20//she, her//bookworm//escapism: that’s how i roll✯*⋆ ⋆⋆* ✯* *⋆⋆ ⋆✯ ⋆** *⋆✯
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soooo glad you’re back!!!!!
i love how domestic kayce and stella have gotten!!! it’s adorable to see how far they’ve come
i already want mia gone🙄 can’t stand her, but jimmy reeling in stella makes me giggle lol
Movin’ Mountains
Chapter 6: Wildflowers and Wild Horses
* Pairing: Kayce Dutton x OFC Stella Daniels
* Rating: M
* Warnings: language, hating on Mia (lol), pretty tame tbh.
* Word count: 3,115ish
I would love to give credits to @dameronscopilot and @deanscroissant and @lexixstewart for being sounding boards for me during this whole process, giving outsider insight, being cheerleaders, and allowing me to screech at them about things that have happened during the writing process. I seriously couldn't have gotten this far without y'all.
Author's note: Hey everyone! I promise I haven't disappeared completely. I just ended up needing some time off from writing, but I'm back! I figured I would post this as an apology for being gone for so long, and a thank you to all those who have stuck with me and all the new folks who have shown this story love. I'm hoping to get back to my regular posting speed soon. I hope everyone enjoys this gentle kick back into the world of Kayce and Stella! If you've read this far into my author's note, thank you ♥.
Stella sat quietly with her legs crossed on the bed in the big house. The bedroom that belonged to John. At least up until a few weeks ago when he had Gator place her things in when they went up to the spike camp. It now belonged to Kayce and Stella for the time being. She gazed around thoughtfully thinking about how this used to be John’s bedroom. The discomfort settled in if she thought about it too long. It felt almost disrespectful that she and Kayce took his father’s bedroom while he went to sleep in one of the many cabins that Lee stayed in.
It was early. The sunlight snuck in through the blinds appeared dull and not fully awake yet. It’s how Stella felt. Kayce had been moving around for a while, getting ready for the day. With his movement, she’d slowly sat up little by little. He would walk by her and graze her skin with a light touch. A kiss here and there, on her shoulder, her cheek. It was a new sense of domesticity that she was still getting used to.
In the last few weeks, a lot had happened. Market Equities sent out cease and desists, stalled lawyers, and made land grabs for the Yellowstone. Beth worked fervently in the background to take down the large corporation or at least hold them up. Jamie was sworn in as Attorney General, and Kayce stepped into the position of Livestock Commissioner after his brother.
Jimmy got a girlfriend. Stella groaned in distaste at the thought of Mia. She probably was a very sweet girl, but damn was she annoying. Stella smirked at that thought because to her, it sounded like Rip. Jimmy got critically hurt at that damned rodeo. Teeter gave all the boys a run for their money, just like she’d hoped. A fight with a bunch of out of town bikers. Even Stella had been promoted to being more hands on with the side of the job that Rip took care of.
Stella zoned out on the mattress, memories of everything she’d done as Rip’s understudy. She’d threatened many people, punched quite a few more. She’d made many trips to the hospital, more than she would have liked, but Jimmy was there. She would sacrifice her aversion for the hospital and Mia for him.
John’s past seemed to be coming up hot on their tails too. Wade Morrow was keeping a bunch of buffalo on the land next to the Yellowstone. The buffalo brought problems of their own, but Wade was really the problem. He was working for Market Equities, who now had control of the resort Jenkins had built. Stella figured they brought in someone who could rattle John’s chain, and so far it was working. Wade was a distraction.
Stella chewed at her lip, thinking about all the shit that was about to blow up with the Market Equities problem, and Wade Morrow.
Kayce rounded the corner, taking in her tense shoulders and far away stare. “Hey,” he muttered softly. “I can smell the fire from here. What’re you thinkin’ about?” He walked over to her, easing himself onto the edge of the bed in front of her.
Her gaze upon the mattress broke and she looked tiredly up at Kayce. “We’re really in the shit, aren’t we?�� Her body sagged forward and she focused on her fingers. She hated to bring up the trouble this early in the day, but someone had to say something.
Kayce digested her words for a minute, knowing exactly where all her worries stemmed from. His own were included in that. He nodded with a sigh, “we are,” he placed a hand on her calf and gave a gentle reassuring squeeze, “but we’ve got a plan, and we’re gonna see it through.” He kneaded her leg again causing her to look back at him. Their eyes locked. A silent agreement passed between them. To anyone on the outside, they would have thought the new couple was only admiring one another.
Stella smiled softly at him, breaking the tense spell they’d cast upon each other. “So what does Mr. New Livestock Commissioner have on the table for today?”
He ran his other hand through his hair, bashful. His cheeks felt warm at her new title for him, “probably just catching up on some paperwork.” An explosion of giggles from Stella interrupted him.
“We all know you hate paperwork, Kace.”
“Yeah, but it has to be done at some point. The paper pushers start chewin’ at the bars of the cage when they don’t have anything to do,” he chuckled at her amusement. “Might have a few meetings with ranchers around the county too.”
“Oh,” Stella said suggestively as she rearranged and scooted closer to him.
Kayce wrapped his arm around her shoulders and laid back, pulling them both across the bed. She squealed in delight. Stella snuggled into his side, enjoying the warmth that radiated off of him.
“Actually,” he cleared his throat, “one of my meetings is with a, uh,” he squinted his eyes like he was thinking hard, “Stella Daniels,” he playfully looked at his wrist as if checking the time, “right about now.” He leaned down and captured her lips with his.
Stella sighed happily and let herself be consumed for a brief moment by her best friend. Her boyfriend. That was something she was still working on getting used to as well. She gently pushed back on his chest and grinned hearing his displeased grumble. “As much as I would love to take this meeting,” she rubbed his chest, “I have to rain check.”
“And why is that?”
“Because you’ve got that shiny new job to get to, and I have a grouchy lead wrangler to get to. We gotta take one of the horses up to Hamilton, see if they’ll take him for broncoing.” Stella chuckled, “I probably should’ve been down there 20 minutes ago. He’s gonna be pissed.” She placed a quick kiss on Kayce’s lips and jumped up to get ready. He remained on the bed, but propped himself up on his elbows to watch her.
He knew her rain check wasn’t actually rejection. Her mind had been busy since everything happened with Tate, and even busier when they had her start working closer with Rip. Her shoulders were still tense as she raced around the room searching for her outfit, still adjusting to her things being intermingled with his.
He smiled affectionately as she got irritated and grabbed one of his t-shirts and quietly mumbled fuck it to herself. She ripped off her plain white sleep shirt, slipped on her bralette, and tugged the borrowed clothing over her head. She gave a sigh of relief when the scent of his clothes washed over her. Fresh and clean, but still an undertone of the man that wore it. He was pleased to see that relaxed her, even just the smallest bit.
They all knew Stella could handle the ranch work. She’d done it since before she could legally hold a job and then some. The ranching was the easiest part. There was no denying she was damn good at it, and quick to think on her feet. A great partner for Rip to bounce off of, and for Kayce when he was out with the wranglers.
What Kayce hated was that Stella promised his dad she’d do the job of being Rip’s second hand to fill the gaps that Lloyd couldn’t fill anymore, and then take Rip’s place when the time came. It was a dangerous job that Rip had. Rip was John’s attack dog and cleanup crew. There was no question she would do that, and do it well, for Kayce when the time came. No doubt in his mind truthfully, but he was frustrated that she felt like she had to do it.
Stella pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and sniffed. She could feel Kayce’s eyes on her the whole time she got ready. She knew he worried about her, but she wasn’t ready to break. Not yet anyway. She tossed her shirt at him softly, grabbing his attention when he caught it. “Now who’s got the fire burnin’?”
Kayce dropped her shirt on the bed and stood to his full height, meeting her in the middle of the room. Gentle hands wound their way around Stella’s lower back. She placed her arms on top of his shoulders and tilted her head back to gaze up at him with soft eyes.
He stared down at her appreciatively. Shame made his stomach sink when he thought about how Monica would have been fine in this situation, but wouldn’t handle it nearly as well as Stella was. With Monica, the small conversation he and Stella had this morning would have most likely ended up in a fight. With Stella, it didn’t.
Her fingers trailed slowly up the back of his neck and she wrapped them around some of the hair at the base of his neck. She gave a gentle tug and locked eyes with him. “Hey, we’re both gonna be just fine. I know it. I’ll have Jimmy with me today anyhow. Can’t get in trouble if the logical portion of the dipshit circus is with me.”
Kayce chuckled because it was true. For whatever reason, when it came to Jimmy and Stella, he was most likely the one who would convince her not to jump into action. Hell, even Kayce struggled with stopping her sometimes. “Yeah, alright,” he relaxed against her. He leaned in and caught her in a kiss that felt like the ground would swallow both of them up.
Stella mumbled against his lips, “not fair. That’s playin’ dirty.”
Kayce pulled away with a devilish grin. “We always play dirty ‘round here, baby.” He winked and turned her toward the door, effectively herding her out of the room.
Stella jogged down the hill as fast as her still balance would allow. Deep breaths and her didn’t fully agree yet. The doctors told her it would probably take a while for it to not cause discomfort, but she wondered exactly how long she could expect it to last.
Spotting the work truck attached to a trailer, she knew Rip was close to leaving. Movement coming from the bunkhouse caught her eye, and she decided this was the perfect time to catch Rip off guard and act like she’d been there waiting. Quickly she leaned up against the trailer, propped one foot up on it, and crossed her arms. When Mia came around the corner with the trailer door, Stella groaned inwardly and Mia shrieked.
Rip’s voice boomed from behind the vehicle, “the fuck are you screamin’ about?”
Mia’s hand was on her chest while she caught her breath. “Stella,” she pointed and panted, “Stella’s here.”
Stella smiled smugly at the woman’s reaction. She was glad there was still some trepidation for her in Mia’s mind. Stella didn't want to completely frighten Mia off, but she did want the “fuck around and find out” threat be in Mia’s mind always. Stella pushed herself off the trailer, keeping her arms crossed, and peeked around the door with a grin.
Rip frowned at her, unamused. “Where the hell have you been? You’re late.”
“I’ve been here, waitin’ on you,” Stella shrugged. “What’s she doin’ here? We don’t need four people for one horse. A horse who’s not as much trouble as you say he is, mind you.”
Mia made a sound of dejection, “well Jimmy’s too busted up, and Rip’ll be doing the important talking, so that leaves us to do it.”
Stella’s fists tightened under her crossed arms. The passive attempt at Mia taking the reins boiled beneath her skin. This barrel racer was gonna be the death of her. She didn’t have anything against barrel racers in general, but the ones that acted like ‘pick me’s’ ground her gears. Laramie was great, fine even. She had her moments, but she fit in with the guys fairly well. Mia on the other hand? A shared look of irritation passed between her and Rip over Jimmy’s shoulder. Jimmy moved and blocked their view of each other.
Jimmy gave Stella a pleading look. He knew she was about to object, rather loudly just like her brother would, so he hoped his look was enough to stop her.
Stella stared at him above her glasses that had slipped down her nose and readjusted them with a sigh, “okay, fine.” Stella waved Mia to the barn. “Go get that 5 year old sorrel outta the first stall.”
Mia squealed with delight at Stella’s acquiescence and darted into the barn, excited to prove herself.
Stella gave Jimmy a sidelong glance, “if me or Rip don’t kill her, you owe me.”
Mia strutted back out of the barn, bringing the 5 year old gelding, named Hotshot. Her heart pounded in her chest as she bounced along, ready to get Stella on her side. Stella hadn’t been cold to her, but the icy breeze that blew her way when Stella was around bothered her. Mia could tell that Stella and jimmy were close. If Mia was planning on being around for any length of time, she knew she had to get the secret leader of the pack to like her.
Mia pulled Hotshot along, but true to his name, he showed out when she tried to get him up into the trailer. He dug his back hooves into the ground and snorted in annoyance.
Stella stepped over out of the way closer to Rip and Jimmy. She knew Hotshot was about to lose his mind. They watched as Mia tugged on his lead rope unsuccessfully. The woman groaned at him for making her look foolish. She looked like she was getting ready to pull at him again.
Stella held her hand up and tried to offer advice to the barrel racer, “Mia, I wo—,” but Mia interrupted her frustratedly.
“—I got it, Stella!” Mia shouted at her. Stella’s face dropped and she smacked her lips, muttering, alright, fine. The combination of Mia’s loud voice and another yank on his head sent him into a fury. He reared back with a squeal, ripping the lead from Mia’s hands. The gelding snapped back, bowed up and bucking. The bucks themselves were only bunny hops, so he wasn’t pissed enough that they couldn’t calm him down. Mia began to dart out the door of the trailer after Hotshot, but Stella’s voice stopped her.
“Don’t move,” Stella let out the warning in a quick, firm growl. Mia stopped short of the end of the trailer and stared at Stella with wide eyes as a set of hooves shot out and dented the one trailer door still closed. Stella shook her head and huffed out a sigh. This was why she hadn’t wanted to entertain Mia coming with them in the first place.
Mia began to stumble through an explanation.
“I don’t care, Mia,” Stella dismissed her quickly.
Stella assessed the annoyed gelding. His small hops turned into loping around in front of the barn. He turned this way and that, deciding who to turn his anger toward. They were in front of the barn which didn’t have a completely closed off fence, but enough of a border to keep him from bolting off into the lower pastures.
Stella whistled shrilly and Hotshot’s ears moved in her direction. His lope slowed down to a trot, but his movement didn’t stop. She whistled again, sharper this time, and he actually turned his head to her. “Yeah, you. I know you ain’t stupid. C’mon.” Stella patted her leg gently and clucked her tongue at him softly.
She watched as Hotshot tossed his head with a snort. Stella forced her shoulders to relax as she turned away from him. Now was the time that the work she’d been putting into the gelding would shine. If any of it stuck with him. She was putting a lot of faith in him. Jimmy caught her gaze and stared at her like she was crazy. She smirked at him, and crossed her arms, confident that Hotshot would come around.
“What the hell are you doin’?” Mia all but whispered from the confines of the trailer. “Don’t turn your back on him!”
“This isn’t for you to interrupt, Mia,” Rip scolded her. “This is Stella’s job. Let ‘er be.” Rip caught the ghost of a grin on Stella’s lips and returned the sentiment. He knew Stella could handle this gelding. She’d been fighting with the strong-willed horse just as much as he had over the last few months. He thought about how she'd been taking on more of a hands-on role lately. His chest tightened with subtle pride for the woman she'd become over the last few years; even more strong-willed, gritty, independent. But every time she took a step deeper into the shit with him, there was something underneath that made his stomach turn. A cloud of fear loomed over his head about her getting sucked too far in and no one left to pull her out. He understood it was what Stella and John agreed upon, but he couldn't help but feel some apprehension toward it. He knew she could handle almost anything this life threw at her, but if he had his way, he wouldn't have her face it at all.
The sound of hooves trotting up behind her made Stella brace for impact if Hotshot’s proverbial brakes didn’t work well enough. He was testing his boundaries and seeing if she trusted him enough. She knew he wouldn’t purposefully hurt her. Her feet moved one step forward as she heard the gravel under the gelding’s skidding feet. Hotshot hopped a few steps and moved to her right side to avoid her as gravel sprayed up and hit the back of her calves.
Stella tilted her head to the right, and listened to his labored breathing from his temper tantrum. She gauged how ready he was for the invasion of her voice and presence. He continued to soothe himself, so she figured it was safe to continue. “You done, buddy?” Stella asked gently. The other three in the group had to strain their ears to hear Stella talk to the gelding.
Hotshot nudged Stella’s elbow and she carefully brought her arm up to wrap underneath his neck, placing her palm flat against his large jaw. She breathed in slow, deep, breaths, convincing the hyped up horse to settle. Once his vibe felt relaxed, head starting to droop, Stella grabbed a hold of the lead rope.
Without turning around, she directed Mia to get out of the trailer and make her way over to Rip and Jimmy. “But go the long way around. Don’t you dare come up behind this horse right now. I’ll kill you myself.”
“I’d do what she says, Mia,” Rip offered guidance.
