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roosterforme · 1 month ago

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Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 27 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Although Bradley wasn't usually one for big gestures, he supposed he was when it came to you. Now he wanted the wife and the wedding and the honeymoon and all of it. Preferably sooner than later.

Warnings: fluff, adult language, smut, 18+

Length: 3000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Bradley had never been a big gesture kind of guy. He never really saw the point in it. He always figured it was easier to tell how much someone cared about you through their day-to-day interactions instead of the occasional over the top displays.

He knew Natasha had his back by the way she simply helped him prepare for tonight by taking you out for drinks without asking too many questions. And he hoped she knew that the steady friendship he built with her was strong even though their birthday steak dinners and weekend morning runs weren't flashy. He felt similarly about Maverick, thankful that he knew where he stood with him once again without having to prove it.

But Bradley wanted you to know that he was going to love you forever by the way he treated you when you were alone together, and by the way he couldn't help but occasionally show off his romantic side. He knew you didn't need words written in the sky when he would prefer to pour his heart out to you in letters and emails, but he didn't want to simply propose by handing you his mother's ring either.

That's why he got your students to fold up the paper planes. Because he just couldn't help but both ask you to marry him and show you how much those letters changed his life at the same time.

"Bradley?" Your voice was breathy as he watched your eyes flick to the wall and then back to his face. "Paper planes?"

He smiled. "It's all the letters you and your class sent to me. You know... when you were looking for a Naval aviator to write back and answer a few questions? I guess a few questions turned into a lot more than that. And a simple correspondence with a gorgeous fourth grade teacher soon made me realize that you're the woman of my dreams. My pen pals changed my whole life." He gestured toward the wall. "Your students helped me fold them up yesterday."

"They did?" you whispered as he closed the distance to you before getting down on one knee.

"They did," he confirmed, looking up at your beautiful face as tears filled your eyes. "I love you. And I have something for you, Gorgeous." He swallowed hard. "It was my mom's." He held up the engagement ring that he remembered from his childhood but thought had been long ago buried with Carole. "I want you to have it. Unless you don't like it. It's from 1984, and it's definitely vintage, so I won't be upset if you tell me you'd rather have something more modern. Maverick was holding onto her engagement ring for safekeeping." He knew he was rambling, but now that it was time to say the most important words, his nerves were taking over. "I had no idea until he heard me talking about how desperately I want to marry you."

"Bradley," you gasped, chest rising and falling rapidly with emotion as a tear streaked down your cheek. "Are you serious?"

He was serious. He was in love. He wanted this forever. "Will you marry me?"

You didn't make him wait long to see your beautiful smile and hear your calming voice. "Yes. Yes, I'll marry you, Bradley."

You started to drop down to your knees, and he caught you along the way as your lips met his. He could feel you everywhere. Your arms around his neck were familiar, and so was your soft laughter and your kisses. But your words promising forever were new.

"I love you, Gorgeous," he swore between kisses. "I fucking love you, Baby."

"I love you, too," you whispered, cupping his face in both of your hands and kissing him.

Bradley realized he was holding the ring tight in his hand and loosened his grip so you could really take a look. "Let me put it on your finger? Make it official?"

You nodded in excitement, and then Bradley had to blindly slide it into place as you kissed him relentlessly.

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

Each of the paper planes taped to the wall was familiar to you. After so many months, you could tell which of your students had written the notes based on the handwriting. As you ran your fingers along the letters, you recognized your own handwriting there as well. The flickering candle light shone on the paper planes as well as the ring on your finger.

This was all so romantic. You never dreamed you'd be so thoroughly loved, but here you were with Bradley's lips on the side of your neck as he stood behind you, letting you inspect the message he hung up on the wall.

MARRY ME?

"In an abundance of detail, please explain to me how you managed to get my students to fold all of these up during Career Day without me noticing."

His deep rumble of laughter sent goosebumps along your skin. "You have to know by now who my regular accomplice is."

You spun around in his arms and kissed him as his big hands settled low on your hips. "Natasha can't be trusted," you whispered, gently running your fingers through his hair. "She's too loyal to you. But I know your strategy now."

"That's okay. I don't need her to be sneaky on my behalf anymore. Proposing to you was my main objective."

"Bradley," you whispered, smiling so much your face hurt. You examined the ring as you dragged your fingers through his hair. Part of you was still surprised by how the evening turned out, but he had been promising you from the very start that he was serious about you. "Bradley, you just gave me your mom's ring."

"Yeah," he grunted, running his nose along your cheek and ear. His breath was warm against your skin as he said, "We can pick out something else if you don't like it. The diamond is pretty small, because my parents got married when they were twenty-four. I think that's all my dad could afford, and-"

You silenced him with your lips on his. "It's perfect. Like you. I don't want anything else. Or anyone else."

Those big hands were on your butt now, and his body was snug up against yours as he kissed you so hard, you moaned. The living room smelled like all of the different candles at one time, and the lighting was kind of magical. And you realized you were engaged to the man you started to fall in love with before you even kissed him for the first time.

As soon as you took one small step toward the bedroom, Bradley followed your lead. You could tell he was excited as he scooped you up into his arms, and you kept yourself snug against him as he grew harder for you. Just as you ran your lips along his scars while he carried you through the bedroom doorway, his stomach growled so loudly, you started to laugh.

"You didn't eat dinner," you whispered, kissing him softly, trying to hold back the desire you felt.

"Baby, I have a whole plan," he replied, all smiles as you nipped at his lips until you landed on your back on the bed. "Dinner at Salvatore's is happening, but not until I fuck my fiancée."

You whined softly as he dragged your leggings slowly down, and you arched your back so he could remove your shirt. Then you watched him struggle to get undressed with his erection as you touched yourself. "You're taking me out for an engagement dinner?" you asked, running your fingers between your breasts and down your belly. He stumbled out of his jeans, eyes fixed on your body as you circled your clit with your middle finger.

"Well... maybe not," he grunted. "I should have thought this through a little better. Now I just want to keep you in bed."

The words were taken from your mouth and turned into a moan as he spread your legs apart and kissed you where you were touching yourself. "Bradley." Your fingers went to his hair as he teased and kissed his way up your body, letting you taste yourself on his lips and mustache.

"I love you, Gorgeous," he crooned, guiding the tip of his cock through your wetness until you were clenching with need. When you were ready for him, all you had to do was roll your hips up. When you were ready for more, he filled you up and didn't stop until you came.

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

"I should probably just try to get us a standing reservation," Bradley murmured, making you laugh as you were led to your table at Salvatore's. The two of you just finished a bottle of the overpriced wine you liked so much at the bar, and now you were looking up at him like you'd rather just go back home for round two of engagement sex instead of dinner. But he knew he wouldn't make it to that point until he ate something.

"Don't look at me like that," he whispered, grinning as you sat down when the waiter pulled out your chair.

As soon as you and he were both seated, you asked, "How exactly would you like me to look at my future husband?"

Your words left him a little breathless as he reached for your left hand which now displayed the ring that told everyone else you were going to be his wife. He couldn't stop touching you, and you were just as bad as your legs tangled with his beneath the table. "Maybe we should have made sandwiches at home."

Even mentioning food out loud made his stomach growl louder as he inhaled the delicious scent of pasta. "We'll be back home soon," you told him. "In the meantime, while we take a break from our engagement sex marathon, why don't we talk about our summer wedding?"

Bradley nodded as he laced his fingers with yours. "You know, I always wanted to try running a marathon, but I think I like this type even better."

"You can use the sex marathon as part of your training regimen."

The smile on his lips wasn't going to go away anytime soon. Maybe it was the same smile that had been there since the first time he looked at your photo. "Are you really going to agree to a summer wedding?"

"You told my students that's what you wanted," you replied immediately.

"I owe your kiddos so much. If they didn't think I was cool as hell, I'd have gotten nowhere with their teacher. We should invite them to our wedding."

You laughed as Bradley waved down the waiter and ordered three entrees. He was still holding your hand as he told the guy, "And you may as well just bring some to-go containers out along with the food. We've been engaged for about two hours, so I'm getting a little antsy to get back home again. I'm sure you can understand."

"Congratulations," he murmured as you cradled your forehead in your right hand.

"Bradley," you half groaned and half laughed.

"What?" he replied, downing half of his glass of water. "He took one look at you and knows exactly why I can't wait to go home. Now can we talk more about wedding plans?"

You looked beyond amused and very pleased with yourself as you asked, "Do you really want a summer wedding?"

"Absolutely, Gorgeous Girl," he confirmed. "This year. Please don't make me wait."

You bit your lip for a few seconds before you said, "It's already February. That doesn't give us a lot of time. Unless..." Then the waiter returned with some bread, and you asked him, "Do you have a catering menu?"

He nodded. "I'll bring one out with your food and the containers."

Now you were the one tugging on Bradley's hand. "I have a great idea! What if we don't really have a wedding at all?"

His face fell as his lips parted silently. None of this really mattered before he met you, but now that he was here, he could clearly picture the day in his mind. "Baby, I want us to have a wedding day. A white dress and my uniform and flowers and wedding photos and all that shit."

"Bradley," you whispered, wrenching your hand free so you could drag your chair closer to his at the small table. Your palm was on his cheek, tilting his face so you could kiss him while you stroked his scars. "I didn't mean it like that." You kissed him again. "You give me these butterflies, and I swear I can't handle it," you whispered, running your nose along the side of his. "What if we have a simple wedding where we can invite my students? We can still do the dress and the uniform and as many photos as we want. But I think I know the best spot where we can have it all. And then we could go big on our honeymoon."

The wedding, the fourth graders, the honeymoon, the wife. Now he was smiling again. "Tell me more, Gorgeous. In an abundance of detail."

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

If anyone saw the two of you, it would have been comical. It was dark out, and you were holding the bag of food containers and trying to unlock the door while Bradley held onto you.

"I think it's a little bit early to be carrying me into the house like this. Pretty sure that's for after the wedding."

"You can't blame me for being excited."

You pushed the door open, and even in the nearly dark house, you could still see the paper airplanes on the wall spelling out his proposal. "Are we keeping that romantic display where it is?" you asked as Bradley took you to the kitchen.

He glanced back over his shoulder. "For now. But I don't want them to get faded or anything like that. I'll flatten the letters out again eventually and find somewhere to store them."

You gasped as you unpacked the food containers and found something at the bottom of the bag. "They gave us an entire cheesecake!" It said Congratulations written in chocolate, and you bounced around in place as Bradley's arm wrapped around you. "That was so sweet of them."

He chuckled and whispered, "They know what they're doing. They have a loyal customer in my wife who always orders the expensive wine."

