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jazzyoranges · 10 months ago

Note

heyy i love how well written your works are, and i was wondering if there could be another tara carpenter x gp reader?? an enemies to lovers kinda thing, smut/fluff but it is totally up to you!! thankss❤️

All Mine

Tara Carpenter x gp!reader

Words: 2.8k

A/n: thank you!! also kind of a combination of this request and a prompt in this request

Warnings: reader has a penis, hate fuck? i think?, bottom!T, top!R, explicit sex, implication of breeding kink, teasing (lots of it), unprotected sex (your pullout game is weak), implication of alcohol consumption, no ghostface au

MINORS DNI!!

Tara hates three things in her life. You, hairless cats, and soggy bread. In that order too

She could handle hating hairless cats and soggy bread, but you? You were in Tara’s friend group. Tara hated you and to make matters worse, she was the only one that did

You were nerdy like Wes and Ethan, quick-witted and funny like Mindy and Amber, athletic like Chad, charismatic like Quinn, protective like Sam, and (allegedly) nice like Anika. You had nearly every one of her friends best traits, but Tara knew why she didn’t like you. You were really fucking annoying

Along with all of your positive traits, you were loud and obnoxiously social. Not that Tara was antisocial or anything, but god you were on a whole other level. It was mildly infuriating how you could go to a party you knew nobody at and somehow come out with more friends than you started with

All those people and you decided Tara was the one you’d annoy. A nudge to her shoulder made Tara look up from where she was putting her head down

“You look like shit” The brunette doesn’t respond and puts her head back down on the table

“Sam tase someone without your permission again?” Tara could practically hear the smirk in your voice

“Please for the love of god shut the fuck up. Your voice is the last thing I need to hear today”

“Woah, someone’s mad” You stick out your tongue in response at the glare Tara sends your way

“Suck my dick, (Y/n).”

“Don’t tempt me with a good time, Carpenter”

Tara abruptly leaves the lecture room. You think you really fucked up this time, but let out a breath of relief when you see that Tara didn’t grab her things. She was probably going to the bathroom to escape you. Which, who would ever want to escape you?

Apparently not Tara because she’s back in her seat just a few minutes before the lecture starts

“Aspirin?” You grab the bottle from a pocket in your bag, shaking it next to her

“You have Aspirin laying around?”

“Anika told me you were at a party, I figured it’s the least I could do”

“You’re trying to drug me, aren’t you?”

“If I was trying to drug you, I would’ve offered it to you at the end of class”

“Why weren’t you at the party?” Tara asks, taking the bottle from you hands and shaking out two tablets before downing them with some water

“Missed me?”

“Nope, just surprised you weren’t blackout drunk”

“Good to know you think highly of me. I was studying, thank you”

“You? Study?” Tara scoffs

“Don’t act like the idea is so out of this world”

“Right, because last time I remember you passing up a party was because your betta fish died and you forced all of us to have a funeral for him at the park”

“Trout’s death is not one to be made fun of!”

Before Tara can respond, the professor starts talking and the lesson begins. Unfortunately her head is still kind of throbbing with only mildly wanting to throw up. She had to accept she wasn’t going to get anything done until that Aspirin kicked in. Especially when she can feel you staring at her

The class goes as smoothly as it can and you notice Tara hasn’t made an effort to even try to take notes. The lesson eventually ends and when everyone gets up, the brunette begrudgingly does too

You bump your shoulders together and Tara glares at you with enough power you actually manage to feel fear for a split second until you realize it’s Tara. The girl was like two apples tall. Two and a half on a good day

The brunette doesn’t realize you were handing her a paper so you physically have to place it in her hand. Her eyebrows furrow in confusion

“What is this?”

“Notes, you need them”

“I’m not buying you Raising Canes if that’s what you want”

“Since I’m such a good friend, I’ll give it to you free of charge. Just make sure to bring it back with minimal damage”

“You’re not gonna make me Paypal you fifty bucks?” Tara doesn’t have any classes for the next few hours so you two made a point to walk to your next class. She didn’t know how it started, but you were okay to talk to when you weren’t being annoying

“In my defense, Trout recently died”

“We buried him in the fucking park, I don’t think that costs money”

“It was condolence money. I made everyone pay and I think it was pretty genius”

“I really do wonder how you still have friends”

//-//

Someone knocks on the door of you and Anika’s apartment. When you realize your roommate is probably listening to music that was too loud to be healthy, you get up from your very comfortable bed

You don’t remember ordering food and you’re pretty sure Anika didn’t invite Mindy over, so the person behind the door was probably just the nice old lady across the hall that made cookies for everyone

For better or for worse, you’re met with a Tara Carpenter that’s caught off guard when you open the door. Tara usually sees you in well put together outfits so you can only imagine her surprise when she sees you wearing boxers that outlined your cock and a hoodie that barely covered it up

“Eyes are up here- What brings you to the Mojo Dojo Casa House?”

“Can’t you just let me in?” Tara’s cheeks burn in embarrassment. Thank god you just glossed over… it

“It’s protocol you identify yourself and state why you’re here” You lean on the doorframe, actively blocking the entrance to your apartment. Tara knew this was a losing battle and hated how you looked hot while winning

“Anika and I have a project we need to work on”

“You didn’t identify yourself” you’re wearing that same dumbass smirk you have after telling a horrible joke

“Tara. Tara fucking Carpenter.”

“Unfortunately I don’t think we know any Tara Fucking Carpenters. Guess you can’t come in” you shrug

“God give me patience.” Tara rubs at her temples like you’re giving her a headache

“Isn’t it god give me strength?”

“If god gave me strength, you would be dead.”

“Point taken, but you still need a password”

“You didn’t say anything about a password!”

“Yeah, well, I don’t know if you’re the real Tara or not. Say a fact about me only the real Tara would know”

The brunette pretends to think for a moment, even putting her hand on her chin and looking off into the distance for effect. When she notices you’re starting to get suspicious of her antics Tara pushes you though the door, successfully getting in without a password or confirmation

You stumble back almost like a cartoon character and you can hear Tara let out a small laugh. You can see the dimples on her cheeks whe she tries to cover it up with her hand

“Nika, your friend’s here!” You lead Tara to Anika’s room, making sure to knock loudly while Tara’s busy either checking you out or trying to blow you up with her mind. It’s unclear, but you have to lean towards the latter

“Isn’t Tara your friend too?” Your roommate opens the door, headphones around her neck

“No.”

“Yes.” Both of you say in unison. The look you give each other is almost comical with how Tara’s glaring while you’re smiling. Anika stares blankly between you two and it eventually starts to make more sense

“Stop eye fucking each other, we have work to do” Anika pulls Tara into her room. You shrug, heading off to probably yell at ten year olds on Fortnite or something

“We were not eye fucking” the shorter girl huffs, sitting on Anika’s bed

“I literally opened my door and thought you two were about to make out”

“I didn’t expect to get interrogated when I came here!” Tara flops onto her back, covering her eyes and trying (and failing) to stop the red that dusted her cheeks

“Whatever, I’ll get you to crack later”

“Kill yourself.”

//-//

Tara doesn’t understand what she’s feeling when she sees some random girl grind against you

It’s like that one scene in Euphoria when Maddy and Nate stare each other down at the school dance, except you were looking far more more bored. That is, until you see Tara glaring at both of you

Like a switch turned on, you’re suddenly more interested in the girl. You encourage her grinding with a hand kneading her hip, using your other hand to take a sip of your drink. And just like Maddy, she’s tempted to find Chad to do the same to you. She doesn’t.

Tara fucking hated you. But she also needed you now.

Making you jealous would take too long. In theory she had the time, but her hunger to taste you was making her do things she would’ve never thought of before. One of those things being grabbing your hand and leading you away from any girl that tried to even look at you.

The girl who was grinding on you calls her a bitch among other things, but Tara knows it’s worth it when she sees you smile at her like she’s your entire world. Because she was your entire world

She leads you into an empty guest bedroom of the house, locking the door before getting close enough to you she can smell the alcohol in your breath

“What’s all this about, Tar?” You grin. Tara doesn’t know if she wants to kiss or slap that smirk right off of your annoying face

“You know what this is fucking about.”

“Do I? I think you should spell it out for me.”

“You know, I’ve had it with your attitude.” Tara jabs a finger at your chest, the back of your knees hitting the end of the bed. In one motion you sit down and bring Tara down with you. You make her sit on your cock

“Anyone ever tell you you’re fucking hot when you’re mad?” You smile, finding the blush on Tara’s cheeks absolutely adorable

“Only you.”

“Good. How about we keep it that way, baby?”

“You’re so annoying.” The brunette cups your face with both of her hands, your lips fitting together like they were always meant to

“I know I am” You say in between kisses, your hands finding their way up Tara’s shirt, kneading the spot right under her boob. She forces your hand to stimulate her nipple, eliciting a moan from her mouth

“You’re so pretty, Tar. I can’t believe only I get to see you get all hot and bothered” You smile breathlessly

“Fuck. S-Stop talking like that or you’ll make me like you” Biting a hickey on Tara’s neck, you take of her shirt and her bra in a flurry of heat

“I bet you’ll like me even more when you’re bouncing on my cock” You force Tara to grind on the bulge in your pants, earning you a small whimper that makes you smile

“C’mon, all you have to do is admit you like me and I’ll fuck you better than anyone has” It should be considered torture how much you were teasing Tara. You were biting hickeys on her neck, playing with her nipples, all while a few layers of fabric were the only barriers between your dick and her pussy. Fuck you knew how to overstimulate a girl

Laying Tara on on the bed, you could really tease the brunette better in this position. You can feel the Tara’s wetness through her soaked panties, and you’re sure she can feel the pre-cum leak out of your cock. Your hands are on her hips as if you were thrusting, yet you deny her and your pleasure for the sake of being an ass

“Don’t you want me to ruin you for anyone else? I promise I’ll stretch you out so good no other guys’ cock can fill you up like me.”

“Fuck you. I hate you, you’re s-such a fucking asshole, you know that?” Tara reaches for anything she can hold onto, your arms being the nearest thing

“I can think ways you could ‘hate’ me even more” You smile when Tara reaches to take off her panties but you find her hands first. You intertwine your hands together and the action is so soft Tara almost forgets about the situation she’s in. Almost

“Whenever I masturbate I think of you, did you know that? God, sometimes I have these hookups and all I can think about is you cumming around my cock”

Tara thinks it’s embarrassing how she’s about to cum just by your sickeningly sweet voice and the constant friction between you two. Tara also thinks she’d rather die than miss an opportunity of a lifetime.

Sure you were a cocky pain in the ass, but you were her cocky pain in the ass.

“Fuck- I admit it! I think you’re the hottest fucking person in the world. I like you.” Tara looks straight into your eyes, and the smile reserved only for her makes another appearance

“That wasn’t so hard, was it Tar?”

“I still hate you.” You unbuckle your belt and unbutton and unzip your jeans with watchful eyes. You pull down your boxers just enough so that your cock springs out, making Tara’s mouth water. Fuck you were big

Pulling Tara’s panties to the side, she’s dripping wet when you swipe your finger across her slit

“Fuck- (Y-Y/n)” Tara sings when you lick up her juices with your tongue. She buries her hands in your hair, bringing you closer to her dripping cunt. You moan at her taste and the vibrations are almost enough to get Tara to cum. Almost

You rise to your knees, lining up your dripping cock with the shorter girls dripping pussy. You decide to be evil and rub your dick against her slit before easing your tip into her hole. It was infuriating how slow you were going and Tara remembers why she hated you in the first place

Tara’s whining and whimpering under you and you can’t remember a time where you’ve been happier than in this moment

Tara on the other hand, has never hated you more in her life than in this moment

The younger Carpenter decides to be bold when she grabs your shirt and forces you forward. You’re caught off guard and over half of your cock finds itself nestled tightly in her pussy as you catch yourself with your arms

“Y-You’re sneaky, aren’t ‘cha” With your face so close to hers, Tara realizes you’re as much of a victim to your teasing as she is. She can tell it’s taking everything inside of you not to fuck her raw until your dick is limp and Tara’s legs are sore

“You can go fast. I can handle it, baby” Tara cups your face with her hand, stroking your cheek with such softness like you aren’t literally lodged into her cunt like a dog in heat

With that confirmation, you give Tara a peck on the lips and buck your hips in such a way you hit that spongey spot inside of her

The sound of skin slapping is louder than the blasting music downstairs, but your grunting and Tara’s moaning combined are louder than both. Thank god the owner of the house was your friend because you don’t know if you could come out of that room if this is what Tara sounded like

“Fuck- I’m close” You say a little too breathlessly for your liking

“Don’t p-pull out.” The shorter girl uses your shirt as leverage to keep you inside of her. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion

“T-Too messy, don’t feel like cleaning up.” Tara answers between moans like she can read your mind

The familiar heat you’re so used to finally snaps. Wrapping her legs around yours, you cum with almost a guttural whine. Your orgasm is enough for Tara to have hers and you fuck her through it, making sure none of your cum drips out of her hole

You pull out and a few dribbles of your semen flow out of her cunt. You plug her pussy with your fingers and Tara is far too sensitive to handle it

“D-Don’t tell me you’re tired already?” Tara jokes, but all air in her lungs leave when you let out a laugh of your own

“I’ve got all night, love.”

Tara has to remember to make you buy her a morning after pill.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #tara carpenter x reader #scream #tara carpenter #scream 6 #tara carpenter scream #mindy meeks martin #chad meeks martin #anika kayoko #samantha carpenter #quinn bailey #ethan bailey #wes hicks #amber freeman

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legendary-pink-dot · 5 months ago

Text

Please, Mr Postman

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader

Rating: 18+ Explicit

Warnings: Unprotected PiV sex, butt play, creampie, oral (f receiving), and lots of sex toys. No ages mentioned or alluded to. Reader is married. There are themes of infidelity, blackmail and stalking, but Reader is fully consenting and willing. Mailman Joel is a sleaze, consider youself duly warned.

Word Count: 4.3K (by far the longest thing I've ever written, whew)

Summary: Every morning at 9am sharp, you take your coffee to the front room and listen for his mail truck.

Notes: Poking my nose out of my hiatus hidey-hole to write this as a gift for my very very dear friend @magpiepills for the prompt "Stole your mail and uses it to sexually blackmail you mailman Joel". I love you, my sweet Bat. 💜 Giant thanks to @for-a-longlongtime for the last-minute rapid beta read. Much love to my sluts for cheerleading: @youandmeand5bucks @exquisiteserotonin @arcanefox207 @sparklefarts38 @redhotkitchen I have never written Joel before, so please be kind. Thank you and enjoy.

Please, Mr Postman - Joel Miller x f!reader

Every morning at 9am sharp, you take your coffee to the front room and listen for his mail truck. The squeak of the rusted brake pads as he parks at the end of the block is a melody, as distinctive to you now as the chimes of the classic ice cream trucks from your childhood, eliciting a Pavlovian response of salivating over the treats it held within.

Life was easy and carefree at that age. You didn't have responsibilities, grown-up worries, or this present burden of being a Stepford wife to a rich man who occasionally did some illegal activities. He was kind to you and you loved him, desired him even, but despite being a criminal he was boring. He was not the adventurous, filthy man in bed you secretly hoped for. But you knew things about his work that made it dangerous to leave, and financially he made sure you were kept comfortable enough to not want to tell. So you stayed. And here you were, marooned in a leafy suburb, stuck at home all day and fantasizing about the hot new mailman. What a cliche you've become.

The mailman's name was Joel. And he really did command attention.

Salt and pepper hair that curled around the edge of his blue cap. Dark brown eyes that showed a few flecks of amber the rare times you've seen them up close. A strong nose with a neatly trimmed mustache and gorgeous facial scruff. Large hands that could football-hold an entire package in each.

And speaking of packages: his looked prodigious. It looked obscene what he was carrying around in those standard issue United States Postal Service shorts. You dreamed about it at night -- how thick his cock must be and how you'd lick it like those sweet summer popsicle treats -- as your husband snored beside you after giving you one pitiful orgasm and then immediately coming himself and falling asleep.

You never thought anyone could be attractive in such a dumpy grey uniform, but somehow Joel found a way.

In the summer heat he always rolled up the edges of his pleated shorts, a thick pocket chain clacking along his meaty thigh. Light hair dusted his tanned legs. His black leather belt was cinched tight, further emphasizing his delicious bulge. The sleeves of his polo shirt were similarly rolled and showed off well-toned forearms from all the lifting and carrying. In short: he was a dream.

But you'd never go further than look. You loved your husband, for all his faults. You'd even placed a big order of sex toys last week in the hopes he'd be willing to spice things up in the bedroom. The tracking app says it's out for delivery, and right on cue, Joel comes walking up your driveway cradling a large cardboard box in his hands. Damn, he looks good today.

"Mornin', ma'am," he drawls politely. You think he winks at you, or maybe it's just the sun hitting his eyes. "Got a big one for you today."

You move to take it, but he shakes his head. "It's heavy. Let me put it inside for ya."

The thought of him being inside your home makes you tingle. You don't even think to consider that postal workers aren't supposed to go past a customer's front step.

You hold the door open and Joel stomps through, leaving bootprints of dirt on your "Home Sweet Home" welcome mat.

"Ma'am? Where d'ya want it?" He sounds amused, and you realize with a start that he's been standing in your entranceway for an awkward length of time. You'd been too busy ogling his legs, and more, in those rolled-up shorts. Was it your imagination, or was he not wearing underwear?

"On the coffee table, please." You lead him to the sitting room beside the entranceway. It's your happy place, your sanctuary, the spot you have your morning coffee in as you listen for the siren song of his mail truck.

Joel gently places the box on the coffee table and turns to you.

"I'll just wait here while you check that everythin's in order."

"What… what do you mean?" You feel your cheeks heat. Fortunately the box was nondescript, but it did give off a brown paper wrapping porn vibe.

"It's insured for $700. Must be some expensive stuff. 'S my job to write a report if anything's broken."

Nervous sweat starts beading down your back. "It… it's okay… I can report online if there's a problem…"

"'S no trouble. Let's just take a quick peek." Joel's already pulled his keychain ceramic boxknife out of his shorts, slitting the box open before you can say a word.

You stand there mortified and unable to speak as Joel opens the flaps, pushes aside the cushioning packets, and stares at the huge assortment of boxed sex toys.

"Well, well, darlin'. What do we have here?" His voice is a mixture of amusement and something deep and growling. Predatory.

Your face burns in embarrassment. "You… you can go now," you manage to squeak. "Please."

"Don't think so, sweetheart. Gotta check that everythin's in good working order." His boxknife shicks open the first product, a G-spot vibe from the looks of the box. Just before he can unwrap it, you find your voice. You hope you sound self-assured and assertive.

"That's enough. Please leave. My husband will be home any minute."

Joel smirks as he continues to rifle through the box. "Naw. He won't. Just did my route on Pine Street and saw him gettin' busy with that blonde divorcee in the cul-de-sac. Miz Perkins, wasn't it? Big tits."

It's a gut punch, and it makes you forget that this suddenly skeezy mailman is in your home and looking at your new collection of sex toys. An affair? He wouldn't. Not YOUR husband. Not your husband who rarely wants to do anything interesting in bed…

"Sorry, darlin." Joel pulls you out of your thoughts. "Fuck that guy. Wanna have some fun?" He pulls the vibe out of the box and waves it in front of you with a lopsided smirk.

This is too much to deal with. Your head is spinning, a mixture of emotions running through you. Including lust, incredibly enough. This mailman appears to be the take-charge dominant you wish your husband was.

"No. Like I said, you can leave now." You manage to say it firmer this time despite the gushing between your thighs. "Just go."

"Think I'll stay," he says, crossing the space between you in one step and pushing you backwards onto the sofa. "Don't want me reporting your ol' man to the authorities, now do ya?"

"Wha… what?"

He chuckles at your comically large-eyed look of shock. "Yeah, know all about it. Been readin' yer mail," he says matter-of-factly. "He's shit at covering his tracks. Who sends fake invoices through the mail? With his real address too. Amazin' he hasn't been caught yet."

"You've been reading our mail?! I should report you!" Who is this guy?

Joel looms menacingly over your prone figure. You didn't dare move. "Sure, darlin. Postal employees got a responsibility to report crime. I'll be fine," he smiles, leaning back a little, but not enough for you to escape. "But the Postmaster General don't take too kindly to mail fraud, or those aidin' and abettin'. That's a felony."

"But it's not a felony for a mailman to read people's mail?"

"Tell you what," he drawls, still in that matter-of-fact tone that should be so very wrong in this situation. He rifles through the box and pulls out a hot pink butt plug, wiggling it at you. "You're gonna let me try out some of these toys on ya, and I won't report him."

Blackmail shouldn't turn you on, shouldn't turn anyone on, but it does. You're only human, and besides, you definitely don't want to go to prison. You can't control your reaction as your upper half shrinks back into the sofa while your lower half stretches out towards Joel, the hem of your sundress hiking up like it has a mind of its own. He gives you a wolfish grin and rests a broad, heavy hand on your knee.

"Jus' what I thought, sweetheart. Seen you watchin' me out the window every mornin'. You been wantin' me to stuff your pretty little mailslot, haven't ya?"

A whimper escapes your throat. "Yes. Please," you whisper, thighs sticky between your panties and suddenly aching.

"Okay, honey. Gonna start easy with this lil' thing." He holds up a clit sucker, shaped like a penguin with a little pink bow around its neck, and switches it on to test it. It springs into life immediately. "Ah, great. Love how companies pre-charge things now-a-days."

How can he be so conversational about this? Does he blackmail all the married women in the neighbourhood? Well, maybe just the ones who have something to hide. Like you. You silently thank the heavens for sending you an attractive skeeze, at least. And Joel is so very, very attractive.

You spread your legs for him.