When Stella heard the crunch of gravel under Mia’s boots go around the front of the truck, her shoulders fully dropped. She whispered, “c’mon boy, let’s get you loaded up, yeah?” Her heart cried because she wanted to keep working with him. But she knew he needed someone who could work with him every day, and around here at the moment, it didn’t seem feasible for her to do. Stella was sure the men in Hamilton would take good care of him.
#yellowstone#kayce dutton#yellowstonetv#kayce dutton fanfiction#kayce dutton fanfic#yellowstone fanfiction
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spotify wrapped tag game! thank you for the tag @mynameismckenziemae !!!🤍
i didn’t think Morgan would be my #1 but sure😅🤷🏼♀️
heartbreak hit hard this year which makes so much sense why Religiously is my #1 (absolutely LOVE that song)
i think there should be more Nickelback, Lainey, and the Twisters soundtrack should have made an appearance but this makes sense for the most part!
such a fun game! thanks again @mynameismckenziemae !! no pressure tag: @keep-the-wolves-close (not sure if you use spotify but you’re my one other friend on this app hahahah)
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holyyyyy shitttt🥵
in DESPERATE need of some of this rn😏😩
love these two men together😉
No Nut November
Part 1 of 2.
Jake Seresin x F Reader/You x Bradley Bradshaw
Summary: Bradley and Jake decide to partake in No Nut November…without consulting you first. You’re determined to make them cave.
Warnings: Adults (18+) only! MDNI! This work contains: adult language, dirty talk, teasing, talks of ass play/anal, oral (f receiving), a little spanking.
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“You wouldn’t last a week,” Jake chuckles as he leans forward over the green velvet pool table to shoot, “I’ve bunked with you for chrissakes.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bradley asks, resting his back against the wall.
The way his eyes heat when they flick to Jake’s jean-clad ass makes your stomach flutter as you drop off the round of beers.
There’s…something going on between them, but you never ask. Just like they know you’re hooking up with both of them, but neither ask you about that either.
“It means,” Jake straightens as he replies, “I’ve heard you rub one out. Like, every night.”
The image his words bring to mind nearly makes you drop the tray. Bradley lying there in the dark, hand shoved inside those boxer briefs, biting his lip to stay quiet as he hurriedly jerks off…
Bradley flushes but appears otherwise unbothered he takes the beer you offer. His eyes are on yours while he replies, “I’ve got a high sex drive.”
God, does he ever. Not once in the countless nights you’ve spent with him over the past year has he only gone one round. Usually, the next morning too, when you wake up to his hard cock pressing against your ass.
“And no self-control apparently,” Jake quips at your back, sliding his fingers down your arm as he reaches around to take one of the bottles.
Bradley rolls his eyes as he takes a long swig, holding the bottle out to you when he’s done. “Will you hold this while I wipe the floor with Bagman, sweetheart?”
“Hangman,” Jake corrects like he does every time.
Bradley winks as he hands you the bottle, knocking his shoulder into Jake’s after he takes the cue from him.
“So,” you say as you turn to watch, leaning back in the spot Bradley vacated before bringing his beer to your lips to steal a drink, “What were you two talking about?”
“No Nut November,” Jake replies, retesting beside you. “A couple of the boys are participating. Bradshaw thinks he could do it no problem.”
“What about you?” You look up day him, “Think you can go a full month without it?”
He licks his lips, taking a drink before meeting your gaze.
“30 days of without your hand,” your nails trail up his arm, goosebumps rising in their wake, “or mine.” He tenses when you lean in to whisper near his ear, “Without my mouth or pussy…”
“Fuck,” he breathes, turning his head. The green in his eyes is hardly visible from his lust-blown pupils. The low din of the bar fades away as he draws closer for a kiss.
“Your turn,” Bradley interrupts, causing you both to jump, “And you say I’m the one with no self-control?”
“Yeah,” Jake pushes off the wall, clearing his throat, “You’re the one who can’t wait to jerk off until his bunkie is asleep,” he turns to look at you with a haughty look, “and yes. I can go 30 days without.”
Your brow arches at the line he just drew.
Game on.
“Fuck off,” Bradley laughs, as Jake tugs the cue from his hand and lines up his shot. “Well instead of going to the bathroom 10 minutes later to do the same thing, you could’ve just said something.”
Jake doesn’t reply, but the way his body stiffens tells you what you need to know.
“That’s what I thought,” Bradley murmurs. His smirk turns to a frown when he takes his beer back that’s now only half full.
Penny catches your eye and back behind the bar you go.
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Even though you don’t hear the rest of the conversation, they both leave shortly after with a bullshit excuse about an early morning hop.
Like that’s ever stopped either of them before.
A few days go by with radio silence. Which is unusual despite the casual situationship you’re in with them both. At least you keep telling yourself it’s casual.
Both Jake and Bradley have made it abundantly clear that they want more from you, but you keep using the excuse that you’re not looking for anything serious right now.
But the truth is, you can’t choose between them.
And how could you? Bradley’s charming, funny, and easy-going nature puts you at ease. His cool confidence carries into the bedroom too, the way he coaxes orgasm after orgasm from your body with his dirty words, his talented tongue, his big hands, and bigger cock…
Then there’s Jake. Sure, he’s a cocky asshole, but that’s the thing you lov-like most about him. The way he teases, overstimulates, pushes your body to the limits, and makes you beg is addicting in itself. But in the quiet after, his well hidden sweet, vulnerable side is revealed with murmured praises and sweet kisses to your trembling skin as he wraps his body around yours.
You don’t reach out either and a full week goes by before you see either of them again.
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“Hey sweetheart,” the sound of Bradley’s voice from behind makes your heart flutter.
“Hey,” you turn, feigning nonchalance as you wipe down the bar, “Long time no see.”
I’ve missed you.
“Yeah,” he sighs, sitting on one of the stools, “it’s been crazy at work.”
“Oh,” you fill a glass with what’s on tap and set it down in front of him, “figured you were avoiding me.”
“Now why would I be avoiding you?” He smiles before he brings the bottle to his lips, eyes twinkling.
“You know why,” you lean over the bar, giving him a nice view of your pushed-up breasts down your shirt as you clean the wood in front of him, “You agreed to No Nut November, didn’t you?”
He’s licking the foam from his mustache, eyes locked on your chest when you straighten, “Huh?”
“You and Jake are doing No Nut November, aren’t you?”
“Yeah,” he snaps out of it, giving you a sheepish look, “not the best idea in hindsight.”
“Not really,” you agree, brushing your fingers over his, “I’ve been lonely without you, Roo.”
He exhales shakily at that, giving you a heated look at the name you call him only in bed.
“And it’s only…” you look at the calendar, “November 10th.”
“I know,” he looks pained, “I’ll make it up to you, sweetheart, I swear.”
“Yeah, for a whole 30 seconds,” you say sarcastically, “can’t wait.”
“Really?” He deadpans, and you have to bite your lip to keep from laughing, “When have I ever gotten off before you did? The first time doesn’t count.”
That does make you laugh. He’d chased you for months and was excited, a little too excited the first time you finally let him in your pants. But he’d dropped to his knees after and definitely made up for being quick on the draw.
Just the thought of him looking up at you between your thighs with those honey-brown eyes nearly makes you whimper.
“You’re right,” you smile, “other than the first time, you’ve never gotten off before me.”
He smirks as he brings the glass up to his lips again.
“I suppose it’s not like I can’t get myself off either,” you sigh again, “it’s just not the same though. My fingers don’t fill me up the way you do.”
“Fuck sweetheart,” he sputters, “you can’t just say things like that.”
“But it’s true,” you shrug before leaning in to whisper, relishing in the way he tenses, “I ordered that bigger plug we talked about. It came in the mail yesterday.”
“Oh yeah?” He croaks, tilting his head to ghost his lips over your jaw.
He’s been obsessed with your ass since he first saw you. You brought up trying anal after he played with your ass during doggy and it’s something the two of you have been working towards.
“Yeah,” you sigh, “I wanted to try it out with you, but I don’t think I can wait that long. I need you, Roo. My fingers, toys…nothing compares to the way your cock feels.”
“Jesus,” he breathes, rising suddenly, “I-I gotta go.”
Your eyes drop and your mouth waters when he reaches for his wallet; his cock is straining against the tight denim.
“I’m sorry,” he grimaces as he throws a 20 on the bar before backing away, “I’ll call you, I promise.”
“Okay,” you shrug as if you couldn’t care less, but your heart races.
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Jake shows up 2 nights later and you barely spare him a glance.
This whole thing is his fault, after all.
He finds you doing inventory in the storage room when there’s a lull in service.
“You mad at me?” He asks, moving your hair aside to kiss the weak spot below your ear.
“No,” you try to keep your voice steady, “I love not hearing from or seeing you for over a week.”
Shit.
You cringe, kicking yourself for letting him see you vulnerable.
He pauses, but only for a moment. “I’m sorry, I’ve been busy with work.”
“Yeah,” you murmur, bending over suddenly to check the bottles of liquor on the lowest shelf, “Me too.”
The new position pushes your ass into Jake’s crotch and his hands instinctively reach for your hips.
“What are you doin’ honey?” He grits out, pulling you back to feel every hard inch of him, “‘sides playing with fire?”
His Texas twang comes out when he’s turned on but you suppress the shiver it brings.
“Inventory,” you reply, straightening to write the number down.
“I miss you,” he whispers, making your heart skip a beat, “and I don’t mean just this,” he finds the sweet spot on your neck again. “But I can’t seem to keep my hands,” his fingers dig into your hips as he ruts against your ass, “or my cock to myself when you’re around.”
“So don’t,” you murmur, turning your head to brush your lips over his, “Please Jake?”
I miss you too.
“I…can’t,” he sighs regretfully, squeezing your hips once more before taking a step back, “I’m sorry, darlin’.”
“Let me guess, you’ll make it up to me when November’s over?” Your eyes narrow as you face him, crossing your arms.
He cringes. “Well…yeah.”
You sigh. “Not sure if I’ll even need you anymore, I’m getting pretty used to my vibrator.”
He backs you up against the shelving and cages you in with his arms. “Does your toy fill you up the way I can?” He emphasizes his question with a roll of his hips. “Does it make you cum over and over until you’re trembling and tears fill your pretty eyes? Do you have to beg? Say ‘please’ for it to stop?”
“No,” your answer is soft and breathy. His eyes dip to your lips as you lean in, “but it doesn’t neglect me for a month over a stupid competition either.”
You duck under his arm and try not to laugh at his heavy sigh as you walk away.
🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜
Another week goes by. Bradley calls once and they each text randomly but keep things PG, not taking the bait when you send suggestive ones back either. Or send dirty pictures. Jake just sent you a 🖕🏻 in response to the picture of your hand down the front of your panties and Bradley left you on read when you sent him a photo of your lace-clad bottom, holding the new plug.
No Nut November is more than halfway over but you’re completely over it.
While the night before Thanksgiving is one of the busiest of the year, you took off to finish preparing for the holiday. You’re hosting the Daggers who aren’t going home or don’t have anyone to go home to.
Everything is good to go a little after 9. With a sigh, you begin to pull the apron over your head but pause with an idea.
Wearing nothing but the apron, you take a picture of your reflection; nipples just visible and your hand running up your inner thigh.
You: Everything’s ready for tomorrow. Wanna come over for a taste test?
Next, you turn around, capturing your bare ass and an innocent look.
You: Too bad the turkey is the only thing getting stuffed tonight.
With a sigh you hop in the shower, not realizing you sent the pictures to them both.
🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜
There’s a knock at the front door as you flick off the water.
“Just a second!” You call, wrapping your towel around you tightly.
“It’s Jake,” he calls back, muffled.
“Come in,” you reply. He knows where the spare is, but still knocks out of respect. “I’m just getting out of the shower.”
“What’s up?” You ask as you come out of the bathroom, the pictures already forgotten.
Jake’s leaning against the wall across, waiting.
“I’m here for that taste test,” he hungrily looks over your bare legs as he pushes off the wall.
“What about the bet?” Your breath catches as he weaves his hands into your hair.
“It’s still on,” he answers before capturing your lips in a dizzying kiss.
“But…” you start when he pulls off your lips to find your neck instead, “What are-“
“I’ll take a cold shower after,” he murmurs against the sensitive skin, making you shiver. “I can’t spend another night without yo-making you feel good.”
Your heart stutters at his Freudian slip.
“Okay,” you whisper, leaning back in. Your legs wrap around his waist when he grabs your bare ass and lifts, carrying you into your room before laying you down on the bed, your phone digging into your back.
He rips the towel open as you reach for the phone, tossing it aside without a glance…or noticing that you hit the call button.
“Oh Jake,” you moan loudly, drowning out the sound of Bradley picking up when he doesn’t hesitate to devour you like the starved man he is. Your hands find his hair as he tongues your cunt and tug when he hones in on your clit.
“I’ve missed this sweet pussy,” he sounds as wrecked as you feel as he brings his hand up, pushing two fingers inside you, his hips slowly rutting against the bed, “dreamed about it every fucking night and woke up hard and wanting you every morning.”
“Y-oh,” a needy whine escapes as he curls his fingers against your g-spot, “you poor thing.”
He pulls his fingers out to slap your clit, making you gasp, clenching around nothing. “Don’t be a brat.”
“You could’ve had me,” your fingers tighten in his hair before pulling him back in, “this was your idea.”
Your eyes fall closed and he groans when he puts his mouth on you again. “Stupid fuckin’ idea.”
“Uh-huh,” you agree, panting. “You’re never doing it again. I won’t allow it.”
“What about Roo?”
Your eyes fly open to see him smirking. “W-what about him?”
“Is he allowed to do it again?” He licks a long, slow stripe through your arousal as he waits for your answer.
You swallow thickly, before slowly shaking your head. “Nope.”
He arches his brow but doesn’t reply, instead doubling his efforts. You release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding when his tongue slides up to your clit, circling while he pushes his fingers back inside you.
“Yeah,” you whine, tugging his hair and grinding against his face, “that’s-that’s good. Just like that, Jake. Keep going, I’m close.”
Jake just moans as you use him. His hips rutting harder but his mouth and fingers keep the same, sweet rhythm until you’re teetering on the edge of release.
But then he gently sucks your clit into his mouth and that’s all it takes to push you over. Your hands pull his hair as your back arches, legs wrapping around his head as you ride out the waves of pleasure.
A low, guttural groan is ripped from his throat as you writhe against him, the sight, the taste and the sounds of your release proving to be too much.
“Fuck,” he pants, resting his head on your trembling thigh with a grimace, “I just lost.”
“You lo-what?” The ability to think straight left when the first brush of his tongue.
“I just came in my fuckin’ pants,” he sighs, his arms shaking as he lifts himself to his knees. Your eyes drop to the wet spot staining his jeans, “I lost.”
A breathy laugh escapes as your toes run over his still semi-hard cock, “Sorry?”
“No you’re not,” he sighs, his eyes darkening, “but you will be.”
The air is pushed from your lungs as he flips you onto your stomach, slapping your ass so hard tears spring to your eyes.
“Hey!” You scrabble to get away from the assault but his hand between your shoulders pushes you back down, “It’s not my fault! I didn’t even touch you!”
“You didn’t,” he agrees, slapping the other ass cheek equally as hard, “but you did tease me at the bar, and send me dirty pictures and-“
“I won’t tell Roo if you won’t!” You rush out when his hand leaves your ass presumably to spank you again.
“It’s a little late for that.”
Both of your heads whip toward your bedroom door where Bradley’s standing, clad in that gaudy Hawaiian print he wears so well, his erection obvious against the confines of the tight-as-sin jeans.
He also knows where your spare is.
His eyes rake over your naked body, smirking as he holds his phone up for the both of you to see. The color leaves your face as you see your name reflected on the screen.
He’s been listening the whole time.
🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜
A/N: Hope you enjoyed part 1! Part 2 should be along in the next few days. Spoiler: the turkey is NOT the only thing getting stuffed 😉
Tagging a few I think may be interested:
@callsigns-haze
@writtingrose
@blindedbythelightt
@phoenix-rising-starbird-one
@dizzybee03
@shanimallina87
@lexixstewart
@hookslove1592
@jessicab1991
@livzblog
@carolina-on-my-mind03
@racerchix21
@that-one-fangirl69
@mrsbradshaw-seresin01
@sydneejean
@xoxabs88xox
@midnightmagpiemama
@its-the-pilot
@kmc1989
@psuedochakra
@fandomology101
@kneelforloki
@djs8891
@mavrellover91
@hotch-meeeeeuppppp
@seitmai
@emerald-jade1
@alwayshave-faith
@thespillingvoid
@glenpowellluver
@lunatygerqueen
@bigstrongpowellheart
#bradley rooster bradshaw#jake hangman seresin#bradley bradshaw#jake seresin#🚫🥜#bradley bradshaw x female reader#bradley bradshaw x you#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#jake hangman seresin x reader#jake seresin x reader
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oh goodness😩🥵
gonna need some of that! yes please!
so so soooo good😏 thank you!!!
Caught In The Act
Bradley Bradshaw x Female Reader
Warnings: MDNI! Adults (18+) only! Smut, unprotected p in v, pussy slapping, dirty talk, use of “good girl”, a like degradation, creampie, etc.
Thank you for the idea @lexixstewart! This one kind of ran away on me again 😂
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
“Perfect,” you murmur as you hit record on your phone, finally getting the angle right where you’ve propped it on the chair.
First, you lay on your back, face tipped towards the camera. Your eyes fall closed as you run your hands down your body, imagining they’re Bradley’s.
Next, you flip onto your stomach, biting your lip as you shift onto your knees, arching your back the way he likes when he takes you from behind.
A smile pulls at your lips when you turn to slowly crawl across the bed, looking back over your shoulder innocently at the phone.
Your heart tugs as you remember why you’re doing this. Starting tomorrow morning, Bradley will be the property of the US Navy for the 3 long months.
But tonight, he’s all yours.
And when he’s going to remember it every time he has a moment alone when you send him the results of what your phone is capturing.
The wrought-iron bars of your bed cool your hands as you grip it, pushing your ass out. The pale pink lace framing it is delicate and innocent-looking; which will drive him crazy with that corruption kink of his.
Arousal races through you, heating your face and settling between your thighs as you think of what he’s going to do when he sees you in this getup. Taking a shaky breath, you look over your shoulder at the phone to get the perfect shot.
“Well, well, well,” Bradley’s voice by the bedroom door makes you jump, “what do we have here?”
“You’re early,” you reply instead of answering, shivering at the way his eyes are roaming hungrily over your body.
“Yep,” he answers, popping the ‘p’ as he pulls his tee shirt over his head, “Wanted to spend as much time inside you-I mean with you before I ship out,” he smiles wolfishly as he kicks off his pants and boxer-briefs before kneeling on the bed, “but it looks like you had other plans.”
He nods to the vibrator you tossed on the bed; you had been planning on taking some videos too. He hasn’t spotted your phone propped up.
“No, I was…,” your lie turns into a gasp as he runs his lips over your shoulder up to your neck, goosebumps rising from the scratch of his mustache.
“Fuck, this is pretty,” he makes you flinch when he snaps the strap of the bra against your shoulder, “You were…?” he prompts.
All thoughts disappear with a breathy sigh when his hands ghost over your sides to cup your breasts, toying with your nipples through the lace before heading lower, “…getting your tight little pussy ready for me?”
“No?” He murmurs against your ear when you fail to respond, “Guess I better do that-oh fuck,” he groans when he dips his fingers between your legs, cock twitching eagerly when he finds the absence of material.
“These are…” he pauses to clear his throat, voice husky and low as his fingers rub slowly over your clit, making your breath catch, “crotchless panties.”
You turn your head to look up at him with big doe eyes before nodding slowly, your recording phone forgotten at his ministrations.
“I thought you were a good girl,” he whispers, leaning in to bite your lower lip, “good girls don’t wear these, sweetheart. Only easy sluts do.”
A shaky whimper escapes and tears fill your eyes as you play the part he loves so much.
“That’s what you really are, huh?” he rasps, biting your shoulder as he guides the head of his cock through your arousal before lining himself up.
“Please don’t tell anyone,” you whisper, lip quivering as you push back onto him.
“Christ,” he groans, eyes falling closed when he bottoms out inside you, “I won’t, sweetheart. Your secret is safe with me.”
“Good,” your demeanor changes as you bring your hand up to pat his ruddy cheek before holding back onto the frame, “Now fuck me like the easy slut I am.”
The air is pushed from your lungs as he obliges; fucking you at a punishing pace and kissing your cervix with each deep stroke.
“Just look at you,” he pants, sliding his hand from your hip to tug at the fabric parting your cheeks before slipping back around to your front, “no one would ever believe you’re a good girl if they could see the way you fuck.”
Yes!” You cry out when he slaps your clit before soothing it with gentle circles, pushing you right to the edge of release. “More baby, please?”
He chuckles as he does it again, but it turns into a punched-out groan when you clench around him suddenly, shuddering as your orgasm rips through you.
“Fuckfuckfuck,” he gasps as you milk him dry.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
“What were you actually doing?” Bradley asks after lying back and pulling you into his arms.
Your eyes widen as you remember your phone. Which is still recording.
“I-uh,” you look up with a sheepish smile, “I was taking pictures to send you on deployment…”
“Mmmm,” he hums, “what’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing,” you reply, “but it was…uh, recording.”
“The whole time?” His spent cock stirs in interest against your thigh.
“The whole time,” you nod, biting your lip.
“You’ll have to send me it,” he smiles slowly, brushing your lips with his before flipping you onto your back, “and this one too.”
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
A/N: kind of forgot what I was supposed to be writing halfway through 🤷🏻♀️ 🥴
Tagging:
@dizzybee03
@its-the-pilot
@hookslove1592
@hisredheadedgoddess28
@atarmychick007
@littlezee80
@k-k0129
@phoenix-rising-starbird-one
@jessicab1991
@djs8891
@lonelysoul50
@mrsevans90
@landpiranha-blog
@bellaireland1981
@shanimallina87
@writtingrose
@fandomology101
@amiets2
@psuedochakra
@lyn-js
@averagereader35
@emma8895eb
@midnightmagpiemama
@blindedbythelightt
@lunatygerqueen
@whitewolfsbitch
@that-daughter-of-hephaestus
@sbdunksblog
@glowingtree
@thelightnddarkness
@seitmai
@skathanstewart
@els-marvelvsp
@glenpowellluver
#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw#bradley bradshaw x you#bradley bradshaw x female reader#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw imagine#jake hangman seresin#jake seresin#top gun maverick
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GIRLLLLLL YES
thank you thank you thank you!!!!! it’s SO GOOD!!!!🥵😩
i would also like to be on a beach a little sunburnt rn😉
Mix It With Rum
Tyler Owens x Female Reader
Warnings: MDNI! Adults (18+) only! Smut, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, exhibitionism (kind of), a single slap on the ass, dirty talk, creampie kink, etc.
Request from @lexixstewart
Song is Rum by Brothers Osborne
﹏❀﹏𓇼﹏❀﹏𓇼﹏❀﹏𓇼﹏❀﹏𓇼 ﹏❀﹏𓇼﹏❀﹏
“Oops,” you giggle as you set the drinks down a little too hard, creamy liquid sloshing over the side.
No one can see you in the little outdoor shower attached to your room so there’s no qualms about licking clean what spilled over your hand.
“Yum,” a sigh escapes you as the cool, sweet flavors of pineapple and coconut hit your tongue. It tastes better than the first one you had earlier, putting you on the right side of tipsy.
After starting the shower, you turn on Spotify and strip off your bikini top, tossing it over the top of the wood surround, and smiling because you know Tyler can see it from the pool where you left him when he’d gotten distracted by a bachelor party talking football.
The most fitting song begins to play as your bottoms join the top and you slide under the lukewarm water, humming along as you rinse the sunscreen and sand from your slightly pink skin.
We came out here to do a whole lotta nothin'
And we're doin' pretty good I think
It was the first full day of your weeklong honeymoon and between wedding planning and storm chasing, the two of you hadn’t had a chance to relax in months. The hot sun, even hotter sex, and beautiful beach are just what you need.
Your hips start to sway as you hum along, pausing only to take another swallow of the addicting drink.
The only one thing we need to worry about
Is fillin' up when the ice cubes clink
After the shampoo is rinsed, you lather your body while the conditioner’s in your hair, your skin so soft and smooth from the sand.
Dippin' our toes in the water
I don't care if it gets any hotter
There’s a loud, wet slap and you whip around to a grinning Tyler, his cheeks flushed from rum and sun.
“Tyler James,” you chide, rubbing the burning handprint he left on your buttcheek, “the pool is right there! Anyone could’ve heard that.”
It's you and me rememberin' how to have fun
Let's put our hearts together
He sings you the words as he drops his swim trunks, his cock thick and hard between his muscular thighs as he takes a long drink from the glass next to yours before stepping through the water, back you straight against the cool, damp wood.
“You’re gonna much more than that later tonight for sneaking away on me, Mrs. Owens,” he smiles as his hands find your ass, taking a handful in each before squeezing tightly; a promise for later. “The only other group out there left when I did,” he continues, leaning close to brush his lips over yours before giving you a teasing kiss, “I made sure it was empty so I could do this.”
“Do wha-oh,” you cut off with a sigh when he drops to his knees, lifting your thigh over his sun-kissed shoulder before he surges forward.
Two parts love and a pinch of good weather
And top it all off with the sun…continues in the background as he unhurriedly and messily uses his tongue, lips, chin, and nose to devour you.
When you nearly knock both half-full glasses off the shelf to steady yourself, an idea comes to mind.
The chilled drink is cool against your heated skin as you slowly pour it over your breasts. Tyler’s eyes have fallen closed so he doesn’t even notice until it hits his tongue.
“Taste so good,” he moans, eyes full of lust as he takes in the view, “nothing could get better than this; my wife’s sweet pussy,” he licks a thick stripe through your arousal, “mixed with my cum from earlier,” his dirty words make you whimper as he wetly laps up the sweet concoction sliding down your stomach, “and piña colada. Fuck.”
He slides one hand up through the mess and the other goes between your thighs as he zeroes in on your clit with his tongue. He taps two fingers on your lips, pushing them inside to suck on when you open your mouth while two slip into your pussy to curl against your g-spot.
And mix it with rum, mm, mm, mm, mm.
Already toeing the edge of your release, the vibrations as he hums along is all it takes for you to fall over; your sounds of pleasure are muted by his fingers.
Tyler doesn’t give you a chance to recover before he rises; your legs wrap around his waist by muscle memory alone when he lifts you.
The low, drawn-out groan when he sinks inside your still-clenching body makes you shiver before he sets a quick, unforgiving pace with his thrusts, revealing how just worked up he is.
“Never gonna let you outta my sight again-fuck!” He grunts against your neck when you tighten around him, “Gonna stay in the room the rest of the trip so I can fill you up any time I want,” he angles his hips to catch your clit with each stroke, “anywhere I want, and any hole I want.”
“Yes,” you breathe, tugging him up by his hair to give him a biting kiss, “Please Ty. I need it-need your cum.”
He groans into your lips as his hips slow into a grind, cock twitching as he releases deep inside you; his triggers yours with a soft cry that he doesn’t bother to muffle.
“Love you,” he pants, pressing his forehead to yours as you catch your breath.
“I love you too. And I want you to have me in any and every way you want,” you smile softly, give him a sweet kiss, “but I’m not staying in the room for the rest of the trip.”
“Alright,” he agrees with a laugh, “so a blow job at the beach and anal in the cabana?”
﹏❀﹏𓇼﹏❀﹏𓇼﹏❀﹏𓇼﹏❀﹏𓇼 ﹏❀﹏𓇼﹏❀﹏
A/N: If you’re wondering where this came from…I would like nothing more than to be a little tipsy, a little sunburnt and a lotta fucked at a beach right now. 😏
As always, any interaction is appreciated but I love knowing what you think in the comments/reblogs.
Tagging who I think may be interested (ignore if you don’t want to read this, I just don’t have a ‘Tyler Owens’ taglist yet):
@lexixstewart (thank you for the idea/prompt 😘 I hope you like it!)
@shanimallina87
@dizzybee03
@phoenix-rising-starbird-one
@bellaireland1981
@blindedbythelightt
@hookslove1592
@seitmai
#tyler owens x fem!reader#tyler owens smut#tyler owens#tyler owens x reader#twisters smut#jake hangman seresin#jake seresin#top gun maverick#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw
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anything! anything at all bob!😩
🕸mm’s kinktober 2024🕷
Lack of Lingerie
(Bob Floyd x Female Reader)
Warnings: Smut. 18+ only! MDNI!
🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸
“What have you got on under here?” Bob’s fingers find your thighs through the high slit of your dress as soon as Cyclone walks away.
Bob had looked like he wanted to devour you when you walked into the venue earlier. His hand on your bare lower back had felt like a brand as he took you around, introducing you to the big wigs.
“You’ll find out,” you murmur, bringing the champagne flute to your mouth, lips quirking at the rapt attention he pays to your painted lips, “later.”
His eyes darken at your response and he’s hot on your heels as you turn to find your table. “A thong maybe? I don’t see any lines. Maybe that green one you wore on Christmas?”
“Could be,” you shrug as he pulls out your chair. “Thank you,” you press a kiss to his cheek that turns pink at Jake’s wolf whistle before taking a seat.
“Or,” he continues lowly as he sits beside you, “that white mesh set? The one from our first weekend away in Big Sur? God, the way it hugged your ass…”
“Maybe,” you lie before thanking the server that’s pouring your water.
The nonchalance is an act; you want nothing more than to reveal your lack of undergarments to him…yet you want to see how far he’ll let you push him.
“Something from our honeymoon?” He leans close to whisper, kissing the sweet spot in your ear while the food is being served. “That little scrap of navy silk?”
“You ripped those with your teeth,” you remind him, thankful for the low lighting that covers your nipples standing at attention, “remember?”
“Oh yeah,” he smirks.
Neither of you would ever forget that.
🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸
“One of those nude ones,” he says as the wait staff brings out dessert, “The ones you say aren’t sexy but everything on you looks sexy. What are they called?”
“No-show,” you reply, “and you’ll have to find out when we get home.”
You try not to smile as he sits back with a sigh.
🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸
���The red lace thong,” he says, clapping politely after the final speech, continuing when you don’t reply, “You remember that one, right? Or what happened the last time you wore it?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you answer with faux confusion, knowing you’re playing with fire as he leads you through the crowd.
“Really?” He murmurs, turning you down a dark hallway before backing you into a hidden alcove. Goosebumps follow his fingers trailing up your thigh. “Do I need to remind you?”
You whimper at the memory of him turning your skin the same shade of red; and the way you flinched every time you sat the days following.
“No,” you whisper, “I remember now.”
“Mmm,” he hums, brushing his lips over yours as his fingers trail higher, “You’ll be getting more than a reminder if you don’t tell me what you’ve got on under here.”
“Why don’t you feel for yourself,” you answer, reaching for his hand to bring it up to your hip, shivering when his fingertips brush over your skin instead of the band of your underwear.
“Fuck,” he breathes, “you’re not wearing any,” he brings his hand around to your bare ass and tsking as he squeezes a handful. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Anything you want,” you reply, nipping his lower lip.
🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸
A/N: ISorry this one is a little shorter. Anyway, I just ♥️ Bob.
Tagging:
@lexixstewart
@dizzybee03
@its-the-pilot
@hisredheadedgoddess28
@atarmychick007
@littlezee80
@k-k0129
@phoenix-rising-starbird-one
@jessicab1991
@lonelysoul50
@landpiranha-blog
@fandomology101
@writtingrose
@rascallyrascalreads
#robert bob floyd#bob floyd x female reader#bob floyd x reader#robert bob floyd x reader#bob floyd fanfiction#bob floyd#mm’s kinktober 2024#jake hangman seresin#jake seresin#top gun maverick
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YEAHHH BABY!!!!! WE’RE BACK IN THE GAME!
can’t waitttt to read more!!! i’m already obsessed!!!!
The Hound’s Pursuit
Chapter 1: Crossroads of Chaos
Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with the movie Triple Frontier and I don’t claim to have created its original characters. The only characters that belong to me are Juniper and JD. This is posted for pure entertainment, and I do not make profit off of this.
