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zaldritzosrose · 6 months ago

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Burn With Me (Masema Dagar x Goddess!Reader)

Summary: Masema had become a devoted follower the moment he saw you, but he had never anticipated just how far he would go to prove his devotion.

TW: MINORS DNI. She/Her pronouns, mixed person POV, afab reader, innuendo, mentions of death, fingering, eventual sex, slightly rough sex, flirting, bath sex, Masema being soft and a little subby (if you squint) and reader being a literal goddess.

Words: 3712 words

[Masema’s POV]

The feeling was indescribable, the feeling of finally understanding and belonging. Masema thought he had felt it when he saw Rand al'Thor. Those who had heard the prophecy saw Rand as the Dragon Reborn. Though the man himself had vehemently denied it. Claiming he was little more than a messenger.

But the question was, a messenger for who?

Rand had been adamant, claiming to hear the whispers that now set his path in life. A life Masema was interested in following too. But when asked who whispered to him, the man would go silent, always claiming it was not the time to tell, though Rand would promise that time would soon come.

Which did nothing but frustrate Masema.

Not knowing was a feeling he hated. Being left in the dark was not something he enjoyed.

The fight between Rand and Ishamael, the Forsaken, had drawn more than just normal spectators. It had drawn followers. Followers of Rand and Ishamael respectively. All determined for their chosen leader to prevail. Masema had long chosen his side. Following Rand wherever he went, lending his sword to his cause.

Chants of Rand’s name filled the square even before the fight began. No one knew when she had arrived. Cloaked in the colours of flames. But they all saw her watching.

Saw the way Rand seemed to pause mid advance when she approached. That was curious in and of itself. She was silent, but her very presence had even Masema tearing his eyes from the duel before him, and he continued to watch her throughout the battle.

Whispers surrounded her. That she was the Dragon that Rand spoke so reverently of. A being not of this world. A soul bound in fire. Just as Rand had claimed - he was merely a weapon for her to wield.

Masema could hear those whispers in his head. The words Rand would occasionally let slip.

“Where are you going?” Masema asked as Rand packed his bag and hooked his sword over his shoulder.

“The fight approaches, I will need all the help I can get.” Rand had responded and Masema was more confused than before.

So, he followed Rand. Out of camp, remaining out of site. To his surprise, Rand did not go far. A few miles through the forest that surrounded them, and the two men were greeted with a small, but well-built temple.

Rand did not seem surprised to see it. But Masema was. How had he not known such a place dwelled in these trees? He had passed this forest hundreds of time in his life.

What Masema saw next, was not what he expected. A woman leaving the temple, body barely covered by the flame red silks she wore. And Rand, dropping to his knees before her and presenting his sword. Masema watched in awe as Rand bowed his head and the mysterious woman ran her hand along the blade. He could not hear what she said, but he could feel the air change, heavy and charged in a way he had never felt before.

Masema left before Rand, not wanting to be caught spying. He knew better than to ever ask what had happened at the temple.

Now, the same woman appeared in the square. Face covered by a heavy hood, not even a hint of what she looked like beneath. And the mystery gnawed at Masema’s mind. She had to be the woman from the temple, the coincidence was too good to not be true.

Her appearance had drawn his attention from the fight, and he had not even noticed the fight was no longer in Rand’s favour. Ishamael was winning and Masema’s heart sank.

Then, he felt it. That thick and heavy air. The burning torches that circled the makeshift duelling ring seemed to burn brighter. And it all seemed to centre…on her.

That was the only explanation he felt made sense. The change had only begun on her arrival. The hairs on his arms stood on end, his heart pounded. His eyes refused to leave her.

Then he heard it. The soft chanting. Words he did not understand, but he knew he did not need to. Her voice seemed to travel through the crowd. Masema watched the tide turn in Rand’s favour. As if life and strength had been breathed back into him. Ishamael was brought to the ground with a final strike, but Rand was in worse shape than he appeared as the Forsaken fell at his feet.

Everyone was silent. Not sure if Rand was living or dead. Blood coated his shirt and he seemed to barely move.

No one questioned when she knelt at Rand’s side. It was like those around knew not to. But all Masema could do was watch. Watch as her hands drifted over Rand's motionless form, all manner of fire around them seemed to blaze stronger every time she moved or spoke. Like it was drawn to her. Just as he was.

That's when Masema knew. It was solidified within him the moment Rand awoke, as alive and healthy as he had been before battle. All at her power and will.

She was the one he must follow. The one he must devote his very life to.

His Dragon. His goddess.

The crowd had erupted into cheers when Rand moved to kneel at her feet, paying his respects to his goddess, as people now realised that is what she was. People surrounded Rand, praising his prowess in battle, thanking him for finally destroying the threat that was Ishamael.

But Masema could only see her. The way she had quietly thanked Rand for his reverence and moved deeper back into the crowd as they shouted his praises. And Masema was quick to follow, not prepared to lose sight of her in the sea of people.

“Wait…please!” Masema called as he watched the soft oranges of her hood weave through the crowd.

However, she did not stop. But the way she looked back through the sheer fabric of her cloak made him realise something. She wanted to be followed.

Masema shoved his way through the crowd, barely keeping up with her as she seemed to move through it like water over sand. Smooth, almost too…perfectly. Only when the crowd thinned did she stop, appearing to look at the fruit on a nearby market stall. He soon caught up, almost sliding to a stop in his rush not to lose her.

“Determined one, hmm?”

Her voice was so soft, yet it sent a shiver down his spine and up again. Masema did not know how he expected her to sound, but his imagination would have never conjured something as beautiful as the truth was. When he did not answer, she turned to look at him. Even in the shadowed cowl of her hood, he could see the soft amber glow of her eyes and the faintest hint of a smirk. Her head tilted as if studying him, like a curious animal.

Masema cleared his throat and tried to introduce himself.

“Oh, I know who you are, Masema Dagar.”

[Reader’s POV]

You had never had a follower as devoted as Masema, and you remembered every one of them. There was nothing he would not do in your name. Slaughter swathes of men, build a temple. Masema was yours to demand the world of if you chose to.

You had warned him what it would cost. Even Rand had warned him. The price one must pay to follow a being like you. You refused the name goddess, the title of The Dragon, despite the continued use of such monikers. The names brought fear, devotion and at times even joy to some. Those were the costs.

“Nothing will be simple, if you choose to follow me,” you had cautioned gently when Masema first stepped into your temple.

The same temple he had followed Rand to. The small, unassuming stone building that seemed woefully inadequate for someone like you. But you had assured him you were more than happy with it. It had been a haven to you for as long as you remembered, and you preferred the inconspicuous nature of such a small place.

Now, the temple was somewhere he spent most of his time. When he was not spreading the message of your existence that is. You had not tried to stop him, nor had you ordered him to. Masema simply chose to. You were his goddess, his dragon. Everything he did was for you.

Some of those things, however, caused rifts in those that followed you. Some even left as a result, refusing to devote themselves to someone who could sanction such atrocities. And you let them. You had no time for people who could not accept darkness to see light.

No one knew when Masema had become more than just a follower. Where Rand could once have been argued to be your voice, Masema was your blade. Defending you against any who would dare oppose you, though those people were fewer in number thanks to him.

Masema had been gone for weeks, a pilgrimage in your name, he had claimed. You knew what that meant. Spreading the Prophecy of the Dragon Reborn, of you. Collecting those who agreed and believed. Eliminating those who would not.

Rumours spread of his fanaticism, but he ignored them. His only path now, was you.

The distant flicker of flames told you he was returning, and you could hardly stop yourself from rushing from the door of your temple to greet him. No matter how you tried to hide it, you were as devoted to Masema as he was to you. For all the mysticism that surrounded you, you were still a woman.

Thundering hooves soon slowed as his silhouette came into view against the fading sunlight, the torches behind him creating the most beautiful halo. His horse barely came to a stop before he swung himself from it to greet you. You had never quite seen him so riled as he was now. Wild eyed and it was as though you could feel the excitement vibrating from his very being.

“All of them…” was all he managed to say as he made his way to you.

“They all chose you.”

More and more torches told you what he meant. Followers. The towns and villages he had travelled to, all of them must have heard his words and made their choice. The right choice. The new followers seemed to keep coming, but you only had eyes for Masema. In the months he had been at your side, his devotion had reached a fever pitch. Only leaving your side when he felt the need to spread your words.

“All of them?” you asked, holding a hand out to him, which he took with more gentleness than he had ever thought himself capable of.

“Yes, my goddess, all of them.”

The new additions to your following were busy making themselves at home in the small encampment that had been created around your temple. The more people that joined you, the more space they needed. You did not mind. More followers made you feel more powerful. Not just in the sheer size of the group, but physically. The more people that believed in your power, the stronger you grew.

You were safely inside your temple, where you spent most nights now. The encampment was always busy and at times, you needed to be away from the chaos. To be with your thoughts, to be able to hear the words the flames spoke to you.

The bath you let yourself float in was large, spanning the backroom of your temple and kept hot and filled with numerous petals. Soft, swirling smoke from the burning incense filled the room and half clouded your form. Despite bathing, you were clothed in thin layers of sheer fabrics, just to avoid the chance of a follower seeing your nude form without permission.

You had not heard the door to your temple open, nor the soft thud of boots against the stone floor as Masema entered. One of few without permission to enter unannounced. It was, however, the first time he had entered while you were bathing. It was the clearing of his throat that made you turn to see him.

“Is there something you need?” you asked, as if you were not lounging in the steaming water.

You allowed yourself to float to the side closest to Masema, leaning on your arms and smiling up at him. The look on his face was priceless. Averting his gaze to everywhere but you, for the first time since he had joined your cause.

“You can look, you know. If anyone has earned that privilege, it is you, Masema.”

Only then did he look down. Taking in your wet figure, hair sticking to your skin and the sheer fabrics clinging to every dip and curve of your body. A smirk tugged at your lips when he licked his lips unconsciously at the sight.

“Do you want to join me? As a reward for being so…loyal?”

Masema had yet to utter a single word. You held out a hand, a gesture to show him you were serious. If anyone deserved something from you, it was him. None had been more loyal. None had sacrificed as much as he had. All for you.

It was the least you could do in return for such things.

He had never been as speechless as he was now. He had simply entered your temple to bring the news that the new followers were settled and preparing a small feast in your honour. And here you were, offering something so intimate to him.

“I need words, or I will take your silence as rejection,” you purred, gently wiggling your fingers causing small droplets of water to hit the stone below.

Masema blinked before finally speaking.

“Are you sure?”

His question was heavy with so many implications. Were you sure on him joining you, were you so certain of his loyalty to grant him something like this? Questions burned in his mind.

“I have never been more sure.”

That was enough to have him stripping down to no more than the linen trousers he tended to wear around the encampment, built for comfort over practicality or defence. And now it was your turn to stare in wonder. You may have been the one worshipped, but Masema was built like a god himself. Thick lines of muscle covered his torso, and you already felt the burning desire to touch every inch of him.

There were few times in your life that you had ever felt such intense emotions, but what you felt for Masema could have burned you from the inside.

As he made to remove the last piece of his clothing, you made a small show of loosening the tie at your neck. Letting the sheer fabrics float away from your body, leaving you as bare as he was. His eyes followed your every movement as he neared the edge of the pool you called a bath. You floated from the side as he slipped into the water, quietly hissing at the sheer heat you seemed to enjoy.

“Too hot for you?” you asked, making your way back over to him.

Masema chuckled, his skin tingling from the hot water, but it soon became a comfortable temperature.

“Truly made of fire, aren’t you…” he murmured, his voice echoing slightly in the bath chamber.

The tension was thick. It was not the first time you had been alone with Masema, but this was the most intimate it had ever felt. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you as you swam back over to him, the petals in the water swirling around you. He unconsciously backed himself against the wall, leaning back and resting his arms on the stone side. You did not hesitate to close the distance, pressing yourself against him while giving the chance to push you away.

“You truly are my most loyal of followers, you know, and I appreciate that,” you purred, waiting only a moment longer before you were sure he was comfortable with more.

Your hand trailed over his chest, dripping the hot water on his skin, and listening to him hiss just a little at the contact but he let you continue. His mismatched eyes never left yours, watching every movement you made.

“All I have done, is in your name…” he let his instincts take over as you explored his body.

Lips and teeth on his neck while your hands dipped beneath the water, trailing down the dips and contours of his body. Masema chewed his lip as pleasure began to take over. He had never imagined he would ever get this close, but he had pictured the moment night after night. Moaning out your name in the safety of his tent as he would fuck his hand.

“I would do anything for you.”

Those words. It was not the first time he had uttered them. Like a mantra, he would repeat them in the moments before he left to spread her words. But anything was a strong claim.

“Anything?”

There was a weight behind your words that had him groaning softly. Combined with the path your hands travelled, his mind was as hazy as the incense filled room. Confidence took him as one of his arms wrapped around your waist, pressing you harder against his body and letting you feel just how your touch affected him.

“Anything.” Masema responded, the tips of his fingers tracing patterns over your back.

Your hands travelled back up to his broad shoulders as your forehead rested against his. He could feel your breath on his skin, the sweet scent of your skin in his nostrils. Everything about had him intoxicated and the feeling of your skin on his only heightened those feelings.

His other hand caressed your hip, the softness of his touch making you close your eyes for just a moment. Your lips ghosting over his own, a single movement and he would kiss you.

“Would you burn with me?”

He did not answer with words, but with a heated kiss. Which you did not hesitate to reciprocate. Lips and teeth clashing as he poured everything, he felt for you into one kiss. His reverence, his desire, his love. No matter what happened, you were his. Whatever you gave him, he would take gladly. His arms wrapped around your waist and lifted you to one of the steps of your bath and quickly slipped himself between your parted thighs. Masema could think of nothing but you. How you would taste, how you would feel as he buried himself deep inside your warmth. And nothing would stop him from finding out. You did not stop him as his fingers parted your folds, the water and your own slick already giving him little resistance as he pushed them inside.

The moan received in response sent a wave of desire through his very soul and he was determined to hear it again and again. His pace was slow and purposeful, letting you feel every callous and ridge on his skin as explored you like he was mapping every inch.

“I would burn with you, I would burn the world to ash if you asked it of me,” he whispered into your neck as he matched the intensity of his kisses to the pace of his fingers.

You could feel the band in your belly tighten as your release seemed to hit you faster than ever before. Your hands found anywhere you could, his hair, his shoulders, as he fucked you through your climax.

“Masema…”

The sound of his name on your lips as you came was near enough to have him find his own release. But he needed to feel you, to bury his cock as deep as he could go and never leave. You were his goddess and he planned to worship every inch of you. As he pulled his fingers from your cunt, he growled at the heat that seemed to linger on his skin.

You had waited long enough, you needed him as much as he needed you. With a hand tight in his hair, now loose from its usual tie, you pressed your lips to his as you hooked a leg around his waist. There was no need for words, he knew what you wanted.

There was little gentleness now as he entered you, burying himself to the hilt with a deep growl into the crook of your neck. Your teeth bit down into his shoulder as he began to pound in and out of you. Your head dropped back, and your body was near limp as he found an intense rhythm. The flames in the room seemed to dance as you cried out his name, your pleasure and power filling the room.

“So good for me, so loyal to me…” you moaned, as he urged you back to lie down onto the stone below.

Masema could only grunt and growl in response, face buried between the wet swell of you breasts as he leaned over you. His thrusts slowed a little as he tried to savour the moment. The heat of the water seemed to sizzle around the two of you but neither of you noticed. The only thing that mattered was the feel of each other.

His thrusts became sloppy as he felt your walls clench around as you neared your second release. Nails dug into his back as he gripped your hips, the sound of skin slapping against skin lewdly filling your temple. A place of worship that had become a place of carnal pleasures.

“My goddess...my dragon…” Masema huffed into your skin as he rutted into a few more times before you felt the thick ropes of his seed coat your insides.

Your legs locked around his waist as he rested his face against your body. Your hands carding through his hair. His cock softening inside you, but he made no moves to slide out of you. You smiled softly as you heard him whisper,

“Let me burn with you.”

Tags:

@legitalicat @foxyanon @whitedarkmoonflower @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @thenameswinter99

As always, thanks to @whitedarkmoonflower and @sihtricfedaraaahvicius for their amazing stills.

And to @foxyanon and @legitalicat for beta'ing!

#masema dagar #masema x reader #wheel of time #masema x you #masema dagar x you #reader insert #reader fanfiction #x reader smut #masema dagar smut

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returnsandreturns · 10 months ago

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@snakeoilsalesdepartment, I saw you reblog the original one and my brain spit this out. For you:

All that Foggy hears is someone frantically saying, “Kiss me,” before he makes eye contact with an objectively hot guy and kisses him first. The guy backs him up against the nearest tree and they make out for about a minute before the guy backs up.

“We could have stopped that like forty five seconds ago,” the guy says, breathlessly, patting Foggy's arm, “but you're an extremely good kisser, dude. Gentle but firm, somehow. Props for that.”

“Thanks,” Foggy says, laughing. “Are you going to explain what just happened? Did you suddenly get hit with the need to kiss someone and I was the closest person? I'm Foggy, by the way.”

“Shawn Spencer,” Shawn says, “and I'll have you know that I am extremely discerning about the people I kiss to hide myself from the very large men who chase me because they think I cheated at poker games that I actually won because I have a keen sense of observation and, also, natural charm.”

Foggy takes a second to process that sentence.

“Are you implying that you're chased by large men frequently?” he asks.

“I live a wayward life, Foggy,” Shawn says. “I'm a nomad. A vagabond. Frequently unemployed. So, I occasionally sneak into high stakes poker games to keep food in my belly and gel in my hair. The essentials.”

“You seem. . .very interesting,” Foggy says, slowly.