He ruches your sundress up your thighs and whistles appreciatively, the sound going straight to your core. "No panties? And gushin' out of that tight little snatch already? Didn't take ya for such a filthy girl."

"It's… it's hot out," you stammer, unable to think straight.

"About to get hotter," he smirks again, and damn that attitude is doing things for you. "You ready, sweetheart?"

You nod, and he keeps eye contact as he nestles your clit into the little penguin's mouth and switches it on.

Your back arches and you nearly scream out loud.

The sensation is warm, and there's no direct contact but it's like your clit is being gently suckled. You've never felt anything like it. It's only been three seconds and your hips are already squirming to chase more.

His hand presses lightly on your hip to give you something to brace against as he clicks the intensity button up a couple notches, and it's like waves upon waves of the absolute perfect pressure on your clit. The buildup in your core is so fast that you don't even realize you're coming until it's almost over. You also hadn't noticed that you'd grabbed his muscled forearm and sunk your nails into it, leaving little half-moon indentations in his tanned skin.

"That was… wow." Your gasps echo around the quiet sitting room. Joel doesn't say a word, just reverently watches your pussy pulse and gush out a few drops of slick. "Thanks." You wish it had lasted longer and were sad it was over. Oh well, a nice memory for the next time you think about Joel, or try out some of these toys with your husband.

You start to push your sundress down, assuming he'll leave now and half-grateful for it, but he grabs your shoulder and forces you back down into the pillows.

"Where you off to? I'm just gettin' started with you, darlin'."

"But…."

"But nothin'. Ain't done till I say so."

All you can do is stare at him, unsure if you should be angry, turned on, or plotting an escape.

He undoes his leather belt and slowly, threateningly, slides it out through the loops on his uniform shorts. "Don't make me use this, sweetheart. Gonna be a good girl for me now, ain't ya?" The depth and tone of his voice say he isn't joking.

You gulp, still tingly from your rapid orgasm. And ready for another one, you think as you make eye contact with Joel, feeling a bit bolder now. We're here, I let him do that much already, might as well go for it.…

The penguin gets discarded as Joel carelessly tosses it to the carpet and takes the hot pink butt plug out of the box again, running a finger along the curve of its long but slim length. "Hmmm. Pretty. This for you, or your husband?"

"Uh… me…"

"Ah, ah" he tuts. "You really are a nasty girl. You take one of these before?"

You shake your head, suddenly shy. You hadn't even wanted your husband to know about the butt plug, thinking he was so sexless that he'd be disgusted. Apparently not, if he's railing Ms Perkins with the big tits over on Pine Street.

"S'okay. Gonna slide it in real good for ya." While you shove a little sofa pillow under your hips, Joel combs through the box on the coffee table and pulls out a bottle of lube. He pops the cap and drizzles some over the plug, and you gulp again imagining it inside your ass. A faint scent of synthetic vanilla fills the air and for some reason it calms you, allowing you to relax your muscles as Joel slides the plug along your crack, rubbing and smearing the lube around your asshole.

"You like that?"

You do. You really do.

Your little moan spurs him on and he gently presses the generously lubed tip of the plug against your hole, just the teensiest bit. You look up at his face, that stupidly attractive face of a skeezy mailman who is sexually blackmailing you, and find yourself desperately wanting to feel his scruff on your inner thighs.

Apparently he's a mind reader, too. He smiles and lowers his head to your crotch, and licks your clit with his wide tongue at the same moment he presses a bit more of the plug into your ass. You nearly scream for the second time in minutes.

"That's it, honey," he breathes against your core, wiggling the tip of the plug in and out and hitting nerves you didn't even know existed back there, making your hips jump involuntarily. "Openin' up so nice for me."

A few more mind-numbing, distracting licks of your clit and the plug slides all the way in with a little pop. You're equal parts turned on and proud.

"Well, ain't that a pretty sight," Joel whistles appreciatively. He pulls up to sit back and just stares at you all spread out on the sofa with one leg hiked over the back, your sundress balled up over your stomach. He taps the pink flared base of the plug a few times like he's idly flicking away a cigarette. It wiggles inside you and you squirm and squeal. Actually squeal. You're still mad and weirded out and other things, but you're feeling too good to give up now and you're starting to not care how easily you're caving to this man.

"Lessee what other treats we got in here." He rifles through the box again. His face falls into a comical droop of sadness and he sighs loudly, holding up a little box marked 'Girth Extender Sleeve'.

"Oh, sweetheart. I'm so sorry." The condescension in his voice shouldn't turn you on this much. "Yer old man got a tiny dick? Not fuckin' you proper? No wonder you been starin' at me every day, desperate for a real man."

Before you can protest -- he's not tiny, I just wanted to spice things up, well okay maybe he could use a bit of help -- he unzips his uniform shorts and pulls out his hard cock, holding it at the base so you can take a good look. "Got a special delivery for ya, baby."

Yeah, Joel definitely doesn't need any artificial enhancement.

His cock is thick. Not super long, but probably one of the thickest you've seen, outside the few porn films you watched when you were younger and more uninhibited. There's foreskin covering what looks like a large mushroom head, and a prominent pulsing vein running up one side. It all looks delicious, and you unconsciously lick your lips as he smirks at how you take it all in.

"You want it real bad, dontcha?" He fists himself a few times, his foreskin sliding on the downstroke to give you a peek at the thick head. "Yeah, you sure do. Never knew I had such a little slut livin' on my route."

Shuffling forward, he grabs your thighs and spreads them wider. The head of his cock feels impossibly heavy as he slaps it on your clit, making you gush a little with every hit.

"Joel, will you… can you lick me again for a bit?" Your squeaky voice is impossibly needy and pathetic.

"Naw," he says, flicking the base of the butt plug again and making your hips jump. The plug was so comfortable that you'd already forgotten it was in there. "Gotta finish my route. Can't talk to customers with my face smellin' of pussy, ya know. I'm representin' the United States Postal Service out there."

"Oh, does the USPS regularly fuck its customers too?"

"Sure does, darlin'. Bends 'em over and gives it to 'em hard with the price hikes every year."

He roughly pulls you up and bends you over the sofa arm, positioning you like the personal little fuckdoll you are for him.

"Got the next best thing though." He slips on a tiny purple fingertip vibe, your free gift from the toy company for such a large order. With such thick fingers, it looks like he's wearing an upside-down Ring Pop. It gives a loud rumble when he switches it on, and he laughs as he tugs his shorts down over his thighs. "Cheap ass shit. Hope the battery lasts. But it don't take you long anyway, right sweetheart?" He reaches around your hips, lifts your sundress and presses the vibe straight on your bare clit without any preamble, and your hips slam backwards into his crotch as you scream again, his cock jostling the base of the butt plug and sending shockwaves both up and down your core at the same time.

"Yeah. Thought so."

Amid the mixed sensations suddenly comes a new one: the thick head of his cock slipping into your cunt as he swirls the vibe around your clit, not letting it rest in any one spot long enough for your liking.

"… Wait! No condom?"

"Naw. You're on the pill, right?" He doesn't wait for your answer, as if he already knows.

Normally you don't enjoy this position but you're too far gone now, pushing your hips back and encouraging him deeper in, more than wet enough from all the playing to take him in.

"Greedy little slut, ain't ya?" He feeds you another inch, pauses, then another, torturously slow as you stretch around his thickness. "Tight little snatch feels so good. Miz Perkins with the big tits probably don't feel this sweet." Joel demeaning your husband like this and throwing the adultery in your face should make you mad -- at both of them -- but it only turns you on more, beads of sweat dripping down your spine as he slides all the way in to the hilt, giving you a few moments of grace to adjust to the size of him.

One strap falls down your shoulder, letting your tit pop out of your sundress and he palms it roughly, giving it an exploratory squeeze. The finger vibe is still buzzing and he swipes it across your nipple, the nubby texture chafing just before the point of pain. "Nice. You like that? Let's add somethin'."

Mentholated 'arousal balm' was another of your free gifts, and not something you'd ever thought to try. Joel twists open the little tin and dips the finger vibe in it.

"That smells strong, do we have to?" Wooziness hits you as the peppermint smell goes straight up your nostrils.

"Like I said, baby, gotta make sure everythin' works. Else I gotta do a return," chides Joel, tossing the tiny tin on the floor. You watch it roll under the baseboard heater as he grabs your hips roughly and repositions you. "Real fucking pain, returns. Lotsa paperwork."

He brings the now-mentholated finger vibe back to your clit, and two seconds later it feels like your entire pussy is on fire.

Thank goodness he didn't put any on my a--

Joel moves the base of the butt plug aside and presses the finger vibe against your asshole.

The menthol soaks into your tender membranes and it's so, so cold and hot at the same time. Your brain melts along with it.

Everything is lit up now and you squirm as he slides his hardness back into your pussy and gives a few experimental thrusts. "Tight fuckin' snatch," he mutters, your walls clenching around him in time with his finger flicking at the plug, your entire lower half burning but not in a terrible way. "But could be tighter." He suddenly pulls his cock out and you whine, loudly and needily.

"Please, Joel."

"Please what, darlin'?"

"Put… put it back in? Please."

"All in good time. Gotta give those walls an extra little stamp."

You look over your shoulder to see him drizzling lube into the girth sleeve and slipping it onto his cock. He's already so thick that it's a tight fit, the soft tube slipping off a couple times before he finally stretches it enough so it can slide all the way on, pulling it down so his large head pokes out of the top. You clench involuntarily.

"Umm. That's not gonna fit."

"Sure it will, honey," he drawls. "Didn't think you could take that pretty little pink plug, right? And look at ya now."

He's got a point.

"Gonna stuff that little slot full to the brim and turn ya into a size queen. Open wide, baby."

He's merciless as he slides back inside, at a curved angle since you're turned slightly to brace both your hands against the back of the sofa. The extender is smooth and feels just like his skin, and you're powerless to resist the incredible feeling of the extra width. He was exactly right: you felt full. With the thick pressure in your cunt pushing against the plug in your ass, you felt more stuffed than you ever had in your life, and what's more your pussy is still burning from the menthol balm. It was overwhelming but also glorious. In that second you knew it would be impossible not to think of Joel next time your husband fucked you, even if he wore this toy. Stupid sexy blackmailing mailman.

Baby animals had more stability in their legs than you do right now, your thighs spasming uncontrollably as Joel palms the vibe around your clit while holding almost half your waist in the span of his other large paw. He fucks into you hard from behind until you're so close to coming you can taste it. With the extender, his cock is hitting spots inside you that you didn't even know you had. A heavy chain pops out of the neck of his polo shirt and hits your nape with a loud clank as he slams into you from behind, the cheap poly-rayon blend of his polo shirt chafing your shoulders in a delicious burn as his chest presses close against your back and his hips smack against your ass, jostling the butt plug with every thrust.

whirrrrrr goes the finger vibe as the tiny cheap battery dies, and he slaps your clit hard with the vibe one, two, three times and you come, yelling for the nth time since he left his bootprints on your welcome mat that morning. His grunts are loud and lewd as he fucks you through it, easing up only to make his thrusts shallower so he can reach a hand between you and gently pull out the butt plug with a little 'pop'. He tosses it and the finger vibe onto your pristine off-white carpet, not even bothering to aim for the opened box on the coffee table.

"So fuckin' tight," he wheezes hoarsely, "I gotta extra big load for ya," and he presses his hips so hard against your ass that you almost fall over the sofa arm, his voice faltering as he groans and you feel hot spurts of his come coating the inside of your pussy, as deep as he can put it.

You slump forward onto the sofa and he pulls out, both of you heaving. The fiery balm has mellowed to a gentle tingle and your core is pleasantly warm. Stretched out. Fucked out.

"Welp, gotta get back to my route." It's been only a minute and his matter-of-fact conversational tone has already returned. You peer over your shoulder and watch him pull his shorts back on, rolling up the hems and slicking his belt back into the loops, tucking his polo shirt back in with practiced efficiency.

"Will I see you again?" You hate how pathetic you sound, and you must be a real sight too, half naked with a sweaty rolled-up sundress stuck to your back, your ass still up in the air like you're waiting for him to stick it right back in and rail you again immediately.

"Oh, I'm sure we'll be seein' each other again real soon," he says smoothly.

As you stand up, knees a little weak, a drop of cum drips down your thighs. "Glad I'm on the pill," you mutter to yourself as you pat down your wrinkled sundress and pause at the mess of packaging and boxes littering your sitting room.

"About that, darlin'." Joel smiles, pausing by your front door. "Miz Perkins over on Pine Street orders sugar pills and well, you know, packages get mixed up sometimes on the route. Might wanna check you got the right pills."

Joel slams the door and the mail slot squeaks rhythmically as you stand there, horrified, listening to him whistle a jaunty tune as he walks down your driveway and back to his mail route.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #sleazy mailman Joel #pedro pascal character smut #joel miller fic

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n0tamused · 5 months ago

Note

Came across House of Dragons and kinda got invested then I saw you accept Jiyan requests so now I’m kinda thinking what a mixture of the two would be like….Jiyan with his own dragon riding in Westeros…Jiyan courting you despite protests from his court…Jiyan protecting his queen from anyone that tries to hurt her or his heirs…idk I am just a causal watcher I have no clue what’s actually going on in GoT and HoD tbh

A/n: I'm uploading this from my phone because I just can't wait to post this, so if there's formatting or grammar errors - rest assured, I'll do my best to get to it once I get on my laptop. Where do I begin though? 😭 My goodness, you couldn't have sent me a better idea than this one oml. I'm smooching you on the head istg, thank you so much for this request! And I hope you enjoy this jumbled ramble <3 I'd love to do more of this little au and I most definitely will, and for some other characters as well.

Contents: Jiyan x Reader, headcanons, you/yours, written with a F! Reader in mind, dragonrider reader and Jiyan, Game of Thrones/House of The Dragon universe, pregnancy, angst, happy ending, somewhat arranged marriage lol, tell me if there's anything else to tag.

-War had taken many noble houses to an early grave, leaving behind nothing but ghosts and ruin over the vast lands. The ones that remained standing were either the rich or the cruel. All except one.

-Jiyan, originally hailing from Jinzhou, and belonging to no noble or rich lineage. His mother was a notorious healer, and his father had long been lost to travels and war himself.

-He had joined the battles as a young green boy alongside his mother, moving beside the long columns of soldiers in their tattered armor and ringmail. All he could do was stare at them in wonder and question - Why do they spill so much blood? For what?

-There was no looming threat of the Others coming to claim their lives, it was just them - the people and the common folk, yet they fought each other like animals for a few extra inches of land or a few extra coppers in their liege lord's pocket.

-As much as Jiyan didn't wish to engage in the art of war and bloodshed and only wanted to heal and save, it became apparent, all too soon, that the way to survival and peace was through battle. Healing will get him nowhere, and if a good commander was not put at the front, it wouldn't matter how well he healed if two in three soldiers died, even after receiving his aid.

-The war changed him, hardened his heart and fortified his mind, until the healer he once was became only a distant memory. Spear replaced herbs, and instead of the tattered medic tunic he now donned armor and ringmail. A companion also joined his side after he ran into a deep cavern for safety during one particular battle. A large unclaimed dragon, which nearly took his head off now stood at his side like a mountain, guardian him day and night and heralding the doom of his enemies with a thunderous roar and loud snap of it's wings. The dragon was a beautiful pale green, with bronze horns and amber eyes with darker lines of green running over its back. It was a beauty as much as it was a beast. Men quickly took to respect him, and it became evident Jiyan’s person hid many talents besides that for medical aid and spear holding.

-The previous commander perished, another life taken by the savage ways of war, and Jiyan was appointed as the new commander by the soldiers after he rose to the occasion - having led them to success in war, as well as safety when the odds did not favor them.

-It was during his reign as the lead commander that the lands saw the end of the war. Blood was shed, yes, but not for naught.

-Upon his return to the central city, the throne was found vacant, the king slain along with his entire council. The word of it was that they were taken unawares from the seaside, and had no ways of defense, as all the manpower was at the front lines

-Jiyan came into his rule as king at a young age, far too soon, and yet despite all the doubt he had flourished quickly. Proving himself as an able and just ruler, unlike the ones that came before, his foundation as a commander giving him good wind in the back

-The city wasn't in good condition after the war, but in the years following Jiyan had sent many commands that would aid in its rebuilding

-Slowly, but surely, the common folk started to feel the dawn of a new age - summer has finally come.

-The one thing Jiyan has gladly forgotten about was marriage. As a king, it was expected of him to take a bride to be his queen, to have heirs and to start a new lineage that would, hopefully, carry better blood instead of the hot blood that sought destruction. It wasn't something he often thought about as other duties preoccupied him day in and day out. But it was neither something he was against.. Deep in his heart he would admit a thought of his own family did make him feel…alive. But how would that family fare in these conditions? With his status? This was nothing like his small village he grew up in, so the image he once had in his mind was no longer so clear.

-His mother was a person he'd eventually seek advice from regarding such tender subjects, earning himself a laugh occasionally, as his cluelessness was rather amusing. Where other Kings misused their power and gave commands as they saw fit, Jiyan exercised caution, and even sympathy for the bride he didn't even have yet.

-Eventually, a match was arranged, between him and a lady of a higher birth. His mother had met you before he did and vouched for your good character - but Jiyan remained nervous, vowing to keep his judgment and thoughts to himself until he met you himself.

-Your journey to the city was a long one, yet you entered the long and towering palace halls like a breath of fresh air. Keeping your lady wits about yourself and keeping your courtesies with you, you had quickly rubbed off on Jiyan. The wedding was still a matter of question, as Jiyan had insisted on giving you and your family the due time to explore the city and to see whether this was truly something they wanted to go through with. His compassion was answered in kind by many gifts sent from the city they hailed from, consisting of foreign fruits and vegetables to cattle and coins and silks.

-It was endearing. And the courtship between Jiyan and (Y/n) soon began, as the former began to make moves. He preferred to do so in some amounts of privacy, as the many eyes that followed him as King were uncomfortable and he swore he could never get used to them.

-This seemed to please and comfort his bride-to-be as well, and both of them would show their true colors. It was a rare thing for a royal match to be founded in love rather than simple responsibilities to make heirs, but it wasn't unheard of either.

-What they both had in common was that they were dragon riders. (Y/n)’s dragon was a stark comparison to his own with red scales and two pairs of black horns and dark amber eyes, the underside of the dragon’s wings being a shade of yellow that looked like gold under the sunlight. It was a terrifying dragon, arguably even more scary than his own mount.

-When no one was looking, the two would go down to the Dragon Pit and take their dragons to the skies, racing over the cities with one another or going over the seas to breathe the salty air. It was an escape from duty as well. The moment their dragons took to air, all status and responsibilities remained on the ground, and only the sky was the limit to their freedom.

-Jiyan relished in this freedom like a luxurious drink he could never tire of, and your laughter was a sound like no other.

-The dragons took to liking one another as well, and would dance in the air while the pair were seated on their backs, spinning and falling, and right before the ground came too close they'd pull away and take to the skies once more.

-The commonfolk took this as a good omen. The dragons ruled the skies again, and a good King was on the throne, with a good queen soon to join him.

-Jiyan would find himself inviting (Y/n) to his chambers in early mornings to break their fast together or late dinners to share their day with one another. It was as if the two were already married. And even that wasn't too far from coming true.

-The wedding was a big event. Tables and tents were set all the way out and around the keep as well as in the big ballroom inside. Although Jiyan would've preferred to keep the celebrations a modest one, the council insisted that this occasion warranted the eyes of everyone, the joy had to be shared. This once he gave in to their requests.

-Flower petals were thrown on them as they passed by the rows of commonfolk standing at the sides of the rode, him and his Queen riding at the back of an open carriage dragged by four horses, white and elegant with plumes in their manes. Everything was near perfect and out of a fairy tale.

-King and Queen would share their dance in the ballroom once they returned from the High Sept where they got married before the priest, sharing their first kiss - something Jiyan made sure to cover and hide to the best of his abilities by pulling your veil over both of your faces.

-The celebration lasted all the way into the eerie hours of the night. And both Jiyan and you were exhausted, and upon retiring to your shared bed chamber you simply collapsed onto the plush mattress.

-That night, Jiyan fell asleep with his lover in his arms, watching your soft breaths make your chest rise and fall in slow successions, his fingertips tracing the lines of your face and the skin of your back, until he couldn't resist the urge to sleep.

-This wasn't a life Jiyan asked for…but it was one he was glad for.

-Children came later. A lovely little daughter being the first to be born of the love from the King and Queen, bearing the signature feature of you. Jiyan was beyond happy.

-During the birth of his daughter he was in the city, conducting business over a new architecture project when news arrived that his Queen had gone into labor. It is believed he had never dropped a matter as quickly as he did that day, racing back to the keep and searching for his wife.

-Despite the protests of the midwives, he responded only to you, racing to your side and giving you comfort and encouragement if nothing else, welcoming the fruit of your shared love together. It was the first time Jiyan ever cried in front of anyone else. He had delegated some more of his duties to the others in favor of having the time to spend with his newborn and you, helping you recover from the birth.

-It wasn't rare to see Jiyan roaming the dark halls in the middle of the night to visit the kitchens for food for you, bringing back foods and snacks, whatever you wished, even the weird food cravings. Hell, sometimes he'd indulge in them alongside you. Once, during your first pregnancy you requested a big honeycomb, and it just happened Jiyan felt like a sweettooth that evening as well. That ended with you sharing quite a candid moment, lips sticky with honey with a waxy feel between your teeth as you tried not to laugh at one another.

-The second pregnancy was a boy, following two years after the daughter was born, and he came with a little more trouble. The new prince was quite a big baby, and the birth left you even more exhausted. A fever soon settled within you, greatly worrying Jiyan and the entire council. You could barely hold the boy to feed him without shaking, and the fever lasted for days.

-It was the scariest time of Jiyan’s life. Any moment spent away from you plunged a dagger into his heart that twisted itself further in. It pained him. And he nearly got sick himself from worry.

