what either of you expected.”

Clara didn’t dare to do anything but keep her focus on Vice Admiral Simpson, but she could’ve sworn she saw Hangman turn his head ever so slightly towards her, as if to give her a look.

“However,” he continued, his tone shifting quickly and easily from one almost cordial to one with a sense of resoluteness that was not to be questioned by anyone with some wits about them. “This decision was reached by myself and Rear Admiral Simpson, with input from none other than Admiral Kazansky. This decision was also made following the direct recommendations from your respective squadron COs. As such, failure to give your best effort to operate in the capacity of which you have been assigned will be taken as indication of a lack of respect for all of us involved.”

Clara couldn’t help but feel increasingly nervous as she processed the seriousness of the Vice Admiral’s words. She wasn’t certain what had brought on this type of speech and specific conversation, but she couldn’t help but wonder if her and Hangman’s little scene at the Hard Deck the previous evening had been witnessed by more than just their fellow Patches.

“Understand this: the needs of this mission will come first. And while the two of you have been paired together for now, and are expected to perform to the high standards for which you have been trained and have demonstrated out in the field, the fact of the matter is this: one of you may get chosen for the mission, and the other may not.”

That was news to Clara. Though she’d been paired to fly with Slugger for almost the entirety of the previous missions she’d been on, she couldn’t recall a time where they’d both been selected for a detachment and then subsequently separated.

Though she was still coming around to the idea in general, Clara knew one thing with the utmost certainty: if Hangman was one of the few chosen for the mission, she sure as hell was going to give every effort to make sure she was chosen for it too.

The Vice Admiral’s tone eased up- but only slightly. “If either of you want any sort of chance to be selected for this mission, I suggest you find a way to be cohesive, and quickly. Let’s just say it will not hurt your chances for the two of you to find a way to work together.” He gave them each a hard look. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Sir!”

“Good,” he declared. “Now, go rejoin the others in the hangar. You’re dismissed.”

Clara felt like she couldn’t get out of the room fast enough. She headed down the hallway towards the exit with decent urgency.

Hangman was right behind her, sporting a grin that suggested that he hadn’t just been technically called and subsequently chewed out. “Well, well, Parrot, looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us.”

Clara almost froze mid-step at his nonchalant tone. Almost. She settled for giving him an incredulous look instead. “That’s all you have to say?” she implored.

“Did you expect me to offer you some profound wisdom or something?”

The gears in her mind started to turn. “Someone must’ve seen us at the Hard Deck last night.”

“Clearly,” Hangman agreed, unhelpfully.

Clara came to a stop before the exit door. Through the small window, she could see that the rest of the group had already taken their seats. By the looks of it, they’d saved two seats at a table right up front for her and Hangman. Great.

She turned to her newly-dubbed partner. “Listen- the Vice Admiral’s right. We need to find a way to work together. I’m not going to blow my chances of getting chosen for the mission just because we can’t find some way to be civil with each other.”

Hangman’s brows furrowed, and placed a hand over his heart. “You wound me, Parrot,” he exclaimed, with mild theatrics. “This might be surprising, but I actually agree with you.”

That was surprising.

“Sweetheart, we can play nice ‘til the cows come home,” he continued, still sounding as though he was taking way too much joy out of their situation. “And when we get chosen for the mission, I’ll show you what it’s like to fly with the finest aviator the Navy has to offer.”

Normally, Clara would’ve felt tempted to scowl at his cockiness. But at that moment, she found it oddly reassuring. Hangman wasn’t one to be motivated by much other than his own will, so it was reassuring that seemed ready to play ball. At least for now.

“Besides,” Hangman said then, “You never know- I could teach you a thing or two that you could take back to Slugger.”

Clara opened her mouth to respond, but Hangman brushed past her, opening the door and walking out into the hangar in a flash.

Although she wanted to give him an earful for the snide comment, it was pointless. She wordlessly followed after him and walked out onto the hangar floor.

If there was one thing that gave her some comfort, it was that there was no fathomable way that the day could get any worse.

Pete Mitchell wasn’t expecting a warm welcome upon his introduction to aviators recalled for the detachment.

He was alright with that. The trainees didn’t have to like him; they only needed to adhere to the lessons and hopefully absorb the wisdom he had to offer.

… Though he certainly would feel better about the whole thing if they found it in themselves to try and at least try and tolerate him.

