#I need to go to a rage room to process this but I also need to watch it all again so I can decide what I really think | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

roosterforme · 2 months ago

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Aim for the Sky Part 37 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley delivers some news that has him smiling. While you're exhausted from your pregnancy hormones, you can't seem to get enough of your husband. And he can't get enough of Rose's first Halloween.

Warnings: Angst, adult language, body image, DILF Roo, pregnancy, smut, lactation kink

Length: 3300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

Bradley didn't want to admit why he couldn't stop smiling on his way to work early the next day. Part of the reason was you, of course. And Rose. And the upcoming Nugget. But a major reason for the grin on his face was the fact that Indigo was about to be grounded for the foreseeable future.

Unsure whether or not he should be the one to inform her about it, Bradley had texted Maverick while you were curled up in bed with him last night. But Mav was detained longer than expected in Lemoore, so it was up to Bradley. And he kind of couldn't wait to break the news to Indigo. When he told you that, you gave him one hell of a blowjob and then fell asleep with your cheek on his shoulder.

For some reason, Indigo's aircraft was about to undergo an inspection along with a communications update. Bradley knew inspections were time consuming. He'd been put through one back in Virginia with the Atlantic Fleet. They weren't for the weak of heart, because all your peers took to the air every day while you waited. And waited. And fucking waited until it felt like your spirit would break. There was nothing quite like missing out on the thrill of flying while everyone else got to do it.

This was why Bradley had to wipe the grin from his face as he strolled down the hallway toward his office. Indigo would not only be grounded, she wouldn't even be allowed to attend any lectures as part of the process. He wouldn't have to constantly see her while the harassment report was being handled. Bradley knew you were responsible for this, at least in part, and he couldn't stop kissing you for it.

"God, I love my wife," he murmured, adjusting the wedding photo on his desk and sitting down to print his lecture notes. Once he had everything in order, he clipped his pages together, grabbed a cup of coffee, and went to his classroom.

As he waited outside the door, Bradley got the chance to greet every officer arriving for class. While he gave Spice a bit of a wide berth, the others were always courteous and respectful on the ground and in the air. The last few aviators trickled into the room, and now Bradley had to watch Indigo strut down the hallway, her black hair pulled into a tight bun, blue eyes flashing. She never took her eyes off him, and she didn't stop until she was just a little too close for comfort.

"Sir," she greeted with a smug smile. He wanted to roll his eyes, but he needed to remain professional. Hadn't he made it clear she wasn't going to get anywhere with him? He was still fighting a grin of his own, ready to deliver the news that would ruin her day, but she licked her lips and laughed. "How's your perfect wife doing? Think she'd believe you over me?"

The urge to smile vanished. Bradley's heart beat an angry rhythm as something precariously close to rage filled his veins. Indigo was threatening him and you, because she had no idea you'd been tucked behind his office door the other day. There was no reason to take the bait. He wanted to blow up again, but he tamped it down.

When she turned on her heel to enter the classroom, Bradley shook his head. "Not today, Lieutenant Jeffries. You and your aircraft have officially been grounded."

The look on her face was reward enough, but listening to her sputtering was also fun for him. "What? What are you talking about? This is ridiculous." She pointed angrily at him, eyes narrowed. "You can't do this. Why do you think you can just do this to me?"

"You'll address me as Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw," he snapped, trying not to smile. "And instead of pointing at me, perhaps next time you'll remember to salute instead." She stood completely still before him, all traces of her anger gone.

"I want to know why."

Bradley backed into the classroom, his hand on the doorknob as he shrugged at her. "You'd have to ask someone a lot smarter than me that question." The door slammed in her face, and Bradley turned to the remaining officers with a bright smile. "Good morning, aviators. Let's get started."

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

You were exhausted, and your jaw was kind of sore from last night's vigorous blowjob as you walked into your lab after dropping Rose off at daycare. "Ow," you whispered, rubbing your chin as you took a seat. Any minute now, Bradley would be breaking the wonderful news to Indigo that she was currently obsolete. You giggled. You ruined her day, and you got to suck Bradley off. It was a win/win.

"You know better than to grin like that," Cat said, walking past you to her workspace. "Not when I'm the one pulling all the weight around here."

You wanted to insist that you were pulling plenty of weight as the baby thumped on your bladder, but you decided against it. "Should I start addressing you as Queen Cat?"

She laughed and turned on her computer. "Lieutenant Commander will suffice. Now let me get everything in order to start my investigation of aircraft number 156682 200. I can't wait to interview the pilot."

"Oh," you gasped. "You're interviewing her today?"

"I'm starting everything today. Including the actual Super Hornet code update. When we get some results, we can analyze the data together."

"Yeah," you replied, still caught up on Cat meeting up with Indigo at some point today. "I hope she doesn't give you a hard time. I still feel guilty, like this is going to eat up all your time. I don't mind carrying more weight in the lab. You know that, right? Like I can take some of your work-"

"First of all," Cat said, cutting you off, "she will not give me a hard time. I'll do everything by the book, but I can guarantee she'll hate me more than I hate her. And that's saying something. I can't wait to see this little piece of shit who thinks she's entitled to your husband."

"But-"

"And second, I'll let you know if I need help staying afloat, but for now, just concentrate on your forty hours while the baby grows."

"I still feel bad!" you finally said.

Cat didn't answer you for a while as she typed away and printed what she needed. You thought the conversation was over until she stood and started for the door. "You could always name the baby Catherine," she said with a wink before disappearing into the hallway.

You tried to focus on your computer screen, but you were a bit shaken by the sudden realization that unlike last time with Rose, you and Bradley hadn't discussed baby names. There were several you were fond of, and you opened a new document to type them out. All of them sounded good with Bradshaw, and you sighed.

"Maybe he should just pick again."

You read through the list, ranking them in your approximate preferred order before adding more. You'd messed around with it so much, you were shocked when you realized it was lunchtime. "Let's go see Daddy," you told your belly.

You were ravenous, but if you gained another pound, you'd be in the maternity tent for sure. But it was unavoidable. Especially with how good the burrito bowls smelled. You were just reaching for a tray in the cafeteria when a moan escaped your lips the same time Bradley wrapped his arm around you.

"Oh, I know that sound," he whispered. "Here? Right now?" You turned to look at his excited smirk. "I mean, I guess we could go up to your office as long as we make it quick."

"Bradley," you laughed. "I was moaning for the burrito bowls."

Now he looked less thrilled. "Oh. Well, they do smell good."

Your stomach was growling uncontrollably now as you handed him a tray. "You know I'd usually pick a quickie," you whispered, gathering your lunch, "but the baby really, really wants this."

"Feed the Nugget," he replied, sticking close by your side as you looked for a table. "I just don't want to run into Indigo," he muttered, head on a swivel. "She is pissed at me, and I'm sick of looking at her."

When you sat down, you asked, "So you broke the news of the grounding?" You felt giddy inside knowing she was having a bad day after she'd given you so many.

"Yeah," Bradley grunted, taking a huge bite of his lunch. "She didn't take it well."

You clapped your hands quietly. "I doubt she's even going to have time to eat lunch. Cat's interviewing her and beginning her aircraft inspection."

"So you're giving me details now?"

You froze as you coated your food with hot sauce. "The less you know the better."

He shook his head and inhaled more food. "I'm just looking forward to taking Rosie trick-or-treating tomorrow. Should I stop and get candy on my way home?"

"Tomorrow's Halloween!" you gasped. "I completely lost track of time. Usually I plan a party and have everyone over!"

Bradley waved you off. "I just want it to be us this time. Rose's costume should arrive today or tomorrow morning. We can show her off to the neighbors and walk down to your parents' new house."

You squealed softly. In a few short weeks, your mom and dad would be moving from Maryland into the cutest coastal cottage in your neighborhood. "Okay, you're right. That sounds perfect. Stop for candy on the way home. And don't open it! You always get into it early and eat half."

Bradley stacked your empty tray with his. "So... about that quickie. I've got like thirty-five minutes until I need to be in the classroom..." His pupils were wide, and his leg was restless under the table. Knowing he wanted you made everything easier.

"I have a meeting with Bickel," you whispered, wrapping your legs around his. "Let's wait until tonight when it doesn't have to be quick."

"Jesus," he grunted, gaze sinking to your chest, knowing you'd make it worth the wait. "Yeah, okay. A little milk to go with the Halloween candy sounds good."

"I told you not to open it early!"

He scoffed as he stood. "I'm never not going to open the Halloween candy early. That's just a fact, Baby Girl."

After he walked you to the elevators, he kissed you and then knelt to kiss your belly before disappearing into the sunlight. Even after your meeting and emptying out your email inbox, Cat still wasn't back. You didn't see her again until nearly the end of the day when she strolled back into the lab.

"What's up?" you asked, endlessly curious about what was going on with Indigo. Cat was giving you a look that left you feeling unsettled. "What? Tell me."

She sighed and sank into her seat. "First of all, Jeffries is a piece of work. She thinks she's hot shit, and I don't understand how you haven't run her over with Bradley's fancy Bronco by now. But..."

"What?!"

"Well, as I finished up my preliminary checks, she looked me right in the eye and asked if I work with you."

Your stomach lurched. "She did?"

Cat nodded. "Yes. She asked me if I work with Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw's wife."

You felt uneasy. "What did you say?"

"I ignored her. But I'd already been ignoring plenty of her mouthing off, so whatever. It doesn't matter."

But it did matter to you. In all of your scheming, you'd almost forgotten that Indigo was still going to be lurking around North Island, ready to try to make your life harder. Ready to corner Bradley again. The fucking Navy needed to sort out his complaints against her faster. But at least you were under Indigo's skin. The thought almost felt good.

When you got home with Rose, you saw a text from Bradley.

Bradley Rooster Bradshaw <3<3<3: don't make dinner, i'll bring food home

"Daddy's giving us more time to play," you whispered to your daughter who clearly wanted to be fed by the way she was clinging to you. "Let's go sit on the swing."

You nursed her on the enormous playset in your yard that Bradley just had to have, then you swung with her. When you started to burp her, your husband showed up, still in his uniform, looking hot as hell with his hands full of bags of candy.

His aviators were low on his nose, and he peered over them when he said, "I bought more than enough, Sweetheart. Now you can't complain when I start eating it after dinner." He dropped the candy on the patio table and made a beeline for you. "Let me burp the Nugget."

He alternated between kissing your forehead and Rose's as you slowly swung back and forth while he burped her. Somehow he just kept looking sexier as he bounced her in his arms, making her giggle.

"Keep your uniform on," you told him, letting your eyes slip to his bicep where his tattoos peeked out. "I want you in your uniform later."

"Yes, ma'am," he grunted, kissing your lips, making you gasp.

"You taste like chocolate! You already got into the candy!"

He winced, nudging his sunglasses all the way up his nose. "In my defense, there were Reese's Cups!" When he changed the subject, you didn't stop him. "Come inside and look at the Halloween costumes before we eat dinner."

Bradley outdid himself in every way. There were costumes for all three of you, and yours was stretchy enough to fit over your belly. The dinner he picked up was delicious, and after he read the book about the Silly Goose, he got Rose ready for bed.

But just the sound of his voice was turning you on. And you weren't even mad that he kept eating the candy. Your brain and your body felt fuzzy as you realized your hormones were completely out of control. When he walked into the bedroom, still in his khaki uniform, you squeezed your thighs together and whimpered.

"Am I allowed to get excited now, or are you still vibing with the burrito bowl?" he rasped with a smile.

"I am horny as hell," you whispered, quickly undressing as his eyes went wide. Maybe a quickie at lunchtime would have taken the edge off, because this was wild. You swore you could smell your husband from across the room, and when his big hand rested on his thick cock through his pants, you ran to him.

You were completely naked while he was fully dressed, and he cupped your breasts in his hands with an appreciative sound. "You were so right about the quickie. Now I can take my time." One hand ended up on your butt, guiding you to face the wall where you braced your hands. Bradley nudged your legs apart, his uniform scratching along your skin deliciously.

"Keep talking," you begged as the sound of him unzipping his pants met your ears. "Keep talking to me, Roo."

His insignia pins rubbed the back of your shoulder and his mustache found your ear. "Oh, you really need this, huh?"

You jerked your head in a nod as his cock throbbed against your lower back. "I really do. Keep talking."

He guided himself to your entrance, pushing just the tip where you wanted him most before his hands slid around to your belly. "You want me to keep talking?" he murmured, going deeper and deeper, lips teasing your ear. "I could talk about how much I love you all night."

"Bradley," you whined, arching your back as he bottomed out.

"I love the way you say my name. And I love the way you can't get enough of my cock."

It was like listening to sweet and depraved poetry as his thighs slapped against yours. He kept going with his thrusts and his words, stroking your breasts which began to leak milk. But then he crooned about how much he loved that, too. Nothing was off limits as your head tipped back against his shoulder, kissing his tattoos.

His gruff breaths and shortening strokes let you know he was close, and when his fingers, wet with your milk, met your clit, you closed your eyes and focused on the pleasure as he said, "I love you, Sweetheart. I love you so fucking much."

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

Bradley cradled Rose in his arms, making a fuss over her. "My little Nugget," he chuckled, kissing her face around her fuzzy costume. Everything was set. What was left of the candy he hadn't eaten was in a bowl on the porch, and he had squeezed into his own costume.

"What about Tramp?" you called from the bedroom. "Should we leave him here so he thinks he's guarding the house from the trick-or-treaters?"

"Yeah," laughed Bradley. "Let him howl all night. He'll sleep all day tomorrow." You appeared in your costume which made Bradley smile. "You look cute as a pregnant bottle of hot sauce."

When you rubbed your belly, he wished he could feel the baby himself. After hours cradling you against him in bed last night, trying every position, he still couldn't feel her.

"I feel cute," you replied, doing a little wiggle dance around the kitchen, tossing a treat to Tramp. "And together we make the perfect meal."

"A meal you can't have right now," Bradley interjected, adjusting his beer bottle costume while the dinosaur chicken nugget squirmed against him.

"I can have dinosaur chicken nuggets and hot sauce, just not the beer," you replied, kissing Rose. "She looks so cute in this thing. I still can't believe you found it online."

"My little Dino Nugget," Bradley whispered. "Can you help me put the carrier on so we can go?"

"The carrier?" you repeated, brow creased. "Why don't we just take the stroller?"

Bradley rolled his eyes dramatically. "For the hundredth time, I don't like the stroller when I can just carry her instead. The stroller is bulky, and I don't even get to play with her when I'm pushing it. I don't know why they exist."

You bit your lip. "You're adorable, Roo."

When you turned to get the carrier, the image of Indigo randomly flashed through his mind. Things had been so nice the past few days, it was like he'd forgotten about the terrible weeks before this. Which he couldn't do. He knew he had to remember how much you were hurting so he didn't fuck up again. But right now, he wanted to enjoy Rose's first Halloween to its fullest.

"Can you still tell what her costume is?" Bradley asked as he fastened his daughter in place against his chest. "Shit. If we have to use the stroller, I'll be so pissed."

"Stop swearing in front of the baby," you scolded, feeding Tramp another treat. "I can very clearly tell she's a dinosaur chicken nugget. And a cute one at that."

"Excellent." Bradley fluffed up her costume and turned to the door. "Don't knock over the candy bowl."

You and he both stepped over it. "I'm shocked there was any candy left to put in the bowl," you told him with a playful glare.

"Listen, Baby Girl," he said, reaching for your hand. "You play your cards right, and you'll be my sweet treat later."

"It's annoying to me that I like the way that sounds."

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We've got plenty more of Indigo coming in the next chapter. Want to know the names BG saved for the baby? Should I just go ahead and put up a baby names poll? Thanks for reading.

PART 38

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coolwyous · 1 month ago

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┈─★ 𝘪 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨'𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 ( 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙢𝙮 𝙜𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙧 .) / pt ii.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ a few years after the worst heartbreak you've ever known, you're back at the ranch for one week to pay your respects after your grandfather suddenly passes away. you're convinced you're over the stupid farmhand that made you swear off love— until of all people, megan skiendiel shows up at your door, same hat, same boots, same sad brown eyes.

ˎˊ˗ 🌾 ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 🔓୭˚. ⠀ ᵎᵎ ⠀ 🗝️

➴ pairing: cowboy! megan skiendiel x f!reader

➴ genre + wc: 12k, modern cowboy!au, exes to lovers, jealous + protective bf megan wahhh, explores themes of grief, slice of life, small town vibes, MILD angst, we KILL the cowboy (jk happy ending i swear!!)

➴ you might want to tune in...: 𝗢𝗦𝗧: golden hour - kacey mustgraves. ♫ 𝗔𝗖𝗧 𝗜: i don't trust myself (with loving you) - john mayer. ♩ 𝗔𝗖𝗧 𝗜𝗜: still your girl - gamma skies. ♫ 𝗔𝗖𝗧 𝗜𝗜𝗜: wait by the river - lord huron. ♩ 𝗘𝗡𝗗 𝗖𝗥𝗘𝗗𝗜𝗧𝗦: superglue - role model. ♫

➴ 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝗶 can be found here. ᵎᵎ

cw:// suggestive scene, mentions of death (parent/grandparent.)

your skin crawls being there. same place, 3 years later.

“sorry we couldn’t get you from the airport,” your uncle apologizes.

“it’s okay. the train wasn’t all that bad.”

“it’s so nice to see your face round here again. wish it was under better circumstances.”

you’re not quite sure how to respond. when your grandfather passed away suddenly, your parents did nothing but argue about who would come to represent your family at the funeral. both insanely busy with their own jobs, the role fell to you, much to your protest. but considering his money was what was going to fuel you through your future goal of med school, you had little room left to argue.

(after all, you’d also promised yourself you’d never mention a word of what that summer did to you, and that was a promise easily kept.)

now here you are, back at the place you swore you’d never return to, trying to get through the week unscathed.

“who are they?” you ask, motioning to the two random boys working together to take your bag into he house. they stumble over themselves, struggling to get the handle to tuck away.

“just some sorry excuses for cowboys,” old pete spits. “ever since the kid left, we needed the hands. but they ain’t much help.”

the implication isn’t lost on you. they needed two guys to do what megan did by herself.

“y/n,” your aunt’s voice cuts in, sounding worried. “your uncle should tell you-”

“i don’t want to talk about it,” you cut her off, knowing already by the tone where this is headed.

“she doesn’t want to talk about it,” your uncle reiterates, shrugging.

you’re napping on the sofa by the open window to enjoy the mountain air breeze when a rustle outside stirs you. you hear the crunch of gravel, some footsteps making their way up to the porch, and a thud as someone sits in the old rocking chair.

“use the truck as long as you’re here, you get that old thing to run better than anyone. thank you again for coming,” your uncle’s voice is muffled against the hum of the cicadas.

“don’t mention it.”

you feel a jolt through your spine. you know that stupid voice.

(worse, you remember that stupid phrase. her first words to you.)

you leap off the couch and see her clearly through the window.

she’s leaning against one of the posts of the patio fence, arms crossed over her chest, a suede jacket and blue jeans with those stupid boots and that stupid fucking hat.

you feel immeasurable rage bubble up and out of your chest, and before the sense can kick in, you’re racing past the front door and pushing her backwards full force, sending her toppling backwards off the railing and onto the dirt.

those brown eyes look up at you, wide and full of confusion as she processes what’s going on, and you feel instantly sick to your stomach as you take her in. three years weren't enough to forget every feature of her face, and you ache realizing that her eyes are heavier, the creases between her brows deeper, and her smile lines faded.

(she’s older now, and granted you are too, but years ago, you were dreaming of being the one to grow old with her.)

“you’ve got some fucking nerve showing up here,” you spit.

if you were half a screw more unhinged, you’d slap her then and there, but a part of you knows a girl who takes beatings from thousand-pound cattle or pissed off horses would probably hardly even flinch at you.

she rises to her feet slowly, the patio fence the only thing between the two of you. she dusts off her jeans and eyes you with uncertainty. you want to be in her face again, but she mirrors your movement like a wrangler watching a bull, careful and calculated. for every bit you lean to move towards her, she leans away.

“y/n…” your uncle tries to quell you, standing up from the chair.

“you didn’t even go to your mom’s own funeral and you’re coming to my granddad’s, who you barely fucking knew?” you blurt, barely able to contain yourself as you stumble over your own feet. “what kind of stupid fucked logic is that?”

her jaw goes hard, and she pulls the brim of her hat down to cover her eyes from your view. she waves curtly to your uncle and makes her way over to the truck, and it fills you with rage to see her drive away down the road so easily.

