#went though.. He almost had mustache | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the-californicationist · 4 months

Text

he gives great gifts

Price/Reader - TW: remote vibrator, minor female ejaculation

“Hey, love, I’m home,” Price’s voice called out to you, summoning you to the front door.

He was carrying all of your packages and mail, along with his rucksack, home for the weekend. You took the mail, helping him leave the worries of the day at the door to join you in the kitchen. You were making his favorite, chicken spaghetti, and you just started the oven.

Your captain sat at the island counter, opening up the mail and sorting out the bills. He kissed you as you walked past him, his mustache tickling your lip and cheek

“Mm,” he moaned, “How was your day?”

“Good,” you smiled, flirting with him, “Missed you, though. How was yours? Any news from Laswell?”

“No, not yet. Still waiting on the intel. Oh, hey, it came!” He lit up, tearing into a small package with his knife.

“What’s that?” You asked over your shoulder, bending to put the chicken in the oven.

“Bought you an early birthday present. Come see,” he was holding a black box, lifting the lid to reveal the prize inside.

“John, I thought we said no gifts? What did you… oh, my God. Is that what I think it is?”

“Yeah,” he smiled like he had just won a medal, prideful and obviously chuffed, “...and it has a remote.”

You were staring at a lime green, silicone dildo. It was shaped like a curved smile, one large end for insertion and the other smaller end to be nestled on top of your clit.

“A remote?” You asked, taking out the toy and feeling its smoothness in your hands. It was lightweight, but very solid. It seemed expensive, well-crafted, and like John had spent way too much money on you, as usual.

It buzzed in your hands, coming alive with a low rumble. It shocked you, and you almost dropped it.

“Oh, my God!” You laughed, “What was that?”

He held up a matching lime green remote. It was small, like a car fob, and it had a few different buttons to choose from. Price’s face was full of mischief,

“Put it in, love.”

“I’m making dinner,” you protested, but you didn’t put it down.

“So?” He whispered darkly, dragging your hips toward him, kissing you deeply, licking your mouth and leaving little love bites down the side of your neck.

You giggled, smiling sweetly. He made it so easy to give in to him. You sighed,

“Okay, okay. Help me put it in, honey.”

Price put the remote down and slid your pants down to your thighs, pulling your panties down with them. He took the toy from you and opened the little packet of lube that came in the pouch, coating the thick end. He hesitated, slipping his own finger into you first, finding you a little too wet and already turned on.

He made a face, full of delighted surprise, teasing you,

“Someone’s excited, hm?”

Impatient, he slid the toy into you gently, fitting it at your entrance and pressing it up into you. He pulled it back out again and used it to fuck you for a few strokes, making you moan quietly, leaning forward to steady yourself on his huge forearm.

“Mm,” he groaned, “You like that, love?”

“Yeah,” you gasped.

He settled it all the way in and made sure the front was in the right place before replacing your panties and your leggings back up around your waist. You kissed him again, and went back into the kitchen to finish up with dinner.

The excitement of knowing he could control your pleasure was building inside of you. You didn’t see the remote on the countertop, and he was busy recycling the boxes, so you thought you were safe. You leaned down again to check the chicken, and then you almost came out of your skin as the toy came alive inside of you.

Price was unbothered, pouring a few fingers of whisky into his glass, innocently. He saw you looking at him and smiled knowingly, taking a long swig of the amber liquid into his mouth. You glared, but you needed to put the pasta on to boil. So, you turned back around to grab a pot.

Inside of you, the toy buzzed, low and rumbling, shaking your clit and rattling against your g-spot in tandem, freezing you in place, riding out the waves of sensation. You struggled to bring yourself back to your task, but you wanted to play along, so you brought the pot over to the sink, panting, trying to work through the blinding pleasure, filling the pot with warm water. You had a few seconds to wait for it to reach the top, so you closed your eyes, reveling in the vibrations.

You let out a moan, eyes still wrenched shut, hands on either side of the sink.

“Um, love?” Price interrupted your lust, pointing to the pot which was now overflowing.

“Oh, shit,” you turned off the tap, and managed to pour out some of the water without too much trouble.

However, as you turned to walk it back over to the stove, he turned up the intensity. There was now some sort of… rotation… happening inside of you. It honestly felt like you were being fucked, like a cock was thrusting up into you, punishing your core. You stopped in your tracks, gripping the heavy pot for dear life, moaning in full volume.

“John!”

Everything stopped. You gasped, your eyes flitting to him immediately. The captain was grinning from ear to ear, drinking his whisky and enjoying the show. He chuckled,

“What is it? You alright?”

You laughed in short, panting breaths, rolled your eyes at him, and put the pot down to open the pantry for the spaghetti. When you reached for the door handle, the sensations were back, sending bolts of pleasure through your pussy, making your panties damp as you gushed out around the unrelenting dildo. You grabbed the handle tighter, steadying yourself against the frame of the door, resting your body against it, keening like a paid whore. Just as you were about to tumble over the edge, inches away from coming, it stopped again.

“John Price,” you turned toward him, eyes wild, “You did not just - ”

“I’m starving,” he said casually, not even looking in your direction, pretending to scroll through his phone, “Think you’ll have dinner ready soon, love?”

You groaned, opening the door and reaching for the pasta boxes, waiting for him to click the button again.

There was nothing.

You waited in the pantry a little longer, baiting him.

Nothing. Not even a little jiggle.

You barged out of the pantry, and as soon as he saw you, you were sent to your knees. He’d turned whatever setting it was all the way up. You dropped the pasta boxes, crawling on the floor of the kitchen like an animal, screaming out lurid cries and feeling your thighs tremble from the onslaught.

“Did you think I would let you hide in there where I couldn’t see you?” His question was delivered with cold cruelty. He had left his seat and was now standing over you, remote in hand, watching you suffer at his feet. You begged for mercy,

“Baby, please, God… I need… oh, fuck!”

“Pick up the pasta. Now,” He commanded you, his voice loud and oppressive.

“John, please,” you clutched at the leg of his jeans, feeling like you were coming in waves and waves and waves.

He reached down with his empty hand and grabbed you by the hair at the base of your skull, forcing you to look up at him,

“I said: Pick. Up. The. Pasta.”

“Okay, okay…” You were trying to breathe. You let go of his pant leg and reached for the boxes, feeling your pussy clench around the toy as it fucked the life out of you.

Your hands were shaking. The dry spaghetti made the sound of cheap maracas, clattering out of the box and splashing in the boiling water. You tried to open the second box, and you couldn’t. Your hands weren’t following your commands.

Price’s eyes bore into you as he stood next to you, watching you come apart under his control. Very casually, he took the box from you, opened it, and handed it back to you. He was breathing hard, as if he, too, was being subjected to the same sensations.

Unable to stop yourself, you looked down at his cock. It was pressing against his pants, making a perfect outline of itself, hard as a stone. He caught you looking and palmed himself over the top of the fabric, squeezing the head to relieve some of the tension.

You were practically drooling for him. But, you went back to the meal, putting the other box of pasta in as gently as you could. The way that this toy was fucking you almost reminded you of having John’s fingers in you while he sucked on your clit. The vibrations and steady rocking movements brought you to completion in a way where you couldn’t tell where one orgasm ended and the other began.

As you turned your back to face Price, he moved toward you, pulling you away from the stove and shoving you up against the countertop. He snaked his hand between your legs and pushed up on the toy, forcing it to fuck you deeper than normally possible, shoving it in you mercilessly.

“John, I’m going to come, please!”

You came, but it was unique. You felt like you were wetting yourself, coming so hard that fluid was squirting out of you, soaking your panties and leggings, along with John’s invasive hand.

“Mm, fuck,” he growled in your ear, “Did you just squirt for me? Bloody fucking hell.”

“I don’t…” you couldn’t form coherent thoughts, “I dunno. John, help me, please…”

“Sweet girl, do you need this cock?” he pulled your bottoms down, trapping your knees with them, and held you up by your waist. He turned off the vibrator and tugged it out of you gently. You were so slick that it slid out of you without much resistance. Your pussy was throbbing, flooded with come, and desperate for a familiar sort of relief.

“Yes, please, God,” you begged, tears in the corners of your eyes.

“Alright, love,” he let you feel his hot head at your pulsating entrance, ready to sink into you, “It’s alright, I'm here now.”

Reblogs and comments deeply appreciated!

AO3 Link

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain john price #cod #john price #captain price #captain price x reader #captain price x you #captain john price x reader #captain johnathan price #captain john price smut #john price x reader #captain price smut

5K notes · View notes

dunmeshi-darlings · 2 months

Note

Little idea I had..

During the dungeon journey the happened across a random wild spell that turns everyone into a hybrid

All except for izutsumi and the reader (cuz they a kobold)

Thinking how the party reacts to the everyday things the reader goes through

Oh this is a delightfully hilarious idea,i approve of it. Perhaps it was a trap laid in the dungeon by thistle or perhaps another adventurer did it, either way the outcomes are funny.

Laios - You have never seen laios so genuinely excited, He cheered and laughed happily at this new transformation. This is everything he could have ever dreamed of. His transformation made him a dog hybrid so he was perhaps the most similar to You as a kobold. You teach him about properly brushing your fur and how to sit with a tail. Though over all laios couldnt be happier, he finally gets to be more than just a tall man and can be a cool hybrid.

Marcille - She was transformed into a Rabbit hybrid, Her long elf ears now even longer floppy rabbit ears. She was far from excited to say the least, Frantically trying to find a spell that could possible fix this, Though she did have to admit the magic was impressively strong. Her bunny legs were a challenge for her to get used to, she could use them for walking sure but they were more suited for hopping. Her tail wasnt as large so she didnt have as many issue sitting as laios did at first. But you still helped teach her how to handle her instincts and not run away at the slightest of loud noises.

Chilchuck - While you had expected him to become some sort of mouse or rat hybrid, however when it turned out he had become a Racoon hybrid was fitting all things considered. The dark fur pattern around his eyes giving him almost a thieves mask, which you couldnt help but chuckle at how ironic it was. you also taught chilchuck about sitting with a tail now but other than that his transformation went the easiest out of anyones. You did happen to note that chilchuck became incredibly prone to washing his hands before and after eating, an instinct that wasnt actually the worst one to follow.

Senshi - At first you were all confused on what senshi had transformed into. The fur was smooth almost velvety, and his hands had grown slightly bigger, and you noticed the mustache portion of his beard had grown. Eventually Laios realized that senshi must have become a mole hybrid which upon reflection made sense. Truthfully not much about senshi had changed, However he had noted that he now had an insatiable craving for things like Treasure bugs, mimics, and living armor again. This you werent sure if you would attribute it to his new mole hybrid existence or just how he is normally. Either way you helped him get used to his fur/hair which was incredibly soft.

#dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi x reader #laios #chilchuck #marcile #senshi #laios touden #marcille donato #chilchuck tims #senshi of izganda

134 notes · View notes

lilliumrorum · 4 months

Text

What does he have that I don't? (Pilot)

<<Previous | Masterlist | Next>>

Synopsis: After a long and very much tiring solo mission, you head back to the base and report to your Captain. When you finally got home, you found your boyfriend of 2 years in another's mouth.

WC: 0.8k

Content/Warnings: 18+ MDNI, Angst, Cheating.

Notes: This is my first time writing a fanfic, so please don't attack my ass too bad if it's shit.

Going weeks (sometimes even months) without seeing your lover was normal in your shared line of work. Simon had seemed accustomed to it, almost content with you not being around. Being Simon Riley, however, he could barely handle your relationship. Many nights would end with the lights shutting off, Simon shutting down as well. If you tried to even curl up next to him, he would shove you away forcefully. You knew he didn't love you anymore, but you kept denying it. You knew that very night when he left you in bed with no aftercare, with no second glance, and departed to "do some work," he really just wanted to be left alone. He didn't want you anymore, but like a persistent pebble in a shoe, you stubbornly stayed with him.

In your heart, you felt a deep loneliness, the person you thought was your anchor now seems distant and uninterested. Neglect has crept into your relationship, leaving you longing for the love and attention that used to be there. Each day seems like a quiet plea for connection, as his actions show a noticeable change in emotions. The small, affectionate gestures that defined your love story are replaced by an unsettling emptiness. In silence, you face the painful truth that the love you once cherished might be slipping away, and you went through the emotions that come with the fading passion you once shared.

You've been facing the painful realization that Simon's lost interest in your relationship. The passion and desire you once shared had faded, replaced by distance and disinterest. Simon's actions, or lack thereof, show a decline in physical intimacy and affection. Longing for the connection you had left you feeling unfulfilled and undesirable. Dealing with the emotional strain of this shift in attraction became a source of heartache as you navigated the complex emotions of a fading intimate connection with him.

"Sergeant?"

Your Captain's questioning voice quickly brought you back to reality. His salt-and-pepper hair and subtle crow's feet added character to his face, and his inquisitive look was accentuated by the movement of his mustache along with his lips.

"Yes, sir?"

"Are you alright? you seem on edge still."

The Captain's concern for you was evident in the genuine worry etched across his face. His questioning voice took on a tone of care, reflecting his kind yet impatient personality. As he looked at you with genuine concern, the words he spoke mirrored the sincerity in his eyes, emphasizing the depth of his worry and the genuine connection between Captain and Sergeant. He knew what was wrong. He could instantly tell what was bothering you. Price was aware of how you were discarded, as if you were nothing. He had seen that sullen, tired, lifeless look in your eyes every time his lieutenant was mentioned. Though he had knowledge of your situation, he would never pry into your affairs, despite his great concern.

"Of course, just a smidge tired. That's all." You shot him a lazy grin.

"Take care of yourself, Sergeant."

He motioned toward the door, indicating that you could be dismissed.

"And {name}, Great work. I'm proud of how much effort you put into your assignments." He smiled.

"Thank you, Captain," you quickly saluted and left the office.

