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sugarcoatedstarkey · 1 year ago

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Best Friends - part 2

Pairings - Rafe Cameron x bestfriend!reader

Summary - Rafe wants to be there for you.

Warnings - Domestic Violence and mention of sexual assault, language. 18+

If you missed part one

Rafe had spent all night tossing and turning, he checked on you every hour. Making sure you were still tucked up in the spare bedroom, you were.

It got to 4am and he couldn’t stay in bed, Lola hadn’t moved an inch. She lay on her stomach, head buried into the pillow. Rafe felt guilt in his stomach as he pulled himself out of the bed and walked across the hall to yours.

The last five times he checked on you, you had been fast asleep cuddled into the duvet. This time he noticed your balled fists around the sheets, your body thrashing.

“I’m sorry! Please Coop, I’m sorry!” You cried out, he rushed towards you. Cradling your head between the palms of his hands, tears leaked from your closed lids.

“Y/n! Hey, wake up!” He whispered, tapping the side of your cheek softly. This seemed to work as your eyes sprung open, you coward away from Rafe. Your back hitting the headboard. “It’s just me, Rafe”.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” You questioned, pulling the sheet up against your chest. He shook his head and moved to sit next to you, you moved the blanket to cover his legs. “I’ve been checking on you every few hours, would have preferred if you stayed in my room” he chuckled, pulling you into his chest. He missed you, missed your friendship, your hugs, your laugh.

“I couldn’t do that to Lola, that would cause way too many problems” you smiled, you moved your body back down the bed and laid your head upon the pillow.

“She wouldn’t have minded” Rafe tries to reassure you, but you knew girls like Lola. They didn’t share their boyfriends, especially not to some old best friend.

“Can I hold you?” He questions, you find yourself nodding. He wraps his arms around you, pulling your back against his chest. You can’t help the smile that creeps onto your lips.

Silence falls between the two of you and the next thing you remember is the sun shining in. “Rafe!” Lola yells, her eyes are wide as she stares at the sight in front of her.

Her boyfriend cuddled up against another woman, you can tell she’s angry. Her cheeks burn red, he is quick to jump up and rush over to her.

He escorts her out of the bedroom, mouthing ‘sorry’ before he closes the door. You knew you should have asked him to leave, you shouldn’t have let him hold you like old times.

He didn’t have a girlfriend back then, no one to make jealous when the two of you acted like a couple.

You quickly jumped out of bed, making the bed as best you could. Grabbing your handbag and phone, you had over 20+ missed calls from Cooper.

You snuck out of Tanny Hill before anyone could see you, you didn’t want to be a burden anymore. Walking about 2km you were finally at your front gates, you pressed the intercom and waited to be let in.

You busied yourself with making something to eat, having a shower and taking a quick nap.

You were awoken to the doorbell going mental, panic rose in your chest. Cooper wouldn’t show up at your house surely, he’s not stupid is he? Your sure he’d wait until you answered his calls before resorting to banging down your door.

You rushed down the stairs, Rafe’s panic filled eyes met yours. Within seconds the panic turns to anger and he’s mouthing for you to open the door. Jiggling the doorknob roughly.

“Why would you leave without telling me?! I was so worried! I thought you’d gone back to Cooper” he shouted, grabbing you by the biceps. You flinched slightly, staring up at him with big eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to be a burden” you cried, he looked down at you and quickly pulled you in a hug.

His scent was suffocating, your nails digging into his back and you squeezed him tightly,”you are not a burden”.

“Your girlfriend was very mad this morning, I don’t want to come between that” you whisper into his chest, his heart thumping harshly. “She’ll get over it” he ignores the look you give him and pulls away from your hug.

“Is anyone home? I don’t feel comfortable you being home alone.” He questions, he follows you through to the kitchen where you grab the two of you some water.

“Rafe, it’s fine. This isn’t my first rodeo, Cooper doesn’t come back until I answer his calls. And I’m not going to answer them” you state, staring down at your phone. It hadn’t rung once in the past 4 hours, you were sure Cooper had given up.

“Even so, I’m going to stay here with you” “oh no, you can’t do that! You can’t leave Lola at your family's house”.

He chooses to ignore and walks past you, walking towards the living area at the back of the house. Scowling you follow after him, checking back that the door was locked.

He had made himself comfortable on the couch, patting the spot next to him. You chose to sit at the end of the couch, bringing your legs up to your chest and wrapping your arms around them. “Should we watch a movie?” You questioned, ignoring the confused look on Rafe’s face. He nods and grabs the remote.

“What do you want to watch?” He questions, flipping through Netflix. You shrugged and stared at the screen, unsure why you felt so strange around him, he was your best friend, why was your mind running a million miles an hour right now.

“Okay, I’ll pick” he chooses exmas, a Christmas comedy. He knew this would cheer you up, you loved Christmas movies especially ones like this,

As the movie went on, he took glances over at you and noticed you hadn’t moved once. The next time he looked you had your eyes closed, head against the pillow. You looked so peaceful, he grabbed a blanket and covered your body.

He must have fallen asleep not long after, woken by your screams. His heart dropped to the pit of his stomach, eyes springing open and frantically looking for you only to find you thrashing around on the floor.

Y/n Dream

Reaching for the salt, you sprinkled a touch over your dinner. Cooper watched you in silence, palming the beer in his hand. He waited for you to take the first bite and finally spoke. “So I hear Rafe might be coming for Christmas this year” he states, he watches your reaction. Your eyes pop slightly and a smile creeps on your lips, you look up at him with happiness. “Really?” You question, hiding your mouth behind your hand.

“God y/n don’t talk with your mouth full” he chastised, sculling back the last of his warm beer. He scrapes the chair underneath him and stands to grab another, you try to quickly calculate how much he’s had to drink since being home.

“Why do you get so happy when his name is mentioned?” He questions as he walks back to the table, you're expecting him to slam the beer on the table but he doesn’t. He just stares at you with a blank expression.

“He’s my best friend, I miss him” you answer, this angers something within him. His brows pull together and his knuckles turn white around the bottle. “He doesn’t even fucking talk to you anymore” he shouted, the anger in his voice makes you jump and you drop your fork to the floor. This angers Cooper even more, the sound of metal clanging against his hardwood floor.

“Fuck sake y/n” he growls, he pushes himself back while simultaneously pushing the table into your stomach. You choke out a groan at the sharp pain of the wood hitting your ribs. “You need to fucking get over him, he doesn’t want you” he yells, he storming around the table towards you.

Grabbing the hair on the back of your head he pulls you to stand, tears prick at your eyelids as you squeeze them shut. He pulls you away from the kitchen and towards the bedroom, stumbling over your feet to catch up with him. His legs take long strides until you're thrown against the vanity table, knocking your perfume to the floor.

“Coop, I’m sorry!” You cried, edging away from him until you're hidden in the corner from him. He chuckles, running his hand through his hair. He begins to pace the floor, muttering under his breath until his head whips towards you.

“You know what, fuck this. Your fucking mine and I’ll show you who fucking owns you. Show you that Rafe Cameron isn’t going to love you the way I will” he bellows, before you can comprehend what he’s said he grabs you by the throat and throws you onto the bed. “Coop no, please don’t do this!” You cry, hitting at his chest in fear. Tears streaming down your face. This only angers him more and he slaps you across the face.

“You’ll fuck me any other day but the moment Rafes name is brought up you don’t want anything to do with me, fuck you bitch” he growls into your ear, biting down on your shoulder you let out a shriek of pain. His hands push up your sundress and pull your panties to the side.

“Please Coop!”

Present

“Y/n, hey wake up!”

You jump up from your position, taking in your surroundings. You were at home, Rafe was with you, there was no Cooper. “Hey you okay?” He questions, he pulls you into a hug and you squeeze onto his shoulders. Taking deep breaths until your heart was beating at a normal pace. “Sometimes I dream about Cooper” you whisper, Rafes fingers run through your hair. Pulling you closer to his chest. “You should speak to the police” he whispers, your blood running cold. You couldn’t do that, you couldn’t be known as the poor girl whose boyfriend beat her. It would be all over the news, people would gossip.

“No, I can’t. I just need to speak to someone, I need a professional” you whispered, you had never shied away from therapy. You used to go twice a week when your dad died but they told you that you no longer needed to attend, that you had healed and were ready to go on.

“Okay, I’ll sort that out” Rafe states, you nod your head and sit in silence for a few minutes until his phone starts ringing and doesn’t stop.

He grabs it from the table and you notice Lola’s name flashing on the screen. You pull away and wipe your eyes. “Go on answer it” you smiled, you stood up and exited the room to grab water but you find yourself standing at the cracked door and listening,

“No Lola, I have to be here for her”

“She’s my best friend! I told you what happened”

“What the fuck Lola? That’s so fucked up”

“No you know what, go back home. I’ll talk to you when you stop being a complete bitch”

You hear him hit the wall and you jump back, rushing towards the kitchen to fill a glass of water. You stare out the window until you hear him enter the room, he’s rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands but still manages to give you a smile.

“If you need to go, I understand”

“No y/n, I’m not going anywhere”

Taglist - @laylasbunbunny @h34rtsformilli @lydiasxxsworld @hallecarey1 @mountloverr @outerbankspov @cameronmedia @crunchy-leaves77 @vigilanteshitposting @pedrisgatorade @phoenixssugarbaby @rafemotherfuckingcameron @s-we-e-t-t-ea @rafesthroatbaby @alltoomay @f4ll-for-you @maybankslover @lovelornanonymity @gabys-gabs @aaronhotchswife (please let me know if you no longer want to be tagged or if you only want to be tagged in certain fics)

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vintagelasvegas · 7 months ago

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State Line Chevron & Bar, c. 1960s Whiskey Pete's restaurant, State Line (Primm), Nevada, 1983

When U.S. Route 91 was established in the 1920s along the Nevada-California border, "Whiskey Pete" McIntyre opened the State Line service station. McIntyre shot a man at the station, spent time in a sanatorium, and was buried on the property when he died. On his deathbed Pete made a request: "Bury me up on the hill, standing up facing the valley so I can see all those sons of bitches goin' by."

The property changed hands after McIntyre, and was still just a gas station when it was bought by gaming pioneer Ernest Primm with land totaling 750 acres sides of the state border. Primm filed water rights with the Bureau of Land Management and tended barley fields on the property for three years to satisfy the bureau's requirements for ownership.

Primm opened Whiskey Pete's in '77, a European castle-themed casino with a 12-room motel, and a coffee shop. A hotel tower was added in the 80s. The business passed on to son Gary, whose Primm Valley Resorts opened Primadonna and Buffalo Bill’s casinos in the 90s and renamed the area Primm.

The exact location of Whiskey Pete's burial had been lost. Workers grading a railroad track linking the resorts in '94 accidentally uncovered his coffin and remains.

"The tractor caught the edge of the box and the skull popped out," said the project manager Bruce Sedlacek. "There was Whiskey Pete staring at us."

Sedlacek said the coffin was about 80 percent intact and buried "at an angle" to the highway. The remains were moved to another burial site on the property.

Postcard & photo from Felix Lenox, Nevada Armored Transport.

Whiskey Pete McIntyre faces charge. Review-Journal, 3/26/31; Whiskey Pete Is Freed of Insanity Count. Review-Journal, 10/15/32; Whiskey Pete Can Stand in Grave in Peace. Review-Journal, 2/10/41; Strip City Between Here, Los Angeles is Proposed. Review-Journal, 3/31/54; R. Cornett. Duel in the desert just a family feud. Review-Journal, 9/16/84 p1; D. Palermo. Remains of Whiskey Pete Found. Review-Journal, 2/5/94; Primadonna Resorts, Inc. and subsidiaries. SEC.; Don Catlin. The Lottery Book: The Truth Behind the Numbers. Bonus Books, 2003; L. Benston. Primm's Lure: Freebies. Las Vegas Sun, 7/2/2009.

#1983 #State Line

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blu-ish · 10 months ago

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Ok so how do you think Shadow reacted when Sonic wasn’t in his arms when he arrived back in green hill

(Sonic prime)

... (Here's my idea as a sample mini-fic cuz I have no self-control.)

He couldn't help the panic that sunk deep within his broken heart. He failed. After everything, and he was still unable to save one of the only people who genuinely cared about him. That was Shadows most rational thought at the moment anyways. Almost tempted to let out a pitiful laugh at the irony of it all.

The hedgehog felt stupid, naive, and absolutely pathetic. Just like before.

What did he think would happen?

His grip loosened after he feels the almost ghostly appearance of the chaos emerald in his quills, the one he'd spent hours scouring for in the past. He doesn't even remember why...

The emerald looked way to much like his eyes, eye's he'd never get to see again.

As much as Shadow was willing to give into the pain, the urge to scream his lunges out, he remembered the mountain-- the prism.

What if...?

Hope burns like a small uncertain ember in his heart, one where the slightest breeze would extinguish it forever. Shadow races up the mountain, emerald in hand, unsure of what he might see--or what he wanted to see. Who he wished to see.

Ruby meets emerald green, and Shadow can breathe again.

...

Shadow tries to ignore the emotional whiplash he had just experienced. He really does. But, he can't help but occasionally stare- no, examine the cobalt hedgehog who sat next to him.

He's here.

He's alive.

His gloved hand twitches, unbeknownst to its owner, it slowly inches its way closer to the hero. Stopping at an invisible barrier, Shadow clears his throat.

"I hope you've at least tried to learn something from all of this."

Sonic's laughter almost makes the agent jump, almost.

"Yeah, yeah. No more smashing super colorful rocks for me, that's for sure!" Sonic played the events they both just endured like another adventure, just another day for Sonic T. Hedgehog. Or so he assumed the blue hedgehog was trying to do.

"I think that would be for the best. For everyone." Shadow concluded, gripping the grass below him a little harder then he meant too. An action that didn't go unnoticed by the hedgehog next to him.

"I'm really gonna miss everyone though, seems kinda silly after everything but..." Sonic sighed, "I'm really glad the guy I ended up getting stuck with was you, Shads."

Turning to face the hedgehog fully. Shadow scanned Sonics face for any indication of sarcasm, only to be met by the most brightest smile he'd ever seen. The warm hues of the sunset didn't help either.

He'd seen Sonic smile, the guy seemed to do it whenever he could. But now, this... felt different, personal. It didn't feel unpleasant either. That scared him, not like he'd ever admit that though.

"And what exactly does that mean?" The darker hedgehog ignored the flush that was most likely on his face right now. Narrowing his brow at the other. He could unpack what he was feeling, later.

"Does grumpy want a list?" Sonic replied playfully. Since when did he start to lean on his side? The blue hero continued, listing his reasons on his fingers.

"Not to mention you've saved my life, more than once, all in practically the same day."

"You saved mine as well, that makes us even." Shadow reminded. It was getting harder and harder to keep eye contact with Sonic. He crossed his arms in mild frustration at himself more than anything.

"We had a bonding moment! You cradled me in your arms, dude!" Sonic exclaimed, moving in even closer somehow to wrap an arm around the flustered hybird.

His mind going blank to find a proper response, he resorted to grumbling. Sonics laughter filled the air again, taking another breath out of Shadows in the process.

"Anyone would've done the same, your life was in immediate danger, I was simply the fastest mode of transportation, simple."

"But it wasn't just anyone Shads... it was you." Shadow had rarely heard the hedgehog sound so serious, but gentle at the same time. As if he was talking to a frightened woodland creature, one that was only mere moments away from fleeing.

He didn't know when they started looking at each others eyes, he also came to the conclusion that Sonics eyes--while similar, shined way brighter than his emerald.

It was Sonics turn to clear his throat, accompanied by a chuckle. "So, yeah... thanks."

What Sonic wasn't expecting was dark arms wrapping themselves around his back. Bringing him close to his rival. Or the soft patch of white fur to tickle so much.

"Don't get used to it.." Was all Shadow said, burying his face unapologetically into his peach shoulder.

"Wouldn't dream of it." Sonic smiled, hugging Shadow tight. The pair stayed like that until the night covered them in a blanket of stars.

It was good to be home.

#ask #sonic fanfic #IG??#HELP IM CRYING #sonadow #sonic prime #sonic #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #why tf did I write this at 11pm idk but I'm not complaining #Kinda sorta my idea #was gonna keep it REALISTIC but hey yeah the sonadow part of my brain took over #HOPE THIS IS ACCEPTABLE I DONT WRITE OFTEN #gonna call this a fanfic victory since I havent even finished my OTHER ONE LMAO #fav #also side note I am a brown eyed shadow believer but I do also think he's eyes turn their ruby color depending on the light--#because they are in fact THAT pretty I rest my case xD

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blackcherryvelvet0909 · 5 months ago

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Cherry Ink (Ace x GN!Reader)

“This is your fault.”

“Is not!” The redhead’s protests only feed the fuel of your boiling rage. “I told you you didn’t have to follow me. You got yourself into this!”

“I was trying to make sure you didn’t get your sorry ass in trouble again!”

“What’re you, my mom?” You desperately wanted to punch that grin clean off his face. “Are you going to make sure I eat my vegetables, too?”

You decide to ignore him. There was no sense in getting into a fistfight. Right now, your main focus is to figure out where you are. You look up at the green road sign hanging above you. It reads, “Scuttle Str.” Well, that gives you a starting point at least. You then turn to look at the bus schedule posted to the wall of the shaded canopy under the bench you stood in front of.

“There won’t be another bus for two hours.”