“i tried telling you–” your uncle starts, but you don’t want to hear it. you sprint back upstairs into your room and lock the door, trying to calm your racing heart.

it’s just a week, but it might as well be another summer in hell.

they know not to ask you about her.

“i wouldn’t recommend the fields tonight, stay here,” your aunt tells you gently, seeing you pull a jacket over your shoulders as you make your way downstairs, having been holed up in your bedroom since last night’s interaction.

but if anything, that pisses you off more, this stupid girl won’t be the reason you’re stuck inside all day, and you take a horse out through the property to clear your mind.

(maybe you’ll be less stubborn next time.)

you recognize her instantly once you see her in the steer pen, beer can in one hand, crushed cans littering the fence post where her jacket is hanging and the horse is tied to. your first instinct is to turn around, but your hands stay firm on your horse’s reins instead of backing the two of you out of there.

you can see her outline faintly against the sunset. she’s waving her hat in the steer’s face, taunting the beast intentionally, dipping out of his way as soon as it starts to run towards her.

a one-man bullfight.

as soon as you get your horse finally turning, deciding you’ve had enough, you see her trip over the heel of her boot, slipping and landing back-first into the ground. the steer, seeing red, starts to run directly towards her.

you feel your stomach lurch. as angry as you are, a half ton creature crushing her is probably not the revenge you were seeking.

you dismount quickly and run straight up to the fencing, waving your hands wildly.

“hey! hey you!” you scream at the bull, the desperation in your voice apparent. it breaks the silence between the bull and megan, and breaks his concentration briefly. he turns to look at you, realizing you’re behind the fence, and then turns back towards his previous victim.

but megan, as much as you hate her, is quick on her feet to scramble out of the pen and roll underneath the fence post, her chest heaving as she escapes the near-death experience.

she’s wobbly as she gets to her feet, breathing heavily still. she grabs her hat off from the ground and dusts it off.

“thanks for rescuing me.”

“you’re selfish as shit, for so many reasons, but getting yourself killed by a cow on the week of my grandpa’s funeral would be another notch on your stupid belt.”

“not my best idea,” she wrinkles her nose, and you feel rage boiling from beneath your skin.

“drunk, stupid cowboy.” you shove into her, feeling the hot tears threaten the corners of your eyes.

“you loved this drunk, stupid cowboy, once,” she bites back immediately, faster than you had ever expected, and her voice is strained, as if she’s been screaming or yelling.

or crying.

you say nothing and turn around, mounting back on your horse to leave.

she says nothing, but you hear the crunch of the metal beer can beneath her boot.

“you said she stopped living here,” you tell your uncle over dinner that night. you try to be calm, but your tone changes the words into an accusation instead of a comment.

“she did,” he tries to reassure you. “she came into town for the service.”

“is that where bruce went?” you question, having noticed only tilla’s presence on the property. “you let him leave with megan?”

“who’s bruce?” one of the replacement farmhand boys asks dumbly, and old pete simply slaps the back of his head to chastise him for interrupting.

“she needed him more than we did,” he insists. “i felt bad splittin’ the two up. she sends me pictures of him every week.”

“you guys still talk?” you feel the back of your neck light on fire. isn’t your family supposed to have your back? “is that how she found out about grandpa?”

“your grandpa loved that kid, said she respected the land, understood it,” old pete interjects, seeing your uncle clearly drowning under your line of questioning. “they talked even after she quit workin’ here.”

“the service is on sunday, like he would have wanted, and then they read his will on wednesday when your cousins all get here,” your aunt reminds you, as if it’s supposed to offer you comfort.

“i don’t want to be stuck seeing her.”

“that might be hard,” your uncle rubs the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. “she agreed to come help out on the property for a few days, just while we arrange everything—”

“you’re joking,” you blurt. “but those new boys are living in her old room.”

“she’s staying in the old log cabin up the road by the stables. you aunt never let us go in there cause of how cold the nights get, but meg figured out the wood stove and where the smoke was leaking from, that damned kid. always so sharp.”

“y/n, you leave in a week, and it’s not like she’s living in the house and having family meals with us. i know it’s not ideal, but…” your aunt tries to console you, but you’ve already stood up by the time she trails off.

you take your plate up to your room and finish dinner with your book in silence. your aunt’s words ring in your head. just get through the week.

the next day, thursday, you’re going stir-crazy by mid-day. you’re tired of being holed up in your room since the sunrise.

if you run into megan, you’ll simply walk away. free will, or whatever. you deserve the right to go explore and find closure, and then never think of this place again.

and somehow, despite the hundreds of acres the property owns, you’re reading up against the fencepost, trying to enjoy the summer sun and the smell of the clean mountain air through the tall grass, and you hear a quiet hum. that gentle, soft hum that had once calmed every pressing worry in your body.

megan’s words ring through your ears.

you loved her, once.

“y/n,” she breathes, recognizing you as she walks along the trail, hands in her pocket.

“what do you want?” you ask, watching as she approaches cautiously.

“i owe you an apology,” she tells you, kneeling down to be at eye level, still keeping a fair amount of distance between the two of you. her statement catches your attention.

you don’t owe her forgiveness, but part of you needs the closure.

“i’m listening.”

she takes a deep breath, her eyes avoiding yours. her hands wring together, as if she’s rehearsed this and is nervous to forget her lines.

and then she opens her mouth, and your heart sinks.

“i took advantage of you that summer, when you were lonely. that was shitty and irresponsible of me. i should have known better. i’m sorry.”

you feel the bile rise up in your throat. you weren’t sure what to expect, but surely this was the worst possible thing to come out of what she could say. that was the last possible perspective you’d have taken about that summer, the way you two grew closer by equal parts proximity and shared time getting to know each other, like two opposites discovering just how much they balanced the other out.

“that’s how you’re looking at this?” you ask in disbelief.

“i was the only person around your age for miles,” she shakes her head, still avoiding your gaze.

“you are so full of shit,” you breathe, completely unable to say more than that. “my god.”

“sorry, y/n.”

“you know, i was hoping when my uncle said you’d left, that you’d gone and done some reflecting and growing and there would be even a chance at closure with you.” you stand up, worried if you stay seated any longer, you might pen up too much energy and try to push her again. “but you haven’t changed at all.”

you’re half expecting her to defend herself, but instead, she simply tilts her head looking up at you from where she’s still sitting.

“what, like you’ve changed?”

you scowl at her. “i’m a completely different person than i was back then.”

“tiger can’t change its stripes,” megan says simply. “people don’t change.”

“but they grow,” you cut back quickly, feeling the anger threatening to boil over. “and if you don’t grow, you die sad and alone, which is what’s going to happen to you while i go off and live my life.”

you see megan’s brow twitch.

“and i’ll go off and live it with someone who isn’t scared to be in love with me, ‘cause that’s what i deserve, and that wasn’t you,” you continue, before turning on your heel to start walking away. you’d give anything to make sure she doesn’t see you cry. “i don’t deserve someone who minimizes it or writes it off or runs away from it.”

you hear the crunch of her boots against the dirt as she gets up and catches up to you easily, her voice ringing out from behind you.

“sorry for minimizing it.”

“it’s fucking gross for me to talk about it, but i’m not afraid to admit it like you are. i loved you so much and i genuinely pictured the future with you, and to hear you talk it down to me just being lonely and young— i hate thinking that’s what you think of me.” you stop briefly, trying to shake your head to stop the tears from continuing. “you ruined everything.”

but then she reaches out to grab your wrist, and the contact makes your whole body illuminate with electricity. her grip is gentle, but so unbelievably strong. her eyes are finally seeking yours, her gaze hard and serious, as if she’s flipped a switch.

“did you find someone else while you went home?” she asks, her voice low.

“who cares if i did?” you yank your arm out of her grasp. “i wanted it to be you.”

“i care,” she says weakly, and you decide you’ve had enough.

whatever version of megan you might’ve loved is long gone.

“no you don’t care. all you care about is protecting yourself.” you leave your book there, deciding you’ll come back for it another time, and turn on your heel to walk back towards the lodge. “i’m leaving. i’ll see you at the funeral, then i can’t wait to never fucking think about you ever again. bye megan.”

one of the trees by the creek catches your attention as you walk back to the lodge, trying to clear your head of thoughts of the ginger.

there’s a little notch carved into the side of it, like a tally mark.

you turn around the tree and notice that the whole thing is notched. carefully scratched tally marks as high as you can reach, down to the very bottom, made by a hunting knife or a swiss army knife or something.

you keep walking straight back to the lodge. you could swear you hear something like your name being called out behind you, but you chalk it up to the wind and leave it where it lays.

friday morning, two days before the funeral service. you’ve managed to find a rhythm where you move fast enough around the property to not get caught up enough to run into megan again. this time, you’re rustling around in the wooded area by the field, hoping to figure out where the hell your book ended up.

you hear the faint rustle of leaves, and then a quiet set of yips and yelps. your legs go numb as you recognize the pattern— megan had taught you how to recognize the noises of different animals, and coyotes sound an awful lot like what you’re hearing around you.

“hey pete?” you call out, trying to see if your sounds can potentially scare them off. “pete?”

“not funny,” you yell a little louder, your voice shaking slightly. you hear the yelps getting louder, a bit closer, and you try to ramp up your yells, clapping as well. “get outta here! go!”

the noises only come closer, and you wish you would have come prepared with some bear spray or something to get out of this, but before you can worry too much, there’s a rapid sound of crunching twigs through the woods.

someone is running to you.

you can only hope it’s pete, or your uncle, but the ginger hair is quickly colliding into you, landing the both of you into the dirt. you can’t hear the animals any more, and figure it was megan’s chaotic racket that scared them off.

“you okay?” she asks quickly, her arms holding her up to hover over you.

“get off of me,” you huff, trying to push off her shoulders.

she steps away, and you see the fresh rips in her jeans, the scuffs on her boots, and the briars all stuck to her.

you look back from where she had run– a thicket of bristles, and you see the barbed wire just a few yards behind.

“what did you do?” you question, trying to piece it together.

“i might’ve gotten caught up in one of the wire fences when i heard you. came running, probably should have been more careful,” she admits, staring down at her ruined pair of levi’s.

“don’t do that again,” you threaten, but your heart abandons you. the near-miss with the bull was enough. you can’t risk unpacking the pain of something happening to her.

“okay,” she breathes simply. she searches for something in her back pocket, and retrieves your book. “this is yours.”

she leaves the book next to you, and turns to disappear back into the treeline.

friday evening. you’re face to face with the pond. the air is sticky, oppressively hot even as the sun comes down, and you decide you’re not afraid of anything if you’re able to face all these memories of megan and make it out in one piece.

you don’t exactly want either of the new boys watching you strip down to your underwear, so you tell yourself you can teach yourself how to swim without supervision as long as you stay with your head above water.

admittedly, you’re getting more and more confident with each stride. it’s easy enough to think you’re getting the hang of it when you’re only torso deep, and the water is still. you wade in a tiny bit further, enjoying the cool water against your skin.

your foot slips on a rock much too smooth for you to grip, and you feel yourself slip under the water by accident. you miscalculated just how deep this thing is.

you don’t have enough time to gasp a final gulp of air before you feel the water in your mouth, in your lungs, your limbs flailing to try and get a grasp of something nearby to pull yourself out.

you feel the strong hands, much too familiar, wrap around your waist and heave upwards to get your head above the water. you gasp a breath and feel yourself flailing, but her grip is so strong on you, so firm, you go limp as she kicks backwards to get you back to shallower water.

the two of you collapse on top of each other at the shore of the pond, and she lets go of you immediately.

“you okay?” she asks, those too-familiar brown eyes scanning over you, brows knit together. her clothes are completely drenched through, the fabric clinging to her.

you shove her away, trying to build distance between the two of you, as you reach for your flannel to cover yourself up. “fucking hate you.”

“quit saying that,” she grimaces, her nose wrinkling as she turns to look away from you, as if she’s pained by your statement.

“leave me the fuck alone, megan,” you nearly scream, exasperated.

“you were drowning,” she says back, as if in disbelief.

“i don’t want you near me, what part of that do you not understand?”

“i’m not looking for you,” she snaps. “but i keep finding you.”

“somehow,” you snap back frustratedly.

“somehow,” she echoes, but her voice is softer, and you see her face change.

you feel your heart thud. you can’t handle whatever is about to come out of her.

“don’t–” you try, but the stupid cowboy is always too fast.

“i tried calling you,” she blurts, “every day, all of fall season after you left.”

“that’s all i meant to you, the fall time? three months?” you shove her further away. “sounds about right.”

she grabs your wrist, again. you freeze, her gaze locking into yours as her voice drops.

“y/n, for a split second, you meant the rest of my fuckin’ life,” she tells you firmly, her voice unwavering. “after the fall time, i called you every friday morning for a year.”

your heart nearly stops in your chest. your fridays in town together.

it clicks, faintly. the mystery phone number that always called during your friday 8am class, you always let go to voicemail, and it never left a message. you thought it was a spam number and blocked it after three weeks.

“please don’t get back in there,” she starts, motioning to the pond. “if you got hurt…”

she trails off, biting down. you can see the tears welling in her eyes.

you feel yourself eager to bite back, eager to wound her and make her feel half of what you feel.

if i got hurt? do you know what you’ve done to me?

you’re not cruel enough to drive the point home. you know she knows the damage she’s done. she gets up off the ground and wrings her shirt out before she walks in the opposite direction, leaving you alone without another word.

you burst through the door of the ranch house and lock eyes with your aunt, who is at the table peeling onions for tonight’s dinner.

“did megan actually try to call me the whole fall season?” you rush, the words bursting out of you faster than you could think them through.

“why are you wet?” your aunt asks in shock. “y/n, look at the state of you!”

“please,” you press, and you see her face twist. she lets out a sigh and shakes her head.

“after you left, i could tell something was off. she’d take bruce and make the drive out to town every damn morning before anyone woke up just to try and use the pay phone.” she stands up and wipes her hands on her apron. “blew half her pay a week just on gas alone. she said she didn’t trust the cell service up here on the ranch.”

“every morning?” you question, but your aunt has never been one to exaggerate.

“then it was just the fridays, like when you two’d go to town and run your errands. when that stopped working for whatever reason, she got it in her head to start writing on the porch and she’d stay for hours writing these letters. she’d go up to the mailbox every morning, then just turn around without putting it in. i think she thought i didn’t see her, but god gave women a sixth sense for these kinds of things.” she shoots you a pointed look. “sneaking about things.”

“oh,” you say simply, the back of your neck burning.

“she lost something when you left,” her tone softens, reaching out a hand gently onto your arm. “kid wasn’t the same after that. never seen her angry before, but i assume that’s what it was– anger. tried to hide it but you don’t just smoke a pack a day and work yourself to the bone without it going noticed, y’know?”

“sorry,” you say simply, blinking as you try to make sense of it all.

“sweetie, your uncle is simple, and old pete doesn’t know anything.” she shakes her head again, as if she’s letting you in on a secret. “and i’m not the type to tell anyone how to live, much less an independent, smart girl like you. i’ll let you make your own decisions.”

she walks away, and you assume that’s the end of it, but she emerges from the pantry with a small box, heaving it with both hands. she drops it on the table in front of you, and you see it’s taped shut.

“but do i believe these are for you.”

you hesitate, but take the box upstairs into your room. you change into some dry clothes and peel back the tape to open the box.

in it, filled to the brim, are little envelopes, no dates, no addresses, no anything. you fish down to grab one from the bottom and slip a finger under the seal to take the letter out. you sit on your bed, taking in the handwriting.

i think of you every time i go to the rodeo. did you know that’s when i asked for a sign from god? that night was the first time i didn’t beat my own record. every other time, i lasted longer and longer, and the one and only time you came with me, i fell short. i think it was my mom telling me that there’s something else out there that feels better than just winning stupid shit.

you blink, setting the paper down. you read a second, then another, and another. you don’t realize you read through the night until your eyes droop and you fall asleep, pile of papers surrounding you.

(somehow, her voice rings even louder in your mind.)

saturday evening. you slept in til the mid-day to catch up on how late you were up. you’ve spent too long that day reading all her letters, leaving a few of them to save for later that night, your eyes strained from focusing all day. she talks about her mom, about loss, about mourning, about her regrets and her fears.

and she talks about you. every letter, a new memory you didn’t know she had treasured, catalogued away in that supposedly empty brain of hers— a new way to look at each memory the two of you had made that summer.

your fingers slip one in your back pocket, one of your favorites, one that had validated the experience the two of you had shared.

we had dinner on the porch today, because the cicadas were singing so beautifully. it made me think about you and the time you sat and kept me company in the rocking chair while we peeled potatoes for dinner. that was the first day i pictured us getting old and grey. i realized i didn’t need the ranch, i just needed you.

you shake your head and try to empty it of thoughts of her. whoever this version of megan was, it was gone, and the one you have now is what you have to accept.

your stomach twists at the thought. you need to focus on anything but the ache in your chest of reliving all these moments, knowing how she felt on the other end of it.

“can i take auntie’s car into the town?” you call out to the house.

“be safe on the road. you don’t usually drive it alone, it can get tiring,” your uncle calls back to you. “her keys are on the mantle.”

you find the keys, and take your aunt’s vw bug out of the garage and onto the dirt road, starting the hour-long drive out to the town. familiar, but never one you’ve done alone, you figure it’s the easiest thing you can do to get out of your own head.

you end up at the bar, the only other thing open past 9pm in this god forsaken small town. you’re used to a bustling night life in your city, but forget that things are much much slower up in the mountain. the parking lot is full of familiar-looking trucks and old cars, clearly a town celebrating the freedom of the weekend.

you enter and take in the old country bar: neon signs, mounted animal heads, and hundreds of framed photos of people and places around the town. couples dance to the music, others play pool at the tables nearby, and some are getting rowdy near the mechanical bull ride.

you let out a quiet breath and sit yourself at the bar. you feel the crinkle in your back pocket. a letter you forgot to take out before you had left the house.

before the bartender can even get to you, a mustached man posts up in the seat next to you, resting his elbow much too far into your bubble.

“the niece from the city,” he says simply, and you realize you might not be a stranger to these people after all. “let me buy you something.”

“no thank you,” you nod politely. whatever his intentions are, your focus was to spend the night alone in a new place, and considering you weren’t even old enough to enter the bar last you were here, this is your best bet at making a memory in this town for yourself, without megan’s hands on it.

(and how predictably rude of this man to ruin it…)

“i insist,” he pushes, flagging for the bartender to come over.

“i promise i’m okay,” you press back, rolling your eyes. nothing good can ever exist outside of a man ruining it.

but then he’s taking a strand of your hair in his dirty hand, and you feel yourself tense.

“pretty hair, on a pretty girl,” he tells you, playing with the lock within his fingers, leaning in much too close for your comfort. “how’re you likin’ the countryside so far?”

you feel yourself try to move away but you freeze at how imposing he is in your space. you’re sure any other interested girl would swoon being in your position, a confident man making it clear he’s interested, but this is quite possibly the opposite of what you’d want in this moment right now.

your mouth opens to protest, but there’s no sound. his hand is suddenly yanking backwards, and you see his body swing back out of the chair. you realize he’s been shoved away from you.

you smell it before you see her. pine and campfire.

and in an instant, she lands a punch to his face, square in the jaw.

“sorry sorry, my hand slipped,” she apologizes to him lazily, shaking out her wrist from what you can assume will be an impact bound to bruise. she takes a quick look at him, and you’re shocked when she spits on the ground next to his head, her eyes narrowing. “i’d stay down there if i were you, my hand might slip again.”

“out,” the bartender growls, whistling towards the two of you and pointing to the door. “now. come back when you’re sobered up, kid.”

“what the fuck?” you scowl at her, before a random pair of hands are shoving the two of you out the door and into the parking lot, the chill of the night air nipping at your nose.

megan doesn’t seem the least bit unphased, her eyes wide but focused on you.

“did you get a lot of people flirting with you back home?” she blurts, almost breathlessly. you can see her hand already start to swell, but she’s paying it no attention.

“why do you care?” you jab back.

“i can’t–” her face twists, her eyes scrunching shut. “i can’t stand the idea.”

you can’t give any thought to her rambles right now. “how the fuck do you keep finding me?”

“i am kinda–” she pauses, wrinkling her nose, “a little drunk. no liquor store so the bar is the only option when the gas station closes. came here and wanted to forget about you.”

you stare her down, contemplating what comes next. the choice is easy.

you sprint right over to your car and lock yourself in, megan irritatedly following behind you and knocking on the glass that now separates you.

“open,” she grunts, testing the door handle.

