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a-b-riddle · 8 months ago

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Part 9 (unrevised version). Since I've gotten 6 messages and a good bit of asks requesting to view it. Here it is, not in its final form.

You had hoped Monday would have treated you better than the past two days, but walking up to your shop in the pouring rain to already see a body standing outside waiting wasn't a good sign.

Customers who waited outside your shop always made you feel uncomfortable. But when you finally got close enough, you took in the person before you.

"We don't open for another hour." Your voice flat as you fished for your keys.

"I'll wait." Was Kyle's reply.

"Then you'll have to do it outside." You said, the key sliding into the lock. He didn't argue as you shut the door behind you. Didn't even bother knocking when, after thirty minutes, you looked in the window to see that the wind was causing the rain to blow sideways.

You relented. Letting him in thirty minutes earlier. It was a small mercy, even if he was soaked to the bone. You almost felt bad when his chattering teeth were the only thing you could hear.

Almost.

"I take it John told you about our little talk yesterday." You said, going about your business. Engaging in the conversation as if you were talking about the shitty weather that had tried to drown him.

"He did." He gave a sniffle. Running a hand over his beautiful, wet face. Droplets still staking their claim on his skin. "H-he alssso t-t-told us we were on our own in begging for our own f-forgiveness. Ra-ra- rightly s-s-s-so."

You huffed. Guilt beginning to eat at you before you turned, disappearing to the back of the store and coming back with a shirt and a blanket. "You left the shirt here."

He had no shame and wasted no time in taking off his jacket and soaked shirt. His chiseled body exposed to you. It was almost instinct to reach out and touch the soft skin. You luckily possessed some form of self restraint.

"So are you here to promise to make amends as well?" You crossed your arms. You meant it as a sign that you were wanting to create distance, but honestly you didn't trust yourself. It was second nature. Kyle and Johnny were tied when it came to having to always touch you.

Probably why his ghosting sucked so bad.

"I'd like to take you out." You couldn't help the laugh that escaped you. It wasn't until Kyle's face fell that you realized, "Oh, you're actually serious."

He opened his mouth, ready to no doubt give you the same exact promises of doing better that John had given you the day before. Fortunately for Kyle, you didn't have the time to entertain a conversation.

"Fine." You immediately relented. No argument. "That Indian place where I asked you to go four months ago. Seven. If you manage to figure out which place, then I'll be meeting you there. Otherwise you'll be eating alone."

Kyle stood still. Unprepared for the fact that you had... agreed. You actually agreed to let him take you out.

"I can pick you up."

"Not sure what time I'll be getting off today. Might go home first. Might just go straight there." You started opening tasks again. "I have to finish setting up. Seven sharp.

"Seven sharp." He repeated, his smile lighting up the room.

It made you feel sick.

It was 6:45 when your phone started ringing. It was Kyle. Confirming that he was at the restaurant you were supposed to go.

7:00. He had gotten the two of you a table. He'll go ahead and order you a drink. They had mango lassi, but wasn't sure if you wanted to stick to just water.

7:15 He tries calling you. When it goes to voicemail, a follow up text is sent asking if you're okay.

At 7:20, while sitting on the couch you text back. Sorry. Something came up. We'll reschedule, I promise.

If you knew giving them a taste of their own medicine felt so good, you would have done it ages ago. You felt no since of shame in sending it. You hated being petty, but you wanted them to know what it felt like.

John had a lot more of verbal outbursts coming his way and if Johnny was hoping for a chance, he would be lucky if you had sex with him again before marriage.

Ten minutes later, on the dot, there was a knocking on your door. Your food had arrived. Blindly, you opened the door. Only instead of the take out you had delivered, Kyle stood there. Yet again soaked to the bone and this time out of breath.

"How did you know I was here?" Was the first thing that had come into your mind. If anything, he would have went by the shop first, but no. He came here. You weren't the type to deviate from a schedule, but christ. Simon at your date and then the club. John at the shop on your day off. Now this. "I swear to fucking god this fucking stalking-"

"Easy now, Love. No one's stalking you." Bullshit.

Absolute bullshit. They were military. Really important and special connections type of military, but this was bullshit. They were keeping tabs on you somehow.

"I know for a fucking fact that place is only ten minutes away. So you didn't have time to check out my store-- where I should be-- before coming here. So I'm going to ask you again, how did you know I was here?"

"Okay," he shrugged. "Stalking. We're stalking you." Kyle was lying. We he nodded like a bobblehead, you knew whatever was coming out of his mouth was bullshit. The first time you confirmed it was after Johnny had volunteered to make haggis. Kyle told him it was good, no doubt hoping to spare his feelings.

"Kyle." You warned, eyes narrowed and teeth clenched. He paused as if trying to form another lie, but coming up short. Sighing in defeat, he confessed.

"Blocking us didn't stop you from sharing your location." In that moment, you could have strangled him. They had been still using your location. Something you had given them as a way to find you if you ever needed help. Now those assholes were using it for their own benefit.

"Son of a-" you shut your mouth. "I can't do this with you right now, okay?" You didn't confess that your publisher had asked for a last minute zoom call in the middle of your busiest work hour to see how you felt about doing a few meet and greets, all expenses paid.

Good news, but still... overwhelming. You still felt like an imposter. That you didn't deserve the hype you were getting. Your story wasn't that good. Your characters didn't hold much depth.

"Everything okay?" You didn't want to tell him. Didn't want to give him the chance to offer the reassurance you desperately needed for something he had no idea about.

"Why?" You asked, changing the subject. "I just want to know why? With John I get that the job gets stressful and needing someone to take-"

"No," he finished. "That's not an excuse. It's a reason. Not an excuse." His jaw clenched. "There is no excuse for how any of us treated you."

"Then what was your reason?" you asked. "I'm finding it very hard that someone who quite actively avoided me suddenly wants to get back together."

"I slacked off?" He shrugged. "I figured there were four of us and if I wasn't able to be there, it wouldn't make a difference."

"If you're just going to lie, Kyle, there is no point in continuing this conversation." You go to close the door only for his hand to stop you.

He stands there, looking at the ground. Even from the this angle you can see him take his bottom lip between his teeth.

He's nervous.

You step back. Giving him the option of coming in and saying it is whatever it is he needs to stay. He may be an ass like the rest of them, but this isn't exactly a conversation you want to have in the hallway for your nosey neighbors to hear.

He takes the silent invitation. Walking in and not speaking until you click the door shut. "You want the truth?" His voice is soft, but there is something else behind it. Anger?

"No," you say sardonically. "Please. Lie to me." He sighed, but didn't say anything. You were exhausted. The past few days had been a back-to-back rollercoaster of emotions. You were drained. You didn't have it in you for this right now. "Kyle-"

"I thought you only kept asking because you felt bad for me." He said the words so quickly, it took you a moment to process them. He thought.... you felt bad for him? "Like you were still trying to include me even if you didn't want to."

"Why?" Was the only thing you could come up with. You didn't have the energy to try to come up with your own reasoning for his admission.

"Don't think I don't know how I am compared to the them." He scoffed. You always knew the hierarchy of their work, even if you didn't know all the details. John was at the top. Captain and head bitch in charge. Simon was the lieutenant with Johnny and Kyle as Sergeants. Kyle was the youngest of the group by two years, but still. What was there to compare?

"So you're not a Captain or Lieutenant?" you shrug. "Johnny is the same rank as you. And you are the youngest and I'm sure with time you'll get to a position-"

"Black!" He said. "I'm black. I am the only fucking black guy not only in this relationship. I'm the only black guy in the 141, in the unit."

When it came to Kyle, black was the last thing you thought of. You thought of his soft brown eyes or house his hands felt so smooth against your body. How his smile could light up the room and how beautiful, how head-turning gorgeous he was. "I'm just an after thought in everything else regarding the 141, why would you be any different?"

"Ky," you were going to be sick. Was this how he really felt? With you? With the others? With work? "You know I don't feel that way, right?"

"Do you remember that time we went out? That french place?" How could you forget. The maître d' had asked Kyle to put a card on a tab before the two of you were even seated. At first you thought it was preposterous. Why would you make patrons at a fine dining restaurant do that? This wasn't a pub for Christ sakes. Kyle told you not to worry about it and handed over a card.

The two of you never went back.

"Oh my god." It dawned on you. "When they asked for your card..."

"I..." he sucked in a breath. Trying to keep his composure. "It was fucking humiliating. I was a man dressed to the fucking nines with a gorgeous girl on my arm and before I even got the chance to blow my money, I was treated like I couldn't afford it. It wasn't because of what I was wearing or who I was with. It was because of me. Of who I was. Who I am."

"Kyle," words escaped you. Nothing in that moment to reassure him that it never dawned on you. That it stupidly never dawned on you how there were times that people did look at him different. You wanted to tell him that it didn't matter. That you were just as important and lovable and respectable as the others. That you loved him just as much. Words failed you. All you could say say was, "I'm so sorry."

He swallowed, before taking in harsh breath through his nose. "It's not an excuse. I got wrapped up in my own stupid fucking head about how other people looked at me, I forgot it only mattered how you did."

"And you did." You said, aching to reach out. To touch him. Offer some comfort. Hating that he ever felt like he wasn't enough. Knowing the feeling all too well. Even if he was the one to make you feel it. "You did matter to me."

"I know." He said. You were thankful he said it clearly. Not shrugging his shoulders or nodding his head as he spoke. "I'll do anything to matter to you again." He took your hands in his, even though they had ached to hold you closer. But he knew not to test his luck. "If you want to press restart and let's take it back to the very beginning, I'll do that. I will court you and woo you and make you fall in love with me all over again because I will never fall out with you. I can't."

You weren't prepared for this. You had prepared to leave Kyle waiting in a restaurant alone. Now your heart ached in your chest at the idea of letting him ever think he wasn't enough because of the color of his skin.

"It doesn't have to be now or tomorrow or next week or next fucking month." He squeezed your hands the same way had John had. With the exact same intensity and promise. "Just let me try again. I won't let you down this time. I'll put in the work."

"I don't want you to feel like you have to work to make this relationship work, Kyle." You protest, wanting to pull your hands away. Free from the spell his touch had seem to be putting you under.

He smiled. Not enough to show off his teeth, but enough where have of his face lifted up. "It's not the type of work with long hours and a shit commute. Loving you is the same kind of work an artist puts into making a masterpiece. Pouring everything into it and getting something beautiful in return."

Before you could comprehend it, your face was wet. "Kyle." Your lips quivered, a sob threatening to come out. "I never felt like I needed to spend time with you, Ky." You sniffled. "I fucking wanted to. I missed you." You were so close. You needed to reel it in. Get it together.

"I just didn't understand how you could." His confession broke any restraint you had. Your hand flew to your mouth, trying to subdue your cries. When Kyle pulled you to his chest, his arms wrapping around you, you allowed yourself to crumble.

Not even for yourself, but for him.

For the kind heart you now knew broke with every sideways glance from passer-byes. For the hateful and prejudice world you lived in and for how they could overlook such a wonderful man just because of something as basic as the color of his skin.

You weren't sure how long you stood crying. You weren't certain if the knock on the door behind him actually happened or something your mind had conjured to try and pull you from your fit.

Eventually you did pull away from him. Your face covered in snot and tears. Seeing that you still were in need of it, Kyle pulled you back to him, only this time your face wasn't buried into his shirt.

You stood there. His arms wrapped around your back while yours found their home around his waist.

"I used to love when you would come back to my place directly from base as soon as you got back from a deployment." You said, breaking the silence. "I would be waiting like a kid on Christmas waiting to see what trinket made you think of me. You made me feel like even though we were so far away, you still thought about me."

"Always." He said, before his lips pressed against the top of your head. "Not a day I didn't miss being here with you."

The two of you eventually settled down on the couch. Both on opposite ends with a hot cup of tea in your hands and the array of take out containers half empty. You had planned for a night of eating your feelings so there was luckily enough food for two.

"I don't want to say no." You admitted. "But I need time. Before I even think about saying yes to all of this again."

"Not all of this," he reminded. "Just me. I'm doing my part in groveling, let the others figure it out. Or at least that's just what Price told us. Although you would be doing all of us a favor if you talked to Johnny?" Your ears perked up. You hadn't seen or heard from Johnny since Friday.

"What's wrong with Johnny?" You asked.

"Lad didn't cope well with you going on your date." Not that you had fucked him and said it was a mistake.... or maybe he kept that tidbit to himsle.f

"It wasn't a-" you started.

"I know," he said. "Simon happened to be nearby." You shot him a look, letting him know you weren't buying that lie, before he continued. "But he didn't. Fuck you're lucky we were able to drag him out of your apartment before you got back and he made an even bigger fool of himself."

"What are you talking about?" You asked. "What do you mean by drag?"

"Johnny called Simon. Told him you were on a date and to bring your ass back. Although you had made it a point to fuck him and leave-- absolutely no judgement, by the way-- he was going to make it a point to never leave your bed."

"My top sheet..." You had come home to your comforters and pillows on the floor. When making up your bed, the top sheet was missing. You had just assumed you didn't put it on or maybe it was in the wash.

"Refused to put his clothes back on. Me and John couldn't risk carrying a naked, screaming Scot through the streets without making a spectical. So we rolled him up and carried him of like a rug. A very heavy, squirmy rug."

"Oh," your hand flew to your chest. "Johnny." He was the bleeding heart of the group so you weren't exactly surprised. He was also the one who blew up shit, so he was definitely one for dramatics. "So that's how Simon figured out about dinner. But the drinks-"

"Whenever Simon is home, he's your shadow. The only time we don't worry about you is when we know he's with you." That made you roll your eyes.

"You act like he's my guard dog."

"He is."

"Is not." You defended, your conversation from Saturday night coming back to you.

"You're not my body guard, Simon." You snapped.

"Not trying to be," he said. "I was never trying to be."

"He's not." you said again.

"You're right." Kyle relented, shrugging his fucking shoulders.

"You're saying that like you're just not trying to argue with me." He took a sip of your tea. "Kyle!" He sighed before looking at you as if the last thing he wanted to do was continue on the subject.

"He is." He said. "Your guard dog."

"I mean he protects me, but all of you do." He shakes his head, a huff of air going out of his nose, almost amused.

"Not like Simon." He admits it almost as if he were ashamed. "I want to say something." He said it as if he were preparing you for the next words to come out of his mouth would change the course of the night. "I need to say it because it would make me less of a man and even less of a friend if I didn't. But I don't want you to hate me or yourself for it."

Why would you hate yourself for it?

"Fine." you agreed, giving him permission to continue. "I won't hold it against you."

"You were always the one to coordinate things to do. One-on-one dates. Helping John with paperwork when shit got to crazy and you were the only one the uptight asshole would let touch his files." You gave a small smile remembering how John had barked at a recruit to get the fuck out of his office before peppering you with kisses at your arrival. Giving small pecks of appreciation as he explained what he needed you to do and how to do it.

"Helping me after my shoulder injury and staying on my ass about the physical therapy."

"Well someone had to." You countered.

"This past Christmas when Johnny needed to get his sisters gifts so you made a whole day out of it going to see lights and ice skating." Johnny was the proud owner of a freshly bruised tailbone after landing flat on his ass and swearing off skating for the rest of his life. Feckin' ice.

"Okay?" You asked, not really sure where Kyle was headed for this. He had pointed out what a good girlfriend you were, had been. How you had always tried to be helpful and do whatever needed to help your boys out.

He stopped. He looked at you as if he were debating to tell you what he had warned you about. He looked down at the floor before taking his bottom lip in between his teeth.

"Fuck." He muttered.

"Spit it out, Kyle!" You whined, now clueless to what point he was trying to make by all the examples of what a good girlfriend you had been.

He looked at you with the same solemness that a friend looked at another friend before having to call them out on their shit, knowing that the pill they were about to be given would be a hard one to swallow.

"You never did that with Simon."

#simon ghost riley #call of duty #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #angst #john soap mactavish #angst with a happy ending #grovel

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wonderjanga · 1 month ago

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Trauma

Billy has trauma. Only, it isn’t his trauma. See, at first, he couldn’t access the previous Champions’ memories, but after a bit, they slowly eased in, even without him realizing it. Now, at first, when he realized the memories were kinda there he didn’t think much of it. He only ever really thought about them when something reminded him of something from the memories. The first time this happened in a really negative way was when the Wonder Woman and him were in Tartarus.

Marvel and Wondy: *in Tartarus, walking around and talking about whatever they were there to do*

Wondy: “This is a pain.”

Marvel: “I know-” *stops talking when he sees her a little too close to some hellfire*

As for why he suddenly stopped? He was suddenly bombarded with a memory of feeling his own flesh melt and bubble, falling off clumps as he, or rather a past Champion screamed in pain, clawing at their skin as if that would do something to stop the burning.

Wondy: “Brother? Brother is something wrong?” *sounds concerned*

Marvel: *snaps out of the memory* “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just uh…” *walks over, much to his displeasure as just feeling the heat radiating off the hellfire is making him shake*

Wondy: *feels his shaky hands, move her away from the fire* “Brother, are you sure?” *sounds more concerned now* “You’re shaking.”

Marvel: *gives her reassuring smile* “I’m fine. I promise, Diana.”

Despite what he said, he was obviously not fine. The day after this, any fire he saw was met with a violent flinch comparable to that of Martin Manhunter whenever the Martian would see a flame. Billy couldn’t stand looking at normal fire for the rest of the week due to it reminding him of the memory. He’d had no idea a past Champion had died so painfully like that. Unfortunately for the boy, this was just the beginning of him experiencing these types of flashbacks.

The next time this happened to him was three months later. The Justice League were all in Metropolis because some magicians predicted that something big would happen there. So far there’s only been a very large earthquake which resulted in everyone having to help civilians out of rubble and such. Then, for some reason, something big crawled its way out of the Earth. It was a massive, and Billy means massive, stone dragon.

The JL: *fighting this creature*

Marvel: *smacked away by its tail*

Dragon: *lunges at Marvel, mouth wide open displaying its sharp teeth*

Marvel: *freezes, genuine fear on his face*

This scene with the dragon caused him to be pulled into another memory. A similar dragon with its tail coiled around him, trying to crush him like a snake coiled around and trying to crush a mouse. The Dragon peered down at him, opened its jaws, and before he, or rather she, as he was sure he was a female Champion this time, could do anything, it chomped down. Gosh, he felt the bones in his neck, snap under its teeth. It was sort of slow too because of his/her durability.

Supes: *notices Marvel looking like he’s going through PTSD, dashes over, and tackles him out of the way of the dragon*

Marvel: *gets his head back in the game after rubbing his neck a bit*

After the fight…

Supes: *pulls Marvel aside when they get to the Watchtower* “What was that back there?”

Marvel: “Uh… What do you mean?”

Supes: “I mean, you just froze! If I hadn’t tackled you, you would’ve been eaten by that thing!” *sounds extremely concerned* “I just wanna know if something’s wrong.”

Marvel: “Nothing is! I’m sorry- I just got caught up in the moment. I won’t let it happen again.” *sounds guilty*

Supes: *sighs* “You don’t need to apologize. Just please don’t put yourself in danger like that again.”

After this incident, Billy decided he didn’t like dragons anymore. It was nothing personal- never mind, it was, but still. He won’t ever be able to look at them the same again.

Then there was arguably the worst flashback, and this wasn’t even induced when he was Marvel. It was induced as Billy, right in the of one of his radio broadcasts..

Billy: “And this just in! On Maple Street, an uncle… killed his nephew.”

You might already know whose memory he was forced to relive, but in case it wasn’t obvious, it was Aman’s.

