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8-rae-rae-8 · 7 months ago

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CW Abuse, queerphobia, neglect, religion, attempts of cleansing via religious practices, minor Agere

Johnny was pushed to leave his house as an older teen. Each straw snapped in half as his parents picked at his brain. Seventeen with nowhere to go. A fresh mohawk on his head, eyeliner traced around his bright blue eyes. All he had were the clothes on his back, he didn't have time to get anything else. Not between his mother's shouting and his father being home soon. All he could do was get out his window with a protein bar, wallet, and a half empty bottle of water.

Where was he supposed to go looking like this? With no one close enough to run to, no family that dared to bring him in. They would tell his mother or the cops anyway.

He had enough money in a bank account he could withdraw from, a bus ticket to get past the boarder couldn't be too expensive. If he could just get there and find somewhere cheap to stay, where no one would look for him, he'd make it eventually. Make it where, he didn’t know.

A job was out of the question for now, no proof of residency. The ticket over the boarder was already expensive enough, a hotel was out of the question.

“You’re not the son I raised.”

“God, I fear the adult you’ll grow into.”

The way his mother spoke to herself, bled herself dry pleading to a god that would never reach his hand from the heavens and ‘save her from her son’s madness’.

The way she screamed as he locked his door and opened his window.

“You’re dead set on ruining everything and everyone!!”

She had hissed. She pleaded for him to straighten out, be normal. But no, he dressed in patches, spikes raised on his shoulders, a rainbow painted on his back pocket. Faded and dulled over the years of his parents painting over it with black paint to simply ruin it. Ruin his identity, ruin his image.

“Save the son I disciplined and praised.. For the one who disobeyed me.”

His mother sat on her knees, hands folded in prayer. In pleas. His father joined every so often, muttering prayers at her side. Sycned words, as if they knew what the other would say.

“There’d be time to rectify him.”

Time to fix him.

Time to break him apart and mend him in their image.

That’s how he knew he needed to go. His last straw snapped in half. He needed far away. Across the boarder, safe somewhere else. Somewhere the cops wouldn’t be looking. Somewhere he could slip in.

His first night is spent mapping out the city. Mud stained boots washed by puddles and rain, revealing their old rose design on the side. The yellow stitching stained brown long ago. Walking till his heels bled and his lungs no longer filled with air. The best place to sleep was some shitty motel that was suspiciously cheap. Thirty pounds a night.

Good enough for him.

With the amount of money from his card now transferred to cash, he broke the debit card up and threw it out before he got his place in the motel. Some dull town near Newcastle. Good enough for a sleep now he knew the area. He walked long enough to know that no one was coming for him.

They never did. Not friends, not family. Not even the people that could make a good buck off him, like employers.

In the cold of the motel, he was alone. He shed his drenched clothes to dry on a towel rack. There were no bandages to clean up his heels, just scratchy towels. But home didn’t offer that comfort either. That forsaken house was freezing, colder than any unfamiliar place could be.

Johnny couldn’t recall the many things that made it that way. It had just been so cold for the longest time. He could point out feelings and sensations, but never a full event, like his mind forced him not to remember what all happened. Just in the last week, he could remember the way his skin crawled as his pastor touched his shoulder and pulled him in for a chat. Never was he allowed to stay home, not since he started showing signs of being ‘impure’.

Impurity. That’s why he screams to be seen. As more than a mess, as much than an infection for people to hide their children from. Impurity, rectification… A disease to be healed.

At thirteen, he was first called a devil’s spawn. An evil creation. A faggot over something so simple as art. A piece to study anatomy leading to him losing all access to the outside. His parents even faked his sick days to pull him to church daily until he was deemed cleansed.

His mother’s scolding stuck in his head, no more than words and a tone that conveyed his apparent betrayal.

“You can throw your life away, just not at my expense.”

Over art. Like he was throwing everything away over pencil and paper. His parents surely saw it like that. Constant reminders that he was being watched by an unseen god and angels felt so completely stupid to him, but had him checking corners and his closet every night like habit.

Even still, he checked the motel’s closets and bathrooms. Like he swore he needed, or they would find and watch him. Even so far away from their church.

The sheets scratched at his skin. Maybe he should have thought about his comfort, but that wasn’t exactly something he was sure he could even get. Comfort, far from anything even semi-familiar. So, so very far from everything he knew. In a new town, with bloodied heels and a broken mind. Pieces chipped off every second, he was sure.

What else could be that hazy feeling behind his eyes?

What else could be forcing him to get comfortable, dispite the horrendous sheets?

His eyes shot around the room. Door locked, bathroom light on, closet shut. Then his eyes closed, nearly as if forced by exhaustion and something creeping around in his head. So very alone, but something trying to warm him. It was gentle, like the hum of a lullaby.

Johnny tugged the fabric of his tanktop into his mouth, suckling at the fabric. Each movement helped him relax into the cheap bed, his body heat warming the blankets with ease. He ran hot dispite the chill of the air around him.

He could get himself far enough, he could run till he couldn’t move. But he dreamed of someone coming to save him. Someone like him, someone who would love him unconditionally. Someone turned to two, then three and four. People who would love him with every ounce of their beings.

#john soap mactavish #cod mw2 #cod #cod mwii #call of duty #cod agere #abuse #queerphobia #homophobia #religious abuse

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mehmetminded · 6 months ago

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White and Black and Gold

(part 1)

By: MehmetMinded

Potential spoilers for Cradle and Beware of Chicken

[SECTOR 87]

[THE WAY]

A river of textured blue flowed from oasis to oasis in a desert of non-existence. Points of light dotted along it like berries on a bush. Though by no means common it is not unknown for travelers to encounter one another while traversing the winding maze of The Way Between Worlds. Like any road, bandits and brigands stalk the less controlled areas waiting for unwitting travelers to stumble into their trap. Some small subdomains were established by local powers as rest stops and safe houses for weary travelers to take shelter in. But now, the travelers had left the path, hiding themselves in the nearest worlds. The bandits pretended not to notice it; their traps unsprung. The safe houses closed their shutters and barred their doors, preparing for the worst.

For there was a predator swimming in the river.

~~~

Lindon was relieved the journey had been relatively uneventful so far. There had been a small group of Silverlords that ducked into a nearby iteration when they felt the brush of his authority, but that wasn’t his assignment. He had a patrol to make. Dross had sent a message back to The Grave and Yerin had been around to take the call. Lindon almost pitied the poor, outgunned Silverlords. Almost.

The Abaddon had been slowly reclaiming the territory lost during the Great Vroshir Incursion (as some in the Court had begun calling it), but they had yet to fully establish control over any sectors further out than sector 70. Even after all The Reapers’ hard work cleansing worlds of corruption there was still so much to be done. World after world had been overrun by Fiends. Chaotic manifestations of un-reality that slowly devoured worlds until they broke apart completely. Lindon had seen it happen. It was the consequence of their failure. Of his failure.

[You know, I might not be actively listening to your every thought at the moment, but I can tell when you’re ruminating.]

Lindon flinched slightly at the reproach. Dross was right. Ethan had sent him on this assignment specifically so that he would have time to “get your head on right again” as the man had said with a sad and knowing smile. The combat had helped get his mind off of it at least. This far outside Abaddon jurisdiction Fiends and Vroshir were a common problem.

Common, but far from the only problem. Unaffiliated local powers had established their own minor fiefs in the power vacuum left by the Abaddon retreat and not all had been amenable to their return. Lindon preferred to persuade when he could. Some hesitated out of fear for their people. The Abaddon had already abandoned them once after all. Lindon understood and left them for others to reason with; Mercy was better at that sort of thing anyway. Others were more self-interested. To these he would offer recruitment if Dross thought they were worth something to The Court… or an ultimatum if not.

Only one had continued to resist when faced with Lindon’s Authority. Only one demonstration had been needed. Lindon was relieved about that as well. As much as he enjoyed the rush of battle, he never enjoyed picking on the weak. That wasn’t a good reason to let them run around hurting those even weaker than they were, however. It was a sad necessity but it didn’t help his mood.

[At least you’re doing something good right? That must count for something!]

It did count, at least in Lindon’s view, but the tender spot in his heart still didn’t fade. He tried to distract himself by saving those who couldn’t save themselves. It was half the reason he had ascended in the first place after all. And yet.

Lindon was still contemplating when The Way transitioned from an endless sea of textured blue to a dusty dirt road and he found himself walking slowly through untended and overgrown fields. In the distance loomed a great fortress wall that wouldn’t have looked out of place on Cradle.

Whoever lives here knows what they’re doing, Lindon thought.

[Aaaaaaand has enough Authority to not just create a cordon around their world but impose their domain over The Way!]

Lindon had seen Suriel use a similar technique before he had ascended beyond the world of his birth, though she had restricted herself to a simple hunting lodge.

Shall we see if anyone’s home?

[After you!]

Lindon thought he heard a slight sadistic glee in Dross’ mental voice.

[I can’t wait to see the look on their face.]

~~~

Feng Yi First Emperor of the Crimson Phoenix Empire was having a very bad day.

He had spent the better part of a decade engaged in battle against a massive demon horde. Though he had been certain of victory from the beginning, by the end the constant combat had started to weigh on him. But the horde had been vanquished and the demons beaten back once again. Feng Yi had just retired to his chambers for some well deserved rest when he felt a tug on his domain. This wasn’t anything unusual. One of his subordinates had something that required his attention. He delayed his response a bit for just a few more minutes of rest but the tug became more urgent and he was forced into action.

He manifested in a pillar of flame, heralded by the cry of a great phoenix, at the edge of his domain where the tug had originated. There he was greeted by the sight of Jian Mu and the rest of her Guardian Forest, trembling, on their knees, bowing before a slightly bemused looking man with a chalk white arm.

“Who dares intrude on the domain of the Crimson Phoenix Emperor?!” Feng Yi demanded.

He released his hold on his qi, letting it storm out of him like a great bonfire and the sky of his domain was tinged orange with the fury of the rising sun. The man stood there, unfazed, by The Emperor’s might. He pressed his fists together in some strange parody of a martial solute and bowed politely. The angle wasn’t quite as deep as The Emperor was used to but not shallow enough that he could call it rude.

“Greetings your majesty. This one is Wei Shi Lindon Arelius, a representative of The Court of Seven.” The man said with not a hint of mockery in his voice. “I have come on behalf of my superiors to offer you our protection against the foes at your walls.”

Feng Yi felt a slight hiss, like air escaping an imperfect seal, and a bit of this mans might was revealed to him.

The sky of his domain went from the bright, radiant, orange of a sunrise to pitch back in an instant. A Dao greater than any he had before felt pressed against his inner world with the inevitability of a mountain. This man could tear his domain apart like rice paper and there would be nothing Feng Yi could do to stop him.

As quickly as it had been opened, the seal was replaced. The pressure faded and the sky returned to its proper color. Emperor Feng Yi did not bow his head nor look away. He had long since determined that if he were to die he would look his end in the eye. Even so, he trembled. It had been a long time indeed since he had been so outclassed. Even the Great Demons that turned their eyes towards his home thought him too challenging to make a meal of and went to seek weaker prey. To this man he was a child before a tiger, and the man had never even risen from his bow.

“What-“ his voice failed him for the first time in millennia, “What would you have from us?”

Surely the man would want the power they kept, but what power did they have that could interest a being such as this?

“Only your assistance, your majesty.” The man said “The Court of Seven is attempting to reclaim the worlds that were lost to us so that we might protect the people who live there. Chaotic corruption claims worlds one after another and we would stand as your bulwark against them.”

The words were impossible, and yet the man spoke no lie. Feng Yi felt the man’s sincerity radiating out thought his intent. Truly, after so long, a savior had come. Feng Yi felt his millennia of exhaustion hit him all at once and he collapsed to his knees alongside his second in command.

“This Crimson Phoenix Empire and all the world pledges itself to The Court of Seven!” He said with relief. Maybe today wasn’t such a bad day after all.

The man cocked his head as though listening for something, then seemed to be struck with an idea.

“Excellent. I have relayed your pledge to my superiors. As I am simply a messenger I have no authority to entreat with you beyond this point. Another representative of the court will arrive at another time as our reach does not yet extend this far. This concludes our business on behalf of The Court.” The man said, though Feng Yi had been an emperor long enough to know that this wasn’t the end of things.

“If there is anything our Crimson Phoenix Empire can do to assist the Herald of The Heavens we will not hesitate to provide!” The Emperor declared.

“Well, it’s only a small matter, though you would have my gratitude.” The Herald said with a small smile.

~~~

Meimei and I were out walking the property line after the last big storm blew through. It wasn’t quite winter yet, but the north wind was making itself known. Some trees had fallen and damaged the fence in places so, with the harvest in and not much to do, we had decided to take a little stroll together. It was nice, just being able to spend an afternoon walking with my wife. Just another small joy of being a farmer in the middle of nowhere.

Defying the heavens: 0

Agriculture: 9,437

Still though, the work needed doing and Meimei and I made a great team. My wife was currently breaking down a fallen tree for firewood with her bare hands as I repaired the damage, infusing the fence with qi. When I had first built it I hadn’t nailed down qi infusion quite yet and it seemed like a big chore to replace it all at once, so I settled on working qi into my repairs instead. It’s not like anything was getting past Vajra anyways.

I was just having that thought when Meimei shot up straight, sniffing the air.

“Something big?” I asked, quirking an eyebrow at her.

“I’m not sure.” She said with concern, “It’s hard to pin down. It smells like… nothing.”

“How can ‘nothing’ have a smell?”

“I’m not sure. It just smells like… emptiness I suppose.”

You getting anything, shortstop? I mentally sent to Tianlan, my friend and benefactor.

Not much, but now that you mention it I’m feeling kind of uneasy, like there’s someone watching us. She replied, sounding nervous.

“Well, whatever it is, we’ll deal with it.” I said and both women nodded with resolve.

We continued working on the fence until dinner time, at which point we turned in for the day. Washy had taken to my tales of a “Pot Pie” with gusto and was eager to show us the fruits of his labor. Following a delicious meal and some time in good company another day in paradise came to an end as I closed my eyes.

Before I immediately opened them again to an annoyed looking Tianlan.

“Still buggin’ ya eh pipsqueak?” I said, receiving a smirk at my accent, before the short girl with golden cracks running over her skin sighed.

“I just can’t stop feeling like there’s something watching me!” She replied with a frown.

“Well, how about we take a look around?”

Tianlan’s look said ‘Like I haven’t already tried that, dumbass’ but eventually she sighed and nodded. So off we set, walking the edges of her domain. The boundaries looked really similar to the Mist Wall I had seen in the crystal. I should probably ask about that, but how am I supposed to tell one giant wall of mist from another? Maybe this was a completely different kind of wall that just so happened to also be made of mist! Then I would have brought up a sore subject for no reason and-

I was knocked out of my musings by a forehead cracking into my own.

“Hey! What was that for?” I muttered rubbing my poor skull, before turning to my friend.

Tianlan was glaring at a point in the mist wall. There was something though there. Maybe? It did look a bit darker now that I was paying attention. Regardless, Tianlan looked nervous so, doing my best impression of a royal guard, I propped my shovel on my shoulder and marched straight up to the wall before planting my feet, squaring my shoulders, and puffing out my chest.

“Hold trespasser!” I cried in my best attempt at Big D’s low voice, “Who dares violate the grounds of sacred Fa Ram!

That got a giggle out of the cracked girl, releasing a bit of tension. I hadn’t actually been trying to get a response!

“Oh? Apologies for my intrusion. I had hoped to remain hidden a bit longer to learn of this place before I introduced myself.” Another voice replied from out in the mist. It sounded genuinely apologetic. And the formal diction reminded me just a bit of Brother Lu Ri.

Something began to coalesce out of the darkened mist as it slowly got closer. A man walked towards us. Could that even happen? Wasn’t this some kind of extra dimensional space inside Tianlan? Yet there he was! Stood just inside the mist, seeming to hesitate to cross over the boundary.

Tianlan seemed to be stuck between launching herself at him and fleeing in terror, so I decided I should take over introductions.

“We don’t get many outsiders around here!” I said to the guy.

I thought I caught a muttered “ever” from Tianlan but I couldn’t be sure. The stranger didn’t seem to notice at any rate.

“Ah, once again I apologize,” the man said “I haven’t manifested myself fully in your world yet as our records of this place are several thousand years out of date it would seem. I wanted to know more about your culture before I came down and accidentally made a mess of things.”

That was… a surprisingly reasonable explanation given the circumstances.

[Don’t let him fool you. He’s been delaying our decent for days to conduct ‘research’ as if this place isn’t almost exactly like where he came from.]

The voice had spoken directly into my brain. A lot like Tianlan did. It was really strange hearing a new voice in my head but I wouldn’t say it was shocking. Tianlan on the other hand looked incensed.

“Hey asshole! Who said you could fish around in his head!?” she shouted, marching towards the mist.

[Hey! Don’t compare me to human anatomy! They’re gross and full of fluids!] another voice replied, matching her tone for tone, as a small purple ball manifested itself over the man’s shoulder. It glared it’s singular eye at Tianlan and put small tentacle arms to what I could only assume were it’s hips.

The two devolved quickly into quibbling as the mysterious stranger and I gave each other an identical look of apology.

“Can I get you some breakfast?”