-There were maids around you constantly, when he couldn't assist you it was them that took care of you. His mother was close by as well, bringing you great herbal teas and green tea cakes and broths. The time for you was a blur, filled with uncomfortable heat of your body and sticky feelings of sweat.. does it ever end?

-It was as if the whe world was plunged into depression once you fell ill. Dark clouds corresponded with Jiyan’s bitter and grieving mood, and the dragons themselves were restless. In this time, the others, outside of his kingdom, saw it fit to attack and plunder the neighboring villages and cities.

-You had recovered enough to talk, but your days were still mostly spent by sleeping and eating.

-You could vaguely remember seeing Jiyan entering your chamber, holding your son for a short while before putting him back in his crib. A concerned look pinched his brows together, you could remember, as his gaze went to you.

- “My love?... Are you alright?” He'd ask as he kneeled by the side of your bed, taking your hand in both of his and kissing the knuckles that felt like they were ablaze underneath his lips. He was dressed in all armor, a sword at his hip. Why was he leaving?.. Where?

-It all seemed like a dream, an illusion borne from your illness, but it was real. He had a duty over the kingdom, and over you. Yet it pained him no less to leave the place he was closest to you. He had entrusted your care to his mother and the maids, and he had already bid farewell to your daughter. She had clung to him like a moss clings to a tree, asking him when he'd return.

-You couldn't give a reply, staring somewhere through him.

-Has the reign of peace perished so quickly?

-His dragon waited at the Dragonpits, and the troops were already marching out of the city gates when he took to fly over them, leading them to the front lines once more.

-You recovered in the following days, finding yourself alone - not literally, as there were maids and servants all flocking to you, but Jiyan wasn't there. His Hand sat the throne instead of him. And your children had grown significantly, as if years had passed instead of several days.

-Responsibilities choked you until you began to move, throwing yourself back into work and and duty. Your son was always at your hip or breast, making up for the time lost. And your daughter was always pulling at your skirts unless she was at her lessons.

-It was a restless period, and a terrifying one. The first letter you sent to Jiyan was met with an ecstatic response, him being overjoyed you were healthy again, yet he encouraged you to rest more.

-His other letters brought bitter news of losses and bloodshed and treason, but he reassured they were holding strong. You could only believe him.

-Months passed. Months. And a letter from Jiyan was yet to come in. It worried you. This everlasting silence, it was of more concern than the sorrowful letters.

-During one evening as you sat on one of the tall balconies of the palace, overlooking the city as your son cooed in your arms, you heard a shriek. One coming from your dragon in the Dragonpits. The dragon was as restless as you, her calls weren't foreign to hear, but this time her shriek was returned by a call of another.

-Your husband's dragon flew down from the murky clouds. The green dragon roared, splitting the sound mid air, earning another roar from your own dragon.

-Jiyan has returned.

-You’re unsure how you raced so quickly down to meet him, with a babe in your arms and not properly dressed either. Appearances didn't matter. Your husband's return did. He mattered.

-And once you saw one another, nothing else could hold you back from running into eachother’s arms, the baby carefully tucked between the two of you in a protective embrace as Jiyan kissed both of your heads, pressing his forehead against yours soon after, laughter shaking his shoulders and chest.

-He was sure he could cry right now, and seeing you shed tears of joy almost encouraged him.

-Jiyan knew he'd split the world in half if it meant keeping you whole and with him.

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lotusbxtch · 2 months ago

Text

Ocean's Gold - An Offering of Frith story

Pairing: Jack Daniels / Agent Whiskey x f!Reader Word Count: 6.4k Rating: Explicit - 18+ ADULTS ONLY, MDNI Frith Challenge god: Ægir

Summary: Jack Daniels, retired from the Statesmen, signs you on as the business partner for his new brewpub. Sparks fly, and you wonder if it could ever be more.

Tags/warnings: Tags/warnings: alcohol (beer) is a major part of the story, consumption of food & alcohol, a sprinkling of angst, fingering (f receiving), oral (f and m receiving), protected PIV, Jack is an absolute consent king & safe sex advocate, semi-public sex (1 scene), absolute tooth-rotting fluff (these two are SO CUTE). Reader has she/her pronouns and identifies as female, has a name (not including it yet to keep it a surprise!) and some backstory but otherwise there are no physical details included - it's you, darling! (psssst: 2 other P boys make a guest appearance!)

a/n: This is my (belated) entry for @perotovar's Offering of Frith Challenge. My P boy/Norse god combo was Jack Daniels & Ægir. This is actually my first time writing Jack! It was such a fun challenge, and although I was honestly initially scared that I bit off more than I could chew, I ended up loving what I've written. I hope you do too! (See the afterword for more details on Ægir and other nods to Norse mythology/traditions that I sprinkled in!) Thank you Erin for hosting this challenge, and @for-a-longlongtime for being my cheerleader, beta reader, and telling me over and over that I could do this! Moodboard by @perotovar, dividers by @saradika-graphics.

Just breathe, you got this.

You straighten out your outfit in the mirror in an attempt to quell your nerves. Dark jeans, espresso leather lace up boots, cropped well-worn Fleetwood Mac graphic tee, and your favorite blood red blazer. You swipe on a matching red lip, nod at yourself in the mirror, and leave your apartment to walk down to the brewery.

The 3 block-long walk gives you time to review what you learned about the business opportunity. Jack was a recently-retired government operative who inherited a large sum of money and wanted to use it to open a brewpub. A smart businessman already, he knew that in order for his brewpub to be successful - regardless of how good his beer was - he needed to have a damn good pub restaurant, too. Which is why you’re swinging open the brewpub’s doors on a mild fall evening, CV in hand: as it turns out, you were looking for your next culinary opportunity. After working in a number of prestigious kitchens, you itched for the opportunity to build something of your own, something homey that you could be proud of. This position is exactly the kind of project you hoped for.

You step into the building, the interior clearly unfinished, but with good structure to it - high vaulted ceilings, good natural lighting, and two levels. Three, if you count the brewery on the floor below you to the left, where you could see the tops of large brewing fermentation vessels.

“Hello?” you call out into the barebones building, looking around for signs of life.

“I’ll be there in a jiffy!” you hear from someone below you, presumably Jack. In a moment, you see him emerge from the staircase leading to the brewing area, and you feel your breath catch in your throat.

Holy hell, you didn’t know he was THIS hot.

Walking towards you was easily one of the most handsome men you’ve ever set eyes on. Tall, incredibly broad-shouldered, and golden-skinned, Jack sauntered up to you wearing a white t-shirt stretched across his chest, dark jeans, black Wellingtons, and a belt with - is that a whiskey flask buckle?

“Rán, I assume?” Jack broke into a wide smile, offering up his hand. You shook it firmly, reveling in the warmth of Jack’s hand and how it dwarfed yours. Keeping your eyes locked to Jack’s amber ones, you returned his smile and nodded.

“It’s so nice to meet you in person, Jack,” you said, taking another glance around the interior. “The place has good bones.”

“That is does,” Jack responds, looking around as well. “I have high hopes for this place. And you seemed like the perfect person to hook up with to get it done.”

Your eyes bug out for a moment before you can school your face, but the heat starts creeping up your neck anyway. I’m sure he didn’t mean it that way…

“Oh, hell,” Jack sputters, “That’s not what I meant! I… dagnabbit, I’m already blowing it…” He runs his hand through his dark brown waves, thoroughly embarrassed. “I meant to partner with. On this business venture.” Jack looked at you, face flushed, eyes pleading. You couldn’t help but let out the giggles coming from your chest.

“Hardly blown, but maybe we can have some of that beer you promised me and start over?” you suggest, tilting your head towards the brewery. Jack looked relieved and nodded in agreement.

“Follow me, darlin’, and I’ll take you to my mad scientist lab,” he says as he motions towards the staircase. Following his broad frame (good god, those shoulders are so wide) down the steps, you emerge in the brewery, the heart of the business. Gleaming stainless steel fermentation tanks tower above, the immaculate floor wet, looking recently sanitized. The smell of malted barley and herbaceous hops permeates the air, and the brewery area is compact yet efficient. Everything looks perfectly kempt, a testament to how much Jack cares about his beer. On a wall hook near the entrance hung a black leather jacket and a black Stetson cowboy hat. You notice a small farmhouse table set up nearby the office area with two glasses set atop.

He set this up just for us?

Your eyes meet Jack’s, your mouth a bit ajar, and he smirks, pulling out a chair for you like a real southern gentleman. “Think I wouldn’t pull out all the stops for my hopefully-soon-to-be business partner?” You sit, and he walks to the carbonation room to fetch his brew of choice. Returning with the deep brown glass growler, Jack raises it towards you in offering. You nod, pushing your glass closer and he pours the liquid within out. A pale golden beer flows into your glass, creamy foam gathering on the surface. He pours himself some, then sits down at the other end of the table.

“This is somethin’ I’ve been workin’ on for the grand openin’,” he explains, motioning to the beer. “It’s a farmhouse ale, what’s usually referred to as a saison. I’m callin’ it Ocean’s Gold. I want it to be the flagship brew. Please, try it and let me know what you think.” Your eyes flick to the glasses, and then with a small smile, you bring it up to your lips and drink. The beer is full-bodied, malty but light, with citrus and peppery notes dancing across your tongue. The finish is dry, resulting in a beer that’s incredibly drinkable and refreshing.

“Holy cow, Jack,” you breathe out, astounded at his skills. “That’s so delicious. You’re one hell of a brewmaster.”

Jack chuckles, grinning warmly. “Why thank you, sugar,” he croons, making the heat rise up the back of your neck again. Damn those Southern nicknames, you think to yourself, willing your nerves to calm. “Hopefully I’m as good of a brewer as you are a chef. I’ve been askin’ around, and word on the street is that you’re one of the best and hardest working chefs people have worked with.”

“Well, that’s high praise,” you reply, “but I’m glad to hear it. I pride myself on my work ethic and food is my first love, as it seems like brewing is for you. What sort of place do you want the brewpub to be?”

Jack contemplates his answer. You see his face get more serious, but nothing but passion shines from his eyes when they lift to yours. “First and foremost, aside from serving up the best beer this side of the Rockies, I want this place to be ingrained in the community.” You sip your beer as Jack continues. “This place has given me so much, and I want to give back. I want a place where everyone feels welcome, ya know? Whether they want to share a pint with a friend, get a bite to eat with loved ones, or meet new people who share their love of good food and beer, I want them to feel at home.”

A wistful look passes over Jack’s face, and he pauses to meet your eyes again. “Now, I don’t wanna overload you with too many details, but this part is pretty important to me, and I wanna make sure that whatever business partner I end up with is on the same page.” You nod, encouraging him to continue. “Now, when I was growing up, my family didn’t have the most to live on. A lot of times we went hungry, and it was only through the kindness of strangers that we got to eat then. I have this idea for a ‘pay it forward’ type meal program. Folks can come in, pay $5, $10 for a prepaid meal ticket. We’d put those paid vouchers up somewhere and if someone is hungry and doesn’t have the money to pay, they can take one of those vouchers and we’d give ‘em a hearty meal, free of charge.”

Jack takes a breath and closes his eyes for a moment, then looks back over at you. You can feel your heart ache for this man who clearly had to work hard to be where he’s at, now wanting to share his wealth with those less fortunate than him. You try to swallow the lump in your throat.

“Jack, that’s… incredible,” you finally get out. This degree of selflessness wasn’t common in business owners in the circles you existed in. “I’d be honored to help you make that dream a reality.”

“Is that you sayin’ you’ll saddle up with me, sugar?” Jack looks at you with hope in his eyes. Your heart leaps, and you try to calm it down as you nod affirmatively. This is a business deal, your brain warns your heart. It beats fast anyway.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Jack beams, excitement rippling off his body. “Can’t wait to build this place up together.”

You grab the growler and fill your and Jack’s glasses, raising yours to his. “Cheers to a fruitful new partnership.” Your smile reflects Jack’s, and you both drink up.

The next 9 months are a whirlwind of activity. After your official business documents were drawn up and signed, you and Jack worked night and day to get the brewpub ready for the following summer. You designed the interior, fitting the place with warm dark wood and brassy golden fixtures. Chic firepits dotted the outdoor patio in the back. You included subtle oceanic iconography wherever you could – the sea was a huge inspiration for the both of you. Jack worked tirelessly on a signature lineup of beer, as well as a couple of seasonal offerings to add variety. Meanwhile, you toiled in the kitchen, experimenting with flavor profiles and dishes until you’d perfected your menu. You laughed and joked as you worked together, getting to know each other’s backstories as well as each other’s preferred workstyles. You talked and dreamed, debated and sometimes argued - after all, both of you were stubborn - but always worked things out. You kept him on his toes, and he kept you grounded.

Oftentimes, you and Jack used each other as taste testers, knowing the both of you would give honest feedback. On one particular evening in the late winter, you were sitting at the half-finished bar, sipping on a trial seasonal amber ale that Jack fermented in whiskey barrels.

“I never asked you where you got your name from, darlin’,” Jack mused, taking a gulp of his beer afterwards. “It’s quite unusual.”

“Ahh yes,” you responded, a smirk turning up your lips. “That would be thanks to my literary professor grandmother. She specialized in studying mythology texts from around the globe. Rán is the Norse sea goddess of death.” You saw Jack’s eyebrows twitch upwards in surprise, and you chuckled a bit before continuing. “That sounds intense, but she is also seen as the caretaker of those who die at sea. She helps care for them until they are ready to move on to the next realm. My grandmother wanted me to be tough, suffer no fools, but to also be kind and care for those that need it.”

Jack huffs in amusement. “Sounds just like you. She did a good job with that name.”

You smile, swirling your glass in thought. You look up at him, but his warm chocolate eyes are already on you, a flicker of something in them that makes your heart skip a beat.

“Jack?” you start. “There’s something I wanted to ask you about the ‘giving back’ part of the business.” You take a deep breath, your true passion project in your mind. “A long time ago, when I was much younger and just starting my culinary journey, I worked at an assisted living home, specifically for those with Alzheimer’s disease. It paid terribly, but I got a lot of experience in preparing food in a foodservice setting. It also deeply affected me. You don’t realize how important food is to people. Sometimes family members would ask if we could put something special on the menu, a dish their loved one used to make or loved to eat, to see if they would remember. We wouldn’t make any promises, but I’d always remember which request was from which family. When we were able to accommodate those requests, I’d see these people whose minds… for lack of a better term, seemed to be proverbially lost at sea… but they took one bite of their favorite food, and their whole face lit up. Sometimes it was simply enjoying the food, but other times it would trigger fond memories.”

Your eyes began to water, and Jack reached across the table and grabbed your hand, gently stroking his thumb across the top. You swallowed, continuing. “I hated that I had to leave that place, but my career wouldn’t go anywhere if I didn’t, and the money wasn’t nearly enough to pay the bills. I always thought, if I was in a place where I could give back, I would love to donate my time and supplies to cook for people like that again.” You look into Jack’s eyes, a swirl of emotions in yours. “Do you think… we could maybe do that with the brewpub? Take a day off every month or so to cook for an Alzheimer’s assisted living home?”

Jack squeezed your hand. “Of course, sugar. It means a lot to you, and it’s helpin’ the community. I couldn’t think of a more worthy cause.”

A tear slipped down your face as you smiled and mouthed “thank you” at him. But your breath caught in your throat when Jack reached up to tenderly wipe away the tear from your cheek. You stare at each other, a charge running through the air.

Kiss him, your heart whispers.

But instead, you clear your throat, squeeze his hand and throw on a grin. “I’d love some more of that ale if you got any more.”

Jack smiles softly. “For you? No charge.” You both giggle as he goes to grab another pint for you.

He’s just a business partner, your brain reminds you. But he’s become more than that, you realize.

A friend. A partner in dreams.

Maybe more, says your heart.

A few months later, the brewpub is bustling.

With the support of some of your industry friends - and your and Jack’s hard work - The Gilded Wave opens with a bang. Business is booming; the restaurant is constantly busy, and Jack is so swamped with the microbrewery that he had to hire two additional assistant brewmasters to keep up with demand. You are speaking to your front-of-house manager when two very familiar faces burst through the front door.

Your face lights up. “Pero! Ez! What are you guys doing here?” you exclaim as they wrap you up in a bear hug. You squeal as they lift you into the air with ease.

“We heard through the ever-whisperin’ grapevine that our sweet Birdie built her very own nest and we just had to come see for ourselves,” Ezra drawls, his characteristically charismatic smirk alighting his face while he takes in the brewpub. “What a perfectly festooned establishment you got here! I sure do hope the fine provisions match the opulence of the aesthetics!”

You shake your head, giggling at Ezra’s always-fanciful dialogue, as Pero rolls his eyes at his companion. “It’s lovely to see you, hermosa,” he rumbles, kissing your cheek.

“I missed you both so much! Wanna sit at the bar and I can set you two up with some beer & food?” you offer.

“That would be fabulous, Birdie!” Ezra exclaims, clapping his hands together. “I am in need of libations like an earthworm in the midday sun.” The two men plunk themselves down at the bar, and you turn to your bartender.

“Eddie, do you mind sending in an order of garlic fries and crispy artichoke hearts for these two gentlemen?” Eddie nods and starts punching in the order in the system. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Jack coming up from the brewery stairs, wiping his brow after checking on the brewing. “Jack! Come meet some friends.”

Jack grins, loping up the rest of the stairs. He swaggers up to the bar, looking at you expectantly.

“Jack, this is Ezra and Pero. We worked together in a bunch of restaurants over the last few years.” Jack smiles widely, shaking the hand of each man and exchanging greetings.

“Guys,” you say, “this is my business partner Jack. He’s the brilliant brewmaster keeping this place busy.”

“Aww, shucks, sugar,” Jack guffaws, “this place ain’t what it is without your excellent food. Only so long a man can survive on beer before he needs to eat. And what an incredible menu it is!”

You feel your cheeks heat with the compliment. “Jeez, don’t make me soft in front of these two. I’ll never hear the end of it!” You punch Jack in the shoulder playfully, and your friends snort.

“Rán? Soft? No way, only if she really likes you,” Pero gruffs with a laugh. “She used to make grown men cry when they’d try to start shit with her.”

You turned to Jack with a smirk. “I told you I suffer no fools.”

Jack puts his hands in the air playfully in mock surrender. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.” He turns to Pero and Ezra. “Would you two like to act as my beer guinea pigs for a moment? I have a new winter ale that I’m looking to perfect before the season hits us.” Your friends nod in agreement and thanks, and Jack turns to the bar, pouring from an unmarked tap that he keeps just for his trial brews. He slides the taster glasses to Ezra and Pero, and your friends sip in contemplation.

Ezra immediately starts speaking, as per usual. “Why, Jack, that is one of the finest ales I’ve ever had in my many turns around this here planet! The spice notes, they’re so unique! Is that coriander and ginger I’m picking up?” He sips again before Jack can speak. “Maybe some citrus?”

“Mighty fine palette you have there,” Jack responds. “It’s a white ale I’ve spiked with coriander, ginger, and orange peel. Gives that warm holiday feeling.”

Pero nods, eyebrows raised. “Now that, amigo, is a good beer.” He raises his taster in salute, then downs the rest.

You giggle and slap his hand. “Tovar! You’re supposed to savor it!” Pero only shrugs.

“It’s quite alright,” Jack chuckles. “They can each have a full pint with all the compliments they’ve lathered me up with.” You roll your eyes at your friends, and rub Jack’s shoulder in a “thank you” gesture. Pero clocks the move, and raises his eyebrows in question. You silently beg him to not ask anything.

Jack places two pints of the white ale in front of the men. “Well, fellas, thanks for coming in. I have to go back down to the beer lab now that I know this winter recipe is locked in. It’s been great meeting the two of you, and I hope to see y’all around again!”

Pero and Ezra bade farewell to Jack, who disappeared back down the stairs just as the fries and artichokes arrived to the two of them. Both men dug in, nearly moaning in pleasure at the food.

“Birdie, this is incredible,” Ezra exclaims, dunking a fried artichoke into the aioli. Pero nods in agreement.

“Thanks, guys,” you coo, pleased that two of your longest friends approved of your menu. The three of you are silent for a moment, a rare occurrence when around Ezra.

“So what’s with you and Jack?” Pero asks bluntly. You nearly choke on the garlic fry you swiped from the basket. Ezra giggles into the artichokes.

“Nothing is going on,” you stammer, coughing slightly. “He’s my business partner.”

“Hermosa, I know you well, and you’ve never rubbed my shoulder like that,” Pero levels.

“I will say,” adds Ezra, “I could detect a certain… aura around you when Jack came upstairs. I have also never experienced that around you.”

“Guys, we are business partners,” you assert. “We just got close ‘cause of how intertwined our work is.”

“Yeah, I’m sure there was some intertwining happening…” Pero mutters, and you slap him upside the head. Ezra titters uncontrollably.

“Alright, Birdie,” Ezra relents, “we’ll leave you alone about handsome Mr. Jack for now. But his winter ale did alight some thoughts in my head about a certain gathering…”

You groan. “Ez… we just opened up not that long ago. I can’t in good conscience ask Jack to let our ragtag group of friends take over the brewpub for our yearly winter debauchery.”

“But what if we profusely pledge to be on our most upstanding deportment?” Ezra begs, batting his eyelashes comically while putting on his best puppy face.

Pero snorts. “Fat chance at that. But I do like the idea.” He turns to you, raising an eyebrow.

You stare at them for a few moments more, and then your resolve crumbles. “Alright, you two hooligans, I’ll ask. But NO promises, okay?” Ezra cheers and wraps you in a tight hug, while Pero gruffs in agreement and stuffs a handful of fries in his mouth.