Beginning the long and unpleasant walk back to your shared Room on base, many thoughts began to run through your mind. Usually, Simon would ask when you were coming home. However, that stopped months ago. Simon would buy you a large bouquet of flowers and hand them to you as soon as you entered the door. After a night of lovemaking, he would whisper sweet nothings into your ear. But one cannot change time. Oh, how you wish you could. You've tried to talk to him, but he would just respond with the clicking of his teeth or even wave you off.

You missed the moments that once filled your heart with tenderness. The wish to turn back time and revive the warmth is a constant thought. Trying to talk to Simon only results in indifferent grunts or dismissive gestures, highlighting the growing divide. The once vibrant thrumming of your heart is now silent, and the journey back to your room becomes an exploration of a changing relationship, where communication is elusive, leaving you to chart the emotional terrain alone.

You haven't the slightest clue why you stayed, why your heart still melted at the sight of him. You still loved him. You told yourself over and over that this wasn't the Simon you knew and that this was Ghost. Your stubborn heart wouldn't listen.

"Shit, that walk was fast." You murmured to yourself, the room coming into view.

You don't even bother to knock, too worn out to even care if you were shouted at. The anticipation of reprimand looms, and the weariness you carry is met with the potential for Simon's raised voice, making every move a delicate dance around his disapproval.

You could not believe what was taking place right before your eyes.

More notes: Sorry this is so short, remember that this is my first time writing!! This will be a series!:) I am planning on starting part one tonight and posting it tomorrow!!

#ghost angst #soapghost #john soap mactavish #cod mw2 #soap x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #john price #john price x reader #ghost smut

192 notes · View notes

chlorinecake · 5 months

Note

Hey can you make something like "kissing I hope they catch us " but for a black reader please?

Hot Cocoa Kisses —⊹ N.RK (西村力) ☕️

Pairing… ₊˚⊹ ᰔ boyfriend!riki x girlfriend!reader

Warnings… ₊˚⊹ slightly heated make-out session, teasing, pet names, fluff, rushed

Words… ₊˚⊹ ᰔ 867 -> “Your lips taste like hot cocoa”

It was a chilly winter day when you and your boyfriend Riki sat in the living room together.

Cradled in the fluffiest blankets you two could find, you sat in between Riki’s legs on the couch, reading a manga he received as a Christmas gift out loud as he braided a tiny section of your hair. Not to style it, of course, but just out of pure endearment for you.

“So what’s happening now?” Riki asked, mostly focused on carefully overlapping the three strands of hair he was working on.

“Hmm… I actually stopped reading the words a few pages ago. The illustrations alone are much more interesting in my opinion,” you replied, just as he kissed the center of your scalp, letting you know that he was done playing with your hair.

“Let me see,” he said, taking the comic from your hands to examine it for himself. “Yeahhh… the dialogue is pretty impressive, actually. No wonder a little baby like you only wants to look at the pictures though,” he giggled, tickling the spot beneath your jawline before getting up and walking towards the kitchen.

You weren’t ready to leave the warmth of the cozy couch yet, but you understood that Riki wanted one more thing before y’all continued to spend this lovely winter evening together: Hot cocoa.

Your arms found Riki’s waist as he reached for the top cabinet, grabbing the box of hot cocoa mix from the top shelf.

“Almost forgot about these,” he said, pulling down mini marshmallows next.

You put yourself in charge of warming the milk for your drinks, followed by stirring the cocoa mix into your mugs and then waiting for it to cool.

“Are they finished, yet? It’s not like we’re making “cold cocoa” anyways,” Riki sighed, leaning over the counter on his elbows.

“Well if we add the marshmallows now, they’re just gonna melt again, see?” You said, grabbing one of the cups to take a sip, “I mean, it’s not as hot anymore, though, if you’re just tired of waiting.”

Upon saying that, Riki just stared at you for much longer than necessary, holding back a smile as his eyes glittered with amusement.

“W-what?” You asked, poking him on the shoulder which only made him laugh out loud this time.

“It’s the braid you did, isn’t it?,” you continued with a pout. He shook his head at your words, walking up to you and taking your face in one of his hands, swiping some moisture from your upper lip with his thumb before tasting it himself.

“You had a milk mustache, silly,” he smiled softly, eyes not leaving your lips as he licked his own, leaning in with a soft kiss.

Humming into the embrace, a smile creeped upon Riki's face as your hand found his neck, supporting yourself against the counter for him to only pull you closer.

“Riki~,” you mumbled while disconnecting your lips, “where’d all that come from?” you asked, still in a daze as you felt heat rush to your face.

He bit his lower lip, looking you up and down through hooded eyes as his hands rested on either side of the countertop, caging you in before his intimidating frame.

“Nowhere,” he smirked, pecking you one last time on the corner of your mouth before continuing, “your lips taste like hot cocoa and I just couldn’t resist.”

Playfully smacking your boyfriend’s chest, he released you from his arm cage, watching as you went back to the other counter, shaking marshmallows in both your mugs before sealing the bag closed.

He took so much delight in seeing how flustered you appeared now. You even fumbled with your fingers as you tried closing the bag all thanks to his actions.

“Are you sure you don’t want something cold to drink instead? You seem warm all of a sudden,” he teased, wiping the spilled remnants of sugary mix from the countertop with a napkin.

“Do I? Maybe it’s because you keep looking at me like this,” you teased back, dramatically reenacting the way he looked at you earlier, biting your lip to seal the deal.

He laughed with his entire body, leaning over the counter as soft giggles rumbled from his body. But then, his cocky side returned.

“Is that the only thing I did that got you flustered, or is there more?” He asked, voice deepening slightly as his piercing gaze scanned you once again.

“Hmm… well… you also touched me like this,” you said, cupping his face in your hands, “and then I nearly fainted when you kissed me like there was no tomorrow!”

“No tomorrow, huh? That sounds romantic,” he smirked, trying to mask how giddy you were making him feel in this moment even though the pink hue staining his cheeks and ears made it impossible to hide.

“That’s because it was romantic, Riki,” you smiled lovingly, kissing your finger and placing it on his rosy nose before walking back to the living room, warm mugs in both your hands as you returned to your seats on the cozy couch.

The same place you knew Riki would eventually start to kiss you again the moment you sat your cup down.

❆ Thank you for reading this quick little fic, and special thanks to my bbygirl for requesting this !!

❆ Feel free to check out more cute and fun reads like this at the pinned post on my blog :3

❆ Taglist: @squoxle @ashgonedash @nikisdubblchococake @yourmomscuntis2tighy @watamotee33 @noodlesimp @microwvdstrawb3rri3s @star-yawnznn

288 notes · View notes

vicsnook · 5 months

Text

Tis the Damn Season | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

word count: 1318

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI, 18+

notes: Hey y’all! I know its been a while, I’ve been dealing with a huge writers block but had this little idea while on the plane. Please forgive any errors, I didn’t read it back before posting it. Happy Holidays!

With your dad sick this Christmas it’s not surprising your mom would asked you to come home. So here you were, pulling into the familiar driveway taking notice of the Bronco parked in your neighbors yard, one you knew all too well.

A note taped to the refrigerator reminded you your parents would be back from the hospital tomorrow. Maybe a drink could make the night better you thought but the liquor cabinet was of course empty and the town doesn’t sell alcohol on Sundays. So that’s how you ended up walking through the doors of the only bar in town.

“Is that who I think it is?” Bradley Bradshaw hollered from behind the bar as you made your way to him. His hair was definitely a little longer and he sported the mustache he joked about growing all through high school. The years had been if anything, very kind to him.

“Hey Rooster, I didn’t know you worked here.” You said, taking a seat across from him, truth is if you’d known, you would’ve never come here. “I’m just helping Ronnie out ‘til my leave is over. Want your usual?” He asked, offering you a half-smile while his dark brown eyes burned into yours. “Sur- Sure,” you managed to stammer out. Memories of the last time you were here flooding back in as you watched him prepare your drink.

“So, you here for long?” He asked between customers and while you know he’s just trying to not make things awkward, you can’t help the knot forming in your throat. “Just for the week.”

“Bradley! Over here honey! More shots!” shouted a blonde from the other side of the bar before he could reply and you sighed gratefully for the distraction. Setting down the cash for your tab and booking it out the bar while he went to her table.

Your hands were shaky as you pried open the car handle and tried to start the car. This was a bad idea you muttered to yourself over as you turned the key. The radio announced a snowstorm tonight and as if on cue your mother called to say they wouldn’t be able to come home ‘til the roads cleared.

—

Waking up freezing in your childhood bedroom was definitely not great. Power had gone out due to the storm and you had no wood for the fireplace. Dreadfully, you made your way to your neighbors to see if they had any to spare. Regretting not putting on another jacket and better shoes. You eyed the bronco that was almost fully covered by snow while waiting on someone to open the door.

“Y/N?” Murmured a confused looking Bradley. You wondered how he could be shirtless and just in sweats in this cold weather.

“Hey, sorry to bother, power’s out and we have no wood for the fireplace.” You said through your chattering teeth. “Let’s talk inside,” he replied, ushering you inside the candle lit living room.

The room looked just as it did 3 years ago when you broke off your engagement to Bradley. He was dead set on joining the Navy and refused to hear yours and Carole’s pleas to not follow in his fathers footsteps. “Mom doesn’t have any extra wood. You can stay, though, not sure when power will be back.” Said Bradley as he came back from the back porch where Maverick stocked wood for Carole every winter.

“Thank you, so how’s everything?” You said, taking a seat on the couch. Silently praying the power would come back on. “Great, just working all the time. I graduated from Top Gun a few months ago.” His eyes bore deep into your as he mentioned Top Gun. You’d had nightmares about him being in the Academy since Carole told you.

“Oh um, that's great. I’m sure your dad would be really proud.” You regretted the words as soon as they left your mouth. Bradley’s face reddened with what you could only assume was anger.

“Don’t you dare say that Y/N, not after you and mom tried to use what happened to him to change my mind.” He hissed, sending shivers down your spine. Bradley was never quick to anger unless his dad was brought up. “I’m -I’m so sorry Bradley, I didn’t mean to upset you. I should go.” You stammered, getting up and rushing for the front door.

“Wait,” He grabbed hold of your hand before you made it into the foyer, Spinning you around and onto his chest. Being this close to him again had your heart nearly beating out of your chest. “I’m sorry, I know you didn’t mean any harm. It’s just Mav tried to pull my papers and I almost didn’t even get to go to the Academy.” He muttered, you could smell the mint in his breath from how close his face was to yours. He placed a lock of your hair behind your ear, making the words catch in your throat. “I’ve missed you, Y/N.”

Those brown eyes that you’ve missed for 3 years now were staring intently into yours, waiting for an answer. Before you knew it, you were pulling his face down to yours and kissing the warmest lips you’ve ever known.

Your hands explored his unclothed torso as the kiss intensified and he pulled off your jacket. “I’ve missed you too,” you whispered in between kisses.

He pulled your pajama shirt off and slowly guided you back into the living room. Setting you down carefully on the couch. Your hands tugged his sweatpants down and you were grateful for his lack of underwear. Taking his hard cock into your hands and pumping it. “S-Slow down honey,” he moaned into your ear. He pulled your pajama shirt off as you shimmied off your pants. “Red? Merry Christmas to me.” He muttered, pulling down your red panties that you had a hunch you would not get to keep.

“I need you,” You moaned in his ear as he toyed with your clit. He slid the head of his cock between your folds, slowly pushing it in. You threw your head back in pleasure, no one else felt as good as him.

Your nails dug into his back as he picked up the pace and kissed your neck. Leaving a trail of hickeys that you’d definitely have to cover up tomorrow. “You feel so good baby,” he moaned, playing with your clit and increasing the pace of his thrusts.

Feeling your orgasm getting closer you grabbed on to his biceps, trying to help increase his pace. He knew so well what you wanted as he thrusted harder and faster into you now. You moved his thumb from your clit and took over, trying to reach that high you desperately needed. “Cum for me babygirl,” He whispered, watching as you came undone under him. Your legs trembling as his thrusts became sloppier and his release followed soon after inside you.

Bradley stood up once he had caught his breath, offering you a hand to help you clean up. His cum running down your legs as you hurried behind him in the candle lit house. He ran a bath and climbed in, motioning for you to get in with him.

He kissed your back as he scrubbed you gently with the sponge. You loved the comfortable silence that had fallen between you both as he finished scrubbing you. Regret was starting to seep into your mind about leaving him, knowing the heart you broke was your own.

“I miss you Y/N, I know I can’t ask you to wait and you can’t ask me to stay but can we at least have this week?” He asked quietly, your heart aching at his request. “Of course,” you whispered back in response, knowing how hard it’d be at the end of the week to leave the warmest bed you’d ever known.

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

149 notes · View notes

blitheringbongus · 4 months

Text

In which Scar knows he’s in love

In which Scar falls asleep at a Boatem party, and the morning after.

Or: Scars down bad for Mumbo and doesn’t know how to deal with it

Warnings: mentioned alcohol, hangover, headaches, mentioned dying (in Minecraft, where you respawn, nothing painful), mentioned toxic masculinity (only one line, not too severe)

Scar watched the two red lights dance in his blurry vision as they moved in a slow and rythmatic manner. He smiled up at them, they were so pretty, and he felt so heavy. The darkness around his eyes crept closer until he couldn’t see any more. Distant muffled music closed to an end, and he breathed. He could see his breath, cold and unwavering, though fading back into the darkness. He blinked, and god, did he feel that blink. His eyes felt cold and dry. He looked around. Darkness, everywhere. But then, a looming light, overhead, holding that same crimson he saw as he passed out. He watched it with amazement, it didn’t scare him, it comforted him.

He smelled motor oil and pinecones and warmth. He smelled electricity and melted wax and happiness.

And he didn’t smell that familiar cold. He felt warm.

His eyes warmed up, and they weren’t dry anymore, they weren’t freezing. They felt nice, they felt normal.

He looked down and he was fully dressed. He looked beside himself and there were stars. Beautiful, blinking, stars. Were they eyes?

He moved his head to the side, and his face touched something soft. It smelled stronger of that wonderful smell than his surroundings, and so he buried his nose in it, and breathed. And his breath wasn’t to be seen.