“go away.” you scowl at her through the glass. “i’ll scream, and someone will come and beat your ass.”

“don’t drive an hour home when you just drank like that,” she pleads, her voice softening slightly. she slumps against the car, leaning her face near the window to be able to look you in the eyes. “i’m gonna stay as long as i need to fix this. i’ll stay all night if i have to.”

her eyes are so warm and inviting, even through the barrier of the glass. you have half a mind to kick the car in reverse and let her go tumbling over the hood.

“i don’t want to be around you, what part of that is not getting through your skull?”

“i hurt you and i ran away instead of running towards you,” she says suddenly, pressing her forehead against the window. you’re shocked by how tender her voice sounds, a world of difference from her apology on the ranch. “i was scared to love something that deep and have it ripped away from me, and i ran away from it instead so it’d hurt less.”

“but it didn’t hurt less,” she continues, her eyes avoiding yours. you see her lip tremble, but she hardens her jaw to steady it. “it left something.”

“i was angry with you. i was angry for the first time in my adult life,” she admits. “i had gone numb after my mom, and then you show up, and it’s like everything was back to full volume after being silent for so long. being up here, it gave me a routine to fall into. it made me stop thinking, and then you showed up, and all i wanted to do was think about you, and the future, and the beauty in everything. you put something back in my head, and when you left, it made me angry.”

“i didn’t leave you on purpose,” you finally manage, silent throughout all of this.

“you could have stayed. we could have kept everything the same, and you had to go off and leave me,” she pushes back, but her voice is small, barely audible now across the glass.

“the same?” you question.

“we could have lived on the ranch and lived so easy, y/n.”

“i tried to bring you with me–”

“and i wasn’t ready. and that will haunt me forever.” her lips press into a fine line, and your heart thuds as she lets out a quiet breath. “i’m sorry i wasn’t ready to love you how you deserved.”

the apology. a real apology.

with that, you feel it rise from the gravel, the summer you had burned and buried, the feelings you had worked so diligently to try and rid yourself of before they destroyed you. you can close the chapter where you hate her, and move away from it all.

“i guess we were just kids,” you breathe after a moment.

“i’m sorry,” she reiterates. you roll the window down, and she leans on the frame, her head poking into the car. “i am really truly sorry.”

“no.” you don’t want her to grovel and ruin the moment, waving her off. “you gave me closure. done being angry.”

“you are?” her eyes light up.

“i leave wednesday night, and it’ll be easier not having to seethe with rage every time i see you,” you offer as a truce.

“i’m more than good with that,” she nods, and you feel the next chapter writing itself.

“i’m hungry,” you say simply, and she arches a curious brow at you.

“the diner is 24/7,” she offers.

“dinner, at the diner?” you ask, pointing up the street.

“i need to sober up before i try driving back to the ranch, and so do you,” megan says. “it’s a five minute walk. we can get the cars after?”

you nod and the two of you walk together to the diner, keeping a cautious distance in between yourselves. you ignore the crumple of paper in your back pocket, the letter begging to be read.

she orders a black coffee and watches you the whole time you eat your pancake platter.

you watch her back. your heart echoes something each time your eyes meet silently, but you do your best to quiet it as you make small talk about the town.

home.

sunday finally comes. the service is beautiful, and they bury your grandpa next to your grandma.

“they get to be together even after all they’ve been through,” your aunt says, something like admiration in her voice.

you look at megan, and she’s fixed her eyes on the hole in the ground, biting down on her bottom lip to stay anchored. you can already tell what she’s thinking of and what this brings up for her.

before you can stop yourself, you reach for her hand. she takes it and squeezes it, and doesn’t let go.

that night, after the service, your uncle insists on taking the whole family out to the bar, saying it’s what his father would have wanted. your grandpa was a big character, and it’s not out of the picture to think he had asked for something like this to lighten everyone's spirits.

(you don’t mention having been kicked out last night. luckily, nobody asks.)

“you know, when god shuts a window, he opens a door,” your great aunt says, motioning to the couples all paired up for the dances.

“slim pickings,” your cousin wrinkles his nose, motioning to the local singles at the bar.

“oh your generation— i was married at your age. stop being such a pill. just find someone good looking and go from there,” she huffs.

“bet you $20 that you won’t go walk up to the best lookin’ person in this room right now and give ‘em a dance,” he teases you. his side of the family have always been bolder and brasher than you have, but with a newfound sense of confidence, you don’t feel quite ready to step down.

you bite back. “bigger stakes. i want grandpa’s truck.”

“no chance!” he gawks, but the mischievous grin tells you he likes your mettle. “i know for a fact he signed it to me in the will. you’ll see wednesday.”

“no money. i get a dance, and i get them to last longer than 30 seconds on the bull,” you push, upping the stakes.

“ha! i’d like to see what idiot can last past 10.” he laughs and shakes you on it. “truck’s yours if you can do it.”

“the both of you are so crass,” your great-aunt scolds. “we laid him to rest not hours ago and you’re already pawning off his belongings!”

“i want that truck,” you emphasize, before throwing back one more shot to try and muster the courage to do this.

you scan the room of the people who aren’t family, and your cousin is right. not many options left to try, much less people who seem strong enough to be able to win you that mechanical bull bet.

your eyes land on the tall figure, leaning up against the wall, in that same stupid hat and those stupid boots. you hear the echo in your ear again, but push it away as you approach her.

“hi,” you breathe, wrapping your arms around her neck much too easily. her eyebrows arch nearly off her forehead in surprise, but her hands take to your back with far too much ease.

“hi.” megan says back simply, her nervous eyes looking over your shoulder and then back down at your now-swaying bodies. “is there a reason why your great-aunt looks like she wants to kill me?”

“no,” you grin, and megan can instantly tell you’re up to no good.

“sure it has nothing to do with two girls slow dancing?” she questions, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. she’s so steady on her feet, swaying the two of you along to the song playing over the speakers.

“might,” you continue with the short answers, trying not to give yourself away.

“i figured.” she shakes her head and lets out a snort, but before either of you can question it, her hands are dipping down from your back to the dip of your waist. you want to correct her grip, but you can’t find the words to tell her to move her hand. it feels much, much too comfortable there, like the grooves were made for her strong hands to hold onto.

“if she’s mad about this, she’s gonna hate watching you beat all my boy cousins at riding that mechanical bull,” you laugh.

“what? i’m not getting on that thing.” she wrinkles her nose, motioning over to the bucking machine. “no self respecting bull rider would.”

“i can’t convince you?” you bat your lashes up at her, though the thoughts of the bet are starting to fade from your memory as you look into those perfect brown eyes.

“convince me?” she echoes, laughing. “you want to convince me?”

“maybe i just wanted to see if i’ve still got it.” you’re not sure where this sudden rush of boldness comes from, but you chalk it up to the drinks and the lively vibe of the bar party.

“oh, like you don’t have suckers for you back home?” megan teases, though her voice waves and drops the slightest bit. “i’m sure you’ve got a line waiting out the door for you.”

“i might,” you goad on, curious about her shift in tone.

“please tell me you’re not interested,” she insists, eyebrows knitting together, and part of you buzzes at the way her voice shifts in the slightest.

“not many cowboys in the city to pick from.”

“is that your type?” she inquires, and you feel her grip on you tighten slightly.

“maybe it was, at one point,” you hum, trying to stop yourself from playing with the baby hairs at the base of her neck. “but only the cowboys who’d do anything for me.”

“hm,” is all she says, her eyes searching for something in you. you’re about to say something more, but the song ends and megan lets go of you, excusing herself with a nod of her head. you wonder if you’ve pushed her too far.

you head back to the bar to grab another drink. you’re barely getting the cup from the bartender when you hear an obnoxious rise of cheers from the other end of the room. you look up at what’s causing the ruckus, and feel yourself smile against your will.

stupid megan, riding that damn mechanical bull, her knuckles white as they grip onto the handle and her face tensed with focus. the timer on the wall with big red numbers keeps ticking up, up, up, until she’s set the new bar record without so much as a slip.

“fuck!” you hear your cousin scream from across the bar, throwing his drink angrily into the wall.

you offer a slow clap of congratulations as megan fans herself off with her hat and comes marching up to you.

“hope that’s proof you’ve still got it.” she points a playfully menacing finger in your face. “please don’t go testing any other cowboys. this one will do just fine.”

you feel something pluck at you from deep in your chest. those eyes that know you. those hands that make you feel safe. that voice that unnerves you and comforts you all at once.

the feeling from the diner comes back. home.

“drive me back to the ranch, cowboy?” you ask suddenly, reaching out to her. “i want to get out of here.”

her eyes widen, clearly caught off guard. you can see the debate in her eyes, the pause between the two of you, the quiet, hesitant swallow she takes before opening her mouth again.

“of course,” she nods, grabbing her jacket off the barstool and handing it to you, out of habit. you see her freeze and start to pull her hand back, her uncertain eyes meeting yours.

you grab the jacket from her and step ahead of her into the parking lot, slipping the worn denim over your shoulders. you take a deep inhale. pine and campfires. home.

the drive back up is mostly spent with you listening to her hum along to the radio, your first time listening to country music in god knows how long. her voice is soft as it’s always been, melodic and peaceful, and you’re focusing on the moonlit grass as the truck finally makes it to the trail leading up to the property.

“i— um, thank you, for today,” she breaks the silence, avoiding your gaze to focus on the road. “i’m sorry it wasn’t the other way around.”

“don’t be. i knew my grandpa was at the end of it,” you reassure her. “i’m sure it wasn’t easy for you thinking about your mom.”

“it was easier with you,” she says softly. “thank you again.”

there’s a heavy pause between the two of you. you don’t know what possesses you to speak up, but you do.

“i read your letters,” you blurt. “i think all of them.”

“oh,” she blinks, eyes widening.

“thank you for writing them like you said you would.”

“of course.” she lets out a quiet breath as the truck takes a familiar turn up the road. “thanks for reading them, i guess. never thought they’d see you.”

“is this the cabin where you’re staying?” you wave for her to stop the truck, wanting to get a better look at the tiny log cabin off by the pasture. “my uncle said you fixed the stove in there, got it to heat up.”

“you know me,” megan shrugs dismissively. “still no good at much else but fixing and wrangling.”

you swing the truck door open and step out, wanting to get a closer look at it. it’s tiny, likely only one room, but it suits her somehow. you can picture her so, so cozy here.

“you could come in, and see how the stove works,” megan offers slowly, her eyes hesitantly following yours.

you know it could be a clean end, to ask her to drop you off at the lodge and go from there, but something is calling you to her, and you can’t seem to quiet that voice this time. you nod, and she fidgets with her keys for a moment to get the door open, grabbing a log from the pile in front of the door.

you enter behind her, and she’s tending to the woodfire stove that warms the whole cabin. it’s tiny, exactly how you’d imagined, but the roar of the fire and the coziness of the space makes you admire how megan had managed to make this old abandoned cabin seem like a home.

(or maybe, that’s just megan’s touch.)

“what are you thinking about?” you ask, noting how she keeps her gaze fixed on the stove, her hands in her pocket as you two stand on opposite sides of the fire to warm yourselves.

“just felt nice to dance with you again,” she breathes quietly, as if it’s a confession.

“reminded me of that night in the field,” you admit, without thinking. you notice her brow twitch, and you take a careful step closer to her, tilting your head to try and meet her gaze. your voice quiets. “did it remind you?”

“it did,” she confesses.

the way her voice shifts is stirring something in you. you reach out, gently wrapping your index finger around her pinky, as if to test her.

“i think you should leave,” she breathes quietly, looking down at your now-laced fingers.

“why?” you ask gently, carefully.

“i can’t tell you why,” she answers quickly, something worried in those big brown eyes.

“i want you to tell me why,” you press, and you can feel it in your chest, bursting against your ribs, begging to be spoken out loud.

megan gives you a look, a look of hesitation, and you try to meet her eyes with your own pleading gaze.

“i want to ask you to stay,” she says slowly, “and then it’s going to crush me when you go.”

“so then i just don’t leave,” you whisper back, taking another step closer towards her.

“i can’t keep you here forever.” her brows are furrowed, and you can tell she’s debating something within herself.

“be brave enough to ask,” you press again.

“please stay the night,” she pleads, reaching for your entire hand, eyes sincere and voice shaky. “and then stay forever.”

you feel the thud in your chest multiply into a thunderstorm.

“do you remember my birthday?” you ask, holding tighter onto her hand.

“of course.”

“i wished for you,” you admit. “that i’d get to stay with you.”

“oh,” she says simply, her eyes softening.

“and then you promised me you’d take care of me for the rest of my life, and i felt like i was dreaming.”

megan bites her lip. “i broke any chance of that, didn’t i?”

“i want you to ask me again,” you press one last time, and megan doesn’t leave you waiting.

“i’d like a chance to fix it.” her eyes, wide, pleading, warm, dig into yours. she takes your hand and presses it against her cheek, scanning over every inch of your face. “all of it.”

“i need to hear you—” you start, but she cuts you off quickly. this stupid cowboy, who knows you like the back of her hand.

“i love you, y/n,” she beats you to it, your hand still caressing her face, but she pulls at your belt loop to bring you close, her strong arms pulling you in to press you into her. she presses her forehead into yours, her eyes scrunching shut as if the confession pains her. “i love you like you wouldn’t believe. loved you then, love you now, think i’m gonna be stuck loving you until i’m old and grey.”

you don’t need anything else, and a part of you thinks megan knows that. you pull at her jaw to kiss her, a kiss to make up for each one she’s owed, and the echo silences itself as she kisses you back forcefully, eagerly, her strong arms wrapping around you to lock you in place against her.

back in megan’s arms, you are home.

“i missed you,” she breathes into your neck, sliding your shirt over your head much too easily, the kisses she plants along your collarbone sending shivers through your entire body. “a lot.”

“mmhmm, less talking,” you hum playfully, one hand grasping the back of her neck to keep her close as the other trails off under her shirt and up the hard planes of her stomach.

“i’m serious,” she pushes, nearly a growl. you haven’t heard her voice like this, low and gravelly in your ear, and it sends a twinge through every nerve in your system.

“i know you missed me. you punched some stranger in a bar just ‘cause he tried buying me a drink,” you tease. you pull her hand away from your belt and point to her swollen, bruised knuckles as if to prove your point.

“i punched him ‘cause he touched you,” she blurts, stopping her movements to hover over you in the bed and meet your eyes. her dark eyes are taken over by something that makes your heart race. “i saw red. i couldn’t even look at another person after you left.”

“the whole time?” you ask breathlessly, wanting to squirm beneath her but she has you trapped beneath her strong arms as she simply stares, looking you over. “were you waiting for me to come back or something?”

“i felt sick thinking about anyone else,” she grimaces. “and i felt sick thinking about you with anyone else.”

“i didn’t think i was ever going to see you again,” you confess, and you feel her pause, connecting the dots.

“did you think of me?” she finally asks, eyes searching for something in you.

“all i could do was wish they were you,” you admit.

there’s a heavy pause, megan still hovering above you, but you see something flip in her, those dark eyes unrecognizable. she sits up, pulling her own shirt over her head in a swift motion before she runs a finger along your bottom lip, her calloused thumb tracing your teeth. you’re eager to beg for her to do something, anything at this point, but the moment you try to sit up to kiss her back, she pushes you back down by the sternum, her hand staying pressed against the base of your neck. her forcefulness makes your brain go numb.

“each of them, all i could do was wish they were you each time, megan,” you repeat desperately, seeing the effect it had on her the first time. your wish is granted, and she leans back down to nip a quick, forceful kiss into your neck.

“that’s my girl,” she murmurs into your ear, before stepping back next to the bed to stand and let you watch her undo her belt buckle. you feel your mouth go dry at the sight, your pulse racing at the clank of the metal and the impending zip of her jeans.

“yes i am,” you grin, before she reaches back for you, strong hands pulling at what’s left of your clothes to reclaim what belongs to her.

the next morning, you’re back in time 3 years and reliving the summer romance with the wrangler. you know your timeline is shorter now, but that doesn’t make it any less thrilling to be back in megan’s arms.

she’s carrying you on her back as you two wade through the pond, your arms wrapped around her neck as you bury your face into the crook between her neck and shoulder. your whole near-drowning thing had traumatized her, and she refused to let you near the water without her present. you don’t mind– you’re enjoying the feeling of her strong back, admiring her pretty face and slicking her hair back from the water our of her eyes.

“why did you quit the ranch, when you said you’d stay?” you ask curiously. there’s two days left with her, and you want to use it making up for lost time, unpacking everything left unanswered.

“found something that i loved more than i loved the ranch.” she says, as if it’s that simple. she splashes at a dragonfly along the surface of the water. “it hurt too much to keep thinking of you everywhere i looked.”

“you missed me,” you repeat from the night before.

“if only you knew half of it,” she hums.

“what did you do to that tree out there?” you point to it, the cut up one by the water. “it looks like a wolverine mauled it.”

she hesitates for a split second, before a sheepish smile takes to her features.

“i told myself i couldn’t keep driving myself crazy, so i’d make a notch in the tree for every day i still felt like i missed you. i promised myself that once i stopped putting tallies in there, i’d be officially over you.”

you wait for the resolution, but it never comes.

“i killed the tree. too many notches,” she says flatly. “the days i’d missed you didn’t end.”

“that’s a lie,” you laugh, splashing water onto her face.

she shakes her head and turns to look at you from over her shoulder, her gaze serious.

“y/n, i never got over you. you took a part of me with you,” she breathes.

“i’d like to take all of you with me, this time around,” you tell her quietly.

“as you wish,” she smiles, and you reach for her jaw to melt into a kiss over the song of the cicadas and the frogs.

tuesday comes, and you’ve spent every moment with megan, to the point that it’s your first time coming back to the lodge in almost 24 hours to pick up fresh clothes.

“you plannin’ on staying the rest of your trip up there at the cabin with the kid?” your aunt asks, arching an eyebrow at you as you run into each other by the stairs.

“maybe,” you eye her hesitantly, but she waves you off quickly.

“don’t play coy, i’m not bein’ nosy,” she rolls her eyes, pushing you by the shoulder as a reprimand. “i need to know if i can give your room to your other cousin when she finally gets up here tonight.”

you smile faintly. “that should be fine.”

moments later, megan shows up on one horse for your two person trail ride, and you realize all notions of keeping this to yourselves are good as gone. your aunt gives you a look after she spots the ginger out the window.

“i’ll have the boys take your stuff over to the cabin while you’re gone.”

“thank you,” you nod.

megan spots you through the window, and breaks out into a giant smile as she tips her hat down at you. you look up to see your aunt witnessing the entire thing.

“i’m glad you came back, y/n.” she says simply. “i think we all are.”

“i am too,” you finally admit. she waves you off, and you slip out the door to go run into your cowboy’s arms.

the night before the will-reading, you get an email that your flight is delayed til thursday, and it gives you an extra few hours with megan. you change your train ride to thursday morning, and the two of you spend the extra time locked away in the cabin.

“i owe you a real apology,” she mumbles, pressing her lips into your shoulder blade from behind as she spoons you. her voice is soft against the combination of evening crickets and curious owls. “i’m sorry about everything.”

“you already apologized,” you shake your head, watching the flames from the oven cast shadows against the wall, outlining her face into the wood. “i forgive you. i owe you an apology too.”

“you have nothing to be sorry about,” she says back quickly, her fingertips dragging along the skin of your thigh and up to your hip.

“i tried to push you to heal sooner than you were ready for. i thought i could fix you.” you had done your own reflection, and granted, it doesn’t excuse how things ended, but you know there’s no moving beyond this without accountability. “i wouldn’t know what it’s like to miss someone like that. i judged you for something unimaginable. i’m sorry.”

she kisses the dip between your jaw and your ear, her nose pressing into your neck.

“it used to be easy to just run away, but i think i’m healing confronting it head on,” she says quietly.

“proud of you,” you murmur back, reaching to pull her hand to your lips and kiss along her almost-healed knuckles.

“i wish you could have met her,” she says suddenly, her lips still against your neck, and your heart aches for her.

“i’m sure she was perfect,” you say simply, and megan nods in approval.

“she would say the same about you.”

wednesday. the will reading, which they decide to do on the porch of the ranch, as your grandpa would have wanted.

your cousin is less than thrilled when the attorney reads off the list of allocations and indicates that grandpa’s truck is indeed in his name. he gives you the keys as soon as they’re handed to him, and megan’s eyes widen in surprise.

“the old ford?” she questions, her voice quiet to not disrupt the rest of the proceeding. “it’s your uncle’s favorite.”