Surprisingly (or not so surprisingly, as he is so sweet and accommodating), Jack is enthusiastic about hosting your friend group’s annual winter party, saying how excited he was to meet your friends. You and Ezra planned for weeks, and Pero came through to help you and Jack decorate the place. The warm wood is hung with pine and holly garlands, twinkling string lights criss-cross along the walls and ceilings, and pine cones are tucked into various corners of the space. A yule tree sparkled in an alcove, decorated in reg, green, and gold. And you made sure to pin up a few sprigs of mistletoe, one of your favorite traditions of the season. Back at your apartment, you slip on a sumptuous golden silk dress that clings in all the right places and flows beautifully to show off your figure, and strap on matching gold heels. Swiping on the same crimson lipstick you wore when you met Jack as a finishing touch, you smooth your outfit and walk back to the pub.

Soon enough, your friends began to pour into the space, bringing with them various foods and drinks. Jack made a special batch of wassail for the occasion, and Ezra dramatically waxes poetic about how good it is while Pero rolls his eyes at him, as usual, in the corner. The space fills with laughter, clinking glasses, and the smell of delicious food. You and Jack act as the gracious hosts, making sure no one’s glasses are empty and all the plates are full. As you’d hoped and prayed, Jack gets along amazingly well with every single one of your friends. He jokes and roasts; listens intently and carefully to people’s stories. He extends a warmth and familiarity to all, and more than once you get nudged suggestively, eyebrows wiggling and giggles whispered into your ear about how wonderfully well you and Jack work together. You flush with heat every time, and it’s hard to deny the chemistry between the two of you. Beyond being fantastic business partners, you admire Jack’s adeptness, his dogged cleverness, and most of all, his heart. Jack’s got one of the biggest hearts you’ve ever come across.

And, even if you fight it, you realize that Jack’s worked his way into your heart, too. All night you’ve been exchanging charged glances, sly smiles, little winks here and there. Jack places a warm hand on the small of your back while passing you. You press your body subconsciously against his while reaching for another glass. Fingertips brush, sparks fly.

By the time your friends trickle out into the night, merry and full, the heat between the two of you is palpable.

You’re cleaning up the bar area when Jack approaches you, two glasses of wassail in his hands. “Outstanding shindig you threw, darlin’,” he observes, passing you a glass. You clink your cup against his and take a sip, savoring the way the ale, sweet honey, and spices swirl across your tongue.

“We threw the party, Jack,” you correct. “You were just as good of a host as me, if not better.”

Jack smirks. “Well, it’s easy when you have such fun friends.”

“They are fun for sure, although I was worried they’d be a bit… much,” you admit.

“Pfft, I’m used to dealing with strong personalities,” he scoffs, nudging you pointedly. You roll your eyes but your grin remains, and you scoot closer to him, pressing the side of your body against his. You both lean against the bar, facing the interior of the brewpub, admiring where your hard work has taken you.

“Can you believe this place is real?” you muse, sipping again. Your eyes roam the space above you, when you stop and smile to yourself.

“Yes, I remember you waltzing into this place when it was nothing but concrete and pipes and my brewing equipment, a pretty thing with red lips and determination,” Jack reminisces, ignorant of what you’ve spotted.

Your heart skips a beat. Pretty.

“Oh yeah, cowboy? ‘A pretty thing’?” you purr, turning slightly to face him, your red lips pursed in amusement. Jack looks slightly hesitant, worried he crossed a line, until you point upwards and his eyes follow.

A sparkling sprig of mistletoe hangs between the two of you, above your heads. He meets your eyes again, all hesitation gone.

“Are you gonna just stare, or are you gonna respect tradition and kiss this ‘pretty thing’?” you whisper, your lips curled flirtatiously.

A smirk spreads across Jack’s face. “I thought you’d never ask, sugar.” And with that, he pulls you into his body and your lips connect.

It’s a slow, sensual kiss when it starts. Jack is gentle, all brushes of the lips, presses and caresses of your body. You lean into him, feeling your nipples press against his dark button up while he cups the back of your head tenderly. A small whimper escapes your lips, and Jack pulls back with concern.

“Is this still okay?” he murmurs, rubbing your cheeks with his thumbs. You don’t answer with words, you just nod and pull him into another kiss, gently biting his plush lower lip. Jack moans gruffly, sliding his hands down the lines of your body, pausing to cup and squeeze your silk-covered ass. You feel wetness start to gather at your entrance, your arousal rocketing by the second as your kisses get more and more impassioned. Jack trails wet kisses down your neck, licking at your pulse point and right behind your ear, ripping another whimper from your chest.

“Sugar, I need to taste you so badly,” Jack groans into the junction of your neck and shoulder, biting softly.

“Please, Jack,” you breathe out, and Jack lifts you onto the bar counter, rucking your dress up. You spread your legs, helping to pull the golden silk out of the way. Jack pauses, then another smirk blooms on his lips; he takes his black Stetson off his head and places it onto yours in a quiet act of possession. You pant while you watch Jack pull up a barstool in front of you. Seating himself, he spreads you even wider, his eyes glittering with desire when he sets his eyes on your glistening center. You didn’t wear any panties, and he groans at the realization.

“Fuck, you’re prettier than a picture, honey,” he rumbles, tracing his large warm hands up your inner thighs, triggering more slick to seep out of you. Using his thumb, Jack spreads your wetness around your folds, and you inhale sharply, whimpering again. When Jack spies the pearl of your clit, he runs his thumb across it slowly, encouraging it to harden.

“So fucking pretty,” Jack murmurs to himself, thumbing your clit again and reveling in the twitch of your thighs as he does. He leans down and runs the flat of his tongue across your entire pussy, from bottom to top, swirling around your clit deliciously slowly. Wanton moans snake their way from your throat. You grip Jack’s hair, keeping his face pressed against your most intimate parts. He groans into your folds, devouring you like a man starved, as you whine and whimper and shake for him. He’s observant, noticing when your body twitches and your cries pitch higher, using that information to bring you to the simmering cusp of your orgasm.

“Come for me, darlin’,” Jack pleads, slicking up two fingers and sliding them inside you, your pussy gripping him tightly. You throw your head back, legs shaking from the intensity, when he reaches a spot deep in you.

With a few more pressured strokes of his fingers and a gentle suck of his mouth on your clit, you shatter around him, cunt clenching and dripping onto his fingers.

“That’s it, such a good girl coming for me when I ask,” Jack coos, his fingers continuing to work you through your orgasm, squelching from your release. Your moans are music to his ears, rapidly hardening his cock. Once you recover a bit, Jack slips his fingers into his mouth right before your eyes, growling quietly at the taste.

“Sweeter than honey,” he grits out, swooping in for a kiss, your own taste lingering on his lips and making you moan yet again.

“Jack, I need you inside me,” you beg between fevered kisses. Jack pulls away to meet your eyes.

“I don’t want to fuck you here,” he explains. “Can we go to your place? I want to lay you out, fuck you proper like you deserve.”

“Yes, of course,” you breathe, and he slaps your ass lightly before helping you off of the counter. You giggle, wobbling slightly in the aftermath of your pleasure. Jack helps right you and wraps a steadying arm around your shoulders while the two of you walk the three blocks to your apartment.

As soon as you enter the door, Jack is on you again, grinding his clothed cock into you and kissing you deeply. You walk the two of you backwards to your bedroom, clothing and shoes coming off between lips locking and hands groping, exploring. Both naked, you climb onto your bed, Jack following. Your legs fall open, and Jack can’t help himself from lunging forward to lick at your drenched pussy at the first sight of your slick lips parting. A whine hitches from your lungs, and Jack pulls back, shifting up to kiss you deeply again. Tongues tangle, lips are bitten, breathless moans exchanged. He pulls back again as you chase his lips, but he stops you.

“Hold your horses, sweetheart. Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks, eyes shining with both hope and concern. “I don’t want you to move faster than you’re ready for.”

Your heart clenches at the display of care and consent. A smile lights your face as you respond, “Yes. I’ve been wanting this for ages… I was just too scared to be wrong about you feeling the same way for me and ruining an amazing business partnership. I’ve been dreaming of you in my bed for months, and now that I have you here, I’m not going to let you get away so fast.”

Jack’s eyes light up, and he presses a soft kiss to your forehead before getting off the bed. He rummages through his pants briefly until he pulls a gold foil square from his wallet.

“I’ve got a golden ticket here for you, darlin’, but I want you to know that I get tested regularly and that I’m clean,” Jack informs you, a smile warming his face when you giggle at his corny joke. “Is that okay with you?” He climbs back onto the bed, leaning down to kiss your belly.

You nod affirmatively. “So do I, and I’m on the pill.” Sitting up and holding your hand out for the condom, you ask, “May I?”

Jack hands you the packet. “Be my guest, angel.” You lean forward, pressing your lips once again into his, and he groans in surprise as you flip him onto his back in one fluid motion. Climbing up his legs, you push them apart to make room for yourself in between. His impressive cock is achingly hard, viscous droplets of precum bubbling at the tip. You lap them up eagerly, Jack’s head falling onto your pillows with a muffled thump and a whine of pleasure.

“Fuck, your mouth feels so good,” Jack breathes. You suckle at the head, humming in pleasure as the salty-bitter taste floods your senses. Slowly, you begin bobbing up and down his shaft, swirling your tongue across his silky length, making his moans louder and more ragged as you go. After a couple of minutes and an intense suck later, Jack actually whimpers into the thick air of your bedroom, begging you for more. You tear open the foil packet carefully, then suck his cockhead one more time before settling the condom on top and gingerly rolling it down his thick cock.

You rise to your knees and shuffle upwards, leaning down one more time to kiss him. With your lips locked, Jack presses you back a bit and scooches his body up to sit against the headboard. You settle into his lap and slide yourself down his cock slowly.

The stretch is exquisite. Both of you moan in sync, your hands planted on his tan chest, his hands coming up to grip your hips to keep himself tethered to the moment. You feel as if every empty space in your body is filled; he fits perfectly inside you, like he was meant to be there.

He feels like coming home.

Once he’s bottomed out inside of you, you both take a moment to breathe and be present. Jack’s eyes are closed, forehead resting against yours, breathing each other’s air. His hands slowly and gently knead your hips while you adjust to his thickness stretching your walls deliciously. Bringing one of your hands to his face, you admire his blissed but tense countenance. It seems like the both of you are barely keeping it together; your pussy throbs against his cock, which twitches in response. Your breathing is heavier. And so is the tension and desire.

You kiss Jack’s lips softly, tracing your thumb down the line of his jaw, and his eyes flutter open, utterly melting when they focus on you. “Baby,” you murmur, “can I ride you now?” A groan claws out of Jack’s mouth, and his lips part as he nods his head affirmatively.

“Please,” he begs, and fucks up gently into you. Your center clenches in response, and you begin to work yourself on his shaft, rolling your hips as you grind down and back up. The sensation is intense, intimate, and all-consuming.

You clutch at Jack’s well-muscled shoulders, pressing kisses wherever you can reach and nipping his neck. His groans deepen and lengthen, his cock swelling even harder with the feeling of being buried inside you, surrounded by hot velvet. Hands gripping harder, he thrusts back up into you each time you slide down, punching into a spot deep inside you that makes you see stars. Dizzying ecstasy lights up your veins as your moans and whines pitch higher with your arousal. The slick, obscene squelching of your pussy only serves to intensify the experience for the both of you.

“Oh god, sweetheart, you’re so fucking wet and tight for me,” Jack slurs, lost in his reverence of you. “Could never get enough of you.” All you can respond with is a devout chant of his name, moaned and sighed and whimpered. He reaches down and slicks his thumb with your juices, swirling it gently around your clit. You keen sharply.

“Jack,” you moan, “don’t stop, you’re getting me there.” Jack hushes you as he works your pearl firmer.

“C’mon, sugar, I wanna feel you come all over my cock,” he encourages urgently, massaging that spot deep in your pussy while he swirls, swirls, swirls with his thumb. Your whines sharpen, your body beginning to shake.

“Oh fuck, Jack, you’re gonna make me come,” you yelp desperately, your pussy contracting and squeezing his cock tightly. Jack digs his fingers harder into the meat of your hips, trying to stave off his own orgasm, as he continues his ministrations.

He leans forward, sucking and kissing your neck, up to your ear, and licking the spot right behind it gently before murmuring, “Come for me, beautiful.”

You shatter.

Flames lick along every nerve ending, and you shove Jack as deeply into you as possible when your high hits you. Wailing his name, you grip his hair, your cunt gushing and contracting against his length, and that’s enough to push Jack over the edge with you, your name tumbling off his lips in a whimper as he buries himself deep and empties his seed into the condom.

Waves crashing together, the wheel of fate bringing you two to each other. He is meant for you, and you for him.

You both come back into your bodies, breathing heavily with your faces nuzzled against each other. Jack kisses your lips gently, and you part them to allow a deeper kiss to blossom. Slowly, languidly, your tongues dance, lips press and pull. With the tiniest peck, the two of you separate, and Jack brings his hands to cup your face gently, fingertips stroking your soft skin. His eyes shine like the sea on a sunny day, and you see golden flecks catch the light from your bedside lamp.

“You’re so perfect,” he murmurs, mesmerized.

You huff a laugh. “Hardly,” you reply, “but I feel like we’re perfect for each other, no?” Jack nods.

“Perfectly suited for each other,” he agrees. “You are my fire, and I am your ocean. You motivate me to push myself and our business further, and keep my passions burning.”

“And you go with the flow, move with the tides, helping me get through rough waters,” you mutter sweetly at him, kissing his strong, aquiline nose. You both sit and absorb each other’s presence, soaking in the new stage of your relationship.

“Where do we go from here?” you whisper to Jack. Your lover, your confidante, your partner in business - and now, in life.

“I don’t quite know what our future holds, sugar,” Jack responds, kissing your forehead, “but where your heart is, there I will be also.”

a/n part 2: Thank you for reading! Below I've included the brief that Erin wrote about Ægir, as well as some details/inspo from the fic. Disclaimer: I am not inherently familiar with Norse mythology or traditions, so apologies if there's anything that is off-base!

-- Beers are inspired by Allagash Brewing's saison and seasonal Ski House Wheat.

-- The winter holiday party decorations are inspired by traditional Norse decorations for Yule.

-- The "wheel of fate" and the last line Jack says are a nod to traditional Norse wedding vows.

-- For Erin's Frith Challenge, Thor was assigned to Pero Tovar, and Tyr was assigned to Ezra.

God: Ægir Character: Jack Daniels / Agent Whiskey

God of the sea and brewing ale. A Jotun (which translates to “devour” or “consume”, despite being connected to “giant” more often), suggesting that he would devour or consume the ships that would sink into the sea, and his wife, Rán (the death goddess of the sea), would consume the men upon the ships.

“The brother of air and fire”. Father of 9 daughters, who themselves are the waves. Not only represents the sea, but also personifies it. Symbolizes the strength and power of the ocean, so many view him as a great warrior.

Framed as a terrible and devouring Jotun, he’s also a welcoming host. It’s said that Thor and Tyr would visit to have some of Ægir’s ale, and every winter, the gods would come to feast in his hall. This makes him a great match for Rán, the caretaker of those who died at sea, as his hospitality would be extended to them through Rán. This could be seen one of two ways: that either the dead would reside in their hall, or that they would rest there until they were ready to move on.

The sea was seen as a source of great wealth, since sailors would find treasure through industry, trade or plunder. Gold itself was referred to as “Ægir’s Fire”, because he “lights his hall with gold in his hearth”. He’s wealthy, but he shares that wealth as he entertains his guests.

However, he sort of wanted to get out of being the gods’ host. He said he’d do it on the condition that they find a big enough cauldron to account for the amount of ale he’d have to make, since the gods liked to party so much.

To follow Ægir is to be hospitable to those who enter your hold seeking comfort.

Offerings: Ocean/water iconography. Gold. Fire/flames. Ale/alcohol.

Tags for those who may be interested: @mountainsandmayhem @alltheirdamn @sin-djarin @nerdieforpedro @mermaidgirl30 @missredherring @morallyinept @qveerthe0ry @guiltyasdave @almostfoxglove @almostempty @schnarfer @kedsandtubesocks @djarinmuse @agentmarcuspike @gasolinerainbowpuddles @yopossum

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #jack daniels #frith challenge #agent whiskey #kingsmen the golden circle #offering of frith #pedro pascal cinematic universe #kingsman #kingsmen golden circle

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eskir · 4 months ago

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formal dance - vampire!sunday x reader

yada yada, i haven’t written for sunday in a while (also the hsr sunday reddit is a cult, somehow??? (i’m not against it tho lmao)) but have this. i have some world building ideas and may expand, but for now enjoy a little writing from me (and my eepy self) gn!reader as always

the tales of vampires, sunday had discovered over the course of his new life, were quite misguided. perhaps that could be due to the tales originating from many amber eras ago, but a sly smile was still brought to his face when he saw his reflection in the mirror.

he was quite fortunate, sunday had thought to himself before. it would be annoying if he were unable to peer at himself and adjust his clothes accordingly: smoothing out any creases and tucking his hair so that no strands were sticking out. he had to look his best. even if mr. gopher wood was no longer around, sunday still clung onto those old habits and teachings.

adjust the glasses on the table, eyes wandering over the ballroom critically, and a polite smile on his face as he wandered around. although, the word wander did imply a certain lack of direction, so no, sunday only appeared to be wandering. in reality, he was mingled with key figures of the main five family figures of penacony, simple greetings and the like, before standing by your side.

he hands a flute of champagne to you, your favorite, with a coy smile. “are you enjoying yourself my dear?” a simple question, yet all too formal, but that was simply the nature of these kinds of gatherings.

“yes,” a genuine smile on your face, the corners of your eyes crinkling as you gesture at your outfit and then back at his, “which dressmaker did you employ this time? give my compliments to them, the feeling of the fabric is otherworldly.”

sunday looks at you fondly, and you’re struck with the knowledge that his affection is only shown vaguely, through gestures or purposeful micro expressions. “they are old pieces, just well maintained with multiple alterations for your size,” he chuckles, “i’ll give your compliments to the one who did the alterations.”

your champagne glass is half empty as he plucks it out of your hand and onto the server’s plate passing by. “but enough about that, let’s dance.”

there was only a moment for your eyes to widen and protest at the disappearing glass before he whisks you onto the dance floor with such graceful movements that makes your stumble seem purposeful. he is a vampire, that fact is brought to the very forefront of your brain when he brings his face close to your neck. your heart skips a beat, but then you are twirled around the room. you manage to eventually catch up with the tempo of the song, your feet now moving alongside his as he shoots you a closed eye smile.

he’s glad that you adapted well, and he didn’t mean any harm when taking you into the dance floor, that much is apparent when you look into his golden navy eyes. mirth and joy swirl in his eyes, in fact, alongside that very familiar fondness as you both lose yourself to this dance. it ensnares you both in its joyous grasp, like the way fae entrance foolish mortals. but one of you isn’t mortal, and the other isn’t foolish enough to not stop when the musicians take their pause.

applause. loud and raucous. it’s been far too long since sunday has last danced.

sunday’s eyes crinkle slightly as he looks towards you, his hand around your waist as you both stand up from the bow. “thank you all,” and back is his polite smile, those closed eyes and perfect aura, “i hope you all will enjoy the festivities as much as i enjoyed dancing with my beloved.”

there is only a slight chuckle from him, but the rest of the crowd quickly imitates it, before the chatter resumes and the attention is brought elsewhere.

“come, i have a surprise for you,” he murmurs against your ear, pulling away with a grin, his sharp fangs showing, “and i promise that it won’t be as unpleasant as me guiding you off for a dance.”

you snort out a laugh, shaking your head as sunday had already brought you several paces from the ballroom. there’s no one else around here, so you aren’t forced to put on airs anymore, a fact you merrily take advantage of. “i think you owe me for that surprise,” you roll your eyes at him playfully, “and don’t tell me to come when you’ve already whisked me out of the ballroom and to the front of our room sunday.”

he huffs with a smile, opening the door and closing it behind you two. “well i’ll make it up to you in the coming weeks,” he breathed, moving closer to you as his wings brushed against your face, “but for now let’s relax.”

his hands gently take your jacket off of you, folding it neatly and draping it over the chair nearby, “alright?”

a soft hum from you, “alright love.”

and when the night had already ended, the bright sun rising to the occasion, you two were already tucked away in the shadows of your room, small smiles and intermingling breaths.

#sunday x reader #hsr sunday x reader #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #sunday #hsr #vampire!sunday #hsr au #i could ramble and ramble but i’ll leave that for another post save me from some very minor brain rot ahhhhhh

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doctorcurdlejr · 6 months ago

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Niko!! what'd you think of I saw the tv glow. I finally saw it last night and noticed you posting about it so I wanted to know your thoughts :)

Levi!!! I was JUST wondering what you were thinking about the movie after I saw you posting about it as well... we are so media discussion pilled in this way, it's awesome. ANYWAYS I've had so many thoughts since I first saw it and I've been trying to turn them into something coherent for a little bit now.

Ummm okay I have written 1k+ words about this movie, the suburbs, and escapism via teen TV.... clearly I was dying for somebody to ask this I guess so thank you for indulging me <3

First and foremost, I absolutely loved it! I've seen it twice now and the first time I watched it I got to see Jane Schoenbrun talk about the film right after. I already really liked it from that first watch alone. I found it so deeply relatable to my experiences - both in terms of growing up gay and trans, but where I am now in my 20s trying to navigate adulthood. Hearing what Schoenbrun had to say really cemented my feelings and thoughts about the film.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer was a big influence on the movie (it's why Amber Benson makes a cameo as Johnny Link's mom). Even though I don't have the same emotional link to Buffy since I never watched it, I recognize it as the same type of warmth I experienced growing up with Riverdale. When Owen says he feels like his insides have been scooped out but that he's too afraid to look and have that wrongness everybody knows is there be confirmed, Maddy simply responds "Maybe you're like Isabel. Afraid of what's inside you." Tears forming but not falling, breathing shallowly, I grabbed the paper and pen the theater keeps at the seats for people to order food with and wrote that line down - the slip of paper is still somewhere in my car. Writing it now almost feels lame in its simplicity, but it felt like my insides were being flayed open.