—

„Is he smelling you?“ Impulse laughed and pointed at the man, face shoved deep in the neck of his fellow hermit Mumbo. The fellow hermit, in response, laughed nervously with Impulse, and said, „he must be dreaming of smelling pies- like in those old cartoons! You know when they float-„

Grian chuckled and agreed, setting his drink down on the stone floor of The Boatem Hole, „We should prank him,“ he smiled.

Pearl lightly punched his shoulder, „I was just about to get me markers and cream,“ Grian snickered mischievously. „Maybe a mustache, like our CEO‘s?“

They collectively agreed.

—

Maybe it wasn’t the smartest idea to get drunk in The Boatem Hole. A hole that went beneath Bedrock, falling in which would result in certain death in the void, earning that yucky staticy feeling. But the Boatem crew loved that hole, so they had all their meetings there. Including parties. It was really, really stupid. But it was fun.

Many deaths occured that night. Nothing the crew couldn’t handle, though.

The following morning, Scar would awaken in his own bed, it was warm and it was comfortable. It would be more comfortable if he hadn’t had that headache, he realized as a pang of pain shot through his head.

Scar sat up, and dragged his hand over his face, trying to wake himself up a bit.

He blinked slowly, something felt absent. What felt absent? He looked around. There was a glass of water and some pills on the side of his bed, huh. He usually wasn’t that prepared- someone must’ve put it there… maybe Jellie?

He washed a pill down with the water, and groggily got up. He was in his clothes from the day before, minus his Jacket, shoes and corset. Hey, when’d he take his vest off?

He blinked slowly, and noticed his missing clothes folded neatly on the ‚couch‘ in his room. The builder scratched his head. His mouth tasted disgusting, he should brush his teeth.

He sighed, and he sauntered to the bathroom.

It looked fairly normal, unchanged. He stepped infront of the mirror and reached for his toothbrush, putting paste on it, wetting it up, reaching it towards his mouth, looking up, and stopping-

He nearly dropped his toothbrush as he exhaled a quiet laugh. His face was scribbled all over! He started brushing his teeth, and observed his general appearance. He has a quite dashing mustache drawn on his upper lip, long and curled at the end. ‚Almost like Mumbos‘ he thought, but he knew, nothing could match the mustacheness of Mumbos mustache. A drawn monocle adorned his face, although that one looked less dashing, and more crude. Definitely Grian. He had whiskers drawn on his face in squiggly lines, Pearl, and a shaky heart on his jaw, Impulse. Now where did Cub draw? Was he even at the party? Scar wasnt even sure if Cub was a part of Boatem.

His hair was a disaster, to put it lightly. Hairstrands were sticking up and to the side in places they shouldn’t and those were. Quite a few knots. That’s going to be hell to comb. What happened last night?

His suspenders were down, hanging against the sides of his thighs. His shirt was partially unbuttoned, and his sleeves, well, one sleeve was rolled up, and one sleeve wasn’t. Both were unbuttoned.

He definitely had to shower.

He spit the toothpaste into the sink and washed his mouth and toothbrush respectively.

Scar stretched with a wince as he heard his neck and back pop.

After his well needed shower, and getting dressed, Scar grabbed some food and exited his wagon, wincing at the sunlight. Grumbling over the sun, and the fact that he was unable to scrub the marker off, he merely smudged it, he ate and searched for Grian, making a beeline towards the mans house.

He knocked on the mans door and waited barely two seconds before opening it, entering the pesky birds home. „I know what you did, Gri!“ he called into the home, and he heard a muffled noise coming from Grians bedroom.

He went up the stairs, and he knocked on Grians door, and he opened it, finding Grian still half asleep in his bed, wearing the same clothes as yesterday like Scar did when he woke up. His fellow builder emidded whiny noises, „shhhsjihs quietttt Scarrr“ he drew out, burying his face in his pillow and lifting the sides of it to cover his ears.

„What happened last night?“ Scar asked simply, he only remembers the smell of melted wax and warmth, among other things, but he couldn’t seem to remember anything else, only blurry images, none of which he could yet identify. How wasted did he get?

Grian responded with a snore, and Scar knew he was asleep, so he left the mans home. He’ll prank him for this later, he’ll prank all of them! He shook his fist at the angry sun, and he audibly whined at the bright beams of it.

Who’s next on his list.. he looked around, either Impulse or Pearl or Mumbo. Who would be awake at this time? Both Impulse and Mumbo were early risers, but Scar genuinely had no clue where Impulses living quarters were in that huge base of his. And so, he chose Mumbo.

He made his way towards Treesa, and he weakly climbed her vines, and he fell, and he groaned, and he climbed again.

Now inside the mustached mans base, he blinked his eyes a few times, and he smelled pinecone, and he smelled motor oil.

He inhaled the scent, and the light was just right in Treesa. He moved the vines to cover up the makeshift doorway, and he sauntered to search for Mumbo.

He found him fairly easily, he was still sleeping in bed, in his van, it seemed. What time was it? How come Scar awoke before Mumbo or seemingly Impulse? He shrugged, and he leaned down to get a better look at Mumbo, the only hermit he’s seen today covered by a blanket whilst sleeping. He looked peaceful, and the smell of electricity and warmth strengthened.

He kneeled, and he gently shook the mans shoulder, and Mumbo huffed, and Mumbo rolled over.

Scar couldn’t help but smile.

He leaned over and onto the bed partially, his torso hovering over it, and he shook the mans shoulder again. „Pssst, Mumbooo wakey wakey eggs and bakey, dude!“ he almost whispered.

He’s more gentle with Mumbo than with Grian, he knows why, but he won’t admit it to himself. He knows why he looks at him differently than the other Boatem members, he knows why he wants to learn every last detail of the man, he knows why every touch they share feels electric to him, he knows why he dreams of him, and he knows why-

Scar was pulled out of his thoughts by the noise of Mumbo groaning. The redstoner blinked his eyes open slowly, looking up and above at the builder looming over him.

His eyes were half lidded and glossy, his usually neat dark hair was messy and curled.

„Scar?“ Mumbo muttered out, muffled by the blanket covering the underside of his face. He tugged the blanket away from it slowly, going below his neck.

Suddenly, Scar forgot all about why he went to wake Mumbo up, he just looked down at him and felt that tug in his chest again.

He was so pretty.

Could a man be considered pretty? Could a man be considered beautiful? Scar grew up being taught those terms were rude to refer a man to, but those were also the only words Scar found himself being able to describe the man below him. He was pretty and he was beautiful and oh gods he was in love.

„Scar?“ Mumbo tilted his head, tired and confused, and Scar wanted to kiss him. He’d never.

The builder blinked a few times before his brain started working again. „Hm? Oh, right! Mumbo! Do you have any idea what happened last night? Because my brain completely blanked yesterday,“

Mumbo reached up to rub his own eyes, leaning up a bit on his elbows, which made Scar lean back a bit, they were so close.. „Well you fell asleep, and so we decided to draw on your face, I figure you’ve already made out that part?“ he said in a soft voice, it was almost faint, the man was still waking up. Scar wanted to hear his voice like that every morning.

Scar chuckled, „yes, yes. I’ve made out that much, but what else? I honestly barely remember anything!“ „well what do you remember?“ Mumbo sat up more, not having to lean on his elbows anymore, and Scar leaned back further, opting to instead get up and sit on the mans bed. „Mh..“ Scar looked at Mumbo in thought. „Well, I remember that at some point we played duck duck goose?“ „Oh that was before we even touched any alcohol, how quickly are you able to get black out drunk-„

Mumbo looked at the man with bewilderment in his eyes, but he still looked tired. „I’m a lightweight,“ he simply answered. „Hey, how about we talk about this when you’re more awake, hm?“ Scar put a hand on Mumbos shoulder and guided him to lay down again, Mumbo complied.

The tired redstoner made an agreeing noise, and slowly moved himself so he’s laying on his side, curled up and quickly slipping back into dreamland.

Scar watched, and Scar wanted to stay. Was he allowed to? The sight of his fellow hermit falling asleep so quickly and so easily made him tired all the same. He could lay with him, for a bit. He’d get up and leave before Mumbo does. He yawned, and he laid down gently beside the man, watching the back of his head. He rarely sees the mans hair ungeeled, it looked so soft. He wanted to touch it, he wanted to touch him, he didn’t.

He laid his hands folded underneath his head, and closed his eyes, smelling motor oil and pinecones and warmth, smelling electricity and melted wax and happiness.

And he fell asleep, and he was happy.

133 notes · View notes

hotgirlmav · 2 years

Text

Cyrano — Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Female!Reader (18+)

Description: PART 2 OF PARTING GIFT! One night stands were never truly your thing. After passing your college midterms and celebrating at a bar, though, a one night stand ended up being just what you wanted. You picked the hottest naval aviator in the whole building and soon learned that he wanted you just as badly as you wanted him. He was set to deploy the next day, and you just wanted a cheap fix. What better way to ruin the convenience of a one night stand than him getting you pregnant?

Warnings: Explicit language, sexual undertones, abundance of angst, depictions of anxiety, vomit, alcohol, pregnancy, mentions of abortion, brief arguing, mentions of death, bits of fluff, Maverick and Iceman mention because I am WEAK.

Word Count: 4,684.

A/N: IGNORE THE FACT THAT I SAID I WOULD POST THIS LAST NIGHT, I TOOK A NAP THAT TURNED INTO ME SLEEPING FOR FIVE HOURS 😭 I also just wanted to take a quick second to thank you all for the response I received on the first part. The amount of comments, reblogs, and messages I got was just absolutely insane. You all genuinely make writing worth it. You have my heart.

Requests are still open!

From the very moment his words went through the phone and to your ear, you were in a state of panic.

Though it had only been a few days since he told you that he was coming, the thought of Rooster’s arrival left a deep wound right in the center of your chest. Fear had been your closest companion ever since you found out about your pregnancy, and over the past number of days, the dreaded nuisance of the emotion refused to part from you. You woke up with it at your bedside, you traveled with it throughout the day, and despite your attempts being to no prevail, you tried to make your peace with it at night.

While currently standing in front of the mirror in your bedroom, every emotion you had felt since you found out about your pregnancy was amplified.

Fear. Guilt. Sympathy for the baby inside of you. Slight excitement. You knew the situation wasn’t exactly ideal, but you refused to not be at least a little excited over what would end up being your child. You refused to let your baby suffer for what you believed to be your recklessness.

Only thirty minutes prior to your silent session in front of your own reflection, Rooster had informed you that he was quite ready to come get you for dinner. You had no idea as to whether he was very far from your house, very close to it, or even if he remembered where it was. In all fairness, he had only been there once.

Almost like he waited for you to doubt him, the sound of a knock outside the door pierced your ears in a way that might as well have been an explosion. You visibly flinched at the faint sound of his knuckles briefly hitting your front door and cleared your throat, trying to suppress the nausea you felt induced both by your baby and by the father. How fitting.

“Just one second!” You found yourself calling out to him, frantically looking around your bedroom. You rushed out to the living room and began to toss everything around in a way that would make it seem just a bit neater, pure panic coursing through your veins.

It took about a minute more until you raced to the door and sharply inhaled through your mouth, practically holding your breath once you opened the door.

Your heart completely stopped at the sight of him. Tanned, sun-kissed skin practically illuminating under the light provided by the sunset, hair so sandy yet golden. His mustache was very neatly trimmed in a way that told you he must have spent quite a few minutes on it, and for that, you fought the urge to grin.

His hazel eyes scanned you as his full lips curled into a cheeky smile, just before he furrowed his eyebrows. His large hand gripped the doorframe as he met your eyes with his own for a moment, then broke the intense eye contact just a second later, leaning his head inside of the doorway. Due to the fact that he was quite a bit taller than you, it was easy for him to do so.

His eyes scanned the now tidy living room, answering his internal question as to just what took you so long to open the door. The man was still essentially towering over you as he turned his head back to your face, gazing right down at you with furrowed eyebrows.

“You didn’t tidy up this well when I railed you.” He remarked in a way that made you let out a small gasp, earning a genuine chuckle from him when you swatted at his chest. Strangely enough, all of your panic evaporated into thin air once he spoke.

“Since you don’t appreciate my efforts, I shouldn’t have cleaned up at all. I should have made even more of a mess.” You teased him in a light tone, your lips already curling into a grin. With how good he looked, you refused to even try to fight it.

Rooster inhaled sharply, turning his head away from you as his face twisted in playful disappointment.

“Damn, and to think that I made a reservation for us.” He jokingly scoffed, shaking his head. He couldn’t even fight the smile on his face.

Your grin was playfully mischievous. You raised one eyebrow before you sharply inhaled as if to mimic the way he did before, pursing your lips slightly.

“Take one of your other girls. This ship,” you began in a light, yet firm tone as you used your index finger to point back and forth between the pair of you. “Has sailed.”

Rooster let out a chuckle that made your knees want to buckle, further proving to you just how easy it must have been for him to get you into bed that night. What he said next, though, that took the cake.

“I don’t want the other girls. I came here for you.” He told you so matter-of-factly, his tone reeking of casualness as he lifted his hand and momentarily stroked your cheek with his thumb.

From the way you couldn’t even fight the immediate beam that appeared on your face, Rooster let out a soft chuckle that came from deep within his chest. Your eyes rolled as your grin and your shyly flattered expression betrayed you, staring up at him through your eyelashes. You opened your mouth to jokingly insult him, but as your eyes landed on his face, you immediately found yourself stuck. At that moment, everything hit you like a ton of bricks.

The man in front of you was the father of your child.

You had only been considering his part in your pregnancy in a vague, common way, but everything was coming together in the most overwhelming way possible. Even if Rooster decided to have no part in your pregnancy and in the child’s life, your baby was permanently going to be partially made up of the man before you.

Noticing the way you fell silent, Rooster took the opportunity to take your smaller hand in his own, standing up straight. His grin remained intact on his beautiful face, blissfully unaware as to why you just fell silent.