“That’s not so bad.” Ace leans against the pole holding up the street sign. “We just have to hang out here for a while. When the next bus comes, we’ll ask the driver to take us back to the…the, um…”

You sigh, trying your best to keep yourself calm. “Sebastian Square. By that time though, everyone will have already gone back to the resort. We’ll just have to go back there,” you narrow your gaze in his direction, “and hope that we don’t have a professor or two waiting to tear our heads off for disappearing.”

“Oh please,” Ace scoffs with a roll of his eye. “If they’re so worried, they’ll have the police find us. You worry too much.”

“Yeah, I do.” You cross your arms over your chest, continuing to glare at him. “I worry about us getting in serious trouble for running off. Wait, no, actually, you ran off! I was the one to go after you and try to drag you back to where we were supposed to be!”

“Hey, I didn’t know the bus would take us here! I thought it was the one that stopped by that huge mall we went to Wednesday.”

You throw your arms in the air in frustration. “Ace Trappola, everyone! Freshman at Night Raven College and he can’t even bother to read!”

“Since when was the last time you read a bus’ time table?!”

“When I want to make sure I’m getting on the right bus, dumbass!”

This is getting you nowhere. Despite the shade, the heat is sweltering and you’re sweating bullets. That little fan in the bus you and Ace disembarked a few minutes ago hadn’t helped at all. On top of that, you’re starving. Professor Crewel said at the beginning of the day that you would all stop to eat at a restaurant centered in Sebastian Square a little past twelve. You pull out your shitty little phone Crowley gave you last winter and, sure enough, it’s past twelve. That small breakfast you had to scarf down because your alarm didn’t go off that morning wasn’t going to hold you forever.

“Let’s just get out of this heat.” You tuck your phone back into the pocket of your shorts and look around the area. “There’s bound to be somewhere we can sit and hang out till the bus comes.”

Ace points to a building up a small hill. “What about there? It looks like some lil mom-and-pop place. I’m starving!”

He took the words right out of your mouth. You nod and, without another word, begin the short trek up to the thatched roof shack.

You thanked whatever higher being there might be that you had some madol on you. It wasn’t much - just enough to buy you a cold drink and a bag of chips. You stepped to the side to allow Ace to place his order; you sat at a small table in the corner of the eatery and waited for him to join you. Your stomach growled as you opened the bag of chips, raising the bag to your open mouth and tilting it up and pouring them in. You chewed the few salty crisps that fell in, sighing through your nose as you swallowed as your stomach began to calm its hungry tirade. Hopefully the chips would last you until you could get some real food. Though a part of you felt guilty for thinking it, you were glad Grim wasn��t here with you - all your money would’ve been spent on him.

A few minutes later, Ace plops down in the seat across from you. His meal consists of a burger, potato wedges, and a milkshake. You try to avoid ogling the bounty of food, directing your gaze down at your small, near empty bag of chips. You pick your drink up off the table and take a sip, the liquid gloriously wetting your mouth and tongue, staving off your parchness. As you place your drink back on the wooden table, Ace speaks up after swallowing a mouthful of burger. “That’s all you’re gonna eat?”

That pang of embarrassment for your situation wells up in your heart, like it has so many times before. “I’m not that hungry,” you say, avoiding his gaze as you take a potato chip and eat it. From the corner of your eye, you see Ace raise an inquisitive brow.

“Could have fooled me for the way your stomach was growling earlier.” So, he had heard that. You thought it’d been quiet enough for only you to hear - apparently not. You mentally cursed your gut’s cries for sustenance as you bit into another chip, this time a bit more forcefully.

“Well, I’m eating, so it shouldn’t do that anymore.”

Your voice was a bit more snappy than you intended. “Geez, alright!” Ace takes a sip from his milkshake, right after mumbling a quiet, “Don’t have to bite my head off.”

Soon, your bag of chips is empty. While the cold drink eases your body temperature and quenches your thirst, it does little to satisfy your lingering hunger. You take out your phone to check the time: it’s just a few minutes past one. A little under an hour to go before the bus comes back - another hour without food. Your stomach begins to ache; it’s a subtle pain, but you know it’ll gradually grow as the minutes pass. You desperately try to ignore it, distracting yourself from the smell of scrumptious food by looking out the window and glancing around the eatery. It truly is a nice place, just out of the way of the hustle and bustle of the city, located about a ten minute walk from the coastline.

Just as you’re fancying a quick swim to further distance yourself from your hunger, someone pokes your arm. “Hey.” You tilt your head to look over at Ace. He’s got a teasing smirk on his punchable face. “Your stomach growling again.”

You hadn’t even noticed, too lost in your thoughts to hear it. You fold your arms over your stomach and glare out the window. “Probably just indigestion,” you suggest dismissively.

You feel Ace stare at you for a moment, perhaps coming up with a way to tease you further. Instead, he asks, “You’re still hungry, aren’t you?”

Despite how much of a shithead he can be, there’s no sense in lying to him. “Yeah,” you reply. “I’m just going to hold out until we get back to the resort.”

“Um, hello?” Ace gestures about the space with his hand. “We’re at a restaurant? Or whatever you call this? They make food.”

“No shit.”

“So, go get something else to eat.”

“I’m fine, Ace.”

“Your stomach says otherwise.”

“Well, it can shut the fuck up, can’t it?”

Again, your tone came out sharper than you intended it to. This time, however, Ace didn’t make an offended comment about it. He is quiet, almost too quiet. Suddenly, he gets up from his seat and walks away. Maybe he has to go to the bathroom? That, or he doesn’t want to get kicked out by starting an argument with you. That’d be surprisingly smart of him, you think.

You glance over at his unfinished burger and wedges. Would he notice if you snuck in a bite of the meat, stole a fry? No - no, that’s wrong and you know it. You’re not Grim - you’re better than that. Wrapping your arms tighter around your stomach you turn back towards the window, once again trying to ignore the way your stomach continues to growl, mocking you. You almost jump out of your seat when something slams down on your side of the table. You’re startled to find a plate of food waiting for you.

“Eat.” That sounds more like a demand than a suggestion. Coming from Ace, it’s rather surprising. He sits across from you once more, no smile in sight as he stares at you, expression serious. You look down at the plate of food - a dish you often order from places like this. The growling of your gut intensifies as the glorious scent fills your nostrils. You look up at Ace and eye him suspiciously.

“I’m not falling for it,” you say, accusingly.

“Falling for what?”

“This!” You point at the plate of food. “You’re going to make me do some favor or something in return - like do your homework!”

Ace scoffs. “Who am I, Azul? I’m not gonna do something like that!” You narrow your eyes at him. “Okay, okay, I’ve done it before! But that’s not what this is about.”

He nudges the plate closer to you with his finger. “I’m not going to stuff my face and let you go hungry. I’m not even that low.” You raise an eyebrow at him. Ace briefly raises his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, maybe I’ve been an ass like that before. This is different, though.”

Ace leans back in his seat. “Eat, okay?” The beginning of a grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Or am I going to have to come over there and force you?”

No way in hell were you going to let that happen. He actually is serious, then. Well…if he insists. You put aside your suspicions - for now - and begin to eat. Immediately, you feel relief. In no time you’re wolfing down your food; it’s only when Ace chuckles at how you stuff your face that you slow down. “It’s good,” you say, trying not to be embarrassed.

“Mhm,” Ace hums in agreement as he chomps down on his burger. “Real good stuff,” he concurs through a mouthful of meat, bun, veggies, and condiments.

“Ew!” You cringe in disgust as you catch a glimpse of the mushy food in his mouth. “Don’t talk with your mouthful. It’s gross!”

Ace laughs as he swallows the bite. “You’re such a baby! You sound like Crewel.” He lightly kicks your ankle under the table. “Are you gonna call me a ‘bad dog,’ too?”

“No,” you grin at him wickedly, “but I could tell him how you’ve been acting here.”

You glimpsed fear in those cherry-colored eyes. “Don’t you dare! My ass is already grass when we get back!” He jabs a potato wedge in your direction. “And I bought you that food.”

“See?” You smirked. “I told you you’d use this against me.” The boy frowns at the realization, almost appearing disappointed in himself. An odd look on him, but likely nothing too deep. You smile and say, “Tell you what: as thanks for the food, I won’t tell anyone about your bad table manners.”

Ace’s smile is almost mischievous as he winks at you. “Deal.” He nods his head to the side, towards the napkin holder at the edge of the table near the window. “You want me to take one of those napkins and write up a makeshift contrast, too?”

You laugh as you shake your head, right before taking another big bite of your food. Maybe sneaking away from the rest of your class - whether or not intentional - wasn’t so bad after all.

***

Your asses were, indeed, grass when you finally made it back to Sebastian Square. You arrived just in time to catch the rest of your schoolmates and teachers about to leave the area for the resort. Professor Crewel was the one to greet you both, as Vargas and Trein had gone out to look for you. To say the man chewed you out would be an understatement - and in front of all your peers, too. Of course, when it was discovered that you were only trying to keep Ace from running off, your punishment was a lot lighter. All you would have to do is write a one page apology for not notifying a staff member instead, among other details. Ace, on the other hand, barely got out of detention while still on the trip; although, he would surely face that consequence the moment he stepped back on campus.

You step out of your hotel room and into the hall. Once again, hunger pangs your gut, and you decide to satiate it with a midnight snack. As you walk, your hand feels the billfold within your pocket. You’re very grateful that, upon learning that you used the last of your funds to procure sustenance during your unplanned delinquency, Crewel replenished your empty pockets. He strictly stated that they were for necessities - however, he discreetly said that, should there be any wants you desire in the last several days of the trip, you may come see him. Many would call it special treatment, but at this rate you’re waiting for the man to serve you adoption papers.

The glimpse of a smile ghosts over your lips as you take the elevator down to the lobby. After departing the lift, you walk across the room and enter a smaller one a short distance away from the front desk. What meets your gaze are three large vending machines - and one familiar redhead. “Ace?”

The man startles at the sound of his name. Obviously, he didn’t expect anyone else to come down here, let alone find him. “Shh!” he hisses. “Shut up! You want Crewel or Trein or Vargas to hear?”

“And cook your goose further?” You giggle. “Nah - I don’t think you can get anymore burnt.” You ignore the daggers he glares into the back of your head as you view the choices available behind the glass of the vending machines. Candy, chips, granola bars, bottled drinks - you insert your money into your chosen machine and make your selection. Ace does the same shortly after you’ve acquired your snack. As you suspected, it’s a candy bar, one made of dark chocolate and cherries.

“Bad dog!” You almost scare Ace out of his skin. “You’ll rot your teeth with that!”

“You-!” Ace looks like he’s going to punch your shoulder, but refrains. He tucks the bar of chocolate into his pocket before walking past you. He bumps into you as he does, forcing you to sway to the side.

“Hey, watch it!”

“Make me!” he calls back, mockingly sticking his tongue out at you before making a run for the elevators. You run after him, but by the time you get across the lobby, muttering a quick apology to the janitor you almost bumped into, Ace is already gone. You mumble under your breath how annoying he is as you hit a button between the elevators, indicating you want to go up. After a small bit of waiting, the one to your far left opens and you get on. You press the button for your floor and watch the large metal doors close, right before you feel yourself ascending upwards.

As you wait to reach your floor, you lean against the wall and shove your hands into your pockets. Your forehead crinkles as you frown, confused as to why there’s some sort of paper in your right pocket. You take it out, wondering if it’s some form of receipt you forgot. Instead, in your hand is a folded piece of lined paper, like you would use at school. You unfold the paper once, twice, three times before its face is opened up towards you. Your eyes widen as you read the words on the page, written in red ink.

Date #1 was nice. Date #2?

❑ Yes ❑No

#Twisted Wonderland: Beach Episode Mini Series #my work #twisted wonderland #gender neutral reader #twst #twst x reader #twst ace #ace trappola #twst ace x reader #ace trapolla x reader #twst divus #divus crewel #sneaking around #notes #asking out #friends to lovers implied

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in1-nutshell · 9 months ago

Note

And hey continuation of The last ask of old predacon buddy how would the decepticons react to Old Predacon buddy revert back into their younger form like out on the battlefield most of them would most likely be terrified (more specifically Megatron because he had to fight old Predacon buddy back then a long time ago)

Megatron is not going to have a fun time when he finds out.

Hope you enjoy!

Bot Buddy the Old Predacon turns to their younger self fights the Con's

SFW, Platonic, Cybertronain reader

The Autobot had been ambushed by the Decepticon’s.

They were being swarmed from every angle.

Buddy was becoming more and more restless hearing the sounds of battle through the console as Ratchet turned on the groundbrigde and went in to help.

“Ratchet let me help! We both know I can fight!”--Buddy

“This isn’t a game, Buddy. We can’t have Megatron know that you’re here like this.”--Ratchet

“And what about the others?”--Buddy

“If something does happen then come. But only as a last resort, do you understand?”--Ratchet

“…Fine.”--Buddy

The kids did their best to keep the Predacon calm while they kept on swishing their tail around in irritating fashion.

They were doing a good job keeping things under control despite everything.

“Don’t worry Buddy. They’ll be back before you know it!”--Raf

“Such faith you have Rafael. And such patience.”—Buddy

“It doesn’t look too good, but usually the bots have it covered.”--Jack

“They’ll be okay. The team’s been ambushed plenty of times. They always—”--Miko

“BBBBBBBEEEEEEEEEPPPPPPPPP! (OPTIMUS NNNOOOOO!)”--Bumblebee

“AAARRRGGGGHHHH!”--Optimus

“…”—the kids and Buddy

“…Rafael. Ready the groundbrigde.”—Buddy

Buddy slowly walks to the groundbrigde as Raf activates it.

They go through the portal.

Both sides saw a bridge open on the hill above them.

The bots optics widen knowing who it was.

Optimus was holding on to his wound on his side with Megatron in front of him.

Megatron also looked at the portal curiously.

What did the Autobots have up their…

Oh…

The giant predacon walked out of the portal and scanned the area.

Megatron actually stepped back seeing the site of the young Buddy.

It was almost like seeing Buddy when he first started out as a gladiator.

Soundwave was already planning several portals to help with the evacuation.

Buddy finally set their optics on Megatron and Optimus.

“MEGATRON!”--Buddy

“Is that—”--Megatron

“GET OFF OF PRIME!”--Buddy

Megatron narrows his optics at the Predacon.

“Megatron obeys NO ONE!”--Megatron

Megatron kicked Prime’s wound harshly.

The audial piercing scream that came out of Buddy’s throat made everyone try and cover them up.

It was too fast for anyone to comprehend.

Buddy had flown straight down and tackled Megatron off of Prime and proceeded to beat the ever-loving daylights out of him.

Megatron did put up a fight.

But the fight was already set the moment Megatron kicked Prime in his wound.

Buddy held no remorse for this mech.

This was no longer the Megatronus they knew from their days as gladiators.

This monster.

This Megatron.

Was the enemy.

They were close to offlining him, but Soundwave had tackled them to the ground.

Soundwave quickly sent out the groundbrigdes for the troops and Megatron could escape.

Buddy did manage to tail whip him before he went to the portal.

Buddy huffing as they carefully walk back to their team.

Ratchet is trying to patch up Prime’s wounds.

Buddy kneels down.

“Anyone who can’t walk, get on my back.”--Buddy

Buddy stayed by the injured bots side the entire time.

They absolutely refused to get treated until everyone was treated.

They absolutely did not leave Optimus’s side through the entire way, even afterwards.

“Has anyone seen Optimus?”--Jack

“No, not today.”--Arcee

“I saw him earlier with Buddy.”--Smokescreen

“Found them.”--Ratchet

Buddy has their wings and limbs around Optimus effectively trapping him to the med slab.

“You are not walking till I say so.”--Buddy

“Buddy—”--Optimus

Buddy moves their wing in front of Prime’s face.

“Sleep Pax. I’m going after Bumblebee and Ratchet next.”--Buddy

#transformers x reader #maccadam #bot buddy #tfp #tfp x reader #tfp x platonic reader #tfp optimus prime #tfp optimus x platonic reader #tfp megatron

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giggly-squiggily · 6 months ago

Text

Birthday Boy (Jujitsu Kaisen)

Heyo! :D A very very belated but happy birthday to Yuji Itadori! Am I over 2 months late? Yes. Am I still gonna share this with y'all? Heck yeah >:3

This is also a gift for the ever amazing @rachi-roo! I've already shared this with her, but I wanted to share it with y'all as well cause who doesn't love Yuji Itadori? (Totally not because I'm running out of writing mojo and resorted to drafted fics heheheheheheeeee) I hope y'all like it! :3

Cloud 9 (Taglist Peeps):

@thatbigbisexual29 @duckymcdoorknob @gladdygirl18 @baby-tickles2022 @mystwrites @chibisstuff @riisada @sp1racle

Summary: It's Yuji's birthday! Time to give the birthday boy as many tickles as he deserves!

Yuji woke up to blue eyes.

“GAH!” He yelped, falling as far back into his bed as possible. Gojo only grinned from his perch, clearly enjoying himself.

“Good morning, birthday boy~” He sang, tugging at the blanket hiding Yuji’s growing grin. “It’s time to get up- can’t spend your special day tucked in bed now, can we?”

“Is it an option?” Yuji asked, unable to fight down the giggles when Gojo’s eyes flashed, hands grabbing his sides through the sheet.

“I’m afraid not.”

The tickles came soon after, leaving Yuji yelping and giggling against his pillows. “Gohohohohojo shehehehehnsehehehehi! Agheahhahahahah hohohohld ohohohon! I ahhahahahven’t bruhuhuhushed my tehehehehehheheth yeehetet!”

“Don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of time to do that.” The older man snickered, giving Yuji’s upper ribs a pinch just to hear him squeal. “This is just me making sure you’ll stay awake through it.”