His fingertips brushed your neck before you felt his mustache there. "You already know I ordered it by accident the first time," you gasped as he sucked gently on the sensitive spot below your ear. "And I'm not your wife yet."

"Based on our tentative plans, you will be in a few short months," he murmured. "Now why don't we put the food away and go back to bed until Monday morning?"

"Monday morning?" you moaned. "You feeling ambitious?"

Bradley practically threw the food into the refrigerator. "My belly is full, you look hot, we're getting married, and we can take a break for cheesecake in a few hours. So yes, I'm feeling very ambitious, Gorgeous."

Your smile was coy, and your voice was low. "A few hours without a break?"

Bradley kissed your parted lips before tasting your tongue. "I want to get some practice in before our honeymoon. Isn't Paris the city of sex?" he asked with a smirk.

"The city of love!" you said, bursting into laughter as he hauled you toward the bedroom again.

"We'll make it both. I want to practice both."

It was always both when you were with him. He was sexy and sweet, his voice close to your ear as you had each other for the third time today. You already knew that all it took was the diamond on your finger to make you go a little wilder for each other. A deployment that ended with an engagement ring? You never wanted this feeling to stop.

The diamond sparkled on your finger as you tugged at his hair. He was so methodical with you. There was a sweet precision to everything he did which felt like the embodiment of his written letters. His voice was familiar and raw with emotion next to your ear as he filled you in every way. His lips were everywhere, praising you and drawing out your orgasm. Calling you the love of his life.

"I need this forever, Gorgeous," he panted, fucking you harder. "I need you."

You were clinging to him, kissing his scars as you came. Then the two of you snuggled in bed and discussed your plans for the perfect wedding.

Although there were more breaks for food and the cheesecake, he did in fact keep you very busy until Monday morning. You went to work exhausted, but you made a quick stop to ask your school administrator if your wedding idea was even feasible. The answer surprised you. Then you got yourself settled in your classroom where eighteen kids soon arrived, and Violet set off a ripple effect as soon as she gasped and asked, "Did Lieutenant Bradshaw give you a wedding ring?"

Jayden and Nia both came running over to your desk to see it. Henry shouted, "She got married! Knew it!" Jackie screamed into her hands about how the magical paper planes worked, and you had to stand and try to calm everyone down.

"I didn't get married! Yet. But Lieutenant Bradshaw asked me to marry him this summer, and I said yes, so I guess the magical paper airplanes did work."

Your classroom erupted into cheers and shouting as you smiled. Thank goodness you went out on a limb and decided to write to a US Naval Aviator. Thank goodness it was Bradley who answered.

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

Wedding and honeymoon up next? Then the epilogue? We're almost there! Anyone think they know where they'll have their wedding? Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 28

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545 notes · View notes

falling-star-cygnus · 4 months ago

Note

If you're still looking for billy angst ideas I got something what if he got heavily injured got close to powering off and muttered something like "I don't wanna die." Or something like that

Or he actually did die/power off but by some miracle powered on again and then insert everyone's reactions

I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE -> the way i shot up out of my bed and ran to my computer to write this is genuinely insane considering my athleticism abilities [which is to say none]

i don't get a lot of asks, so when i do it always makes me kick my lil feetsies

TRIGGER WARNINGS: robot dismemberment, murder [implied], brief suicide idealization [doesn't finish the thought], kidnapping [i don't write it but he's clearly not there willingly], dehumanization [referring to Billy as an 'it' in a derogatory sense]

"Nicole."

She chokes on nothing but air and nearly drops her phone in the process. What the hell, why did Anby feel the need to do this her. Appearing from the shadows like some sort of cheesy apparition was only funny when other people got spooked! She'd been texting the Proxy!

Anby, at least, waits for her older sister to settle down again before continuing:

"Where's Billy?"

Why would I know!? Nicole narrows her eyes at the smaller girl, pursing her lips in thinly veiled indignance. It wasn't her job to track her teammate's whereabouts off of missions. Or even on missions. They were capable people.

"Huh? I don't know. Why?"

Something about Anby's appearance throws her off.

Her white bangs are looser, tickling her chin and shoulder and out of that itty bitty braid that kept it out of her face. Come to think of it, Nicole hadn't seen her with that braid since yesterday morning...

Weird.

"I wanted him to redo my hair," she answers, placid as ever as she rolls the little green cap between her fingers, "Nekomata hasn't seen him either."

"Oh- Well, I can redo it for you, Anb-" "No thanks, I know how to do it."

Nicole can feel a vein twitching somewhere in her forehead. She loved her sister, she loved her sister, she loved her sister, she loved-

"Then why ask."

There's a sort of tentative silence that follows as the smaller girl fidgets, almost suffocating and sticky and wrong- Anby was uneasy about something... and that never boded well.

"...he's been sad lately. Like a dog that can't go outside when it rains."

Odd comparison, but I suppose it's fitting.

Nicole hadn't noticed anything particularly different about the android. He had been a little less energetic, maybe, more content to just... sit quietly in the company of the other Hares..

Oh god, he'd totally been acting like a sad dog.

"I thought doing my hair again might cheer him up," Anby continues, like she hadn't just made the older Demara feel slightly guilty for not noticing sooner. They all lived together.

"When was the last time you saw him?" Nicole decides to ask, despite the cloying sense of dread settling in her stomach like cement. "Did he go somewhere recently?"

A voice throws in her two cents in her other ear, "I saw him heading out yesterday, around 12!"

"Ack- Nekomata!"

Why was everyone trying to give her a heart attack today!?

"Oops.. Sorry, Nicole! But Billy promised he'd bring me back mackerel! And then he never came back."

"Billy wouldn't break a promise."

The sword wielder says it matter-of-factly, in the same tone she would use to insist that a boss theme was about to play. Or like how someone would say the sky is blue.

She wasn't wrong, though, Billy didn't break promises. Not the ones he makes to them.

An awful feeling of impending doom washes over the three.

Nicole clears her throat. Time to be the boss:

"Let's think about this, did he mention where he was going at all? Or when he'd be back?"

They all check their messages. Nothing.

Call history. Blank.

…emails? All spam.

Of course.

Don't panic, Nicole reminds herself, He could just be... hanging with Wise! Or that wolf guy.. uh.. Von something?

Anby was getting antsier with each failed clue, her fingers twitching and curling into intermittent fists by her sides. Nekomata was trying to act unaffected, but her ears were tilted back just slightly too far.

"Urgh... OK!" the two smallest members of the Hares jolt at the sudden exclamation, but the boss is too busy dialing Billy's cell number to care, "if he won't come to us, we'll go to him!"

The number rings, and rings, and rings- the android always answered on the fifth- and rings, and rings, and-

Click.

"Well, well~ You sure called faster than I expected. Has it even been 24 hours yet?"

That... was not Billy.

-><-. . .-><-

He didn't know how this happened.

Or- scratch that, he did, but... why? He thought-

"I thought we were friends," the android shouts to the retreating figure, his arms captured by two giant mechanical palms "Really? I mean- seriously? Oh, that's hilarious. And sad." Billy can feel his energy draining, but he doesn't go quick enough to miss the final parting words. "You're the least missed Hare, man, and the cat's only been there a week."

Was that.. true?

No. Nekomata had- Nicole cared- Anby would miss..

him.

Would they? He was still trying to formally befriend the Thiren girl, Anby could do her own hair now, and the Boss- would she even notice?

If he wasn't so sure coming online would cause a spike of pain to ram through his throat, he'd shake the thought away. Nicole would notice! At mission time... probably. Or when she needed him.

How long would that be, though?

Unfortunately, Billy's not allowed to spiral any further when an insistent tap-tap-tap scratches at his face plate. He fizzles into painful consciousness with a groan-

With a groan.

With-

...why wasn't he making any noise?

Any attempts made to speak- to vocalize this awful sparking in his throat- end in silence. Billy 's eyes widen, and from his peripheral he can catch the odd glimpse of wiring sticking out under his chin.

...No- no, no, no- no no.

Raucous laughter breaches his sensors, and suddenly his face is pulled up to see the same man that had betrayed him- grinning and amused.

"What's the matter, android," he jeers, releasing his face to drop something on the ground, "Cat got your tongue?"

That 'something' bounces once before landing in a sizzling, unassuming lump right before Billy's glitching eyes.

...his voice box.

-><- . . . -><-

Anby snatches the phone out of Nicole's hand.

"Where's Billy," she demands, shocking the other two Hares silent

She can't bring herself to care at the moment, the way rage is boiling under her skin. Her voice has never been particularly emotive, neither has her face, this she knew intrinsically. A fact of her life that she didn't care to fix.

But Billy was her friend.

Billy understood her. He did her hair whenever she asked, tried to protect her when she didn't need it- not because he didn't think Anby was capable but because he wanted to. Billy explained things she didn't want to, gave her an in to conversations-

"You really care about this thing?" "Billy's not a thing. Where is he." Anby would not ask a third time.

The voice on the other end snickers, amused for some unfathomable reason. And it's like Nicole can sense her impending neurosis, because she pries her phone out of the smaller girl's hand.

"We won't ask again," she emphasizes, fully in Boss mode now, "Why do you have Billy's phone?"

"Calm your tits, ladies."

Nekomata hastily pries the phone out Nicole's hand before it can be crushed.

"What I mean is- relax! Look.. if it'll make you feel better, I'll return it to you. Er- it's parts anyway. Hah!"

It. He was calling Billy... an it.

Something dark poisons the room.

"Just kidding! Anyway- Keep better track of your things, Hares! Finders keepers, you know?"

Click.

...

"Anby. Nekomata."

The girls stand at attention, awaiting the instructions sure to follow their stormy faced Boss.

"We're going to Random Play."

-><- . . . -><-

...everything hurt.

His throat, what was left of his right arm, what was left of his left leg, his torso where red wire hung out like streamers.. The traitor- because it brought some sort of vindicative relief to call his tormentor that- hadn't been joking about selling him for parts. At all.

Pieces of prior 'conversations' looped themselves over and over again like a broken record- a snake eating it's own tail- and at this point Billy couldn't tell if it was his own busted thoughts or if the man had taken his mind too.

"Wow~ an android with a pain threshold.. that's rare. You can feel all of this then?" Billy, of course, couldn't answer with any more than a twitch as pliers hacked away at his wiring. "Bet we'll get a pretty penny off you then."

"I don't really get the point of androids, you know? This tech could be so much better utilized for prosthetics."

"Called your buddies earlier." That had sparked the most reaction out of him so far, that got him to raise his head with worried eyes. "Oh-ho! What'd you get excited for? They're not looking for you."

His voice box still sat on the ground in front of him, mocking as it hissed out sparks from time to time. At least that could still make a sound.

Were the Hares... really not coming for him? Would there be anything left to find if they did?