“You have the softest hair I've ever had the honor of touching,” Shawn says, reaching up to tuck Foggy's hair behind his ear which is stupidly charming, “and a truly stunning smile. What do you say we ride this moment out as long as we can? Coffee? Laser tag? Gay sex?”

“Let's. . .start with coffee,” Foggy says, grinning and letting Shawn throw an arm around him as they walk. “See how it goes.”

—

“How did you know I was into guys?” Foggy asks, when they're tucked away in the corner of a small coffee shop.

“Oh, I didn't,” Shawn says. “You just had a kind face that also said ‘strong ally or a Kinsey two and a half,’ so I figured you probably wouldn't punch me, at least. Then you kissed me, y’know, the way that you did, and blushed when I touched your hair. Adorable, by the way.”

Foggy blushes again, shaking his head when Shawn beams at him.

“Adorable,” he repeats. “So, laser tag?”

“Or gay sex,” Foggy says.

“I'd be interested in exploring a hybrid of both,” Shawn says, warmly, “but I'll admit, the second one sounds—oh, shit.”

He grabs a pen from Foggy's messenger bag and scrawls out a phone number on a napkin before giving Foggy a firm kiss, saying, “Please call me,” and jumping over the table to run out of the coffee shop.

Closely followed by multiple very large men.

#daredevil #psych #my fic #shawn spencer #foggy nelson #i feel like i have a trinity of brunette men from tv comedies i'm good at writing and they should all kiss foggy nelson #them being shawn and jake peralta and nick miller

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ubernatural · 2 months ago

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Due to the overwhelming majority of positive votes on my poll, this is a small snip of my as of now unnamed destiel fic. Please please please talk to me about how I can improve or what you liked about it <3

———

Cas was alone. Again. His roommate had fucked off, predictably, and left him to stew alone in their half unpacked room right before his first classes of the year. Normally, he’s fine being by himself. Thrives in it, really. But after the way he left things with his family, he’s craving human contact more than ever.

His parents will tell you he “ran away,” but, really, he just never told them he got accepted into KU. He just packed his bags, and left for the fall semester. He had been working jobs since he was fifteen and had saved every last cent of his pay, so he had some money to help with tuition. He also got one mean scholarship, so all he really needs are the books. But that won't stop his parents from calling him “selfish” and “entitled” when all he really wants is to live his life not being constantly squished into the image of the perfect son that hasn’t fit him in a long ass time.

It also doesn’t help that they are super religious and did not support him coming out as gay. They insisted it was a “phase” and “would pass.” But Cas had known for years that he was into men. He knew it before when he picked a girl in class to “like” just so he would fit in. He knew it in Senior year when Hannah, a girl in his school, invited him over to her house to study, or so he thought. She said she was going to change into something more comfortable and he figured that meant pajamas, but apparently that meant buck ass nude. He was embarrassed and, frankly, grossed out. He made a speedy exit, and avoided her for the rest of the year. His parents, Chuck in particular, kept asking him what ever happened to “that lovely Hannah girl.” Well, now they know why they never saw her again.

Pushing away the thought of his family, he rises from his bed to get ready. He throws on a pair of worn dark wash jeans, a black shirt, and pulls a battered gray zip-up over it all. He grabs the old messenger bag he was able to snatch from his father before he left, and fills it with the books he’s going to need today.

The walk to class was pretty uneventful. It was a nice day, and Cas only got lost once. He quickly asked for directions, and was relieved that he wasn’t even that far off course.

He was still pretty proud of himself when he got to the lecture hall. It was relatively full, but not so that it was hard to find a seat. He ended up picking one close to the middle next to a small redhead with glasses. They shared a polite smile before she reached her hand out for him to shake. “Hey there. I’m Charlie.”

Cas tentatively grasped her hand and gave it a firm shake. “Hello, Charlie. My name is Castiel.”

“Oh, that’s so cool! I might have to steal it for my new DnD character,” she playfully shoots back.

“Yes, well, you would be too late considering it’s already the name of mine.” His lips tick up in a smile as he sees her face brighten.

“Dude, you should totally come over and play sometime! I’ve only got one other friend who plays, and his younger brother who’s usually our DM.” Her eyes widen a fraction before she continues frantically, “I mean, obviously you don’t have to, and this is kinda weird since we know basically nothing about each other and-”

“I would love to join you, Charlie.” He cuts off her rambling before she can talk herself out of his invite.

Her face splits into a wide grin, and she’s beaming again. “Did we just become besties?” she asks.

“Yes, I believe we did,” Cas amusedly answers.

The Queen: handmaiden, come quick

emergency dnd meet in my room

now!

and bring the good popcorn

Dean gets the text as he’s finishing his last class for today. He’s pretty drained from all of the “introduce yourself” and “get to know you” chats that he was forced into all day. The sun’s setting, and all he really wanted was to curl up in bed and maybe watch Tombstone for the millionth time. But he loves Charlie, and he can’t refuse his queen. He shoots off a text saying he’ll be right there, and heads for his room to get the requested snack.

Ten minutes later, he’s standing outside Charlie’s dorm with the half cheesy, half caramel popcorn that she likes. He knocks once and is utterly unprepared for what he sees when he lets himself in.

“Hey, Charles-”

He stops in his tracks as he takes in the scene. Charlie and some guy are sitting on the floor as Charlie is very animatedly ranting about something or another and the guy is just sitting there, softly but excitedly smiling at her. Upon second glance, the guy is hot. He’s wearing a shirt that hugs his shoulders perfectly and matches his messy black curls. The guy also has a straight nose and full lips. When he looks up at Dean, he’s struck by just how blue his eyes are. Blue enough to drown in. Shut up, brain.

Their impromptu staring contest is interrupted by Charlie springing up from her spot on the floor and practically yanking him all the way inside the room. “Dean,” she says, “this is Castiel. We have English together and he mentioned he plays DnD, so I invited him over to see if we could coerce you and Sam into getting a game started.” He raises a quizzical brow and her responding look says “just go with it.”

“Uh, hey, man,” he says, transferring the nearly forgotten bag of popcorn under his left arm, reaching the other out for the guy to shake.

“Hello, Dean.” And damn, if he hadn't thought this guy was hot before, he definitely thinks so now. His voice is whiskey smooth yet still has a gargling gravel quality to it. His handshake is strong, too. And just as he realizes that fact, he also recognizes that he’s held this guy's hand for a beat too long and was staring again.

He clears his throat and extracts his hand, trying to control the flush he’s feeling. Judging by the small smirk on this Castiel guy’s face, he’s failed miserably.

Turning back to Charlie, resolutely ignoring the self satisfied smile on her smug little face, he extracts the popcorn from under his arm and offers it to her with a small bow. “M’lady,” he recites.

“Why thank you, handmaiden,” she says liltingly, and pats him on the head.

“Anything for you, my queen,” he says as he straightens.

He throws a glance back over at the guy, who is doing a comically adorable squint-tilt of confusion. He sniggers a little to himself. Where did Charlie find this guy? “So, Cas,” he starts, “are you a sweet or salty kind of guy?”

The squint deepens until the whole look smoothes out. “Well, I prefer sweet to salty snacks, if that’s what you’re asking. Although I do believe that opinion is almost entirely based off of my older brother sharing his sugar addiction with me.” His face turned contemplative and almost yearning.

“Well, that’s good since that half and half crap she has me pick up is more 70-30 on carmel to cheese. Now it works out,” he grins, “you two can split the 70 and I’ll get the 30 all to myself.”

“That’s… agreeable.”

His smile widens much more than the comment earned, but he can’t help it. He’s swooning and the man only said two words. “Great, I’ll get Sammy on the phone. Charles, why don’t you and Cas set up the game?”

Sam picks up on the third ring, predictably still awake and not trying to ignore his big brother. “Hey, Dean. How did your first day go?”

“Ah, it was alright, Sammy. Met some people, found some classes, nothing real eventful until now.”

“Until now? What does that mean?” He sounds equal parts concerned and cautious.

“Nothing bad, you can relax. Charlie found herself a new bestie, and we were just wonderin’ if your dungeon master skills could be brought out for a quick game.”

There’s a large sigh on the other end of the phone before he inevitably relents. “Fine. Put me on speaker, I’ll go get my notes.”

“Yes, Sammy!” he shouts excitedly “This is why I love you.” He puts his phone on speaker and flashes a thumbs up at the other two in the room who had looked up at his outburst.

“There’s gotta be more reasons than that, jerk,” Sam replies petulantly.

“Why don’t you come over here and find out, bitch,” he throws back.

There's grumbling and shuffling on the phone, and Dean grins triumphantly, even though the comeback didn't make much sense. “Ok,” Sam pauses, “am I on speaker?”

“Yeah. Hi, Sam!” comes Charlie’s reply.

“Hi, Char. And, uh, hi, Charlie’s new bestie?”

“Hello, Sam. My name is Castiel. It is good to speak with you.” Dean could listen to Castiel read an organic chemistry textbook and never get bored.

“Hello, Castiel. It’s nice to meet a fellow nerd,” Sam jokes.

Cas laughs and if Dean likes his voice, he loves his laugh. He could bottle it up and get drunk on it each night. God, when did he turn into such a sap?

They stay on the phone with Sam through a two hour adventure that he found lying in his notes. Afterwards, it’s pretty late, but they stick around and chat for a bit. They find out some random things about Cas, like, he’s 20 (just a year younger than Dean), his favorite animal is a bee (”But that’s not an animal, Cas, It’s an insect.” “And insects are a type of animal, Dean.”), he has one older brother, and apparently is in a band.

“No way, dude! That’s so cool! What do you play?” Charlie practically bounces off of her perch on the edge of her bed in excitement.

“Well, I play guitar, but I also sing, sometimes.” He shrugs, “We’re very flexible with who takes the lead, though. It usually comes down to who wrote the song and what they want to do with it.” He then smiles shyly, “Then again, most of the songs are mine as well, with more than a few written by my friend, Meg.”

Charlie nearly chokes on her own spit. “Wait, Meg, as in Meg Masters?”

The squint-tilt is back. “Yes. Megara Masters. Do you know her?”

Charlie scoffs, “Know her? No. Know of her? Hell yes. What kind of lesbian would I be if I didn't know the hottest gay in school?”

“Hey,” Dean protests, “the hottest gay is obviously that Aaron guy.”

She reached over and gently laid her hand on his cheek, “Oh, sweetie,” she said pleasantly, “you keep telling yourself that.” She pats his cheek lightly before she withdraws her hand. The whole exchange leaves Cas more than a little confused.

The topics ebb and flow however it wants, and soon they’re debating the merits of each Hogwarts house.

“I don’t care what either of you buffoons have to say, I gotta back my girl Harmionie,” Charlie yells.

“We’re not talking about characters, Char, We’re talking about the house itself!” Dean yells back.

“But if we were talking about characters,” Cas chimes, “That would give Hufflepuff a point because of Sedric.”

“Oh, yea?” Charlie snaps. “And where’s Sedric now, Cas? That's right, he’s dead,”

Dea narrows his eyes, “That was a low blow, Char.” No one disrespects Sedric and gets away with it.

Cas is about to speak, presumably to come to Dean’s aid, when his phone chimes. “Oh dear,” he says.

“What is it, Cas?” Dean asks as nonchalantly as he can, but if the look Charlie shot at him is anything to go by, it didn't work very well.

He laughs breathily at his phone and begins tapping away, speaking distractedly as he goes. “It looks like it’s much later than I thought, and Gabriel seems to have been trying to contact me for quite some time now.” He bites his lip thoughtfully before he starts typing again. Dean tries not to let his gaze snag on the gesture.

“If you gotta go, man, that’s cool,” Dean relents.

“Yeah,” Charlie chimes, “we should all probably get some sleep, anyways.”

“Yes I think I might do just that,” Cas answers. Just then his phone starts buzzing in his hand. “I have to take this, but it was lovely meeting both of you, and I hope we can possibly do this again sometime?”

“Of course, dude,” Charlie answers and goes in for a hug. Cas is a bit awkward, but he’s smiling, so it can’t be too bad. “We nerds gotta stick together!” she declares.

Dean sticks his hand out for Cas to shake. It’s firm and strong and lasts a little bit longer than a normal handshake, but Dean’s probably just imagining that. He also probably imagined when Cas’ eyes seemed to flick down to his lips. He had to have imagined it. No way would this guy be interested in a sack like Dean.

Cas seems to come back to himself abruptly when his forgotten phone starts buzzing again. He answers swiftly with a sort of fond and annoyed look that belongs to most younger brothers. “Gabriel, ya kak raz sobiralsya pozvonit'. Chto vam nuzhno?” He casually shoots them a wave, and closes the door on his way out.

Dean and Charlie are left staring after him in shock. Was that Russian?

#spn #dean winchester #destiel #castiel #sam winchester #supernatural #writers on tumblr #my fic #I don’t have a beta yet so if you’ve gotten this far and have thoughts don’t be shy

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aceghosts · 21 days ago

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DEAD MAN WALKING

Series Summary: In February 2005, Captain Hunter Delaney is tragically killed in action on a BSAA mission in Northern Canada. After their death, scientists and BSAA agents related to the mission start to die. Albert Wesker intends to find out who is killing them, hoping to use this stranger to his advantage. Rating: Mature Warnings: Canon typical violence, Body Horror, and unethical experimentation on humans. Mentions of a corpse, death, and torture. This is a horror fic with eventual romance; you have been warned. If I need to tag for anything else, please let me know. Words: 3,341 words. Author's Note: Chapter title comes from Placebo's Infra-Red. I didn’t mean to take this long between the first chapter and the second chapter. Good news is that I hope to have another chapter out for you at the beginning of November. AO3

CHAPTER 2: FORGET YOUR RUNNING, I WILL FIND YOU

A few months later…

Albert parks the black Mercedes in front of the two-story brick house. Hidden out of the way in this idyllic neighborhood, the quaint home was perfect for someone portraying himself as a simple family man. It was a terrible hiding place if you were Dr. Jeremy Fuller, a man stupid enough to steal from Albert Wesker. Perhaps, Jeremy wanted something familiar, knowing he was living on stolen time. From time to time, animals had been known to crawl back to their hovels, seeking comfort in their impending death. Jeremy must be like them; he certainly was as pathetic as a dying animal. Stepping out of the sedan, Albert closes the car door behind him, striding toward the front door.

Wait…He stops in his tracks, eyes narrowing behind dark shades. The red front door is open, showing no signs of forced entry. Had Jeremy already left with his family, hoping to avoid Albert? Or was poor, naive Jeremy simply setting a trap for him? Albert quietly tuts, shaking his head. Jeremy was only prolonging his suffering. The more annoyed Albert was, the more he would draw out Jeremy’s demise. He silently stalks towards the front door, hand slipping beneath his long, black coat, resting on his Samurai Edge.

Pushing the door open, Albert keenly listens for the sound of movement inside the home. He only hears the slow drip of a faucet, most likely from one of the upstairs bathrooms. The home is unnaturally quiet, devoid of any life. As he steps inside, Albert glances around the doorway, noticing the small unusual details, particularly that there were no signs of a frantic exit. Men’s dress shoes and a leather messenger bag are left by the door, presumably by Jeremy in preparation for his day at work. Albert kneels, inspecting the bag more. Jeremy’s laptop is still there. He must not have run, not at least without the laptop. Now, Albert had only one question: where was Jeremy?

Starting his slow ascent up the stairs in the foyer, Albert eyes the family photos on the beige wall. Each photo is of Jeremy and his family, Jeremy looking so proud. He scoffs at Jeremy’s foolish pride. Relationships were weaknesses to be exploited. Albert used spouses, children, siblings, and grandparents to advance his agenda. People were so easy to manipulate, especially when they had someone to care about. One of the photos, a photograph of Jeremy and his family at breakfast, brings a memory back to Albert’s mind.

—

Albert unlocks the door to the Birkin home, stepping inside. Will gave him the key the moment Will and Annette had moved into the house. Albert pulls his boots off, dropping his bag beside them. Hearing the sounds of Sherry’s laughter, Albert heads towards the kitchen, wondering what mischief Sherry and William have gotten into now.

As he reaches the kitchen, Will turns, spotting and smiling at him. “Hey Al! Here for breakfast, huh?”

“Uncle Al!” Sherry exclaims, excitement shining brightly in her blue eyes. She runs over, hugging him tightly. After Will and Annette, Albert was Sherry’s third favorite person. She spent almost as much time with him as with her parents, which wasn’t much.

“Good morning, Sherry,” Albert greets her, petting Sherry’s head as she fondly releases him. He shakes his head. “No, I’m here to make sure you go to the lab today. We have more work to do.”

Will groans. “We would have more time if you didn’t have to play pretend with S.T.A.R.S.”

“That isn’t my choice. Spencer needs a man inside,” Albert replies, sliding a chair out and taking a seat next to Sherry, as she sits, vibrating with excitement, “We won’t have to do this much longer.”

“I hope so,” Will grumbles from the kitchen.

“Albert.” Annette greets him coolly as she strides into the kitchen.

“Annette.” Turning to Sherry, Albert asks, “How was school this week?” He catches Will giving him a ‘You got yourself into this’ look as Annette smirks.

Smiling brightly, Sherry launches into a long-winded explanation of how she aced her test, beating everyone in her class. As Albert takes in the simple domestic scene around him, he can’t help but feel slightly at peace here with his friends and their daughter.

—

A low growl escapes Albert as he shakes the silly memory from his head. He never asked Will if he regretted marrying Annette and having Sherry. Something like that would have been an off-topic subject for lifelong friends. Besides, Albert knew the answer. Annette and Sherry had been a weakness, costing Will his life. Even if Albert longed for the companionship of another, no one would be his equal, especially not after his transformation.

As Albert makes his way to the master bedroom, he passes the other rooms of the home, occasionally glancing towards the bedrooms. Jeremy’s son’s bedroom, Alan, looked as if he planned to return that afternoon. So did the daughter’s, Lizzie’s, bedroom. Interesting.