He doesn’t exactly remember how he was killed this time, but he does remember what he felt at the time. The dirty, bitter, ugly feeling of betrayal that bubbled up inside of him. It was like it was choking him, filling up his throat and lungs, replacing his entire being with an icky tar-like feeling. Though that might not have been the betrayal at all. It might’ve just been him dying.

He couldn’t stop himself looking at Adam with anything other than genuine, cold hearted hatred after that.

#billy batson #shazam #dc captain marvel #captain marvel dc #fawcett city #fawcett #fawcett comics

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a-jynx · 1 year ago

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care to stay? (astarion x reader)

i'll let you guess, it's kinda angsty!

warnings; a lot of blood talk, injuries, hurt/comfort, a bit of angst to keep it spicy, and maybe some ooc astarion! enjoy!

Sharp whines pierced your skull, licking at the contents inside as your eyes twitched open. Squinting at the ache in your thundering bones, you slowly rolled onto your back, sitting up onto your elbow with a groan.

What in the Hells happened...? Pushing up with your shaking limbs, you staggered, falling into a cracked and crumbling wall. Squeezing your teeth that caused a dull ache behind your jaw. Glancing around, you watched as the flames flickered and danced among the rubble. The crumbling surface around you reeked of smoke powder and copper, along with the putrid stench of smoked flesh. Swallowing thickly at the dirt that coated your throat, you gripped your side while stumbling through the scattered bodies. Flashes rippled through your groaning and thrumming mind.

Your party. Your brain scattered, thinking of everyone within the walls. Shadowheart, Gale, Karlach... Astarion.

Goblins had ambushed you. Shadowheart and Astarion were busy trying to keep them off of you and Gale, whilst Karlach had gone into her fit of rage.

The smoke powder barrel. You remember shouting as the Goblins fire arrow whizzed past your lot, your eyes wide as you all ran towards the exit as the explosion boomed.

Groaning, you dragged your feet through the clutter, your boots catching on jagged stones and the thick, blackened goop of blood stuck to your boots like sap. Swaying towards another door, it's once oak colored darkened from the blast, a handprint of blood smeared across the handle. Wetting your lips, you drew your dagger and shouldered through, only to sigh as you spotted Karlach helping Shadowheart with Gale's wounds.

"My Gods," Karlach laid Gale back against the bed, quickly moving towards you as you stumbled into her hold, not caring about the sizzling as she moved you towards the other bed. "Solider, are you alright? You took the blunt of the blow, if I'm being honest, I'm shocked yet thrilled to see you alive."

You winced away from the burning sensation as your back met the soft, yet dirt-covered mattress. "Thank you, Karlach," your voice rasped, soot still coating it and resting among the blood in your teeth. "Where's Astar-"

"He went to find-"

You jumped as the door slammed open. "I can't find them anywhere! There's more goblin guts and d" his voice staled when his eyes landed on your shaking figure, Karlach's hand still hovering over. "By the Hells! Watch where you're aiming those torches," he hissed, moving to the other side of the bed, his arms over his chest as Karlach rolled her eyes.

"They're fine, Astarion, they're our fearless leader, remember?" Her comment held bite as you winced, searing pain rippled through your melting mind. Astarion's lips moved to speak, his eyes glanced towards you as he gently gasped. Blood leaked from your ears, decorating the mattress and your hair below. Eyes clenched shut as you gritted your teeth, more pain shooting through as if your jaw would splinter.

"Heal them now, dammit!" Astarion shouted as Shadowheart finished healing over Gale, who slowly sat up in bed, groaning and clenching his shoulder. The cleric moved quickly, her hands already glowing a crisp, bright blue before laying them on your temples. More searing caressed your aching skull, yet this time it felt calming. Like that of an animal licking at its wounds. Soothing. Your body shook, feeling the bond shake and mend within your soup-like mind. The sharp whines became whimpers of your own voice. A gasp ripped through your burning throat as the crackle of your rib mended itself back into place.

"Is it working? Will they be alright?" Karlach stood closer to Shadowheart as she sighed, her fingers began to shake. She was growing weak...

"I'm not sure how much more I have in me-"

"You'll continue to heal them until Avernus freezes over if it'll help them," Astarion snipped, one of his hands had moved amongst the blood and dirt, caressing your fingers in a way of saying 'I'm here'. Your chest clenched as a blood-curdling scream wretched through your throat, rattling your still bubbling mind. Shadowheart grimaced, yanking her hands back with a shout, her hands stung with a rose-like red blistering her palms. Karlach gently caressed Shadowhearts' armored shoulder and moved towards Gales' bed, who stood in shock. Astarion had moved to sit on the bed with you, his arms holding onto your shoulders as you shook and cried out.

Her healing had worked, but its' effects worked through each injury like a professional seamstress. Weaving through your veins, smothering in and over your bones' marrow, and licking at your popped eardrums and rattled brain damage from within. You withered in Astarion's grasp, shaking as tears streaked down your dirty cheeks. "I- I tried to save us," your voice shook. Astarion frowned, his thumb brushed against your skin. "Just rest, darling.." His voice was a gentle whisper, his cool skin pressed against your sweat-covered skin. Sighing against his chest, your eyes fluttered close. The soot and dirt caused a soft grimace, yet there was a comforting scent hidden amongst it.

*******

You blinked awake, wincing as you slowly sat up from the bedroll beneath you. "What the Hells," you winced more at the sound of your gravel-like voice. Humming, you took in your surroundings. Soft pillows and carpets surrounded you, a gentle candlelight flittered within the bright red tent. Goosebumps travelled up your skin as you glanced down, noticing your tunic missing and dull-white wrappings secured around your ribs. Crimson blossomed across the wrappings causing you to frown.

Jumping as the tent flaps opened, revealing Astarion with a bowl and prime white wraps resting across his forearm. His movements paused, your eyes met as he sat the bowl down and moved towards you, grabbing your flushed cheeks and slamming your lips together. You gently moaned into the kiss, flinching at pain that shot through your side. "Thank the Gods you're awake," he mumbled against your lips, resting his forehead against your own. "I thought you were gone..." His voice lower, barely a whisper.

With a smile, you rested your jaw against his rough palms, relishing in the callouses he's gained over your time together. "And leave you all alone with Gale? I couldn't." You couldn't fight back the grin as he rolled his eyes, leaning back on his calves and helping you lay back against the cot. "Because you know he'd be insufferable for me to endure alone," he smiled gently, brushing your hair from your eyes. Sighing, you leaned further into the bedroll, Astarion reached back and grabbed the bowl, dipping the piece of cloth into the cool water and dabbing it against your sweltering forehead.

"How're the others?"

"They're fine, we need to worry about getting you back to proper health, my dear," he hummed, dropping the rag back into the bowl. His fingertips dragged gently over your ribs, watching as your body jumped from the soft touches. Your brows furrowed, gently grabbing his flittering touches. "Star... Please,"

"They're alright, my love, I promise.." He sighed, gently undoing the wraps and frowning at the snarled wound. The blast had cut through your flesh like butter. Soot and dirt had embedded itself into your wound and clung to your hanging flesh, it had caused him to cringe inward at the sight of your gnarled flesh. He worked quickly, dabbing the wet cloth against the charred skin, sighing as you flinched away. Wrapping the new bandages, he sat back while wringing out the blackened and bloodied rag. "And how're you...?"

The water dripping ceased as his lips pressed into a tight line, the rag dropped next to your arm as you pushed up onto your elbows. "Star..?" You frowned, rolling onto your non-injured side as he turned towards you, his hand cupped your jaw as you reached up, catching his with a sigh. Tears brimmed his ruby colored eyes. "I thought we lost you when you fainted. There was just... So much blood. Your blood mixed with that dirt and soot, and I couldn't-" His voice caught, choking in his throat as he shook his head. "The mere scent of your blood mixed with such retched things; it made my stomach churn. Caused the bile to claw up my throat."

You stared at Astarion - you both had found safety in one another. Trust had built quickly with how many battles you both had gotten into together, the stories shared amongst with goblets of wine, confiding in one another when everything seemed hopeless. And of course, with your shared comfort came... Feelings.

Astarion hated it.

He wasn't supposed to fall for you, it was the simplest plan for him to follow, yet here he was. On the verge of crying while he coddled you close, his fingertips ghosting over your new bandages. Gently wrapping your arms around him, you tugged him down to the bedroll, racking your fingers through his thick, white curls. You shared a comfortable silence as he wrapped his arms around your chest, as carefully as he could, his hands still trembling. You fitted yourself against his chest, sighing while twisting a wild curl around your finger.

"You can touch me, my Star, I'm not made of glass-"

"No, but you need your rest... I should go-"

"Please... I don't want to be alone," you murmured into his shirt, tightening your arms around his waist as he moved to leave. Blinking, his hands hovered over your shivering skin. His lip slightly trembled before he swallowed thickly. "Ask me to stay," his voice shook as you squeezed him close, feeling your own tears well up. He believed he would hurt you more than help you. "Ask me to stay, and I will." Leaning up onto his chest, you leaned up and pressed a tight kiss to his lips.

Your mouths moved together. Teeth and tongue clanking and grinding against each other. Astarion's hands settled on your hips, soft circles tugged at your loose pants, his nails scrapping by the edge of your bandages. A gentle shudder ran through your bones as you maneuvered yourself on top of his lap, gritting your teeth to keep the pained moan buried in your throat. Pressing soft kisses to the corner of your mouth, his lips trailed down your throat to the scarred bite mark. Your body moved gently against his lap, rolling circles into his hips before he rolled you off of him, chest heaving.

"Astarion, wait,"

"We're... Resting." His voice slightly wavered, his nails gently digging into your shoulders before he moved to lay beside you. Tugging your body closer, smothering his nose into your hair, deeply inhaling as you wrapped your arms around his chest.

"When you're not constantly bleeding," his voice muffled as you rolled your eyes. His fingers gently pinched at your thigh. "Then, we'll have all the fun you deserve, my darling."

*****

You awoke to quiet murmuring - distant, gentle - as if not wanting to break the silence the moon had brought on. Lighting your pinkie, you moved to light the candle beside your bedroll, only to jump when a pair of arms tightened around your waist.

Astarion's body quivered against your own, his arms tightened. You cringed at the pain shooting through your body, but gritting your teeth, you turned over as much as his grip would allow. Grasping his shoulder, you gently shook the somewhat whimpering elf.

"Astarion, honey, wake up." You murmured into the air, huffing as he released your waist, one arm slipping from around you as it grasped at his tunic, tugging on the slightly tattered tunic. "My star, please," his fangs dipped into his bottom lip, blood dribbled from the nibbled skin. "Astarion, wake the hells up!" You shook him more, ignoring the searing pain as his claw-like nails dug into your skin. His eyes snapped open; a gasp choked through him as tears leaked down his cheeks.

Elvish ripped through his lips before he could even comprehend the words his tongue spilt. Your eyes widened, quickly setting up on your knees, both hands grasping his sticky cheeks. "Astarion, my love, breathe, please." Grasping one of his shaking hands, you placed his palm against your heaving chest, your heart beating heavily. His eyes caught yours, more tears leaked past your hands as you rubbed your thumb against his cheeks. "Breathe, my Moon, follow my rhythm."

His hands trembled against your skin, slowly his eyes blinked as he seemed to finally focus on your eyes. Swallowing thickly, he licked his lips and slowly reached up, locking his hands through your locks. Astarion tugged you into his body, his hands shook as he held you close. His breathing shook as he tightened his grip, making you whimper in his hold.

"Astarion, are you alright... Do you need a minute?" Your voice was low, attempting to keep the peace within your shared tent. You held each other close, gentle kisses caressed his skin as he leaned further into you. "Ask me to stay, and I will." You murmured into his hair, cradling him further into your body. You wanted to shield him away from everything. The fear and anger that tries to eat away at him. He looked up, slowly leaning back, but keeping his hold on you. Astarion licked his lips slowly, a shaking sigh passed through him as he moved to hold your cheeks.

"Care to stay?"

#astarion #astarion x reader #bg3 x reader #astarion x you #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x tav #reader insert #bg3 astarion #baldurs gate #astarion ancunin #baulders gate 3

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revelboo · 1 month ago

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REVELBOO!! Drop another chapter about Swindle/Tarn/Metroplex and my life shall be yours

Tarn first, but I’ll try to at least type up a Metroplex update if I’m not too busy at my day job today

L.G. Fuad Pt 3

Tarn x Reader

• “Leave it,” he growls, before shifting to step on the Pet’s trailing leash before the sparkeater can get to the little organic. Not at all amused when you dart around, grabbing onto his other ped and staring at the Pet with wide eyes as it lunges, jaws snapping. “I said leave it. Nickel?” Where is she and why do you think he’s your protector? “Go find Nickel,” he adds, sliding his ped to nudge you away and only succeeding in knocking you sprawling. Now those big eyes are offended as you look up at him, like he did it on purpose.

• Ow. Gingerly getting to your feet and rubbing your hip, you move closer to his ped again even at the risk of getting knocked away again. Because that slavering abomination is going crazy trying to get at you. It’s yet to actually hurt you, aside from tearing your skin with its awful teeth, but you’re not interested in getting dragged around like a rag doll, because you’re almost certain it thinks you’re a toy. The one with the lovely voice and mask is waving a hand at you, trying to shoo you and growling when you pointedly climb up on top of his ped and sit down, clinging to his ankle. Because whether he likes it or not, he’s safe. Cause, no way are you getting out of sight of him even if he really doesn’t like you touching him. The rest of them besides the small blue one are scary. Not to mention a couple of them had made a sound suspiciously like laughter the last time that dog thing had gotten ahold of you and hadn’t bothered to help while you’d screamed your head off.

• Venting tiredly, he gives up and start walking, ignoring your startled noise as those tiny hands cling to him to stay on top of his ped. The Pet running around his legs snapping at the organic, hearing you cry out when it manages to catch you with its teeth. Bending, he picks you up and tries to examine the injury with a servo. It doesn’t look too bad, but your little arm is leaking as you swat at his servo, little face scrunched up and eyes also leaking now. “Nickel?” He calls out again, before carrying you to medbay. “Don’t look at me like that,” he mutters as you shove at his servos when he tries to tug your arm away from where you’re clutching it to your body. Just a tiny little gash and it’s not like it was his fault. Spouting your alien gibberish at him, your shoulders slump and you finally let him carefully grip your hand between two servos so he can examine the wound, unsettled by the feel of those tiny bones.

• Freezing and not even breathing, you watch the optics behind the mask narrow and hope he doesn’t accidentally crush your hand. Muttering nonsense at you in the lovely rumbling voice, he releases your hand and you cautiously prod at the ragged, shallow gash in the back of your arm, wondering if you should be more worried about space rabies or tetanus. Shifting on your hip in his palm, you flinch away from those red optics when they slide to you again. Feel a servo touch the top of your head, sliding down your spine in a surprisingly gentle touch. Petting you like a little kitten, because you’re the same as that horror to him. A pet. Not at all surprised to realize he’s taking you to the little blue robot. Or when she starts fussing at him on sight when he bends and just dumps you on the floor in an inelegant heap, escaping both of you at not quite a run. You startle when the blue one gently examines your arm, still fussing from the sound of it.

• Striding back to his quarters, he knows you’ll be back sooner or later. You keep coming back to him no matter how many times he gets rid of you. Hating that part of him enjoys the soft warmth of you in his hands, the almost Cybertronian expressions you make at him when he talks to you, knowing you don’t understand him. And you seem to appreciate music, so you’re not a savage at least. Rubbing his servos together, he remembers the feel of those tiny bones shifting with the slightest pressure and knowing how easily it’d be to break you. And why does that thought bother him just a little bit?

#transformers x reader #idw tarn #tarn x reader

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hidtired · 9 months ago

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Unfortunate Timing [Part 1]

(Daryl Dixon x Reader) Masterlist

Description: You found out your pregnant early into your relationship with Daryl Dixon. To make matters worse? The apocalypse happens a few days later! (not fully canon)

5.7k words

Warnings (Pregnancy, gore, smut, reference to abuse, violence, fluff, walking dead stuff, ect.)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 etc.

Pre Apocalypse

You had moved to a small town in Georgia to get away from your parents. Your Aunt Mary had a little boutique and offered a job. Your parents didn’t like you weren’t married yet, not even dating either. So they have been shoving men at you for the last few years. They thought by your age you should have been married with kids. They wanted grandkids. Your brother was married but him and his wife struggled with fertility. The final straw was trying to get you into an arranged marriage with one of your father’s business buddies kid. You had only just turned 30.

It had freaked you out how your parents made it seem like you didn’t have a choice. So you packed your bags, your mother pleaded for you to not go. You broke the lease to your apartment and left without telling them where.

You like the simple life you were leading now. Helping your Aunt's business. You lived with her because she was a widow with no kids and wanted the company. You had some interesting neighbors across the street. You had just driven into the driveway taking notice of a man fixing his truck. It was hot outside and his arms were covered in grease.

You walked into the kitchen where your Aunt was doing dishes. You decided to help making idle talk about how the shop was until you looked out the window to still see the sleeveless man. Your Aunt caught you looking, "Thought you came here to get away from boys?" You smile shyly at being caught, looking back down and handing her a wet plate to be dried. "Never said that... Just the one my parents choose. Didn't have time to look for a date when men were thrown at me randomly by them." Your Aunt was amused to say the least. "That's Daryl Dixon, him and his brother live there. You have to watch yourself with a Dixon. But Daryl has helped me with a few things that broke around the house. He replaced the battery's in the fire alarms for me a week before you came."

You gave her a sideways look, "You trying to set me up now to?" Mary laughs, "Fine fine, granted I do bake something for him every time he does something for me. Could just have a sweet tooth." You look back out the window, ‘Daryl huh?’

It was a week later that you got a call from your brother. You went on a walk to take the call. He was anger that your father was on him for a kid because you had disappeared. The pressure had turned to his wife who was already having a hard time with infertility. It was when you were walking back to the house did the conversation get heated.

"Grow a back bone and yell at them Mathew! Why are you coming at me for!?" He responded with his own venom, "Why couldn't you just do what they asked! But go ahead die alone for all I care!" He ended the call abruptly after. You clenched your teeth tight and closed your eyes trying to compose yourself. A voice called from across the street, "Ya doin alright over there?" You turned to see Daryl beer in hand with the hood of his car open. You sighed shoulders sagging, "Sorry for the yelling." Daryl pick up another beer showing it off to you, "Sounds like ya could use one of these." You put your hands to your hips before deciding to walk over. You grab the beer he handed you with a smile, "Thanks..."

You cracked the can open taking a sip. Daryl stare at you for a second before saying something, “Yer boyfriend causing you trouble?” You chuckled at the thought, making a small face of disgust at it even, “No, that was just my brother being an ass.” Daryl took mental note of that ‘single’. He huffed and looked back down into his trucks hood. “Oh trust me I know how that is.” You look at him as he refocused his attention to his car, ‘That’s right, that’s what your Aunt had said.’ You lean against the truck. “Your Daryl right? I’m Y/N” Daryl looked back up at the mention of you knowing his name, “Oh so ya heard bout us.” He sounded a bit disappointed at the thought. You lean to look inside the car, smiling over to him, “Only the things my Aunt said.” He perked a brow at that, “Who’s yer Aunt? What she say about us?”

“Mary.” You pointed over your shoulder to the house, “And she mentioned you might have a sweet tooth.” Daryl looked over to the house of the lady he often did things for, her niece chiming in again. “Always see you fixing this truck across the street.” He pulled a red rag from his back pocket wiping his hands, “Ya damn thing always seems to be breakin.” He took notice of the girl fully now. You took slow sips of the beer he gave you while starring into the hood. “Well if I have any trouble with my car I know who to ask.” You looked up to him with a shy smile. “I’m useless when it comes to knowing anything about cars.”

