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notsosweetchan · 1 month

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Warning: Smut (Minors Do Not Interact )

Paring - Minho x Reader -

- Ink and Affection -

Getting tattooed by her hot tattoo artist Minho, Y/N m was starting to feel a little lightheaded from the pain and his sexy voice.,"You're doing so well," Minho cooed, his voice sending shivers down Y/N's spine. "Just a little longer, and we'll have this masterpiece finished.“ His tattoo gun buzzed gently, the vibrations against her skin both calming and invigorating at the same time.

The stinging of the needle had dulled into a tolerable throb, replaced by a kind of intoxicating endorphin high. The tattoo parlor around them seemed to melt away as they worked, leaving only the two of them in their own private world.

Minho's strong hands guided the machine with practiced precision, his every movement deliberate yet artful. He was lost in his craft, the epitome of focused intensity.

Y/N couldn't help but admire the way his biceps flexed under his sleeves as he moved, or how his forearm tattoos danced along with each stroke. "Almost done," he muttered to himself more than to Y/N, the tension in the air practically palpable.

"I just need to add a few more finishing touches." As the last few lines etched themselves into her skin, Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine, less from the pain and more from the anticipation of what was to come. The tattoo gun hummed its final vibration before Minho put it down and stepped back to admire his work.

In the mirror, Y/N caught a glimpse of their reflection, marveling at the intricate design that now adorned her body. A delicate lotus flower blossomed from her collarbone, its petals extending across her shoulder blade in a sea of vibrant purples and pinks.

It was breathtaking. "Oh my god," she breathed, awe and disbelief mingling in her voice. "Minho, it's... it's perfect." He smiled, his eyes twinkling with pride. "I'm glad you like it." Their faces were so close now, their breath mingling in the space between them. Y/N could smell the faint scent of ink and aftershave on him, intoxicating and heady.

Her heart hammered against her ribcage as their eyes locked in a heated stare. It was the purest of seconds, suspended in time. She swore she could feel the electricity arcing between them, a live wire waiting to be touched. The tension was so thick, Y/N could practically taste it on her tongue.

But just as she was about to close the distance between them, Minho cleared his throat, stepping back and pretending nothing had ever happened. "Well, let's get this wrapped up and you can take a look at it properly," he said briskly, his professional demeanor returning as if by magic. Y/N felt a pang of disappointment but nodded mutely, trying desperately to hide the flush that crept up her cheeks.

Y/N has coming to his shop for the last3 months now getting 6 tattoos done by him, all for the chance to get closer to him. The most he had ever done was touch her hand once when she was wincing in pain. Maybe she was just seeing things that weren't there. “Hmm?” He looked up, a questioning eyebrow raised.

“Do you tattoo a lot of girls in here? The moment Y/N said it, she regretted it. “Why do you ask?He asked, a half-smirk playing on his lips. “No reason,” Y/N mumbled, the edge of the chair burning against her chest “I’m just curious I guess.”Minho chuckled lightly as he tied off the last of the bandage. “Y/N, I tattoo A lot of girls but none of the are as pretty as you.” heat crept into her cheeks as she looked away.

"You can't handle the truth, huh?" He sneers, leaning closer to her. She can see the tattoos on his arms and feels a shiver run down her spine. Just moments ago, he was giving her that same piercing look. Now, he's leaning over her, his arms resting on the cold armrests of the chair, his hand gently cupping her cheek. his hand and tilted her face to look at him. “I... I, I” she couldn’t get a word out, her heart hammering in her ears.

“ It’s okay Y/N, I’m into you too.” He whispered before closing the few inches between them and kissed her. Y/N's world swirled as Minho's lips met hers, soft yet insistent. His hands found their way into her hair, cradling her headas the kiss deepened. Her senses flooded with his scent, his touch, and the thrumming energy between them.

For a moment, all she could think about was him, the pain of the tattoo forgotten in the face of this newfound pleasure. Breaking away for air, Minho trailed kisses down her jaw to her neck, before whispering in her ear, "I've been wanting to do that for months." A shiver ran down Y/N's spine at his admission, and she couldn't help but smile.

"You could have just said something earlier," she managed to joke, her voice breathless. Minho chuckled, his lips ghosting along her jawline. "I like the chase," he teased. His hands found their way under her shirt, tracing the lines of the new tattoo with feather-light touches that made Y/N shiver anew.

As they remained entangled on the tattoo table, all thoughts of propriety and workplace ethics flew out the window. In this stolen moment, all that mattered was the two of them and the undeniable attraction that had been simmering between them for so long. Their movements became more urgent, fueled by months of pent-up longing and suppressed desire.

Minho caressed every inch of newly inked skin, as if committing each line and curve to memory. Y/N arched into his touch, moaning softly as he hit all the right spots. "I want you, Y/N," he breathed against her ear, his voice rough with need. "Tell me I'm not the only one thinking this is a good idea."

"God, yes," she managed to gasp, wrapping her trembling legs around his waist. "I've wanted you since the moment I walked into this damn shop.

"With that as permission, Minho wasted no time in standing her up and hiking her up on the counter, mindful of her fresh tattoo. He quickly unbuttoned her pants, revealing lacy panties that were already soaked through.

"Damn," he voice hoarsely, "You're soaked for me?" Y/N blushed in embarrassment but didn't deny it. She bit her lip as he slid her panties down her thighs and tossed them onto the floor. Minho's heated gaze raked over every inch of her exposed skin, as if he couldn’t believe she was really here with him.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he said reverently, before dipping his head to kiss her mound through her folds.

His tongue swirled around her entrance, licking her sensitive folds and teasingly circling her clit. Y/N moaned loudly, gripping the counter for support as wave after wave of pleasure courged throught her body.

Minho looked up at her, a wicked grin on his face, "I'm just getting started," he murmured before sucking on her clit hard enough to make Y/N's toes curl. Minho's skilled tongue and fingers were driving Y/N wild, each touch and suck sending her body into a tailspin of bliss. Her nails dug into the counter as she arched her back, lost in the overwhelming sensations he was evoking in her. She knew she wouldn't last much longer.

"Minho, I... I'm," she panted, unable to finish her sentence as waves of ecstasy crashed over her. He moaned her name as he continued his ministrations, driving her higher and higher until she came apart in his mouth, her entire body shaking with the force of her orgasm.

As she came down from her high, Minho stood up, wiping his face on his forearm. "My turn" she said, pushing him down on the chair and straddling his lap. She unzipped his jeans, his hard shaft springing out, already aching for her .

With a mischievous grin, she licked her lips and took him into her mouth, running her tongue around the head and shaft, savoring his salty musky scent. Minho groaned, his hands finding a way to her hair , guiding her but not forcing. He tasted different than she thought he would; better and addictive. In no time at all, she had him on the edge and he was moaning her name like a prayer.

"Y/N" he gasped out, "I'm close," he warned her, but Y/N was relentless, wanting to see how far she could push him. But he pulled her off him just in time, “bend over the table ”, he said between labored breaths.

Y/N complied, her back arched invitingly, her soaking wet pussy on display for him. Minho position himself behind her, lining up his hard erection with her entrance and with one swift thrust, he was inside of her, filling her to the hilt. With every push and pull of their hips, the tattoo table groaned under their weight.

Minho's hot body slid in and out of Y/N's, driving her crazy with desire. He grabbed her hips, guiding their rhythm as they moved together in a frenzied pace. Their moans echoed through the otherwise quiet tattoo parlor, filling the emptiness as they basked in their newfound passion. Y/N felt him hit her cervix, sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body, and she mewled loudly.

"Minho," she moaned his name out, unable to form complete words. His hands found her breast, massaging and pinching the skin gently as he continued his assault on her body. She could feel his fingers tracing the intricate design on her back, following the curves and lines of the lotus flower perfectly.

The pressure added another layer to their intense connection. "Oh fuck," he groaned, his hips speeding up even more as he felt her walls clench around him. Y/N's hair flew around them, tickling their faces as they lost themselves in the moment. Their kisses were desperate and hungry, filled with need and longing.

His lips trailed down her neck again, sucking at the sensitive skin there before returning to her earlobe where he nipped and nibbled gently. Her body shuddered under him as she neared her second orgasm of the session.

"Please," she managed to whisper between breaths, unable to ask for more than that simple plea. Minho pulled almost all the way out before thrusting back in with force, hitting that spot inside her that sent her spiraling over the edge once again; a scream tore through her lips as she came undone around him, her nails digging into the leather upholstery.

“That’s it baby ”, he panted, his voice laced with strain, “come for me ”. Minho didn't last much longer either, with one final thrust, he followed her over the edge, his hot seed filling her as he groaned out her name. They both collapsed on the table, panting and spent.

Neither of them moved for a moment, trying to catch their breaths and process what just happened. Y/N was the first to speak up "so, umm... not your usual tattoo session?" she joked nervously, breaking the silence. Minho chuckled, running a hand through his damp hair, "I'll say" he smirked back at her.

#stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids imagine #stray kids smut #skz x reader #skz imagines #skz imagine #skz smut #minho skz #minho stray kids #minho imagine #minho x reader #minho imagines #minho smut #lee know

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sardonic-the-writer · 7 months

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐬 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐀𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ includes: scout, engineer, heavy, medic, sniper, and spy (i forgot demo i'm so sorry)

↳ warnings: bad translations, slight mentions of world war two and malpractice

↳ song: with a little help from my friends—joe cocker

masterlist | commissions | carrd

𝐒𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐭

• He would be so smug about it

• Puffing his chest out and everything

• His friends in the past- and even family members -have teased him for mispronouncing words or speaking too fast, and it’s made him a bit self conscious about the way he talks. But after hearing that you find it endearing, its a giant ego boost for him

• “Yeah dat’s right! Who’s awesome? I’m awesome!” Scout smiles as he flexes his arms in your face, subjecting you to what he likes to call a surprise gun show. You pretend to hate it as you shove his arm away, but chuckle all the same

• He’s already gloated before that he already knew his accent was the best. Boston is the greatest place in the world after all! But hearing it from you really just sent him over the moon

• Makes a point to talk to you a lot more now; as if he didn’t already

• “Yo! Hey did you see that kill out there? I totally messed dat Spy up! One wrong step and pow! He’s dead meat!”

• “I saw Scout. I was covering your flank while you did it, remember?”

• “Yeah yeah, but I just thought you’d like ta hear about it again.”

𝐄𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐫

• Didn’t consider himself to have an accent until you pointed him out

• Sure, he says the occasional y’all and ain’t, but not enough to qualify as a whole different way of speaking

• It wasn’t until he dropped a hammer on his foot and cursed that he understood what you’d meant

• “What in the sam hill! Sweet hell!” He’d exclaimed, startled. Once the throbbing in his leg had subsided, Engineer replayed his words in his head, making a slight o with his mouth as he realized you were probably right. To some extent at least

• He was a born and raised Texas boy, so it makes sense that the culture rubbed off

• Doesn’t understand at first that you find it nice. Maybe he thought you pointed it out just because you could? He’s a bit distracted when it comes to anything but machinery, so he misses context sometimes

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐲

• Surprised that someone like you who can speak English fluently finds his mannerisms attractive

• Gets frustrated sometimes when he can’t remember certain words in English. Heavy is a very smart man, so it aggravates him when he looks illiterate in front of his team

• That’s why hearing that you like his mother tongue caught him by surprise

• “But you don’t know any Russian?” He’d rumbled out as a question. When you shook your head no, still sporting a smile, his eyebrows furrowed further

• “Nah. But I like hearing it when it comes from you. It sounds more natural. Like you’re more comfortable than normal, you know?”

• You’re technically right. When Heavy slips into Russian, often whilst talking to Sasha or simply forgetting that not everyone on the team know how to speak it, he is more comfortable in his words. They flow better, and he’s flattered that you’ve noticed

• One hundred percent offers to teach you Russian in his spare time. He finds it slightly adorable how you stumble over words in your broken translations, but always manages to softly correct you

• He’s a really good teacher

𝐌𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜

• Positively thrilled that you like his voice

• When you tell him for the first time, he goes into shock for a moment before breaking out into the biggest smile you’ve seen. Somehow its a perfect balance between excited and malicious

• “Do you hear zhat Archemedies? Mein freund here enjoys my accent!” He cooes at his bird, chuckling in a way that would make anyone’s insides squirm

• Once you look past Medic’s initially devious reaction, it’s very clear he enjoys knowing this

• If anything, the ex-doctor would have thought that you’d enjoy the more stereotypically romantic sounding languages. Spanish, Latin, etc

• German has always been considered harsh or scary sounding, and it turned a lot of people away from hiring him after the events of World War Two, which he understood. Still, Medic finds himself absolutely tickled that you are drawn to his accent

• Finds himself slipping more and more into German while doing checkups on you now. When he catches himself, he translates most of what’s he’s said back to you. But sometimes he’ll simply forget, and it leaves you wondering if he’s offered you a glass of water or the opportunity to swap your bladder out

• You sincerely hoped it was the former

𝐒𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐫

• Oh my god you killed him

• Sniper is very reserved. Living in his camper, hunting his own game for dinner instead of joining the others, literally pissing in jars, etc etc

• Being a man of few words comes part and parcel with that; which normally works out just find because Scout talks enough for ten people

• Hasn’t said much to you before. He mostly communicates in head nods or slight tilts of his coffee mug in your direction. Maybe a few ‘good mornin’s’ tossed around, but nothing more than that

• “You know, you should talk more.” You’d said to him one day while pouring a fresh pot of tea you had just boiled into your own mug. He preferred black coffee himself, but whatever floats your boat

• “You voice.” You elaborated after a sip. You must have noticed his confused look as you carried on. “It’s nice. Can’t imagine that you don’t have gals throwing themselves at you all the time because of it.”

• Suddenly very grateful he wasn’t drinking any of his brew at the time, because what you said surely would have made him choked

• He, in fact, had had a few ladies approach him in town before saying something along the same lines. Even a few fellas. But nothing made him blanch this strongly like you had

• Excuses himself as he walks out of the room suddenly, tilting his hat down to cover his face no one can see the furious red tint forming

• Sniper leaves you in the communal kitchen. Holding a steaming cup of liquid and looking very confused

𝐒𝐩𝐲

• Already knew before you told him

• To anyone else, it would have been passible as just curiosity. But Spy’s job is to know things, and it is an undeniable fact that you found his voice attractive

• Doesn’t utilize this weapon often. You are not a weak willed person swayed by just a few words, so when he needs something he pulls out all the stops

• Of course, that doesn’t stop him from being impressed when you eventually admit your little not-so-secret-secret to him. And of your own free will. He didn’t have to pry it out of you, which was a feat on its own

• Much like Heavy, he extends the offer of teaching you how to learn his language. Now that he no longer has this knowledge as a bargaining chip, he might as well seize the opportunity to teach you a proper language

• Considers using electroshock therapy to condition you faster, but nixes it pretty quick

• Again, like Heavy, he finds it cute how horrible you are at French. More amused than anything, but he can appreciate the way you practice verbs in your free time even when he isn’t leaning over your shoulder

• That you know of, that is

• Praises you often in french, letting excited phrases slip when you nail a particularly hard set of words

• “Merveilleux ! Tu t’améliores beaucoup, ma petite. Encore une fois.”

• While you don’t understand the full extent to his words, you smile and continue on, eventually realizing what he had said later in a fit of embarrassment

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futurecorps3 · 10 months

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can i request a jj x reader where she keeps saying she's sick but jj doesnt believe it and thinks it's just an excuse to not go to the midsummers or whatever u choose, but then when they both go, she passes out and jj gets worried and protective. thank uuu smm!!

𝐑𝐮𝐬𝐞

Masterlist<3

Summary: JJ thinks you're lying Pairing: JJ Maybank x kook!reader Warnings: JJ kind of being an ass lmao, sickness, mentions of headaches, reader faints and I think that's it, lmk if I missed any! Word Count: 2.6K Requested: Yes

A/N: Took me a while to figure this one out cause I think J wouldn't be like that in the first place but let's try!! Hope u like, nonnie<3

Everything sucked. There was no way a human could have this bad luck, and Y/N had begun to think the universe had it against her at this point. She had spent almost a month finding the perfect dress and headpiece for Midsummers' night, two months in convincing her parents to let her bring JJ as her plus one and a solid three weeks in convincing JJ.

Only for a mind bending migraine to come storming its way right in the morning. She tried ignoring it for a while, taking some pain-killers to try to ease the pain, but they did absolutely nothing. Her parents had left early to help the Camerons set everything up (sitting around and ordering people) and the party started around five, so she opted for sleeping to see if the headache would subside.