Reaching the master bedroom, Albert silently pushes the door open, surveying the room. No one waits for him in hiding, the bedroom completely empty. On the neatly made bed, Albert spies a yellow legal pad, a ballpoint pen lying beside it. Striding over, Albert picks up the pad, noting the deeply indented words marked on the paper. Narrowing his eyes, he notes that it is Jeremy’s handwriting, hastily scrawled, almost as if it were under duress. It appears to be a list of names, with the final name circled: Dr. Charles Griffin. Placing the legal pad down, Albert questions what Dr. Griffin had to do with this. As far as Albert was concerned, Dr. Griffin was an annoyance. An idiot masquerading as a genius. Dr. Griffin, delusional, believed his work would change the world. That honor would belong to Albert alone.

Looking to his left, Albert notices the door to the master bathroom is slightly ajar. He approaches the bathroom, the damp carpet squelching under his feet as he nears the door. Albert raises a blond eyebrow, slowly pushing the door open. The tan bathroom tiles are slick with water as the tub faucet drips. Turning slowly, Albert finds the body of Jeremy Fuller, hands zip-tied behind his back as he kneels in front of the tub, face submerged. Fury rises in Albert as he stomps over to the dead body. Grabbing Jeremy by the collar, Albert pulls him out of the water, confirming it’s really the man he was looking for. He is going to kill whoever did this. If someone killed Jeremy, they were most likely after his sample. And Albert Wesker did not take kindly to thieves.

He releases Jeremy, who flops back face first into the water as it splashes over the edge of the tub. Stomping out of the bedroom, Albert swipes the legal pad from the bed, hoping that he isn’t too late to recover what belongs to him. If it was, this thief should hope that someone else gets to them first.

—

SLAM! His gloved fist dents the desk, pure fury pulsing through Albert’s veins. Everything, all of it, was gone. Jeremy’s monitors and towers were riddled with bullet holes, rendering whatever information Albert might get useless. The refrigerator, containing some samples, was a hollow husk, a grenade thrown in it first before someone deemed it appropriate to riddle it with bullet holes. It was all gone, including the stolen sample. A low growl escapes him, anger threatening to consume him. No. Albert was smarter than this. There had to be a clue about who had destroyed Jeremy’s lab.

As he heads back towards the stairs to the main level, he catches sight of a small door, slightly ajar. Pushing the door open, Albert finds a monitor hooked up to the security cameras, focusing on the outside of the property. He smirks, knowing that this might be the clue he needs. Flipping through the footage for a few minutes, Albert finds who he thinks might be responsible. The monitor’s grainy footage shows a tall figure approaching the property. They look up towards the camera, dark bangs peeking out from the red hood of their black and red sweatshirt. Most of their face is covered, most likely to protect their identity from anyone who would come after them. Someone like Albert Wesker. The figure is too far from the camera to make out any real identifying features. It’s also several feet up, well above anything that a normal human could reach. The stranger will most likely use their gun to destroy the camera.

Within the blink of an eye, the figure crosses the lawn, now in front of the camera. The stranger leaps up, face coming close to the camera. He briefly notices their faded green eyes, freckles splattered across their face, and a scar on the bridge of their nose, peaking out from underneath the mask. Eyes narrowed, the figure reaches for the camera, and the footage suddenly ends. Interesting. If the footage is correct, this individual shows a heightened capacity for speed and jump beyond any human. Were they infected? Possibly. He couldn’t decide either way until he had absolute proof. However, he did always wonder if there were others like Alex and himself, especially with abilities like his own. Most who underwent the transformation of their viruses were monsters, slaves to their own madness, and whoever held the other end of their leash. A small flicker of hope lodges itself in his chest, feeling slightly more optimistic. But he could not get too optimistic; he needed more proof.

After copying the footage of the mysterious stranger, Albert heads back up to the main floor. He walks towards Jeremy’s messenger bag, wondering if he may find more information there. Kneeling by the bag, Albert rifles through it, finding Jeremy’s work cell phone. He smirks as he flips it open. The cell phone beeps, indicating someone left a voice-mail. Albert presses play, an unfamiliar voice speaking aloud:

“Jeremy, where are you? Dr. Ortiz is going to have your head on a pike! Please tell me you didn’t take up that psychopath, Griffin, up on his offer. I know he’s your old boss, but he isn’t worth it! Especially with those samples of that dead BSAA Agent!” Albert hears shouting in the background, presumably Dr. Ortiz. “Fuck, just get in here Jeremy!”

Dead BSAA Agent? Samples? The mystery thickens, and Albert wonders how this mysterious stranger fits in with the dead BSAA Agent. Revenge for a lost loved one, perhaps? But what need would they have to destroy Jeremy’s work? And what role did Dr. Griffin play in all of this?

—

Illuminated by the glow of the screen, Albert flicks through the Umbrella archives, courtesy of the Red Queen. Umbrella has little on Jeremy or Dr. Griffin. Jeremy appears to be one of Dr. Griffin’s known associates, an interesting coincidence. Umbrella has little information on his work but indicated that it would be a strategic move to recruit Dr. Griffin and his team. In fact, they appeared to be recruiting him when Raccoon City fell, taking Umbrella along with it. How unfortunate for them. His file did note that Dr. Griffin may need to be dealt with, especially if he refused their offer to take another opportunity at one of their competitors. The end of the file notes Dr. Griffin and his teams’ attempt to work on something to rival the Progenitor virus. An interesting note, clearly still unsuccessful.

Steepling his fingers, Albert wonders if Dr. Griffin finished his work on the virus. Was he successful? And how did this stranger relate to it? Were they cleaning up Dr. Griffin’s mess, on his or his employer’s payroll? Or were they working for someone else, a simple pawn on the chessboard? And what role did the dead BSAA agent play in all of this? No matter, Albert would make the stranger an offer they could not refuse. And if they did refuse? He would make sure they were removed from the game permanently. However, he needs to find the individual, and Dr. Griffin was his only lead.

A preliminary search shows that Dr. Griffin is under the watchful eyes of the BSAA. Interesting. What had the good doctor done to bring the BSAA down on him?

Getting into the BSAA files was easy. Agencies, like the BSAA, were always behind when it came to security, and like every other major player, Albert had his own men within the BSAA. Finding Dr. Griffin’s file, a photo of the man appears. Dr. Griffin frowns in his photo, pretending to portray a serious yet misunderstood genius. He snorts; Will was a genius, not this fraud. Dr. Griffin’s file lists his work, noting that he may be a serious threat. Albert smirks; Dr. Griffin is nothing compared to him.

He moves on to Dr. Griffin’s work, much of which is mediocre. Yet, Dr. Griffin’s current research sparks his curiosity as Albert pulls up a video, a recording of one of Dr. Griffin’s test subjects. A man in his late twenties-early thirties paces around the cell, clearly in distress. “What did you do to me?” He wheezes, swaying as he paces back and forth. Something grumbles, and the man groans, hunching over as something ripples along his spine. Albert leans closer, inspecting the subject closer. Is-Is something moving beneath his skin? Fascinating. “WHAT’S HAPPENING TO ME?” He screams, a melodramatic shriek of pain. Another howl escapes him, and the subject mutates, bones cracking and skin ripping as he evolves. The subject writhes as his body transforms, movement eventually ceasing. A few seconds later, the subject moves, imperceptible to the human eye. His movements increase, the subject rising to its feet, two long appendages protruding from its wrists. The mutation marred the subject’s face, his body distorted from the transformation. It had turned him into a tyrant, not dissimilar to the ones Albert had worked on at Umbrella. The Tyrant looks up at the camera. With a quick motion, it whips one of the appendages, causing the video feed to cut out.

Disappointing. Dr. Griffin’s virus clearly needed more work, more than Dr. Griffin could ever hope to achieve. He pulls up the report regarding the BSAA’s capture of Dr. Griffin. The report lists five members as part of the team who arrested Dr. Griffin:

Agent Arthur Edwards-Alive Agent Patrick Hoffman-Alive Agent Natasha Russell-Alive Agent Kevin Zhu-Alive Captain Hunter Delaney-Deceased

Albert raises an eyebrow. Is Captain Delaney the dead BSAA agent that Jeremy’s colleague referred to in his voicemail? He searches Captain Delaney, pulling up their file, only to be greeted with a familiar pair of faded green eyes. In their file photo, Captain Delaney wears a confident smile, proud of their work. Albert snorts. What a fool. The BSAA was exactly like the entities it swore to fight. It was bloated by corruption, infected with spies from numerous organizations. His thoughts return to Captain Delaney, noting the two scars on their freckled face. Across the bridge of their nose runs a deep scar, only to be outdone by a large, gnarled scar on the left side of their lip. The scar on their nose seems similar to the one of the mysterious stranger.

Captain Delaney’s file notes that they had a promising career in the U.S. Air Force until a B.O.W. attack in Belgium in 1999. Thanks to the Captain’s leadership, their team made it out alive with a few civilian survivors, but something changed in Captain Delaney. Reports from their superiors note their warnings about bioterrorism, starting to become a pain in Leadership’s side. Captain Delaney seemed smart enough to recognize the potential threat that bioterrorism would become. Yet, they decided to play for the wrong side, leaving the Air Force to join the BSAA in 2002. If the U.S. Government was willing to let them go during the beginning of the war on terror, Captain Delaney must have kicked up quite a stir. What had occurred during the mission with Dr. Griffin that led to Captain Delaney’s untimely death?

Scrolling down to the mission reports, Albert opens Agent Arthur Edwards’ report, Captain Delaney’s second in command. Agent Edwards writes in his report: “Captain Delaney was infected by Dr. Charles Griffin with the prototype of his virus. Dr. Griffin informed the team that there was no hope for curing Captain Delaney. Captain Delaney’s infection progressed, and they started to mutate. To protect the team and ensure no further infection, I acted, terminating Captain Delaney. Due to my quick actions, no other members of the team were infected.”

Infected? Interesting. The figure in the grainy video showed no similarities to Dr. Griffin’s previous test subject. They appeared in perfect health, seeming mostly human. That was assuming that it even was Captain Delaney infected with the prototype virus. Glancing over at the yellow legal pad, Albert notes the names. All scientists who worked on the virus that killed Captain Delaney. This stranger was after Dr. Griffin’s team and most likely, Dr. Griffin, himself.

He mulls over the idea of this stranger being the dead Captain Delaney. Albert could not discount the physical similarities between the deceased Captain Delaney and the stranger. It would also mean there was another like him and Alex. Would they be as strong as he was? As fast? Albert’s mind races with many possibilities, eager to meet another tyrant like himself. So many of the other tyrants were rudimentary, animalistic creatures acting on pure instinct. None were the next step of humanity’s evolution like him. He smirks, knowing it was imperative to find this individual as soon as possible. The BSAA would have no idea what to do with a subject of this value, and Albert could not risk the chance that a rival corporation would get their hands on this individual. Albert would do whatever is necessary to gain the loyalty of this individual, possibly being too rare to eliminate if they were like him.

Taking out his cell phone, Albert dials a number. The phone rings a few times before the Lady in Red answers. “Wesker?” Ada Wong asks, her voice controlled. Yet he notes the slightest hint of nervousness. Did she think that Albert had finally come for her, to end her once and for all?

“Ada Wong,” He greets pleasantly, in control, “Long time, no talk.”

“It’s been a while,” She replies, slightly on edge.

While Albert would love to play with Ada, something more important was at stake. “I have a mission for you.”

“What do you want, Wesker? I’m already working on another mission.”

“I’m willing to double what your current employer is paying you. This mission is a priority. And,” Albert stresses, ”You owe me.”

Ada swallows nervously over the phone. “You must be desperate if you’re willing to up my fee,” She tries to play off her fear, but Albert knows she will obey, “What is this mission?”

“I need you to find someone. They may be dead.”

She’s quiet for a moment. “You need me to retrieve a dead person? What’s the catch?”

Clever girl, he thinks. Ada was always able to look past the bigger picture. Yet, it was a double-edged sword, especially when it came to that annoyance, Leon Kennedy. “This dead person may have killed someone: a Dr. Jeremy Fuller. I need you to bring them to me. If you bring this dead person in quietly, you will receive a bonus. I’ll also overlook your little indiscretion.”

“Deal.” No hesitation in Ada’s voice.

“Good. I will send you the information. I expect you to bring me results.”

“Don’t worry, I always deliver.” Ada hangs up, leaving him alone in the silence of the dark room.

Anticipation rises in Albert at the thought of Ada bringing Captain Delaney to him. If Albert was right about Captain Delaney being alive, they would be of great value to his research, but an even greater ally. He would make them one, no matter the cost.

Writing Taglist (Opt In/Out): @bbrocklesnar, @tommyarashikage, @voidika, @alexxmason, @sergeiravenov,

@clicheantagonist, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @imogenkol,

@carlosoliveiraa, @theelderhazelnut, @strangefable, @direwombat, @cassietrn,

@derelictheretic, @cloudofbutterflies92, @spookyrares,

#Kate Writes #The Hunter Fic Tag #fic: dead man walking #Hunter Delaney #resident evil fanfic #albert wesker x oc #resident evil fic #biohazard fanfic #death tw #body horror tw #OTP: Love Me Mercilessly #I really did not mean to take so long between chapters lol #also I hope I nailed Wesker's pov #he is kind of difficult to write for me

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trickphotography2 · 1 year ago

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D-Day by TrickPhotography | Chapter 7

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x female!reader

Word count: 6.3k

Synopsis: After finding out his girlfriend is pregnant, Jake is ready to move in and get married. The last thing he expected was to be hit with a six-month deployment at sea and missing the birth of his first child.

18+, minors DNI

Chapter 6 | Master List | Ao3

---------------------------------------

Chapter 7

There was a knock on your office door, and it flew open before you could respond. Silently mouthing the words of the subclause you were editing, you held up one finger to stop whoever had ignored the closed door and finished the paragraph. Closing your eyes, you begged for patience and looked up at Joanne. “What can I do for you?” you asked, attempting to sound pleasant.

“I’ve been calling and messaging you to let you know that your 11:30 is here,” she replied with a grin. Your eyes darted to your desk phone - which you’d silenced so you could focus - that blinked with three missed calls. The computer was locked and asleep, and your messenger status was on Do Not Disturb so that it wouldn’t chime.

“I don’t have any appointments today.” You’d planned explicitly for that as your contract bid needed to be submitted to the finance department by Thursday so they could review the final numbers and pass it on to the lawyers for one last look before submitting it to the government contractors. You were currently going through the bid solicitation and comparing it to your submission with a fine tooth comb - even missing one small component could lead to an automatic rejection that would lose millions in potential revenue for the company. “Are you sure they aren’t here to see someone else?”

“No, they said they were here to see you specifically.” Sighing, you woke up your computer, shoved your badge into the reader, and logged in. No calendar reminders greeted you, but you double-checked. Nothing. “Should I tell them you’ll be right out?”

“Sure, just give me a second,” you grumbled. Joanne didn’t even bother to close the door as she left. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you forced yourself to take a few deep breaths before sipping your cold coffee, marking your place with a sticky note, and shuffling the papers into a neat pile. With a quick check of your appearance in your phone camera and touching up your lipstick, you grabbed your badge and cardigan and headed to the lobby. There was a burst of laughter as you slipped the badge into your lanyard while turning the corner.

There, leaning against the counter that surrounded the admin team’s desks, was Jake. Coyote stood beside him, arms crossed over his chest and a bemused expression on his face. Both men wore their flight suits. You stopped in the doorway and raised an eyebrow as Jake caught sight of you, a slow smile crossing his lips, a toothpick clamped between his teeth. “Hey, darlin’.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Coyote, here, and I were grabbing lunch, and I thought you might want something other than that leftover salad from last night.” Sitting at his elbow was a bag and a soda from a fast food place on base.

“Isn’t that sweet,” Joanne gushed. “You wouldn’t happen to be the one who sent her flowers a couple of months ago, would you?”

“Guilty,” he replied, shooting Joanne a grin and letting his accent slip.

“I knew they weren’t from your parents!” Bree - the travel coordinator - laughed, shooting you a look. You flushed.

“Hey Coyote,” you said, “couldn’t rein this one in today?”

“Nope.” He smirked, eyes shifting over your shoulder when voices neared. Stepping to the side, you glanced back to see Glen, Mark, and one of the new QA guys.

“Hey!” Glen said, clapping a hand on your shoulder as he passed. “Thought you weren’t leaving the cave today. Wanna join us for lunch?”

“Actually, I just got mine delivered.” Jake pushed off the counter, all playfulness gone from his eyes and a hard smile on his lips. Since the conversation last week, he’d been encouraging you to go to HR to talk about your coworkers.

“Didn’t realize we had visitors today,” Mark said, eyeing the two men. The company usually delivered lunch to the office during military visits. Forcing a laugh, you shook your head.

“They’re not visitors. This is Jake and Javy. They - ”

“Jake, huh?” Glen shot you a sly grin, hand leaving your shoulder. He’d caught sight of your phone leaving the team meeting and tried to get you to spill on who you were texting about dinner plans. When the man in question nodded, Glen took a step forward and held out his hand - Jake clocked the wedding band. You’d told him the one coworker who usually had your back was married. “Nice to meet you, man. You fly with the Vigilantes?” he asked, nodding to the patch on his chest. Jake’s eyes met yours over Glen’s shoulder after their handshake, and you shrugged.

“Yeah.”

“Nice! I was a catapult officer on the Lincoln.”

“No shit,” Jake chuckled, glancing over his shoulder at Javy. “When’d you get out?”

“Six years ago.”

“Damn, before I got here.” Glen introduced himself to Javy while Jake shook hands with Mark and the new guy.

“He is gorgeous,” Bree whisper to Joanne. Rolling your lips together to keep from smiling, you cleared your throat.