That’s how they both started talking. You watching him fix a couple spark plugs while talking about things. Getting to know each other a little. Like how you were helping Mary with her shop. “Ah, so you just moved here.” You nodded, “Mmm about a month. Have no clue where anything is and have no friends so…” you shrug. A breeze started as evening was setting in. Daryl hesitated before saying, “I could show you some local spots.” He bit the side of his thumb nail waiting for an answer. You had bit your bottom lip looking up at him and smiled, “Sounds like fun to me.”

He was worried for a second he messed up, “There’s a bar that everyone knows, real popular on Fridays.” You nodded while looking at him staring down at your watch seeing you had been talking for about a hour. It was getting late so you slowly started to walk backwards to your house. You smile with a glint in your eye, “Sounds like a Date… see you Friday!” You waved and all he could do was look on with wide eyes. Did you just- “Pick you up at 8!” He yelled. He was in slight disbelief at the out come. Had you been flirting with him the whole time?

You had handed him a tool before he could even ask. You had known how to do it all along and played stupid to talk with him. He smiled down as he closed his hood. ‘Oh you were trouble.’

When Friday came he was kicking himself. This was unlike him to go on dates. But he wouldn’t deny he liked you. You were also looking forward to a date for the first time in a while. Preferring it more than being tricked on to one with some guy your parents liked. Daryl probably didn’t fit that kind a guy they would. Oh but your kind definitely. Your Aunt watched you try on an outfit before deciding to go with a floral casual dress that went to your knees. She gave you a smug look and you only rolled your eyes. You had a long black jacket over you, knowing it was already cool outside.

Daryl knocked on the door and off you went in his truck to this bar. He was slightly nervous when he saw you dolled yourself up, and for him? He had lied to Merle where he was going and doing. He was desperately trying not to blow this, “Ya look pretty…” he had said it at a stop light looking over to you. It’s everything a girl wants to hear, and it sure made you smile.

When they got to the bar the bartender seemed confused to see Daryl with a girl. He was normally there with his brother. Mostly to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid he had noticed. “Well if it isn’t a Dixon, tell your brother he still owes me for the glass he broke.” Daryl cringed at the mention of his brother. You just simply took a seat on a stool. “What can I get you two.”

You had a few drinks you’ll admit. You tried a classic drink that the locals had. You were grossed out at the drink causing you and Daryl to laugh. He only had a drink with the need to drive you both home. You had tried to play pool but decided you were a little to inebriated at how many times you missed the ball entirely. You were standing in a corner of the bustling bar talking. You held a bow empty cup dying laughing at a story had told you about his childhood. Sometimes kids dumb actions, like jumping off a shed in a hero outfit, were just funny. You had lost a little balance at your laughing and place a hand onto Daryl’s chest. He only looked down to you putting a hand to your waist to steady you. You had tears of laughter in you eye, you fanning your face to no ruining your make up. He was definitely enjoying this more than he wanted to.

You had been at the bar for about 4 hours with Daryl. You now walked leaning into him in the parking lot. He had an arm around your shoulder leading you to the car door. He started the car and looked over to you, “Should have told me ya were a lightweight.” You gasped offendly, “Lightweight! I’ll have you know I’m just tipsy.” He looked at you questioningly humming. You relaxed into the car seat, “Ok, I’ll admit I haven’t done this in a while- might be a little rusty on the drinking game.”

You both continued to joke around until getting to the neighborhood. He back up in your drive way to later drive into his own. Him doing that thing with his arm as he back up. You bit your lip at the sight. When he parked and looked at you you spoke, “Thank you for this Daryl, I had fun.” He nodded, “Was my pleasure…” you had slowly moved closer crossing the middle seat. He looked down at your flushed face, mostly done by the alcohol. That liquid courage probably giving you the strength to grab him by the chin and slowly kiss him. He leaned into it grabbing your hip. You pulled back with a bashful smile,

“Same time next week?”

He had fully smiled at that, “Ya bet your sweet ass. Now get out of here miss ‘tipsy’.” You giggle wiggling your way out of the car. Waving goodbye with a stupid smile on your face. He felt his heart skip a beat, ‘oh he was real screwed…’

That night he even thought back to how you were looking at him on the way back. He had caught you leaned against the window with hooded eye. When he looked at you, you tried to fight a smile. Oh and how could he not think of the kiss. His hands dragged down his face at the thought.

This went on for a little over a month. You would see each other throughout the week but Fridays you would go out. Small touch’s and kisses here and there. It wasn’t until you ended up back at that bar that things changed. You were only 2 drinks in. You sat in a booth with Daryl. Head on his shoulder and hands intertwined under the table. You pulled away getting up, “I’m going to get another drink and you a beer. Then I’ll wipe your ass in a game of pool!” Daryl chuckled, “Let’s hope you can hit the ball with your cue this time.” You stuck out your tongue at him while walking to the bar. You had only been waiting for your drinks when a man slide up next to you.

“Whats a pretty thing like you doing with a Dixon? He blackmailing you?” The man held a sleazy smirk. You only look at him with disgust ignoring him. It was when he put his hand to your arm pulling you closer did you talk to him, “Hey back off!” The man’s grip tightened, “What you a hooker or something? Only way a Dixon could get some pipe is by paying for a slut.” You had yanked your arm from him, you falling back a little before landing against someone behind you. A arm rapping around you, you recognized it instantly, Daryl. His voice growling and rumbling against you, “Back off my girl.”

The man who was bothering you only rolled his eyes, “Maybe keep your slut on a leash-“ You had felt Daryl lean forward behind you before you even saw him sock the guy in the face. You had gasped and turned to push Daryl back from the guy. He stumbled and held his nose. You whispered to Daryl, “Ok it’s time to go…” You tried to push him closer to the door but the jackass decided to spit out another comment, “Ya let your bitch drag you away pussy!” You felt Daryl lean forward and resisted you leading him backwards but you spoke softly up to him, “Please…” His eyes briefly met yours. He looked back up to the guy who was probably drunk but, Daryl’s blood was boiling with rage. He relented at your plea and walked out the exit.

He was quiet as he walked back to the truck. Walking a little faster ahead of you. When he got into the drivers seat you had said his name but he wasn’t listening. He put the key in the ignition, turning it on but your hand rested onto his arm and you said his name again, “Daryl…”. He slumped a little and turned the car back off. He slowly turned to look at you. You scooted closer into him. You closed your hands around his face so he would look at you. You gave a small smile, “Thank you.” You gave him a quick peck before leaning back to look at him.

He signed and placed his forehead to yours talking a moment. He thought maybe he was gonna scary you off at the out burst. He whispered, “Hope I didn’t scare ya.” You chuckled shaking your head, “They opposite really. I was scared of that guy and then you came and I felt ok again.” He inhaled a breath before I closing his arms around you. He pulled you into him more and you rapped an arm around his back. You sat there for a moment before you spoke, “Soooo, Your girl huh?”

Daryl froze in place. Didn’t even register he said it in the moment. He pulled back from you, mouth agape, stuttering before he gave up at trying to say anything. You placed a hand into his hair playing with a strand of hair, “I’m your girl?” You had almost whispered it. Daryl cleared his throat, “Will you be?” You let out a breathy sigh,

“Yeah, thought you’d never ask.”

That is when you officially started dating. Sat in the truck, in the parking lot, making out for a good 10 minutes.

You were enjoying the new found established relationship. Over the next week was filled with your Aunt seeing you cuddle on the couch watching a movie. You had even managed to give him a small haircut in his bathroom, “Hmm, I think you would look good with long hair.” Sometime you would find yourself in Daryl’s room laying on his bed just talking when Merle was away.

Speaking of Merle he had later found out when at the bar that his baby brother started a fight over his girlfriend. He had thought nothing of it until he asked his brother if it was true. When it was confirmed he laid hurtful comments at him. ‘No one can love someone like us!’ ‘Like you really?’ It was a definite damage to his ego. But some of the things he said about you rubbed him the wrong way. It made him defensive, ‘She a good lay?’ ‘got you pussy whipped.’ They had yet to even cross that line.

You know understood why Daryl had not wanted you to met his brother at first. He made rude and sexually comments to you. Often either being sexist or racist any time near him. You mostly tried to say clear of him.

Then there came the drama that followed from your parents. Apparently your Aunt let it slip to your brother you were with her. He told your parents and now here you were getting a call from her shop. You picked up the business phone and before you could even spit out your prepared greeting you heard your father’s voice boom over the phone. “Now you listen to me little lady you’re coming back home!” You pause shocked. “Your little tantrum is done and you will do as you’re told!” You could hear your mother in the back telling him to calm down. You to in a breath and replied calmly, “Dad, I will do no such thing.”

He was yelling more. You had caught something about a wedding date and some name before your mother took the phone from him. “Honey, you need to come back home ok?” You really couldn’t understand why, “No Mama I like it here.” She went to go on, “We are just doing what we think is best for you. We just want you to be happy with a husband.” You had enough snapping at them for the first time, “You want what’s best for you. If you wanted me happy you would have listened to me! I’ll have you know with the time I’ve been gone I finally feel free. I even got a boyfriend!”

Your mother gasped, “In the town you’re in! What redneck white trash could you possibly find out there!” You were surprised at the way your mother spoke. But you were also mad at it. You angrily replied, “His name is Daryl Dixon! Fuck you! Never call me again!” You hung up seething. You had closed the shop a little early.

After the call from your parents you walked to the bar. The bartender seemed surprised seeing you without Daryl before asking, “Your usual?” You nodded with an appreciative smile. While waiting for the drink you noticed Daryl’s brother with a few other people. You ignored him deciding you would have the one drink and go home, not really in the mood to deal with Merle.

You had just finished your drink when you heard a commotion behind you. Merle and another were arguing. It was getting really heated. You had stood about ready to leave when the other guy threatened Merle, “I’ll kill you for this!” When you had turned Merle was smug looking and unaware of the knife being pulled from behind the man’s pants. You had yelled, “Merle!” In a panic you lobbed your glass at the man. It shattered over his head sending him to crumple to the side on a table. The knife slipping from his hand and landing in front of him. Merle looked down at the knife before looking up to where the glass came from, spotting you. You were shocked with your mouth open looking at the man holding his head in pain, before looking back to Merle. The few other men that were sitting with them getting up displeased.

Merle realizing he was out numbered started to run toward you. He had grabbed you by the arm and dragged you with him to the exit. The bartender yelled as you got dragged away. “Hey!” You had yelled back before the door closed, “Sorry Lawrence I’ll pay you back later!” Merle was still dragging you along to his motorcycle. The door had swung open and the angry men started to pursue you both. Merle had yelled at you when you pause to look at the door, “Get the fuck on!”

You had hopped over the seat and sat behind him. Not having a moment to hold on before he started to speed off. It wasn’t until he pulled into his driveway that you started telling him off.

Daryl had heard Merle’s motorcycle pull in but he wasn’t expecting to hear you yelling right after it. “Goddamn I’m already having a shit day!” When he walked out the front door to see you telling Merle off as he just sat there on his bike silently taking it. He had never seen his brother not throwing words back at someone. “Are you an idiot!” Not even that got a reaction from him. Daryl knew that would normally get replied by violence. It wasn’t until he spoke did you turn at his voice, “The hell is goin on?” Your anger soon crumpled into tears, you were overwhelmed and maybe a bit scared still body pumping with adrenaline. Daryl almost got whiplash at the sudden mood shift.

That didn’t stop him from hugging you as you started to cry. He shot a look to his brother who still sat on his bike. Merle looking weirded out at the sudden tears. "The hell you do ta her?!” Merle rubbed the back of his neck, "May have got into a bit of a fight at the bar with some folks. She kinda stopped me from being stabbed." He had felt you shaking in his grasp now. He knew you hated conflict, told him about the pit that would form in your stomach. But you stopping Merle from being stabbed? "How she do that?" Merle chuckled, "Threw her glass across the room! Knocked him clean on his sorry ass." He seemed almost impressed by you.

Daryl started leading you back toward your home. Daryl turning to yell back to his brother, "Whatever man piss off." He had gotten you into your house before you spoke, "My Aunt went on her Cabo trip with her book club friends. She'll be gone a week... stay?" He gulped, "If ya really want me to." You nodded, "I don't wanna be alone." He saw you were scared.

He lay next to you in your bed after you calmed down and ate dinner. "Want to talk bout it?" You moved closer to him leading him to put a arm over you. You sighed into him, "I was at the bar because I had a rough conversation with my parents. Somethings were said. Their the reason I moved here, to get away from. I saw Merle and then the knife- then all those men chased us." Your hand rose to pinch the bridge of your nose, "Just been a- a shit day." You move to look up to Daryl's blue eyes a smirk rising to your lips at the worried and tight look he was giving you. He relax a little at your attention. He dragged a hand up your arm to your face, "Merle seems to think your a badass now." He himself was a little proud to hear what you did. You grunted into his chest, "He'd better. Saved his dumbass."

You were talking for a while after that. Seeing the clock blinking 1am now. You were sleepy but enjoyed talking to him to much to fall asleep. Sleep was pulling at your eyes and a question that should have been a inside thought slipped out, "Why haven't we had sex yet?" Daryl was a little taken back but not to shocked at the question, he hummed, "Honestly not a clue, I like you to much to mess anything up." Maybe the tired feeling was making his lips a little loose to. He paused before continued, "I've only had meaningless sex. Nothing with feeling behind it." He smirked down to your hazy eyes, "Why? You tryin to get in my pants?" You chuckled adding a little shrug, "Perhaps. Take me out to dinner and we'll see how the night goes from there." That made Daryl's heart beat a little harder. Of course he has thought about it before just didn't know how to act on it with you. He held you a little tighter to him, goofy smile to his face, "Yes Ma'am."

Take you out to dinner he did. Nothing to fancy but by the end of that night you offered him to follow you inside. You were laughing while bumping backwards into things as you both kissed. You stripping buttons down his shirt when he paused face looking uncomfortable. You stopped at the look. He sighed squeezing his eyes tight. Reminding himself it was you. "Uh sorry, just forgot to mention- just look fer yourself..." You softly pulled the shirt down off of him. Revealing scars along his body.

You dragged a finger along one. You look up at him with round eyes. He looked away before saying, “M’ Daddy was a drunk.” You intake air and release it at the information. You leaned down and kissed the scar you touched. Everything turned slow from that point, more sensual. He rolled into you at a pace he never had before. He was used to chasing a feeling, getting it over with. But every time he would push into you he couldn’t help but love the groans you made. You sure loved the noises subconsciously coming out of him as well. You would move up into him. The slow motion had sent you crazy. Leading you to claw at him begging for more. He didn’t go faster but harder.

Your moans filled your bedroom. Daryl was sucking on your neck while rutting into you. He was huffing out air and grunting in exertion. The tight clench he felt around him damn near knocked the wind out of him. He had pulled out and rested his head on your chest while trying to catch his breath. You dug your hands into the back of his hair.

That night lead to many more like it. Which is what lead you to the current situation going on. You were in the bathroom staring at a positive pregnancy test. Not just one but three. You sat on the floor contemplating, 'How did this happen?' 'Do I keep it?' 'How do I tell Daryl?' You and Daryl had been only officially dating for 3 and a half months now. The first test had you in denial, the second had you begging. The third had you close to acceptance. At least you weren't ugly crying anymore. Before anything you needed to tell Daryl. So you called him over saying it was urgent.

He opened the front door and jogged to your room seeing you crisscross on the bed looking distraught. He kneeled down at the front of your bed looking up at you. You took in a nervous breath before talking, "If you need a moment after I tell you this, its okay, I wont be mad." Daryl's heart dropped to his ass, 'were you about to end stuff between them?'

"I'm pregnant."

His eyes slowly widened and he looked down to your stomach then back to you. He abruptly stood up then paused again. His mind moving a mile a minute but also not at all. The one thing to click was "A father? ME?' He slowly walked out the room. You sat there with tears burning in your eyes watching him leave the room. He paced back and forth hand running into his hair. The fight or flight in him was telling him to run, he was overwhelmed. Then he heard a small sniffle come from the room he had just come from. That stopped him in his tracks. He thinks he loves you. You both hadn't gotten to saying it out loud to each other. He didn't know what love felt like but this was what he imagined it to be. He hated to see you cry. Made him feel like maybe he would to if he didn't fix your tears. When he heard you he slowly made his way back into the room. Realizing you were most likely as terrifies as him, more so even.

You felt his arms around you making you cry harder. You had run the possibility of him leaving in your mind. Fully aware of his lack of a good father in his life. When you pulled away to look at him he also had tears going down his face. It was the first you have seen him cry. You had now put your arms around his middle and pulled him down to now lay on top of you. You had a tight hold on him and he you. You both calmed down and you knew he wasn't leaving, then he also whispered into you, "I've got ya. Both of ya."

It was rough that first day. It didn't feel real. You told Daryl how you were going to make a appointment in the morning. You asked if he was wanting to go with. He had slowly nodded deep in thought. You had said they could talk about everything in time.

You both had time.

You had an appointment in a week, the receptionist suggesting you go and buy prenatal vitamins before then. You also broke the news to your Aunt, she was supportive. Saying she would love to help with anything you needed. You and her walked a few blocks to a small store connected to a pharmacy. You looked to the shelves of pills. You held two big bottles, different brands, of prenatal vitamins. The sound of screaming alerting you to a disturbance in the store. You turn to your Aunt with a questioning look. You both peaked around the aisle spotting someone on top of the other, a fight perhaps?

Gun shots to your left making you jump. You turned seeing a man backing down the aisle beside you shooting rounds into a woman approaching him. You witnessed the women not even flinch to each shot. Your Aunt pulled you by the shoulder backwards down the lane. Another person who was pale with foggy eyes rounded the corner. It grabbed your Aunt and before you could blink took a bit out of her neck. You watch in horror as she dropped to the ground with that person on top of her. Blood from her throat being ripped out had splattered across your face. You screamed terrified. The lady the man had been shooting at now turned the corner from the aisle they were in. Now she was covered in blood though. You look down to your Aunt who had stopped moving. The thing taking notice of you. So you ran.

You had just seen your Aunt being brutally murdered. You ran out the door of the building pill bottle still in hand. You saw people running, cars crashing. Others getting hit by cars. It was a nightmare but you felt like you need to keep moving. You ran down the road back to your house. Dodging anyone covered in blood.

Daryl had kicked the door open to your house. Merle was packing stuff into the truck across the road. He screamed your name looking for you anywhere. When he couldn’t find you he ran back to the car, “I can’t find her!” Merle rolled his eyes, “Forget about her! She probably died someone where let’s get are asses out of here!” Daryl yelled back at him with rage. “THE IS NO WAY IN HELL IM GOING ANYWHERE WITHOUT HER!” The yell had shocked Merle. Daryl had never talk to him like that. “We can find you a new lady we gotta go!” Then Daryl did something more unexpected. He shoved Merle back. He had hit the side door of the truck, Merle was about to hit him when he yelled, “She’s pregnant man!”

Daryl had a panicked and pained expression on his face. He started to stuttered out, “I-I gotta go look—“ The sound of his name being yelled from a distance made him turn in the direction. He was relieved to see you running full speed toward him. His relief flooded by panic at the sight of blood painted across your face and cloths. He ran the rest of the way to you. Crashing into each other in an embrace. You struggled to regain breath after how long you were running. Daryl had held your face seeing were the blood came from. Tears forming in your eyes, “It’s not mine…” Merle’s voice cutting in, “Come on love birds we gotta go now!”