“I will go fully fucking insane if they offer our table to someone else.” He casually chuckled under his breath as he motioned for you to come out, earning a small giggle from you as you did just that. Seeing as you had already been holding your purse, all you needed to do was lock the door.

After doing so, he led you to the quite beautiful Bronco, causing your lips to curl into a grin. You knew it was an older model, but it was taken care of as if it was brand new.

The car ride there went by smoothly. A few jokes were exchanged, your hand was being held, and the heightened part of your libido that came with pregnancy was really kicking your ass. You couldn’t look at the man for more than two seconds without shifting in your seat, causing you to look out of the window almost the entire time.

By the time you two had arrived, your table was perfectly ready for the pair of you. You silently thanked your lucky stars, as you just didn’t need him being even slightly cranky when you informed him of the parting gift he left you just two months prior.

You two sat down with ease and ordered soon after, but that wasn’t without any minor complications.

“Oh, no wine for me, please.” You quickly added once you heard Rooster order a bottle, earning a confused expression from the man. Even with the way your heart was skipping a beat, you still couldn’t bring yourself to make eye contact with him. His furrowed eyebrows and his broad shoulders under his open Hawaiian shirt just made you excited, and that was not an issue you wanted to deal with.

“Cramps.” You quickly excused yourself to aid his confusion, earning a look of understanding and a nod. Silently, you thanked yourself for the fact that Rooster was just another brainless man. You had to both love him and hate him for it.

Once you ordered your drink of choice and the server left, you tilted your head and sat back in your seat. You watched him sip the complimentary water that was given to you both, causing you to press your legs together under the table. You knew that if you didn’t break the silence, you’d just pounce on him.

“Are you going to tell me your name, or am I going to keep having to call you Rooster?” You questioned in a light tone, your lips curling into a soft smile as he chuckled at your question.

“It’s Bradley. Bradley Bradshaw, Rooster is my callsign.” He informed you in a low tone, raising his eyebrows slightly as you began to rub his leg with your own under the table.

“Wait.” You immediately stopped, furrowing your eyebrows. “Bradley Bradshaw…? Brad Brad?”

Seeing that you were fighting the urge to laugh, the man couldn’t even resist a chuckle of his own and shot you a warning glare. “Don’t even start.”

You let a soft giggle escape your lips as you gazed over at him mindlessly, tilting your head. It was almost as if you completely forgot what you had to tell him.

“You don’t even know my name.” You told him with a playful huff, immediately reaching for the complimentary bread that was just begging to be eaten.

“Sure I do.” He responded, reaching for a piece of the bread at the exact same time.

“Yeah?” You challenged him with an amused expression. “What is it?”

Like clockwork, there was a cheeky little grin on his face as he popped a piece of the bread into his mouth. His eyebrows furrowed as a way to fake concern for you. “Why, you don’t know your own name?”

You couldn’t help but let out a genuine laugh at his response, shaking your head as his chuckle matched your own. “Asshole.”

After a few moments, your food arrived, and your thoughts began to remind you of just what was going on.

You were pregnant. Waiting any longer to tell the man wouldn’t have made any sense. He was sitting right in front of you, and God only knew when the next time that would happen would be.

Your eyes glossed over the man as he shoveled bites of food into his mouth, your head tilting to the side as your eyes furrowed slightly. Not even noticing the fact that your eyes were glued to his face, he spoke in between bites.

“I haven’t eaten since I landed. Don’t mind me eating this like I'm scared of it walking away.” He casually remarked, his lips curling into a grin as he wiped them with his napkin once he heard the sound of your light giggle.

It was no wonder why you even brought him home to begin with. He was charming, he was witty, he was funny, he was insanely attractive; Rooster truly was a million dollar man with the smile to match. Though it would just pain you to admit it, in the deepest recesses of your heart, you were glad that he was the partner you were given in such a tricky situation.

“No, no, don’t worry.” You attempted to reassure him, silently hoping that his remark wasn’t made out of any discomfort. “I’m just admiring you.”

Had the lighting in there not been so dim, you would have realized just how shyly Rooster grinned at your words. His body was slightly tense from the light form of flattery that you bestowed on him, proving to him that he truly did like you. Something about you just seemed so— different. So special.

Dinner went by smoothly. An incessant amount of flirting took place at that table, fueling your devious little crush on him. Had you not been haunted by the fact that you were carrying his baby and he was still yet to know, you wouldn’t have even considered not taking him home with you.

You two were just absolutely smitten with each other.

The ride home, though, was absolutely painful. Your chest felt very tight from the fact that you still hadn’t told him, and the warmth from his hand on your thigh could only hold you over for so long. Before you knew it, you were home. The opportunity was slipping through your fingertips.

The car came to a halt in front of your house, both relief and guilt washing over your body as it did so. Though you truly did come to love the feeling of being with Rooster, you missed a warmth from your home that even the sun could not provide. Had you not felt guilty about the fact that you still hadn’t told Rooster about the fact that you were about to be the mother of his child, being right outside of it would have drowned you in pure euphoria.

You wanted to scream. You wanted to throw the words over at him like a game of catch, but for the most aggravating reason in the world, you couldn’t. Your hand was finding its way to the door handle, despite the fact that you were silently screaming at yourself to spit it out.

Almost like he could hear you, you felt a large, warm hand gently grip yours before he pulled you over. Luckily, you had just taken your seatbelt off, so there would have been nothing to restrain you when you leaned over per his physical request.

Before you knew it, the warmest and most perfect pair of lips were pressed to yours, causing your heart to just melt inside of your chest. You lifted one of your hands and slowly pushed your fingers into his sandy blonde hair as his lips danced with yours, your eyes threatening to fill with tears. You just couldn’t fathom that being the last time you kissed him. That very well could have been the last good moment you two shared as people who liked one another, and not just as co-parents.

“What’s the matter, pretty girl?” He quietly asked with a playful grin once he detached his lips from yours, the volume of his voice mirroring the way it sounded the morning you last saw him. His long fingers were now gently massaging the very back of your scalp, your eyebrows furrowing at just how good it felt. He let out a small chuckle at your expression and pressed yet another peck to the very corner of your lips, small strands of hair from his mustache slightly tickling your skin. “Thought I’d just let you leave without giving me a kiss?”

Just like that, you felt a bolt of electricity shoot throughout your body. People all around the world walked across hot coals, went skydiving, and rode rollercoasters to replicate the adrenaline that just consumed you. For you, all it took was a small kiss from Rooster.

“Bradley, I’m pregnant.”

Silence. Pure silence.

The second the words hit the air, some might as well have dropped a bomb in the middle of the street. You wasted no time in retracting back to the passenger seat, studying the look of shock and confusion on his face.

“I know it’s confusing, I know you’re shocked. Trust me, I wasn’t exactly relieved and jumping for joy when I found out. I guess we were just too drunk to use protection, but—”

“It’s mine?” He cut you off in complete and utter surprise, his face looking awfully pale. Suddenly, your body was filled to the brim with rage.

“Who the fuck else’s would it be?” You couldn’t help but scoff, your eyebrows furrowing. You couldn’t stand the look of shock on his face. Being shocked about the baby, you understood, but being shocked that it was his? That is how he thought of you?

Rooster clearly did not enjoy your tone. He shot you a small glare as your sudden aggression filled the air, taking his keys out of the ignition. “Don’t do that. Don’t give me attitude; I have every damn right to be surprised.”

As much as you wanted to argue back, you knew that he was right. He truly did have every excuse to be surprised. Seeing as you essentially collapsed upon finding out, he was taking the news much better than you did.

“Why don’t you come inside?” You asked him in a very soft tone, earning another glance from him that made you want to implode. “I can make tea and we can talk about it.”

The silence that filled the air was deafening. At that moment, you just wanted to be completely sucked into the ground. You didn’t know if he was just going to shun you and send you on your merry way, but whatever it was, you wished he would just speak.

Very suddenly, he took his own seatbelt off and opened the door, getting out of the car. Before you could even think to open your own, he did it for you.

Even in his state of shock, he was a gentleman.

You pressed your lips together as if you were scared of what would come out if you didn’t. Your heart was pounding out of your chest as you offered him a small form of gratitude for helping you out of the car, quickly retrieving the key to your house from your purse. The sound of crickets filled the night, and the scent in the air signified that it would rain soon. You usually loved smelling it when the rain was on its way, but at that moment, you felt smothered by it.

After unlocking your door with your key, you stepped inside and immediately rid yourself of your shoes, not being able to suppress the small grunt of relief when your feet were free. You were only two months along in your pregnancy, but the small heels you wore to pair with your black dress made you want to chop your feet clean off.

You tossed your keys into the bowl you had tastefully placed on an end table next to the door, rubbing your own shoulder as you heard the sound of Rooster closing and locking the door. He took his time in removing his boots, figuring you taking your shoes off was just a house rule. Had you had just a moment to recognize what he did, you would have sobbed about how sweet he was and begun to unzip his jeans.

“Which kind of tea would you like?” You asked in a soft tone as you made your way to your kitchen, feeling the presence of the aviator behind you.

“Whatever you have is fine.” He told you in a way that was not exactly cold, but certainly not warm. Regardless of that, you opened one of the cabinets and took a small box outside of it, setting it on the countertop. Once you turned to fill the kettle with water, you furrowed your eyebrows at the fact that it was missing from the stove eye it usually rested on.

Your head turned once the sound of running water hit your ears, and your lips parted at the sight.

While you were getting the box full of teabags, Rooster took it upon himself to prepare the kettle.

You didn’t have to ask, you didn't request that of him. Hell, you didn’t even expect it from him. To be quite technical, you served no greater significance to him than a woman whom he had a one-night-stand with.

Well— aside from the fact that you were about to be the mother of his children, but still.

In your house, doing his part in an action that you offered to perform, he assisted you in making tea. He wanted to. He wasn’t asked to, nor was he forced. He just— wanted to.

You knew the action was minuscule, and you knew that taking it as seriously as you were was foolish. You knew that the way tears began to fill your eyes was a bit extreme, but you were hormonal, goddamn it. In your pregnant mind, this was quite literally the nicest thing anyone had ever done for you in your entire life.

The symbolism of it all was what made you ache like no other. After spending what felt like ages in complete and utter fear of how Rooster would react to your pregnancy, the small action of preparing the kettle washed it all away like a wave crashing onto the shore. You were almost certain that the man would run out on you, or that he would simply refuse to take responsibility for his part in the situation. You knew it was wrong to assume that about a man you hardly knew, but you couldn’t refrain from fearing the worst.

The second you saw him with that kettle, though, everything changed.

He showed up for you. He was there for you, and you didn’t even have to ask him to be. Deep down, you wanted to laugh at yourself for making something as simple as filling a kettle with water and putting it on the stove into such a profound sentiment. Despite wanting to do so, you could not bring yourself to it. Just from the way he was there for you in the moment, you knew he would be there for you in the long haul.

Both of you.

“My dad died when I was still pretty young.” He broke the silence as he placed the kettle back onto the stove eye, turning it onto a high setting after doing so. He didn’t dare to look you in the eye. He refused to let you see the pain in his, and he was petrified of seeing whatever was in yours.

Your face fell at his abrupt confession, your heart now twisting in guilt as you blurted out the first thing you thought. “How old were you?”

“Two.” He responded almost immediately, his hands resting on the edges of the countertop as he leaned his head down slightly. From the way he was standing, his back looked incredibly broad, as did his shoulders. You knew the timing was awful, but the fact that you could see the slight curvature of his back muscles through his not-so-thin sweater made your mouth water. You were glad he wasn’t able to see the way you were devouring him with your eyes.

Immediately feeling guilty for the way you were lusting over a grieving man, you deeply inhaled and decided to carry the discussion a bit further. You knew that him bringing up such a topic was to slightly cover the topic of how little he knew about fatherhood, so you decided to push. “Did you have a father figure?”

“I guess, yeah.” He responded in a low tone, clearing his throat as he stood up straight. Practically feeling Carole scold him for his impoliteness, he finally turned his body to face you and leaned back against the counter very slightly. “My Uncle Tom was around as much as he could be. It was mainly my Uncle P—”

He fell silent rather abruptly, causing you to furrow your eyebrows. Before you could question it, he finished the sentence that formerly hung in the air. “Maverick. My dad’s old friend, he was flying when my dad died.”

Your eyebrows raised at his last statement. His words seemed to hold quite a bit of weight, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t curious as to why that was. You knew that pushing the topic even further would result in something neither of you would like. “And your mother?”

“Died two years ago.” He responded to you in a cool, casual tone. The fact that you brought her up after she had just crossed his mind was too ironic for him to laugh at it.

Immediately, the corners of your lips curved downward into a frown. Despite his collected posterior, you knew that the man in front of you was nothing short of haunted. With two deceased parents and an estranged uncle that formerly served as a father figure, Bradley harbored emotional trauma that would make even the strongest people wince. No one deserved that. Least of all, him.

At least he had an Uncle Tom, though, right? He seemed nice. Everyone loves Uncle Tom.

You took a deep breath as you found yourself shuffling over to the taller pilot, his gaze now tiredly placed on yours. Both of you saw what the other was trying to hide. His pain, your fear; once they were formally acquainted with one another, they disappeared. Your arms snaked around his torso before you simply laid your head on his chest, your eyelids slowly falling shut.

The warmth from his body almost completely consumed you. Rooster wrapped both of his rather strong arms around you without so much as one word. The two of you stood in each other’s arms silently, both silently scared and comforted by the fact that only you two could understand what the other was going through. It was your first embrace not as just soon-to-be parents, but as two people who cared about one another. The baby that was growing in your belly essentially acted as a Cyrano, forcing and tricking you two to realize that you were meant to be more for one another than you formerly realized.

“I don’t know how I’ll do it.” You took it upon yourself to breathe the silence with a whisper, your eyes still closed as you listened to the melancholic sound of his heartbeat mixed with the faint sound of the kettle.