“Thanks for lunch, babe, but I need to get back to work. Do you mind if I leave this here for a second?” you asked Joanne, motioning to the food. When she nodded, you turned to Jake and Javy. “I’ll walk you out. I’m also curious how you got past the gate guard.”

“That was me,” Joanne smiled. “Once Rob told me who was there, and Jake showed him a picture of you two, I let him through.” Your smile was fixed, trying to remember what - if any - photos Jake had taken of the two of you.

With his hand on your lower back and Javy opening the door, the three of you finally left the office and exited into the parking lot. Jake’s truck was next to your car - it was finally released from the body shop on Monday. “You do realize that you just gave the biggest office gossips their best scoop in months, right?” you groaned. Javy laughed and shook his head.

“Kinda his point, I think.”

“He is about as subtle as an anvil,” you agreed, fighting a smile. Jake cackled as his friend rolled his eyes, having caught the Road Runner joke. “Sorry, couldn’t resist.”

“It’s not like I haven’t heard them all before.” After saying goodbye and you reiterating that you wanted to hang out one night, Javy got into the truck.

Alone, you turned to your boyfriend and crossed your arms over your chest. “Jake.”

“Darlin’.”

“I know what you’re doing.”

“Bringing you lunch?”

“You could have saved yourself the trip by writing ‘Taken - Back Off’ across my forehead with Sharpie.”

“If it makes your life easier, I’ll stop by every day,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath and swallowed around the lump in your throat. “Darlin’, you okay?” Clearing your throat, you nodded and looked up at him while touching his chest.

“Thank you, but please don’t do it again.” His green eyes were soft as he nodded, took the toothpick out of his mouth, then leaned down to brush his lips over yours.

“Can I stay over tonight?”

“No - I will probably be working late tonight and need to call my parents. And catch up with some stuff around the apartment.”

“Are you just saying that because you’re mad at me?” Chuckling, you shook your head.

“I’m not mad, Jake, but I do need to get back to work. I’ll call you tonight.” When he nodded, you pushed onto your toes to kiss him again as voices echoed across the parking lot. “Thanks for lunch,” you whispered against his lips before giving him another peck and dropping back to your feet. When he saw your eyes dip to his lips before lifting in a small smile, he couldn’t resist kissing you again, tongue lightly teasing and tasting the wax of your lipstick. Chuckling, you pushed him away and grinned. “Don’t you have somewhere you need to be, Lieutenant?”

“Fine. I’ll talk to you later,” Jake said.

“Be safe.” Glancing at the truck, you waved at Javy, who nodded back.

“I’m going up at 2:30, so if you hear a flyby, that’s me.” Laughing, you shook your head and took a step back.

“I’ll keep an ear out, Seresin.” He clamped the toothpick between his teeth before flipping it. Your thighs clenched, remember what other skills that tongue had, and he winked.

Coyote grinned when Jake got into the truck. “Red’s not your color, man.”

It wasn’t until Jake caught sight of himself in the rearview mirror while waiting in the line to get back on base that he realized your red lipstick was all over his mouth. Javy roared with laughter as he scrambled to grab a napkin from the console before reaching the gate guard.

You’re just as bad at marking your territory. You glanced at your phone and smirked at Jake’s text as you dug into the sandwich he’d gotten you.

No idea what you’re talking about. After putting your phone back on silent and retouching your lipstick, you clicked through some emails before returning to the contract.

At 3:00, you heard the roar of a jet overhead and smiled.

It was after six when you finally left work. There were a couple of texts from Jake and your friends from home, and you were about to call your parents when you noticed a voicemail.

“Hi, my name is Elle Brooks, and I’m calling from NAS Lemoore. I’m calling to offer you an interview for the contract administrator position you applied for. We’re trying to get those scheduled for early next week. If you are still interested in the position, please call me back at 559…”

You stopped in the middle of the parking lot, hand flying to cover your mouth.

“Hey,” Jake frowned when he opened his front door wearing only his boxer briefs and a t-shirt. “You okay?” Rather than answer, you held up your phone and played the voicemail. His grin was blinding as he looked from the phone to you and pulled you into the house. “You have an interview? When did you even apply?”

“Same day as the accident,” you laughed. “I was pissed off and - ” His lips covered yours as he backed you into the door.

“Thank fucking god you’re getting out of there,” he said, resting his forehead against yours.

“It’s just an interview,” you cautioned. “And it’s kind of a long shot.”

“You’re gonna get it.”

“It’s less money.”

“You wouldn’t have to deal with the bullshit at work. The government doesn’t put up with that.” Biting your lower lip, you took a deep breath.

“I really want this,” you said softly.

“Darlin’, they’d be stupid not to hire you. And, listen, I haven’t had to interview for a job since high school, but I’m happy to practice with you.”

“Any info you have about GS contractors on base would be amazing.”

“How about this - Coyote dated a contractor for a while. We have him over this weekend, you get the intel, and we go from there?”

“I love that plan.” Jake grinned, leaning down to kiss you and trying to ignore how his heart had jumped at those first two words.

There was a loud pop, and you quickly brought the bottle of champagne to your lips when it bubbled over the rim and spilled onto your fist. When you shook the liquid off your hand, Jake captured it and brought it to his mouth, running his tongue between your fingers, along your wrist and forearm. Setting the bottle on the counter, you wrapped your free hand around the collar of his khaki shirt and pulled him closer. He could taste the champagne on your tongue as he kissed you, hands sliding under your blouse and gliding against your warm skin.

Your hands skated down his chest, making quick work of the buttons and shoving his shirt off his shoulders to run your hands down his arms. His pins clattered against the floor as he let go of you long enough for it to fall from his wrists. The white undershirt quickly joined it as you worked on the buttons of your own shirt.

Jake pressed open-mouthed kisses to every inch of skin you revealed, his hands on your ass, rocking you against his thigh. When your shirt fell open, you reached for the champagne again and took a swig as he went to one knee to press kisses to your stomach and unbutton your slacks. You buried a hand in his hair and tugged, feeling his answering groan against your hip. He quickly slid your pants and thong down your legs and grabbed your left ankle to have you step out of them. “Come ‘ere,” he growled, guiding your thigh over his shoulder.

The first pass of his tongue over your core nearly had your knee buckling, and you grabbed the kitchen counter to steady yourself. His laugh was warm against your skin as he looked up at you, holding your gaze as he did it again. Playfully glaring at him, you shrugged off your shirt and enjoyed how his eyes zeroed in on your breasts when you took off your bra.

This was truly decadence, you thought - naked in your kitchen with your boyfriend on his knees, taking you apart with his talented fingers and tongue while you drank champagne. Your head fell back against the cabinet, and you clapped a hand to your mouth to muffle your moan when Jake curled his fingers in a come hither motion while sucking hard on your clit. Hips moving of their own accord, you rode his face as he groaned against your core. “Fuckin’ gorgeous, baby,” he said, shifting his thumb to your clit as he ran his teeth along your thigh. With his other hand, he squeezed his dick, which strained against his fly. The sight had you biting your lip and whimpering.

“Ja - ” you choked on his name when his fingers thrust deeper. Grinding down against his hand, your eyes closed.

“Lemme see those pretty eyes, darlin’.” When you didn’t, he nipped at your inner thigh before licking away the sting. “Look at me.” His green eyes were molten when your gaze met his. “Can’t fuck you the way you want until you come for me,” he rasped. “Love this fuckin’ pussy.” A cocky grin crossed his mouth, and he winked before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking hard.

Your knee buckled at the combined efforts of his tongue and fingers. Holding him against your core, fingers clutching the counter to keep you upright, you came with a loud cry.

Lazily, Jake kissed his way up your body as you took another swig of champagne. When he licked into your mouth, your earthy taste mingled with the sweet alcohol, and he groaned. Plucking the bottle from your loose grip, he took a long drink and winked when he caught your eyes fixated on the bob of his throat. After swiping his wrist against his lips, he grinned. “Your neighbors definitely heard that.”

“Fuck the neighbors,” you panted, red staining your cheeks. He laughed loudly while setting the bottle back onto the counter. Jake’s hand wrapped around your neck as he leaned down to brush his nose against yours. His kiss was soft, left hand lightly tracing the curve of your waist, causing goosebumps on your heated skin.

“Welcome to the Department of Defense, darlin’.”

“It’s only a tentative job offer,” you reminded him. After a month and a half, your reference checks were completed - your former coworkers in Florida had been happy to help - and HR had approved the packet you’d submitted to negotiate for a higher salary. With the higher pay grade and step, you would only be taking a $5K pay decrease from your base salary, which would be closed in the next two years. Losing the annual bonus would hit your finances, but the benefits were better. “I still have to get through the background check and get my security clearance upgraded - who knows how long that will take.”

“You’ve already got a secret clearance,” Jake said, stroking his thumb along your throat. “It shouldn’t take long for them to clear you for top secret.”

“Months, babe. It’s going to take months for me to get through all the onboarding, and a lot can happen between now and then.”

“Nothing’s gonna happen. And in a couple of months, you’ll get to tell those assholes that you’re leaving, and I’ll be able to visit you at work every day.”

“Oh god,” you groaned, dipping your head to his shoulder. His lips grazed your temple.

“What?”

“I just realized that - technically - we’re going to be coworkers.” His chest rumbled with laughter, breath stuttering across your skin.

“I’ll be the best goddamn coworker you’ve ever had. In fact - ” You shrieked as he ducked, planting his shoulder into your hips and tossing you over his shoulder, careful not to have you hit the counter behind him. He held you in place by your knees and turned to lightly bite your upper thigh before spanking you. You yelped and retaliated by smacking his ass. After spanking you again, he grabbed the champagne bottle and walked toward your bedroom. “I’m gonna lick this off your tits while you ride me until you come, and then I’m gonna get a third one out of you in the shower.”

Jake was taking your overstimulation after two orgasms without a break as a personal challenge to overcome.

When he tried to pour the champagne over your tits, the majority ended up on the sheets, making you both laugh. His tongue ran between the valley of your breasts as you leaned back, one hand braced on his knee, to pour a stream down your chest. The tendons in Jake’s neck stood out as you swiveled your hips, spelling out a secret, three-word message. His eyes were glued to where you were joined, biting his lip as he watched himself disappear inside you. It was his turn to come with a choked moan, his thumb seeking out your clit to tip you over the edge.

Jake stayed inside you as you came down from your high, collapsed against his chest, and the empty bottle rested against your calf on the mattress. He lightly stroked your face and back, thrusting shallowly as you tried to catch your breath. Eventually, he rolled you onto your side and held you tightly while pulling out. He turned on the shower while taking care of the condom and came back to carry you into it.

With one foot propped up on the side of the tub and the showerhead angled to hit both of you, Jake cupped your core, testing your sensitivity with light touches. His hand rubbed your lower back, protecting you from the cold tile and feeling your hips chase and shy from his caress. Slowly, he eased his middle and ring fingers into you, thumb grazing your clit. He studied your expressions as you bit your lip and whimpered. When tears slipped out from the corners of your eyes, he kissed them away, finger stilling. “You okay, darlin’?”

“Too much,” you whined while clenching around him.

“You’re close, baby. Relax.” His hand left your back to tip your chin up. Resting his forehead against yours, Jake waited for your nod. A soft smile crossed his lips when you did.

You came with a gasp, nails leaving crescent marks on his back. His grin was blinding when you forced your eyes open, tears clinging to your lashes and sweat beading your brow. Jake pressed his hard cock against the crease of your hip and thigh. “Don’t even think about it,” you breathed.

“Already done so good for me, darlin’,” Jake said, withdrawing his fingers from your core. You whimpered as he dragged his fingers along your slit, gathering your wetness before sucking it off his fingers. You groaned, tipping your head back against the tile. His hips thrust against you before he took your hand and wrapped it around his dick. After a few guiding strokes, he planted his hands on either side of your head. You ran your hand along his length, twisting your wrist on the upstroke and teasing the tip. Jake panted against your mouth, eyes closed tightly as he coated your stomach with his cum.

Jake took his time washing your body and carried you to bed, curling himself around you. Just as you nodded off, he murmured something into your hair and pressed his lips to the back of your neck, tightening his hold on you.

“Alright, sit down because we are talking about this.”

“What?” Jake grumbled, throwing a stack of t-shirts onto his bed.

“This shitty attitude. You have been in such a bad mood for the last week, and I’m tired of it.” Grumbling under his breath about how much he still had to pack, he flopped face down onto his bed and buried his face in his pillow. Sighing, you sat and leaned against the headboard, resting your hand on his arm and lightly stroking. After a few minutes of silence, he groaned and turned to look at you. You raised an eyebrow as his hand dropped onto your knee, squeezing gently.

“‘M sorry, darlin’.”

“For?”

“Being an asshole.”

“You mean being more of one than usual?” you teased, leg jerking as he squeezed a ticklish spot on the back of your knee. “It’s two weeks, babe.”

Not long after you got your job offer, Jake was informed that he was going on a short deployment to Vegas. Since then, he’d been alternating between clingy and quietly irritated. More than once, he’d escaped on a run when you tried to ask him what was wrong. But now - the day before he was leaving? He wasn’t going to get out of it that easily.

“I know.”

“We’re not going to sweat the short deployments - I have to go on work trips, too. I mean, I’d just gotten back from a training in DC when we met.”

“I know,” he huffed.

“So if you’re so smart and know all of this, why are you upset?”

“I don’t wanna go.” Chuckling, you shifted down the bed to lie face-to-face with him. He rolled onto his side, eyes closing as you reached out to run your fingers through his hair. He had to go on base later to get a haircut and pick up some boot polish.

“I’m gonna miss you too.” You pressed featherlight kisses to his forehead and nose, his lips curving into a contented smile. For a moment, you debated your next words but knew they needed to be said. “Jake, honey?” He hummed in response. “I…I’m not her.”

“Who?”

“Your ex.” His eyes flew open, brow furrowing. When his mouth opened, you quickly placed a finger against his lips to stop him from speaking. “You told me that she cheated on you when you were deployed. And you’ve been hot and cold since you found out you’re leaving.”

“Darlin’, I’m - ”

“If I’m ever unhappy in this relationship, I’ll respect you enough to let you know before anything happens. I just ask for the same in return.” His hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling your hand away.

“I don’t cheat,” Jake said, his eyes hard. “Never have, never will. Are you telling me you’re - ”

“No,” you cut him off. “No, I’m really, really happy. I just… I’m giving you one deployment to feel insecure about us, but that’s it. I’m not going to put up with this…” You struggled to find the right word before sighing, “attitude.”

“I - ” The words were on the tip of his tongue as he rolled you onto your back, gently stroking the hair from your face. But it wasn't the right time with the specter of his divorce hanging over the conversation. “This is the happiest I’ve been.”

“In a long time?”

“Ever.”

“Even better than the first time you flew?” you teased. He caught the sheen of tears in your eyes and nodded. “Well, now I know you’re lying.” His fingers dug into your sides, and you shrieked and tried to wiggle out of his hold as his hips pinned yours to the bed.

Jake slowly took you apart, pressing every unspoken feeling into your skin. He kept up his mental chant as you writhed against him, mouths so close that you shared every panted breath. IloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyou.

The next morning, you lingered in bed as long as possible, trading lazy kisses before you moved down his body to take his cock in your mouth. There wasn’t time for him to reciprocate, though he tried to in the shower, taking care to wash every inch of your skin as you reminded him of the time. He leaned against the bathroom door, dressed in his flight suit, and watched as you quickly did your makeup, a sad smile crossing his lips.

Coyote waited in his car to drive Jake to the base as you said your goodbyes on the front porch. “Be safe,” you said, twining your fingers in the ball chain that held his dog tags.

“I will. I’ll let you know as soon as I land.” Using the chain as leverage, you tugged him down to kiss him goodbye, hand resting on his chest.

“Have fun. I’ll see you in two weeks.” He couldn’t say it when then, not with his best friend hitting the horn and tapping his watch. Jake lifted his hand to flip him off as you laughed and gently shoved him away. “Go.”

The men watched you wave from the front porch as they pulled onto the street before returning to the house to finish getting ready. Jake had given you a key to watch the place while he was away.

“Well, wasn’t that cute,” Javy chuckled.

“Fuck off,” Jake grumbled.

Call you back. Dealing with a minor emergency.

Jake frowned at his phone and texted back Everything ok? You liked his message. His mind raced, a helpless feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. Was it another car accident? Something at work? Had your job found out you were planning to leave and fired you?

He’d been in Vegas for a week, and had another to go. If you needed him, there was no way he could get to you. His thumb hovered over his text thread with Coyote, debating asking if he could check on you. Sighing, he dropped the phone into his pocket as he entered the barracks and went to his room. When his phone rang twenty minutes later, he scrambled to pick it up. “What’s wrong? What happened?” he demanded before saying hello.

“My air conditioner is out, and they can’t send anyone out to look at it for two days,” you groaned. “It’s almost 90 degrees in my apartment.”

“So go to my place.”

“It’s fine. I’ll just - ”

“Darlin’.”

“It’s weird being there without you.”

“Yeah, but I have air conditioning. And I’m pretty sure your gross ice cream is still in the freezer.”

“How dare you besmirch mint chocolate chip?”

“It’s like eating toothpaste.”

“You’re ridiculous. And wrong.” It took a little teasing and joking to get you to agree to go to his house, and he stayed on the phone with you as you packed a bag.

Later, after you showered and settled in and he’d grabbed dinner, he video-called you. You answered on your laptop, and he couldn’t help but grin at seeing you wearing one of his shirts. You asked about the exercise he was participating in. Jake launched into a play-by-play of his day, using his hand to demonstrate some of the maneuvers he’d made.

Cradling a coffee mug, you nodded while stirring the contents. When it reached your desired consistency, you brought the spoon to your mouth and licked the green ice cream. Jake stopped talking, and you looked at the screen to see him frowning. “Are you eating in my bed?”