During the director discussion, Schoenbrun talked a little bit about this idea of how truly fucking bizarre it is to grow up in the suburbs. Like, when we think about the pinnacle of normality in American culture, it's the image of middle-class cis-hetero-white suburbia. At the same time, despite this cultural dream of normality, everybody is hyper-aware that the suburbs are one of the least normal things ever. So, the ACTUAL cultural understanding of it is that it's where we go to, like, passively kill ourselves (*George Costanza voice* WE LIVE IN A SOCIETY YOU KNOW!). This idea isn't new, I mean there are so many films and shows about navigating that specific bizarre dissonance from Rebel Without a Cause to Heathers to Twin Peaks. Probably half the pre-teen to teen TV I watched obsessively growing up, stuff like Strange Days at Blake Holsey High, Making Fiends, Truth or Scare, and eventually Riverdale, were never shy about being weird and morbid and saying "yes, the suburbs are exactly as bizarre and lethal in the ways you can already feel in your bones at 13." I Saw the TV Glow does a really good job of keying not only into that mental dissonance but more specifically into how those of us who have felt so intrinsically weird and different and wrong fell back on these shows like they were capable of doing the emotional version of a rescue breath maneuver after being drowned.

In high school, if there were two things about me that any person who even vaguely knew me could list off it was that I watched Riverdale, and I was a lesbian - and I was mocked more for the Riverdale. At that age, I was, without a doubt, the most miserable I have ever felt in my life. I rarely left the house because my family lived in a development that made me want to scratch my skin off when I walked out our front door. Owen didn't leave the house for days, afraid Maddy could somehow force him out. I sobbed constantly and frequently to depressing indie rock on the floor of my closet while hoping my family would just once read the (honest to god) KEEP OUT poster plastered on my door since I didn't have a lock on it. Owen didn't leave his room for days, afraid of what Maddy recognized in him. I didn't go on dates and kept my chest binder shoved to the bottom of my bookbag while wearing dresses that could've come from a how-to-be the perfect 50s housewife manual. Owen didn't leave his bed for days, afraid of Maddy touching his neck and Isabel's dress. I also watched Riverdale with the kind of zeal you see in a Pentecostal who has found God and started speaking in tongues to let you know it. I own a button that says, "Don't Make Me Go Dark Betty On You," I cherish it in a way that is only achieved by knowing exactly how corny and trite it is and then moving straight past that because well actually, and most people wouldn't get this, she's holding back something deeply dark and wild and- and disgusting. something painful yet intrinsically her. but i get it, obviously. or maybe not obviously! hopefully not obviously, but- basically, I'm just saying I get it: the experience of reflection and recognition through the other and all that.

Whatever, the point is that this movie is one big glaring trans allegory about how it sucks dog shit to live in the suburbs, and even at our most repressed we find these little snow globes of actualization in the glow of a tv screen that isn't afraid to show you the world you see. I've seen some people say that, like, in this context accepting or coming into your transness is this monumental death of self, which I get, but I feel there lacks a nuance in that because either way Owen is dying. Unlike Maddy who buries herself alive only to come out renewed, Owen doesn't kill himself upon facing the reality that the world is constructed to keep him miserable and the only way out is to take back what it is that the world wants to keep scooped out of him. Instead he just passively lets it drag him to a much more permanent death. This lack of suicide sucks in the kind of way that forces you to sit in your car on the midnight drive home and think to yourself am I letting myself suffocate because at some point knowing the misery became less scary than admitting I've been capable of doing something about it the whole time?

Clearly, I’ve been enchanted by the film’s narrative and meta-textual language. If you're familiar with it, you can see how Schoenbrun built this movie like a long-form dream episode of a canceled teen show filmed in Vancouver. Lynchian? Yeah, sure. Riverdalesque? THIS we cannot possibly deny. Schoenbrun said they included Amber Benson as an act of healing the inner rage experienced at Tara’s death in Buffy. This is a Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa ending Riverdale with a bisexual polycule after his gay Archie play got ceased-and-desisted type move. There’s probably more I could say about the soundtrack and the visuals, but I’ve hit over 1k words on this, so I’ll leave it at I enjoyed this movie a lot. :)

Maddy is an out lesbian who left town to escape the misery and found it strapped to her ankles. She slinks out, an animal pressed against the gymnasium floor, and says "I'm not telling you anything you don't already know." Owen looks into the camera and narrates. He cuts himself open with a box cutter, fully acknowledges what's there, and the movie ends with his suffocating apology parade for the unremarkable inconvenience of his excruciating suffering. You can be gay and trans, you can know it and you can stop repressing it, but you're not going to stop suffocating until you can find a way to destroy the part of you that truly deeply does want to die, reaching for the comforting euthanasia of normalcy. Stop visiting the dream of the life you want and make it into your reality with the same kind of unrepentant conviction seen in some underfunded but wildly ambitious teen television series. In other words: you must try to survive the ego death of being weird. A weirdo, who doesn't fit in and doesn't want to fit in!

#i saw the tv glow #riverdale #< the sister tag to me talking about this movie at this rate...#i saw the tv glow spoilers #asks

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writer-in-theory · 9 months ago

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you're gonna go far, love — spencer reid.

“I’ve been ready for you to come home for so long that I didn’t think to ask you where you’d gone.” —Noah Kahan (Orange Juice)

Summary: After Spencer relapses, he takes the first flight out of Virginia with no plan other than to get a fresh start. Or, my take on where he was for Evolution. Pairing: Spencer Reid x Gn!Reader (not the focus, but it's there) Category: Hurt/Comfort WC: 2k Content Warnings: Discussions of relapse, Mentions of alcohol, Slight spoiler for the ending of Evolution S1 (despite the fact I still haven't finished it myself) Notes: This is for the New Beginnings challenge hosted by @imagining-in-the-margins and based on a prompt from @foxy-eva , so thank you so much to you lovely people. This fic comes 2 years after my last CM fic, and a few months since I've written anything at all, so thank you for the inspiration 💜

Spencer booked the first flight out of Virginia five days after it happened.

The person at the counter may have said the destination, but it floated straight past his ears and was carried far away. Within hours, everything he’d spent the past two decades building was left thirty thousand feet below him.

Emily would be hurt. Everyone would be, as each of them heard the news as they one-by-one came into the office tomorrow. But it would be Emily, who was the first to notice the cracks in his once carefully crafted facade all those years ago, who would feel the most betrayed by his sudden escape.

You should’ve at least said goodbye.

It was what Spencer had been most upset by when Emily had faked her death. After everything they’d been through together, after all of the joy they brought into each others’ incredibly stressful lives, all Spencer had needed was the chance to say goodbye and know that she was out there, somewhere, happy.

Hopefully, she’d understand why he had to leave now, though.

Everyone in the BAU had figured out by now that the Spencer Reid who walked out of prison was not the same as the one who’d first stepped into it. Some piece of him—and even now, he wasn’t sure how large that piece was—had been laid bare and morphed beyond even his own recognition. The loss of that part of him ached in the way that losing a loved one did, that sharp stabbing sort of ache that would appear so suddenly that he didn’t know how to handle it.

There was no way to explain it to the rest of the team, though, no matter how supportive they tried to be. The fact was that none of them had ever nor would ever go through what he exactly had, and for not the first time in his life, Spencer began to feel like a rip current was sweeping him away from the steadiness of shore.

It wasn’t until he was far enough away from shore that he couldn’t see the relief of the sands that his mind recalled that he’d been prescribed painkillers several months prior.

It wasn’t the same as what Tobias Hankel had given him so many years ago, nor was it the alternatives he’d managed to find in the months after, but it was devastatingly similar enough that he’d tried to convince the emergency room doctor not to order it in the first place. ‘Pick it up anyway, just in case. No one can recover from a gunshot wound without pain relief.’

He’d almost flushed the amber bottle’s contents the day he’d gotten them, but the bone-deep feeling that had eased with time but never truly gone away kept him from fully eliminating that option from his life. Why should one thing that had happened to him years ago deny him proper pain relief now, should he need it? So they’d sat untouched, locked away in his gun safe for months.

Until five days ago.

After well over a decade in recovery, Spencer knew this was always a possibility. He’d seen friends go through the same thing and had been there to support them in whatever ways he could because no matter how many times it happened the initial feelings of shock, shame, and overbearing grief could be just as overwhelming as the first.

A day after, when he’d woken up and realized just what had occurred, Spencer had walked himself to the nearest NA meeting. Like he was on auto-pilot, he moved through every piece of advice he had gathered through the years—the stories of success and the stories of forced learning serving as guides to him. It wasn’t the first time Spencer had relapsed (a word that still struck fear in him to even think about), nor would it likely be the last time he was forced to confront this part of his past.

Still, this was the first time Spencer walked out of the building, packed a bag, and made a silent escape from the city he called home. There was something different about this time, though he had no idea where to even begin considering the specifics of why.

He ended up in Cincinnati, Ohio.

In all the years he’d been with the BAU, they’d never once been called there. It was like every other city Spencer had been in in many ways—the buildings towering above him as he walked, the river that bordered the city mirroring the home he’d just left, even down to the FBI headquarters that was quiet now in the middle of the night. Still, he couldn’t help but feel as though it were completely separate from everything he’d known before, because the melancholy Spencer had been sitting in for the last five days had suddenly turned comforting amongst the atmosphere of the city.

He ended up in a bar, of all places. It was the kind that only served nonalcoholic drinks, the kind of place where people like him could sit without feeling outside of the norm. Music was playing softly in the background, and though it was busy there was only a gentle rumble of conversation in the room.

“You’re staring at that glass like it’ll kill you. It’s safe, Scout’s honor.” The teasing voice surprised Spencer out of the careful contemplation he’d fallen into. It came from the bartender, who was busying themselves with wiping down a few glasses, stood just on the other side of the bar in front of him.

“You know, that only works if you were actually a scout,” Spencer returned, though raised the glass to his lips after. It was sweet—a little too sweet by his standards, though it was a comfort now after the week he’d had.

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” the bartender said back. They looked comfortable here, like this sober bar were an extension of their own home. At one time, the BAU office had been the same for him. “You look like you could use a friendly face, and that just happens to be my favorite part of the job.”

“Part of the job…?”

“Oh you know, bartenders are the therapists for the lonely, or something like that.” They were comfortable, and more open to an effective stranger than Spencer ever thought possible. It was refreshing in a way, to be able to talk with them without having to worry about what case information he could get out of them. It wasn’t often, anymore, that he could relax and talk to someone just to talk to them. “What brings you to the Queen City?”

“I moved here,” Spencer answered automatically, looking down sheepishly at his glass before adding, “today, actually.”

“Oh, congrats then. New job?”

“More like a new start.”

It was quiet for only a moment before the bartender asked in a softer voice, “How long had it been?”

Spencer almost asked them what they meant, until he met their gaze. They had their full attention on him now, glasses left abandoned on the inner part of the bar. They’d been kind from the start, but the look they gave him now was the sort of pure understanding that made Spencer realize all at once what they were referring to.

“How did you know?”

The bartender sighed, though there was no sadness to it at all. They pulled something from their pocket, sliding it gently across the bar so Spencer could see. A metallic chip was place between them, silver on the outside and filled in with a green-blue color and a “V” engraved in the middle of it. It was different from the ones he’d used, but he recognized the meaning of it all the same.

“I opened this place because the day I relapsed, five years ago now, I’d had nowhere to go after. There wasn’t anywhere people like us could go and relax without having to answer the tough questions, like why I drank orange juice instead of ‘what all the other adults were drinking’. It seemed silly at the time, but I think I was just looking for somewhere I could feel normal.”

“My family were the ones who helped me get sober, and sometimes they still forget and will ask me why I’m not drinking.” Spencer returned the sentiment with a light laugh. He loved everyone in the BAU, and even though it had only been a few days he already missed them terribly, but it was nice to have someone there who understood what he was feeling, what he was going through now.

“Exactly!” The bartender said, following Spencer’s lead and letting out a laugh of their own. “Though I can’t say I ever moved to a new city because of it.”

“It was the most impulsive thing I’ve ever done,” Spencer admitted. “I…really needed a fresh start. I needed somewhere noone knew who I was, somewhere I could get a completely different job and…I don’t know, figure out who I am.”

The bartender nodded. “Sounds about right. This family you left behind, are you gonna go back to them?”

“Eventually. We’ve worked together for so many years. I spent more time with them than I’ve actually ever spent alone, and I think I just need…”

“Something new,” the bartender finished, “I’m starting to catch on. What d’you think you’ll do?”

“I’ve always loved teaching. Maybe that?”

“You know, I have some friends who work at UC. Depending on what you wanted to teach, I could see if they could get you an interview.”

“Just like that?” Spencer asked, wondering only briefly if there was going to be a catch somewhere down the line.

The bartender shrugged. “Why not? I never up and moved cities, but I’m no stranger to new beginnings.”

“I wouldn’t recommend moving cities without thinking it through,” Spencer laughed then. “I have no plan for what comes next.”

“Do you have somewhere to stay, at least?”

Spencer only winced, which he was sure was answer enough for them. He was expecting some kind of sympathetic response, but he never expected the bartender to shrug again and say, “Well, how about I be a little impulsive too. I’ve been looking for a new roommate, why don’t you stay tonight and see how it goes?”

“Really?”

“Yeah, sure. You seem decent enough not to be some secret axe-murderer or something.”

Oh, the irony.

Spencer didn’t really know this person except for the limited conversation they’d had so far. It would’ve been safer, and probably smarter, for him to just find a hotel room for the night and come up with a plan later. But something was telling him that he should agree, that there was something more to this person that he wanted to get to know.

So not for the first time that day, Spencer trusted his gut and nodded. “Okay, let’s try it.”

It wasn’t a fix for everything. The changes would come slowly, so slowly that sometimes Spencer himself wouldn’t even notice them happening. It would take time to get to a place where Spencer felt okay again, and a large help in that ended up being his new roommate who seemed to just get him in more ways than one. As time went by, Cincinnati truly began to feel like home.

And two years after he’d left, when Spencer turned on the news and saw the BAU standing before a large crowd as they announced they’d finally caught the serial killer behind the shipping container murders, he finally felt the string tugging him back in the direction of Quantico.

His home was there in Cincinnati, with the person who’d become a friend and even more in the last two years and the professor job that he came to love, but Spencer knew—beyond a shadow of a doubt—that it was time to see his family again, too.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfic #hurt/comfort #angst

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lowkeyren · 5 months ago

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hello !! i really love your aventurine fics <3 i was wondering how you go about characterising him?

ahh thank you!! (,,>﹏<,,) i'll js use this chance to give a brief overview of my understanding of aventurine!! so feel free to scroll below for my take on aven characterization on my fics. for now, tw: yapping (lol)

at face value, aventurine is js a cocky bastard (/aff) with a rlly fucked up backstory; in which i believe that he fakes his confidence to mask his insecurities + his inability to let go of his past (evident from quest desc, reddit user compiled it here).

his self loathing words are also kind of an inferiority complex (??) though he hides it really well. plus he often puts himself down because he genuinely doesn't believe that he's worthy (was literally sold for 60 tanbas, definitely fucked with his mental, thinking his life is only worth that much) + his tendency to overcompensate in money cus he isn't able to believe that people would genuinely want his company if not for his fortune or riches.

CN:

没了那块「砂金石」，你就只是个被公司判了死刑的茨冈尼亚奴隶——还是说，你脖子上那行「商品编码」也是琥珀王的恩赐？

translation: without that piece of "aventurine", you're nothing more than a sigonian slave sentenced to die by the IPC —or is the line of "commodity code" on your neck also a gift from the amber lord?

he was favoured by gaiathra, but does he really see his luck as a blessing, or a curse? i’m sure we’re aware of his tendency to hide his hand behind his back because he’s terrified of losing despite being known to “have nothing to lose” when gambling; well his mantra on "all or nothing" also breaks me deeply cus it’s the same thing the man who bought him said (fits his character too i guess).

i genuinely started tweaking when he (indirectly) said he attempted on his own life 3 times in penacony + when we had to take a photo of kakavasha, and there were 3 other empty spots for his parents and sister.

tldr: aventurine fans are allergic to happiness because aventurine himself is allergic to happiness.

OKAY IM (not) DONE, SORRY LET ME ACTUALLY ANSWER THE QUESTION LMAOO

for my aventurine fics, i have yet to write one that actually deep-dives into his character, not one that mainly focuses on his character at least!!

but i digress, dwst was written with “aventurine often wears a smile that masks his true motives, but when he's drunk that facade crumbles.” in mind. (though it didn’t come out exactly that way? up to your interpretation honestly!)

from heartfelt embrace: “but nonetheless, maybe one day aventurine will open his heart to you, and you’ll find the courage to speak your truth. until then, you’ll find comfort in the warmth of his embrace.”

^ aventurine's guarded nature is evident in his emotional reticence. as he’s not ready to reveal his vulnerable side just yet, he yearns to provide warmth and security to you even if he struggles to express his feelings verbally.

incandescent feelings overflow was also kinda like “haha he has a nonchalant facade, but in reality he does have smt to hide” (can be interpreted as his romantic interest in you or he simply finds teasing you amusing)

anyway live laugh love aventurine!!!!

good question google

#✧rentalks!#sorry i yapped #this is what a mention of aventurine does to me #i wanna give him a hug so badly #protect him at all costs!!!!#honkai star rail #honkai star rail aventurine #aventurine #hsr aventurine #he's such a well written character #got me crying #hsr analysis

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bellysoupset · 4 months ago

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Some palate cleanser after the previous story 😭

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"What was her name again?"

"Allison," Luke answered without missing a beat, his cheeks tinted pink, maybe from the wine. Bella leaned back uneasily as she watched her husband swirl the remaining bit of his drink and finish it off, catching her eyes.

Lucas was all smiles tonight. That one million buck smile that turned her off more than anything, a brilliant reminder that in another life he'd be a Forbes cover.

They were having dinner with Sylvie, Luke's boss, as well as the mayor Mr. Joshua Till and his twenty years too young wife, Marylin. It was taking all of Bella's willpower to pretend she was even mildly interested in all the polite small talking.

The mayor's eyes had sparked her eye, ambition written all over his face, and since then he hadn't bothered to talk with her. His child-bride, Bella thought viciously, was nicer and she had attempted to start up conversation twice, in a tiny voice that could not be heard by anyone other than their table and at the moment they were too busy measuring dicks to pay attention.

"What do you do, Bella?...Oh, backend developer... Sounds so scary, what's that?... My god, Joshie, you gotta hear-" Marylin tugged at her husband's sleeve and he brushed her off easily, causing Bella to cringe in sympathy.

"Don't worry," she leaned in to whisper innocently, "people don't give much thought about backend dev, not until they need an app working. I'm used to it."

Marylin's eyes sparkled at the friendly interaction, clearly the poor woman was feeling as out of place as Bell herself.

Bella's mood was quickly tanking. She didn't feel well, there was a heavy sensation in her stomach and she was glad that the rich people's restaurant served those minuscule portions, because there was no way she could eat much more than those two forkfuls she had.

Luke was busy and tonight her role was simply to play the loving, smiley wife, who didn't mind the mayor's mildly sexist jokes, like when he had first seen her and said "now I know why Luke was rushing to get married."

"You alright?" Luke whispered, leaning in, snapping Bella out of her thoughts, squeezing her knee inconspicuously. Bella nodded, opening a small smile as he planted a kiss on her cheek and whispered, "we'll leave soon."

Soon ended up being nearly three hours later. Bella was feeling clammy and queasy, she wanted nothing more than her bed.

"One closing drink and then we'll go," the mayor said, ordering liquor for the whole table. Bella bit the inside of her cheek not to grimace, she couldn't say no to the mayor, not when Luke and his boss had spent the whole night charming the man, but goddamn if she didn't want to.

The waiter came back with mini liquor glasses, tiny flutes filled with amber liquid.

Joshua raised his glass, urging them all to mimic him, "to a long lasting partnership," he cheered, before gulping it down.

Yeah, right, until the election, Bella thought sourly, before gulping her own drink down. Her already unsettled stomach flipped at the burning liquid and she hiccupped, loud and suddenly enough that Luke and Marylin both chuckled.

"Oh, that was cute-" Luke grinned, leaning her way, he was slightly tipsy, the lightweight that he was, and Bella glared at him.

"Excuse me..." she mumbled, standing up and grabbing on the back of Lucas' chair to steady herself, when the ground swam around her. Bell took a deep breath, ignoring Luke's confused glance, then marched to the bathroom.

As soon as she got inside, Bella braced against the sink and groaned as she saw her reflection. The natural golden tone of her skin had become muted thanks to her paleness and no amount of makeup could cover up how lousy she felt.

She swished some water and spat it back out, splashing her nape and neck, trying to cool down and taking measured breaths to fight the nauseous feeling starting to take over her.

The bathroom door opened as Bella was patting her cheeks with some humid paper towels, trying to wipe the clamminess without removing her makeup.

Marylin walked in, then paused on her way to the bathroom stall, perking up, "it was really nice that you were here, Bella."

Bell couldn't figure out why, considering her mood had been less than stellar for most of the night.

"Thanks...?"

Marylin offered her a soft smile, walking inside the stall. Bella was about to leave when she heard the lady's voice, louder so she could be heard, "these dinners are always so boring."

Bell cringed, she wanted nothing more than to leave, but politeness now required her to stay put while the other woman peed, "they're alright," she lied through her teeth and heard a little scoff.