~~~

After Shen Yu, the others on the farm didn’t really seem phased when a strange man with black eyes and a white arm appeared in a flash of blue in the middle of our lawn. They looked at me and when I didn’t seem worried most shrugged and went back to their business.

“One more place for breakfast today Wa Shi!” I called to the dragon preparing breakfast in our kitchen.

You got it, Boss! The dragon replied, adding a few more eggs to his pan.

I walked towards the front of the house to greet the man standing politely at the edge of the veranda.

“Apologies again for my intrusion. My name is Wei Shi Lindon Arelius, though most just call me Lindon.” The man, Lindon, said with a bow. Now that I got a good look at him, we weren’t dissimilar, large build, broad shoulders, and dark shaggy hair. Though, where I looked like a well-muscled farm hand he looked much more… cultivator. Flawless skin, perfect posture, and an otherworldly presence that most cultivators had, like they could see your soul laid bare. That feeling was bunk most of the time, in my experience.

“No apologies needed, friend. Name's Rou Jin.” I replied, “You’re… not from around here, huh?”

Lindon gave me a strange look at that.

“No. I’m from… very far away.”

I tapped my nose and gave him what I hoped was a knowing smile.

“Me to.” I said with a wink, “Now, come in! Wa Shi should be about done with breakfast. You can eat a bit and tell us tales from ‘very far away."

Poor Lindon seemed a bit baffled as he let me usher him into my home.

Better luck next time, my hospitality jutsu is too powerful!

___________

Finally (cursedly) caught up with Beware of Chicken. I will channel my frustrations into making my blorbos talk to each other. This is my first shot at something more long form, hope it doesn't suck!

#beware of chicken #cradle series #xianxia #fanfic #wei shi lindon arelius #Rou Jin #Behold! My fanfic dao gains strength by the day! Surely with this power I shall defy the heavens!

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scarabsinthestardust · 3 days ago

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Tender // Ch. 5

MASTERLIST

word count: 3200+

I'm so sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out, friends. I came back from vacation sick and had a lot of catching up to do. But here we are, and chapter 6 is already almost done, too. Things are getting intense, and I am again apologizing for what's to come.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: child abuse; religious violence; burns; depression; anxiety; paranoia; unspecified undiagnosed mental illness; language; alcoholism; intoxication; jealousy; suicidal ideations; drunk driving; verbal argument; physical violence; domestic abuse; blood; mentions of hospitals, stitches, shots, and medication; manipulation; toxic behavior; stalking behavior (if I missed anything, let me know)

There was no rhyme or reason for what they’d done to him. They could probably justify their actions in their own deluded minds, but to anyone on the outside, it was barbaric and cruel. When the boy asked why, his voice raw from screaming, they only told him it was God’s will, whatever that meant.

The boy is 13 now. He’d read the Bible, and he didn’t recall anything about this. Of course, he fought against the pain. Who could be expected to sit quietly and obediently when there is red hot metal being pushed against their flesh? His mother chose the spot of a small birthmark above his right hip. The offending spot, a mark of the Devil, needed to be cleansed. The pain would eventually fade, a jagged scar in its place, but you don’t ever forget the smell of burning flesh, especially your own.

I was 16 when I left that place. I had nowhere to go and no plan, but I’m smart enough to know how to survive. I managed to save up whatever money I could scrape up and worked as hard as I could until I was able to land steadily on my own feet. I pulled myself up from the ground and rarely asked anyone for help. I refused to rely on anyone. People can’t be trusted, and I’m the perfect example.

I thought that being with Josh would be the remedy I needed to fix myself, that he would be the one to pull me out of the water and back onto solid ground. But I never should have put that on him. It was never his responsibility, but now I’m finding that it’s easier to blame him for my slip-ups than admitting that I have a problem.

The band isn’t due to go back on tour for quite some time, but they’re in the process of writing and recording new music, which requires a lot of time spent at the studio. I know they’re working so hard, and I should be proud of him, but the longer this takes, the further he slips away. He spends all day with his brothers and returns home late and too exhausted to do much of anything other than sleep.

I can tell our last fight (if I can really call it that) still weighs heavily on him. He doesn’t talk as much, which I thought would be relieving, but instead it only makes him seem more distant, and it hurts. He doesn’t ask me many questions anymore, and he’s hesitant to try and make plans. I curse myself for creating that dark cloud of unsurety that hovers over him.

I fell off the wagon in Wichita, and I haven’t gotten back on it. Some days are more difficult than others. Josh tries to keep me afloat as best he can. He’s done what he can to keep me away from any alcohol, and he’s even dropped me off at a couple of AA meetings to make sure I go. But it’s not like there’s a step-by-step manual on how to make sure your boyfriend doesn’t decide to be a piece of shit today.

I’m assigned to a job that’s supposed to keep me out of town for a few days, but some changes in plans have me returning home a day early. I try to call Josh on my way back, but I only get his voicemail. He doesn’t call me back, but eventually sends a text. “Sorry I missed your call. I’m out with the guys, so I’ll be out late. I’ll see you when I get home.” The little heart emoji at the end makes me scoff. ‘Out with the guys.’ He’s at the bar with his brothers, and there’s no telling what he’s getting up to.

I don’t know why I’m finding it so hard to trust him these days. I want to believe that he wouldn’t lie to me, wouldn’t allow himself to be whisked away by some other man, but then I remember that I’m beneath him, and he’s weak. I imagine it wouldn’t take much, that he’d give in to the first handsome man that spares him a sultry glance.

I don’t go home, and I don’t go to his house. Not yet. I’m tired from the drive and my mind is muddled with made-up scenarios that send me into a spiral. I wonder if I can will some kind of tragedy into existence, something to take me out of my misery – a car accident, a gunshot from a robbery gone bad, anything. It would be so easy to lie down on the nearest train tracks and wait it out or take a flying leap off of the top floor of a parking garage, but in the end, I’m too much of a coward to do it myself.

I don’t hesitate to go inside the store and buy the liquor. I park in an empty lot; the fact that it’s in walking distance of Josh’s favorite bar may or may not have been intentional. I don’t have any second thoughts before I crack open the first bottle.

The more I drink, the more my fear and sorrow turn to hate. I’m angry. I’m angry with myself for not having the strength to control my urges. I’m angry with Josh… for what? For having a social life? For wanting to spend time with his brothers at a place I can’t go? That’s stupid. He’s not a child. But I need him more than I’ve ever needed anyone. We’ve been apart so much recently. Maybe he just needs a reminder of who I belong to, who he belongs to.

I can’t find my keys; I probably dropped them between the seats. It’s for the best, really. The liquor has fogged my brain and made me clumsy, but at least I can stay upright. I barely stumble down the sidewalk until I reach my destination. The doorman eyes me warily, but one of the benefits of being a raging alcoholic is you get better at hiding it.

It doesn’t take me long to spot Jake, Sam, and Danny at a table inside. But where’s Josh? I scan the dimly lit room until I find him. He’s leaning up against the bar talking to someone I don’t recognize. He laughs at whatever the man says to him, his cheek red – from alcohol or is he blushing? The man leans in, too close for my comfort, and touches Josh’s shoulder. Heat rises up in me and my skin is tingling. My vision tunnels until Josh is the only thing I can see.

I rush towards him, miraculously without bumping into too many innocent bystanders, and force myself between him and the unsuspecting stranger. The man takes a step back and shoots Josh a concerned look.

“Finn, what the hell are you doing here?” His eyes are wide and panicked, like he just got caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to.

“You first,” I spit, my tone venomous.

“What are you even… shit, you’re drunk.” He lets out a frustrated sigh. “Jesus Christ, c’mon.”

I glare at the stranger once more before Josh drags me outside. Jake seems to have noticed and is hot on our tails. “Josh, you okay?” Jake doesn’t trust me, and he doesn’t make any attempt to hide it. He hasn’t been fond of me since day one. His presence and desire to be in Josh’s business fuels the fire, and I’m about to start in on him, but Josh is here to play peacekeeper.

“We’re good. Can you just, uh, give us a minute?”

I know the last thing Jake wants to do is leave his twin out here alone with me. I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t feel safe with me either. But at Josh’s pleading eyes, he relents, reluctantly retreating inside.

Josh turns to me, chewing on his bottom lip. Much like someone trying to calm a frightened animal, he approaches me slowly and carefully, his voice low. “Finn, baby, let me take you home.”

“Why, so you can come back here to that asshole?”

“What? Who are you talking about?”

“You know who I’m fuckin’ talking about. Were you gonna take him home? Were you gonna fuck him?” His feigned cluelessness is just fanning the flames. “Would he have been in your bed tonight if I didn’t come back early?”

“No, I wasn’t… the guy I was talking to in there? He’s just a friend, Finn. I wouldn’t-“

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” I close the distance between us. I’m so close and so much taller than him that he cranes his neck to maintain eye contact. He’s annoyed, tiptoeing into angry. He’s upset that I’m making these accusations. He pities me for being broken. But he isn’t afraid, and he very much should be.

The thing about alcoholism, in most cases, is that it brings out the worst in people. They do things they would never do sober. They hurt people in ways they would never think to do if they weren’t under the influence. They lose all sense of impulse control. The only thing that matters is what they’re feeling in those moments, the urges to act out on whatever terrible thoughts they’re having at the time. For me, it’s like I’m watching it happen to someone else. My self-awareness is clouded and I feel almost as if I’m just an observer, watching someone that looks oddly similar to me make the biggest mistakes of his life.

I expect a fiery argument from him, but if he’s mad, he pushes it down. “You don’t mean that. You’re drunk. You wouldn’t be saying these things if you weren’t.” He’s trying to diffuse a bomb and he’s about to cut the wrong wire. “Please, baby, let’s go home. You can sleep it off and we can talk in the morning.” His hands move to my face, and he looks up at me tearfully.

He thinks he can calm me down with his sweetness, sprinkle me with soft gestures to quell my anger. But it’s a façade. I know what he’s doing. He’s trying to manipulate it, to make me think I’m delusional, that I imagined everything. He’ll blame it on the alcohol in me instead of just admitting that he was the one acting like a whore.

I wrench away from his hands and my own come up. They meet his chest, and I shove him away so violently that he slams into the brick wall behind him with an audible thud. I hear him cry out, but it doesn’t register in my mind what I’ve done until I see blood. Blood? Wait, why is there blood?

“Josh, fuck, are you okay?” I try to go to him, but he sidesteps me.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” He’s got his hand pressed tightly on the back of his upper left arm. There’s blood seeping between his fingers and down his arm, staining his clothes. I notice something I didn’t see at first – a small piece of metal rebar that’s sticking out from the wall and is now coated in Josh’s blood.

“Baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” The remorse I’m feeling isn’t false, and I don’t have to force the tears that are threatening to spill from my eyes. What have I done? I never meant for this to happen, for him to get hurt like this. “Please, let me see it. Let me help.” I try to go to him again, but he doesn’t want me near him.

“Get the fuck away from me!” His words sting, and the look in his eyes tells me he means it.

I’m frozen as I try to figure out what to do, and I watch him try to control the bleeding on his own. He can’t really see the wound, but he knows it’s bad. “Josh, you need to go to the hospital,” I say, keeping my voice down.

“No fucking shit, Sherlock.” He looks toward the entrance to the bar, probably considering going in to get Jake. But he glances back at me and something flashes across his face that I can’t explain. Worry? He starts to speak again but decides against it, before walking in the opposite direction. He’s not really going to drive himself there? I offer to take him but he shuts me down. “Like I would let you drive me anywhere right now. Actually,” he starts, turning to me. “Give me your keys.”

I shrug. “I don’t know where they are.” Is he asking because he’s actually still concerned about me, or because he’s trying to prevent me from driving off and fucking up someone else’s life?

He huffs. “Whatever. Go home,” he orders. He’s livid, and rightly so, but there’s something else painted across his face – pain, betrayal, and sadness.

I think I’m going to vomit. My legs are numb; I’m unable to move them and I can do nothing as he walks away from me.

I should have left. I shouldn’t have found my keys and gotten back behind the wheel. I shouldn’t have driven to Josh’s house, still drunk. I shouldn’t have let myself in with the spare hidden key. I shouldn’t have decided to wait for him, to try to salvage what’s left of a relationship I know is already in tatters.

It’s probably three or four hours before I hear the lock click on the front door. I watch him as he enters and shuts the door behind him. He doesn’t seem surprised to see me, but he makes no move to come any closer.

“I told you to go home.” He won’t meet my eyes and he looks so drained of energy. His left arm is wrapped up with white bandages, midway between his elbow and shoulder. He’s got a bag in his hand that looks like prescription medication and his bloodstained jacket draped over his arm.