“Yup,” you said, popping the ‘p.’ He had a thing about eating and drinking in bed - champagne on your sheets? No problem. His bedroom? Only a glass of water was allowed.

“Why?”

“Cause you’re weird about it, and there’s no way for you to stop me,” you grinned. He groaned and rubbed a hand over his face, making you laugh.

“I’m gonna get you for that when I get home.”

“You’re gonna have to get over it - I want to drink coffee and have breakfast in bed with you.”

“You want to eat where we fuck?”

“We’ve fucked in both of our kitchens, so that argument is out.” You heard his muttered ‘Jesus Christ’ and smirked. “Fine, fine. We’ll do some positive associations to help you overcome this issue.”

“Oh yeah?” Jake grimaced as you set the coffee mug on the blanket, which turned into a bemused smirk when you took his shirt off so you were only in your panties.

Picking up the mug, you smiled. “Alright, Lieutenant, I want you to pay close attention. Look at me, sitting in your bed and enjoying this delicious ice cream. Notice the smile on my face? Happy girlfriend, happy life.”

“Pretty sure that’s not how the saying goes,” he chuckled, reaching down to adjust himself.

“Oooh, careful, or I’ll tell Javy that you’re talking about marriage at three months again,” you laughed. He groaned, regretting the friendship the two of you were building. “Anyways, ice cream in bed for me. Happy girlfriend and boobs for you. It’s a win-win.”

“I’m still gonna spank you for breaking my rule.”

“Promise?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. A strange intimacy had grown between you during his deployment, and you’d found yourself talking about things that might have been too embarrassing while next to each other. For example, you’d picked up on some of Jake’s sexual preferences just like he’d picked up on your liking to be held down. During one late-night talk, he told you that he really liked it when you teased him so he could punish you. With some clarification, you’d told him you were more than happy to push his buttons.

“Fuck.” He watched as you collected the cold condensation from the mug and stroked your nipple.

“Too bad you’re not here. Just gonna have to take care of myself before going to sleep.” Jake bit his lip as the image of you touching yourself in his bed flashed in his mind.

“Gonna show me what that looks like?” he rasped, hips shifting on the bed as he slid his hand into his boxers and squeezed his dick. You set the coffee mug on the nightstand before shaking your head and covering your mouth as you yawned.

“Nope. Just gonna have to imagine it.”

“Darlin’, it’s not nice to tease.”

“Oh, I’m aware, Hangman. Just consider this payback for all the times you left me hanging.”

“Pretty sure I’ve more than made up for that.” He watched as you shrugged while getting under the covers, then reached for the laptop and set it beside the pillow so he could see your face. Up close, he could see that you did look tired and sighed, letting go of his dick and smiling. “Go to sleep, darlin’. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Six more days until you’re home.” Your eyes were drifting closed, and he wished he was there to tuck you against his chest.

“Can’t wait. Sweet dreams, baby. I love you.” Your eyes shot open, meeting his wide-eyed gaze on the screen. “Shit, darlin’, I didn’t - ”

“You’re an asshole, Seresin,” you breathed. Hurt flashed across his face, and you laughed. “Of course, you would say that for the first time when you’re deployed.”

“You’re… you’re not mad?”

“That you said you love me? No, of course not. The timing could have been better.”

“Just kind of slipped out.”

“I figured. I.. haven’t had the easiest time winning this game of chicken, either.”

“Are you saying that you…”

“Mmhmm,” you nodded, biting your lower lip and grinning. Jake’s green eyes were soft as he smiled, fingers reaching to trace your face on the screen.

“Darlin’,” he breathed. “Wish I was with you.”

“Me too. Which is why I’m going to be the nicer of the two of us and not say it until you’re here.”

“You’re not?”

“No. Because I want to be able to kiss you when I say it.”

“So you’re gonna make me wait six more days?”

“Yup.”

“I love you.”

“I know.” Jake groaned.

“Did you just Han Solo me?” You laughed.

“I did. Now go to sleep and dream of me.”

“I will. I love you.”

“Goodnight, babe. I miss you.”

It was that way for the next week. Jake would say he loved you, and you would reply with ‘Thank you,’ ‘I know,’ or something along those lines. His heart was in his throat when, on his last night in Vegas, you sleepily replied, ‘I love hearing that.’

As soon as his jet touched down on Lemoore, he hurried to complete his post-flight checks and grab his duffle from the travel pod. Coyote would drive him home after he checked in, giving him enough time to shower before heading to your place. If the timing worked out, he’d get there just as you got home from work.

But as he walked off the flight line, Jake saw familiar silhouettes outside the Vigilantes hanger. He watched as Javy hugged you and nodded in his direction before walking towards the Sidewinders offices. Grinning, he jogged over, dropping his flight bag and duffle as he reached you. With his g-suit on, he couldn’t hold you as tightly as he wanted, but you were in his arms.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I took the afternoon off, and Javy got me a visitor’s pass so I could pick you up.” His gloves were rough against your cheek as he cupped your face, tilting your head back to kiss you.

“Got somethin’ to say to me?” he asked against your lips.

“Mmm, welcome home,” you said.

“Anything else?”

“Oh!” Smiling deviously, you stood on your toes to whisper in his ear. “I’m not wearing underwear.” Jake groaned, wanting nothing more than to spank you at that moment but contented himself with slipping his hand into the back pocket of your jean shorts and shaking his head.

“At your future place of work? Naughty girl.” A flush stained your cheeks as you glanced around. Lost in the moment, you’d forgotten that you’d be working on this very flight line in a few short months, and it probably wasn’t the most professional thing to be seen groping a pilot there. Jake’s fingers pinched your chin to pull your attention back to him. “Eyes on me, darlin’. What’ve you gotta say to me?” You could see your reflection in his sunglasses. You pushed yours to the top of your head before taking his off. His green eyes were soft and expectant as you licked your lips.

“I love you, Jake.”

“I know.” A laugh burst out of you before you could stop, and he grinned. “Say it again.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” His lips crashed into yours, tongue sweeping into your mouth. With one hand on your ass and the other spanning your back, he bent you backward as you clutched his shoulder and buried a hand in his sweaty hair. There was a wolf whistle as a maintenance crew passed, and Jake reluctantly settled you back onto your feet. “I’ve got a couple of things I need to do before we can leave. You okay to wait?”

“Definitely,” you replied. He pecked your lips before grabbing his duffle while you took his flight bag. His arm dropped around your shoulder, and he tugged you close to kiss your temple as you felt the rumble of a jet taking off in your chest.

During a quickie in the shower, true to his word, Jake spanked you for eating ice cream in his bed. After you dried off, he grabbed his dress blues tie from the closet. “You sure you’re okay with this?” he asked, checking again as you lay diagonal on the bed. When you nodded and held out your wrists, he groaned and leaned down to kiss you, cock twitching against his thigh. “Fuckin’ love you, darlin’.” He quickly tied your wrists together, checking your circulation, before guiding your arms over your head and securing them to his headboard post.

Jake kissed away your tears as he kissed back up your body, letting you taste yourself on his tongue after he’d edged you for an hour. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you lifted your hips to grind against him as he wiped the sweaty hair from your face. “Doin’ okay, sweetheart?”

“Hate you,” you moaned, tugging against your bindings as he ground his cock against your slit.

“Told you it wasn’t nice to tease. Now you know how it feels.”

“Says the biggest tease I know,” you huffed. Chuckling, he reached between you to pinch your clit, making you arch off the bed.

“Last chance to change your mind, darlin’.” You shook your head, taking your lower lip between your teeth as Jake shifted his hips so his tip teased you.

Slowly, he pushed inside, making you feel every inch. He savored the heat of you against his bare cock. When your hips were flush, he buried his face in your neck, thrusting shallowly. Unable to touch him, you panted against his temple and clenched, chuckling when he groaned. “Love you,” he slurred when his lips sought yours. “Love you so god damn much, darlin’. M’ perfect girl.”

“Welcome home, Jake,” you smiled when his eyes met yours. “I love you.”

----------------------------------------------

Author's Note: 🫣 anyone else see Jake as a pleasure dom? I mean, that man wants to be the best at everything, so why wouldn't he want to be that for his partner? Once again, this was supposed to be a sweet chapter but Jake and Darlin' had a different idea. This chapter covered a lot - new job, first deployment, dealing with insecurities, and kink! Hopefully you enjoyed this and it isn't too off the rails of what you initially thought this was going to be 😅

GS stands for general schedule - basically a civil service job. Everyone has a pay grade and step that dictates what your salary is, with a guaranteed raise on a set schedule if you meet minimum eval requirements. Onboarding for a GS job takes fooooorrrreeeevvvvveeeerrrr - trust me. For Darlin' job, she would have to have a top secret clearance, which can take months to get even if you've got a secret one already.

Thank you for reading - I appreciate every interaction I get with this little daydream that's spiraled.

Read Chapter 8

Tag list: @memeorydotcom; @alldaysdreamers; @kmc1989; @djs8891; @caitsymichelle13; @dempy; @midnightmagpiemama; @lovelyladymayyyy; @caidi-paris; @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby; @bellaireland1981; @lethargicluv; @mayhemmanaged; @tenderclio; @lucypaulette; @abaker74; @trhett21; @misshoneypaper; @schreksdoubledeckerhomechecker; @eternallyvenus; @mavrellover91; @chloeforde

#hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #top gun fic #top gun maverick #jake seresin #Hangman top gun #soft!Jake Seresin #hangman smut #hangman fic #D-Day fic #jake hangman seresin

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ladykailitha · 1 year ago

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All My Roads Lead Back to You Part 14

Hello, hello! Thank you to everyone who participated in WIP Wednesday yesterday! It was a blast. I got so much work done.

This mainly Steve centric. Did I write almost an entire chapter with Steve going to bat for Edie to beat out some childhood trauma of my dad never doing that despite doing it for my older siblings? Yes. Does it further plot? Not really. But it was cathartic anyway.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

***

Steve didn’t like talking to principals or teachers as a whole. They got harder to charm as time passed. He could charm hardened business men out of their hard earned cash, but for some reason teachers failed to be charmed him.

So instead of charming them, he decided that he would do it the Nancy Wheeler method and bowl them over with facts.

Principal Kim and Mr Pearson were waiting for him when he arrived. They both rose up to greet him and he shook both of their hands.

“Thanks for agreeing to meet with me,” he said seriously. “I understand that tracing a picture for the art show and for her assignment is a very severe offense. And I of course want to address those allegations as to not tarnish her reputation and make it harder for her to get into colleges and universities.”

Mr Pearson sneered. “You’d just buy her way into any school she wanted anyway.”

Steve locked eyes with Principal Kim and even she looked shocked.

“Excuse, Mr Pearson,” she began, “do I mean to understand that you feel that Edith Harrington bought her way into your art class?”

Mr Pearson’s jaw dropped, realizing he had said the quiet part out loud. “I didn’t mean to apply that she was without talent or merit. But the picture in question is too good for someone her level.”

Steve twisted his bottom jaw as he ran his tongue over his teeth slowly. “How do you feel about the pinprick method?”

Principal Kim frowned. “The what?”

Mr Pearson squirmed in his seat. “It’s method used by many artists when copying works to ensure the height and width of the subject are in the correct proportions.”

Principal Kim turned to Steve. “And you assert your daughter used this method on her most recent assignment?”

Steve nodded. “Yes, and I can prove it.” He turned to Mr Pearson. “You brought the picture with you like I asked, yes?”

Mr Pearson snarled and grabbed his messenger bag. He ripped it open and got out Edie’s picture she had done of Irises by Van Gogh. It was a beautiful piece that showed bright blue irises on the side of a road.

“Can you honestly tell me that she did that without tracing it first?” he asked gruffly. He threw on the principal’s desk.

“It’s very pretty,” she said.

“Did you see her trace it?” Steve asked, turning to the teacher.

“Excuse me?” Mr Pearson asked, straightening up in his chair. “Of course not! She wouldn’t dare trace it in class.”

“What did she do in class?” Steve asked, crossing legs and wiggling his shoulders as he got comfortable. “She had to do something, right?”

Mr Pearson scowled. “I have a class of twenty four students, I can’t be watching each one every second of every day,” he scoffed waving his hands.

Principal Kim nodded sympathetically. “That’s just the way it is, I’m afraid, Mr Harrington.”

Steve smiled. “Oh I don’t doubt it, herding teenagers is difficult in small groups, I can’t imagine tripling the amount of teenagers I used to chaperon around when I got out of high school. I completely understand.”

Mr Pearson eyed him warily. “And where are you going with this?”

“She had to check off certain stages of her work with you, did she not?” Steve said, bouncing his leg on his knee.

Mr Pearson frowned. “Of course she did.”

“And at any stage did her work so signs of it being traced?” Steve asked, a charming smile on his face.

“No.”

Principal Kim sighed. “Be that as that may, Mr Harrington, we’re going to need proof.”

“Why is burden of proof on Edie’s side?” Steve asked, giving her his big puppy-eyed, ‘I don’t understand’ face. “Shouldn’t it be on her accuser’s?”

Silence fell and Steve knew he had won. They couldn’t prove she traced. There was no evidence of something that didn’t happen.

Now it was time for the final blow. God he loved this part. He got out a large color art book of Vincent Van Gogh’s works. He flipped it over to the page that had the image of the painting Edie had used. He then pulled out a pocket knife and set on top of the page.

“One last thing,” Steve said. “Is the pinprick method allowed in the art show?”

Mr Pearson nodded.

He grinned and turned back to the principal. “This is the book Edie used to base her work on. If you’ll use the knife to cut out the page and hold it up to the light you will pinpricks and not trace marks.”

“That could be any book bought at any time!” Mr Pearson protested.

Steve nodded and got a couple more things out of his bag and handed them to the Principal Kim. “I have the original pictures on my phone, but they are too small to see the details.” He pulled out his phone and handed it to her.

She looked at the pictures showing the book that had a scuff on the cover and that the book in front of her had a large scuff right where Edie had dropped getting out the car the day he bought it for her.

There was no doubt it was the same book. She handed the pictures to Mr Pearson who was forced to concede that it must be the same book. She picked up the knife and then looked at Steve.

“And your daughter is okay with us defacing the book like this?” she asked, eyeing Steve skeptically.

Steve nodded. “She said to use whatever means necessary to clear her name. So go for it.”

Principal Kim sighed and deftly cut out the page. She handed the knife back to Steve and then lifted the page. Sure enough there were seven or eight pinpricks but not a single trace outline. If she had traced it there would be heavy indentations around each flower and there weren’t.

“Now,” Steve said leaning forward, “put Edie’s picture over the top to see if the prick holes match.”

Principal Kim did just that and sighed when they lined up perfectly. There was no doubt that Edie hadn’t cheated.

“Edith’s picture will be submitted to the art show and the mark expunged from her record. Mr Pearson will apologize to your daughter in front of the class.”

“What?” Mr Pearson cried, leaping to his feet. “I will do no such thing!”

“You will and I will be watching when you do,” Principal Kim said sternly, “or I will suspend you without pay until a full investigation is done to see if you have done this to other students.”

Mr Pearson’s jaw dropped and he sat back down quietly, hands on his lap.

Steve stood. “You may keep everything but my phone, if you need to convince the judges of the art show of the validity of her work.”

She nodded. They shook hands and then Steve gathered his things and walked out. Before he could even close the door, he could hear the principal tearing into Mr Pearson.

Steve was grinning and not paying attention to where he was going when he nearly bumped into someone.

“Oh, sorry!” he said, holding up his hands in surrender.

“Steve?” Eddie asked. “What are you doing here?”

Steve looked up into those warm brown eyes and smiled. “Just convincing Principal Kim and Mr Pearson to let Edie’s pastel drawing back into the art show.”

Harri peered around his dad. “What? Really? Did you win?”

Steve grinned. “Sure did. If they had done an investigation instead of blinding following the word of one vindictive little girl, Mr Pearson wouldn’t be under scrutiny for doing similar things to other students.”

He crossed his arms and shifted his weight to his back foot. “I’m pretty sure if they looked deep enough, they’d find that he had been grading harsher for so called nepo babies. Children of rich parents that had generational wealth over those students that had nouveau-riche parents. Because he thought they had worked hard for their money.”

Eddie laughed. “And how would you know that?”

Steve grinned. “Because that’s what Nancy dug up for me when I asked.”

Eddie threw back his head and really laughed. “That would do it, yeah.”

Harri cocked his head to the side and frowned. “Who’s Nancy?”

Steve turned him with a soft smile. “She’s a world renowned journalist who your dad and me went to school with.”

“Sounds vaguely familiar,” he said with a shrug. “But that’s cool she helped you get Miss Thing’s art back in the show.”

“I called in a favor,” Steve said with a shrug.

“She owes you more than one favor,” Eddie grumbled.

Steve bit his lip and blushed. “She knows.”

Eddie grinned. “Good.”

“You guys want to come over and celebrate with us?” Steve asked. “The Lawrences are going to be there, as well as the Grants.” At their look of confusion he clarified. “Kenny’s family, the band’s keyboardist.”

Harri and Eddie looked at each other and then Harri nodded, while Eddie shrugged.

“Sure,” Eddie said. “I don’t see why not.”

Edie had gotten use to seeing Mr Munson at her house so often that sometimes it surprised her that Harri and him didn’t live there. That they actually lived elsewhere.

“Are you sure they aren’t dating?” Kenny asked one day at lunch. They were huddled together at their table away from the seething wrath of Lauren Duncan and her crowd of mean girls.

When it came out that Lauren was the tattletale the whole art class turned on her. And straight up ignored her when she would even so much as ask for the eraser to be handed to her.

But that ostracizing only made her vicious out of class. Bumping into Edie to get Edie to drop her stuff or even fall. Putting hate mail in her lockers. Whispering to her friends behind her hands.