“We’ll just have to figure it out, I guess.” Rooster muttered lowly to you in a way that made your heart melt, crack, drop, and burst all at the same time.

You furrowed your eyebrows in pure awe of his words. You had never felt so held by someone in your life, both physically and metaphorically. You lifted your head from his chest and looked up at the man, your desperately relieved eyes meeting his. “We will?”

“I don’t know if you know this, but I don’t think we have a choice.” Rooster teased you in a way that made you let out such a warm giggle, the grin forming on his face turning such a scary moment into something of pure beauty.

“Thank you so much, Bradley.” You abruptly whispered to him, your eyes still wondrously peering into his as you did so. “Thank you for being this nice about all of this, I— I was so scared of how you’d react. I’ve been doing nothing but panicking since I found out.”

Your voice began to tremble midway through your sentence as the sheer horror and exhaustion that you had undergone since finding out began to flash throughout your mind. You couldn’t fight the tear that fell out of your eye as you spoke, and Rooster immediately took note of it.

Before he could do anything, however, the sound of the kettle whistling to indicate that it was ready startled both of you. The pair of you looked over at the same time before you let out a soft laugh at how it tore the moment to shreds, watching Rooster simply turn the stove off. He returned to his prior position and instantly wrapped his arms around you just as he did before, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head once you laid it on his chest again.

The words he whispered to you would be engrained in your memory for the rest of your life. Any time the trials and tribulations of motherhood threatened your peace and your sanity, his words came back to you like a moth to a flame, calming you down completely.

“You don’t need to panic, pretty girl. I’m here.”

Yes.

Yes, he was.

TAGS:

@rosiahills22 @mak-32 @ghxst-heart @gretagerwigsmuse @aurisnightmare @twsssmlmaa @alldaysdreamers @mushy-mushroom04 @castle-bookworms-world @lunamooncole @maggiedanikka @mattyskies @classyunknownlover @lovelyladymayyy @adhxmoony @astroponyo @londonbeachgirl @belledawnidk @hope-love-equality2 @je-suis-prest-rachel @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ebonyhogan24 @alana4610 @affabletimelady @double-j @mrsjaderogers @littlesoulintheuniverse @bluelicious

1K notes · View notes

nocturnest · 18 days

Note

Heya sweets❤️

Im always so shy when asking for request 👉🏻👈🏻

I have this story in my head where the reader is Tangerines and Lemons Handler. Lemon adores reader. She does everything for them. Always fun and making jokes. Tangerine and reader have a little hate/banter relationship, but both have unresolved feelings for eachother.

And after one near death assignment, reader has to bring out her nursing skills. Stop the bleeding, stitching them back up etc. But reader is so frustrated with the both of them especially Tan. Because she cares for them and obviously loves Tan. And by almost loosing Tangerine brakes her composure and all her feelings come out.

Maybe fluff, maybe some nsfw?

Do with this whatever you like☺️

Have a wonderful day 🥰🫶🏻

hello my lovely friend! so sorry this took a while but i wanted to make sure i did it right! what a wonderful prompt - i love this idea! please enjoy and feel free to continue sending requests! 🥰

You loved the boys - you really did. In fact, it was hard to imagine a time when they hadn't been a part of your life, a constant presence that grounded you and brought both joy and exasperation in equal measure.

For five years now, you had been their handler, guiding them through missions, patching them up when they were injured, and providing a steady anchor amidst the chaos that seemed to follow them wherever they went. What had once been a professional relationship had slowly evolved into something far deeper - and when it came to a certain British fruit with a mustache, you found yourself unable to stay away.

You liked Lemon for his eccentricities and knack for always being able to sense people's intentions. It was remarkable how spot-on he could be on missions. You suppose you could thank his obsession with Thomas the Tank Engine for that...

Lemon, with his eccentricities and uncanny ability to read people's intentions, was a constant source of amusement and admiration. You marveled at how spot-on he could be during missions, his insights often proving invaluable – a skill you jokingly attributed to his obsession with Thomas the Tank Engine.

Just the other day you had happily entertained one of Lemon's rants about Thomas and Friends over earpiece for a good fifteen minutes just to see how long it would take for Tangerine to lose it. And he did as soon as you and Lemon started having a serious debate about whether or not Tangerine was a Gordon, to which Tangerine did not take kindly to. He insisted he was not anything near close to "that arrogant bastard of a train."

You could hear the utter frustration and offense in his voice, his mutterings of various curses, and you imagined how he must have looked all riled up - to the point that all you wanted was to see his face at that very moment.

Lemon was so honestly sweet - always playful. He always asked you about your day and remembered the smallest things about you. He also knew exactly what to do to push Tangerine's buttons, which you couldn't help but find amusing. Beneath his quirks was a true heart of gold, for he never failed to coax a smile out of you, no matter how bleak the circumstance.

And Tangerine - well, he was Tangerine. He was complicated, to say the least, and you couldn't imagine him as being anything else. Since the beginning, there had been this tension between the two of you - at first, the two of you were at each other's throats - swapping insults and cursing at one other. Lemon may have had to intervene on more than one occasion to get the two of you to snap out of it.

Something, changed though - not significantly but enough for you to notice. You suspect it had something to do with a very long-ass conversation Lemon had with Tangerine after a taxing mission that nearly cost them their lives. When you had picked the both of them up, Tangerine and Lemon had their raincoats covered in blood. For someone who was so vocal, so uptight, Tangerine was positively silent after that mission. He didn't insult you back and barely responded with anything other than one-word utterances - it was unnerving, concerning even.

You didn't like it. You didn't like seeing Tangerine so solemn, so hopeless. You were driving the car in utter silence and at some point Lemon had fallen asleep, or so you thought... Tangerine was in the passenger's seat beside you with a blank stare - he wasn't even looking out the window. No, he just looked straight on at the empty road ahead.

He had a cut on his forehead and a split lip, dried blood stains running down the side of his face. Without looking down, he was taking his golden knuckle-dusters on and off. You had half of a mind to reach out and steady his trembling hands as you were driving, but you were afraid perhaps of how he might react. And yet, despite all of this, you thought he looked as beautiful as you had ever seen him.

You called his name, cautiously and quietly. He didn't respond. You tried once more and he didn't give any impression that he had heard you. You had to do something. Anything to get him out of this stupor. So, maybe when you thought Lemon wasn't listening and had fallen asleep in the back of the car, you had started going off on some tangent about having finally read some of the novels Tangerine kept on going on and on about.

You mentioned his favorites: Wuthering Heights, The Stranger, Fahrenheit 451... Because if there was anything you knew about Tangerine, it's that he was passionate about classics to the point that he even quoted and analyzed fucking Dostoveksy in the middle of a kill on multiple occasions. Maybe the fact that you and him were both quite the book nerds actually made him all the more attractive to you.

As you continued to ramble about the novels you had read that Tangerine was so passionate about, the air in the car grew thick with tension, the silence punctuated only by the steady hum of the engine.

You didn't dare look at him - part of you didn't really expect him to listen. So instead, you kept your gaze focused on the empty road ahead, hands gripping the steering wheel as you spoke.

"I finally got around to reading 'Fahrenheit 451, you know," you began, your voice soft and measured. "I have to say, I can see why you're so taken with it. It's simply written yet so applicable to modern society and the dangers of censorship. It truly makes one think about what it would mean to live in a world without literature."

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Tangerine's head turn ever so slightly in your direction, his brow furrowed as if he were trying to process your words.

Emboldened by this flicker of response, you continued. "And I hadn't read The Stranger in a good while but it resonated with me particularly deeply this second time, Camus' exploration of existentialism and the human condition...I was drawn into Meursault's detached perspective, his ability to confront the harsh realities of life with such unflinching clarity."

A soft exhale, barely audible, escaped Tangerine's lips, and you felt your heart quicken its pace. You were reaching him, slowly but surely, pulling him back from the depths of whatever darkness had consumed him.

"But I think my favorite, at least so far, has to be Wuthering Heights," you continued, a faint smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

"The way Brontë captures the rawness of human emotion, the intensity of love and loss – it's truly remarkable. And the relationship between Cathy and Heathcliff - it's passionate," you said, your voice trailing off as you hesitated, the words catching in your throat. You could feel Tangerine's gaze on you, intense and searching, waiting for you to continue.

"Cathy and Heathcliff," you began again, your voice soft and contemplative. "They're... they're bound together by something... something powerful and all-consuming. Their love is - it's turbulent, chaotic, but it's also - undeniable."

This time, Tangerine's reaction was unmistakable. He turned his head fully towards you, his eyes seeking out yours, and in that moment, the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you. His eyes were filled with an indescribable emotion and his whole focus was on you. You met his eyes only to avoid them.

"You read them," he murmured, his voice rough and laced with a hint of disbelief.

You nodded, finally allowing yourself to meet his gaze. "Of course I did," you replied, your tone gentle. "They're important to you, and I wanted to understand why."

Tangerine's eyes remained locked with yours, his gaze penetrating and unreadable. For a moment, he simply stared, seemingly struggling with the words that threatened to spill forth.

Finally, he spoke, Tangerine's tone measured but with the barest hint of softness bleeding through. "I didn't think you'd actually read them," he admitted, a crease forming between his brows. "Those books...they're important to me. More than just words on a page."

Tangerine turned away, his eyes focusing on some distant point beyond the windshield. You could see the muscle in his jaw tighten as he clenched his teeth. "I'm surprised you understood them so well," he murmured, the words seeming almost painful for him to voice.

There was a brief silence before Tangerine continued. "I've always had...difficulty...letting people in. Connecting on that deeper level." His fingers drummed against the door restlessly. "But you - you saw right through to the heart of those stories. You truly understood it."

Another pause, this one longer, more weighted. When Tangerine finally spoke again, his words were clipped, guarded - as if he were struggling to maintain that protective wall he'd carefully constructed around himself.

"Don't read too much into it though," he muttered gruffly, shifting in his seat. "They're just books in the end. It doesn't mean anything."

But his eyes told a different story as they flickered back towards you, full of unspoken longing and vulnerability he was so desperately trying to conceal. Your fingers on the steering wheel twitched, practically begging to reach to him, to take his hands in yours, to tell him that you understood. That he didn't have to keep up this facade around you.

For a fleeting second, you saw a glimpse of the real Tangerine - the one who lived and breathed those books, whose soul resonated with the turbulent depths of Heathcliff and Cathy's obsessive love. The one who felt everything so intensely that he was forced to cage those emotions, to push others away for fear of being consumed.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the moment passed as quickly as it came. Tangerine straightened, clearing his throat roughly as he turned his attention back towards the empty road ahead. His walls were firmly back in place, that flash of vulnerability carefully tucked away.

"Just drive, Peach," he muttered, his voice now flat and devoid of any trace of the rawness you had witnessed mere seconds ago. "We've got a long way to go still."

After that incident, you and him went back to quarreling as usual though it was less heated, more like playful teasing. And you could have sworn Tangerine had started looking at you differently. Sometimes you'd find him gazing at you for a few seconds too long and when you gave him a questioning look back, he avoided your eyes.

Maybe - just maybe - you weren't so immune to giving into the tension between the two of you either. When you tended to the cuts and bruises he accumulated during missions, your touches perhaps lingered a beat too long, savoring the warmth of his skin and the subtle catch of his breath.

And Tangerine, for all his gruffness, could not entirely mask the softening of his features when your gazes met and held for those endless seconds. The pink dusting his sharp cheekbones whenever you aimed a teasing barb his way hinted at vulnerabilities he struggled to conceal behind his prickly exterior.

The friction between the two of you had become undeniable. Every snide remark, every heated debate about classical literature, seemed laced with unresolved tensions that threatened to combust at any moment.

Perhaps it was reckless to allow these flames to be stoked, you mused as you studied Tangerine's profile while he bent over the mission briefing. But there was a thrill in dancing along the precipice, in pushing the limits of how far you could go before that line was finally crossed.

Lemon's knowing glances whenever he sensed the charged atmosphere only fanned the flames further. That grin curving his lips made it clear he found humor in bearing witness to the escalating heat between his two companions. If anyone recognized the forbidden yearnings you each harbored, it was him. And was eager, practically praying for the two of you to get your heads out of your asses and realize your feelings for one another. And that time would come.

The mission had gone sideways in the blink of an eye. One minute they were making their way through the compound, and the next, a hail of gunfire erupted from all angles.

Your heart stopped when the frantic voice crackled over the comms. "Fucking hell - Peach! Tangerine's been hit and he's losing blood!"

Lemon's panicked tones sent ice flooding your veins. You scrambled for the extraction vehicle, hands shaking as you attempted to program the coordinates for the rendezvous point. Bile rose in your throat at the thought of losing him...of losing Tangerine.

What felt like an eternity later, the doors burst open and Lemon staggered inside, half-carrying, half-dragging Tangerine's bloodied form. Your breath caught in your lungs at the sight - his pallid face, the crimson blossoming across his abdomen, soaking through the field dressings haphazardly applied.

"Oh god-" A garbled cry tore from your lips as you rushed forward, hands already working to strip away his tac gear.

Lemon made his way to the front of the vehicle as you were opening every med kit the back of the van contained for gauze and something to stop the blood. Lemon drove anxiously and way over the speed limit.

"Rheneas...you have to be Rheneas," he yelled, the words jumbled as he fought to remain calm. "Brave and resourceful, just like you. You can do this!"

You barely registered his nonsensical Thomas rambling as you focused on staunching the steady flow of blood. Observing the wound critically, you noticed that the bullet had gone straight through but shrapnel had been left behind. You had to start moving before Tangerine bled the fuck out.

Deep breaths, Peach.

“Tangerine,” you murmured, a quiver in your voice. He groaned in response but it seemed as though he was going in and out of consciousness. No. He would not die today.

You tried again, your voice more urgent, desperate, “Tangerine!”

Tangerine's harsh, wet breaths cut through the tense silence, each one a fight for life. His eyes fluttered open, fever-bright and struggling to focus on your face hovering above.

“I have to remove the shrapnel before I can stitch you up, alright? I need you to be strong for me.”