“uh, it was your favorite if i remember correctly,” you laugh. “you spent so much time fixing that stupid thing up.”

“i fucking loved that thing,” she beams, and you realize maybe that was your motivation this whole time. “you’re so cool.”

your cousin’s whining voice bursts you and megan out of your bubble.

“y/n’s not even listening, and she’s got the ranch in her fucking name!” your cousin bemoans.

you feel your heart fall into your stomach. “excuse me?”

“i told him i’ll take care of it until i’m tired, but i won’t turn into old pete and waste my life wrangling cattle til i’m grey.” your uncle dusts his hands on his jeans, getting up from the rocking chair where he was seated. “we don’t have kids. i saw this coming. he said you were the only person who saw it for what he saw it for.”

“but med school is–” you start, but he waves you off.

“i’ve got a few more good years left in me. do what you gotta do, then sell it when the time is right.”

“that’s all in your name,” the lawyer nods at you as a dismissal, and you immediately turn to meet megan’s wide eyes.

“holy shit,” she says simply in disbelief, and you hear your great-aunt grunt in disapproval.

“you could give it to the kid,” your aunt suggests, motioning to megan. “we all know she’d take care of it like nobody’s business.”

you look at megan, who stares back at you, dumbfounded.

“what would you want to do with it?” you ask.

“baby, it’s the fucking ranch,” she gapes. you take her hand and pull her a few steps away to hide out inside, away from the ears of your family.

“do you want to stay and watch it with my uncle, while i’m gone?” you ask her gently, holding both hands in yours, offering her the solution you feel she’s been waiting for. “you could go back to your old life.”

for some reason, the offer feels like you’re letting her go. but you know how much this property meant to megan, and something about her coming back to claim it as its steward feels so, so right.

but instead, she looks at you with determined eyes. she shakes her head.

“i’m not making the same mistake twice,” she nods, assuring you. she gives your hands a squeeze. “i choose you, and everything else will turn out alright.”

“i don’t know if you’d be happy in the city,” you sigh, brushing your fingertips across her sun-kissed cheeks.

“not running from anything any more.” she grabs your hand off her face and presses a kiss into your open palm. “i’m happiest where i’m with you.”

“okay,” you breathe. “so we let my uncle keep going til he retires. does that mean you’ll come with me now?”

“i’d need to get brucey,” she says hesitantly. “and he doesn’t fly very well.”

“i’ll go with you to get him.”

“you will?”

“let me fly home, then i’ll come to wherever you are. we’ll road trip, move you out, grab bruce. when is your lease up?”

“i’m monthly, work for lodging and pay.”

“okay. so we get bruce, you move in with me in the city. i start med school, you…”

you pause, seeing the look in her eyes. the planning, the talking about the future so concretely, it scares her, you know it does. the last time her face changed like this was your last day, that summer. you feel yourself want to vomit.

but megan knows you, and she can sense your apprehension. she reaches for your hand, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“i can work on cars,” she offers gently, a smile on her lips. “until you’re done with school.”

“that’s an option.” you nod, beaming at her optimism. they feel like shaky steps towards you, not away. your eyes water at the thought of a happy future with her, one you had imagined was ripped away from you.

“or work with animals.” she grins back.

“or go to trade school,” you build on her idea.

“the future, it’s scary,” she breathes. “but it’s gonna come whether i’m ready or not. might as well get ahead of it.”

“and then i finish school, do a fellowship, and once i’m finished, we come back.”

“really?” her eyes light up brighter than anything you’ve ever seen. “you don’t want to sell it?”

“i don’t need a busy life. just a rewarding one,” you tell her, smiling. “small towns need doctors too.”

“i don’t want you to give up your dreams,” she says worriedly, tilting her head in concern.

“you taught me how to slow down. please don’t expect me to be helping wrangling baby cows every morning, but i wouldn’t mind you still being a cowboy. it’s what you live for.” you reach up to tilt her chin back up, reassuring her as you fix her hat. “it’s not giving up. it's a beautiful compromise.”

she grins back at you, and takes the hat off her head to fix it on your own head.

“i like compromise with you.”

your final night before your 6am train ride to the airport, she takes you camping in the fields.

she explains the concept of a harvest moon— a full moon so big and so bright, early farmers could work all night collecting their harvest by moonlight alone.

the fire she’d built starts to dim down, and you feel the exact same way. you could watch her in the moonlight for the whole night.

“that’s sagittarius.” she points up an arrangement of stars, her feet crossed and her head propped up on a backpack she’s using as a pillow. you’re laying so comfortably cuddled into her, your head resting on her chest, lulled into a cozy haze by the song of the mountain and her perfect voice in your ear.

“no way,” you drawl, forever impressed by her knowledge.

“and that’s asparagus.”

you blink quickly in confusion. “what?”

“and that’s me getting a headshot in fortnite.”

“you’re stupid.” you push into her shoulder, laughing. “i knew you were full of shit.”

she smiles back and presses a sweet kiss into the top of your head, letting her lips linger against your hair.

“i’ll see you in a week?” you ask, and the question doesn’t feel as heavy as you had thought it would.

“yes you will.” she kisses your head again, humming into your hair. “that’s a promise.”

“thank you.”

“i had you once, and that meant everything to me,” she tells you, breathing you in once more. “i think i spent my whole life waiting for you.”

“i’m here now,” you remind her, cuddling in closer.

“never letting you go again,” she reassures you.

(you believe her.)

“hey baby, the neighbor is asking again when you’re going to sell him the truck,” you call out, pushing past the door into the apartment.

you’re kicking your shoes off in the hallway, giving a quick rub to bruce’s head as he greets you. you hear the rumbling from the kitchen, and you pop in to see the jeans and a vintage tshirt, with her head and torso under the sink, doing something to the garbage disposal.

“he can kiss my ass. that thing is staying in the parking spot that i pay for until the end of our lease,” she threatens back, sliding out from under the sink and washing her hands before hitting a switch. in an instant, the same garbage disposal that was broken this morning is magically back and working. “i’m not driving anything smaller.”

you laugh, reaching out for her. “you and your stupid ego.”

“hey, everywhere i’ve ever lived, lifted trucks are like, the shit,” megan grins, wrapping her arms around your waist to pull you in for a greeting kiss. “it’s the biggest thing we work on at the shop.”

“oh, i bet you’re the number one lifted truck modder in the city,” you nod playfully.

“i’m alright.” she shrugs, wrinkling her nose, but she’s fixed on the topic of her damn truck. “thinking about how sad you’d look getting dropped off by some rizzless loser in a cowboy hat and boots, in a fucking minivan or something. just wouldn’t sit well with me.”

“yeah, all my classmates think the coolest think about me is you,” you gripe. megan’s insistence on taking you to class every day, in the truck, wearing what she always does, has made you quite the talking point among your first year med school classmates.

“so crazy, ‘cause i think you’re the coolest thing about me,” she grins, looking down at you with a glint in her eyes. “y’know what else i’m thinking about? summer time.”

“that’s still 2 months away,” you laugh at her eagerness. your last summer break before medical school fully takes over your life, planned to be spent on the ranch with megan, rotting away without a care in the world.

“we could get married up there,” she suggests out of nowhere, but her voice is so so sweet, it makes your heart melt.

“what is this, farmer needs a wife?” you tease, arching a brow at her. “i thought it was supposed to be a vacation.”

“okay, okay,” she holds her hands, clearly playfully displeased with your response.

“hold your horses, there,” you goad on, and she narrows her gaze at you.

“oh, now you’re just being a pain.”

you grin. “if the boot fits.”

“enough with the puns,” she groans, rolling her eyes, grabbing you by the waist to swing you easily over her shoulder and whisk you into the bedroom, your scream laughs filling every corner of your apartment.

your summer vacation comes, and the chilly montana nights welcome you both back with open arms.

she slips her jacket over your shoulders, and the motion feels as natural as breathing. you see the front pocket is still full of the flowers she picked for you along the trail, meant to press into your book along with a few of the letters she had written you. you keep your favorite letter one in your back pocket, eager to read it to her in between chapters of your book.

you’re walking behind her, following her steps as she confidently leads you two through the field. she’s singing something mindlessly to herself, her voice filling the air comfortingly.

you tuck your hand into the pocket, trying to warm your fingers, and feel yourself freeze. your fingertips trace along the edge of the object, the edges too wide to be her swiss army knife, the top being the wrong texture to be a pack of cigarettes she might be hiding–

your pulse quickens as you realize inside the pocket, you feel a little box. small, velvet, that kind of box.

“where are you taking me?” you ask quickly, the realization striking you.

“don’t worry about it,” she waves you off. you can’t see her face, but you can hear the grin in her voice, and you can’t tell if you finding the box is part of her plan or an innocent mix up. with megan, it could quite frankly go either way, and you can’t tell which one makes your heart swell more. “ain’t anyone told you that it’s bad luck to question a cattle wrangler on a full moon?”

“you’re making that up.” you try to keep your voice even, not wanting to ruin her plan as the two of you keep walking, but you feel the back of your throat go dry.

“maybe,” she shrugs playfully.

“stupid cowboy,” you try to bite back, but you feel your voice shaky, and she simply reaches back behind you for your hand. she grabs you, and the two of you keep walking, her paces strong, steady, keeping you alongside her easily. she smiles knowingly, and tips her hat down, her eyes fixed on the skyline.

“i love you too, city girl.”

(the letter rings through your ears, your favorite one out of all of them, etched into your memory at this point so deeply, you know it by heart.

i don’t know if you’ll ever read these, but i fell in love with you that day that you read to me. which one? your smart ass is going to ask. not the one by the creek, or the one by the cows. it was the one on the roof, where you told me to quit smoking. i realized that day i have something really, really beautiful i’m excited to live for. i really, really love you, y/n.

-your cowboy, forever.)

#megan skiendiel x reader #megan x reader #katseye x reader #katseye megan #megan katseye #megan skiendel imagine #☆ﾟ coolwyous works.#☆ﾟ coolwyous golden hour.

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keferon · 6 months ago

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I should be asleep but this is consuming me.

So have this poorly thought out fic drabble idea of mine:

Prowl is in pain, hurt and agony, physically and emotionally. He shouldn't have let Jazz convince him, he should have listened to that tingly uncertain feeling on his spark about this

But dammit was Jazz so...so convincing. It pained him to realise how much he wanted to trust the organic.

What didn't help was that bastard in front of him giving him mock grief. Prowl knew he did not care at all about how he feels, he knew there was some sort of sick enjoyment to all of this.

"Sorry, he couldn't come visit again. He actually had to help out with the newest mech, in fact, this prototype had one of your own parts in it!" Prowl wanted to sob, twisted asshole.

Suddenly, something seemed to have caught the organic's attention. Prowl didn't hear it at first, but once the man in front of him turned around in confusion, he heard it, there was some sort of commotion on the other side of the door.

Suddenly, before any of them could question what was going on, the doors burst out open with an explosion, causing many tools to clatter to the ground as the ground shook.

"GET AWAY FROM MY PARTNER!" Prowl, in a weak yet desperate attempt, turned his head to look at the direction of the voice. He recognised it-

"Jazz?" He spoke weakly. That seemed to have crushed the organic's soul, his face crumbling from his previous rage, before, in a blink of an eye, it turned back to fury. Fury so strong it could kill whoever dared look.

"Jazz?!" The twisted man standing in front of Prowl's face looked offended if not straight out annoyed at the other's presence. "What are you-?" He couldn't even finish his sentence before the other dropped whatever it was he had been holding and jumped on top of him. The two fought for a while, Jazz punching the guy a few times on the face before grabbing him by the neck of his shirt and throwing him to the other side of the room.

Jazz huffed, making sure to keep his eyes on his target for a second to see if that was enough to have knocked him out. It was. And once he was sure the guy wouldn't come back at him, he turned to look at Prowl, who so far, has only made move to watch the whole thing go down.

It took a while for the mech to properly process how Jazz looked, how he looked at him. Guilt, pain, sadness, exasperation even. It almost seemed like he was...crying?

"Prowl!" His partner? Ex-partner? (He wasn't sure anymore), ran to grasp his face, and he let him, to weak to fight back like he wanted to. Then he felt it, small droplets of water fall down his faceplates, 'Oh, so he was crying'. "I'm so sorry, i shouldn't have brought you here- we, we need to get you out-" as he moved, Prowl took notice of how dishevelled the other looked, the sudden smell of iron making him realise that he seemed to be covered in blood, if it was his own or not, Prowl wasn't sure, perhaps it was both. Taking a closer look, he started to notice all the small bruises and scratches on Jazz's face, in fact he took notice of a limp on his left leg too.

The other just seemed to be mumbling to himself as he tried to free Prowl, who so far has not spoken all that much, he felt too weak and tired, and he really had nothing to say other than a simple reply to what Jazz said before but he didn’t process it till now

"You really shouldn't have..."

---

Ok that's all i have rn, bc I'm not much of a writer and idk how to write these characters so they might be a bit OOC sorry ^^;;

But feel free to like add and/or fix anything to this.

Just wanna add the note that maybe, the reason Jazz found out is bc he recognised Prowl's plating on the new mech thing they built ;)

OH MY GOD I CANT EVEN

RAAAAHHHHHHHHHH THIS IS. OH FUCK. THI s. SO GOOD AND PAINFUL IM ASCENDING TO SOME NEW UNDISCOVERED DIMENSIONS

ALSO. oh my fucking god you have galaxy brain for this. imagine the horror Jazz feels when he sees this random new robot his boss wants to test. And it’s plating is so freaking familiar. He runs his hands along the panels. And he recognises them, even repainted. Because he spent so much time sitting on them, repairing them, crawling on them with his magnets. Sleeping on them even. He sees the “scar” from the time he helped Prowl to fix his armor and welded some cracks in it.

And now the fucking plates are here but Prowl isn’t.

#mecha pilot jazz au

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 8 months ago

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could you do a pregnant reader x rafe

a/n: okay but that got my brain buzzing, so i simply had to get all the thoughts out in the form of headcannons (written right before i fell asleep, sorry if it shows)

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

okay, so picture this: he's the asshole frat boy, you're the cute college chick who unlike him is actually there for the education.

also, he's your ex...

you were only together for a few months, but still, that shit was intense, the relationship nearly broke you from all of the high highs and low lows

it was exhausting being in love with an asshole, hence why you're no longer together

he was totally the type of toxic boyfriend to only wanna fuck you without a condom, either by pressuring you or just straight up lying and then rolling the rubber right off either as soon as he got you into doggystyle or like halfway through when you were too cockdrunk to notice the difference.

so that might have been why a month or so after the two of you broke up, you were late...

i'm picturing that you finally took a test at the most chaotic moment: at the beginning of a party in a bathroom, your roommate doing a quick run to a pharmacy while drunk folks try to barge down the door.

when your roomie comes back, you're totally freaking out, full-on melt-down, while she sits on the counter beside the sink and tries to calm you down, thinking up other solutions to your symptoms.

but the damn stick shows you two lines.

you were pregnant.

"so are you gonna tell him?" your roomie asks you, but you're still on a completely different planet, trying to comprehend the result.

"huh?"

"rafe. are you gonna tell him? i mean, i assume that it's him, unless there's somebody else, in which, how dare you not spill."

"what? no, there's no one else. of course it's rafe's..."

"...so? are you gonna tell him?"

but you have no idea if you want to or even should. you don't even have the slightest idea what you might wanna do about it all, if you should keep the baby or not.

but timing really is a funny funny thing, because when you then decide to go home to process everything (because damn, now you can't stay at the party and celebrate the close call), you bump into none other then the man, the myth, the whore himself: rafe fucking cameron.

now, you're straight up crying at this point, just overwhelmed as fuck, so of course he doesn't let you just slip by without figuring out what in the fuck is going on, if there is some douchebag he needs to go beat up.

"there only douchebag you need to beat up is yourself," you spit out before you can stop the phrase.

"oh, come on, baby. you can't still be mad at me? it's been like a month."

"please, rafe... just let me go home..."

"no, not until you tell me what's wrong!"

and when you actually say it out loud, it's like the awful party music fades and the buzzing crowd around you disappears.

"i'm pregnant."

at first, he just stands there stunned, staring straight through you.

if he's holding a glass, then he definitely drops and smashes it on the ground.

but then he grabs your arm and wordlessly drags you with him, all the way up to his room.

that's when, in the dull quiet of his dark dorm room, that it really sinks in.

for a while he just stares at you, letting his eyes scan down your frame, surely imagining what you'd look like in a few months.

and then, out of the blue, he whispers, "marry me..."

"...what?"

"marry me," he utters with more confidence, "i know this isn't exactly how it should go, but babe... i still love you. i never stopped... let me take care of you, let me take care of our baby, let me give you the life we deserve. so what do you say? will you marry me?"

but you just stare back at him as if he's gone mad.

"...no."

your stomach starts to flip as you then see the first signs of rage flare up on his features, "what do you mean no?"

"rafe, i'm supposed to be finishing up my degree, being young and dumb, not getting knocked up by the last man i'd ever want to be forever stuck with."

of course he then totally pops off, pushes you into a corner, yelling, screaming, all the nine yards

saying all this stuff about how you should be grateful that he ever gave you his time of day in the first place, nevertheless get you pregnant with his kid.

sooo, me thinks the next steps in their story gets pretty dark, pretty fast....

we talking him taking you with him home to tannyhill because school is simply too stressful for you and the baby (in his opinion)

mayhaps he straight up locks you in a room and acts all nice, pretends that nothing is wrong with the way he handles it all

forced marriage? yes? no? yes.

him getting fucking FERAL when you start to show?

also him getting feral long before that, taking the chance to make sure you're really, totally, 100% pregnant, if you know what i mean (in other words: all of the creampies ever, just over and over again, fucking load after load deep inside of you + so so much cumplay)

and the ending? i imagine that one day, after your kid is born, you run away, baby in your arms and not much else.

you try and create a quiet little life for you and your child somewhere far away

but eventually (of course, just for the sake of ✨drama✨) he finds you...

#lea’s writing #dark!rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x female reader #drew starkey smut #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron brainrot #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #rafe cameron x kook!reader #dark!rafe cameron x reader #pregnant!reader #rafe cameron headcanons #dark fic

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moonyspupp · 8 months ago

Text

All Yours

Lucius Malfoy X Female Reader

SMUT

CW: breaking up,drinking,slightly drunk sex, smut, age gap (readers like 19-20 also)

Had to take the lack of Lucius posts into my own hands.. I hope you enjoy this! It’s 5 am rn..

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It’s been quite some time since you and Draco broke up. After dating since your 5th year, he decided to ultimately break things off with you. Heartbroken, you never understood why but could no longer fight his choice. You truly believed the two of you would last even after graduation, but yet you were wrong. For a while you were left hurt and wondering. You didn’t fully grasp the reasons behind his decision, and your attempts to make him reconsider had ultimately been useless.

—

You clutch your tote bag as you make your way down the Diagon Alley. Bustling with activity; witches and wizards of all ages came in and out of shops, their voices filling every inch of the pace with sound. There was a melancholic energy in the air, as your memories started to flood back. You had come here to attempt to forget the pain of your recent breakup. As you walked down the cobblestones, the sights and sounds of the alley enveloped you, slightly distracting you.

“I need a new wand..” you sigh to yourself remembering the fit of rage from before was the reason your wand broke.

You brush that feeling aside, spotting Ollivanders and changed your path to that direction. You reminisce the date you had with Draco there many years and it frustrated you. Though this was supposed to be a distraction, everything seemed to remind you of Draco and the pain of his decision. Your feel your heart grow heavier with each step

You continue to walk past, each one bringing a memory you would rather forget.

You step into the small wand shop, the smell of wood and magic filling the air. The shopkeeper, a familiar face organizing bottle greets you as you walked in

"Welcome. How can I help you today?" he greets you turning his head

“Hi sir, I’m looking for a new wand” you say giving him a weak smile.

He smiles back and gestures around the room full of wands. You busily browse the selection of wands, your attention focused on finding the right one. The large selection causing you to take your times Little do you know that Lucius Malfoy, has entered the shop.

He notices you almost immediately, his sharp grey eyes observing you as you move around the shop. He watches you intently, your face filled with a soft yet sad expression, of course he knew why that was.

Lucius continues to observe you silently, his eyes following your every move. He recognizes the signs of heartbreak. He walks up beside the shopkeeper not wanting to disturb you, standing a short distance away from you, his silver eyes still studying your every movement.

“This one should be it ..” you muttered to yourself as you observe the wand.

You trudge your way to the counter to pay. Letting out a soft sigh, you wanted to go back home already. You a signal to the shopkeeper that you've made your selection. The elderly man smiles at you kindly, nodding in understanding.