Though she tried knocking Edie’s lunch tray out her hands only the once. Edie was quick enough to shove the tray right in Lauren’s face. And what made it even better is that she couldn’t claim that Edie had done in purpose because then she would have to explain why she was that close to Edie in the first place. And after her week suspension for falsely accusing Edie of wrongdoing, she couldn’t afford more trouble. So she stuck to the little things.

Harri sighed. “I honestly don’t know, man.”

Edie nodded. “They go out to lunch every Monday. And it’s gotten to the point where Vanessa, my dad’s secretary won’t even schedule anything for that time.”

Harri nodded. “I think we eat dinner more often at your house then we do my own. And I like my house!”

Mandy nodded. “I mean our dads still hang out, but now Mr Munson tags along too. My dad said that he’s seen more of Mr Munson in the last month then he has the last decade.”

They all nodded.

“Let’s not forget Mr Munson staying for practice instead of dropping Harri off and coming back later,” Brian said, poking at his food, pushing it around on his plate. “We always have to break them up when we’re done so Harri can go home.”

“When summer starts,” Mandy said, “We should test it, see how it takes for them to notice we’re done.”

They nodded again.

“But when I ask my dad,” Edie said, “all he’ll say is that he’s sworn off dating so it can’t be a date.”

Harri threw his arms in the air. “My dad is no better. He keeps telling me that Papa was it for him, and second chances only happen once in a life time and he’s already had his.”

“They are so stubborn, I swear,” Edie huffed. “But we all promised that we wouldn’t interfere in their relationship.”

Kenny straightened up. “You guys promised that. I didn’t.” He grinned. “And I think I know just how to do it.” He put on his backpack and grabbed his tray. “I’ll talk to you guys, later.”

***

Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Epilogue

Also, I had something similar happen to me with a different Van Gogh painting Giant Peacock Moth, only I was in middle school and it was just kids being grumpy the French teacher didn’t care. It was just away to teach us about the French artists movement of the 1800s. I still have it somewhere.

Also: Harri isn’t in trouble, he’s going to see the principal and his guidance counselor because some of his credits from his Cali school didn’t transfer.

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk @trashpocket @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @mightbeasleep @thedragonsaunt @chaoticlovingdreamer @trashpocket @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @steddie-as-they-go @lillemilly @callas-shitshow @bisexualdisastersworld @renaissan-vvitch @immortal-iratze @bookbinderbitch @cardigangoth @lilacrobin @nightmareglitter @nerdsconquerall

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #reconnecting years later AU #ladykailtiha writes

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inkandguns · 8 months ago

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Lena Miculeck seems to have sponsored a bag that I’ve been looking for. The fanny pack market has been fucking terrible for concealed carry, and I’ve tried quite a few. Vertx makes a small messenger bag called the Tourist that I really like. Only problem I’ve found with the Velcro mounting is that there’s no good optics ready platform yet.

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enmstorytime · 1 year ago

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The Vulnerable Writer Chapter 5

When I walked through the classroom door, every student was already seated with their eyes fixed on me, their faces hungry. They watched me expectantly as I crossed the room to my desk and set down my messenger bag, removed my lesson plan, and started to log into the classroom desktop. This daily routine helped me stay calm, and helped my cock stay flaccid under my slacks and black mesh briefs. It would be a miracle if I managed to remain calm once the action started when my students would circle me and tear away every last stitch of clothing from my lean body.

The final five minutes of class time ticked by too fast. I tried making small talk with the students near my desk, including Cody and Seth who both already knew what waited beneath my clothing. However, no matter how much I tried to engage them, each student sat silently, their eyes flicking from my body to the clock on the wall by the classroom door.

At thirty seconds before class time, I crossed the front of the classroom again, and closed the door. I realized as the door closed that when it reopened, I would be butt-naked, my clothing taken by the twenty-five men in the classroom, and I’d have to make my way back to my office with nothing more than my messenger bag. My bare feet would slap across the tile floor down the hallway and up a flight of stairs. Any of my colleagues—or worse, the dean of the department—could potentially see me trying to hide my naked body behind my messenger bag. And based, on my luck the day that Cody left my office with all my clothes, I wasn’t expecting to make it to my office without being seen.

The blood started running toward my cock at the thought of getting caught, and I pulled my thoughts back to this moment where I stood, still fully dressed in front of the twenty-five men who had written powerful, vulnerable essays. I wanted to reward them, had promised I would reward them, but I hadn’t actually expected them to pull it together. Sure, it had been fun and anxiety inducing to walk around the classroom with a jockstrap on and my ass hanging out. Sure, it had been fun to give my clothes to Cody, and to let Seth suck me off in the bushes, but this was a new level. I’d never been so on display before, and it wouldn’t be for just today.

From now on, until the end of the semester, I had promised to teach in the buff. I hadn’t made any stipulations for visitors. I hadn’t made any plans for potential observations from my colleagues. It was still only the fourth week of the semester, which meant that for eleven more weeks, three times each week, for hour long class periods, I would strip completely naked in front of a class that was—to my knowledge—the best attended freshman composition course taught at our university.

Oh fuck, I thought, imagining the faculty meetings where my colleagues would bitch about how their students weren’t attending their classes. Professor Wilson, the dean would say, turning to me in the imaginary meeting playing out in my head. You’ve had perfect attendance for most of the semester. How do you do it? What’s your secret? I’d have to lie, but there would be other professors who would want to know, who would beg to come observe my class to see what made my teaching so dynamic that twenty-five eighteen-to-twenty-year-olds attended every single class period. And I’d have to let them come. Our department had a policy that we were allowed and encouraged to observe anyone else’s class at any time.

“Professor,” Cody said from across the classroom, pulling me away from my anxious thoughts. “I believe it’s time to start the class.”

The rest of the students chuckled, their eyes now fixed once more on me, each of them clearly imagining what they would be uncovering any second now. I noted a few amused smirks, mixed in with the general hunger. Because of my run-ins with Cody and Seth, I had expected sexual hunger from my students, I hadn’t yet realized that some of my students had played along for the laugh of stripping a professor naked. Of course, not all of my students were gay, but I hadn’t processed that the body I worked so hard to maintain would shortly become a source of mirth for a few of my students. While I was proud of what I had going on, I dreaded the laughs I knew I would get when I stood exposed before every eye in this classroom.

“Right,” I said, nervously clearing my throat and crossing once again to my desk. “Right, it’s time to start class.”

“How were the essays?” One of the football players in the background shouted to appreciative laughter. “I know I got really vulnerable in mine.”

I swallowed at the lump forming in my throat, my hands started to quiver, my knees knocked.

“I was too,” said one of the football player’s buddies.

Every student in the room started clamoring, shouting that they too had been vulnerable. I held my hands up, and they fell silent.

“I’m very proud of you all,” I said, my voice wavering, a flush spreading from my cheeks over my entire body. “I’m also very surprised.”

They laughed, which made me feel a little less nervous, a little more comfortable. I knew I was in my element as a professor if I could get my students to laugh. It would be alright. They’d get over the novelty of my naked body, and then life would continue as normal. Right?

“I believe you made us some promises,” Cody shouted, and the class started cheering again.

If it hadn’t been Cody, if I hadn’t had Cody’s naked body pressed against mine only a few weeks before, if I couldn’t remember the way he smiled as he took my load in his mouth, I think my cock would have held out for a little longer. But at his voice, at the obvious hunger, and mirth, and desire that met me in every face, the blood rushed to my penis faster than it had ever before in my life, straining against the fabric of my briefs and tenting my slacks.

“Look,” Seth said, “He’s even excited!”

The classroom exploded in whoops and catcalls, while I stood there, knowing that it would take every stitch of fabric on my body to get the class under control again, if that was even possible. I breathed in deep, steeling my nerves, trying to will away the boner, and knowing that I’d probably be hard for the rest of the class period. Then my eyes landed on Cody, and I nodded.

“Let’s fucking go!” Cody shouted.

And they were on me.

Hands. Fifty hands. Every single student somehow managed to get both of their hands on the clothing I’d worn today. I felt fingers squeezing at my body, feeling the tautness of my muscles beneath. I felt the first button on my shirt be torn away. Then the next. Then the next. Until my shirt was open, revealing the sleeveless undershirt beneath. Then the over shirt was shredded by the hungry hands, the scraps thrown to the floor, or slipped into pockets as keepsakes.

“He thought he could slow us down,” someone shouted to more appreciative catcalls, while someone’s hand ran through my hair, and someone’s lips landed on my left bicep, their tongue slipping out.

I thought about trying to stop the kissing and the licking, but I knew it would be no use. Instead, I focused on how they had lifted me off the ground and tugged my shoes and socks off, while they lifted me over their heads, holding my arms and legs apart, while my bare feet were manhandled.

It would be over soon, I kept reminding myself, as the undershirt was tugged up and over my head, past my wrists, and off my body entirely. It received the same treatment as my overshirt, shredded, some pieces saved as souvenirs, some left on the ground for the janitors to sweep up: evidence that someone had lost their clothes in this classroom. My naked torso was fondled. My nipples squeezed, flicked, and licked. Hands slid up and down my pecs and abs.

It all felt so good. I knew I shouldn’t have liked it so much, but I could feel the most powerful orgasm of my life building in my balls, my toes already curling with pleasure, as the hands moved to my waist, to my groin, to my ass.

The button of my slacks was torn away, the fly torn down, and in seconds I was held aloft in nothing but my mesh briefs, my penis hard and red, contained by the mesh briefs, but completely invisible. The classroom went wild as they ran their hands over the mesh, and I felt the skin contact and the mesh. I couldn’t stop the moan of pleasure as they felt along my almost completely naked body.

“He likes it!” Someone shouted to more catcalls and cackles.

Just as I was about to lose myself in pleasure, they set me back on the ground. The sensation of my bare feet meeting the cold linoleum of the classroom pulled me back from climax, even while my boner raged on, the mesh stretched to its limits.

The next part had to have been planned. My students encircled me, each wrapped a few fingers in the band of my mesh briefs, every eye fixed on my already visible cock and ass. I stood in the center, with my arms behind my head, surrendering to the pleasure of the moment.

“One…” Cody called.

It was coming. Sure, there was nothing else for them to really see, but I still had something to lose, and they were going to take it away.

“Two…” Cody called.

And God, did I want them to take it away. Deep in my core, I knew that this was how I always wanted to teach. No secrets. Nothing hidden. Entirely open and vulnerable.

“Three.” Cody called.

The briefs shredded as every man tugged the waistband away from my body. My hard cock flopped out painfully as the last piece of clothing was pulled away from me and into at least twenty-five little pieces. I closed my eyes as I heard the gasps, the laughter, the oh my gods, and the he’s actually naked. He’s really, completely naked!

Their hands rushed forward again to explore every inch of me. I didn’t bother to open my eyes. I just let their hands, their lips and their tongues explore. It was absolute ecstasy. I didn’t bother to hold back anymore, either. A finger grazed the tip of my cock, and I groaned, pushing my hips forward, and was met with the palm of a hand, wrapping around my shaft.

I exploded, losing all sense of anything but the pleasure in my groin, the pleasure of my skin, exposed to the light, exposed to their eyes, exposed to their hands. I came, and came, and came, sending rope after rope into the laughing, delighted, even potentially disgusted group of students around me.

They held me up, as my muscles relaxed, and I almost toppled to the ground spent. Their hands held under my bare shoulder blades, on my thighs, on my ass cheeks. We stayed like that for at least five minutes, my students holding up their completely naked professor, me spent, and elated.

And then the terror sank in. I still had fifty minutes of teaching to complete, with my cock swinging in front of them, my cum drying around the room.

#enm #gayerotica stripstory enm #gay #hot professor

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lostsunlight · 9 months ago

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CHAPTER 11 - TOUCH THE DEPTHS

childe x reader, wc: 4k, masterlist, Ao3

cw: nsfw, violence, murder

Two men stood overlooking the calm harbour, the sun rose ever so slowly over the horizon. The Sea of Clouds reflecting the orange light, gold shining off the edges of the waves. Only dawn could make such a threatening abyss such as the sea look so tempting. Only gods knew what lay beneath the glimmering surface.

“How did you know?” Childe asked, leaning on the railing

“About what?” Zhongli replied

“Don’t play coy, you told her about my plans. How did you know about her, about anything to do with what the Fatui are doing in Liyue?”

“Age comes with wisdom Childe, all you need to do is look closely enough and you’ll find the invisible cracks that hide in the stone”

Childe hung his head and sighed “You are always so vague”

“The swing of a sword cannot cut the mist from the sky” Zhongli said, eyes somewhere else. With that he promptly turned his heel and left. Leaving Childe to ponder his words woven with things Childe was sure he was yet to understand. Once again he had gotten no answers out of him, only leaving him with infinitely more questions.

Childe sucked in a breath of the cold morning air and stood up straight. Today was the day, he could feel it, everything had finally fallen into place. It was now or never, the chance to seize his glory in the name of the Tsaritsa was finally upon him. How good it would feel to have a source of divine power in his own hands, one more pillar falling at The Tsaritsa’s feet. How good it would feel to prove himself worthy.

There was nothing left to it, with the letters from his family in Y/N’s hands and the comfort that his soldiers wouldn’t have to see him so weakened after the potential battle, he began his true task.

✧

Something was happening, the air had shifted, it seemed heavier somehow. Childe had disappeared earlier leaving you with nothing but a word of warning and a small bag of letters addressed to him.

You paced back and forth trying to come up with a plan. He had said he would find you after he had finished his mission, that the moment the clouds drew over the sky you needed to run as far as you possibly could from Liyue Harbour.

From the broken bits of conversation you had overheard from Childe and Ekaterina it sounded like he was headed to the Golden House, and if he didn’t get what he needed, then he would 'pull out the last stop'.

That could only mean one thing, he would summon that wretched sea beast, unpinning the spears that had kept it locked beneath the weight of the seas. Zhongli’s words come back to haunt you again. You had never forgotten his title as Harbinger despite how hard you had tried to forget. There was nothing you could do to stop him.

You walked onto the balcony and kept your eyes on the sky. On the ground The Millelith seemed more tense than usual, whispering to each other and throwing suspicious glances at anyone who looked vaguely Fatui. The Fatui in return were congregating in the shadowy corners, nervous looks hidden by their masks.

Something in the blue of the ocean had shifted. The ships had stopped in their courses, the wind had died. The further the sun travelled in the sky the higher the tensions rose. All it took was one missive. You saw the messenger, one of Ningguang’s personal assistants, bolting down the stairs to the General. She opened the letter and gave a short nod, the messenger flits away as if she was never there.

Minutes later the Fatui agents that normally crowded the lantern-lit streets below began to leave hurriedly. The winds always picks up before the first rain hits the ground. Overhead what you could only assume were the Adepti made their way across the sky towards the Jade Chamber floating proudly.

You hoped Qiqi and Baizhu had also seen the growing tensions and gotten themselves to a safe place.

You had escaped one storm in Mondstadt only to end up trapped in another, how cruel fate can be. You bit the inside of your cheek until you could feel the metallic taste of blood. You needed to do something, and quickly. You wondered what Marianne would do in your position, would she root herself or fly away?

There was a chance that the Millelith knew you were affiliated with the Fatui. There was a chance the Knights had come to aid Liyue.

The paranoia bloomed in your chest, you tried to suck air in but it was too saturated with salt water. Surveying the streets below again the glints of silver armour drew you in. A flash of navy hair. You turned your heel and slammed the balcony doors behind you. Your back hit the wall and you slid down gasping for breath.

The panic drew in, rotting your insides, lodging itself into every hidden corner of your body.

You drew your catalyst from subspace clutching it tight with shaky hands against your chest. You could fight, not very well but enough to get away. The thought gave you some comfort but you could still feel the eyes of not only The Order but also The Millelith scorching into your back.

Even the walls in Liyue have ears

Childe said he would find you but you just knew that he wouldn't leave The Golden House unscathed. You don’t know exactly what he has up his sleeve but it couldn’t be good. Childe becomes Tartaglia.

The first drop of water ricochets on the ground.

Quickly setting your mind to it you grabbed the bag of letters Childe had left you with and you rushed out of the apartment. You navigate your way across Liyue Harbours red lacquered walkways to the ground. The Millelith now crowded every part of the city, weapons at the ready. Children being dragged along by a parent to the safety of their homes. Shopkeeps hurriedly packing up their stores for the day.

If you ran you could reach the Golden House in an hour. The clouds gathered, the light of the sun slowly fading away. The storm hits the shore.

✧

Your lungs burnt for air and you came to a stop in front of the sealed doors, gleaming in all its opulence. You could already hear the fierce sounds of battle, you pushed your way past the doors only to find the floor had caved in, you stumbled back up onto the stairs. Piles of mora clattered downwards like a waterfall. On the opposite end The Exuvia lay, bronze coils lying lifelessly as a golden shield protected the deceased god. His eyes half lidded and absent, despite being dead he still held enough power to make you want to bask in reverence.

The smell hit you before you laid eyes on it. A great abyssal creature fought with glee, electro singing every bit of the arena below. You tried not to gag the smell of decay and rot infesting the shining glory of the Golden House. You coughed to keep it all down.

It flew across the arena unleashing an unrelenting barrage of attacks, a cape made of stars floating behind it. A giant dead eye sat in the centre of its face.

Aether stood unperturbed returning each strike with trained precision, Geo and Anemo infusing every attack. Paimon shouting at the beast, you couldn't make much out aside from the words didn’t and gnosis .

The beast roared with blind fury. Everything blurred. Your fingers tightened on the legs of a stair, you felt lightheaded the sound below becoming a singular roar. You felt your throat close, bile building up. Acid singed the back of your throat, ears ringing.

You tried to get up but your body collapsed back down, through sheer force of will you kept the vomit down and with your arms shaking and got up and crawled to the edge.

Now was not the time to give into fear. Now was not the time to run.

Everything atom in your body urged you to leave this place but you rooted yourself, perched above the spectacle below. You blinked away the tears and bit your tongue.

