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bloodreinasbathwater · 22 days ago

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Xo Xo Gossip Girl

Pairing: Jack Hughes x Gossip Blogger! Reader

Part 1

a:n The way I find myself digging for the perfect chapter gif only to scroll for five minutes and save my favorites is so embarrassing. I'm gonna need his girlfriend to hand over that game card... anyway hope u like this chapter.

word count - 4k

Masterlist Link

GIF by wyattjohnston

...

HOCKEY HEARTBREAK: THE REAL REASON BEHIND THE HUGHES-DEGREGIO SPLIT

Posted by Y/N @ The Daily Whisper | 11:42 PM

Settle in, Whisper Warriors, because do I have some piping hot tea for you tonight.

You know those moments when the universe just hands you the story of the year? Well, last Saturday at Vibe, somewhere between my second cosmopolitan and watching Matt Rempe fail at dancing (yes, that's tea for another day), I quite literally bumped into none other than Serena DeGregio. And let me tell you, after a few shots of liquid courage, Hollywood's newest "it girl" was ready to spill everything about her recent split from hockey's favorite bad boy, Jack Hughes.

Now, we've all seen the headlines: "Hockey Heartthrob and Rising Star Call It Quits." But the real story? It's juicier than your mom's Thanksgiving turkey.

According to Serena, our beloved hockey star couldn't handle being the second name in the relationship. While she was booking Netflix specials and selling out concert venues, Jack was sidelined with a shoulder injury that kept him off the ice for three months. And apparently, watching your girlfriend's face on every billboard in Times Square does things to a man's ego.

"He's still stuck in that high school hockey star mentality," Serena told me, twirling the olive in her martini. "You know the type – peaked at eighteen, never had to grow up because everything came easy."

But here's where I have to play devil's advocate (and maybe it's because I've seen those ice-blue eyes up close at press events). Having covered Jack's career since his rookie year, there's more to him than Serena's bitter pill would have you swallow. This is the same guy who started a youth hockey program in underprivileged neighborhoods. The same player who spent his injury rehab volunteering at children's hospitals. And let's be real – anyone who's seen him handle a puck knows he definitely hasn't peaked.

Maybe it's the journalist in me, but something about this story feels... incomplete. There's always two sides to every breakup, isn't there?

Update coming soon... if I can track down Mr. Hughes for his side of the story 😉

...

Y/N stretched back in her purple velvet office chair, admiring her latest post on the screen. Her "lair," as she liked to call it, was her happy place – fairy lights twinkling across the ceiling, framed magazine covers featuring her biggest stories adorning the coral-painted walls, and her trusty mini-fridge humming softly in the corner, stocked with Diet Coke and chocolate-covered almonds.

The story was already gaining traction, comments pinging faster than she could read them. Her phone buzzed – Alyssa's face lighting up the screen. Y/N smiled, knowing her best friend had probably already devoured every word. As the head of corporate sponsorships at Manhattan's largest sports marketing firm, Alyssa always had the best insider information – and opinions to match.

"Y/N! Have you lost your mind?" Alyssa didn't even wait for a hello. "That post about Jack and Serena is everywhere! My entire office is buzzing about it. The PR team for the Rangers is having a field day."

"Good evening to you too, bestie." Y/N spun lazily in her chair, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips.

"Never mind pleasantries. I have information that's going to make your next post even bigger." Y/N could hear the smile in her voice. "You know that charity gala at The Plaza next weekend? The one my firm is coordinating with?"

Y/N threw her head back and groaned dramatically. The motion made her neck crack, and she absently rubbed it while whining, "Don't rub it in. I've been trying to get press credentials for weeks. Even my usual connections couldn't get me in."

"Well, guess who's not only attending but is being honored for his youth hockey program?"

Y/N shot forward so fast her chair rolled back and hit the wall, rattling her framed cover of Time Magazine. "Jack Hughes."

"Bingo. And since I'm basically running the whole event..." Alyssa paused for dramatic effect. "I happen to have an extra ticket with your name on it. Perks of being best friends with someone who has to make sure all the corporate sponsors play nice with their hockey darlings."

"Shut up!" Y/N leaped out of her chair, nearly tripping over her discarded shoes in excitement. She caught herself on the edge of her desk, sending a stack of press releases flying. "Alyssa Martinez, you beautiful genius! How did you swing that?"

"Let's just say I convinced the foundation board that having an influential blogger there would be good publicity for their youth programs." Alyssa's voice took on a more serious tone. "Though after this post, I might have some explaining to do. You better make this worth it."

Y/N's heart raced as she glanced at her blog post still glowing on the screen, her mind already spinning with possibilities. "Trust me, this is going to be the story of the year."

"I'm counting on it. My reputation is on the line here too, you know. These athletes might be my clients, but you're my best friend. Don't make me regret mixing the two."

"Have I ever let you down before?" Y/N was already opening her notes app, fingers flying across the keyboard.

"There's a first time for everything," Alyssa teased. "So, are you ready to get the other side of the story?"

...

One Week Later

Y/N stood before her full-length mirror, smoothing down the silk of her black dress. Beside her, Alyssa was applying a final coat of mascara, her own black dress a perfect complement with its off-shoulder design.

"Stop overthinking it," Alyssa said, catching Y/N's distant expression in the mirror. "I can literally see the gears turning in your head."

Y/N sighed, fiddling with her delicate silver necklace. The blog post about Jack and Serena had exploded over the past week, becoming her most viral story to date. But something about it had been nagging at her, keeping her up at night as she replayed Serena's words in her mind.

"It's just..." Y/N paused, carefully considering her words. "What if we got it wrong? What if Serena isn't the victim she's making herself out to be?"

Alyssa raised an eyebrow. "Since when do you second-guess a source?"

"Since something doesn't add up." Y/N moved to her vanity, pretending to touch up her subtle smoky eye while her thoughts raced. "I've been doing some digging. Every charity event, every hospital visit, every youth program – Jack Hughes doesn't publicize any of it. His team's PR doesn't even push it. What kind of attention-seeking bad boy does good deeds and keeps them quiet?"

"So you think Serena's lying?"

"I think..." Y/N turned to face her friend, determination settling over her features. "I think she's a scorned ex trying to control the narrative. And maybe... maybe I helped her do it."

Alyssa's lips curved into a knowing smile. "And this sudden crisis of conscience has nothing to do with those ice-blue eyes you mentioned in your post?"

"This isn't about that," Y/N protested, but she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. "This is about the truth. The real story." She grabbed her clutch, checking one last time that her phone and recorder were inside. "Every good journalist knows there are two sides to every story. It's time I found out his."

"Well then," Alyssa linked their arms together, leading them toward the door. "Let's go get your story, Lois Lane."

As they stepped into the waiting car, Y/N's mind was already racing with possibilities. She'd built her career on exposing the truth, even when it wasn't pretty. But tonight felt different. Tonight, she wasn't just chasing a story – she was chasing redemption. And maybe, just maybe, she'd find out who the real Jack Hughes was in the process.

The Plaza Hotel beckoned in the distance, its lights twinkling against the Manhattan skyline like a beacon. Y/N took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come. Bad boy or misunderstood hero, she was going to find out the truth – even if it meant admitting she got it wrong the first time.

...

Jack's pov

Jack's knee wouldn't stop bouncing under the pristine white tablecloth, making the water in his parents' glasses ripple like tiny earthquakes. Luke, ever the annoying little brother, flicked his ear.

"Dude, you're making the whole table shake. What's got you so worked up?" Luke's grin was nothing short of devilish. "Could it be a certain viral blog post about your 'high school mentality'?"

Jack pinched the sensitive spot under Luke's bicep, earning a satisfying yelp. "Shut up, man. At least I didn't trip over my own skates at practice yesterday."

"Boys," Ellen Hughes' warning tone cut through their bickering. She smoothed her navy dress with one hand while giving them both the look – the one that had stopped many locker room fights in their youth. "You're at a charity gala, not the rink. Act like grown men, please?"

"Yes, Mom," they chorused in unison, sharing a quick grin that made their father Jim chuckle behind his menu.

Jack let out a heavy breath, tugging at his bow tie. It felt too tight, like everything else lately – the press, the expectations, the endless questions about Serena. His leg started bouncing again.

"That's it." He pushed back from the table, his chair scraping against the floor. "I need a drink."

"Water," his mother called after him. "You have a speech to give!"

Jack waved in acknowledgment, weaving through the sea of evening gowns and tuxedos. His shoulder twinged – phantom pain from the injury that had started this whole mess. Or maybe it was just his body's reaction to stress. The blog post had been everywhere this week, his phone blowing up with messages from teammates asking if he'd seen it.

He had. Multiple times. Each read made him want to throw his phone into the Hudson.

Reaching the bar, he slumped against the polished marble, pressing his forehead to the cool surface for just a moment. "Water, please," he groaned to the bartender. "Still, not sparkling."

"Trouble in paradise?"

The voice was unfamiliar, tinged with curiosity and something else he couldn't quite place. Jack lifted his head to find a woman in a black dress perched on the barstool next to him, stirring what looked like a cosmopolitan with delicate fingers. She wasn't looking at him directly, but he could see the hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

Before he could respond, a flash of red appeared in his peripheral vision, and he had to fight the urge to groan out loud.

"Jackie!" The voice was unmistakable – Rebekah Chen, Page Six's most persistent reporter. Her red dress matched her lipstick, both as bold as her personality. She latched onto his arm like a barnacle, fake nails digging into his jacket. "I've been trying to reach you all week!"

Jack threw his head back, closing his eyes as if that might make her disappear. "Not today, Rebekah," he muttered, feeling every muscle in his jaw tense. His hand curled around the water glass the bartender had just set down, knuckles white.

"Oh, come on!" She pressed closer, her voice dropping to what she probably thought was a seductive whisper. "Just a few questions. I can help you clear the air about that nasty blog post. Make that gossip guru eat her words." She batted her eyelashes. "All I need is a teensy exclusive about what really happened with Serena."

Jack's laugh was hollow as he extracted his arm from her grip. "Right, because that worked out so well the last time." He took a long drink of water, adam's apple bobbing as he tried to maintain his composure. "No comment, Rebekah. Same as yesterday, and the day before that, and—"

"But Jackie—"

"Not happening." Jack's voice was firm as steel. "There's nothing to say, Rebekah. Not to you, not to anyone."

Rebekah huffed, her red lips turning down into a pout. She opened her mouth to protest again, but something in Jack's expression must have finally gotten through. With a dramatic sigh and flip of her hair, she clicked away on her stilettos, no doubt in search of easier prey.

Jack's shoulders dropped as tension bled out of them. He turned back to the bar, catching the mystery woman in black watching him in the mirror behind the bottles. When their eyes met, she didn't look away.

"That happen often?" she asked, taking a slow sip of her cosmopolitan.

Jack let out a dry laugh, running a hand through his carefully styled hair. "More than I'd like. Apparently, 'no comment' is journalist-speak for 'try harder.'" He paused, studying her reflection. "Though you don't seem like the pushy type."

"Maybe I'm just better at playing the long game." The corner of her mouth quirked up, and she turned to face him properly. "Besides, the real story usually isn't found in ambushing someone at a bar."

"Exactly." He found himself leaning against the bar, angling toward her. There was something about her that made him want to keep talking. "Like this blog post that went viral this week. Everyone's got an opinion about who I am, what I did wrong, but—" He stopped himself, shaking his head. "Sorry, you probably haven't even seen it."

She hummed noncommittally, that almost-smile playing on her lips again. "I might have caught it. Though I tend to be more interested in the stories that don't make headlines."

"Like what?"

"Like why a professional hockey player spends his injury rehab teaching kids to skate in Harlem instead of lounging on some beach somewhere."

Jack blinked, caught off guard. He'd been careful about keeping that quiet. "How did you—"

"Just someone who pays attention," she said, gathering her clutch. "The real story isn't always the loudest one, is it?"

Before Jack could process what she meant, Luke's voice carried across the room. "Jack! Mom says get back here. Speech time!"

The woman in black slid off her barstool with practiced grace. "Sounds like you're needed elsewhere."

"Wait," Jack said, suddenly not wanting her to disappear into the crowd. "I didn't catch your name."

"Y/N," she offered, and for a moment, her smile was full and genuine. "Good luck with your speech, Jack.”

She moved past him, the subtle scent of her perfume lingering. Jack found himself watching her weave through the crowd, his mind replaying their conversation. There had been something different about her – the way she'd asked questions without really asking them, how she'd known about his volunteer work but hadn't tried to use it against him like Rebekah would have.

"Dude." Luke appeared at his elbow, poking him in the ribs. "Stop staring into space. Mom's going to kill us both if you're late for your own award."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming." Jack followed his brother back to their table, but his eyes kept scanning the crowd. He spotted her finally, sliding into a seat near the back beside another woman in black. As if sensing his gaze, she glanced up, raising her cosmopolitan in a small salute.

For the first time in weeks, Jack felt himself genuinely smile.

...

"...and with your continued support, we can make sure every kid who wants to play hockey has that chance, regardless of their circumstances. Thank you."

The ballroom erupted in applause. Jack's shoulders relaxed slightly – public speaking had never been his favorite part of the job, but at least this speech was about something that mattered.

Near the back of the room, Y/N leaned toward Alyssa. "We should go," she whispered, gathering her clutch. "We're not gonna get anything else tonight."

Alyssa nodded, already standing. "At least the champagne was good."

They slipped out as the crowd continued clapping, their heels clicking against the marble floors of The Plaza's ornate lobby. Y/N's mind was already spinning with how she'd write this up – not the puff piece everyone would expect, but something different. Something true.

"Y/N!"

The call echoed through the lobby, making her freeze mid-step. That voice – she'd just been listening to it give a speech about youth hockey programs and second chances.

She turned slowly, Alyssa's hand gripping her arm in surprise. Jack Hughes was jogging toward them, bow tie slightly askew, still slightly breathless from his speech. His hair was ruffled like he'd been running his hands through it, and there was a slight flush to his cheeks that hadn't been there at the bar.

"I—" he started, then seemed to realize he was still slightly out of breath. His hand came up to rest gently on her bare arm, the touch surprisingly warm. "Hey."

Y/N's eyebrows rose. "Hey yourself. Shouldn't you be back there accepting congratulations?"

He waved his free hand dismissively, though he didn't move the one on her arm. "They'll survive without me for a few minutes." His ice-blue eyes darted between her and Alyssa, a mix of nervousness and determination crossing his features. "You should come out with us. Both of you," he added quickly, offering Alyssa a genuine smile. "My teammates are headed to this bar just down the street. Nothing fancy, just... drinks. And conversation."

The way he said 'conversation' made Y/N's pulse quicken. There was weight behind it, meaning she couldn't quite decipher.

"I don't know," she started, but Alyssa cut her off.

"We'd love to," her supposed best friend said, ignoring Y/N's sharp look. "Lead the way, Hughes."

Jack's face broke into a grin that transformed his entire appearance. Gone was the serious hockey player from the podium, replaced by something younger, lighter. "Great! I just need to grab Luke and dodge my parents." He squeezed Y/N's arm gently before letting go. "Don't leave, okay? Five minutes, tops."

He was already backing away, that grin still in place. "Wait for me," he called out, just before turning.

Y/N waited until he was out of earshot before turning to Alyssa. "What are you doing?"

"Getting you the real story," Alyssa smirked, already typing on her phone. "Isn't that what you wanted?"

Y/N opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. She thought about Jack's smile, the warmth of his hand on her arm, the way he'd said 'conversation' like he was offering something more than just drinks and small talk.

"Five minutes," she conceded, trying not to smile at Alyssa's triumphant expression. "But if this backfires, I'm blaming you."

"Honey," Alyssa linked their arms, steering them toward the bar's entrance. "Something tells me this is going to be the best story you've ever written."

...

The bass thrummed through Y/N's bones as they approached the club, the line wrapping around the building like a snake. Jack stayed close to her side, his presence warm and solid as they bypassed the queue entirely.

"Mr. Hughes," the security guard nodded, unhooking the velvet rope without hesitation. "Welcome back."

Inside, bodies packed the dance floor, but Jack navigated them through the crowd with practiced ease. His hand ghosted over Y/N's lower back, guiding her through the maze of people until they reached a raised section cordoned off with another rope. Several men Y/N recognized from hockey highlights were sprawled across the plush booths, drinks already flowing.

"Look who finally made it!" Luke called out, now free of his bow tie and jacket. "We were starting to think Mom trapped you in conversation with the Vanderbilts again."