"Ah, found the one that spoke to you, I see." he chuckles, reaching out to take the wand from you. He begins the process of wrapping up the wand up intricately.

“Excuse me, young lady." Lucius Malfoy's voice chimes in from a few feet away.

Your eyes dart up to see who the voice was coming from, so familiar yet you hoped to yourself that it wasn’t who you thought. It was indeed, Draco’s father. Your heart started racing at the unexpected sight of him, why would he be here of all places? Your lips parted slightly as if to say something but before you could he cuts you off.

"(y/n), how have you been?” Lucius steps forward, his silver eyes locking onto yours. There's a hint of curiosity there, as he gives you a slight smirk

“Oh , sir.. I’m.. I’m doing well, just here to buy a wand.” You say stuttering still not exactly sure what to say.

He raises an eyebrow, a hint of amusement appears on his face as he picks up on your stuttering. He steps closer, looking at the man continuing to pack the wand.

“I’ll pay for it (y/n), don’t worry about it.” Lucius tells the shopkeeper, the same smirk never leaving his face.

The shopkeeper nodded smiling handing him the wand. “Wait sir it’s fi-“ before you can even finish protesting, Lucius is already handing the man the gold to pay. Your surprised eyes meet his gaze as he chuckles at your expression.

After the payment was finished, he turns to you, holding the wrapped up wand in his hand.

"Follow me." he said sternly, before walking out of the shop and into the alley, expecting you to follow.

Your face still remained surprised by the whole event that just took place at the shop. You did NOT expect to see him whatsoever. Standing there in a slight trance, you realize what Lucius said and quickly walked out the shop thanking the man.

It took you a bit of time to catch up to him but Lucius was standing a little way down the alley, leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest.

"Took you long enough." He said almost casually, pushing himself from off from the wall to stand. He began walking at a relaxed pace, that you would continue to follow, his silver eyes watching you.

“About the wand sir.. thank you.” You muttered quietly trying not to meet his gaze

Even during the time you did date Draco, Lucius wasn’t ever up for much of a conversation. Not that he didn’t like you, but he preferred to watch you from afar as Draco doted on you. You weren’t sure why he had bought the wand for you, but nevertheless you were grateful, though it does have you wondering.

Glancing over his shoulder at you, his smirk widening as he heard your soft words of thanks. He stopped walking for a brief moment and turned to face you, studying your face for a moment. You felt your face turning slightly red at his eyes peered at you.

"You’re welcome." Lucius said, his eyes never leaving yours. He couldn't help but find slight amusement in your attempt to avoid his gaze, almost intriguing him.

You give him a small nod as the two of you continued to walk. You couldn’t brush off the way he made you feel. “Your exes father for gods sake” you thought as you tried to pull yourself together.” Yet the feeling kept coming back. Was he always this handsome? You thought as you looked at the side of his face as he walked.

Lucius notices your stolen glances, not saying a word, he smirks.

“Shit..” your face begins to flush up again as your mind began to race, trying to break the awkward heavy silence you asked him about where he was taking you.

“Where are we going sir?” You asked softly with a slightly tilted head.

“Malfoy manor dear, shouldn’t be much longer.” He said his eyes still on the cobblestone street. “Draco isn’t there, so don’t worry.” He said letting out a small soft laugh

You stay quiet, feeling embarrassed about Draco and the end of your relationship with him, your walking becomes slower as you begin to think about it again. You grit your teeth slightly at his words, not taking offense but still a bit hurt.

He slows his steps a little, falling back to walk closer to you. His shoulders slumped slightly. His eyes continued to glance over at you, as if he was searching for something.

"Tell me (y/n), how are you really holding up?" He asked with a sincere voice.

You stop in your tracks after being confronted, letting out a loud sigh. You begin to feel your body shake at the thought of it

“Not.. as well as I wish I was sir.” You muttered quietly feeling your fists ball up at your side.

Picking up on your tension, his eyes caught the sight of your clenched fists. He lets out a soft sigh, steps slowing even further. He looked over at you, a mixture of concern and sadness on his face.

"Still hurting from the breakup, I see." He said bluntly, but in his voice you sensed no sarcasm or malice, but sincerity

“Mhm” you mumbled “I’ll be okay eventually sir don’t worry about me” you gave him a weak smile

“That's what they all say, 'I’ll be okay’" he playfully mocked smirking

You give him a pout at his words, still feeling embarrassed about the whole thing with Draco, your eyes brim slightly with tears. You turn away slightly as to not let Lucius see.

His eyes widen in surprise as he notices the tears in your eyes. He had not expected that his words would have such an effect on you, but then again, the pain in your eyes tells no lies. Lucius lets out a sigh, stepping closer to you. The mocking expression was gone from his face, replaced with one of guilt.

"Come now. No need to cry over that boy." He tuts as he wiped a tear away from your eye. He lets out a sigh feeling guilty.

You slowly nod trying to regain composure of the situation, trying your best not to cry in front of your exes father.

“Let’s get you inside dear.” Lucius said as he wraps an arm around your shoulder. Feeling a slight sense of comfort , the two of you make your way inside the familiar manor.

He guided you up the stone steps and through the big oak doors. Looking around as you take in the elegant dark surroundings. Your head turns around every corner; reminiscing the family portraits. A sense of nostalgia fills you as the familiarity of the house sinks in.

He led you down a long hallway, lined with the beautiful walls and expensive items. Eventually, you came to a stop in front of a large oak door. Lucius pushed the door open, gesturing for you to enter ahead of him.

You oblige and step in seeing a small but elegant library. The room is filled with bookshelves with all kinds of titles with a slight aged appearance. The center of the library sits an oak desk, it’s surface littered with parchment and a few very expensive looking bottles. The sound of the crackling fire place comforts you further, coziness begins to replace your sadness. You continue to marvel around the library and its quirks until your attention is soon drawn to the other side of the room, where a plush velvet couch sits in the corner.

“Have a seat” Lucius says, gesturing to the couch before making his way to the desk to pour two glasses of what looks to be firewhisky

He comes back holding the two glasses, handing you one before he sits down next to you, the couch large enough that it allowed for a small comfortable distance between the two of you. He leaned back into the soft cushions, his look turns confident as his eyes turned back at you.

“Feeling better now?” He asks with a smile before taking a sip of firewhisky

“Yes sir thank you” you smile sweetly at him before tasting the alcohol yourself. The warm stinging feeling engulfs your throat. Taking a deep breath after a few more sips; the realization that you were now alone with Lucius begins to set in; making you feel slightly heavy with forbidden desires.

You pick up a small book on the table next to the couch as you set down the glass, you began to read in an attempt to once again distract you.

This time for a different reason.

The silence grows between the two of you, broken occasionally the crackle of the fireplace.

Lucius lets out a small content hum as he stretched his legs out, crossing one knee over the other as he continued to look at you. His eyes flicked over your features again, noticing the small things he hadn’t during the time you were with Draco. The way your lips curled up whenever you were embarrassed, and the sweetness of your voice. Even the way your hair framed your face, so much about you enamored him the more he thought about it. He would be lying if he said that something about you didn’t interest him in a very certain way. He let out a small sigh, and looked away, turning his gaze towards the fireplace.

Suddenly, the air in the room seemed heavier. Silence continued as the two of you sat there. You occasionally looked up from your book to see Lucius deep in thought, his eyes fixed on the flames in the fireplace swishing his glass. After a few more moments of tense silence he spoke again.

“Tell me, (y/n), how long were you and Draco dating again?” He asked with his gaze still fixed on the fireplace as he took another swig of his glass.

“Mm four years or so sir.” You said quietly breaking the view from your book to look at him. Your body began to warm up just a bit, including your core. You press your thighs together in order to get some relief.

“Four years. It’s a long time.” Lucius said quietly, before letting out a sigh. His expression relaxed as he listened to your response. Finally processing it, he let out a scoff, shaking his head slowly.

“Such a fool to let a girl like you out his grasp, unbelievable really” he mutters softly before setting the empty glass down. You can sense his cool facade slipping away as his legs spread ever so slightly, now touching yours

“What makes you say that sir?” You mumble feeling a slight buzz of the alcohol

Lucius smirks at your words, noticing the alcohol starting to make you tipsy, he himself feeling it as well. He lets out a sigh. He looks over at you, his eyes scanning up and down your figure briefly, taking in the way the soft lights caressed your relaxed face.

"You're a beautiful girl, (y/n). You deserve better than being tossed aside like that.” His words sounded sincere, especially considering the amount of alcohol the two of you had drank so far.

"A girl like you... deserves a man that can appreciate you." He said leaning back slightly into the couch. Lucius’s eyes continued their gazing, committing every inch of you into memory

“You mean that sir?” You ask him leaning towards him slightly. You look at him through your lashes pouting

Lucius chuckled faintly, his eyes flicking over your face as you leaned closer. He was aware of the way your body inched closer, too aware and he couldn’t help but smile, enjoying the way you looked at him with such an innocent yet seductive look. He feels his own desire growing at the sight of it.

“Of course I mean it, darling.” He said smirking slightly biting his bottom lip

He leaned in a little closer, closing the small distance between the two of you even further. He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your jawline for a moment, admiring the view in front of him

“You’re a charming little thing, aren’t you?” He chuckled, his voice low and smooth as firewhisky. His eyes were almost glued to your face, taking in every little detail he could.

You let out a small laugh at his words placing a hand on his neck and trailing down, his heart nearly slips a beat at the feeling, feeling his better judgment begin to slip. His eyes met yours, both full of need as the air begins to darken with desire.

“You’re making it difficult to keep my composure, darling. You have no idea what you’re doing to me right now.” he murmured, his voice deep and sharp

In that moment you have made your mind up, you no longer cared if this was Draco’s father. You needed to have this man. Right here right now. His breath hitches as you begin to rub his thigh through his pants, gradually moving closer to his hardening member.

Lucius’s breath becomes heavier at your touch, his hand remained on your face, his thumb still stroking your cheek. He had leaned in even further without even noticing, his lips almost touching yours now. His other hand found its way to your waist now resting on your hip, gripping slightly.

“I wonder if my son realizes what he lost,” he said quietly as his lips met yours

The kiss was firm and passionate as they moved roughly against yours, the taste of alcohol filled your mouth as the kiss continued. His hand on your hip squeezed slightly, pulling you closer to him. The heat from you bodies now being shared in a moment of lust. The kiss quickly became more intense, Lucius's need for you building even more with every passing second. The sound of hot breaths and huffs becoming louder. His tongue flicked over your lips as you quickly let him, silently asking for more. His hand on your hip tightened its grasp, pulling you onto his lap, pressing your body firmly against his.

You wanted this badly.

You moan into the kiss as he ran his arms up and down your figure, breaking the kiss his fingers reaching down to the bottom of your shirt as he quickly slipped it off you. Your breasts sat so beautifully in your black bra, making Lucius’s eyes widen. Using his free hand he shamelessly unclasped the back before tossing them aside. Your top half now bare before his eyes. Lucius spent no time groping them, as he pulled on your hardened nipples; earning a wince from you.

The feeling was too much for you to not act on as you started to slowly grind yourself onto his lap, the light from the fireplace contouring your curves in such a way that made you look ethereal. He groaned at the feeling as he gripped your breast firmly. He wrapped his other arm around your waist, holding you in place as his lips began to dance against yours. He let out a small moan, the sound deep and guttural, the feeling of you in his lap driving him.

“Naughty girl aren’t you (y/n)” he tuts with his heavy breath, he subconsciously began to move his own hips against yours.

You bury your face into his neck as your arms come up to shoulders, letting out a small whimper in response to his words. His chest pressed tightly against yours as you feel your hearts beat against each other

His arms find their way down to your waist once more and he groans at your innocent response. Lips now biting and kissing at your neck, his mind was now a blur making him lose control.

Lucius let out a low growl as he pulled you down to the smooth wood floor, his silver eyes dark with desire as he looked down at you, your body now positioned between his legs. He reached out, threading his fingers in your hair, his grasp firm.

You whimper softly at the feeling of your hair being tugged so suddenly, hearing the sound of his belt unbuckling you look up at him with needy eyes and slightly parted lips

Lucius lets out a low hum as he looks down at you, seeing the needy look in your eyes as you bite your lip he lets out a low moan. The sound he made was low and guttural, almost a growl, the sight of below him driving him wild as he pulled out his large swollen cock in front your face

“Look at you, on your knees, pouting so sweetly for me...” "Such pretty little lips... It's almost a shame what I'm thinking of doing to them." he murmurs with his voice deep and raspy as his fingers continue to tangle in your hair.

You nearly drool at the sight of Lucius in front of you, you paw at his thigh as he jerked your head forward to meet his length. You begin to grind on your heel for any time of relief, feeling your panties soaking.

“Tell me what you want pet.” Lucius growls

“Y..your cock sir.. please let me suck it” you say babbling with slightly closed eyes, your face now mere inches away from his throbbing length seeing the top weep with precum as it runs down the side.

"Open your mouth, darling. I want something of yours..." Lucius commanded, his voice thick with desire. His eyes darkened even more at his own words, the lust and desire filling his very being. He pulled on your hair again, tilting your head back further, forcing your lips to part even more.

Your face trembles as you oblige by sticking your tongue out far for him, your breathing ragged as you wait for the one things you needed most right now.

"Good girl" he smirked as his eyes fixated on your parted lips and needy face. He taps his leaking member onto your tongue a few times, the precum sticking to your lips as he does

You hear a few curses spill out of his mouth before you feel his cock down your throat. He pulls back and slams back into your throat repeatedly as your muffled cries vibrate around him. Hearing him moan you feel tears begin to well at your eyes at the feeling. With teary eyes, you look up at Lucius and he growls at the sight of you taking his cock so well.

"Look at me," he mutters, his voice thick with possession and desire. "Keep your eyes on me. I want to see those beautiful eyes, my lovely little pet." His locks eyes with you, his grey eyes sharp and focused on your own.

You moan around him at his words, now grinding on his foot, you desperately needed more from him.

Lucius pulls your hair back roughly popping his cock out your swollen lips. You pant hard as you try to steady your breath. He releases the grip on your hair as you lean on his leg. He brings his hand to your chin to get you to look up at his breathless face.

"You have no idea how beautiful you look down there, darling... On your knees for me." he breathed, his grip on your chin firm as he spoke.

“More sir please..” you say moaning, you feel your need grow more than ever, you needed Lucius to take you. You slip your panties off desperately and hug onto his leg as you continue to grind; your eyes never leaving his

Lucius could feel your need and desire growing as you pleaded with him, begging for more. The grip on your chin tightens as you grind against him. The sight was almost too much for him to bear. He was already too lost in his own desire to deny you of your wants.

He pulls you onto his lap roughly, your weeping cunt soaking his own needy member. His lips finding every bit of skin they could on your neck leaving a number of love bites in their trail. His hands caressed your body as you grinded and moaned against him.

"Are you sure you can handle it, darling? You're being so needy already." he said letting out a low growl and he continued to attack your neck.

You nod moaning at his touch, your arms wrap around his neck as his ran his cock up and down your wet slit, your legs shake slightly at the feeling of being teased. He slowly lowered you onto his length, his arms now around your waist as he moaned at the feeling. You feel yourself stretching to accommodate his length, your breathing becoming heavier as you winced with every inch.

“Mm fuck!” You whined out as you were now engulfed around his shaft fully. Your legs began to tremble as you lean back slightly to brush a strand of hair off your sweaty face.

Lucius lets out a sigh as he feels your tight cunt swallow every inch of him. His own pride growing as he sees you take him so well. He leans back into the couch as he watches your body quiver. He can’t help but let out a small smirk at the view of you enjoying it so much.

"You… you feel so good, my dear," he mutters, his voice thick with need. "So… so perfect. So... so mine." He said breathing heavily, bringing a hand to caress your cheek. You cupped your smaller hand on his as you let out a small moan escape your lips, giving him a shy grin. The air was intimate and lustful as the two of you met eyes.

He begins to move, his body moving, slapping against yours, at a medium pace, moans filled the room as he continued to ravish your pussy on the couch. The wet lewd sound of your bodies was something so incredibly naughty to the two of you. Feeling him slam right into your sensitive spot you cry out loudly. His holds your waist down as he continued to pound you hard.

You throw your head back at the feeling of being stretched out so well, moaning loudly as your legs shake. Your cunt nearly feels like it’s going to break. Lucius feels a wave of pleasure at your moan, he ran a hand down your navel as he admired the way your tits bounce as he fucked you hard. He brings your lips to yours, needing to feel you closer, he kisses you harder, his tongue exploring your mouth once more, but this time his touch more intense, his body moving against yours in a faster, more desperate rhythm.

"You're so sweet, my pet," he said panting between his moans "So eager and obedient. You know what you want, what you need, don't you?" Lucius smirks still pounding you hard, he pulls out just enough to see your wet folds stretching around him.

“Yes! Yes! I do” you babble as you feel coming more undone as you hear your own wetness slap against your throbbing pussy. You were lost in the sensation of his lips on your skin, his hands roaming over your body Your head was thrown back as you savored the moment of having your body ravished by a much older man who just so happens to be your exes father.

Lucius moans at your words and bites your neck hard, “Naughty girl.. you’re mine aren’t you?” He said growling in your ear as he grips your waist tight. “Forget all about Draco dear, you belong to me now.” He whispered. The sounds of his breathing filled the air, as he grew more and more desperate for you. He was completely consumed by you, by the need to have you, to claim you as his and his alone.

“Yes sir I belong to you and you alone!” You scream out trembling “My body belongs to you master!” A dribble of drool drops out the corner of your mouth, you forgot all about Draco at this point, he didn’t matter anymore. In this moment all you wanted was Lucius to claim you as his.

A sharp slap finds its way on your ass, you tense up and wince at the pain, the sting lingering even seconds after. Lucius grabs your chin and pulls you back into another deep and needy kiss as lips his against yours as he consumed you completely in that very moment, claiming you. You moan loudly into the kiss as you feel the heat radiating off his body to yours

His hands found their way back to your hips, pulling you closer. His breaths were heavy, ragged, as he continued to mark your claim your lips as his, his actions almost feral. He pressed himself even deeper inside of you as his pace was now nearly unforgiving to your core. Your pussy continuing to leak underneath you, he continued to relentlessly pound into you, your moans only serving as encouragement for him. His kisses and bites becoming more and more intense as you feel the two of you grow closer to a climax. The dirty sounds of your breaths and skin filled the air.

Your voice, strangled with need, crying out his name pushes him over the edge “Lucius! I feel like ‘m gonna cum!” Your broken words combined with the tears in your eyes fueled him with a certain possessive need. Your legs struggled to wrap around his waist as you feel them growing weaker by the second.

"Yes, darling, finish for me" Lucius moans voice thick, The two of you lost in each other completely, your bodies moving in a such a way that exuded need and desire. The sound of hour heavy breathing filled the air, the moans and gasps growing even louder and more ragged

“Lucius I’m gonna cum!” You babble out with your head thrown back, your cunt was nearly numb as Lucius speeds up his pace. Your kiss him deeply to savor the moment and the feeling, lost in thought you felt your climax coming as your arms and legs tightened around him as you moaned into his mouth. Your legs squeeze him tightly as if you weren’t ready to let go

Lucius looks down at your fucked expression, his gaze taking in every part of you, his need for you almost consuming him.

"You're mine, my pet," he mutters, his voice low and possessive. "He growls with a shaky breath.” You are mine to take, mine to have, mine to do with as I please." He bites down on your shoulder as he feels his own orgasm nearing as he grips your hips tightly.

His body shook against yours as he let out one final groan as he found his release, your name escaping his lips in a strangled moan as he spilled his hot seed inside you. His body was still pressed tightly against yours as he still held you. You shudder at the feeling and lay your head onto shoulder , legs now loosening. Lucius pulled out of you as he grins at the sight of his seed spilling out your now swollen cunt. You whine at the feeling as he coos you.

—

The room was quiet for a moment, the only sounds were the heavy breathing of both of you as you came down from your highs. The calmness of the room had returned as Lucius held you tightly with his body against yours. his arms wrapped around you.

“Let me clean you up darling” he said smiling softly at you, caressing your face briefly as he got up to buckle his pants. You look up at his with tired eyes, as he left the room.

Lucius was quite gentle as he cleaned the both of you up, getting you a new change of clothes, ones you have left there during your time with Draco. But he didn’t matter now did he? He wiped the sweat off your forehead as he slipped the clean shirt back onto you with a sweet smile. “Thank you” you smile back at him. You watche him tie his hair back as he sits back on the couch, patting on his thigh for you to come sit.