It didn't; she realized right when JJ's booming voice rang through her ears, waking her up. "Figured I'd come down here so we could get ready together!" Her boyfriend said with a grin, holding the tuxedo she had bought for him in his arms. She incorporated from her bed. Standing up with a little dizziness, she couldn't let slide and kissed him as a greeting.

"For an event, it took me days to convince you to go to, you truly are excited." Y/N smiled, feeling a little light-headed. "Did you shower?" She asked as she buried her head in his chest as JJ's arms wrapped around her waist "'Course mamma, just for you... but by the looks of it you haven't" he smiled as his girlfriend hit his chest playfully.

"You're right though, be right back". Y/N stepped in her bathroom as she heard JJ play some music on her speaker. Hopefully, the shower would help the pain she could no longer stand. She tried massaging her scalp and breathe in the scents of her soaps, relax in the water and whatnot but it didn’t help.

She felt as if someone was pushing her eyeballs into the inside her skull while pounding the sides of her head with a hammer, the worst migraine she ever had. Now, this whole thing was important for both Y/N and JJ, as it was the first time they’d be attending an event of this nature together… but she wasn’t sure the headache would allow her.

The thought made her sulk a little, but in the end, the migraine was stronger. She stepped out of the shower wrapped in a towel as well as her hair, watching JJ play around with her necklaces and rings. “J, I-I don’t think we can go” she muttered, disappointment clear in her shaking voice when she noticed how his face fell.

“What do you mean?” he sounded almost shocked. “My head’s been hurting like a motherfucker since I woke up, I-I tried taking some painkillers but they worked for shit and-“ “Y/N you ain’t gotta lie… just say you don’t wanna go with me”.

She couldn’t bear thinking JJ thought it had to do with him “Baby no, I-I’m serious! We could stay in and cuddle if you want, maybe watch Top Gun or-“ then he laughed. “Stop pretending”

“What?” “I know you don’t want me to meet all your kook friends and I know you're kind of ashamed of dating me even though you say you aren’t and-“ “What are you talking about!?”

This was a very JJ thing to think. And no, he wasn’t being manipulative. Y/N knew he meant every word he was saying. And that’s what hurt the most. He could get insecure and honestly, she couldn’t blame him. He grew up in a place that condemned him for the blood running through his veins, hearing things like “he’s just like his old man” or “a Maybank after all” when he fucked up.

Yes, he was reckless and stupid, but he was also kind and a good man. Y/N knew he had some reservations coming into this entire relationship with her because being friends differed completely from being boyfriend and girlfriend. The judgments they were to face were clear, but she always reassured him that as long as they were together they’d be okay.

She could see why he’d think that way. “It’s not like that, baby-“ “Except it is” he said, running his hands through his hair and pacing around the room. “Let’s go then” she gave in. Physical pain hurt way more than knowing JJ thought she was embarrassed to be dating him. She could handle it.

“Oh, so suddenly your headache goes away?” He snapped, throwing air quotes in the word headache which made Y/N, who was already getting her hair done, give him a look of “drop it” and he did, kissing her in the cheek before changing into his suit.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

When they got there, Y/N’s headache was nowhere near better, but she tried paying no mind to it; what mattered was she was walking down to the party with JJ holding her hand. She squeezed his fingers gently as they approached her parents; him squeezing her's back.

“Hi sweetie!” My mom smiles, hugging her tightly with the sweetest grin and then moves to hug her boyfriend. “JJ, we’re so glad you could make it! Go ahead to our table. It’s four over there and I made sure to seat you with Sarah and Kie”. The woman was always kind to J, making sure he felt welcomed in their lives.

Who was really hard to convince was her dad, always wary of the boys Y/N brings home. Now, him being a pogue well… that stir shit up to say the least. “Thank you” the boy answered her mom, then turning to her dad. “Hello, sir”. Her dad gave JJ a stern look and held out his hand “Hello JJ”. And that was it for him.

As they were walking to their table, Y/N realized her boyfriend’s face fell a little at the interaction with her dad. “Hey hey, it’s okay… you know how he gets,” she quickly assured and he directed those sad blue eyes to her “I just don’t get why he doesn’t like me” he sighed, a sad chuckle leaving his lips.

“You don’t usually care what people think of you, J. Why do yo-“ “I care because he’s your dad! I don’t care if Pope’s parents or- or Kie’s don’t like me, I couldn’t give less of a fuck but not with you. He’s your dad and as much as we know he’s unfair with me for being a pogue, I-I would like him to like me”

Y/N’s heart broke at his words, making her feet stop next to the dancefloor, her headache pulsating at the strong wave of emotions. “We can’t make him like you but when we get married…” JJ laughed at that, placing big hands around her waist and smiling “When we get married, he’ll realize I couldn’t wish for a better person to be with me forever. Because you love me, and I love you.” She grinned, pecking his nose to then resume their way to their seats.

When a waiter approached them and Y/N ordered water instead of some champagne, JJ looked at her funny. "Water? Who are you? Kie?" He joked, the aforementioned throwing a small napkin to his head "At least I'm not going to die of some weird liver disease like you J!" Kiara countered, giggling slightly. "I told you I'm not feeling well" Y/N mumbled, and before he could say anything, she joined Sarah and Kie's conversation.

As the conversations flowed and laughter filled the air, Y/N valiantly pushed through the discomfort, not wanting her condition to dampen the joyous occasion. Engaging in lighthearted banter with her friends, she managed to mask the underlying pain she felt. Yet, behind her radiant smile, an unrelenting throbbing persisted, casting a shadow on her otherwise vibrant spirit.

As Y/N's voice intertwined with the playful chatter, a sudden surge of dizziness overwhelmed her senses. Her head felt heavy, as if wrapped in a dense fog, and her vision blurred around the edges. The familiar pain that had been nagging her intensified, clawing at her temples.

She desperately clung to the facade of normalcy, but her body betrayed her resilience. Y/N's grip on the conversation faltered, her words becoming muddled as her mind struggled to keep pace. Her friends noticed the change in her demeanor, a fleeting flicker of concern crossing their faces. "You 'kay Y/N/N?" John B asked.

In that moment, Y/N's world seemed to spin out of control. Sensations of disorientation and weakness cascaded through her body, leaving her feeling adrift and vulnerable. The sounds of her friends' voices morphed into a distant echo, as if they were calling to her from a great distance.

The once vibrant party faded into the background, overshadowed by the overwhelming intensity of Y/N's migraine. Her focus narrowed to a single point of struggle, her every instinct urging her to find solace and relief from the torment that gripped her. "Baby?" She heard JJ mumble as her consciousness teetered on the precipice. Y/N's body succumbed to the overpowering sensations, causing her to lose consciousness.

A profound stillness enveloped Y/N as she drifted away, suspended in a momentary limbo between wakefulness and oblivion. Time became a fleeting concept, and the outside world ceased to exist for those brief moments.

In that suspended state, Y/N's body rested, unaware of the commotion that unfolded around her. JJ held her full weight in his arms, shock written all over his features. "Y/N! Baby, wake up!" he hopelessly pleads, the attention of the nearby tables focusing entirely on him. Kiara rushed over to her as well as Sarah and John, all in a frenzy, knowing nothing of what was going on.

"John, go get the twinkie! Ambulances will take a while to come to this side of the island." JJ hurried, feeling everyone's gaze on him but caring only for the peaceful look on his girlfriend's face. John B nodded and left quickly to get the van as close as he could. Then, guilt came rushing through J's veins like injected adrenaline; this was hois fault.

Y/N had tried to tell him she wasn't feeling okay, but he was too petty and way more inside his head when she was just being honest. He felt a sting in his eyes and as soon as he blinked; the tears stained Y/N's dress. "I'm so sorry baby" he whispered, Sarah and Kie looking puzzled at him asking for forgiveness at a time like this.

"JJ, this is not your fault" the blonde said, rubbing his back reassuringly but before she could continue, he began shaking his head "Y-You don't understand, she told me her head was hurting but-but I was stupid and thought she didn't wanna be seen with me and-" a sob interrupted his sentence, making Kie hug him tightly. "It's still not your fault".

He cried for a few more seconds, holding Y/N close so he could feel her still steady heartbeat against his ear until John B came rolling down in the twinkie. JJ noticed Y/N's dad approaching when he lifted up his girlfriend, but he needed to get her to the hospital quick. "I'll get her to the hospital sir, meet you there," He said in a panic, his friends and him getting in the van and speeding off to the emergency room.

He felt his heart sink as John drove and he could notice Y/N's breath quicken, then falter. JJ rarely felt guilt, but this was the way the universe was punishing him, he figured. "Hurry" he mumbled, knowing his best friend was doing his best not to crash while getting his girl to the hospital as soon as he could.

Eventually they got there. Everything from when the car stopped to him sitting next to her bed was a blur for JJ; he had a vague memory of the doctors saying she passed out from the migraine and dehydration, nothing fatal but if JJ hadn't been there to catch her when she blacked out it could've caused a concussion.

The pogues stayed there against the professional's advice, saying they should go home and sleep, that Y/N would be awake by morning and they would be able to talk to her then. They refused. Kie and Pope (who got there as soon as he heard the news) cuddled on a couch. Sarah and John did the same as JJ just sat next to Y/N's bed, holding her hand.

The doctors instructed her boyfriend to give her water as soon as she woke up and notify a nurse that would help her immediately, but in the meantime, all they could do was wait. Her parents walked in to find a room of teenagers sleeping at around eleven. Her mom woke JJ up so he could fill them in.

"Mrs. Y/L/N... hi" he sleepily mumbled, rearranging the wild mess his hair was by brushing it back to later rub the sleep out of her face. Her father was standing behind her with an angry expression, and before Y/N's mother could speak, he approached JJ menacingly. "You explain to me right this second why you didn't ask me what was to be done as soon as she passed out! We were so-" the man whisper yelled so the others wouldn't wake up.

"I'm sorry sir, and with all due respect, I could not care less about what you thought would be appropriate other than bringing her to the hospital. I couldn't care less about how you both were feeling; she needed help, and she needed it right that second. I'm sorry if I crossed any boundaries but, as you would be able to tell if you gave me a chance, I have no limit when it comes to your daughter's well being" JJ declared, not once getting his eyes off Y/N's dad.

And he was telling the truth, too. He would go to the ends of earth for her and if her being safe meant her dad would hate him more, it was okay for him. Suddenly, Y/N's mother engulfed him in a tight hug. "She couldn't be with someone better than you. We're just glad she's safe and to know our girl is with someone who will look after her. Thank you, JJ" she smiled.

He smiled wide, returning the hug. "No problem, ma'am. The doc said she'd be just fine. Apparently she had a migraine and hadn't drunk enough water... we're all just waiting for her to wake up". When the blonde raised his eyes to the man behind her, there was something different. Respect, maybe. He didn't really care in this moment.

Her parents stayed in some chairs outside, and, at around midnight, Y/N woke up. JJ was the first one to notice when her hand moved to wrap around his finger while he mindlessly scrolled through twitter. He dropped his phone, almost falling to the ground when he tossed it somewhere as he turned to look at Y/N. "Hi, hi baby" He cooed, pretty y/e/c staring at him just like he needed "Mmm, my hero", Y/N's voice was hoarse.

JJ giggled, handing her a bottle of water and stroking her cheek softly. "I'm sorry baby, I-I should've listened to you when you tried to tell me" He sighed the apologies he repeated like a prayer hours ago "S'okay J" "It's not. Shouldn't have let my mind get in the way. I'm glad you're okay" "Yeah me too... I'm also glad to see you, baby... Dreamt about you while I was out" "As you should," he jokingly said, both of them laughing and sharing a sweet kiss.

The story after that is short. Y/N recovered, JJ was finally allowed at family dinner (and exchanged pleasant conversations with his soon to be father-in-law as he called him). ♡

˚ · • . ° .

The ending feels rushed, I'm sorry ahhhh. Tysm for reading! Hope you enjoyed

Remember, the best way to support writer’s works on here is by REBLOGGING WITH TAGS. I’d very much appreciate it if you did!

Thanks again, stranger. Hope you have a nice day<3

NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO REPOST AS THEIR OWN/TRANSLATE/OR COPY MY WORK IN ANY PLATFORM OR SPACE WITHOUT MY EXPLICIT CONSENT.

#jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank angst #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut #jj smut #jj x reader #jj x you #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank x routledge!reader #jj x reader x rafe #obx imagine #obx x reader #obx #obx fanfiction #obx fluff #obx angst

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ghouljams · 2 months

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ANOTHER FASHION HISTORY NERD!!! YOU MAKE ME CRY TEARS OF JOY!!!

I hate seeing a period piece and then: ‘he pulled her panties down’ it gives me the ick… pantaletts are a sexy concept! Just get through all the ribbon, silk and lace of her skirts? There’s no barrier, it’s sexy! It’s like crotchless panties but, better… idk why it’s better but, it is.

(I love those novels!!! ‘titillate’ is a funny word and very accurate to use as a descriptor. It feels like a cross between giggly and turned on, y’know?)

Lord Mactavish is so *sigh* … just picturing him in any way shape or form… when they’re actually married he takes her (us) back to his mansion? Chasing her through the manor house; through the winding halls… taking her (us) against the carpet until your knees are covered in rug burn. (I picture the massive mansion from the secret garden)

(Servants are scared to roam at night. It’s too awkward to look your lord and lady in they eye after seeing that)

When you go to get your dresses for the season, he comes with. “Leave extra room- need to alter it for her pregnancy soon.” You’re not pregnant. He intends to fix that and parade you around at every gala.

On god I am staring at period undergarments just to make sure I'm not misremembering when pantaletts became a thing lol. They weren't popular during the regency period so we can just pull the skirts up (drool) It's so much better than crotch-less panties you're right.

You're fucking doing something to me... Lord Mactavish parading you around at every gala, he knows full well that not everyone thinks it's proper to have you out and about when you're showing, he also knows that he's supposed to be using euphamisms. He still settles a hand on your stomach and proudly announces that his wife is "bred just like she's supposed to be" which gets him smacked and gets you fucked in whatever room he can get you into quickest. Grrrrrr I want him.

More Bodice Ripper Soap...

He likes this little game you play, you know he does. Barely married, and he's taken every opportunity(on every surface) to make sure you remember it. You can hear him whistling through the corridors of his manor, letting you know where he is at all times. It's also a warning to any servants still awake and busying themselves about the place. Your heart hammers in your chest as you press yourself back behind the door of the study. You know he saw you come this way, you made sure to close and open various doors along the way to try and throw him off.

It's funny, the anticipation of being caught makes your stomach heat, makes wetness slick your thighs. It's terribly improper, being chased through the house by your husband, you can't even remember what sparked it this time. He'd said something, he always says something, and you'd called him exactly what he is, a rake, a bodice ripper. He's laughed, mirthful and dark as the night outside your windows. Then he'd done just that, gripped your nightdress between two hands and ripped it open. Even now you're clutching it closed over your chest, feeling the frantic flutter of your heart under your fingers, and pretending it doesn't do something sinful to you.

The whistling comes close, you turn your head to peak through the crack left by the hinges. Your husband in all his glory, still in his hunting clothes, you half expect to see him carrying his gun or rope. His hands are lax by his sides as his eyes sweep the hall. He slows by an open door and turns to investigate. You're careful, quiet, as you make your way around the door, eyeing the room nearest you.

You can't stay here, not if he's stopping to look around. Your best bet is running, and hoping he doesn't catch you coming out. You tiptoe to the next room, press yourself to the wall and listen for Johnny's whistle. You close your eyes tight and hear him wander into another room. You take a steadying breath and poke your head out again, determined to make a run for it.

You dart past the next door, or try to. Johnny catches you by the throat, his thick fingers curling menacingly around your neck as you come to an abrupt halt. Your hands fly to his wrist and his grip tightens ever so slightly. "Caught you," He growls, "Shouldn't run from your husband, love." You're pulled against his chest, and bullied to the ground. He's not gentle putting you on your knees, but at least he has the compassion to follow you.

Compassion that flies out the window when his hand leaves your neck and grips your hair tight, pushing your face to the hall's carpet as he pulls your skirt up. You choke feeling his fingers prod your sopping cunt. Johnny makes a noise, a soft, pleased sound that has heat prickling over your skin. He drags his fingers through your folds, collecting the slick, enjoying the heat, before his touch leaves you. You squirm without meaning to, your hips moving to follow his fingers. He hums, fabric rustles, and then you hear him slicking his cock with your wetness.

"Fuck this pussy," He leans over you, forces you to take his weight, the blunt head of his cock teasing your entrance, "tell me she doesn't want me, that you don't love this."