Billy could hardly open his eyes as it was, even if the Hares could find him in this Hollow- would they even want him around if he couldn't do anything?

Maybe... it would be better if he just-

The metal doors screech open again.

-><- . . . -><-

The tacky feeling of blood, whether caked under her nails or smeared over her cheek, would normally bother her.

This she wears as a badge of honor.

They had been lucky, all things considered, to have connections to the former Phaethon siblings. It still took too long, in Anby's opinion, but Belle and Wise had found the seller that had listed- for a lack of better phrasing- Billy's parts.

"'Ethically sourced' my fine ass!" Nicole had shouted at the monitor, barely restraining herself from grabbing it and shaking.

Anby flicks her blade to the side, watching disinterestedly as blood splatters against the scorched pavement.

"Alright, you guys," Belle- in Eous' body- piped up, "Billy should be behind this door."

What's left of him, goes painfully unsaid.

None of them want to open the door, not when it could confirm a truth they've blatantly ignored the possibility of. Billy could be nothing but wires and lost data behind these doors.

Schrödinger's Android.

Anby takes the plunge and shoulders the creaky metal open.

At first, she's worried that they had the wrong warehouse. The inside is dark- quiet- and she can't immediately see anything with the rubble blocking the way further inside.

That was fine, Nekomata was the only Hare that could marginally compete with her in speed anyway. Sooner than she could really blink- or think about it- the smaller Demara finds herself atop the rubble pile.

There he is.

Billy is in the center of the warehouse, powered off and forced to his remaining knee by robot palms clamped around what's left of his limbs. The wires in his torso hang out like entrails, frayed and stripped at the ends and wrong.

Anby trips over herself to get to him, uncharacteristically uncoordinated as she finally- finally reunites with the android.

"Billy," she breathes out, watery and insistent as she presses her bloodied hands to his cold face, "Billy, wake up. We're here."

Please wake up, please don't let this be for nothing-

Familiar, warm, yellow eyes finally flicker open. It's a struggle, both to watch and to experience probably, as the Hares' big brother reluctantly comes back online.

Reluctantly. Billy shouldn't be reluctant.

There's no talking, no glitchy recall of her name, not even a whisper of pain- or any sound- as his eyes widen disbelievingly at her. Billy shouldn't be quiet.

This was wrong.

Something sparks in the corner of Anby's eye, and the realization that comes with it makes her wish she had done more than dull her blade. Billy's voice box, crudely ripped out and left in plain sight...

"Anby, did you find him?"

The android's warm yellow eyes somehow widen even further at the sound of Nicole's voice and Nekomata's footsteps. When the two come into view, the faceplate under the smaller Demara's hands trembles.

Anby recounts what she learned, making sure to keep her hands on Billy at all times as the reunited Hares' get their metal teammate free. Obviously, he can't walk- he can barely support himself- and they should really wait to celebrate until they're out of the Hollow, but...

"Billlly," Nicole all but sobs as she pulls the android into a hug he can't reciprocate, "you idiot. We were worried sick about you! You're never leaving the base without telling one of us ever again!"

Nekomata joins in from behind, wrapping her thin arms with exceeding amounts of care around Billy's torn neck. She doesn't say anything, but the way the Thiren girl buries her face into his synthetic hair says enough.

Anby hadn't re-braided her fringe since noting his disappearance and the loose hair sticks uncomfortably to the blood on her cheek as she bullies her way under his remaining arm. Belle stands off just slightly to the side, touched by the family reunion but unwilling to interfere with the tender moment.

The Cunning Hares' had missed their resident big brother deeply; now that he was back, they weren't ever letting him go again.

AND THERE SHE IS!! FINITO, EL FIN, FINIE! sorry if the ending was kinda rushed, but i hope you enjoyed! lmk what you thought and, of course, if there's anything else you want to see me write or elaborate on!

#i honestly think about anby and billy's friendship SO much #cut out some bits bc this was getting too long for tumblr #zzz #zzzero #billy kid zzz #zenless zone zero #billy kid #cunning hares #zzz nicole #anby demara #nekomata #nicole demara #found family #nekomiya mana #zzz billy #zzz fanfic #the ramblings of a fallen star

49 notes · View notes

drurrito · 1 year ago

Text

I wrote this fairly quickly bc my crim prof is painfully hot and I am suffering as a result. All mistakes are mine.

Pairings: LawStudent!Reader x LawProfessor!Wanda

Warnings: like one cuss word lol -- reader's age is not specified and neither is Wanda's at this point -- if you want to be a K-thru-JD, be my guest.

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You’re staring at the heavy wooden door in front of you. Your eyes trace over the markings, this building is your favorite on campus because of the architecture. It was once a grand library in the late 1800s and now it holds most of your 1L classes. It’s also home to the office of your Criminal Law Professor whom you’re supposed to be meeting with in a few seconds.

You let out a long exhale as you stare at your watch. You try to ignore how sweaty your palm is as you clench your hand into a fist to knock on the door.

“Come in,” your professor’s voice is calm, with no hint as to why you were summoned to her office in the first place. It came through an email yesterday afternoon after class. You blinked at your screen while your friends teased you about being in trouble.

Are you in trouble?

You step into her office and she’s sitting at her desk writing something down.

“You wanted to see me, Professor Maximoff?”

“Yes,” she sets down her pen, “can I get you anything? Water? Tea?” She gives you a warm smile that would normally disarm anyone but it only makes you stiffen with nerves.

“No thank you, professor. I’m good.”

“Sure," she leans back in her chair and gives you a serious look that makes you flinch, "what did you think of the lesson yesterday? Any questions?”

Did she really call me in here to talk about yesterday’s lesson?

“No, professor, none that I can think of. Inchoate crimes seem pretty straightforward,” you nervously nod and her lips twitch into a smile.

“I look forward to reading your analysis on it for tomorrow’s discussion board then.”

“I’m just about done with it,” you breathe, it was the truth. You know you won’t see your class ranking until after your first year of law school but it seems to already be obvious to everyone that you’re top of the class. It’s not by luck, you've always had to work harder than everyone else to get where you needed to be. It does help that you’ve wanted to go to law school since you were a child. Now that you’re here, everything just clicks.

“Y/N,” Profesor Maximoff’s voice makes your eyes snap to hers. Her usually bright shade of hazel eyes are now much, much darker.

“You’re a good student, you know that right?"

That makes you clear your throat, “thank you, professor, I’m just trying to make the most of this opportunity — it’s pretty busy at times.”

“You must be too busy to realize how you come across as well.”

“I’m sorry?” You have to ask to make sure you heard her correctly.

“You realize this is the first time you’ve held eye contact with me for more than three seconds?" She crosses her arms and that makes you tense even more.

“You’ve been counting?”

“At some point, yes. It’s like clockwork," she unfolds one arm to frame her face and you can't help but appreciate her jawline and the perfectly manicured finger that's tapping away at her cheek.

You have to look away and take a breath. You feel like an idiot for having such obvious tells. Of course, if Sam and Bucky can clock your nervous habits, Professor Maximoff can too.

“You don’t let your eyes land on me for too long, they bounce around the room a lot, like right now.”

Your eyes fall on her again, but this time you make it a point to hold it for as long as you can physically bear it.

“I’m sorry, Professor. I’m not rude, just shy at times. I can see how that comes off as standoffish.”

“It’s okay,” she gives you a nod with a smile. It’s the same combo she gives during her lectures. You only know this because you’re its number-one fan. Your jaw reflexively drops but you quickly pick it back up before she notices.

“You know,” she slides out of her plush leather chair and saunters out from behind her desk, “at first I did think you were just rude.”

She shrugs for a beat before stepping closer to you, “but then I think about how often you hold the door for me.”

And closer.

“And how you say ‘good morning’ or ‘good afternoon’ whenever you pass me on campus.”

And closer.

“Now, it all makes sense.”

Your cheeks begin to burn, you want to step back to give her space but she’s already a breath away from you by the time your brain can form the idea.

“Y/n.”

“Yes, professor?”

“Do you like me?”

Fuck.

She asks it so innocently you almost forget where you are. You're not two people casually exploring each other's fascination with one another. You're not on some kind of date, she’s your professor and you’re just a 1L. She watches your throat squirm as you swallow. Your mouth is now bone dry.

“I…it’s--just a little crush, yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, professor,” you respond so quickly and she hums in praise. Something pulls deep in your belly but you don’t have any time to figure out what it is before Professor Maximoff speaks again.

“Just a little?”

She leans impossibly closer to you. Your eyes don’t have a single corner to escape to, your breathing is shallow and sporadic.

“Yeah.”

She doesn’t correct you this time and you can’t help but feel a heavy pang of want. You watch a smirk stretch across her face and you feel like prey that’s about to fall victim to--

“That’ll be all, y/n—please close the door on your way out.”

She backs away before you do, turning on her heel to sit at her desk just the way you found her.

You stand there dumbly nodding for a moment. She subtly raises an eyebrow in your direction and that’s when your limbs begin to move towards the door. You quietly shut the door behind you before slumping against it, air filling your lungs once again. You shake off whatever you're feeling and head home, still trying to wrap your head around what just happened.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x you #marvel fanfic #works

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asumofwords · 1 year ago

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Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Hello my babies!!!! Holy fuck. Wow. I actually can't believe it. I may or not be crying a lil bit because here we are. Here is the final chapter of Smoke, Fire and Ash (besides the Epilogue that is coming tomorrow!). I really can't believe it. This has been such an insane journey to be on. I started writing this fic for my best friend, just emailing her updates, and then she convinced me to post online, so in January (thats how long this thing has been going lol) I started posting with you all!!!

I really cannot thank you guys enough for all the continuous love and support you have given me with this fic. All the memes and laughs and theories and messages, I have absolutely adored talking to you all and getting to share this with you! ARGHHH. I could say so much more, but I shant.... nay.... I wont. haha, so again, thank you all so much, and I hope that when the Epilogue is posted tomorrow, that we can all close this story together neatly! Can't wait to keep writing new stories for you all.

ENJOY! <3

FINAL CHAPTER 109: Through Smoke, Fire and Ash

There was no singular way to describe how you were feeling.

No singular way to explain the confusion of grief and both elation that swirled within you. You supposed, this was how Rhaenyra must have felt when she had her hasty coronation on Dragonstone.

How does one see the light when they are shrouded in so much darkness?

How is one supposed to smile through all the losses?

Because the shadows outweighed it all, much heavier than the Conquerors Crown you had worn, the weight of the world sitting atop your shoulders and spine, pushing down on your vertebrae with a force that could buckle your knees. One wrong shift and the fragility of your bones and muscle may cause it to crack, collapsing beneath you.