“Gehahahahahhaha, buhuhuhut I ahhahahahm ahahahhawhhwhahahhahaake!”

“Are you now? Hmm…” Gojo momentarily paused, taking in his flushed cheeks and heaving form. “I can’t tell. Let me double check!”

“GohohohJOHOHOHOHO!”

~~~~~~

His sides were still tingling as he walked into the dorm’s common space, finding Nobara playing on her phone. When her eyes caught his, she tossed it aside with a grin. “Happy birthday, you dork!”

“Oh thank you- whoa!” Yuji yelped when she practically leaped over the couch, hugging him tightly. This was new- Nobara wasn’t usually the type to throw herself in men’s arms.

Oh…

Oh dear.

“Wait- wait not you twohohohoohohooho!” The realization came far too late as Nobara’s fingers began zooming up and down his sides from behind, scritching along the back of his ribcage. “Nohhoohbahahahra cohoohohohme ohohohohon! I wahahahasn’t rehahhahhahdy!”

“What’s that? You weren’t ready? Oh you poor thing!” Nobara cooed at him, nuzzling her face into his stomach and adding an additional tickle factor. “Is the birthday boy too ticklish for his own good? Huh? Is he?”

Yuji let out a wheeze of mirth, trying to step back and out of her range with little success. It was like a dance- no matter where he went, Nobara was attached to him like glue. “Aehahahahhahaah! Nohoho-Nohohohobahahahra, pleahahhahahse! Whahhaait, wahahhait stahhahap-AH!” His back hit the couch, sending them tumbling over it. “Tihiihihme ohohohout, tihihihme ouhuhuht!”

“Oh okay.” Nobara stopped as promised, only to yelp when Yuji suddenly twisted their positions, sending them tumbling to the carpet below. With her trapped under him, he reached out and..

“Boop!” He tapped her gently on the nose before running for the hills, her cries of his name chasing behind him as he ran.

~~~

Time had passed, his body was starting to ache. He’d been running on the track for the past hour and a half with seemingly no end in sight.

“Come on, Itadori- don’t slow down now!” Panda called to him when he passed, cheering him on. Inumaki called out rice ball ingredients, something Yuji assumed was an encouraging statement. He gave them a thumbs up as he went to finish his last lap.

“Uh oh- better run birthday boy!” Panda called out something new in his voice. Yuji’s had enough experience this morning to know what was coming. “She’ll get you if you slow down~”

“Who-AH!” Yuji squawked seeing Maki flying after him, running like a curse with a mission. Flailing, he tried to pick up speed and outrun her- something he normally could do with ease. Maybe he was tired, or maybe he wanted what was to come, but Yuji soon found himself tackled face first into the track, just barely saved from injury.

“Should have ran faster, birthday boy.” Maki growled in his ear. Seconds later, fingers were tickling his armpits, making him flail and squeal. “Now you get to face my wrath!”

“AHHAHAHA! Noohohohot thehehehhehehre! Cooohohohohme ohohooohon, thahahhat’s soohohooho cheehehehap!” Yuji cried through his giggles, kicking his feet and flailing his arms as he tried and failed to block out Maki’s skillful fingers. “Nohooohoht the pihihihihihits!”

“Oo, he’s so ticklish! Look at him, flailing like a toddler!” Panda laughed as he came over, Inumaki by his side. “Come on, Toge- shall we lend a hand?”

“Salmon.” With that simple word, Yuji’s tickles went from one set of hands to three. Inumaki sat on his legs, scribbling into his thighs and the backs of his knees while Panda wormed a fuzzy hand up his shirt, clawing at his lower back and parts of his belly. Maki switched gears, grabbing Yuji’s wrists and pinning them above his head while the boys went to work.

“EHHAHAHAHHAHHAHAHAH! PAHHAHAHNDA! IIHIHIHIHNUMAHHAHHAKI! MAHHHAKI STAHHAHAHAP!” Yuji cried out, cheeks on fire and lungs starting to seize at the seemingly endless tickling. He felt like he was floating away, his soul leaving his body and hovering further up, up, up into the clouds and into the blinding sun.

“Mustard leaf.” Inumaki suddenly spoke up, making the pair pause. Yuji’s soul crash landed right back into his body, making him gasp for air through giggly hiccups.

“Yeah, you're right. Can’t kill him on his birthday- that’d be terrible.” Maki laughed as she ruffled Yuji’s hair, climbing off his back as the others moved away. Soon after a water bottle was placed by his face, one decorated with a panda.