You can't, it wouldn't be true, and he knows it. The best you can do is try to hide your face, nearly impossible with Johnny holding your hair so tightly, and whimper, "Can't."

"Can't what hen?" Johnny coos, "Can't tell me? Or can't take it?" You shake your head against the carpet, try to, at least. Johnny releases your hair, his hand moving to grip your hip hard enough to bruise instead. He ruts against you, his cock just catching at your entrance before slipping back over your slick folds. He presses his forehead between your shoulders. On another man it might be an almost tender gesture, but on Johnny it rings alarm bells in your head. "I'll make it fit," The smile in his voice makes your eyes roll back, "don't worry."

The tip of his cock presses more insistently against you, pushing into your cunt. Your back arches, your nails clawing the carpet as you gasp and whine. He stretches you open on his cock, the heat of his skin burning the same way the stretch does, like he's hoping he'll reshape you for himself. He shushes you, keeps you held tightly in place as he rocks his thick cock into you. You shake and shiver under him, knowing it only spurns him on. There's nothing you can think of that turns this man off of you, he seems annoyingly predisposed towards finding you charming.

Though perhaps charming isn't the right word. Tempting. No, tempted men don't always give into their wants. Your husband has never restrained himself around you, tempting you are not, you're magnetic, destined to attract the Lord Mactavish at every crossing.

You clench on his cock, feel his hips press against your ass, feel every tantalizing inch of him. You feel his teeth ghost over the back of your neck as he drags his cock out of your cunt. "Scream for me wife," He tells you,

and you do.

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eviebane · 4 months

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The Blitz (Badly Explained)

Right so we start off with Aziraphale in a church doing a drug deal with a bunch of Nazis, except there were translation errors and he brought a bunch of books. Aziraphale is actually living his best life doing spy work for the police but his handler is actually a Nazi as well, and he does the gayest fucking surprised face in the history of television

Nazi-Mycroft threatens to murder him but then Crowley hop-scotches down the aisle like his goddamn wedding day to get to his husband at the altar. The head groomsman & bridesmaid are Nazis, and the vicar is pointing a gun at them, so Crowley goes Nah babe let's blow this joint (literally)

Aziraphale is traumatised by the loss of three of a billion books he owns (because THESE ones are full of terrible, inaccurate prophecies) but Crowley's like Don't worry babe, I got you and he hands over the miraculously-OK books. Aziraphale literally sends wedding invites, buys a cottage, & picks out names their six snake babies (snabies) on 👏 the 👏 spot 👏

Crowley just walks off like Yeah alright get in the car you dork, whereby Aziraphale attempts to give him road head for saving his books

They pull up at a theatre for yet ANOTHER drug deal except Crowley couldn't get the weed plants to grow properly (he hadn't discovered yelling at plants yet, that was in the 70s) so he brings bottles of whiskey. Mrs H rips the demon a new one because they got smashed in the explosion, like can a girl not just have ONE SHOW without EVERYTHING GOING WRONG. What is wrong with you people, it's not like we're at WAR or anything, fuck

As much as Aziraphale enjoys watching Crowley get torn to shreds by an old woman, he volunteers as tribute to be a magician in her show, and Mrs H agrees because she's debating just retiring to the countryside

Back at the bookshop, Aziraphale stims while practising his magic tricks while Crowley has a little improv show, then they take a trip to the Tesco Express round the corner to top up on bread, milk, eggs, oh and a gun

Meanwhile the arch nemesis that Crowley never knew he had, is plotting his downfall in Hell. He bippity boppity boos the Nazis into spy zombies and sends them out into the world to get the Hot Goss on Crowley. This raises no alarm bells, something something bombs going off and everything's on fire, honestly people have better shit to do than worry about people wandering around with their arms falling off. Now I think about it, the zombies probably blended in better than I thought

The zombies eat the guy at the Tesco checkout and then follow Aziracrow to the theatre, where Aziraphale is playing a magician in the school's talent show & Crowley is that dad hiding in the back pretending that's not his kid

Just to spice things up, Aziraphale convinces Crowley to aim for his mouth (in front of all those people?! Aziraphale you slag!)

The magic show is a hit and Aziraphale stims in victory with his little feather boa, but then suddenly Crowley's arch nemesis rocks up with three zombies and his own little detective file on Crowley (which is just one photo. Honestly there's not even a backup photo, like this guy needs to watch some Law & Order)

Aziraphale the Kleptomanic strikes again and the Dark Council end up with a leaflet to Aziraphale's next show instead of the photo (while it wasn't recorded, they had an AMAZING time. That Fell the Marvelous is quite good, isn't he? Yeah no, he DOES look a bit familiar, hmmm)

Crowley and Aziraphale finish off their evening with getting absolutely hammered while fight-flirting, just their usual bedtime routine at this point, and then-

B̷̨̭̩̹͕̩͆̈́̀͊̐̂̀̄̒̈͛̓͂̉̍̉̒̀͂͂̍͐͂l̷̢̻̝͍͙͔̻̺̫̟̣̱̺̝̬͖̘̖̰̈́̔̉͜ͅì̸̩͖͓͆̅̒͛͂̔͂͝t̵̨̡̨̥̰̫͙͔͕̻̦̝͔̙̥̞̗̩̜̰̋̉̀͐̊̊͑͛̆͗̅̄̏̓̀͜͝z̶̡̢̡̨̡͇̬͓̩͕̣̊͂̐́̍͂́̈͑̾̈̋̐͆̚ ̶̧͎̦̲͖̭͉̼̱͔͇͇̗̗̝̣̼̽̑͛͒̅͊̆̌̔͗͋̕͜͜͝͠ͅͅp̴̫̲̙͙͈̺̾̇̀̍̍͊̐̆̽̎͒̚̚͝ǎ̶̝̭͈̗̯̱̱̦͕̞̊ͅṟ̴̙̩͎͖̙̑̃̄̓̇̿͋̒ͅẗ̵̡̨̡̺̗̙̮͕̖̰̯̠̪̱͚̙͖̺̲̳͈͉̣́͋̈͆͜͠ ̴̞̞̘̺̞̱̲̩̮̺̖͙̱̺̣͈͕̈́͝3̸̩̳̯̘̰͔͙̟̜̗̫̤͇̑͌̇̓̀͛̐̈́̈́̾͌̓̎̈͌̿͋́́ ̸̡̨̳̫̥͍̳̻̙͉̥̥͓̯̀̎͋̓͑̒̽͌̚i̸̧̢͎̗̙̬̻̭̰̲͓̹̦̖̊̈̆͗͜ş̸̛̩͔͙̬̖̱̠̳̻̬͓͙̘̑ͅ ̸̡̛͉̪͙̗̝͎͉̾̇͗͌̄̅̓͆͝͠͝c̵̨̘͈͈̱̤̙͕̭̰̣̦̟͎̜̭̘̟̮͇̈́̌́̆ͅư̴̗͛̐̓̎̈̀̍̄̀̋̌̈́͂͘͠r̴̪̩̖̓r̶̢͇͎̻͚̼͇͖̝̼̭̺͉̙͛̎̈́̓͛̒̀̊̐̀̉͗͆̈̀̈́́̕͝ͅͅé̷̘̬͇͍̈́͋̾̌̈́̀̍̾̒͐͐́̚͝͠ņ̵̢̳͚͍͍̘̼̮͎̓̆̅̅̅͑̒́͠t̷̢̢̲̼͕͙͉͇̺̮̫̘͔̮͕͇͖͇͎̹̒̓̔̈́̽̀̆͌͑͂̚̚͝͝l̸̨̨̳̜͙̗̙̠̩̫̻̟̩͚̗̬̪̠̩̮̞͈͗͌͐̈́̍͌̎͑̃͆͆̌͘͘͜͜y̵̡̢̤̣̖̤̦̠̼̣͕̟͓̠̬͇̺̗̬͈̭̦̳̹͐͑͊̓̇̊̇́̄ ̶̰̬̪̲̰̹̱̫̦̲̰̮͓̩̠̯̲̫̍̂͒̓͒̉̅͜ư̶̢̛̫̇̽͐̓̋̅̇͆̅̀͋̾̋̈́͘̕̚̕͜ņ̵̡̪̱͕̩̳̤͕̦̝̳̻͓͔̔͐͊͛͒ͅą̸̥͙͇͓͎̩̺̬͉͚̫̯̦͉̓̊̇͐͛́̒̏̈́͐͊̒͌̓̇̽̅̽͘͝v̵̡͎̳̖̠̮̣̞̯̭̖͔͎̦̩͔̼̦̺̤͕͑́̊̈́̀̊̽̏̒͛̚͝a̵̯̓͒̃͑͑̄͋́͑͗͐́̓̿̊̽̓̋̕͘͠i̵̛̮̣͚̟̇̒͌́͛͗͜ͅl̶̨̝̣͖̰̤͕̰̜̣͍̜̭̦̱̪͕̪̟̈́͆̊̓̃̊̆̒̋̑͝ͅͅͅá̶̧̡̪̪͉̙̫̠͓͈̱̼̒̔́̓̔̿͂́̓̌̽̓̌̈́̍̉̚͠͝͝͝b̴͓͎͋̔̈́͗̍̔̈́͗̚͝ḽ̵̡̧̛̺͔̗͎̲̝͂̽̅̈͂͆̔̇̋̐̏̿̌̓̚̚̚̚ȩ̷̢̡͚̻͙̪̩̫̳̹̳͉͎̫̲̣̪̯͉̠̍̃͛̔ͅͅͅ ̷̭͚͍̪̲̞͈̭̱̙͕̘͈̲̠̭̟̗̗̅̈̅̈́̃̆͑͝

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #goodomens #gomens #blitz #badly explained good omens

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sehnsuchts-trunken · 1 year

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Short And Sweet

Bradley Bradshaw x short!reader (because im short and ive always loved it lol) 1.5k words

summary: Bradley is much taller than you. And when the jar of jam you need just so suddenly happens to be on the top shelf, he reminds you why you love that so much.

disclaimer, i wrote this in the span of two hours with legally blonde on in the background so idk how much sense it makes

top gun masterlist | top gun blurbs

(i HAD to use this gif even if it doesnt fit like. LOOK AT HIM)

Flying was freeing. Freeing in ways that you couldn't describe. Up in the air, you didn't have to worry about anything down there - anything stressful or straining or terrifying. You could be yourself with every fibre of your body. Adrenaline, pure adrenaline, pumping through your veins. Your heart hammering so strongly that you could feel it, hear it. The sound of your own laughter in your ears as you sped up, up and up, until you were going so fast that there was no one faster than you in the world, the entire world, no one faster. Chasing the clouds, the sun, the skies. Being so absolutely free.

And not that you felt bad down on the ground or anything. No.

But up in the air, you belonged. You'd known that this was where you were supposed to be, had always been supposed to be, the very first time you’d ever started a plane.

And the records mirrored just that - the fact that this was what you were supposed to be doing.

You'd worked your way to the top quickly. It had taken a lot, of course, you'd never pretend that it had been easy at any point. But you couldn't imagine ever taking a different path. So you weren't surprised that you'd ended up at Top Gun, and you weren't surprised that you'd graduated top of your class. No, you had worked hard for it, and you deserved it.

You weren't surprised either that you counted as one of the best, the very best, and not only in your year, but on active duty. It was flattering, sure, it was nice to hear, nice to know, and you were proud, but you still weren't surprised. This was who you were.

You were never surprised when it came to the navy, to your career. So you weren't surprised either when they called you in for a mission - back to Top Gun, back to San Diego where it had all started.

The very first time that something surprised you in all those years was when you caught sight of Bradley Bradshaw.

And then things continued to surprise you.

Now, as you stood in the kitchen of your very own apartment, the room filled with laughter and chatter, you were surprised by a jar of jam. More specifically that the jar of jam had somehow vanished from the fridge.

You needed this thing for dessert. Where the fuck could a jar of jam have disappeared to?

Apparently to the highest kitchen shelf, because that's where you spotted it a minute later.

You huffed to yourself, blowing a strand of hair away from your face that had fallen into your eyes. Someone must have used it and then forgotten that opened jars belonged in the fridge. And that someone probably had been your boyfriend.

You set your palm flat against the counter, pushed yourself up on tiptoes and reached out with your free hand, trying to grab the jar and failing miserably. You pushed up a little more, straining at this point, still not even grazing it with your fingertips.

Okay, so you minded your height a little sometimes. Like right now, for example, as you debated the odds of climbing up on the counter top without breaking your neck.

“Want me to lend you a hand there, baby?”

You rolled your eyes as you pulled back and turned to look at him - one of those stupidly attractive Hawaiian shirts on, sunglasses hooked into the collar of the white top underneath, looking way too innocent for the crime he’d committed.

“This is all your fault, Bradshaw”, you complained, pointing a finger at him accusingly. “Admit it, you put it there on purpose. You and I both know only your things go on the top shelf.”

He was grinning, not even trying to mask his amusement. You just huffed again and narrowed your eyes.

“If you don’t want my help...”, he trailed off and took a step back, pretending to go and leave you alone here, fighting for your life against a jar of jam.

“Oh no, no, definitely not, we are not playing this game. You admit right here, right now that you put it there on purpose or... or you’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

His face fell at that and he stepped closer again, reaching for your waist and tugging you to him, leaning down to bury his head in your neck. His breath was hot against your skin.

“Don’t be mad, baby”, he whispered, pressing a kiss just below your ear, so soft that you almost missed it. “You’re just too cute.”

You gasped and hit his arm, drawing back to look at him. He was basically hunched over - so pretty much on the same level as you.

“I’m not cute”, you protested. “Baby kittens are cute. I’m an adult human woman. I’m not cute.”

He chuckled and kissed the tip of your nose, tilting his head to the side. “You are. Very.”

You couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. He saw it too, even as you did your best to hide it. His grin widened.

“Admit it”, he muttered. “You like that I’m tall enough to reach the shelves that you can’t.”

“Almost everyone’s tall enough to reach things I can’t.” You rolled your eyes. “I’m short, Bradshaw. I’m literally shorter than anyone else on the squad.”

He just raised his eyebrows as you bit your lip and avoided looking at him, instead pretending that the tiles were very interesting. Actually there was some dirt on there, so that was interesting, because you’d specifically told everyone to take off their shoes before they came in.

“Okay”, you muttered eventually, meeting his eyes again. “I do like that you’re tall.”

And then another thing that surprised you happened. Not because he leaned down to kiss you, not because you almost knocked his sunglasses onto the floor as you reached for his collar and pulled him closer, not because he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you off of your feet, but because in that very moment, Jake Seresin decided to make his grand appearance.

He needed another beer.

He whistled when he caught sight of the two of you kissing, whistled so obnoxiously loud that you broke away in panic, so loud that Phoenix appeared in the doorway as well to check out what was happening. So loud that the rest of the squad perched in your living room turned and tried to peek through the door too.

Bradley still had his arms around you protectively, your toes were still not touching the ground and your hands were still gripping onto his collar, but you’d both turned to face Jake with wide eyes.

“Hooking up in the kitchen now, I see”, he grinned. “Better not get anything in our food.”

“We weren’t hooking up”, you said, just a little breathless from the kiss.

“Yeah, mind your business, Bagman”, Bradley added, angling you away from the door. You didn’t understand how he was holding you up so effortlessly. Even a man like him had to have some limit as to how long he could lift an entire person - but no. Apparently not. With how often he’d carried you around the apartment already you were beginning to think he had some kind of superpower.

“Just make sure to be safe, you two.” Jake had the audacity to wink. “You know, use protection. We need you both up in the air for another few years.”

You and Bradley seemed to take away two very different things from that.

“I’ll have you know we’re very responsible adults”, he said, while you grinned and asked “You need us?”.

Jake just scoffed, grabbed himself a new can of beer and marched back off into the living room. Phoenix stayed in the doorway with a quiet laugh on her lips.

“You two are watching the food, yes?” She raised an eyebrow.

“I think we’re able to multitask”, you said, resting your chin on Bradley’s shoulder as you looked at her. He turned you even further, setting you down on the kitchen counter, settling in between your legs. You watched her shake her head and walk back into the living room and then you saw nothing but that Hawaiian shirt anymore and you had to guess if the smile you’d spotted on her face had actually been there.

You had to tip your head back to look him in the eyes. He rested his hands beside your thighs, lowering himself just a bit. The silence was comfortable - although it could hardly be called silence with all the chatter coming from the next room - not heavy or forced. Eventually you sighed and leaned against the cupboard behind you.

“Will you grab the jam for me?”