It had been days and yet, it still felt as though it was yesterday when you had driven your dagger into his neck. You could still feel the way it had felt when it pushed through his muscles and tendons, how his body had resisted it. How he had tensed beneath you jolting, how his eye had opened wide in pain and shock.

How he had looked at you.

How it had smelt, the iron of the blood on your hands, your body, in your hair.

All of it.

And at times, during those days that passed you, you would wake in a cold sweat, drenched in perspiration as you dreamt of doing it over and over. Dreamt of watching the light fade from his eyes. Dreamt of the smell, the blood.

And each time you would wake, tears falling down your cheeks and heart rattling against your ribs, your eyes would fall to your hands and a small cry of horror would leave your lips.

Each time, your hands were covered in his blood.

The first few nights that it happened, you would race to the basin beside the bed, desperate to wash the blood away, clawing at your skin with your nails as you scrubbed them raw, sobbing loudly in the chambers.

And each time, Ser Darke at your door would alert the Queen, and Rhaenyra would rush to your chambers in her nightgown, gripping your hands as they dripped with water, not blood, and would whisper to you that it was okay, that it was over, that you were clean.

Each time she would pull you away from the basin, hands raw and sometimes bleeding from your own nails, and would take you to bed, laying down first to clutch your head against her chest as she would hold you, and you would sob.

But after the eighth night of your new and horrifying routine, you woke and looked at your hands.

Blood again.

But this time you did not scream, this time you did not race to the basin to try and wash it away. This time you sat up against the back of the bed and stared at your hands until the sun had risen into the sky, and the maids came to get you ready for the day.

And it was much the same.

For many days after.

You would dine with your family, and there he would be, in the corner of your eye watching you.

Always watching you.

And each time that his shadow would catch your eye, you would know to not react when your eyes would catch glance of your hands, covered in his blood once more.

As though he was punishing you.

Your mother and father, if you suspected that she had told him, were the only ones to know about your crumbling stability. But as the days passed, and almost a moon had turned, it got better.

Easier.

You could now look at your hands without recoiling, and some nights you would not dream of him. Some nights you would not dream at all, and would sleep the entire night through.

And when you did wake up, the smell of blood beneath your nose, you would hold your stomach, the smallest of swells beginning to show, and soothe the skin with your palm, hushing the babe inside of you as you whispered to yourself that it was all okay.

But by the time the moon had turned, you had begun to make your peace with it. Begun to understand that this was your penance for such horrors. That this would be your atonement for what you had done.

A punishment that you would not deny.

This morning however, was different.

Today you would put on a brave face for the realm, not just for your family, who treated you with with such exceptional kindness and patience that it often brought you to tears.

Today the mask of impassivity, the mask of strength and triumph would be slipped over your face for all to see. As was your duty. As was always your duty.

Saria and Aella brushed their gentle hands into your hair as they braided it back against your skull in intricate twists and weaves that lifted it from the nape of your neck completely, whilst Joanna and Amala tended to tightening your gown at the back.

Your reunion with your two maids had been a tearful event, but smiles were shared after all eyes were red and raw from broken sobs and shared stories, minor tales of survival.

You held your hands at your front, observing yourself in the vanity of your old chambers, unwilling to enter Aemond’s again, not knowing if the stench of blood and memory of the past would be the last thread to be pulled, and your crumbling resolve would snap, and you would be lost to madness like Helaena had been, the weight of it all sinking you into the ground.

The necklace in your hands had warmed in your palms and fingertips, as you pressed the pad of your thumb into the chain, feeling each ridge of the Valyrian steel beneath it, using it to ground you, attempting to count each notch in the chain to help quell the rising tide within.

When Saria and Aella finished their braiding, they moved to place the headpiece atop your hair.

It had been old, far older than you or your parents.

The Valyrian steel had been a relic, a thick band that wrapped around your skull like a crown, that then had four similar bands that smoothed over the top of your scalp, meeting at the top of your head.

Pressed into the Valyrian steel were round and square cut rubies, and dragon glass all the way along its surface, glimmering in the light, with small coils of gold that were nestled between each jewell. Three emeralds were newly laid amongst the rest, one at each point at your temple, and the last at the back of your head.

It was not heavy like the Conquerors Crown, but it had a weight to it, pressing down onto your head as the girls adjusted it to fit. Adjusted it to look weightless. But there was the invisible weight of it too, and that squeezed at your ribs causing you to be breathless.

Saria moved to stand in front of you, looking at the chain that you held in your palm.

“Your Grace, might I?” She asked, a hand reaching out to offer to put the necklace on.

You nodded at her and gave her a small, yet stiff smile as she took it from your grasp, watching yourself in the mirror as she came to move behind you, hands fiddling with the clasp as she draped it across your neck.

The gown you wore was the last piece Aemond had made for you, and one you had not worn yet. But today you would. Today you would carry him with you as you took yourself down to the throne room.

It was a deep red, almost the colour of blood when it would begin to dry, with gold and black dragons and flames embroidered at the cuffs of your wrists, making their way up your forearm. The bodice of the dress was tight, and in its centre, a gold, beaded dragon, marked with black shivering beads that looked like scales.

A homage to the first dragon you had claimed, and lost.

From each shoulder, sat a large golden clasp, holding a set of three chains that hung across the neck. But they were not usual chains, instead, they were made to look like stems from a rose bush, pointed thorns all around its length, sharp and menacing.

Placed atop the gown by the help of Joanna and Amala sat the black and gold cloak your mother had worn many years ago for her coronation. It still smelt of her.

Saria finished clasping the necklace at the back of your neck, and stepped back, all the maids looking over you one last time to ensure that you were perfect.

They deduced that you were.

From behind you in the mirror, you could see the figure of Jacaerys as he entered your chambers, adorned in a vision of red and black, the colours of your House.

You spun to look at him, his eyes roaming over your body with the softest of smiles on his lips. His hair had been brushed back and away from his face, curly brown locks tucked behind his ears by small falling braids, gold clasps at their ends to hold them together.

“You were born for this.” He whispered, stepping towards you to take your hands in his, “Are you ready?” His thumbs brushed against your knuckles softly as he watched you.

You swallowed.

Were you ready?

Would you ever be?

No.

But you had to be.

“Yes.” You lied.

His large calloused hand moved to cup your face before pressing a kiss to your cheek lovingly, a habit that he had inherited from your mother, and something that he no doubt pressed against Baela’s furrowed brows and cheeks when needed.

Jacaerys' gaze dropped to your neck, and then back to your face as he blinked but said nothing, instead offering an arm to you to walk down together.

Resting against your neck, warmed by gentle hands that had held it, atop the cloak for all to see, was the necklace that Aemond had given Alys.

That your mother and father had then given to you.

And which you had plucked the emeralds from, not wishing to wear them around your neck, instead placing them within the piece that sat atop your head. A reminder.

At the centre of the Valyrian steel, the chain flush against you, was a steel dragons claw that hung from its centre, and in its grip a large spherical sapphire.

Taken from the ashes, as a reminder, as a lasting piece that you could have and hold.

The last piece of him.

Aemond’s eye.

"Shall we?”

You looped your arm in his and made your way down to the Iron Throne chambers together. Always together. Through thick and through thin, you shared the blood of Old Valyria, and the both of you had shared a womb, nothing could seperate you.

Your hand pressed against your necklace as you walked, feeling the weight of it with every step. Feeling his presence despite not being visible to your eye.

It helped to calm you strangely, helped to give you strength, to give you some sort of hope and feel as though he approved. You hoped that he would. You thought that he would.

He would.

In no time at all, you stood before the two large doors at the entrance to the Iron Throne. Jacaerys stilled, unlinking his arm from yours as he brushed his sweaty palms against his robes. Another habit the two of you shared.

You frowned at him, worry beginning to burrow itself in your chest. You stepped forward to cup his face in both hands, “Do you hate me? For what I am about to do?”

Jacaerys' lips pulled into a lopsided grin, hands coming to grasp yours, “I could never, not now, or in any other lifetime, come to hate you. You are my sister, and I have always held firmly in my beliefs that it should be you to sit the Iron Throne. How could I hate you for taking something that was never to be mine?”

You felt your eyes well with tears, relief pouring from you.

Jacaerys shook his head softly as he chuckled, towering over you, “Don’t cry. You’ll look a mess.”

A laugh bubbled up your throat and you tapped his cheek lightly.

“They’re waiting for me. Actually, waiting for you.” He breathed, stepping back, looking at you one last time as his fingers brushed the necklace, touching the orb that sat against your chest.

Jacaerys breathed deeply as he looked at it, gnawing at it his lip as he held it softly.

You watched his face as he thought for a moment, eyebrows twitching, but then breathed his thought aloud.

"He would be proud.”

You could tell it had taken a lot of Jacaerys to say that.

And yet he did.

You blanched, and the tears that you had tried to hold at bay trickled down your cheeks, hot trails dripping down onto the stones below.

Jacaerys frowned, head dipping down to your level, “Please don’t cry. Mother will have my head.”

You chuckled wiping the tears away with the back of your hand.

“Away with you then, the sight of you brings me to tears.” You half laughed and half sobbed.

Your brother swiped up a stray tear that had escaped your eyes before he gave a deep and mocking curtsey to you, his curly brown hair flopping against the sides of his face, “At once, Your Grace.” And with that, Jacaerys slinked into the chambers, announced loudly by Ser Erryk inside.

The doors shut behind him as you heard the crowd inside slowly quieten. You straightened your posture, heart beating against your chest with every breath.

But there would be no waiting, nor halting of what was to come. No moment of stilling for just a breath more to catch your bearings. Because if life had taught you anything, it was that the world does not slow for anyone, and it shall continue to move forward without you, even if you are trapped in the past.

And so forward, you went.

The doors were pulled open, and you felt each and every eye in the throne room turn to you. All Lords and Ladies from across the realm, Heads of their Houses and knights, watching as you made your way towards them. But your eyes were solely on your parents.

Queen Rhaenyra was seated upon the Iron Throne, dressed head to toe in black and red, gold crown of her father, the crown of King Jaehaerys before him, seated atop her skull and pride in her eyes.

Your father, King Consort Daemon Targaryen, stood at the bottom of the throne, hands in front of him as he grinned ear to ear, watching as you descended the stairs and walked towards them.

Atop his head, the Conquerors Crown.

Just as you had told him to wear.

‘This is yours now.’ You had told him, and he had argued, but you had insisted, ‘Return it to me when I sit the Throne.'

“Princess Y/n Velaryon, First of her Name, Daughter of Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen.” Ser Erryk’s voice boomed into the chambers, and you had to suck in a stiffening breath as you felt pangs of fear wind through you.