Pete knew his work was cut out for him as he walked through the hangar, headed towards the podium from which Warlock had just stepped down from. As soon as his name was spoken, he saw the less than thrilled looks that fell over the faces of many of the ones who turned around in their seats to watch him approach. The Vice Admiral’s stern look was almost favored over some of the other looks he received.

But if Ice had chosen him for this, Pete wasn’t about to let some disappointed aviators and a doubting Vice Admiral stop him from giving it a shot.

The F/A-18 natops felt heavy in his hand as he walked, but it served as a good grounding point to distract him from the particularly heated look he felt coming from a particular recruit seated at one of the back tables.

Pete fixed himself behind the podium, and his eyes scanned over the group of twelve aviators in front of him for the first time. As far as he was concerned, they were all sitting in enviable seats. Half of them would have the honor of being chosen for the mission. The other half would have some comfort knowing for certain that they’d at least live to see one more day.

Though he didn’t make direct eye contact, he saw the trainee shooting daggers at him from the back of the room out of his peripheral vision.

To his credit, Bradley Bradshaw at least looked professional, as he had a reputation of being. Even if he was a little too reserved at times. Upon a first glance, he didn’t look any more particularly bothered by Pete’s presence than the rest of his peers did. It was only because Pete knew what signs to look for that he realized he was being given a cold look by the young man at all.

Pete’s eyes worked from the back tables all the way up to the front, trying to place the faces with the names and callsigns he’d read in the briefing notes and seen briefly during his meeting with Cyclone and Warlock the previous afternoon.

His eyes fell to the table right before him, where a woman and a man were seated. Both of them had been at the Hard Deck the night before. He glanced at the woman, and immediately felt a pang of guilt.

It really was her.

Pete had had doubts about the woman’s identity the previous evening, but judging by her clenched jaw and the less than warm look she had in her eyes as she regarded him, there was no doubting her identity anymore. Now that he was certain of who she was, it was with a dull sense of dread that Pete realized that she must’ve known exactly who he was too.

…It was going to be a long day.

Better to get on with it, Pete chided himself internally, placing his hands on either side of the podium as he mentally prepared himself to address the group at large.

Regardless who any of them were, and their feelings about him, it was time to get to work.

It was time for them to show him what they were made of.

He couldn’t believe it.

He couldn’t fucking believe it.

There really wasn’t a word apt enough to describe the combination of vexation and disbelief he was feeling.

For all his effort in making sure his feelings regarding a particular WSO didn’t get in the way of his performance during the detachment, it was bitterly ironic for Bradley to discover he’d been entirely too focused on all the possibilities. As if Bradley didn’t have enough on his plate already, it figured that the universe would have yet another laugh at his expense by abruptly throwing the one person he didn’t care to see ever again back into his life. Even if it was to be for a short stint, it wasn’t going to be managed very easily, that much was for certain.

“Rooster!”

He kept his head forward, though his grip on the handle of his flight bag tightened as he continued to follow the rest of the group making their way outside. Great. They hadn’t even had the chance to perform a quick inspection of the aircrafts before proceeding with the day’s designated exercise, and he was already attempting to pull him aside.

“Bradley!”

He kept walking, his teeth grinding down firmer.

“Lieutenant Bradshaw!”

Finally, and with great reluctance on his part, Bradley stopped, and turned to address the man who had been beckoning him. “Yes, sir?”

Maverick’s facial expression was nearly indiscernible, largely in part due to the aviators he donned and the bright sunshine covering the rest of his face. “Let’s not do it like this.”

It seemed they were already doing it like “this”, or like something at least. One being singled out of twelve? Bradley could practically feel more wandering eyes falling upon the two of them standing out in the open with every passing second.

“Are you gonna wash me out?” he demanded, though he tried to make it sound as respectful as he could manage. Unfortunately, the older man did outrank him. For now.

“That’ll be up to you, not me.”

Bradley narrowed his eyes, wondering what the hell that was even supposed to mean. Regardless, he didn’t want to keep standing there as he tried to figure it out. “Am I dismissed?”

He knew Maverick had no choice, and thankfully, Maverick knew that too. “Yes.”

Something was off.

Natasha squinted, half from the blinding sun and half from curiosity, as her eyes wandered over to Rooster, who had been specifically called out by Maverick.