"Barely escaped," Jack laughed, helping Y/N up the small steps before following. "Everyone, this is Y/N and Alyssa."

The team welcomed them warmly, shuffling to make space. Y/N found herself wedged between Jack and the booth's arm, hyperaware of every point where their bodies touched. Her notebook felt like it was burning a hole in her clutch.

"I'm telling you," one of the players – Miller, according to his heated gesture at his teammate – was saying, "game seven, '94 Finals. Best hockey game ever played."

"You weren't even born yet!" Another player – Thompson – argued back. "2010 Olympics, Canada versus USA. That's peak hockey right there."

"You're both wrong," Luke interjected, leaning forward. "2018 World Juniors, outdoor game. Nothing beats playing in actual snow."

"That's because you scored the winning goal, you biased little shit," Jack laughed, his arm sliding naturally along the booth behind Y/N. The movement brought him closer, his cologne mixing with the lingering scent of his aftershave.

"What about you?" he asked, turning those blue eyes on her. "You follow hockey long?"

"My dad used to play," she found herself saying truthfully. "Nothing professional, just beer league, but he loved it. Taught me to skate before I could walk."

Something in Jack's expression softened. "Mine too. Well, him and my mom..." He shifted, angling toward her more fully. "It's different now though, isn't it? The pressure. Everyone watching, waiting for you to mess up. Luke and Quinn, they get it, but we're barely home at the same time anymore. Summer's all we got, really. And even then..." He trailed off, vulnerability flickering across his features in the dim light.

Y/N's chest tightened. This wasn't the cocky player from the tabloids or the bitter ex-boyfriend from Serena's story. This was just... Jack. Raw and real and trusting her with pieces of himself she had no right to.

"I need a drink," she blurted, already sliding out of the booth. "Excuse me."

She practically fled to the bar, gripping the edge of it when she reached it. "Whiskey sour," she managed when the bartender looked her way. "Strong."

"Oh my god, Y/N!"

She turned to find Rebekah Chen stumbling slightly, clearly several drinks in. Her red dress was slightly askew, her lipstick smudged at one corner.

"Is Jack here?!" Rebekah's voice pitched high with excitement.

"No," Y/N said firmly, accepting her drink from the bartender. "He's not."

"Ugh." Rebekah deflated, then perked up again almost instantly. "But oh my god, you'll never believe what Serena told me about him." She leaned in conspiratorially, alcohol heavy on her breath. "He's a total player. Like, major cheater. She said he was always sliding into girls' DMs when they were together, coming to places like this..." She gestured around the club. "Getting with random girls behind her back."

Y/N's eyes widened despite herself. The Jack she'd just left didn't seem capable of that kind of betrayal, but...

"Yeah!" Rebekah pressed on, encouraged by Y/N's reaction. "Serena has receipts too. Screenshots, dates, everything. She's just waiting for the right moment to release them." She swayed slightly. "Guess the golden boy isn't so golden after all, right?"

Y/N's drink suddenly felt heavy in her hand. Behind her, she could hear Jack's laugh carrying over the music, warm and genuine. She thought about how carefully he'd helped her through the crowd, how softly he'd spoken about his brothers.

How absolutely screwed she was if she was starting to believe in him.

...

Tag List <3

message me to be added!

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whotfelsewantedtobelynnyx · 9 months ago

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DIHWYF Incorrect Quotes but it's mild Carmine sisters chaos

Because ✨sisters ✨

Clara, staring at newly adopted Vaggie: Um...want a beer?

Odette: She's like...five!

Clara: I DUNNO, WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH HER?!

Clara: I'M BREAKING THE WINDOW!

Odette, whispering into her phone: Uh, hi- we locked our baby sister in the car and people are judging us.

Clara, now running around looking for a rock: I SWEAR TO GOD I'M GONNA BREAK IT!

Odette, whirling around: DO NOT BREAK THE WINDOW, YOU'LL GET GLASS ON HER!

Odette: But if you keep making up words, no one will understand you.

Young Vaggie: Clara will. Watch. *tugs on Clara's arm*

Clara: Yeah, squirt?

Vaggie: *complete gibberish*

Clara, immediately playing along: Whoa, are you serious?

Vaggie: *more gibberish*

Clara: I'd never considered that before!

Vaggie: *very serious gibberish*

Clara, patting her head: This changes everything.

Odette, facepalming: You're both crazy.

*Odette, spotting Vaggie trying to sneak out of her bedroom: Oh, not again. Come on, go back to bed before Mamá sees you.

Vaggie: But I don't want to go to bed!

Odette: Too bad, manita.

Vaggie, pouting: Why do I have to go to sleep? Why can't I just stay awake all night?

Odette, sighing and getting up to walk her back bed: Because that's the way the world is.

Vaggie: Well I'm going to make it so that's not how the world is!

Odette, tucking her in: That sounds like a big job. You're gonna need a full night's sleep for that.

Vaggie: Yeah, I will! *triumphantly snuggles in*

Vaggie, ten minutes later: Hey, wait a second-

Vaggie, curled up in front of the fridge: :(

Clara, spotting her: You alright, hermana?

Vaggie, sadly: I just miss Odette**.

Clara, sitting down next to her: Aw, I know.

Vaggie: And the fridge doesn't like me :(

Clara: I...know?

*Odette: Bed. Sleep. Now.

Vaggie, trying to hide behind Clara: But I'm not tired!

Clara: Yeah, 'Dette, she's not tired!

*they're both asleep in Clara's bed in ten minutes later*

Clara, snuggling lil' Vaggie: Big sister's going to drop-kick anyone that touches you 🥰

Odette, without missing a beat: And bigger sister's going to bail big sister out of jail.

Carmilla, cuddling Vaggie after she tripped and fell: I know it's tough, mija. But hey, how many times have you bumped your head or gotten a bruise while you're playing with your sisters?

Vaggie, holding an ice pack on her knee: Um...lots.

Carmilla: Right. And what do they always tell you?

Vaggie: ...don't tell Mamá?

Carmilla, who was fully expecting a different answer: What?!

Clara, who'd walked into the room to check on her little sister: Uh...I'll maybe come back later?

Clara, holding an ice pack to her sister's head: How much do you remember?

Teenage Vaggie, who'd just gotten into her first fight: Just the ambulance ride to the hospital, I think.

Odette: That wasn't an ambulance ride, I drove you.

Vaggie: But I heard sirens?

Clara: That was your girlfriend.

Charlie, clutching the largest teddy bear the hospital sold***: I got nervous!

Charlie, fresh into their relationship: If something happened to Vaggie, I...I couldn't live with myself.

Odette, completely straight faced: You wouldn't have to. Clara and I would kill you.

Vaggie, trying to sneak off with Charlie at a party: Guys, I need your help.

Clara: Oooh, ok. I have an idea.

Odette: Is it a bad idea?

Clara: *darts off in Velvette's direction*

Odette, jumping up to chase after her: CLARA, IS IT A BAD IDEA-****

Vaggie, walking by with a teapot:

Clara: Whatcha doing?

Vaggie: It's for Zestial. I'm planning on making some bad choices tonight and I want him on my side when Mom finds out.

Clara: Oooh, smart. I'll have to remember that.

Odette, not looking up from her laptop: I never realized the forethought that went into raising our mother's blood pressure.

BONUS:

Carmilla, trying to calm Lucifer down after he came to her for advice about Charlie: Look, I've raised three fully functional, well adjusted children and-

Luci, sniffling: You have three kids I don't know about?

Carmilla: ...

BECAUSE I LOVE THEM ALL

Here's a link to the AU!

*these exchanges definitely took place less than an hour apart.

**Odette is fine, she's just on a business trip and her sisters are sad.

***That bear is not for Vaggie. She has a different one for Vaggie. The older Carmines got her that so she would calm the fuck down

****is this a hint as to how Charlie and Vaggie meet? 🤫

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triptuckers · 4 months ago

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here when you wake up - remy lebeau

Request: nope Pairing: remy lebeau x reader Summary: your errands are rudely and violently interrupted, but luckily the x-men are never far Warnings: *cracks knuckles* fighting, violence, blood, death, angst, injuries, mentions of hospitals, guns and gunshots, blacking out/losing consiousness, there’s a robery and I think that’s all whew (sorry. get ready) Word count: 2k A/N: “ooohh this trope is overused” no it is not and I will die on this hill. enjoy!

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

as you're walking through the busy street, you mentally curse yourself for not going to the bank beforegetting your groceries. and you wish you had taken a bigger bag with you.

you're holding your bag in one hand but it's heavy, and you're slightly tilted to your right side as you walk. every now and then you have to stop to shove a box of pasta back in there so it doesn't fall out.

you just really hope there isn't a huge line at the bank. right now, you just want to get home. remy is coming over tonight and he's going to teach you how to make one of his signature recipes.

as you round the corner and see the bank, you sigh when you see the line is so long people are waiting outside. of course everyone had decided to go to the bank today.

you take your place in line behind the last person, hoping the line will at least move quickly so you can go home and put your groceries away.

the line moves slowly until finally you're actually inside the bank. you stand on your toes to look at the desks ahead and see the reason why the line is moving so slow: only half of the desks have employees sitting behind them.

you're seriously doubting going home and going to the bank tomorrow. but you're about halfway through the line now, you might as well stay. even if it meant your milk being outside the fridge for a while longer.

you're zoning out, occasionally shuffling forward in line, when you hear a commotion behind you.

as you look over your shoulder, you see a group of masked people shove their way into the bank. you're about to roll your eyes and turn back when you notice one of them is holding a very large, very dangerous looking gun.

of course they had to pick today.

as more people realise what's going on, panic spreads as people start to scream and run away. you drop your bag of groceries and run away, towards the desks and away from the armed men.

one of the employees shoots you a terrified look as you jump over the desk, pulling her down with you.

that's when the gunfire starts.

you squeeze your eyes shut and clamp your hands over your ears, trying to drown out the sounds of bullets hitting flesh and bodies dropping.

you feel someone grab a hold of your arm and open your eyes slightly to see the bank employee clutching your arm, a terrified expression on her face that mirrors your own.

'it's gonna be okay.' you whisper, hoping you sound braver than you feel. 'what's your name?'

'katie.' she says.

you notice she's not much older than you.

'I'm y/n. we'll get through this okay?' you say and katie nods at your words. 'we're just going to stay here and keep silent.'

you shuffle closer to her beneath the desk, as the gunfire finally stops. katie shoots you a terrified look as you put you hand over your nose and mouth, trying to silence the sound of your rapid breathing.

'we'll be in and out!' yells an unfamiliar voice from somewhere in the bank. 'just need an employee to help us out.'

you hear the sounds of several people walking around, mixed with the sounds of people breathing heavily. you're too scared to think about how many people are bleeding on the floor.

'no one wants to volunteer?' says the same voice. 'how about we play a little hide and seek?'

you and katie try to stay as silent as possible, holding onto each other, as the sound of footsteps comes closer. eventually, they stop. way too close to you.

suddenly, a face appears over the edge of the desk above you. you can't help but to let out a small, frightened yelp.

'got ya!' says the masked man above you.

his head tilts towards katie. even though he's wearing a mask, you can see him smile.

'hello miss...' he leans in closer to katie, who's got silent tears running down her cheeks, dripping from her chin onto her uniform. 'katie. what a lovely name, want to help us out?'

both you and katie are frozen in fear. then the man suddenly grabs a hold of katie's arm and pulls her up.

'no!' you yell, reaching out to grab a hold of her other hand.

but the robber slams the back of his gun into your head. you fall back, pressing a hand to your forehead. it comes away sticky with blood.

you see how katie struggles in the guy's arms. she manages to hit him in the eye and he swears and drops her arm. just as she runs away, the sound of a gun being fired fills the room and katie crumbles to the floor.

you watch in horror as she looks at you, seems the mumble something, before she stops moving at all. you're breathing heavily, your eyes glued to hers.

there's more commotion outside, but your eyes are still on katie.

suddenly, the sound of many guns fill the air and you tear your eyes away from the girl in front of you. you see a flash of red.

you crawl over to the other side of the desk and look around it. the red flash was scott. you recognise him in his signature cyclops suit. if the x-men are here, maybe that means-

'oh, you gon' pay for that, mon ami!'

you swear you burst into tears again at the sound of remy's voice. you say his name, but it comes out as barely a whisper, and the sounds in the room are so loud.

you close your eyes and pull your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them. you desperately wish for all of this to be over. you wish it was all a bad dream and you'd wake up.

suddenly, a harsh hand grabs a hold of your arm and pulls you to your feet. an arm encircles your body, holding you firmly against a chest. you let out a gasp of surprise as you feel a gun being pressed to your temple.

you close your eyes, not wanting to see anything. it's a bad decision. it makes you focus on the sounds in the room and the feel of the cold gun against your skin.

'chéri!' comes remy's familiar voice.

you open your eyes and see him standing a few feet away, card at the ready between his fingers.

'what are you doing here?' he says.

you look into his eyes, focusing on them. you want to answer him, but it's like you lost your ability to talk.

'let her go!' says remy, dangerously twirling the card between his fingers.

'here's what's going to happen.' comes your attacker's voice from behind you. 'I am going to walk out of here with this pretty lady, and you two are going to let me. If I see you move, she's dead.'

you whimper in fear as the guy starts slowly walking towards the exit, pulling you with him.

remy and scott both look at you, but stand still. they know the risk is too great. but you don't miss the look of absolute loathing remy gives your capturer. then his eyes soften as they land on you. he nods at you, as if trying to tell you it'll all be alright.

as soon as you're outside, you're pulled into an alley, away from the curious onlookers on the other side of the street.

'those damn mutants ruin everything.' says the guy in your ear.

you hear running footsteps behind you.

'I said move and she's dead!' yells the robber.

in one quick move, he turns you around and you see remy sprinting towards you.

the next moment, you see remy throw a card your way at the same time you feel something hard and cold against your head and the world goes black.

when you open your eyes again, bright lights shine in your face. you squeeze them shut, noticing the way your head is pounding. slowly, you open your eyes again, letting them adjust to the light.

once you can look around without the bright lights irritating you, you take in your surroundings. you appear to be in a hospital. you can hear the faint beeping of a monitor on your right.

the view out the window shows a bright sunny day, and some of the tall buildings in the city. you slowly reach your hand up. you feel a bandage encircling your head. from the way your head is pounding, you can tell the guy really hit you hard in the head.

when you look to your left, your eyes land on a chair next to your bed. or rather, the person in it.

it looks like remy didn’t go back to the mansion after the robbery. his suit is dirty, as are his fingers. his hair is a mess, and from the way he’s sitting in the chair, you can tell his back is going to hurt.

he’s fast asleep.

‘you look lke shit.’

at the sound of your voice, remy wakes. he blinks a few times before sitting up straight, rolling his head from side to side to ease some of the stiffness in his neck.

‘quoi?’ he says, crossing his arms over his chest and closing his eyes to go back to sleep.

‘I said you look like shit.’ you repeat.

remy’s eyes snap open suddenly as he looks at you. instantly, he’s by your side.

‘I look like shit? you’re the one in a hospital bed, mon amour.’

you smile tiredly at him, reaching out to lace your fingers with his. remy runs his thumb over the back of your hand.

‘it’s good you still have your sense of humor, but you scared me, chéri.’ he admits softly.

‘I’m sorry, my love. I didn’t mean to.’

‘it was real close. when that guy hit you in the head and I saw you fall to the floor… merde, it was awful. luckily we got beast. he helped the doctors here.’

‘give him my thanks, will you?’

remy nods, bringing your hand up to kiss the back of it. he eyes the bandage on your head.

‘how are you feeling?’

‘I’ve got a pounding headache. I’m tired. besides that, I’m okay.’

remy looks at you, and you can tell there’s something on his mind. he’d never been good about hiding his thoughts from you.

‘what’s on your mind, love?’ you say.

‘come live at the mansion with me.’ he says.

‘what?’ you chuckle.

‘I’m serious. if we hadn’t showed up on time, I don’t want to think about what could have happened. come live at the mansion with me, you’d be safe. and I’m tired of seeing you only when our schedules line up.’

you look him in the eye. remy smiles at you. he’s really serious about this. he wants you to move in with him. to move to the mansion where he lives with his fellow mutants.

‘remy, I’m not with the x-men, I’m not a mutant.’

‘you don’t have to be.’

‘what would I even do there?’

‘teach the kids?’

‘teach them what?’

‘we’ll find something.’

‘remy… you’re really serious?’

he leans in and kisses your forehead. you close your eyes, savoring the feeling of his lips against your skin.