It was almost like the days you had been brought before Aegon, the strange feeling of remembrance racing through you icily. Remembering how it had felt to be presented to this throne twice before.

But it wasn’t the same.

There was no danger here, only love, and care, and trust. But this did not stop your mind from racing, or your heart from jumping in your chest as you stood before your mother, looking up at her.

Rhaenyra looked out at the sea of Lord and Ladies who stood in the Hall, all having travelled from their lands to come to the Red Keep for you.

All who had sworn themselves to her.

All who were willing to do it all again.

“Let all who stand here today, who have travelled across the Seven Kingdoms, who have sailed the seas and ridden to Kings Landing,” Her voice boomed across the room, steady and even, “Bear witness to the naming of Princess Y/n Velaryon as my successor for the Iron Throne.”

You smiled softly at your father before turning around to face the room, looking out at all who stood present, and had come to declare for your mother.

For you.

Some faces you recognised, others you did not. House sigils were pressed or stitched into robes and cloaks or armour, House colours adorned on shoulders and skirts. Men and woman of all kinds filled the chambers of the Iron Throne ready to swear their fealty.

Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys were the eyes you found first, standing at the front with your half sister Princess Rhaena beside them. All had their heads towards you, Rhaena grinning widely, whilst Rhaenys dipped hers in a subtle nod, the tiniest of smiles on her lips.

Lord Corlys however, did not smile, nor nod, but looked at you in appraisal. In pride. He had always treated you as his granddaughter, and despite you knowing the truth about Laenor, it did not take away that he had been a father to you, and Corlys, a grandfather.

At the sides of the chambers, your brothers stood and watched, and it took everything within you to not cry as one head of brown was missing.

You swallowed thickly as Rhaenyra continued.

“Your loyalty to the true heir of the Iron Throne has not been forgotten. Your sacrifices to regain the throne are not forgotten. All Lords and Ladies who stand before the throne today have shown their loyalty, bravery, and defiance in the face of turncloaks and usurpers. Have shown support of my cause, and my claim as the rightful heir and ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. So today,” She breathed behind you, “I, Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, ask that you to do so again. Pledge fealty to the throne and its rightful heir before the Old Gods and the New. Promise your faith, and know that if it is broken, there will be no mercy given to those who go against it.”

You breathed again, feeling your hands begin to sweat.

This was all you had ever wanted.

This was all that you had ever dreamed of.

But there was so much missing from it.

So many missing.

It was a dream that you had thought was lost. Gone with the marriage, gone with Lucerys. Gone to Jacaerys. Gone with the war.

But here you were, before the eyes of the Heads of the realms Houses, having your succession be named before the Gods, and their fealty sworn to you.

“Step forth now, and make the pledge.”

The first to move, was the silver locks of Lord Corlys Velaryon. He moved with no hesitancy, with a speed that had rivalled all others, moving to stand before you, slowly lowering himself to his knee as he bowed his head.

Ser Erryk announced him to all present, “Lord Corlys, of House Velaryon, Lord of the Tides and Master of Driftmark.”

Corlys lifted his head to look at you, his deep voice moving through the chambers, “I, Lord Corlys Velaryon, Lord of the Tides and Master of Driftmark, promise to be faithful to Queen Rhaenyra and her named heir, the Princess Y/n. I pledge fealty to them, and shall defend them against all enemies in good faith and without deceit. I swear this by the Old Gods and New.” The Lord stood, moving back to his wife and granddaughter, where he kept his eyes upon you, a small nod tipped towards you and the throne.

Warmth bloomed in your chest as you smiled at him softly. He was still, in your eyes, your grandfather.

The elder Lord Staunton was next, stepping forward to the middle of the aisle of people, bending his knee down slowly until it rested against the stones, bowing his head.

“Lord Simon Staunton, Lord of Rooks Nest, and Head of House Staunton.”

“I, Lord Simon Staunton, Lord of Rooks Nest and Head of House Staunton, promise to be faithful to Queen Rhaenyra and her named heir, the Princess Y/n. I pledge fealty to them, and shall defend them against all enemies in good faith and without deceit. I swear this by the Old Gods and New.”

Lord after Lord, Lady after Lady, Heads of Houses, young and old, stepped forth to kneel before you and pledge their allegiance and fealty to you, naming you as the successor to the Iron Throne.

All you could do was stand and watch, pride and vindication blooming in your chest warmly.

The last man stepped forward, but his robes were far different to those who stood amongst the rest. You watched in interest as he bent his knee.

He would be no older than Aemond had been. His hair was a dark brown, long and pulled away from his face by a clasp at the back of his head.

As he bowed to you, Ser Erryk Cargyll announced him to the throne room, voice loud behind you, icy grey eyes lifting to meet yours.

“Lord Cregan Stark, Wolf and King of the North, Lord of Winterfell and Head of House Stark.”

Lord Cregan Stark had a long face, not in the way that Aemond had, but Cregan’s thicker, and fuller. Cheeks wider and more muscular, and lips that were dutifully kept still. Furs lined the neck of his robes, and large silver wolf heads clasped it together in a chain at the front.

“I, Lord Cregan Stark, Wolf and King of the North, Lord of Winterfell and Head of House Stark,” His was voice was deep and smooth, his accent lilting upon every word he spoke, “Promise to be faithful to Queen Rhaenyra and her named heir, the Princess Y/n. I pledge fealty to them, and shall defend them against all enemies in good faith and without deceit. I swear this by the Old Gods and New.”

The entire time he spoke, he kept his eyes on you.

You blinked as he stood, towering taller than most men in the room, and watched as he moved back to his place, feeling a pull towards him in your chest.

There was no denying that he was handsome, a certain roguishness to him that only men in the North had. His shoulders were broad, and he looked to be a seasoned swordsman with large hands that he clasped at his front.

He did not smirk at you as Aemond would have when he caught you staring, and instead bowed his head out of curtesy and respect.

You swallowed and looked away, turning to finally face your mother, who sat upon the throne, crown atop her silver hair, and large blade at her side, hand rested on top of the hilt. She looked down at you with bright and violet eyes.

You bowed your head to her, momentarily looking down at the stones, where stains of red sat beneath your feet.

It was clear there had been an attempt to scrub it free, but the blood of Aegon Targaryen had sat at the foot of the throne for too long, and its viscousness had sunk deep into the porous stone.

When you lifted your eyes back to your mother Rhaenyra, she stood, looking out at all those present. All who had stayed loyal, all who had sworn their loyalty again. To the Houses that had sacrificed men in the battle for the throne, a mere moon before. To the Houses who had stayed true to their loyalty.

And then, to you.

To the one person who had made it happen. To the one person who ensured her seat. Months in waiting, months of torture and depravity. Months of sheer will to complete what she had started.

The realm knew you as many things.

The People’s Princess. The Bastard Princess. Survivor at Storms End. The Merciless. The Realms Despair. The Kinslayer. The Claimer of Two. King Maker. Queen Consort. Wife to the One-Eyed King. The Broken Queen.

King Slayer.

Queen Maker.

And a Queen for a Day.

But now you would be known as something that was rightfully, birthright and earned, yours.

“I, Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, and the Roynar, and The First men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, do hereby name, Y/n Velaryon, Princess of the Realm, the Heir to the Iron Throne.”

Heir to the Iron Throne.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

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sendpseuds · 4 months ago

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WIP Wednesday 🏈 Perfect Spiral

See!? I'm writing the next chapter! Just got distracted by Obi-Wan's tits for a minute.

“Is this a mistake?”

Obi-Wan has been trying to outrun that question since well before sunrise, doing anything and everything to keep his mind distracted.

Yoga. Podcasts. Emails he’s not supposed to be looking at on his day off. Vacuuming, dusting, scrubbing a house that was deep-cleaned by an entire army just yesterday.

The bed is wrapped in brand-new sheets, the kegerator is full, the fridge stocked with more food than Obi-Wan has any idea what to do with, every piece of artwork on the walls has been straightened countless times, College Gameday is playing on the big screen in the basement, and Anakin is going to be here any minute.

He’s pacing the hallway in a way he doesn’t even do before a championship game and Obi-Wan wonders what the betting odds on this would be.

Twenty bucks Skywalker laughs in his face.

Fifty says Kenobi chickens out.

“Am I about to make a fool of myself?”

Duck answers from another room with a string of quacks that Obi-Wan thinks it sounds a bit like, “Of course you are, father. What a terribly stupid question.”

He’d felt so confident when he’d asked the young man to join him for the weekend, overjoyed and severely underprepared for just how huge this would feel — anticipation feeling a lot more like anxiety the closer he gets to Anakin’s imminent arrival and suddenly it’s all too much.

The spotless house.

The pantry full of Anakin’s favorite snacks.

The Mos Eisley State sweatshirt he’s wearing.

The hour he’d spent chopping peppers and grating cheese for nachos.

The little box behind the basement bar.

The—

Oh, fuck.

Obi-Wan checks his watch as he’s running for the stairs and his bedroom, finding himself thankful for once that the young man is never on time but because Anakin Skywalker’s sole purpose in this galaxy is to torture Obi-Wan Kenobi, he isn’t even on the third step before the doorbell rings.

Times up, Kenobi.

Placing his feet back on the hardwood floor, Obi-Wan closes his eyes for a moment and simply tries to breathe.

Maybe this is a mistake.

Maybe he is about to make a fool of himself.

But at least he’ll know.

There’s a knock at the door.

A small knock.

Quiet.

Hesitant.

More than enough to pull Obi-Wan back into his body and the moment, turning on his heel and heading for the door. One lingering echo of doubt tells him to yank the misguided Mos Eisley State sweatshirt over his head and shove it behind some couch cushions in the living room, leaving him in a plain white t-shirt and soft worn jeans as he reaches for the handle, every nerve firing like touchdown fireworks, not even pausing for a breath before yanking the door open.

[perfect spiral]

#everyone excited for a gooey chapter?#or does that make you nervous?#muahahaha #perfect spiral #obikin #football au #wip wednesday

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chellestrash · 2 years ago

Text

Private Matters

Chapter III (18+)

Cam Boy! Frank Castle x Female Reader

Story summary: After stumbling upon a cam website one night you quickly discover your favorite streamer. Unable to get the thoughts and images of him out of your mind you decide to become a supporter and the two of you grow closer to each other over time. Things get complicated when your close friend, neighbor and crush decides to express his feelings for you.

Chapter summary: You decide to distract yourself with work as an attempt to distract your mind form the events of the previous day but Frank Castle won’t let you focus on anything that’s not him. He has a question, and needs an answer. What will you do?