Warnings: mentions of violence, language, PTSD (I think), tension between old friends, mentions of dead bodies, anxiety, dread, loss.
Pairing: Will “Ironhead” Miller x Juniper “Hound” Winters
Word Count: 2,629ish
Author’s Note: I hope you all enjoy! I’d love to hear your thoughts on it! A little nervous about this one.
“No,” Juniper’s face sharpened intensely at her older brother’s buddy Santiago from special ops, who breezed in through the door to the bar. “Absolutely not.” She frowned as she observed Santiago searching for the room, and when he spotted the siblings he strutted the rest of the way over to them.
Pope called out to grab her brother’s attention. “Deadeye!”
Juni felt her shoulders tense. Every time this man showed up, some hare-brained scheme was attached and it left her waiting in the wings worried sick about whether or not her brother, friends, and herself would come back in one piece.
JD screwed his face up at her reaction to their friend. He understood her trepidation when it came to Pope showing up out of the blue, but he’d welcome any of his friends with open arms any time. Pope had an over the shoulder laptop bag that he swiftly set down next to a chair on JD's side of the table. Pope set a black plastic clipboard, the kind that had storage once you opened it, down on the table.
Juni eyed it suspiciously, remembering the day he’d come to her and JD to ask for help with the last mission in Brazil taking down the well known criminal powerhouse that was Lorea. They were rich for a few short days. Until they weren’t. The thought of how Redfly’s family was making out crossed her mind.
To Juni, the bar suddenly felt like the locker room at the gym before Benny’s fight, the night Pope gathered them all to sell his scheme. The whole group gathered together, debating whether to trust Pope’s latest get rich scheme or not. Whether they could even achieve it. Juni laid her reservations of the cons outweighing the pros out on the floor before Benny bit at them to focus because he was going into his fight.
She remembered the look Will gave her like it was yesterday. The silent agreement with her solid points. Juni looked back to the clipboard. Unless they were files from the job he’d just come off of, Juniper just knew that meant he was here on business. She’d only ever seen that portable clipboard when he was working.
The last time he’d shown up brought chaotic planning and action. They went from being together, watching Benny fight, to being in Brazil seeing the arsenal Pope had acquired over the years, within 24 hours. She couldn’t shake the feeling that this time was no different. She could smell chaos brewing from that clipboard. The feeling of the heavy weight of her holding Redfly’s body wrapped up made her shudder. The memory of carrying her fallen friend made nausea creep up her throat.
Her mind worked quickly to figure out what Pope could be up to. Could it be Lorea’s son? A family member? Someone Lorea worked closely with wanting revenge? No, the family hadn’t gotten a good enough look at them on the way out. Could it be another big guy Pope had been gunning for since becoming a full time hired gun advisor? She could hear her heartbeat in her ears. Her breathing sped up as all of the endless possibilities sped through her mind. The mumbles of conversation swirled around her and the clinking of the glasses were an ample reminder of the war going on in her mind. The dim lights, almost deafeningly bright.
JD rose from his chair and clapped hands with the subject of Juniper’s ire. The intrusive noise added to her annoyance. “Hey man, good to see ya! Didn’t know you were back in town,” he chuckled, cutting through the tension between his sister and Pope. The men slapped each other on the back and released each other. JD welcomed Pope with an easy grin, oblivious to his sister’s internal battle. All Juniper could feel was dread pooling in her stomach. The last few times he had shown up brought nothing but chaos and extra therapy sessions.
Juni glanced between the clipboard and her brother. Her heart thudded in her chest as she wondered if JD had already been roped into whatever Pope had come here to discuss. Part of her wanted to shield JD from anymore trauma, but she knew he would make his own decision regardless of her fears. During the mission in Brazil, they’d come close to losing everything. She couldn’t let that happen again.
It was like her brother could feel her rising anxiety. JD knew Pope probably had some idea in his head, and considering how the last one ended, it was a shot in the dark on whether he would accept it or not. Despite the warmth of the bar reddening his cheeks, he felt the bite of the cold air of the upper Andes snap at his face and a shot rang out in his head. A flash of Redfly falling forward, and their special ops brother’s blood splattering across his face crossed his mind.
He shook his head and pulled himself out of the memory feeling his breathing begin to slow down and even out from the almost hollow breaths the memory had caused him to take. He rubbed his fingers against his palms trying to get rid of the sweat that had started to push through his pores. A wave of survivor’s guilt hit him. He didn’t blame Pope. It could have happened to any of them. It was just bad luck. He still trusted Pope, but after Redfly, it was a shaky foundation that his blind acceptance stood on. He glanced down before meeting Juni’s gaze.
He looked her over, catching her straight back and the fidgeting of her trigger finger and silently shook his head. Juni felt her chest release ever so slightly when she spotted the slight hesitation in her brother’s eyes. At least she wasn’t about to be barraged with the news that her brother would be heading off on some idiotic mission.
“Yeah it was a last minute thing. I didn’t even know until this morning.” Pope paused to glance in Juniper’s direction. Her face remained unchanged from the foul, unamused look. A slow smirk spread across Pope’s lips. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the ankle biter! How you been, Juni?”
A voice boomed out from by the entryway, “Pope, JD!”
Juniper blanched when she realized who the voice belonged to. Something was off. Benny and Frankie showing up and at the same time as her and her brother, definitely smelled like Pope was up to something. She loved Benny and Frankie like brothers, but they never showed up at the same time unless it was planned. She glared over at JD while he was occupied with the commotion of his brethren showing up.
“Benny boy!” Pope spun around with his arms outstretched, his antagonization of Juniper forgotten. Following behind Benny, the other heathen of the group, Frankie stepped into the bar. Benny’s brother, Will, strode through the door last.
She leaned against the back of her chair and propped her elbow along the top of her seat, observing four out of the five men act like children. Seeing all of them so carefree and happy, even for a few minutes, made a soft grin sprout on her face. As much as Pope’s presence had her on edge, she didn’t really hate him. She just wished he wouldn’t bring trouble around as much. Nothing could ever be a simple visit for Pope.
Catching Will’s eyes glimmering at her between the guys, Juniper’s smile widened at the quietest Miller. She and Will were the most moderately tempered of the group. The ones who had the most control of their tempers, anyhow. Choosing their words carefully, the logistical, analytical thinkers. The observers.
When the group was together, they often sat quietly with each other, keeping a watchful eye on the rest of the troublemaking group. They talked, but more often than not the conversations were non-verbal. Slight nods here, gentle touches there. If there was one thing William Miller was good at doing, it was speaking with his eyes. Will parted his way through the group and opened his arms to her.
Juni stood slowly and moved towards Will. She felt the eyes of her brother and the rest of the gang lock onto her as she returned Will’s open arms. His warm voice caressed her ear as he leaned into the hug, “Junebug.” Goosebumps blossomed down her neck from the sound of the nickname he had given her years ago. Her heart fluttered at the affection.
She was tempted to tell herself that it was a particular mission, or an exact moment that she’d gained a soft spot for Will. But she knew the truth. The second those stony blue eyes batted their lashes at her, she’d been a goner.
With her face tucked into his shoulder, she murmured, “Hey, Will.” His warmth felt like a safety net from Pope’s chaotic presence and the storm that always trailed behind him. The goosebumps continued to sprout along her spine when he splayed his hands on her back, anchoring her.
“So, you less mad that I’m here now?” Pope’s voice cut through the moment, ripping her out of the cocoon of enchantment Will always seemed to wrap her in.
Juniper hesitantly pulled away from Will, the loss of his warmth snapping her back to reality when Pope’s words settled in. “No, actually. I’m not.”
Pope sputtered at her admission.
“Because when you show your face, you’ve got some wild get rich quick scheme that’s dangerous and life threatening.” Everyone’s face darkened when they thought of Brazil.
Pope reached down next to the table and picked up a laptop bag. He laid it on the table, keeping his eyes on his hands, and pushed it toward Juni. Looking up at her through his thick lashes, “but with you there JR,” he turned on the charm but Juni’s face remained sharp, “we’ll have the best Hound on the scent.”
Juni’s heart dropped at his use of her special ops nicknames sending unwanted thoughts and flashes screaming in her mind. Redfly taking too long because he got greedy, messing up the timing of the plan. The Lorea family almost catching them. Crashing in the mountains. She steeled her face and squared her shoulders. Memories of crash landing at the top of the Andes, and the kid from the village attacking them took over her mind. The group almost lost everything the last time. She couldn’t sit and watch it happen again. “Absolutely not.”
Pope’s face became crestfallen at her quick dismissal. Juni’s eyes fell to the floor. She knew Pope was just trying to give them opportunities to make the rest of their lives easy, but the repercussions that inevitably followed weren’t always worth the weight of the risk.
Pope scoffed at her refusal. “C’mon Juni, you're the key to making this work.”
“Me being there the last time didn’t stop anything! What would it stop this time?!”
“That’s exactly why we need you, Juni. To make sure it doesn’t happen again. We both know you’re the best chance we have. Me and the guys are lost without you.”
“Do you honestly think —,” her words began to tumble out in panic. Will placed a hand on her lower back to offer comfort. Benny and Frankie shot each other concerned glances at Juni raising her voice. She was like Will and didn’t do it often. “Getting caught with my pants around my ankles in the fuckin’ jungle isn’t exactly something I wanna do again. I almost didn’t get us out of the tight spot we were in then.”
“You and Benny got outta there just fine! You’re a deadly combo!” Pope continued to lay on the convincing. “You and Will are a fatal pair. If you two knock your heads together on this one, we’ll be set!”
“Pope, what the fuck?” JD yelled when he noticed the military posture pulled out of his sister. A sense of guilt hit him, realizing just how much Pope affected her with his words, and how often he’d let it happen. A sense of protectiveness washed over him toward his sister and he glared at Pope. The bullet scar she carried reminded him of the stakes at hand.
“There’s a reason we called her the Hound, JD.” Pope tried to smooth his proposition to Juni over. “For this one we’d need a little more recon than the last one. She’s the best person for it.”
Juni glanced at Will, his fingers gently rubbing her lower back. There was trepidation in his eyes. He wanted to trust that Pope knew what he was doing, but after Brazil, he wasn’t so sure how far he would jump for Pope anymore. Juni could see that Will was hesitant. She knew exactly what she had to do because no one else would.
“Santiago Garcia, I said no,” her voice was harsh and raw. She grabbed her jacket and purse. Thinking about all the ways whatever Pope’s idea was could go wrong. She gave a sharp look at her brother. “Joseph Winters,” he winced at her tone, “if I even hear the slightest hint that you’re going to go along with whatever his idiotic plan is? So help me god.”
She gave an irritated look to the rest of the group. They should know better after the last time. “We’re not the fucking Avengers.” She paused, hoping the statement would bring everybody back down off the ledge. “We can’t save everyone. Hell, we barely made it out of —,” her voice caught and her hands balled into fists shaking with rage, fingernails digging into her palms — “Brazil alive.”
“Look Juni,” Pope tried to calm her, holding his hands out in surrender. “I get it. But this time is different. I can’t do this without you.” She looked like she was ready to throw a punch, and Benny sidled up next to her and his brother, ready to jump in and stop the fury that was Juniper Winters.
Pope took a step back, seeing the turbulent violence behind her eyes. The air around the group shifted. It popped and crackled with Juni’s anger. Seeing Benny come between them, brought an understanding to the situation he hadn’t had before. He pointed to the laptop, “with that information and any other details you find, you’ll be the most knowledgeable person in the group. You’ll know the terrain, how many people, you’ll have maps and rap sheets, blueprints. Security details. You’ll be the best equipped person to keep us alive.”
Juni stood between Benny and Will, chewing on her lip as she stared at the ground. Pope’s voice softened, making her look up at him. “Meet up with us tomorrow and at least hear me out first.”
Will gave Juni’s waist a soft pinch. She moved her gaze over to him. The look Will was giving her told her he understood her reservations. He squeezed her side, letting Juni know that if she decided to be there, he’d have her back the entire time.
Juni huffed at Pope while holding eye contact with Will. The healed bullet wound gave a phantom throb as she weighed everything. If she went and didn’t like what she heard, she could leave. It would be as simple as that. On the other hand, she wouldn’t be able to watch over her brother if she didn’t go. Or the guys. “Okay, fine.”
Pope prematurely celebrated. “Yes!”
Juni held out a finger to Pope, effectively shutting him up. “But I reserve the right at any time to tell you all you’re a bunch of fuckin’ dumbasses and leave.” She looked through the group, letting her point sink in. Frigid fear of uncertainty freezing her.
#triple frontier fanfiction#triple frontier#will miller fanfic#will miller/ofc#benny miller#frankie morales#santiago pope garcia#fanfiction#fanfic
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😂of course!!!!!! i still haven’t watched it but i’m going to be excited regardless!
Hey everyone! I’m alive! I’ve decided I’m going to expand my writing and the fandoms I’m gonna write for a little bit to maybe help keep things flowing a little bit and spread my writing wings.
I’m going to start with Triple Frontier!
I have kind of a challenge I’ve given to myself and it’s to write a 10 or so chapter story, and I’m in the Triple Frontier phase again.
Think of it as Triple Frontier 2 lol. As always, I do not own the characters from Triple Frontier or the universe, and this is just a work of fanfiction.
Here’s the summary:
In The Hound’s Pursuit, former special ops soldier Juniper “The Hound” Winters is drawn back into the world she left behind when Santiago “Pope” Garcia calls on her for one last high-stakes mission. Known for her unparalleled ability to track and recover anything lost, Juniper reunites with her old team, including the disciplined Will “Ironhead” Miller, with whom she shares an unspoken connection. As tensions rise between them, the mission grows more dangerous, testing their loyalty, their family bonds, and their control over growing feelings that threaten to unravel everything. In this explosive mix of action, intrigue, and romance, Juniper must decide if she can stay true to herself while fighting for her team and navigating the shadows of her past.
Would anyone be interested in reading this?
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YES GIRL YESSSSS IM SO EXCITED!!!!!!
Hey everyone! I’m alive! I’ve decided I’m going to expand my writing and the fandoms I’m gonna write for a little bit to maybe help keep things flowing a little bit and spread my writing wings.
I’m going to start with Triple Frontier!
I have kind of a challenge I’ve given to myself and it’s to write a 10 or so chapter story, and I’m in the Triple Frontier phase again.
Think of it as Triple Frontier 2 lol. As always, I do not own the characters from Triple Frontier or the universe, and this is just a work of fanfiction.
Here’s the summary:
In The Hound’s Pursuit, former special ops soldier Juniper “The Hound” Winters is drawn back into the world she left behind when Santiago “Pope” Garcia calls on her for one last high-stakes mission. Known for her unparalleled ability to track and recover anything lost, Juniper reunites with her old team, including the disciplined Will “Ironhead” Miller, with whom she shares an unspoken connection. As tensions rise between them, the mission grows more dangerous, testing their loyalty, their family bonds, and their control over growing feelings that threaten to unravel everything. In this explosive mix of action, intrigue, and romance, Juniper must decide if she can stay true to herself while fighting for her team and navigating the shadows of her past.
Would anyone be interested in reading this?
#will miller#benny miller#santiago pope garcia#frankie morales#will miller fanfic#triple frontier fanfiction#will miller/ofc
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wow…moving across 2 oceans🫣 i can only imagine! i hope all goes well! and absolutely, your priorities are elsewhere, which is totally okay! no need to rush or cause yourself more stress than i’m sure you’re feeling! whenever you find time, your fans are here i’m sure!😊
i appreciate the sprinkle of writing i’ve been able to read from your TGM list🙃
I SHOULD BE WORKING ON MY BRADLEY BRADSHAW FIC…. BUT NOooOooOOOOooo
Protective Jake Seresin idea sneaks itself into my brain and now I’m like ANOTHER WIP ADDED AWAY FROM MY BRADLEY BRADSHAW FIC and I’m like for fuck’s sake, brain, why? WHY? PLEASE, PLEASE FINISH ONE STORY! PLEASE! I AM BEGGING YOU TO FOCUS!