It was impolite to stare, and it’d be decently embarrassing to get caught watching them, but she can’t help but be intrigued. What could they possibly have to talk about? None of them had even gotten up in the air yet!

She heard shuffling beside her, alerting her to her WSO’s presence. Sure enough, she turned her head and was met with the sight of none other than Bob. Natasha flashed him a small smile and refocused on the inspection at hand.

“What’s that about?”

Despite being several yards away, Natasha could hear Hangman’s inquiry from the other side of his own assigned F/A-18. She made her way around her own aircraft subtly. She heard Bob right behind her, checking things off the mental list for the inspection as he went along too.

When Hangman and Parrot came into view, Natasha’s curiosity peaked further. She felt confident enough to say she knew both of them fairly well, so she also felt confident saying she had a pretty good feeling of how their partnership was going to fare. Despite what had to have been a friendly warning from the Vice Admiral earlier that morning, it seemed the pair were already on rocky water.

Parrot frowned at Hangman, who was taking way less care than Natasha had to make sure his ogling of Rooster and Maverick wasn’t obvious. “It’s none of our business,” Parrot admonished gruffly, “Let’s keep focused.”

“Jeez,” Hangman said, holding his hands up in mock defense. “Didn’t think you’d be so keen to get up in the air with me, Sweetheart.”

“I’m not,” Parrot disagreed quickly, not evening sparing him another glance. “Just want to get this day over with, is all.”

“You and me both.”

Natasha shook her head to herself and turned to make a quiet comment to Bob about the ill-fated partnership. However, when she saw the look on his face, which included flitting eyes that refused to look at her for any longer than a second, she decided to keep the comment to herself.

Her curiosity about Maverick and Rooster, and Hangman and Parrot, was temporarily set aside as she proceeded to dare and sneak glances at her WSO instead.

When the conversation with Maverick was concluded, Bradley turned, and headed towards his plane briskly. Natasha didn’t miss the way Bob glanced at Rooster with the same anxious look as he passed.

Did Bob know something?

…

Payback, Fanboy, and Rooster were chosen to take on the legendary Maverick in the dogfighting exercise first.

The rest of the group holed up in one of the rec rooms, listening to the happenings over the radio as they killed time. Natasha and Bob were positioned right by the radio, listening patiently for any indication of what they were going to encounter themselves soon enough.

They were somewhat joined by Parrot, who sat on one of the nearby couches. She was less obvious about her active listening to the radio though, as she pretended to be interested in the various photos and memorabilia decorating the walls instead. Natasha knew she was only pretending though; every time a certain Lieutenant’s voice could be heard over the radio, Parrot’s head turned ever so slightly to face the radio’s direction.

Hangman was seated beside her, but he busied himself with fidgeting with a model plane that almost certainly been used previously for teaching and demonstrative purposes.

“This guy needs an ego check,” Hangman declared, right after Maverick had finished explaining the rules of the dogfighting exercise.

Payback and Fanboy followed Maveric’s challenge with a friendly bet of two hundred pushups, and then the fight was on.

Natasha couldn’t help but notice as Parrot’s interest in the radio chat became less than subtle when Rooster suddenly went below the hardeck. In fact, from then on, she seemed to be clinging on to every word he said.

Natasha knew that something was going on between Rooster and Parrot, but the other young women’s piqued interest was another matter entirely. Despite her efforts to look distracted, she was nearly at the edge of her seat. And every time she turned her head in Natasha and Bob’s direction, her face suggested that she was not just fearing, but rather expecting something to go awry.

… It seemed like Parrot and Bob knew something Natasha didn’t.

Natasha looked across from her and towards Bob, but he was still sneaking glances at Parrot, as if gauging her reaction. So instead, she dared to look over at Hangman.

Natasha had half-expected him to be fiddling with the model plane still, but to her mild surprise, he was staring right at her.

Hangman’s eyes flickered between Parrot, Bob, and the radio, before finally landing on her once more.

The suspicious look on Hangman’s face told her that he had noticed Parrot’s specific interest in radio communication throughout the exercise as well.

…

Later, Natasha watched out the window as Rooster proceeded with the two hundred pushups he’d been given. Though it was admirable that he had taken the fall for Payback and Fanboy, she questioned why it had been necessary in the first place. Flying below the hard deck was not typical for Rooster, even if it had been on “accident”. He was the kind of pilot who was usually two, if not three, steps ahead of everyone else. He didn’t make mistakes. But this time, he had.