“You are my home.” It’s the first thing that comes to mind and it’s pathetic, but it’s the truth. At least, it feels like it. “Are you okay?”

He scoffs. “I have five stitches and had to get a tetanus shot.” He holds the medicine bag up. “And antibiotics for ten days so it doesn’t get infected.”

“Josh, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to… for you to get hurt.”

He tosses the medicine on the coffee table and sighs as he drops onto the couch. He sits as far from me as he can. “Finn… I want to help you, but if… if it’s gonna be like this… I don’t know if I want you here with me right now.”

“It’s not, I promise. I just got carried away. I wasn’t thinking. You know I would never hurt you on purpose. I’ll be more careful. It won’t happen again.”

His jaw tenses and I can see he’s thinking about what to say, what kind of decision he’s going to make. He’s dejected, like he doesn’t have any fight left in him. Maybe that’s not such a bad thing. But he doesn’t trust me. And if he doesn’t trust me, he won’t forgive me. Time to pull out all the stops.

I’m not faking it, not really. I do feel remorseful for what I did, and I’ll admit that I’m the one that messed up. Alcohol makes me paranoid, and now that I’m sobering up, I realize that Josh didn’t do anything wrong. It isn’t his fault that he’s too weak to tell people no. If anything, I should have taken it out on the asshole that had the audacity to touch him. But I am ashamed of how I acted, and I need to make him understand that. And if that requires me to beg, I’ll do it.

I give in and let the tears flow freely; it helps feed the pity I’m trying to draw from him. I know I’m just being selfish. I’m doing this for me, despite knowing this is not what he really needs. What he should do is put as much distance as he can between us. I’m not confident that I can keep him safe. But I’ve already started the game, and I have to finish it.

When I grab his hand, he makes a small effort to pull away, but I tighten my grip. Don’t let go. “Baby, please don’t push me away. I made a mistake, but you’re the one who said it was okay to make mistakes, right? I’m trying, Josh, I really am. I’m trying to be better, but I can’t do it alone. I need you.” That’s it. That’s the icing on the cake. That’s how I get to him. Josh is a lover, it’s in his blood. He loves being needed, getting the opportunity to help people, and he won’t say no. “If you shut me out now… I don’t have anyone else. You’re it for me. I can’t do this without you.”

He's fighting with himself, I can see it in his eyes, but I can also see that I’ve won. He still loves me, and he won’t just walk away from that. Even better, if he thinks he can fix me, he’s going to try, even if he takes all the damage in the process.

“What do you need me to do?”

I don’t have a real answer for him. He knows I won’t go to rehab – it’s too similar to a hospital. The AA meetings only do so much. Plus, I’m getting to the point where it annoys me, sitting there listening to all those idiots and their fucking sob stories. I don’t give a shit about them. I never did. Then they start bringing ‘God’ and ‘faith’ into it, and I realize they’re all just sheep, blindly following a fictional idea of God – or maybe just a god that doesn’t care about them either.

Josh’s big brown eyes are watching me closely, maybe trying to decide if he’s the one making the mistake. I certainly won’t be the one to tell him he definitely is.

I beg for him to just let me stay with him, and he concedes. I try to be gentle with him; I don’t think he can handle anymore heaviness tonight. I make him eat so he can start his antibiotics, and I’m extra careful of his arm as we lie down. Again, I don’t really sleep, but he crashes hard, the day finally catching up to him. And I do something that I know is another mistake, something that is guaranteed to cause problems later, but I justify it as my way of protecting him.

When I’m sure he’s fast asleep, I unlock his phone, download one of the many tracking apps that are freely available, and link it to my phone. I disable all notifications and hide the icon in some folder I know he never uses, one of those where you keep all the software apps you can’t delete.

There’s no doubt in my mind that it’s wrong. It’s disrespectful, a violation of privacy, an act that solidifies how much I don’t trust him. It’s controlling, manipulative, and just overall creepy. I would have been livid if he had done it to me. But the deed is done, and I’ll tell myself whatever I need to, to not feel guilty for this. I’m doing it for him. I’m doing it for his safety, to keep him out of trouble when I’m not here. He needs someone to do it, and who better than someone that loves him? He needs me, and I’d do anything for him.

///

TAGLIST (let me know if you want to be added!)

@hollyco @fleetingjake @musicislove3389 @hailthegodsong @josh-iamyour-mama @katuschka @lilbitx

#greta van fleet #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet fan fiction #gvf #gvf fanfiction #jake gvf #josh gvf #josh kiszka #jake kiszka

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comicarc · 7 months ago

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𝐖𝐞'𝐥𝐥 𝐆𝐨 𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

"We'll get in your car and you'll lean to kiss me, we'll talk for hours and lie on the backseat." Part 2

wc: 1434

01:00 AM

“If love can fade, so can pain.”

I saw it in a book once, but I always thought it was a load of bullshit. And today, as I drown in drinks, cleansing my internal scars with the bitter taste of alcohol, I am reminded of how misleading that simple statement was. It wasn’t my first relationship, nor would it be my last. There was nothing special enough to reminisce, rather it was regret that brought about my melancholy. I was always left heartbroken by the fact that I wasn’t enough. They would always cheat, lie, or simply ghost me, no matter how much effort I put into the relationship. And so, I am left alone each time, questioning who was the real problem. With each sip of my drink, I regret the insignificant mistakes I made throughout the experience as if that would have made any difference in the outcome.

Drunk beyond my limit, I stumble out of the bar, having had enough of my reminiscing. Pushing through the crowd of young bachelors looking to find their next ‘victim’, I lose my footing. Instead of my falling, I’m held up by muscular arms snaked around my waist. The giant forearms bulged as they moved to pull me into a chest, embracing me. I try to turn around to catch a glimpse of my savior, but he keeps my head straight and leads me out of the bar, shielding me from the room of desperate men surrounding us. When we reach the cobblestone sidewalk at the bar's entrance, I can finally spin around.

My curious eyes are met with azure ones, somewhat covered by strands of black curly hair. Contrasting his chiseled face and sharp jaw he maintained a warm and soft expression. His eyebrows arched in a manner that conveyed more sympathy than pity. More admiration than judgment. More kindness than obligation. We held eye contact for what felt like hours. I was lost in the ocean that formed with the reflection of nearby lights on his cornea. Finally, he broke the silence with an introduction.

“I’m Jason. Nice to meet you.” His voice was just like his face: rough and attractive.

“I’m y/n.” I slurred.

“So y/n…you need a ride home?”

I was too drunk to make a coherent sentence, much less form a rational thought. Therefore, in my desperation, I immediately agreed. If I was going to get kidnapped, it might as well be because of a handsome man.

Contradictory to my expectations, Jason was very gentlemanly. He kept me close in his grasp as we walked to his car, but never touched me anywhere other than my waist. As he seated me and headed to sit in the driver’s seat beside me, I rapidly blinked, trying to keep my eyes open. His voice soon faded in the background and before I knew it, everything went black.

05:30 AM

I groggily woke up, rubbing my eyes to see darkness surrounding me. I’m lying in a car seat with a blanket draped over me and a satin pillow cushioning my heavy head. Looking in front of me I see Jason sleeping with nothing to keep him warm and using his jacket as a makeshift pillow. Admiring his sleeping form, I don’t question his situation. There could have been millions of reasons why he kept a pillow and a blanket in his car. Who was I to judge? It wasn’t as if my living situation wasn’t any better. After all, I was homeless. Kicked out of my ex’s apartment last night after we broke apart.

I reach the phone in my back pocket and click the power button to check the time: 5:37 a.m. As I briefly check my inbox for any notifications, I hear a yawn beside me. Jason had finally awoken and was staring at me. Not in a creepy, lustful way, but rather in a more affectionate, almost loving manner.

He questioned, “So, how’d you end up shitfaced last night.”

He was someone who I may never see again, so I quite confidently muttered, “My ex.”

“Man, he must’ve been blind to have lost a catch like you.”

I chuckled at the compliment. It had been forever since I heard niceties being uttered from my former love, so it was no surprise that my heart fluttered. “How about you? Your girlfriend dump you too?”

It seemed he had the same idea, as he confessed, “I’m practically dead to everyone I know and I’m just frustrated that I didn’t realize how little they cared for me earlier.”

Gently rubbing his shoulder, y/n comforted, “I don’t know you or them, but from my experience, maybe give them a chance at redemption?”

“Experience?”

“It’s not my first time in that bar and it sure as hell won’t be the last.”

This time he let out a hearty laugh and I joined along. When we began to calm down, the pure ecstasy that coursed through my body urged me to lean forward. I was inches away from his face when he realized my intention. In mere seconds, he gently grabbed my hair to pull me closer, passionately kissing me. His touch felt so fresh and welcoming. Better than any of my exes’. I moved my hands to match his rhythm, embracing his husky exterior and feeling his muscular biceps. My eyes were closed and my mind alight, hoping that this kiss might lead to something more.

A week later – 03:00 AM

Ever since our chance encounter, Jason and I have texted religiously. Usually, I called it a night by midnight, but tonight was different. Jason had told me he was headed to make amends with his family in an ‘unconventional’ way, whatever that meant, so I was helping him work out all his frustration before the meeting. With a few final words of encouragement and reassuring messages, I headed to bed.

I slept like a baby for about three hours before being awoken by a loud thud in my living room. Startled, I jump out of bed and rush out. In the dimly lit room, I see a man in cargo pants and a leather jacket with a red mask, splayed across the floor in a pool of his blood. I was left motionless as I tried to understand the peculiar situation. When I patch him up, I’ll get all the answers I need. With this thought, I rush over to my medicine cabinet, grab the first aid kit, and position myself at the man’s side.

After I stitched and sewed the gaping wounds on his chest, I brought my attention to his masked face. Slowly, I attempted to remove his chipped helmet but was stopped when his hand grabbed my wrist. Immediately, I let go of the mask and strained to free myself from his grip. It seemed my struggle had fully woken him, as he sat up, pulled me closer, and whispered, “Don’t touch the mask.” The rasp in his voice gave away the menacing tone he was trying to convey, and despite his warning, I continued to take off his mask.

Shock wouldn’t even begin to describe how I felt. The man I had partially patched up was the very man who I harbored feelings for. From the night we met, I felt nothing but lust and sympathy for him but now…

“Jason?” I asked, my mouth slightly agape as I tried to process all the information I had gathered.

“Y/n, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I-”

“Sorry? If you died where would I be, crying over your dead body? You’re the Red Hood goddammit. You didn’t think to warn me before you got close to me?”

“I never meant for you to know. Or at least to find out like this.”

“Then what? Were you expecting me to be another one of your victims?”

“What the hell?”

“ I’ve seen the news. Those stories of all the people you’ve killed, innocent or otherwise.”

“No! No, I would never do that to you. I…”

“You care for me? Is that it?”

“Yes.”

“Did you care for me enough to consider how I would feel?”

“Of course.”

“Then…did you love me?”

His silence was answer enough. I let out a chuckle as tears uncontrollably rolled down my cheek. “It’s pathetic really, how much I still hope it's you and me in the end.” My vision blurs and when I blink, he’s gone. Without even a goodbye. I’m alone again and left to pick up the pieces.

It’s like deja vu.

#dc comics #batfam #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd #angst #red hood #red hood x reader

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enigmaticexplorer · 11 months ago

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I Yearn, and so I Fear - Chapter II

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers.

Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC

General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.

Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.

Chapter Word Count. 4.7K

17 Telona

Kazi was a creature of routine.

She preferred tidiness and organization, as demonstrated by her clean house and minimalistic interior design. Everything had its place. And clutter was quickly alleviated. If it wasn’t useful, then it was donated.

After her father’s death, she became hyper-focused on intensive scheduling. The galaxy was chaotic and unpredictable. Routine guaranteed a sense of security and allowed her to feel in control.

Early morning—the gray of nautical twilight just giving way to the pinks of sunrise—was her time.

She preferred the quiet, the solitude.

A swim in the lake down the hill, her strokes repetitive.

A brisk walk back to the house, the dewy climate of Eluca’s jungles and the chilled scent of an earthy breeze relaxing.

A quick shower to cleanse herself.

A bowl of porridge decorated with chunks of lumina berries and a drizzle of honey.

Breakfast completed, her solitude lasted an hour, soon interrupted by a sleepy Neyti and a busy Daria. The morning routine took a turn as Kazi focused on Neyti. Breakfast eaten, teeth brushed, school uniform donned. A short drive to the school and then onto work in Eluca’s capital city, Canopis.

Daria, sometimes with the aid of Healer Natasha, retrieved Neyti from school in the afternoon. Kazi returned to the house in the late evening, ate dinner, and then started her analytical work for the rebel network, spending time with Neyti as the youngling completed her schoolwork or watched a film. Her day didn’t allow for unscheduled interruptions.

So it had gone since their arrival on Eluca.

Hair still wet from her shower, Kazi stood at the kitchen counter slicing strips of a lumina berry. The berries—ovular shaped and larger than her hand—were a random buy at the marketplace, but when she realized Neyti enjoyed them, they became a staple in the household.

The dark purple fuzz of the shell tickled her palm. She placed the tip of her knife at the center of the berry, sliding it around until it fell into a nearly imperceptible crack. With a smug smile, she slid the knife down and—

The bookcase in the entryway swung open.

Kazi startled, her hand twitching and the knife jerking. It sliced open her palm.

“Fuck,” she hissed. Setting aside both fruit and knife in favor of running her hand under the sink’s spout, she assessed the cut.

Luckily, it was small and shallow, and it wouldn’t require stitches. And even if it did, Kazi knew herself well enough to admit she would ignore the problem indefinitely. She would have to be forced and drugged to get stitches. She shivered at the thought.

It was her involuntary reaction that reminded her of the moving bookcase. Shoulders stiffening and stomach clenching, Kazi turned off the sink, pressed a cloth to her still-bleeding palm, and lifted her head.

One of the clones, the one with the cybernetic eye—Commander Wolffe—stood on the opposite side of the bar. He was dressed in simple clothes: a white work shirt, brown trousers, and a dark belt. His hair—faded on the sides and longer on top—was slicked back with water. He must have taken a shower. At least the amenities in the basement still worked.

The commander scanned his surroundings, his eyes lingering on the dragon figurine on the bookcase.

Scales polished a lightless black, as impenetrable as a black hole, the dragon was as long as Kazi’s hand. It was poised in the midst of flight, mirroring the flight pattern of the female dragon from her favorite constellation and legend: the Dancing Dragons.

The sole difference between her carving and the female dragon was the color. Black versus silver-blue. Kazi’s dragon had been carved from a burnt tree in Ceaia’s most sacred land, the resting place of the last dragon.

The figurine used to stand on her nightstand. Gifted by her father when she was five years old, per Traditionalist custom, the dragon was her guardian. Her protector. It was one of the few pieces of her old life she still kept. Symbolic of the little girl she used to be. The little girl she couldn’t entirely cut out.

Kazi shook away the memory and refocused on the clone.