Meanwhile my brain is like:
(PS: adding warnings of physical altercation, fight, mentions of abuse)
Jake would be so observant. He’d notice right away that something is off, even if you’re quiet already. It could be the subtlest changes, too. Really, anyone else would probably brush it off as you being your usual introvert self, but Jake would disagree. Cause albeit you being the epitome of introvert, there’s such a thing as being too quiet, even for you, and Jake’s blood boils when he catches glimpses of why, and yeah, he’s this cocky asshole like with the biggest self-important ego a pilot can have, but that doesn’t mean he only cares about himself.
Cause what others see as pompous arrogance and show-off-manship is more like confident determination. Becoming a pilot isn’t an easy feat. You gotta have a competitive and confident streak, or else, you won’t last in Navy Aviation. Anyways, below that arrogance, and kind of mistaken self-importance, is a man whose mama raised him right! And she would absolutely smack him over the head if she found out he was looking the other way just because it’s easier to look the other way than step up, right? Because it’s not his problem, right?
But his mama raised a man with some solid core values (and yeah, maybe he hasn’t always lived up to those but when push comes to shove, Jake always does the right thing!), and it’s a fucking flash how it all happens. One second, he’s behind the pool table, looking out the window. And he’s not sure. He’s not 100% sure. But then he remembers that you’ve started wearing long sleeved t-shirts. In fucking California? And that man out there, the one you’re looking at with wide terror-filled eyes, is grabbing your arm a little too harshly for Jake’s liking. And then it’s a fucking flash. One second, Jake is behind the pool table and the next, the Daggers are running after Jake who is sprinting outside, not even waiting for Bob to actually catch the queue that Jake throws off to the side.
And then it’s sand and dust in the air, and for a moment, the Daggers have no fucking clue what is happening. All they hear is Jake growling as he spits out “How does it feel, huh? How does it feel to go against someone your own fucking size? Not a man now, are you?” And it takes Javy and Bradley and Fanboy to drag Jake off whoever he is pummeling into the ground, and to hold him back while Mav gives this stranger an ice-cold glare while Bob and Natasha wrap you in a hug and turn you away. “Don’t you ever lay a hand on her again! You hear me!” Jake yells over his shoulder as the group pulls him back into the Hard Deck, still in a three-to-one hold on Jake.
And your now ex could call the cops. He really could. Jake left his lip split and other parts bruised. But your ex has this feeling that no one will have seen a thing. One thing’s for certain. You never see your ex again after that. But Jake comes around the office often and it’s not just to debrief with the higher ups. “You look good.” Jake smiles softly when he sees you wear a cap-sleeved blouse. And yeah, you’re still quiet. That’s not gonna change. But your eyes are bright when you return his smile with one of your own, a soft “thanks” in tow. And just as Jake gets called into office, he hands you a small paper bag. “Your favorites.” He winks, catches the smile when you pull two cookies from the bag just before he closes the door.
(I was thinking of making this introvert reader who is the private secretary of one of the higher ups, not necessarily Admiral Simpson. But she’s a civilian… and my brain won’t stfu cause ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh… someone tell me to not write this! Tell me to focus on my other WIPs, of which I have… wait, gotta check… 81! EIGHTY-FUCKING-ONE WIPS! CRIES IN WRITER!)
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hi!!! i know we’ve never interacted, but we have a mutual friend @mynameismckenziemae :) so i sometimes catch her reblogs of your things and ohhhh my so glad i caught this one!
as a member of the “i obsess over every protective man” club….please please pleaseeee more protective jake😩 i would love to read more of your writing!
I SHOULD BE WORKING ON MY BRADLEY BRADSHAW FIC…. BUT NOooOooOOOOooo
Protective Jake Seresin idea sneaks itself into my brain and now I’m like ANOTHER WIP ADDED AWAY FROM MY BRADLEY BRADSHAW FIC and I’m like for fuck’s sake, brain, why? WHY? PLEASE, PLEASE FINISH ONE STORY! PLEASE! I AM BEGGING YOU TO FOCUS!
Meanwhile my brain is like:
(PS: adding warnings of physical altercation, fight, mentions of abuse)
Jake would be so observant. He’d notice right away that something is off, even if you’re quiet already. It could be the subtlest changes, too. Really, anyone else would probably brush it off as you being your usual introvert self, but Jake would disagree. Cause albeit you being the epitome of introvert, there’s such a thing as being too quiet, even for you, and Jake’s blood boils when he catches glimpses of why, and yeah, he’s this cocky asshole like with the biggest self-important ego a pilot can have, but that doesn’t mean he only cares about himself.
Cause what others see as pompous arrogance and show-off-manship is more like confident determination. Becoming a pilot isn’t an easy feat. You gotta have a competitive and confident streak, or else, you won’t last in Navy Aviation. Anyways, below that arrogance, and kind of mistaken self-importance, is a man whose mama raised him right! And she would absolutely smack him over the head if she found out he was looking the other way just because it’s easier to look the other way than step up, right? Because it’s not his problem, right?
But his mama raised a man with some solid core values (and yeah, maybe he hasn’t always lived up to those but when push comes to shove, Jake always does the right thing!), and it’s a fucking flash how it all happens. One second, he’s behind the pool table, looking out the window. And he’s not sure. He’s not 100% sure. But then he remembers that you’ve started wearing long sleeved t-shirts. In fucking California? And that man out there, the one you’re looking at with wide terror-filled eyes, is grabbing your arm a little too harshly for Jake’s liking. And then it’s a fucking flash. One second, Jake is behind the pool table and the next, the Daggers are running after Jake who is sprinting outside, not even waiting for Bob to actually catch the queue that Jake throws off to the side.
And then it’s sand and dust in the air, and for a moment, the Daggers have no fucking clue what is happening. All they hear is Jake growling as he spits out “How does it feel, huh? How does it feel to go against someone your own fucking size? Not a man now, are you?” And it takes Javy and Bradley and Fanboy to drag Jake off whoever he is pummeling into the ground, and to hold him back while Mav gives this stranger an ice-cold glare while Bob and Natasha wrap you in a hug and turn you away. “Don’t you ever lay a hand on her again! You hear me!” Jake yells over his shoulder as the group pulls him back into the Hard Deck, still in a three-to-one hold on Jake.
And your now ex could call the cops. He really could. Jake left his lip split and other parts bruised. But your ex has this feeling that no one will have seen a thing. One thing’s for certain. You never see your ex again after that. But Jake comes around the office often and it’s not just to debrief with the higher ups. “You look good.” Jake smiles softly when he sees you wear a cap-sleeved blouse. And yeah, you’re still quiet. That’s not gonna change. But your eyes are bright when you return his smile with one of your own, a soft “thanks” in tow. And just as Jake gets called into office, he hands you a small paper bag. “Your favorites.” He winks, catches the smile when you pull two cookies from the bag just before he closes the door.
(I was thinking of making this introvert reader who is the private secretary of one of the higher ups, not necessarily Admiral Simpson. But she’s a civilian… and my brain won’t stfu cause ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh… someone tell me to not write this! Tell me to focus on my other WIPs, of which I have… wait, gotta check… 81! EIGHTY-FUCKING-ONE WIPS! CRIES IN WRITER!)
#shameless self reblog#shameless self promo#vonny’s writing#reblogs make the tumblr go around#jake seresin#jake hangman seresin#top gun maverick#glen powell#omg please send help cause why brain why!!#writing
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the tags HAHAHA im dying
that’s fair! i watched Twisters 4 times when it first came out and i’m waitinggggg for it to come out on a platform or dvd bc i desperately need to watch it again
🕸mm’s kinktober 2024🕷
Phone Sex // Impact Play // Dom/Sub
(Tyler Owens x Female Reader)
Warnings: Smut below. 18+ only! MDNI!
🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸
The clock reads 7:02 when you walk in the bedroom after your shower and pause.
The house is quiet; Tyler’s still not home.
A sigh leaves you as you fall back on the bed and check your phone. No missed calls. No new texts.
Thunder rumbles in the distance as you unseeingly stare at the ceiling fan, waiting for Tyler.
“Fuck it,” you say after after a few minutes, or maybe an hour, choosing to ignore Tyler’s words from the phone call the night before as you reach into the bedside drawer.
“Should be home tomorrow night by 7, okay?” He said before lowering his voice, “Remember what I told you before I left?”
“Yes sir,” you’d replied, shivering from his low timbre.
“Mmm,” he hummed, pleased. “What was it?”
You could hear he was trying to keep the smile out of his voice.
“No touching what’s yours,” you whispered, “Sir.”
“That’s right,” he responded matter of factly, “and have you? Touched my pretty pussy? Hmmm?”
“No sir,” you answered honestly.
The lonely nights without him had been torture, but you hadn’t.
“Good girl.”
🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸
You knew you’d be in trouble but that was half the fun in the games you and Tyler liked to play.
The first orgasm from your vibrator came quickly and was toe-curlingly good. The second was even better.
And you were on your way to the third when Tyler’s name flashed across your screen.
Your stomach flips like you’re teetering at the top of a roller coaster as you swipe to answer.
“Hey,” you wince at how breathy you sound, “what’s up?”
“I was just about to apologize for being late,” Tyler drawls, “but it sounds like you’re going to be the one apologizing’ tonight.”
Caught in the act, you laugh nervously.
“What-,” you clear your throat, “What do you mean?”
He chuckles lowly, “Don’t be coy with me, little girl.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lie, yet can’t help but rubbing your thighs together.
“How many times? I’m thinking at least twice,” he answers before you can, “You’re only a little out of a breath, and your voice is just getting raspy from those sweet cries you make when you cum.”
“Tyler-I-“
“Sir,” he corrects. “Again. I want to hear it.”
Your brow furrows, “But you said-“
He cuts you off again, “I know what I said and there’s going to be consequences for touching what’s mine.”
Delicious dread fills you at the promise, licking the flame of the desire you’ve been trying to ignore.
“But if were you, I’d take the chance to cum now, because you won’t be again tonight when I get home.”
“I’m sorry,” you plead…while turning the vibrator back on and failing to suppress your gasp.
“Oh you’re nowhere near sorry,” he promises, “but you will be.”
“You said you’d be home by 7,” you argue breathlessly as your orgasm nears.
“I know,” he actually sounds apologetic when he tries to explain, “that’s what I was calling; I got held up-“
“I don’t care,” you interrupt sassily, straddling the edge of your release, “it’s well past 7 and you’re not here. So I’m taking matters into my own-Fuck, Ty!”
His groan is barely audible over your cry but the sweet sound draws out your release.
“Again darlin’,” he murmurs, “again.”
🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸
Too lost in your pleasure to notice the headlights crossing the room, and the rain and wind drown out the sound of truck tires on the gravel.
Tyler ending the phone call without warning is what brings you back to your body.
Goosebumps cover your body as you hear his boots slowly climbing the wooden steps. When he comes into view, your mouth goes dry. He looks so good in his skin-tight Levi’s, rain-soaked tee glued to his chest, and backwards cap on his head.
“Hi,” you can’t help but smile as you rise to your elbows.
“Hi,” he replies, lip itching to smile before he schools his expression.
Your eyes flick to his hands when they begin to unbuckle his belt and you have to fight the urge to run when he pulls it through the loops and wraps it around his right hand.
“Ty-I mean sir,” you laugh nervously as you scramble to sit up while he slowly walks toward the bed at an angle that gives you no way to escape, “what-“
The loud slap of leather hitting his open left palm makes you flinch and answers your unasked question.
“I said there would be consequences for touching what’s mine.”
🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸
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MORE MORE MOREEEE
i desperately need more tyler!!!!! i’ve been DYING for some fics of him😩 absolutely delicious🥵
🕸mm’s kinktober 2024🕷
Phone Sex // Impact Play // Dom/Sub
(Tyler Owens x Female Reader)
Warnings: Smut below. 18+ only! MDNI!
🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸
The clock reads 7:02 when you walk in the bedroom after your shower and pause.
The house is quiet; Tyler’s still not home.
A sigh leaves you as you fall back on the bed and check your phone. No missed calls. No new texts.
Thunder rumbles in the distance as you unseeingly stare at the ceiling fan, waiting for Tyler.
“Fuck it,” you say after after a few minutes, or maybe an hour, choosing to ignore Tyler’s words from the phone call the night before as you reach into the bedside drawer.
“Should be home tomorrow night by 7, okay?” He said before lowering his voice, “Remember what I told you before I left?”
“Yes sir,” you’d replied, shivering from his low timbre.
“Mmm,” he hummed, pleased. “What was it?”
You could hear he was trying to keep the smile out of his voice.
“No touching what’s yours,” you whispered, “Sir.”
“That’s right,” he responded matter of factly, “and have you? Touched my pretty pussy? Hmmm?”
“No sir,” you answered honestly.
The lonely nights without him had been torture, but you hadn’t.
“Good girl.”
🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸
You knew you’d be in trouble but that was half the fun in the games you and Tyler liked to play.
The first orgasm from your vibrator came quickly and was toe-curlingly good. The second was even better.
And you were on your way to the third when Tyler’s name flashed across your screen.
Your stomach flips like you’re teetering at the top of a roller coaster as you swipe to answer.
“Hey,” you wince at how breathy you sound, “what’s up?”
“I was just about to apologize for being late,” Tyler drawls, “but it sounds like you’re going to be the one apologizing’ tonight.”
Caught in the act, you laugh nervously.
“What-,” you clear your throat, “What do you mean?”
He chuckles lowly, “Don’t be coy with me, little girl.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lie, yet can’t help but rubbing your thighs together.
“How many times? I’m thinking at least twice,” he answers before you can, “You’re only a little out of a breath, and your voice is just getting raspy from those sweet cries you make when you cum.”
“Tyler-I-“
“Sir,” he corrects. “Again. I want to hear it.”
Your brow furrows, “But you said-“
He cuts you off again, “I know what I said and there’s going to be consequences for touching what’s mine.”
Delicious dread fills you at the promise, licking the flame of the desire you’ve been trying to ignore.
“But if were you, I’d take the chance to cum now, because you won’t be again tonight when I get home.”
“I’m sorry,” you plead…while turning the vibrator back on and failing to suppress your gasp.
“Oh you’re nowhere near sorry,” he promises, “but you will be.”
“You said you’d be home by 7,” you argue breathlessly as your orgasm nears.
“I know,” he actually sounds apologetic when he tries to explain, “that’s what I was calling; I got held up-“
“I don’t care,” you interrupt sassily, straddling the edge of your release, “it’s well past 7 and you’re not here. So I’m taking matters into my own-Fuck, Ty!”
His groan is barely audible over your cry but the sweet sound draws out your release.
“Again darlin’,” he murmurs, “again.”
🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸
Too lost in your pleasure to notice the headlights crossing the room, and the rain and wind drown out the sound of truck tires on the gravel.
Tyler ending the phone call without warning is what brings you back to your body.
Goosebumps cover your body as you hear his boots slowly climbing the wooden steps. When he comes into view, your mouth goes dry. He looks so good in his skin-tight Levi’s, rain-soaked tee glued to his chest, and backwards cap on his head.
“Hi,” you can’t help but smile as you rise to your elbows.
“Hi,” he replies, lip itching to smile before he schools his expression.
Your eyes flick to his hands when they begin to unbuckle his belt and you have to fight the urge to run when he pulls it through the loops and wraps it around his right hand.
“Ty-I mean sir,” you laugh nervously as you scramble to sit up while he slowly walks toward the bed at an angle that gives you no way to escape, “what-“
The loud slap of leather hitting his open left palm makes you flinch and answers your unasked question.
“I said there would be consequences for touching what’s mine.”
🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸
#tyler owens#tyler owens x reader#tyler owens smut#twisters smut#tyler owens x fem!reader#tyler owens x you#mm’s kinktober 2024#jake hangman seresin#jake seresin#top gun maverick
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GOOD LORD🥵
oh how i have missed you and your writing! i’m glad you’ve found time!🤍
your version of bob will surely, 100% be the death of me one day i swear😩 (i’m not mad abt it!😏)
🕸mm’s kinktober 2024🕷
Handjobs// Breast Worship
(Bob Floyd x Female Reader)
^the picture is for the homecoming vibes alone. The only physical description below is reader has hair long enough to feel between Bob’s fingers.
Warnings: Smut. 18+ only! MDNI!
🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸
Bob Floyd loves everything about your body; the way your hair feels between his fingers, how your eyes fill with tears as his cock pushes between your pretty lips, the way his thumbs fit perfectly in the dimples above your ass when he takes you from behind, how your thighs tighten around your ears when he feasts between them on your sweet pussy like it’s his last meal. But his favorite part?
Your breasts.
The way they feel in his hands, how your nipples tighten at his touch, and God, the sounds you make when you fall apart from his mouth of them alone.
You knew he’d lose his mind when he saw you waiting to pick him up after the endless 3-month deployment in the little sundress that frames them perfectly.
“Hey sweetheart,” he breathes as he drops his bags and pulls you into his arms, “aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”
“God, I’ve missed-“ your reply is cut short when he presses his lips to yours.
Hot, needy arousal pulses through your veins before settling between your thighs as his hands run down your back, settling right above your ass. You almost break away when you feel the heck of your dress tickling your upper thighs, about to reveal your lack of undergarments to the whole squad, but then your tongue touches his and his cock twitches against your belly, and suddenly nothing else matters besides getting him home, fuck, just even to the car…
But a loud wolf-whistle to your left breaks the spell.
When you pull away, Bob’s face is flushed pink, and yours looks the same by the heat rising up your neck.
“You guys can have your hot reunion sex later,” Rooster grins, putting an arm around each of your shoulders, “We promised Nix we’d celebrate her birthday as soon as we’re stateside.”
“We did, didn’t we,” Bob sighs, straightening his glasses and discreetly adjusting himself in his khakis while throwing you an apologetic look.
“Ya mind giving us a ride, darlin’?” Jake asks as he picks up Bob’s larger duffle so he has a free hand to hold yours, “Mickey was the only one smart enough to drive here.”
“Sure,” you smile, wanting to cry but not letting it show.
🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸
“New dress,” Bob observes as he brings you a drink shortly after arriving, shamelessly eyeing your chest.
“Mhmm,” you confirm as your lips wrap around the straw, which catches his gaze next, “You like it?”
He chuckles as he takes a step closer to trail his calloused fingertip over your suddenly-heaving chest, “I love it.”
“Want to see what’s underneath?” You whisper, continuing when he gives an eager nod, “Then meet me in Penny’s bathroom in 5.”
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“Nothing,” Bob breathes against your lips as he cups your breasts through just the thin cotton covering them, “There’s nothing underneath.
“Nope,” you reply breathlessly as he begins to kiss a path down your jaw to your ear.
“God, I missed you so much,” he groans into your ear, making you shiver. “I’ve missed these so much.”
“Yeah?” You sigh, pulling down the front of your dress when he moves lower, kissing down your neck, “Show me how much.”
“Yes ma’am,” he smiles against your clavicle before he pulls back to take a good look at the tits that he’s jerked off to countless times over the past 3 months. “Fuck,” he swallows before leaning in.
“Fuck!” You agree with a hiss as he latches on to your left one, sucking so hard you feel the tug in your pussy while pinching the other. “Yes, baby. Just like that.”
He just groans in reply before releasing it with a pop to soothe the pinched one with his tongue, alternating rough and gentle touches just the way you like.
“Gonna play with these all night,” Bob pants when he takes a second to breathe, his eyes transfixed on his fingers continuing the sweet torture. “Make you cum again and again.”
“I wanna cum now,” you whine softly, hand sliding into his hair to pull him back in. “Please?”
It only takes a few more swipes of his tongue and pulls of his fingers before you’re there. Your mouth falls open with a silent scream as you shutter through your orgasm.
Bob’s kissing you before you can catch your breath, rutting against your hip with desperate moans.
“W-wait,” you put your hand against his chest and he pauses immediately.
“What’s wrong?” He straightens his glasses to look at you, “did-“
“I want you to cum on me,” you interrupt, using the new space between you to undo his pants before pushing them down. Your right hand grasps him while your left trails across your still-bare breasts, “Right here.”
“Fuckkkkk,” he groans, so pent up from the months without you that he’s cumming only after a few pulls.
“Let’s go home,” you say shakily, gathering his warm release on your fingertips before licking it off.
🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸
Tagging some Bob girlies:
@sorchathered
@sweetwhispersofchaos
@getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth
@mrsrobertfloyd5
@charmedkim
@amiets2
@nero4te
@eli2447
@vixenobrian
@86laura11
@daggerspare-standingby
@devil-angel-winchester
@lexixstewart
@phoenix-rising-starbird-one
@seitmai
#robert bob floyd#bob floyd#robert bob floyd x female reader#bob floyd x female reader#robert bob floyd smut#bob floyd smut#mm’s kinktober 2024#jake hangman seresin#jake seresin#top gun maverick
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ahh thank you so much!!! i feel you tho, breathing takes too much time right now😩😅
that is AWFUL! i’m so sorry that guy did that to you! glad your classmates made him feel stupid for it tho! some people are awful😕
bob would have def saved me from the clowns that nearly gave me a heart attack last night lol!
hi!! i know i haven’t been super active, and i apologize for that! but i had an idea!!
i just got back from cedar point w my family and i was wondering if you could do a HalloWeekend type fanfic w bob or jake??
i got so scared from the scare actors at the park that i literally cried (embarrassing and humiliating, i know😩) but i was thinking the reader is scared of the actors and is clinging to bob or jake and of course he protects her and is there for her (unlike how my family was😐) and she repays him somehow later?🤤😁
i know you’re superrrrr super busy w kinktober and work and such, but if you have time i would greatly appreciate this!! thank youuu🫶🏻🤍
Oh you’re fine! I get it-I’ve hardly had time to breathe lately!
Girl. I’m so sorry. I hate when people think other peoples fears are funny.
I’ve been there too. I am TERRIFIED of snakes. When I was in high school at a nature retreat, I backed up when the instructor brought one out and they thought it would be funny to “chase” me around with it. I nearly fell over a chair trying to get away and almost had a panic attack and he thought it was hilarious. Thankfully, my classmates didn’t laugh and made him feel stupid for doing it.
Bob would never 👏🏻 and here’s your request. How you like it!
Smut blow the cut 👇🏻✂️
•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•
“Did you have fun today?” Bob’s cheeks and nose are stained pink from the bite in the air and you’re not sure he’s ever looked cuter. “I sure did.”
It had a been a crisp, but sunny fall day full of fun and laughter at the theme park.
But then the sun set and the spooky actors started to come out and were scaring people left and right. It was only a matter of time before they got to you too and your stomach turned unpleasantly.
“I did,” you give him a small smile before laughing nervously. “You know,” your hand tightens on Bob’s flannel-clad bicep, keeping your eyes down to avoid eye-contact with any of the actors, “It would be really easy for a serial killer to like…sneak in here and like, start stabbing people.”
“Eh, I don’t think so, honey,” Bob chuckles, taking a step as the line moves forward, “we had to go through the metal detectors when we got here, remember?”
“Yeah,” you nod, trying to keep your voice steady as another actor approaches, wearing those black contacts that give you the heebie-jeebies, “but like the actors probably don’t have to go through those, ya know?”
“Probably not,” he agrees, stopping his slow shuffle when he feels your hand shaking, “Are you okay?”
“No,” you whisper weakly as hot, embarrassed tears fill your eyes.
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he murmurs, tucking you into his side. “Excuse me,” he says as he steps forward, guiding you through the crowd.
“What-where are we going?” You ask, burying your head into his a chest as another group of scarers spot you.
“Home,” Bob replies simply. “No, leave her be, she just found out she’s not a fan,” he tells them in a tone that leaves no room for argument.
Usually that time was reserved for you in the bedroom and it makes you shiver for a different reason.
“I’m sorry,” you mumble against his chest, “I don’t know why-“
“Shhh,” he interrupts, mumbling a thanks to the crew who’re giving you a wide berth. “Nothing to be sorry for. Here, we’re at the gate now.”
You sneak a peek, sighing in relief once you’re through the turnstile.
“I really am sorry,” your lip quivers again as you buckle your seatbelt, “I’ve never been a fan of scary movies and I know it’s not real. I don’t know why it scared me like it did.”
“It’s okay, I know you don’t,” Bob assures you, placing his big hand on your knee as shifts his truck into drive, “I was a little surprised you wanted to go today for that reason.”
“I was trying to be brave,” you give him a bashful smile, “thanks for not making fun of me.”
“I would never,” he replies, looking over his shoulder as he merges onto the deserted highway, “not for this at least.”
You laugh, both of you loved to dish out some good-natured teasing.
“That was pretty sexy,” your cheeks heat as you break the comfortable silence a few minutes later, your hand sliding over to his thigh, “you protecting me like that.”
“You know I’d never let anything bad happen to you,” he replies.
“I know,” you murmur, leaning over to kiss his cheek, down to his jaw, back to his ear. “One of the many reasons I love you.”
“Mmm,” he hums as you nip his earlobe, running your hand further up his thigh to find him hard and straining against his jeans.
“This is another reason,” you smile as his breath hitches, “a really big reason.”
“Oh yeah?” His breath hitched as you find the button to his jeans and pull him out a second later.
“Yeah,” you breathe, sucking a light bruise behind his ear before ducking your head.
“Oh,” he sighs as you lap up the precum beading at the head before suckling. “Yeah, like that.”
You hum happily, smiling a little at his breath hitch from the vibration before starting to slowly bob your head.
“That’s it,” he groans, his free hand sliding into your hair when your hand wraps around what you can’t fit into your mouth, “good girl.”
A wet mewl sneaks from you at the praise and you double your efforts, wanting to get him off before you get home.
Soon, he’s getting close; unable to keep his hips still from thrusting up into your mouth. But then his body stiffens, but not because he’s out to cum.
“Fuck,” he curses. putting a little pressure on your head to keep you down. “Stay down, honey. There’s a coming along ‘side us.”
You whimper as your already-wet pussy clenches needily around nothing.
“Naughty girl,” he chuckles breathlessly, knowing you have a thing for getting caught. “Be good for me.”
“Mhmm,” you agree wetly around him, not actually wanting to get in trouble with the law for defiling your man.
Your saliva is starting to drip down his cock and just as you swallow, the truck hits a bump, pushing him to the back of your throat.
“Unnnghhh,” he chokes, cumming without warning.
You sputter but swallow what you can of your reward greedily with a moan.
“Are you okay?” Bob asks, helping you upright after slowing to a stop at the end of your off-ramp, “It snuck up on me.”
“I’m good,” you answer truthfully. “You know I love it when you lose control.”
“God,” he laughs breathlessly giving you a kiss before bumping his forehead against yours. “That was scary but so hot.”
“Now know how I feel,” you smile and give him another kiss.
#bob floyd#robert bob floyd#mm’s answered asks#top gun smut#jake hangman seresin#jake seresin#top gun maverick#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw#jake hangman seresin x reader
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i didn’t realize i missed this chapter too! :(( glad i’ve read it now tho!
“peanut”😭 did you talk to my dad???🤨
jake is the absolute sweetest, 100% in love w him
i swear, your writing is just 😩🤤🫶🏻 so so so good! literally can’t get enough
Anatomy of an Arsonist - FBI!Jake “Hangman” Seresin X FBI Profiler!Reader
Chapter 9 - Things We Lost to the Fire
Series Summary: After nearly being burned alive in a house fire as a child, you now worked as an FBI Special Agent. You have caught some of the worst people with your profiles working hard as the BAU Liaison Agent to the Major Crimes Unit at the FBI's New York field office. When a new case crosses your desk, a chord is struck in you and memories long repressed come flooding back. Is this UNSUB the same man who is responsible for your mother's murder? Or, is there a copycat hell-bent on making you relive the fear that haunted you as a child?
Banner made by me!
Chapter Warnings: murder, nightmare, blood, fire, napalm, misogynistic language, lots of anger, distant/unsupportive parent, working out til near exhaustion, Jake is worried… and flirty
Word Count: 5.0k
Masterlist >> Chapter 8 >> Chapter 10
===
The weight of the weapon was heavy in hand, the steel glinting like a wink in the darkness. Crouched over the body, it was half in the shadow, the limited light creating a ghastly expression on the figure below. The same could be said for the person crouched above her, anger stained his face like the blood stained the carpet, seeping into every pore until it could no longer hold any more.
As the weapon came down, the movements were frenzied, angry. Blood sprayed and even though she was already dead, the rejection still stung. He couldn’t get to her husband so she would have to do. If he couldn’t have her, then no one could. Chest heaving, he stepped back, blood rolling down his face and soaking into the clothing he wore. The first body was a misdirect, this was his target all along.
“She laughed at you,” his thoughts screamed. “She said you were a loser, a nobody. You had a connection, why couldn’t she feel it too?”
He wasn’t sure why this was the way it was, why he was doing this, but his gut screamed something about control and revenge and he went with it, it’s why he was here, wasn’t he?
Whatever the reason, he kept going, taking his time, until he stood up, and a whispering crack of a sound echoed in the otherwise silent house. The lit match dropped, lighting the napalm and gasoline, and cast the room in a golden glow.
Vindication filled his chest, the feeling so swift and intoxicating, he nearly fell to his knees at its headiness. He’d won, she was dead. Melody James, that fucking slut, was crumpled on the floor in a pool of blood so dark it looked black. She was splayed across the living room floor, papers and magazines strewn around her in a chaos that barely made any sense to him.
His grandmother had once said that burning a person sent their souls straight into Hell’s ghostly flames without a chance at redemption, so why not test that theory yet again? The napalm jar was in his pocket, each bundle wrapped in wax paper that was taken out and dropped sticky side down onto her mutilated back. The paper was removed and he pulled a matchbook out. Each strike was like a crack of a whip in the hushed scene, a gruesome reminder that there was evil in this house, and when the matches fell, the smell was seared into his nostrils. Burning flesh, charred hair, singed wood, all mingling into one scent that made him heave. Bile burned his throat but he refused to vomit here.
Melody didn’t deserve that.
Match after match was struck and dropped as he backed out of the house, spraying gasoline as he retreated from the scalding smoky heat and into the warm June air. The door was shut carefully behind and he stood for a few moments to watch the light dancing from the windows before he left, fading into the darkness like a wraith.
He passed by a car, catching sight of the blood staining his face. It made him freeze in place, shock quickly following on the heels of nausea and he couldn’t move.
His body refused to move, his eyes stopping on his hands. They were deep red, dark lines under his nails reminiscent of the lines carved into her back, oozing blood even though the heart no longer beat in time with his own.
The face blurred from the tears in his eyes, salt coursing through the red, revealing the pale skin underneath. His chest heaved, panic bubbling up and his hands balled into fists, feeling fabric under their grip.
How could he have done this? Was he really such a monster that he killed a woman in cold blood? The fabric cooled in his hand, feeling less like a sweater and more like a blanket and the world blurred before catapulting into the darkness.
You shot awake with a gasp, the sudden movement upwards rushing air over your tear-streaked skin, the feeling cold on your flushed skin. What had happened? You glanced at your hands, half expecting them stained with blood, holding a knife, anything but the shaking appendages before you.
The clock on your bedside table read 5:47, the little red dot for your 6:30 alarm blinked at you over and over, reminding you of the time you had left to sleep. You wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon though, not after the rage you had felt in your mind.
Cases could take over the best agents, consume their health and minds, warping them beyond all repair until they are left chasing the ghosts haunting their dreams and thoughts. Tom had warned you of this, his black glasses, perched on his nose as he sat across you after a mistake had nearly cost an agent his life.
“Things will happen in your career, things that you will desperately want to control but will find them just out of reach. Don’t do what I have done, don’t let the ghosts take the beating of your heart from you,” he had said softly. At the time, you had no concept of what he meant, but now it was clear that your mother’s ghost had sensed your unrest, coming screaming into your subconscious along with the others from this case.
You fumbled for your phone, hand catching on the cool glass and you opened it, heart in your throat as you opened your contacts. Your finger hovered over your dad’s number, already hearing him telling you to quit your job, that he never wanted this for you.
But you had to hear his voice telling you that it would be okay. You couldn’t be alone in this.
Swallowing hard, you pressed the screen, watching as it began calling him. “Hello? Peanut? What’s going on?”
“Hey dad.” Your voice was gravelly and it was beyond obvious that you had been crying. “I just needed to hear your voice.”