‘oui, chéri, I’m serious. I don’t want to be apart from you.’

‘and the team is okay with it?’

‘they will be.’

‘why am I not surprised you haven’t asked them yet?’

‘come on, they love you. I’m sure the kids will, too. we’ll find something for you to do, I promise. I just want want to be away from you.’

‘alright. we’ll talk it over with scott and jean. and I’ll have to talk to my boss and my landlord. we’ll figure it out.’

remy smiles at you and kisses your hand again. ‘get some rest, mon amour. I’ll be here when you wake up.’

A/N: thanks for reading! everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. please do not copy, translate, plagiarise or repost my work! some of these are requested by other people and I spend a lot of time and effort on my works <3 much love, marit

#remy lebeau #remy lebeau x reader #remy lebeau fanfiction #remy lebeau fanfic #remy lebeau fanfics #remy lebeau fic #remy lebeau fics #remy lebeau oneshot #gambit #gambit x reader #gambit x you #gambit fanfiction #gambit fanfic #gambit fanfics #gambit fic #gambit fics #gambit oneshot

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sreegs · 1 year ago

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If you have a slow cooker, some butter, and a bag of sweet onions, and some patience, you can make the easiest and best caramelized onions in your life. The slow cooker method ensures you don't have to watch your onions to make sure they're not burning. I've posted this a couple times but I'm gonna write the recipe down here.

This is so damn easy. It's also nearly impossible to fuck up. It also scales well.

A few notes on ingredients first:

You should use sweet onions or vidalia onions. These have a higher sugar content than yellow or white. You can also mix sweet/vidalia with red onions as well. Spanish onions can substitute sweet/vidalia.

This recipe presumes you're using sweet onions that are on the larger side, bigger than your fist. If your onions are smaller I'd say say three smalls equal two large.

I usually eyeball the ingredients, but you will be using roughly a teaspoon (5g) of butter per large onion.

What you need:

Slow cooker

6 large sweet onions

2 tablespoons (30g) of butter, plus more for adjustments

Salt as needed

Instructions:

Remove the onion skins and slice your onions as you want. I prefer to french my onions but you can cut them into half moons. Precision doesn't matter, but don't cut them too finely.

Turn on your slow cooker to high and set it for 8 hours. Cook time will vary.

Toss the butter and sliced onions into the slow cooker. Once the butter melts, mix it around to distribute the butter. If there's still onions that don't get buttered up after melting and mixing, add a bit more butter.

Salt as desired. I do two heavy pinches (approx 1 teaspoon) for 6 onions.

Put the lid on the slow cooker and let it cook undisturbed for 8 hours.

After the 8 hour cook:

Ok decision time. You can either go big here or not, up to you:

Check your onions. They should be reduced and a bit more golden brown now. If you wanna go big, reset your slow cooker to low and set the timer to cook overnight, like 12 hours. At the end of this sometimes it looks like your onions got a little burned on top, but they did not. It's fine.

If you want your onions today, or after they've cooked for another 12 hours, the next steps are the same:

Remove the lid and stir the onions. Set the slow cooker on high again for 1 hour and leave the lid off.

Let cook for at least another half hour, then stir and check for doneness. The onions will brown rapidly during this time but they won't burn as long as there's still liquid in there.

Keep checking every 5-10 minutes. Cook longer if necessary. Once you're satisfied with the consistency, you're done.

The caramelized onions can be kept in an airtight container for about a week in the fridge. Freeze the rest.

Note: if you get to the end and the onions are swimming in too much butter but they seem done, you can always skim some off. Then you have browned onion butter to put on anything you want to taste delicious.

#recipe #caramelized onions

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stanpinesdykewife · 2 months ago

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Hii! I wanted to say I absolutely adore your work, your writing is excellent and I couldn't let this opportunity pass :3

I was wondering if you would maybe write a stan/reader (female or gender neut) where we like end up dancing, being all lovey after putting the kids to bed or smthg

Thanks ! :D

HI!!! umm i think was too sleepy when i wrote this so the dancing stuff got lost a little bit but i'm a sucker for domesticity so!! hopefully this isn't boring to you askjsksjk thank you for such a cute ask!! because i'm worried it's not too fluffy and you had to wait so long i also put a few headcanons under the cut :) hope you like it!

fridge stan/reader (gender-neutral) pre/during/post-canon/unspecified fluff, 859 words (bonus: domestic sfw stan headcanons)

“Kids are in bed,” you say, leaning back against the kitchen counter. You're behind Stan, watching him rummage through the fridge. His tank strains across his hunched back as he rearranges random snacks and tupperware and sodas to make room for tonight's leftovers.

“They better be,” he grumbles, snatching a small plastic container from the back of the fridge and squinting at the bottom of it. Whatever it is in there, it’s old. You're pretty sure gravy isn't supposed to be three different viscosities all at once. But Stan shoves it back into the fridge, on top of a container slightly bigger. “Told ‘em to hit the hay thirty minutes ago.”

“I'm pretty sure I heard Mabel do the outro of her home podcast five minutes ago,” you say, shrugging. Stan grunts and finds a wilted paper plate covered in foil, a strange liquid pooling at the top. Stan sniffs it, makes a grossed-out sound, then throws it away. Thankfully. But he's still moving tupperware around with no rhyme or reason, and pretty quickly you get fed up. “Okay, we need to clean out your fridge.”

“Whuh? No,” Stan says automatically, and you roll your eyes and push yourself off the counter to step close. You touch his shoulder and he looks up at you, frowning, a container of old food in each hand. You take one and open it, dumping the contents into the trash. Stan stands up tall, suddenly indignant. “Hey, what's the big idea?”

“You're not eating this. As in, I wouldn't let you. Because it's old,” you say. You're close enough to the sink that you can just reach out and drop the empty container in. “We don't have to clean all of it, but you're going to break your back if I let you rearrange your entire fridge for another hour. We just need to make room for the leftovers from tonight.”

“I'll break your back,” he says, suddenly grinning. You laugh, instinctively pushing at his bicep, and Stan grabs your wrist and tugs you into him. You bump into his chest with a quiet oof! and Stan's arms glide around your waist. His smile is tired and mushy, and you can't help but snake your arms around his neck. Stan's voice is soft when he says, “Guess I didn't realize how much junk I had in the fridge. You're not gonna make me clean it tonight, are ya?”

“Not tonight,” you promise. One of your hands finds the back of his head, lightly running up through the soft hair there. Stan sighs, some tension seeping out from his shoulders. He must be more tired than you thought. “Long day?”

“Nah,” he says, too-quick, even as his eyes slip shut to revel in the feeling of your touch. You scratch lightly up his head, then rub your fingertips down to his neck, over and over, just massaging the base of his skull. Stan's head dips slightly forward, and you can see his short lashes against the thin skin of his eyebags from this angle.

“You're tired, huh,” you say sympathetically. Stan's brows furrow slightly, but he doesn't open his eyes. You lean up enough to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth and watch his expression relax again. “Poor thing. You wanna head to bed?”

“What, and let you deep clean my kitchen without me? Nice try,” Stan huffs. You smile when his arms tighten around you, drawing you closer, and you both start to sway in a gentle, lazy rhythm. Stan holds you against him so he can press the side of his face to your head, and you keep up the gentle scratching of his scalp to make him sigh again. “I'll help you clean up tomorrow.”

“I'll clean it up for you if you make my favorite breakfast,” you offer, leaning your cheek against his chest. It rumbles as Stan hums in thought, pretending to think it over. Behind you, his hand creeps lower, finding the hem of your shirt so he can press his palm to the bare skin of your back.

“Might haveta go to the store in the morning,” he mutters quietly, rubbing his thumb along the base of your spine. He touches you idly, almost thoughtless, and keeps swaying you slowly back and forth to the rhythm of a song neither of you can hear. Needless to say, you're charmed.

“I'll go with you,” you hum, squeezing lightly at the tension in the back of his neck. “Wake me up when you get up.”

“You sure?” Stan asks, because he's an old man and a business owner who physically can't sleep past the break of dawn. You turn your face to press a kiss to his shoulder, nodding. Stan chuckles from above you. “Alright. You got it.”

“You got me,” you say, low and nonsensical. But Stan laughs, his hand pausing and pressing completely against your back, and something in your chest leaps at the feeling. You laugh with him.

It takes a few more minutes of lazy swaying and laughter and gentle little kisses before either of you realize you left the fridge open.

some domestic sfw stan headcanons:

hoards sooo much food when the kids come to visit because for a long time he wasn't sure when his next meal would be. he never wants the kids to feel that way, especially after they almost lost the shack to gideon

had to learn to cook in order to save as much money as possible. canned meat is his go to but before dip and mab visited for the first time, stan spent a whole few weeks practicing cooking actual food to impress them

in the same vein he usually gets up early in the morning to have breakfast and handle mystery shack stuff so he doesn't need to adjust too much to making breakfast for the kids!

stan is soooooo touch-starved. he's so easy. one pass of your fingers thru his hair and he's like a lovesick little puppy hahaha he loves it

skin-on-skin contact is the best he loves to feel you up not even in a horny way (half the time) he just loves touching you and hugging and cuddling etc especially when he's sleepy

stan loves to sing he loves to dance canon is so clear about that!!! of COURSE he'll dance with you all soft and sleepy whenever you're close by and he's got a song stuck in his head

giving him a big ol kiss. smooch!!!

thanks so much again for the ask!!!

#i loooove domesticity #giggling #lol #fluff #drabble requests #my headcanons #my writing #gravity falls #stanley pines x reader #reader insert

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bonny-kookoo · 9 months ago

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hii!!

since you mentioned oc's period in someone older,can we have drabble related to this topic pls🙏🏽 just want to see how caring jk is

You've never really thought you'd be in a situation like this- but then again, Jungkook is surprising you constantly, so you should expect it by now.

You're sitting on Jungkook's lap right now, fully letting his front body support yours as you lean your head against his shoulder, basically clinging to him like a koala- just that you're not on his back. He's working while you rest, constant clicking of the keys from his laptop's keyboard almost like soothing background noise, helping both your headache and your nausea as you fight both simultaneously.

Sometimes, like right now when he's just browsing through Mails and Documents, one of his hands will rest on your back, occasionally even traveling beneath your soft sweater just to feel your skin.

You've told him to just leave you be on the couch, or even in the bedroom- feeling too uncomfortable to really do anything today. But he'd insisted that if you'd like, he'd want you close- just in case you want or need anything. And also, he likes your company, even if you're a little out-of-order at the moment.

You're moving around a little, giving him a little notice that you're awake again, and at that, he leans back in his chair a little to look at you. "A little better?" He asks, but you just shrug.

"I'm still nauseous." You mumble. "But I'm also hungry." Is what you complain about, making him play with the piercings on his lower lip.

"Maybe you can try something light? Just some fruit or anything you might feel like from the fridge?" He asks, unsure how to exactly help you. You've already taken some meds for it, but you've also told him that you're always a bit miserable during your period. But right now you nod, before you yawn and get up from his thighs.

"Am I really not bothering you?" You ask him, and he shakes his head as he walks to the kitchen with you, downstairs in his house. It's then that you suddenly rush into the guest bathroom downstairs, feeling the floodgates open for just a second as you slam the door shut behind you.

A knock is heard. You get ready to tell him you're alright, when his voice is heard instead. "There's some stuff underneath the sink, if you need anything." He tells you, and you reach for it, opening the tiny cabinet door- finding both panty liners, pads and tampons there.

This is so typical for him. Always prepared for anything.

Later, while he's making you tea and warms up some of the leftovers from yesterday, you realize just how.. good you feel. Emotionally at least.

"Do you like.. bigger, or smaller dogs?" Jungkook wonders as he puts down your mug of tea in front of your hands, before he sits down, oven still running as it heats up the food.

"Hm. I think, both are nice." You say, putting your hands on the cup to warm them. "I mean, your house is big, and you have an even bigger backyard. So a big dog would be fitting, right?" You tell him.

"Hm, maybe. Would you feel comfortable with a big dog?" He asks, and you squint your eyes at him.

"Are you asking me if I want to get a dog with you, mister?" You question him, and he laughs.

"Caught me. I actually have been thinking of it. A dog would be nice, right? So you're not so lonely when I have to travel again for business." He explains himself, and you shrug.

"You think we can take care of a dog together?" You ask, and he shrugs.

"I mean, we're not gonna get one like.. tomorrow. But maybe in a few months?" He proposes, and you nod.

"It'll be like having a baby." You giggle, and he laughs, watching you fondly.

"Well, right now I already have a baby to take care of."

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #bts jungkook fanfic

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m00nveil · 8 days ago

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w101 housing advices from a somewhat seasoned house decorator that no one asked for

#1: GET YOUR CRAFTING LEVEL THE FUCK UP !!!!! and never ever ever sell your reagents. ever. the gold isn't worth it. there are so many amazing housing recipes you can buy and craft (torald wayfinder in northguard grizzleheim and perry in sky city lemuria for example).

#2: if you have limited resources like me, keep looking around in the bazaar for items. sometimes people sell some insanely good items! many of my best items come from the bazaar. and NEVER second guess whether you're gonna buy an item or not, cause people won't hesitate to snatch it. if you see it and like it, buy it.

#3: advanced move will save your life. when i discovered it i swear to god my life changed. if you click on an object you'll see a yellow arrow next to its name on the right. USE THAT!!! you can move objects wherever you wanna without having to deal with the grid, rotate them however you want except vertically, and make objects smaller or bigger. you can create a whole new thing from a bunch of items, like i created a fridge using alhazred's repository. note that this feature is only available for wizards lvl 15 and above.

#4: don't ignore the furniture set bundles in the crowns shop. i'm sure no one does but i still gotta say it. they're literally one of the most useful things for house decorating. the school and world furniture sets can all be bought for 22500 gold and there's so many amazing items in those. i especially recommend the khrysalis furniture sets and the myth and balance furniture sets, but all of them are gorgeous.

#5: some items can serve as alternative walls, for example dworgyn's fireplace and bookshelf from the death furniture sets. you can go absolutely crazy with them.

#6: keep going around worlds and find their furniture shops. all the worlds have a furniture shop/seller except avalon, khrysalis and mirage as far as i know, but i might be wrong. many of these furniture shops have some great items that you can utilize even if your crafting level isn't high. wallaru specifically has one of my favorite sofas in the game ever, the ice dwarf sofa.

#7: if you're ever in need for a teleporter or a few, go farm the painted spider in zafaria!

#8: don't forget to rate castles in castle tours so you can craft the regal and invisible floors and walls! you can find the recipes for those from angelica windspar in the castle tours building. you can apply wallpapers and floors to the regal ones, and they're especially useful for decorations, however they can get very buggy. you need to rate 100 castles to get the castle auditor rank to craft these.

#9: you can turn fish tanks invisible with castle magic and the fish won't disappear, so it looks like the fish are just floating. you can make custom aquariums!

#10: you can put house guests on bread crumbs and you can alter their behaviors too! they don't really change much, but setting their behavior to "sad" will show their death animation. if you need someone kneeling or laying down, it's perfect.

#wizard101 #w101 #wizzy fandom #wizzy101 #wizard101 fandom #🦇 [ w101 housing. ]

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shanair · 8 months ago

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Rick and Morty X F!Reader | S1E6

Episode Name- Rick Potion #9

Word Count- 4,398

Morty and I stand around at our lockers at school, I scroll on my phone as he gets his stuff. Principal… Vagina speaks overhead on the intercom. Man, our school is a joke.

“Principal Vagina here, don't let the name fool you, I'm very much in charge, reminding you that tonight is our annual flu season dance. I don't know how many times I have to say this but if you have the flu, stay home, the flu season dance is about awareness, not celebration. You don't bring dead babies to Passover.”

I find myself snickering at what probably wasn’t meant to be a joke. I look up at the sound of Morty slamming his locker shut to look over at Jessica, whom her friends had just approached. He doesn’t look in my direction, but I know what he’s going to do- god that idiot needs to stop trying to get with her, it’s so sad to watch.

“Ohhh. Okay, here we go.” I hear him psych himself up, I should stop him. Butttt, sad or not it’s entertaining. He walks over to her nervously. “H-Hey, Jessica, uhh-”

“What's up, Morty?” She greeted before sneezing. Morty stutters again but Brad doesn’t give him the chance to respond. He swings Jessica behind him with his arm, I scoff audibly.

“What are you doing?” He butts in, already up in Morty’s face. I push myself off the locker to stand near Morty.

“Ummm…” Morty stammered.