“Thahahank you…” Yuji groaned softly as he took a massive gulp.

~~~

The sun was setting, and Yuji was feeling pretty good. The rest of his day after training with the second years was fairly calm. He spend a good hour just lounging in his room before Gojo busted in announcing they were going out. Soon after he found himself at the local arcade, battling Nobara in air hockey and flexing his dance dance revolution skills on Gojo and Megumi. They even ran into Todo who gave Yuji an oversized Takada shirt. “Only the best for my brother on his special day.” He said it with such pride Yuji couldn’t turn it down- even if he didn’t really know Takada that well.

At the dorms once more, he found himself standing in the common room, a layout of delicious things to eat and a massive cake before him as Gojo and Nobara sang off key happy birthdays. Maki, Panda and Inumaki sounded a bit better- and Yuji suspected Megumi was humming more than actually singing. It was so like him it made Yuji’s heart squeeze.

“What’d you wish for?” Megumi asked later, two slices of cake on their plates as they sat outside on the dorm’s roof, staring up at the stars. Down below, they could hear Panda and Nobara laughing over something, Maki putting away the leftovers from their dinner and Inumaki assisting Gojo in cleaning up. Their antics were like white noise to him; faded and comforting.

“If I tell you that, it won’t come true, will it?” Yuji grinned, snickering when Megumi rolled his eyes. “Thanks for celebrating with me today. I don’t think I’ve had this good of a birthday in a long time.”

“Huh? Wait, seriously?” Megumi sounded a bit shocked, turning to face the other. “What’d you do for all the birthdays before?”

“Stayed at home. Sometimes I went out, but most of the time I just kinda celebrated on my own.” Yuji shrugged as he took another bite of cake, thinking back. “Grandpa would celebrate with me when he could, but when his health caught up with him, he had to be hospitalized. He’d always tell me ‘Birthdays shouldn’t be celebrated with beeping machines and hospital food. Go celebrate with friends.’ I didn’t have the heart to tell him I didn’t have any to celebrate with.”

“Shit..” Megumi looked towards the skyline, unable to find words. Yuji felt a bit bad for dumping that on him so suddenly. “I’m sorry, Yuji.”

“Don’t be- today was great! Besides, those birthdays weren’t bad ones. They were just a bit..lonely, that’s all.” Finishing his cake, he put aside his plate as he leaned back on his hands. “Sorry- I killed the good vibes, didn’t I?”

“...” Megumi looked at him, then he put down his cake, turning to Yuji. “No, you’re fine. But I don’t think you should end the night feeling like this..”

“Huh? WHOA!” Yuji yelped when Megumi pushed him on his back, pinning him. “Should have guessed this was gonna hahahahppen.” Yuji was already laughing before Megumi began tickling, pinching along his hips and making the pink haired boy giggle. “Cahhaharefuuhuhl, I juhuhust ahahahte!”

“Don’t worry- I’ll stop before you feel sick.” Megumi let a rare smile pull on his lips as he carried on gently tickling Yuji, curling his fingers into not so ticklish spots just to keep him smiling. “Can’t have you bummed out on your birthday. It’s bad luck.”

“Ihihihit’s my paahharty, I’ll crihihiihy if I wahhahahan’t to!” Yuji giggled out, barely fighting off Megumi’s hands as they slowly worked up his ribs. “Yohoohohud crhihihiy tohohoho if ihihihit hahahapenened to yohohohoohu!”

“What happened? Oh- wait- that’s a song.” Megumi tsked as he tapped along Yuji’s belly, making him jerk and curl up. “You and your international playlist. I bet you have songs from every part of the world on there, don’t you?”

“Heheheheell yehhahahah! Whahahhanna hehahhar it soohohome tiihihime?”

“Sure. I’ll swing by and we can have a listening session. That’d be nice.” Megumi gently pushed him back as he pinched along the soft spots of Yuji’s skin, earning a squeaky string of laughter in return. “We can invite Nobara- get her in on it. She’ll bring pizza. I’ll get the drinks.”

“Soohoohounds like a plahahhahan! Agehahhhahahaha, ohoohhokay ohohohoaky!” Yuji cried out, catching Megumi’s hands and bringing them away from his stomach. “Thahaht’s enohohough.”

“Got it.” Megumi snorted before releasing Yuji, returning to his spot. With his cake regathered, he nibbled on a bite as he watched his friend curl up and wheeze, breathless with laughter. “You’ve got tickled all day, huh?”

“Yehahah…it was niiihce.” Yuji laughed, bringing himself to sit up. “Really nice. I had alot of fun today.”

“Good. Let’s make it a point to do this every year.” Megumi didn’t look at him when he said it, but Yuji could see how red his ears got, even beneath the dark sky.

“Yeah. Definitely.” Yuji laughed, his voice a bit thick as he fist bumped Megumi’s shoulder.

He was so happy he found them. His little sorcerer family.

Thanks for reading!

#jjk #tickle #tickle fic #fluff #yuji itadori #gojo satoru #nobara kugisaki #megumi fushiguro #maki zenin #panda #inumaki toge #the gangs all here #birthday tickles #tickles for Yuji!#I'm beyond late for his actual birthday but we're celebrating him all around!

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rjk1ve · 10 months ago

Text

AGORA HILLS

────────── BASED OFF OF THIS EDIT.

summary: you and jimin are in a fwbs relationship until things take a turn and feelings get involved.

pairing: global pop star m!reader x model!jimin

warnings: fully self indulgent (sorry not sorry), cheating, frottage, lots of kissing, oppa kink, pet names (princess, baby etc), oral (jm & reader receiving), feminisation (reader calls jm’s hole a pussy like one time), fwbs turned… well it’s complicated, reader is a literal ass to his fiancée lmao, manipulative reader, some teasing, confessions, unintentional subspace, jm is so smitten, so is reader tbh, ass eating fr, bareback (pls use protection ppl), breeding kink

Your phone vibrates in a continuous loop—an indicator of a call that remains silent within the four walls of your sumptuous bedroom, currently accompanied by the body of your sleeping fiancée next to you.

The clock in the top left hand corner of your screen reads 01:37am. It’s not late, but it isn’t exactly early either, and honestly, if it were any other person on the line except for him, you may have just popped a vessel or two, thumb lifting up to caress your brow line as you get up and head somewhere downstairs.

Jimin knows you very well, probably better than your own oblivious fiancée and even your friends, and for that reason, he also knows he gets to get away with this every time.

“Hm.” You grunt once you pick up—your way of letting him know you’re listening and that you’re there when you’re not in the mood to talk. Jimin sighs heavily on the other side.

“Are you still mad at me?” He asks, a pout clearly evident in the tone of his voice. When he receives nothing but silence from your end, he continues, “Baby,” and his voice is sweet—honey sweet with drops of dark chocolate, a rich, breathy note that sings its way into your veins. It’s a tone he only ever uses with you, but even that had become meaningless in the face of greedy fingers pulling another man close to him tonight.

There’s some shuffling on his end of the line before he speaks again. “Are you not planning to talk to me at all? I called because I missed you, wanna hear your voice.” he says, and you hear more shuffling, a light vibration crackle through the line. Your eyes fall onto the glittering moon as it reflects against the still waters of the pool, your body leant by the pillar holding up the entrance to your backyard.

“If you’re gonna call me to apologise, at least have the decency to try and hide your horniness,” You comment, voice low, but the corner of your lip twitches upwards, until it doesn’t, because Jimin mewls, inhaling small breaths of air, and the sudden rush of arousal goes straight to your dick.

“Are you playing with yourself right now?” You ask, fingers resting on your chest to scratch through the cotton fabric lazily. Jimin doesn’t answer, instead you receive a sharp exhale from him before he whimpers. “Answer me, kitten.” You demand, voice firm, and he whimpers again at the use of the pet name.

“I have to,” He gasps out, “Since all these men around me have gotten so useless lately.” and he says this as a jab to you—not in the sense that you’re not good in bed, because fuck, Jimin doesn’t think he’s even seen a cock half as impressive as yours, stamina eye widening. He says this because he misses you, wants you, needs you, wishing to irk you into action, but your stubbornness always overpowers his pleas, even now.

“Mm, have fun with your little toy then.” You tell him, and Jimin picks up on the finality of your tone, knowing you were soon going to end the call and so he has no choice, pulling out his last resort.

A sniffle filters through to your ear within seconds, and your eyebrows knit together, understanding exactly where this is going. “Are you serious?” You growl lowly, voice rough and cracking through your meticulously crafted facade. This is a regular Thursday for him, an act of vulnerability that shouldn’t affect you so much after its tireless misuse, but this is Park Jimin. And you’re you.

“It didn’t mean anything,” his voice trickles with something you’re unfamiliar with—it sounds honest, almost regretful. “She was clinging to you all night. Y-you wouldn’t even look at me. I couldn’t think of anything else. I just… I wanted your attention.”

Your fingers cascade through your hair, your resolve breaking with a sigh. It wasn’t exactly a lie; Jimin was right. Your fiancée was being clingier than usual at Jung Hoseok’s album launch party tonight, and she was never the clingy type. Perhaps the threat of endless socialites was too grand, or maybe she simply wished to show off her man in an unfamiliar crowd, wanting to feel like she actually belonged. Either way, Jimin noticed and was clearly affected by it.

“She’s my fiancée, sweetheart.” You didn’t know what else to say. It’s not as if the arrangement between you and Jimin meant anything. You were just fuck buddies—someone the other could use for stress relief and to maybe complain about your actual relationships from time to time. That’s all you are, or were supposed to be, because Jimin doesn’t like your reply.

“Come see me.” He demands instead, blunt with a layer of desperation seeping in. It’s been nearly a week since he saw the last of you, soothing the itch of separation that burns beneath his skin through gentle and excited reminders of your long awaited encounter at Hoseok’s party.

He did not wait a week for you to ignore him. He did not wait a week to watch you guide your pretty little fiancée out of Hoseok’s lavish venue just because she couldn’t handle her alcohol too well.

“Jimin-” You start, but he cuts you off quickly, already aware of the words of rejection sitting on the tip of your tongue. But you should also know, he isn’t one to give up so easily, and he knows exactly what gets you going.

“Please, oppa.” He begs, a pitched whine that you can envision on his pouty lips that immediately shuts you up, erasing any previous plans of denying Jimin his demands. “Need you to stretch me out on your cock, need to let everyone know they’ll never be able to accommodate me like you do. I need it.”

See, usually when your brain’s in charge, moments like this… those days where Jimin is extra needy and sultry with his words, they don’t affect you. But tonight, after all of the shit with your fiancée practically ruining your time out with your friends, your dick is starting to take hold of the reins, twitching and leaving behind a feeling of tightness in your loose joggers.

“Fine. I’ll see you in ten.”

──────────

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, please.” Jimin cries, pressed up against the wall to his bedroom, desperately wishing to grind back into you who licks a long stripe up his neck. You nibble on his earlobe, lips ghosting the shell of his ear.

“God, yes,” Jimin moans as your hands roam over his body, pulling his back flat against your chest. He can feel your cock pressing against his ass, seeking more friction as you grind against him. “Please, stop teasing.”

You chuckle softly before spinning him around, slamming him against the door with enough force that it rattles in its frame. Your mouth is hot and wet against his as you kiss him deeply, exploring every inch of his lips and tongue, tasting him, owning him.

His eyes flutter shut, mouth falling open in a soundless, vulnerable offer, submitting himself to you as you continue to tease him, fingers digging into his hips, nails scratching lightly against his skin.

The intensity between you both is undeniable, electric sparks crackling in the air as desire consumes you whole. Jimin's mind goes blank as your lips move to trail down his neck, his fingers digging into your shoulders in order to hold himself upright. Each touch from you ignites new flames within him, threatening to engulf him utterly.

You retract, lips glistening with spit and saliva as you grip his chin, breath heavy on his lips. “Look at me.” You demand, and he looks up at you with wide eyed innocence, mind hazy, hands desperate to hold you tightly against him. “What do you want, baby? Do you want oppa’s cock?”

He’s like putty in your hands, melting under your every touch as he nods desperately. “Yes,” He breathes out, voice husky with need. “I want everything oppa has to offer.”

You smirk, wickedness dancing in your gaze as you grasp onto his waist, lifting him effortlessly off the ground. His legs wrap around your hips as you carry him towards his bed, every step sending shivers through his entire being. He’s missed you so much. He tells you exactly this.

“I missed you too, baby,” You reply and it’s honest.

As soon as you lay him down, he spreads his thighs eagerly, inviting you closer. With hunger in your eyes, you crawl between them, tracing circles along the insides of his knees before slowly dragging yourself upwards, placing a lusty kiss upon his lips as his fingers entangle themselves in your hair, tugging harshly at the roots.

Jimin gasps as you break away from his lips, trailing kisses across his jawline and down his chest. Everywhere your mouth touches sends jolts of pleasure throughout his body, leaving him panting for breath. As your teeth graze the sensitive skin beneath his collarbone, he arches his back, begging for more.

Your hand wanders lower, skimming over the fabric of his pants before dipping inside. The rough texture of your palm strokes against his hardened cock, making him groan loudly. Your other hand reaches up to pinch and twist his nipples, drawing sharp intakes of breath from him.

Jimin grips onto the sheets, trying to steady himself as waves of sensation crash over him. “Oppa,” he whines, clutching onto your arm. “Don't stop.”

You coo, using your free hand to quickly pull out your own leaking cock from your joggers, pressing its larger size against Jimin’s own smaller one. He whimpers as he looks down, and you guide both of his hands to wrap around your cocks. “You can take over for me for a little bit, can’t you?”

It’s not even a question that needs answering as Jimin sits up, reaching over to his nightstand to grab some lube, tearing it open and immediately lathering both of your cocks. His thighs rest comfortably over yours, toes curling as he begins jerking. You hum, watching his small hands struggle to hold you in place as you strip yourself of your shirt and discard it onto the floor. Jimin’s breath catches.

“Have you upped your workout regime? You look even bigger than last time.” He says, practically drooling at the way your biceps stretch and flex with every move. His eyes trail along every part of you; from your broadened shoulders to your heavily developed pecs, you could simply consume him whole.

“If I don’t work out, who’s gonna protect you?” You ask, and he perks up at that, hands stuttering their ministrations for a second before speeding up. Clearly, he likes that you seem to think about him outside of your little get togethers, cheeks colouring pink. Your hand wraps around his wrist then, before you flip him around onto his stomach, fingers digging into his hips as you hold his ass up in front of you.

“And if I don’t protect you, then perhaps any old bastard’d get access to this, no?” You continue, voice low and dripping with a hint of venom. Jimin’s hole puckers at the recollection of your jealousy; a little apologetic but satisfied with the effect he now knows he has on you.

“Oh, you like that?” You spit on his hole, thumb rubbing gentle circles around the rim, stretching it just a little bit so you can get a better view inside. Jimin whines, head turning to look back at you.

“No teasing, oppa.” He pleads once more, already pretty sensitive from his earlier play session. You ignore him however, spitting onto his hole again before you shove your tongue inside to get a taste. Jimin’s fingers curl around silk sheets, bunching up the fabric as he pushes his ass back, trying to meet you halfway. “Yes, yes, yes. Like that. Just like that, please!”

Your hands move to spread Jimin’s ass cheeks apart, squeezing and kneading the flesh as you shove your tongue in deeper. The slide is easy, his hole gaping and ready to be used but you want to prolong the foreplay, want to spend every extra second in his welcoming embrace. “What a desperate little bitch in heat. It’s like you can’t function at all without a cock in you, huh?” You mock, slapping his ass. He squeaks at the impact, head lolling onto the mattress.

“Not just any cock. Your cock. Can’t live without oppa’s cock, want it all to myself.” He says, and his voice slips into shy territory, attempting to bury his reddened cheeks with the silk sheets. You pause, catching the change of tone, and what would usually be harmless dirty talk seems to take a different connotation for Jimin.

“All to yourself?” You move away from Jimin’s ass, climbing over to press yourself firmly on top of him, holding most of your weight up with your arms so as to not crush the younger. Jimin can barely make eye contact, continuing to hide his face within the sheets.

Your head settles within the crook of Jimin’s neck, your hand reaching down to rub your cock between his ass cheeks in a steady rhythm as you nibble on his tan skin. “What’s wrong? You can’t look oppa in the eye when you make confessions now? Look at me, baby.” And your hand wraps around his throat, tilting his head up to make eye contact, foreheads pressed together.

“I want you to myself. I want you to stay the night.” He confesses, bottom lip trapped between his teeth. It’s not something you’re used to; his shyness, his insistence on your time, but you’re already in a state of mounting bliss, cock now positioned against his hole. You insert it in without much warning, earning a surprised scream from Jimin, but before his head can pull away, your hand reaches up to keep it in place, pressing a firm kiss to his lips.

“I’m all yours, princess. Oppa will stay the night if it makes you happy.”

And that moment there—that is probably the start of when boundaries really began to blur.

──────────

“I just don’t like the way he clings to you. I think you should set some boundaries, don’t you think?” She asks, chopping up some carrots. It’s a casual slip in, her obviously thinking she was acting quite nonchalant about it as to not create a scene. You hum, scratching your ear as you read through the setlist your manager had sent to you. “I mean, I know he’s your friend, but last time when we went to Jieun’s party everyone was commenting about how close you two seemed. Some of them even thought you were dating! I mean, isn’t that crazy?”

You settle back in your seat on the couch, switching channels on the TV as you reply to Hoseok’s message about covering a dance challenge later and then Namjoon’s invitation for his first night out as a newly single man. Your fiancée continues rambling in the background.

“It’s just… strange. When was it that you got to know him? He acts like he’s known you for a lifetime. Every now and again is fine, but-” She finally looks over at you, pausing when she realises you’ve been paying her no mind, “Oppa!”

Rolling your eyes, you finally turn to look at her. “What?” You grumble, switching your phone off. She huffs like a little child and you simply raise your brow. “Well? What?”

“Have you been listening to anything I’ve been saying at all this entire time?”

You shrug, gaze turning to the TV upon hearing Jimin’s name on the presenter’s lips. The man’s discussing the upcoming Paris Fashion Week and Korea’s anticipation for Jimin’s appearance. Your diverted attention simply irks your fiancée even more as she storms over to you in order to grab the remote before switching the TV off altogether.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You ask, eyebrows furrowed. She crosses her arms over her chest, visibly upset.

“Don’t you understand what I’m trying to say?” She exclaims. “Your friendship with Jimin-ssi has become unhealthy. I don’t want him coming between us. You need to make sure there’s a clear boundary between your personal life and your professional one.”

You scoff at the ridiculousness spewing out of her lips, averting your eyes as you grab yourself a cigarette from the pack on the coffee table. “Personal? Professional? Like you said, he’s my friend. We’re just close like that.” You dismiss, pulling the lighter out of your pocket.

“But your behavior around him is different,” She says firmly. “You’re always making excuses to spend time with him, canceling plans with me or avoiding social events because you don’t want to be away from him for too long.”

“Now you’re just making shit up.” You comment, beginning to stand up. You make your way over to the balcony but she follows you, exasperated.

“I’m making shit up? Are you serious? Everyone can see it! Your friends see it, my friends see it. The media sees it, so why can’t you?”

Lighting your cigarette, you inhale deeply, your eyes drifting down to the ends of the cigarette burning lightly in your hand. Everyone sees it?

“People like to stir up drama. Especially about guys like me, sweetheart. You should know this.” You tell her, bringing the cigarette back up to your lips. She stays silent for a second, and you hope she’s finally settled down until her voice reaches your ears once more, triggering the oncoming symptoms of a headache you’d rather not deal with.

“They’re only stirring up drama because you’re giving it to them on a silver platter. You need to stop spending so much time with Jimin-ssi. Or at least stop letting him cling to you the way he does.”

As you exhale another puff of smoke, you can feel your temper starting to flare up. “What’s wrong with spending time with my friend? And what do you mean by ‘cling’? That’s just his personality.”

Your fiancée throws her hands up in frustration. “You’re not listening to me! I’m saying that it’s too much, that your friendship with him is crossing a line and I don’t feel comfortable with it. Can’t you see how it affects our relationship?”

You let out a sigh, flicking the cigarette butt over the balcony railing. “I understand that you’re uncomfortable with it, yeah? But I’m not cutting him out of my life like that.” You reply calmly, trying to diffuse the situation. “Jimin’s been there for me through a lot of shit, and I’m not going to throw away our friendship because of baseless rumors.”

Your fiancée looks at you, her eyes pleading. “I’m not asking you to throw away your friendship, I’m just asking you to set some boundaries. And maybe spend more time with me instead.”

You nod, but your internal feelings to defend Jimin still bubble in your chest. “I’ll try to find a balance, alright? But you need to trust me. I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise our relationship.”

Your fiancée nods, a bit of relief on her face. “Okay,” she says quietly. “I trust you.” You pull her into your arms, holding her gently.

“I love you,” You whisper, kissing her forehead.

But one has to wonder just when did it become so easy for you to lie like this?

──────────

“That’s right, baby. Keep going. Good, good boy.” You hiss lowly, fingers tangled within Jimin’s head of hair as he bobs his head, sucking your cock past his plump lips messily, hollowing his cheeks.

You bite back a groan, hips thrusting up, slow and steady before they pick up pace, fucking Jimin’s throat like it’s your own personal fleshlight. “God, your mouth. I fucking love your mouth.” You growl, and he looks up at you through thick wet lashes, fingers running along your thighs in an encouraging manner.