What was it about Maverick that had Rooster acting so out of character?

Clara was a little peeved, to say the least.

Just seeing Maverick, let alone processing the fact that he was going to be the special detachment’s instructor for the imminent future, was unsettling. From her deceased father’s tales of the legendary aviator, he had become something more akin to a ghost legend than that of an actual person.

But then she remembered that ghosts had more of an excuse to miss a celebration of life for their former RIO than an actual person would have, and the anger began to take up residence internally once again.

Speaking of anger, Bradley was in a rare form due to his own. Clara hadn’t seen him this upset in many, many years, and despite having been one of the calmest and clear-headed pilots she had ever witnessed first hand, Bradley certainly wasn’t acting like it.

Knowing what she knew about why Bradley was so bent out of shape, she could hardly blame him, but she worried about him negatively affecting his own chances of being considered for the mission if he didn't find a way to keep the anger in check. His anger-fueled gut reactions had already earned him a sizable round of two hundred pushups.

Clara thought she could at least try to push past her less than pleasant feelings about Hangman for the day, but on top of the unaddressed resentment she felt towards Maverick, and the quickly overwhelming concern she was beginning to feel about Bradley, Hangman’s usual annoying but tolerable antics were straight up incendiary.

For their first run of the dogfighting exercise, they’d been paired with Phoenix and Bob.

Clara was able to convince herself that everything was fine, at least from the point of hopping in the plane, taking off, and getting up into the air. And for the most part, everything was fine; her job in that regard was the same, no matter who was sitting in the front seat.

Hangman was pretty quiet throughout that time as well. Not a single one of them had managed to shoot down Maverick yet, and he was more than determined to take that metaphorical crown for himself. He was focused, and more serious than she expected him to be. He had his game-face on.

But once they actually got into the air, and Hangman’s unnecessary commentary began, so did the trouble.

“Hey Phoenix,” Hangman said, and Clara could hear the smirk in his voice. “Hows about we tell everybody that BOB stands for something? Other than Robert, I mean.”

“Shut up, Hangman,” Clara quipped, more than ready to get the exercise done and over with. She looked down at the radar, but saw no sign of their illusive instructor. A quick visual scan of the area confirmed just as much. “Bob, you see anything?”

“Nothing yet,” he replied.

“Don’t take the bait, Bob,” Phoenix told him, circling back around to Hangman’s jest. “Wanna know why we call him Hangman?”

“Oh, I know,” Hangman said then, apparently more than willing to supply an answer to his own stupid question. “I got it: Baby On Board.”

Clara rolled her eyes, offended on behalf of her friend and with her newly-partnered pilot in general. As his laughs filled the cockpit, she began, “Would you just-”

She was cut off when the plane was thrown to the side, and Maverick flew right past the pair of them.

“Shit!” Hangman exclaimed.

“Greetings, aviators,” Maverick could be heard saying over the comms. “Fight’s on!”

“Let’s go!” Clara encouraged Hangman, surprising herself when her words came out more supportive and less demanding. Maybe she wanted a hand in taking Maverick down just as much as Hangman did. She put on a game-face of her own as she quickly put eyes on Maverick up ahead.

“Copy that,” Hangman confirmed. “Alright, Phoenix, let’s take this guy out!”

He gave her an order to break right, before going the completely opposite direction.

What the-

“Where’s he going?” Bob asked.

“No, no, no,” Clara said to Hangman, frowning heavily. “This is a bad idea.”

“That’s why we call him Hangman,” Phoenix supplied to her WSO. “He’ll always hang you out to dry.”

“Leaving your wingman?” Maverick observed, sounding highly amused. “There’s a strategy I haven’t seen in a while.”

“He called you a man, Phoenix,” Hangman pointed out in a very juvenile manner. “You gonna take that?”

“So long as he doesn’t call you a man!”

Clara urged her pilot, “Hangman, get down there and get him off them!”

But it was of little use: she might as well have been on the ground, miles away, as her words fell upon deaf ears. It was extremely evident that Hangman had a plan of his own, and come hell or high water, he was going to see it through.

“For all you folks at home, this is how you bury a fossil.”

He attempted to maneuver to get Maverick in the line of fire, but it was moot. Before he could do so, Maverick successfully shot Phoenix and Bob.

As their curses flooded the radio, Clara cursed herself. “Seriously, Hangman?!”