You heard some scuffling on the other end before he cleared his throat. “What happened?”
Knowing that he disapproved of your job, that he would criticize your choices, you remained silent. Your dad had never approved of the decision to join the FBI, he had walked away from the conversation when you told him. He refused to talk about work with you, refused to even entertain the idea of discussing your mom.
It was too painful for you both, reliving the memories of the worst night of your lives and now, now you were chasing a man just like the one responsible for tearing your family apart.
You couldn’t bear to disappoint him again.
“It’s the anniversary, dad,” you said quietly. “I had a dream about him.”
He was quiet. The kind of quiet that made your heart plummet down down down into your stomach. “Why are you telling me this?”
“B-because dad- I need you…” Your heart was breaking much like your voice. Tears ran down your cheeks, wetting the neckline of your T-shirt, the sinking feeling in your chest dropping deeper with every passing moment. “I need your help.”
“No Peanut. I told you when you started this ridiculous job that I didn’t approve. I know what case you’re working and you need to leave it alone.”
“Dad…”
He didn’t say another word. Not that you had expected anything beyond the “I told you so” he had smacked your wounded heart with, yet it cut far deeper than you had ever imagined.
“I’m sorry I bothered you,” you snapped, ending the call and letting your phone fall to the bed. “His daughter survived, I’m trying to find the bastard who did this to our family and I can’t even get so much as a ‘thank you,’ an ‘I believe in you’?”
You threw the blankets off, storming out of your room, and slammed the door behind yourself. If he couldn’t appreciate the effort you were making to try and find the man responsible for destroying your family, then you would do it alone.
Without his support, you would do this for yourself and by yourself.
But not today.
You felt like your brain had been put into a blender and set to purée. It wouldn’t do to try and find Melody and Nia’s killer while you could barely think about anything other than your own anger towards your father.
That wasn’t going to do anything other than get yourself and your partner killed.
Swallowing the anger threatening to crawl out of your throat, you walked back into your room and grabbed your phone, perching on the edge of your bed. Phone now in hand, you sent off texts to both Mav and Bradley letting them know that you didn’t feel good and that staying home was the best idea for you today.
The problem now had become what to do. You were too agitated to sleep, your body still trembling in barely restrained anger at your dad’s inability to understand why you had to do this, so going back to bed was a nonstarter. You could use your mother’s case file to dive into work and find similarities between it and the James and Schaefer cases, but on the anniversary of her murder, that was going too far.
From what you remembered about your mom, she had been an early bird through and through. You took after your dad, preferring sleep to watching sunrises, but on nights where sleep eluded you, you would wait by the window and watch the dark blues of the sky split into vivid pinks and vibrant oranges and yellows of the morning.
Chewing on your cheek, you left your room again and headed for the living, drawing open the curtains that looked out over the street below and the dawning of the morning. You settled into your chair, curling up into it and pulling the multicolored throw blanket over your feet, content to just sit and watch dawn become day.
It wouldn’t bring her back, but it made you feel closer to her the longer you sat and watched.
Everything was quiet around you, the only sound coming from the starting of cars down on the street, and it was a comforting feeling.
You were still angry at your dad and the bright sun coming up over the horizon did little to stifle the flames licking at your heart. “How could he not understand?” You muttered, brow furrowing. “I’m doing this for her, for us. For the people who need answers.”
Realizing that you would get no answer, you stood, letting the blanket fall to the floor. You had spent nearly twenty minutes sitting in silence and now the sun was beginning to rise higher, blanketing the earth in its light. Your neighbours were now awake too, the fumbling sound that usually accompanied them getting ready in the morning now audible through the walls.
People were starting their days, heading to work, getting ready for class, just starting and here you were, still in the oversized shirt that made up your pajamas, staring blankly at the fridge door like it would tell you what to do next.
Your phone buzzed on the counter, likely Bradley checking in with you, but you ignored it in favor of making coffee. With a deep breath, your hands firmly planted on the countertop in front of you, you made a silent promise to try and do things today the way your mom would have. You would go get breakfast, knowing her preference for blueberry bagels, you would go for a walk, maybe tour a museum, and try to live like you had always wanted to do before the tragedy.
She would drive your actions today and you would let that honor what few memories of her you still had. You would try to let go of your frustration in favor of her, choosing to live your life like she would have wanted, not wallow in grief and sadness.
===
It worked for most of the day.
Even as you wandered through the Met, taking in the many exhibits and wings, something simmered deep inside you and you couldn’t seem to shake it loose.
It grew and grew the more time you spent trying to ignore it and you knew that it would only explode if you didn’t acknowledge it. The kind of anger that buried itself like a worm only to rise like a dragon and bathe the whole world in fury. Your hands shook now, the dragon trying to escape your careful control, and you shoved them into your pockets in favour of peering at a Van Gogh and marveling over the vibrancy of the colors.
You could hold it together a while longer.
Exhibit by exhibit, you tamped down on the feelings. Today was about your mom and you wouldn’t let your foul mood darken her memory. It wasn’t fair to her.
When you left the museum, you were barely hanging onto your anger. Your phone in your pocket had been buzzing for a while now and you figured it was your coworkers checking in, but you were too volatile to do anything but hurry back home.
There, you changed and did your best to calm yourself before heading for the boxing gym most of the agents frequented. If you had your headphones on, no one would approach you, but going there would make it seem like you were faking and quite honestly, you could care less.
The gym was open 24 hours a day nearly all year due to multiple agencies and departments becoming members and using it to chase away the nightmares plaguing their every waking hour. You had been here only a few nights prior, pushing fear back down with every punch thrown. They couldn’t hurt you if you could beat them back.
Choosing the furthest bag in the corner, you dropped your stuff a few feet away and wrapped your hands, cursing as the black wraps tangled and forced you to redo your right hand twice over. Music was blaring through the headphones as you took your position, back facing the room, not wanting to see the curious looks directed your way.
One fist slammed into the bag and another, over and over again until your arms started screaming at you to stop. The bag swung back towards you and you side-stepped it, dancing around it before kicking out at it. Your shin made contact, the loud slapping sound barely heard through the headphones blocking out the real world as you tried to beat your anger out into the faded brown leather.
You were too busy to notice your phone buzzing in your bag. Jake had been trying to get a hold of you all day. He had been worried when Bradley told him that you had called in, something he never thought you capable of, especially when a new case hit. You had been off yesterday; eyes staring unseeing at the pictures in front of you, you lingered slightly longer in the JOC than usual, and you were quiet. Your voice hadn’t corrected him on his errors, didn’t indulge him in his usual teasing.
Bradley had told him in confidence about his worries. Apparently you had been off at the scene yesterday morning, much of the same things he had observed later in the day, but the fact it had also happened at the scene was concerning. He had only been at a few scenes with you, mostly when Bradley was assigned elsewhere, but you were sharp on a crime scene, nothing escaped you.
Something was bothering you and he was going to do his best to get to the bottom of it. So here he was, hurriedly shoving his things back into his bag and all but running towards the elevators in an attempt to find you. Mickey hurled a quip at him as he rushed past, but it had fallen on deaf ears as Jake was halfway out of the room by the time the last word had left the analyst’s lips.
No one had heard from you since 11 that morning, himself included, and he had no idea where you could be. Every text had gone unanswered and Jake felt himself start to weed out some of your favorite places based on your lack of response. He had to laugh as he started reasoning why you wouldn’t be at your favorite cafe because you always texted back while there, he was making a mini-geographical profile, eliminating options because it didn’t fit.
Maybe he was further gone on you than he had previously thought. He had been unsettled when you didn’t show up, restless like live wires were buried just under the surface of his skin. Natasha had bugged him about it, much like she had been doing whenever you came up, but this time was tinged with concern unlike the teasing she so often swung his way.
He was stopped at yet another red light when the thought occurred to him of where you might be hiding. The gym, Merle’s. The boxing gym he’d shown you during your first week with Major Crimes when he was still your partner.
Jake didn’t know why, but he just had a feeling you were there.
Stuck in traffic, he couldn’t do much other than flip his signal light and slowly creep over to the right, heading for the gym.
===
Nearly two hours later, you were still there, fighting out the anger and fear that had crawled under your skin and made its home there. You were twitchy, the feeling of insects scuttling down your body, and you knew it was the fury dripping out of you like the sweat pouring down your face.
People had come and gone, sparing you a near-pitying look as they saw the haunted determination in your expression. They had been where you were, motivated by grief and pain, chasing ghosts hidden from everyone else’s sight but your own.
So you kept to your corner, slamming jab after jab into the leather bag and watching it swing back and forth, spinning as it did. Your knuckles would be bruised beyond measure, hell, they already ached something fierce, but you kept going, trying to pound out every feeling, every fear you had kept bottled up.
It was then when the door swung open, bell tinkling merrily, yet barely heard over the grunts and huffs echoing off the cement walls of the boxing gym. Jake walked in, his own bag in hand, settling at the bag next to you, but paused when he saw how beaten up you looked despite not getting hit. Each dance away from the bag was stilted, half-hearted, your punches were glancing off the bag, sliding to the side with barely a dull thump.
Stepping around to the other side of your bag, Jake caught it on its next swing toward him, holding it back. You barely noticed, taking a weak swing at where the bag would have been had Jake let it swing towards you, then you looked up confused. Catching sight of the blonde across from you, you startled, one hand reaching up to haul your headphones around your neck. “What the fuck?”
“Hey Sweets.”
“Jake… what are you doing?” You stepped over to your bag, stooping to grab your water bottle, and chugged half of it in a few gulps. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”
“Sweets, what time do you think it is?” Jake’s voice was amused, biting back a smile as you just looked at him with your brow furrowed. “Because I’ve been off for an hour now at least.”
“What?” You paused with your bottle halfway to your mouth, just staring at him.
He stepped closer, a hand reaching for your sweaty arm, but stopping just before touching you. “How long have you been here, hmm?”
You ducked your head, not wanting to meet those worried green eyes. “It doesn’t matter, Jake.”
“Yes, it does. You weren’t at work, you didn’t answer any of my texts, and I was worried.” Jake’s hand lifted your chin, forcing you to look him in the eye. “Sweets, what’s going on?”
“It’s nothing. Just an anniversary that has bad memories associated with it,” you said quickly, wrenching your face free from Jake’s grip. “I don’t like talking about it.”
He just nodded, letting his hand drop. You were watching him, wondering when Jake would start asking questions that weren’t his to ask, demanding answers that weren’t his to have, but he didn’t. Jake just headed over to the plastic crate with the pads and grabbed a set before making his way back to you.
It was a strange sight, you, nearly falling over from your exertion and Jake still in his tight blue dress pants and cream collared shirt. Yet it was familiar and comforting in a way. You knew he was checking in on you, trying to get a feel for how you were and it was sweet. Jake had never been shy about how he cared for you, always seeking you out at least once a day to debrief with you about the insanity of your jobs and to make sure you had eaten something during the day.
But right now, he had sought you out after the work day. You had seen how worried he had been when you had noticed him, the emotion creeping over his face, creating furrows in his brow that weren’t natural to the myriad of smile and laugh lines radiating out from the corners of those green eyes that were so often drawn to you. It was a foreign expression to you, a glimpse into something beyond the sunshine that seemed to pour out of him even in the darkest moments.
The look he was giving you was practically the same as when he had demanded that you stay behind when confronting George Cassidy. Fierce and worried in the same breath, a man so desperate to protect a friend that he would risk anger.
And now, wearing his work clothes, Jake stood in front of you with two pads over his hands, motioning for you to engage him. “Sweets, come on. Hit me.”
You just blinked at him, a wave of exhaustion washing over you and you nearly declined on the principle of not hitting a friend when you were still grappling with the ghosts of your childhood. “Jake, c’mon.”
“Hit me, unless you’re too chicken to try.” The worry was fading fast, morphing into the teasing grin that had haunted many waking and slumbering hours. He slapped his hands together, the pads creating a muffled thump when they met, before bringing them up in front of his body. “C’mon honey, show me what you’ve got.”
You slid back into your stance, right foot moving slightly forwards, your hands naturally rising to protect your face. Jake had toed his shoes off, shuffling around the floor in his socks as he circled you, his smirk wider now as you stared at him through the gap in your hands.
A short step forwards and you slammed your fist against the pad in Jake’s left hand, and he stuttered in place. “Can’t handle it, can you?” You taunted, ducking under the half-hearted swing Jake sent over your head. “You call that a punch?”
He met you with the next swing, blocking two jabs you directed at his face, before slamming a pad into your side, with his own smug grin. “What was that, Sweets? You getting cocky on me now?”
You rounded him, biding your time and creeping closer to him, before throwing a combo into his pads, your fists thudding into his hands over and over. Shuffling back, you blocked punch after punch Jake threw, retreating across the near empty gym.
Jake was loving this, you weren’t holding back, fully trusting him to block whatever you threw his way, while countering it with his own blows. Hair was escaping from your ponytail, little wisps standing on their own from the sweat he knew must be dripping from you. Each step you took was measured, each hit you took never knocked you down, and each punch thrown had your full weight behind it, the force nearly sending him stumbling back on many occasions.
“You know what I think?” You called out, your heavy breathing breaking up the question into pieces. “I think I’ve earned my cockiness.” You punctuated the statement by ducking under his arm and lightly tapping two hits against his unguarded side. “Hands up, cowboy.”
“Did you just pull your punches?”
You just tilted your chin, smirking as you countered his combo, your fists finding home in the black padding. “Didn’t want to hurt you. Can’t have my Stud hurting for real.”
That name, that goddamn name. The one that nearly took his knees out from under him every time the syllables danced on your tongue. “Sweets…” Jake nearly growled, throwing more force behind his hits, unbalancing you with their sudden ferocity. “You really should be more careful with that word.”
To your credit, you got your feet back under you and the next punch connected with your forearm in a loud smack. “Or what? What will you do, Jake?”
His steps came closer, each punch now flying faster. Your arms were gone, nearly blown out from overworking them to the point where even bringing them up hurt. “I don’t think it’s anything you could handle, Sweets. Look at you barely able to block a hit anymore…” The look in his eyes was dangerous, daring, but you knew you weren’t about to lose this competition you found yourselves in the middle of.
“I… I can handle more than you think,” you gritted out, grabbing the top of his pad and shoving it away from your face. “I just blocked that, didn’t I?”
Shoving away from the wall you had found yourself backed into, you ran at him, forcing him back. But Jake’s heel hit a bump in the mat behind him and he stumbled, leaning forward in an attempt to catch himself. His hands hit the ground next to your feet and you couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of Jake laying face first on the grimy mat.
“Hey! A little help here, Sweets?” Jake’s ears were turning pink the more you laughed and his embarrassment was noted by you, but it was just too much and you fell backwards to the mat. Propping up on his elbows, Jake watched you clutch at your stomach as you nearly cried of laughter. “It’s not even that funny,” he grumbled, dragging himself into a seated position.
“I-I I’m sorry!” You cried out, a strangled sound leaving your lips as you kept laughing. Eventually after a long while, you sat up, wiping sweat and tears from your face, grinning at the man before you. “I haven’t laughed like that in a long time.”
Jake just grinned back, stretching his leg out to knock your knee a little. “Happy to be of service, Sweets.” His heart was galloping in his chest, thundering at the mere memory of your laughter ringing like a bell around you both. He so rarely saw you laugh as you had just done, letting go of the weight strung from your shoulders in favor of joy. You took everything seriously, especially your job, and with how heavy the air felt around this new case, Jake had seen how you appeared to droop like an unwatered plant.
He had sought you out because he was worried, and he still was, but he knew you would be alright if he kept an eye on you.
But for right now, Jake would take a million moments like this one over anything else. Your laughter echoed in his head and his heart and Jake treasured it. He had made you forget, at least temporarily, what had been weighing you down. He’d do anything for you.
As your breathing evened out, you caught Jake watching you with a small smile on his lips. You ducked your head, smiling to yourself, reveling in the image of Jake chasing you around the gym still in his dress pants. You had always cared for him, your heart skittering every time he directed a compliment your way or even if he looked at you the way he was now. It was hard not to feel exposed under Jake’s stare, hard to feel anything but giddy when you saw those green eyes turned in your direction, but you had shoved those away in favour of building a working relationship that was professional at most.