Daryl lead you to the car opening the door and making you jump in, “Stay here I’m going to get some of your stuff.” He ran off back to your house and Merle started tightening the cables to the bike in the back. He sat down in the driver seat and looked over to you. You had two pill bottles on your lap and you stared at your hands shaking. He then noticed all the blood on you and decided to keep his mouth shut. Daryl ran back throwing a duffel bag in the back before going to the passenger side. You sat in the middle still a little stunned. Like a bird who flew into glass.

Daryl’s arm went behind your head resting on your shoulders. You leaned into him. Merle had started to peel out of the space driving off into a direction. You heard little of the talk between them. Choosing a quarry they know to get away from the towns and head into the woods.

All you knew was the world was changing.

Part 2

Feedback welcomed and requests open!

Sorry for mistakes I to eepy its 2 am. I'm dyslexic and struggle with it and normally reread 10 times to fix mistakes but this is so long I wanna go to bed.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #daryl imagines #daryl x female reader #daryl fanfiction #twd daryl #norman reedus #angst #fluff #smut

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nonstoplover · 9 months ago

Text

all of my heart ~ carlos sainz (cs55)

my masterlist | my f1 masterlist

pairing: carlos sainz jr. x fem!reader

summary: a short story of carlos becoming a father

words: 2K

warnings: one tiny swear word in spanish ig, otherwise nothing, just fluff fluff fluff and dad!carlos which deserves its own warning tbh

a/n: i know you love the dad!driver trope, @vetteltea, which is why i dedicate this blurb to you (though i think you'd maybe prefer this to be with seb now that i think about it), as a thank you for all the amazing fanfic you provide this fandom with. i love you so much, you're so talented, so inspiring, and i truly wish to be like you. <33

please, don't be a ghost reader, leave a comment or rb!

Carlos is still a little out of breath when he hears it for the first time.

A delayed red-eye flight and an excruciating traffic jam caused him to almost miss this appointment. The first he finally has the chance to attend – having had a race when the initial one happened –, and he almost missed it.

As a drop of sweat rolls down the side of his face, obvious sign of how only seconds ago he was still running up the stairs of the hospital, a smile forms on his lips. Looking at her, lying down, the screen beside the bed showing a picture of their baby.

Well, at least they say it's that. For the love of God, Carlos can't see anything on it. He still nods along with a wide smile when the nurse asks him if he sees it. The focus shouldn't be on him and whether he can see it or not, but on his girlfriend.

God, this woman. He hasn't seen her in over a month now. And this is how they meet again: when they meet the little one officially as well, though on a screen only. Hell, the last time he saw her, they had no clue of this wonderful piece of news. From watching her wave with a smile through the glass at the airport, before he turned a corner towards his flight and disappeared, fast forward to now, when he catches sight of her lying form, just as gorgeous as ever, if not more, with a baby growing inside her. A creation by him and her.

They're gonna have a child, Carlos thinks, and as if it's the first time he realises this, his heart stops for a second. In happiness, in awe, in fear.

Because as the image on the screen gets displayed, and Carlos gets lost in-between words like embryo and transvaginal scan, suddenly the doctor announces that the baby indeed has a heartbeat, listen, you can hear it. And this one sentence, followed by the almost inaudible little thuds, is enough to make everything feel real.

Of course, he already knew what the positive pregnancy test meant, the one she showed him first on a FaceTime call, then sent as a separate picture later. But this, hearing that tiny heartbeat, it made everything even more real. They had actual proof now of what is going to happen in the near future. It might not have been planned, but it doesn't make it any less sweeter.

With his heart beating away in a rapid rhythm, he feels his facial muscles pull as his lips curve into a smile, so wide that it even showcases his pearly white teeth.

When he sees her the next time, the first thing Carlos does is place his palm against her tummy. The bump is already visible – well not in the hoodie she's currently wearing, but it's there underneath, he knows –, and he's been dreaming about holding it for many, many days now.

She lets out a giggle, throwing her head back a little, having expected a kiss upon her arrival, not this. Carlos practically doesn't pay her any attention, his sole focus is on talking with his baby.

Later on in the car she inquires jokingly the reason behind why she's not the first to be greeted by him, and he explains with a serious tone why that's the priority. "You get all this time to speak to her and bond with her, and she's already inside you which is a bonus, but she has to know exactly who her father is."

"She, huh?" she raises a teasing eyebrow, and he simply smiles, shrugging in a nonchalant way.

"I can feel it in my bones."

He looks so self-assured that she can't help but lean in and press her lips against his cheek. She still can't believe she'll get to have a kid with this man.

Doubt starts rising in his mind when they reach the third trimester. The date underlined in bright red in his calendar creeping closer and closer, making him more self-conscious and unsure than he's ever felt.

What if he won't be a good father? What if his job gets in the way of his child really feeling close to him? What is he supposed to do anyway? He already has no idea what he's doing in this whole pregnancy, safe to say, how is it going to be when he finally gets to hold the baby as well?

He's read multiple long articles, spending every flight he's had to take nose deep in his phone, until his eyes hurt and words started to lose their meaning. He wants to be the best father he can be.

This even includes several calls to his parents, asking for advice from them as well, trusting and valuing their words far more than the ones he can find online. He knows that his parents proved already that their methods work, they've been good parents to him and his siblings.

Still, the only thing that seems to reassure him is that they – the baby and him – have her. His superwoman of a girlfriend, who simply seems like she was actually born to do this, to be a mother, taking every obstacle in their way with a cheerful step and a smile reaching from ear to ear on her face.

How did he deserve her?

As he's gritting his teeth to stop himself from letting out a groan while the pain he's feeling in his hand spreads – mierda, this woman is strong – he repeats one sentence as a mantra. Only to keep him from worrying his heart out for the love of his life, who's currently letting out loud gasps and occasional curses, her eyes teary and her cheeks red from the strain of pushing and pushing and pushing.

I hope the baby looks like her.

Why is this so important to him? He has no idea. He doesn't even know why the thought popped into his mind in the first place. He just knows he has to keep on repeating it to divert his mind, otherwise he'll lose his sanity.

Simply, he has to focus on picturing a baby with her eyes, her hair colour, the elegant line of her nose, the curve of her lips, her rosy cheeks. Every inch of their baby looking like a mini-her. Because what would be better than looking at his girlfriend and marvel at her beauty? Of course, looking at her and his daughter, and seeing the exact same beauty? Sure, it would be nice to have a tiny detail of him in their baby girl somewhere, just so that it would be obvious to the whole wide world that this is his baby, that the woman giving birth to her now is his woman. Maybe the exact copy of his eye colour? Or his locks of hair, silky and thick? It doesn't matter. Honestly, who cares about how she looks, he will love her no matter what. With his whole heart, with more love, a deeper connection than he's ever felt before.

Minutes pass, then some more, until it feels like an eternity has gone by since they arrived to the hospital. But then he hears it – crying. The unmistakable baby sound, entering the haze of his mind like a sharp knife, bringing him back to reality in a millisecond.

Everything seems to quicken up, and the next thing he knows is that the bundle of his child is placed in his arms, and after that initial wave of slightly terrified chills running through his body, immediately a mixture of relief, joy and tranquility spreads in his veins. He has no idea why he was so scared this whole time. This is... subconscious. Instinctive. Meant to be.

In that very moment he wordlessly promises the baby to always be there for her, always looking out for her, always caring and loving her with all of his heart. He won't let any harm ever reach her.

"Congratulations, Mr. Sainz, on the birth of your son," the doctor approaches him, and that last word bursts the bubble Carlos has been surrounded with.

Son?

His eyes widen, lips fall slightly open in shock – right until he hears the exhausted sounding but unmistakable giggle coming from the bed. "I told you," she grins.

"A boy," he mumbles dreamily, glancing at his girlfriend, lips curving into a smile matching hers.

"Good thing I came prepared with boy names as well," she continues, slight pants leaving her lungs still.

The memory when she practically wanted to force him into choosing a male name as well, just in case – because he was so sure about their baby being a girl that he didn't even want to spend a moment thinking about names for the other sex –, pops into his mind, and he shakes his head. He was wrong.

Tiny feet patter on the floor, growing louder and louder, before a second later they suddenly cease and get replaced by a high-pitched giggle.

She glances up just as Carlos appears in the doorway to the kitchen, their son hanging from his arms, his little cheeks red from all the laughter. Her heart swells at the sight and sounds, her eyes shine bright, connecting with his easily – the love of her life.

Miracle. That's what the little boy is in their lives.

Watching Carlos be a father has been the best thing she's ever had the chance to witness. The way he plays with him, practically going back to being a child, his sole focus being on entertaining his son.

The Sainz household they established not too long ago is filled with laughter every day, the walls reverberating with the joyous sounds until they fill their hearts.

"When's dinner ready, mi amor?" Carlos leans in, pressing a loving kiss on her temple.

She cheerfully smiles, her fingers moving to caress the impossibly soft, dark brown hair on the little boy's head. "A few minutes," she replies, catching her fiancé's eyes once more. "If you two help me set the table, we can eat sooner."

Her son nods eagerly, as much as his three-year-old energy allows, and waves his tiny arms to wordlessly tell his father to put him down on the ground. Carlos obeys, then opens the cupboard to find the appropriate plates – all plastic, reserved for the times when it's only the three of them eating, to allow the young one to help them without the worry of him breaking anything.

She watches from the corner of her eyes as her two boys move towards the dining table, where Carlos lifts their son to stand on a chair, this way allowing him to reach the tabletop. His hands never leave the boy's waist, just in case, and when he's finished setting the plates, helps him back on the ground.

"Good job, chiquito," Carlos holds his palm out at the proper height.

"Gracias, papá," the little one slaps into his father's hand eagerly, making his mother smile so wide it's close to actually hurt the muscles in her cheeks.

They walk back to the kitchen counter with proud looks on their faces, and she places the bowl of salad in Carlos' hands. "It's too heavy for you, pumpkin," she explains when her son opens his mouth to complain.

"Te adoro," Carlos steals a melting kiss from her lips as his fingers get a hold of the bowl, before leaning back and fully taking it from her. I adore you.

With her heart fluttering with nothing but pure happiness and blood rushing to her face, she enjoys the way that bashful smile forms on her lips that only he can achieve. Her gaze follows his movements, the way the T-shirt clings to his arms, to his back muscles, and how the soft material ripples with every move he makes. He is breathtaking. He truly is, because unawares, she lets out a soft gasp watching him and has to endure the knowing glance and that smirk he casts her way above his shoulder. He knows her too well.

She shakes her head, attention going back to her son still standing by her feet, patiently waiting for his next task. A perfect mini-him, way more than she could've ever asked for.

A perfect child, a perfect man to call the love of her life, a perfect life. And it's all hers.

a/n: i'm back baby!! i've been gone for the longest time ever (since last summer) but i'm in my final year of uni and i had to write my thesis too so hopefully that's a good enough excuse. writer's block ain't fun still. it really just feels nice to post something again.

my masterlist | my f1 masterlist

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sophsicle · 5 months ago

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I'm Sorry I'm the One You Love

Part I (Part II)

Sirius Black isn't in love with James Potter. Though sometimes Remus looks at him like he is. Like Sirius is sad and pathetic and...he doesn't even know, pining?

But he isn't.

Well.

Alright.

Sad and pathetic, perhaps. Depending on who you ask. On when you're looking. But he isn't pining. And he isn't in love with James.

That would be too easy.

Sirius thinks he could bear just being in love with him. Thinks that's a pill he could swallow. Unrequited feelings and all that. He'd mope around and write sad songs and drink too much. But eventually he'd get past it the way people seem to do with those kinds of feelings. But he isn't in love with James, is the problem.

He's fucking consumed by him.

"Sirius."

"Don't start."

Remus huffs, but, mercifully, goes back to his coursework, shaking his head while he does. Sirius, on the other hand, keeps staring at James and Lily. They aren't doing anything really, Sirius doesn't reckon Evans is one for big, public displays of affection. But then, maybe that'd be better. James and him don't - they've never - done that. Kiss or anything. So. It probably wouldn't feel so much like a kick in the fucking teeth the way watching them now does. Leaning into one another, heads nearly pressed together, whispers traded back and forth, secret smiles, nudging feet. James and Sirius have done that plenty.

Remus sighs again. "Why don't you talk to him?"

After a few seconds Sirius manages to pull his eyes away from the grotesque spectacle on the other side of the library. Why the hell are they sitting there anyway? Surely they could have sat at the same bloody table?

"I talk to him every day," Sirius says blankly. Which earns him a deeply unimpressed look.

"You know what I mean."

"I don't."

"You do."

"Don't."

He gets an eye roll this time. "Fine," muttering as he picks up his quill. "Have it your way then."

Remus has freckles splashed across his nose and cheeks, and just about the longest eyelashes Sirius has ever seen. He's obsessed with them, to tell you the truth. He's asked Remus if he uses some kind of potion for them but the other boy only scrunched his nose up, giving Sirius a look he didn't understand.

Remus's eyes flick up again now, meeting Sirius's, finding him staring. Sirius doesn't look away. He isn't embarrassed. Not about this. Not about most things, honestly.

"What?" Remus ask warily.

Sirius only shrugs. "Astronomy Tower? Tonight?"

Remus holds his gaze for a long moment before dropping his head again. "Fine." He doesn't sound overly enthusiastic but then, he never does with Sirius.

Sirius has never kissed James. Not even once. Though he's thought about it a few times. Sometimes he wants to ask James if he's thought about it too. Just so he knows. He's never kissed James.

But he has kissed Remus.

Loads.

He thinks he might be an expert at this point.

It takes the edge off. Makes him feel less like he's going insane every time he sees James. Like he wants to eat him and not in a sexual way, not really, more like in the way wolves want to sink their teeth into the necks of rabbits. Want to snap their spines. Want to feel them go limp. Want to swallow them whole so that there's no difference anymore. Between them. Between us. I've made you part of me. Bone of my bones. Blood of my blood. Skin of my skin.

See. It's not love. Sirius doesn't know what it is but it's not that.

After a few more seconds he kicks Remus under the table, causing the other boy to look up in exasperation. But this time when their eyes meet Sirius smiles the way he knows Remus likes. Feeling his insides grow warm when Remus smiles back - even if he's a little delicate about it.

Sirius isn't in love with James Potter.

But he might be in love with Remus.

#prongsfoot #wolfstar #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #james x sirius #remus x sirius #soph rambles

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covetyou · 1 year ago

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when we begin again

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: dub-con (reader was paying a debt, less so now), oral (f receiving), fingering, masturbation, thigh slaps (three small ones), small description of a hand injury, cumplay/cumshot/cum marking, praise kink, maybe Joel has a bit of a pain kink idk, possessive slutty Joel, derogatory names ("whore"), drug reference, unspecified age gap word count: 4.1k summary: He wasn't one to lick his wounds, but after a deal gone wrong Joel finds something he'd much rather put his mouth on.

A/N: and here we be, the first of the SWAT oneshots that serves as a sort of bridge between the main series and the few ideas I have brewing and ready to go. This is a whole re-write in less than 24 hours because the original fic I was almost finished with felt too me and not enough SWAT. no one needs sad girl monologuing about life and death and grief with their porn. you're welcome.

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"Hrrrmph!"

Joel's lips crash into yours the moment you step inside. One moment he's running an anxious hand through his graying hair, and the next he's making quick work of the space between you, striding across the floor to grab you and plant his lips firmly on yours.

It's not what you'd come here for, funnily enough. You wanted to talk and, glorious as it was to have your lips against his, you couldn't talk like this.

Wretching yourself away is stupid. After everything you know it's stupid, yet you do it anyway.

"Joel -"

Cupping your head in his hands his lips find yours again before you can get another word out, teeth knocking together as he licks into your mouth, and you briefly lose yourself, turning to putty in his arms, ready to sculpt into whatever he sees fit that day. Before the bonelessness takes hold completely, you pull back once more.

Searching his face you look for the sudden need, the sudden rush, the desire to kiss you and have your face in his hands that hadn't been there any other time until now. You see nothing, his dark eyes refusing to meet yours as his hands find themselves at the front of your pants, deftly unbuttoning them before you can even question him. Before he can unzip them, your hands find his, holding him gently in place.

Joel freezes, hands stilling on your zipper, and he pulls a small, sharp breath of air in through his nose as if you hurt him, wounded him by daring to slow him down.

"You want me to stop?" he growls.

"No, I just -"

"Then quit your complainin'."

You do. Briefly. Until the zip snags as he pulls on it again and he curses in frustration.

"Let me do it." Until last time, which wasn't really like any other time, he'd always asked you to strip yourself, made you strip in front of him before he touched out. His clumsy hands on your clothes felt alien, and as it was he was being too slow, even in his desperation.

"You not want me to touch you or somethin'?" he snaps, frowning down at your pants now as he fiddles with the zipper, trying to get it to budge.

"I never said that."

"Then quit your fuckin' complainin'."

And this time you really do when you finally see the tremble in his hands and the blood on his knuckles, and it occurs to you that maybe you did hurt him, that grabbing his hand to stop his frantic movement caused him pain.

Joel hadn't been in a rush before you got here. He'd been the opposite, pacing the floor, willing himself to slow down, calm down. And it had been working - each turn he could feel himself relaxing, all the pent up energy from a deal gone to absolute shit steadily leaving his bones. But your delicate knock on the door had sent his blood boiling in a different way. He'd fought with himself to ignore it, to tell you through the door to fuck off for another day, but the idea of something warm and wet and compliant to soothe his aches and pains was too enticing to pass up. Making you in particular moan and writhe and give in to him was even more impossible to let go. In the end, the door had practically let you in all on its own.

So when his hands pull at your zipper again, yanking it in frustration, you will it down, beg with your mind for it to not snag again, and you sigh with relief when it doesn't.

In one fluid movement your pants are unceremoniously pulled to your knees, and Joel is crowding you back against his dining table, rough and aching hands on your hips to guide you. Your exposed ass collides with the solid wood, and he's pressing into you, the hardening lump in the front of his jeans poking into the softness of your belly. You can feel the frustration in him and how it twitches through his fingertips, swells in his cock, and each time you feel how the need wins out over frustration as he grinds into you, latching him onto you as his veins hunt for some kind of relief.

Another yank of your jeans and he's pulled them to your ankles, stepping on them as he pushes you to sit on the table. Your jeans stay behind, dragging your shoes from your feet with a dull thud, and Joel kicks them away. Winters in Boston are bitter, none moreso than this one, and your frozen ass barely registers the feeling of the wooden surface as you sit on it, still kitted out in your hat, coat and gloves. When you move to pull them off his hand pushes between your breasts, knocking you back onto the table. A second later there's a harsh scrape of a chair across the floor and, just as you manage to tug one glove off, he's yanking you down the table toward him.

You sit up and look down where he sits between your legs, enraptured by the softness of your skin beneath hands that glide up and down your thighs, gripping and squeezing the soft flesh more gently than the wounds on his knuckles suggest he's capable of. He's holding off, you realize then as you watch his hands, trying to slow himself from taking what he needs.

Tossing your hat to the side you lift your hips, shimmying your panties down just enough for Joel's fingers to work them down the rest of the way. Sitting back in his chair he looks between your legs, and you know that he can see what you've been feeling since you stepped onto his street. By this point, the response was Pavlovian. Each step closer to Joel's apartment you could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter, your cheeks feeling hotter and hotter. You wonder if one day he'd stop having this affect on you, or if he'd stop responding to it exactly how you knew he would, but with a knowing quirk in his brow, you know that day is not today.

"Fuck me, sweetheart. You sure no one else been down here today?"

Shaking your head, you manage one more look at him before he's pulling your legs up, hooking them over his shoulders and diving into your slick folds with a firm lick.