The only answer you got was a chuckle and you were surprised once again as he leaned down to kiss you, hesitating just before his lips met yours, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards, swerving right, breath ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“All you had to do was ask, baby.”

#top gun #top gun x reader #x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster #rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader

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bowieandqueen11 · 8 months

Text

Luis Sera Having A Crush On You Would Include...

Request: I don't have anything specific to request but I totally 100% would die for some spicy Luis headcanons!!!

Ngl I would climb this man like a tree so I kind of expanded this into some cute and spicy ones as well, I hope you enjoy as much as I enjoyed writing these! ;)

This takes quite a long time to write, so if you enjoy, please leave a comment/ reblog, it really helps me!!

Warning: some spicy headcanons, some sexual allusions, mentions of guns, mentions of injury and blood, mentions of smoking, some light swearing!

(I do not own Resident Evil or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @stdismas.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

When you radioed Hunnigan to let her know you may drop off the map because you had been tied up, you had no idea that the words would become so literal.

Groggily waking up to a firm back pressed against your own and rapid unintelligible Spanish babbling in your ear wasn't what you first expected when you and Leon had touched down in Valdelobos for the mission, but after the morning you've had you're little surprised. As you feel around your wrists to try and find out if you've been bound or chained to the ceiling of this quaint little sub-room, you're pleasantly surprised that said annoyed person behind you hasn't thrown an axe at you yet. It was only when you pulled at steel chain and the man suddenly stopped talking with a 'woAH' to come flying into your face that events started to become a little more unusual.

'Good morning sleeping beauty, ha!' You finally have full view of the man whose swinging before you, the toes of his dusty boots barely touching the ground and the firm chest held behind his tight leather jacket swaying uneasily against your own. Whiskey coloured curls hide inquisitive eyes, and as soon as he realises you're conscious he abandons whatever futile attempts he was trying in tugging off his cuffs to instead grin fully at you. 'Can I give you a kiss now, and you'll turn me into a prince?' He wiggles his eyebrows at you, wetting his bottom lip with the edge of his tongue as his body bounces against you again.

You yank at the chain, doing your best to keep your face professional as the wheels bounce over the beam and the man comes knocking into your face, held up only by your upper arm strength and a leg you wrap courteously around his quads to keep him balanced. 'You're mixing up your fairy tales. You telling me you're a frog?' You let him drop to the ground with an unceremonious thud as you break free, and Luis has to pretend, with his ass handed to him on the cobbled floor, that as you walk past him he didn't enjoy every single second of that.

When you finally find Leon desperately sifting through your stolen belongings in the next room over, the relief immediately floods his eyes as he pulls you into a tight hug. When he sees Luis following you like a puppy from over your shoulder, though, you can hear him sigh against your shoulder. Said shoulder which soon had Luis' hand firmly pressed against it.

'He won't stop touching my shoulder', you groan to Leon.

'I know. He does that', he replies with a tighter squeeze.

Luis was incredibly good at making your next meeting seem like just happenstance.

It wasn't as if he had scoped you out for miles down the rocky tracks, his heart hammering in times to the bells that rang out from his old church. It wasn't as if he had 'borrowed' a pair of binoculars from his new found friend Ada, and had watched you bring down Del Lago with an embarrassingly loud cheer and punch of the air. It wasn't as if he had been sitting leisurely behind this boat house playing with his lighter for half an hour, brain torn between getting back to his lab, and his heart's plea to see you again.

You're less than astonished when the man jumps out at you with his arms out at his sight, immediately cocky when he spots your magnum raised up towards his face. 'Now now, my princess. If you shoot me now, then how will we ever transform this magical kingdom, ey?' You're even less surprised when he wraps an arm around your shoulder, murmuring into your ear about how he's going to be like some knight in shining armour as you holster your gun and let him lead you further off into the wilderness of the village.

He's constantly asking you questions, though, when the two of you brave a stop to take stock of your ammo reserves and to charter the maps Hunnigan sent over to you. Luis just perches next to you on a free boulder, gently rubbing his pointer finger and thumb over his jawline, and watching you with something akin to enthrallment rising through his weary face. Although he tries to make them sound flirty, you can see the seriousness in his usual light-hearted expressions, beginning to become aware of his subtleties: in the way his eyes crinkle for a moment when the words leave his lip, or the give away of his leather shifting as his fingers clench where they're crossed underneath his armpits.

You shake it off as you answer him honestly, not realising that this is the first time since he was a child that anyone had ever talked to him as him. Not as a runaway. Not as a profit. Not as a monster. Not as a threat. Not as a joke. Just as... Luis. Something tight clenched in his heart, and as he nodded along to your answer, he found himself beginning to flush at how nice it felt.

It becomes a running joke between the two of you that whenever a villager tries to hit you with a lit torch, he asks if you 'have a light?'

Speaking of, when the two of you end up by one of the rundown boathouses littering the lake side, he leans his leg back against one of the boards to light a smoke. With a confused tilt of his head, his eyes suddenly widen when you stop his hand from playing with his lighter, stealing the cigarette out of his mouth. Instead, you cup your hands around the knuckles of his larger ones and lower your head down to light the end of the cigarette.

He fidgets, a knowing look on his face as he tries to hide how turned on he's become, how incredibly tight his jeans suddenly seem to feel when you let go and take a drag. Before he can reach for your lips to steal it back, though, you throw the cigarette into the lake with a wink, leaving him feeling only all the more turned on.

But Luis is also incredibly protective of you!! When you're being surrounded by hordes of angry plagas villagers in a derelict cabin, the man is constantly jumping in your way with all guns ablazing. It starts to frustrate you how, without any formal training or without any bloody protective gear he keeps shielding you from pitchforks with only his pecs to protect him. He just laughs, pulling you behind him and throwing off your aim as he holds a shard of broken bookcase out in front of him like a lance. Whenever you climb the stairs to kick down some of the ladders on the second floor, Luis is hot on your heels like your own personal talkative shadow. Thankfully though, while you were busy trying to lift the bed and shove it back against the shards of a newly broken window, Luis was there to notice a villager's head splat open and tentacles sprout out of it right behind your back. With a cry, he pounces himself at them, narrowly avoiding you getting a lash to the face as he uses his weight to knock them off the balcony.

You repay him by sliding your leg forward and managing, just in time, to stop his arms waving and his staggering legs from falling over the edge as well by grabbing the collar of his jacket and hauling him back onto you.

'See senorita?', he asks between pants, the two of you collapsed down onto the floor with Luis lying between your legs. He lets his head leisurely loll down onto the joint at the top of your thigh, letting his open palm fall over your knee. 'Nothing to it!' You roll your eyes, but even he notices the relief flood through your uneasy body when he uses his free hand to reach up and touch your face. At first you jump, not expecting the warm buzzing feeling of his fingertips holding your chin, but you slowly relax as he tilts your head back and forth. There's an intensity in his eyes that you haven't seem from him before, as he swipes a bead of blood away from the cut on your lower lip without a second thought. A kind of fury, but also... a hint of guilt racking through his head as he makes sure you're alright.

You can bet your ass though that as soon as you heft him back up onto his feet, he refuses to go out the door. Instead, he hops up on top an antique wine barrel, and pouts his lips at you. He whines like a kicked puppy until you agree to fix up his wounds now, and to kiss them all better.

'Absolutely not', you say through a smile, coming to stand in between his legs. He goes uncharacteristically still when you reach up to cradle his face, an almost imperceptible huff of air hitching through his nostrils when you tilt his cheek further into your palm. He rests his head heavily, the corner of his lips twitching up as he rubs his stubble against your skin and tickles you. 'Cut it out or I'll be sewing your eyelid to your ass', you warn him, pointing a needle you managed to worm out of your side pack at his nose. He just smiles, watching you work as if you were made of pure starlight itself. As you finish off by crushing up some green herb, you can feel his thick thighs begin to move tighter against your legs, effectively trapping you against his hip.

'I-I'm going to need you to open your mouth', you state, trying your damn best to not give Luis the satisfaction of hearing your voice go hoarse.

'If that's what you've wanted me to do, mi amorcito, all you had to do was ask.' Although he cocks his head at you, he can't help but drop his eyes, desire burning through every electric inch of his body as he drops his bottom lip open. It feels like an eternity as you gingerly press the stalks of herb down onto the point of his tongue, not helped by the way Luis' irises are trained solely onto your own for every second. You don't mean to, but your pointer finger brushes against the plumpness of his lip as you pull away, and you turn your head away with a furious blush when Luis swipes at the spot, leaving a wet trail against it.

You turn to pack up and leave, but he suddenly stands up and grabs onto your arm tightly. He leans sideways until he's almost over you, his brow furrowed as he searches your eyes for an answer he's terrified to find. 'Hey, I won't leave you here, you know? I promise, I'm not going to leave again.'

'Why are you doing this?', you ask tensely. 'Why are you following me?'

He swallows thickly, weighing up whether to confess his truth to you or not. After a moment, he sighs, too afraid at what you might do. 'You are a guest! It would be rude not to take you on a tour of all the hotspots in the village.' Although you roll your eyes, you can't help the way you start to smile at his cheesiness. He begins chuckling too, but you don't notice the way the tips of his ears burn with a crimson flush as he spins his pistol and places it back into his holster, looking up at the ceiling uncertainly.

When it starts raining, he immediately offers you his jacket, quick to unzip it and place it over your head. That is, until you elbow him in the ribs once he asks for 'some of your clothing in return, of course ;)'.

Since you've grown to warily trust the man, you believe him when he leads you into a dank smelling cavern underneath some of the huts, telling you that he miraculously knows of a way to move underneath the monsters undetected. Which is how you found yourself climbing up a well in a densely shrouded area by an incredibly sticking looking altar, running away from a man wielding a chainsaw, and sitting on a very content looking Luis shoulders as you clambered into the musty attic of what used to be the village chief's manor. Flicking your torch through the gloom, you were surprised to step on a cracked frame. Picking it up, you were even more surprised when you ran your thumb over the grime to clear the image of a young boy sitting next to his grandfather. A young boy, who even at that age had such strikingly distinctive... familiar characteristics. A young boy who, as you placed the photo down on a cabinet and began to flick through the pages of a withered journal lying next to it, had been through such grief and horror that you were amazed he was so nonchalantly peering through the rafters next to it.

No, no. That wasn't it. He was good, you had to give him that. He must have spent a long time projecting this image. Perfecting this façade. Wrapping himself up so tightly in his fairy tales of knights and princesses and magical lands, that he almost believed it himself. Almost. But it seemed almost innate with you: the ability to notice his giveaways. To notice the real him. The way his shoulders were slightly hunched, as if guarding himself from bad memories: the way his eyes flitted just ever so minutely around the room, as if a cold grip of fear was squeezing at his lungs: the way, that in all the time you had been standing there watching him, he had noticed the photograph and now refused to look your way.

'You-', you start, not entirely sure what to say. 'This is you? You're from this village? You, you-'

He looks so desolate, so horrifyingly sad as he deflates onto the edge of a desk that you can't even finish the sentence, let alone get to the accusations of his work with Umbrella. Instead, your eyes sweep over the last page of the diary, feeling your heart breaking at the loneliness and confusion this poor man must have felt for so long.

'You were trying to help', you finally murmur out through clenched teeth. 'You are trying to help', you soften, turning your body to face him with furrowed eyebrows. 'That's why you're following me.'

'I might have been', he shrugs, but even that motion seems to take all the energy out of him. He feels different now, more clear, more truthful as he folds his hands out in front of his lap. 'Maybe, at the start. But it's not just that. I'm a selfish man, senorita. Look!'

He throws an arm out towards the window with a faux smile, pointing an accusatory finger at the lingering hoards of torch wielding villagers that are stumbling through the fallen cast iron gates. 'See how well I did at saving them! No, no.' He rubs the bridge of his nose, before glancing crestfallen at the picture frame behind your arm. 'I'm no hero. I'm selfish. I decided a long while ago, mi amor, that I enjoyed your company far too much. If I can't save my village, I'm going to be selfish enough to save you.'

His eyes drop, and his nose sniffs, and you do the only thing your mind can piece together at that moment. You walk forward, and with a tentative face you wrap your arms around his torso and hug him. It takes him a moment to realise that you're not rightfully furious with him, before he lets his head droop down into the curve of your shoulder. You don't say a word when you feel his arms shake, sliding around your ribcage until his hands are clenched fists in the back of your shirt. He's so tall he's almost smothering you, but you don't care a jot. Instead, you just stay a moment in your perfect isolation, allowing the man in front of you the comfort and vulnerability to break.

You thought that was as bad as you would ever see him, but this man gets SERIOUSLY worried when he realises that you've been infected with las plagas too?? He curses himself with an incredibly frantic and incredibly rude string of Spanish curse words, realising it must have been around the same time Leon was infected, and you've been struggling with the pain of it alone this whole time. He goes into Serious Scientist Mode and does his best not to freak out when, in a flash, you've gone from idle chatting to flashing a boot knife at his throat. His adams apple bobs against the serrated edge of the blade as he slowly reaches his hand out to reassuringly squeeze your shoulder once again.

'It's alright, you do what you have to do. I told you, I'm not leaving you again, si?'

Your face crumbles in agonising pain as the black tendrils begin to flood away from your eyes to be replaced by blinking tears, mustering the strength to fling the knife until it sticks firmly into frame of a painting. You fall to the floor, writhing in pain, and it takes all of Luis' strength not to cry out as he falls down beside you like there are firecrackers nipping at his heels. He legit carries you bridle style out the door and onto one of those velvet cushioned chairs in the castle's corridor. He stoops down next to you, and you finally come around to his warm thumb rubbing just under your bottom lash line as he checks the white of your eyes for any lingering signs of infection.

His fingers are incredibly gentle as he unfurls your other intertwined hand to check the pulse on your wrist. The wrinkles on his forehead are so shoved together that he almost looks like he's folded in on himself, and you can barely make out the slight shake of his fingertips as he steadily counts with bated breath. He lets out a whistle of relief through his front teeth once he's reassured, falling backwards onto the gilded frame of the staircase's banister and stretching his legs out in front of him in blissful solace.

He nearly jumps out of his skin when you whisper a pained 'hey handsome', gripping your side and stretching out your neck as you sit up fully. He doesn't even speak, his eyes wide and terrified as he flies forward and pulls you into a desperate hug, so tight against his chest you feel like you might pop if his biceps pulse any more. He seems almost sheepish when he pulls back, until you pull him down by the lapel of his jacket to kiss his cheek and whisper a 'thanks for not leaving me' into the shell of his ear. Like a lightning strike, like life breathed back into his lungs, he's grinning like his old self. The lovestruck dope. You really have wrapped around your pinkie finger.

Him screaming WHEEE and climbing onto your head the whole time you're in the cart mine lmao.

When you guys reach the garden maze, he just can't keep his feelings in any longer. He doesn't quite know if it was you nearly being mauled by the dogs that reminded him of his grandfather, and all he's lost, or if it's just the thought of him not getting you to his lab in time that makes all the frustration and love and pure adrenaline fear slam against his ribs. Before you can even wipe the blood off your forehead, peering around the next corner to see if you can catch sight of an end to these stupid ass hedges, Luis struts forward and cages you in his arms. He's kissing you so fervently, effectively pinning you between his groin, lower legs, and the bristles of the bush behind you that you nearly fall through with the intensity of it.

This man is definitely the type to nearly knock you on your ass though tbf because he's thrusting up against you, so desperate for you.

Smug bastard is smirking the whole time, until he feels your nails scratch lightly against the stubble by the pulse point on his neck. He winces, closing his eyes and turning his head towards the empty air at your side that you think you've hurt him, until the bastard starts groaning.

Without even realising it, Luis has shoved you down onto the grass, breaking your fall by landing you on top of his arm. He crawls between you like a ravenous tiger until he's hovering over your face. He bites at the side of your neck, leaving a few wet marks as his tongue eagerly glides across your skin as your hand desperately reaches up onto the stone side of the fountain. Your chest rises and falls in quick succession as the man leaning his weight eagerly on your stomach ravishes you, only for your grasping hand to be met with his own heavily landing on top of it, interlinking quickly with your fingers. He growls as he pulls at the bottom of your thighs, raising your lower body further up towards him whilst also pulling your raised legs around the bottom of his back.