“Take it all, princess.” You hold his head still, pushing in deeper as his eyes roll back from every extra inch of your cock that invades his throat. His muffled moan vibrates through your cock and you stroke his cheek, getting him to look up at you with pleading eyes.

“So pretty like this. You’re so good, always helping oppa relieve his stress.” You whisper, and he moans again, nodding, always willing to help. His lack of a gag reflex means you can continue to push his head all the way down and he lets you until his nose presses against your pelvis, cock buried fully within his warm walls.

You hold him in place for a hot minute, head settling back against the couch as you shudder, lips parted, swallowing hard as your fingers brush through his hair. Jimin’s hand moves to fondle with your balls, mouth dribbling the longer he holds your cock down before you pull him off and he heaves.

It only takes a moment before he’s back to appeasing you, licking long stripes up your cock, cheek pressed against your thigh. “Oppa,” he babbles, breathless and needy, and you understand fully as you guide him up to sit on your lap. He immediately presses his lips to yours, shoving his tongue down your throat. You can taste the remnants of your come through the kiss, fingers digging into his perked ass cheeks, spreading them apart.

“You want it that bad?” You query teasingly, eyebrow raised with a lazy smile. He presses himself closer to you, wiggling his ass against your cock as he nods desperately, nibbling on your bottom lip for another taste of you. You hum, pulling away with a tsk. “Words, sweetheart. What did I say about using your words?”

“Oppa!” He cries out with a pout, actual tears forming along his lash line, “Please. I’ve been good. Can’t cum without oppa’s cock. Can’t cum without you in me. Can’t do it. Please.” He begs, giving you much more than you’d asked for, and it satisfies your ego immensely, fingers cascading down the front of your shirt that drapes over Jimin’s figure before sneaking underneath it to run them along the smooth expanse of his skin.

“You have been a good boy, haven’t you? Go on then.” You jut your chin out and his being fills with vibrance, hand reaching back to position your cock against his entrance, but choosing to get payback for your little teasing seconds prior by rubbing his already lubed ass against your hardened length, only ever pushing your tip in slightly before pulling out.

You growl, lips curled down slightly. “Baby, are you playing games with me right now?”

He smiles, eyes turning into little crescent moons as he pecks your lips, his free hand coming up to rest on your shoulder for balance before finally he plunges himself down onto your cock, earning synchronised moans from the both of you.

Jimin’s head nestles itself into the crook of your neck, giving you access to skin that you suck on gently, wishing to form generous marks of your time together before he moves away, shaking his head. “No marks, oppa. The makeup noonas get mad.”

You tsk, although you try to compose your disappointment. Jimin still seems to catch onto some sense of it however, because he’s quick to comfort you, hands cupping your cheeks as he gyrates his hips slowly. “Don’t- don’t be mad. You’re the only one that gets to have me like this.”

“I better be.” You grumble, but Jimin’s insides swell with pride when he notices the way your attention catches at this information. It’s news to you, having thought Jimin would be seeing plenty of other guys in his spare time aside from you but he isn’t.

You’re his favourite. His only one.

“Does oppa like the thought of having me to himself~?” He asks, lips grazing gently against the shell of your ear. He nibbles on it, earning a hum from you as your hands rest on his petite waist, squeezing.

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. Guess you’ll never really know, will ya?” You chuckle when you feel him pout, his tight walls clenching around your cock. He wraps his arms around your shoulders.

“I’m not moving until you tell me.” He says stubbornly. You pretend to huff, fingers lifting to guide him to face you as you caress his cheek with softened eyes.

“Baby,” You begin, and Jimin perks up, eyes wide with anticipation as he nods, urging you on. He’s so excited thinking you’re going to admit his impact on you until he blinks and suddenly you’re on top of him, having flipped your positions with ease. “You should know better than to provoke me.”

His arms still hold onto your shoulders loosely, and it takes him a minute to register what had just taken place before he whines like a little child, thrashing beneath your weight. “I hate you.” He huffs after failing to push you away, pout deepening as he turns his head. You thrust in and out of him slowly, watching the way his face contorts immediately and his lips quiver, trying his hardest to hold back even the subtlest hint of pleasure until his back arches once you bottom out, nails digging into your delts.

Your hands rest on either side of Jimin’s head, held up by the arm of the couch as you lean down. “I love you.” You whisper, thrusting in deeper, harder, and Jimin tenses at the sudden confession. His thighs loosen and tighten around your waist all at once, almost as if he’s unsure of reality itself. He’s zoned out for a moment, eyes glazed over and then he starts to cry—fresh hot tears stream down his face as he looks up at you, and the look in your eyes is so pure and unfiltered, so full of vulnerability that it makes him cry harder, pulling you as close to him as humanly possible.

“Again.” He pleads, legs spreading wider now, heels digging into your ass to push your cock further into his depths. You press your lips to his in a hot passionate kiss and he responds enthusiastically, nails scratching roughly along your back. “Please. Please say it again. Tell me you love me.”

“I love you.” You tell him again, obliging to his every whim as your slow and powerful thrusts turn to honest lovemaking. His cock twitches at the admission, pre-come leaking out which accompanies pretty, flushed cheeks.

You kiss his tears away one by one, cooing at the way he seems to take on a more docile and dependent role as opposed to his usual bratty one. You’ve even witnessed him on his more desperate days where he’ll do anything just to grab your attention, but not this. This was something different.

“Baby,” You call out to him, hand cupping his cheek. He simply nuzzles further into your touch, mewling at the warmth you provide as you press yourself against him completely, his eyes twinkling as he stares up at you.

“You okay?” You ask, just to be sure. He doesn’t respond with words, but his hands lift to wrap around your wrist, the other settling on top of your palm as he guides your thumb past his lips. He suckles gently, hot tongue circling the pad of your thumb and this is answer enough.

You’ve unintentionally caused him to slip into subspace with your confession, and as you realise this, your heart swells. Those simple words that had come out of your lips had meant so much to Jimin. His ears had practically been yearning to hear them and now that he had, he couldn’t possibly imagine anything more euphoric. He loved you so much.

“Did you like oppa’s confession that much? You liked it so much that you’ve gone dumb, hm?” You chuckle, licking your bottom lip as he nods eagerly, not even denying the accusation. “Good, because oppa’s gonna breed this pretty little pussy until you’re begging me to stop, baby.”

Pulling your thumb out of his mouth, you move your hands back to the arm of the couch where Jimin’s head lays, knuckles tense as your fingers dig into the fabric, thrusting at an angle that has Jimin screaming your name.

“Oppa, oppa…” He’s babbling in your ear, nails scratching along your back subconsciously and you know he’s definitely left some semipermanent marks by now that you’ll have to hide from your fiancée. He’s never been this clumsy, never left any marks on you like this but you can’t say you don’t enjoy it.

“Doing so well for me.” You praise into his ear and he bites down on your shoulder, earning a groan from you as you press a kiss to his temple. His walls clench rhythmically around your cock as if it’s physically attempting to stop you from pulling out at all, loving the thought of being impaled on your girth for eternity. He would be such a good cocksleeve for you, wouldn’t he?

Soon, you turn him on his back where he holds himself up on all fours quite poorly, his cheek smushed against the leather couch as you hold up his ass. Your tongue immediately slips inside to get a taste and he cries, pushing his ass back even further for your pleasure. “Want oppa’s cum… want all of it in me.” He pleads.

Humming, you lift yourself up, pressing light kisses along his back before your chest slots itself perfectly against Jimin’s back. You guide Jimin’s head up, your bicep wrapped around the younger’s throat in order to hold his head upright before your cock shoves past his walls again. “Mm, there we go.” You smirk upon finding your target, hitting his prostate over and over rapidly.

Jimin thrashes a little at the mounting pleasure but you hold him securely, the veins in your arms popping.

As you continue to pound into Jimin's tight whole, sweat drips off your forehead and onto his skin, mingling with the sheen already slick between your two bodies. The sounds of flesh meeting flesh echo through the room and you both moan and grunt with each brutal thrust.

Your grip around Jimin’s neck tightens slightly as you feel his muscles begin to spasm around your cock. “Oh god,” he whimpers, his voice strained and breathless. “Don't stop... please don't stop.”

With a low growl, you drive deeper into him, feeling his inner walls contract around your dick as you hit his sweet spot once more. It takes everything you have not to lose control right then and there, but you force yourself to hold back, wanting to draw out his pleasure as long as possible.

Slowly, you pull almost entirely out, only to plunge back into him again with renewed vigour. Jimin screams your name as you repeat this torturous cycle, the tip of your cock rubbing against his sensitive nerve endings each time you withdraw.

As the intensity builds within Jimin, his body begins to tremble uncontrollably. Sweat glistens on his skin, mixing with tears that stream down his face. “Oppa,” he chokes out, clutching desperately at the couch cushions beneath him.

Ignoring his cries for mercy, you continue to pound into him relentlessly. Every stroke sends waves of ecstasy coursing through his entire being, leaving him gasping for air.

Finally, with one final push, you erupt deep inside him, filling him completely with your seed. Jimin lets out a keening cry as he comes with you, writhing underneath you as you collapse against his back, spent.

For several moments, the only sound that fills the room is the steady beat of your hearts intertwined together. Eventually, you lift yourself up, pulling out of Jimin’s quivering hole. As you do so, he collapses forward onto the couch, exhausted and utterly satisfied.

“Thank you, oppa,” He whispers weakly, closing his eyes, but then he opens them again almost immediately—this time with slight insecurity etched within them, not giving you time to answer before he speaks again. “Did you… did you mean what you said?” He asks, his voice meek and timid. “About, uhm, the confession?”

You pause, considering your words carefully. Now that the rush of pleasure and adrenaline had passed you by, the words exchanged between the both of you become clearer, but you don't regret anything.

“I meant every word.” You tell him honestly, your fingers gripping his chin gently. He brightens at the words, hopeful. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you too.” He replies, pulling you down into a kiss.

TAGLIST ───── check out this post to see how to be added.

#🧾. 𝐉𝐌 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐈𝐎𝐒 !#bts x male reader #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #jimin fanfic #jimin fanfiction #jimin x male reader #jimin x reader #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop imagines #male reader #kpop x male reader

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denaliwrites · 1 year ago

Text

Dreams See Us Through

Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader

Part 1: Don't Blink Part 2: Don't Turn Your Back Part 3: Don't Look Away

Catch and Release Prompt: "Solo"

Summary: Without the Doctor by your side, it's up to you to save yourself.

Soundtrack: If We Hold On Together by Diana Ross

Requests: Open!

Tag List: @nyxiethesimp, @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce -- If I could tag literally everyone who asked for a part 4, I would.

Warnings: Canon-Typical Peril.

"Doctor," the tinny voice of Jack Harkness piped up from the TARDIS intercom, sounding winded, "I found something I think you're gonna want to see."

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

When you opened your eyes, the Doctor was gone. In his place, a seemingly infinite field of flowers sprawled before you, with the sun shining brightly overhead. At first, you thought maybe you'd died and gone to Heaven, but as you looked around you saw that, to your right, nestled among some rolling hills, sat a pretty average-looking castle. You would've thought that, were this Heaven, the castle would've been grand and made of gold or something.

And, as you made your way through the meadow, you realized you recognized the flowers you brushed past.

So the angel hadn't killed you. And not only had it instead displaced you in time, it had also displaced you in space.

You were back on Earth.

Your next step was to find out when and where you were. Based on the castle overhead, your guess for location was a very broad "somewhere in Europe." That didn't help you much -- you needed more exact details.

You needed coordinates and a date.

You paused to look around, realizing that you never bothered to look behind you. Unfortunately, it didn't help much -- the castle was still your best bet for civilization. And from this distance, you couldn't tell what state it was in. If it was brand new or hundreds of years old.

Only time -- and a very long trek -- would tell.

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

"Doctor," Jack greeted as the Time Lord swept into the room. His arms were held open as if for a hug.

The Doctor ignored the gesture and opted to instead stare at Jack from a distance, arms crossed over his chest. "Why am I here, Jack?" he asked, already tired of the man's antics.

"To look at this," Jack answered with an easy grin as he whipped out something from his coat pocket.

The Doctor stared at it in confusion.

"You called me all the way here for an Agatha Christie novel?"

"Really, Doctor. You think I'd resort to making up excuses to get you to come see me? Look at the cover," Jack told him, throwing the book over.

The Doctor caught it easily and did as Jack had told him. Up close, he could see the details and read the finer print. And a realization struck him.

"What's a hundred-year-old Vipiteran edition of the Mysterious Affair at Styles doing in a dingy apartment in 2008 London?" Jack asked aloud the question that had been forming in the Doctor's mind.

He didn't have an answer, so he shrugged and began flipping through the pages.

He was near the end when he stopped short, staring at something wedged between the pages. The Doctor pulled it out, staring dumbfoundedly at the old photograph he held between his fingers.

"Doctor, look at the back."

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

The biggest problem was avoiding the creation of a paradox -- difficult, but not impossible.

Luckily, you'd found a town on the other side of the castle, and with it your date and location. May 16, 1922 in Tureborg, Sweden. That definitely made things easier, though there was still the challenge of getting the Doctor's attention without creating a paradox. Or... at least, not a world-ending one. Hopefully.

You unfortunately had very little on you -- really, only the book you'd bought on Vipitera that you'd kept on you in case you found time to read (so much for that), and a credits chip that was virtually useless now.

You also couldn't speak Swedish. That was a bit of a problem.

You were there only a few days when your problems seemed to resolve themselves. An English artist had stumbled upon the town on his way through the country and had stopped to take in the sights and paint a pretty picture.

More importantly, though, he had a camera with him, and that was enough to spark an idea in your mind.

Befriending the artist was easy -- he was desperate for the companionship of someone who could understand him and you were desperate to get back to the Doctor.

You used each other, as God intended.

Fast friends that you were, it wasn't long before the artist offered to take your picture, and it was an offer you couldn't refuse. In fact, it was an offer you'd been banking on.

And that was how you got a Vipiteran copy of the Mysterious Affair at Styles, with a picture of you tucked into the back and a date a few days into the future and current coordinates scrawled on the back, to London.

Now all you could do was wait, and hope.

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

The Doctor decided, as he set the TARDIS on course for the day and location you'd written on the back of that photograph, that the moment he saw you, he was going to tell you he loved you.

He was lucky, ultimately, that you'd found a way to leave breadcrumbs that were too small to upset the delicate balance of reality -- yet noticeable enough for him to pick up the trail.

He was lucky that you were smart, and bold, and courageous, and determined as hell. He was lucky that you wouldn't take death lying down. That you'd find some way to make it back to him.

He was lucky, he realized as he threw the switch that'd send him back to you, that you loved him enough to fight to get back to him.

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

Right on time, the sound of the TARDIS materializing filled the air. You moved to stand, waiting with bated breath and vibrating nerves as the blue box faded into view, and only a moment later the Doctor came bounding out, eyes scanning the scene for you.

He barely had a second to process the you-shaped missile heading his way before you were on him, arms thrown around his neck and holding on so tightly that he had to remind you that he needed to breathe.

"Shut up," you murmured into his neck, even as your arms loosened, "and fucking hug me back."

He obeyed without hesitation, his lips pressing to the top of your head as he pulled you tighter against him.

"I thought I lost you," he said into your hair. "I love you -- I promise I will never let anything happen to you again."

You believed him.

This experience had been enough to scare you both into being more careful. And even so, it wasn't over.

You pulled away from the Doctor, staring up at him with a determined gaze.

"Take me home. There's a Weeping Angel I need to take care of."

#tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor x you #doctor who x reader #the doctor x reader #the doctor x you #reader insert #doctor who fic #doctor who fanfiction #doctor who #the doctor #david tennant #canon typical peril #catch and release prompt

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thestoryofella · 6 months ago

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hi ellaaaa !!! :] im here requesting another steve harrington (or fred weasley if u want variety !!) drabble type thing again lol ! i was wondering if u could write smth abt the reader going to visit him at work and they're in an arm sling and he's just generally shocked ? u don't have to of course, i was just curious cause i fractured my elbow yesterday after trying to skateboard and i fell really hard on the concrete 😭 i got an arm sling today and i don't need help but people keep offering it (i appreciate it but i can do things fairly normally !!)

tysm !! -☄️

thank you for requesting; I hope your arm feels better now! <3

warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, swearing

steve harrington x reader ✿ 1025 words

You had tried not to fall; you really had. After seeing Max skateboard across town on a beat-up skateboard that never left her side, you decided it would be of utmost convenience to be able to glide in between houses and stores on a similar board. It was only a bonus that you might look cool doing it.

Thus, you find yourself practicing riding a skateboard on a hill entirely too large for your skill level. You had meant to stop at the stop sign, which usually signaled the end of your block, but you found yourself rapidly gaining speed, flying past the stop sign, and then flying down a hill that resembled a mountain–or a children's slide if you were being realistic.

Given your speed, you rapidly hurtled down the hill, and any efforts to stop were futile. You crashed into a storm drain and were quickly thrown backward. Your elbow, unfortunately, took the brunt of the impact. After a tearful phone call to your best friend and a doctor's visit, you found yourself in an arm sling that was entirely too embarrassing to mention to your boyfriend.

Steve was cool, aside from his seeming default dad-like poses, and you couldn't bring yourself to tell him about your accident or show him, for that matter. You were committed to doing everything yourself and not having to recount your fall.

With your busy college schedule & Steve's job at Family Video, this was easy for a while. You resorted to texting him during the week, praying that your injury would be healed before the weekend came, and you both would undoubtedly want to spend lazy afternoons together to make up for the lost time.

During the week, you buried your head in books, took acetaminophen to reduce the pain, and faithfully elevated your arm to reduce the swelling–which previously made it resemble a turkey leg, the flesh around your elbow ballooning to uncomfortable levels.

It was Thursday when you got a text from Steve that read: You better come into Family Video. The movie we rented on Friday is due for return! At that moment, you knew that your antics had ended. Plus, given your student budget, you couldn't afford late fees.

When you read the message, you sent a silent glare to the VHS that sat woefully unaware, tucked underneath the TV in your college house. If you just had a few more days to heal, you could've been out of the arm sling before Saturday. But no, the VHS return you procrastinated upon injuring yourself the day after your movie night had come to bite you in the ass.

Even worse, morning classes had made it impossible to avoid Steve at Family Video–though deep down, you knew the news would've spread to him through the source of his chatty coworkers. Begrudgingly, you walked to Family Video, mirroring the form of a wounded animal, the VHS tucked into a spare tote bag that sat loosely on your undamaged arm, head hung slightly in defeat.

By the time you reach the store, the only thing keeping you calm is the gentle tweets of birds that flutter in and out of your hearing. You also feel increasingly guilty for keeping this from Steve. It probably wouldn't have done much damage to your reputation in his eyes. However, the thought of his doting getting more excessive made heat creep up your neck and into your ears–which may constitute one reason for your antics.

Walking inside the store, you fight the urge to curse as the bell above your head dings, immediately alerting the workers to your presence. Usually, this was helpful for quick service. But now? You want to crawl into a hole and stay there.

Looking upwards as you walk towards the counter, you meet Steve's face with a sheepish grin. Taking in your form like he usually does before seeing you makes you think all is well until his eyes fall on your arm. Upon seeing your sling, his eyebrows lift incredulously to his forehead, and he develops wrinkles that better suit a man twice his age.

His mouth opens and closes a few times before he manages to sputter out, "What happened to you?" It's a tone laced with shock, not anger, but perhaps a twinge of amusement. Although he doesn't find your misfortune funny, he thinks it's characteristic that you have managed to hurt yourself since the last time you saw him.

You laugh at his tone before rubbing your face with your good hand. "Okay, I'll tell you, but you can't laugh because it's really embarrassing." You decide that making a bargain is your best bet and scan his eyes for trust before continuing.

He offers his pinky as if to say: I promise I won't. But, he truthfully doesn't know.

You breathe in before unleashing your story. "So, last weekend–"

He cuts you off, "Last weekend?! You've had your arm in a sling since last weekend?"