You reach the couch before crawling back onto his lap, straddling him. You buried your face in his neck, gently nuzzling into it. He lets out a small sound of contentment at the gesture, his arms now rubbing your back gently. His lips find their way to your forehead, placing a soft gentle kiss in contrast to the moment you two shared. He runs his fingers through your hair as you hold onto his chest, his touch gentle as he holds you in his arms. There is a sense of comfort and security as he holds you, almost protective. He can feel your body pressed against his, still flush and warm from their intense moment, your breathing regular again.

You pull away just enough to see his face, the corners of his lips curling into a small smile. He now has a relaxed face, a sign that the alcohol had worn off. Lucius runs his thumb over the marks he made on your neck, letting out a content sigh as he looks to you. His eyes locked onto yours before you place a small kiss on his lips, an intimate gesture you felt like you needed. His eyes closed at the kiss, returning it but in a tender and gentle way. The kiss was sloppy yet affectionate as the two of you let breathe softly. He brought a hand up to cup your cheek as the two of you share a soft moment.

"You're mine, you know that, right?" he murmurs his voice now low and intimate. He gently traced his thumb on your bottom lip as his silver eyes met yours. The gentle smile still there as he waited for your response

“I’m yours Lucius” you say giving him a sweet and sincere smile, the same shy feeling comes back to you as you say those words, but you meant them.

“No more pouting about Draco now darling, you have me now” Lucius said giving you a playful wink

His words no longer held the stinging feeling they did earlier that night. You felt a sense of relief as you realized that, you paused for a few moments and nodded grinning at him. You had Lucius now and that was all that mattered to you now.

A comfortable silence fills the air as your actions begin to catch up, you feel his body relax under yours as his breathing became more steady. He ran his fingers through your hair as you laid against his chest, “You know... You don't have to go anywhere..." he mutters with his exhaustion heavy in his voice,"You can stay if you want since no one’s here, Spend the night here." He said pulling away to search your face for an answer

With sleepy eyes you look up to him and nod, “Can I sleep with you?” You ask tilting your head slightly

Lucius lets out a hearty laugh, “Of course my darling, anything for you” he grinned as he took your hand

#harry potter #lucius x reader #lucius malfoy x reader #lucius malfoy #Lucius malfoy x y/n #Lucius smut #Lucius malfoy x you

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rottenbologna · 1 month ago

Text

Three wishes

Pairings ~ Ona Batlle x Bronze!reader

Genre ~ angst

Warnings~ brace yourself?

Ona expected that you might scream, cry, demand answers or even slap her across the face but none of that came you were just frozen in the doorway completely silent, so she waited but nothing came. You were just silent.

Ona stare into your eyes that would normally tell her everything she needed to know but now they were just empty. No sadness no anger just..nothing. The silenced in the room stretched for an eternity, but y/n stayed silent which killed ona as she waited for something. Anything.

The soft click of the door is all she gets locking the scene of her in bed with other women. The other woman being y/n’s older sister that laid with widen eyes bed sheet pulled to her chest to hide her shame.

“y/n i.. please I’m sorry. It’s not…I never meant to hurt-‘

‘stop’ y/n cut her off shaking her head after resting the steaming beverage that’s in her cup back on the coaster. “it doesn’t matter.”

Ona looked like she selfishly wanted to cry but y/n couldn’t bring herself to care. Not anymore.

“can I ask you both something?” y/n’s voice is distant almost like she was in a different room altogether and never once did she ever meet her girlfriend or her sister who joined them now that she was decent in the room.

They both looked at each other unsure the aura of calm leaving them uncomfortable but they considered they both committed the ultimate sin in both their relationships with y/n and knee they had no choice be to indulged her.

"I want you both to grant me three wishes."

Lucy blinked in confusion while Ona paled gravely. "What..what do you mean three wishes."

"I'm sick." The words tumbled out of y/n's lips like it was nothing. "I've been sick for months and I've kept it a secret. I don't have much time left." Y/n didn't wait for them to react. "I don't want to leave the earth with any anger in my heart so please can you grant me three wishes?"

The room is silent as lucy choked on her quite tears and ona trembled. "What? Cat got your tongue or did you leave it in my sister's." A smirk that almost resembled one of a sadist graced Y/n's lips before it dropped back to a neutral smile.

Ona tried reaching out for her girlfriend but the girlfriend just stepped back out of her reach.

"I knew about all of this." Y/n gestured her hands between them "I'm not stupid but It's done and the least you both can do is grant me three simple things."

"What is it that you want?" Ona says after a long pause voice barely above a whisper.

"Three days." Y/n says simply further the girls confusion. "Three days of doing whatever I want."

"OK."

○●○●○●○●○●○●

When Y/n asked for three days lucy and ona expected to be put through the worst kind of torture just to make up for half of the pain they had caused.They Spent two of the three days waiting for an argument to burst out or pleds for answer but it never came. The guilt and sorrow ate away at them as the granted every wish.

The last day Y/n requested to spend the day alone with her older sister at the beach. She did as much as her condition would like her before they both sat staring at the sunset.

"Listen y/n i-"

"It's fine lucy."

"It's not! How can you be so cool about this how could you just have us do these stupid things like everything is normal?" Lucy stood up in her rage pacing as the gravity of the situation finally settles on her chest.

"Let me remind you im the victim here and however I choose to process that is now of your concern. You made your bed now lay in it." Y/n eyes never once left the sun patting the space next to her and her sister sat back down in defeat.

"I knew about you two way before three days ago like i said before. I'd be blind not to notice it. The way you both looked at each other, the texts and late nights. But I also knew I was sick and I knew I didn't wanna be alone so I let it go..I had my time for anger and sadness and right all I want is peace and if not that. Quite." I'm too tired for the what if's." Y/n sighed the exhaustion clear in her voice.

Lucy brought her knees to her chest then wrapped her arms around them to control her shaking. "I never meant for things to go this far..I never meant to hurt you."

"I don't need you to apologize luce the fact remains that you did hurt me and I just wanted you to know i wasn't blind to it. But like I said no apologies let's just enjoy what we have left."

Lucy slightly agreed and sat with your head on her shoulder till the sun went down after the moon took the suns place she felt the shift it was colder and much quiet than the silence from before she tried to deny it with all her but there was no changing it.

You were gone...

#woso community #woso x reader #woso imagine #fc barcelona #barça femeni #barça x reader #ona batlle #ona batlle x reader

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jacaerysgf · 10 months ago

Text

release

jacaerys has been stressed and uses you as a release

c.w: kinda angsty, ep 4 minor spoilers, rough sex, p in v, implied no fem release, nontarg!reader, not proofread

you could see the irritation growing on his face the longer and longer the council went on.

The more his mother refused to engage in the war and now with her sudden absence the men on the council grow greedy you watch his face snap into a pure look of rage as the council is dismissed He storms quickly out of the room and you can’t help but rush after him.

When you find him he is in his room, he throws a book at the door as you enter and you just narrowly dodge it. He looks startled to see you and for a split second the look of angry leaves his face but it quickly returns as he begins to rant to you.

“where could she have gone? does she not realize this is the pivotal time for action!.” you nod though you don’t necessarily have an opinion. you know his mother must have her own worries about the war but you also understand jacaerys frustration. he is angry. he has not had a second to process his grief and he wishes to channel it into rage.

you cant take his pacing and the way he pulls at his hair and his incessant mumbling to himself. so you walk towards him and grab his shoulders. he freezes as he looks at you, “jace please you shouldn’t be stressing yourself out like this, lets just sit down and have some tea-“ he suddenly pushes you against the wall and his lips lock with yours. when you gasp into the kiss he presses his tongue past your lips as he grinds his hips into yours.

you gasp when you hear a tear while he tugging at your dress and you can barely hear him mumble to himself, “need you, need you.” over and over to himself and you let him, knowing he needs an outlet for his anger so he does not explode on council.

you suddenly feel his cock rub against your slit but not pushing into you just yet. he presses his sweaty forehead against your neck and you can tell he’s holding himself back. “jace its okay, let go.” he lets out a bunch of heavy breaths as he has an internal conflict with himself. you stroke his hair as you push your hips against his to let him know its alright.

He suddenly shifts his hips and he’s thrusting inside of you as he bites onto the side of your neck. he is usually a delicate lover, only taking you on the bed and usually going soft and slow for hours but now he’s thrusting into you against the wall without any regard for prep or care.

his hands grab your hips so hard you’re sure they’ll leave bruises tomorrow and he keeps you firmly in place as he ruts into you. you can feel him groaning and growling into the side of your neck. he’s angry, he’s so angry at everything, but you feel the hot tears hit your neck as he spends his seed inside you and he begins sobbing into the side of your neck.

“i hate them, i hate them all.” you shush him and keep him close in your arms. “i know jace i know.” “i want to kill them all.” you press a kiss to the side of his forehead, “wait for your mother to return and then we can kill them all.”

---

perm jace taglist (open)

@earth4angels @cruelworldlana @smurfelle @ireneispunk @hxtd @venmondiese @urmomsgirlfriend1 @jacesvelaryons @ravenn-darkholme @damewritesalot

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cloudcountry · 10 months ago

Note

I've discussed this with a mutual but I really need to read it: I'd like to request a confession scenario with Jamil where he goes through the 5 stages of grief.

Basically Jamil is fell head over heels into the Mariana trench but forgot that De Nile is a river in Egypt and pulled a page out of Kalim's book by being purposely oblivious about his own feelings.

The poor reader is also very much in love and has pining for WEEKS. One day, they decide to just tip the band-aid off. The pair are in the kitchen hanging out as usual when the reader turns to him and goes "I'm in love with you. You don't have to say anything and you can pretend this never happened. I just want you to know"

They're expecting a rejection but Jamil just stares a freezes for a good three minutes. While the reader is panicking trying to get him to snap out of it, Jamil is going through the 5 stages of grief.

Ultimately, Jamil's thought process ends with "If we don't kiss in the next 5 seconds I'm overblotting again" and the intrusive thoughts win.

SUMMARY: you confess to jamil. he doesn't know how to respond until he throws his inhibition out the window.

COMMENTS: I LOVE THIS REQUEST??? i decided to play off of the actual stages of grief for this even though its an expression hehe

“Jamil, I like you.”

What.

“Actually, no, I’m...I’m in love with you. And it’s okay if you don’t, it's okay if you don’t say it back, I just wanted you to know.”

What!?

Jamil stares at the fridge in front of him, mind blank except for your words. They repeat over and over and every emotion ever swells up in his chest because what!?

Since when? Why? What did you see in him? What did you see in your future with him? DId you even see one? Did he mishear you? Did you mean to say that to someone else?

No, there’s no way you did. You two were the only ones in the kitchen at the moment. Grim was outside in the living room, talking to the ghosts about something or other and why would you even say something like that to Grim anyway?

Denial.

You didn’t mean it. There’s no way you meant it. even after he overblotted and threw you to the other end of his dorm? Even after he showed you all the ugliest parts of himself, the parts of himself that nobody ever should have seen because he wasn’t supposed to be a person, only an aid?

And he certainly didn’t like you back. It’s not like he wanted to do things for you to make you happy, it’s not like he got the slightest bit jealous when he saw you hanging out with Kalim, it’s not like he wanted to monopolize all of your time so nobody else could have it.

Okay, so he was lying to himself. Great. He can deal with this for sure.

Anger.

It’s so unfair. It’s so unfair. If it wasn’t for Kalim and his parents and this suffocating life he’s sure he’d be able to accept your confession in a heartbeat. He’s sure he’d be able to comprehend his own emotions and bring you into his arms. He’s sure he’d be able to process his own emotions and be the partner you deserved, without all the jumbled mess that is his rage and jealousy and resentment.

He didn’t want to be someone else, he just wanted a different life. He just wanted to be free, to be able to exercise his own pure talent, to be able to rise above everyone else.

Bargaining.

He wished there was some way to make that reality for you two. He didn’t want you to go be with anyone else, the very thought of it made his stomach turn and his heart brim with anger. He was a selfish, jealous person, but you loved him. How could he make this work? How could he keep you in love with him, keep you by his side, keep you controlled? Did you have to be controlled? You started liking him of your own free will, maybe he didn’t have to do anything.

But falling for him was one matter, staying by his side was another.

Depression.

There was no way this was going to work.

He had to find a way.

He couldn’t find a way.

There had to be a way.

His mind is moving too fast for him to keep up and he’s still staring at the fridge, and your voice is calling his name and you look so worried, your visage in the corner of his eyes swirling. It’s like he’s not even rooted in reality anymore. How can he make this work? It almost feels hopeless...but Jamil is anything but a quitter. He’s never given up before, and he’s not going to start now.

Acceptance.

“Jamil?” you say for what feels like the hundredth time, your hand resting gently on his shoulder.

He’s still not responding. Oh fuck, you didn’t think confessing was going to mess him up this much. If you’d known that, you wouldn’t have said anything and just kept it to yourself forever.

He murmurs your name and finally, finally turns to look at you. His hands grab your shoulders and he meets your gaze, pupils dilated and eyes wide.

“Be mine.” he says, and your heart flutters at how serious he sounds.

“J...Jamil?” you squeak, pliant in his arms and he pulls you close, clinging to you like he never wants to let you go.

“Be mine.” he repeats, words muffled in your shoulder, “I will...always do my best for you. Always. I don’t want you going to anyone else.”

“I don’t want to be with anyone else.” you murmur softly, placing a hand on the back of his head as he crushes you against him.

He shifts, bringing his face close to your neck. You barely have the time to wonder what he’s doing before he kisses the junction between your shoulder and neck, a soft smack of lips roaring in your ears.

“Good.” he replies, the word a hot gust of air against your skin.

#auburn's fics <3 #twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #disney twst x reader #jamil viper #jamil viper x reader #jamil viper fluff #jamil x reader #jamil fluff #twst jamil #twst jamil x reader #gn reader

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wordsofwhimsy · 1 month ago

Text

𝘚𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘈𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 - 𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘕𝘪𝘯𝘦

Pairing: Mohawk!Mark Grayson x f!Reader

Warnings: One brief allusion to domestic abuse

Genres: Fluff, hurt/comfort, romance

Word Count: 2,643

Synopsis: You’ve been in a relationship with Sinister!Mark for years, coming with him from his original universe into the main timeline along with all the other variants. Since coming to this universe however the dynamics of your relationship have changed, Sinister!Mark becoming more distant and cruel, not showing you any form of affection or appreciation outside of rough sex. Mohawk!Mark was in love with the you from his own universe, but in his timeline you died as a casualty of war (a similar fate to the you from the main timeline). Now that he sees you again in this new, main universe he’s captured by you but also unsure of how to handle things since you are with Sinister. After catching Sinister with two other women, you call Mohawk Mark for some form of comfort. The comfort turned to sex, Sinister Mark finds you two the next morning & a fight ensued. The brawl was broken up by a few other Mark’s, but Reader was hurt in the process.

a/n: I DID IT – i finally finished this gaht dayum chapter T-T and thank the lort i have an idea in mind for how to end it in the next part. we doin’ the damn thing people!!!

→ Part Eight ←

The night had swallowed the city whole, streets empty and silent under the weight of the moon. M.Mark flew swiftly above the roads, a knot growing tighter in his stomach with each hospital he passed—each one you weren’t in only worsening his anxiety. He could feel the gnawing urgency, the fear of what might happen if he didn’t reach you soon. His mind was a whirlwind, his thoughts tangled between his need to protect you and the memories of that afternoon’s chaos—the fight, the rage, Sinister’s madness. All of it felt like a violent blur, but what cut through it was the thought of you, alone and vulnerable.

He had to get to you.

By the time he reached the last hospital on his list, his patience had worn thin. His knuckles were white from how tightly they were balled at his sides, but he forced himself to steady his breath before stepping into the lobby. He checked in as a visitor, movements swift and deliberate, no wasted time. He was dressed down into casual clothes, not wanting to arouse any unjust suspicion. He could feel the pressure building, like he was about to shatter, but the thought of you kept him grounded.

He’d spent the better half of the day in confinement at a GDA prison, held for seemingly endless hours of interrogation and observation. He, along with S.Mark, were told they’d be kept under lockdown until they both regained some composure. Sinister raged for hours, a storm that never seemed to end, while M.Mark had forced himself to silence the chaos inside his mind. He couldn’t afford to let his emotions rule—not when you were out there.

A man of his word, Cecil had finally allowed M.Mark to leave, eliciting an immediate violent reaction from Sinister. The last thing M.Mark heard as he stepped out the door were raging, cussing rants from his counterpart about how he was going to get him, and how he’d kill that bitch for what she did.

A flare of fury shot through Mark, but he kept it buried. Sinister’s threats meant nothing. Not in that moment. M.Mark had one mission, and it was to get to you before Sinister could.

—

Your hospital room was at the far end of a quiet hallway. The door was cracked open just enough to let a sliver of soft light spill onto the floor. Mark stood there for a moment, watching you from the threshold. You were asleep, your face soft and serene. For a brief second, everything felt still—like time had paused and you were momentarily freed from the weight of everything that had come before.

It was almost haunting, the way you looked. So beautifully soft and fragile. Of course S.Mark wouldn’t be able to let you go – life events might have turned him into a piece of shit, but he still shared the same DNA as him. And every molecule of Mark’s body called out for you. He knew then, that even if he’d never admit it, Sinister’s body did the same.

Mark stepped fully into the room, the soft click of the door closing behind him almost inaudible. Slowly, almost reverently, he pulled a chair up beside your bed. His fingers brushed against the cool surface of your hand, and the simple contact grounded him in a way he didn’t expect.

The only sounds to be heard was the subtle rhythm of your breath and the hum of the hospital outside your door. Marks eyes lingered on you as you slept, his fingers gently tracing over your skin. As he studied you, little details he hadn't noticed before came into focus—the soft freckles sprinkled across the bridge of your nose, the way your hair curled at the edges when it fell just right. He’d never really looked at them before, but now, they were all he could see.

His gaze shifted, moving across your visible skin and for a brief moment his eyes caught on a small scar just above your collarbone. A faint mark that he couldn’t remember the you from his universe ever having. It was barely noticeable, but it was there. He wondered, for a fleeting second, how it happened. He thought about the possibility—how it could have come from an accident, a careless moment, or something darker. But before he could dwell on it, before the thoughts could spiral, he pushed them away.

He didn’t want to think of that.

Instead, he let his focus shift back to you. He found his mind tumbling back to the night before. He couldn’t help but remember it—remember you—the way you had kissed him, slow and soft, as if the entire world had fallen away, leaving only the warmth between you. His thoughts fixated on the feeling of your lips, the tenderness there that made him feel like he was holding something delicate. The softness of your kiss was still vivid in his mind, a sensation he could almost taste.

He wanted to hold onto the way you made him feel—like he mattered, like he was more than just the violence that ran through his veins. With you, he didn’t have to hide.

As he watched you sleep, his heart felt a weight he couldn’t shake. It wasn’t just the peace between you, but the fear that it might slip away. That Sinister might take this from him. But he didn’t want to think about that now. Not with you so close, so perfect in your vulnerability.

For now, he would let the warmth of your presence be enough. He envisioned your smile; that easy, bright curve of your lips that lit up any room and made everything feel right. He envisioned your eyes, and the way they always seemed to hold a little bit of mystery—something he could never quite understand but always wanted to know more about. He envisioned your hair, and how it framed your face, wild and soft all at once, always moving as if it had a mind of its own.

All of these thoughts allowed for a brief respite—a moment he clung to with everything he had.

Lost in his own reverie, Mark didn’t notice when your eyes fluttered open. The first thing you saw was him, sitting by your bedside, fingers resting lightly on the edge of your hand. The soft light filtering through the curtains created an almost dreamlike atmosphere.

“Hey…” you murmured, your voice soft and hoarse from the ordeal. It took you a second to fully adjust, but then you managed a small, drowsy smile. “What time is it?”

Mark jumped slightly at the sound of your voice, but then smiled gently, the warmth in his expression undeniable. "It’s still early," he said, his voice low and comforting. "You’ve been asleep for a while."

You stretched slightly, testing the weight of your body and the bruises still aching beneath your skin. But there was something in Mark’s gaze—something intense but also tender—that made you forget about the pain, just for a moment.

“How long have you been here?” you asked, lifting your hand slightly to meet his, your fingers grazing against his skin.

“Since around midnight,” Mark muttered, his voice almost shy. He looked down at your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as if memorizing the sensation. “I wish I could’ve gotten here sooner...”