His other hand is aflame as it holds tight against the side of your pelvis, effectively holding you in place as he grinds against you, teeth nipping at your top lip as he kisses you like the world might end around him at any moment. His breath pants against your tongue, hand wandering like smooth butter down the sides of your hip, making sure you experience every inch of pleasure that's been pent up over the last few days. Making sure, with each swirl of his tongue against your own, that you finally realise how much he adores every inch of you. Ensuring, as he pulls you down by the hips to rest against the belt buckle of his jeans, that you're safe in the knowledge that he's never felt this in love: this safe, this devoted, so like himself again with anyone else.

Thankfully you're there to look out for each through thick and thin, and even more thankfully you're there to stop him being attacked and grievously wounded by Krauser. He swears, as the two of you finally come running hand in hand into his lab, and he holds onto your fingers with a grip tight and sweaty enough to bend metal, that he's going to make the most of this chance at redemption he's been given. He's going to be your knight in shining armour, for as long as he may live.

#resident evil #luis sera #luis sera imagine #luis sera x reader #luis sera headcanons #resident evil imagine #leon kennedy #resident evil headcanons #re 4 #re 4 imagine #resident evil 4 #resident evil 4 remake #luis resident evil #luis re #luis resident evil imagine #re4 #re4 remake

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sin-djarin · 4 months

Text

Holsters, lies, and video tape.

Javier Pena & Tim Rockford (plus a special guest.)

Rating: M

Word count: 2.2k

Summary: Things go awry for Javi on New Years Eve. And there are pickles. Because of course.

Warnings: Swearing, Becca bastardizes police interrogations, mention of Tim Rockford's gun holsters, mention of tight jeans and straining buttons.

A/N: Disclaimer: for fic purposes, we're pretending Tim and Javi work together in this universe. Don't ask how I got here, for I do not know.

This fic had to include a pickle/pickles and the following line of dialogue: "You stand there and accuse me, but where were you at the time?"

Enjoy this hasty silliness and forgive typos. Happy 2024! (@pickled-pena)

Detective Rockford stands outside the interview room, a clipboard full of blank notes in one hand and a sealed brown paper evidence bag in the other. This is the last place he wants to be this evening. Realistically, he should have been at home hours ago but duty called.

Rolling his head around on his shoulders, he gathers his resolve and pushes down on the door handle. As the door swings open, he enters the brightly lit interview room. His suspect is already present and waiting. Pulling out a chair, he takes a seat opposite the suspect, noticing that this person doesn’t fit the typical profile of criminals he’s used to encountering. The man is clean cut and put together, if a little frustrated.

Under a furrowed brow, the suspect's eyes dart after his every move. He watches wide eyed as he places the bag on the floor and stares at his thumb pressing down on the record button of the tape recorder. The echo of the click hammering home that he is in fact here and this isn't some sort of dream before the detective begins his customary introductions.

“The time is 19:37, on December 31st. My name is Detective Tim Rockford and I work for the Los Angeles Police Department. I investigate robberies, and theft.” he begins, his voice carrying an air of authority. “I’m going to advise you of your rights. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you do say can be used as evidence against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney of your choice and to have an attorney present before and during questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, you are entitled to have one appointed to you. You may stop answering questions or ask for an attorney at any time during questioning. Do you understand each of these rights as I’ve explained them to you?”

The suspect feigns interest as Detective Rockford effortlessly recites his rights. He stares at the glossy surface of the table that separates them, wracking his brain to figure out what exactly he did to end up here. He’s heard the same sentences hundreds of times to the point it became difficult not to say them along with the detective as he reaches the end of his spiel.

“Yes.”

“And having been made fully aware of these rights, do you voluntarily wish to answer questions?”

“I do.”

“Can you please state your full name for me, Sir?”

The suspect hesitates for a second before answering, “Javier Peña.”

“Okay, Javi-” the detective clears his throat before correcting himself. “Javier. ”So, I’ve had a look at your case. It seems like you’ve fallen on hard times. Is that right?”

“Yes.” Javier admits, his voice filled with resignation.

Detective Rockford's gaze softens, recognizing the difficult circumstances the suspect finds himself in. “Can you tell me a little bit about it?”

Javier closes his eyes as he attempts to get his story straight. Finally his mouth opens, voice cracking as he uses the only weapon he has left - reason. “I um…I just moved back to the States. I thought I’d have a job by now but things haven’t worked out the way I wanted them to.” he admits.

“Right. And what about earlier today? Can you tell me what happened?”

Heaving a deep breath that threatens the buttons of his white shirt, he recounts his movements. “I went to the store to buy groceries. And I paid for my food and left.”

“That was the first store you went into? You didn’t go anywhere else?”

“No. That was the only one.”

“And what happened when you went inside?”

Annoyance starts to seep into his voice as Javier replies, “I just told you.”

“Have you done anything like this before?”

“No.” Javier repeats through gritted teeth.

“And you weren’t scared?”

“I wasn’t scared because I didn’t do anything.” Javier insists.

Detective Rockford leans back into the plastic chair, taking a moment to process the response before shifting the focus of his inquiry.

“Okay. Okay." the detective nods, absorbing his story so far. "Do you remember what you bought?”

“Groceries…um…cheese, meat, bread.”

“Anything else?” the detective probes further.

Javier takes a moment to collect his thoughts, focusing his gaze on the lens of the camera that’s not so discreetly positioned in the corner of the room. He stares at the flashing red recording light, allowing the image of it to burn into his retinas. The pulsing rhythm of it becomes almost hypnotic as he thinks about how absurd this whole affair is before turning back to face the detective who awaits his answer.

“No.”

“Did you speak to anyone?”

“Just the cashier.”

“What did they say? Do you remember what they looked like?”

“I don’t know. ‘Thank you?’ ‘Have a nice day?’ She had nice nails, though. Fuck.” Javier sighs in defeat. “This is crazy. Can I have a cigarette?” he pleads.

The room feels stifling and Javier can feel his blood pressure rise at the detective’s ridiculous enquiries. It’s certainly not the first time he’s been in a room like this but his palms grow clammy behind his back as he muses over the stupidity of the situation he finds himself in in between questions. He shakes his head, wondering how much longer the detective can prolong this and how much longer he can go without a cigarette.

“We can talk about that later. Did she give you a receipt?”

“Probably.”

“Probably?”

“Yeah, probably.” Javier scoffs with his patience continuing to wear thin.

“Do you have it?”

“I don’t know you took all my shit when I got here.”

“Easy,” Detective Rockford soothes, holding up a hand between them. “I’m just trying to help you out here. I need to get a full picture of what happened. You said you don’t have a job, correct?”

“Right. No job.” Javier confirms, rolling his eyes.

Detective Rockford’s questioning continues, delving deeper into Javier’s financial situation and the source of the money he used to pay for the groceries. As the interview progresses, Javier’s irritation continues to rise. He swears the room is getting hotter as every minute passes. The bright lights bouncing off the white brick walls are making his eyes ache. He can feel droplets of sweat roll down his back at the lack of air conditioning and the sharp metal of the cuffs bite deeper into his wrists when he struggles against them.

This is exactly what the detective wants. He’s conducted hundreds of interviews with thousands of perpetrators and he knows Javier is close to boiling point, knows that he would rather be inhaling smoke and lining his lungs with nicotine and he knows that if he keeps straining, he’s definitely going to pop a button on his shirt. Still, he remains calm as he scans Javier’s face for any clues of deception. He’s already picked up on the ticks in his jaw, the twitching of his mustache and the flaring of his nostrils when he lies.

“Listen. I get it. Times are tough for you. If I was in your shoes I’d have probably done the same thing. Everyone needs to eat, right? There’s support out there for families in need of assistance. Maybe you just forgot to pay for some items.” the detective proposes.

“Fuck you. You don’t know shit. Just because I don’t have a job doesn’t mean I can’t pay my way.” Javier exclaims, unable to contain himself any longer.

The tip of his boot hits the flimsy leg of the table, making it rattle violently. It’s this that makes the detective change tact. He bends forward over the table, locking eyes with Javier.

“I know more than you think.” Detective Rockford asserts confidently.

Javier spits back with defiance. “Prove it.”

“I have a witness that described you down to the last detail. Mustache, yellow sunglasses, jeans that are too tight and a little dated - her words, not mine.” he assures Javier who glares at him upon hearing the words. ”She says you walked out of the store with something under your arm.”

“That doesn’t prove anything. Million guys like that out there.” he shrugs off the comment.

Detective Rockford remains poised and pulls out the evidence bag, hoping that whatever is inside will implicate Javier in the crime he’s been accused of committing.

“What exactly are you accusing me of, detective?”

“Theft.” he answers.

“Of the things I told you I paid for?”

“Those. And,” the Detective opens the bag and peeks inside and his eyes widen at the sight of the contents. He exchanges a worried look with his suspect, watching his Adam's apple bob as he swallows hard before stating, “Pickles.”

“Pickles?” Javier asks, now equally confused as the man tasked with questioning him.

“Pickles.” the detective confirms, lifting the large jar out of the evidence bag. “Kosher dill pickles. Look familiar?” he squints, reading the white label.

“I don’t even like pickles. This is fucking insane.”

Detective Rockford maintains his professionalism, presenting the evidence to Javier as best he can. “It is. It really is. Especially considering you don’t like them. None of it makes sense. But maybe you were distracted. Like I said, maybe you forgot to pay for them?”

“How would I forget to pay for something I don’t even like?”

With his curiosity piqued, the detective arches his eyebrow and says coolly, “You tell me. The jar had your fingerprints all over them.”

“Bullshit.” he snaps, narrowing his eyes at the statement.

Javier knows that it is bullshit. He knows it would take longer than the hour he’s been sat there for for a lab report to come back with a full analysis of his fingerprints. There’s not even any residual dust on the glass of the jar from what he can see.

“Mr. Peña, intentions and motive aside, stealing is stealing. You could have avoided all of this by just paying for it..”

Javier finally relents. He can’t take another minute of questioning, can’t take another second of listening to the detective’s fingertips tapping the table.

“It was a mistake. Can we settle this without making it a big deal?”

“Unfortunately, that’s not for me to decide. I have a responsibility to uphold the law. I’ll send in my colleague to come in and speak to you about where to go from here. I’m glad you talked, Javier. Take care of yourself.” he says softly, bidding Javier farewell with genuine concern.

The detective stands from his seat and walks towards the door with his notes still as empty as they were when he walked in.

“Aaaaand cut!” an enthusiastic voice yells from the other side of the room. Both men's shoulders drop, heaving sighs of relief in unison upon hearing the words.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me. Pickles?! Rockford, get me out of these fucking cuffs.”

Tim retrieves the keys from his pocket and quickly releases his colleague from the handcuffs that bound him. The two men turn their attention to the director dressed in a loud orange shirt. Stepping over cables and ducking under lamps, he begins walking towards them across the small room while his camera assistant starts to disassemble the intricate lighting setup.

“You two were amazing! You, with the holsters and everything.” The man beams at Tim, almost awestruck as he gestures at the black leather strapped tight around his shoulders. “And you too of course,” he grins, turning to Javier to sing his praises next. “You looked so pissed off! I really felt it.”

But the compliment is only met with a grimace from Javier.

“What’s your name again?” Tim asks the director.

“I am Javi. Gutierrez.” he nods vehemently.

“Nice meeting you, Javi. But maybe try a different prop next time. A bottle of liquor, some electronics, you know? It might make it a little more believable. Nobody really steals pickles.” Tim advises the man who is responsible for them being at work on New Year’s Eve.

It was probably something agreed to absentmindedly when they were both neck deep in actual investigations, but somehow the two men had forgotten that they had consented to star in a demonstrational video on interrogation techniques.

Both of them studied similar instructional videos on their own rises through the ranks; what to do and what not to do - although much lower budget and lower resolution. Neither of them could have foreseen the Hollywood-esque setup that had been arranged in such a small interview room at lunch time or the exuberance of their European director.

“Rockford, let's get out of here.” Peña sighs, patting Tim on the arm and dismissing his director.

Both men exit the cramped room and start to navigate the maze of corridors to the entrance of the building. Javi places a cigarette between his lips, ready to light as soon as they step outside but even the taste of the filter is just as sweet. The scowl painted across his face at having pulled the short straw as to who got to do the questioning hasn’t quite worn off.

“Beer?” Javi suggests.

“Yeah. You’re buying though. You got us into that mess.”

“You stand there and accuse me, but where were you at the time?” Javi stops walking, placing his hands on his hips as awaits a response to his own accusation. “I wasn’t going through that by myself.”

Choosing to ignore it, Tim turns to him and shifts his focus to the unlit cigarette dangling from Javi’s mouth. “Maybe you should try giving up for the new year. That’s the longest I’ve seen you go without smoking.”

Javi snickers and rolls his eyes, “Yeah, and maybe you should take up acting. I don’t know how you kept it together.”

“Better yet, I say we both start reading our emails properly and avoid this next year. Fucking pickles.” Tim grumbles over the spark of Javi's lighter.

#javier peña #tim rockford #pickledpeña writing challenge #pickled peña writing challenge #pickledpeña

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angelsanarchy · 21 days

Text

Fever Dreams: Mike x Y/N One Shot Series PRT 08

Tagging: @icarus-star @chainsawgvtsfvck @romanroyapoligist @liquidsmoothdomme @madamemaximoff06 @drazenka @blacksoul-27 @444rockstargf @kappasbbgirl @luzclarita57 @tempt-ress

Mike was salty. No matter how much he tried to pretend he wasn't, he was annoyed that some muscle head got to go home with Y/n the other night. He knew he couldn't ask Sicky without being completely tortured about it so he just kept his annoyance to himself.

Instead of focussing on that, he decided that he would try and make some extra money outside of the business. He knew there were rules in Y/n's bar but if she wasn't here to see him hustle some chumps in pool, what harm could it cause?

Billiards was a skill he picked up from his dad. The old bastard never taught him any other life skills except how to shake people down on a pool table. Although he broke the one rule his father had taught him which was to get in and get out so no one picks up on the hustle.

He was up $1400 when the last group of guys he beat started getting pissed off.

"This motherfucker took $600 from me earlier. He's out here scamming." The thick man said shoving Mike into the wall. Mike put his hands up and chuckled as he took a swig from his beer.

"Listen man, I beat you fair and square-" He cut Mike off by slapping the bottle out of his hand sending it exploding into the wall.

"What the fuck!?" Mike wanted to argue but one guy grabbed him by the shirt while the other put a gun in his face. People started to scramble a bit and Mike felt his heart hammering against his ribs.

"WHOA WHOA WHOA TIny! Take it easy!" Y/n practically flew over the bar and stepped between Mike and the guys ready to put a bullet in his skull.

"I thought there was no hustling in your bar, shorty? This little prick's out here stealing money from us." He explained to Y/n who kept her eyes on him.

"He's new in town. He clearly didn't know the rules." Y/n offered but the guy didn't care.

"He's gonna learn the hard way not to fuck around." He dug the gun barrel into his forehead.

"Tiny, you need to back off. This is Leff's nephew so let's not get messy." The mention of Leff's relation made Tiny back off putting the gun down.

"Drinks are on me for the next week to make up for what you lost tonight and I will make sure he's caught up on the rules. Sound good?" Y/n patted the man's chest and he nodded at her.

"You got damn lucky bitch." The guys let go of Mike and he straightened himself out. Y/n grabbed him by the ear and drug him towards the bar.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed? I told you, only clean games in here." Y/n scolded. Mike rolled his eyes.

"Why are people so afraid of Leff? It's stupid." Mike shrugged rubbing his ear.

"Because he's killed people. People typically like to steer clear of guys who don't hesitate to pull a trigger." Y/n explained with a lowered tone as she wiped the bar top down and grabbed a few beers to send to Tiny and his friends.

"What about you? Have you killed people?" Mike asked curiously making Y/n pause.

"That's a need to know and you don't need to know. Stop being a brat." She gave his cheek a tiny slap and he nodded his head. No answer was always an answer.

"Look I'm sorry, I promise to behave. You have my word." Mike apologized earning a smile from Y/n.

"Good boy. That's what I like to hear." She praised him sending bolt of electricity to the crotch of his pants. What he wouldn't give to have his head between her knees with her hands tugging on his hair telling him how much of a good boy he was.

"So...where's your boyfriend tonight?" Mike blurted catching a confused look from her.

"What boyfriend? I told you I don't have a boyfriend." She said opening another beer and sipping it before handing it to him.

"The gorilla you left with the other night might need a reminder of your relationship status." Mike sipped the beer and tried not to look at Y/n as she grinned at him.

"Someone sounds a little jealous." She teased.

"You jealous of Malik?" She asked putting her hands on top of his.

"Depends." He shrugged.

"On?" She cocked her eyebrow.

"Did he fuck you?" Mike asked watching her purse her lips at the question.