"Please. Josh cannot stop talking, we're basically here as scenery. It's even worse when it's one of his committee parties," she flushed, then stepped out, smoothing her beige dress and walking towards the sink, "it's like I'm a very pretty plant he drags around."

Bella raised her eyebrows, queasy feeling in the backburner as she collected the gossip, "really? I thought you two were- Picture perfect," no, she didn't.

Marylin rolled her eyes, grabbing some paper towels, "no, you didn't. You look just as bored as I am, you're just not as good pretending. Resting bitch face case?"

A cackle slipped out and Bella rushed to cover her mouth, suddenly amused, "oh shit- I mean, sorry, sorry-"

The other woman smiled fondly, leaning against the sink slightly, "your husband's sweet," she said after a minute, "he actually listens when you speak."

"I mean," Bella frowned, "that's the bare minimum. Wouldn't have married him otherwise."

The First Lady shrugged, balling up the paper towels and throwing it in the trash, "is it?" she said in a calm voice, stepping around Bella, "how long have you two been together?"

"Six years in September," Bella followed her out, letting out a small sigh of relief as she saw Luke was standing at the door already, holding her coat.

"I've only been with Josh for three," Marylin threw her a serious glance, "we should go out for coffee some other day. I'll get your number with Joshua."

Did the mayor have her number?

"Uhm- Okay-" Bella barely finished her sentence, before the other woman was walking away, whole demeanor changing as she entered her unassuming role.

"You're pouty," Luke said, as they finally got to the parking lot, after many thank-yous and goodbyes. He had an around her back and Bella was quietly walking alongside him.

"No, I'm not," Bella grabbed the car door handle, climbing in, "I'm fine."

"Uhm..." Luke leaned in, slotting himself between her legs, his nose nearly touching hers, "don't believe you."

"Too bad," Bella planted her index on his forehead, pushing him back, "I just wanna go home, tonight was exhausting."

"Have I said thank you for putting up with it?" Luke didn't pull back despite her pushing, turning his face so he could catch her finger and nibbling at it, "thank you. I know it was boring as hell, but you being here meant a lot."

"Oh yeah, I'm sure the night would've been ruined without me," Bella rolled her eyes, but she couldn't help but smile as he wrinkled his nose and pressed a kiss to her palm.

"Mine would've," Luke pushed a curl that had escaped from her hairstyle back behind her ear, "thank you."

Her cheeks burned and Bella shrugged, unsure of how to take the honest thankfulness, "let's go home, I don't feel so good." She cringed as soon as she said it and caused Luke's eyes to widen, sobering him up immediately.

"You're not feeling well? What's wrong?"

Bella sighed, pulling her hand from his hold and rubbing her stomach lightly, "just feeling a little gross, it's not a big deal. I think I just miss my bed."

Luke opened a small smile at that, then leaned in and stole a kiss, "let's go home, grandma."

"Real weird calling me that right after kissing me," Bella grinned, but she happily kissed him back.

The drive home was uneventful, although Bella was muffling little burps against her fist for pretty much all of it. She couldn't get rid of that queasy sensation, not strong enough to make her pukey, not faint enough to let her forget it.

"I think the First Lady wants to be my friend," Bella said, once they got out of the car and she started stripping at their front door, using Luke's shoulder as support as she unclasped her heels.

"She's our age, I wouldn't be surprised," Luke shrugged, unlocking the door and stepping aside so she'd go in first. These little spontaneous bursts of chivalry never ceased to make Bella all melty inside. "Besides, you're like... The coolest girl."

"Aw, I'm flattered, babe," Bella teased him, draping herself over his back and letting out a sigh when Luke planted his hands over hers in his chest, keeping her put, "you think I'm the coolest girl?"

"Yep," Luke turned his head to smile at her, "you got that mysterious-dont-really-wanna-be-here thing going on. Got me smitten on the spot, I don't see why it'd be different with anyone else."

"Marylin called it a resting bitch face, but I love the way you see me," she muffled a little burp against his shoulder blades, stepping in rhythm with him as they waddled to the bedroom.

"What's the point of a hot woman if she doesn't look a little mean?" Luke smiled, grabbing at her forearms and throwing Bell in the bed. She fell with a pleased noise, sinking against the pillows, and squirmed as Luke promptly crawled over her.

"Don't- Luke," she shoved at his arm, "don't lie on top of me, my stomach hurts-" she rolled her eyes as Luke slid down on the bed, rolling her black dress up, "what part of my belly's hurting was an invitation to eat me- Oh."

"Yeah, oh," Luke snorted, placing a kiss against her belly, as he pushed her dress up enough, and starting to rub it gently, "doesn't feel bloated to me."

"It's not gas," Bella blushed and used this moment to pull her dress up and out, balling it up and throwing it across the room. She started removing the pins in her hair, "it's just bleh."

"Bleh," Luke repeated, smiling and pressing another kiss near her navel, "like you're gonna be sick?"

"Sorta," Bella tilted her hip, so Luke's next kiss was to the side of her belly, near her ribcage, "not really pukey, but I guess? I don't know, I just feel gross."

"You're a gift with words," he mumbled against her skin and Bella flicked at his ear. Her stomach churned once more and she groaned, turning her face to muffle a sickly burp against the pillow.

"Dinner's messing with you, uh?" Luke said quietly, resting an elbow on the bed and continuing to rub her stomach in soothing circles, seeming completely hypnotized.

"No," Bella's mouth started to get a sticky quality and she gulped down the weird sour taste, "felt like this all day."

"What?" he glanced up, surprised, "why didn't you say anything! Isabella! I wouldn't have-"

"It was a important dinner," Bell shrugged, poking his knuckles to get Luke to start the belly rub back again, "I almost threw up at lunch, but I persevered."

"You're impossible, Bell," Luke pouted, putting a bit more pressure in the slow circular motions, his thumb pressing on her side, "we could've rescheduled."

"With the mayor? Yeah, right," Bella sat up slowly, feeling a weird pressure in her throat. She pressed her lips in a line and Lucas raised an eyebrow.

"Bell? Do you need the trashcan?"

Maybe. Bella shook her head, letting the nausea wash over her and gulping down, goosebumps springing all over her.

"You're really pal-"

She hastily shoved him off of her and leaned over the side of the bed, but instead of vomit, only a small wet burp came up. Bella groaned, head hanging, as Luke went to hold her hair back and let out a small scoff.

"You're always so dramatic when you need to burp," he planted a kiss to her temple, "are you gonna puke?"

"No," Bella gulped down, collapsing on the pillow once more, "but can you get in bed and rub my belly?"

"Aw, pooOor baby," Luke teased her, pressing a kiss to her cheek, "yeah, let me just change first."

Bella was feeling more than a little drowsy by the time Luke slipped under the blankets, promptly pulling her closer to him and burying his nose in her hair, "are you sleepy?"

"Took you forever," she mumbled, grabbing his hand and moving it to her stomach, draping herself on his side, "Lu?"

"Yeah?" his mouth was pressed to her temple and his breath tickled the top of her ear, causing Bella to smile.

"Thank you for not treating me like a very pretty plant."

Lucas let out a cackle, throwing his head back and causing the bed to shake, "you're welcome?"

Bella smiled, pressing her nose to his neck and tangling their legs together, "I'd be a venus flytrap."

#mywriting #sickfic #upset tummy #upset stomach #eructo #eructophilia #nausea #isabella martinez #isabella martinez-atwood #this is just fluff but also its like Important in my head

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oriley42 · 3 months ago

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long time reader, first time caller! i just read all of “adventures in polyamory” after watching approximately 3 episodes with amber in them, and it breaks my heart that you made me fall in love with her wilson-style (with reckless immediacy) while the way she’s depicted in the show is so…woman written in the 2000’s…so i’m here to shake a tin cup and ask for any amber headcanons you’d be willing to share

hello and welcome from KZ-HouseMD, the radio station for all your hatecrime-hits! ;) <3

loving Amber is so painful and so worth it; we will punch through the Noughties' misogyny together babes 🌈

headcanons and over-explanations ahoy!!

Amber's got a WASP-y background, and has spent her life both living up to and rejecting these standards. Unlike Wilson, who is delusionally attached to the idea of being Good and Normal but is unhappy living the reality, Amber recognizes that these concepts are absurd performances HOWEVER she logically recognizes that they come with benefits--and she wants those. "Love and respect" seemed impossible, because respect comes with being the best according to society's rules, and love couldn't survive that stifling environment. Now, she can hold on to the respect she craves: money enough to feel safe, wearing pearls and skirts to look proper and upper-middle-class femme, having a handsome-doctor-man-partner, an MD of her own + also still be herself, including un-ladylike cruelty, dishonesty, being part of House's chaotic evil orbit, sexual freedom, atheism, etc.

Amber has spent 110% of her life trying to get enough success to feel safe and stable and happy, so she hasn't developed interests and hobbies because who has time for that give me another coffee and another go at that medical text

Related: Amber hates everything about organized sports, but if she had the time and a friend (*cough* Thirteen) she could be one of those sapphics who gets incredibly obsessed with a women's soccer team or the WNBA

Also related: a sufficiently "productive" hobby I think she'd love is antiquing. Waking up at six AM to drive three hours and wait outside an estate sale and then barge in and make a grab for that antique bureau, fighting off old ladies and viciously snarling down the price--bloodsport for classy femmes!

Amber is a basic chocolate girlie. Caramel is a close follow-up. Vanilla is fine, and she'll pretend to like fancy amaretto or pistachio flavors etc but really she would prefer an Oreo. (Or two...) She will eat max veggies for Health tm and the spiciest food to prove she is Tough tm but really just wants a grilled cheese. A chicken nugget. A spaghetti. Food sensitivities + eating disorder, though she'll only barely cop to the latter, and will not be exploring the former thank you very much she's fine

Amber gets along well with older kids, where she can take on the role of Cool Babysitter, but I think she's secretly a little terrified of being left alone with the tiny incomprehensible, breakable ones, who don't follow the social contract yet and rely on her (!) for self preservation

Amber is naturally a night owl, but medical-land is all early bird, so she's mainly been sleep deprived for the last decade, since she refuses to have a 10 PM bedtime just because she has to get up at 5 AM to make her shift.

Amber's not that interested in fiction ("who has time for that in this reality?") but she ironically enjoys rom-coms for the absurdity, the laugh factor, and the easy comfort of a formula + unironically enjoys action movies because she likes seeing people get punched in the face repeatedly

Amber should take Taekwondo lessons so she can beat the ever-loving shit out of people for fun, and maybe she will after she realizes that the Lulu Lemons in her yoga classes are unbearable, and instead befriend some weirdos gathering at the local gym to spar (Wilson would think this is a great and very attractive idea, House would be annoyed+scared+horny because jesus now he has to wear an athletic cup full-time or she'll crush his nuts for target practice, won't she, c'mon Wilson it's not funny)

okay hitting the brakes here before this gets so long it demands a read-more! 😜 thanks for the ask <333

#asks #house md #amber volakis #headcanon

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spookymystery67 · 6 months ago

Text

I Wish I Could Walk In Heels

AN: Another late chapter...yay? Sorry, a lot of stuff is going down in my life and I am having a hard time getting into the headspace to write. Long story short, stress is at a all time high and I'm hotel hopping right now so I have zero alone time away from my family to actually write stuff without people snooping over my shoulder. I had this chapter pre written before shit hit the fan and though I'm iffy on the quality, I figured I just publish something for you all. Hope you all enjoy it!

-Los Iluminados, 2004-

Chapter 20:

Was this man seriously dancing? Right now?

You didn't know whether to be annoyed or amused as Luis, a Spanish man with dark, floppy hair, gracefully moved to the sound of music that only he could hear.

Well, you supposed everyone has their own ways of coping with traumatic and stressful situations. No matter how eccentric or slightly inappropriate they may be in said situation.

The infected, mindless, men walked toward the cell Luis was locked in, unlocking the cell to, presumably, kill him like they did the other prisoners just a few rooms over.

Luis paused his dancing and said something in Spanish to the corpse locked in with him as the cell door was opened.

As the infected men walked closer to Luis, who was posed and ready to fight, the robed woman quickly took action.

The lantern she held in her hands hit the infected man behind her knocking him away and unconscious. She quickly kicked and punched the others, getting rid of the current threat in record time as Luis just stood back and watched in awe.

“Clear.” The robed woman said. You walked out from your hiding spot in another nasty cell as Ada took off the disguise. It was decided that she would be the one undercover for the moment when you had only found one robe. Your job was to stay out of sight and keep an eye on Luis. You feel you did a good job, all things considered.

“That's no way to finish a dance.” Ada said as she tossed the robe away. It landed on the corpse, covering the gruesome sight. She knew you were a little squeamish when it came to rotting bodies. And while covering it didn't help the smell, it did warm your heart to see her attempt to ease the nausea she knew you've experienced since you've walked into this room.

Luis looked a little surprised at your sudden appearances, before he smirked in response to Ada and did a little dancing maneuver. His hand landed on Ada's waist as he posed. Ada had a hand on her hip, looking unimpressed with his silly antics.

She took a cigarette out of a package of them and stuck one in his mouth. “Your favorite, I believe.”

“Excellent timing, Ada. You know how I feel about being tied up.” Luis teased as Ada spun away from him, tossing the pack of cigarettes his way. He caught them as she spun to stand by you, with your arms around her waist to catch her, completing the little dance. He looked you over.

“I didn't know you were bringing a friend. She is quite the beauty. I'm Luis.” He said, officially introducing himself to you in a charming way that, honestly, probably would have made you swoon if you weren't involved in a relationship with the goddess of a woman that was currently held within your arms.

Instead, you just raised an eyebrow at the pretty Spanish man and huffed a slightly amused laugh at the charming yet dorky smile he sent your way. “Y/n. Not surprised that our boss didn't mention I was coming along. Sorry about that.” You responded. You hugged Ada's waist a little tighter before releasing her from your grasp as you both exchanged a slight smile.

He waved you off. “Ah, the more the merrier. Pleasure to be meeting you, Señorita.” He smiled before turning back to Ada. “And yes, many thanks.” He shook the cigarette pack in his hand in gratitude. “You see, those annoying monks took everything from me.”

Ada had a look of disbelief. “Including the Amber?”

Luis laughed. “No. Cleverly hidden, just before they grabbed me.”

“Well then lead the way.” Ada urged impatiently. The sooner you grabbed the Amber, the sooner you all could leave.

“My pleasure.” Luis said, gesturing dramatically to the exit of the cell. “And here we go. This way.” He started leading the way out of the castle dungeons.

“Is it close?” Ada questioned.

“Not exactly. But it's safe.”

“No Amber, no deal. You know the terms.” Ada said. While we walked she grabbed objects placed around the castle she thought would be useful, such as herbs, as Luis led the way.

“We're good. We're good.” Luis reassured her. “What do you want with it anyway?”

“I don't know…yet.” Ada muttered.

You both had your guesses. All of them mostly suggested that what Wesker had in mind was nothing good. You hadn't decided if you were going to pull through and just give him the Amber. But with the way things were in Los Iluminados, you were both leaning towards a hard no.

You all made your way out of the cells through a large hole in the wall, quickly ducking behind another wall for cover as you noticed a group of monks a little too close for comfort.

They know you're here.

“We've got company. They're looking for us. But we're taking the highroad, got it?” Ada said. You nodded in agreement to the plan.

“Understood.” Luis said as you all ran out to the more open area once the coast was clear.

You quickly jogged to the rope hanging from the exit you were to take, shaking your head fondly as you heard the clacking of Ada's heels. Her shoes may gather attention at this point with the way they are echoing off the marble of the grand room. But you loved her and her impractical outfits.

Ada grabbed the rope and quickly tied it around Luis's waist, making him release a startled gasp when she tightened it too suddenly.

“Up you go Luis.” Ada said as she patted his shoulder.

He laughed and tugged at the rope, muttering something in Spanish once more.

“A little more urgency please. Any moment we could have-” You're cut off by the large doors slamming open. A giant insect creature that may have once been human, but no longer resembles one other than the way it stood, calmly walked in. Eyes glowed in your direction and its insect face moved in an eerie way that sent chills down your spine, giving you flashbacks of your unfortunate experience with those giant bugs back with Jill in Raccoon City.

“...company. Ew.” You grimaced and withheld the urge to vomit.

“Fetch the Amber. We'll meet up later.” Ada told Luis. You took out your prefered shotgun in preparation to kill the freak of nature. Or, well, not nature you supposed. Freak of a creation made by mad men.

Luis tried to resist. “No! Sorry, what kind of a man leaves two ladies to - woah!” He never got to finish as he was quickly yanked up to the exit by the rope around his waist.

The freak of man grew large, gooey, bug-like talons from its right arm to use as a weapon. The sounds alone made you feel nauseated.

“That's disgusting.” You muttered, trying to choke back the bile rising in your throat from the thing in front of you and Ada. You could see Ada nod in agreement from your peripheral vision.

You both quickly spared a glance up to where Luis should be to see if he made it safely. He untied himself and called down to you. “Then we meet at the church. Let's not make it a funeral, eh?” He grumbled angrily as he quickly left.

You quickly took out the monks that appeared around you to allow Ada to focus on the bug creature before you. You quickly ducked from the swing of the gooey talon ax it grew as Ada took the distraction and shot it in the face, knocking it down.

You both paused as it laid there for a while, glancing at each other in disbelief.

“There is no way it was that easy.” As if to prove your point, it quickly sat up in that inhuman manner, making creepy crawly sounds that made you shiver in disgust.

You hate bugs.

“You had to say something, didn't you?” Ada sighed as she quickly raised her gun once more.

“What? You thought it was dead? That easily?” You said as you raised your gun and backed away from the bug creation to gain some distance.

“No. But I hoped. That hope was instantly crushed when you had to open your mouth.” Ada smirked teasingly.

“Right, because the universe hates me and loves to prove me wrong. Or, right, in this case.” You sarcastically responded.

“See? You get it.”

The creature rudely interrupted you two by throwing a gooey, pulsing substance on a nearby pillar, making Ada shove you away.

You both quickly ducked and rolled away as the strange material exploded. Ada covered you and gasped as some drops of the burning substance hit her arm. You turned to her in concern, but she waved you off, eyeing the bug monster.

“Not bad. But not nearly good enough.” Ada whispered to the creature, taking out her pistol and making accurate headshots as it slowly walked toward you.

You made to move and help, but Ada interrupted you. “Get out of here, Y/n! Go find Luis while I handle this. I'll meet up with you soon.”

You shook your head, immediately denying her order as you shot the creature. “Hell no! If you think I am leaving you to fight that alone then you're completely mistaken.”

“Y/n! I mean it! Luis is the only one who knows where the Amber is, and if anything happens to him then we likely won't ever be getting out of this place alive. Find Luis. I'll be fine.” Ada demanded before she resumed the fight, distracting the creature long enough for you to slip out undetected.

You didn't want to leave her alone with that monstrosity. You really didn't. You've been a team for six years and had not once left each other alone to fend off such a danger. But you knew she was right. Luis is your only connection to the Amber. Losing him would mean losing the Amber. And finding that Amber is the only way Wesker would ever let you and Ada get out of here alive.

You couldn't worry about Ada now. Right now, you have to find Luis.

To the church you go.

—

Dodging and fighting off the mindless villagers had become more and more of a hassle as the night progressed. They were everywhere, throughout the castle and beyond, with weapons in hand, mindlessly muttering words in Spanish that you could not even bother trying to understand as you had one goal in your mind you needed to focus on.

You had made it to the church in record time, all things considered. With the increase in activity from the villagers, it was a miracle you had made it with only superficial wounds covering your flesh that was left bare in the bitter cold of the late autumn season. Your jacket had a few tears from the stray pitchfork and knife wielding pedestrians, but otherwise remained intact.

As you slowly and carefully turned the corner of the church, a figure suddenly appeared in front of you, making you jump in surprise. You quickly raised your dagger in preparation to attack.

“Woah, Señorita! It's only me.” Luis stated, hands up in surrender. You huffed and lowered your blade as you glared at him. An amused smirk appeared on his face as you refrain yourself from smacking the man.

“What the hell is wrong with you? I could have stabbed you! You know how many villagers are crawling around here and attacking me? I was ready to kill you!” You angrily, but quietly as to not draw attention, scolded.

“It wouldn't be the first time a pretty lady made an attempt on my life. Likely wouldn't be the last, either.” His smirk only grew as you rolled your eyes at him, resisting an amused smile of your own.

“Who did you piss off?”

He shrugged, “I was quite the ladies man in my younger days. Women just couldn't get enough of me.”

You went to respond, but a slight rustle of movement from the corner of your eye silenced you immediately. You quickly grabbed Luis's arm and shoved him to the side of the church to hide out of sight around the corner of the wall. He protested, but you shushed him and moved away, raising your pistol as you walked toward the rustling sound, ready to shoot.

You walked to the opposite side of the church to where the movement came from. You took a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself, then turned the corner to attack. You let out a surprised gasp that turned into a sigh of relief. A light haired wolf startled at your appearance, stared, before finally running off and through the gates of the church.

“It’s just a wolf.” You muttered to yourself as you watched the wild animal leave. You turned and made your way back to where you forced Luis to hide.

Suddenly, you heard Luis let out a shout that turned into a stream of yelled out Spanish words that you couldn't quite understand, but suspected to be curses. You quickened your pace, but before you could turn the corner of the church you heard him shout in English.

“Don't, Señorita! Too many! Wait until she gets here to find me!”

You slowed your pace and crouched, reaching the end of the wall and peaking around the corner of the church to see just how many villagers there were.

Your eyes widened. He was right. Far too many. At least, too many in one small area for you to fight off. If they were scattered around more, you could have stood a chance. A group of around twenty or so villagers crowded around Luis, muttering angrily in Spanish as Luis vainly attempted to swat and kick to shoo them off.

They must have been gathering for church. You couldn't understand why so many were here otherwise.