You let out a quiet sigh, trying to ignore the heaviness that came with the thought of S.Mark. The whole situation felt like a cloud hanging over you, but Mark’s presence gave some small semblance of comfort.

He hesitated before continuing, his voice quieter now. “You’re so... strong, you know that?” He paused, looking you over carefully, as if trying to gauge how you were feeling. “You took a hit from a Viltrumite. I... I don’t know how you did it, but you did. You’re amazing.”

A small chuckle escaped you, a faint flush creeping up your neck. “It’s not that impressive," you replied, offering a weak shrug. “I’ve taken worse from him...”

Mark blinked at that, his brow furrowing slightly as if processing what you just said. Then he shook his head, that same look of awe in his eyes. “Still... most people wouldn’t even survive a hit like that, let alone get back up. But you... you just keep going.” He leaned forward a little, his voice soft but full of reverence. “You’re something else, you know that?”

You met his eyes, the tenderness looking out of place on his face. “I’m just... stubborn,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, but it felt like the most honest answer you could give him. “What about Sinister?” you continued quietly, your mind flicking to the confrontation that had ended in chaos.

Mark’s expression tightened for a moment, and he leaned forward, lowering his voice. “He’s being held by the GDA right now. But even if they let him go... I’m not going to let anything happen to you. You’re safe with me, I promise.” He reached over and gently took your hand, holding it between both of his. “No matter what, I’ll keep you safe.”

You could feel his sincerity, and for a moment, the weight of everything else seemed to lift. You gave him a small, tired smile. “Thank you, Mark. I… I really don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Before Mark could respond, the door to your room creaked open, and you glanced up to see the other version of Mark—the one from this universe. He hesitated in the doorway, standing there for a moment as if unsure of how to proceed. His eyes flicked between you and M.Mark, and you could practically feel the tension in the room.

"You’re awake. I uh..." he began, clearing his throat, "I just wanted to check on you."

It was strange, seeing him here—especially with M.Mark sitting right beside you. The two of them had a complicated history, and it seemed that neither one quite knew how to handle the situation. But you could tell that the main timeline Mark was trying, at least.

You gave him a smile, trying to ease the awkwardness. “Come in,” you said, shifting slightly in bed. “I’m fine. Thank you, by the way, for everything that happened yesterday...”

M.U. Mark’s eyes softened, and he stepped into the room, standing near the foot of the bed. His eyes darted over to M.Mark for a split second, and then back to you. He cleared his throat again, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, of course. Just doing what needed to be done.”

You gave him a small smile, silently acknowledging the way he’d stepped in when things had gotten out of hand. He wasn’t perfect, but he did what he had to do. And that counted for something.

“I spoke with Cecil,” M.U. Mark continued, his voice steadier now as he addressed you directly. “Sinister is going to be on a tight leash for a while. I just… didn’t want you worried about him right now.”

You felt a small sigh of relief, but your thoughts were interrupted when M.U. Mark glanced over at M.Mark again, and this time, there was something unspoken between them—an understanding, maybe. M.U. Mark’s lips curved into a brief, small smile.

“And with him here,” he said, nodding toward M.Mark, “I think you’re in solid company.”

M.Mark let out a snort of air from his nose, the rougher edge of his personality making its appearance. M.U. Mark seemed a bit amused, but didn’t push it further. “Anyways I really was just stopping by. Glad to see you’re doing better, y/n.” He gave a reassuring pat to your foot which was tucked under the thin white hospital blanket. “I’ll see you around.”

"Thanks," you said softly. As he turned to leave he hesitated, but let his hand fall onto his counterparts shoulder.

“You should probably get some sleep, dude. You look exhausted.” M.Mark shot him an annoyed glare, but M.U. Mark just shrugged and headed for the exit. He gave one last look at the two of you, offering a quiet, “Take care,” before closing the door behind him with a soft click.

The room was suddenly quieter, more peaceful, and as the tension from the conversation ebbed away, you met Mark’s gaze with a light-hearted smirk. “Y’know he’s right,” you chided. “You look like you haven’t slept in like, a week.” Mark seemed a bit flustered at first, but that quickly melted away as he joined you in your troublemaker expression.

“Maybe I haven’t... Got any room in that bed for me?” You happily obliged, scooting to make a little space. He climbed in beside you, the mattress sinking as his weight settled next to you. For a moment, he seemed a little uncertain, as though still trying to gauge how comfortable this was going to be, but as he eased down he let out a long, contented sigh.

His arm slipped around your shoulders naturally, pulling you close. You let yourself relax into him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. The way he held you was effortless, his touch light but anchoring, like he was reassuring himself that you were there, that this was real.

For a few moments, you both just lay there in the quiet, the steady sound of his breathing a comfort. You focused on the gentle weight of his arm around you, on the way his fingers lightly brushed against your skin as he subconsciously traced patterns of nothingness. The closeness felt so... right.

As you settled into the rhythm of his breathing, you realized he was already growing quieter, his body growing heavier against yours. His hand moved from your arm to your hair, fingers softly threading through the strands. You felt him relax even more, his body going still as the gentle warmth of his touch continued to soothe you.

Before long, the evenness of his breath told you what you already knew: he had fallen asleep. His head rested lightly on the pillow, his grip around you loosening just enough to let you breathe freely but still keeping you close.

You smiled softly, watching him for a moment. There was something so endearing about the way he looked in this quiet, vulnerable moment, his face peaceful in sleep, the furrowed brow he always carried gone, replaced by a soft expression of calm. He looked... young, in a way—so human, so real.

You adjusted slightly to make yourself more comfortable without waking him, keeping your head nestled in the crook of his arm. The world outside was quiet, and for the first time since everything had started, you felt safe, even if it was just for a little while. You knew you were okay. Even with everything that had happened, in that moment, you were exactly where you needed to be.

Mark’s soft breathing filled the silence, and you couldn’t help but smile, the steady rhythm of his sleep lulling you into a peaceful calm. Despite the chaos of everything around you, there was this—this stillness, this comfort you hadn’t realized you needed so badly.

But as you lay there, the thought crept into your mind—one you hadn’t really let yourself entertain before. You realized you didn’t know anything about his universe, about what his life had been like before everything that had happened. How different had it been from Sinister’s life? What kind of person had he been? What had shaped him into who he was now?

The curiosity stirred, pulling at you, wondering what choices, what experiences had led him here—what his life had been like, what it was still becoming. For now, though, it would have to be enough to just let him sleep.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

→ Part Ten - The Finale ←

#invincible fanfic #invincible x reader #mark grayson x reader #mark grayson fanfic #mohawk mark x reader #variant!mark x reader

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gallusrostromegalus · 4 months ago

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I noticed when reading through all your worldbuilding stuff a bit ago that you changed from having isshin remember some stuff to not remembering shit and while i am absolutely not complaining, im curious why I out changed it? Like, cool either way, I'm just interested in the process ^^

I did and did not change it?

Amnesia is almost never a total void- it's more common for people to have SOME memories, but a total lack of context- the memories play out like a movie scene, but the person has no idea who the people in it are, or why they're doing that.

So Isshin has... some memories, but no context for them. He remembers a family member named Kaien- was that his cousin? A young uncle? A neighbor? He's not sure. He remembers a scary old man and some kid and the world's most annoying woman (affectionate), but he doesn't know who they are or how he knows them.

He also has memories of monsters, and the lore about how to avoid and destroy them- was it something Masaki told him, when they were both recovering in the hospital after his accident? Or something older? He doesn't remember.

Ichigo's taxidermy cat starts talking and walkign around and says his name is "Kon" and he's something called a "Mod Soul". Isshin thought that was a subgenre of music, but something about Kon's story follows a pattern of... something. Who knows what.

There's something familiar about the girl Ichigo brings home one night- his classmate, Rukia, who he found sleeping rough, can she stay here? Of course she can! Isshin has a good feeling about her, but heaven knows why.

Ichigo is going through something that he's weirdly reluctant to talk about- all boys get weird during puberty, but locking himself in his room or hanging out on the roof for hours on end, talking to himself? Odd, even for Ichigo. Especially when Isshin tries to eavesdrop on the conversation and it sounds like Ichigo is talking to an unseen friend- this "Zangetsu" guy. Why does that name sound familar? Why does Isshin even try to remember anymore?

Something is wrong. Something is terribly catastrophically wrong. Kon has been Piloting Ichigo's body for DAYS and won't say where his son's spirit has gone. He was doing the dishes and then suddenly... woke up on the kitchen floor. Karin and Yuzu are sluggish, all feeling like they'd been drugged. There's people asleep in the street. There's a terrible, heavy feeling in the air, like an impending hurricaine, despite the clear blue sky. Isshin is running to the hospital- if everyone's been knocked out, there's nobody watching the ICU, or what if someone was doing surgery when this happened-?

There's a man in the road.

"Shiba? Is that you? Is Destiny serving everything to me today?" he calls out, laughing. He's handsome, with a smooth voice and disarming smile. In the surroundings, it makes Isshin's skin crawl.

"...Don't you remember me, Captain Shiba?" the man asks, sounding vaguely disappointed.

Isshin absolutely does not. But he knows, deep in his bones, that this is a wicked, evil man. And that he doesn't have a chance against him, save for one thing- a ripple, less than half a sense of something, but a man knows his son in any shape, coming up behind the man at speed, he just needs an opening.

"OH HEY!" Isshin says, like catching sigh of a co-worker in the grocery store and shouting the first name that comes to mind because somehow he knows this will make the wicked man apoplectic with rage and blind to Ichigo's rapid approach. "URAHARA! KISUKE URAHARA I HAVEN'T SEEN YOU FOR AGES!"

#AEIWAM #An Elephant Is Warm And Mushy #Bleach #Bleach fanfic #isshin kurosaki #sosuke aizen

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rosesnbooks · 1 year ago

Text

Astrology observations #4

🧡if your moon is in the same sign as someone's rising sign, this is visible at first meeting. you just feel a certain pull when you see them, and they stand out from others in the room

🧡i have noticed that capricorn moons and/or mercuries like dark humor, it's not for the sensitive ones. that's why they also appreciate shows like the office and seinfeld. not to mention their interest for darker shows in general. developed capricorns are funny, but underdeveloped ones hurt people with their mockery

🧡aquarius/11th house and gemini/3rd house placements love personality tests. curiosity and the desire to understand themselves is strong. the former also want to feel more connected to others because they often feel vastly different than the people around them...these tests help them connect. honorable mentions to pisces placements as well

🧡i have yet to meet someone with virgo placements who doesn't appreciate cleanliness and/or organization. funnily enough, not all of them actually follow these values themselves. they are also good with arts and crafts

🧡virgo moons and gemini moons both have issues with silencing their minds at times, but virgos are definitely stricter with themselves. both placements need to talk with their closest people to process their feelings. they just need to let it out somehow or else, they will feel overwhelmed

🧡water signs are connected to water obviously, but there is something about cancer placements and their love for the sea. it's adorable, and they find comfort in it

🧡i think it's true that opposites attract but i think that there needs to be one point where both sides can meet. for example, if you lack earth placements, you probably benefit from having an earth placement in your life but it works best if they share an element that you have. this way, they they can understand where you're coming from.

🔸🔸🔸🔸🔸🔸🔸🔸🔸🔸🔸🔸🔸🔸🔸🔸🔸🔸

🧡a person with scorpio mars cannot hide their intensity from everyone. especially when it comes to things/people that they deeply care about or things that fuel their rage. they can have the most sensitive and peaceful chart, but then that scorpio arrives and stirs the waters.

🧡mars in gemini can go through many difficult trials in life and adapt to anything. it's truly admirable

🧡moon in the 12th find comfort in spirtuality and/or religion. however, they need to be careful not to become fanatics and vulnerable to bad intentions from the people in these fields

🧡3rd house stelliums observe people a lot and, over time, learn how to read them very well

🧡i think parents can learn from their children as well and sometimes their chart confirms that. for example, a parent can have their north node in scorpio, and their kid ends up having one or several scorpio placements. it's up to the parent whether they'll learn from them or emphasize the differences between them

🧡jupiter in sagittarius/jupiter in the 9th house find tremendous joy in travelling. once they try it out, the urge to continue travelling is strong. staying put in one place too long is bad for their spirit

🧡i have noticed that those with earth venus (virgo, capricorn, taurus) don't rush into love as others. i think they just want to find the right person first. they're sensitive souls that want someone to trust and rely on

🧡people with north node in leo notice that they feel alive when they pursue different adventures and when they don't dim their light in front of others. they care a lot about the world and humanity, and they need to let others take care of them sometimes too

🧡it's not easy when your jupiter and saturn share the same house. i think it means you need to find balance somehow. for example, someone with jupiter in the 9th house can find happiness and luck in travel, spirituality, and having an optimistic and open-minded mindset. but also, they may fear pursuing these things either because it seems scary or because they experienced some setbacks in the past. moreover someone with jupiter and saturn in the 11th house has had meaningful friendships that brought them lots of luck, as well as some intense friendships that caused them a lot of pain

🧡pisces placements can adore libra placements because they want someone who'll give them a fair chance and some peace in their lives. pisces people are a bit weary of intense placements because they don't feel 100% safe with them, whereas libras are comforting. honorable mentions to taurus as well, since they can make pisces feel like they're at home with them

#astrology #astro observations #astrology observations #rosesnbooks

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comicaurora · 10 months ago

Note

I'm not a writer whatsoever and am currently listening to the OSPod Publishing special, and was really intruiged by your description of your character-driven stories as being similar to a DnD campaign. Could you please elaborate a bit on what you mean by "it's good when the characters surprise you"? It's likely an obvious writer thing, but I would've thought that an author wouldn't be surprised by where their story or characters go since, well, they're the one writing it. Regardless the comic is amazing so however confusing your process may be to me personally it's clearly effective

It's a little bit difficult to explain!

A lot of the writing process is just sitting down and writing it - laying out the setpieces, describing what the characters do, writing and tweaking the dialogue for impact. But in my experience, the vast majority of the REAL writing process happens internally, and large chunks of it are out of conscious reach of the writer. This unreachable space is where new ideas form, and why no writer has ever been able to answer the question "where do you get your ideas from?"

This is why a writer can beat their head against writers block for weeks at a time, then wake up one day with a solution and the entire next chunk of storyline fully formed. My dad calls this phenomenon "the better writer in the back of your head." A lot of the creative process doesn't happen in the front of your mind, where your ego and your inner voice live. Most of it is deeper down. This is how your mind is capable of surprising you in any context, including dreams or unexpected emotional reactions - your mind is a lot larger than just the parts you can consciously feel.

When I put a character in a situation, I can make a conscious decision for what they'll do and then execute it, but I can also listen for ideas bubbling out of that inaccessible region of my mind. Most character ideas start out as a small set of conscious decisions on the part of the writer - "I'll make him a classical hero with a strong sense of justice" or "she'll be a strong but weary leader putting on a brave face" or "I'm playing an edgy rogue with a dark past" etc etc, quick and basic elevator pitches. But the characters come alive when they're allowed to grow down into the inaccessible parts of the mind, where consciousness gives way to emotions bubbling up from even deeper processes. Once the characters are allowed to start feeling things about their story - like "maybe that classical hero doesn't actually feel great about the lord they serve" or "the weary leader has an endless wellspring of vengeful rage to keep her going when she falters," more creative ideas for their next move start bubbling up. Things that don't flow logically from their elevator pitch, but make sense for the character that grows out of that pitch as they're allowed to engage with the world and story around them.

The way I build characters puts a focus on how they're feeling in any given situation, which is completely separate from what I, the writer of the plot, need them to do to move the plot in the direction I was planning. So sometimes I'll be writing something, and a little bubble of inspiration will pop up and let me know that, unexpectedly, this situation is really getting to one of the characters. And I can choose to keep them on track, or I can let their internal compass take over and see what makes the most sense to them at that moment of the story.

Characters are not real people, and they aren't as large or complex as a human mind, but in my experience, if you build a character solidly enough and give yourself room to play, they will grow down into your subconscious wellspring of creativity, and your mind will volunteer ideas to you using their voice. You don't need to use them, but it's very useful to cultivate them, because sometimes those ideas are better than anything you could consciously stick together in the public-spacing front of your mind.

#asks #aurora #writing stuff #behind the curtain

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trippinsorrows · 3 months ago

Text

made for me

authors note: so, the combination of roman's hair and seth's fiendish attack on tribal daddy during the rumble inspired one scene that turned into this. i tried super hard to get it to fit with og ltye, but that wasn't happening. so, it's set in the world of this random au i wrote forever ago.

warnings: fluff, angst

words: 5.4k

It’s not that Roman hates Seth and Punk.

Hardly.

No, hate is not a strong enough word to describe what he feels toward those two men. Too much history, too much betrayal, too much pain is imbued in the past and connectivity of all three men for Roman to water it down by just calling it hatred.

They haven’t created a word to accurately describe what he feels towards and about them. The visceral emotion that courses through his big, heaving body as he destroys his entire locker room. Chairs turned over, tables smashed against the wall, the same wall that has a decent sized hole following Roman smashing his fist into it.

Same with the door.

A form of rage burns and rips through him as he lays waste to his room, unable to settle himself and push away the flashes of the interference. Of how he was in the zone, laying blow after blow against his opponent, McIntyre. As expected, Roman was in control, once again proving his prowess in all the areas, his dominance and authority.

All of which was challenged by interference. Fucking Punk and Rollins.

Roman doesn’t know how they made it past security, but someone will die for such a big fuck up. Because they’d tried, and to some extent, jumped Roman. Calling themselves trying to prove Roman’s mortality, trying to deface the legacy and imprint of the Tribal Chief.

It didn’t work, of course, just like it didn’t last time. But, Roman still got roughed up in the process, sustaining a few injuries he knows are only going to be exacerbated by his violent outburst, but he can’t bring himself to care.

This level of…..fury needs to be released.

It has to.

Three, tentative knocks to the door rip Roman from his hateful ruminating while also spiking his irritation. “I said I want to be alone!”

Obviously, someone has a death wish, because the next thing Roman sees is the same door opening slowly. The flustered, red face of his chief advisor—potentially former—appears in the ajar doorway, his eyes filled with well-deserved fear. “Sir—”

Roman has never been so tempted to murder someone so close to him. “Get….out.”

The redness deepens, the fear exponential, as he stutters, “I—si—you—”

Roman starts stalking toward said door when Paul disappears, the door opening wider to reveal that he’s not alone.

Instantly.

Instantly, Roman notices the shift. He feels it more than anything. The way the unlimited rage starts melting ever so softly, still strong and pungent but dissipating.

He’s still livid, still filled with so much fury he doesn't know what to do with, but it’s tucked away just enough for him to grit out. “Leave us.”

Paul doesn’t need to be told twice, his Wise Man disappearing like a thief in the night leaving Roman alone with the one person he both does and doesn’t want to see.

She turns to shut the door. Quiet and gentle. Much like herself. He hears the click of the lock and watches how she surveys the room, expression unchanged. Like the destruction that surrounds them is something familiar and normal to her. And, then she’s looking at him, studying him. Head tilted, small smile on her pretty face, she closes the distance between them.

Roman looks away and closes his eyes when she’s close enough for her sweet, gourmand perfume to hit his senses. Still refuses to look at her as she lifts her hands to his face. Assessing him, assessing the extent of his injuries.

“You need stitches.”

Something he already knew but didn’t care to address, much preferring to unleash all of his rage and beyond in the setting before them.

“What are you doing here?” Because that’s the better question. The most important one. The thing that has his anger spiking once again. She shouldn’t be here, and she knows it, and yet, she stands before him.

But, it’s when she answers quietly, vulnerably, that his anger dwindles just a bit.“I wanted to see you.” Roman sighs. Another thing he already knew. It��s the only reason she would go against the protocol of things. “Afia took me….”

That makes all the sense. He knows how close they’ve become, just like how he knows that his sister-in-law marches to the beat of her own drum. She does what feels right and aligns with her convictions.

Even it goes against all of the protective precautions Roman has set in place.

He ignores the way she lifts her hand to his hair, pushing some of it back and out of his face. “This isn’t the way to see me.” A calm counter to match the soothing effect of her touch, a balm to his vexation. “I don’t….I don’t like you seeing this side of me.”

“And what side is that?” There’s a hint of humor in her voice as she transitions to massaging his scalp in that way she knows he likes. Loves, even. “Have you forgotten how we met?”

At that, a chuckle is emitted. The first thing he feels outside of the anger range since the start of the evening.

Never.