“Wait, wait. Were you about to talk... to her?” Brad points to Jessica.

“Well, I mean, I was thinking about it.”

“Dude-” Brad taps Morty’s chest, “stay in your league! Look at how hot she is! You don't see me going to a bigger school in a wealthier district and hittin' on their prettiest girl!” Jessica sighs and lets Brad lead her away, I hear her sarcastically mutter.

“Gee, thanks, Brad.”

“I throw balls far. You want good words, date a languager.” Brad yaps as he walks off with Jessica. At least she seemed, happier talking to Morty? I guess? I wrap my arm around Morty, grinning at him.

“Oh don’t worry about it too much, Morty. She’ll dump him soon enough after she’s done with his bullshit.”

“W-well that’s easy for you to say. I don’t want her later, I want her now- so I can go to the dance with her!” He sighs. He does make a good point, I shrug at him.

“Be realistic! There is no way you can make her like you right now. Can we go now?”

“Fine, fine.” He swats my arm off as we go to class.

. . .

I follow Rick into the kitchen as he gets something to drink, Dad stands behind the counter making a complex sandwich while Morty sits solemnly in front of him, with a plate of cookies.

“...I remember feeling that way about a young lady named your mom, and that's not an urban dis, your mom was my Jessica. I remember the first time I saw her, I thought…”

“--I should get her pregnant, then she'll have to marry me” Rick interjects as he grabs a glass and opens the fridge, I walk over to Morty and steal a cookie. He’s too sad to care, score!

“I beg your pardon, Rick, inappropriate.” Dad warned as he pointed to Morty and I.

“Sorry, please proceed with your story about banging my daughter in high school,” Rick rolled his eyes, “I'm not sure you want to take romantic advice from this guy, Morty, his marriage is hanging from a thread.”

“My marriage is fine, thank you.” Dad replied defensively, turning around fully to Rick as he walked up.

“Jerry, it's your house, whatever you say it is is how it is, but I think a blind man could see that Beth is looking for the door. I barely have a reason to care and even I noticed.”

“Rick that’s harsh,” I add, Morty tacks on.

“Come on, Rick, don't talk about our parents like that.”

“Listen, Morty, I hate to break it to you, but what people call "love" is a chemical reaction that compels animals to breed. It hits hard, Morty, then it slowly fades, leaving you stranded in a failing marriage. I did it, your parents are gonna do it. Break the cycle, Morty. Rise above. Focus on science. At least your sister isn’t pinning over a rando anymore.” Rick monologued before leaving the room with his juice. As much as I like to be the better sibling I am still pinning, but at least not to Morty’s level. Don’t know if I should be disappointed or proud of his tenacity. The silence drags out as Dad walks over to us.

“Alright, well, I'm gonna go get dressed for the dance.” Morty said awkwardly before leaving his seat. Dad looks at me awkwardly.

“Yeah, I'm just going to...check on your mom.” He walks off too, both of them leaving me alone in the kitchen.

“And they both left perfectly good food.” I comment at the discarded cookies and sandwich, I ponder skipping the dance and just sitting here but Morty shouldn’t suffer alone.. I guess. I finish up the cookies while I wait for Morty to finish getting ready.

Once he’s out of our room I take the chance to get ready myself. I sit on my side of the room, taking my time to get dressed. I don’t care about this dance but I might as well look nice. Besides, maybe Olivia will be there. I’m not a big dress person but I put on an old one that Summer had, I could almost hear her when she gave it to me. ‘What and you’re so skinny then? Fine! You have it then, I don’t care!’, and then she ran out of the room crying. It wasn’t my fault, she asked how it looked on her and I said snug- oh. Yeah, I see why, oops. My dilemma ends when I realize I had zoned out thinking about that memory and now I’m ready.

I walk to Rick’s garage, knowing that’s where Morty probably was, and I was right. My face dropped as I saw Morty as he was starting to zip his fly down, Rick was leaned over a machine near him with his back towards me. Morty gives me a dumbfounded face, I scrunch mine up in aversion.

“Am I interrupting, or???” I ask cautiously, Morty pulls it back up.

“Rick needed DNA.” He shrugs and Rick shakes his head before turning back to Morty.

“A hair, Morty, I needed one of your hairs! This isn't Game Of Thrones.” He plucks a hair from Morty. Morty shrieked quietly as Rick plucked a strand off his head. He shoves the hairpiece into the machine which deposits an orangey substance into a flask.

“What is this for exactly?” I question while walking to take a better look.

“Your brother wanted to make a love potion, so I used the oxytocin from voles combined with his DNA to concoct this.” Rick picks up the flask, handing it to Morty. “Alright, Morty, whoever you smear this stuff on will fall in love with you, and only you, forever. Ya happy now, Morty?” He walks away to sit back on his desk.

“Heck yeah! Thank you, Grandpa Rick!” Morty cheered as he took the potion happily. “Hey there's no dangers or anything or side effects, right?”

“Www.. what am I, a hack?! Go nuts, Morty, it's full proof.”

“Are you sure, Rick? Positive that nothing will go wrong? No small tiny details?” I push. Knowing Rick there has got to be something iffy about this. You can’t just mess around with love that delicately. Morty tugs on my arm as Rick turns back over.

“W-what are you going to doubt Rick’s invention? Let’s go! Jessica is waiting for me!” Morty frowned as he pulled me out of the room. Oh boy.

. . .

“This isn’t a good idea Morty!” I insist as we walk around the dance looking for Jessica.

“Shh! You’re just jealous… Oh! There she is!” Morty smiled. He pulled the potion out and smeared it on his hands. I sigh and accept he’s going to do this. I instead glance around the gym. It was decently packed, who knew a dance about flu prevention would have no physical aspects to enforce flu prevention? Eh, our school is a shithole anyway. Oh no, our school is a shithole. I can already feel myself worrying about catching the flu again, sure I have the shot, but these kids probably have an advanced strain that’ll mutilate my immune system. I wonder how many people have already spread it around.

“Hey there, Jessica” Morty reaches Jessica, pretending to trip as he smears the potion on her exposed arm. “Whoops!”

She turns around, I can see the change in her demeanor as she grabs him close to her.

“Omigod, Morty. You look really nice tonight.”

“O-Wow, thanks!”

“I love you, Morty. I love you so much it burns!” I cringe as she starts caressing his face.

“Oh, man. I love you too, Jessica!” Morty smiled like an idiot up at her while Brad shoved in between the two.

“Is this punk bothering you, Jessica?!”

“Leave him alone, jerk!” Jessica hissed as she lost her shit. She gets up in Brad’s face aggressively. “I'm in love with him! He's more man than you will ever be!” She sneezes into his face. Yeah, sure she’s trying to defend Morty, but she could have at least covered when sneezing.

Brad’s face contorts a little before merging into remorse, surprisingly. He sighs.

“Aw man, Morty, ugh, I'm really sorry.”

“Oh, well, no problem Brad.” Morty replied, equally confused as I am. I see him glance over at me and I shrug in return.

“There's somethin' special bout you, somethin' special.” Brad hugs Morty before squeezing his ass. Something’s not right here.

“Whoa, take it easy!” Morty shouted as he pushed Brad off. Jessica grabs Morty’s left arm, narrowing her eyes at Brad.

“Get your hands off of him!” She screeched.

“Back off I'm trying to be with my man!” Brad shouted back before Principal Vagina and Mr. Goldenfold pull him off.

“That's enough Bradley. We don't want you injuring your ball-throwing arm.” Principal Vagina said as they dragged Brad off.

“Never leave me, Morty, never.” Jessica pulls Morty with her and I grab him. I see her glare daggers at me.

“Morty, you need to end this now. I have a bad feeling.” I whisper to him in a hushed voice. I overhear Brad's calling out for Morty as he’s brought out of the gym. “See?” Morty gives me a nervous look before Jessica intervenes.

“You have a problem, bitch?!” She gets in my face, pushing Morty behind him. “You want him too?! You can’t have him! You can never have him– or take him away from me.”

“Jesus Christ Jessica no I do not want to… take Morty away from you, I just want to talk to him.”

“LIAR!” She shouted before grappling me.

“Jessica stop it!” I hear Morty protest, and other students look at us strangely. I throw Jessica to the ground but she immediately stands up, running at me like a madman. Okay why is it always Morty getting us into these situations, I can’t even go a week peacefully. But I’m his sister, so today cannot be the day where I start ditching him. So of course, I square up.

. . .

Jessica ends up shoving me into the crowd, and one of her friends catches me. She fucking growls at me before turning back to Morty. She pushes herself up against him.

“Do it, Morty. Do it. Rip my clothes off and mate with me for life!”

“Jessica, get a hold of yourself!” The friend cried out before dropping me and rushing up to Morty to hold him as well. “You don’t deserve to carry Morty’s genes.” Simultaneously, everyone surrounding the fight gets the same possessive look in their eyes. I’m pushed back as even the DJ starts to sing about Morty.

“I love Morty and I hope Morty loves me I'd like to wrap my arms around him and feel him inside me”

“Oh, crap. Morty!” I shout over the crowd as they all crowd and fight each other for Morty. I get trampled partially as I push against the rushing crowd into the opening. The exit pushes open behind me and I look up to see Rick.

“(Y/N)!” Rick steadies me as he sees Morty sprinting towards us, the crowd scrambling behind him. “Morty, come on! We got to get you out of here. You're not gonna believe this because it usually never happens, but I made a mistake.” He shuts the door as we rush past, and the doors are immediately rammed into by the horny crowd.

Another door bursts open as Principal Vagina runs behind us.

“Morty, are you okay?”

“I'm fine!” He shouts back.

“Oh, good. If anything ever happened to you, I would kill myself. I love you bad, mo-mo!”

“Ha! You got Mr. Vagina in love with you Morty! M-maybe I am jealous!” I grin through my labored breath. Jeez, this dress is not the running kind.

“Morty, the principal, and I have discussed it, a-a-and we're both insecure enough to agree to a three-way!” Another voice speaks out, I turn around and see Mr. Goldenfold. My eyebrows rise at the prospect but we make it outside. We rush into the ship, Morty trips but I turn him over into the seat. As I grip the handle to pull shut, the crowd pushes it in for me. The vehicle shakes as we settle in.

“I didn't realize when I gave you that serum that Jessica had the flu you know, t-t-t-t-t-t-t-that might have been valuable information for me, Morty.” Rick groaned as he started the ship.

“What the hell is going on, Rick?!” Morty and I ask. Rick glared at our combined question.

“What does it look like? T-t-t-the serum is piggybacking on the virus. It's gone airborne.”

“Oh, crap. What are we gonna do, Rick?” Morty wailed.

“It's gonna be fine, Morty, relax. I whipped up an antidote. It's based on praying mantis DNA. You know, praying mantises are the exact opposite of voles, Morty. I mean, they-they mate once, and then they, you know, decapitate the partner. I mean, it's a whole ritual. It's really gruesome and totally opposite. There's no love at all. I-I-I basically mixed this with a more contagious flu virus. It should neutralize the whole thing, Morty. It'll all be over very shortly.” We fly over the crowd below after Rick pours his antidote into the ship as it expels a mist version over the crowd. “Uh, by the way, Morty, I know you didn't ask or anything, but I'm not interested in having sex with you. These serums, they don't work on anybody related to you genetically.”

“Uhm, obviously!” I retort. “I think we’ve picked up on that. Wait, considering Morty and I are twins, why aren’t they attracted to me?”

“Y-you guys aren’t technically identical twins. You two share most of the same DNA initially, but when your chromosomes changed to XX instead of XY that’s a biggg difference.”

“Is it?”

“Ya, because I said so–”

“OH MY GOD!” Morty screeched, startling me as he stared in horror outside the window. I look out it also, everyone hit by the ‘antidote’ turned into an amalgamation of a praying mantis. Rick grimaced himself.

“Okay, well, sometimes, science is more art than science, twins. A lot of people don't get that.”

. . .

We had parked the ship in a desert canyon. We stand and watch different broadcasts across the world looking for Morty so they can have sex with him before chopping his head off. He paces and freaks out.

“Oh, my god, Rick. The whole world is infected!”

“Yeah, it's pretty wild how fast that spread. I've really outdone myself.” Rick gloats, working on something else connected to the ship.

“Outdone yourself?! W-w a-are are you kidding me, Rick? This is not okay! Not only do they all want to have sex with me, but, you know, now they want to eat me afterwards!”

“Yeah, I don't know what I was thinking. Mantises are they opposite of voles? I mean, obviously, DNA's a little more complicated than that. You know what, though, Morty?” He pulls out another vial, this one filled with a purple liquid. “This right here's gonna do the trick, baby. It's koala mixed with rattlesnake, chimpanzee, cactus, shark, golden retriever, and just a smidge of dinosaur. Should add up to normal humanity.”

“I don't that doesn't make any sense, Rick. How does that add up to normal humanity?”

“What, Morty, you want me to show you my math? I'm sorry a-are you the scientist or are you the kid that wanted to get laid?”

“It’s not his fault for being cautious, first you left out important information after we specifically asked for it, then you mess up fixing that mistake and start an apocalypse! Clearly, you don’t know what you’re doing!” I fuss, and Rick sighs obnoxiously.

“Okay, fine, whatever. Since you’re the smartass, you can make a serum to end this.” I stay quiet because I in fact know nothing about what he’s doing. “Exactly, get in the car.” We pile back in before flying back into civilization. The town is already wrecked, fire and destruction everywhere. It’s scary how fast this happened. I’m starting to get nervous now, what if Rick really can’t fix this? He nudges my shoulder. “Take a good look down there, (Y/N), and soak it in, because, you know, once I pull this lever, it's all back to normal.”

“I hope so. Just do it already.”

“Well, technically, (Y/N), there's no rush. I mean, you know, o-once it's fixed, it's done. It's fixed. You know, we could we could just enjoy it for a little bit. I mean, l-l-l-look at how crazy it is. I mean, (Y/N), w-w-when's the next time you're gonna see something like this? I mean, soak it in, you know? It's it's pretty neat. It's pretty interesting.”

“Please shut up–”

“That's it, Rick! I'm pulling the lever.” Morty yells as he pulls the lever, releasing the new antidote. Everyone melts back to normal.

“W-what do we have here, twins? Looks like I was right and you were wrong, huh? I-I-I-I-I-I-I bet you feel pretty stupid right about now, huh? I-I-I bet you both feel like the world's smallest kids that you were doubting me about this whole thing.”

“Oh, Rick,”

“Something's not right.” I exhale as everyone outside starts to crumble down to the ground. Their bodies convulse unnaturally.

“Yeah, you. You're not right ever.”

“No, no! Look, you idiot!” I force Rick to look outside. Everyone screamed as they turned into these fleshy bug-looking creatures. Many with extra appendages, eyes, and some even wings.

Morty and I watch in horror as Rick once again screws up everything. Albeit this idea was Morty’s, Rick could have stopped this if he had just warned us in the beginning.

“Bet you're loving this. This must be the best day of your life. You get to be the mayor of I told you town. You're welcome.” Rick babbled drunkenly as he drank more from his flask.

Holy shit. This is irreversible, isn’t it? The world is in ruins because of Morty’s stupid hormones. Everything is different now, it’s unfixable. What’s happening with our family right now? What if they got ripped apart by those… things? The sun rises on the broken world as we settle down on a rooftop. We walk out to sit on the ledge.

“Boy, I really cronenberged the world up, didn't I? We got a whole planet of cronenbergs walking around down there. Hey, Morty. A-at least they're not in love with you anymore, though. That's a huge step in the right direction.

“Oh, my god! It's a living nightmare! How could you be so irresponsible, Rick?” Morty cried.

“Me irresponsible?! You- all I wanted you to do was hand me a screwdriver, Morty! You're the one who wanted to be wanted me to buckle down and make you up a... roofie-juice serum so you could roofie that poor girl at your school. I mean, g w-w-w-w-w w are you kidding me, Morty? You're gonna try to take the high road on this one? Y-y-y-y-you're a little creep, Morty. Y-you're a you're you're you're just a little creepy... creep person.” Rick lectured as he stood up. Fine, Morty was a creep, is a creep. But Rick is still the ass here.

“All right, fine. I should have just listened to you when you refused to make the serum. I'm willing to accept my part of the blame for this, Rick. But I'll tell you something you know what? You got to accept your part of the blame! I'm not the one who fooled up the serum! I'm not the one who-who-who-who haphazardly, you know, mixed a bunch of nonsense together and created a bunch of cronenbergs! You got to fix this, Rick!” Morty yells defensively as he stands up as well.