"Maybe." She replied with a hint of a smirk. Mike nodded in understanding.

"Then yeah I'm absoltely jealous." Mike wasn't afraid to admit it. He wanted to fuck Y/n three ways from Sunday and twice on Monday but it seemed like every time they got a little closer, a little more intimate, she would pull back.

"Mike, you're too sweet to waste your time with someone like me. There are plenty of women in New York that you can shack up with. Nicer, more wholesome girls who Leff won't lose his fucking mind about." She laughed.

"It's my time, I can waste it how I want. Besides, I know you're just as interested in me as I am with you. It's only a matter of time before you get past all those bullshit restrictions and take a shot on me. All I got is time baby." He smiled as he drained his beer and she shook her head at him.

"You're gonna get us both in trouble." She bit her lip knowing that Mike was definitely the kind of trouble she liked.

"Yeah but you like it." He winked at her before grabbing his coat from the rack and putting his hat back on. This time he would leave her guessing. If she wanted to play the game, he was down for it.

#Film: 5lbs of Pressure #5lbs of Pressure #One Shot series #Mike #Mike x Y/N #Fever Dreams #Fever Dreams Series #Rory Culkin #Culkin Cult

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undiscovered-horizon · 1 year

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Imagine someone kidnapping you for leverage.

You left to stay with your friend in a town a few miles away - just old schoolmates getting back together. Nothing out of the ordinary but the house... it feels strange. Jax seems to be unable to sit in one place, a feeling of something missing gnawing at the back of his head. You were always there. Quiet, most of the time, hardly noticeable but your presence seemed to fill the emptiness between the walls. How strange it is for him to not have you around.

Just when boredom is about to make him reach for a thick book you had left on the coffee table, the phone rings. Jax reaches for it without much thought, half expecting you to be on the other side. He is, however, sorely mistaken:

"I have a business offer for you."

Confused and surprised, he looks at the clock hanging on the kitchen wall. It's nearing midnight.

"Who are you?" he asks.

"All in due time," the stranger answers. A hint of amusement hides in his voice. "For now, I'd like to talk about the goods."

"I never said I'd do business with you, man."

"Oh but we both know you will, Jackson Teller. Like I said, all in due time. Now, let's consider the benefits of this relationship."

Jax sighs. He's too smart to just hang up. "Alright, what do you want?"

"Nothing too big, just a few RPGs, M9s and M32-Hammers. Abo-"

"Are you serious?" Jax cuts him off. He lets out a dry chuckle of disbelief. "This is serious shit. Big guns. I don't deal that."

"I'll pretend I haven't heard that," the man's voice is suddenly low and stern, "and I'll kindly let you make a decision after you hear what you get in return."

He's even less interested in the exchange than he was before. It sounds like he might receive something big but big things, aside from being great advantages, are rather hard to remain inconspicuous. "What is it?"

"A true jackpot!" The stranger laughs in a raspy voice. His excellent mood is back. "To let your appetite grow, I'll give you a taste of the prize."

A static shuffling resounds on the other side of the call. The sound is loud enough to make Jax pull the phone away in a flinch.

Then silence.

"Jax?"

His heart stops for a moment hearing your voice - it's small, frightened. Jax can tell you're holding yourself together with all the strength you have but it's not going to last forever.

"Jesus Christ, are you alright?"

"I thinks so..." you answer unsure. It's hard to be 'alright' when one is held hostage. "I'll be fine. Just do what he asks. Please, baby, just get me home."

Before he can reassure you that he will, in fact, bring you back safe and sound, the static shuffling resounds again.

"So, Jackson, what do you think about our little deal, huh?"

"I will fucking kill you."

The stranger clears his throat. "My messenger will give you details in the morning. If as much as a hair falls off his head, the deal is off and so is the girl's head. You know what to do, Jackson. Goodbye."

Jax throws the phone across the room. It sounds like it fell apart but he's far from caring about that.

The house feels strange. Its emptiness is imposing, deafening. The ghost of you fills the vacancy once again but this time it's haunting.

#jax teller fanfic #jax teller fanfiction #jax teller imagine #jax teller x reader #jax teller #jax x reader #sons of anarchy imagine #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fanfiction #soa imagine #soa fanfic #soa fanfiction

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gotham-ruaidh · 3 months

Text

Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Chapter 3 (Dancing On Glass)|| Chapter 4 (Merry-Go-Round)|| Backstage (1) || Backstage (2) || Chapter 5 (Danger)|| Backstage (3) || Chapter 6A (Love Walked In) || Chapter 6B (Without You) || Backstage (4) || Chapter 7 (Stick To Your Guns) || Chapter 8 (Time For Change) || Backstage (5) || Chapter 9 (Take Me To The Top) || Backstage (6) || Chapter 10 (Home Sweet Home) || Backstage (7) || Chapter 11a (Nightrain) || Chapter 11b (Nothing Else Matters) || Chapter 12a (Handle With Care) || Chapter 12b (I’m So Tired of Being Lonely) || Chapter 13a (Angel) || Chapter 13b (She’s My Addiction) || Chapter 13c (Patience) Chapter 14a (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14b (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14c (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 15a (Dreams) || Chapter 15b: I Sing A Song of Love ||| Also posted at AO3

Chapter 15C: You Can Do This If You Try

Wilmington, North Carolina

Labor Day Weekend, 1988

Oh, take your time, don't live too fast Troubles will come and they will pass You'll find a woman, and you'll find love And don't forget, son, there is someone up above…

- “Simple Man”, Lynyrd Skynyrd (1973) [click here to listen]

“I really appreciate you helping me with this.”

Jamie shrugged, and took a long drink from the thermos of Gillian’s sweet tea. “It’s the least I can do. You gave me and Claire a place to stay this weekend. Away from everything. That’s a true gift.”

Dougal set his toolbox on a stump. “Thought you could use a bit of peace and quiet, here in the back country.”

Jamie nodded, and pulled his t-shirt over his head. “I think I’d forgotten what trees look like. Or the inside of a building that wasn’t an arena or a hotel.” He draped the t-shirt over the unbroken part of the fence, and bent to pick up one of the boards he’d hauled across the field in Dougal’s battered wheelbarrow. “The last time we were at a house was for our wedding – and it was Joe’s house, and we didn’t even stay there overnight.”

“I’m sure you’re staying in top of the line hotels, in their biggest suites. My guest room must be too normal for you and your bride.”

Jamie smiled, just a bit sadly. “I don’t know what normal is anymore, Dougal.”

Dougal fished in his pocket for a nail. “I won’t even pretend to understand what your life is like right now.” Carefully, methodically he hammered the nail, fastening the board to the fence post. “But I have to tell you, I’m so impressed you’re still sober.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Dougal rolled his eyes. “Oh, I can think of some reasons. Like, every single thing you were addicted to, is front and center of your life on the road. We talked about this a lot last year when you were with us at The Ridge. You’re back on the road – meaning, that all that shit is in front of you all the time again.”

Jamie nodded. “I remember. You said it wasn’t me you were worried about – it was everybody around me. That I was surrounded by people who enabled me.”

“Exactly.”

“Well – things are different now. I fired the bloodsucker that was my manager. I found Colum. I had some very honest conversations with him, and now all of those people and all the shit they used to put in front of me are out of my life. Plus, one very important new person is now in it.”

“And what does she make of everything?”

Jamie held up another board, and Dougal hammered it into place.

Giving him space.

“I thought I was ready to be back on the road,” Jamie added, after a while. “I really did. But I had no idea just how fucking hard it would be.”

He set the board against the fence post. Dougal began hammering another nail.

“And?”

“And…this time, I decided to just be open about it with everyone. It’s definitely gotten easier to talk about it – addiction, and sobriety, and recovery. And people do respect what I ask. They keep the substances and the groupies away from me. Obviously it’s still there – I just can’t see it.” He paused, thinking. “On the one hand I think they understand why I can’t be around that anymore, and they understand how terrible addiction is, and how fucking difficult sobriety is. But on the other hand – let’s be real, they know they have to listen to me and do what I ask. I’m the star of the show. I get what I want.”

Dougal took a nail out of his mouth, and hammered the other side of the board. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Jamie leaned against the fence post. “I think about it all the time. Drinking. Cocaine. Being in my dressing room with three girls at once.”

Dougal stood up straight, stretching. Squinting in the harsh midday sun.

“I don’t want to do any of that shit anymore, of course. But that doesn’t mean I don’t think about it.”

“And what exactly does that have to do with your wife?” Dougal asked patiently.

Jamie’s eyes were inscrutable behind his aviators.

“Because I flash back to the shit I used to do, and then I blink and she’s there with me, in the same rooms where I used to get really fucked up. And she holds my hand, and tells me she loves me, and then I tell her everything.” He jammed his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “I can be straight with her, and she doesn’t care. She wants to know all of this shit about me, especially the shit I’m really not proud of. Because it helps her understand what I’m working on, and why I don’t want to be that guy anymore.” He cleared his throat. “Why I’m not that guy anymore.”

“What does she say when you bring up all the shit you used to do?”

Jamie pursed his lips. “I know it hurts her. The last thing I ever want to do is hurt her. But I’d hurt her more by not telling her the truth.” He ran his fingers through his hair – almost back to shoulder length. “And every time I tell her something, she tells me something. What it was like to go through high school without parents. Or one time when her miserable excuse for an ex-husband hit her and she fixed her own busted lip in the bathroom. How she’d do surgery while high. How she destroyed pretty much all of her friendships when the pills became the most important thing in her life.”

A blue jay settled on the fence, chirping.

“I didn’t want to tell her all the shit about me, and what I’d do when I was using. The man I was. I don’t want that to…to trigger her or anything, and compromise her sobriety. But because we share it, and we talk about it, it makes us accountable to each other to not fuck it up.”

“So as much as you depend on her for sobriety, she depends on you for hers.”

Jamie nodded. “We’re tied together in so many ways, it’s insane. We are addicts. We were at the top of our professions and we were miserable. We’re terrified that one day we’ll wake up and the other person will be gone. And…” he swallowed. “When we’re together, when we love, it’s…I can’t find the words, Dougal. We waited for intimacy until our wedding night. And I’m so fucking glad we did. Because if I knew what kind of magic we can create, there’s no way I would have ever agreed to go on tour and spend even a few hours every day away from her.”

Dougal leaned against the fence post. “You never think that this could all be too much for her? It’s a tremendous amount of pressure. And both of you being in recovery just complicates things.”

Jamie pursed his lips.

“It’s like I told you last night – she’s my high. Knowing she’s there. Touching her. Sleeping beside her. Loving her…all of that keeps me grounded and focused. I wrote a song about it, and it’s the fucking title track of the new album. She’s my addiction.”

“But is that asking too much of her?” Dougal pointed to the tattoo above Jamie’s heart. “You don’t want to develop too much of a dependency. She’s not a drug. I know that love is intense, Jamie – you know my story with Gillian. But neither of you should completely lose yourself.”

Jamie shifted uncomfortably. “If you’re asking if I have other ways to cope with the stress – I have my guitar, and I have my wife. And I have a few people like you, who I trust. Right now I don’t have much time for anything else.”

Dougal crossed his arms. “You need to make the time. If not for you, for her. Especially if you’ll be touring next year. Going all around the world, far from home – your stress levels will be off the charts.”

Jamie sighed. “They already are. I’ve been having panic attacks.”

Dougal sat next to Jamie on the fence. “Has that happened to you before?”

Jamie shook his head. “Not until this tour. And not every day. We’re in early September, and we’ve been on the road since May…maybe fifteen times since then.”

“Is there one particular thing that triggers it?”

“Not that we can tell. Thank God Claire’s a doctor – she’s helped me figure out when it’s starting, and she helps me get to a quiet place away from everyone.” He swiped his eyes beneath his sunglasses. “I usually end up not being able to breathe, and crying, and freaking the fuck out, and my wife is the only thing that physically holds me together. It’s fucking scary, Dougal, and it’s so not fair to her. It’s yet another thing that stresses her out. She has had so much shit in her life these last few years, I can’t fucking stand that she has to see me like that. Deal with yet another level of my bullshit.”

Dougal turned back towards the house. Watched Claire and Gillian on the porch, shaded from the sunshine, enjoying the rocking chairs. Watched William chase around their dog Bram, knowing it would exhaust them both before lunchtime.

“I’ll be straight with you, Jamie, because it’s what you deserve. Claire told Gillian about the panic attacks, and that you were considering bringing a therapist with you on tour next year.”

Jamie crossed his arms. The flames and flowers of his tattoos flexed.

“Gillian and I – let us help you find someone. Someone you can trust implicitly. With the panic attacks, and with your sobriety, and in managing all of the stress. Someone who can help Claire, too. Because the last thing you want, Jamie, is to be in some random city in some random country and it’s two AM after a show and Claire is somewhere else and some asshole backstage has left a baggie of cocaine on your chair and you have a panic attack. And you’re all alone, or with people who you don’t want to see you like that.”

Jamie scuffed his boots in the grass.

“More importantly, you don’t want Claire to start resenting you, for being the person to hold you together.”

Jamie, surprised, whirled to face Dougal. “I don’t think – ”

Dougal raised a hand. “I’m not saying she ever would. I’ve seen you two together. What you have…it can’t be described. But don’t you agree, that you don’t ever want to do anything to fuck that up?”

Jamie pursed his lips. “I promise her every day that I won’t.”

Dougal stepped closer to Jamie. Grabbed his sweaty shoulder. “Then let me help you. Please.”

Jamie slipped off his sunglasses to meet Dougal’s eye. “OK. Thank you.”

Dougal smiled. “Consider it our wedding present. Now come on – just a few more boards.”

#outlander #outlander fanfic #jamie and claire #little bit better than i used to be

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suethesocks · 7 months

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Ascalon Redesigns!

Ive always bashed Ascalon alot (still do) but watching kuro's breakdowns i coudnt help but wonder about how cool it wouldve been if it was actually executed well

My main gripes with it is that it didnt look like technology, made no sense to look the way it does, and felt very poorly thought out overall like the lore for it was a complete afterthought

As you can see here (and in my george design) Ive made ascalon alot more technological-looking and like something azmuth would actually build

So whats the deal with this device? Ascalon is a weapon that uses the incomplete DNA of powerful beings (such as celestialsapiens) to harness their power and manifest it into a superpowerful suit of armor and weapon that, if used correctly, can be used to dissect and study the fabric of reality.

This way Ascalon contrasts alot more directly to the omnitrix, being both DNA devices of sorts. And both made for the purposes of knowledge, but one is alot more destructive and obviously made for offensive purposes than the other

I gave it those weird vertical circle thingies to sort of look like the star alignment we saw in the flashbacks with Zennith. Always found it weird how that never came up and the design didnt evoke it at all apart from simply.. being long?

The armor and weapon are based off of the user and what their mind sort of understands as "combat gear." This is why it looks like a knights armor for George and how it manifests into a sword (or rather one of those cartooonishly large claymores). I tried to give it white tubes and some green dots to evoke the omnitrix more. Also slapped on a cool big cape because every robot armor should have a cape tbh. I didnt intend for that at the time but this ended up being a motif throughout the designs, finding a way to incorprate cloth into them

Here we have a hypothetical design for azmuth if he were to wield it. For galvans i imagine they probably go into battle in giant mechs, so thats what his ascalon is. Gave ascalon that 1 zigzag that his staff in soto has, but tried to move away from the soto mechs design for this bc i never imagined that one was used for serious military combat

In the azmuth flashbacks we saw that he gave Ascalon to an incursean warrior which is what led to their homeworld's destruction. I think DJW later said that the warrior was not an Incursean but idc !!