Silence expanded between them, tense and heavy. Tightly wrung with mutual observation and calculation both she and Commander Wolffe were partaking in as they eyed one another.

In the spirit of cohabitation—forced cohabitation—Kazi cleared her throat. The man across the counter stilled. Except she didn’t have anything to say to him. Maybe a morning greeting would suffice.

But she didn’t think she owed him that. He was in her house interrupting her morning routine, after all.

“My sister and Neyti will be down sometime soon to eat breakfast,” Kazi informed him. Setting aside the now bloodied rag, she returned to the lumina berry. The shell split open with ease. “Neyti and I leave at 07:30. Daria typically spends the day in town, so you’ll have the house to yourselves until 16:45, or 17:00.” And because her nerves were still rattled by his presence, and because she couldn’t help herself, she added, “Be sure to tidy up after yourselves up here. We prefer cleanliness.”

With that, she walked around the bar, keeping close to the cool metal to avoid nearing the commander, and approached the couch and the flatscreen. A flip of a switch and the flatscreen displayed the local news channel.

“The problem of terrorists attacking our workplaces, our places of trade, our homes cannot be taken lightly,” a female voice relayed from the screen. Kazi pursed her lips as she returned to the kitchen. “I am dedicated to protecting the people in Veridian Sector, and by extension, the people of our Empire.”

The voice belonged to Moff Harpy of Veridian Sector. A kindly appearance hid the woman’s vindictive nature. Supporting Imperial nationalization of local businesses, Moff Harpy earned herself a negative reputation among Eluca’s locals. She was greedy and willing to funnel money from obsolete planets, like Eluca, into the industrial, money-making planets of Veridian Sector.

Since the end of the war, Veridian Sector had grown into an important military stronghold. Its location along a prominent hyperspace route and its general submission to Imperial whims made it ideal for Imperial military and security operations. And, as such, most of its planets hosted new military bases. To aid the Empire in its conquest of the ‘uncivilized and rebellious’ Outer Rim.

“Has terrorism been a problem here?”

The question caught her off guard and Kazi looked up from the porridge she was heating on the stove. The commander sat in a stool at the bar. He was reading through a file on his datapad and when he noticed her attention, he shut it off.

“I wouldn’t call it terrorism,” she said, meeting his gaze. His expression was unreadable, hard and seemingly apathetic. Bored, yet hinting intrigue.

The expressionless mask shifted as he rolled his eyes. “Unlawful use of violence against civilians is terrorism.”

“That may be so”—she stirred her porridge—“but what about the unlawful use of violence by the government against civilians. Is that considered terrorism as well?” Her question was rhetorical so she pressed on. “There have been small pockets of rebellion in this sector, just as there have been in most Outer Rim sectors ever since the Empire arrived.”

They lapsed into silence.

Kazi listened to the updates from the HoloNet, occasionally glancing over her shoulder to watch the screen whenever the news was appallingly glamoured in propaganda. The reporters shifted their attention back to the question of “terrorism” and the recent imprisonment of terrorists on the planet Geonosis.

“These rebels”—Commander Wolffe said the word as if it offended him—“are idiots if they think they can take on the Empire.”

Kazi frowned at the condescension in his tone. She may have held similar cynical beliefs—rebellion against the omnipotent Empire was inevitably futile and would likely lead to mass deaths across the galaxy—but she didn’t care for the former commander’s ridicule.

There were good people out there. People like Lore and Sparks, and even Fehr, who were dedicated to helping others: food relief, chain code provisions, displaced persons’ relocation. Kazi may have lacked the optimism in hoping for the Empire’s end. But she did believe in helping others.

“They’re people who believe in something bigger and better.” She noted the barely masked scorn in the commander’s gaze while he listened to her. “I don’t see why their personal decisions matter so much to you.”

“They don’t.” He tapped two fingers against the bar.

Even sitting his stature and size were imposing. Intimidating. He could easily overpower her if he wanted, and that thought unnerved her.

“They have to realize fighting against the Empire is a waste of resources,” Commander Wolffe interrupted the silence once more. Kazi gripped her spoon harder. “And for what? To restore the Republic? It’s an unattainable goal.”

“Maybe to you.”

“Don’t tell me you believe their agenda.”

Her hesitation to answer earned her a smug look from the commander. It put her on the defensive.

“What about you?” she demanded. “You’re trying to rescue current soldiers of the Empire. That’s an incredibly futile mission.” The commander stiffened and she silently congratulated herself for hitting a nerve. “The rebels may be optimistic, but they’re actually doing something instead of hiding.”

“The rebels’ actions aren’t doing anything helpful. You can argue their actions are working to the contrary. Blowing up government buildings with innocent civilians in them will anger the Empire. It’ll react harsher. And crueler.”

“Those were guerrillas. The rebel network isn’t—”

“What has your network done? Anything of value?”

“The Empire has been in control for little more than a year.” Defensiveness coiled in her muscles and it took effort to keep her tone composed. “Rebellion takes time. Time to plan. To organize. To strategize. The network is gathering resources and intel in order to prepare for well-timed targets. I would expect a commander to know that.”

“Not everyone has time.” Commander Wolffe leaned forward. “My brothers and I are doing something. We’re rescuing soldiers. Getting them out and somewhere safe. Right now. The rebel groups—network, Partisan Front, whatever you want to call them—haven’t done anything beneficial.”

“I find it hypocritical that you’re scorning the rebels while working with them.”

He scoffed. “We’re not working together.”

Kazi frowned. It was her understanding that the three commanders were working with the network. Now that she thought about it, though, Fehr never mentioned a network-clone collaboration. The older woman merely stated she knew the men through a mutual contact.

Suspicion spiked in her chest, like a blowfish the moment it sensed danger. Kazi knew nothing about these clones—their mission could be a lie, a façade for something else.

“We have a similar dislike of the Empire,” Commander Wolffe said, his eyes narrowing at her blatant stare. “That’s it. I won’t waste my time on unrealistic ideologies and impractical strategies that will fail.”

“The rebels’ ideology may be flawed, but it’s hope that dictates their actions. Hope that the galaxy can be better.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “People need that hope—they need something to believe in—because without it, they won’t be invested in the movement.”

He cocked his head to the side, mistrust palpable in his quick assessment of her body. “What are you doing for the movement?”

“I collect data and analyze it.”

“What type of data?”

“Data concerning Veridian Sector.”

Commander Wolffe sat back in his seat, a satisfied expression on his face. “Your data isn’t significant.”

Kazi gritted her teeth. The data she stole from her government job was minimal, and it wasn’t significant to the galaxy at large. However, it kept the network informed of Imperial movements within the Sector, as well as the occasional intelligence that helped precarious situations elsewhere.

Her intel analyses served one purpose: to warn the network of alarming Imperial decisions.

Kazi didn’t appreciate the smug look on the commander’s face, and she didn’t appreciate his blatant dismissal of the rebel network’s work—dismissal of her work—even if she agreed with him.

“It’s better to analyze insignificant data than to abet the Empire. Remind me, you were a soldier, right?” She smiled at the clench in his jaw. “We have people like you to thank for standing by and allowing the Empire to overthrow the Republic.”

The commander straightened in his seat, lips pressing in a firm line. Kazi maintained eye contact. But she could feel the tension emanating from him. Tension and rage.

The silence lasted a full minute before Commander Wolffe tapped his fingers against the bar, rolling his shoulders back.

“ ‘Course a natborn would assume I supported the rise of the Empire.” His voice carried an overtone of indifference. It was belied by the rigidity of his posture. “Arrogant and judgmental, huh.”

“Is it really judgmental if it’s based on fact?”

“And what evidence do you have to support your statement?”

“Did you or did you not serve the Empire as it came to power?”

The commander crossed his arms over his chest. “You said you already knew.”

Kazi regarded him for a few seconds. He had a point—she had made her judgment and thought herself correct without the evidence to support or prove it. It irked her that he was technically right. The taunting quirk of his mouth irked her even further.

“I may have judged you, but I am right.” Kazi turned off the stove and removed her porridge, allowing it to cool. “The clones turned against the Republic and now serve the Empire. You served the Empire, so your criticism of the rebellion is moot.”

Commander Wolffe scoffed. “I’m not allowed to criticize ineffective strategy because of my past?”

“You’re not criticizing ineffective strategy. You’re criticizing the rebellion’s existence.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” He fisted a hand atop the counter. “The rebellion is another form of authority. Similar to the Empire. It’s exerting what it believes is the ideal way of governance.”

It was her turn to scoff. “The rebellion is fighting to free people from oppressive authority. They’re not exerting their own beliefs on others.”

“What happens if the rebellion defeats the Empire? What’s stopping them from abusing their power?”

“The rebellion’s leaders won’t abuse their power—”

“You don’t know that.”

“In that case, you shouldn’t trust any form of authority or governance.” At Commander Wolffe’s casual shrug, Kazi rolled her eyes. “Your cynicism is unreasonable—”

“I have every reason to not trust any form of governance.”

“I never said you didn’t—”

“You were saying my behavior was unreasonable.”

Kazi straightened at the accusation in his tone. “You clearly have a problem with me—”

“And you’ve been the picture of hospitality.”

“As I was saying”—her voice sharpened—“you have a problem with me, so tell me what it is.”

The commander lounged back in the stool. His features were tight with wariness, his gaze cold and harsh. “What does your network want from us?”

The question was so unexpected Kazi could only blink at him.

“The network wants many things,” she said.

“That’s not an answer.”

“I don’t know what the network wants from you, or if they even want something.” She held his gaze. “What are you doing here?”

“Rescue-and-relocate.” The commander worked his jaw, his eyes never leaving hers. “Why was this house chosen?”

At his flippant tone, Kazi tensed. “Is it not up to your standards?”

“I’m trying to figure out why the network chose this location when you clearly don’t want us here.” He gave her a bored look. “Planning on turning us in to the Empire?”

“Why did you accept the location when you clearly don’t trust the network?”

He refused to answer, his gaze unflinching.

Deeming the conversation concluded, Kazi returned to her porridge. She spooned a lump but hesitated, sneaking a sidelong glance in the commander’s direction. Eating in front of a stranger—eating in front of people, in general—was something she avoided, so she turned her back to him. Her small bite was cold and bland. She forced herself to swallow.

Uncertainty gnawed at her mind and apprehension knotted her muscles. The commander’s intrusion left her feeling off-kilter. Everything was outside her control.

Her porridge was no longer warm. She lost precious minutes of solitude. Her palm ached from the coagulating blood. The floors were dirty.

Kazi bit her tongue. Crumbs dotted the hardwood and it was clear her sister hadn’t vacuumed, even though she said she would.

Gripping her spoon harder, she tried to steady her breathing. She would vacuum when she returned to the house tonight. It wasn’t a big deal.

But her sister’s lack of responsibility vexed her, and her environment was unclean, and now three more people would be using the kitchen. Excluding however many soldiers the clone commanders brought here.

The reality of the situation struck her. Soldiers would be living here. Soldiers she didn’t know. Male soldiers who could be a danger to Neyti or Daria.

Heart beating too fast, Kazi forced herself to take another bite of porridge. It was too cold. She struggled to swallow it.

Panic mounted inside of her. She set aside the bowl and moved on to preparing Neyti’s lunch.

Minutes later, with a well-balanced meal paired with a tasty slice of pie she baked earlier in the week, Kazi stacked the food containers into a portable lunch bag. Snagging a pen and flimsi pad from a drawer, she wrote a quick note.

The moons will be full tonight. We can look at them.

The daily notes were simple. She didn’t know if Neyti read them, but she wanted the little girl to know she wasn’t alone. Even if she was distant and they didn’t talk—

A sharp intake of breath drew her attention and Kazi looked up.

In hindsight, she reacted too slowly.

The situation was unusual—players on a gameboard interacting in a dimension they weren’t supposed to—and so her reaction was delayed, allowing the situation to devolve.

A sleepy Neyti stood at the bottom of the stairs, adorably rumpled in overlarge pajamas and bunny-shaped slippers. Black hair knotted, her mouth hung open.

Kazi’s first thought concerned a morning greeting. She never knew how to interact with Neyti, and she always overthought what to say.

Good morning felt too formal and insincere.

How did you sleep? would go unanswered since Neyti refused to speak.

Today, the greeting debate didn’t matter.

Neyti stared at Commander Wolffe with wide eyes, and the commander stared back, perturbed.

The small child gulped. She mouthed a word, something that looked like “No.”

Confused, Kazi watched Neyti launch herself at the now-standing commander. Tiny fists pummeled the commander’s thighs and stomach, and it was so odd that Kazi still hesitated.

An annoyed grunt from the commander snapped her into action and Kazi lurched around the bar, yanking Neyti into her body. The little girl strained against her arms, gasping.

“Neyti,” Kazi scolded gently, turning the girl around. “Stop—stop.”

Neyti was shaking, large gray eyes welling with tears, nose sniffling. She seemed to be fighting the tears—her tawny skin growing blotchy and shoulders curving inwards. Pitiful hiccups emanated from her chest and she kept gulping, as if she could swallow back the emotions.

The sight of the small child trying to control her emotions made Kazi tense.

It was like looking through a window into her childhood. Witnessing the moments she hid in her room, breathing erratic and body shuddering as she dug her fingernails into her thighs and ordered herself not to cry. Pinching herself to feel real pain rather than the uncontrollable feelings pounding in her chest like fists trying to claw their way free.

“Neyti,” Kazi whispered hoarsely.

Neyti burst into a stifled sob and pressed her hands to her face, trying to hide the tears wetting her cheeks. Small, muffled cries shook her shoulders.

From the corner of Kazi’s eye, Commander Wolffe rubbed the back of his neck, his consternated gaze trained on the crying girl. He took a step forward, brows knitted together.

Deciding it best to create space, Kazi scooped Neyti into her arms and moved upstairs to the safe confines of the little girl’s room. Once the door was closed, she set Neyti on the edge of the bed.

The bed’s quilt was a mosaic depiction of blue and white waves. She thought it would be a pleasant reminder of Ceaia; a reminder of home for the child who lost everything. Small stuffed animals—a spotted jaguar, a blue bird of prey, and a pink dolphin (all natives to Eluca)—perched across Neyti’s stacked pillows.

Sitting cross-legged, Neyti hid her face in her hands. Her sobs had quieted into wet hiccups; she still trembled.

Kazi reached a hand forward—tentative, slow—but she hesitated. She worked hard to respect Neyti’s space, understanding how disorienting unwanted touch could be, and she didn’t want to force it.

Instead, she grabbed the spotted jaguar and gently placed it in Neyti’s lap. A hope the stuffed animal could provide a comfort she couldn’t. Neyti hugged the animal to her chest.

Uncertain what to do now, Kazi scanned the girl’s bedroom.

A brown, wooden desk leaned against the left wall. Laid across its chair was Neyti’s school uniform, creaseless and clean.