“Yeah, Rick! Fix this! There are millions– no billions of lives that are now destroyed because of your crappy serum! Okay? This one is on, you!” I stand up as well, crossing my arms. I now realize how messed up my dress is but in a less torn fashion than Morty’s. I cannot believe I’m saying this but, I miss Summer. Rick steps closer to us, trying to reconcile.

“All right, all right, Morty. You know, w-w-w-we are in a pretty deep hole, here, but I do have one emergency solution that I can use that'll kind of put everything back to normal, relatively speaking. Here, Morty, put this on while I do a little bit of scouting.” Rick tosses Morty this metal backpack with a green panel, before putting on goggles. This better be a good plan.

. . .

IT WAS NOT A GOOD PLAN!!! Morty and I freak as we walk through a portal into a different dimension. Three identical bodies to our own lay mangled on the ground, blood everywhere.

“Oh, my god, Rick!” I cover my mouth in shock and fear as the metallic smell rushes into my face.

“Is that us?! W-w-w-we're dead! What is going on, Rick? I'm freaking out!” Morty cried hysterically.

“Calm down, you two!” Rick shouted but we tuned him out.

“Oh my god, oh my god. I can’t do this– I cannot, do this.” I pace around while Morty makes more noises of disgust combined with fear.

“I can't deal with this, Rick!” Morty shook his head as Rick grasped him.

“Calm down, Morty!” Rick shook him as I grabbed a trash can and promptly vomited into it. My eyes are pricked with tears at the brutality and the sickly feeling in my stomach.

“This can't be real!”

“You got to calm down, Morty.” Rick reiterates as I retch more, standing up I move over to the two.

“Rick! W-w-w-we-we’re ripped apart!” I stammer, he reaches over and grabs my head before knocking it into Morty’s. The shock shuts us up as he makes us focus on him.

“Shut up and listen to me! It's fine. Everything is fine. There's an infinite number of realities, and in a few dozen of those, I got lucky and turned everything back to normal. I just had to find one of those realities in which we also happen to all die around this time. Now we can just slip into the place of our dead selves in this reality and everything will be fine. We're not skipping a beat, twins. Now, help me with these bodies.”

“This is insane.” Morty muttered as he crouched down near ourselves. Rick hauls up his own body.

“Look, guys, I'll grab myself, you grab yourselves, okay? I mean, t-t-t-that seems fair to me I mean, that seems like a fair way to divvy it up.”

“Rick, what about the reality we left behind?” I sniffed as I walked over to my body. Her eyes were still open and bulged out like they were looking straight at me. Rick’s voice droned in my head as he spoke.

“What about the reality where Hitler cured cancer, (Y/N)? The answer is don't think about it. It's not like we can do this every week, anyways. We get three or four more of these, tops. Now, pick up your dead self and come on. Haste makes waste. I-I-I don't suppose you've considered this detail, but obviously, if I hadn't screwed up as much as I did, we'd be these guys right now, so, again, you're welcome.”

I suppressed my feelings as Morty and I followed Rick’s orders. We picked up our bodies, dragging them to the backyard. With every step, I felt not like myself, as if I was pushing my consciousness away. It was like I was a bystander, watching myself as I pulled another version of myself. As I dig the grave and push my body into it. I’m thinking of the God complex we must have as people. What of everyone in this universe? They’re the exact same, but they aren’t. Mom, Dad, Summer. They’re the same people, but not our people. We left our family in the universe we ruined. No goodbyes, or even anything to show that we’re okay– to see that they’re okay. The fact that we can do something like this… it’s abhorred. We’re going to live with this family that lost us, what gives us the right to replace them? Walking into the untouched home, I can tell Morty shares the same daze that I’m in. Our parents argue and shout at each other, but the only thing I hear is the ringing in my ears. The only thing I can truly see is my body staring up at me. Rick sits on the couch, unbothered next to a different Summer. Sitting next to her is strange. Everything’s okay now, we left that universe behind, and now, we can carry on with ourselves. Rick must be right, this is the best outcome we could get in our situation, right?

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lmskitty · 4 months ago

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Here's have some Satosugu family stupidity. This is mostly just humour/crack fic because I needed a little break today. Hope you enjoy!

5 conversations Megumi Fushiguro overheard that he wished he hadn't.

Megumi Fushiguro loves his family, friends and boyfriend. He also hates all of them and thinks they should be the ones to pay for his therapy. Here are the things he has been made to hear with his own two ears over the course of one week.

1. The Todo Incident.

Todo mimed rudely with his right hand, his left hand holding his soft drink.

“Bro seriously if you sit on your hand it totally feels like it's a different person. Granted you should do both hands if you want the full package involved though.”

Yuji sighed “Number 1 no it doesn't, 2 stop telling me these things and 3 I don't even need this information!!” He hissed, pulling Todo’s arm down to stop him making the gesture.

Todo stared at him and then at Megumi and then erupted into applause wiping his eyes and hugging his friend, telling him how proud of him he was. He put his hand on Megumi's shoulder and congratulated him on his willpower and relationship, remarking that he had seen what his brother was working with and Megumi was truly strong in spirit for taking on that challenge. Megumi bent his finger back nearly breaking it and told him to never speak to him nor touch him again if he wanted to keep the other fingers.

2. The downfalls of understanding Riceball language.

Toge sat beside Yuta and leant his head on his shoulder before looking up at him, a gentle smile on his face.

Yuta smiled back. “I missed this. It's nice getting to hang out together in person again isn't it?”

Toge: Salmon, salmon, tuna mayo. (It was nicer getting to spend the morning in bed together with your dick in my throat)

Yuta coughed turning red. Megumi stared off to the side pretending he hadn't understood that.

Yuji stared at all of them. “Aw man did Toge say something funny again? I gotta get my head around that speech of his, it's so cool.

Megumi shook his head.

3. Not even safe at home.

Gojo walked into the kitchen and took his shirt off sitting next to his husband.

“Baby you are not gonna BELIEVE the size of the spot on my back”

Geto put his book down looking interested “bigger than the one on your thigh the other day?”

Gojo nodded "for sure!” He sat facing away from his partner. “Go slow though please it's gonna sting like a bitch I just know it”

Geto sighed and squeezed at his back and popped it. He showed Gojo how much was on his finger.

“Woah there was so much!” Geto said.

“Told you!” Gojo said. “Ooooh you know I'm kind of in a mood to be pampered, think you can do my eyebrows later, like tweezing them?” Gojo said, leaning his head back onto his partner's lap.

Geto smiled “Ok baby, and wanna do face masks like last time?”

Gojo nodded and clapped his hands together happily.

Megumi shut the fridge door behind them.

“Sometimes I think it would be less gay if I walked in on you two actually fucking” he said and took his coke upstairs.

“Oh go kiss your boyfriend you homophobe!” Gojo yelled after him, Geto laughed.

4. Girl talk

“No lube, no protection, all night all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the church, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, while i gasp for air and scream the lord’s prayer, he can have me!!!!” Nanako wailed at the TV lying on the floor pretending to claw at the screen watching the new Jungkook video again for the 15th time.

“He is pretty cute,” Tsumiki smiled.

“He could spit on my face and I'd thank him,” Mimiko sighed.

Megumi looked down at his salad and threw it in the bin deciding to only visit the kitchen when he was sure no one else was there.

5. Couples counselling

“Look I get it, I know you have an image to maintain but can we please just talk about it” Nobara said following Maki who sighed and stood up ahead.

“No, can we please just drop it”

“It's ok to be embarrassed but honestly I think it's really cute you're always the little spoon! I'm sorry I called myself your jetpack!”

“Panda is never gonna let me live this down,” Maki said. “And you can stop smirking too!” She yelled pointing her staff at Megumi who raised his hands and backed away going down the other way through the corridor.

#satosugu #stsg #itafushi #crack fic #humour fic #nobamaki #inuokko #goge #gego #teacher geto au #teacher!geto #my writing #satosugu family au

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milkman-zahhak · 4 months ago

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Shane drawing + written fic to accompany it

WARNING, THIS IS A KINK POST, A FETISH POST. IT WILL CONTAIN FETISH CONTENT, SUCH AS BELLIES FULL OF FOOD AND WHATNOT, CHECK THE TAGS FOR THE WHOLE RUNDOWN.

Hello, enjoy another drawing of Shane based off of some in-game dialogue.

Idk if this is base-game, part of one of the many dialogue mods I have installed, or one of the lines I added into the game's code myself to practice modding and to get used to editing dialogue files. I'd say the latter but I don't remember ever typing this so.. idk. Just assuming it's canon for now lol.

Anyways here's the drawing:

+ a short lame-ass gif attempt

I know it's terrible, I wish I could blur it or something so you could choose whether to see it or not, but oh well. Here's what you're probably all looking for, sorry again if my writing is bad, I haven't proofread it or anything, otherwise I would see what I wrote, and decide not to post it ever! So as usual this is all getting posted RAW and UNCUT!!1! That's why I post both the drawing and the writing- so that if one sucks, maybe the other will impress you and save the poor failure of a post. ☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Shane sat back on the worn couch in their cozy farmhouse living room, licking the last bit of greasy residue from his fingers with a satisfied sigh. The empty plate in front of him was a testament to the gluttony that had taken hold of him, scattered with crumbs of one of his favorite snacks, pepper poppers. The farmer always made sure to keep the fridge stocked with them in case Shane got hungry while his husband was too busy to cook for him, since Shane's culinary skill peaked at reheating pre-existing meals in a microwave. Shane usually tries to be a bigger help around the farm when he can, doing what he knows best and caring for all of the animals (mostly the chickens) while his husband tended to the crops and went out foraging. All that hardworking farmer stuff. But today was rainy and stormy, the kind of day Shane liked to spend inside the house. He'd went out to the barn and the coop that morning and made sure the animals were okay, but that was about as much physical activity he had since waking up. Meanwhile, despite Shane's concerns and warnings to him, his husband insisted that he go out and fish in the storm, saying "Certain kinds of fish only come out in this weather, Shane. Besides, the rain means I don't need to water the crops today, I can get other chores done!"

So here he was, sitting on his ass in the house watching TV, the entire stock of pepper poppers he'd saved up for a day like this in front of him, or rather, the remainders of it. He had lost count of how many he had consumed, but it was undoubtedly more than he could handle. A warm, uncomfortable pressure began to build in his stomach, causing it to swell noticeably beneath his shirt. He looked down at his belly, which now protruded like a beach ball, and couldn't help but chuckle softly. The spicy treat had become somewhat of a weakness for him, and his husband knew it all too well.

"Oh, oh wow.. The farmer's gonna be home soon, and I'm such a mess", Shane thought, running a hand over his distended stomach. The heavy sensation of fullness and the audible rumbles signaling an incoming tummy ache were worrying, but he couldn't deny the strange satisfaction that came with it. He shifted his position, attempting to alleviate some of the discomfort, only to feel a loud gurgle reverberate throughout his torso. The sound made him blush, and he glanced around the room, hoping that no one else had heard it before remembering that he was home alone. Even if he wasn't, he had a hunch that his husband wouldn't mind seeing him like this anyways. Another gurgle echoed through his intestines, followed by an unmistakable sensation of gas brewing inside of him. Shane leaned to the side, carefully straining as a short, quick puff rushed out from behind him into his seat. "nhfh.." He grunted, holding back a cough as the scent of digesting pepper poppers lingered in the air.

With a groan, Shane shifted his weight on the couch, the couch creaking underneath him as he tried to sit up straight but ultimately slouched back down, regretting trying to preserve his dignity. His stomach gave another loud growl, followed by a series of smaller rumbles that made him cringe. "Pepper poppers, why do you have to taste so good but hurt me so bad?" Shane muttered to himself, rubbing his belly tenderly.

He knew all too well that they didn't agree with him sometimes. They'd make him feel bloated, gassy, and sometimes even give him heartburn and indigestion depending on how much he decided to pig out, but damn if they weren't worth it. He glanced over at the clock on the wall, realizing that his husband would be home soon.

"I should probably clean up this mess before he gets back", Shane thought, looking at the empty plates and greasy napkins littering the coffee table. He slowly pushed himself off the couch, letting out a small burp as he did so. He paused for a moment, waiting for any more gas to escape before he began to gather up the remnants of his indulgent day. His insides were churning up a storm but nothing else seemed to come out just yet. As he bent over to collect some of the napkins that fell on the floor, another gurgle sounded from his stomach, followed by a sharp pain that made him wince.

"Fuck," Shane cursed under his breath, clutching at his swollen midsection. He straightened up carefully, trying to ignore the discomfort as he made his way to the kitchen. Each step he took sent small tremors through his body, making him hyper-aware of every little movement in his stomach.

When he finally reached the kitchen, he deposited the plate into the sink and napkins in the trash can and took a deep breath, leaning against the counter for support. He couldn't help but feel self-conscious about his bloated appearance. He knew his husband loved him no matter what, but Shane couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed.

At this moment, the doorknob jiggled and he heard the front door creak open. It's as if the universe was reading his mind and taunting him. "Hey honey, I'm back! I caught a bunch of neat fish today! I think we might need more Wild Bait though because…" The farmer's words trailed off as he caught sight of Shane in the kitchen, his eyes drifting downwards onto the poor man's swollen belly. Shane could feel the heat rising to his cheeks as his husband's gaze swept over him, taking in the sight of his distress.

"Shane? Are you alright? You look…" the farmer trailed off, concern evident in his voice.

Shane forced a sheepish smile, taking his hand off of his belly, trying to play it cool despite the discomfort. "Urgh.. Y-Yeah, honey, I'm fine, just… *hic* ate too many pepper poppers…" he admitted, quickly going back to rubbing at his stomach again. He could feel the gas building up inside him, threatening to escape at any moment. He hoped that the farmer wouldn't notice, but the man had always been perceptive.

The farmer's eyes narrowed, and Shane knew that he wasn't fooling him one bit. "How many did you have? I mean, I have a whole chest of ingredients in the shed so I can always make you more, but I really thought this time I'd made you enough." he asked, a hint of amusement lacing his tone.

Shane shrugged noncommittally, not wanting to admit the truth. "You did, you made more than enough, sweetie…" Shane paused to let out a belch, only for it to get caught in his throat, the moment passing uncomfortably. "I just… I wasn't paying attention, and I ate more than enough." he mumbled, looking away. No point in feigning innocence now, not if he wanted any help with his developing bellyache.

The farmer chuckled, crossing the room to stand behind him. He wrapped his arms around Shane's waist, pulling him close so that his back was pressed against the farmer's own body. Shane let out a small squeak of surprise, followed by a louder gurgle from his stomach. The farmer's laughter grew louder at the sound, and Shane couldn't help but join in, despite the embarrassment.

"You know they always do this to you, snack-food is supposed to be eaten in moderation, y'know." the farmer said, kissing the back of Shane's neck.

Shane nodded, wincing slightly as another rumble echoed through the kitchen, the cause of which staying irritatingly trapped inside his stomach "Yeah, I know," he replied. "But I couldn't resist. ugh.. They taste so much better after being microwaved." The farmer's hand slid up to rub circles on Shane's distended belly, "Mmhmm, and I bet it's so easy to just keep eating without even thinking about it when they're all… soft and squishy.."

Shane rolled his eyes, the irony of such a description was not lost on him. The farmer couldn't resist teasing Shane some more, rubbing his hands over the swollen belly and giving it a few gentle pats. Shane's cheeks turned a deeper shade of red as the movement caused more gas bubbles to form and shift. "You're adorable, you look like you're pregnant, haha! " the farmer laughed, his fingers tracing patterns on the taut flesh "Kidding, haha. Swallowing seems to be your strong-suit no matter the situation, huh?"

Shane tried to play it off, swatting at the farmer's hand weakly. "Stop!" he said between giggles and groans, "It's not funny!" But deep down, he knew that his husband's touch was helping him relax, even if it made things worse temporarily. The farmer was always so attentive, always knowing just what to do to make him feel better. And just what to say to get under his skin and make him squirm.

Just then, Shane's stomach gave a particularly loud growl, followed by a deep, low burp, like a warning signal. "*bhrrruurup*… uh, 'scuse me.." The farmer's grin faltered slightly, his eyes flickering to Shane's face as he felt the tension return to his husband's body. "Oooohohooohhhh… " Shane moaned, clutching at his belly "f-fuck, they're really doing a number on me". The gas was building up inside him, pressing against his insides like a balloon ready to burst. He could feel the pressure increasing by the second.