Your hand found Tangerine's, giving his calloused fingers a reassuring squeeze as you met his fever-glazed eyes. "I'm here, Tangerine. Just focus on me, okay?"

He managed the barest dip of his chin in acknowledgment, jaw locked tight against the waves of agony rippling through his battered frame. Steeling yourself, you grasped the forceps with a steadiness that belied the frantic gallop of your pulse.

"Deep breaths," you murmured, the desperation yet softness in your voice slipping out unbidden as your focus narrowed to a laser point.

With deft precision, you delved into the ragged bullet wound, probing for the fragmented pieces of shrapnel lodged amid the tattered flesh. A guttural groan tore from Tangerine's clenched teeth as you worked, his grip on your hand verging on crushing.

"That's it, just hold onto me," you coached, willing every ounce of strength into the man beneath your hands. "You're doing so well, Tangerine. I'm right here."

Tangerine's panting breaths had grown shallow and rapid, his eyes squeezed shut against the onslaught of agony. You watched in rapt focus as a sheen of sweat bloomed across his brow, dampening the tawny strands that stuck in matted clumps to his ashen skin.

Then, with a final twist of the forceps, you carefully pulled free the last insidious fragment. Tangerine arched from the floor, a hoarse bellow tearing from his very core as he rode out the finality of the searing torment.

"Fuckin' hell!"

His hand clenched around yours with crushing force, fingertips digging desperately into your flesh as if you were his only tether in that moment of anguish.

"I've got you, I've got you," you found yourself chanting over the litany of his ragged gasps and Lemon's frantic reassurances over the comms. "You're okay, Tangerine. You're going to be okay."

At last, the tension bled from his corded frame as his body slumped back in total, wrecked exhaustion. His eyes slitted open, still burning with fever but now hazy with shock and blood loss. Tangerine's chapped lips parted soundlessly as his gaze found and locked onto yours with lazer-focus.

For an endless heartbeat, he simply held your stare, a thousand unspoken sentiments and emotions bleeding across the jagged planes of his face.

"Peach..."

The solitary word was little more than a broken rasp, rough and guttural. Yet it contained so much meaning - apologies and promises were woven into that single syllable that hung in the air between you.

Then Tangerine's eyes slipped shut once more as he surrendered at last to oblivion, his hand falling limp yet warm in your grasp. You stared at his deathly still features unblinking, his name echoing like a sacred prayer in your thundering pulse.

"Hang on, Tangerine," you pleaded, voice cracking as you rapidly worked the needle and thread through the ragged wound. "Please - please don't leave me."

Fumbling with the med kit, you quickly threaded a curved needle, hands surprisingly steady despite your inner turmoil. At the front of the vehicle, Lemon continued his soothing chants, something about diesel engines and Sir Topham Hatt, but the words were white noise in your ears. All that mattered was the fragile thread of life you fought so valiantly to preserve through each meticulous stitch. At last, the final knot was tied off and you sagged with sheer physical and emotional exhaustion.

Only then did your own harsh sobs spill forth, harsh and visceral. Burying your face in Tangerine's sweat-damp hair, you clung to him with everything you had, chest heaving with the force of your cries. Tears traced rivers down your cheeks, baptizing his skin with your anguished relief that he yet lived.

At some point Lemon appeared beside you, the door to the van wide open. His soothing hand smoothed circles across your shuddering back as you rode out the storm of emotion. His voice a soft murmur, words of solace about how you were Sir Handel, the reliable, brave-hearted one.

Somehow, Lemon had managed to coax you into helping him carry Tangerine into the safe house. How - you weren't sure because you were in quite a state. And despite Lemon's insistence upon you getting some rest, you swore that you wouldn't leave Tangerine's bedside until he woke up - at which Lemon gave a knowing glance.

At some point, utterly drained, you must have slipped into an exhausted slumber slumped at Tangerine's side. Because the next thing you were aware of was his calloused fingers brushing feather-light against your damp cheek.

You blinked awake groggily to find Tangerine's intense gaze drinking you in as if you were the most precious thing he'd ever seen. His split lips curved in the barest hint of a smile - tired yet impossibly tender.

And that was when the floodgates broke anew. With a harsh sob, you flung yourself against him, face buried in the solid warmth of his neck as you clung with fierce desperation. He was alive - he was alive and with you still.

Tangerine's strong arms enveloped you, holding you impossibly close as his injured body would allow. His lips brushed your hairline in a whisper of a kiss.

"I'm here, love," he rasped, the endearment somehow freighted with a thousand unspoken vows and emotions. "I'm right here. I won't leave you."

Tangerine cradled you against his chest, his fingers tenderly stroking the tear-streaked paths along your cheeks. Each brush of his fingertips was a reassuring caress, a silent vow that he was truly there - battered yet blessedly alive.

"Shh, it's alright now," he murmured, voice rough with exhaustion but impossibly gentle. "I've got ya."

You nodded tremulously against the solid warmth of his neck, inhaling the achingly familiar scent of gunpowder and sandalwood that was distinctly him. Tangerine's arms tightened fractionally, and you melted deeper into his embrace, drawing solace from the steady thrum of his heart against your cheek.

For a while, the rest of the world seemed to fade away until there was nothing but the rise and fall of his breaths, the reassuring metronome of life woven between your entangled forms.

When at last you drew back enough to meet his gaze, the corners of Tangerine's eyes had softened with an emotion you realized now you'd seen flickering there for longer than you cared to admit - a profound depth of feeling he'd never allowed himself to truly acknowledge until this moment.

His thumb traced the delicate curve of your lower lip with a touch so reverent it stole the very breath from your lungs. "You're something else, ya know that?" The words were little more than a hoarse rasp but held a world of unspoken meaning.

Unable to find your own voice past the tidal wave of emotion surging within, you simply leaned into his touch. This earned you the ghost of a smile, more felt than seen, as Tangerine's fingers slipped into the strands at your nape to cup your head with achingly tender possession.

Then, with agonizing slowness, he drew you towards him until your foreheads rested flush, sharing the same tremulous breaths in the scant space between your parted lips. His eyes slipped closed, seemingly savoring this suspended intimacy in which all masks had fallen away, leaving only the exquisite vulnerability of surrender.

"Tangerine..." you breathed his name like a prayer, pouring every ounce of yearning and relief into that solitary utterance.

His lashes fluttered open at the sound, eyes blazing with an intensity that seared straight through to your soul. Then, with the barest tilt of his head, Tangerine closed that last distance and sealed his mouth over yours in a kiss softer than down yet more searing than any brand.

The world around you seemed to come to a halt as you surrendered to the achingly sweet brush of his lips, to the unbearable tenderness of hands cradling you as if you were the most precious thing on Earth. This was a kiss transcending mere physical desire - it was an awakening, a benediction, a binding of your very essence in that single searing moment of connection.

When at last you parted, foreheads still pressed together, Tangerine's fingers traced idle patterns along the pulse point beneath your jaw in silent worship. His eyes shone with naked vulnerability and something deeper, more profound - the promise of an emotion that would be reckless for either of you to put a name to...not just yet.

But in that moment, no words were necessary. The simmering glances, the heated banter, the pushing of boundaries over the years...it had all led you both inexorably to this point of transcendence.

Lemon's soft chuckle from across the van was enough to shatter the spell momentarily. Catching your eye, he offered a warm, knowing smile - the expression of someone bearing witness to the inevitability that had been unfolding between you and Tangerine from that very first moment of friction.

"Took you two long enough," was all he said, but you heard the oceans of meaning in his affectionate tone.

You laughed wetly in response, reaching out a hand in a silent gesture of inclusion that had Lemon rising to join you both without hesitation. He sat beside you both, grinning as you rolled your eyes at him. Resting your head against Tangerine's shoulder, you allowed your eyes to drift closed in solemn contentment.

Lemon speaks up, a thoughtful expression upon his face, "You know I still think Tangerine's a Gordon - bossy and stubborn..."

Tangerine scowls at that, "I'll have ya know that I am nothing like that fucking cunt-"

"No - I think you are," you begin, smiling cheekily, and Tangerine looks at you, tired to be sure, but with narrowed eyes and slight amusement.

Tangerine opened his mouth, no doubt to protest your cheeky comparison, but you laid a finger across his lips, effectively silencing him.

"Just listen," you murmured, eyes sparkling with impish mirth. "Gordon may be pompous at times, but he's also powerful, regal, depended on by everyone on Sodor."

Sliding your hand to tenderly cup Tangerine's jaw, you held his inscrutable gaze as you continued. "You're our Gordon, Tangerine. Gruff and uncompromising on the outside, but with a core of integrity and fortitude that keeps us all pushing forward, no matter what."

Lemon nodded sagely beside you. "She's right, you know. Why d'you think I give you such a hard time?" He flashed that mischievous grin. "Got to keep that ego of yours in check."

Tangerine scoffed, but you caught the barely perceptible crinkling at the corners of his eyes - the ghost of a smile he couldn't quite suppress. Leaning in, you brushed the faintest whisper of a kiss across the corner of his mouth, savoring the rough rasp of his mustache.

"Don't worry, Mr. Gordon," you teased lowly. "We all know there's a big softy beneath that gruff exterior."

A low rumbling sound akin to a contented purr vibrated from deep within Tangerine's chest as he nuzzled his nose against your temple. "Keep that cheek up and you'll see just how soft I can be, darlin'."

The heated undertone in his gravelly timbre raised a delicious frisson along your skin. You bit your lip, holding back a breathless giggle at his not-so-thinly veiled innuendo.

"Well now, I do believe that's my cue to make myself scarce," Lemon piped up, winking broadly as he levered himself up with a dramatic groan. "You two kids have fun. But not too much fun - we've got that briefing at 19:00 sharp."

His departure was punctuated by a rude hand gesture from Tangerine, which only made Lemon's wheezing laughter echo more loudly. You watched him go with a fond shake of your head, savoring the warmth and levity he'd brought to the tender moment.

Then you turned your full attention back to Tangerine, trailing light fingertips along the stark lines and cuts that mapped his beloved face. His gaze caught and held yours, open and vulnerable in a way you'd never seen before - the mask utterly discarded.

"So...Mr. Gordon," you murmured, lips curving. "What shall we do while we've got some privacy?"

Tangerine's hand caressed your jaw, slowly bringing your foreheads together with unexpected gentleness. When at last he spoke, his deep baritone caressed your very soul.

"How about you tell me another story about your favorite trains? I could use a refresher on just why Gordon's supposed to be so bloody remarkable."

You laughed then, bright and unfettered, at the unexpected softness cloaking his rough-hewn edges. Throwing your arms around him, you held on tightly, your face in his neck, all awash with a sense of rightness and belonging that you'd struggled to find for far too long.

@kpopgirlbtssvt @little-miss-dilf-lover @sebsbarnes @kiss-me-cill-me @idontknowwhattohaveasmyuser @spookyspecterino @liukangsgirl @azureseacloud @pretty-little-mind33 i really hope you guys enjoy!

#bullet train #tangerine #bullet train movie #tangerine bullet train #bullet train tangerine #tangerine x reader #tangerine fanfiction #lemon bullet train #tangerine imagine #x reader #reader insert #tangerine fic #tangerine x you #tangerine fluff

104 notes · View notes

mister-mickey · 20 days

Text

FACIAL HAIR HEADCANONS!!!!!!

Darry

- beard that never seems to grow past a mild fuzz

- Disappointed, but he's only twenty, it takes most guys till 35 ti be able to really grow full facial hair

Soda

- he gets a bit of a mustache, but that's it.

- He hates it so much it's not even funny it throws his whole look off

Pony

- baby face

- He is very excited anytime it seems like he might get some thought. Darry and soda think it's funny

Twobit

- canonly gets sideburns so...

- Also I'll say he gets a thick mustache too just cause. He doesn't like it though because food always gets caught in it even when he's trying to keep it clean

Steve

- can only grow very sparse hairs

- He gets so mad when people bring it up. He thinks he looks silly so he shaves it off and hopes for more luck next time

Dallas

- can grow a little bit of beard (canonically had stubble when he went to the church) but he shaves it because it makes him look like his dad

- He doesn't like the facial hair even disregarding that, it's uncomfortable and very scratchy

Johnny

- if he could grow facial hair HE WOULD. He hates being seen as a little kid if he could get a mustache he FUCKING WOULD

- he is stuck with pony in the baby face club (he envies curly and hates him a little for being able to almost grow a mustache)

Tim

- he has to shave every day or else he looks like Jesus. Like full beard and mustache

- Once he was sick for a week and didn't shave, he was a whole different man

- He also gets a slight unibrow, and while he doesn't really care, angela chases him with a wax strip any time it becomes slightly visible

Curly

- Gets a bit of a mustache every once in a while, but Tim and Angela bully him until he shaves it off (maybe has to shave like two times a month)

- It breaks his heart everytime (but he does lord it over pony and says it makes him more of a man)

#the outsiders #tim shepard #curly shepard #darry curtis #dallas winston #ponyboy curtis #steve randle #sodapop curtis #johnny cade #twobit mathews #the outsiders fanart #the outsiders headcanons

140 notes · View notes

pedrotonin · 1 year

Text

OF BOOKS & BALCONIES

Summary: being cooped up inside due to extreme temperatures, you start to really appreciate your balcony. It also helps that Joel is your downstairs neighbour.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Rating: R

Wordcount: somewhere around 3K

Warnings: 18+ stuff. Curse words, masturbation, grinding, fingering.

A/N: my first smut...

The sun seemed to be permanently plastered to the sky these days. No clouds, no rain, barely any wind.

It wasn't so much that you hated the sun, but with it came a scorching heat. For weeks on end the temperature had settled around a 100 degrees.

The QZ was unusually quiet. After multiple people had succumbed to the heat and drinking-water being a scarce source at the moment, they (being the military who ran this place) decided it was too hot to work. That didn't mean you could just hang out on the streets though. They ordered everybody inside and stay there untill some big shot decided otherwise. So here you were. Cooped up inside your home.