Chapter Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sexual content, solo play, teasing, mention of sex toys

Word count: 4.1k

A/N: Okay chapter III is here! I want to apologize for how long it took me to get this part out. I guess writers block and also life just happens and sometimes its a bit more dificult to find time to sit down and focus on writing, but im glad I managed to find that time and u hope you'll all enjoy this. Thank you my sweet @chelseasdagger for proofreading this and deeling with my whining.

The next morning brings some form of comfort, at least until the memories of last night's events begin to slowly come back to you. You stretch under the covers with a quiet yawn and sigh softly before the sudden realization strikes you out of nowhere.

“Noooooooo.”

You cry out, hiding your face in your hands, as you pull your legs up to your chest with a grunt. It doesn't help, and you feel yourself cringing at your own thoughts, memories, and yesterday's choices before attempting to find something else to focus on.

“It's fine.”

You mumble to yourself before throwing the covers off.

“It's fine.”

You reassure yourself once more, abandoning the sweet, warm comforts of your bed, leaving yourself with not much of a choice but to attempt to take on the day. Grabbing your phone off the nightstand, you quickly check one more thing your brain kindly chooses to remind you of.

The email notification from the night before. The email from the site. From him. He didn't take the money, choosing to send it back since the session didn't necessarily…end the way it was supposed to. With an “I guess there's that” attitude, you push your fingers through your hair and rub your hand over your forehead.

“Okay.”

Throwing your phone on the bed, you decide to let this become a problem for later and figure out everything you had to do today before it was time to head over to work.

***

At the bar, once again, you prepare for your shift in one of the rooms in the back. While figuring out your hair situation, one of your close work friends enters the room. You immediately feel a bit better, knowing you'd get to work with someone you actually enjoy being around this time.

“How you holding up?”

She asks, addressing the situation that unfortunately took place at the bar the day prior.

“Oh, I'm okay, thanks.”

You smile softly before shrugging gently.

“Not the first, not the last time.”

You explain and she shakes her head.

“I know, but that's fucked.”

She states and you nod, agreeing with her.

“Yeah, fucking men.”

You roll your eyes and she chuckles.

“Yeah…well…about that?”

You feel her poking your side with her elbow and look at her slightly confused.

“What?”

“What…are you gonna tell me about the knight in shining armor or…?”

“Frank?”

“See, I didn't even have to say it, you immediately thought about him.”

You breathe out a little laugh through your nose and shake your head.

“Shut up.”

“Oh, so there IS something.”

She pokes your side again, excited, and you smack her hand away jokingly.

“There is no something there, nothing there!”

“Alright! Okay, okay, don’t tell me then, but he has a thing for you…and you have a thing for him!”

She makes sure you hear her before dodging the hoodie you throw at the door before slipping out of the room.

Shaking your head, you sigh loudly, smiling, partially at the interaction and partially at the thought of Frank having…a thing…for you.

You finish up quickly and follow your friend to the main room, getting behind the bar as you get ready for another work day, Frank still on your mind, a small smile on your face.

***

The shift is slow, the hours drag one after the other, and you can slowly begin to feel the events of the past few days catching up with you. The emotions' adrenaline of both the almost-bar-fight and the awkward situation that occurred at your place later that night slip away, and you feel the sudden, overwhelming exhaustion.

“This seat taken?”

You sigh, relieved, turning around with a big smile on your face, your eyes immediately searching for his.

“Don't think so, why?”

You tilt your head and squint softly, teasing him slightly as you attempt to mimic his mannerisms.

“Ahhh, just thought I'd hang out here, keep you company?”

He suggests, and you cross your arms in front of your chest.

“I look like I need company?”

You ask, your eyebrows pull together, your hip pushes out to the side slightly.

“I mean…"

Frank looks around the bar, eyes glancing over the many empty chairs, tables and booths.

“Shut up.”

You don't let him finish, and he chuckles loudly, dropping his head and shaking it slowly.

“It's a slow day.”

You shrug and explain as you finish polishing another glass.

“Maybe that's a good thing?”

Frank asks, and you agree, having him now right here insured you that the day would be far more entertaining than you first thought.

“Maybe it is.”

You wipe your hands on the bar uniform, resting your arms on your hips before glancing back up at the man sitting in front of you. His pretty face, dark hair and eyes, the dark navy blue, almost black shirt with the sleeves rolled up half the way. His arms resting on the counter, his frame taking up just so much space.

“Right, what can I get you, sweetheart.”

You tease in a sweet voice and smirk at the way he glares at you after hearing the pet name.

“The usual?”

***

Frank keeps you company as the evening slowly passes by, staying at the bar for most of your shift. He asks a couple of times, needing to make sure he’s not really bothering you, but you assure him that having someone to entertain you instead of staring at a wall for hours is, believe it or not, a good thing. With the slow traffic at the bar and not a lot happening in general throughout weekdays, you spend the majority of your shift talking to Frank and at the same time attempting to avoid your friend’s “I told you” glare.

“So, been sleeping okay?”

He asks, and you shift your attention back to him.

“Hmm? Oh!”

You watch him take another sip from the beer bottle and your eyes linger at his Adam’s apple for a bit too long.

“You telling me I look tired, Castle?”

You push your hip out to the side a bit, your hands crossed in front of your chest, fighting off the quiet chuckle as you watch his confused expression.

“Really?”

“What?”

“You’re gonna pull that card, huh?”

He glances up at you, the beer bottle still in his hand, his eyes jumping around your face.

“Maybe…”

“Yeah?”

He tilts his head to the side, squinting softly.

“Or maybe not…”

He scoffs before taking another sip, and you roll your eyes, shaking your head softly before walking off to take care of another customer.

“So…you doing okay? After…yesterday?”

Frank asks, sounding genuinely concerned, after you walk back to him.

“I am pretty tired, actually.”

You explain after a moment and watch the expression on his face change. His features soften, but he looks concerned at the same time, worried?

“Something happened?”

He attempts to find the answer out, but you shake your head with a little smile, unable to even begin to think about trying to explain to him what you put yourself through the night before.

“Nothing serious, just, been dealing with my own irresponsibility lately.”

That feels like an appropriate way to summarize your situation.

“Shit, I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

You feel your insides double over and your heart skip a few beats, the whiplash of the last time you heard that word hitting you harder than you could've expected.

“No it’s fine, it’s okay I’ll… I’ll handle it, don’t worry…just”

You wave your hand around, signaling you’d prefer to move on with the topic now, quickly getting busy with another task you suddenly had to get done. Frank watches you for a moment, sipping on the beer as he visibly battles with something on his mind.

“So…”

You start.

“What’s happening up there?”

“Hmm?”

He asks, raising his eyebrows as you suddenly pull him out of his thoughts, nodding in his direction. The question acts as a distraction, but at the same time you're genuinely intrigued about what's on his mind.

“Shit, okay…”

He sighs loudly and sits up straight, setting the empty bottle off to the side.

“Okay, listen…”

You smile and lean on the counter in front of him.

“I-I-I..."

He shrugs.

"I don't want you thinking I'm trying to...add to everything you have going on."

“Oh, you’re fine.”

You smirk, trying to get him to relax a bit more, once you notice he actually does seem softly tense.

“Right…was thinking maybe…”

Frank starts, shrugging softly and looking off to the side before turning his face back to look at you. You watch as he struggles to get his words out with a gentle smile, amazed by the fact of how nervous he looks. The sight in front of you contrasts so vividly with the Frank Castle people around both you and him knew, you chuckle softly and smile a bit bigger.

“You can just tell me.”

“Yeah, I don't know, just...”

He shrugs again, squinting and titling his head to the side some before finally finishing the question.

“Maybe you wanted to grab a beer together sometime?”

His eyes focus on your face, trying to predict your reaction, and you feel your stomach tensing up with the sudden wave of excitement. All the little hints you thought you've been noticing, the way he'd act around you, the way he made you feel, or even just talk to you. How he'd take time out of his day to spend it with you, ask about your things, genuinely worry and maybe care about you as well? All those things bounce around your mind right now as you attempt to get it through your head that Frank Castle might actually feel something for you, and you haven't been just imagining things.

“Like…here?”

“Wherever you want.”

“So, like a date?”

He freezes, swallowing hard like the word is something he was trying to somehow avoid in case it would scare you off.

“Like a date.”

He confirms quickly. You quickly glance over at your friend, and she looks away from the two of you, not very effectively pretending like she wasn't just staring at you both, attempting to decipher the situation, before turning back to look at Frank again.

“Yeah, yeah, okay, I'd like that.”

"Yeah?"

He asks quietly, the subtle raise of the corner of his lips indicating a smile.

"Yeah!"

You agree enthusiastically, not even attempting to hold back the big, bright smile and Frank immediately sits up a bit, taking a big breath in before nodding back with that little pout he does.

“Alright…good."

He clears his throat, taking another sip from the bottle.

"So we'll just..."

"Oh, we can just work out the details later?"

You suggest and he agrees.

"That works."

"Good!"

"Good."

"Alright I should...."

Frank starts after checking the time, probably for the first time since he got here earlier that day.

He points his thumb behind himself, over his shoulder, without finishing the sentence.

“Oh, yeah!"

“Just…have some shit to deal with.”

“Yeah sure!”

You reassure him with a smile, grabbing the empty beer bottle before handing him back his money.

"It's on the house."

You explain in response to his confused expression.

"Shit, really? Damn... I mean, if I knew that before...would've asked you out already."

He can't help but smile, allowing himself to relax at the sound of your laugh.

"Fuck you, Castle."

"I mean..."

"Right, get out!"

***

You spend most of the rest of the day, after the shift, with your work friend. Filling her in on the talk with Frank, not really getting much more than “I told you” as a response. You finish up the shift, then grab a couple drinks together. You stay in contact with Frank throughout the evening, both of you finally deciding that today probably won't necessary work for the date and settling on catching each other some time tomorrow. There's a slight bit of relief when you realize you don't have to stress over the meeting, at least for a couple more hours. Because no matter how well you know Frank and how close you two are as friends, there's still that uneasy feeling you'll somehow manage to mess this up. You can't help it, Franks older than you and quite a bit actually, not too much to make it weird but, it's not something that goes unnoticeable. You've been dating guys here and there on and off for some time, but it was never really someone you cared about even slightly as much as you cared about Frank. You were friends before there were any sorts of feelings, so the possibility of risking a good friendship, like this one, was not one you could look past without worrying about it.

"Shit."

You mumble quietly, slowly pushing yourself up to sit up on your couch. A loud sigh follows, expressing your frustrations, before you reach for your phone.

“It'll be fine.”

A text from your friend followed up by

“We’ll think of something if you'll fuck it up.”

You breathe out a little laugh and respond with an “Oh, thanks,” before expressing your worries in another message. Instructed not to do anything else today but attempt to relax, you rest your head against the back of your couch, closing your eyes for a moment just to cut yourself off from your surroundings, at least for a moment.