"N-no," you gasp, bucking slightly into his face with your legs spread over his broad shoulders. He should know that you haven't, that you wouldn't, but you think he just needs to hear the confirmation, needs to know that this thing in front of him right now is just his for the taking, and so you let him have it. "Haven't even touched myself today."

He moans into your cunt, cold nose pressing into the softness of your mound as his tongue laps and laves you. With a slurp, having cleaned up the arousal that had leaked out of you on your way here, he looks up at you, ticking his head to the side and nodding down to your bare pussy. "Well, shit, looks like all o' this is just for me, huh?"

There's no air left in your lungs for you to respond when his tongue circles your clit and makes you groan into the cold air. Whatever he needs, if this is how he was going to take it, you were damn well going to let him take everything you had.

And so, pinning you to the table he begins to devour your cunt, licking messily all over you, coating you in his saliva. He pulls you open with his arms hooked over your thighs, spreading your lips further for him. The chill hits you for just one second when you're fully spread to the cold air, but his mouth soon descends on you and all you can see are his eyes and the curve of his nose, his mouth hidden as he buries it into you.

You shuffle your jacket off, the room suddenly feeling much warmer than when you first entered it, and earn yourself a small slap to your thigh, making you squeak out a yelp of surprise, when Joel's mouth involuntarily pulls from your cunt.

"You gonna keep still? Or you gonna keep fuckin' wrigglin'?"

You shift again, biting your cheek as you test him. Channelling his energy into eating your cunt is working wonders for him and he seems calmer already, but that doesn't stop him lightly slapping your thigh again, shooting a warning look up at you.

"Got a way to keep you still if you can't fuckin' do it by yourself, sweetheart," he warns and, as if sensing you're about to test him again, he unhooks one arm from you and pushes a finger straight into your wet heat.

You moan, gasping again when he sucks your clit for good measure.

"Huh?" He's coaxing you, trying to get you to wiggle again and earn yourself another surprise. Not one to push your luck you simply moan, letting your back arch slightly when he begins to move his finger inside you. "What was that?"

"Fu-nothing. Just - fuck - so good."

You mind is liquid, seeping out of your ears and making a mess of your jacket when he licks you again, dancing the tip of two fingers around your entrance before sliding both into you. If it hurts him, he doesn't let on, but you can tell it does something to him by the groan he makes into your cunt as his fingers curl in you, making your walls clamp and twitch around his fingers.

"That's it," he murmurs. "Like gettin' this pussy ate, don't you?"

"Mm."

"Thought so. Needy fuckin' pussy. Not just your mouth that wants to be kissed is it, she needs it too?"

"Oh god, yes please, she needs it too."

And you can feel it, the moment he switches from eating your cunt to kissing it. You know the shapes, the trails he kisses, the way his tongue dances. You'd committed it to memory the past week, made yourself come at the thought of his mouth, the scratch of his beard, the feel of him beneath your fingertips, touching him as much as he was touching you. His mouth and the memory work together then, bringing you so impossibly close to coming you can feel as your moans leave you more high pitched, how you push into him, chasing and chasing that feeling that's right there -

"See," he says, stopping your orgasm in it's tracks when he pulls back, a knowing smile on his face. He pushes another finger into you too, watching as your legs twitch open wider to take him, the rim of your pussy spreading across his fingers with slicked up ease. "Don't even gotta stuff your mouth, just gotta keep this thing right here stuffed and suddenly you're actin' all nice and polite."

There's a brief hope in you that he'll go for a fourth finger, stretch you out across his sore knuckles and ready you for his hard cock, but the hope fizzles away, cast to the side and forgotten, the second his mouth joins his hand back between your thighs.

You're almost there again already, the crest of the orgasm he stole from you a moment ago barely behind you. His tongue laps rhythmically, never ceasing, and his breaths come in heavy, fanning across your folds as he feasts on you, fingers pumping so deep you're sloshing around them. You're hot, so impossibly hot in spite of the cold. You want to shed more layers, bare yourself for him, but you're so close and he's getting you there fast, goading you on with each satisfied groan into your cunt.

"That's it," he mumbles into your twitching pussy. "Fuck that's it sweetheart, come on my fingers."

You can feel it build, Joel's mouth engulfing you and lapping at everything you have to give. The beginnings of your orgasm start to shudder through you, your legs stuttering with every flick of his tongue. Your back arches from the table, toes curling in thick socks as your heels press into his back, pushing him into you. And then it hits you.

The coil in your belly snaps, letting loose an orgasm that swamps all your senses. Held down by Joel's muscular arm and pinned by the fingers hooked in you, you buck into his mouth. Quivering thighs have clamped around his ears, attempting to draw up and pull back as you squirm in his firm grip. You're screaming too, you think, a breathy high pitched shout of his name that you just can't hold back, that gets shakier and shakier the longer it goes on.

And it does go on. Joel doesn't stop, determined to wring from you as much as he can. His fingers are locked inside of you, forced to stillness by the pulsing in your pussy. Still, he can flex them, curling his pruning fingertips into you while he tongues your clit, groaning with each twitch of it beneath his tongue. You know that sound, how it's gotten deeper and more desperate as he's devoured you. It's a sound that tells you he's hard, that he needs relief and will be desperate for it the second he pulls away from you. That thought only makes you come harder, and by the time your cunt has stopped its erratic pulsing around Joel's fingers and you've fallen limp, deaf, and winded against his table, he's already standing, pushing the chair back and letting it crash to the floor.

Dragging his fingers from you he pushes between your legs, pulling his jeans open as best he can, wincing when he rasps his knuckles on the fabric a little too harshly. You reach for him, wanting to help, wanting to be a relief for him like he is for you.

"Let me -"

But he knocks your hand away, tugging down his jeans a moment later, his cock springing free and knocking into your thigh before he can capture it in his fist. It's hot against you, burning and dripping, likely feeling as achey as his knuckles do.

You expect him to plunge into you immediately, to take advantage of the position between your thighs and your pussy still fluttering with want at the sight of him, but he doesn't. Instead you watch for a moment as he strokes himself, the bloody scrapes on his knuckles contrasting harshly with the smooth, solid plains of his cock.

"Your hand, Joel, I can -"

"Fuck, my hand," he growls, resting his unmarred hand on your though to hold you still.

Your legs fall open further, his touch light on your thigh barely applying any pressure to open you up for him. Still, he doesn't take the clear route in, and you're rocking forward trying to notch his tip on your entrance just as the rough scrape of his knuckles drags across your sensitive inner thigh.

"Please put it in me," you finally beg, needing to feel the deep stretch of his cock as it pierces you.

"Nuh-uh, sweetheart, you get what you're given and you be grateful. You gonna take it?"

"Yes," you say quickly, following on with a small, "Please."

He groans at your eagerness to please. Making a man like Joel desire you so much he can't help but moan, just with small words and gasps of your own, makes you feel a power you've never had before and your eyes just about roll back in your head.

"Use your hands, show me that hole," he demands, giving you a little space to reach down and spread yourself for him. Your pussy is leaking, still, you can feel the slick spread on your fingers as you spread yourself for him. "That's it, hold yourself open. Fuck she's still twitchin'. Fuuuck. That's it."

His strokes become longer, more fluid, as he stares at your aching, empty cunt. You still want him inside, would do anything to get him there, but the desire in his eyes tells you he's getting exactly what he wants right now, and you almost want that more.

Tilting his head back as he strokes his cock with pussy drenched fingers, his bruised knuckles rub against your cunt with every stroke. Holding yourself open is easy, but keeping your legs from snapping shut each time his fist rubs your clit feels almost impossible. As if noticing, Joel pulls back, looking down where your cunt is spread open for it.

"That's it, keep it open. Good girl."

You know you're glistening for him, he'd eaten you so fiercely his saliva had been dripping from you, mixing with your own slick as you came on his tongue. He can see the evidence of it now, and the evidence of what his words do to you at the tell tale twitch of your cunt at his praise.

You can't take it any more and you beg in desperation again. "Please put it in, please."

It does nothing but earn you another soft slap to your thigh, which he rubs, grabbing the meat of you and squeezing in his large hand as his cock twitches and drips in his damaged one.

"No," he grunts, breath coming in more ragged now. "Want you to fuckin' wear me. Know who's pussy this is?"

"Yours."

"Fuck," he hisses. "Yeah it is. Pussy's mine, sweetheart. Mine."

Gripping your thigh tighter he moves in closer again, his hand bumping your sensitive nub as he jerks so closely you slick up his knuckles, soothing the soreness and jerking your clit in tandem.

"Oh fuck, that's it, sweetheart. Keep it just like that, show me that pussy. Show me," he's saying, over and over as he watches you.

A second later he's looking up, staring straight into your eyes and pinning you there on the table with them. You nod, words stuck in your throat when all you want to scream is for him to come, to cover you in it, to claim your pussy just like he needs, just like you want.

The sneer on his lips tells you he wants it too, and before you know it his tip is pressing firmly to your clit, jerking it with every frantic movement of his fist, his hips thrusting minutely into it like he can't control it, can't hold it back any more. And neither can you. The pressure and the movement on your clit is too much and you're coming again, so soon after the first it brings tears to your eyes.

"Ohhh, f-Joel, pleasecomeonme."

Looking down where he's pressed to you, he hisses a breath in through his teeth, holding it for just one second until it pushes out of him with a deep, shakey moan, cum exploding out of his tip and coating your folds, dripping through you until the last spurt coats your mound and he's left breathless.

You flop onto the table, grateful for the padding your coat offers your bones as you collapse into the wood. He's leaning over you, finally releasing his grip on your thigh and running a thumb across his mouth, cock still in his aching fist. Using the oversensitive tip, he smears the cum into your bare cunt and the insides of your thighs, catching your eyes just in time to watch them turn from glassy to rattling in your head, your mouth in a small O when he jerks your clit with his head, making you both gasp.

"You did say this pussy was mine," he says, letting a small wry smile tug at his cheeks. He pulls back then, letting go of his spent cock to run his fingers through your cum covered folds, scooping up a drop with his thumb.

Leaning leaning over you, he swipes his cum slicked thumb against your lips. You suck on it, tasting him, salty and bitter and sweet and Joel exploding on your tongue all at once. You want to thank him for it, but he pulls your mouth open with his thumb and pushes two fingers in, making you clean them with broad soothing strokes. You're careful not to catch him with your teeth, still aware of the wounds on his knuckles as you taste yourself off of his cum soaked fingers. If his hand looks like that, you wonder what the person on the receiving end looks like - the thought shouldn't make your cunt twitch, you know it shouldn't, that it's likely sick and twisted and wrong, but it does, and you moan around his fingers just has he pulls them from your mouth.

When your eyes flick to his lips, he smirks, knowing what you want without even asking. Cupping your face with his bruised, wet fingers, he makes you look at him, waits for the desperation in your eyes to ramp up to the point of frustration before he gives it to you.

Just a peck, that's all he gives, soft lips and the tickle of his facial hair so fleeting you could have blinked and missed it, before picking up the chair with a groan and settling back in it with a deep sigh, inspecting his wrinkled fingers. They'd spent so long buried in you the tips are starting to pucker, the ache that your warmth had soothed slowly crawling back down his knuckles.

Your mind is slowly pulling itself together, slowly crawling back into your ears and taking root in your skull again. Joel's eyes scan across you before finding something apparently considerably more interesting on the floor by his dining table.

"Where the fuck you shoppin' this late in the day?" he says with a frown, and you sit up, following his gaze to the floor.

Your pants are in a tangle, a sprawled mess on the floor with your shoes from where Joel had dragged them from your body and there, next to them in a messy pile, is a small stack of cards that you'd brought with you.

"Oh."

Right. You came here to talk to him, to renegotiate your arrangement, before Joel had needed more from you than a chat in that first moment through the door and pushed all thought of conversation from your mind. You clear your throat and square your shoulders, pushing away the last haze of orgasm and look back up at him. "I'm not. They're for you."

With a groan, he bends to pick them up, counting them as he stands and then raising them to you with a question on his lips.

"What're these for?"

"For the pills," you say, like it's obvious, like you hadn't been using your body as payment for months.

"I've already taken my payment," he says with a look to your cum coated cunt. "'n' if you wanna pay me for your daddies pills, you know it's more than this, right?"

"I can take 'em back if you don't want 'em. I just figured we can pay a bit now and, y'know... I wanna come here because I wanna come here, for me, not just for pills all the time." It sounded better when you rehearsed it in your head this morning, but coming out of your mouth now it sounds ridiculous.

He looks at you for a moment, taking you in, sat pantsless and dripping on his dining table.

"Y'know, there's a simpler solution to this than dumpin' cards on me without warnin', right?" If there is, you haven't thought of it. "Stop only comin' by when you need pills." Oh.

"If you want somethin' else, you know where I am. Now, if you don't wanna whore yourself for meds anymore, if you wanna be respectable, then that's fine. I'll take your cards. But I ain't takin' all of 'em. I'm keepin' these," he says raising a few cards up to you. "And you're takin' these," he pushes the remaining ones into your hand along with a small bag of pills he slips out of his pocket and you frown. You already weren't offering him enough.

"Now I get a nice respectable, good girl to fuck, and you get to pretend you're not a whore. Win-win."

"I'm not a whore," you insist, rolling your eyes, even though you know it's not exactly true.

Joel simply shrugs, shaking out your jeans and throwing them on the table next to you before placing his hand by your ass, thumb stroking delicately along the soft skin there, and leaning down toward you. He tilts your head up to face him, his nose catching yours as your eyes meet his.

"Whore or not, sweetheart," he smirks. "Pussy's still mine."

You weren't going to argue with him there.

taglist: @jupiter-soups @wannab-urs @bean-is-reading @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @youandmeand5bucks-blog @bbyanarchist @vickywallace @kamcrazy123 @valkyreally @ashhlsstuff @a-literal-goblin @ariundercovers @iluvurfather @stevie75 @toxicanonymity @thesevi0lentdelights @sp00kymulderr

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #pedro pascal characters #joel miller/reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #fic: SWAT #coveted fics

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bluejutdae · 10 months ago

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Insomniacs | Bang Chan x you

synopsis: Chan is your roommate and you both have trouble with insomnia

Another sleepless night. Another night of tossing and turning. Another headache that you can feel starting at the back of your head. There’s really no point in staying in bed anymore, but you have to be quiet cause your roommate is maybe asleep, and you don’t wanna risk waking him up.

You wander through the apartment and end up in the kitchen, maybe some chamomile tea would help? After you heard noises from Chan’s room, too loud to be just him moving in his sleep, it’s easy to decide to make two cups and leave his on the kitchen table.

On nights like this, standing up is a chore. You’re tired to the bones, but your brain doesn’t seem to have received the message: awake, loud and a bit mean, it’s more awake than ever. Just few minutes later, your hear soft steps getting closer, and Chan finds you sitting on the kitchen floor. Your back to the cabinets door, warm mug between your hands, a warm substitute for real affection.

“No sleep tonight, uh?” Chan grabs his mug and raises it in a mock toast in your direction. He then sits at your side, knee knocking in yours and his head hits with a soft thud the kitchen furniture. You answer with a quiet hum and a shake of your head.

“Wanna talk about it?” You can’t help a smile from appearing on your face. Chan is always so gentle, so caring, that falling deep for him was way too easy and natural. “There’s not much to talk about. What about you?”

“Bad dream. Don’t wanna talk about it.”

“But you wanna talk?”

The two of you do this sometimes, you sit on the floor and talk about everything and nothing. There are only few things you’ll never tell each other: you’re never confessing to him, he’s never telling you he’s felt alone for so long before you arrived, you’re never telling him he’s the best part of your life.

He nods and sips his chamomile. “I heard sharks likes to be pet by subs.” One topic is as good as the other, but it gets the conversation started…

[…]

It’s hours later when he says: “…and so they broke up”, he concludes the story about a couple of his friends and their messy romance.

“That’s sad, tho. The idea of loving someone so much but not being able to be with them.” You’re looking in front of you, Chan’s face on the left of your visual field. You know what’s like to love someone but not being with him, watching him and being happy about his accomplishments but only doing it as a friend, as a roommate.

“Mh”, he nods and picks at the skin of his thumb with his teeth. “That sucks, you’re right. I hope they’ll manage to solve their problems and finally be happy.” With his head still resting on the cabinet’s door, he turns it towards you. “Are you happy?”

Your first instinct is to scoff. Your second instinct is to cry. Are you happy? What are you gonna answer Chan?

“I don’t know.” Your voice is so quiet you’re not sure he heard you. You’re about to drop the subject when he makes an inquisitive sound. Have you always been weak in front of Chan? Have you always given him all he asked for? “I don’t know, Chan. I have pretty much everything I need, I should be happy, right? I have a decent job, a pretty apartment, friends, health…” your sentence hangs incomplete. You know what is missing, but you can’t say it.

How do you tell your roommate you love him? How do you tell him you’d be happy if he were yours? How do you tell someone they’re the reason you keep smiling day by day without weighting them of the burden, the responsibility? And even if you were brave enough (and selfish enough) to tell him, then what if he doesn’t reciprocate and you lose him?

“It’s okay to want more.” Too kind, too good.

“What about you?” You ask, maybe he’ll forget your words.

“Are you asking me if I’m happy or if I want more?” What are you asking? You’re not sure, so you shrug, letting him pick for you. “I am happy.” he says, and then Chan does something that in all the late night talks you shared he has never done: he reaches for your hand and interlocks his fingers with yours. His palm is warm against yours, bigger, you can feel his callous on his fingers. “I could be happier,” he continues. “I want more, too.”

How can something so simple as holding hands make your heart race? Why are you suddenly so warm and happy? “It’s okay to want more” you repeat his words.

Chan’s face opens up in a beautiful smile and you blush so hard you can only hide your face, letting your head rest on his shoulder, hands still clasped together.

Later, you’ll kiss. Later, you’ll both confess, reciprocated feeling and plans for the future. Later, you’ll decide to make it official, so there’ll never be misunderstandings in this. But for now, the sun rising catches you unmoved. Hands clasped, heads resting close and you both asleep. You’re gonna regret falling asleep sitting in the kitchen floor, but this was the best late night talk for you two, so a cricked neck and achy asses are worth it.

#stray kids fanfic #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #bluejutdae #skz #bang chan x reader #bang chan x you #chan fluff #Thiana writes Chan

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nicoliharu · 1 year ago

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Coli!! Hi hi good morning!! Do you have any Headcanons for Ruggie?? Like, when you draw him do you have anything you always include or leave out? Just curious hehe I love your art!! Have a nice day <3 <3 <3

Hi Dede! Thanks for the ask🥺😭💗

I will comment on what I would like to do differently when I draw him cause for me you write him PERFECT and I wouldn't change anything! This guy is precious and needs love to know he isn't inferior to anyone! 😭💗

⚠️ My headcanons (design) Ruggie Bucchi:

So, aren't that many changes, it's just simple, the way I usually imagine him 🥺👉👈

🍩 Skin: Ruggie has more melanin, I personally love Ruggie with any skin tone but forgive me Yana but it's hard to resist painting his skin like that.

I mean, I think it goes much better with his color palette. Personally, I would paint with this palette for him in my fanart and content forever. I want to eternally thank whoever had the idea of giving more melanin to his plush 🥺💗 I don't know if it's my laptop screen that's old, but it looks a little desaturated, but I'll adjust over time.