Four of the desk’s six shelves were barren. One shelf carried extra school supplies and the second shelf housed a small succulent Daria gifted Neyti a few weeks ago. Bulbous, white dots splattered the red flower, like sheep grazing in a field of blood. Vibrant green oddly shaped leaves sloped the perimeter of the pot. The dirt looked freshly watered.

A quiet cough drew her attention. Wide eyes blinked at her. Abashed, Neyti ducked her chin to her chest, hastily wiping at her cheeks.

Kazi bit the inside of her cheek, hating herself for Neyti’s clear embarrassment. She needed to do better—be better—for the youngling. Shoving aside her self-deprecating thoughts, she grabbed a handful of tissues from a box on the nightstand and offered one to Neyti. The girl accepted it and rubbed away her tears.

“Did the man downstairs scare you?” Kazi asked gently.

Neyti froze, her shoulders curving inwards.

“It’s okay if you were scared,” she said. Neyti’s lower lip trembled and Kazi mentally berated herself. Berated herself for putting Neyti in such an awful situation. “It’s scary to see people you don’t know. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about him.” She paused. “Did he remind you of what happened to your mom?”

The little girl sniffled and looked down at the bed. Her fingers played with the tissue, folding it into crisp lines.

Kazi massaged her temple. She should have known Neyti would react this way. She should have been prepared. She should have told Commander Wolffe to leave so that she could speak with Neyti.

It was her fault Neyti was scared and crying. She had failed. Failed spectacularly.

Defeat wrapped an unfriendly arm around her; she gritted her teeth.

“That man downstairs isn’t going to hurt you, okay?” She searched Neyti’s frowning face. “He’s a…good guy. And he and a few others like him are going to live with us for a while. Okay?”

Neyti tilted her head to the side, curiosity awakened.

Kazi nudged a bunny slipper with her foot. “You’re safe here. You’re safe with me and Daria. Okay?”

Still fiddling with the tissue, Neyti considered her. For a six-year-old, she practiced a shrewdness most adults lacked, her expression thoughtful, perceptive eyes wandering from the door to her face. Kazi kept her features open and kind, hoping Neyti could see the truth in her gaze. The promise. Finally, Neyti nodded.

Loosing a quiet breath of relief, Kazi straightened. She hesitated for a moment and then extended her hand. “Are you ready for breakfast?”

Neyti appraised her hand. After a few seconds, she patted it.

Slightly bemused, Kazi decided it was progress and made her way to the door.

Correcting one of the lopsided ears on her bunny slipper so that both were proportionally angled, Neyti stumbled from her bed, tossed away her tissue, and followed Kazi back downstairs.

Her hope to ease Neyti into a cohabitated space with the clones—starting small with just Commander Wolffe—was ruined by the presence of the other two clones.

The three clones stood close together, countenances serious and voices low in discussion.

Muscles stiffened along her back and Kazi pursed her lips. So much for an easy introduction.

Lifting her chin, she strode into the kitchen. The clones’ conversation faltered. Three sets of eyes assessed her and then lowered to Neyti who stood on the final step of the staircase, one hand curled around the banister while her gaze bounced from one clone to the next. Her cheeks started to darken; her mouth pressed into a thin line.

Kazi cleared her throat—an attempt to distract the clones from Neyti—and grabbed her bloodied rag, stuffing it in her back pocket to hide it from Neyti.

“I want to apologize for what happened,” she said, meeting Commander Wolffe’s gaze. “I hadn’t told her about your arrival and you…” Scared her.

A muscle flexed in his jaw.

“…startled her,” she finished.

Soft footsteps padded to the corner of the bar. Kazi gave Neyti an encouraging nod. Bunny ears bobbing, Neyti stepped close to her side, her eyes darting from Kazi to the clones. A vacillated movement waiting for someone to act.

Commander Cody moved first, patting one of the bar’s stools. A small smile lifted his lips, and in a kindly voice he asked, “Do you want to sit here?”

An adorable glare darkened Neyti’s features. With a suspicious glower aimed at the commander, she wandered farther into the kitchen, deliberately ignoring the three males.

The clones shared dubious looks.

While Neyti grabbed a fork from a squeaking drawer, Kazi opened a lopsided cabinet to retrieve a plate, wincing at the cabinet’s poor appearance. The house boasted a multitude of loose or broken oddities. She wanted to hire someone to fix the basic issues but she kept putting it off.

Still glowering, Neyti edged around the bar, keeping ample distance between her and the males, and took a seat at the kitchen table. Scrambled eggs, buttered toast, and berry slices filled her plate. She took slow bites as she eyed the clones.

Expecting more interrogation from the now-gathered commanders, Kazi faced them. Commander Wolffe was staring at her, arms folded across his chest.

“You have a kid.”

“Yes.” She studied him, trying to decipher his inscrutable expression. It was futile. When the three clones didn’t question her further on Neyti’s existence, she changed topics. “I registered a flight plan for you. Your ship is now a food-export carrier.”

Registering the flight plan under her name left her annoyed and unsettled. But Fehr requested it, and she couldn’t refuse. She only hoped nothing would come of it.

Commander Fox leaned against the bar. “Fehr mentioned you’re an analyst.”

It wasn’t a question so Kazi didn’t bother confirming. Instead, she observed the severe glare Commander Wolffe threw Commander Fox. A glare full of warning.

Either ignorant of Commander Wolffe’s baleful stare or electing to ignore him, Commander Fox continued. “We have intel that needs to be analyzed—”

“No.” The word was low and controlled, and though Commander Wolffe appeared apathetic, the rigid lines in his shoulders and jaw spoke otherwise.

The two commanders stared one another down. Their postures were stiff and eyes narrowed as they engaged in a silent argument Kazi couldn’t parse. Commander Cody looked between them. He released an aggrieved sigh, shaking his head.

Deciding she had no interest in whatever the clones wanted, Kazi joined Neyti at the table.

While Neyti finished her breakfast, Kazi considered her tasks for the day, making a mental note to pick up more lumina berries from the Marketplace. Her thoughts were jittery, though, and her attention returned to analyzing Commander Wolffe. He hadn’t moved, his stance defensive, face guarded.

Except, this time, his expression wasn’t so unreadable.

He was scrutinizing her. Studying her in a way that made the hairs on the back of her neck curl.

There was something in his gaze that left her discomfited. Like she was a ball of yarn, knotted and entangled, yet he was assured in his abilities to pick her apart. To untangle her and peer inside at all she kept carefully locked away and hidden.

But she knew herself, and she knew he would never succeed.

Masterlist | Chapter 1 | A Muse

A/N: I love the reluctant father trope. It's one of my favorites. But I’ve also come to the unremarkable realization that readers readily forgive male characters for their parenting mistakes, but when it comes to a woman, she’s expected to be a good parent. She’s expected to have a motherly “instinct”, and readers, and society in general, aren’t forgiving of these female characters when they mess up.

This is my take on the reluctant father trope. Kazi will make mistakes when it comes to Neyti’s care. She will majorly fuck up. She is human, she is not infallible, and she doesn’t know what she’s doing. Parenting is a learning experience, regardless of gender. Her struggles are a main part of this story.

#I Yearn and so I Fear #commander wolffe x oc: kazi ennari #commander wolffe #oc: kazi ennari #commander wolffe x ofc #star wars fanfiction #commander wolffe fanfiction

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them97boys · 26 days ago

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Moonflower - Chapter 3

Xu Minghao (Seventeen) x F!Reader

post one night stand.

wc: 2.9k

minors DNI.

final chapter.

sorry for posting this a week late! thank you for all your support!

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

As the blissful haze began to fade, Minghao held Y/N close, feeling the warmth of their shared moment linger in the air. He shifted slightly to look at her, his expression softening with affection. The glow of the night still illuminated her features, but now he could see the remnants of vulnerability in her eyes, a stark contrast to the confident woman who had captivated him at the bar.

“Here,” he murmured, reaching for a bottle of water on his bedside table. He unscrewed the cap and held it to her lips, tilting the bottle gently so she could take a sip. She accepted it, her fingers brushing against his as she drank, the simple act bringing a smile to his face. The warmth of their earlier intimacy hung in the air, but now there was a tenderness that made the moment feel even more profound.

After she finished, Minghao took a soft cloth from the nightstand, dampening it slightly before carefully wiping away the remnants of her makeup. He approached the task with a gentle reverence, his fingers brushing against her skin as he worked to cleanse her face. The intimacy of the moment was palpable, the quiet between them filled with unspoken understanding and care.

As he wiped away the last traces of makeup, Y/N leaned in, surprising him with a soft, tender kiss. It was gentle, filled with gratitude and affection, and for a brief moment, time seemed to stand still. Minghao's breath caught in his throat, and he felt his heart race at the unexpected display of sweetness. The shyness in her eyes after the kiss was endearing; she looked so soft, almost vulnerable, contrasting with the confident woman he had met just hours before.

“You’re full of surprises tonight.” he breathed, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Y/N ducked her head, a light blush creeping onto her cheeks as she shyly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. The confident facade she had worn so boldly began to slip away, revealing the girl beneath who craved connection just as much as he did.

“You should probably use the restroom,” Minghao suggested, his voice light but filled with genuine concern. “I’ll be right here.” He gestured toward the bathroom door, ensuring she felt comfortable before moving to gather a few things for her.

“Okay,” she replied softly, a hint of shyness still lingering in her voice. She slipped out of bed, and as she walked to the restroom, Minghao couldn’t help but admire the way she moved, the softness of her form enveloped in the afterglow of their earlier intimacy.

While she was in the bathroom, Minghao took a moment to gather fresh clothes for her. He found a comfortable T-shirt that would drape over her frame, a pair of sweatpants that would be loose and cozy. He wanted her to feel at home, to know that she was safe and cared for.

When she emerged from the restroom, her cheeks were still flushed, but she appeared more relaxed. She looked adorable in his oversized T-shirt, which hung loosely on her body, the sleeves slightly rolled up, showcasing her arms. The sweatpants pooled around her ankles, giving her a playful, cozy look that made Minghao's heart swell.

“You look cute,” he remarked, unable to hide the fondness in his voice.

“Thanks,” she replied, a shy smile spreading across her lips. There was a softness in her demeanor that tugged at his heart, making him want to envelop her in warmth and comfort.

As they settled back onto the bed together, Y/N hesitated before asking, “Can I sleep over?” Her voice was small, almost timid, but there was a spark of hopefulness in her eyes that made Minghao’s heart flutter.

“Of course,” he replied instantly, beaming at her. “I’d love that.” The sincerity in his tone was palpable, and Y/N felt a rush of relief mixed with happiness. The idea of being close to him, of curling up together, felt incredibly comforting.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose,” she added, a hint of insecurity creeping into her voice, but Minghao shook his head, his expression earnest.

“You’re not imposing at all,” he reassured her, reaching out to take her hand. “I really enjoy having you here. Tonight was… special.”

She smiled softly at him, her eyes shining with gratitude. “It was,” she echoed, her heart swelling at his words. There was something incredibly sweet about the way he looked at her, as if she was the only person in the world that mattered at that moment.

Minghao shifted closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. They sank into the plush comfort of the bed, the atmosphere thick with tenderness. As they nestled against each other, the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of them wrapped in the warmth of shared moments and whispered promises.

“Do you want to talk about anything?” Minghao asked, his voice gentle as he stroked her arm.

“I’m not sure,” She replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I just want to enjoy this.” She shifted slightly, burying her face in his shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her cheek.

“Me too,” he murmured, tightening his hold around her. The warmth of his body enveloped her, creating a cocoon that made her feel safe and cherished. They laid there, comfortable in the silence, enjoying each other’s presence as they drifted into a tranquil state.

As the night deepened, Y/N felt the soothing embrace of sleep beginning to pull her under, lulled by the gentle sound of Minghao’s breathing and the warmth radiating from his body.

In that serene moment, She realized that she had found something extraordinary with Minghao—something that promised warmth, safety, and love. As sleep began to claim her, she felt a sense of belonging she hadn’t experienced in a long time, and with that thought, she drifted off into a peaceful slumber, wrapped in the comfort of his embrace.

------

The soft light of morning filtered into the room, illuminating the cozy space where Y/N lay nestled against the warm sheets. Her hair sprawled across the pillow, casting delicate shadows on her face, and she looked peaceful, her features relaxed in sleep. Minghao, awake and filled with a sense of wonder, couldn’t help but admire her.

As he lay beside her, he took a moment to study the way her lips curled slightly in a dream and how her long lashes brushed against her cheeks. She looked like a goddess, bathed in the soft glow of the morning sun, and he felt an overwhelming sense of affection swell within him. Unable to resist, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment too long.

He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers brushing against her soft skin. The gesture was tender, filled with a mixture of admiration and protectiveness. He couldn’t help but smile at how beautiful she looked, even in slumber. The memory of the previous night lingered in his mind, the intimacy they had shared igniting a warmth in his chest.

After a moment, he carefully slid out of bed, making sure not to disturb her. The faint sounds of the bustling city outside filtered into the room, but he focused instead on the delicious prospect of making breakfast. He tiptoed to the kitchen, determined to prepare something special for the two of them.

As he moved around the kitchen, he pulled out ingredients from the fridge, deciding on a simple but hearty breakfast. He opted for scrambled eggs and toast, alongside some fresh fruit. The sizzle of the bacon in the pan filled the air, and he breathed in the rich, savory aroma, smiling to himself at the thought of Y/N waking up to the enticing smell.

Minutes passed, and he was just finishing up when he heard the soft padding of feet behind him. He turned around, a grin breaking across his face as he saw Y/N emerge from the bedroom, her hair tousled and eyes still heavy with sleep. She looked utterly adorable, wrapped in one of his oversized shirts that hung loosely around her figure, making her appear small and delicate.

“Good morning,” he greeted, his voice warm and inviting.

“Morning,” she replied, stifling a yawn as she rubbed her eyes. The scent of breakfast wafted toward her, and her stomach growled in response, prompting a giggle from Minghao. “Wow, it smells amazing in here! Are you a chef now?”

“Just a humble breakfast maker,” he teased, flashing her a playful smile. “I thought I’d whip up something nice for you. You know, to show my appreciation for last night.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed slightly at his words, and she felt a flutter in her stomach at the memory of their intimacy. “You didn’t have to do all this, but I’m really glad you did,” she said sincerely, taking a few steps closer to him.

As she approached, he could see her curiosity shining in her eyes, mixed with a hint of something deeper. “Why are you being so nice to me?” she asked, tilting her head slightly, a playful smile dancing on her lips. “You don’t even know me that well.”

Minghao paused, the question catching him off guard. He turned to face her fully, leaning against the counter, his expression thoughtful. “I guess… I just feel a connection with you,” he admitted, his tone earnest. “Last night was… different. It wasn’t just about the physical part; it felt deeper than that. You have this amazing energy, and I wanted to take care of you.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered at his honesty, and she could see the sincerity in his gaze. The way he spoke made her feel cherished, and the vulnerability in his words struck a chord within her. “I feel the same way,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s rare for me to connect with someone like this.”