With your eyes closed, and your body attempting to relax, your brain quickly follows, your mind slowly slipping back into the more pleasant parts of the last couple of days. With your life occupied mostly by work lately, your brain escapes to the parts of those days that helped ease your tired body.

You feel your insides tensing up some as the images of certain live streams play back in your head. The now familiar shot of the camera, the broad shoulders, big arms and thighs. And those, those god-damn sounds that your brain couldn't possibly avoid even if you wanted it to. You don't. The praises you heard through the computer speaker work well with the confidence boost that is your neighbor, and friend you've been crushing on for a while, asking you out.

***

You feel your computer mocking you as it suggests the site just moments after you open the internet browser.

“Okay.”

You mumble with an eye roll before clicking on the suggested search.

“Smartass.”

Today's live stream already happened a bit earlier, and you realize you missed that opportunity. After checking the available schedule, you realize there's an opening between a few private sessions planned for later in the night. You're not sure if it's because of the slight boost of confidence, the images your brain keeps relaying in your head, the anxiety of the planned date or your need to get rid of the awkwardness of what happened in your session yesterday, but after checking your bank account and the money return one more time, you choose to book another session.

Sitting back on your couch again, you let out a loud sigh, unable to tell if you feel relieved or even more anxious at that point.

Going through a couple clips from today's stream, you feel yourself relaxing slightly as the time of your scheduled meeting approaches slowly. The coaching, pet names and praises, even if not directed at you in the clips, work their magic in a very convincing way and you once again feel yourself falling under “The Punisher’s” spell.

It's too late to scold yourself at this point. You can tell how your body reacts to him, you feel silly for it still, but the need for reassurance before a date with a guy you're trying to impress towers over the feeling of your stomach falling into a bottomless pit.

***

“Hey, sweetheart.”

You suddenly feel the need to scream into a pillow until your neighbors file a noise complaint.

“Saw the username, didn't know what to think. Thought I'd scared you off last time.”

He remembers.

You immediately feel your cheeks, your whole face getting hotter as he continues to speak.

“You got the money back right, sweetheart? Thought it was only fair since we…didn’t really get to make you feel good.”

He continues, and you feel your legs pushing together slightly at the deep, raspy sound of his voice.

“You wanted to try again? Hmm?”

Your eyes jump to his pretty hands once he runs them up and down his thighs.

“You there, Sweetheart?”

“I'm here.”

You text in the chat again, and hear that quiet chuckle, which makes you want to see his face even more now than ever.

“There she is. Still just chat?”

He asks, his thumb slowly brushing over the bulge in his sweatpants.”

“We’ll see.”

You send the message and watch his fingers pause for a moment as he reads it out.

“Attagirl, look at you.”

The praise, once again, makes you feel like your body is slowly beginning to melt through the cushions of the couch.

“Would love to hear you.”

He mentions, sliding down a bit lower on the chair before pushing his legs open slightly.

“Maybe you will.”

You answer in the chat, following his lead as you sit slightly lower on the couch and spread your legs open.

“My lucky day, huh?”

You don't answer this time, instead focusing on the movements of his hands, how he pushes them up and down his thighs again before wrapping his fingers over the bulge in his pants, remembering what you wanted him to do last time.

“Just this again, sweetheart? That enough for you?”

You confirm in the chat, knowing it was probably the safest option and if he were to do something a bit more intense, you would probaby-

His grunt pulls you back, as if he knows you started to slip, but you quickly focus back on the image on your laptop screen.

“Shhhit.”

You whisper, quickly pulling your pants down and tossing them off to the side, deciding to touch yourself over the fabric of your underwear.

“Can you talk to me?”

You quickly type out in the chat, struggling for a moment to write the message while keeping your other hand between your legs.

“Talk to you, baby? Hmm? You just want to hear me?”

His words ring out in your ears, his palm cupping his bulge over the fabric.

“What if I want to hear you too, baby? Hmm? How is that fair?”

Humming quietly at his question, you consider it, glancing over at the little light on your computer, the one indicating whether your microphone is on or off. You know it's just teasing, he's doing his job, probably doesn't even mean it, but it doesn't change the fact of how the words make you feel.

“Okay…tell you what.”

He starts again after a moment.

“Can you let me know you can hear me, sweetheart? Hmm? Can you do that?”

You pull yourself up, hitting the keys as fast as possible before sending the message.

“Good girl, okay.”

He praises, wrapping his hand tighter around himself.

“How bout, we have some fun, huh?”

You watch him reach out for something out of view.

“You got anything that can help you feel good, baby?”

The question makes you immediately glance over in the direction of your nightstand, your mind going to the vibrator hidden in one of the drawers.

“Maybe.”

Is your answer in the chat, and he chuckles.

“You want to get it? Mind if I use this? Hmm?”

He asks, holding the object up to the camera, making sure you're able to see it. You whine out quietly, your eyes on the silicon cock sleeve in front of you on the screen of your laptop.

“Jesus…”

You mumble, typing out the response, letting him know you definitely didn't mind it whatsoever.

“Okay, okay good. Let's get you feeling good then, hmm?”

He mumbles after a moment, pulling the sweatpants down and exposing his black boxers. They're pulled down low, tight around his big thighs, the fabric straining between his legs. You bite down on your lip, feeling the blood rushing between your legs, the warmth spreading all over your body as you watch him touch himself over the fabric, pushing his hips up against his hand.

He hums quietly and so do you, brushing your fingers against yourself over your panties.

It takes you a moment, but you quickly stand up and run over to your nightstand, grabbing the vibrator before returning to the laptop.

You watch him cup himself over the fabric for another moment, fingers tight around his cock now. He grunts, pulling the boxers down some more before pausing for a second.

“You with me? Hmm.”

You confirm quickly, dying to see those boxers come off. Your heart pounding, your legs pressing together, your fingers digging into your thigh as you wait to see him.

“Yeah? You like what you're seeing?”

You roll your eyes at the question, letting yourself relax some more. Sitting back on the couch a bit more comfortable, you hold the vibrator up between your legs, your eyes glued to the screen as you watch the fabric slide lower and lower before finally, his cock springs out of the black boxers, and you hit the switch on your vibrator at the same time.

The grunt following him sliding the sleeve onto his cock makes you feel like your stomach ties into a knot, and you take a deep, shaky breath in. Your hand hovering over the microphone button as you rethink this again. The slow, raspy grunts as he moves the sleeve up and down his length finally cancel out the anxiety, and you hit the button.

He doesn't notice it at first. You press the vibration against yourself and feel your body tensing up at the sensation for another moment, before you decide to pull the fabric off to the side.

“Mmmmmm, fuck.”

You can't help the words slipping past your lips, and you watch him freeze on the screen for a second, just like he did the last time. The quiet, rumbly sound now comes out of the speakers of his own computer as he decides if he should let you know or not.

“Hey…sweetheart? Don't…don't get upset.”

He starts softly, and you pull the toy away, eyes on the screen, waiting for him to continue.

“Think your mic is on."

You don't reply.

"You...you want it off?”

There's a pause, neither of you talk for a moment.

“I want it on.”

You speak up, your voice a bit higher than it'd normally be.

“Atta-fucking-girl! Look at you, getting brave, are we? Let's go, sweetheart, let's make you feel good."

***

“So what made you buy the session again? Felt bad for leaving me hanging the last time?”

You chuckle quietly, watching his chest move with big, deep breaths, your own chest rising and falling faster than usual as you both attempt to calm down after what just took place.

“I just…have a date soon. I guess I'm…kinda anxious, I just wanted to…feel good, not think about it."

You watch how his body relaxes when you start talking, his fingers brushing over his thighs slowly, the muscles in his arms now softer. Not as refine as when he stroked his cock for you just minutes before.

“Alright, that someone you like?”

He asks, and you feel your cheeks getting warmer again. Talking about this with a person you barely know feels dumb, but at the same time, he seems so comforting, so understanding.

“Yeah, I do, I want it to go well, I just think I might fuck it up.”

“Hey, you know what I think?”

You don't answer and he continues.

“Think you're gonna go on that date, have fun, and the guy will be fucking lucky to have you there, yeah?”

You can't fight back the small smile appearing on your face.

“You think?”

“Damn right, I do, sweetheart!”

You laugh again and so does he.

“I mean listen, if he'll get to hear half of the things you let me hear today…shit.”

“Okay, but you HAVE to say that.”

You interrupt.

“Oh, you don't know that!”

He cuts you off, laughing some again.

“Maybe I do, maybe I don't.”

You push your legs together, letting yourself relax now, the conversation helps a lot more than you thought it would in the first place.

“It'll be good, you got it…just be careful, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

“Thanks for this-”

You start, but he cuts you off quickly.

“No, no, no sweetheart, thank you.”

You breathe out a little laugh, shaking your head slowly.

“I should go.”

You mention after checking the time, the session about to end.

“Yeah…well listen…”

You pause, eyes glued to the screen.

“I’ll miss seeing you in the chat if the date goes well.”

Tag list: @chelseasdagger @lorilane33 @dreadfulxives18 @5thelement @desert-fern @joybabyjune @ohgodthebogisback @barnesbabee

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #the punisher #the punisher x reader #frank castle au #marvel #jon bernthal #private matters

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literary-motif · 9 months ago

Note

could you write a scenario where Listener gets a panic attack after being overwhelmed by work and Isaac helps them through it? hurt/comfort tropes are my favorite 💕

Same, hurt/comfort for the win! I hope this is to your liking. Have a lovely day <3

Never Falter

Isaac Rhoades x Reader

Warnings: panic attack, mild self-esteem issues

The work you normally so loved left you hollow inside. You had been staring at the pages in front of you — bills, pictures, legal documents, printed-out emails — for a good half an hour without understanding a single word of what was written on them. The letters seemed to blur together, the words not making sense in your head.

It was a shame, really, because this was only the second case you had looked at today, and there was a whole stack of manilla folders resting at the edge of your desk, taunting you with their towering presence.

You felt the overwhelming urge to send them all flying to the ground, spilling their contents over the green carpet in Isaac’s office, but that would only increase your workload and you were not keen on undoing yesterday’s work and falling even further behind.

It would all be so much easier if you could close some of the cases, but there was not enough evidence to make sense of all the loose information you tried desperately to piece together. They all needed further observation and further research you did not have the time to give them because of the sheer amount of them. It did not help that you were supposed to look for new evidence as well, making it impossible to piece together the scraps you already had and puzzle the new pieces into the bigger picture of the case because there were just too many of them.

There was too much to do, and you had spent the entirety of the previous night sitting at the desk, leafing through papers to revise the old evidence in the few hours where — at least in the US — there was nothing to observe because your targets were fast asleep.