"Come on," the farmer said, taking Shane by the hand and leading him back to the couch, "Let's get you comfortable."

The farmer sat Shane back down on the couch, his belly jiggling slightly from the effort it took to move. He sat down next to him and began rubbing his hand gently over his stomach, trying to ease the discomfort. Shane leaned back, letting out a couple of hiccups. "Fuck, that hurts," he muttered, trying relax himself. The farmer chuckled, his eyes filled with warmth and amusement as he continued to rub circles around Shane's navel. "Relax, dear. You know the drill by now." He was right, Shane had experienced this kind of thing many times before after indulging in his favorite foods. His stomach was just sensitive.

Or maybe his favorite foods being greasy, cheesy pizza, soda, peppers, and spicy pepper poppers was the culprit behind his frequent tummy troubles- but as he's said before, he'd rather die before abstaining from any of those foods.

As the farmer's hands kneaded gently into the surface of Shane's aching belly, they loosened up a few air bubbles that were previously trapped. Shane's gasps and groans were interrupted by airy little burps. "There we go~" the farmer cooed, enjoying the little moans that followed almost every time his husband burped. For as much relief as they brought him in the moment, more gas was building inside of him rapidly as his stomach tried to digest everything. Shane knew this was only the beginning of what was bound to be a long night. The farmer leaned down, pressing his ear against Shane's stomach, listening to the symphony of sounds emanating from within. "Sounds like your stomach's waging a war on you in there." he joked, his breath tickling Shane's skin. Shane groaned in embarrassment, but couldn't help but laugh a little, too. The farmer always knew how to lighten the mood. But as his nimble fingers dug into the sensitive flesh of his lower belly, Shane's laughter turned into moans of both pleasure and discomfort. He couldn't deny that there was something erotic about this situation, even though he knew it shouldn't be. "*hic-uuurp.. uuurp*... ughhh, feels… so tight.." He whined.

Shane flinched as his intestines let out a sickly rumble, he knew his husband could feel and hear it from the outside. "Just let it out, it's gotta happen at some point" the farmer whispered, his hand now firmly kneading Shane's lower stomach. Shane nodded, biting his lip. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let go. A loud, long fart echoed inside the room, making them both laugh uncontrollably.

The tension dissipated as the gas escaped, and Shane slumped back onto the couch, relieved for a moment "oh fuck, finally.." he sighed. As the minutes passed, Shane's burps became more frequent and less forceful - small puffs of air escaping his lips like a steam engine letting off steam. He shifted on the couch, farting once more. "Buhhhh.. I don't feel good.."

He was a burpy mess. He struggled to speak between them "I'm so *uuurp* bloated" he whined, looking down at himself with disgust. His stomach was round and hard, protruding against his shirt. He felt each gurgle and bubble as his stomach contents churned like a pot of boiling soup- if the soup was made entirely of pepper poppers and grease. He couldn't believe how much he'd eaten - it felt like he'd never be able to move again. *hic…… hic….*

"oh no, f- *hic* fuck.." Shane moaned. each hiccup jostled his already sensitive belly. He put both his hands on the sides of his poor bloated belly, trying to keep it steady while his husband rubbed it. Suddenly, another hiccup shook Shane's frame, only this time it was accompanied by air being forced out after being sucked in by the initial hiccup. His entire body tensed up and he let out a painful groan. "*hic-uuurp* fuck, that h- *hic-uoorrrp* guh… hurts.." The farmer's hand paused mid-rub, looking down at his husband with a mix of concern and arousal "Aw, you poor thing. I can't stop hiccups.. um, just…. Try not to swallow too much air?" Shane whimpered in response "*hic* can't.. help it.. *hic-uuurp* ow… oooohhh.. *hic-uurlp* ow…" "Just hang in there," the farmer reassured him, rubbing his back now. they were both a bit less talkative for a few minutes as Shane groaned in pain. Eventually his hiccups became less frequent, replaced instead by deeper and wetter belches. but the whole ordeal of uncontrollable hiccups still left Shane exhausted. "*buuuuurp* ugggh… so gurgly… *buuuu-ulp* oooh.." Shane managed to say through clenched teeth.

The farmer nodded sympathetically, rubbing Shane's back with slow, comforting circles. He couldn't help but admire the way his husband's belly moved with every burp, the firmness of it beneath his hands. It was fascinating, in a weird sort of way. The farmer moved in closer next to Shane, resuming his gentle massages on his husband's stomach. His hands moved in slow, deliberate circles, trying to coax any remaining gas out gently.

Shane's breathing was deep and labored, his chest rising and falling with each exhale. "ngh… ohhhhh.. *frrrrrt pffffrr-brrpt* ah.." Shane trembled as he felt pressure building near his backside, unable to hold anything back. After a small toot, realizing it was only another fart, Shane actively pushed a little bit, forcing the air out. "Better?" the farmer asked.

The farmer's touch was soothing, his concern evident as he continued to massage Shane's belly. Shane couldn't deny the strange mix of embarrassment and arousal he was feeling - it wasn't everyday someone else got to see him in such a state. But something about his husband's tender massages made him feel cared for and safe. He nodded weakly, a small smile playing on his lips. "Y-yeah.. thank you." He murmured, leaning into the farmer's touch.

The farmer smiled, his thumb pressing against Shane's belly button as he worked his way around the taut surface. The pressure built again, and Shane even try to hold anything in. He let out a long, wet fart, followed almost immediately by a hefty burp. The farmer laughed softly under his breath. "Good boy." He praised, leaning in to plant a kiss on Shane's cheek. Shane's face reddened at the praise, but he couldn't help but feel a spark of arousal at the gentle dominance in his husband's tone. He bit his lip, trying to contain himself as the farmer's hands continued to work their magic. His belly felt a tiny bit lighter now, the gas slowly leaving his body. The farmer's hands moved lower, accidentally brushing against Shane's crotch. He let out a small yelp at the sudden contact, his erection straining against the fabric of his pants almost as much as his belly strained against his waistband.

"Sorry," He mumbled, turning his face away and burying it in his hands. "It's just… you know.. *uuurp* mmph, you.. You're touching me so much.. a-and rubbing me…" he trailed off, unable to finish his sentence. The farmer chuckled again, his hand resting lightly on Shane's hip. "It's okay, sweetheart." He said softly, giving Shane's side a gentle squeeze. "We've been married for years, I know how your body works." He paused, his eyes meeting Shane's briefly before looking away. "And honestly, it's adorable."

The farmer's words sent another wave of heat through Shane, his embarrassment giving way to full-fledged arousal. He shifted slightly, trying to adjust himself without drawing too much attention. But it was no use - every movement seemed to shake his overstuffed belly, reminding him of his predicament. He could feel the farmer's eyes on him, taking in every detail.

"W-why are you looking at me like that?" Shane stammered, trying to sound playful but failing miserably. The farmer's gaze softened as he reached out and cupped Shane's cheek, turning his face towards him. "Because I find you incredibly sexy right now," he admitted, his voice low and husky. Shane's eyes widened in shock before a small smile tugged at his lips. He couldn't believe it - he felt like such a mess, but the farmer found him attractive?

Shane's smile grew wider, a sense of warmth spreading throughout his body. He couldn't believe that his husband found him attractive even in such an unflattering state. He leaned into the touch, nuzzling against the farmer's palm like a content cat. The farmer's thumb traced circles on his cheek as they sat there in silence for a few moments, enjoying the simple intimacy between them.

However, the peace didn't last long. With a loud groan, Shane's stomach protested again, reminding them both that he still had quite a bit of digesting to do. He winced, his hand flying to his belly as it spasmed painfully. The farmer's expression shifted back to concern, his hand moving from Shane's cheek to his stomach to comfort him. "Do you need anything else?" He asked gently. Shane shook his head, biting his lip to stifle another burp. He didn't want to ruin the moment, but he couldn't deny the discomfort he was still in.

"Nah.." He said finally, "Just.. *urp* need to let my belly settle.. whoof…" He took a deep breath, trying to calm his stomach. The farmer nodded, his hand continuing to rub soothing circles on Shane's belly. They sat like that for a while longer, Shane burping and farting helplessly. The farmer secretly hoped that the storm outside would continue through the night and into tomorrow. Not for the fishing opportunities, but because maybe he did need a good rainy day off at home.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

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goldfades · 6 months ago

Note

MANAGERS OFFICE: (I want to hear your individual headcannons on this so plz anyone feel free to add on)

First off, girly has snacks EVERYWHERE, so many cabinets and drawers and secret spaces with snacks in it. Something tells me the manager likes gummy and sour candies so there's lots of those.

Pr packages from brands, at one point her office was overflowing with boxes

She has one of those type writer keyboards and the girls will just be in her office chilling and relaxing/falling asleep to the keyboard clacks

Manager has a keyboard collection on the wall with different keyboards and keycaps.

Diffuserssss everywhere, the moment you walk into her office you're just hit with a wave of calm.

Baby also has candles lit and things like plants and eucalyptus.

Fluffy blankets!!!!

Comfiest couch and bean bags.

Big TV facing her desk (the girls 100% hooked up their consoles to it)

Manager also has a wii so they'll play wii sports, wii sports resorts, mario kart, and any just dance game

(Of course they're getting competitive at the basketball game on wii sports resorts)

Extra clothes for both her and the team, sometimes she just doesn't feel like going home to change, or she has a late night.

Organized as HELL, nothing is out of place and if something is she's gonna lose it. She literally needs to be organized she's the manager, assistant coach, photographer, & the media manager. If she's not organized she's not gonna have a good time.

She's an artist so she has some of her paintings/drawings, clay figures, origami just everywhere around her office. She also has the art things that old students have made her as well.

PICTURE WALL, it gets more and more full by the day.

Bookshelf that she has both hers and books for the girls

Adding onto that, next to Paige, Ice, KK, & Nika. Azzi is in her office the most just relaxing or reading. Manager always gets new books for Azzi to read or books Azzi has been talking about. They just sit in comfortable silence.

Manager's office is placed where she can see the sunset and sunrise sooo

The SKY PICTURES

OH OMG and the GOLDEN HOUR PICTURES????? I'm gonna die

I can go on and on about her office pictures alone, girly can POSE!... PHOTOSHOOT! POSE POSE

The tiktoks tooo....... don't get me started

Speaking of the windowww

Rainy days in her office must be heavnly.

The rain hitting the window (the girls watching the raindrops race <3), the candles and diffuser doing their thing, tea brewing, lofi playing in the background.

She has a fluffy ass carpet that the girls lay on.

manager has appliances in her office backroom, tea kettle, air fryer, microwave, yeah-

Let's say manager takes her pet to school (it's either take your pet to work day or she has a service animal) baby is laying on that carpet and sunbathing

Fidget toys

Manager has that big ass Snorlax beanbag

The girls always getting her new candles and essential oils <3

She has a mini fridge that she fills with drinks.

The backroom has an even bigger fridge.

Manager collects minifigures from a series and puts them on a shelf

She has suncatchers everywhere

https://i.pinimg.com/564x/4e/8a/17/4e8a1738f067a8f4d18147cf08e45aae.jpg

^ like that :b

Led lights (either the strips or the lamps)

Bomb ass computer set up, I think she has multiple computers and a big ass desk

Perfume shelf with her favorite scents

She's always going to office supply stores cuz she's always running out

Manager journals and has a shit ton of stationary items for it like pens, stickers, washi tape, etc.

She keeps her space C L E A N, and WILL scold anyone who fucks it up

Something tells me she's one of those people that hate shoes in her office, like she has slippers she makes people put on or they take off their shoes, keep their socks on and put them next to the door before they enter.

All the pain medication, go to her for it, it's in her drawer.

All of the teams comfort snacks and items are in her office in case they're overstimulated/ need a break.

Makeup drawer with a little mirror incase she needs a touch up.

Her lunches are amaaazing, she kinda had to start bringing extra cuz the team

Manager has little art projects sometimes, like those DIY wisteria flowers you hand from the ceiling or that cloud LED light thing where you put cotton over the led light strips and it looks like electricity.

But they buy her fast food so she doesn't mind,,,,,too much

"KK get the FUCK OUTTA MY PASTA GIRL!"

Since manager sucks with her phone, especially when she's locked in. The girls got her a LoveNote box where the heart spins everytime she gets a message, and they're just reminders from the girls or other silly messages.

The most common one being "You better be home in 15 minutes or we're gonna drag you out."

To be honest, if I were the manager, I wouldn't want to leave my office either, working or not.

-🐹

this is. a damn masterpiece CAUSE YES

baby girl is soooo damn organized and the whole food thing is so real, they're eating her lunch and she's just like... "but my pasta..." and they're like WE NEED THE CARBS!!!!!!!!!

if i was manager i'd never wanna leave either CAUSE IT SOUNDS... AMAZING HOLY COW

#i love when hamster nonnie sends long asks #its so fun #🐹 nonnie!#uconn wbb manager thoughts 💭

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translatemunson · 11 days ago

Text

file 002 — brand new bar, same old problems

chapter two of death defying acts

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

cw: MDNI thank you, fem!reader, afab!reader, no descriptions of reader (i'm really trying to keep my descriptions of her and her background to a minimum so i can be inclusive to all people, but let me know if i can improve), no use of y/n, reader has a call sign (i had to pick one, it makes sense for the story), innacuracies about the navy, topgun and army (i did my best guys), this takes places after the events of the movie, yes don't kill me but reader has a fling with another aviator won't say who, implied smut.

If surviving Captain Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell and the Dagger Squad would be required for you to be sent overseas, you were not sure there was gonna be a lot of you left to fit in a plane seat.

In just two days and one quick chat with Maverick, you had to recognize there was no easy task in front of you. Maverick didn’t show any enthusiasm in your work or questions on that quick meeting, which was somewhat discouraging. You had been spending your morning reviewing previous logs of all of the fighter pilots, your afternoons watching them live on radar, taking notes of their data, style and skills, your evenings analyzing all of your notes and coming up with plans for the simulation.

You were in bed way past your normal schedule on Saturday morning. Your belongings would definitely sit on boxes for another week or two if you didn’t do anything regarding it. You had the essentials out — uniforms, underwear, laptop, hygiene products, and a picture of you with your parents —, but that was it. Even your kitchen was getting appliances as you started to need them.

You grabbed a clean change of clothes, your bag and headed out to do groceries and get your mind out of work. There were a lot of things to get done before you were back to base on Monday: firstly you needed some real food in your fridge, including new tea blends and pasta for when you’re too tired to cook anything that takes longer than 20 minutes. Then you had to pick up more pills for your headache. Maybe some flowers for your living room would make the place livable — and also push you to unpack a few boxes with your books and portraits.

Also you had to call your parents and brief them on your first days. Well, maybe that was easier said than done: while you couldn’t share much details about what you were doing, you knew they were ready to pull some interrogation tactics or whatever to get all the intel. Your father was the one helping you with the moving — because he was free in between flight classes —, but your mom was the one texting people to know why now they wanted to transfer you to San Diego.

Once the call sign Maverick was brought to the table, your father did all he could to get you another opening somewhere else. And as soon as you got the bigger picture of why you were being moved to work with Maverick and his team, the puzzle made sense. Even though they were successful on their mission, they had one more challenge ahead, and there was no margin for errors or close calls for this one — you were gonna receive more information about it after the first few weeks.

Maverick and the Dagger Squad were definitely a lot to deal with. Excellent pilots, an amazing sense of a team — maybe almost being killed does this to a group —, but you could see some flaws slipping through the cracks of their personalities. Maverick still hated authority and being told to follow orders. Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin — not Bagman, unfortunately — could be a team player only if that benefited him, otherwise his wingman was the first to go down during training. Natasha ‘Phoenix’ Trace was an excellent pilot, and Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd as her WSO was a great combo, but if paired with someone else, it was a hit or miss — you asked to change pairings on Friday morning, just to check if there was margin for new combos. Reuben ‘Payback’ Fitch and his WSO, Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia, were also a great combo, but they needed a strong flight leader to shine and succeed. Javy ‘Coyote’ Machado was a good pilot, but only on good days — and that was something you couldn’t risk on a mission. And Bradshaw was living for his call sign Rooster, even though he had amazing decision making skills, he was always waiting for the last second to make a move. And that, in the field, meant death.

And those were just a few observations you could get from a few hours in front of the radars and live data from their training exercises.

You went through your shopping list in no time, stopping for headache meds and some flowers just after you got lunch. Back at your one bedroom apartment, you, once again, found an excuse to avoid a Facetime call with your parents, but you made sure to text them some pictures of your progress — and thank your dad for finding a good place for you to stay, a 20 minutes drive from the base, and also in a walking distance of the Golden Hill Park.