🍩 Blonde lashes: I still need to practice more cause I love the idea that Ruggie would have some blonde lashes, not gold and flashy but brown light 🥺

🍩 Freckles: Excessive on the nose/cheeks, ends of the arms, and a lot on the back…IT'S CANON IN MY HEAD, YANA YOU FAILED ME, HOW YOU DARE?? HOW CAN YOU NOT GIVE HIM FRECKLES?😭

🍩 Body hair: Well, he's a guy who's growing, he's about to turn 18, there's no chance no have body hair. Besides, I believe that beastmen have more body hair than humans, so for Ruggie I imagine golden hair but if it gets wet it turns a little brown, on the arms and legs 😔👉👈

🍩 Eye pupil: I know that's normal but I like to think that his pupil becomes ''thin'' (how in English is this?) when he feels threatened or annoyed by something and dilates when he sees something that interests/likes him.

🍩 Teeth: Bigger and thicker than Leona and Jack. Please, spotted hyenas have a bone-breaking bite and tear thick skins too. Ruggie canonically said he can easily eat steak with bones…Oh gosh if he likes bite who he lov- STOP NICOLI SHHHH

🍩 Hair: A little rough and messy with some split ends, I don't think he cares much about any special shampoo or conditioner, taking care of his hair. Besides, I think he occasionally cuts it with scissors on his own. I know I could leave it wavy or curly but thinking that rough bristles remind me of hyenas' fur makes me so 🥺

🍩 Body: We know that Ruggie's thin cause his condition but I believe that his legs and arms are ''strong'' of cause the acrobatic way in which he moves, both day to day, running and practicing at the Club. I don't mean bulging muscles but you realize that given his activities and abilities it makes sense!!! 😔

🍩 About the piercing: it was a detail I wanted to add but I don't know if I always imagine him with that or not 🤡👌

Forgive my grammar and English mistakes! These are my humble headcanons for Ruggie's design, if anyone thinks differently this is just fun for everyone, y'all have the right to imagine how they want. And I would like to say one more thing, about other details that I can only talk about better with more drawings, such as excess hair with spots above his tail (I love this detail too). So there will always be changes for everything!

Thank you again for your ask Dede, you're a wonderful writer that I admire so much and love your works! 🥺😭💗💗💗

#my headcanons for Ruggie bucchi #personal #twst ruggie #ruggie bucchi #twst savanaclaw #twst fanart #twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #savanaclaw #my art

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pervertwhore · 5 months ago

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(omg ok first time doing this but)

ok this is a safe space (saw piss kink n my neurons ACTIVATED) so while having ur throat clogged w his cock u taste piss n ur obv disgusted by it so u (softly) bite in protest trying to let him know what's wrong n instead of letting you up he keeps your head in place n gruffly says in his alcohol fueled voice "can you taste my piss, bitch? hm? can't be still without having something in your mouth, and now you're bitching *again,"* he says w a grunt as he forces himself deeper down ur esophagus making you gag n retch— 🔇

tw. piss drinking & dark! leon kennedy under cut!

NONNIE! THIS IS SOO HOT!!! hello my dearly beloved omfg this…i want you so bad, when i tell you my hand teleported into my pants when i read this for the first time like how did that happen!!1!1 no cause when i say piss kink this is what i’m talking abt i need to consume this man’s acid piss 🔥

YES!! this is a safe place i promise, never be shy to talk to me abt anything cuz chance is i’ll match your freak .. i hope to see you in my ask box again soon.. xx

if you don’t like piss, save yourself and skip this post LMFAO it’ll be easier for the both of us 🔥

but yeah! i can definitely see it :(( your knees are all bruised up and achy while leon’s cock was shoved inside your mouth uncomfortably. you bopped your head, taking him in and out, your warm tongue pressing on his shaft, feeling the veins that adorn his skin against your muscle.

while your throat is occupied, leon is lounging, his hand gripping the back of your head while his nails scratched your scalp. he’s lazily rolling his hips against your face while a familiar pressure in his lower tummy ached.

leon had to piss, of course he did, he was shooting back some whiskey like it was water. one thing about alcohol was, not only does it give you a nice buzz, but it makes you piss more.

as you eagerly sucked his cock, leon could feel the pressure building up more and more. sure, he knew he should pull out and go take a leak, but where’s the fun in that?

so, without warning, he just started to piss, not caring about your feelings on the matter. the warm salty liquid overtook your mouth before you could even realize what the hell was happening — once you did, you gripped his thighs, manicured nails digging into his flesh as your teeth pressed against his shaft. you had tried to pull your head back, but his grip on the back of your head tightened, his grip was firm, keeping his cock shoved down your mouth, forcing the piss to travel down your throat.

you didn’t want to choke, so swallowing was your only choice.

you tried to struggle against him, but all he did was shove you down his cock. his free hand moving to pinch your nose, blocking air flow. “stop bitching,” he grunted, his brow furrowing, trying to bite his cock? are you stupid? “it’s just some piss, you’re not going to die.” leon scoffed, letting go of your nose so you could breathe, but he kept your pretty face pressed flushed against his crotch, your nose pressing against his pubic bone.

by now, tears are slipping past your waterline, the taste of his piss and the feeling of his cock blocking your throat was making it hard to keep yourself from fighting against him. your body curled, gagging and retching against his cock, your drool pooling onto the floor while some of his piss left your lips — you clawed at his thighs, wanting to pull away, you didn’t want to throw up. god, the idea made you shiver and gag.

leon, on the other hand, didn’t care how much you gagged and retched, he let his body relax as the pressure in his lower belly relieved itself.

letting out a low groan, leon leaned his head back against the couch when the stream ended.

once you forcefully swallowed back the last gulps of his piss, you immediately tried to pull away from him — to catch your breath and cough, but leon’s hand remained firm on the back of your head.

“ah-ah,” he huffed, a lazy smirk curling on his lips, “i’m not done yet.” he reminded, thrusting his hips up against your pretty face, why would he let you pull away? his cock was still hard, and he was making that your problem.

#tw.piss #♡ 、fanmail!#〜 thirsts !! ☆#— nonnies!#dark!leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x y/n

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halfvalid · 1 year ago

Text

kitten

ABOUT

alternate title: the pet name 'kitten' is gross when used by men but it's cute when a woman nami says it

rating: general audiences

characters: live action!nami | fem!reader | live action!roronoa zoro

pairing: live action!nami x fem!reader

word count: 4.4k

description: nami is aware you've got a crush on one of the straw hats, and she's determined to find out who—but she's completely oblivious to the fact that you actually like her.

tags: strawhat!reader, female reader, fluff, kissing, confessions, no use of “y/n”, pet name "kitten", banter, absolutely tooth rotting amounts of fluff, a little bit of (affectionate) zoro slander

author’s note: i interrupt your regularly scheduled zoro fic posts to provide you with a sapphic nami oneshot instead because she is my wife and i love her dearly.

zoro accidentally popped up a bit too much in this because he's always on my mind. my apologies <3

You’d always liked astronomy. The current-world navigation had nothing to do with the stars, really; at least not when it came to the Grand Line. Unnatural magnetic fields and the odd weather was reason enough for that—but celestial navigation wasn’t even often used in any of the four quadrants. Too finicky, people would say; you know the practice had stopped being in use in the Marines years ago.

Nami knew it all, though. She was the only one of the Straw Hats who could read the stars, the sky spreading out as a map that only her eyes could read.

Your interest in it had always been more… artistic. While Nami babbled on about angles and reference points and sextants, you liked to talk about the planets and heavenly bodies blanketing the sky. It was dusk, and the sun was kissing the horizon good night, dull hues of pink and orange spreading alongside the sea with a golden shimmer as it tucked safely away.

You’d been lying out on the main deck for a good few hours, stretched like a cat along a hammock you’d strung up forever ago, when you heard footsteps.

“There you are, kitten,” Nami said with a laugh, and you sat up to appraise her. The evening glow cast fire to her orange hair, a blazing halo surrounding her head and painting her skin over in gold dust. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Hi,” you said with a soft smile. “What for?”

“Well, for one, you missed supper.” Nami gingerly took a seat on the side of your hammock, the canvas cloth rocking from side to side with the motion. “Avoiding your crush again?”

You let out a sigh, half-exasperated as your bottom lip sucked in between your teeth. You nibbled at the flesh there, not responding. Nami had figured out a few weeks ago that you had a crush on one of the other Straw Hats, and she brought it up every so often, although all it did was cause a crease in your brow bone and a flicker of annoyance on your face.

“What, am I not supposed to bring that up?” Nami teased. The light shone in her crystal blue eyes, clear like the sky during midday, not a cloud in sight. “You still haven’t told me who it is.”

“Because you’ll pull something if I do!” you protested. “Don’t try to deny it, you conniving little witch.”

Nami gasped in mock-offense, a hand plastered to her chest. “And destroy your dignity like that? I would never.”

“I don’t trust you,” you answered, and Nami clicked her tongue. “What did Sanji make?”

“Fish. Soup. Rice.”

“You’re so undescriptive,” you said with a wrinkle of your nose. Nami just laughed.

“Not everyone can be as artistic as you, kitten. Come on, everyone left the kitchen already. You don’t have to worry about running into your mystery man.” She winked at the last sentence, and your breath caught. Nami seemed to notice, because she laughed, stepping up from the hammock and grabbing your hand to help you off. “You’re hilarious.”

“I didn’t say anything!” you protested. Nami just gave you a look, and you rolled your eyes, but let her drag you along the ship until you reached the kitchen. “You’re so mean to me,” you said, slumping into the nearest chair available.

“Mhm. Here.” Nami started serving up a plate, loading it full of food before passing it over to you. It was quickly joined by a bowl of soup. “Eat. We’re docking tomorrow, so you should get your energy up. We’re going shopping.”

“Shopping for what?” you asked, bringing the bowl of soup to your lips. Seaweed. “If you say rope and boat parts I’m going to scream.” As much as you liked the pirate life, there was only so much of the technicalities you could take. You weren’t very much a practical soul, lumped in very much with Luffy when it came to your general attitude of your job description. Pirating consisted of adventure and art, in your opinion.

“Rope and boat parts,” Nami said with a straight face. She’d always been the exact opposite, all focused on maps and making sure everything was running smoothly. “Well, only partly. I’ve been sent to go clothes shopping too. And to pick up a few other supplies.” Her eyes sparkled. “You’re coming with me, right? Well, unless you want to join your…”

“Shut up,” you said, making a face at her as you set your bowl down. Nami just laughed.

“Just putting it out there, kitten. I’m sure you might be more interested in going with Usopp to talk to the stevedores. Or Zoro to the local tavern. Or Sanji for the—”

“Nope, nope, and nope. I’m going with you,” you said firmly. There was a whisper of a smile at your lips, but Nami didn’t seem to notice it. “And I still don’t get why I’m a kitten.”

“Because,” Nami answered, propping her elbows on the table as she gazed over at you. “I’m the cat burglar. You’re the kitten.”

“Why isn’t Luffy the kitten?”

“Luffy’s the captain, and I don’t like him as much.” Nami straightened, starting to clean up around the kitchen and load the abandoned dishes from when everyone else had eaten into the sink. You smiled at that. “You don’t like him, do you? I feel like you could do so much better.”

“My lips are sealed,” you answered. Nami gave you a sidelong look.

“That better not be a yes.”

You just shrugged, raising the bowl of soup again and finishing the rest of it before turning to the rice and fish. “Let’s not talk about it. What about you? Any romantic prospects—”

Nami turned so abruptly you almost choked while eating. “I just barely started learning how to make friends. Maybe we wait a few months before we get to that,” she said. You coughed, palm pressed to your lips as you cleared out your airways.

“Okay. Aggressive.”

Nami scowled. “That was not aggressive.”

You pulled a face. “Kinda sounds like you have something to hide, Nami,” you teased, and although you didn’t actually expect her to react, she did. To your surprise, Nami turned away again, the very edges of her face pinkening. You stared at her, heartbeat slowing to a steady thud in your chest. There was a faint taste of panic at the back of your throat, slightly sour and acidic like blood or rust. “Um, what was that?”

“What was what?” Nami asked evenly. Too evenly. You gaped at her back, organs wobbling precariously inside of your chest.

“That—thing.”

“Kitten, if you want me to understand what you’re talking about, you’re going to have to be a little clearer than that,” Nami said smoothly. “Now it’s getting dark. You should get to bed. Last chance to shove yourself with your crewmate of choice.”

“I’m still going with you,” you said stubbornly, shoveling the last of your rice in your mouth before slipping off your chair. You moved around the table, setting your bowl and chopsticks into the sink. “You want me to do them?” you asked, nodding at the dirty dishes that’d piled up. Nami shook her head.

“Go sleep,” she said gently. “I’ll get you in the morning.”

You watched her for a moment, lips twisting before you finally relented. “Night, Nami,” you said, and she turned away. You were safe there for a moment, admiring how the soft backlit glow from the windows etched shadows along her face. She really was beautiful, and your heart thudded fast in your chest.

Nami was the strongest person you knew. The smartest person you knew. The Straw Hats wouldn’t be the same without her, and sometimes you found it funny how she seemed so convinced you had a crush on one of the other members of the crew when it was so obvious that she was your north star.

Ah, well. She’d just have to keep on guessing.

Nami woke you at the crack of dawn, where the hazy rays of the sun just started rising up from the sea shore. You’d traveled to shore while asleep, and everyone was already up and running.

“Luffy left already,” Nami was saying, tying a bandana around her head as you gathered up the rest of the supplies you needed. “And we’ll probably spend the whole day out, so we can get lunch in the village.” She eyed you. “I packed breakfast. Come on.”

You followed her off the ship, savoring the early morning wind along the harbor. The dock men were all already hard at work, milling around the dozens of boats with tools and equipment propped on their shoulders. “Where to first?” you asked.

“Boat parts,” she said, casting you a sympathetic smile. “Some rope, extra sails, some other stuff. After that I’m thinking groceries—I put Sanji in charge of bulk stock this time, so just stuff like soap and necessities—and then clothes.” She grinned. “And some fun stuff.”

“Sounds good to me,” you said. Nami did most of the talking, but you were content to watch her barter, leaning back on your heels as she argued with sellers and eventually left with a satisfied smirk on your face. She hired some of the dock men to carry the ropes and items to the Going Merry, looking her arm in yours and going off to your next stop.

“You know, you’re basically stealing from them like this,” you told her, a smile evident in your voice. “Forty-five thousand berry to thirty thousand. That’s actually terrifying.”

“I said take it or leave it and he took it.” Nami shrugged, but you could see a beam of pride shine through her face. “But enough of that. The market’s up ahead.”

The entire village seemed to have been brought out, because true to Nami’s words, there was a fair going on. Stalls boasting all kinds of wares lined the streets, and you peeked through all of them, even at Nami’s urges to hurry up and focus only on your shopping list. She watched you with a soft smile on her lips, the expressions interlaced with ones of exasperation.

“I should’ve just picked a random man and carted you off with him,” she said with a click of her tongue as you spent far too much time glancing through a stand of knick-knacks and jewelry. “Currently either Zoro or Sanji are my top contenders.”

You barely suppressed a snort, fingers carefully combing through a bowl of baubles. There were various items inside, from earrings missing a sister to pins and little statuettes. “How come?”

“Usopp has Kaya, so I would hope you don’t like him,” Nami said. You raised an eyebrow, glancing up to meet her gaze.

“Kaya’s all the way back in Syrup Village, Nami. She can’t do anything, and who knows when we’ll return there?”

Nami gave you a horrified look. “Kitten, that’s a terrible thing to say.”

You just laughed, dropping your gaze again and picking at the bowl. There was a dull gleam of something at the bottom; it wasn’t gold or brass like anything else there, and was instead a shining, milky white. You dug through the pile, trying to get to it. “You’re such a romantic.”

“Does that mean it is Usopp?”

“I do not confirm nor deny a thing,” you said, finally plucking out what had captured your attention. It was a necklace, the pendant a glittering star on a gold chain. “And I want reasoning.”

“You’re not buying that,” Nami said, gaze flickering down to it before meeting your eyes again. “Zoro because he’s conventionally attractive and Sanji because he can cook.”

You scoffed, studying the necklace. “Those are terrible reasons.”

“I can’t think of any good ones,” Nami protested. “The only thing I can think of are reasons you wouldn’t like any of them. Because they’re all kind of losers and you could do much, much better.” She tilted her head imperceptibly upwards, and you saw a little glimmer in her eye, a reaction that bore uncanny similarity to the one she’d worn the day before. You swallowed, throat suddenly dry.

“You think Zoro’s conventionally attractive?” You turned towards the stand seller, motioning at the necklace. “How much?”

“You’re not buying that,” Nami repeated, shooting you a look. “It’s a waste of perfectly good berry.”

“It’s five hundred at most,” you scoffed, fishing a wad of bills out from your pocket. Nami sighed, but she didn’t argue. “Barely anything. Do you think Zoro’s conventionally attractive?”

Nami looked distracted. “Hm?”

“You said Zoro was conventionally attractive,” you repeated, voice firmer this time. You tried to suppress the little tremble in your cadence as you passed the money to the seller. He counted it and gave you a firm nod. Carefully, you dropped the necklace in your pocket. “Do you think he is?”

“Well—from an objective standpoint—”

You pushed past the swarm of patrons milling around the stands, Nami having to quicken her pace to keep up with you. “Attraction isn’t objective.”

“Kitten.” Nami grabbed your wrist, forcing you to slow down, and you flinched. She tugged you in the direction of another stand, probably something off her list. “Why do you care so much? Am I right? Is he the one you like?”

You wiggled your wrist out of Nami’s grip. “I don’t care, I’m just curious. Because you’ve been blushing for the past half hour and you mentioned Zoro was conventionally attractive. And if you say he’s conventionally attractive that means you think he’s conventionally attractive. So assumedly you are blushing because of—”

It clearly took Nami a moment to unscramble your honestly entirely nonsensical words. “Kitten, I’m trying to figure out whether or not you have a crush on Zoro. You’re not supposed to be trying to figure out if I do. And I have not been blushing.”

You relented, but still couldn’t suppress the pout that threatened your mouth. Your teeth pressed against the flesh of your lower lip, running alongside the skin but not fully biting. “You said Zoro was conven—”

“If I have to hear you say the words conventionally attractive one more time, I swear I will lock you in the hold,” Nami said sharply, and you had to choke back your laugh. “And the reason I said that is because every single time we go out, at least five people turn to stare at his stupid face. Do you not remember that time on Mirror Ball Island? We practically had to fight women off of him.”

“Okay, fine,” you said, a glimpse at her features seemed to support her words. She was as guarded as ever, and clearly irritated, though her vexation didn’t seem as bad as the annoyances she’d hold over the rest of the crew. They never did, really; Luffy always liked to say that you were Nami’s favorite. “I’m hungry. Can we eat?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I neither confirm nor deny anything,” you repeated for what seemed like the thousandth time in the past week. “Restaurant. Please.”

Nami didn’t look away from you, but relented, and the two of you went to the nearest restaurant to have lunch. You were mainly silent during the meal, replaying the conversation from before over and over again in your head. There was a buzz of uncertainty in the pit of your stomach, one that you entirely disliked.

Before you’d been fine with keeping quiet about your crush—you never felt too threatened or upset, under the impression that your feelings wouldn’t be reciprocated and that Nami wouldn’t fall for anyone in the near future anyway. And you didn’t mind her guessing between your four male comrades to find the one who’d stolen your heart.

But the reactions and the blushes were a development. And you were starting to think that Nami herself had a mystery beau.

Nami talked about work during the meal, going down her grocery list and checking off the things she’d gotten. You watched her as she glared down at her notebook, pencil caught between two fingers as she scribbled down notes to herself. “You’re not eating,” you said gently.

“Sorry. Distracted,” Nami answered. She shot you a smile, but it quickly fell as she turned back to her notebook. “What about Sanji?”

You suppressed a sigh. “Are you still on about this?”