You both briefly made eye contact before he nodded to the side, urging you to hide until the coast was clear. You wanted to help, but you both understood that if you and him got caught together, then things would be that much more difficult for Ada. Neither of you wanted to make this mission take any longer than necessary.

Plus, you could only imagine how Ada would react if you got yourself kidnapped and she had to be away from you longer. You wouldn't call her a clingy girlfriend. More overprotective than anything. If you got caught, you would never live it down. And she would never let you join a mission with her ever again.

So, hide you did. You stayed out of sight of any wandering villager that checked for any more threats to them around the church. They had been far more paranoid tonight. You wondered what had happened to make them act as such.

The group of villagers dragged a cursing Luis off. You sighed and resigned yourself to sitting there somewhat impatiently. You should wait for Ada to appear before continuing on with the mission. You didn't think the villagers were going to kill him.

Not yet, at least.

#ada wong #resident evil #ada wong x reader #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy #luis sera resident evil #luis serra #resident evil 4 remake #luis sera #Idk #According to the internet there are two ways to spell Luis's last name #I Wish I Could Walk In Heels

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e-dubbc11 · 1 year ago

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Ericca, my love. A huge congratulations on your follower celebration. You deserve every single one and a thousand more 🥳❤️

So... I wanna push you out of your comfort zone a little and request a little drabble made from a gif and I'm gonna choose our dear Rumlow 😉

But also... can I pair it with a kiss prompt? "If you win, I'll kiss you"

No pressure at all, since you haven't written for Rumlow before, but I hope this could inspire you 😁❤️

My lovely Lily,

Thank you for being such a good friend to me, you’re always so supportive and encouraging. And thank you for following me and being a part of my celebration. It means so much to me that you read my fics and our daily chats are some of the best parts of my day.

And thank you for this ask, I’m REALLY nervous about writing for Rumlow so I hope you like what I did here. Oh and it’s a little more than a drabble 🤣

Never Again

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Brock Rumlow x F! Reader

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of domestic abuse, injuries as a result of said abuse, lessons in boxing and Krav Maga, little violent.

Word Count: 3.9k-ish

Summary: You’re relatively new in town and you start working out at a nearby gym where you notice someone there that could help you with a problem from your past.

A/N: So yes this is my first time writing for Rumlow, I’m terrified but I had fun writing for someone new. And it’s a little longer than I intended but such is life! I hope you like it. And this has a very J Lo in Enough feel to it.

*********

You passed that building every day on your way to the gym. It was intimidating to look at even from across the water, wondering what was inside, wondering if anyone was looking down at you as you drove by the large complicated building with more windows than you could count but it was the building that he headed for every day after his workout.

Well, he did on the days that you and he finished your workouts at the same time.

Sometimes you would sneak into the part of the gym that had the boxing ring and watch him while you jumped rope, not well, but it was passable. He was amazing to watch, dominating his sparring partners with what looked like a combination of fighting styles.

Boxing, Krav Maga, Karate, and probably a few more but you didn’t know the difference. You had no idea how to fight, but you wanted to learn.

It might be helpful the next time your ex finds you because you knew there would be a next time.

The daily routine of trying to cover your bruises with makeup was exhausting and you didn’t want to do it anymore, you didn’t want to be scared anymore so you decided you were going to approach him.

He had a daunting look to him, wild brown hair, amber colored eyes, days old stubble, and his face always looked like he was filled with a dark rage but you had caught him smiling a couple of times when he wasn’t busy being cranky. So he did know how to smile but it was painfully obvious he didn’t do it very often.

After an aggressive run on the treadmill, you turned to step off and crashed right into him. He looked annoyed at first but when he looked into your eyes, his expression softened. You immediately apologized.

“Shit, I am so so sorry. Are you ok?” You asked, wiping the sweat off of your face.

Anger returned to his face when he looked at yours.

When you had wiped the sweat off of your face, you had taken some of your makeup with it, uncovering the greenish-yellow bruise around your eye that you had forgotten was there.

“Who did that to you?” He asked with a gruff tone to his voice.

Not remembering you had a bruise around your eye, you replied to his question. “Did what?”

He moved in closer and feeling his breath against your eyelashes, he gently turned your face toward the mirrors along the wall.

“That! Who did THAT to you?” He repeated again.

Quickly turning away from the mirrors and breaking away from his touch, you lied to him.

“Oh I’m just really clumsy, I walked into the corner of the door.” You said.

He seemed annoyed with your answer. “Right, if you say so, Miss. Have a good day.” And with that, he turned to leave.

But you didn’t want him to. “I don’t want to be afraid anymore.”

“WAIT!” You called out.

He stopped, turned and waited for you to catch up to him.

“Teach me…please.” You begged. “I’ve tried restraining orders, the police, they won’t help me. I feel like you might be the only one who can…I’ve seen you fight.”

He dropped his bag from his shoulder, placed his hands on his hips, and glanced at the ground before returning his gaze to you. The heat coming from his body hit your exposed skin and sent a shiver down your spine.

The muscles in his arms flexed as he pinched the bridge of his nose and returned his arms to rest at his sides. Bending at the waist, he picked up his gym bag and started to walk away.

Your stomach dropped as you watched him walk away before he turned to look at you once again.

“Be here tomorrow…noon. I’m Brock…Rumlow. Be ready to work. If you are thirty seconds late, I’m walking.” He said.

“Of course, yes I will be here Mr. Rumlow.” You said in a shaky tone. “I’m y/n.”

Brock cracked a slight smile. “Just Brock, sweetheart. I’ll see ya tomorrow. And do me a favor…”

He closed the distance between your bodies so he could whisper in your ear.

“Leave those bruises uncovered. I want you to take one more look at them because after I’m done with you, those will be the last set of bruises he’ll ever give you.” He growled and he walked away without turning back.

You had a feeling you were in for a long afternoon tomorrow.

**********

The clock said 11:45.

You made sure you weren’t just on time, you were early, changed and ready to work. You saw Brock walk in and head straight for the locker room, he was dressed in what looked like tactical clothing, all black from head to toe and black boots. He noticed you waiting for him and he held up one finger as if to tell you “one minute” or “be right out.”

You had done as he requested and left all of your visible bruises uncovered. The one around your eye was going away but you could still see the greenish-yellow mark on your face and also the hand and fingerprints on your arms and neck.

Feeling self-conscious, you tried to position yourself in a way where they weren’t so visible but it didn’t do any good. You felt like everyone was staring at you, even though they weren’t. They didn’t look as bad as they did before and they were also taking a long time to fade.

He emerged from the locker room dressed in black shorts, sneakers, and a white muscle shirt, plus his signature sour look to his face. But you had to admit, that look was rather sexy.

You watched carefully as Brock taped up your hands and then taped up his own. You were a fast learner so you should be able to tape up your own hands tomorrow, if you lasted through your first workout.

“Ya ever done any self-defense or boxing before, sweetheart?” He asked.

You shook your head before answering him. “No, never.”

“Ok…well, hope you’re ready to work.” He said.

“I am.” You replied.

And he did work you, he worked you harder than you’ve probably worked out ever before. He started with the basics…how to stand, loose knees, elbows tucked in, and the basic punches.

Brock showed you the jab, the cross, and the hook. Then taught you some of the basic combination punches: 1-2 (jab-right cross), 1-1-2 (jab-jab-cross), and the 1-2-hook-2.

Your time together went by quickly. And more than once you had caught Brock looking at the blue and purple marks on your upper arms as you threw punch after punch, encouraging you and praising you for when he thought you did a good job.

During one of your water breaks, he asked you, “When did you leave him?”

He caught you off guard, you weren’t expecting him to converse except when he was giving you lessons but it was nice to talk to someone that wasn’t yelling at you. Brock was surprisingly gentle.

He would always ask and make sure it was alright before he put his hands on you to show you something and his voice was stern but he never yelled at you which was comforting.

“Oh, awhile ago but he always manages to find me wherever I go, hence these bruises.” You pointed to the bruise around your eye.

“And he doesn’t know where you are now?” He asked.

“No, not yet but he has connections and money so I’m sure it’s just a matter of time before he does. This time I thought I’d try a bigger city, maybe he wouldn’t look for me here in D.C. but I’m just tired of running and being afraid, Brock.”

The man of few words had even less to say than he did before. He was silent, the look in his eyes was sad but not sorry. He didn’t seem the type to feel sorry for people but it was almost like he was proud of you for escaping, for leaving when a lot of people would just stay and take it.

You didn’t want to be one of them.

“Why does he keep chasing you then? What does he want?” He asked.

“I took something. Something that meant more to him than I ever did.” You said.

Brock looked like he was on the edge of his seat waiting to hear what you were going to say, before you cracked a sly smile and said,

“I took the cat.” Followed by a light giggle.

A smile stretched across his lips bigger than you had ever seen him smile before and he started shaking his head.

“The cat? You took the fuckin’ cat?” He asked in a surprised tone.

“Hey, Peanut is MY cat, not his!” You said, sass dripping from your voice.

Taking a sip of water, he inched closer to you while you were seated at the edge of the boxing ring and he was standing. Bending at the waist, he rested his hands on his knees so his eyes were level with yours.

You swallowed hard and heat rose to your cheeks as he continued to stare at you before he said in a low voice.

“I just don’t wanna see you get hurt anymore and especially not because of a cat, sweetheart.” He said.

His words didn’t faze you on the outside but on the inside you felt hot, and butterflies appeared from the depths of your stomach but you kept yourself calm and collected before responding to him.

“Well that’s why I have you, right? To teach me, I mean.” You said softly and trying to make it sound like you DIDN’T find him attractive, but you were pretty sure you were failing miserably.

He broke the awkward silence between you.

“Ya ready to do it again tomorrow?” He asked. “I gotta get to work.”

“Oh yes, absolutely but I’d really like to pay you for your time…please?” You asked.

Brock pressed his lips together in a straight line and shook his head furiously. “No, no I don’t want your money, doll. I honestly think you’re a natural fighter and I wanna teach you everything I know so you can be prepared, alright?” His voice was rough and stern.

You nodded and nervously bit down on your lower lip before changing the subject.

“Was that your work uniform you walked in wearing earlier? Can you tell me what you do or if you tell me, you’ll have to kill me?” You joked.

Brock smiled again. “Some other time, sweetheart. I’ll see ya tomorrow, same time.” He handed you a roll of tape. “Ya think you can tape up by yourself tomorrow?”

“I can do it.” You said, confidently.

He extended his index finger to point at you. “Ya know I’m gonna check it, right?”

“I know, I said I can do it, Brock.” You said with a slightly annoyed voice.

You hated being doubted.

“Ok, ok I’ll see ya tomorrow.” He said, throwing up his hands with a smug smile on his face.

**********

6 Months Later

“Come on, you can do better than that Princess!” He said condescendingly through gnashed teeth as you fought to free yourself from the tight grip he had you in, pinned against the wall. “Ya want his hands around ya pretty little neck like this again?! DO YOU?!!!” He yelled. “Come on, y/n!!

Six months ago, he never would have dared to grab you like that or yell in your face but you were much stronger now than you were then.

His hot breath hit against your face, and you managed to turn to the side, your elbow hit his forearm and his hand bent up at the wrist and you were able to quickly elbow him three times in the face.

In the six months Brock had been training you, you’ve managed to graduate from the basic boxing moves to Krav Maga where he really taught you how to protect yourself and how to inflict pain on your enemy.

You were making quick work of the sparring partners he had brought in for you to practice against. They were becoming less and less challenging and there was only one person you wanted to spar against to make you feel like if your ex attacked you, you would have the confidence to fight him off and that was Brock.

He had awakened something inside of you that you wouldn’t have known was there if it wasn’t for him. When he first started training you and said you were a natural fighter, you wanted to prove him right, that you could fight and you had the strength to not be pushed around anymore.

And the only way you were going feel good enough about your new fighting skills is if you could defeat him one on one.

“You’re gettin’ good, sweetheart…real good. Those guys are a little too easy for you, aren’t they. What do ya wanna do about it?” He asked.

“I wanna spar with you, Rumlow.” You said, breathing heavily.

Brock scratched his chin and playfully chuckled at you while shaking his head. “No, you ain’t ready for me yet, doll…you’re just not. You’re good but you’re not THAT good.” He said smugly.

You narrowed your eyes at him and suddenly became very agitated. The man was so sure that you couldn’t beat him, that he wasn’t even willing to give you a chance to prove him wrong.

Working out very close to Brock for the past six months caused you to develop some deeper feelings toward him too. Yes, you were friends but also you felt maybe he had an attraction to you like you had toward him.

There were subtle hints like you’d catch him staring at you while you were taping up your hands or getting a drink of water. Sometimes he’d wink at you when you performed well on a lesson he was teaching you. And he was smiling just a little bit more than you were used to seeing.

Anytime he put his hands on you during a lesson, he would always ask if it was ok or if he hurt you in any way to just tell him.

He never wanted to push too hard in case you weren’t ready for that yet. Sometimes after your lessons, you would take him out for a beer and he’d ask you questions about you ex.

“You can always tell me to fuck off if I’m askin’ too much, ya know. I can’t imagine it’s easy for you to talk about. Please don’t feel like you have answer me if you don’t want to. I don’t even know him but I wanna kill him for hurting ya.” He had said.

You gave him a warm smile. “I don’t really know anyone else in this city except a couple of co-workers. I don’t have anyone else to talk to about it, Brock. No other friends so thank you for listening.” You had said.

You had a feeling that he wanted to kiss you but he didn’t. Did he stop himself because he thought of you as damaged? Did he think he was taking advantage of your teacher/student relationship?

Sometimes it was all you could think about after you went home for the day. You had dreams about his lips colliding with yours, teeth nipping at your chin and jawline, and his calloused hands exploring your body, touching you in a way that you’ve wanted him to from the first second you saw him.

But maybe he was a betting man.

“You don’t think I can win, do you.” You said.

He thought he could catch you off guard by trying to punch you in the face but you were fast and blocked him.

“I ain’t gonna take it easy on ya, Princess. You know he won’t either.” And he threw another punch at you with the other fist, which you also blocked.

“I wasn’t asking you to.” You said with a coy smile before elbowing him in the stomach. “How about a little wager?”

“What do ya have in mind, y/n?” He asked.

You pondered for a brief moment. “If I win, you have to tell me what you do for work that requires you to wear all that tactical clothing.”

“Ok. And if I win?” He asked.

You moved in close so the two of you were sharing the same air, you were both breathing heavily and as your breath hit the skin on his throat, goosebumps skirted across his skin and he gazed down at you with a primal look in his eyes.

Looking up at him through your long dark lashes, you answered. “If you win, I’ll kiss you, since you’re apparently too chicken to do it.”

Brock wasn’t afraid of anything so now he was determined to win. The devilish smile that stretched across his lips told you he definitely wasn’t going to hold back and he would do whatever he had to make sure he wins the bet.

He had taught you to be very aware of your surroundings, aware of things that could be problematic like tables and other furniture that could get in the way if you had to fight off your ex in your own home but right now you were surrounded by gym equipment, the boxing ring, and the walls.

“You got yourself a bet, sweetheart.” He said.

“Well ring the bell and let’s go, Rumlow.” You replied.

As soon as that bell rang, he came after you and throwing different combination punches and kicks at you. Since Brock was bigger than you, you thought it would be best to try and wear him down so he’d make a mistake. You would use his size and strength to your advantage, ducking and weaving as he threw punch after punch at you.

Throwing all of his weight behind those punches was making him tired as you danced around him, punching him in between the shoulder blades and kicking him behind the knees but he didn’t stay down.

The rage in his eyes that you were so used to seeing everyday had returned as he got his second wind. Keeping his punches close to his body this time, he tried to get you to bring your hands down by attacking your body but you pulled him close to knee him in the stomach. Using all of your strength to throw him to the mat, only to watch him roll and get right back up again.

He was fast, really fast, but you took notice of his fighting patterns so you could counter with combination moves of your own.

You had to get him to the mat, it was the only way you were going to beat him. Suddenly you felt a hand around your throat like he had done earlier but this time being in the corner of the ring.

There wasn’t as much leverage you could use against the ropes as you could against the wall to try and free yourself but he left himself open, his legs were too far apart so you were able to take a swipe at his front leg causing him to fall to the mat.

Kneeing him in the chin, he fell flat on his back and you saw your opportunity to wrap your legs around his neck, in the hopes that he would yield…which he did.

“Fuck, your legs are strong!” He exclaimed, breathing deeply and trying his best to catch his breath after you climbed off of him.

You were trying to catch your breath also as you wiped the sweat from your brow. “S-so I’ve b-been told.” You said panting and trying to smile at the same time.

Brock stood up carefully so he wouldn’t lose his balance. Maybe in that brief moment in between your legs, you cut off his air supply which made you chuckle a little.

You removed your sparring helmet and started to take the fingerless fighting gloves and tape off of your hands. He did the same before he spoke again.

“Well y/n…looks like you beat me, fair and square. I supposed I gotta tell you what I do for a living now, don’t I.” He said, looking defeated.

You threw the helmet and the tape onto the mat and slowly walked over to him, still trying to catch your breath. You stopped inches away from him, the heat radiating through his t-shirt as you rested your hand against his chest and the other touched his cheek.

“Maybe another time.” You said, pushing yourself up onto your toes and gently pressing your lips to his.

Feeling how tense his body was, you pulled away and apologized only to have him pull you flush to his chest and his lips mash against yours as if he was trying to flatten and destroy your mouth.

His stubble scratched your cheeks but his lips felt so good against yours, his tongue slipped into your mouth causing you to softly moan and gasp into his mouth.

Winding strands of your hair in his fingers, he gently bit down on your bottom lip and gripped your head firmly as if to keep you from escaping.

But you let your guard down and he knew it so he swept your feet out from under you causing you to fall backwards onto the mat.

“Hey! You yielded, Rumlow!” You yelled, looking up at him. A rare genuine smile stretched across his lips. “Careful, you pull shit like that and you’re gonna end up with your head between my legs again.”

He helped you to your feet, pulling you in close and his voice sounded like a hiss from a dying fire as he whispered in your ear.

“The next time my head is between your legs, sweetheart, it will be because you want me there, trust me.” He said with a wicked smile.

His words, the gruff tone of his voice, the look he gave you…all sent delightful sparks down your spine and a guttural moan escaped your lips as he attacked your lips once again.

Caught in his firm embrace, his lips traced up and down the side of your neck before his hands gripped the hem of your t-shirt. Brock was just about to pull it over your head when you both heard knocking on the boxing ring doors and voices.

“Time’s up, Rumlow!!!” They said.

You broke apart quickly and laughed a little with each other before he yelled to the people outside the doors.

“Alright!! Just gimme a second!” He bellowed.

It’s a good thing your face was already flushed from the workout so the people that walked into the room couldn’t tell that you were blushing. Biting down on your thumb, you waited for him to come back into the ring.

“I, uh, guess we’re done for the day.” You said with a warm smile.

He replied. “Let’s go, doll. I’ll take ya home.”

After many long kisses outside your apartment door, and even though you didn’t want to, you finally said goodbye to Brock. Your heavy make out session at the gym made you realize that before having him in between your legs again, maybe a date first would be a better decision.

Smiling from ear to ear as you closed the door, you placed your keys on the table and put down your gym bag.

And that’s when he made his presence known. There was a touch of acid in that cold, hard voice of his when he spoke.

“Hello sweetheart. You’re getting better and better at covering your tracks. I’m impressed. Miss me?”

He had found you…again. And by the tone of his voice, he sounded like he wasn’t letting you get away this time.