But Hangman ignored her. The sudden turn of events into a one versus one scenario seemed to light a new fire underneath him, and he had become beyond reproach. It was clear he was not going to listen to anyone.

A few moments later, Maverick pulled up, and Hangman followed. Both he and Clara were blinded by the sun. Though Clara attempted to turn her head around and locate their instructor, she was unsuccessful.

Meanwhile, Hangman was grasping at straws, asking Phoenix for help locating him instead.

“I’m dead, dickhead,” Phoenix reminded him rather poignantly.

Bob added, “See ya in the afterlife, Bagman.”

Maverick shot them down shortly after.

…

The burn of two hundred pushups did nothing to soothe Clara’s rising anger.

There must be something in the water.

That was the only reasonable explanation Jake could provide for the events of the day. Everyone was in such a mood.

Though she had talked a big game about trying to get along that morning, Parrot wasn’t making it easy on him to hold up his end of the deal. It seemed he couldn’t make any decision without her voicing her disapproval.

He knew of her reputation to be particularly chatty over the comms, which had apparently played a role in her earning her callsign, and Jake also knew Parrot had never been particularly fond of him, but even he could tell she was in a particularly unpleasant mood that day. Maybe it had something to do with the talk from the Vice Admiral earlier. Maybe it had something to do with the two hundred pushups they’d been ordered to do. Maybe it had something to do with Rooster. Hell, it could even have had something to do with Maverick- Jake immediately noticed how tense Parrot got from her seat beside him when their instructor had been introduced that morning.

Even Rooster was off his game, which was already subpar to begin with. Typically, he was too cautious, and quite frankly, Jake was surprised he had gotten as far as he had in his career with his crippling inability to take any risks. But lately, Rooster’s behavior was way over on the other end of the spectrum. Breaking the hard deck? Openly taunting their instructor in a way that was borderline insubordination? Hell, Rooster was taking risks that even he had better sense than to try and get away with.

For their second, and thankfully, final, dogfighting exercise run of the day, he, Parrot, and Rooster were getting another shot at Maverick.

Jake watched the interactions between Rooster and Parrot as closely as he dared, which was technically pretty close. However, though he had seen them leave the Hard Deck together the previous evening, the two weren’t displaying any outright signs of affection towards one another. In fact, if Hangman hadn’t seen Parrot's obvious concern for Rooster earlier in the day when he’d hit that snag with Maverick during his first run, Jake probably would’ve been able to write off the entire thing altogether.

But there’d been several signs, and they all seemed to say one thing: something was going on. And since Jake seemed to be out of the loop, he decided to take it upon himself to get to the bottom of it.

“So, Rooster, mind if I ask you a personal question?”

“Would it matter if I did?”

Jake could hear the other man’s displeasure very clearly. This’ll be fun. “So, what’s the story with you and Maverick? Seems like he’s got you a little rattled.”

“Focus, Hangman,” Parrot warned from behind. “I’ve already done two hundred pushups thanks to you, and I’m not about to do more.”

“It’s none of your business,” Rooster snapped at him. “Parrot, you see anything?”

“Nothing yet,” she answered. “Wait…”

Rooster huffed, “Where the hell is he?”

“Been here the whole time.”

Jake’s jaw dropped as Maverick, who had apparently been flying right underneath them, maneuvered his plane up and around Roosters’, so that he was inverted above him. “Holllly shit…”

“See me now?” Maverick asked coyly.

Jake continued to watch in a stunned silence. Parrot must’ve been stunned too; for the first time that day, it seemed like she had nothing to say.

Maverick and Rooster exchanged a few more choice words, before suddenly, both planes went downward, spirling around one another.

“What is with these two?” Jake wondered out loud,

Parrot, purposefully or not, did not make any comment towards his remark. Instead, she said, “See if you can get in a good position to get Maverick.”

But that was a feat easier said than done. While Jake had been able to maneuver them into a good spectating position, the downward spiral their wingman and instructor were entangled in offered merely a 50/50 chance of him being able to hit Maverick if a shot was attempted. And while Jake was gutsy, he was pretty sure the Vice Admiral would severely disapprove of him taking those odds, even if it was only a training simulation.

“Why aren’t they stopping?” Parrot said suddenly.

Maverick and Rooster were still in a tight locked spiral, quickly falling towards the ground.