At around four in the morning, your exhaustion had crept up on you, making you nod off, awoken only by Isaac’s gentle touch on your shoulder a few hours later, his brows furrowed as he asked you if you had fallen asleep on your work. You had brushed off his question, hurrying to the kitchen to follow your primary duties of housekeeping and making him his signature cup of coffee.

If he was disappointed that you had not had the time nor the energy to bake something, he did not let it show, instead suggesting almost offhandedly that you both could take the day off and try out his mother’s old recipe for crema catalana, a desert he had loved in his youth but never got around to make for himself.

Practically seeing the amount of work on your desk double, the stack of documents increasing, the folders thickening by the amount of new evidence and potentially new connections you would have to catch up on if you slacked off for a day, you politely declined his offer and returned hurriedly to your desk, adamant to get more done today, to catch up with the development of at least a few cases and finally cross something off of your to-do list.

It had gotten increasingly long over the past few months, and you did not know how much longer you could keep up with the world around you spinning without cause, all the people doing what they did while you were supposed to keep track of it all.

Every dawn brings a new day, yes, but every new day brings more work, and you were so tired of it. You needed to process the information, you needed to look at the evidence, and research it thoroughly so you could solve the cases and reduce your workload — close some cases. But it was impossible.

The world kept spinning, the evidence kept piling up and you were slowly drowning in the flood of information, no longer understanding any of it, unable to comprehend what the case was about anymore.

“Pickle?” Isaac asked, popping his head into his office in search of you. He had been going from meeting to meeting for the past week, absent from home for a long time to converse with employers and partners. He had told you about Asirel and his acquaintance, supposed to keep him safe, but you had only listened halfheartedly to his retelling of their meeting and the ensuing conversation they had had about his ‘pet’ as your eyes remained fixed on the documents before you, shifting through them in the hopes of understanding what you were even supposed to be looking for.

You were so tired that reality seemed to melt away. “What is it, Isaac?” you asked, not raising your head despite being mildly surprised that his meeting with the ‘troublesome’ client had finished so soon.

“Well, I don’t want to interrupt,” Isaac said sheepishly, causing you to glance up at him briefly at the unfamiliar tone. He was loosening his tie, suit jacket already discarded, and hair a mess. Isaac looked about as exhausted as you felt, and the worn-out smile on his face did nothing to hide the faintly purple bags under his eyes. “I see you’re still busy, just— where’s dinner? I’m off to sleep after. I swear that man took all that was left of my energy, talking in circles for hours!”

Your heart dropped, and you raised your eyes to look at the big pendulum clock next to Isaac. It was late, already well past eleven at night, and you had grossly miscalculated the time, losing yourself in your reflections and the amount of work on your desk, on which you had yet again failed to make a dent.

More importantly though — and the thought crashed through you as your wide eyes met the questioning tilt of Isaac’s head — you had entirely forgotten about making dinner.

“I—” you began, throat suddenly dry and eyes watering at failing to do your work.

You had failed in your most important purpose. Isaac was sure to be disappointed, realizing that you were entirely useless and pathetic and nothing but a burden, and finally kicking you out, asking you to leave in the coldly professional tone he usually reserved for particularly bothersome clients. You were nothing but a burden to him. He hated you.

“Oh god,” you choked, tears streaming down your face as your chest started to burn, feeling like a fire was scorching you from the inside out, something inside of you trying to claw its way out. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t— I—”

There was not enough air in the room, you suddenly realized. There was no air at all as the sensation of being pulled underwater overtook you, contrasting strangely with the fire burning inside your chest. Nothing felt real. Nothing made sense anymore, and you were struck with the thought that this twisting, bending of reality and the feeling of levitating through the air while simultaneously being pulled down to crash against the hard floor had to be what dying felt like.

At least that way you did not have to face Isaac’s inevitable scorn, nor the heartbreak that would come with being forced to leave him as he told you he had no need for your assistance anymore. You had never been a good assistant anyway, nor a good housekeeper. Perhaps this was for the best.

“Hey, look at me,” the words reached you from far away, sounding like a faint whisper on a field with howling wind, “Open your eyes. Look at me. It’s alright, everything’s alright. Breathe.”

The voice was growing louder slowly, but the feeling of being pulled under, swallowed by something — a big mass of nothing hiding deep inside your chest, the void reclaiming what belonged to it — made it hard to concentrate on the words.

“Pickle! Hey, breathe. I’m— I’m going to touch you now, alright? Don’t be alarmed, just—” The voice was gentle and calming despite the uncertainty and faint underlying alarm you could hear in the spoken words. It was strangely comforting, and you felt yourself slowly surfacing from the deep well you had unknowingly sunk into.

The world around you started to feel less wrong, and you slowly became aware that you were shaking like a leaf, gasping for breath on the floor while someone — Isaac! — was soothingly stroking your hand, which he held pressed against his chest with a firm but gentle grip.

“That’s it,” he exhaled in relief as you opened your eyes, vision still blurry with tears, “Breathe with me. It’s alright, you’re safe. Just copy me. Breathe, Pickle. Yes, just like that.”

You tried your best to follow the steady rise and fall of his chest but lost the slow rhythm again and again. The pain in your chest made you whimper, choking on a sob as you were unable to take in a deep lungful of air that you so desperately needed.

Isaac shifted closer, tentatively releasing his grip on your hand to gather you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest, making sure you could feel the rhythm of his breathing.

“Just like that,” he whispered against the top of your head, rubbing small circles into your back as your breathing gradually slowed. “You’re doing so well. Keep breathing. That’s it. I love you. Keep breathing. You’re alright. I’m right here.”

You lowered your hand, not having the energy to keep it up anymore as you slumped against Isaac’s chest, going boneless with exhaustion. The panic had subsided, leaving you utterly drained.

“Isaac?” you murmured against his shoulder, eyelids dropping as your heartbeat slowed and you caught the unmistakable scent of Isaac’s cologne.

His arms tightened around you, pulling you closer against him as he felt you relax completely, drifting off to sleep in an embrace you knew would keep you safe. “Sleep, Pickle,” he said, taking a deep breath himself to slow his heart hammering against his ribcage, “We will talk about this tomorrow.”

The next morning, you woke up in a soft bed, which you had neglected for an unacceptable amount of time, Isaac’s arms securely wrapped around you and keeping you close to him, as if he was worried you would slip through his fingers again.

#sakuverse #zsakuva #isaac rhoades x reader #isaac rhoades

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monsterswithimagines · 3 months ago

Text

Undisclosed Desires - Part 19

Joe Goldberg x female!Reader

Summary: Twenty minutes before he would have met Guinevere Beck, Joe meets you instead. You intruige him, but it will soon become clear that there is something off about you.

Words: 888

Masterlist

Fun fact: I actually wrote a part of this (the obvious email) in Dutch and then translated it with Google Translate so it would be realistic lmao.

I have the key to your place. You have the key to mine. We are that kind of couple.

When you're at work, I sometimes go to your apartment and read your email. I don't like that you have a male friend you haven't told me anything about, even if most of what you talk to him about is me.

Still, (Y/n), can you blame me for being worried? You are not supposed to keep secrets from me. And you don't. Except for when it comes to [email protected].

I have to be fast today. Yesterday, you ran into Paco's mom, Claudia. She complained to you that she has to work, so she can't take Paco trick or treating today, and Ron isn't interested. You're too kind, so you said we'd do it. And because not just Claudia, but even Ron actually likes you, Claudia thanked you profusely and said that “that would be great, actually.”

You should know, (Y/n), that I hate Halloween. But, as you pointed out, this isn't about me, or you - “don't you think I would have rather gone to the costume party my boss is throwing, Joe?” No. I don't think you would have. But that’s beside the point.

This is about Paco. And he will be at my apartment in less than two hours.

So I have to hurry.

But your email is just so enticing. I don't find any new exchanges with Grey (I did check just last week), but that doesn't mean there's nothing for me to see. You have a new email from your mother, and it's far easier to copy and paste one long message into Google Translate than it is to figure out texts.

Your mother writes:

Dear (Y/n),

I've had to think long and hard about how to tell you this, but I won't be there this Christmas. Your grandma and grandpa don't want Steef there, so I'm going with him to his family in Utrecht. You are of course very welcome to come too. Steef would like to meet you. I talk about you all the time, my sweet, smart daughter with her great job in America.

Unfortunately, I know you probably don't feel like it. Your grandfather has his claws in you. He thinks everything I do is wrong, and you believe him. That saddens me enormously. All your life you have seen your grandparents as the people who love you. Even as a little girl you didn't see how much I loved you and how much I did for you. I had to look for love somewhere else.

I found that love in Steef, (Y/n). We love each other so much. But I can't start a life with him if you haven't met him. Then help us! I love you so much, honey. Give me that love back and accept that I want to be happy too!

I don't understand why you let your grandparents determine your entire life. Joe sounds like a perfect man. Do you really leave him alone at Christmas and New Year because you are afraid that your grandfather has an opinion about your relationship?

You deserve so much better, Poppedijn. Both of us.

To the stars and back again,

Mom.

Oh. You're going to hate this.

Usually, you and your mom email each other when you want to tell each other things you consider too long to text. Like when you tell her about your day at work, or she talks about the latest drama going on in your hometown. Only once before have I seen you receive an email like this from your mother. When you read it, you completely shut down on me for a week. You wouldn't talk about it. You wouldn't talk to anyone. You called in sick to work and shut yourself inside your apartment.

I can't let that happen this time.

I write a response. I have to translate it and send it back in Dutch, and I know it won't be perfect, but I'm hoping your mother will write that off as part of your inability to string proper sentences together when you're not writing professionally.

mom,

i understand why you have to go to utrecht. you're right, i'd rather not come. but you need to find your bliss.

i need to find my bliss, too, so i think it's better if we don't speak to each other for a while. it's not personal. i'm very tired all the time and i want to focus on joe and i don't want to think about my mom, who'd rather spend christmas with her boyfriend's family than suck it up and see her only daughter.

all my love,

(y/n)

I hit send. Then, I panic and delete the email from your sent folder. Then, I panic even more and delete your mother's email altogether. I even remove it from your deleted files.

What have I done?

Your mom is going to react to this. She is going to tell you about the email she received. Then you will wonder who sent it, and who will all the signs point to? Your boyfriend, who has access to your apartment and your laptop when you're not paying attention.

I quickly replace the laptop and leave.

What am I going to do?

#joe goldberg #penn badgley #you netflix #joe goldberg imagine #joe goldberg x reader #imagine #joe goldberg x female!reader #joe goldberg x y/n #joe goldberg x you #x reader

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