“Then let’s make the most of it,” Minghao suggested, his eyes brightening with a playful glint. “How about we eat breakfast and plan our next adventure together?”

She laughed softly, nodding in agreement. “That sounds perfect.”

With that, she moved closer to the stove, her eyes lighting up as she took in the spread he had prepared. Minghao served her a plate, placing it on the table before joining her. The two sat across from each other, the table laden with the delicious breakfast, and the atmosphere was filled with an air of newfound intimacy and light-heartedness.

As they dug into the food, their conversation flowed easily, punctuated by laughter and the occasional teasing remark. Each bite was accompanied by playful glances and lingering smiles, and with every passing moment, the bond between them felt stronger.

“Okay, but seriously,” Y/N said between bites, looking up at him with mischief in her eyes. “What’s your secret? Are you just this charming all the time, or do I get a special edition?”

Minghao chuckled, leaning back in his chair, a playful grin spreading across his face. “You caught me,” He raised an eyebrow teasingly. “But I’ll keep that between us if you promise not to tell anyone.”

“Deal,” she replied, biting back a laugh. “Your secret is safe with me.”

As they finished their breakfast, Y/N couldn’t help but feel grateful for the unexpected morning, the warmth of his presence, and the connection that was blossoming between them. They both knew that this was just the beginning of something special, and as they shared glances filled with promise, the morning sun illuminated the potential of their newfound relationship, a bright future waiting just beyond the horizon.

As they finished breakfast, she leaned back in her chair, feeling satisfied and blissfully content. The warmth of the moment lingered in the air between them, and she couldn’t help but admire how comfortable they had become with each other in such a short time. The oversized shirt she wore hugged her curves in all the right places, and the soft sweatpants pooled around her ankles, giving her an effortlessly cozy look that only added to her charm.

“Hey, do you mind if I wear your clothes home?” she asked, glancing down at his attire adorning her frame. “I mean, I feel kind of bad borrowing them, but they’re just so comfy.”

Minghao raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk forming on his lips. “Comfy is the goal,” he replied, his tone teasing. “You can wear them as long as you promise to give them back… maybe.”

She laughed, her eyes sparkling with delight. “You might just have to convince me to keep them.”

“Oh, I have plenty of ways to convince you,” he said, leaning forward with a mock-serious expression. “But we’ll save that for another time.”

“Deal,” she shot back, her heart fluttering at the light banter. As the lingering tension from the night before hung in the air, she knew she didn’t want this moment to end.

After finishing their meal, they moved to the living room, where Y/N could see a small collection of books and a guitar resting in the corner. She found herself feeling drawn to this side of Minghao, a glimpse of the person behind the playful charm. “You have a nice place,” she commented, her gaze sweeping across the space, taking in the little details that made it feel homey.

“Thanks,” he replied, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, a relaxed smile on his face. “It’s not much, but it’s mine. I like to think it has character.”

“It definitely does,” she said, a hint of admiration in her voice. “I can see a bit of you in it. I guess that’s how it should be, right?”

“Exactly,” he agreed, and there was a moment of silence where they both seemed to reflect on the unfolding connection between them. Minghao found himself wondering what it would be like to have her in his life, and the thought made his heart race slightly.

“Okay, I guess I should get going,” Y/N finally said, her tone shifting slightly as she reached for the door handle. The reality of their time together pressed down on her, but she wanted to hold onto this moment just a little longer.

Minghao walked her to the door, the warmth of her presence still lingering around him. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay a little longer? We could watch a movie or something.”

She smiled, the offer tempting, but she shook her head. “As much as I’d love that, I have some things to take care of. But I’ll definitely take you on that.”

“Just say the word, and I’ll be ready,” he replied, his voice low and earnest, making her heart flutter.

As she stood in the doorway, they shared a lingering gaze that spoke volumes. The atmosphere crackled with unspoken words and possibilities, and Y/N felt a warmth bloom in her chest. “Thanks for everything, Minghao. I really had an amazing time,” she said softly, stepping closer.

“I’m glad,” he replied, his voice low as he looked into her eyes, feeling the intensity of the moment.

Unable to resist the urge any longer, she leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. The warmth of her lips sent a shiver down his spine, and he smiled, slightly taken aback by the sweetness of the gesture.

“Take care of yourself, okay?” she said, stepping back and giving him a playful wink.

“Will do,” he replied, his heart racing as he watched her turn to leave.

Once she stepped out, he felt a mix of satisfaction and disappointment that their time together had come to an end. He stood there for a moment, absorbing the warmth of her presence, the gentle glow of the morning light filling the doorway.

But then, he slapped himself lightly on the forehead, a sudden realization hitting him. “Damn it, I forgot to ask for her number!” he groaned, mentally chastising himself for not being more proactive. He turned back toward the apartment, contemplating how he could possibly let her leave without securing a way to contact her.

Then, he felt something shift in the fabric of his sweatpants. Reaching into the pocket, he found the small piece of paper and pulled it out, his eyes widening as he read the neatly written digits along with a quick note:

XXXXXXXXXX

Call me ;)

-Y/N

A wide grin spread across Minghao’s face, and he couldn’t help but laugh at his own forgetfulness. “She’s brilliant,” he murmured to himself, feeling a rush of excitement flood through him.

As he stared at the number, he felt a sense of warmth spread through his chest. This connection was unexpected yet thrilling, and he couldn’t wait to explore it further. With a satisfied smile, he pocketed the number, vowing to call her later that day.

“Next time, I won’t let her get away so easily,” he said to himself, a newfound determination in his heart. As he moved about the apartment, the lingering memories of the night before and the promise of what was to come filled him with a sense of hope and anticipation, the start of something truly special blossoming in his mind.

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prolix-yuy · 2 years ago

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Congrats!!!!!!! Can I request a little something with our boy ~Whiskey~? Maybe like an old college fling and they see each other at a bar and things get ~spicy~?? Thanks!!! Congratulations again!!!

Ohhhhhh lovely, you've got me in a soft spot. I never thought Whiskey was going to be a recurring character in my PPCU but he keeps coming in and spicing things up! Let's see how a little meetup with an old college friend turns out...

My Bluebell Song

Pairing: Jack "Whiskey" Daniels x F!Reader "Bluebell"

Summary: In all the time time I've known you and loved you from afar, let me go back on your way.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, descriptions of male and female bodies, breast play, grinding and groping, dirty talking Jack comes with his own warning.

Notes: Golden Circle? We don't know her here. Jack just has a nice job at a distillery and a heart full of lovvin'. Title is based on My Bluebell Song by Mark Olsen.

“Bluebell?”

Your head perks up, brows pulled together.

No one’s called you Bluebell since…

“Whiskey?”

The nondescript bar a few miles from home, one that’s so familiar to you it practically fades into the background when you enter, burst into light and color when Jack Daniels smiles.

“Well I’ll be damned, it is you!” he says, sliding up to your barstool to pull you into a warm hug.

“It’s been so long!” you reply, a breathy laugh squeezed out of you by Jack’s embrace. He pulls back to study your face, giving you a good long pause to take in how the years have changed him. College was far enough back that you miscounted the years, but your memory of the southern gentleman who was surprisingly adept at criminal law and international affairs was still sharp enough to hold against the real deal in front of you.

A mustache, thick and well trimmed, sits comfortably on his face. A few more laugh lines around his mouth and eyes, though they look less used than you might suspect. The span of his shoulders is wider than you remember - maybe because he’s standing close enough that you can breathe in lungfuls of mint and musky cologne without it being too noticeable. The flannel he’s wearing is soft, the memory of its caress against your cheek soothing as you smirk at the buttons threatening to pop. He was always proud of the width and breadth of his body, and apparently his fashion hasn’t strayed from accentuating his best assets.

“Never thought I’d be running into you in a place like this,” Jack says, stepping back to settle into the bar stool next to you. One elbow on the counter, long dexterous fingers stroking along the etched lines of his rocks glass. You know what’s in it, smell the heat of whiskey as clearly as you can smell the man that shares the name.

“I never thought I’d be running into you, period. What have you been up to Jack?” you ask, turning in your seat to face him. The sideways smirk that used to make your heart dance plays across his face, though there’s a little more sadness to it. You can commiserate; the years have been kind and not to you as well.

“You know, the holidays. My dad’s alone now, so I took some time off to keep him company.” Your smile dims, a more empathetic one replacing it.

“I was sorry to hear it,” you say, Jack’s grateful hum chasing your words. Your mom told you about Mrs. Daniels’ rapid decline.

“Home visiting too?” Jack says, changing the subject quickly as you clock the shine of his eyes. Those who knew Jack might have thought it brisk, but you knew Jack, and let him lead.

Jack had been the troublemaker, the rabble-rouser at your college. Athletic enough to be a fiend on the lacrosse field, and smart enough to hold his own in debate club, he was a heartthrob to many. But that’s not what drew you to friendship.

You worked as a stable hand through college, both for the money and for the enjoyment of being around the boarded horses after long days of classes. It was just the amount of palate-cleansing you needed to go home and study in the evenings. You’d heard of “that whiskey-named fella”, but it wasn’t until you were bent over in a stall putting down fresh hay that you exchanged words.

“Excuse me ma’am,” came a careful voice from outside the gate, startling you upright as a few errant wisps of straw floated down from your hands. He was handsome then, more boyish and brash, but respectful when he apologized for startling you.

“Do you know if Sherwood’s still out on the grounds?” he asked, your brain finally clicking into motion. You directed him to the stable manager, mentioned that you thought his horse was getting a rubdown, and let him know where to check if he couldn’t find him there. He thanked you, and added with a self-assured smirk, “See you around, Bluebell.” The moniker furrowed your brow until you peeked over the stable door and saw the name etched into a plaque.

Bluebell stuck, and so did Jack once he ran into you on campus. You thought he might be a tease about it, but your casual conversations over horses quickly expanded to favorite classes, homework help, lunches and dinners when you both were free, and the occasional wild weekend when obligations were lax. Holidays spent visiting each other for a handful of days, especially when you realized how close your homes were. You fit into each other's worlds easily, and left them amicably at the end of four hectic years.

You truly never expected to see Jack again. You assumed you’d chat, his number migrated from phone to phone, but whenever you thought of calling or texting it felt weird after so many years apart. So he became the soft memory of a good friend.

Until now, with his charming smile and easy conversation back within arm’s reach.

“Mom and Dad are thinking of downsizing…which they’ve said for years, but they’re asking me to take things so maybe they’re serious this time.” Your drink slips lower as Jack watches you with careful curiosity. It’s a look that made you feel seen in your youth, but now makes you feel…appreciated?

You can’t remember the last time a man made you feel appreciated.

“I always liked that house,” he mulls, signaling the bartender for another round.

“If you give them an offer, they might just take it,” you toss back, leaning on the bar as Jack turns back to you. You’re delightfully buzzy, shoulders lighter and warmth radiating down your spine at every new laugh Jack coaxes out of you. It’s the easy happiness you remember from late nights returning home from parties, mostly there because Jack invited you. The little thrill when he’d ask to crash at your dorm because you had a single and his roommate was asleep. How euphoric it felt to lay on the floor and stare at the Where’s Waldo poster you hung on the ceiling, Jack complaining about how your shag rug was in dire need of grooming.

All the times you tried to work yourself up to touch him that ended with his soft snore sending you to your bed and a regretful groan waking you the next day.

“I don’t think it would be quite the same without you in it,” he says. The words are simple enough, rumbled out from between his full lips, but the quick glint in his eyes has waves of heat and lightheadedness washing over you.

Did he just…?

“I’m sure you have a better home waiting for you,” you say, regret instantly tanging on your tongue. Jack gives you a shrug, that smirk still playing beneath that gorgeous mustache. It kills you how good he looks with it.

“Nothing special, little duplex I rent close to the distillery. It’s a house, but not really much of a home.” The bartender delivers your drinks, and Jack strokes one thick finger along the rim of his glass. The heat that was licking your face and neck is now hurtling somewhere much more dangerous. “What about you, Bluebell? You made yourself a nice little home, a good life outside of this town?”

You return his shrug as casually as possible, the implications of your conversation strumming your heart.

“I haven’t settled on anything yet. Feels like I’ve still got some opportunities ahead of me.” You almost let out the nervous laugh sitting in your throat. You’ve never been so coy, yet so bold. But it’s Jack, the one you never let yourself believe you could get, and when he meets your eyes again your strumming heart stops.

“Someone special waiting for you?” he asks, slow as a sunset. Your answer is a gunshot.

“No.”

His smile ricochets into your chest.

“Good.”

Suddenly you can’t breathe, Jack’s gaze pinning you in place. His confidence has always been sexy but directing it at you, with unfamiliar seduction behind his words, has your mouth drying out.

An interruption gives you time to compose yourself.

“Oh my god, Whiskey?!” comes a woman’s voice, the crowd parting as she beelines to Jack’s shoulder.

“Maryanne,” he says with a laugh, treating her to a one-armed hug that she throws herself into. Breathing under control, you try not to jump to the next possible conclusion.

“I haven’t seen you since graduation? How have you been?” she gushes, hand planted firmly on his shoulder. Her nails are gorgeously manicured, long hair swept back into an elegant high ponytail. She’s effortlessly dressed, fitting in but standing out in a way that draws eyes. You vaguely remember her, a staple at Jack’s college parties. With a whoosh of your stomach, you recall that they dated, briefly.

“Back in town for a time. The holidays, you know,” Jack answers, nodding at her kindly but curtly. The exchange has you see-sawing between dread and confusion. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was brushing her off. You desperately hope he is.

“Amazing. You look amazing, too, by the way. Really grew into these shoulders,” she says, squeezing his bicep with a laugh. He chuckles along with her, but you see his body shift away. You should try to give her the hint.

“Nice to see you too, Maryanne,” you interject, the force of her smile now turned to you. Her expression blanks, then recognition clicks.

“Oh my God, this is just a day of reunions!” she crows, giving you a hug too. Catching Jack’s eye over her shoulder, he shakes his head with a helpless shrug.

“You should come sit with us, catch up!” Maryanne suggests, looking at Jack now instead of you. “A couple of the old crowd have a table in the back, I’m sure they’d all like to say hi.”

Fighting the urge to shrink into yourself, you try to keep a sunny disposition even as Maryanne is tempting Jack away. His eyes flit between you two, uncertainty painting his expression. Maryanne catches on and spins back.

“Of course you can come back too, we have plenty of room,” she adds cheerily. Your heart is hammering in your throat now, tears threatening to sting your eyes. It would be rude to refuse, but you don’t want to sit at a table full of people who wouldn’t recognize you without being at Jack’s elbow. You didn’t want to fake a smile for the next hour. You especially didn’t want to watch Maryanne flirt with Jack, see if he accepts her advances, see if he’s just having his fun with his old faithful friend and you’re just projecting something more.

A warm palm strokes down your forearm and dashes all your worries away like blowing dust from an old novel.