Now, seeing the dance through new eyes. The beast held a two bladed spear that quickly transformed into a bow and back. Its attacks were quick and precise, aiming to kill.

It flashed across the area once again, floating for a second. A vortex of water formed, circling around its eye, a moment later a giant whale made of pure hydro burst out of the floor. Its call echoing off the chambers walls in a beautifully haunting sound. One that would burn itself into your memory. It arched slowly turning before it crashed to the floor sending a veritable tsunami of water Aethers way.

You, now a spectator to this gladiatorial waltz, perched above the jagged floor, with nothing that you could do to help. You leaned over the edge to get a better birds-eye view. Water splashed onto your face but you felt no inclination to wipe it off.

Aether was knocked back, you held your breath as he steadied himself and charged again. Weaving in and out of the abomination's attacks, sprinting across the battlefield with the power of Anemo, slowly whittling the thing down to its bones.

That thing was without a doubt Tartaglia, the spear, the bow, Monoceros Caeli. But how did Tartaglia become that abyssal creature? What did he do to himself to transform into that?

Aether let out a piercing cry that shot through your body as he slashed Tartaglia right across the chest. To your surprise he didn't let out any sound, he just fell to the ground clutching the wound.

After a second he pushed himself back up by one arm, panting from exhaustion. Abyssal waste melted off him soaking into the solid ground beneath him. The scent lingers.

“Hah, well then... time to cool off. It seems the burden of the Foul Legacy Transformation was too great for my body.”

He heaved out with what looked like great difficulty. He scrunches his brow and grits drawing himself up to one knee.

“I lacked the opportunity to think this through... And now that I consider the matter more carefully” he takes another breath in.

“You never had any chance of beating me to the Gnosis. You had no connection to the Gnosis, no matter where it had been taken.”

“That's right! We tried to tell you we didn't take it!” Paimon yells in frustration

“Your show of ability today far surpasses that of Signora's initial assessment of you in Mondstadt. Tell me, how could that be?” He seemed singularly focused on Aether, there was a slight edge to his voice, a growing annoyance

Aether stood above the defeated Harbinger with his sword still brandished “Because I'm gradually restoring my former powers”

“You already know the answer, don't you? I can see it in your eyes. But if that is a secret you wish to keep, I guess I'll just have to curb my curiosity.” Tartaglia draws himself back up to his full height again, the front of his grey suit slowly staining with blood.

“The battle has already left me satisfied. Anyone who strives as I do to grow stronger shall be called a friend, even if our friendship can only be shown in battle against one another.”

“Pretty sure that's not the normal way to make friends.” Aether said, disdain seeping into his voice

Tartaglia’s tone shifted into that of a more dangerous one, the hint of an edge becoming a blade.

“Unfortunately, I must bring this amiable conversation to an end. My quest still beckons. Given the Gnosis wasn't taken by anyone, then we must look once again to the beginning.”

He glances towards the great dragon “Perhaps it was never in the Exuvia to begin with. In fact, it might be that the Exuvia was just a diversion of sorts.”

“So you mean that… Rex Lapis still lives?”

Your eyes widened and you slapped a hand over your mouth to cover the gasp. You had seen him careen out of the sky. Tartaglia glanced upwards to see your figure lurking above, he gives no indication that he knows you're there.

“Yes, it appears so. Interesting to say the least. It seems that the guardian deity of the capital of commerce is also well-versed in the little manoeuvres beyond the boundaries of contracts. As such, we must now look to our backup plan.”

No, he said he didn’t want to do that. Your fingers tightened on the ledge. Childe continued as he began to pace around as it he wasn’t bleeding out.

“I had hoped it would never come to this, for the weak will be swept away in the process. The truth is, the world belongs to those who pursue strength.” He gave another quick glance in your direction before focusing on Aether again.

“I seldom willingly involve myself with the weak. Unfortunately, we cannot be picky about our methods as Fatui Harbingers. Children must all learn to eat their vegetables sometime.”

“So, what are you planning to do?” Paimon asked. You knew what he was about to say, you wished he wouldn't, the fool, so blinded by his devotion.

“I will awaken the god that lies dormant beneath Guyun Stone Forest.” Childe announced, walking towards the centre so the light fell directly over him.

“Osial, Overlord of the Vortex, who was defeated by Morax the Geo Archon in the Archon War, and who has remained pinned beneath the waves by the Geo Archon's stone spears ever since.”

He moves his mask from being perched on his head to over his face. In the stark light he was not just the man you had gotten to know, he had been armoured into a beast. The 11th Harbinger.

The third face of this man.

“If such an ancient god were to be unleashed upon Liyue Harbour, defenceless without the protection of its deity…”

He cocked his head, the words he had told you before, you couldn't tell what he was thinking anymore.

“Do you think the cunning Rex Lapis would just stand aloof and watch the ensuing destruction?”

Childe summons a number of Sigils which begin to circle him like a vortex, becoming a golden blur. You were now leaning so far over the edge you could fall over if you moved anymore.

“With the power of so many Sigils of Permission concentrated in one place, along with that which was bestowed upon me as a Harbinger by our Tsaritsa... Breaking the subduing might of the Geo Archon's spears for a time should be no obstacle.” He gleefully says

The light rain transformed into a storm, bullets of rain falling through the broken glass of the ceiling soaking everyone.

“Using the powers of ancient gods in such a situation fails to interest me and is largely against my principles. But knowing that such an action will not only force the Geo Archon to show its hand, but you as well... That makes matters a little more intriguing.”

You try not to snicker. At least he's consistent. It became increasingly clear that you would need to question him after this is over.

“Let's see, will the nation that has lost its deity be swallowed up by an ancient malice once more? If you wish to drown together with the people of Liyue, You're free to stay and enjoy the show!”

Tartaglia raises his arm and transforms himself into a pure trail of hydro and ascends spiralling out of the broken ceiling, the sigils following behind him, leaving a trail of light to follow.

You watched the man leave, an unfamiliar feeling filled the whole of you, not rage, not fear, not confusion but a mix of all three. You just knew it was time to fill your end of the contract, no man would come out of this unscathed. Especially one as reckless as Tartaglia.

Gritting your teeth you leaned back and stood up, no longer caring for the two beings below.

You knew how to do it in theory, the final form of elemental mastery. There was no other way to get out of here quick enough to still be able to track him down. You took advantage of the storm soaking you and flexed your fingers gathering the water falling from the sky around you, becoming one with it.

A sensation of nothingness followed by one of harmony. You pushed yourself against the force of the storm into the sky only to see the multi headed beast. Its belly was glowing as its heads unleashed an uncanny call into the atmosphere, almost like it was calling Rex Lapis himself to try and tie it down underneath the waves again.

You couldn't quite see what was going on but the shock of seeing Osial unleashed, seeing him taunt an Archon was enough for you to crash into the ground below.

Pain speared through your shoulder, you let out a strangled scream as you clutched it. You could see the blood seep through the mud. You sat there numb for a few seconds, head resting on a wall as you sucked in air through gritted teeth, tears mixing with the rain. Adrenaline surged through your body numbing the pain for a few minutes, giving you just enough clarity to act.

You ripped off a part of your skirt off and tore it in two. Taking advantage of the rain you cleaned the mud off, allowing yourself to gasp at the pain. With the other piece you applied pressure and tied it around your shoulder. Not the best but it’ll have to do. You rolled it, at least it wasn't completely broken.

Orienting yourself you looked towards the east only to see writhing beasts and the cries of people. You had somehow landed on the Jade Chamber. How was a question for another time.

Scrambling up you looked around. Infront were the Qixing and the Adepti firing shots out of ballista. Aether, Ningguang and two unfamiliar women held the invading Fatui at bay. Elemental energy overwhelmed the air making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

He must have ordered them to intercept the attack and hold The Qixing and Adepti out for long enough for Rex Lapis to miraculously appear. You doubted he would show himself. You didn't know what was going on or what a gnosis was but Rex Lapis looked about ready to rot when you saw him.

Looking frantically below for Tartaglia you spotted a sheen of gold just outside the Harbour. You narrowed your eyes and hoped it was the right person. Gathering your remaining courage, you looked downwards. Only one way. You gathered the storm once again and jumped.

You were hurtling towards the ground in pure elemental form, the rush of fear and pure thrill mixed in your chest. Within a few seconds you had hit the ground. You rain through the soaked grass ignoring the pain.

You stopped in your tracks as Osial stilled, three of its heads converging to form a beam of light into the sky gathering its power.

Out of the corner of your eye you see Tartaglia making his way towards the city, sigils still circling around him. Through the sheets of rain you could almost see a limp.

“Tartaglia!” you called out as you ran towards him. He stopped, his eyes widening at the sight of you.

“H-How! you were in the Golden house, you should be far away and somewhere safe”

You reached him, hooking his arm across your shoulders to help him walk. You grunted from the pain shooting through your shoulder at light speed. He still stunk of the abyss.

“Doesn't matter, we signed a contract and now it's time I helped you”

“You should hate me”

“That's to talk about later, right now we need to get you out of here” you moved, wanting to get to somewhere where there was relative safety.

He fell to the ground taking you down with him. Not a moment later a great flash of light took you by surprise. Childe grabbed the back of your head and pushed you down to the ground with him just as a shockwave winds the both of you.

Osail had fallen along with the Jade Chamber.

You lay on the ground with him for a few moments, panting as the rain stopped, sun shining through the dense cover of clouds. The sigils disappeared around him.

You narrowed your eyes and sat up to lean over Childe who was sprawled flat on his back, the both of you soaked to the bone.

“Care to explain what the fuck I just saw” part of you wanted to kick him in the ribs and leave after the stunt he just pulled.

“Which part of it?” he grunts back

“All of it” your clutch your shoulder again

Childe sighed and sat up on his elbows. His eyes had smears of purple and blue beneath him, his pale skin seemed white now.

“The beast that you saw is a result of abyssal corruption. I fell into the abyss when I was fourteen for three months and met my Master, Skirk. She moulded me into who I am today. Before that I was just a kid, albeit a little shy, but after that… there was a battle-lust growing inside of the that couldn't be quenched”

Childe glanced away from you and coughed. He lay back down on his back, clearly too exhausted to continue sitting up.

“That form - Foul Legacy, it takes a lot out of me, which is why I wanted you here so my troops didn’t have to see me like this. I’m their leader and I will not let them lay eyes on me when I’m so weak” He spat the last word out like it rotted in his mouth.

“So you did this for what? Your ego? Your pride?” You sharply question him

“No, I did it to keep the Fatui strong, if it was for my ego you wouldn't be here now would you?”

“And what about all the electro you were using? And while I’m at it what on Teyvat is a gnosis”

Childe unhooks his vision from his belt and flips it to reveal a purple gem with the Fatui insignia inlaid.

“A delusion, it mimics the power of a vision without Celestia's blessing”

He pressed his lips together in a thin line. “A gnosis… its an Archons connection to Celestia, it acts like an amplifier to their existing powers”

You picked up the delusion from his palm, it somehow felt deeply unsettling and yet so right to hold such a small instrument of blasphemy against the creators of the world. You felt a smile tug at the edge of your lips

Every part of you was conflicted about Childe, you couldn't look at him without disgust. He tried to eliminate a whole city to get what he wanted. Yet you also wanted to follow him. Join in his aspiration for power in the face of immovable gods. But if you did that would mean sacrificing your freedom, the one thing that had gotten you tangled with him in the first place.

“Y/N, you should hate me for what I did”

“I-I do and I don't. You tried to drown a whole city and yet…”

“Then why do you stick by me”

“...because much like you, I want to have power. I don't know what that means or what that looks like but if it means being with you then so be it.”

“You want to shackle yourself to the Tsaritsa too?” He asked, a glint of hope sparked in his normally emotionless eyes.

“I don't know. All I know is that the gods have turned their back on their people. First the corruption in Mondstadt and now Rex Lapis failing to save his people…”

“Hah… were finally seeing eye to eye”

“Let's get you healed” You sighed, relenting to him. “Do you think you can make it to the Harbour? There's a way point a few hundred metres from here”

He coughed again, small black flecks in his phlegm. He saw your evident shock “Just abyssal remnants, it happens every time.”

You stood, helping him up with you. The two of you limped to the waypoint, the storm finally beginning to calm.

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mlmxreader · 11 months ago

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Soldiers and Scouts | Alfie Solomons x m!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ "I came over because I was fucking worried" + “What the fuck have you done?” + “Shut up and kiss me, you idiot”

[Either partner is in danger or Alfie is and the other is pretty much ready to burn the whole of London down OR during war time and one of them tries to pull something really stupid in the trenches to try to get to the other after they're seperated] ❞

: ̗̀➛ No Man's Land in Winter is a treacherous, dangerous territory to cross, especially when you go over enemy lines to get back the one thing worth dying for.

: ̗̀➛ swearing, general war talk, POWs

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

The cold had truly swept through No Man’s Land.

Mud turned to slick ice and harsh snow. Hailstorms were common. It was impossible to get warm, you could see it on the faces and hands of so many men. Red and raw knuckles, swollen fingers that refused to bend. Runny and red noses. Constant shaking limbs.

Even sat around the small fires, it was impossible to get warm, and the hailstorms would often kill whatever heat there was to be had. Some men had taken to sleeping in groups, big puddles of uniforms forming in the trenches as men did their best to keep warm.

But it was impossible.

Once a day, one man would be nominated to go and collect firewood from the nearby forest, and although you didn’t want him to go, it had been Alfie’s turn; although he had not returned, and when you checked your pocket watch, you could see that he had been gone for nearly two hours.

That wasn’t normal. It took half an hour at most.

You were getting worried, although you knew that the Major would not let you go so easily; he was determined to keep you all in the trenches, it was safer in numbers. But when the scouts came back, you knew you had to do something.

One of them pulled you aside, the Canadian patch on his arm covered in dirt and snow. “They said I should tell you alone… said you’d act out.”

“Is he dead?” You asked softly.

He shook his head, adjusting the bayonet in his arms as he cleared his throat. “Captured, Sir.”

You nodded slowly, licking your lips and taking a look around; the Major would never allow such a thing, but you knew what you had to do. “You’re Squamish, right?”

He nodded again. “Yessir.”

“You ever had to walk on ice in the middle of the night?” You asked.

He gave you a funny look, raising his brow. “No, why?”

“You wanna give it a go?”

He sighed, licking his lips as he took a look around and lowered his voice. “You’re not seriously thinking about going out there, are you? It’s fucking suicide.”

You shrugged. “Alfie means a lot to me, Sergeant… he’d do it for me.”

“This is a fucking death trap,” he insisted, speaking through his teeth. “And what about the Major? If he finds out-”

“I will handle the Major,” you reassured, shaking your head. “Are you in or not, Sergeant?”

He put his bayonet against the side of the trench, and saluted you as he nodded. “This is the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever agreed to… I’m in.”

You extended your hand for him, and when he shook it, you patted him on the shoulder gently. “You ready to be a ghost, scout?”

“Please,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “Francis.”

You nodded curtly, tapping his hand as you took a step back. “Francis… anyone ever call you Frankie?”

“Sometimes,” he shrugged. “Yeah.”

“You’re with me, Frankie,” you told him, gesturing for him to follow. “You know the land better than I do… think you can get around Jerry?”

“I’ve managed to get around Ivan and Tommy,” he admitted. “Jerry is usually difficult, given the lack of friendly, but… it’s doable, yeah.”

You invited him to sit with you near the very end of the trench. “You got a gas mask?”

Francis nodded, patting the messenger bag on his hip. “Always, Sir.”

“Solomons,” you said quietly. “My surname is Solomons.”

He looked at you, then furrowed his brows. “You and Alfie… companions?”

You nodded slowly. “So you understand why I need to go.”

He extended his hand, and when you gave him yours, he held it tightly. “A lot more than you might think… my companion is… he’s at home, medical exemption, thankfully… look, if you wanna do this… we best go in at night. If anything, we go in, we attack the rear and the weaker defences - split them up into smaller fractions. We avoid what strong points we can.”

You nodded in agreement, daring to smile at him as you raised your brows slightly. “Shock troop?”

Francis smiled back. “For a short while.”

“So we attack at midnight,” you said quietly. “Wait until both sides are asleep… we go in through the rear, we avoid what strong points we can, get Alfie and the other POWs out.”

“This is fucking suicide,” he laughed, shaking his head. “But yes.”

“Good,” you whispered. “Wait for me near the edge of our trench on the West, ten to midnight?”

Francis shook your hand as he hummed. “Absolutely, Solomons.”

Midnight.

You and Francis had your gas masks on as you climbed down into the German trench, keeping close together with your bayonets fixed and ready; he was two steps behind you as he signalled to where the prisoners were being kept.

Just behind the German trench, behind a large fence of barbed wire.

They would be deported in the morning, taken to the actual prisoner of war camps; you had to get to them before that, and although you were nervous, although you were anxious, you trusted Francis to keep you on the straight and narrow until you got to the fence.

He handed you a pair of wire cutters, keeping an eye out as you worked on cutting the fence open; his bayonet fixed and ready to be set off as he scanned the horizon.

“Take the prisoners,” you whispered to him, opening the fence. “Get them to ours.”

Francis nodded, daring to shake your hand one final time. “It was an honour, Sir.”

“Likewise,” you gave him a quick salute as you went into the small camp, nudging the first sleeping soldier you found. “English?”

He groaned, turning over onto his side. “Unfortunately fluent.”

“Get the others,” you whispered, turning him onto his back. “There’s a man just outside the fence, Canuck, he’ll get you back to allied territory.”

The soldier slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes. “And who are you?”

You shrugged. “Just a soldier. Go, get the others.”

He nodded, shaky on his legs as he started to go around the camp with you and wake the others; Francis stood just outside of the fence, ushering them aside and hushing them quietly. If the plan was going to work, there could be no disruption that might wake Jerry.