You give him a pointed look, a warning to stop interrupting you before telling the rest of your story, including your ambitions to look as cool as Max riding her skateboard–which probably could have been excluded.

Surprisingly, Steve keeps his word and doesn't laugh once as you recall the events. Although a glint of amusement shines in his honeyed eyes, he feels more sad than anything he didn't know sooner. When you've finished, he walks around the counter to pull you into his chest.

"I wish you would've told me sooner; I would've come to your place to care for you." He emphasizes his point by pressing a kiss on your hair and a frown on his lips.

"It was just so embarrassing to have to say out loud," you mutter into his shirt, the cotton material pressing against your cheek.

He pulls away to grab around your shoulders, offering you a stern but kind look. "I would never judge you, even if you didn't successfully learn how to skateboard."

He's so sincere it almost makes you laugh. You smile, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I know," you respond, and you're telling the truth.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington hurt/comfort #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x reader hurt/comfort #stranger things #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington scenario

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mariacallous · 3 months ago

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Celeste Borys and Kira Lynch don’t leave the house much these days. When they do venture into their small Utah communities—to go grocery shopping, to take their kids to school or the playground—neighbors whisper and stare. “I’ve had people take pictures and videos of me, and I've had someone come up and yell at me,” Lynch says. “Someone at my daughter’s junior high told me to keep my mouth shut and called me some bad names. It’s terrifying.”

“I don’t leave unless I have to,” says Borys. “My day-to-day life doesn’t exist.”

The man whose followers scorn and harass them seems to have no such problems. Long a household name in conservative Mormon circles, Tim Ballard has become nationally known in recent years: He’s the former operative for Homeland Security who says he became so alarmed during the Obama administration by the government’s supposed inaction on child sex trafficking that he decided to go out and fight it on his own, recruiting other true believers to join him on dramatic sting operations in dangerous places, later serving as cochair of the Trump administration’s advisory council on trafficking and ultimately inspiring the heavily fictionalized film Sound of Freedom based on Operation Underground Railroad (OUR), the anti-trafficking organization he founded. (The organization now goes by the name OUR Rescue.)

Ballard is also a defendant in ongoing civil lawsuits in Utah brought by women—Borys and Lynch among them—who allege that he sexually abused them under the guise of saving children. Borys and Lynch have filed police reports regarding their allegations that Ballard sexually assaulted them; Ballard has denied the claims made against him. OUR, which is mentioned in one of the suits, has countersued Borys and her husband.

“This is just a bunch of random details, gossip, and easily disproven falsehoods packaged up to generate some quick clicks,” Ballard’s spokesperson Chad Kolton wrote in response to a request for comment; he also notes that the claims against Ballard in a separate suit have been dismissed. That suit was brought by a veteran Marine who said she was injured at a training overseen by Ballard; a judge ruled she did not have standing to bring it because she had signed a waiver.

While Borys and Lynch mostly stay at home, talking to their families, each other, and their lawyers, Ballard, when not defending himself by claiming he’s the victim of a shakedown, makes regular appearances at high-profile Republican events. He showed up at the Conservative Political Action Conference in February. In March, he joined a Catholic event at Donald Trump’s Mar-a-Lago resort alongside Roger Stone and Michael Flynn. In April, Mar-a-Lago hosted a fundraiser for the Ballard Family Legal Defense Fund. At the Republican National Convention in Milwaukee this summer, he sat for an interview with Trump’s former lawyer, Rudy Giuliani. “The leftist agenda is almost verbatim the pedophile agenda,” said Ballard, grim-faced beneath a cap bearing the logo of Aerial Recovery, a self-described disaster relief and anti-trafficking group with which he now works. “You’ve got supporters here, Tim,” Giuliani told Ballard, adding, a moment later, “Pretty soon, you’re going to have one in the strongest and most powerful position in the world.”

All of this is fairly shocking to Lynch and Borys, who worked with Ballard at OUR. Just last summer, Borys says, she was by Ballard’s side as he crisscrossed Capitol Hill, meeting with Republican legislators about human trafficking and reveling with them in the success of Sound of Freedom, which brought in around $250 million in global ticket sales. “Those people know my face,” she says. “I was in those meetings and on phone calls and texting different people in the congressional world.” By fall, it emerged that Ballard and OUR had parted ways months before, following an investigation into claims of sexual misconduct that employees had made against him. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, a longtime supporter of Ballard, publicly rebuked him for “morally unacceptable” behavior. And in the fall of 2023, accusers filed the first set of lawsuits against Ballard. Yet Ballard’s star on the Trumpist right never dimmed.

“They know what’s going on with him right now,” Borys says. “For them to ignore it but then to promote him, it’s so disgusting to me.”

Lynch met Ballard in 2021, when she was giving him a haircut. She’d seen Sound of Freedom in an early preview but at the time didn’t realize that she was cutting the hair of the man on whose life it was loosely based. All she knew was that he was famous.

“I’m kind of a big deal,” she remembers him telling her; he was taken aback and even offended that she didn’t know more about him. He told her, she says, about the amazing things he did and how children were saved by his operations.

“He’s talking about children and sex slavery,” she says. “I’m a mother of four. I’m like, ‘Oh my gosh.’ I got sucked in right that second.”

When Ballard asked if she wanted to get involved in his mission, Lynch says, she enthusiastically agreed. She had just gone through a crushing divorce, and her father was dying of a brain tumor. Lynch was, she says, “desperate for something to come along and help me spiritually.” Lynch says that Ballard told her that he was close friends with M. Russell Ballard, a high-ranking member of the LDS Church’s second-highest governing body, the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles.

OUR was a powerhouse long before Sound of Freedom appeared in theaters, raising millions of dollars in donations every year from devoted fans. The group’s exploits were frequently exaggerated. At the White House and in op-eds, for example, Ballard told the story of how the group had helped rescue a teenage girl who was trafficked from Mexico to New York and forced into sex work for several years, citing the story as evidence of the need for a border wall; at one point, he said the group had helped her “escape her hell.” In fact, according to court records, the girl rescued herself and didn’t come into contact with OUR until well after she’d escaped her captors.

Additionally, as early as 2020, a letter was circulating in philanthropic circles in Utah accusing Ballard of misconduct toward women. OUR denied everything: In a statement to Vice News at the time, an OUR spokesperson wrote, “OUR categorically denies the baseless allegations made in the anonymous letter shared with Vice. The OUR board of directors received the letter 12 months ago and, after a thorough investigation, found zero evidence to corroborate the allegations contained in the letter.”

In Lynch’s community, Ballard was still regarded as a hero. Members of her family, she says, were fans of Ballard’s; her mother gasped in excitement when she learned that Lynch had just done his hair, and showed her a shelf full of books that Ballard had written. “They were all praising him to the roof,” Lynch says. “Automatically, that put me in a very safe place with him in my head.”

Ballard’s books, several of which were published by an LDS Church–owned imprint and promoted by the conservative influencer Glenn Beck, contributed a great deal to his fame and followed two tracks. On one, he lays out supposed ties between figures from American history like George Washington and Mormonism. On the other, he positions himself as a modern-day abolitionist, part of a line with Harriet Tubman. One book, Operation Toussaint, is an adaptation of a documentary showing Ballard and his associates carrying out paramilitary work in Haiti. Missions like this were the basis of Ballard’s image as the leader of an elite group of operators doing the work governments didn’t dare and wresting sex slaves from the hands of traffickers. (Files from an investigation carried out by a Utah prosecutor and the FBI released under a public records request would later show these missions in a much less glamorous light—detailing, among other things, the role of a psychic medium named Janet Russon in providing intelligence and one of Ballard’s backers groping the naked breasts of a trafficking victim he believed to be a minor.)

Lynch never went on missions with Ballard. She was instead asked, she says—after being told of the visions he’d had of them working together to save children—to participate in training operations in which they went to strip clubs.

The first time, she alleges, Ballard arrived at her house beforehand with a close friend and OUR employee in tow, as well as Ballard’s son. At her house, Ballard asked her to put fake tattoos and eyeliner on him, getting into the undercover persona he used, which he called “Brian Black.” But almost immediately, Lynch says, once Ballard was in character, he began groping her and trying to kiss her body while she asked him to stop and reminded him that his son and friend were waiting. The behavior continued as the two rode in an Uber, Lynch says, which she calls “horrific.”

“He doesn’t listen,” she says. “He gets in this mindset where it's like he doesn’t see or hear you. It’s whatever he wants.”

Borys, for her part, began working with OUR in July of 2022 as a volunteer before moving on to paid roles in October of that year; by the time she left the organization, she was working as Ballard’s executive assistant. She also began secretly going on missions when, she says, Ballard told her he “was in the middle of a trafficking ring operation and needed a new female partner to come in” to play his girlfriend.

This was part of what Ballard has called the “couples ruse,” in which he and a woman would tell traffickers they were romantic partners, and act as such, while on missions. Ballard has claimed this was necessary to ensure that he and other male operators wouldn’t have to engage in sexual behavior with victims or traffickers while undercover.

Almost immediately after agreeing to work as Ballard’s partner, Borys’ affidavit says, she was flown to California to do “ops training,” which consisted of staying in hotels, hot-tubbing at a Four Seasons, doing workouts on the beach, and Ballard showing Borys what kind of physical acts they had to do while “undercover” and what his supposed boundaries were. She describes him lifting her shirt to admire her stomach, complimenting her “hot body,” kissing her on the neck and insisting it was fine since it avoided kissing on the lips, and showing her how he simulated sexual penetration during operations to fool traffickers who might be observing them.

Ballard, her affidavit says, told her that traffickers could “smell pheromones,” and so they needed to have real sexual chemistry in order to fool them. (The affidavit also alleges that Ballard removed his temple garment, which observant members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints wear under their clothes, telling her “he sees angels all around, and that this isn't wrong.”)

Their first practice operation happened in Mexico, the affidavit says, where she was forced to get a couples massage with Ballard that culminated in a female massage therapist touching her in a sexual way while she froze, closed her eyes, and waited for it to be over. “I heard Tim say he had never seen this done so close and he was getting a lesson,” Borys writes in the affidavit.

"Within seconds, once I was there, I found myself in a situation where I didn't even have time to get out of it,” she says. “I was just staring at him for help.” Afterward, she recalls, she wept, and he told her, “We’re going to save so many kids, you have no idea.’”

Borys doesn’t believe these missions ever led to the rescue of a child. They nonetheless persisted—as did, her affidavit says, not just sexually abusive but spiritually manipulative behavior. Borys, who was raised a Latter-day Saint but is no longer practicing—”I’m so glad you’re not LDS anymore,” she remembers him saying—became enmeshed with Russon, the psychic medium. (Russon did not respond to a request for comment.)

“My life revolved around Janet and her readings,” Borys says; Russon would claim to channel her grandmother and allegedly encourage her and other operators not to worry about taking part in sexualized behavior.

“Janet would say, ‘Our bodies are just bodies, and God gave us bodies to use them to go save kids,’” Borys says.

Ballard, Lynch says, would also frequently assure her while touching her inappropriately that they were doing the right thing, saying things like “I know this is hard, but God will be with us,” and “we’re bringing light into dark places.” He also explicitly told her, she says, that the couples ruse was sanctioned by both God and M. Russell Ballard. (The denunciation LDS Church leadership issued of Tim Ballard in 2023 cited “the unauthorized use of President Ballard’s name for Tim Ballard’s personal advantage and activity regarded as morally unacceptable.”)

The allegations are not limited to the workings of couples ruse. At one point, Lynch’s affidavit says, Ballard came over to her house and sexually assaulted her on her staircase—something her lawyers say she reported to authorities in the fall of 2023, after joining the civil suit. (The following day, in text messages to her that WIRED has viewed, he asked to come by and pick up his belt, which he’d left lying on her floor.)

In early July, the women’s legal team filed a motion in which they say the state crime lab told them that DNA found on Borys’ skirt matched Ballard’s. (Borys alleges that Ballard sexually assaulted her and ejaculated on her leather skirt.) The motion urged the court to instruct the Utah County Sheriff’s Office to turn over the crime lab analysis to Borys’ legal team.

(In a statement to Utah outlet Fox 13, Ballard’s team accused Borys’ legal team of tainting a criminal investigation, asserting this was “consistent with the other illegal and unethical behavior that has been a hallmark of the Borys case.” Janet Russon, meanwhile, appeared on a podcast called The Last Dispensation and suggested that Ballard’s semen could have been found on her skirt because the two shared a suitcase. )

It took a while, Borys says, before she began to view herself as a victim of sexual misconduct. “I remember doing something on an op and I was so scared to go do this specific thing,” she says, her voice breaking. “And right before, all I could think was, ‘If little kids are having to do this, I can do this.’”

She would go home at night and make dinner—“trying to compartmentalize,” she says, while also texting with alleged traffickers on a burner phone.

“I would think I was doing good in the world,” she says. And she desperately wanted to see something tangible from the work—a “win,” she adds. “I felt so conflicted and dirty. I wanted that win so all the dirtiness would go away.”

At this time, Ballard’s reputation as a heroic anti-trafficking expert was at a peak. His rhetoric around trafficking—that it’s the world’s largest criminal enterprise, carried out with impunity due to the negligence and incompetence of the federal government generally and Democrats specifically—had become incredibly popular. QAnon believers took a particular interest, especially after Ballard appeared to support a false conspiracy theory that furniture company Wayfair sold children online by saying that “with or without Wayfair,” the selling of children online was “common.” (Jim Caviezel, who played Ballard in Sound of Freedom, has lent overt support to QAnon beliefs; Ballard, he claimed, taught him that traffickers extract a substance from children’s bodies that “elites” then inject to preserve their own youth. An OUR spokesperson denied at the time that Ballard had explained this to Caviezel.) As this was playing out, the QAnon-tinged Save the Children movement became a driving force in Republican politics, and Ballard himself began to eye a run for the US Senate.

In 2023, Ballard quietly parted ways with OUR following an investigation into claims of sexual misconduct that employees made against him. Lynch, who was not an employee, has a hazy memory of the time but remembers telling friends of an OUR employee that inappropriate things had happened. They, she says, told their friend, who then reported it to human resources. (Her lawyer, Suzette Rasmussen, confirms this sequence of events.)

Borys became Ballard’s executive assistant in early 2023. She was walled off, she says, from other OUR employees. When the investigation began, she knew little about it and was told that its scope was limited to a report made by one woman and would go away. It wasn’t until after she’d quit OUR, and after she’d seen attorney Suzette Rasmussen on TV discussing a suit the pseudonymous women she was representing had filed against Ballard in civil court in Utah, that she really began to process her experiences.

“I was still trying to understand all the stuff I had been going through working for him,” she says. “Once I saw Suzette, I felt like she was my safest place I could go to to protect myself.”

It wasn’t until after she’d gotten out of Ballard’s orbit, blocked his phone number, and filed a lawsuit, Borys says, that she started to understand how traumatized she was. “I was listening to a police officer doing a podcast or on the news, and he said you don’t get to—” here she pauses, and starts to cry. “You don’t get to create a victim by saving victims. And that really hit me.”

The legal process is ongoing; in addition to the suits and criminal investigation, Borys and Lynch have filed for permanent protective orders against Ballard, which currently await the scheduling of evidentiary hearings.

The two are also still very much processing their experiences not just with Ballard but with OUR, which neither now believes was ever a legitimate child-rescue operation.

“Where’s the proof?” asks Borys. “There just isn’t any proof, and when you try to talk to anyone about it who still works there and believes it, it’s like Tim Ballard—red in the face, flustered and frustrated. Instead of answering questions, they fire back at you.”

WIRED provided a detailed list of questions to Chad Kolton, a spokesperson for Tim Ballard. In response, Kolton wrote, in part, “I started responding to each of these and then reconsidered as it seems like a waste of time … There is absolutely nothing new about Tim’s work with Republicans which he’s done openly for years because they actually want to do something about the problem of trafficking rather than denying it exists. The cases against him have begun to fall apart, with one already dismissed and another facing an evidentiary hearing about serious allegations of illegal and unethical conduct by the plaintiff and her attorneys.”

OUR did not respond to a request for comment from WIRED.

“I hope he goes to jail,” Lynch says. “That’s a really honestly hard thing to say, and it’s been hard to understand that might happen. I have to realize it’s not me putting him in jail. It’s not us. It’s him and what he did.”

She also, she says, simply wants the truth to be known.

“Nobody deserves to go through something like this, and someone like him doesn’t deserve to be on a presidential campaign or speaking engagements,” she says. “He doesn’t deserve that right right now.”

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midnightmayhem13 · 1 year ago

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Hi lovely! Could I request giving the marvel ladies the silent treatment plsss <33

I just want it back the way it was before

i feel like being sad girl today😔 so you guys are gonna do it with me🩶❕ thank you lovely anon

carol danvers

first carol thinks you're playing a joke on her. but when she tells you you're favorite joke or pickup line, and you don't giggle the way you usually, carol literally has a panic attack. she freaks out and thinks if everything she might've done to puss you off. she'll then forget about it and just try to apologize. she'll buy you flowers and set up a date. if you still ignore her gesture she'll literally get on her knees and start freaking out, begging you to forgive her. when you do she'll hold you close and plead you to talk to her next time.

sharon carter

first of all she gets a little pissy herself. cmon you two are adults and capable of talking it out. but then she'll realize, you love her to pieces, you're the sweetest person ever, she definitely did something. she'd leave you alone for a little, let you cool down. then she'd want to talk about it. "what's going on baby?" and she'll sit there and wait until you're ready to confess. and if you're not she'll reassure it's okay and apologize for anything she might've done. she'll wait until you're ready.

darcy lewis

when the love of her life gives her the silent treatment, darcy definitely has a breakdown. she'll start spiraling and wondering if you're gonna end things. she'll blame herself, even if it's not her fault and you're just going through things. her smile would fade so fast when she realized what was happening. she'll be asking so many, which you do not respond you, and will freak out when you just walk away. when you're asleep that night, she stroke her hair and silently beg for you to forgive her. if it takes a while she'll back off and might get a little mad. but ultimately she'll be so relieved when you speak to her again. you two both apologize and yk make up;)

nevula

nebula will be confused asf. she'll ask if you have been silenced by some sort of spell or something. when you don't respond she'll leave you alone. then when she tries to talk to you again and you don't respond, she'll try to ply the answer out of you. you have to speak to her again at some point. when that doesn't work, she resorts to her expertise. she'll corner you and ask you why you aren't speaking to her, she might get mad but wouldn't hurt you out of her anger. if you say it's bc of something she did she'll apologize and hold you close. "i am sorry my love".

maria hill

first maria will chuckle. "what's going on babe?" then when you turn and walk away she'll get confused. okay? she'll follow you and watch you from afar. watching you live you're life in silence. she'll ask a simple question of what happened. when you don't respond she'll get more specific asking if something happened on a mission or if someone said something. when you stay silent she'll come close and force you in a hug. you don't push, but don't say anything. she'll hold you close and try to sooth any anger or sadness she may have caused. "was it me baby?" if you don't respond she'll leave it alone and just hold you. if you nod she'll nod back and promise to do better and make it up.

kate bishop

when you walk away and ignore kate when she says something to you she'll go wide eyed and give you a suprised puppy look. she'll scramble to get to you. she'll grab you by the shoulder and stare into youre eyes. questioning what she did, it doesn't come out smoothly, she stutters it out. she definitely follows you like a desperate dog begging you to explain. was it her? "princess did i do something?" then she'll give you a moment. but she won't leave youre side. you could sit for hours ignoring her presence but she wouldn't leave you for a second, not until you talk it out.

#carol danvers x reader #sharon carter x reader #darcy lewis x reader #nebula x reader #maria hill x reader #kate bishop x reader #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #wlw

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ww2yaoi · 7 months ago