“Thank you for the invite, but my girl and I are having a night to ourselves. Please send our best wishes to the others,” Jack says as smoothly as any movie star could hope to deliver under pressure. Maryanne’s face freezes, contorts, and breaks into embarrassment with realization.

“Oh I’m such an idiot, I didn’t mean to…” she begins to apologize, Jack’s soothing voice smothering her frantic one, but you can barely hear them over two words echoing in your head.

My girl.

Mygirlmygirlmygirlmygirlmygirl.

You smile understandingly at Maryanne, give her another hug before she slips back into the crowd and disappears.

Leaving you with Jack. Who just called you his girl.

His hand is still on your arm, but slowly slides down to your wrist, then over your knuckles, and finally under your palm to take your hand into his own.

“I hope that wasn’t too forward, me calling you that,” he murmurs, leaning in and studying your hand in his, almost as if he’s mapping out a scene in his head. The wisp of memory of all those times you wished you’d taken the first step are familiar in his face.

“Only if you don’t mean it,” you say, surprised at the steadiness in your voice. Jack peeks up at you through his lashes, and the mirror of your own hope makes you more light-headed than any drink.

“You’ve been my girl to me for longer than my pride will let me admit,” he husks, his other hand coming to brush against your knee. The room feels brighter all of the sudden, music too loud, conversations too close. You take in a shuddering breath, ordering yourself to have the strength you’d lacked so many times.

“I’ve always been your girl, Jack.”

He’s on his feet in a flash, fingers laced in yours and tugging you out of your seat.

“Come with me.”

It feels like you’re floating as Jack leads you through the growing crowd, fingers woven with his thicker ones. His flannel stretches tantalizingly across his shoulders as you follow him to the back of the bar where a hall leads to the bathrooms. Just as you duck out of sight of the other bar goers, Jack cups your cheeks and presses your foreheads together.

“Bluebell, I’ve chickened out on kissing you so many times,” he groans, whiskey-laced breath hot on your lips as your smile pinches your cheeks.

“Glad to know I wasn’t the only one,” you manage to get out before Jack cradles your head and brings his lips to yours.

You can’t help it; you moan into his mouth, everything fading away around you - the music, the conversations - until it’s just Jack’s full lips fitting to your plush ones. A puff of air tickles along your cheek, Jack’s aquiline nose pressed into yours as he drags out kiss after kiss. Maybe it’s one long one, barely broken by the sharp inhales he pulls through his nose and the slow encroachment of his body against yours. One of his hands slides down your back to press you chest to chest, arms circling as you melt into him. This is what a swoon-worthy kiss should be like. This is what you missed all those years.

He pulls back just enough to brush your lips together lightly, then gently swipes his tongue along the seam. The sensation startles your mouth open, fisting his hair in one hand and his flannel in another. It’s his turn to groan into your mouth, pressing you back into the cool wall.

“Bluebell, I should have been kissing you for years,” he groans, crashing your lips back together and darting his tongue in to slide against yours. Your need mounts, sucking his lower lip between your teeth playfully before exploring with teasing licks and gasps. Fighting between air and desire, you whimper when Jack pulls away, searching your face frantically.

“This doesn’t feel real. Tell me it’s real, Bluebell, because it’s the best damn thing that’s happened to me in years and I’ll be devastated if I wake up,” he pants, and you pull him into a hug that almost crushes his nose into your neck.

“It’s so fucking real, Jack, I’m…shit, I’m so happy,” you whisper, feeling Jack’s face turn against your skin before his mouth is hot and hungrily scraping along your throat. Mindlessly you part your legs and shift your hips to guide his thigh between yours, a thready noise eking out when he presses deeper and up against your heat.

“Oh shit, baby, you’re so hot,” he garbles, hands coming to your waist as he kisses a path up to your ear. “Fuck, we shouldn’t be…doing this here. Don’t want anyone to see you like this.” In spite of his confession, he urges your hips to roll along his thigh and you bemoan wearing jeans out tonight. The double layers of denim keep the friction frustratingly soft. Though when Jack growls, “I only want to be able to see you like this,” it’s almost enough to get you there anyways.

“Take me home,” you breathe, peeling him off you enough that he can see your urgency. His eyes are hazy, lips swollen and tempting enough to steal another kiss. He presses his thigh harder, making you come up to your toes with a squeak. It’s so close to what you need.

“Fuck, I’m staying with my dad,” Jack groans, fingers sliding under your shirt to tease at the skin along your waistband. You huff a laugh, lolling your head back.

“Same,” you add, voice cracking with the hilarity of it all. “It’s just like college all over again,” you observe, snorting out a laugh that Jack follows with a warm one of his own.

“No, if this was college I’d come back to your dorm and make love to you all night in that tiny little bed,” Jack corrects, both palms slipping down to squeeze your bottom as he slides his nose against yours. You stroke across his chest, fingers skating briefly over the peaks of his nipples and noting the little hitch in his breath when you do.

“The bathrooms lock,” you say, biting your lip at the look of disgust that scrawls across Jack’s face.

“The first time I get to fuck you will not be in a dirty bar bathroom,” Jack scolds, stepping back and taking the delicious heat and friction with him. You pout briefly, chasing his touch.

“Bill keeps it very clean, I’ll have you know,” you shoot back, earning a roll of the eyes and an enveloping of you into his body again. He places a chaste kiss on your temple, then another on the corner of your mouth.

“I’ve got my dad’s truck out back, we can go anywhere,” Jack whispers, the words barely out before you’re tugging him to the exit.

“I’ve always liked your dad’s truck,” you tease, earning a delicious flash of heat in Jack’s eyes.

“Don’t you start that,” he warns, but follows you out.

The back parking lot is dark, your only guide the flash of the truck’s lights. Jack puts you in the passenger side first, but as soon as the door shuts you’re on him again, pulling him by the flannel back to your mouth.

“Bluebell this is hardly better than the bar. I’m not getting arrested for indecent exposure by Mr. Benedict in my dad’s old truck.” The sheer ridiculousness of the sentence makes you pull away, eyes adjusted enough to the dark to find Jack’s in the ink.

“Mr. Benedict, the PE teacher, is a cop now?” you ask, pulling a chuckle from deep in Jack’s chest. It’s quickly becoming your favorite sound.

“Seems you need to get in on the town gossip.”

His sassy remark is cut short when you palm his cock through his jeans, heavy and straining against the denim.

“Seems like someone may not be able to wait until we find a better place,” you say, sliding your thumb under the thick ridge of the head. A guttural choke spurs you on, leaning over the center console to suck a mark beneath Jack’s ear. Your body is vibrating, all self-consciousness and anxiety thrown out the window in favor of Jack Jack Jack.

“Holy fuck, Bluebell, shit, okay, yeah, okay, let’s…” Jack stammers before you awkwardly crawl over to the drivers side, balancing precariously on your knees as Jack peppers kisses across the tops of your breasts.

“Want you now, Jack, I can barely fucking stand it,” you plead, working open the top few buttons of his flannel. Jack takes the hint and rucks your shirt over your breasts, scraping his teeth along the fabric to catch your nipple. It spikes through your spine and into your cunt, your hips jerking. His thumb hooks into your bra strap and tugs it down, your breast spilling into his hot mouth. You could cry, his tongue swirling around the peak and sucking and rolling it between his lips creating the perfect ache. Grabbing the bunched-up hem of your shirt, you move to pull it over your head, your hips canting backwards…

And your ass hits the horn.

The blare of sound shocks you forward, and with a series of ratcheting clicks the well-worn driver’s seat reclines, sending you flying back with twin oofs! Your chest slams against Jack’s, and with a “shit!” you post up on your hands, still straddling Jack with one of your tits out and your shirt half on. He looks up at you, eyes wide in the moonlight, before he tries (and fails) to fight back a smile.

“Just alert the whole town to our canoodling then, sweetheart,” Jack says before you both dissolve into laughter, tears streaming down your face. Jack rights your bra and helps you slide your shirt back down to a reasonable place before pulling you to lay against his chest.

For a few long minutes you lay there, wildly uncomfortable with how scrunched up you are, but unwilling to move and break the spell. Jack has to speak first.

“I think this may be the universe telling us to do this the proper way,” he muses, fingers stroking up and down your spine.

“And what would that be?” you ask, the rise and fall of his chest gentle against your cheek. You like hearing his voice vibrate under your hand.

“Taking you out to dinner first. Bringing you flowers, but also some for your mom. Ordering two desserts - I don’t share when it comes to chocolate cake.” You smile at the picture he’s painting. “After we drive out where we can stargaze, and I can kiss on you some more. Then we go back to a nice hotel, and I make fantastic love to you until we can barely stay awake.”

Your cheeks heat pleasantly, placing a kiss to the center of his chest.

“Then what? What comes next?” you ask, suddenly sobered. This wild night years in the making still feels like a dream. How could it be more than that?

“Well, you did say your mom and dad’s house was for sale…” he muses, hands slowing as you come to your elbows above him. “I might be in the market for a change.”

You watch the small tics in his face - his tongue darting wetly over his lips, the intensity of his gaze, his concerned brow - and find comfort there.

“There’s a house I’ve been wanting to buy for years. Might be a better investment if we both went in on it,” you say, with only a little waver in your voice. “You know, as partners.”

Jack nods, guiding your head down to his for another deep kiss, slow and thorough.

“I like that. Let’s talk about it over…let’s say seven to ten dates,” he says. You press your foreheads together.

“Deal.”

When you get back into your seat, rearranging your clothes and trying to look more presentable, Jack hums thoughtfully while pulling out of the parking lot.

“I can also take you to a little place nearby, quiet spot in the woods. I’ve got a blanket in the back I can put down in the trunk before I bend you over and eat your pussy until you’ve soaked my face.” Your heart and cunt spike at Jack’s wicked tongue curling around this fantasy. “Then when I’ve made you scream around my fingers - as loud as you like, no one will hear you - I’ll give you my cock and make you cum until you can barely walk. Maybe even let you ride this old cowboy so I can watch you bounce in the starlight. If I can keep my wits about me that is.” He shoots you a look, hunger and affection and desire and maybe something that can grow more than you ever dreamed.

You quirk an eyebrow back.

“Why not both?”

Jack smiles, and you realize how much you missed it.

“That’s my girl.”

END

#jack whiskey daniels x reader #jack daniels x female reader #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey x reader #whiskey x reader #jack daniels x you #kingsman fanfiction #lj's 500 follower celebration #prolix fics

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dont-f-with-moogles · 1 year ago

Note

Someone said smut prompts? Ho ho ho how about 16? ✨️

Smut Scribbles 16. “You taste so good.”

In The Empty Hours (NSFW-ish) Characters: Levi x Hange Modern AU Word Count: 1341 words

Too much of the night had elapsed to call it dusk; too little for it to be proclaimed dawn. Pale patches of sky were blotted by dark blooms of cloud like ink on paper. Below, where the rest of the city slept, drizzle soaked empty pavements. Flickering, neon lights glimmered in shallow puddles. Above where Hange was seated, the flimsy gable whipped under a sudden, rain-flecked gust. A cluster of plastic bottles and take-out containers were tossed into the gutter. Cloaked in a fine mist, the rain cleansed away all the sins of the previous day. Hange mused upon this gravely, the promise of a clean slate, as their hair sank damp and heavy upon their shoulders. Shifting around on their seat, Hange gazed over a low counter surrounded by tacky wall menus and faded images of deep-fried dishes. This establishment was little more than a hatch in the wall rather than an actual restaurant, but for twenty four hours a day it served questionable food and reasonably-priced drinks. For that reason it drew all the lost souls of the city; the ones who never slept but wasted the stretch of empty hours until sunrise. Reaching for their drink, they knocked back one last mouthful of cold beer before setting it back down amongst the glasses which cluttered the wooden bar. There was a hand on their waist. Levi Ackerman was helping them down from the stool, passing a handful of notes to the proprietor for his trouble.

Admittedly, Hange had lost count of the number of drinks he had bought them that night. The alcohol had spread through their veins like warm water, setting their cheeks aglow in the cool air. It had loosened their tongue and left them with a smile upon their lips. Although, admittedly this had less to do with the half a dozen bottles of beer they had consumed and more to do with the company. The pair of them had talked for hours, one playful snipe aimed after another. Conversation was a game to them both; a series of matches to determine who would have the last word. Only what had begun as friendly sparring quickly descended into provocation. Levi’s voice was as dark as smoke, drifting dangerously as he drew close enough to whisper in their ear. Intoxicated, Hange had leaned closer; Levi’s fingertips danced circles on the back of their hand, eyes cast down to their mouth. A foot leaning innocently against his ankle one moment had started to slide invitingly up the inside of his leg the next.

On the other side of the counter the manager had averted his eyes, rubbing at the same water spots with a dirty dishrag. Subtly, Levi’s fingers had threaded through theirs; his thumb tracing their knuckles, sending electricity shooting along their arm. He was so good-looking, he really needn’t have wasted any money on so much beer. Either way, the two of them were leaving together. There came another small shock as their noses touched. Anticipation sent Hange’s insides fluttering. Levi was so close now that his breath was grazing their mouth. As Hange closed the gap, he pulled away at the last minute. Tantalisingly, he lifted their hand and pressed a kiss to their open palm.

“We’re a little too exposed here, don’t you think?” he had remarked, eyes narrowed. Hange glanced over his shoulder, left and then right, taking in both ends of the empty street as they smiled to themself.

“Then it’s lucky for you that I live nearby.”

Lulled into a haze, Hange’s limbs were too heavy to move with any kind of grace. Instead, they were forced to cling to their new acquaintance as the pair of them traipsed along the narrow sidewalk together. In the distance, the call of sirens wailed and died. Voices rang out from several roads over, only to be answered with peals of echoing laughter. A far-off throb of music shook the earth several buildings away, sending residual tremors beneath their unsteady feet.

They swayed towards the road together, Levi’s arm slung around Hange’s neck. A car rolled into view, forcing Hange to pause in mid-stride with one foot lifted from the curb. Wobbling, they clung onto Levi’s waist.

“Whoa!” Hange laughed airily. Levi’s arm rested against the back of their neck, fingers entwined with theirs. “Don’t let me go, okay?”

Levi’s hand squeezed theirs in reply.

“Never.”

The two of them wound their way towards Hange’s apartment, Levi’s arm encircling their waist. His fingers grazed over their hip, thumb toying under the hem of their shirt. Hange stepped down a sidealley leaving the scents of fried chicken and the faint waft from the sewers behind them. Here the night air was cooler, carrying with it the tang of sea salt. Tower blocks leaned so close together that only a glow of artificial light filtered down, outlining the expanse of redbrick which stretched to dazzling heights above them. Air conditioning units dripped cold water into shimmering puddles below. Bolted doors loomed within shadowy recesses.

Levi’s shoe scraped against the pavement. Hange drew to a halt, expecting that he had lost his footing. Instead he pulled them into his arms.