Clothes on drawers and hangers, cutlery in the right places, uniforms in the washer, books in the shelves. You were slowly bringing together the sense of home to San Diego. Your last few weeks in Nevada were crazy: you were back from one deployment in the Pacific just to be called for another quick job in Alaska. Thankfully your dad had a few weeks off to go to Nevada and help you pack, driving all your stuff three days before your arrival and saying he would take care of housing. All you had to do was sign a few papers, pack the stuff you could send ahead and get ready for a quick stop up north.

The sun was setting when you realized you were almost done with things. Maybe you should let some for Sunday, so you could also keep your mind off of work. You got up from your bedroom floor, took a long shower and checked your messages.

On Friday, you were able to catch up with Bob over lunch, asking him about his journey after training. You also got close to Phoenix, kinda relieved she was just as nice as you remembered. You got their numbers, they got yours, and that’s how you end up with an invite to join them at a bar called Hard Deck in an hour. If you were gonna be around for at least ten weeks, you might as well do something else besides working.

So you went through your clothes, searching for a black top, some jeans and a jacket for when it got chiller from the autumn air. Just some casual clothes to share a few beers and a few more stories. Still getting used to San Diego streets and skyline, you drove like you weren’t in no rush to get to the bar, appreciating the change of scenery from the desert to the beachside.

You parked outside the Hard Deck just a few minutes late. For a Saturday evening, the place was pretty packed, and you could see some clients were proud to walk around in their work khakis — something you avoided as much as you could. After all, you were just a few minutes away from the station. Texting Bob back to ask him if they were already there, you didn’t even hit send before you were able to pick your new colleagues amidst the crowd.

Nat was holding a pool cue on the side of her body, explaining something to Mickey and Bob. Hangman and Coyote were trying to impress some ladies on the darts board — and you were very sorry for those two poor souls, if they knew everything you’ve been hearing while on duty. You stopped by the bar, getting yourself some bar soda and starting a tab.

“You’re sure I can’t fix you anything else?” The lady behind the bar asked you.

“I’m good for now.” And then you turned to your colleagues and thought better, “Do you happen to remember what they’re getting?” You pointed to them.

“Sure thing, they’re just having beers. Are you friends with the Daggers?”

“Not exactly,” you watched her grab six bottles, serve some ice in the bucket and hand it to you. “I was relocated here to work with them. I know Bob and Phoenix from previous training, but that’s about it.”

“Oh, so you’re part of Maverick’s team?” She definitely knew them, not just because they would be spending their down time on Hard Deck.

“I’m part of the Intelligence Team working with them.” It didn’t get easier every time you talked about it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“It’s Penny, honey. Well, let me know once you decide to try something else.”

“Thank you, Penny.”

You took the drinks with you to the high top table just on the side of their pool table. Your upbeat spirit died down as soon as you realized Bradshaw was there. After being lectured about Maverick and Goose, Bradley’s father, you weren’t looking forward to tolerating him outside of work. His short temper and slow decision making was something that got on your nerves easily. But you should’ve expected this, since he’s a long time friend with Nat.

“Look who’s out of that desk, guys.” And unfortunately, Hangman was the one to announce your presence. “I thought you were the type to wear your uniform everywhere since you’re a goody-two-shoes, Hyde.”

“Unlike you, Seresin, I have a life and personality outside of base.” You pointed to his khakis. “And don’t worry, I’m not writing down your lack of hobbies, outside women and pissing others off of course. I could already tell that based on your flight maneuvers.”

“Looking forward to reading the file you’re writing about me.” He reached for a beer, and you rolled your eyes. “Thanks, honey.”

“I’ll be surprised if you can actually read,” you bit back. “But I’m not here to work. And these beers are a peace offering. I’m not the enemy.”

“So you just like to point out our weaknesses for fun.” Mickey approached you, but you could tell it was more of a lighthearted comment than a critique. “Thanks, Hyde.”

“Thank me next week when you ace the mission simulation.”

You passed them their beers. There was only one left, but since Bradley was more concerned with his pool game than a beer, you moved the bucket aside and turned to Bob, asking “Is this every Navy favorite place to go?”

“Kinda. It’s close to base, and the service is nice and fairly priced.” Bob looked at his water. “How long have you been here?”

“I arrived this week. My father helped me move, but I had zero time to wander around.” But who’s fault was that? Definitely yours. “They are a tough crowd, I fear.”

“Don’t worry, they eventually warm up to strangers,” he explained. “We’re still fresh from last mission, and fresh blood always disturbs a little of a group’s balance.”

“I guess I would know that if I worked closely with fighter pilots,” you confessed. “Most of my missions consist of assisting with data and probabilities when tracing plans and assessing risks. Sometimes I don’t even know who is receiving my reports.”

“But you’ve been training with pilots, right?”

“No real missions, just simulations, mostly with graduates from Top Gun back in Fallon.” This job could be the perfect blend of what you’re good at and your passion, but even though you had extensive training with Air missions, you were stuck with assessing risks for admirals and captains to take charge. “It’s my first real chance to be on a mission where I’m able to build a relationship with the people I’m working with, not just being briefed on the mission and its goals.”

“I see. Yeah, I believe you’re gonna do a great job, not just because I know you, but because there’s still room for improvement and you’re gonna be the key for it.” Bob tried to cheer you up, and even though you wanted to believe his words, the first few days were tough on you.

“Thanks, Bob. But I’ve meant it when I said I’m not here to work,” you laughed, leaving the pressure of your relocation for another time.

“So you better start sharpening your pool skills, Hyde.” Natasha passed you her pool cue and smiled. “Do you even play it?”

“Who do you think I am, Phoenix?” You gasped, as if her words were the biggest betrayal you ever faced. “It’s been a minute since I last played, tho.”

“It’s ok, you don’t need to be good at everything you do, you know.” She joked. “Ok, cutthroat rules. You, me and Rooster.”

She reseted the table as she explained how it was going to work: she was protecting balls 1 to 5, you were in charge with 6 to 10, Rooster had 11 to 15 to himself. The goal was to pocket any opponent's balls while protecting yours. If a foul occurred, the other players had the right to place a ball back at the table.

Natasha breaks, and one of hers was pocketed right away. On her shot, she aimed for the 7-ball, but it lacked strength to send your ball to the pocket. You took a look at the table, spotting a chance to pocket the 12-ball. You walked to the other side, passing just inches away from Bradshaw, and sending his ball to the pocket. He looked unimpressed when you checked for his reaction. You tried to get one of Nat ball’s, but you picked the wrong angle.

Bradshaw fixed his sunglasses on the neck of shirt, assessed the table and went for the 8-ball. Everyone was tied on losses. He sent the 1 straight to the pocket. His third shot scratched the 6-ball and moved it to a dangerous spot, and you held your breath.

“Don’t worry, I’m on your side,” Natasha aimed for the 15-ball and sent it straight to the corner pocket. But it was still a risky position for your 6-ball, and you watched when she pocketed that one as well. “I mean, I took one of his first, which makes us even, right?”

“That’s not what I’ve learned on Math 101, but ok.” You shook your head. “What are you gonna do next?”

“I’m gonna,” she elongated her words, “maybe this one,” she pointed to the 5-ball, “or a small challenge with the 14.” She positioned herself, and missed the latter for a lot. “Your shot, Hyde.”

You sent the 14-ball straight into the pocket, then missed your shot. Bradley took the 3-ball out, followed by the 10, and missed the 7. Nat got the 9-ball, then missed. You tunnel vision on the 13, in the middle of the table, with a huge chance of error. The white ball hit all the wrong corners and you miss it. And it got the white one on the perfect spot to send your last ball to the pocket.

“It was nice playing with you, fellas.” You turned over your cue and crossed your arms, destiny sealed since Bradshaw was a way better player than you. You watched the 7-ball disappear inside the pocket.

“Wait, Hyde, someone could get a foul, and you can come back,” Nat tried to pull you back to the table.

“I’m good with my loss, don’t worry. I’m not leaving, just wanna get something from the bar.” You took the now empty bucket — did Bradshaw get his beer or someone stole it? — to the bar and returned it to Penny.

“How is it going?” She smiled and motioned her head to the group.

“Could be worse. Can I have a tequila shot?”

“Sure, honey.” Penny checked something under the bar. “Is house tequila ok?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. Can you get me one water and two more beers as well?”

“Coming right up.”

You took your phone of your pocket, and checked your messages: you were setting the family group chat aside for tomorrow morning; Lisa, your roommate from Fallon, was sharing updates on the gossip you were missing — not even three days and they didn’t failed to surprise you — while in San Diego; Ashton, still unaware of your transference, was asking if you were free. Yeah, things would never change.

“Here.” She laid your order on the counter. “I know you’re an Officer, but do you happen to have a call sign?”

“It’s more common to hear people calling me by it than my own name,” you shared, and she laughed. “It’s Hyde, a character from a gothic novel.”

“Oh, I believe I’ve read this book in high school.” She pressed her lips together and stared at you, like she was trying to put the pieces together. “Do you need some lime and salt for the shot?”

“No, not really.” Maybe not a smart idea since you’re driving, but that was the Hyde in you: nice face, good manners, but short tempered and always down to some trouble. “Thanks, Penny.”

You balanced your shot and the water in one hand, held the two beers in the other and moved carefully between the crowd to your friends. Back to the pool table, you watched Rooster send Nat’s last ball to the pocket.

“Oh no! And I thought you were each other's lucky charm,” you pointed out between her and Bob. You sat by her WSO’s side and passed him a water. “Or do you want a beer?”

“Water’s fine, thanks,” he offered you some nuts, and you gladly took a few.

“Here, a consolation prize for you.” You slid a beer for Nat as soon as she joined the table. You looked over her shoulder, seeing Bradshaw walking to the piano. “Is he always like that?”

You looked over your shoulder to Bradshaw. He carried a lot of resemblances to his parents — you could tell after hours looking through your parents’ photos, and seeing Goose and Carole in a few, with a kid Bradley closer. This was way before you were transferred to San Diego or decided to join the Navy.

You thought Bradshaw was just like you, until your father told you what happened to him. Father died after a failed ejection, his mom died of cancer, Maverick pulled his papers and set him back. You felt sorry about it, but if he was raised by Pete Mitchell after all of that, you were expecting to meet the younger version of the captain.

“Give him some time, Rooster is not much of a fan of changes,” she explained.

“As long as this doesn’t interfere with my job, I’m ok with not being friends with everyone.” You drank the tequila shot without making an ugly face, and quickly moved to your beer.

“Do you happen to know anything about our next mission?” Nat asked.

“I’m afraid I’m just as in the dark as you,” you shook your shoulders. “I know about the uranium mission though, which was pretty dangerous. I would’ve done a thing or two differently.”

“What exactly?”

“I mean, they could’ve timed the missiles to hit a few SAMs as you were leaving the valley, and make your way out of there smoother.” They were already flying a dangerous zone on less powerful planes, and exposed the hell of their jets, so not having at least a few bombs to help out was a little dumb.

“You’re kinda right,” Bob threw another nut inside his mouth. “Do you think they considered it?”

“Nah, I bet 20 bucks Admiral Simpson was looking for an opportunity to get rid of Maverick.” You took a sip of your beer.

“That’s cruel. But hey, if you have the chance to make our mission less dangerous, you have my approval.” Nat smiled.

“I’ll remember that.”

“Hey, have you always been part of Intelligence?”

You and Bob shared a look. “No, I joined the Navy after graduating from college. My parents are from the Navy, and they gave me the chance to choose. So education, then enlisting. My records say I graduated from Flight School because I completed the training successfully, but I got in an accident during the last week. Then, because of my college degree, they gave me a spot as part of the Intelligence, and I liked it there.”

“Oh, I’m sorry for your accident. I bet you miss being in the sky sometimes.”

“Thanks, Nat. My dad is a flight instructor nowadays, and everytime we’re in the same base, he finds a way to let me fly for a few minutes.”

“So you’ve been keeping your flight skills in check? Why don’t you apply to Top Gun?” Bob inquired.

“I really don’t see myself doing what you guys do on a daily basis,” another sip, waiting for them to be convinced. You were way past that Top Gun chance now, anyway.

“A pretty thing like you fits better as a Top Gun pilot's wife,” Hangman came up to the table, a beer in hand.

“I rather crawl naked over hot tarmac than date an aviator, Bagman.” Maybe if the aviator wasn’t part of your team, but just maybe. “You guys are just trouble. Can’t keep your missiles in your pants, and flee as soon as possible.”

“You’re funny, Hyde,” he pointed his beer’s neck at you.

“Don’t let it fool you, Hangman, they don’t call her Hyde for nothing,” Bob warned him.

“Don’t have a lot of Jekyll going on, hun?”

“Oh god, you’re insufferable,” Nat exited the table as fast as she could.

“No wonder those girls left you hanging on the darts,” it was kinda undeniable that there was some tension in the air.

“If you’d excuse me, I think it’s the perfect time to call my girlfriend.” And Bobby was smart to take his cue to leave you two alone. He motioned to his phone, and you noticed the picture on the wallpaper: the WSO with his arms around a beautiful girl. But she didn’t look like anyone you’ve seen around at base so far.

“Needs babysitting, Bob?” Hangman teased.

“Should I remind you who fell for the feral koalas story, Seresin?” Bob biting back? That was a first for you.

You looked between the two men, intrigued.

“Go talk about pandas or whatever, Floyd.” Jake waved his hand.

“See you later, Hyde.” Bob walks to the external deck, phone in his ear.

“What did he mean with feral koalas?” You inquired.

“His lady is Australian, and one time she told us about how koalas got a disease and were attacking people, and she sounded very scared.”

“And you believed it?”

“I mean, there was a lady in distress!”

“Jeez, we should legally change your call sign to Himbo.”

“Him-what?”

You laughed and stared at Jake, “I’m dead serious about not dating aviators, tho.”

“Who said anything about dating?”

One thing led to another. Coyote left the bar with a girl on his side, Hangman was left without a ride. You offered to drive him there, since it was on your way home, but you were none the wiser after a tough week and a few tequila shots.

When the sun started to peak over the waves, you were far away from Jake’s bed and still very much sure of your promise. You were in San Diego with one goal and one goal only: earn that promotion. And nothing or anyone was stepping into your way.

a/n: hello aviators! first of all, thank you SO MUCH for the support on the first chapter. yes, i wrote what i wrote and i don't regret it (hyde hooking up with hangman, but it was mostly implied so don't worry, it's almost like it didn't happened haha). also even tho we know who the daggers are, hyde is still getting to know them, i couldn't pass on a hard deck introduction scene (top gun: maverick movie style!). well, let me know what you guys think about this chapter, don't forget to reblog, vote and comment! see ya soon!

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick series #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley brawshaw x female!reader #bradley brawshaw x you #bradley brawshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw imagine #top gun rooster #rooster x reader

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the-raven-lady · 3 months ago

Text

The current state of The Fridge

If we're gonna keep contributing to the fridge, I'm gonna need a bigger fridge.

#this is so fucking funny to me #please never stop #oc: elias rushorik

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mossyivy · 7 months ago

Note

The relationship between Violet and her mother since she’s an angsty teen now I feel would just worsen a little when she found out she was having a little brother. They were probably so close when she was little. It was already a little rocky (what teen girl didn’t have a rough patch with their mom at that age. Ik I did) but the addition of a new baby just means less attention for her. She was probably too young to process it when Cecilia was born cause she was little but being a teen and the idea of having a new baby must be rough. Especially as the months pass on and her mom tries to bridge the gap between them before he’s born, only thankfully it was fixed after he entered the world :)

(Oh it be so sweet conversation though. I can only imagine the moment they finally talk it out.)

It's late at night. You can't fall back asleep after waking up for Scottie's 2am feeding and you're down in the living room, watching TV in the dark. Violet comes out of her room to get water and sees her mother awake on the couch. She just walks past with her water bottle not saying anything at all and grabs water from the fridge. Moving to go back to her room you finally say something.

"Not even gonna say hi?" Violet stops as she's about to step into the hallway, looking over her shoulder and nods.

"Hi..."

"You wanna sit with me for a few minutes?" Violet nods again, walking over and sitting at the other end of the couch. This is the farthest she's ever been from you in a long time. The air is thick and tense as you both watch whatever you have on.

"You okay?" Violet takes a sip of her water, nodding again, but she won't look at you.

The silence fills the room again, making the TV way too loud to you as you start thinking.