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[I caved and started writing a webgott fic even though I'm 23 years late. this ground has definitely been traversed before but I'm an advocate for the webgott 2024 renaissance. here's a taste]

The war is over, and still, David and Joe are butting heads, velvet-shed antlers clashing like rival bucks during rutting season.

David’s not sure what he expected. He thought after the exultation of taking Berchtesgaden and raiding it of its liquour and silverware Joe might lighten up. He’d smiled so much that day, drank vintage champagne straight from the bottle, tore down Nazi flags and ripped them to ribbons. Something had broken in him at Landsberg, David knows that much, but he’d been hopeful that as the war tempered so too would Joe’s ire. Now he knows he’d been naive to think so.

Joe parks the Jeep outside the hotel where they’re billeted and wrestles the keys from the ignition. He climbs out and slams the door without another word, jump boots clomping against the cobblestones as he stalks away. David sits silently in the passenger’s side, Skinny’s eyes burning holes in the back of his head. He presses his lips into a thin line, sucks them between his teeth and bites down.

Captain Speirs had no right to give that order, least of all to Joe. They had no reason to keep fighting, no reason to dirty their hands when the old blood stains still linger. Leave that to the MPs and the military tribunals, their war was supposed to be over.

David gets out of the Jeep but decides not to follow after Joe. He knows the more he seeks Joe out, the more Joe will push him away. Instead, he walks, weaving through the streets of Zell am See, past shops and cafes and chalets all untouched by the ravages of war. Hitler’s home country, the birthplace of so much death and destruction, and it has the ersatz gloss of a resort town. The irony is not lost on David. He’ll write about it later if he gets the chance.

Birds chirp in the trees. Locals stroll past him, well-dressed in their spring clothes and chatting away jovially amongst themselves. They regard him without much fanfare, used to the sight of American soldiers by now. The water of Lake Zell is so blue it makes David’s eyes ache. He fishes his cigarettes from the pocket of his paratrooper jacket and slides one into his mouth, fiddling with his Zippo until the flame sparks and lights the tip.

The first inhale brings David back to the mountains, that cabin on the hill, chickens clucking in their pen. The hit of nicotine had done little to calm his nerves as Joe shouted at the kommandant in his Austrian-tinged German. David had just about jumped out of his skin when the shot rang out and the kommandant burst from the cabin, bleeding from his neck. Joe had bled from his neck in Holland. He has the scar to prove it. Sometimes, when they’re sitting side-by-side in the truck and Joe’s not looking, David will stare at it, curling his fist at his side to stop himself from reaching out and smoothing his thumb over the puckered skin.

He keeps walking, smoking his cigarette down to the filter. Eventually, he comes upon a church, throwing his cigarette to the ground and stamping it out. The imposing wooden doors are open to let the tepid May air waft inside. David steps across the threshold and the piquant smell of incense hits his nose, olibanum and myrrh.

The church is empty except for a custodian sweeping the floor by the pulpit, but the man eventually disappears into a room at the back. David sits at the pew closest to the door, the knotty wood ungiving against his back. He admires the stained glass windows, cyan and crimson and gold with the pious faces of saints. The apses vault high above him, the air that rains down from the rafters drafty and filled with dust motes. It would be easy to imagine what this place would look like had the fighting swept through here, but David tries not to. It’s too beautiful a church for that kind of exercise.

David let his Catholicism lapse years ago, before the war even started really. His family was never that religious, only attending services on Christmas and Easter, but David prays now. He doesn’t go as far as kneeling on the tuffet or even interlocking his fingers, but pray he does, letting his eyes flutter closed for a moment. He asks God, if there even is one, to take Joe’s pain and put it elsewhere, to spare him the anger and the hurt, the need for revenge that undoubtedly itches underneath his skin. He’s sure if Joe knew what he was doing, sitting here asking his Christian god to save a Jew, he would laugh in his face, but David’s not ashamed of it. If anything, he’s desperate. He’s not sure if Joe is ever going to speak to him again, even though he’s well aware that Joe tends to run hot only to cool back down a few days later.

Maybe this time is different though. Maybe this is what finally breaks the unsturdy bridge David has built between them since he missed Bastogne, possibly to the point of irreparability. He sits there, trying to parse what he feels. Perhaps it would be a relief to let their friendship shatter in his unwieldy hands. No more tiptoeing around Joe’s persistent bitterness, his bad moods that seem to bubble up with the slightest prodding. Then again, David doesn’t think it’d be a relief at all. He’s not even angry at Joe. If anything, he’s upset they’re still here after the Germans have surrendered, stuck cleaning up a mess that was never theirs in the first place.

Sometimes, David is so angry he forgets to breathe. Was he like this before the war? He can barely remember. Back at Harvard, he used to get heated in his classes, arguing passionately with his peers about Proust or Dostoevsky, but he knew how trivial it was even then. It was just a game he liked to play, something to make the hours he spent stuck in lecture halls go by faster. He doubts there’s anything he can do here to make the time pass quicker. There’s probably nothing Joe can do either.

With that, David gets up from the pew and exits the church. He steps back into the golden blare of the Austrian sunshine, headed towards Easy’s billet.

#webgott #david webster #joe liebgott #band of brothers #my fic

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 9 months ago

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here is a little introduction to the original fantasy world i came up with for the eflorr trilogy.

series masterlist | pinterest board | playlist | masterlist

Welcome to the world of Tyhmalaa. Our stories take place on the continent of Aton where the two major kingdoms (Eflorr and Obelón) have had a feud spanning decades.

here is a little list of facts to give you a sense of what kind of realm this is:

currency: platinum, gold, silver and copper

monsters: yes

magic: no

calendar: the year is just divided by the four seasons (each with 90 days in them) with 7 days in a week (Moonsday, Tidesday, Windsday, Thundersday, Fogsday, Stormsday and Solarsday) and the year shift is on the longest night of the year on the 30th day of winter

year the first story begins: 856 PR (post-rimesunder, an ancient white dragon that once froze the entire continent of Efira for 2 centuries till he was slain)

climate: the weather in Aton goes through all four of the standard seasons (sping, summer, autumn and winter), though most of the stories take place on the northern side of the continent, so it is on the colder side.

religions: there are multiple gods people worship (some notable ones are: Apa – goddess of wilderness and the sea, Kotris – goddess of knowledge, Cicero – god of war and peace, Zondür – god of atonement and love, Sona – goddess of life and death)

kingdoms on the continent: Eflorr (capital: Borün) and Obelón (capital: Ingorn)

maps and doodles:

it took me around 30 hours of work to draw all of these, but it was super meditative.

map of the continent of Aton.

⊠ squares = capitals

⊗ circles = smaller towns

△ triangles = speciality locations

the continent of Efira is located to the north east of Aton.

Fort Borün. The ivy-covered stone castle on the top of the cliff is home of the royal family of Eflorr.

Elm Square. The beating heart of Borün, it is not only a central meeting place for all, but also the district where the majority of the city's shops, taverns, etc are. The town square gets especially sparkly during the seasonal festivals with booths are stalls crowding the market.

Willow Grove Cemetery. As the name would suggest, a large weeping willow tree grounds this cemetery that it is built around. Although Eflorr as a whole commonly isn't very religious, this graveyard does house a few alters and shrines to various deities.

The Valerian Ward. You'll find all manner of schools, museums, as well as Borün's beautiful aquarium in this part of town.

The Port of Borün. The city's docks are always bustling with excitement and possibilities.

The Western Farms. Up on the hill that swiftly blossoms into The Noll Woods, are a plethora of rolling fields and cosy cottages.

The Beach. Down the little steps on the northern side of the docks is not the only way to access this cove. Though the steep path some way further north is no secret, not everyone is privileged to the knowledge that the castle's cellar opens up into a cave system that leads out onto the beach. Created as a safety measure and a last resort for the royals to escape, the tunnels most commonly got used by the young royals as a daring playground.

The Tulip Neighbourhood. The homes in this part of town have generous courtyards that bring the households together.

The Dandelion Quarter. Part residential, this neighbourhood also houses a grand park (The Riverview Public Park), where combat courses/training are held every weekend, as well as The Water Lily Orphanage.

The Snowdrop Sector. For those not inclined for the bustle of the city's centre but still want to live close enough to the action often settle down in a little cottage out in this district. Many also chose to retire out here, living out the rest of their days in a cabin by the sea.

The Barracks. Through the main gate lies a grand courtyard to welcome you to the castle. The surrounding buildings are designated mainly for the wardens. There are living quarters for them, training areas, armoury, small stables that also house the royal horses, as well as the city's small garrison.

The Western Wing. In here lies many of the more public spaces: throne room, ballroom, banquet hall, servants quarters, the kitchen, war room, the meeting room that's utilised mostly for gatherings with the town council.

The Conservatory. This secluded greenhouse was built as a memorial to King Edward III. who apparently had quite the green thumb.

The Topiary Garden. A private courtyard separating the two main buildings is a serene space where one can come sit on a small bench and listen to the trickling water of the fountain in the centre.

The Eastern Wing. This part of the castle is home to the royal's private chambers as well as numerous other spaces such as the library.

The castle also has a basement that's not only utilised for storage (both of common items as well as the most precious that's kept safe in the grand vault) it also connects to a tunnel system that leads all the way out onto the beach.

#eflorr au #lea’s writing

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gasolinerainbowpuddles · 2 months ago

Text

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘚𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘍𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 ║ ⓞⓝⓔ๏ⓞⓕⓕⓢ

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This Side of Forever

| PAIRING(s): Marcus Pike x fem!OC Bodie Edunn

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT: 6.6k | CONTENT: angsty!Marcus throughout, pining?, Bodie talks a lil whimsical but that’s bc she’s based on a Goddess ok?, half of this is me self-therapizing, lots of allusions to magic and fruit, following your dreams, is somebody gonna match my freak? vibes, accepting fate, overly sentimental bc it’s Marcus duh

| SYNOPSIS: After back to back failed relationships, Marcus tries to find meaning and distraction in his work. When he's presented with an offer that appears to be a nudge in a whole new direction, he isn't sure he can make the leap of faith.

The consultation offer had come through at just the right time. Marcus had been burnt out with his work despite the change in scenery and job title. As it turned out, being head of the International Art Theft Task Force in D.C. wasn’t a whole lot more gratifying than being Special Agent Marcus Pike with the Austin Art Squad Unit. It was a bitter pill to swallow, the rhapsodic thrill of getting a second chance at love and life in Texas turning to nothing more than ash and heartache come Virginia.

It was torment being back in Austin for an assignment and learning that he’d ultimately been nothing more than a bridge for his would-be fiancé and her now other half to finally realize what they felt for one another. It was hard to believe this was the same woman who had told him that night at dinner she, too, felt the same things for him. That she couldn’t deny their chemistry and connection. He loved that she was independent and really thought about his offer to move to D.C. with him before she’d accepted.

And then he’d gone and followed his heart again with the proposal. The words felt like poison clinging to his lips almost the moment he uttered them, her expression one of stunned anxiety making his stomach turn. Then it all seemed okay again when she said she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him, too. Looking back it was easier to see that she didn’t feel as strongly for him as he did for her, but in the moment he’d thought that maybe it was just a lot for her to take in. He had a tendency to be too much for the people he cared about.

He spent a lot of time in the aftermath of the breakup lamenting over every word and action, playing them over and over again in his head to try to figure out where he’d gone wrong, but he couldn’t bring himself to fully regret honoring his emotions in the moment. He’d been forthright and honest from the start with her because it felt real. It was real. Until it all fell apart.

So, he finished his assignment and returned home to D.C. with nothing but an empty, cold apartment waiting for him. The thought of just leaving all this behind and starting over from scratch was becoming more and more appealing. The ghosts of the past followed him everywhere, and it was beginning to feel like he’d always be chasing some phantom of a dream that resembled happiness. His voluntary sabbatical might not have been the best idea with all this inner turmoil brewing, but he had to take a step back and at least attempt to get himself together. The third night in a row of packaged ramen noodles for dinner, ass firmly parked on the couch with reruns of Antiques Roadshow playing back to back, her email had come through.

He read it twice to make sure it hadn’t been sent in error. As the sole owner of the wildly successful spa and wellness center Eternity Hill Orchard, Bodie Edunn was looking for a consultant regarding the yet to be established Art Director position and coinciding Art Program for her resort. A former colleague and shared mutual had passed his name along to her with a soft endorsement for the job. The referral name checked out and everything seemed legitimate, but Marcus had been burned too many times to believe his luck could be this good.

A phone call with her the next day had that thought going right out the window. He could hear the smile in her voice and how genuinely excited she was that he received the offer and reached out. Before he knew it, agreements were outlined and plans were made. The last few weeks of his sabbatical were going to be spent back and forth between the few hours of travel from D.C. to the mountains of Virginia where Eternity Hill Orchard was located.

The payday was already enough of an incentive, but the picturesque scenery as the vehicle climbed switchback roads wasn’t too bad, either. The ascent felt like he was heading to some other world entirely, and perhaps given the constant grind of life in D.C., this was a completely different life up here in the mountains. His first step onto the grounds already felt energizing, the inhale of fresh air crisp in his lungs.

He could just make out a distant figure atop a rather grand set of steps leading up to a striking manor structure. It was somehow modern and antique all at once, as if it had been built here so long ago that it simply transcended the concept of time. Lush greenery at every opening and slope gave an impression of liveliness and growth. Small, warm white bulbs danced in the darker recesses of the flora, and Marcus could imagine the balmy, intimate glow it would emit come nighttime.

Despite the impressive scene, he found himself eagerly skimming back to the figure coming into focus as they climbed down the stairs towards him. The pictures and videos he’d seen of her on the website did no justice to the firsthand encounter. He’d thought it was high quality editing – something to sell the whole wellness image the business touted - but seeing her here in person made it clear there was no alteration involved.

It was hard to pinpoint an age, but she looked like she’d sipped on every enchanted youth tonic from every fairytale ever told. A “glow from within” hue to her skin. Soft, supple curvature of pink appled cheeks. Piercing but kind green eyes. A sharp mouth with a delicate cupid’s bow, all balancing the mesmerizing smile underneath.

How old was she? How could someone establish and develop this level of business acumen all before the age of 50? Was she just the face of the business while some gnarled, hunched octogenarian hid away in the shadows and counted his payday? Was she some sort of trust fund baby? Was this all just an elaborate babysitting project to keep her out of the trouble that wealthy, bored children often found themselves in?

“Marcus, I’m so glad you made it,” Bodie softly greets him as she makes it to the bottom of the stairs. She envelops him before he has time to insist on a handshake, pulling back after a moment and rubbing each of his biceps in a welcoming gesture.

He isn’t sure where to put his hands, and he internally cringes at the realization of just how touch starved he is. His mouth feels a little dry, and he can only attribute some of that to the higher altitude. “Wow. Hi. I mean– Yes. You’re– It’s beautiful,” he responds a little breathlessly. “Glad to be here.”

The mischievous twinkle in her eyes blooms into the grin curving her mouth. “I’m partial, of course, but I really think there’s nowhere else as special as here. I hope you’ll come to find the same thing.”

The closer she was to him, the thinner the air felt. The sun cast a hazy blur of light around her long flax tresses, forming a little halo of brightness that made her seem all the more ethereal and divine. Bodie had several science degrees according to the website, although it didn’t say from where or when. Maybe this place was the real deal after all. Usually these retreat spaces offered little more than a whopping dose of placebo laden manipulations meant to drain desperate people’s wallets. He tried not to be so jaded about it all, very much aware of the more bitter version of himself he’d been morphing into for the past several months.

Obliging staff appeared from nowhere and whisked his things away. He really didn’t care where his things were going or where he was being led as he walked along quietly while Bodie conducted a guided tour of the grounds and the buildings. She carried herself so effortlessly and spoke so confidently. None of it sounded rehearsed, either, as they both meandered through the picturesque backdrop of the plot. She shared all the history of the resort and the scientific approach to wellness that incorporated the native resources as much as possible.

Everything he sees is nothing short of magnificent. He can envision sitting out here and painting a quick oil landscape while Bodie sits nearby and chats. He can hear her unwavering knowledge and commentary in his mind’s eye, but he forces himself to focus on the present. The sprawling backdrop of mountains and trees and orchards frame the welcoming facilities and services here. An expansive natural swimming pond lined with large rocks that lead to private cabanas and plush lounge chairs. He wonders if Bodie ever goes swimming.

An indoor heated pool with adjacent teak sauna. Three stories worth of amenities built right into the mountainside with multiple buildings above that she explains are guest rooms. One building has a long, shared balcony with large potted trees and rooftop gardens. The other building has private balconies with big, round lounge beds and floor to ceiling fireplaces. He wonders which one of them is hers and what she sees when she wakes every morning.

The winding decks that slope into each other feel endless, and yet Marcus could enjoy hours of hearing her talk about anything and everything. It was infectious and calming, almost like walking through an art museum and discovering all the tiny surprise gems amongst the overarching beauty of artistry. Even the staff looked young in the way of someone who has never experienced a day of stress in their life. They don plain uniforms – soft white linen shirts with loose taupe colored pants – with some sporting half aprons or utility belts, depending on their job.

It was one thing for every patron thus far to look relaxed and content, but the workers also appearing well and youthful? How on earth did Bodie manage all of this? She was still talking about some sort of zero gravity massage clinic when the intrusive thoughts got the better of him.

“So how old are you anyway?” he blurts out.

The back of his neck blazes with embarrassment, but he forces himself to maintain eye contact. She smiles at him again in that easy sort of way, and his stomach flips. Whatever secret restorative methods she had up here were certainly doing something to him. Either that or he hadn’t adjusted to the altitude yet.

“I’m thirty one,” she answers graciously.

His jaw parts, all agog and inelegant, while she titters and waves off his unspoken compliment.

“I apologize for the question. I’m usually not so–” He motions with his hand aimlessly in the air, floundering for a coherent end to his sentence. “Your methods and programs are obviously very effective.”

“I guess you could say between the mountain air and enough apples a day to keep the doctor away for a lifetime…,” she trails off and shrugs with a lopsided smile.

God, he could really get used to seeing that. It made his knees all jittery every time she directed that energy his way. He’s so wrapped up in it that he misses something she said and has to ask her to repeat herself.

“I said: I’m proud of everything we’ve built here, but I’m always looking for what else we can incorporate to enhance the experience,” she says again. “It’s always been a sort of bad habit of mine, always looking for something to take everything to the next level.”

She doesn't even know how much it resonates with him when she says it. If he had to identify a singular fault of his, it would be the hope of the next best thing. He had a well-worn pattern of romanticizing things and letting his thoughts run away, all buoyant and hopeful. A big part of that had been stripped from him after the failed marriage, divorce, and then failed proposal, but maybe that was for the best. Maybe he wouldn’t get hurt so much if he didn’t put himself so far out there.

“I get what you mean,” he commiserates. “It can be hard to feel like you’ve done all you can. That you’ve upturned every stone and made something as good as it can be.”

Bodie eyes him thoughtfully and, after a moment of contemplation, nods. “Yes. Exactly. That’s exactly it.”

“So, am I the ‘taking it to the next level’ in this equation?” he jokes, attempting to steer the conversation back to the consultation at hand and away from things that remind him of past failures.

Her grin is devastating and intoxicating, and Marcus turns a lovely shade of pink at the poor phrasing of his question.

“I-I meant– not me personally. I meant the art director and art program,” he stammers. “You know, me being here to help with that.”

“Something like that,” she replies with a gentle laugh.

It’s not until she’s finished showing him around and walking him to his private suite that his head feels clear. Every syllable that fell from her lips felt like a tugging thread, whipstitching musings and what-could-be’s across the divots in his mind and suturing them together with thoughts of her cinched in between and tucked away tight. The feeling doesn’t let up over the next few days where every interaction with her feels like he’s had the wind knocked out of him.