Jake scoffed, though his joking facade was starting to slip as he began to process the gravity of the situation unfolding before their eyes.

Parrot added, with decent concern, Jake would later note, “What is this, a game of chicken?!”

Honestly, that was what it seemed like.. “Well, technically, Rooster is-”

“Shut up, Hangman!”

Though Jake could hear Maverick and Rooster exchanging less than pleasant words once again, he was concerned with the more pressing issue: their planes were still very, very quickly barreling towards the desert ground. Jake glanced down at the controls, before warning them, “Hard Deck’s 5000 feet, fellas! You’re running out of room.”

“Someone pull up, damn it!” Parrot chimed in.

“Your strategy is about to run us into the ground,” Maverick said, directed to Rooster. “What’s your move?”

Thankfully, the two pulled up a moment later, with Maverick taking the lead.

“Come on, Rooster!” Jake encouraged, surprising himself. He began to direct the plane over towards them for backup. “You got him! Drop down and take the shot!”

“It’s too low!” Rooster disagreed.

Capitalizing on his trainee’s reluctance, Maverick hit the brakes. He came to an apparent stop in the air and Rooster soared past him. Maverick aimed, took the shot, and Rooster was toast. “That’s a kill.”

“Damn it!” Rooster cursed.

Jake shook his head to himself. “Same old Rooster.”

“Shut up, Hangman,” Parrot berated him. “Mav’s coming for us next!”

But with Rooster gone, it didn’t take long at all for Maverick to defeat them in a one versus one scenario for the second time that day.

At some point, Hondo took pity on them, or he just got tired of counting. Either way, he attempted to dismiss them.

“Alright, that’s enough.”

Bradley opted to ignore his offer. If the other two wanted to quit, fine. But he had earned himself those pushups, again, and he was going to see them through.

However, Hangman on the other hand didn't need to be told twice. He sprung up and off the ground with an ease that could only have been obtained by the Navy’s rigorous requirements for physical upkeep. He looked down at Bradley and Clara as he dusted off his hands.

“Well, this was a hell of a first day,” he commented airily. Then to Clara, he added, “I’ll see you tomorrow, partner.”

Bradley just knew that Hangman’s echoing of her words had to have riled Clara up, but she said nothing in response. In fact, she didn’t move to get up off the ground either, though she did stop the pushups and sit up on her legs folded underneath her.

Hangman walked off, while Hondo looked down at Bradley. “Rooster, that’s enough, man.”

Bradley ignored him once again, just as he ignored the slight burning sensation in his arms, which would have done four hundred pushups by the time the day was over and done with..

His eyes were fixed on the ground, but he heard Hondo give up on requesting him to stop, and eventually, the other man walked away. Bradley expected Clara to get up and leave as well, but she stayed put where she was.

A few minutes later, the push ups were complete, but Bradley felt no more satisfied with himself than he had before he’d begun. He rolled over to sit on the concrete, which was still warmed by the setting sun.

The two sat there in silence for a few minutes, before Clara said softly, “I’m sorry about Hangman.”

Bradley fought the urge to scoff. Of everything that had happened that day, Hangman was the least of his problems at the moment. He didn’t look up at her, worried he’d say something he’d regret as he continued to silently seethe.

“It’s been a long day,” she tried then, though with a bit more firmness in her tone. “How about we go get a drink? … Just you and me?”

“I’m not in the mood.”

Bradley could tell by the awkward silence that followed that his snapped response must’ve hurt Clara’s feelings a bit. On any other day, he would’ve apologized immediately and taken her up on the offer, but at that moment, he just couldn’t.

“Listen,” Clara said, more forcefully still. “I’m not exactly thrilled with the situation either. Did you think I liked showing up here this morning and finding out that Maverick, of all possible people in the damn Navy, was going to be our instructor?”

He didn’t bother to answer her redundant question.

“But we can’t change the situation we’re in now,” she continued. “And pulling shit like you did today, pulling shit like that-”

“Like what?” Bradley challenged, whipping his head upwards and meeting her eyes for the first time since their conversation began. He saw her hesitate, but Clara seemed angry too, and she wasn’t quite ready to stand down, despite the opposition he was giving her.

Her eyes narrowed at him. “You know like what.”

“I thought we agreed to put the mission first. What happened with that?” he questioned, not caring how suspicious he sounded. Bradley sighed, before adding, “Look, I really don’t need you preaching to me right now.”