"This reminds me of when you were 3..." You smile, finally getting her attention to look at you.

"You got so mad at your father for giving me kisses first before you when he got back from a work trip and you refused to talk to him for 2 hours."

"I don't remember that." She moves closer, curling up into your side. You put your arm around her and kiss the top of her head. Smelling her lavender scent with an even bigger smile.

"Of course you don't, you were too little... Are you mad at me?" Violet tenses up under your touch. You look down lifting her face up, her eyes meeting yours. Slightly damp.

"Not mad just... Left out." The realization hits you. Ever since the baby was born you'd been so preoccupied making sure Cecilia knew you still loved her and take care of Scott... You forgot that your oldest still needed reassurance, even at her age.

"Aw, sweet pea... I'm sorry." You hug her tightly, rubbing her back as she hugs you for dear life.

"It's okay."

"No it's not. You deserve time with me... I know you sure as hell need a break from your father... He's so far up your ass he could tell you what your insides look like." She chuckles, smiling for the first time in a while as you kiss her forehead.

"Can we spend time together?"

"Of course honey! If you want to spend time with me or ever just need me we please tell me. I grew up with grandma and I'm thankful for her but she smothered me... So I thought giving you space was the right idea. I guess I gave you too much."

You sit back, continuing to rub her back as she relaxes into your side, thinking about anything and everything you could do together.

"Okay... How about instead of you doing daddy daughter day with your sister you come out with me? You always look so miserable when you come home from those."

"Ah... We always do such... Kiddie stuff. It's boring but I just can't tell Dad."

"Well, we can do more adult stuff together... Like, get a Mani Pedi... Go shopping, eat and maybe a movie? Would you like that?"

"I'd like that a lot actually... Thanks."

"Of course baby. Anything for you." You hug her tight again, squeezing her to you as she groans.

"Mommy please, I can't breathe." You let her go, smiling and holding her at arms length.

"Did you just call me Mommy?!" She looks embarrassed for a moment.

"Felt right... Just don't tell Dad or neither of us will hear the end of it."

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x fem reader #🌿 ivy replies #🌿 ivy writes #leon s kennedy #resident evil x reader #🏡 domestic life with leon kennedy

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lady-djarin · 2 years ago

Text

need you now

agent whiskey x f!reader (one shot)

warnings: feels, sweet jack, teasing, yearning, age gap, drinking, reader is a 'cool girl' who drinks whiskey and beer, retired!jack, oral (f receiving), drunk sex, cliff hanger, kinda...maybe, sorry! 18+ mini

word count: 3.2k

inspired by: need you now by lady a

“another shot of whiskey, can't stop lookin' at the door, wishing you'd come sweepin' in the way you did before, and I wonder if I ever cross your mind, for me, it happens all the time”

* ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

“Come on! It will be fun, there's cute cowboys there!”

You sighed. You liked quiet bars, not ones like this loud and rowdy one that your friends wanted to explore. You lived in a small town in Georgia and were used to the quiet life of it all. “I just don't know if that's my scene, guys.”

“It's my birthday, please? For me?” Your friend gave you her fake puppy dog eyes that always seemed to get her what she wanted.

“Fine… but I'm not dancing!”

“Yay! At least you're going, that's all I can ask for!”

—---

You walked into the bar with your best friend and her friend from high school, your small group making your way to a high top table. The bar was one of the bigger ones of your town but it was still quite small of a building. The dance floor, tables and bar were all pushed fairly close together and every single part was crowded with people. It was a Friday night so that would explain the crowd as you secure your table and get settled.

“I'm gonna grab us a drink!” you yelled slightly over the music and the other girls were already spying on a group of men nearby. You weaved your way through the mass of bodies, mostly smelling of sweat or alcohol. You reached the bar and flagged down a bartender. “Hey, can I get a Corona and two margaritas please?”

The bartender nodded and turned to grab your beer out of the fridge and gave it to you before going to make the margaritas. You leaned on the bar and looked around while waiting on the drinks and turned to your left to find a pair of brown eyes already looking your way. The brown eyes were accompanied by soft looking lips and a black Stetson. The subtle lines on the corner of his eyes told you he was not your age but attractive nonetheless. He had that classic southern handsome face that just made butterflies erupt in your gut. Looking at him felt like looking at the sun. He cracked a charming crooked smile at you and couldn't stop the same from happening to you.

“Well, hello pretty lady,” the slight drawl in his voice made your heart stop. You could immediately tell he was a classic womanizer, he knew how to get into a woman's pants faster than you could blink. You wouldn't be so easy.

“In your dreams,” you turned back toward the bar, watching the bartender make the drinks.

“Oh believe me, you are sugar.”

This fucking guy.

“Be a little original, then we can talk,” the bartender set your drinks on the counter and you handed him cash. You walked away before the cowboy could say another word.

Of course your friends had seen the man hitting on you and begged for you to go back there. You refused, telling them how you knew his type.

—--

“He’s the type to fuck you and never talk to you again.”

“Maybe you need that! Maybe you need a good fuck.”

She kind of had a point, you hadn't had almost any intimate human contact in a while and he was hot. You weren't really the hookup type but maybe you wanted to be but at this point you were four– no, five beers in and not really caring. You looked around and found the man leaning against the bar talking to a small very annoying looking blonde girl. With a new found courage, you marched your way over to the tall man, was he this tall before?, his attention quickly turning to you.

“We’re dancing.”

You weren't asking, you were telling him. His attention was long gone from the other girl and she was clearly annoyed as he followed you out on the dance floor. As you wove your way through the crowd, he grabbed your wrist, not in a possessive way but enough to make you turn and he spun you into a gentle hold. The two of you spun and laughed as the song continued, hands roaming bodies and cheeks pressed together.

“What's the name of the woman who will haunt my dreams?” You almost wanted to keep up the charade, make him work a little harder. “What name should I moan while I touch myself tonight?”

You nearly collapsed right then and there. Your eyes snapped up to look at him, meeting his that were already darker than before. You practically lunged forward, your face crashing into his, lips melting into each other, tongues fighting for dominance. His hands never stopped in their exploration of your form, one holding the back of your head, never letting you come up for air.

His lips were next to your ear now, his breath warm on your skin. “Wanna get out of here?”

Normally you would never go home with a stranger but there was something about him, and the many beers in your system, that told you to go for it. You found your friends and asked them if they were ok with you going with him, which of course they encouraged. You walked outside the bar to find the mysterious man leaning against his passenger side door of his old Bronco. You haven't felt this way in a long time, you were almost giddy. He made you feel giddy.

“Ready sugar?”

“Hell yea,” he opened the door as you hopped into the convertible and he started the engine. It was a warm summer night in Georgia and the breeze made you feel like you were flying. The radio was playing some sweet country song as you drove through the empty streets late that night.

Every so often he would look over and see your face scrunched up in joy, throwing our head back on the seat singing along to the song playing. He had not intended to find someone so special tonight but here he was, feeling his heart stop when he saw you smile. You were beautiful of course, but there was something else there under the surface that he wanted to explore.

You looked up to find that he had parked on a small cliff overlooking the city, the stars on full display. You gasped as you saw the bright stars above you, expecting to end up at his place or yours.

“Jack. My name is Jack.”

You smiled and tested his name for yourself. “Jack…” your drunkenness made it hard to form words. You told him your name and watched his eyes dance on your face. You were both leaning into each other now, the bench seat preventing any barrier from separating you two. His hand caressed your cheek, his large thumb stroking your skin. You couldn't help your eyes fluttering closed at the sensation, your skin felt like it was on fire. Besides the buzz from the alcohol, you felt light and content and you knew it was because of him. His lips were on yours again, everything fitting just right between you as you slid closer and felt the whole length of his body against yours.

You were starting to feel dizzy, and not from the beer. His presence was overwhelming, like the feeling in the air right before lightning struck. You breathed in his scent, a heady mix of burnt wood and whiskey. As your mouths finally separated, you saw the reflection of the low moonlight in his deep auburn eyes and you knew that he was going to mean more than just a one night stand. You just didn't know how yet.

—--

You smiled down at your phone seeing the name flash on the screen.

“Jack Daniels”

You couldn't believe it when he said that was his real name. The two of you had been texting all day every day for days now, since spending the night with him. You didn't sleep together but you did spend all night talking about everything under the stars.

2:08pm - Jack: Oh you better believe it sugar, I’m the best pizza maker there is.

2:11pm - You: Well, you'll just have to show me in person then.

2:11pm - You: Maybe tonight?

That was earlier that afternoon and you hadn’t heard anything since. It was hard not to be disappointed, you were having good conversation non-stop and to suddenly be cut off was weird. You tried to continue with your days without thinking of him but your mind kept wandering back to that charming man.

—--

It was almost midnight and you were restless beyond belief, not able to get comfortable or let your mind calm itself. You tossed and turned for hours until this point, finally deciding to go into the kitchen and find anything to help you sleep. You rummage through the cabinets and fridge and finally decide to pour yourself a drink, a strong one. The golden liquid swirled in the glass as you poured it, the scent hitting your nose immediately.

Perched on your kitchen counter, you emptied and refilled your class countless times until you were past tired and officially moved on to drunk. Scrolling mindlessly through social media was making your head hurt when you finally made it to your text messages. The name at the top of the screen made your heart sink.

1:14am - Jack: Hi sweetheart.

Fuck.

Nothing for almost a week and then this. What is he thinking? This isn't fair but at the same time you are just excited he texted. Your pulse was through the roof as your fingers ghosted on the keys, trying to find something to say back. Pacing back and forth in the kitchen proved difficult in your state. In a very spontaneous decision you dialed Jack’s number before your mind could catch up. It only rang once before you heard his beautiful voice come through the speaker.

“Darlin’?”

“J-Jack, hi.”

“What are you doing up?” He sounded so groggy and sexy over the phone.

“I-I don't really know,” you couldn't help the giggle that slipped out. “Couldn't sleep I guess.”

You both sat in silence for a while, wanting to say what you truly felt but afraid to disturb the peace.

“Ja–”

“Hon-,” you both spoke at once.

“Jack, I’m a little drunk… and, I need you…now,” you couldn't help the words coming out of your mouth. “You don’t have to… I ju– uhg. I’m sorry...”

“Stay right there and text me your address.”

You didn't really trust your drunk brain at the moment, but did as you were told and sent him your address. Anticipation was eating away at you in the time it took him to drive over. It felt too long and not long enough, you rushed to try and become presentable. You tore into your bathroom and fixed your hair and face as best as you could but you knew he wouldn't believe you wore makeup in the middle of the night so you steered away from the mascara. Your nerves were on fire as you prepared for Jack’s visit. You tried to tidy up your apartment as best as possible, throwing dirty clothes in the closet and hiding embarrassing things. Just as it dawned on you that this man is a perfect stranger, you heard a soft knock at the door. You swallowed the lump in your throat and tiptoed across the floor to the door. Suddenly the small shorts and large T-shirt you wore felt like not enough and too much all at once, but there was no time now. You paused in front of the door and took a breath to try and clear the fog in your head but you knew it was futile. The door creaked open to reveal a slightly disheveled but still very handsome cowboy, minus the hat.

You both stared at each other in disbelief for a moment, then he was on you. Pulling your face into a heated kiss, locking his lips onto yours. He could taste the whiskey on your lips and added that to the list of things he already adored about you. His body pushed against yours until you both hit the wall opposite the door, kicking it closed with his boot. The initial introduction stunned you, putting you in the mercy of this man's will, but now that you had your senses back, you could do what you had always wanted.

You ran your fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp and drawing moans from his chest. Your hands pulled at the cotton of his shirt and the jeans on his hips, trying to get his body closer. It was almost frustrating that you both still had clothes on and you pulled away to tell him that when he locked his arms around your thighs and wrapped them around his torso. You ended up on the couch, straddling his hips while never breaking contact with his lips. The alcohol in your veins was spurring you on, forcing your hips to grind into his. Every movement of your hips was drawing small groans from his chest and caused his hands to roam further on your skin.

“Oh God sugar… I- I have been thinking about y-you for days,” his voice was just above a breath.

“Jack…”

Before you realized, Jack’s sturdy arms flipped your body and your back hit the couch with a soft thud. You giggled as he kissed your face and neck, stopping to suck a mark into the spot right near your collarbone. The feeling of his lips was making your head spin and your toes curl, the arousal licking up your spine like a fever. You could almost feel your very soul surrender to this man, begging to be claimed by him. The slight scratch of his stubble somehow made his lips feel even softer as they danced across your skin. His tongue poked out to lick from the bottom of your neck up to your ear, your breath hitched as you felt his on your skin.

“Tell me… tell me you want this doll, or I can leave… please.”

You wanted nothing more in the world. “Yes God, Jack please.”

The sound of you begging for him made his cock jump. All he could think about since that night at the bar was how you would feel under him, what you taste like and how you could scream for him. He made quick work of pulling your shirt over your head to reveal your soft chest. His lips attacked the peaks of your breasts, causing the warmth to pool low in your pelvis.

He felt like a man possessed, he couldn't get enough of you. He wanted more, he wanted everything. He kissed his way down your body until he came to your thin cotton shorts, that you most definitely were not wearing with underwear. Your breathing skipped as he peeled the fabric off your legs and kissed you the entire way down. His lips were like fire on your already heated skin, blazing the trail to where he wanted you most. His hands and tongue found their way to your dripping center.

You were trying to calm your breathing as he slowly spread your legs and settled between them. You had never had a man take so much care in how you were feeling and how your experience was. It made your heart swell. The sight of his large body that was fully clothed between your legs made you want to cover yourself on instinct but his strong arms were holding your legs apart. His tongue made its way to your delicate center ever so slowly like he was trying to drive you mad. He finally circled around your sensitive clit, making you cry out in ecstasy. He worked his lips and tongue over you like you were his last meal. There was no denying this man knew what he was doing and wasn't afraid to show it.

You bucked your hips into him, trying to gain more friction, needing more than he was giving you. He was only using his mouth and you knew if he used his fingers you would be done for. As you ground yourself into his face, he sucked your bundle of nerves into his mouth and used his tongue to make you see stars.

“Jack, oh god please…” you whined as you anchored your fingers in his hair. “M-more.”

Suddenly you felt his mouth move away from you and you whined at the loss. You looked down to see his face covered in your slick, shining in the dim light. You blushed at the obscene sight. Just when you thought he was about to stand up and move up your body, he brought his hand up to his face and stuck his two middle fingers between his lips. Your mouth gaped open at the sight and a breathy moan followed when he circled those fingers over your center. He slowly pushed his digits into your wet core and you both groaned at the feeling.

“Mhmm, you're gonna feel so good baby girl,” his eyes roamed over your body, watching as you reacted to his movements. “But I want you to come for me first.”

Jack brought his mouth back down to your clit as his fingers started to curl into the spot inside you that made you see stars. He worked his mouth and fingers together, creating a rhythm that made you dizzy with lust. Men never did this, never put your desire first, no matter what they wanted. Jack was another story, he was clearly there for you and you alone. His fingers and tongue were moving in tandem, drawing pure pleasure from you. The pressure in your lower stomach was growing by the second, almost to the point of pain but you never wanted him to stop. He kept up his movements and knew you were close when your breaths came quicker and you tightened around his fingers. Jack was nothing if not a gentleman and he proved that tonight, making sure your pleasure came first. You rocked your hips into his face, grinding against him with your hands pulling his slightly curly hair. You climbed closer to your peak sooner than ever before, it was like this man had a spell over you, something that forced the pleasure from you.

“Fu-fuck, baby– I..I’m so…” you were officially mad with lust.

“I know honey, let go for me.” Jack’s voice was like honey, somehow drawing you closer to the edge.

He settled into a steady but harsh rhythm, almost moving the couch below you. You knew you were right there, right on the edge of the cliff about to fall off. The blood in your veins burned with pure passion.

Without much warning, your body ignited. Your orgasm ripped through you like wildfire, fast and sudden. Your lungs screamed for air and your vision went white. You dug your nails into his hair, locking him in place and he rode you through your high. The muscles in your core constricted around his fingers and your back arched to compensate for the intense feelings.

You had never cum like that in your life, ever. This man was like no one you had ever met.

“Fuck… what– what was that?,” your voice didn't sound like your own.

“Oh sugar… we're just getting started.”

------

MASTERLIST

#agent whiskey smut #din dijarin x reader #fanfic #reader fanfiction #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels smut #jack daniels #pedro pascal #din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin smut #din djarin x you #star wars smut #star wars #Spotify

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