“Yes,” Nami insisted. She finally shut her notebook, slipping it into the bag hanging off her waist and picking up her chopsticks to return to her soup noodles. “You’d never go hungry with him around, at least.”

“I think you need to raise your standards. I already don’t go hungry with him around, I don’t need to date him for that.”

Nami clicked her tongue, but it was good-natured. “You’re making this so hard for me.”

“I don’t want to talk about myself anymore,” you insisted, setting down your chopsticks. You’d basically finished your bowl already; there were only the final remnants of broth and rice noodles at the bottom, the soup seasoning darker in color; more pungent.

You fiddled with your hands, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach that persisted even as you thought back to what Nami had said about Zoro. Her reasoning had been sound enough, but you still felt vaguely sick, that bitter taste of sour iron at the back of your throat again.

“Are you okay?” Nami’s eyes met yours, and you flinched away. “You’re acting weird.”

“I’m fine,” you muttered. “I think I’m going to head back to the ship and take a nap. I’m kind of tired.” Before Nami could say anything, you got up, chair scraping along the restaurant floor. “See you later?”

“What? Kitten, wait—” Nami called, but you just swallowed, glancing over your shoulder to shoot her an apologetic look.

The Going Merry was a breath of fresh air as you stepped foot back onto her deck. There were some dockmen milling about, setting material along the deck as Usopp directed them as to where everything went.

You brushed past them to veer towards your hammock, slipping onto it and kicking your legs up along the cloth without pause. Your eyes closed, and you let the sun melt down on your face, the tension in your chest easing as you embraced the beam of the sky.

You stayed there for a while, knowing you were safe as Nami wouldn’t come find you until she’d finished with all her actual tasks. Although this was occasionally irritating if you were in real desire for attention, you appreciated the responsible side of her now. You didn’t have to confront her for a few hours yet, so you spent the time on your hammock, watching the clouds drifting in the sky and picking out the dull stars that shimmered as the sky got darker.

It was just before suppertime when you remembered the necklace you’d bought. Stars were just beginning to materialize, dark blues and purples replacing the cerulean hues that previously blanketed the Earth. You fished the star necklace out of your pocket, peering at the pendant again. It was made of some sort of shimmering stone you didn’t recognize—perhaps opal—that made it glow like an actual star, iridescent when light hit it.

“Hey, kitten.”

You looked up, watching as Nami made her way across the ship deck to where you lay. She looked tired, but still bore a soft smile on her face as she met your gaze. “Hi,” you said, tucking the necklace back into your pocket. Behind her you could see the last of the hired work carrying barrels down to the hold. “Get everything done?”

“Mhm,” Nami said. “Wanna talk about earlier?”

“Not really,” you muttered, the sharp tang of rust dancing at the back of your tongue again. “Sorry about storming out. I felt unwell.”

Nami studied you carefully, arms folding unconsciously over her chest. “I can stop bothering you about your crush, if you want,” she said finally, a gust of a sigh leaving her lips. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“No, it’s okay,” you said, getting up and climbing your legs over the edge so you were sitting on the hammock. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable, Nami, I swear.”

“You walked out in the middle of a meal, kitten,” Nami said, and you could hear her voice starting to get upset, even as she tried to level her tone. “Clearly I did. Was it because I kept trying to figure it out? Was I right with Zoro? What—”

“It’s not because of that,” you interrupted, trying to keep your voice gentle even as your chest squeezed inward. You were powerless to your muscles; to your heart as it did a pathetic little thump-thump thing inside of you.

“Then why?” Nami leaned forward on her heels, and the setting sun caught her eyes, kaleidoscope blue glittering a thousand different shades like the opal of your necklace. “Just tell me, kitten. So I won’t do it again.”

“It was because of you,” you mumbled, shying away from her gaze. Nami sighed.

“Yes, we established that I did something to upset you already. I’m trying to find out what—”

“You called Zoro attractive and I was jealous,” you blurted, before you could even think to stop the words from falling out of your mouth. Nami froze, and you lifted your eyes up hesitantly to see her reaction.

Her shoulders were all tense, face guarded, eyes blank from their usual expression. “Oh,” she said evenly. There was an ugly purse tightening at her lips, and she fought to keep them in an even line. “So it is Zoro, then. Thank you for telling me.”

She turned away then, her movements abrupt as she started walking. A pulse of panic captured your heart, and you called desperately out to her, volume far too loud in the late hour. You didn’t find yourself caring. “I wasn’t jealous of you!” you cried, and Nami’s entire body went still.

She turned back towards you, so slowly that you found yourself capturing your breath in your throat waiting for her.

“I wasn’t jealous of you,” you repeated once her eyes met yours. “I was jealous of Zoro. Of you thinking he was attractive.” Your fingers fumbled together, trying to find something to occupy themselves with as you choked out the final sentence. “My mystery man is you, Nami. I like you.”

It took a long while for Nami to respond, and the Going Merry rocked as you waited, a soft sway of delay and building panic. There was a shimmer of something in Nami’s eyes, and her lips tugged downwards.

Her voice was hollow when she spoke. “What?”

“I don’t like Zoro or Usopp or Sanji or Luffy, Nami,” you said, hands tightening around each other with every word spilt out from between your lips. “I like you. I like you when you call me kitten. I like you when you complain about me buying things but let me do it anyway. I like you even when you’re teasing me about my crush.” Your voice dropped to a low mumble. “And I was jealous because you thought Zoro was attractive.”

“Oh, kitten,” Nami said, and you glanced up to see her right in front of you, bent over to meet your level sitting down. She reached for your hands, and you let her take them, exhaling as her tender grasp clasped around your palms.

“Nami,” you whispered, horrified to hear how wet your voice sounded. You blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay. “Nami, you may be the ship’s navigator, but you’re my north star. I like you.”

Kitten, I do not think Zoro is attractive,” Nami said, and you had to choke back startled laughter at that being what she was focusing on. “That is the least of your worries.”

“But—you seemed so annoyed when you thought it was Zoro—don’t you like—”

“You’ve got it all wrong,” Nami said, a soft laugh leaving her lips. They were trembling. Her entire body was trembling, even her hands as she cocooned yours in them. “I was annoyed because I thought you liked Zoro. Because—I like you too.”

You swallowed, surprise forcing your jaw to fall slack as you met her gaze. “Really?” you whispered. Nami nodded; she coaxed soft circles into the skin of your hands, a supportive smile edging up her lips.

“I really thought you liked someone else, kitten, I would’ve said something before if—” Nami let out another gentle laugh. “If I knew. It wasn’t until you told me about the crush did I realize. I got a little… too overprotective, and then… well, it wasn’t very platonic at that point.” She ducked her head, hiding her smile, but you slipped one of your hands out of her grasp to push it back up. “God, you’re too good for any of them.”

“I don’t want to talk about how the rest of them suck,” you murmured. “I want to talk about how amazing you are. Oh—and—” You dug your hand in your pocket, pulling out the necklace. “This reminded me of you. I got it for you.”

“Kitten,” Nami breathed, as you unclasped the necklace and carefully put it on her. It swung around her neck before you adjusted it, golden yellow bright against the white of her pale skin. The opal glittered, catching the moonlight that’d steadily glowed brighter from behind you. “Thank you. It’s still a waste of money though.”

“Not for you,” you said, grabbing her hands to squeeze her fingers. “Never for you.” You took in a nervous breath, your chest tightening inside—but it wasn’t all bitter and sour, nothing like the taste of panic.

Nami met you in the middle when you finally leaned up to kiss her, your hand slipping up the side of her face, fingers curling in her orange hair. She smiled when she kissed, soft and carefree for once, that serious facade she always took on melting away in the moment. She kissed softly; tenderly; like the moon shining gentle waves on the East Blue below or the sun in the hazy morning sky casting light across the world.

There were footsteps approaching from behind Nami. You opened your eyes, tilting your gaze up to see Zoro staring down at you both. Nami broke apart from you, glancing over her shoulder. None of you said anything.

“Okay,” Zoro decided, and then walked off. You barely managed to stifle your giggles until he was out of earshot.

“God, he’s such a loser,” Nami said, and then kissed you again.

#opla nami #one piece live action #one piece netflix #opla #cat burglar nami x reader #opla nami x reader #reader insert #x reader #nami x reader #nami x you #opla fanfiction #opla fanfic #one piece live action x you #one piece live action x reader #kiki writes!

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year ago

Text

To Hunt a Silver Stag (III)

AU MASTERLIST || THE FINAL PART

PAIRING: Knight!Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x F!Fae Princess!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 3.9k

WARNINGS: Talks of war, death, blood, gore, wounds, stitches, injuries, etc.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You struggle under the weight of the knight. So unused are you to have to travel as a regular, magic-less, being, that you feel your muscles tighten; coil. Aches form in places that have not had them since you were a small child…if an immortal being can even be considered a child, really.

You’d been walking for hours, and your hand was bright with the pain of iron affliction.

“Stag,” Gaz utters, eyes half-closed tight and his breath heaving. “You’re hurting yourself, Love.”

“I have it under control,” you level. Your lungs burn inside of your chest. “We have to keep moving to the border.”

“We can’t get there if you,” his voice cuts as he grits his teeth, though it comes back a moment later. “If you can’t walk.”

You slow, his arm over your shoulders heavy as you look over at him gradually. Sweat dribbles off of your nose, silver eyes dull and blurry. Your head is still light.

You’d both left the cliff-face cave with a long trail of blood leading behind—thankfully, the earth had been sympathetic to your cause. Without any magic to help, it had taken it upon itself to shatter the ground, erasing any trace along with your footprints. But even those forces can’t will the strength back into your body.

You stare into Gaz’s clenched face, his body shaking with all of his armor left behind except his cape, which hangs off of him to try and keep his bandages protected from dirt and dust.

Your expression goes grim.

If you wouldn’t stop for yourself…then you suppose you would have to stop for him.

“Alright,” you whisper, and your quivering feet stop. With a slow and easy motion, you slip out from under Gaz’s arm and grasp him carefully, letting his legs bend until he’s to the ground—back resting against a nearby rock.

“How are you feeling,” you ask, your lips already moving to his cheek. To give him a small sliver more.

Yet, before your flesh can move over his, a hand lightly grabs at your chin, stopping you. Freezing, you blink in surprise as Gaz tries a slow smirk.

“I’m flattered,” he chuckles weakly, nodding. “But you need to keep your strength. I can take it.”

You frown, only pulling back when his grip lowers back to his lap and he takes in a long inhalation, head leaning to connect to the stone behind him.

Lysander flutters over, resting atop the object as you watch him silently. Thinking.

Gaz won’t make it at this pace—those wounds all needed proper care, and even as experienced as you were, there’s little you can do without the proper tools.

You’d discarded your crown back near the cave, and while bone could be used as a needle in times of need, it would do the man more harm than good if you decided to take it up again. It had hurt something in you to leave it behind.

“You hand.” You blink, looking back to the knight after you register his words.

“Excuse me?”

Gaz smiles, head shifting on the rock as his chest rises and falls under his soiled tunic. Those browns of his are something of value to you, and your face heats even looking into them anymore. You glance away for a moment as he repeats himself.

“Let me see your hand, then. Haven't forgotten about it.” You sigh, fingers flinching.

Moving out your limb, you give it to him as his hands grasp your flesh, picking at his cape bandage until you watch it slip away like a leaf. The fabric is stiff with blood and puss, and under, burst blisters show themselves to air.

Your lips thin tightly at the sight, disgust in your heart before a hiss escapes you.

Gaz grimaces, sitting up a bit straighter. His fingers slide up your wrist, taking it softly and tilting your hand into the light. Looking, studying, he grunts and sends you a glance.

“I…I don’t know how to treat this.”

“You can’t,” you ease out, licking your lips at the knowledge.

Gaz’s brows furrow, a breeze going through the trees, ruffling your tattered dress.

“What’s that mean? Don’t tell me there’s no way to treat it. There’s freshwater—natural salves, I can make one if I can find—”

“Gaz,” you speak softly, tilting your head at him with a sad smile. The knight’s speech trails, his eyes hard on your face in an honest stubbornness. It nearly makes you chuckle as he squeezes your flesh as if trying to convince you of his skill.

“I have no doubt your understanding of medicinal herbs is vast,” you tilt your head. “But this is not a wound that even time can heal. The boils may fade, but the pain never will. It is a wound of iron. None of the Fae can fix such things.”

“Why in the bloody hell not,” he grunts, and this time you do chuckle. Gaz’s face becomes confused. “I’m not finding this all that funny, Stag.”

“No,” you sigh. “No, you’re not.”

Your eyes stare at him, those silvers glinting in the light of morning. He glares back, determined but losing that bead of understanding that he had been holding onto. Magic, the mortal man, was not used to. You explain the best you can, his hand still holding yours as if made of the finest glass ever melted.

“It’s just how we were made, Knight. Just as you were branded to die,” your heart seizes, “we were made to fear iron. It is one thing I will never have the privilege of knowing the answer to.”

Gaz’s face tightens, his body shifting until a prick of pain forces him to stop.

“It was my choice,” you try to relieve the burden.

“And a damn stupid one,” your eyes blink in shock.

A moment passes before your bell-like laughter echoes over the trees. The knight’s form stills to near statue-like motion as you do, gazing at your hand as the sound moves like starlight and caresses with its windish fingers.

“What is the word?” Your free hand covers your mouth, oblivious to Gaz’s heating cheeks and how his heart soars. “Lionhearted?”

“I’d move more to foolish,” he grumbles, rolling his shoulders. But you had entranced him yet again. Everything about you was…strange. New.

Beautiful.

“Perhaps I was borrowing some of that from you, then, Knight,” you watch Gaz rip a strip off his cape once more. He moves to tie a new bandage, doing it gently as your eyes are as malleable as water. “It is more of a human trait than Fae.”

A glance, paired with a layered smirk. “Rubbing off on you?”

“Seems it,” you slide a calm look his way, fingers flinching when his knot goes too tight.

He mutters a small apology, face worried before he hesitantly lets you go.

Suddenly, your lips are near his cheek, pressing a delicate kiss. But there’s no magic in it—no power surge that enters his muscles. Just a whisper of passion before it’s gone with an utterance of, “My thanks, Kindly Knight.”

Gaz is left breathless as you stand up, feet shifting away a few paces and looking around. He has to blink away the haze behind his mind and clear his throat before he can speak beyond a heavy stutter.

“It’s…it’s no problem.”

You hum, looking around in a slow circle, your gold belt is still here, resting just under the broken straps of your corset. The gold glints for a moment, and just as Lysander flutters off with little more than a bird-ish call to stay near, you sigh and shake your head.

“We have to move soon,” you say. Gaz agrees, ever the strategic mind.

“There’ll be hunting parties until we’re caught,” he huffs a chuckle. “While I can put in my trust that you’ll be okay, I, on the other hand…”

Brown eyes look down, narrowing at the carnage of his body. His bandages are heavy with blood, and everything has a buzzing sheen of numbness to the flesh.

“Well, let's just say that my odds aren’t looking that nice, yeah?”

“I’m not leaving you here,” you pass a firm sweep of your even gaze to him. “You’ve far earned my loyalty, Gaz, and I will not falter in my steadfastness in return.”

Under his breath, he grunts out a teasing, “Was hoping you’d say that.”

Without another word, your arm is once more slipping his waist—Gaz’s long limb going over your shoulder to rest before you help push himself up.

The man strangles down a sharp cry, agony ricocheting through every nerve and splintering out like bark.

“Fuck,” he hisses, clenching his teeth.

You stare from the side of your eye worriedly, pausing.

“It’s okay,” Gaz grumbles, reassuring you. He blinks for a moment, clearing out the black dots. “But wait a second for me.”

“Of course,” you begin but are cut off by the knight's arm moving away from you. A hand is placed on your shoulder, and your body is gently turned to the side. Gaz struggles on his feet for a moment, but he pauses until the abyss at the sides of his vision is gone.

“Let me…” Fingers dance over your corset straps, moving to tie the laces as best he can. “Tell me when it’s good, then, will you, Love?”

Again with that nickname—but even you can admit that there was an intoxicating electricity to your skin now. A deadly heat.

You stare ahead blankly as shaky fingers glide over the fabric, you hear the pulse of a fluttering heart that reminds you of a grand war horse; strong and firm. Gaz takes a deep breath through his nose, licking his lips slowly as he takes up the items and begins pulling lightly.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, “it might end up being a bit loose. I have to leave the bottom loops open.”

Your gut swirls, moving to gaze over your shoulder with glimmering eyes. Gaz pointedly doesn’t meet it, fixing the stance of his feet. You stare, the fabric around your chest and back conforming as the corset is tightened to a comfortable degree, blinking softly as Lysander returns across the way.

“There,” Gaz nods, glancing into your unblinking eyes before he moves away like it burns to do so. “Is it too tight—?”

Your head snaps to the far right, and a shadow of a large body pushes through the bush. Swiftly moving in front of the knight, you blink through the rose-layered haze in your brain, startled. But what startled you even more was how Gaz tried to push you behind him at the exact same time you did to him.

Eyes meeting, you both stare, wide, before a body cusps the small patch of open grass.

All at once, every line of tension leaves in a calm exhale. A large smile peels your lips. Another laugh.

Gaz’s jaw drops.

“Gwendoline,” you move forward swiftly, hand outstretched to land on close-cropped white fur. You chuckle, moving to firmly push your forehead into the animal’s—careful of the horn protruding.

A delicate snort enters your ears.

Peeling back, a small and slender head shifts to show purple eyes to you; hooves move over the ground and a long tail with a line of flowing fur down the center whispers over the grass.

A unicorn.

“How?” You breathlessly ask under your breath, heart pounding. Her head elegantly tilts, needle-sharp horn poking out. “All this way, My Dear?”

Gwendoline’s eyes glint, as if laughing. Of all the beasts you’d come to know, this one still surprised you. Your head moves to Lysander, but the bird only flaps over and settles on your shoulder, cooing.

You hum. “Clever little bird, are you?”

“Am I already dead or is that a fucking unicorn?” Gaz bluntly asks, motioning weakly with a single hand as you bring the mythical beast over to him and ask her to bend down.

Hands grasp him, moving him forward swiftly to the awaiting beast as his feet skid for a moment. Your sly form comes into view in the side of his eye.

“Did you think I was lying when I said I knew one? Many I consider my friends, but none have I known longer than Gwendoline.”

Gaz’s lips open and close, blinking quickly as he’s forced to get on the thing, his injured body pushed over the kneeling side—in fact, he was a bit afraid he’d break the animal’s back, truth be told. It seemed so…delicate.

But as his hands had to settle themselves into the unicorn’s mane to keep steady, Gwendoline rising on sure legs, the knight was instantly proven wrong. Delicate looking, yes, but this best could break down stone with one swift kick. It had no trouble moving forward as you settled at her side, hand resting on her shoulder.

Your silver eyes stare at Gaz as he pants not from pain but from boyish wonder.

Smiling widely, you giggle at him. At his wide-open face and his honest smirk. It’s a magical thing.

“Bloody fucking hell.”

—

The border to your kingdom comes without a fight, and when the first river is crossed, and the bottom of your dress soaked by it, you feel the veil shimmer at your arrival.

“Rightly,” you begin as you set your feet to dry land, Gwendoline and Lysander listening in on your conversation. “I don’t believe I know what being here will do to you—this is a sensitive place, you understand?”

“I won’t stay any longer than what I’m allowed—”

“I am allowing you,” you interrupt, looking over with a heavy heat on your face. You stare at him, riding atop a unicorn with such grievous wounds he’d gotten defending you.

Gaz blinks before nodding slowly, smiling. “Then I’ll stay as long as you want me to.”