Never could he forget that first of many run-ins they had until Roman grew tired of short interactions, grew tired of teases and taunts that led to nothing more but constant wondering and thinking. About her. The way she occupied so much mental real estate should have been studied, especially for someone like himself who never looked for anything more but sexual satisfaction from women.

But, not her.

She was different.

Then

Roman was pissed, a conversation with his cousin escalating into something unnecessary, largely due to the alcohol coursing through Jey’s system. What started as a night of Roman and his two right hand men—and cousins—spending some rare free time at one of the Bloodline owned clubs turned into Jimmy playing mediator, separating his twin, Jey, from their cousin, Roman.

Two titans needing space before leveling the establishment. Hence Roman being the one to walk away, to find a slice of solace outside, aided by the surprising breeze. He’d run his hands over his face, reminding himself that nothing was gained by making an enemy out of one of the few people on this earth he trust.

Jeu was irksome, but he was still family. And at the end of the day, Roman knew this would pass over just as it had the times prior.

Didn’t make it any less fucking annoying to have to deal with the shit though.

Finally feeling settled and calm enough to be around his family without it turning into round two, Roman was making his way back inside the club, going down the hall when he spotted his other cousin, a distant cousin, Tama, talking to a woman. One hand planted on the wall, the other at his side, it was obvious he was trying to sweet talk her, something Roman paid no attention to.

Until in passing them, he heard it, heard the woman’s voice. Lighter and softer than anything he’d ever heard.

“I’m not interested,” she’d protested, something else present in her tone that gave him pause. Fear.

She sounded scared.

“Can you please move?”

Tama said something in that slithering voice of his that Roman always found annoying as shit, but he didn’t move. No, when Roman turned around, he’d in fact moved closer, reaching to touch the woman who turned her head away.

“I said move.” A bit firmer, less scared, but the anxiety was still audible.

Tama said something else, edging closer, prompting her to lift her hands to push him away, but she was too slow. One wrist in his tight grasp. “Let go—”

“Leave her alone,” Roman interjected, his voice surprisingly calm despite the anger flowing through him. The Bloodline has strict rules when it comes to women and children, and his cousin was violating just about every one of them.

Tama looked over, boredom and irritation on his face. “This doesn’t concern you, Roman.”

And just like that, whatever lid Roman managed to cap on his anger was being toyed with. Dangerously close to being lifted.

Roman took a step toward them, the woman turning to look at him. Brown locking with brown. Fear with determination.

For a brief second, Roman found it hard to look away, her beauty something he hadn’t seen in some time.

If ever.

“Did I ask you a question?” Was Roman’s harsh retort as he stared at his cousin. “Or, did I give you a fucking order?” Once more. The last time. “Let…her go.”

The influence of alcohol clearly had to be on his cousin, because the last thing Roman saw was Tama rolling his eyes as he prepared another disrespectful disregard of Roman’s command. “Come on, I’m just—”

Roman never found out just what Tama’s excuse was. He was too busy snatching him up and away from the woman and slamming him so hard against the wall that Roman was certain he was concussed. Lifted up, legs dangling, Roman had his forearm over Tama’s neck, severing oxygen.

His cousin’s wide eyed look of shock and horror much more pleasing than it probably should have been. “When I say to do something, you do that shit, you understand me?”

Tama continued to look terrified, struggling to reply due to lack of oxygen. Roman held him up long enough to see his skin turn red and his eyes bulge until he dropped him.

Tama fell to the floor, coughing violently, as Roman nodded away. “Get the fuck out of here.”

Out the club. Out his life. Hell, out the Bloodline for all Roman cared, so long as he was away from the nameless woman with captivating beauty and enchanting eyes.

That time around, Tama didn’t need to be told twice. Scrambling to his feet, he made himself scarce, leaving just two instead of three.

Rolling his eyes, already done with this shitty night, Roman turned to her but found himself staring once more.

Despite his disagreement with Tama’s approach, Roman could understand why his cousin was interested in the first place.

Not only was she beautiful, but the body matched in every way. Nice, full breasts accentuated by the open neckline of her dress, full thighs and a bountiful ass to match. Stacked in all the right places even with her short stature.

It was momentarily distracting, but Roman found it in him to ask, albeit gruffly, “you alright?”

Her eyes were wide this time around, though filled with less fear. More confusion than anything. Still, she nodded, opening her mouth with a quiet reply. “Th—thank you.”

Something unfamiliar filled Roman hearing her voice again. Much too sweet. Far too innocent.

All the intriguing.

Roman’s expression intensified as he found himself unable to keep from asking, “what’s your na—”

“Sola!” Another interruption, this time female, but an interruption nonetheless. Roman turned to see another woman, about the same height as the woman she called “Sola.” She cast him a glance, nervousness unmistakable. Shuffling over, she grabbed the woman’s arm, harshly whispering something in another language. She then offered an apologetic glance. “So sorry to bother you, Tribal Chief.”

The bothering was the interruption of his planned introduction, and Roman planned to say as such when she ushered the woman away, all while continuing to harshly scold Sola.

The same Sola who kept looking back at him.

The same way he was looking at her.

Now

Roman saw her three more times after that, each occurrence happening the most serendipitous of ways.

Then

Jimmy’s ass was always hungry. Had been that way since they were kids, always snacking, wanting to snack, or thinking about snacking.

Always at the most inconvenient times, too. Like, when they’re supposed to be headed to a meeting and time to spare equals time to eat for his tapeworm having ass cousin.

“Man, you know I love Mexican food,” was Jimmy’s excuse as he, Roman, and Jey walked into the Mexican restaurant they spotted while trying to find a place for takeout.

“You love all food,” was Roman’s disgusted resort. He’d much rather arrive ahead of time than right at time, but he was outvoted by his cousins. Hence his presence.

The three of them walked through the partially crowded restaurant, up to the counter where Jey didn’t hesitate to ring the bell.

“Someone will be with you, shortly,” someone, an employee cleaning off unused tables, informed. Jimmy nodded as a sign of thank you, while Roman continued to type on his phone, at least relieved by the fact his Wise Man was already present and waiting.

Some kind of Bloodline representation was better than none.

“Hola!” His head lifted the minute he heard it. The same saccharine tone and the same pretty face he’d laid eyes on a few weeks ago. Their gazes locked, recognition dawning on her end as well. A different setting. She wasn’t as dressed up as she was that night, sexy little dress traded for an apron covering a short sleeved shirt that hugged her ample chest.

Roman hardly ever found himself dumbstruck, but he was most definitely feeling as such in that moment.

“Hola!” Jimmy’s jovial voice broke their stare, something only Jey seemed to notice, Jimmy too consumed by his hunger. Like they didn’t eat before leaving the damn house. “Never been here before, but—” He sniffed the air, rubbing his hands together. “Sure does smell good.”

Shock continued to settle until eventually wavering. “Uhh, yes, sorry. We—it’s good.” She added, almost nervously. “The food, it’s….it’s good.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Jimmy winked and looked over at the menu. “Now, uhh, I usually stick with my chimichanga’s, but I’m in the mood to switch things up.”

Jey glanced at her, making a mental note to ask Roman what that was all about once they got back in the SUV. “What do you recommend?”

She was flustered, face turning red as she pushed back flyaways. “Ummm……” Eyes shut, she opened again with a renewed sense of focus, clearly trying not to think of how Roman continued to look at her. Only her. “The Tacos De La Calle are pretty popular.” She turned to point to the menu, and Roman wasted no time setting his gaze on her ass that sat up nice and round in her jeans. “You can get steak, chicken, al pastor or carnitas topped with diced onions and cilantro. And, it’s served with rice or Elote Mexicano.”

Jimmy and Jey shared a knowing glance. “Shit, sure sounds good to me.”

She smiled, and Roman wasn’t sure he’d ever seen something so pleasing. “So you want to try it?”

“Hell yeah.”

Laughter. Laughter that had Roman pushing something down that was foreign, unfamiliar, but also…..light.

She wrote down rapidly on her notepad, asking a few more questions of Jimmy and Jey before her attention shifted to Roman. “And you?”

Truth be told, Roman wasn’t focused on looking at the menu to figure out his order. He was too busy with the woman taking said orders. “Whatever they’re getting.”

She nodded with a small smile, writing something down before informing, “should be up in about twenty minutes.” Turning to leave, Jimmy beat Roman to the question on the tip of his tongue.

Well, one of them.

“Do we pay after or?”

She shook her head, eyes locked with Roman. “It’s on the house.”

Now

Roman was pressed for time by the time the order was ready that he didn’t have the chance to further talk with her, but he knew where she was, and that was all that mattered.

But, it didn’t.

It didn’t because the next three times he found himself “craving” Mexican food, she was nowhere to be found. And because he’s him, stubborn and prideful, he refused to ask any of the workers about her working hours.

On the fifth visit, he stopped trying. He had much more important things to do than to try to track down some random woman.

Even if random woman continued to cross his mind more than he would like to admit.

But, it was while sitting in the back of his SUV, looking out the window, trying to tune out the sound of the twins bickering, he saw her.

She was walking down the sidewalk in front of strip malls, deep in laughter along with another woman. They were both wearing scrubs and holding cups of coffee while making their way past the stores. In the moment, Roman was tempted to order the driver to stop, to take advantage of this most unexpected opportunity. But, it was in being far past her that the thought left him.

Stupid, silly.

What did it look like for him? The Tribal Chief, The Capo, The Head of the Table, to be chasing after a woman?

He had to let that shit go.

And for all intents and purposes, he tried. He tried damn hard.

And, then he saw her again.

Then

Clubbing had never really been Roman’s thing. Maybe in his early twenties, to some extent, to score hookups. But, as a grown ass man in his mid thirties, he was over it. Which was why he was prepared to call it a night, informed his cousins that he was headed home when he saw it.

Saw her.

She was with the woman who’d whisked her away from him that night and the other whom he saw her walking with that day.

The three of them were laughing and dancing, all beautiful, but there was something about her that drew him in, that had him unable to ignore this unexpected opportunity.

An opportunity he found himself feeling fading away when the three of them moved from the dance floor to the bar. He watched how she said something to the other two women before squeezing her way through the bodies, headed somewhere else.

The same place Roman was headed.

He waited to see she was moving toward the bathrooms before also heading in that same direction.

Did he feel like a fucking creep standing outside the women’s restroom, leaned up against the wall, waiting for someone he’d only seen a few times? Sure. Did it stop him from waiting for her?

Absolutely fucking not.

And he felt vindicated with his decision the moment she walked out. The way her eyes initially widened with surprise only to settle into something similar to joy.

Like, she was happy to see him.

As much was confirmed when the corner of her lips lifted into a small smile. “Hi.”

That voice.

Roman should not have been so satisfied to hear a single word leave someone’s mouth. But, he was. “Hey.”

He watched how she looked down, almost shyly before crossing her arms, acknowledging the nature of everything. “We keep running into each other.”

He nodded, agreeing. “We do.”

Her smile widened. “Solana.”

Roman’s eyes gleamed with all of the curiosity that’d consumed him since their meeting almost two months ago. “What?”

“You were going to ask my name that night,” she explained. “My name…..is Solana.”

Solana

Roman wasn’t sure he’d ever heard a prettier name.

It fit her.

“Roman,” he offered, noticing the way her smile deepened.

“I know who you are,” she shared, cheeks tinged pink. “Kinda hard not to.”

Fair.

Still, it left him wondering something, something he hadn’t allowed himself to think too much about for the mere fact that it acknowledged the…..complications of the whole thing.

“You know who I am,” he stated.

Not a question, but she answered like it was. “I do.”

Roman kicked his foot off the wall, taking a step toward her. He expected her to step back. She remained unmoved. “And you know what I do.”

Solana lifted her head, needing to do so because of their height difference. The same answer. “I do.”

The curiosity was at an all time high. He had to ask. “And you’re not scared?”

Of him. Scared of him is what he really meant, but something in him wouldn’t allow him to ask it.

Most likely because he didn’t want to know said answer.

Especially if it was anything other than no.

Solana smiled, voice just as soft. “I think if you planned to hurt me you would have done so by now.” Wise words, words that shocked him, even if he maintained a poker face. “So no…..I’m not scared.”

An unexpected answer, but one he was more than pleased to hear.

Maybe even relieved.

“Come with me.”

Roman was unsure what he planned to say to her, how he was going to respond to her confirming a lack of fear, but it certainly wasn’t that.

Something akin to indecision filled her face as she asserted, “I’m not going to have sex with you.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to.” An honest, rare thing. Roman couldn’t recall a time he’d invited a woman to his place for anything other than carnal reasons.

“And what are you expecting?” The return of her smile was relieving to Roman as he found himself reaching to gently move the back of his hand over her cheek, unsurprised to find she felt as soft as she looked.

His answer was sincere and truthful. “To talk.”

She agreed to leave with him, to go back to his place where they did, in fact, talk. They talked almost the whole night. Roman learning that the two women he’d seen her with were her cousins, one on her mom’s side, the other on her dad’s. Her best friends, was what she called them.

He also learned the reason he didn’t see her again at the restaurant was because she only worked there occasionally. It was owned by her grandma and where she worked all throughout high school and college, so her returns were solely when her grandma requested extra help.

And, that was one of those days.

She told him how her main job was at the local hospital where she worked as a pediatric nurse. There was no missing the way her face lit up as she discussed her love for her job, for her family, even her dog, Dulce.

And Roman soaked it all in. Took in every bit of it. Absorbed her light and radiance, such a contrast to his world.

She was so different from his world.

And, he found himself liking it. Liking her a lot. Liking the way they ended up on the sofa, her perched up against him, his finger trailing up and down her arm as they spoke, learned anything and everything about each other.

It was then he knew she was special. That this, whatever had already been building between them, was special.

And, that he didn’t want to lose it.

Lose her.

It was why he found himself cutting right to the part he’d been dreading the moment he realized this was more than just random run-ins and that she was more than just a random woman.

“You know if we do this….” He’d started, waiting for her to look up at him. “It can’t be public.” Her confused expression forced him to elaborate. “You being with me automatically puts you in danger. I won’t have that, so if we do this, it has to be in secret. We can’t go out in public. I can’t have you seen with me, because it puts a target over your head, and I don’t want that.”

Just hours of actually being able to talk to Solana, to get to know her, had Roman already convinced he’d be fucking sick if something happened to her. And her being paraded around as someone close to him, let alone a romantic partner, would bring on exactly that.

So, it would have to be just as he described. All of their interactions with one another, dates even, would have to take place in private. They could never have a traditional relationship.

Ever.

He studied her, assessed how she took in his explanation, as she was mulling it over in her head. Part of him was prepared for the most obvious response. That that wouldn't work for her, and he wouldn’t fault her. It wouldn’t work for most women.

But clearly, she wasn’t most women.

Smile small, voice lightly teasing, she replied after a good two minutes of silence. “It’s a good thing I like being low key then, huh?”

Now

Looking back, Roman is almost certain that was the same night he fell in love with her. He didn’t know it then, of course. Just knew he liked her, enjoyed her, enjoyed being around her even if the moments ended up being spaced out as time went on due to his schedule as well as hers.

Regardless, in the times he couldn’t be with her physically, he made sure she always knew that she was always on his mind. He spoiled the hell out of her, surprising her almost daily with delivered flowers, chocolates, and any and all designer items he could think of. She wasn’t materialistic. Liked simple things like art, books, and music, but she also appreciated the things he did for her. He could always see the appreciation in her face whenever he could go visit her.

She didn’t ask for it, didn’t expect it but was utterly thankful and grateful. Though what most pleased her was the time they could spend together, in person. He craved that too and took advantage of every opportunity that arose to do just that.

To see her.

To feel her soft body pressed against his.

Even the nights where he stayed over at her place, stayed with her throughout the night. That was the other thing about it, that made it all so different.

Sex.

There was no sex in the relationship when it first started. Solana had confided in him that she was still a virgin and wasn’t prepared for that to change. Not for someone she’d just met.

Another way Roman knows he’s loved his girl from the moment he laid eyes on her, because no way in God’s green earth would he ever pursue a relationship with someone he couldn’t fuck.

All he did was fuck. Sex was just a thing for him, an enjoyable, pleasurable thing. But, what he easily found more enjoyable was her, just spending time with and being around her.

It was almost as if that absent part of the relationship didn’t make a difference so long as he could just be around her.

That was what he wanted from her. Just her time. That was it.

But, it didn’t take away from the way their relationship reached a completely different level, became something deeper, something stronger, something unbreakable almost when intimacy was added into the mix.

The night she allowed him to take her virginity, the first time “I love you” trickled out of both their mouths as she held onto him while he thrust into her, vowing his love and devotion for her, the same way she voiced the same for him.

That was the night he knew.

The night he realized he couldn’t live without her.

The night he realized he wouldn’t.

That next day, he started preparations on her ring. Custom. Of course. A month after that, said ring was done and ready. Roman can still recall the sound of her scream that awakened him from his sleep as she stared at him and then the stunning engagement ring he’d slipped on her finger while she slept atop him.

Yes.

Her answer was yes.

And a month later, after deep, honest discussions as to what they wanted their big day to look like, they tied the knot in front of only their closest family and friends. The few people who knew of their relationship.

He didn’t care, because truth be told, Roman would have married her in a fucking gas station if that’s what it took to make her his. To give her his last name.

To make her his forever.

Roman moved her out of her condo and into a beautiful mansion about half an hour away from his penthouse. Not too close, but not too far. Not his preference considering she was now his wife but a necessity for her safety, because that was what mattered most. Keeping their relationship a secret from the public.

Keeping that target from appearing over her head.

Solana lifting her hand to his temple pulls Roman from traveling down memory lane. She frowns. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re not concussed.”

He’d be surprised, too. That fucker Rollins stomped the fuck out of his head. But, that’s not a priority right now.

“Sol….”

“I know,” she sighs, eyes dropping to the ground. “I know I shouldn’t have come, but like I said, I wanted to see you, Roman.” At that, he finally looks at her, opening his eyes and taking her in. “I’ve missed you….”

Three words that leave her mouth more than he’d like to admit.

“I’ve missed you, too,” he shares, quiet and true. Resolve crumbles as he brings his hand to the small of her back, pulling her to him. With an almost sense of hesitancy, he takes his other hand and moves it under her baggy hoodie. There’s an indescribable feeling that showers him the minute his palm rests against the smooth skin of her swollen belly. “How is she?”

Solana’s smile is bright as she moves her own hand over his. “Good.” Solana guides it around, clearly wanting him to feel the movement. “She’s definitely active….”

More or less the same thing Solana has shared with him via their phone calls, texts, and Facetime conversations. All normal symptoms for his six-month pregnant wife. Symptoms he’d give anything to be able to experience in real time with her.

Not being present for her during this exciting time in their lives has also had his stress levels on the higher end. Hence the shitshow that was tonight only exacerbated things.

Roman darts his focus to her, asking with all seriousness. “And you?”

He sees it, the way she’s clearly downplaying her answer. Watering it down. “Always better when I get to see you.”

It’s not a direct answer, but it’s an answer, nonetheless. Roman will revisit the conversation later. Right now, he has other priorities he’s put off long enough.

Solana bringing one hand to the back of his head, stroking the hair at the nape of his neck is exactly the soothing gesture that he needs. He sighs, content and comforted. “You always make me feel better…..”

More than better.

Loved.

She makes him feel loved.

Solana’s eyes twinkle with something close to adoration. “Then my job is done.” She leans up on her toes to kiss his cheek. Stroking his beard, she asks, “let them tend to you….please?” A heavy sigh followed by a nod of agreement. Another kiss as she moves back to her feet, Roman’s hand never once leaving her belly that houses their firstborn. His little girl. “I—I’ll go back to the house.”

“No.” She frowns, prompting him to take his free hand not feeling her baby bump to her face, cupping her cheek. “Wait for me.” Her face lights up with some form of excitement. “I’ll stay the weekend with you.”

Roman sees it. Sees the relief and appreciation that fills her pretty, glowing face. “Really?”

He nods and leans forward, kissing her temple. “Give me an hour.”

Roman can’t recall the last time he spent more than a day and a night with her, always having to leave, never wanting to stay too long. To risk too many people inquiring and wondering where the Tribal Chief disappears off to.

His wife.

He disappears off to be with his wife and unborn child.

The same as he’ll do this weekend. To get away from it all. To continue to cool down, to find sanctuary and solace in the one person who always provides him so. Unlike anyone else.

Because no one else can.

He’ll stay with her, continue to help her with the nursery that’s just about done, narrow down options for his little girl’s name, finish going over safety protocol for when she gives birth and just be with her.

Because as hard as he tries, he can’t give her everything.

But this, he can give her this.

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