There was one soldier left, and you perked up at the sound of his snoring. You turned to the prisoner beside you, shaking your head as you removed your gas mask, hanging it limply on your belt.

“Go, I’ll get him, don’t worry.”

He nodded, making a quick and fleeting exit; you knelt down next to the final prisoner, trying not to laugh at how he snored. You knew it anywhere.

You could still remember the first time you had heard it and had woken up with a start thinking that there was a plane flying overhead; gently, you shook his shoulder.

“Alfie!” You whispered. “Alfie, get up!”

He grumbled, swatting your hand away. “Five more minutes…”

You laughed softly, turning him onto his back and straddling his waist. “Alfie, it’s me. Get up.”

Slowly, he opened his eyes, and glared at you. “Oh, for fuck’s sake - what the fuck have you done?”

You grinned, taking a quick look around. “I’m here to rescue you, la.”

“Fuckin’ ‘ell,” he muttered, resisting the urge to grab your thighs. “You are fuckin’ daft… do you have any fuckin’ idea what the Major-”

“Alfie,” you growled, rolling your eyes. “C’mon.”

“Why?”

“I came over because I was fucking worried,” you told him sarcastically.

“Alright, alright,” he huffed, waiting for you to stand before he followed suit. “I’m comin’, no need to get snarky.”

You smiled, taking his hand in yours and leading the way; to his credit, Francis had marked certain trees to show you where to go, the path he had taken, and you soon enough followed with Alfie in tow.

But in the middle of both axis and allied trenches, you paused, and grinned as you brought Alfie down into the ice and snow with you. He raised a brow, removing his cap and letting out a soft huff.

“What the fuck are you doin’?”

You smiled, putting your hands on his face as you hummed. “Taking a moment to realise you ain’t dead.”

He rolled his eyes, putting his hands on your face and humming softly. “Shut up and kiss me, you idiot.”

You did as your Captain ordered, all too giddy to feel his lips on yours as you leaned in. It was quick, rushed and hasty, but even still, you both smiled when you pulled away.

“I think you ought to thank me,” you said softly. “I did save your arse.”

Alfie huffed, licking his lips. “You could get fuckin’ shot for this.”

“So?” You scoffed. “At least I’ll know I got shot for something worth dying for.”

He frowned a little, shaking his head. “Wish this fuckin’ war had never made it to us, I really fuckin’ do… we should back home with me mum, talkin’ about the weddin’.”

You sighed, something caught in your throat and making it seem like cotton had piled up within it. “We don’t have a choice, Alf… a ceasefire ain’t gonna happen - George and Asquith won’t let it, and you know that.”

“That’s because they’re cunts,” he whispered, but then he smiled, and he dared to laugh softly. “How’d you know I was in that camp?”

You shrugged, daring to grin and laugh quietly. “I heard you snoring… knew immediately it was you.”

Alfie grinned back, taking a quick look around. “Of fuckin’ course you would… c’mon, we best get back before anyone realises you’ve gotten into deep, deep shit.”

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finniestoncrane · 2 years ago

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Your One True Nemesis

Chapter 12: also on AO3 Masterlist Here Arkham!Riddler x Female!Reader, word count: 1.7k we're rockin with mark because mark is rockin with us request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: angst, love triangle kinda

“Where are you going this time?”

You appeared in the doorway to your bedroom, catching Eddie off guard clearly, as he jumped and turned to you.

“Sneaking away?”

“The transaction with Scarecrow. There’s more to it. I’m going out to meet his man, or men. Or woman, I suppose potentially.”

You raised your eyebrows, smiling incredulously as you brought your phone out, typing a message to Mark as you walked over to Eddie.

“Another drop off today?”

“Yep. See you soon?”

As you approached Eddie, you put your phone away, putting you hand out flat expectantly.

“What?”

“Gimme the stuff.”

“No.”

“I’ve just checked, it’s the same guy as last time. We have a rapport. Let me go.”

Irritated by your tone, the way you seemed to think you had any authority in the matter, Eddie held tight to the messenger bag. But he realised that he did indeed have better things to be doing, and so he gave in quickly, not without an insulting remark to put you in your place.

“Fine. Anyone who makes such a quick connection with someone like you is bound to be intolerable. Be back quickly though.”

Skipping out past him, you felt good, a sense of relief. It was difficult to be cooped up all the time, especially without windows or natural light. You were worried you had a vitamin D deficiency, and it was definitely impacting on your mental health. Wandering the streets of Gotham, as disgusting and terrifying as they were, was still a pleasant treat compared to being in the timeless pit with Eddie. How long had you been down there now? It was hard to tell when sleep schedules meant very little, and the days all blurred into one another. Wake, cook, be insulted, cry, sleep. In no particular order. And on repeat.

You were so engrossed in your thoughts and ruminations that you didn’t see the person approaching you until you were smacking into them, quickly rushing to apologise before you placed the face.

“Sorry, so sorry, I- Oh! It’s you!”

Mark smiled, raising his eyebrow.

“Oh, so I don’t get an apology?”

“No, that’s not what I meant, sorry. H-how… are you?”

“Couldn’t be better, babe. You got the stuff? I’ll go first this time, keep your trust in me up.”

He reached into his pockets and produced another three vials of the same liquid, as well as two small pouches filled with a deep green powder. You knew better than to ask what it was. As much as you were fine with the moral ambiguity around Edward’s work, sometimes the legal ramifications of what you were involved with still struck a panicked chord in your chest.

“Babe… the stuff?”

“Oh, shit, yeah.”

Handing over the contents of the messenger bag to Mark, you sighed.

“What’s up, buttercup?”

“Hmm… Eddie said to be back quick, but… coffee…”

You looked to your right, through the window of the coffee shop. You could smell the scent of the roasted beans wafting on the air. How long had it been since you’d had fresh coffee? Something that wasn’t brewed in the broken pot in your shabby kitchen.

“Oh, come on! Like he’s going to be that annoyed. Besides, we met almost in the middle, you still wouldn’t be at the meeting spot yet.”

“You’re right… why were you heading this way anyway?”

Mark shrugged as he stepped past you, opening the door to the café and holding it ajar for you.

“Dunno, thought it might be nice to walk with you a little bit of the way.”

Grinning, you pressed past him and took a seat by the window. Mark followed you in and leaned over the chair, elbows on the table.

“Lemme get this, what you after?”

“Uh… flat white. With three sugars.”

“Boring. I’ll be right back!”

You watched him jog to the counter, leaning against it, seeming to effortlessly charm the barista as he took the order and started work on your order. And you kept watching him, as he brought the coffees over and sat down, as he talked about his life, as he told you how he started working for Scarecrow. It was hard not to look at him. He kind of commanded your gaze. So charismatic. So friendly, and nice. Being around someone who didn’t seem to hate you and didn’t punctuate every sentence with something mean about you was refreshing, and once again, you hated to have to say goodbye. But if there was anything that would sour the mood that Mark had set, it would be Eddie’s interrogation if you were later than he expected you to be.

And right on queue, as soon as he heard you walking through the living space, he came out of his office and began his second round of questioning.

“Did you enjoy your date?”

“What? It wasn’t a date, I was doing an errand for you.”

“Yes. And the rest of the things I make you do put you in such a good mood, don’t they?”

“I take pride in my work.”

“Since when.”

“Always. But you’ve never cared to notice.”

Turning from him, you went to your room, closing the door behind you and leaning against it, shuddering as the adrenaline coursed through you. If you’d had the energy to let yourself be hurt, you would have allowed the fantastical idea that Eddie might be jealous of Mark to settle, see how it felt. But you couldn’t do that to yourself. Instead, you lay face down on your bed and forced yourself to nap.

You were wakened by a thumping on the door, jolting you out of the dream that was already fading, but which you knew involved Eddie and Mark. Opening the door, you sighed.

“What?”

“Why does it take you so long to meet with this Mark?”

“Again? Eddie, come on. It’s just… It’s nice to get out!”

Eddie narrowed his eyes, his mistrust etched onto the smouldering glare he gave you.

“Really? You would recommend it?”

“I would actually.”

“Perfect. Well, while you were in here doing nothing productive to anyone, I completed another part of Crane’s order. I think I’ll go this time then. I wonder if it’ll be so easy for him to charm his way into my heart, too?”

“Eddie, that’s…”

“That’s what? Entirely accurate? I feel like you might be a bit misguided here, in whatever you think your relationship with this goon is. You’re being manipulated. I can’t trust you not to fall idiotic head over clumsy heels for this enemy, and provide him with all of my secrets.”

“What? He can’t just enjoy my company? You think the only reason anyone would be nice to me is because they want something from me?”

“Why do you think you’re here?”

You clenched your jaw, teeth clamped together as you tried to avoid saying anything in return, choosing not to rise to his taunts. Instead, you reached for the messenger bag, which he quickly pulled back out of your reach.

“Uh, uh, uh. You can call your little friend and tell him you won’t be seeing him this evening.”

“Oh, like I’m grounded or something?”

Leaving him in his silence, crueller than any words he might have spat at you, you pushed past him, storming out and onto the dark streets of the city. It was dangerous, and stupid, but you were beyond caring. You just kept walking, and walking. Before you really thought of where you were going, you noticed you were at the park where you met Mark the first time, and you sat down on the bench to gather your thoughts before you headed back to the sewers, certain that Eddie would be gone by then.

“Ah, miserable as usual.”

At first, you thought you had imagined his voice, so desperate for something sweet in this sour moment, but it was definitely Mark, right there beside you, taking a seat on the bench.

“I thought it was Nigma himself who was meeting me.”

“It is… I… I didn’t know this was where he was meeting you, sorry. I just had to get out…”

“I see… y’know, I can only lighten your mood so much. I set you up, he knocks you down, huh?”

“I don’t know if you’re joking or not, but that’s really what it feels like.”

Mark sighed, resting his arms on the bench behind you.

“We’re not meeting here, we’re meeting in the alley just up there. I saw you though, alone. In the dark. I don’t know how tough you think you are babe, but not a good idea.”

Leaning back, you rested your head against his arm, letting out a soft groan.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“I think it would bore you to death.”

“Try me.”

“It’s just very hard. To be around him. And to deal with how I feel… about… things. I knew he would be difficult, I did. I didn’t go into this blindly, assuming that it would all work out wonderfully. But I just didn’t think I’d feel like this.”

“And how do you feel?”

You looked into the sky, no visible stars beyond the smog and the clouds. A dark, grey abyss that felt like the ceiling of a prison cell as you stared up at it.

“I’m just… tired. I think.”

“You think?”

“I don’t know.”

Looking to the side, you could see Mark’s face, his warm smile, lighting up his face and his eyes as he tried to silently comfort you, concern behind it, a genuine desire to see you happy. You turned away, but you leaned to the side, into him, resting your head on his shoulder when he brought his arm to yours. It was innocent enough. A friend comforting a friend. But it felt wrong, like a betrayal almost. Of who, you weren’t sure. But Eddie knew. And as he watched you both on the bench from the other side of the street, he clutched at the strap of the messenger bag, infuriated and confused.

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cluelesswithadashofsmartass · 2 years ago

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My newest project: These Bitches Need Therapy: Westeros Edition. Specifically the Dance of Dragons era.

A/N-This is meant for a female reader, but make the names whatever you want. You’re also 18 because its hotd and shit happens. The italics are you thinking. I own nothing.

CW: swearing, mentions of blood, death, and everything else that comes with medieval life

Part 1: Why me?!

“That was a fucking trip,” you say, turning off the newest episode of House of the Dragon.

If Viserys was my dad, I would’ve ripped him a new one. Who would allow their laboring wife to be cut open with no pain meds? All of is was for nothing and Aemma and their son died anyway.

And he marries his daughter’s best friend? This bitch is doing himself no favors, especially if he and Alicent have any sons. Rhaenyra’s claim to the Iron Throne would be challenged and if I remember the book correctly, would spark a bloody civil war.

I blame Jaehaerys for choosing Viserys over Rhaenys and I blame Otto Hightower for being a scheming, power hungry schlub. That being said, the episode was amazing. I can’t wait for the next one.

You get ready for the night and go to sleep with dragons and high born idiots filling your dreams.

————————–———————————————

the universe said: And I took that personally.

———————————————————————

You wake up sitting on the ground against the wall of a building, likely a butcher’s due to the smell of blood and meat coming from it. Two men in gold cloaks and armor walk past you and send a confused and disdainful glance your way.

Gold cloaks? Armor? Wait a minute.

You stand up and lean against the butcher’s, taking in your surroundings. People and horse drawn carts were moving at varying speeds down the thin pathways and dirt roads in front of you. They were in clothes that you had only seen in period shows and movies. Speaking of period shows, the smell was certainly accurate. The scent of excrement, both human and animal, was strong and nearly made you gag.

You look down and see that your dressed in the clothes you had been wearing before you sat down to watch House of the Dragon. Wait…

I’m dreaming. I have to be dreaming. There is no way that I woke up in Westeros and in Flea Botttom no less. I’m definitely going to die, if not from disease or starvation or murder then from the fucking civil war that these aristocratic idiots will start in the future!

You reach into your jeans and find a piece of paper crumpled up in your front right pocket. It reads:

‘Dear (Y/N) (L/N),

You may be wondering why you are here. It is because you have knowledge that will be useful in these coming years. The future you have seen will come to fruition and many will die unless you do something. This was not done by accident. You have been given great power that can make or break kings and queens. Look in the bag next to you and find the small leather journal. Within it contains intimate knowledge and instructions that will help you in your assignment. The bag itself is magic and contains objects that may be useful to you depending on the situation you find yourself in. I realize that this is the last place that you want to be, but you are the only one who can help these people. They need an outside and frankly, modern perspective, especially the royal family. I will talk to you through the journal everyday to assist you. Just write the questions you have down at night in the back of the journal and they will be answered when you wake up.

Best of luck,

Lucia, Mistress of Fate’

What the actual fuck?

You notice the brown messenger bag. Fuming, you reach inside and find the leather journal along with a black hooded cloak, a ballpoint pen, a drawstring coin purse, and a sheathed knife. You open the journal and flip to the front page.

‘Make your way to the Red Keep and keep a low profile.’

This is so stupid! Why should I have to risk my life and conform to these inbred fucks? I should be in my bed, in my house, and in my time period. I shouldn’t be here because some lady wants to play God and throw me into this medieval hellscape. But, I’m going to die anyway so I might as well make my time interesting.

You pull on the cloak and draw up the hood. Better for these people not to see the sweatshirt, tank top, jeans, and sneaker combo right away. You sling the messenger bag over your shoulder and make your way over to the line in front of a food stall. The woman at the counter was selling skewers of meat, peppers, and onions. Food was food, so you get out the coin purse. You glance up and see a man looking at you in an unidentifiable, yet unsettling way. You take out the knife and attach the sheath to the loops of your jeans.

It’s your turn after five people. The woman looks confused at your clothes and opens her mouth to question who the hell you were, but shuts up at the copper coin you place on the counter of her stall and hands you a skewer. You silently nod your thanks and walk across the dirt road to a bench outside of what looks like a bakery, being mindful of the horse carts.

Biting into a pepper, you open the journal to the first page again. It says the same thing. You might as well get to walking. The Red Keep is a long way from where you are now.

————————baby timeskip————————

You’re panting by the time you get the to the Sept. You lean back on the outside of the Sept, grateful for the cool marble against your flushed, sweaty skin.

You look back up and see the Red Keep in the distance. With a huff, you push off the wall and stand upright to start walking again.

And not even a minute into the long walk to the keep, a slender body collides into you. Both you of you fall back in opposite directions; you into a pile of cabbage and the stranger, a girl after you looked closely, into the dirt road. A horse was galloping fast toward her, its hooves in the perfect position to cave in her skull. The rider wasn’t paying attention as he was more focused on trying to bring his mount back under control.

Welp. I guess I can cross ‘save someone’ off on my bucket list.

You scramble towards the girl and yank her off the ground by the forearms; apparently you pulled too hard since she cried out in pain. Her cry alerted some guards in the near vicinity. The guards had a sigil emblazoned on their armor, some kind of tower. However, you didn’t stop to dwell on it as you were busy trying to get the fuck away from them.

It didn’t take them long to catch up with you. They seized your elbows and hauled you the rest of the way to the Red Keep, likely to the dungeons for seemingly attacking a highborn girl.

So much for keeping a low profile.

——————time skip because I’m lazy————

You get tossed into a dark cell; your belongings had been taken from you, save for the journal. Minutes blur together as you wondered if this would be the way you died. At least your sweatshirt provides some warmth.

All of a sudden, the cell door bursts in and an armored guard stands in the doorway holding a flickering torch. You raise a hand to shield your eyes against the flames.

“On ya feet, woman. Can’t ‘ave ya late to ya own trial,” he said with a rotted sneer.

He fastened chains akin to handcuffs to your wrists and pulled you up to stand by your shoulder. He then grabs the chain connecting the chains and pulls you along behind him up the stairs.

While walking, you think back to the sigil on the guards’ armor.

A tower. Tower. Tower… A high tower? Yes, Hightower! Wait…a Hightower? Oh fuck me…

Your fears were confirmed when the guard left you in front of the man himself. Lord Otto of House Hightower, Hand of the King to King Viserys of House Targaryen, King of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros, looked down on you with a well deserved glower from a cushioned stool. The king himself sat on the Iron Throne with a similar look.

And the girl you pulled out of the road is standing a little ways from them with some other ladies, Queen Aemma and Princess Rhaenyra among them, with an uncertain expression on her face. A girl you now recognize as Lady Alicent of House Hightower, daughter of the Hand, and future Queen Consort to King Viserys.

Lucia, if I lose my fucking head, I will find you and kill you, slowly.

A/N- If this gets 80+ notes, I’ll write a second part. Also, my inbox is open. Ask me things!

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