It was a tiny apartment. A separate bathroom, but the living room, kitchen (not that you needed a kitchen anyway) and your bedroom were all in the same space. The wooden floor had seen better days and the wallpaper was moldy, but you tried to keep the rest of it as clean and cosy as possible. Which of course was not an easy feat with this whole apocalypse thing going on.

And even though it looked nothing like the house you used to live in before everything went to shit, it felt like home to you. Your safe place. You felt lucky you did not need to share it with anyone. And what you especially loved about it, was the tiny balcony. Your love for it only recently developed (you never really used it before), because with the current temperatures it seemed like a godsend. Being able to open a door to the outside and let some of the heat out and a breeze in, was something that made you extremely grateful. No one dared to keep open their doors to the hallway. Especially the women living alone, for obvious reasons.

Dusk was finally settling in, the sun had disappeared behind the buildings. Voices drifted into your living room. You even heard some music playing. Venturing outside, you let out a deep sigh. It finally started to cool a bit. Deciding to eat your can of cold beans outside you sat on the floor with your back against the lukewarm brick of the building.

That's when you hear them. They were having an argument. Not for the first time either, but you could never really make out the words before. You could now, with both your balcony doors being open.

"Christ Tess! Just keep your mouth shut for once!"

The voice belonging to Joel, your downstairs neighbour. He was somewhere in his late forties or even fifties maybe? He had a permanent scowl plastered on his face and his mouth always set in a thin line. Not once had he said a word to you. Truth to be told, after he downright ignored you twice, (with you only saying 'goodmorning' the first time and 'hi' the second, not bothering to address him again after that) you were a little intimidated by him. He was tall and broad shouldered, with salt and pepper hair, brown eyes and a full mustache and beard (streaked with grey). Okay, so you may have stolen a glance or two his way. A woman had the right to look.

"Oh go fuck yourself, Joel!!"

That was Tess. The woman he lived with. You had no idea if they were a thing, but they looked out for each other. That much was clear. A loud bang (probably a door) followed and then silence filled the air. You took a bite of your beans. You would kill for some ice cream right now.

"Goddamnit."

Joel's voice again, closer this time. He was standing on his balcony now, just below yours.

You heard him mumbling some more profanities and it sounded like he too sat down against the brick wall. You almost dared not to move, afraid he might hear you. Like you were spying on him or something. You chided yourself and took another bite of your beans. The spoon clanking against the can. Fuck it, so now he knew you were there. It was not like he was going to acknowledge your presence anyway.

After finishing your meal you got up to grab a book. Contemplating reading it on your bed or on the balcony, you chose the latter.

Watership Down by Richard Adams. It was one of the few belongings you'd manage to take with you while on the run. You read it hundreds of times. Books were a rarity these days. Most of them being ripped apart and used for fires.

You tried to read, but halfway through, the book brought back memories. It often did. It had been a birthday gift from your parents. You didn't exactly remember which birthday. You were still living with them when it all started. You'd been 19 years old.

You had made it out of the house, into the car. But some twenty minutes later your mom started to turn into one of those things and then it was just you and your dad. Eventually you'd found a small group of survivors with whom you had stayed a couple of years. But more and more people died either by infected or raiders. Your poor father never saw his death coming. You unfortunately did and it still haunted you to this day. You had survived on your own for a couple of years and ended up here. Suddenly feeling lonely and overwhelmed, you started to cry. A few sobs escaped your mouth and your breath came out in little puffs. Well, so much for reading.

You had no idea if Joel was still there. Had he heard your sobs? When you closed your balcony door for the night (safety reasons), you heard him stepping inside and closing his. Well, there was your answer.

----

When you woke up the next morning, the sun already hit your window. Meaning it was late morning. Not that it mattered much, you had no idea what to do these days anyway.

You got up and opened your balcony door. The smell of cigarette filled your nose. The sound of a page being turned. A hum. Joel.

Thinking about last night made you roll your eyes. Sniffling on the balcony right above that stoic man. You stepped outside and immediately spotted something out of the ordinary on your balcony floor. A book. Not your own book, but one you never saw before. You slowly picked it up. Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brönte. You've heard of it, but never had the chance to read it. How on earth did it get here?

Someone flipped a page again, the sound reaching your ears.Joel. Joel who probably heard you read last night and crying afterwards. Did he put it here? You picked up the book and opened it, but there was no note.

You could not stop reading. The day had long gone and stars painted the sky. Finishing the story, you slowly closed the book. Incredible. But now came the difficult task of returning the book to it's rightful owner. You sure as hell weren't going to knock on his door. And where he could balance on his railing and place the book on your balcony, you could not reach his. Only if you would throw it and you would never. Opting to just leave the book where you'd found it this morning, you go to sleep.

Jane Eyre was gone the next morning, replaced by The adventures of Huckleberry Finn, no note. Then came Lord of the Flies, no note, and after that A Clockwork Orange....no note.

You held your latest balcony find in your hand. Brow raised. The title being "Smoky Darling", you looked at the rather interesting cover: a man wearing a red plaid with the buttons undone. Showing part of his tanned, muscular body. Somehow the plaid reminded you of Joel. Though his was green. Shaking that thought you opened the book. And there it was: a note.

- Sorry, out of other options.

The book had you blushing like a teenager. My goodness, did people actually read this kind of stuff? Well, obviously...you're being one of them.

"That's right. Work yourself on my hand. Fuck my fingers" Heat pooled low in your belly. "If you know what's good for you, you're gonna shut your mouth and take your punishment like a good girl" You felt yourself clench at the thought of someone calling you a good girl. "Behave this time, or I'll have to find another way to keep your mouth occupied". You rubbed your thighs together to create some much needed friction. You never really cared much for touching yourself, could never seem to get it just right. But now, you craved for it. Never have you imagined a book could turn you on like this. A book Joel gave you. Did he even read this before he gave it to you?

You grabbed a pencil and the note that came with the book. 'Got more?' you wrote before putting the note back in the book and going to bed. You had vivid dreams of a man wearing a plaid shirt that night. A green one.

The next book was called The Casanova. A guy in a suit on the cover and a short note inside that simply read: '-enjoy'

You thumbed through it, but opted to wait untill it was dark outside, knowing it was probably going to make you feel needy again. When you finally deemed it was time, you all but grabbed the book and sat on your balcony.

Cigarette smoke filled your senses. Was he there? You listened closely. Yes, he was definitely there.

"Joel?" you whispered.

No answer. You tried again: "Joel?"

He let out a "hm", acknowledging he'd heard you.

"Thank you," you whispered, "for the books."

No response, how surprising, really. You opened the book and began reading. "Baby I'm going to make you come untill you pass out" "Fuck, you want me to beg? I'll fucking beg!" You let out a breathy moan. Clasping your hands over your mouth, you listened to any signs Joel might have heard you.

"Keep reading," his voice was low and husky.

Okay, so he did hear you. Your breathing was so loud by now he could probably hear that too. Half an hour later you almost felt like you would spontaneously combust. Lust clouded your mind.

"I finished the book," you breathed.

You lost it then. Didn't know exactly wat it was you were asking for when you whispered his name again.

"Joel, please, I-"

Your hands started to wander over your thighs, up to your stomach and over your breasts. Your nipples hardened under your touch. With one hand you pinched one through your shirt, while the other wandered down your body again. You cupped yourself through your jeans. A moan escaped your lips. You needed more.

"Joel? Can you... talk to me?"

Apparently not because there was no answer. Growing frustrated with his silence you tried again.

"I- I need you to tell me what to do," your voice barely above a whisper. "Please".

Still no answer. Christ, was he really such an ass? You felt stupid, suddenly very conscious of what you were doing.

A knock on your door had you bolting upright. Smoothing down your clothes, you hesitated for a moment before walking inside and opening your door. Right in front of you stood the man in his green plaid. Joel. His eyes looked you up and down, dark, filled with lust. Your cheeks flushed. He was so much taller than you, you'd forgotten how much.

You stepped aside and he walked past you. Looking around your room.

Before you could say anything he beat you to it.

"Get on the couch."

Your feet start walking before your mind can actually comprehend his words. You sit.

He also sits, a little to your left. He leans back and spreads his legs.

"Lie back."

You do, propping yourself up against the armrest so you can still see him. Your feet touch his thigh.

"Touch yourself."

Okay, you could do this. He was finally using words and you wanted to listen, to obey. Your hands slide from your thighs to your breasts, back to your thighs, lower... touching your still clothed pussy.

He inhales sharply and moves his hand to touch his cock.

"Shorts off, keep the panties."

You strip them down your legs and look at his hand. He's pushing his cock to face upwards inside his jeans and then he starts to rub the length of it.

"Open," he commands.

You spread your legs as wide as possible..

"Fuck, so wet. All because of that little book I gave you?"

You blush and cover yourself.

"S'okay darlin'. Lemme help you."

He swats your hand away and touches you. Sliding his fingers over your clit and down to your dripping opening. Pushing a little of the sudden fabric inside of you.

You never felt anything like this before. Your cunt clenches around nothing. "Please," you mumble.

He looks you in the eye while pulling your panties aside. His fingers find you again. He pushes one in, then another, and slowly starts to push them in and out of you. His eyes travel down, and he licks his lips. You moan and his other hand clamps over your mouth.

"Ssssh, baby. Quiet."

He removes his fingers and offers you his hand. You're not sure what he wants, but you take it. He pulls you over his legs so you straddle him with your back towards him.

The sudden pressure and feeling of his clothed cock on your ass has you moaning and his arms settle on your hips, holding you in place. Your own hands gripping his knees.

"Move," he whispers.

You start grinding yourself on him. His mouth opens and a low groan escapes him. A gush of arousal leaks out of you and onto his jeans. One of his hands glides over your ass, over the inside of your thigh and then his fingers are inside you again. You start riding them. His other hand grabs your throat and he pulls you flush against him. His mouth near your ear.

"What do you need, tell me."

"T- talk to me."

"Doing so good. You make me so fuckin' hard."

You shudder. His fingers leave you and his indexfinger starts drawing circles on your clit. Fast, slow, fast, slow.

"I want you to scream my name when I make you come, you hear me?"

He pushes his fingers back inside you and fucks you with them in an almost brutal pace. You're almost there. Your stomach tightens and your legs start to tremble. He crooks his fingers inside of you, the pleasure overwhelming. The hand on your throat tightens as he moans into your ear. "Come for me," and you do. Your pussy clenches around his fingers, liquid gushes out, stars burst behind your eyes, while this all-consuming feeling spreads from your fingers to your toes. Never before has it felt so good. Tears stream down your face, while you chant his name over and over again.

He slowly removes his fingers. They're glistening. He pushes you off of him and you fall onto the couch. You can barely focus. He opens his jeans and pulls himself out, mixing your juices with his precum and smears them over his cock. It only takes him a few strokes before he comes. He groans and his head smacks against the back of your couch. His cum coats his green plaid shirt.

Both breathing hard, you look at each other. He tugs himself back inside his jeans and uses your panties to clean the cum off his shirt. When he's done, he hands them to you with a devilish smile. He stands, walks towards your balcony and comes back with The Casanova in one of his hands.

"Good book?" he asks.

"Very," you reply.

He leaves then without another word, but the next morning there's a new book on your balcony. More English literature...

Motherfucker.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller tlou #joel miller the last of us #pedro pascal characters #tlou #the last of us

392 notes · View notes

translucent-sun · 7 months

Text

Obi-Wan stepped out of the cabin, stilling when he caught a glimpse of himself in the foggy mirror.

“What´s wrong?” Cody asked as he stepped out behind him, approaching Obi-Wan. His hands came up to rest on Obi-Wan´s waist, wet skin on wet skin. A puddle had already started forming around their feet. He caught Cody´s eyes in the reflection, their gazes locking for just a moment before Obi-Wan averted his eyes, smiling.

“Nothing,” he said, slowly shaking his head.

“Alright,” Cody whispered, leaning in to kiss Obi-Wan´s cheek, then pulled back to grab a towel to wrap around Obi-Wan, then one for himself. He dried himself off before wrapping it around his hips. “Coming?” he asked, already heading for the door.

“Give me a minute,” Obi-Wan said, “I need to take care of… this,” gesturing around his head.

Cody chuckled softly. “Alright, you get prettied up and I will get ready and start preparing breakfast.”

With that, he left Obi-Wan to stand in front of the mirror, his fingers first raking through his hair, then his beard. He stroked his chin, his mustache. It would grow back before they fly back, he mused. He´d never really thought about it, but it has been years since he´d last seen himself without his beard. He hummed in thought.

Cody had prepared a simple breakfast and brought it back to their bedroom. When he found it still empty, he huffed, shaking his head. “Are you still in there? This life is starting to make you vain,” he called, chuckling. He put the tray back on their bed, then sat down beside it, waiting. It didn´t take long for the door to open and Obi-Wan to step out.

Cody was too stunned to speak. He could do nothing but stare at him, his mouth agape. Realization hit Cody. He´d felt Obi-Wan´s lips on every part of his body. He´d touched them, tasted them. But this was the first time he saw them, fully. Saw their shape, the way the skin around them moved as he spoke, the way their corners curled when he smiled as he asked, “what?”

Cody closed his mouth, trying to gather words inside it for a moment. “You shaved,” he stated.

Obi-Wan chuckled. “Is it that bad?” He brought his hand to his face, stroking the skin usually hidden by ginger hair.

“Not at all,” Cody replied quickly, almost tripping over the words. He still hasn´t been able to stop staring at him, taking him in. His eyes landed on his chin, his dimple there. It was such an arbitrary thing to think about, he knew that, but he realized that he´d never seen Obi-Wan´s chin before, either. He´s been with that man for the past three years, and he´s just now learning what he looks like. “Come here,” he whispered, pushing the tray to a safe distance.

Obi-Wan strode over, smiling. He put his hands on Cody´s shoulders, then brought his knees up on the bed on each side of him, straddling his legs. He still hadn´t gotten dressed, his towel parting with the movement until it came loose, and he sat atop Cody´s lap unclad. His hands clasped behind Cody´s neck.