The air here is different; everything is lighter. The grass is greener—the sky more blue. It sings.

“Do you not have family to return to,” your eyes narrow. Gwendoline knows the path—you need not guide her. “Loved ones?”

“Ah,” Gaz shrugs the best he’s able, nearly commenting on the unicorn’s perfectly smooth stride. If he were on a regular horse, his wounds would be burning by now. The man moves his eyes from you to the ground for a moment. “I don’t think they’ll be roaring to have me back now.”

Your face thins.

“I…” you breathe out a slow breath. Emotions. Such fickle things. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” is the easy and swift answer. “I made my choice—and I’d do it again, as well. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t, yeah?”

Soft eyes move your way, and you meet them, a gentle smile peeling your lips.

“I knew when I gazed upon you in that Hall that you were strange, Knight,” your words move between the both of you, hovering in the air. “You carry yourself with something long lost. I can no longer name it, myself.”

Gaz’s head tilts. A humored smirk, but his brows are quizzically raised. “What does that mean?”

You only stare, Lysander on your shoulder and your expressions hidden to all but the old voices of the wind, who’ve known you far longer than all else. Your throat hums, and you turn back to the forest ahead of you, safely home. Gwendoline’s eyes watch you closely from beside your face, glinting their periwinkle hue.

“Alright, then,�� the man sighs, but a large smile moves across his face. A low chuckle. Hell, his heart was even pattering like a bird’s wings.

“When we get to my father’s court, I ask that you let me do the talking,” you speak some minute into the walk, your strength returning the longer you live here with the magic in the very fabric of the sky. It seeps back into you, swelling like a wave. “You’ll be received by the best healers we have, but my father will need answers from the both of us before long. He is a thorough Fae, even by my peoples’ standards.”

Gaz grimaces as his stitched wounds pull as he shifts his upper body. A hand settles on his leg, keeping it lightly grasped before his face returns to a tempered calm.

“Right,” he utters, fatigued. He glances at your hand and clears his throat softly.

“Keep your head high,” you utter. “You have my word, Gaz, and I believe that it will account for much. You are under my protection now.”

Your fingers travel the side of his breachers, peeling back the torn fabric to stare at the bandages you’d wrapped. It was bloody, but it would last until you got to the castle. You miss the way the man’s breath gets caught in his throat.

“I think you’ll like it here,” you whisper, your silver eyes shifting upwards to meet brown—Gaz watches with barely hidden reverence. A great awe that extends to his bones. “You’re…different.”

That's all you can call him.

He huffs, tilting his head. “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

—

The healers had gotten him squared away in no time at all, and now, days later, he had his own quarters in the castle—an esteemed guest of your father’s. The mortal knight who defended his daughter’s honor with all the strength of a dragon, even when he didn’t need to.

Your wound had healed as best it could, but, like most nights, you were up because of it—walking the halls and rubbing at the skin of your palm. What you had told Gaz had been true; the blisters and the throbbing blood had ceased, but the pain underneath remained. A brand of sorts. Burned into your soul.

The both of you were such self-destructive creatures. If anyone would have commented on it, they’d say you were meant to be together.

Two sides of the same coin.

Your unadorned head swivels to the wide open windows of the corridor—sheer fabric curtains of unicorn hairs whispering beside you. There were no fires here, only the illumination of the moon and the stars. The courtyard below is filled with merriment that will move long into the coming weeks. Laughter and warm voices. Dancing.

Their princess was back, after all. The King of the mortals was dead. It was a time of celebration.

You smile to yourself, rubbing your thumb into your palm as you continue to walk on, flowing dress dragging behind you. When you hear the firm heartbeat following after, you entertain him for a while, a tiny smile stuck to your face.

“You’re getting better,” you call behind you, not turning around.

Before long, a shadow moves up beside your form with a smirk and a heavy chuckle. “Really?”

“No,” you hum and hear the honest laugh.

“Hell,” Gaz utters. “Got my hopes up.” You shake your head lightly, side-eyeing the man. His soul was more Fae than mortal now—the food and drink were in his veins, and that alone made people…less than they were before. Not only that, but his tunic and pants as well; Fae made.

You both walk in silence for a time, the man’s eyes still trying to take it all in even since the days he’d been here; it was incredible.

But then he notices your hand.

Brows furrowing, he gently takes you by the arm and stops you as you slow, glancing over. Gaz frowns, and just as he did in the forest, he takes your hand and tilts it to him.

His hands are warm.

“Can I really not do anything?” You smile.

“No, Gaz, you cannot.” He grumbles, grimacing, and it makes you chuckle at him.

“Come,” you whisper, shifting the limb to grasp his own—the man’s eyes blinking quickly. “I have something I want to show you.”

“Alright,” he says, quietly, a layer of worship slipping between the word and his low breath, staring at the back of your head as you lead him wherever you see fit. He wondered if anyone was really led away from the battlefields by Fae—he wondered if they’d just been as enchanted as he had become, by men and women of pointed ears and unnatural eyes. Flowing clothes and soft voices.

They’d gone willingly. They had to have—they’d snuck off and now dance in the courtyards below; they live in the woods, near the rivers. Learning the words of birds and beasts, lying in the sun, and sleeping under stars.

Being taken not by corruption of a name…but by love.

Gaz’s eyes glint as your hand stays gently in his, a grin on his lips as the moonlight casts shadows over his face. He squeezes your hand and tries to will away the pain that lives under your flesh with his own.

Your face heats a foreign fire, one that is becoming more and more common the longer you live around this man.

You lead him into a courtyard similar to the one from Michael’s castle, yet, at the same time, so very different.

Phoenixes sit in trees of silver and gold. Unicorns graze on grass greener than anything ever seen across the border. In the air, illuminated wisps looking like stars float to shine light over bushes that drop gems like water droplets into woven baskets. Much like the ones from your crown—the stones that Gaz had given back to you from his pouch; sighting how you had led him to your hiding place without even knowing it.

Perhaps that was when you knew you would love him for all of eternity.

“Sit with me, Gaz,” you breathily say, turning and pulling him closer, noses nearly brushing while walking backward. Feet moving through long grass as if a phantom.

Your eyes pierce him, making him lean forward. He shutters, noses brushing.

“Kyle,” he whispers, only to you. The word burns from the power that surges from that monumental confession. “Kyle Garrick. Say it,” your stare, “please.”

“Kyle,” the man wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close. His very soul lights inside his ribcage, and his body quivers. His lips brush against yours.

“You’re setting me on fire, and I don’t want to stop it.” Your smile dances, your heart rampages. An old creature, you are—an immortal thing.

But as his lips press to yours, and you breathe down every ounce of loyalty he offers as his hands skate your dress, you would give it all up in an instant.

Just as he had for you.

You haven’t told him, but when a Fae loves someone, really loves someone…that’s the only person they’ll ever love for the rest of time immemorial. Or at least until one of them dies. After that, if the Fae is left behind, they wither. They Fade. A broken heart, everyone says.

Your people are delicate things when it comes to emotions. Everything is heightened. Your soul already sings for him—your heart soars when he speaks; when he looks at you. It was still the beginning, after all, but this man was special. He had a mind that would be remembered well after his years.

He’d damned you from the moment you’d seen him under that stained-glass window. A Saint and a Stag.

What is love, except eternal damnation and memories stuck like gold thread into skin?

—

Far off into the world, sitting near that dark and shadowed cave, a deer antler crown sits motionless in the grass. It has no adornments—no gold thread or gems of starlight. No grand wealth to it.

Just antler and the hint of magic laid in deep like the dirt of the earth.

Flowers grow in a small patch around a single broken tine.

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jellyskink · 1 month ago

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Every little thing that Ford did, that most would find unusual or concerning, Stan couldn't help but wonder what was going on in his head. Every time, Ford would immediately sit on the floor instead of the couch when they watched movies. Every time Stan would wake up to a loud crash in the middle of the night only to see his brother panicking over A broken lamp or 3. Every time he had to hold his hair up while his brother threw up because he ate to fast or to much. He knew his brother was deeply traumatized, but he didn't know how deep or how most of it was caused. Part of him didn't want to know, but he wanted be there for his brother so he always asked Every time they spoke to see if Ford was willing to talk about it. Spoiler he never did, besides trying to justify it by claiming oh his muse did it cause he did something bad, he rarely elaborated any Further despite the constant begging. But at the end of the day if Ford wanted to share then he would.

With another mouth to feed, (well one that Stan wanted to make sure had a fully nutritious meal 3 times a day. Instead of Stan's usual coffee in the morning, sandwich at lunch and a TV dinner for Dinner.) Stan ran out of food quickly so a stop at the grocery store was a must. He got up early, so the stores would be pretty empty, and grabbed his brother and headed out for the store.

Ford was a bit nervous to be going. His concerns were rooted in fear of a crowded store. Stan assured him, it will be okay. It's pretty dead in the morning, and if it made him feel any better Ford could pick out any snack he wants. That got him excited, for the rest of the way there Ford contemplated on whether he should get some jelly beans, or a pack of cheddar moths, maybe Stan could let him get bubble gum icecream! Stan Could only chuckle at that level of excitement.

Inside the store Ford followed Stan around as he picked out the groceries, occasionally He would ask Ford for his opinion on certain items, Stan knew Ford didn't care what Stan picked he ate every thing, Stan once saw him eat a raw egg whole, shell and all saying he liked the crunch and the taste of blood from where the shells sliced his mouth. But still he wanted Ford's opinion. He wanted Ford to have some control of his life one cereal flavor at a time. Stan turned around, about to ask if he wanted Unlucky Leprechaun, or Cocoa-O's, when he noticed his brother Was gone. He dropped both boxes on the floor and started to run through the store to find him.

Fortunately he found him the next aisle over, Stan figured he must have gotten excited to see the Calcium-Bones on the end cap displaying a big sale sign. “Great” he huffed, he found himself in the pet aisle. And even more “great” is that he found Ford looking at big display of new chew toys. The new chew toys “Celebrating” the 25th anniversary of Weirdmageddon. Fuck.

“Hey Ford whatcha got there?”

“Look Stanley. Isn't this great! They have my muse here, and look here's me! Oh and here's Pyronica she's great oh and Teeth he's not great, oh and Eight-ball, and…”

“Hey that's great, buddy.” he said softly, Keep calm Stan keep calm don't get mad focus on breathing. I don't think he realizes that they are chew toys, meant to be destroyed by some sick owner's dog to terrorize.

“Stanley, is it alright If I get these instead of my treat? Please, just look at My Muse isn't he wonderful.” Ford just looked so happy, he couldn't say no, but he had too for Ford's own good, now how to soften the blow?

“Wow Ford, I would love too but you know money is pretty tight right now and with the twins birthday coming up I don't think now would be the best time, but I promise I'll sell something big soon and the next time where here you can pick one up. How's that sound?” Yeah that will give me plenty of time to break in and burn them all to a crisp.

“Oh. Stanley, I'm sorry… I feel terrible. Here you are trying to get the essentials. I didn't realize money was this tight. I swear I'll do what I can to help pull my weight. I think I saw a flyer for a dog show in town for tomorrow, the prize is 500 dollars. You can sign me up. This time, I'll win, I have been getting better at the tunnels, and I learned that if I dislocate my shoulders, I can squeeze through. That and since that show off Calamari is’t here, so I'll finally be the top pet around here.”

“Ford I'm not signing you up for a dog show, and you pull your weight just fine you send me all of that weirdness crap, and I am the man people come to, to buy it! My finances are none of your concern.”

“Okay…”

“Great, let's get going before the store gets more crowded.”

“You can start to check out. I'll be there in a minute. I just want to say goodbye.”

“Alright just a few more minutes”

Honestly the fact Ford didn't have a breakdown when stan said no was amazing in its own right. But Stan couldn't help shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen. When they returned home Ford shut him self in the guest room. Stan figured it was because he need to charge his socal battery. It was around lunch when Stan checked in on Ford. This surprise there was talking behind the door. He carefully cracked open the door and peaked Inside. Ford was on the floor playing with the dog toys from earlier.

“Ford! If you don't stop talking about your stupid moth collection, I'm going to give you wings and pin you up to the wall for decoration.” Ford said in a high pitch voice his raspy voice could manage. Ford held the yellow triangle toy above the ground so it could “float” around the mini version of himself.

“I'm sorry, My Muse. I'll stop talking about the moths. Did you want to hear about how my appointment went? Dr. Oleander said…”

“Why the hell would I want to hear about that. Be a good boy and shut up.”

“I’m sorry my muse, I'll be quiet. I'll be a good…”

“I TOLD YOU TO SHUT THE FUCK UP! Do you want me to rip out your vocal cords again?” Ford then took the mini Ford and slammed it on the floor and the loud squeak that came from it Stan knew he had to step in.

“Hey Ford, I'm going to make lunch. Did you want chicken nug…. Whatcha got there?” Stan said as if he didn't spend the last few minutes watching Ford. “Are those the “toys” from earlier. Stanford, did you take them?”

Ford sunk lower to the floor, tears stared to fall, “I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Stan I….I just really wanted them I…I just took these two, I swear, and I…. I gave them a squirrel I found as a trade. Please, I'm so sorry.”

“Stanford it's okay… Just breath i ain't mad about the stealing. Trust me i’ve been known to shoplift a thing or two in my day (or this morning, foods getting way to expensive) I'm just surprised That's all I thought we agreed that I'll buy them for you later that's all.”

“I know I just miss my muse so much. And playing with These help a bit.”

Hummm, that gave Stan an idea if Ford wouldn't listen to him about Cipher being a jerk wad. Maybe he would listen to the toys

“Well is it ok if I played with you?”

“Really?!”

“Yeah sure just gimme one.”

Ford gave Stan Mini Ford, and Stan looked over the toy for a dog toy it was pretty well made, and the Desiner even got all the bows and triangles right. “Hello my names Stanford, and I love jellybeans, moths, and doing research to help protect the world.”

Ford chuckled “Stanley! Fine.” He gave his Mini Muse a little hug and then went to play with Stan “Hiya smart guy! It looks like you could use a friend. you're in luck. I'm looking for a new pal. And i want to be buddies with the smart guy who was able to figure out who summoned me. Put er there, the names Bill Cipher.”

Wait what? That caught Stan off guard Ford never called Bill by his Actual name in favor of calling him his Muse. Sure he Would replace the word God with the word Bill but he would never invoke his full name like that especially when Ford was playing so calmly. Let's see where this is going. Stan took the doll and attempted to shake bills hand. “Hi Bill, do you like research. I'm in this town to do science stuff. Can you help me?”

“Sure pal! I'll help, and in exchange, you can help me with a little project i've been working on.”

“Uh… Shure. What's the project” Is Ford retelling a memory? He hates talking about the past but why is he reliving them now with the toys? What if he went against the script how would Ford react?

“Oh just a simple Trans-universal Poly-dimensional meta vortex. Should be a piece of cake with your smarts and my guidance.”

“No thank you ”

Ford looked at Stanley and glared into his eyes “that's not how it happened. Play this right.” He switched back to his Attempted Bill voice “you sure about that.”

“ OK fine I'll build your portal.”

“Fantastic!”

They played like that for a bit but Ford grew annoyed at how Stan was playing, so Stan asked if Ford could show him how to play. So now Ford was back to playing two roles well three, his research partner, (played by a discarded sock and was also controlled by Ford) mini Ford built the portal mini bill gave positive guidance. If this is what happened all those years ago then what happened? He didn't have to wait long for the answer something went wrong his research partner saw sorting he shouldn't have. And when mini Ford started to express concerns about the portal Bill grew nastier. Stan saw the Horrors of what his brother went Through through The dolls. And he saw the real Ford just talk about it as if he was just narrating a story.

Stan had enough when his brother was going into graphic detail of being chained up, starved, dehydrated, whipped, cut, sleep deprived, and thay were still only on year two of this torture. Stan did the math once and he estimated ford went through this for five years.

“Hey Ford, I didn't realize. The time we've been playing here for 2 hours, i have an important meeting I have to go to.” Please stop this Ford. I don't think I can handle one more second of this. Is this why you never tell people what happened. Do you just bottle everything up so you don't scare people with what you've been through. Cause obviously you do remember.

“WHATS WRONG STAN2” wait Ford's bill impression couldn't have improved that much in 5 seconds stan looked at Fords eyes and to his dismay they were yellow. WHATS'S WRONG YOUR NOT LIKING THE SHOW?”

“Can it let him go. I'm not in the mood for your BS.”

“AWW SO SENSITIVE ANYWAY FORDSY HASN'T BEEN SLEEPING WELL SO MY MESSAGES HAVEN'T BEEN GOING THROUGH. TELL THIS SAD SACK VACATION IS OVER AND HE HAS 72 HOURS TO BE AT THE FEARAMID OR ELSE.”

“Fuck you, if you weren't in my brother right now. I would punch you into the next dimension.”

“I WOULD LOVE TO SEE YOU TRY. JUST TELL HIM OR ELSE THOSE LITTLE SCEENS HE WAS DOING WILL HAPPEN AGAIN FOR HIM RUNNING AWAY YOU GOT THAT?”

That got Stan to quiet down he knew that was a promise and not a threat “Alright Fine”

“SEE AND PEOPLE CALL YOU THE DUMB CLONE HAVE FUN AND REMEMBER 72 HOURS” before Cipher left Fords body he threw mini Ford against the wall where it landed on the guest bed.

“Huh…” Ford said while waking up from his possession. He looked around him and started to panic slightly. He caught stans eyes “Stanley do you see mini me? He should be here.”

“Oh, yeah I think he's over here.” Stan picked him up from the bed. “he uh… was tired I put him down for a nap.”

“Oh Stan your heart is in the right place, but you're just being silly. Mini Ford doesn't sleep on a bed. He sleeps on the floor on a dog bed. Hehe.”

Stan sighed “Hey Ford, do you remember what we were just playing?”

“Sorry can't say I recall I didn't know you were in this room until I woke up. Why did something happen”

Stan's heart dropped “eh it was nothing but Bi…. I mean your muse...”

“My Muse was here! Does he miss me, I miss him. What did he say.”

“Yeah he… uh misses you too and wants you back home in 3 days.”

“Oh this is wonderful! I need to pack right away thank you so much for taking care of me while I'm here.”

“Hey any time. I'm going to see if there's a bus to the bubble that's leaving no later then tomorrow morning. Not going to lie it hurts to see you go.”

“Aw Stanley thank you so much your the best brother in the world. But don't worry about me My Muse takes such great care of me! But I'll be sad to leave you too.”

While Ford was in the guest room packing Stan bought a ticket back to the bubble for Ford. he Didn't want him to go. It had been so nice waking up in the morning knowing he's safe and that he had proper food, and was loved and taken care of. And not that fake crap Cipher gives him. While still on Boogle Stan thought of an idea "come on come on you have to have a number listed…. Bingo. “ the website of one Dr. Irene Oleander was displayed on the monitor. This was the Doc that Ford talked about surely would know if something like this happened to Ford before. He scrolled down to a phone number and jotted it down on some scrap paper maybe she had some information on his brother he'll have to give her a call in the morning.

Hey, angst anon here, and I have brought you more angst. Anyway, enjoy this play based therapy sessions where Ford just zones out and narrates things he has no idea hes doing that to begin with and i did leave the ending open incase I wanted to do a second part of an awkward phone call between Stan and the doc I think that might be fun

Awwww, this is so cute!! It's also the closest thing my boy is getting to therapy for a while 💔

(This isn't the first time Ford has lit something on fire inside Stan's condo)

#domesticated ford #gravity falls #ford pines #cartoon #gravity falls au #stanford pines #sketch #fanart #my art #fan fiction #ask fiction #teeth

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