I drew this in the same pose that the warrior had in the shot we saw him in. Gave him the classic incursean helmet as well as some more incursean-y elements to his armor. He has a normal sword that looks more like canon ascalon's than george's (i wish i could pretend it was because hes the technical original wielder of ascalon so he gets to have the design match the canon but no it was a coincidence)

We saw Vilgax wield Ascalon for a brief moment in the show so i had to! This ascalon was a very easy choice for me since i made up my mind ages before i even got the idea. Vilgax should never ever wield any sort of weapon, because hes simply strong enough on his own that he can pure muscle and brain his way out of any conflict. Brute force is his fortei, not becasue hes dumb but because he just doesnt need to do anything else. BUT if you were to give him a weapon, it shouldnt be a sword or a gun (both things UAF had lmao) it should be something like a hammer or a mace or gauntlets. Brute force sort of weapon

Vilgax is a already warlord so it was simple to work off of his canon OS design (the coolest one) and come up with an armor for him. I also took some inspirations from Eva Unit-02 for the helmet and the cape (specifically its debut where it was covered in cloth)

Of course, for ascalon i had to go with hammer. I mean his ship is called the Chimeran Hammer so you gotta! Also i think its the most fun visual with vilgax

Last but not least, the last person to wield ascalon in the show, Ben himself! I originally wasnt planning to do this, but then i got the idea of giving him these 2 designs to represent his change in mindset he has in the finale

In the beginning hes mostly influenced by how he saw george wield ascalon and stuff,and hes kinda losing it in the sauce a little. So he has an armor similar to that of goerge. Then as he remembers his friends and his humanity, he comes back down to earth (metaphorically?) and his armor itself shifts to represent this, being a mostly cartoonish armor based off ultra ben who i assume is like bens sona or something lol

The cloth is a menacing badass cape like George's, but then shifts into this sort of bubbly friendly skirt. His weapon also shifts from daggers wrapped around the omnitrix (representing using the omnitrix as a wepaon) to a shield wrapped around the omnitrix (representing using the omnitrix as a peacekeeping device)

These weapons dont actually interact with his omnitrix in anyway, theyre mostly just wrapped around it so he can still access it. The aliens would probably have george's armor but with slight changes to fit each alien better

Bonus!!

My own takes on Vilcubra and Dagax

Always really really really disliked both of these designs in the show, they felt like they went through zero drafts before the final design and they just kinda did whatever (which isnt far off from how the rest of this arc was handled lol)

I tried making vilcubra look more creepy and like his body was indeed transformed to be a servant, and also closer to how the lacubras actually look so i SLASHED off his toesies and took out his eyes and put them on his shoulders so they dont look like eyes (leaving room for the teeth to overtake the face) also gave him a tail

I think the idea behind having Dagax be a floating vilcubra head vilgax was because they thought a floating normal vilgax head would look goofy (theyre right) but i think they failed to realize that the floating vilcubra head is equally goofy even if indeed you give it red eyes. So i just tried to make my design be something of a mix between the actual Dagon and vilgax

I admit i ran into some trouble trying to do that as vilgax was the OG cthulu inspired design, so trying to mix him with other cthulu presented trouble. I tried to at least slant his eyes the same way they looked in OS and give him the OS yellow spots, as well as the 2 big tentacles he has in the back of his head in OS and OV

#art #digital art #fanart #ben 10 #ben 10 fanart #ben 10 ultimate alien #vilgax #azmuth #ascalon

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chvoswxtch · 1 year

Note

Hi! I’m really sorry to keep requesting this but could you write about blackwidow!reader being on a mission to kill Matt/Daredevil and that she ends up getting close to him just because of the mission but it could possibly end with a happy ending?

please never apologize for a request! you have no idea how beyond flattered I am that you come to me with your ideas & trust me to bring them to life. I am having so much fun with all of these matt x black widow reader requests, so thank you! ❤️

warning: some swearing, slight mentions of violence word count: 2.2k

we can do this together.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. You were never supposed to hesitate. You were never allowed to question a mission. And up until now, you never had. But he made you question everything.

“You don’t have to do this. I know you don’t want to.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know everything about you. You lied about a few things, yeah, but nothing that mattered. Everything else you told me was real. Listen-“

“Don’t move.”

You aimed your gun directly at Matt’s chest, pausing his ascension forward. He quickly brought his hands up in surrender, the sides of his mouth turned downwards in a slight grimace.

“Y/N, you’re not gonna shoot me.”

Even though half of his face was covered, you could see the betrayal written on his features clear as day beneath the glowing moonlight. You could practically envision the hurt permeating his golden honey eyes, and that image in your head punctured your heart like a jagged, rusty blade. The effect of your treachery was evident in his voice, but you had to remind yourself why you were here. You cocked the hammer of your gun as you clenched your jaw, noting the way his lips parted slightly in response to take in a breath.

“No?”

At this point you weren’t sure who you were trying to convince more; him or yourself.

Your grip on the handle tightened as you struggled to compose yourself.

He’s just another mission. You’ve done this a thousand times. Just pull the trigger.

Matt swallowed thickly as he took a cautious step forward, shaking his head slowly as he spoke.

“No, you won’t. You won’t hurt me.”

You fired a warning shot by his foot, causing him to freeze immediately. He turned his head away from the sound of the bullet ricocheting off the concrete of the rooftop, wincing as the sound pierced his sensitive ears. Matt’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, letting a frustrated sigh escape his mouth as he focused his head in your direction. The disappointment was practically radiating off of him, and it made you sick to your stomach.

“Stop pretending like you know me. You only know the version of me I wanted you to see. Manipulation and deception are our greatest strengths, Matthew. It’s how we bring down empires.”

Matt scoffed as he let out a humorless laugh, instantly dropping his hands by his sides and clutching them into tight fists as he shook his head defiantly and took another bold step forward.

“No.”

Goddamnit Matthew, stop. Quit being so fucking stubborn.

“It’s not up for debate.”

Deep down you wanted him to run. He was quick and stealthy, you knew that. He could disappear before you even had a chance to track him. That would give you more time. To do what, you weren’t sure. Delay the inevitable? Hope they pulled you off this task and assigned someone else? Runaway yourself?

But Matt wasn’t a runner. He was just as combative outside of the courtroom as he was in it. There was no changing his mind once it had already been made up, he was too tenacious.

“It’s bullshit. I know when you’re lying. I can tell by your heartbeat. You can lie to everyone else, but you can’t lie to me.”

Matt’s confession stunned you completely. He was blind, you knew that for a fact. But he was also the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. You hadn’t quite figured out how he was able to do the things he did, but it wasn’t important to your assignment, so you weren’t allowed to test your curiosity. Get in, get what you need, eliminate the threat, and get out. Those were the rules.

None of this matters. He’s a mission. Just complete it.

Sensing a falter in your facade, Matt took another cautious step forward, and you reflexively aimed your gun directly towards his face. You never had an issue completing an assignment before. Every target you were assigned to take out was a threat. It never bothered you before, because each of them had things far worse than skeletons in their closets. Some of them had committed sins you didn’t think any God could forgive. The world was better off without them.

Why was this time so hard?

Because it was Matt. Matthew Murdock that let his clients repay him in banana bread for helping them get justice. Matthew Murdock that gave his literal blood, sweat, and tears every night for a city that would never thank him or even know his real name.

Because it was Matt that stopped by your apartment randomly and asked you to accompany him to do mundane tasks like go grocery shopping, or claiming he needed feedback on his closing argument with an elaborate ruse. He always had an excuse, but it was simply because he knew you didn’t have any family either, and sometimes felt just as alone as he did. It was Matt that remembered how much you loved pickles and always offered you his even if he wanted them. It was Matt that walked you home every time you went to Josie’s, even though you lived 2 blocks away, because he wanted to make sure you made it home safe.

Because it was Matt, and he wasn’t really the threat; Daredevil was. Because Daredevil was dangerous. Because he was too good at what he did, and was getting too close. Your other targets were more competition than threats. But him? He was a threat. They had every right to be terrified of him. They should be.

The only advantage you had at the moment was that you hadn’t reported that you figured out Daredevil’s identity. They didn’t know about Matt. But if you were able to figure it out, you knew another widow could too. Matt was only safe the longer you dragged out this assignment, and you were running out of time.

“Sweetheart-“

“Don’t.”

You squeezed your eyes shut as you tried to focus. It felt like you were spiraling in a haunting kaleidoscope of guilt and fear, anxious as to where you would land. You were fighting against every single code of your programming. Everything you were trained to do. Everything you were molded to be. Matt had unlocked something in you, and you were struggling to keep it contained.

“Put the gun down.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Just-“

“You don’t understand.”

You didn’t even try to mask the vulnerability in your voice. Part of you knew Matt was right. Your mission was to get close to him, but either consciously or subconsciously, you’d also let him get close to you. You had told him things, real things, that no one else knew. You tried to convince yourself that it was to draw him in closer, to make him trust you so you could take advantage of him. But the more you were around him, the truth became harder to deny. Matt Murdock was like gravity. You were drawn to him, like everyone else around him, and he grounded you into a space that felt secure.

“Then help me understand. Please, sweetheart.”

“I can’t just walk away. One of us isn’t leaving this roof alive.”

“I don’t believe that. I’m not going to hurt you. I won’t fight you.”

“Then you’ll die.”

Matt charged forward until the barrel of your gun was pressed directly against his sternum. The action surprised you and caused you to stumble backwards, but Matt gripped onto your wrist and forced you to keep the gun in place. The way his chest was heaving had your hand almost shaking, and you grit your teeth in annoyance at his persistence.

“Then shoot me.”

“Goddamnit, Matthew. I’m not what you think I am.”

“I know you’re not what they made you.”

Your fingers trembled slightly around the handle of the gun. Emotions were something you were trained to let go of. They were never supposed to get in the way or compromise a mission. But a piece of you refused to accept the truth that was gnawing at the pit of your stomach; you couldn’t pull the trigger. You knew that. He knew that.

“I can’t walk away. You don’t…you have no idea what…what they’ll do to me.”

A shudder raced down your spine at the thought. You knew what happened to widows that couldn’t complete a mission. They were tortured if they were compromised, and only granted the mercy of death when their body finally gave out. A low growl ripped through Matt’s chest as he tore the gun out of your hands, throwing it behind him as he grabbed onto the back of your neck with his other and pulled you flush into his chest.

“They are not going to touch you ever again.”

“Matt-“

“You are not what they made you.”

“Stop trying to save me. You don’t know what I’ve done-“

“I don’t care.”

“You should-“

“Whatever you did, it was against your will. They didn’t give you a choice. But you have one now, Y/N.”

You didn’t deserve his forgiveness. You didn’t deserve his understanding. Whatever light he saw in you had to just be a reflection of his own. Why did he have to be so good? Matt had found a loose thread in your being, unraveling everything you thought was real, and had you now completely wrapped around him. Ever the good Catholic boy, here he was still trying to save you, even when you had pointed a gun in his face and threatened his life.

Matt quickly pulled off his helmet, tossing it carelessly to the side as he cupped your jaw delicately in his gloved hands like you might shatter any second. The anguish shadowing his beautiful face made you wish he had kept the fucking thing on. You couldn’t handle the look in his eyes.

“Come with me. Let me help.”

“You can’t-“

“I can. I can help. I have friends that will help. We can take them down together, sweetheart. You don’t have to be scared. I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise. No one is ever going to hurt you again. We can do this together.”

Matt pressed his forehead to yours, reaching for one of your hands to hold against his chest. He gave your wrist a light squeeze, gently nudging your nose with his own.

“I know you, honey. I’ve heard your heart, and I can feel your soul. Please come with me.”

“Matt…if anything happened to you-“

“Nothing is going to happen to me. Nothing is going to happen to you. We can protect each other. We can do this, sweetheart. I know we can. But I need you to trust me.”

Something about Matthew Murdock made you feel like you knew who you were outside of the Red Room. Who you really wanted to be. You’d felt the spark the first time you met; something pure and light like you’d never felt before. Every second you spent with him, you felt like pieces of you were being healed, so much so that you hadn’t even realized some parts weren’t broken anymore until you noticed they stopped hurting.

There had to be something good still left in you. If Matt believed you could find redemption, it had to be true. He was the first person you felt like you could actually trust, and that was terrifying. But despite everything, the heartbreaking truth he had learned about you, the revelation of lies and deceit, he was still here. He was offering you his forgiveness, and his hand, but more than that, he was offering you something you hadn’t felt in a lifetime; hope.

“I…I don’t know how this works, Matt.”

“We figure it out together, one step at a time.”

“I don’t think I’m worth all this trouble.”

“I do.”

Matt’s face had softened as he pulled back slightly, blank eyes darting back and forth as they burned with recognition. There was a melancholic smile tugging at the corner of his mouth while he nodded his chin in your direction.

“I know that darkness you feel. I know you think there’s something inside of you that can’t be fixed. And…maybe it can’t. But I do know that you and I are a lot more alike than you think. Our broken pieces…they fit, Y/N. I think you feel that too. We fit together, sweetheart. We can do this. We can take them all down, together.”

It was hard to argue with the confidence and conviction in Matt’s voice. You could feel his own heart beating strongly against your palm through his suit. It hadn’t faltered once. You couldn’t tell if it was because he really believed that, or if he refused to believe anything else.

This decision would alter your life forever. There would never be any going back, and it was quite literally life or death. But you had never been more sure of anything in your life.

“Where do we start?”

Matt let out a deep exhale of relief, his entire body visibly relaxing as your words hit his ears. His mouth parted into that dazzling smile that made you dizzy, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear and leaning in to carefully brush his lips against yours.

“How about dinner?”

#matt murdock #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x black widow!reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x female reader #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock fic #matt murdock request #daredevil #daredevil fic

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fieldofdaisiies · 1 year

Text

Ruhn Danaan x Reader | Like I Do

type: fluff, smut warning(s): curse words, explicit descriptions, unprotected sex, use of guns word count: 3k words request: @kennedy-brooke: hi lovely 🖤 i hope you are doing okay! idk if youre taking requests- but if by some chance you are (if not just completely ignore the ask i promise i wont be offended) would you be willing to write a ruhn oneshot? enemies/rivals to loversish with a fluffy ending (maybe smut if ur feeling up to it). i genuinely LOVE that u write for him, esp bc he is criminally underwritten for (smh) and i just know youd do it justice <3 xoxo -k

The gun is hot against your palm when the bullet just about an inch misses bull's eye. A frustrated groan leaves you, but a second later turns into an annoyed one.

“Close, but not close enough.” Tossing your braid over one shoulder and fully pushing back the earmuffs that have only covered one ear and now land on your shoulders, you glance back and lift a brow at the starborn prince that is casually leaning against the doorframe, a grin on his lips.

“Your business?”

“I am just trying to be helpful.” “Fuck off.” You turn back and place the small gun down, wanting to reach for a bigger one when a presence moves close to you. The scent of cologne and night fills your nostrils and you desperately try to not inhale. You hate him. You hate him so much.

Or…you want to hate him. You want to hate him so much. But you can't. Something has always been pulling you towards him and that is stressing you out. Not only because Pollux would do unspeakable things to you if he found out but also because he is Ruhn Danaan, Crown Prince of the Valbaran fae and you really, really don't want to have feelings for such a spoiled git.

“Let me help you,” Ruhn says and closes the door behind him with the kick of his foot.

“I really don't need help from someone like you," you growl and feel anger burn inside your veins.

He fakes hurt and folds a hand over his heart. “Ouch, that hurt." “Good.”

Ruhn chuckles lowly, watching you as you reach for a gun, one that is bigger than the one you just had.

“Really? That one?” Ruhn questions, his presence making you terribly angry. And nervous. And…aroused. What the hell is wrong with you? you ask yourself.

You roll your eyes, more at yourself but you hope he takes the hint—that his presence is not welcomed.

“Oh, so you think I cannot handle a big gun?” You put some stress to the word big and gun, slowly sucking your lower lip between your teeth while you give the starborn prince a once over.

Ruhn chuckles casually while his blood runs hot. And not only his skin but also one very specific body part tightens at how you have spoken the words. He has no doubt you can handle a big gun, but he internally knows that it will be his end to see you lift that rifel onto your shoulder and fire.

Oh, does he want to hate you. The Hammer being your lover should already make all the alarm bells in his head ring and it is probably your biggest red flag. Ruhn has wanted to hate you since the moment he met you, you are so proud and arrogant, but he cannot. It seems like a sheer impossibility, so all he can do is pretend and pretend only.

And that nearly drives him insane, because look at you – the most stunning, gorgeous female he has ever seen. Beautiful lips, soft skin, captivating eyes, your are breathtaking and outstand—

“Done drooling?” Your brow cocks up, challenge glowing like bright flames in your eyes.

The starborn prince’s nostrils flare, his eyes narrowing on you and he huffs a chuckle. “I wasn’t drooling.” Pushing your hip of the counter, you move to him, standing so close you are nearly breathing the same air. Your gazes lock and one could cut the tension with a knife when you place the not yet loaded gun under his chin, tipping it up. “You totally were, princeling.”

Ruhn’s lips form a smirk when his slender fingers curl around the gun and he moves your hand away from his jaw, but only to pull you to him, both your hands and the gun trapped between your bodies.

“Maybe thinking of you handling a big gun truly makes me drool,” Ruhn says, his voice dropping at least an octave. The deep tenor reverberates through you, making your toes curl. Ruhn is rewarded with hearing the breath hitch in your throat and he takes this moment to lean in, his brow raising when his eyes trail your features.