“So you like it?” he asked,grinning, the motion wrinkling his face´s exposed skin. Cody´s finger stroked one of the lines it created. How has he never seen this before?

“I love it,” he whispered. “You are gorgeous.” He leaned forward, kissing the corner of his mouth. His finger wandered to Obi-Wan´s chin, resting on the newly discovered dimple, nesting his finger perfectly, as though it was made for the sole purpose of this. He went on to kiss Obi-Wan´s jaw, then a proper kiss onto his lips. “You feel so soft,” he whispered, his other hand coming up to stroke his cheek. Obi-Wan chuckled against his lips, into the kiss.

#from the codywan thing im attempting to write #commander cody #obi wan kenobi #theyre on a mission here #ive made up a whole planet with its own people and culture and ecosystem here so someone better physically force me to finish this monster #codywan #star wars #my writing

159 notes · View notes

fandomsoverlife · 1 year

Text

Tangerine x sweet!gn reader headcanons

Authors note: I watched bullet train and have noticed the fanfic department is lacking, here is my lackluster take on possibly slightly ooc Tangerine with a sweet gender neutral partner. And also bookstore meet cute, sorry I don’t make the rules.

- Tangerine didn’t expect himself to be locked down and in a relationship. He was always out and about, looking over his shoulder, getting bloodstains out of his shirts, and hoping for the best.

- he found you at a bookstore though, perusing the aisles and holding a stack too big for two arms, which he immediately found cute

- it wasn’t until you’d reached for another book that your whole pile came down and he found himself helping you out, stacking the books up carefully into your arms but then deciding to walk with you and help you carry your load to the till when you’d found the book you were reaching for

- he asked you to get a cup of tea with him almost immediately, surprising even himself when the question slipped his lips

- every date you went on, he asked about a different book from the ones he had seen in your stack

- and he kept it classy too, sweet little dates with no overbearing physical contact

- after your cup of tea he had taken you to an art museum, and then to a butterfly garden, and then to a lovely little picnic in a very secluded part of a park where you’d jumped his bones and let him have you against a picnic blanket during sunset (quite a charming first time)

- he didn’t tell Lemon about you until the picnic incident had happened, when he’d called him the next morning after you had left his home

- he lied to you for the first three months of going out, about his job and what he was doing every time he left

- the guilt ate him away at the insides, every time he’d look into your shining eyes, wide with adoration and trust, and when he kissed you goodbye

- when he came clean it was after a hard job. Lemon narrowly escaped death and he himself was doing pretty bad

- he came to your home and knocked on your door, hugging you tight and whispering that he wasn’t who he said he was and he was so sorry

- when you pulled away and looked up at him, laughing, he was scared.

“Why are we laughing when I’ve just told you I’m a contract killer, love?”

“It’s funny because you thought I didn’t know something was wrong. I figured out the crime a long time ago.”

- it turns out using a code name and going on frequent business trips that mar you with bruises leaves a little bit up to question

- he is grateful you’re understanding

- treats you like you’re a prize and he’s never won before in his life

- dotes on you constantly in his own way

- acts annoyed when you forget a jacket but he’s shrugging his own the second he sees you shiver, before you can mention being cold

- you don’t go to the gas station anymore, your tank is always filled the second it gets below half full. You don’t even have to say anything, he just checks.

- your favorite snack is always in his cabinet, your favorite drink in his fridge

- pet names galore

- bird, pretty, love, sweetheart, babe, poppet

- he will steal things for you, completely “accidentally” sometimes - the things he nicks just happen to be something you’d like.

- loves to hear you talk about whatever interests you

- is not great at saying how he feels out loud

- his affection is more physical

- hand on the lower back in a crowd, clasped in yours as you walk down the street, pulled into his side if it’s dark or chilly

- he likes to watch you get ready in the mornings

- will not let you shave his face and/or trim his mustache

- will let you play with his hair at any point

- will give you shoulder rubs

- when you finally meet lemon, tangerine is a little floored when he sees how well you get on

- he’s not too happy when you both get to teasing at him the way he does to everyone

- he is happy the person he loves makes everyone else just as happy as they make him

#tangerine #bullet train #tangerine bullet train #bullet train headcanons #bullet train hc #tangerine headcanon #tangerine x reader #tangerine and lemon #lemon #lemon bullet train #tangerine imagine #bullet train imagine #atj tangerine #tangerine x you #tangerine x oc #my writing

800 notes · View notes

bradshawssugarbaby · 7 months

Text

Heads Carolina, Tails California - Jake Seresin x Reader

A/N: I was listening to country music and was inspired, now I have a Hangman fic on my hands. Sorry y'all.

pairing: Lt. Jake Seresin x reader

warnings/content: none other than jake being a flirt and drunkenly singing country music.

word count: 2k

The beach was quiet for a weekend afternoon, a rare occurrence that you opted to take advantage of today. You and your friends couldn’t think of anything better to do today than spend a lazy day on the sand by the waterfront, taking in the bright Californian sun and the warm breeze. You laid out on your beach towel on the sand, the scent of your sunscreen and saltwater surrounding you, sunglasses perched on your face, you squinted up at the sun before shutting your eyes, taking in the day.

“Oh my god, look at that.”

You sat up, your eyes following to where your friend Stephanie was unashamedly pointing to. You almost admonished her for pointing like a schoolgirl until you saw what she was gesturing to. Tall, handsome, shirtless men had suddenly overtaken a spot on the beach just a few yards down from you, tossing a coloured football around between them.

“Steph…you know who they are, right?”, you heard your friend Courtney ask almost in disbelief.

“Navy men!” They practically squealed together.

“Guys, they might not necessarily be in the Navy, civilians come here too, I mean, we’re not in the Navy,” you pointed out, knowing that neither of them would likely listen to your reasoning.

“Please, men looking that good? If they’re not in the Navy, then they’re a group of Coppertone models,” Stephanie said matter-of-factly.

“I call dibs on the tall one with the mustache, he looks like he’s down for a good time, you know? Plus, those denim shorts aren’t hiding much,” Courtney smirked as her gaze narrowed in on the man in question. She went instantly into flirt mode, trying her best to impress from where she was seated. Suddenly, the man lowered his sunglasses to get a better look at her, before calling over.

“Hey pretty girl, do you wanna come play football? We’re down a guy and I could use an extra set of hands on my side!” His voice was as smooth as velvet as he spoke, and his million dollar smile that followed his words was enough to make you all swoon. Before he’d even finished his sentence, Courtney was making her way over to him, grinning back at the two of you before introducing herself to him and joining his team for this impromptu beach football game that was unfolding.

“Some people get all the luck,” Stephanie grumbled and huffed as she blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. Almost instantly though, her pout dissolved as she spotted a younger looking man, wearing a yellow t-shirt and workout shorts, sporting glasses with his blonde hair combed into a military approved cut.

“Oh…I like this one,” She nodded.

“Steph, come on, you can’t just pick them out like a goldfish at the pet store,” you chided as you checked your manicure, giving it a once over before looking back out at the football game.

“You know…I think I’m gonna go see if they need a cheerleader.”

Before you could even respond, Stephanie had gathered her things in her tote bag and taken off to go sit and watch the game up close, giving flirtatious little waves to the solely shirted member of the game, his cheeks flushing red as he waved back to her with a smile on his face.

“So much for a girls day…” you sighed as you rolled your eyes.

Just as you were settling back onto your towel on the sand, trying to focus all of your attention on relaxing and your tan, you heard the opening notes of a familiar song trailing from the football game. This time, you look up and notice a blonde man with a muscular physique, hands on his hips and raybans over his eyes as he yells at his friends.

“This is a great song! How could you not like ‘Heads Carolina, Tails California?’”

You smirked and laughed to yourself as you heard the chorus of the song, followed by someone, presumably Blondie, singing along in a deep, off-key baritone.

“Somewhere greener, somewhere warmer, up in the mountains, down by the ocean-”

You heard Courtney mention your name to her new male friend, and when you looked up, she shot you a grin, trying to intice you to come over. She knew you loved this song, country music was your weakness, having grown up in Tennessee. You sighed and rolled your eyes behind your sunglasses before standing up. You had to admit, if for nothing else, poor Blondie looked like he was two beers deep into a country playlist on Spotify that wasn’t going to end well for him.

“I heard my song.” You said with a smirk as you looked at Courtney.

“Bradley was just saying how this is also his friend’s favourite song.”

“Hi,” You responded as you pointed towards Blondie, who was still having a karaoke moment solo, as if either desperately trying to convince his buddies it was a great song or as if he was trying to forget the fact he was being humbled in football.

“Where it don’t matter, long as we’re goin somewhere together–”

“I’ve got a quarter, heads Carolina, tails California”

You harmonized with him as best as you could, your voices melodically flowing together to create something that sort of resembled the original song. Blondie turned and flashed you a blindingly bright smile. His teeth were flawlessly perfect, much like the rest of him. He flipped his sunglasses to the top of his head, his seafoam green eyes locking on you as he raised an eyebrow, as if impressed or surprised (or both) at the fact that you knew the words and joined in with him.

“I’m Jake,” He said, extending his tanned, muscular arm in your direction to offer you his hand.

You nodded your head as you shook his hand and gave him your name, a soft laugh escaping your parted lips, “I don’t think I’ve heard anyone sing Heads Carolina like that since I was a kid. It was my mom’s favourite song when I was little.”

“Hey, mine too!” Jake laughed as he shook a hand through his short blonde hair, “I’m just glad someone recognized the song. None of these idiots did,” He frowned before muttering something about them not being from the South under his breath.

“Maybe I know it because I’m from Tennessee,” you helped.

“That might be it, you know. I’m a Texas boy myself,” he nodded, “Austin, born and raised.”

“Chattanooga, not exactly the country music capital but close enough,” You nod.

Jake smiled and shook his head, looking almost bewildered at the fact he’d met a girl from the South in California. He reached into the cooler that he and his friends had brought, grabbing himself another drink. He looked up at you from his crouching position at the cooler.

“Can I get you anything, sugar? We’ve mostly just got beer, but there might be the odd vodka soda hiding in here, and we have just regular sodas and waters in there too, our buddy Baby-on-Board over there doesn’t drink much, so we make sure we have stuff for him too,” He nods, pointing towards the shirt-wearing guy that Stephanie currently was giggling with, her hands resting on his shoulder as she talks to him, completely oblivious to anything around her.

“Uh, beer, thanks…sorry, did you just say his name is Baby-on-Board?” You raised an eyebrow, praying it was a nickname.

“Yeah, uh, wait, I’ll explain. So we’re all Naval aviators, and we all have callsigns for when we’re in the air. Robert over there told us his is Bob but never told us what it stood for, so, I just filled in the blanks. I think it’s just a nickname for Robert and he didn’t come up with anything better for a callsign, but this is more fun.”

“So what’s your callsign then?”

“Hangman,” he says proudly as he stands up to hand you your beer and smiles, his chest puffing slightly as he speaks. “Bradley over there is Rooster.”

“Why Hangman?”

“Well, I’m the only aviator on active duty with a confirmed kill,” He nods, his voice full of pride, ignoring the groans from his friends.

“That’s not why and you know it, Jake!” one of them shouts.

“I am though, I’m the only one.”

“Well,” a dark haired brunette woman in a sports bra and athletic shorts spoke this time, smirking as she looked at Jake, “That is technically true, but you’ve left out a few details though. You’re Hangman because you always leave us hanging out to dry.”

“Hey, I just fly fast, not my fault if you can’t keep up, Phoenix,” he retorts dryly with a smirk before sipping his beer.

Jake sets his drink down on the cooler and picks up his phone, selecting another song on his seemingly never-ending playlist. He finally settled on something, smirking as he set it down beside his drink before heading out to play in the next round of football. He gestured for you to follow him, a wide grin plastered on his gorgeous features.

“You coming along? I need a good runningback for this one.”

You hesitantly took a swig of your drink, the cold liquid hitting your throat as you gulped it down. You adjusted your ponytail and nodded as you kicked off your sandals and headed after him, laughing as you shook your head.

“I’m not much of a football player,” you said, knowing his expectations of you probably weren’t high to begin with.

“That’s fine, I just need you to run fast if you catch it, ok, sweets? I think you can do it.”

He gave you a reassuring smile as he placed his hand on your shoulder playfully before pointing to where he needed you to stand. As the acting quarterback, Jake threw a perfect spiral towards a teammate, and you took off running to be in the game. The teammate passed it back to Jake, who, surprisingly, tossed it to you. You caught it, and without even thinking twice, you ran as fast as your legs would allow, ducking hands and tackles left right and centre as you made it to the makeshift goal post. The others whistled and cheered in surprise and you looked over to see Jake grinning proudly at his newest draft pick as he came jogging over to you.

“Jesus, where’d you learn to run like that? I don’t think I could even keep up.”

“I, uh,” you panted, trying to catch your breath as you spoke, “I played on my school’s lacrosse team when I was in high school, so I guess there? I haven’t played in a decade though. And football, I mean, I only ever played with my brothers for fun, never on a team or anything.”

“Well, I’m gonna have to get your number now so I can call you when we decide to play again, because I’m pretty sure you’ve just outplayed all of us.”

“Is that so?” You cocked an eyebrow up at him as you smirked, your hands resting on your hips, just above the waistline of your short denim shorts.

“Honestly, I’m both impressed and a little intimidated, and I’ve never been known to be intimidated by a woman before, it’s kind of hot though…” his voice trails off, as if the last part of his sentence wasn’t initially supposed to be an outside thought.

“Hot?” You teased, raising an eyebrow, “Did you just call me hot?”

“I guess I did, yeah,” He smirked as he handed you his phone, your fingers brushing against each other as you took it from him.

Typing your number in, you grinned as you handed it back to him, nodding your head as you grabbed your bag and stepped back into your sandals.

“I should really get going, but I guess you’ll text me later?” You smirked as you stopped to look at him one last time before heading out with your friends.

“You can count on it, babe.”

141 notes · View notes