Others that may enjoy: @fluffyprettykitty @qu1etwolf @redstarsandnightmares @gijos

#brock rumlow #brock rumlow x reader #brock rumlow x female reader #frank grillo #ericca’s 400 follower celebration #love you lily #ericca answers

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vraiao · 9 months ago

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✰ . this is just pure fluff because i love xiao so much he is my everything and i would die for him, gn!reader and gn pronouns used

a/n: this is inspired by this really amazing xiao fluff I just read, written by @/the-traveling-witch(linked). ALSO!! thank u guys lots for all of the notes on my dan heng fic I'm literally blushing <3

this is NOT proof read i am too damn tired😭

you and xiao had been pretty close for quite some time now, and had both fallen pretty hard for each other, despite each of you being completely oblivious to the other's feelings. xiao had no idea how you managed to crack the icy and distant walls he had so carefully built around himself or why he even let you do that, but he was grateful nonetheless.

today, you both sat atop mt. aocang, chatting about various small topics over dinner, and unbeknownst to you, he swore to himself that you would know just how deeply he felt for you before you both parted ways for the day. as he spoke, you couldn't help but acknowledge the way a soft smile graced his lips every so often and the hypnotic softness of his voice that you swear you could fall asleep to. not only that, but you appreciated just how ethereal he looked. the sun setting shone directly on his back, creating an almost angelic aura around him that perfectly complimented his glowing amber eyes. his hair swayed in perfect rhythm with the wind, and occasionally his bangs would connect at the ends, creating a perfect heart only for a moment.

xiao, on the other hand, was admiring how the sun's rays were cast on you, highlighting every nook and cranny of your perfect face. being around you spawned a feeling of warmth that tugged at his heartstrings in all the right ways-- something that he was very unaccustomed to. he would listen to your endless stories about your adventures in liyue harbor for the rest of his life if he could, never getting bored of the interesting things and people you came across. "ah, so you enjoyed your time in the recent lantern rite festival as well," he said as you finished up the story you were telling.

your eyes then lit up, as if you had remembered something important. "speaking of the lantern rite festival.. xiao, do you remember the first time we met?" you regarded him with a soft, expectant smile as you waited for his response.

how could he not remember? that fateful day, meeting you, was the moment everything changed for him. because you, a shining light, were cast directly into his life that was once plagued with shadows.

it was the day of the lantern rite festival two years back from today, and the only day that xiao could take a break from his duties as protector of his beloved city, liyue. he saw no point in the meaningless tradition of releasing thousands of lanterns into the sky every year, but he'd watch them every year regardless as a tribute to his fallen comrades who once loved the lanterns.

he was making his way over to mt. tianheng because it sat directly over liyue harbor, and he could see the entire city from that spot, including every light that flew into the sky, while he could also watch out for any potential danger. nearing the area he usually sat, his eyes landed on you, sitting in the very spot that he usually did. you didn't seem like a threat, but he still neared with caution. "how come you aren't in the city, mortal?"

upon hearing his voice, you turned to face him and smiled upon seeing his face, holding up a painting of the view before you two so he could see it. "well the view seemed nice, so why not paint it!" you exclaimed. you didn't recognize him as the protector of liyue since you were clearly not from the area, as shown by the fontaine attire you wore. you patted the spot next to you, beckoning him to sit. "and you are?"

he sat down next to you, eyes scanning the painting in your hands. "i am known as adeptus xiao, protector of liyue," he said, pausing before he continued, "your painting is very well crafted. it captures the scene before us wonderfully." hearing his words, you respond with a smile before gently setting your painting down on the grass before you. "I'm actually finished with this painting so.." you trailed off, pulling an empty canvas and a few more colors out of your bag. "can i paint you? if you don't mind, of course."

xiao was seemingly caught off guard by your quest, his initial thought being to refuse. but, he thought it over and decided that no harm could come from a simple painting. he responded with a curt nod. "sure.. go ahead. i suppose it wouldn't hurt." you grinned, already beginning to paint, "great!"

for the rest of the night, you both watched the lights together while you painted him, simultaneously getting to know him by occasionally starting small talk.

he nodded, regarding you with a gentle smile. "yes, of course i do," he said. to that, you smiled. "so, i was thinking.." you started to say before trailing off. he tilted his head to the side, saying nothing and waiting for you to continue.

lost in your thoughts, you snapped out of it when you realized he was waiting for you to say what you were thinking. "we should see the lanterns at the same spot again this year!" you exclaimed.a soft smile graced his lips again. the thought of spending this night watching the lanterns with you granted him a feeling of peace. "I agree, that's a wonderful idea," he said.

with a grin, you stood up, packing your things in a hurry before grabbing his hand and pulling him out of his seat as you began to walk. "glad we're on the same page," you said with a soft laugh. "if we leave now, we'll make it just before the lanterns are released!" the feeling of your hand interlocked with his sent a burning feeling straight to his face, which he prayed wouldn't be made visible by a rosy hue on his cheeks. he suddenly began to wonder why you didn't just ask him to teleport you both, but didn't question it and followed alongside you anyway.

after walking quite a distance, you both finally made it to mt. tianheng, and stood in the very spot that connected you both some time ago. upon arriving, the once-setting sun had now reached its full descent, and now the moon and the stars had graced the sky with their presence. you let go of xiao's hand when you stopped walking, which left a strange feeling of absence within him.

he looked out into the stars absentmindedly while you set down your things, thinking of just what to say to you. noticing his silence, you turned to face him, but to your surprise, he was already facing you. you were going to speak, but he interrupted. "hey, can I tell you something?" he said, soft-spoken with a hint of unsureness in his voice.

you regarded him with a soft smile and nodded. "of course, xiao! you can tell me anything." his heart fluttered, and with a deep breath, he began.

"honestly, i'm not exactly sure how to put this into words correctly, but.." he trailed off and paused for a moment before speaking again as he regained his train of thought. "y/n, from the moment we met, you brought the feeling of happiness back into my life, that of which I wasn't sure i'd ever feel again." he grabbed your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze before continuing, his fingers intertwined with yours.

"even thinking of you makes my karma feel lighter, and I guess what I'm trying to say is.." in the corner of his eye, he could see a blink of light, and another, and another. one by one, the lanterns flew into the air, gradually painting the sky with bright oranges and reds, as if the stars themselves had come closer just for this moment. without thinking, he placed a gentle hand on the back of your head, resting it in your hair as he leaned in closer. before you knew it, your lips met in a passionate kiss that conveyed his feelings better than his words could.

initially, your eyes widened in shock at the sudden contact, but they fluttered closed as he detangled his hand from yours and placed it on your waist, pulling you closer. his other hand moved from your hair and rested on your cheek, lightly caressing your soft skin with his thumb.

pulling away, your soft breaths mingled with his, the light from the lanterns perfectly illuminating your face while complementing the hues of red that painted your cheeks as he stared lovingly into your eyes.

"i love you," he whispered.

#xiao fluff #genshin xiao #fluff #xiao #genshin impact fluff #genshin fluff #i love xiao #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #xiao x reader

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mooncello · 6 months ago

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Thanks for the tags @artsyunderstudy (queuing up some star trek snowbaz for tonight) and @you-remind-me-of-the-babe (simply cannot wait for this fic to premiere). And thanks to everyone who has tagged me recently. I've been quiet for a few weeks. Life and work and mental health shit, but also I got so very stuck with both my wips. I invested a lot of creative energy into lost boys and then got ... lost tbh. Burned out. All the joy got sucked out, which broke my heart. It's on a shelf right now. I'll return to it (that Baz is very precious to me) but I need a break. I can't bear to look at it atm.

And then! My COBB decided to set fire to my original outline and go off on an unanticipated hike through the woods without a map. No nav equipment. I'm not even confident it knows which star is north. It's just ... wandering around with zero fucks about due dates or timelines, which has sent me into a panic spiral. My one wip is an angsty teenager who has shut himself in his room and refuses to talk (and like same dude), and the other thinks they're Bear Grylls with the survival instincts of a spoiled house cat. EPIC TIMES.

So I started a new wip. (Obviously.)

I needed something fun. Joyful. Something that reminded me why I like writing in the first place. And my boys Dev and Niall fucking showed up, and I'm halfway done with a lil Watford-era, canon divergent wip from their perspectives. It's the most self-indulgent thing I have ever written, and I'm having a blast. Eternal love to my fellow Dev/Niall stan and comrade (and beta!) @valeffelees, and to @bookish-bogwitch and @thewholelemon for cheering this fic on. And thanks to @iamamythologicalcreature and @best--dress for chatting about craft and process and validating that sometimes projects need rest and restoration, and breaks are a natural part of creativity.

Short snip of untitled deniall fic below the cut:

Niall POV, Watford, year 7

“You’re the worst, Niall.” I grin. “So you always say.” I stretch my arms up and flex my fingers before interlacing them behind my head. “And yet you keep running to me for advice.” Dev’s nostrils flare, and there’s a very real moment I think he’s gonna punch me in the shoulder, but then his face splits into a sharp, crooked smile, and he shucks off his blazer. He tosses it toward his bed, but it only partially makes it and falls to the floor. “You give the best advice,” Dev says, and I see the flash of his tongue piercing. “You’re so practical.” He begins undressing. Casual, unhurried movements, until his entire school uniform is a wrinkled bundle on his bed, sans jacket which is still on the floor, and he’s rooting around his dresser in nothing but pants and socks. The light from the late afternoon sun cuts through our window of Mummers, casting him in muted orange and amber. He does this all the time. Mindlessly strips in front of me. We don’t have an ensuite like Baz does (the lucky bastard), and Dev has always been comfortable in his body. He’s open and confident in a way that makes my chest ache. I wish I were more like that, but I’m sinew and bone whereas Dev is polish and muscle. Half the time I feel like something the cat drags in, and Dev, well … Dev’s the cat.

tags and hellos 🩵 @drowninginships, @run-for-chamo-miles, @youarenevertooold, @blackberrysummerblog, @orange-peony

@hushed-chorus, @whatevertheweather, @shrekgogurt, @cutestkilla, @facewithoutheart

@you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @artsyunderstudy, @emeryhall, @rimeswithpurple, @shemakesmeforget

@raenestee, @skeedelvee, @rbkzz

#dev pitch my beloved #niall my geeky love #deniall #carry on #carry on fanfiction #my writing #wipsday

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whispering-radiance · 7 months ago

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| Glow of amber | Chapter [#1]

Word count: [ ~2890 ]

Hello everybody! This is the first story that I’m actually showing to people — so I’m a bit nervous … Although I feel confident about my English, it’s not my first language so there might be some grammatical errors along the way.

I’ve made a post explaining this AU some time ago, you can give it a read if you want to, but I will explain everything in the story eventually.

With that being said, I invite you below

The corridors of Norrisville high were unusually quiet. There was no soul around, not even a single student running late for their classes. Janitor had already done his round around the school, mopping the floor and sweeping dust bunnies under the lockers. Halls remained empty for most of the day, not unless a teacher had to rush to the building to file some important documents or to prepare materials for another school year.

While the other parts of school slumbered, the main hall brimmed with life. As usual, a great Ninja battle had left a great damage on the property, and this time, the repair team was tasked with fixing a considerably huge hole in the wall. But since the school year was ending, there wasn’t a need to do it immediately, so all of the heavy work was left for the vacation period.

As careful as they wanted to be, they unfortunately caused some small, additional “scratches”. Cement was splattered on few lockers, a bucket of paint rolled all over the floor, a new guy made some mistakes while reading the blueprints and connected water pipes into one big circle, and heavy machines were dragged across the most beautiful thing in the Norrisville highschool, a carp mosaic decorated by strange, yellow gem.

School itself didn’t have anything precious to guard, but the business responsible for the construction team and equipment demanded to hire someone to protect the expensive materials.

It was a bright night and a full moon decorated the sky.

“It’s just you and me, buddy!” A night guard shook his flashlight and locked the back door. He also pinned a card with “Jeremy” written on it. “Maybe they don’t pay much but after tonight we’ll be able to afford a brand new keyboard!”

He kept talking with his trusty flashlight as he walked down the hallway. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, he made sure to bang on every locker to check for hidden intruders, but he found nothing. Maybe it was for the better, even if it meant the rest of the night being extremely boring.

The sound of his own footsteps was creeping him out. He wished he could at least turn on the big lights and get rid of the uncomfortable darkness, but due to safety and financial reasons, power was cut off for the night.

“Ughhh! This stinks!” He moved his light around him.”I know I’ve said that I’m over my fear of the dark but… Jeez… I will go insane before this shift ends.”

Jeremy glanced at his flashlight again.

“I heard that this school has a glass ceiling” He shook it and made a squeaky voice. “It’s in the main hall! And you know what else is in there? Equipment we have to keep an eye on! How about we just go in there and enjoy our shift under the bright moonlight?”

“Oh buddy!” He smiled. “You always have the best ideas!”

Thanks to the gentle rays of the moon, the Main lobby looked enchanted, despite it being a construction site. Heavy machines and bags of cement were covered by large blankets, and the hole in the wall was well secured. The whole room seemed very inviting, yet something felt weird. The giant mosaic of golden carp was beautiful, but bathed in moonlight it gave off an eerie energy. Jeremy agreed with his trusty flashlight that they should avoid getting closer to it.

After doing the necessary check up, he lied down on the floor and leaned against a pillar.

“Everything is where it’s supposed to be…Nothing was stolen… no intruders…” He yawned. “Darkness was terrifying but besides that…– Well I didn’t expect this job to be this boring”

His eyelids felt heavy.

“What if I just… take a quick nap…?” He looked around the room one last time.”If there’s no boss around then you can do what you want.”

After just a few minutes, he was drooling on the floor.

“I’ve been stuck here for far too long…”

A husky voice echoed in his ears. Jeremy’s eyes were quick to open. He didn’t know what he was seeing, but one thing was sure, he wasn’t in the lobby anymore. The amber sky seemed to be stretching for miles. Whatever he was standing on didn’t feel right, on the one hand it was slippery like glass, but at the same time it felt sticky, like if it wanted to trap him.

Jeremy looked around, he wasn’t alone, but he couldn't locate the person he had just heard.

“I’m alone— All alone!” The voice cried loudly. “What’s the point of keeping me here anymore?! The Sorcerer is gone after all…”

A gigantic shadow of a bird flew just above Jeremy’s head.

“But it’s not about the sorcerer!” Huge bird landed and laughed to itself. “It’s because he hates me. Oh, he wants me here for all eternity!.. To hell with him!”

Demonic creature hit the floor with all its rage. This was enough to make Jeremy fall down and scream out of fear. As he was laying on the floor, slowly sticking more and more, he expected to wake up at any moment. He heard another hellish screech and sound of sharp talons getting closer very quickly.

Jeremy opened his eyes, hoping that he would see the familiar moonlight. But instead he was greeted by a pair of glowing, red eyes analyzing his every movement. The head of the creature was just a skull of a bird with a few blue markings that resembled a warpaint. The bird demon was smiling, sending chills down Jeremy’s spine.

“A visitor…” Its voice echoed through his head. “Tsch, not anyone I know…– How bothersome.”

“I.. I am… I…” Night guard was squeaking like a mouse.”I’m Jeremy! Just a simple guard!”

“I didn’t ask! And frankly I’m not interested in hearing about your pitiful life!” The demon screamed and threw Jeremy back. “I hate humans. You always think of yourself as heroes! Think that your lives are somehow more important than other beings!”

“I don’t consider myself a hero…” He tried to stand up. “I’m nothing compared to our town's savior, the Ninja!”

Creature went silent, and so did the boy. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, everything felt so real that he started questioning if it really was a dream. Bird demon approached him in silence.

“Ah… so he’s a hero.” Its last word came out with a lot of bitterness. “Yes… Hm, yes, it was very heroic of him to slit my throat with his blade, disrespect my body by ripping away my feathers… and then trap my spirit here! Who you call a hero is nothing more than a filthy murderer.”

Jeremy stood confused.

“From what you’ve said… It sounds like… well… you don’t paint ninja in a good light” He tried pinching himself in order to escape this dream. “I don’t think he would have done all that without a good reason.”

The black shadow of a bird turned into flames, and from them it reformed itself in a much different shape. No longer was it a monster looking down at him, but simply a man. His body was translucent and colored like a bright ember. He was wearing damaged samurai armor, wings dragged behind him like a cape, and in his hand he held a broken blade. His gaze was intense and drilling, but not as wild as in his bird form.

“Did I say something wrong!?” Jeremy was trembling. “I am terribly sorry! I… I know nothing about the ninja… but… I thought he’s an honorable guy!”

“I think this whole conversation started on a wrong note.” Warrior dropped his blade.”Don’t think I’ve changed my mind about humans— my hatred runs deep. But since you’re already here, I think you deserve to learn a few things about your hero.”

“Well… I don’t want to take your time!” He shook his head.”Maybe you can just— wake me up! And I won’t be bothering you anymore!”

The spirit tried his best to give a sincere looking smile.

“You’ll miss out on some valuable knowledge.” He shrugged. “You know, in the past people would do anything to have such a conversation.”

Night guard took a deep breath.

“Then if I may ask… who are you?”

“I’m glad you asked.” His chuckle sounded a bit forced.”People used to call me a Tengu— a bird spirit. I was the greatest swordsman in the land, and a noble one as well. I never declined a duel, not even to a human. I always fought with honor.”

“Why are you here then?”

“Because of the ninja, of course!” Tengu was making circles around the scared boy. “You see, one day he challenged me to a duel. He was confident about his powers, but confidence alone isn’t enough to win. I defeated him and sent him on his way.”

“But…”

“Shhh” He put his finger up.”Some time had passed and I was sure I wouldn’t see him again. Oh but I was wrong— He was furious that I'd managed to defeat him! He came to claim his victory and he was ready to do so at any price!”

“If you’ve beaten him once— then how come you didn’t manage to win again?” Concentrating on Tengu’s story made him stop shaking.

“This time he had a friend.” He clenched his fist. “I don’t know what he had said to that goddess to make her think I was the enemy… But he was successful…He challenged me to an uneven battle. I couldn’t win against someone backed up by a heavenly power…”

Tengu gasped theatrically.

“They imprisoned me here.” He spread his arms.”In a stone they’d called “Eye of Eternities”!”

Jeremy scratched his head.

“This is confusing…” He was trying to analyze the story. “I’m having a hard time believing all this— It was hard for me to believe in ninja… and you’re spitting nonsense about spirits and gods.”

“You humans used to be more spiritual back then.” Tengu frowned. “You may want to argue with me about your beliefs, but you must believe me that it’s all real.”

“First of all, this is a dream!” Jeremy spouted. “This is just a figment of my imagination!”

“Wrong.” Tengu moved his hand towards the orange sky and after a moment it became clear like a window. “There you are. Lying unconscious on the school floor.”

“But— how— this is impossible!”

“Oh well— If you knew anything about spirits, then you’d know that you should be very careful about what you do during the full moon.” Tengu shook his head in disapproval. “For you, it might seem like a dream, but for me, it’s a very real visit.”

The young night guard wandered lost in his thoughts. Nothing made sense. Things he considered to be just fairy tales were real this whole time.

“Why didn’t you just attack me?” Jeremy felt like he should have asked this question earlier.

“If I’ve attacked you, you’d simply wake up…None of us would have gotten anything out of this meeting.”

Even though the mind of a Tengu was broken after centuries of imprisonment, he knew he should always take the opportunity when it’s there. It’s not everyday that he has a chance to speak with someone. Boy was naive, he noticed it right away. Maybe if he plays his cards right, he’ll be able to make this night interesting.

“Tell me, Jimmy…”

“It’s Jeremy, actually.” He said quietly.

“Whatever…” Tengu said under his nose.”Do you like helping others?”

“Oh I…— I… sure! Who doesn’t?” Jeremy giggled. “I’ve had many bullies during middle school and high school, but no one was kind enough to give me a helping hand…So now I help others in need!”

“Truly amazing…” He ran his hand across his face. “Would you like to help me then?”

Boy stood shocked.

“Me? Help you? But…—“

“You’ve said you help those in need, am I right?”

“Jeez… yes…—“ He tried looking for an excuse. “Well… From what you’ve said… it seems there’s no reason for you to be here… But how am I supposed to help!? I’m just human! And I didn’t even have my 20th birthday yet!”

“Don’t panic and listen.” Tengu grabbed him by his shoulder. “I can’t free myself from the inside, this prison can be open only from the outside.”

“Didn’t you say that this stone was made by a god?” Jeremy was sweating nervously. “Isn’t it like… crazy powerful?”

Tangu looked up.

“Maybe at the beginning, yes” He chuckled. “But nothing is truly eternal. This stone went through a lot and it was even cracked on multiple occasions. I can feel how weak it has become. I don’t think Ninja is needed for the job anymore.”

He smiled mischievously.

“A brute force might be just enough to shatter this prison.”

“You want me to crack the stone?” Jeremy panicked. “But that would be a destruction of property! I’d be punished for it! Oh man— I don’t have money for such a fine.”

“No one will know about it!” He screamed enthusiastically, trying to earn the boy's trust. “After you get me out I will simply fix it! I promise!”

Jeremy looked at Tengu with mixed emotions.

“All you need is a hammer, or other tool!” Tengu smiled. “It just so happens that the equipment is right there!”

“And what will you do once you get out?”

Spirit turned around, hiding his face from the boy.

“I’ll return home.” He exclaimed. “I miss my mountain…Maybe I’ll even say hi to old friends.”

He felt conflicted. Tengu’s story felt genuine, but despite his reassuring words, he still felt freaked out by the spirit.

There were several outcomes of this encounter, and he preferred not to know how it would end if he said “no” to him.

“I’ll try my best…” There wasn’t much confidence in Jeremy’s voice. “Just…– How do I wake up?”

Spirit of the warrior smiled and came closer to the boy.

“Don’t worry. I’ll help you.” Smile disappeared from his face, and he lowered his voice. “I’m counting on you…– Don’t fail me.”

His last words sounded like a threat. But before Jermey was able to say anything, he felt a powerful punch hit his stomach. He hasn't experienced such pain before. His eyes faded to black.

He was back.

Jeremy jumped up from the floor. He was sweating and breathing quickly, he could feel his heart pounding his chest, like if it was about to break free from the ribs of his body. He tried to calm down but what he just experienced was simply too much. He was scared for his life.

He grabbed his trusty flashlight.

“I’m so glad to see you again!” He screamed. “I’ve had the weirdest dream of my life! There was this giant bird, and then shoosh! He changed into a samurai, and he told me…”

Jeremy turned his head towards the mosaic. The stone was glowing like a warning sign, it was bright enough to light up the whole hall. It was calling him.

“...He told me to break the stone…” He put down his light. “I’m sorry… I think you should just wait here…Close your eyes while we’re at it…”

He took a deep breath and walked towards boxes of equipment. He didn’t want to do this, but what will happen to him if he decides to flee now? Will he be cursed forever? Will his family die? The thought of spirits, or worse, demons, haunting him for the rest of his life was much worse than paying a few bucks for destroying one thing on the property.

A hammer laid heavy in his hand.

As he was getting closer to the stone, he felt as if the golden carp was judging his every action. It looked angry in the bright moonlight, and the glow of the amber prison made its scales look alive.

Stress was making him gasp for air. He knelt down and lifted his hammer high, ready to strike the stone.

His whole body was shaking.

“Please… let this be over with.” He closed his eyes and struck the stone.

His first hit was met with a lot of resilience, but it didn’t make him stop. On each next hit he was striking it harder and harder, and with each one he could feel the surface cracking.

The light coming from the stone was getting dangerously intense, and after dealing another blow, he was violently thrown across the hall by a strange and powerful force.

Tiny bits of amber scattered across the floor, and the hammer hit the ground with a loud bang. Jeremy tried to pick himself up, but his body was hurting from the fall.

And then he heard it, a terrifying screech.

If you’ve managed to reach this section, I want to give you my biggest thanks for taking time out of your precious life to give my story a read ♥️♥️

I might not be the best writer, but I enjoy what I do — and besides, there’s always room for improvement

And remember kids, don’t ever trust a Tengu trapped in a magical stone, he’s mad and insanely good at lying

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