And now, now you were almost tempted to change your decision, but you couldn’t. Jake had seemingly promised to wait for you and you were silently begging for him to change his mind and demand an answer from you. You wanted him to come clean about how he felt when he looked at you, if only because you were too afraid to do it yourself. You were tired of second-guessing where you stood with him, but too scared to do anything but let your mind wander through all of the possibilities.
Jake kicked your leg again, prompting you to look up at him and the sight nearly stole your breath. The evening sun shone through the gym’s windows, sending beams of light dancing across his face and highlighting the flecks of gold in his eyes. It wreathed his blonde hair in fire, a halo of light shining behind him and you could only stare nearly mesmerized by him. “Sweets?”
“Hmm?”
“I asked what you wanted to do now.” Jake’s voice was quiet, almost like he was worried about disrupting the silence that had fallen between you both. “That is, if you can stand up after this.”
You laughed, shrugging in his direction. “I think you might have to carry me out of here, Jake.” A pause, then you groaned. “I’m not going to be able to walk tomorrow… or lift anything.”
Jake just grinned, heaving himself up from the floor, the pads forgotten where he had sat. “C’mon Sweets, let’s go get something to eat. My treat because you had a shit day.”
Letting him practically lift you from the floor, you nodded. “Sounds perfect to me.”
===
A/N: So after last week’s deep dive into our UNSUB’s mind, welcome back to our regularly scheduled programming! Thank you all for reading!
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#fern writes#fbi au#anatomy of an arsonist#top gun maverick#jake hangman seresin x reader#jake seresin imagine#jake seresin x reader#jake hangman seresin#jake seresin#jake hangman fic
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i’m behind!! i gotta catch up!!
the way that you write his thoughts and actions is AMAZING like actually best writing i’ve ever read.
can’t wait to get inside his head more, it’s so impressive!
Anatomy of an Arsonist - FBI Agent!Jake “Hangman” Seresin X FBI Profiler!Reader
Chapter 8 - All My Troubles on a Burning Pile (UNSUB Chapter)
Series Summary: After nearly being burned alive in a house fire as a child, you now worked as an FBI Special Agent. You have caught some of the worst people with your profiles working hard as the BAU Liaison Agent to the Major Crimes Unit at the FBI's New York field office. When a new case crosses your desk, a chord is struck in you and memories long repressed come flooding back. Is this UNSUB the same man who is responsible for your mother's murder? Or, is there a copycat hell-bent on making you relive the fear that haunted you as a child?
Banner by me!
Chapter Warnings: UNSUB POV!, swearing, blatant misogyny, stalking, talk of serial killers, mention of a child’s death, revisiting the crime scene, taunting notes, B&E, stabbing, murder, arson, etc THIS IS A DARK CHAPTER FOLKS! PLEASE STAY SAFE.
Word Count: 2.9k (it’s a short one!)
Masterlist >> Chapter 7 >> Chapter 9
===
You were right about one thing, he was watching. But he wasn’t watching the house, no. His eyes were fixed on the woman whose bulletproof vest identified her as FBI, the woman who had made it her mission, it seemed, to hunt him down like a dog chasing a fox.
She seemed tireless, he thought distantly. At both scenes, this one and the last, she bounded back and forth between the pigs and the morons combing through each blade of grass, trying to get a bigger picture of what he had really done.
There was one guy there who didn’t belong at the scenes though. A tall mustached man who seemed barely able to follow the directions she gave him, but that was to be expected. The FBI had made him her bodyguard, a man too stupid to be of any real help in this case, so they had strapped a vest on him and told him to be the brawn of the team.
It had to be the only reason why he was there. Otherwise he was just in the way, and it was entirely too fun to watch the woman spin her wheels in frustration while he was 10 steps ahead like always.
This FBI agent, the smart one, was a worthy opponent, but one that would sadly come in last. This was the unfortunate reality of trying to go toe to toe with him, he was just better in all ways that mattered. He had never faced any consequences before, so why would they start affecting him now?
She wasn’t special just because she worked for an agency. More senior detectives had tried and failed to stop him before. Hell, they had hardly come close enough to him. For now, he could be cocky in knowing that she wouldn’t find him. His life might have been falling apart, but this? This would never slip. He took too much pride in knowing how pain could be weaponized, how much satisfaction could be gleaned by simply being better than everyone at everything.
Fire was unruly, uncontained, and he had mastered it. Weaponized it in such a way that they couldn’t possibly know how he killed those women because the fire stole the very evidence of his presence from the scene. How fitting it was to know that even fire bent to his will when so many people doubted he was worth a dime in their presence.
In fact, it was the opposite. He was better. He was doing what no one had done before, and if a few people died, so what? Why did their lives matter to begin with? They weren’t him, and to be honest, the world could use a few less bitches.
For now though, she was an amusement. A small person playing an even smaller role opposite him, and he could care less. She wasn’t worth the energy to kill her and he thought it was funny how she tried when it would make no difference in the end.
Walking back to his car as dawn broke in the east, he tapped his pockets, relishing in the hollow sound the match box made. Hidden among the journalists all jockeying for a better shot, a better quote, he had been invisible, just how he had wanted it. She’d walked right past him and never knew the difference between him and some lookie-loo in the middle of this trash neighborhood.
But he wanted people to know how undeserving they were. Undeserving of his mercy, no matter how much they begged. Undeserving of his time, of his mere presence. He wasn’t a god, no, all gods could pick and choose who died. That’s what they did.
“No,” he thought as he drove off. “I am the god among gods. Those morons of the past, Bundy, Kemper, Gacy, will be compared to me. Not the other way around.”
===
The news broke around lunchtime, a bleach-blonde reporter telling the city via TV screens that another “horrific crime had happened, this time taking a child with it.” Pretending that it was the tragedy his coworkers made it out to be was nauseating, but they had one thing right, the person responsible was on another level of sick.
Now, he didn’t consider himself sick. How could he? His life was falling apart; his wife was leaving him and he had been passed over twice for a promotion he deserved. He was just blowing off a bit of steam, it wasn’t any different than Amanda getting drunk after work or Nathan going clubbing every Friday.
But now he had to stand around with another bunch of morons, all speaking in hushed tones about the savagery of these deaths and listen to their speculation about whether or not this was the same person as the killing a week prior.
Spoiler alert, he thought darkly, it is.
“Can you imagine?” Amanda had said to him. “The pain that that poor man must be going through, losing his wife and his only daughter? It takes a monster to do something like this.” She was fiddling with the dainty chain around her neck and not for the first time, he thought about how it would feel to snap it, how she would struggle under his grip but ultimately fail to free herself.
Instead, he nodded. “I can’t imagine. I can’t believe that someone would do this to anyone. It’s insane to even think about,” he replied, his eyes glued to the TV screen in the break room.
The people around him hummed in agreement. Their voices whirled into talks about David Berkowitz, the Son of Sam killer from the 70s, and he bristled at the comparison. There was a stark difference between us, he thought angrily, the emotion hidden away under a thick mask of concern. Berkowitz was a fat, ugly bastard who claimed he was compelled by a dog to kill, while he was doing this just because he could.
“I disagree though.” Fuck, why had he opened his mouth? Anything he said now would make his coworkers think he wasn’t normal and normal was how he hid in plain sight. “Didn’t Berkowitz just roam around? This guy seems a little more put together, if you catch my drift.”
Nathan, the sniveling know-it-all that he was, coughed from the back of the room. “Actually, I would say this guy is more like the BTK, Dennis Rader. Berkowitz was what the FBI classifies as a ‘disorganized offender’, he just picked people at random, this guy seems to have a plan for how people are killed and when. Just thought you should know.”
He had to roll his eyes at that. Of course Know-it-all Nathan knew how the FBI classified serial killers, so did he. The difference was that he was naturally organized, everything had a spot and it would stay there until needed, so it didn’t matter what his coworker thought he knew.
Mark was next to speak, wondering aloud about the FBI’s presence at the scene. “It’s not Federal land so why are they there?”
No one had an answer for him, so instead the room fell silent as they listened to the details the police knew so far. It wasn’t much, he noted with barely restrained glee, but the announcement of the FBI’s involvement and the brief statement made by her, Special Agent Douglas, only made him more determined than ever to outwit and outlast.
The speculation and theorizing made his head spin, but at the same time, he was being talked about by his coworkers while he was present and the thrill was intoxicating. He was smarter than they thought, and while he wasn’t an idiot by any means, far from it in fact, this was far more than he’d hoped for.
Yes, this was his way of handling stress and regaining control, but it was also a giant fuck you to everyone who had dared look past him. To his wife especially, she had taken off, her clothing and personal effects gone, leaving divorce papers on the table just waiting for his signature. She didn’t understand that she was his and she couldn’t leave him without his say so, but he would be damned if she left him, left his grasp. He was spinning out of control and only by the light of the flames did he feel whole again.
He suffered through the rest of the day, eyes darting to and fro from his laptop and the clock sitting on his desk. It felt like there was a live wire under his skin, writhing and sparking the longer time went on. His knee bounced incessantly, anticipation building in his body until he felt like he would snap in half to release the tension.
The minute the clock changed to show 5pm, he was up and out of his chair so fast his knees hit the underside of the table, sending pens skittering across the surface and onto the floor where they landed with a clatter. Feeling his coworkers' eyes on him, he quickly stuffed his things into his bag and all but ran out the front door, leaving behind the sound of typing and the smell of ink.
His walk back to his car was hurried, each stride moving him closer and closer towards where he wanted to be: the James’ house. He had spent many nights revisiting the Schaefer house, not that he cared to know her name, but had been forced to do so after the news broke nearly a week ago. The scenes were still alive to him, the excitement still palpable even after the crime was long finished, the victim now cold and bare in a morgue’s cooler.
Revisiting was dangerous, it was how many killers before him had been snatched up by the cops, and try as he might to resist, the compulsion was too great to brush off. He had to go back, had to feel the power he had left behind, the fear his victims had left at the same time. He needed to remember his control, how it felt to hold someone’s life in the palm of his hand and watch it drain out of their eyes.
He was nothing without it and he refused to be reduced to nothing.
===
It was a long drive from his office to Brooklyn in rush hour traffic and the longer he sat caught between cars, the more his skin prickled, hair rising to stand on end as anticipation built in his stomach. His hands were sweating, leaving prints behind on the steering wheel and it felt like there were insects crawling along his skin, their tiny treads marking him. It was a strange feeling, his desires caught on a line dangling in front of him like bait on a fish hook.
Gwen Schaefer’s death hadn’t felt like this. The return to the scene hadn’t sent shivers down his spine, hadn’t made his skin crawl when he wasn’t there reliving the events. Something was different and it felt like the first kill all over again, the hiatus making the release that much sweeter. Maybe it was the danger he was attracting, daring to kill again while knowing that the FBI was onto him, or maybe, just maybe, it was the way carving strips from their backs in sheer defiance of the supposed authority over him felt every time.
A car honked behind him, shaking him from his thoughts. “Fucking dick,” he swore, slamming his foot down and driving off, but not before toeing the brakes and making the car behind him slam onto theirs to avoid hitting him.
Who gave a fuck?
The world could do without a few lousy bitches, especially ones who thought they knew better.
Good thing he craved the feel of their blood staining his fingers, savored the screams that were forced back into their throats. It was a good thing he was here to fix it all.
===
Pulling up outside the house, he could see the yellow crime scene tape papering the fence and blocking a section the sidewalk. A remnant of that morning’s horror, but he wasn’t alone. Neighbors were leaving flowers and pictures in a memorial against the fence, blocking off another portion of the sidewalk. Children’s toys lay intermingled with candles and handwritten notes, a silent stand from the neighborhood to remember the lives lost.
It made him sick and the urge to set it alight burned as deeply as the urge to draw a knife across another throat. He should have figured that the sheep around this house would congregate to remember, to mourn.
Pathetic.
“A fire would give you away,” the little voice in his head said, “Do you want to get caught?” He didn’t, so he stayed in the car, pulling a ball cap down his forehead to cover his features in case someone spotted him.
He needed to get closer, needed to smell the smoke, hear the crackling of the fire, so he pulled a notepad out of his work bag, scribbling a note down in blue pen.
“It’s a pity it ended so quickly. I rather enjoyed watching.”
His gloves were pulled on next, careful to avoid leaving behind any trace of who he was, before turning off his car and climbing out, the note carefully folded in half. It found its home behind a bouquet of musty-smelling roses, the cloying scent nearly overwhelming the memory of the fire in his head.
Keeping his head down, he crouched in front of the memorial, eyes closed and let himself fall back into the events of the night before.
It was late when the back door squeaked open, the stove clock reading out the time of 2:15 in its neon green numbers. His heartbeat was loud in his ears, dulling every sound around him as he stepped inside.
In the near dark, he stepped on a child’s shoe, sending him stumbling forwards. He caught himself on the wall, a soft thud coming from his hand finding purchase on the corner. He froze, heart pounding, not in fear but in excitement, the same kind one gets from a drop on a rollercoaster, listening for anything. Footsteps sounded above him, soft treads leaving one room and into another.
This was a risk with the husband home, even more so with kids, but that’s what made the game just that much more rewarding. The house was quiet in the early morning, only a few creaking sounds coming from the house itself. Whether it was waking up or going to sleep for the night made no difference to him, it wouldn’t be here much longer. His eyes caught on penciled marks on the doorframe to the living room, the silvery-gray catching the muted light from the street, a growth chart.
Three kids of varying heights, the tallest barely hip height.
Interesting.
A glob of napalm was slapped against it, the sticky substance taking hold immediately and filling the room with the stench of gasoline. More napalm was spread as thinly as he could across the wall, creating a boundary. In his hand, a water bottle full of gasoline splashed the fluid into the carpet, only needing a match to set it alight.
It was a near perfect trap.
He continued forwards, scoping out the ground floor, and knocking a book end to the carpeted floor in the living room. That one he wasn’t so worried about. It was intentional, soft, barely-there sounds that always made someone question what they had heard and thus, going to investigate. There was a soft murmur of a voice from above him and the footsteps picked up overhead, going back the way that they had come.
He took cover, ducking into the front entryway, leaving behind another trail of gasoline and more napalm atop some magazines positioned next to the curtains, which he hoped would catch fire and spark the whole house.
The footsteps were approaching more clearly now, descending the stairs. A woman’s voice called out for a Nia, a questioning tone that was hushed so as to not wake anyone else in the house.
Pressed against the wall, he could see the woman stop by the living room doorway, her fingers grazing the napalm. She swore as it stuck to her hand, wiping her hands on the t-shirt she wore, and continued moving through the house. When she was but a hair’s breadth away, he pounced, shoving his gloved hand over her mouth and pinching her nose closed.
She struggled under his grip, hands grasping at his face and arms as she tried to free herself. Her feet kicked out, trying to hit him in some way, but he was too strong, too determined.
He grinned as she went limp in his arms, loosening his grip on her, but she brought her elbow back hard, catching him in the sternum. He choked and she bit down on his hand, making him jerk his hand away.
She tried to scream, but he’d recovered quickly, slamming the butt of his knife into the side of her head and sent her slumping to the floor unconscious. He’d had years to perfect this, knew where to hit, knew where to stab, and that’s what he did.
Limp feet caught on the crumpled carpet as he dragged her into the living room, dropping her face down on the carpet in front of the couch. Stepping back, he looked down on her prone figure, eyes staring blankly at the wall. He would have to move her still, but where she was only added to the fantasy.
Blood pooled under her, soaking into the cream coloured carpet and staining it a vibrant crimson. She was utterly still, her breath stolen from her like her voice had been.
He kicked her bare foot out, changing her position ever so slightly. She had to be perfect, not a hair out of place, and so he pulled it back, the elastic band creaking under the force exerted against it.
But it still wasn’t right, she didn’t look like the first one. Hadn’t fallen like she had, but that was to be expected, the first one had fought more than this one had.
Now it was time to get to work.
She had to be perfect.
===
A/N: So that was a chapter… We’ll be back to our regular schedule next week with more of Hopps and Jake. Just an FYI, nursing school started up again for me this week so there might be some weeks without an update in the future due to how little time I have to write at the moment, but I will let you all know. Thank you for reading!
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