Bradley practically heard her jaw snap shut.

“I had my ass chewed out by the Vice Admiral this morning for something I haven’t even done yet. I still might strangle Hangman by the time this detachment’s over, despite the very clear warnings I’ve received not to,” she told him cooly, sounding more angry than he could ever recall having seen her throughout their many years of friendship. “So, forgive me if I’m trying to make sure my friend doesn’t get washed out so that I’m not left here alone.”

Before he could even realize how stupid it was, Bradley snapped back, “Well, as your friend, I suggest that you worry more about yourself, and less about me.”

Clara opened her mouth to respond, but then she closed it. She rose off the ground just as swiftly as Hangman had just a few minutes before.

She took a few steps away, before throwing her head over her shoulder and grumbling back at him, “I’ll see you later, Bradshaw.”

No Brad. No Bradley. Just Bradshaw.

Fuck.

As Bradley watched Clara walk away from him and back towards the hangar, he immediately regretted the harshness of his words. No matter how angry he’d been, he knew that Clara was extremely low on the list of those who deserved to face his wrath.

Damn Maverick for making him feel this way. Damn Maverick for bringing back the anger from years long since past that he could’ve sworn had been erased. … And damn himself for letting Maverick get the best of him anyway.

Bradley was so lost in his own pity party, he failed to realize Phoenix had approached him.

“Breaking the hard deck? Insubordination? Are you trying to get kicked out?”

It had been a long day.

Alright, maybe that was an understatement, but it didn’t make the thought any less true. Though Bob was beginning to feel a bit worn down, he didn’t want to let it show. Just one stop on the way home, and with any luck, he could be back at his temporary new home in an hour or two.

However, Bob knew the day was about to get just a little bit longer when he ran into Parrot leaving base that evening. She had come from the women’s locker room, and though a good shower was typically enough to help lift anyone’s mood after a long day, it didn’t seem to do the trick for Parrot. She still had a crestfallen look on her face, and didn’t even look up to meet his gaze until he audibly greeted her.

It was the most upset that Bob had seen her all day, and he had a few good hunches as to why that was.

Bob knew something was going on between Rooster and Parrot- he wouldn’t have been that observant of a friend if he didn’t. After they first met, it didn’t take Bob long to figure out that whoever Rooster was, Parrot was clearly very fond of him, as she talked about him frequently, and always with the highest regard. And it seemed Rooster cared just as much for her, as the man later flew across the country to attend her graduation from TOPGUN.

Rooster’s surprisingly reckless behavior throughout the day must not have been easy for her to witness. Something about Maverick had him throwing his usually cautious nature to the wind, and he’d been unpredictable at best.

But in addition to that, Bob had his suspicions about a grievance Parrot may have had with their new instructor for the training detachment. After she returned to TOPGUN following her father’s funeral, Bob had taken her to the Hard Deck for a few much-deserved drinks, and of course, food. Though she had probably gotten too drunk for her own good, Parrot did mention a couple of choice comments about one Pete “Maverick” Mithcell not attending her father’s service. Of course, Bob recognized the name- you’d be a fool in the Navy not to have at least heard of the infamous aviator. The following day, once Parrot had sobered up, he asked her about it, and she felt obligated to inform him that once upon a time, her father and Maverick had actually flown together. Though she apologized for the outburst, and insisted her words were too harsh, Bob could still tell that some possible resentment for Maverick remained.

But Bob wasn’t one to jump to conclusions about anything, let alone about people. He’d take Rooster and Parrot’s opinion of Maverick into serious consideration, but he didn’t want to condemn the man just yet.

Seeing Parrot still upset, hours after the majority of the tension-filled events had passed, made Bob pause, and he suspected that something yet again was amiss. Plus, Bob wasn’t one to blatantly ignore a friend in need.

“I’ve got an errand I was going to run,” Bob informed her, the gears already beginning to turn in his head. “And it’s something I could really use your opinion on. Do you maybe want to tag along? We can even grab a bite to eat afterwards- on me, of course.”

Clara’s downtrodden look lifted slightly, as her eyes shifted from a look of bleakness to one of curiosity. She offered him a small nod and an even smaller smile in confirmation.

But Bob still considered that a win. “Come on, let’s go.”

Chapter 7

Masterlist

A/N: Thank you so much for reading!💙 If you would like to be added to the taglist, please let me know!

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