“So prove to me that you can truly work with such a big gun.” A smirk appearing on your lips and colour blooming high on your cheeks, you pull your hand out of his hold, step backwards and turn around so you can walk back to the stall where you put your gun down and pick up a bigger rifle.

“I thought you said big and not as small as this tiny thing.” Cackling, you flash him a grin over your shoulder, mischief sparkling in your eyes. “I bet that’s what most girls say to you in the bedroom.”

Every irrational thought has definitely left him, Ruhn thinks, because he finds your teasing more than erotic. He tries to glower, a small growl leaving him before a grin parts his lips. “Feisty little thing.” Now you huff, the tone rather playful than annoyed. “Take that back.” “Only if you hit bull's eye.” You wave your hand, that is not holding the gun at him, rolling your eyes and turn back, your whole focus going to the target. And damn him. You immediately lose focus again when his figure moves closer to you, towering over you, his chest nearly against your back.

“Can you step back?” you snap, almost growling at him.

“Why? Am I making you nervous?” His voice is taunting, a sweet whisper brushing down your spin. You hate this, you hate what he does to you.

“No,” you say and push your elbow backwards, shoving him softly. “I just need space.”

He chuckles, but gets the memo and gives you some more space—not much though.

You pop on the glasses again, and move the ear cuffs up, hefting the bigger rifle into your hands. Weighing it in your arms, you grin, hoping it will annoy him that you indeed can handle this big boy.

I’ll be dammed, Ruhn thinks when he cannot move his eyes away from you, his gaze following the movement of your fingers brushing over the chassis, stroking all the way down to the butt plate. He swallows hard and clear his throat, his hardening cock a painful ache behind his tight pants. You fit the gun to your shoulder with graceful simplicity. All your focus is finally on the target.

And then…

Ruhn nearly comes at the sight of you firing and aiming bull’s eye. His mouth gapes, a silent gasp leaving him. “Fuck.”

He internally thanks every god and higher being that you wear those cuffs and have not heard him. He is still in admiration when you turn to him, removing the ear cuffs, then the glasses and placing all things down on the counter. Ruhn wants to praise you for the shot, but he cannot give you that just then.

“Good, but still a lot you need to work on.” He is a cocky ass bastard, you decide once again. And Ruhn also knows that himself, but he just loves seeing you angry, all riled up, because this is what gets him worked up. Until meeting you he has had no idea that anger could be so hot, would turn him on so much.

“You know what, Ruhn, I really don’t care and I am anyways done for today. I am done here.” Shoving his shoulder, you brush past him, ripping the door open, dashing outside.

He annoys you and you know that the longer you stay with him the more it will hurt. Because this hate, this hate for him does not specifically come from him being a dick. It comes from your raging feelings for him. But your are stuck with Pollux and Ruhn hates you, so leaving Pollux would not be the solution to the problem, you would just be alone.

So you have to get out, get away from him. It is too much, and your hopes and dreams of what could be if you and Ruhn—

You shut your mind down and clamp your mouth shut when you run into the locker room, adjoint to the shower room. For a moment you just sit there, on one of the benches, staring at the opposite wall. Over the blood rushing in your ears from how many thoughts are coursing through your mind and the emotions bubbling up inside of you, you don’t even hear the door open.

Until—

You jump to your feet and your jaw drops to the ground. The starborn prince leans against the threshold leading to the bathroom, and is wearing just a towel around his waist. Your eyes lower for a moment, following the tattoos on his chest, his arms, glancing at his strong, solid muscles, his pierced nipples, moving up again to his lip ring, he is currently sucking between his teeth.

Your body flushes hot, and your have to first catch your breath to say something. Ruhn is quicker though.

“Sorry,” he says woth graceful simplicity —so casually, so cool, like it will make everything good. Like this word would solve all your problems.

You are irritated because in this very moment you don’t even know what he would be apologising for.

He has been cocky, yes, but that is it. He has done nothing wrong other than teasing and taunting you.

“I really dislike you, Ruhn,” you say with a smile on your face when you lift your gaze to his.

“A sweet little liar you are.”

“Wasn't lying,” you drawl and take a step closer to him. Ruhn also pushes of the threshold, eyes roaming your figure. “Nobody can hate some one and look at them like that.” Your voice is a breathy whisper when you ask, “Like what?” “Like you are stripping me bare with your eyes, imagining what is underneath that,” —Ruhn’s hand falls to his lower abdomen— “towel.”

You swallow thickly, desire clouding your vision.

“Something very little and tiny, I assume.” You grin, hoping to have landed a blow to his ego. But Ruhn only shakes his head and laughs. “Want to find out?” Your mind, and heart, and also your lady parts scream YES in unison when your lips part and you avert your gaze.

“Idiot,” you huff instead, trying to focus on anything but his private parts. Those thoughts you only allow in the dead of night.

“You are a starborn dick, Ruhn.”

His shoulders shake with silent laughter and Ruhn wipes one hand over his towel. “Yeah, I assume my dick has star potential…which brings me back to the topic.” He pauses, silently regarding and assessing you. He can see the desire in your eyes, your arousal so poignant, so delicious, your passion just as acute as his own.

Ruhn knows that this is the last chance to make you his. He knows if he lets you go again today there will never be a future for the two of you, and as much as he wants to hate you, he cannot bring himself to do so. So this is his last chance. That is why he is pulling all registers. “So we are going to shower together now? Angry fucking is always a good option.”

“I hate you.” A silly grin spreads over your whole face.

Ruhn’s hand brushes up your arm, to your shoulder and he curls his finger under the strap of your top. “Is that a yes?”

Your hands meet his chest first, then your lips close over his and you push him back agains the wall behind him. “Yes,” you breathe into his mouth, lips moving against each other, devouring the other. The kiss is passionate, hungry, like you have been longing, yearning for each other your whole life.

And it truly feels like this. Ruhn can't get enough, his hands are all over you, pulling your shirt up, unclipping your bra and tossing it away. He turns the two of you, you are now pressed against the wall, his hand moving over your chest, cupping your breast.

“So perfect,” the starborn prince groans against your neck, lips moving over the skin in a bruising kiss that has you moaning. His thumb rubs your taut nipple, before rolling it between his finger and his thumb. “Do that again.” And as bad as you do not want to do it again, you do, a moan parting your lips, your head falling back to the bathroom wall, eyes closing.

Finges curling around the edge of his towel, you simply pull it away, the starborn prince now in front you in all his nude glory. And gods, is he beautiful.

His erection is a hard press against your lower belly when his hips rub against you. His hands sliding down your sides, softly squeezing your hips, before moving to your rear. He helps you out of your leggings, pulling the little piece of nothing that is your underwear down your legs as well.

“Did you put them on already planning ahead?” Ruhn rasps in your ear, before pushing of the wall behind you and lifting the panties. “Going to keep them by the way.”

And with that he tosses them over to his bag, them landing perfectly in it.

“Ruhn!” you express loudly.

“Remember that name for when you come. Would like to hear you scream it.”

The starborn prince winks, amused by your stunned expression. You shove at his shoulder, laughing, but when his palm touches your lower belly, fingers splayed out, the laughter dies down. A gasp slips through your lips when Ruhn slides his hand lower, his heated gaze not leaving you, his lips still a smirk.

His middle finger touches the apex of your thighs and he once again leans into you. “You want this, right?”

Soft lips brush your jaw, your own hand sliding up Ruhn’s arm, over his shoulder, his neck, finding its place in the hair at the nape of his neck. You bring his mouth to yours, nipping softly at his lower lip. “Nothing I want more.”

This must have been his undoing—all restraints are gone.

Ruhn parts your hot flesh, sliding one, then two fingers inside of you, groaning at the wetness he is met with. “Always so wet for me?” he says, lips mere inches form his, a string of saliva connecting your mouths. You reward him with a grin, your own fingers curling around his proud length, stroking him, your thumb brushing the crown where a bead of liquid has already built up.

“Can return the question,” you pant, “always so hard for me?” Ruhn adds a third finger when he says, “Never not hard when I am around you.” Something tells you that this is the truth and you find it…incredibly hot.

When desire and need fully overflow the two of you, it all gets too much, the rising lust and need hardly bearable any longer. Ruhn’s fingers slip out of you. You kiss down his neck, still working him, the ungodly sound of him suckling on his fingers, the ones that have been inside of you, making you clench your thighs, your walls squeezing around nothing.

He moans low in his throat, nothing tastes like you, he knows that. The only thing he will need in his life from now on.

Your moan, the silent plea Ruhn understands, draws his attention fully back to you. His eyes darker than usual, ablaze, move over your face, stopping at your lips. “Jump,” he says and kisses you again, hands grabbing your ass, lifting you up, pushing you against the wall when you simultaneously bring the tip of his rigid cock to your entrance. He slides in with ease, having prepared you well, his length stretching you out, filling you so perfectly. And you fit perfectly, like his cock has been made exactly for you.

A groan makes Ruhn press an open-mouthed kiss against your jaw, hips softly moving against yours. Your curl your legs around his waist, nails digging into his shoulders from how tightly you hold onto him.

“So wet and and tight, sweetheart,” Ruhn drawls, licking over your ear.

“Just for you, starborn prince.” Your raspy voice has his cock twitching and he pushes harder into you, pounding you against the tile wall, skin slapping against skin, but also against the wall. The sounds are so wet, so sinful. Also the pöace you have chosen is somehow a sin.

Are you truly letting Ruhn, the starborn prick, fuck you in the bathroom or a public olace?

"I bet he can't fuck you like I do."

A strangled cry leaves you in response because he truly can't.

"Say it!" Ruhn commands. "Say that he can't fuck you like I do." "No one can fuck me like you do. It is only your cock that–"

You cry out loudly, Ruhn’s name mixing with curses, when your throw your head back and squeeze him tightly. You move along with him, riding his proud length.

“I know, sweetheart. I know.” Ruhn himself releases a deep growl, taking you harder, rougher, his thrusts deep, making you feel every glorious inch of him.

You come with a scream, hand twisted in his hair, the starborn prince’s mouth on your boob, suckling, his tongue flicking over the taut bud. He follows quickly after you, hips moving against yours with sloppy thrusts when his hot release spurts of your walls.

“We forgot protection.”

You release a loud breath, chest heaving with deep inhales, eyes squeezed shut. Sweat grazes your skin and you pant loudly, ringing for air so you can answer him. “I’m on…the pill.”

A relieved groan leaves Ruhn at that and he kisses your brow, slowly helping you climb down, softly placing your shaky legs on the ground. “Can stand alone?”

His seed is running down the insides of your thighs when you glance downwards, knees wobbly. You hold onto him and give your head a little shake. “No, need you.”

Leaning forward you kiss his chest before leaning your chin against his chest and smiling up at him.

“I will break up with Pollux tonight. Will you offer me a place to stay, a bed to sleep?” “Nothing I would rather want.” Happiness makes a small tear appear in the corner of the prince's left eye. He kisses your nose, your forehead, your mouth, pulling you to him by your shoulders.

“My home is always open for you and I will always welcome you. I will wait outside when you break up with him, I cannot not,” —Ruhn kisses your pouted lips— “let you go alone. And yes, I know you are a grown girl amd very strong, but I cannot risk anything. I will be there, all the time.”

You kiss his toned chest again, smiling. “I know that Ruhn. I really do.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

tags: @azrielsbabyg @brekkershadowsinger @euphoricpixiee

#ruhn danaan x reader #ruhn x reader #ruhn danaan #crescent city

229 notes · View notes

elithemiar-blog · 4 months

Text

Weight. There's a weight on his chest, a comfort as he feels his chest expand.

He runs the corner, heart rate hammering at the sight of Chay with a gun pressed to his head.

His finger twitches, soft fabric brushing against warmth, cotton -- a shirt.

The kidnapper sees him and lowers the gun, aiming at Chay's chest then abdomen, his own gun in his hand and a command on the tip of his tongue. Then two sharp bangs fill the room, soft and muffled, Chay's arms curling around his stomach as he instantly curls and drops to his knees. An all consuming rage burns through his veins, and the kidnapper only grins.

His body shifts, and warm sunlight penetrates through the cover of his eyelids indicating morning has arrived.

Chay's name is released through a guttural scream as he watches the boy fall limp onto the dusty floor.

Blurry sight of a white ceiling meets his opened eyes, his mind still fogged from sleep -- the most restful he's gotten in days.

He rushes forward, anger and panic flushing through his nerves. As one body after another falls by a combined effort of force between hand and gun, until he is the only thing standing between his opponents and Chay, the kidnapper had disappeared.

The weight of him shifts and he looks down, watching and realizing who lays on him. He feels the calm facial features change as the boy nuzzles into him.

He whips around, already twisting his limbs out of both jacket and the shirt underneath, placing the two items on Chay's abdomen in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

"Why are you pretending to sleep?"

"P'Kim." his soft call, and hand raised towards the older, moving until his hand grips around Kim's wrist, strength already weakening.

"I'm scared."

"Sh, don't talk." Tears streamed down both their cheeks. "We'll get through this…and you can yell at me for fucking up." he places more pressure on the site. "Just stay awake."

"I've always felt unlucky, until I realized that all my luck was to find you."

"Kim!"

Kinn's wrenching yell snapped his head up, the fear he can see in his brother's eyes is gazed behind him.

"Behind…you." Chay's whispered warning steeped in panic and fear for him makes him realize.

"I love you." Chay smiles up at him. "Do you love me?"

Kim realizes that it's too late as he hears the click behind him. With the softest smile, he stares into Chay's widened eyes, "I love you."

He wants to correspond with his own confession, but this has gone too far built on lies, so what's one more.

"I'm hungry." he responds, numb and unsure.

Chay leaves to make breakfast, and he watches from inside his mind, his body moving.

He's had this dream multiple times, where he's been faster at realizing the danger that comes for the boy, for both of them. The regret of walking away later, of not speaking up.

He sits for a little at the table, knowing the exact words he says, the banter, and when they hear the bell.

His eyes cast over the eggs wishing he could entertain the freedom with Chay, but knows that he'll write those words.

Is this his punishment? For him to vividly remember where he wished to change the sequence of events?

He feels the pen, but his hand doesn't move, then he hears Chay yelling for him. He's off in a shot, and the younger is far closer to the gate then what he can remember. He doesn't stop to question what is going on, he keeps going wrestling Chay out of his attacker's grip, the cloth had been over his nose and mouth for barely over a second, his other hand going for that offender's hand and twisting until he feels the snap.

Pulling the younger behind him and backing them farther into the yard, "Go back inside, Chay!" he orders him, moving a step forward, but a grip on his shirt stops him, he turns.

Chay stares at him in shock.

He turns his back on the attackers, grabbing Chay's bicep and pulling him back to the doors. "I promise to explain, but please go back inside." he pushed him forward a little harder than he means to.

Now being able to fully focus on the intruders with Chay being a safer distance away from them, he's able to fight as he's been taught.

When's he's able to turn the taser back on the owner a second taser hits his torso, but this time he knows it's coming, the advantage of somehow being back. Both men fall and his muscles jumble, his knees hitting the ground hard. Looking up to find the crew all knock out, his mind comes with the solution of getting them both to safety.

Finding his feet again, he rushes back inside. "Chay!" he yells, but the boy is nowhere to be see. "Chay!" he tries louder, enough of a strain that his voice pitches in desperation. "Porchay!"

"P'Kim."

The soft reply makes him turn into the kitchen, Chay sits on the floor against the cabinets, he kneels down next to him, hands hovering.

"I'm tired."

The distant gaze makes him shake his head, the memories from seeing the blood and pale skin on the dusty warehouse floor blur, his jaw clenches for just a moment. "It's the chloroform, you can sleep in the car." Kim gets an arm behind his shoulders while putting Chay's arm across his own, "Let's get you packed for a few days."

Chay follows his movements, finding the strength to stand, though his form leans into Kim. "Packed?"

"My place is safer. Let's get you up to your room so you can pack."

"Not…my room." Chay groans, attempting to hide his face away.

Kim mentally questions Chay's embarrassment before smirking, "I already know about your fan shrine."

"P'Kim." Chay whines out.

Kim is very much enjoying having Chay in his arms again, though he'd prefer him wrapped around him with his own strength.

#kinnporsche #kimchay #writing #time travel au #I WROTE THE INTRODUCTION THREE SEPARATE WAYS WTF #this will also end up being a reconciliation fic once I figure out what the hell i'm doing with this #time travel fix-it fics for kimchay #i just want my babies to have a happy ending #i'm learning thai culture through fics #the mirror fic will include thai culture #so if anyone finds something wrong in said future fic #please say something

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