This wasn’t the same sort of draw he’d experienced before with his ex-wife and ex- fiancé. This was the opposite pole of the magnet hurtling towards him and grabbing hold. This was some sameness, some kindred nucleus of existence. A funhouse mirror reflecting parts of himself back, a warped delineation. Something metaphysical and mystic putting him exactly where he was meant to be: here in this side of paradise with Bodie coming to drip soothing words of perpetuity into his ear. He belonged here, although he couldn’t exactly explain why or how he knew it to be true.

It took everything in him to focus on the task at hand. He’s better acquainted after a couple of days with the grounds, resort scheduling, and “wellness lifestyle” habits being taught and practiced. He wasn’t expecting the legitimacy in some of the newer programs, like the accredited and licensed therapists onsite who conduct group sessions as well as individualized, immersive sessions for select guests. The idea of an art based therapy program felt like a natural addition, according to Bodie. It was the “next logical step” in what Eternity Hill Orchard could offer, and he couldn’t agree more.

By the time he knew it, he’d extended his stay by three more days, but she didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. In fact, she seemed delighted that he was even able to. For some reason, he divulged his voluntary sabbatical from work and the fact that he was only able to take this job because of it. She’d simply smiled warmly and said it “sounded like fate.”

It should’ve been hokey. It should’ve been an eyeroll the moment she turned away. Instead, he found himself inclined to agree. Throughout his rapid appraisal of the resort, it started feeling less like work and more like a challenge, something stimulating and meaningful. The overwhelming sense of magic in the atmosphere had him questioning himself almost daily. He’d take breaks from his assignment and join Bodie in several of the offerings at the resort, and every time without fail his head felt cloudy and light and elastic. He hadn’t felt this way since his first few months in the FBI when the world was laid at his feet for the taking.

He almost wished this bubble would pop already so he could fall back to reality, but day after day it remained intact. Gentle brushes of her hand. Leaning closer when they spoke. Angling her body towards him whenever he sat down next to her – and there somehow was always an empty seat, like she’d saved it just for him. The warm, dizzying embrace the first day he got here was just the beginning of an endless well. He wanted so badly to know how her lips would feel against his. He tried to stop himself imagining the sorts of sounds he could pull from her, all the ways he could make her feel good. They could fall asleep here every night together, dreaming up new programs and projects.

As much as he wanted to stretch out his time with her, he loathed the idea of wearing out his welcome or, worse yet, letting hope fester long enough to make him entertain all his delusions about a life here. The trek back home to D.C. is tedious and pallid. It’s as though every foot of elevation lost on the ride down leached color and life from the world.

The dreary silence in his apartment might be the worst of all as he sets his things down and takes a long breath – one that doesn’t feel satisfying no matter how deeply he pulls for air. At least there was an objective and a deadline to keep his mind occupied and distracted from his stifling abode. He compiled his recommendations with due heed, never rushing through the retrospection and assessment he was being generously compensated to produce.

He didn’t have any legitimate reason to go back for another visit since he’d extended his initial one by so many days. Any clarifying questions could be answered via email or phone, and it better served his timeline to not travel again right now anyway. The Art Therapy Degree Program tabs in his browser stare loudly back at him. It was initially a portion of his informational findings, but he’d made the mistake of venturing into the curiosity of what it would take for him to obtain such a degree. Turns out, not very much. The extensive training and education accrued throughout his years before and during his life as an Agent meant he was fit for most bridge programs out there.

He didn’t know what to do with this new possibility, and the knowledge of it was more disquieting than anything. The awareness that something else existed out there for him felt cruel and imposing, like it was trying to force his hand to take the leap of faith. He’d done that before, and it’s what got him into the shadowlands in the first place. It started to eat at him the longer he sat with it, and what irked him most was the sole thing he knew would make him feel better: a trip to Eternity Hill Orchard.

He racked his brain for a reason – any reason – to go up there again. He concocted some weak excuse about needing to evaluate some of the spaces before making a final recommendation, and of course Bodie was immediately receptive. He steeled himself to remain professional and impartial about things as he made his way back to the fated resort. His late start out the door meant the sun was nearly setting by the time he arrived, but it was just as enchanting as he remembered it. Bodie wasn’t at the top of the stairs to greet him this time around, but he attempted to quell the disappointment of not seeing her by reminding himself that he was here for work and that he’d see her when it was appropriate. It was bad enough that he’d let his whims bring him here again.

After checking in and getting settled, he figures a walk around the grounds is his best bet at coming across Bodie organically. So, he sets off and silently scouts potential spots for an art studio and corresponding office space. The dwindling daylight makes the endeavor less than fruitful, but he isn’t really focused on it, anyway. He’s really just out here hoping to find her. When he turns onto a secluded pathway off the side of the natural pond, the first instance of dissonance in this place emerges: a man’s aggravated voice. A few beats and then what Marcus thinks might just be Bodie’s more neutral voice. He edges closer to the sound.

“Because it’s bullshit, and you know it,” the man fumes.

“I don’t think it’s anything of the so–”

“I come here spending an ungodly amount of money, and for what? For this sham of a place?”

Marcus picks up his pace and follows the voices until he finds Bodie standing face to face with a visibly angry man. She appears in no distress despite the aggression being hurled her way. He keeps his distance until he can fully assess the situation, but his extensive federal training has him ready to intervene if needed.

“You feel like your time here has been unproductive?” She poses the question tactfully, but the man doesn’t waver.

“Well I sure as hell thought I’d get more out of it than I have! I mean, how much time and money can I throw down the drain before I speak up for myself and demand answers?”

“And what is it you were hoping to get out of your visits here?”

“I dunno! Maybe some-some sort of control back in my life?! All this wishy washy feel good bullshit hasn’t done anything! It’s all some scam to take advantage of people like me who are desperate!” he snaps, taking a step forward with arms raised to the side.

Marcus starts to close the gap but stops when Bodie gestures for him to hang back. A glance isn’t even spared his way as she focuses her attention on the angry man.

“I hear you, and I hear your frustrations. I do, however, feel that you are missing a key consideration.”

“Oh? And what’s that?” the man laughs through his nose.

“Finding and using tools to help you regain control of your life is much more beneficial than some external force coming through and offering some temporary illusion of control. And, above all that, there are things that will never be under our authority.”

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?!”“It means that, yes, we could create some fantasy of the self-actualization you’re after and make you feel like it’s true, but the whole illusion would fall apart the moment you left because it wouldn’t be real. There is no handing ‘it’ over to you – by us or anyone. The entire notion that control is something we give or take from you defeats the entire purpose of you learning to take hold of things yourself. And, you can learn all the coping skills and interventions under the sun, but they will never be useful if you try to pit them against something that will never be in your control no matter how hard you try to force it.”

The man stands straight and blinks a few times, the words overtly taking hold of something inside him.

“Part of control is acceptance, Gordon,” she explains and extends a comforting hand to his bicep. “You have to accept there are things you cannot and will not ever be able to control, and those are the things you have to learn to let go of. No amount of fighting them or screaming or anger will ever change that.”

The man – Gordon, apparently – deflates a bit at this and hangs his head. His voice becomes so quiet Marcus can’t make out half of what he’s saying. His body language speaks to remorse and embarrassment, but Marcus moves in closer just in case he is misreading the energy. He can hear the apologies now and the all too understanding acceptance of them from Bodie. Gordon catches sight of Marcus and quickly excuses himself with Bodie calling after him that she will follow up with him tomorrow.

“Well that’s a first,” Marcus quips, trying to break the dissipating tension altogether. “I was starting to believe nobody could get upset here.”

“Glad to have you back, Marcus,” she deadpans with a budding smile that gives her away.

“In all seriousness, that was, uh, that was pretty impressive.”

“What?”

“Deescalating that situation. Keeping your cool. Maintaining control of the conversation. Actually the sort of thing that makes a really great undercover or intelligence agent.”

“Well, you’d know what it takes, wouldn’t you?” she agrees warmly.

His smile falls a little at the reminder. He was, indeed, the person that would know. At the end of the day, he was still employed with the FBI. This fairy tale in the mountains was on borrowed time, and a couple of weeks from now, he’d be back to his usual responsibilities at work. It’ll be like none of this ever happened, the souvenir of a padded bank account the only remnant of this experience. The realization that he doesn’t want to be Special Agent Marcus Pike anymore hits him like a blow to the gut.

“Marcus? Are you okay?” She reaches out and slots her hand into his.

“Hm? What? Oh, oh yeah, I’m fine.” He forces a chuckle and waves off her worries, but he knows she won’t buy it.

“If you’re not too busy right now, I’d really love for you to join me on my walk.”

And of course he agrees. How could he not? Even if he knows he’s being led to the death of his guard, he can’t turn her down. The tranquil sky and mellow breeze amidst the lines of apple trees are no match for his racing mind. The last time he was here, it felt pacifying and calming. This time it feels as though all the defenses and excuses have been stripped from his brain, leaving nothing but the bare, candid emotions underneath.

“You know,” she begins, interrupting his storming thoughts, “I was thinking back to how you were talking about never being satisfied with what you’ve got. You know, how we’re both guilty of always looking for the next best thing. Worrying about ‘leaving a stone unturned’, as you put it. It made me think back to when I almost gave this up because I thought some place closer to the interstate was a better investment.”

Marcus listens in quiet disbelief as Bodie shares the memory of when she’d come across a great plot of land that was closer to the main highways in the area but located further away from the mountains. She was content at the time with the state of Eternity Hill Orchard, but it wasn’t anything near what it is today. It wasn’t even a fraction of what it is currently because she was so consumed with worry over whether or not there was something better out there. The new plot would’ve been more readily accessible for travelers, which could’ve potentially meant more patrons and a wider reach. It wasn’t until the last moment that she rescinded the offer and decided to keep what she already had and give it the devotion and nurturing it needed to thrive.

“I’m grateful every day that I didn’t go through with it,” she reflects. “The things that I thought were drawbacks were actually what made this place special. The seclusion. The terrain. You can’t get this atmosphere anywhere else. I could’ve lost all of it if I had let my fears override my instincts.”

“I couldn’t imagine this place anywhere else,” he concurs.

“And I didn’t realize my unturned stone was right under my feet.” She levels him with a probing gaze and silently waits for him to speak.

“I’m supposed to start up my position again in a few weeks…..” he begins weakly.

She doesn’t respond beyond a gentle nod, and it compels him to keep going.

“But I don’t think– I feel like maybe there’s… maybe there’s something else for me.” He swallows hard and drops her hand, opting instead to lean against the sturdy base of an apple tree for some kind of support.

“You found a new opportunity, but you’re afraid it’s just another case of chasing after the next best thing?” she surmises.

“Yeah, I– Something like that. I think.” He laughs and drops his head back. “God, this is so unprofessional. I apologize. I really shouldn’t be talking like this.”

She ignores his appeal to decorum and instead pushes for candor. “So, Marcus, where’s the line between romanticizing a hypothetical and following your heart?”

When he doesn’t have an answer, she leans against the tree beside him, and Marcus feels a thousand fiery licks of magnetic pull.

“This whole experience with you has made me consider leaving my work to become an Art Therapist.” It comes out before he can stop it, but he’s rewarded with a beatific smile that makes his insides feel warm and syrupy.

“You know, I have it on good intel that there’s a really nice place up in the mountains that’s in the market for an Art Therapist. I mean, they’re awaiting a report from a consultant about how to implement the Program, but still. I mean, hey, one lucky Art Therapist might just find themselves with the freedom of creating the entire structure of the Program from start to finish.”

Marcus shakes his head, unwilling to accept the insinuation of being offered a job he wasn’t even qualified for. Yet.

“And I bet that Art Therapist would be able to help a lot of people,” she adds softly. “Could really change the lives of the people he’s around.”

He turns to meet her gaze at that and fumbles for the right thing to say. “I can’t— I couldn’t possibly ask you to—”

“You didn’t ask. I offered,” she points out.

“So, what? I’m just– I start tomorrow, just narrowing down a list of online bridge programs? Until I find one and apply? And then magically I just use that degree here?” he scoffs.

“Either that or you could spend the next few days trying and failing to talk yourself out of it,” she muses with a grin.

He balks and stalls but can’t argue with the assertion. Truth be told, he doesn’t even feel like trying to talk himself out of it. The fight left in him to ignore his heart is quickly faltering.

“And, if I might take a turn being unprofessional, I really, really wouldn’t mind you being here on a more … permanent basis. It was nice having you around.”

“Y-Yeah?”

“Mmmhhmmmm.”

Marcus’s eyes flit between her glittery eyes and plush lips. All those years of unfulfilled promises melt away. Every unreciprocated outpouring of love and emotion, gone by the wayside. No more were the feelings of having so much to give without anyone to give it to.

“I really want to kiss you,” he admits in a hush.

“I thought you’d never ask,” she murmurs back.

He doesn’t give himself the opportunity to linger on hesitations. He dips his head and presses his mouth against hers and finds an ardent response. The kiss is slow and deliberate, like so much time has been lost to the absence of it that every facet must be savored. Her tongue rolls along the ridge of his lip, and he opens with a soft gasp when she pushes their bodies together.

She tastes of sugar and earth, body firm and potent. Still, he holds her like a delicate, timeless artifact meant to be admired and cherished. He follows her pull to the cool grass below and groans at the weight of his body sagging against hers. She hooks a foot behind each knee and tugs, the shift of it sending him off balance. Her pliant body eagerly accommodates his searching hands. The dip and swell of her form under his touch has his mind tracing static orbits, something barely tethered to anything resembling cognizance.

When they finally part for a breath, chests heaving and lips swollen, he sees the incisive tenacity burning bright in her eyes. She rolls their fused bodies until his back settles against the ground, and he lies as a stone unturned beneath her feet, ready to be inverted and suffused by her entirety.

“I’ve known I wanted you from the moment we spoke on the phone,” she confesses quietly. Her hand drifts down his torso, stopping carefully at the button of his waistband.

His heart lurches at the disclosure, brazen in all its laid bare inelegance. “All I could think about was getting back to you,” he confides. “All I wanted was to be back here with you.”

Bodie’s lips crash against Marcus’s with unbridled force, the curve of her tongue licking and darting its way deeper into his mouth. The light blanket of night air ripples against their exposed skin as they hastily remove piece by piece of clothing until they’re laid bare against the strewn fabric. Bodie lies staring up at him, and Marcus somehow has the inkling of clarity left enough to pause and check in.

“Is this okay?” he pants.

“Stake your claim on your path forward, Marcus,” she purrs like it’s an invitation. “Leave your mark on what fate brought to you.”

All reason and restraint leaves his body at the call. His teeth graze and nip hungrily down her neck, across her chest, and tug at the hardened nubs he finds there all pert for his attention. Her body curves up from the ground to meet the wet slip of his mouth and rocks mindlessly when it connects with her sex.“I wanna taste you, I wanna taste you” is all she hears between greedy laps of his tongue. He ruts against the mounds of fabric laid about, desperate for any sort of friction after experiencing the high of her taste. Every little moan and gasp is a brush stroke in his portrait of her pleasure. He feeds off the taction and responsiveness, using those hues and depths of bliss to bring about the definitive, live rendering. A heavenly sound slithers up her throat when he slowly inserts two stacked fingers.

“I feel you. Christ you’re so wet,” he rasps. “Come on my fingers. I wanna feel it. C’mon, baby, come for me.”

She cries out under the careful movements of his mouth and fingers, the soft tufts of his hair gripped tight in her hands as she rides it out. His groans fill the air as he laps up each and every gush of arousal. She hauls him up to share another heated kiss, almost relishing in the taste of herself on his tongue.

Marcus breaks away first, pupils blown wide, with a small shiver running up his entire body. He knows going further is risky, and he knows, just like everything else about this moment, it’s driven entirely by raw connection and want. The feeling of finally having someone to pour himself into far too overwhelming to ignore, and there’s never been anything in his life that felt more right than everything in this moment.

“I don’t usual– I just– Can I….?” He trails off with a glance down at his thick length, bobbing heavily with every movement and demanding attention.

Bodie branches her legs out wider to make room for him – for the place he wishes to be buried in. “Please.”

He wastes no time notching himself at her entrance and slowly feeding his cock inch by inch until he’s fully seated inside. They groan in unison at the assimilation of their bodies merging into one synchronous entity. He’s rambling now, unable to stop the torrent of declarations and hopes and craving. Admitting to having already imagined pinning her down just like he is right now, legs pressed against her chest so he can drive deeper. Not hiding the multitudes of ways he wants to profess and display his affection for her.

Bodie responds in kind. Each kiss of his cockhead against the mouth of her womb punctuated with a rush of oaths and calls to freefall into one another. She clings to him like he holds her next breath. They sway and pitch in turn with heavy breaths and wanton cries of bliss released to the sky. Her lids are heavy with exertion when he brings her upright and back flush against his chest, both of their knees digging into the ground.

“I wanna fuck you slow,” he pants, gently rocking his hips against the swell of her ass. “Wanna feel this forever. Want to take my time with you.”

She grinds back onto him, meeting stroke for stroke, and hums contentedly. “You feel so good. Feels so good.”

“Yeah? You like when I make you feel good? You gonna let me make you feel good?”

“You always make me feel good,” she breathes.

He groans and rolls his hips faster, harder. She turns her head to kiss him, latching a hand onto his neck to hold him there. The momentum of his thrusts hastens and sends her to her hands and knees, and Marcus drapes himself across the plane of her back with an arm winding tight around her chest as he drives deeper. All the noises he imagined are nothing compared to the real thing. He can feel her getting closer, and he goads her on.

“There you go–there you go–yeah–let me have it–let me have it, baby.”

He sinks his teeth into the rounded skin on her shoulder and bares down as she moans and clenches around him. Her soft flesh pillows around his bite as the kick of his cock pulses against her walls. She cries out from the sting of his marking but leans into it all the same. Their bodies slump to the ground, still connected at the crux of her thighs, but it’s still not close enough for him.

They lay together in quiet content as their highs level off. He presses the wet of his lips to each little indentation he left, and he hopes they’ll be gone by morning. The guilt of having marked her so deeply – and the guilt of how much that turns him on – occupy his thoughts as he pays his penitence with each kiss. She interrupts his amends and turns to face him, a playful smirk emerging when he hisses at the last drag of her satiny clutches.

His half-lidded, nebulous expression is mirrored, and she can’t stop herself from seeking intimacy again by way of a kiss, which he readily returns. He cradles her to the sinuous line of his body, and it’s as though she was always meant to fit there. The night sky looks down on them as they struggle to not let sleep take them right then and there.

“We should really head back,” Bodie reluctantly points out.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Marcus agrees.

The task of dressing is much more appealing with one another’s help, and they do so until each is as put together as before they came up the hill. They walk hand in hand back toward the main buildings with easy, lulling conversation to pass the time. Marcus smiles ear to ear when Bodie asks a staff member to move his things to her room.

“Wow, moving in together already?” he jokes.

“I feel like it just makes things easier since we’re going to be planning the rest of our lives, you know?” she lobs back with a cheeky grin. “Logistics and all that.”

“So I guess tomorrow is the start of my new life, huh?” he half-teases, but the undercurrent of nerves still comes through.

“I think you knowing about it is new, but I’m pretty sure it was waiting here for you all along.”

And in that moment he wanted to tell her all the ways he adored her. Confess all the varieties of hope she instilled in him. Scream from the rooftops how much he loved her.

But there was no need to rush. Those things could wait, now that he had forever to say them.

This fic was my contribution to @perotovar's Frith Challenge where I received Marcus Pike x Idun. I don't even know where to start with how wild of a journey this fic was to write, and honestly idek if y'all would believe me if I told you lmao.

As always, thank you for reading and sharing!

catch ya later, ♥Puddles♥

#Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike smut #the mentalist #pedro pascal characters #frith challenge #marcus pike x oc

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