Excitement exploded in the pit of Hange’s stomach as they felt the press of his lips against theirs. He broke away slowly, with a gentle pull upon their bottom lip. Parting only for a moment, they leaned in again. Each kiss was deep, sensitive, lingering - laced with hidden meaning. Each time they parted, in that brief second, the fire inside Hange reignited all over again as they yearned for the pressure of his lips. Turning their head, Hange felt his mouth open against theirs, tongue gliding across the back of their teeth.

With a jolt, Hange’s back slammed into cold metal. Their mouths, their hands ran all over each other; bodies obscured by the shadows which pooled from the recess. Levi’s tongue was cold from the beer. Addicted to his flavour, Hange’s fingers threaded through his hair, keeping his head in place. The sounds of the city faded on the wind, replaced with the rustle of Levi’s jacket; the gasp of quickening breath; the sounds of kissing.

But Levi had other designs on them. He eased his head away, dropping his lips to Hange’s jawline. Dark, damp hair swept featherlike across their cheek. With a sigh Hange’s head rolled back against the door, leaving the skin of their neck bare. Already a step ahead of them, Levi’s body covered theirs. Hot, open-mouthed kisses were pressed to Hange’s throat. A half-stifled moan only seemed to spur him on. His lips lingered on their neck, branding their skin until it was reddened and raw.

Hands reached underneath Hange’s shirt; Levi held them to him, fingertips stroking their back. Gently, he teased with the subtle grinding of his hips as he kissed the soft spot of skin beneath Hange’s ear. A delicious thrill ran through them, electrifying their very core. Hange’s leg slid up, knee crooked into his waist. He was hard against them, each movement sending whips of white-hot pleasure lashing through them. If this is how he could make them feel fully clothed… Hange couldn’t begin to imagine how well this man could fuck. Their apartment was so close, barely a two minute walk from the alleyway, but it seemed unlikely that either of them was going to make it there. Desperate for real friction, for the sensation of his warm skin against theirs, Hange’s hands moved down to his belt.

Levi pulled back long enough for Hange to draw in a ragged breath. A hand slid out from the material of their shirt to encircle their wrist.

“I find that the best meals are the ones where you savour every bite...” His eyes shone, their depths dark like the ocean floor. “...so if this is just for one night, then let’s make it last.” His mouth was tracing their jaw again.

“Besides, you taste so good…” Levi’s breath curled against their lips. “... I have to try every part of you.” ... Okay, okay so the reason this one is so long is that I shamelessly lifted it from a x reader oneshot I've been working on! Sorry but I've been pushed for time this week. Hope you enjoyed it anyway, Nube! ❤️

Go on, send me not so SFW Ask. You know you want tooo~ 👉 Smut Scribbles

#If I've accidentally left 'you'#Or 'Yokohama' in here #Let me know?#tw: alcohol #hange zoe #levi ackerman #levi x hange #levihan #Levihan smut #Sort of #Levihan drabble #attack on titan #aot #snk #n.sfw-ish #smut scribbles #my writing

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kervl-klear · 8 months ago

Note

🌹 for Angae

🌹 - They're lonely/missing home. What do they do?

…………………………………………………

There’s nothing out of ordinary at Rosemary station, Angae continues to do his work as usual. However, despite not having an episode, Angae is visibly more detached than usual.

This is the last day of the month. Since Rosemary is a top-secret facility, they have to manage all the finance and administration work themselves or they will risk having information about their spending and organizational structure leaked out when submitting info to the defense finance accounting service.

North capital is considering putting Angae out of commission and have other general replace him, which would end in his neutralization considering his position in national threat. Seoltang is a literal doormat at this point, so his authority won't mean much at North capital and Noeu is still being suspected of multiple cases of corruption, so Angae had to find a way to survive on his own. Everything had to be extra perfect, after all losing his job mean losing his life which also means that Angae won't be going home tonight.

Last night Angae dreamed that he’s back home at Tulip Island which dug up a thought he tried to ignore. It’s fascinating that he still misses his home intensely even after 20 years had passed and when this kind of thing happens, he would simply live his day normally until the thought fade.

Gripping his pen tightly, he tells himself to stay focused. If he has an episode now, he won’t be able to finish his work.

Suddenly the light in his entire room flash in Morse code.

[Want some help with your asset report Secretary?]

In an annoyance, Angae leave his office. He walks straight to the west part of his office where the hallway light-no, the light of the entire base flickered in other set of morse code.

[I'm here to help if you just say the word]

Angae arrived at the jail area where they temporary keep threats that they capture in Area 21 until the law enforcement come pick these people up.

The rosemary guard salute at Angae as he appoarch one of the jail cells.

Angae: "Excuse me Hongcha, can you stop playing with the light?"

There is no reply, Hongcha is too focused on messing with the wire he manages to dig out from the electric door that he doesn’t notice Angae. Through the gap between each cell bar, Angae reach to tap Hongcha on his shoulder.

Hongcha jolted in disgust but still try to play it cool.

Hongcha: “Hey secretary, you should thank me for helping you cleanse this base from many fatal security deficiencies”

He put the wire down, studying Angae's body language.

Hongcha: "The biggest intelligence facility in the country using simple AC for electrical route is pretty embarrassing you know?"

Angae: "This base was built before other option was invented. Regardless, can you stop breaking into my base? I have to announce a drop in security every time some of my men pause their patrol to deal with you"

This morning Hongcha attempted sneaking into B2 for an intel on some cases where citizens attempted to report that some of generals and executives SA them.

Hongcha: “Let me remind you that I am not on your side. Baegcha is the only one who agreed to join you guys, I’m not interested in your super villain alliance”

Angae: “To correct you, it’s a neutral mercenary corporation”

Hongcha sarcastically make a laughing sound…either that or he really did laugh but his stone-cold expression make thing confusing as usual.

Hongcha: “Yeah, whatever. But you do realize that keeping me here for too long might draw in some catastrophe, right? We all know he has no problem buried a couple thousand of your men with me in this basement”

Angae pout a little.

Angae: "The underground part of this base is strong enough to withstand air raid and if the entrance and exit are buried, we can always use communication to call for outside help. Beside he will not find you here because of the counterintelligence measure especially SIGNINT unless you call him here before you sneak in just in case you got caught, your plan is to escape while Orenji keep everyone busy and Orenji's air raid will destroy any trail leading to you"

Right at the end of Angae sentence an air raid siren alarm came to life. Angae facepalm.

Hongcha: "Awww, so you do remember my behavior pattern. Unlike a certain surgeon who claim to be helping me yet all he wants is for me to stop existing"

Angae: "You all are too predictable, if there's something you want you just go for it, no precaution or consideration"

Angae decide to drag Hongcha with him outside the station and order all soldiers on the ground floor to turn off the light.

Hongcha: "Hahaha, are you seriously using me as a hostage against myself right now?"

Angae: "If you don't want to die, you better corporate. The visibility is low today because of the fog so we should still be at advantage"

Hongcha: "I didn't poke much but I can tell you are about to have an episode; your eyes are darting like crazy, your shoulder is tense, and your lip is shaking, clearly you are reaching your limit, you can't use your camera because your men will see it and you are out of Risperidone because you didn't have enough time to visit Docs lately. Oh, wait maybe you are already having one..?"

Angae got chill down his spine starting to doubt if the fog in front of him is real and if he just makes a fool out of himself.

Hongcha: "Just messing with you, the fog is totally real"

Somewhere outside Area 21, Orenji is out conducting air traffic.

Orenji: "04 to D44A, stop fire. Enter FL010, head 67 at minute 15. CB10 request approved. 04 to D46A, descend to 50 feet, make 90 degrees turn then open fired at minute 24"

One of the invading fighter jets descend then make a sharp turn to the starboard and open fired in straight line, stopping the Rosemary soldier from leaving the station entrance.

Rosemary's anti-aircraft weapons fired some missile in retaliation.

Orenji: "04 to CB10, drop bomb at minute 50"

A bomber flies by above the missile. A bomb was released accurately right on top of the missiles that had target locked on the closest fighter jet to the facility and because of that, the fighter jet is now able to spot the location of anti-aircraft system.

Orenji: "04 to D46A, approved"

The fighter jet open fire at the anti-aircraft weapon, this prompted the air defense unit of Rosemary base to release their own aircraft for ariel defense.

Angae: "Negative! All pilots remained stationed, suspend all flight activity-"

Two aircrafts lifted off unannounced and went straight crashing right to the anti-aircraft station, a couple of strawberry scatters around as the aircraft explode. The confused Rosemary control tower report that the ground that their frequency was jammed and none of them are able to contact the pilots, it is as Angae fear.

Orenji had jammed the signal that the tower use, then pose himself to the pilot as the ATC from the tower they are in contact with then lead them to their demise. Position them at the angle where hearing anti-collision warning is equivalent to seeing 4 red PAPI during touch down. It's seemed that he too is at advantage with this level of visibility.

Hongcha: "Oh nice! These pilots appear to be on my stoplist, what a coincident!"

Hongcha is crossing names on his stoplist while whistling in which Angae look at him with disgusted expression and yes, 30% of the forest around the base are now currently on fire, clearly this had become a miniature active war site.

Angae vision started to flicker between hell on earth and rainbow flower field, he can feel that he also had to close his eyes longer each time to retain himself. He got to find a way to end this fast.

Angae told one of his men to go get him a Barret M82. At the moment an extraordinary powerful rifle could be a better approach compared to SAM that are not just a bigger target for fighter jet to strike back and easier to spot but also a more explosive one.

The soldier handed him what he asked, but they also have to report him that Angae had took the scope back home with him for a maintenance a couple of day ago and the scope of the other guns here won't fit the barrel. So much so for not making a fool out of himself-

And so, Angae asked his soldier to bring him myopia glasses and magnifying glass.

Decommissioning the aircraft with sniper gun is impossible as bullet can only travel at 2,600 km per hour and these jets fly at least 1,900 km per hour. But he knows how he can decommission its firearms. Also, he personally doesn't want any aircraft to crash here as it will become his base's responsibility to clean it. So he decided that he should go straight to confront Orenji head on.

Before getting close to Orenji though, Angae want to decommission a couple of his communication equipment but where could Orenji be hiding?

Suddenly a Hydrangea with two comedically huge petals spoke in Hongcha's voice.

Hongcha: “Oh man, if only there’s someone who had 5 years of experience in dealing with first generation Northland combat controller standing right next to you”

It appears that his vision had already switch and he is 100% in psychosis episode now as temporary closing his eyes don't make the vision inaccuracy go away, he won't have much time before the rifle in his hand turn into something else.

Hongcha probaly notice the puzzled look on his face hence asking for involment.

Angae: "I'm not returning your electronic equipments so you can hack into the North capital system and release a conventional war scale missile designed to sink a battleship"

Hongcha: "Come'on. Unlike Baegcha, I won't try to kill Orenji"

Angae sighed, Hongcha is indeed one people with the most information about Orenji and having him completely station here is indeed a waste of resources.

Angae: "Can you pinpoint Orenji's hiding spot?"

Hongcha: "Thought you'd never ask"

Suddenly the comedically large petals on Hydrangea start spinning at turbine speed, then it shoots a gigantic neon blue sausage into the sky. This led to Angae also notice that the fighter jets had turn into a wooden bird.

Alighting the magnifying glass at the right distance, Angae asked Hongcha to hold it still for him. Angae is very curious as to what his brain will interpretated a Hydrangea holding stuff but apparently, the magnify glass simply float in place.

Orenji statled as his radar goes out of commission followed by two of his duplex radios then the RF modulator, limiting his communication route.

Orenji: "D44A, D46A, CB10 return to base"

Orenji inspect his broken equipment, he hopes to fix it as soon as possible and may be ground jack one of the airliners just in case. But then he heard a subtle ruffle sound which prompt him to take his own pistol out.

The intruder fired at Orenji first in which he shoots back in retaliation, he would have D45A take care of the intruder for him however he had no idea where exactly this intruder is. More shot was fired and Orenji continued to shoot back.

While reloading his gun, Orenji hear a quiet thud sound on his left, he looks up from his gun in which he found Angae.

Angae's eyes are not exactly alight with where Orenji is, clearly mean that Angae can't see where Orenji is and is only listening to his radio. This greatly impress Orenji as this means that Angae recognized the type of his gun purely from the sound, he then precedes to count each shot and took the opportunity when Orenji is reloading his gun.

Angae look at the massive orange tree in front of him, each orange hanging on his branch talk over each other, reporting every single little thing they see. Angae is a bit nervous knowing what he's currently facing. Orenji doesn't sees a single thing on field, everything he know are from his radar and pilot reports.

Angae stare at the orange tree intensely, he didn't intend for Orenji to notice him. He doesn't even know if he's really holding guns right now, he just knows that it sounds correct when he squeezes it.

Both are at stalemate. Either the wooden bird shoot or Angae shoot.

Hongcha: "Orenji...."

Both were taken aback by the approaching Hydrangea that had now grow a pair of chicken feet. The Hydrangea and the Orange tree stay still in front of each other for a couple of second in awe, it's been 3 months since Orenji last saw Baegcha/Hongcha and it's been 6 months since Hongcha last saw Orenji.

Orenji: "Baegcha"

Unlike the rest of C2ISTAR, Orenji called both Baegcha and Hongcha "Baegcha", this is because Orenji want to call his significant other by their preferred name.

Angae can't quite tell what's going on but both plants seem to be giving some sign to each other, wrinkling and shuffling their leaves.

Orenji: "All is worth for ending your suffering Beagcha, I look forward to it. 04 to CV04, drop ladder at 13.68N 100.99E"

A wooden bird fly by then hover above them. One of Orange tree's branch reach out to the chain hanging from the wooden bird. It's seemed that Orenji had escaped with his aircraft.

Angae still doubt the situation. Beagcha/Hongcha was in front of him, but Orenji choose to escape instead of pressing on to putting his significant other out of misery as intended. It was an abnormal sight.

Both Hongcha and Baegcha stay to help Angae out with the bills and incident reports while Angae reorganizing the intelligence in the base. A couple of days later another box of money was drop in front of Angae's house. With a photo of the funeral held for the two Rosemary pilots, seem that Orenji paid for their funeral.

Hongcha: "Here's the conclusion report, are there anything else?"

Angae: "No, that is everything, I'll pardon your jail time as promised"

Finally, being in a less chaotic mindset. Angae now notice that he made mistake in his deduction and what happened is somewhat less obvious than he thought. Apparently Orenji, Beagcha and Hongcha can carry some discreet operation as well.

Angae: "Orenji was the one who paid you to break in here didn't he?"

Hongcha reply with silence.

Angae: "You two are trying to scare the other generals away from this base and you want North capital to think that they need me to fend you two off"

Angae look up from his computer only to find that the secret service was already gone. Angae make a small idiot smile, he definitely has the worse group of friends in this world. But this probably will be the closest things to the homesick pill he will ever get.

…………………………………………………

Thank you for your patience in the TFC circuit and thank you for tuning into my frequency. CVL2, RWY CLR. 🛫✨

#c2istar #my oc #my art #orenji #angae #hongcha #cw: sa #cw: death

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